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xomakara · 5 months ago

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Forever Lost, Forever Found

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You're cursed to live an immortal life since you had broken the rules of the Celestial Realm. You're banished to live the life of a mortal but cursed to live forever and watch everyone die around you. It's the modern time and you meet Choi Jongho, a man that resembles someone you fell in love with many centuries ago. PAIRING | Jongho x Reader GENRE/CONTENT | mortal!Jongho, goddess!Reader, non-idol au, fantasy, romance, angst, fluff,slight suggestive (not really, more implied lol) WARNINGS | It’s a fantasy setting so…like exile, betrayal, etc. I mean not really any warnings I don’t think. RATING | SFW LENGTH | 6,230 words TAGLIST | -- NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | I think this took me like a few days to write…more like a few hours haha. This concept/idea was so fresh in my mind that I had to write this. And look! My first SFW fic in a very, very long time (not including my dad!Wooyoung fic out there lol). Thank you for all the love and support and please reblog, comment and like. Much love~

Transcending time and eternal life.

You’ve been alive for a long time - too long. You’re a divine being, a high goddess, cursed to live an immortal life ever since you broke the rules of the Celestial Realm because you fell in love with a mortal. You were banished to live the life of a mortal, but cursed to live forever and watch everyone die around you.

You’ve seen empires rise and fall, watched civilizations crumble to dust. You’ve loved and lost more times than you can count. And each time, the pain is just as fresh as the first.

But there’s something different about this man. The first time that Choi Jongho walked into the cafe that you were working at in this time period, you felt something inside you stir and awaken. He reminds you so much of the man that you loved in your last life, so much like him that it takes your breath away when he looks at you. He reminds you of your first husband that you fell in love with many centuries ago. The husband that made you broke the rules of heaven and sealed your eternal fate.

You know that you can’t get too close to him. If you do, he’ll just end up like all the others. But you can’t help yourself. You’re drawn to him in a way that you’ve never been drawn to anyone else before. There’s no logic behind it, but the second you laid eyes on him, you knew deep down in your heart that you were meant to be together… even if it was just for a little while.

The day he asked you out, you should have said no. Should have pushed him away. Your life has always been doomed to failure after all, hasn’t it? Who knows how long you’ll be able to keep him in the dark? What happens when he finds out that you’re a divine being?

’Just one date,’ you tell yourself. ’If it doesn’t work out, then I won’t see him again.’

That’s what your rational mind tells you, anyway. So you go on that date with him. One date turns into another. Another turn leads to another date. Then another. Before you know it, you’ve fallen head over heels for him. Because he makes you feel things that you haven’t felt in ages. Feelings that are not just from lust. He makes you laugh. And he brings back memories of better days.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You promised yourself that you would never allow yourself to get close to someone again. Never allow them to break your heart or make you feel things that you’ve grown numb to.

All those promises flew right out the window when you saw Jongho. When he looked at you. When he touched you. Every single time, your insides tingle and your blood runs hot. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into him. Soon enough, you’ve found yourself completely enamored by him.

He’s helped you forget for a while. And when he kissed you for the first time, you’d forgotten all of your worries. All of your pain. For just that moment. Nothing else mattered except that his lips were pressed against yours, holding you tightly. Kissing you softly. Holding you close. And making sure that you didn’t go anywhere without him.

That kiss set off a spark inside of you that had been dormant for a very long time. It awoke a hunger inside of you that you thought was long dead. Jongho’s slowly drawing you back out of the darkness. Bringing back the person that you once were, the person that you used to be when you were with your first husband. He shows you a glimpse of the future, and it looks bright. For just a few moments, you let yourself dream about what could be. About how happy you might be. How good it feels to finally be loved again.

Every single night, you fall asleep with a smile on your face. Falling asleep next to him is even better. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. Feeling his warm breath against your neck. The feel of his chest rising and falling next to you.

And every morning, you wake up with the same smile on your face. Even though you’re broken. Even though you’ve been hurt again and again, you find comfort in the fact that you still have hope for a brighter tomorrow.

A future with him.

Tonight you watched Jongho as he slept. He moved restlessly, rolling around on his side, making small noises every now and then. His dark hair covered his forehead, framing his delicate features and you wanted to run your fingers through them. To stroke the side of his face. Touch him in ways you hadn’t been able to touch your husband in all these centuries.

When he shifted slightly, you realized that he was awake, his eyes fluttering open slowly. “Babe?” he whispered, his voice rough from sleep.

“Mmm?” you replied quietly.

He glanced at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How long have I been asleep?”

You turned away quickly. “Not long.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“No. No.” Your face burned red with embarrassment. “I was just thinking.”

Jongho turned onto his back again and put his arm over his eyes. “About what?”

“Nothing important.” You ducked your head. “Just my mind wandering. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He lifted his hand and lightly stroked your hair. “If you ever need to talk…”

You smiled softly. “I know.”

You laid there in silence, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, remembering all the times you were alone in your bed, wishing for someone to come in and comfort you.

You’re no longer alone.

You opened your mouth to say something, to tell him how much you appreciated him, but before you could say anything, his fingers traced their way along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver. “Why do you look so beautiful while you’re sleeping?”

You laughed nervously. “Do I? Why?”

“Because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

With each word he spoke, your body felt like it was going numb. You reached for him, wanting desperately to hold him, to kiss him, but instead you simply laid your head against his chest, letting your fingers trail through his hair. You listened to the sound of his heartbeat, comforting and steady. The only sounds you heard were your own breath and Jongho’s quiet breathing. It was blissful in its simplicity, yet it felt like everything you needed to be happy.

Eventually, you fell asleep.

When you woke up again, it was still dark outside. Your eyelids were heavy and you could barely keep them open, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep if you waited any longer. So you stretched and got up from the bed, looking around the room for something to wear. All you could find was a white robe draped over a chair near the foot of the bed. Sheathing yourself in it, you went downstairs to see Jongho sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV. He gave you a smile when he saw you. “Good morning.”

You walked over to him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“I slept well.” His cheeks flushed and he looked away, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. He patted the seat next to him. “Come here, babe.”

Feeling like you couldn’t turn down an invitation like that, you slid into the seat beside him. Jongho wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You laid your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. “Are you okay? You just seem out of sorts lately.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured. “It’s just been a long day.”

He nodded and kissed your head again. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“Maybe some coffee would be nice. And a kiss too.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah, I guess that would be alright.”

Jongho kissed your cheek once more and got up off the couch, heading towards the kitchen. You watched him go, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds casting a warm glow on his handsome face.

His black hair framed his features, brushing his eyebrows. He caught you staring and blushed, turning around. As he poured you a cup of coffee, you admired his broad shoulders, admiring the muscles flexing as he lifted the kettle. He turned around again, holding two cups of steaming hot liquid in his hands. One for himself and one for you.

“Here you go.” He sat the cups down on the table in front of you. Settling back in his seat, he softly kissed your lips. “Feel better?”

“Better.” You murmured against his lips. “So much better.”

He kissed you again and you leaned into his embrace, enjoying the warmth of his arms surrounding you. After several minutes, he pulled away, looking at his watch. “Oh, it’s that time already. I need to head out to work.”

“Can’t you skip work today?” You pouted.

“As much as I want to stay home with you, it isn’t possible. Sorry, baby.” Jongho leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss him again.

As he headed out the door, you lingered in the doorway, watching him walk down the steps. “Have a good day.”

“Bye, babe.” He waved as he stepped outside. The door closed and you found yourself all alone again. Looking around the room, you noticed a notepad sitting on the countertop of the kitchen. Glancing down, you saw Jongho’s neat handwriting scribbled across the page. You smiled, picking it up and opening it. A simple message that told you that he loves you and that he hopes you’ll have a good day.

The perfect reminder of why you fell in love with him.

You heard a ’whoosh’ from behind you and you didn’t even have to turn around to know what, or rather who, it was.

“Greetings, General Seonghwa.” You turned to look at the person that had magically popped into your living room. General Seonghwa, a divine being that you have known for centuries, stood silently in the middle of the room. He looked exactly as he did the last time you saw him, save for the fact that he seemed a little tired. “Thank you for gracing me with your presence and not showing up when he was still here.”

“This new mortal looks like the one that you fell in love with. The same one that you broke the rules for. The same one that got you banished.” Seonghwa walked towards you slowly, stopping right in front of you. You could see the concern in his eyes as he gazed down at you. “The Heavenly Emperor is worried about you.”

“If the Heavenly Emperor was worried about me, why did he banish me in the first place?” You asked, your voice trembling. “He banished me, General. His own daughter.”

Seonghwa shook his head sadly. “Even gods make mistakes.”

“Was it a mistake to fall in love?” You asked. “All the lesser gods and goddesses and other divine beings that cultivated into an immortal can fall in love. But a high goddess…no, the heavenly princess, the daughter of the Heavenly Emperor, can’t? That was my mistake, wasn’t it? That was my punishment.”

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “For being brave enough to show your true feelings? Being so stubborn that you’d risk everything for a mortal man?” He frowned. “There are worse things than getting banished by the Heavenly Emperor. Believe me, Princess Y/N. Your father did you a favor.”

“You think so?” You asked. “That’s all you have to say?”

Seonghwa stared down at you. “We were lovers once, weren’t we?”

You sighed heavily. “Yes. We were. But that was so long ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I suppose not.” He shrugged. “Still, I’m worried about you.”

“Why should you be?”

“Because you’ve fallen for this mortal.” Seonghwa said simply. “The mortal that looks like your first husband.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Why exactly are you here, Seonghwa?”

“The Heavenly Emperor has lifted your banishment. He wants you to return home.”

“After a hundred, no, a thousand years after he banished me, he decides that he wants me back?” You snorted derisively. “Sure, that makes sense.”

“Perhaps he feels bad for banishing you.” Seonghwa shrugged. “Regardless, he sent me to ask you to come back.”

You sighed. “Fine. Tell my father that I will be in the Celestial Realm shortly.”

Seonghwa nodded. “Will do, Princess.”

After you said your goodbyes, Seonghwa vanished without a trace. You looked at the clock that adorned the wall above the mantelpiece. There were still hours before Jongho got home from work. Going up to your bedroom to get changed, you knew that you had to go to the Celestial Realm sooner rather than later. To get everything over and done with.

You went back downstairs and looked at the notepad that was on the countertop. You scribbled a small message to Jongho just in case he came home early, saying that you’d be running errands and that you loved him.

You took a step back and knowing that your banishment was lifted, you felt your spiritual energy return to your body and then you found yourself walking into the Celestial Realm once more.

“Welcome home, Princess Y/N!” The heavenly guards shouted as you stared at the city of the Celestial Realm. Bright lights and colors danced and fluttered throughout the sky, bathing the city in a golden light. The buildings in the distance glistened in the sunlight, reflecting the brilliance of the heavenly moon. To the untrained eye, it appeared as though they were glowing from within.

You saw the other gods, goddesses, immortals and even dignities from each of the three realms: Celestial, Earthly and Underworld. Each of them were happy to see you return and as you made your way towards the Jade Palace, you were greeted with cheers and applause.

You held no emotion on your face. These were the same entities that exiled you in the first place. You still hated them, and their attitude still pissed you off.

But you didn’t care anymore. In the beginning, you had hoped that you could prove to your father that mortals are worthy of being treated as equals. That love between humans and immortals could flourish and bloom into a beautiful flower. That love conquers all, and those sentiments remain unchanged. Even after everything that happened to you, you still believed in the human heart and its ability to open up to others, to accept others, regardless of their differences.

And now you had Jongho. The mortal that opened your heart and healed the wounds that had lingered inside of you for a millennium. The mortal that showed you what unconditional love really meant.

When you reached the Jade Palace, you followed the servants through the lavish halls and up the stairs until you finally arrived at the top floor. There sat the Heavenly Emperor, your father, imposingly on his throne. With his long, graying hair tied into a topknot and secured with an intricate gold ornament, he sat tall and proud, his white robe billowing out behind him.

Beside him was Empress Jihyun, your mother, clad in luxurious white robes. “Welcome home, my daughter. We have missed you.” Her face broke into a smile as she beckoned for you to join her. She wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. “It’s good to have you home again.”

“Likewise, Mother.” You returned her hug and glanced at the other members of the court.

They bowed deeply to you, grateful that you were back. The emperor raised his hand and the entire Jade Palace came to a halt. All eyes turned to him.

“My dearest daughter, you have been gone for far too long. I thought I would never see you again.” His deep voice boomed throughout the palace. “Are you well?”

“I am fine, Father.” You replied.

His gaze softened and a gentle smile appeared on his face. “I have waited for this moment for many, many years.” He chuckled softly. “So I hope you understand why I feel relieved to have you back under my roof.”

He stood up and clasped your hand in his. “Come, let us retire to my private chambers. There, I shall tell you of how your banishment ended and how you came to be summoned back here.”

You stayed rooted to your spot, the other members of the court leaving. You took a deep breath and looked at your father. “Father, I can’t stay long.”

“Why not?” Your mother asked, looking at your father. “You just got back home.”

“You know why. I can’t just leave Jongho there waiting for me.” You said, looking down at the floor. “Time works differently between here and the Earthly Realm. What could be hours or days here are like years…I can’t do that to him. He needs me.”

“You wish to go back?” Your father asked. “Return to the Earthly Realm?”

You looked at your father. You couldn’t lie to him. Could you?

“Yes.” You breathed. “I wish to go back.”

Your father sighed. “You’d throw away your second chance at godhood, to finally be home, for a mortal man?”

“Yes, Father. Yes, I would. And I would do it all over again if I had to.” You let out a deep breath. “After thousands of years loving different mortals, Jongho is different. I don’t want to keep going through the motions. After everything that happened to me, he helped heal my heart. He gave me hope that things could be different. He gives me strength to move forward and find happiness again. I love him. Father, don’t you care about my happiness? Don’t you care about your daughter?”

Your father remained silent, thinking. Finally, he lowered his head and sighed. “You have become much stronger since you left, child. Much more compassionate and caring. You have shown me what unconditional love truly means. And while I may not agree with your decision, I cannot deny that you love him dearly. But you also need to realize that this decision won’t be easy. You’re a goddess and he’s a mortal. He will grow old and die, but you…you’ll remain young and vibrant forever. Your world will always be upside down and chaotic. Why put yourself through such hardship?”

“You haven’t seen how beautiful our relationship is. Our ups and downs, our joys and sorrows. Even when times are rough, we pull through. We’re better together.” You smiled sadly. “And if we could be together forever, wouldn’t you want that too?”

“Of course I would.” Your father replied. “I only want what’s best for you.”

“My love,” your mother laid a hand on your father’s arm. “I know that it’s unheard of, but why don’t we grant this man that our daughter is in love with, immortality? Give him an eternal life with her, as your son.”

Your father stiffened. “Impossible.”

“If you do that, perhaps you could persuade her to stay.” Your mother pleaded. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”

“Do you really love this man?” Your father demanded.

“I love him with all of my heart.” You answered simply. “And I promise that he loves me just as much. If I have to be banished by the heavens to keep him, then I would gladly do it all over again.”

“How do you know that he will even accept this?” Your father pressed. “What if he refuses? What happens then?”

“Then let me go back so that I can tell him. At least then, I’ll have tried.” You crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly. “I refuse to spend another day living this miserable existence alone. I am tired of watching people I care about die around me. Living a life without love. So please, let me try. Let me take this chance.”

“Alright.” Your father nodded slowly. “If this is what you truly want, then we will give it to you.” He patted your shoulder lightly and kissed your forehead gently. “However, there is one condition.”

“Name it.” You sighed.

“If he decides to become an immortal to be with you, then he will marry you. The marriage will be binding in all worlds, mortal and divine.”

“Thank you, Father. Thank you, Mother.” You smiled and threw your arms around them both. They hugged you back tightly. “Jongho and I will make sure to show you that our love will last a lifetime.”

“We look forward to seeing that.” You father waved you off. “Now go before I change my mind.”

“We look forward to meeting our future son-in-law.” Your mother laughed.

“Go and tell him.” Your father urged. “We await his reply.”

You let out a sigh as you plopped on the couch once you returned home from the Celestial Realm. You leaned against the cushions and closed your eyes.

This was a good start. Things seemed to have gone well, considering your fate.

That didn’t mean that things were completely rosy though. You still had to convince Jongho that he should choose to live an eternity with you, instead of continuing his earthly existence. Even though you wanted to stay by his side, you knew that the decision rested solely on his shoulders.

“I’m home!”

You blinked your eyes open. Jongho entered the room with a bright smile on his face. “Hi, babe.”

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a kiss. “How was work?”

“Tiring.” He replied with a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

“You must be drained.” You stroked his hair affectionately. “Why don’t you rest for a bit and I’ll fix dinner?”

“Okay, baby.” He leaned down to peck your lips again. “I’ll be right back.”

He ran off towards the bedroom, and soon you heard the water running in the bathroom. Once the bathroom door closed, you hurried into the kitchen and began cooking.

The aroma of food wafted through the house, and soon the delicious smell of sweet potatoes filled the air. Jongho walked in wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He wrapped his arms around, placing his chin on your shoulder as he watched you cook.

“It smells amazing, babe.” He murmured, kissing your cheek.

“Go get dressed.” You giggled. “You’re being a distraction.”

“What about you?” He cocked his head curiously. “You look hot enough to eat.”

“Jongho!” You blushed furiously and swatted him playfully. “Later. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“I’ll be right back.” He grinned, winking at you before exiting the room.

Once you finished preparing the meal, you called Jongho into the dining room where you had prepared two plates. “Here.” You handed him the plate and watched as he sat down across from you.

“Thank you, babe.” He smiled at you gratefully.

“Anything for you.” You winked and tucked some strands of hair behind your ear. “Eat up.”

Jongho picked up his fork and started eating. When he was halfway through his meal, you decided to ask him a question that had been weighing heavily on your mind. “Jongho?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m not of this world?”

“Y/N, I know that you’re not of this world.” He reached across the table to grab your hand in his. “I’ve always known that. Ever since we met.”

“You have?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah.” He nodded his head. “I knew there was something special about you when I first walked into that cafe for the very first time. There was something…magical about you. Something that drew me in. That made me forget about everything else and fall hopelessly in love with you.”

A warm feeling settled in your stomach as you felt Jongho squeeze your hand.

“Before I met you, every night I would have these dreams of you and I. Wearing clothes from ancient civilizations.” He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb. “Dreams of you and I walking through lush green fields of flowers, at the marketplace eating honey roasted nuts and candied fruits. The scent of jasmine drifting through the air as we walk along the shore of a crystal clear lake. Dreams of holding you in my arms while we danced together under the moonlight. It was magical and felt so real.”

“Oh Jongho…” You squeezed his hand harder.

“Then you showed up.” He swallowed hard. “When I walked into that café, my heart stopped beating for a moment. A whole eternity passed inside of that instant. I knew that you were real and not just some dream. You were real and so beautiful.”

His words melted your heart. How did you get so lucky? How did you ever deserve this?

“I thought I was going crazy.” He took a deep breath. “Falling for someone whom I just met. But it felt like I’ve known you forever. Like I’ve always known you. All those strange dreams that I’ve been having finally made sense. Every dream of us together was a memory. Memories of us being together long ago. Before this modern age. Back in a time when the world was full of magic and mystery. Memories of our past lives, where we were lovers and soulmates.”

“Really?” You let out a small sob. “You remember all of that? Our memories? Our lives?”

“Yes, baby.” He breathed deeply. “I remember every second of it. Everything about you. I can’t imagine how lonely you must have felt without me. For centuries to pass without knowing if my reincarnated soul would find its way back to you. To see your soulmate being taken away from you because of that damned curse…”

He looked down at the plate in front of him.

“I promised myself that no matter what happened, I would find a way to save you.” He raised his head to stare into your eyes. “No matter what it takes, no matter how impossible it may seem, I will save you. No matter how much pain it brings upon myself. I will fight against the gods until the end of time if I have to. And I will never let anything or anyone separate us. Not even death itself.”

“Even if it means becoming an immortal yourself? Getting rid of your earthly existence?”

“There’s nothing I won’t sacrifice to be with you.” His voice shook. “To be able to wake up next to you every morning, and to lay my head down next to yours every night. To hold you in my arms and feel your heartbeat beneath my fingers. I will risk it all to have a life with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You spoke softly. “And neither are you.”

“I’m sorry.” Jongho sniffed, wiping the tears away from your eyes. “For everything you had to go through. For breaking the rules of heaven because of me. For falling in love with a mortal like me. For not being able to grow old with me.”

You pulled him closer and buried your face into his chest. “It’s okay.” You said with a smile. “I don’t regret loving you. You were the only man I ever loved, and you were the only one I ever needed. My heart belonged to you from the beginning. From the moment I laid eyes on you. I always knew that you would come back to me someday. It’s just that you got lost in the midst of our journey. But now that you found your way back, it feels like everything is coming full circle.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jongho mumbled, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you close. “But no matter what happens between us, even if this cycle continues, my soul belongs to you. You alone. Nothing will ever be able to take that away. You are my everything. I will always belong to you, my goddess. My heavenly princess. My eternal love.”

Your heart soared as he uttered those precious words to you. Words that you had always longed to hear from him. Words that your heart craved to hear over and over again. Now that you could finally hear them, you vowed to treasure them forever.

“Jongho…I…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words to say.

“Don’t worry, my love.” He cupped your face in his hands. “I know exactly what you want to say. You want me to marry you. Right?”

“Right.” You smiled and nodded.

Jongho reached into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. You gasped as you stared at it in awe.

“Oh Jongho, this is-”

“Shh.” He silenced you with a finger to your lips. “You’re supposed to be speechless.”

“Oops.” You cleared your throat, letting out a light laugh.

“Y/N, I will do anything and everything to be with you. Even if I have to become an immortal myself. As long as I have a chance to spend an eternity with you, then I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. You are the reason for my existence. The reason why I continue to exist after my death. So I promise to never leave you alone. Not even for a single day. Not even for a single moment. Forever and always, my love. You will always be the center of my universe.”

You stared at the ring in his palm. So elegant and exquisite. A shining reminder of your undying love for each other. A perfect symbol of your unbreakable bond.

“Marry me.” He whispered softly. “Become my wife. Be my everything. My eternal love.”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat had gone dry. You had never wanted anything more than to spend the rest of your life with Jongho by your side.

“Say yes.” He urged gently. “Please, baby. Please, say yes.”

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Yes, Jongho. I will be your wife. Your eternal love.”

Jongho smiled as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

“Now that we’ve gotten that settled, let’s celebrate.” He chuckled, pulling you into his arms. “Let me love you in ways that I have never done before.”

You moaned as you felt him lean forward and kiss you tenderly. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your hands through his hair, bringing him closer to you. Jongho kissed your lips passionately, devouring you with every kiss.

After several minutes, you broke the kiss. “Is this how you want to celebrate?” You asked with a smirk.

“Of course.” Jongho chuckled. “This is the best way to celebrate. Celebrating with you, celebrating our everlasting love.”

Jongho held his breath as you led him up the stairs of the Jade Palace and towards the Great Hall. Never in his entire life had he been so nervous.

“Are you nervous?” You asked him as you took his hand in yours.

“Nervous? What am I supposed to be nervous about?” He laughed nervously. “Baby, of course I’m nervous. I’m meeting your parents. You know, the ones that are the Heavenly Emperor and Empress?”

“I guess that makes sense.” You laughed. “Jongho, I’m right here with you. We’ll be fine.”

He sighed as he glanced down at your hand. Saw the way the diamond ring glistened against your skin.

“I just want you to know that I’m really happy that you’re here with me.” He said softly. “Because Y/N, without you, I wouldn’t be able to deal with meeting your parents. At least not alone.”

You smiled softly as you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You’re welcome.”

Jongho watched as you walked ahead of him. Taking in every step that you took, every movement that you made. Feeling as though he was entranced by you. Every time you took a step forward, he felt like his legs grew weaker. And every time you turned to look at him, he lost control of himself. Seeing you in your robes of white and gold silk, looking so ethereal and majestic as you walked ahead of him, left him speechless.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He whispered to himself as he followed you. “I love you so much, Y/N. More than anything else in this world.”

You smiled as you glanced over your shoulder and saw him watching you. Walking behind you slowly, unable to stop staring at your figure. The way your hair flowed gracefully behind you. The gentle sway of your hips as you walked. Each step sent waves of lust coursing through his veins. Making him ache for you. Make him crave you with every ounce of his being.

You couldn’t help but turn around to see if he was still following you. If he was thinking about you too.

“Come on, husband-to-be. Hurry up.” You called out, laughing quietly as he tried to adjust the white robes he originally hesitated to wear but wore them anyway to please you.

Jongho chuckled as he continued walking after you. Focusing his attention on you instead of the path in front of him. Just like how you used to walk ahead of him, stealing glances at him whenever he was near you. Always catching him off guard whenever he turned to look at you. Leaving him speechless and weak. You were so wonderful, so breathtaking, so intoxicating. And you made him want to surrender his very soul to you. Completely. Without hesitation.

A gentle breeze blew past your ears as you stood in the middle of the Jade Palace. The soft chirping of birds echoed throughout the palace. Flowers bloomed along the path, surrounding you with their sweet fragrance. Jongho smiled as he gazed at you, standing there so serenely. A vision of beauty that stole his heart away. You could easily pass for an angel if he didn’t know any better. But he did know better. He knew the truth. That you were far more than an angel. Far more than he could ever dream of.

You were his goddess, his heavenly princess. His eternal love.

You turned to look at him and giggled softly as he looked like he was having a hard time walking. The Jongho of centuries past would have had no problem in these clothes. He’d simply stride forward confidently. But this Jongho was slightly awkward in his white and gold robes. So clumsy and shy. So cute. You couldn’t help but giggle. This version of Jongho was quite endearing. A completely different person than the version you had fallen in love with years ago. And yet, you knew deep inside that this Jongho was the same man that you had fallen in love with from the start.

“Ready?” You asked, gently nudging him with your elbow.

Jongho gave you a sheepish grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You laughed as you led him into the Great Hall, entwining your fingers with his. You were glad that there was no else present apart from your parents. Just you and him. And you hoped that they liked him. Because you loved him with all of your heart. And he was the first man that you ever truly cared about.

“My lovely daughter, my soon to be son-in-law.” Empress Jihyun smiled warmly as she stood in front of you. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at you with love.

“Mother. Father.” You greeted respectfully before turning to look at Jongho. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, silently telling him that you were here with him. “This is the man that I love, Jongho. I lost him once, and now I’ve found him again. And I don’t intend to lose him again. He’s my life.”

The Heavenly Emperor, your father, nodded. Taking yours and Jongho’s hands in his own, he patted them reassuringly. “It has been far too long since I have seen my daughter smile like this. Welcome to our family, my son-in-law.”

You turned to gaze at Jongho, eyes filled with happiness from the words that your father had spoken. To hear that your father was accepting of him. With tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Hugging him tightly as you let go of all the pain and anguish that had consumed you over the years. All those times that you cried yourself to sleep because of the mistakes that you had made in the past. All the times that you wondered if you would ever find true love again. But now, with the return of your Jongho, you knew that you were finally home.

In just a few days, Jongho will become an immortal and live forever. You won’t need to worry about losing him anymore. Because you’ll be together forever. Together with your soul mate, and the one that you both had waited for your whole lives.

Your beloved Jongho.

#illusionnet #blossomnet #atzhouse #cromernet #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez fanfics #ateez stories #ateez jongho #choi jongho #jongho #jongho x reader

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a-cat-in-toffee · 9 months ago

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me: yeah im gonna go to sleep

also me: *proceeds to send my friend 650+ words of pepsisprite analysis*

thinking about john being a literal embodiment of the narrative and davesprite being an embodiment of the game. the game and the narrative are intrinsic to each other's existence, but without each other they would be useless. what's the point of the game if no ones watching, and whats the point of watching if no ones playing? john and davesprite’s relationship sort of mirrors that, davesprite wouldn't exist as a sprite if john had never died, but john WOULD have died if davesprite didnt save him. they're necessary to each other's creation and to each other's continued existence and relevance.

they're the world's shittiest soulmates because their relationship is so riddled with the game and narrative but davesprite and john are tied together in a way which ends up with davesprite always ending up right next to john again. johndirk and pepsisprite are very related what with davesprite mirroring dirk in a bunch of ways, but the difference between the two ships is mainly when they would happen imo. (canon) johndirk can only work postcanon, mostly because they simply don't actually get to meet each other until then, whereas pepsisprite HAS to happen during the game, the 3 year trip to be precise.

all they had were those 3 years together, really, before everything went to shit. obviously they had known each other before then, but that was john and dave. the "real" dave, before the specifications had to be made. it's kinda sad how because of the timeframe that pepsisprite would be able to work out in, they could never actually have a relationship. like they were both dealing with their own issues (most of which never were resolved, not fully) but it mightve fixed them tbh.

thats really why I'm a big fan of back to the beginning post game aus that include the splinters because their stories are never really completely resolved, most of them are sort of just brushed away or swept into something new (e.g. davepeta)

also going back to what I said earlier on how johndirk mirrors pepsisprite in a way, it does! but there's a lot of nuance to the situations? davesprite is more like bro than dave is, thus making him more like dirk, but he's still a dave yknow. pepsisprite is actually a closer parallel to jakehal, especially by the end of the boat trip with the vaguely antagonistic relationship the two of them have.

actually i think they should be kismesis sometimes as a treat. john has so much emotion and anger built up and having somewhere to vent out that frustration would probably be really good for him. at the same time, though, they're also moirails because john and dave are quite literally the closest humans can get to moirallegiance. john and davesprite transcend quadrants in the actual definition of it, embodying the quads all at once instead of vacillating.

davekat (a ship most people consider to embody all quads) sort of does something similar, however a lot of the time their characterization is of vacillation between redrom and blackrom vs where pepsisprite is happening simultaneously.

davesprite *is* proud of john and he does really love his friends, however because of the trauma he went through growing up (which was later reinforced by all the shit that went down in the game) he can only express so "ironically" or backhandedly, and john is so repressed to hell and back that *he's* not even sure what emotions he's feeling half the time

I think the fact that the two of them can so effortlessly communicate despite all that, though, really shows you their relationship. john can see the genuine in davesprite's "ironic" statements, and davesprite can pick out john's feelings through all the happy freedom bullshit. they communicate so well despite everything because they're best friends and because they've known each other so long. davesprite is important to john just like john is important to davesprite, and they always end up right back next to each other.

#john egbert #davesprite #johndavesprite #pepsisprite #homestuck #hs meta #homestuck meta #they never leave my fucking brain y'all

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warabidakihime · 1 year ago

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A Glimpse Beyond Grief: Chapter 1

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x Reader | Office AU | Both characters are in their early 30s | toji is good daddy in this uwu

Synopsis: galactically intertwined journey of two souls: one navigating the depths of loss, the other offering a beacon of healing. through witty banter and unspoken connections, they find solace in unexpected places, uncovering the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love to mend even the most shattered hearts.

Content warning: profanity, (eventual) smut, highkey adult themed, can be psychologically and emotionally triggering for some so read with caution.

A/N: there might be a few typos. will fix them once i get home later :D

Toji's integration into JJK Holdings marked the beginning of a positive turn for the company. His initial weeks on the job showcased not only his professional prowess but also his ability to seamlessly blend into the workplace culture. Armed with a wealth of experience and a versatile skill set, Toji quickly established himself as a valuable asset within the organization.

From the outset, Toji's work station was strategically placed right beside yours, a deviation from the conventional placement of executive assistants. This unique arrangement was a deliberate choice aimed at fostering efficient communication and easy accessibility.

The camaraderie between you and Toji flourished effortlessly. The rapport that began during his final interview continued to evolve positively. Both of you displayed a natural inclination for engaging conversations, creating an atmosphere that transcended the typical professional hierarchy. Toji, in particular, appreciated the pleasant surprise of a welcoming lunch on his first day, a gesture that left a lasting impression.

In the short span of a few weeks, Toji's impact on the company became palpable. Beyond his exceptional work outputs, his insights into critical business matters proved invaluable. This was evident in the recent town hall meeting where the Chief Human Resources Officer shared the news of a doubling in overall revenue for the previous month.

The positive momentum extended to JJK Holdings' first face-to-face event since the onset of the pandemic. Toji's involvement in the event planning proved instrumental, contributing significantly to its success. His presence didn't go unnoticed, as distinguished guests recognized him, leading to fruitful networking opportunities. Three guests were so impressed that they decided to form strategic partnerships with JJK Holdings, culminating in the signing of two partnership contracts just a week ago. Notably, one of these contracts involved Gojo Enterprise, a major player in property and real estate development led by Gojo Satoru, last year's most influential business tycoon in Asia.

Toji and Satoru's history goes way back to their college days, where they both vied for the title of their alma mater's most outstanding pupil. The dynamic between the two was vividly on display at the recent event. Picture this: you're with Nanami Kento, your Associate Director from the learning and development department, when Satoru's voice echoes across the venue, calling out Toji's name. Cue the nerve-wracking jump scare. Initially, you thought a fight was brewing, only to discover that it was just their peculiar way of interacting – a mix of banter and wrestling, to be precise.

Knowing Satoru's penchant for bickering, you should have seen it coming. After all, you and Satoru share a history from your master's degree days at the same school. Toji, despite his displeasure, didn't back down. Instead, he pulled Satoru into a headlock, leaving onlookers both horrified and confused. Satoru, in his typical fashion, grinned like a madman while being manhandled by the visibly muscular Toji.

The second company to approach you wasn't after a partnership but sought to leverage your organization's services. Ms. Ieri Shoko, Founder, and CEO of CureWave Pharmaceuticals expressed interest in tapping into your talent acquisition expertise to aid in their expansion across Japan and other parts of Asia. Interestingly, Shoko is more than just a business contact; she's a childhood friend. In your earlier years, you contemplated a career in healthcare, a path Shoko embraced. However, your journey led you to oversee a human capital solutions company, a role uncertainly assumed, but one you inherited through your grandparents. JJK Holdings, established by them, became your responsibility upon your grandfather's passing. His trust in your skills, coupled with being his favorite grandchild, added a layer of significance to your role.

As the Executive Director in your third year, the organization has already soared under your leadership. With Toji now at your side, the potential for further growth feels limitless.

"Hey, Toji, mind if I ask you something?" you called out from your desk, amidst the task of arranging a meeting with your group heads.

"You're already asking a question," Toji retorted playfully. Without looking, you could almost picture the smug smirk he wore, prompting a playful eye roll from you.

Amidst crafting an email blast for event attendees, Toji's concentration broke with the sound of your voice. The email aimed to express gratitude and nurture potential collaborations by promptly reaching out to leads. You had instructed Toji to compose it, pending your approval for scheduling at the most opportune time.

"So, what's on your mind?" Toji inquired, stretching from his desk after finishing the emails.

"Before joining us, you applied to other companies, right?" you queried.

"Yeah, I did. Why?" Toji replied.

Tilting your head, your lips formed a pout of mild confusion. "Well, you mentioned that it took you five months to secure a job here. It's a bit puzzling considering your impressive credentials and the fact that esteemed business leaders know you and hold you in high regard."

Toji chuckled. "Well, the companies I applied to couldn't meet my salary expectations, or a handful of them thought I was overqualified. They appreciated my qualifications, but when it came to negotiating compensation, they hesitated to match my preferred amount. Truth be told, I actually undersold myself when applying here, just so I could finally land a job."

"Wait, really?" Your voice carried a note of astonishment as you processed his revelation.

Toji leaned back, a sheepish grin crossing his face as he shrugged. "Yeah, really. I guess I was just tired of the constant rejections and decided to take a chance here."

You shook your head with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "So, you basically tricked us into hiring you for a bargain?"

His laughter filled the air, a warm and genuine sound that lightened the atmosphere. "Well, 'tricked' might be a strong word. Let's just say I saw an opportunity and seized it. And I've got no regrets."

"Unbelievable," you chuckled, shaking your head once more. "I can't decide if you're audacious or clever."

"To be fair, it worked out well for both parties," Toji remarked, his tone still lighthearted. "I landed a job, and you got yourself a skilled team member."

Leaning back in your chair, you wore a thoughtful expression. "True. But just remember, Toji, next time we negotiate your salary, I won't let you get away so easily."

Toji raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, really? And here I was hoping for a lifetime of discounted employment."

The air was light with laughter, the bond between you and Toji growing with every shared moment. As the laughter subsided, Toji's playful demeanor shifted, and his expression turned earnest. "I owe you, you know. You saved my ass."

You tilted your head, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. "Consider it part of the 'discounted employment' package: endless gratitude and the occasional coffee run for the boss."

Toji's eyes widened in feigned shock. "A catch! I knew it. But a few cups of coffee are a small price for salvation."

Another burst of laughter echoed in the room, creating a momentary bubble of warmth. When it settled, you rose from your chair, stretching fatigued limbs. "Speaking of coffee, it’s midday. Care to join me for a cup?" you proposed, approaching his desk.

"Sure. Just need to wrap up this draft," Toji replied, his focus on the monitor. You positioned yourself beside him, your arm casually draped over his office chair, and your gaze fell upon the email drafts. A smile danced on your lips. His eloquence shone brightly in his words.

"Hey, big guy, you've got a typo right here," you observed, pointing out the minor error.

"Woops. Don’t deduct that from my paycheck. I’ll do better next time, boss." Toji joked, earning a playful smack on his shoulders from you. Laughter spilled through the office, infusing it with a comfortable warmth.

"Oh, you can be sure I'll be cashing in that favor at the most unexpected moment," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice.

Toji chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I'll be ready and waiting, boss."

With a final shared grin, you both headed for the office exit. The break room was close, and the idea of a hot cup of coffee was too tempting to resist. As you walked, conversation flowed effortlessly from work matters to lighter topics, deepening the camaraderie.

In the break room, you both fixed your preferred brews, the coffee scent filling the air as you leaned against the counter. Toji took a sip, visibly pleased.

"This is the real fuel that keeps me going," he quipped, nodding at his cup.

You raised yours. "To caffeine, the unsung hero of productivity."

Cups clinked, laughter followed. Even with the gloomy weather outside, the cheerful vibe persisted. Amidst sips, you found a brief respite from work.

"I hope the rain stops soon. It’s been raining for a while, right?" you observed, looking at the raindrops against the window. Toji agreed.

"Yeah, I'm hoping for that too. Traveling is a hassle in the rain. Traffic becomes unbearable, and I end up getting home late," Toji shared, a touch of discomfort in his expression.

Curious about his family life, you asked, "When you work on-site, who takes care of your kids?"

"My in-laws. They're nearby, so they help with the kids when I'm here."

Nodding, you said, "It's nice that you have a good relationship with your in-laws."

"I owe them a lot. They took care of Megumi and Tsumiki when I was still grieving over my wife," Toji shared, taking another sip.

A warm smile appeared as you asked, "You have two daughters?"

Toji chuckled and shook his head. "No, I have a daughter and a son. I named him 'Megumi' to signify his role as a blessing in our lives. It might sound sentimental, but during my wife's pregnancy with him, there were more challenges compared to when she was expecting our daughter. The doctor mentioned a high risk for both him and my wife. He was also born prematurely and had to spend some time in the NICU after his birth."

As Toji delved into his personal life, his gaze became distant, as if he were revisiting memories, both joyful and painful. His storytelling held an inexplicable allure, captivating you. You felt drawn to his narrative, like a moth to a flame, and in this scenario, Toji was the flame.

Attempting to suppress the fluttering butterflies proved futile; the more you resisted, the stronger your heart's rhythm echoed, amplifying the emotions welling up inside you as you looked at your right-hand man. It wasn’t entirely your fault – the guy was undeniably attractive. His face, his hair, and, oh god, his physique. You had to avert your eyes during his final interview. And his voice? Unbelievable. You didn’t mean to ogle at somebody else’s husband, but damn.

Meanwhile, Toji grappled with a whirlwind of emotions—longing, shame, sadness, hope, and confusion. His wife remained a sensitive subject, yet he found himself freely discussing her with you. It was only the second time her name had come up in your conversations, yet there was a growing sense of comfort in sharing his feelings with you.

Toji spent a significant amount of time deciphering the emotions within him. He concluded that what he felt towards you was akin to the "suspension bridge effect." Amidst grappling with depression, grief, and a string of job rejections, you emerged as his unexpected savior. You became the catalyst that propelled him from point A to point B. Not that he was financially destitute during his unemployment period—quite the opposite. However, successive setbacks left him grappling with a sense of inadequacy.

In essence, you helped him put his life back in motion.

However, even after settling on this conclusion, he couldn't deny the palpable connection between the two of you. Toji was certain that you felt it too. Yet, like him, you were navigating the maze of your own emotions. For all he knew, you had your own personal circumstances. But when the day arrived for both of you to face each other and your burgeoning feelings, Toji was more than willing to explore that with you.

"How old is Megumi now?" you inquired curiously. Toji responded with a gentle, paternal smile: "He's turning eight in three months."

"Really? Can I..." Your voice trailed off, gradually growing softer. Toji noticed the change and turned his gaze toward you, silently encouraging you to continue. Meeting his eyes, you found the strength to speak once more: "Can I give him a birthday gift?"

"Absolutely, you're more than welcome to," Toji chuckled, placing his empty cup aside.

You smiled and said, "Please tell me what he likes, so I can get the right gift for him."

"Try books. He loves to read," Toji said, then shortly after, a laugh slipped through his lips as he thought of something about his son, "From the amount of content he’s consumed through reading, he’s becoming a smartass by the day, though it’s also safe to say he got that part of his personality from me."

"Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised," you teased, earning a cheeky squeeze on your sides.

If it weren’t for your lightning reflexes, you would have coffee spilled all over you. "Hey! Watch it!" You said to him, but your tone and delivery sounded anything but annoyed.

If anything, the gesture made your heart jump. In just a short period of time, the two of you became so close that you're comfortable poking each other and addressing one another without any honorifics. The line between superior and subordinate has vanished. It's not that you're uptight about superiority, but rather that your relationship has evolved beyond traditional hierarchies.

After the incident, something clicked, and you realized that the crush you've been harboring for Toji had finally taken hold. Much to your dismay (or not.) His demeanor that day completely enchanted you, and it's fair to say he effortlessly charmed his way into your heart without even trying.

The question now is: will you act on these feelings and pursue him?

The honest truth is, you're not quite sure, at least not yet. It's clear that Toji still holds onto the memories of his late wife, and you want to be respectful of that. At this point, you believe it's best to let things unfold naturally and see where life takes the two of you.

"So, you're ready to go back?" Toji inquired, turning to you after washing his cup.

You nodded and rinsed yours as well, saying, "Yup, let's head back."

After a much-needed caffeine refill, you both returned to your office to resume your tasks. Engrossing conversations about everything under the sun filled the day. Time flew by rapidly as you became absorbed in both work and dialogue. When you eventually checked your phone, it was already 5:00 p.m.

Toji stood up, stretching for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. "I hope the traffic isn't too bad," he commented, glancing out the window to check if the rain had stopped, thankfully finding that it had.

"Perhaps you should consider moving closer to the office," you suggested as you organized your belongings. "That way, you won't have to worry about heavy traffic or long travel times."

"I am considering that, but the kids are still in school," Toji replied, "so I might have to wait until the school year's over before we can move."

"I suppose moving abruptly would also stress them out."

"Yeah, that's another factor. Well, are you ready to go?" Toji asked, standing by the door while waiting for you to finish gathering your things.

"Yeah, let's—"

"Y/N."

A deep, commanding voice suddenly resonated within your once peaceful office. Upon hearing it, you stood frozen in place, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons, all of which didn't go unnoticed by your executive assistant, and his eyes trailed to the man standing by your office door.

After a few seconds, you begrudgingly decided to acknowledge your visitor.

"Kenjaku."

#warabidakihime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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that1emowitch · 8 months ago

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Guilt

A/N: This was the result of a horribly vivid series of nightmares and daydreams I had. Kinda raw in some areas. T/W: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence Set after UTRH, in an AU where Bruce isn't a shitty Dad and Dick didn't know about Jason being Hood.

Word Count: 11152

The dull ache behind Dick's eyes felt like a constant thrumming in his skull. It wasn't a headache, not exactly, but a dull, throbbing reminder of the fragmented sleep he'd wrestled with all night. Images flickered at the edges of his mind, fleeting and nonsensical, the aftertaste of a nightmare he couldn't quite grasp.

He was both grateful and terrified that he couldn’t remember the nightmare.

He was better off in this void, just floating, disconnected, not real…

RING!!!!

The shrill blare of the alarm ripped him fully awake, a jolt that sent a tremor through his already strained muscles. He swatted at it blindly, silencing the insistent shriek. The harsh light of dawn filtered through the blinds, painting sickly yellow stripes across the rumpled sheets.

He stared at the ceiling, the white plaster a stark contrast to the leaden weight in his chest. His mind, usually a whirlwind of thoughts and plans, was a vacant lot. No playful banter with himself, no strategising for the upcoming day. Just… nothing.

There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. He knew that. His body ached in a way that transcended physical exertion, a deep, bone-deep weariness that lingered even after the adrenaline of the night had faded. He couldn't remember what had woken him, the nightmare a fleeting memory already dissolving into the fog of exhaustion.

He didn't need to remember, anyway. Nightmares were a part of the deal, these days. Unbidden companions in the lonely hours between sleep and wakefulness. With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick rolled onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around himself. He didn't move, didn't think, didn't even breathe deeply. He simply existed, a hollow shell adrift in a sea of grey.

RING!!!!!

The dull ache behind his eyes morphed into a throbbing pressure as the alarm screeched back to life. Dick flinched, a low moan escaping his lips. The sound was a physical assault, each insistent ring echoing in the hollow space of his skull.

A weight landed on his chest, accompanied by a wet tongue being dragged across his chin. Haley, his faithful Bitewing, had apparently decided Dick's alarm clock wasn't loud enough. He forced a weak smile, scratching behind the dog's ears and kissing her face. The familiar warmth of Haley's fur offered a flicker of comfort, but it wasn't enough to dispel the leaden weight pinning him to the bed.

He knew he should get up. He had work, he had gymnastics classes to teach, patrol later… But the thought of facing the day, all those people, felt like scaling Mount Everest in flip-flops. What happened to Extraverted Darling Dickie Grayson? He wondered momentarily.

Every fibre of his being screamed for just five more minutes, ten maybe, an eternity of oblivion beneath the covers. But he knew the world wouldn’t stop for him.

With a sigh that rattled his chest, Dick finally pushed himself upright. The world tilted slightly on its axis as the blood rushed back into his legs. He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the nightstand. His room mirrored the chaos within him. He’d never been a very clean person, but at least he tried. However, today, clothes were scattered across the floor, a half-eaten protein bar lay abandoned on the desk, and his Nightwing suit, lay carelessly crumpled on the chair like a discarded exoskeleton.

He should put that away later.

The kitchen beckoned with the promise of coffee, the lifeblood of heroes (or at least moderately functional ones). For a second a ghost of a smile played across his lips at the hypocrisy of it – he spent hours preaching to Tim to drink less coffee, and here he was.

But it vanished just as quickly. Even the mere thought of turning on the coffee maker, the measuring, the brewing, felt like an insurmountable task. His stomach rumbled in protest, a pathetic counterpoint to the exhaustion gnawing at him.

It’ll be fine, He told himself. I’ll just buy something to eat later.

He shuffled to the bathroom, the fluorescent light assaulting his already strained eyes. The face staring back from the mirror was pale, and drawn, with dark circles that seemed to have taken permanent residence under his eyes. It was a face he barely recognised, a face that held none of the usual spark, none of the cocky charm that had once been his trademark.

He splashed water on his face, the cold offering a temporary jolt. He looked away, refusing to acknowledge the haunted look in his reflection. There was no time for introspection, not now. He brushed his teeth with mechanical motions, the taste of toothpaste sharp and metallic on his tongue. Just get through the day, that was the plan. One step at a time. He repeated the mantra to himself, a silent plea in the face of overwhelming apathy.

Dick finished his bathroom routine, the harsh light revealing the full extent of the damage beneath his eyes. He looked older, wearier, a far cry from the ever-youthful Dick Grayson. Even Haley, usually a whirlwind of enthusiastic tail wags at the start of the day, sat by the door with a subdued thump of her tail. A pang of guilt stabbed at him. Haley deserved better than a shadow for a companion.

He knelt down, scratching her ears with a forced smile. "Hey girl, you feeling under the weather too?"

Haley licked his hand once, a gesture that felt more like sympathy than her usual exuberance. The decision hit him with the sudden clarity of a gunshot. He couldn't take care of Haley right now, not the way she deserved. Alfred, with his endless patience and love for all creatures, would be a far better guardian.

"Alright, girl," he said, his voice rough. "Looks like you're going to spend some time with Alfred for a while. He'll spoil you rotten, trust me."

Haley tilted her head, a flicker of something akin to understanding passing through her intelligent brown eyes. Dick clipped on her leash, the familiar weight a grounding presence. “Don’t worry,” He whispered, trying to keep his voice light. Dogs hear emotion, not words, he reminded himself. “We’re still going for our walk!”

Dick brought Haley on their usual round through the nearby dog park. It was quite deserted today. Dick found himself thanking the heavens for that. It passed in a blur, and before he knew it Haley was leading him back to their apartment building.

As they walked out of the lift on Dick’s floor, Mrs Sanchez, their friendly neighbour, stopped him in the hallway.

"Dick Grayson! My goodness, you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Dick's stomach lurched. He plastered on a smile, the effort a physical strain. "Ha! Just a late night, Mrs. Sanchez. Nothing a good old cup of coffee can't fix, right?" His voice sounded too high-pitched, too strained even to his own ears.

Mrs. Sanchez peered at him with a look of concern that scraped against his already frayed nerves. He needed to get out of there, fast.

"Well, don't you push yourself too hard, young man. We all need to take care of ourselves sometimes."

Dick mumbled a goodbye, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He couldn't handle her well-meaning concern, not now. He reached his apartment door, the key feeling like a foreign object in his hand.

A single glance at his reflection in the hallway mirror was all it took. The dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises, stark against his pale skin. Panic surged through him. He couldn't let anyone see him like this.

He darted back into the apartment, his heart hammering in his chest. Reaching for his makeup bag, something Roy and Wally had once gifted him as a joke, he applied concealer with trembling hands. The product did little to mask the exhaustion etched into his face, but at least it offered a thin veil of normalcy.

He could pretend to be your average 22-year-old, living alone and juggling two jobs. Not a… whatever he was.

He couldn't let the exhaustion show. He squared his shoulders, a mask of forced cheer replacing the despair that threatened to consume him. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Just get through the day.

Dick emerged into the gymnastics centre, the mask snapping into place as quickly as he shut the door behind him. A charming smile played on his lips as he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lee, parents of one of his young students. The practised ease of his interactions with the neighbourhood was a comfort he clung to.

Inside the bustling gym, Dick was a whirlwind of encouragement. He coached flips, offered playful corrections, and high-fived successes. He was the embodiment of a patient, enthusiastic mentor – everything Tim would bluntly call "excessively cheerful, but very Dick Grayson."

But beneath the surface, his mind was a warzone. The exhaustion from the night pressed down on him like a heavy cloak, making his movements sluggish and his words stilted. He felt like a shell going through the motions, a hollow imitation of his usual vibrant self.

Then, a voice shattered the fragile illusion.

"Hey, Mr. Grayson! You know, you kinda remind me of someone," chimed in a bright-eyed seven-year-old named Ethan, mid-somersault.

Dick froze. Remind him of someone? A smile strained on his face. "Oh really? Who's that, buddy?"

"My big brother, Jason! He used to come here and watch me practice sometimes. Before you came here. He’s way cooler than you, though," Ethan declared with a mischievous grin.

The air in the room seemed to thin, the noise fading into a background hum. In Ethan's place, Dick saw a horrifying image – a lifeless Jason, his once-vibrant eyes vacant beneath a bloody hood. The memory, sharp and sudden, ripped a gasp from his throat.

He stumbled back, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a choked sob. "Woah there, Ethan! Don't flatter me too much!" He ruffled the boy's hair, desperately trying to regain his composure. "Jason was one of a kind, that's for sure."

“Was?” Ethan’s brows furrowed. “He’s not dead, he’s just in college.”

“Yeah, that— sorry,” Dick stumbled over his words, quickly leaving Ethan’s side to correct another little girl’s somersault, desperate to distract himself.

But the vision lingered, a dark stain on the periphery of his vision. His smile felt brittle, his cheer forced. The mask he wore felt suffocating, amplifying the growing emptiness inside.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could feel was a crushing weight of guilt.

He'd failed Jason. He'd failed to protect him. And now, what about Tim? Would he fail him too?

The question echoed in the hollow space where his joy used to reside, leaving him numb and utterly alone.

The final whistle blew, signalling the end of the class. The excited chatter of the children faded as they filed out, leaving Dick feeling like a deflated balloon. He knelt down, forcing a smile as he helped Ethan onto his feet. "Good job today, champ! Keep practising those flips!"

Ethan grinned, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Dick. As the last child left, Dick slumped onto a padded mat, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of the day pressing down. He couldn't stay here, not now. He needed to see Tim, needed to know his only remaining little brother was alright.

He drove back to his apartment, a restless energy coursing through him. Leaving Haley behind felt wrong, but he knew Alfred would be happy to have her company. As he packed a duffel bag with essentials, a dark thought flickered across his mind. Why would Alfred be happy? Lately, Dick had barely visited, and hadn't even returned Alfred's texts.

Pushing the thought aside, he loaded Haley into the car, patting her head reassuringly. "Hey girl, we're going on a little trip. You're gonna be staying with Grandpa Alfie for a while, alright?"

Haley whined softly, sensing his distress. Dick scratched behind her ears, offering a weak smile. "It'll be fun, trust me. Alfred has the best treats."

He drove ‘till evening, the familiar Gotham skyline rising on the horizon as dusk approached. Dick felt a tremor of apprehension run through him. He hadn't visited the Manor unannounced in years, not since his last fight with Bruce… he shut that door in his mind with a slam.

Parking the car in the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He rang the doorbell, the familiar chime echoing through the silent house. The door creaked open, revealing a smiling Alfred.

"Master Dick! What a pleasant surprise!" Alfred exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with seemingly genuine joy. Dick blinked, surprised by the warmth in Alfred's voice. Had he missed a birthday? Some family event?

"Hey, Alfred," Dick managed, forcing a smile.

"Come in, come in, Master Dick. It's good to see you. I was just about to start making dinner." Alfred bustled around, ushering Dick inside. The familiar scent of freshly chopped vegetables and baked bread filled the air, a comfort he hadn't realised he craved.

As Dick settled into a chair, Haley nudged his hand with her wet nose. "Oh dear," Alfred said, spotting Haley. "It seems you've brought a guest."

Dick sighed. "Yeah, about that… I'm going to be a bit… unavailable for the next few weeks. I was hoping you could look after Haley?" Shame burned in his throat as the words left his mouth. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not yet. He shouldn’t even be asking Alfred for help; he’d raised Dick out of kindness and obligation to Bruce, not because he genuinely wanted to. He shouldn’t be forcing this on the already overworked man.

Alfred knelt and scratched Haley behind the ears, the dog wagging her tail enthusiastically. "Of course, Master Dick. I'd be happy to. In fact, it will be nice to have some company around the house. It's been a bit… quiet lately."

Dick's heart clenched. Was that Alfred's way of asking him to return? He couldn't say anything. Not yet. "Thanks, Alfred. I… appreciate it. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Now, now, Master Dick. You focus on whatever you need to do. You just let me know when you plan to be back."

Dick nodded, unable to meet Alfred's gaze. "Yeah, I'll let you know."

He spotted a bowl of little sweets set near the kitchen counter, likely for Tim or Steph when they passed by. He considered popping one in his mouth, if only to maintain his carefree and playful persona, but eventually decided against it. He couldn’t stomach putting something in his mouth, he felt like he’d throw up.

Instead, Dick rose from his seat, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The playful charade felt hollow on his tongue, the thought of a fake snack turning his stomach. The sweets felt almost cruel, taunting him like that.

Clearing his throat, he forced out a question, "Uh, Alfie, do you know where Tim's at?"

Alfred paused in his chopping, a knowing look settling on his face. "Master Tim is in the Batcave, Master Dick. Said he was catching up on some case files."

A wave of relief washed over Dick. Tim was safe. He was here. But the relief was tinged with a prickling unease. He hadn't spoken to Tim in weeks, hadn't even bothered to return his texts. All that, after promising himself he’d take care of his little brother this time. Guilt gnawed at him, a familiar sensation these days.

He nodded stiffly. "Thanks, Alfred."

He made his way towards the Batcave, each step a descent into the familiar yet intimidating haven.

The cave door hissed open, revealing Tim hunched over a holographic computer and newspaper clippings, brow furrowed in concentration. He looked pale, too thin for a 14-year-old, but his eyes held a familiar fiery determination.

Dick stood there for a moment, the cavernous space suddenly deafening with silence. He wanted to apologise, to explain, to offer some semblance of support. But the words wouldn't come. The weight of his own struggles seemed to constrict his throat.

Tim finally looked up, startled at his presence. "Dick? What are you doing here?"

The question hung in the air, raw and accusatory.

"I, uh…" Dick stammered, the cavernous space amplifying the awkwardness. "Just checking in. Making sure you're, uh, doing okay."

Tim stared at him for a beat, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, I'm fine," he finally said, a touch too quickly. He turned back to the holographic display, dismissing Dick with a finality that stung.

“So, what’re you up to?” He tried to keep up the conversation, not let this light fade.

Tim’s brows furrowed ever so slightly, the way they did when Tim was annoyed but masking it. “Just working on some case files,” He answered after a beat. He returned to his files, the awkward silence stretching between them. Dick had always been the one to fill silences, to crack jokes, to bridge the gap between them. But today, the words were locked away, a prisoner in his own mind.

Dick felt a strange sense of vertigo. He, the usually charming, charismatic Dick Grayson, was at a loss for words. It was a feeling so foreign, so unsettling, it made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

The weight of his helplessness was crushing. Here he was, the supposed older brother, and Tim was the one holding it together. It should have been the other way around.

Suddenly, an impulse seized Dick. He leaned down, ruffling Tim's hair with a gentleness that surprised even him. "I love you, Timbo," he choked out, the words thick with unspoken emotions.

Tim froze, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I… love you too, Dick," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Dick straightened, a strange emptiness settling in his gut. Was that all there was to say? Where were the heartfelt conversations, the shared anxieties, the bond they used to have? He was lost, adrift in a sea of his own making.

"Alright, well, uh… I'll see you around," Dick stammered, the awkwardness hanging heavy in the air. He beat a hasty retreat from the Batcave, the silence following him like a phantom.

As he emerged into the Manor he spotted the last rays of evening sun disappearing through the windows. It was getting late; He couldn’t drive back to Bludhaven and make it to patrol tonight. He sighed. Guess he’d stay at the Manor tonight.

Then another thought hit him. Bruce.

Bruce was right here, in this house. Dick couldn’t handle another argument with his foster father tonight, he’d finally lose it.

He wouldn't see Bruce. No, not tonight. He wasn't ready for that conversation, not until he understood the storm raging within himself. Tonight, he just needed a place to crash, a roof over his head.

With a sigh, he headed to his old room at the Manor. He passed by the kitchen, just to tell Alfred he wasn’t very hungry, that he’d eaten on the drive to Gotham. Then he retreated to his bed, setting an alarm to wake up right before patrol.

The trapeze stretched endlessly above a churning abyss. Below, the wind howled, whipping Dick’s hair into his eyes. A sickening fear twisted in his gut, the spotlight blindingly bright. He noticed the lack of a safety net below – no one in their right mind would try this trapeze. But that's where his parents were, clinging desperately, their faces etched with terror as the rope slowly snapped.

"My Robin!" His mother's voice, strained and raw, barely reached his ears.

But this wasn’t how it actually happened, was it?

He lunged, arms outstretched, the distance impossibly vast. His fingers grazed his father's, just for a fleeting moment, before their grip loosened. Their cries, a horrifying symphony of despair, were lost in the howling wind as they plummeted.

Dick screamed, a primal, agonising yell that tore from his throat. He launched himself forward, defying gravity, but it was too late. The net gave way with a sickening snap, offering no solace, no reprieve. He watched, his world turning into a swirling vortex of red and bone, as their lifeless forms crumpled on the unforgiving ground.

Then, strong arms enveloped him, pulling him back from the precipice. A choked sob escaped him as he buried his face in a familiar chest. Warmth and an iron grip anchored him, a sliver of safety in the face of utter devastation.

"It's okay, Dick. It's okay." Bruce's voice, rough with emotion, offered a fleeting balm. He was nine again, small and angry and vulnerable, clinging to Bruce, who promised to keep him safe. But the moment of comfort was shattered.

A manic laugh echoed through the darkness, chilling Dick to the bone. There, standing between him and Bruce, was the Joker, his painted grin grotesque under the harsh light.

"Ah, Boy Blunder, always the disappointment!" he cackled, his voice dripping with venom. "Couldn’t even save the last one, could you? What was his name? Oh, yes, poor little Jason."

A wave of murderous fury washed over Dick. Visions of Jason, lifeless and pale in his funeral casket, flooded his mind. He lunged, fueled by a primal rage. The fight was a blur of fists and fury, his own screams mingling with the Joker's hysterical laughter.

He didn't know how long it lasted, the adrenaline a white-hot fire consuming him. But eventually, the Joker lay still, a crimson stain blooming on his chest, the sick smile plastered permanently on his cold, dead face.

Dick stared at his hands, stained red, realising with a sickening dread what he had done. He didn’t completely regret it.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he turned to face Bruce.

But Bruce wasn't there. In his place stood Batman, his features obscured by the cowl. The disappointment in his eyes, a bottomless pit of sorrow, was a blow worse than any physical harm.

"You failed, Dick," Batman's voice, a low growl, echoed in the vast emptiness. "Just like you always do."

The words hung heavy in the air, a chilling indictment. Then, Batman turned and walked away, his silhouette fading into the darkness.

Dick was alone, the deafening silence broken only by his ragged gasps for breath. He was lost, adrift in a sea of despair, the echo of Bruce's voice a constant reminder of his failures. He had failed his parents, failed Jason, and now, he had failed Bruce. There was nothing left, no hope, no redemption.

He woke with a gasp, heart hammering against his ribs, the nightmare clinging to him like a shroud. The sheets were damp with sweat, the cold air of the guest room a stark contrast to the inferno within him.

As the nightmare receded, a chilling realisation dawned on him. He didn't know what scared him more, the brutal deaths of his loved ones, or becoming the faluire that Bruce feared him to be.

But the terror wasn't over. A cold, clammy hand brushed his cheek. He bolted upright, his scream echoing in the empty room. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating a horrifying tableau.

Jason's lifeless body lay beside him, his face contorted in a silent scream. Tim, his usually perky little brother, was sprawled on the other side, a crimson stain blooming on his chest. A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he scrambled away, his back hitting the wall. Panic clawed at his throat as he saw a weathered tombstone by the foot of the bed. The inscription sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him: "Alfred Pennyworth. Loyal friend, devoted father and grandfather."

Dick could feel sticky, hot blood on his fingers, coating his body, drowning him. It’s like he was bleeding to death. Catalina’s honey-sweet voice echoed through the room, too distant to make out the words but loud enough to choke him.

Across the room, Barbara lay unconscious, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Her breaths were shallow and raspy. A horrifying realisation dawned on Dick. He wasn't bleeding to death, she was. The nightmare wasn't over, it was just getting started.

“No, no, no…” Dick whimpered, covering his head with his hands and curling into a ball, willing the nightmares to go away. But they persisted, tearing him apart piece by piece, clawing and ripping until there was nothing but a hollow void left.

It was his fault.

All his fault.

In the distance he could see figures hanging by their necks, suspended from trees. Wally, Roy, Garth, Raven, Gar, Donna… Kori lay on the ground beneath them, still and frozen, devoid of her usual warmth and fire.

NO! He wanted to scream, but no words came out.

Dick clawed at his throat, gasping for air that wasn't coming. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, echoing in his screaming ears. But the screams were silent, a horrifying internal torment. The figures around him, bathed in the sickly moonlight, remained motionless, their lifeless faces a tableau of his deepest fears.

A piercing shriek ripped through the room, jarring him awake. It wasn't Barbara's ragged breaths, nor the echo of his own silent scream. It was the blaring of the guest room alarm clock, a harsh intrusion into the chilling nightmare.

He lay there, eyes squeezed shut, fighting for sanity. The sheets were still damp, the air thick with the memory of terror. But the phantoms were gone. The room was devoid of the macabre scene that had played out moments, or was it hours, ago? He couldn't be sure.

Slowly, Dick opened his eyes, blinking against the weak light filtering through the curtains. The room looked normal, empty except for the furniture. Relief washed over him, a fleeting wave in the ocean of despair. He couldn't remember the specifics of the nightmare, just the raw emotions – fear, loss, and a bone-deep sense of failure.

He pushed himself out of bed, his muscles stiff and protesting. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was still 10 pm. Tim and Bruce must have left for patrol by now.

Good.

He wasn't ready to face Bruce, not yet. He couldn’t explain that he loved Bruce, that he was sorry they fought all the time. Couldn’t explain how much he regretted everything he did wrong. Couldn't explain the nightmares, the vulnerability they exposed.

Instead, he showered, the cool water doing little to soothe the turmoil within him. He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a stark contrast to the sleek black suit he should be wearing.

Downstairs, the house was quiet. The scent of coffee hung in the air, a tantalising lure for his exhausted mind. But he couldn't allow himself the comfort. Not today.

He slipped out a side door, the cool morning air a shock to his system. He needed the Batcave, the familiar weight of his Nightwing suit, the focus that came with flying over the city. Maybe tonight, when Gotham needed him, he could outrun the monsters that haunted his dreams.

The thrill of the chase coursed through Dick's veins as he apprehended the third group of muggers that night. Adrenaline was a poor substitute for a good night's sleep, but at least it kept him sharp. Everything was still a blur, but it was more like he’d mentally checked out but functioning, rather than being catatonic.

Landing gracefully on a Gotham rooftop, he scanned the area, his gaze falling on a familiar traffic light-coloured figure perched on the edge.

"Robin?" Dick called out, his voice barely a whisper above the city's constant hum.

Tim startled, his wrist-computer snapping shut with a click. "Nightwing. Didn't hear you come up."

Dick landed beside him, noting the furrow in Tim's brow. "Lost in a case already, Baby Bird? Early start, aren't we?"

Tim shrugged, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. "Just following up on something. You wouldn't know anything new about the Red Hood, would you?"

Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante-slash-crime lord Bruce had been obsessing over just a few months ago? "Red Hood? Why do you ask?"

Tim tapped his wrist-computer, lost in thought. "He disappeared for months, then suddenly reappeared a few weeks back. But B... well, Batman isn't exactly pulling out all the stops to find him anymore. It’s like they’ve made peace or something. It's weird, right?"

A knot of unease tightened in Dick's gut. This was strange. Bruce wouldn't just abandon a case, especially one involving a dangerous vigilante. Not unless there was a reason he wasn't sharing with them. And knowing Bruce, that was likely the case.

"That is weird," Dick agreed cautiously. "Did B say anything about it?"

Tim shook his head. "Nope. Wouldn't tell me a thing. So, I figured I'd do some digging myself."

Dick understood Tim's curiosity, but a part of him worried about the direction this investigation might take. It was standard Robin protocol to disobey Batman’s orders, but the Red Hood was dangerous, and absolutely hated Robin.

The image of Tim, bloody and dying in the Titans Tower, flickered over reality for a moment, chilling Dick to the bone.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could voice his concerns, a crackle of static interrupted him.

"Nightwing, Robin," Oracle's voice cut through their comms, sharp and urgent. "Gunfight in progress, two blocks east of your location. Possible hostage situation."

Dick exchanged a quick glance with Tim. "Looks like we have other priorities for now, little brother. Let's go."

Tim nodded, his earlier apprehension replaced by a steely focus. Together, they launched themselves into the night, the mystery of Red Hood temporarily put on hold as they raced towards the sound of gunfire.

Sirens wailed in the distance as Nightwing and Robin descended upon the scene. A dark alleyway echoed with the frantic pop-pop of gunfire, a silhouette of three gunmen visible against the flickering glow of a streetlamp.

"Civilians?" Dick barked into his comm, eyes scanning for any signs of bystanders.

"Scattered on the east side of the alley," Oracle responded. "Looks like a family caught in the crossfire between Penguin and Black Mask’s gang members."

A plan formed in Dick's mind. "Robin, you take the east side. Evacuate the civilians, get them out of here. I'll handle the shooters."

"Got it," Tim replied, his voice tense but steady.

Using the shadows as cover, Dick and Tim flanked the alleyway. Tim, nimble and agile, slipped through a fire escape and disappeared into the darkness. Dick, utilising his acrobatic skills, launched himself across the open space, aiming for a dumpster that offered a sliver of cover.

The moment he landed, a hail of bullets zipped past him, embedding themselves in the metal with sharp pings. Dick cursed under his breath, whipping out his Escrima sticks and attacking the criminals. His aim was precise, taking out the gunman's peripheral weapons one by one. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Robin leading the mother and her daughters away.

Tim's voice crackled through the comms. "Family's safe. Heading back to your position."

Relief washed over Dick, momentary and fleeting. Just then, the last remaining gunman, desperate and cornered, emptied his clip in a blind rage. Dick, focused on returning fire, didn't see the glint of two stray bullets not aimed at him, that pierced into Tim's abdomen before anyone could react.

Tim's startled yelp ripped through the night, followed by a heavy thud as he crumpled to the ground. Dick's blood ran cold. "Robin!" he screamed, his voice raw with terror. Ignoring the remaining gunman, he launched himself towards his brother.

A dark figure swooped down from the rooftops, a blur of black and grey. Batman landed with a heavy thud, his cape billowing around him. He disarmed the gunman with an effortless efficiency before turning his attention to the fallen Robin.

Dick reached Tim's side, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Tim lay near motionless, a spreading stain blooming on his red chest. Panic clawed at Dick's throat. "Baby Bird! No, no, no!" he choked out, his voice thick with despair.

He fumbled with his communicator, his hands shaking so violently he could barely press the buttons. "Oracle! Get Leslie to the Cave, now!"

"Already on it, Nightwing," came the reply, laced with urgency. But the words seemed to fade away as Dick focused on the shallow breaths escaping Tim's lips, the crimson that stained his gloved hand.

He pressed his hand over the wound, applying pressure with trembling hands. The world narrowed to the sight of his little brother, pale and still, the life draining out of him with each laboured breath. The fear that had haunted his nightmares was now a terrifying reality, and Dick was utterly helpless to stop it.

The world spun, a kaleidoscope of red and black blurring around Dick as he pressed his hand onto Tim's chest. A horrifying vision flickered over Tim's pale face – Jason, lifeless and cold, his blue eyes staring emptily into eternity. Dick's stomach lurched, a primal scream trapped in his throat. This couldn't be happening again. Not Tim. Not another brother lost!

His vision swam as a large hand clamped on his shoulder, firm and steady. "Nightwing, stand back," Bruce's voice, a low growl, cut through the haze of terror.

Dick felt himself being pulled upright, a numb puppet on a string. Bruce knelt beside Tim, expertly assessing the wound, the cowl doing little to hide the worry etched on his face. Dick watched, detached, as Bruce called for the Batmobile, his own voice gone, replaced by a hollow echo.

When the Batmobile arrived, screeching to a halt in the alley, Bruce scooped Tim up, his movements swift and practised. He looked at Dick, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions Dick couldn't decipher.

"Get to the cave," Bruce ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dick could only nod, his body a statue carved from despair. He watched as Bruce disappeared into the Batmobile, the red taillights vanishing into the night, taking with them a piece of his soul.

Alone in the blood-soaked alley, the weight of his failure crashed down on him. He hadn't been able to protect Jason, and now, he had failed Tim too. The guilt was a crushing tsunami, threatening to drown him. He sank to his knees, the cold concrete biting into his skin, a welcome contrast to the inferno raging within him.

Slowly, the hallucination faded, but the sight of Tim, pale and motionless, was no less horrifying. The red stain on his shirt grew larger, a macabre bloom mirroring the one that had claimed Jason's life.

A choked sob escaped Dick's lips, tears blurring his vision. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face the echoing silence of the empty city. With a Herculean effort, he pushed himself to his feet, a tremor running through his limbs.

He stumbled back to his motorcycle, the vehicle suddenly feeling unfamiliar, a foreign object beneath his shaking hands. He revved the bike, the purr of the engine a distant echo in his ears.

The drive back to the Batcave was a blur. He didn't remember the streets he passed, the red and blue lights of police cars flashing by like phantoms in the night. He was on autopilot, driven by a desperate need to be with Tim, to somehow make things right.

By the time he reached the Batcave, the air hung heavy with a sterile scent and the rhythmic beeping of life support. Bruce and Alfred were there, a grim tableau of concern etched on their faces. Tim lay on the medical table, his chest rising and falling with the help of the machine, a stark contrast to the peaceful slumber he should have been in.

Dr. Leslie, her brow furrowed in concentration, worked on removing the bullets from Tim's abdomen. The exposed flesh, the glistening red, sent a wave of nausea crashing over Dick.

He stumbled back, his legs giving way beneath him. Bruce caught him before he could hit the floor, a firm hand on his shoulder. Dick could only stare at the scene before him, his mind numb, his body a hollow shell. Bruce’s face was tight, eyes filled with… disappointment?

Of course Bruce was disappointed.

Dick had failed. He had failed them all. And the worst part? He didn't know if he could even face Tim if he lived. Because how could he look at his little brother, his Baby Bird, and not see the ghost of Jason staring back at him?

Bruce's hand tightened on Dick's shoulder, his voice low and gravelly. "Get some rest, Dick."

But Dick saw only disappointment in his father figure's shadowed eyes. Disappointment in his weakness, his inability to protect. Jason's lifeless face flickered again, superimposed on Tim's pale form. He heard the words Bruce was too stoic to say: You failed. This is all your fault.

So Dick decided to say them instead.

"No," Dick rasped, his voice raw. "It's my fault. I failed him, just like I failed Jason."

The words tumbled out, laced with a self-loathing that twisted his insides. He couldn't stay here, not under this suffocating weight of his failures. Not with Bruce's silent judgment hanging in the air.

With a surge of adrenaline that surprised him, he ripped his arm free and stumbled back. "I… I need some air," he choked out, the words a desperate plea for escape. He didn't wait for a response, just bolted towards the Batcave entrance, the image of Jason's lifeless eyes burning into his retinas.

He didn't remember the ride into the city. His mind was a chaotic storm, replaying the events of the night on a loop. The alleyway, Tim's crumpled form, the sickening sight of Tim's wound. The crushing guilt, a relentless tide threatening to drown him.

He reached Babs’ old apartment on autopilot, the familiar surroundings offering no solace. He hadn’t come here in years, why now? He couldn’t stay here, he shouldn’t be here. He needed to run.

Without a second thought, he twisted the keys once more, the engine roaring to life the moment he threw himself on the bike. He sped through the city, the wind whipping at his face, a welcome sting against the numb terror that had him in its grip.

He had no destination, no plan. Just the desperate need to escape, to outrun the demons chasing him. As he weaved through deserted streets, a familiar landmark caught his eye – the old Gotham Mall, looming over him. And on the side at the top, nearly 20 stories high, a smaller gargoyle jutted out, barely visible in the night.

A jolt of recognition shot through him. It was Jason's favourite gargoyle, a hidden nook he used to visit after patrols. The memories were still crystal clear in Dick’s mind – sharing greasy Batburger take-out and laughing at each other's jokes. A bittersweet memory, tainted by the weight of his guilt.

He pulled over, the bike screeching to a halt on the deserted street below the tower. He grappled up, climbed the building with practiced ease, his movements fuelled by a morbid curiosity.

As he reached the gargoyle, a wave of vertigo hit him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down. Heights hadn’t bothered him in years since his parents’ deaths. The bustling city stretched out below him, a tapestry of twinkling lights and inky shadows. The street seemed a dizzying distance away, a good twelve stories down.

He felt a strange sense of calmness wash over him. The city, once a symbol of hope and justice, now mirrored the chaos within him. Here, perched on the edge, he could almost see the peace of oblivion beckoning.

Was this the only way to escape the ghosts that haunted him?

The wind howled around him, a chilling symphony to his despair. Below, the city lights bled into a blurry mess, the distance both terrifying and strangely inviting. A voice, insidious and cold, slithered into his mind. 'They're better off without you, Dick. All you do is bring pain. Jason, Tim, your parents...even Barbara left ‘cause she saw she’s better off far away from you.'

The names echoed in the vast emptiness of his mind, each one a fresh stab of guilt. Jason's lifeless face superimposed itself onto the city lights below, a horrifying reflection of his failure. Tim, pale and broken, joined the macabre image. His parents plummeted into the abyss, their screams lost in the whistling wind. Bruce's face, etched with disappointment, loomed large.

A choked sob escaped Dick's lips. This pain, this crushing weight of failure, was unbearable. He could end it all here. Finally find some peace, some solace in the oblivion below. It wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't bring them back, but at least it would stop the pain. He wouldn't be a burden anymore.

This would be better for everyone.

A tear streaked down his face.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. This was it. This was the only way out. As he leaned forward, a hand slammed onto his shoulder, yanking him back from the edge.

He stumbled back, heart hammering against his ribs, eyes flying open to see a large figure standing behind him. The moonlight cast an eerie glow, obscuring the figure's face. But the voice, a familiar rasp that sent shivers down his spine, cut through the chaos in his mind.

"Wingding, what are you doing?!"

Disoriented, Dick's eyes snapped open, the city lights swirling before him. A hand, rough and calloused, gripped his shoulder again. Someone was calling out to him, desperate, but it seemed so far away. He blinked the grogginess from his eyes, his breath catching in his throat.

Standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight, was Jason.

Jason, in the Red Hood gear, minus the helmet. His face, too old and grown-up, was etched with a mixture of anger and something that looked… like concern?

But there, superimposed on the living Jason, was a horrifying image of Jason's lifeless body, the grotesque grin of death frozen on his face. Dick's mind reeled. Was this real? Was Jason a hallucination conjured by his fractured mind?

"I'm sorry," Dick choked out, his voice barely a whisper. "I couldn't save you. I'm the reason you're dead…"

Jason swore under his breath. This wasn't good. Dick's voice was thick with despair, his eyes glazed with a terrifying emptiness.

"Dick, listen to me," Jason said, taking a tentative step closer. "It's me, Jason. You're not hallucinating."

His words seemed to be filtered through a thick fog in Dick's mind. They didn't register. He took a stumbling step back, the world tilting precariously beneath him.

Finally, this would end.

"Dick, don't do this!" Jason yelled, his voice laced with desperation. He lunged forward, grabbing for Dick's arm. But in his haste, he overshot, his own momentum causing him to stumble.

Dick flinched at Jason's movement, his gaze fixed on the horrifying apparition that mirrored Jason. He saw Jason's hand reaching out, but didn't register the concern in the action. To him, it seemed like a desperate lunge to drag him over the edge.

He let out a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut. "Leave me alone," he mumbled, collapsing backwards, his body hitting the rough stone of the roof behind the gargoyle with a heavy thud. “I failed you. Failed Tim. Bruce. My parents. Everyone.”

Jason landed hard beside him, the wind knocked out of him. Dick didn’t fully register bulky arms wrapping awkwardly around him, his face being pressed into leather in an imitation of safety. This was the Red Hood, for God’s sake! Dick really should run away. But why did the criminal save him?

“Look, Dickface, you were in space when I died, okay?” A voice shouted in the distance. “Fuck, don’t give up on me… Dick, hey, stay with me…”

He was being lifted.

Everything was a blur. City lights below him – above him? He couldn’t tell. Leather wrapped around him, someone in Kevlar holding him tight.

Sounds, distant, too bright.

Too muffled, at the same time.

The world was a swirling kaleidoscope of pain and fragmented images. One moment, Dick saw the distorted city lights, the next, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then, darkness.

He surfaced again to find himself being lowered onto a cool, firm surface. A pair of gentle hands, large and calloused, held him steady. A familiar scent, sterile yet homey, reached his nose. "Alfred?" he rasped, his voice dry and thick.

The reply was a murmur, barely audible. Then, a flash of Red Hood’s logo, stripped bare of the leather jacket and paired with a familiar black-haired boy – Jason? But how…? Wasn’t he…

A new image snapped into focus. Tim. Lying still on a bed next to him, pale but undeniably breathing. Machines whirred and beeped rhythmically, a comforting counterpoint to the frantic hammering of his own heart.

Tim was alive. A wave of relief so intense it almost knocked him out again washed over him. He had failed him, failed them all, but Tim was alive.

Then, another thought wormed its way into his muddled mind. How did he get here? Where was Jason? He tried to lift his head, but a searing pain shot through his temple, forcing him back down.

"Easy, Dick," a calming voice said, a hand pressing gently on his forehead. "You need rest."

He recognized Bruce's voice, but it sounded distant, muffled as if underwater. He wanted to ask about Jason, about how they got back, but his eyelids felt heavy, the effort of forming a single thought monumental.

The confusion deepened. Had Jason carried him? How was that possible? More importantly, how was Jason even there?

He drifted in and out of consciousness, the fragmented images blurring further. Alfred's face, a mask of concern, swam into view. Briefly, he thought he saw Jason lurking in the shadows, his helmet back on, obscuring his face. But then, the image dissolved, replaced by Tim's pale visage, the rhythmic beeping of the machine a lullaby against the storm in his head.

Just as he was about to grasp at the question of Jason's presence, exhaustion claimed him. His eyelids fluttered shut, the darkness finally a welcome embrace. The swirling questions, the self-loathing, everything faded into a blessed oblivion. He couldn't fight the demons in his head right now, not when the one battle truly won mattered most – Tim was alive, and maybe, just maybe, so was Jason.

Dick could see his parents’ mangled bodies on the ground, far, far below.

He was balanced precariously on a swinging trapeze, his hold on the wire loose. He’d be joining them soon.

Tears, free-flowing, streamed down his face as he stood, letting go of the wire. Then he was jumping, letting go of his grappling hook, letting himself fall.

He was falling, falling, falling..

The ground hurtled closer yet seemed so far away, his Robin cape billowed in the wind above him. Bloody corpses on the floor raised their hands to him, beckoning.

Join us in peace.

The last Flying Grayson, he thought with a morbid smile. Meeting the same fate.

Then a voice called out to him – Jason? Then another one. Tim. They… were grieving him?

The ground, now bloody and shattered, came closer and closer, when Dick suddenly realised, NO.

No, he didn’t actually want to die.

He had Timmy, Bruce, Alfred, Babs, Haley, Wally, Roy, Kori, all his other friends…

No, he couldn’t die.

But it was too late.

He hit the floor with a sickening crunch, feeling every second of pain as his bones crushed, as his flesh splattered on the ground next to his parents, as his breath abruptly stopped.

He was dead.

Dead, dead, DEAD—

NO!

Dick jolted awake, gasping for air. His heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. The remnants of a nightmare clung to him, a chilling memory of falling, the wind whistling past his ears, the ground rushing up to meet him. He shuddered, pulling the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders.

His surroundings swam into focus – the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor next to him. Tim. He was still unconscious, but alive. A wave of relief washed over Dick, a bittersweet counterpoint to the lingering terror of his dream.

A low murmur reached his ears, a conversation in hushed tones. He strained to listen, his heavy eyelids threatening to close again.

"…didn't expect you back, Jason," Bruce's voice rumbled, an undercurrent of surprise evident.

"Not like you were exactly sending out welcome parties, Bats," came the sardonic reply, unmistakably Jason's. He was… alive! There was a defensive edge to his voice, but a touch of something else too, something Dick couldn't quite decipher.

"That's not the point," Bruce countered. "But… thanks. For what you did."

A scoff escaped Jason. "Don't make me out to be some hero. I only came back for Dick."

Dick's breath hitched. Jason came back… for him? A flicker of warmth ignited in his chest, a spark of hope amidst the ashes of despair. Despite the gravity of the situation, despite everything, a tiny part of him bloomed with joy.

“You’re always welcome here, Jaylad,” Bruce’s voice sounded again, low and vulnerable.

But the effort of staying awake was proving too much. His eyelids fluttered shut, the words "for Dick" echoing in his mind like a lullaby. He drifted back into sleep, the remnants of his nightmare replaced by a sliver of hope, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to outrun the demons that haunted him.

Dick blinked open his eyes, the harsh morning light momentarily blinding him. His head throbbed with a dull ache, the memory of the nightmare a distant echo. He turned his head, surprised to find himself back in his room at Wayne Manor. The familiar mahogany furniture and plush bedding offered a stark contrast to the sterile white walls of the Batcave infirmary.

Sitting beside his bed, his back ramrod straight, was Alfred. The usually unflappable butler looked older, more weary than Dick had ever seen him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he set a glass filled with a clear liquid on the bedside table. "Electrolytes, Master Dick," Alfred said, his voice gruff with unspoken concern. "Dr. Leslie advised us to get some fluids in you."

Dick reached for the glass, his throat parched. "Thanks, Alfred," he rasped, his voice hoarse. He took a tentative sip, the cool liquid soothing the dryness in his throat. He glanced across the room, his gaze landing on a figure slumped asleep in a corner armchair. It was Jason, the Red Hood helmet resting on the floor beside him, the harsh red of his gear clashing with the soft, floral-patterned fabric of the chair.

"Jason?" Dick croaked, his voice thick with confusion. "Isn't he… isn't he…" He trailed off, the words getting caught in his throat. How could Jason be here, alive?

Alfred's lips pursed into a thin line. He looked at Jason for a moment, a flicker of something akin to pity crossing his face. "There's a lot to explain, Master Dick," he said finally. "But it's a conversation perhaps best left between you and your brother." He straightened, his voice regaining its usual firm tone. "We'll need to get some real food into you soon. Your body needs its strength back."

With that, Alfred turned and left the room, leaving Dick alone with the sleeping Red Hood – Jason. His mind raced. Jason was alive, that much was clear. But how? So many questions swirled in his head – a tangled mess of confusion and disbelief.

He soft sound of Alfred shutting the door was enough to jolt Jason from slumber.

"Hey, Dickwing," Jason rasped, his voice rough from disuse. As Dick focused, he noticed the glint of emerald green in Jason's eyes – they used to be blue... But the biggest shock was how much Jason had grown. He was older, his features hardened with time and experience, the lines etched deep around his eyes telling their own story.

"How...?" Dick's voice cracked, barely a whisper. "How is this even possible?" The news that Jason was alive should have been a joyous one, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But it was overshadowed by the crushing confusion and a tangle of unanswered questions.

Jason shifted in the chair, the leather creaking in protest. He reached for his discarded helmet, running his fingers over the red skull emblazoned on its surface. A deep sigh escaped his lips, heavy with a mixture of regret and defiance.

"There's a lot to unpack, Dick," he said finally, his gaze meeting Dick's. "Bruce knows. He figured it out a while back."

Dick stared at him, his brow furrowed. "Knows what?"

"That I'm alive," Jason confessed, the words sharp like a knife. "And that…that I'm Red Hood."

Dick's breath hitched. Red Hood? The brutal vigilante that had been terrorising Gotham for months? The same man who’d tortured Timmy? It couldn't be… could it? A wave of nausea washed over him, the confusion churning in his gut.

"But…but I saw you…," he choked out, the memory of the funeral, of Jason's lifeless body, a vivid nightmare.

"You did," Jason agreed, his voice low and sombre. "I came back, somehow. Not sure on the details. But Talia… she found me. Used some Lazarus Pit mumbo jumbo to truly bring me back."

He paused, his gaze flickering away from Dick. "After that, I was…lost for a while. Angry, vengeful. I blamed everyone, Bruce, the Joker… you..." His voice hardened as he uttered the last part, a flicker of pain flashing across his green eyes. “I took it out on the kid. I… I’m so sorry about that, I don’t… I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…”

Jason cleared his throat, looking down at his hands.

"Then Bruce found me. I… I let him find me. He talked me down, pulled me out of that spiral. I went dark for a while, trying to figure my life out. But…" Jason hesitated, his jaw clenching. "Seeing you on that rooftop, about to…" he choked on the words, his hand tightening around the helmet.

"About to jump," Dick finished for him, a wave of understanding washing over him. It was accompanied by immense guilt, fear, dread. He was about to jump.

Jason nodded, his voice thick with emotion he tried to hide. "The thought of losing you… You weren’t just supposed to die like that, just leave, and…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The raw vulnerability in his voice, so unlike the hardened Red Hood persona, sent a pang through Dick's heart.

"So you came back," Dick said, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "To the Manor, to us?"

"Yeah," Jason admitted, meeting Dick's gaze head-on. "I still have scores to settle, and this city needs someone cleaning up the streets. But seeing you like that… it scared me, okay? And I don’t say that often.”

The admission hung heavy in the air. Dick looked at Jason, his heart overflowing with a mix of joy, confusion, and a touch of fear. There was so much to unpack, so many questions to be answered. But for now, the weight of his grief had lessened, replaced by a sliver of hope. His brother, against all odds, was alive.

“Please don’t do that again,” Jason whispered, startling green eyes focused on Dick’s.

“I…” Dick’s throat tightened. The hallucination of Jason’s corpse superimposed over the real Jason again, but Dick pushed it away. “I won’t. I promise.”

Jason left after a minute, unable to take the emotionally charged conversation for too long, leaving Dick alone with his thoughts. He didn’t even get to hug his little brother.

The silence that followed Jason's departure was deafening. Dick stared at the empty chair, his mind racing with a million questions. How long had Bruce known? Why didn’t he tell Dick? And how had Jason become the brutal Red Hood?

A storm of emotions churned within him – relief at Jason's return, anger at the deception, and a gnawing fear for the path his brother had chosen. Yet, amidst the turmoil, a fragile hope flickered. Jason had come back. He had cared enough to risk everything to save him.

Lost in his thoughts, Dick hadn't noticed the soft knock at the door. It creaked open, revealing a weary Bruce Wayne. His usually stoic expression was etched with lines of worry and guilt, a stark contrast to the calm, collected persona he usually donned.

Dick flinched, a wave of self-loathing washing over him. This was his fault. The worry etched on Bruce's face, the exhaustion in his eyes, it was all a reflection of the pain he'd caused.

"Can I come in?" Bruce asked, his voice gruff but laced with a vulnerability Dick hadn't seen in years.

Dick nodded, unable to form the words to respond.

Bruce entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, to Dick's surprise, Bruce did something he hadn't done in years. He crossed the distance between them and pulled Dick into a tight embrace.

The sudden gesture caught Dick off guard. He stiffened for a moment, unsure how to react. But as Bruce held him close, Dick felt a wave of warmth wash over him, a stark contrast to the icy grip of guilt that had held him prisoner for so long.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce whispered into his hair, his voice thick with emotion. He repeated the words over and over, a broken mantra that spoke volumes.

Understanding dawned on Dick. Bruce wasn't just apologising for keeping Jason's secret. He was apologising for everything – for the pain of their parents' death, for the weight of being Robin, for failing to protect them both. Yet at the same time Dick wasn’t sure why Bruce was apologising – he wasn’t the one who’d just tried to commit suicide.

Dick wrapped his arms around Bruce, a silent response to his apology. He didn't need words.

Dick wanted to be mad at Bruce, for keeping Jason’s return a secret. But then again, he… he wanted comfort. However undeserving he was of it.

He pulled away after a minute, looking at Bruce with tears in his eyes. “Where… how’s Tim?”

Bruce’s expression shifted, but Dick couldn’t read him – since when could he not read Bruce?!

He feared the worst, but instead Bruce replied, “He’s awake. On bedrest for two weeks.” Before Dick could comment on that, he added, “Just like you.”

Dick flinched.

Bruce sighed, his hand cupping Dick’s face. “Are you okay?”

Dick melted into his foster father’s touch, a tear slipping out of his eye. “No,” He whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Warm, steady arms wrapped around him again, pulling him into another hug. “Shh,” Bruce whispered, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here now, okay?”

After a minute of this, Bruce asked quietly, “Are you… Do you still want to…”

Do you still want to jump? Dick heard the unsaid question that hit like a stab to his heart.

“No,” He forced out as his throat threatened to close up. “I don’t – I didn’t actually want to—”

“Then what were you thinking?” Bruce’s voice is uncharacteristically small, pained.

“I wasn’t,” A choked sob escaped Dick's lips as he clung to Bruce. The embrace felt like a lifeline, anchoring him in a sea of swirling emotions. He wanted to be angry, at Bruce for keeping Jason's return a secret, at himself for breaking down so completely.

But the anger wouldn't ignite. In its place was a numb despair, a crushing weight of guilt that threatened to consume him. "I just… I don't know how to fix this," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair.

Bruce remained silent, his hold a comforting pressure against Dick's back. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice gruff but laced with a gentleness Dick hadn't heard in years. "There's nothing to fix, Dick. You didn't break anything."

The words hung in the air, a challenge to the narrative Dick had built in his mind. He pulled away slightly, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. "But I did. I failed Tim, failed Jason…"

"No," Bruce interrupted, his voice firm yet soft. "You didn't fail, Dick. You saved them. You saved Tim from me, when I wasn’t at my best. And Jason… seeing you like that, on the edge… that was his wake-up call. It reminded him what he almost lost."

Dick stared at Bruce, his brow furrowed in confusion. Bruce was right about Tim, but Jason… how could him seeing his big brother on the edge like that be a good thing? No child should have to see that…

But he’s not a child now. He’s grown up…

"Jason went off the rails," Bruce continued, his voice low. "Consumed by anger and vengeance, controlled by the Lazarus Pit. But seeing you, realising what he could lose… it pushed him back from the edge. Maybe… maybe it can be a turning point for him."

A sliver of hope, fragile yet persistent, began to bloom in Dick's chest. Was Bruce right? Could Jason actually be on a path towards healing?

Bruce squeezed his shoulder gently. "We'll figure it out together, Dick. As a family. But right now, you need to focus on healing yourself."

Dick met Bruce's gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. The apology, the comforting embrace, it wasn't just about Jason's secret. It was about everything – the weight of the past, the burden of their vigilante roles, the unspoken fear that had gnawed at them both.

He nodded slowly, a small, shaky smile forming on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. A way to deal with the guilt, the grief, the fear. He wouldn't be alone. He had Bruce, and Tim, and Alfred, and now… he had Jason too.

Dick sank into the worn leather armchair, the familiar creak a comforting presence in the otherwise tense atmosphere of Wayne Manor. Weeks had passed since his breakdown, and he was slowly piecing himself back together. The manor, a place that often felt like a battleground of memories, was currently an oasis of sorts. It was strange, having everyone under one roof again, a makeshift family reunion brought on by tragedy.

Haley had settled well into her new environment at the Manor, loved it, even. Why wouldn’t she? After all, everyone here found reasons to spoil her rotten. Right now she was running across the room, chasing a toy Jason threw. She stopped just long enough to press her wet nose into Dick’s hand, waiting until Dick rubbed the back of her ear before she bounded back to Jason. Jason ruffled her fur, whispering sweet words and kissing her face.

"Who knew you were a dog whisperer, Jay?" Dick remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jason glanced up, a scowl flickering across his features before softening at the sight of Haley. "I’m not gonna be mean to a dog," he muttered, tossing the toy across the room again. Haley bounded after it, barking excitedly. “Plus, she likes me. Do you know how few people like me?”

The dynamic between him and Jason was…complicated, to say the least. Jason came and went like a phantom, his presence always shrouded in a tense silence. Dinners, once lively affairs filled with banter, were now punctuated by awkward silences and stolen glances. Jason avoided Tim completely, the air thick with unspoken resentment. Tim returned the favour, too skittish around the older boy. The Titans Tower incident still resonated deeply, a fresh wound on both of them.

Dick, caught in the middle, felt the weight of their fractured relationship. There were moments when he saw flashes of the Jason he remembered – the sardonic wit, the fierce protectiveness, ghosts of the sweet boy he used to be. But those moments were fleeting, overshadowed by the hardened vigilante he had become.

"Haley does favour you, Master Jason," Alfred observed, entering the room with a tray of steaming tea. He set it down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on Jason. "Though I wouldn't recommend letting him chew on your jacket."

Jason snorted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Noted, Alfred."

Despite the tension, there was a flicker of warmth in the interaction. Dick realised, with a pang of sadness, that these fleeting moments of normalcy felt all the more precious because they were so rare.

"Miss Barbara came by while you were resting," Alfred added, placing a small bouquet of lilies on the side table. "She asked me to tell you she misses you." He looked between his boys. “Both of you.”

Dick felt his heart skip a beat. Barbara had visited? He hadn't spoken to her since their break-up, the weight of his emotional turmoil driving a wedge between them. The lilies, their white blossoms a symbol of purity and new beginnings, offered a sliver of hope.

"I miss her too," Dick admitted, a melancholic note in his voice. Across the room he saw Jason’s faraway, guilty look, how he absentmindedly patted Haley.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a quiet lull. Dick and Alfred chatted about Gotham's latest crime wave, the normalcy of the conversation a balm to his troubled soul. As evening approached, the manor was cloaked in an eerie silence. Tim had retreated to his room, while Jason vanished into the night, leaving only the faint scent of leather and gunpowder in his wake.

Dick sat alone with his thoughts, a tangle of emotions churning within him. He was alive, his family, albeit fractured, was reunited. But the road to healing, both for himself and for the relationships shattered by grief and anger, seemed long and perilous. Yet, as he looked down at the lilies, their fragile beauty a testament to resilience, a single thought bloomed in his mind – hope. He wouldn't give up on his family, or on himself. There was a chance, however slim, to rebuild what was broken, to forge a new path forward, together.

He was…

He was so glad he was still alive.

It still hurt, he still had nightmares despite knowing everything was better now, but…

He wasn’t alone anymore.

His brothers were both with him, Bruce loved him again…

Everything was better.

He was so glad he hadn’t jumped.

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #batfam #batman #red hood #bruce wayne #batfam fic

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absolutelybifurious · 4 months ago

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fuck it friday

tagged by @sibylsleaves

obviously i'm still doing this 4 million word au and i will hopefully have a chapter up today but anyways

“You’ve told me a thousand times, Cap, numbers don’t lie.” “They don’t,” Athena said. “But you haven’t entered the Drift with anyone, Buckley, not since… well. There’s more to it than the mat and a simulation.” Funny – it always felt like that was the end of the story for everyone else. “What do you mean? You have criteria, and we met it – we passed so...” He jerks his head back to Eddie, hoping for some semblance of backup, but his words die in his throat. Eddie is pale, staring at the number on the screen like he’s going to throw up. Is he that horrified of being partnered with Buck? Sure, it’s been up and down, but they had a connection – their sparring was… fuck, it was transcendent. There’s no way Eddie’s that staunchly opposed to… No, Buck stops himself. Maddie’s lectured him enough times about making things about him that aren’t, and he remembers the prickle of fear, of horror, of agony that went through him, through Eddie, during that simulation. No, Eddie isn’t resisting Buck. Eddie isn’t scared or Buck. He’s scared of the Drift. It’s not uncommon for cadets to be uneasy about it. Buck’s only properly entered it once, and well, that was a fucking nightmare. Eddie’s got trauma, obviously. Trauma that even Buck’s shitty childhood can’t match. He eases forward, catching the spot above his elbow, on his right side – because he’s not about to repeat the same mistake. “Hey…” His voice is soft, even softer than he meant for it to be. “Hey, you good?” “I…” It comes out of Eddie like a croak, like he’s dying. “Buck.” There’s so much in the way he says it. His name on this man’s lips has kaleidoscoped through him a dozen times since he first heard it, but this is different. It’s a million things unfurling into a million more. It’s a plea, a whimper, a prayer – an apology. He’s sorry. He’s hurting. He’s… “Eddie,” Buck says gently, and this drags Eddie’s eyes to him too quick. “Hey.” The sergeant and Bobby are watching them, and Buck gets the sense he ought to be embarrassed, should at least let go of Eddie’s arm, but he can’t bring himself to do anything but stroke his thumb down Eddie’s arm. “It’s a start,” Sergeant Grant finally declares. “But this jaeger is nothing to fool around with – I want you two playing Peter Pan and his shadow with each other for the next week. I want you to find out everything you possibly can about the other, then we’ll talk about a proper trial.”

that was longer than i thought it was but anywayyyy

tagging @inell @coldbam @cafecitoeddie @sunflower-eddiediaz and i'm not gonna go crazy this time bc last time took years off my life, sooo yeah. but pleeease use my name if you wanna do it and feel like you need one.

#bri fic #fuck it friday #this au is gonna be so long you guys #i need to do a proper outline before i end up wandering into the abyss #i'm having fun tho

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aiyexayen · 1 month ago

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🐇📚🦷🍬🪐🏜️🌸🎨🧩 ((((:

a feast of answers it is, then! 😌

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both?

though not frequently applicable, i prefer writing original characters. i come up with the odd one now and again (like some of my beloved queer siji disciples in my chengling fix it au). i don't believe i've ever done a reader insert! maybe someday.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

i don't actually have a notes app but i do take notes in my personal discord server. the last fic related note i wrote was, "5 times wen kexing caught liu qianqiao + 1 time she caught him" and the beginnings of an outline to that end 🤭

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

i assume this is meant to be writing-related, but my best hacks are actually, "just put a new chapstick in every location instead of trying to remember to take one around with you" and "put a bench/stool in the kitchen and bathroom, maybe even ones with wheels, you deserve to sit down while you do things"

writing advice? "write what fulfils you, when it fulfils you" -- need to stop everything and write a vent fic? do it. need to get out just an outline to an idea that grabbed your soul but never write or post it? do it. need to spend 3 months going feral writing a longfic that makes you happy and then leave it unfinished? Do It. need to write nothing but smutty pwp oneshots for your friends? you know you should just do it. need to stop writing for 2 years and then come back just to write some poetry for a rarepair in a fandom nobody's ever heard of? DO IT. as a hobby writer with no deadlines keeping food on my table, holding onto ownership of my agency around writing and only writing whatever i want and need whenever i want or need to--and the implied *don't* force myself to write things that hurt me or write when i can't--is what keeps writing healthy and joyous for me. and this isn't in conflict with fandom as community or participating in fic events, either--i write more prompt and gift fic than anything, tbh.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

i don't typically keep up with popular fandom characters and opinions. uh. oh, here's one for shl. i don't think canon zhou zishu makes a good dad figure for zhang chengling. i think he does his best to be chengling's shifu: a distinctly different relationship to a father-son one, especially for them, that he formed as a late-20-something with a mostly grown teenaged boy. and i don't think either of them would even think of disrespecting chengling's father's memory by trying to just replace him. i think wenzhou and chengling are found family in a more grounded and queerly expansive way, distinct from some nuclear ideal of parents-with-a-kid, and trying to force them into that relational tropey box does a serious disservice to the narrative and themes as they stand, to the character arcs as they stand, and feels like a weirdly unnecessary dismissal of the vast sprawling possibilities of human relationship.

but i mean, this is an opinion i hold in general about almost every fandom space so it's not new. i think characters are often much more (and sometimes much less) than "the mom of the trio" or "married with a kid" or anything else that tries to memeily-but-then-abruptly-seriously boil down characters to a single note, be it a gender role or a parental role or anything else. and sometimes the memes are funny, but often they transcend meme into serious character fanon and i bounce off it pretty quick.

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

1, i am no longer living in a house i am allergic to

2, i am working on my solstice time playlist

3, i just got a package in the mail from a friend!

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

anything that points out a specific thing the commenter noticed or liked. whether it's one quote, one little detail, or a whole essay. it's that feeling of being seen and noticed that's delicious. but honestly i also love incoherent emotion and emojis too. there's so much to enjoy about comment variety.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

chengling! my black cat!

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

i literally don't have a favourite. i love so fucking many fanarts, all of them equally for different reasons. i don't know how i would realistically answer this. i might make a fanart rec post sometime.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

finding one of my squicks that didn't make it into the tags to be filtered for (often i have squicks or unpreferences that aren't likely to be filterable via tags--like use of pet names that remind me of my ex, or other personal junk lol)

grammar/dialogue that is too difficult to parse is another. i'm not too picky about grammar or typos or anything normally, but like if i literally can't tell who's talking or what's happening at all, there's no real point keeping on reading. stuff like that.

i hope you enjoyed all this info lmao

ask game

#ask game #my answers #fandom wank

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halfseoulco · 11 months ago

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All My Love: A SEVENTEEN x Hogwarts AU

Published Wednesday, February 14th, 2024 — Happy Valentine's Day and, more importantly, happy Carat Day! Honestly, I really got attached to these versions of the SEVENTEEN members that I created for the Christmas AU, so I decided to continue their stories with what I hope is a cute series of events for our thirteen diamonds. ♡

As a refresher, here's some information before you start reading!

Word count: ~ 10,800

AU Ages:

Seventh years — Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, Soonyoung

Sixth years — Wonwoo, Jihoon, Seokmin, Mingyu, Minghao

Fifth years — Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan

AU Houses:

Gryffindor — Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Vernon, Chan

Ravenclaw — Wonwoo, Jihoon, Minghao

Hufflepuff — Junhui, Mingyu, Seokmin, Seungkwan

Slytherin — Jeonghan, Joshua

Description: It's Valentine's Day at Hogwarts and everyone has plans—or some things that go according to plan and some that don't. Romance is on the table for some, while others prefer to spend quality time with their friends—because all love is important. All you need to know is that you probably don't want to be Vernon.

Read “All My Love” on Ao3!

The Black Lake — February 14th (early evening)

"Hansol Vernon Chwe!"

The Gryffindor winced as his boyfriend's voice transcended octaves in his unbridled fury.

"You'd better have a good explanation for this!"

Gryffindor Fifth Year Boys' Dormitory — February 1st

"Vernon?"

The fifth year Gryffindor turned his head away from where he had been watching the rain fall outside the window to look at his oldest hyung over his shoulder.

"Oh, hey, hyung," he greeted him with a nod.

"Have you seen Seungkwan recently?" Seungcheol asked him, brow furrowed with concern.

"Um, not since last night," Vernon replied, face blank. "Why?"

The older Gryffindor sighed, sitting next to him on the bench seat in front of the window.

If not even his boyfriend had seen him recently, then maybe Seungkwan's situation was far more serious than anyone realized.

"I'm worried about him," Seungcheol admitted. "He doesn't really seem like himself. Not anywhere near a quarter as fussy as he normally is about everyone and everything." He glanced at Vernon out of the corner of his eye, noticing that he had gone back to facing the window. "You're usually attached at the hip, it's unusual that you haven't seen him at all today."

"Are you saying that I should know where my boyfriend is every minute of every day?" Vernon said tonelessly.

"No, that's not what I'm saying." Seungcheol tilted his head to one side, surveying him carefully. "I'm saying that as his best friend, you might know what's been going on with him."

The younger boy turned his head away.

"So you do know," Seungcheol said gently.

Vernon's shoulders tensed. He said nothing for a few moments, Seungcheol waiting patiently while he grappled with whether he should confide in the prefect or not.

Finally, his shoulders slumped.

"Last spring," he began, "one of Seungkwan's closest friends from home... passed away."

"I remember," Seungcheol said gravely. "That's why he was gone for a while."

"Yeah, he went back home to attend the funeral." Vernon sighed. "The friend... he was a Muggle... and obviously Seungkwan couldn't tell him that he was a wizard, so his friend thought that he had gotten a scholarship to attend some fancy boarding school in the UK. Seungkwan had been jumping through all kinds of hoops to stay in touch with him without giving himself away, getting letters sent by Muggle post... talking about classes that are taught at Muggle schools... They would hang out all summer when Seungkwan would go home after every end of term... but then..." Vernon rubbed at his nose furiously with the sleeve of his sweater, sniffling. "His friend was really unhappy and I think he missed Seungkwan a lot—"

"It's okay," Seungcheol stopped him. "You don't have to keep going."

Vernon nodded gratefully, wiping at his eyes.

"His birthday was last week," he said softly, "and Seungkwan hasn't been taking it very well. I feel like I should be doing something... more? Better? But he barely even talks to me, won't even look at me sometimes..." He finally looked up at Seungcheol, his eyes sparkling with tears. "Hyung, I don't know what to do. I feel like such a bad boyfriend."

Seungcheol inhaled deeply through his nose, his mind running through the memories he had of Seungkwan and Vernon, both back when they had been just friends and after they had gotten together. To anyone who didn't know the pair very well, it would seem like Seungkwan took care of Vernon in every way—because that was how his affection manifested itself—but their friends all knew that Vernon was Seungkwan's biggest supporter and that the Hufflepuff relied on his boyfriend more than anyone. At just fifteen, they had a connection deeper than most adults Seungcheol had met; and no one who saw them together could ever accuse Vernon of not being a good boyfriend.

Seungcheol exhaled heavily.

"You're not a bad boyfriend," he reassured Vernon. "The fact that you're worried about it this much is proof that you're not. All you need to do is let him know that you're here for him." He stood up, patting the younger on the shoulder. "Besides, Valentine's Day is coming up in a couple of weeks. Maybe come up with something that will really show him that he's not alone in this."

Astronomy Tower — February 14th (early afternoon)

"What took you so long?" Wonwoo asked, not taking his eyes off the book he was reading.

"I'm so sorry," Mingyu huffed, stuffing something into his school bag. "I got stopped by... Alice Pembroke... on my way up here." He dropped to the floor next to his best friend, chest heaving with exhaustion. Shoving his still-open bag away from him, he raked his fingers through his sweaty hair. "I didn't mean to be late."

"I know you didn't," the Ravenclaw said softly. "You have quite a lot of sweets in your bag," he observed, finally looking away from his book to peek inside the contents of Mingyu's school bag.

The Hufflepuff beater snorted.

"I would offer you some but after that one Gryffindor girl was sent Sugar Quills dipped in love potion, I've learned not to eat anything people give me on Valentine's Day," he muttered, zipping up his bag and leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. "It's all a bunch of nonsense anyway."

Wonwoo carefully folded the corner of the page he was reading before setting the book aside. He tried to remind himself that it wasn't because he felt inadequate and needed Mingyu to tell him that he was wrong about what he was going to say—he just wanted him to be happy. The possibility that his best friend was choosing to remain single so that he would always be able to hang out with him just didn't sit right with him, and he would make sure that Mingyu's love life no longer suffered, even if it meant he had to spend more time alone.

"You know, you don't have to keep turning down girls because of me," he said quietly.

Mingyu slowly straightened up, opening his eyes to stare at Wonwoo blankly. When he didn't say anything for a few moments, Wonwoo decided to elaborate.

"Every time I try to have this conversation with you, you refuse to talk about it," he pressed. "You like girls, or at least you liked the girls back home. I know that you want to fall in love—that you believe in love—but you've rejected every single girl that's been interested in you since we started at Hogwarts. It's okay, you know? I'm not going to become a recluse if you start going out with someone. I can take care of myself."

Mingyu continued to stare blankly at him, showing no sign that he was taking in anything that the Ravenclaw was saying. Irritated, Wonwoo waved his hand in his face.

"Is any of this getting across to you?" the usually laidback boy demanded.

Still not receiving an answer or any indication that Mingyu had processed anything he had just said, Wonwoo stood up and started gathering his things, trying not to be too aggressive about it. If Mingyu wanted to keep avoiding the subject, then he could do it by himself.

"Wha—wait, wait, wait!" Mingyu said hastily, lurching forward and tugging on his arm to stop him. "Don't leave! I... I'm not trying to be annoying on purpose, I just—" He cut himself off, exhaling through his teeth. "I don't really know how to explain it."

"Explain what?" Wonwoo asked, looking down at his best friend, who was still sitting on the floor.

"A lot of things," Mingyu replied, leaning back against the wall again, "but I promise you that I'm not turning down dates because I think that you can't function without me."

Now thoroughly embarrassed that he had even voiced that particular insecurity, Wonwoo hesitated for a moment before dropping his bag back on the floor and sitting back down next to him.

"I'm sorry I got upset," he murmured. "I just don't want to be the one holding you back from something that I know is important to you."

"You're right, it is important to me," Mingyu agreed, "but not right now." He tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling of the Astronomy Tower. "It's funny... we're in our sixth year, we have one more year left after this before we have to go out into the world and decide what we want to do with our lives... and I still feel so... young."

"I mean... we are." Wonwoo looked up at the ceiling himself, eyes following the veins in the stone. "Sixteen is not old enough to really make any decisions, not even about girls."

"Right, so I don't really understand why everyone is trying to find their future spouses now. I know a lot of Pureblood families don't arrange their children's marriages anymore, but there are still a few Slytherins who are already bound to betrothal contracts! Betrothal contracts! In this day and age! Anyway..." Mingyu grabbed his bag and shook it, the contents rattling around inside. "This? It's all fake. These girls are only interested in me because they think I'm handsome."

"You are handsome, though," Wonwoo pointed out.

"Thanks, but my point is that they don't know me. They don't know anything about me," Mingyu said. "I'm nothing more than good looks to them—with bonus points for being a foreigner and adding to the intrigue."

"Well, how is anyone supposed to get to know you if you don't let anyone close enough?"

"I don't need anyone else!" the Hufflepuff insisted stubbornly. "I have a twelve-person friend group. For some people, that's more than enough. Plenty. A lot, even."

"Oh, you won't find any disagreements from me there," Wonwoo said, chuckling. "Sometimes I think our friend group is a little much at times, but they're very understanding about me time. Anyway, back to you, you're being very cynical. A lot of people our age date for fun. No one's telling you that it has to be that serious, it might just be nice to have someone to spend time with on Valentine's Day. That's all."

"Is that something you want?" Mingyu asked him.

"Someday," he answered. "Not today, though. Besides, no one's been asking me, but a lot of people have asked you. That's why I'm bringing it up. If you were less nice, the girls here might start calling you a heartbreaker. Even Cedric Diggory had a girlfriend, you know, before the Triwizard Tournament."

"They can say whatever they want about me, it doesn't matter," Mingyu said, shrugging. "We're graduating next year and I don't think I'm going to be looking for jobs here, so I don't have to play British wizarding politics by avoiding rejecting girls from good families. I value my time and I'm choosing to spend it with people whom I also value, which includes you. Like..." He scratched the back of his head, frowning. "I think you're the most important person in my life and I want to be with you forever, but like... in a... not romantic way? If that makes sense? Like, I think we could get a house together and split bills and go grocery shopping and I would find that just as fulfilling as doing all that stuff with a girlfriend. I mean, girls are nice, but they're not you."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'platonic'," the Ravenclaw supplied helpfully. "And for the record, I feel the same way. I think people whose friends stop existing for them once they get a significant other are terrible."

"Yeah, what is up with that?" Mingyu agreed. "Can you imagine Seungcheol and Jeonghan just dropping all of us? Or Seungkwan and Vernon?"

"Never." Wonwoo shook his head. "Our lives are all so wrapped up in each other's, the thirteen of us can never really be apart. We're going to be old and gray... and taking up an entire apartment complex building by ourselves."

"I think that would be fun, honestly. A huge high-rise in Seoul, paid for by Jeonghan hyung." Snickering, Mingyu dug through his bag, unearthing a couple of packages of kimbap wrapped in plastic from under the piles of candy and cards. "My mom sent these, by the way. She specifically told me that I could not eat your portion, so you are now legally obligated to eat it."

"Tell her I said thank you," Wonwoo said, gratefully accepting the kimbap and unwrapping the plastic. "Your mom always has really great timing, she just knows when to send food."

"See, now you have to be friends with me forever," Mingyu teased. "Otherwise, no kimbap for you."

Wonwoo punched the Hufflepuff's arm affectionately.

"I don't need kimbap for that," he promised. "We were always going to be friends forever."

"Is there something longer than forever?"

"Forever and a day."

"That's still forever."

"I know."

Hufflepuff Sixth Year Boys' Dormitories — February 14th (afternoon)

Seokmin shuffled through the pile of parchment in his hands as he trudged into the sixth year boys' dormitories, muttering to himself about moonstone properties and measurement conversions. Entirely preoccupied with trying to figure out where he might have made a mistake on his last quiz, he didn't notice that anything was amiss until a voice broke through his concentration.

"Whoa, what happened in here?"

Seokmin's head snapped up when his dorm mate walked into the room, the amazement in his tone catching his attention.

"Well, that's certainly something," he said, blinking at the grand display in front of him.

The curtains of his four-poster bed had been pulled back to reveal a large bouquet of red, pink, and white balloons floating in place with magic above his mattress. Also floating in the air was a single card in a plain white envelope with his name printed neatly on it, although it didn't look like anyone's handwriting that he recognized—especially since the person had written it in Korean and he knew what all of his friends' handwriting looked like when they wrote in Korean.

Seokmin crossed the room to his bed, dropping his bag on the floor and the parchment in his hands on his bedside table. He plucked the card out of the air, using a quick spell to break the wax seal on it without destroying the pretty heart shape. When he opened it, he saw that the person had tried to also write their message to him in Korean with the help of a translation spell; and while the words were a little clumsy, he immediately found himself touched by the effort.

"To the one and only Lee Seokmin,

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm sorry that I couldn't face you in person. I'm not ready to reveal myself to you yet, but I still want to tell you that you make me smile every single day because you deserve to know. Please accept this card and the balloons well, I worked really hard on the spells to make them work. Maybe someday I will be able to tell you how I feel face to face. Until then, please be happy and healthy, and tell some new jokes in class when you learn them. I promise I will laugh like I always do.

With love,

Your secret admirer"

Reaching the end of the card, Seokmin stared silently at the words on the cardstock paper, trying to think of people in his classes who maybe laughed a little too much at his jokes or paid him any kind of special attention. Truthfully, there were very few people who didn't find him funny, so he quickly gave up on trying to figure out his admirer's identity that way.

"Does the card say who the balloons are from?" his dorm mate asked him, breaking him out of his deep thought.

"No, secret," Seokmin replied absentmindedly.

"Oh, that's a shame. Well, good on you anyway, mate!" His fellow Hufflepuff clapped him on the shoulder. "At least there's someone out there who likes you a whole lot."

As the other boy left, Seokmin inspected the balloons with a critical eye. The card had said that his secret admirer had worked really hard on the spells to "make them work" and he was curious to see exactly what the balloons were meant to do. What could you even make balloons do with magic anyway?

Intrigued, he cautiously poked one at the front of the bunch and gasped as the shiny surface rippled, revealing the words "POP ME".

"But I'm easily startled," Seokmin muttered to himself.

Wand clutched in hand, he debated just leaving the balloons alone and enjoying the sight of them—but the thought of never finding out what kind of magic had been placed on them was too tempting for him to ignore.

Waving his wand, he then quickly braced himself for the loud pop, covering his ears. However, instead of a popping sound, a high-pitched voice chirped, "I hope your Valentine's Day is magical!"

The voice had been disguised, of course, but the realization that his secret admirer had charmed the balloons not to make sounds when he popped them because they knew he was easily startled had tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Wiping at his face with his sleeve, he eyed the remaining balloons, trying to decide which one to pop next so that he could hear a different message.

"Wow, who sent you those?" Junhui asked, peeking in the doorway on his way down the hall.

"No clue," Seokmin told him happily, "but they're pretty amazing. Look!"

The older Hufflepuff entered the room, approaching Seokmin's bed to get a closer look at the magic balloons. The sixth year tapped a random balloon, showing Junhui how the words "POP ME" appeared, then waved his wand, causing the balloon to pop.

"I must need Occlumency because I can't get you out of my head!" it trilled.

"That is some amazing charm work," Junhui praised, peering more closely at the balloons. "The person who sent them to you didn't leave a name?"

Seokmin passed him the card.

"Too shy," he informed him.

Junhui read over the contents of the card quickly then handed it back.

"Hmm, would've been nice to know so that you could thank them for their effort, but the gesture is thoughtful," he said, shrugging. "They even made it so the balloons wouldn't make noise when popped. They must have enough classes with you to know you're a big ole scaredy cat."

"Yah!" Seokmin huffed, even though it was true.

Junhui chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"I'm happy for you, Seokmin-ah," he said, his tone genuine. "I'll see you later, meeting up with Minghao."

"What else is new?" Seokmin called after him as he left. "Now, back to these balloons..."

The Whomping Willow — February 14th (early evening)

"Who do you think it is?" Junhui asked his best friend, having just finished telling him about the charmed balloons Seokmin had received from his secret admirer.

Minghao didn't look up as he answered, his focus on washing the tea leaves in preparation to brew tea for the two of them.

"Your guess is as good as mine. A lot of people think Seokmin is funny, I'm sure he has no shortage of admirers."

"Honestly, I kind of want to know just so that I can ask them how they came up with the spell," Junhui said thoughtfully. "It was really very impressive. Whoever did it must like Seokmin a lot."

Minghao hummed in agreement, still concentrating on the task at hand.

The pair had chosen a nice spot not too close to the tree to set up a small, low-rise table so that they could sit and drink their tea together. Minghao often held these tea ceremonies alone, something that he did purely for his own joy and relaxation. The activity required singular focus, which took his busy mind off of other things for a while. It's not that the others were never invited, but they understood that it was something he needed to do for himself; and he had an unparalleled collection of different teas for a sixteen-year-old living away from home.

Junhui stretched his arms over his head, looking up at the Whomping Willow looming deceptively calmly above them.

"Do you ever wonder about what it would be like to settle down with someone?" he mused. "Even if they really like you, they still might not understand certain aspects of your personality or what's really important to you. What if they don't appreciate your tea ceremonies?"

"I haven't really thought about it," Minghao replied, tone even. "I know that I'd like to settle down eventually, but that seems pretty far off. There are still so many things I want to do first—like graduate from this school that we worked so hard to get into. I'm not enduring racism and xenophobia from narrow-minded Brits to worry about whether some witch from the English countryside appreciates my tea ceremonies. Besides, I do the tea ceremonies for myself, not for other people."

"You're preparing a tea ceremony for me now," Junhui pointed out.

"Yeah, well, that's you."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're not on the same level as everyone else," Minghao elaborated. "You're my best friend, and I know you do appreciate my tea ceremonies."

Not even remotely satisfied by the reassurance his best friend was giving him, the Hufflepuff pressed further.

"Will you miss me after I graduate?" Junhui's eyes left the Whomping Willow, dropping back down to observe Minghao's hands as he started to steep the tea leaves in hot water. "Tell me honestly."

"Don't be stupid," Minghao told him flatly and without missing a beat.

"Hey! I was just asking—"

"And I'm telling you again: don't be stupid." Minghao didn't take his eyes off the tea leaves, even as he spoke. "No offense to our friends but you know I'd miss you the most. I can't believe I even have to tell you that."

"It wouldn't hurt you to tell me sometimes! I like the reassurance."

"All of our friends are already talking about how I'm going to try and sneak you into the Ravenclaw dorms every weekend next year. If they know it, then so do you. Now drink your tea."

His tone was not unkind, simply matter-of-fact, the way it often was. Junhui knew that Minghao was nice in his own way, and he definitely cared about him—he just communicated it a little differently.

Having already poured the freshly brewed tea, Minghao carefully slid a teacup across the table towards the Hufflepuff. Junhui simply stared at the cup for a moment, admiring the detail and craftsmanship of the emerald green and gold accent pattern. Tendrils of steam wafted up gently but Junhui knew it would be the perfect temperature. It always was.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, finally picking up his tea and bringing it to his lips.

Minghao hummed in response, picking up his own tea. The fragrance coming from the perfectly steeped jasmine tea leaves filled the chilly February air around them, almost as if they were in their own bubble.

Most days they really were.

Junhui knew that he was really lucky that Minghao had come to Hogwarts at the same time as him, even though they were a year apart. It had been a long and difficult process to get accepted as a second year; and if Headmistress McGonagall had been a less generous woman, he never would've met Minghao—or any of the others. They had been made fun of and harassed from the moment they had arrived, but now—almost at the end of his time at the illustrious school—he wouldn't have done things any differently.

Now, if he could only be as certain about what laid ahead.

"Do you think falling in love is as big of a deal as everyone makes it out to be?" Junhui asked, setting his cup down.

"You're full of existential questions today." Minghao also set his cup down. "I think... that it's probably really nice in its own way... but that it's not the only kind of love that's important. Love comes in all forms and they're all equally necessary and fulfilling. People put all of their eggs in the romantic love basket and then wonder why they're still unhappy when they ditched all their friends for a new relationship."

"So you don't think it's lame that you're having tea with your best friend on Valentine's Day?"

"Of course not." Minghao snorted. "There's nothing else I'd rather be doing. Anyway, do you think it's lame for Mingyu and Wonwoo to be hanging out in the Astronomy Tower of all places doing who knows what when Mingyu has the entire female student population after him?"

"No, not at all," Junhui replied quickly. "They are each other's most important person."

"Exactly." Minghao smiled at his best friend over the rim of his teacup. "Aren't I your most important person?"

"Yes. Always yes," Junhui assured him.

"And you're mine, so don't worry about it anymore," Minghao said, reaching across the table to pat Junhui's shoulder fondly.

"Why do I feel like you're the older one instead of me?"

"Because it's my duty to impart wisdom upon you from time to time," the Ravenclaw informed him matter-of-factly. "It comes with the house."

Junhui rolled his eyes.

"In other news, my mother wrote to me this morning letting me know that one of the girls with whom I attended primary school told her parents that I'm going to a private school in the UK, and so they contacted my parents asking if they had any prospective fiancées in mind for me," Minghao told him. "My pretend pedigreed education is apparently an attractive quality."

"Ah, they're Muggles," Junhui concluded. "Your parents don't have a problem with that, do they?"

"No, definitely not." Minghao shook his head. "I just think it's much more difficult to try and be in relationships with non-magic folk. You have to hide so much, not even just because you think they can't be trusted but because you never know how they're going to take the news. It's a lot of information for most people to handle."

"I don't know, I think my father took it pretty well," Junhui said, thinking back to the story his parents had told him about how his mother had broken the news to her then-boyfriend that she was a witch. "But he is a little odd himself, so I think he was just relieved that she wasn't as normal as he thought she was."

"Your parents are a pretty strange pair," Minghao admitted, "but I like them. They're very nice."

"And your parents are hilarious," Junhui returned, remembering when they had come to the pick-up point at Hogsmeade to take a Portkey back to China for the summer just last year. "You really take after them."

Minghao shrugged.

"Superior genetics."

Junhui snorted into his teacup, blowing bubbles across the surface of the still-hot liquid.

"Don't scoff," Minghao pretended to scold him. "You have the very best best friend you could possibly ask for. You should be grateful."

Still holding the teacup to his face to hide his smile, Junhui nodded in agreement.

"Oh, I am. I always am."

The Library — February 14th (early evening)

"I knew I'd find you here!" Soonyoung exclaimed happily, weaving through the aisles as he skipped towards the study tables.

Jihoon looked up at the Gryffindor, frowning. The table that he was sitting at was covered entirely in books and parchment, a stark contrast to the other empty tables. In fact, his was the only occupied table in the entire library. Madame Pince wasn't even lurking in the shadows as usual, considering that Soonyoung was speaking at louder than an inside voice and she hadn't come over to reprimand him.

"I'm usually here," he deadpanned, looking back down at his work, "the same of which cannot be said for you."

Soonyoung didn't look the least bit offended by Jihoon's words, long since used to his particular form of communication. Undeterred, he looked down at all of the materials spread out on the table, trying to figure out what Jihoon was working on even though it was upside down for him.

"You have to be the only person in the entire school who's studying today!" he pouted, pawing at the parchment nearest to him. "It's Valentine's Day! A day for love! What are you even working on?"

"Getting ahead," Jihoon said shortly, yanking the parchment back from him. "Love can wait."

"Jihoon-ah, you'll work yourself to death," Soonyoung chided him, pulling out the chair opposite the Ravenclaw. "I think you should take a break."

"That's how I like it," Jihoon grumbled, "and I have nothing pressing to attend to tonight, so there's no point in taking a break."

"I came all the way up here, to the library—where I never am, as you correctly pointed out—to find you and you won't pull yourself away from your books to hang out with me?"

Jihoon's quill paused mid-scratch, the only indication that he had heard the seventh year's question, before he continued writing.

"You don't usually ask me to hang out," he said, his tone bordering on indifferent.

"It's not for lack of wanting to. I always want to," Soonyoung admitted. "And I always think you're going to say no, so I never ask."

He thought he could see a faint pink blush on Jihoon's cheeks but it was hard to tell from this angle.

"That's not very Gryffindor of you," Jihoon commented, scribbling away.

"It's the one thing in which I lack courage," Soonyoung huffed. "But to be fair, you're very intimidating, even though you're the cutest person I know."

Jihoon accidentally pressed down on the parchment too hard with his quill, creating an ink blot over the words he was writing. Swearing under his breath, the tips of his ears red, he waved his wand at the offending spot.

"Stop talking nonsense," he hissed, the red flush spreading from his ears to the rest of his face.

"I'm not!" Soonyoung insisted. "I think you're the cutest person in the whole school!"

"Shut up!"

Jihoon wasn't even trying to focus on his work anymore, intent on getting Soonyoung to stop talking before he had a coronary. Not that it was possible. The seventh year was actually very shy—but you would never know it by the way his mouth ran a million miles when he was around his friends. He seemed determined to say his piece and nothing was going to get in the way of him saying it.

"You're always so strict and I think it's because you like it when people listen to you, but you're always doing nice things for people while pretending that you had nothing to do with it," the Gryffindor continued, oblivious to the fact that Jihoon was now bypassing red and heading into scarlet. "Like that time you jinxed those people who had been making fun of Junhui and Minghao when they first arrived. It was so impressive, I remember thinking that you were such a cool and dependable person even back then."

"That's enough!"

"And you're so buff for such a small and cute person." Soonyoung rested his chin on one hand. "You could probably knock me out if you really wanted to. Honestly, please do it, it would be the greatest honor of my life. Anyway, it makes no sense... and yet it makes perfect sense. Everything about you is just... so fascinating."

The Ravenclaw jumped up from his chair, hurling the quill he had been using at Soonyoung, who turned and ducked just in time to watch it sail over his head.

"Whoa! What was that for?"

"Why are you saying all this?" Jihoon demanded. "Did you come up here just to embarrass me?"

Realizing that he and the sixth year were not on the same page in spite of the way he had just gushed about him, Soonyoung shook his head.

Apparently he had not been clear enough.

"Accio quill," he murmured, holding a hand out for the quill Jihoon had thrown at him before offering it back to him. "I'm not trying to embarrass you, although I am sorry if that's how you feel. I'm just trying to tell you how I feel, which is that you scare me but I like it—I like you."

Jihoon snatched his quill back, face still impossibly red.

"You have a funny way of showing it," he snapped. "You have mere months left before you graduate, your timing is nothing if not grossly impeccable."

"I know, I haven't been very brave," Soonyoung said, shrugging, not even the least bit put off by Jihoon's criticism. "I really didn't want to ruin our dynamic or make things weird for the others, but if we hadn't agreed to the no dates rule for the Yule Ball, I would've asked you."

"You said you weren't interested in anyone when Minghao asked you," Jihoon pointed out, narrowing his eyes at him.

"So I lied." Soonyoung started gathering the parchment on the table into a pile. "I haven't exactly told anyone that I've been harboring this secret crush on you for three years. I'm no good at keeping secrets but I was very good at keeping this one. And stop being so pragmatic about this, I'm trying to be romantic."

"I really don't know what you want me to say to all of this," Jihoon said snippily. "You're the last person I expected to confess to having a years-long crush on me."

"How about you say what you want to say?" Soonyoung suggested, a hopeful expression on his face.

Jihoon, having just noticed that the seventh year had compiled all his parchment into a neat stack, slid the pile away from him and across the table, putting everything into his school bag. He then waved his wand, sending his books flying back onto the shelves in their rightful places. When he had stalled enough, he sighed and turned to face the Gryffindor.

"I know we've been friends for my entire time at Hogwarts thus far," he began finally. "I know that I can trust you, that you're telling the truth—that you wouldn't confess just to yank the rug out from under me, as I believe the expression goes. I know all of that, logically, but considering that—as you said—people find me intimidating, it's hard to imagine someone being so earnest about their feelings for me. Most people think I'm too... domineering."

His hands came up to his throat, loosening his blue and bronze tie from around his neck.

"I can't even really say if I like you as more than a friend or not," he said, sounding apologetic. "I didn't think it was a possibility, so I never considered you in that way."

Soonyoung leaned over the table between them, reaching for the Ravenclaw's school bag and hoisting the strap over one shoulder. He maintained eye contact the entire time, willing Jihoon to believe him but also wanting to fluster him just a little bit more.

"But as you said, you know that you can trust me," he pointed out. "Plus, if you think about it, you're a strict taskmaster and I'm a glutton for punishment—we're perfect for each other."

Jihoon tried to wrestle his school bag back from the taller boy, his pale face gaining back the red that had just begun to fade.

"You can't just say things like that!" he hissed.

Soonyoung simply tugged the bag out of his grasp and just out of his reach, smiling cheekily.

"I've waited three years to confess," he reminded him. "Now that the secret's out, I have all sorts of things that I kept to myself that I'm going to say—including how adorable I think you are. Walk with me?"

Jihoon stared up at him for a few moments, expression unreadable. If he thought at all about refusing him, the thought didn't last. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he nodded towards the front of the library.

"Well, after you then."

Slytherin Common Room — February 14th (dusk)

"Hong!"

Joshua didn't even so much as raise his head, instead making an indifferent "mmm" sound in acknowledgement.

He didn't need to look to see who it was—the voice alone was clue enough.

William Bennington the third was an awful homage to the Pureblood Slytherins of old. With generations of English aristocratic breeding to support his claim to everything he wanted in life, he was disliked even within his own house and by many of the portraits in the dungeons; and after seven long years sharing a dormitory with him, he still said "Hong" with a certain sneer that was clearly affected by poorly concealed racism.

At this point, Joshua had been living in the UK long enough to let things roll off his back, but William could've given Draco Malfoy a run for his money with the way he paraded about the school as if he owned it.

"Pretty prince doesn't have a date tonight?" William asked him, dropping down onto the sofa across from him, his tone mocking.

"Not that I'm aware of," Joshua replied pleasantly, still not looking up from his book.

"Hey, it just goes to show you that looks aren't everything in life," the other boy commented snidely. "The girls here won't go after some foreigner with no title. And aren't you a Half-Blood?" he added as an afterthought. "Yeah, that won't do at all."

Joshua turned the page, letting William carry on the conversation by himself. The golden-haired heir to a Potions empire (or so he claimed, Joshua had never bothered to verify this) had been harassing him from the moment he had set foot in the common room first year; and he had long since learned that it was best to let him converse with himself to get everything out of his system before he was satisfied. Not only did William take issue with his race and his blood status, he seemed oddly offended by his appearance as well, referring to him as "pretty" with his tone suggesting that he did not mean it in a positive way.

"Nothing to say?" William asked him softly, noticing that his tirade was falling on deaf ears. "Truth hurts, does it?"

"If you say so." Joshua barely shrugged his shoulders.

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say.

"You think you're better than me?" William demanded, suddenly shooting up from his seat. "That you can sit there like you're royalty and I'm some sort of commoner? I'm far more important than you will ever be!"

Joshua sighed, recognizing that his night would be a lost cause if he didn't address this particular problem promptly, and slipped a tasseled bookmark in between the pages of his book before closing it and looking up at his aggressor for the first time during their previously one-sided confrontation.

"I get that certain things matter to you," he said carefully, "but they don't matter to me—and they don't matter to a lot of people anymore, not even the Slytherins here. I didn't realize that me being dateless on Valentine's Day was of such great significance to you, especially when it's of no significance to me and my evening. Maybe you should be more worried about the fact that you care so much about what I'm doing with my time, alone or otherwise."

William's upper lip curled into a sneer, his eyes narrowing.

"Listen, you filthy—"

"Oh, shut it, Bennington," snapped a voice from behind Joshua.

Joshua turned to look over his shoulder, noticing that Mira Nott had just come from the girls' dormitories and was standing just behind the sofa he was sitting on.

According to Jeonghan—who seemed to always know the latest gossip amongst the various wizarding families—Theodore Nott had settled down with a Pureblood witch from Bulgaria who had graduated from Durmstrang. They had met while Theo had been taking some time away from England and had returned together shortly after their wedding.

While she had been a cute girl when she had first arrived, Mira had grown into an exceptionally pretty young woman by the age of seventeen. Taller than most of the other girls in the school, the first thing that Joshua had noticed about her was that she had perfectly straight posture that adjusted minutely according to her movements. With long, dark curls framing her face, a warm complexion, and high cheekbones, she had the best features of both of her parents—except that she had one brown and one blue eye, both of which were cunning yet also surprisingly kind. Top of the class in at least every class Joshua shared with her, she was also the Slytherin Seeker; and he loved to watch her fly against Seungcheol during matches. Her intellect and athleticism made her a formidable opponent, and their matches were always close ones.

All that being said, Mira was obviously highly sought after—even by William Bennington the third.

"Don't mind him. Joshua," she said to him, a beautiful, wicked smile on her face as she made direct eye contact with William. "If betrothal contracts were still common practice, I would've already asked my father to request a meeting with your parents to discuss one."

Joshua resisted the urge to grin broadly at the way William's face had gone absolutely scarlet, a purple vein starting to make its appearance at his temple.

"You flatter me, Mira," he said to her instead, laying it on a little thick for the benefit of their audience, even as he ignored him. "I don't think I would be opposed to such a meeting. There's still time to write to your parents and mine."

Standing up, he offered her his arm.

"Walk with me?" he asked, every bit the perfect gentleman.

"Of course," she replied, walking around the sofa and linking arms with him.

Triggered by the events taking place right in front of him, their forgotten peer leapt up from his seat, positively quivering with entitled rage.

"Mira! You cannot possibly be thinking about entering a betrothal contract with that Half-Blood foreigner! My father—"

William's deranged bellows were cut off abruptly as the door swung shut behind them.

"I wonder what his father would have to say if he knew that the daughter of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family had filed a complaint with the school governors about the shady little deals William conducts in the prefects' bathroom," Mira said innocently.

Joshua smiled at her, completely enamored. Was there any other witch at this school more perfect than the one looking at him right now?

"You are so ruthless, I love it," he told her.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder, smiling back at him.

"Tell me more."

Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch — February 14th (evening)

"Yoo-hoo! Channie!"

Chan squinted down at the figure waving up at him, figuring out who it was based on the gleaming head of hair.

Camille Archambault, which she had told him meant "bold master"—the girl from the Yule Ball.

It had been almost two months since Christmas and he had met up with the stunning beauty from Beauxbatons a handful of times—a Hogsmeade outing here, a walk on the grounds there. They were what some people might call dating, if a little intensely for something that was supposed to be casual. Translation spells helped bridge the language barrier; and she was sweet, funny, and charming. She was quite good at spells, and she had told him that if she had been a student during the time of the Triwizard Tournament, she would have entered. She liked picnics by the greenhouses and broom rides with her arms wrapped around his waist, coffee with milk poured in delicate swirls and the feeling of his hand intertwined with hers, primrose perfume and the way he got red right before he kissed her.

Sometimes he found himself thinking that he should be a little more cautious with his heart—that he should be waiting for the other foot to drop—but so far he was having fun, and he supposed that was what mattered.

He was surprised that she could tell it was him considering how high up he was, but he did catch her staring at him from the Ravenclaw table quite often. She never looked embarrassed at having been caught—in fact, it only emboldened her and he ended up having to be the one to look away.

"That girl never gets tired of looking at you," Jeonghan had told him once, the disdain in his voice more like that of a disapproving parent rather than an overprotective friend. "I wonder how she manages to concentrate on her studies when she's staring at you all the time. I suppose she'd at least get an Outstanding in Lee Chan."

"Let them be, Hannie," Seungcheol had admonished him gently.

Secretly, Chan wondered what Camille saw in him, exactly. She had been the one to ask him to dance at the Yule Ball and the one to lead him out to the gardens that night. She had also initiated all of their dates so far, as well as most of their shows of affection, which he still hadn't quite gotten used to. After their time together at the ball, he hadn't expected to hear from her again, yet she kept seeking him out. She seemed to have memorized his schedule to account for all the classes she didn't share with him—she always knew where to find him, even when he didn't tell anyone where he was going.

It was flattering, he had to admit.

At the ball, she had asked him how to pronounce his name correctly, repeating it multiple times even after he had told her that she had down—and then proceeded to only refer to him as Channie, saying that it was her cute name for him. One of the other Beauxbatons girls, having only heard Camille call him Channie, tried to use the nickname one morning and the next time he saw her, she was missing her eyebrows.

"Why doesn't she just grow them back?" Mingyu had asked, perplexed.

"If she would, she could," Chan had replied, shrugging. "Camille's really good at spells, the other girl probably can't figure out how to reverse it."

"Wow, you'd better make sure she never gets mad at you."

Privately, he agreed.

That being said, he wondered if she felt like she had to teach him everything—where to put his hands, when to kiss her, what he should say. He had made his lack of experience known that night in the gardens, but she hadn't seemed to mind. She had simply directed him and he took direction well.

And yet... he couldn't help but think it was as though they were caught up in a race in which only she knew where the finish line was—and the thought made him more than a little sweaty-palmed.

Coming back to his senses, he Summoned the Quaffle he had been practicing with and tucked it under one arm. Although he wasn't on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Chan still liked to fly. It brought him peace and helped clear his mind, and on an evening when he figured he had no plans, it was the perfect way to spend his time.

I guess I have plans now, he thought to himself.

He circled the goalposts on the far right side of the pitch, making a nose dive and pulling up straight just as his toes skimmed the grass. He dismounted smoothly, giving Camille a friendly smile as he approached her, Nimbus 3000 broom in one hand and Quaffle in the other.

"Hi, Camille," he greeted her. "What can I do for you this evening?"

"Bon soir, Channie," she returned, smiling prettily at him. "I admit, I am a little disappointed that you did not come looking for me today. I was hoping that we could spend some time together."

"Ah, I wasn't aware that that was what you wanted," he told her sheepishly. "It's Valentine's Day and we're not, you know, official, so I didn't think you would want to do anything."

"Channie, Channie, Channie." Camille shook her golden blonde head. He caught sight of delicate pearl strand earrings dangling from her ears, a matching set with the string of pearls around her neck. "I am going back to France at the end of term, do you think I want to waste time going slow?"

"I wouldn't think it was a waste of time," he protested, cheeks growing pink. "I just... haven't really hung out with a lot of girls. You move kind of fast."

"Oh, I know, mon chéri, it is what makes you one of the good boys," she said, touching his cheek, her expression fond. "I always enjoy our time together, and I think it would be silly to not make the most of the time we have left, non?"

Chan dropped the Quaffle on the grass and placed his own hand over her hand on his face.

Being with Camille was like one ongoing surprise party. Sure, it was fun, but it also kind of gave him a heart attack. Even though he always did his best to try and read her mind before she actually executed any of her plans, he more often than not found himself unprepared. It was a little jarring to be caught unawares as many times as he had been since they had started seeing each other, but he knew that he had to enjoy the ride while it lasted.

She was, after all, leaving at the end of term.

"Let me shower first?" he asked her.

She tilted her head to the side to press her lips to his other cheek.

"Meet me at the entrance to the grounds in half an hour," she murmured in his ear. "I'll be waiting."

The Gilded Phoenix (Private Room) — February 14th (night)

"You know I really didn't need all of this," Jeonghan said, taking a sip from the glass of elf wine he was holding daintily in one hand. "We could have stayed at school and I would have been just as happy."

"I know, but it's our last year at Hogwarts. Maybe it sounds kind of childish... but I just wanted to do something to commemorate our last year as kids," Seungcheol told his boyfriend honestly, shrugging. "Life is going to change pretty dramatically once we graduate. I feel like we're never going to have this kind of peace again."

"So you wanted to live in this bubble of youthful innocence one last time," Jeonghan guessed.

"Exactly."

"We're still going to be kids when we graduate," Jeonghan said thoughtfully. "The Wizarding World in the UK moves so fast, it's amazing how anyone manages to find something stable so soon after graduation."

"Are you planning on going home?" Seungcheol asked him.

"Yes, for a while. My parents will want to see me—and they'll want to see you as well."

"I think I'll go home for a little while, too." Seungcheol ran a finger around the rim of his wine glass absentmindedly. "There's this famous producer based in London whom I'm trying to get an internship with, though. I'll need to find a job so that I can get a flat nearby if I get accepted."

"Darling, you know that you don't have to work if you don't want to," the Slytherin reminded him. "I don't have to work if I don't want to, and I'm more than capable of taking care of both of us. Besides, my family loves you. We'd be married as soon as we landed on Korean soil if it were up to them."

"Spoiled rich kid," Seungcheol teased.

"You love me," Jeonghan flirted back.

"Always." Seungcheol took Jeonghan's hand, his thumb skimming the tops of his knuckles affectionately. "Look, I appreciate you offering to support me financially, but I want to be able to do things on my own, whatever I choose to pursue."

"Your music has always been important to you. You're an artist. You could... simply think of me as your patron," Jeonghan suggested.

"Hannie—"

"I mean it," Jeonghan insisted. "You would be focusing on making music without worrying about your finances. It's not like I would be paying for you to stay idle. I'm sure I could also come up with work for you."

"I really can't accept," Seungcheol said firmly, "so please don't ask me to."

Jeonghan set down his wine glass with a huff.

"You never let me do anything for you!" the Slytherin exclaimed, eyes narrowed dangerously. "I always indulge this little... complex you seem to have about being perceived as the provider, but you know that that concept is extremely outdated. There is no hunter-gatherer dynamic in the twenty-first century."

"You think this is about my masculinity?" Seungcheol asked incredulously.

"Yes, I do!" Jeonghan snapped. "I let you open jars for me and move my furniture around because I know it makes you feel useful. The least you could let me do is use the resources I have to help you!"

The Gryffindor leaned back in his chair, staring at his boyfriend in disbelief.

"So that's how you really see me," he said flatly.

Jeonghan sighed, deflating at once.

"Cheollie, it's not that I see you as some sort of caveman," he said sadly. "You help me all the time. I just want to be able to help you for once."

Seungcheol's expression softened. He knew that Jeonghan just wanted to help—he was generous to a fault, and throwing his money at problems was his way of trying to make things better. There was some truth to what he was saying, though—his ego wouldn't let him allow his boyfriend to pay all the bills while he tried to make it as an artist.

"You do help me," he murmured, taking both of Jeonghan's hands in his. "You help me every day just by existing. I'm already taking advantage of the fact that you wake up every morning still wanting to be with me."

"You're stupid," Jeonghan huffed, eyes watery. "You big, stupid man. You're not taking advantage of anything. Sometimes I wish you would!"

"Alright, point taken." Seungcheol chuckled, gently smacking the palm of one of Jeonghan's hands. "I mean it, though. Do you know how coveted you are by most of the student body?"

"Of course everyone wants me," the Slytherin scoffed. "As they should. It doesn't mean that they can have me. I'm yours, and I always will be."

Seungcheol smiled at him.

"I know."

"So will you let me bankroll your endeavors in music?" Jeonghan asked hopefully.

Seungcheol stared at him for a moment, considering.

"I'll think about it," he said finally.

"I suppose that's the best offer I'm going to get." Jeonghan sighed dramatically, picking his wine glass back up. "Life doesn't have to be so hard, you know. If there's an easy way, you should take it, never mind your moral qualms regarding classism and the way the one percent uses their wealth to get ahead in life."

"Hannie, you're the one percent," Seungcheol pointed out dryly.

"And what about it?" he sassed back.

"Nothing, you're the most benevolent benefactor in all the land," the Gryffindor said primly.

Jeonghan reached across the table and tugged his boyfriend forward by his black tie, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"Only for you."

The Black Lake — February 14th (early evening)

Vernon paced back and forth anxiously on the far shore of the Black Lake. He had tasked a pair of what he hoped were reliable second-year Hufflepuffs to locate Seungkwan and bring him to the Black Lake, where he would get in a boat that he had charmed to row itself across the water. He had spent more of half of the time between the day he had talked to Seungcheol and Valentine's Day panicking over what to do, then spent the remaining time trying to get everything together, including practicing the spell to make the boat row itself for several days. That morning, he had packed a picnic basket full of all of his boyfriend's favorite things, as well as a blanket, and he hoped that his sincerity would come across.

Before they had started a relationship, Vernon and Seungkwan had been friends, and even then they had done something small and quiet for previous Valentine's Days, just because there was no one else they'd rather have spent that time with—and because Vernon had spent his first five years at Hogwarts avoiding any girls who even looked at him longer than necessary. So really, he didn't need to worry. Seungkwan just happened to be his boyfriend now—it wasn't as though he needed to be impressed further.

Vernon looked down at the picnic basket sitting on the rather cliché red and gold patterned blanket and wondered if it was enough.

Maybe I should have gotten flowers? he fretted.

It wasn't so much about the fact that it was Valentine's Day than it was about how much Vernon had been worrying about Seungkwan since his late friend's birthday.

Every time the Gryffindor had tried to approach his boyfriend to try and get him to open up, Seungkwan had always come up with excuses for why he couldn't talk and would busy himself with something else. It was frustrating, of course, but it was more anxiety-inducing than anything—and more than once Vernon wondered if he was just a really bad significant other who didn't know how to talk to his partner just right in order to get him to confide in him.

"Agh!"

Startled out of his own self-wallowing, Vernon looked up to see the boat that he had charmed to carry Seungkwan across the lake rocking back and forth wildly—with Seungkwan in it.

Privately, Vernon was relieved that the boat was already pretty close to shore, but he didn't think that his boyfriend would see it that way—and definitely not after the boat tipped to one side, dumping Seungkwan into the lake that was surely still freezing.

"Oh, no," Vernon muttered, covering his face with his hands. "He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me then bring me back so that he can kill me again."

Peeking through the gaps in his fingers, he watched as Seungkwan swam the remaining distance from where the boat had tipped over to the shore, weighed down by his school robes. A fairly decent swimmer from his years spent growing up on an island, Seungkwan was letting his fury propel him forward with surprising strength. Dripping wet and looking absolutely furious, he stomped up the bank towards Vernon, who silently sent prayers heavenward and hoped someone heard him.

"Hansol Vernon Chwe!" The Hufflepuff tore through his full name. "You'd better have a good explanation for this!"

Not my government name, Vernon grimaced.

Lowering his hands from his face, he said uncertainly, "Happy... Valentine's Day?"

Seeing that Seungkwan was opening his mouth to deliver what would probably be the human equivalent of a Howler message on a Monday morning in front of the entire Great Hall, Vernon interrupted.

"Look, I didn't mean for you to get dumped into the lake!" he blurted out. "I've been planning everything since the beginning of the month and with everything else, I didn't have that much time to practice the spell on the boat. It was just supposed to bring you across the lake without you having to do anything, I swear!"

Seungkwan held up an index finger, cutting him off. Vernon shut his mouth abruptly, anxious, as his boyfriend leaned his body to one side and peered over his shoulder at the blanket laid out behind him with the picnic basket.

"Kwannie," Vernon began.

Seungkwan made a noise, his index finger still raised. He inhaled deeply—dramatically—then lowered his finger.

"You planned all of this?" he asked.

Vernon nodded rapidly.

Seungkwan exhaled.

"Okay, walk me through your vision." The Hufflepuff gestured with his hands for his boyfriend to proceed. "Tell me what was going through your mind when you came up with all this. I want to know."

"Well, it's our first Valentine's Day together as a couple." Vernon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "And I know that you've been really sad since Binnie's birthday..." When he noticed Seungkwan had stiffened at the mention of his friend, he said defensively, "I tried to talk to you about it so many times but you wouldn't talk to me! I thought that maybe I was doing something wrong, or that you felt like you couldn't trust me to open up... so I talked to Seungcheol hyung."

"And he told you to drown your boyfriend in the Black Lake?" Seungkwan deadpanned.

"He told me that I should use Valentine's Day as an opportunity to show you that you're not alone," Vernon corrected him gently.

Seungkwan huffed, wringing the water out of his robes as he avoided looking at the Gryffindor. Vernon watched him for several minutes while he fussed over his water-logged clothes before he finally straightened up and took a few steps closer to him.

Vernon held his breath.

He's going to break up with me, he chanted in his head. He's realized how bad I am at this whole relationship thing and he is going to break up with me.

"I'm only going to say this once, so you'd better listen," Seungkwan told him sternly, holding his face securely between wet hands. "Well, not only once, because I will always tell you good things about yourself so that you're aware of your own worth, but regardless! Me not talking to you about Binnie has nothing to do with how good of a boyfriend—or even how good of a friend—you are. You are doing wonderfully, I promise. Do you understand? Nod for yes, shake for no."

Vernon nodded, face still trapped between Seungkwan's hands.

"It's very difficult for bossy people like me to let go," the Hufflepuff continued, trying to sound flippant. "We need to be taken care of just like everyone else, but we're not very good at letting other people take care of us. And it shows in our dynamic, even after we got together," he added, using one hand to gesture between Vernon and himself. "So me avoiding talking to you every time you tried to talk to me about Binnie is not because you're not good at being supportive, because you are—it's because I'm not good at being vulnerable. Understand? Nod for yes, shake for no."

Vernon nodded again.

"I appreciate the effort you put into this." Seungkwan smiled at him, the effect only slightly diminished by his bangs still dripping water onto his face. "I appreciate the effort you put into us, all the time; and I'm sorry that I made you feel as though I didn't."

"I know how hard it is for you to say sorry first," Vernon teased, his voice muffled by the squishing of his cheeks. "So I appreciate it."

"Yah!" Seungkwan pinched his cheeks gently. "But you're right, and I really am sorry. You're an amazing boyfriend and I love you." Vernon jumped, not expecting the sudden declaration when neither of them had never said those words before. Noticing this thanks to his grip on his face, Seungkwan only held on more firmly. "Do you understand? Nod for yes, shake for no."

Unable to do anything else, Vernon nodded.

"Good."

Seungkwan loosened his grasp and stroked the apples of Vernon's cheeks with his thumbs affectionately.

"Because I do. Love you, I mean. Since first year, when you told those boys off in class for bullying me," he clarified unnecessarily. "I knew then and there that you were someone I could count on, and you've proven time and time again how right I was—although, of course, I've never been wrong in my life. So I'll tell you that I love you all the time, because you need to hear it. I want you to hear it and know that I mean it, because I've never meant anything more in my entire existence on this wretched planet."

Vernon swallowed.

"Kwannie, I—"

Seungkwan stopped him, putting a hand over his mouth.

"Tell me when you're ready," he said. "I'll still love you then, even if you make me wait for a long time. But don't make me wait too long, okay? Nod for yes, shake for no."

Vernon nodded.

#GeniusLabStorytime #SEVENTEEN #SEVENTEEN x Hogwarts #TW: mentions of Moonbin from ASTRO #VerKwan is the main attraction #MinWon but like... platonically #Seokmin's admirer is secret because they're too shy to reveal themselves #JunHao but like... also platonically?#Joshua has an admirer because of course he does #Chan is still having dalliances with the Beauxbatons girl from the Christmas AU #JeongCheol #And a new pairing that wasn't established in the Christmas AU... SoonHoon!#There's all kinds of tension but everyone is happy in the end #It was so much easier to write the Christmas AU because they were more grouped together #I had to come up with something for each of them to do whether as a pair or on their own with an original character #Carat Day #Valentine's Day

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