#the grief of leaving his friends behind. presumably without even saying goodbye.

[4suitedplayingcard]

so i just finished listening to The Champion of Ennui today. my suspicions abt hylics being a secretly depressing game were right.

[foreverwcnter]

cardigan / p.p

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

summary: “you thought i was dead?” after you go missing with no leads to what happened, you are presumed dead and peter writes letters addressed to you, to help with his grief

word count: 3k

requested: no

warnings: semi character death, heartbreaking angst :( , fluff

a/n: this is for @ariistotles​ lovely writing challenge! i am using prompt 9 for my fic and i hope you guys enjoy!

two days. forty-eight hours. two thousand eighty minutes. one hundred seventy-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. that’s how long you had been missing. the team of avengers, including desperate peter parker sat around a table, staring at the very little evidence they had of your disappearance. it was only two nights ago when you and peter had been cuddled in bed and you had left to go home. 

evidently, you never returned home. 

peter ran his hands through his hair with frustration, eyes bloodshot red from crying. he was terrified and guilty, knowing if he had just walked you home, he wouldn’t be staring at the picture of you on the screen in front of him.

“we have no leads,” sam wilson stated,” the only evidence is this cardigan.”  

peter knew you were wearing it when you left. he recognized the cute patches of stars scattered on the knitted sleeves and the oversized buttons along the ends. it was always so big on you, he didn’t think you would have bought it from that thrift store, but the moment you laid eyes on it, you fell in love with it. you had fixed up the holes and messed up seams, it looked like something someone would shove under a bed. but you took it into your care.

“she was wearing that after she left my apartment,” peter explained, voice cracking. the entire time he had been silent as they investigated your disappearance. “she almost forgot it but i reminded her.” 

peter took a glance at the cardigan, instantly taking notice of the blood-stained sleeves. 

“we have to find her,” he finally added, one tear slipping down his cheek. tony hadn’t spoken at all, and peter knew why. peter understood what it felt like to lose someone. there was a chance you’d be found again, but it was slim. you were just gone. 

the next few days were hell for peter. they hadn’t found anything and all he wanted to believe was that you were at least alive. everyone around him seemed to be giving up already. peter had even overheard tony talking with the other avengers, thinking that you weren’t alive and he’d have to plan a funeral. peter refused to give up, he couldn’t believe the idea that you were dead. there was only a glimmer of hope left in some of the avengers. every day that passed, the more likely it was that you were dead. it wasn’t until two months of searching, they finally gave in.

tony kept the funeral private. it took everything in peter to just crawl out of bed that early morning and may had to help him tie the tie for his suit. his hands trembled too much to get it straight. he didn’t want to believe you were gone, but by this point, he was giving up himself. everything at the funeral was dark, the opposite of what you were like. you always had the brightest of smiles, your hair would always smell like fresh daisies from a meadow. everyone who gathered around was silent, staring at an empty casket, watching it get lowered into the ground. 

peter found himself alone after the casket was six feet under and collapsed to his knees in front of the gravestone. tears openly fell down his face, as he stared at the name written on the stone. y/n stark. he wanted to stop making events like this so familiar. first his parents, then uncle ben. now you. the love of his life, the person he dreamed of marrying. some people see this as an unattainable fantasy because when you are young, they assume you know nothing. but peter was sure. you were supposed to be the one. his endgame. but you were gone. 

a hand tapped his shoulder revealing the familiar face of tony stark. seeing him made peter fall apart as tony pulled him into a tight embrace. peter finally let it all out. with his shoulders shaking with sobs and soft cries leaving his breathless lips, peter parker was finally showing his grief. 

grief was a fickle thing. it constantly changed. peter had been in such disbelief for the past months you were gone, but now he was trying to bargain with what happened. he gave his suit back to tony, he moved on from being spider-man, and tried living normally. he was trying to change himself for you. but it was hard. it took every amount of effort to bring himself out of his bedroom. the only thing that kept him going was the desire to do things you would want him to do. it didn’t take long for aunt may to take peter to a therapist. they could help him sort out the pain he was holding onto.

“tell me about her.”

“y/n was the perfect example of joy,” peter admitted with a desolate tone. “she was always looking to help anyone before herself. something she got from her dad. her hair always smelled amazing, like a garden almost. she liked to braid it, and stick flowers in it. y/n got the idea from tangled…” he paused, staring at the ground. he had planned a date before you went missing. he was going to take you to a lantern festival. where you could recreate the scene from tangled. peter knew how happy it would have made you. but you were gone. you’d never see the lanterns, you’d never live that dream.

“she had a cardigan… something she found at a thrift store, on the ground without a price tag. it had holes in the sleeves and she chose to patch them up with little stars. it was always too big on her, y/n always wore it with everything. i never saw her without it. she once forgot it when we left for a road trip, made me turn around to go get it for her but i was happy to,” a rare smile came onto peter’s face as he thought about the dimples on your cheek when he had put the cardigan around you. the smile faded,” it was the only thing they found when she went missing. it had blood on it and i know something bad happened.”

“i couldn’t stop it. i couldn’t save her.”

the woman in the chair across from him said nothing, just stared at peter as he avoided her gaze. after a couple moments, she began speaking,” you need to figure out a way to say goodbye to y/n. i understand how hard that may seem, but there are ways. i want you to write letters addressed to her. just start with something normal, you don’t have to address her death in the letter, just make it between you and her. the more you write these. the easier it’ll get to let go. “

peter stared at a blank piece of paper for hours that night. he didn’t know how to start. every time he picked up the pen his hand started shaking and he was too scared to write your name. with a frustrated groan, he jumped onto his bed, face buried in his hands. normally, peter would go to you to talk out his stress, to feel your arms around him but he couldn’t have that now. 

that’s when he took notice of your cardigan hung on the corner of his bed frame. he took it into his hands, letting out a sigh. it was the only thing he had left out you. the only part of you that was left behind. so peter put it around himself, pulling his arms into the sleeves. it felt like you had your arms around him again and gave him the boost he had been looking for. 

so he wrote:

my love y/n,  

i don’t want to talk about you being gone yet, just let me have this moment to tell you the things i didn’t say. you were perfect. you are still perfect. i know that sees unbelievable to you, but every moment i shared with you, i cherished like a child would cherish a new toy. 

except i never grew tired of you. you always came with new surprises. whether it was the time i thought you had never watched star wars and you admitted to being one of the biggest star wars nerds there is or the time i caught you crying to rom coms when we were friends, wishing you had that kind of romance. you were a hopeless romantic. mj said you were always looking for a disney prince of your own. i hope i was good enough to earn that title. i hope i gave you your dream love story. because every moment i spent with you was something exhilarating and i ever wanted to pass it up. 

 i just hope i was enough for you.

peter knew the letter was short, but he couldn’t bear to finish. tears marked the page with scratched out words and messy handwriting. he was supposed to write a letter every day. every day until he was able to say one word. goodbye. 

slowly he started getting there. very slowly. 

every day he wrote a new letter. they consistently got longer, but there were days it got short. he tried his best to avoid talking about you being gone. sometimes the letters were simple, saying i went to the grocery store for the first time in awhile. i saw your favorite snack and ended up buying it. i never liked it until now. i guess you influenced me so much.

there were harder days though. these days the paper would be stained with tears and may would come into his room and would find him crying. those letters always had the words “i miss you” and questioned why you had to go so soon. 

there was only one thing he always did when he was writing these letters. he was always wearing your cardigan. he even began wearing it just around the house or to school. may never failed to notice and would wash it for him to wear the next day when peter forgot. having the cardigan around him made him feel comfortable and safe. almost like you were right with him. he even wore it to his second visit with the therapist, four months after your disappearance 

“it’s getting easier to write the letters,” the brunette boy admitted, fiddling with the ends of the sleeves. “i’ve wrote so many already. it’s almost like i can still talk to her, even when she’s gone.” 

the woman smiled. “that’s good peter.”

“but remember, the goal isn’t to hold on, you have to let go. you have to say goodbye.” 

peter hated the sound of it. he couldn’t imagine a life without you in it, he couldn’t imagine moving on from you because every day he still missed you more than anything. 

it took another six months for him to finally write a final letter. ten months after you had disappeared.

my love, y/n, 

this isn’t an easy one to write. these past few months have been hell but i’ve rolled with the punches. i just left flowers at your gravestone. chrysanthemums, your favorites. it’s always been hard seeing your name on that stone and not seeing you next to me.

i miss every inch of you, y/n. i miss the feeling of your lips on mine and the tender kisses you’d press on my neck. i miss watching you fall asleep, i miss running my hand over your back while you snored. i miss seeing your beautiful face, the one that never failed to make me smile. every time i see a star wars movie come on, i’m reminded of your constant rants about padmé and anakin’s romance and how badass all the women of star wars are. i even still think about the day i met you. we were just kids, and you pushed over some other little kids for me. i think that was the day i knew you were important. it only just now dawned on me.

and the best part about you was when i felt like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite. just like the one you used to always wear.

but i think the one thing i miss the most is just your voice. you always talked me to sleep on rough nights. it’s the same voice that got me through the trials of being a hero, the one that comforted me after hard patrols and nightmares. it was the one that sang ‘i can see the light’ from the lantern scene from tangled everytime we watched it. it’s the one i miss the most and i’d do anything to hear it again, y/n. 

but for now, it’s your turn to listen to me. and listen closely. i love you. you were my soulmate and i still think you are. i loved you then. i love you now. and i’ll love you forever. we’ll see each other again, because you always come back to me. you’re my angel. my love. my dream. my soulmate. my darling. the love of my life. we’re meant to be together. i know one day we’ll find each other. and when we do… i’ll never let go of you again. 

y/n stark, just do me a favor. keep on being you. wherever you are. i’ll keep on being me. i’ll carry on for you.

so now i just have to say one more word. one more word that isn’t forever because i know i’ll be with you. you’ll come back to me. i’ll come back to you. because loving you is like being drunk under a streetlight. it’s the thrill of living life and some kind of light near you. even without the light being right beside you. being in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me. 

so here it is, y/n. here it is.

goodb- 

peter was interrupted as he wrote, a hard knock from the door of the apartment. for a second, he waited, but it came again. it sounded urgent by how heavy it was and how frantically the person was knocking. he stumbled out of the chair, leaving the open letter on his desk as he fumbled with the lock. once it opened, peter had begun thinking he was dreaming.

because the person standing in front of the door, was you. 

with his jaw slacking, peter rubbed his eyes trying to process what was in front of him. and to think he was about to write the word goodbye, and here you were, back from the dead. his eyes watered slightly as he opened his mouth to speak but no words came. he couldn’t comprehend the fact you were alive. “ y/n… no… how? how are you here? you were dead… this can’t be real.” everything hit him like an oncoming train, he was convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating. was this a test? was this testing him to see if he was actually prepared to say goodbye?

“you thought i was dead?” 

this was what brought peter back to reality. he fell to his knees so fast in front of you, the tears falling down without a doubt as sobs left his thin lips, the ones you used to kiss. everything from the past few months came pouring out. “you were dead. everyone gave up and i didn’t want to but i did. i gave up, i failed you. i did the one thing you told me not to do because i was weak. and i couldn’t hold myself together at your funeral…” you knelt down as he sobbed and choked out every word, pulling him to your chest. “i wanted you to be the one to help me, but you weren’t there. you weren’t here to hug me before and i tried holding on for you. i tried and i thought i was never going to get over it and move on and i never did. i never did, y/n ,because i love you and you are the only person who will be constant in my life even if you were to fall out of love.”

“and i wrote you letters. i wrote you so many letters. i was writing one… just before you came… it was the last one, y/n, the one where i was going to say goodbye and now here you are,” peter’s arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer.

“you don’t have to say goodbye anymore, pete,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head before he finally got a clear look at you. you looked no different than before. you had a a few bruises here and there, but you were alive. peter couldn’t believe just how much time passed and you were still the embodiment of beauty in his eyes. 

a smile formed on his face, a dimple showing on his cheek,”i knew you’d come back to me.” 

with that, he pressed his lips against yours, a hand moving up to cup your cheek as yours moved to his hair, running your hands through the messy brown curls. your lips were soft, just like they used to be and they tasted just like your favorite cherry chapstick that you used to always use. peter relished in the tender moment, butterflies coming alive in his stomach as he pressed his other hand on the small of your back. you both pulled away gently, eyes still closed with foreheads resting against each other.

“i love you,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to the tip of peter’s nose.

he returned it with his own, murmuring,” i love you more.” 

his heart fluttered in the comfortable silence and the air still held the same amount of love and adoration for each other as it did before. peter never wanted to give it up and he never wanted to let it go. with the cardigan still wrapped around his shoulders and your arms around him, for the first time in months, peter finally remembered how it feels to be secure and safe. 

you both finally stood up, fingers interlocked and right before you both headed inside, you glanced at peter and asked with a laugh:

“is that my cardigan?”

permanent taglist — @ariistotles​  @saturnpeter​ @skymoonandstardust​ @hey-its-grey​ @pufflypuffle​ @uglypastels​ @learning-howto-be-myselfx3​ @simi11​ @abby-blxck​ @pxterbpxrker​ @euphoricmads​ @neverlandparker​ @fairytaleparker​ @dahliaspidey​ @thegirlwiththeimpala​ @pterprkr​ @cosmicholland​ @theamazingtomholland​ @xoxohollands​ @screamholland​ @beiroviski​ @sunflowerhollands​

peter parker taglist — @myslightobsessions​

[kingreywrites]

So Pardon The Dust

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2493

Summary: When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years.

Note: this is bittersweet, but the idea couldn’t leave me alone, and i had to write it out! so yeah, edmund’s death is heavily talked about, be careful if that’s not your thing! I just love Destinies Collide, and love what-ifs, so this story was born from there asghdh

Read on ao3

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king has been dead for years. 

They don't know that. What they do know is that once their travel in a shaky gondola over an immense rift ends, everything seems too easy. The kingdom is dark, cold, smells of dust and rust permeating the air, and it makes it hard to imagine that anyone has ever lived in such a place. But Rapunzel's hair pushes her forward, and they don't spend any more time thinking about it. 

They enter the equally dark and cold castle, searching for the moonstone. 

Desperate for a flicker of warmth, Lance lights a fire in a lifeless living room with no windows. Eugene's gaze is drawn to a painting, throning above the fireplace and depicting a man and a woman he presumes to be the king and queen. 

He cannot explain the deep uneasiness he feels at the sight, or even why he can hardly tear his eyes away from the picture. His heart is racing, and he explains it by blaming it on his concern for Rapunzel. 

The queen's smile remains etched in his mind as he moves forward. 

The king has been dead for years. They don't know it, but Eugene finds a room filled with overhanging statues and, sitting in front of a gigantic door, is a tiny skeleton covered in too big clothes and dust. A dark crown still hangs grotesquely on its head, but the first thing Eugene sees is the purple gem necklace between the fingers of its single hand. The same as the queen's in the painting. 

Eugene has a bitter taste in his mouth. Rapunzel holds his hand, also upset, and he remembers that they are here for her, and for her destiny. He holds her fingers tighter between his, and they move toward the door. 

The ghosts are… certainly a surprise.

Death is not something new to Eugene, yet he can't help but feel nauseous when the king's ghost appears so close to his own skeleton, eyes full of a melancholy and anger that only he understands.

He doesn't seem to be capable of speech. He just groans and attacks, mindlessly guarding the stone that cost him his life. When Adira arrives to help them, she calls him Edmund, a soft grief in her voice, and Eugene keeps the name in a corner of his head. Edmund. Not a ghost, not a skeleton, but Edmund, who protected his kingdom until he died trapped within it.

Finally, Eugene is the one who destroys his statue. He cuts off its head, and tries to forget how a few seconds before, it was his own that could have been lost, if the king's axe had not struck beside it. Luck saved his life this time.

Adira asks Rapunzel to enter the moonstone chamber by herself. She says that it's her destiny, and hers alone. Eugene wants to protest, worry burning in his heart, but he doesn't even have the time - Rapunzel looks at Cassandra, and announces that the three of them will go inside. He should be relieved, but he can't help but take another look at the king's- Edmund's body. Many people have died for this stone, and the more time passes, the more terrified he is of what awaits them on the other side. He knows death, more than any other member of this group probably; he's been around it personally. He promised himself when he came back to life, that he would never let Rapunzel die the way he did, slowly and violently, when she has so much to live for.

He doesn't know where this promise will lead him. 

When they arrive in the Dark Kingdom, the king is dead. They enter easily, and though the ghosts of past rulers stand in their way, the path to the moonstone is far from the most difficult adventure he has ever experienced. Eugene is worried, of course he is - he's afraid of the conclusion of their journey, afraid of what he cannot predict. Rapunzel tells him she loves him, and he almost wants to throw up, because they're in the middle of a kingdom murdered by that exact stone Rapunzel intends to grab. I love you too, he thinks, but can't manage to say, because the words sound like a goodbye, and he's not ready for that. He'd die one thousand times for her, if she asked him to. He'd die for her against her will too, if necessary, but he knows he can't get in the way today. As desperate as he is to protect her, he knows how much she values being able to draw her own path.

He wants to grab the moonstone first because he loves her, and because he loves her, he stays back.

That's not the case for everyone. He notices too late Cass running for it, and Demanitus' warning echoes once again in his ears, mocking now that the only thing he can do is try to pull Rapunzel to safety as the world explodes in colours. The king is dead, and their friendship with Cassandra is too, the shadow of Gothel haunting Rapunzel once again despite how much she deserves to be free from it. Cassandra flees, Eugene hurts his arm when she pushes him away, and Rapunzel runs after her, desperate to salvage what can be.

It doesn't amount to much, in the end.

Things settle down, as much as they can while Rapunzel still sits listlessly near the broken bridge Cassandra left behind, and Eugene goes in the castle again, in search of bandages this time. His left arm hurts.

He doesn't expect to find Adira, standing silently in front of... Edmund. Her back is rigid, her mouth in a straight line, but when he calls her name, he sees a foreign melancholy in her eyes. He doesn't know her that well, but there's a lot Eugene can understand from looking into somebody's eyes.

Adira sighs, shoulders lowering, and he's sure she hears his unsaid question. "I shouldn't be surprised," she says, but it's clear that in a way, she is. "I… knew, that King Edmund was not well, when we left. I often considered that he might very well be…" she trails off, her eyes falling on his body again.

"It's different to be sure," Eugene responds softly, his voice loud in the silence of this immense room. Watching them - Adira, and this skeleton, barely hanging together enough to recognise a human shape - it was difficult to conceive that once upon a time, they had stood here together, alive and happy, perhaps. He can't imagine what it feels like to see an old friend this way, with no warning. "Adira…"

"It's okay, Fishskin," she smiles, and in her voice, he could hear the echoes of all the time Rapunzel told him she was fine, because she didn't know how to act when she was not.

He barely knows Adira. Both because he didn't ask, and because she didn't want him, or anyone, to know her. But he can guess easily that her life had never been one of peace, not even before leaving the Dark Kingdom, and losing contact with the other members of the Brotherhood. He doesn't think she's unhappy, per se, but he- he knows, they all know, especially now after everything that happened, that anger and fear and grief are not emotions that should be let to fester until they explode. Maybe it's his worry for Rapunzel speaking; maybe he's confusing everything, and Adira is simply dealing with the situation the way she wants to, but before he can think better of it, Eugene takes a step forward, and asks her if she wants to bury the king's body.

"To- To give him a better resting place," he explains awkwardly, her eyes piercing right through him. He's ready to say sorry and hope she doesn't kill him for overstepping her boundaries, but, to his surprise, she softens, a genuine if sad smile on her lips.

"Actually Fishskin, that's… a great idea."

And so they do it. Adira finds a bear hood that the King used to wear - Dabney, she says reverently - and they place his bones in it, carefully moving everything in tandem. They don't really talk while doing it. There's not much to be said. Eugene thinks of this king, who was so desperate to save his kingdom that he doomed it, and he thinks about death, too. About how lonely it is.

Adira leads them down a few corridors, and they emerge in a small, grey looking garden. They walk until they find an unmarked tombstone.

"The queen," Adira announces shortly, and Eugene wonders if she helped bury her too.

It's not the first time Eugene digs a grave for someone. He remembers starkly getting out of the tower with Rapunzel, both of them entirely different people than who they were before, and finding a cloak and ashes at the bottom of it. He remembers how quietly distraught Rapunzel had been, and how he had proposed to bury what was left of Gothel.

Shaking his head, he tries to think about something else, but it's hard given the situation. His arm aches at each of his movements. Surprisingly, Adira breaks the silence, and that's enough to distract him.

"I often disagreed with King Edmund," she says, without looking at him. "He was a good king, but his duty to the moonstone blinded him to the bigger picture, and I was afraid that it would lead him, and us, to lose everything. I was right, as I often am," she chuckles, but there's no mirth behind it. Simply grief. Something that can't be quite put into words.

"How did he lose his arm?" Eugene asks, voice low as they finally lower the bones into the ground. His eyes catch the sight of the necklace falling aside, and when they're done, he picks it up, thumb running over the smooth surface of the gem.

"The queen died," Adira whispers. She's looking at the necklace too, when he raises his head. "Edmund's grief led him to act on the anger he had been repressing for too long, but the moonstone was much more powerful than he imagined. Its retaliation costs him everything he held dear."

Gently, Adira takes the necklace from him, and Eugene can't explain the impulse that makes him want to hold onto it for a little while longer.

He's sentimental, he reasons. There's something deeply touching about this man dying while looking at the last thing connecting him to his late wife. These are good explanations, but neither of them addresses the unease and bitterness rising in Eugene's throat. He doesn't understand it himself.

Adira looks at the necklace for a long time, emotions he can't name in her expression. Memories she will not share make her frown, and Eugene feels more and more like he doesn't belong in this moment.

"Should we… bury that with him?" he asks awkwardly. Adira bites her lips, and finally shakes her head.

"This necklace was special for the queen. I know she intended to pass it down to her children."

A terrible voice in Eugene's mind reminds him that it's too late - they both died, and that necklace, that tradition, died with them too. He's hit by the tragedy of it all again, relentlessly reminded that the king passed away long before anyone could try to save him. And they would have, Rapunzel would have convinced him to let her through, she would have given him faith, Eugene is sure of that. He thinks that's why he's angry, too. The king has been dead for years, maybe, alone and desperate until his very last moments. And Eugene, Eugene wishes to go back in time, and give him another chance, get him the help he needed before it was too late.

He has never been good at accepting unhappy endings.

"When… When King Edmund banished us from the Dark Kingdom," Adira continues, "he also made another sacrifice. He sent his son away, when he was barely a baby, to be raised far from the moonstone and its dangers."

Son. A baby, sole survivor of the royal family, who probably doesn't know he is. A baby, who isn't one anymore now, but who is probably alive, and the thought is enough for Eugene to feel something new - he'd call this hope, but he's not sure that it fits. Closure, perhaps.

"You want to give their son the necklace," he smiles shakily.

"That's what needs to be done," Adira agrees, before putting away the necklace in her pocket. The gem catches the moonlight one last time, shining brighter than before, and it's easier for Eugene to let go, this time. "However, I did not keep track of the prince. I don't know what became of him, after we left, but I will keep searching until I find him."

"Hey," Eugene grins, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little, "you searched for the mystical and maybe non-existent sundrop, and you found it, so I'm sure a prince will be no trouble. And if you need anything, we'll be happy to help," he adds, more earnest this time.

There's a newfound warmth in her eyes, and she inclines her head, acknowledging his words. The situation feels easier, somewhat. They finish replacing the dirt on top of the king's body, and Adira places a little stone to mark the emplacement.

The king is dead, and Cassandra is gone, but Eugene wants to believe that they all can find their own healing in time.

One wrong move reawakens the pain in his arm, and Adira gauges him when he flinches. She tells him that if there are any medical supplies around there, they're probably in the King's personal quarters.

With her instructions, it's not too hard to find them. The bedroom he finds is enormous, which only heightens how empty and dark it feels. Blindly, Eugene makes his way to a window, and pushes the heavy curtains away, letting the moonlight flood the room, and reveal the ambient dust like as many little stars in the night sky.

One side of the bed is unmade. Next to the other, there is an empty crib.

His heart is racing, and he can't explain it. He turns to the bedside table, and does find what appear to be bandages, next to a pile of papers, so close to the bed that it is easy to guess that the king often looked at them. 

Eugene approaches. He tells himself, without much conviction, that he should not look. That even in death the king deserves to keep his privacy. Whatever these papers are, they must have meant a lot to him, keeping him company in his darkest hours, and Eugene doesn't belong in this story.

It only takes him a step, and a second, to recognize his old wanted posters.

[melancholydreadfuldream]

tell me some things last

Pairing:  13th Doctor x Reader

Summary: There are always someone who dare to use the Doctor's companion against him/her, most of the times the Doctor is able to rescue them but we know better, don't we? The Doctor can't save everyone.

   (yn) (ln) traveled with Twelfth Doctor and Clara Oswald in the tardis after a chance meeting that involved another alien. Clara welcomed you with open arms, claiming the two of you will be a great friend.

  You were not as close with the Doctor as Clara is. You understand they have a longer time together. You love travelling with him despite him being kind of intimidating. Clara is the only one who can seem to manage him. You were shy around the Doctor, often not knowing what to say when you two are alone. You can tell the both of you are relieved whenever Clara is on the room as she never fails to lighten up the room.

  The topic regeneration come up when the Doctor and Clara accidentally mentioned his previous incarnation and his perchant for fish finger and custard. With the Doctor's  permission, Clara told you bit about regeneration. She even showed you a picture of Eleventh Doctor. You could hardly believe they are the same person.

  Clara is reminiscing about her past adventure with Eleventh Doctor. You thought that version of the Doctor sounded like a fun person but you accidentaly spoke that thought out loud.

  The Doctor is offended and exclaimed he is fun too, proceed to show off how fun he is much to Clara and your amusement. Three of you have fun together. You dare say that you and the Doctor grew closer just a tiny bit than before.

  And then things went downhill when Clara died on trap street. He is gone leaving you to deal with Clara's body.

  The Doctor is gone. You don't know what happened to him. You couldn't begin to even ask someone for help. You waited for him but he never come back. You fell into depression as you couldn't handle the loss of Clara and the Doctor. You meet a kind nurse named grace who help you deal with your depression.

  You missed Clara and the Doctor so much. You wish he would come back for you. Of course, he didn't. He didn't owe you anything, so, why would he come back for you?

  Grace thought you were experiencing a broken heart, that a lover has left you behind. You couldn't exactly tell her it was an alien that broke your heart and not even a lover. You would feel silly. But also you are grieving the loss of a very good friend.

  A year later, you accidentally stumbled upon incident that is alien in nature and that is when you met Bill and Nardole. You overheard them mentioned the doctor and demanded to see him.

  You finally see him again. You were at loss of words. He was surprised to see you but he smiled kindly. You slapped him hard without thinking.

  "Okay. I deserve that." He begrudgingly said as he rubbed his cheek.

 "I'm glad you think so." You coldly replied.

  The Doctor glanced at your state and his eyes softened considerably. "How have you..."

  You throw your arms around him as you pulled him into a hug much to his surprise and protest. You discreetly smelled him, you missed him so badly, you were so grateful to be able to find him again.

  The Doctor introduced you to Nardole and Bill and invited you back on board of the tardis.

  You were hesitant, a year ago, you would agree in a heartbeat. But were you ready to jump back into the disarray life that is the Doctor?

  Bill is very friendly and she start animatedly chatted with you, wanting to know more about your past with the Doctor once she figured out that you were his past companion.

  From Bill, you found out that the Doctor is a teacher in the university where she worked at. You were surprised and very curious, wanting to know how he handle being a teacher for a bunch of students. Bill, laughingly, told you the Doctor's teaching method is weird.

  At the end of the day, you decided you wanted to stay with him again if he will have you. And it helped that Bill latched herself on you almost immediately. But Nardole seemed not too keen of having you around but Bill said not to mind him.

  The Doctor and Nardole are guarding a mysterious vault. Although curious, you know better than to pry or asking the Doctor directly. You believed you haven't yet earned his trust.

  Eventually, you meet the sarcastic, mary poppin-style Time Lady who, according the doctor, is currently undergoing a rehabilitation.

  You don't like Missy for her sharp tongue and she seemed to look down upon you, Bill and Nardole.

  The Doctor wanted to have a test run with Missy having to answer a distress call and solved the crisis with the help of Bill and Nardole. You opted to stay behind with the Doctor and you were lucky you did so.

  When Bill got shot by some random blue alien and then later converted into the cyberman, you were traumatized by the whole thing. When the strange mechanical men come in to take Bill away, you volunteered to go with them so you could better watch over her much to the Doctor's dismay. You weren't sure where you get the courage to step forward from but you did it, albeit it is a very stupid move on your part.

  But those years with Bill, taking care of each other, gossiping about the Doctor's angry eyebrow from the supposedly live monitor, you couldn't regret it. Bill is your friend and you care about her. You dont want to lose her like you did Clara.

  When the old man, Razor, betrayed yours and Bill's trust by letting the doctors on that ship to operate on the both of you, you were in despair. You watched as they ripped you and Bill away from each other and you were made to watch as they operates on Bill.

  Her pleading voice and screams of pain forever seared in your mind. You never hated someone as much as you hated Razor and all the people in that stupid ship.

  You were about to undergoes the converting surgery when the Doctor and Nardole burst in and rescued you. You were hysterical when they finally freed you from the straps.

  You cried as you told them that Bill has been converted. The agonized look on the Doctor's face is too painful to watch. He hugged you, kissed your forehead as he soothed you. You were surprised by his sudden affectionate attitude but you were too distracted by what is being done to Bill and the fate you nearly shared.

  In the face of Bill's misery of having been turned as cyberman, you felt guilty. When the Master revealed himself as Razor and mocked you and Bill about it, you very nearly lost your marble as you wanted to attack the miserable bastard but the Doctor pulled you back and away from him.

  Everything spiralled out of control and next thing you know you woke up on the tardis floor with the Doctor yelling that he refused to regenerate.

  You and the Doctor were able to says goodbye to Bill, Nardole and Clara through the testimony project.

  The Doctor finally regenerated as you saw him glowing yellow and then exploded into a blonde woman. But before you could say anything, the tardis shook violently and ejected the Doctor out. You were lucky you weren't ejected as you were not sure you could survive the fall.

  The next few days, you worried sick about where the Doctor is. You couldn't talk to anyone but the tardis and frankly you felt silly talking to the box.

  You nearly got a heart attack though when tardis voice interface got activated at the word 'help' you uttered. It showed a hologram of Twelfth Doctor asking you what you need of help for.

  You felt grief suddenly at the sight of him. You knew the Doctor survived but he had changed into a new person now, a woman at that. You wondered if she would even still want you around now.

  When a woman you presumed to be the new Doctor dressed in a new clothing stepped in with three other people, you were so glad and a bit wary.

  The Doctor seemed happy to see you as she pulled you into her arms before introducing you to her new friends.

  That is when you found out about Grace, a kind nurse who used to help you with your depression. She met the Doctor and she died. You felt like you got slapped in the face as you are starting to worry that it will be a matter of time before it was your turn to die next if you continue to stay with the doctor. But your heart hurts at the thought of leaving the doctor behind. You were not ready to let her go. And so you cling to her for as long as you can.

  You were initially worry that the Doctor would ask you to leave as despite the ship is bigger on the inside, it might be a tad crowded with 5 people on board. And frankly you weren't sure you are ready for adventure so soon. You don't want to leave her or the tardis but you declined on some adventures with the fam, preferring to stay on the safety inside of the tardis.

  The Doctor is concerned but understanding and didn't pressure you.

  The fam are nice enough and love to chat with you, asking about your past with the Doctor. It hurts to talk about the past which included losing two best friends so you remained mostly vagues.

  Eventually, you started to go on adventures again but you were mostly wary believing trouble is a foot everytime you stepped out of the tardis and let face it, with the Doctor, the magnet for trouble, you should expect it.

  Maybe it was just your feeling but you felt the Doctor is a tad bit protective of you. And yet, she also keep her distant from you which make you anxious that your time with her might be over soon.

  At new years, when a dalek took control over Ryan's dad body, you refused to let him go as you fight to keep him safe along with Ryan. In your mind, at the times, you refused another loss.

  When everything is safe and sound, the Doctor is looking at you with a look you can't decipher.

  It hit you suddenly that you might have a strong feeling for the Doctor. You decided to take a short break away from the Doctor and tardis to sort out your feeling but you made her swear up and down that she will come back for you again when you are ready. She promised.

  Of course, when you finally returned to the tardis, you found out from the fam that they had meet an enemy of the Doctor, the Master. You felt like you were being kicked in the gut. You hated that person for his part with Bill's miserable fate and nearly yours. It was a different incarnation but still he already in your blacklist.

  You noticed the Doctor look gloomy, sad and just distant and you hated it. She seemed so far from you eventhough she is just a few steps away from you.

  You wanted to ask her what is going on with her but you dont think she would ever open up to you. But you still have to try, right? So you approached her and as you predicted, she shut you down.

  It kind of hurt that she still doesn't trust you but you tried not to take it personally. You tried to be good and less annoying for fear if you ask too much from her, she would turn you away for good.

  And then you and the fam meet Jack. Your heart nearly jumped at his warning of cyberman. The fam has yet to encounter cybermen but you did. The word alone enough to send you back to that flashback of being strapped down on the operating table as the doctors are ready to convert you.

  Jack and the fam look concerned at seeing your pale face and rapid shallow breathing.

  Yaz and Graham are able to calm you down when you finally told them about Bill.

  When you and the fam returned to the tardis, they delivered Jack's warning for the Doctor.

  You noticed the Doctor is staring at you at the mention of cyberman but she didn't say anything to you.

  The Doctor found you alone as you sort of barricated yourself inside a random room in hope to calm yourself down. She sat beside you without words. It was a somewhat comfortable silence despite at the beginning you felt like you have to say something to her but you found yourself speechless.

  You were glad she didn't ask you if you want to go home for in your moment of weakness you might say yes and you have feeling you will lose her for good if you did that. She would want to keep you safe and she might actually do that by leaving you behind on earth.

  It wasn't that long before Jack's warning of the lone cyberman coming true. It looked somewhat defective but still lethal and, of course, the shape of it alone is enough to make a mess of your mind.

  You have a panic attack again and the Doctor calmed you down with her soothing words and a gentle kiss on your forehead which reminded you a lot of her previous incarnation.

  Somehow you felt like you are having a moment with the Doctor and yet for some reason you cant quite grasp it. You just feel at lost.

  The Doctor left to deal with the lone cyberman and at the end of it all she has to surrender cyberium back to him. But, she planned to travel into the distant future to deal with Ashad and his armies.

  The fam eagerly wanted to help despite the danger. You felt like if you didnt follow through with  the rest, you were not good enough to be her companion. So, you forced yourself to overcome your fear.

  Of course, the moment you stepped out of the tardis, the dread filled every spore of your body and mind. You were paralyzed by it that you nearly collapsed.

  The Doctor has that look again on her face as she stared at you with sorrow. She told you to stay behind on the tardis and this time you didn't fight her on it. You recognized you are a liability currently.

  As you waited for the Doctor and the fam to return, you summoned the tardis voice interface again and tell it your fears. The hologram just stood there listening to your rants.

  You beginning to regret not going with the Doctor as hours passed by and no news from them. Your heart is clenched by the worry of losing the Doctor and the fam.

  "They will return soon. They have to be. This is the tardis. The Doctor always return here...eventually. They will be okay." You repeated that to yourself like a mantra.

  And you could finally be relieved of your stress when the door of the tardis opened up to reveal the Doctor. But, she was alone.

  Your face filled with pain as you thought of the worst. But, she quickly reassured you that Yaz, Ryan and Graham are okay. They were back on earth with another tardis. You were puzzled and asked her what has happened.

  The Doctor smiled brightly at you. It has been a while since last she smile so freely. She was about to explain when an alarm sounded loudly inside the tardis. Next thing you know, a bunch of Judoon were inside the ship and they were talking about how the Doctor is a fugitive to justice.

  Without thinking you stepped into the oncoming laser beam one of the Judoon shot the Doctor with. You and the Doctor materialized somewhere else, a prison in some galaxy. The Doctor is quick to catch you as you lost your balance as you are feeling disoriented.

  She reprimanded you for your reckless thinking. "That laser beam could have been anything. You could have died or worst splintered in pieces." She sounded angry.

  You didn't bother to defend yourself as you tried to compose yourself as you took on the new surrounding. "Where are we?"

  The Doctor is displeased for the change of topic but answered your question. She yelled at the ceiling, wanting to talk to whoever in charge of the prison.

  There is no answer.

  "At least we are together." You replied.

  She glared at you, making you flinch.

  For the next few hours, the Doctor is busy observing the prison she was in and sometimes yelling at the ceiling but she was ignored.

  When someone come in to give a tray of food for one person, the Doctor is quick to demand a meeting but that person ignored her too. She told you to eat the food for you both are going to here for a long while it seemed. You ate a little, leaving a generous amount for the Doctor.

  The Doctor is busy talking to herself and generally giving you a silent treatment much to your dismay.

  It was the next day someone come in and gave a prison suit for the Doctor to change into. The Doctor is quick to point at you, telling them they made a mistake in regard of you. The person seemed surprised to see you as the room supposedly a solitary prison made for one person and agreed to talk to their superior.

  It was another day before the door suddenly opened and two Judoon come in to read the Doctor's sentence. The Doctor interrupted them, wanting to negotiate your release.

  You were uneasy that she keep demanding your release and made no mention of defending herself.

  The Judoon glanced at you and nodded at each other before one of them stepped forward to grab your arm.

  The Doctor stepped in front of you demanding to know what action they will take in regard of you. She wanted to be sure that you would be return safe and sound back on earth or at least on her tardis.

  The Judoon pushed the Doctor away from its path and made a grab at you. 

  You were scared, not wanting to be apart from the Doctor. She warned you not to fight them so you followed the Judoon out of the room while the Doctor continued talking with the other one.

  That was the last you saw of the Doctor.

  7777

  You were pushed into a room and was left there for hours. It was a smaller room and looked like some interrogation room. You tried to talk to anyone you see there but they mostly ignored you. You paced back and forth as you bite your lips nervously.

  You can't keep track how long you were there but suddenly the door opened and entered an eye-patch lady with a twisted smile on her face. She wasn't alone. There is a military man with her and someone dressed like a doctor.

  "Hello, (yn) (ln)." The lady greeted you with a grin. "It has been a while."

  You were confused as you never see the lady before in your entire life. "How did you..."

  "...know your name? My dear, I made you." She answered with a creepy smile.

  You frowned in confusion.

  "You have done well in regard of the Doctor."

  You have a bad feeling toward this lady and the way she mentioned the Doctor with contempt made you realized she must be an enemy of the Doctor. You took a step back away from her.

  The lady nodded at the man dressed as a doctor and he walked toward you.

  You stared at him warily.

  "Ceres, would you like your treatment now?" he said gently at you.

  The reaction is immediate. All tension left your body as you mechanically answered, "Yes, please."

  The man gently pulled you to him.

  "I want to see everything she collected so far from her times with the Doctor." Madam Kovarian instructed the man.

  The man obeyed.

  The colonel glanced at you and then at Madam Kovarian. "What about the Doctor? She would have try to find out about her whereabout."

  The unforgiving, evil smirk on her face nearly tore her lips apart. "Fabricate something. Let's just say that little (yn) here is mistakenly executed after a case of misidentify. Leave a vague trail with the cover up for our dear Doctor to find. Let her suffer for the death of a friend." She said with disdain. "Get her someone to blame, a scapegoat. The oncoming storm would want revenge, let her get it."

  The colonel nodded his head and made the preparation needed.

  7777

  You blinked your eyes as awareness finally returned.

  A young man smiled down at you.

  "Did I fall asleep?"

  "For a little a while."

  "Can I go now?"

  "Go ahead."

  You nodded as you slowly left the room.

  "Oh, Ceres." The young man suddenly called out.

  You turned around to face him in a very serene manner.

  He smiled genuinely and said, "Welcome back."

  You smiled before leaving him without any care in the world. You greeted a few other people on your way out with a kind smile.

  As you left, Topher turned to the other occupants in the another room. Adelle and Madam Kovarian stepped into the room. Topher gave the intimidating lady what she wanted, a black box containing your memory and feeling, everything you see and heard as (yn) (ln).

  Madam Kovarian look pleased with herself. She has yet to determine whether the information she gathered on the Doctor will be useful but one thing she knew, she could use (yn) as a weapon against the Doctor for she knew the Doctor's weakness has always been his/her companion.

  "It is a pleasure doing business with you, Madam." Adelle replied with a smile but it was uneasy. She doesn't trust the woman but she seemed to have friends in high place for she was able to locate the dollhouse and even borrowed one of her active dolls for a long term of period. She tolerated her only because she donated a generous large amount of money for the corporation.

  "I might have the need to use that girl once again in the future." Madam Kovarian said.

  "Of course."

  7777

  After Jack broke her out of prison, the Doctor is filled with dread upon meeting the fam and realized you were gone. Before she could investigate on your disappearance, the fam has warned her of Daleks invasion on earth. Despite worrying about you, the Doctor had to focus on solving the current crisis.

  At the end of the day, against Jack's protest, the Doctor actually planned to break in back into the prison, wanting to find out the prison record on you. As Kovarian predicted, she did find the trail of a cover up for prisoner 1423588. She froze after she uncovered the details and the fact there is nothing left of you to find.

  Jack, Yaz, Ryan and Graham froze at the fury emanating from the Doctor. They couldn't even properly grief for their fallen friends as they scrambled around trying to calm the oncoming storm.

  She was frightening. Her friends are all afraid of her, save for Jack who understood the kind of loss she is feeling.

  Yaz has begged her not to leave her behind again. Ten month has been an agony to her. However, to Ryan, what happened to (yn) is the last push he needed to actually left behind the world of the Doctor and Tardis. Graham, not wanting to left Ryan alone, also left with him. But they are all worried for the Doctor.

  For their sake, the Doctor lies that she will be okay, that she understood that (yn) wouldn't want her to do anything reckless. She was heartbroken by yet another loss of friends.

  Jack also stayed with Yaz on board of the tardis. Unlike the others, Jack knew the Doctor lies, she always lies. After Yaz is asleep, he volunteered to help her in her quest for revenge so he could watch over her and maybe pull her back if she went too far.

  7777

  You were imprinted with the identity of someone called Adalind. You were supposed to attend a party in a hotel with your pretend fiance. But thing get out of control when alien crashed the party.

  The Doctor, Yaz and Jack were there to answer some distress signal from said alien.

  "(yn)?" The Doctor called out in almost awe. She felt like she was being punched in the gut when she saw you.

  "Sorry? I think you mistaken me with someone else." You replied in polite manner. You were different, you have different hair colors and eyes. You were dressed elegantly. You looked confident and comfortable with yourself.

  "(yn)..." The Doctor clutched your arm insistently.

  You forced a smile at her. "I'm sorry, I'm not (yn), my name is Adalind."

  "You...really are not (yn)?" Yaz asked hesitantly. She was shocked with your appearance.

  You shook your head as you pulled the Doctor's hand off you.

  The Doctor pulled her sonic screwdriver to scan you but to her surprise, the conclusion is inconsistent. A more thorough scan revealed that Adalind is definitely not (yn), different brainwave pattern and all. Her hearts broke at the result. But, of course, she should have known there is no way (yn) could be alive. But, she still suspect Adalind. Could she be an echo of (yn) like what happened to Clara? But the brainwave pattern...

  Jack and Yaz are quick to distract the Doctor with the distress signal they have come for in the first place and it worked, for the duration of the mystery, the Doctor is able to push the thought of Adalind out of her mind.

  Adalind and the rest of the guests were interrogated by the Doctor when someone suddenly dropped dead. 

  Yaz had talked to Adalind's fiance and she thought he was suspicious for his reluctant to talk about how she met Adalind. She told Jack about it and he agreed he seemed fishy.

  Jack had flirted with Adalind but was quickly stopped with a mean glare from the Doctor.

  After a series of events, the Doctor finally is able to solve the crisis and save most of everyone in the hotel included the alien in question. 

  The Doctor, Yaz and Jack had spoken with Adalind and they like you enough to warrant invitation onto the Tardis. Of course, the truth is, the Doctor is wanting to investigate more on Adalind's similarity with (yn).

  However, Adalind, despite your friendliness with them, has refused the offer 'opportunity of a lifetime' as you had deduced their ulterior motive regarding a certain (yn). Yaz had gave you her number in case you changed your mind.

  Adalind bid the three of them goodbye and left the hotel alone without the fiance.

  Unbeknownst to you, you were followed. You walked alone for a long while before a black van suddenly stopped near you. A man got out of the van. "Ceres, would you like your treatment now?"

  "Yes, please." You answered immediately and the man led you inside the van.

  The Doctor, Yaz and Jack is quick to use the Tardis to follow the van. Thankfully, Jack apparently has put a tracker on Adalind when he is flirting with her. The Doctor is impressed with him.

  7777

  Topher has just finished the usual procedures of erasing the Adalind imprint and returning you to default Ceres personality. Your caretaker has also informed him on the unexpected variable during your current engagement and he had called Adelle on it when he found elaborate tracker on your person.

  When Adelle is informed that the unknown variable has called you with the name (yn), she cursed. She would have to call on that unpleasant woman again regarding the imprint (yn) (ln).

  You were oblivious to the tension above as you serenely making an origami paper much like a child.

  Somewhere within the building, the tardis materialized inside as the Doctor and companion got out to inspect the surrounding curiously.

  The room screamed zen mood all over the place. There are people who were doing stuff like meditating, drawing, making flower arrangement, etc. But, they didn't seem concerned or alarmed at the appearance of the tardis or the three strangers.

  "What is this place?" Yaz asked out loud.

  Jack noticed on the railing above, a young woman dressed as a dominatrix walked to a room but not before winking at him. "I like it."

  The Doctor, however, laser-focused on locating you and she finally spotted you, seated on the floor in front of a small table, smiling as you made origami. She quickly approached you and called you Adalind but you weren't responsive to that name.

  You finally noticed the three strangers that are staring at you. The blonde woman looked sad as if someone shot her puppy so you offered her your finished origami.

  She smiled at you but you think her smile still sad. She asked your name as she bend her knees before you. 

  "I am Ceres." You replied.

  "Ceres..." She repeated.

  An alarm sounded loudly. A set of man and woman dressed in black suit immediately surrounded the room, pointing their gun on the strangers. The other caretakers herded the rest of the people inside the room to evacuate to another room.

  The Doctor noted these people are almost childlike, not showing any fear or anxiety at all, as they were led away from there. She had prevented you from leaving when you are about to make your move too like the rest of the dolls.

  Adelle stepped into the room and stared hard at the intruders.

  The Doctor pulled her psychic papers and as Adelle read into it, she groaned and instructed the guard to back off. 

  "They have VIP invitation from Rossum." Adelle said in annoyance. "I really wish they warned me before letting VIP guest into the building." She led the Doctor, Yaz and Jack into her office.

  The Doctor wanted you to stay with her but she has to find out more about this place from Adelle and it wouldn't do to alert them of her intention with you.

  7777

  Adelle offered the guests a bourbon for a drink but they refused. The blonde woman seemed to be in charge and is very eager to find out what the Dollhouse has to offer.

  The Doctor introduced herself and her companion.

  Adelle has revealed that she knew that they made use of a psychic paper, she was warned of it but she saw no harm in telling them about the Dollhouse. After all, in a short a while, they would no longer be her problem.

  "Who warned you of it?" The Doctor asked her but she only smiled.

  The Doctor and Yaz look horrified after her explanation of the purpose of the Dollhouse.

  "I know some people have reservation about our Actives. Robot. Slaves. Mosty, people think they are very good liars. They are, of course, the opposite." Adelle started her speech. "An Active is the truest soul among us."

  "The only way to imprint a human being with a new personality is to remove their own. Completely." The Doctor said in horror.

  "But they are not gone. We made a backup of all their original personality. The Actives here are under five-years contract with us. After five years, we will return them to their original personality with a few tweak as they wanted on our contract. They left here a rich person and no longer have to deal with whatever issues they have before they entered a contract with us." Adelle said. "We eased their suffering."

  The Doctor demanded to see the technology they used on these people.

  They met Topher who animatedly explained with a smug look on his face about the machine. He was surprised when the Doctor is able to keep up and talk technology babble on par with him. He was impressed with the Doctor and her with him.

  "Is that what happened to (yn)?" Yaz asked. "Did she entered a contract with you?"

  Adelle looked almost sorry to tell them the truth.

  "She is not real, is she?" The Doctor said. "She is an imprint."

  "The real (yn) (ln) has died a long time ago. But we were requested to copy her brainwave pattern, apparently, she fits some criteria that our client wanted." Topher revealed.

  "Some criteria...funny, kind and brave...exactly my type..." The Doctor snorted in derisive. "The exact companion I can't resist..."

  Both Yaz and Jack stared at the Doctor in confusion and dread as they realized someone ordered one of these Actives, imprinted with a personality of some dead woman that they think will catch the Doctor's interest...as a spy?

  "Who is the client?" Yaz demanded.

  "That is classified." Adelle has said.

  The Doctor snorted. "You already blabber your mouth about all of these, why keep that one a secret?"

  "This is not personal to me, Doctor, I don't know or care who you are. You are our esteemed client problem and she is on the way here to see you. You will soon find out who it is." Adelle said.

  Yaz and Jack look nervous at the mention of the said client coming for them.

  The Doctor glared at her firmly. "I want to talk to (yn). Imprint her back to...Ceres."

  "We can't. The imprint on (yn) (ln) is no longer in our hands. We handed it over to the client per her request."

  "Well, that is not entirely true."

  Adelle turned to glare at Topher. "You didn't."

  "I made a backup, backup of the imprint." Topher sheepishly grinned, sorry-not-sorry.

  Adelle rolled her eyes in fondness at the young man as he grabbed something from the vault of black boxes of imprints and located the imprint he wanted.

  You were led back into the room and into the machine where the Doctor and companion witnessed for the first time how the machine worked.

  7777

  You woke up to the concerned face of the Doctor and Yaz.

  "Doctor? Yaz?" You blinked in confusion. "Where am I?"

  Jack stared at you in pity.

  "What was the last thing you remembered?" The Doctor asked.

  "I was with you and then I was in the interrogation room. There was a woman." You tried to recalled your last memories.

  "Tell me about the woman. What does she look like?" The Doctor requested.

  You described the woman and blanched at the fury on the Doctor's face as she, in disdain, uttered a name.

  "Kovarian."

  The Doctor explained in brief that Kovarian has a grudge on her and if she is coming to the building, they would have to expect a fight on their hands.

  Jack brought gun and ready for a fight.

  You were confused by the whole thing and demanded explanation.

  The way the Doctor glanced at you, like she was disgusted or sad, you didn't understand what to warrant you that expression. She can't still be mad at you for jumping in front of the stupid laser beam, can she?

  Eventually, they told you the truth.

  You were having a hard time believing them. "I am real! Not an imprint!" You yelled at them in denial.

  You saw that the Doctor truly believe that you are not real, that everything you experienced together are all lies. You were angry and sad. You left the room, unable to face the Doctor any longer. You cried on the stairs away from everyone.

  If it was all fake, a fabricated everything, why does it feel so real? Your feeling is real and valid and you realized right now you are hurt by the Doctor and it hurts so bad it has to be real. How can they say that?

  You couldn't believe the true you, the original personality, has given up on your body and mind, to be a plaything of people for five years. Given that you are on loan for some enemy of the Doctor that probably has time travel on their hands meant that for you it might already be longer than five years.

  "Why woud I do that?" You asked yourself out loud.

  "You could no longer live with the consequence of your own action." Adelle answered for you. "And you no longer have to."

  "What could be so bad that I, that she would do that?" You asked her.

  She didn't answer at first. "Do you really want to know?"

  You glanced at her, at her serious expression on her face and realized you are afraid to find out about the original you because that would be like admitting that you are not real and you are not ready.

  Suddenly a bunch of men dressed like an army entered the building, quick to block the all possible way out.

  Adelle sighed in exasperation.

  7777

  Jack was able to escape the resulting chaos as the Doctor and Yaz surrender to face the client they have been waiting for.

  "You really have a perchance to ruin my plan, don't you, Doctor?" Kovarian look annoyed at the fact the Doctor found out about (yn) before she could use you against her and that she doesn't even surprised to see her again.

  You and the Doctor glared at the woman.

  "Hello, Kovarian, colonel run-away." The Doctor coldly greeted them.

  The colonel twitched at the cursed nickname the oncoming storm has bestowed upon him for his part in kidnapping Amy and Melody Pond.

  Kovarian glanced at the Doctor and then at you. "I see you get (yn) back after all." She glanced at Adelle and Topher in disapproval. "What do you think of my gift to you, Doctor?"

  The Doctor glared at the woman. "What do you hope to accomplish from using her?"

  Kovarian smiled menacingly at the Doctor. "I suppose it is no longer matter since you already found out that (yn) here is a fake."

  You bristled at that. You were angry and ready to snap back at the stupid eye-patch lady but to your surprise, the Doctor pulled you away from the woman.

  "You got me now. What are you gonna do about it?" The Doctor taunted her instead.

  Kovarian smirked. "Oh you will find out." She suddenly recite something in that flat tone of her, a twisted version of the tick tock goes the clock that the Doctor recognized but instead of using River's name, this time, it was yours.

  The reaction is immediate as you clenched your head in pain.

  "Oh shit." Topher recognized it as a sleeper mode within an Active, probably a combat-ready personality one.

  Yaz grabbed onto you, worrying about your state but Topher warned her to step away from you.

  You stared blankly ahead.

  "What have you done, Kovarian?" The Doctor demanded even though she already guess what happened to you.

  You walked toward the colonel who gave you a gun and you proceed to point the gun at the Doctor.

  The Doctor was able to duck thankfully. She was correct, after all. Of course, she is going to use you as a weapon like she did with River.

  Yaz, Adelle and Topher also duck on the floor.

  You stride in confident as you commanded the Doctor to kneel.

  Having a gun pointed at her, the Doctor has no choice but to obey.

  Suddenly a different sound of alarm ringing through the building and it made you groaned in pain and you were knocked out cold.

  Topher realized it was emergency alarm that will immediately wiped every imprints in the building and since you are currently an imprint, you were effected too. 

  Before anyone can do anything, there is a blackout and the shooting started causing chaos.

  The Doctor crawled near Yaz and covered her with her body.

  When the blackout is over, the Doctor looked up and froze when she saw River and Jack together with guns, incapacitating Kovarian men.

  "Hello, sweetie." River greeted the Doctor with her usual flirty tone. "Loving the new look."

  Jack has somehow get into the tardis and asked it for help in getting more people to rescue the Doctor and the machine has led him to the Doctor's wife.

  The Doctor is momentarily distracted by the appearance of her wife. She is happy to see her again despite knowing the heartaches she would later feel again, having to say goodbye and return her beloved wife to the correct timeline and erased River's memory of her current incarnation.

  Kovarian has lost once more to the Doctor and River. She is pissed but there is not much she can do except apparently destroy the imprint (yn) she has on her person, essentially killing the chance for (yn) to return or so she hopes. She was petty and she wish to hurt the Doctor anyway she can.

  The Doctor glanced forlornly at the destroyed piece of tech that carried (yn) within. To tell the truth, she has no idea if she would want to bring (yn) back again.

  You slowly woke up to Yaz's concerned face. "Did I fall asleep?" You asked her.

  Yaz's face fell at that. She recognized Ceres for her childlike look.

  "For a little a while." Topher answered.

  You smiled at him as he helped you up.

  The Doctor glanced at you sadly.

  River glanced at the Doctor curiously and then at you. Jack has filled her in about you before.

  The Doctor's hearts nearly tear apart when Topher had said the backup imprint of (yn) he made also got damaged during the shooting. Was (yn) gone for real now? She didn't even get to say goodbye.

  She wasn't the only one who is in grief. Yaz is sad as you were her friend too.

  7777

  The Doctor would have like to shut down the Dollhouse but settled on the demand for the release of the original personality of you be returned and released from the Dollhouse service. She didn't want to see you used by anyone ever again.

  Adelle agreed and being generous enough to release you with more money than the contract stated. 

  The Doctor warned her that the tech they used is dangerous and someday some people are going to want to use it, abuse it, for their personal gain.

  Adelle reassured her that she won't let that happen. She care for the Dollhouse and the Actives.

  The Doctor watched as you, the real you, talked to Adelle. You looked very beautiful at that moment but she noticed the underlying pain on your eyes. She had read your file and watch your recruitment video. She knew the reasoning behind your acceptance of the Dollhouse contract. 

  You bumped into her and apologized politely. There is no recognition on your eyes upon seeing her. 

  The Doctor's hearts ached as she forced a smile at you.

  You walked away without turning back, passing Yaz and Jack without so much a look.

  Yaz watched you go with a look of grief on her face.

  7777

  River comforted the Doctor the only way she could as she suspected that (yn) is someone dear to the Doctor. River has the damaged tech from Topher unbeknownst of the Doctor. She is hoping she could fix it and maybe lessen the pain in her wife's eyes. But she knew it was a long shot so she didn't dare to alert the Doctor of her intention. 

  After saying goodbye to River once more, the Doctor keep her mask in place for her companion's benefit.

  Yaz wanted to check on your well being and she obliged because she has a duty of care.

  They didn't approach you, only watched you from far away.

  You didn't look happy but you make do. You live well with the generous amount of money on your bank account.

  The Doctor and Yaz left the sight of you and back into the tardis.

  The wheezing sound of the tardis caught your attention as you glanced around in curiosity before shrugging and resumed your walking.

     A/N: So, yeah, finally a sort of crossover fusion of doctor who and dollhouse. It has been a while since I last watch dollhouse so I might get some fact wrong but plot holes whatever, right? November and Whiskey are my favorite characters on Dollhouse. Guess the reader's situation is similar to that of November but without the sad ending. Also, what am I even writing? I knew the plot fell flat in regard of how Kovarian going to use the reader against the Doctor. I don't feel so good now but as usual I'm just gonna post it and run away.

I hope this is entertaining enough for a good read. Thank you for reading. Hope you have a good day. Stay safe, everyone.

     Where do we go from here?

[ev-pierce-writes]

The Heir

The Heir Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, masturbation

Notes: I recognize this isn't actually what season 3 will be like but I just need season 3 to come and its not coming fast enough so I'm taking it into my own hands to write whatever I want. I just want the little green alien baby and his space cowboy dad to have a cute reunion is that too much to ask? Self-insert, with reader as "you" but I avoid Y/N stuff. Narrator's perspective refers to Mando as Djarin, Din's perspective is written as Din. Some back and forth with that. I took some liberty with the characterization as well. The rest is my own!

---

The throne room was silent save for your voice echoing from the high ceiling.

"Tell Mon Tarrow that his trade agreement still stands, as long as he keeps up his end of the bargain," you said to the hologram flickering before you. "We get our shipments, he gets his. That is all."

With a swipe of your hand, the hologram disappeared and you leaned back into your seat. This job was difficult, organizing and controlling the most heavily trafficked trade routes in the galaxy. It was not one you had chosen for yourself. But for generations, your family had been in control of the planet Nhora and its lunar outpost, maintaining its status as a neutral party throughout several civil wars, uprisings, revolutions, and revolts. You had inherited that neutrality. Despite attempts from both the Republic and the Empire, your rule had withstood their attacks, keeping peace with your people and ensuring the wealth of successful trade routes.

Turning to your advisor at your elbow, you began to discuss the redistribution of the year's crops when the large doors across the hall opened. It was uncommon for someone to interrupt your daily briefings, though not disallowed. You had an open-door policy when it came to your people; anything that needed your attention should be brought directly to you. It fostered communication and understanding. But the individual who interrupted you was not one of your subjects and was, to put it simply, completely unexpected.

Your advisor immediately silenced, as dumbstruck as you, and the only sounds came from the creature huffing and puffing his way toward you, mumbling some garbled non-language.

Creature was the best way to put it. He was small and green and wore a sack for clothes. Though you couldn't see his legs, they must have been tiny, for he wobbled very slowly towards you. And his ears, good grief those ears, were so large his head teetered back and forth as he walked. The throne room was already large, but it was made even larger by the tiny figure before you, a child, you realized, as he stumbled closer. You eyed the child suspiciously before giving your advisor a look that said, who is this? She only shrugged.

Perhaps this was one of Skywalker's new playthings, you thought. That strange Jedi was always passing through with some oddity or another to trade for supplies. He knew what you liked, gems and stones from other lands, flowers with unique scents, fabrics spun from the thread of ice spiders (very dangerous to come by). In exchange, he had free access to your palace as he pleased before heading off again to who knows where. But this was new. Skywalker never brought you living things that moved of their own accord.

You stood, gathering the long skirts of your robe and stepping off the dais upon which your throne sat. You weren't particularly fond of children, but the sudden appearance of one purposefully crossing the long marble hall and heading straight for you was intriguing. You met the child halfway, stooping over to get a closer look at him, and noticed a fine layer of hair on his wrinkled head.

As you bent over, the child looked up at you and cooed, a little smile on his face. He was admittedly a bit cute, though incredibly ugly.

"Hello, little thing," you said, addressing the child directly. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, of course, just gurgled strangely. A tiny three-fingered hand reached toward you as if asking to be picked up. You ignored him and stood up straight instead, turning to a guard and sending him out to look for the enigmatic Jedi who was sure to be close behind.

Apparently, the child didn't like being ignored. You felt a sudden tugging at your collar as if someone had taken hold of your necklace and was trying to yank it from your neck. Looking down, you could see the child was still at your feet, hand in the air, but now his eyes were half-closed. You realized with a mix of horror and curiosity that the little one was pulling at your necklace, though not with his fingers but rather with his mind. Perhaps you could have tried to stop him, withheld the piece of jewelry from him, but you were too dumbfounded to try. Why he wanted the chain around your neck you were unsure, but the child would have it one way or another.

The necklace broke with a snap and flew toward him, which he caught in one green paw. The astonishment hung in the room; most had never seen the force in action like this. But you knew.

The force was with this one. Now, you were certain he had to be with the Jedi.

"Luke Skywalker," you said with accusation in your voice as he finally entered the throne room, following behind your guard. "I am not taking care of this child for you if that's what you're expecting. And I want my necklace back."

Skywalker smiled as he entered and kneeled to address you. It wasn't necessary to bow before you, but the Jedi had always been a bit of a stickler for tradition. You took it as a sign of friendship.

"Don't worry Your Majesty, Grogu and I will be on our way shortly. He just needs a... special diet that I cannot provide for him."

"Grogu?" The little child looked up at you when you said his name. His mouth was wrapped around the metal ball that had hung from your neck moments before. It had been a gift from your mother, a symbol of the planet you ruled over, to be passed on if you had a child of your own. Now it was covered in baby slobber. And yet, your heart softened at the sight of the green child. Relenting to his pleading eyes, you reached down and picked Grogu up, holding him at arm's length as he played with the metal ball.

"Where did you find him?" you asked Skywalker as you led him from the throne room toward the banquet hall, your advisor trailing behind you, just as curious about the creature as you.

"I did not find him," Skywalker replied. "A Mandalorian did."

A Mandalorian? Your heart rate picked up, curiosity piqued at the thought. You had only heard stories about their kind since their fall from the Council of Neutral Systems. And of course what your grandmother had told you of them. They were a conflicted group but you knew one thing for sure, they were not friends of the Jedi.

"I presume you are to train him now."

"To the best of my ability. He is the same species as my master, surprisingly strong despite his size."

In the banquet hall, you sent for a meal, setting Grogu down on the table and sitting before him. He was fascinating, despite his babyish mannerisms and the ball covered in his spit. But what you really wanted to know more about was this Mandalorian. The rumors had not escaped you, spreading swiftly through the trade routes, reports of the Darksaber's resurfacing, of those who tried to claim it. The planet Mandalore itself was relatively uninhabited, having been ravaged by years of war and conflict. Your trade routes were one of the only ones that extended that far to the outer rim as most didn't find it worth the trouble.

But if the Darksaber was truly back, and someone had claimed it, the Mand'alor may make a recovery. That could mean many things for your people, possibly a surge in trade or a new rival that was willing and able to fight for space. Mandalorians were known to be the greatest killers in the galaxy, after all. But you were getting ahead of yourself.

"The one who found Grogu, are they the one who claimed the saber?"

Concern flickered across Skywalker's face. "Yes, I believe his name is Din Djarin."

The baby's ears perked up at the name, glancing back and forth between the two of you. His giant eyes blinked slowly as he eyed your face.

"Is the Mandolorian worthy?" You were of course talking about the inheritance of the Mand'alor throne.

"He delivered the child. And refused the saber, at first. There is hope for those who are given the chance of ultimate power and deny it."

Refused it? So ruling a creed and a planet had not been his choice. Much like you. Perhaps there was a chance for the Mand'alor after all. You watched as Skywalker traded your necklace for an entire laas fish, which Grogu swallowed whole, fins and all. It was a disturbing sight.

---

Din Djarin could be a man of stealth when necessary. After saying goodbye to his son, he had accepted a ride through hyperspace from Boba Fett and Fennec Shand. But they had only been willing to go so far as Wobani, and he would have to make his way alone.

Though Bo-Katan had let Din leave with the Darksaber in tow, he could tell it had been with reluctance, and Din was sure this wasn't the last he'd see of her. Cara Dune had offered to follow him, but Din declined. This was a trip he had to make on his own.

Wobani was not the most welcoming of planets. The abandoned labor camps that had once been full during the reign of the Empire stood crumbling to dust. Some people had taken root here, making do with what was available.

But this was not where he needed to be. Din needed to keep moving, keep his eyes on the future, keep his mind off of the sad look on the little one's face as he'd been whisked away by a Jedi. Din felt empty without Grogu on his hip, hidden in his satchel or tucked away in his crib. Sure, Din missed having his ship, but he missed the child so much more.

The metal ball at his belt weighed heavy. He should have let him keep it.

But there was no turning back now. Din would allow himself one night of rest before moving on. There were no boarding houses on Wobani, though he'd asked around. And it wasn't like anyone wanted to house a Mandalorian. So Din settled for an empty, abandoned building, one that likely had held prisoners at one time or another. Now, there was nothing but a dirt floor and a wall to lean against. But it was better than nothing.

As the sun set, Din shut his eyes, ready for the next day to begin.

He was awoken not by the sun, but a grunting noise to his left. Din opened his eyes and adjusted his helmet to night vision, locating a massive heat signature through his visor. A large animal, crawling on all fours, appeared across the room. It hadn't yet noticed Din, more preoccupied with sniffing the ground with a large, whiskered nose. But even from this vantage point, Din could tell the creature had many giant sharp teeth, perfect for tearing at his flesh.

Maybe if he stayed absolutely still... Nope. That large nose turned in his direction and had him spotted in an instant. The options lay before him, run or fight, and neither seemed good. Shooting a blaster in this confined space was almost guaranteed to cause a ricochet and at the moment, the beast was blocking the exit.

But not the only exit. The beast began to approach, its long slithering tail making disgusting sounds as it dragged across the floor, sinewy muscles rippling beneath hairless skin. It moved slowly, but that didn't mean much. It probably thought it had found its next meal, a man in a suit of beskar. Din stood slowly, trying not to urge the beast to move any faster.

Last night, when choosing a spot to sleep, Din had noticed the small window above him. When you were constantly on the hunt or being hunted, having multiple escape routes was a necessity. And the window had seemed like a good enough option. Now Din hoped his judgment had been right. The beast was getting closer, giving him only moments to make a decision.

To reach the window, Din would have to turn his back on the beast, which he didn't particularly want to do. He would need a distraction.

The beast paused in its approach and then lunged, as Din aimed his vambrace, spraying it with fire. It reeled back, howling in pain, and he knew that was his chance. He jumped, fingers catching on the ledge and hauling himself through the narrow space. Din barely fit, especially with all his bulking armor and the few possessions he managed to carry. The beast he'd left behind was enraged, clawing angrily at the walls and snapping at his heels.

At last, he was able to swing himself from the window to the roof of the building, finding refuge up high. He laid back with exhaustion, listening to the sounds of the beast as it finally gave up on its query and left. Din wanted nothing more than to sleep, to forget the pain in his heart and calm his rapid breathing. Not much scared the serious Mandalorian, and despite the danger he had just narrowly escaped, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Above him, the stars shone dimly through the dusty clouds of Wobani's atmosphere. Somewhere out there was the kid. Din hoped he was happy.

---

Luke Skywalker and the child did not stay long. You were surprised to find that you actually missed the little bugger as you watched them fly away, a large supply of laas fish in tow. Though you were sure you'd see them again; Grogu's appetite was insatiable.

But there were more pressing matters at hand. If the Mand'alor were to resurface and become strong again, you had to be prepared. You wanted to have the upper hand and hoped that the trade relations that were already established with the desolate Mandalore planet would help in gaining their trust.

Though your advisors had recommended you give up on the planet, even demanded it, you had been unwilling to do so. The few who did live there desperately needed Nhora's help and supplies. They had little to offer in return and tended to be more of a burden than an equal partner, but it felt wrong to abandon that outpost. Now you were glad that you'd stuck to your convictions.

It was time to call a meeting of council members. Little was left of the Council of Neutral Systems since the fall of the Empire, but those who remained were essential to the maintenance of free trade. And if the Mand'lor were to return, the council needed to be prepared.

"We don't even know if this Mandalorian wants his planet back," General Tarrow was saying, his hologram flickering slightly across the table from you.

"It's better to be prepared," your advisor, Zena, replied. "Her Majesty has maintained trade relations with the planet despite their small numbers. We can use this to our advantage and get ahead of any potential military action they are willing to take."

"The fact that they could take military action is exactly why we shouldn't pursue relations with the Mand'alor," Tarrow countered.

Zena sighed, exasperated by the back and forth conversation that had been going on for the last twenty minutes. You could tell she was getting frustrated. "They deserve our respect, don't they? Innocent before proven guilty?"

"They've already proven themselves guilty, or didn't you study Nhora's history?"

The General made a good point, but it was always better to approach with peace than antagonism, you had learned. "I have reason to believe the one who claimed the Darksaber is of a different disposition, worthy, even," you said in Zena's defense.

"From who?" asked another council member.

"Luke Skywalker."

"The Jedi? I don't trust him."

"Well I do," you said, putting your foot down. "There's not much to be done at this time anyway. The reports are only rumors, after all. But we need to be open and prepared for the Mand'alor to return."

The meeting adjourned. Though no conclusions had been reached, you felt a shift coming.

---

When Din awoke next, it was the sun was up. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep again. Move. That was all there was to do.

Scrambling down from the roof that had become his bed, Din headed back toward the port he had come in from, hoping to find someone stupid enough who would accept a ridiculously small amount of credits in exchange for passage to the nearby planet Mandalore. He knew the task was impossible before he even asked the first merchant he found.

Time to change tactics.

Across the shipyard was a small transport ship. Din watched from behind some crates as a couple of droids loaded and unloaded cargo. It appeared the ship was manned entirely by droids and was getting ready to take off again soon. It would be a risk, boarding the ship and hijacking it. But smaller craft like this tended not to be very equipped for battle, and Din hoped he could use that to his advantage.

Keeping low to the ground, Din moved swiftly toward the transporter, staying out of sight of the droids. He hid next to the loading ramp, quickly climbing inside as it began to rise, signaling its imminent departure.

The cargo hold was tiny. The hulking Mandalorian couldn't stand up straight without hitting his head on the ceiling. Tight spaces didn't bother him, but he hoped that the rest of the transporter wasn't this small. Otherwise, this was going to be a long trip.

With the hum of the thrusters, the transporter lifted into the air, leaving the airspace of Wobani's shipyard. Din would wait until just before the ship entered hyperdrive to make his move.

The angle of ascent leveled and the flight smoothed, indicating they had made it out of the atmosphere and were heading swiftly toward their destination. The door leading to the cockpit from the cargo hold was thankfully not locked. With a shove, Din had the door open and the first droid in a headlock before it knew what was happening. One blaster shot to the central processing unit and the droid dropped, though not before making enough noise to signal to its copilot of Din's intrusion. And of course, it had a blaster.

The shot rang out, ricocheting around the tiny space, pinging off the walls and Din's beskar armor. Silently he thanked his laser-proofness, even as the shot knocked him off his feet and hurled him against the door of the cargo hold. His head slammed into the metal wall, blurring his vision. He would definitely have a headache after that one.

Stupid droids.

With a groan, Din heaved himself to his feet. Realizing that a blaster wasn't going to work, the droid stood, preparing itself for hand-to-hand combat. If Din hadn't been fighting for his life he may have found the situation funny, fighting in such cramped quarters. But the clouds hadn't quite cleared from his head and he barely noticed the tell-tale sign of the droid winding up for a punch. The droid swung out and struck Din squarely in the temple, sending reverbs through the beskar.

Dank farrik. This was ridiculous. He needed to focus, not be so distracted, but by what exactly? Din steadied himself and aimed his vambrace, blasting the droid with a shot that vaporized its CPU instantly.

Silence.

Shoving the now unmoving droids as best he could into the cargo hold, Din took control of the ship, rerouting the navigation system. Punching in the coordinates of the planet Mandalore, he shifted quickly into hyperdrive. The trip would take less than a day. But it was several hours of peace and for that Din was thankful, even if it meant no distractions from the big brown eyes that blinked at him every time he closed his own. They were so sad and--

Stop. Sleep. Move on. But they called out, even in his dreams.

Mandalore was even more deserted than Wobani. As the transporter eased out of hyperdrive, Din spotted several round constructions, which turned out to be domes as he got closer. Where was he going to land? There didn't appear to be a shipyard or trading post to accept incoming starships. No one connected to the commlink, requesting his flight information.

The planet was silent and gray.

Of course, it couldn't be that easy. As he prepared for descent, the rear detectors picked up on an approaching x-wing. Damn. Apparently taking out a pair of drones and hijacking their ship wasn't a free pass. Someone wanted their cargo back. And this ship was not equipped for that fight.

All Din could do was dodge as the x-wing rained fire. So much for a smooth landing. With a lurch, the left thruster was rendered useless and the transporter began to fall, rather than sail, toward the gray planet. Hopefully, Din could guide the transporter into a graceful crash and not kill himself on the way down. Seemingly recognizing that the ship was a lost cause and on its way to a crash landing, the x-wing swooped away, at least giving Din one less thing to worry about.

The ship lurched through the atmosphere, speeding too fast toward the ground and threatening to burn up as it went. The temperature inside the cockpit began to rise and Din felt lightheaded, likely due to the sudden force of gravity. He jerked up on the joystick, praying for a miracle.

With a defining blast, the transporter made contact with the ground. Din managed to remain conscious as the ship hit the sand, but only long enough to bring it to a slamming and skidding stop. And then everything went black.

It was hot. Too hot. And his mouth was impossibly dry. Din was barely aware of a pair of arms hooked under his armpits, dragging him away from the wreckage of the transporter, saving his life.

---

A year passed. Grogu and Skywalker visited again several times, though shorter than before. Little changed in the child's size, but he was stronger than before. You didn't even wait for him to steal your necklace, just handed him the small metal ball like a pushover as Skywalker restocked his ship.

And though you asked, pushed even, for details on the Mandalorian, Skywalker had little to say. The warrior seemed to have disappeared into hyperspace.

This lack of news was the exact reason why you were so shocked to find, not many days later, a suit of beskar armor standing in your throne room.

Zena had been explaining the benefits and disadvantages of increasing farming output as you walked to the throne room, but the pair of you stopped short at the door. A tall, gleaming figure stood in the hall, looking out a window, seemingly unaware of your presence. At the sight of him, the guards who had been flanking you drew their weapons, training their blasters to his back and stepping in front of you. It took you a moment to recognize the distinct shape of the helmet and the signet on his shoulder plate but this was unmistakably a Mandalorian, the Mandalorian, who had unwittingly laid claim to the Mand'alor throne. You held up your hand, willing your guards to stand down and let you pass.

"I'll admit, I am surprised to be in your presence, Mandalorian," you said. "Though not surprised that you made it in unseen. You'll have to teach me that one."

The man, Din Djarin you remembered his name to be, turned to face you, his helmet disguising whatever thoughts may have been written on his face. Of course, Din had known you were there, knew when you would arrive, knew exactly how many blasters were trained on him. But when he turned, the serious, threatening woman he expected to find was not there.

When Din had landed on Mandalore, it had been only your ships that he'd seen come and go. There was no official port or trading post, the locals explained, but Nhora's supplies came anyway, finding a way in the inhospitable desert environment that the remaining Mandalorians called home.

Reports of Nhora were mixed. Some were grateful for its help. Other's looked upon it with disdain, taking any acceptance of assistance as a sign of weakness. And rumors about the Nhora queen varied widely. Some claimed she didn't exist, was only a fabricated figurehead to maintain peace. Others described her as fierce and domineering, ruling with an iron fist and cultivating the illusion of order through force.

At first glance, Din knew you were none of these things. You were regal, of course, very obviously the one in charge. But your stance was warm and inviting, the soft features of your face drawn up into a smile. If anything, you felt more like an equal, rather than a royal who demanded authoritative respect. It was difficult for Din to smile, especially since the loss of everything he'd called family. But your smile was contagious. If not for his helmet, Din might have given his whole intimidating facade away. He was drawn to you, to your lack of fear, but he wouldn't let it show.

Djarin, though beneath the helmet he smiled against his will, appeared as the complete opposite to you. His demeanor was quiet and daunting, but he stood stiffly before you, as if unsure how you would receive him. He didn't bow or kneel or even address you by your title. And yet, though he could probably kill you and all the guards that surrounded you in the time it took to say his name, you felt no concern in his presence.

The memory of your grandmother's stories lurched into the forefront of your brain, dashing warriors, powerful and dangerous, yet righteous and honorable at heart. It made your heart beat faster. He made your heart beat faster.

"I heard you were looking for me," was all he said, modulated voice surprisingly calm despite the rush of emotions that flooded him. A man of few words, he got straight to the point. But inside he was wondering why you eyed him like that, with curiosity and diffidence, not afraid of him at all.

You nodded silently and took your place on your throne, unsure of what you would say next. How that news had reached him escaped you, as you hadn't been actively searching him out. Yes, you'd been wondering what had happened to him, what he planned to do. But you hadn't expected to meet him, not so soon. "Din Djarin, rightful heir to the Mand'alor throne. I wasn't anticipating this meeting for quite some time."

Though you couldn't see his eyes, the Mandalorian seemed to squint at you suspiciously through his visor. The sound of his name rolled easily from your tongue as if practiced over and over. "How do you know my name?"

"I know of the child you rescued. The one with the force." The Mandolorian took a step forward as if wanting to hear more. You leaned your elbow on the arm of your throne, one finger twisting nervously at the scarf of your headdress, anticipating his response.

"You've seen him?"

"Yes, a few times now. Skywalker prefers Nhora for restocking supplies. And Grogu is particularly fond of stealing things with his mind and swallowing his meals whole." The comment was meant to be a joke. Djarin did not laugh. He was watching your delicate fingers instead. "He is strong. Capable. A Jedi in the making. And you seem very attached. If I didn't know better I would think you were here for news of the little one."

"I didn't come searching for Grogu."

"I know. The Mandolorian don't simply come when called. They come when they need something. I heard what you did to Moff Gideon. How you refused the saber. I would be very surprised if there weren't some dangerous people after you right now."

Din sighed, knowing you had deciphered his intent without needing it explained to you. You were kind, but you were also sharp and perceptive, not wanting to waste time with small talk. Din liked that.

"I've seen your ships land on Mandalore. Nhora is the only one who still trades with the people there. I figured--" You realized he was asking for help but didn't know how to. Zena shot you a knowing look, recognizing that you had been right when you'd called that council meeting over a year ago. "I figured you could be an ally."

An ally. Perfect. This was exactly what you predicted. You wanted to rub your success in those snobby Neutral System faces, but you held your composure. This was your chance to make a connection, establish a rapport that would benefit you both, and protect your planet at the same time. If he needed an ally, you would offer it.

"Tell me what you need."

Djarin stood momentarily in silence, contemplating the consequences of what he was about to ask for. Was it this easy? Were you this willing to help every poor soul that came along? "I need-- I need a ship. And supplies."

"That's it?" It was suspiciously little if you had any inkling of the position Djarin was in. If he had seemingly disappeared for the past year, what struggles had he endured to make it here, to your planet?

"That's all I can afford. I don't have many credits left."

You laughed. You couldn't help it. "Credits? That's what you're worried about? I don't want your credits, Djarin."

Didn't want your credits? No one of sound mind gave anything away for free. You may have been generous, but there was no way you were that stupid. There had to be something else, he knew. "What's the catch?"

"The catch is that you rebuild a creed that was once my people's allies. And you defend us, the way you used to, from the inevitable. The Empire is still out there. It's naive to think they won't set their sights on us. But you-- you can stop them. So tell me what you need, everything you need, and I will help you. Do we have a deal?"

Zena, who had remained silent during the interaction, now leaned down and spoke into your ear. "Are you sure this is smart, Your Majesty? If the Council hears of your actions, they may not be very pleased."

"Zena, the Council has no control over what I do with my personal resources. So, deal or no deal?"

Djarin stepped forward, approaching you where you sat on your throne. Though you were seated above him, Djarin was tall enough to still stand at your eye level. He reached out a gloved hand, asking for yours to shake, you thought. His beskar glittered in the setting sun filtering in through the windows and sent you spiraling into thoughts of what he looked like beneath it all. But instead of shaking your hand, he simply held it and sunk on one knee before you, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and bowing his head. Had Djarin not been wearing a helmet, you were sure he would have kissed them. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said softly.

The act was ridiculous. Din knew that. You knew that. But it made your heart flutter even more than before.

"Oh for Maker's sake, this is absurd. Stand up, Djarin," you said, suddenly embarrassed, though you had to admit the sight of a Mandalorian kneeling before you would have made your ancestor's faint on the spot. "Let's find you a ship."

---

You weren't exactly sure what Djarin's rule about his helmet was. Would he take it off? Leave it on? But he needed to eat, so you led him to a private room for dinner, in case that's what he wanted. It would be naive to admit you didn't like the thought of being alone with him. You wanted to know how true your grandmother's stories were.

"I hope it's enough," you said, gesturing at the spread of food before him. "Please let me know if you need anything."

Djarin stood silently for a moment before sitting down heavily into his chair. He seemed exhausted, and though you couldn't tell with all that armor, it wouldn't have surprised you if he was injured somewhere under there.

"Thank you. Your kindness is much appreciated."

"It is per our custom. I'll leave you to eat." You turned to go and leave him in peace, but he stopped you with a gloved hand on your wrist. Though a layer of leather separated your skin from his, Djarin's grip sent a jolt up your arm.

"Why are you being so kind?" It was a genuine question, one you didn't know how to respond to. Tell him the truth? Make something up? But the man before you seemed so earnest that it appeared best to be honest. So you sat, directly across from him, and began your story.

"My grandmother was a fair and just queen," you began, folding your hands in your lap. "Sometimes to a fault. She ruled on her convictions and morals, not tradition or law. In those days, the Mand'alor still controlled much of the outer rim and fought endlessly with the Jedi. Nhora remained neutral, accepting any and all who needed assistance, regardless of creed. A young Jedi took refuge on Nhora, and according to custom, was given full protection. This was something my grandmother believed to her core. Something we still practice today."

"So you're nice because your grandma said you should be?" It wasn't meant as a jab, but suspicion laced Djarin's voice.

You sighed and continued the story. "The young Jedi did not arrive alone. He was followed by a Mandalorian, out for vengeance and retribution. He stormed the palace, the first time in history that our defenses were breached. Fortunately, the Jedi was able to aid our guards in the Mandalorian's detainment. But not before my grandmother fell deeply and madly in love with him."

"In love? With a Mandalorian?" It was hard to tell through the modulation of his voice, but Djarin sounded shocked and more than a little suspicious.

"Perhaps it was all the beskar," you said, trying to make another joke. Djarin still did not laugh though he cracked an invisible smile beneath his helmet. "But yes. Of course, it's only a story, but my grandfather was of Mand'alor, so there must be some truth in it."

"You are a descendant?"

You nodded. You'd never met your grandfather, as fathers didn't matter much to the matriarchal line of rule, but now, here you were, sitting before another Mandalorian, and the cycle continued.

What Djarin did next gave you a shock for the second time that day. With a click and then the hiss of hydraulics, he lifted his helmet from his shoulders, placed it on the table, and began to eat. You barely reined in the expression on your face, narrowly avoiding blanching at the revelation of his face.

Suddenly, it didn't seem so strange that your grandmother had fallen instantly head over heels for your grandfather after all, considering the man you found beneath the helmet.

The Mandalorian that sat before you didn't have the mean, hardened look you expected. His expression was soft, lips smooth and slightly downturned into a natural frown beneath the curve of a prominent nose. He hardly seemed to notice your stares as he dug into his food, his dark eyes staying fixed on his plate.

Djarin's dark hair was tousled and in disarray, likely from being plastered under a helmet for so long. He had a disheveled beard, graying in some places, that made you realize he had probably been traveling for some time without a true place to stay or a real bed to sleep in. It was only then that you noticed the cut on his lip, the gash across his cheek, and the bruise under his eye. What had happened to him? What had he endured to reach Nhora?

Din still wasn't sure what was considered an appropriate or inappropriate time to remove his helmet. But he reasoned that if you were a descendant of Mand'alor, then this was appropriate. And despite his better judgment, he trusted you. Your story had made him think that perhaps your coyness earlier was not a result of his sudden appearance but a mutual attraction the pair of you shared. You were a complete stranger, a queen even, and yet he felt he had known you all along, as if gravity had pulled him toward you. You radiated warmth and acceptance, something he rarely received as a Mandalorian.

Din pretended not to notice your stare, but then you stood abruptly, and he looked up.

"Most people don't recognize me when I take off this whole thing," you said, gesturing to the clothes you wore. Din could tell you were trying to make a comparison to his helmet, all a disguise to maintain a physical and emotional distance from those around you.

You began to pull off your robes, layer after layer of the royal get up you disliked more than you let on. You unwound the intricate scarf from your hair, aware that Djarin was watching the whole time as your hair fell unbound around your shoulders.

It was all ceremonial, he knew, but Din had noticed when he first met you that you didn't seem particularly comfortable in your position. Now you stood in your loose underclothes, arms and shoulders bare, headdress and scarves discarded on the floor, and you relaxed. Your efforts were a mirror to his, showing your vulnerability and gaining his trust. And you did look different, not quite unrecognizable but somehow even smaller and less imposing than before.

You suddenly felt nervous beneath Djarin's gaze and felt it best to keep your hands busy.

Turning toward a cabinet on the wall, you began rummaging through it, looking for the antiseptic. You could feel Djarin's eyes now trained on your back, watching your every move. "I don't have any bacta spray in here, but we should at least clean up that cut."

You pulled your chair closer to his. The proximity was delicious.

"This may sting a bit," you said as you applied a swab to the gash in his cheek, fingers holding his face in place. Din didn't pull away but he did hiss lightly. Your body was so close to his own he could smell the scent of you, light and flowery like your planet.

"So, what else does the Mandalorian need from me?" you asked, trying to distract him from the pain.

Din grunted, though not in discomfort but to regain his focus. "The people-- I'm not sure what they need. I'm a warrior, not a ruler. I didn't ask for this. Mandalore is essentially deserted, those who remain have nothing and I don't know where to begin. The creed is fractured, scattered throughout the galaxy. I don't even think most of them want to be found. Especially not by me."

You placed a gentle hand on his chin to tilt his head closer to yours, giving you access to the cut on this lip. Thin lines creased Djarin's eyes and forehead, marring his golden skin with worry and tension. His eyebrows knitted in constant concern. You wanted to smooth that look from his face but it was more than you thought he'd allow. Instead, you focused on his mouth, not that that helped your erratic pulse and quickening breath either.

The tenderness of the act caught Din off guard. A royal, stooping to his level, rolling up her sleeves to do the dirty work, was surprising. He got the impression that you were a reluctant ruler, though he couldn't tell why. Nhora was obviously a prosperous planet, covered in glittering cities and sprawling trade ports. What he'd seen of the people they seemed happy and healthy. How could you be so successful and yet so averse to the job you performed so well?

"You're a good man, Djarin. I understand your reluctance. I was not meant to be queen either. I didn't want to be queen, and yet the responsibility was thrust upon me. But you are a good father as well, and I've known the best fathers to make the best leaders."

"I'm not a father. Not anymore." The words were spoken with a deep sadness.

"I think the Child would beg to differ. He lights up like a glow frog when he hears your name."

"A glow frog?"

"Native to Nhora. The resemblance is uncanny."

Din chuckled at the image, knowing the kid could probably just swallow one whole. "Has he grown?"

"Perhaps a little, though it's hard to tell." You finished your first aid and leaned away. Djarin's questions made apparent his love for and connection to Grogu. How he'd managed to let him go in the first place was beyond you. You didn't have children and weren't sure if you ever would, yet their bond was enviable. "Somehow I don't think it's a coincidence that we crossed paths, Djarin. You and I and the kid."

Din wasn't sure what that meant. He didn't particularly believe in destiny, nor did he know how to respond, so he turned back to his food. Decades beneath the helmet had given him the luxury of hidden expressions and wordlessness. He didn't know how to act without its protection.

But something else was also forcing his speechlessness. Though your touch had left his skin, the ghost of your fingers remained, leaving him in silence. He was ashamed something so simple could affect him so intensely, and yet he was melting like ice beneath a warm sun.

And while you continued to speak of Grogu, of his obsession with metal balls and being held in the crook of your arm, Din's thoughts swirled not around the child but the soft touch of your fingers on his face. He realized had never been touched like that before, not that gently. And your hands were so smooth, unmarred and flawless from never having worked manual labor or been in a fight. They twisted in your lap, unable to stop moving despite the idle chatter you had fallen into.

You weren't sure why you couldn't stop moving. Was it Djarin's stare, the way he appeared to be listening to you intently though he never responded, or his large presence that filled the room, or just the excitement of meeting the man you had been thinking about for the better part of a year? You realized that you were rambling, filling the silence with your words, your hands wringing in your lap.

All of a sudden, a big hand reached out and covered yours. You silenced instantly. "You're going to twist your fingers off if you keep that up, Your Majesty."

A thrill jolted through your body. Most people addressed you by your title, out of respect. But the way it came from his mouth, in that lilting baritone, sent the world spinning.

"I should leave you, let you sleep," you said finally, needing to get away before your voice betrayed your heart's emotions. "I know you've had a long day. You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

Maker, how you hoped he would stay. But Din Djarin would be gone in the morning.

---

The starship you had provided was more than Din could have asked for, large enough to accommodate his size and cargo, small and swift enough to fly fast and steady in whatever direction he required. Inside, his blaster, spear, and a new rifle found their place on the wall. Climbing into the cockpit, Din surveyed the array of buttons and flashing lights.

To the right, the joystick gleamed in the dim light of the shipyard hanger. It was topped with a square knob. A memory floated through Din's mind, the tiny claws of a green hand reaching out to grasp at the knob, the big ears and wide eyes and--

Pulling the metal ball from his pocket, Din unscrewed the square knob and tossed it aside. Miraculously the Razor Crest's hardware fixtures must have been similar enough to this ship's, and the metal ball screwed perfectly into place. He grasped it gently once more, before flicking a few switches and starting up the engine.

Keep moving. Always keep moving.

---

Djarin's touch lingered on your hands even as you fell asleep. You dreamed of him, of his face, tired but handsome, aged by worry and life, yet kind and full of that honor your grandmother claimed every Mandalorian of worth contained.

You dreamed that he stayed, protecting you and your people, the way your grandfather should have done. Perhaps your mother and sister would still be here if he had.

Those nightmares woke you, sweating and sitting straight up in bed in the near darkness. Soft light from Nhora's triplet moons glimmered through the window, bathing your room in a soft glow, easing the pain in your heart, and returning you to the present. You flopped back in bed, rolling onto your stomach to try to get comfortable.

"That kriffing Mandalorian," you sighed into the pillow. He occupied your thoughts as you drifted in and out of sleep, his eyes on yours, the softness of his face under your fingers, the way he'd let you take care of him, his hand steadying yours and bringing you back into your body. It tied a knot in your stomach and you cursed your grandmother for having given you such high expectations of the man. Yet they were expectations met.

And what if he stayed? Would you fall for him? Were you destined to do so, intertwined by some family history that fated you and him together? He must have felt the gravity too, the gravity that pulled you together and bound your lives.

You hadn't seen him without his beskar armor on, but you could only imagine what he might look like underneath it all, shoulders broad, skin smooth, back muscular and strong. Was he taught and wound, always ready for a fight, or soft and supple?

You'd been with men before. Plenty of them, in fact. They tended to fall at your feet, begging for the queen's attention and a chance to sleep in her bed. Nhoran queens never married, simply chose a man to be the one to continue on the line of queens that came before and the line that would come after. But none struck your fancy, none forced their way into your thoughts, none caused you to touch yourself with need when you were without their presence.

None like Djarin. It was a relief to orgasm beneath your hands, his face floating behind your eyelids. You came as the triplet moons set and the sun rose, as somewhere in the distance Djarin's ship was taking off, rumbling powerfully beneath his strong hands. The relief it brought you gave you several more hours of sleep, the best sleep of the past year.

You hadn't realized how starved you were for the Mandalorian until he was in your grasp.

---

The dense quiet of hyperspace allowed for sleep. Or too much thinking.

In this case, Din was doing the overthinking. In the holomessage he'd left you he'd tried to explain where he was going, what he was doing, that he'd be back. He didn't need to justify his actions to you. You'd given him permission to go about his business as he pleased, that you'd always be there for help if he needed it. But he felt he owed you some explanation.

There was so much to do, to plan, to look ahead to. And yet Din's thoughts surrounded only you and what he'd just left behind. Less than a day on Nhora and the planet called out to him, begging for his return. Or perhaps it was just you.

Din closed his eyes, willing sleep to find him, but only visions of you drifted through the darkness, your bare arms, your soft fingers, your face close to his, your scent. It was intoxicating. If he tried hard enough, he might be able to pick up that smell even now, lingering in the ship.

When he'd reached out to touch your hands, it had taken all his willpower to leave them there and not drag his fingers up your arm. It wasn't right, this sudden desire to touch you all over. You were just being kind. It was silly to think any further into it. And yet, the knot in his stomach and tightness in his pants said otherwise.

Din's eyes flew open, trying to rid you from his thoughts. Think about anything else, Maker be damned, anything but wanting to hold you, kiss you, drink in that scent forever and ever.

With a frustrated grunt, he stood and moved to the fresher, splashing cold water onto his face to relieve the tension in his chest. It didn't work.

"I don't even know your name," Din groaned into the silence of the ship, hands balled into fists and rubbing his eyes. It was useless. There was only one thing to do. With fumbling fingers, he undid his belt, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his pants. What would you think if you knew he was touching himself like this? But that only turned him on more, urging him forward to grasp his length with a rough hand. It only took a few pumps to finish, the fingers of his other hand gripping the edge of the sink as he grunted into the echoing silence of the fresher, amplifying the needy sounds.

He'd never let a woman drive him crazy. And yet you were going to do just that, already lightyears away.

*Read Next Part*

[kookoosbunnynose]

Pairing -> Officer!Reader x BadBoy!Jungkook (ft. Reader x Yoongi)

Genre -> Angst | Smut | Fluff

Rating -> Mature (18+)

Word Count -> 14.5k

Playlist -> Looks Red, Tastes Blue

Warnings -> Major Character Death | Grief | Poor Coping Mechanisms | Mentions of Alcohol Abuse | Mentions of Smoking (tobacco) | Unrequited Love | Emotional Constipation | Explicit Sexual Content | Unprotected Sex (stay safe losers) | Oral (m/f receiving) | Dom/Sub Themes | Dirty Talk | Praise Kink | Sir Kink | He Spit in Ur Mouth | Brief Sex with Jimin | Should I Even Bother Putting Cursing?

Summary -> You meet an old friend under uncomfortable circumstances, he brings with him memories you’ve tried to forget for years. Your past becomes your future before you can catch your breath. 

Excerpt -> “But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.”

—————

“We have a 10-51 at The Red Eye on Main.” Your radio suddenly booms in your otherwise quiet vehicle, snapping you out of your trance-like state caused by watching a mostly empty intersection run through light cycles for the better part of an hour.

“10-4, I’m 76.” You answered, pausing briefly to assess your location in relation to the hole-in-the-wall bar. “10-77, three minutes.” You finish, setting down your mic and flipping your lights on.

When you first started this job, getting a call for a drunk and disorderly would send your heart into overdrive, cause your breathing to shallow and your hands to shake. Mind filling with possibilities of having to contain a violent man twice your size. But after learning the patterns of the locals in town, and learning your own capabilities, you barely batted an eye. You’d probably just have to give the crotchety town drunk a ride back home and scold him for making you do this for the upteenth time. No biggie.

You sped down the empty street with ease, you could drive this town with your eyes closed since you were fourteen. The street lights around you against the night sky making everything appear untouched and serene, only amplifying your obnoxious siren.

Three minutes, nearly on the dot, when you pull up to Red Eye, and much to your surprise you see a young man sitting on the curb with his forearms resting lazily on his knees waiting for your arrival. The less than impressed security guard stops glaring at him in favor of filling you in on what happened.

“Hi y/n.” the guard greets, making the man pick his head up to confirm his suspicions.

“Well, fancy seeing you on that side of the law.” He says making you take in a stiff breath at the familiar voice, one you haven’t heard in years.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Jeon.” you say with a steady breath, being very well versed in not appearing as shaken as you are. And you are. But you fight the way your throat wants to close because you’re wearing your badge, and you’re not here to dive nose first into your past. You’re here to take statements and do an assload of paperwork.

“The kid has been pretty cooperative,” the guard continues when you turn your attention back towards him. “didn’t put up a fight when I escorted him out. He’s had one too many drinks and threw a punch at a guy, who has decided not to press charges. But I got his information before he left to tend to his busted lip, if you need to contact him.” he informs, handing you a napkin with the bar’s logo and shaky ink etched into it.

“Thank you, I’ll take him off your hands.” you say glancing at the man in question, he’s still watching you with the kind of smirk only alcohol can provide. “I’ll take him to the station to sober up and get his story.” he nods, stepping back but staying close just in case.

“Are you gonna get in the car quietly or do I have to use these?” you question, holding your cuffs up with a hooked finger.

“Don’t make me any promises you won’t keep, sweetheart.” he winks lamely. You roll your eyes, and open the back door of your car.

“Get in Jeon, I won’t ask twice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he says, raising his hands in defense and standing to climb in your backseat.

You shut the door behind him and make your way around the vehicle, giving the guard a wave goodbye. If he had been anyone else making a remark like that would’ve landed them a pair of cuffs, but in all your years of knowing him, Jungkook has never given you a reason to feel unsafe with him.

He was pretty quiet on your drive back to the station allowing your mind to wander to the time you two last spoke.

That day the air was heavy and unforgiving on your lungs, that no matter how hard you tried never felt full. You were both dressed in black, heads hung low in mourning. Before you departed you gave each other a long hug, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s and sniffling together. Giving each other as much comfort as you could muster even though neither one of you believed it would be okay yourselves. The hug was meant to be one of condolence but shortly after you would come to learn that, unbeknownst to either of you, it was a goodbye as well.

You don’t know if it was because you were pulling up to the station or if it was because he could sense your thoughts but he decided to break the silence.

“The asshole had it coming.” He spoke bluntly, as you opened his door and walked him inside.

“What did he do that warranted a busted lip?” you asked, slightly exasperated but mostly curious.

“He was making a girl at the bar uncomfortable, she asked him to stop and he didn’t. I stepped in, he swung, I dodged, I clocked him in the mouth, and he fell down.” He recounted simply, almost bored. He hasn’t changed, still ready to throw a punch for anyone in need. Just like-

Your stern look softens. “Why didn’t you tell security he threw the first punch?”

“Would he have believed me? I’m sure I haven’t been gone long enough for half the town to forget my reputation.” He says sitting in the chair next to your desk and crossing his tattooed arms across his chest. Those are new. Well, most of them.

“I suppose not, but at least I could have it on record that you tried.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” he raises his brows.

“Yes, you did.” you relent, grabbing a breathalyzer from your drawer. “Blow.”

He takes the device from you and does as instructed, presumably choosing to keep some sexual comment to himself.

“A .05?” You blink. “I thought he said you drank too much.”

“Probably assumed since I decked a guy in a bar.” He shrugs.

“I suppose, but how annoying.” you say slightly bothered by the fact that he had to tell you everything, and security didn’t even bother to ask people who started it. He chuckles at you.

You start typing away on your report, his story, his blood alcohol level, etc.

“Do you wanna press charges? He did try to assault you.” you question, pausing your fingers.

“No, but I think that woman should.” you smile.

“Okay, I have all the info I need. You have two options.” you turn to him. “I can drive you home now, or I could get you some coffee and you wait here until you blow a .02 then I’ll take you back to your car.”

“I take option B.” he says, tapping the corner of your desk as if to lock in his answer. “I don’t want to have to go get it tomorrow.”

“I’ll go get your coffee.” you go to get the two of you some much needed liquid energy. Normally, you wouldn’t just leave someone who was brought in for assault without cuffing them to your desk or asking someone to watch them, but you know him, and normally people wouldn’t voluntarily choose to hang out in a police station for any longer than they needed to. Tonight is full of many things outside the norm.

As you sit back down back down with your drinks, Taehyung returns from patrol duty, and beelines for Seokjin’s desk.

“Tag you’re it.” he says, patting Jin’s back, making him flinch.

“Officer Kim, don’t sneak up on me.” He says puffing out his chest.

“My apologies, Officer Kim.” they laugh. 

You miss the way Tae looks over at you, and his smile drops when he sees who is at your desk.

You and Jungkook sip your coffee with a comfortable silence, neither of you wanting or needing to address his long absence yet, not while you’re filling out a report with his name on it.

A couple hours pass like this, with you doing various paperwork, and him scrolling on his phone or staring into space. Yep, definitely hasn’t changed.

“Alright Jeon, once more.” you say handing him the breathalyzer again.

He does.

.01, good.

“Let’s get you to your car.” you stand, and walk out into the crisp dawn air.

The ride back doesn’t leave your mind swimming as much as the first time. There’s still a sizable elephant in the room, but the tension isn’t as unbearable as you’d imagined it would be.

You pull your car next to his, allowing him to return home. “Thank you.” He half smiles, unsure if he should say ‘see ya later’ or not, but you had a feeling you would soon.   — You awoke later that same day, when the peachy light of the sunset was flowing through your windows. Your shift at the station usually ran from midnight to ten in the morning, meaning you usually slept through most of the day. Though you didn’t mind, you’ve always been a night owl, nothing a little vitamin D supplements can’t fix.

Groaning as you roll over in your mess of blankets to check your phone, you find exactly what you were expecting.

Jimin (7:48pm): In need of stress relief, Doll? ;)

You (8:13pm): God, yes. When you couldn’t meet up last week I thought I was gonna implode :(

Jimin (8:15pm): Aw, you missed me? Cute

You (8:16pm): Don’t flatter yourself Park. I missed your dick

Jimin (8:17pm): I’m hurt :(

You (8:19pm): I’ll be over in 40. Be ready, handsome ;)

Jimin (8:19pm): :)

You toss your phone on your bed and get up to take a shower, a little hop in your step at the prospect of receiving an orgasm by someone else’s hand. And Jimin always delivered.

You wash your hair quickly, more concerned about shaving your legs for the first time in two weeks. After you’ve dried off, you lotion and perfume like normal. You slip on a tank top and leggings, knowing that he is a big fan of your ass. You take your uniform with you as well so you can head straight to work after your weekly dick transaction.

When you’re making your short drive to Jimin’s you find your mind wandering to Jungkook. How your heart skipped a beat when you saw him sitting on that curb. How he’s lost all the baby fat he used to hold in his cheeks, but his eyes still crinkle when he smiles. How having him stand in front of you for the first time in five years confirmed your adolescence wasn’t in fact a pipe dream your mind had fabricated after you decided to change everything you could. How though he’s jaded and may not know it himself, he’s the same boy you’ve always known. And how he still reminded you of-

But now wasn’t time to dwell, you’ve done enough of that. Tonight is supposed to be about the exact opposite. Free of stress. Free of thoughts. Only a couple hours of animalistic need. Then you could go back to reality.

“Hello y/n.” Jimin greets with a smile after your knuckles rap against his door. “Do you wanna talk? Before we…”

“Not really.” you answer a little too fast, crossing the threshold of his apartment.

“Works for me.” he says, noticing that you’re seeking more of the benefits than the friends side of this deal.

Without another word his hands are on your hips and his lips are on your neck, walking you backwards until your back is flush with the door. Noticing that you’re not in the mood for as much foreplay as normal, he immediately grazes his teeth against that spot on your neck that makes you sigh into his ear.

He’s always been very good at reading you, perhaps that’s why you agreed to this little arrangement. You’re not sure exactly how the two of you ended up fucking in the first place. Definitely had something to do with your collective blood alcohol level at the time. But when all was said and done that first time he told you he’d be more than willing to make it a regular thing. To make your shoulders relax every so often and it’s not as if he didn’t get anything out of it. Neither of you were in the headspace for a relationship, so the easy access to orgasms, with no strings attached was ideal for all parties involved.

Not that you weren’t friends outside his bedroom as well. You guys would hangout pretty often just as friends. You were fortunate that the line between your regular dose of stress relief and the platonic love you had for one another never blurred. Jimin was special in that regard.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and he takes the hint quickly pulling it over his head. You do the same, and his hands eagerly cup your breasts. He reattaches his lips to the sweet spot on your neck biting down harder this time causing a small whine to fall from your lips. He smirks against your skin and runs his tongue along your reddened skin to sooth it.

Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary you grab his hand and walk him to his bedroom. Once inside you put your hands on his chest and give him a firm push until his knees meet the edge of his mattress and he falls against it with a small bounce. When he falls back you remove your leggings and underwear, he does the same matching your urgency.

You climb over him planting your knees on either side of his hips, grinding your increasingly wet slit up his stiff length.

“You got hard pretty fast.” you say breath tickling his cheek and he slides his palms up your thighs to your ass, gently kneading the flesh in his hands.

“You said be ready.” he says smoothly, pushing his hips up to add to the friction on your clit. The extra contact catching you off guard making you place your hands on his shoulders for extra balance.

You feel his breath hitch beneath you when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to guide him to your entrance. You sit down a little slower than you want to due you being a little less wet than usual.

It was your doing, he would’ve been glad to work you up properly, but you were seeking a quick release. Caught somewhere between wanting to take your time so your escape will last longer and needing to reach the cloudy peak as quickly as possible, putting as much distance as you can between you and the thoughts that lay in the valley of your metaphorical mountain. Though it seems your body was choosing the latter for you.

You rock your hips against his, enjoying the way his cock drags against your g-spot, sending heat from your core to your toes. You pick up your pace a little allowing yourself to let go as much as you can, jaw going slack and eyes closing tightly. Jimin groans at the sight, reaching up to toy with your pert nipples.

A light layer of sweat forms over both of your bodies, heating the room like a makeshift furnace. A furnace made of hot skin and moans instead of fire.

You increase the speed of your hips on his until your thighs start to burn, the dull ache in your limbs only adding to the fiery one in your pelvis. Your pants grow louder as your end is nearly in sight.

“Jimin,” you gasp with a mouth like cotton. “I need more.”

Your request straight to the point, he moves his hands to your hips, rubbing your clit one thumb and using his other hand to keep you in place while he thrusts up to meet yours roughly.

“Umph- fuck!” your voice cracks as you fall onto his chest, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling to keep you grounded as your orgasm rips through you.

Jimin groans deeply in your ear, you can tell how your fists in his hair and your walls clenching around him brought him to his end by how desperate his thrusts became. You can feel his cock pulsing as he coats your core with his cum.

You both lay like that for a few moments, his softening dick still tucked safely within you and labored breaths creating a fog around your heads.

“Can I use your shower? I don’t wanna go to work smelling of sex.” you ask and he chuckles against your shoulder.

“By all means.”

“Thank you.” you say, for both the shower and the sex.

He grabs your hand when you go to stand from the damp fabric of his bed. “Are you alright?” he decides to pry for the first time tonight. “You haven’t been that down to business since that fight with your mom a few months ago.” he says, concern laced in his features.

“Yeah.” you begin unsure. “Just, something happened last night that brought up some memories.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he treads lightly, knowing what that statement could mean.

“I’ll be okay. You let me turn off my brain for a minute.” you smile and kiss his cheek.

“Happy to help. I’m here if you need anything.” he says with a stupid wink. Though you know he doesn’t just mean sex. Jimin has been a shoulder for you to cry on as long as you’ve known each other. You’ve always been there for him as well. A mutual understanding that you can come to each other for anything.

“I know, thank you Minie.” — You take a deep breath and run your hands through your hair, cursing the clock above the captain’s doorway that ticks just too loud for you to think. You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus on the text on your computer screen. You’re relieved when the phone on your desk starts to ring.

“Hello this is Officer l/n.” you say putting the phone to your ear, unfortunately excited about someone being in distress, but you’re about five minutes of screen time away from getting a migraine.

“Hello Miss l/n, this is Mrs. Choi,” here we go again. “I was wondering if you could send an officer to the house across the street? I think I saw some hoodlums trespassing.” and there it is.

“Of course Mrs. Choi,” you hold back a lengthy exhale. “I’ll go check it out, myself. Did you happen to see anything that could provide a description?”

“I’m afraid not dear, I only saw some trees rustling.” ah yes, the wind. Nature’s trespasser.

“Okay, I’ll take a look. Anything to help you sleep better at night, ma’am.” you smile as sweetly as you can despite her not being able to see you.

“Thank you Miss l/n.” she says promptly ending the call.

You let your breath out fully for the first time since the interaction began. And try your best to ignore how tense it makes you when she always calls you ‘Miss’ but calls all your male coworkers ‘Officer.’ You once put Jin in a choke-hold over a granola bar, you’re more than capable of holding your own, but that’s neither here nor there. Really.

“Mrs. Choi again?” Tae asks peering around the filing cabinet between your desks.

“The one and only.” you state. “She ordered the usual; someone to check the old abandoned house across from hers.”

“Well maybe if someone didn’t break into that place all the time in high school.” he says looking anywhere but at you.

“And now I’m the one who has to get rid of them. The world goes round, balance is restored. Hooray.“ you say feigning awe, he chuckles.

“Hey, I know how you are about that old place, do you want me to check it out for you?” Tae asks his expression morphing into worry.

“I got it, I’m okay. I need to stretch my legs anyway. But thank you Tae, really.” for the first few months you were a cop, you couldn’t even take the patrol route the old house was on without crying. He was always really nice about taking care of it for you. Officer Kim, always ready to jump in at a sign of distress, perhaps why he’s so good at his job.

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.” you hum an affirmative as you exit the building.

Though the bubble of anxiety in your stomach grows as you approach the run down house, it doesn’t spill out as tears anymore. You’ve come to accept this is as healed as your wounds will get.

You unlock the chain on the gate and make your way to the front door, knocking harshly before opening it.

“Police! Come out now and I won’t tell your moms what you’ve been doing!” you shout into the empty house. You’re sure the house is empty because every time there has been a few teens in here you can hear them run before you can even shout ‘police!’ but, you still need to do a walk through just in case.

Your cautious steps make the floorboards creak below you, the smell alone flooding your mind with memories.

There’s a sliding glass door in the back, that’s long since been shattered, where you used to sit and get a perfect view of the stars for hours with your first, and thus far only, love. 

Your mind wanders to when you used to play music off your phones and slow dance in the living room, skillfully avoiding the gaps in the old wood floor. It’s truly a wonder this place hasn’t been torn down yet, but you’re thankful, you don’t know if you could bear to see it go.

As you make your way down the dark hallway you get a small craving for a cigarette, having quit years ago now, but you can almost feel the dry paper on your lips as you make your way to the last bedroom in the house. You pause at the door.

Your eyes scan until they reach the corner of the room, pausing at the small carving in the wall. Your breath catches for the briefest of seconds when step close to it, tracing the heart with your fingers, careful to not get any splinters. Your fingers continue their journey, tracing the initials at its center with care.

Y/I + YG

“Babe! Angel! C’mere!” Yoongi’s smile beamed, gums and all.

“What?! What did you need to interrupt my sandwich eating to show me?” you follow his voice slightly annoyed, though you wondered why he disappeared for a few minutes, leaving you to munch in solitude. You had met here for a picnic, not uncommon for the two of you during the summer. He brought a blanket and you brought the burgers. You set up the picnic in the living room, with summer sun’s rays spilling through the old cracked windows, it’s a lot more beautiful than sitting in the middle of an abandoned house sounds.

“Look!” he says gesturing to the freshly carved wood on the wall, tucking his trusty knife back in his pocket.

“God, you’re so lame.” you smile and walk over to him. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in close to admire his handy work.

“If I’m lame it’s your fault.” me chuckles running his hand through your hair. “I suppose, loving you makes me this way.” he hums jokingly.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you look up at him, admiring the way the sun makes his bleached hair glow.

“You know I do right?” his tone drops a bit and his eyes search yours. “I love you.”

“Of course I know.” he only tells you everyday, yet you never tire of hearing it. You study his face, the slope of his nose and the little mole right next to it. His pink petal lips, that despite his reputation, you don’t know how anyone could be weary of a man with such beautifully delicate features. And his dark eyes that lighten only when he looks at you.

His gums return. He tilts your chin up to gently connect your lips. He tastes of the chocolate milkshake he drank not long ago, and you hum against his mouth.

“I love you too.”

The memory shifts, to one five months later.

“I love you too, angel.” his chilled lips peck yours, as he starts to climb out your bedroom window. The winter air makes you shiver when a gust of wind blows against your skin, with only your pajamas to keep you warm. Sometimes you’d sneak him overnight but with the first day back to school being tomorrow, it was too risky. If your mom caught him here again she’d have some choice words for the two of you, but she is a heavy sleeper, so as long as he left at a decent hour, nothing to worry about.

He hops down, his boots packing the snow beneath them when he lands. His head now a bit below yours as you lean out your first story window.

“Text me when you get home!” you remind him as he starts the small trek back to his car.

“Always!” he whisper-shouts back before disappearing around the side of your house.

You gaze up at the moon and take in a deep breath, trying to decide if the frozen air is refreshing or sharp on your lungs. You don’t take the time to figure it out before your window is shut and the air in your room feels hot against your cheeks.

You curl up in bed, and decide to scroll your various socials until your eyes get heavy.

You blink to help your eyes focus on the text on your screen, and decide to call it a night. You flick your eyes over to check the time.

2:30 am? Yoongi left at 2:00 and still no text? He’s always really good about telling you he got home, though he has forgotten a few times, no one is perfect.

“I’ll wait til he texts, he probably stopped for gas.” you mumble to no one.

2:45 am. You decide to text him.

You (2:46am): Love, did you make it home alright?

You (3:15am): I’m sure you just fell asleep.

You hit send trying to convince the panic knotting your stomach.

“He’s forgotten before, why am I freaking out so much?” you mumble to yourself rubbing your eyes. “I’ll just call him.”

My Love missed your call (3:23am)

My Love missed your call (3:35am)

My Love missed your call (3:42am)

“It’s Yoongi, leave your message after the beep.”

“Hi, I know that you’re probably just sleeping, and you’re gonna tell me that you’re fine in the morning.” you push out a laugh trying not to cry. “But I just can’t shake this feeling, so please please call me as soon as you wake up. I love you.”

My Love missed your call (4:01am)

You sit there staring at your phone in your hands, for a few minutes watching the clock on your screen change. Still nothing.

“Alright, fuck it.” you huff and grab your boots, shoving your feet in them and throwing on your jacket. You grab your keys and get in your car, you dial his number again while you start the engine, the route to his house flashing through your mind.

The dial tone in your ear stops ringing. “Thank fuck Yoongi!” the tears you’ve been holding back start to spill in relief. “You scared the-”

“This is Officer Jung.” a deep voice rings in your ear and your blood runs cold.

“What’s going on? What happened?” you ask frantic, the panic in your lungs turning into fire, the air feeling too thick to swallow.

“Ma’am, Min Yoongi was involved in an incident.” he says attempting to make his voice resemble something close to comfort. “The snow caught his tire and hi-”

“Is he okay?” you try to yell but your throat is closing.

“His car was pulled into a ditch, he-.”

“Is he fucking okay?!” your voice cracks and so does the dam holding back your tears.

“He didn’t make it.”

Your heart skips in a way you didn’t know it could, your body instantly too weak to hold itself or anything else. Your phone falls to the floor and your body falls against your steering wheel. You think you’re screaming but who can be sure with the ringing in your ears echoing in your skull. Your vision is blurred and your cheeks are wet. You were shivering when you climbed in your car but your skin has gone numb.

You don’t know how long you were crying in your car but by the time you were able to collect yourself enough to walk back to your bed your phone had no charge, and the sun had begun to rise.

When you finally turned your phone back on, you were flooded with people asking if you were okay, most of them you didn’t even know. After scrolling through your list of unopened texts, you answered only the one from his little brother.

Gukkie (7:38am): You okay?

You (8:44am): No

Gukkie (8:45am): Yeah, me either.

Now the ache is dull and the memories are faded. The anger and hurt that used to filter them turns more rosy as time goes on. And as with most wounds, there are scars. Love runs deep and Min Yoongi was your deepest river and your deepest cut.

You finish tracing the divots in the wood and smile bittersweetly. You place a kiss on the tips of your first and second fingers, you touch them to his initials and take a deep breath.

You let that breath go slowly as you walk out of the house, careful not to step on any of the less stable floor panels. Your lungs finally empty when you reach the gate where you can not-so-metaphorically lock up your past. — “Did you really need to cuff me?” you hear a familiar voice huff from behind you.

“Yes I did.” Tae grunts, you turn to see him holding Jungkook by the elbow before he  plops him down in the seat next to his desk.

“Alright, you’re the boss.” he says somewhere between sarcasm and defeat. He attempts to shift into a comfortable position, his cuffs against the metal chair hitting your ears in a less than pleasant way.

Jungkook glances your way and gives you a small nod when you catch eyes, and you do your best to pretend you meant to be staring at him. Though you’re sure he’s probably just as tense as you are. Police stations aren’t exactly the best place for a reunion. Especially twice.

“Name.” Taehyung states in a business-like tone.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Date of birth.” September first, 1997.

“September first, 1997.”

“Address.” 5235 west- shit I’m eavesdropping.

You shift in your seat and refocus on what you were doing before they came in. You try to at least.

Seokjin returns from his patrol route, entering the room the same as he always does, as loud as possible. “Tag you’re it!” he says with a childlike smile as he pats Tae on the shoulder.

“I’m kinda busy.” he gestures to Jungkook and his computer screen.

“I can take care of the report for you.” you butt in before you can think about the fact that you’re speaking. Tae slides his chair to your desk to get out of the other’s ear shot. “Do you really wanna deal with him? I know you’re not a big fan.” you lower your voice.

“Yeah, you have a point.” He thinks for a second, looking over at the man in question and grimacing slightly. “You sure?”

“Of course, I took care of him last week.” you say matter of factly. “And years before that.” you add after a beat. He nods in agreement, and grabs his jacket. “Change in plans Guk,” he smiles at the nickname he hasn’t heard from you in a long time. “You’re with me, Officer Kim has other business he needs to attend to.”

“Oh does he?” Jungkook mutters under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. He gets up from Tae’s desk and shuffles over to yours, his shoulders releasing slightly.

Without saying anything you unlock his wrists and set the cuffs on your desk, he rubs his skin a little too dramatically and you smile when he sits back in the chair looking more relaxed.

“Thank you.” Jungkook smiles. You miss the way Tae scowls at your gesture as he walks out of the building.

You start filing out the basics without question, as you know all the answers. He sits there tracing the walls with his eyes, far less entertaining than last week having already memorized the lack luster wallpaper.

“Alright Guk, what happened this time?” you say after a couple minutes.

“I didn’t fucking do anything.” he says widening his eyes clearly frustrated but not at you.

“It appears you did.” you say accusing him playfully.

“Seriously.” he relaxes a little. “I went to Red Eye again, I was minding my own business.” he points his finger at you in preemptive defense. “The same guy from last week-”

“The one whose face you busted?” you quip.

He stops, mouth slightly agape. “Yes, that one.”

“Continue.” you smirk and he glares at you slightly.

“I was sitting at the bar, he came up and started saying he could kick my ass for what I did. I told him to forget about it cause I wasn’t gonna fight him. He said I may look tough now but I’m still the same sixteen year old I was before everything. I got in his face, no fists mind you, and told him to fuck off. The security saw us yelling and told us we needed to leave, and I refused because I had done nothing wrong. He told me he would call the cops and the other guy left, but I sat my ass back down, cause The Man has never stopped me before. And bingo bango, Officer Pretty Boy cuffs me and I’m here.”

“You just can’t get rid of that rep of yours, can you?” you soften.

“I’m used to it, and it’s nothing I didn’t do to myself.” he shrugs. “Besides, I’d rather be feared than pitied.” his voice lowers, and your heart twinges.

“I don’t fear or pity you.” he smiles, not one of those smiles that’s big and all teeth, but one that’s small and warm. Jungkook had this way of saying everything he needed without speaking a word.

Silence falls over you while you finish writing the report. He didn’t do anything other than disturb the peace for a moment, no need for punishment harsher than a slap on the wrist.

“Ow!” he rubs his arm. “What the fuck was that for?” he questions, his brows furrow.

“It was a slap on the wrist.” you shrug. “You didn’t do anything that requires a fine or jail time, so you get a warning.”

“Aren’t you taking that a tad too literal?” he chuckles.

“I don’t think so.” you fight a smile. “I don’t wanna see you with flashing lights near you again unless you catch fire. Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” he playfully salutes, but he knows you’re serious.

“Would you like a ride back to your car?”

“I can walk, that’s not necessary.” he says standing up and waving you off.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, the air will do me good.” his feet stutter. “Would you maybe want to get coffee on Wednesday? I didn’t imagine our reunion going quite like this.” he lets out a breathy laugh.

“I’d love that.” your eagerness to accept surprises you, and given the way he lights up, you surprise him too. — You mindlessly push the noodles you’ve been eating around on your plate letting the sound of other tables’ utensils clinking and your mother ramble on about her book club’s latest ventures buzz lowly in your head as you hum vague responses.

“… Jeon Jungkook moved back to town.” the mention of the name snaps you back into reality.

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, now at full attention.

“Have you heard he moved back to town?” she looks at you expectantly.

“I- um. I thought I saw him in the grocery store the other day, but I assumed I was seeing things.” you say keeping your voice as steady as possible.

“His mother is absolutely over the moon about it.” she says, wholly missing your lie as she was too excited at the prospect of telling you the latest gossip. Small town doesn’t leave one with much else to do.

“I’m sure she is.” you say and your chest can’t help but warm at the thought of Mrs. Jeon being so excited to see her son after he’s been gone for three years.

“She’s so happy he finally gave up on that god awful garage band.” she says, relief filling her face, and you roll your eyes. You had nearly forgotten he went to the city to make it big, you hadn’t ever doubted them, his voice alone was label worthy. “What were they called again? Red appendix?”

You blink. “Crimson Heart?” you offer her, knowing full well you’re correct.

“Ah right! That’s the one.” she says laughing at the, admittedly edgy, name. “I’m so glad he’s cleaning up his act, I expected better of him.” she adds, shaking her head. Your shoulders tense at her statement.

“Did you hear Jeon Jungkook got busted for spray painting the movie theater?” your mom questions as she leans on your door frame. Your face buried in some book you didn’t know the name of, as long as it had words in it. Mind numbing words.

“Um, no mom. I didn’t.” you mumble clearly uncomfortable with the subject. It was summer now, about six months since that night. The cold unforgiving weather that changed your world in an instant long since melted away, and as free as summer used to make you feel, it just feels hot and bitter against your skin.

“It just makes me sad, I expected better for him.” her voice solemn, clearly not ready to let the topic go.

You couldn’t muster a response that wasn’t yelling or trying to reason with her, which would get you nowhere.

“I never understood why you couldn’t have chosen the good brother.”

Your fingers clench around your book wrinkling the pages. She’d said that for years but sting you felt this time was far deeper.

“He was so studious and stayed out of trouble, but it looks like I was wrong.” she says, appearing more upset that her judgment was off, rather than the obvious issue at hand.

“Can we please not talk about them.” you plead softly, fighting your closing throat and watering eyes.

“Honey, I know you miss him, but look how much better you’re doing now! You’re reading for pleasure.” I’m reading so I can’t think. “You raised your GPA up almost a whole point before the year ended.” My test scores are the same, I just did my homework. “And I haven’t found cigarettes under your bed in months!” She seems most excited about that one. I’ll give her the smoking, they don’t fill my lungs the same way they used to. How can they when I can’t catch my breath?

Her attempt at comfort doing nothing but reminding you that you can’t be who you want to be anymore. You’d become someone who does any trivial task they can as not to spend too much time alone with their thoughts. Instead of someone who didn’t give a shit, did what they wanted to do, and most importantly had their love by their side. “Yeah, I guess not smoking anymore is good.”

“You know I always rooted for you two.” your mom says, her smile mischievous.

“I know, you always told me he was the ‘good brother’.” you try to conceal your eye roll at the same conversation you’ve had with her a million times.

“Before you and Yoongi got together, too.” she adds.

“What?” now this surprised you.

“His mom and I used to talk about how cute you’d be when you were all in elementary.” she remembers fondly.

You try to respond but you’re too shocked that her infatuation with Jungkook went past him being ‘so close yet so far.’

“Anywho, I just hope he can find the boy he used to be.” she hums.

You agree, but for largely different reasons. Your chest blooms at the thought of a smiling Jungkook.

“So do I, mom.” — Jimin (6:37pm): Hey Doll, in need of extra McLovin after lunch with The Wicked Witch of the West?

You (6:45pm): Actually, I feel okay Minie, but thank you

You (6:46pm): I’m doing better

Jimin (6:53pm): I’m proud of you, beautiful

You (7:04pm): Me too — When you walk into the coffee shop a few minutes before you were supposed to meet you’re surprised to see Jungkook already sitting at a small table by the wall of large windows with two cups of coffee placed in front of him.

“Hey Guk.” you sit down, shoulders relaxing.

“I got your old order, I hope that’s okay.” he smiles nervously.

“How the hell did you remember that?” you gasp, taking a long sip from your cup.

“You’ve had a caffeine addiction since you were like fourteen, and you practically lived at my house.” he chuckled.

“I suppose you’re right.” you nod in agreement and take another sip, the drink making your taste buds dance.

“Listen,” Jungkook begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to apologize for the whole you arresting me twice thing.” he hesitates.

“Technically, I didn’t arrest you the second time.” you correct with a smile, trying to ease his obvious guilt.

“Still.” his voice insistent, almost stern. “That isn’t exactly how I wanted us to meet again after five years. It didn’t feel right to not fix it.” his face seeking the approval that his apology did, in fact, fix it.

“There was nothing to fix really, Guk. But thank you.” you soften. “I don’t think of you any different. How could I, given my past?” he chuckles at that. “And you got the shit end of the stick in both situations. I still know you’d never do anything truly bad, you’re all bark and no bite.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can bite?” he tongues the inside of his cheek smugly.

“Would you shut up?” his face shifts immediately, his eyes crinkling. “I’m serious.” you groan, but the heat threatening your cheeks and ears contradicts you. Well, that’s odd. Anyway.

“Okay.” he says after a beat. “C’mon y/n, I know you’re dying to know why I came back. Just ask.” he states, less than smoothly steering the conversation.

“Why would I wonder about you inexplicably reappearing after three years of nearly zero contact with anyone? It hasn’t crossed my mind at all.” your mouth laced with sarcasm.

“You think you’re so funny.” he squints. “I am.” you wave him off. “Alright, spill Rockstar, since you want to so bad. Why’d you give up living it up in the city to come back to all this?”

“Actually.” he laughs. “They kicked me out of the band like two years ago.”

You blink. “What? Why would they kick out their only talent?” you say screwing your brow in offense.

He nearly chokes on his coffee. He sputters trying to catch his breath, wiping his mouth on this arm. “Thank you.” he clears his throat. “But they were definitely better off without me.”

“How do you figure?”

“I wasn’t in the best place when the guys and I moved over there, for obvious reasons.” you nod. “I was getting black out drunk every other night. And writing songs that were just, not good. The kind of sad that isn’t relatable anymore, it was just painful and would make the crowds go silent.”

You grab his hand wishing you could’ve been there when he really needed it, but now will have to do. He smiles.

“The last straw though, was one night I got absurdly drunk right before a gig, and I thought I could handle it because I had been tipsy on stage before. They told me not to but I didn’t listen, and when I got to the song that I wrote about Yoongi, I just broke down sobbing on stage. I was embarrassed so I just fucked off out of the venue and kept running until I didn’t recognize where I was anymore.”

“Guk, I’m so sorry.” you squeeze his hand, and he rubs his inked thumb over you knuckles to tell you not to worry.

“No it’s okay, the guys found me the next morning, passed out in a Denny’s.” he chuckles stiffly. “They brought me home and told me that I needed to get help, they didn’t want to watch me self-destruct anymore, and at the time I was hurt but I’m grateful. It still took me a fucking while to work up the courage to come home, but if I didn’t have anyone tell me to try, I don’t think I’d be home now.” his expression turned from bitter to sweet as he recounted his story.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” he smiles, the stars in his eyes multiplying when he looks at you. “My dumbass fifteen year old self thought if I went dark side I could fill the hole he left, but I didn’t know what dark side really looked like until it was too late. Then it just became something I told myself so I didn’t have to face the fact that I was doing shitty shit.”

“You sound like you’ve taken a lot of time to reflect.” you say impressed.

“Limiting your alcohol intake to a normal human level will do that to you.” he chuckles.

“My dumbass sixteen year old self wasn’t much better, arguably worse.” you counter. “I thought if I got rid of everything in my life that reminded me of him, I could force myself to forget.” your face falls slightly. “Which is worse? Diving in head first or turning your back entirely?” you push out a sound that’s supposed to be laugh.

“I think both are pretty fucking miserable.” you both laugh, he gives you reassuring look. “But, tragic backstory aside. I wanted to come home to face the music and make amends with my mom.”

“My mom told me she’s very happy you’re home.” you can’t help but feel her relief.

“Yeah, I really put her through hell.” his guilt present in his expression.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” he relaxes, his gaze fixed on yours for a moment. There’s those stars again.

He blinks, snapping his attention to his coffee. “I’m gonna get a refill” he says, disconnecting your hands, that you had forgotten you were holding, to tap his empty cup on the table. “Do you want another?”

“Yes please.” you say turning to rummage in your bag for a few dollars to give him, but when you turn around he’s already in line. You deflate setting the cash in front of you.

Your eyes wander around the cafe, inspecting the comforting eclectic vibe it produced. Your gaze stops on Jungkook standing in line, studying how his features have changed, how he has grown a few inches, his shoulders have broadened and how you can see the way his bicep flexes ever so slightly when he takes the coffee from the barista. What the fuck? Did I just check him out?

You inhale sharply, turning your focus on anything happening on the street outside the window.

When he’s seated back in front of you, you slide the small bills in his direction. He promptly slides them back towards you and you glare at him.

“When did you get so hell-bent on being nice?” he smiles.

You scrunch your brows and drop your jaw. “What do you mean? I’ve always been nice?” you question in defense and he laughs.

“You used to make fun of me all the time.” he states, crossing his arms.

“I mean yeah, but like in a sibling banter type way.” you frown. “Did you really think I was trying to bully you?”

“No!” he reassures. “I mean it kinda sucked because…” he trails off and takes a sip of his coffee in an attempt to abandon his sentence.

“Because?” You’re not getting away that easy.

“You know it’s funny.” he breathes. “I used to have a huge crush on you.” he admits nervously.

“And?” you blink.

“And?” he echos. “No reaction? Not even a slight inhale?”

“I knew, Gukkie.” you break as softly as you can.

Now it’s his turn to be surprised. “You did?” his furrows his brows in offense.

“We both did.” you laugh lightly. “Why do you think Yoongi left an obnoxious amount of hickies on my neck?” you can’t help but cringe a little at the memory.

“That asshole!” Jungkook’s jaw drops, and you snort. “I just thought you were normal slutty teenagers.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t.” you add trying to contain your laughter at the attention his outburst brought you.

He throws you an accusatory squint. “You guys suck.” — “You didn’t need to walk me back to work.” you beam at Jungkook as you walk through the doors of the station. “I don’t need protection.”

“I know you don’t.” he defends. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” you laugh.

“What did he do this time?” Taehyung chimes in loudly from his desk.

You turn to face him. “Nothing, we just got coffee and caught up.”

His expression remains bitter and unconvinced. You opt for brushing him off.

“Thank you, Gukkie.” you smile when you turn back to Jungkook.

“No, you.” he says, patting your hair affectionately before he exits.

You stand at your desk, shifting various papers to pick up where you left off when you see Taehyung approaching you out of the corner of your eye.

“What the fuck, y/n?” he asks angrily, and you widen your eyes in confusion.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“Listen, I get it.” he ignores you. “You let him off easy a couple times because you have history together or whatever. But now you’re going on a date with him?” he accuses.

“Tae, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” he scoffs, and your jaw tenses. “I would never slack on my job. And that most definitely was not a date.” your words sharp, hoping you’ll get him to drop whatever bullshit this is.

“Then why would you let him go both times?” he crosses his arms waiting impatiently for a response.

“I didn’t ‘let him go,’ because we had no reason to keep him. It’s not illegal to defend yourself or to be a bit of a stubborn ass.” you defend, raising your voice. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure okay.” Tae says, clearly annoyed averting his gaze from you.

“I trust him, and you should trust me Taehyung. Why are you being like this?” your voice falling slightly. “Because, I care about you, and the kid is bad news. Do you not remember all that shit he pulled at the end of high school before he took off for several years? He can just show up and everything is heart eyes and open arms?” he says trying to convince you but all it does is make your blood boil.

“I appreciate your concern,” you bite. “But you don’t know him.” He shakes his head letting out a stiff laugh. “Figures you wouldn’t be able to read him, you always did know how to pick ‘em.” “What the fuck, is that supposed to mean?” you say all but seeing red, trying but failing not to yell.

He tongues his cheek and turns to walk back to his desk, very much done with the subject, but you were far from it.

“No!” you say following him. “You can’t just say that and then walk away. Explain yourself.” “I don’t know what the fuck is going on out here but it’s going to end right now.” Captain Kim Namjoon says sternly from his office doorway, arms crossed tight on his chest. “Our apologies, Sir.” you say, both of you bowing at him.

“Y/n, you look frazzled, go home and walk it off.” he offers pointing at the door. “Captain, we’ll drop it. I-” “It wasn’t a suggestion, Officer y/l.” he interrupts. “I expect you’ll be better tomorrow.” his voice a little softer now.

“Yes, Sir.” you bow again, and turn on your heals quickly, avoiding Tae entering your line of vision.

You white knuckle your steering wheel your whole drive home, you’re probably speeding but you can’t be bothered to check. What are you gonna do? Get pulled over?

When your car is parked, you fish your phone out of your pocket. You pull up Jungkook’s contact and your finger hovers over the call button for a second, but you can’t bring yourself to press it with him having been so happy when you two parted less than an hour ago. You opt for seeking comfort from someone else.

You (3:32pm): I need you

Jimin (3:35pm): I’m off in an hour <3 — Your chest rises and falls rapidly while you stare at Jimin’s ceiling, waiting for the normal relief that settles after you two have sex.

But even after you’ve caught your breath you still don’t feel it, the sweat covering your body starting to feel less like afterglow and more like guilt. Why won’t my chest unknot? We’ve hate-fucked countless times. What’s different?

You brush it off shaking your head in the hopes you can trick yourself into feeling normal, before you stand up to gather your clothes. You shudder at how sticky your skin feels against itself as you button up your shirt.

You decide some fresh air would do you good, and you open his bedroom window and take a breath and let the flowers outside fill your nose.

“You okay, beautiful?” Jimin’s voice sounds from behind you. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” you say before you can fully register what you’re saying. You turn to him, his towel hanging lowly on his hips and the hand tousling his damp hair stops in its tracks, his eyes widen. “Is the sex not good anymore? I thought you liked it when I bit your ass.” he chuckles through his worry. His joke makes you soften a little. “No, it’s not anything you did.” you say walking over to hold his hands. “Remember how I said I was doing better?” he nods, his worry fades into a smile. “Turns out that’s more true than I thought it was.” you say and as the words leave your mouth, your body finds that relief it was looking for. Feeling like, for the first time in forever you don’t need to escape your own mind for a minute to function. “Is there a guy?” he quirks a mischievous brow. “Are you ready to be monogamous?” he gasps dramatically. You shove his shoulder while he giggles. “No guy, I just…” you think for a moment. “Don’t need to forget anymore.” you breathe, lungs feeling lighter, and he smiles brightly.

He hugs you tightly. “I really am proud of you, y/n.” he says into your hair. You smile against his shoulder. “Me too.”

You break the hug and he frowns slightly. “Guess it’s you and me for a while now bud.” he says looking at his palm.

“Jimin, I just had an emotional epiphany, and it only took you two seconds to be gross again?” “That’s why you love me.” he laughs trying to give you another hug. You laugh, pushing him by the shoulders. “Fuck off, Park.” — The sun hits your skin warming it despite the cool breeze, music playing your ears as your feet keep a steady rhythm against the pavement below you. Your late morning jog becoming more of a nature walk with the changing seasons. The greenery returning and the sweet smell it provides makes your limbs feel a bit lighter. You nearly throw a punch when someone starts jogging next to you. You stumble slightly after you nearly run into a sign. When you pull your ear buds out he’s laughing at you.

“Careful there.” Jungkook laughs, continuing to match your pace. “You scared the fuck out of me.” you huff steadying yourself. “What are you doing?” “Um-” He looks at you and then his feet. “Jogging?”

“Astute observation,” you smile in spite of yourself. “I mean why are you following me, creep?” you laugh. “I was jogging on the other side of the street and when I saw you I thought I’d join.” he shrugs. “I guess that’s allowed.” Neither of you talks for a few minutes, nothing but your shoes fitting the sidewalk and your heavy breaths filling your ears.

Normally with a silence like this your mind would shuffle through the files of your mind, bringing a similar memory to the forefront, good or bad. But you come up blank. You inhale deeply deciding to file this under ‘Something New.’

“Are you getting tired?” He asks. “No?”

“Good.” he smiles and tries to wink before he picks up his pace, pulling ahead of you. “A race? What are you, twelve?” you laugh running faster.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over me winning!” he calls over his shoulder, and you groan at the considerable distance he’s put between you.

“You’re an asshole!” you pick up your speed fully running ahead of him.

You laugh and chase each other halfway across town, if you could see how you look you would probably be embarrassed, but you can’t be bothered to think about anything but the wind hitting your face and the idiot you’re running with.

He stops in front of a small market, and contrary to how you struggle to catch your breath, your lungs feel fuller than they have in years.

“Do you wanna get ice cream?” he questions, eyeing the banner in the store window.

“Won’t that negate all the exercise we just did?” you breathe, wiping sweat off your forehead. “And?” “You make a strong argument.” you say pushing the door to the corner store open and sighing when the air condition hits you like a refreshing wall. You walk straight to the large freezer to pick out your respective flavors.

You wordlessly decide to walk home in favor of more running, talking about nothing between bites of your cold treats, and you can’t help but think the flowers smell a little sweeter. — You have more work to catch up on than you normally do, you opt for having lunch at your desk so you can work through your break. You have your lunch to your side as your fingers click away on your keyboard.

Something being placed gently on your desk draws your attention away from your screen. You look over too a coffee cup with ‘I’m sorry’ written on it and with a sheepish looking Tae with his hand still wrapped around it. “I’m sorry.” he says looking guilty. “Tae-”

“I acted like a complete ass the other day.” he interrupts before you can even fully think of a response. “Well I won’t argue with that.” you soften and he looks the slightest bit relieved. “I just care about you, and I don’t trust him.” he reiterates his statement from a few days prior.

“This apology was going so well.” you half laugh.

“But!” he adds quickly. “But, I trust you. And if you trust him, then that’s good enough for me.” he says with large eyes, nudging the coffee toward you in the hopes you’ll accept his regret. “Thank you, Tae.” you say taking a sip of the bittersweet drink, appreciating his sincerity. Truth be told, you had already begun to forgive him, he just wants you to be happy. If he expresses his concerns in a less assholistic way next time, you’d be happy to listen. “And I won’t stand in your way if you want to date him.” he smiles. “Like you could, I can kick your ass Kim.” you laugh. “And what is it with you and us dating? I promise you, it’s not like that.”

“Awfully defensive for someone who has no reason to be.” he eyes you with a stupid smirk.

“I just forgave you, don’t push it.” you point a finger and he raises his hands in defense though he doesn’t drop the taunting smirk on his face. He walks backwards to his desk and sits in his chair giving you a nod as one last confirmation that you’ve forgiven him. You continue your work, the air feeling light in the station for the first time since your fight. So focused on your pile of tasks you don’t even notice it’s dark out until the phone rings and makes you look up from your computer.

“Hello, this is Officer y/l.”

“Hello dear, this is Mrs. Choi.” she says sweetly. It’s like clockwork with this fucking lady. “Could you possibly send an officer to this side of town? I saw a young man in a black hoodie hop the fence to the old place.” Well that is far more description than usual.

“Of course, I’ll go make sure everything is okay.” you reassure.

“It’s appreciated as always, Miss y/n.” she says before she hangs up.

“Mrs. Choi?” Tae asks lazily, not even lifting his eyes from his computer.

“Yep.” you say tossing your jacket on.

“Do you want me to check on it?” now he’s looking at you, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“No, I’ll be fine.” you smile. More than fine this time.

Your drive to the old house feels way more like a normal patrol than it ever has, the air feeling like a fog has been cleared. Or perhaps you’re just getting a little too used to Mrs. Choi’s usual request.

You walk down the familiar dirt driveway and your eyebrows furrow when you see a light in the window. Incredible, the old woman who cried wolf is actually right.

“Police!” you shout before you turn the doorknob, your guard not too high as you’re expecting a harmless teenager. Though you’re surprised when you find Jungkook sitting against the wall at the edge of the tattered living room, his legs bent with his forearms resting on them and a bottle of whiskey by his hip. “I’m not here to damage any property.” he says calmly, raising his hands above his head in a lazy surrender. “What are you doing here?” you ask and point your flashlight at the ceiling to better light the space, the light on his phone not doing very much by itself.

“It was something of a quiet place for me. I guess old habits die hard.” he said patting the dusty wall he’s leaning against.

“It was for me too.” you breathe, you look around the room taking in how it’s become even more run down and not quite as beautiful as you remember but breathtaking even without the fantastical dream cloud your memories have become muddled with. “Did he bring you here too?” he looks at you through his messy hair, much more practiced than you at bringing Yoongi up in conversation.

“Yeah he did.” you smile fondly. “We used to have picnics here all the time during the summer.”

“Sounds romantic.” he says, with a comedic scoff.

“Hey, for a sixteen year old? Peak romance.” you retort and he chuckles, letting his head fall against the wall. “He never told me he brought you here too.” you furrow your brows. “Makes sense though, it was his favorite place.” “Yeah, he brought me here a few times when he could ‘remove the stick from my ass.’” he laughs at the memory. “I never understood, there’s about three inches of dust on everything and all the windows are cracked.” he shakes his head. “But after he was gone, it was the most peaceful place I could find. There’s no place as serene as these four shitty walls.” he smiles looking up at you. “It was far less peaceful for me after the accident. The silence coming from this place was deafening for a long time.” you take a seat next to him. “But it��s not so bad anymore.” you hum, eyes scanning the room. You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes letting the sound of the crickets fill your ears, doing your best to not disrupt the stillness around you.

“I want to thank you.” your mouth making the decisions for you once again. “I missed you a lot and spending time with you has been really nice. I’ve been able to face things again that I didn’t think I ever would.” you steady your breath. “So, thank you.”

“I should thank you too.” he begins, and you turn to watch the way his profile moves when he speaks. “I can’t recall a time I smiled when thinking of him. It feels nice to reminisce, not just remember and wish he was still here.”

“God, he wouldn’t recognize either of us.” you say looking down at your uniform and Jungkook’s dirtied jeans.

“He’d kick both our asses.” you laugh.

“You know for a long time,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I was upset because I lost the boy I was in love with.” he shifts a bit. “But somewhere along the way, it became less about being in love and more that someone I cared for so deeply was gone. I don’t know when or where I fell out of love, but it took me a long time to realize that I had.” “I don’t think falling in or out of love can be pinned to a single moment. You just kinda have to take a step back every so often to assess how fucked you currently are.” he laughs, leaning his head on yours. “How vulgar yet profound.” you smile and lace your fingers together. Your mind is running at a dull roar. You had never actually said you weren’t in love with Yoongi out loud before, not even to yourself. You suppose on some level you’ve known for years but saying it made you aware of just how true it was, like you’d been standing on a diving board for ages and finally took the leap that wasn’t so scary after all. You’d still give your left arm to have him there with you now, whether you were still just as in love or maybe just a friend. You still loved him but maybe… I’m not in love anymore. Before you have a chance to explore that thought further you feel Jungkook’s lips on yours, you gasp slightly and move your mouth with his, humming at how soft his lips are.

Despite your realization, when you close your eyes you’re overwhelmed with how familiar this feels. The stale smell of the wood around you and images of Yoongi kissing you right where you’re sitting flashing through your mind. Suddenly your heart is beating in your ears and just as quickly as it began you break the kiss.

“Fuck, y/n I’m so sorry.” he says when his eyes meet yours again. “No don’t be, it’s okay.” you say, trying but failing to keep your voice steady as you stand. He gets up to follow you but his feet seem to be stuck. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it.” you force a smile. “I should get back to work, I’ll see you Guk.” You say trying to ignore how your throat wants to close. He doesn’t answer, just watches as you close the door behind you, leaving him alone in the empty house. The sense of serenity he found within these walls fades as the light of your flashlight gets further away.

You pull out of the driveway, and remember why you were here in the first place when you see Mrs. Choi’s house across the street. You decide to say fuck it and drive back to the station and hope that she just went to bed. — You (2:30am): Sorry I left. I just need to think

Jungkook (2:37am): No I’m sorry, take your time

You read the same two texts over for what has to be the three hundredth time in the last few days. For a long time you stared at it unsure if you should respond, and then too much time had passed.

Not even texting could be simple with Jungkook.

But where the paradox lies is, if you stop thinking, the smile you hold when you’re with him is the simplest thing you’ve ever done.

Just like the texts you play the kiss in your mind on a loop, your lips tingling at the memory. The old house under your feet and Jungkook’s arms around you crosses too many wires in your brain for anything to make sense.

All you know is… when he kissed your lips you felt like you could breathe again. — You’re sitting on your couch when you hear a frantic knocking at your door. You jump at the sound and check the time. 11:30? What the hell? Your training kicks in and you approach your door and open it slowly.

“Okay listen, I’m so fucking sorry.” Jungkook rambles frantically pushing past you beginning to pace around your living room. “It was fucked up to kiss you, but I just- your eyes looked so beautiful and- shit that’s not the point.” he runs a hand through his hair trying to collect his thoughts. “Guk, it’s okay. You don’t need to-”

“I know what I did was shitty but we haven’t talked in days, and I can’t bear to not have you in my life again.” he’s on the verge of yelling at this point. “This time since I’ve been home with you is the most alive I’ve felt since I was fucking fifteen.”

“I’m not upset with y-”

“I know, I wouldn’t forgive me either, but I needed to try and-”

“Oh for fucks sake.” you mumble as he continues to ramble. You take in a breath. “I wanted you to kiss me!”

“I-” he finally stops, nearly out of breath. “You what?” “I wanted you to kiss me, that’s what scared me.” you clarify now that he’s listening.

He just blinks unsure of what to say. He imagined this going far differently, something more along the mine of you slamming the door in his face, but you didn’t and his heart swells as he takes in your words. “I want it too.” you continue though you’re unsure where you’re going. “I love you, Jungkook, and I can’t get your stupid pretty smile out of my head and-”

“You love me?” the words falling from his mouth softly, and his gaze fixes on your face.

“Yes.” you breathe realizing what you just said. “And it scares the shit out of me.”

“How do you think I feel? I’m in love with my deceased brother’s ex.” he counters, laughing at how ridiculous your situation is, and your heart can’t help but race at his bittersweet words. “But you’re the first time I’ve felt home in forever.” he says, his eyes hiding behind messy bangs.

“Me too.” you admit, and the air in your lungs feels lighter. “I know he would want us to follow our hearts but… like this?” you ask sheepishly, maintaining the distance between you as if neither of you are allowed to cross the invisible threshold.

“I think that even if you guys got the opportunity to break up like two normal ass teenagers…”  he begins, his face full of concern but his eyes filled with the hope that you’ll agree. “He always wanted everyone he cared about to be happy, and fuck y/n, you make me so happy. You always have.” There’s those stars again.

“But I feel guilty.” your eyes threatening to water for the first time in a long time, and your lips tingle at the memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours. “Me too.” he takes a step closer to you. “But we don’t have to. We can-” “No, you don’t understand.” you interrupt and he deflates. “I feel guilty because even though we’re talking about him… I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want you to kiss me again.” “Fuck, okay.” he says as if you had just stolen the air from his lungs. He quickly closes the gap between you and reconnects your lips. You put your arms around his neck and attempt to pull him as close as you can, his hands are warm on your jaw and the dream cloud in your mind feels as if it’s been wrapped around the two of you. A blanket of home that you didn’t know had been missing until you had it again.

You run your fingers through his hair and savor how it feels in your hands. He licks into your mouth and his heavy breaths feel hot between kisses. He feels almost frantic as you feel his nails gently dig into the sides of your neck, as though you’d slip out of his grasp if he doesn’t tighten his grip, the dull pressure making you moan into his mouth.

You put your hands on his and he relaxes his fingers. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging it lightly and he groans at the sensation, your thighs rub together at how you’re affecting him.

You wordlessly guide him to the couch and nudge him gently until his shoulders are flush with the back of the couch. You straddle him and his thighs flex underneath your ass, you resist the urge to grind down onto him in favor of kissing along his jaw.

His tense shoulders release under your hands as your lips continue their path to his neck. Your teeth graze his skin and his breath catches in your ear, you smirk and bite down harder. His hands quickly grab onto your hips squeezing them in tandem with your mouth, you run your tongue along his reddened skin and your sounds create the most beautiful harmony you’ve ever heard.

Your hips give into temptation and grind down on his hardened dick, the layers between you not doing much in the way of friction but the way his hands tighten around your waist send heat through you melting you from the inside out.

Your hand snakes between you to palm him through his jeans and you move your head up to face him, to see how sweet he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and lips parted from your touch. He reconnects your mouths and the kiss is messy as neither of you can properly think.

You break the kiss and quickly slip to your knees between his thighs. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pause your movement, eyes searching for his. “Is this okay?” you ask with a slight tug to his pants, he answers by smirking lazily and helping you slide them down his hips.

You pull his boxers down and your mouth waters when you see his dick, the tip a frustrated shade of red. You run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of this length, wrapping your lips around it when you reach the tip. He groans as if he’s relieved to finally have your lips wrapped around him. He grips your hair tightly, fingers flexing against your scalp as he fights the urge to push your head down to his base.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good, sweetheart.” he says out of breath, working against his flexing abdomen to keep his voice steady. You hum around him in response making his hips stutter against your mouth, and arousal pools at your core.

You sink your mouth as far down as you can and he moans deeply holding your head in place beginning to thrust into your mouth to test the waters. You grip his thighs to ground yourself and do your best to ignore the way your lungs are beginning to burn. He picks up his pace and you take his cock in your throat until tears prick in your eyes. You tap his thigh and he takes the hint releasing your head so you can breath again.

“You like having your pretty mouth fucked, don’t you?” he questions as he wipes a tear from your eye with his thumb. You nod eagerly and move to take his cock back in your mouth but his grip on your hair stops you. “Patience beautiful,” his eyes darken looking at your swollen lips. “Open.” he says, his voice low. You oblige, flatting your tongue for good measure, he spits in your mouth and his cock twitches at the sight. He lowers your lips back on his dick, the extra wetness making him groan at how messy you look, and you try to keep your throat as relaxed as you can, doing your best to ignore the growing arousal between your legs.

He breaks his assault on your mouth, pulling your head up with a wet pop and you gasp. “Can I taste you too, sweetheart?” he asks sweetly despite how ready he looks to devour you.

“Yes Sir.” you answer and his pupils twitch at the name.

“You’re gonna ruin me.” he laughs stiffly, releasing your hair and you realize how sore your scalp is.

You stand on shaky legs, he sheds his shirt and you follow suit before laying on the couch in front of him. You tuck your fingers in your waistband but he stops you. “Let me.” He says his eyes softening and you relent.

He puts his large palm on your waist and kisses your lips slowly contradicting his previous actions. He leaves hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and down your chest, the wet trail he leaves behind feeling cold when the air hits it. He wraps his mouth around one of your hardened nipples, swirling his tongue and teasing his teeth on the sensitive skin.

Your moan catches in your throat as he bites down and your hand tangles in his hair trying to pull him closer. His free hand runs up your arm removing it from his head and pinning against the cushion gently, you lace your fingers together and you can feel him smile against your chest.

His mouth doing little to relieve the real fire you’re feeling growing deep in your abdomen. You give into the urge to move your hips against his waist and he chuckles deeply taking the hint and continuing his path down your stomach, nipping at your skin when he reaches the hem of your pants.

His breathing picks up again as he slips your pants down your legs and the wet spot on your underwear is exposed to his gaze. He takes his time removing your panties, reveling in the string of your slick that follows. “Such a pretty pussy.” he breathes quietly just to himself.

He tosses them on the floor and eagerly puts your thighs on his shoulders placing gentle pecks anywhere but where you need his mouth. You roll your hips to meet his face and he smirks darkly at your frustration. After properly enjoying your wordless plea he gives you what you want, licking a long flat stripe from your entrance to your clit and you whine at the small bit of relief he’s giving you.

“Did you get this wet just from sucking my cock, sweetheart?” you deflate slightly at his teasing and nod, clenching around nothing at his words. He swallows a groan at the sight in front of him.

He wastes no time wrapping his lips around your clit, swirling tongue in delicious circles. A moan rips out of your throat at the sudden stimulation and he groans wrapping his arms tighter around your thighs.

You move your hips against his face and he shifts his mouth to collect your juices on his tongue before moving back up to your clit. You fight how your thighs want to close around his head but he only presses himself further into you at the shaking against his ears.

You feel him at your entrance, stretching you slowly with two fingers as he continues his work on your clit. He curls his digits into you and your hips buck at the sensation.

“That’s my good girl, fuck yourself on my tongue.” he moans into your folds, flattening his tongue for you to use. He picks up the pace of his hand and you rut against his mouth. The sounds you’ve been swallowing down flowing out of your lips before you can stop them.

“Jungkook, fuck!” you whine and he scissors his fingers faster to bring you to your rapidly approaching peak. Your walls clench and your rhythm falters, he wraps his lips around your clit sucking as he does. Your orgasm rips through you and onto his fingers with a loud moan.

“You’re so beautiful.” he says breathless, he almost sounds amazed that someone can look so beautiful when they cum.

He quickly climbs over you, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand and reconnecting your lips as soon as he reaches your face, he can’t get enough of your lips and you moan at your taste on his mouth.

He slips his pants down his legs, and lines himself up with your entrance, gasping at your wetness on his painfully hard cock. His eyes widen “I didn’t bring a-”

“I’m on the pill.” you reassure, grinding up against his dick.

“Thank fuck.” he sighs, pushing his cock in as he does. Your eyes close at the stretch he’s providing. He pushes in rather slowly savoring every small clench and twitch your walls give him.

He’s quick to pick up the pace seeing as you were more than happy when he was rough earlier. You moan at how well he fucks into you, you hold onto his arms as you’re afraid you’ll float away if you don’t anchor yourself. He smacks his hips against you harder and you gasp at how deep he is, trying your best not to yelp.

He wraps his arm around your back and takes a handful of your hair, yanking against your sore scalp until your chin is pointing at the ceiling, and you can’t contain your moans with your neck so open. “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Give me all those beautiful sounds.” he says into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck.

With your new position you’re a moaning mess underneath him and you feel him smirk against your skin as he delivers particularly hard thrusts, the sound of your moans and slapping skin filling the room..

He continues his relentless pace, watching you in awe. “Such a pretty slut.” he groans. “Look at you falling apart on my cock.” you can only whimper in response. He rubs your clit so he can watch your eyes roll back, doing his best to ignore his approaching orgasm so he can feel you cum again on his cock.

“I’m- fucking- I’m gonna-.” you try to warn doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Good girl, cum for me, beautiful.” he soothes, lacing his finger with yours, mumbling praises into your ear as you clench around him, his hips work hard to keep their pace through your orgasm.

With his not far behind, he thrusts faster finally letting go. He reconnects your lips, the kiss hot and messy as his end is finally in sight.

His hips stutter. “I love you.” He breathes as he releases into you, falling against you shortly after and you laugh, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes while he catches his breath.

“I love you, too.” you whisper and he hums holding you tightly.

“I could get used to hearing that.” he smiles brightly, before he kisses you slowly. — “So…” you begin after the two of you are showered. Jungkook is sitting on the end of your bed ruffling his damp hair. “So?” he perks up, taking your hands in his. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you say squeezing his hands, still a little nervous despite the several ‘I love you’s and how your heart pounds when you look in eyes. Still a little nervous that if you hold on too tight he’ll slip through your fingers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” he says leaning into your touch, and his words calm your racing heart.

“Okay.” you smile brightly, and he can’t help but mirror you.

“Hey.” he says, making sure you’re giving him your full attention, and you meet his gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” — You stand next to Jungkook, fingers laced tightly together, as you stare down the familiar dirt driveway.

“You ready?” he asks, still looking straight ahead at the chicken wire fence.

“No.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He squeezes your hand in his as you walk through the dirt and into the old house, same as you left it. You walk past the living room into the furthest bedroom where Yoongi’s mark is most prominent in the house. You stop at the corner where he carved that heart in the wall that, besides some dust, looks just like the day he put it there.

“Hi Hyung,” Jungkook begins. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to talk to you in a long time.” he looks a tad nervous as if he’ll be reprimanded, he squeezes your hand and you rub your thumb over his knuckles. “I found her,” he says, sounding more sure of himself. “And I wanted you to meet her. Are you surprised?”

“We are too.” you breathe out a laugh. “Hey Yoongs,” your voice is a little shaky. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, I just didn’t know how.” you breathe. “I miss you, and I want you to know that I’m happy.” you reassure, remembering how he always checked. “We’re happy.” you put your other hand on Jungkook’s.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.” He adds, placing a kiss on your temple.

“And I’ll take care of him.” you say, and you both put your hand on the heart gently. That final breath that was taken from you those years ago returns and your lungs finally feel full again, and you open your mouth to speak.

“I love you, angel.”

————————

A/N -> Hello! I hope you liked it!!! I’m really proud of this one, feel more than free to send me an ask with your thoughts, I’d love to know what you thought. <3

Tag List -> @ancailinaerach​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @bunnyboyenthusiast​ @singularity-mp3​ 

[charlthotte]

Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 17  

In an instant, I sprung up from my bed - no longer tired. "I'm coming." I stated, immediately changing into to some more appropriate clothes than the pyjamas I was wearing at the time. 

Speeding down the stairs, I grabbed a hold of my coat, while clumsily fumbling with the laces of my shoes. My dad seemed to be disturbed by the humungous racket I was causing, standing at the summit of the stairs, tiredly rubbing his eyes, his voice raspy from being abruptly woken up. He must have noticed the panicked expression on my face, understanding the situation rather quickly – giving me a sullen smile, “I’m proud of you, kiddo. Come back when you’re ready.” He said, waving me off with a sleepy hand.

I hastily locked the door behind me, almost running down the street – even though the moonlight barely lit up the pavements before me. Even after squinting to try to get my eyes to adjust to the lack of light – I could hardly see a thing; but even so, my legs carried me the whole way to Takanobu’s house, as if they were being called towards it.

Someone must have kept the front door open for my sake, as I had no trouble in opening it. Trying my best to make as little noise as possible as I stepped over the threshold into the house, I laid my eyes upon the scene on the living room’s floor. Both Ejiri and Takanobu were sprawled out on the carpet, either side of Shiro – both of their pairs of eyes brimming with abundances of tears, with some already cascading down their faces.

Somehow, Shiro appeared even more sickly than the last time I had seen him, his hair much sparser, his bones protruding more than before, his eyes glistening with a type of pain I had never seen before – pleading for a sense of relief that no one could grant him.

Underneath Takanobu’s eyes sat sunken bags, the pallor of a bruise. His expression sullen, sapped and unchanging – seemingly exhausted from being far too anxious to sleep. His cheeks were gaunter, parodying those of a malnourished child – it was obvious that he hadn’t been eating either – too internally turmoiled to do anything.

Whimpering and cowering on the floor, Shiro began gasping frantically for whatever air he could fathom – the colossal amounts of anguish he was experiencing reverberating from his frail self.

I couldn’t help but run straight towards him, beside the broken figure of Takanobu, whose eyes were shining with a stinging shade of red. Collapsing onto the floor, I ran my hand over Shiro’s back, feeling unnerved by each of his vertebrae jutting outwards. I tried my best to console his cries, softly telling him that everything would be okay. But I wasn’t really saying that to Shiro, I knew, in reality, that I was actually uttering them to solace he who sat to my side.

Almost instantly, Takanobu’s head fell down onto my shoulder, immediately letting himself go – as if all the sorrow and trepidation he had been bottling up inside were tumbling outwards. First, he lightly sobbed onto me, his breath hitching slightly, then, he began blubbering and weeping as if it was his last day on Earth – which, being frank, was     probably exactly how he felt.

In a matter of minutes, his grieving grew so intense that he struggled to intake oxygen, with his face still buried in my shoulder, lamentation taking control of his body. Gingerly, I raised my hand until it sat atop his hair, gently caressing it while I let it swirl and run around my fingers. He almost seemed to sink at my touch, his shoulders releasing the tension they were holding, the pressure inside of him completely fizzling out. For the time being…

While Takanobu nestled into my shoulders further, he never let his eyes leave his companion laid on the floor – who has quickly losing his grasp on the living world. By his side, Ejiri sighed with an undertone of unease laced into her expression – and from my inference, I knew exactly what she was thinking.

I tenderly nudged my shoulder that Takanobu laid on, signalling to him that Shiro’s end was right in front of our faces. As he rose, he took a deep breath of reassurance to himself that he could get through it. Without a second thought, he scooped Shiro up delicately in his arms, careful not to move in any way that could potentially cause him any discomfort.

Sentimentally, he smiled at his friend, perhaps reminiscing about past times they spent together, the times when the spindly fingers of death weren’t looming down upon their lives. Takanobu cradled the frail form in his arms, rocking him at a steady, gentle rhythm – stroking his fur with an extremely light touch.

Slowly but surely, Shiro’s panting for air became truly exasperated – the agony from the lack of it clawing and scrabbling at his throat – the whimpers exiting from his mouth cutting through the atmosphere in an excruciating manner. He writhed around in Takanobu’s arms, the pure hurt overriding everything else around him – burning every single nerve in his body, as if he was being stabbed by white-hot knives.

And suddenly, a stagnant plateau ripped through the air, no longer was Shiro struggling for breath, no longer was he writing around in absolute agony, but somehow he still hung on, clinging onto his last thread of life. Feeling despaired, Takanobu lovingly stroked his dog’s head for the last time, savouring the feeling of his warmth for the final minute, smiling down at him for the final moment. Just as he murmured his last ‘Goodbye’, was when Shiro spluttered – the last of his existence trailing out from his body.

He was dead.

Gone.

The air fell reticent, no one dared to say a single word. Instead, Takanobu dropped to his knees, still clutching onto the newly deceased corpse of Shiro, burying his face into his fur; sobbing as if his world had ended. Which was probably the figurative truth for him.

“Why… Why… Why… Why… Why…” Takanobu uttered meekly, falling into a pit of tremendous grief.

Sensing his distraught state, Ejiri shuffled towards him, prying Shiro’s lifeless body from his arms – having to put a substantial amount of effort in to do so. She smiled solemnly at her nephew, brushing her hand along his bicep, telling him that now was the time to let go of the corpse of his truest friend – who once was everything to him. But now, he was nothing more than a gradually waning memory.

Eventually, Takanobu gave in, cautiously handing Shiro over into the arms of Ejiri, a distraught look upon his face. He shakily raised his hands up to his chest, winding them around each other, each hand grasping onto the other – pressing them into his torso, his face contorting from overwhelming emotions.

Ejiri softly spoke from out of the blue, “I think you should say goodbye now, Takanobu.” Setting Shiro down on the sofa, wrapping him in a blanket acting in the role of a shroud.

Takanobu knelt on the floor nest to the sofa, hesitantly uncovering the fabric from Shiro’s face, cupping it in one of his hands – beginning to blubber at the sight of his former pet’s eyes glazed over, “Thank you, Shiro,” He began, pushing back his tears. “You were always there to make me smile – even when I felt like I couldn’t. When I felt like I had no one to turn to, you were there, always. When I felt like the whole world was against me, I was never truly alone. Even though we never spoke, you taught me that there was good in this world – and for all of that, thank you, goodbye.” He paused, wiping his eyes, while swiftly glancing up at me, “And, I love you.”

I froze when he said that, even if those words weren’t directed at me, they still resonated within me, as if… I wanted to hear them.

After saying my short farewell to Shiro, Ejiri bundled the shrouded corpse in her arms – finally taking it away, presumably to the crematorium. A distant look of longing reflected in Takanobu’s eyes as he watched his aunt carry the bundle to the car. Looking at him in that agony made my heart burn, so I immediately guided him to the sofa, setting him down so he lay against it, letting his head loll against the cushions, having no energy to use his strength to keep it held upright.    

I pushed myself upwards, heading towards the kitchen in order to prepare a glass of water for the wreck in the living room. After placing it down on the coffee table, trying to stir up as little commotion as possible – I hopped placidly onto the sofa, crossing my legs, directly behind where Takanobu rested his head. But rather than rise to quench his thirst from unrelenting mourning, instead he gazed straight at me, the nape of his neck upon the edge of the sofa. His eyes were glazed over with a sheen of unadulterated hurt – but there was something behind them – just the way he looked at me… It was so bittersweet.

I couldn’t help but stroke his hair, letting the crisp, white blades run passed and around my fingers, while giving his scalp a small massage. A small, earnest smile cracked from his lips – the left side of them curling upwards like it always did. Releasing a sombre sigh, he let a single tear roll down his cheek; and as if by instinct, I reached over to his face to wipe it away, as if I didn’t want his melancholy to sully him – as if I wanted him to stay okay, at least – for which I was truly desperate for.

Chuckling mirthlessly, Takanobu gruffly spoke, his voice damaged from persistently grieving, “Thank you, (Y/N). From the bottom of my heart, honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stayed with me, even though… You deserve so much more than me. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve met – if not the kindest. You mean so much to me.” His face crumpled with tears, which I soon wiped away, assuring him that I was still there, and always would be – no matter the time of day.

“No, Takanobu, thank you. You have been nothing but the paragon of a friend, since the first day we met. And even if you feel as though you haven’t done enough to ‘deserve’ me, you should know that that isn’t true at all. Not one bit. You mean so much to me, too – you really have no idea” I replied, smiling fondly while caressing Takanobu’s cheek with my thumb, wiping away any tears that continued to fall.

Without saying another word, Takanobu outstretched his arm, tenderly placing his hand upon my own, rubbing his thumb comfortingly over the back of my hand – staring straight into my eyes while smiling serenely – his pupils heavily dilated, despite the more than adequate amount of light in the room.

I don’t remember how much time we spent in that position – our hands and eyes intertwined with his head very nearly resting in my lap – but I do now that a small eternity passed before Ejiri returned from the crematorium, the house one soul shorter. But when she walked through the door, Takanobu abruptly removed my palm from his grasp and diverting his line of sight. Wringing his hands together in his lap, he stared down at the floor – quite obviously flustered.

Clearing her throat, Ejiri broke the newly awkward silence, “Do you two want anything to eat? We don’t want you to go to sleep with an empty stomach, now do we?” She smiled, walking over to the kitchen, her usual pep in her step having disappeared, yet she still kept up her cheery front, as if she felt unable to break in front of her nephew.

Takanobu nodded in affirmation, still not looking up from the ground. “Is there anything you would like, my dear?” She asked, turning to me from across the way.

“Oh no, I really don’t mind.” I responded.

“Do tell me if you change your mind though, darlings.” She averred, turning to the cupboards to find the ingredients to whatever she planned to make.

Little time had come before Ejiri placed three bowls upon the dining table, each one brimming with a steaming soup – they smelled delicious.

However, after I sat down to indulge in the small meal, I entirely lost my appetite, even though it looked rather appetising. The same could seem to be said about Takanobu, who was feverishly trying to force the soup down his throat, much to no avail, as he began heaving at the food in his mouth. Desperately, he scampered to the bathroom with his hand clamped over his mouth. Immediately and without a single second of hesitation, both Ejiri and I rushed to the bathroom door, which had been strangely locked from the inside.

Ejiri softly wrapped her knuckles against the wood, asking to be let in, trying to raise her voice above the sickening sound of Takanobu’s retching. But there was no reply from him. So, I decided to ask if I could be let in the bathroom, to which my request was granted.

Closing the door behind me, leaving Ejiri at the other side of the threshold – instantly dropping to Takanobu’s side while rubbing his back while he clung to the toilet’s lid, violently throwing up. The sight before me was truly agonising to look at, especially since Takanobu had hardly consumed a thing that day.

Takanobu eyes watered in agony from the absolute discomfort of regurgitating a highly acidic substance – he pushed through the uneasiness, trying to push out dialogue, “I’m sorry, (Y/N). You shouldn’t have so see this.” He croaked in between the constant heaves.

“I really don’t care about that, Takanobu. What matters now, is that I’m here with you.” I smiled, “Just take your time.”

He glanced at me through the side of his eyes, his vision moving up and down my person – his eyelids drooping from overexertion – smiling with a nature that I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Quite some time passed before the ailing wretch before me curtailed his vomiting, but after he did, the only noticeable aspect of him was his pure enervation – his entire frame collapsing onto mine, the added weight nearly toppling me over. I tried to steady the both of us, clumsily striving to lead him over to his bed – which required quite the amount of vigour.

As soon as I deposited him upon his bed, it seemed as though he completely passed out from heightened fatigue – however, I was deeply mistaken. Just as I was about to leave to slumber on the sofa downstairs, Takanobu firmly grasped onto my wrist, preventing my exit, “Stay... Please…” He tiredly rasped.

Pausing in my tracks, I turned back around – setting myself down on the carpet, leaning towards him – gazing at his sleepy figure. “I could stay on the floor, if you’d like?” I whispered serenely.

Sluggishly, he shook his head, gulping before he spoke, “Could you stay here, with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight.” His eyes shining hopefully in the dimly illuminated air.

“Oh…” I said in shock, as a reflex to his question.

Takanobu peered off to the side sheepishly, “Only if that’s okay with you, of course.”

I cupped his face, encouraging him to look at me directly. Noticing his expression had been greatly saddened, I couldn’t find the heart to refuse his request. “I’ll stay with you.” I chuckled, “Just scoot over a bit.”

Without hesitation, I clambered into his bed, expecting the encounter to be deeply awkward. But to my pleasant surprise, it was nothing of the sort.

Almost immediately, Takanobu wrapped both of his arms around me tightly, as if he couldn’t stand to let me go, nuzzling his chin into the top of my head. Exhaling calmly, I let all of my previous stress and discomfort depart my body, until my mood was nothing but mellow. In his arms, even though I had no way to move, I felt right at home.

It took little time for Takanobu to fall right into the depths of torpor, his breathing calming considerably as it managed to make every single hair on my body stand on end. But while he lay in his stupor, almost like a reflex, one of his hands made its way towards my own, our fingers intertwining like a perfectly clad jigsaw. At any other time, I would have felt utterly smothered, but there was something there… Something in the way he clung to me, his touch still remaining as gentle as a collector handling their porcelain doll.

A hammering beat rang through my ears, my heart thrumming out of control – I tried to assure myself that my flustered state could be chalked down to nothing more than the sudden contact. But I didn’t let that thought trouble me for too long, instead relaxing into the warm embrace of Takanobu’s body. Soon, every tension in me released itself, unwinding each of their unrelenting grips from around me – coercing me into the pits of slumber.

Despite the heart wrenching turn of events of that day and the day to come, that night was perhaps the best sleep of my life – dreaming of being cast into a field adorned by an abundance of romantically red tulips, much like a field I remember from my childhood back in Hokkaido, frolicking around without a care in the world. However, something about that field felt strikingly new, as if there was something major to be discovered there.

As I woke, my eyelids fluttering, adapting to the morning sunlight – I was met with a pair of eyes gazing straight into mine, pupils dilated greatly. Sheepish, they became upon realising that their watching session had been uncovered. Immediately, Takanobu shot up from his lying position, springing backwards awkwardly. Perplexed by his sudden display of discomfiture, I sleepily raised my eyebrows. “Sorry.” Was all he replied.

“You don’t need to apologise.” I softly spoke, reaching my hand forward to clasp onto his – caressing my thumb over his knuckles. With his knees tucked beneath his chin, he spun his head towards me, casting a somewhat adoring glance my way – tightening his grasp around his hand as if he would never let go.

I too sat up, taking my place beside Takanobu, not once releasing my hand from his – resting my head on his shoulder, warm and secure – with him, in due time, laying his head upon my own. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know the pain he was in – even if his stoic expression had barely a crack in it.

We stayed in that position until Ejiri knocked on the door, calling us downstairs for breakfast, even if Takanobu’s appetite had yet to return. By the time I had finished my plate of comestibles, there was barely even a dint in his, the gargantuan lump in his throat preventing him from ingesting anything. I couldn’t tell what part of him would break first.

As Takanobu and I lay on the sofa, our hands intertwined still – Ejiri having left for her shift at work – he proposed the idea of inviting Futakuchi over to the house, and of course I couldn’t deny a broken man.

Less than fifteen minutes after calling him, Futakuchi arrived at the door, devoid of his trademark smirk, as well as a snarky remark, for the time being…

Just as he hung his coat up, he made perhaps the worst timed quip he had ever made, “So what are you two doing here alone?” He inquired, oblivious to the events of the previous night.

Straight away, I shot him a deadly glare, “Kenji.” I scorned, not in the mood for entertaining one of his jests. That being the first time I had called him by his given name, he was immensely taken aback, but I wasn’t completely sure why. Was it the fact I had called him by his first name, or the fact that someone had shot him down from his pedestal and into the mud.

“Ohhh…” He said in shock, realising how distasteful his statement was, “God, I’m so sorry, Takanobu, I really didn’t realise.”

Takanobu shook his head to show he wasn’t fazed by what Futakuchi has insensitively spoke – but I knew that wasn’t genuine dismissal, at all.

A few moments of awkward silence passed by before the shattered boy broke it, “Kenji, can we talk?” Takanobu queried, while twiddling his thumbs around one another.

“Sure…” Kenji replied, curiously – seemingly endeavouring to the infer the subject of the coming conversation before it arrived. But just before they left for Takanobu’s bedroom, he turned to me, “Hey, your highness… The hour seems to rather adequate to that in which civilised people would dine, don’t you agree?”

“Yes, Futakuchi – it is lunchtime.” I sighed.

“So, Takanobu and I were wondering… Could you perhaps prepare us a fine dining experience of some lavish kuri kinton? It’s my here friend’s very favourite food in the entire world. For him, of course.” He acquiesced, guiding Takanobu up the stairs before either him or I had the chance to reply.

For Takanobu.

Luckily, I knew the basic recipe for kuri kinton, nothing special – I hoped my making it would at least encourage him to eat.

All the ingredients were conveniently hidden around the kitchen, allowing for a stress-free preparation, for the most part. I believed that everything was flowing absolutely swimmingly, until I somehow managed to set the smoke alarm off while boiling the sweet potatoes. Deafening were the alarm’s whines.

Frantically, I attempted to turn it off, beginning to panic. But just as I was about to turn the alarm’s sensor off temporarily, a wide-eyed Futakuchi came careening down the stairs, his face screaming the epitome of dread. He ran over to the switch, managing to turn it off before I could, acting as if he saved the house from a crisis, his smirk as broad as ever. Little did I know, the crisis had already been set into motion.

Kenji joined me in the kuri kinton’s preparation – resulting in a merely adequate meal. Holding the steaming plate in my hand, I wrapped my knuckles upon the door to Takanobu’s room waiting to be let in. There was no reply – just silence. Nervously, Futakuchi and I stepped into his room in tandem, only for it to be completely devoid of his presence. My heart dropped.

I motioned over to the bathroom door, noticing the lock latched tight. We both pressed our ears against the wood, hearing a faint whimpering behind it. My body froze, dropping the plate of kuri kinton all over the floor, the plate crashing with a shuddering clank.

I knew exactly what was happening, and it hurt… so much.

And in that moment I realised exactly why that pain I felt was so immense. It was because…

I loved him.

[sortasirius]

“Last Call” and Canon Bi Dean

This is going to be very long, very rambly, and very emotional.

Really though, I had high expectations going into this, and quite honestly?  Jeremy Adams blew me away.

This episode is about Dean’s growth, it’s about who he was to Lee, and who he is now, about overcoming his own desire to just stop caring and keep on fighting for the innocent.  But most importantly to me?  This episode canonized bi Dean.

So let’s just get right into it, we know from the beginning that we’re meeting Lee, Dean’s old friend that Sam doesn’t really know or isn’t really close with, but the way Dean leaves?  He doesn’t want to bring down the mood of Sam and Eileen in his post breakup depression funk?  Good grief.

The bar is cool and right up Dean’s alley, and right out of the gate we get the promo scene with the waitress that we were all wigging out about.  And my hunch was right, Dean just kinda rolls right by, which man, Dean from season 1?  Hell no.  She’s just his type, clearly into him, and yet, Dean’s world literally falls away when he sees Lee Webb singing onstage.

You can’t really do justice to the way with words to the way that Dean looks when he sees Lee and realizes who he is, Jensen and Christian have so much NUANCE in their scenes together, and the history behind them is palpable, even though we don’t know the extent of it.  And Lee is just the same way, looking Dean up and down and “Dean Winchester,” just to hammer home that something is going on here and we should not ignore it.

“You got time?”  “Always.”  Bruh. There are so many details that we can pick up on about them, their relationship, who they were to each other.  Even Dean’s little “you sound good,” come on guys, what the fuck?

That’s another thing: why don’t we know the history?  Why do they shy away from talking about why they split apart?  Dean is clearly upset when Lee mentions Arizona, what happened?  Why did John and Dean never mention Lee? And obviously Lee knows John, hell he seems more sorry than Dean does that John’s dead, but then again, the Dean that Lee remembers idolized John, so that’s definitely a big change for Lee, because Dean clearly doesn’t idolize John anymore.

I just want to hear about everything that’s mentioned in the episode in more detail: Lee and Dean went hunting together, presumably alone, since John caught them drunk on a hunt.  What went on?  I think we know. How often did they hunt together? How long had they known each other? D E T A I L S please Jeremy Adams!!!

“I don’t think I have seen you since Sammy was in college.”

“Right.”

“I mean, hell, I thought you were-”

“Dead?”

Also Lee does this little teasing laugh and everything about them is soft and my chest hurts.

“I mean, that’s usually how this ends, isn’t it?”

And what I want to talk about here is Lee’s reaction, because he doesn’t shrug and do the usual “so it goes” that so many hunters do, he looks at Dean, like really looks at him, he sighs and says a simple “yeah” with this look that’s so soft and so full of something and Dean looks away (doing his eye motion thing he does with Cas) and Lee breaks contact too and looks down and smiles and oh my god.  I told yall this was going to be rambly but I didn’t draw breath while typing that lmao.

I wanna know about the Arizona thing, I want to know why it made Dean uncomfortable when Lee mentioned it, and I want to know why it’s glossed over.  These two were like best friends, you can tell, and for them to just stop talking?  Hm.

They swap tales, talking about the triplets that they “split em up fair and square” even though that’s not possible and they had an orgy obviously.  Dean has this look with the waitress again and you can tell he appreciates it but like?  That’s the end of it?  In the next scene she’s gone and it’s just Lee and Dean talking, Dean making Lee laugh and enjoying it, it’s just so...romantic?

And even though, the second that Lee doesn’t recognize someone he should puts all of us, as the audience on alert, it doesn’t even cross Dean’s mind that Lee is doing something wrong, it’s not even on his radar.

“There’s nothing you can’t have, man.”

“Then who’s gonna kill the bad guys?”

“Somebody else.”

And Dean looks away, because it’s clear what Lee is asking.  He’s asking for Dean to stay.

When Lee starts up the band, I was just struck by how much they look at each other, getting in each other’s space, Lee leaning forward, Dean watching him walk away.  Guys.  This happened in front of our faces on screen.

“Can’t sit around lip syncing ‘Eye of the Tiger’ when no one’s watching.”

This is a callback to the ghost sickness episode, but also an intimate moment that no one gets to see of Dean.  Sam catches him in the act of it on that episode, so how does Lee know he does this?

And then, let’s get to the singing.  Dean’s always postured to Sam that he can’t sing (which we all know Jensen has the voice of an angel) and the buildup to him actually singing was so beautiful, because Lee knows he can, he teases him with the “Eye of the Tiger” thing, winks at him, keeps trying to pull him onstage, stands there and bites his lip when Dean’s singing.  I mean.  I’m at a loss to what else you would think about them, it’s just plain as day: they were together.

The whole thing is just so playful, and we never see playful like this from Dean.  It’s flirty and funny and sweet and just such a nice change of pace, so good for Dean to be with someone that clearly wants to be with him, who he has history with (amidst the divorce he’s currently in w Cas).  Even when they sing together they can’t keep their eyes off of each other and the whole thing is honestly too much it’s so fanfic-y and I can’t handle it.

And then, the big thing, Lee slaps Dean’s ass in the middle of the song, and Dean doesn’t blush, he doesn’t stand up straighter like that’s weird or wrong, he grins this huge amazing beautiful grin and says “you son of a bitch.” What else are we looking for here?  He’s bi.  He’s bi.  With the lighting behind him and the bar named Swayze’s and Lee staring holes through him, we finally saw onscreen, canonical proof that he’s bi.  Sure, it’s been hella subtextual before, but this is text, and no one can ignore it.

At the end of the song, one of Lee’s hands is gripping Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s arm is around Lee’s waist??????????  Help??????

They round it all out with kicking some gross guys out of Lee’s bar, and Lee stares at Dean and says “still got it.” I mean....I’m running out of ways to say the same thing over and over.

“Best friend’s don’t just leave without saying goodbye.”

“They do if they deserve it.”

Hmmmmmmmm, something to think about with these lines.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on okay, but this is not you.”

Compare that with:

“Cas, this isn’t you, this isn’t you.”

Cool.  Fine.  I want to die.

Lee became the monster because he thought there was no point in being a good person anymore.  You can’t stave them off so you might as well “have a little fun.”  Which I think is interesting because of how apathetic and hopeless Dean’s been since Chuck, since Jack, since Mary, since Rowena, but when it comes down to it, he’s always going to care, which is why we love him.

But what I really want to talk about is the way Dean’s face twists when Lee touches him, he turns his head away, his face contorts, like he wanted Lee to touch him, but not like this.  We’ve seen Dean’s heart break so much in this show, he’s lost so much and so many, but this is something so different.  It’s not only betrayal, or a realization that he has to kill Lee, it’s the loss of what he had with Lee, what he felt for him.  It hurts to watch as an audience member, and I can’t imagine how it is for Dean.

Dean’s voice also breaks when he tries to call Lee back, in case you still had any tears left to cry.

The gunfight is intense, but not nearly as intense as what’s coming.

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t Dean?  I am you.  I’m just you that woke up and saw that the world was broken.”

“Then you fix it.  You don’t walk away, you fight for it!”

No double meanings in this episode are there?  Perhaps this is a little bit of what happened between them all those years ago bubbling to the surface?

And then we get one of the best fight scenes in the show, and you know when Dean gets that cue stick, that it’s game over for Lee, but what I wasn’t expecting is the sheer heartbreak on Dean’s face.  They both look down at the wound, like they’re both surprised, and Lee holds Dean, he fucking holds him, and this fucking piano music plays when Lee says “okay” and drops to the floor, and Dean leans against the pool table because fuck, how much more can he lose?

And because not even THAT is enough, ten seconds of divorced Destiel distress?  Where Dean clearly wants to talk to Cas but Cas is still giving him the cold shoulder and it breaks Dean’s heart but he doesn’t know how to fix it????

There’s just so much to unpack here, the show is teaching us new things about Sam and Dean and Cas all the time, and yet I feel like I really know Dean know, I;ve seen a little bit of him that I had never seen before, and I’m just grateful. I’m grateful for Dean, grateful for these writers, grateful for his growth.  I’m grateful for the angst and the happiness he had with Lee, however fleeting, and I’m grateful that I get to leave this episode with the fact that Dean is oncreen bi.  Sure, it can be up to interpretation, he didn’t come out and say it, but that’s because he didn’t have to.  Lee knew, so we knew, and that was all that mattered.

This silly, weird show is important to me for so many reasons, (clearly, since I talk about it all the damn time), but Dean especially is so important to me, I see so much of myself in him, and him being allowed to be him, without some grand coming out scene is even better than I could have ever hoped for.  So thank you, Jeremy Adams, for giving us bi Dean, and one of my absolute all time favorite episodes in the show.

[invisibleinorange]

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: T Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin Summary:  Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes". (#I’mHereToKillYouAllWithFeels)

Furious didn’t begin to cover it. Penelope was practically shaking with rage as she made her way into the cool of night.   It was almost nice to feel something other than heartbreak though.

She couldn’t quite put a finger on who she was mad at. It was more a general anger that had been building up for some time.  The proposal had just been a triggered that sent it bubbling up.

She’d had to leave her home or she knew she would have done far worse than raise her voice or walk away from a proposal.  She had spent years dreading the moment she came of age to become part of society.

She’d been a particularly normal child and she knew that once upon a time her mother had treated her much the same she treated her other children.  Her sisters had always been naturally thin, perfectly average but she had always been softer.  Her mother had assumed she’d outgrow the baby fat but it never happened and the older she became, the more her mother saw fit to constantly insult her.

It was a nearly daily battle attack of her appearance and when it wasn’t that, it was something else.  At some point, she’d stopped thinking she’d ever amount to much of anything.  She never quite felt enough. Her mother had ensured as much. When her mother all but deemed her ineligible, she believed it to be true.

That was why she became skilled into camouflaging into walls.  If people didn’t notice her, they couldn’t hurt her.  Only part of her plan had worked.  The problem was that she did care.  She wanted to be the person who got asked to dance. She wanted someone to deliver her flowers. She wanted to be enough for someone.

She had been.

Her mind couldn’t quite believe the words that Colin had written her though. The last words he would ever write her.  There wouldn’t be any romance from Mister Bridgerton.

The fact that Benedict thought that he could just come, propose to her and everything was going to turn out okay was preposterous.

Sure, she knew he was a good guy. That wasn’t her problem though.

She’d spent half her life praying that one day she’d wake up and just be part of the Bridgerton family instead of her own.  She couldn’t do this though; She refused to accept a proposal borne of grief or sympathy.

She wouldn’t curse someone to the misfortunate of being stuck with her, especially when she knew that they weren’t in love with her nor she them.  Her mother would have found it foolhardy to even care about such things but for Penelope Featherington there was nothing more important.

Penelope wasn’t sure that anyone actually loved her. Even Colin had called her a friend.  She project her own feelings into his words a million times over but they didn’t make them his. She wouldn’t have believed them even if he uttered them to her.

That didn’t change the fact that Colin Bridgerton was the only man that she’d ever loved and in the depths of her heart, she wasn’t sure there was room for anyone else.

Colin had been there since he was a boy and even he would never be an old man, he’d be there in hers until her time came.

Perhaps that was why her feet carried her through the streets almost absently until she found herself pushing past a gate and into a darkened graveyard with an adjacent church.  It was almost eerie with the silence.

She made her path through the graves, not even stopping in her own family tomb where she knew her own father laid.  Instead she moved, not settling until she saw the Bridgerton name.  Without a body, Colin would never be placed there amongst his family members.

--

A gloved hand touched her back from behind and it was enough to startle her, made her turn in panic.  As childish as it was, she half expected to see a ghost. Instead she saw something far scarier: Violet Bridgerton.

The last time she’d seen the matriarch of the family, she’d been crumbling but the woman before her seemed back to her usual strength, though clearly sad.

“I apologize for startling you,” Violet said before her eyes seemed to access the situation and concern spread across her features.  “It’s not safe for a Lady such as yourself to be wandering after dark alone, improperly covered for the night.  You’ll freeze, My Dear.  What are you doing out here?”

“I – was,” Penelope stammered, mildly afraid and unable to really formulate an excuse in her head.  A part of her wondered just how much Violet knew of everything. She wasn’t about to ask.  Instead she recovered, nodded politely and said, “You’re unaccompanied yourself, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Violet, Dear,” she told her with a sad laugh, urging the informality. “I suppose that’s fair. I always sneak out when the children are distracted or asleep, especially when I wish to visit with their father.  I wasn’t aware he already had an audience tonight. Has he been much help?”

Penelope felt relief wash over her in a way.  She felt she had been let in on some really important adult secret.  She couldn’t help but wonder if any of Violet’s children knew about their mother’s habit.  There was something weirdly comforting in knowing that the woman still sought out her husband even though he’d been dead for so long.

Violet’s devotion to her husband was so endearing that Penelope couldn’t help but feel safe to speak openly.

“Sadly no,” Penelope told her.  “Though, I suppose the fact that you’re here could be an answer in itself. I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your time.”

Was this a sign?  Had Colin directed his mother here from Heaven to show her that even if he was gone it was okay to love him forever?

“It’s not an intrusion.  I’d be remiss to not side with you and say that this meeting was kismet,” the elder Bridgerton told her.  “Please unburden yourself on me.  My children think I’m so delicate that they’ve taken to keeping everything from me, forcing my convalesce instead of letting me attend to them and they’re the ones who need their mother most right now.”

Never in her life had she wanted Violet Bridgerton to be her mother more.

“Funny,” she started with a light smile. “They’re treating me much the same. Less mothering, more thinking I need to be … taken care of.”

“Do you not wish to be?” Violet asked, almost disregarding that there could possibly be more questions to ask before that for context. There was something in the look in her eyes that told Penelope that somehow the older woman knew far more than she was saying though.

“Not like this,” Penelope told her honestly.

“I take my role as mother very seriously. I’ve always known my children and the things that make them who they are.  I’ve known that you fancied my son for far longer than probably even you are aware. I’m also aware that of his many gifts, being quick on the uptake isn’t one of them,” Violet started in, leaving Penelope to awkwardly shift on her feet.  “Colin is – was – remarkable and I have no doubt he could have made you very happy but as his mother, I have to urge you to not miss out on life mourning him. Graveyards are lonely places to spend one’s time sneaking away to.”

“It’s not-“ Penelope started, wanting to protest a little and perhaps explain.

“No, you listen to me. When my Edmund died, the world ceased spinning on its axis. It took a considerable amount of time to find my footing again.  I had to learn to navigate life again. My children are who restored me. They healed me and every day I strive to heal them.  Grief doesn’t fade but you learn to live without those who leave you. My children are the living, breathing proof of a great love that exists only in my heart these days. They give my life meaning as they grow and begin their own lives. You must find what gives your life meaning. You do not have to let Colin go from your heart to leave room for others to enter it.”

“I don’t think anyone is exactly fighting for room in my heart,” Penelope finally managed to say. She still wasn’t completely sure how much her older companion knew. Would she be speaking to her in such a manner if she did.   “I don’t think I’m meant for a great love like yours. Not now.”

“Honestly Penelope Featherington!” Violet said with a motherly tick.  “You’re a delight. I’ve known you since the day your mother birthed you.  I won’t hear this because it’s simply not true. You were always destined for greatness. You’re just a caterpillar who hasn’t quite transformed into a butterfly yet.  Someone was always bound to see you for who you are.  I would have loved to have you as a daughter but even if you were never meant to be a Bridgerton, we’ll always be there to remind you of your worth. ”

[babineni]

Angst 19 - "Please don't leave."

Thank you for this 💖 sorry it took me this long to post it mainly bc I accidentally saved it as a draft and then I didn’t check it so it’s been there for two weeks whoops

but anyway have some immediately post-PoE 1 Aloth x Watcher stuff, featuring Gaura first experiencing abandonment issues

below a cut bc it got long

Gaura pulled her knees closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around them a little tighter. She wasn't sure what she hoped this would accomplish. Her body forming the same, nearly suffocating knot that took the space where her heart was meant to be, hardly could have eased her sorrows. She hid her face behind her legs and allowed the tears to come but she didn't grant herself the same freedom when it came to the sounds trying to escape her. Not a single cry left her mouth. The Watcher was scared that if she voiced her anguish, she would never stop weeping.

She knew that her friends would leave her, once their quest against the Leaden Key was done. And yet, the Watcher was still caught off guard by some of the departures.

She was ready when Sagani said goodbye, in fact, she was relieved and happy for her, and wished her a speedy return to her family. She was ready when Kana said goodbye. She knew his mission wouldn't be over until he presented his findings after all. They still shed a few tears, but not many, and none of them were bitter or sorrowful. And Durance... well, if there was someone Gaura was happy to see go, it was him.

But then Pallegina left to report to the ducs, even though she knew the repercussions she would have to endure. Gaura offered a place to stay, a place where she would be valued, cared for and safe, knowing exactly how she would respond. But she couldn't help it, she couldn't stop hoping the paladin would reconsider and stay.

Then Hiravias left as one would expect of a follower of Wael's. Still, Gaura figured that even he needed a place he could return to, a place where he could keep the secrets he uncovered, a place he could call home. She was sad to realize she was wrong.

Then Grieving Mother left. Even though the Watcher couldn't bear children herself, she hoped the midwife would stay for all the women living in and around Caed Nua. She hoped that their connection built upon seeing and knowing one another would be enough. But it wasn't.

And then Edér left and...

And...

And the next thing Gaura knew was, that she was sitting by the hearth in Brighthollow's kitchen, trying to cry as quietly as it was possible.

'There you are. I've been looking all over for you,' Aloth's voice prompted the Watcher to look up and hastily dry her eyes. The wizard stopped in his tracks when he saw the miserable state she was in. For a moment, he awkwardly looked back at the doorway he just passed through but once the moment passed he continued walking towards her. He approached her almost perfectly silently, catiously, burying his own unease under the comforting presence of a friend.

'I just needed some time alone,' Gaura broke the silence. 'I uhh... The lady of Caed Nua shouldn't be seen like a mess. People look to me for guidance and... I'm being a sentimental fool.'

'Come now, you're hardly being fair towards yourself,' Aloth sat down beside Gaura, close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. He shuffled somewhat awkwardly, but he didn't move away from her, nor did he give any other indication of being flustered. For a moment, the Watcher felt the urge to wrap her arms around him and weep on his shoulder, but the moment passed and she stayed motionless.

Gaura let out a sigh and turned her attention to the hearth on her other side. The embers still had a glow, fainter than her own but enough to inspire some reflection.

'No, I have grown... weak here. Caed Nua has made me vulnerable,' she scolded herself. 'I think back to the person I was before I left the Valleys and... I'm not the same.'

'It is only natural,' Aloth answered. 'You have been through a lot. And I imagine, the Watcher abilities alone could change one drastically. But you have carried your burdens with grace and bravery,' he smiled at her shyly, 'and I... I'm glad I was around to see it.' He hesitantly reached for the Watcher's hand, the same way she reached for his months before in the Brackenbury Sanitarium. His touch was somewhat lighter but it carried the same warmth, putting a weak smile on Gaura's face.

'Well... I hope you still see that grace and bravery now,' she chuckled ruefully, as she turned back to the wizard.

'I do.'

Gaura's smile grew a little wider. But her heart still felt heavy.

'I still wish I could feel like I used to. Being able to say goodbye used to feel like... a gift of sorts,' she explained. 'Being able to let go of an attachment free of loss... or grief... was something I felt grateful for. I never mourned for things that were beautiful but... momentary. And in the Valleys everything was beautiful but nothing truly lasted. But now...' The Watcher sighed and let her head hang. 'Like I said... I'm being a sentimental fool.'

Aloth's grip on her hand tightened slightly. Gaura felt him caress a knuckle with his thumb. But the uneasy way he shifted his weight next to her made her wonder if this act of comfort was for her or for him.

'I'm going to miss them too... and I think... I think I understand,' he said. 'Being a spy hardly offers a life full of long friendships. It always felt more appropriate to keep my distance and to cherish moments for what they were without letting it become... more,' he sighed. 'If I were to follow your line of logic, then Caed Nua made me weak too. In no small part, thanks to you. I don't think you need me to explain why this happened to the both of us.'

The Watcher didn't reply, but she felt the ache in her chest ease slightly at the wizard's words. There was a bittersweet comfort lingering in the air and for the first time, Gaura felt that the silence of Brighthollow, which was now empty save for the two of them, was not all that suffocating as she has been feeling it for the last few days.

'Thank you,' she said, as she dried the last of her tears and straightened up. 'I needed that, truth be told.'

'Anytime,' Aloth smiled. 'Although I admit, it feels a bit strange to echo your own ideas back to you.'

'Perspective is funny that way.'

'Indeed.'

Gaura let out a long sigh, trying to rid herself of the rest of her tensions. She gave Aloth's hand a slight squeeze, then she stood up and stretched her limbs. She inhaled deeply, as if the comfort of the wizard's encouragement was a presence she could physically take with her.

'Alright, I think I'm good,' she said, while she turned to Aloth with a smile. 'You were looking for me for something I presume. I'm ready to listen.'

Aloth's smile, however, faltered at her offer. A shade of red tinted his face - one of shame and guilt. He avoided her gaze as he spoke.

'It's... it's not important. It can wait until tomorrow.'

Gaura's heart sank. He didn't need to say anything else. She felt the suffocation of the silence between them grow more oppressive, the longer she was processing the implication hiding behind his hesitant words. She should've guessed the moment he entered that kitchen. She visited him in his room just a few days earlier. She saw the maps, the list of names, the blueprint of a scepter called "Keybreaker". She saw everything she needed to see, but Aloth didn't say anything then, and once they were out of her sight, they were out of her mind.

'When are you going to go?' The Watcher's voice was shakier than she would've liked.

Aloth turned back to her, his gaze full of unsaid apologies.

'I was planning on leaving in two days. But if it makes things easier-'

'It doesn't,' Gaura interrupted him.

The wizard merely nodded as a response and looked down at his hands lying in his lap. The same hands that just a few moments ago filled the Watcher with the comfort of knowing she wasn't alone. He shifted his weight and decided have those hands grab his seat instead so tightly, his knuckles turned white from the effort.

Gaura approached him, fighting the burning sensation overtaking her eyes again. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes, trying to hold on to whatever was left of her dignity. But a moment later, she gave up: she let a quiet curse slip through her lips as she knelt down and let her head drop against Aloth's knees. She shielded her face with her arms, ignoring the wizard tensing up in shock at her touch.

'Please don't leave,' she whispered.

'I... I must,' an awkward answer came from above, prompting Gaura to look up.

'Let me just beg you in peace. Alright?'

Aloth's expression softened slightly. His gaze was still apologetic but his face reflected sincerity rather than discomfort.

'Alright.'

The Watcher hid her face again. 'Please don't leave,' she repeated. 'Please don't leave. Please don't leave.' Her plea to him turned into a mantra for herself. Her eyelids grew heavy as she continued and her tears stopped falling. She might've heard a spell being cast and she might have felt a hesitant stroke against her scalp right before unconsciousness turned her numb to the world around her, but she couldn't be sure.

[atinytokki]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Chapter 8: The Black Crow

A blurry light illuminated the darkness from the central table, accompanied by the blurry sounds of two separated groups catching each other up on the events of the past months.

The five had decided to spend the night in their new lodgings, a large but comfortable space that could sleep all seven officers if it needed to, and Mingi was slowly draining his bottle while he sat with the others to deliberate their course of action.

“....and so the mermaids sped us here, to Geobugi, where thankfully we caught you in time,” San finished explaining. “Although, I suppose the destination is the same. Haemin territory.”

Hums of acknowledgement echoed around the table before Yunho spoke up. “We ourselves only recently arrived, but I think it’s relevant to let you know the situation here. Pirates are united again, and they want to join the war. Our rescue mission looks to them like an opportunity to justify their involvement.”

San and Jongho glanced at each other but didn’t rush to give their opinions. After a moment, Seonghwa’s quiet voice filled the space.

“Hongjoong told us to stay away from all this. He told Wooyoung and Yeosang to stay away. Do we really think they’ll want to be rescued from a conflict they’ve been dragged into only to turn around and start the fight again?”

“I understand that, hyung, I do,” San broke in, a cloud drawn over his face as he spoke urgently. “But I’ve been running away all this time and I’m so, so sick of it. I know you came out here in your princely attire to join the battle and I respect that you may have changed your mind, but you haven’t seen the enemy like I have.”

Jongho nodded. “I wish to fight as well. Haemin won’t stop taking innocent lives once we rescue Yeosang and Wooyoung from the Crow.”

Yunho sighed and took a swig of his own bottle before turning to Mingi. “Well, Quartermaster, what do you think?”

Mingi startled. What did he think? 

He thought all of this felt wrong. He could hear the familiar tune of their crew happily dancing and singing a drinking song in the next lodging house over, and he could feel the ocean breeze gently caressing his face, and he could sense the eyes of his friends on him, looking to him for his answer, but he was drunk and dizzy and wanted more than anything to just turn back time.

Whether to stay safely tucked away or whether to risk their lives and fight didn’t seem like his decision to make.

“I say we wait to see what Yeosang and Wooyoung have to say about it,” he settled on, downing his drink and tossing the bottle in the bin. “There’s no use trying to make up our minds now.”

A knock sounded at the door before anyone could debate him.

“Medical visit!” Maddox’s voice sounded from the wooden porch, and when the rest looked to him, Mingi stood and opened it for the fellow quartermaster.

Namji stood there next to him, arms full of supplies and hair pulled back by a whale bone shard, and glanced around the room until she spied Jongho sitting on one of the sofas off to the side, his injured leg propped up on the arm.

“Two have come, two more remain to be saved?” She asked as she entered the room and set down her things.

Seonghwa opened his mouth to correct her but, faltering, settled on answering “Yes.”

“Excuse me, but I hardly think this is necessary,” San butted in, crossing his arms and taking up residence next to Jongho on the sofa. “I’ve already looked at his wound and treated it.”

The woman blinked and suddenly went beet red. “Choi San?” She asked hesitantly, reaching out a hand to be shaken when he confirmed. “I remember you from your past visits. I doubt you remember me though, you were in quite a hurry.”

He squinted at her until the memory resurfaced. “The apothecary shop?”

“Yes!” Namji beamed and nodded, going about removing Jongho’s bandage while she explained. “I still work there but I’m the surgeon for the Stardust now— or at least I will be when we finally set sail as a crew.”

“Setting sail as a crew?” Mingi questioned Maddox, eyebrow raised and a smile playing on his face. “Without Eden?”

“Oh, no, we’ll pick him up from the Mystic’s Island, next order of business.”

“And if he doesn’t want to come?” Yunho scoffed. He couldn’t imagine Eden rejoining the action after the devastating injury he had sustained.

“He will,” Maddox assured them. “By now if he’s with her, he knows the situation. You told me yourself a few nights ago how much of the war she had foreseen. The time for waiting around has come and gone. And the men will be happy to have their captain among them again.”

Mingi’s shoulders fell in defeat and he accidentally made eye contact with Seonghwa.

It was too bad they didn’t have that option themselves.

San and Namji were still arguing, pleasantries out of the way.

“But if it’s infected and the blood rushes to his head then—”

“But see, there is no open wound, so he’s in no danger of that.”

“Will one of you just get me walking again?” Jongho interjected with a tired grumble. 

It took some effort for both surgeons to agree on a course of action and work together, and as they settled down and treated their patient, Mingi wandered to the balcony and gazed out at the lights of Geobugi.

Even the pirate islands close by to the east were somewhat visible, just as lively in the night as in the day. Dots of light decorated the shoreline, their golden rays bouncing off the moving water, making them appear to be floating on a bed of stars.

In the centre of the town, a tree stood tall. The leaves were few and far between but light decorated its branches, so full of candles that from far away it looked like it was on fire.

“What is that?” He muttered to himself, not expecting an answer and startling when Maddox came up behind him and answered solemnly.

“Geobugi has no graveyard. That tree is the next closest thing. Although I have to say, I haven’t known it to be so illuminated with funeral candles since Eden’s presumed death.”

While Mingi pondered the fact that it was apparently a funeral ritual for Hongjoong, Seonghwa spoke up from his own quiet musings.

“Eden had a funeral? We didn’t see this tree when we came here to pick up our crew. Hongjoong never mentioned it.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would’ve,” Maddox sighed, and Mingi understood why. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to see what was going on down there, even as the sound of singing drifted up enticingly from the tree gathering to their lodgings.

He followed Maddox down the suspended bridges to the town centre anyway, with Seonghwa, Yunho, and San in tow. Namji remained with Jongho to set him up with all the medicines he’d need for the next few days while the others slipped away.

Just as he’d suspected, pirates surrounded the tree with candles in their hands and music on their lips. They were singing, but it was more a dirge than a shanty, murmurs occasionally interrupting the tune as they left their lights in the tree and returned to their ships.

Mingi noticed none of their own crew was there to honour the dead, and he wasn’t surprised.

“It’s upsetting to see all this... grief. I’m not accustomed to the sight of it from older pirates,” he admitted, voice choked up slightly, though he told himself it was from the smoke.

“Grief is a sign of love,” Maddox finally answered, gazing at the spectacle himself with the twinkling sparks reflecting off of the moisture in his own eyes. “And love amongst a crew is a strength, not a weakness. The many outcasts here know that bond well, we’re all outcasts together.”

Even though most of the pirates here didn’t even know Hongjoong. And if they did, it was as a rival, not a captain.

“Goodbye, Pirate King,” came a whisper from beside them, and Mingi jumped again before turning to find the source. A woman with her hair newly bleached and chopped short stood next to their small group, nursing a candle of her own and surveying the stars. “I’m sorry for slapping you that time, and you’re forgiven for stealing half my weapons supply.”

Mingi couldn’t help but chuckle. He recognised her, although he couldn’t remember where from.

“Aewol of the Lioness?” Yunho supplied, and she turned to him and nodded, a couple of intricate plaits bouncing in her hair as she did. “If anything, I expected you fellow pirates to resent him,” he admitted, and it was exactly the thought on Mingi’s mind.

“Well, his criminal activity was a bother sometimes but actually worked in our favour,” Aewol explained. “And I don’t just mean that because he kept the Navy occupied with their obsession with the ATEEZ, he really inspired others to keep this legacy going. We have a rebuilt pirate haven after all, and more islands joining the pact than ever before.”

“Hear, hear!” Another pirate cheered before rounding the tree and approaching. This man was tall and looked ten or fifteen years older than them. “There was a time we put up the white flag when we saw the ATEEZ on the horizon.”

“Really?” Aewol snorted out a laugh.

“Really! I’m older than you new pirates, my crew was tired, but we had supplies cordoned off just in case— a tax to the Pirate King, the crew called it— but he sailed right by, never stole it.”

Seonghwa’s brows were drawn together, and he couldn’t help but grit out bitterly, “He was our captain. You never even met him, how can you mourn him?”

Another young pirate with his hair pulled back into a ponytail spoke up from the other side of the tree, guarding his flame as he walked over to join them.

“Because he was more than your captain,” he tried to explain. “We never met him, but he represented us all in a sense.”

Mingi surveyed the faces of strangers around him and couldn’t help but sigh. “I’m not sure how he’d feel if he was aware that people thought of him that way.”

“Well, you knew him,” the younger pirate pointed out with a shrug before setting his candle on one of the lower branches. “Tell us about the Pirate King.”

Suddenly all attention was on Mingi and he didn’t know what to do.

From the bold flags and bright candles to the tears in their eyes, he could tell these pirates didn’t want to know about Hongjoong as a person, his flaws and his humanity, only his legendary acts and larger-than-life personality traits.

They wanted to hear a thrilling tale in line with their pre-existing notion of him.

It was that daring boldness that made piracy appealing, Mingi realised, not the quiet days of fair weather he cherished with his captain. It was heroes becoming myths that would go down in history, and they might as well have been anonymous.

But Mingi didn’t want to think of Hongjoong that way, so he stood there gaping like a fish while Seonghwa began putting them straight.

“Well, firstly... his name was Hongjoong,” he struggled through his sentences, trying to find a way to do the story justice. “And he... h-he was just a boy from Panhang at first. Like anyone else.”

“We grew up together,” Mingi continued. “Although I did most of the growing.”

Chuckles sounded from the growing crowd and Mingi swallowed his nerves. Hongjoong would have smacked him upside the head for that joke if he were there.

“After his parents drowned and again after Eden was presumed dead, he seemed to know what he wanted. I don’t think he faltered in that for a long time.”

That was just about all Mingi was willing to divulge. It was the origin of their journey as a crew after all, and it brought them up to the present, but everyone was still staring at him as if waiting for something really exciting.

“There are things he went through— things we went through— that I don’t think the world ought to know,” he finally sighed, deciding to let them make their own inferences. “But some of the stories you’ve heard are true.”

“Including the tale of the kraken?” One man shouted from the back.

“Yes, it was Wooyoung’s shot that finished it,” Yunho filled in, only to be overwhelmed by more questions.

“And the fire tornado on the deserted island?” A woman asked closer to Mingi.

“Right, we were all there,” he confirmed. “I jumped into the inferno myself...”

And just like that, all those harebrained escapes and knick of time rescues became epic tales to be circulated around the islands until they no longer bore any resemblance to the truth.

Mingi knew it was bound to happen, but he returned to the lodging house as soon as he could anyway. 

The recognition was good in measure, but something about listening to Hongjoong be discussed in the past tense was grating on his ears.

It had been the final straw when an old sailor announced, “May a westerly breeze blow his spirit over the sea to wait for us at rest in the new world.”

But he knew it didn’t matter what all those pirates thought of him, or even of the ATEEZ. 

Maddox was right about one thing for certain— the bond amongst a crew.

“You think he can see all those lights, wherever he is?” Mingi whispered softly in Jongho’s direction as he slumped on the sofa next to him, nursing his dizzy head and holding the younger boy as tightly as he could while minding his injury.

“I don’t know,” Jongho tutted, but he didn’t pull away from the embrace. “He didn’t bring his spyglass with him.”

...

“Nothing but blue for miles and miles,” Hongjoong muttered as he stretched his hand out the porthole window again, letting the spray of the waves meet his skin. “And we’re definitely headed south.”

The lack of ice flecking the ocean was already a good sign they had made considerable progress.

“Is the water warmer?” Yeosang asked as he stood and made his way over, wiping the sweat from his face. He was exercising as often as he could, determined to be physically fit for the task should something go wrong during their escape.

For a while he had been hiding muscle under that timid form, and his head was full of combat knowledge, collected quietly until the time came to strike. That moment was approaching with every mile closer to Haemin they travelled.

Hongjoong nodded and drew his arm back in, sinking to the floor impatiently. 

“It shouldn’t be long then, right?” Wooyoung asked, mouth full of the midday meal as he cringed away from the concerned steward who was warning him to slow down.

“I doubt we’re even halfway,” Hongjoong huffed. “The distance between the colonies and even Haemin’s outlying islands is vast.”

Which meant they were sailing half a world away from everything they ever knew and everyone they ever loved.

“Why is it always the three of us?” Wooyoung groaned as he finally passed off his bowl and stretched out on the floor.

The steward rolled his eyes and saw himself out without another word.

Hongjoong stretched out next to Wooyoung on the floor and gave him a pinch to the arm for taking up his space. “We just can’t stay away from each other, I suppose.” It was one constant they were all grateful for.

“Oh, admit it!” Wooyoung laughed gleefully as Yeosang lay down on his other side. “Yeosang and I are your favourite children.”

Hongjoong spluttered but wasn’t given a chance to retort.

“Who cares about his father? That’s you now,” Wooyoung jabbed, and giggles broke out between the three of them.

“That still makes for one dysfunctional family,” Yeosang pointed out, hiding his laugh behind a hand and shoving Wooyoung lightly.

He always knew how to raise their spirits.

“I do hope the rest are safe, especially Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said under his breath when the moment had passed.

Wooyoung and Yeosang glanced at each other. 

“Why Seonghwa? He was fine when I saw him last,” Yeosang responded immediately, heart beginning to pound when he didn’t receive an answer for a moment. What did Hongjoong know that he didn’t?

“Haemin is trying to kill him.”

Oh, just that.

But Seonghwa was likely safe with others, Yeosang knew, so he willed his heartbeat to slow down to a healthy speed and tried to rationalise for Hongjoong’s sake.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered. “They tried once in Namhae, with the explosion that ironically nearly killed you. You should’ve seen the amount of security at the palace.”

“But now he’s made himself an easy target,” Hongjoong sighed. “He was here on the Black Crow, planning to fight with the Navy. I have no idea why or where he is now, but I read the intelligence myself. He’s in danger yet again.”

It was another one of those constants, especially now that the older pirate had a crown and a royal title.

But it was of no use that they knew of this supposed assassination plot that Seonghwa himself didn’t.

A familiar knock sounded softly from the door and Byun and Park entered with news.

“Admiral Kim is paying you a visit within the hour,” Byun directed his words at Hongjoong, accompanied with a grimace. “I don’t know why it took him this long, but we had better prepare.”

Yeosang nodded and helped Wooyoung to his feet. They had discussed in advance what to do when this inevitably happened. They couldn’t hide away in the hold forever, at least not in the same room as Kim’s favourite prisoner.

As Lieutenant Park— the officer who was supposed to be on guard— refastened the chains around Hongjoong’s hands, Yeosang and Wooyoung followed Byun out through the cramped deck hallway to the infirmary.

The Black Crow was massive to the extent that a crew member on one deck of the ship would likely never come into contact with a crew member on another. It was certainly capable of hiding two young pirates so long as they disguised as soldiers.

But Yeosang and Wooyoung wanted more than a place to hide, they wanted to be in on the action and that required something more.

“Hang on,” Byun suddenly whispered, stopping in his tracks and causing a small collision behind him.

“What is it?” Wooyoung hissed, already half concealed behind the nearest barrel in case someone was approaching.

“A longboat is missing,” came the reply, barely louder than a breath, no more than a passing thought.

“I didn’t expect to have deserters this early on in the war,” Byun explained as they walked past the empty space where the boat should be and hurried into the infirmary. “Strange that the Admiral hasn’t mentioned anything about it.”

But then, he was clearly busy with other things.

Surgeon Oh rushed them inside and took out a pair of nondescript navy uniforms from the back of one of his cabinets, handing them off to the stowaways.

“This one stinks,” Wooyoung complained, holding his nose and watching with disgust as Yeosang immediately began to change into his own.

“We didn’t exactly have time to order new ones made,” Oh countered with an exasperated sigh. “They’re borrowed from the crew.”

Yeosang buttoned the jacket up to the neck and nodded Wooyoung on.

As reluctant as they were, they were soldiers of necessity. It was the best plan they had.

“Here are the bandages,” Oh continued, carefully applying a few strategic coverings to their faces.

Yeosang’s birthmark was painstakingly obscured this time to avoid a similar incident to the one at the Namhae prison, and hats were shoved on to hide their colourful hair from view.

“If anyone asks, you’re greenies who each received a face full of powder burn in the battle and are lucky to be alive,” Byun supplied as he opened the door for them, knowing it was a common enough occurrence to be believable.

“Lieutenant? Accompany me to the bilge deck,” a call carried across the working crowd and halted them before they could.

It was the Admiral, finally ready to pay his visit, and his voice made Yeosang clench his fist in livid silence. 

“...after you’re finished with those patients. You too, surgeon,” Kim added when he noticed them.

Wooyoung and Yeosang both fixed their eyes on the deck respectfully, faces completely devoid of emotion.

If Yeosang had to speak to the man, he might punch him in the face.

“Of course, sir,” Byun answered swiftly, motioning for Yeosang and Wooyoung to hang back a moment for appearances. It was best if they weren’t seen together with the lieutenant again as low level recruits.

They waited a full thirty seconds after he and the Admiral disappeared into the lower decks before following, pressing against the door to try and hear every word, every movement.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”

It was Admiral Kim’s voice, that snobbish lilt he liked to tease with, and it didn’t sound like Hongjoong was taking the bait.

There was a brief pause before they heard their captain respond, not a direct answer to the question but a response nonetheless.

“Was the battle to your satisfaction?”

Kim barked out a laugh and the sound of clapping followed. “Yes, you performed beautifully. Excellent results. However, I have a problem.”

Another silence stretched on for a few seconds, long enough that Yeosang began to fear punishment for not answering would follow.

“What is it?” Hongjoong sneered when Kim was likely at his breaking point. He liked to have control of the conversation.

Yeosang leaned forward to peek through the door, still open a crack, risking discovery just to be able to lay eyes on the scene.

“The men are far too taken with you and your charms,” Kim was explaining, as if scolding a young child. “In fact, between here and Haemin, I expect you will have completely seduced them and it will be you, not me, who is in charge of this ship.”

Yeosang wondered what would happen if he and Wooyoung attacked the man from behind while the lieutenants secured the door.

They could dispose of him in a moment or two, but would the rest of the ship consider it a mutiny or a liberation?

“We cannot have that, can we?” Kim nearly growled, toeing the prisoner with his boot to elicit a response.

Hongjoong shook his head stiffly, but his expression didn’t change.

“Indeed,” the Admiral sounded satisfied and turned to the officers standing next to him. “Would you say he is in sufficient health for a visit to the main deck, Oh?”

The surgeon’s eyes flickered between Hongjoong and the Admiral before he uttered an emotionless, “Yessir.”

Kim may have suspected Hongjoong of winning over the crew, but he still had no idea that his own officers had been won over as well.

“Then see it done. The men need to be reminded that Lucky is a prisoner, not a captain.”

Yeosang and Wooyoung made all possible haste to reach the main deck before the men dragged Hongjoong up with them, standing just out of the way a few paces off from each other and peeking over shoulders and around cannons to see what they had no power to stop.

To Yeosang’s surprise, Kim simply had the lieutenants chain Hongjoong to the mainmast and walked away.

There were a few soft murmurs around the deck, but no major outcry, even after the Admiral returned to his cabin.

One at a time, the lieutenants returned to the hold, and one at a time, Yeosang and Wooyoung joined them.

“At least we know the disguises work,” Wooyoung tried to cheer Yeosang up, unwrapping his neck and discarding the unused bandage on the floor. “Now we have to figure out how to communicate with Hongjoong in broad daylight.”

After an hour or two of the Admiral remaining in his quarters while Hongjoong worked himself into as comfortable a position as he could outside, it became apparent that the punishment would continue for longer than they thought.

“It’s raining...” Yeosang noted absently as he noticed Hongjoong wipe his eyes against his shoulder and slump to his knees with a tired sigh. He was hugging the mast with his hands chained in front of him, and by now they were likely stiff and sore, not to mention soaked through.

“He’ll be out there all night most likely,” Byun kept his eyes on his boots as he confessed. “If it goes on too long, Oh can lawfully make a recommendation to move him inside... but such an act may look suspicious.”

“It’s a fine line you’re walking,” Wooyoung snapped, and Yeosang had to hold him back from attacking the guilty lieutenants.

“We all knew the risks, including Lucky,” Park came to Byun’s defense. “If you know anything about Kim, this is the lesser of a multitude of evils.”

Yeosang glanced out at the rain streaming down the window.

Perhaps he didn’t know the Admiral as well as he thought.

…

When San stumbled back to the lodgings, he didn’t expect to find anyone awake. 

The night was deep and dark, just a few hours off from the first grey hints of dawn and having spent most of the time getting acquainted with the other pirates on the island after their vigil, he was tired and in need of some sleep before they set sail. 

San still couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Hongjoong’s face, but there was no more chance of stalling so he’d have to bear with it for a while.

So it was to his great surprise that San discovered Seonghwa of all people, lying awake with his crown in his lap, finely crafted jewels catching the light of a single flame quivering atop a candle on the table next to him.

“What does it even mean,” he whispered, glancing up at San. “To be the prince on an island so untouched by royalty?”

There was hurt in his eyes.

San deflated and moved over to his own bed, pulling his boots off while he thought about how to answer. He wasn’t sure he even could.

San had been paddling away from Namhae with the last ounce of strength in his arms before he ever knew Seonghwa had even made contact with the royal family.

He had missed out on so much that seeing the crown gleaming in the boatswain’s hands now was a foreign sight altogether. He had no idea what that reality meant to him, why he couldn’t just leave it behind.

“Hongjoong is the Pirate King here, the crown has no power compared to that,” Seonghwa muttered, setting it on the table next to the candle and trying to settle back comfortably. From a few houses over, wind chimes clinked together gently in the breeze.

“Even if it did, is it something you actually want for yourself— the palace life and everything that goes with it?” San finally asked through the roughness in his throat, fiddling with the edge of his jacket.

“There’s nothing in it for me without the ATEEZ.”

It was reassuring to hear that, and San found himself relaxing before thinking about the future.

“And if the kingdom and these pirate islands can’t peacefully coexist at the end of all this? What then?”

Seonghwa turned to face him and shrugged. “Then I have to give it up. I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself again.”

San bit his shaking bottom lip and crawled into the hammock with Seonghwa, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “At least you have a common goal with your brother, the king. We all want Haemin defeated.”

Seonghwa hummed sleepily, eyes falling shut. He was too tired to argue, even if he wasn’t convinced joining the war was the best option.

San blew out the candle with a quick puff of air and settled in. He breathed Seonghwa in while he held him, and swore under his breath never to take any of their small band for granted again.

He had been adrift for far too long, and when he had Yeosang and Wooyoung safe with him as well, maybe then he’d finally be home.

Sleep came to him speedily, but it was a light sleep.

Something jolted him out of it when it was still dark in their shared room, and San wasn’t sure what it was but he was prepared to ignore it and let his eyes fall shut again until Seonghwa made a noise.

It wasn’t any sort of coherent word, just a mumble that sounded almost like a whimper, so San opened his eyes and turned his head.

An intruder clothed from head to toe in black was crawling in through the window with a sword drawn and pointed toward them.

San jerked up and reached for his gun, suddenly remembering it was still next to his own bed but being cut off by the attacker before he could reach it.

He threw a punch, but the stranger dodged it, and as he stumbled over air his opponent made for Seonghwa, raising the blade to end him in a single stroke.

Thankfully, Seonghwa rolled out of the way and found his own gun, trying to load it in the dark with shaking hands and yelling for help, hoping someone would wake up and come to their aid.

If he wasn’t imagining it all, it seemed like this assassin was here to kill him.

In an instant, Jongho was on the intruder, tackling him from the back and wrestling him to the floor.

Completely by chance, the assassin kicked his injured leg in a lucky shot, causing his knees to buckle and his grip to loosen.

With the growing sound of footsteps, the intruder’s options were dwindling. There was little chance of killing his target now that the entire room had woken up. And it was a room full of experienced pirates, so to pick a fight with all of them at once would be suicide.

“Don’t let him get away!” San yelled, grasping his gun and shoving his feet into his boots while the assassin leapt back out the window and pulled himself on to the roof.

Yunho jumped out after him and San was right on his heels, climbing over the tiled eaves of the lodging house and letting Yunho help pull him up.

The assassin had jumped the distance between their roof and the next one, and was skilfully leaping across them as silent as a shadow, hoping to lose his pursuers in the chaos.

But he had followed them here to a pirate island, a nest of enemies with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run.

“Cut him off at the waterfront?” San suggested, popping up out of a tumble as he moved from a higher building to a lower one.

Yunho grunted his acknowledgement and broke off to the west, sprinting across a roof beam in the direction of the shipyard while San went straight after the assassin and tried to direct his path from behind.

If they were successful, they’d have the intruder trapped between them. Then he could surrender or they could take him by force. San had no preference.

Just when he thought the assassin had started to turn towards the ship masts peeking up in the west, a pair of daggers came flying towards him.

With a yelp, San ducked by slipping into a crack between buildings. Keeping his eyes trained on the escaping assassin, he hauled himself up from the balcony and jumped to the next roof to continue in pursuit.

All this running on unstable ground was tiring, but evoked the memory of his successful rooftop chase on the Fortress island and made him push harder. The terrain wasn’t flat like it had been then and the stranger he was chasing was much more agile, so he had to become light on his own feet and do everything in his power to catch up.

Trying to slow the runner down, he shot a few rounds in the assassin’s general direction. It didn’t succeed in fazing him, but it did cause him to turn west, and a smile began to grow on San’s face.

This was their territory now, not the stranger’s.

Sure enough, just as the assassin reached the last roof before the docks, Yunho emerged from behind a chimney stack and shoved him to the tile.

San met up with him immediately, joining in and helping to restrain the man. The sun was beginning to rise, and in the pale early morning light the stranger wasn’t recognisable, even after Yunho ripped off his mask and looked him in the eyes.

“Who are you?” He growled, shaking the intruder by the shoulders and gripping him tightly to encourage an answer.

The assassin didn’t speak, letting the contempt in his eyes tell the pirates all they needed to know.

San was busy emptying his pockets and lifting any and all weapons from his person, but pressed him into the tile roughly for good measure, trying to get the man to talk.

“Who do you work for?” Yunho’s hands were on the assassin’s arms, restraining them behind his back and pulling the man to his feet. “What is it, you don’t want to squeal?”

San strapped the assortment of weapons to himself and helped escort the prisoner off the roof, liking the craftsmanship of the daggers and considering keeping them.

“That’s alright. He’ll change his mind when we’re done with him.”

...

Wooyoung couldn’t eat. He was too focused on the door, waiting for it to open for a lieutenant with news.

Yeosang had been coaxing some breakfast into his mouth when it finally did.

Park stuck his head in to announce that they were heading to the shipwreck site of a fellow navy ship to pick up survivors and continue into Haemin, a detour which would delay their arrival and subsequent escape.

“That’s all?” Yeosang scoffed. “You didn’t mention anything about Hongjoong’s health to him?”

“You people are useless,” Wooyoung spat before he got a chance to apologise, shooing the lieutenant out and beginning to pace the room.

It was like all these men knew how to do was hurt people and take lives. None of them had the guts to stand up to Kim and tell him to let Hongjoong go belowdecks again.

“It’s so stuffy, I can’t breathe in this,” Wooyoung whispered as he wiped his sweaty hands on the uniform, undid the clasps to expose his chest and slumped down the hull wall. “How much longer?”

Yeosang sighed and buttoned it up again for him, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go take a look.”

As always, they had to bandage their faces up and be careful not to raise any suspicion when they were in a public area, but their concern for Hongjoong and his rapidly worsening injuries was too great to simply sit around until he was returned to them.

Wooyoung went to one side of the main deck and Yeosang to the other, communicating with his uncovered eye that Byun happened to be standing just to Wooyoung’s left.

The lieutenant looked to the average sailor like he was simply keeping an eye on the proceedings of the morning, but Wooyoung knew he was watching Hongjoong intently and followed suit.

The prisoner hadn’t woken yet, his arms limp around the mast and legs tucked in underneath him to avoid being rained on.

“He can’t hold his own weight up anymore,” Wooyoung observed under his breath, just loud enough to make Byun flash a glance at him. “Before, he would probably rather lick his own wounds in a corner like an animal than let the navy help him.”

“Dying changes a man,” the lieutenant shot back quietly. “What he saw was an opportunity, and I for one am very glad he took it.”

Surgeon Oh approached and whispered in Byun’s ear just as Wooyoung opened his mouth to retort, and instead of engage in the hushed argument any longer, Byun signalled Lieutenant Park to help him remove Hongjoong from the mast and get him below. It seemed the surgeon had secured Admiral Kim’s permission.

Wooyoung still didn’t think they ever needed it.

He signalled Yeosang to meet him in their bilge deck room again and the two shuffled around anxiously until the lieutenants appeared with Hongjoong, awake now and grateful to be set down on the floor to lie still without being chained.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Yeosang rushed to ask in a low voice.

Even his throat was watery, and Hongjoong coughed up some rain before answering, “I’m fine. It wasn’t even ten lashes.”

Public punishment by cat o’ nine tails was extremely common in the navy, and it was a surprise that Kim hadn’t jumped at the chance to dole out the blows himself.

But it had them wondering why this situation was special. 

Wooyoung’s mouth ran away from him.

“What did you do to make him hate you so much?”

Hongjoong paused where he was pulling off his soaking uniform and replacing it with a dry one and met his gaze.

A cool breeze swept the space in that moment and all of them shivered.

Finally Hongjoong broke the silence and dropped the wet clothes to the floor.

“It’s complicated.”

Yeosang gave Wooyoung a warning glare to let it slide until their captain was dry, fed, and rested, but Hongjoong went on as he buttoned up his new jacket.

“I was different back then, the day we first met face to face. More reckless. And I had no fear of the evil of men, only the unforgiving nature of the wild.”

Wooyoung nodded and scooted over, bringing a blanket with him and wrapping it around the both of them.

“When it was over, I was afraid only of myself,” Hongjoong sighed, before his eyes cleared and he began the story from the beginning.

“At the time, Mingi and I were focused on building the ATEEZ from the small boat I started with to the ship both of you knew when we met. We procured weapons and materials through a variety of means, but inevitably our travels took us to Kon— a paradise for shipbuilders, but also the Navy’s back yard. I was careless in my approach, and I managed to keep Mingi and the ATEEZ safe from discovery, but Kim took me into custody and, well...”

Wooyoung’s eyes were drawn to the faint pink trace of Hongjoong’s pirate brand. The burn couldn’t hide from someone who knew where it was, and the Admiral had referred to it as a souvenir he had gifted himself.

“He remembered my name from the sinking of the Stardust, and the thought that I might continue what Eden had started clearly terrified him,” Hongjoong explained, pulling the blanket tight around him. “I’m sure he had made up his mind to kill me as quickly as the process would allow, but somehow Mingi mustered up the courage and the skill to break me out completely by himself.”

Yeosang chuckled fondly as he joined their huddle and the lieutenants made their way out with the wet clothes. They knew when their presence was no longer required.

“Getting out proved to be more tricky than getting in,” Hongjoong went on. “There was... a guard.”

He exhaled shakily and Wooyoung had a feeling this was where the story went south.

“We didn’t hear him approach, but he yelled out suddenly from behind us and drew his gun,” Hongjoong’s words and the rocking of the ship were the only sounds as Wooyoung and Yeosang held their breath. “So I-I drew mine, and without thinking, fired it. It was just another instinct after surviving alone on that island, I never meant to kill him... but he shot as well, the bullet hit my leg, and while Mingi dragged me away I looked to see what I had done.”

He lowered his head into his hands and didn’t speak for a moment. 

“Admiral Kim had arrived, and he cradled that guard in his arms and cried. He kept saying ‘my son’ over and over again, and from that day on, his hatred for me increased a hundredfold. I don’t think I fully understood until Namhae. Anyone associated with me is nothing more to him than a bug to be crushed.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t murder his son in cold blood,” Wooyoung insisted, taking his cold hand and squeezing it. “You said yourself, it was an accident.”

Hongjoong didn’t pull away, so Yeosang leaned over to join in. He could relate personally from his own memories of a steaming gun and a bleeding sorcerer. “The first kill is always the worst.”

But it was so much easier when you didn’t know what the dead left behind. When you couldn’t imagine a devastated wife, or starving children, or… a weeping father.

Their captain simply trained his eyes on the ceiling and shook his head just the same.

“I’m sorry anyway. Because I can live with his voice in my head and Kim chasing me around the globe, but I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you as a result.”

Glancing around the hold, Wooyoung knew they had been very close to that reality several times.

“If we play our cards right, neither of those will be the case,” Yeosang pointed out, sitting back and stretching his muscles.

“That’s true, although we have some planning to do thanks to the change in course,” Wooyoung grumbled as he followed suit but saved a teasing smile for Hongjoong, whose eyes were already heavy lidded and fading fast.

“Join us when you’re ready, Captain. I’ve been dying to have you boss me around again.”

...

Maddox arrived at the lodging house to find the assassin already captive and bound to a chair, the officers of the ATEEZ all wide awake and taking turns intimidating him.

Maddox wondered if they were aware how much they spoke to each other without words.

“There was a distress signal,” he explained when Mingi approached with his eyebrow raised, motioning for the men he’d brought to stand by the door.

“We have everything under control,” Mingi assured him smoothly, and Maddox had figured as much but he had to admit he was curious about what was going on.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked cordially, and Mingi gave him a shy smile and a nod.

Seonghwa was seated in front of the intruder, not the slightest bit shaken by the attempt on his life.

He had a hand on the scruff of the man’s neck and wasn’t afraid to get in his face, refusing to allow his eyes to be avoided. Maddox guessed his approach was somewhat tame compared to others.

“Your name,” the prince growled. “That’s all I’m asking for now.”

The assassin held his silence for a few seconds before swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as Seonghwa stared him down.

If he tried to lie, they’d know it instantly. Seonghwa had that look in his eyes, like he was asking a question he already knew the answer to. Like he was simply leading the other through an exercise of asserting dominance, where at the end of it the assassin gave him everything he wanted or had a body part broken courtesy of Jongho.

“Jang, at your service,” the man finally spat, smooth features contorting angrily.

Seonghwa smirked and petted the assassin’s neck almost tenderly. “See?” He cooed, his voice as gentle as if he were speaking to a child. “That wasn’t so hard.”

Noticing Maddox’s presence, Seonghwa beckoned him over to whisper in his ear. “Might we speak privately?”

Maddox nodded and signalled for the men he’d brought to guard the assassin. They didn’t want him slipping away while Jongho had his leg tended to again.

When they were outside with the morning sun on their faces, Seonghwa sighed deeply and turned to face him.

“I’ve seen him before.”

Maddox was confused. “What? Where?”

“It was in the square, the day Hongjoong died,” Seonghwa blinked as if remembering against his will. “He was at the execution... he works for Admiral Kim.”

“And yet he tried to kill you when he knows who you are,” Maddox snorted out a laugh, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

This was turning out to be more of a headache than he’d thought.

“All along...” Seonghwa muttered bitterly, his eyes fixed on the distant waves beyond the docks. “Kim had been planning to kill me at sea and make it look like an accident, just a tragic casualty of war. It doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Then it’s a good thing you left when you did, you might not have had anyone to fall back on,” Maddox couldn’t help but notice, straightening his shoulders and asking the younger man for a course of action. “What do you want to do?”

“Relax your security,” Seonghwa suggested after a moment, pushing back off the railing and facing him.

Maddox’s mouth worked silently as he tried to understand. “But...”

“He can lead us to the Black Crow,” Seonghwa’s jaw was set and he insisted without even consulting the rest of his crew, that was how sure he was they would go along with this ridiculous scheme.

“Seonghwa—”

“I’m betting he’ll try to escape to inform the Admiral.”

Maddox sighed and looked down at the docks for any unfamiliar ship. There was a single longboat that looked like the Navy’s, but he wasn’t certain it was enough evidence. “You’re sure he knows where they’re headed now?”

“Kim would want confirmation the job was finished,” Seonghwa reasoned. “He must have told Jang where to meet him.”

Maddox chewed on his lip while he considered it. Their band was travelling south already, but a little more specificity to navigate with would undoubtedly be an asset. It was probably worth a try, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Not to mention the Stardust’s sailing master Jihan would thank him for it.

“Alright, it’s better than nothing,” he finally agreed, shaking hands with the prince and amicably parting ways. It looked like Eden would have to wait.

He took his extra men with him and returned to the Stardust officers’ quarters. Their master gunner and master-at-arms were already seated by the door, ready to go.

“Soomin, Jonghoon,” he addressed them, searching around for his hat. “Pack your things, we’re headed to Haemin.”

...

Taglist: @serendipityunho @celestial-yunho @atzjjongbby @89staytinyzen21

A/N: Our journey continues southward! Let me know if you noticed any interesting details or have any predictions for the future, and thanks so much for reading and keeping up with Treasure! It means a lot <3

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[fakeyellow]

Never Let Me Go

MC undoes the wishes so everyone returns to their normal lives without ever Turning into vampires. Features closure scenes for all of the LI’s as MC learns what happened to them (Kamilah, Lily, Adrian, and Jax in that order)

Amanda wakes up and is faced with the aftermath of losing everyone she loves. 

She knows in her mind what has happened but it isn’t until she’s standing inside the Met’s Egyptian exhibit that she truly realises what it means.

She’s walking around in a daze when suddenly, she sees it.

Kamilah’s necklace.

The colors are faded, worn down by thousands of years, but it is undoubtedly hers.

How many times had she seen it gracing Kamilah’s long elegant neck, resting right on top of her immaculately pressed shirts?

She’d recognise that necklace anywhere and she recognises it here in this museum, sitting behind fortified glass walls.

And it hits her all at once.

She isn’t sure when the tears start dripping off her face but Amanda is suddenly drowning in the intensity of her emotions with no hope of salvation.

She falls to her knees in the middle of that exhibit, heaving sobs ripping out of her body as she cries for the woman that she loves so deeply but will never see again.

—

She’s numb with grief when she tries to enter her apartment but she’s stopped by security before she can even get into the building.

“You don’t understand, I live here-“ She exclaims frantically, trying to get past their burly frames, but it is futile.

Without another place to go, she goes back to her old apartment for the first time in a while since she had moved in with Kamilah.

“Hey roomie.”

The words take a while to register but then Amanda finds herself falling forward, flinging her arms around a very surprised Lily.

She’d thought her tears had been spent at that exhibit but apparently, she has an infinite supply of tears and she weeps them all into her friend’s solid embrace.

—

It hurts to be with Lily.

Amanda is grateful that she still has Lily in her life, but it hurts her more than she wants to admit to talk to a person who is at once the person she knew and not.

They have always been close friends but they’d gone through so much together after Lily’s Turning.

They had been through hell and back, sharing a verifiable lifetime’s worth of experiences together in the span of a year. Their relationship lacks that depth now, that intimacy, and Amanda feels the keen pain of loss with each interaction.

Years later, they’ve formed new inside jokes, made new memories, and their friendship grows stronger than ever.

And Amanda finally stops seeing the shadows of the past in Lily.

—

She doesn’t know what she expects to find when she goes to the location of Adrian’s old house, but she most definitely does not expect to see a museum.

A museum is a bit of a formal title to place upon the small cottage, but that is what the sign in front of the house says: “Robertson-Raines Historic House Museum.”

Amanda trepidatiously steps foot inside and can’t help but gasp at the insides that are almost identical to what she’d seen the last time they’d hidden here. Everything looks well-cared for and the only new additions are informational placards and “do not touch” signs.

There’s an old man at the desk who greets her warmly but she does not see him, so absorbed in her memories.

She comes to a stop in the bedroom where there is a locket on display and her heart catches to see the faces of Adrian’s wife and son. It feels like only yesterday that Adrian had shown her his past, bared his soul to her, and yet so much has changed.

“Ah yes, you’ve found the locket,” a voice interrupts and Amanda jumps in surprise.

“While we don’t know their names, they’re presumed to be the family of Adrian Raines, a soldier in the Revolutionary War who bought this land,” the old man says.

“Do you know what happened to them?” She dares to whisper, hoping against hope that Adrian had somehow found the peace he’d so wanted, in the absence of Gaius’s meddling. 

“Unfortunately, there are no official records until 1785, when the land was sold to the Robertson family. They were most likely casualties of the Revolutionary War,” he says.

Amanda’s face crumbles despite her best efforts, and noticing, the old man quickly adds, “But I myself was always partial to the idea that the family moved elsewhere after the war in search of more fertile lands.”

She knows there isn’t much factual basis to his words but they are comforting nonetheless and she latches onto that hope, nodding tearfully.

“Goodbye Adrian,” she whispers.

—

It is with shock that Amanda realises that Jax might be alive.

He’d been young in the 80’s when he’d been turned and barring some sort of illness or accident, there is no reason Jax should not be alive.

But as curious as she is, as much as she longs to see him, she knows that even if she searches for him, she will not be meeting the Jax she knows.

And for a long time, Amanda isn’t ready for that. She doesn’t want to forget the memories of the Jax she knows, she’s not ready to see a Jax who does not know her at all, who’s had a life of his own without her.

But one day, years later, she searches for him and knocks on a door.

It can’t be more than a couple of seconds before the door opens but in that brief moment, Amanda’s mind fills with fears that she’s gotten the wrong address and she half turns to go away.

And then the door opens and it is Jax. Although his hair has turned white and there are wrinkles in his forehead, he is undoubtedly Jax.

“Yes?” He asks expectantly and Amanda blushes when she realises she’s been staring at him this entire time. But she can’t take her eyes off of him.

There is so much of the Jax she knew in his face and yet he is different: his eyes have laugh lines, he has a small scar on his cheek that she’s never seen before, and there is a wise maturity in his eyes.

But most of all, he doesn’t have that cynical air around him. He looks curious as to who she might be but he’s not scowling like her Jax had so often done.

And Amanda realises: this is a Jax who’s had the freedom to live his life the way he wants. He’s faced difficulties of a different nature but they’ve been on his own terms and overall, he’s lived a good and happy life.

“Jax, who is it?” A voice calls out to him and Amanda can no longer hold back her tears.

“Wrong address, sorry” she manages to say in a choked voice before she runs away, leaving as the man looks bemusedly after her.

—

There is not a day that goes by that Amanda does not feel the absence of her friends in her life. There is not a single moment that Amanda stops missing Kamilah, longing for Kamilah, loving Kamilah.

But in the end, she learns to move on. She learns how to live with their absence, to live with her perpetual grief without succumbing to it.

And when Amanda closes her eyes for the last time, it is with a smile.  

—

A/N: The Kamilah scene is the shortest because I already wrote an angsty scene for her specifically lol. 

But after writing that dark scene, I really wanted to write a more hopeful story because the Bloodbound MC is resilient af. I hope you like it. I’ve not really written Adrian/Lily/Jax before but it was fun (and so sad) to write what happened to them if they weren’t vampires.

The title is taken after the amazing book “Never Let Me Go” by Kazuo Ishiguro, which is such a beautiful bildungsroman in a dystopian setting that I cannot recommend enough.

[cristian-capulet]

Hole In My Heart [Cris & Leo]

Who: Cristian and Leonardo Capulet

What: Meet to have a talk after their less than stellar run in the week prior. 

Where: Park

When: 11AM on February 8th

Summary: Seeking closure, Cristian invites Leo to have a chat with him in a public space after their fight the week prior, and running into each other again the night after. More information comes to light that leads Cristian to make some suggestions to Leo about his future, and instead of shutting Leonardo entirely out of his life, Cristian ends up finding himself offering to help.

Warnings: Mention of PTSD, mental health discussion.

Leo fidgeted with his tie and collar as he walked through the park. He was still in a bit of disbelief at the fact that he was even here. Cris had asked him to talk, but... did he even deserve a chance to speak to him? No. No he didn't, but he had the opportunity, and damn if he didn't want a chance to see Cristian again. As he got closer, he saw Cristian there waiting for him, and he slowed slightly as he closed the distance between them. With a coffee in hand, he took a deep breath before stopping next to the bench. "Hey..." He said in greeting, it was weak, but any of his familiar greetings with him wouldn't be welcome anymore. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

Inviting Leo to chat hadn’t been easy for the submissive. He was still incredibly angry and betrayed, but knew it stemmed from just how strong his love for Leo had been when they’d been together. How much he admittedly still cared... Cristian hoped if anything perhaps conversing with Leonardo would offer some form of closure for himself— realizing he had questions and emotions he wanted answered and validated... just not on the spot in a grungy men’s bathroom at a bar. He felt... more composed now. Ready to talk and figure out what went wrong. Or... at least that’s what he’d told himself prior to texting the invitation to Leo. The submissive had spent the morning in a tizzy, and had been fumbling with a long empty coffee cup for a solid twenty minutes prior to the Dominant’s arrival, dead set on being the first to arrive. “No- not at all,” he answered, shaking his head politely. His fingers nervously continued to play with the lid of his disposable coffee cup as his eyes quickly raked over Leo’s form in curiosity. “Thank you for agreeing to chat...Please— sit.”

Leo cleared his throat as he slowly took a seat next to Cristian on the bench. Nerves were eating at him, not knowing what to expect out of this meeting. He thought that he had said his goodbye, then there had been the drunk texts, and he thought that was goodbye. Now there was this. It was only fair that Cristian got to leave on his own terms, and surely that's what this was. There was no other way for them, not after what he'd done. He just hoped he could get through the meeting without becoming a complete wreck in front of the submissive. "Of course. I wouldn't have said no to you." He stopped himself from saying anything else by taking a sip from his coffee cup. After a moment he said, "So... you've got me here now..."

“I wanted to first off.... apologize again for having forced our initial conversation in that bar... and again for texting you the next day,” he began, gaze lingering on his cup as he spoke. He had no regrets chasing after Leo at the bar, but wished perhaps he’d found another way to do it still. “But then... I was hoping you might be willing to talk about... it.” He let his voice drop off a moment before Cristian added, “What... wasn’t working... What maybe I guess— if there was anything I could have done that I failed to do to— to prevent what happened.” it felt impossible to say it. Any way to prevent you leaving me. To prevent us Falling apart. “I know you were having nightmares and you mentioned at the bar... Alex... But— I guess... ghosting me? Everyone? Your sudden disappearance was... was really hard, Leo. Even though the texts all said delivered, a small part of me honestly wasn’t sure you were alive.”

They were going right into it, it appeared. That's fine. Leo was much more comfortable with people being direct. He hated people dancing around the real point, although when it came to difficult topics like this, he had become a master at avoiding the point. This time? He vowed honesty. No more hiding the truth, dancing around it, deflecting, or changing topics. Whatever Cristian wanted from him, he would give, if he could. "Well, for starters, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all." He glanced over at the male, even though he noticed Cristian's eyes on the cup in his hands, Leo couldn't take his eyes away from him. "If that's what you want to talk about... I'll tell you anything you want to know. Although, I think it's important that you understand that there's nothing that you failed to do. I was - I am a bit lost and a lot broken. I was hoping you wouldn't notice the nightmares, but I suppose that's impossible..." Leo ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "This... these issues started long before us. Long before I came back to Verona, truth be told. I should've told you sooner. I..." His brow furrowed, realizing he was going to be putting himself in a headspace he didn't like to be. "Honestly, you made me forget for a while... before you, I had difficulty sleeping straight through the night. With you there, I was able to somehow relax enough to make it through a night and I began to heal, really... It's hard to explain what it's like to be in charge of lives, and to see those lives lost. It's not something you can just get over."His fingers tapped a rhythm on the cup as he tried to keep himself calm, but his eyes seemed distant as he found himself back there. Seeing each one of those young faces lost and under his command. "I left the military because I couldn't deal with the loss. I couldn't... I couldn't have them trust me, follow me, and lose them it was too much after a while. So... when I started this mission to help with Oz... I didn't think that I would have to worry about loss. They were my responsibility, Cris. They weren't trained to do what I was. It was my job to make sure they weren't hurt and I lost him. It's my fault that he's dead. Alex should've..." His voice caught and his brow furrowed. "Well, it's my fault. They trusted me to bring them home, and I failed. So, losing him brought it all back, and you weren't there with me when it happened and... well, the nightmares returned, and worse. The only time I felt somewhat normal was with you, but I couldn't tell you... I couldn't admit my failure out loud. It's easy to say that you don't think it's my fault, but how could it not be?" He asked, it was a rhetorical question, and he moved on. "So, when you say you want to know if there's anything you failed to do... no, you were everything I needed. It was my fault, my inability to see past my fears, past my grief, past all my failures. I felt like I would bring you down, or that I would ruin us, or that you would see me as a failure, and I couldn't handle that. Cris, I would not have survived if you saw me as the failure I think I am."There was a moment where he tried to think of what next to say and then he said, "Like I said before, I regretted the decision. I was second guessing myself before I did it. The problem was I thought it was right, it wasn't. I truly thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I was protecting you from my self-destruction. Little did I know that you were my only sanity." He shook his head and looked down at the cup he held in his hands.

Cristian didn’t speak for a moment after, trying to fully process the response after— quite a bit more detailed than at the bar. From what it sounded like... Leo had PTSD from his time spent in the military, and Alex passing had triggered it. And Cristian... has failed to connect the dots. He hated the fact he hadn’t ever thought much about the other’s mental health— and any issues he might have had associated with time spent serving. He could never judge Leo for it— heavens knew he would have similar issues in his shoes— but instead judged himself for not knowing or presuming there might be something along those lines at play still that was hurting the Dominant. Was he upset still for how Leo had handled everything— how he’d ripped the choice from Cristian’s hands and left him? Absolutely. But hearing how mentally broken he was and continued to be... Part of him wanted to ask why Leo hadn’t changed fields entirely to something less stressful, or if he’d ever seen a professional for help at any point in his life. Someone who could help him process these events and move past them... Cristian appreciated knowing his impact on the other, but also wondered how healthy such a dependency could be. Regardless, it broke his heart knowing even if he disagreed with Leo’s actions, the Dominant had thought he had to go it alone and further isolate himself from everyone— perhaps the very last thing he should have done. At least when he left, Cristian had had family and friends to fall back on. Did Leo allow himself... anyone? Cristian reaches for Leo’s coffee cup, gently yet firmly taking it from him as well as his own, setting both on the ground. “Come here,” he urged then as he sat back up, opening his arms wanting to pull the older male into a hug.

Once it was out in the open Leo felt... raw. Far to exposed. He wanted to find a way to take it all back, bury it behind the face he showed to everyone else, the one that appeared to have himself put together and in control. Except, somehow, with admitting that he had these issues meant that he could no longer push them aside and pretend they didn’t exist. He wondered how he was going to survive the night now that he’d admitted things to someone else, and was trying to think of ways to do that when his coffee cup was removed from his hands. Leo didn’t fight, his eyes merely looking to the submissive wondering what was going on until he heard the words spoken and saw his arms open. Moving slowly, his body closed the small distance between them, arms wrapping around the other’s frame as if he couldn’t believe he had this opportunity. After a moment he squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his face into the curve of the submissive’s neck as emotions hit him harder than he expected. This was where he felt safest. Why had he pushed this away? He might have found a way to heal if he’d only trusted this information to Cristian sooner. “I’m sorry...” he mumbled into the other’s shoulder lost in the sadness, and guilt that overwhelmed him, and the relief to feel as though he wasn’t alone anymore.

It didn't matter that Leo had hurt Cristian deeply in that moment-- or that they had a lot to work past. The submissive could plainly see the other was hurting, and while it might have been easy to say it was well-deserved, Cristian knew this was much more than that. It genuinely hurt him as well seeing Leo suffering like this and knowing he'd been struggling with this for so long. Why did he still work security? Could he... Move to a less violently inclined version of it that wasn't as likely to involve someone getting hurt? He supposed that was what Leo had already intended until things had taken a twist in Verona thanks to the Romano family. His arms wrapped snuggly around Leo's frame, sighing gently. One arm encircling Leo's back as the other gently cradled the nape of his neck "I know you are, Leo," he answered back gently. "I know, sweetheart." The pet name rolled off his tongue with  a familiar yet sad ease, wishing there was more he could do or say. It felt wrong to try to verbalize so much so quickly though-- to try to suggest Leo start speaking to a professional, or to ask why he hadn't switched careers entirely. "Everything will be okay, I promise you," he added instead, content to let silence fill the void as he held Leo close. How things would be okay-- Cristian wasn't sure yet. But as much as he thought things were over between the Dominant and himself, he couldn't simply leave Leo in the state he was in-- especially knowing now that the man was keeping all of this to himself. He wasn't even sure what the next steps would be, but he knew the best thing at the moment was reassurance. Leo would get better... Cristian would make sure of it.

Hearing Cristian trying to comfort him helped to calm him slowly. He had opened himself up to a reality he had kept locked up tight and tried to hide away. This was a culmination of years worth of pain, grief, and blame hitting him in waves. He held onto Cristian tightly, and that promise that everything would be okay finally helped to calm the storm of emotions. Slowly the crying stopped, his breathing normalized, and as he composed himself he turned his head away from Cristian as he cleaned off his face. Unable to look the submissive in the eye at first. He’d never broken down in front of anyone, and here he was looking weak in front of the person whose opinion mattered more to him than anyone else. “Sorry... I shouldn’t have... usually, I’m much more in control of... And this is... it’s a lot to deal with, a burden that I should’ve been able to handle...” He hadn’t wanted to unload this on Cristian, and he felt a sense of embarrassment at this, but at the same time he realized yet again... he wasn’t alone. Cristian hadn’t shoved him away once he learned the truth. “Thank you...” he said softly, still unable to meet the other male’s eyes.

Cristian fished a tissue from his pocket when Leo pulled away— one he’d brought Incase he himself had needed it. He leaned down to grab the Dominant his coffee, holding it out for Leo take along with the facial tissue. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, then you aren’t either, Leo,” he chided softly.  “It is a lot to deal with... more than most do their entire lives. But you’re wrong thinking you’re somehow suppose to be able to somehow cope with this all alone.” Hell, Cristian hadn’t done that when Leo left... he had friends and family, and had even sought professional help after a few months in order to get his own life in order... And what he’d gone through was far less traumatic than feeling lives were lost due to him.

Taking his coffee cup again, as well as the tissue, Leo focused on the things in his hand as he listened to Cristian. He gave a small shrug. “It seems like a poor excuse, my having to deal with a lot. And to think... I chose the military life.” A rueful smile crosses his features. “Seems I’m good at making terrible life decisions.” He took a deep breath and then took another sip of coffee. It felt natural, right even, for him to confide in Cristian. He knew he had no right to unload on the submissive, not when they weren’t together anymore. Still, he felt relieved it was him and not anyone else. This understanding wouldn’t have come from most, but that wasn’t terribly surprising, Cristian had always been good to him despite his past. “I hope you don’t still think you’ve failed me, or us, in some way. I don’t think you can be at fault in any of this. I just wish... that I’d realized I needed support sooner, that maybe I didn’t have to hold it in and try to deal with it all alone... and poorly, might I add.” God, it would be a miracle if his liver would survive past 45 at the rate he’d been going lately. “I just... I don’t know what to do,” he admitted softly. This was territory he hadn’t crossed before. For once he wasn’t confident in his next steps, or even the least bit sure.

The submissive’s  lips curled into a frown. He did feel  he’d failed Leo in some aspects— such as never realizing he suffered any forms of PTSD or noticing the signs. He realized now he’d put Leo up on a pedestal in many regards, not realizing just how faulted the other man was. Leo has simply been so good at hiding it for so long, and Cristian, blissfully ignorant. Still, he wasn’t going to start a fight over this or cause more stress. He sighed softly and reached for his own empty cup. “Well... do you want my advice, Sir?”

His eyes lifted to Cristian at his question. There was a certain nervousness at what the other might suggest. After only a brief moment of consideration, he nodded slowly, he trusted that Cristian would only want what was best for him. “What do you think I should do?”

He hesitated a moment, nervous as to how Leo might take the suggestion. One hand held onto the coffee cup still as the other reached out, gently resting on Leo’s knee. “I don’t know much about your experiences prior to working together for Lord Tybalt... but have you ever tried speaking to someone about this— all of this before? Or... would you be open to trying at least?” He paused a moment, giving Leo’s leg a gently squeeze. “I— I want to help you, Leo, but I think speaking to an unbiased third party might help.. a lot.” Cristian spoke slowly, watching carefully for any sign of Leo pulling away as he continued. “I could even recommend someone— if you prefer it be via phone versus in person. Or... I would be willing to help you find someone you were comfortable speaking with locally here in Breton, if you’d consider it.”

As he listened to Cristian speak, Leo’s brow furrowed. It was hard already, to tell him and admit it to himself. However, he had come to a realization that he certainly couldn’t do this on his own. Cris was being understanding, but could he truly expect the other to listen to some of the gruesome things he had seen? No. He had a feeling if he didn’t get it out then those memories would remain trapped in his mind, a constant reminder of his failure, perhaps this would be another way. Maybe he could find a way to feel less pain over all the lives lost. “I... would... I think maybe I should try...” His eyes went from the hand on Leo’s knee to the other male’s face, looking for reassurance. “Do you think they can help? Do you think you might help me find someone who could really work with me on this? Someone who maybe has experience dealing with people who were in the military... maybe?” He needed someone who could understand what he had been through. Someone who wasn’t just trying to help but knew what someone like him would have gone through. Someone with experience.

Cristian nodded almost immediately, surprised by the other’s willingness to the idea. It was a positive, promising step forward. “Yeah... I can definitely help, Leo,” he responded softly, making a mental note to start looking into locally available resources later than evening. “I’ll see what I can dig up and we can go over your options over coffee or brunch some time in the near future. How’s that sound?” He added with a gentle smile. He was already willing to meet with his ex again apparently, something that he hadn’t envisioned that morning. Inviting Leo to chat was suppose to be for closure... to truly move on— but life apparently had a funny way of ignoring any plans Cristian ever made for himself. Knowing what he knew now, he couldn’t have simply left Leo and cut him out of his life like the other had so desperately tried to do to himself. He wasn’t sure what to call what was between them anymore... Or if he could manage a friendship with his ex, but it hardly felt like either wanted the other completely gone. “We can catch up, too... you can tell me how the new job’s going... it’ll be... nice, yeah?”

Relief flooded him at the idea of having Cristian’s help. Before he knew it, he reached out with his free arm, the one not holding his coffee cup, and pulled him in towards his body. “I can’t thank you enough for this. For everything.” Lord knew he didn’t deserve this kindness. Pulling back, he remained close as a slow and small smile rugged at the corner of his lips. “I’d like that, to meet up and talk about what options you find... and so we can catch up. You can tell me about your job too. I want to know how you like it.” It sounded like Cristian was willing to let him into his life still. That gave Leo hope. Maybe they weren’t together right now, but maybe... maybe someday when he wasn’t so broken. He still loved Cristian more than he had any right to, but he knew as he settled back against the bench, that he needed to work on himself first. However, he wasn’t alone in this. He still had Cris, at least in some form.

[haila-wetyios]

“⏳” “⏳”

For a story of the past told by my character

INCOMING LONG POST BECAUSE INSPIRATION AND SHADOWBRINGERS ARC START: 

(Edit: Frand, I am so sorry for this plot dump… I’ve had it planned for weeks and it never came out fully until I sat down just now to finally type it. #2 is even more huge than I expected…)

1.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this… Just another day at the usual trade, but I was careless, desperate to get away from that which I feared the most in this place. But it all went wrong… He was not meant to see me like this, I was not supposed to fail so miserably at my job. Did I mess up because I was not alone? That is perhaps the only answer I have. That was the reason why I saw his crying face as I tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. I could still save him, pull him away from the danger that I was about to fall onto. And I did not fail at it. It was the day I fell, that I lost both him and my son…. It was the day that I died.

Nothing prepares you for the pain that comes, the feeling of all my limbs breaking, of having trouble breathing, of my skull hurting as all hells as I drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. It was then that I felt it, the reason my aetherometers had registered so many irregularities right within my grasp… Should I have reached out for it the way I did? I believe it was worth it. But it is also what broke me. The very thing that finished tearing my body apart. It hardened my hands like crystal, part of my skin, it brought the same feeling I did during my worst times in sickness. The stones forming in my lungs from the corruption happening inside my body. It was beyond recovery as everything shifted around me. Voices of the past, of my failures and successes, my greatest joys and griefs. They all rang around me as I arrived at his doorstep. 

I saw a familiar face, one between muddled memories, threatening to be wiped from what was left of me. “Only a new vessel can save you…” he had told me after seeing the state I was into. Only a new one… One prepared as an apology from his acts, from dragging me into a fight that was not meant for me to go through. It was how he gave me life once more, one with a cursed longevity that I once hated. Years accumulating one after another upon stranding me in this Star, so many suns, moons going by knowing that my child grew up without his mother, that my husband presumed me gone. Oh how I hope he never blamed himself for it. For me going away. I had no choice but to settle here, to help those in need, to use my knowledge to adjust calculations running over and over to call the true hero to us. 

Did you know Rohmio, my dear child? That I will soon have seen seventy cycles of endless light, that I will soon turn one hundred years old. That tonight was the first dark sky that I’d seen after all this time in the Crystanium.“

2. 

“At first he was just a faint voice, a cry that caught my attention for the first time upon realizing that I could hear at last. That both the senses of the one that had given herself up for me had finally become one. And what a treat and a blade to the heart it was to feel someone’s hand, when food started to taste like a mix of flavors from someone preparing a hearty meal rather than just sand going down my throat. Then, when sound graced my presence, I heard the cry of a boy, just a daily mishap as he let tears down over a scraped knee. I had learned my way through the city with a blindfold and a cane quite well by then, and thus I tried to cheer the young one, to humor him while the physicians searched for a bandage for him.

Then one day, the smell of flowers reached my nose, for the first time in what felt like ages, I could tell the difference between being in the Hortorium and being near the closest dumpster. But what surprised me the most, was the one bringing such a small detail that meant the world to me. It was the same boy I’d helped, now older, judging from the tone of his voice, he must have been about to start his teenage years. It brought a smile to my face, one that he joked about. He became my first friend in this Star, or at least, the first one I allowed to be closer to me. For what felt like an eternity, he visited me, we would talk about fairy tales, the ups and abouts of daily life, and my struggle to recover my sight, the last sense that I was missing. Perhaps it was then that I had decided to finally step up and join the engineers working at the tower. All it took was a couple more years for me to develop a tool to help with such. And of course, my partner in crime was the very person to offer to help in the long winded sessions of recovery until I could remove my blindfold.

It had been twenty years by then, that I was stranded without senses, to finally see for myself this eternal light that everyone spoke off. I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment and nervousness, or was it truly that as I spoke to my friend? So long had it been since I’d known him, from a boy to a man judging from the tone of his voice, yet to me it was still as sweet as ever. And then I felt it, a gentle press against my lips as he removed the cloth around my eyes. Everything was a muddled mess at first as I opened them, the light finally manifesting after cycles of darkness, it took several moments until I saw the face before me. And it broke my heart into millions of pieces.

My first love, the man I’d watched grow into someone I was proud of. The one that I’d seen burn down before my very eyes, the reason my hands had scars that I could feel no more. My friend… You were the spitting image of Ruah’a. And I could not bear to see what was before me. Not only had you kept your secret from me, about the sickness that had stricken you one day without my knowing. That your face would someday harden into white, and that your aether would be nothing but corrupted light. But what destroyed my heart the most, was the ring you held in your hand, the one that you’d placed on my palm, telling me to keep it regardless of my decision. If only you knew of my past…. If only you were aware that my eldest son could be no older than you judging by the years. Yet here I was, crying just like a young girl over her first heartbreak. You deserved to know the truth, and that I gave to you.

Seeing your reactions go from shock, to understanding, to merely holding my hands as I continued to let out everything I’d held back. How I’d mourned for my husband and child, that would more than likely not even remember me by now. You took all of it, and let me be free from it’s weight. Your reassurance of everything, how I deserved to be greedy, to look even if just for a little for my own happiness rather than other’s, it is what kept me together in my biggest moment of grief. It is what gave me courage in my worst times. And though a ceremony did not happen, I made sure to do anything in my power to slow your ailment as much as possible. And then, ten years later, a miracle happened, I gave birth twice.

I made every single passing of the seasons count, your time was not the same as mine, and we were both extremely aware of it. I admired you for the strength you had, having chosen me despite knowing of that, though that was also a cruel truth placed upon the vessel that took my soul in. I constructed trinkets to manage aether better than the ones I once wore. I raised two beautiful children without trouble. I was scared at the lack of difficulty I had in leaving my name behind, in becoming the Vii everyone thought I was. And then, when the time came, we all headed to the Inn at Journey’s End, to see our last remaining moments together as a family in peace. I take pride in knowing that we raised our children well. That both can hold their own in a way I wished I could have seen my dear Rohmio grow into. I consider myself lucky for having found you a second time in my life. A second chance. For being able to say goodbyes properly, not out of the expected doom. But out of the gift of nature, a passing of old age. I will forge forward, and pray that there is yet hope. That I may find those that I lost in the Source so long ago. That I may honor the life you gave me. That I can still return home just like I left it all those years ago…”

[nelvana]

In which help is requested from a higher power

First: In which the human is transformed Next: In which the lost are found back home Previous: In which it is time for goodbyes

    For a few minutes, the remaining three did not move, did not approach the house to go inside.

    There was no rush, after all. Most of the pokemon from the crowd at the Hill of the Ancients would have to walk all the way back here, and none of the pokemon that stayed at Pokemon Square would know that this trio has returned until they made themselves known. So, for now, it could just be the three of them alone.

    Keahi remained hidden and unresponsive in Tsuki’s long fur, while Edgar hovered beside them; waiting for one of them to make the next move. Finally, Tsuki seemed to think better of sitting in the middle of the pathway in front of the team base, and slowly stood up; cradling the Keahi with a forepaw so that the torchic would not be forced to get up and drag herself to the house with them. Slowly, with her now three-legged gait, the absol padded up to the door and leaned her body weight against the wood, only to recall that they had locked the door… and that they no longer had the key, which was stored in the team bag… that they no longer were carrying…

    She slumped against the door in defeat, letting out a drawn-out sigh. For a moment, the light appeared in Edgar’s left socket, giving Tsuki an almost puzzled look, one that looked like he wanted to say something, to question what they were doing, but was respecting the silence and not speaking.

    “The door is locked,” Tsuki mumbled, deciding to give the duskull the benefit of an answer.

    Edgar turned to the door, and then back to his friends, “I can unlock it for you,” he offered quietly.

    Tsuki blinked, and then nodded slowly. Edgar paused, and then floated through the doorway and into the house like it was thin air. She was initially unbothered by this action; since she had seen it be done so many times in the tower by other various ghost-types, and then… their teammates with the mobile scarf-

    The door unlocked with a click. Tsuki shook her head to clear her, now bothered, thoughts and stood up, pushing her weight on the door as if it would open without her turning the knob. Fortunately, Edgar seemed to get the idea, and opened the door from the inside. They stumbled inside, and the absol offered the duskull a small nod of acknowledgement for his continued help.

    Unwilling to crawl all the way upstairs yet, she carried Keahi into their living room and collapsed onto the bean bag couch; which Tsuki couldn’t help but think smelled too much and yet too little like their missing teammates.

    They laid there for a long time, Edgar joining them every once and awhile before idly going off to explore the rest of the house. Tsuki didn’t mind, and if Keahi did she hadn’t said anything about it either; it was his house now too anyway, and the movement was probably keeping his mind distracted and busy from the loss. Sometimes one or both of them on the bean bag couch would cry again as they recalled one event or another connected to their friends. Now the memory of following the, at the time, trio through the Frosty Forest burned into the front of Tsuki’s mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she should have introduced herself sooner, given just an extra few hours with them. And when she did her best to comfort Keahi when she sobbed again, the absol couldn’t help but think about how much more time the torchic had had with them, and how much more that hurt now.

    After what felt like already a long time, there was a quiet knock on the door. Tsuki felt a growl rise in her throat; had one of the townsfolk arrived to inevitably share words that she already found unnecessary? Edgar, however, moved over to the door again, and floated through it back outside instead of opening it. She found herself thankful for the duskull once again, and wondered how he was handling this.

    It turned out, as Edgar would tell them later, it was the B Squadron at the door, and not one of the citizens from Pokemon Square. The quintet had found the A Squadron’s team bag, left behind at the Hill of the Ancients where their teammates once stood, and had returned to give it back to them, as well as provide some comfort of their own. However, they also recognized that the remaining three might not want too much company at the moment, and promise to return later the next day instead.

    Eventually, there were other knocks on the door; finally the townsfolk that Tsuki had predicted would arrive sooner or later. Edgar continued answering diligently each time it happened, usually anywhere from a few minutes to an hour or two apart. While Tsuki felt bad for leaving him to answer the door each time, it felt better than not answering at all. Plus, with the duskull not knowing any of the pokemon that would turn up at the house, and none of those pokemon knowing him, neither side would feel obligated to say more than needed, and would get any rest that was needed.

    Kangaskhan was one of the early knockers, and the only one that Tsuki spoke out to from the other room. The storage keeper expressed her wishes to stay and help them, but was also blocked by her job. Like the B Squadron, she promised to return the next day, and wished the trio well.

    Keahi barely even lifted her head for any of them.

    Out of the windows, Tsuki could see the sun beginning to set, its colors warmer as it begun its decent away. Realizing how long she had been laying on the bean bag couch, she decided to finally get up again. Despite having barely moved in many hours, her body felt tired and drained. But it also felt stiff, so she stretched and slowly padded over to one of the windows that had grabbed her attention in the first place.

    It was the same view as she had seen every time she had looked out this window. Of course, the coloration of the sunset itself was always different, but the general sameness to the sight left her feeling emptier than she had hoped from looking at what was normally a beautiful sight. They did have a good location for their home after all, and even a repeated view can still look nice…

    “Is that the sunset?” Edgar asked softly, floating up beside Tsuki again to take a look as well. “It’s really pretty. It was hard to get a good look up in the tower sometimes,” he hummed.

    Tsuki nodded slowly, looking over at the duskull before glancing back at the torchic still on the bean bag couch. Keahi hadn’t even bothered to look up over at them, and instead curled up further in the fabric, presumably as an attempt to hide from the world around them.

    “Uh, since you’re up…” Edgar continued, bringing the absol’s attention back to him. “Will you guys need to eat soon…?”

    Tsuki paused to ponder the question for a moment, “I’m afraid that I don’t have much of an appetite right now, but thank you for the sentiment,” she replied.

    “What about drink? Will you need some water?” Edgar asked, beginning to slowly float towards the kitchen in hopes of a positive answer.

    Not willing to reject Edgar’s offer of help again, and having to admit to herself that she was thirsty after all this, Tsuki nodded and followed her friend over to the counter. She had never done much in the kitchen herself, but knew at least where the cups were and how to work the tap. Two cups were filled, one she drank herself, and the other Edgar picked up to bring over to Keahi. He managed to get her attention, and even to have a sip of the cool water, before she turned away and buried her face in the scarf again.

    Now that she was standing up again and had had much time already to mull over her grief, she felt to urge to do something productive; to distract herself. For the first time in months, her mind was clear and unburdened from the meteor disaster screaming at her to be handled, but that pain was now replaced with the emptiness from her missing friends. Their scents still filled the house that they had built together, but their presence and voices were absent.

    All of a sudden, it was much too quiet in the house. Tsuki gritted her teeth, stepping back and forth in the same spot as too many new ideas and old memories swarmed her mind at once. She wanted to keep quiet and still with Keahi, but she wanted to distract herself by going out and doing something. She still didn’t want to be around anyone else though, even if she wanted to risk going outside for some fresh air. She had never bonded with someone like this before, only to have them torn away from her, and she didn’t know how she was supposed to act. Was she doing what she should be? Should she have gone out right away to try to bring them back instead of laying here and doing nothing?

    She missed them.

    Finally, she managed to relax again, releasing the tension in her that had been building up. She stared down at the floor, before lifting her head again and meeting Edgar’s gaze. He had been hovering around her again, watching carefully with his glowing red eye. She stared back at it, trying to gauge how he was feeling in what was nearly an expressionless face, hidden under the skull mask. Looking away again, she gave him a small nod before padding back into their living room area.

    Looking over the bookshelf, Tsuki reread all the titles of the books and board games they owned. There was a short moment of temptation to play one of the games, for old time’s sake, but she knew it wouldn’t be the same with just the three of them, and she doubted Keahi was in the for that mood anyway.

    At the top of the piece of the shelf, was the stack of sketches that had always been there, only moved to be looked over again or to add another piece of paper and sort them properly. Curiosity and the pain of familiarity urged her to pull them down to the floor and look through them. Scared to accidentally rip them, she ended up dropping the entire stack, causing all the papers to scatter across the floor.

    Somehow, the mess of the drawings spread out to be looked at was comforting; just to be able to look out at all of them scattered out around them. While she couldn’t pinpoint why this was, she was thankful for this moment of calmness, especially after that overwhelming moment only a minute earlier. She hadn’t seen many of the art before, and now made sure to take her time in looking them over. It was evident how much effort and heart had been put into these, making Tsuki realize that she liked it so much in this moment because she could almost feel her friend with her through the work that was left behind. Plus, they were talented drawings, and seeing them could put the faces in her mind, in a more comforting way than before.

    The sound of the papers hitting the ground had also attracted the attention of the other two pokemon in the house; Keahi lifting up her head to look over the drawings, and Edgar floating over them as well. For a moment, they could all silently look over the art scattered around the room. Edgar, for one, hadn’t seen any of them before, and was hovering around to study all of them in the time they had here. Keahi, had likely seen many of them, but was now looking them over again as well.

    Then, memories came flooding back all over again and Keahi began to cry once more. Making sure not to step on any of the papers, Tsuki hurried back over to the torchic.

    “Here… it’s getting late anyway, let’s go upstairs,” Tsuki mumbled, scooping up the small chick in a paw like she had before.

    Carefully over the papers again, they headed upstairs; which had never had the chance to be filled with any other items or furniture aside from the team members’ various beds. She set Keahi back down on the torchic’s nest nest, but barely got a couple steps away before she heard the torchic stumble into the other nearby nest instead. Tsuki didn’t stop her, and continued on her own towards her mat. Edgar followed behind them, bringing the still half-full cup of water with him in case Keahi ever changed her mind about it.

    Outside the windows they had up here, she could see the sunset nearing its end, the bright colors in the sky fading and darkening, turning to night. Tsuki only paused for a moment to look out of them, before continuing her way to the other end of the upper floor. The hammock still hung at the back of the room, and she couldn’t help but approach it instead of her sleeping spot. She placed her forelegs on its edge, feeling as the fabric sagged under her weight. Immediately, her claws fell through the holes between the netting that pulled this bed together, and she tugged herself free, putting all four feet on the floor again.

    Finally turning to the purple mat that was her bed, Tsuki collapsed onto it, suddenly feeling drained all over again. However, not enough so to sleep. Dread swept through her as she realized that she had slept the night before, and so it would be incredibly difficult to sleep if she wanted to, which she did, since it would pass the time without forcing her to think about everything. Edgar floated up beside her again, looking down at the absol expectantly.

    “Do… do you need to sleep?” Tsuki asked him quietly.

    “No,” Edgar answered, “most ghost-types don’t have the necessities other types do, and duskulls are part of that grouping. I sleep sometimes to help regain energy, but that doesn’t come up often,” he continued, “do you sleep?”

    “Sometimes,” Tsuki responded, “dark-types need sleep every few nights, and… well, we can have a hard time getting sleep when we still have energy.”

    “Oh, I see,” Edgar replied, “I’ll stay up with you then!”

    Tsuki nodded, shifting her position and resting her head on her paws, staring blankly ahead at the empty wall. She went silent again, simply waiting for time to slowly pass on by. She tried letting her mind zone out in the darkness; if she didn’t think too much about it, she could even just pretend that nothing had ever changed.

    “I can’t cry.”

    Tsuki blinked, looking over at Edgar again, who was nervously rubbing his hands together.

    “I… can’t cry. No duskull can, and I’m not even sure if our evolves can. I didn’t see many of the dusclops often, and we’ve never had a dusknoir in the tower. It’s, uh, kind of hard to when… we don’t have an actual eye,” he added.

    “Oh.”

    That did make sense; Tsuki just hadn’t thought of it. She had to admit that she had found his continued calm attitude throughout all this slightly off-putting; which now made her feel guilty that she hadn’t considered how that would work for him. She had just excused it as his own way of coping, and tried not to be bitter about it.

    “I just… felt I should mention it. It must look like I don’t care sometimes; it’s hard to express emotions like some of you. But I do care. I really do. I didn’t even know them for a day… but you guys became my best friends so fast… I really miss them,” he continued, “it hurts. I… I almost wish I could cry. Maybe that would help… make me feel better. Is that… how that works?”

    “What?”

    “Would crying let out some of the pain?”

    “Oh… I suppose it can help, yes… It is considered more helpful than holding everything in.”

    “Ah…”

    “But, Edgar?”

    “Hm?”

    “Thank you, for still helping us out. You kept making sure we were doing alright, respecting our silence, and answering the door every time one of the citizens knocked. You didn’t have to do all that, especially since you’re dealing with pain too, but you did. So, thanks for your continued help,” Tsuki told Edgar.

    “Oh! Well, of course I would help,” Edgar responded, his tone sounding as if he didn’t believe there had been another option. “You guys are my friends too. And besides, it does keep me distracted if I’m doing more than… nothing,” he added.

    “Regardless, you have my thanks,” Tsuki replied.

    Edgar’s eye glowed brighter, almost his way of smiling, as Tsuki had noticed. The conversation faded to a silence, more comfortable than the silence of before, and she rested her head on her paws again to try relaxing. It wasn’t long before she also took note of Keahi falling asleep, and she felt relieved that at least the torchic would get some rest now.

    “Tsuki!”

    She looked over at the duskull again, who was staring ahead intently towards Keahi. Tsuki followed his gaze, but found nothing out of the ordinary that would cause his tone to be so urgent.

    “What is it?” Tsuki questioned, turning back to Edgar with a look of puzzlement.

    “You don’t see it?” Edgar asked, the red orb in the eye socket shifting from the absol back to towards the torchic.

    “Nothing appears to have changed from before, so I suppose that I do not see ‘it’,” Tsuki sighed.

    “Oh, I thought you would…” Edgar responded, “there’s a spirit here; it’s Gardevoir,” he continued.

    “Gardevoir?” Tsuki repeated, sitting upright and looking intently over in Keahi direction again, still spotting nothing there.

    “Yeah! It’s odd, last time I could actually see her, but now she’s just a light… but I can still sense that it’s her,” Edgar commented.

    “Ah, well I cannot sense spirits. Just… just disasters, and dangers,” Tsuki murmured.

    “Then maybe it’s good that you can’t sense her! You can’t sense miracles, can you?” Edgar exclaimed.

    Tsuki blinked, “no, I cannot. Perhaps that is for the better, if Gardevoir is here to help us,” she replied quietly, “a miracle…” she repeated under her breath.

    Keahi woke up in an empty green void.

    At first, she was confused, slowly standing up and trying to figure out her surroundings and how she might have gotten here in the first place. Then, it occurred to her that this was the void that Nelvana mentioned being in when speaking with Gardevoir. Urgency filled her instead, as she sought out the psychic-type, finally spotting them appear not too far away.

    “Gardevoir!” Keahi called out, rushing over to her. “Please… please tell me that you found a way to bring them back,” she pleaded.

    Gardevoir offered the torchic a small smile, “hello there Keahi, it is nice to finally meet you. I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but I do have some good news about it. Yes, there is a way to bring them back.”

    “Really?” Keahi gasped, hope surging through her with this answer.

    Gardevoir nodded, “I spoke to Dialga about it, and they have told me that they can bring Nelvana, Alex, and Ceebee back for all they have done to help save time. Under certain requirements, that I am sure that you meet anyway, so that is of no concern.”

    “Certain requirements?” Keahi repeated.

    “Yes. To bring someone back from a state like this, you must feel a powerful gratitude for them, and so must they. You must feel strong compassion to them, and if you wish very hard… you might see them again,” Gardevoir explained, “I have seen your bond to your teammates though, and I can sense it even now. You should have no worries about meeting this requirement. I only had to explain this to you do you could push this bond to show to Dialga.”

    “Really? Thank you! Thank you so much Gardevoir!” Keahi exclaimed, tears almost springing to her eyes again. “I… I was so scared that I could never see them again…”

    Gardevoir crouched down to the torchic, gently tracing a finger along one of her head feathers, “I would not have allowed that, don’t worry. I will have to go back to Dialga to speak to them about this, but if all goes well, they should be able to return soon.”

    “Thank you…” Keahi repeated, and then paused. “Is… Is there a catch to this?”

    “A catch? Oh no, of course not!” Gardevoir responded, but then her smile fell slightly. “Ah, well… I suppose you should know; your three friends are the only ones that will be able to return. No one else from the future has any connection to the present pokemon, and will therefor be unable to ever return.”

    “What will happen to them?” Keahi asked.

    “Some may get another chance at a new life, some may move on to the afterlife… and some may be truly erased. I’m not sure. Regardless, you will have to live with the knowledge that not everyone can be saved like this. Any family or other friends that your friends may have there… will have to be left behind,” Gardevoir continued.

    “Oh…” Keahi murmured, “well… if there is nothing I can do about that, I suppose that I’ll have to accept it, right? Maybe we can find something later, but for now…”

    “You would like your friends back, of course,” Gardevoir finished with a soft smile. “If that is it then, I’ll have to return to Dialga with this answer. I hope that everything works out soon, thank you for having this talk with me, Keahi.”

    Keahi smiled back, “thank you for talking to me, and thank you for helping us with this. We’ll have to repay the favor sometime soon.”

    “I’m not quite sure how you would do that, or if you can, but thank you for the offer,” Gardevoir replied, “oh, one last thing… This will likely be the last time that I am able to speak to any of you for a long time.”

    “What? Why?” Keahi questioned.

    “I have used up a lot of my energy recently, and will need to spend awhile recovering. Plus, my duty as a spirit guide for Nelvana is technically over since she completed her mission, so that might complicate things further,” Gardevoir explained, “we’ll have to see.”

    “Ah… Well, thank you again, for everything,” Keahi replied.

    Gardevoir stood up again, “thank you, Keahi. And goodbye.”

    Keahi opened her eyes, the light of the morning sun creeping into the room. She blinked her eyes open, looking around the upper floor, already absent from her other two teammates, who were presumably downstairs. As her mind caught up with the message from the dream, she was energized by her continued hope; and she scrambled out of the nest and down the stairs, almost tripping in her haste to exit the house. She hurried out onto the path, pacing around in anticipation for something to happen.

    Slowly, disappointment began to set in as nothing did happen. The trail was the same as it always has been; it was quiet, and empty aside from Keahi herself in the early morning. She stared up into the sky, still desperately hoping for her wish to come true.

First: In which the human is transformed Next: In which the lost are found back home Previous: In which it is time for goodbyes

[johnkatier]

(a chapter from a post kh3 au fic i have)

 A week and a half after their departure from Radiant Garden Ventus sends him a picture of him, Aqua, and Terra smiling together along with an excited message that they’re finally heading back to The Land of Departure.

A week and a half after that, he gets another message, that simply says that he’ll be visiting, and bringing some along with him.

Sora wishes he could feel something other than something akin to grief when he looks at it.

  -

  Life on Destiny Islands is slow, placid, nice (boring), after everything they’ve been through. Kairi goes back like she’s never been gone, and compared to him and Riku she really hasn’t. She’s stronger than all the boys in class now though, and part of lunch time is a line of people trying to beat her at arm wrestling (they never do). She’s having the time of her life and Sora always feels happier just watching her.

Riku is slower, hesitant, looks at everyone from their parents to their friends as if they’re too fragile to touch. As if Riku’s going to hurt them just by existing. And Sora thought they’d gotten past that, that Riku had learned to not be afraid of himself. And he has gotten better, Sora watches Riku stop flinching when Tidus throws an arm around his shoulder, sees him start sharing that smile that he and Kairi see so frequently more freely.

Beneath this sky they grew up under for so many years, around these people that are as close as family, Sora sees them both thrive and be happy.

And Sora, Sora’s fine.

(He doesn’t feel an itch beneath his skin waking up every day and going to school, coming home. He doesn’t jump at shadows, doesn’t have to restrain himself from going too hard against his classmates during gym.

He doesn’t dream of the wind in his hair as soars through space in his glider, doesn’t dream of the blood pumping in his veins as he fights through a hoard of heartless, nobodies, unversed.

Sora doesn’t do any of these things, because he’s completely okay and happy exactly where he is.)

Which is why beneath that lingering sense of foreboding, Sora absolutely does not feel the thrill of something coming, of something exciting.

Because this is the life he fought for, and it’s all he needs.

  -

  “I’m going to Play Island today,” He tells Riku and Kairi as they head home from school.

Kairi tilts her head forward leaning over to face him, “By yourself?” She asks, confused, and Sora laughs.

“Ven is coming to visit, I told him I’d meet him there.” He says, carefully not mentioning that he’s bringing someone along with him. Sora has a feeling he knows who it is, and he’d rather not admit to that just yet.

“Oh,” She replies, brightening at the mention of the other, “Really? Do you want us to go with you? I’d really love to get to know him more.”

Sora laughs, scratching his chin, “Maybe later, don’t wanna overwhelm him you know!” Kairi pouts at that but relents, leaning back so she’s facing forward once again, reaching out to grab his hand in the same movement.

There’s silence for a while longer, and then it is Riku who speaks, soft but firm. “If you ever want to talk, Sora, you know you can tell us right?”

Sora startles, confused, and Kairi’s hand grips him harder. “Riku? What are you talking about?” He questions, turning his head to look at him.

Riku shrugs, “I’m just making sure you know. Tell Ventus we say hi, okay?”

“Of course,” he agrees after a beat, feeling just slightly off kilter.

Riku smiles, soft and tender, and Sora blushes despite himself. “Alright.”

  -

  The sun is setting by the time Sora sees the distinctive light of something arriving in their world. He stares up at it, watching it twinkle and bounce before crashing into the beach around him. He stands from his spot by the shore, dusting the sand from his clothes as he walks over to meet them.

He sees them before they notice him, a split second before they notice him but even that feels just a touch too much. Vanitas’ hand wrapped around Ventus’ shoulder, presumably for balance as they rode in on his glider. He pulls apart quickly once they land, crossing his arms, but Sora notices that despite that he doesn’t pull away from the other’s space.

He grins, speeding up to meet up with them. “Hey! Over here!” He calls, laughing when Ventus jumps in the middle of putting away his armour and glider, and then harder when Vanitas turns a scowl on him.

“Sora!” Ventus exclaims as he notices him, rushing to meet him halfway, and from behind him he sees Vanitas sigh, following behind at a much more leisurely pace.

Ventus just about catapults himself at Sora and he willingly goes down, both of them tumbling down into the sand. Sora has missed him, more than words can really describe. Perhaps it is the consequence of sheltering Ventus in his heart for what was basically his whole life up to know, but Sora has missed him dearly since they separated. It wasn’t something he noticed when they were still traveling together after Sora gave him back his heart, but there is a part of him that calls to the other. It’s nice to see him again, like pieces of a puzzle slotting together.

(He wonders if this is even a small portion of how they felt. His heart twists at the thought.)

“Get up. Stop being mushy, you’re both horrible together.” Vanitas’ voice calls from above them and he watches Ventus’ face darken, lips thinning. Sora laughs harder at that, and the two of them sign in unison.

Ventus pushes himself off and gets about halfway before Vanitas reaches down and pulls them both up with a huff.

“Can we just get this over with,” Vanitas says, and it’s then that Sora notices he’s no longer wearing the black coat Sora had always seen him in. Instead wearing something that reminds Sora of the outfit he wore after his yearlong sleep, if not in different colours. He wonders where they got it from.

“Shush, it’s been awhile, give me a moment.” Ventus scowls, waving a hand at him.

“It’s been 3 weeks.” Vanitas replies, sounding near appalled.

Sora clears his throat, interrupting whatever silly argument they were about to descend into.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Oh,” Ventus says, perking up even as Vanitas stiffens, “of course!”

And so he does, recounting the events that occurred on that battlefield, and then everything that’s happened since.

  -

  “And that’s where we’re at. I’ve tried explaining it to Aqua and Terra but they won’t listen. I know what he did was wrong, and I know personally how cruel Vanitas can be but they don’t… he didn’t…” Ventus sighs looking away, and from beside him Vanitas face twists. “It doesn’t help that despite everything me and Vanitas are still learning to get along. He’s er,” he laughs awkwardly,” irritating, you know.”

“And the feelings mutual,” Vanitas scoffs.

“But also not!” Ventus replies.

“… Right.” Vanitas says after a moment, looking just a tad flustered, and Sora manages to not let a laugh out at the expression.

“But what do you want me to do about it?” He asks, tilting his head. They wouldn’t have come all the way here just to tell him this.

“Well… The Land of Departure is kind of big, or at least big enough that for a while we were able to hide Vanitas in the tower. But then Aqua found him, reacted predictably, and Vanitas didn’t even consider not fighting back.”

“She’s one of the only people to actually make it a challenge,” Vanitas interrupts, not sounding apologetic in the least.

“Time and place.” Ventus hisses before shaking his head, “Regardless. That obviously didn’t go over well, and ever since then Vanitas hasn’t needed to hide but…”

“His friends hate me and it’s making the place real downer to be in.” Vanitas cuts in when Ventus’ pause drags on too long.

“Yeah…” Ventus agrees hesitantly. “So I was hoping that maybe you could take him in for a bit? Riku and Kairi might be a bit more accepting of him, they don’t have the personal experience at least. Or at least, anywhere would be better than the tower where…”

“Your friends keep glaring at me and Aqua has threatened to kill me at least three times.” Vanitas finishes with a wicked grin as Ventus shudders.

“That. I’m also hoping that maybe without Vanitas there I can at least get them to consider it.” Ventus says, looking so lost and forlorn for just a moment.

“They’re right to be wary, you know.” Vanitas says casually, and it’s Ventus who scowls this time.

“You’re not all bad!” He says forcefully, not quite a shout, “Just like I’m not all good, we’re just people… we’re just human.”

Silence settles between them, and neither Vanitas nor Ventus will look at each other.

“No problem,” Sora replies as the silence stretches, “I don’t think my mom will mind, and you’re both always welcome here, my home is your home!”

Ventus reaches forward, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug once again, “Sora thank you so much.”  He says shakily, and Sora hopes he isn’t crying.

Ventus stays for a bit longer, but eventually has to bid them goodbye, he hadn’t actually told Aqua or Terra he was coming aside from leaving a note, so the two must be out of their mind with worry. He looks suitably terrified, a look that worsens when he notices both Sora and Vanitas are watching him with matching grins.

“Alright!” Sora says brightly as Ventus’ glider disappears into the stars above, “Let’s go home!”

Vanitas watches him for a moment, and then sighs, gesturing for him to lead the way.

Sora does, gladly.

  -

  His mother greets him with a smile, one that freezes for a moment when she sees Vanitas, before brightening up again.

“A friend,” She says calmly, already striding into the kitchen. Sora motions at Vanitas to close the door and then turns back to follow her.

“Yeah! He’s having some trouble over on his world, would it be alright if he stayed with us?”

She laughs, soft behind her palm, reaching up into the cupboards to grab some tea. “Your friends are always welcomed here, you know that. Stay as long as you like, ah, Sora you didn’t introduce him!”

“The names Vanitas,” He calls from the door, watching his mother warily as she puts water to boil.

His mother hums as she places cups around the table. “Oh that’s so long, can I call you Vani? It’s much cuter you know.”

Vanitas sputters at the statement, and his mother holds her placid smile for a few seconds before descending into laughter. Sora joins in and Vanitas looks between the two of them caught somewhere between annoyance and confusion.

“No need to fret Vanitas, I’m just kidding around.” His mother says as her laughter settles, turning back towards the cupboards to grab something, “Come, both of you, sit, we can have a small snack before bed.”

He shifts, scratching the back of his neck, “Oh mom that’s okay I’m sure Vanitas is tired.”

“Nonsense,” His mother says immediately, firmly, placing a tray of cookies on the table. “You promised you’d keep no more secrets, that you’d tell no more lies.”

“Yeah but –”

“And I think that involves telling me why you brought home a boy that looks just like my son, but darker.” She frowns. “Sadder.”

“Mom -”

“Tell me.” She says flatly, and the kettle whistles loudly into the silence that settles between them.

And so he does.

  -

  “I get it now.” Vanitas says as he throws open the door to Sora’s room, taking one look around before scowling and sitting crossed-legged on his bed.

“Get what?” He asks, moving over to his closet to get out the spare futon from his closet. They have a spare room, but it’s just full of random junk right now, he’ll have to clean it out soon.

Vanitas gestures vaguely at him, “I just get it. You’re mothers just like you.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He says cautiously.

“Too trusting, too kind, so willing to see the good in others.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” Sora says stubbornly. Sora’s no idiot, he knows some people can be beyond the point of redemption, Xehanort and Maleficent for example. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to see the best in people, even after they’ve done wrong. Because everyone can have a good in them if they believe, if they look for it.

Vanitas speaks, Sora thinks, but it’s too quiet to hear.

“Did you say something?”

Vanitas stills, and then falls backwards onto Sora’s bed. “I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother me or you’ll regret it.”

  -

  He stays home from school the next day, and though his mother tuts she says nothing about his truancy. She helps him clean the guest room and they both say nothing of Vanitas watching them both silently from his place on the floor.

There’s a worried text from Ventus on his phone, asking if Vanitas settled in okay, if his mother was alright with everything, if he’d told Riku and Kairi yet. Sora answers each question patiently, and then tells Ventus to go talk to Aqua and Terra because Vanitas is perfectly safe here. His phone chimes immediately with a reply and Sora shakes his head, sending a disappointed face emoji at Ventus’ jumbled keysmash of a reply. While he’s at it, he texts Riku and Kairi to tell them to head to Play Island afterschool, and then drags Vanitas off.

There’s something he wants to do now that he has the time.

  -

  It had taken almost nothing to convince Vanitas to spar with him, which Sora appreciated.

“It won’t be spar.” Vanitas had said, already summoning his keyblade, “I won’t hold back so you better be prepared.”

He grinned, that was exactly what he had been hoping for, he thinks, as Vanitas sends another quick barrage of dark magic at him, followed by a swift hit from behind before Sora can even grasp his bearings.

He flips with the momentum, landing crouched on the beach but standing at least.

“Had enough?” Vanitas asks from where he had attacked him from, and even with the distance Sora can make out his smirk clear as day.

“Not even close,” Sora says with a grin and Vanitas eyes narrow, smirk sharpening.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Vanitas says as he warps out of view.

He shifts his grip on his keyblade, laughing despite himself.

Oh, it’s on.

  -

  (Sora won’t admit this (because it’s not true, he doesn’t, he doesn’t) but he hasn’t been able to settle right, not the way Riku and Kairi have. A part of him still yearns for something to fight, something to run after.

Sora’s been chasing something for so long that he doesn’t know what to do now that he can stay still.

Training isn’t enough, and neither is sparring. Kairi though strong and willing to fight doesn’t have the experience or stamina to keep going after awhile. Riku could but he always draws back after he decides is enough, isn’t willing to go far enough to scratch the itch of something Sora keeps looking for.

So sparring with Vanitas, who doesn’t so much as spar as much as fights. Like this is a real battle, like there’s actually something to lose.

Sora’s ashamed to say that he’s almost missed it, or felt something akin to that.)

  -

  “You’re just all kinds of fucked up aren’t you?” Vanitas says, both of them laying down in the sand panting after their fight. “Just like Ventus, just like me.”

Sora doesn’t reply, thinking instead that none of them really got out of this okay.

He sighs, closing his eyes and listening to the gentle crashing of the waves on the shore, and isn’t entirely sure when consciousness slips away as he falls asleep.

  -

  He awakes to yelling and he startles, jumping to attention immediately, keyblade summoned as he whirls around trying to spot the danger.

“What’s happening, is anyone hurt, I –”

“Sora!” Riku’s voice calls, cutting through his mini-tirade. He blinks, turning to see Riku standing a fair distance away his arm extended to block Kairi from approaching. He turns his head, seeing Vanitas seated crosslegged on the ground, chin in one hand. He shrugs when he sees Sora’s gaze on him, before rolling his eyes, and gesturing vaguely over at the two of them.

“Explanation time.” He says blithely, and Sora realises he has no idea what he’s supposed to say here? Did either of them ever even see him without the mask? Do they even recognise him?

“Sora what is he doing here?” Riku spits, enough venom in his voice to make it clear he knows exactly who’s sitting next to him. That answers that question.

“You know him?” Sora asks, idiotically, because for some reason that seems to be the most pressing concern to him.

Riku sighs, bringing one hand to his face, and Kairi pats his arm consolingly.

“Yes. We all saw his face during the battle, Ventus took off fighting before we could really process it but… you don’t forget that.” Riku replies, sounding just a bit pained at the end.

Kairi shifts turning to look at him, then Vanitas, and then back to him smiling cautiously. “Sora?”

He turns towards Vanitas, who raises an eyebrow, “Don’t look at me. This was that idiot Ventus’s idea, and you agreed.”

“It’s not what it looks like.” Sora says after a pause and both Riku and Kairi groan. “What!” He exclaims indignantly.

“It never is with you.” Riku says, somewhere between annoyed and fond.

Kairi laughs, “So tell us, we promise to listen!”

Vanitas mutters something under his breath, and Sora laughs hard enough that he reaches his arm out to hit him in the leg and Sora gasps, still snickering as he begins to explain.

  -

  It’s easier for them to understand, Sora thinks, because they don’t know Vanitas as personally as the Ventus, Aqua, and Terra do. Vanitas was just someone on the other side, someone else Xehanort took and twisted for his own needs. And just like the original members of the organization deserved a second chance, it’s easier for them to see that maybe Vanitas does to.

But they did not know him back then, neither did Sora, but he knows enough. Vanitas was cruel, uncaring, fought like he had nothing to lose uncaring of what happened as long as he came out on top, as long as someone other than him was hurting.

Vanitas was desperate, and like a cornered animal lashed out in anger and defiance.

Still, he doesn’t blame Aqua and Terra for their hesitance. Still, he hopes they eventually come around, for Ventus’ sake if nothing else.