#this isn't a spoiler for my fic it's just my overall thoughts in summary of his journey but the tears were flowing & then this happened lol

[rebellionmoon]

Shower thoughts are crying about Illumi Zoldyck, specifically his healing journey from trauma. That even though he was able to withstand the horrors of his childhood, it didn't leave him unscathed. He survived. As momentous as it is making it to the other side, his life is not easier and he still has to live with the effects of what happened to him; how it irrevocably changed his life and his loved ones had to learn and adapt with him. His abuser and what they did no longer define him. He couldn't forgive and forget, and whenever he looks at that person he is always reminded of what happened, but he had to keep living his life. Illumi still has days where it's just hard and he's just gotta trudge through them. Sometimes he just has to stop and rest, (and Psyche holds him accountable and makes sure he does get what he needs, and he does the same for her) Healing isnt linear, it's messy, full of relapses, and on some days he feels defeated, but life is better than before, happier than before, and he's glad he's still here.

This man isn't even real and I'm a sobbing mess. like why. I didn't even write the entirety of his healing journey in my fic yet, but it's all written down in my head and i'm so happy for him. Go king, commit atrocities, be happy, live and prosper <3

[changbunnies]

Connected (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight!Bang Chan x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: angst, fluff, royal au, historical au, knight x princess au, arranged marriage (for reader), forbidden love, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining (they are so oblivious)

♡ Word Count: 15.9k (oops lmao)

♡ Summary: Y/N, as princess of the kingdom, is destined to marry for politics and financial gain, but all she wants is to marry for love. Chan, her childhood friend turned royal knight, has to either come to terms with her inevitable marriage, or finally confess the feelings he's been harboring for years.

♡ Warnings: very brief minho x reader, extremely jealous chan, also lowkey possessive chan, (he's not in any toxic way at all but still), reader is implied to be plus size, old timey traditions and expectations of women to suit the setting, i think thats about it ??

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (princess (mostly as a title), darling, my love) loss of virginity (both reader and chan are virgins), nipple play, fingering (f rec), unprotected piv, creampie, overall very soft sex with some shyness and teasing sprinkled in, breeding kink if you squint

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my a03 here and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams ! and thank you so much for all the love my works have gotten so far, i appreciate it sm !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

A sigh passes your lips as you stare out at the sprawling nature before you from up on your balcony. The sight of trees swaying in the wind, flowers blooming towards the sun, and animals skittering about on the earth below always helped to ease your troubled mind.

You always found yourself here when the worries of life and your duty proved too much for you. As the kingdom’s heir to the throne, you weren't often afforded the luxury of leaving your castle, or dirtying your soles by prancing in the nearby forest. 

Instead, you often had to settle for the next best thing– simply observing it. Normally that was enough for you, but on days like today, where you were constantly bombarded with responsibility and expectations, you wished you could flee into the forest and never look back. It would be difficult to flee your life, but surely it would be better than this. You were tired of feeling so stifled all the time. 

"All that sighing isn't going to help, Princess," a familiar voice speaks from the doorway of your bedroom. "I know that," you frown, turning to look at your childhood friend turned royal knight with crossed arms and a glare on your face.

You know Chan doesn’t mean to add to your frustration, and normally you wouldn’t snap at him over a comment made in jest, but you're really in no mood for it right now. You’ll apologize later when you’re less quick to anger; right now, you are currently too stuck in your feelings to respond kindly. 

It'd been a week since you were informed of your inevitable marriage, and you still hadn’t come to terms with it to any degree. Your father, the current King, informed you that the eligible men who desired your hand would be arriving later in the month, and how you were expected to be on your best "womanly" behavior when meeting your suitors for the first time. You knew it would happen someday but you still loathed the idea of it.. It made you feel like an object, like a pawn to be used rather than a person with her own thoughts and feelings. 

"My apologies Princess, but you've been really down these past few days. I thought you might enjoy some company," Chan explains with his perfectly rehearsed politeness that you haven't quite gotten used to hearing yet. "Stop calling me Princess when it's just the two of us, it's unnecessary," you complain while Chan looks at you with a playful smile. 

"Very well, Princess," he teases in response, laughing when you scowl at him for it. Chan has been your knight for a little over a year now, and while you did enjoy having him around more often, the tone shift from friend to knight was jarring. There were times where you missed your old dynamic, when he'd speak to you with no pleasantries or titles (though it did often incur the wrath of your attendants for being 'disrespectful' to the princess.)

You never found him disrespectful however; you actually quite liked that he always spoke to you candidly and without pretenses. Even as a kid you'd noticed the way commoners treated you differently from everyone else, and you liked that Chan didn't. Though he was just a child like yourself at the time, and most likely did not realize the impact it had on you, you enjoyed being able to feel like a normal person. 

He was often on the castle grounds due to his parents, his mother a maidservant and his father a horseman. And while he was never supposed to have met you due to the difference in station, you two often found yourselves in each other's path.

You learned to ride horses together under his father's tutelage, he would accompany his mother around the castle as she cleaned various rooms, and he’d always wave to you with a goofy smile while you were studying (even if it ended in a scolding from the adults around him.)

You had quickly become fond of him, your only friend in an otherwise lonely world. You can remember fondly the days where he would distract you from your lessons by making silly gestures behind your tutors' backs, and how he’d gift you trinkets from outside the castle’s walls, such as cheap dolls and freshly picked flowers. 

They were “plain” by royal standards, but you still loved them dearly, as they were things you had never had in your life until he brought them to you. He would even bring delicious pastries and fresh bread made by his mother, which had become your favorite things to eat simply because it was so different from everything else you were allowed to have. 

Chan steps onto the balcony, taking his place next to you. He leans against the banister, staring out at the scenery that held your attention moments ago. "I don't want you to get married yet either," he admits after a brief moment of silence. You look at him, taking in the sullen expression on his face. You are initially surprised he looks so sad, allowing you to catch a glimpse at his usually hidden vulnerability.

You know very well that he, like anyone, is capable of feeling a depth of complex emotions, but he rarely shows you that side of himself. You spend so much of your days stressed or tired or daydreaming about being anything other than what you are, so he chooses not to burden you with any feelings he has. You've told him many times that he could, even encouraged him to share with you, but he always said he'd rather focus on making you feel better because that would make him feel better too. 

“You don’t..?” you ask, though you wonder what you are even expecting to hear in response. He’s your best friend and he cares about your feelings, so obviously he doesn’t want to see you go through something you hate. It obviously it saddens him to see a friend hurting– but despite yourself, you still hope for his feelings to go beyond that. 

You want to hear him say he cares about your inevitable marriage not as a concerned best friend, but as a man. A man who loves you, a man who wants you, a man who would fight for your hand in marriage against all odds. It's foolish, you know this, but you can’t stop yourself but hoping for it. 

Your heart ignores the logic your brain provides, disregarding that he'll never be allowed to marry you even if he did have romantic feelings for you and was willing to fight against tradition for you. It doesn't matter that he has devoted his life to protecting you, that he's extremely well read or gifted in combat, or that he grew up within the same castle walls that you have. He will always be "beneath you", his merits never good enough, all because he was born to commoners. 

You always hated that. Why do the circumstances of someone's birth have to matter so much? Why does fate have to be decided based on what family you are born into?

And you can still remember vividly the day you realized you cared for him as more than just the best friend you grew up with. When he stood before you, handsome in his weathered training armor and practice sword in hand, smiling proudly as he devoted his life to your care, your heart fluttered.

Chan worked hard to be your knight, practiced with his sword to the point of exhaustion, spent countless hours reading about affairs between nations and studying combat techniques, all to be the one who protects you. He dedicated his life to you, to being by your side through everything, even if it meant putting his personal affairs on hold. 

There were times where you still didn’t understand why he sacrificed so much of his freedom for you. The life you lived was so stuffy and restricting, and he could do anything. He could do whatever he wanted with life, live anywhere in the world, choose from a myriad of careers, yet he chose to be stuck in the castle with you for the rest of his youth. 

The day you turned 14, you confessed to him that you were dreading the day you both became adults because you knew your lives would take you different places. Even if he followed in his father’s footsteps and became the castle's horseman, you'd likely rarely, if ever, see him. It was something you thought about a lot, as you were often reminded by your elders of your responsibilities to the kingdom, but that day it was hitting you particularly hard. 

That day sticks firmly in Chan's head as well; he can still remember the way tears pricked the corners of your eyes, the reality of getting older and the responsibilities that were soon to follow already bearing heavily on you.

That was the day he decided he’d work hard to always be near you, as he never wanted to see you cry over his separation from you. If there was no reason for him to stay, he would make one. If it meant freedom and choice was taken from him, he was willing to let those things go. If it was for you, it would be worth it.

When you asked him why he decided to become a knight despite the sacrifice and responsibility it entailed, why he was willing to give up so much to stay in the castle with you, he simply smiled at you. “It’s where I am meant to be,” he replied, dimples lighting up his face in an expression so sweet it made your stomach flip. 

You fell in love with him that day. Or maybe you always loved him, and that was the day you fully realized it. That intangible feeling that always lingered whenever you looked at him, that you couldn’t hold and understand but knew was there. It was love, all that time. You knew it then, and you still know it now. Chan is the only person you will ever love. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon comforting you, as he always does when you are feeling unhappy and indignant. Giving you kind words or gentle, comforting silence when you need it, transitioning into his goofy side who makes jokes and does his best to make you laugh as soon as you show that you are feeling better. 

And it does help, but in a way it also makes it worse. Because unbeknownst to him, he’s just reaffirming your love for him. For every gesture that endears you to him, it also makes your heart sink even further. And worse of all, you can’t even be upset about it– because he doesn’t know your feelings, he doesn’t know how his kindness feels akin to a knife in your gut. 

And it’s likely he’ll never know. Because when can you tell him? How can you tell him? It’s not meant to be, and it never will be. For as long as you are royalty, he’ll never be allowed to love you, and you’ll never be allowed to love him. The sooner you accept it the better off you’ll be, but you don’t know if you ever can. 

How do you make yourself stop loving someone so perfect? How do you put aside your feelings, how do you pretend that they never existed in the first place? You’re lost, you’re stuck, and you know nothing will change it.

You suppose the best you can do is enjoy the little time you have remaining. Live in the moment with him instead of worrying so much about the future, because once it’s here you won’t be able to get this time back. 

That’s why you smile for him, earnestly. You laugh with him the way you always do, you reminisce about your childhoods, you talk about all your favorite things instead of wallowing in what you hate. You don’t allow yourself to frown or cry until he’s gone for the night, the setting of the sun beckoning him out of your room and to his own. 

You cry as you wash off the day's grime in the bath, you cry as you towel off in front of the mirror, and you cry as you lie in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you think about all the joy you will never have.

Because you will lose Chan before you ever even had him. Never being allowed to hold his hand, to kiss him, to lie with him.. Because he is your knight, and a princess isn’t supposed to fall in love with one. 

It’d been over a month since your suitors first started arriving at the castle to meet you, settling into their guest rooms and (frustratingly) occupying your days. You were as respectful as you were expected to be, but you really didn’t put in any effort to get to know them more deeply. You just weren’t interested in any romantics with them. 

If the situation were different, and these were men you were meeting with the prospect of friendship or strengthening ties between allied kingdoms platonically, you would be much more susceptible to the pleasantries. As it stands now, you can’t put yourself out there for them the way you are expected to. 

Most of them seem nice enough, and for the ones with gentler personalities you do feel bad for your standoff-ish attitude, but showing your disinterest firmly is the best way to not give anyone false hopes. You know you won’t fall in love with any of them, and wouldn’t it be worse to lead them on by having no backbone? 

Sure, you could be a bit nicer, but why would you be? They are all here with the intention to marry you, they all have a goal in mind– to win you over by any means necessary. Even if they had the purest of intentions, it wouldn’t sway you to change your mind so easily.

At the end of the day, no matter who is here for a chance at genuine love and who is here for political gain, you are being treated like an object, and it’s something you detest with your entire being. And even leaving aside your feelings for Chan (which undeniably also plays a part in your disdain for your situation), you still wouldn’t enjoy this process.

Maybe it was your own fault for idolizing fairytales and spending your free time daydreaming about what your perfect life would look like, but what can you say? You’re a hopeless romantic, even to a fault, it seems. Is it truly so bad for you to want genuine love with someone? A love that happens organically, unforced by any outside factors pushing for it? 

And now here you are, letting your maids prepare your attire and dress for tonight’s ball, where you will be expected to mingle with and accept the advances of your suitors, even if it is performative in nature. You try your best not to scowl in disapproval when your maids talk excitedly about your “romances”, who they think is most handsome out of your suitors, and who they hope you will choose. 

You wish you could scream out, “I choose none! I don’t want to marry any of them!” You’d gladly let these girls take their pick of the men who came for you. It seems that the fan favorite, as it were, is Sir Minho, the handsome son to Duke Lee in the western lands. Apart from being attractive, he’s well-mannered, compassionate with animals, and skilled in battles of wit. 

If you were being truthful, he was an easy pick. He was easily the most desirable of every suitor, not just from a personal standpoint, but also from a political standpoint. Keeping relations with the west positive would lower chances of revolt or separation into their own independent nation.

Yes, if you were smart and not at all stubborn, you would most certainly pick Minho. But stubborn you undeniably were; opinions firm and unbending, resistant to compromise or sacrifice.

And honestly, shouldn’t that be expected? Why wouldn’t the princess, who is capable of having everything material she ever wanted, not be selfish when it comes to love? You like to think yourself a reasonable person, one who makes sound decisions and goes through life with a firm sense of rationality. However, when it comes to Chan, all rational thought and decision making seems to leave you, replaced solely by emotion. 

Your heart overtakes you, arguing fiercely with your rational and intelligent brain, as if making the logical, sensible choice would be foolish despite the reality being the opposite. You let out a sigh, that your maids thankfully mistake as one of exhaustion. While you arguably had the easiest job in the room, just sitting around and letting others doll you up, it was still tiring in its own right. 

Layers upon layers of petticoats, chemises, and skirts, tight garters to hold up your stockings, squeezing into a corset and then adding even more layers on top of that.. If the end result wasn’t so gorgeous, you’d absolutely hate this process. And god forbid you needed to use the bathroom at any point– that endeavor in itself was hellish. 

After the grueling task of fitting you into your finest royal blue ensemble, your hair and makeup came next. You begged for it to be on the simpler side, as you would be occupied for hours tonight and really didn't want to worry about keeping it pristine the entire time, and they thankfully obliged the request. There’s a few moments of downtime when they are finished, which gives you time to breathe and prepare yourself mentally for the night’s festivities. 

There is a knock on the door, which the maids closest to the door don’t hesitate to open. It’s Chan, of course, as it’s his job to come collect you whenever it’s necessary for you to leave your room. That’s another reason this night you’re upset about tonight– you wish you could walk together to the ballroom as a couple, instead of as a knight and princess.

“It is time to go, Princess. The guests have begun arriving in the ballroom,” he says, keeping his gaze professional under the watchful eyes of the maids in the room. 

But God, is that hard for him. You're so unbelievably beautiful it makes his heart feel like it's twisting in his chest. He’s lucky that no one in the room seemed to notice the way it stole his breath away, or the way his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they should have before he directed you to follow him out of the door. 

You thank your maids for their help before you depart, and they all say some variation of “have fun!” as you leave the room. “Fun” is doubtful in this scenario, but you’ll certainly try to not be miserable. Try being the keyword– you make no such promises of how things will actually play out. 

You put on the best smile you can manage when you enter the room, letting various guests greet you, briefly indulging them in small talk before Chan helps you move your way past them. You take a seat next to your parents, with Chan standing just a few feet away– a respectable distance as to not intrude on the royal family, but close enough to reach you quickly if something went wrong.  

As is to be expected, sticking close to your parents and away from the dancing doesn’t spare you from any attention. Those who are permitted to speak with the royal family appear to you in a near constant stream, with monotonous questions about how you’ve been and how you feel about your inevitable marriage in tow.

God, the night has just begun and you’re already tired. Is it too early to retreat back to the safety of your room? You take a quick glance around the ballroom, taking note of all the guests you have an obligation to talk to and who you could feasibly get away with staying away from.

Unfortunately, it seems like your evening will be full of talking to people you don't want to deal with. You said you'd try to have a good time, but that didn't mean you had to right this second, did it? You're definitely staying at the table for as long as possible, even if it causes your guests to think of you disfavorably (and if you're lucky, it will.) 

It's probably about two hours into the gathering when your parents seem to grow tired of you doing nothing but sitting with them at the head table. You can tell even before it happens that your mother and father have something to say about your silent protest.

"Why aren't you out there, dear?" your mother asks, taking a gentler approach despite the obvious frown of displeasure on her face. Truthfully, she understands your sadness and feels for your plight, but she can’t allow you to wallow in it.

You are very clearly sulking, proper manners ignored as you sit with crossed arms and a pout. “Don’t like to dance,” you lie, but everyone near you knows that isn’t true. 

You normally loved dancing. You would attend your dance lessons enthusiastically, and later you would sneak Chan into the ballroom to teach him everything you learned. Although he loved music and followed rhythms easily on his own, his initial steps with you were always awkward. His excuse was that he was nervous to be dancing with the princess, but you would remind him that since being the princess never made him hesitate with you before, it shouldn’t matter now.

In all honesty, a majority of his nerves came from being afraid of making a mistake in front of you. Chan could normally dance very well, often being complimented and told he was a natural at it, but doing it with you made him especially nervous. What if you felt how sweaty his palms were becoming just from having you closer than usual? What if you could hear how loudly his heart was pounding? What if the nerves made him do the steps wrong? 

He really liked you, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in your presence. Chan is often goofy, yes, but it was always willfully. He liked making you laugh and smile, but he didn’t want that side of him to be out in that moment. He found himself wanting you to see a different side of him, he wanted to impress you with how easily he picked up what you taught him, he wanted you to compliment him with your sweet voice.

To his own relief, Chan eventually managed to conquer his nerves, and he was able to pick up the steps and lead the dance without making an embarrassment of himself. Soon enough, the two of you would regularly spend hours in the ballroom together, dancing until late into the evening. With no band to play music for you, the both of you would take turns humming melodies, though you always preferred when Chan was the one doing it as his voice was so melodic and beautiful to you. 

With your memories of each shared, secret dance so clear in your mind, how can you dance with any of these men and not think of Chan? How do you look at any of them and not compare their differences? How can you be with them without thinking about how you’d rather be with Chan instead? Even if they were lovely, even if they were without flaw, they weren’t who you wanted to be with. 

You glance at Chan, who has to remain stone faced in these moments. Your parents are aware that you became friends with him well before he was inaugurated into knighthood, but they don’t realize to what extent.

They don’t know about the countless hours spent together, how you’d disregard rules to be near him, or how you’d sneak him into spaces he normally wouldn’t be allowed in. He can’t make them aware of how close the two of you truly are by reacting, and you know this well, but you still can't help but seek him out in every moment. 

Noticing you looking at him, Chan shoots you a small look of sympathy before your parents can notice, doing his best to ease you despite the restrictions. He knows you don’t want to do this, and that you hate being scolded and reminded of how “important” it is to have a “good” husband.

“Good” meaning having power, or wealth, or a prestigious lineage in this case. You don’t want to care about formalities, traditions, or responsibilities. You don’t want to prioritize superficial qualities or be in a loveless marriage purely for alliance. 

Is it really so terrible for you to just be in love with someone for who they are instead of what they have? You don’t care about what they have to offer or what legacies their families hold. You want to be with the person whose smile lights up your world. You want to be with the person who sacrificed so much just to stay within your realm. You want Chan. 

“Your suitors would love to dance with you,” your father says, “You should at least try to get along with them, don’t be stubborn. You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.” Chan watches your expression change, the mix of anger and sadness bubbling within you becoming increasingly more apparent. He wishes he could rush to your side and help, but he can't. So instead he stands in place, fists clenched in a vain effort to ground himself as he remains frozen to his spot. 

“Of course father,” you say as you stand, biting your tongue so as to not make a scene in the middle of an extravagant ball. Despite your tumultuous feelings, you're not foolish enough to disrespect the king with an audience. “I need a moment, if you’ll allow it,” you say and your father nods, finding it a reasonable enough compromise. 

You bow politely before you go despite how badly you wish you could storm out and give a bitter display of resentment. Chan moves to follow you, (which he would do even if it wasn't his job,) but your mother calls for him to wait a moment. “I’m aware my daughter is unhappy about this, but try to talk some sense into her for me, will you? I doubt she’ll listen to us, upset as she is. She may find it easier to listen to someone unattached to the situation.” 

‘Unattached.’ If only she knew Chan was terribly, terribly attached to the situation– attached to you. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he answers politely, bowing before he steps away to follow your path out of the ballroom. It doesn’t take him long to find you despite his delay leaving; he knows you well enough to know where you prefer to be when upset.

You are outside, sitting on the steps leading to the garden, arms hugging your legs with your head against your knees. You feel trapped, and looking out at nature always helps (even if in this case said nature was still confined within the castle’s walls.) You lift your head when you hear Chan’s footsteps behind you, wiping stray tears from your eyes as he approaches. “Y/N..” he speaks softly, heart tugging at him painfully; he always hated seeing you cry. 

He sits next to you, deciding comforting you was more important than worrying about who would see the two of you being close. If he gets in trouble, so be it; you need your friend right now, not your knight. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you carefully to his side. “I hate this,” you mumble with a trembling voice, burying your face in his shoulder. 

Chan swallows, trying to find the words to say. He hates it too– unbearably so. Every time he pictures you being in love with someone else it makes him physically ill. He doesn’t want to think about how devastated he’ll be hearing you say ‘I love you’ to another man, how excruciating it will be for him to watch from the sidelines while you build a future with someone he can never be. 

He knows his heart will crumble when he sees you make your eternal vows to someone else, so beautiful and demure and forever out of his reach. He made his promise to be your knight for the remainder of his days knowing this is what it would entail, but fuck, it still hurts.

Chan has always considered himself a strong and resilient person, and he felt like he could handle this inevitability, but maybe he was naive to think so; nothing could have prepared him for how painful the reality actually was. His mistake wasn’t falling in love with someone unattainable– his mistake was thinking he could survive the heartbreak.

In all his life, he’ll never regret falling in love with you or becoming the knight you need, but he’s still human. A selfish human, who wants more than he can be granted, who wants to marry his beloved princess more than any treasure or title in the world. 

Chan does his best to keep his breathing steady, not wanting to alert you that he was affected by this way more than a friend or knight should be. He thinks about what your father said to you shortly before you left the ballroom. ‘You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.’  

As much as he hated to admit it, your father had a point. And he could see why your mother wanted him to make you understand, but did he really have it in him to follow her request? Could he encourage you to try to fall in love with someone else knowing how it’d tear him apart?

It’s the last thing he ever wants to do, but devoting his life to you meant he had to put aside selfish desires. He couldn’t let his love for you cloud his judgment, he couldn’t sabotage your chance at happiness to make himself feel better. How can he be a proper knight if he puts his selfish hopes above what is best for you in the long run? 

“Listen.. I know you might not want to hear this but.. Your parents have a point. You should get to know them better,” Chan speaks cautiously, trying to prepare for whatever reaction you might have. It kills him to say it, not just because he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, but also because he knows you won’t want to hear this from him. He watches you freeze, staring at him in something akin to saddened disbelief.

You feel as if your cracked heart has now completely shattered. If there was any doubt before, now you know. Chan doesn’t love you the way you love him. He wouldn’t be okay with this if he loved you, he wouldn’t want to see you marry someone if he wanted you the way you want him. Your feelings have always been one sided. You swallow, trying not to cry any more than you already have or show how hurt that made you feel. 

“So you agree with them then..” your voice is quiet and defeated. What do you even say..? Should you admit that one of the reasons this is so hard for you is because you’re in love with him? Would that even change anything? You always knew being in love with him was a fool’s endeavor, and now that truth was solidified. 

“It’s not that. You know I don't want you to, it’s just– I know you’re miserable right now. And the reality is that you’ll have to marry one of them. If you get to know them and grow to love one of them, it’d be better for you. The way things are now, you’ll never be happy, and that's all I want for you.. Just to be happy,” he says, trying his best to show you how earnest he is.

He’s so fucking in love with you, of course he doesn’t want to see you marry someone else, it’s the last thing he ever wants. He doesn’t want to watch you fall in love with one of them, he doesn’t want to sit on the sidelines while you give your love to someone else, but he can’t keep denying the reality before him. Despite how selfish he is, he can’t put himself and what he wants above you.

And putting those selfish desires aside, he just wants you to have a good, happy life, even if that happiness comes from someone else. No matter how badly he wishes he could be the one you spend your forever with, it’s not the life that is meant for him. He has to come to terms with that, now more than ever. He has to, because it'll break him apart if he doesn't. 

You look at him now, and as much as it hurts, you can see the sincerity. Even though it’s not what you wanted to hear, you know how much he cares about you. Even now, he’s looking out for you and trying his best.

Maybe he doesn't love you the way you love him, but it is a form of love nonetheless. His actions have never shown you anything different, and even if it’s not the sort of romantic love you want it to be, you should be happy with what you already have with him.

You separate yourself from his gentle hold, standing quickly as you do your best to wipe your tears without ruining your makeup any further. “You’re right. I’ll try,” you say, forcing yourself to find the resolve you desperately need to get this night over with. He smiles at you, albeit strained as he suffers with his own tumultuous emotions, and rises to his feet as well. 

Chan gives you one last gesture of comfort, a gentle squeeze to your hand, before he leads you back to the ballroom where everyone waits for you to return. “Are you ready?” He asks when you are both stopped in front of the doors.

You sigh, taking just a small moment before you nod and allow yourself to enter the bustling room. You’re not ready, but it will never get any easier, so you suppose you’ll just have to accept that and get on with it regardless.

You leave Chan standing with your parents, where he can still have you in his line of sight while not intruding upon anything you need to do. You suppose if you’re really going to commit to this, you should go with the obvious choice– Lee Minho. It doesn’t take you long to spot him either; all you had to do was follow the gaze of infatuated maids to see him standing in a bubble with other high society guests your father invited to the event. 

“Sir Minho, are you occupied?” you ask as you step forward to him, the crowd that had gathered around him easily dissipating to allow the princess closer to her suitor. “Of course not, Princess. Would you like to dance?” he smiles politely as he holds out his arm for you, and you accept it, letting him lead you toward the center of the ballroom. 

Another thing you suppose you should do if you’re really going to commit to this is apologize. You doubt anything will genuinely come of it on your part, but it’d be best to not have a marriage start off with bitterness in your heart if it does miraculously develop into something more.

Honestly you’d rather scream and kick than offer an apology you don’t entirely mean but.. What other option is there at this point? "Listen, I'm sorry for how cold I've been towards you. It's not due to any fault of your own, it's just.."You pause briefly, trying to think of how best to continue that line of dialogue, but Minho speaks up before you can.

“It’s just that you are being forced into a marriage you don’t want?" Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you desperately try to find a way to dismiss his accurate assessment. Were you that transparent? 'Of course you were, idiot,' you curse yourself. Maybe you should've practiced subtlety.

"I get it. You aren’t the only one unhappy about this,” he continues, further surprising you. He chuckles at your shocked expression, amusement in his voice. “What, is that hard to believe?”

"I.. I guess I just assumed everyone is here because they want to be. It didn’t occur to me that you would be in a similar situation to myself,” you answer truthfully. Maybe you would have realized sooner if you hadn't been so stuck in your ways, so quick to ignore and dismiss every suitor that came close to you. 

“I don’t blame you for thinking that. I’m sure most of the men are here because they want to be. I consider myself an outlier,” Minho speaks nonchalantly, but now that you are really looking at him, you can tell he is just as unhappy to be forced into this as you are. You also get the impression that he’s good at keeping a cool exterior, likely due to years of experience at suppressing his actual desires, the same as you.

“Is there someone else? Someone you love, back at home?” you ask, and Minho smiles sadly as he nods. “There is. They mean the world to me. I asked them to wait for me, I told them I wouldn’t leave them but.. I don’t know what will happen, if I'm being honest.” He tries to mask how upset he is to admit that, but you can see it.

Maybe you’d be as oblivious to it as everyone else seemed to be if you weren’t dealing with similar emotions. You feel a strange sort of kinship with him now, realizing how parallel your situations seem to be. “I’ll make sure you can be reunited. I may not have much power as it stands now, but I can do that at least.”

Minho smiles at your reply, but shakes his head, as if your act of kindness would be futile. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it would only be temporary. I’m sure even if I don’t marry you, my father will just send me off to another castle to find a spouse. It’s all he cares about.”

You frown, about to speak reassurances or some other comforting statement, but he stops you before you can. “What about you, Princess? Is there someone you love?” Minho asks, easily shifting the focus off of himself. 

You hesitate a moment, debating on whether it would be wise for you to talk about. But, Minho already shared with you even if it could be a risk for him to admit, so.. You decide to be honest. “There is. He.. is the best person I've ever known.” 

“I thought so. Not to sound overconfident, but most women fall at their feet for a chance to speak with me,” Minho smirks and you laugh, the first genuine laugh you’ve had all evening. “Well, you are handsome. I may love someone else, but I’m not blind.” Your reply makes Minho laugh as well, the conversation turning into something you can actually enjoy.

“It’s good to know the Princess isn’t rejecting me for my looks. I can sleep assured about my handsome features tonight,” he jokes, and if you weren’t in public you’d most certainly slap him on the arm. You didn't expect his personality to be what it is, but you suppose that's one of the charms that draws people to him.

“The person you love– do they know how you feel?” He asks after a beat, and you frown, trying not to let too much emotion out as you speak. “I’ve never told him, nor my parents. I’ve wanted to, but.. I’m scared he won’t return my feelings, and.. He was born a commoner. People won’t approve of that.” Unconsciously, your gaze shifts away from Minho and turns towards Chan. 

Minho notices, of course, and follows your gaze, seeing the way Chan is overtly staring at the pair of you dancing. Oh, he is in love with you, if the way he’s staring daggers into Minho is any indication. He almost wants to laugh at how oblivious you seem to be about it, but he also sympathizes.

He was there once– afraid to confess, afraid of what the reaction would be. And even now he’s still afraid of how his father will react if he ever confesses to his hidden relationship, so he’d be a hypocrite to tell you to not worry about it. 

But at the very least, he can be on your side. He can be a friend, an encouraging presence, a person who understands what you are going through. “I think you should tell him how you feel. Even if things don’t turn out how you hope, at least you tried. I think that’s better than having never tried at all, and living with regrets.” 

Honestly, he hopes you do confess your feelings, because he feels like he might burst into flames any second if your knight keeps staring at him with fire in his eyes. He’s so obvious, Minho isn’t sure how everyone else seems oblivious to it. But maybe he only recognizes that look in his eyes because he was there himself not too long ago, when others made advances on the person he loves most. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you contemplate Minho’s words. What is better? Accepting your fate as it is now and never telling a soul how you feel about Chan, or confessing your feelings and experiencing what it’s like to openly love Chan, only to have it ripped away from you when your family doesn’t approve? You really don’t know.. 

“Hey, if it doesn’t work out, maybe we do get married and act as each other’s cover,” he says jokingly, hoping it can make you feel comforted to some degree once he notices you being trapped in thought about what to do next. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you say with a small laugh, “Though if there is anyone I’d choose to be in a fake marriage with, it’d have to be you.”

Honestly, despite the unorthodox way it came to pass, it felt good to talk about your feelings for Chan. You didn’t have anyone to talk to about them, always keeping them completely to yourself. And you felt like you had a real friendship with Minho blossoming, one that could be maintained for years to come. “I enjoy your company. Platonically, of course,” you say with a smile. 

“As do I, Princess,” he smiles back, “Want to cheer to a good friendship?” “Let’s!” You say enthusiastically, letting your dance come to a close and allowing him to lead you to toast refreshments. 

If there was ever a time in Chan’s life he wishes he could disregard everything he’d ever been taught about rules and decency, it was now. He’s never felt so bitter in his entire life, the first time he’s ever felt spiteful at the unfairness of his situation. 

“Thank you for talking to her, she looks to be enjoying herself much more now,” the queen says with delight as she leans towards Chan, ensuring that he hears her thanks. All it does is effectively rub salt into his open wound.

“..Yes, she does,” Chan says, having to put effort into sounding anything other than gutted. The jealousy sizzling in his veins, envious desire stuck like bile in his throat.

He knows you well enough to know what a genuine smile looks like on you. He recognizes your body language, can see all the minute and subtle changes. It makes him physically ill, watching you be so happy with a man he knows you are likely to marry. Chan knew he was selfish, but he never realized how jealous he was capable of being. 

It was a luxury he didn’t realize he had– never having to see you in the arms of someone else. Sure, it was bound to happen, and he assumed he would be devastated when it inevitably occurred, but this? This all encompassing jealousy, this unadulterated greed– he doesn’t know how to process it, he doesn’t know how to calm himself down or mask it.

A realization zaps him suddenly, shocking his system as the feeling settles over him. He can’t let you go, he can’t put his feelings aside the way he thought he could. He’s not as strong as he thought he was, not as mature or as reasonable as he always thought himself to be. He can’t watch you be with someone else and be okay. If this is how he reacts to a situation so small, how will he feel when you actually marry?  

He’s fucked. Truly, unequivocally fucked.

His body and mind scream at him to act, to do something, do anything, but what is there for him to try? What can he do that isn’t hopeless? No, even if it is hopeless, even if it doesn't change a single thing, he has to regardless. That’s what every nerve in his body screams at him– if there was ever a time for him to conjure his bravery and win you over, it was now.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the night's festivities finally draw to close, eager to finally relax after hours of dancing and talking. Minho made the night more bearable at least; it was much easier to get through the evening when you had a friend to cling to and keep a good deal of your other suitors at bay. As soon as you finished bidding your goodbyes to the guests that were in attendance, you rushed over to Chan so he could finally lead you back to the privacy of your room.

“Princess.. I’m sure you’re tired, but can you wait for me here for a bit..?” Chan asks, hoping the nerves he feels aren't being conveyed in his voice or facial expression. You tilt your head, slightly confused but agreeing anyways. You really have no reason not to after all, especially if it’s a request from Chan of all people. He smiles and thanks you, running off quickly while promising he wouldn’t take too long.

You stand in the center of the ballroom alone, wondering what on earth Chan is having you wait here for. He could also get in trouble for leaving you alone here without anyone to watch over you, but whatever he has planned must be worth the risk he’s taking.. Is he trying to make sure no one is going to come back so that the two of you can dance together?

The thought makes you excited if you're being honest– you always love dancing with Chan, but you hadn't had many opportunities to after he began training to be a knight. And you’d happily do so if he wanted to, even if your feet were screaming at you from exhaustion.

You also have to admit, you enjoy the idea that after watching you dance all day, Chan wanted to have one with you too, even if it had to be once the event was over and within privacy. You wait as patiently as you possibly can, watching the doors to the ballroom, eagerly waiting for them to open.

And when they do, and your eyes fall on Chan entering dressed in what is possibly the most beautiful suit you've ever seen, your heart feels like it's going to burst. "You stayed," he smiles as he steps closer, his dimples on full display. His unruly hair that normally falls over his face has been tamed enough to show his features more clearly, the full extent of his handsome face on display just for you.

“C-Chan, you– I, wow, you look–” You try to speak but you stumble over your words, his beauty leaving you even more speechless when viewed up close. It really is the most beautiful suit you've ever laid eyes on. Or maybe you only think so because he is the one wearing it? Either way, he looks so incredibly handsome that you feel almost dazed, your brain quickly malfunctioning as you stare at him.

Truthfully, he had to save his salary for months to afford a suit this nice. You lived in a world of extravagant gowns and beautiful jewelry, and he knew that if he ever got the chance to dance with you again, he wanted to look like he belonged with you– even if it was just this one time. You don't care about aesthetics, he knows that, but it's still something he wanted to do. Looking at him the way you are now, he knows it was all worth it.

He always wanted to belong in your world, to look like someone that a princess could be with. Soon enough, you’ll have to decide which of your suitors to marry, and on that day he will lose you. If this is the last opportunity he has to share a dance with you, then he wants to make the most of it. Even if it's just for this short moment, he'd like you to see him as something more than a friend or knight.

He wants to live in a bubble where it’s just you and him, where he can show you the side of himself he always wanted you to see. A bubble where only the two of you exist, where everything but each other is background noise. His every moment, all he sees is you, and he wants to be the only one you see in turn. No one in your eyes but him, his every word hanging in your ears and gesture embedding in your heart.

He will allow himself this final selfish act before he lets you go, before he has to bury his feelings and lock them away for good. He will dance with you not as your best friend, your knight, or your student who is still learning the steps, but as a man in love with his princess. 

“May I have this dance, Princess?” Chan asks, smiling up at you as he bows, holding out his hand to you. You feel like your brain is short circuiting, all dance etiquette and rules leaving your mind as you stare at him. Your face has turned bright pink and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, but you manage to nod and let your hand reach for his. How will you even survive this dance when he’s smiling at you like that while looking so devastatingly handsome? 

Despite the glaring fact that all your knowledge is lost on you as he holds you closer, he leads you through your daze well. Humming melodies with his beautiful voice while he guides you through the steps– you feel like you’re in a dream. He’s looking at you so intently, smiling so charmingly between melodies, you feel like you’re melting. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion you’ve never seen on him before. 

No, that’s not true. You have seen it. Fleetingly, in quick moments where it would flash on his features, a moment so small you’d miss it if you blinked. Moments like now, where it was just the two of you, free to be yourselves, to talk and laugh and dance with no restriction. Every time you noticed that look in his eyes, his expression would change in an instant, or he’d turn his face away and not let your eyes linger on it. 

Affection? Care? Love? Is that the feeling that shows on his face when he looks at you? Is love the emotion that always makes him smile bashfully before he looks away from you? The one you sometimes catch, but is gone before you can really commit it to your memory? This is the first time you’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing it on his face for more than a few seconds, and it makes goosebumps erupt on your skin. 

All you can do is stare as he leads you through the dance, the entirety of his being capturing your undivided attention. A shyness bubbles underneath the surface, neither of you used to staring at one another so overtly, but you couldn’t possibly turn your gazes away. You decide that if you did somehow fall asleep at some point and this is a dream, that you’ll enjoy it for all its worth. 

You don’t know how he feels about you, really. At best you can guess, you can hope, but there’s no way for you to truly know. But what you do know is how you feel about him, and that’s enough, you think. It’s enough to make this moment the most special you’ve ever shared. It’s enough to lift up the shattered fragments of your heart and reconstruct them into something beautiful and new.

Does he love you as much as you love him? Regardless of the answer, you’ll never forget how you feel right now. A love beyond words, a happiness that transcends everything else. 

Chan, who was feeling confident until now, begins to feel a stutter in his heart. He wanted to impress you, to show you the most ideal side of himself, to make you see him, really see him, in the way he desired to be seen. But now that you are looking at him with such ardor in your eyes, with his hands on your waist and your arms around his neck, he feels like his heart could burst.

Was he once again naive to think he could put his feelings to rest after this? Foolish to believe that this moment would be enough for him to part from you satisfied with what little he had? 

Yes, he definitely was. Because the way you look at him now, he knows he can never go back to how things were before. He will want to see it again and again, paired with your sweet smile and cute mannerisms. Again, he realizes he's selfish. He doesn’t want you to look at anyone else this way, to give anyone else your affection, to smile at them the way you do at him. For better or worse, you’ll be there, in every thing he does and in every thought he has. 

Most selfish of all, he wants to kiss you so badly, to claim you as his. He wants to pull you even closer, to feel your warmth against him, to tell you that you are all he ever has, and ever will see. It’s always been you that lights up his world, always been you that gives fire to his ambitions, always you that makes his heart race and palms clam up. Since he was a child, for as long as he can remember until now, you were his everything. You became his world, everything he does revolving around you, forever drawn to you.

Before he can stop himself, his lips are on yours, connecting with you in the way he’s always dreamed of. There’s no time for him to rationalize his choice or scold himself for giving in to his selfishness. Chan has always been weak when it comes to you, after all. Unconsciously, his hands hold you a bit tighter, though he himself is unsure whether that’s because he’s afraid to let you go or because it just feels right to have you in his grasp while he kisses you.

You blink in surprise, time feeling like it has slowed to a complete stop. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you, your brain desperately trying to catch up with reality and make sense of its own racing thoughts. When Chan pulls back, you can see a panic forming in his eyes, apologies lingering on his lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have, I–” 

You pull him back to you before he can continue to ramble, continuing the kiss he started. He can’t regret this, can’t second guess letting the moment take him over; you won’t let him. You want to be lost with him, enveloped in his embrace and consumed by his touch, damn the consequences. You don’t care who catches you, you don’t care about what punishment either of you could receive; this is all you’ve ever wanted for so, so long. 

And maybe you should care, maybe you should stop him, stop yourself, but you refuse. If pushing him away is right, then you’d rather be wrong. His world may revolve around you, but yours revolves around him just as much. You can’t live without him, can’t bear to be apart from him. You want to stay with him, even if it causes everything else around you to crumble. 

You’re both breathless by the time you separate, his eyes searching over your face desperately for any sign of hesitation, because once he really has you, he’s never letting you go. “Princess, Y/N, I–” He pauses, words lodged in his throat, but his eyes convey everything. You see it, the clearest that you ever have.

“Do you love me?” You ask, watching intently as his face heats up all the way to his ears. “Please tell me. I love you, and I need to hear you say you love me too,” you all but plead, watching him swallow as he tries to conjure the words he wants to say.

He kissed you, so he can’t really deny it, but admitting it could make life even more difficult for you. Chan knows you well enough to know you’ll fight against your parents wishes, that you’d abandon your life here if it called for it, but can he let you do that? 

This is the last chance he has to listen to reason and walk away, his last chance to bury his emotions down deep, his last chance to use even just a modicum of self control.. But no, that's not what he wants to do.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. That’s all he’s ever been with you, and maybe all he ever will be. Because as much as he logically knows he should let you go, he just can’t. Because the thought of anyone other than him kissing you fills him with dread. Because even if it makes your reality harder, it’s still all he wants. 

All along, his answer has been there. He can’t turn away from you, and you won’t let him. Both of you are stubborn in your wants, both of you pulling to each other like magnets, unable to be drawn apart. That’s what makes you perfect for him, he supposes.

You're both a pair of reckless fools, willing to throw everything away for the other person. How can his answer be any different, especially when you’re looking up at him like this? Desperate to hear his answer, desperate to be loved by him and him alone. 

“I love you. I always have, from the very beginning,” Chan confesses, “I know it’s wrong, I know I’m not supposed to love you, and I’ve tried to hold it back but.. I can’t stand watching from the sidelines anymore, I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. I love you, and I want to be the one who spends his life with you.”

‘I’m not supposed to love you.’ You hate that he had that thought, but you understand why. No matter how close you became, even when he never treated you any differently from anyone else, he wasn’t oblivious to your difference in station. Neither of you ever let your circumstances affect your friendship, but that didn’t mean the difference between you wasn’t still there. 

He recognized long ago that someone of his birth wasn’t meant to be with a princess, and he tried his best not to let his feelings for you show. You understood now too, why he became your knight despite all that it meant. Because he loved you, and that was the only way he could guarantee he would always be beside you. If he couldn't be your husband, that was the next best thing. 

"If there is anyone in this world who deserves to marry me, it's you. It's always been you, I've never wanted anyone else," you say with full sincerity. There’s no one else you would ever pick, no one else you’d ever give your life to. No matter how much time passes, how your life changes and how far apart you may end up, the love you have for your best friend, your knight, will always remain.

He kisses you again, with all his love and affection poured into it. Years worth of repressed feelings bubbling to the surface like a wellspring. His self restraint dissolves, kissing you over and over again as if his life depends on the repetition of the action. He holds you tightly, squeezing you closely to him, in a gesture that is as full of desire as it is love.

You’re both breathless when he finally allows you to separate, lips swollen and red from the continued use. You lost track of time, having no idea how much or how little the minutes have passed. All you know is Chan’s all encompassing presence, and finally knowing the feeling of his lips against yours.

You don’t want the night to end here, you realize. You don’t want to return to your room and carry on tomorrow as if this never happened. You don’t want to pretend that you’re not impossibly in love with him, you don’t want to pretend you don’t know how his body feels pressed against yours, or how it feels to have his lips on you.

“Take me to your room, Channie,” you plead, and he swallows, your request making his heart race impossibly fast. The majority of knights live in barracks, but as a royal knight in charge of the princess’ protection, his room lies close to yours, separated only by a few halls.

But despite the relatively close proximity, you’ve never actually been to Chan’s room before due to the risk. Even with your friendship being apparent, going directly to his quarters and staying for a prolonged time ran the risk of spreading untoward rumors. 

For royalty, their reputation is of the utmost importance, and while you didn’t care what people said behind your back, it was still something you had to be careful of for the sake of Chan himself. Even if you could easily recover from rumors, Chan wouldn’t be afforded that same luxury– it would undoubtedly follow him everywhere.

And this led to him often being in your room, using the pretense of his knighthood to enter your space and have private conversations and talk like friends, the way you did before he became your knight. But that was always during the daytime, and with other knights still standing out in the hall.

If those same knights saw him enter your room with you during the night, and not come back out until morning, it would certainly raise suspicions. Really, no matter what the two of you do tonight, there is risk, the probability of consequences you can’t come back from higher than it’s ever been.

“Are you sure..?” He asks, clearly worried about what could happen as a result. He wants to be with you, of course he does, but if it’s found out you stayed with him in his room for an entire night, the consequences wouldn’t be pretty. He needs to know you understand that, needs to know you want to be with him regardless of what could happen afterwards. You nod, resolve clear as you hold his hand tighter.

You were aware of the risks, but your love for him outweighed the concern. If anyone wanted to question you about being away from your room during the night, you had the confidence you needed now to fight for what you want. Now that you know he returns your feelings, you won’t let anyone get in the way of keeping you together, you’ll fight for it with all you have. And besides that, you're a princess. You were raised with the belief that the world was in the palm of your hands, so shouldn't you be allowed to have the things you want?

“I’ve thought about this a million times, Chan, I’m sure,” you tell him. Nothing will deter you from being with him– not anymore. “A million times, huh?” He teases with a smile as he pulls you along with him to exit the ballroom, his playful side coming back out as he leads you out to the hall and in the direction of his room. “Shut up,” you smile shyly as you slap his arm, a blush creeping across your face.

You have to suppress the giggle that threatens to leave you as you wind the halls together, a nostalgic sort of feeling welling in you despite this being the first time you are sneaking to his room like this. You snuck him into so many spaces, always sharing fond moments with him in secrecy, and really this is just an extension of that. 

The roles may be reversed in this instance, but the way you hold each other's hand and smile at each other is the same. The way you speak in hushed voices, the way you contain your gleeful giggles and the way you look at each other with pure joy, it's all the same.

When you reach his room, he ushers you in the door first, following behind swiftly and locking the door behind himself. “Just a moment,” he speaks softly as he moves carefully past you, lighting the candles he has on his nightstand. You use the dim light to survey your surroundings (as much as is possible, anyways,) taking note of all the things that make his space different from yours. 

Chan watches you with subtle amusement; his room really isn’t anything special, but you’re looking around it as if it’s the most interesting thing you could ever see. (And to be fair, it is a stark contrast from the luxurious space you’re used to living in.) His space, while decently sized, still pales in comparison to the size of your room. His furniture is much less exuberant in style, and bed significantly smaller than your own. But you like it better that way, you think– it feels homey. 

There’s a moment of silence that follows, not necessarily awkward, but rather hesitant as you turn your attention back to Chan. He’s sitting on his bed, looking incredibly handsome even in the dim candle light. Or did that add to it? You aren’t really sure. All you really know is that the way the subtle illumination and shadows frame his face makes your stomach twist. He really is way too handsome for his own good. 

Cautiously, you sit next to him, taking his appearance in more closely (despite the way it makes your heart feel like it’s going to implode.) He looks at you as well, taking you in just as attentively. Now that he can freely gaze at you without restriction, he wants to commit you to his memory. He wants to know your every blemish, every freckle and every line. 

You’re so impossibly beautiful– you could appear to him covered in grime and wearing tattered rags and he’d still think you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Has he ever told you that? No, he doesn’t think he has. Every time he was awed by you, he’d look away before you could notice his blatant stare, never commenting outwardly on how incredible he thought you were. 

“Can I kiss you again?” Chan asks tentatively, eyes full of eager trepidation. It may be beyond his capabilities to tell you how gorgeous you are, but he can show you. You nod, a small "yes" leaving your lips. His hands seek you out first, resting themselves on your waist before he kisses you again.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss, one that leaves you full of butterflies. All the romance novels you read couldn't have prepared you for how it actually feels to be in the moment, for how it feels to have his hands holding you firmly as he kisses you. 

You want to move without restriction, you want to feel him closer, want to feel his touch on your bare skin. You separate, Chan watching you curiously as your face heats up in preparation for what you intend to ask. “Help me take off my dress?”

“W-What?” Chan stutters, bright red blush traveling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Did he hear you correctly? He’s certainly mistaken, right? “I-I mean, unless you think I should keep it on for the rest of the night..?” 

“N-No, right, of course not,” he says, swallowing as he watches you rise from the bed. He follows, hands trembling as watches you turn your back to him, waiting for him to help you untie your corset. He reaches out slowly, untying it as carefully as he can despite his shaking hands. 

The layers of your dress follow rather quickly after that, eager to get all the extra weight off your body and allow yourself to feel Chan's touch directly. It's not until you're at the final layer that you feel shyness creep back on you, Chan's hand stilling on your shoulders as his own nerves pick up as well. 

When he pulls it down, you'll be strictly in your underwear, the most exposed you've ever been to a man in your entire life. But as much as it makes you shy, it excites you almost equally as much. You turn around now, so that your back is no longer facing him. You cross your arms, placing your hands on top of his, looking up at his face as you guide his hands down your arms, pulling your dress down along with it.

He swallows, eyes following the path your hands lead him on, his face easily the hottest it's ever been in his entire life. You lower your arms once you are no longer able to guide his hands, letting the last piece of fabric fall to the floor around your feet. 

Fuck, he really should be looking at you respectfully, but it feels impossible. You are standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear, and you encouraged it, guided him to remove your clothing with your own hands. God, you're going to ruin him.

"Can I?" You ask as you rest your hands on his chest, the buttons of his suit easily within your reach, ready to undo them the moment he gives his approval. He does so easily, even helping you with the buttons and letting it fall to the floor the same way you did with your dress. 

You watch as he pulls the undershirt over his head, tossing it to the floor with everything else. Your eyes scan his torso, face heating up as you take in his toned physique. You assumed he was strong given his status, but you've never actually seen the proof of it until now. You'd be embarrassed for blatantly staring if not for the fact that he'd done the same to you just moments ago. It's only fair to stare at him as much as he stares at you– tit for tat, if you will. 

Chan's hands reach for his pants now, but he stops before he proceeds with removing them, looking at you as if to ask if it's okay with you before he does. Well, if the eager glint in your eye is anything to go by, you certainly want him to. He pulls them down easily after gaining your approval, kicking them off the rest of the way, (perhaps a bit unceremoniously, given the unprecedented circumstances,) not worrying at all about where they land.

You look at each other, an electric tension filling the space between you. The juxtaposition between the bashfulness and the desire leaving you temporarily stuck in place, a silent battle being waged between ‘should I act, or shouldn’t I?’

It’s typical for the man to make the first move in situations like this, isn’t it? But since when have you adhered to the stereotypical things that were expected of you? You hesitated before now out of fear– fear of what could happen to Chan and fear of your feelings being unrequited, but the minute he laid his feelings out for you, you decided there was no more time for fear, no time for hesitation. 

When you want something, you get it, and what you want right now more than anything is Chan, simple as that. You lay back on his bed now as if you own it, looking so relaxed, so assured, as you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for him to return to your side. Fuck, do you even know what you're doing to him?

He slots himself between your legs, his body weight pressing down on you when he lowers himself to kiss you again. Your torso falls back against the bed when you lift your arms to hold his face in your hands, not letting the kiss break and dragging him back with you. His hands travel up and down your sides, always stopping just under the line of the fabric containing your breasts. 

He pulls away from your lips, looking at you closely as he lets his thumbs under the fabric ever so slightly. He’s silently asking for permission again, you realize, searching your eyes for any semblance of hesitation or regret. There’s none to be found, of course– all you feel is desire, is love. You want this as badly as he does, undeniably so. 

He pulls it up slowly, carefully, and you lift your back off the bed, allowing him to take it off you completely. You watch him swallow as he stares down at you, taking in the unfamiliar sight of your exposed chest. He’ll never admit how many times he envisioned this moment in his mind, but the reality is much better than anything his mind could have conjured up. 

When Chan finally tears his eyes away to look at your face again, you offer him a smile, one that makes his heart stutter. It’s soft, yet completely radiant, and patient. There’s no need for you to rush him along, nor do you judge him for taking his time to look you over. When it’s something special, something you’ve both wanted for so long, with more intensity than you can express, why would you rush? It should be savored, with even the smallest of details committed to memory. 

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you for what feels like the millionth time. His hands cup your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms for the first time, squeezing (gently, of course,) every so often. When the calloused pads of his thumbs rub over your nipples for the first time, and you let out the most sinfully sweet noise he’s ever heard, he’s done for. 

He wants– no, needs, to hear it again. Again, and again, and again, all for him, only ever for him. The small, soft gasps, the shuddering breaths, the shiver that runs along the entirety of your body when he touches you– it’s addictive, so terribly addictive. “Channie–” you whine into his mouth, and he has to suppress the groan that threatens to leave his throat in response.

“Again,” he says as he begins to trail kisses beneath your ear and down the expanse of your neck, “Say my name again.” You oblige his request easily, each small whine turning into a soft moan of his name.

Your voice, so dovelike, its sweetness all encompassing, commandeering all his senses. His hands travel lower, rubbing over the plush territory of your thighs, his fingers always coming dangerously close to your center before being taken away.  

He chuckles when you huff, a small pout on your lips that he finds adorable. He doesn’t mean to tease, but he has to admit he likes the reaction it grants him. “What’s wrong, darling? I didn’t think you were so impatient,” Chan says with an amused tilt in his voice, because at the end of the day, beneath all the shyness and desire that was at the forefront, he is still the playful person he’s always been. 

“Don’t be mean, Channie,” you all but grumble, your pout growing larger. It’s not like you’re trying to rush anything, it’s just.. He knows what he's doing, and he’s doing it on purpose! Making you all needy for his touch, being so close to where you want him but not actually granting it to you. 

He smiles, that dazzling one that makes your stomach twist, confirming that he does indeed know he’s tormenting you on purpose. “Apologies, my love. You’re just so cute when you pout.” You would definitely punch him if the statement didn’t make butterflies erupt in your gut. “Chan, please,” you shamelessly whine, and oh, how that instantly turns the tables back in your favor.

He’ll do anything for you, whatever you ask, everything he can offer, it’s yours. You realize that, don’t you? That even if he teases, even if he pretends he’s fine and not completely and utterly enamored by you, he can never actually resist you. “Tell me what you want, Princess. Anything you want, it’s yours. Anything.” 

“I-I–” you start, but quickly stumble over your words. The way he’s looking at you, waiting with bated breath for your answer, eyes eager and so willing to give you his all– it sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, willing your racing heart to calm so you can speak properly. “I want.. To feel you. Inside me.”

Chan’s breath catches in his throat, cock twitching unceremoniously in response. He wants to, it’d be pointless to pretend he doesn’t, but.. “Are– are you sure?” he asks, the question laced with genuine care despite how eager he is for you to say yes. He wants to care for you, wants to make love to you, to claim you as his in the sweetest of ways, but he doesn’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for. 

Even if your confessions were a long time coming, even though there was years worth of yearning and desire, it’s still a lot to entrust yourself to someone like that. To trust them wholeheartedly, to grant them such pleasure and believe that they’ll take care of you in return.

And he needs to know that you understand the risks and the changes it will bring, and you aren’t saying it out of some spur of the moment obligation to please him. Because he’ll be happy, no matter how long he has to wait.

“Channie,” you place your hands on his face, forcing his eyes to stay locked on your own, “I love you so much. I want to do this with you.” You can feel his face heat up under your fingers, but he smiles– one that is shy, but at the same time full of unfiltered joy. Chan leans down to kiss you once more, showing you all the love and care that he can’t express with his words. 

His hands resume their original path, tracing up and down your thighs for a few moments before he finally hooks his fingers into your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, not with the intent to tease you this time, but because he knows when he finally sees what is waiting for him underneath the fabric his heart is going to beat out of his chest. 

You adjust your legs position to make the removal easier, watching Chan with nervous excitement. It is scary, you admit, being so exposed and vulnerable in front of someone else, but there is no one else in the world you trust more. No one but Chan makes you feel this safe and secure, and he’s shown you over and over how much love he carries for you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he admits for the first time aloud. Would it be cliche to compare you to a goddess? Maybe, but that’s the only thing that comes even remotely close to conveying how alluring he thinks you are. More radiant than even Aphrodite herself, with even the wonders of the world paling in comparison to you. “Gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

You watch him bring his hands to his own underwear, slipping them off with relative ease before settling himself comfortably between your legs. “I need to get you ready, okay darling? And then I promise, I’ll give you everything you want,” Chan speaks softly and you nod, entrusting yourself to him completely. 

He’s never done this before, so he follows his instinct, doing whatever feels right in the moment. His fingers rub carefully between your folds, spreading around the wetness that accumulated there. Your breathing halts when the pads of his fingers press against your hole, body tingling with overwhelming desire. Slowly, carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside.

The sensation is unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant– in fact, the back and forth motion of his finger as it slides in and out quickly begins to draw soft whimpers from your lips. Soon enough, he’s adding a second finger, watching how they disappear in you with an almost mystified gaze. He can’t believe how snug you feel around his fingers, how wet and warm and fuck, he can’t even begin to imagine how good it’s going to feel around his cock. 

“Ah-!” you gasp loudly when, after some exploration, his fingers find a bundle of nerves that makes every nerve in your body erupt in pleasure. Your head falls back against his pillows, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the slew of loud noises that threaten to leave you everytime he rubs over it again. 

His fingers pump in and out at a steady pace now, not too fast as to overwhelm you, but enough to have stars constantly erupting in your vision. Your hands tightly grip the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and knot tightening in your gut unbelievably fast. Chan’s name leaves your mouth over and over between breaths and whines, like a looped mantra, the salacious melody you create music to his ears.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud whimpers and moans that rip through you as you come undone on Chan’s fingers. Would it be sacrilegious to call your noises heavenly when the reason for them is so sinful? He wishes more than anything he could hear them unfiltered, to allow them to flow freely from your lips without a care in the world about the volume and who could hear them. 

He slowly stills his fingers as you come down from your high, taking in the sight of you and memorizing every detail. The rise and fall of your chest as you catch your breath, the rosy tint of your cheeks, the beads of sweat that linger on your brow, all coming together to create an ethereal image. 

Chan plants soft kisses on your face as he gently slides his fingers out of you, complimenting you on how pretty you sound and beautiful you look. "Channie–" you start, and he smiles, knowing exactly what you intend to whine about. "Don't worry, my love. I'll keep my promise."

He takes his fingers, still wet with your release, and rubs them up and down his length, mixing his pre-cum with it along the way. As you watch you realize that his cock is much bigger than his fingers, and you wonder how it'll fit when just two fingers alone already felt like so much. 

“Are you ready?” Chan checks in with you when he’s lined up with your entrance, ready to stop at a moment's notice if you decide this is too much too soon. He can see the subtle worry beneath the anticipation, notices the way you unconsciously hold your breath when he presses against you. It's true, you are nervous, but not enough so to make you change your mind. So you nod, and he moves one of his hands to yours, intertwining your fingers. 

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I'll go slow,” Chan assures you, placing a soft kiss on your temple before he begins. There’s a sharp intake of breath from you when he slowly begins to push inside, the sting being much more intense than you had anticipated. It goes beyond the discomfort you expected, eyes squeezing shut and your grip on his hand tightening. 

The minute Chan feels you squeeze his hand tighter, he pauses just as promised. You open your eyes after a moment, looking up at Chan to try and push the sting to the back of your mind. He's breathing heavily, brows knit together in a combination of pleasure and concern, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

It takes all his self control to not get lost in the sensation around him, needing to make sure he takes care of you properly. He can't hurt you, can't lose himself before making sure you'll feel good too, needs to put you above all else. 

"Do you need me to stop?" he asks, and you quickly shake your head no, expressing again how much you want to be connected with him in every way possible. Leaning down now, he kisses you until the discomfort subsides, whispering sweet words to you when he resumes the push, praising you over and over again until he's completely within you. 

You're still squeezing his hand, not due to any pain or discomfort this time, but to ground yourself through the overwhelming sensation of Chan being deep inside you. He continues kissing you softly, going above and beyond to ensure that you're relaxed and comfortable. "Love you so much Channie," you tell him, and he smiles sweetly, heart so full of adoration and infatuation for you. 

“Love you more,” he kisses you, ”so much,” another kiss, “never letting you go.” You giggle softly between his kisses, his words making your heart flutter. After graciously accepting a bit more of his doting, you soon notice that no trace of the initial sting or discomfort remains. In fact, being so full of him feels good, your body unconsciously seeking friction. 

“Channie, I’m ready now, want you to move, please,” you beg with such a soft and cute voice, he knows there is no way he can resist. Well, not that he would ever deny you what you want in the first place. With one last kiss, and reassuring squeeze to your hand, he finally allows himself to move. 

Slowly, as gently as he can, he pulls out, pressing back inside in one fluid motion when only the tip remains, repeating the action through shaky breaths and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Even with the languid pace, it's enough to drive him insane. Every detail of you, from the way you look, the way you sound, the way you feel wrapped around him, so snug and warm and inviting– it’s intoxicating. 

Chan’s arms reach beneath you, hooking under your back and hands holding your shoulders, keeping your body closely pressed against his own. His face is buried in your neck, low groans beneath your ear, for you and you alone to hear. You make your own effort to keep him close as well; one hand tangling in his curly hair and the other tightly gripping his bicep.

He’s going slow, not just for your sake, but for his own. Because if he doesn’t he’s going to blow, because he wants to live in this moment for as long as he possibly can, because being close to you like this is everything he’s ever dreamed of. You’re his, finally his, and he wants it to last, wants to indulge in the feeling and the emotion of being your chosen lover. 

It takes him a few tries to find the spot that makes you see stars with just his cock, but he knows he’s found it when you (unwittingly) let out a loud moan, nails digging into his skin and eyes rolling back. He picks up his pace now, chasing the sound of your pleasure-filled voice, wanting to hear you call his name over and over again.

He kisses you again when your combined noises begin to grow in pitch, muffling one another in a desperate attempt to keep the sounds of pleasure confined to the 4 walls of Chan’s room. You want to be quiet, you know you should be, but you truly can’t help it. But if he’s being honest, he likes that you can’t keep your voice down, likes that he’s making you feel so good that you can’t suppress it.

Chan is getting close now, and he pulls himself away from your lips, wanting to look at you once more before his approaching orgasm overtakes him. Even now, when you're breathless, cheeks red and hair sticking to your forehead due to the sweat, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

"Wanna cum in you," he manages to say between his low moans, “will you let me, please? Need to fill you up, need to make you mine forever, just like I'm yours."

Once again, your stomach flips, the words having an immense effect on you. "Y-Yes, yes, cum in me, I'm yours, only yours," you answer easily, wanting nothing more than to feel (and watch) him come apart because of you. His pace stutters following your permission, thrusts growing quick and sloppy as he chases his high, groans turning into drawn out whines. 

The faster pace sends you reeling, toes curling has the knot in your stomach tightens and snaps in quick succession. You pull Chan back down to you, kissing him deeply as you cum around his cock, both to muffle yourself and as a gesture of the all consuming love you feel for him. He lets out soft, desperate whimpers as he releases inside you, ropes of cum painting your walls white.

You both stay like that for a few moments– breathlessly wrapped in one another's embrace, sharing soft kisses as you come down from your highs, soft admissions of love leaving your lips. You wince when Chan’s softening length pulls out of you, feeling extremely sensitive following the loss of your virginity. 

Chan blows out the candles before he lays down next to you, leaving the moonlight coming through his window as the only illumination. He intended to pull you close to him, but he didn't have to– you snuggle up to him the moment you can, laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his torso, legs tangling with his.

His racing heartbeat begins to slow, an extreme relaxation sweeping over his body. He closes his eyes, your soft breathing serving as his own personal lullaby. Carefully, he reaches his free arm out for his blanket, pulling it over to cover your nude bodies.

He’s nearly asleep when he hears you softly call his name, voice quiet but still loud and clear in his ears. “What is it, darling?” he asks as he opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at you. There’s a moment of silence that follows as you consider how best to voice what you want to say, but Chan is patient, looking at you with a soft gaze.

“Do you.. Think we can really get married?” You finally ask, and Chan’s heart squeezes in his chest when you do. He can hear the tremble in your voice so clearly, feels the way you hold him tighter as you wait for him to answer.

If he’s being truthful, he doesn’t know. It’s what he wants, what he hopes for more than words can express, but just doesn’t know. And it breaks his heart to see you like this– clearly vulnerable and unsure. You’ve always sought out Chan for comfort, but it’s different this time. Different because you now know the depths of love you both share, the desire to always be together and the fear that you’ll be driven apart.

You’ll fight for your love, of course you will, because there is no happiness to be had if Chan isn’t by your side. But you don’t want to have to fight for it, you don’t want either of you to suffer, you don’t want Chan to be driven away from you by people who don’t understand and don’t value him for who he is. You want your love to be accepted, to openly profess your love, to marry the only person you’ve ever had eyes for.

Tears are welling in your eyes, and he can see them even in the dim moonlight. “Y/N..” he uses his free arm to reach for your face, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall with his thumb. “I’m going to marry you. No matter what I have to do, I will,” Chan tells you, voice gentle but resolute. He meant it when he said he’s never letting you go, meant it when he said he’ll always be yours and always be beside you.

He doesn’t know what the future holds– if things will come easy for you both, or if you’ll have to fight tooth and nail just to be with each other. But he knows that no matter what the answer is, he will be with you. Whether in your toughest moments or happiest, he’ll be there. Holding your hand, giving you his love, sticking with you until the end of his days.

Whether it’s tomorrow, months, or even years from now, he’ll be your husband. You’ll be the one he shares his life with, the one he starts a family with, the one he sees every morning and every night. He’ll hold you close, starting your days with ‘I love you’s’ and ending them with the same, giving you all he has to give. 

“No matter what happens, we’ll get through it together, okay? I love you so much,” Chan says and you nod, a soft smile on your face as you wipe your eyes and lay your head back down against him. “Love you, Channie.” He kisses your head softly, urging you to relax, to fall asleep, and not worry about what could be, but indulge in what is.

Indulge in the love you share, the feeling of closeness as you lie together in his bed, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and his gentle reassurances. He’ll still be here when you wake up, will keep you in his arms, holding you close and making sure you know how much he adores you, how much he loves you. Because no matter what the future brings, you still have this moment. You still have each other.

[idyllic-affections]

i know my kingdom awaits, and they've forgiven my mistakes.

summary. "Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."" trigger & content warnings for self-hatred, severe blood, major traumatic life events, depictions of trauma, panic attacks & a fuck ton of crying, implications of suicidal ideation but it is never explicitly stated in an obvious way, overall heavy on the themes of mental health, heavy spoilers for baizhu's story quest and childe's character stories, [name] is called pretty once. tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. friends to strangers to friends, hurt/comfort. baizhu & childhood friend!reader, brief hints of childe & reader. 10k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. it is here. the fabled "friends to something significantly worse to friends again" fic is finally here (june if you're reading this, thank you for the idea lmaoo <33). btw! this post runs on the theory that skirk is associated with khaenri'ah. no idea what her personality is like so.... bear with me pls. she gives off "tired, bitter big sister" vibes in this fic. at one point, nightmare by set it off started playing while i was writing this and i think thats so fucking funny, that is so childhood friend![name]core. a LOT of ironic songs played while i was writing this actually! maybe ill make a post about it?

       "What's the last thing on our list?"

       Surely the sky had been painted by the Celestial Gods above—how else could one even hope to explain the otherworldly beauty it held? Pinks blended smoothly in with hues of golden orange and baby blue as the sun crept lower and lower towards the horizon. A few stars already dotted the evening sky, twinkling and sparkling against their background.

       In the reflection of their eyes, the light danced.

       Their friend hummed thoughtfully, brushing some of his hair away from his face, before scanning the words written in practically illegible handwriting inside the little journal the two's shared master had given them. "Violetgrass... I think."

       "You think?" they echoed, amused, peering over his shoulder into the notebook. He shrugged.

       "Master's handwriting isn't exactly... er, legible."

       They giggled at that. "No doctor's is. I think it has something to do with how many prescriptions they have to write on a daily basis. Like... they have to write fast, so they have some kind of language of their own to be as efficient as possible."

       "Is that so?"

       "...Honestly, I don't know. Something like that, I guess."

       He smiled at them, teasing, "Shouldn't you know better than anyone, [Name]?"

       "Shut up, Baizhu, I'm still learning!" they huffed with faux annoyance, snatching the book from his hands. "Yeah, that says Violetgrass. Hm... you should probably go back, then. It's getting kind of late," they mused, meeting the boy's gentle burgundy gaze. "I've got it from here."

       "Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't mind going with you."

       "I'm sure. I get Violetgrass on my own all the time. It gets cold at night, and with everything going on, it's probably better that only one of us goes out. Less of a chance of the sickness spreading further, you know?"

       "I can't really argue with that," he admitted. "Alright, but don't stay out too late."

       "Don't worry," they reassured, "I don't intend to."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Darkness had fallen by the time they reached their normal spot for gathering Violetgrass. Specks of glittery stars dotted the night sky; it took all of their mental strength to not sit and admire it. They would never get their task done if they did.

       'The last time I did this with my bag on, I fell.'

       With that thought in mind, they hummed and carefully took the cross-body bag filled to the brim with medicinal herbs off. They set it neatly to the side. Before beginning, they stretched, hoping to somehow make themselves more flexible and limber by doing so. A series of satisfying pops were released from their bones.

       It was then that they began gingerly scaling the cliffside—it wasn't impossibly steep, and they'd done it an abundance of times in the past, so it didn't present too big of a challenge. It wasn't anything they weren't used to.

       The ground then unexpectedly trembled beneath their feet. They huffed as their foot slipped, sending them sliding down a few feet and back onto solid ground. The single piece of Violetgrass that they needed seemed to mock their failure from its place several feet above them.

       "Aw, come on..." they murmured, slightly frustrated. "Maybe I should have had Baizhu stay and help..."

       Then, again without warning, just as they were about to make another attempt, the ground split open.

       A scream was torn from their throat as they fell. It was as if Teyvat itself had swallowed them into its core. They made a a desperate attempt to reach for the surface, but as soon as they were in, the crack snapped shut once again. No matter how fast they fell, no kind of ground ever seemed to get any closer. Briefly through their terror, they wondered if this was how they'd die—falling into nothingness for eternity until they starved, mortal body eventually decaying into nothing and becoming one with the never-ending emptiness.

       This was never meant to be how they'd die. Their death was supposed to be fated through Changsheng's contract, not through... this.

       A sob ripped through their throat as their body unexpectedly slammed into the ground. Upon impact, they knew at least a handful of bones in their wrists had broken. Perhaps it was unwise to brace their fall with their wrists, but then again... it would have been far worse if they landed on their back. Breaking their back may very well have been a death sentence in the scenario they were in. Honestly, they were just thankful that their shoulders and forearms seemed to be okay, aside from a rhythmic throbbing coursing through both arms. Their body trembled pathetically like a leaf in the wind, ready to be blown away at any second. At least a leaf would see daylight or even moonlight.

       It was pitch black for them, as if the darkness actively sought out and destroyed any source of light it was capable of finding. It seemed to sap any will they might've had to resist, to find a way out. Their will was gone. It was like it was never there in the first place. The ominous dark took all that determination, all that light, and consumed it like a starved beast until there was nothing but a shell left behind.

       A deep pit settled in their gut as they whimpered, curling up into a ball. Surely, this was just a dream. An awful, terrible dream. They'd wake up and everything would be normal—they'd still be on the surface, gathering the last of their master's requested herbs before heading back and resuming their life as normal.

       Regardless of whether or not this was a horrifying nightmare, sleeping was far more appealing than staying awake.

       It was with tears rolling down their cheeks that they tucked their head into their arms, wincing at the shooting pain that ascended the length of their arms when too much pressure was applied to their wrists, and succumbed to the boundless darkness.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Time was an illusion.

       That's how they felt, at least, because they had no idea how long they had been underneath Teyvat for. It could've been hours or it could've been days—they wouldn't know the difference either way. Everything was fuzzy. Their sleep was restless and interrupted; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't truly sleep. Even if they managed to fall asleep, they'd wake up again after a few minutes with a jolt and a wave of paranoia. What frustrated them so deeply about it was that they knew very well that their body would never heal if they didn't sleep well. They'd never have the strength to escape if that were the case. It was infuriating.

       The distant echo of footsteps made their muscles tense. The sound ceased a few feet away from where they laid.

       "You'll never survive down here like this."

       A nervous whine threatened to leave their throat. They swallowed it down, hands trembling slightly.

       "Get up. I can tell that you're awake."

       Fuck.

       With what minimal strength they did still have, they pushed themselves up using their elbows. Using their hands would only hurt them more. It was difficult to see, but nonetheless, they could see her eyes clearly. Empty, star-shaped irises stared down at them, piercing the very depths of their soul, picking them apart like some kind of subject of a dissection. The utter bite of her gaze caused them to suck in a sharp breath, posture straightening slightly.

       "I've no idea why the Abyss would want someone so... pathetic," she scoffed. "Look at you, resigning to your fate like some kind of lost puppy with its tail between its legs."

       "No, I... That's not..." they stammered, trailing off, hoarse voice quick to die out in the face of her frigid sternness. "I'm not..."

       "Oh? Am I wrong?"

       "No— Yes, I mean, yes, I was... My wrists, they broke when I fell, so... They broke and I don't have anything to fix them with, so I thought resting would be a better idea than running or fighting, and—"

       "Alright, alright, stop. Get up. Follow me."

       She began to walk away.

       "H— huh?"

       "You want to survive, don't you?"

       They scurried after her before they could have any kind of second doubts.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       The woman introduced herself as Skirk, a seasoned swodswoman with extensive knowledge about the Abyss and how to survive in it. She had been kind enough (well... it was debatable whether her gesture was out of kindness or due to ulterior motives, but they had no other choice but to trust her) to treat their injuries, stiffly wrapping their wrists so that they could heal properly.

       It took about six weeks for them to heal adequately. Within that time, they were surprised to find that they had begun to be able to see through the darkness, as though their eyes had finally adjusted.

       They had hoped she would help them get out when they were fully healed, but...

       No.

       When she asked if they wanted to survive, she sure as hell intended to teach them how to do just that.

       "Slow, uncoordinated, weak," she criticized venomously, swinging her blade down at them with great force. She would undoubtedly kill them if they gave her any chance to. If they made one mistake... "Just how do you think you'll get by in this realm when you can hardly defend yourself?"

       "I— I didn't have to in Teyvat!" they sobbed, tears streaking down their cheeks from both the pain of the several open cuts and bruises blooming on their skin and the pain of being away from home for so long. How long had it been? They had no clue. Their wrists throbbed as they parried her blade with one of their own. "I was the apprentice of a doctor! I was safe there!"

       "Well, you're not safe here. Get used to it," she sneered. "It's kill or be killed down here."

       "I don't want to kill!"

       "Then you'll be killed."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Stop hesitating. Kill it."

       The Abyssal creature at their feet seemed to whimper, trying its best to crawl away from them. It's body was already terribly mangled, limbs broken and twisted in ways they never should have been. Archons know what the eldritch creature even was—they sure as hell had no clue. All they knew was that they felt sorry for it. It looked so small and weak beneath them. 'Pathetic,' a malevolent whisper drifted through their mind, 'it looks pathetic.' With a shake of their head, perhaps in an attempt to rid their mind of such cruel thoughts, cries escaped their throat. Their chest rose and fell in sobbing, labored breaths. All they could hear in their ears was the distinct sound of blood rushing. Their chest ached. Their body ached.

       They wanted to go home.

       "I can't, Skirk, I can't..."

       "You can," she hissed, "and you will."

       "No," they cried harder, "look at it! I can't..."

       "You can," she repeated, though this time with strange serenity, as she stepped behind them; with her hands, she forced their dagger down into the creature's chest, "and you will."

       Blood splattered across their figure as they let out an utterly visceral wail.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Soft sobs wracked their figure. The more they tried to suppress their cries, the worse they got.

       Many nights were spent in this manner. It wouldn't be the first night they spent crying themselves to sleep, and it was unlikely to be the last. Was it from the pain? The stress, perhaps? They truly didn't know. The only thing they knew was that they could only fall asleep if they exhausted themselves by crying first.

       They just wanted to go home.

       Then again...

       Would they be accepted back? There was blood on their hands now. Fresh blood of a life that had value just like any other before they so cruelly took it away because in Skirk's words, it was 'kill or be killed.'

       Would they still be viable for Changsheng's contract?

       What if their master was dead by the time they returned?

       What if they never returned?

       Maybe that would be for the better.

       But they wanted to go home regardless.

       Then, the first light they saw in what seemed to be ages graced their empty irises. The light was treasured. Without thinking, they trapped it between their palms like one would to a firefly in the night so that it could not escape them.

       A cool, smooth stone that most definitely wasn't there before now sat between their cupped hands. The rush of cold against their feverish skin prompted them to peer inside the little cage created by their rough hands.

       Inside sat a Cryo vision, still-wet blood smearing over its chilling surface.

       That night, they cried harder than they ever had before, clutching the Cryo Archon's blessing like it was some kind of lifeline.

       Contrary to what they may have believed at the time, the night they got their vision marked the final night they would ever spend crying themselves to sleep in the Abyss.

       That "morning," Skirk would note an evident change in their demeanor.

       That "morning" would mark the point at which the Abyss officially reached the depths of their soul, sucking the last of the light from them and changing them fundamentally.

       That "morning" would mark the point at which they were no longer Changsheng's next contractee.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Skirk taught them much in the first seven months of their time in the Abyss.

       The longer they stayed, the warmer she became in her behavior towards them. She vaguely reminded them of their medicinal Master, though she was certainly much tougher than he was. She was not unkind, they had concluded. She was simply hardened. Archons know what she must have been through to be so cold.

       Despite all that, she even did them the kindness of celebrating their birthday.

       "When you do finally get out," she had said to them that day, "you will find that very little time has passed in Teyvat. Don't be surprised. You'll be a year older mentally, but your bodily age will be about the same as it was when you fell."

       "How long has it been since I fell, then?"

       Her reply sent chills up their spine, stomach twisting in sheer disbelief:

       "Seven days."

       Of course, "celebrating" just meant that they got to sleep the day off rather than be relentlessly beat up by the swordswoman. Nonetheless, they appreciated the break.

       Ultimately, they had come to the conclusion that she was much different than what they'd initially assumed.

       They'd taken it upon themselves to patrol around what Skirk considered to be her "territory." They'd chuckled a bit to themselves when she described it in such a way, but said nothing, only offering to patrol in her place for the day as a favor. Allegedly, that was how she encountered them all those months ago.

       They were surprised to find that they, too, encountered a poor victim of the Abyss. It was a boy; if they had to guess, they would say he was somewhere around their age, maybe slightly younger.

       'Is this what Skirk saw when she looked at me? Archons, no wonder she looked like she was going to tear my throat out,' they mused absently, unblinking void eyes staring down at the ginger boy on the floor in front of them. He looked like he wanted to say something but simply couldn't force the words out. 'He really does look like a lost puppy... is that what I looked like?'

       His blue eyes were wide with shock and terror, glossed over with unshed tears. The Abyss was slowly beginning to dim the light in those eyes of his, but hadn't gotten very far yet—they still shone with an innocence they hadn't seen in quite a while, an innocence that didn't belong in a place such as the Abyss. His shaking hands clasped weakly at his foot; that's when they noticed that it was broken.

       Some kind of forgotten instinct suddenly sparked again in their chest at the sight of his wounded ankle. Life... it was a thing they were supposed to protect. That was something they had been taught for as long as they could recall. It was only after falling into the Abyss that they began to stray from those teachings.

       They needed to protect him. He was so fragile, the poor thing.

       Briefly, they wondered what Baizhu, Jiangli, and their Master were doing right about now. Were they worried? They had no way of knowing. They did their best to brush those thoughts off before the homesickness could set in.

       "You're hurt..." they observed, breaking the uneasy silence. "Broke it when you fell, huh? Can you walk, or will I have to carry you?"

       "H— huh? Um..."

       "Right. Got it. Hurry up and get on my back," they instructed, kneeling down with their back facing him so he could climb on with ease.

       "How—" he gasped, withdrawing from them. "How can I trust you?"

       "You'll die if you don't," they stated plainly, glaring back at him. Their gaze sent chills up his spine. It was so... empty. He was sure that not even the most seasoned warrior in his home nation looked so blank. It seemed as if all the light had been sucked from their soul, leaving a hardened shell of what they once were. Even Fatui officials had some kind of light in their face, but they simply did not. It unsettled him. "Get on. Now. You wouldn't last a day out here."

       Though hesitant and utterly terrified, he yielded, reaching up to wrap his arms securely around their neck. They hooked their arms under his thighs and hoisted him up. Then, with a huff, they stood up.

       The silence weighed a little too heavy for the boy's liking. Once the initial terror had worn off, he felt something much warmer bloom in his chest—awe. Absolute, unfettered awe.

       Surely someone as tough as them could help him become more courageous.

       "What's your name?"

       "What, you trying to make conversation? Build rapport? I'm not planning on killing you. Relax," they scoffed. Then, after a brief, awkward silence, they went on, "...It's [Name]."

       "I'm Ajax," he greeted with surprising grit for someone who just fell into the Abyss. "Hey, you're brave, right?"

       "I... I guess?"

       They dared to peek back at him. His eyes shone with light and determination foreign to anything or anyone in the Abyss. It did not belong here. He did not belong here.

       "Teach me how to be brave like that."

       Little did he know that light would disappear soon enough. They simply chose to look away, rather than mourn the loss that was inevitably going to occur.

       "...You'll want to meet my teacher, then. She'll toughen you up."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "What is that?"

       Ajax squeaked slightly, to which their lips twitched upwards into the ghost of a vaguely amused smile. Skirk must have unsettled him even more than they did.

       "A boy."

       Skirk's cold eyes narrowed at them. "No shit, [Name]."

       "He fell and broke his ankle, so I brought him here," they elaborated, kneeling down again so he could easily get off their back without hurting himself even more. He gingerly slid off of them. Once he was off, they stood back up, walking over to her. "Anyway, I see why you wanted to rip my head off when you met me. You're totally right. He looked fucking pathetic."

       "Oh, you get it now, hm?" She smirked, placing a firm hand on their shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day you called someone pathetic."

       They shrugged. "This place changes you, but I suppose I don't have to tell you of all people that." Then, they beckoned her to lean down slightly. When she obliged them, they whispered something inaudible into her ear, occasionally glancing over at Ajax. They eventually withdrew, turning to face him.

       "If it's courage you seek," Skirk said, scrutinizing the boy; he seemed to shrink under her gaze, "you'll indeed find it down here."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Ajax’s time in the Abyss was short. They had briefly wondered if they would ever one day run into him on the surface when they did eventually get out. The thought was oddly nice.

       He changed very fast, they recalled. What was once a timid and easily frightened boy had become a hardened weapon of war that sought out bloodshed just for the thrill of it. It fascinated them, really. Why weren’t they like that? They were but a fraction of the beast that he had become. The sensation of being alive certainly gave them a rush, but they hardly reveled in it the way he did.

       Then again, maybe that’s why they could at least hold their own against Skirk.

       That was something he could never truly manage to achieve. Once in a blue moon, the Snezhnayan boy could hold his own against them, but never Skirk. She was on a different level entirely. Now that they really thought about it, however, it seemed very likely that it was because he just wasn’t level-headed in the way they were.

       That brought another question to mind, however: why wasn’t he level-headed like them? Why did he relish in the bloodshed more than they did?

       The only possible explanation was their origins. Being from Chenyu Vale, it was hardly any surprise that one particular ideology was stamped irremovably into their brain.

       Even so…

       It would be unrealistic to expect that they wouldn’t change during their stay in the Abyss. Their exposure to Abyssal energy was insanely long—the fact that they still cared at all about saving lives was shocking.

       Fourteen months into their time in the Abyss, something in their mind snapped.

       They could recall nothing about their episode. All they remembered was that Skirk had them training, as usual, against hordes of Abyssal monsters. It wasn’t something all too challenging for them; they were quite used to her highly demanding training sessions. Just when they started getting slightly overwhelmed, an unfamiliar rage boiled in their chest, and they blacked out.

       When they came to, all they could see was death.

       Blood soaked their clothes and fingertips. They were quick to come to the horrifying realization that it was not theirs. None of the blood was theirs. Not a single drop was theirs. The shallow scratch on their cheek wasn't even deep enough to bleed. They dared not turn around. Their gaze remained locked into the darkness ahead of them, hands trembling and eyes watering.

       Before they could say or do anything, before Skirk could say or do anything, the Abyss spit them out. It simply... decided it was done. As if it had grown bored, or as if it were finally satisfied with the level of corruption in their mind and soul. They lost consciousness briefly, only to awaken exactly where they had gone missing over a year ago.

       …

       Well, over two weeks ago, they guessed. Time dilation was a difficult thing to get used to.

        “Bright… Archons above…” they groaned, pressing their hands over their eyes in an attempt to gradually adjust to the sheer brightness of the surface. It made them a little sick, if they were to be quite honest; they had grown used to the pitch blackness of the other realm. “Gods, it’s bright…”

        “…[Name]?”

       They peeked through their fingers, squinting in the hopes of being able to make out the figure standing a few feet from them. When it finally hit them just who it was, their heart throbbed. The soft green hair they had grown so accustomed to braiding throughout their childhood, now wild and untamed as a terrible consequence of stress and panic, the tender eyes filled with perhaps a little too much wisdom for a child that age…

       They were really back on the surface. It wasn’t just some sick trick of the mind, no.

       They were home.

        “Bai— Baizhu?”

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       He was quick to call for help, leading them back to their shared Master. Jiangli seemed to almost cry when she saw them again—tears of relief or tears of worry, they didn't know. She reminded them of a concerned mother.

       However, something they dreaded terribly had come to pass.

       Their Master discovered that they were in no need of his healing. They were uninjured. All that blood was not theirs. It was never theirs. They were completely unharmed.

       "There isn't a single scratch on you."

       They intentionally avoided his gaze, instead focusing on their hands rested in their lap. Absentmindedly, they noted how calloused and scarred their hands were compared to how soft they had once been. The hands of a healer had become something far more sinister. Changsheng was eerily quiet.

       "...[Name]?"

       "No"—they sniffled, finally meeting their Master’s golden irises filled with tender concern, concern they did not deserve after what they had done—"there isn't."

       The conversation died right then and there.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Their departure from Chenyu Vale was sudden and unexpected. Many did not know why they left. All they left behind that could explain why they left was a small envelope for Baizhu, but they honestly didn't know if he would even open it. Leaving him without a single word... it made them want to cry every time they thought about it.

       The goodbyes they said to Jiangli and their Master were tearful, but neither of the two could stop them from leaving after learning that they had suffered so much. After all, what place did a killer have in Chenyu Vale?

        ‘You’re not a killer,’ Jiangli had insisted. ‘You’re not. You belong here, with us.’

       They disagreed with her sentiment. How could she still look at them with such kindness, even after knowing what awful things they had done? Maybe that’s why they left without speaking to Baizhu. Maybe they knew he would have pleaded with them to stay. Maybe they knew they would have stayed if it were he who asked.

       Many of their years were spent wandering Teyvat, but every now and then...

       They'd settle in Snezhnaya to catch up with an old acquaintance of theirs after tracking down his whereabouts.

       "The Fatui, hm? Looks like you really aren't some scared little kid anymore. Shame. You were quite a cute scared little kid."

       They hopped from nation to nation on a whim, picking up knowledge and still studying medicine on the side, though they wouldn't dare call themselves a doctor of any kind. It was Liyue that they often avoided, and if they really couldn't help it, they'd sneak along the border like some kind of internationally wanted criminal. The idea of running into Baizhu would always send their stomach into knots. What would they even say to him? He owed them nothing. He owed them no kind of forgiveness.

       'And yet, despite all that...' they mused, staring vacantly at the sleeping Jiangli at their side, 'here I am. I won't let anything hurt you, even if it means putting myself at risk.'

       Their fingers gently ran through her tangled locks.

       The constant pulsating glow of their Cryo vision was indication enough that, through their own means, they were keeping those terrible god remains at bay. Between the gorgeous icy energy that generated from them, a magenta glow was woven in like some kind of skilled artist's tapestry. It was as beautiful as it was unsettling.

       The Abyss would always be a part of them. They might as well put Skirk's teachings to use.

       "Why do you do such insane things?" they wondered aloud, head tilting back to shift their empty gaze towards the roof of the cavern. "You know that if I destroy those remains, your husband will die, and yet... I followed you nonetheless, knowing I would be at an impasse until someone came to rescue us, knowing I would inevitably cross paths with the one I have fought so hard to avoid. Why are you like this? So irresponsible, but then again... I am no better. I wouldn't be here if I was."

       "Jiangli!"

       "Well... it doesn't matter now," they murmured quietly, gently shaking her shoulder. "Jiangli, wake up. Baizhu and your husband are here. Some others too… I don’t know them though."

       "We found her!... but who's that beside her?"

       Baizhu was oddly silent, watching how they treated her with such tenderness, helping her sit up when she groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Jialiang did not so much as flinch, however—he rushed up to them.

       "[Name]! How is she?! Is she okay?!"

       "Gods, Jialiang—" they hissed, pinching his arm in a soft attempt at scolding him. They vaguely resembled a parent chiding their child, despite the fact that he was older than them. "Don't run like that. You'll keel over dead if you keep that up. She's fine. She was just sleeping, I promise. I ensured her safety."

       "Your ability to stave off the effects of the god remains is rather impressive, [Name]."

       "...It's really not, Baizhu," they opposed quietly, rising to their feet. They dared not meet his eyes, looking anywhere but at him—they would feel an overwhelming sense of guilt if they were to see the evidence of his and Changsheng's contract, the contract that was always meant to be theirs. On top of that… they were certain he could see right through them, see the way they huffed out their breaths in a labored attempt at getting enough oxygen. "Don't try to make conversation. I'm not planning on running away this time. Jiangli probably did this on purpose... she forced my hand. It— look, it doesn’t matter. We'll talk about this, about everything, later."

       He seemed content with that answer—for the time being, at least.

       "Well, that's a first," Changsheng hissed from around the doctor's neck, "now isn't it?"

       "You're getting sassy in your old age, Changsheng," they commented. "Haven't changed a single bit since the last time I saw you, hmm? Sassy old lady~"

       "Hey!"

       "Sorry, wait— Paimon's confused," the floating fairy interrupted. ‘Oh,’ they thought, ‘so that’s who Ajax was talking about.’ "Knowing Baizhu is one thing, but knowing Changsheng is waaaay different! Who are you?"

       "My name is [Name]," they introduced with deceptive calmness that masked the pure, unadulterated panic they were experiencing on the inside. "You may have heard of me through a certain Fatui Harbinger. ‘Codename Childe, but I also go by Tartaglia,’ you know. The ginger with a bunch of cute siblings. Have you met them? They’re the cutest. Anyway, the harbinger has quite the collection of good things to say about you, traveler."

       Aether tensed slightly, shooting Baizhu an odd look, almost as if to ask who he was associating with in his spare time.

       "Relax. I'm not a part of the Fatui," they dismissed with a wave of their hand. "Those people are a bit insane, if you ask me, supporting a deity who hardly seems to care for them or the general population of her nation... Erm. Anyway. I only happen to know Ajax because we were both victims of the same circumstance a while back."

       "What..." Aether trailed off, blinking. Something in the way he looked at them, looked at the blankness in their eyes, said that he already understood. "...What does that mean?"

       "Ask him yourself. Do me a favor, though, and tell me what he says. I'm genuinely curious."

       "Hey!" Paimon cut in with an annoyed huff, stomping her foot like an aggravated toddler. The thought made them smile slightly. "Stop ignoring Paimon! You still didn't answer her question!"

       "[Name] was another one of my Master's disciples, like Jiangli," Baizhu explained on their behalf, briefly glancing in their direction. "Although... I haven't seen them in several years. Like Jiangli, they too ran away."

       "Oh, Gods, Baizhu," they groaned, turning to face him properly for the first time in years. Their breath almost dared to hitch at the golden irises that stared back at them. "Don't be dramatic. Are you telling people I ran away? I didn't run away. I told our Master why I was leaving and when I planned on doing so. It's Jiangli who really didn't tell anyone why she left. I wasn't that secretive about why I left, you know."

       "Nuance."

       They then softened up slightly, running their hand through their hair. A deep sigh left through their nose. "...You really haven't changed at all."

       He seemed to smile a bit at their exasperation. It was only fair, they supposed. They had left him in the dark for years. He deserved to find some amusement in the uncomfortable situation they were both forced into.

       "Well... whatever. We have bigger issues than my past friendships right now," they said, crossing their arms over their chest. "What are we doing about these remains? I have protected Jiangli's body and mind, but only to an extent. She is infected and it will continue to worsen if we do nothing. However, if we destroy these remains..."

       "Indeed..." Baizhu murmured, turning to the man in question. "If we destroy these remains, your life will come to an end."

       "If you knew what she was doing," Aether cut in, "why didn't you stop her?"

       "You cannot stop a woman like that once she has her heart set on something. All I could do was watch from the background until she put herself in too much danger, to the point where I'd have to defend her," they sighed, "such as what she did here."

       Jialiang looked between them and Baizhu. "...I had wondered when this day might come."

       Jiangli was silent.

       "We've been working our butts off to save Jialiang's life!" Paimon shouted. "We can't just give up on him now! Baizhu, you're a great doctor. Surely you've gotta know of some other way we can save him, right? Or— [Name]! If you studied with Baizhu, you should know a few things too, right?"

       "Sure. I still remember some things from that time," they replied, tilting their head back a bit so they could gaze at Jiangli's husband. "Jialiang could continue taking the poison. Jiangli is... in decent condition overall, so it wouldn't be the end of the world to delay the destruction of the remains, but she will fall more ill as time goes on. Either way, someone will die if we don't do something."

       "[Name], you've been watching Jiangli," Jialiang stated, standing up to meet their eyes. "How long does she have?"

       "If she completely stopped coming here..." they mused thoughtfully, "a few weeks at most would be my guess. You'd probably get a more precise answer from Baizhu, though."

       "I would say that is accurate," Baizhu agreed, nodding. "I could... extend that time, however, if I were to treat her using a secret art."

       "You..." They wanted to scold him, chide him for even suggesting such a thing, but in the end, they did not. It would make them a hypocrite. They simply bit their tongue. Jiangli watched closely with a gentle gaze comparable to that of an aunt or a mother as the various emotions flickered across their expression.

       "...But what would be the point of that?" Jialiang lamented. "Dr. Baizhu, I am all too aware of the dangers of god remains. You are not the first to mention it to me. [Name] often warned me, but... I did not listen. If I continue to sustain my own life using this wretched substance, then not only would Jiangli have to keep risking her life to make my medicine for me, but I would have to live with the looming threat of these remains breaking out and wreaking havoc not just upon me, but my entire family. I know for a fact that I should have died over a decade ago. The fact that I've been around to see Ayu grow up is already a great blessing from Rex Lapis. If my choice can keep Jiangli alive, then... even if I die..."

       "Jialiang..." Paimon trailed off.

       The man chuckled sadly. "After cheating death for so long, it seems I've grown somewhat addicted to life."

       "Life is a terrible drug for those of us who often come face-to-face with death," they admitted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take a minute to talk with Jiangli. We'll wait."

       "Thank you..." he said, kneeling down at his tired wife's side, "I'm sorry that I won't be able to repay your kindness in this life."

       "Jialiang...” Paimon cried, wiping her face with her little balled up hands. “Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], is there really nothing else any of you can do?"

       "Cheating death is beyond my ability," they answered apologetically. "I know much of arts that are... beyond this world, but they are not used for preserving nor extending life. I wish I could do more, but I can’t. My apologies."

       "I am sure that over the years, Jiangli will have tried all the conventional methods known to humankind. As for the less conventional methods, I have little expertise besides Changsheng's secret art..."

       Aether's gaze flickered between them and Baizhu as he said that, before settling back on the Liyuean doctor. "...They're aware of it?"

       "Try to avoid treating me like an outsider," they half-scolded. "Believe it or not, I was meant to be bound to Changsheng. Fate had different plans, however, so yes. I am very much aware. Even through the medium, that being Changsheng, none of Baizhu's predecessors could manage to cheat death."

       "Mortals are fated to grow old and pass on when their natural lifespan runs out," the snake mused. "If it were so easy to combat the natural processes of aging and death, Jiangli would not have had to resort to unnatural methods."

       Paimon sniffled. "What a crazy situation... Jiangli risked it all to save Jialiang's life, and now, Jialiang has to sacrifice himself to save Jiangli. What's the point of it all..?"

       "Love, I have heard, tends to make people do insane things," they stated. "It's quite tragic, really."

       The traveler nodded. "All we can do now is honor Jialiang's decision and bear witness."

       "...I've seen many final farewells in my time," Baizhu commented softly, quietly, "but I can never get used to it."

       "In the human realm, all things must come to an end. Is it not a fitting end to die for a worthy cause? At least... that's what generations of Masters before you always believed."

       They wondered if Changsheng was somehow trying to be reassuring.

       "The path they chose was indeed a heroic one," Baizhu agreed, "but when I think of those who would willingly sacrifice themselves for others... I cannot help but think that theirs are the lives least deserving of death."

       The quiet whispers shared between the couple gradually died down. It was then that Jialiang stood up.

       "I've said my goodbyes. My time has come. Do what you must."

       "As you wish."

       "We have not been in contact for years," they spoke up, stepping forward and raising their hand, "but I know you well enough to know that a man dying indirectly by your own hand will weigh on your mind. I will take care of this. Stand down, Baizhu."

       The doctor seemed momentarily stunned, but he nodded nonetheless, backing off. "...Very well, [Name]."

       With a chilling wind and a flick of their wrist, the god remains dissipated with a hiss.

       It wasn't very long until Jialiang collapsed.

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Jialiang..! Jialiang!"

       The man shot up with a gasp, instinctively clutching at his chest.

       "Dad! Are you awake?!"

       "Jiangli..? Ayu? Didn't I..." Jialiang trailed off, gaze drifting to the seals stuck on his skin. "Huh? What are these?"

       Changsheng’s voice drew his attention. "How does it feel to come back to life?"

       "Do you feel strange or different in any way?" Baizhu questioned, walking to his bediside. "If so, could you describe it to me in detail?"

       "Dr. Baizhu! I thought I was going to..."

       "Die? You did, actually," they stated, gently holding his arm, carefully inspecting the sigils as to not disrupt the delicate imitation of immortality that the doctor had created. "To think this is what Baizhu's been doing in my absence... absolutely fascinating. Sorry, Jialiang, do you mind? I'll back off if it's uncomfortable. Don’t be afraid to tell me.”

       Jiangli giggled at her husband's look of sheer confusion.

       "Uh... no, you're— you're okay..? Go ahead."

       Baizhu's lips quirked up at the sight of their enthusiasm. He said nothing of it, though. "As things stand now, you're more akin to a zombie than a human."

       "...I'm a zombie?!"

       "That's right. Before we set off, I asked Qiqi to prepare and Elixir of Immortality. With its help, you have been suspended in the space between life and death. Of course, this is but a crude imitation of an adeptus art. I don't expect it to extend your life indefinitely. Whether it will keep you alive for a few days, a few months, or a few years...” Baizhu mused, “I am as interested as you to find out, but however long you have left, I believe it should be more than sufficient time for you to say your final goodbyes before departing the world in peace. ...I hope Director Hu finds this arrangement to be a satisfactory one?"

       "An Elixir of Immortality? How'd you cook that up? Ugh," the girl in question groaned, "leave it to you to work on something like that behind my back..."

       "It's a work in progress that hardly lives up to its name, and it would've had no effect if not for Jialiang's iron will." Baizhu shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. "In the end, I am merely a doctor. I understand very little about the great principles governing life and death, and the perpetual cycle of yin and yang. All I know is that if I am presented with a life that deserves to be saved, I will do everything within my power to save it. Even this would have counted for nothing if not for Director Hu's assistance... after all, did you not tell Jialiang to show us the way before we set off for Qingce Village?"

       "Oops! Aaaand, I'm busted..."

       "Without Director Hu nudging things in the right direction, we may not have found Jiangli and [Name] in time. They could only hold those remains off for so long."

       "It wouldn't have meant anything if not for your friend over there," she pointed out. "They nudged me first."

       "I did," they conceded, finally backing away from Jialiang after finishing their investigation of his sigils. "What of it? I was worried about Jialiang and Jiangli. I told Director Hu who I was and where I was headed after eavesdropping, and then she nudged Jialiang in that direction. It's not that serious."

       "Eavesdropping is kind of serious!" Paimon exclaimed, shooting them an odd look.

       "Fair point, but it's not like I was eavesdropping on someone I've never met. What could Baizhu have said to you that I wouldn't have already known? Absolutely nothing.”

       "I knew there were people listening in on our conversation back then," Aether murmured. "To think it was you two..."

       "No wonder he didn't mention the Elixir back then," Director Hu muttered to herself. "I thought he was being frank and transparent with me for once, but apparently not."

       Jialiang cleared his throat, laughing a bit. "Director Hu told me to keep her suggestion a secret, and [Name] had told Jiangli and I a while ago to keep it a secret that they were in Liyue, but it seems nothing escapes Dr. Baizhu's attention..."

       "Never underestimate a serpent's sense of smell!" Changsheng hissed, almost seeming to be proud.

       "All I wanted was to help Jialiang find his missing wife as soon as possible, so that he could be on his way to the afterlife without any unfulfilled wishes making the journey more difficult than it needs to be..." Hu Tao sighed. "Leave it to Bubu Pharmacy to snatch the perfect opportunity right outta my hands at the last hurdle! Never mind, I'll just have to put it down in the books as a deferred consideration... one Qiqi was enough of a conundrum; the last thing I need's another one. If I'd known this was coming, I would have whisked him off to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor the moment I found him."

       "Y— you stay away from my dad! When I grow up, I'm gonna become a better doctor than Mom and Baizhu, and cure Dad for good!" Ayu declared, making them chuckle into their hand. They ruffled his brown hair fondly. "A— and [Name]! Better than [Name] too!"

       "I don't really practice medicine anymore, honey. I definitely don't count as a doctor. You'd outdo me within a week."

       Jiangli grinned at them, teasing, "I don't know, [Name]. For someone who 'doesn't practice medicine anymore,' you still act as if you do. You seem very fascinated with Baizhu's imitation of immortality on a very deep level.”

       "Old habits die hard," they simply answered. "What can I say?”

       "Oh? Is that so?" Hu Tao chimed, turning to Ayu. "Well, you wouldn't be the first person who's tried to put Wangsheng Funeral Parlor out of business. If you're serious about it, you'll have your work cut out for you."

       Just like that, she turned on her heel and left.

       "Phew... is she finally gone?" Qiqi peeked out from her hiding spot. Upon seeing them, and noting that Hu Tao was gone, she ran over to them, presenting them with a silk flower. "I meant to give it to you earlier... because it's pretty, like you... but I forgot..."

       Their face turned serious as they faced the Liyuean doctor. "Baizhu."

       "Hm?"

       "I'm keeping her. She's mine now. This is my child now."

       Both Baizhu and Jiangli chuckled at how purely enamored they were with her, kneeling down so Qiqi could tuck the flower behind their ear. They cooed over her sweetness, patting her head lovingly. Ayu almost seemed a little jealous of the attention they showered her in.

       "All's well that ends well!" Paimon chimed, turning to Aether. "If you ask Paimon, we should probably go do something to celebrate this heard-earned family reunion..."

       "Paimon's idea of a celebration can only mean one thing..."

       "Hehe! At times like this, a grand celebratory feast is in order!"

       Jialiang chuckled, "It feels like it was a whole lifetime ago when I last talked with Jiangli and Ayu around the dinner table."

       "Rightfully so," they said, "you've been through a lot."

       Aether nodded. "This was a hard-earned meal."

       "Yaaay~! Paimon can't wait! Alright, first thing's first—off to the market for some fresh ingredients! Let's go~!"

       "Wait up!" Ayu shouted, running after them. "I'll come too!"

       "Baizhu, thank you so, so much for everything you've done for us..." Jiangli thanked, then turning to place a hand on their shoulder as many had done before her. "And [Name], I would not be as well as I am now if not for you. You've been standoffish for the past decade, but I know you still care. For all of us."

       "Ah... I wasn't trying to come off as cold. Things just got tough for me after that incident. I never want you guys to feel like I don't care, you know..."

       "Don't mention it, Jiangli," Baizhu reassured. "I was just doing my duty."

       "Just your duty, huh..." she mused wistfully. "Baizhu, Changsheng, [Name], would you mind if we took this conversation outside?"

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "Time flies. It's been so long since we've been together like this... Changsheng, you're the same as ever," Jiangli laughed. "You haven't changed one bit!"

       "That's literally what I said to her, too," they exclaimed. "See, I knew I was right! Some things just don't change, hm?"

       "...You two, on the other hand, have changed a lot," Changsheng replied, a thoughtful lilt to her tone. She certainly knew more than what she was letting on.

       "You're right," Jiangli admitted. "My younger self would have never imagined that things would one day turn out this way."

       "I doubt that any of us imagined our lives would turn out this way," they added. "I mean, really... our time in Chenyu Vale seems so far gone now, doesn’t it?”

       “It really does,” the woman agreed.

       The evening light bathed their face in yellow-orange light; it wasn't quite late enough yet for the light to take on a more golden hue, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Even after all the horrors they had witnessed, they still had the capacity to recognize beauty.

       "Liyue's so pretty at this time, isn't it?" they wondered aloud.

       "You always did think so," Baizhu replied. "That much hasn't changed."

       An oddly comfortable silence settled for but a few short moments as the small group descended the last of the stairs that led to Bubu Pharmacy. Jiangli was the first to break it:

        “I’ve taken a look at your Elixir of Immortality, Baizhu, as has [Name]. It isn’t altogether dissimilar from the poison I concocted in terms of the way it functions.”

        “I have to say, Jiangli, it was a stroke of genius to use poison to maintain life. I hope you’re not too upset at me for… copying your methods?”

        “No, not at all. With your intellect, even if you’d never seen my poison, I believe you would have eventually arrived at the same approach, but I’m still impressed by how quickly you gained such a thorough understanding of it. Jialiang’s still only been in your care for a few days. Not just that—you even managed to improve upon the original formula. That cannot be explained by intellect alone…”

        “Ten mora says he tried it out on himself.”

        “Ha!” Changsheng laughed. “Told you the truth would come out sooner or later.”

        “Knew it,” they hummed. “Life force has never been the only thing Changsheng’s contract allows her contractees to transfer. I know simply because I used to catch our master doing things like that all the time.”

        “Baizhu…” Jiangli trailed off.

        “…Nothing gets past you two. Yes, Changsheng’s secret art also allows for the transfer of toxins and diseases. When I treated Jialiang for the second time, I transferred some of the poison from his body onto my own. Not only did this allow me to alleviate the burden on him, but it also gave me an opportunity to study its properties. There is no need to worry about any long-term consequences to my health, however. Now that the source has been destroyed, any remaining poison in me will have already dissipated.”

        “But you took such a huge risk,” Jiangli opposed. “If we hadn’t destroyed the gods’ remains back there, then even you might have…” She then sighed. “What am I saying? I’m in no position to criticize you for this, and if [Name] knew… it’s no wonder why they were adamant on destroying the remains themselves.”

       They nodded. “I had to be sure they would be gone. Believe me, whatever was there before… it is not there now and will never be there again.”

        “Leave it to you to see through us all, even from such a distance,” she said with a fond, wistful smile. She turned back to Baizhu. “The reason I left our Master and went into hiding all those years ago was that he was getting old, and I didn’t want him using up any more of his own life force to treat my husband, but in the end… how were my methods any different than his? I risked one life to save another, and then you tried the poison on yourself, too… It looks like both of us have ended up going the same way as out master before us. As for [Name]… heh, they’re hardly any better.”

       Baizhu seemed intrigued by her statement. “How so?”

        “[Name], why don’t you tell Baizhu how you absorbed the majority of that gods’ remains to keep them from getting to me?”

        “It’s different,” they insisted, gaze shifting towards the golden sky. "I mean, I did do that, yes—that’s not what I’m denying. You two do it because if there is a life in front of you deserving of being saved, you save it, and… ten years ago, I would have done it solely for the same reasons. Now, though… It’s different. That incident changed me, Jiangli. I do it because I get a rush from surviving things like that.”

        “Nonetheless, your intentions towards others are still good,” Jiangli said, gently squeezing their upper arm. “Would you have done it if you didn’t care? If you weren’t scared for my life? You said it yourself. You were worried about my husband and I. You put yourself in a situation you knew would inevitably lead to you and Baizhu meeting again. You put yourself at risk, and that is what really makes me wonder: are all disciples of Chenyu Vale destined to turn out this way? To live a short life, having given away our own for the sake of others? To fight relentlessly against the natural course of life and death, whatever the cost? …Maybe our fate is sealed the moment we decide to study medicine.”

        “We are doctors, Jiangli. We ought never say that anyone’s fate is sealed.”

        “Baizhu, I can tell that over the years, you’ve used the contract with Changsheng to transfer many diseases and toxins onto yourself. There are so many, that some of them I don’t even recognize… can you still stop it before it’s too late?”

        “Don’t fool yourself. We all know the answer to that question, Jiangli,” they interrupted, “and we all know it’s a very honest no. All disciples of Chneyu Vale believe in the same core principle. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

        “Heey~!” Paimon shouted, waving the group over. “Food’s ready!”

        “Mom!” Ayu exclaimed excitedly, running up to the woman. “Come and join us! Aether taught me a load of new recipes and said even Dad’ll be able to taste them! Come and try them out!”

        “Yes, darling, mom’ll be there in just a minute… Hey, slow down!” she exclaimed, chasing after her child. She stopped briefly, turning back to face them and Baizhu. “Baizhu, I know I won’t be able to convince you, but… please don’t forget that, if one day, you’re not around anymore… Qiqi, Gui, and all the friends that have grown fond of you, they will all miss you dearly.”

        “There’s no need to worry, Jiangli. I know what I’m doing.”

        “…I can only hope so,” she sighed, “and [Name]? I believe you know where this conversation needs to go. I was honest about why I left. It’s your turn now.”

       She walked off after her son.

       A silence settled in her absence. This time, however, it was tense.

       Then, Baizhu seemed to search his pockets for something. His face brightened slightly when he found it: a small envelope yellowed with age. He handed it over to them.

       "You... never opened it?" they wondered softly, holding the letter they'd written all those years ago with such delicacy that they weren't even aware they were capable of anymore.

       "I wanted to hear the explanation from you."

       "This was from me," they tried to counter.

       "[Name]."

       "Yeah, yeah... I get it. You wanted to hear it from me directly. I know," they sighed, leaning back against the railing, fidgeting with the paper envelope help in their hands. "It really isn't a pretty story, but if anyone deserves to know... I suppose it's you. I’m surprised Changsheng didn’t tell you already, given how inclined she is to gossiping—”

        “Hey!”

        “—Just... please. Do me a favor and try not to look at me too differently after you hear it."

       Baizhu reached out to their shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. "I just want to know why you left so abruptly. We were so close. There is nothing you could say or do that would make me resent you."

       They smiled bitterly. "We'll see about that."

                         — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       For the first time in a very long time, they spoke to Baizhu.

       Not superficially, not as distant professionals, but as friends. It was a moment of honest vulnerability that truly frightened them. They hadn't been that vulnerable since before their fall.

       The silence weighed heavily on their chest as they gazed anywhere but at their former friend. Somehow, the anticipation for his response was far more suffocating than any other in the past—even the anticipation for their Master's response was never this heavy.

       Then, the Liyuean doctor reached out, gingerly tugging them towards his figure. His arms settled comfortably around their waist.

       The weak beating of his heart and the wheezing breaths he took prompted them to sob. The sound they let out was overwhelmingly heartbreaking; it was somehow even worse than the cry they had let out upon taking that first life all those years ago in the Abyss. All the pain they suppressed for all the years they hid from their home, their friends... it all came flooding out at once.

       "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

       "You went through all of that," Baizhu whispered, his voice meant only for them (and Changsheng by default…) to hear as a hand ran soothingly through their hair, "and you truly believed we would hold that against you?"

       "Yes!" they wept. Archons... they hadn't felt this pathetic since their initial descent into the Abyss. "Gods, Baizhu, of course I thought you all would hold it against me! I was supposed to be Changsheng's next contractee! It was never supposed to be you! I didn't want it to be you!"

       "I know."

       "It's not fair! You— you're here giving away your life force, and you're going to die young, and it's going to be my fault! I should have done something differently! Maybe then we wouldn't be in this situation!"

       "It's not your fault."

       "It is!"

       "It's not."

       "You're suffering because of me!"

       "[Name]."

       "I only ever do bad things to you," they sobbed. "Why do you still want to forgive me? Why are you wasting your time comforting me? You should just move on. You're better off without me."

       "Stay in Liyue."

       "H— huh?" they sniffled. "What? No, I... No!”

        “Stay, [Name]. Please.”

        “No! Why do you even want me to stay here?! You should hate me! You should—”

        “You’re reckless with your own life. Do you really think I don’t see it? You claim to get a rush from being alive, but… I do not believe that is the only thing you seek out by putting yourself at risk. Mentally well people don’t behave this way. Let me help you. Please."

        ‘No shit,’ they wanted to say, ‘I haven’t been well since that day.’

        “Are you saying you don’t trust me to be on my own?”

        “I am.”

       Their throat closed. They squeezed their eyes shut.

       He was right, much as they hated it.

        “…Fucking hypocrite.”

       "That may be so.” He smiled ruefully. “If that isn’t good enough of a reason, then… I’m asking you to stay because I want you to stay, [Name]. Stay with me for a little while." His eyes were filled with a gentleness that they wholeheartedly believed should not have been directed at them. "We still get along, don't we? Though you may have changed, I genuinely find it hard to believe anything about us has changed, so stay. Let's get to know each other again, hm?"

       They blinked. Once, twice. Tears pricked at their eyelashes.

       "...Okay."

       They still failed to part from Baizhu, but he didn't seem to mind, only resuming his motions of brushing his fingers through their hair.

       "Qiqi quite likes your company, too."

       "Yes..." they murmured. "Um, a lot of kids seem to, you know... Ayu, my other friend's siblings... I don't really get it, but they, um, they all seem to like me."

       For what was the first time in decades, they felt truly at peace. They'd often engage in meaningless conversation under the sunset's light with Baizhu in their youth, gathering herbs and the like for their shared Master. To do something so similar once again...

       It soothed the beast their soul had become. 

       The sunset's light, however, did not dance in their eyes as it once had.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot! taglist: @zeldadou, @ophelium-flowers, @aikitsuki.

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Ficfinder finds: firefight

Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Summary: No summary

firefight Chapter 5: Appraisal and Ratings

(Don't know what fanfic "Appraisal and Ratings" means? Check out my explanation on my Main Masterpost! Looking for a different fanfic to read? Head on over to my Fanfic List Masterpost!)

Disclaimer: This fanfic is written by, @remedyturtles so go show them some love and support!! They write top notch fic's!

The fanfic ratings are not based on quality, favoritism, or how good I think it is, but rather, how intense a subject may be. Like a movie review, or the tags on Ao3, letting the readers know what to expect.

Plot: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Plot is two out of five!! This chapter isn't as plot heavy, however, that doesn't mean what's happening isn't relevant. Everything that happens in firefight is something important, so remember the interactions in this chapter for when reading later on."

Suspense/Mystery: 💛💛💛🖤🖤

"Suspense/Mystery is three out of five!! The suspense in this chapter was amazing!! The standoff between Donnie and Leo had a lot of suspense laced into it, making for a tense read."

Angst/Hurt: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Angst/Hurt is five out of five!! Aw heck the angst/hurt in this chapter is definitely there. I can't stand to see the twins fighting, augh it hurts my soul!!"

Fluff/Comfort: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Fluff/Comfort is one out of five!! This chapter has practically no comfort to pair with the hurt. Its just arguing, desperation, and sadness."

Emotions Conveyed: 💛💛🖤🖤🖤

"Emotions Conveyed gets a two out of five!! This chapter really invoked a feeling of stress and sadness in me. It won't mess with your head to badly, though it'll still be a tense read."

Drama/Tension Level: 💛💛💛💛💛

"Drama/Tension Level is five out of five!! Like I've been saying, this chapter is a VERY tense read!! The tension is very thick, and the drama is intense!!"

Triggers: 💛🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Triggers for this chapter are one out of five!! Only the basic triggers for this fic apply to this chapter. The usual of starvation, dehydration, and overall despair."

Legibility (Reading): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Reading) is five out of five!! Once again, would highly recommend reading this chapter!! Very smooth, very enjoyable, wonderful read!!"

Legibility (Audio): 💛💛💛💛💛

"Legibility (Audio) is five out of five!! One hundred percent this chapter is a good one to listen to! Whether reading or listening to, this chapter is good both ways!!"

Length: 💛 💛 💛🖤🖤

"Length is three out of five!! Chapter 5 of firefight takes about 25-26 minuets to listen to!!"

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

Next Chapter ->

<- Previous

Firefight: Story Ratings and Chapter List

Personal thoughts on chapter below cut (Contains Spoilers)

"I really think we have enough problems without you creating new ones. I actually don't think I've ever felt this frustrated with you and I survived your entire Nyan Cat phase." Donnie's brain immediately began to play the Nyan Cat song, which he had listened on loop for weeks. It was a particularly stark contrast of that moment to this one, that made him feel off-balance and unwell. Sugar sweet music as he watched the wretched expression on Leo's face twist and try to find somewhere to settle. What game his twin was going to try and play next to win.

I know this chapter is supposed to be on the more serious side, but this was just really funny to me!! I remember being younger, and thinking Nyan Cat was great lol.

Donnie really let himself sink into the freezing atmosphere, weaponizing all his innocent little brother energy, "But Leo, I'm cold." "Evil." Leo pointed directly at him. "Evil. Put that face away. What are you, Mikey?"

I can just imagine this scene so vividly, but its a lot funnier in my mind lol. Donnie, with huge sparkly eyes, pouting ever so slightly. I know I said this chapter is on the more intense side, which it is, but my brain is also just broken lol.

"So your hypothesis is that because Dad was capable of using your sword, it is a Hamato shared power instead of just Dad being incredibly versatile?" Donnie asked, managing to get his voice in something resembling his preferred monotone instead of this tortured arguing that was all Leo's fault for starting. "My hippopotamus is that it'd be stupid if we didn't at least try and see how many assets were have at our disposal." Leo replied, rolling his eyes up towards the shallow ceiling, flopping the hand away from his face. "I am not proposing any semi-aquatic mammals, thank you." Donnie said, stiffly. He spun the sword agilely, having practiced with enough weapons over the years that a sword wasn't too hard to play with. There wasn't any noticeable spark of ninpo, however. "I doubt this will work, unless you feel as if you'd be able to build constructs like I do. Hell, can you imagine doing Mikey's chain thing?"

:) Hippopotamus

His markings lit the corpse in faint violet. Not human, not Kraang, something slumped over with jaw detached and hanging. Painted on the inside was some kind of writing -- whatever it was, the same alien word over and over -- and the alien's appendage was torn open and caked in the same dark substance covering the wall. Something about the stillness of the corpse, the vacant stare of what could've been a face -- it immediately turned Donnie's stomach, let alone the desperation needed to decorate the walls of your tomb in your own blood. He wanted to know what the word was. He hoped he never had to know.

I wonder what everyone imagined the alien to look like. The description is a little vague, leaving so much of it up to the imagination. I wonder, was the alien in peoples minds, ugly, pretty, cool, or something else? Perhaps they based it off of another design they've seen before, their brain latching onto the first idea it could generate. When we hear the word alien, does it influence what we see or imagine? Would something else have been imagined if the word 'creature' or 'being' was used?

Through the steam on the other side, maybe Leo had thought he wouldn't see, or maybe he had no idea he was subconsciously doing it -- but he signed his real answer, a fist in a circle against his chest. I'm sorry.

I enjoy how actual sign language signs are used in this fic. Many fics I've read don't elaborate on what signs are being used. Its a small detain, but a special one.

[jeremy-queere]

hi! i just binge-read all of OOIM in almost one sitting, and i have Thoughts about it, and i didn’t think dumping them all unorganised in your ao3 comment section would be the best option? so i’m just going to gush a little bit in your inbox here. i hope you don’t mind!!

overall, i was hooked INSTANTLY- i love your characterisation, especially for jeremy 1.0, and the repurposing of lyrics to a repeated dialogue was one of my favourite bits (also!!! your rewriting of lyrics to fit the fic and to serve as a chapter summary?? that was SO clever i loved guessing the song they came from and humming them before i started the new chapter….)

before you mentioned TGWDLM, i got the vibes - the whole “everyone you know is slowly being infected with this Thing” was written so legitimately scary to me. like it was Tense. turn a corner and yup, they got squipped. oh so did your other classmate. yep, and them too. i’m a big fan of TGWDLM, and i LOVED the apocalypse feel in OOIM; like yeah, they’re trying to stop the Horror, but to do that they also have to Survive, and the odds of that happening aren’t looking too good either. literally every chapter i was screaming JEREMY!!! SQUEREMY!!!!! GO CHECK ON MICHAEL!!! PLEASE!!!!

(all the talk of squeremy being michael’s meat shield…….. houuuuh. i knew something had to be coming but it still HURT!!!)

i just think that this fic was done INCREDIBLY well. i enjoyed it so so so much!!! (the ending i cried a little at!!) thank you for writing it!!!

i’m in the process of reading the other fics you linked in OOIM, but i wanted to let you know how much i loved yours :-)

Oh my goodness. OK. I'm reading through this ask slowly to savor it.

Thank you! I wouldn't mind writing Jeremy 1.0 sometime (or Christine, who is fun to write) but the opportunity hasn't come up. I kind of sandwiched in the "talking to themself" chapter because I wanted a little reminder of their roots. They can still do a great impression of both Jeremy and the SQUIP if anyone asks. The only person they've asked has said no. :( :'(

I've been surprised at the great reaction to those lyric changes. They're fun but I know I came up with them on a whim at the last second, so it's nice seeing folks enjoy them.

I started rereading that chapter today, and I think your own writing will go through a cycle of "this is brilliant" -> "i still love this" -> "oh no it's cringe!!" -> don't look at it for a year -> "this is brilliant" Sadly, that chapter is at the cringe stage for me right now. I feel like the pacing was all over the place. But it was supposed to be a single date, and Michael is the one who made it a multi-scene production.

In my writing drafts, I have a running tally of who and who isn't SQUIPped and whether this is common knowledge yet or not lol.

😂 Sadly a pretty un-Jeremy-ish thing for them to do, to ignore Michael that long (if only because of their history making that so touchy).

I have an open offer for whenever I haven't updated the fic in 2 months that, if you want to, you can message me for plot spoilers. At some point I was going to just post the plot summary and leave it as a deadfic (because I always hoped authors would do just that, if the fic would never be finished anyway)... Yet, 4 or 5 years later, here we are. I'll write more at some point. Hard to tell when that point will be though. I wrote like 40k in a month and then the rest has been in random bits and pieces since then.

I loved hearing your thoughts! I crave them. Thank you so much for sending this ask!

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Aftermath | Chapter 6 | Eddie Munson

Eddie Munson x Female OC | E.M x Karmen Jones

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 Chapter 15.

Chapter Summary: It's been a couple of days since Karmen suggested that she and Eddie learn ASL. In his moments alone, Eddie thinks back on the big things that happened in past few days.

Story Summary: This story takes place after the canonical events of Season 4. Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down after 'dying' in Dustin's arms. He wakes up again in the hospital and is reunited with his loved ones that he hasn't seen since before Chrissy's death. This story covers Eddie's time in the hospital and overall physical recovery after the Upside Down.

This fic is part of the She Feels Like Home series. It sits between Boxing Day and Drop Out but can be read as a standalone. 

Tags: Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Comfort, Medical Talk, ASL, American Sign Language), ASD !Eddie, Autistic Eddie, Non-verbal Eddie, Abandonment Issues, Canonical Murder, Implied cheating (no actual cheating), Lying and manipulating, Blackmail, Bribery, Season 4 Spoilers

Words: 4k

A/N: This chapter isn't as heavy as the others but is full of lots of important info for Eddie and the story moving forward. I hope you guys like it! Also, Eddie referring to his autistic traits as 'his crazy' is indicative of the time period and the fact he is 100% undiagnosed. NOT my own thoughts or feelings on them.

~

Eddie stared longingly at the TV remote just a foot out of his reach. He could probably touch it with his fingertips if he stretched himself far enough. But doing so would risk ripping open his healing wounds. So instead he made do with staring at the blank screen above his bed and thinking back on the previous few days.

It had been nearly a week since he’d woken up in the hospital and was coherent enough to remember it. About ten days all up since he had been brought in half dead by his ‘friends’. 

He hadn’t heard from any of them since, besides Dustin of course. According to Wayne, two girls had come around and asked about him in the first few days while he was out of it, before Karmen had arrived. One of them was Nancy, Wayne had remembered her from the trailer park. Eddie assumed the other was Robin but it could have been anyone really.

They had made sure he was alive and gone on their way. Eddie wasn’t sure exactly why it hurt so much. He barely knew them after all. 

Dustin had visited a couple of times since Eddie had been awake. Apparently Steve was just down the hall and Dustin’s Mom would drop him off at the hospital for an hour so he could split it between the both of them.

Eddie wasn’t sure if Dustin’s Mom knew exactly who he was visiting or if he’d just said that he was seeing Steve. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. He’d only met Claudia once and she seemed really nice but he knew from Dustin’s stories that she was a worrier. He didn’t like to think of the things she must have assumed about him when she saw his name on the news.

Eddie had been concerned to see Dustin standing in the doorway of his room. The kid looked worried. Nervous. His expression somehow made him seem even younger than he already was.

Eddie knowing he couldn’t speak to reassure him or even explain what was happening to him and why he wasn’t responding was gut-wrenching. Luckily at that point in time, Wayne had barely left his side and he had been present to explain the situation to the kid.

Mortified was an understatement. Eddie had known his ‘crazy’ was showing during his time on the run. He could hardly keep it concealed when he wasn’t sleeping, eating properly, taking his anxiety medication and had just witnessed the most traumatic thing he’d ever experienced in his young life. But at least he had been able to talk. To bluster and lie and pretend like he was fine.

But now in this setting, he felt so small. Stuck in the hospital bed and not really even able to move, let alone speak. Dustin and the Gang had been through so much more than him over the years and yet here Eddie was, unable to talk because he was so fucking traumatized.

It was humiliating.

Eddie found himself preparing for a quick visit with the kid which ended with him never coming back.

But, to the kid’s credit, he had rolled with it just fine and made Eddie feel… normal. He had sat down by his bedside and chatted away about mundane things that didn’t really need responding to. That was, until Wayne had left to get lunch and he had immediately taken advantage of their alone time and begun to talk about all the things he knew Eddie was dying to know.

From what Dustin had told him, Max had been hurt pretty bad on the other end of the mission. Dustin said she had died at one point. But then… Came back to life? No. Maybe he had the story wrong. He had still been pretty out of it while the kid was explaining. He would need to clarify.

Max was recovering well though. Just a few broken bones to deal with. It was a lot but she would heal mostly the same physically and stupidly, Eddie couldn’t help but be jealous of that. His own body was ravaged with wounds that would scar. Leaving him covered in horrible marks.

Constant reminders of the secrets he was being forced to keep. Symbols of what he had been through just blatantly on display. Scars that would cause people to ask him hard questions for the rest of his life.

He remembered everything now. At least he thought he did. He knew what had happened to him because Dustin had regaled the story in a dramatic manner that Eddie would have been proud of in any other circumstance. 

Eddie the Banished and the Demobats that (Almost) Ate Him Alive.

He had a memory of it through Dustin’s eyes. The same way he felt he experienced what had happened with Max and the others despite neither of them witnessing it. Dustin hadn’t really even seen anything bad when it came to Eddie’s downfall. By the time the kid got to him, the bats were all dead and Eddie’s munched on body laid in the middle of the frey. 

It was all speculation really. But that made it easier to digest. The disconnect between what had actually happened and what Dustin thought had happened, helping him process it.

After that talk, Eddie understood a little better why his brain was so insistent that he was mentally scarred beyond even his own realization. He pushed away the knowledge that somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he remembered and hoped it never rose back to the surface.

Dustin had teared up when he told the part of the story where Eddie had told him that he loved him. When Dustin had said it back knowing full well it might be the very last thing Eddie ever heard. 

Eddie had pushed through his pain to force himself to sit as best he could. Pulling the kid in for a hug and trying his hardest to convey the reminder that it wasn’t the last thing he ever heard, without actually speaking. That he was safe. That Dustin had done so well for him.

Dustin had pulled away, wiping at his eyes as he reiterated that it was almost the last thing anyone ever said to him. Because everyone thought he was dead. They’d left him there despite Dustin’s protests and it was only when the kid had threatened to risk his own life going back, that they had relented.

Eddie nodded along softly, picking at his fingernails as he so often did when he wasn’t feeling right. An ache in his chest at the prospect of being left behind. Discarded, because he wasn’t one of them.

After hearing Dustin’s version of events he was solid in his decision to be glad he didn’t remember. Except maybe the part about his sick guitar solo. That would have been nice. But overall it sounded like more trauma than it was worth to have it in the forefront of his mind right now. He didn’t mind knowing what had happened without the added emotional damage of being forced to relive it while he was awake. He had enough traumatizing memories from the first few days of the ordeal. He didn’t need any extras. Especially not ones that were tied to being eaten alive.

He had been grateful for Dustin’s visits. Knowing that at least one friend was still interested in him after he’d been delivered to safety and was cleared of his charges. 

It was nice. 

The only thing that would have made it nicer was if Dustin happened to run into Karmen while he was present so he could finally rub it in the little twerps faces that she was in fact real and still stood by him after everything. 

But it was yet to happen. Coincidence leading Karmen and Wayne to swap shifts or Karmen to leave early for the afternoon right as the kid appeared again. Eddie swore they must be crossing paths just outside his room. Outside the hospital at the least. But neither of them had mentioned it yet.

Dustin wasn’t Eddie’s only unexpected visitor in the time between when he’d first woken up and the present day where he continued to stare at the blank TV screen and think.

The day after Karmen had brought him the library books on ASL, he had been visited by two big, burly men in suits and a friendly looking doctor that he’d never met before and seemed a little too enthusiastic to meet him. The man had introduced himself as Dr Sam Owens and when Wayne asked the question they were both thinking on; where was Eddie’s regular doctor? Owens had been quick with his rehearsed reply.

He’d explained that he was a doctor of the mind and it was his job to assess Eddie privately and figure out if there was a need for him to file a case against the Hawkins PD for defamation due to the Witch Hunt they had incited by releasing Eddie’s name without any concrete evidence against him.

He had asked Wayne to leave the room and the older man was hesitant. Luckily for all of them Eddie was somehow coherent enough to remember the name from Dustin’s dramatic retelling of 1985, that night they’d found him in the boat house. He knew what this was about and he assured Wayne with a silent nod that he would be fine alone with the man.

Once Wayne had exited the room, Owens dropped the act. He introduced himself properly and went on a long spiel about how none of this was supposed to happen. Eddie was in the wrong place at the wrong time and they were going to make sure he was comfortable for a long while after thoroughly destroying any little comfort he had already had in his life before the ordeal.  

They had already seen to it that his charges were dropped but they needed some time alone with Eddie to give him his new version of what had happened to Chrissy. The same version that was going to be circulating on the news later that night.

Eddie had narrowed his eyes at the man. Frustration boiling inside him at the fact that his story had already been constructed for him. That his story would be on the news for the entire town to see before he could speak to tell his loved ones about it himself. That the people of Hawkins were allowed to hear his story in the first place after the way they had treated him.

They didn’t deserve to know shit. But, Eddie conceded that if he wanted to continue living in Hawkins after the incident, he needed to have a cover. He needed to be proven innocent in the eyes of the general public.

So he listened as Owens carefully explained the narrative as if he was recollecting it from fact. Eddie wondered silently if that was a psychological tactic to help him believe it or if it was just the way the other man told his stories.

Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the trailer unaware that Victor Creel had broken in earlier and was lying in wait for them. What they had gone there together to do was no one’s business. 

Eddie wanted to object at that. Making it sound like he had taken her home to try and get laid. But he knew deep down that there was no way Chrissy’s parents would take the slander of it being drug related. They’d rather everyone assume that she was rebelling by fucking the town Freak than know she was suffering so badly living in her parents home that she was resorting to drugs.

But Eddie didn’t want Karmen to think that was the case for even a second. He would tell her the truth on that part of it whether the government liked it or not. Besides, they didn’t outright say that being intimate with Chrissy had to be a part of his story. That was just what seemed to be implied by commenting that it was ‘no one's business’. 

Anyway, apparently it was realistic to assume that Creel had waited around until he heard one of them go into the bathroom to take his opportunity to attack. Eddie had heard Chrissy’s screams from the bathroom, running out to find that she was already dead. There was nothing he could do to save her. Creel turned on him and he feld, getting away from the crazy old man and realizing that if he tried to turn himself in, it would probably pan out that no one would believe him. There was no guarantee that Creel would still be there by the time Eddie brought the police back to his trailer and if that was the case then it would be just him, the cops and the dead body of a girl that was too good for him. 

So he hid.

Makes sense, Eddie supposed. Mostly the truth too if he was honest. He knew no one would believe what he’d seen. He was always going to be suspect number one. That was why he ran. Why he hid like a coward. 

Patrick’s death was going to be reported as an inaccurate account of events. With Jason Carver being the only other witness besides Eddie, they could easily claim that Carver was having delusions due to his grief and therefore his depiction of events was considered null and void. With his witness statement retracted, it would be usual for Patrick’s body to be re-examined by the coroner. It would come out that he had simply drowned after following Jason into the lake to try and stop him from chasing after a fictional version of Eddie Munson that was never actually present at the scene of the crime.

Eddie was grateful for that one.

Owens had explained all of this to him as if he was simply chatting about his plans for his weekend away. This will happen, that has happened already and these events in the next few days will transpire as follows. It was incredibly surreal on Eddie’s end to catch a small glimpse into the workings of the government and how easily they could cover up such a monumental disaster with the ease of simply… lying. Fake witness statements and phony papers. It was a little scary. 

Had him wondering when he was alone next and unable to sleep what else the government was covering up with half-truths or outright deceit. 

Eddie was appreciative of the effort they put into clearing his name. But of course as all good things do, it came at a price. All of the things that Owens had just told him would happen, would only actually come to fruition if Eddie used his shaky hand to sign an NDA. Swearing upon punishment of the prison time he was escaping, that he would not tell another soul that wasn’t already involved, what had actually happened to him, Chrissy or anyone else entangled in the labyrinth. 

He wasn’t to tell anyone in his life what had really transpired in the trailer that night. What had really happened at Lover’s Lake. That monsters, other dimensions and superheroes existed. For that, he would have his freedom and as a gesture of good faith he would also receive the sum of $50000 dollars in his bank account by late next week.

Eddie had been startled by that. Not expecting financial compensation on top of everything else.

Owens explained that he understood money would be harder to hide. So if anyone asked where it had come from, he was to tell them that Hawkins PD had wanted to settle their defamation case out of court and he had taken them up on the offer to put the bad situation behind him.

Fuck… They really had a cover for everything.

Eddie had sat and thought about what Owens had said for a long time after the man stopped speaking. 

He didn’t want to go to prison for a crime he didn’t even commit. He knew deep down he didn’t truly have an option. But the thought of telling the government to shove it after all they’d put him through was very tempting. He didn’t want to lie to his loved ones and keep such terrible secrets all to himself. 

On top of that… He wasn’t sure he could do it. He never had been a good liar. 

Eddie had pointed to Wayne through the small window on the door to his room. The older man hadn’t gone far, standing guard in the hall outside in case his nephew needed him. He had given Owens his best inquisitive look, pointing to Wayne again insistently as the Doctor put the pieces together.

He hadn’t learnt enough ASL yet and even if he had, he doubted Owens would understand him.

The other man had seemed to grasp the question anyway, shaking his head solemnly in reply. 

“Not a soul.” He had reiterated, as Eddie dropped his arm back to his side and continued to think on such a heavy decision. He still wasn’t in his right mind. Was so doped up on painkillers that he could only stay awake for an hour or so before he was restlessly snoozing again. He shouldn’t be making this decision alone. Shouldn’t be forced to sign such important papers while under the influence of strong medicines. 

It was in that moment that he had realized how truly alone he was. How isolated he would probably feel for the rest of his life. It turned his stomach, but he didn’t have time to cry about it like he wanted to.

He needed someone to talk to about it all. Bounce the options off them and make sure he was doing the right thing. But he didn’t have that. Never would. Just about the only person he fully trusted to talk about it that already knew was Dustin and he was just a kid. Eddie would never want to put that on him. He’d been through so much more already that Eddie still could not fathom after his own adventure. He wouldn't burden the kid with his adult problems like that on top of everything else.

His heart had been heavy and his eyelids even heavier as he nodded in solemn understanding. Resigning himself to a life of silence. Lying and deceit that he wanted no part of. He never was good at telling lies no matter how much the people of Hawkins liked to spin it that he was some horrible, manipulative thug. That he used his silver tongue to coerce their children into joining his cult.

He had taken the pen that Owens offered and signed all the papers that were placed in front of him one by one without reading them though. His arm was giving out from the small exertion by the time he was finished. His wounds aching and his head lolling forwards every few seconds as he tried to stave off sleep until the impromptu meeting was over. 

It had taken such a long time that his tired body was giving up. Desperate for a nap.

The doctor had quickly reiterated Eddie’s story one more time before placing a card with a phone number on it down on the table in front of him. He had instructed Eddie to call the number when he was better to get a refresher on the narrative if he needed it. With that he was gone. Stopping outside briefly to explain to Wayne the fictionalized version of what had transpired. Informing him that Eddie was filing a defamation case against the Hawkins PD and foreshadowing their decision to settle.

Wayne hadn’t asked too many questions when he’d returned, not that Eddie could answer them anyway. But he had found himself once again incredibly grateful for his Uncle’s respect for him as an adult that was allowed to have his own secrets.

He knew the small amount of contentment wouldn’t last for long, although he had kind of hoped he would at least get a couple of hours out of it after he had woken from his nap.

But that wish was not to come true. When Karmen had arrived later in the afternoon and Wayne had explained the situation as he knew it, she had seemed annoyed. 

Frustrated? Bitter?

Eddie wasn’t sure. They were feelings and emotions that he hadn’t really seen too much of from her in the past. She didn’t actually say anything to him about it. But she had motioned for Wayne to speak with her outside the room and left Eddie there to wallow in his dread as he watched them interact through the glass.

He knew she had questions. Knew he would have them too if the situation was reversed. Hell, if he was honest, he wasn’t even sure he would have shown up in the first place if she was in his situation. A fact that he harbored so much guilt for deep inside every time she smiled kindly at him and he was so ridiculously grateful for her company. 

Would he have stayed if he did show up for her and then still had to get most of his information from the News at the same time as the rest of Hawkins and sometimes secondhand from her family? If the only thing he knew was that she was with another man and then that man died and she just… Disappeared for a week… 

He’d like to think he would because he loved her so deeply. But he could tell that his time away had accidentally hurt her in ways he could probably never make up for. 

Without being able to fully explain the truth of the situation, he didn’t know if she would be able to move on from it. These were the questions that he had for her. But a part of him was glad he couldn’t ask them. Asking difficult questions often led to difficult answers and being able to ask questions in general meant being able to answer them.

He had watched them talking dramatically. Flailing their arms around in an exasperated manner as they conversed with tight lips and shaking heads that he could tell were not directed at each other but the topic at hand. It had planted a heavy seed in Eddie’s gut that hadn’t dissipated when they reappeared, all smiles and it only continued to grow as the questions remained unasked.

Karmen didn’t treat him any differently after the talk with Wayne but he could feel the unease inside her within the way she moved. The expressions on her face that didn’t quite match the way he knew they should look.

She knew she was being lied to. They both did. He could tell.

As if on cue to quell his own unease, Karmen appeared in the doorway of his room in present time. His longing stare towards the TV remote was interrupted. His eyes dragging over her frame as she smiled tiredly in greeting. Letting herself in and relieving him of his unending boredom and relentless anxieties by picking up the remote and switching on the television.

She settled herself on the bed beside him without a word and he snuggled into her as best as his injuries would allow. Both of them turning their attention to the daytime TV talk show that had become somewhat of a ritual for them in the last few days. A distraction from the strange goings on of the world right now. 

Eddie watched for a few minutes before his eyes began to droop. Her company, the only way he was getting any proper rest. He slipped into an easy sleep while listening to the talk show host question their guest on trivial things. Grateful that at least in this moment in time, it wasn’t him in the hot seat.

Yet.

~

Totally forgot to mention the "car accident" cover. 😬 So will bring that up again and go into more depth next chapter.

Part 7!

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tag List: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons

[yukipri]

Finally got my copy of the latest Obi-Wan comic, #3!!

As you can see from the cover, it's got Cody + the 212th!

Spoilers beneath cut:

Ah...😭😭😭

"I still think of my Second-in-Command, CC-2224--whom I called "Commander Cody"--with great fondness. I miss him to this day. Even though he eventually tried to kill me. So it goes with my friends, it seems."

Comic is worth it for the above lines alone, in my humble opinion.

Also, new 212th boy just dropped!! He has a terrible haircut. I love him. Welcome, Airo!

("AR-" hmm, is he the first official 212th ARC? Though he lacks the fancy gear ^ ^;)

That's all the images I'll share, please buy the comic if you can to support it! I got mine at my not-so-local comic shop online.

Additional thoughts:

Overall I really enjoyed it! It was still obviously very Obi-Wan centric, I mean it's the Obi-Wan comic, but had armored!Obi-Wan and also a decent amount of the 212th + Cody. Less centered around the clones than I would have ideally wanted, but still more than expected! ^ ^;

Obi-Wan was drawn really beautifully! I could feel the love. I couldn't feel quite as much love for the clones alas ;_; (also, as much as I adore the cover, Cody my dude u do not look 20~22 max there buddy) Also Phase I helmets in comic but Phase II on cover, minor detail but hrng

One thing that makes me really sad is that the Obi-Wan narrator of this comic is ~20 years post ROTS, aka shortly before ANH. In this comic he isn't with Cody, and apparently still doesn't know about the chips/that the clones didn't want to betray him. Assuming this is canon, it effectively kills any chance of Cody showing up in Obi-Wan show S2.

Unless, of course, they decide to ignore this comic. I'm not sure how "canon" all the new comics/novels are, but I'm hoping that the stories within them won't completely dictate all future SW content, and that this story being Legends-ized is a possibility ;_;

I'm happy to see more Cody + 212th content, I don't want to seem grateful!! But, I still want to see at least part of the scrapped Obi-Wan script one day. It doesn't have to be that exact script! But a Cody + Obi-Wan reunion in some form, or at least closure for Obi-Wan in realizing the clones were victims not traitors.

#5 of this comic is apparently about Obi-Wan encountering a stormtrooper who reminds him of his clones. Maybe..?

(idk but this blurb reads like a Codywan fic summary doesn't it ahhaha)

But if Obi-Wan does find Cody again immediately before ANH...like again, closure is the most important part. But admittedly that's less time together than I would have ideally liked ;_; We'll have to see!

Either way, it's a lovely comic that has Obi-Wan + Cody + 212th. Please check it out if you can!

[gallavich-rules]

Shamelessly Ever After Update

Chapter 7: Hope Springs Eternal

[Chapter Link]   or   [Start from the Beginning]

Mickey POV

“Okay, we’re cool. Just…put the fucking gun down.”

“Back the fuck up!!!” The girl screams, now aiming the gun towards Ian.

Seeing her point the gun at Ian, Mickey’s heart jumps...

He springs forward, rushing over to Ian, putting himself in front of his husband, outstretching his arms as wide as they could go.

He won’t let her take him.

He won’t lose him.

Not again.

Summary:

Mickey reminisces all the good...and bad...memories he has of him and Ian while going through their wedding and anniversary pics. Meanwhile, the unconscious girl he and Ian rescued from the Alibi the other night wakes up. Mickey has to navigate through mixed emotions to protect Ian, himself, and even the girl.

Fandom: Shameless

Rating: Explicit, Adult Content

Content Warning: Guns, Canon Typical Language, Trauma, Panic, Anxiety

Characters: Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher, Unknown Character 

(SPOILER: character revealed under Read More of this post)

Author’s Note:

... She brings her head back up. Her eyes, surrounded by glitter, look straight at Mickey’s, delicate brown meeting raging ocean blue.

“Rue,” she answers. “It’s Rue.”

Yup, Rue Bennett from Euphoria has made it into my fic.

Honestly, seeing her character and the struggles she has to overcome reminded me a lot of the earlier seasons of Shameless. Also, her character in general and her relationship with another character on the show reminds me a lot of Ian and Mickey when they first started out. As such, I thought it'd be interesting to write a fic about her meeting them, though this isn't the only kind of storyline I'll be writing about. I intended this fic to be a one-shot of Mickey accidentally becoming an event planner--which is still the goal lmaoo--but yeah it slowly evolved into this.

Of course like all crossover characters, she will be rewritten as if she is in the Shameless universe; however, out of all the other characters, her story, personality, and struggles will be close to her canon counterpart. You don't need to necessarily be familiar with Euphoria to follow along with her story, the next chapters focused around her I will include little details and info that are relevant to the overall story (and of course to Ian and Mickey). If anything, most of her canon stuff will serve as memories or context, but I am changing some things around to fit this narrative I'm building in my fic.

Also, the gif used for Rue in this chapter will not be used for her chapter POV's. I just used this gif cause I was picturing this scene of her while writing the last bits of this chapter, when she slowly raises her head to look at Mickey.

Anyways, if you're still reading this fic, thanks so much for your continued support as a reader. It means a lot to me and I hope you guys are liking the story so far. There's still a lot to come so uhhh be prepared lool.

[raspberryfanfics]

nejiten fanfic binging guide

My recommended Nejiten fics. All stories are complete and are good enough to be reread again and again:)

Narutoverse

Exceptions by IncessantOblivion — The first Nejiten fic I have ever read, also one of the closest to my hearts. Though the author admits it, it does have themes of sexism and homophobia, but not strong. It portrays Tenten as extremely inexperienced and though I’m not a fan of authors who write her that way, I’m glad she is shown as independent otherwise. Despite the criticism and obvious flaws, the romantic scenes are written perfectly and I get a huge wave of feels every time I reread it. Besides the slight hints of sexism, this story is the most favourited Nejiten story on FFn for a reason: you’re so emotionally connected to it. My chest literally constricts every time I read it, it’s so good. 

Land of Pretend + Reality by trilliumgt — The first story, (Land of Pretend), despite being without a super solid storyline, is just so heart-wrenching. I’m pretty sure I cried the first time I read this and the sequel but even if it didn’t trigger as much as an emotional reaction, it was surprisingly not boring. Though “Reality” wasn’t as “feel-triggering”, it was very well thought out. 

About a Daddy and a Nanny by syaoran no hime — Perhaps one of my favourite Nejiten fics of all time. I was originally skeptical of this fic because of the title since Daddy and Nanny fics can be ridiculously degrading. They tend to be overly cliche where the female character is a useless Mary Sue. Yet when I gave it a shot, I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was most definitely not cliche in the slightest. It may not be the best fic I’ve read in terms of romanticness, however, the humour is unbeatable. Before class, I had read this on my phone and couldn’t stop laughing because the author writes Tenten to have an alter-ego nanny, (very minor spoiler), and she is absolutely hilarious. The romance lies in the unspoken words and the reminiscence, not in the make-outs, but in a way, that just makes it what it is. It’s the type of fic that makes you wanna laugh and cry and smash your screen at the same time. The story is so so sooo good.

SharpBladed Spirit by FenixPhoenix — Dark and a little gruesome, therefore rated M. It isn’t so much a romance, rather an adventure story with a side serving of the two love interests. Nonetheless, it’s captivating, character development is phenomenal, and every character is strong and moves on the plot.

On Qipao Flirting and Buying Drinks by needdl — While this is only a two-shot, it is such a beautifully written story. The best part of it isn’t the romance, but the reactions to change and change itself. Characters change in subtle ways and the creative ways of expressing Neji’s reactions to Tenten becoming more and more feminine make me smile constantly. What I also love is that it has a slight feminist viewpoint to it in the fact that she embraces her femininity, which is the whole point of feminism (in which femininity is embraced just as much as masculinity and the belief that all are equal, which hopefully you are up to date to because it’s 2020 for kami’s sake). Anyways, the first part of the story is absolute pure fluff but if you read the second part, (especially on Ao3)...well that is some hot stuff let me tell ya.

In Front of Every Star by NessieGG — A short story with lots of fluff, angst, and feminism. (YAY!) It loaded with small snippets of moments, sadness, and really makes you think about your own values. Would you leave the love of your life to save your home country? What I love about this story is that the pain the characters feel may be selfish but they are completely realistic. It reflects off of our own lives, trying to let go of our feelings after letting go of the person. Every piece of it is flawless.

Ms X by Blade Rewind — This was the second-ever Nejiten fic I’ve read, and though short in the chapters, it certainly gives a lot of content. It’s light, airy, fun, and a little bit cliche, but in a strangely good way. The writer executes a classic plot with grace and humour and there isn't’ a point where you wanna die because of the unoriginality. 

On Sex by Lotos-eater — I was skeptical about this at first because sometimes titles like these indicate really bad smut, which is almost as bad as an overused cliche. However, this was exactly the opposite. While there is certainly mature content, it isn’t in the way you’d think. Sex is portrayed as an obstacle in this story and approaching it is awkward in every way. Kissing is awkward, touching is awkward, in fact, this is a romantic story with no romance whatsoever. I don’t know how the author pulled it off, but it was simply amazing. It is hard to read not because it is bad, but because you can really empathize with the Neji and Tenten as they try to have sex with non-existent chemistry. Yet my favourite part of this story is the amount of complexity within each character and the way Gai is written in a much more different light. I never imagined Gai to have a dark side and this story executes it perfectly.

Alternate Universes

Complexities of Blackmail by Aquarius Galuxy — I read the summary for this one and was impressed at the word count so I quickly jumped aboard my first AG Nejiten fic train and just...wow. So like, I don’t know where to start. It’s a military space AU and what I love is that up to a certain point, everyone’s backstory until Naruto Shippuden era is almost exactly the same as the Narutoverse. Team Gai is a predeveloped relationship but had deteriorated. Blackmail is very explicit, lots of smut, but damn is it quality smut. It might not be your cup of tea, but if you don’t mind it, this story is amazing. Neji is slightly out of character, but you can understand why with his motivations, even though I personally wouldn’t write a story with the situation. Development is great, chemistry is over the top fantastic, and there’s a perfect amount of angst. It is a bit lengthy but so worth it. Every other character involved is so unique, I loved seeing Izumo and Kotetsu getting a bigger role, Ino was so in character; highly, highly recommend.

f 2-8, ISO 100 by Aquarius Galuxy — Of course, we have another AG fic and this one has sex scenes, but not as *cough* rough *cough* as Blackmail. The maturity mostly comes from the fact that Tenten is a photographer and art can sometimes be...graphic. Yet I have an appreciation for this fic since it states that art is art and the fact that AG came up with the photography is like aiming a shot, (since Tenten never misses). Neji is a politician and pianist, which is a suitable career that both covers his genius and soft side. Once again, great chemistry. This fic flows like a river, it’s so beautiful.

Cutting Water by Nessie GG — A historic AU in which Tenten the leader of a prestigious clan in China and Neji is an ambassador from Japan. Reads more as an adventure and friendship story resulting in romance in the last few chapters rather than just romance. The details are amazing and the style of the writing makes it so elegant, perfect for the time period. It’s the type of story that mysterious and sophisticated at the same time.

Perfidy by KNO — Similar to Cutting Water as it is a historical AU. Its backstory is vaguely similar to Mulan, however, in this case, the hot general doesn’t forgive her immediately. Tenten, who was saved from dressing as a guy to serve in the army, is sent to train another generation of female soldiers. It’s a great story, a great plot, though it does tend to run on uselessly at times. However, it is solid otherwise. 

Breathe Again by Kicho-Keynote — A modern AU in which Neji is an army veteran. The story is slightly dark, as it deals with PTSD and triggering situations. Each character is complex and the development is simply amazing. Everyone has visible flaws, relationships are so well-developed, and it has brought me to tears several times. There are several mentions of ShinoTen, and even though it’s not my favourite couple, it plays a huge role in the story so just a warning. Thankfully, it doesn’t go into detail about their personal lives and it still is a Nejiten story, despite other love interests. It also runs on at parts but overall, it’s extremely well developed.

Authors

Aquarius Galuxy @aquariusgaluxy — The “Papabay” of Nejiten fics. Every story is beautiful, perfect, and intimate. Chemistry is always there. Everything is so beautiful and each has a different mood. Nothing is half-assed and it is just...I wish AG was still active I love those works so much.

KNO @zealousheart — If Aquarius Galuxy is the “Papabay” of Nejiten fics, then KNO is the “Ghost Bananas”. KNO’s work is creative, light, complex, and meaningful. The best part is, if you compare the earlier works to the more recent ones, you can really see the difference in skill level and how much KNO has improved.

Goldberry — Do you need one-shots? Goldberry has plenty. Though there are only a couple stories, there are one-shot collections, drabbles, and a whole bucketload of one-shots I haven’t even got to. It’s pure Nejiten Heaven

NessieGG — More one-shots but guess what? They’re all AU one-shots! Now, this is Nejiten AU heaven!

needdl — All of needdl’s works are filled with fluff. They are adorable, sweet, yet some of them are sincere and romantic. 

Cyberwolf — There are so many short light drabbles from Cyberwolf, each an idea that seemingly came from random thoughts but ended up on FFN for all of us to read.

MOST OTHER AUTHORS MENTIONED IN THE SUGGESTED STORIES ALSO HAVE OTHER NEJITEN WORKS, JUST NOT AS PLENTIFUL OR MOSTLY NEJITEN AS THE ONES LISTED ABOVE. I SUGGEST YOU CHECK OUT THEIR PROFILES AS WELL!

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Hi there! I have a writing question for you. I just posted my first fic to AO3 and I'm super proud of it. But only a few people have seen it/liked it and I'm disappointed because I honestly think what I wrote is pretty good. Do you have any tips for attracting readers/remaining encouraged when your work isn't well-received? Thank you! Also I love your blog.

First off, congratulations on posting your first fic!! That is a step lots of people never take! It is an act of bravery. When I posted my first fic, very few people read it or noticed it too. It’s taken me almost two years to get to this point. And I still stare longingly at other fics or blogs and I wish I had their numbers. 

Tips for attracting readers

Tag appropriately - On AO3, I would recommend picking 4-8 of the most relevant tags and sticking to those. You don’t have to tag every sexual position or things like kissing. Readers look at the tags for warnings and a general sense of the fic. No one wants to scroll past a whole paragraph of tags. The brain tunes out. On Tumblr, keep in mind that only the first five tags show up in searches so put the most important tags first. The member smut, fluff and angst tags seem to draw the most traffic, eg. “jungkook smut” or “yoongi angst”.

Keep your summaries short and to the point - If you can’t tell us in two sentences or less what your fic is about, your story is too complicated or you don’t have a good enough sense of it for yourself. Don’t worry too much about spoilers, readers need a sense of what to expect and if you are too cryptic, they just won’t click on it and then spoilers don’t matter anyways. Short summaries prompt readers to click through. Long paragraphs are exhausting before you’ve even clicked on them.

Post in multiple places - I post on both Tumblr and AO3. Posting in multiple places gets more eyeballs onto your work. I have people follow me between platforms. Some stories will do better in different places too.  Reader-inserts and one-shots tend to do better on Tumblr. Member ships and long series tend to do better on AO3. I experimented with posting on Wattpad too but didn’t like it. Their algorithm is based on views only which leads to this weird feedback loop where only the most viewed fics get brought to the top, even if no one actually likes them.

On Tumblr, make a masterlist - Too often I see authors complaining about no one reading their fics and I go to their blog and can’t find any of their work! You need a masterlist and it needs to be mobile friendly and in your description. Here’s an easy explanation of how to do make a masterlist and hyperlink it.

Interact with other writers - Send messages! Send asks! Leave comments! Reblog! Recommend! Share! Every single fanfiction writer started in the same place as you. We are all still hoes for feedback even if we have thousands of followers. It makes other people more likely to check out your blog and if people like the stories you recommend, they may be more likely to read your stuff. 

Tips for remaining encouraged

Look at ratios instead of overall numbers - The most popular fics on AO3 have a less than 5% hits to kudos ratio. If you have a story that got 100 hits, and 10 kudos, that’s a kick ass story! The people who read it are really liking it. It just takes time to get more eyeballs on your work, but the eyeballs that are seeing it are liking it. 

Get a beta reader - Having one person tell you in detail what they like about your story is thousand times more motivating than 100 kudos. Here’s my advice for finding a beta reader.

Get some tracking software - I track my blog with both Google Analytics and StatCounter. I can see where people are coming from and which fics are drawing them in. Most readers never give any feedback at all, but they are there and they may be quite enjoying themselves, but you won’t know without a tracker. 

Set goals for yourself that aren’t related to feedback. - You can’t control feedback and it’s demotivating to set goals around something you can’t control. Instead, try things like “I’m going to write a one-shot.” or “I’m going to try writing in first person” or “I’m going to write angst because I’ve never written angst before.” 

Go read some really terrible stories - So here’s where my inner competitive bitch comes out, but SO MUCH FANFICTION IS TERRIBLE! Many very very popular stories are atrocious! I am motivated by the thought of “if that can get 1000 hits, so can I” and I find the challenge of “I can write a better version of this trope/au” enjoyable.

Don’t give up! It takes time! But you will improve and you will get more readers and more feedback if you keep at it. Wishing you lots of love and luck!