#and then the divine muse punches you in the face so you let her call the shots

[onelungmcclung]

Ahh! 5 Sentence Drabbles!! So exciting. I would love a #5 (Seeking Solace?) for McClung and Toye 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️

thank youuuu 💜 summary: postwar, lowkey h/c, g rating (later I’ll decide whether to post it to ao3 as part of ask him to dance or as a standalone; probably the former)

It doesn’t happen often but it happens: the worst things he’s seen, felt, coming back to him at night, in too much detail for something almost a year gone. Sometimes, like tonight, it seems he can’t move or defend himself, trapped or too badly wounded, and he wakes, trying to talk himself down from a fear worse than he remembers, trying to let his muscles ease again, and wondering if what he dreamt is what Joe felt, that day they rarely speak of.

Minutes pass – or so it feels – until he can make himself sit up. What is the use, he thinks, the tiredness turning almost to anger, what is the point of reliving it. He’s torn between getting some air and staying beside Joe, because Joe is always the quiet place for his mind to go, during day or night. But the room seems smaller, closer, than other nights, and so at last he rises, dresses, all in long practised silence, and slips out of the room.

***

Joe wakes alone, a little later that night. He almost thinks nothing of it, until he notices Earl’s clothes are gone. That worries him, not because he thinks Earl will be hard to find but because he knows what it means when Earl goes out alone at night.

He pulls on his clothes, and doesn’t bother with his prosthesis or a crutch until he’s downstairs, where one of his crutches stands in the stairwell. The quiet sound of the wood on the floorboards irritates him a little, but it’s probably better he can’t startle Earl just now.

He finds Earl in the narrow alley at the back of the row of houses, sitting on their step and smoking. He doesn’t look around or get up, just shifts aside to let Joe by. Joe stays in the open doorway, leaning against the doorpost behind him.

“That kind of night?”

Earl nods. He passes Joe the cigarette. Joe reaches down with his free hand to slide his fingers into Earl’s hair. He can feel the lingering tension ebb out of Earl, slowly.

He knows they can’t be seen from here. He keeps his fingers in Earl’s hair as he returns the cigarette to him.

Earl’s always been there for him on bad nights. Sits with him downstairs or drives him somewhere quiet they can be alone, all without asking or being asked. This has happened before, too, but a little less often; he knows the things that bring Earl out here at two in the morning, and wishes he could protect Earl from them. There’s nothing either of them can do, but he’s not going anywhere.

“You need anything?” he says, quietly.

Earl shakes his head. He leans his head against Joe’s thigh, gently. His eyes close.

Joe’ll stand here all night if it helps any. Maybe talk Earl into taking the day off work, if this is all the sleep they get. Earl doesn’t move, still leaning into him, and neither does Joe. He’ll just do whatever Earl needs, he thinks. For as long as he needs it.

#replies #my fic #band of brothers #toye x mcclung #mctoye #joe toye #earl mcclung #I have absolutely no intuitive idea of what five sentences look like #it's basically the same as five paragraphs right #and then you have a little flexibility on that #and then the divine muse punches you in the face so you let her call the shots #I have a hilariously awful commute to work (just while training) but today I put it to better use #I promise I have not forgotten the other prompts in my inbox #alternate summary: h/c feat. two people who have never once knowingly sought solace in their entire stoical lives #**

[nishiannoya]

kiki i went to denny’s yesterday and i thought of us and our 2D boyfriends as i drank my shitty coffee <3

ᴏɴ ʙᴏɴᴅ

Jess, I started writing this after you wrote Bail Out and then got stuck and then accidentally published it unfinished and then quickly set it as private so I wouldn't lose it. I had to go digging, but I have finished it in lieu of this ask 🤍

You and Reigen get arrested for fighting in a Denny's parking lot at 4 AM. After your friends graciously bail you both out, you somehow wind up back at fucking Denny's.

Implied f!reader but no pronouns mentioned. I headcanon this gag trope that Reigen talks about his job and Mob and Dimple and such, but every time his s/o comes around, they just so happen to leave or get drawn into some other ordeal. Takes place before the divine tree arc. I guess in some kind of way this could be considered a fluff piece.

"I can't believe they let us back in here," you grumble as you huddle yourself in the corner on the booth, trying to keep as far away from the intolerable blonde man sitting on the same side as you. Your friend/saving grace/one true shining beacon of hope that the world is a good place sits across from you next to her boyfriend, who is barely more tolerable than your own, but at least he hasn't gotten you arrested.

"Honey, we see someone pull a gun out in here at least once a week. Your little lovers quarrel in the parking lot ain't nothin'," the waitress says as she fills the coffee cups around the table, completely numb to the fuckery of overnight diner shifts.

"Did you happen to get this one punching him in the face on camera?" Your friend's boyfriend asks as he gestures towards you, earning him a jab to the ribs.

"Oh please, they're old news on Tokkipon," the waitress says before leaving the table. You cringe at the mention of the infamous account that posts submitted photo and video highlights of your prefecture's notorious trashy behavior. You hope she's right. It was less than 5 hours ago when you were hauled away in the back of a cop car, throwing over-exaggerated looks of disgust at Reigen who was making stupid taunting faces at you through the window of the separate patrol car he was in.

"Already at 300-thousand views!" The tall guy across from you exclaims with his phone in hand. Your friend sheepishly peeks the screen, though she at least tries to act disinterested for your sake.

"Hmmm," Reigen muses and you roll your eyes, knowing exactly how the gears of his mind work. "I could use this exposure to boost my brand."

You slap your hands on the table and groan.

"I have to pee. Move."

Though you don't give him the chance, climbing over him and purposely stomping on his leg as you exit the booth. You don't actually need the bathroom, just need to get away from him. Your friend quickly excuses herself to follow you - the law of women forbidding her from allowing you to travel to the bathroom alone. That, and she's eager to hear what went down. The only thing you had said when you called was, "I'm in jail. There's several wads of cash in my underwear drawer at home if you need it. Plan to bail for two."

"Are you okay?" She asks as soon as the swinging door closes behind you. You do a quick scan to make sure no one else is in the stalls before you rant.

"Well, I have assault and battery on my record now. I'm dogshit tired. I met some of the saddest, roughest women I've ever encountered in my life in the holding cell. And I don't think Reigen and I can recover from this. But, yeah. I think I'm more okay than most people would be," you say, honestly too exhausted to really feel much of anything except acceptance.

"He didn't fight you back? Did he?"

"Nah, there was a cop in the parking lot who saw the whole thing and came running over."

"Then why did Reigen get arrested too?"

"Well the cops were just gonna take me, but he kept saying things to piss me off. He was so irritating and persistent that they decided to take him in as well for interfering with their duties because he kept interrupting," you explain as you make your way over to one of the sinks. You catch your reflection, looking quite disheveled and you make your best attempt to smooth down your hair.

"What even got you two in it in the first place?"

You stay silent with your lips pressed into a tight line.

"Don't tell me-"

"It's the fucking broccoli!" You lament, voice bouncing off the tiled bathroom. At first you thought it was funny, like an inside joke between you and Reigen that he had anything to do with skyscraper vegetable incident. But between that, and the mysterious Mob that always seems to leave right before you come around, as well as some other fishy circumstances that he blames on spirits, you wonder if the jokes are just him playing you for a fool.

"How dumb does he think I am? I get that his job is all about bullshitting, but to think he can try and bullshit me too? Fuck him and all his stupid psychic bullshit and his stupid little imaginary friends. It's all made up! Everything! It just makes me think, what else could he be making up as well? Is he insane, or just an asshole? Or both? And yet he makes me feel like I'm insane and an asshole! Why do I even like him?"

"I mean, do you have any other explanation for the giant broccoli other than a psychic phenomenon?" Your friend tries to reason. Bless her heart.

"It's obviously a government experiment in trying to solve world hunger," you huff, feeling quite confident in your conclusion. You had scoured enough tinfoil forums to be convinced of the theory.

"It's a giant broccoli in the middle of our city! You can't come at it with logic like that! Just like you can't logic your way around being in love with him."

"You take that back!" You gasp, horrified despite the truth to all her points. "I only love you, not that weasel out there."

"Who? My weasel or yours?" She jokes, and you manage a chuckle at the burn to her own lover.

"You two are cute. Wish Reigen and I could be- could've been more like that," you sigh. In another life where you had a better temper and he knew how to be serious for one second, then maybe.

"Aw, don't talk like that! I'm sure you'll be okay after some mediocre pancakes and bacon," she assures you.

"Nothing like a Grand Slam to cover up my abuser status." It's only a half-joke that does little ease the weighty feeling in your chest. If Reigen had been the one who punched you, you certainly would not be sharing coffee and breakfast with him.

"Quit it! You're not a monster! His teeth aren't even loose!"

You accept it for now, too tired to make any argument against her. Your rough reflection seems to stare back at you with condescending pity, and you accept that too with another sigh. You exit the bathroom with your friend in tow, feeling a little weird and anxious about going back to the table and having to sit next to the man who you'll probably be seeing for the last time. However, something else makes you stop in your tracks when you catch sight of your table.

"What's wrong?" You friend asks as she peeks around your shoulder.

"They're," you feel your skin go cold, "getting along."

Your friend laughs and keeps walking, seemingly delighted at the sight of the two men excitedly showing each other their phone screens. You, on the other hand, can't find the joy in the budding friendship between her boyfriend and your....boyfriend, for now. Despite the headache forming behind your eyeballs, you make your way over. Reigen gets up to let you back in to your side of the booth. You can feel his eyes on you as you cast your sight down and to the side, ignoring the tightness in your chest at knowing his stare doesn't hold the harshness you deserve.

Thankfully, the food arrives as soon as you settle back in, distracting you and everyone else with it's bare minimum quality. You imagine it beats whatever they're serving in jail though, and you graciously eat up the overcooked eggs paired with undercooked hash browns. Though mid-chew, you see Reigen's hand come creeping over from the side and onto your plate to pilfer a piece of your bacon. Quickly, you snatch his wrist in your hand and whip your neck to glare at him.

"I swear, if you know what's good for-" You cut yourself off, finding yourself nearly snarling at him and everyone at the table staring at you in anticipation. It's the first time you're able to look him in the eye since you got out. He's looking at you with the same old beady black eyes, amused at your reaction. Something about it makes your face go hot and your heart feel like it's going to tear in two. Not wanting to cause another scene, you huff out your nose in defeat.

"Whatever, take it. They slice it too thin anyway," you grumble and let him go. This is probably the last time you'll be sitting with him like this, the least you can do is let him have some shitty break-up bacon. You can sense his eyes still on you when you go back to your eggs that had gone cold all too quick. He grunts and eats the bacon, though with less enthusiasm than he usually has for food.

The rest of the meal is fairly quiet save for your friend's boyfriend trying to break the mood by messing with her food and making awful puns. They really are cute, you think. As much as you try to suppress it, it makes you envious. You wonder if there was ever a time when you so carefree and relaxed in your feelings for Reigen. It hurts your head too much to think about.

You pay the bill as a small gesture of thanks to the other couple, though you insist you owe them quite a few more treats to some place a little more upscale. Perhaps a giftcard to a steakhouse since this is the first and last double date you'll be on for a while.

The back middle seat keeps you separated from Reigen during the ride to drop you off. You thought he'd feel meters and meters away, but he feels exactly 18 inches from your side, awkwardly distanced yet not far enough. The drive is mostly wordless, everyone in the vehicle quite tired from the wedge in their regular schedules, though Reigen gives directions to drop him off at his office. It's mere minutes away, just a few turns and one red light, and all too soon the car is stopped outside the familiar building.

He gets out, and you hesitate, unsure if you should get out too.

"What are you doing? Go!" The two in the front both encourage you as they squish together to look at you through the rearview mirror.

"I-" You stop whatever excuse you had and sigh as you unbuckle. "Fine. Going."

Before you close car door behind you, you poke your head back in and look at your friend. "If you ever get arrested for punching him," you gesture at the man in the passenger seat, "I won't bail you out because I'll also be in jail for punching him."

"Love you too," she says as her boyfriend gives you a wary smile. "Now go! I want to go back to sleep!"

Your heart thumps when you close the door for good and watch as they drive off. Reigen waits for you at the door to his office, leaning against the wall and lighting up a cigarette between his lips.

"I thought you were quitting," you say, finding the words easier than you thought you would.

"I think I deserve one," he retorts after exhaling the first drag. You hate it, mostly because you hate how good he looks doing it.

You sigh for the hundredth time this morning, closing your eyes and wringing your hands a bit as you prepare to say what you need to.

"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

His response is so fast that it feels anticlimactic. You had been dreading a painful, drawn out silence, but instead he just gives his forgiveness like it's nothing. But it's not nothing. Your heart squeezes, and finally the wear and exhaustion of this whole fiasco comes crashing down on you.

"I- I don't want to break up," you choke out in a wobbly voice, with big fat stinging tears welling up in your eyes that don't even need you to blink to spill over.

He drops the cigarette and pushes himself off the wall, rushing to grab you by the shoulders.

"Who said anything about breaking up?!" He asks, sounding a little frantic.

Your shoulders shake as you fight to hold back the sobs, eyes and teeth clenched in a futile attempt to keep you from completely coming apart.

"I hurt you! I-It's not right. I don't- I don't deserve you. You don't d-deserve that," you snivel, barely registering his hands on you. You can't bear to look at him, and hang your head low so the tears can hopefully fall on the ground instead of down your cheeks.

"We can talk about it at least. Besides, you have a ways to go before you can throw an effective Anti-Esper Punch™," he says, and you can't tell if he's teasing or being serious.

"Did you just say the tradem- Nevermind. This doesn't make sense. Nothing is making sense," you lament, taking a step forward and knocking your forehead on his shoulder. "I just wanna go to sleep and pretend nothing happened. But we can't do that. And I don't think I can trust you to be serious with me, and I can't trust myself not to be frustrated with you."

You don't expect him to move his arms around you and pull you into him. You're not the type of couple for such affection, especially here on the open sidewalk where people can see that there's obviously some kind of scene going on. But you're exhausted and you slump against him, squeezing your arms around his middle right back and let your tears soak his white button down that's far more wrinkly than usual. Part of you fears that this will be your last time holding him so close.

However, he speaks and brings you to a place that feels like home.

"I am serious with you. Why else would I get myself arrested?"

You finally look up at him, whipping your chin upwards so you can get a good scan of his face. Despite your eyes swelling, they open wide when you see nothing but earnest in his expression.

"Y-You mean-? On purpose?!" You stutter.

"Well, yeah. Getting arrested sucks. I wasn't gonna make you go through that by yourself," he says simply.

Your heart squeezes. More tears fall from your eyes as you wrap yourself all too tightly around him, crying into his neck, "Stupid! Idiot! I- I can't stand you! Absolute scum of the earth! Why would you- For stupid dumbass me!? You're so-!"

"You're welcome." You feel him laugh at you, one hand brushing at your back affectionately.

At this point, you don't even know if you can say what you really mean without drawing concern. Your throat constricts, but you still manage to croak out a strained, "Thank you."

His other hand comes to rest atop your head, smoothing over your hair. Maybe one day you'll be able to be more open with your feelings, but for now, you say what you can by refusing to let go of him.

"Let's go inside. I'll keep business closed today. Though, if there is a spiritual emergency, I might have to address it," he tells you and pats you on the head.

Slowly, you loosen your hold on him and sigh through your stuffy nose the best you can.

"Still on about spirits even after-?"

You shift your head from his neck, pulling back and opening your eyes. You're so worn that you must be half asleep already. Or maybe you're starting to hallucinate from the lack of sleep. You give your eyes a testing squeeze before popping them back open and blinking a few times to clarify your visions, but-

"Reigen," you say slowly, "there's some ugly green thing hanging around by your head."

"Oh, so now you can actually see me and you call me ugly?!"

Yeah, you're definitely losing it. Or you owe Reigen another apology.

#this was supposed to be short #<<< the biggest lie i tell myself #for anyone who doesnt know the friends bf is kuroo

[sope-and-shine]

When World’s Collide: Pt. 1

-> Pairing: Moon God!Taehyung x Fate!Reader ->  SFW // fluff, angst, humor // enemies to lovers!au, soulmate!au  -> Word Count: 17.7k -> Summary: Taehyung has spent most of his life ignored by his peers and alone on his barren planet. So when a lonely King reaches out to him in hopes to bring his love to him, how could he ignore his plea? However, it’s not good to mess with fate, and it’s even worse to make the same mistake twice. -> Warnings: mild language, the reader is a bad bitch, minor character death, minor innuendos, Jimin is a hoe

a/n: THIS STORY IS DIRECTLY CONNECTED TO THE RIGHT OF A KING! YOU DON'T HAVE  TO READ IT FIRST, BUT IT WOULD MAKE A LOT MORE SENSE IF YOU DO

Part 1 // Part 2 // Masterlist

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At the beginning of the universe there was a big bang that created the planets and stars as we know it, and with the spread of these divine creations came the deities that would oversee them. Each being crafted from the magic that created the rest of their home in the cosmos, they take care of their planets and the other magical wonders that make up their home.

Taeyang - the Sun God - a jovial and bright spirit. He keeps the planets aligned and in motion when the Universe tips off balance. He holds each of the 9 planets accountable and they trust him to lead the way, as do the higher deities. Universe, Cosmos, Galaxy, Life, Death, and Fate - the 6 high deities that make up the universe. Without one, then the home that they share would not function as easily as it does. They trust the other deities to do their jobs no matter how big or small, and it’s that trust that makes their home run so smoothly.

Taehyung has always understood this. From the day he first opened his eyes, he’s always known where his place has been within the hierarchy of the solar system. He’s a lonely planet in the shadow of the Earth, left to hear the calls of the humans for their home planet but never for him. To those that stare up at him, he is but a night light in the vast expanse of space.

When you’re a low tier deity - much like those of the dwarf planets - you’re not as needed as others. Earth is always busy with his humans, and to find him when the deities meet is a truly rare occurrence - to find any high deity other than the Sun, Universe, Galaxy, and Fate was a true miracle. They all have important jobs that keep life on Earth flourishing and the planets orbiting around the Sun and stars lit in the sky, and he’s just there as an afterthought. 

No one asks for Taehyung the Moon God. No one knows about him. No one needs him. He rests on a single rock in the sky with no one to talk to and no one to help.

He just exists.

There are some days where he’ll sit on the dark side of his planet and sit in the silence. He’ll create his own world and pretend that he is a great and powerful being with many friends and a bounty of people to look up to him. He’ll stay in that dream for days and weeks on end, and his only wish is to remain there.

On days where he’ll roam the other half of his home, he’ll sit and listen close to the tiny voices calling from Earth. He’ll listen in on their conversations and talk back as if they were talking to him for once. 

“Yes, you may have a dog very soon.”

“Your brother is sick? Give him two days and he’ll be all better!”

“You wish to meet? I wish we could, but I am just a deity and you are a human.”

Hours he’d spend talking to himself and pretending that he was helping others. For that short period of time that he amused himself, he always felt lighter and like he was more than just the Moon.

It was one day talking to himself that he finally heard it. The plea was loud and bold - almost as if the person was sitting right next to him - and it had him scrambling to his feet faster than he could leave for another planet. 

“Moon Goddess, please hear my prayer. I need your help,” An unfamiliar male voice pleads. Taehyung looks around, but there’s no sign of life anywhere around him. The voice continues, “Please...I no longer wish to be alone.”

It feels like a punch to the gut to have someone begging him - for him of all people - to help them feel less lonely. How could he help if he couldn’t even make real friends of his own. What was he supposed to do for him that he couldn’t do himself?

“Please...I do so much for my people and I love them with everything I am, but I can’t do this alone anymore!” The pain in the human’s voice hits Taehyung deep, deeper than anything he’s heard before. Perhaps it’s because for once, he’s the one being called upon instead, “I know this is too much to ask, but I beg of you. Just a lover or even a friend would do. But I can’t be lonely like this anymore.”

Had he said anything else then maybe Taehyung would have ignored him.

Had it not been so long that he himself had been alone, he wouldn’t have answered.

But Taehyung finds himself on Earth without a second thought, hiding behind a tree in what he can only describe as a human village. Men and women walk along a dirt path lined with miniature buildings, each one containing what looks to be food or crafts. Children run wildly between the legs of adults, and each person - young or old - that he sees wears beautiful clothing much different from his.

“Strange...” The god muses to himself.His peers were no stranger to beautiful clothing, but theirs were far from what these humans wear. Colorful silks layered over each other, simple yet beautiful. Taehyung finds himself completely entranced.

Instead of jumping out into the open, the god sticks to the shadows. He tiptoes behind stalls, peeking around the corner to watch the crowd as they pass by. He observes the way they walk and the way they interact with each other, wanting nothing more than to place himself in their conversations. But no one but Namjoon could talk to him.

If he were to bring too much attention to himself, then the other deities would figure him out before he could help Namjoon. To complete his mission, he would have no choice but to remain a secret to only the king and those within his home. No one could know about him.

It takes him a while to get through town, but Taehyung finally stumbles upon the royal castle. “Is this really a human home?” He asks himself.

The long, fenced path that leads him to the gated palace is beautiful. It’s decorated with flower bushes and lanterns every few feet. The palace itself stands tall above the gate it’s encased in. It’s much more extravagant than what he’d imagined of a human, “It’s much larger than the ones on the way here.”

A woman comes around the side of the gate wearing beautiful garments of white and pink, a basket in her hands filled with fruits. Her clothes are gorgeous, and compared to Taehyung’s own clothing, she fits in better among the people he’s seen. 

“Her clothes are so beautiful.” He says aloud, admiring the swish of the fabric as she enters the grounds past the guards. Looking down at his own clothes, Taehyung pouts, “I guess I don’t fit in…” Taehyung thinks back to the beautiful pieces he’s seen in such a short time already. He’d need something just as beautiful and as comfortable as theirs. 

Without much of a second thought, Taehyung uses what magical prowess he has to make himself his own white and baby blue attire to help himself blend in. His hair he decides to let down, layered on his shoulders. His new attire makes him feel somehow more powerful, and he can’t stop the proud smile that spreads on his face, “Much better.”

Taehyung makes his approach to the gate where he saw his inspiration enter, smiling brightly at the stone-faced guards that eye him wearily. The guard to the left of the doors puts a hand out in front of him, “Stop! What business do you have here?”

“What business?” Taehyung stops to think. He hadn’t thought much about human society or their culture. His plan was to show up and talk to the King, he didn’t expect to be put at a standstill so close to his destination. Without thinking much of it, he turns his nose up, “I’m here on the King’s business.”

The guard on the right takes a step forward, “The King didn’t send for anyone.”

“He called for me.” Taehyung assures them, not letting the inconvenience stop him. No matter what, he had to find a way in to see the King. Even if he had to lie his way through. “He sent me a letter himself.”

The left guard holds out his hand, “I want the letter.”

The God’s stomach drops, “I don’t have it anymore, he-...” He pauses for just a moment, “-he told me to get rid of it!”

The guard holding out his hand pulls it back and shrugs, “If it’s gone then we can’t let you in.”

The guard to his right moves forward to lead him away, but Taehyung is quick to protest, “Wait! Can’t you just take a message to him from me so he knows that I’m here? I’ll wait.”

“This is ridiculous.” The guard trying to corral him scoffs. He tries to grab him again, but Taehyung moves away once more.

“The King said it was urgent that I get here!” Taehyung insists. He tries to think of any excuse that could help him, any lie that would get him past these guards. 

And then it hits him.

Pulling himself together, Taehyung stands with a certain air of false confidence, “It would be a shame if you not letting me in upsets him.”

Both guards tense at the mention of their King upset, the both of them having witnessed his temper before. Neither wanted to see their King angry again, and it showed on their faces. Taehyung considers it a win when the guard in front of him backs away with a narrowed gaze, “What’s your message?”

Taehyung is careful with his wording. He can’t outright say he is the Moon God, too many people would find out and then he’d have to deal with the higher deities coming after him. “Tell him that I read his prayer and I’m here to help. I’ll solve all of his problems just as he asked when the moon was full.” 

This excuse is just enough.

The guard in front of him scoffs, “This sounds like nothing of importance.” 

“Then your King won’t take long to turn me away.” He glares at Taehyung, but he enters the gates to deliver his message anyways. His companion steps in front of the two doors as they close, staring down at the God. 

It only takes what feels like a few moments - for Taehyung - before the Guard returns. He looks angry, but he sighs when he meets Taehyung’s gaze, “He’ll see you.”

The god walks with a bounce in his step as he follows after the disgruntled guard. He pays no mind to the man's emotions, his only focus on the palace around him. Many women and children walk the grounds in groups, somewhere the number of children overpower the adults. More guards walk at ease around them and more at ease than the one that guides him. None of them seem to even realize just how beautiful their home really is, but Taehyung is completely in awe of its beauty.

They come to a stop in front of a closed set of doors, the guard turning around to face Taehyung before he pushes one side open for the god to enter before him. The room is large, a high ceiling being held by long red pillars that line both sides of the room. The floor is covered in tile instead of wood like the hallway, the center tiles a different color and creates a path to the large throne that sits at the other end of the room. 

On top of this throne sits a man wearing deep red silks embroidered with gold. His dark hair sits in a bun on the top of his head with a gold piece holding it in place. On his lap is a closed book, resting between hands that tremble as they hold to his robes. With such beautiful silks and the elegance that radiates off his aura, this man is in no doubt the King that called to him.

When he notices Taehyung’s arrival, he stands from his throne, “Welcome-!” His book falls to his feet and the King scrambles to pick it up and place it on his throne. He clears his throat and fixes his posture, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The guard next to Taehyung bows and he follows suit, careful not to step on his new clothes. When he stands tall again, Taehyung smiles, “I apologize for taking so long.”

“That’s quite alright.” The King assures him. He turns his attention to the guard at Taehyung’s side, “You may leave us.” The man bows his head and leaves, closing the door behind him and leaving the god and the King alone.

When Taehyung is sure no one else will hear them, he smiles, “I have to say, I’m very impressed with the way you humans have made your homes.” He looks around the walls of the room and the lanterns that bring light to it, “I have to admit, there’s much more light than I’m used to.”

Namjoon sighs in relief and places a hand over his heart, “So you really are the Moon Goddess-“ The title throws the god off guard. “-I was hoping I hadn’t misread the situation.”

“Uh...yes. I am the deity of the Moon.” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, “I think there’s actually been a-”

“When I prayed the other night begging for your help, I thought I had finally gone crazy!” Namjoon makes slow steps off of his throne and to the brunette. He stops in front of him, standing just a few inches taller with a look of pure wonder and merriment, “But you’re here. You’re right here.” He reaches out to touch his shoulders but he stops himself, not wanting to offend the deity in front of him in any way, “Do Gods and Goddesses wear hanboks as well?”

“Not quite. We wear robes of silk in whatever form is most comfortable. I made this myself.” Taehyung turns from side to side, adding in a slow turn for the king to see the extent of his handiwork.

“Remarkable~” 

“Yes, I suppose it is. Now, about me being the Goddess-”

“Yes! Moon Goddess. I’m still letting it all sink in.” The king places a hand to his temple - almost as if scolding himself for possibly forgetting. He shakes his head with a pleased smile and returns his attention to the god, “You really shouldn’t have bothered with the guards.”

“Right, well, I didn’t have your exact location to find you. My magic really onl-”

“Magic?!” Namjoon repeats. The mention of magic seems to startle him more than the man being a god - or goddess in his own words, “Of course you would use magic. How else would you be able to come here to me? How does it work?”

“Oh...well, I- uh…” In the eons that Taehyung has existed, he’s never once thought about his powers as anything but just that. He’s never questioned having magic, he just knows that he can use it, he knows how he can use it, and that it can be finicky even for him. Not once has he ever considered there was more to it than that. “I’m not sure how to describe it.”

Namjoon nods, “That’s fair. I suppose it would be hard to explain something you’re born with.” 

“Speaking of things that we’re born with-”

“So, what’s your plan?” Namjoon asks, unintentionally interrupting the god before he does something to expose himself.

“My plan?” Taehyung repeats.

Namjoon nods, “You said you’d take care of all of my problems. I assume you have a plan.”

“Yes...A plan!” Taehyung tries to let the reminder of his words sink in, but off the top of his head, he can’t remember creating a real plan. “I do have a plan.” 

On his trip down, he never considered that he’d need a real plan. He only planned to help him out and leave. It didn’t cross his mind that he should probably make a plan before meeting with a human king.

Something for him to remember in the future.

Taehyung thinks for a moment. He ignores the impatient stare that Namjoon gives him, and racks his brain for anything that could possibly help him obtain what he wants.

And then it hits him.

“A necklace!” He announces, “I’ll make one to attract your soulmate.”

“My soulmate?” Namjoon repeats with furrowed brows, “I don’t understand.”

“When the universe was born and all of the planets came along with it, the humans of Earth were created as well.” Taehyung gestures for the king to follow him to the back of his throne room where the large window resides, “The Earth God once told me that his humans were more focused on survival and protecting the other half born to them than worshiping him. He got so angry with them that he took it upon himself to split them apart.” 

Outside Namjoon’s window, he can see into the garden of his palace. There are a few stragglers that still bring in baskets of goods, and some who walk slow to enjoy the fresh air, “He forced them to live their lives searching for their other half and worshiping him and the gifts he gave them.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, he made Fate angry that day.” Taehyung can still hear Fate’s cries of rage and anguish she threw at his friend that day. If she weren’t a peaceful entity, then she probably would have knocked him around too, “She nearly stripped him of his power against the higher council, but they gave him another chance.”

Namjoon nods, taking in the information the god has given him with practiced poise. He takes a look into his own garden and thinks about all of his friends and his people that spend their days working and looking for love, “Why would he do that?”

“I think - because he’s so lively and outgoing, and he has such a huge responsibility - that he doesn’t understand his humans as much as he likes to think he does.” Taehyung can’t help but think of where his friend could be at this very moment. ‘They’re just humans, Taehyung, if one dies then Life brings me another.’ His friend once told him with a shrug, as if his humans weren’t the most interesting and complicated creatures he was tasked to take care of, “To him, he has so many of you to choose from. So, he just does whatever he wants.”

“But you’ll bring mine to me?”

“I will.”

“When do we get started?”

Namjoon’s question takes a minute for Taehyung to answer. Given the circumstances he won’t know any different what he says, but even so, this process is one the god has never tried before, “I can start as soon as tomorrow.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? Food, water, ingredients?”

“No, food and water are trivial for me.” Taehyung waves the offer away. Food and water were human resources, things he could have but didn’t truly need. His biggest problem would be to stay in hiding, “However, you shouldn’t tell anyone else about who I really am.”

“No?”

“Gods and Goddesses only visit humans so often when called. Others will get jealous and take it out on you. I don’t want that to happen.” Not a lie, but not the truth. It’s better that way anyways.

“I can say you’re a new advisor. An excuse to stay within my palace and be near me.” Namjoon offers, earning an appreciative nod from the god, “Do you have a name? What should I call you?”

“Call me...Jihye.” Taehyung smiles. His new female persona will work nice while he stays with the humans, “Jihye will do just fine.”

---

For two weeks, Taehyung has spent everyday using as much magic as he can to create the necklace he promised Namjoon. At first, he wasn’t sure exactly how he would complete it. To attract a soulmate you have to have a piece of them. With no clue where Namjoon’s soulmate was, or even a way to find them, he had to think of anything that would help him.

And then he had a thought.

Two halves of the same soul. Namjoon still has a connection with his soulmate even if they were separated from him. The smallest drop of his blood on a rock from his home would help the God to attract the other half ten-fold. Namjoon was more than willing to provide anything that would help him. Now, with glittering pink gems created from Namjoon’s blood as his soulmate’s heart, Taehyung just has to wait for the effects to take place.

“Lady Jihye?” A servant calls from the hall. Taehyung calls out for her to come in and she enters, “You have a visitor.”

He smiles, “You can let them in, thank you.” She nods her head and backs out of his room.

Against his better judgement, Taehyung allowed himself to take on this Jihye persona. It wouldn’t look right if he only spoke to the King and snuck around to speak to him. As long as no one knows he’s the Moon God - or Goddess as Namjoon knows him as - then he’d be alright.

Another knock is placed on the door before it opens up to reveal the same servant, “This way, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung freezes. 

It’s been so long since he’d last been to a council meeting, but he’d never forget the sound of your voice. You were always present and always checking in. He should have never doubted your ability to find people.

When you step past the servant in your own hanbok similar to his - this one purple and pink with white accents - you’re sure to meet his eye with a stare that could make Death weep. In the centuries it had been since he'd seen you, you had let your hair grow longer. It pulled your outfit together in a nice updo he had seen the other woman wearing around the palace. It would seem you had done your research before you came to see him.

When his door closes and it’s just the two of you, he sends you a nervous smile, “(Y/n)!” He spreads his arms for a hug, but your expression remains unimpressed.

“Taehyung.”

He puts his arms down when he realizes you aren’t going to greet him, “What are you doing here?” 

“The real question is what are you doing here, Taehyung?” You ask.

“Uh…” He takes a moment, “Sight-seeing?”

You don't acknowledge his obvious lie, “Really? Then tell me why two strings have converged.”

“Uh...fate?” You give him a look, almost as if daring to even try and explain that one. His shoulders drop, “You’re not buying it.”

“No, I’m not.” You say, “What do you think you’re doing, Taehyung?”

“I’m trying out this wonderful women’s hanbok. They’re actually very comfortable, I don’t see why the men don’t wear them instead-” He attempts to turn and spin for you to show off the fabric that lays against his skin, but you interrupt him.

“Taehyung! I don’t care about the clothing!” You yell. You take a moment to calm yourself, moving forward and keeping your voice down for any listening ears, “I want to know what you think you’re doing messing around with Fate’s work! My work!”

“What I can!” He says, “Namjoon is just lonely and he wants the comfort of his soulmate.”

“Soulmates are not for you to mess with! Did you learn nothing when I raked Jimin across the coals?” You ask, reminding him of the selfish deity with only himself in mind, “I took responsibility over his humans for a reason!”

“I didn’t assign him a new one!” Taehyung explains, trying his best to defend himself and his decisions.

“But you’re messing with their timeline! It is not time for them to meet yet, and you-” You reach over to his dresser where the shining jewels rest hidden underneath it’s cloth. He hid them there from anyone that may enter his room, but none of their eyes see as much as yours. You pluck one from the pile and shove it in his face, “creating these demon jewels will only cause trouble!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I see it all!” You remind him. You put the jewel back where it belongs and resort to pressing your finger into his chest, “These humans are mine to deal with, Taehyung. I won’t stand for you interfering with my responsibility.”

Taehyung hangs his head. He doesn’t understand why you won’t just let him do this one thing. It’s only two humans, there’s no need for everyone to make such a fuss over it. When he brings Namjoon and his soulmate together, then they’ll all see just how important this necklace really is. 

When you remove your finger from his chest, he looks up, “Why can’t they just be happy sooner?”

You know better than anyone what it’s like when others mess with fate. You remember how bad Jimin messed up like it was yesterday, and it’s made your job as a deity that much harder to deal with. The other’s just don’t understand what your job entails, and it seems there’s only one way they’ll all learn. 

You meet Taehyung’s eyes, “You really want to know why?” You ask

“Yes.”

“Fine.” You put your hands up in surrender and take a step back, “I’ll let you play your little matchmaking game, but don’t come crying to me when you realize what you’ve done.” You walk all the way back to the door you had come through. Before you leave, you look to Taehyung one last time, “Do you understand?”

With all the power in him, Taehyung nods, “Trust me, I won’t.”

As you leave, Taehyung is unsure if he’s really making the right decision, but he has no time to second guess himself. The only thing he can do now is wait for the gems to finish and complete the necklace before Namjoon’s soulmate would become fully attracted to it.

---

“So, this is it?” Namjoon asks.

In his hands he holds the delicate pink jewels and silver stones strung together with gold. Taehyung had finished it that morning and waited all day for Namjoon to finish with his official business before he showed it to the King. The both of them have been so excited for this day, and now it was here.

“This is it.” Taehyung unwraps the cloth from around his creation and presents it to the king, “This necklace will attract your soulmate and bring them to you.”

“Wonderful.”Namjoon takes the necklace in his hands, holding the object as gingerly as he can. His eyes take in every last detail, and he seems very pleased with the god’s work.

“Can I ask you a question, Jihye?”

“Ask away.”

“Why are you helping me?” Namjoon meets his eye, but it doesn’t ease the god’s confusion, “You said Gods and Goddess’ very rarely help humans when they ask for it. So why help me?”

“I guess I felt a lot like you.” Taehyung admits. He’d felt so lonely and like his purpose was wasteful sitting up on his planet, wasting his days daydreaming in silence. “When you’re the deity of something as insignificant as the moon, you grow lonely. Being here to help you through this makes me feel important.”

Namjoon places a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, “Moon Goddess or no Moon Goddess, you’re pretty important to me.” The king’s smile is bright and comforting. It’s one of his more refining qualities as a king, and it’s something he’s noticed throughout his time in the palace. “It may seem silly, but I’d like to believe we’ve become friends.”

“Friends?” Taehyung repeats. Namjoon nods and Taehyung smiles, “I like that. Friends are unbreakable.”

“Oh! Speaking of breakables, what if someone breaks the necklace before my soulmate finds me?” The King asks.

“Impossible. The only way this necklace will break is if you and your loved one agree to break the bond.” Taehyung assures him. He had made sure to include that back door in his planning process. He couldn’t let anyone tear his project apart, and that included one singular half of the pair, “You’re stuck with them for eternity.”

“Just like friends.” Namjoon says, casually throwing in the similarity with a fond smile, “It sounds amazing.”

“It will be.”

It should have been.

A few days after Taehyung had finished the necklace, Namjoon fell ill. At first, it seemed like a simple cold, but the King only seemed to grow weaker as days continued to pass. There were times where in the morning he’d be able to walk around the palace garden, and by the afternoon he was bed ridden until lunch the next day. Some days, nobody would see his majesty at all.

The King’s practitioner’s tried their best to keep him fed and hydrated, but no medicine they had was able to do the trick. They could only give him remedies to take away the pain until whatever it was passed or the King went with it peacefully.

Knowing that Namjoon - someone he had become so close to - was on the brink of meeting a friend of his, Taehyung couldn’t sit himself still. When no one was watching, he ran off to the far edge of the palace hunting grounds. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him until he reached the stream Namjoon had shown him.

“(Y/n)!” He yells, crying into the wind, “(Y/n), I know you can hear me!”

“What?” You told him not to come crying to you, yet here he was interrupting your duties. He acts as though you aren’t busy with problems of your own. Yet against your own judgement, you appear behind him with a fixed appearance.

“What’s happening to him? Why is Namjoon sick?” He asks, turning to you filled with fury and sadness. He takes notice of the clothing you changed into, “Why are you wearing men’s clothing?”

You look down to the blue and white hanbok you had seen some of the palace guards wearing and shrug, “Oh, so you can walk around in women’s clothing but I can’t appreciate the design of men’s?”

The god shakes his head, “Nevermind. Tell me what’s wrong with him.”

“He’s sick.”

“I know he’s sick. Why is he sick? Why is he so weak and losing his hair?!” He demands. 

You cross your arms over your chest, “I told you what would happen if you mess with fate.” 

“No. You only said not to come crying to you.” 

“Yet here you are.” Taehyung’s face contorts from anger to hurt and you look away from him to the trees that surround you. You sigh, “Look, I see the future and hold it in my hands-” To prove your point you hold out your hands to show the miniature galaxy that forms between your palms, an infinite number of strings tied to your fingers, “-and when you go around playing with something you shouldn’t then it plays back.”

“Then fix it!”

“I don’t think you get it, Taehyung. I. Can’t. Fix. This!” You let your mini-galaxy dissolve away and advance towards the quivering man before you. Even with his lesson being thrown right in his face, he still doesn’t understand. You use both hands to cup his cheeks, holding him there so he’s forced to look at you, “You’ve doomed their fate, and now they pay the price.”

The hurt that swims in his golden irises bubbles over in hot tears, “This isn’t what I wanted.”

He had tried so hard to make everything perfect. All he wanted to do was help humans and be important like other deities. Just like Namjoon, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. But what is he supposed to do now that Namjoon is sick beyond repair?

“I tried to warn you.” 

In your opinion, a God like Taehyung needs to be monitored more carefully. He - and other planets such as dwarves - would never be able to understand the responsibility that comes with the universe. They’re much too close to humans, far too close to temptation. They’ll learn to feel what the humans feel, and then they’re doomed to be just as destructive. That’s what happened to Jimin, and it’s already influencing him.

“Now you must learn your lesson.” You pull away from the brunette, ready to leave him there and return to your duties. 

“Isn’t there anything I can do?” Taehyung asks, stopping you before you can even think of moving. With all of your knowledge, Taehyung knows there has to be other options, other paths he can choose before Namjoon’s downfall is the only one left. You just had to tell him. “What are there- maybe 12 outcomes?!”

Of course, you do know what’s to come. Two outcomes were likely about to happen in the coming weeks, and you have to prepare for them both before the time arrives. Either way, both will destroy Taehyung to a point that you don’t know if he’ll return. You can only guide him to the better of the two.

“Destroy the necklace or don’t let them meet until after he’s dead. Those are your options.” You turn your back to Taehyung, unable to meet his eye any longer. However, Taehyung isn’t finished with you.

“What do you mean ‘those are my options’?! Where are you going?!” He cries, still heartbroken and confused over the ultimatum you had given him.

The last thing you want to do is hurt Taehyung, but sometimes the harsh truth is what someone needs the most, “To do my job. Maybe you should learn to do yours.”

Taehyung didn’t take your words lightly. He did his job, but not the one he was born to do. 

No.

He worked even harder to help Namjoon find his soulmate. He refused to destroy his hard work, and he definitely wasn’t going to let Namjoon die before he got the chance to see his true love. 

Namjoon, however, wasn’t as sure as Taehyung that he would get to that point.

“I know you’re-” Namjoon lets out a wet cough, “-you’re working hard, Jihye. But I don’t think I’ll get there.”

Taehyung shakes his head, cutting through another piece of hair at the top on the king’s head, “You will. I know you will.”

“How can you be so sure?” He asks sleepily.

“I just have this feeling.”

“And if your feeling is wrong?”

Taehyung has been pushing the possibility of failure as far away as he possibly can. He didn’t want to ever consider his plan a lost cause. If he did that, then that would mean Namjoon is a lost cause, and Namjoon is anything but that.

“Then I’ll wait everyday for your soulmate to come to you.” Taehyung assures him. 

“That won’t do me any good if I’m dead.” Namjoon reminds him. Taehyung pushes the remark aside and instead focuses on combing through the king’s hair, “They’d be talking to a skeleton.”

Taehyung shakes his head, “I’m sure I could figure something out.”

“You know...I read that the Egyptians would-” He coughs, “-mummify their dead.”

The suggestion makes the god stop. He had never considered that other humans may have ways to preserve their dead, “Do you really think that will work?”

“I don’t think we have anything to lose.”

At Namjoon’s request, Taehyung ordered palace guards to search for someone who could perform the procedure. He ordered them to move fast and to not waste anytime. The sooner they could find a doctor knowledgeable in the art, the sooner he’d be able to decide if turning his friend into a mummy was the way to go.

The last thing Taehyung expected was for Namjoon’s soulmate to show up as the doctor performing his procedure.

He didn’t notice the connection right away. She was quiet and straight to the point, she didn’t leave any room for Taehyung to notice anything right away. But when he brought her to the infirmary to familiarize herself with the room, is when he noticed the string that seemed to hang off of her hand. She herself hadn’t even noticed the string pulling at her smallest finger. It was as if the string was a ghost and only Taehyung had an interest in it.

By the time it came for her to meet the King himself, Taehyung had already come up with a plan to get her to touch the necklace. He didn’t care if you had told him not to do it until after. In his mind, the sooner Namjoon and his soulmate could be together the better.

If only he could’ve had her touch the necklace a moment sooner. In between the guards rushing her out of the room and Namjoon’s shallow breathing, Taehyung could see you outside of the room watching it all unfold from the corridor. You look content, far too content for someone that just witnessed true love slip away from one another. Your contempt made him angry, but he had to ignore you for Namjoon’s sake. 

Unfortunately, Taehyung had needed a miracle.

Later that same night, Namjoon said his last parting words: “Watch over them for me.”

Unbeknownst to the King, he had already met his soulmate. She was just down the hall and under heavy guard. Even after his body and possessions were placed before her to begin the process, the King’s necklace was kept under close watch by his guard. Taehyung had tried so hard to remind the guard that Namjoon had wanted his necklace by his side at all times, but none of them would listen to him.

Because of that, Namjoon’s soulmate - Choi Eunha - left to return home. Namjoon himself was sealed inside of a tomb beneath his palace, and Taehyung was left to mourn the loss of friend.

It was raining the day you were sent to retrieve him. The King’s tomb had just been sealed and many palace servants had already dispersed to return to their own lives. The only person left was Taehyung, resting in a deep bow he had brought all the way to the ground. His forehead rests against the stone of the tomb, and it takes everything you have not to rip the god away from it.

You come to stand beside him, stopping just in front of the tomb's sealed entrance in the palace garden, “I tried to warn you.”

Taehyung shakes his head, “They were so close…”

“It wasn’t going to end how you had hoped.”

Taehyung’s head snaps from his mournful position to you, “You don’t know that!” He cries.

His eyes are red and puffy, and the streaks from the tears he shed paint his cheeks. His lip quivers in both anger and sadness, and you can only look at him in pity, “Taehyung, we’ve been over this.”

Taehyung turns himself around so his back rests against the king’s door. He hangs his head, “Just go away and leave me be. Haven’t you done enough?”

You feel a twinge of guilt, but you push it aside. You weren’t here to be his friend, you’re here to do a job, “I can’t. I’m supposed to bring you to the council.”

“Can’t this wait?”

You sigh, “Humans have made you soft, Taehyung.” You place a hand on his shoulder, but he grabs your wrist and pulls it away from him.

“The humans haven’t made me anything!” He protests, “It’s normal to feel sad over the loss of a friend.” Mourning is all he’d done since he last spoke to the king. Since he last saw him smile, close his eyes, take a single breath, all Taehyung has done is mourn the loss of one of the best friends he’s known. 

But of course you wouldn’t understand. To you, humans are expendable beings incapable of doing anything beneficial for the universe. You were just as heartless as you’ve always been, and that’s something even Taehyung couldn’t fix, “Maybe more people would like you if you showed a little compassion.”

It shouldn’t hit you as hard as it does, but his words hurt more than you ever thought they would. Not only that, but they’re completely unnecessary. Here you are treating him with more kindness than you should be giving him, and he’s insulting you in return. 

You pull your hand away, “I don’t have to be nice to you, Taehyung. I’m already giving you the option to move of your own free will.”

“Oh, wow, the bare minimum.” Taehyung says sarcastically. He flashes you a fake smile and from a flower that lays next to him, he creates a small pile of coins, “Do you want an award.”

“You want to be an ass? Fine. I can be one too.” You grab Taehyung by the front of his clothes and pull up. Together, you travel from Earth to Star 13, the meeting place of the deities. 

A large opaque building held strong by blue, iridescent columns. Inside where you stand, is a singular room with large marble chairs placed in a circle. Each chair but 2 are filled, a very rare occurrence for a normal meeting. At the designated ‘front’ of the circle are the 6 chairs of the high ranking deities. Universe at the center, Life and Death on each shoulder, an empty chair and Cosmos beside them, and Galaxy and Sun on the remaining sides. These 6 make up the Higher Authority within the council.

You let go of Taehyung and allow him to fall to the floor on his own, the god only catching himself on his elbows. You cross your arms and nod to the council in front of you, “Council members (Y/n) and Moon God Taehyung.”

The members of the council nod their heads in acknowledgment, but only 1 speaks, “Welcome, we’ve been waiting for the two of you.” Universe - Hui -  greets. His smile radiates calm, but his aura radiates anything but. He gestures to the empty chair next to Life, “(Y/n) please take your seat. Moon, please take the center of the circle.”

Taehyung nods and stands from his position on the floor, watching with distaste as you walk away from him to your own chair. He dusts himself off and tries to present himself better than his initial entrance, “Moon God Taehyung, reporting for council.”

“Council Member Juhyun.”

Juhyun - Deity of the galaxy stands from his chair, “We the council have been forced to acknowledge the destructive actions brought upon mere humans by Moon God Taehyung. It has come to our attention that you have not only abandoned your position for weeks, but you have tampered with soulmate strings of Fate. Is this information true?”

“Yes.”

Juhyun nods, “Would the council member please explain his reasoning for tampering with Fate’s strings?”

“Do I need any more reason besides love?” Taehyung asks, his brows furrowed in confusion. If there was one thing life on Earth had taught him, it was that love was the most powerful force. Love could make a tough man weak and weak man strong.

Bora - Goddess of the cosmos - scoffs, “Deities do not partake in love.”

“The council will need a better reason.” Juhyun says. 

Taehyung looks to the council with a blank stare. In his mind, he tries to fathom how those with so much power can’t possibly see the benefits of love. He doesn’t understand how they can hear about 2 people in love who are connected by Fate and see an issue of pulling them together. Even Fate herself can’t see it! 

Hoseok - Death himself tilts his head in confusion, “Nothing?”

“Maybe his own selfish desires…” Yoongi mumbles to himself, the bitterness of Life seeping through. 

“If the council member Moon has no explanation then we will move forward.” Hui announces, silencing the background conversations. He turns to you, “(Y/n), any suggestions for punishment?”

You turn your attention to Hui and back to Taehyung. Discipline has been at the forefront of your mind since you first saw Taehyung’s own string of Fate cross and pull against those of humans. The anger you feel from him now is the anger you’ve felt for the past weeks that he’s been messing around. In your opinion, he has no right to be so upset with you for doing your job, but his opinion of you having no compassion is entirely inaccurate. 

“I think council member Moon has had enough punishment.” You say, taking everyone by surprise. The last time someone messed with Fate’s strings, you were all but popping a blood vessel. Hoseok and Yoongi were both so worried, they thought they might have to assign a new deity. 

Juhyun sits in his chair and leans over to speak with you, “Are you sure?” He asks

“Yeah, are you okay?” Yoongi adds in.

You nod, “I would like to suggest restricted access to humans and the destruction of the imposing necklace.” You turn to Hui, ignoring the hard glare being sent your way from the offending god, “I don’t want this to happen again, but from what I’ve seen, I believe he understands what he’s done was wrong.”

“Is there anyone within the council that disagrees?” Hui addresses the council, but no one argues. Whether it’s from shock that you weren’t harder on the Moon God or the fact that no one wanted to be there for very long, who knows. “Juhyun.”

Juhyun stands, “Based on the testimony of council member (Y/n) - Fate herself - he should not receive major punishment. He will, however, be sent back to Earth to destroy the necklace before it does any more damage. He will also no longer be allowed to roam Earth as he pleases, and Council Member Earth will inform the council if this punishment is not fulfilled. Is there any reason this punishment should not take place?”

No one argues and Hui continues, “Would Council Member Moon like to add anything before we make the final judgement?” 

“Council Member Moon!” Taeyang shouts.

“No.”

“The Galactic Council has spoken. Meeting adjourned.”

The other members of council are quick to disappear, but Taehyung lingers. He’s never felt so numb, and he doesn’t understand why he feels this way. He suspects this is what loss feels like. Instead of a lonely sadness, it feels like a piece of himself has been ripped away and there’s nothing he can do to get it back except wait.

When he’s escorted to Earth to grab the necklace and destroy it, he can’t stop himself from hesitating. In front of him is the last piece of Namjoon he has left. If he destroys it, then the likelihood of him ever seeing Namjoon would fall away completely.

And then there’s Namjoon’s last words: “Watch over them for me.”

What kind of friend would he be to go back on his word? If friendships were for eternity, then how could he ever bring himself to stab his friend in the back even in the afterlife? The answer? He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

He makes his decision as soon as Jimin calls out to check on him, “Taehyung, did you find it?” 

“Yeah!” Instead of destroying the necklace he created, he pockets it. He takes another piece of jewelry from the altar and crushes it beneath his feet, breaking it just as they’d want him to break the necklace. That is what he hands to his friend on his way out, ignoring the sad smile he offers.

He didn’t need it.

He has the necklace.

As long as he keeps the necklace with him, then he’ll find Eunha again. He’ll find her and he’ll bring her and Namjoon together no matter what. Even if it takes centuries, he’ll wait as long as it takes to keep his promise to Namjoon.

*

*

*

Taehyung spent hundreds of years sitting alone on his space rock, holding close to him the only piece he had left of a friend and a responsibility he couldn’t fulfill. Every moment he spent alone he went over every detail that went wrong in his head. He tore himself apart over things that could have gone better and what he could’ve done differently. But in every single scenario, he refused to give up on Namjoon.

You had tried to come and see him every decade or so, just to make sure that he himself was doing okay, but Taehyung would always sneak away to the dark side of his planet. It seemed like your presence was more damaging to him than the silence. You knew he’d be upset, but you never expected it to be so severe. A part of you didn’t want him to be alone, even if it had been awhile since the incident. But there was nothing you could do if he didn’t want to see you.

It wasn’t like Taehyung wasn’t used to solitude. Even before his restrictions he was always lonely more often than not. For him, he’s just gone back to his normal life. He even went back to listening to the humans again.

It took him quite a few decades to even get used to hearing humans again, and then a few more to listen to what they were saying. Not many asked for him, though there were a handful more than he had ever received before. It made him feel better, and those few calls to him over Jimin really kept him a float during his wait.

And then he heard it.

It was quiet at first, but Taehyung was able to make out the sloppy conversation of a child.

“...4, 5, 6, 7…” There’s a slight pause to the voice, “What comes after 7?”

Taehyung stifles a laugh. He’s never had a child talk to him before. The last children he’d been able to talk to were the children at Namjoon’s palace, and they went to him in hopes that he would play.

“You have a lot of stars by you. Momma says the stars are angels. Momma also says you have a Goddess and a man living there. Is that true?” The little girl asks. 

It would seem Namjoon’s influence wore off on everyone else. He’d forever be known as the Moon Goddess Taehyung and not the Moon God. And now there was a man on his planet as well? Probably a human tale or something along those lines.

“You’re quiet...” The girl says, coming to the conclusion herself, “Do you ever talk?”

He shouldn’t do it. 

He shouldn’t give into the temptation again, but he doesn’t want to leave someone so cute waiting for him to answer.

With the confidence that he can stay hidden long enough, Taehyung appears for her. With a more practiced accuracy than with Namjoon’s, he lands in the little girls room on her bed, “Did you want me to talk?”

The small child turns fast away from her window, her pigtails swinging behind her, “Are you the man on the moon? Your clothes are old.”

“Do you like them?” He asks, looking down at the clothes he had modeled after the ones he had worn on Earth during his previous visit, “What’s your name?”

“Choi Eunha! I’m 5!” The little girl states proudly.

The sound of her name stops Taehyung in his tracks. On instinct, he grabs the necklace in his pocket and pulls it out to see the glowing gems. Unknowingly, he had found her again. He didn’t even have to try. As if by the will of Fate, she found him.

Taehyung puts his necklace away, “Really? 5?! You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” She nods happily and Taehyung smiles, “I think you and I are going to be best friends, Eunha.”

From the ages of 5 to 8, Taehyung spent his time as Eunha’s imaginary friend. He’d follow her to and from elementary school, he’d help her get snacks and teach her about the stars. When she grew away from imaginary friends, he settled for watching her from afar. In a way, he became her guardian, and he made sure she had everything she needed to remain happy and healthy.

When it came time for her to start high school, Taehyung realized that watching from the wings wouldn’t get anywhere. If he wanted to make sure Eunha and Namjoon would come to meet, he’d have to interfere. But this time, he won’t do it alone.

“So, what are we doing again?” Jeongguk asks.

The young dwarf planet’s god and Taehyung were both dressed up in more modern, human fashion, walking down a busy street packed with humans wearing little-to-no clothing. Taehyung had already explained to him before they left what they were doing, but Jeongguk just wasn’t picking up on it.

Something he should’ve considered before recruiting him, but it was far too late to send him back.

“We’re meeting Jimin, remember?” Taehyung asks.

That seems to jog his memory, “Oh yeah. Do you really think we’ll find him with all of these people?”

Taehyung nods, “I’m sure of it.”

Both men glide past the bouncer, using a bit of magic to slide through. In a setting like this, no one will notice the two of them appearing out of thin air. The only thing they had to worry about was pushing their way to Jimin.

“Jimin?” Jeongguk grabs someone passing by, turning them to see that they’re not Jimin at all. He pulls his hand back, “Sorry...Jimin?!” He yells again, finding another look-a-like.

Taehyung stops him before he goes chasing after every human he sees, “Jeongguk! Not everyone is going to be Jimin.”

“Well, how else do you expect to find him?”

Loud shrieks from various women burst from the crowd somewhere in front of them and Taehyung shakes his head, “Just follow the screaming.”

The younger god follows after Taehyung in confusion, allowing the eldest to lead him through the crowd. The two come to a stop on the sidelines of what looks like a small dance circle, a pink haired man clad in leather pressed up against a woman. His cheek is pressed against hers and his hands rest lightly on her waist.

“I don’t see Jimin.” The blue haired man scans the crowd around them, but he doesn’t see anything but women circling them. Taehyung sighs and grabs Jeongguk’s chin, guiding him back to the man in the middle. “Oh…”

The bubblegum pink dancer throws his head back with a smile and turns to look over the crowd. His eyes don’t take long to land on the two gods at the edge of the circle, and Jimin’s smile turns into a smirk.

When Jimin leaves his partner and walks towards them, Taehyung thinks he’s come to greet him so they can talk privately. What he doesn’t expect is for his friend to grab him by the waistline of his pants and pull him into the center of the crowd. The screams of the women around them nearly burst his eardrums - something he never thought possible. He looks back to check on Jeongguk, but the poor man is already surrounded and frozen in fear.

“You know-” Jimin pulls Taehyung’s hips against his, bringing the two of them closer. He leans in with a salacious smile, “-I knew you couldn’t stay away.”

Taehyung remains unfazed by Jimin’s actions, “That’s kinda my job. I’m supposed to stay by you.”

Jimin pats Taehyung’s cheek, “We both know exactly what I’m talking about.” He turns his back to the purple haired man and presses himself into him, throwing his head back, “So, what did you do with it?”

“The necklace?”

“No, your girl parts.” Jimin pats his thigh, “Of course I’m talking about the necklace.” 

Tae leans down to Jimin’s ear, “Not until we finish talking, I’ll just let you know that I have it with me.”

“What? You think I’m going to run to the council?” The pink haired man intertwined his fingers with Taehyung’s, raising them in the air and sways his hips against him, “If I was going to do that, I would’ve told them the minute you decided not to destroy the necklace.”

Taehyung spins Jimin around to face him, their arms crossing over each other, “You knew this whole time?”

“Honey, I wrote the book.” Jimin pulls his hands from Taehyung’s grasp and gently places one on his hip, trailing the other up the man’s chest until it rests at the base of his throat, “I knew you got too close when we got to the tomb, but I wasn’t about to confront you.”

“Will you help me then?” Taehyung asks, completely unfazed.

Jimin lets his hand linger for a few moments longer before he pulls away with a sigh, “I love being raked across the coals by a strong woman just like any other man, but to cross (Y/n) is to dance with the devil.”

“Devil?”

“A human thing.”

Jimin turns himself back around to continue his dancing, circling his hips as he lowers himself to the floor in front of Taehyung. He watches him move down and up, but his focus isn’t on his body, “I just need you to keep an eye on Eunha.”

He stops in front of him and turns with a mischievous smile, “What does this entail~?”

“Becoming her friend and nothing but her friend.”

“You know every friend has done it once.” Jimin says with a wink.

“We haven’t.”

“We can change that.”

Taehyung places a hand on his friend’s arm, “Are you going to help or not?” 

“Yeah, sure. What more could the council do to me?” The pink haired man shrugs. He seems to let his decision settle before his content smile turns into a wide grin, “Just one thing though.”

“What?”

Before he can do anything, Jimin grabs Taehyung by his collar and pulls him down for a sloppy kiss. He takes both Taehyung and the crowd by surprise. What he says when he pulls away only makes it worse, “I take card too.”

“We’ll talk later.” 

With a blank expression, Taehyung turns around to leave. He spots Jeongguk right where he had left him, swarmed by women dancing up against him. His hands rest flat on his chest and his eyes are somehow even wider than they had been when he’d been pulled away.  

Taehyung pushes his way through the women and grabs one of the younger god’s hands to pull him away, “C’mon Jeongguk.” The blue haired man silently follows after him, his movements stiff. The once hyper young man is now dragging his feet behind him. 

Taehyung stops them by the bar, “Jeongguk? You okay?” He asks.

His wide doe-like eyes meet Taehyung’s, “I have seen the ways of God...”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

It’s late into the next afternoon before the two of them join Jimin in his apartment. Per the man’s request, they both waited long enough for any “guests” to leave before showing up. However, the woman that waves at them on their way out indicates that they didn’t wait long enough.

Jimin greets them at the door wearing a white robe and a chute of wine in his hand, “You’re early.”

Taehyung shakes his head and slides past him, “It’s 5 o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Really?” Jimin lets Jeongguk pass him before closing his door. The two visiting stop to take off their shoes as Jimin slips past them and takes a swig, “I think I’m losing my game...”

“Game?” Jeongguk asks, one hand against the wall to hold him up as he takes off his shoes, 

Jimin raises his glass to the air, “My game!”

“What kind of game are you play-ING!” Jeongguk slips, falling forward to his knees on the wood flooring of Jimin’s apartment.

“Can we just talk about the plan?” Taehyung begs.

Jimin sighs, “Look, I don’t know about the two of you, but I already have a secret identity. I’m not really looking to change that.” He walks to his kitchen and pulls out a bottle of wine to refill his empty glass.

Before he can pour himself a new glass, Taehyung grabs the bottle out of his hand, “You can’t live this lifestyle forever. You have to change it again at some point.”

“But now? Taehyung, do you know how great my life is right now?” Jimin gestures to the apartment around them, pointing out the view, the gorgeous furniture, and the great layout. It was a homeowners dream to have what Jimin has now, and Taehyung can see why he’d be reluctant to change it up and relocate.

Taehyung sighs, “I’m sure all the women you sleep with-”

“-And men!” Jeongguk adds firmly, standing next to the Moon God. 

Taehyung looks at him and then Jimin, but the Earth God just shrugs and smirks, “...and men you sleep with are great and all, but you said it yourself. You’re losing your game.” 

The neighboring planets stare at each other for a while until Jimin reluctantly agrees, “Fine.” He puts his hand out and motions towards his wine bottle, “Give me my wine.”

Taehyung hands it over and leans against the counter, “The question is, how do we create new identities?”

Jimin pours a steady stream into his glass, “You both literally can create whatever you want.”

“To an extent.” 

“I’ll make and get you what you need.” He passes his filled chute to Jeongguk and takes a swig straight from the bottle, “The real question is how do we get close to Eunbi?”

“Eunha.”

“Whatever. How do we keep an eye on her?”

“In three years she’ll be going to college for Astronomy in Seoul. Now, she really enjoyed the museum downtown when she was little-” Jeongguk passes his empty chute to Jimin and he refills the glass for him, “Her parents brought her there every summer and with the observatory they have there, I think she’ll try and get a job there.”

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, unimpressed with the current plan.

Jeongguk slides his empty glass to the middle of the counter again, “Yeah. How do you know she’ll even move to the city?”

“I know her.” Taehyung assures them with a proud smile, “Her dream school is up here, and she’ll need a job she can enjoy to go with it.”

Jimin takes another large swig of his wine before he chuckles, “We’re going to get in a lot of trouble if we get caught.”

“Like you said, what else could the council possibly do?”

“Make fun of us?” Jeongguks adds, his words slightly slurred from the 3 - more like 4 - glasses of wine.

The two look at each other and take a mirrored breath. This was going to be a long 3 years.

---

Jimin goes to great lengths to assimilate both unknowing gods to modern life on his planet. With the limited amount of time they have before Eunha graduates and goes to college, they spend most of their days reading up on the past 1000 years. Jimin makes suggestions on what they should read and things that are more important than others. However, his favorite topic to learn and teach about can’t be found in any book.

Social interactions are what Jimin enjoys the most. More than anything, Jimin wants to be out on the town and meeting new people. He wants to take in every human he meets and learn as much as he can about them in such a short amount of time. Their needs, wants, and thoughts are all so different and trivial, yet he can’t help himself by wanting to learn more. Jimin is more than happy to show his ways to his friends.

Taehyung is not as excited.

“Why are we here?” Taehyung asks, adjusting the unusually tight striped pants Jimin had forced him into. He’s thankful his friend was kind enough to give him a loose shirt and jacket, but he could really do without the fabric clinging to his skin.

“You’re going to learn how to interact with humans. Starting with not fixing yourself in public!” The pink haired casanova smacks Taehyung’s hand, not caring what he hits alongside it. Taehyung retracts back and Jimin sighs, “How did you ever manage to convince people you were a woman?”

“Because I already know how to interact with humans.”

“Not these humans.” The Earth deity slips his fingers under his suspenders, smoothing them out over his white button-down. He sticks his hands in the pockets of his red pants, “Humans have changed a lot since the last time you’ve been here, Taehyung. You may think you know about them, but you have no clue.”

“So why is Jeongguk here?” Taehyung points in the direction of the young deity behind them, still staring at the X’s on the back of his hand under the long sleeves of his red and black cardigan. A group of women pass in front of him, and both men watch as the young man’s eyes widen and he steps back.

Jimin slaps a hand against Taehyung’s back, “If you want Jeongguk to actually be able to help, then he needs to learn not to freeze every time a woman gets within 5 feet from him.” 

“Okay, I’ll give you that one,” Taehyung admits in defeat, “I just don’t see why you can’t tell us how.”

“Saying and doing are two very different things my friend.”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.” The two men turn around, knowing the sound of your voice all too well. Their eyes widen when they notice the outfit you chose. Tight fitted jeans with a dark green tank top tucked in and a black leather jacket, high heeled boots with a chunky heel, and short red hair in soft curls. Your outfit is much different from what you’re usually wearing, and your hair isn’t what they’d imagine you’d ever choose.

It didn’t take you long to find them, especially after Taehyung and Jeongguk’s first outing to meet up with Jimin. You had the smallest inkling of hope that Jimin would convince Taehyung his plan was pointless and not worth his time, but Jimin has never been anything but a brat when it comes to human lives and their emotions.

“Taehyung-“

“Nothing for me?” Jimin asks, sliding an arm over Taehyung’s shoulder, mirroring your current position with their third member.

You ignore the way he smiles at you, “Hi Jimin.”

“Hi, (Y/n)~” Jeongguk parrots.

You squeeze the bluenette’s shoulder and smile through your irritation, “Hello, Jeongguk…”

Taehyung smiles awkwardly, “What are you doing here?” 

“Are you really going to try this again? Did you learn nothing in the centuries you’ve had to think?” You ask.

“No?”

“Oh my word…” Your eyes shut tight in disdain. The amount of ridiculousness that you’ve already let the god get away with is almost too much for you to count on one hand, and he doesn’t make it any easier by not trying, “I’m serious about this Taehyung! Do you not remember last time?” Both Jimin and Jeongguk take this as their cue to back out, leaving only you and Taehyung.

“I do! But this time will be different.”

“How so?”

“It just will be! I know it!” His determination is unlike any other, and it’s almost admirable. But his determination isn’t enough to deal with the game he’s playing.

“Taehyung, I’ve seen every outcome. Please, don’t do this again! Not to them and especially not to yourself.” His smile drops and it brings you back to the last time you had seen him, lazing around the dark side of his planet. You knew he was hurting then and he wouldn’t accept your condolence, now you just want to help him before he makes the wrong choices. “Just give me the necklace and we can get this over with.”

He shakes his head, “You can’t destroy it.”

“What do you mean I can’t destroy it?”

“It can only be broken by them.” He explains, “Look, I’ve thought long and hard about this, okay? But now I have Jimin and Jeongguk to help me out!” He points to the two men on the dance floor where Jimin tries to teach Jeongguk how to roll his body, but the younger resembles a fish flopping in the water.

“They’re your backup plan?”

Taehyung chooses to ignore your distaste, “Look, I’m going to do this whether you tell me to leave them alone or not! Now, are you going to yell at me or are you going to help me?”

“I’m not going to help you, Taehyung.” Your intention was never to help Taehyung bring his experiment together - he’s crazy for even asking, “You can play your game with these humans, but now you’re messing with Life and Death.”

Taehyung’s shoulders tense at the mention of the all powerful beings, “What do you mean Life and Death?”

“Look, I came down here to warn you.” You know the game he’s playing, and the millions of outcomes he has to choose from don’t do anything to ease your worry. All you can do is let him make his decision and hope that your warnings are enough to persuade him, “Yoongi heard about what’s going on.” 

“What?”

“The whole council knows you’re down here and they - just like I am - are very pissed.”

Without thinking, Taehyung pulls you close and uses your body as a shield from the surrounding crowd. His nose rests just above your collarbone as he scans the crowd, “Yoongi’s not coming here, is he?”

“If you don’t destroy the necklace and return to your duties then he’s going to come down here and he’s going to bring Hoseok with him.” You explain, still trapped in his awkward embrace.

“Hoseok?!” 

“Yes, Hoseok!” You push the god off of you and straighten out your jacket, “You guys need to give up on this let it be.”

He shakes his head, “I can’t do that.”

“Taehyung-” 

“No!” He yells, catching the attention of a few people around you, “Why can’t they be happy together?! What is so wrong with that? Huh?! Why are you so adamant on keeping them apart?!”

You glance at the humans that watch you and Taehyung with caution, “There are aspects of my job that are much more complicated than you are ever going to understand, Taehyung. I’m sorry that things can’t work the way you want them to, but it is my job to see that everything within our home runs as it should.”

“Well, I can’t deal with that.” He’s come too far to just give up on everything. With Jimin and Jeongguk in his corner he could get this to work, but he won’t give in so easily, “I’m not giving up on them.”

“Then you’ll watch them fall.”

---

After their run-in with Fate a few years back, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jeongguk did their best to lay low. It wasn’t necessarily because they’re afraid of you - though there is some truth to that - but to be on Life and Death’s radar is to lay yourself out for a tiger. 

Of the Deities, there are 4 over-ruling monarchs of the universe - including the God of the universe himself. Just below him are the Pillars of Balance: Life, Death, and Fate. Like face cards in a deck, the 3 work together to keep the Universe in balance. 

Life: The White Knight of light. Seen among humans as a beacon of hope and balance. His creations are a work of necessity more than want. 

Death: The Black Knight of destruction. What Life gives, he takes. When there is too much, he creates little. The other half.

Fate: The All-Knowing. She sees all and is the ultimate peacekeeper between the deities. Nothing gets past her. With far more secrets than should be held on one person, she is the Knight of Secrets and Serenity.

With the threat of not just one, but all three coming after them, the need to continue on a low profile is more than necessary. They’re only saving grace is your inability to see their fate. 

Your All-Knowing power only coincides with living beings and the health of the universe itself, it does not extend to the deities that stem from the Universe. The only way you could know what they’re up to is if they interact with living beings. Of course, this meant no plants, no friends, and no pets, but they only have to push through until Eunha is old enough.

It was a long shot even hoping she’d get into her dream college and move to the city, but she did it just like Taehyung thought she would. She’s always been smart and determined, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to him at all - not the way it was to Jimin. Their next portion of the plan was securing a position at the museum.

“Do you have your resume?” Jimin asks.

“The paper thing?”

“Yes, the paper thing!” Jimin elbows Taehyung, “It’s the only way we’re getting through this thing without a hitch!” 

Taehyung pushes him back and rubs his side, “It’s right here, calm down.” He pulls out the folder with his resume, “I’m sure if I didn’t have it I’d be able to talk my way through it anyway.”

Both men make it to the bottom of the museum steps and start their ascent to the main doors. Both bicker and remind each other of their new identities and plans. Jimin is an aspiring dance major looking for an easy job at a museum gift shop, and Taehyung has a bachelor’s in history and is looking to take the position of a museum curator. All they had to do was use a little bit of their charm to get the jobs and they would be fine.

They go through the museum doors and stop to take a look around. To their right is a window to buy tickets with a few kiosks for self service. Ahead of them is a circular desk with a few employees and a busy staircase behind it. The big room slims down to two hallways on each side and what looks to be a third and fourth behind the staircase.

Jimin nods as he takes it all in, “This place is pretty big.”

“It’s gorgeous.” Taehyung sighs, enjoying the familiarity the building offers.

“Okay, so they said our interviews would be in the office past the cafeteria, so-” Jimin takes a moment to look at the signs before he points down the left hall, “-that way?”

Taehyung shrugs, “Looks right to me.”

Both men start towards the cafeteria when they notice an employee walking backwards towards them. Taehyung rushes both him and Jimin forward, narrowly missing the man before he turns around with his coffee in hand, “I am so sorry, sir! I didn’t see you behind me.”

“Not a problem at all.” Taehyung assures him before they continue on their way.

They find their way to the interview spot and check in with the employee running it. Both men feel absolutely confident that they’ll impress whoever is hiring. Even as other candidates enter and leave the room looking very confident, they’re 100% that no matter how many people interview they’ll still get the job.

The man running the interviews steps out of the office again, “Park Jimin, the director will see you now.” 

“Wish me luck!” Jimin hops up from his chair and adjusts his clothes before he walks into the interview room. He’s only in there for a total of 15 minutes before he walks back out. His expression reads calm, but Taehyung can feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. When he sits down next to Taehyung again, he taps his fingers against the arm of his chair. Without any explanation, he says, “Try not to cry.”

“Why would I cry?”

“Kim Taehyung. The Museum Director will see you now.” Jimin shrugs and sits back in his seat, not answering Taehyung’s question.

Despite the nerves that now want to hold him back, the blue haired god walks into his interview. He may have been expecting you to be behind the desk, but he definitely wasn’t expecting Mr. Life himself.

“Yoongi...” The honey blonde of his hair is much different from the natural dark locks he’s used to seeing from him, and the suit he wears isn’t anything close to the soft silk robes the grumpy deity usually wears.

“Sit down, Taehyung.” Taehyung wearily takes the seat across from him, eyeing the higher deity as the blonde stares at him, “Do you have your resume?”

“Right here.” Taehyung placed his folder on the desk and awkwardly slid it across the desk.

Yoongi picks up the folder and opens it in front of his face. Taehyung can’t see him, but he can hear the sigh, “I see a lack of coffee stains, I’m disappointed.” 

“Coffee stains?” Taehyung asks. 

He stands a little to try and peek above the folder, but he pops back down in his seat as soon as Yoongi sets the folder back down, “If you would have spilled the human’s coffee over yourself then I was supposed to turn you away, but I cannot.” Yoongi closes the folder and stamps it with an ‘approved’ stamp before doing the same to another folder that matches his. He pushes them both off to the side before he turns back to the man still terrified before him, “I can - however - ask you what the hell you think you’re doing?”

“Um...participating in the society humans have created for themselves?” The god tries to give his most award winning smile, but Yoongi’s blank stare is showing no sign of remorse, “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d buy that either.”

Yoongi tongues the side of his cheek, obviously holding back his anger. He leans forward and places his arms on the desk with his fingers intertwined, “I don’t think I have to tell you that I don’t approve of what you’re planning to do, right?”

“No.”

“Good, because I don’t want to talk to a dead horse.”

“A dead horse…?”

“Don’t worry about it. My point is I don’t want to go over this with you again.” The blonde deity stands from his chair and walks over to the side of his room where a window sits, “I already hear enough complaining from Fate, I don’t want to deal with your antics myself.”

Taehyung tilts his head in confusion, “Then why hire me?”

“It’s not up to me. It’s up to Fate.” Taehyung practically rolls his eyes when Yoongi says this, but the deity doesn’t pay him any mind. “You start Monday. You’ll meet with the Owner of the Museum and they will talk to you about the exhibits you’ll be in charge of.” Taehyung stands up but Yoongi flashes in front of him, “Do not bother me. Do not mess up my museum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Didn’t you just say-”

“Do I make myself clear?” Yoongi repeats.

Taehyung nods, “Yes sir.”

“Go on.” Yoongi waves him away and returns to his desk, not paying any mind to the god as he leaves.

As soon as Taehyung steps out of the interview, Jimin is in front of him looking for answers, “Did he hire you?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I guess we both got the job.” The orange haired man throws his arm over his friend’s shoulder and leads him away from the office, but Taehyung can only stare ahead blankly as they walk.

“This was not a part of the plan.”

“No, but we did accomplish part of the plan. Now we just have to complete the rest of it.” Jimin takes notice of Taehyung’s unusually grim face and stops walking, “What’s that face for?”

Taehyung furrows his brow in confusion, “What face?”

“That face!” Jimin argues. He cups Taehyung's face, “Don’t tell me you’re backing out.”

“I’m not.”

“You look like you are!” Jimin pats the sides of his face rapidly, “We’ve come too far for you to back out now.”

The blue haired man pushes Jimin away, “I won’t back out! I’m just worried.” His whole plan was centered around sneaking around and not getting caught.  But with one of the Pillars of Balance on Earth keeping track of him, it’s only a matter of time before the other two join him. “Yoongi is here. On Earth. If he’s here then he brought Hoseok with him.”

“So they’re meddling too? Big deal. We can handle them.” Taehyung gives Jimin a look and he shrugs, “Okay, so we can work around them. The point is we have this.”

They did not have this.

Unlike the elder deities, Jeongguk wouldn’t be a part of the plan until much later. For now, he’d exist as a high schooler until Eunha secures a job at the museum. This left most of the plan up to Jimin and Taehyung to prepare for her arrival. 

The plan was honestly very simple:

Get a job at the museum

Have Namjoon’s tomb opened

Bring Namjoon to the museum

Have Eunha touch the necklace

Namjoon comes back to life

They fall in love

The end

It’s a win-win situation for everyone.

However, Taehyung didn’t expect the worst bump in the road.

His first day meeting with the Museum owner, Taehyung had his whole speech planned. He would convince him that King Kim Namjoon was worth the money. He was going to express how significant his story is and how beneficial it will be to his museum. A story of love and compassion would warm the hearts of everyone from around the world, and they could have that in this very museum.

But beyond the door at the large desk mulling over papers was no old man wearing a cheesy tie. It was you, wearing a nice button down and a skirt. A blazer rests on the back of your chair and the papers on your desk make it look like a tornado had gone through. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, this was the biggest hole in his plan.

“Oh, you’re here. Good. I’ve been waiting for you. Please, have a seat.” You flash him a smile and point to the chair in front of you. Taehyung is very hesitant, but he takes the seat across from you anyway as you dig through a stack of folders to your right. You pull out three folders and set them on the desk between the two of you, “Alright, now, we have a few exhibit’s open for you to take over from the last curator that worked here. You can change it however you like, but I will need prior notice before I can take a look at our budget.”

You turn back to your computer to take a look at the current funds available, but Taehyung isn’t ready to move forward yet, “What is happening here?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. Of course you know what he’s talking about, but you’ve given up on entertaining Taehyung this time around.

“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” He asks.

You gesture to the computer in front of you, “Because I have a job to do?”

“Okay, but what about your real job?”

“Taehyung, I am perfectly capable of doing my day job and this job.” You hold out your palms for him to see the cosmos laid out on your palms with the strings that hang off of your fingers.

Taehyung nods and you put them away to return to your ‘day job’, “And...you’re okay with this?”

You sigh, “At this point, I can only wait for the strings to fall into place. My biggest concern is keeping you from doing something you shouldn’t be.” You click the print icon at the top of your screen and turn around to your printer to collect the forms, “I also need to make sure Jimin is behaving. He still hasn’t been forgiven by the council.”

Taehyung nods in understanding, “So, you’re just going to leave me be as long as I don’t do anything dangerous?”

“That is the plan.”

“So, if I were to want Namjoon to be brought here as an exhibit?”

“I would put in your request.” You turn back around to the god in front of you and slide the New Exhibit forms he’d be needing, “My job is Fate, Taehyung, but I have no control over how the strings align. My job is to watch them converge and keep them from being tampered with. My main concern is containing the balance of the universe.”

“So you will?”

“If that’s what you would like to do then I’ll need a formal request.” You pick up the folders on your desk and hand them over, “Look over your other exhibits as well.”

You turn back to your computer and Taehyung watches you. He sits there for a minute before he speaks up, “Is this it…?” 

“That’s it.” You nod. Taehyung stands up to leave and you chime in again, “I have a meeting with the head of security, you can just leave the door open.”

“Sure thing.” Taehyung opens the door and walks out, leaving the door open just as you had asked. The whole situation felt weird for him, and part of him thinks you’re definitely lying to him.

Taehyung doesn’t even notice he’s stopped in the middle of the walkway until someone is trying to move around him, “Excuse me.”

Taehyung immediately looks up at the familiar voice, “Hoseok?” The brunette is wearing more modern, human clothes just like the other two. His hair is swept back and he has a large binder tucked under one arm with a coffee in his hand, “Hi.”

The higher deity waves as much as he can with full hands, “Hey, sorry, I’d love to chat but I have a meeting.”

Taehyung nods, but does a double take as soon as it hits him, “Wait, are you the head of security?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?” The brunettes smile is teasing, but there’s just a small lilt in the tone that has the hairs on the back of Taehyung’s neck standing up.

“No! Not at all.” He bows to the higher deity and waves, “Good to see you…”

It’s later at Jimin’s apartment with a can of beer in his hand that taehyung let’s his walls break, “We are so fucked.”

“We’re not fucked.” Jimin assures him, drinking from his own can.

“We are!”

“Question!” The two turn to Jeongguk who sits on the floor holding a pillow to his chest, “What does fuck mean?” Neither of the two make any move to answer him, and Jeongguk pulls the pillow closer to him, “Nevermind...”

Taehyung leans forward in his seat and rests his head in his hands, “Our plan keeps changing.”

“For the better!” Jimin throws an arm over Taehyung’s shoulder and pats his arm,“You have to trust the process, Taehyung.”

“The process didn’t include Yoongi, Hoseok, and (Y/n)!”

“It has always included them.” Jimin cups Taehyung’s cheek and turns his face so that he’s looking at him, “I know you’re not keen on the other deities, Taehyung, I get it. But don’t be naive. We can use this to our advantage.”

He was right, of course. After eons of council meetings and watching the 3 Pillars deal with Earth on their own, both Taehyung and Jimin have picked up on certain habits that each one is more comfortable with. Fate is easier to avoid - not in a way where she won’t come after them, but as long as they stay out of trouble then you’ll leave them be. Yoongi doesn’t involve any coaxing at all. He’ll definitely keep an eye on them, but he’s more of a silent watcher. Their biggest threat is Hoseok.

Though he is nice and surprisingly very down to Earth, Hoseok is not someone anyone can hide from. Within two days of first seeing him after the interview, Hoseok was already passing them on the streets at night and in the aisle at the grocery store. The brunette deity made sure they knew he wasn’t going away as easily as (Y/n) and Yoongi would. If he saw they were doing something he didn’t like, then he’d make it known. It wasn’t easy to stay off of his radar, but they did somehow manage to do it.

And that set them up for the beginning of their whole plan.

It’s early in the afternoon and Taehyung is talking to the archeologist who “discovered” Namjoon’s tomb. Truly, Taehyung had already opened the tomb himself, but no one needed to know that. What was important was that he impress the man enough for him to send Namjoon and all of his artifacts - including the necklace he snuck back into the crypt - to his exhibit.

“I truly believe that we can give King Namjoon a final resting place here with his tomb deteriorating at such a fast pace. I wouldn’t want to see anything damaged, especially the King’s notes on his experience with the Moon Goddess.”

“Ah, yes, the Moon Goddess~” The old man muses, “The old king was quite detailed in his recounts of her. The king dedicates almost a third of his journal to her.”

Taehyung smiles. Leave it to Namjoon to write a novel and dedicate it to him, “That’s very kind of him.” 

“Indeed it was.” The older man stops and turns to the young curator, “You know, it has been very wonderful speaking with you today, Mr. Kim. I’ll talk with my colleagues, but I do hope to see you again.”

“Thank you. I hope to see you again as well.” Taehyung shakes the older gentleman’s hand, “Please have a safe trip home.”

The old man gives him a nod back and turns to leave. It’s just as he’s passing the information desk that Taehyung sees the young woman standing at the entrance - just as he had done with Jimin - looking around the large room in awe. He didn’t have to guess who she was, he just knew. 

Eunha finally made it.

Taehyung takes long strides across the building's main floor to greet her, “Hi! Can I help you?”

The young soulmate offers him a relieved smile, “Yes. I’m here to apply for a security position.”

“Yes! Let me take you there.” Taehyung gestures for her to follow him. He turns in the direction of the cafeteria and then stops in his tracks before Seokjin runs into him. IN a flash he holds out his arm to stop Eunha before the blonde haired man can bump into her with his coffee, “Sorry about that, Seokjin’s coffee time is the most dangerous time of the day.”

Taehyung gives him a playful glare and the blonde just shrugs, “Okay, so maybe now I’ll start leaving it on my desk.”

Eunha chuckles to herself, and Taehyung feels his heart flutter. He hadn’t heard her laugh in so long, he forgot that he missed hearing it. He gestures for her to continue following him, and he leads her to Hoseok’s office where the brunette is collecting the mail from the box next to his door.

“Hoseok!-” The head of security jumps, turning around to see the other two. Taehyung tries not to laugh, “I have your interviewee for the security position.”

A light seems to go off in Hoseok’s head as the name rings a bell with him, “Ah! Choi Eunha, right?” Eunha nods and Hoseok offers her a hand, “Jung Hoseok. Please step into my office.”

“Good luck!” Eunha nods and thanks Taehyung for his help, the god waving back to her. He watches her enter the office and meets the eyes of Hoseok as he closes the door. He can tell the higher deity wants nothing more than for him to leave, but Taehyung isn’t as willing.

He waits across the hall in the employee lounge for about 20 minutes or so, anxiously eating a bag of chips he stole out of Jimin’s locker. He waits for the shadows to pass by the door before he attempts to peek his head out. Down the hall, he can see Eunha’s figure walking away towards the main room, a light bounce in her step. She looks excited, and Taehyung takes that as a good sign.

“Waiting for someone?”

“Hoseok!” Taehyung jumps, hitting his side against the doorknob. The god stumbles out of the doorway and turns himself around so he faces the higher deity. He leans one arm on the wall while the other wraps over his abdomen to cradle his side, his feet crossed over the other to appear ‘casual’. “Hey! Hi. How are you? Good interview?”

Hoseok chuckles, eyeing the god on another one of his shenanigans, “She got the job, Taehyung.”

“Yes!” Taehyung’s fist pumps the air, running in place in excitement.

Hoseok shakes his head, “I don’t know how you knew about Seokjin, but I guess I have to let you off the hook.”

Taehyung grabs Hoseok by the shoulders and pulls him into a tight hug, “Thank you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok awkwardly pats Taehyung’s back, “This wasn’t me. This was all up to Fate. (Y/n) just told me what sign to look for.”

The Moon God rolls his eyes and pulls back, “If you’re telling me to thank her, I won’t.”

“I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m just telling you not to praise me for work I didn’t do.” Hoseok reiterates, “I just hope you can take whatever Fate throws at you.”

“Trust me. I can.”

*

*

*

Both Jimin and Taehyung made it their jobs to become Eunha’s friends as soon as she began working. They spent the first few years of her on the day shift security getting to know her and bringing her into their lives before they actually began to incorporate their plan.

If Taehyung were to ask anyone at the museum how to describe him, it would be a total fanboy. There isn’t a day that goes by that he doesn’t mention Namjoon. Every conversation he has with anyone he tries to slip in one detail about his journey to obtain his dead king. Every small miniscule detail he gives is a segway to tell everything to Eunha.

He knows no one wants to hear him when he hops on his soapbox, but it’s what he has to do. Every move he makes is for the sake of Namjoon and Eunha to find the happiness he promised them. If he has to annoy every human he meets with his excitement, then so be it.

The day you told him his project was approved, was a day he won’t forget.

---

Taehyung knocks on the door to your office, “You wanted to see me?”

You look up from your paperwork, “Yes, please, have a seat.” You start to clear your desk and Taehyung takes the seat in front of you. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Taehyung thinks back to everything he’s done in the past week. He’s made a lot of decisions that could be considered questionable - a few that Jimin won’t even acknowledge, “Is this about the children’s exhibit? Because if it is, that was all Jeongguk’s fault, not mine.”

“No. I already know about that and I’ve chosen to ignore it as has Yoongi.” From somewhere in your overwhelming stack of papers, you pull out a blue folder and place it in front of the blonde, “This is about Namjoon.”

He takes a long look at your blank expression and the folder in front of him and bows his head, “They didn’t accept our offer...” He had thought he’d done everything he possibly could to convince the old man that his museum was the best museum. No other museum could compare! Only his would take the upmost care of Namjoon, but it he didn’t bite.

Taehyung sits up, “Can we at least talk about a temporary exhibit? Surely if we explain the situation to them, then they’ll let us have him for at least a month!”

“Taehyung….Do you really think that would be enough time? The results wouldn’t possibly change in that time.” You’re right, of course. Even if he tries to deny it, you’re always right, “What would you even tell them?”

Taehyung doesn’t even think, “That having this exhibit at our museum would be the most important decision of their lives.”

You shake your head, “No one would think that’s reason enough Taehyung.” 

Taehyung can’t help but wonder why that’s always the answer anyone can ever give him. How could no one else understand the importance of love? No one seems to understand Eunha and Namjoon like he does, and this is just another wrench in his plan. How would he ever bring them together now?

“So-” You open the blue folder that sits between the two of you to reveal the form he had submitted months ago with an “approved” stamped at the bottom, “I guess it’s only for the best that they accepted our offer.”

“Are you serious?” Taehyung asks. You nod, but Taehyung still grabs the folder off the desk to see for himself. After years of begging and endless praise and admiratio towards the dead human king, Taehyung had finally gotten eactly what he wanted. His plan was actually falling into place in front of his very own eyes. “And him and Eunha?”

“Their fate is out of my hands, Taehyung.” You had hope he wouldn’t ask. The closer the two humans come together, the more complicated their fate becomes. Every step is another twist around the other string, another pin for you to deal with. You sigh, “Two converged strings brought together before their time won’t act the same way two strings slowly inching together will. Ties have been cut and burned and there's no telling how Fate will twist them even further.” 

The blonde’s brow furrows in confusion, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“For all I know, their strings could knot together and the connection could never go any further.” It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen it happen. When Jimin had separated the humans from their soulmates, you’d come across many burned and knotted strings. Some were so stuck, there was no way for you to unravel them without creating a rift like the one Taehyung has made. “They would be stuck.”

“Would you be able to fix it?” He asks.

You shake your head, “Probably not in the way you want me to.”

Taehyung groans and slams his palm down against the top of your desk, startling you, “Why is Fate against them?!”

“If I knew the answer Taehyung, I would tell you.” It makes you sad to see him like this. With his own string caught in the middle of the two lovers, he’s only making himself miserable at every turn and every inconvenience. And with the outcomes that have made themselves known to you, there are countless terrible endings for the lovers. It’s like the two are world’s apart, with Taehyung hopping back and forth through hoop after hoop just to make them happy.

Without a second thought, you lean over your desk to place a hand over his, “We have the king. Accept that for now and worry about whatever plan you’ve concocted for when he gets here.”

---

Taehyung is pulled out of his memory when he sees two of the movers struggling to carry the sarcophagus he’d buried Namjoon in all those years ago, “Careful with him! I don’t want him damaged.”

“He’s fine, Taehyung.” Yoongi assures him, patting the lower god on the back, “That’s kinda why he has a box.”

Taehyung shakes his head in disapproval. He’s not surprised someone as bitter as Life doesn’t get it, “Okay, but the box is an important part of his history! It all has to be perfect.”

“Is his jewelry here yet?” The grumpy deity asks.

“You mean his lover’s necklace?” Yoongi nods, “No, they haven’t sent it yet.”

Hoseok pipes up from the loading doors, “That’s scheduled for next week, Eunha will be here for that one.” 

“Eunha?” Taehyung asks. Hoseok nods and Taehyung smiles, the perfect plan forming in his mind, “Perfect.”

Hoseok warily eyes the smug expression on Taehyung’s face and chooses to ignore it, “Yeah...anyways, the necklace and a few more items will be here next week as well. That shipment won’t be as large.”

“What day is that again?”

“Tuesday.”

Yoongi groans, “A full moon…” 

“What’s so bad about a full moon.” Johnny asks, unaware of the dilemma happening between the 3 deities. 

“Things happen when the moon is full and I don't like it.” Yoongi says it so nonchalantly, but his glare directed at Taehyung shows how he truly feels. The Moon God is most powerful on the full Moon, and that can only spell trouble for everyone else. He sighs, “I guess I don’t have a choice, so I’ll be there.”

“Good, cause you’re my ride.” Hoseok reminds him.

“Of course I am.” Life sighs, “Just get to work in grabbing the things we have now so we can get the exhibit together for this Friday.”

The movers get to work on taking the lighter items, but Taehyung protests their movement, “But the main attraction isn’t here.”

Yoongi grabs the curator by the shoulders and turns him around, “The main attraction is the dead guy. Now get moving.” 

Everyone but Taehyung continues to get back to work. The blonde takes his one chance to approach his long lost friend and gently place his hand on the top, “Don’t worry, my friend. I won’t let you down this time.”

---

The night that Taehyung intends to invoke his plan, he’s sitting in Namjoon’s exhibit on the bench in front of his sarcophagus. Every night since his arrival he’s done this, enjoying the comfort of being close to his friend. Even if the king can’t talk back, it feels familiar to be with him. Besides, Eunha will have to come and kick him out before she locks up the exhibit for the night. The perfect ruse to tell her more about her beloved soulmate.

But if Taehyung were to be honest with himself, he couldn’t be more nervous than he is right now. So many things could go wrong, and there was no telling if what he was planning to do would actually help Namjoon and Eunha. If he messed this up - if he makes everything worse - then there’s no telling what will happen to the two. 

Behind him, Taehyung hears the clicking of heels against the floor of the exhibit. It’s definitely not Eunha - her shoes don’t make that sound - he only knows one person who wears heels and likes to sneak up on him, “Please tell me you’re not here to scold me again.”

“It won’t do me any good to scold you if you’re not going to listen.” You sit down next to him and rest your laptop case on the bench next to you, taking in the view of the exhibit in front of you. The king’s sarcophagus is lit by two spotlights hanging from the ceiling on either side, the jewels on the top glittering under the light.

Next to you, the blonde man sighs. He’s been acting weird all day and it’s been putting everyone on edge, “You’re worried. Is it about the necklace?” 

“Do you know enough to answer my questions?” He asks.

“I do.”

“Will he wake up?”

“Yes.”

“And will she love him?” You hesitate, giving Taehyung the answer he was already worried about, “She’s not going to love him...”

You sigh, “She doesn’t remember him Taehyung.”

“He didn’t even meet her and he loved her!” He argues, standing from the bench.

“And that’s not my problem!” Taehyung never fails to forget that you can’t actually control Fate, you can only look over it and see the outcomes, “I can’t control how they love.”

“They’re soulmates, are they not?” He asks, “Tied together by Fate? Your strings?!”

You hold up a hand, “I only hold the cards, Taehyung. I play them when they’re needed.” 

“That’s what you always say...” Taehyung mutters to himself, sitting back down on the bench and leaving a space in between.

You sigh, “It’s not like I don’t want them to be happy, Taehyung, but I have a job to do.”

“Your job should prioritize their happiness.”

“There are 7 trillion humans just like them, Taehyung. They can’t all be happy.” Taehyung doesn’t say anything in response and you take another deep breath to calm yourself. From down the hall, you can hear muted footsteps coming closer. With it being so close to closing time, there’s only so many people it can be. You stand and adjust your laptop case on your shoulder, “She’s coming. I’ll leave you here.”

Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell, and you take that as your chance to slip away. As you walk past the cases parallel to the door, you see Eunha walking in to close up for the night. You see the face she makes when she sees Taehyung and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Have a good night, ma’am.” She says with a genuine smile.

You nod, “You too.”

Hopefully, of all the scenarios that could happen tonight before the morning, they all choose the best one.

~ Read Part 4 ~

#fae fic #sope and shine #sope-and-shine #when world's collide #written in the stars #the right of a king #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #x reader #v x reader #bts x reader #bts v #bts v x reader #y/n #reader insert #member x reader #fluff #angst #humor #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #e2l #enemies to lovers au #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #bts fic #kim namjoon x oc #kim namjoon #kim seokjin

[serararku]

Where the Wild Things Are Pt 3

<Theme>

The pool beneath Valhaas Barrow came from a subterranean river said to stretch all the way from the Black Shroud. The source of nearly every oasis in Thanalan, it remained the sole reason why the Miqo'te and various beast tribes could even survive in the dust-swept wastes. This water was as precious as it was sacred, reserved only for those closest resembling the divine image of Azeyma. The punishment for any Tia, slave, or outsider in this holy place was death.

The walls were painted by the many hands of women who came before. Some told tales of legendary heroes, others of harrowing tragedies; but the space along the ground was reserved for the kittens, who doodled rough paintings of flowers, or the sun, or even each other. Era wanted to place her mark in this place too one day, but she wanted to make it count- she wanted it to mean something.

“Well?” Her mother asked, catching her attention. She stood with two aunts, and all three stared at the woman expectantly. “We can’t get you clean if you’re not naked.”

Era was hesitant, but begrudgingly obeyed, starting with her boots before working her way up. When she first left her family to search for Tage, she had only a few scrapes on her hands from pulling feisty rodents from their tunnels and homes; but the more skin she revealed now, the paler her mother became. Era had her shirt halfway over her head when she was swarmed by her and her aunts.

“Were you stabbed?! Beaten?!” Yuun traced a few scars on Era’s stomach with her finger. “Gunshot wounds… did the shelled men do this?”

Era was barely able to get a word out when their hands began poking and prodding at all of her past injuries; something about this made her feel more vulnerable and ashamed now more than ever. “Y-yes, the Garleans-”

“What happened to your arm?!” Her mother grabbed her by the elbow and held her forearm close to her face. “Is this a burn?! How did this happen?!”

“Mom, please!” Era yanked her arm back and slinked away from their incessant touching. “It’s a long story… all of it is…” Telling them about how ‘Had-rel’ commanded her to stick her hand into a crackling fireplace was the last thing on her mind. Or the time she was shot during her ambush against that Garlean century. Or the time she got smacked in the side of the head and lost consciousness for a minute. Or all the times she was beaten during her many training lessons.

She aptly decided to change the subject before they continued to pelt her with questions.

“Do I have to do this? I don’t… I don’t want to mate with him, mom…”

Her mother’s face was still flushed with worry, but a reassuring smile began to creep along the corners of her lips. “Leave us.” She commanded, sending the grumbling women back upstairs to give them the space they needed. Era flinched and looked away when she casually pulled off her clothes; she knew she would have to be naked, but she wasn’t expecting her mother to do the same. Her skin was like polished porcelain, with her rich brown hair ending in small curls that almost reached to her knees once she let it all down. Even after giving birth seven times, her body remained a work of art. It was hard not to stare, harder still not to be envious; Era could only hope to have half a body like her mothers in twenty years. “We used to bathe all the time naked together, dear. Why are you so nervous now? All that time in those tribeless cities has affected you.” She reached over and gently took her daughter by the hand. “Come come, into the water while it’s still warm.”

Getting washed by her mother made her feel like a kitten all over again- a recurring theme since returning to her home. The water was warmed by dropping smoldering rocks heated by the bonfire into the depths, but the pool itself was surprisingly shallow- barely reaching over her hips while sitting down. Era definitely remembered being able to float in this exact pool when she was just a little younger. Did she really grow so fast? Or has the pool been shrinking since she departed? 

Her mother started with her hair, massaging raw honey into her scalp until it ran down her chest, shoulders, and back. “You need to grow out your hair. Keeping it short is cute... but there isn’t a Nunh alive that wouldn’t kill to gaze upon your body with hair that reaches the floor.”

“Mmmn…” Was all Era could mumble in between licking at the honey dripping too close to her mouth; the little bit of boar she ate from her mother’s helping wasn’t nearly enough.

“Era…?” Her mother started, causing her ears to perk. “You have been mating in the cities?” She did her best to conceal her startled shock, but her flattening ears and her tail thrashing about in the water beside her mother gave away the truth. Era’s mind frantically raced as she tried to conjure up a convincing lie, but her sudden silence only further proved her guilt.

“W-what are you t-talking about…?”

“I know bite marks when I see them.” She gave her daughter’s shoulder a few sharp pinches. “These ones look recent… very recent. You were supposed to save your first time for your Nunh.”

“W-well, I… I figured… w-why not practice…? F-for when I’m with my Nunh, I mean…” Era didn’t dare turn to look her mother in the eyes; the heat searing her face, neck, and now shoulders, was enough to boil this water. “That makes sense… r-right…?”

“A man has patience for a maiden.” She started, with the tone of her voice darkening. “Don’t tell Vahli about your ‘practice’, I don’t know how he will react.” Her mother paused to gather her hair in her hands to expose Era’s shoulders and back. She then plucked a lump of cactuar flesh out of the water to rub against her skin; with luck, the rejuvenating flesh would help conceal her more recent love marks. “What is his name?”

“Zevi…” For some reason she decided against revealing his tribe, not that it mattered; he cut all ties with them long ago.

“A Tia from the tribeless cities.” Yuun mused, working down one of Era’s arms. “He must be quite something for you to abandon your duties to the tribe. What is he like? Is he handsome? Strong?”

Era bit her lip for a moment in silence, but the silence did only last for a moment. “Brown skin burned by the sun. Black hair like raven feathers… and looking into his eyes is like staring up at the bright blue sky. Is he handsome…? Mom, he’s gorgeous…” She blinked a few times before clearing her throat. “And um… he’s strong enough to punch a deeproot tree out of the ground with a single punch. He was with me when I stormed that castrum to avenge Tage’s dea-...” Mentioning his name again put a dull ache in her heart; she thought she was over his death, but being here… where her journey all began… and it almost felt like she was right back in her apartment, staring at his ruined corpse all over again.

“I’m so sorry, honey…” Her mother leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her. “I know you wanted him. But he is with Azeyma now… hunting in Her endless fields of eternal sunlight.”

Era leaned into her mother’s embrace and closed her eyes. “Mom… I… I don’t want to lose Zevi. But if I defy the Nunh… I’ll lose my family…” Slowly she turned to look her mother in the eyes. “What do I do…?”

She planted a wet kiss on Era’s temple before sitting upright to continue scrubbing her daughter’s skin. “When your father became the tribe’s Nunh, he had to kill my father to do it. I was… I was so angry that this overgrown brute murdered my father and expected me to have his children in return… like I should be thanking him for taking my father away from me. I planned on killing him before it was my turn to pleasure him, you know. I almost went through with it.”

“What stopped you…?”

“My mother did. Killing him wouldn’t bring my father back… and it would only put the entire tribe in terrible danger. Any Tia could walk in and claim us as their wives without having to fight for it. No… instead of that, my mother suggested a better way. I learned Rarku’s secrets, memorized what made him tick, and discovered his deepest desires. I did my duty as his wife, and eventually had him eating out of the palm of my hand. Men are simple creatures… and easy to please. I guess what I’m saying is…”

“To do my duty and stop complaining?” Era groaned. “I don’t know if that’s something I wa-ow! Ow ow ow!” Yuun gave her daughter a warm smile as she continued to pinch and twist her ear.

“Let me finish.” She firmly spoke, eventually releasing her. “You can’t have your family and your forbidden love if you don’t have his favor. Do what us wives do best, dear… turn your will into law.” She took Era by the chin and turned her head toward her. “If you’re successful, you may even be able to convince him to let you visit the tribeless cities every few years or so.”

They remained quiet for the rest of the bath. Yuun washed the honey from Era’s hair thrice over, until her locks shimmered in the flickering torchlight. She ran a bison-hair comb through the fur on her tail until it glided effortlessly from base to tip, and lastly she scrubbed Era’s face with hardened animal fat and spearmint leaves. As soon as her mother rinsed her face, she shot up to her feet in a hurry. "What-?! Where do you think you are going without your clothes?!"

"There’s only two things I can do that shouldn’t be done with clothes on." Era called back, turning to look down at her mother. “If I want Vahli to do what I want… I need to leave an impression. Goodbye, mother, and thank you for the bath.” Without another word she spun on her heel and began marching to the exit, foregoing her clothes and leaving her mother and her dignity behind.

Walking among tribekin topless or wearing little more than war paint and boots wasn’t an uncommon sight for this sect. The concept of modesty was a little more ambiguous around here, with many kittens running around butt-naked during the summer migrations. But for a fully grown woman strutting her stuff and soaked from bathing in the blessed waters was, well, just strange enough to garner attention. 

Era held her breath and stepped beyond the curtain dividing the sacred pools from the rest of Valhaas Barrow. The searing heat returned to her face and shoulders the moment she saw familiar faces down the hall, but it was too late to turn back now; she was in deep, and if her confidence wavered now, she wouldn’t be capable of seducing Vahli, and her chance of keeping both her tribe and Zevi in her life would blow up in her face. “If I refuse Vahli, and return to Ul’dah, I would never see my mother and family again. If I fail to impress Vahli, I wouldn’t be able to be with Zevi.” Era had to focus on organizing her thoughts to distract her from the gawking stares. Most of the slaves averted their gazes when she strode into view, while many of the warrior women nodding approvingly. “I need to blow his mind to keep both my tribe and my love. Gods… I hope he’s not worrying about me…” She caught a glimpse of Denoh sitting alone in the corner with his boar scraps in his grasp, but she looked away before their eyes met. Despite the audible gasps or faint whispers, Era found herself handling this situation quite well; at the very least, nobody was trying to stop her, or call her out by her name-

“Yeah-hahah! Errraaaa!” Chaje Koss hollered and shouted when she briskly marched by, holding a half-empty skin; with three empty skins littered around her staggering feet. She was as sloppy drunk as you could get on fermented goat’s milk without also getting food poisoning. “Go get you some! Hahaha- yeeeeaaaahhhh!” Soon others joined in, giving the ‘champion of Azeyma’ a round of applause. Era wanted to wither away and die, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at her aunt’s slurred encouragement. She awkwardly waved at them before reaching the bottom of the incline, and the spiraling tunnel that led to her destination.

Era stormed into his personal chambers by nearly ripping the leather curtain from the ceiling. Vahli was hunched over the stone table with Auntie Shepka, the Lady of War, at his shoulder when they both looked up at the same time to witness her and all her splendor. She stood there in silence as she caught her breath, letting her Nunh’s gaze follow the beads of water trickle down her shapely form. Era could feel his eyes on the bullet scars dotted on her stomach, the discoloration from the old burn halfway up her forearm, and the deep scratches covering her fingers. Judging by his ears flattening against his head and his thick tail twitching under the table, he clearly liked what he saw. Yet she couldn’t tell if he was speechless or not; he wasn’t exactly a chatterbox when they first met out by the bonfire. 

Fortunately Shepka was willing to break the awkward silence. “Ahem… you should tend to this…” She reached over and rolled the leather up before tucking it under her arm. “We’ll discuss our plans later when you have more time.” Vahli still didn’t speak- he simply nodded in her direction, but his gaze never left Era. In fact they kept their staring contest going as Shepka walked past her on her way to leave, and the naked woman didn’t blink until the two were alone at last.

Vahli pushed off the table and stood up straight. His pointed ears were only a fulm and a quarter away from brushing against the ceiling. “Your scars… you’ve seen many battles…?” Era caught on to the tone of his voice almost immediately; he was distracted… surprised… nervous. She could use this. It felt like that time she seduced that Lalafell in the Gold Saucer, but she knew he wasn't lonely enough for her to come on that strong. She closed her eyes, took a few deep and steady breaths, and relaxed; the rest came naturally.

“I didn’t come all this way to talk.” Era stepped back and reached behind her to make sure the curtain was fully closed. A shy smile spread across her face once she began walking along the wall, plucking each torch up and blowing them out like candles; one by one she dimmed the room, until only a single torch resting on the table beside Vahli remained.

Era emerged from the dark, her blue eyes reflecting the only light source left in this chamber. There were no chocobo down beds, and no cotton pillows or wool blankets for them to rest on; only the loose dirt floor and the hard stone table. "I will return to you…" She reached up and grabbed her Nunh by the bone necklace, and pulled him down into her awaiting kiss.

"Whatever the price… I'll pay it!"

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​

[socialwriter]

Ch.4- The Duke

Listen alongside: This and this

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

TW: Prostitution, smexy times with Rafe, cursing probably, sad boi JJ

1.8K+ words

A/n: okok so this is the chapter that kind of introduces Rafe and the love triangle present in the rest of the series. I was inspired by @ptersparkers​ and @storiesbymads​ Study Sessions series to try and make the section with Rafe a lil smexy, but I am not v good at smexy writing (clearly) so I highly recommend checking out their series! Also, thanks to @anonymous0writer​ for brainstorming some stuff with me, love you bubs <3

 Before the two of you get much further though, the door to your dressing room swings open, revealing Topper. “Y/n, what the hell is going on here? Who is this?” You pull back from the kiss, pushing JJ away and look at your enraged boss, gulping. This could not be good. 

 “T-topper, I can exp-”

“No! There I was in the main lounge, proud of you for doing what was needed to save this place. So, you can imagine my shock when I saw Rafe Cameron, seated at a booth, ALONE. When I asked he said that not a single girl had approached him all night much less you. Luckily, I’m quick on my feet and told him you were probably getting ready in your dressing room for him and that he should stop by in a couple of minutes, giving me time to check in on you and separate you from this..this hooligan.” Topper finished off, pointing an enraged finger in JJ’s direction.

JJ, ever the smart ass, held his hand out for Topper to shake, and with a shit-eating grin said, “JJ Maybank, resident hooligan, how can I be of service to you today?” You swat JJ’s hand down, sending Topper a nervous grin before the door to your dressing room abruptly opens, revealing who you assumed to be the real Rafe Cameron..along with Pope and John B. Well that was unexpected. “I’m sorry Mr.Thornton, I don’t have time for all these shenanigans, when the woman that you’ve promised me for the night is already here with another man.”

Your eyes widen at Rafe’s words. Since he was here, it looked like it was time to put your emotions aside and get to work. “No no Mr.Cameron, you must be mistaken,” you assert, approaching the duke, “Mr.Maybank is simply here for business endeavors so that your time with me is more..pleasurable.” You tell Rafe, whispering the last weird into his ear to entice him. The sight of it makes JJ’s blood boil, but he figures he had already gotten you in enough trouble, and he didn’t know Rafe or Topper well enough to know what’d they do if he put up a fight about what was happening. Rafe simply raises a brow, placing a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer. “And what business endeavors might those be sweetheart?” The pet name makes you shiver along with the physical contact, and a glance back at JJ tells you that it has a similar effect on him if the steam coming out of his ears is anything to go by. Taking Rafe’s question into consideration, you realize that you don’t have an answer for him, and neither, it seems, does Topper. So much for that quick thinking, huh. 

“Well, they were actually talking about the musical that we would be pitching to you tonight, written by me.” Pope chimes in, causing everyone in the room to look at him. Everyone in the room, besides Rafe, breathes a sigh of relief at the crisis averted by Pope’s explanation. “Yes! Y/n and Mr.Maybank were simply discussing the last minute details of the musical we will be putting on at the Moulin Rouge, with you assistance, of course.” Topper chimes in, sending a grateful look Pope’s way. 

“Sit down Mr.Cameron, and we’ll tell you all about this..this musical!” You suggest, leading him over to one of the plush chairs and letting out a gasp when he yanks on your wrist, pulling you down so that you’re sitting on his lap. You giggle, lightly swatting his chest in a manner that could only be looked at as flirtatious. “So, Y/n, tell me what this musical is all about..” He whispers lowly, seemingly forgetting that there are four other men in the room. JJ, fed up with Rafe’s behavior around you, blurts out before anyone can respond, “Love. Lovers and love.”

You can feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of your head when he says that, and you internally curse him for the faint blush that forms on your cheeks. You know he’s talking about the two of you, and the budding romance that you keep trying to subdue. To hide the blush from Rafe, you lean down, softly kissing the exposed skin of his neck. “Don’t forget sex. Its all about sex as well.” You whisper seductively in his ear, gagging a little at the tent growing the duke’s pants. 

JJ huffs at the display of sexual activity between the two of you, butting in once again. “Their love is an everlasting love. Unbroken by time, distance, or money.” He emphasizes the last word, knowing that that's the only obstacle between the two of you. Topper, trying to distract Rafe from the blond boy, steps in front of him, giving JJ a death glare to try to get him to stop. “But, the show is a family show, one that you can bring the whole family to see, so its guaranteed to make more money. A worthy investment if I do say so myself.”

“So who exactly will be starring in this musical? You’re going to need some talented actors, otherwise the show will be a disaster.” Rafe pointed out, causing Topper’s face to pale slightly. Luckily, John B was quick to answer. “Why, who else other than our dear, sweet Y/n. The star of this place is likely to bring in people from all over France for a night of entertainment and fun.” You nod your head vigorously, playing with the hair at Rafe’s neck. “Oh please make my dreams come true Mr.Cameron, I’ve always wanted to star as the lead of a musical.” 

“Of course darling,” he muses, tucking a loose strand of hair back in place in your updo. “Well gentlemen, I’m assuming this is not a one woman show, continue with the synopsis please.” Rafe declares, never taking his eyes off of you the whole time. It takes everything within JJ not to sucker punch him right then and there. How dare he think he has the right to touch you, to feel you, especially with JJ in the room. “She meets a man, unlike any she has ever met before.” JJ assertively answers, causing both Rafe and yourself to look at him. Your eyes widen slightly, when you see him look directly at you. “He’s been searching for a lover, and now he’s found one in her. Their love is divine and pure, something no material thing could ever get in the way of.” Your mouth is left agape at JJ’s declaration, but before Rafe can catch on and question you or the blond about what exactly was going on, Pope decides to intervene.

“But of course, we need some drama on the stage, and their love is thwarted, by a um, by a gangster! With money, who is also vying for our sweet ingenue, so a love triangle forms as a result! And, it's very angst filled with passion, love, and lust! A thrill for all ages, and for all time.”

Rafe nods, rubbing his chin in mock thought before glancing at you once more. You plaster on a small smile, leaning in to whisper in his ear once more. This money was needed to save the Moulin Rouge, and you’d do anything to get it. “Do it for me handsome?”

Rafe nods almost immediately, enamored by you and your subtle touches. “I’ll fund the show Thornton,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving your. Topper grins, giving you a look that says ‘you did it, thank you kiddo’. “Thank you so much sir.” Rafe nods, tearing eyes away from you for a moment. “Now if you don’t mind, I think me and the lady will be needing some alone time.” Based on the tone in his voice, Rafe was doing anything but asking the others to leave. 

JJ can feel his heart drop into the pit of his stomach at the thought of the two of you alone together, with him unable to stop Rafe’s advances on you. While the other three men all move to leave, JJ finds his feet glued to the floor, unable to move. He registers the others talking in the back of his mind, but it isn’t until he feels your hand on his arm and he sees your face that he is pulled out of his stupor. “Mr.Maybank, I know you’re very excited that your show has been approved, but me and Mr.Cameron want to spend some time alone together now.” You gently squeeze his arm, silently letting him now that you would be ok. You were a big girl, you could handle yourself with men, and Rafe Cameron was no exception. Ushering JJ towards the exit of your dressing room, you give him a nod of reassurance before closing the door in his face. When JJ hears the click of a lock, he groans in frustration, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but feel that his pining was pointless, and that the feelings that you had for him you wouldn’t be able to act on. All because he didn’t have enough money to give you everything you deserved.

As soon as you lock JJ out of your dressing room, you allow yourself only a second to recover before you turn around and come face to face with Rafe. “So, you know, I don’t know what to call you.” You muse, sauntering over towards Rafe who had moved over to the loveseat by this point. He quirks a brow, a smirk forming on his lips. “Oh, what do you mean by that?” His hands find their way to your waist once more, and more gently this time, he pulls you into his lap. “I mean, do want me to call you duke? Rafe? Mr.Cameron?” You lean in, your lips barely brushing against Rafe’s with your words. “Call me anything you want sugar.” With that, he smashes his lips against yours, his hand coming up to the back of your head to keep your lips pressed firmly against his. You grab on to the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer if that was even possible, before he maneuvers himself so that you’re laying down on the loveseat and he’s on top of you. “Are you ready to have your world rocked darling?” He questions, pressing kissed down your neck. You fight not to roll your eyes, nodding slightly. “Yes sir.” He smirks against your skin, pulling back to look you in the eye. “I think I like that nickname darling.”

He presses his lips against yours once more, and as his hands slowly inch up your leg and move to pull down your fishnets, you find yourself imagining that it's JJ’s hands on your body. Even laying here with Rafe, doing what had to be done, you couldn’t seem to get the blond Bohemian out of your mind.

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[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Graphic depiction of torture, graphic physical violence, captured/kidnapping, major character death

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 5,133

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​, @shrimpmsg​​,

AN: And it all goes downhill from here, Ladies...

Chapter 51: Begin

“I can’t stand you crying. I want to cry instead, although I can’t.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Samseong; Gangnam District South Korea

9:45 AM

Jungkook was three steps from heading to the insane asylum.

One step represented each day that he hadn’t been able to track Eden down.

He barely heard the words of comfort that Jimin was giving him. He knew that it had something to do with it not being his fault, but how could it not have been? He hadn’t heard from his wife in three days, assuming she got wrapped up with family affairs and was too busy to check in on the first day. The second day had him concerned that she’d gotten hurt. By the third day, Jungkook was at his wit’s end.

Only to find out that she’d been snatched up before she ever got the chance to leave for Daegu. He shouldn’t have put her second to his job. He shouldn’t have let her leave their house to go to the train station alone.

He shouldn’t have let this happen.

The image of Eden’s beaten form in the video clip was branded across the forefront of his mind. Hoseok was angry, determined to track down the Jade Fang members who’d done this. Jungkook was angry that they were still part of the equation. They should have been eliminated years ago.

It wasn’t like they weren’t aware of what Im Changkyun was capable of. They’d seen the vicious things he’d done while they were Jade Fang members themselves. He didn’t think it was necessary to attend district meetings, feeling the rest of the bosses were beneath his standards of proper mafia leadership. Hoseok was his only equal and it appeared that he continued to see him as such.

Divine Intervention prevented Jungkook from leaving the house that night and storming the stronghold of the Jade Fangs alone. He would have burned every single one of their businesses down; he was determined to do so. Jimin escorted him home that night and there was a parcel waiting at home for Jungkook. His brother made him a drink and when Jungkook opened the package, he collapsed on the floor and cried until he could barely breathe.

It was a gift Eden prepared for him for his birthday – a handmade model of his dream car. Seated in the car were miniature figures of Eden and himself. He didn’t remember passing out. He didn’t remember Jimin tucking a blanket over him. He could only remember Eden’s face, smiling as they shared breakfast together the morning she was taken.

“Jungkook-ah,” called Jimin, pulling Jungkook out of his inner musings. There was concern painted over his brother’s face and he took a breath, waiting for him to continue. “I think we’ve covered everywhere here.”

Jungkook said nothing. Instead, he pulled out the small notebook he carried with him and scratched out Gangnam from the list. For two and a half days, they combed every single section of Gangnam they could. There was a part of him that knew that the Jade Fangs wouldn’t be so arrogant to hold her hostage in their former territory. But there was also a part of him that could reason Im Changkyun doing something so ridiculous as a form of “poetic justice” against them.

To him, the Golden Jackals never disbanded.

“What about the others?”

Jimin sighed, leaning against the driver’s side door of the car. “They’re hitting the other areas. Hoseok called in some favors from the other district bosses to let us through.”

All Jungkook did was nod. There was something off about this whole situation. Very off. There shouldn’t have been a single obstacle in the way of the other district heads when it came to taking over their territories. Yongsan and Gangnam were completely up for grabs; Hoseok said as much. Jungkook could only guess that Changkyun’s influence prevented them from stepping a single foot into their turf. He more than likely was determined to get Hoseok and the others back so they could do a mass district takeover.

“I don’t like that Tae Hyung went off by himself,” he suddenly said, meeting Jimin’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, “I don’t either.”

Jungkook frowned. “He still hasn’t checked in yet?”

“No.”

He didn’t want to prod any further. Jimin was probably more worried about Taehyung than any of them. While it was unsurprising that he went off on his own, it was unlike him to not have checked in by now. Taehyung wasn’t a morning person, which was why they all knew that he hadn’t slept while he was on the hunt.

Then again, none of them were really sleeping.

A soft ache throbbed at Jungkook’s temple. He pressed a hand to his chest, taking a small amount of comfort in feeling his wedding band dangling from the necklace chain. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle not knowing what was happening with Eden.

“Hyung, I—”

“She’s fine, Jungkook-ah.” Jimin’s words sliced through his own, as if he’d already predicted what he was going to say. When he met his brother’s gaze, he saw the reassuring smile tinged with just a hint of worry. “If I know her, she’ll make them regret the day they decided to take her.”

“Not before I do.”

Suddenly, Jimin and Jungkook’s phones chimed simultaneously – indicating they received a message. Both looked at their phones immediately and Jungkook felt his heart rate escalate. It wasn’t a matter of him losing hope as seeing the message renewed his vigor.

It was from Taehyung.

Taehyung: I found her. She’s near Namyangju in Gyeonggi-do. Somewhere in the Industrial District. I’m heading back now.

Jungkook looked at Jimin the same time he did. Without uttering a word, they flung the doors open to the car and hopped in. Jimin fired up the engine and punched it, speeding out of Gangnam. Jungkook stared at his phone as more messages came through from the others. It didn’t take him long to figure out that they were closer to that location than everyone else. It was a half an hour drive, traffic willing.

They’d get there first.

10:17 AM

Namyangju – Gyeonggi Province South Korea

Jungkook felt like it took them a hundred years to get to their destination. With every mile marker they passed, it brought him one step closer to finding Eden. One step closer to bringing her home. He clung to the smallest shreds of his willpower not to scream at Jimin to drive faster. They didn’t need to get into any kind of accident before they reached her.

Jimin swung the car into an empty street, the desolate district eerie even in the morning light. Jungkook tumbled from the passenger side, all but tearing his seatbelt from his body in the process. Jimin called after him, but he paid him no mind. His legs ate up the ground as he ran headlong into the central area of the decrepit buildings.

No one lived in the abandoned sections of the province anymore, but the government hadn’t bothered with tearing it down. His hope began to dwindle, realizing just how expansive the district was. It would take them hours to find her at this rate.

Resisting the urge to scream, he slowed to a jogging pace before stopping altogether. Running around blindly without a single clue as to where to look would get him nowhere. They were just wasting time. There was even the chance that the group would up and relocate themselves before they could even have a chance at finding them.

Eden would be lost forever.

He heard Jimin run up behind him, clapping a hand to his shoulder. Jungkook did his best to tether his scattered thoughts, chasing away the worst possibilities from his mind. He needed to calm down and think.

“There were a few cars parked near the back,” he said after catching his breath, “we might need to go up top to get a better idea of where they might be.”

Jungkook nodded, pointing straight ahead. “I’ll head to that building down there. Text me if you find anything.”

Just as he was about to take off, Jimin grabbed him – halting his movements.

“No, we stick together.” Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but Jimin’s glare quickly silenced him. “If something happens, we won’t be able to do anything alone. We’re stronger together.”

While he wanted to argue, he knew that his brother was right. Even if splitting up would help them cover more ground, there was a good chance that they wouldn’t have a way to defend themselves if they got caught in a sticky situation. Jungkook did his best to push down his mounting impulsivities. Charging in blindly was foolish and would most likely get them killed.

“Alright, Hyung,” Jungkook said, relenting, “let’s go together.”

Not wasting another moment, they tore off down the center of the district – eyes rapidly searching in every direction their necks would allow them to turn.

10:32 AM

Minutes crept by at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook did everything he could to keep his head together. There were too many horrifying images playing rapidly in his head, like a flipbook that ended in blood splatters. Jimin stayed at his side, matching his pace as well as his fervor. Every so often, they would stop to peek into various buildings. They climbed up to higher vantage points to get a better lay of the area, dipping off to resume their search.

Everything looked so dead from the inside out.

A scream tore through the vast emptiness, causing Jungkook to trip over his own feet and he came crashing to the ground. Jimin was immediately beside him, grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him back up. Jungkook’s heart pounded double-time in his chest; it hurt. A cold sweat broke out over his skin and he couldn’t stop his body from trembling, even though Jimin rubbed small circles on his back.

“E-Eden,” he barely managed to croak, his legs shaking to the point where it was difficult to stand. Jimin continued to hold him up. “That was her!”

The sound was close.

Jimin said nothing. He continued to guide them along the path, turning around corners until he heard his wife scream again. It was even closer. They were almost to her!

He felt his brother release the hold he had on him and Jungkook involuntarily sagged against the side of a building. He didn’t know where they were or how deep into the district they’d gone. Jimin’s expression was focused and if he was feeling any sort of turmoil, it never showed. Not once.

The building they were pressed against was yellowed from age and neglect. Numerous cracks ran along the sides and bits of paint were peeling back; some pieces flying away from even the slightest gust of wind. The window had a long crack running from an upward angle to the corner of the pane; dirty and smudged. Jimin wiped a hand across the bottom to get rid of the dirt so he could see inside. Jungkook sidled up beside him to peek in as well.

He could feel Jimin’s vice-like grip on his shoulder, pinning him in place. Jungkook’s vision blurred momentarily before regaining focus, zeroing in on the image of his wife strung up like some animal. There were a few lackeys around and appeared to be bored – as if they were waiting for something interesting to happen. Jungkook felt the muscle at his jaw throbbing viciously as he clenched his teeth, grinding them in anger.

He wanted a gun. He would have emptied a clip into every single one of them.

Jungkook tried to move, but Jimin wouldn’t let him go.

“Hyung!” came his harsh whisper, but Jimin shook his head roughly.

“Wait, Jungkook,” he hissed back, finally letting him go, “just wait.”

“I can’t, dammit!”

“You can and you will.” Jimin’s words were final. “We don’t even know what kind of weapons they have in there. If Changkyun’s willing to play dirty like this, there’s no guarantee that his men won’t fill us full of holes with guns they obtained illegally.”

Jungkook wanted to protest, but he knew that Jimin was right. They needed to assess the situation fully before making a move. If they ran in there blindly without understanding what they were up against, there was a chance that Eden would die in the crossfire.

“So what now?”

Jimin continued to look through the window and he could see the wheels in his head turning. Strategy was his strongest suit so Jungkook did his best to be as patient as possible. A handful of seconds passed before he turned to meet his gaze.

“I’m going to go in from the front.”

“What?!” Jungkook gave him an incredulous look. “That’s crazy. Are you crazy?!”

“Shut-up and listen to me.” Jimin turned to look back through the window. “I’m going to draw their attention to me. This window is loose so as soon as I get them to chase me, I want you to go in and grab Eden and then get the hell out of here.”

He didn’t like this plan.

“There’s ten of them, Hyung. Maybe more. You can’t outrun them all.”

Jimin grinned, still peering into the building. “I can try.”

Jungkook grabbed his shoulder. “Hyung!”

He felt his arm being yanked off abruptly, causing him to take a step back. Jimin cast an icy glare in his direction.

“Do what I say.”

He wanted to protest again. He wanted to tell him that this was suicide. They should wait for the others. Wouldn’t that have been the smart thing?

But if they waited too long, then they may miss their chance. The Jade Fangs could probably swarm them, call for more men, and then overtake them completely. Jungkook knew that the plan was the best option they had right now.

It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Without waiting for him to agree or even disagree, Jimin turned and ran down one side of the building. He rounded the corner and disappeared on the other side, leaving Jungkook alone to wait. There was a distinct feeling of dread sweeping over him, telling him that there was danger to watch out for. But wasn’t that obvious? Didn’t they understand that, knowingly showing up to this place?

This was unavoidable.

A loud bang rang out inside the large interior. Jungkook peered over the bottom of the window, craning his neck as best he could. Light flooded into the dark space as he watched Jimin’s shadow stretching along the floor. All the men inside turned around, grabbing what weapons they had near them to launch an assault. Jimin immediately dispatched one of the lackeys close to the door before turning to run away from the building. All but two gave chase.

Now!

Jungkook thrust the window open, causing it to break further from the force. He leaped in through the opening and charged forward. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction caused by his entrance, Jungkook barreled into the man closest to him – taking him down with a swift grappling throw. The man landed on his head; a distinct crack heard from his skull smacking into the concrete.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of silver, and he dodged at the last second. Whirling his body around, he jumped back with his arms extended out as another man tried to hit him with a metal bat. Jungkook bobbed and weaved out of the way, moving just out of reach at the last possible moment. Pivoting on his back leg, he waited for the man to try to swing at him again before catching the bat in his hand and pulling it toward him. The man slid on his heels, the distance closing rapidly. Jungkook aimed a kick straight for his stomach and sent him flying.

He brought the bat down over the man’s head for good measure.

With the two men unconscious, Jungkook swerved around and ran toward Eden. He did his best to avoid looking at her injuries, not wanting to distract himself from the most important task he had: freeing her. As he looked at her restraints, he did his best to concentrate on her face. She was semi-conscious, the noise bringing her out of whatever fugue state she was in.

“J-Jungkook-ah?” She coughed. “Y-You shouldn’t be here…”

“Shh,” he admonished, his eyes flicking over her bindings, “save your strength.”

His hands moved with lightning speed, fidgeting over the ropes and chains binding her as she hung from a large hook attached to the ceiling. When he finally managed to loosen the ropes, he lifted her up by her waist so he could untether her from the hook. Her arms dangled limply around his neck; the chains clamped around her wrists jingling together with the sudden movement.

Her body lacked the strength to keep herself upright and she nearly collapsed to the ground. Jungkook held fast to her, moving her arms over his head so he could undo the chains around her wrists. He could tell she’d lost weight and she seemed almost a shell of who he knew her to be. He focused on getting her to safety – choosing to smother his fury into the pit of his stomach.

“Go,” she whispered as he held onto her, “get out of here.” She coughed again. “Leave me.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he snapped, draping her arm over his shoulder as he held onto her waist, “now come on.”

Jungkook wouldn’t hear anymore of this nonsense, even if it was coming from the woman he loved. She was barefoot, but there wasn’t any glass on the ground. If she didn’t think she’d be able to walk, he’d carry her on his back and dare her to say otherwise.

Shuffling toward the entrance, he could hear men yelling in the distance. But it sounded like it was getting closer. Jimin was circling back, probably to make sure that they’d gotten out. If they could hold out a little longer, the others would come and then they could cause a big enough scene to get the hell out.

Just as he reached the entryway, he turned to make sure the two men he’d dealt with were still on the ground. Satisfied that they weren’t going to be getting up anytime soon, he turned back toward the exit.

A shadow moved from the corner. Eden saw it before he did. Jungkook shuffled to the left. He was half a step short.

The pain didn’t register at first. All he could focus on was Yoo Kihyun who was now directly in his path to freedom. It wasn’t until he saw the older man take a step forward that Jungkook took a step back. But not of his own freewill. He was forced to step back.

The knife in his gut pushed him to move.

Eden screamed but he barely heard it. Jungkook nearly dropped her, but his stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to fall. Not in front of him; her captor. A chilling smile painted over Kihyun’s face as he tilted his head, peering into Jungkook’s eyes. It was like he was asking him what his next move would be without having to say it out loud. For a split second, Jungkook’s vision blurred.

Releasing the hold he had on Eden’s arm, he grabbed a hold of the knife and pushed back – pulling the blade slowly from his gut. Kihyun blinked in surprise at him, watching as he drew the older man’s arm away from his body while still holding his wife fast to him. Again, Eden screamed, but this time she moved with whatever strength was left in her body – arms reaching out in a feral manner.

She scratched her nails across Kihyun’s face, forcing him to reach up and cover his cheek. Jungkook stepped forward, pulling the knife completely from his stomach, before spinning it in his blood-soaked fingers to grasp the blade’s handle. Kihyun stumbled backward a step and Jungkook quickly closed the distance, plunging the knife directly into his shoulder and aiming a kick to his knee. He waited for him to hit the dirt before pulling Eden quickly behind him.

He didn’t have to express the need for urgency.

They both disappeared into a nearby cluster of reeds.

10:45 AM

Blood wept from the side of Jimin’s head as he rounded the corner of a building. He held onto a rusty metal pipe, clutching it at his side. He knew one of his ribs were broken, if not two, and there was a good chance he very nearly sprained his ankle hopping over a broken-down car to avoid being clobbered with a length of chain. He quickly did a tally in his head, making a note that he was able to knock down four of the eight that were chasing him. Two of them he tripped up along their pursuit and the rest were now trying to comb the nearby streets in search of him.

Hearing Eden’s scream forced him to double back toward the building where he’d left Jungkook. It wasn’t the sound of agony. It was of outrage. Something must have happened. He needed to get back to them and quickly.

Jimin wiped some of the sweat and blood from his head, spitting at the ground. Once his heart calmed down, he tried to ascertain his whereabouts. Just two buildings over and he’d be right back where he’d started.

Come on, Park Jimin. Calm down and focus.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, eyeing the screen. It was from Yoongi.

Yoongi: We’re almost there! Where are you guys? Give us a landmark!

Taking a moment to breathe, he turned his head in every direction to try and gauge a decent landmark for the others to follow. There was a cluster of blue barrels far away from the abandoned buildings, just toward the edge where a large field of reeds were. He quickly texted him back, letting him know the location.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, gripping the metal pipe in both hands. Now he just needed to get back to Jungkook who, he hoped, had Eden in tow.

His phone buzzed again; this time in succession. Someone was calling him.

Dipping into a nearby building, he hunkered down in a shadowed corner to look at the phone. It was Jungkook. He answered.

“Jungkook-ah?”

“H-Hyung…”

Jimin could tell something was wrong.

“Where are you?”

“T-The…the reeds…”

He had to refrain from cursing. There were reeds in every direction. He took a breath to calm his nerves.

“What else do you see around you?”

There was a pregnant pause and he wondered if something was happening with the call.

Jimin-ah?”

It was Eden. His heart practically jumped into his throat.

“Oh, thank God he got you out. Are you alright?”

“Never mind that. Jungkook’s hurt.”

He could hear the frantic tone in her voice. Jimin tried to smooth his voice out in a way that would help take the edge off for her.

“Okay, just breathe. Can you tell me where you guys are right now?”

“I can’t really see anything. The reeds are so thick.”

“Can you see any barrels around you?”

“Hold on.”

It was only a few seconds, but Jimin felt like he was losing years off his life as he waited for her to answer.

“I can see some blue ones. But they’re far away.”

He resisted the urge to smile. They weren’t that far from his current location.

“How far?”

“Several yards. They’re across that dirt path.”

“Okay, good.” His side screamed at him from the position he was in, but he ignored it. “I want you to meet me there, okay?”

It sounded like she was about to sob which unnerved him.

“Can’t you just come here? Jungkook’s hurt badly and I don’t have the strength to carry him.”

Jimin hissed quietly to himself. I told him to be careful… He took a breath. “Alright, I’ll come to you. I’ll be there soon.”

“Hurry!”

Ending the call, Jimin slipped out the back of the building and made his way around the next bend. Part of him wanted to throw the pipe off in a different direction, hoping the noise would distract others away from his path. But if they got flanked, he’d need a way to defend Eden, Jungkook, and himself. Especially if Jungkook was as hurt as Eden claimed he was.

This isn’t good, he thought, tearing through the back alleyway and heading up the side of the street to disappear into the thicket of reeds.

10:57 AM

Even though he knew he’d only traveled a few blocks, it felt like he’d been moving for miles. Each turn he made, Jimin thought he was getting more and more lost. Every so often, he’d turn his head to look over his shoulder and spy out the buildings – making sure that he was still on a straight path to the others. He heard some of the other men shouting at each other, trying to figure out where they’d gone, and each of these times, Jimin would pause so that he didn’t give away his position.

Just as he was about to resume his search, he heard a distinct shuffling sound off to his right. It was close.

“J-Jimin-ah? Is that you?”

It was Eden. She sounded exhausted and halfway to the underworld, but it was her. Jimin quickly darted in the direction of her voice, parting the reeds in front of him as he went.

A lump of ice dropped in his stomach at what he saw.

There, cradled in her arms, was Jungkook. A large blood stain blossomed from his shirt and he saw Eden pressing his jacket to his stomach and putting pressure on the injury. She was crying, doing her best to keep her sobs nonexistent so they didn’t alert the others of where they were. She looked up, relief and despair battling for dominance over her features. Jimin dropped the pipe in his hands, his legs slowly carrying him toward Jungkook just as he spit up blood from his mouth.

“J-Jungkook-ah,” he stammered, collapsing to his knees.

Despite the obvious pain he was in, Jungkook flashed him a smile full of blood-stained teeth. “H-Hyung,” he managed to get out, albeit garbled from a mouthful of blood, “what took you so long?”

Jimin didn’t have the energy to snap back. He felt like part of his soul just left him completely. His eyes roved over Jungkook’s body, trying to figure out the cause of his brother’s current state. He lifted his gaze to meet Eden’s.

“What happened?”

“It was Kihyun,” she said weakly while brushing some of the fringe off of Jungkook’s forehead, “he came out of nowhere and—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook interjected, causing them both to focus on him, “Hyung, get her out of here.”

Another piece of his soul was pulled away.

“W-What?”

Eden shifted him in her arms, clinging to him in desperation. “I’m not leaving you!”

“Yes, you are.” Jungkook reached up to his neck, grabbing the necklace and popping it off in one quick motion. He smeared blood over his skin and clothes, holding it up for Eden. “Take it and go.”

She emphatically shook her head and Jimin could tell that even doing this was zapping her of what strength she had left.

“You bastard,” she muttered, curling her fingers into the fabric of his jacket, “how can you expect me to leave you? Huh?” Eden lowered herself, pulling him against her body to hug him close. “Till death do us part, remember?”

Jungkook did his best to wrap an arm around her, coughing more blood out and staining her shirt. “…and this…is where…we part.”

Eden shot back, looking down at Jungkook as tears streamed down her face, dripping onto his cheeks.

“J-Jungkook,” she stammered, her bottom lip trembling as her voice shook.

Again, he smiled up at her. “I love you, Eden.” He grabbed her hand and placed the necklace inside her palm, closing her fingers over it. “If…if I’m reborn, let me love you in the next life too, okay?”

Jimin could hear his own heart shattering in his chest.

“Hyung…take her and go.”

“But Jungkook-ah—”

“Please.”

Tears leaked out of Jimin’s eyes. It took everything he had, but he stood up and crossed over to where Eden was. She continued to hold onto her husband, refusing to let go even as Jimin tried to pull her up and onto her feet. She fought him but even she knew that she didn’t have the strength to keep it up. Jimin held her against him and they both gazed at the satisfied and peaceful expression on Jungkook’s face. He nodded to them, mouthing for them to go.

Jimin turned, hauling Eden with him as she wailed silently into the crook of his shoulder.

I’ll come back for you, Jungkook. I won’t leave you alone out here...

11:05 AM

He knew that it was only a few minutes since he watched Eden and his brother leave. In those few minutes, Jungkook believed it was several lifetimes. In those few minutes, he thought back to everything that led to this very moment. All the choices he’d made, the road he’d traveled, and the people he’d traveled on that road with along the way.

He regretted nothing up until that moment.

The only thing he knew he would have to repent for would be leaving his beautiful wife behind alone. They’d had a few chapters written in their life together, but they were pages filled with hopes and dreams for an uncertain future. Life never gave guarantees. The only certainty for life was death. It was the same for everyone.

The sun was reaching its peak over the skies. There were very little clouds littering the pale blue blanket above him and he wasn’t sure if it was the bright light that was making it difficult to see or something else. Jungkook lost feeling to the lower half of his body nearly two minutes earlier.

Again, he coughed and more blood sprayed from his mouth. Tears brimmed his eyes, slipping from the corners to seep into his ears.

My brothers…

Jungkook could feel his eyelids growing a little heavier with each passing second, but he forced them to stay open.

Eden…

But the darkness began to creep around the corners of his vision, blurring out the light until it was a faint glow in his line of sight.

He wanted to keep feeling the warmth of the sun on his face until the very end.

…until we meet again.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #bangtangarmynet #btsbookclub #thekpopnetwork #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fanfics #kpop fanfic #kpop fics #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #bts mafia au #bts mafia!au #bts crime au #bts crime!au #bts x angst #bts x romance #bts angst #bts x smut #bts smut #bts romance #bts ot7 #bts x ot7 #thebiasrekkers #bts thebiasrekkers #thebiasrekkers bts #make it right bts #bts make it right

[let-me-perish]

We've got some dreams

For @mindfulmagics who came up with a tangled themed AU.

No idea where this would fit in, probably after whatever angst anyone else writes, but I choose to believe this started off as a joke when Marinette meets Red Hood while at another low point and asks him to take her somewhere where she won't have to worry thinking about her class.

I choose to believe he had no idea how much of a lightweight she was going to be when he egged her on into trying alcohol for the first time. Anyone else has full authority to mess with how it happened any way they would like, I just like the idea of angry, petty, but still shockingly oblivious and accepting Marinette. Like, your tie's not on wright or you bring up HW or Lila and the gloves are off. Anything else though and she's all 'hello there~ I love your hair, where did you get it?'

Enjoy

Somehow, at some point, through some dramatic twist of fate, Marinette Dupen-Chang made it into the iceberg lounge. Not only did she make it into the reasonably decorated(it could be better) villain hot spot, but she did it with the one and only Red Hood next to her. Not only was he with her, he had gotten her to try alcohol too.

And if the thought of a slightly drunk heroine in a fancy bar full of villains and people with questionable backgrounds wasn't horrifying enough, she had heard the owners name, took one look at his outfit as he stepped outside of his office and scoffed.

"Is that really what he's wearing?"

It had been in French since her mouth had been moving but her brain had not. Regardless of that fact heads swiveled as the room went silent. Red Hood had gone still beside her.

Marinette had gotten up off of her stool and headed towards him with the expression only a determined, drunk teenage girl can have.

"You don't even have a real Penguin motif, " she complained as she gestured at his outfit. "You're just black and white."

Either he knew French or she was slipping between French and English enough that he could understand.

The Penguins voice was cold and laced with fake amusement. "And what changes would you suggest I make?"

"More than a tuxedo for one, " she snapped "add some feather embroidery or put a penguin head on your cane. You have a theme so stick with it, " she stressed. "Even a silver penguin pin would add more to this."

Red hood placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back "alright then, we'll just be going now and-"

"I think you'll be staying here actually." Red hood was blocked from going any further back by a large muscled chest of one of the many mercenaries that attended the lounge. Villains that had previously been sitting and quietly watching the pair were now standing and circling around them.

"I've heard there's a nice little prize on your head thanks to the Joker."

Red Hood pulled Marinette closer to him as he frowned inside his helmet. "And you think he'll actually pay any of you?"

There was a shrug "maybe not but at least we're down one of the bats."

Marietta was frowning. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by her own squeak of surprise as someone threw the first punch. It quickly turned into a fight and Red Hood lost his hold on the young girl and she was shoved and pushed to the outer edges.

Marinette turned to try and get back to Red Hood "wait- no! Stop it! Give my guy back!" Her tipsy and drunk mind was racing and with no thought for what would happen afterward her eyes landed on the Penguins cane.

She had stolen the cane from the lager mans hands a moments later and slammed it onto the shoulder of the nearest villain "give him back!"

The cane snapped and the lounge went quiet for the second time as all eyes turned towards her. "What is wrong with all of you? Can you be civil and act like adults for once! Dear Kiwami, I am so tired of dealing with children! For once, just once, I want people to actually use their brains and act like adults. I have been dealing with idiots who believe some lying fox over me for years and he is one of the first people to believe me outside of Paris! I was hoping you would all be different! I had dreamed for weeks about an escape from the glares and the hate and none of you can give me even five minutes of that!?"

There was a moment of perfect silence in the lounge as masked and unmasked faces stared at her in a mix of shock and surprise. Someone sat Red Hood down in a chair and a bartender snapped a set of handcuffs on him while staring at the girl.

Penguin was the one to break the silence as he picked up the broken half of his cane off of the floor. Marinette stood her ground as he walked up to face her, looking at the head of the cane as walked.

"I had a dream once, " he mused aloud before dropping the cane to the floor. "I'm malicious, mean and scary, some say my near could curdle dairy. I'll admit my hands are not the cleanest. But despite my evil business, and my temper and my goons, " he snapped his fingers and the Iceberg Lounges pianist finally began playing again "I've always yearned to be a ballroom dancer."

He grabbed Marinette by the wrist and pulled her closer. He had a grin on his face like he dared her to make and kind of comment as he pulled her alone is clumsy and staggered steps, in part to his limp and normal walking pattern.

"Can you see me on the floor dancing a flawless tango? Listening to all the people who mocked me can cry and scream. And yes, I love to be called deadly, and have everyone respect me!" The last part was a hiss in her face but Marinette was smiling back.

There was no animosity, just genuine encouragement, and kindness from this random girl who had walked in with a vigilante, gotten drunk, insulted his fashion sense by saying it wasn't enough, and then broken his cane while going off at a room full of criminals.

He found himself grinning wider. "But I can still accomplish that and have a dream." He spun her clumsily under his arm and she had to bend to fit under(but not by much since they're both fairly short). "Yes, I've got a dream." The next bit was whispered but it felt like an announcement "but I'm just as cruel and vicious as I seem."

"I order my goons to break some femurs, but I can be counted with the dreamers. Like everybody else I've got a dream." He let her break away as he spun her once more and she ended up in the arms of Two-Face.

He started off by stating possibly the most obvious thing in the room. "I've got scars and burns and bruises, and maybe something else that oozes, and let's not even go any further. But despite the bits of hair-"

"And your two-tone fashion sense." Was this girl going to insult all of their suits?

Two-Face continued with a chilling grin in the face of her teasing smile "and the bone, I really want to make this city better. Can you imagine all the corrupt political officials having their fates decided while their secrets are let out for the world to see? While I'm one disgusting bugger, I'd still rather be a lawyer, not a fighter. And right here and right now I've got a dream!"

Red Hood watched in stunned silence as almost all of the criminals we're somehow pulled into this. Baring bits of their soul to each other and this girl but still not letting weakness show for more than a second, reminding themselves and each other what they had done, and still could do every few verses.

Everyone except for the shockingly uncaring and happy Marinette.

Two-Face kept going as he grabbed Marinette and twirled her in his arms "I know one day my kind of justice will reign supreme! Though my face leaves people screaming, there's a lawyer inside me screaming. Like everybody else I'm working on my dream."

Marinette was turned to face Poison Ivy. Red Hood wasn't sure who was chiming in anymore.

"Ivy would like to quit and be a florist-" the redhead ran a hand over the rim of one of the large decorative vases and smiled as it was filled with simple white flowers to match the decore.

"Riddler wants to write a riddle book for kids-" the green-clad man gave a bow as a way to avoid the critical look his bright green suit got. That was just to much bright green of the wrong shade in one spot to look good.

"Harley's into zoos-" there was something yelled about 'those poor animals' before Ivy shut her up so things could keep going.

"Deathstroke's cocktails are divine-" the assassin had stayed near the edge of the encounter the entire time but didn't seem to mind having the attention momentarily shift to him for this.

"Catwoman sings, Freeze makes carvings-" now where was the casual threat?

"Firefly likes to burn abusive parents to a crisp-" there it was.

The group of criminals had somehow gathered around Red Hood again. "What about you?"

Red hood stared at the shorter man "I'm sorry me?"

The Penguin made a gesture and he was unhandcuffed. "What's your dream?"

The vigilante scoffed "I don't think so. I don't sing." That was a lie, he wasn't above singing along to a musical at top volume while driving just to annoy Bruce and the demon spawn.

The sheer mass of lasers, guns, knives, and other assorted weapons pointed at his face had him standing on the bar top as he continued this absolute insanity.

"I have dreams like you, no really, they're not all touchy-feely, " there were amused looks of doubt. "They mainly happen somewhere warm and sunny." There were some scoffs and chuckles at his awkward motions but Red Hood was quickly gaining confidence.

"On an Island that I own, " he snagged a bottle of expensive alcohol "well tanned, rested and alone, " the bartender snagged it back just as he went to drink it. Red Hood gave a small shrug but was grinning under his helmet now. "Surrounded by enormous piles of money!"

There was a cheer after that. This kind of mood was somehow infectious. There was no way he could not go along with this with a smile on his face. Especially when he thought about demon-spawns face if he ever found out about hid beloveds effect of Gotham's criminal population.

Marinette was tossed up onto the bar with him "I've got a dream! I've got a dream! I just want to hear that filthy liar scream! And with every passing hour, I'm so glad they left me in that hotel! Like all you lovely folks I've got a dream."

Red Hood laughed along with the villains, and here they had though little miss Marinette Dupen-Chang was an innocent cinnamon roll. If only Demon Spawn could see her now.

Part of him was worried her class was going to be 'accidentally' running into more villain activity than normal.

Regardless he sung on with this button of a girl and hoard of criminals.

"She's got a dream! We've got a dream! Our differences don't seem all that extreme! We've got a dream!"

Red Hood was pulled from the bar as Marinette danced on her own. Nothing they did actually hurt him but this was a clear display of control as they pushed, shoved, and teased him. A sharp reminder that he was alone in the territory of a man that may not have a deep-rooted personal vendetta yet but some of the patrons certainly did. And the only thing keeping any of them from violence was a drunk preteen from Paris dancing by herself on top of the bar.

"Call us brutal, sadistic, and grotesquely optimistic, but way deep down we've got a dream!"

One of Penguins goons had picked up Marinette as they were skilfully taken towards an exit(in Red Hoods case, shoved, lightly kicked, and otherwise moved) as they chorused one after another 'I've got a dream' until it reached Marinette.

Red Hood was shoved out of the back doors and the girl dropped into his arms to the sound of their laughter.

"It's time for you to leave, " the Penguin told him with a wide smile that offered no negotiation. "But, if the girl would ever like to come back she is welcome to. As long as she comes with an actual argument for why I should change a look that has served me so well through my years."

"She might just make you a new one, " Red Hood muttered, "she is a designer."

The smile grew "then I guess I'll have to look into her work to see if her advice is even worth listening too."

Red Hood chose then to leave while he could still do so semi-gracefully. Not that the laughter of the villains and criminals behind him made it easier.

The possibility of her class having a criminal run-in was almost a certainty now. But this was probably his own fault for taking her to the ice burg lounge as a joke instead of literally any other bar.

#maribat #tangled au #song fic #batman villains #red hood #marinette dupen chang #batman #miraculous ladybug

[shipmistress9]

HW2020 -- Bonus: Follow Your Heart

Bonus part 8 of my Hiccstrid week 2020.

Okay, I know this is almost two weeks late... But, well, it’s just a bonus and not one of the main shorts I wrote for this project. And hey! It’s finally done!

This short... is a tough one. Bittersweet. On AO3, it comes with the “Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings” tag.

And I wrote this short in a way that, hopefully, it can take place in whatever time period you like. It could be an AU during the Viking times, I guess. Or it could be a modern AU. Or anything in-between. Whichever you prefer.

. o O o .

It was early morning, the sand crunching beneath her feet. The cool morning air was thick with mist, the waves lapping at the beach more audible than visible. Smiling, Astrid took a deep breath of the salty brine and continued her walk along the shore. 

She more felt his presence than anything else. His silhouette was barely visible in the swirling mist, his voice nothing but a whisper on the breeze around her. But she could feel that he was close, watching her as she walked. 

She sat down in her usual spot, a large piece of driftwood that had one gnarled branch reaching up into the sky. Perfect to lean against. Her gaze wandered out over the endless sea, the mist having lightened with the rising sun. 

"It's been ten years today," she said, smiling melancholically. She didn't get an answer, hadn't expected one. But she thought she could feel him coming closer, listening to her every word. "Do you remember? I'd just moved to Berk that day and had to stay at the inn before moving in properly…"

. o O o .

She'd been warned that the weather on Berk wasn't exactly welcoming, had been prepared with warmer clothes and sturdy boots. But she'd not expected to be soaking wet from only the five-minutes’-walk from the harbour to the inn. Shivering and cursing under her breath, she tried to open the door without letting any of her bags land in the muddy puddles on the ground.

"Wait, let me help you." 

The voice came from a young man jogging toward her down the hill. Relieved, she took a step to the side and let him hold the door open for her. 

“Thanks,” she sighed wholeheartedly.

“Anytime,” the young man replied, green eyes sparkling beneath his hood. 

He was handsome, she noticed, with stubbles on his chiselled jaw and countless freckles giving him an adorable touch. Attractive. She wouldn't have minded looking at him for a little bit longer, but it was not to be. Before she could say anything, he gave her a nod and a smile, and then vanished into the tavern room. But maybe she’d meet him again, Berk wasn’t that big, after all.

The innkeeper, a  friendly elderly woman, directed her to her room, and as she unpacked her bags, she mused that the people around here seemed to be friendly enough to make up for the bad weather. She changed into fresh clothes, then headed down again in search of some food. Hopefully, there would be something to warm her up. 

When she entered the tavern room, however, her hopes dropped a little. It was crowded far beyond what she’d expected. But then again, Berk wasn’t big and this was quite possibly the only tavern on the entire island. She looked around for a free table and grimaced when she found none. Just people everywhere, eating and drinking, laughing and enjoying the warmth of a burning hearth. 

She was about to give up and ask the innkeeper whether she could take some bread and cheese up to her room, when her eyes caught sight of someone waving at her. How she even noticed the motion amidst the chaotic tavern room she did not know. But it was clearly directed at her. 

At first, she reflexively expected it to be some crude pick up thing; it had happened a few times too many before. And it wasn't as if she knew anyone on this island. But then she recognised the waving man as the one who’d held the door open for her. Without the hood and heavy black raincoat, she hardly recognised him, but his gleaming eyes were unmistakable, even across the room. His lips were pulled into an open smile, and with that untidy mop of auburn hair and a green shirt, he looked even more handsome than before.

Astrid hesitated for only one moment before weaving her way through the crowd. To her initial disappointment, there was no free space near him either, but the young man quickly pushed the man next to him further up the bench and scooted over, making room for her. “Ragnar, stay on your side, will you?” he chided with humour in his voice. “Can’t leave the lady standing, right?”

She hesitated again, glancing around once more, but then gladly took the free seat. Usually, she prided herself as being well able to care for herself, but after a day of travel, she wouldn’t turn down a little support. “Thanks,” she sighed, leaning back with relief. “I was just about to give up on something warm to eat.”

“Ah, we can’t have that,” he replied. He raised his arm, gesturing at the burly man standing behind the bar. “There’s some good stew tonight. I’m Hiccup, by the way.” 

Astrid raised her eyebrow. “Hiccup?”

Hiccup shrugged. “Actually, it’s Henry. But the only person calling me that is my grandma. So unless you’re her in disguise, I’m Hiccup.” He grinned at her, the way one corner of his lips tilted up higher than the other somehow utterly endearing.

“Hiccup it is, then,” she laughed, feeling surprisingly at ease around him. “And I’m Astrid.”

Now, it was on Hiccup to raise an eyebrow? “Astrid? Really?”

There was a mischievous spark in his eyes, one that made her frown. “Why? What’s wrong with that name?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he replied lightly. His lips were twitching though, making her suspicious. However, before she could say anything, a young woman, a barmaid apparently, appeared next to her. 

“Here you go, Hiccup. Two bowls of mum’s stew. Anything else?”

Hiccup only shrugged. “The usual.”

With a questioning look, the barmaid turned toward Astrid next. 

“I…” she began, not sure what was expected of her. “What’s ‘the usual’?” 

“A tankard of our best beer. One of the mid-sized ones, because the big ones are too much for him.”

Now, it was on Astrid to throw Hiccup a questioning look. 

He blushed and said a little sheepishly, “It’s true.”

Chuckling, she turned back toward the barmaid. “I’ll take one of those too, then.”

The woman nodded and left. Astrid had barely reached for her spoon before she was back though, placing two still rather impressive tankards in front of them. 

“Thanks, Cami. These are on me."

Still stunned about how quickly the woman, Cami, had returned, Astrid watched her leave this time. And even though she didn't like to admit it, she was impressed by how easily she navigated the crowded room, pushing aside men certainly twice her weight with apparent ease.

"How… how does she do that?" Astrid asked, bemused.

Hiccup followed her gaze and smirked. "Cami is a force of nature. Don't even try to make sense of her."

Astrid frowned but accepted his words with merely a shrug. They seemed to be on good enough terms and the amusement in Hiccup's voice told her that he was mostly joking.

She reached for her beer. "Thanks for this, by the way. Next round's on me." 

"You're welcome," he replied, with a warm smile this time that made her insides flutter strangely. "Consider it a 'Welcome on Berk' gift.”

She let her spoon sink into the bowl again and looked up at him, confused. “How do you know I’m new?”

Hiccup laughed, his shoulders shaking even as he tried to suppress it. “That question alone would give you away,” he chuckled. “You might not have noticed yet, but Berk isn’t exactly big. I’ve lived here all my life, so I know a stranger’s face when I see one. Besides, I know that Helka Hofferson’s niece is moving to Berk to support her. And if that’s not you, then I wonder how many people there are who look just like her.”

Astrid scrunched up her nose but didn’t reply. She should have guessed as much; her aunt had warned her that she would be ‘the new one’ for quite a while. And he had a point, the family resemblance between her and her aunt was indisputable. So she decided not to bother.

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s me,” she admitted, shrugging and rolling her eyes but still smiling. “It really is that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Mmh…” Hiccup hummed, looking her over from head to toe. “Yep.”

They ate their stew with more light conversation in-between. Astrid managed to pay for the second round of drinks – the beer watered down considerably this time – and by the time those were almost empty she felt as if she’d known Hiccup for all her life. 

Talking to him – being with him, really – was surprisingly easy. They seemed to click naturally with just enough contrast to keep their conversation interesting but otherwise being in sync like she’d been with nobody else before. 

“Can I ask you something?” she asked at least two hours after she’d entered the tavern room. 

Hiccup just cocked his head, nodding and waving a hand to indicate for her to go on. The curiosity on his face was true and friendly. Astrid felt as if she could talk to him about everything. 

“What did you mean earlier? About my name, I mean.” 

“Oh, that.” He smirked. “Well, the name is a little presumptuous, don’t you think? ‘Divine Beauty’? Come on, you have to admit that it’s a pretty arrogant name: And, sorry, but you don’t live up to it.”

Astrid could do little but gape at him. She was used to men making comments about her name, but not like this. Never like this! Had he really just called her ugly? Flabbergasted, she contemplated how to react, whether to simply leave or to punch his arm first. 

But then she noticed the mischievous gleam in his eyes, the teasing smirk playing around his lips as he took another mouthful of beer. Oh, he was good, poking fun at her vanity. Cheeky. But in a way, she liked it. It gave their conversation this sense of companionability, as if they’d been friends for years already. And even though they’d only met a couple of hours ago, it felt just right somehow. 

“Whatever you say... uhm,” she hawed, frowning to herself. On any other occasion, she’d used his surname for this statement. But as she spoke, she realised that she didn’t even know his surname. In fact, she knew close to nothing about him. Somehow, that didn’t sit well with her. 

“So… what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to stir their conversation toward getting to know each other. 

He seemed confused though. “Here as in here on Berk? I live here.”

Astrid shook her head. “No, I meant here in this tavern. All on your own. Isn’t that a bit odd?” 

“Huh. Maybe it is odd,” he agreed, weirdly melancholically all of a sudden. He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slightly as if only to himself. He leaned a little closer, elbows resting on the table, and sighed. “I just couldn’t stand staying at home today, you know?

There definitely was a natural companionship between them, one that ran deeper than it had any right to. “Is that a general statement or did something happen?” It was too personal a question. But it felt right to ask it nonetheless.

Hiccup’s lips twitched into a humourless smile. “Both, in a way. You see…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “My father is the leader of this island. The Chief, if you want to use that phrase. He wants me to follow in his footsteps, but… well, that’s simply not who I am. So I’ve been nothing but a failure and a disappointment to him ever since I can remember."

"I'm sorry to hear that." 

She placed a hand on his arm to offer comfort, marvelling at how warm he was. Suddenly, she found herself wondering about how it would feel to get embraced by those arms, to feel his warmth all around her. Somehow, she missed that heat. 

She shook her head to chase those thoughts away. Yes, he was attractive; she’d noticed that the moment she’d first gotten a good look at him. But this wasn’t the moment to think about that. 

No matter how appealing the idea was.

“So… what do you want to do?” she asked, to get herself back on track but also out of honest interest. The longer she talked to Hiccup the more interested she became in him, and not just physically. 

“I… I want to see the world,” he said, looking up at her and with a crooked smile. “Which is kinda the answer to your earlier question,” he added with a sigh. “I’m not just here because Dad and I disagree in general, but because I couldn’t stand him moping around and shooting me angry looks or disappointed comments all the time. You see, I’m leaving. Tomorrow. There’s this research ship, the Night Fury. Once or twice a year, they start from Berk for an expedition all around the world. When I was little, I used to spend hours on a shore at the northern end of the island. From there, I would watch the horizon, impatiently waiting for the Night Fury to return and for the crew members and explorers to tell their tales.” A fond smile crossed his face. “Anyway… Tomorrow, they’re leaving for another trip. And I’ll go with them. It’s not even that I’ll be gone forever, only a few months. But Dad thinks it’s a complete waste of time and tried only-the-Gods-know-what to keep me here.”

“That… must be tough.” She grimaced, thinking back to her own family always so full of support for whatever anyone wanted to do. 

Hiccup shrugged, sitting up straighter again. “It’s all right. I’m used to it by now, and I know that he means well. He just doesn’t understand me, never has, and probably never will.” He chuckled. “But at least I have my grandma’s – his mother’s – blessing. She always tells me to follow my own heart. So that’s what I’ll do.”

Astrid nodded. “I’m glad you have at least some support.” She paused, taking a swallow before slightly changing the topic. “So, what exactly will you be doing on this journey?”

His face lit up at her question. “Oh, the main goal is to explore the Arctic,” he explained. “I’m going to assist, take notes, and…”

Attentively, she listened to Hiccup explaining the goals of this expedition. The longer he talked, the more animated he became. His hands – his entire arms, really – flew around to visualise his words, his eyes gleaming with excitement. His joy and anticipation were infectious, and she couldn’t help but smile as he talked about seeing the northern lights and endless ice deserts. 

“That sounds amazing,” she agreed when he was done talking. “I can see why you want to go on this expedition and not stay on this island forever.” She cocked her head, chin resting on her propped-up hands. “So, what’s the plan then? How long is this journey going to be? You won’t spend the winter up there, will you? And what are you going to do afterwards?”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “That would be pretty foolish, wouldn’t it? No, this is meant to be a relatively short expedition in comparison. Only four months, six at the most. Although, it already happened that the crew got surprised by an early winter and had to spend the icy months on another island. So it could be up to a year before I come back. And then… well, I don’t know yet. The thing is, I don’t necessarily want to leave Berk, you know? This is my home and I like living here. I just don’t want to waste away as some kind of bureaucrat, or at least not without having tried something else first. So… I guess I’ll see?” He shrugged, a little sheepishly. 

“I think that sounds reasonable,” Astrid reassured him. Then she put on a sad face, clearly exaggerating. “But I’d hoped to see you around more often now. And now I hear you might be gone for an entire year? That sure is a disappointment.”

He raised an eyebrow, a lofty half-smile on his lips. “Is that so?” He leaned closer, close enough for his breath to caress her skin as he spoke. “Well, I won’t be gone forever. You could always...  wait for me.”

Snorting, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Don’t count on that.”

. o O o .

A gust of wind came from the north, cold and unforgiving, and Astrid pulled her cloak tighter around herself. But even as she was watching the waves as they rose and fell, breaking against the hidden rocks beneath the surface, her thoughts were somewhere else. 

In her mind, she relived that evening when she’d met Hiccup, everything still so clear in her mind even after all this time. The night had burned itself into her memory, irrevocably. Forever. 

She still marvelled at how easily they’d bonded, from strangers to friends in merely a couple of hours. 

And then so so much more than that…

. o O o .

Astrid couldn’t say at which point their friendly bantering had turned into outright flirting. But all of a sudden she found herself throwing him heated looks through her lashes, biting her lips and grinning inwardly at how it made him suck in his breath every time again. Hiccup wasn’t unaffected by the change of mood either, the intensity in his eyes growing every time they dropped to her lips. 

Astrid had struggled for all her life to interact with other people, but with Hiccup, it was different. It was like a dance, easy and simple, natural. Back and forth, a teasing comment here, a light touch there. When her leg brushed against his beneath the table, more or less accidentally, and he bit his lip in response, she wanted nothing more than to tug it free with hers. She imagined how his mouth, so easy to twitch into a grin, would feel against her own, how his eyes would look burning with passion. She wanted to hear her name drop off his lips, wanted to feel his work-roughened hands on her skin. She felt as if she already knew him but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know everything. 

When the room slowly cleared, most guests having left by then, Hiccup looked around wistfully. “I think it’s time for me to leave, too,” he sighed, then added with a chuckle, “It’s gotten later than I planned to stay. Good that my bags are all already packed for tomorrow.”

Astrid felt a strange pang in her chest. She didn’t want to part from him, not yet. But he was right; it was too late to stay any longer. She had no doubts that Cami wouldn’t refrain from kicking them out eventually. 

She accompanied Hiccup to the entrance area where they had to part, him to head back to his father and her to head upstairs to her room. They were both reluctant though, fidgeting.

“I… guess I’ll see you around then,” she eventually said with a somewhat sad smile on her face. “When you’re back, I mean.”

Hiccup gave her an unreadable look before he nodded with a similar expression, though warmth filled his eyes. “I’m looking forward to it.” Then he nodded her goodbye and turned, heading for the door. 

Astrid didn’t think. It was pure reflex that made her follow him and made her grab his arm to pull him back around, pure instinct that made her stretch until her lips clashed with his. It took him less than a heartbeat to react, his head tilting to kiss her back and his arms winding around her. Before she knew it, she felt the wooden wall against her back, his hot chest against her front. His hands were on her waist, her back, so warm and holding her so tight. It was everything she’d hoped for. She sighed, pulling herself closer against him, deeper into their kiss. He gasped against her mouth and she seized the opportunity to slip her tongue out, tasting him. His woodsy scent of wind and leather surrounding her made her dizzy. It was perfect.

They only parted when they needed a break to breathe but stayed close, foreheads resting against each other. 

“Stay,” she murmured into the small space between them. Her hand was gliding down from his hair, along his neck, his jaw, feeling rough stubbles. Her thumb brushed over his lower lip. She didn’t want to part, wanted to stay this close to him. Wanted to kiss him some more.

A moan rumbled from deep inside his chest, something between longing and desperation. “Astrid, I–” he groaned, but whatever sensible reason he wanted to bring up, she didn’t want to hear it. Instead, she silenced him with a finger over his lips. 

“Just for this one night. Don’t leave just yet,” she whispered, then added more quietly, “Please.”

. o O o .

The sun had risen higher by now. 

Smiling softly, Astrid leaned her head back against the tree branch, enjoying the light and the warmth on her face, the sounds of the waves, and the cries of the seagulls far above her. 

In her mind, she was reliving that night which had been, without any doubt, the best of her life. She’d thought that there had been some deeper connection between her and Hiccup before already when they’d talked for hours in that brimming tavern room. But that had been nothing compared to that night in her bed. Exploring hands on skin, getting to know the other, and whispered words, her name on his tongue like a prayer. Endless kisses, some deep and passionate, others soft and sweet. The way they’d matched so perfectly. 

For all her life, Astrid had prided herself as being realistic and practical. She’d never been one to believe in soulmates, love at first sight, or other romantical nonsense like that. 

Not until that night.

. o O o .

Astrid woke to the light of early dawn, as usual. But instead of most other days when she would start her day without delay or wasting time, today she felt like not leaving her bed at all. She just felt too comfortable with Hiccup’s arm heavy around her waist, his chest burning against her back. She’d been right the night before, being encased in his embrace was fantastic. 

With a content sigh, she snuggled closer against him. Soon, they would have to get up; Hiccup had a ship to catch, after all. But not yet, they still had a few minutes. And she didn’t intend to miss out on even one of them. 

Hiccup was awake; she could tell by the changing rhythm of his breathing. But it took him a while before he said or did anything. Then his arm around her tightened, and with his face buried in her hair he mumbled, “What have you done to me?”

Astrid chuckled, the vibrations doing interesting things to where they were touching. “You already forgot? Was it too much alcohol after all?” It hadn’t been, she knew that well enough. After the second round, they’d only drunk water. Besides, she was pretty sure that last night had been as memorable for him as it had been for her. 

Hiccup snorted, but his amusement didn’t last for long. He shifted behind her until she could roll onto her back, then leaned over her again, looking down at her with those intense eyes of his. His hand came up to brush aside a wayward strand of her hair, caressing along her brow and down her cheek. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he murmured, swallowing as his fingertips reached her lips. 

He didn’t need to elaborate; Astrid knew exactly what he was talking about. This night had been the beginning of something good, something true and powerful. She could feel it deep inside her, thrumming and glowing, so warm and light. It could become something real – but it would need time to grow. 

And Hiccup was about to leave in only a few short hours.

She could see his struggling, saw how troubled and torn he was. She knew what she hoped for him to decide, but then… 

“Yes, you do,” she murmured in a serious but also sad tone. “What was it your grandmother said? Follow your heart,” she reminded him lightly, using the words he'd said the night before.

Slowly, Hiccup shook his head. "I… I just don't know what it wants anymore," he said quietly. 

She let out a hiccupy sigh. Oh, yes, she knew what she wanted him to choose. But she also knew, deep down, that it would be the wrong choice.

Her hand reached up to absentmindedly trace his features. “It's not so difficult," she whispered. "Just think about how excited you were only yesterday. You want to see the world, remember? And you’ve waited so long, all those days you spent at the shore. So you’re going to leave with the Night Fury today. And…” she paused, chewing on her lip. “And we can figure out everything else when you’re back.”

Gasping out a small laugh, he nodded. “Right. Except that I shouldn’t count on you waiting for me, if I remember correctly.” He chuckled, but then quickly became serious again and let his head drop until it rested against hers. “I don’t know whether this is the right moment to say this,” he mumbled. “It feels… strange. It’s not even been a full day, after all. But Astrid, I have to tell you that… What I mean is… I-I think I lov–”

She cut him off with a finger over his lips. When he pulled back, there were so many emotions crossing his face. Most of them, she felt, too. But it was too soon… 

“Not now,” she whispered. “Don’t say it, not yet. Wait until you’re back. Tell me when you’re sure about it and when I have the time to react properly.”

Chuckling, he nodded, the warmth in his eyes nearly causing her to melt. “Okay.” 

When the first rays of sunshine fell through the window, they got up and dressed, though reluctantly. Their time was running out, and despite her words of encouragement, she simply didn't want to part from him. 

"I better go now," he eventually sighed. He was a little breathless from the kiss they'd just shared, his hands resting lightly on her waist. As if they belonged there. "I need to get my bags and I at least have to say goodbye to my dad before I leave."

Astrid nodded against his chest but didn't reply. She didn't fully trust her voice not to break.

"The Night Fury is going to set sail in two hours," he eventually went on. "So maybe… if you have the time, I mean, then you could…"

With a smirk, Astrid pulled back to look at him. She'd wanted to tease him a little, but when she noticed his cautious expression, her face softened. 

"I will be there."

. o O o .

Two hours.

Two hours before the Night Fury would set sail.

Two hours in which Astrid properly unpacked her bags, ate a tasty breakfast, and wandered around in the town of Berk to get familiar with its narrow alleys and old houses.

Two hours in which she missed Hiccup more than she was willing to admit.

More than once, she found herself pondering about whether she should try to find him, to talk to him. She had no idea where he and his father lived, didn't even know his surname. But if she asked after the house of the chief or mayor or whatever title his father held, then surely someone would be able to point her in the right direction. It would be simple. 

But she didn't do it. Not because she was nervous or afraid of how he might react, though. No, she feared what she might do. Because she knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to hold him tight and not let go again. She wanted him to stay, might even beg him not to leave. Four months weren't even that long, but right now, it felt like an unbearable eternity.

So she stayed away, even contemplated whether to go to the harbour at all. But she'd promised she would be there and she really wanted to see him one last time before he left.

It wasn't difficult to find the harbour nor had she any problems identifying the Night Fury. It was a large ship, mostly black, and there was a considerable crowd at the docks in front of it, giving their farewell to the crew. At first, she feared to have problems finding Hiccup among all these people, but it was an unnecessary fear. Her eyes found him immediately.

As if something inside her had known where he was. 

He was kneeling next to a wheelchair with an elderly woman in it, presumably his grandmother. They were hugging, the old woman giving him an affectionate kiss on the cheek which Hiccup returned without hesitation. The sight made Astrid smile.

Then Hiccup looked up, his eyes landing on her as if he'd known she was there. His face brightened and he quickly excused himself before jogging toward her.

"You came!" he gasped before kissing her with a passion that would leave no uncertainties about their relationship in those around them. One hand was at her waist pulling her close, the other cradling her cheek, and Astrid felt safe and cherished like barely ever before.

"Of course I did," she replied, chuckling. "I promised, didn't I?" 

Her eyes wandered over his shoulder and landed on his grandmother a few steps behind him. She was smiling at them, the joy in her old eyes genuine. 

“I told her about you.” Hiccup had followed her gaze. “And I think she likes you.”

Astrid squeezed his hand. “Do you tell her about all your one-night-stands?” she asked, teasingly.

Hiccup frowned, but only for a moment before his expression smoothed. “No, I don’t. But… Astrid, you’re so much more than that. You know that, right?”

She hummed and leaned against his chest. She wanted to be as close to him as possible, for as long as possible. Hiccup seemed to feel the same, holding her in a tight embrace. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he eventually mumbled into her hair. He pulled away a little, his eyes searching hers. “I… I could stay, you know? I don’t have to leave. I could tell them that I changed my mind. My dad would be thrilled. If… if you want, I mean...” He trailed off, shrugging and waiting for her response, his eyes burning into hers.

Astrid’s heart was beating in her throat. She’d been thinking about whether or not she should ask him to stay, and now, here, he was offering to do so? She had to close her eyes, her hands at his back clenching into his jacket. 

“No,” she whispered. “No, you have to go.”

“Why?”

Oh, he sounded so vulnerable, so hurt. Trembling, she opened her eyes again, a reassuring if sad smile on her lips. 

“Not because I don’t want to spend more time with you,” she reassured him. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to see where this–” she gestured back and forth between them, “–will lead us. But… but I don't want this… our future... to be built on you giving up your dreams.”

Hiccup took a deep breath and then nodded. “Okay. Okay, I see your point. You’re right. Very prudent of you.” He chuckled. “Those are going to be the longest – hopefully – four months of my life though. And… well, here’s hoping that I’m not wasting my one and only chance right now.”

Chuckling, Astrid shook her head. “I have a confession to make,” she said, grinning. 

“Oh?” Hiccup cocked his head, one eyebrow raised.

“Yeah…” She held his gaze. “When I said you shouldn’t count on me waiting for you… that was a lie.”

Swallowing, he got a little closer still. “Is that so?”

She nodded, smiling. “It is. Hiccup, I’ll wait for you, no matter whether it takes four, six, or even twelve months for you to come back. I will be waiting for you.”

His eyes flared up with joy, bright and blazing, before he leaned in for another kiss. It was deep and fierce, almost indecent with the way he all but curled around her. Astrid was giggling into his mouth, happiness like a condensed bubble surrounding them. No, not happiness. It was something else, something warm and strong. This morning, she'd kept him from saying it out loud, but that didn't mean that she wasn't feeling it, too – no matter how little sense it made yet. It was still there, this powerful feeling blooming in her chest, like soaring through the sky, light and free. 

Love.

"I wasn't completely honest either," he murmured after… she couldn't even say how long. Just now, his lips had been pressed against her forehead, but then he pulled away, his eyes brimming with emotions.

"Oh?" Astrid replied in the same way he had, lips twitching.

Hiccup nodded. "I said you don't live up to your name… but that was a lie. The truth is… it doesn't do you justice."

She blinked, then burst out laughing. "That's got to be the corniest pick-up line ever!" she giggled.

Hiccup chimed in, chuckling as his hands reached for her own to idly play with her fingers. "Still true though."

Still trembling with silent laughter, she shook her head at the romantic dork in front of her. Her dork. 

Before she could say anything, however, the ship's loud horn echoed through the harbour.

"That's my cue," Hiccup murmured wistfully. "I need to go."

Astrid nodded mutely and took a step backwards, actively keeping herself from holding him back. He followed her though, his eyes serious as they deeply looked into hers.

"Wait for me," he murmured, his voice low. "Wait for me along the shore. Please."

“I will,” she promised, reassuringly squeezing his hand. “I’ll wait until you come back.”

. o O o .

Astrid took a deep shaky breath. As always, her eyes were cast out toward the horizon. 

Searching for a black spot to appear.

Waiting as time passed by...

. o O o .

Time passed surprisingly quickly. 

Days became weeks, and Astrid settled into her new life. She had her own rooms in her aunt's house where she took care of her in-between working on her book. She went grocery shopping, prepared their meals, cleaned the house, and enjoyed long conversations with Helka. Three times per week, she drove her to meetings with her friends, and even though Astrid was still very much 'the new one', she nonetheless felt accepted by Berk’s population – especially by Hiccup's grandmother Bruna who happened to be one of Helka's closest friends. 

Every now and then, the elderly woman would pull her aside and tell her stories about her grandson. How curious he’d been as a child, not content until he’d explored every last corner of the island. How stubborn he could be when he’d set his mind on something. A trait he shared with his father. But he was also sweet and caring, reliable and honest. And with every story she heard, Astrid fell more in love with him. 

Every day, she spent at least one hour at the northern shore, gazing out over the waves and looking for a certain black ship. It was too soon, she knew that. It would still be many weeks or even months before he came back. But she enjoyed the solitude, the chance to dream of him and to picture their future in her mind. It should feel insane; they'd really only had that one night. But there still was this connection between them, that feeling of security and warmth. She couldn't wait to explore it further, to let it grow.

One day, she felt strange, though. It was about a month after he’d left, and she’d just woken up after a turbulent stormy night. A look outside the window told her that the wind had barely lessened as it hadn’t for days now. She stayed inside all morning, but it made her feel queasy, anxious. Restlessly, she walked over into the kitchen and checked the fridge and cabinets. They were all well-stocked, there was no need for her to leave. No good reason to go outside in this weather. 

But did she need a reason?

“I’m going to the shore,” she called to where Helka was reading a book. 

Her aunt looked up, one eyebrow raised even as her lips twitched. “I’d recommend you not to, but I know you wouldn’t listen anyway. So I’ll just tell you to be careful not to get blown away.”

Smiling to herself, Astrid wandered through the wind. The shore was a good walk away on the other side of the town, but nothing she couldn’t manage on foot. And she’d been there every day since Hiccup’s departure; it felt wrong to stay away. And really, the longer she walked, the better she felt. The strange queasiness in her belly had nearly disappeared by the time she reached the town’s centre. However, when she spotted the unusual crowd that had gathered at the harbour, the anxiety from before came crashing down on her again. It was too soon for the Night Fury to be back.

So, what else had happened?

When people spotted her, they made way for her, murmuring and not meeting her eyes. Astrid stumbled forward, looking for a familiar face, for someone who’d tell her what had happened. Eventually, she spotted someone, and it took her a moment to understand how she’d been able to overlook him until then. Stoick Haddock, the mayor of Berk and Hiccup’s father, who usually towered over everyone else, was kneeling on the dirty ground, crying in anguish. 

Something inside Astrid clicked, but she refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she slowly stepped closer, searching for any hints or signs that her conclusion was wrong, that there was another explanation for this man to show his emotions so openly. She’d almost reached Stoick when a frail hand closed around her wrist. When she looked up, she saw into Bruna’s pale green eyes. They looked… broken.

“I’m so sorry, child,” she whispered, her hand around Astrid’s arm shaking. “But… the storm. It’s been the strongest in years. The news just reached us. It capsized and sank. The ship. The Night Fury. There… there were no survivors.”

Around her, the world was spinning in circles. Astrid stared, shocked, at the old woman, her mind refusing to accept the truth. 

“No,” she gasped. “No, that’s not true. It’s not possible! We… we wanted… No!” She stumbled backwards, shaking her head as her vision got blurry with tears. The queasiness from before returned with force, and the last thing she remembered was that she was puking her guts out onto the paving stones a moment later.

. o O o.

A warm breeze blew from the west. It caressed along the back of her neck, felt almost like the touch of a lover. Astrid tilted her head, leaning into it, and smiled despite the lonely tear that ran down her cheek. 

Ten years. Ten years had passed since that one night she’d had with Hiccup. But in moments like these, she still missed him. 

Absentmindedly, she reached up to where she could feel the memory of his touch, closed her eyes to listen to the echo of his voice in the wind. 

Wait for me along the shore. 

She had, every single day. People had told her to move on, maybe to even move away. But she’d stayed, had kept her memories close. Some called her crazy for still coming here where she could swear that she saw his outline in the mist, heard his voice in the wind, felt his touch and his presence. And they were probably right, she mused. But that wouldn’t keep her from coming back tomorrow. Here on the shore, she felt close to him, as if he was here, waiting for her to visit him. 

When she eventually stood up, her eyes landed on the ring on her right hand, the sunlight catching in the carved stone. It wasn’t a wedding ring, of course, it wasn’t. She’d never even gotten the chance to tell Hiccup that she loved him, at least not to his face. And yet, this ring felt like a wedding ring. Once, it had been Bruna’s engagement ring and that of Hiccup’s mother after her, and Bruna had passed it on to Astrid when she’d died five years ago. 

Her hands were trembling when she lifted them, brought the ring to her lips to breathe a soft kiss on it. “I love you,” she whispered into the wind.

Then she straightened, wiped the tears away, and after taking a deep breath, she walked back home. 

It promised to be a wonderful day, sunny and warm. Many people were up already, greeting her with friendly smiles as she passed by. She stopped at the market place and bought some bread, apples, eggs, and a book she spotted at one merchant’s stall. On her way back home, she felt light, the sun warming her face and the cries of the seagulls accompanied her all the way. Yes, people had advised her to leave after what had happened, to start anew. But how could she leave a place that had so quickly become her home? Even after Helka had passed away two years ago, she’d never even thought about leaving, not once. Besides, it wasn’t just about herself anyway, not just her who felt at home on Berk. 

“Zephyr?” she called upon entering the house she’d inherited. “Are you up already?” 

“Of course I am!” came the reply, the eye-rolling nearly audible. “I’m over here. Breakfast is ready.”

It had been a valid question in Astrid’s opinion. While the girl was always full of energy and practically always up and about, she was also prone to forgetting the time, staying up until late in the night, and then sleeping in until noon. Something she’d inherited from her father, according to Stoick. 

“Thanks, honey.” Astrid smiled at the set table, then went to hug her daughter tight.

“Mum!” Zephyr complained. “Can’t breathe!” But she giggled, returning the hug with all the strength the nine-year-old girl had. 

Astrid savoured the moment, needed it to get grounded again today. The anniversary had brought up memories, sad and good ones. But all in all, happiness overruled the sadness in her life. 

“I brought you something,” she said as they sat down to eat. “I spotted this book on the market. It’s about constructing and manufacturing, and I thought it would be interesting for you.” She waved out of the window to where they’d repurposed an old shed into something of a workshop. 

“Oh, really? Thank you!” Zephyr’s eyes brightened with excitement

The sight gave Astrid a sting in her heart. Zephyr just looked so much like Hiccup with her auburn hair and the freckles all over her face. She might have inherited Astrid’s blue eyes, but even the expression in them was entirely Hiccup’s. 

She had to fight to not let her daughter see her pain, didn’t want to dampen her joy. But as it was, Zephyr’s face fell on its own a moment later anyway. 

“What’s up, honey?” Astrid asked. “Something bothering you?”

Zephyr shrugged. “Nothing, just… Well, grandpa said that I shouldn’t waste my time with stuff like this. Something… something about it having done enough damage already. I think he meant… because of Dad.”

Astrid sighed. She knew how Stoick felt about anything regarding science and engineering, about studying and doing research. In his mind, those things were the reason why Hiccup was gone now. But Astrid couldn’t see it that way, remembered all too well how happy and excited he’d been when he’d talked about his dreams that night. What happened had been an accident and could just as well have happened with him going fishing instead. 

Smiling encouragingly, Astrid reached for her daughter’s hand. “Being curious and learning what interests you is a good thing. Don’t let your grandfather talk you out of what you want. Do you know what your father would tell you?”

Zephyr shook her head, listening avidly. 

Astrid closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. It would be easy to feel like Stoick, to be bitter and resentful of what had taken Hiccup away from her. But somehow, she didn’t have it in her to feel that way. His curiosity and excitement had been a part of him, and trying to take that away from him would only have been another way for him to die. 

Of course, she often thought about how her life would have been if he was still with her. With them. She missed that life, the lost opportunities. But all in all, she was happy. And even though she sometimes regretted her decision from ten years ago – to encourage him to go instead of begging him to stay – her reasons back then still rang true. 

Even now, as she looked at Zephyr, waiting and looking at her with those same intense eyes, she had no doubts about what Hiccup would say. She could picture him so well, the excitement on his face, and even thought that she could hear his voice saying the words.

“Follow your heart.”

 . o O o .

AN:  I want to leave the interpretation of the end to everyone individually. Should Astrid have made Hiccup stay? Knowing what we know, it seems like the answer is clear. But without knowing that, would it have been better if he’d given up his dream for her?

And what about what Astrid sees and feels at the shore? Is that really Hiccup, his spirit watching over her? Or is it just her imagination, just wishful thinking?

And then... Those last three words there at the end… who said them? It seems to have been Astrid, but is that true? Maybe it was Stoick instead, realising that his granddaughter was just like her father and that, maybe, it had been the restrictions that had made Hiccup take that more extreme measures.

Or… or could it have been Hiccup? Maybe he survived after all? Maybe he lost his memories or got lost. And it took him ten years to find his way back.

I’ll leave it up to you to decide which version is yours. Or are there other interpretations? I’d love to hear them. :)

...

So, now this is done... I wanted to write something hopeful, despite the death, and I hope that worked. As so often, this oneshot was inspired by a song. It’s Spirit Of The Sea by Blackmore’s Night, and this Hope between Despair is what I always connected with this song, ever since I first heard it over 20 years ago.

* - . - * - . o O o . - * - . - *

If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

#Hiccstrid #fanfiction #httyd #steel wool #romance #fluff #hurt #comfort #hope #bittersweet #Hiccstrid Week 2020

[okageshadowkingfannovel]

Book 1: Chapter 2

The next night finds Ari and his curious family standing together in the living room. Framed ancestors peer down upon their descendants with haughty seriousness. A fire dances and crackles in the fireplace, driving away the chill seeping through the house’s bones and playing a snappy percussion to the family’s musings.

“Hmmm … the crest is … I think … hmmmm,” says Ari’s father, furiously rubbing his chin to redness in thought.

The family stands around the mysterious, moaning, moldy, still quite unopened bottle. The purple clashes violently with the swirling beige pattern of the antique rug and it starts to give Ari a headache. Ari’s mother giggles.

“You’re obsessed with that bottle, dear. You always did love antiques.”

Ari’s mother is too right. The whole family - mother, Ari, Annie, and even grandmother and grandfather - have been called into the living room to try and puzzle out the bottle with the unbudgeable cork. They have been standing there for at least an hour and a half.

“I still say we just smash it open,” Ari’s grandfather pipes up from the couch.

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s right, honey.”

“No, no, Dad, this is no ordinary bottle. It’s special, so you have to open it in a special way.”

Ari’s father doesn’t see the dramatic eye roll making its way around the room.

“Oh! You know what?” Ari’s mother suddenly exclaims, “I just remembered. The circus is in the field tonight.”

“Hmmm, the circus,” muses Ari’s grandfather, “you know, I was in a circus before we got married. But back then, we were in true love. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s right, honey.”

“Yes, yes, Dad, very romantic,” says Ari’s mother, “but Ari, Annie, why don’t you go and have fun?”

“Alright, Ma, see ya!”

With a whip of her perfectly set pigtails, Annie turns to run off.

“Oh! Annie! You shouldn’t go out alone at night. Go with your brother.”

As if waiting for this opportune moment, Annie looks over her shoulder and gives a triumphant smirk to her mother.

“It’s ok. Chad is picking me up. I’m going out on a date tonight.”

The words ‘Chad’ and ‘date’ wash over Ari’s mother like some divine tidal wave. She looks at her daughter, her eyes sparkling with joy and pride.

“Oh Annie! You’re going on a date! You’ve grown up! I’m so happy for you!”

But Annie is gone before the praises can even reach her. Ari’s mother collects herself with a few sniffles and a dab or two at her eyes with the end of her sleeve.

Ari turns to leave as well, but is stopped by his father.

“Ari, my son! Let’s talk for a while, boy!”

The phrase is saturated with paternal sentiment and Ari gets a brick like feeling in his stomach that this will take much, much longer than just ‘a while.’ Like the dutiful son that he is, Ari about faces and returns to his spot before the bottle, by his father’s side.

“Ahem, this bottle … this bottle,” his father begins.

“It’s pretty awesome,” says Ari half-heartedly, “I mean, the color … purple is so cool.”

“Oh! You can tell! Good! Listen, this crest on the bottle.” His father gestures vaguely at the tangled design. “If my theory is correct, this crest is in the shape of the tail of the Rainbow Rat that only comes out by moonlight, namely …”

“Oh, um, and?”

His father carries on, speaking quickly and unleashing all the excitement that has been building ever since he found the ridiculous bottle with the long back story. To his credit, Ari sincerely tries to understand his father’s retelling of the bottle saga, but he can only catch and fathom every fifth sentence or so.

“… Among those ancient rituals is …”

“… and the curve of the handle is …”

“… foretold by the shoelace weaver …”

“… with the proper harmonics …”

“… all you need is a little garlic …”

“… at 200 degrees for an hour …”

“… No, wait, let me see …”

“… Then, yes! No … no …”

“Then, it’s simple quantum physics.”

Some time later, the question “do you understand, son?” reaches Ari and it takes the boy a minute to realize he’s actually meant to respond to something.

Ari glances at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace.

Two hours have passed.

The rest of the family has disappeared and the fire has shrunk to embers.

“Oh, th-the circus …” leaves Ari’s mouth.

“Huh? Circus? Oh, the circus! Yes, the circus was tonight, I remember. Well, don’t just stand there. Go and have some fun, boy! We can talk more about this tomorrow.”

“Thanks, dad,” Ari says quickly before launching himself out of the living room.

He throws himself out the front door into a dark, cool night. The moon is full and golden yellow, hanging high in a star filled sky. It’s all quiet save for crickets and the breeze rustling the trees and Ari’s harsh panting as he runs. Ari leaps down the stone path to the front gate, hoping he hasn’t missed it. Maybe he can catch the grand finale. That’s always the best part anyway. Maybe he’ll be able to find Julia.

Following the pale moonlit path, he comes to the crossroads and turns towards Tenel Field. There’s a clearing off to the right from the path, tucked away in Tenel Forest. Usually, all that sits there is an old stone circle with a massive pillar sticking up out of the middle. It’s ancient and harmless and it doesn’t take up a great amount of space. Tonight, it would be joined by a massive tent and loads of people and the sounds of an amazing performance.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who’s there?”

Ari stops and suddenly notices the sentry standing guard. He must’ve gone too far and missed the clearing.

“Geez,you scared me, kid,” says the man on sentry duty. He’s a skinny, pale young man that looks barely able to stop a squirrel, let alone a ghost.

“Sorry,” Ari wheezes.

“Anyway, it’s dangerous to go out there at night,” he says, gesturing behind him, “man, I can’t believe I got this shift tonight when the circus is in town.”

“Right, sorry.”

Ari turns and runs back to where the clearing should be. Somehow, he had run right past the banner hovering ghost-like over the smaller pathway leading into the clearing. As he draws closer to the hulking black silhouette of the circus tent, it strikes Ari how quiet it is. There is no laughter or cheering or the thunder of applause. There’s not even the babble of chitchat as people spill out into the night and head home. Ari’s heart sinks.

Before the yawning entrance to the darkened circus tent stand Levi, Julia, and, off to the side, a short, portly man with a thick black mustache and a tall top hat. Assuredly the ringmaster, he looks incredibly tired and drained. Ari trots to a defeated halt in front of his friends.

“Oh, Ari,” starts Julia, distracted by the sound of Ari’s exhausted panting, “good evening.”

“Hey Ari, what’s going on? The circus is over.” It can’t be seen in the dark, but the smugness on Levi’s face drips into his words. “Ha ha ha! You’re such a loser! You always miss out!”

Ari looks at Julia and tries to make out the expression on her face in the dark, dark night, but he finds it unreadable. She doesn’t say a word.

“Anyway, come on, Julia. I know a place with a great view. Let’s take a walk. We’ll see you later, Ari.”

“Um … bye, Ari,” Julia whispers as she and Levi circle round him to stroll on down the path.

For a moment, Ari watches their figures disappear into the dark. He wonders if he should have said something. But then, if so, what could he have said. He sighs, his lungs still aching from his race to the clearing.

“Ah, nothing beats a drink after work!”

Ari looks to see the pudgy ringmaster tilting his head back and raising an ambiguous looking bottle to give himself a long drink. After a long and fairly impressive moment, the ringmaster finally lowers the bottle and punctuates with a hiccup, a burp, and a satisfied sigh. Then, the ringmaster turns a bit.

“Huh? Hey kiddo, circus is already over,” says the ringmaster in a not unkind manner.

“Yeah, I figured,” says Ari gloomily.

“By the way, …” The ringmaster takes a few steps closer.

Ari can suddenly detect the smell of popcorn, peanuts, sweat, and high proof drink clouding off of the ringmaster’s person. By the light of the moon, he can suddenly see the polka dots on the man’s tie and vest and a strange haunted look in the man’s large, round eyes.

“Kid, did you know that your spirit seems a bit … I dunno, overshadowed?”

Ari gives an exasperated huff. “Yeah, I guess.” The social tragedy of tonight weighs heavily on him, and Ari is not really in the mood.

“Everybody tells you that, huh?” The ringmaster fidgets the bottle in his hand, making the liquid inside slosh and swirl.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing it up.”

“Ha ha ha, calm down, kid. I don’t mean to rattle your chain.” The ringmaster’s demeanor suddenly takes on an air of concern. “But, watch yourself. Stay strong, kiddo. Heh heh heh.”

The ringmaster ends with a hearty chuckle and another long swig from his bottle.

“Right,” says Ari as he turns to walk back up the path, “have a good night, sir.”

“Will do, boy, heh heh,” calls the ringmaster, “take care!”

With hands in pockets, Ari slowly makes his way back to the main path and heads towards the crossroads. As he walks, his mind fills and drowns with all the ‘overshadowed’ business that always seems to buzz around him. Heck, even the ringmaster, a complete stranger, picked it off him in barely the blink of an eye. Is he really so ordinary, so unmemorable, so unnoticeable?

Overshadowed?

What a crappy night.

“Omigod!”

Ari looks up from his shoes. The cry came from just up ahead at the crossroads. It sounded like Annie’s voice.

He breaks into a run. Just in front of the directional sign, Ari catches two human figures - one standing and one lying on the ground. And then, looming over them …

“Oh no! It’s-it’s-it’s a ghost! It’s a ghost!”

A huge misty white cloud with glowing yellow eyes bobs up and down over the couple like a drunken fish.

“Somebody! Help!”

The standing figure suddenly goes running back towards town, leaving the other still lying motionless on the ground, at the mercy of the wandering specter. The realization punches Ari in the stomach and he feels the blood drain from his face. That’s Annie lying on the ground.

Without thinking, he charges the ghost, a guttural yell ripping from his throat.

To his surprise, this actually works.

The yellow eyes fall on the screaming boy and widen in what might be surprise. Mid-bob, it spins round fast and drifts off into the trees, fading away into the night air and the dark.

“Ari?” Suddenly, his father is running down the path from the house. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Unable to get the words out, Ari crashes to his knees beside his sister. He puts out his hands, but is afraid to touch her.

“Annie? Oh god, Annie!”

His father gets down beside him and gently touches the girl’s small shoulders.

“Annie? Can you hear me? This is your father. Annie! Open your eyes!”

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 16 - Finale

NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.

#okage shadow king #osk #boku to maō #playstation 2 #novelization #video games #writing #fiction #fanfiction

[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [13/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47690671

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #fatal flaw #secrets #riddle #fate #revenge #oracle #betrayal #prophecy #jealousy

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Tim feels a little bad about using Jason’s skin hunger against him but only for a moment. Any concern about that vanishes when he peeks back at Jason as they walk, and observes the color returning to the other man’s cheeks. The hand clasped in his own stops shaking the longer they touch.

Tim has never been one to enjoy holding hands—often he’s felt uncomfortable or self-conscious, worrying about sweaty fingers or whether the other person might consider it lame—but this doesn’t feel like that.

This feels right.

It’s actually concerning how right it feels, especially in light of his recent discussion with Steph.

Stop it. This isn’t about you. It’s about putting Jason at ease.

They return to the containment unit to find Barbara facing down Eros—an impressive feat considering she’s in a wheelchair and he’s the one looking down on her. Her face is drawn in irritation, and he’s gratified to see that Eros seems put-out about something.

“Took you long enough. Cherry here says she’s got a bonafide prophecy from the Oracle of Delphi and wouldn’t share it until you got back.” He eyes their entwined hands and leers. “I take it the domestics are going well?”

“Get bent,” Tim snaps in irritation as Jason tugs his hand back so fast he might as well have been burned.

“Only if you do the honors, pretty boy.”

Jason growls and makes a move for his gun, but Tim reaches out to stop him.

“Can you not tease him?” he demands of Eros. “Especially when the only reason he’s like this is because of you.”

“Oh, if only you knew…”

Before Tim can comment on that, Jason interrupts.

“What’s the feathered freak talkin’ about?” he snaps, radiating tension. “What prophecy?”

“The one Signal was able to recover from the girl that was killed,” Barbara says coolly. “He transcribed it and sent it along. Do you want to hear it, or do you want to keep acting like a child?”

This she directs at Eros, who actually does look chastised a beat, before gracing her with a cool smile.

“I guess it is apropos if you do the honors, darlin’,” Eros says with a cool smile. “Is it ironic or coincidental if someone who stole the title of oracle interprets a prophecy from the actual Oracle of Delphi?”

“Who cares? This whole situation is making me hate both irony and coincidence,” Tim says.

“It’s making me wonder if there are any coincidences,” Jason mutters, eyes fixed on Eros in intense dislike.

Barbara offers him an identical look, before thumbing the screen of her phone and opening her incoming messages.

Then she begins to read:

“The Unseen darkness cannot keep its captive thrice for mortal masks the divine that seeks its reward in the city where dark nights conceal the greatest of secrets.

“Crossed beneath the stars when the Rager’s Moon is full, eternal freedom is neigh upon the eleventh moment of the small hour.The sacrifice of the virgin gifts triumph to the prisoner and that which drowned in Lethe’s tears is reborn.

“But take heed, for the winged scion of Cythera, willingly blinded by the veil of vengeance revealed by Discord’s most cursed boon, awakens the warrior guided by the Physicians heir.

“Fury dooms the fair, heralding the return of magnificent Alexandros and one whose name is painted in blood and stone.

“Greatest of loves, damned by the gleam of a golden barb, torn asunder by jealousy and parted by cruel death, they will stand against Strife.

“Titans will rise and one who Death names hero, betrayed yet shielded by love, will sunder the chains of Aidoneus and avenge the victim of grievance. One will be born anew, the other bound eternally to Stygian Darkness.”

There is silence as she puts the phone down, eyebrows drawn together in thought.  

“What?” Tim says.

“I see your ‘what’ and raise you a ‘the fuck’,” Jason adds. “Does any of that make sense to anyone else? Because it don't make sense to me.”

“Blame my uncle,” Eros says, apparently annoyed.

“What? Why?” Tim wants to know. “Which one’s he?”

“Apollo,” Barbara says, still considering the puzzling words on the screen. “Aside from being a sun god, he was also the god of prophecy.”

“Talking in riddles is his favorite pastime,” Eros agrees. “It’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’ll bet,” Tim agrees. “We’ve got someone like that here in Gotham.”

“Yeah, and he’s a frequent guest of Arkham, so what’s that tell you?” Jason grumbles.

“That people who come up with riddles have too much time on their hands.”

“There’s a reason the Oracles of Delphi didn’t put their predictions into simple words,” Barbara points out. ”If you give people information about what’s coming, how do you know you’re not ensuring it will or won’t come to pass? It was important for them to be seen as the medium of the message and not an agent.

“By keeping information vague, it would seem like they were allowing a querant the chance to defy fate, while at the same time allowing fate to take its natural course, whatever that might be,” Eros agrees. “Ans it was good insurance. Even Oracles needed to cover their asses. You were less likely to get your head lopped off by a visiting king that received news he didn’t want to hear. And whatever the outcome, they could still say, ‘we told you so’.” He considers Barbara. “You know, I don’t usually find brainy sexy, but you might just turn me.”

“I’m thrilled,” she deadpans.

“So what’s all this supposed to mean, anyway?” Tim asks, trying to bring the discussion back to the matter at hand.

“It could mean anything. Though to start with, that bit about ‘unseen darkness’, that’s an epithet for the Underworld in old Hellenic documents.”

“We called it that in the old days,” Eros confirms.

“And then there’s the part about someone captive in Hades.”

“I thought Hades was a person?” Tim says.

“It is. But it’s also a place.” Jason tells him.

“It depends on what story and what source you’re drawing from,” Barbara elaborates. “And what translation.”

“What about the next bit? About mortal maskin' the divine?”

“Could that mean whoever’s possessing Carrie Cutter?” Tim suggests. “We’ve already established she’s got help from a god, and if they’re inhabiting her body even for short amounts of time, it’s a pretty effective mask.”

“No doubt,” Eros agrees. “Not so sure about that part with dark nights, but I guess it’s referring to this cesspool you people call a city.”

Tim, Jason and Barbara exchange glances, knowing exactly how dark nights and secrets relate to their city.

Maybe Duke misheard. It might not be dark ‘nights’ so much as dark ‘knights’. Which makes sense, considering Bruce and Dick both have that title depending on the day.

“Safe to say it’s Gotham,” Tim confirms. “So all that begs the question, do you have any idea who’s locked in the Underworld trying to get out?”

Eros snorts. “The better question is who isn’t locked in the Underworld.”

Jason is glaring furiously at Eros, clearly growing tired of his evasive and snarky answers. The way his fists clench, Tim suspects he’s close to throwing a punch at the glass in frustration. Not something Tim wants to see, especially given Jason’s injuries from their altercation with Carrie Cutter and Dick haven’t even been seen to yet.

God, it feels like it was days ago but it was only hours. He probably came right here to confront Eros without even looking after himself.

He has to put that out of his mind for now. Deciphering any clues in the prophecy takes momentary precedence.

“…. A lot of myths end with someone displeasing a god and getting sent to Tartarus, so he has a point,” Barbara is saying, her thumbs busily texting something on her phone.

“So that’s not going to tell us anything,” Tim decides. “What about the ‘crossed beneath the stars’ part?”

“More of the same in terms of pinpointing when everything is supposed to happen,” Eros says.

“Which is when?”

“November twenty-third,” Barbara says, frowning at the small screen in her hand.

Jason looks askance. “How d’you know?”

“'Moon’ equates to month, and another name for Zeus was the Rager,” she replies. “So, Zeus’s month. According to the Athenian calendars we still have access to, Zeus’s month was Maimakterion—which in modern times would fall somewhere between November and December. And the next full moon—” She holds up her phone, showing a lunar calendar for the month, “—falls on November twenty-third. It’s the only full moon that falls during Maimakterion.”

Eros nods along in approval. “What she said.”

“And the small hour?”

“Midnight.”

“So, whatever’s supposed to happen is going to happen eleven minutes after midnight…assuming that’s what moment means,” Tim muses, glancing at his own phone calendar. “That’s this Friday.”

“Five days from now,” Jason agrees, and side-eyes Tim. “We’ve all had shorter deadlines.”

“That’s not necessarily referring to your deadline, sweet cheeks,” Eros reminds him. “I figure you have about half that.”

“No thanks to you.”

“You know, the last Jason I knew wasn’t this whiny.”

“Children,” Barbara says sharply. “Let’s stay focused, shall we? I’m concerned about this virgin sacrifice part—specifically the part where it ensures success for someone we probably don’t want to succeed.”

“Cutter did kill that girl,” Tim reminds them. “Maybe it was some kind of offering, so she’d be successful at whatever she’s trying to do.”

“It’s a good an explanation as anything else,” Eros agrees, examining his nails. “We always did love our human sacrifices. And a virgin does increase the likelihood of something working out to your advantage.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Jason growls. “That’s a kid you’re talking about!”

“And as an Oracle of Delphi she’s entitled to an eternity of bliss once she enters the Underworld,” Eros dismisses. “It’s a better end than some people are entitled to.”

Jason’s eyes blaze as if that’s a personal insult. Tim can certainly empathize.

“What about the second part?” he prompts. “What’s Lethe?”

“The Lethe was the river the souls drank from to forget their previous lives before being reincarnated,” Barbara explains.

 “The Ancient Greeks believed in reincarnation? But I thought that was something from the Far East?”

“Many ancient cultures had a concept of reincarnation beyond the Hindu and Buddhist mythos,” Barbara explains. “Just look at the belief systems of the indigenous peoples of North America and you’ll see countless examples. And they didn’t have any contact with the civilizations of Asia during the time when those faiths were evolving.”

Beside Tim, Jason is as stiff as a board and appears to be having trouble breathing. Automatically, Tim edges closer to him, and though he doesn’t outright take his hand—he leans into him, nudging him with his shoulder.

Jason’s eyes dart to him for a moment, and he relaxes incrementally.

“How does that relate here though?” Barbara wants to know.

“Maybe the prisoner forgot something,” Eros suggests, not sounding very interested.

“Or maybe whoever’s tryin' to escape Hades as made to forget something,” Jason counters darkly.

“Only mortals can be made to forget by drinking from the Lethe,” Barbara says. “The prisoner could have been human. Salmoneus or Tantalus or one of the Dainads.”

Tim doesn’t even get a chance to question who they are before Eros interrupts. “Actually, it’s a little broader than just mortals. More like mortals, demigods that haven’t consumed ambrosia, giants, hybrids—”

“So again, we’re back to a broad spectrum of people it could be talkin' about,” Jason complains. “Great. Is there anyone or anything in this stupid prophecy that isn’t doublespeak?”

“Well, the next verse is pretty self-explanatory. Obviously, we’re talking about yours truly,” Eros says, pointing at himself. “What other 'winged son' do you know from mythology?”

“A case could be made for Pegasus.”

“No, it’s Eros,” Tim says. “Cythera’s another name for Aphrodite.” Everyone looks at him in surprise.

“How do you know that?” Jason asks, but where the emphasis ought to suggest incredulity, he sounds impressed.

Tim tries not to bask in that.

“My parents used to visit the island of Cythera a lot when they weren’t on business trips, especially before I was born. It was their favorite vacation destination. Full of history, not touristy—they didn’t like having to socialize with people when they were on vacation.”

Tim falls silent then, remembering sitting in his living room with his parents, pouring over their vacation photos of the Mediterranean island while they told stories. They’d always promised to take him one day…

He glances up and notices the others are watching him now—Eros with a sharp, calculating gaze while Jason appears concerned. As for Barbara, she seems to sense his discomfort, because she navigates them past the lull. “Okay, so if it’s Eros, what are you wanting revenge for? It’s not exactly your M-O.”

“I can think of a few people who have it coming,” Eros answers. “Starting with my mother.”

“What’d she do?” Tim asks.

“Do you have a few centuries worth of couch time?”

“Isn’t she the reason your wife died?” Barbara wants to know. “In the myth, she survived, but Tim told me that's not what happened in reality.”

Eros expression goes cold.

“That’s right,” Tim remembers; he and Eros had this conversation a few days ago, didn’t they? “Aphrodite is the one who sent Psyche to the underworld.”

Eros bares his teeth. “One of her many sins, but not the only one.”

“Then couldn’t the prophecy maybe be referring to her? Psyche, I mean? Maybe she’s the prisoner.”

“Are you implying my wife is the one behind your Cupid’s actions?” Eros growls. “Because that’s impossible.”

“How would you know? It could be—”

“Because she died a mortal! Her soul is mortal and wouldn’t have the power to escape the Underworld in any capacity! Furthermore, Psyche would never kill or arrange the death of anyone! She was good and pure of soul and that’s why I fell in love with her.”

“That’s not what I read,” Barbra says. “Didn’t you prick yourself on one of your golden arrows while watching her?”

“I pricked myself because I fell in love with her,” he snaps. “I’ve already told Jason here that the arrows only work to magnify emotions that are already there.”

“That makes no sense. You liked her before you made yourself fall in love with her?”

“Look, you know the story: Psyche was beautiful. So much so, that the idiots in her kingdom started treating her like a living goddess, bringing the gifts meant for my mother to this human princess. You can guess how well that went over.”

“Right. She sent you to make her fall in love with a horrible beast.”

“Yeah, one of Diomedes mares. Gorgeous animals—people would stop and stare at them for hours. Also, vicious, flesh-eating beasts. Just getting to close to one of those and it would have ripped her to shreds—and she would have stood there and let it.” Eros’ expression becomes soft, eyes faraway at the memory. “If she had been some arrogant, selfish royal I would have let it happen. But I watched her for days while I tried to put her in the path of that thing. And everything she did was just good and kind. I had never seen as pure a soul like hers.” He shakes his head. “The idea of a girl like that being sent to her death just because a bunch of idiot humans had the audacity to praise her alongside my mother didn’t seem fair.”

“And you’re all about fair, aren’t you?” Jason sneers.

Tim has to agree; if Eros cared about fair, he would have been a lot more helpful about curing Jason and wouldn’t have demanded they find his diviners beforehand.

“I was young and stupid, and I didn’t realize the world didn’t work that way,” Eros dismisses. “Even for gods. I thought my mother would never want to harm me—and so if I put Psyche under my protection, she couldn’t hurt her. And if I could show my mother what a good wife Psyche was, even if she was unable to see me, it would prove the point.” He snorts. “It didn’t exactly go my way.”

“And there’s no way her soul could have somehow been corrupted when she died?”

“The Underworld is stagnant. There’s no such thing as change or time there. Everything occurs both in one moment and in all moments there.”

“So you’re saying a soul going in would remain in the same state as it was when it died,” Barbara posits.

“Exactly. How else do you expect the judges to judge souls if they kept changing after death? It’d be a headache.

“Then if it’s not Psyche, who else can you think of that it might be?”

“It might be more than one person,” Tim suggests. “That line about 'greatest of loves'—what if that’s why Carrie’s been targeting couples? She hears the prophecy—or whoever’s riding along inside her hears the prophecy—and thinks there’s a couple out there that’s going to stand against her. She could be trying to eliminate potential threats to her end goal.”

“If so, we need to decipher her criteria for choosing her victims. You already said it didn’t seem like they had anything in common.”

“We’ll have to check again. Maybe now that we’ve got this prophecy, something new will jump out.”

“We skipped a whole verse,” Jason points out. “The ‘warrior guided by the physician’s heir’. Any ideas?”

Eros shrugs. “Since the rest of the prophecy involves me, I’d say it’s me.”

“How do you figure?”

“The Physician is another name for Apollo.”

“So?”

“So, who do you think taught me archery? Next to him, I’m the greatest archer among the Olympians.”

“Or it could be Jason,” Tim ponders.

Jason seems to go pale, almost panicked. “What?”

“I mean, assuming you’re interpreting ‘awaken’ by activating the way you do with a sleeper agent. You infected him with your blood however accidentally and then pressed him into doing your dirty work.”

“I resent your tone, boy,” Eros grumbles, but Jason interjects, “And the other bit?”

“The other bit is just really literal,” Barbara catches on. “Jason, you were trained by Batman. Who was the heir to an actual physician. The M.D. kind.”

Thomas Wayne.

Jason looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information. “Shit.”

Eros watches Jason, inscrutable eyes considering; Jason glares back at him as if waiting for him to make a comment.

“But if it’s Jason, the next bit wouldn’t make sense,” Barbara says after a moment. “‘Magnificent Alexandros’. The only Alexandros I can think of off the top of my head if Alexander of Macedon. But that doesn’t really track with the rest of the verse. He was a historical figure, not mythological.”

“That’s offensive, you know,” Eros drawls. “All those stories you call mythology actually happened.”

“Then why don’t we have an archaeological record for them?”

“Because screw you, that’s why.”

“If it is talking about Alexander the Great, Robin will be happy,” Tim says with a rueful smirk.

Jason is perplexed. “Why?”

“Apparently he was on the list of the kid’s League-approved childhood heroes. Mother-son bonding time seems to have included traveling in his footsteps as preparation for world domination.”

Jason looks surprised and amused. “Really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“No, it’s just…” Jason shakes his head. “Never mind.” He clears his throat. “So, back to the prophecy. It talks about the Titans—are we talkin' the creatures the Olympian gods overthrew?”

“Well, whenever one of us mention the Titans, it is usually those bottom feeders rotting in Tartarus, yes,” Eros says dryly, inscrutable focussed on Jason. “Them going free is never a good thing. Don’t believe me, read the Titanomachy. Hesiod got it pretty close to right.”

“Could be the goal, could be the result,” Tim suggests.

“Which brings us back to possibly being on the lookout for more than one prisoner escaping Hades,” Barbara says.

“And all of that leads us to the typical ‘one shall live and one shall die’ device,” Eros concludes.

“Only we don’t know who either of those is.”

“I can tell you now if it’s a prophecy involving me, I have no intention of dying."

“If it’s even about you. It’s not really an exact science, interpreting this sort of thing,” Barbara warns. “Even an Olympian like you can misunderstand—there’s evidence of that in the myths. In fact, I’m sure we’re missing more than is good for us. It will take some time to decipher it and we need more information.”

“At least we have something,” Tim maintains. “The exact date when it’s going to happen and where. We can begin preparing for that.”

“It’s a whole hell of a lot to think about,” Jason agrees.

“Which you can do back at the Cave. We only came here to see if Eros could shed some light on the prophecy or see the arrows.”

“What arrows?”

“Wonder Girl told us that to reverse what’s been done to Nightwing is to remove the arrow that Carrie stabbed him with.”

“Uh, there is no arrow,” Jason says. “Cupid took it with her, remember?”

“I guess that answers that question,” Barbara sighs. “You can’t see them.”

“Of course he can’t,” Eros says. “I’m the only one that can see the wounds caused by my arrows. Even this pseudo-Cupid wouldn’t be able to see them.”

“After she stabbed Jason she seemed to be looking for something, so I’m not sure about that,” Tim argues.

“She can’t see them. Though it may be possible her divine passenger might. I don't know. Never had another god take my diviners before."

“Speaking of being stabbed,” Tim goes on, nodding at the bruises coming out on his face. There are likely more hidden by the leather jacket and gear. “You should get those looked at.”

“I didn’t physically get stabbed, you know. Magic wounds don’t need to be looked at.”

“You went toe-to-toe with an enhanced fighter and Batman. You could have internal bleeding for all we know.”

“If you think a little tussle with that dick is going to do lastin' damage—”

Tim cuts off his indignation. “I don’t, but you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly, and your system is already compromised, so how do you know what damage was or wasn’t done? You didn’t stay to get treated at the Cave.”

Their eyes meet, remembering exactly why that is, and Tim’s cheeks darken. Jason is the first to look away, though.

“It’s nothin'. I can patch myself up whenever.”

“I can help—”

“I’m good.”

“Jason—”

“I’m an adult and I’ve been treatin' myself without help for years now,” Jason interrupts tensely. When Tim can’t stop himself from flinching, Jason’s eyes flash with dismay. “I mean…” He flounders like he’s trying to take it back, and instead changes the subject. “Didn’t you say somethin' about a list? Maybe get started on that and I’ll do an injury check myself.”

It’s a clear cop-out, and if they were alone, Tim would be calling him on it.

“I’ll ask for help if I need any,” he adds, awkwardly, like it’s been a long time since anyone actually cared about his injuries being treated. 

Barbara glances between the two of them, obviously sensing the undertone, but not commenting on it. Instead, she says, “I don’t mind helping Jason. Besides, Red Robin needs to contact the Family and let them know what we know.”

“And I need food,” Eros says. “I haven’t eaten since before you went on your little reconnaissance mission. Can’t you see? I’m wasting away.”

 “If only,” Jason mutters.

Tim is torn, wanting to argue that he can help Jason, but at the same time trying to respect the other man’s obvious need for distance.

At last, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little defeated. “Let’s take a break. I’ll make a food run…you get yourself fixed up.”

“Whatever you say, babybird.”

⁂

Once Tim vanishes, Barbie indicates with a jerk of her head that Jason should follow her upstairs to the Nest medbay. He knows better than to think it’s just her wanting to take a look at his injuries—like him, she’s probably looking for some privacy.

They take the elevator up in silence, and Jason wonders vaguely when the last time was, he was this close to Barbara Gordon.

I don’t think I have been, actually. We both avoid the manor unless there’s no choice. And we both have good reasons for it. And when we are there together, there’s usually about six to ten feet of distance between us.

They were never what he would call close before she was paralyzed and he died. Barbie was Dick’s girl and Jason’s occasional babysitter until the Joker ruined her life. And then she wasn’t around at all. Jason wasn’t alive to watch her painstakingly drag herself up and pull it together again, so he never got the chance to interact with the Barbara Gordon that became Oracle.

Since returning to Gotham he’s kept her at a distance as much as he did the rest of the Family, so it’s somewhat surprising to him that she’s here now and working to help him.

Probably it’s on account of Tim.

Still silent, they enter the surgically pristine room of the Nest’s medical wing—and Jason is a little jealous of the supplies here. It makes the kits he has in his safehouses about as sophisticated as a needle and threat.

Barbie watches him, framed in the doorway.

“Well? Spit it out,” he grunts, deciding to get whatever reprimands are forthcoming out of the way.

Her look turns sharp before she reaches into her jacket pocket for something; Jason can’t help tensing up, even though she knows the likelihood of her pulling a weapon on him are slim to none.

That suspicion is confirmed when she instead draws out a device and turns it on; there’s a high-pitched background whir that Jason recognizes as a listening device scrambler.

Clearly we’re both aware of what a paranoid freak Timbers can be.

“Okay, Jason, what’s going on?” she asks without preamble. “You know Tim only wants to help you.”

“Yeah, at his own expense,” he retorts sourly.

Barbies raises an eyebrow as if waiting for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, she presses, “You’re being cagey. And it’s more than just worrying about losing control around Tim, I can tell.”

“Oh you can, can you?” he challenges.

“I’ve known you since you were still desperately trying to live up to Dick while pretending like you didn’t care. I know when you’re hiding something,” she folds her arms. “Believe it or not, Jason, you’re a terrible liar when it comes to things that matter.”

It’s reflex to want to say something caustic to that, but he stops himself in time. He needs Barbara’s help and pissing her off isn’t going to make his life any easier.

“I need a favor,” he admits after a beat.

“Another one?” she repeats, sounding like she doesn’t believe him. “You’re going to owe me a lot.”

“Yeah, well, now would be the time to collect on those debts while I still can.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means everyone else is tiptoein' around the subject, but at some point, I’m gonna need to be put under,” he says, erring on the side of just enough truth to keep her from questioning him further. “We both know what I’m talkin' about here.”

As expected, Barbara only just keeps herself from visibly recoiling; she’s already ready with an argument. “You don’t know we won’t find something before that happens.”

“I’m already feelin' like I’m livin' in someone else’s skin—” Literally, in a way. “—I’m not gonna get any better than I am right now. We’ve already seen what it looks like when I dip toward worse. So while I’m still lucid, let me make my decisions. And my decision is, I’d rather go under while I’m still me instead of violent, mindless…reaver.”

Barbara does a minor double-take. “Did you just make a Firefly reference?”

“It’s the last series I was watching before I died,” Jason says, a little defensive.

“I’m not judging, just surprised. Dick and Tim are usually the ones making pop-culture references to deflect. I’m not used to it from you.”

“And I’m not used to you stallin',” he counters. “You’re different from the other Bats, O. You know how to cut your losses, and you know how to make decisions when no one else wants to think about it. You get makin' the hard calls. So, I’m gonna ask you: when it comes down to a choice between me and Tim—and I mean when, not if—who do you save?”

Something like pain passes over her face, and then resolve hardens her face. “Tim.”

“Exactly,” he approves. “Because unlike me, he’s good. And smart.”

“You’re both of those things, even if you pretend like you’re not,” she protests.

“And he hasn’t committed multiple murders,” Jason continues, acting like he didn’t hear her. “Not that what I’ve done wasn’t justified. It wasn’t good, but I don’t regret it because I will go to my grave believin' sometimes that line needs to be crossed. Again. But it’s still a line Tim’s been lucky enough not to have to cross.”

She doesn’t argue with him, instead inclines her head.

“More people will miss him if he were gone then they would me,” Jason concludes. “I’m not supposed to be here anyway.”

There’s a long beat of measuring silence. Then, Barbara sighs. “What is it you need, Jason?”

He tilts his chin in gratitude.

“I didn’t just come here to yell at Eros,” he admits. “If Wonder Woman doesn’t show up, he’s the only one I know who has access to the stuff I need.”

“The Stygian Sleep.”

“Yeah. But it’s probably in GCPD lock-up.” He gives her a quick run-down of events, minus anything about Eros’ intentional plan to infect him. Babs listens, jaw set and eyes narrowed; given what she just said about him, she likely knows he’s not being completely truthful, but his explanation clearly holds enough water that she doesn’t call him on it.

“I’ll get someone to look into it,” she decides at last.

Which, even though he’s relieved about, he’s also suspicious.

“And by ‘look into’ you mean grab hold of and perform a million tests on it before handin' it over,” he posits.

“Just because you’re hellbent on using something that’s effectively going to kill you doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything about it first,” she says, unapologetic. “Like the prophecy, it might have clues about how to circumvent it.”

“Yeah, because we’re having so much luck with that.”

“Also, when Bruce comes to me later in a righteous fury for letting his son die a second time, I’ll be able to assure him we knew everything we did about it before making an informed decision.”

Jason doesn’t pretend to believe that’s the end of it. Barbara might be willing to humor Jason a little more than Bruce, or even Dick when he’s not compromised—she might even be a little more objective in considering things, but she’s not going to trust Jason’s plan to be the only plan. She’ll have her own contingencies, the same as any Bat.

The only difference with Babs is that once it’s over and done with, and it becomes clear there’s no saving him, she’ll have an easier time getting over it than Bruce will. And she won’t let it compromise her work.

Tim’s told Jason what Bruce and Dick were like after he died the first time, and if it happens again, Gotham needs someone competent in keeping things in check.

And Tim…

Jason’s heart thuds with guilt.

This time, Tim won’t just be sweeping in to pick up the broken pieces of Batman and Nightwing as he did as a kid. He won’t be watching it from the sidelines.

The memory hits him then. To his surprise, it’s not from Achilleus or Alexandros.

Jason hates Wayne Charity galas.

People are always staring at him, murmuring through pasted-on smiles that even if he couldn’t read lips, he would be able to hear the judgment dripping from their words. These people are so achingly dry and genteel, their teeth don’t even unclench around their vowels.

Bruce doesn’t make him come to all that many of these shindigs, thankfully; only the ones involving children’s advocacy and the like. Jason doesn’t mind those too much, considering their purpose. He just hates that even at those—like the one tonight—he’s the only kid that has to parade around in the straitjacket Alfred calls a tux.

He gets it, of course; he’s the poster-boy, the success story, a means of showing the rich snobs how well a dirty Crime Alley orphan can clean up so that they’ll open their checkbooks.

It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Except for tonight, for the first time, he noticed another kid that’s been dragged along. A tiny boy whose meticulously fitted tux still manages to look too big for him.

A man and woman who must be his parents are chatting with another couple, seemingly oblivious to the way their son is staring into the distance, a neutrally polite expression fixed on his face. He might as well be sleeping standing up, and Jason has the odd suspicion that’s by design.

That makes his mouth twitch; maybe rich kids get bored with this kind of thing too.

Jason keeps staring across the manor ballroom until the strange kid senses his gaze and looks up. He grins when the boy’s eyes widen—their color is startling, even from across the room, and they take up practically his whole face—and wonders at the sudden flood of color in his cheeks.

He’s about to motion the boy over to the edge of the reception area—hanging out with another kid, even a little one, will definitely break up the monotony of the evening—when Bruce’s hand falls hard on his shoulder.

“Time to make an exit, son,” he says, voice quiet and intense and incongruent with the false smile he’s still beaming at everyone within a ten-foot radius. From the distracted note in his words, Jason doesn’t even need to look out the window to see the signal lighting up the sky. 

They meet Felipe Garzonas that night, and he doesn’t think of the boy again.

Jason shudders as the technicolor recollection fades out, his stomach twisting angrily.

He’s never made the connection between Tim and the boy at the fundraiser before. It occurs to him how stupid that was—at the same time it occurs to him that if not for that case that night, he might not have been on the outs with Bruce. He might have endured more Wayne event galas instead of limiting whatever time he was with Bruce to being Robin by night. He might have gotten to know Tim in this life, instead of dying.

He might not be in this damned predicament right now.

“Jason?”

He looks up, realizes that Barbie is watching him with concern. He is quick to revisit their conversation and mutters, “Yeah, fine. Just make sure the stuff actually makes it to me before my brain dribbles out of my head, okay?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” she replies, reaching out to turn off the scrambler device, though she continues to exude suspicion.

“All Bats are dramatic, or have you forgotten?” he quips back, offering an irreverent smirk to cover up.

“Hard to forget something you live with every day,” she returns dryly. “Now get over here and let me check you over.”

“You don’t need to,” he points out. “I’ve had worse than this, you know.”

“Yes, yes, we’re all aware you’ve died and come back, who hasn’t these days?” she returns. “Now, shirt off, or I’m telling Tim you didn’t do what you said you would.”

Jason glares. “This is going to become a thing, isn’t it? You people using Tim to make me do things.”

“Things that are for your own good, yes. Now strip, Todd.”

“Yes, mother…”

“You wish your mother was as cool as me.”

Which Jason can’t argue with, because she’s right; he’s had a total of three mother figures in his life (two of which he’s not sure even qualify because of how messed up they were), and none of them have been as capable or decent as Barbara Gordon.

Once he’s shrugged his top half out of the body armor and leather, she reaches for him.

Jason experiences a nauseous swoop in his stomach at the idea of anyone but Tim putting hands on him. Instantly, his hand snaps up and knocks hers back.

“Don’t touch me!” he snarls.

Barbara pulls away, watching him with a raised eyebrow and instantly Jason is overwhelmed with shame.

“Sorry,” he bites out. “I didn’t mean…”

“We can wait for Tim to get back,” she suggests, instantly understanding.

Alarms blare in his head at the thought; he shakes his head. “No. No, I’m…I’m good. Now that I’m expectin' it.”

She considers him several beats longer and then makes the next attempt to check his injuries. This time he concentrates on forcing the sick feeling away and tries to ignore how it feels like someone is rubbing sandpaper across his skin.

That’s a new symptom. Great. Because it wasn’t enough that I’ve been trying to claw my skin of myself, now other people get to do it too…

Barbara checks him over with quiet efficiency, evaluating the shallow slash between his arm and shoulder which his armor didn’t cover, as well the bruising along his hips, elbows and lower back.

“It could be worse,” she decides eventually, considering the mottled purpling across his chest. “Ribs are bruised, not broken.”

“I could've told you that…”

“And were you going to tell me about that?” she points at his shoulder and the spiderweb of gold leeching out around the long-healed-over bullet wound. From the way he’s been itching at it this past day, he doesn’t need a mirror to know it’s beginning to creep up his neck as well. “How long has it been growing like that?”

“Pretty much since I got it,” he replies.

She reaches up, brow furrowed and reaches toward one of the raised lines winding toward his chest. Again, he braces himself for the pain of the touch his body doesn’t want.

Thankfully, she barely grazes that. “You haven’t been keeping better track, have you? It might give us a more specific idea of how much time you have.”

“How so?”

“The same as any poison, I would guess. The closer it gets to your heart, the less time you have.”

He frowns. “At this point, I don’t think it even matters.”

Movement outside of the med bay window draws his attention, and he across the floor to see Tim climbing the stairs from the ground floor.

Jason is quick to grab his shirt and tug it on; it’s not something he wants to discuss with Tim just yet.

Barbara watches him, lips pursed in worry and disapproval, but he could care less about the latter. She knows his thoughts on this, and she’ll respect them.

Tim strides in and then slows like he’s wondering if he’s supposed to knock or not.  

“How are you doing?” he asks, hesitant like he’s afraid expressing concern will set Jason off like a bomb.

Guilt hits him at that, but he forces himself to remain calm and blank-faced. “Fine.”

“I have to go,” Barbie announces, maneuvering her chair toward the door. “I need to go back to the Cave and check on Dick’s condition. I don’t know how long it will be before he tries to escape or pull something to keep from going nuts.”

“Also, it’d be nice if this month was one of the ones where Alfred doesn’t get knocked out,” Tim suggests with false levity.

“Or lose a hand,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Exactly. And whether he knows it or not, Feathers downstairs gave me some ideas about how to remove the arrow,” Barbie says as they leave the med bay.

“I should come with you.”

“No.” Both Barbara and Tim speak at the same time, but she’s the one that keeps talking. “You should stay here.”

“Not sure that’s the best idea.”

“I think it is,” Tim counters. “It will keep us out of everyone’s hair and they’ll know where we are.” His tone is reasonable—too reasonable; clearly Timmy has some ulterior motives.

Whether those motives are to circumvent Bruce or Jason’s plans, he doesn’t care. But one thing is for sure. “They can know where we are if we’re at the manor.”

And isn’t that a reversal—Jason being the one to insist on that?

I need to have people around because I don’t trust myself right now.

The mutinous expression is back on Tim’s face, before he visibly switches tactics.

“Okay, how about this,” he suggests, tone only a shade off exasperated. “Why don’t you go lie down somewhere and try to catch a few hours' sleep? If you’re sleeping, you’re not doing anything else, right? And then we’ll either go back to the Cave or see if anyone can be spared to chaperone here.”

“There’s no need for that,” a voice says, and they all look up to see Damian stride in still in full Robin-gear.

Tim scowls. “How did you get in here?”

“It was fairly simple,” the kid snorts. “A fish tank, Drake? Really?”

Tim looks like he wants to protest, but Jason chuckles. “It was kind of obvious, babybird.”

“You can barely take care of yourself, and you expect someone with a brain to believe you have the patience to care for fish?” the boy continues. “Exactly who do you think has been feeding them when you forget?”

Tim gapes. “You…break into my apartment…to feed my fish?”

Jason can’t help the loud guffaw that escapes at that, earning two equally unimpressed glares in return. He doesn’t care—that might be the funniest thing he’s heard in days.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Barbara says and wheels out of the room. “Try not to kill each other, boys. Alfred would be unhappy about it.”

“Luckily, we are standing in a well-stocked room with several methods for resuscitating a dead body,” Damian replies easily.

“Don’t you have school?” Tim grumbles.

“It’s Sunday, Drake.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“I have been sent to babysit you two and put Todd down with extreme prejudice should he try anything.

Which Tim gapes and, while Jason is…kind of relieved about.

“Aw, Dami, I knew you cared,” he teases.

“Don’t address me with that infantile drivel!”

Tim sighs.

“Just don’t set anything on fire while you’re here…”

  ⁂⁂⁂

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jaytimbingo2019 #fanfic #jaytim fic #batfic #tim drake #jason todd #barbara gordon #eros (new earth) #angst #drama #fatal flaw #secrets #riddle #fate #revenge #oracle #betrayal #prophecy #jealousy

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 3 ~Frankly Speaking~

Lallybroch always made Claire's heart lighter, and no matter where her travels took her, it was still home she looked most forward to. Her inheritance from uncle Lamb enabled her to travel, which he inspired in her when she was a child. Forever grateful to Brian and Ellen for taking her into their family, she offered part of her inheritance from her parents and uncle, to put towards the restoration of the hotel. Despite Brian's initial unwillingness to accept Claire's gift, which was deemed totally unnecessary, she had insisted on end until they had to finally succumb. She had been too stubborn to let go of the matter, and told them, she'll never wholly be part of the family unless they accepted her contribution. Now home at last and soon working for the family business, she couldn't be any happier.

"That was bloody gorgeous," Claire gushed, grinning at Jamie, as she cleaned her plate, eating every morsel of the Raspberry Mille Feuille with relish, including the garnish meant for decorative purposes. It was a favourite treat that Jamie had made, especially for her homecoming.

"Watch yer language, young lady!" scolded Ellen gently, her disapproving look quickly turning into amusement as she watched her foster daughter finished the dessert with enthusiasm.

Claire's penchant for swearing was acquired from time spent with her uncle Lamb at archaeological sites during summer holidays before he died. No amount of admonishment nor threats of her mouth being washed with lye soap by Ellen put an end to the habit.

"Sorry ma...everything was just so delicious," Claire apologised in a muffled voice, mouth still full with pastry and raspberry. "Absolutely fabulous homecoming - I'm so terribly spoiled. I should go away more often. And Jenny, the Beef Wellington was divine. I don't understand why you don't want to work in a restaurant. You're a fabulous cook, and you can give Jamie and Willie a run for their money with your talent," Claire said, her eyes twinkling as she winked at her foster brothers.

Jenny smirked feeling pleased, as she had always taken pride in feeding and taking care of her siblings. She hoped one day when she and her fiance Ian Murray are finally wed, she would have many children to take care of. "Did ye hear that, laddies?" Jenny eyed her brothers. "Good thing I didn't join the family business and become yer head chef. Not that Murtagh isna doin' a fabulous job, but home-cooked classical dishes are still the best, instead of those fancy cooking ye lads learn at yer swanky school."

Everyone on the large family table laughed, and Claire sat back and watched in contentment as the quibbles, banter and sallies carried on. Even Geillis had joined in with the raillery, and she was glad her friend mingled easily with her family with no awkwardness. That's not surprising though, as hospitality and conviviality were what the Frasers were known for whenever guests graced Lallybroch.

Ever since stepping into the threshold of the Frasers home earlier, Claire was engulfed with familiarity and belonging, but somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow something had changed. It didn't take long to figure out what was different - she knew it was Jamie. He was no longer the gangly and ungainly lad that left Lallybroch for France six years ago. Although they had kept in touch regularly, it was the first time they had seen each other in years.

When Claire first laid eyes on Jamie at the platform of the train station earlier, her breath had hitched. She was caught unaware of how much he had physically changed. He was broader, taller, and his body gym-honed, as a result of his daily workouts. Claire had always known Jamie liked to keep fit but seeing the result of his discipline was another thing. She was flummoxed by the newfound awareness of him as a man and how devastatingly handsome he looked. Although he had held her in his arms before in his brotherly way when they were younger, somehow being held by him at the train station was different. The feel of him was conflicting with her childhood memories, and it made her confused as unfamiliar sensations arose in her. Now, more than ever, she was conscious of everything that was Jamie, and every time he looked directly into her eyes, strange flutterings sprouted from her belly causing her to feel warm and tingly all over. 

At one point during dinner, she had unconsciously glanced at his lips as he sipped his wine, noting the few days' bristles of his beard, and she allowed her mind to wonder how many girls he had kissed. When her gaze eventually went to his eyes, she was mortified that he caught her staring. Looking away in embarrassment, Claire mentally scolded herself for thinking such things, and she thought, how appalled Jamie would be if he knew what was going through her mind. She tried to dismiss the strange sensations triggered by his presence as silly musings of those of teenage girls'. But it was futile as he was constantly nearby and just like when they were younger, he was tactile and demonstrative with his affections.  Brotherly love, that's all it is and nothing more , Claire thought.

She was brought back from her reverie when her phone beeped and buzzed.

"No phones on the dining table...ye ken the rules, Claire," Brian reminded his foster daughter, throwing a stern look her way.

Geillis' prying eyes, having a mind of their own, wandered onto Claire's phone screen which was placed on her friend's lap. She saw the name, bold and clear as the screen was swiped to read the message. "Oooh, it's from Frank!" she announced inadvertently in a soft voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Frank? Frank Randall?" Willie glanced at Claire with an arched eyebrow. 

Claire felt the heat creep up her face, as she never told anyone, apart from Geillis, that she had been in contact with Frank ever since that one summer when they met for the first time since leaving school. She had been secretly in love with him for as long as she can remember and had arranged to meet up once she was back home.

Jamie leaned closer even though he was sat next to her. "Sassenach, why does Frank have yer number?"

"Are ye seeing a lad?" Brian piped in, now curious and attentive to the conversation, as Claire was the only one in the family who haven't brought home a special someone.

"Och Claire, ye're blushing, dear...so ye have a boyfriend?" Ellen joined in, beaming. "Ye should invite him for dinner so we can all get to know him."

"Ma! He was a prick back in school!" Willie blurted, giving Claire a disapproving look.

"Language lad!"

"So, is he yer secret boyfriend?"

"Sassenach?"

"Is it a date and if so, why is he no' picking ye up?"

"Ye have a boyfriend?"

Jenny didn't utter a word, but her head snapped back and forth, watching the interrogation like she was watching a tennis match. And Geillis' only answer to Claire's frown was "Ooops."

"I don't have a boyfriend, alright!" Claire snapped, sounding a tad bit terse than she intended to. "He's an English guy who went to the same school as Jamie and me, and we're just texting. I'll be meeting with him in the pub later."

Everyone was silent for a few seconds until Jamie spoke up. "Sassenach, I'll drive ye to the pub...it's getting late, and it's dark."

"No, Jamie, I can go to the pub myself. I'm a big girl now, and I don't need a chaperone. Besides, Geillis is coming with me," she replied impatiently, trying to hide her mounting irritation of being put into a spot like a schoolgirl caught doing something she shouldn't.

"I am?" Geillis sounded happy at the prospect of going to the pub. She had always loved going out.

Claire nodded to Geillis, giving her a warning scowl to zip it.

"Claire! Jamie is just offering to drive ye to the pub. We all know you can take care of yourself..." Willie joined in, asserting his position as the older brother.

"I was going to the pub meself, so I thought I'd drive ye..." Jamie added, the furrows on his forehead deepening.

"How convenient!" she muttered, regretting her reply immediately. Jamie had always been nothing but sweet to her and Claire wondered why she was feeling guilty that he knew she was off to see Frank.

"What's that supposed to mean? And why are ye upset?" Jamie asked.

"I'm not upset!" she retorted, giving him a pointed glare. In actual fact, she felt unsettled, and she doesn't know why she should feel that way. Her family was just curious.

"Yes, ye are! How long have ye been texting Frank?" Jamie remarked, his face devoid of any expression.

Usually, able to read Jamie's mind, Claire wondered what he was thinking. It made him harder to read when his gaze is so intense that she daren't hold them for long.

"Da?!?" Claire looked at Brian imploringly, looking for support. She daren't glance at Ellen as she knew there would be questions in her eyes. And the last thing she needed was having to explain to her family who and what Frank was.  It was no one's business!

Brian let out a sigh as he dug out his car keys from his trouser pocket and tossed it at Claire. "Here, lass, take my car. Right, lads...back off now. The lass is right. She doesn't need any of ye hovering about especially if she's seeing a boy...that's her affair. She'll tell us when she's ready."

Catching the keys, Claire quickly slipped out of her chair and went to Brian to give him a thankful hug and a kiss. "Thanks, da." And before anyone could say anymore, she quickly left the dining room, signalling Geillis to follow suit.

"Mind, if ye have too much to drink, call one of the lads or a taxi. Don't want ye drinking and driving..." Brian shouted after Claire.

"Aye da, will keep that in mind," she shouted back, mimicking his accent, as Claire ran up the stairs with Geillis in tow.

..........

Jamie felt like he was punched in the gut when he found out Claire was meeting Frank at the pub after dinner. What he thought of his adolescent infatuation towards his foster sister as long dead and buried, had resurrected in full force as something more astronomical and immense. It was no longer an innocent teenage crush with dreams of holding hands, gentle kisses on the cheek and sharing a tub of ice cream, but something more deep-seated that was awakening inside him. Perhaps, it had been there all along, and distance and absence had prevented him from dwelling on his yearnings. When he had held Claire in his arms at the train station, he felt a pleasant stirring, and he so wanted to bury his face in her neck and feel the thrumming of her pulse against his lips. Claire had pressed her forehead against his as she told him how much she missed him, and if Willie and Claire's friend hadn't been there, he might have been tempted to kiss her.

But then there's Frank.  Damn him to hell and back.  He should have gone back to where he came from after he finished school, but instead, his family had stayed, and Frank went to study law in Edinburgh. Claire would undoubtedly like that about him, her being an intelligent girl and all. If memory served him right, she had told him a long time ago, she preferred the tall, dark and handsome type, and now, Frank was an academic, to boot. To make matters worse, he was no longer the reprobate that he used to be. He was actually a nice guy, and after his pupillage, he was on his way to becoming a barrister and most probably a successful one too.

For as long as Jamie could remember, he and Claire had no secrets. Even when he was in France, and she, in Switzerland, there were nights when they would talk on the phone for hours on end. She never broached the subject about boyfriends or relationships in her life, and when he did ask, he had waited with bated breaths for her answer. Her response was always, "I haven't found anyone special yet." If he was perfectly honest with himself, he dreaded the day when Claire would announce she was seeing someone. So, it must have been Frank all along all these years. How could he compete with someone that Claire was wholeheartedly devoted to? But on the other hand, unlike Frank, Jamie knew her like the back of his hand; he understood her fears and weaknesses, he could tell when something was bothering her, and the world wasn't right, he accepted and appreciated her flaws as perfections and endearing, he remembered all her favourites and dislikes. And most of all, he wasn't going to stand back and let some English sod steal his Sassenach right under his nose.

Jamie looked at the grandfather clock as he heard a car parked on the gravelled driveway. It was past midnight already. As he hadn't been able to sleep, he decided to watch a movie in the family TV room, which was once their playroom when they were kids. He got up and poured himself a treble measure of whisky before settling once again on the sofa. He could hear Claire and Geillis giggling as they made their way up the stairs. Half an hour later, the door opened.

"Jamie?" Claire walked in, wearing one of his old shirt and thick, red woolly socks. "I hope you don't mind...I went to your room and took one of your shirts. I've never been a jammies person."

He smiled and patted the sofa next to him before getting up. "Fancy a whisky?"

Claire nodded as she padded over to the sofa and slipped under the quilt Jamie had been using to keep warm. It was a cold night, and he hadn't bothered putting the fire on. "What are you watching?"

"Just flipping channels...nothing exciting," he replied, handing Claire a tumbler with a double measure of Lagavulin, before settling next to her under the quilt. Jamie knew she liked her whisky peaty. 

"Jamie, sorry about earlier. I acted like a brat. I have no idea what came over me..." Claire started as she turned to face him, tucking her feet beneath her.

"It's alright, Sassenach." Jamie raised his glass. "Here, slàinte mhath  and welcome back home," he said softly. "So, how was yer night out?"

"It was alright...it was great to see a few familiar faces. I talked to Frank, but he had to leave early because of some emergency at home. We're meeting tomorrow morning again for coffee." Claire shrugged as she swigged her whisky with an audible gulp.

"That's nice. So ye still fancy the lad?" He was swirling his glass and looking into the oaky liquid.

"If you mean if I'm in love with him... I don't know...well, I don't think so. I thought I was, until tonight. I've grown up loving the notion of being in love, and when you're finally faced with the object of your fantasy, reality doesn't really do it justice, does it? But I do like him, and he's changed a lot. And he seems to like me, so we'll see how it goes. I guess I've changed... people change, you know...just like Frank."

Jamie let out a deep breath he'd been holding in for long. He didn't want to look at her lest he revealed the jealousy he felt towards Frank. "I've changed too ye ken, but at the same time, I'm still me."

"Jamie as I said people change and those changes are more noticeable, especially you haven't seen them for ages. But what I don't want to change is what we have between us...I think what we have is pretty special."

This time Jamie shifted from his position and turned to face her. "Aye, Sassenach, what we have between us is quite extraordinary. What I want ye to know is, what I feel towards ye and what I know I have with ye, will never change. I promise ye that. Best ye don't forget."

Claire smiled for the first time since walking into the room. She put down her tumbler on the coffee table and arms wide open, she beckoned, "Friends again?"

Jamie rolled his eyes as he reached out and gathered her to his side, laying her head on his chest before kissing the top of her head. "Sassenach, ye clown. Of course, we're always that. Now shall we watch a movie?"

Claire snuggled closer, pulling the quilt around them and wrapped her arms across Jamie's middle. "Alrighty, you choose as long as it's not a war film," she replied, settling in a more comfortable position.

Twenty minutes later, the door opened. It was Jenny. "Hul-loh, ye two. I thought I might find ye here."

Claire raised her head from Jamie's chest, drowsily. "Oh hello, Jenny, want to join us? Enough space on the sofa."

"Och no, I'm going to bed. I just wanted to ask ye both if you'd like to go out for dinner tomorrow night? Ian had Italian in mind. I've asked Willie and Geillis already, and they said they're coming. So what say ye two?"

"Sassenach, fancy Italian tomorrow and maybe bowling after?" Jamie asked, smiling as her head bobbed, realising she must have fallen asleep.

Claire nodded. "That would be lovely... sounds fun."

"That's fab, it's a date then. Good night ye two!" Jenny winked before closing the door.

By then, Jamie sensed Claire had nodded off to sleep as she let out a faint snore. He pulled her closer to his side, relishing in her warmth and the feel of her body so close. Jamie tried to concentrate on the film and dispel thoughts of what Claire's nearness was doing to him. He wished she didn't look so damned provocative, wearing only his shirt. Part of her appeal was that she was so unaware of her own allure and charms. As Claire shifted, muttering incoherently, Jamie knew he was on a very short tether, strained and taut, that was likely to snap any moment. He needed badly to refill his glass with a good measure of whisky but didn't want to disturb Claire's slumber. He was just at the point when he was getting uncomfortably strained when the door opened again. It was Willie this time.

"Oh, it's ye both, I thought someone left the lights on," Willie whispered as he noticed Claire sleeping on Jamie's arms.

"Listen, Willie, can ye do me a favour and carry Claire to bed. I have an awful cramp on my leg and can't stand. I dinna want to disturb her."

"Aye, nae bother."

Willie lifted Claire effortlessly in his arms before saying good night to his younger brother.

The moment Jamie heard the door closed upstairs, he quickly got up and poured himself another treble measure of whisky or maybe more, and downed it in one go.  Christ Sassenach, ye'll be the death of me!

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[alias-b]

honey, i’m home (hold for laughs)

A/N: So, I’m taking a break from my long fics. Just to gather myself again. I’m having sort of a bad day and idk I wrote this to deal with some stuff. Just something rough I punched out quickly. A somber blurb character study for Martin Brenner and Lucy Garland from my Hopper/OC fic, LFTM. Brenner dreams that things could be different if he weren’t such a monster.

   It was the same dream. Night after night. Waking in a cold sweat. Rinse. Repeat.

  Sheets that still smelled of her perfume. Lucy had never stayed over. In this house that was too big. In this bed that was always chilled. But, she was in everything he saw. 

  Martin Brenner dreamed so deep, he woke in a pit every morning. Fingers shifting to feel for one caress of that supple skin. Tread into black locks. He wished sometimes that they never chopped it off. 

  She truly looked like a siren with black silk spilling over her warm bronzed shoulders. Eyes glowing even in the dark. A rich brown. Almost honeyed like amber. Lucy was warmth and she was fire and he longed to hold it within his palms. Watch it spill and burn this entire town down.

   That would have been breathtaking. 

  But, Brenner couldn’t have that. So, he smothered her. Pressed her like coal until she was a sparkling diamond instead. It was for the best. 

  So, he dreamed and tumbled. Woke before a smaller house, but it looked loved. Something out of a fairy tale in black and white. Surrounded by a lush garden of marigolds. Beautiful even if they’re all grey. 

  A place where the sun was always high framed with a white picket fence. Neighbors who smiled so wide they might crack. Waving in sync. Robotic in how they navigate.

  Martin always carried a coat and briefcase. Dons his expensive Italian suits. Taking in this perfect world of black and white. Same at the funny sitcoms he secretly enjoyed. Wondering if Lucy likes them too. If she’d curl up with him and watch.

  Steps took him up toward the door. Always unlocked. 

  “Honey,” Martin offered to the air, “I’m home.”

  Hold for laughs.

  And there she was. Materializing out of the kitchen with a wide painted smile. A little cinched polka dotted dress. Even a frilly apron. So pristine and untouched by this world. Martin figured the dress was a forest green only because he knew it was Lucy’s favorite color.

  “How was work, dear?” Lucy never stopped smiling at him. That much was always static. Hands reached for his coat to hang it up. She didn’t wait for an answer and slipped into his arms. Kissed him on the lips like she’d been waiting for his return all day. And she had.

  “Just fine.” Martin grasped her hips. Kept her pressed there flush.

  “My husband. Fighting all the bad guys.” She cooed. Another peck. “Dinner’s almost ready. I made your favorite. And I didn’t burn it this time.”

  Hold for more laughs.

  Lucy always made his favorite. 

  She went to the doorway, posed a little like a mannequin.

  “Kids! Your father’s home!”

  Steps rumbled down the stairs. Two children lined up in front of Lucy. Matching mechanical grins on their doll faces. 

  Martin recalled their names.

  The girl. Amanda. Dark brown hair and blue eyes. She must be about eight. Little spitfire. And her younger brother. Five years old. Martin. They called him Marty for short. Brown hair and eyes. Shy.

  “Daddy!” The children jumped at him. Holding so tight like they might fade at any second. And they would. Lucy was all smiles at the sight. Protected by these four walls. They were safe here.

  “Go wash up for dinner now.” She ushered them off, taking Brenner by the hand. A wedding ring sparkled same as the pretty pearls round her neck. “I made a surprise for dessert. Can you smell it?”

  “Is that cherry?”

  Lucy giggled. 

  “Isn’t it divine?” She shrugged and pulled out a pan. Some chicken and dumpling recipe his mother used to make. The pie came next. Piping hot in the window to cool. Glistening and lush. “That’s what fear smells like.”

  “What?” Brenner had started to roll his sleeves up. Eyes snapping. Lucy clasped her hands. Her face must have hurt with that grin plastered. 

  “I just said it smells so good, I could ruin my appetite right now. Couldn’t you, honey?” She gushed. 

  Hold for laughs.

  They gathered as a family. Looking around at these gifts. Happy. Sharing a perfect meal in a perfect little dollhouse. The child playing with them loved them too much. 

  “If you don’t eat your carrots,” Martin had to point at his son, “you won’t get dessert.” He smiled too like it was half a joke. Marty stuffed himself full and pie was served. “Don’t forget to thank your beautiful mother.”

  “Oh, stop.” Lucy playfully smacked the hand from her hip. “I’m just happy to have a beautiful family.”

  Martin could swear he tasted this rich meal. Succulent cherries hot on his tongue.

  The rest of the night was clockwork. Get the children ready for bed. Storytime with daddy. Plenty of soft kisses goodnight. Lights out.

  Lucy lotioning herself at the mirror in a little pink nightie. Martin’s mouth on her shoulder. Kissing her dizzy until she was up and in bed. Mounting him in nothing but those pearls. Them trying to stay as quiet as they could because the children were sleeping. Her tuckered body falling in next to him, spent. Blissful.

  “We could have another baby.” Martin suggested. “Another little girl.”

  “I always liked the name Jane.” Lucy mused. Haunted, he peered at her there against the pillows. Naked skin dewy and soft. “You look like you've seen a ghost, darling.”

  “You know what’s going on, don’t you?” His head lifted to see her clearly in the dim lamplight. “You know this isn’t real.”

  “Of course, it’s real, baby.” Her hand touched his cheek. “I’m real. Feel that?”

  “You can’t love me.” The stinging thought welled his eyes.

  “But, I do. I always will.” Lucy kissed him all better. “Do you feel it? Do you love me too?”

  “Yes.” Brenner pulled her impossibly close. Lips trailed over her neck. “I love you more than anything.”

  “To the moon and back?” Lucy melted into his frame. Sighed.

  “Yes.” Martin had gasped it because he wanted it all so bad. This dream. This love. Felt Lucy in his bone marrow. That fire. A crack.

  Lucy’s skin broke like glass. A mirror fracturing out. Martin felt her sag back into the bed.

  “Honey, I don’t feel well.” A little porcelain doll breaking to perfect pieces. Ashes seeping out instead of blood. “Can you hear that? It’s a symphony playing just for us.” 

  “No, Lucy, you stay right here. With me.” Brenner brought her into his arms. Felt her quiver and shake. The horrid sound like nails on a chalkboard when her skin broke apart.

  Lucy’s never able to stay.

  Hold for laughs.

  It broke his heart every single time. Seeing her shatter.

  And he knew it was all on him. Everything. He did this. He broke her. Lucy trembling to ashes. Sinking between his fingers.

  Hold for laughs.

  The children are always shattered in their beds too. Safe and sound from him and this world of rot.

  Brenner felt his chest filling with cries. With screams and bellows to stop the torment. It all became ashes and he mourned it. Even the marigolds. 

  It shouldn’t ache this profoundly. Martin Brenner with his pressed suits and pristine hair. The world to save upon his shoulders. Floating through science and logic. He could have let Lucy Garland go that day in his office. Could have let her blossom.

  He doesn’t regret it. The greater good demanded all the sacrifice. He told himself that like a mantra. Lucy had to burn and become something greater.

  But, when she looked into his eyes and lied so politely…

  Nothing in his life hurt like her sweet deception.

  He cannot love in full and she will never be his. Even if she sinks into his arms willingly. It’s all painted like those damn sitcoms.

  Hold for laughs. Scream instead.

  The dream’s ending was the same too. Lucy weeping softly. In the garden burying a pie dish with a bloody beating heart inside.

  Martin never has the chance to figure who the heart belongs to. But it’s the only splash of color in this muted, artificial world. Lucy cried over it and brought the ruby red into his dreams. 

  Waking, Brenner gave a start. Breathed deep to capture life again. 

  Felt around.

  Lucy would not be here.

  Sometimes he dreamed of her naked and holding that knife above him.

  It felt better than nothing. Maybe he had that coming for carving her out of marble against her will.

  Brenner turned in darkness and smelt the perfume even still. The torment he brought this world turned back at him the day Lucy Garland walked into his office with those starry eyes. 

  He didn’t blame her, he deserved to die. Martin always knew that deep down. He owed Lucy a life debt and she would collect one day down the line.

  Martin Brenner only hoped she’d hold him as the end came. Saving the world was a thankless job.

  Liked to think maybe he earned that much. One pair of warm arms and a heart beating in his ear. Dreamed that something in Lucy could love him back just for a second. One perfect second where there were no ashes between either of them. Maybe she could forgive something and sleep better after too.

  There was true hope in his soul that she could. This love. It would grow. Rot. Spread. Kill.

  He dreamed something prettier for both of them.

  It was only fair. When he laid his head down, the dream would come again like a silent monster. Make a fool of him because he still believed in it every single night.

  And the only courtesy he could do was hold for the damn laughs and let Lucy Garland slip through his fingers. Smell her perfume and cherry pie again because she was a craving he’d never lose.

  Not until she killed him.

  Sometimes when Brenner walked the path in that perfect black and white world and looked at those swaying marigolds, he knew she already had. Martin would remember to thank her for it one day soon.

  Hold for laughs.

#Martin Brenner #Lucy garland #idk why i wrote this I just wanted to #mine #writing #LFTM #Brenner x lucy

[rowenaaclark]

The One where Adrian’s a Hufflepuff

Promised to post for the likes of @padsmcfoot and @unsuallyfurry - Here’s a Bloodlines HP AU solo fic drabble!

Adrian wandered down the candlelit hall, whistling to himself.  Portraits of witches and wizards long past eyed him suspiciously as he passed by, as the time of night was odd for even Prefects to be out and about. 

He never thought he’d end up in any sort of leadership role here at Hogwarts. He had never aspired to it, nor did he think he was even capable of such a task. In fact, he’d been quite happy somewhat bludging through his time at Hogwarts, scraping through his OWLs by the skin of his teeth. Professor Sprout had sat him down however and given him a long talk about why she thought this was an opportunity for him to not only take some pride in his character, but learn about responsibility and what it means to look out for one’s own classmates. 

He’d palmed it off at first as a joke, but the old witch just gave him a smile as she ushered him out of her small office. “I see great potential in you, boy. You just need to see it for yourself.”

A familiar cat sat on the windowsill, just down from the Hufflepuff dorm entrance, its black tail flicking petulantly. Adrian grinned, turning from the dorm entry and walked over to lean on the windowsill by the animal that almost blended into the night sky outside. 

“You know someone will eventually catch on when they realise you don’t actually have an owner here,” he murmured to the cat, offering it his hand to sniff. It was quickly batted away though by it’s paw, shaking their head in almost disgust at the gesture. “Aw puss, don’t be like that now. You won’t fool anyone with that attitude.”

He grinned as the cat stood up and shook out its fur, before transforming into the shape of a teenage girl, her long legs draped outside of the window and long dark hair catching the breeze. 

“I must admit the cat form is great, but you definitely look stunning this evening Miss Clark,” he said, folding his hands together. She all but hissed at him, running her wand across the ends of her hair, returning them to their usual lavender hue. She hated the fact she had to hide the colour half the time, but she knew a half purple cat would draw more attention to herself when she transformed. 

“I can’t wait until I perfect the spell so I can do it at will, though. McGongall says this month looks good for a storm after the full moon to finish off the incantation. Transfiguration is one thing, but I can’t wait until I get this Animagus form down,” Rowena said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

“But then you have to register, and think of the trouble you’ll get in then if anyone catches you out this late.”

She grinned at Adrian, a mischievous glint in her eye. “As if I’d get caught. Now, let’s go raid the kitchen for snacks.”

***

“You know, I don’t know how you both have so many extra pastries to snack on throughout the day.”

Sydney took a seat beside Adrian on the grassy hill overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Rowena glanced over at her brushing crumbs off her vest and finishing her mouthful. “Excuse me, but Beaters need all the extra calories we can get. Consider it building energy to crush Slytherin this weekend. Not to mention your pain of a half-brother in Gryffindor next month.”

“I just have hollow legs and like sweets,”Adrian said, nonchalantly, wrapping one hand through Sydney’s as she sat. Both Rowena and Adrian had been enjoying the rare sunshine that had graced the castle that afternoon, sleeves rolled up and stockings and shoes ditched beside them. “How’s your day been?”

Sydney sighed, taking out a book out of her satchel. “Arithromancy seemed to drag on forever this morning, but transfiguration and potions were both a walk in the park this afternoon.”

Rowena snorted. “No doubt because you’re already trying to beat out Marcus at his NEWTs and you’re in fifth year.”

Adrian nudged his best friend, almost knocking the unfinished pastry out of her hand. “Can’t you see Sydney is far too pure in this world to be in competition with him?”

Sydney raised an eyebrow at him, before flipping open her book in her lap. “I’m not going to deny I love a bit of competition with him. He was furious with me when I got that pass by him at last week’s game.”

Rowena laughed, stretching out on the grass. “This is why I recruited you for the team obviously, Sage.” 

Adrian looked back and forth between the girls. Rowena, with her fiery personality, had made Captain for the Ravenclaw team this year, the first female beater in a long while in the school’s history.  Somehow, over the summer, she’d convinced Sydney to try out for a Chaser this year after a few family games. Adrian had never been one for athleticism, preferring the commentary box instead, but he had to admit even the thought of his girlfriend letting her competitive streak out made him weak. It caused him more discomfort to think of watching her fly around, practicing with Ro that summer in minimal clothing in the heat. 

Sydney flicked over a page in her book, looking over at the foggy faraway look on Adrian’s face. “Earth to Adrian, you may want to stop that train of thought before something else happens,” she said with a smirk. He cast her a knowing glance, before lifting their intertwined hands and kissed the back of hers.  Rowena made a slight gagging noise before sitting up bolt straight, and letting out a chuckle. 

“OI FINCH, YOUR SHIRT ISN'T TUCKED IN, PRINCESS,” she yelled across the grass where the Gryffindor team were leaving the pitch after practice. Most of them looked up, but one looked the most displeased out of all of them. The blonde headed boy waved off to his teammates before swaggering over to the group. 

Marcus Finch was seventh year with Adrian, however the guy was awfully serious much like his younger half sister about his studies. He also happened to be Head Boy this year, which meant a lot of time dealing with Prefect meetings with the guy. The only benefit of those meetings was Sydney was there as well. Despite being only half-siblings, they both were somewhat similar and the pair of them were formidable when they took the same side of an argument.  

“Funny you guys are here, the team and I were just talking about how Ravenclaw is no match for us this year actually,” Marcus teased, dropping his broom in the grass in front of them. Rowena gave him the finger as he smirked and took off his arm guards. Marcus and Sydney were one dynamic, but Marcus and Rowena were the complete opposite. They enjoyed stirring each other to the point where arguments sometimes got to the verge of duel challenges. On other days, they were thick as thieves. 

Adrian snorted. “I love how none of you have faith in the Hufflepuff team this year.”

All three of them stared at Adrian before bursting out into laughter. Adrian rolled his eyes at the lot of them, loosening his yellow tie. The only other Hufflepuff in their small group of friends was a young girl called Jill, who Adrian had taken under his wing when he’d noticed her being bullied back in second year. She was only a year younger than Sydney, but fell into Rowena’s category of choice of subjects. It was an easy introduction to make, and Ro was happy to tutor the younger kind witch in Divination and Potions. Both Adrian and Ro had a talent for chasing off bullies too; Ro had a reputation for throwing punches and Adrian had a talent for a prank here or there. Both factors made the bullies disappear, and Jill had made fast friends with them all, even introducing one more to the group. 

Eddie Castile was a classmate of Sydney’s from Gryffindor, and their friendship had only improved since he had started dating Jill. Eddie was sensible and courteous and Adrian enjoyed teasing him on the regular, but he’d fit in well with the rest of them. 

Sydney looked over at Adrian, swinging his arm to rest around her shoulders and leaning into him. “I love you, but there’s no way Hufflepuff has a chance this year, sorry. They’re far too….nice, this year.”

Marcus nodded, rolling up his practice robes. “You’re all too nice really. All your fire seems to have gone to Rowena this year. She’s far too feisty with that bat.”

Ro smirked at him. “You’d know from personal experience too. You pissed me off far too much that first game.”

Adrian pouted down at Sydney, tightening his arm around her. “I’m not just ‘nice’ to you am I?” 

She chuckled, running a hand over his chest. “No, you’re chivalrous too I guess. You’ve let your bad boy ‘pureblood’ attitude slip far too much to be credible as a once were,” she mused. She smirked at him though. “Although you’re still pretty smooth I’ll give you that.”

 “Well, he tries at least,” Rowena added, Marcus chuckling at her comment, “Sage, we all know that you run this relationship, pick up lines or no.” 

Sydney laughed, patting Adrian’s leg in jest. Adrian sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Look I’m not going to deny, Sydney has me wrapped around her finger, but can I keep some sort of illusion of manliness?” 

Rowena shrugged. “Nah, I read it in your tea leaves. She’s a dominant presence in your life, and it ain’t changing anytime soon.”

“And there goes Clark’s credibility, everyone!” Marcus exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. Ro lashed out with her foot from where she was sitting to tip him over while he wasn’t looking, but he caught her ankle on the way down and dragged her with them so they were both laughing in the grass. Marcus caught his breath and sighed still. “You put so much into Divination though, it’s going to get you nowhere.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Hey she’s predicting a damn few good things from my tea leaves, not to mention that time-”

Rowena gave him a sharp look, cutting him off. “It’s just been tea leaves, nothing else Adrian,” she said, her voice suddenly turning hard. Her eyes pleaded with him to stay quiet, and Adrian made a slight nodding motion at her silent request. No doubt, Marcus would only tease her more if he found out she’d blacked out one afternoon with Adrian while studying for her OWLs last year. The weird thing was though, she’d started talking about their lives like they were 30 years older. She’d quickly snapped out of it, and swore him to secrecy, clearly shaken from the event.

Sydney gave her a worried look, before turning to Marcus. “Have you heard from Dad this week?” 

Marcus shrugged, brushing the grass off his robes. “Nope. Although no doubt I’ll get some letter of disappointment that once again I’ve refused to make friends with one of the sons of one of his more important colleagues in the Ministry. Half of me wants to blow off being an Auror because he’ll be there, hovering at every moment.”

Adrian gave him a knowing look. Disappointing their fathers was something of a shared bond between Marcus, Sydney and him. Although, he didn’t tend to put much disappointment on Sydney. She was often met with resentment from Jared, mainly for the fact she was a girl. He’d never acknowledge just how talented and accomplished she was because of that one factor. Adrian smiled down at her still tucked into him, enjoying the sunshine on her face. She deserved nothing that her father threw at her, and Adrian knew he would die trying before he let her believe anything her father told her. 

“Well, you can always join me in flying by the seat of your pants and having no firm plans for after this year?” Adrian offered to Marcus, shrugging. “I mean, it’s a tough life, and I’d understand if it’s hard to dedicate yourself to but someone’s gotta do it.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “I can definitely confirm, I won’t be doing that but thanks for the offer.”

Sydney gave him a knowing look, and let out a sigh. “It’s going to be weird when you’re both not here bickering. I may just have peace and quiet out here to study next year.”

Adrian gave her an incredulous look. “What, so you’re just assuming I’m not leaving Rowena with instructions to annoy you instead? I have a whole host of owls at the ready to send you my daily insights already too. You’ll barely get that peace and quiet I assure you, Sage.”

A distant bell tolled in the distance. Rowena perked up from where she’d been sunning herself. “Dinner time, excellent. I’m starved,” she said, grabbing her shoes and stockings. Marcus groaned as he pulled all his Quidditch gear together, Rowena picking up his broom for him and handing it to him after he stood. Adrian quickly slipped on his own shoes and socks, and caught up to where Sydney waited for him. The other two had started to make their way ahead of them, no doubt keen to fill their bellies from the long day.

Adrian took Sydney’s book bag from her before taking her hand. “I know I’ll be leaving at the end of the year, but you know this won’t be the end of us right?”

Sydney sighed happily, swinging their hands. “I know, Adrian. You’re the one thing that makes this studying and regular routine worth it. A little distance won’t come between us. Besides, now I get letters everyday apparently? That’d be nice.”

Adrian laughed. “I mean I can start now, but kinda defeats the purpose when I can just tell you how stunning you are in person, right?”

Sydney smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Time to start cherishing it, I guess.”

#bloodlines #vampire academy #adrian ivashkov #sydney sage #marcus finch #rowena clark

[hooded-rogue-a]

—    BASICS.

▸     IS    YOUR    MUSE    TALL    /    SHORT    /    AVERAGE ?

He’s a tall boy - 6′2″ (188cm)

▸      ARE    THEY    OKAY    WITH    THEIR    HEIGHT ?

He is, yeah. 

Aside from the fact it really helps with being intimidating at times (he’s a tall sneaky boy with glowing eyes), it also helps him when it comes to climbing and chasing. 

The only time he really has an issue with his height is when he has to be stealthy in small spaces. He has to wiggle an awful lot sometimes and that is neither fun nor dignified.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ?

Colour: Black

Condition: thicker when young, thinner when older

Younger: close cropped on the back and sides, longer on the top, fringe fell between his eyes

Older: longer, stops mid-neck, majority is swept to the right, short fringe (occasionally) falls over his right eye (he wants his scar - across the opposite eye - to be on show)

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ?

Hair: no. 

He wears a hood 90% of the time so it gets messed up anyway, but even when he doesn’t he can’t stop himself from running his hand through his hair so it’s sort of pointless to put effort in to it. That, and he mainly tries to avoid people so it’s not like anyone is going to see whether or not he put effort in.

Beard: yes.

He likes to keep his beard short - slightly longer than stubble - and uniform. People CAN see that, whether he has his hood up or not - and he doesn’t want anyone to think the Order has low expectations in regards to the grooming standards of its soldiers.

▸      DOES   YOUR   MUSE   CARE   ABOUT   THEIR   APPEARANCE   /   WHAT    OTHERS    THINK ?

Not really.

He has a job to do and that job usually has him away from civilisation for long periods of time. He cares more when he’s making an appearance at a Circle, Fort or other official building, but out in the wilds he has more important things to worry about. 

But in regards to his armour/anything with the Order’s emblem on it, he will maintain that to a high standard. He’s proud of the Seekers, even after everything went wrong. 

Obviously everyone would in this case, but if he ends up meeting the Divine/Lord Seeker/anyone else deserving of respect (and where he’d have to remove his hood) then he puts a LOT more effort in. 

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS    OR    OUTDOORS ?

▸     RAIN    OR    SUNSHINE ?

▸     FOREST    OR    BEACH ?  

▸     PRECIOUS    METALS   OR    GEMS ?   

▸     FLOWERS    OR    PERFUMES ?  

▸     PERSONALITY    OR    APPEARANCE ?  

▸     BEING    ALONE   OR    BEING    IN    A    CROWD ?  

▸     ORDER    OR    ANARCHY ?  

▸     PAINFUL    TRUTHS    OR    WHITE    LIES ? 

▸     SCIENCE    OR    MAGIC ?   

▸     PEACE    OR    CONFLICT ?  

▸     NIGHT    OR    DAY ?  

▸     DUSK    OR    DAWN ?  

▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?  

▸     MANY   ACQUAINTANCES    OR   A    FEW    CLOSE    FRIENDS ?       

▸     READING   OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ?          

He isolates himself a lot, both physically and emotionally. I understand why he does it, but it puts unnecessary strain on his mental well being. Between being a Seeker - an Order which is infamous for being stoic and cold - and knowing there’re people who have it worse than him, Asher tends to just bottle everything up and try bury any emotions he may have. 

He avoids sleep whenever he can. He’s tired of all the nightmares and the nights spent staring at the ceiling/sky could have been much better utilised. He knows he needs sleep but doesn’t trust his head, so he just works himself to exhaustion, passes out for a few hours, then goes again the next day. The gifts from his Vigil prevent the lack of sleep from having any negative impact on his fighting capabilities so he genuinely doesn’t see a problem with his “routine”. 

▸      HAS    YOUR    MUSE    LOST    ANYONE    CLOSE    TO    THEM ?      HOW    HAS    IT    AFFECTED    THEM

He watched his father figure and Seeker mentor - Byron - die in front of him when he was still fairly young. It broke him. It reignited a hatred for mages that took years to control; it made him even more withdrawn from the world and it made him emotionally unstable, to the point that he turned his back on his best friend. Even decades later he still feels the impact of losing the only male role model he had in his life, and the constant flashbacks of him holding his mentor in his arms as the breath left his body still haunts him. 

▸   WHAT    ARE    SOME    FOND    MEMORIES    YOUR    MUSE    HAS ?  

The only fond memories he has are from his youth, everything from 26+ has just been death, betrayal and war. 

He remembers the Sisters and Mother at Ostwick Chantry smiling and laughing as he pretended to be a Templar; as he marched around the building and “stood guard” during the quiet hours. 

He remembers them singing to him when he was poorly or scared or just angry and confused at being abandoned by his biological family. Their voices were so calming and beautiful they stayed with him all his life. 

Byron also appears a lot. 

The occasions he’d ruffle Asher’s hair when he did something well; the subtle smiles he’d let sneak onto his face when he made him proud. The day Asher became an official Seeker and could see the pride in his mentor’s eyes is one of his best memories.

And then, of course, there’s the day he met one Ms Pentaghast. 

All the days spent together in their youth: their sparring matches, the conversations stretching into the night, the moment he realised he’d found a family with her. Perhaps the best memory he has of her though is the day he discovered what her full name truly was: the noise she made as that was read out at her initiation will humour him to his dying day. 

▸     IS    IT    EASY    FOR    YOUR    MUSE    TO    KILL ?

Of course.

He was trained to hunt and kill from a young age, it’s all he’s ever known. The Order only ever sent him after potentially dangerous people and it was his job to decide whether they deserved death or not. It was his responsibility to make the call and live with the consequences, so every kill he’s made was made for a reason. 

As far as he’s concerned, every life he takes is one less threat towards his family; that makes killing perhaps too easy for him. 

▸      WHAT’S    IT    LIKE    WHEN    YOUR    MUSE    BREAKS    DOWN ?

Messy.

If he’s with someone he trusts (mainly Cassandra), he’ll be open and is more likely to full on rant and be emotionally vulnerable. He won’t mean to, and he certainly won’t want to, but if something triggers the dam breaking then...it’s not a pretty sight.

With people he doesn’t know as well, or simply doesn’t trust, he’ll just be furious: everything will irritate him and he will get very vocal and violent towards objects - e.g. tables, chairs - unless someone is deliberately trying to piss him off, in which case he won’t hesitate to get violent towards them.

By himself he just...goes in on himself. He’ll throw things, punch walls/doors/pillows, everything, until his knuckles bleed and he tires himself out and then he’ll just go quiet. If he breaks down in private, no one will be able to lure him out of his hide-y hole; they’ll just have to wait. He won’t eat, won’t drink, won’t move in extreme cases, for days. Then he’ll be fine.

▸      IS    YOUR    MUSE    CAPABLE    OF    TRUSTING    SOMEONE    WITH    THEIR    LIFE ?

Yep.  

Although the Order focused on teaching him never to rely on others, it made sure he knew how to trust others and ensured he knew how to identify those worthy of it. 

It takes a while in Inquisition for him to trust people so completely simply because of what happened with the Order, but he does eventually settle down and stops watching his own back so much. 

As for Cassandra, he will always trust her with his life. 

▸      WHAT’S    YOUR    MUSE    LIKE    WHEN    THEY’RE    IN    LOVE ?

Sappy. Hopeless. Committed. Devoted.

He will smile, he will laugh, he will relax. He’ll be at ease with himself for the first time ever and will do everything he can think of to show his love and gratitude to the person that made that possible. 

He’s not a huge fan of PDA but he will kiss their cheek when he sees them, hold their lower back or waist when he stands beside them (as long as it’s suitable at the time); if they’re in the tavern he’ll wrap his arm around their shoulder or hold their hand beneath the table, that sort of stuff.

Be aware though, he is a cuddler and a nuzzler. He can spend hours just sitting against a tree or lying in bed with his Mrs. with his arms wrapped around her, nuzzling and kissing her shoulder whilst she relaxes against him. Most kisses will end with foreheads resting against each other and noses being brushed.  

Tagged by: @champions-folly @orsino-the-enchanter Tagging: @ianazavi @dalishunter @lathal (if yous haven’t done it, obviously) + anyone else, I have no idea how old a thing this is XD

#about Asher #musings

[redeeming-sun]

Merinthophobia

PHOBIA DRABBLE PROMPTS// Accepting 2 more

MERINTHOPHOBIA: My muse finds yours tied or chained up

//Under read more for length

The whole problem really hadn’t been any of Arator’s business. Truthfully he would not have even gotten involved if they hadn’t been taking their sweet time.

The days’ events started when Arator made a stop at a small outpost town. He had intended for his stay to last a few minutes to pick up supplies before being on his way. It was during this visit he overheard two men talking over a request. Apparently, a small group of travelers had been ambushed on their journey. Some bandits seeking money for a ransom had captured the group. One of the party escaped and returned to the outpost to convey the need for their rescue.

 He was now seeking someone capable of saving the other four and found a formidable-looking warrior who was suitable for the job. Arator got close enough to listen, and his interest was raised enough that he even volunteered to join them. After all, the more hands available then the better the chances for the hostages. He was, however, abruptly dismissed with a wave of the warrior’s hand and a reprehensible comment regarding the unpleasant concept of needing a half-elfs help. 

Fine. Be that way. Arator had thought, not a stranger to such attitudes or remarks. He let it roll off his back before returning to his browsing.

As the two talked over the details, including the location of the abandoned garrison where it was suspected the party was being held, Arator shopped at the outpost. If they didn’t want his help then they wouldn’t have it. Their loss. Well, not so much theirs as those currently captured. They would, after all, be forced to wait for the two men to agree on a price. 

The one who escaped was attempting to reassure the warrior that, once they were all rescued, there would be a large gold reward but he could not promise how much it would be as that figure did not depend on his pockets but rather the size of those who were rescued. He was to be owed a debt, but the warrior did not seem to like that and acted as if ‘debt’ meant he would not be paid. 

It took some self-restraint on Arators part to not argue with the men. While they squabbled, people were suffering and awaiting rescue. If the Silver Hand had behaved in such a manner when Arator had needed rescuing, who knows how much longer he would have waited on Niskara for them. His chest began to hurt as he thought of the weeks spent there and the torture he and others had suffered through. How long would he have been there had gold been an issue…months longer? Time ran differently in the Twisting Nether so, yes, months would have been an accurate estimation. He shuddered at the thought.

By the time Arator was done shopping and had paid for his supplies, the two were still arguing over how much gold was to exchange hands immediately after the task was complete. He could have left right then and there, but would he have been able to sleep that night while thoughts of these two men still arguing after the sun had gone down filled his head? No, surely they would follow him into his dreams…as would the pleas of four people suffering.

So, Arator mounted his steed and left the outpost in search of the garrison. If the two ever came to an agreement, they would find him there. If not, and Arator succeeded in rescuing the people before anyone else came to do it, then no one would get paid but the people would be safe. He was happy with that. It might even piss off the warrior which was not the point but definitely Arator’s own personal reward. 

Arator found it quickly enough, exactly where the man had said it would be. Weeds, erosion, and time had claimed back some of the stone garrison, leaving it in need of repairs. Really the perfect spot for some bandits to hideout. Outside, Arator stayed within a treeline and watched the garrison. He noted one bandit on foot patrol and another above on the walkway. No doubt there were more inside. Likely too many to reclaim it with brute force, but luckily patience was one of his virtues.

The reins to his horse were tied to a tree and, when the guard up top patrolled to the other side of the roof, Arator made his move. First was the guard on the ground, whom he came up behind and put in a headlock. It only took a few seconds before they were forced into unconsciousness and then hoisted over Arator’s shoulders and taken back to the treeline. 

Arator apologized to the sleeping man as he took off their leathers, including mask, and put them on himself. They would help him blend in with the bandits, at least for a longer time than if he went in wearing the heavy armor of a paladin. The bandit was now almost naked and, again, Arator apologized though he would not hear him and then tied the man to a tree and gagged him.

With a mask on, and looking appropriately devious, Arator waltzed over to the garrison as if he belonged. The guard up top was coming back for his patrol and looking agitated. He had noticed his companion went missing but seemed relieved when he returned.

“HEY! Where did you go!?” He called down in common, earning a sigh of relief from Arator. “Had to pee! Going to get some food now. Want some?”

Arator was quick to notice a hint of confusion in the other’s stance, but it vanished at the prospect of food. No matter the person, be they cruel or kind, food was always welcome.

“Ooh, I would love some food!” 

He could not see Arators smile from behind the mask, but it was there. The paladin-turned-spy nodded and called back, “I’ll be right up with some.” before heading inside. True to his word, it did not take long for Arator to find the kitchen and grab some food. A few slices of toast, a glass of milk, and some wild berries. On the toast and in the milk he put a few drops of purple lotus extract; a chemical any non-violent paladin would appreciate seeing as it worked to put someone to sleep without any lingering headache.

Then he headed to the roof. Upon entry and during his little visit in the kitchen, he had counted at least four other bandits and what seemed to be a few hostages in cages. The other bandits wore similar outfits to his and did not question his cravings for a snack. They would pass by, and Arator would nod at them, both acknowledging their presence and putting them at ease that he had nothing to hide. 

Once at the roof, the other guard was awaiting his snack and seemed genuinely happy when it arrived.

“Thank you so much!” He took the plate and immediately began to eat.

“Sure, back to work for me.” Arator remarked, doing his best to sound nonchalant as he watched the other drink from the milk glass. History of using this herb told him that he now had about five minutes before he fell asleep and an hour before the guard was to wake up. Chances were more likely that twenty minutes would pass before someone found said guard asleep on the job. It should be enough time.

Back downstairs, and happy that he had two guards incapacitated and out of the way, Arator began to look for hostages. The first three were easy enough to find, all in one room and trapped in cages. He dismissed the guard by telling them he would watch the hostages while they went and made some food for themselves. They were quick to agree and Arator noted how sad it seemed that they were not being properly fed. Crime did not pay. 

Once gone, he motioned for the hostages to be quiet and then opened their cages. As he snuck them out of the garrison, some told him of the Priestess that was with them. She was, apparently, the focus on the ambush. 

Arator was personally offended that this whole debacle had happened because the bandits had wanted to ransom a priestess. Or all the people in the world to target it was a woman who followed a path of dedication and divinity. Up until now, the whole operation to rescue them was done out of regret that they were suffering…but now he had a new motivation. The rescue of a sister in arms. 

The three newly liberated hostages and the paladin in disguise exited the garrison and went to the treeline. Sure enough the guard up top was no longer patrolling, and Arator suspected he was enjoying his nap. Before returning to rescue the remaining hostage, the three informed him that she was likely being held in the basement dungeons of the garrison; bleak and dismal place, one not befitting of a lady of the light. Arator was beginning to take this more and more personal. He imagined the two men, in the town, likely still arguing. 

He slipped back inside of the garrison with ease and quickly found the stairs leading to the lower floors. It was a small dark room with cell bars and one guard who, instantly upon seeing someone descending, got defensive.

“Who are you! Identify yourself! You shouldn’t be down there!” He was a noisy fellow and Arator was running out of time to be tactful with how loud he was. So, before the man got his weapon at the ready, Arator had rushed him and knocked him out with a well-placed punch. It might have been the initial punch that had silenced him, or his head hitting the stone wall behind him. Difficult to figure out and on the bottom of Arator’s list of concerns at that moment.

First and foremost was the lady in the cell. They had used far more chains than was necessary for someone who looked so delicate. Looks could be deceiving but surely she was not that dangerous. He suspected it was more an insurance policy to keep her from escaping. 

“Miss, are you okay?” He asked her, his voice hushed and hands searching the pockets of her unconscious jailer. It took a minute to find the keys and open the gate, but he did it with relative ease. Once inside the cell, he pulled off his mask so she might be relaxed by another elven face…or at least a half-elven face. “I will have you free in just a moment…please don’t worry.” 

The key was used on the shackles around her wrists, ankles, and waist (WHY! Why so many chains for a priestess?! If he hadn’t been remaining calm for her sake, he would have been furious!) and soon enough she was freed. Even in the dark of the cell, she had a vibrancy about her that only those blessed by the light could emit. 

“This is no place for you. Let’s get out of here, okay?” Arator offered a kind smile before slid his arms under her legs and behind her back, picking her up bridal style then ascending the stairs. He would have let her walk on her own but they had to be quick and he suspected that, if the guards were this hungry then food was probably a luxury the hostages had yet to receive. He anticipated her to be tired, hungry, and desperate to escape. All three things he could accomplish much quicker by carrying her.

#* In my dreams ﴾In character﴿ #* Asks ﴾Answered﴿ #phobia meme #its so long im so sorry #its also very in character for him to forget his plans for the day to save people #the only reason it works for him is because he put all of his stats in charisma

[jomiddlemarch]

The truth is rarely pure and never simple

“Matthew? Are you awake?” Diana whispered. Since the first day they’d been at Sept-Tours and she’d heard Ysabeau call his name, she had begun to pronounce it differently, some amalgam of her American accent and the Occitan Matéu, some little magic she performed without being aware of it. She seemed to constantly find new ways to bind him to her, as if her singing blood were not enough. He turned to her, seeing her bright hair silvered in the moonlight, a glimpse of the future as she’d conjured his past.

“Yes. I’ve told you, I don’t need very much sleep.”

“Then you won’t mind if we talk?”

“Of course not. But you’re not tired?” he said. She was so resilient, his witch, but she needed to rest, even if she wouldn’t always admit it.

“A little. But I’m not sleepy and I was wondering about the past, your past,” she said. She didn’t sound troubled, though she might have been. He resolved he would answer her as honestly as he could, would offer her as much of himself as he could. His fierce desire for her was in abeyance after their earlier intimacy and he was able to think clearly, despite her warmth and scent.

“What do you want to know?”

“I know you’ve lived through so many terrible things, terrible times. I know you’ve been hurt,” she said, contemplatively. It was the voice of the academic, one he found he’d missed, not the warrior, the lioness.

“Mm, yes.”

“Was it ever fun? Fifteen hundred years is such a long time for only despair and determination,” she said. Matthew laughed, a soft sound in the room, and pulled her closer to him. She was perched on her elbows and he had a sudden vision of her with her hair tied back in a bun, peering through spectacles, glasses she called him, inquisitive, too sharply intelligent to be merely charming.

“You think it’s a silly question?”

“No, no, it’s the perfect question. One I’ve never been asked, which makes it all the better,” he said, thinking of what to tell her.

“The first hundred years or so, I don’t recall very well. The transition was difficult for me. I grieved…poorly,” he said. Diana waited. She could be patient if she thought it worthwhile. A witch’s patience, not like his, but her own, like a glass of Burgundy, not the wind in the winter.

“Snowball fights and singing in rounds, I’ve always liked those,” he said, letting the pleasure of the memories color his voice.

“Surprise and predictability,” Diana said.

“Playing chess, teaching Marcus to play chess, and falconry. Flying kites. I once brought Maman a hat from Paris with a brim a meter wide, covered in violent red silk poppies, her face when she saw it, when she wore it,” he said. Diana laughed.

“Books. So many books. Wilde and Austen, Rostand, Sorel, Chaucer,” he said.

“Do creatures write? Or are only humans the great writers?”

“There are a few of us. Mostly demons. Witches write spells and grimoires. Vampires are made, not born; it must do something to us creatively,” he mused.

“Anything else? This all sounds so serious still,” Diana said. Matthew considered what to tell her.

“I’ve always liked puppetry, the masks, how the children accept there is someone else there so easily,” Matthew said.

“You mean Punch and Judy shows?”

“Yes, mon coeur. But also the Muppets and Senor Wences. Not Charlie McCarthy,” Matthew said.

“You’re lying!” Diana exclaimed.

“Why would I lie about this?”

“To tease me,” she said, not offended. “To see if I’m gullible enough to believe you.”

“While that might be highly entertaining, I’m not. There’s no point in lying to you, you’d know if I truly tried,” Matthew said.

“Not all witches can divine the truth so easily. Not everyone can scry or See,” Diana said.

“Not because you are a witch, albeit a gifted one. Because you are my mate, my wife. There are no secrets between us now,” Matthew said. Diana was quiet and then shifted, laid her head down on his chest where his heart beat, very slowly, for her.

“So, Kermit?”

“Animal,” he answered, stroking his hand slowly along her bare arm, listening to how her laughter changed over into something else. How fun transformed into amusement, into beguiled delight.

#a discovery of witches #adow #matthew de clairmont #diana bishop #matthew/diana #romance #humor #bishmont #vampires and witches #the muppets #historian Diana #bundling #the not-French kind