#she won't be vulnerable anymore! how is anyone supposed to know that she's there!! until she's gone!

[bericas]

let's have a toast to the good life; suicide before you see this tear roll down my eyes.

[dent-de-leon]

Do you think Molly ever moped whenever Yasha went off to chase the storms? Like when Yasha isn't around for him to hang out with, he just sits and huffs a little like a bored kitty?

aHHH I love the thought of this, Molly's tail lashing as he wanders around and tries not to think about how much he misses Love ;; Molly curling up by himself and staring off into storms, just waiting for her to come home. I feel like as time goes by he either gets better at hiding it, or he realizes that Yasha cares about him so much she'll always come back, and in the meantime he's happy to wait for her for as long as she needs.

But I do think Molly gets more anxious whenever Yasha isn't there and something from his past comes back. Nightmares about the Eyes, fleeting memories from another life. That time when Cree ran up and called him Lucien, how she wrapped her arms around him and Molly immediately started spiraling, having a panic attack. How he laughs nervously and keeps looking for an escape, desperate to just make it all go away--and the immediate relief when Yasha shows up, how Molly just clings to her and lingers at her side--"I'm so glad to see you."

So whenever Molly's having another moment like that, where he just needs to run and hide and all the demons from Lucien's past come back...I think those are the times when he gets very anxious and withdrawn if Yasha isn't there. If he doesn't have his anchor to hold onto whenever he's feeling that ache of Emptiness again.

I also wonder about the very first time Yasha leaves, because we know Molly didn't think she'd actually come back. It takes him completely by surprise when Yasha comes running to his rescue--even though Molly did the exact same thing for her at the Platinum Dragon temple. He just...didn't believe anyone would ever do the same for him. It's so sad, that Mollymauk didn't think his life was worth that...even though all of choir practice is just him drawing his own blood to protect others--

But yeah. I do wonder if, that first time she left, Molly tried not to let the disappointment show. And maybe he didn't really believe she'd actually stay, but he had hoped--

Those first few days when Yasha is away…when she leaves the circus grounds, she’s still looking at all the joy and color in the world, still holding onto a little four-leaf-clover. And then there’s Molly back at the carnival. Was he trying to keep himself busy and not think about how lonely he still feels? Did he watch her walk away until she disappeared beyond the horizon?

Molly openly admitting that he's lonely to Yasha when she saves him, Molly who kept throwing his life on the line after losing Lestera, who still ached for her and ran off to fight these battles alone every night. The absolute recklessness of it all, how he keeps throwing himself into danger for others--like he himself has nothing left to lose.

The way Yasha was so concerned for Molly's safety when he himself never even questioned it--"You stuck your neck out like that, completely alone...to help people you don't even know?" Yasha promising Molly he won't have to be alone anymore--she's going to protect him, and she's not giving him any choice about it, "We fix it. You're not doing this alone anymore. Got it?"

"Got it. Suppose I could use the company. I am recently out of a relationship the hard way..." Molly says that with a wink and a cheeky grin, tries to just brush it off. But it's this moment where he's really letting himself be vulnerable and admits more than he ever did to the rest of the Nein. He tells Yasha he had a partner once, but she's gone now. He tells her she lost them recently, that he's still grieving--that he's lonely. "Suppose I could use the company." It's his way of saying he's so grateful that Yasha will stay, that Molly doesn't want to be alone. Can't be.

Just...the way Yasha and Molly were both there for each other when they were both mourning someone they lost. The way Molly can tell just by looking at Yasha that she feels lonely and Empty too. The way it hurts a bit whenever Yasha goes away, but also how Mollymauk trusts wholeheartedly that she'll come back.

Molly always waiting for Yasha to return, always so patient and understanding. And then it's Yasha left behind and feeling so alone; and then, after months and months of grieving and waiting and daring to hope--"You open your eyes for the first time...in the longest time..." Molly's reborn soul finally coming home to Yasha like she always came back to him--

[transmascrage]

TLOU Episode 3 and Masculinity

(Crossposted on Reddit, that's why I'm explaining that I'm trans)

I hadn't cried this hard in so long. This episode broke me in the best way.

It's not just the beautiful life Bill and Frank have together, it's how deeply I felt their first meeting. Bill being so hunched over and stiff until he realized Frank was safe to be queer and vulnerable around, and them crying because they found another person like themselves in the apocalypse.

Queer people still experience these emotions without all the zombies around, and it was so great to see happy queer people in a genre-setting where many fans assume a patriarchal and heteronormative system will be the norm, and that all civil and social rights "won't matter anymore". Lord knows how many times I've heard people say "If we were in the apocalypse, no one would respect your pronouns" like that's supposed to hurt my feelings? Bring back the attack helicopter jokes at this point.

I feel like unless you're queer yourself, you won't understand why Frank asking "Who's the girl?" and Bill replying "There is no girl" and bursting into tears says so much with few words.

Frank is testing the waters, he can tell Bill has some queerness to him (gaydar is real, it's just being able to pick up on subtle cues, and the only reason most cishet people are bad at it is becayse you need to engage with queer spaces and media to see them), but he's testing how aware Bill is of it and how he'll react to a gay man near him when he's repressed it for so long.

And Bill breaks down because he feels safe enough to do so around him, and he can tell Frank will understand why there is no girl.

And then later, Frank asking if he's ever had sex with anyone before, and Bill saying "There was a girl, a long time ago" and Frank saying "I know" made me so emotional because Frank is saying "I know you tried to fit in, and it didn't work".

And then I cried again when Frank asked him to spend their last day together. And then again when Bill decided to die with him.

Bill's message to Joel reminded me of some old queer books, like Stone Butch Blues, I read where butch lesbians defend their femme lovers, or where sensitive, femme gay men are defended by masc gay men. Not as a "simulation" of het relationships, but as a way of protecting the less vulnerable members of the community.

After all, while Bill is the one mostly protecting Frank, Frank also defends Bill when the raiders attack. He jumps in the line of fire to take him back inside and tends to his wound, saving his life. And Tess isn't just a "defendee" either, she's very capable and protects Joel and Ellie (as well as herself) in the short time we see her. Furthermore, she's never treated by Joel as just someone to protect. While he wants her to be safe, he lets her do her thing while guaranteeing her backup if she needs it.

It's like when adult queer people (the mature ones, at least) defend younger queer people with tooth and nail, because they can be really obnoxious and open about their queerness (in an endearing way, I promise!) and we won't let the world hurt our young. It's saying, "Actually, making your entire personality about being gay/trans IS a necessary part of the process, so fuck off!"

I saw someone on TikTok say episode 3 made him want to be a better man, and I think protecting the people you love is an amazing ideal of masculinity to uphold. I'm a trans man, which means I've had to analyze my view of manhood and masculinity than most cis men do, and I also think this is the conclusion I've gotten to.

Lastly, I'm actually pleasantly surprised at how the fandom took this episode! I mean yeah, there were the expected homophobic comments, but they're so cartoonishly hateful it's hard to take them seriously.

The rest of the public saying they disliked it seemed to be people who wanted the episode to be like the game, and for Joel to meet up with Bill. Which is fair, honestly (though I disagree).

The rest has been really accepting! I've seen so many cishet men saying they loved the episode and even cried watching it. It makes me hopeful that things are getting better even in fandom spaces that are traditionally homophobic, like gaming communities.

[marshmallowprotection]

So, y'know Lilas mom?

What if she went to South Korea for a vacation or something, y'know, ignoring how she hasn't told anyone about Lila missing (or in her imagination, probably, throwing a fit.)

And then she stumbles upon a little seminar about Mint Eye, held by C&R International.

And who does she see, leading it? Why, Wisteria, of course.

:)c

See, the implication of your statement means that Unknown won in the end thanks to Wisteria's dedication to his revenge. I don't think I have time to unpack how much worse that would be than an ending where Ray wins in the end. But, inevitably, the RFA would be swept into Mint Eye, sans the traitor and the liar, because we both know it won't be okay for them when Unknown gets his way.

No, because, I'm about to stew on what that would like for the both of them. Unknown getting what he wants won't make him happy and he will keep searching for something to fill the void, and Wisteria, even if she tries her best to give him what she has, I don't think it would just enough to make him accept a life after revenge. There would be a lot of tension between them, good and bad, struggling to make sense of everything.

Wisteria fell for him. Literally. She was manipulated to be his perfect assistant who never quits him. Her loyalty is to him first due to what happened during her cleansing ceremony. What is she supposed to do when Mint Eye isn't enough? She would start working even harder to make Mint Eye "better", and Rika would love to have that leverage over her... it puts her in a vulnerable position to use against Unknown if he lashes out.

(We both know Rika won't let Unknown get rid of Saeyoung and V if she can help it. So, Unknown will be angry and wrathful. How long... until he cracks and tries to take over Mint Eye?)

See, Wisteria would be under a lot of stress and pressure to be the best she can be... and if she sees her mother... the person who was the root source of every pain and insecurity she's ever had... the one who made her feel like she had to leave America entirely to be able to breathe? GOD. How is she supposed to react? She hates her mother with every fiber of her being by this point in her life. Her mother made all of this happen.

The good... the bad... and the ugly.

I think she'd have a meltdown, a very ugly and bitter meltdown, if she saw her mother again. By this point in the timeline, it could be up to a year or so since Lila left home. That's a long time to go thinking that your family doesn't give a shit about you. Her sister hasn't tried to see her, her mother hasn't tried to see her, and her other relatives haven't tried, either. It's radio silence. Of course, she thinks they decided she was better off away from them!

"She's just a spoiled child who doesn't know how to stop throwing a silly tantrum!"

That would be what shakes her so bad she can't please anyone for the sake of Mint Eye anymore. She'd wake up and realize, "Oh my God. Mint Eye will never give me or Unknown what we want. We're just like my childhood home. We can't live like this."

When she has that epiphany...

Let's just either the cult is going to belong to Unknown or they're going to burn the place to the ground and leave it.

Oh, but, the worst she can do to her mother in that place is just... hit her. She can slap her mother and leave, but that's the only thing she could ever do. I imagine she wouldn't, though. She'd shut down and someone would have to escort her out of the room. Her mother puts her into a state of fight, flight, or fawn. She normally freezes and isn't able to move. Wisteria lashes out to protect herself but... if her mom is there... her mask will shatter.

And she's just... a vulnerable person again... the same one who fell into Unknown's lap and decided to burn with him.

[lastoneout]

thinking about this again

Cuz like I'm reworking some lore given that I'm worried people will take the whole "Ophelia sharing part of her soul with Eugene so he can use his demon powers to save them both a la Ed in FMA using his own soul as a mini-philosopher's stone" thing as like, some kind of anti-feminist "man uses woman" thing when it's really not supposed to be, because the more I write about it and how it comes back the more I'm in love with what I want it to symbolize, which is the idea of opening yourself up to others and trusting them with the most vulnerable, intimate parts of yourself, because that's love and the thing Ophelia is REALLY struggling with like that's Her Thing To Accept

(And it goes both ways, Ophelia is finally able to trust someone enough to do something like that and know she won't get hurt, and Eugene is finally starting to not hate the fact that he's a demon and realize that being what he is, being who he is, ISNT wrong or bad or hurting the people he cares about, so again, not about ownership or using anyone, it's a moment of growth for both of them that also gets them out of a dangerous situation

Aaaaaand it's also probably going to be when they confess to each other, or at least Ophelia confesses to him, because after something THAT intimate what reason is there to keep hiding their feelings?)

And so when it comes back at the end and saves her life, it's specifically because the bit of herself that she shared with Eugene never quite went away, and when she nearly dies it still existing is what helps him and her friends save her.

Bcs what's really saving her isn't Eugene owning her or whatever, it's the fact that when we trust people and let them into our lives we sort of like, live on inside them in a way, it's a form of immortality, even when you're gone your loved ones carry on their love for you and their memory of you, and the more you let them in the more they carry, and so the real reason they can help her is because she let them into her life and trusted them to carry her, even when it was hard(and also ofc because they wouldn't even BE there at all if she hadn't done so in the first place lol)

And like it really does take all of them, Eugene tries to save her by himself at first and it doesn't work, he can't do it on his own, and that's also part of his growth in the moment, he's been running away from her to try to save her again and again, but it isn't until he stays that he actually can(in fact him trying to run away again IS what put her in a position to get hurt and nearly die)

And like neither of them were sacrificing themselves in the moment either, Ophelia getting hurt was kinda senseless, or like the big bad did it, and it happened after they had worked things out between them, and Eugene AND their friends don't have to sacrifice anything to save her

Bcs that's another main theme I want to have, constantly running away and trying to sacrifice yourself for others only leads to more misery in the end, staying with them and loving them and trusting them, that's what truly saves us(and ofc relying on the people we love makes us stronger, both at the end and in the original moment, they all get stronger and can save each other because they're relying on each other, something both Ophelia and Eugene struggle a lot with)

I know I shouldn't care but man I really, REALLY want to make sure people don't misinterpret this part cuz it's like the crux of Ophelia's entire character arc and I would never write something as shallow as "man uses woman" like that it's about LOVE and trust and intimacy and letting people in and not letting our self-hatred stop you from ever seeing all the good you can do THATS what's important gdi

Anyway Ophelia really is gonna get that quote from Firefly that's like "when you can't run you walk, and when you can't walk you crawl and when you can't do that you find someone to carry you" drilled into her head she is Not Allowed to give up on life anymore and she is Not Allowed to go it alone either

coping by thinking about my ocs anyway going insane about how Ophelia spends most of her life pushing people away because she's scared of being hurt only to later have her life saved specifically because she's surrounded by her friends

[bokuroo-squeals]

"I love you, and you love me. Isn't that enough?"+ Best Friend's Brother with Osamu

If this does well, I might do a part 2 but I seriously don't think this is good. It's written a little to awkward for my liking.

Event masterlist here.

Stolen glances were your favorites, getting to be unapologetically in love with someone and your secret unknown to the world. In silence,you could appreciate him, the color of his eyes, the tip of his nose, how his eyes crinkled in delight when he laughed. Delicious moments where you could enjoy him.

By stolen glances was the only way in which you could reach Osamu like the idiot in love you were, because you knew that if his brother ever found out how hard your heart beats for him, not only would he be scandalized, you also believed that he would also feel betrayed. After all, Atsumu had vocalized plenty of times his disdain at the thought of you and his brother together.

You were a good friend, you really were, and while you couldn't stop from falling har for his brother- yet you admit that you loved every second of your feelings- at least you did stop yourself from acting on them, as much as it was possible. Of course you tried, though it was hard when his own brother looked at you with a glint so fond on his eyes, when his warm hands seemed to find yours with no problem when you were close, but never reaching for them, just enough to brush yours and give you a taste of what they feel like.

You continue to watch Osamu form the distance, in your seat next to his brother while the younger twin laughs at something Suna said, and his laugh could be at his friend's words, but his eyes are on you. He turns his head to the game they're playing, the sofa small with two big bodies like theirs seating in them.

"Say, Y/n" Atsumu calls for your attention, looking at the sealing deep in thoughts. "Would you be interested in me setting you up with someone"

The spit in your mouth makes you choke with his words.

How were you supposed to react to the sudden proposition, and what were you supposed to say? Should you tell him that the only guy you're interested in at the moment was his twin? The brother that he prohibited you from dating since day one?

You're eyes travel again to Osamu, who isn't looking at you, but with the way his eyebrows furrow, you are aware of him listening, and your poor heart can't handle the pressure. By the sight of it, he doesn't seem to happy about the conversation Atsumu is intending to have, and neither are you but it's not like you can't tell him that, so with a sigh, one you hope sounds tired and annoyed enough to convince him, you kindly reject the direction he wants to take.

"No, thanks" cool, calm, you remember, stay cool and calm. Yet, Atsumu can't read the room, or chooses not to do it, as always, and continues despites it.

"C'mon, you can't be single forever. I know this guy, he saw a photo of you and he's interested in meeting you" he moves to face you, a self-satisfied smile on it, as if he is about to make something incredible by setting you up– he's not, in fact, you think he's really stupid in this moment– and his brows nudged towards you like an invitation to say yes.

By now, you're too afraid to turn to steal a glance at his brother, being it for a fear of how pissed you think he might be, or because of the fear of the blond catching you, either way, your eyes stayed focused on your idiotic best friend.

"I don't care, you're lame and so must be your friend" with a hand pushing him away, you're about to end the conversation "Anyways, instead of focusing on my love life, you should start one yourself" you huffed, ending the talk.

Atsumu pouts, and while he's not pleased with your crude answer, he listens, leaving you alone. Although that doesn't mean he's dropping his irritating antics, finding another prey, his brother.

"How about you, 'Samu? There's this girl I already rejected, but I guess she'll be interested on a date with you. Obviously, I am the handsome twin, but you're not that bad yourself"

It's not your place, it really isn't, to say no, to tell your friend to fuck off and leave Osamu alone because you want to be the only one for him. But you seriously want to do it, shout that he can't set up his brother with a random girl because you feel like he already belongs to you. And you know it's selfish, that's why you stay silent, with an invisible scowl and gritted teeth and fists clenching a little too hard.

For the nth time that night, Osamu's eyes land on your figure, meeting your's in the process. The difference is, that this time, he's look is both cold and hot. Cold as if they're telling you how tired they are, and hot as if to tell you he's ready to make you step up your game, almost challenging you.

"Yeah, of course, just know that once she's met me, she'll have clear who's the better twin. Won't even remember a thing 'bout you" Osamu's smirk is teasing, and everyone could say it was towards his brothers, but you knew better. It was dedicated to you.

A pang of something hurts in your chest, maybe of jealousy, and maybe it's the pain of hearing him giving up on whatever you're supposed to have. It's wrong, you're feeling the guilt of those sensations, because you're the one that has pushed him off, denying every single advice that could have been done, and still, you want him just for you.

It isn't until hours later, when Suna has left and Atsumu has fallen asleep when you talk for the first time this day, aside from the greetings.

You stand in the kitchen, a glass of water in your hand, trying to calm how agitated your insides are. At this point, the twins have left a disaster of your mind and heart, coming like a hurricane of emotions that hits you hard enough to hurt. A part of you wants to scream, declare your undying love for him, for his deep voice and calming irises, declare that he's yours and yours only– you remind yourself that he isn't– but the other side of you is too afraid, afraid of hurting the one person that has been next to you through everything and anything, the one who has picked up the broken pieces and helped you come back as one stronger version. You don't want to hurt or hurt anyone, which it's so damn hard in your position, but you know that you'd never forgive your heart if you let down Atsumu, if you even dare to disappoint him.

Osamu's entrance pulls you out of your trance, successfully taking your attention towards him, although he appears to ignore your presence, walking past you without a word. Painful, that's too painful for you.

"Osamu…" you trailed off, trying to make you as small as you can.

"Save it. I'm not in the mood to talk to you" he's cold, and you hate it, he's never been like this to you, but you can't blame him either. While he's cold, there's just the tiniest hint of anger on his voice, making you more unsettled.

"I'm sorry! I don't want to hurt you, you know that, is just that–" he interrupts you. He's pissed, his eyes show it, his chest puffs and shoulders tense, a sight you never want to see again.

"It doesn't matter, it's not like we're anything, anyway" his words cut deep inside you, damn they do.

You wished you could unhear the pain behind what he says, but it's right there, and it shows his vulnerability.

"That's not true… you know how I feel about you"

"Then let's do something about it! I love you and you love me, isn't that enough?!" The raw emotion touches your insides in the most painful but delicious way. You want to hold him close and comfort him, yet you don't think you have the right to do it. "So what if my brother doesn't approve it?! Are we supposed to forget about how we feel? Am I supposed to ignore how much I love when our hands meet? How much do I adore the way you look at me?! Or pretend that I'm burning to kiss you?! I'm sorry, Y/n but I don't care anymore about anything Atsumu has to say at this point."

He comes your way with big steps, and you coward a little at the sudden movement, and then he kisses you. A kiss is full of irritation, annoyance, love, care, all the bottled up feelings showing in a kiss that says more than words.

"I'm not hiding up how I feel anymore, so this is me officially asking you to be mine. You can reject me and we'll forget this happened, or you can accept and we'll face Atsumu, together".

Your answer is obvious, coming in the form of another kiss, one that's more tender, sweet and short.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 14

The Darkling x Reader

You felt fine after dinner, the food quickly replenishing your dwindled physique, but you didn't go back to work. You took Aleksander's advice and took the rest of the day to rest and take your mind off the countless tasks you had. There was one thing you needed to do though and that was thank Zoya for today.

She didn't have to do any of it, in fact, you believed she hated you from the minute you interrupted Aleksander's meeting. You were told by a servant she was out training Inferni's and so you made your way down to the Etherialki training grounds. She stood there, the image of a goddess. Her dark hair fell down her blue kefta in defined curls, collecting small snowflakes.

There was no indication she'd been involved in a deadly attack a mere 4 hours ago. Saints, I think I have a crush on Zoya. Nevertheless, you walked over to her, calling out her name to grab her attention.

'Deputy, how are you feeling?' She looked worried yet relieved to see you standing in front of her on both of your legs.

'Y/N will do Zoya.'

'Alright then'

'Thank you for today. I don't know what came over me.'

'We all have our moments. Some of us just hide them better' You couldn't tell whether that was a dig at you or not.

'You're an amazing soldier Zoya. I'm very impressed'

'Well I didn't just sleep my way to the top if that's what you're implying.' She turned her addicting gaze away from you, studying the young Infernis.

'I beg your pardon?' You were taken aback.

'How's your leg?' She tried to change the topic but you weren't ready to.

'What do you mean Zoya, spit it out.'

'You know what I mean Y/N.' Why was she avoiding the conversation if she brought it up in the first place?

'Are you and Gener-' Is this another thing he had lied to me about? You vaguely remember thinking the two had been involved when you seen them in the same room but it passed quickly, surely he would have told you, especially if it was with one of his most trusted Grisha? The thought was another painful blow to your gut. They just kept on coming. You couldn't finish your sentence for she already answered it.

'No.'

'Zoya'

'Not anymore... Alina is here now' The strong feisty woman was gone now, in her place was a hurt and rejected woman. You were old enough to see it, you had been her before, hell you were her now. You looked at her striking beauty, thought about her incredible skills, and then stupidly compared yourself to her. If he rejected her, you're next. Your silence must have comforted her more than words could, for she shrugged her shoulders and said

'He keeps saying she's his equal, the day to his night' His equal. That's what Alina said.

'You don't need anyone Zoya. I can promise you you'll amount to great things on your own.' Despite the hurt you felt, you focused on her.

'Well as of right now I'm stuck to skiff trips and when you request me' You eyed her inquisitively 'Our dear General's doings.' she admitted.

'What gave you such an honor' you teased.

'I got into a riff with the precious Sun-Summoner after she vexed me.' She shut her eyes tightly as if trying to forget the memory.

'She doesn't strike me as the vexing type-' Your conversation was quickly interrupted when an Inferni accidentally set alight more than just the mannequin and Zoya scrambled to put it out, scolding the boy in the process.

'I'll leave you to it then'

You walked away, hurt and on the verge of tears. You needed to speak to Aleksander, you were sick of him lying to you but you were even more tired of feeling that severe urge to cry every time you thought about him. You came here to do your job and to show everyone you had your powers under control, yet all you've done so far is the opposite. Saints be damned you would walk away from your position because of a complicated relationship, you were better than that. But you also recognized that if you confronted Aleksander about all of this, he would either have to tell you about his plans for Alina or lie again, and you knew he would lie. It was a vicious cycle, one that wouldn't end. It was heartbreaking knowing that the man who claimed to never stop loving you could lie to you so easily.

You were right to question your trust in him, he never gave you a reason not to.

***

He was sitting at his desk, back turned towards you. You hesitated, the thought of running out the door and locking yourself in your room sounding pretty attractive. Maybe a good cry will fix this.

'Y/N I thought I told you to rest' He spoke calmly, his hand never dropping the pen. You shut the doors, not wanting the guards outside to hear what you were about to say. This made him turn around.

'We need to talk'

He dropped the pen and paper and stood up, indicating he was all ears. You glued your eyes to his knowing your vulnerability peeked through but you didn't care to hide it.

'What are your plans for me, Aleksander?'

He cocked his head to the side, confused. 'What?'

'Why keep me around when Alina is here?'

You were never the jealous kind, but you came to realize this wasn't jealousy. It was disappointment and aching after being away from him for almost a century. You had built up this life in your head, one where everything was perfect and Aleksander hadn't changed but you raised the bar too high. The bad parts of Aleksander faded away with each year and the best parts of him enhanced in your mind. You had forgotten what he was truly like, plus coming to terms with the fact that he lived a seemingly happy life while you were gone stung a bit too. With each day, the disappointment turned into hurt and anger.

'Y/N I already told you, I have a plan.'

'So you expect me to watch you and Alina fawn over each other while I stay in the shadows being a dutiful Second in Command? I may be loyal but I'm not going to blindly follow along Aleksander, not anymore.' It's making me miserable.

His hands reached out for you but you moved away. 'You know I love you Y/N' He said as if the foolish statement would make your worries and anger melt away.

'Then act like it'

'It's not that simple.'

'It never is, is it?' You bitterly laughed. What's the point of loving somebody if you're not willing to do everything to make them stop hurting?

'Why won't you tell me?' Your voice was a whisper he barely registered. 'Do you not trust me? Cause I'll admit it right now, I may love you, but I don't trust you Aleksander.'

Your admission hit him like a pile of bricks. He was brought back to when you first met, your shaking body radiating hostility as you rode in the carriage with him. He tried to assure you you were safe, you were one of his Grisha now, but you were having none of it. You didn't trust anybody for months after you arrived in the Little Palace, especially him and right now, it was all back to square one.

'Have I really given you that many reasons to not trust me?' It had been so long since he had somebody to care for and love that he forgot how to act around you. Perhaps he was back to square one too.

'Yes. Your sly comments about killing the King and finding the stag, your relationship with Alina, even with Zoya- Aleksander you're lying to me every day and you think I'll still be compliant. I'm not the same Y/N you remember.'

'You know what I want Y/N. You've always known'

'I do, but I need to know how you're going to do it all. How can I be supportive when I don't know what the hell is going on around me. A goodnight kiss every now and then won't fix this if you're doing the same to somebody else'

'Is this what this is? Your way of saying I'm fucking my Sun-Summoner on the side?'

'I never said that. All I wanted to know was why I'm not in on the plan that's supposed to give us more power. Is it because I'm a loose cannon, are you scared of what I'll do if I won't agree with you?'

You were sure of one thing; while you were gone nobody dared to disagree with the Darkling and he had grown to get used to it. Power corrupts, resistance humbles.

Somehow you still held your composure, albeit it was difficult. Aleksander however, was losing his temperate demeanor. He was pacing the lengths of the room and his hand had brushed through his hair countless times, the image of someone who was backed into a corner they couldn't get out of.

'I haven't told you because I don't want you to get burned. If it goes wrong it would be good to have some of us not hanged for treason would it not?' Bullshit. He must've forgotten you had the power of a heartrenderer. Aleksander was lying right through his teeth.

'You and I both know that's not true. If history is any indication then they'll turn on all Grisha.'

'And you'll be here to make sure they don't.' He tried to reason but you let out a loud laugh.

'Up until 2 weeks ago you didn't even consider giving me my old post back, do you really expect me to believe you changed your strategy in a matter of days?'

He stayed silent and settled against his desk. His crossed arms showed he was in no mood to discuss any further but you weren't done. He was going to tell you everything whether he liked it or not. You were sick of being kept in the dark. You had your title of Deputy back now, yet you still had no idea what truly went on and had no real sway against the top-ranking Grisha who no doubt were in on the plans. Power corrupts, resistance humbles, and you were done being humbled.

'Aleksander don't make me force it out of you' As soon as the words left your mouth you tried to find some part of you that regretted them but came up empty-handed.

His head whipped around with whiplash speed. You could see the internal battle going on behind his eyes of whether you would actually make do on your threat. You didn't know whether it was empty or whether you actually would do it but it was tempting.

'You said you changed, but I don't think you did' He retorted, eyeing you up and down with a look of displeasure. The situation was a shift from the usual, this time he was the one losing control and spiraling whereas you were the perfect example of a calm before the storm. The Little Witch he had grown to love and worship.

'I'm stronger, I can be stronger. I am limitless' You prided yourself on the restraint you'd shown thus far. You were in a palace full of Grisha, of Healers, a Tailor, a Sun-Summoner yet you didn't make any moves to take anything. The old Y/N wouldn't hesitate to take what wasn't hers. Maybe that's why you would burn out, lose as you gained. This time you knew how to do it properly, how to be an Elemental who yielded it all.

'Your quench for power is contending mine, Sweet Y/N.' For the second time in your life, you saw fear in Aleksander's eyes. He always had a feeling you yearned to have a stronger grasp of the Second-Army and for so long, even now, you tried to lie to yourself and deny it. But deep down some voices always whispered 'it's only right to have a leader who represents them all'.

'Wrong. I already have it, I just need to use it.' You raised your hands slowly, showing him you meant what you said. I'm really doing this. Your heart dropped when his raised too. He's willing to hurt me to protect his lies.

'There's no going back from this' You felt weirdly ready. Although you had never used your Grisha powers against Aleksander in a fight, you had a hefty slice of hope in you that you could overpower him. You had what he had and more.

'Y/N stop this.'

'Why? So that you'll lie to me again? Make me the other woman? It's inevitable that it comes to this' Your heart picked up in speed as your breathing became rapid. The influx of power at your fingertips itched to get out and make itself useful and containing it was painful.

Shadows pooled on the ground and around your feet yet you didn't know who they belonged to. Technically they're all his, I just know how to control them.

Panic shot through you as you felt a tendril of the black nothingness grasp around your wrist. No. You let yourself go, snapping the shackle and mirroring it on him. He had never experienced cruelty at the hands of his own power until now and was completely powerless as the black restraints rendered him useless. You concentrated on his pulse, soothing it to its normal rate then into a slow hum, relaxing his mind. This all felt so wrong yet so right.

'I'm feeling merciful today. When you feel up to it, tell me everything, or else I promise I won't hesitate Aleksander. We're the same in that manner.'

You watched as he gathered himself, anger rising onto his face. His moves were rigid and stiff despite your previous soothing.

'Time is ticking' Before he could say another word, you left the defeated Darkling, instilled with a sudden sense of pride.

______

Part 15

Here's my masterlist where you can find previous parts of this series!

Taglist (Tell me if u want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

[eijie-cavies]

Wen Kexing and the great divide.

So as we all know Episode 32 and 33 has left us with a plethora of questions and the fans are divided in terms of their view on Wen Kexing's plan. Tbh that is to be expected if you look at it. It was an asshole move to hide everything from A-Xu and leave him to find his soulmate's dead body only to find holy shit this motherfucker is alive still what the hell. And so a lot of the fans sided with the argument that Wen Kexing never learned and was acting like a selfish lone wolf. But today i am here to try to analyze the plan between Scorpion king, Wen Kexing and Ye bai Ye.

Please keep in mind i haven't watched the entirety of the show yet and so some theories here might not fit in with the rest of Kexing's explanation for the next episode.

Also thid will contain spoilers so please be warned.

Alright let's start. I will be dividing this analysis into parts. 1st part is the show's script and budgeting and why they chose the route that the went with.

2nd part is my theories on the heroes conference and why it was rushed as well as the timeline.

And lastly Wen Kexing's POV and the analysis for his plan and why he did what he did keeping A-Xu in mind as well.

A few extra bonuses is the romeo and juliet plot and why i think it had to be in the plot somehow.

So lets start, sit down and grab a drink for this you will need it.

1st part.

Scriptwriting and budgeting.

This show was supposed to have 45 episode and so the plot would have had more time to marinate and kick in if it weren't for the shortening of the epsiode.

With this in mind the scriptwriter had originally planned for this 45 episode and sadly we won't probably know what was supposed to happen if it weren't cut to 36 episode. But we do have Wolong nuts to thank for giving the drama sponsorship and making the drama into 36 rather than 32. If we had only 32 episodes in this drama everything would have felt too rushed and fast paced. And so to have to cut 9 episodes worth of plot the screewriter was put in a tight spot on how to cram three different events. Namely the kidnapping, the exposing of Zhao Jing and of course the wedding plot as well.

Thus the Romeo and Juliet plot was born. We will be discussing this plot in depth later on in the analysis. Nonetheless if they have had all the freedom and budget it would have been nice to see a plot of Zhou Zishu, Wen Kexing and The Scorpion King all work together to bring Zhao Jing down. For now let us work on the plot given to us.

2.) Timeline.

The heroes conference is a huge deal, this is where EVERYONE of big sects and names gather in the martial arts world, its the equivalent of the whole world witnessing everything. This event is a big part of the plan that the three accomplices had, if they didn't act right away Wen Kexing and Xie'er (Scorpion King) wouldn't have had the chance to expose Zhao Jing in the future, because like what the beauty ghost relayed, once the heroes conference is over Zhao Jing planned on killing Xie'er and eradicating the ghost valley. There would have been no other time to take him down, no time to wait for another heroes conference as Zhao Jing would have risen in power already, they would have been too powerful to stop and the merits he would have gained by then would be multiplies, the people wouldnt see him as evil anymore. Therefore it was crucial to strike at the time where they are most vulnerable and the seed of doubt was still fresh, if they had waited, everyone would have disregarded Wen Kexing as a mad man and praised Zhao Jing for saving them from the purges of the ghost valley.

And scorpion king? Who would believe him if he was the only one to take a stand? His Godfather no doubt would have acted as if he didnt know what Scorpion was saying and act innocent. Even if he was spared Scorpion had no allies other than Wen Kexing who's allies was also born out of the same hatred they had for Zhao Jing. Everyone was forced to act swiftly, it was an all or none kind of situation. Now if we backtrack to the previous episodes, not two episode ago Zhou Zishu was heavily injured because of the kidnapping and was given no time to properly heal before everything needed to be set. As you can see in episode 31 Wen Kexing was in a hurry to meet Xie'er, don't you think it was iffy that he would leave A-Xu like that if he was still injured? The Wen Kexing that we all know would not have moved a single inch from Zhou Zishu's side if he were injured. And this is because of a lot of things which we will be getting to in the third part of the analysis.

Now on the subject of the plan and how Chengling had somehow gotten a hold of it. Simple, Ye bai Yi. He is free to roam around, sending messages and talking to people behind the scenes, we never really knew what he did after he left Wen kexing at four seasons manor and the reason why he had agreed on the rushed reopening of the heroes conference. but if you think about it it fits with the timeline. Zhao Jing wanted to reopen the heroes conference and Ye Bai Yi was sure that they were out to hunt down the chief of the ghost valley. If you remember the letter in episode 27 you will understand.

Why did they get that letter in the first place when the four seasons manor wasnt even fully restored yet? The martial arts world didnt even know that Zishu was on the road to reopening it and yet he got an invitation. This is Ye Bai Yi's first clue and a nudge for Wen Kexing to take action. This leads us to part 3. Wen Kexing's plan.

3. Wen Kexing's plan.

Now the question is why didn't Wen Kexing think to tell Zhou Zishu his plan? Simple. He is heavily injured. Now i was stuck here as well because i would have thought, why couldnt he just trust Zishu of his plan? BUT you all have forgotten this.

Wen Kexing has asked this two times, he wanted tell Chengling already so the kid could process it before he could stage his plan and possibly even tell Zhou Zishu on how he can use the heroes conference as an event where he can expose Zhao Jing. But Zhou Zishu was kidnapped, tortured and injured. There was no time to tell him of the plan without him having to stop Wen Kexing from doing it. At first i thought this didnt make sense, Wen should have trusted Zishu enough to carry on without distrubance right? Well a very nice person in Youtube provided some very interesting and eye opening points for me.

And they are right, if i were Wen kexing i wouldn't want to burden Zishu of having to wait around thinking where i went off to, why do you think he told A-Xiang to take care of Zishu and promised to go back in one piece?

A-Xiang was also kept in the dark of the plan, the only plan she knew was that Wen Kexing is planning to have an alliance with the scorpion king and thats it. He didnt fully disclose everything either.

Wen Kexing's plan was simple, after he was regarded as "Dead" he probably would have went home to tell Zhou Zishu he was completely fine and it was all a ruse to trap Zhao Jing. BUT the problem was that Zishu set out to find him, Bei Yuan and Da Wu couldn't stop him either as they had no time to explain everything without Zishu panicking. Like i said this was all too rushed of a plan for Zishu to comprehend specially when he needed to heal as fast as possible.

What they could only do is give Zishu a medicine to ensure that if he ever did take out the nails he would still be okay. And that was the downfall of Kexing's plan. He didnt expect Zishu to have escaped his friends watchful eyes and go to the siege, ever wonder why Kexing said this when Zishu arrived?

He was trying to convince Zishu to leave, make him believe that Wen Kexing is out for blood. But Zishu didn't fall for it, instead he stayed which was NOT a part of the plan at all. There was nothing Kexing could have done now, the siege was happening and he could only play along and move forward. And if you look closely again just as they were about to attack Kexing, Ye Ba Yi came to fight Kexing at the VERY right time, and who fought Zhou Zishu?

The three ghosts WuChang, his subordinate and Happy ghost. Why didn't anyone else go for Zishu? They could have had the scorpions attack him but they chose the Ghosts who are a part of Wen Kexing's valley, mind you these three ghosts were there when they rescued Zishu wouldn't it just sound stupid if they were fighting Zishu to kill him? No. What they tried to do is separate Zishu from Wen Kexing. Ye Bai ye could have eliminated Wen in 10 moves, he said this himself. But they had this complicated dance that somehow landed Wen Kexing at the edge of the cliff and left Chengling to do the rest.

And so he fell and Zishu followed. If you look closely even Ye Bai Yi was surprised that Zhishu jumped. NONE of it was part of the plan. From the moment Zishu entered to the moment he jumped no one planned for it.

And if you are upset of Zishu having to see Kexing's dead body and breaking his heart, this again was NOT A part of the plan. Beauty ghost was there to protect the corpse, if the corpse had not been burned it would have been presented to the martial art world and Kexing would come back as a different person and telling them "They got it wrong. That corpse is the chief of the ghost valley, i am Wen Kexing the disciple of four seasons manor" and it would have been more belieavable. But plans went south, Zishu found the corpse further solidfying that Kexing (in his mind) is dead and so he took out the nails. Ke xing couldn't show himself to stop Zishu either, there was so little time and he couldn't risk himself be seen.

Some others had been in the dark of the plan as well, not just Zishu, and the reason Wen Kexing didn't dare tell him was not because he didn't trust Zishu to stay away and let the plan carry out, instead he know EXACTLY what this will do to Zishu. Wen Kexing's plan was to HIDE Zishu away until the conference ended. Because with Da Wu and Bei Yuan, there would have been no news about Ke Xing dying that would have reached their place and Zishu would have had all the time to recover as Ke Xing took revenge and finally come back home as a new person.

He NEEDED Zishu to stay away from the fight to help himself heal just enough to get the nails out.

His revenge done and his new goal to be with Zishu for the rest of their lives. But unfortunate events happened, Zishu found out and there was other way to go but forward.

Ever wonder why Kexing had this look on his face on episode 33?

He wanted so bad to explain everything but the spotlight was on him and this was the only time he will be given the chance to take a stand. This is now between him and the Zhao Jing. Like everything there was nothing to do but move forward.

Now for bonus part.

Romeo and Juliet plot.

Romeo and Juliet plot is basically person A percieved as "Dead" and person B endagering their life to the brink of death only to find person A was alive and well but Person B is for real dying.

Now tbh i wasn't a big fan of the Romeo and Juliet plot, this was the reason why fans became so divided and saying Kexing didn't learn his lesson therefore lossing their faith in Kexing and Zishu's relationship. He was pervieved as childish and selfish, And tbh they would have had so many plot devices that they can use to maximize full on plotting and bringing down Zhao Jing. But going back to my first point of the budgeting im guessing the scriptwriter had struggled to cram it all in. It was already episode 33 and they still had two more plots to cram in (the wedding and curing Zishu) so im not as upset as much. In the end the whole staff gave their best and poured their heart and soul into the drama. On an ending note i'll just let this nice person do the talking for me

Thank you for reading! If you guys have your own theories feel free to discuss or voice them out.

[dreamiesdotcom]

butterfly effect│nct dream

Summary: You think of it as something caused by the butterfly effect — the great loves you had to leave, and the one that made you stay.

Pairing/s: 7dream x Reader

Word Count: 12k

Moon's note: since it's my birthday and I promised... it's not the best but I'd like to thank you guys for staying with me and wishing me a happy birthday! I hope you all have an awesome 2021!

You weren't really thinking straight when you met him — instead, your mind was a mess of one thought and sidelines; the little things. Butterfly effect. The knowledge that ten minutes from now the train will board — you'll miss your ride to school, you'll miss school — so you run faster, faster, and there it goes. The butterfly effect — knowing that what little thing you did could've changed someone's life entirely.

If you have made it ten minutes earlier, maybe you'd be sitting in the spot where a child buzzes with excitement, knowing that she'll see her father sometime soon, and in exchange, she will be in another place — maybe she won't meet the girl sitting across who offers her one of her candies. Maybe she won't be riding the train at all — maybe she would have to wait six months again before she can go see her dad.

You sulkily take the path to one of the exits, thinking about catching the bus or something. The skies are dark and you're aware of its plan, also aware that you left your umbrella. Frustrated and too annoyed to even think about school, you crash to the empty bench, bags left to drop to the floor. Tough luck. 

The boy chuckles, "Missed the train too?"

"Yeah," you grumble, not even bothering that he's a total stranger. "Was caught in a daydream and got lost on the way. You?"

"Eh, my idiot of a best friend made me wait," he shrugs. He brings his book down and offers you a handshake, "I'm Huang Renjun — I see we study at the same place. May I know your name?"

You don't speak after a minute or two, but you shake his hand, to which he laughs at. You think it was you being overwhelmed. Maybe your soul just knew how much impact he was meant to throw at your life.

Huang Renjun doesn't become a one-time encounter, but instead, he becomes someone you take train rides with; be it you're late or not, to school or to the library. He stays constant occurrence, so much that Huang Renjun turns into Renjun, then Renjunnie — until you're free to call each other names like 'dumbass' and 'stupid' and everything crumbles down; formalities, facades, walls. You don't feel it then, but if you were to look back, you think it's that one dark-skied Monday with you two terribly late and finding yourselves back in the same bench, when everything the world laid down for you has shifted.

Renjun pout his lips, bored. He tears his bag from himself and lets it stay under the shed, but he stretches his hands out to the sky where his eyes are set, watching water fall in tiny drizzles before a full-blown rain, "Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?"

"When we should be at school?" you huff, more amused than questioning but it comes out as a scolding. He only nods his head, and you furrow your brows, "Renjun, you're crazy."

He doesn't reply, only answers with a deadpan gaze that asks Are you going or not? and it makes you tighten your expression further. 

"Hold me."

The boy grins in triumph — he cheekily smiles, immediately pulling you under the rain and laughs like a tiny kid. It's contagious, you figure out, his laughter; if not for his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours, you would've fallen over laughing with him. It was less of a dance and more of a cuddle, swaying to the sound of the rain and his sweet hums. Renjun whispers to you the melody of a love song, and you couldn't help but ponder.

"I always wanted to do this, you know?" you feel silly even confessing, "To dance under the rain with someone, look into each other's eyes, exist as if the world doesn't and maybe give them a kiss. I wonder how that'd feel."

Renjun's serenity read ideas — those that never failed to get you two in trouble. He tilts his head, "Kiss me, then."

You feel like the world stops, and your heartbeat slows, as if the raindrops are little speckles of star-like lights littering the surroundings. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, shock ripping through your body, a confused sound escaping your throat, "What?"

"I guess you don't always need to have feelings for the person you're kissing," Renjun purses his lips. Of all people, you laugh in your head, those words you expected to come out of this one's mouth the least. He huffs, "And I don't have feelings for you."

There's just enough hesitation — uncertainty, unpredictability, skepticism — in his eyes that you find he can't be trusted as much as he normally would be. Renjun drops a half-smile, eyes unreadable, "But I sure do know I want to kiss you. A lot. Right now." 

Renjun smiles in victory the second time that day.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You come across Donghyuck in the most inconvenient way possible; a few months after you started dating Renjun and there's a little too many mishaps with making schedules meet. He strides to your chair one sunny Friday, clothes too colorful for the shades of beige decorating the place. Donghyuck didn't know how to approach you; he just kind of winged it by showing you Renjun's texts that he asked him to pick you up because something came up and he can't make it anymore. You didn't really like that — the fact that he didn't even speak, the fact that Renjun stood you up. You thought Donghyuck was arrogant. The car ride home was silent.

He was far from that, you learn the one too many times the same scenario occurred. Renjun was too busy to even show up, more often in the library than in his own place. Donghyuck, being his best friend, never failed to be there for you, keep your relationship intact, make excuses for the other. He'll pick you up from where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend, grab food and spend the whole day playing video games that only he understands, and then half of the time he'll compliment you with little playful remarks. That day was supposed to be nothing so different from the others — it's just that it didn't take much longer for Donghyuck to fall.

How could he not? You smiled so lovingly and spoke so gently, always so understanding and patient and kind. How can he not, when he's already known what song makes your day the most? When he saw how ethereal you looked under the moonlight, as he danced with you by the shore? Sure, maybe most of these moments wouldn't have been if it wasn't for Renjun's absence, and truly most of the things he loves about you aren't for him; he fell in love anyway. Still, that day was supposed to be nothing so different from any others — you're stuck in the odd place quite between grateful and guilty.

"Something came up, he won't be here." The boy says firmly through gritted teeth, hands-on your wrist trying to make you get up, "Please. He doesn't have his phone. He's not coming anymore, let's go home."

"Let me wait for him, please," you say, eyes teary, "Please, Donghyuck."

"No." He simply mutters, and whether it was the sinking feeling of defeat or the determination in his voice, it doesn't matter. You let yourself get tugged away from that place, feeling weak and oddly empty. The car ride home was silent. 

"Thanks a lot, you know?" You shyly say later, once Donghyuck's lost enough in video games and he's run out of knock-knock jokes and witty statements. He couldn't stand the sight of you with your head hung low and eyes teary, "You're always there for me when Renjun is not and... just thank you."

"You're welcome," he sincerely replies. You try to look for it, the lilt in his voice or the smirk stretching his lips, but all you see is worry, and it concerns you. The bad butterflies in your stomach, the bad thoughts in your head; you feel like right now, with you so vulnerable, there should be someone by your side — someone that is totally not Donghyuck. He clears his throat, "You know he didn't mean to, right? He wants time with you too, a lot, you know?"

"I know what I have, Hyuck," you reply, a chuckle at the end of your tone. You lean your back to the couch, head tilted up and voice hoarse, "and I'm fucking scared I'll take him for granted."

Donghyuck's heartbeat slows down, but you don't need to know that. If you're thinking of a similar situation, a place in time back then as cruel winters and as harsh as summer sunlight in the afternoon, you figure he doesn't need to know that, too.

You let out a huff and a smile, "I don't want to know how painful it is to lose Huang Renjun."

Donghyuck thinks he knows why you said it; things normally go down the drain when you start realizing why someone fell for a certain person — at least, he thinks. If his experience is a reliable source, this is the point where you start falling for that person too. When you see how gentle they are, how caring, how understanding. Maybe Donghyuck is lonely — maybe he just wants to be someone who holds another person, singing them lullabies until they fall asleep, much like Renjun does for you. Maybe you're really just lovely — maybe there's an undiscovered force in the universe that places you in the center of his everything. He makes note of the rejection in your confession, and he accepts it, gracefully.

This is the point where he suppresses all the what-ifs in his head — what if you gave me a chance? What if I met you first? What if I didn't skip class that day, and I was with Renjun, and I met you at the same time as him? Do you think you would've ended up with me? — but these thoughts, despite being concealed, they leave a constant reminder that they're still there. It's a truth you both already know, the words that drip like honey from his lips, "I could love you better, so much better."

It'd be a lie to say you didn't think of it, considering his feelings. It would be an even bigger lie if you said that you don't think anyone can love you better than Renjun — you know someone can, and with how you two are handling this, it wouldn't be so hard to. Donghyuck is just so easy to fall for — the way he always knows the right thing to say, the compliments he throws at people, how confident he is, how clingy he gets. You would lie if you're asked, but you can't deny having feelings for Donghyuck, you can't deny how many times you've fallen in a reverie thinking of how good it must feel to be adored by him. Maybe you were lonely, maybe Donghyuck was just like that. Either way, no matter how great this love could be, you know it's wrong. 

"I know you could. I couldn't be any happier when I'm with you. Those instants, they're one of the most beautiful moments in my life, but —" you halt, eyes still staring up at the ceiling. The twist in your gut tightens as you proceed, "But in those moments, I was secretly hoping for things. I was hoping that he was the one doing all of that for me. I was hoping that the happiness I had with you, he was giving me instead."

Donghyuck remains silent for a while. He smiles wistfully, "I know."

It's a rather odd answer, but you figure it shouldn't shock you as much anymore. You sit up straight, confused. Donghyuck motions for you to stand as he does the same. Stars shine in his eyes still, but it's a different light — there's hope in them, but it's a difficult kind of hope. He's beautiful even under dull lighting, it's something hard to pronounce; unrestrained and raw, as if one look at him and you'll crumble.

"Please, for just a while, even just a little bit," He steps closer, eyes downcast, "hold me like you love me."

You figure you were right about thinking that there was always something wrongfully more with Donghyuck — also discover that no matter how much more this feeling is, whatever it is, it can never be love; at least not a healthy one. What love could possibly ruin relationships? Donghyuck and Renjun are practically soulmates — they were made to be best friends, and while they had their other friends, nobody is just like Renjun and nobody is like Donghyuck. You don't want them to fall apart; you of all people know how hard it is to lose someone special. 

Donghyuck's hug felt like fire, uninhibited and uncontrolled, given to someone so undeserving. You hold him like you love him the same way.

"I don't need you to love me back," but maybe he was hoping a bit. Yeah. Maybe. "There was never a chance for us, you know? Against my own best friend, I know I won't stand a chance. I just wanted to hear it from you."

A pause.

"Because I can dance with you under the moon, and I can walk on streets holding your hands, I can give you all the time in the world — I could spend a lifetime telling everyone I'm yours," Donghyuck locks gazes with you, and you wonder how he manages to be both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. He shakes his head a bit, "But that won't make you love me."

"Because I can only ever catch you," he says wistfully "whenever he fails to. I always do, don't I? Catch you, save you, love you. But you're not falling for me. You're not in need of my saving. You're not mine to adore."

He loosens his hug, looks at you like the sun bidding farewell to the moon. He's just as beautiful, if not more, he really is — gold dusting his eyelids and strawberry balm on his lips — he's ethereal. Donghyuck is beautiful in all ways manageable and not, but it's also a different kind of beauty — quite like love, adventurous but uncertain, poetic but tragic. There's a lot of pain in this beauty. He closes his eyes.

"There's not much of us, but I'm setting you free."

═ ∘❁∘ ═

You find yourself knocking at Renjun's door that night, for no particular reason — certain events made you forget that he stood you up. Renjun apologizes and repeats his reasons like a mantra, but words seemed to leave his mouth once he sees your eyes; tired and sore. You don't really need his apologies. You just need him.

Apologies, you see, they almost always never come when they're asked for. When they do, they're mostly unwanted and unnecessary from that point forward. You just feel odd, more restless than you actually are, the world is too loud — you just want to close your eyes and escape for a bit. Renjun holds you silently the whole night, his heartbeat calm, his arms holding you tight and secure.

Renjun knows, but he decides it's better for him not to. He shifts a bit, "If not because of me, why are you sad?"

A part of you knows that this is his way of telling you he understands, that he's aware of what somethings happened behind his back. Renjun always knows. The bigger part of you hoped he didn't — selfishly. You know it's the safest choice to keep your mouth shut. 

You're sad, for a million reasons or for just one, you don't bother keeping up with the numbers. Renjun looks at you like you're a treasure, though, like he means it — you think the only favor you could do him and for yourself as well is to lie. You grin, effectively hiding away the tears threatening to brim your eyes, "I forgot."

He doesn't really know what answer he expected, but his heart sinks at the reply nonetheless. Renjun decides, tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes quickly in a way Renjun wishes it wasn't. He wakes up tired — he was up all night singing lullabies to himself, whispering confessions that wouldn't change a thing and promises he'll never be able to fulfill, stuff that would never make you stay. Renjun didn't cry all night — there was a tear or two, there was three — he didn't just cry all night. He did so much more — relive the past, think that he's sorry, accept defeat and the fact that he's never gonna be enough for you; then he closes his eyes. The rain pours heavily outside and Renjun reaches a hand out to the sky.

"Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?" he says with tired eyes. "One time once more, baby."

You ignore the telltale signs of a heartache — maybe you were too numb, maybe you wanted to pretend it's all normal. Renjun tugs you outside and pulls you into a hug so tight, as if he didn't want to let go but he's losing you. Is he? 

Dancing with Renjun under the rain is oddly similar to the one you shared with Donghyuck under the moonlight, and you find yourself full of guilt as you sway together with him, humming love songs just right next to your ear. 

Renjun knows of that dance, of course he does. He was in front of the place you two were supposed to meet at, hoping that he could still make it. Because of this, he doesn't ask why you're entwining fingers with his while recalling memories of another. He doesn't mind — he thinks, as long as your eyes look at him so softly like that, he doesn't mind anything.

You think Renjun is beautiful like this — his everything an aesthetic you can endlessly write about. His eyes, though, his eyes look distant, wishful and longing. Renjun looks at you like he's letting you go and your heart drops, as gentle and as sweet as the poems he's written of you and the kiss he gifts your lips with.

"Just leave, darling," he whispers, "Stay a lovely memory to me."

It's just like any lovely excerpts you wrote, the last line with Renjun quite familiar and bittersweet. As if in any other circumstances, had he said only the second sentence and the second sentence only, it would have made your heart skip and your cheeks rise in temperature.

Real love is a little not like literature, though, at least the one you had with Renjun isn't. It wasn't almost being the same person. It wasn't sweet chaos. For both of you, it was doing what was the best for each other at the moment — whether it will make you cry, whether it will be painful before it becomes easy, knowing that it won't always be picture perfect but still wanting to give each other what you deserve. It was so much simpler than how he said it in his poetry, just as complicated but not any less romantic than that. Huang Renjun knew that you were aware of what was the best for the both of you — with neither of you ever wanting to force something to work and end up hating each other the more it fails, successfully trading the happy memories with more regrets, you walk away. Renjun doesn't follow just because love isn't always like the idea of it, but he does remember to never forget. You walk away, holding his love dear to your heart.

═ ∘❁∘ ═

Some people are just not meant to be alone, you think. Mark Lee comes just as quickly as Renjun was gone.

You don't even know why your paths crossed — Mark is literally the town's golden boy. He plays sports and aces exams and has a good set of friends; surely, he has more important matters to deal with, and definitely getting coffee at a dingy coffee shop isn't one of them. Not when it's three a.m in the morning, at least.

The shy barista at the counter sends you a gleeful smile as he hands out your order, one which you return with a curt nod and a quiet wish goodnight. He watches intently, subtle but focused — he really isn't one to gawk at people, but he couldn't help it. You held with you a smile that doesn't match the exhaustion in your eyes. You looked like hope. You looked like someone to look up and search for the stars even on a cloudy day. You seemed like a full-bloomed spring to trapped minds and sour hearts. You think Mark is a little too curious like Alice. Mark thinks you're even better than the Wonderland he'd always fall for.

He knows you saw him, he feels the hesitation in your stare. He knows you know him, he's shared a couple of classes with you and has done a couple of assignments as a team, so naturally, Mark couldn't help himself but ask, "Wanna sit down with me?"

You walk up to him with a nod, grateful. Mark tries to remain calm for the rest of the night — caffeine not helping — and he tries to look at his book instead of you, but he simply fails to. He tries his best to conceal himself, but he can't seem to tear away. He can't look at anywhere else when you're sitting there right in front of him — you know pain, you're familiar with sadness, have always been friends with enduring what you couldn't take; Mark sees in you a landscape that makes his heart hurt, a leafless tree he loves by itself but couldn't resist the urge to nurse back into life. Every now and then you'd look up from your cup and he would look away from this book that he's "reading" and your eyes would meet, and the both of you would shyly giggle and open up a small talk.

He walks you home that night, this one and the other and the many next times after that; it's just your thing by now, getting coffee at the most unreasonable hours of the day and staying up until it's too late for either of you to sleep because by this hour you should be blinking awake, walking down lifeless streets and past neon signs and holding hands. Mark would look at you with such awe and when he does, you have some things you forget, and your heart races. He's became a regular part of your day, a constant stranger. And then he becomes your friend. Then kind of more. You think, maybe, just maybe, he can become something more than more.

"I have many regrets in this life, you know? But I don't wanna be imprisoned by them," you shrug, too scared to look up at him and see that he wonders just what failures you've done. You continue your slow pace, both in walking and letting go of things much like words, "I don't want you to be one of them."

Mark stops walking, but he doesn't make you feel like you've said something wrong, so you finally glace up and meets his eyes; those that hold as much tiredness as yours, pressure, those that are glassy and brimming with tears. You smile, "And I like you, a lot, even if I'm in broken pieces. "

Mark looks at you and doesn't see majestic brokenness. Mark falls deeper in love that day, the next and all the others; you were deep like that. He fell and couldn't stop falling and he can't wait to fall even deeper into you, diving into unknown waters with blind fates and silent confessions of love. 

Your relationship was practical — literal and convenient, full of compromise but in a good way. You both were almost always on the same page of what should be done and how to do it, and if not, you two know that it's the best to give it a rest and understand. The balance, that kind of synchrony — it was something you both need, was something you liked about your dynamic; the fact that the partnership was there and you're certain of no taking more than you could give and no giving of less than you deserve. For once, you feel like you aren't pouring liquid into a leaking jar, and you feel content at the warmth he gives you with.

Renjun never made you feel this way; he didn't make enough accommodations for your relationship and you didn't voice out your expectations of him, you just wished he magically knew. Because he always knew that you would understand and other people wouldn't, he ended up giving you most of the weight of the relationship you both should've carried together. Mark was everything you hoped Renjun was; this is where the conflict begins.

When love is fueled by what the past wasn't able to give and what the present is willing to offer, you end up falling for the ideas and not the person. He makes up to what Renjun didn't, he filled to the brim what Renjun wasn't able to, he satiates what Renjun couldn't satisfy. You always saw the things Mark did as what you expected from someone else, so you weren't able to appreciate them as they are. You never truly saw him as Mark Lee who loves you, always as the boy who did everything the last didn't. 

Just as any relationship that revolves around somebody who's not involved, the conclusion was something you saw coming. It comes with tired eyes and worn out sighs, burned out hearts and linked fingers, sour hearts turning bitter. Mark doesn't look at you at all, and you keep your eyes set to the stars.

"The thing with me is I always long for consistency — for someone to understand me and stay understanding of me forever." He breathes out, voice raw. Did he scream? Was he screaming in those empty spaces you two gave each other? In any of those yells, did he call your name? You think you need to yell at the top of your lungs just to hear a sound louder than your heartbreak. He chuckles before continuing, "And I know that it doesn't exist and it never will. I knew that since childhood, but even if I continue disappointing myself, I never stopped hoping."

His shoulders drop — he feels that weak that time, even his knees buckle down and his eyes sting from holding back tears. "So baby, don't play with me," he whispers, more begging than warning and he falls apart, "I don't need a chase — I need someone to wait for the end with."

There's a whine at the back of your throat, but you settle with looking at his direction with an apologetic call of his name. He doesn't reply.

Mark never knew that he could fall in love with the same person all over again even during a break-up. You're just lovely like that — always dancing in your daydreams while you carry the world on your back. Mark feels his breath catch at his throat, he feels his palms go numb, he feels his heart going haywire and begging him so desperately because no, no, don't let go, please, don't let go! 

"There's a huge difference between how much I love you, and how much I can take." He finally spares you a glance, his everything so spent and lonely and blue in a way that isn't the calm of an ocean. "If you can't love me, then please let me go."

Mark knew your answer when you smiled.

────── ❁ ──────

The trip to the coffee shop was slow and empty and chilly, your hands trembling in need to get a hold of warm coffee and your feet taking little steps to such a familiar place. Honestly, you don't even know why you're letting yourself go there — why do you keep on doing this, torturing yourself? You don't even know — maybe you came here to reminisce the past, hold it close one last time before letting it go. Maybe you're here to remember how Mark was, how he was before he met you — oh, how you wish he didn't meet you. How badly you wish he never did, how you wish he never offered you a seat, his comfort, his love, a place in his heart. How you wish you didn't steal the sparkles in his eyes, and at that very moment, you feel the sudden urge to turn around. 

But you're already pushing the glass door wide open, causing the chimes to make that delightful sound.

"Good...!" the cheery voice fades, a concerned look adorning exhausted eyes, "...evening. The usual?"

You hum, nodding soullessly. The boy — Jeno, quietly works your order until he decides he's had enough of you rubbing your cheeks raw wiping down tears. He sighs and finishes your drink, hands it to you with a sympathizing smile, "Uh, you don't look fine, but are you okay?"

You suppress a giggle and a glare — why does he care? But you're lonely, too lonely, so lonely that you only manage a nod, "Rough time. I wish today didn't happen."

"Oh, but other people had the best day of their lives today. They wouldn't experience that day if today didn't happen," he smiles, flashes of child-like optimism and hopes hinting behind the sleepy glaze in his eyes. "You're on your way to yours."

And while on any other day, his reply would have made you annoyed, you find that he's right, and wish that he indeed is. You feel like it's the only right that didn't go wrong today.

Something warns you that you shouldn't be getting yourself caught in his strings and his ways, but you find yourself straying around his orbit. You were lonely. It was that bad — so bad that you found comfort in everything and everyone and Lee Jeno just happened to be convenient; It's just safe to be around each other, and that's what great friends are supposed to be, right? Jeno doesn't judge and he doesn't pry when you tell him not to push it, and he tries to understand without forcing you to make him if you're not ready. Lee Jeno had a soul like comfort and a smile like a piece of home. You insist that you had no interest in either, but with you so down and him the only thing pulling you up, you couldn't help but let him in.

You think some people are just like that — timeless souls stuck in mortal bodies, liquid gold; glowing and burning and bright and hopeful, stars. They're like stars — human stars.

He's always beside you, you see, Lee Jeno. He answers the dumbest questions and the deeper ones, he stays up listening to your heartaches and struggles. He knows a lot about you — never everything, but they're more than enough — and you know about him, too. It's a dangerous edge you two are leaning far too close to tipping over, and still, your gaze screams life and hope and energy, Jeno thinks he doesn't mind. He remembers earlier memories with him crumbling under your fingertips, tears in his eyes.

"Mark Lee... he's not replaceable and I'm not a replacement..." he shifts his eyes down, can't bring it to him to just look at you without breaking himself. He manages a heartwrenching smile, "but I think I'd rather be a replacement rather than a distraction, darling."

But you looked at him and cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead so mellowly, assuring him that he's neither. The storm in his heart stops and all his insecurities don't matter, and Jeno doesn't think he ever felt this good — so light, so dreamy. Your touch brings comfort, much like lullabies, and after years on insufferable insomnia, Jeno falls asleep.

Your gaze, too. If you continue looking at him that way, he doesn't think he'll mind anything.

"Thanks, Jen. For the coffee," you say with a smile, another night spent with him at the coffee shop. These days, you spend most of your free time waiting for his shift to end, watching him stutter and flush every time he realizes you've been watching him. There's a giddy feeling spreading inside your gut as you continue, "and for staying with me. That was so thoughtful of you — how much lovelier can you be?"

He laughs, shaking his head. He sighs, "Stop it. You're giving me hope."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Oh, but I want to," you quickly roll your eyes, an attempt to faux cool control, your expression immediately shifting to something welcoming and soft just enough that his chest tightens. Jeno feels kind of odd — a good kind of odd, a welcomed sensation. You beam up at him with glassy eyes. Jeno shifts his to his shoelaces.

"Don't do that."

"Jen..."

"I love you," he confesses, shallow breaths coming in quick intervals. The floor seems to sway under his feet and the skies feel like they're swirls of dripping liquid, and it's hard to even breathe, let alone swallow the bitterness of his words, "But I would rather have you not say it back than hear you not mean it."

"I'm... I— Jen," you gasp out, fast to hold his hands to try to keep him down. For a reason or two, you feel like crying. Jeno feels lost. "I'm falling."

But you're not, and you don't know why you said it, but there's a galaxy in his eyes and the universe so beautifully laid down in his mind and he's pulling you close, tears in his eyes, this boy. Lee Jeno who's so in love with you, Lee Jeno who's hopelessly whipped, Lee Jeno — your sweet, sweet boy. You look up to him and shakily whispers, "Please catch me."

Jeno looks at the luminaries and wonders what it would feel like if one day he looks into the very same orbs only to find that the stars have fallen.

The wind blows gently, the coldness of the place prickling his skin, but Jeno doesn't think it's what caused the flush to rise on his cheeks. He stutters, curses a little, says again those little words and dives for a kiss — you feel like it's the best night ever; no nightmare, just pure bliss. 

You blindly walk the path inside your house, dropping your belongings on either of your sides. You try to keep your knees from buckling as you bring yourself to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes. You lean your back to the cold tile walls of your shower, feeling the rush of water that is supposed to drown your thoughts not doing anything to keep them at bay. What have I done?

Loving Jeno is easy, though, far too easy if you may. He's so full of love and in need of affection but never asks for them, and you're more than glad to give all of that to him without words needed. The days with him have been light-hearted, felt deeply nonetheless. In this little world, it's you and him, him and you, no one else. Right? Is that right? Do you promise?

Jeno knocks at your home one day, sullen and lethargic. He spreads his arms out for a hug, one you throw yourself into without hesitation. He leans into the touch, leaning down to burry his head on the crook of your neck, "Thank you, baby."

Your brows draw closer, "For what?"

"You were never mine, but you were always lonely." He suddenly says, He suddenly says, voice fading weak and unstable. There's warm tears dampening your shoulder, and he shakes ever so slightly that you panic and try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he continues, "In my twisted logic, I made myself believe that it's the same."

"What are you saying, Jen?" You laugh, a bit confused and a lot afraid. "I love you."

"No, please, don't say that," his reply baffles you. When he lets you go, Jeno has a certain saddened look in his eyes, and it feels so familiar that you should be numb to it by now. You're not, though, and so you pretend to not know where this all would lead. He pulls you in again and hugs you tighter, "Let me tell you that I love you without you answering back, please."

The boy breathes out shakily, "I want us to have at least one memory that isn't a lie."

And then Lee Jeno says goodbye.

────── ❁ ──────

Park Jisung is the clumsy florist who keeps breaking vases in the flower shop his cousin owns, just several blocks away from the kindergarten both your nephews attended. You meet him one too many times you had to pick the little boy up, and talked to him finally one fine Tuesday when you decided flowers would be nice, out of random. You become friends from then on. 

This thing you have with Jisung is something lovely, child-like, and carefree. It doesn't put any pressure on you — there are expectations, but they're all voiced out and kept healthy. You're friends — great friends, not best friends — whose dynamic is not necessarily convenient. It's safe to say that some people think you have a complicated relationship.

You think, not really. Not to the two of you, at least — Jisung just knows when you're down and in need to be left alone or cuddled, while you know when he needs to cry or if he's pushing himself to his limits. He knows what flower you hold most dear, your treasured scent, your favorite shade of yellow. You know his most loved tracks, the beat he looks the happiest humming to, the color of his dreams. It's much more simple than that — it's just that you two have fun, even with your differences, and when you're together, everything else just fades away.

You just... don't like being alone. Jisung doesn't like not having company — well, there are indeed people he doesn't want to be accompanied by, but he doesn't like being the only one walking alone in crowds of many. He doesn't make your heart skip, not really, instead it's just a warm feeling in your chest, much like home. He doesn't make you nervous — not at all, but he does make you feel safe. Comforted, even. It's the type of love you've always yearned for, the only kind of love he's comfortable with.

"You dance?" Your eyes widen in surprise, dropping your book on the table. Then you smile, "Oh? Aren't you full of surprises?" 

"Mhm, you'll see." He says with embarrassment hinting his voice, but then he stops arranging the flowers and looks at where you're sitting. "You? Aren't you full of surprises, too?"

You pick up your book, a sudden low, shrugging. "It won't be a surprise if I say now, wouldn't it?"

He just shakes his head, tries to lift the vase to the other side and accidentally knocks another one down. You laugh at him, curious at how much control he has over his body that he must be able to dance so fluidly, hit the beat like it's what he's born for, and yet he can't seem to hold a vase and not break it. Jisung giggles, taking it lightly. You wish he didn't. 

The days with Jisung are filled with your favorite bouquets and post-it notes. Each and every day, the words written inside changes from 'You did well', until it develops to 'I hope you smiled today,' 'I wish something good happened today,' and 'You're really, really pretty.' He'd take you to little uphills, asks you to teach him how to make floral crowns from wildflowers, dance with you barefoot under bright daylight. A little summer, a certain person, your most dreaded feeling of having someone mean so much that you let flowers bloom in your chest until it's so hard to breathe and you cough them up.

"My parents asked me to study dance in another country," he mumbles one day, a shaky breath leaving his lips, "Please give me a reason not to go."

"Chase your drive, Sungie," you whisper back. You lean your head further to his chest, safe and warm and fading, "I love you, so choose your dreams over me."

There's the slightest hint of betrayal in his voice, a tinge of rejection in his eyes, "If you love me, why would you make me choose?"

If you love me, why can't you choose me? You selfishly ask, the kid in you whining at the thought of being left alone. The greedy part of you begs to ask him to stay, the needy part of you wants to hug him until he's so full of you that he forgets even the bare thought of wanting anything else. The silent voice inside you, the one that learned and keeps learning, the one that could've saved you so many times if you listened to it, sighs sadly. Don't risk anyone's future for your present, it seems to say.

"Because I love myself too," you look directly to his eyes, cupping his cheeks in between your palms, "and we need to put ourselves before anybody else."

And yet again, you're starstruck by the almost golden swirls in his irises, a peek of his soul. You think his eyes are beautiful — astounding, art worthy, a sight to never get tired of. He thinks they're only beautiful because he's looking at you.

This thing with Jisung isn't something you should've let go. You shouldn't have let him go but you weren't ready and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone who held you so close beautifully. He didn't mean to, though — it was just too hard not to go overboard, and the next thing he knew, he was in love. He didn't mean to, so he walks you home the last night, hand in hand with a certain something hidden underneath his mellow smile. Jisung stands in front of you, waiting for you to open your gates, but you don't move. You stay basking in the tenderness of his gaze.

You think the little problem is that he's even more breathtaking up close and in silence, when the night feels so dead that it thrives — you feel like if you weren't so broken, if you don't keep on seeing another person when you look at him in the eyes, if you let go of the past, Jisung would be everything your heart desired. It just so happened that you two are both too infinite for forever, too broken to fix anything for the latter. Jisung was too charming — his smile was one that doesn't ask for attention but still steals it, never content with just taking your breath away so he takes with him your mind and soul.

You can't handle losing any more of yourself, though, so you smile, "Thank you for waiting."

"I have always been waiting for you," he grins shyly. You make a mental note to remember him like this — dyed locks a mess on top of his head and glasses messily perched on his nose bridge, tall and too pretty to be real, eyes so loving and expressive. There's an obvious sorrow in his voice, "Without fail, consistently, inevitably, forevermore."

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheeks, "Good night, Jisung."

The last note comes in between the pages of your notebook, a pretty pastel purple accompanied by pressed wildflowers. There, in his messy letters and colorful ink, reads a confession:

Maybe I couldn't stop myself from falling because it felt like flying with you.

You shake your head, sigh reading 'I told you not to do that'. Still, you feel a tug at your chest, a link between the two of you in the sense that you seem to be moving in synchrony with these words — Park Jisung is your last love, you swear. You shift your eyes, tired of the same chain all over again, flipping the note to read the words behind them. 

When you find the right love at the wrong time, what will you do to make it work? 

You sigh to yourself as you read the question, tracing the pristine paper with your pen, and finally, finally you smile;

Let it go. Set it free, because the greatest love of all is the one that lets you grow.

You tilt your head up, holding back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. 

────── ❁ ──────

Zhong Chenle invades your life like a hurricane of mixed emotions, a little like three months just in time when you finally decided you've had enough heartbreaks. You meet him from one of your friends, Qian Kun, and literally had to stop and wonder how in the world he managed to find this thing — you can't help it, alright? Chenle just stood silent and proud, clad in leather and rumors and reputations and reeking of expensive. He comes in the scene like thoughts as turbulent as unwanted flashbacks and as easily as finding trouble looking for the right answer when you're in a rush.

Quickly as he entered your life, he became a friend; you're too familiar with this scene, but you've had enough. You can't take any more. You've spent most of your life haunted by sugar smiles and breathy laughs and in exchange, had yourself break everything you wanted to keep intact. It doesn't matter that he's not at all what he's perceived to be, it doesn't matter that he makes your breath hitch. You don't even care what you're going against with, if it's fate or heavenly beings or the world — no more. You can't anymore.

The world is the ocean and the ocean is a God — people are mere sailors who think they're stronger than the tides, but they're not; once the waters have made their decision to kill you, there's no reason you should fear the phenomenons trying to do you harm. It seems like it's made that plan, that thing you hoped so much you wouldn't do. Chenle knows so he smiles at you brightly, "Don't you dare run away from what you're feeling."

"Else what, you gonna run after me?" You bite back just for the sake of it, laughter bubbling from your throat, "Gonna go chase me down?"

He shrugs, taking a challenge and a risk, "You better not regret."

"Absolutely fucking not." Kun hisses after you've told him what happened, months after you've started dating and you're tired of hiding it already. Your friends already tease you about getting together, anyway, so why should you even hide? Apparently, this. The profanities leaving his mouth should worry you, really, but it doesn't; not as much as his disagreement. Still, you couldn't even bother to ask him why because you see it in his eyes — you know him that much, you're familiar with that look — "You're not in love with Chenle, please, we both know this."

"I am in love with him!" You say, hurt. The look in his eyes softens, but the pain of his word doesn't, neither does his determination, "Kun, please. I didn't tell you just so you could lecture me, I told you because you're my friend! I do love him!"

"Are you, really? In love with him, you say? Completely?" Your eyes shift to the side after his statement, the lack of sarcasm and warmth in his tone both bothering you. You want to cry. When you look at Kun, you find he feels just as much. "You're not in love with him in the way he deserves."

There's a dry chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your bag, standing up with a tear slowly rolling down in your cheek. More than devastation, there's a certain withering look in your eyes. Kun tries to apologize, but you're already moving away from him. The betrayal in your voice is impossible to ignore and forget, "How dare you make accusations about how I'm feeling?"

Falling in love with Chenle wasn't in the plan; in fact, you hardly even had any plans to begin with. As another fact, the only plan was to not fall in love with anyone anymore. Plans are ever-changing things, you'd always counter, they depend on the situation. When Chenle came in your life, you figure there happened to be another shift — something significant had changed, a good change.

Maybe it is why you didn't even take Kun seriously. You've always hoped that all those lows would lead to this point, the part where there's content spreading on your chest, a feeling just as bright as the luminescent blanket of embedded diamonds and rubies, a sky full of stars. By your side, the boy looks at you with eyes shining just as much; Zhong Chenle, badly misunderstood, so truly loved. You couldn't help but pull him in a kiss — giggly and messy, chaste and ever so delicate. 

You think you could spend lifetimes just staring at him. You swore on it, really, to not be in love with him. More than anybody else, you hoped to fate that you'll never fall in love again. It's just that this person — Zhong Chenle, he has a tendency to be very addicting, and oh, how easily addicted you are. His kiss a lovely burn against your lips, his words a heavenly whisper to your ear, his existence a delightful surprise. You find it inevitable to fall because of the many similar nights before this, just weeks after you two met. Those days where you two were laughing way too hard for midnight and your heart blossomed with happiness it hasn't felt for long. It's the sweetest kind of doom.

It's doom, nonetheless. 

"With whom was your first relationship with?" Chenle suddenly asks, no hint of jealousy in his eyes, but there is, aside from pure curiosity, something else — lost, baffled, seeking an explanation for something he doesn't even think he should know. "I mean, you're mine. You're my first love, but I know I'm not yours, and I'm curious. "

"You don't even know him, Lele." You laugh, trying to hide your hesitation. The boy insists, says that he just needs a name. You roll your eyes affectionately, "Huang Renjun. He's a great guy, but timing kinda messed up."

Chenle hums appreciatively, but he stops trying to find constellations and making up shapes of his own; instead, he dives in a pool thoughts deeper than the dark. He thinks of what he doesn't know if he believes in, but he keeps his eyes up at the stars and hopes to God that his life wasn't such a movie; he stays quiet.

"Who's Jaemin, then?" The question comes, harmless but shocking nonetheless. Chenle breaks his stare from the dull-starred sky and looks at you with a smile brighter than daylight. His question makes your gut twist. "Jaemin who danced with you under the rain... Jaemin who made your day with corny jokes, with late-night talks, with coffee, with notes."

You don't reply, so he ponders some more. He thinks about walking the streets holding hands, he thinks of cheek kisses. He thinks of waking up tomorrow and doing all of that with you. He looks forward to a couple of years — maybe you'll move in together, maybe you'll share a place and clothes and everything. He thinks of counting down the memories, having lived most of his life satisfied. Chenle thinks of doing it all with you; someone who takes tragedies and turns them into masterpieces. Someone who sings sad songs with a saccharine smile.

"Jaemin with a reputation, known for all the wrong reasons..." his eyes cast down, dull and slowly piecing everything together, "Just like me."

He thinks of a vow, a promise — to the stars, till dawn do us part. He thinks of how near the sun is from rising, and he thinks of silhouette, of being hidden behind one. You don't answer until then, so he just takes it as your reply.

"You don't have to. I already know," he smiles, fingers entwining with yours. "Maybe I just hoped that I didn't have to find out from Kun."

Chenle is innocent, kind of naive. He wears his heart on his sleeves and gifts its pieces to anyone who dares to get to know him. He loves a lot — his friends, his family, stars. A person who grieves the loss of midnight too, when the stars start to fade; you. Because of that, he could forgive anything you did and would do.

It's one of his many ways of love, you see, this thing you have going on. Chenle's just like that — you never know just how much more he can give before he runs out; there's just so much of him and it's difficult to put it into words. He's shown you how he treasures relationships, how he adores everything around him in each and every time a different way and kind. He's shown you so much, all the ways he displays his affection with, this little magic trick. That's not all of it, though, and a little part of you sinks because of the fact that a lifetime will not be sufficient enough for you to know just what this love is, completely, because every passing moment, the boy falls for something; each fondness different from the lasts.

Chenle just loves like that; so much that he doesn't mind being loved for carrying pieces of another person — being adored simply because he made you remember what you didn't want to forget. He thinks, if he doesn't think it matters, it wouldn't; he prays that if he doesn't bring it up, you'd forget. He's loved you for so long but you know so little of his kind of love; ever so pure and limitless, impossible to define and dictate. 

When he holds your hands, though, you feel like it's enough — it's enough to have known slightly more than what you think you should.

"You give too much," are the only words that you were able to form. He looks at you as if to ask if you think so, and you feel the time stop for a bit when he leans his head on your shoulders, his dark locks tickling your skin. You laugh, humorless and sentimental, "Isn't it about time you'd learn to love within limits?"

"You're brilliant, you know?" He mumbles, albeit sleepily. "Kind of infinite. There are no restrictions in the love you deserve."

Something about brilliant just hits so different from beautiful — something so damning and sweet and you feel it again; just how much love you have in you, how much of it you are willing to give. Maybe boundaries really aren't your thing, maybe its the reason why you let Chenle adore you beyond what you know you can take, why you allowed him to give more than he should've given. Maybe it's why you poured affection after affection without conditions — maybe that's why you were selfish enough to love shadows. Maybe it's as most people say — you tend to burn too bright, to share too much of yourself, and not everybody can handle that. You're a bit too much for others. Maybe it's why you find yourself sitting down, pen roughly scribbling on paper.

Somewhere, there's a soul aching for your love... but no matter how much we try, we know it's not here, with me.

────── ❁ ──────

Kun doesn't knock at your door until a few weeks later, and whether it was him giving you space or him not being able to leave Chenle alone, you think of it as a blessing in disguise. It wasn't even after a week or two that you found it in you to get your life together — fake it till you make it, clean up your home, clean up your mess. You greet him with a smile on your face, tears prickling your eyes, "Come in."

Kun doesn't even say anything, he just puts the snacks he bought somewhere and crashes the sofa. He turns off the television, eyes the clearly was-messy place, and huffs at you, "It's just me. You don't have to play cool with me when you're feeling so broken."

"You're acting so much like Kim Dongyoung." You whisper just enough that he could hear before making your way to him and sobbing in his arms. Kun lets you stay like that, his hands threading your hair and affectionately patting your back, a soft 'I told you you're not ready yet' that's less scolding than it is loving. You stop crying then, just miserable sobs and sniffles, and he stands up to get you a cup of water. You look at him.

 "Thank you, Kun."

Suddenly, his not amused expression is back. He moves away a little, placing a strict space in between the two of you, and then directly looks into your eyes, "Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"Were you ever gonna tell me, or was I just supposed to learn about it after you've left?"'

"Kun," you breathe deeply, "I need to."

"For who?" He asks, hoping that amongst the reasons read your name. Are you finally choosing yourself? Is it still because of other people? He wants to ask, but his voice keeps failing him and all he can whisper is words about how he's proud of you, how much you've endured, how badly he wishes to ease the pain. Kun doesn't look at you with disappointment, with hurt; he looks at you with pure utter understanding, and you find it in you, a reason to smile.

────── ❁ ──────

You can't help but reminisce things as you walk from your home to the train station, neither can you when you asked the person in charge for which train will get you out of the place the quickest. You didn't really have plans, you never did, and perhaps that's where everything starts to go wrong; you just forget things, or at least, you try to suppress them. You never tried to solve anything.

This town knew too much — there are memories of Renjun on the trail from here to the benches, flashes of Donghyuck's sly grin meeting your gaze in the reflection of the glass whenever you look at the vending machines. You feel like you've walked every street in here, hand in hand with Mark, like you've danced under all these blinking lights with Jisung, like you've been to everywhere with Chenle. There is so much to remember, and this place can't hold them all and it breaks your heart so much, knowing that many things are meant to be memories, but not all memories should be remembered. You close your eyes in silent hopes that no matter how painful, you never forget one second.

It was impossible, surely, but you think that the thought of being able to recall them completely will be enough to keep you company. Even until now, you don't really want to be alone — some people are just not meant to be by themselves, and sometimes those people aren't really good at settling down either — being one of them, you leap from one crumbling bridge to another, hoping to never feel the pain of a great fall. There was never an end where you didn't. 

Waiting for the train to board, you look back to a certain place in time. The one where you think everything began.

Your first love is something you remember vividly. It came in the form of childhood crushes, wildflowers, and ruined playgrounds. It's a coincidental meeting; you were running away from your house, tired of the yelling and the crashing and the constant fear in your little heart, while he was sneaking away from his house to play more because he's a 'rebel'. Your first heartbreak takes some years forward, years just a little far from now even if it feels like it's been forever standing here, waiting for an uncertain return.

Until now, you think that it was that night under a rusty slide and above dry leaves when your life started to change.

You meet again with Na Jaemin just minutes before your train arrives, a brief eye-contact and a skip of heart and it doesn't take so much for you to know; those eyes, that smile, the red string sitting too tightly on his wrist. You remember what promise that meant — you know that, right? The thing they say about red strings, how they connect people? — and what childish hope that strand held — if we wear this, we would always find our way to each other, because we have a red string connecting us now! You remember, you do, really — of course, you do; how you could you ever forget him? Surely, maybe he's grown a lot, and everything about him has changed, he even dyed his soft hair blue. You're certain, though, you knew that it's him — maybe the red string worked. Maybe it's the butterfly effect and the heartbreaks your heart and several others nursed. Maybe it's the look in his eyes that remained soft and sweet and honest.

You miss your train, but you can't help but feel like you're just in time.

"Jae—" you choke, eyes wide and shocked, "Jaemin!"

────── ❁ ──────

Na Jaemin meets you again on a busy train station, three years ago after he just came back in town for a visit. He remembers the punch in his gut at the sight of your face, the red string delicately wrapped on your wrist, far too small but still so beautiful. He remembers the sullen look on your face, the realization dawning on him that you're late for your class and he chuckles; you never really made it in time for school, even as a child. The rain pours and he has to fiddle his bag for his umbrella, opens it so that he could let you in. When he takes a step closer though, you were talking to another boy, and Jaemin thinks he's the one a little late.

He comes across you a lot of times next to that, too, but never when you're alone. He thinks, his timing is a mildly off as well. Every time he tries to come and talk to you — when you were sitting alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, inside the coffee shop, in front of his niece's kindergarten — there was always somebody else. It reminds him of back then, one of your conflicts as you started to grow up and apart; the many times you needed each other and the other person is too caught up needing someone else. Jaemin thinks that the beat you both are dancing to is a little too delayed.

Jaemin remembers meeting a boy just as blue as him, a face a little familiar, smiling longingly at the two dancing under the moon. He remembers eyes as regretful as his, he remembers a smile, "They look so happy, don't they?"

None of that matters, though, not when he's pulling you into a hug and dragging you to a rooftop, not when you're several floors off the ground and beside you is Na Jaemin, sitting side by side, with eyes that take you back to the past and makes you hope for an unbroken present.

When you two stand under the bright sky and you stare at him instead of gushing about flying, Jaemin realizes just how drastically different this present is. If the look in your eyes says anything, he's certain that you feel the same.

You have just always been waiting for this moment, you know? And you missed your train, but you were just in time to meet Jaemin, and the rush of affection cleared all the lines you had to cross and everything was light and filled with teary laughter before right now. You've had it planned, the both of you, multiple scenarios where you two could meet again — none of them are this way. It's awkward and tense and the other feels so far away; this wasn't how things were supposed to go.

Jaemin could leave. He should leave, he figures, thinking that it's always been what he's best at. It's not working, anyway; maybe it was him being gone and you going through so much, maybe it's life knocking some sense in the both of you, but none of that matters — it's not working. It's just like this, relationships — two people could start at the same point and still go separate ways. It's not meant to be. He could leave, forget, maybe he'd find enough courage that he marks this chapter closed and finally, finally stop thinking of childhood feelings and even the grown-up ones. He could find a new beginning in this chapter closed.

That's the way it goes, anyway, right? Some ends feel like new starting points. Jaemin could drop it here. He could make it easier for himself, he'd be able to say this isn't working and he'd be back to his normal self; the one that looks at you and looks for you in a way that he did before falling in love. He could be young and free, away from untold reasons and unsaid apologies and undelivered feelings. He could make it easier for himself.

But to hell with ease, he didn’t want to.

"Remember, back then, we would always sneak out to play in the rain?" Jaemin is the first to break the silence, "And we look at flowers... you used to cry at everything back then!"

You flick his arm at that, and he sits on the floor next to the railing because he couldn't hold himself up anymore, laughing. Even until now, this still feels like a very vivid dream. You spend the night trying to believe that this is reality — Jaemin does the same.

Fate has a tendency to bring people apart and put them back together again, so you can't really help it that Jaemin was months and weeks away from leaving the town again. There was a point where you cursed time — you just found him, and now, why is he being taken away from you? There was a time where Jaemin thought you weren't meant to be — if you are, then why do you keep on being forced apart?

He thinks he really should stop thinking this way. It's just something really odd, this love stuff, because it's never really just one thing but rather a couple of many nothings to make up an entirely different, supposedly magical occurrence. Love is never just love — it's oftentimes euphoria with even the slightest glimpse of devastation. Jaemin doesn't think he understands why the both of you try so hard to make it easy — no matter how difficult, he knows it's worth it, knows that he'll fight for it.

Jaemin spends his last day in this place smiling, cupping your cheeks as he stands in the middle of a busy train station yet again, this time, with you in his reach. The skies are dark but his smile is bright, and it burns brighter when you flush after asking him why he's staring at you so hard. The boy cooes, "Perfect should try to be you."

"If perfect was me, perfect would be a mess," you quickly counter even through you being too flustered. In your absolute anxiety, you think that everyone is looking and judging you. With the way Jaemin is staring at you, you don't think you'd mind even if they whisper things so mean.

"A lovable mess," he raspily whispers, sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. Jaemin smiles, "I can't make this up. I fall for you several times a day, repeatedly."

Jaemin lets go of your face and dips in to kiss your forehead, and then he giddily messes your hair. You can't even bring it in you to get mad — you have several minutes and you have so much to say and the time is too little, your words are so limited. Jaemin asks for your hands and leaves a red string, identical to the ones you gave each other as children but bigger and adorned with the tiniest butterfly charm. You look at him, confused, "What's this?"

"A farewell gift, and something I'll definitely come back for," he flicks your forehead as if to say it's so obvious, and you can't help but feel like time is running out all over again. You breathe, unsteady and ragged, a desperate call of his name, "Na Jaemin?"

He doesn't answer, but he wipes the tears streaming down your face and he hums.

"I'm so happy that the ending is me and you." You finally confess, taking him aback. You smile, sweet and cruelly beautiful, brutally emotional, and if there were no children around and Jaemin was a tad bit more shameless, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He couldn't, though, so he just gapes and stares and listens.

"I'm so happy that it's back to you."

As the train boards, you find yourself realizing how tough the world gets — the lovely, sinking feeling lingering in your chest as you recall the highs and the lows of life and fate.

You've had far too many great loves in your life, so much that using the term would probably not sound special anymore to other people — but they're different, each one of them, the way they loved distinct at least — and this one, just this one, Na Jaemin, by far, is the greatest.

The end is sweet and lovely, if a bit sour and bitter. The end is where you hopefully find yourself.

────── ❁ ──────

"Mom and dad keeps on fighting. " your nephew murmurs under his breath, one sunny Friday spent walking on streets that are cooling down, on the way to what must be the happiest place on Earth for a kid. "Do you think they don't love each other anymore?"

You nervously scratch your nape, thinking of easy ways to reply to the question. You think of your childhood, how you spent most of it dreaming of love. How until today, the thought of it still haunts you. You just shrug, "People just have some bad days, but look, they're still together, right?" he nods, and you feel a blossom of proudness in your chest, "They love each other, and that's why they had you."

The kid suddenly frowns, "Why do people get together, then?"

You halt your steps before continuing, on the verge of asking why he asked that question before you realize that it's your nephew, anyway. He loves holding mature conversations even if he doesn't understand anything, he likes asking away and being taken seriously, like an adult. You chuckle, "Uhm, because people make each other happy!"

"Why don't you have someone, then?" You don't know how to answer his question, and neither did you expect it. He looks too interested to be brushed off. "You said people make other people happy!"

"Hm, well, I do have someone," you think of sugar smiles and giggly kisses as you say those words. There's a comforted exhale leaving your lips as you look down on the kid, "But, he's not the only reason I'm happy... I'm happy with myself, without him."

"Do you not love him, then? Because you're happy without him?"

"I love him, I do, a lot! We went through a lot to find each other again," you smile kindly, patient. "But it's a different kind of love, just like how it is a different kind of happy with him."

His lips jut out, wondering about things not so completely disconnected from his first questions. He then sighs as if he's carrying the weight of the world, "If you had to find each other again, it means one of you left. Why did one of you leave if you love each other, then?"

Why?

"Well, you see, maybe..." there's no answer pouring from your lips, but emotions threaten to spill from your eyes and then down your cheeks. The child won't understand your tears, though, so you think of familiar faces and the one you entwined your fingers with, like home. You keep your head held high. "Maybe it's so that we could find each other again in a time where we would be better versions of ourselves."

It's not enough to sate his curious mind. "But if he's almost always never here, how are you supposed to know if he's the love you're supposed to have, then?"

"The love I'm meant to find has always been here, within me," you say genuinely, and the child, ever so confused but curious, remains silent to understand. You shake your head a bit, "but with him, this love grows bigger and bigger, and it helps us cross any kind of distance between us."

Finally satisfied, he stops asking questions at the sight of his most favorite place, muttering incomprehensible gibberish as he tugs you closer to the entrance. Then you think of how happy you are to be standing under this sky, above this ground — you think of the butterfly effect, all the little moments and major events, and everything that passed and will forever remain remembered. You think of all that lead you to this.

You look at the reflection of yourself from the glass walls of the candy shop, and you couldn't help a smile. The look in your eyes screams dreamy as you push open the door. This is it — you're on the way to loving yourself. 

Welcome home.

[meenah-chan]

Requested by: @zimelu-eloni-nova-lycan (hope you see this since I can't tag you ಥ‿ಥ)

My apologies in advance if Malleus is OOC. Other than wanting to play TW and doing a bit of research of him, I know nothing 😂 I never thought of taking requests coz I'm a slow writer but it was quite interesting so I did it anyways. (And took daaays to finish 😂)

To Thine Own Self Be True

An OM! Brothers x GN! Dark Fae MC (slight OM! X Twisted Wonderland crossover)

5.47k words

Genre: flangst

Trigger warnings: self harm, violence, self depreciation? (cringe jk) Read at your own discretion.

"You're an incomplete puzzle... I hope you find your missing pieces." And thus, they were sent to someplace they didn't know...

They... have always been alone. But Y/N is not lonely. They have Malleus, a powerful yet caring brother. They have their grandmother, that even as busy as she is, tries to show her love as much as possible.

They are the only one they need. As long as they have them, they needn't anything else. Or atleast they think so.

"As a part of royal family, you have to broaden your horizon." But they think otherwise.

Before Malleus' departure for Night Raven College, he left Y/N a word, "You're an incomplete puzzle, Y/N. I hope you find your missing pieces." and that was months ago, and they were still confused by it.

Incomplete puzzle... It doesn't feel like they are. They are content of what they have. They capable of doing most tasks perfectly. They fulfill their responsibilities impeccably. It's not like they can't live on their own either. Having no friends and acquaintances but they're two family members is also fine. They don't need any more. No one who could stand their presence anyways.

The intimidating dark energy far more destructive than a fae possessed, in which Y/N could never control. Those menacing, sharp green eyes. Their skin as pale as the dead corpse, and lips charred black. But most of all, those pair of disgustingly sharp, black horns that keeps on growing back no matter how hard they try to get rid of it.

Y/N is the epitome of fear. They knew it more than anyone. If they were to be reckoned that way, it is better to maintain distance from everyone.

But I should fulfill my duty, atleast. They thought, fortifying their resolve as they stood before the future King of Devildom and his butler. "Welcome to Devildom, Y/N Draconia."

"It's an honor to be of your acquaintance, Prince Diavolo." Placing a palm on their chest, Y/N bowed.

As per the two Kingdom's agreement, they were to live in a safe place different from a lavish lifestyle they have been used to inside their gold plated walls. And thus they were led by the Future king's shadow, Barbatos, to their new home. The House of Lamentation.

House of Lamentation. What a gloomy and dreadful place, befitting a sinister being like me. they scoff.

But the sight the dark fae witnessed within that walls was not within their expectations.

"Beel! Don't eat the my wallet! H–Hey, I said let go! My goldie'll snap! B–Belphie, help me!" A white-haired man is pulling a leather wallet from the teeth of a bulky orange-haired one.

"Smells chicken mushroom oil." While the orange head kept their teeth sunk into the wallet almost ripped into two. "It's just a drop, stop going crazy over it!"

"Belphie, wake up! You promised you'll help me with clearing dungeons today! The raid will start anytime now!!" A violet haired male violently shakes an asleep man in blue but the man is far from dazed at all.

"Hrmm... Five more minutes—" "We have no more time!! I can't play with a missing player!"

A feminine faced guy appeared right in front of them, instantly invading their comfort zone and kept locking eyes with them. "Ohh? Who is this with you Barbatos? Ahh, The one moving in! You're quite early, darling. Ignore those bunch in the back and play with me?"

"Behave, you fools!!" A booming voice reverberates and in an instant, the rowdy bunch is silenced. "Such a disgrace..."

Except for one, who didn't make any ruckus until that very moment.

A bucket came flitting up in the air and in the next second, all of its contents all poured on the man who controlled the ruckus a while ago.

"SAAAAATAN!!" It was an utter chaos. This place far from the gloomy place they have in their imagination. It is filled with rabid demons that could obliterate them were they to join forces, and now Y/N have to adjust in this new environment.

"I see it's not a great time to introduce myself." Said Y/N, yet the only one who probably heard them is the butler beside them. "If you'll excuse me, I would like to know where my room is."

"As you wish, your Excellency. Allow me to lead you the way." The butler responded to them. They left the common room, where the rowdy ones moments ago, were trying to suppress the supposedly-most decent of the seven, from destroying the mansion.

Y/N usually do not receive a normal greetings on the events they've been into or more like, forced to come by either their grandmother or by Malleus. It could be the fairies either— gives them space with no one dare shorten the distance; reluctantly greet them before leaving them as fast as they could or; flat out ignore them.

Yet so far, the experience I have today is by all odds, the most insulting way I have ever been greeted. Y/N clasps their trembling hands as they sat on the bed.

I wish this will end sooner. This will be a hell for me...

Almost everyday is a crazy, eventful day. Far different than their everyday life in the Valley of Thorns, their homeland. First impression doesn't really matter to Y/N, but for some reason, they couldn't stand them since day 1. Sure, they haven't done anymore distasteful things like the rude way of welcoming them. Still, the members of the family are crazily weird in their own ways. And they hate it.

Lucifer is the eldest of the brothers. The one who leads the brothers and manage everything in place.

"As your family have wished, you were to live differently than you have thus far. So I won't exempt you with the cooking and housework."

"As a part of Royal family, I expect great things from you. I won't tolerate screw ups."

"Remember to complete your tasks. I am assigned by Diavolo to take care of you, so I will check on your activities throughout your stay here." He is an ass. A bossy and dominating dictator who think he could order a royalty like them.

But one time, when they entered his study, they saw a scene they never thought they'll ever perceive.

*Tak* A fountain pen falling from his gripless hand.

He was splayed on his desk filled with tall stacks of paper, out cold. Y/N didn't know they would witness such vulnerable side of such condescending demon.

So they chose to put off their business for tomorrow, placing his coat over him and letting him rest.

But the event didn't occur only once. Atleast twice a week of exact time before midnight, he's always been unconscious on his desk. That's when Y/N realized: he is not strict and short tempered for no reason.

As the eldest, he took it to himself to be the father figure to the brothers, all while perfectly doing his job as Diavolo's right-hand man. He fulfills his job with perfection. But perfection doesn't come without hardwork nor sacrifices. For the sake of his great responsibility he sacrifice himself, working so hard until he drop on his desk.

With thoughts of him made Y/N ponder over something.

Does having a father feels like having a Lucifer in my life? Maybe it is, they never knew since they never remember their's. He isn't as bad as they thought he were if they think it that way. That is praiseworthy, as they think so themself and deserve some respect.

No more stern expressions whenever speaking to him. Being more compliant if his instruction is reasonable. Thanking him even for a simple thing he does for them.

Soon, they noticed he doesn't nitpick them either and praise them for every job well done. The dark fae may still be annoyed with him but that's not a bad outcome at all.

And then there's Mammon, the second eldest, who is supposed to assist the eldest.

"Ye're a royalty right? So ye're loaded. I'm in a pinch right now so let me borrow from you." He leans on their shoulder, with his smug grin.

"Don't listen to that fool. It's past 200 years and he still haven't paid his debts to me yet."

"Shut up, you otaku!"

Behind violet-haired appears the black haired demon. "MAMMON..."

"EEK— W–Wait!! Lucifer, this is not wha–ACK—!!" Mammon is a scum. A rude demon who could care less of his words and language. Trouble is where he is. Even so, in his tough exterior, Y/N took note of a soft side.

Y/N saw him one time, poking at the mopping otaku demon outside his room. "Yo Levi. What you doin' there?"

"Just let me be... I lose my raid last time because I couldn't play... Now I can't even bear looking at my PC... No one would want to play to a no-show gamer like me..."

"Hmm... Then, it can't be helped. C'mon, your big brother Mammon will play with you!"

"R–Really..?"

"Yeah, Yeah. Let's play to your heart's content" He pulled him up and push him inside his room.

Consoling a sad brother, lending a helping hand when they need it. He may not look like it, but Mammon is also taking good care of his brothers. All the emotional support Lucifer fails to give his brothers, Mammon provides.

So before Mammon entered the room, the dark fae decided to tap his shoulder, earning his attention. "You really love your brothers."

"W–Wha... Where does... who loves—"

"That's really admirable." They promptly reach out a bottle of a jet-black faerie dust only they could concoct. Mammon gingerly took it from them and scanned the inside. "That may help you settle some of your debts. Then..." After giving the bottle, they went on their way.

"AAAAHHHH!! THIS IS ULTRA RARE!" As expected to a man who could appraise goods.

They remember Malleus from his caring side, they couldn't help but smile and commend the yellow demon. I miss my brother...

Leviathan on the other hand, has a different case. He is the third-born of that household. A timid person... At first glance, atleast.

They just can't understand him. He spoke in language they couldn't wrap their head around like, "LOL! ROFLMAO!", "Tss, normie..."

It is tolerable, at least. What they can't tolerate is the fact that,

"UUWAAH!! MY RURI-CHAN LIMITED EDITION COBALT PIN AND FIGURINE IS HERE!!" He is, by far, the loudest. His sudden and unexpected outbursts kept on triggering every jumpy cells in their system.

Leviathan is too hyped he seemed to enter his own dimension. He skipped through the corridor, he sung a Ruri-whatever song that is, until, "Ahh—" he made a misstep in the stairs, a few steps away from them.

Y/N dashed and caught them barely in time, with firm hold between his shoulder blades and another to his package, which should be flying right now but was pressed secured to his chest.

"You should be more careful or you'll hurt yourself. Your treasured package almost fell." They sighed.

"... An angel has descended." He stared at them in awe. As he move his hand to the box, he touched their hand. That's when their position fianally sinks in to him. His face flared beet red and in a few seconds blew a fuse, passing out right on the spot.

"... What a troublesome demon..." With no other choice but to bring him themself, he carried the unconscious Leviathan up to their room. After opening the door, what welcomed them is a messy room.

No, not messy. The room is filled with items and materials of all sorts. Tons of CDs, figurines and posters on shelves and walls. Stuff toys and pillows of all shapes and sizes. Hanged intricate costumes and clothes, which in just a glance, they knew is made with effort. Even pins, threads and needle atop a... Sewing machine? Did he made all of this?

Y/N took another glance on the other side of the room. There he saw three monitors with various programs registered. A game, video editor and a Photoshop... I wonder what else can this man do?

Is this what they call a hobby? Such passion and dedication in pursuit of doing what he loves... An unfamiliar feeling for this dark fae.

They... can't really understand this man. Not at all... But I can now see him in another light, I guess...

The one who sought Y/N first were Beelzebub, the sixth-born. A bulky, tall demon who loves to eat. They were having a snack on the balcony when the older twin sniffs his way in. Such action that freaked the dark fae out internally, considering the sight they witnessed when they first moved in. The fact that they saw a few times 'accidentally' eating inedible things doesn't helped at all either.

"I followed the smell from the kitchen. Your cake smells delicious!" The drooling giant stood by them, and they couldn't take another sip from their tea.

"Hmm... Help yourself." Or you may help yourself with my flesh if I didn't satisfy your hunger.

"Really?!" He sat oposite to them and within minutes, all the plates on the table were wiped clean. "That was delicious!... Ahh that's right. Y/N, why aren't you eating with us during meals?"

"I'm used to eating by myself."

"But why? Eating with someone make the food taste better." Y/N doubt that'll be the case if that someone is him, who could definitely eat them if his appetite cries its needs.

Beelzebub touched his chin, thinking. "Hmm... How about I eat with you during snacks time? I'll bring food you'll definitely like!"

"Ah—" And they lost their timing. His eyes sparkles like stars and the pure happiness in his voice made it impossible for them to refuse. They wouldn't know what he could do were they to decline what he desire.

Since then he would appear without fail during Y/N's snack time, sharing both of their food with each other.

They tried to slowly end such dangerous activity yet, the enthusiasm in his eyes whenever he eat held them back. In the end, Y/N conceded, increasing their baked goods everyday to sate the needs of the ball of sunshine before them– who could bring warmth or burn them. As a response he will also eat it all like it's his first time eating their goods.

He is a man of few words yet, also quite easy to read, especially when eating the sweets they made themself. A straight forward person who means just as he say.

He would even sometimes bring his other twin, who will eat a few bites before snoozing.

"Beel really likes you, you know..." They glanced from their teacup to the youngest, seating beside them as the gobbling twin is busy with his food.

Belphegor stares in an ever-drowsy eyes. He is the man they least interacted with. How can they? Whenever they see him, he is always asleep. And it's not like Y/N is interested in communicating with him or anyone at all. "He even does his research for everything he brings you here. I don't know if you knew, but he really want to convince you to eat meals with everyone."

"...Ehh? Why? We're not even..." Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"Because he loves everything you make. He wants to talk to you ever since the first time you cook, but you're too antisocial to even eat with us."

"Says the demon who is always sleeping whenever I see him." Y/N snorts before taking a bite from the cupcake Beel brought. Hmm... this is good...

"...You, are you getting enough sleep?" Belphegor peers at their face.

"...None of your business."

"Whatever..." He frowns before burrying his face on his pillow.

What a keen observant. Y/N thought.

They've also been observing him since the first day. They share a lot of classes together and the dark fae knew, he is someone who rarely attend his classes, and whenever he does, he is always asleep. They also never saw him hold a book, much more read it. Yet, when they have exams, he finishes halfway the alloted time, almost the same time as them and sleeps after. The worst thing is that he could pass them easily.

He... is a dormant monstrosity. They conclude as they unlock the door to their room the day after. But before they do so, they noticed something.

Beside the door is an unfamiliar paper bag and inside... is a pillow, a bit caved it to the top center—similar to the one they use back to their home to be able to sleep well. It also comes with a note:

'The caneles and the stew is passable. You can throw away the pillow if you don't want it. Just know that it took me a great deal of effort to buy that.'

Really, what a frightening observant.

And there is Satan, the fourth-born, a pretty decent guy who craves for nothing but knowledge. If Y/N may say, he is the one they spend the most time with, though it's not that much.

"What are you reading?" Voicing not a word, they faced him the book cover.

"L’intelletto e Il Cuore... Hmm, that's a good choice." With at least 3 meters away from him, and few to no words exchange between them inside the library, it's not really that much.

He is a rational and intelligent man who respects personal space. Though, from time to time he would snicker eerily between the silence they have, holding either a cursed or homicide book. Creepy.

"What did you say...? The books you borrowed from me... Fell in the river? And it was washed away...?" And when he is angry, all his rationality is thrown out of the window.

"I–I will replace it I promise–" Pleads the peach-haired demon, kneeling before him.

"Replace, you say...? Didn't you know they were a Century membership gift to me from the Bibliomagicus Guild? Do you think that's replaceable...? Ha... Haha...HAHAHAHA!! THEN WHY DON'T YOU REPLACE THEM WITH YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE, HUH?!"

His wrath makes Y/N tremble, like all the bookshelves and books present in the library. Right, the books, the bookshelves. He'll destroy everything if this continues.

"Somnus Enim a Dum." So in a snap they cast a spell, amplified by their own dark pixie dust, and render him unconscious.

"Y/N!" That night he showed up in the library, frantically and still disheveled clothes and hair.

"Thank you. I don't know what would've happen if you're not there. And I also apologize you get to see that side of me." It's the first time they ever saw him smile without looking at the book. A smile similar to their brother.

"You're weird. You got so angry because of books that you'll ruin all the other irreplaceable books here."

"..."

"Don't mind it. I'd feel bad if the books are ruined."

"...Right." He chuckled, brushing his hair with his fingers and fixing his clothes to place. He then picked up the book he's reading, pulling the other sofa to sit beside them.

Now that's annoying. Nevertheless they let him. For they're a mere guest.

The fifth-born, Asmodeus, is not a problem back then. Having only a few occasional invitations for salon and parties, they could decline politely. But after the book incident, everything about his approach changes.

Since then, there was Asmodeus, everywhere!

In the classroom, in the library, in the music room, in the planetarium, in the balcony, in the bed, even the bathroom! He won't give them a break!

"Y/N~ I noticed you're always with Satan in the library. Are you getting along well? Beel too, you always bake and eat with him. That's so unfair! And you invite Belphie without me? Don't tell me you already like one of them?"

"If you'll choose one of us, shouldn't you choose me, the most beautiful demon of them all? I swear I can love you thousandfold than any of them, but... of course you can only be my second~~"

"What's with you and Lucifer? You always went to him every night. Is it a nightly endeavor? Hey~? Y/N, don't ignore me~!" He is a complete chatterbox. A motormouthed demon who don't know when to shut up.

But being with him comes with a few merits. Despite not looking like it, Asmodeus is a real gentleman. He maybe not as keen as Belphegor's capability to observe, but Asmodeus is an attentive and thoughtful demon. He does his everything to provide every small help he could give to them.

Whilst not needing help, it's much better than him being a clingy, dead weight. Y/N tries to look at the bright side.

"But this is tiring..." Y/N sighed, closing the book they are holding.

"Are you tired of reading? C'mon, let's go out and breathe fresh air!" I'm tired of you, you idiot.

"If you want to go out, you can go." The dark fae massaged their temple. It's been throbbing from time to time after that incident with Satan and Asmodeus bugged them.

"No! You've always been cooping yourself here or your room since coming here. You have to go out from time to time or you'll wither away!"

"You're so noisy Asmo. Y/N said they don't want to go." Asmodeus pout at Satan sitting beside Y/N, before pulling the dark fae out of the library and House of Lamentation.

"I'm telling you, I don't need this." Asmodeus holds 5 hangers of clothes, pondering which one fit them best.

"But~ It's such a waste for a beautiful person like you if you don't try dolling yourself up..." They stare at Asmodeus as if he just said the most ridiculous thing he could ever say.

"Don't tell me..." Asmodeus stared at them in disbelief, gasping dramatically like he always does,t "Y/N, YOU'RE GORGEOUS! DON'T EVER THINK YOU'RE NOT! YOU'RE A DROP DEAD BEAUTY AND—" They covered his lips before he could even shout louder in such a public place.

He then pulled their hands off after a few moments. "And look! A bit of blush suits you! And black lipstick—" Y/N let him dressed them up— in exchange of shutting up. He chose meticulously, accenting every parts that they consider an abomination. A dizzying position they were in.

But the real deal has yet to come. What's worse than being bothered by a bug? More bugs...

"Asmo, are you nuts! You're hogging them all to yourself!" Mammon barged in their room as Asmo is applying makeup to them who gave up on him for a while now.

"Y/N couldn't come to our snack time because of you." Beel and Belphegor followed close behind, clearly unamused of Asmo's action.

"I haven't even got a chance to introduce them to the wonders of anime and games!" So do is Leviathan.

"They prefer reading in the library more, right Y/N?" Satan rest his back on the door frame, crossed arms.

"Excuse me? If I may say, Satan, Beel and Belphie are the one who took their time more than I!"

"YOU—" And their greatest fear since living in Devildom occurs. All hell broke loose. An all out brawl of the short tempered demons before them with all the six brothers, a thread away from transforming and blasting everything they touch. No... That's not it. Without transforming, they're already smashing everything into pieces.

The dressers. The desk. The chairs and mirrors. Everything but the bed they are sitting on.

"WHAT'S HAPPENING HERE!" The last and the strongest of the brothers made his appearance, yelling in his most intimidating voice.

And they...finally snapped.

"Each and everyone of you... GET. OUT!!!" Such horror reflected on their eyes, with their whole being trembling uncontrollably. Tears poured down one after another. All of the emotions the brothers have never seen them make all spilled before them. As if a predator threatened to the end of their life.

On their hands...

were horns severed from their own head. The seven demons were so taken aback their bodies moved on their own to comply to Y/N's order... or more like, plead.

And the doors were completely closed.

They never left their ransacked room. They wouldn't open their doors to anything. No food, gifts nor even apologies. All but the brothers' words received a single response: "Malleus... I want my brother."

Hence the brothers and future king have no choice but to call him as soon as possible, or they will perish inside such place, alone like they've always been.

"Thank you for taking good care of my sibling. I hope you will continue so in the future."

"We also hoped we could. Yet considering the circumstances, I doubt they would want to stay here a second longer."

"Let—" but before Malleus could even finished his sentence, Y/N came flying down on him.

The distressed fae buried their face in their safe haven's chest. He then proceed carrying them in his arms, assuring them they are safe.

Lucifer led them to the music room, giving them privacy in their conversation.

"You've become so light, Y/N. And what happened to your horns?"

"...I wanna go home."

"Why? Do you hate this place?"

"I'm scared of them since the first day."

"That's understandable... But is that all?" Y/N stare at him in disbelief, while Malleus smiling softly at them.

"...Then what else... should I feel? I know I'm a monster... But that doesn't mean I could live with such monstrous demons! I'm just a monster with a weak heart!"

"Then you can blame it all on me. I'm the one who chose this place for you after all." All words were blown off Y/N's mind. The furrow between their eyebrows disappears as their face relaxes.

"Brother... But why?"

"I want you to realize your own self."

"..."

"Now answer me. You said you're scared of them, but do you hate them? Do you want to leave this place so badly? Is that really everything you've felt in this place?"

"Of course! I... I..." Y/N already knew the answer to his question, way before he even asked.

"They were annoying, noisy and self-centered bunch who does things as they pleased. They keep dragging me on their antics, I never had a peace of mind... I hated it, I despise it. I..." They bit their lips.

"I felt so frustrated! Why do they look so lively and happy despite being so unruly? They're always on each others neck yet they were having fun? Why?! And hobbies? How can they have such thing? I have nothing of sort! I just wake up day after day, desperately searching for something and fill this empty void inside me!"

"I fulfill my responsibilities without fail, on what cause? I have no purpose! Seeing that demons made me feel so miserable with my existence!"

They looked on their lap, holding back the tears on verge of falling. "What do they have that I don't? They're also the strongest, incredibly so that even I shook when they unleash their power! So why aren't they isolated like I am? How can they live a normal life unlike me?!"

"I think you already know the answer."

"...Because... They rely on each other. I never relied on anyone nor let anyone rely on me..." Malleus' smile widens when they hit the nail on the head.

"You're a strong person, Y/N. You won't even depend on us, not until today. You're capable of anything. You're just afraid of any more rejection, of being left behind." He paused and lift their face to meet his eyes, "Diavolo and others explained to me what happened. They said the incident frightened you. Yet knowing you, I doubt it is fear. Will you tell me why you blew off?"

"...I was overwhelmed. They were fighting over me. It never happened to me before so don't know what to feel. The attention was too much that I hated it. And I don't know how to respond to them..."

"So you brushed them off and isolated yourself." They nod weakly.

"And you snapped your horns to show them you're not who they think you are; to scare them off."

"Something like that..." Malleus smiled at them as he pet their head. "See? It's not bad being honest to yourself. Do you still want to leave, now that you let it all off your chest?"

Y/N shooked their head. "I want to stay."

"My Y/N is amazing... To surpass all the beings who estranged them. You're all grown up now." He held them in his arms, Y/N nuzzling onto his chest.

"Come on, they've been waiting for you for the longest time. You know what to do, right?"

"Yes." They left the room, Y/N clinging to him like never before. As childish as it seems, Malleus knew they grew a lot in just a few months of living in Devildom. It is indeed a great decision to choose the brothers to take care of them. They were no longer the incomplete puzzle he saw before he left for his studies.

"Y–Y/N..." Waiting in the common room are the seven brothers with Diavolo and Barbatos.

"W–We understand if you really want to l–leave." Mammon looked down as he clenched his fist.

"It was our fault." Leviathan followed.

"We've been insensitive, pressuring you despite knowing you're not accustomed interacting with a lot of people." Satan said with a serious frown.

"We even destroyed your belongings." Asmodeus glanced away, holding onto Satan's jacket.

"We'll make it up to you in any form."

"Y/N, sorry." Belphegor and Beel voiced respectively.

"It was due to my negligence you have to experience such incident. I also want to apologize." Lucifer held his palm to his chest for a slight bow.

"N–No!" Y/N strongly shook their head, "I should be the one to apologize! I'm so sorry!!" before bowing deeply.

"Y/N!? No, please raise your head—" Diavolo held Lucifer's shoulder to stop him like Malleus cued to let his sibling continue.

"It was all my fault! I've been a coward all this time. I was wrong for trying to push you all away when you don't mean harm. It was all my fault for venting all my frustrations to you. Please, if you would still allow it, I want to stay a bit longer."

"Y/N you are more than welcome here so please raise your head now. We don't deserve your apologies." Satan was the first one who walked towards them to raise their head.

"Y/N?!!" But as he did so, a crying Y/N appears in the brothers' view.

"This is the first time I will ever ask someone but," they sob and sniff, "will you guys be my friends?"

"Y–Yes, so please stop crying!" As conflicted as the brothers are, being asked such question that could hinder their future plans with them, they were forced to agree to their wish instantly.

Let's leave it for another day... The same phrase runs in the thoughts of the brothers, a very rare occurence to happen once in a millenium.

With Asmodeus' lead—he, Mammon, Leviathan, and Beel wrapped their arms around them to console the crying faerie. Lucifer, Satan and Belphegor stood a feet away from them, watching the five in the middle.

As things calms down, they decided to sit on the same dinner table for the very first time. Food were served by Barbatos, who prepares who knows when. He could actually have predicted such outcome for all they know.

The place were so warm, and lively. "This tastes wonderful." That's an understatement. The food have the richest taste than everything Y/N ate in their entire life. "You're right, Beel. Food were best eaten with someone." Beel have them a toothy grin. "I'm glad you get me."

After the meal, Y/N fell asleep on the spot. "Hehe, they're so carefree now." Belphegor played with their fringe. They didn't woke them up and instead carry them in a new room, letting them have the deep sleep they couldn't have for days.

"Congratulations, for being Y/N's first friends. I'll leave them in your care." Malleus bid his farewell to everyone, not bothering of waiting for Y/N to wake up. "I also hope this incident will be the last one."

"Yes, we won't let such thing happen again, and ensure a comfortable life for Y/N throughout their stay here." Diavolo answers in stead of everyone. The brothers are not in the shape to reply as they absorb Malleus' first sentence.

First friend. Such a bitter-sweet word. Whether the word stings them or not, it doesn't matter. It won't stop the brothers from trying to achieve the same goal as subtle as possible.

And so, a not-so-obvious scramble goes on.

This took longer than I expect 🤣😂 In all honesty, it was quite challenging, making a blatant All Brothers x MC. I also don't have a plot and flow until I actually wrote it sksksk dunno if that's a good or bad thing 😂🤣 and this was the longest one I wrote for the past half a year.

Masterlist

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Word Of Your Body Duet (Roland x Rin Davies)

Andante, Andante

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: angst, bit of fluff mixed in with smut, one outdated word,

A/N: Everyone has their secrets, but sometimes we need someone to share them with. Roland just chooses his last night to let Rin in on his. This is a follow-up to Songbird

Roland sat on the edge of Rin's bed while she paced back and forth anxiously in front of him. Since he came over earlier in the evening, they only managed to kiss until their lips swelled. Rin had taken her gloves off, but refused to touch Roland anywhere with bare skin.

“I don't understand. You said I do nothing to ye?”

“You-you don't,” Rin stuttered. “At least not normally. This isn’t normal, Roland. We've known each other for over a year, and until yesterday neither of us have given any inkling that we are attracted to each other. I mean who wouldn't be attracted to you? Look at you, you're terribly handsome.”

Roland cocked an eyebrow, “Handsome in a terrible way. I'll admit t’the terrible part. I can be a bit..”

“Of a twat?”

“Much. It's the handsome part I don't know I’d agree with. There's not exactly a line around the block.”

“I just don't like surprises. I've had things happen.. To me. I can't take that again.”

Roland reached out and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of Rin’s jeans. He drew her down into his lap, his arms held her in place.

“First you’re giving me motion sickness watching all that back and forth. Second will ye just bloody touch me?! Anywhere, you'll see something I've never told anyone at this school. Not that I have friends besides you.”

Rin’s heart fell. That really couldn't be the truth? Roland wasn't all that bad, he was just a little.. blunt. Not that she had friends, present company aside. It was difficult for Rin to get close with anyone in case their true personalities showed through. She had a knack for telling people their feelings before they were even ready.

“What if I don't like what I see?”

“It's nothing that salacious. Just a wee bit I suppose,” there was a shrug in his shoulder. “If ye don't like it, ye never have t’see me again.”

“Why do you keep saying that like another semester won't roll around?”

“I'm moving to Perth,” he said matter of fact.

“AUSTRALIA?!” Rin was gobsmacked.

“Jupiter!” Roland gave a mock surprised face that teased the girl on his lap.

Rin shoved Roland somewhere between serious and playful. “Oh don't be a bastard!”

“I can't be one! My parents were married!” his brows furrowed in fake consternation. “As far as I know at least?” He stroked his chin in deep thought.

“Can you ever talk without sarcasm or snark?!”

“I'm like Tinkerbell, but I must be acerbic to live!”

Rin’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head. The banter was so natural between them. In that weird way you never notice how much you want or need someone until they won't be there tomorrow. She became instantly pained. Rin had never felt as at-ease with anyone, sharing her secrets and her songs as openly as she did with Roland.

Now her voice was soft and sad, “What's in Oz you can't find here?”

“They offered me a place at their sister conservancy. I've got family over there too. What's left of them.”

Roland nudged his nose against Rin’s. He nuzzled downwards and along her cheek. Taking a chance in kissing her once more where his nose had been. He let his lips linger on her skin, so she knew he would be an open book if she wanted. Even if it was just a day or so before he left her.

Rin draped her arms around Roland’s shoulders before kissing him again. There was a heat, that taste of smoke. Of trailers and RVs all parked together around campfires and music. Then a spice of peppers as his tongue overpowered hers. His kisses taste like Travellers, once called Gypsy.

Roland’s mouth was hungry for her as he awkwardly reached for the hem of her shirt. Desperate to feel Rin, she could tell. All of her. There was nothing sinister about his intentions. Just fiddles and drums and whiskey.

In a blur of laughter and limbs, Rin and Roland clambered to their feet to strip down to their underwear. She flattened her scarred hands on his chest. For someone who could see into someone's mind or emotions, how did Rin miss his olive skin? Those subtle differences that would've given him such grief if others knew.

Rin said it out loud in the sudden quiet. only Roland’s wild heartbeat under her fingers and heavy breath that builds. “You're a gypsy.”

Her eyes focused on his body. An ache between her thighs as she glanced down at the erection inside of his boxers. He wasn't embarrassed. In fact, he was quite confident for Roland at this moment.

Roland’s hands were in Rin’s hair. Entangled so that they tugged her head upwards with a pleasurable pain. She was forced to meet his eyes as he leaned down to mesh his mouth with hers again. His tongue darted in swiftly before she reciprocated. He let his hands stray down over her body to the hook of her bra where he fumbled but only briefly before it came free.

“Not anymore,” Roland’s voice thick.

“I'm sorry. Traveller?” Rin was apologetic.

Her hips involuntarily pushed into his as she lightly brushed her fingers down his body. They traced around his waist to the small of his back. That dip just above the band of his boxers.

“No, I mean I'm not a Traveller or a gypsy anymore. Best assimilate with the other gorja. Being “normal” has made everything easier.”

There was a sadness now in Roland's flesh. It flowed just underneath the surface as Rin embraced him. Her experience with tents and churches and people “speaking in tongues” as her parents forced her to perform “miracles” on blind faith punters bubbled over her surface and spread to Roland’s.

“Wren. It wasn't like that. I'm sad because I miss them. I'm ashamed of turning my back on the people who raised me. That's where I fell in love with music. C’mon you’re ruining our last night!”

Roland let go and laid on the bed with his back to the wall. He propped himself up on his elbow and tapped the bed a few times. “Let me take care of you?” An eyebrow arched suggestively.

“You know what you're doing?”

Still, Rin laid down beside Roland on her back. He bent forward with a hand on her neck and pecked her lips softly. Once. Twice, before she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue. They mingled and danced with each other as Rin slipped her hand inside the fly of Roland’s boxers so she could trace her fingers along his erection.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Roland’s stomach contracted at her touch. Rin knew it was more of a delighted surprise as her hand now curled around the shaft and began to stroke back and forth. Her fingertips worked up a friction as he finally exhaled heavily into her. Then, with just a moment’s hesitation, palmed her between the legs.

Rin’s turn to gasp in pleasure as he rubbed swift circles on her underwear. Teased her until a wetness formed that he pushed the fabric aside to get to. His fingers easily slid in and out of her until they almost started to play. Hooked and curved like she was guitar strings. Rin clenched her eyes shut in ecstasy as she broke the kiss to bury her hand at a pillow. With their guard down, Roland began to play.

Rin got lost in the way his fingers moved inside of her. They searched and learned as they went. She felt Roland’s eyes on her as he darted in over her G-Spot, but Rin thought that to be accidental. Still he forged on; only stopping when her body started to jerk just slightly. He kept at it once he realized that was her clit.

Roland craned again to cover Rin’s mouth with a kiss. His hand never ended manipulating her as he opened a door to her gifts. She was at her most vulnerable, and welcomed him in.

Roland stood just outside the caravan his family spent their summers. He and his Dá had their rows over the enrollment at the conservancy. How had he saved that much money, and why had he disobeyed the rules of the family? Every penny earned went to them, the community. Not some gorja school in Cork.

Roland knew if he left he would be excommunicated from them. He couldn't return, they would make sure he wouldn't be able to find them. Still, with his kit and guitar he looked ahead and never back. He wouldn't always blend in; when he hit it big, Roland would pay them their respect.

By first year's end, gifted students like him were set up with mentors. Someone who had been around the program for a few years. She was pretty with soul piercing blue eyes and jet black hair. Roland was smitten.

Unused to outsiders who moved kind of slow compared to Traveller girls who weren't afforded time. They married by 17 or 18; his own mother was only 33 years old while Roland was 18. Yet in his culture, sex before marriage was unheard of. They dated in large chaperoned groups, and being alone with a woman was forbidden until marriage. His mentor took advantage of that. Of him.

It started the way some flings do, innocent flirting. Then one day as they sat side by side on the piano bench, she stopped playing and made a pattern of nothing on Roland’s thigh. She lightly scratched the denim material before passing over his crotch. Roland played faster to match his breathing as she started to tighten her grip on his noticeable erection. She unzipped his jeans, delved inside his boxers to take his naked cock in her hand. His improvised playing matched the way she began to jerk him off. Frenzied. Clandestine. Wanton. His music and the way he felt were both.. Perfect.

That's the way she did it. Told him it was more fun to keep it hidden. Just between them when it was their time in the practice suites. How powerful it made Roland feel to have a secret like that. How she went down on him some days. Or when they finally fucked (Roland was convinced it was more) on the piano bench. She rode him while he admitted he loved her. He always said he loved her. She would ignore him.

His scores faltered a bit, but his teachers agreed it was probably the adjustment to conservancy life. He was still better than nearly everyone, which made his head grow. Until one afternoon when they were in the room. A surprise.

Roland laid on top of Rin, her legs bent around him. He dug through the pockets of his jeans almost frantically. He was pressed hard into her thigh, but Rin urged him inside of her.

“What are you doing?”

“I forgot a condom.”

“Doesn't matter”

“Do ye really want t’have a baby with someone like me?”

“I can't have them,” Rin was matter of fact.

“Oh.. I'm sorry?” Roland pushed up on one arm to get a better look at her.

“I don't know if you should be. I'm not exactly chuffed with myself half days, imagine me as a mum. With my,” she held her hands aloft. Roland kissed them.

“Then you're meant for so much more.” It was a whisper as he sunk inside of his friend.

Rin’s breath caught in her throat for the hundredth time that evening. She held Roland as he moved in her the same way his fingers had. Her hands splayed along his shoulders as they found a cadence; silent except for their breathing. Roland’s heavy. Rin's airy as she realized a little more about him.

She was married. With a little girl about 7 or 8. Roland knew her husband as the head of the classical music department. Roland’s department. He listened as they talked about him like an art exhibit instead of a human. technique not passion.

But the husband found out, and Roland was placed in the folk music program. It just made him heart sick for Ireland and caravans and Sunday night cèilidh. How he couldn't go back, but she had stopped him from moving forward. Folk music, HIS music, required love and emotion and Roland had been told he was only good for the technical.

Then he did something he hadn't done since he was 3 or 4, Roland just stopped. He'd play something that was mechanical and cold and hard like he would become. Even if Rin had changed his view these past few months.

Rin loved Roland in that moment as he rocked harder and faster. And he loved her. It wasn't the romantic kind; that was ok too. Sometimes you just need a partner to play music with.

Tag list: @robertsheehanownsmyass @nightmonsters @super-unpredictable98 @sean-falco @magic-multicolored-miracle @forenschik @crisis-of-joy @slutforrobbiebro @firstpersonnarrator

[katnissmellarkkk]

Gravity

Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.

Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.

Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖

/

A couple months later.

We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.

I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.

I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.

But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.

I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.

I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.

But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.

Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.

Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.

My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.

I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.

All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.

Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.

But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.

Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised—in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.

Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.

Well, some of my nightmares, that is.

After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.

I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.

The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.

And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.

At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.

Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.

But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.

Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.

Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.

But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.

He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.

I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.

By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.

And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.

The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.

When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."

I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"

Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."

The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.

Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.

The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.

All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.

It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.

There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.

Of course though, it's not my arena.

It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.

It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.

I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.

At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.

I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"

Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."

There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.

"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.

The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."

And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.

The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.

As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.

His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.

Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.

"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.

Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.

I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.

I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.

Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.

To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.

Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.

He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.

//

A couple weeks later.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.

It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.

But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.

The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.

Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.

Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.

Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.

Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.

Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.

Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.

Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.

"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.

"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.

Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.

Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."

Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."

I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.

And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."

"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."

His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."

Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."

I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.

Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.

Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.

Peeta has a type of friend.

"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."

Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."

"I've never even heard that name before."

"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.

I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."

"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."

"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.

"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"

"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.

Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.

He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.

I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.

That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.

"No, I don't want to take it without-"

"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.

Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."

Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.

Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."

I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.

But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.

Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.

I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.

It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"

There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.

"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."

"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.

Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.

The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"

I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.

He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.

It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.

It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.

Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.

"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.

His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.

"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."

I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.

My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.

My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.

And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.

//

Four days later.

The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.

But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.

Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"

I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.

"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.

I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.

There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.

But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.

I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.

But really, does anything?

These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.

No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.

Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.

Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.

They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.

I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.

"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"

I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.

"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.

Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.

"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.

"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."

Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."

I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.

Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."

I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.

I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.

Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.

"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."

His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.

"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."

I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.

Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.

"What?"

"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.

I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.

But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"

"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."

Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.

Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.

I still failed to protect her.

Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.

"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"

He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."

Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?

Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.

He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."

I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."

"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."

I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.

Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.

To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.

And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.

He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.

"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.

"Always."

[artsyxloner]

Not Just a Monster

Warning: blood, violence, death

27: Realization of the true enemy

It's has been a while since I had locked myself up in the quarantine room. Laying down on the mattress. I tried to ignore the huge Puddle of thick blood that was on the floor.

I know I was supposed to be strong but it was completely hard. By having —well the relationship was complicated we didn't Officially Announce we were together but now we never will because Hyun-Su doesn't feel the same way back.

I knew it was all because of that one boy, getting inside Head. I mean Hyun-Su didn't even let me explain and he rather listens to a boy he Barely knows and pushes me aside from the one who has helped him through thick and thin here and it doesn't mean anything over one little thing.

It was hard for me to, and I'm glad the others understood but I thought at least Hyun-Su would have I guess I should have gotten to know him better before jumping into things. I guess I was so Transfixed on feeling bad for him and knowing he was just like me. I didn't get to see this stubborn side of him.

Maybe the reasons why he is-is because of things that happened in his past but that doesn't mean everyone witnesses like that I guess he has major trust issues. It sure seems like it. When you're alone you have a lot to think about.

Maybe I had too much to think about sitting up, I saw a brown leather cover laying on top of a table. Did it seem to be oddly familiar? Maybe this will calm down my consuming thoughts. Dragging myself over to it I carefully picked it up and opened it.

For some reason, I skipped over the first page and went on to the others. It looked like a filed Journal of monsters Someone drew. They were really good. As I continued to search through this thing something fell out on my lap. Picking it up my eyes went wide.

It was a picture. But not just any pictures it was of me and three other people. A woman, a man, and an older boy that looked to be in his early twenties. They were all smiling being happy. I didn't understand was this, my family?

If so why is it in this journal? For some reason, I flipped back to the first page. And almost dropped the book. It was a drawling of them but they were all dead. Why was that even there? Were they killed? Was it by a human or a monster?

It had no writing just gruesome drawings. This helps me know what my family looked like but this doesn't give me any Perspective of who killed them? Something told me it was me in the back of my head but I quickly pushed that aside that was nearly impossible I wouldn't ever try and hurt someone like that.

Or even if I did I would go insane but while trying to stay sane. Because I don't know if I'll be able to handle that? Sliding the picture back in the book I closed it putting it back where it belongs even though it was mine I didn't want to look at it as a reminder that my family was gone.

Yes I should take it with me but I don't remember them and how can I miss them if I don't remember? No memory of any birthdays, family dinners or just watching tv together on Saturday nights?

I had to leave it for now maybe I'll remember one day. I for sure hope so because it was all fuzzy like a screen that has gone static. Getting up I began to search for a bag and start packing things for when I leave tonight.

I won't say anything I'll go anonymously. So no one will have to worry or question why I'm leaving it was for everyone's good. They don't need me like I said I just cause trouble. Heading out of the room. I was about to go to the small convenience store that had almost everything to flashlights, ropes, and first-aid kits.

But stopped when I saw Sang-Wook with Yu-Ri on his back as they passed me. Something was wrong as I heard her wheezing terribly. She must have run out of an inhaler. She could smother to death from lack of oxygen.

( Y'all, I have Severe asthma, and let me tell you it sucks when you don't have an inhaler anyone else? )

I began to follow him, even though I was leaving that still didn't mean I didn't care them I wanted to help. " how long has she been like this and without an inhaler?!" I shouted, Sang-Wook grunted, as he heaved her up as I could tell she was about to fall.

" she just had run out and for a while here!" I nodded the closest Drugstore wasn't far from here. He hand-thrown the keys to me. As we neared the entrance I felt a hard blow that made me go flying back. There were three loud thuds. As I landed on the side of my rib cage.

I cringed, gritting my teeth I could hear Yu-ri Coughing trying her best to breathe. As she sucked in the air, I half-way walked and crawled over to her but was kicked down. I hand gripped the keys in my hand, it was no surprise who I saw looking up.

It was him.

He had stepped on my wrist, bending down he grabbed the set of keys from me. " going somewhere?" He shook the keys in his grasp laughing a bit with a smirk plastered on his face. This little bitch?!

" give them back!" I spit, trying to get up he placed his foot on my chest stepping down on it. Making it hard for me to breathe too. " what's going on?" I heard someone say. The person who walked in it was Hyun-Su I didn't expect a reaction from him.

But when he looked down his eyes widened a bit. He glanced up at his 'friend' questionably? The boy raised his hand up Jingling the keys. " They were trying to leave." Why does he even care? " so?" I pushed his foot off me with all the strength I had.

Getting up, " why does it matter to you!" I began but was Interrupted. " it doesn't matter." Hyun-Su looked at me, I frowned. " if they report us, the soldiers will come." He said Plainly, was this that was all about?

I shook my head. " oh, yeah I would go and risk reporting us?!" I fired back, poking my finger in his chest. I hated this guy. I was so close to wanting to beat the crap out of him he's causing nothing but chaos around here.

" then why are you trying to leave?"

I stopped there for a minute Hyun-Su was the one questioning me now. I balled up my fist. " because there's someone that requires medical attention." I was so angry I began to cry. The last words of my sentence broke. As I blinked a few tears away.

I saw Sang-Wook from the corner of my eye picking up Yu-Ri. I motioned over towards her. " if you cared Hyun-Su you would stop letting this guy get in your head and see who the real problem is because it's not us yes things were difficult for you but did you ever think it was hard for me too?"

I couldn't control my tears anymore they came rushing down it was true it was hard for me but he didn't acknowledge that I was going through a hard time too. I didn't care if I was showing my Vulnerable side it showed that I still had a human heart.

I still had sympathy, I couldn't tell what emotion was going through Hyun-Su's eyes it was hard to read but he snatched the keys from the boy handing them to me. I quickly took them silently thanking him which didn't mean anything.

" Let them go, it's up to her now."

I was the last thing Hyun-Su said before we three made our way to the large opening that was caused by the tank. Sang-Wook began to run along with me to his side. She had to make it. But little did I know things don't turn out the way you want them to.

There was a loud bang that shot throughout the air. I turned my head to see a bullet flying through the air hitting Yu-Ri in the back. The impact of it made her let go of Sang-Wook.

I let out an Ear-piercing scream, seeing her blood splatter out from her back. I began to ran. They both were tipping over but that was good. I pushed them out of the way where the bullets wouldn't hit them anymore. They fell to the ground, " Go! I'll cover you!!!" I yelled. Sang-Wook got up and held on to Yu-ri tightly and began to run.

I heard the sound of more bullets being fired but this time I was the one getting hit in every direction. My body Flung back and forth. It was better for me than them. I hope they were going to be okay.

But soon there was another scream, it wasn't me this time but it sounded more like a boy. The bullets stopped flying, as I fell to the ground on my knees. Everything hurt. As I saw blood seeping in throughout my clothes small holes could be seen through them and my skin.

But I knew I would be okay. Looking up I saw Hyun-Su, he was running towards that boy. I could see his face was twisted in terror as his cries were let out loud. I checked behind me to see. Sang-Wook was lay down on the ground and Yu-Ri was laying her back on the dashboard limbs falling aimlessly.

No!

I was too late they were hit. I began to cry again, I wanted to go over and help them but Sang-Wook motioned me to go and help the others. As there were a loud crash and more screams and gunshots. I turned away running towards the action that was unfolding.

There he was standing in the middle of the room. Holding out a gun shooting people for the fun of it. I blocked there his shots so more people could get to safety. Most of them did. As more of the group came and got Byeong-II he was shot through the back of the chest.

" You never stop trying to get in my way!" I turned and saw his eyes going black. " so I'm just going to have to kill you myself since the first time didn't do the job!" He seethed, as his other arm shot out his hand gripped around my neck pulling me up in the air.

I could feel his fingers tightening Pressing down on my Windpipe. I struggled to breathe choking on my Saliva and air. I grasped his hand trying to make him loosen up but it wouldn't. My feet dangled in the air. I could feel my face turning red from the lack of oxygen.

I tasted blood, as I began to spite it up. More gunshots were fired. As I saw them hit his face but they Protruded out of his skin healing up as nothing had happened. My eye vision was going blurry again until I saw someone from the corner of my eye running towards us.

The person slammed into the boy that was trying to kill me. Both of their bodies flew to the side. As he let go of my neck I fell to the ground hard. Coughing like a fish out of water trying to catch my breath. It was Hyun-Su that tackled him they crashed into a room.

Wood, dust, glass went flying everywhere, I ducked. Hearing groaning, I stepped up about to go and help Hyun-Su but he was thrown out of the glassless window. He went sliding on the ground hitting the wall. Grunting, in pain Running over to him.

I bent down, " Hyun-Su! Are you okay?" I asked worriedly. He looked up and regret was filled in his dark browns. I pulled my hand up under his arm and around his back trying to help him up. I turned my face if was towards him. We were very close. Feeling his hot breath fanning mine as he breathed hard.

" Soo-Nico I'm—" but he was Interrupted by that one boy. He didn't get to finish what he was going to say. I held on to Hyun-Su tightly. " I should've known you were sulking after killing that woman!" I could see his footsteps inching close to us. He grabbed me by my face pulling me up.

" And you trying to defend him for it!!" That's when he threw me up against the wall my back colliding with the glass mirror. I could hear it shattering against my skin as the Ragged blades cut into me. " you both are the weak ones!!" He pushed me harder into the glass. I sucked in a sharp breath.

He then let go was I dropped to the ground next he went over to Hyun-Su. " do you want to know something funny? Let me tell you the truth." He grabbed Hyun-Su face now. That was mixed in with anger towards the boy who he thought he trusted. His jaw was clenched as he bared his teeth.

" you didn't kill anyone."

Hyun-Su face quickly switched into confusion, face lighting a bit in disbelief. The boy then hit him and his hand turned into a sharp spear and jabbed it through Hyun-Su's stomach pushing him up against the wall. I could hear him groaning and grunting in pain.

" because that woman was me." The boy smiled Sinisterly laughing. Like he was having a flashback of what had happened. His eyes were Shown through the broken mirror as his face repeated by it his black eyes the dominant view as he laughed crazily.

He then pulled the spear-like thing out of Hyun-Su as he fell to the ground. I was in pain as I watched the mirror fall on him. His face had so much mixed emotions I couldn't tell what will happen. His fist balled up as the boy started to talk again.

" Nobody can leave!"

He shot at the car as gas leaked out from it. Creating sparks that reached the gas as it soon caught on fire sending the place in a blaze. He had cut the swinging chandelier as his hood up he walked over towards Hyun-Su but his hand soon shot out from underneath the mirror all covered in blood, sweat and dirt.

His fingers and arm twitch and began to bending on all different types of ways as more spear-like things Poked out of his skin. Sliding up with blood covering them. I watched him in horror as he began to transform.

@xetherealbeautyx

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXIX

It was a love story from the very beginning.

I Want You Back (Part II)

(11x16b/11x17)

Hello there! Finally finishing the second part of this meta.

It will focus on the parallel between the entity from the 'Safe House' episode and Amara it’s suggesting. Afterwards we will talk about one of the episodes that were discussed more controversially among us Destiel shippers, I'm talking about 'Red Meat',  and I will show you step by step that it is, indeed, a very Destiel one.

Thanks to @destielle for beta-ing this one! She's amazing. Thank you girl! 😘💝

Soul Eater

Let's talk about that haunting parallel I just mentioned.

If you check episode 11x16, there is this entity from that house that ate souls. 

RUFUS: A Soul Eater? What the hell is that?

BOBBY: Undead creature that feeds on souls. Hence the name. They exist in a place between our world and… another. Soul Eater moves into a house, and once it does, it makes what the lore refers to as a ‘nest’.

RUFUS: A place that exists outside of time and space.

//

SAM:The nest looks and feels like whatever house the Soul Eater is in.

The creature created a fake house, like a reflection in the mirror. It’s a fake home in which the entity shows people the souls of the ones they love in different and terrible situations (dead) to keep them under it's dominium. From the moment the seal was broken, the creature attacked again. 

SAM: Apparently, the nest messes with their victim's head, shows them things they love, parts of their soul in distress, it keeps the victim's soul vulnerable.

So we have a broken seal, a powerful creature eating souls, a fake reality to keep them dominated, right?

And Bobby saying that he could feel the evil in that dimension…

I think we have the perfect description of Amara here, Dean and Sam broke the sigil, Cain's Mark, and she was released, she eats souls, just like the Soul Eater, creating a fake happiness/reality to dominate the victims/Dean.

Again the writers are showing us that Amara is evil, her dominance over Dean is established through fear.

I think it’s vital to mention that between all the books Rufus and Bobby were reading, there was one with the title "Fallen Angel", it make us recall Castiel and Lucifer with the particularity that they're sharing vessels at that moment. Two fallen angels: one fell due to love and the other due to hate.

Another interesting visual narrative that acted as a foreshadowing, was the soul eater placing a hand on Dean's chest in the same way Rowena will place her hand on him in the last episode of the season where he’ll become a soul bomb.

And now, pay close attention to the following scene, because it’s connected to the next episode (Red Meat).

RUFUS: What'd you see, Bobby?

BOBBY: My boys. Both of 'em. Both of 'em dead. And I saw… well I don't know what the hell I saw.

And…

SAM: Hey, you said the Soul Eater made you see things. Plural. So… what else did you see?

DEAN: I saw you. Dead on the floor.

This was a foreshadowing of Sam laying dead on the floor (well he won’t die, but almost) in the next episode. But it’s A BLATANT MIRROR. BOBBY SEEING HIS SONS DEAD ON THE FLOOR. AND IT’S REFLECTING PURELY FAMILIAL LOVE. A father and his two children who are brothers.

FAMILY LOVE, there's no hint of ROMANTIC LOVE in here, no Wincest! Bobby was actively chosen to pose as the mirror. The writers easily could have used a couple with the husband seeing his wife laying dead on the floor, right? But it was BOBBY who saw his boys on the floor, just like Dean saw his brother. It’s about Family!

Sorry I'm a little bossy here, but I need you to understand this point before jumping to the next one.

Using Logic

Let's analyze episode 11x17 with logical facts…

The mentioning of Castiel at the beginning of the episode is there to remind us that Dean is feeling miserable because they couldn't rescue him yet. And he is not sleeping because of that. Sam is trying to comfort him by saying that they’ll get him back.

The episode introduced Corbin and Michelle, a newly-wed couple very much in love.

Corbin would do anything to protect Michelle (Dean mirror) and he is the one becoming a monster (werewolf), so he’s acting as our Castiel's mirror here.

Sam gets shot, and he has a very bad wound. We have Corbin trying to kill him, because he would do anything to save Michelle, even if that implies making a bad decision.

Now, we have Dean thinking his brother is dead. But keep in mind that WHEN HE ENTERS THE ROOM SAM IS ALREADY DEAD (in Dean’s eyes at leat). So DEAN DIDN'T SEE HIS BROTHER DIE. HE FOUND HIM DEAD, LAYING ON THE FLOOR. (First fact).

Then this… he asks Michelle to assist him in his try to contact Death… but … he also says this ..

Dean: Okay. After I do this, go get the doc and tell her to, um... Tell her to bring me back, if she can. If not... no hard feelings, okay?

He is not suicidal here, THIS IS TOTALLY DIFFERENT TO EPISODE 13X05 WHEN HE WANTED TO DIE, NOT WANTING TO LIVE BECAUSE CAS WASN'T ANYMORE. Even knowing Sam was dead, Dean wanted to live. GIVING YOUR LIFE FOR YOUR BROTHER DOESN'T COUNT AS A SUICIDAL THOUGHT, BUT INSTEAD AS SOMETHING ANYONE WOULD DO FOR THEIR BROTHER, especially when that brother is your little brother you raised yourself like a father. (Second Fact).

Dean wants to be alive because he needs to rescue Cas.

Billie: That's what I thought. It's cute, though. You pretending you're trying to save Sam for the greater good, when we both know you're doing it for you. You can't lose him. But even if Sammy could win the title bout... the answer would still be “no.” The answer will always be “no.” Game's over, Dean. No more second chances. No more extra lives. Time to say bye-bye to Luigi, Mario.

This sums up perfectly how Dean feels about Sammy. He raised him, he always took care of him. He can't lose him because all his life revolved around Sam. This is not Wincest, this is solely FAMILY LOVE. Remember what we said about Bobby a little earlier, these were Bobby's feelings too.

I will put here an addition from Destielle, she talked about the well known toxic codependency, and i think is important too:

"Billie basically calls out the toxic codependency between Sam and Dean here. ‘You’re doing it for you’ she deadpans. It’s more about Dean fulfilling the task, or rather duty, John gave him so early on, that it’s part of Dean’s personality. An automatism. He doesn’t want Sam to live because it was Sam’s wish, but because Dean needs Sam to keep things the way they always have been as so not having to deal with himself."

Is interesting because John Winchester heritage to Dean was the GUILT and the FIRST BORN duty, so practically, he keeps reacting and acting like a soldier that needs to protect the little brother and the entire world, I talked so many times in My metas about this toxic heritage and about THE BIG PROTECTOR living inside Dean. Interesting comment my friend! Thank you!

Dean’s spirit [sadness and desperation in his eyes]: I'm asking you... I'm begging you, please. Bring him back. Bring him back and take me instead.

DEAN WINCHESTER WILL ALWAYS GIVE HIS LIFE IN EXCHANGE FOR THE ONES HE LOVES BECAUSE HE IS DEAN WINCHESTER. NOT JUST FOR SAM, BUT FOR THE WORLD, AND CAS.

Billie: I'm not here to bargain with you, kid. I'm here to reap you. And the kicker is... Sam's not dead. [Dean looks stunned] But you are. Or will be, soon enough.

Now… let's go with Michelle and Dean's conversation… the third fact:

Dean: Michelle, this is gonna be very hard. But you will be okay. And, eventually... eventually you'll get back to normal.

Dean is talking from experience. Drawn from every time he lost a friend, a family member (including Sam) which he always affronted in the same way, by hunting, drinking heavily and stuffing bacon in his face. It always was hard at first but got better with time until he got back to normal. He's talking with determination because he lost a lot of beloved people. But … he hasn’t lost the love of his life yet… Michelle did…

Gif set credit @thejabberwock 👇

Michelle [sighing]: No, I won't. They said I could leave... [she sighs] an hour ago. But... where am I even supposed to go? After everything we survived together... [turning back to Dean] I watched the man I love die. There's no normal after that.

This is a rich piece of text over there. First of all, she's convincing Dean she won't be back to normal. Ever. She's the one talking with authority now, because she's talking from her experience of losing the love of her life… 'where am I even supposed to go?' SHE'S LOST, Just as lost as Dean will be for the first 5 episodes from season 13. 'After everything we survived together…' these words are carving deep into Dean's heart, because the man he loves is in danger in the very moment, and I know he's recalling everything they survived together. 'I watched the man I love die, there's no normal after that', Dean's face is priceless here, full of fear, he doesn't want to go through the same Michelle has and had to. He doesn't want to watch Cas die. And I want you to remember the first fact I pointed out, MICHELLE IS SAYING SHE WATCHED CORBIN DIE, not that she found him dead. Okay? So we are not talking about a reference to the death of Sam here. Dean didn't watch him die, he found him dead. And secondly, Dean knows Sam is okay by now, so why would he display a face full of pain and fear? Who's the one in real danger now, possessed by Lucifer? CASTIEL. DEAN DOESN'T WANT TO SEE CASTIEL DIE. HENCE THE TERRIFIED EXPRESSION.

AND THAT'S WHY IN THE NEXT EPISODE HE WILL FIGHT AGAINST RATIO, AGAINST WHAT’S THE LOGICAL THING TO DO, JUST BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT TO SEE THE MAN HE LOVES DIE. Sorry for the yelling. But I needed to make things clear.

To Conclude:

The Soul Eater in episode 11x16 is a blatant mirror of Amara. Another way to show us her dominance over Dean is a forced and dark one.

Episode 11x17 must be analyzed with logic. The clues are in the details and related to the previous episode in which Bobby saw Sam and Dean dead. It was purely about FAMILIAL LOVE and it must not be mistaken for something else because that just would be a twisted interpretation.

Dean giving his life in exchange for the one of EVERYONE shouldn't be mistaken for suicidal tendencies, too.

The fact that he wanted to go on with his life EVEN THOUGH BEING CONVINCED SAM IS DEAD is an important difference to how Dean is behaving in 13x05.

We have the foreshadowing for Castiel's death and Mourning!Dean and a prelude to 11x18 where we’ll have a very desperate Dean trying to save his angel.

Hope you liked this one! See you in the next meta!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@imjustkipping @destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis

If you want to be added or removed from this list just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From s11, her you have the links.

Vol. LXII, XLIII, XLIV, LXV, LXVI, LXVII, LXVIII

Buenos Aires July 7th 2020 5:36 PM

[smileyoongle]

Come Back Home (A Kim Taehyung Mafia AU) // Part 5

So as an apology for the previous small chapter, I decided to give you a long one. Let's get it!

Summary: You were dead. Or at least that's what Kim Taehyung thought. But love never dies. A myth, yes. And maybe that's why when he finds out that you are alive, he may have already lost you.

Pairing: Mafia!Taehyung×Reader

"What the fuck did you do?!"

Minho bellowed, his fists clenching as he held himself back from knocking over the expensive vase that lay on the table in the middle of the room. Yoona sat on the couch with her face buried in her hands, shaking her head knowingly at Minho's outburst.

Minho wasn't expecting this from his sister. As much as he used to think that Yoona cared about you, he wasn't sure anymore. She lied to you when you were at your most vulnerable state. What kind of a best friend does that?

"I don't understand why you're so mad." Yoona stated, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. She could feel the headache coming, the hectic events of the day making her exhausted. 

Minho raised his eyebrows in disbelief, scoffing at his older sister who seemed unaffected by whatever happened. 

You were lying unconscious in bed upstairs, all because Yoona wasn't in her right mind.

"You do know that you just signed your death warrant, right? I am not her boyfriend. My feelings for her are nothing in comparison to what she feels for Taehyung. If you can't take care of her then we might as well just send her back with Taehyung. At least he won't fool around with her." Minho spat, disgusted by his sister's actions. 

There was no denying that he did like you, once upon a time. But he respected your choices more. He respected the fact that you were happy with Kim Taehyung, the man who was out to ruin his life. If Minho was alive today, it was only because of you. You warmed Taehyung up and everyone in the underworld was aware of it. 

Yoona's eyes shot up to Minho's, glaring at him as if he had committed a crime. She knew she kind of messed up but Minho's accusations weren't helping. She cared about you, a lot more than anyone but no one wanted to understand her. 

"I am not the monster here, Minho. Taehyung is not good for her. She chose him over me- us, only because he manipulated her. But now her mind is completely free from his hold. And the only way to get her back is through you. So if you care about her, you are her boyfriend. Do you-"

"When I sent her with you, I didn't think you were gonna stoop so low."

A deep voice made Yoona's eyes widen, her head whipping towards the doorway to find three men standing there. Taehyung's piercing eyes stared into hers with such intensity, she almost shuddered.

A wave of betrayal washed over her as she turned to look at Minho, who was only staring at her nonchalantly.

"You called him?!" Yoona sneered, glaring at her brother with a look that made him feel guilty. But not for too long. 

Whatever she has up her sleeve, is wrong.

"I only called Hoseok. Y/N isn't well and Hoseok is basically her doctor so…"

"Y/N is perfectly okay! She only fainted because she's still weak." Yoona argued, staring at everyone in the room with a crazed look. 

Hoseok took a look around the house, wondering where you were. He decided to break through the ice and just get over with everything before things escalated out of hand. 

"Where is she?" He asked, giving Minho a pointed look. Yoona shook her head at her brother, begging him with her eyes to not say anything. But unfortunately, Minho pitied you more than he pitied his sister. He didn't want your purity to be tainted by someone as cunning as his sister. 

"Upstairs. The last room on the left." Minho answered, holding Yoona's arm when it seemed like she was about to run off to stop Hoseok. 

Minho knew that he wasn't a saint but he hated himself for everything he had done. Two months at a rehab facility made him realize how short life is to just waste it in the confines of a building, trying to recover from something that could have been avoided. He was grateful for Yoona. She was a good sister but maybe not a good friend.

Taehyung simply stared at Yoona with a blank expression, not even glancing at Hoseok as he made his way upstairs. 

Taehyung was lost. It was simple as that. He knew that your memories weren't supposed to be toyed with and Yoona was doing exactly that. She had put him in a position to hurt you more. If he suddenly went up to you and told you that it wasn't Minho that you loved, he was sure you'd lose your mind. He couldn't do that to you. Absolutely not.

Jungkook stepped forward towards Minho, an icy glare fixed on the latter. 

"What's your game? You think you can act like a saint and get away while your pathetic sister spins up a web of lies for a helpless girl who was fucking tortured? I should have killed you when I had the chance." Jungkook spat, a faint smirk painting itself on his lips when he saw Minho gulp. No matter who said what, Jungkook knew better than to trust anyone related to Yoona. 

Minho stood his ground, returning Jungkook's glare. Or at least trying to. He was intimidated by the doe-eyed man but he had to prove himself. He wasn't the same person anymore. He had changed for the better and he wanted everyone to see that.

"My brother had nothing to do with this so keep him out!" Yoona retorted, trying to protect her sibling. Jungkook only chuckled in response before his eyes darkened.

"You're the one who dragged him into this by making him Y/N's boyfriend." Jungkook replied, gritting his teeth. He could feel the itch in his hands, begging him to slit Yoona's throat. He couldn't even bare to stand in the same room as her. He was truly disgusted by her. Until now, he used to think he was a bad person and he deserved to burn alive but Yoona proved him wrong.

Taehyung quietly stood, watching the exchange by the sidelines. He was actually dumbfounded. He didn't know what to say but something in him believed Minho. Maybe he wasn't lying. 

But can you trust him?

Taehyung frowned at his conscience, taking a step forward to take the lead.

"I don't know why you lied to her. Whatever twisted reason you have, I don't care. But if something happens to her, I'll make sure to hurt you more than I hurt Castillo. And I hurt him real bad." Taehyung seethed, gritting his teeth so hard that he thought he'd almost break them. Yoona's eyes went from Taehyung's face to the floor, a knowing shudder passing through her spine. She knew Taehyung wasn't lying. Even though she didn't know how much Taehyung's love for you was worth, she did know that he was highly protective of you.

Taehyung inhaled deeply before turning his eyes to Minho who was silently gaping at him. With a burning glare, Taehyung took hold of Minho's collar, receiving a gasp from Yoona's mouth. 

Taehyung tightened his grip, pulling the collar together to constrict some of Minho's oxygen. 

"And you. If you play smart with me, you'll fucking wish you were never born." Taehyung threatened, his eyes turning a slight shade of red. The air in the room was thick and the silence was deafening. Everything seemed to be on fire due to Taehyung's wrath. But it was fair.

Hoseok descended the stairs, pursing his lips on seeing Taehyung's hold on Minho. 

"Y/N is awake. She's alright for now." Hoseok announced, eyeing Yoona as she sighed. Taehyung frowned, letting go of Minho's collar and turning to face Hoseok.

"For now? What do you mean?"

Hoseok sighed sadly, looking at Taehyung with all the pity that he could muster. Jungkook narrowed his eyes, "What is it?"

"She could be having PTSD."

Everyone's breathing seemingly hitched, Taehyung's eyes closing in sorrow. 

At this point, all he could do was blame himself. This was all his fault and there was no one else to blame. He should have protected you better. He shouldn't have left your hand and he shouldn't have lost hope so soon.

Hoseok cautiously stepped forward and placed a hand on Taehyung's shoulder. "She wants to see you, man." 

At those words, Taehyung's eyes immediately shot up to Hoseok's, seeing if there was any hint of sarcasm in them. But there wasn't. All he could see was a sense of relieved happiness. And Taehyung couldn't be more pleased. 

"Really?" Taehyung asked, his heart racing in his chest as if it were in a marathon. Hoseok nodded in response before nudging his head towards the staircase. With that, Taehyung gave him a firm smile and took off, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

There was no feeling in this world that could describe how he felt. It was a mix of emotions, too much for his heart to handle and too good for his lips to hide. He was grinning, breathing heavily as he reached the last room. 

He knocked lightly, wondering why you wanted to see him. Maybe you remembered something? Even though that was too big of a dream, Taehyung hoped it was true. He wanted his love back.

On hearing a soft 'come in', he opened the door, stepping inside the decent sized room with blue walls. His eyes scanned the room as he gently closed the door behind him, the wind coming in from the windows making his hair ruffle.

There was a kind of warmth in the room. It felt like home and rainbows and all things nice. Why? 

Because you were there.

Taehyung saw you sitting on the bed, your hair preventing him from seeing your face as you were turned away from him. But the bandages and cotton in front of you told him that you were trying to change your dressing.

With a hiss, you turned your face towards Taehyung, not seeing him yet. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back on the headboard, wincing a little at your exposed wound. Taehyung's breath hitched on seeing your shoulder bare, your sleeve hanging on your upper arm. There was a painful looking gash which was partially bleeding, it's bluish edges making Taehyung squirm. You must be in so much pain.

"I can help with that."

You flinched on hearing Taehyung's voice, your head jolting back and hitting the headboard with a thud. 

"Ah-ouch…" you whimpered, rubbing the back of your head furiously. You felt so embarrassed. You had completely forgotten that someone was in the room with you. But not your fault. You had failed to tell Hoseok that your wound was bleeding and by the time you went to say it, he had already left. It was all left to you now.

The throbbing in your head seemed to go away in seconds and you finally turned your attention to Kim Taehyung who was looking at you with concern. He had a black turtleneck and his tanned skin was glowing in the light that entered your room through the window. 

You were standing in the presence of a mafia leader who looked so damn fine. Your cheeks heated up and you looked away from him, his eyes becoming too intimidating for you to handle.

"Yes please…" you whispered, peering up at him through your lashes. Taehyung almost didn't hear it, too busy admiring your flustered state. You looked like an injured angel. His angel.

He gave you a soft nod and sat down beside you, inhaling deeply as you shifted a little towards him, leaning your shoulder so that he could easily access it.

You internally gasped, your heart thudding loudly when Taehyung's fingers came in contact with your skin. He was trying his best to not hurt you, grazing his fingers on your shoulder to brush your hair away. Your skin was on fire under his touch and you turned your face away from him to avoid blushing more.

Taehyung started working on your wound, cleaning the blood and making sure your bleeding has stopped. 

"Did you hit your shoulder somewhere?" He asked, frowning in concentration. The wound looked like it was tampered with, otherwise Hoseok's dressing was always on point.

You glanced at his face, biting your lip at the proximity. If you leaned in closer, your lips would definitely touch his cheek. You shook your head, willing all these absurd thoughts to go away.

"Umm….I think when I passed out, I fell on this side." You answered, nodding your head towards your wounded shoulder. Taehyung nodded, his lips pursed as he bandaged your shoulder nicely.

"There." He mumbled, pulling away and letting you see his work. But your eyes couldn't move away from his face, a smile spreading on your lips as you thanked him. 

Taehyung held back the urge to kiss you, his gaze falling to your lips. There was a time when he didn't have to think so much about kissing you. And now he wasn't sure when he'll be able to do that.

"You wanted to see me?" Taehyung asked, his curiosity eating him up inside. His mind was running through a number of possibilities.

Did you have a question that you couldn't ask anyone else?

Did you perhaps remember something about your relationship with Taehyung?

"I...had like a vision? I don't know what to call it." You mumbled, fiddling with your fingers and trying to figure out the right thing to say. Taehyung narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, noticing your nervousness.

"You can talk to me, Y/N. I don't mean any harm to you. Never have." Taehyung assured, offering you a gentle smile. Your heart swooned at the way his lips stretched at you. He was looking at you as if you were the reason for his existence. 

Maybe you were. Maybe that's why you had that sketchy dream.

You found yourself staring at him, his eyes pulling you in like a moth to the light. 

"I saw you and me. I don't know what was going on but we seemed...close." You explained, your voice soothing Taehyung like honey. He tilted his head, hiding the smile that was threatening to play out.

You had a flashback?

"I wanna know who you are. What's your relationship with me? Because nothing seems right. It's like I don't even know who I am. I just wanna remember something apart from what I already know. Just...please tell me." You begged, your voice cracking as you gasped occasionally to breath.

Taehyung immediately moved forward to comfort you but you already had something in mind. You threw yourself in his arms, crying against his chest as he froze under your touch. 

This was a girl with no memory, crying in his arms because she was lost. But for Taehyung, this was you, begging him to make you remember. But he didn't know how to tell you anything.

So he just wrapped his arms around you and held you firmly, rubbing your back and whispering comforting things to you.

"You're right, Y/N. We were close. We are close. You can say I was your...best friend." Taehyung said, his voice like a whisper, fading into your cries. He couldn't bring himself to tell you the truth. Because you weren't okay yet. You weren't ready to love him back. And he was willing to wait.

Something in you snapped and you pulled away harshly.

What were you doing?! Throwing yourself in the arms of a man you didn't know? 

Hurt flashed across Taehyung's face but he was quick to cover it. However, he couldn't control the aching in his heart. He missed you so much. And seeing that clueless look in your eyes made him weaker.

You wiped away your tears and glanced at the floor, feeling a little embarrassed about your reaction. Definitely you could have handled this situation without crying. But what were you to do? Your mind was a big black hole that seemed to grow deeper.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done-"

"You don't have to apologize for anything when you're with me, love." Taehyung said, giving you a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. How would it? He was fucking heartbroken.

You didn't respond, only playing with the hem of your shirt as Taehyung continued to stare at you.

This was it then, Taehyung thought. He stood up and decided that maybe it was best to leave you alone. You had things to think about. 

A boyfriend, you mean.

He gritted his teeth at the realisation. Only if he could tell you. 

With a shaky sigh, Taehyung turned around to leave, placing his hands on the doorknob when your voice stopped him.

"If we were best friends….I can trust you, right?" You asked, looking at the handsome male with hopeful eyes. He looked at you over his shoulder before turning around.

"Always."

You could feel yourself relaxing at his reply. It felt right. He felt right.

"If I ever wanna meet you, will you come?" You were now sitting up straighter, the pain in your shoulder feeling less important than Taehyung. 

There it was again, Taehyung's moment of hope. It was exhausting to lose hope again and again only for it to revive. Taehyung's life had been very different before you. He didn't believe in hope or any of that TV series cliché. But after you, he changed. He liked himself better and he knew everyone did too.

His eyes darted around the room in search of anything he could write with. You seemed to read his mind because the next second, you held out your wrist along with a pen from under your pillow.

Taehyung was speechless before he let out a soft chuckle and moved forward. 

"I-there was no paper." You stated, biting your lip afterward. Taehyung took the pen from you and held your hand in his. Your heart suddenly picked up it's pace and you mentally scolded yourself.

He's your best friend.

You reminded yourself, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as the pen glided over your skin. Taehyung's dark brown eyes glanced at you for a second before he continued writing down his number, a gush of wind adding to your goosebumps.

He let go of your hand, his fingers lingering a little longer then they should. But you didn't oppose. His touch felt so warm and fragile. It made you feel special.

"I'll call you." You said, making him nod in response. Hesitantly, Taehyung took off to leave.

"Take care, Y/N. I'll see you soon." 

💔🖤💔🖤

Jungkook was mad at Taehyung for not telling you the truth when he had the chance. It was like Taehyung suddenly became a saint and he wasn't liking it. You were a special person for every member of the gang, your bright nature had contributed to changing everyone for the better. And Jungkook was the first one you had bonded with. Even before Taehyung. 

Nobody needed to say anything, but everyone was lost without you. Taehyung was a little more than lost but it was destructive. They all needed you.

That's why Jungkook had requested to see you. Taehyung didn't say no because he knew how Jungkook felt towards you. There was a soft spot in the youngest male's heart for you. Taehyung trusted Jungkook with your life.

And so here he was, despite the protests of Yoona, with a small book that was tucked under his leather jacket. He was gonna fix it.

He knocked and let himself in after hearing your 'come in'. He winced on seeing your shocked expression but he knew you would relax.

"Hey Y/N. You feeling okay now?" Jungkook asked, flashing you his sweetest smile. And it seemed to work because your shoulders relaxed visibly.

You gently nodded, taking in his entire appearance. You knew him. You had caught his name when you were at Taehyung's house.

"Jungkook, wasn't it?" You asked, sighing when he nodded. Jungkook's heart swelled with pride. You did remember him. Even if it wasn't since before your kidnapping incident.

"I just came to give you something. I know how you must be feeling about all this and I wanna help you." He stated, shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

Any help was welcomed by you. You were desperate and hungry to find out the missing pieces of your memory's puzzle. You looked at him with a certain glint of happiness.

"What is it?" You enquired, gripping the sheets tightly. Jungkook looked behind him at the door, trying to catch any sound of someone approaching but there was none. He walked over to you and took the book from under his jacket, running his finger over it once, as if to relish it's feel.

"This is your diary. You used to write in it everyday. Don't ask me how I got it, Y/N. You'll find out everything soon. Just know that...I hope you remember me someday." Jungkook said, handing you the baby blue book which had your name engraved on it.

It was a gift to you by Taehyung, not that you'd remember. You glanced at the beautiful notebook, a smile gracing your lips naturally. This was the key. The answer to every question you had. You detected the sadness in Jungkook's voice when he said those words to you, a pang of guilt washing over you.

"I am sorry." Was all you could say and it broke Jungkook's heart. Without another word, he bent down and hugged you, clenching his eyes shut to prevent the tears that were threatening to spill. He took in your scent, letting out a breathy laugh when he felt your fingers ruffling his hair. This was something you always did. But this could be a coincidence for all he knew, so he brushed it off.

Jungkook pulled away, quickly wiping away a tear that finally made its way down his cheek. But you saw it. You didn't know the man before you. You didn't know how he came into your life but you did know that you meant a lot to him. Something told you that your life was perfect before everything had changed. 

"I'll get going now." Jungkook waved at you, taking steps backwards until he reached the door. He grinned at you when you waved back, a sense of belonging settling in your features. 

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and glanced at you. The dark look in his eyes made you worried. It made you wonder what was suddenly running through his mind.

"Be careful, Y/N. Everyone's always lying around here."

Taglist: @min-t-posts @annoyinglyunabashedangel @bringitseijoh @kpopgirlbtssvt @jeonjello @shadowstark @bangtanniexxx @wendyiiwl @imlostindarkness @sinnersblogg @jazzytfw @lovestrucked-again @hopetookmysoul @angelwolfexorcist @taes-strawberry @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @annoyingpessimist @hajimaoppaa @atwoodscott @kawaiimusiccollection @byeolizzie @sleepysavya @sensiblebutch @moonlit-tae @soundofwonderland @the-fangirl-lorax @btsarmysvtcarat @youthandtears @novelreadOOO @glitterytreephantom @entitledtolove @somewhereinthestarss

Sorry to the people I missed out. Tell me if you wanna be tagged! Okay bye ily!

-XX

[staytiny-angel]

Safe Haven 3/?

Co-written with @scream-qween

Pairings: Drew McIntyre/Becky Lynch, Eventually Drew McIntyre/Becky Lynch/Seth Rollins, Jon Moxley/Renee Young, Sasha Banks/Bayley/Charlotte Flair

Warnings: Violence, Language

Word Count: 1799

Summary: After an 8-year absence, 25-year-old Seth Rollins returns home to his pack but in no way resembling the Beta Werewolf that ran away after a violent misunderstanding with his brothers.

Seth is feral, and trapped in a form the bitten wolf shouldn't even be capable of, it turns out that he is the victim of a powerful curse that would make him a mindless slave.

Meanwhile Alpha Werewolf Drew McIntyre and his Part Banshee, Part Sea Witch mate Becky Lynch have joined the unorthodox pack of Haven in search of the final member of the Triad a seer told the pair they were destined to be apart of.

Taglist: @sethsevolution @feathers-and-flesh-and-wrestling @deepdisireslonging @writtingrose @pikapuff316 @hitory--chan @finnsauroraborealis @the-beastslayers-queen

Becky took a step back, "What the hell is that?"

Finn sighed, closing his eyes until they returned to blue. "It's a long story"

"I got time, explain" Becky demanded, Drew stepping up next to her

Seth whimpered and licked Finn's face, causing Finn to smile, and lean down to rub his head against the wolf's.

"You know he doesn't like that story" Elias says gently

"I know" the vampire replied "Go play with Baron, Seth. Ember should be around somewhere as well."

With a huff and one last lick to the face of each vampire Seth ran off though the mansion to find his other friend, Baron following closely behind him.

"I recognize you as well, Cailleach na Mara and you are supposed to be very much dead." Finn says standing up and brushing off his black slacks before reaching down and helping his wife to her feet.

"So the hell are you cousin." Becky says with a snort

"Cousin!" Everyone exclaimed

"How…" Stephanie started to say

"I'm older then I look." Becky says easily, "MUCH older"

"You were killed by a Vampire." Becky says as if putting the pieces of a puzzle together "The clan told stories about seeing you still walking around after you'd died but…"

"Attacked by a vampire? Yes. Killed? Not so much"

"Prince Devitt did die that day, remember your memory problems?" Violet said.

"If you hadn't found me, I'd gone completely feral" Finn remised, kissing her head.

"Explain" Becky said

"I found him." Violet says "Dying. My sister attacked him and I saved him but his transition was….brutal and he lost a lot of his human memories. Balor has been slowly healing that part of his mind for well over a century"

"Now somebody explain why our child is a fully shifted wolf" Finn says

"Paul Heyman. He tried to turn Seth into...a slave for whatever reason. It didn't work out so well, but Seth's been like this for a while" Elias answered, making sure to step back.

Finn took a shaky breath, his eyes flashing between blue and red before finally settling on red. "Really Bálor?" Violet asked

"That....walrus, he tried to enslave our Puppy?" Balor roared causing everyone to wince and take a huge step back from the demon king. From somewhere in the house you could hear a howl and heavy four-legged footsteps, then from a corridor came Seth running, followed by Baron and a smaller wolf with orange-tipped black fur.

Seth, much to the discomfort of both Drew and Becky ran straight for the demon, who in a surprising show of strength caught the huge wolf.

"He's close with a demon...cool" Becky said, uneasy.

"We need to tell Shawn about this" Violet spoke up. "Tell a broken hearted fire sprite, 'Hey, the thing that killed your wife and twins? Yeah, his buddy tried to enslave your youngest nephew!' That? Is a death sentence" Eilas argues

"And it'd be better for him to find out later?" Violet asks

"I would highly suggest we save that conversation for after Seth is back in human form" Hunter says knowing his adopted brother well. "Seth is one of the few people who can keep Shawn calm, "

"We need your summoning circle and we need Balor to put one of his Shields around it, so we can turn him back" Stephanie explained to the pair, before asking Seth "How big are you now, so I can conjure you up some clothes"'

Elias looked down in surprise "Really? Finally had that growth spurt?" he smirked at the wolf before telling Stephanie "He says he's 6" 2" and kinda beefy?"

"Can finally fight me brother" Mox grinned, Seth growling playfully. Bálor set him down gently before summoning a ring of black fire around him. "How are we doing this" he gestured to Becky

Becky stepped forward and gestured to Stephanie,"Guide me through the counter-curse?"

Stephanie nodded "Are you ready, Starshine?"

"He's ready." Elias answered for the wolf

"Everyone back up, and keep that shield up Balor." Stephanie says taking the sea witch's hand and beginning to chant, her own golden magic soon being joined by Becky's ocean blue.

Stephanie began to pant with exertion as gold, blue and black magic surrounded Seth, who howled in pain

The magic flared almost all the way to the top of the high vaulted ceiling, completely obscuring the form within before finally fading and revealing a tall, tanned man with long dark, blond tipped hair and a thick beard, shivering and panting, with sharpened nails and fangs.

Stephanie magiked clothes on him before collasping into Humter's arms.

"Welcome back baby brother" Mox said.

"Glad to be back" Seth replied in a voice raspy from disuse, before he started to laugh for a few minutes until his eyes landed on Becky, who was now sitting on the floor with Drew wrapped around her from behind holding her up

Almost in a single leap Seth crossed the room and landed in front of the pair, startling them.

"Here we fucking go" Elias murmured

As soon as the pair locked eyes with the man crouched in front of them sonething…clicked.

"Son of a bitch" Drew swore. "You can only sense your mates for the first time when their in human form."

"Bingo" Elias says with a smirk, "Seth knew as soon as he was in his right mind"

Stephanie's eyes darted between her son and the newest members of their pack, "Goddess Above" she whispered "Xavier was right"

Everyone looked at the witch who was being held similarly to Becky by her own mate. "What?!" Mox says looking at his mother.

"Xavier had a vision about 3 months ago. He said we had to let the next two people who came to us for sanctuary into Haven, that they would be the key to getting Seth back. You two showed up about a week after that."

"We were told to come here to find our third" Drew muttered.

"Sorry we had to meet like this" Seth said. "With me all growly and shit"

Becky leaned forward and petted Seth's beard much like she had petted him in wolf form, Seth leaning into the touch "It's okay. You were kinda cute. Much cuter this way though"

"Anyone else notice that the redhead has a type?" Mox asks, pointing out the similarities in Drew and Seth's appearances

"All werewolves kinda look alike though" Violet argued.

"True but two mates looking like they could be related? Kinda a stretch" Mox replied

"I have to talk to Uncle Shawn" Seth said, turning to Stephanie "Mom. The twins aren't dead. Heyman has them under some kind of mind control spell. They both wear these amulets that they aren't allowed to take off for any reason. I managed to snatch Rhea's off of her when I was in wolf form and she recognized me, that's how I escaped from his compound. She blasted me out but The Beast caught up to us and Heyman put it back on her."'

Stephanie covered her mouth in shock. "Oh my god, Shawn always said he knew they were alive, but...we could never prove it" Seth hugged her tightly.

"What made Heyman target you?" Drew asked

"I'm not what I thought I was." Seth said quietly "Heyman's spell didn't work right on me...because I'm part warlock. Remember Mom? We always wondered why I was so good at seeing magic?" Seth waved his hand in the air creating a shower of silver sparks. "My birth mother was a Wolf and my birth father was a Warlock, they worked for Heyman but escaped when they found out they were gonna have me. That's why Heyman was here the day he killed Aunt Chyna and took the twins. He was looking for me"

"He will never have you again" Violet says. "You are our son, my baby." she caressed his cheek, Seth grabbing her hand.

Ember nudged Bálor, who scratched her head."You're gonna have to be careful Seth. Heyman won't just let you be free"

"That's why I'm here, he's going to try and get an pure Alpha. He think Omegas and Betas shake off his magic too easily and it isn't just Wolves that are vulnerable The Beast was a Dragon before Heyman fucked with him" Seth explained "When I was here the only Pure Alphas were Roman, Dad, Xavier, Charlotte and Renee"

He looked up at Drew "I'm gonna assume you are too?" He asked "Honestly, don't know for sure" Drew replied. "And I don't really care. Alphas have to protect everyone, I just have to protect Spitfire"

Seth nodded and continued "Whatever Heyman's magic did to me I have no fucking clue what I am anymore, I know it broke the seal my birth mother must have put on my magic, cause I can actually do shit now"

"I can help teach you" Becky quietly offered walking toward her new mate.

"Thank you" he says gently, with a slight bow. "I know I come with a fuckton of baggage, so I do understand if neither of you want to be mated to me"

Their impromptu meeting was interrupted when a golden blonde Wolf came barreling into the house and ran straight to Elias barking furiously

"Slow down, Renee what's wrong?!" The siren knelt down and placed a hand on her head. "I'm just gonna look okay honey?" he says gently as he closes his eyes only for them to snap open in horror a moment later.

"Elias?" Stephanie asks

"The Beast was here. Heyman took Roman."