#why can’t she be loved and cherished and missed and treated with tenderness

[lagosbratzdoll]

I find it odd and by odd I mean racist that ever since that stupid show cast the Dragon Twins as Black girls, there's been an uptick in Jace/Sara content/shipping.

Before the dumpster fire started, reasonable people agreed that Sara Snow was not real, but now you cannot go five minutes in Jace or Baela’s tag without seeing someone wish they'd include Sara Snow in the show.

They say it'll deepen Jace’s character and make him “interesting”, whatever that means. The problem with this assertion is that Jace is already plenty interesting, he led the war councils while his mother grieved, and he recruited the blacks' most important allies. Allies who remained steadfast even after his mother's and his own demise.

Furthermore, Jace has existing relationships in his life that the show could explore to delve into his connection with bastardy. Three of whom are canonically Black, by the way.

So, the question arises: what unique perspective or insight can Sara Snow provide to Jace's struggle with his bastard status that Nettles, Addam, and Alyn cannot?

#i was going to leave it alone because i’m tired of talking about antiBlackness in general but i saw a post that annoyed me in Baela’s tag. #this fandom is so racist #it is genuinely exhausting that i cannot even scroll a characters tag in peace #it is telling that most of y’all skip all the canonical Black bastards to attach yourselves onto a white character whose in world existence #is debated #how would reducing baela to the other woman in her own relationship help her character? #would that not just repeat the disgusting precedent that the show runners set with laena #why can’t she be loved and cherished and missed and treated with tenderness #house of the dragon #baela targaryen #jace velaryon #nettles #addam velaryon #alyn velaryon #sara snow #had to get that out of my system #back to ignoring asoiaf discourse as best i can

[dragonsareourfuture]

Ways the Death Note Cast Show They Trust You

I lost some inspiration towards the middle there, I’m sorry!!

L

- he will always have Watari make extra servings of food just for you. It’s a bit startling at first. So suddenly there’s just food in front of you that you think is for L, but when you push it towards him, he pushes it right back to you.

“You don’t want it?” He’d ask, leaving you confused until you finally put the pieces together.

“Oh, I…I guess I didn’t realize it was for me. My bad.” You begin eating. “Thank you.”

L simply hums and continues with whatever he was just up to.

- You know that thing cats do where they’re sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, guard slightly down, but still not quite asleep? I can picture L doing something like this during any moment of downtime he gets. Just sitting, scrunched up in his chair or wherever he happens to be, eyes closed but the cogs in his brain are still turning. You notice him doing this when it is only you and him in the room, simply thinking it’s because of the moment of rare solitude. Little do you know, it’s because he trusts that you won’t hurt him or let anything bad happen to him.

- L is a person who prefers to be in charge of his own life. He likes knowing what’s going on around him at all times and when things are out of his hands he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. However, with a person he’s developed a close relationship with and knows he can trust with everything he has, L will feel more comfortable leaving decisions up to them. You’ll have to start small though, like being the one to plan a surprise date. He might feel a bit uncomfy at the beginning, shifting around and possibly even insisting he sit so that he can see the exits clearly, but he eases into it eventually. Soon you both find yourselves joking around in the odd way that you do and gorging on cake and ice cream.

Mello

- being vulnerable is something Mello isn’t too keen on. He already feels vulnerable most of the time and would kick himself if he let that show through his actions. If Mello truly trusts you, he will feel as though he can be vulnerable around you without any judgement on your end. Small acts that show vulnerability such as asking you to help him with something he can’t quite handle on his own — even if it’s something as simple as not being able to reach something off a shelf or being unsure about how to fix something. Eventually, he’ll work his way up to the bigger stuff like being physically wounded in front of you or having a mental block.

- Sharing his clothes with you or letting you pick his outfit for him. Now, it sounds like he’s just being a little diva and that’s only partially true. But his clothes are important to him, they’re a factor that sets him aside from his plain-dressing rival and in his eyes they make him more interesting than him, visually at least. He’s happy to dress you up, and it is true that he has to have a close relationship with you to want to do so, but you should be especially proud if he lets you alter his appearance in any way.

- He likes to believe that he’s had his goals set out from the beginning. Surpass Near, become the next L, and go on from there. What he pushes to the back of his brain are the moments he’s been studying and he’s asked himself ‘What if I went down a different path?’. He quickly pushes these thoughts away, but they keep coming back. What would life be like if this wasn’t an option for him? What if he were a writer? What if he lived in the city with people he loves and went to the movies every Friday? Unwillingly, he has a whole list of possibilities. If he truly trusts you, he’ll share every single one with you. Whether it’s dropping hints or confessing them one by one late at night, he can’t help but feel that they’re safe with you.

Misa

- it seems a bit surface level, but it’s true — Misa will talk down on Light in front of you if she trusts you. But it’s not straight away. She had developed a lot of courage to actually break up with him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still doubt her decision to do so. It’s only when she finds out from you how loved ones are supposed to treat each other — with kindness and respect — that she feels her decision to ditch Light was the entirely right one. Slowly, she’ll start to admit to you all the things she hated about Light, starting with some of his mannerisms and building up to something like how he forced her to leave the entertainment business.

- Misa is…dramatic. She likes to go above and beyond for someone she’s infatuated with and make sure they’re the happiest they can be. If she trusts you enough to develop this kind of infatuation and, with some development, less of an obsession and more of a strong, bonding love, you will be doted on to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. You could be at home during one of her work days and you’ll get a delivery of lunch from your favorite takeout place because Misa was ‘thinking of you <3’, as she explains when you text her asking why food randomly showed up at your place. It’s rather sweet.

- Misa’s a pretty talkative person in general, that’s a well known fact. She’ll talk about clothes, a cute birdie she saw on her way home, really anything that comes to mind. But, she’ll do that with about anyone who’ll listen. It’s gradual, so it’s hard to notice, but if Misa grows to trust you she’ll start talking about some of the more serious things that have been on her mind for a while, those things that she thought would scare off anyone she liked because of how personal they are to her. Her family before they died, for example. It’s something that Misa thinks about. So much. But she doesn’t really talk about it. She wants to forget, put the past behind her but because she’s never talked about it with anyone it’s hard to do that. She’ll talk about her family to you, the little things her sister used to do and some things her parents did that she misses.

Matsuda

- Matsuda often begins to idolize those who he thinks are trustworthy and have a good heart. He starts to tell you how much he loves when you do x and that he wishes he could perform as well as you in that area. In a sense, he trusts you with his vulnerability, letting you know that he thinks of himself as less than satisfactory and how he wishes he could do better, only he channels it by pointing out good things about you. If…that makes sense.

- This sounds dire, but he’ll risk his life for the people he completely, without a doubt trusts. He was willing to do so with Chief Yagami, someone he saw as a father figure, and he would certainly be willing to do so with you, someone who he feels he has a deep emotional connection to. Whether you’re in a situation where he would need to or he’s just saying that he would, he means it.

- Matsuda trusts you to not make fun of him when he overshares or talks too much or anything his coworkers brush him off for. He feels that he can talk about things he finds funny and talk about his life without worrying about what you think of him when he does.

Matt

- he would drop everything to help you. Whether that’s dropping his game to help you kill a bug or leaving his duties behind to help you out of a life or death situation. Whichever scenario you happen to find yourself in he’s there no matter what.

- He’ll invite you into his personal life. I know this is kind of a given but Matt had the chance to become the next L. He had the chance to become something “great” and he said “ummm rather not” to it because it wasn’t something he wanted. If he shares this information with you, he trusts you not to leave him for something better when you discover the status he could have had and refused. He trusts you to appreciate him because of him and not the intelligence everyone but him cherishes.

- He leaves you alone around important technology and software he’s hacked. Unfortunately for him, betrayal comes with the business he’s got himself into and, if Matt really trusts you on both a professional and emotional level, he won’t have a problem worrying about whether or not you’ll take advantage of his coffee break to gather information for some other organization or something. He will literally just go “mkay babe I gotta go fuel up on caffeine real quick, you’re good watching the hacked government database right? Cool cya.”

Near

- Near trusts you to take him to public places. Sounds simple, yeah. But Near has never liked crowds, or even just too many strangers in a wide open place. It’s strange to everyone observing how one day he decides he needs a new toy, his old one having broken due to old age, and asks you to take him to the toy store. He’s questioned, people wondering why he wouldn’t rather you just go alone but Near insists. Apparently the toy that broke is special addition and he wants to make sure you get the right one. He stays close to you the whole way, not really saying much, but he’s there and that’s a big step for him.

- He helps you out with puzzles. Basically cheats for you. When he’s eyeing one specific empty slot, coughing lightly to get your attention, just know that he’s not helping you because he thinks you need it. Quite the opposite actually. With anyone else, he believes that they should be able to solve it on their own. He thinks that if they can’t, then that’s their fault. But with you…it’s as if he trusts that you’re intelligent enough without the puzzle being an indicator of that intelligence, so much so that he thinks the puzzle itself is obsolete when it comes to you. He doesn’t need a puzzle to know how smart you are.

- He’ll eat the foods you make him. Near’s picky eater-ness is above that of a child who only eats chicken tenders and pizza. He doesn’t eat that many people’s food because he knows it’s probably not he way he likes it. But with you, he trusts that you respect his eating habits and know him well enough to get it right the first time. Though he does check the food out for a bit, he’ll eat it. Sometimes all of it. Fuckin astonishing to Rester who had attempted many times to heat up microwave dinners for the guy.

#death note #death note x reader #x reader #x reader headcanons #l death note #l lawliet #l Lawliet x reader #l x reader #Misa amane #misa amane x reader #touta matsuda x reader #touta matsuda #Mello x reader #mihael keehl x reader #mihael keehl #death note mello #near x reader #near death note #Nate river #nate river x reader #Mail jeevas #mail jeevas x reader #death note matt #matt x reader

[writer-ish]

in the lambent light

pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 2.4K words | rating: T (language)

summary: On the rooftop of the Warehouse, Grace and Mason have an honest conversation about sexuality, small towns, and love (sort of), with the revelry and light of Unit Bravo’s first Wayhaven Pride in the background.

For Week 1, Day 1 of @wayhavensummer: First Pride + #wsfchallenge “belonging”.

*

She finds him on the roof of the warehouse, of course, kicking his feet idly as they dangle over the edge, a thin wisp of smoke coming up steadily from his cigarette.

When he sees her, he puts it out and links his fingers together, eyes following her as she comes to sit beside him.

They're high up – too high; if she looks down she feels a bit dizzy – and he grunts, his eyes narrowing as she dangles her legs, too. She looks at her colourful socks - one purple, one pink - as she tries not to think about how steep the drop would be if she lost her balance or even just shuffled forward a bit.

She wonders if maybe he'll put his hand out to hold her steady, or force her to sit back.

(He does neither.)

"You don't have to do that, you know." She gestures belatedly to the ash of his crumpled cigarette still smoking lightly on the concrete. "I know I gave you a hard time before, but really, I don't want you to stop on account of me."

He shrugs. "It's fine. I don't even know why I still do it when I don’t even really need it anymore. Habit, I guess."

She opens her mouth to insist, say how she doesn't want him, doesn't need him to change for her – but her mouth clicks shut instead. It's easier to let it slide. To not delve too deeply into why he doesn't need it anymore.

They sit in silence for a bit, the evening breeze settling on them.

The sounds of revelry in the town square continue. Grace can hear the celebrations, the music, can feel the general aura of happiness radiating from below.

When she’d left to seek out Mason, Tina had been painting a rainbow on Adam’s sharp cheekbone as he sat very still, giving the situation a gravitas that it perhaps didn’t deserve, but was still heartwarming to see nonetheless.

Eric and Verda had been watching indulgently as their girls got spoiled with treats provided by Nate, who had been doing his very best to succeed at the task of “enjoying his first Pride”.

(When he’d asked if he was “doing it right”, Grace couldn’t help but give him an impromptu hug.

“You’re doing perfectly,” she’d said warmly and he had smiled down at her, eyes sparkling.)

Felix, for his part, had been bouncing around, examining the stalls set up to highlight the queer-owned business in Wayhaven, coming back to hand Nate a new trinket or snack or pin he’d purchased, and then bounding off again, the excitement practically vibrating off of him.

She smiles wistfully at the memory of how the town embraced Unit Bravo as their own, as she regards it all from a distance now, a bloom of warmth in her chest – a collection of the happiness and pride that she feels towards her little town for coming together in this way year after year. To celebrate its people; the people who make Wayhaven what it is.

To celebrate love.

She turns to Mason, spontaneously dropping a hand to his knee. He looks down swiftly and then back up at her, silver-grey eyes meeting her own.

"Was it all too much for you?" She nods in the direction of light, laughter, colour, and music. "Down there?"

He shrugs. "I respect the idea behind the celebration and I'm glad the others are happy and having fun. But yeah. It's not really my thing."

She nods slowly, going quiet again. He idly begins to play with her fingers, splayed out on his thigh. Tracing them with his own, up and down.

"You know it's not—"

"You know that we—"

They both go to speak at the same time, their voices stuttering to a stop as they realize.

"You go," Mason says eventually, the side of his lips quirked up in a small smirk. "You do most of the talking for us anyway."

"Hey!" Grace squeaks out indignantly. "I do not. Most people say I don't talk enough."

Mason snorts. "People who don't know you, maybe."

Her cheeks grow warm with pleasure at the unspoken confirmation. It feels like what he really said was: "People who don't know you the way I do."

And he's right.

"I was just going to say, Wayhaven has been doing this for years now. Decades even. We used to come when I was a kid.” She laughs in reminiscence. “There’s this picture of me – maybe eighteen months old or something – on Rook’s shoulders, watching the parade as my mom smiles up at us both.”

She feels her own smile go soft, like the edges of that faded cherished photograph. She shakes her head to clear the cobwebs of nostalgia before turning to him again. He’s regarding her in a way that can only be construed as fondness and her heart twists, ever so slightly.

“I’m glad you guys got to be here for your first Pride,” she continues, steering the conversation back to the present. To safer territory. “You hear all these things about the intolerance of small towns, and lord knows it’s true in some cases, but I dunno." She shrugs, a small smile gracing her lips once more. "It feels nice to be part of one of the good ones."

He's quiet and she turns to look at him after a moment of prolonged silence. He's still staring at her, this time a more inscrutable expression on his face. She can't tell what's going through his mind, whether it's concern or agreement or even anger. His fingers have stilled overtop hers and his large palm rests on her hand, warm and steady.

It takes another beat before he clears his throat and breaks eye contact, moving his hand off of hers. The cool air rushes to the spot where his hand used to be and she finds herself missing its warmth and comfort.

"It's true," he says finally. "It is one of the good ones." He looks at her carefully. "And you’re right. They aren't all like that."

There’s a wealth of meaning in his simple statement and it’s her turn to stare at him now, processing his words and trying to formulate an appropriate response.

"Have you…" She hesitates, trying to parse her words carefully. "Have you experienced… bad ones?"

He lets out a sigh. The very human sound, probably borne from a habit he could never quite kick, sends a tender pang straight to her heart.

"Listen, sweetheart." He leans back and looks up at the quickly dimming sky, the summer heat dwindling to a more tolerable mildness, the breeze picking up slightly and bringing with it the sweet scent of the magnolias below them. "It's no secret that I am not what people would call…"

He smirks and shoots her a side-long glance, his mischievous look belied by the glint of a single fang. "Discerning."

She stays quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve never seen value in—” He pauses, appearing to search for the right word. “—In curbing my desires to fit into a certain mold. I like what I like, I like who I like, and no real external factors – like gender or appearance or the shape of your tits or your bits – have ever really come into play.” He shrugs and pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket, fiddling with it without lighting it. “Some people have a problem with that and some places like to make it known more than others.”

Something about his final sentence causes her pulse to quicken, her thoughts jangling in her head. She tries to gather them up before she speaks.

“Do you think…” She hesitates. “Do you somehow think that I… have a problem with that? That I don’t understand?”

“Do you understand?” He looks straight at her then, his eyes sharp and intense. Not intimidating or cruel, but as though he’s looking for something – perhaps the honest answer to a question he’s not sure he’s even asked properly.

“I mean—” She feels indignant slightly, even though she tries to tamp it down. “If you think I somehow have an opinion on who people love and the circumstances around that, then I feel like maybe you don’t know me that well.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He holds his hands up, unlit cigarette still between two fingers, lip curling slightly. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about who I decide to fuck.”

That one stings. She purses her lips and looks away, trying not to let him see just how much, inhaling deeply as she tries to get her feelings under control.

“Yes, yes,” she says finally, looking away with a wave of her hand. “Fuck, love, whatever.” She turns to him again, eyes narrowed. “I might not understand in the way that you do, through lived experience, but I care enough to try. And I certainly don’t judge.”

“I never said you judged, Gracie.” His voice is soft and the way he says her nickname – so rare from his lips – makes her breath catch in her throat. He flicks the cigarette between his fingers now, back and forth. “I just want everything to be out there between you and me. So that there’s never any—” He hesitates. “—Surprises.”

“Oh, you mean like finding out you’re a centuries-old vampire?” she quips, raising an eyebrow at him, arms crossed.

He barks out a laugh. “Watch who you’re calling centuries old, sweetheart.”

She chuckles along with him, before getting serious once more.

“The least surprising thing about you, Mason, is the fact that you have no qualms about who you choose to be with. I’ve never met a more accepting and open person.” He looks like he’s about to argue with her, so she holds up a hand to stop him. “And just because we aren’t—exactly the same, in that regard—” She looks down, feeling her cheeks warm slightly. “—Doesn’t mean I don’t get it. Or respect it.” She shrugs, laughing self-deprecatingly. “I find it hard to believe you’re interested in my boring ass, to be honest.”

“Your ass is the least boring thing about you, Detective.” For that comment, he’s rewarded with a light whack on the leg. He laughs and wraps his arm around her. “C’mere.”

Putting the cigarette behind his ear, he tugs her closer. He holds her tightly against him, thighs touching and feet brushing against each other.

“I’m going to say something cheesy as fuck and you’re going to listen. And then you’re never going to repeat it again. Got it?”

She nods quickly, eyes widening in anticipation.

“I see people—not for what they look like or any of that shit, but for what’s in here.” He taps gently, right above her left breast. “Yeah, I don’t get mixed up in all that love stuff, and attraction does play a big role in who I seek out and why, but it’s not an attraction to physical things. I just get this—sense of who a person is, I guess. And if I like what I sense, I follow through. If I don’t, I move on.” He gives her a squeeze. “You understand?”

She bites her lip, breath growing shallow as the impact of his words infiltrates her blood stream and causes her heart to flutter painfully.

He smiles slowly, a cheshire grin, and she curses his ability to hear the increase in her pulse.

“And guess what, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave now, mouth close to her ear.

“What?” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“I like what you’ve got in here.” Another tap, same spot. “And I’m not ready to move on.”

As far as grand romantic statements go, Grace knows this one won’t make anyone’s top ten list. But for Mason, it’s a lot. And for her, for right now—it’s everything.

She leans forward and kisses him softly, sweetly, on the lips. His hand comes up to cup her cheek, but neither makes a move to deepen the kiss in any way, keeping it gentle and close-mouthed; an affirmation rather than the initiation of anything more. Pulling away, she looks at him, feeling the softness she sees in his face reflected in her own.

Giving him one more brief kiss, she scooches back and stands up carefully, dusting off the bottom of her blue shorts.

She catches him watching the action intently and he catches her catching him. They share a smirk that turns into a laugh and it feels comfortable and fun. It feels like an inside joke.

Like belonging.

“Let’s go, hot shot.” She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, swinging his legs around and standing up, his full height enough that she needs to tilt her head to look up at him.

“Think you can manage to rejoin the party?” she asks, her hand still in his as she tugs him to the door that will lead them back through the warehouse. “We’ll stick to the quieter corners. I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” she adds, smiling up at him, her tone cajoling, teasing.

There’s something about summer in Wayhaven, something about Pride in Wayhaven – the air feels lighter, sweeter. Grace feels lighter. Bolstered by love and friendship, warmth and comfort. All the good things about her little town seem to be highlighted during this time.

All the good things about her little life, she thinks, glancing at their joined hands.

Mason snorts and looks down at her, amused, before giving her hand a squeeze.

She squeezes back, feeling happier than she can remember ever feeling before.

“I’ll even buy you a snow cone without the syrup,” she offers as they leave, bumping his shoulder with hers.

He grunts and then stops short. “Isn’t that just ice?”

She bites back a smile, feeling laughter in her throat, and nods.

There’s a pause. He blinks once. Twice. Then—he bursts into loud laughter. The sound is so free, so surprising yet pleasant, that she can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. And when he pulls her even closer and presses a kiss to the top of her head—well. She’s not sure that smile will ever go away now.

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” he murmurs, keeping her close to him.

And she does.

#wayhaven summer #day one: first pride #week one #wsf challenge #belonging #grace’s sexuality isn’t really addressed but you might pick up what I’m trying (fumbling) to put down #it’s not the focus because this is really about mason #and his no apologies take on sexuality #or his past #while still being a lil soft for his detective #tw subtle mention of homophobia #/ intolerance

[unforth]

Could you elaborate on the parallels between the Scorpion and his dad and WKX and Purple Danger? I find that thought really interesting! <3

Oh my god you're asking me for meta? No one asks me for meta!!! Getting this made me so happy, thank you! And yes, I'd be delighted to!

Lemme preface this by saying: I have not read the book, and I've only seen episodes 1 through 27, and while I do know some spoilers for past what I've seen, I don't know everything, and I obviously can't speak to changes in dynamics that may happen past what I've watched.

So, I noted in this post that I felt like I'd just gotten slapped in the face by the parallels between Zhao Jing, and his relationship with Xie-er, and Wen Kexing, and his relationship and Gu Xiang. Specifically, the lines in episode 26 that caught me were these:

And the contrasts and similarities that they drew to these scene from Episode 24, which I watched yesterday:

(all screen caps are by me - I won’t have more screen caps just cause I really don’t have time to hunt them all down, I’m sorry, but the first two were easy to grab, and the second two I’d already taken cause that scene really got to me yesterday).

These lines, coming only two episodes apart, seemed like a really stark and deliberate effort to show a connection in the attitudes of Zhao Jing and Wen Kexing. They've also got some similarities in the childhood/history that got them to this point: Zhao Jing's family was fallen from grace, as was Wen Kexing's. Both are noted as seeming different from the "regular" people around them - Wen Kexing, it's explicit; with Zhao Jing, it's more how others seem to behave around him. It's harder to get a sense of Zhao Jing, since his own self-report is so dubious and the flashbacks we get to the Rong Xuan era are all given from the perspective of different unreliable narrators, whereas Wen Kexing's memories seem fairly intact (well, water of forgetfulness aside) and match the other remembrances we get of the same scenes.

With those similar, dubious foundations, they both resolve from a young age to take revenge for the perceived slights committed against them - and both have decided that regardless of who the specific instigators are for their suffering, they have no compunction about involving innocents as a whole. Zhao Jing wants the power he feels has been denied to him, and sets about conspiring to get that power. To achieve that, he sets about on a course that involves lying and using literally everyone who can help him. Likewise, while I'm still definitely missing some damn important of Wen Kexing's backstory (starting with, who protected the dog for him, and how he went from "kid getting regularly beaten by the previous ghost king" to "adult who is said to have literally eaten the previous ghost king"), he also clearly sets out to gain power through whatever means he can, and to survive, though from the get-go, his goal is essentially the inverse of Zhao Jing's: Zhao Jing wants to lift himself up, and sees nothing but virtue in doing so; Wen Kexing wants to bring everyone else down, and knows he's damned through-and-through for it.

(They're parallels, not matches, just to be clear! It's not that I'm saying everything is the same - on the contrary, it's the differences that makes it so intriguing).

Now, then, at some point relatively early in this entire process, each of these young men found a child. Given that Xie’er and Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishou are of the same generation, presumably they’re all around the same age - 27 or so - and also presumably, the previous generation were all in their late teens to early twenties when they had their own disastrous round of adventuring. So, if Xie’er is, say, 25, and Zhao Jing was probably around 20 (since he was one of the younger folks in the flashbacks), and 20 years have passed, and Xie’er was probably around the same age as child Wen Kexing when he was found? (I don’t know, and I don’t know if that’s ever established, sorry) So around 7? Then we’ve Xie’er being adopted by Zhao Jing and Wen Kexing being adopted by the Ghost King, each almost exactly 20 years ago. Presumably, also, Zhao Jing marries...drat, I can’t remember her name...was it Li Yao or something???...right around the same time - hence why Xie’er would think of her as a mother. Anyway, sorry, I’m really tired and I just lost the thread slightly, but the point is: a 20-or-so-year-old Zhao Jing finds a young Xie’er; and a few years later, a likely-early-teens-aged Wen Kexing finds a toddler Gu Xiang (because Wen Kexing is 27 now, and Gu Xiang is I’m guessing around 18, and she’s likely 3ish when Wen Kexing finds her, so that’d make her 3 or 4, and him 12 or 13). 

And here’s where the parallels really show the essential differences between these men, despite the areas of commonality in the hate they hold toward the world and their desire to see the world brought low.

Because, given a small child, Wen Kexing’s immediate, clear thought is: I will never let this child experience what I have been through. Now, he’s busted, and he’s crazy, so from that point of view, he still does her harm: she thinks of murder as nothing (as does Xie’er) for example. But even in that, the motivations are different. Gu Xiang says it herself after she kills the beggar and Cao Weining confronts her about it: if a person is out to harm her, if a person even might harm her, isn’t she justified in killing him? If that isn’t the quintessential Wen Kexing lesson right there, I don’t know what is: “Gu Xiang, you don’t kill because I tell you to, and you don’t kill for fun, and you don’t kill for no reason - but the moment, the very instant, you have a reason? Don’t hesitate, because if you do, you’ll be the corpse, not them.” Everything Wen Kexing teachers Gu Xiang is with the aim of helping her survive in the cruelest environment in the world, one that has flayed him and raked him over the coals over and over and over again. Further, despite the hints I’ve seen so far that he has early allies at Mount Qingya (Tragicomic Ghost has been shown to at minimum pity him, and find him an odd curiosity), Wen Kexing entrusts no one else with the most vulnerable creature who has ever come into his life (well, aside from that adorable puppy, which I have the bad feeling is going to be shown to be horribly murdered before his eyes, possibly by his own hand to prove a point...that would be thematically appropriate...). He gives Gu Xiang the tools to survive and fight for herself, even against him, and when she even begins to suggest she might prefer to be somewhere else - when he sees evidence of her finding happiness - he does everything he can to encourage her joy, support her happy ending, and free her. Wen Kexing is Gu Xiang’s father, in every useful interpretation of the term - she may call him master, and others might call her his maid, but their relationship is tender, encouraging, mutually supportive, and loving. Wen Kexing wants what is best for Gu Xiang, even at the expense of his own comfort and happiness, because he cares for her that essentially and deeply - and she likewise goes out of her way to protect him more than once.

MEANWHILE.

Given a small child, though I haven’t yet seen any flashbacks to when Xie’er was little and I don’t even know if there are any, it’s really obvious that Zhao Jing instantly goes, “how can I best use this to my advantage?” Instead of setting about to build this child up to be a functional adult who can stand up to the challenges that threatened to crush Zhao Jing’s life, Zhao Jing deliberately sabotages Xie’er’s ability to function as an independent unit. He teachers Xie’er to kill, not to protect himself, but on command - to kill because Zhao Jing says so, who Zhao Jing says, on even the merest whim, and is so successful at doing so that Xie’er has even less respect for life than Zhao Jing does (which was never much to begin with). Further, while we know that Wen Kexing will kill to protect Gu Xiang, Zhao Jing never so much as lifts a finger to do his own dirty work, and has zero compunction about throwing Xie’er under the bus when he suits his ends. In 27, he flat out says - “if you keep acting like this, and kill the Gentle Wind Sect, you’ll ruin me - which means I can never let you stand next to me in public.” He says this when he knows that Xie’er craves his approval and that one of Xie’er’s most cherished objects in all he’s done is to reach a point where he can stand at Zhao Jing’s shoulder as an acknowledged heir and successor and proudly say, “yes, I did all those things to help my father, because I’m a good son.” Further, Zhao Jing is constantly abusive and manipulative. When Xie’er does what Zhao Jing has trained him to do, on command (like a dog? more parallels??), Zhao Jing praises him, touches him kindly (and when else do you think Xie’er is ever getting touched kindly? Nothing like the casual and appropriate physical intimacy with which Wen Kexing and Gu Xiang shoulder bump and interact) and tells him how precious he is. The instant Xie’er steps a toe out of line, Zhao Jing denigrates him, threatens to take away that which Xie’er most wants (acknowledgement), scolds him, calls him a fool, says he doesn’t understand. Zhao Jing calls Xie’er his son, and insists that Xie’er call him yifu, and the world may even see that way - though they hardly can, since Zhao Jing refuses to be publicly associated with Xie’er - but they couldn’t be less related when compared to Wen Kexing, who allows all to see him call Gu Xiang his servant even as he flagrantly, publicly, repeatedly treats her as his child - culminating in the speech he gives Cao Weining when he gives permission for them to wed.

Everything Wen Kexing does, as fucked up as some of it is, is done with the aim of building Gu Xiang up into a strong, independent, functional adult who is less stained than himself and capable of pursuing happiness in the world.

And everything Zhao Jing does, all of which is equally if not more fucked up than what Wen Kexing does, is done with the aim of tearing Xie’er down, making him a powerful tool - a trained dog, if you will - and a dependent person who can be deployed on an enemy and must be kept permanently off-balance so that he never ever is an independent, functional adult - and, to help ensure that, he deliberately orders Xie’er to commit depraved acts that guarantee that Xie’er is more stained than himself, and therefore incapable of finding happiness in the world.

Anyway, I could probably go on, but I gotta leave to drive my kid to school and run a couple errands, but, in conclusion: when Zhao Jing said, “the world has failed me, and I shall do the same to the world,” and it became clear to me that he and Wen Kexing essentially share (or at least shared) the same core goal, I was struck by a lightning bolt about the parallels and contrasts between them as people, and them as father’s, and here you go.

Hope this is coherent, I’m really sleepy and in a rush. :D And I hope it answers your question!

(Also dear everyone: if you reply to this or add to it in reblogs I ask that you please respect that I’ve only seen to episode 27, and not rip me apart for things I haven’t seen yet, and try to avoid giving me spoilers? I know a few - or at least I think I do - like I know all the Major Character Death stuff - but I’m sure if you’ve seen the whole series you can spot places where you, dear reader, know things I don’t, and I’d ask that you not ruin those places for me, because I’m watching as fast as I can - about one episode a day - and I’d rather find out for myself. Thank you!)

#unforth rambles #unforth metas #meta #word of honor #word of honor spoilers #word of honor meta

[happymeishappylife]

The Legacy of the First Doctor as played by William Hartnell

I can’t imagine what it would feel like as a veteran actor most notable for playing military roles, to be approached to star in a brand new Science Fiction program as a mysterious old man travelling through space and time. I’m sure it seemed ridiculous especially because there was not only nothing like this in television, there was not really any science fiction on the television other than a couple comic book shows for kids. But since he took the role to break away from his heavy and typecast persona, it not only helped him connect to grandchildren, but children around the world and formed a legacy that no other actor on the show could replicate. Because if it wasn’t for Hartnell’s success on the show, the show would not exist.

Now the Doctor is of course a curious character. When we meet the Doctor, he seems to be a cranky old man, easily irked by the idea of people stumbling across his secret life. Perturbed that two school teachers felt the audacity to come looking for his granddaughter and stumble across the TARDIS, he takes them into the unknown, if nothing to gain the satisfaction that he is right and they are wrong, and that his machine is simply unparalleled to anything they’ve ever experienced. But as the truth of this decision comes to life, in which the Doctor cannot simply return them to 1963 London, he soon finds along with him new human companions, that adventure and companionship is actually better than being right and wrong and that they all have something to learn from each other.

Of course the First Doctor is also a product of the 1960s. He is in charge first an foremost of his granddaughter, having been travelling her with some time as we learn, but the role of the head of the family, the man of wisdom, the one you cannot disrespect soon gets felt as Ian and Barbara join the TARDIS. Sure some buttons between them get pushed, but ultimately it becomes understood that whatever the Doctor decides for them is how it will be. And if you are a nuisance he will yell and punish you like any grownup will. Hence the line about a ‘jolly good smacked bottom’ to Susan when she falls and twists her ankle, something totally not her fault. And you can also see it in the way he treats the women he travels with, but there are glimpses that this won’t forever be the case, even early on in the series. Still as a modern viewer it can be hard to sit through.

When looking at the Doctor’s relationships with his companions, its obviously clear that there is one he cherishes above all and its obvious from a story side why that is. We don’t who the Doctor is or why he is travelling through space and time, unable or later as we learn, un-willingly to go home to whatever planet he belongs to. But as for why he leaves, it must have been an important enough reason to bring along his granddaughter who he loves truly with all his heart (I say heart because in the first doctor’s era, no one ever mentions him having two). When he leaves Susan on Earth because in his mind he sees her need to be on her own and grown up as she has, she’s ready to be independent, it’s a quick and somewhat rash decision, but ultimately one that pains him greatly. After Susan’s departure he constantly picks up other young women because of how much he misses her and long after Hartnell’s departure, Susan remains a part of the series forever in the Doctor’s mind. It’s tender, along with its bumps as the struggle between generations, but its also what humanizes the Doctor early on.

As he continues to embrace the humanity of his companions, he soon begins to realize the inhumane parts of the universe as the alien and often sinister species they are. From simple mistakes that lead him and his companions into danger, to the brief stumbling into the wrong situation, we quickly see the Doctor go from just pure observer, to someone who must interfere and must intervene to save the day. And while not bombastic or overblown like the modern series, one has some of those most powerful Doctor lines that embody what we love about the Doctor as hero:

”Conquered the Earth? You poor, pathetic creatures, don't you realize? Before you attempt to conquer the Earth you will have to destroy ALL living matter!”

“Yes, and you will have to do far more than that! If the Daleks are doing something drastic, then we have to stop the Daleks!”

“Yes, you must travel with understanding as well as hope”

“Oppose you? Indeed I am going to oppose you, just in the same way that I oppose the Daleks or any other menace to common humanity.”

“Emotions! Love! Pride! Hate! Fear! Have you no emotions, sir, hmm?”

Though he too struggles with the idea of changing history. In fact he admonishes his fellow time traveler, The Monk for interfering with history as that’s the golden rule of Time Travel. Still in his unwillingness to interfere with history directly, we soon learn his accidental changes in fact influence history far greater than his friend, like when he inspires Caesar Nero to burn down Rome. Whoops!

And the other interesting part about the Doctor is that he portrays himself as a weak feeble old man. Something that everyone falls for, from his friends to his enemies. Sure he does get sick and doesn’t travel as quickly as others, but his strength is reserved for when he really needs or to engage in ‘fisticuffs’ when he wants to. But the feebleness also confuses people because of the brilliancy of his mind and his logic which often saves the day. It’s something that gets carried by all those follow whether they are older or younger than Hartnell was. Plus the feebleness helped Hartnell in multitudes when his health was taking a toll. The stumbling of his lines which at first was a choice, became the lifesaver for the producers towards the end until sadly he had to stop being in many episodes before his time on the show was over.

In all, I enjoy Hartnell’s Doctor with the understanding that he was made from producers and writers of the 1960s. It’s why his modern regenerations help to erase the bad parts and instead carry on the attributes that make the character of the Doctor so notable. I’m glad that we also have found ways to bring the first doctor back though sadly William Hartnell passed away on April 23, 1975. Because I think getting the chance for the Doctor to embrace his past helps the show grow ever towards the future.

#prep for the 60th #the first doctor #william hartnell

[abreathofthewild]

a touch of magic

Prompt: This TikTok

Tagline: Sometimes all you need in life is a touch of magic.

Summary: A Halloween in the life of Thor and Reader and their family.

Warnings: this fluff will rot your teeth.

Wordcount: 1664

Notes: I am so excited to be posting this! I was inspired by the above-mentioned TikTok and after deliberating which character I wanted to write this for, Thor felt like the most appropriate choice. This piece is self-indulgent fluff, friends. I hope y'all enjoy and that you get to have a safe and fun Halloween! ALSO: IMAGE IS NOT MINE I FOUND IT WITH NO EXTERNAL LINK ON PINTEREST.

It’s Halloween. You had chosen something simple for your costume: a long black dress with gauzy black sleeves that puffed a little at the shoulders and were cuffed at the wrist. A black witch’s hat with a large swooping brim sat smartly on your head. Typically, you went all out but this year you really wanted your kids’ costumes to shine. It had taken you six months in between the creative writing courses you taught to sew Darcy’s Belle gown and half of that time to put together Cole’s knight armor. You could hear them clambering down the stairs now shrieking with laughter.

“Mm, I love that dress on you,” a deep voice said behind you. You applied your red lipstick as the final touch, smirking at Thor’s reflection in the mirror. His massive frame took up the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you an affectionately approving once-over. You turned and sauntered over to him, taking in the picture of your husband standing there. Even after all this time, there were moments where his words still made you shiver. He matched your movements, stepping further into the room and into your space as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Do you, now?” You stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s why I wore it.” Another kiss on his lips. He leaned into you, smiling as he returned the kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my wolfman.” It seemed only natural with his tousled golden hair and beard that he would recycle one of his favorite costumes and step out in the neighborhood as a werewolf. He wore a red and black flannel over a white shirt that he had cut in three spots with long slashes. His jeans were purposefully torn in a couple of places and instead of applying any product to his hair he had ruffled it and left it a bit unkempt. The best part in your opinion, however, was the fangs. “Love when you wear those,” you murmured, running your tongue along the fake teeth.

It didn’t take long for him to move you until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Wish we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he whispered, giving you a soft nip at the neck. A small gasp escaped your mouth as your gripped at him tighter. “Maybe we could get a babysitter,” he said as he kissed from your neck down the v of your dress. You could feel the familiar heat creep along your cheeks and flutter in your belly.

“Mommy! Daddy! Cole pushed me!” Darcy was exclaiming her frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Even from here, you could hear her stamping her little feet.

“Did not!” Cole chimed in with the vehemence characteristic of a seven-year-old trying to not get into trouble for bullying his six-year-old sister. You let out an exasperated laugh as Thor groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You sidled under his arm and grabbed his hand, dragging him along.

“It sounds very tempting hon’ but you know how much the kids have been looking forward to this year. Plus, they’d miss us. Plus,” you whispered as you pulled him in to rub the red smudges from his cheek and lips “I already got us a babysitter for tomorrow night.” You let go of his hand and gave one glance behind you, trying not to let your feet falter at the look in his eyes. He followed close behind.

The scene downstairs wasn’t so great as the one you had just left. Darcy had started crying and Cole looked a little like he had been caught doing something wrong. You went to her but she shook her head saying in between tears “I want Daddy.” You motioned to her as Thor came down the stairs.

“Of course. He’s right there. I’ll talk to Cole for you instead, okay darlin’?” She nodded, her eyes puffy and red. Her bottom lip stuck out and was still quivering when Thor knelt in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and adjusting the laces on her dress sleeves. Even upset she was the prettiest little girl you had ever seen (you were biased), especially with the soft yellow of the ballgown she wore. Cole on the other hand looked quite miserable, his armor sticking out at odd angles because his arms were crossed. You took his hand and walked him a few feet away into the living room and sat on the couch so you were at eye level. “Cole, did you push your sister?” He didn’t quite look you in the eye.

“Yes,” he mumbled. You pursed your lips and gave him a disappointed glance, waiting for him to continue. “She told me my costume was stupid,” he finished quietly. You put your index finger under his chin and gently turned his face so he was looking at you.

“Do you like your costume?” He nodded, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. So like his father. “Well, then that’s all that matters. I know your sister hurt your feelings but that was no reason to push her. She’s allowed to not like your costume but she definitely needs to use better words. Can you think what you could have done differently?” A begrudging and wavery sigh escaped the little boy in front of you.

“I could have used my words too. I could have told her that hurt my feelings.” You gave him a beaming smile.

“Exactly. Next time, let’s work on using your words, okay? And if you need help, you can always ask Daddy or me. Now, I’m going to wave the magic wand and when I do, I want you to try really hard not to smile. You can’t smile, all right?” You tried to hide your own as you already saw the hints of one teasing at the corner of his mouth. It was an old trick your mother had used on you whenever you were unreasonably cross as a child or needed cheering up. She would tell you not to smile as she waved “the magic wand” which was really just her hand. Of course, the act of telling you not to smile alone would bring one immediately to your face. Sure enough, as you did the same to your little boy, a grin had sprung from ear to ear across his features. “There’s my beautiful boy. I need you to do one last thing for me. Can you apologize to Darcy? We want to have so much fun tonight!”

Cole bounded away with such enthusiasm you would have never known he had quarreled with his sister moments before. You followed behind him, grabbing your coat and his from the hooks by the front door. He was already standing in front of his sister and as Thor stood, he wrapped her up as best he could in his clanky armored arms.

“I’m sorry I pushed you, Darcy.” You watched with a knowing smile as she hugged her brother back. Her little voice piped up as you caught Thor’s eye, guessing he had had a similar talk with your daughter.

“I’m sorry I called your costume stupid.” He looked at you as the siblings slipped on their shoes, now chattering happily about the candy they were going to collect. You handed Cole his jacket to put on and stepped back as Thor wrapped an arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, once again taken aback by how blue his eyes were. The small crinkles of the skin there looked a little more pronounced but you knew it was from smiles and laughter. His hair had started silvering just a little around the sides, no longer the burnished gold of his youth. You brought his hand from your waist to your shoulder, kissing it tenderly. Even his hands now held some looks of a man who was still young but had worked long and hard.

He turned you towards him and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his gaze. It was tender and after all these years still full of promise. You felt something trip across the connection you shared. A hand to his heart told you it still beat for you, still thundered under your fingertips. The flame that had once burned bright hot when you first met had now turned to a steady glowing ember. One that would last a very long time.

“What?” He questioned you with a lazy grin. You just shook your head in a bit of disbelief.

“I’m just very, very happy,” you whispered. “I can’t believe you, all this, is mine to keep as long as I live.” He looked at you for a moment, stunned into silence. You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of words to answer you, instead settling on leaning in for yet another kiss.

“As long as we live, I’m yours and you are mine.” Nothing else mattered. It was you and him and the kids. Your family. Your family. To love and cherish and nurture. He stepped back and boomed “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?” The rumbling of their father’s voice brought Cole and Darcy to ecstatic attention as they bounced in their places by the front door. They both yelled “Me! Me!” as Thor opened the front door letting them run past its threshold and ushering you next to him as he locked it. “As long as we live,” he repeated and you nodded, grabbing his hand as you turned onto the sidewalk.

Leaves danced across the pavement in flaming reds and oranges and yellow. The kids trotted on ahead, screaming in delight as they caught up with neighborhood friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and promises. Promises that the two of you would always keep. And you were safe. And you were happy. And you were alive.

#thor #thor x reader #thor x reader and ocs #dad!thor #i feel like thor def made the most sense #because of how adorable he always looks with the kids #inthorantine writes #halloween

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (8/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I kept thinking this would be a short chapter but then BAM! words ahaha. Once again, thank you for the feedback! It truly means the world to me. I hope you enjoy!

Part 7

Since the spontaneous beach date in Santa Monica, time seemed to blend seamlessly from one day to the next. Nearly three, blissful weeks had flown by in a blink of an eye, and your relationship with Keanu blossomed like a fresh flower in the spring. The connection had grown more profound when the two of you crossed the line between friendship and romance, the sweet kiss on the sandy shores being the final push you needed.

The days that followed felt something akin to the beginning of the honeymoon phase in a relationship. Your parents had been right; Keanu was a good man who loved you very much. Each day he was winning over your heart more and more. He treated you like a queen with a tender adoration, unlike no other. He made you feel things you didn't believe anymore, pulling you away from the past you've known and despised, and replacing it with moments much better.

Keanu had made it his mission to bring you to all of the favorite places you used to go together. He took you to a fancy restaurant up in the hills, an art gallery you spent hours at, and most recently, a botanical garden where you found out about your newest affinity for flowers. Everywhere you went, Keanu shared with you cute little anecdotes from the last time you visited, adding more stories to cherish in your heart forever.

Along with that, you were also unable to keep your hands off of each other. Touches seemed to linger a little longer, and holding hands while out in public became the norm. You realized how much you were addicted to kissing Keanu, and how your heart would melt with every adoring look he gave after pulling away.

Sometimes, you would steal a kiss from Keanu when he least expected it. He would be in the midst of telling you about his day at the Arch office when suddenly, you would lean in and kiss the living daylights out of him. After a moment of surprise, he would quickly kiss you back, his lips perfectly melding with yours as he held you close. You didn't know of another man who could kiss you breathlessly like Keanu, and deep inside, you didn't want to.

You only wanted him.

Though the two of you had gotten closer over the last few weeks, you didn't miss the slight sadness hiding behind his eyes. Whenever you tried to get Keanu to open up about his feelings, he was often reluctant to do so, answering with short, vague responses that barely skimmed the surface. Something was clearly troubling him, and it was a bit worrisome that he couldn't tell you why.

But you still trusted him. Perhaps it was quite naive of you to believe that he has done nothing wrong, but he never gave you a reason not to. Your best guess was that he continued to blame himself for your accident. There could have been a quarrel that night, causing you to leave the house, which wasn't unusual for you to do so. After all, you did have a bad temper, and a bad temper was typically followed by impulsive decisions, usually unfortunate ones.

Such as driving in the dark, in the middle of a nasty storm.

And if you were correct, then Keanu shouldn't feel guilty about what had happened, and he needed to understand that.

"Y/N?"

A gentle voice spoke your name, and you glanced up, seeing Harry, the receptionist at the office. Your doctor had cleared you to return to work earlier that week, and you were excited to finally have something to do rather than stay at home all day. You weren't sure what exactly your job entailed, but being that it's related to one of your passions, you couldn't wait to get started.

"Hey, Harry," you smiled as you stood up from your seat, smoothing out the wrinkles from your blouse.

"Nicholas is ready for you in his office," the older gentleman informed you. "It really is great seeing you again here. Everyone was so worried when we got word of your accident and the amnesia. I almost didn't believe it until you walked in here and didn't recognize me right away. But all that matters is that you're fine now, and you're back."

"Thank you. I appreciate the card you sent me while I was in the hospital. It was lovely of you to do that."

"Of course, honey. You and I were inseparable, and I wish you could remember the shenanigans we've done here."

"Me too," you added. "Don't worry, one day we'll get lunch together and catch up."

"I can't wait." Harry beamed brightly, leading the way to Nicholas' office.

Stopping in the hallway just several feet from your boss' door, Harry turned around to face you. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," you answered, sensing the slight jitters in your body.

"Don't worry, Nick is a nice guy. You're going to love him," Harry responded before approaching the office and knocking lightly on the wooden door. "Sir, she's here."

Seconds later, the door swung open, revealing a tall man with a bright smile, joy and relief emanating from his face as his eyes settled on you. He was younger than you had expected him to be, more charming and good-looking, too. You felt Harry softly squeeze your shoulder before walking away, leaving you alone with Nicholas.

"I can't believe that you're back," he said, stepping to the side and allowing you to enter his office. "When Harry mentioned that you were coming to visit today, I was ecstatic. We've missed you around here. Well, mostly me because I thought I had lost the best assistant I've had."

Sitting down in front of his desk, you studied the walls around the room. It was decorated with what you assumed were his best works, as well as the plaques, certificates, and awards he had received for his talent. According to Molly, Nicholas was very well-known in the industry, and you were lucky to have worked alongside him.

"Impressive, huh?" You heard him say, and you shifted your gaze forward. "It took years of hard work and dedication. Not impossible as some people may think."

"I didn't pursue a career in this at first because that's exactly what I had thought—it was impossible."

Nicholas nodded. "That wasn't your mindset any more after you started working with me. You have the talent and tenacity. I could see you owning a successful business one day."

"Really?" You smiled at him.

"Surely," he replied, sliding a portfolio towards you. "Here, these are your most recent works. Back in January, we were doing this big fashion shoot in Prague. Soon after it was over, we went to Paris and then Milan. Your gift really shone at that time, and I'm very proud of how far you've come."

Flipping through the photographs, you couldn't believe that this what you were now doing for a living. It certainly was a step up from those boring 9 to 5 jobs you used to have.

"We actually have another project for a client coming up soon. It'll be a week in Japan, and I was hoping that you'll be well enough to come."

"That sounds amazing, and it would be an honor," you began, closing the portfolio and handing it back to Nicholas. "But I'm not sure if it’s the best idea to do so soon. I don't think I'm as good now than I was before the crash."

"Nonsense," Nicholas chuckled. "You are a natural, and I've known that since the very first day you walked in here. I'll tell you what, just think about it and get back to me in a week or two. I would really love to have you back on our team again."

"Okay," you nodded your head, accepting his suggestion. "I'll think about it and let you know if my decision changes."

"Good," he grinned, giving you two thumbs up before getting up from his seat. "Now, let me show you around and re-introduce you to everyone else. I'm sure they're all excited to see you."

---

You were practically skipping out of the building at the end of the day, overwhelmed with excitement knowing that you would be officially back to work next Monday. Although you wouldn't be doing everything you were usually responsible for, Nicholas was willing to use the time you're there to train you again.

As you walked to the quiet parking lot across the street, you heard the clicking of a camera shutter, a sound that was unmistakable in your ears. There was a sudden flash of bright light, followed by another click, whirr, and repeat. It was coming from behind you, you could tell, and your feet began picking up the pace. You could already spot Keanu's car which you had borrowed parked at the very end of the lot, and you quickly searched for the keys inside your purse.

"Damn it," you muttered when you stumbled, dropping your bag and its contents all over the concrete.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as you caught a glimpse of the stranger approaching you. It wasn't that you were scared that he might hurt you. You had become somewhat used to the presence of paparazzi whenever you and Keanu were out and about. But this was the first time that you were alone, cornered by one, and you didn't know what to expect.

"Here, let me help you, Y/N," the man's deep voice sounded as he crouched right beside you, a camera ready in his hand.

"No, it's fine," you gruffly spoke, grabbing your belongings and tossing them back into the purse as fast as you could. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Hey, there's no need to be worried," he assured. Though he wasn't menacing, you could tell that trouble lay ahead the more he spoke to you. "I only want to talk, that's all."

Finally, you stood up and swung your purse over your shoulder, walking briskly towards your vehicle. "No, I don't want to talk to you."

"Listen, Y/N, I'm running a story here about you and your boyfriend Keanu," the man trailed closely behind you. Merely a few steps more, you thought to yourself, and you would escape his bold intrusiveness. "There's been reports of your break-up before the accident—"

"Break-up?" you halted for a brief second, the mention of it catching you off-guard. Turning your head, you looked at the man in the eye. "You must be mistaken."

You didn't know why you were still talking to him. What you should be doing was getting inside the car and driving back home.

Back to Keanu.

But your mind couldn't shake away the strange feeling unexpectedly washing over you. You drew in a shallow breath, unable to ignore a certain uneasiness. You dared not to ask anything further, afraid that the man's answer would be nothing but hearsay. Yet, you remained intrigued, not fully understanding why. It sounded familiar as if it wasn't the first time you had heard it.

"Yeah, break-up," the man carefully nodded. "The two of you hadn’t been seen together in months. There were reports of tension between you and Keanu for a while. Surely this rings a bell, yes?"

You stayed silent. According to Keanu, no one outside your family and a select number of friends knew about your amnesia. His team hasn't caught wind of any article mentioning your current condition either, and you wanted to keep it that way.

"I-I have to go," you stammered out before promptly opening the driver's side door and sliding inside.

From the rearview mirror, you could see the man taking more pictures of you, even as you pulled out of the parking space. You drove away from the building and further down the street, turning into a convenience store lot once you were sure that you had gotten far enough. Putting the car in park, you sat there for a moment, hands still gripping the wheel as doubt gnawed at your guts.

The quiet purr of the engine filled the empty air, offering itself as a fleeting distraction from the hurricane of thoughts swirling inside your head. You didn't want to believe what some stranger had said to you, but you couldn't easily brush it off. It perturbed you, causing you to second guess everything you know, what Keanu has told you.

The perfect relationship you had painted— the one deeply ingrained in your mind for some time— was now falling apart. It crumbled down the more you tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle, your heart both seeking and fearing the truth. You had always ignored the possibility that Keanu could have been lying to you, pushing the idea of it away because you wanted to hold onto the happiness.

But perhaps you were indeed that naive after all.

---

Keanu flipped back to the first page of the script he had finished reading, thoroughly enjoying the plot and the storyline of the character he was being asked to play. He could see himself accepting the role and working on the movie scheduled to shoot early next year. The only thing holding him back once again was you.

Things between him and you were going great, to say the least. It felt like everything was back to normal. The kind of normal which Keanu had missed so dearly and at one point, thought that the two of you would never get to experience again. This entire journey of showing you the memories that you've lost was also reminding him of what was special about you. It reminded him of why he fell in love with you, something he had forgotten before the accident.

You would be coming home anytime soon, so Keanu decided to simply wait and discuss with you about the upcoming project. As he sat there on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through the hundreds of emails on his phone, another text came in from Molly, and he heaved out a sigh. Opening the notification, he then read the words on the screen, realizing that it was the same question she has been asking him for weeks.

Have you told her yet?

No, Keanu typed out and quickly hit send.

When will you? It's been weeks, Keanu. She deserves to know the truth.

Ignoring Molly's response, he deleted the messages and set his cell down on the coffee table. Keanu was lucky that she had not mentioned anything about it yet to you despite how often you and Molly were talking now. He knew it would only be a matter of time before she told you, however, either on purpose or a slip of the tongue. Keanu should be grateful that Molly was giving him the chance to confess to you himself instead of hearing it from someone else.

As if it fared any better the last time.

Keanu was mulling over his predicament when he heard the car pulling into the driveway. Quickly, he got up and headed to the front door, ready to greet you and ask you how your day went. But when he stepped outside and saw the crestfallen look on your face, the smile he had on faltered, withering away as he hurriedly met you halfway.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen?" Keanu probed, bringing his hands up to hold the sides of your face. You didn't even glance up as you pushed him away, silently walking past him. You almost made it to the door when you paused, your body tense as it slowly spun around to face him.

"Ke," you said his name in a whisper, your teary gaze meeting his own. You opened your mouth again to speak, but no other words would come out. Keanu waited as you attempted to collect yourself, but your chest continued to rise and fall with rapid breaths. "I-I can't… There are just too many thoughts in my head. I-I feel so scattered."

Exhaling deeply, Keanu recognized it almost immediately. You were clearly overwhelmed, and he knew a way to calm you down. Closing in the distance between you and him, he placed a palm on your cheek, urging you to look at his eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"I-I don't know," you stuttered lowly, much to Keanu's shock. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"Then let me help," he spoke softly. His hand moved down to grasp yours, tugging it slightly as he began heading towards the garage, encouraging you to follow.

Punching in the code, the door opened slowly, revealing his array of motorcycles inside. Keanu led you to his most treasured bike, his sleek and elegant black Norton Commando which had become your favorite one to ride with him. He caught the hesitation etched in your features, so he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I need you to trust me right now, can you do that?"

You shrugged, eyes remaining downcast. "What are we doing?"

"We're going for a ride," Keanu answered before swiftly retrieving two helmets and the keys by the back wall. "Here, put this on while I wheel the bike out."

Moments later, Keanu was on the motorcycle with you sitting behind him. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his waist, afraid of losing balance. The bike idled underneath as he glanced over his shoulder, seeing you looking back at him.

"Don't worry, just relax and hold on," he said over the rumbling sound of the engine running.

Pushing the kickstand up, Keanu twisted the handlebars and smoothly pulled out of the driveway and onto the quiet street. Usually, he would have gone at a faster speed but decided to drive a mile or two under the posted limit. He wanted you to get used to the feeling of riding a bike again, which he hoped was currently working.

He felt you leaning in close, your chest resting on his back as he carefully navigated up and down the winding roads. The cool nighttime breeze blew gently into Keanu's face, but all he could focus on besides the path ahead was the heat radiating from you. A familiar warmth spread throughout his body as you clung on to him.

Yet another thing he has missed.

Reaching a red light, Keanu placed a foot down to steady the bike, waiting for the signal to change. He then looked back at you, noticing how your eyes had softened and the small smile on your lips. "Are you okay?"

You gave him a nod. "Yeah. I actually quite like this."

Keanu removed a hand from the handlebar and placed it above the one splayed on his abdomen. He intertwined his fingers with yours, allowing the simple touch to bring you comfort and reassurance. Eventually, the light turned green, and he started to drive again, the destination in mind just another mile up ahead.

Slowing down as he reached a bend, he brought the bike to a stop along the side of the road and shut off the ignition. Keanu slid his helmet off, brushing his messy locks back as you did the same. 

"Is this…" you trailed off, seeing the bright lights of Los Angeles in the distance, the scenic view in front of you nearly taking your breath away. "This is the overlook from that picture back at the house."

Keanu smiled as he took your hand and began strolling through the grassy hill, bringing you closer to the edge. The sky was like a dark, infinite canvas with millions of twinkling stars painted upon it. They shone brilliantly in your eyes that were filled with wonder and awe. He led you to a wooden bench, gesturing for you to sit before taking the space next to you.

There was silence, and as much as Keanu wanted to break it, he let you bask in it for now. The overlook was a special place for both of you, not only because it was where he kissed you for the first time. It was the place you went to when life got too stressful, and you needed peace. It was a place for you to get away for a little while just to think.

"When I left the office, something happened," you revealed, your attention still on the skyline. "A guy approached me, one of those paparazzi, and he said we broke up before the crash."

Keanu's breath stalled as your glossy gaze slowly shifted to him.

"I know I shouldn't be paying them any attention or believe a word that they say," you sighed. "But it stuck to me and left me wondering if there's any truth to it."

This was it. It was Keanu's time to finally come clean. This was his opportunity to tell you what truly happened that night and the months leading up to it. As he sat there staring into your pleading eyes, he could already sense the hurt in them, and Keanu knew he would only be adding more.

"We didn't break up," he said tautly, his voice thick. "But for a while, we were in a bad place in our relationship."

"A bad place?" You repeated shakily. "What happened?"

Keanu licked his dry lips, his eyes flickering down in shame. "We were fighting a lot. I was doing a movie out of town, and the distance made it worse. I'd promise that I'd be home to spend time with you but never followed through. When I did come back, I let out all of my stress on you and pushed you away whenever you tried to get close. You were growing tired of it—of me. Meanwhile, I just ignored it."

Truth.

"The night of your accident, we got into a huge argument. I had said so many hurtful things to you that I still can't believe those words came out of my mouth," he continued, running a hand over his face.

Half-truth.

Keanu still couldn't force himself to admit it, the real truth. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't say it. It was already difficult for him to tell you pieces of the story. The memories of you and him screaming at each other and hurling insults broke his heart all over again.

If there was one thing Keanu had learned that night, it was that he couldn't lose you. He has gone through tragedy after tragedy for years, and he didn't want you to be another one of his devastating losses. He believed that he'd make up for his mistakes later on and prove to you how much he regretted making them.

Prove to you that he still loved you despite what he had told you before you stormed out of the house.

"Y/N?" He murmured, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, gently shaking you out of your daze. "Please, say something."

You blinked at him as you placed your hand on top of his. "We all make mistakes, Keanu."

"I know, and I didn't want to tell you because I was scared."

You knitted your brows. "Scared of what?"

"That you'd leave me. I was scared that if I told you that we were at the end of our ropes, you wouldn't stay. But I need you, Y/N. I love you, and I can't see myself spending a day without you."

"I don't like lies, Keanu." Shaking your head, you cupped the side of Keanu's face, the pad of your thumb brushing against the prickly scruff along his jaw. "You should have told me this earlier."

A single tear streaked down his cheek, and you wiped it away. "I know."

“But is that all?”

Swallowing thickly, Keanu nodded once.

Lie.

“Okay, I believe you.”

He exhaled a long breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep that from you.”

"You don't have to be perfect, Ke, because no one on this earth is. I might not remember how I felt back then, but all that matters is what I'm feeling now."

"And that is?"

You smiled softly at him before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "I feel like I'm falling in love with you."

With his free hand, Keanu tilted your chin up so that your eyes could meet. Though there was less weight on his shoulders now, he had yet to share with you one last important detail of the story. He's now caught in a battle between telling you to clear his conscience or let the secret be forgotten but risk dealing with the consequences if you end up finding out on your own.

But when you leaned up to his face, your soft lips sweetly molding to his, Keanu saved the fight with himself for another time. Because god forbid you do uncover the truth and leave, he wanted to at least savor every moment he has left with you.

Part 9

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness​ @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lussdew​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @allie1804-fan

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #my fics #reader insert #rpf

[cranehusbands]

love, or lack thereof

pathfinder/wattson | natalie paquette; requited crushes; soulmate au; apex rarepair week; 1520 words

a/n: two for two, though this was posted a little later than yesterdays due to technical difficulties! sorry about that ^^;;

i have been really excited to write some wattfinder for a little while now, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so! we as a fandom need to treat them both as characters with their own autonomy and not infantilize them, and i think they could come to really understand each other! i wanted to show that through this fic, as well as throwing around the idea that soulmates aren’t always destiny - they’re people you find and bonds you forge through your own love and efforts. <3

once again for @apex-rarepairweek as the day 2 prompt, soulmates!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: And then there was Pathfinder, the happy little MRVN unit that brought that home to her in a totally different way. Ever trusting, much like herself, expressive in himself but never losing that happy tone in his voice. He cared for his friends - his family - and talked of travel and dreams, but never really knowing who he was, or why he was here. But despite that, he carried on with that in stride, forever blind to the future. [...] He treated her with kindness and love, and it came to the point that sometimes she missed his company and high fives, though this was… a different kind of loneliness than that she had once experienced as a child, alienated from any other children that would pass through due to her intelligence and special position. She couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was, but there was just… something about Pathfinder that she didn’t want to lose, not for a moment.

Soulmates are found, not made.

 That’s what she’s always been told. That she would find her soulmate, or they would find her, somehow, isolated in her work for the Syndicate, seemingly barricaded behind the ring she was trying to create. Natalie grew up with stories in her head, about how her papa met her mother, his soulmate, or stories of true love and happiness that was just… found. It was nice enough, but it never seemed logical, to her. Who was willing to take that chance? Couldn’t it go wrong? Even as a child that dreamed in fairytales, the idea of a soulmate always worried her. The mark on the inside of her wrist always haunted her, and she thought that she could not escape the inevitable.

 But she wasn’t a child hiding in that shadow anymore - she was a grown woman, a professional electrical engineers, and an Apex Legend. She had lost her father so suddenly, but gained her new family just as quickly, making her home beside her own creation. And she loved her new family dearly - Dr Caustic was a reserved man, but he valued her intelligence, and did not object to her rambling and flapping of her hands. Elliott was funny, always telling stories of his family and life on Solace, and Anita was a hell of a shot, giving her pointers whenever she could, but not with her usual abrasiveness - she was kinder, self-aware of her own tendency to be quite scary at times. Makoa was caring to her needs, Octavio appealed to her curiosity and the tendency to be rash once in a blue moon. The Apex Games was her house, but the Apex Legends were her home.

 And then there was Pathfinder, the happy little MRVN unit that brought that home to her in a totally different way. Ever trusting, much like herself, expressive in himself but never losing that happy tone in his voice. He cared for his friends - his family - and talked of travel and dreams, but never really knowing who he was, or why he was here. But despite that, he carried on with that in stride, forever blind to the future. It was a blissful ignorance that she could admit she was almost jealous of - he was not bound by such an innate concept as a soulmate. But he was still soul searching, and still so loving and kind to everyone he met, even if they didn’t return the sentiment, like the world was his soulmate and he was ready to give out as many parts of him until it loved him back, as he loved it.

 She’d held this sentiment as the two worked with and against each other through the seasons, the two of them forming a bond quite quickly due to his need for the occasional repair and her curiosity with his components. He treated her with kindness and love, and it came to the point that sometimes she missed his company and high fives, though this was… a different kind of loneliness than that she had once experienced as a child, alienated from any other children that would pass through due to her intelligence and special position. She couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was, but there was just… something about Pathfinder that she didn’t want to lose, not for a moment.

 There was a quiet night, after a game that day, when there was a familiar voice at the door to her room, littered with parts and unusually messy (she liked to work that way).

“Miss Natalie?” The robot had caught her as she was working on her gear, a malfunction with her fences had caused a firefight with an unfair advantage, which was something she didn’t enjoy. 

She jumped a little, pulling up her safety goggles with a small smile. “Pathfinder, hello! You… didn’t knock.”

“Oh, I did knock, you were just busy working, and I didn’t want to just stand there and scare you when you looked up, so…” He trailed off and sheepishly tapped his fingers together, and it seemed whatever annoyance she once had eased a little.

“A-ah, well… sorry about that, my friend. Did you need something? Is your grapple acting up again?”

“Oh, no, you fixed it really well! Thank you, friend.” The screen on his chest flashed like sunshine, as he tapped a hand against where his grapple was hidden in his metal shell. “Well, I just… I had some questions, and Elliott is out doing a press release, so I can’t ask him…”

Of course, Elliott was always his first choice - that worried her, for as much as she loved the trickster, she knew that he didn’t treat Pathfinder the best, or at least, as a friend should. That was something someone should speak to him about. Natalie took her safety goggles off and placed them on her desk, giving the robot her full attention. “Well, what’s up?”

He paused for a moment, assessing whether that was a pun or not before he nodded, taking a seat on the stool beside her. “Well, I wanted to ask… what’s a soulmate?”

The mention of the concept made her freeze, before she looked away for a moment and fiddled with a few loose wires in the base of her pylon. “Well, that’s… why do you ask?”

“I don’t know… I have heard a lot of people say it and celebrate it, but I never knew what it meant. Is it like… a super best friend?”

“In… a way. It’s a lover tied to you by destiny. The one you’re supposed to be with all your life… identified with a mark, l-like this one.” Slowly, she pulled off one of her thick work gloves and showed Pathfinder the inside of her wrist, where she bore a small, glowing mark.

“Oh… that’s pretty.”

“Mhm.”

“...You don’t think so?”

“Huh?” Natalie looked up, at the optic eye now staring up at her. “Well, it is pretty, but…”

“...Do you think it’s silly?”

She didn’t reply, only looked away. Silly, possibly - suffocating, almost definitely.

The robot didn’t respond back for a moment, simply looking at her with a small tilt of his head, before he continued with a thought out loud. “I think you should be able to find your own soulmate.”

“What?”

“Well, if they’re destiny, there’s no point in waiting around - that’s why I’m looking for my creator the way I am. You have to make noise to be heard.”

“That’s… oddly profound, my friend.”

He smiled, or at least, his screen did, a bright beaming yellow reflecting on the LEDs embedded in his chest, beating as any real heart would do - full of love, and hope. “Bloodhound taught me that one, they’re very smart.”

The engineer paused, before she couldn’t help but chuckle. “I suppose they are.”

 Silence fell between them for another moment, but they did not move. She watched the robot shift in place on the stool, and for once, his screen was blank, nothing shown. It was oddly unnerving.

“Miss Natalie?”

“Oui, Pathfinder?”

“Do you want to be my soulmate?”

She was almost taken aback by the question, looking up to him with a slight eyebrow raise. “Pardon?”

“Well, I… it’s silly, but… everyone has been so nice, and that makes me happy, but whenever you’re nice to me I get even happier, and I’ve been searching for so much for so long that I-”

“-want to embrace what you have found?” She finished his thought with her own, watching him look to her and nod slowly. Of course, this made sense - the emotional wanderlust he held was soul searching, but he never knew what it was like to have something - someone - that was his. They were kindred souls, in that way, at least. Natalie smiled to herself. Of course - the loneliness she felt was longing for that comfort of love that she found. She just didn’t realize because it wasn’t something that she had just found… it was a bond she had nurtured, and cherished. A bond she had found. “...I will, Pathfinder.”

He paused, sitting up a little straighter in surprise before clapping his hands together, his heart on the screen glowing a warm, loving pink, almost welcoming her in before he held out a hand to her, pinkie finger extended in a promise. “We’ll be best soulmates forever!”

The engineer giggled, taking her own pinkie finger in his own and curling it around the cold metal appendage, a light dusting of pink brushing across her cheeks. “Pour toujours et à jamais. Always and forever.”

Pathfinder reached out and pressed his head against hers with a gentle bonk, which made her laugh again, bringing up a hand to hold what would have been his cheek, pausing for a moment at the red light reflected onto her skin before kissing his optic with a gentleness and tenderness she didn’t know she possessed. And for the first time since she could remember, Natalie wasn’t afraid of the future.

 Soulmates could be found, but they could also be made - both figuratively and literally, it seemed.

#apex legends #pathfinder (apex legends) #wattson #wattfinder #apex rarepair week #apex legends tag #dahl.doc

[hollyhomburg]

Butterfly (Part 3)(BTS x Reader)

Summary: You’d always imagined that your relationship would be over if your seven boyfriends found out you self-harmed. But after a slip up involving Namjoon, everyone finds out about your bad habit. To your surprise, they make it clear that they’re not going anywhere.  

Warnings: Panic attacks, Graphic depictions of self-harm, , suicide attempt, hospitals, panic attacks, breakdowns, horror, blood

W/c: 13.6k

Song rec: Make it right ~ BTS

A/N: I know it's been a long time but I hope people enjoy this installment of Butterfly! warning- it’s pretty heavy, but it ends well. As I've stated before, it’s not my intent to romanticize mental illness, prompt someone into a negative headspace, or make light of any mental health issues. This work has been cathartic and sometimes difficult to write. 

Please, if you feel like you are not in a good place, reach out to someone, I promise you people care more than you think they do- Even if it doesn't feel that way. 

National Suicide Prevention hotline: [phone]

*** This chapter contains graphic content of a that may trigger some readers, Please take note of the warnings and Read at your own discretion ***

The day is soft and leisurely- almost euphoric, people running around the Han river and the sun shining somehow brighter. Of course, the humidity outside is an oppressive weight that stops everything from being completely enjoyable and keeps clothes sticky. But it fails to put a damper on the overall incandescent mood that all of the boys feel. 

As Practice finishes earlier than expected, a rarity in itself; the boys feel the giddiness of summer making any exhaustion dissipate. What is rarer is that they have no plans for the next day or the day after that- a rare stretch of free time a respite from their constantly full schedules, and they don’t want to waste a moment of it

The ac unit is pumping freely into the air as they step into their apartment, the same place where all farce falls away. Suddenly hands get heavy and tender and Shoulders lean into arms that will gladly support them. Kisses pressed to hot sun warmed lips that linger in the safety of things known and mutually cherished. Hoseok trips over Jungkook’s shoes but only laughs instead of scolds Hoseok gives him a playful nibbling kiss in retaliation. Everything is good- nothing stressful. Idyllic.

Jungkook claims the largest shower to a chorus of groans from the others who are also sticky with sweat from the dance practice.  The 3 other bathrooms are  steadily claimed, eyebrows raised and questions asked with raised eyebrows, “want to join?” 

Jungkook takes off his clothes and puts them right into the washing machine. He grins when Yoongi tells him that he shouldn’t be a tease. And licks his lips in answer to the wandering hungry eyes, Tae already has Jimin pressed up against the counter in the kitchen, neither of them caring much that they’re both sweaty. But they won’t waste the day doing this here, there will be time for that later. 

Jungkook giggles and walks in the direction of the largest bathroom. The one just off of Namjoon’s room. The blinds drawn against the sun is the first indication that something might be wrong- that and, your clothes are folded there, neatly, on the bed, your wallet on top. 

You must have left it. He doesn’t remember you leaving in their clothes this morning, but maybe they’re clean and Namjoon just folded them for you. You do that sometimes, leave wearing their clothes claiming that theirs are so much more comfortable, only to forget half your wardrobe here. 

Jungkook smiles, thinking of how forgetful you can be, the countless times that you've gotten somewhere looked up and said “oh I forgot my phone!” and Namjoon would look over his shoulder and shake his head sometimes saying, “We spend too much time together you’re starting to act like me.” Hoseok slinging his arms around your shoulders from behind, frog walking with you for a few feet until it gets too inconvenient, making noises in time with your steps. Hoseok can’t see it but you're smiling but the rest of them can.  

“She’s just distracted by our handsomeness~” he sings, the same moment you join in. And Jungkook finds himself impossibly endeared, tipping his head into Hoseok's shoulder and grabbing your shoulders at the same time.

“Help- she’s been consumed by a junghope sandwich, someone get me a plate” Seokjin deadpans, making everyone erupt into laughter.

The memory is sweet and fond on jungkook's tongue. He misses you, he want you here right now to enjoy this day with them. He feels your absence as keenly as he would with any of the others. The clothes are a reminder that there is 1/8th of them missing. Though you were there that morning when they woke up (You’d slept between Jimin and Taehyung last night). You’ve probably gone back to your own apartment to get some work done. Sometimes Jungkook wonders why you even still live apart from them at all. 

“Hey has someone called Y/n? She should come over today!” his request is answered by a few muted agreements. Words swallowed by the largeness of the house.

Things have been so much better between you and Jungkook recently. Not quite the best, but he’s coming around and you’re letting him in again. Namjoon had given Jungkook a mountain of articles to read about helping people with your type of problems, and it’s safe to say he’s dedicated himself fully to the mantle of being an understanding boyfriend. understanding and not helpful- because it was irrational to think that they could fix your mental health (Namjoon’s words not his- Jungkook swears he’s an expert on this). 

The lingering awkwardness felt between you two had disappeared after he’d done the hard thing and apologized. 

The night Jungkook finally man’s up, You’re in Jimin’s room. Fiddling around with something on his computer trying a find a new drama for the two of you to watch having finished the previous one the night before. Jimin’s hair is curly and floppy and bleach fried. He reclines on his bed in a baggy set of blue pajamas and prattles to you about things on twitter when Jungkook had come in, propping up his shoulder on the door frame. 

“Hey, do you mind if i um- talk to you for a minute?” Jimin looks up from his phone, sending a concerned look in your direction, almost looking like he might want to stay to mediate. The fact that Jimin thinks he might need too only makes Jungkook feels worse. But he swallows down the feelings shame, because this isn’t about him or how he feels- this is about how he’d hurt you and owning up to it.

So he can’t take it personally, Jungkook knows Jimin doesn't want to risk another incident like the one a few days ago where Jungkook yelled at you in the hallway and inadvertently made you go… hurt yourself. No mincing words. Of course, that hadn’t been his intent, but that had been the effect of his actions. 

Whatever look you give Jimin must make him decide that it’s okay to leave the two of you alone together, “I’ll go get the popcorn.” Jimin says as he gets up off his bed, brushing Jungkook’s hip affectionately with the tips of his fingers in passing as he slips by and gives you both privacy. Jungkook shifts from foot to foot. Until your eyes flicker up from the computer. 

“You can just sit Kookie.” Jungkook squishes down on the edge of Jimin’s bed, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees As you forgo the computer and turn the rolly chair in his direction. He runs his hands through his hair. 

Jungkook looks at the ground, unable to meet your eyes,  “I don’t know where to start.” You don’t respond, and when he looks up he finds you not looking at him either. Your hands clenched together in your lap, twining over each other in the way he knows you do when you get nervous.

Are you thinking about indulging in your bad habit right now? Is that why you look so distracted? Is it like a notification on your phone? Dragging your attention away from the present? How does it feel? Are you okay? Would you even tell me if you weren’t? Tell me love - tell me please- I only want to-

This isn’t about me, he reminds himself.  

“I want to apologize to you- I know that I didn’t make enough effort when you first told us about your…your self-harm” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out, but it’s a start to being more forward at least. He doesn’t want to tip-toeing around it, especially when he knows you have more open discussions about it with the others. You finally look up at him, at jungkook’s words falling uncontained and unfiltered “But I want to be someone you can rely on- like you rely on the others. Like I should have been in the beginning. God do you know I would get jealous?” 

That prompts a little quirk of your lips. Small and barely there, and he feels the tension in his shoulder break. Jealousy is never something that any of you really get in this giant poly relationship as impossible as that sounds. There is always so much love to go around, everyone spoils each other so that it’s easier to ask for more space than for less. There is very little room for jealousy and even less time for it. “I can’t imagine why.” 

“When I would see you with Yoongi or Namjoon, and you guys would go all quiet when I walked into the room because I knew you were talking about mental health stuff- Jesus, I just wanted to be a part of it- but I let my stupid preconceived notions get in the way of that.” Jungkook swallows. “But what I’m trying to say is that- I’m sorry for treating you so terribly, and I’m going to change so that You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me anymore- and I know you can’t forgive me but-“ 

Jungkook is knocked out of his reverie by your hands, soft and delicate, cup his cheeks, and he realizes he was looking at his feet again. Thumbs come up to brush across his cheeks affectionately. “Jungkook it’s okay- I know it’s not easy,” your lips quirk down at the side, eyes getting a little shadowed, a little distracted by whatever internal monologue it is that makes you sad, the opposite of what he wants,“I know I’m not easy-“

“No don’t-don’t excuse what I did.” Jungkook says with a shake of his head, grabbing your hands in his and holding onto them tight.  “It doesn’t have to be easy, you should never feel like you need to be perfect like you have to sacrifice yourself and your happiness to be perfect for us. If I was a good boyfriend I would have accepted you for you and not demanded you change without a reason. I want to try to be better- to understand you better- If you still want me.” 

His voice tapering off into an unsure hush. In the weeks since everything blew up in between you two, it’s been a little off-kilter. It’s not like you and Jungkook had broken up and he and the other boys were still affectionate. But you could both admit that it had sort of feeling like you’d broken up. And you realize as you look down at him, his eyes wide, the chiseled jaw that you love so much and the kind man in your arms that you know never meant to hurt you, you don’t want to stay in limbo. 

You slot yourself more fully between his legs, standing and tilting his head up to look at you his hands clenched on either of your thighs, Your nose traces his as you whisper, “bunny” chiding and delicate, Jungkook hates the nickname from anyone but you. Your breath a warm soothing wave over his skin. “I’ll always want you.” you kiss him, soft and sweet, and before Jungkook realizes it he’s crying a little breaking the kiss and burying his face again in your stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs through the tears, holding onto you tightly like you're going to leave, but you aren’t going anywhere. 

you run your fingers through his long hair, curling the ends around your fingers. “I forgive you Jungkook.”

Jimin and Taehyung watch through the crack in the door, munching on the popcorn as Seokjin walks by with his sugar glider on his shoulder. “What are you two meddlers up too.” He whispers if he listens closely he can hear you and…is that Jungkook? Talking softly. His hand hovers on Tae’s hip. 

“Just listening to the show hyung,” Taehyung says through a mouthful of popcorn. Grin boxy and happy. 

Inside you and Jungkook are too. His hand running up and down your back, face buried in your stomach, as he promises you that he will never dismiss you so terribly again, that he’ll treat you better, that he’ll treasure you every day. 

He wanted to fix it.  

Fix it so badly. 

When Jungkook opens up the door to the bathroom, on that hot day in June, he realizes that he might not get the chance.

Is this another bad dream? An intrusive thought, Jungkook stands there frozen. 

How many times had he had nightmares about this happening, how many times had he dreamt of finding you like this? how many times had the others had the same fear?

This has to be another bad dream. A piercing scream, half shout of anguish, Jungkook’s disconnected from the sound even though he knows it comes from his own mouth. 

But the image of you, lying eyes closed and prone in the bathtub, lips blue and skin ashen, the cold water blood red, your hand dangling over the side and a puddle on the tile, won’t go away no matter how many times he blinks. 

A still life. A painting, 

His knees hit the floor with a crack but he pulls himself over to you, lifting himself up on the edge of the bathtub, his breathing ragged and tearing through him, “please please don’t- be- don’t” he chants as he presses his fingers to your throat, and nearly sags to the floor when he finds a heartbeat there, beating unevenly but strong, still there, and still alive.

“Fuck Y/n!” he sobs, hauling your body up and out of the water, not caring about the blood that splatters against his bare chest or soaks into his grey track pants. “Someone! Please! Someone Call-“ but his choking sobs cut him off. He screams for his hyung’s, voice shrill, breaking. He shouts again and again and again for Namjoon, for Seokjin or anyone of his hyungs, for his loves, the people that have always helped him and loved him.  

Jungkook shakes and sobs as he pulls you up against his chest. Small and limp and unmoving. And someone must here him because all of a sudden Jungkook hears a voice on the phone with police and paramedics rattling off their address. Seokjin’s shaking hands on his cellphone, choking back something in his throat as he looks into the bathroom and can’t- can’t handle it, turns away to steady himself and talk to the operator.  

And someone is telling Jungkook to let you go- “Let go jungkook please”, Namjoon climbing over Jungkook to push him back- what’s going on- Namjoon why are you- what could they even- his back hits the wall after Namjoons shove. He looks up, Namjoon lying you out flat so that he can put his full weight on your wrists which are still gushing blood a little bit- but they seem to mostly have stopped with the added pressure.

Someone’s sobbing in the other room. Jungkook has your head in his lap tears drip onto your chest as he grits his teeth, and all Jungkook can say is your name, like a record that’s stuck on a loop. Namjoon holds your wrists down and keeps you from bleeding out- if you haven’t already. 

A few Minutes drip by, like the leaky faucet in the tub, like the blood on the bathroom floor soaking into the grout of the tile. 

The apartment is a flush with activity and everything hazy through panic, the idyllic world disturbed by all this red, and you and your limp body. The pill bottle clatters as Namjoon accidentally knocks it off of the side of the tub, though now it’s empty- Hoseok’s sleeping pills? didn’t he just fill his prescription last week? Why is the bottle empty?

Namjoon and Yoongi talk to the paramedics because Jungkook can’t, can’t see anything other than your face, your lips turned blue, the same ones he kisses whenever he gets the chance. The ones he could never kiss enough- maybe would never kiss again. The paramedics drag him back, get him out of the bathroom as they rush because there simply isn’t room. 

Namjoon and Jungkook are the ones who get to pile into the ambulance with you. Though they’re originally only going to let Namjoon in, Jungkook won't leave your side, won't have anything come through the haze- not the words of the paramedic telling him to get out before they clothes the doors- not Namjoon who insists he comes. Both of them pile into the spot in the ambulance that’s meant for one person and not two above average size young men. 

The others will follow a short time later. The ambulance door closes against Jimin’s nearly shrieking sobs as Taehyung tries to hold him up, almost unable to under the weight of all this panic- just as week with fear his teeth gritted. 

You have to be alright- have to- they can’t lose you, not like this. Not when they should just be starting building a future with you. Yoongi drives everyone to the hospital and he does not speed and risk crashing. Though he does have to wipe away his tears whenever they have a stop light. And his whole body shaking too much to hold onto the steering wheel as well as he normally would- should- if he wants to make sure his family gets to the hospital unscathed. 

Jungkook and Namjoon arrive at the hospital and watch as you are loaded into the gurney, doctors in blue-green scrubs shout statistics and numbers like a separate language that makes little sense to either Namjoon or Jungkook. A nurse tugs Namjoon along asking about your allergies and getting a clearer story of what happened. 

Hoseok’s empty pill bottle is handed over as they push your hospital bed at a breakneck pace, disappearing behind doors that clearly state “operation gallery: doctors only” in red lettering. An orderly is pulling Jungkook back behind that line. But Jungkook can’t hear him, can’t hear anything beyond the ringing in his ears. 

Eventually, he gives up and leaves Jungkook watching those doors, waiting for you to come through it, someone put a sweatshirt on him at some point and it’s half zipped over his bare chest. Jungkook looks at his bloodstained hands for a second before his eyes go back to the doors, waiting for you to hop out and say “sorry just a bad prank!” but it doesn’t come, it doesn’t happen. 

He’s dimly aware of Namjoon talking a few feet away arguing with the nurse at the front desk. His low and panicked words, his begging “please- please is there anything you can tell us- how she’s doing- anything-“

The first flash of a camera startles Jungkook. 

He turns, someone in a facemask a cell phone out, another flash as his face. And then someone else, with another more professional camera who came from who knows where takes a photo of Jungkook. They must have been waiting outside of their apartment and followed them. 

After all, they do live in a complex known for their celebrity clientele. It’s a good bet that they didn’t even know who was in the ambulance and only hoped it was someone famous. And then Namjoon is there tugging Jungkook’s hood up and over his face with shaking hands as well as his own. He turns to the nurse asking for a private room to wait in. 

The hospital is already scrambling with activity by the time the others pull up. All in varying states of distress. The sun just barely setting. Seokjin supporting Jimin while Yoongi rushes through the paparazzi trying to remain stoic but unable to conceal his puffy eyes from them without a face mask. 

By the turn of the hour the internet and the news are roiling with questions. What was Bangtan doing at a hospital? Was one of their family members hurt? Was one of them hurt, why was the youngest covered with blood? Who was the young woman who came in just before them? The internet was abuzz with activity while the others filed in, intercepted by Namjoon, the only one who's somewhat steady because he has to be right now. 

Jungkook is still standing by the door, still watching it and waiting for you to reappear. The cameras flash regardless. By the end of the night, there will be enough photos that no one will be able to deny that yes it was him and the rest of Bts there. Was the youngest hurt? Why wasn’t anyone seeing to him?  

“Jungkook come on-“ Seokjin tries to grab his arm but Jungkook flings it off of them.

“No! She has to be okay hyung, she has too-“ he breaks off, a sob silencing him. The adrenaline is fading- His chest is breaking open like a cracked egg without anything to hold it in place. legs shaking and nearly giving out. 

“Jungkook- please” 

“No I’m not leaving-“ he gets out through gritted teeth. 

“There’s nothing more we can do Jungkook, we just have to wait,” Yoongi says, voice low, blinking away tears his shoulders shaking, hands fisted in the arms of Jungkook's sweatshirt. Through the glass, the cacophony of reporters is flashing, photographing their every movement. 

Though the hospital staff has quickly moved not to let people in. and keep a barricade at the door. They can still capture the way Yoongi’s fist is clenched around the bloody sleeve of Jungkook’s sweatshirt.

Yoongi puts himself in front of Jungkook, blocking his view of the door. 

“Jungkook,” Yoongi begs, just his name, and Jungkook takes it as some sort of permission to break. His hyungs are here together, they’ll keep him afloat under the tidal wave of all of this. Sobs tumble uncontained from the cavern that is his chest, the kind of sobbing that comes from fear and desperation. His face buried in Yoongi’s shoulder, hands coming up to cover his face, to feel the shuddering breaths that manage to escape from his lungs even though Jungkook feels like he can’t breathe. 

Together Seokjin and Yoongi lead Jungkook towards the private room guiding him away from prying eyes to hide his breakdown. One of the nurses watches them with something that looks like pain- like she knows something about grief like this because she sees it every day. Yoongi feels anger flare in his chest at the look- though it’s extinguished almost instantly by the maknae’s next shaky sob. 

Inside the room, Jimin, finally calmed down enough to try and stop crying- tips his head back against the wall. He’s only partially successful as he’s breathing heavy enough to call it a panic attack and he’s not the only one- Hoseok is shaking that way too. Hands digging into his sides. None of them can seem to stop crying. 

The only one who doesn’t take a chair is Namjoon. He tries to but can’t, instead standing by the door, knee shaking in an anxious jerk, scanning the hallway for anyone, anything that might help. 

His phone in his pocket rings and the others watch as he lets it. Taehyung looking up from where he’d pressed his face into Yoongi’s shoulder. But only after the third call does he answer. “yeah uhm- Mr. Bang, it’s Y/n- she’s- she“ 

And he breaks off, covering his mouth with his hand to try to keep his sobs contained, tears finally consuming him when he has to explain what he just saw- what he just witnessed- The trauma finally hitting him.

Jimin’s breath stops coming in gasps the second Namjoon needs him, standing just in time to grab under his arms as Namjoon’s knees give out and steer him into the chair he just vacated. taking in a deep breath as namjoon shatter, half in-between his legs and half still holding him, picking the phone from namjoons hands. 

“I’m sorry.” Jimin starts, and then it's hard for him to stop talking. His voice the only one in the room, as he spills the contents to their boss- why, the how- everything. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t fucking understand this.” Hoseok sobs, pulling at his freshly dyed hair, as he makes these offal-wrenching gasps. The way that Hoseok cries- almost tearless, that makes it sound like his lungs are rattling around his rib cage. 

No one has an answer for him. Seokjin’s shaking hands fist in his pant leg next to him.  The others silently watch the door, straightening up every time a nurse or doctor passes it. 

Around the end of the first hour, The PR team starts doing real damage control. More protection is set up in the hospital, noticed by them only because of the two guards that come to stand outside their door. though their faces are recognizable only vaguely (there have been so many new guards recently).

Mr. Bang is there too. Talks to Jimin and Seokjin and manages to get a word through to Taehyung, who only answers with a shake of his head when he’s asked if he wants food. If there’s anything he can do. While the others just sob or stare blankly after he clarifies that there is no news about your condition yet. No one asks about what’s online. No one checks their phones to see the photos or the theories; half of them don’t even have their cellphones or left them in the car. 

Mr. Bang and another manager leaves to get them food, which no one touches. Jungkook stares down at his hands. Stained with your blood but drying- flaking off onto the floor. 

Seokjin kneels down in front of him, a wet wipe in his hands, stretching out carefully to clean them off, finger by finger, slowly and gently. Taking care of Jungkook like he has since he was fifteen.

Jungkook doesn’t mention the fact that Seokjin is sobbing himself. But when the elder finishes, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull him close. Needing something to hold onto, and it’s the saddest Seokjin has ever felt with someone’s arms around him. 

It’s almost midnight by the time someone comes by to tell them anything at all. the doctor is still wearing her scrubs, the sleeve of her shirt blotted with blood. The boys, still life at one moment and then a flurry with movement when she appears at the door- asking about you, swarming her, asking If you were okay, how you were doing. If there was anything they could do. 

taehyung stays in the back, breath held, as he waits for the words he dreads. Doesn’t let himself feel anything until he knows. Knows for sure. He waits to hear the words come from the female surgeon's mouth. I’m sorry, but there wasn’t anything we could do she was too far gone.

The doctor inhales. 

“We managed to seal the lacerations on her arms after a few hours of surgery, she had to get her stomach pumped due to the medication she took. She’s very lucky that you found her when you did, she would have overdosed and gone into multiple organ failure if she had gotten here 5 minutes later-” They fall silent, waiting for the shoe to drop. And then in the back again, Taehyung letting out a jagged sob in relife, holding onto the windowsill for support. 

“-We need to monitor her overnight to make sure there isn’t any damage to her organs and probably for the next few days, she might not wake up right away either.” 

“So she’s- she’s okay? She’s not going to die.” Taehyung almost doesn’t want to know the answer. 

“For now yes, the chances are slim.” The nurse purses her lips, almost about to ask another question. Before Hoseok pipes up, voice raspy and quiet. 

“Can we see her?”  

Namjoon didn’t know what the hardest part was going to be, he’d thought the hardest part was going to be when he’d held your wrists in the bathroom to stop you from bleeding out, but this- somehow this was worse. 

Your body underneath the sterile white blanket, your hair tangled in places, your purple lips, tube going into your nose, your hands above the blanket, everything from your hands to your elbows wrapped in thick white gauze, the heart monitor beeping steadily but slowly. Calmly even. 

The nurses realized quickly that none of them were going to obey the “only 3 people at a time” rule. The manager talked to the head orderly and gave them special privileges, these continued when visiting hours ended. They knew it might be a little while before you woke up after anesthesia. The doctor had come by to talk again, about how personal drive had a lot to do with it. 

Namjoon knew what they meant- they meant that if you didn’t want to wake up you might not, but didn’t say it outloud for fear of what it would do to the others. A look in Yoongi and Seokjin direction lets him know that he’s not the only one who understands what this might mean. But the maknae’s are still so hopeful. Looking at you like they haven’t given up yet. 

Hoseok is still- still half not there. He moved from the waiting room to your room like a ghost, where he chooses a chair and just stares into empty space. The rasping sobs have subsided and now-now he just sits and watches. Shrugging off any hand that might touch him with the intent of wanting comfort or giving it. 

Hoseok grits his teeth in anguish, able to keep the sobs in his throat, his eyebrows knit together as he tries to keep himself from breaking down.  his breaths coming out short and labored. as he locks the part of himself away that’s panicking. His eyes sting, and he knows his face is looking pinched and severe. “you always look so angry when you cry.” You’d teased him before, after their last award show when they’d come home and Hoseok and Taehyung had been admittedly a wreck. 

Hoseok can’t forget the conversation he had with you almost a month ago. He should have asked again- he should have told someone. Blame sits on his shoulders, heavy. 

The night had started with a win from an award show, and ended with Hoseok falling giggly into bed next to you. He doesn’t often reach the right amount of drunk vs sleepy, but tonight- everyone had let loose more than usual, high off the win and rush of getting an award and beating another record. Even though he usually doesn’t like alcohol, it sings like a special kind of caffeine in his veins tonight and he almost dosent want it to end. 

You are equally as trashed, and equally as soft looking in his bed. You’d been waiting at home after the award show. Food and glasses of champagne ready and waiting for them. Ready to celebrate and dance around your living room. 

Hoseok doesn’t know how he got so lucky in his life, the liquid gold threading it’s way through his heart like some kind of magic, he smiles at you and leans over to press his lips to yours. You can taste the happiness in it and the delightful cinnamon and spice taste that is Hoseok. 

“Hey,” he whispers, trying to be serious for about a quarter of a second before he fails, falling into giggles again, hiding his face in your shoulder hand fisted in the sleeve of your shirt. Suddenly dizzy with all the excitement. He keeps his tone joking “Want to have angsty conversations until two in the morning and drink wine?”

“That’s what me and Yoongi do!” you cry, for some reason indignant, kicking your socks off. 

“Yeah but I can be that way too! We could even, like- invite him!”  

You snort “like he’d ever get out from under Namjoon right now- not even for all the wine in the world” as if on queue, a high-pitched breathy moan and a muted ‘yes Joon right there’ is heard echoing from across the hall. Someone- jin from the sound of it- bangs on a wall crying something like “stop being nasty!” 

“A min Yoongi venting sesh without min Yoongi” both of you giggle at the thought. unlike other nights, when you might be interested in more of a supine eventing, tonight you just strip off your clothes to the barest forms without being truly naked, falling asleep in Hoseok's favorite way, your skin pressed against his. 

He’s drunk enough that he doesn't stop to wonder about what tracery the darkness hides on your skin instead settling into your arms like a ship would at port. Your hand running up and over his lithe shoulders tempting groans of pleasure from his throat. Hoseok has always always loved being touched, and being touched by you makes him feel like his very soul is shivering. Falling easily asleep in each others arms, the alcohol sending you into a spiral towards sleep. ��

When you wake up, your head is pounding, and Hoseok is warm next to you, his fingers stroking through your hair, a look at him confirms that he’s awake and watching you. You know the wetness in his eyes as he looks down at you. You wonder if his head feels as bad as yours. 

“What’s wrong baby,” you say, reaching up to wipe the tears off his cheeks. 

“Bad dream,” he says. His eyes searching your body, his hands holding on a little too tightly. Hoseok doesn’t dream often, but whatever he must have dreamed about is clearly weighing on him. 

“Want to have that venting sesh now?” you pry gently, pulling yourself up so that you’re at his level and not snuggled in near his chest. His breath brushed over your cheeks when he breathes out. And in this lighting of very early morning, all of the red is diluted in Hoseok’s hair, making it look almost grey. 

You wonder what he’ll look like when it turns grey with age, you wonder even more if you’ll get to see it. In the dark, Hoseok looks like he’s wondering the same thing. He shakes his head, and your hands tighten on the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you want me to Y/n.” 

You stuck in a bated breath “what did you dream about Hobi?” 

He didn’t want to ask, maybe he didn’t want to know. All of the last weeks have been burning that question through him and he knows- all of them know what you said to Yoongi in the bathroom a few weeks ago when he caught you. Hoseok hears the words as good as if he was there himself - ‘I’m not going to kill myself’- But Yoongi- Yoongi wasn’t asking the right questions. “it’s just-“ he breaks off, swallowing a thick breath. “Do you ever think about dying? Do you want to die?”

You smile at him- or try too at least, the answer you give him isn’t what he wants not by a long shot. “I don’t want to make you sad Hobi,” your smile, your smile isn’t sad, regardless of what your words hint at, or the horror that wells up in Hoseok’s throat at how hopeless you look. 

Hoseok doesn’t want that.  You shouldn’t be resigned to this, this sadness that’s consuming you. You should be trying to fight at it. You try to give him a tired smile, a little stronger than before. Tugging him to turn onto his side so that you can put your arms around him. Hoseok doesn’t know what to say, what to do for that matter, his head pounds with the after-effects of the alcohol. “Let's just go back to bed okay?” 

Hoseok curls up against your throat and listens, hearing your heartbeat, and is lulled into a thankfully dreamless sleep, not realizing that later- he would wish he wouldn’t have, he would wish he had stayed up and asked you what you meant by that. If you really wanted to.  

“Do I ever make it better? Do any of us?” he murmurs, nearly asleep.

“Of course you do.”

If they had thought finding you in that bathroom was bad- it was nothing to compare to the pain of you waking up. 

Sometime in the early morning, muted grey yellow light filtering through the cracks in the blinds, some of the boys had collapsed into the so-called “parent cots” that the hospital staff had been nice enough to bring around.

The two smallest curl up swathed in Seokjin’s arms, with Jungkook and Namjoon in the other cot. Jungkook shaking through a nightmare in Namjoon’s arms at one point in the night, though by that time everyone is losing track of time. 

While every beat of the heart monitor had everyone feels a little better- because At least you were alive. 

Taehyung is propped up against the wall, coming to sit by you when he gives up on sleeping. After the first few hours of emotionally exhausted listlessness, Jimin couldn’t sleep either. Shifting out of Seokjin’s arms going to join Taehyung in the slightly larger seat probably not meant for two people. Hoseok is in a haze, half asleep and half awake, and never totally present.

From their side of your bed, Taehyung and Jimin watch and wait for him to fall apart. 

Hoseok has been awake the whole night, the only one who at one point hadn’t fallen asleep or at least tried. Hoseok looks like he might fall over, the bags under his eyes and the coldness in the room making his shoulders shiver uncomfortably, he watches you and he waits.

At one point in the night, Taehyung leans forward, taking his hand in yours, your hands are cold, but maybe a tiny bit warm on the palm, Taehyung warms it with both of his, careful not to jostle your bandages as he kisses your fingers. If he had any more tears left he would cry. 

“I promise, one day- we’re going to take a trip together, leave this whole city and everything that bothers you behind, and it will be just the 8 of us, maybe you and I could take day trips on our own, and I’ll make your life so happy and full that you’ll forget this ever happened, that you’ll forget you ever where sad.” Taehyung looks up when he senses Hoseok’s heavy eyes on him, his lower lip shaking. But he says nothing.  

Hoseok does reach forward and take your other hand in his. Thumb rubbing along the back of your hand slowly and gently. Eventually, Tae pulls back, leaning into Jimin’s shoulder, and drifts a little, not truly asleep and not truly awake. leaving Hoseok and Jimin to stand vigil. 

Jimin watches Hoseok almost as much as he watches you, he watches so hard he almost doesn’t realize when your eyes are fluttering open, he’s imagined it so many times over the last few hours he’s half-convinced it's not real. There is stillness for half a moment. The heartbeat monitor beeping unconvincingly in the corner.  

Your eyes are hazy and unfocused; Hoseok lets out a choked noise in relief, maybe your name, hand tightening over yours. “Y/n! Thank you- oh fuck thank god, thank you for not fucking dying- holy shit-“ Hoseok sobs, holding your hand so tight as he collapses forward onto the bed, knees sliding to the floor as he breaks uncontrollably. 

You blink through the cloudiness in your eyes as those sleeping stir awake. Seokjin blinks sleepily, unintentionally shifting Yoongi in his arms. On the other side, Namjoon stirs as Jungkook bolts awake. Jimin has never moved quicker in his life moving to your bedside. Taehyung jerks awake without Jimin's shoulder to lean on almost falling out of the chair. 

Hoseok is right- thank god for waking up. A god that Jimin has never believed in but might now just for this. He wants to collapse in exhaustion as all the fear leaves him and relife takes its place, he feels like he might just with how his legs feel like jelly. 

“What,” you say, voice small and rough, but it’s the most beautiful word Yoongi has ever heard in his life, more beautiful than any melody or rhythm. Eyes darting around the room taking in them: your family sprawled out in the grey hospital room. 

The heartbeat monitor kicks up beating faster, uneven. Your breath comes out worse. Suddenly taking everything in and understanding what it means. blood rushing through your head.

fuck- fuck you didn’t- you didn’t succeed when all you wanted to was- and now- and now they’re here and you’re- The white bandages on your arms are cumbersome, don't allow your arms to bend at all when Jimin and Hoseok take your hands in theirs. 

And Jimin’s expression is absolutely painful- painfully happy. 

It doesn’t make sense, not when the blackness in your lungs is sticky and suffocating- your treacherous heart hurts in your chest pumping despite everything. The dysphoria at living feels- it feels god awful. Worse than the pain that laces up your arms like gauntlets, worse than the swirling nausea lurking in your empty stomach.

Hoseok smiles at you through happy thankful tears. Jimin too- Looks so happy that you’re alive. It doesn’t make sense at all why he would be happy- not to your brain with everything- everything harsh and biting to your very being- god your head hurts. You’re dimly aware of Namjoon letting out a half laugh half sob in relief. Jungkook standing, his long hair half ruffled, his bunny eyes wide and tear-filled, looking so stunned, a smile slowly painting his face. 

It doesn't feel real, nothing does. The only thing you’re really aware of is the thunder in your ears of your own heartbeat, you can’t take it all in fast enough, everything- nothing you see makes its way through the fog in your mind and yet you’re overwhelmed with stimulus. 

The thunder of the heart monitor, Jimin’s and Hoseok’s hands holding yours, skin on skin warm but you feel so cold. Yoongi sitting up looking sleep ruffled but his eyes screwed closed with tears, back bending with the weight of it all as he holds his head with his elbows on his knees. Namjoon smiling at you tearfully with his dimples that you love so much on display, looking thankful. The sluggish pull of painkillers in your veins makes everything startling off-kilter like a ride at an amusement park. Taehyung crumpling into Jungkook’s side, falling to pieces in his arms. It’s all so much- too much. 

You give a shaky breath, pulling your hand out of Jimin’s and Hoseok’s hands, Jimin tries to hold on- but it’s almost violent how quickly you retract your hand from his, pulling at the iv drip there too so that it dangles out of the back of your hand. Pulling both of them to your chest, placing them there like you're guarding yourself against them. The heart rate monitor kicks up to the point that a warning tone sounds. A nurse opens the door as Yoongi stands. Not sure what to say- even less sure what to do. 

“Please- please why are you- why.” 

What are you begging for, what do you need? Just tell me how to make you better love, just let me help heal you. Tell me why you did it- why did you do it- why why why. There isn’t enough air in the room for your lungs to breathe easily. you can’t handle this- all of their eyes on you. Black spots start to dance in your vision  

The nurse strong-arms her way next to you in the bed, shining a flashlight into your dilated eyes “Miss do you know where you are? Are you in any pain?” Your breath still comes too fast-to-fast. 

“Please- why- what’s going on- why am I-“ your words are strangled by your breath, the panic all-consuming. The nurse hits the blue button; Seokjin utters your name- still blinking away the sleep in his eyes. Everything harsh and slanting and doesn’t feel real. 

“Miss you need to breathe, you need to calm down, you’re in the hospital.” 

There is another nurse at the door now, their hand on Yoongi’s side. Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s too. The room is full of people at this point. “You need to give her some space.” 

“No” Tae growls out, watching as you push away an oxygen mask, panic picking up again from the way you’re pushing everything away not just them. How afraid you look of everything, especially the hands that only want to help. 

The beeping from the heart rate monitor reaching a fevers pitch. The surgeon from before shoves her way past the guard at the door. Followed by another orderly who quickly tries to lay hands on Jungkook, who throws them off. 

“Someone gets them out of here- and pump 3 cc’s of Midazolam, she will tear her stitches if she keeps moving around- someone gets these boys out of here!” 

“Fuck off we're not leaving.” Jimin spits. The surgeons head whips up to look at him, her eyes narrowing at him, and Jimin has the good sense to look absolutely terrified. They all do.

“I do not care who you boys are. if you put the health of my patient at risk more than you already have I will ban you from her room and this hospital.” You still fight against their arms, even as the nurse shoots something into your resecured iv, another nurse holding your arm down to make sure you don’t try to tear it away. 

“Let me go. Let me go- please-please” you plead; the orderlies have to grip Jungkook around the waist before the door to your room closes behind them. sealing all the panic inside. 

Hoseok runs his fingers through his hair sagging against the wall, pulling at it harshly- and doesn’t know if he wants to punch a wall or be punched himself. 

“Okay- this is- that was. This whole thing is so fucked up.” 

He’s not wrong.

Food is unanimously decided on, a separate office room that one of the nurses leads them too. Namjoon doesn’t know what kind of strings Mr. Bang must have pulled to get them special treatment, but he makes a mental note to thank his boss later. 

For once, they’re all lost for words as they eat. Though Jimin doesn’t touch the food in front of him. And for once, no one forces him. This might have to do with the fact that he’d thrown up when they’d walked into the room. Yoongi and Seokjin both only nurse a coffee not feeling up to solid food just yet.

It’s around an hour before the same surgeon finds her way back into their room. “She’s okay.” She opens with, glaring at them like a hawk, Taking in the visible sigh of relief from all of them. 

“Why was she-” Seokjin swallows against the lump in his throat, “why did she push us away? why was she so-” he breaks off. Looking up at the doctor imploringly for answers to soothe the ache in his chest. 

“She was in distress, with all the painkillers and medication lingering in her system it’s likely she didn’t even know what she was doing.” everyone in the room sags in that. The doctor crosses her arms, giving everyone a warning glare. “If you put her in distress like that again I will have you banned from this hospital until she becomes more stable,” 

For the first time, everyone pays attention to what she’s saying. “You are not to touch her wrists or her stomach. We’re running tests right now to make sure she’s not in any immediate risk for acute organ failure, we’ve given her a sedative to keep her from potentially hurting herself or panicking the way you all made her but I swear if.-” 

“Is she awake? Is she still talking? Is she-“ Namjoon starts the same moment Yoongi says “let us see her.”

The surgeon snorts, rolling her eyes at the rapper. And Yoongi finds himself wishing that he were just a little bit taller so that he could stare down at her and intimidate her the way he’s trying too. Not that it looks like it’s doing anything other than piss her off. 

It was worth a shot anyway, and next to him, Taehyung is crossing his arms, looking at her with that unsettling blank look that seems to be doing enough. “If it were up to me you all would have been thrown out already.” Her hand hovers on the door, eyes going softer after a second “But she’s been asking for you- so follow me.”

You’re sitting up in the bed when they walk in. The yellow hospital gown clings to your shoulders- far too big. Hands lying on top of the covers your arms are bound in fresh white bandages From wrist to elbow. 

Someone’s opened the blinds of the window. And the morning light spills across your face. Looking much calmer and put together than when you woke up it’s almost startling. You try to smile at them, and say a muted ‘hey guys’, but it comes out so strangled it’s almost not a word. 

The bags under your eyes are almost purple. In the hospital bed- you look worn. The very soul of you looking like someone had washed a rag too many times and still hung it out in the sun to dry, leaving it crumbling and crusty and oh so delicate. You look a little sleepy too- must be the drugs, hell Seokjin could actually go for a sedative right now too. 

One of the beds has been removed. Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook sit on the other. Jimin looks so unsteady on his feet that Namjoon immediately yanks him into the chair. Hoseok takes a seat at the end of your bed. Tae stands.

“I’m-I’m so sorry guys.” You say, a little tear coming out of your eyes as Jimin thoughtlessly takes one of your hands, realizing what he’s done the second he did and how you reacted before. But thankfully You don’t pull away this time. And he sees wetness sparking in your eyes. “I didn’t mean- I never wanted you all to-“ you look from boy to boy hunting for absolution, for forgiveness for something that none of them know how to give. 

“Are you sorry you tried? Or because you didn’t succeed? or was that even your intention? did you just go too deep?” Taehyung asks, not bothering to wipe away the tears that haven’t stopped falling since he saw you sitting alive in the hospital bed, calmer than before. There is nothing accusatory in his tone, he just wants to know. 

You don’t answer. Jimin takes the silence as his own, clamping down on the nausea.  

“You know I thought there’d be a sign if you were really going to do it?” he says, and you turn from Tae to focus on Jimin. Your fingers holding onto his hand weekly. And like before, once he starts talking he just can't stop, the words tumbling from his lips like a confession. 

“I thought that maybe we’d be able to anticipate it and be enough of a support system to catch you before this point. I even- fuck- you don’t know this but I even checked your phone? Even though I knew it was a breach of privacy? I thought ‘she’s definitely the type to leave a note and she’d probably draft it before she sent it out or something’ so I’ll be able to know before she does it. I’ll be able to stop her.” 

Jimin is trying so hard not to break down, you can see it in every twitch of a muscle that he makes, every single deliberate word. His collarbones look incredibly sharp under the collar of his t-shirt. And his other hand bites into his shoulder, holding on tightly while the one in your hand grips gently. As gently as you would touch something soft and newborn. Jimin’s lips are red bitten, his eyes puffy but clear. “But you know what the last words you said to me where?” you shake your head, trying not to cry yourself. 

“You said ‘see you in a little bit’ yesterday morning before we left for practice. like it was just going to be any other day- and after we found you all I could think about what that. That I’d see you when” his voice cracks, but he presses on the ache in his lungs, needing to get the words out. “That I’d only see you when we both died, and maybe that was what you meant. Maybe I’d have to wait my whole life before I saw you again in whatever what comes next.” Jimin is sobbing now, openly, doing nothing to stop the halting trail that they carve down his cheeks. Over cheeks and over lips that you’d kissed a thousand times. 

And almost never got to kiss again.  

“But I don’t want to see you then- I want to be with you every single morning, every single time I wake up I want to see your face, from this day on until the day I die I want to be able to see you every single fucking day.”

He’s crying too hard to let the words get through towards the end. You reach up, your hand stopping when it tugs on the iv but Jimin is already falling into you taking your reaching as permission,  already burying his face in your shoulder as much as he dares, worried like that you would disappear with too much force. And you cry, the weight settling on you like blame- because you’ve hurt this man, this lover of yours who wanted nothing more than the tenderest of lives for you. 

A life that you have never wanted. And you wish you did, you wish you had. If not for anything else than to avoid this mess that you’ve made, the pain you’ve caused in the people you love so much.  

You’ve hurt him so much by tearing yourself apart that now he is falling in shambles. You wish you could move your hand to run them through his bleach fried yet greasy hair, you wish that you had any soothing words for him- but you don’t. 

You’d tried to kill yourself, nothing more than that and nothing less.

You’d tried and failed and you were still here, and now you had to deal with the consequences. Jimin won’t move, won't stop running his hands over your throat to feel the pulse there, nose pressed to your neck to hide his tears. to reassure himself that you’re alive, that he still has time with you. 

On the cot pulled next to you, Yoongi sits, his hands shaking around a coffee that he doesn’t sip it. He’s the next to speak, the next one who has enough courage, “you know what I thought when I came into the bathroom and found Namjoon and Jungkook there with you?” Yoongi’s voice shakes, his hands in fists at his sides, he looks so so small there, his teeth gritted against the emotional pain in his throat. “I thought fuck- how are they going to survive this, how are they going to put up with losing both of us.” 

Jungkook lurches to his side, “Yoongi no-“ he says, as the others look on horrified, Yoongi bites his lip and brushes the tears out of his cheeks angrily as Seokjin fists a hand in the back of his jacket. “I know I wouldn’t have done it- I know it was just a passing thought, but also- fuck, I would have been a ghost had you not come back to us- a part of me would have died if you had, and I don’t want you to think that I’m holding onto you just to hold onto myself- but fuck, fuck I need you. I need you every day. Every moment like Jimin said every day that doesn’t have all of us in it is hell for me.” 

Taehyung pipes in, teeth gritted against his tears, “I want you to be here, and I want to you want to be here- I want you to get better. I don’t know what would be good for you.” Taehyung’s lower lip trembles as he tries not to cry, in taking several shallow breaths, “we’re not enough to properly take care of, and I know that now” Taehyung sees how your crying anew and rushes over his own words. 

You don’t want to admit it- none of them do, but the fact of the situation is that no one would be here if they were enough to keep you alive. “I know, I know you try really hard, and I know that all of us do too, but-but we couldn’t stop you, we couldn’t help you in the right way, and I know you need a better safety net than us. Do you think-” 

Taehyung pauses, closing his eyes for a moment- he knows he won't be able to go back from his next words, his next suggestion, once he says them you’ll act regardless of what he wants, but it might be what you need to keep this from happening again. 

 “Do you think that it might be better if you went to a recovery center? Or a mental hospital for a little while? Just to make sure you’re okay and safe?”  Seokjin and Jimin stiffen, but no one protests, no one tells you that you shouldn’t- even if they don’t want you too, they all know it might be best if you do go. 

“I don’t know-I don’t think that i-” you shudder and shiver, eyes darting from each of them, waiting to see if any of them are going to jump up and say that they don’t want you to be admitted to a hospital. Don’t want you to go somewhere that they can’t follow. 

Seokjin grabs your hand from where he sits folded over your right side, winding his knobby hands with yours, “you don’t have to decide now” the words you’d needed to here, a tense breath released from all of them.

“You can think it over and we can try to figure something out that works.”

The next few hours are marginally less sucky. You meet with doctors, they check your stitches and run a few more tests. There is a tenser meeting with the police. But everything goes smoothly- probably because of a stack of cash slid to them by one of the managers to keep it quiet. Always focused on containing scandals. 

By the end of the day, some of the boys need to go home and at least shower and change clothes if not get some sleep. Though Jungkook straight up refuses too until Namjoon gives him a look. Yoongi and Tae go to retrieve dinner from somewhere better than the cafeteria to get food. 

The others will be back soon, Seokjin stays with you, the others promising to bring back a change of clothes- he’ll just shower in the small bathroom attached to your room. He leans up against the door, the tv droning in the corner on some drama. Watching your face silhouetted against the yellow light. indulging in the image of you for a moment. 

You’re quiet just watching the tv going in and out of sleep. They’re going to try and wean you off the painkillers in an hour or so, and the doctor had warned you to try and get some sleep while you can. After a moment, you notice Seokjin by the door, giving him a small tired smile. 

Seokjin struggles to find something to say, but doesn’t, putting his hands in his pockets. You scoot over a little, patting the bed next to you. “Want to sit and wait for food with me?” neither of you mention that you probably won't be able to eat any of it. You’re on a liquid diet until they get your second-day labs back. But one of the nurses did promise you a very tasty strawberry and watermelon shake, so there’s that to look forward too. 

Seokjin nods and carefully gets into bed next to you, on top of the covers while you’re underneath, careful to leave some distance between the two of you in case you want it. His heart fluttering when you don’t instead turning onto your side and reaching to set your arm over his chest gently. Seokjin shifts, letting you tuck your shoulder under his arm. 

The television changes to a news briefing. a car pileup, and then before Seokjin can change it, “No news yet on the most recent celebrity news. What were the members of Bangtan Sonyeodan doing at Asan Medical Center and why aren’t the police saying anything- more on what we know during our celebrity bulletin at 8.” 

“I really made a mess of things for you guys didn’t I.”

“Don’t worry about it please” Seokjin begs, running his hand down your arm and kissing the top of your head. Reaching for a moment, for the clicker to shut the television off before they play anything else. 

“But you-” 

“I’m serious Y/n” Seokjin cuts you off, looking down at you, a bone-deep exhaustion in him as he reaches a hand to brush at your cheeks, hooking a hand under your jaw to turn your face up so he can see you better. 

“The managers have dealt with it, and we’ll see if any of the doctors breach doctor-patient confidentiality- and none of us care, we’re all just relieved that you’re still alright now.” the thudding truth of that last statement makes Jin feel like he’s gonna cry again, but he doesn't want to- he’s tired of crying. 

“You should get some sleep before the others get back.” You nod, seeming to accept his words for now at least before you snuggle further into his side. you’ve lost a little bit of your ashen tint to your body, but you’re still a little bit cold, a little weak from the blood loss (though they did have to give you infusions during surgery. Seokjin rubs a hand up and down your back rapidly to warm you up. 

“Can you...” you start for a second, cutting off, looking shy. cheek against his chest. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” Seokjin asks murmuring the words into the top of your head (even if your hair is a little greasy)

“Can you sing for me?” you ask quietly. 

“Of course,” Seokjin smiles, you’ve asked him to do that before, in the kitchen in your house, before you go to sleep, you love the sound of his voice, of all of theirs really. “Any requests?” 

“Whatever makes you happiest.” Seokjin swallows, turning it over in his head for a moment before he decides on it. He starts up, the words falling from his lips the way they’ve done 1,000 times. 

“Will you stay by my side will you promise me~” he continues the rest of the verse of butterfly until he gets to the rap part. Slipping into Yoongi’s lines with a slightly more joking tone, changing the words to puns as he sees fit. “butter cake~ butter cake~”

 Even after all these years- Seokjin still can’t rap. But he does his best switching around the lyrics and making them goofier while keeping the rhyme, swaying side to side with you in his arms as much as he can in the hospital bed. The giggle you let out is soft and rippling, coming from your belly. Making the first real smile he’s had today appear on Seokjin's face, his hands holding onto you a little tighter as he breaks off “You’re going to make me lose tempo ~” he whines. 

Outside the door, Yoongi and Taehyung pause, listening to the sound of your and Seokjin's laughter. Looking at each other, the bags of food in their hands, just soaking in the sound for a second, even as it fades. You start singing too. your voice gentler and quieter, sleep-roughened, joining in with Seokjin's. 

Taehyungs hand squeezes his roughly, the younger taking in a shaky breath.  And for the first time since they got home and found you, Yoongi lets himself believe for a moment that everything is going to be okay. 

4 WEEKS LATER 

“So,” Mr. Bang says as he makes his way around the edge of the table, it’s only him, their manager Sejin, and boys in the conference room today, this decision is purely between the head of the company and them really. “We’re here to discuss which one of you should go public with Y/n as your significant other.” 

The room erupts with the conversation, Jimin and Seokjin actually sit up, everyone simultaneously volunteering themselves for the position. It wasn’t really a position, they knew that whoever went public with Y/n would undergo severe scrutiny and probably a hit to their popularity; it would incur the wrath of the fans, several trending hashtags of twitter. And make everything much more difficult for them in general. 

They didn’t care at all of course, how many times had they each wanted to take you to a party or an award show with the company’s blessing- or have you sit in on an episode of run BTS or star in a Vlive. Being your official boyfriend in the company’s eyes was just permission in general to do just that. 

The only reason why none of them were jumping out of their skin in anxiety about having you not in the room with them was that you were currently exactly 3 floors below them, in the practice room- Soobin had invited you to watch their practice for their upcoming first concert. 

None of them knew their juniors all that well yet. But they knew there would be enough staff around to keep an eye on you. No one had come out and told any of them what had happened, or even knew the nature of your relationship with the boys. But all of them knew that you were somehow special to them, though only the managers knew anything more to speculate about your relationship- Mr. Bang and Sejin where the only who knew the full story. 

You hung around so often that you knew all of the staff by name, had brought doughnuts to the break room often enough and volunteered to help many times, enough that the staff liked you. In the first week after the hospital stay, one of the makeup noonas had even asked Jimin where you where, tensely asking, “is she- still in the hospital?”

Jimin had been able to choke out “She came home last night.” while he barely managed not to burst into tears. Taehyung had stepped in, stepping in with a hand on Jimin's shoulder, and comforting words in his ear, gripping his hand hard. 

“it’s okay Jimin, she’s fine at home, Namjoon is with her now- we don’t have anything to worry about.” 

So at the moment, they had nothing to worry about. And as much as they all hated to admit it, it wasn’t because they trusted you- no- it was because The staff was under explicit instructions from Namjoon at this moment not to let you leave the company building without texting Namjoon first. 

Your hospital stay had been all over the news for weeks even if no one had ever figured out your identity. A small miracle in its self. Some talk shows were still speculating about it- and hopefully, this business with them coming out with you as their official S/o would put the matter to rest. 

You understood why it was necessary, even if it meant lying about what had really happened. Saying that you had fallen into a glass table, would be your official story, the youngest member finding you first which was why Jungkook had been so dazed, why there were more than 400 photos floating around on the internet of him half shirtless and bloody. 

An accident- even if it was anything but. 

This particular discussion had come out of a few tense weeks- following your…attempt. When the boys had decided that hiding you were doing more harm than good. They’d initially intended to draw straws for it- pure luck was the only way to do it fairly. And they’d alerted the company more as a courtesy than anything else. 

The company hadn’t like that one bit. None of the management, Accept for Mr. Bang, who had sat back on his thighs, given them a tired smile and said, “you really love to give me a headache don’t you?” 

So now they did it the company’s way, with statistical evidence to who it would affect the least, who was most likely to not cause too many waves. It was an ineffectual and unemotional approach to it, and all of them hated it. To Taehyung especially- it seemed like the statistical information in front of them discounted on fact. 

The facts being that they where all in this relationship together, every party an equal piece of the love that you shared, even if the nature of that love and the way it was felt and received was different for each member. 

Everyone needed different things and from each other- they got it. Tae needed companionship more than anything, someone to be there- but not necessarily to speak, simple enjoyment of each others company which was why sometimes he was content to sit back and let the others be loud for him. 

It was different than the way that the others showed and receive love the same way Jimin needed physical affection like it was air, and Yoongi- Yoongi only really needed it on the bad days like Tae. Whereas Namjoon- wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of the bunch but was always okay with receiving even if he wasn’t initiating it- different then the way that Seokjin sometimes needed his space and needed that to be physical- Seokjin who got just as much satisfaction from caring for others as he got from being cared for. Which was why he and Jungkook had a symbiotic relationship, Jungkook needed to feel snuggled down and smothered with love to feel secure. 

And you, the way that you needed understanding and care without enabling your worst habits. Care and gentleness without accommodation. That in itself a challenge that they were slowly conquering together, though your therapist was helping them in no small way. 

They were all a puzzle piece fitting perfectly with the ones around them. And this- this arguing and analysis of them- it felt like management was trying to shave down a piece to fit better when in reality- they already all fit perfectly together. 

So the others might shout and ask questions- but Taehyung just sat back, and waited. 

“Before you try to speak your case, you should know that both of you have been eliminated from consideration.” Yoongi has to grip Jimin’s hands to stop him from sitting up, he can feel the rage underneath the younger skin as Jimin’s whole body tightens. 

“Would you at least tell us why?” Seokjin asks scalding, never one to take the company’s wishes into account. 

“It’s simple,” Sejin says, shuffling the papers on the conference table in front of him. “You’re the most popular domestically, and Jimin is the most popular abroad by a number of twitter engagements- statistically the group would take too much of a hit if either of you was viewed negatively.” 

The members don’t comment on this, rolling their eyes if anything.  They’d long since stopped being jealous over each other being more or less popular that each other- since just after their debut. Seokjin slumps back in his chair rubbing his lower lip with his finger. And surprisingly, doesn’t protest. 

He’s thinking of all of us, Yoongi realizes with a start- his heartstrings pulling, Seokjin might have tried time and time again to piss off the company as much as possible with his hair dying, hair cutting and liberal style opinions. But this time- he’s not just accountable for himself.  

“Because of this Hoseok is also out.” 

“What the actual F-“

On the other side of the table, Seokjin forcefully pulls the redhead down. Taehyung looks like he might laugh if it wouldn’t make him sick. 

“We also believe that the fans will think it’s strange if the youngest member is in a relationship before his hyung’s” Jungkook’s jaw tightens but he waves his hands for Mr. Bang to continue. 

“Which leaves us with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Taehyung as possibilities.” The three are rim rod silent. Taehyung looks tired, blinkingly lazily, Namjoon’s tapping the table agitatedly. Mr. Bang turns to Namjoon first, leaving no room for preamble. “We’ve come to the conclusion that Namjoon would be the best pick, we believe that next to him, Y/n will leave a favorable impression. Namjoon is best equipped to deal with all of the stress as the leader.” 

“But won't this also add to this stress?” Taehyung asks, leaning forward, his eyes dart to Namjoon’s “I’m not trying to advocate for myself it’s just-“ Taehyung makes eye contact with Namjoon. “this is going to be…a lot” 

Besides Namjoon, Yoongi nods, “it is- but it’s going to be worth it.”  

“Are there any objections?” Mr. Bang asks.

Inside the practice room, you watch the members of txt perfect the ending of one of their songs- Soobin is the only one who you really have any interaction with, as he’s not that much younger than you or Jungkook. But you’re slowly starting to get to know the other members better, even if the age difference is a little more insurmountable. 

They’d offered you an in on this practice more as a courteously to their hyung’s than anything else. Here at the company- no one knew exactly how to place you. Most of them taking bets on who were you dating this week, which was a subject of constant debate at the beginning after a makeup unnie had walked in on you kissing Namjoon and Yoongi in the same week (in the same closet no less). The unnie had even tried to tell Namjoon after a little while- not that it hadn’t already made it around the rumor mill. 

“Wouldn’t it be a shame if they broke up? But she distracts all the boys when she comes around and they do have an even busier schedule coming up.” Imagine her surprise when her confession, what she had seen was greeted with an understanding laugh from Namjoon and a flushed face by Yoongi. “So that’s where you went off too when you were supposed to be working on your mixtape- you asshole! I waited for 30 minutes for you!” 

Now, most of the staff knew you by name- and knew not to ask what kind of weird relationship you had with the boys, not that they’d ever believed the truth of the matter. You were all good at hiding it and dodging any questions. But they did notice the marked shift since the hospital stay. 

Everyone could put two and two together. Especially given how the boys were with you now compared to before.

They’ve been treating you so gently the last few weeks, so tenderly, even in front of the staff. Yoongi had brushed a hand across your cheek when they left for the meeting, and Jimin hadn’t seemed to want to let go of your hand. If any of the staff was watching the 8 of you, when you’d looked up- you hadn’t noticed. The assistant that usually babysat you when you were without one of your boyfriends (not without good reason- you’d gotten lost on more than one occasion wandering around the company before) gesturing you towards the leather couch in the corner where you could sit and watch the practice without fear of disturbing them.

You have another week until you can get the stitches out of your arms but the scars will stay for a while- if not for good. Your light blue sweatshirt is tight at the wrist; there isn’t a risk of your sleeve slipping up and any of them seeing. Before the Txt members can finish their current song the door to the training room opens. And a mask-clad Jungkook pokes his head in. You shoot up and gather your stuff.

You cast a quick glance around making sure that there aren’t any cameras around to record or microphones- it’s just a general practice so you shout. “Thanks for letting me kill some time cucumber!” before you hurry out the door. 

Soobin’s reply comes with the start of “yah! Noona-“ but you don’t hear the rest of his protest at your weird nickname for him as the door closes behind you and Jungkook. 

“How was the meeting?” you ask sweetly as you follow Jungkook, and you can see his eyes crinkle and know he’s smiling at you under his mask. The tips of his fingers brush yours after you’re done hooking your mask over your face. You’ll enter the car through the underground parking garage, but it never hurts to be extra safe in the face of paparazzi. “You guys figure out which one of you is going to be my fake boyfriend yet?” 

“Yeah, there isn’t anything fake about me you brat,” Yoongi says as he exits his studio as you pass flicking you on the shoulder before running his fingertips down your arms gently, joining you and Jungkook on your way down the hall to the lounge room where the others wait. Yoongi like Jungkook only brushes fingers with yours though he does playfully tug on one of the strings of your hoodie- he’s in a good mood- but the heaviness in his eyes tells you that whomever they’ve decided for you it isn’t Jungkook or Yoongi. 

At the same moment, Jimin passes on his way out too and almost stumbles when he sees you, that same heartbreaking boyish smile that makes his eyes disappear erupting on his face when he sees you. 

Pulling you away from Yoongi and Jungkook and giving a careful glance around to make sure there aren’t any unwanted prying eyes. Pressing his lips to yours in hello when he realizes there aren’t. His plush lips sucking yours in a passionate kiss, one that seems a little resigned though. 

“So it’s not you either,” you ask when you break apart. Jimin giggles, and shakes his head. “No, but I wanted to see you before I left, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be back later,”

“What are you doing?” you ask shyly, as Jimin kisses your fingertips, his fingers lingering on your rings you have there, small and perfect, a small red stone at the center of a delicately thin band. He slides one off your ring finger and puts it on his own, though it’s a tight fit. “This is pretty- who gave it to you?”

“Namjoon” you smile, letting him take it, you and Jimin are the type of couple who share jewelry all the time. “You never answered my question” 

His answering smile is mischievous, “you’ll find out later,” he says, kisses you again quickly, letting his forehead rest against yours for a second.

“Number sweetheart?”

2 weeks earlier was when you’d devised the number system.

 “If you’re not going to go to the hospital, then I think we should set up some rules- or just some things that could help you.”  

You suck in your lower lip, hands tightening on the blanket in front of you. and Namjoon is already soothing a hand over yours. It’s a comfy night in, take out, your staple these days and everyone in pajamas. You yourself are in a cooky themed top and tata themed bottoms. All the others are piled around you likewise swathed in fluffy blankets propped up against pillows. 

Someone had the bright idea of dragging two king-sized mattresses out into the living room a few days ago and you’ve all been sleeping out here, like a massive sleepover every night. It’s more out of necessity than anything else, after the second night that you’d slept home, you’d woken up to Yoongi sleeping in Namjoon’s chair again for the third night in a row, just to keep an eye on you. and this might not have been an ideal arrangement (everyone was woken up whenever someone stirred to use the restroom) it was better than that alternative. 

You play with Seokjin's fingers in your lap, tracing along the double joints and the lines of his palms as he talks. “you promised you’d be more open with us Y/n. And you’ve tried before- you’ve tried to tell us how and I know it’s too hard for you. But maybe it will be better if we’re not all comparing notes and you give us something to jump off of.” 

“And you know I’m not sure it if-if I can give you that.” you have to be open with them, even if it’s hard but sometimes, it’s just impossible for you to be open. When you say this, some of them look tired, some of them look a little angry. But what’s best is Jungkook leaning forward to take your hand, your feet in his lap  “I understand,” he says, nodding a little, his fingers smooth over your knuckles in admonishment, His long curly hair falling in his eyes. 

it’s Taehyung who suggests it, curled on his side, head half in Namjoon’s lap. “What if we devised something easier, some way that we can check in without feeling like we’re going to make you close off, kind of like the colors system.” You nod, as do the others. You’re all familiar with the stop light system for your more intimate encounters, enough that you all understand what he’s is getting at. 

“So like- numbers you’re thinking?��� Namjoon clarifies, sucking in his chin and mulling over the words in his head. his fingers absentmindedly trailing along Taehyung's jaw. below him, Tae basks in the affection, it looks like he would purr if he was a cat, but Namjoon is so thoughtful that he doesn't notice. “So like, 10 for like, needing to be checked into the hospital, and 1 for like, so happy I think everything could be okay?” he clarifies. 

“I feel like it should go the other way maybe like 10 is happy, and 1 is sad,” it seems almost too simple to use those words but the others know what you mean. Sometimes it comes down to something just that simple. 

“We should write it out,” Jimin says, standing up and almost falling over as he steps over bodies to get a nicer marker and a clean sheet of paper, switching back and forth with Namjoon, scrawling in elegant Hangul as you bounce things back and forth. Eventually coming up with this:

10- So happy that I think everything’s okay from now on. 9-  A really really good day, 8- I’m gonna be okay probably for a few days after this, Cuz I feel so nice, 7- happy, (the feeling like when you get a hug and the warmth stays for a long time) 6-  happy, might feel a little meh, but it’s nothing that’s getting in the way of everything. 5- I’m okay. 4- I’m not okay but I might be in a little bit. Be gentle with me, maybe don’t leave me alone. 3- Don’t leave me alone. Bug me to talk until I do (even if I don’t want to). 2- Don’t leave me alone, get everyone together, cancel whatever needs to be canceled. 1- Check me into the hospital.

Jimin is careful as he pens the last line. Thinking about the possibility of a one. The list gets pinned to the refrigerator, alongside a picture of the 7 of you (minus Seokjin who was behind the camera) all sprawled out and sleepy in the living room after a movie night.

It’s a few days until it’s used. But Jimin is surprised how much better it makes him feel when Taehyung asks you “number?” and you sit and think about it for a second, looking at the list on the fridge. “Probably a 4.5,” you say in a quiet voice, a little bit worried how it will be received,  But it’s honest, and that’s all you promised to be with them. You’re feeling just the slightest edge towards delicate today. 

Taehyung and Jimin spend the rest of their free time snuggling you and running their fingers through your hair until they have to go record. And throughout the evening and most of the afternoon, you sit in the corner of the recording booth watching the seven of them record a chorus until their throats hurt. Flashing them smiles and thumbs up whenever one of them turns to look at you.

“Number sweetheart?” Jimin asks, in the hallway after they’ve decided which of them will go public with your relationship. 

You think for a moment, “probably a 6 or so.” Jungkook still lingering nearby, nods, then gestures you to follow. Jimin’s heart a little lighter after checking in that and making you’re okay, knowing that even if you weren’t the others knew and would take care of you. He takes a moment, Kissing you again, making it deeper this time, his hand on the small of your back, tongue licking at your lower lip hotly, before he’s breaking away again leaving you a little breathless and flustered. 

“See you tonight!” he calls, dancing away, at the same moment you yell “Park Jimin you are a tease!”

It’s isn’t until you’re all back home that they tell you, Namjoon shyly looking down- trying to hide his dimples. As you shout “Joonie!” and hug him. His hands slipping over your shoulders, holding you tightly. His dimples and his smile incandescent. 

“Ah I’m so jealous,” Seokjin comments behind you at one of the bar stools, though he doesn’t look all that upset with a lap full of Hoseok who seems to barely be paying attention, almost asleep in Seokjin’s lap. 

He didn’t get a good night sleep last night- and you try not to think about why that is, and why he crawled into bed with you and Jungkook so early this morning either, all of them have a hard time leaving you alone- or going to sleep in general these days, especially since you’d taken apart the group bedroom in the living room and switched back into your usual sleeping arrangements.

“Your knees are so boney” he comments, shifting to sit better on Seokjin’s thighs. “Yah! Like your ass is any better!” Seokjin replies, but there’s no bite to any of it. Especially when Hoseok slumps against Seokjin’s shoulder. Tipping his head into Seokjin’s neck, a safe harbor despite the teasing, looking small and in need of protection in a way that he rarely asks for but sometimes needs.  

At the same moment across the city, Jimin sits in the expensive and plush chair, the room is private enough where he can take off his bucket hat and his facemask, running his fingers through his hair before the manager enters his office after having left Jimin alone for a moment. “We’ve had it altered of course to your specifications. And changed the color as you specified in your last email.” 

“Thank you for that, and for allowing me to respond via email.” they usually don't allow that, preferring in-person meetings for non-overseas clients. The manager nods, he knows who Jimin is, and has seen the copious amount of media coverage in the last few weeks. Enough to suspect why Jimin might be busy, and also might have put a rush on this. But the jewelry designer is one he picked particularly for Its anonymity as well as for its high-end designers. 

The manager opens the velvet box carefully, and Jimin almost wants to sigh when he sees the engagement ring in the center, it’s hexagonal cut stones surrounded by a flurry of rose cuts in the shades of lightest pink. Glimmering in the lights. Jimin takes it, barely hesitating to feel the coolness of the stones. Already imagining it on your finger. Jimin nods, showing his approval before he slides your ring out of his pocket. 

“This is exactly what I had in mind, when can I have it sized?” 

(Please comment and reblog! Likes are nice, but they do little to support content creators!)

#bts ot7 #bts poly au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts polyamory #ot7 x reader #bangtan sonyeodan #bts fanfction #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim seokjin #bts poly #bts meme #bts reaction #bts scenario #kim namjoon x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kim seokjin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader

[ahtohallan-calling]

snowed in // kristanna fluff and (emotional) hurt/comfort // canonverse post f2+ ingrid // 2k // t

Anna gets a rare day off, but for some reason, Kristoff doesn’t seem happy about it.

for @gabiwnomagic <3

It was colder than normal when Anna slipped out of bed that morning. She shivered as she pulled her robe tighter around her shoulders, already missing the warmth of her husband’s arms around her.

Normally he got up when she did at the crack of dawn, but today he had rolled back over after kissing her good morning, burying his face in his pillow. She couldn’t blame him; for the last two weeks they’d been overwhelmed by diplomats visiting in a post-Christmas rush, all of them eager to make up for lost time due to the holiday season and to get the new year started off on the right foot with Arendelle. Kristoff had soldiered through it as he always did, staying by her side at every event and taking care of their daughter while she was in and out of various meetings all day long. Anna had barely seen either of them, though it wasn’t for lack of trying; she spent every spare moment with her little family, but those little snatches of time had been increasingly rare. Just a couple more weeks of this, she reminded herself as she changed into her day gown and twisted her hair up into a simple bun. When she’d just been the princess, she’d had to endure servants’ helping hands with all the fussy outfits and hairstyles she was expected to wear, but as queen she insisted she could dress herself. Well, most of the time, anyway; some of those ballgowns really did require an extra set of helping hands, but for that she had Kristoff now. 

Before she stepped out into the hall, she tiptoed back over to kiss his forehead, stroking back his hair where it fell into his eyes. He blinked awake, and she smiled softly at him, but for some reason, he didn’t smile back.

Anna frowned. “What’s wrong, honey?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Go back to sleep, then,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “Love you.”

“You too.”

A sense of unease stayed with her as she made her way downstairs to the meeting room; of course no one was ever fond of early mornings, but it still wasn’t like Kristoff to be so...well, not himself. Normally he would have pulled her close against him, insisted on one more kiss, whispered that he loved her before finally letting her pull away. Maybe he was sick; she’d have to send for the doctor. Right after this meeting, she thought to herself, and stepped into the conference room and found it, to her surprise, entirely empty.

Anna frowned. She should have been the last person here; where was everyone?

She stepped back out and headed into the hallway just as Kai came scurrying up. “Oh-- your majesty! I was just looking for you!”

“Where is everyone?”

“My lady, have you...erm...looked outside?”

Anna frowned. “No?”

“I’m afraid the storm last night was much nastier than it first appeared. The dignitaries staying outside of the castle are quite unable to leave their lodgings, so I’ve sent word to them all that today all planned meetings are canceled. Is that...was that correct, my lady? I apologize if I overstepped, I just assumed you--”

Anna threw her arms around the man, squeezing tightly. “Kai, you absolute saint, I can’t thank you enough.”

He patted her gently on the back; over the years he’d gotten used to her outbursts of affection. “Of course, of course, just doing my job.”

“You take the day off too, alright? You’ve earned it.”

“Are you sure? I--”

“I mean it,” she insisted, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away, a grin on her face. “Thank you again!”

She darted up the stairs as quickly as she could in her long skirts, already pulling at the pins in her hair. She burst into her bedroom, slipping off her shoes, and called, “Kristoff! Guess what?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled, still lying where he had been when she left.

“Everything’s canceled because of the snow. I’ve got a whole day, can you believe it? We can do whatever we want, we can try and get into town if the snow’s not too deep or play with Inga or--”

She stuttered to a halt as she began sliding her dress off her shoulders. He still hadn’t moved. “Honey?”

He still didn’t respond. She bit her lip as she finished undressing; she had been planning to put on one of her woolen dresses, but instead, she slipped back into her pajamas before crawling into bed and nestling close against Kristoff’s back, tucking her chin over his shoulder and putting her arm over his waist, the way he always held her when she had a hard time going to sleep.

She nuzzled her nose against his neck, pressing a kiss there, and at last, he responded, setting one of his hands over hers where it rested on his chest; still he didn’t speak. Anna held her tongue as long as she could, trying to content herself with just feeling the thud of his heartbeat against her palm, but after a few agonizing minutes, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Kristoff, what’s going on? Did something happen?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Do you feel sick?”

“No.”

“...do you want me to leave you alone?”

He rolled over to face her, looking exhausted even though he’d only just woken up. “No. Please.”

Anna reached down and entwined her fingers with his, holding on tightly. “Please tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix this.”

“Well, I can try at least, can’t I?”

He was quiet for a long moment, but his eyes never wavered from hers. She gave him a tiny smile, and at last, he sighed and glanced away. 

“It’s...I wish that it wasn’t so exciting that we get to spend just one day together.”

Anna frowned. “You want me to be...less excited?”

“No,” he said hastily, looking at her again and squeezing her hand. “No, I’m-- I’m happy too, it’s just...I miss when days like this were just normal.”

“...oh.”

Now she understood why he hadn’t wanted to say anything. The crown weighed heavily on both of them, but it was a burden he had been happy to accept when they got married, and one she was so grateful he shared. But even lightened, even carried in love, it was a burden all the same. Anna reached out to hold him, unsure of what else there was to say, and he pulled her close, his arms a shelter she had come to rely on so heavily over the last few years.

“I love you,” he said, his voice low and his eyes sad, “and I’m so proud of you, but sometimes I wish you were just you and I was just me, and we could do stuff like this whenever we wanted.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice suddenly shaky around the edges, “Oh, Kristoff, me too, I-- sometimes I just-- I want to run screaming and tell Elsa to take it back.”

“But you were born for this,” he said, and though he had told her that before in encouragement, today it sounded more like mourning.

She held his face between her hands, pressed a kiss to his nose and forehead and each tiny freckle on his cheeks. “I think,” she said, her voice soft, “I think I was born for this, Kristoff, for loving you and Inga as much as I possibly can.”

Suddenly the creases between his furrowed brows disappeared, but still, his eyes filled with tears. He pulled Anna closer to his chest, and she went willingly, nestling there against him so she could hear his heartbeat. His voice was husky with emotion when he managed to speak again. “I feel the same way. I— all my life I never— I love you two so, so much.”

Anna felt close to tears herself. “I wish we had more days like this. It’s been too long since I got to just lay in bed and hold you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he murmured into her hair. “So let’s make the most of it.”

She pulled out of his arms and sat up, leaning against the headboard; he looked up at her, confused, but she scooted closer to him and gently lifted his head into her lap. “I just want to look at you for a while,” she said, trailing her fingers down his nose and over his lips, where they were met with a gentle kiss. 

He closed his eyes as she traced the lines of his face, over and over, before sliding her fingers into his hair, gently stroking it away from his face and idly humming a lullaby. His breath slowed, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping; peaceful moments like these were rare enough that he had closed his eyes only to make the moment easier to memorize so that he could return to this again and again whenever things got too hard again. 

“You’re the best part of my life, Kristoff,” she whispered, and he opened his eyes to look up at her, a slow smile unfurling on his face. “You and Ingrid, I...I don’t know how I got so lucky to have the two of you.” 

“We’re lucky, too,” he said, sitting up so he could lean over and kiss her, his lips tender and unhurried.

She lost track of time as he kept kissing her, just basking in the sweetness of the moment, and then his lips grew more eager against hers, one large hand sliding the hem of her nightdress up and settling on the side of her hip. Just as his knee slid between her thighs, a cry came from the nursery that adjoined their room. 

Kristoff huffed out a sigh against her mouth, but Anna just laughed. “Later,” she promised, giving him one last peck on the lips before crawling out of bed to get Ingrid from her crib. 

“Mama!” her daughter chirped, a smile already blooming on her face as Anna walked in with a smile of her own; getting to start the day together like this was a rare treat for the two of them. 

She picked Ingrid up and held her close, cherishing the tickle of her blonde curls under her chin. “Good morning, Inga my love. How are you?”

Ingrid started chattering away in her baby talk; the only distinguishable words were “love you!” but Anna nodded along all the same as she walked back into the bedroom, where Kristoff was sitting up in bed. Ingrid squealed with delight and wriggled out of Anna’s arms to climb into her father’s lap as soon as they neared the bed.

Kristoff grinned at her, so brightly Anna felt a swell of affection rising in her chest. “Hey, Ingabug. Whatcha doing?”

She kept babbling as he scooped her up and cuddled her close, pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead. “Uh-huh. And then what?”

Ingrid waved her hands and burst into a new wave of chatter as if somehow they had understood each other. Kristoff just kept nodding along as Anna settled in the bed next to the pair of them, resting her head contentedly on his shoulder.

“Do you know what she’s saying?” she whispered, and he nodded and whispered back, “No idea.”

Finally, Ingrid seemed to run out of things to tell them about her very exciting day so far, and Kristoff ruffled her hair, his large, rough hand so gentle against her curls that Anna felt another little twinge of love in her chest and put her hand there on instinct as if to capture the feeling. “Glad to hear it, Inga,” he said, and the little girl beamed up at him before crawling off his lap to nestle between him and Anna both.

“Love you,” she chirped. “Now breakfast?”

A laugh rumbled out of Kristoff’s chest as he leaned over to kiss Anna’s cheek. “She might look like me, but my god, she’s your daughter.”

#kristanna #my fics #ingrid

[cootie-patootiex3]

Machine! Connor X F reader part 2

Warning: Angst, description of grandmothers death - do not read if you are sensitive to this!

Pairing: Connor X Female Reader

Summary: it's been 6 months since the incident. Y/N has recovered well, however, her heart is still painfully beating for Connor - she's had enough.

Enjoy :3

6 months.

6 painful months went by since the incident, yet you feel like it's been an eternity. You didn't care that you were left with scars on your back... No, that was the least of your worries - what worried you was the fact that your heart kept beating for a certain android.

Connor.

Things have not been easy for you since you came out of the hospital; sure your back killed for the first two weeks, but it wasn't nearly as painful as your heart. Your dearest heart, the key to your darkest of secrets - your heart, beating for what it wants most, yet it shall never reach it's desire.

Sitting in the office, you were debating whether you are making the right decision or not. Sure this job paid enough for rent and groceries, but you can't stand him. Being near him every second was suffocating - as if you were constantly being drowned.

'if I leave this job, where else would I go?' you thought to yourself. At that moment you decided to search for any available jobs.

"lieutenant Y/N? May I ask what you are looking for?" Connor asked emotionlessly.

Connor hasn't changed much, still the same android as before. You would've thought he would show just a hint of emotion, but you were wrong. You knew he was hiding something important, yet you didn't want to pry; you already knew what his answer would be. He's not allowed to feel things, he's not allowed to love, care or even be happy - but there's something stopping him from showing them, you don't know what, and frankly you don't care anymore-- you don't want to care.

"nothing that should worry you Connor." you stated in a firm, yet tired voice. You felt him stand behind you, it's like you could almost hear the gears working inside him. Almost. 'pay attention to this Y/N, now's not the time to be distracted.'

You found one job that seemed decent,

"Health & Social Care Assistant.

Desired skills:

Possess good people & communication skills.

Able to work as part of a team.

Physically able to carry out work involving moving and handling.

Personal qualities:

Caring and compassionate.

Respectful of people’s rights.

Hardworking, reliable and trustworthy.

Good at problem solving, optimistic and outgoing."

'it's got good pay too, I think I'll go for this one' you thought. It did seem nice, throughout your life you've taken care of many Elderly people, including your Grandmother and Grandfather - you remember the joy of spending time with them, you loved them so much. Until that dreadful day came. Your grandfather was the first to go, you remember his words as if it were yesterday, 'pursue your dreams, don't wait for them' was his last words. Your grandmother was sad after he went, it made her dementia worse - she would always ask where her husband has gone, sometimes she would ask if you can make him dinner. It was hard, but you managed to help your grandmother as much as you can. When she was in her death bed, she pulled you close, gripping your hand and squeezing as hard as she could, she said 'don't let negative energy consume you, do what you want, give your heart what it desires most, for you only have one chance in life' and with the last breath, she exhaled - her hand going limb. The heart monitor showed a line along with a loud 'beep'. It was heartbreaking for you to watch, but you will always cherish what she said to you. After, you decided to help out the elderly, it was a hard job but very rewarding.

After you've applied for the job, you checked the time. "18:37" it read.

"well, time for me to go home" you said as you stretched. You've been sitting in that chair all day. Connor was still standing behind you as you packed - as if he stopped functioning, It was almost creepy. As you finished packing you slung your bag over your shoulder, excited to go home and rest. Connor still didn't attempt to move.

"Connor, can you move, please?" You asked, you were not about to play one of his games.

Connor stood as still as possible, his LED blinking yellow. 'what is he calculating?' you thought.

"Connor, I need to go home, so if you don't min--" as you were trying to move past him, he suddenly grabbed your arm. His grip was strong and tight, yet not enough to hurt you.

Startled you asked "wha-.. what are you doing?"

"lieutenant Y/N, may I ask what you were looking at?" Connor asked blankly

'what? Is he stupid? He stood behind me all this time and he's asking me this?'

"I was applying for a job Connor, now can you please let go of my arm?" You asked whilst trying to pull your arm away. Connor slowly let your arm go - he was hesitant. 'what's going on?' you question yourself.

"lieutenant Y/N, I have been assigned to be your partner to help you investigate. We another have a case coming up - you shouldn't be looking for a job" Connor stated. When he said 'partner' you inhaled sharply, you wish he mean't more than that. His stare was cold - you looked at the floor, finding it more comforting then Connor.

"I don't care Connor, I'm going to quit no matter what. Why are you making this a big deal? You're going to get a new partner so it shouldn't matter" you said quietly whilst fidgeting with a lose string that's hanging out if your coat. Connor, for a moment went quiet, you were right, he would get a new partner to solve this case. But why does it fee--

"I'm going now, it was nice being your partner Connor. I hope that one day, you will release your emotions. I know you have them. I want you to know this before I leave," you said whilst looking up at him.

"if you do start to feel things, come to me, I'll be there for you Connor"

"lieutenant Y/N, I cannot feel things, I'm simply a machine designed to cha--"

"yes yes, I know, you said that before" you sighed, rubbing your temple in annoyance, 'he just doesn't get it, does he?'

"I'm going, bye Connor" as you said that, something flashes in Connors eyes, yet it went away as soon as it came.

You waited for a moment longer to see if Connor would try to stop you; he didn't, you sighed once again, and walked away, wishing Connor would come running to you.

~Time skip~

It's been a week already and you've managed to get the job. Your life was good - you wanted to think that, but it was miserable. You thought it would be easier without Connor, but it's not. You miss him so much; every time you would lay in bed, thinking about him, your heart would pick up it's pace - longing to be near Connor. You wanted Connor to knock on your door, for him to say he can feel it. But the chances of that happening were very slim.

It was a rainy evening tonight, nothing good was on the TV. You were sipping hot coco whilst watching the news; they were saying how deviants are planning to take over humanity.

"pathetic, how can you be stupid? They want freedom. Want to be treated like human, yet you say that about them?" You said out loud, getting tired of people misunderstanding their true intention. With a huff, you got up and went into the kitchen, preparing some hot coco.

Just when the kettle finished boiling, there was a knock on your door, 'odd, I wasn't expecting someone' you thought.

You went towards the door slowly, scared of not knowing what might be at the other side of the door. You looked into the peephole.

It was Connor, 'why is he here?'

You opened the door slowly, heart increasing it's beat, however when you saw the state he was in, your heart stopped. Silence. You couldn't help but tear up.

"Connor, what hap-.. what happened to you?"

Connor stood silently, his LED blinking red to yellow, to red. To say he looked stressed was an understatement. He looked horrible, cuts were everywhere, he looked battered.

You quickly moved aside and urged him to come in. After hesitating, he slowly started to walk - you noticed how he was limping, holding on to the door frame, as if he could shatter at any moment.

As soon as he entered, you closed the door. You turned towards Connor; quickly you went to his side, putting your arm around him and helping him to walk towards the sofa.

Connor didn't say anything for a long while. His LED was constantly blinking - you desperately wanted to know what happened.

Your heart was beating fast, your anxiety started to creep into you, daring you to think what could've happened. 'no, I shouldn't think like this, I must calm down' you thought shakily.

"Connor, what happened?" You asked softly.

No reply.

"Connor, please tell me what happened, I want to help you" you said a bit louder. Connor turned his head towards you. His eyes met yours and you gasped, never had his eyes been so soft - the look he was giving you was tender.

"... It appears you were right, lieutenant Y/N." Connor stated.

'right? Right about what?'

"Connor.. I don't-... I don't know what you mean" you said sadly.

Connor sighed, as if he didn't want to talk about it. His hair was a mess, as if someone was constantly pulling on it, trying to yank it out - his lip was split in half, dry blue blood was apparent.

"Connor," you said standing up, getting ready to leave, "I'm going to get a towel, you stay here ok? Once I come back I need to know what happened." By the time you finished your sentence, you were already in the kitchen.

As you come back, you noticed how stiff Connor looked - not that he wasn't stiff already for being a machine, he just seemed to move more robotically.

You sat down next to Connor and placed a bowl of warm water on your lap. You got the kitchen towel and squeezed the excess of water out. You slowly placed your hand on Connors face - turning him so he would face you.

You placed the warm towel against Connors lip, and started to dab it. You knew he can't feel anything, yet you still treated the wound delicately. Your hand moved swiftly, making sure you clean every cut on his face.

You felt Connors soft eyes on you; it's weird when he looked at you like that, he was always cold - eyes usually blank, void of any emotion, but now there was something.

When you finished cleaning his wounds, you put the bowl down on the floor. You sat up straight, gazing into his eyes, he looked lost. Slowly, you lifted your hand up towards his hair, you were waiting for his permission, and when he didn't react, you carried on lifting it.

However, as soon as you touched it, his hand snapped onto your wrist, you gasped in shock. You looked at Connor, expecting him to scold you for trying to be "intimate" as he would put it - when he didn't say anything. He was shaking. He closed his eyes, gasping, his grip growing tighter on your wrist.

You started to panic, "Connor? Are you-" without finishing your sentence, Connor suddenly collapsed into you, he was breathing heavily. You panicked.

What are you supposed to do?

Quickly, you grabbed Connor and layed him down on the sofa, his hand was still gripping tightly onto yours, no intention of letting it go. His eyes closed tightly.

You were trying your best to comfort Connor. You kept talking to him, telling him to relax as much as he could.

"Connor, I need to to listen to me.. Conner, hey! Stay with me" you said worriedly whilst shaking him.

After 5 minutes of agonizing pain, Connor opened his eyes, his grip loosening on your wrist. Slowly he sighed.

"lieutenant Y/N," Connor started, "I have to tell you something. It may not sound pleasant, but I need you to hear me out" Connors voice seemed so soft, it almost calmed you down. You nodded at Connor, telling him to go forward and say what was needed.

"after you left the job, I was assigned to lieutenant Hank. We went out on a case to investigate a murder scene. We thought the suspect had ran away, but they didn't; they were still in the building. That day my sensors weren't working normally so I couldn't detect them; when we found the suspect, she tried to inject something into me, I managed to avoid it. We caught her and brought her into the investigation room. She was then put into a cell," Connor stated, you didn't know where he was going with this, but you waited for him to carry on.

"when the case was solved, I went out for a walk with lieutenant Hank. We walked past an ally way when someone jumped behind me, grabbing my neck. I fought back as much as I could - they had knives," when he stopped talking to take a breath - not that he needed to but for some reason, he was acting more humanly then before; your heart started to bear faster, an unsettling feeling settled inside your gut.

"At one point I wasn't quick enough to avoid a hit, whilst recovering, I felt liquid seep into me. I identified it to be 'Richin'. It's one of the most deadly liquid an android could receive; it kills androids slowly, taking 3 - 4 days," Connor continued. You let out a horrible gasp, you felt dreadful, you wanted to hold Connor, you wanted to show him the world - but that would be impossible. Slowly fat tears started to make their way down your face.

Getting enough courage and preparing for what was about to come, you shakily asked "ho- how many days has it bee- been, Connor?"

"2"

You let a strangled cry, there was no way this was happening, this can't be true - yet seeing the pain that Connor was in told you otherwise.

"no, Connor, th- there has to be- to be a way, you can't- I'll call the hos--" as you were reaching to grab your phone, Connor took your hand gently. He coughed.

"there's no need for that lieutenant Y/N, it's far too late to do anything. The hospital won't be able to help me eith--"

"Connor shut up! There has to be a way, ju- just hold on" you cried, you gripped his hand tightly, laying your head on his stomach. "There has to be some- something" you whispered.

"the reason I came to you lieutenant Y/N was because you were right" Connor said, his other hand gently going towards your hair.

Sobbing loudly you asked, "wh- what do yo- you mean"

"emotions. I feel them" he said softly. Shocked you look up at him, 'I don't believe this' you thought. Slowly, Connor gave out an awkward smile, it was cute - you wanted to hug him, congratulate him. But now's not the time to feel happy, your beating heart was reminding you of what was going on.

"Connor don't joke like th-"

"I'm not joking lieutenant Y/N" Connor said cutting you off. Bewildered, you look at Connor, tears not stopping. Of course you were happy, but it was not going to last. Connors hand slowly reached up towards your face; he gently touched it, feeling your tears - curious, he bought his hand back to his mouth to try and analyse what that wet substance was.

Chuckling you said "you're still the same as always Connor. They're tears. No need for you to analyse that". You didn't want to accept the truth, you wanted this to be a sick joke. Connor was dying Infront of you and you can't do anything to help him. You slowly lowered you head towards his chest, and layed still. The shifting of gears was loud against your ear, you would hear them stop, then start again - sometimes stop for a full minute.

That night, you told Connor everything about the world, different foods, drinks, cultures. He seemed to like the idea of traveling, you'd smile at that and imagine being with him. You told him countless of times how much you loved him, your heart beating every time he said "I know". You wanted him to say it back, you wanted to hear him say your name without 'lieutenant' in front of it. You wanted to kiss him, cuddle, watch cringey movies together.

As you tried to keep your eyes open, Connor encouraged you to sleep, you protested saying you want to be there for him till the end. His hand slowly went into your hair, caressing it - this almost feels surreal. As you closed your eyes, Connor scanned you for the last time, making sure you were asleep. His movements slowed down.

"Y/N," Connor started, slowly withdrawing his hand from your hair. He laid his head back, and looked up at the ceiling, his gears are rapidly working inside him - they were slowly freezing, he felt his end.

"I love you" were his last words.

His unblinking eyes dull once again, mouth slightly parted.

He was gone. Forever.

A/N: WOOOO guys, you won't believe what happened, right, so I was half way done with this story, and when I saved my work, Tumblr lagged... It fckin lagged! I looked at my draft to see if my work was saved, and it wasn't! I literally had to rewrite everything again, hence why it took so long. Please don't hate me, this is an angst story, I hope you enjoyed!

#connor x reader #machine connor #detroit become human connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor #connor dbh imagine #dbh: connor #machine connor x reader

[lizzybeth1986]

With A Little Help From My Friends - Part 1

Thank you so much @emteeand for the ideas and the inspiration, and @feisty-mary for every single time you patiently listened as I panicked over unsaved drafts 💜

Pairing: No romantic pairing as such, more a Liam/Hana friendship fic. The implied pairings are Liam x Esther (my MC) and unrequited Hana x Esther.

Book: The Royal Romance Book 1

Rating: G

Summary: Whiskey with Drake, dance battles with Maxwell, sweet treats with Esther. On the night Hana is to leave Cordonia, what special moment of friendship will she share with Prince Liam? Missing scene from Chapter 18, takes place shortly after Hana’s diamond scene and before Liam’s diamond scene in the hedge maze.

--

(This gorgeous art is by @shazrystyles)

I’d played this for her once.

Her fingers flutter over the piano keys, barely touching. One note flows effortlessly into the next, and the next, and the next: she doesn’t even need muscle memory to remember how it goes. She cannot see the keys over her tears, but no matter. This tune is one that’s been ripped from her soul. It doesn’t need eyes.

You’re my best friend, Hana.

How long has she been waiting for someone to tell her that? Through years of hobnobbing and false flattery, through decades of strategic alliances? A whole lifetime? And now…and now…

And now.

I understand, Esther, I really do, she wants to say, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.

She plays nervously, feverishly. Sweat beads glisten over her skin. Her hands don’t seem to want to listen to her anymore. The melody almost plays itself out of nowhere, stronger, sweeter, filled with too much hope. It sounds like the person she was two hours ago.

She fists her hands, slamming the music to a screeching stop.

From somewhere behind her, she hears the shuffling of feet. She turns around, hoping against hope it isn’t Esther. She can’t see her. She isn’t ready. Not now.

It isn’t.

“Your Highness?”

“Lady Hana,” he says, “I hope you’re alright.”

It’s the only other person she isn’t yet ready to see.

She runs her fingers over her damp cheeks and wishes the man weren’t this kind. She knows she told Esther that she had to meet him before leaving, but that was just a way to avoid them both. She wants so badly to resent him, leave his palace and his country without another word and damn all the existing rules that state that a withdrawing suitor should inform the Prince first.

“Prince Liam,” she bows to a low curtsy, “I thought you would be downstairs.”

“I was, for the most part,” he says, his stance ramrod straight. Sometimes she wonders if the man possesses a spine made of metal. “You play well.”

It doesn’t escape her how awkward this encounter is. Even after months of being around each other they’re practically strangers. She’s sure if someone asked them about how they met, what their first dance was like, what they talked about, they’d both draw a blank.

The very thought makes her sigh.

How determined she had been to win this man. How sure that her talents and breeding would gain her a suitable match - no, the most suitable match - and have no one refer to her as “Lord Peter’s leavings” ever again. How hopeful, that she’d leave every rival in the dust, bring this man home and make her parents proud.

And now look at us, she wants to fling the words to his face and watch him react in any way besides stoic calm, now we’re rivals. Rivals for another woman’s love.

The tension in the room is so thick you could slice it with a knife. She wonders if he even notices.

“I don’t recognize the composer, however. This piece is beautiful: I’d like to listen to more of their work.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s mine.”

His eyes widen. “R-really? Wow. That’s…that’s phenomenal! You should play concerts, Hana. Talent like this doesn’t deserve to be kept hidden in the palace music room - ”, she didn’t manage to hide her temporary wince, that much she realises from his change of tone. “ - of course, only if that’s what you want.”

He hesitates, then takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to presume.”

She laughs. Even at the height of her resentment it’s impossible to dislike this man. “How did you end up here?”

“I come here. Sometimes. To…to clear my head.”

An uncomfortable silence follows this confession. She suspects he isn’t telling the whole truth, that he probably wanted to avoid someone the way she was trying to avoid him, but it really isn’t in her place to prod. So she backtracks, asking easier questions.

“Do you play an instrument?”

He grins apologetically, nervously running his thumb behind his left ear. “Acoustic guitar. Not very well, I’m afraid. I barely know 4 or 5 chords.”

Something about the tenderness his voice tells her he cherishes playing it anyway, beginner experience be damned. “Doesn’t matter how good you are as long as you love doing it, my aunt used to say. She taught me the basics.” Before my parents saw me as their ticket to fame and glory, sent her away, and hired world-class music tutors instead. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed playing the piano as much as I did with her.”

“She sounds like my mother,” he smiles initially at the memory, a smile that fades as soon as he utters the last word. He clears his throat. “She was the maestro in our family.”

Hana’s heart sinks to her stomach as she recalls the little facts she’d picked up about the Cordonian royal family. How the King had married thrice: abandoned by one wife, widowed by another, finally ruling their small nation with the third. It was little more than family history when she’d read it first, but the devastation that history wrecked on him is writ large on Liam’s face.

“Liam, I’m sorry,” is all she can say.

He shrugs, barely noticing her use of his birth name. “It was a long time ago. See that?” he points to a case resting against a wall across the room. “That’s hers.”

It breaks her heart, seeing Cordonia’s king have nothing but scraps of memories to cling to. She knows it’s something she can never understand and yet…and yet some part of her does.

“Is it why you came here?”

“I…yes.” Liam is usually a man who looks you straight in the eye, but tonight his gaze flits from one corner of the room to another.

He carries so much within him, she remembers Esther telling her once, so much responsibility, so much fear, so much pain. But we will never know. Because he will never tell.

Some part of her knows how hard it is. To carry wounds like these and never let anyone see. To never be able to name what hurt you most. After tonight the person in front of her will find himself carrying so much more on his shoulders, with the only woman she has ever loved by his side, and tonight she will be leaving his home, never to come back. It worries her. This is no way for her to leave. There are only so many chances one can get to say goodbye, and make it matter. She straightens her back and stands up.

“I’d like to hear you play, then. If that’s alright with you.”

He shakes his head, sighing. “I’m not very good, Lady Hana.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she doesn’t realise how much the notion disturbs Her, or how much louder her voice has become, until she sees the look on his face, “I’m sick of only seeing people be good at things. I’m sick of never having the chance to be anything but good. I, for once, think it would be amazing to be bad at something, sir!”

When he says nothing - just stares at her while she winds up her mini-outburst - she almost regrets saying it. Maybe it was better to keep quiet. To leave this train of thought and talk about nicer, safer things. But she doesn’t have an option anymore. Her parents want to take away from her the only place she felt she could belong to, and all that’s left to do is to make her every last moment count. She takes a deep breath, and speaks again.

“Look,” she says, her words coming in a rush, “my parents will be withdrawing me from the social season tonight. The carriage will be here once the ball is over and I may never come back, or see any of you, ever again.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What? You mean…you won’t even be able to return to court? How come?”

“They didn’t say,” she lies, too drained to tell the truth to anyone else. “But before I left, I wanted to make sure I did something special with each of you. All my friends. I drank whiskey shots with Drake. Did a dance battle with Maxwell. Told Olivia she was a sorry excuse of a…sorry. I know she’s your friend.”

Liam waves away the apology. “She is. But knowing you and Esther, I’d say she probably needed to hear that.” He pauses, his expression suddenly softening at the name, “what about Esther?”

“We raided the dessert table. Which brings me to right now,” she says, “you’re left.”

“And your last moment with me is…to suffer me strumming a godawful tune on my mother’s guitar?”

Her full skirts swish behind her as she walks back to the piano. “I’ll…er, I’ll join you if it makes you feel any better. Maybe you can pick a song we both know?”

“There’s one,” he says, striding across the room to get his guitar, “British band. Very simple chords. It’s called Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

“Wait,” she says, remembering her aunt. “I think the band’s name is Queen, yes? My aunt stayed in Japan a few years before coming to stay with us. They used to have a very large fanbase there.”

His face lights up, assuming a boyish, almost carefree expression that is so at odds with the man she has seen so far. “You know this one then?”

“Not very well. I can play it rather decently on the piano, but I only remember half the lyrics.”

“That’s alright. I can sing most of it…just…my voice is horrible.”

She giggles. This was what was worrying him? “I can’t sing either.”

It doesn’t take very long to convince him. As he settles the guitar over his lap and adjusts his position, he flashes a rare grin on her direction. “It’s settled, then. We can be terrible together. On my three?”

It takes a few false starts and some botched-up communication, but they manage to settle into a rhythm. This thing. Called love. I just. Can’t handle it. The song is catchy enough that she starts to bob her head while she plays, something she never does. I ain’t ready. Crazy little thing called love.

Soon the music becomes frenzied and energetic and so full of life they stop caring how out-of-tune they sound. Her fingers ache from playing at such a pace, and some of Liam’s elegantly-styled hair falls over his forehead, but stopping isn’t an option either of them want to take right now. The image of Esther swims before her eyes as he sings, and she doesn’t care. What magic floats over this badly orchestrated noise? That even the fact that they’re singing about the same woman doesn’t seem to matter?

She brushes the offending thought aside, and joins in for the next part of the chorus, the only part she knows.

There goes my baby

She knows how to rock n roll

She drives me crazy…

She gives me hot-and-cold fever

She leaves me in a cool cool sweat…

There is a faraway look in Liam’s eyes as he just about croaks those lines, as if Esther was the first thing on his mind too. If she feels a pang of envy that his feelings might be returned tonight, she doesn’t let it ruin this song. She won’t.

I’ve gotta be cool, relax,

get hip, get on my tracks

Take a backseat, hitchhike,

And take a long ride on my motorbike

Until I’m ready -

“Ready Liam!” she yells, the spirit of the song completely taking over.

“- crazy little thing called love!” they both finish the song off with a flourish. She is flushed from the energy and the sheer exhilaration of playing this number and she can no longer tell if Liam is laughing or singing anymore…and perhaps that’s the beauty of this moment.

That for the first time in their lives, they didn’t have to be perfect people.

“Thank you,” he says, still laughing. “This is the most fun I’ve had all night so far.” Years seem to have fallen away from this face. She wonders if this was what tiny six-year-old Liam - the one who probably laughed and ran and played, the one who still got to hear his mother’s lullabies - looked like. Unguarded. Uncaring of what everyone expected of him. Happy.

The only other time he has ever looked like that…has been with Esther.

You make me feel alive.

It seems like a lifetime ago that Hana had said this to Esther, but she can see in Liam’s eyes that he feels it too. He does not know it yet, he never will, but she knows exactly what Esther has awoken in him, because the same desires had once laid dormant in her too.

Funny how these things work, she thinks. The same Esther that once stood between them like a wall, has now forged a bond that even distance might not break.

She wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. “I needed this too, more than I thought I did,” she confesses, “I should thank you.”

She has seen this man jump out windows and injure himself on rose bushes just to follow them to a bakery. She has seen him accompany his reluctant best friend to a country bar and do a backflip at a moment's asking. She has seen him turn his own schedule around so they could explore a part of his beloved country's history. Tonight, just because she told him she was leaving, he volunteered to play and sing to an audience for what definitely seemed like the first time. She suspects that Esther is more than half the reason he'd done all those things in the first place, but the truth is that somewhere along the line, all of them started to matter. The knowledge makes her want to hold this man's hand and call him friend.

There will be time for her to admit to heartbreak. To confess to the walls in her room how unfair this situation is, to tell Princess Snickerdoodle and Mr Tea Party that she can no longer be satisfied with the company of inanimate objects again. Maybe one day she will hate this - not the man Esther loves, just the situation they’re all trapped in. None of those days are days she will look forward to.

But tonight, in this moment, sharing laughter and music with the one man who has her beloved’s heart, knowing that he will love Esther and cherish her the way she deserves to be cherished, the way Hana knows she would have done…it feels like it will be enough for her.

Tonight, Hana is happy.

–

(To Be Continued)

#the royal romance #trr liam #trr hana #liam hana friendship #implied liam x mc #fanfic #with a little help from my friends #part 1 of 3 #trr fanfic #prince liam #king liam #king liam the sexy

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Balance on the Head of a Pin

Chapter Nine

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x OFC  |  Word Count: 5429 Warnings: none

Loki wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed so hard as he had seated on the sofa, photo album over his knees with Ellie on one side and Lauren on the other. Her face was a beautiful shade of pink as her Gran thoroughly embarrassed her. They’d finished an entire pitcher of her Gran’s sweet tea, and Lauren had gotten up to make another when he came across a picture of Lauren seated on a swing hanging from the branch of a large tree.

It gave him pause for she was utterly adorable. Her hair was done up in tails above each ear, and her smile was so wide he could see she was missing her two front teeth. She appeared no more than six or seven, her feet and lower legs a mess of dirt and mud.

“Ah,” Ellie grinned, her voice soft when she noticed which image held his attention. “She’d helped me with the garden that day, weedin’ and waterin’. Spent the entire day here rather than goin' to some frou-frou party Hoyt’s club was throwin’. It was a lovely day. She was so happy.”

The smile she wore shifted into a sadder one, and Loki touched the delicate skin of the back of her hand. “I do not understand how this… conflict within your family arose,” he said softly, Lauren working only a room away. “She is,” he shook his head, “lovely and sweet, yet they treat her so harshly.”

Moisture filled Ellie’s eyes. Turning her hand over, she caught Loki’s fingers between her palms. “Lauren is the definition of sweet. She has a gentle heart, and a carin’ nature not often seen among the high and mighty set Hoyt runs with. My husband, Jasper Annandale, was very much like Hoyt is, and though I love my boy, he’s been a horrible daddy to that girl. He learned it from Jasper, unfortunately,” she sighed, picking up another album. Ellie turned to its front page and traced her fingers over the man in the image. “Jasper wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t what you’d call lovin’ neither. I married him cause he swept me off my feet, turned my world upside down he did, and though I think he cared for me, he cared for his name and his land and marryin’ the prettiest girl in town a lot more. Because of that, prestige and the way we were viewed by society became everythin’ to Hoyt. He married cause it was expected, chose Magnolia cause of her lineage, gave everythin’ to Marabeth cause she’s his heir, and dotes on Cissy cause she’s the baby. That girl’s got him wrapped so tight around his finger it’s a wonder he can breathe,” she huffed. 

“And for this Lauren is what? The spare? They treat her as if she has no worth of her own when, from what I have seen, there is more to love and cherish in her littlest finger than there is the entire rest of that family.” She looked at him sharply, and he sighed. “Forgive me. They are your family, but I dislike how rude they are to Lauren.”

Ellie patted his hand. “S’okay, you’re entitled to an opinion and you ain’t wrong. Lauren’s never been what you’d call high society. She’s far too much like me. I hated that house all the years I lived there.” She flicked her hand at the room. “I much preferred this one. The one I grew up in. It was always full of laughter and love. When Jasper passed, Lauren was still just a babe. This house had sat empty for years, but I had kept it, knowin’ someday I’d come back. Come home. As Lauren grew, it became doubly important. I couldn’t change her daddy’s mind, nor beat some sense into that woman who’s her mama, but I could give her this. A place to come when she needed to shelter her tender heart.”

Loki lifted Ellie's fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I will never be able to thank you for that. You cared for my Astvínur, watched over her, guarded her heart until the duty could become mine. I will cherish you forever for that, Lady Ellie.”

She giggled again, blushed a bright pink, and patted his cheek. “You’re a sweet talker; a silver-tongued devil for sure. You make my Lulu the happiest I’ve ever seen her. I’m glad she finally found the courage to do somethin' about the Mischief God she was all on about in her letters. Though I do wonder at the speed in which y’all have gone from nothin’ to somethin’? You a mighty swift mover, Loki, or is there somethin’ more y’all have cooked up to get Magnolia of my Lulu’s case?”

“A bit of both, Gran,” Lauren said, returning in time to hear the last of the conversation. She set the tray with pitcher and glasses on the coffee table, pulled an embroidered stool over, and sat at her Gran’s knee. Fingers playing with her ring again, a nervous gesture Loki couldn’t help but smile at, she glanced at him before speaking. “When mama called me a couple of days ago, she was hell-bent on havin’ me home to make up with George.”

Ellie snorted in distaste. “That man is a fool, and your mama’s a nitwit thinkin’ she can make you get back with the likes of him.”

Shame coloured her face when Lauren looked down at her hands. “George was the only thing Gran and I’d ever fought about. I should’a listened to you, I just…” Her shoulders slumped forward, regret and humiliation in her posture.

“Now, Lu, you know it wasn't your fault. You were young, and he was a charmin' man. I could just see you makin’ the same mistakes I did at your age. I didn’t want ya gettin’ hurt. I saw it as history repeatin’, and when the cards read out the same, I had to say somethin’.” Cupping Lauren’s face, she lifted her granddaughter’s chin and kissed her cheek. “In a way, I was happy he stood you up. I didn’t want you hurt, but I knew if you’d married him, you’d never leave. It wasn’t in your nature to quit, child, and he was a man who’d break your heart and leave you bleedin’ in the dust when he walked out on ya.”

“I know that now, Gran,” she whispered, eyes full of unshed tears. “I should’a listened to you.”

“Cards?” Loki looked between the two women.

“That would be the crazy daddy talks of. Gran reads the tarot cards. She’s pretty good.” 

When her gran scoffed, Lauren giggled. “Pretty good? Child, I’ve been tellin’ fortunes longer than you’ve been around!” Ellie huffed, shooing Lauren to pour her another glass of tea.

“Really?” Loki asked, a smirk blooming. “You didn’t tell me you had a seer in your family, my sweet.”

“It’s not somethin’ which comes up in casual conversations, Loki.” She rolled her eyes as she poured.

“Yet you ask me about Strange’s portals?” 

Ellie’s blue-green eyes were bright with laughter as she sipped her tea, excitement causing them to twinkle with a devilish light. “I’m sure Lulu was much more inclined to coax you into showin' her real magic than talkin’ of her crazy Gran who dabbles in things.”

“Would you like to see a trick, fair Ellie?” he asked, green wisps of his power already flitting around his fingers. She nodded with the same enthusiasm as a child and made him chuckle. “Very well.” He turned to sit facing her on the sofa, chanced a glance at Lauren, and had to bite back a laugh as identical looks of excitement filled both their faces.

Loki brought his hands together, let the magic gather, twist, and writhe, moulding itself into what he wished, and finally opened his palms. The green wisps fell away leaving a vibrant orange flower in his hands. More than three dozen petals, each one edged in gold, opened around a center cone of red with stamens of blue rising from the middle. Its fragrance was one of honeyed mead, sweet and light and beautiful. “This is a Fortryllende flower. They are exclusive to Asgard, created by Odin for Frigga as a courting gift. My mother loved nothing more than spending hours in her gardens, tending flowers just like this one.” Those had been happy times when he could spend an hour or a day with Frigga, learning of magic and growing things.

“Oh, my,” Ellie sighed, hand to her heart as she stared at the flower spread out over his palms. “It’s lovely.” Reverently she reached out, taking it gently from him.

“They bloom for a hundred days.” He smiled at her gasp.

“Truly?” Lauren asked, eyes wide and full of shock.

He set the flower in Ellie’s palms. “It was how long it took for Odin to convince Frigga she was his one. The flower will live for one hundred days as long as it’s cared for.”

“Lulu, help an old woman up! I know just the bowl to put this in!”

Loki assisted even as he chuckled, taking one elbow as Lauren lifted against the other, and watched fondly as Ellie bustled out of the room, chattering quietly about how beautiful the flower was and if she could only find the right bowl. She knew it was in one of the cabinets; she just had to find it.

When Lauren stepped into him, her arms went around his waist, and her head came to rest against his chest. He was surprised to feel her shake and swiftly tilted up her chin. Silent tears were sliding down her cheeks, causing his heart to stop.

“Lauren, my love? What is it? What did I do?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, nothing. That was… you were… perfect,” she shuddered, drawing in a ragged breath.

“Then why are you upset, darling?”

“You’re so good to her. From the moment you met, you’ve been… just… everythin’!” Her hands tightened, fisting in the back of his shirt. “You made her so happy, and I just… I can’t.”

“Of course, of course.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “She’s your Gran, darling. If she’s important to you, special to you, of course, she’d be special to me. She’s a lovely woman. I can see why you are as kind and generous as you are if she was your role model growing up.”

Lauren gave a soft sob. “She means everythin’ to me. I can’t tell you how often she dried my tears, let me stay here cause home was just… too much. To see you with her, like this, treat her with more respect than my own sisters, Loki… I…”

He pressed his thumb to her lips, shushing her softly. “Darling, she’s a charming woman. I like her very much. It is unfortunate the rest of your family is heinous for they are missing out on two extraordinary, rather incredible women.” He bent and took her mouth gently, with care, the lack of both in her life making him doubly prepared to give her more, show her more.

Ellie’s muttering faded away as he drew Lauren up, drew her in, sinking into the lushness of her giving lips. He felt his heart stutter and fall, landing with a splat at her feet. The tentative sweep of her tongue against his lips sent a rumble of pleasure through his chest. He moaned softly when her tongue flicked over the edge of his teeth, pressed against his, twisted and danced with it, and tilted his head. He sank lower, dragged her higher, wrapped his arms around her tighter, until the kiss grew hotter, more demanding with each suck and nip.

“Perhaps that ring’s not so phony after all,” Ellie snickered from the doorway, causing them to break apart like guilty teenagers caught doing something naughty.

Loki smiled down at Lauren. “One can only hope.”

A flush coloured her cheeks as she smiled and looked away.

“I think you’d best stay for supper and tell me the rest, that way I’m in the know and not sayin’ somethin’ I shouldn’t,” Ellie said, setting the bowl down on the top of her piano. “I’ve got a-hankerin' for fried chicken, and Lulu makes the best biscuits.”

“Another hidden talent, my heart?” he asked, caressing her cheek. “You’ve never cooked at the tower.”

“That’s because I know how Bucky and Steve eat. Throw in your brother, and I’d be stuck in the kitchen all day,” Lauren laughed, releasing the grip she had on his shirt.

“Indeed,” Loki snickered, following the two women into the other room, perfectly content to experience this side of Lauren all for himself.

***

A glass of wine in hand, Loki smiled at the pictures of Lauren along the mantle above the fireplace. There were others as well, pictures of her sisters in various stages of their lives, but he only had eyes for his Lauren.

There were ones of her in pigtails and frilly dresses, shorts and t-shirts, laughing and soaking wet with a frizzy-haired Sadie. Another showed her in tight breeks, high boots, and a dark jacket dressed for riding, her beautiful blonde hair tied in a bun at the nape of her neck. Next to her stood a pretty white mare, sleek and shining in the sun. Lauren looked lovely, a young lady in the blush of womanhood. Innocent and sweet.

The soft sounds of washing up and the laughter of the two women in the kitchen made him smile as he poked around the room. They’d chased him out after feeding him one of the best meals he’d ever eaten, including the excellent vintage he drained from his glass and set on a table.

Another of Ellie’s hobbies included homemade wine, something else her son Hoyt was not overly impressed with, but the older woman had a knack for it. She created the drink with fruit from her own trees, along with jams and jellies. She made her own bread, pickled her own vegetables, and baked the most incredible pie Loki had ever tasted. The woman was a culinary genius.

When he’d said as much, Ellie had laughed, waved her hand dismissively, and pointed at Lauren, telling him to have her granddaughter make him a Hummingbird cake at her earliest convenience. Lauren had scoffed a little, but pink had filled her cheeks, and she’d glanced at him, her eyes full of pleasure.

He wondered if he could entice her into making it for him tomorrow. Perhaps he could convince her to let him help. Cage her against the counter and hold her close, his hand over hers on the spoon, his lips on the curve of her throat. He had no idea what a Hummingbird cake was, but if Lauren made it, he would happily enjoy every bite.

Continuing around the room, Loki couldn’t help but compare the immaculate showplace of Lauren’s ancestral home with the cozy, nearly shabby one of her grandmother. It was a much better resemblance to what he knew of Lauren from her rooms within the Tower. Though practically every flat surface was covered with a knick-knack or a memento, and the furniture was that of old, well-loved pieces, he knew no matter what item he picked up, should he return with it to Ellie, the elderly woman would have some story or memory attached to it. They were not just things to fill a space, but precious belongings from cherished days.

If there was a little dust on a few of them, he paid it no mind.

From the parlour, he wandered through the dining room with its curio cabinets full of painted ladies and fancy teacups into a room at the back of the house filled with plants and wicker furniture encased in glass. It retained the heat of the day, something the tropical plants clearly enjoyed as each and every one was in full bloom. Orchids, fragrant and sweet fairly dripped with blossoms, but it was the colourful glass orbs hanging from the ceiling all around the room and along the windows which caught his eye.

Loki moved closer to touch one gently. It was hand blown glass, the colours blending like the drips of watercolour painting.

“They’re called fairy orbs,” Lauren said quietly from the doorway.

When he held out his hand to her, she came to his side without hesitation. “They’re lovely. What are they for?”

Lauren touched the pretty blue ball, sending it dancing gently, and causing the colours to change with the setting sunlight skating over it. “Legend says they attract fairies and luck.  The orbs remind fairies of flowers, and they come to see the colours. The fairies find the orb to be a wonderful treat and reward its owner by bestowin’ him or her with luck. I found the first,” she pointed to a purple one hanging farther down the row, “in a little shop in Soho. Now, I watch for them, and when I find a particularly pretty one, I send it to Gran.”

Loki shook his head as he looked around. “There must be four dozen.”

“I’ve been collectin’ them for her for years. Sometimes I come across three or four and can’t choose, so I send all of them.”

A sudden thought crossed his mind, setting a wicked smile breaking upon his lips. “Will you get your Gran, love?”

She frowned, suspicion showing in the narrowing of her eyes. “What are you up to now?”

“You’ll see, darling.” He winked at her and sent her off with a gentle push.

Once she was away, he turned back to the pretty glass balls and got to work. He walked the length of the room, touching each one gently, adding a simple brush of magic to the orbs, finishing with the last as Ellie and Lauren returned, a tray of tea in hand.

“My Lulu says you’re up to somethin’, Mr. Mischief,” Ellie smirked, her tone mildly scolding.

“You wound me, fair Ellie.” Loki went quickly to her side, collected her hand, and tucked it in his elbow before leading her out to sit on the padded wicker seat. He turned with a smile to take the tea service from Lauren and set it on the small glass table. Once she, too, was seated, Loki crouched and pointed toward the ceiling. “I simply wished to make sure you would not miss your guests.”

“What guest…” Ellie’s voice faded as awe replaced words. “Oh my.”

“You seem to have gathered a host of fairies to your bower,” Loki said quietly as the magic he’d woven into each orb came to life.

They started as small lights, skipping and swirling within the balls, gradually growing brighter as the sun descended, the thickness of the forest helping it fade faster. Eventually, each orb had a ‘fairy’ within, the light roughly the size of a large grape. They seemed to flutter, inspecting the glass before one by one they flickered out and faded away into the night. The show lasted no more than five minutes, but when he looked to Ellie, her eyes were misty though her face was filled with joy.

“Fairies,” she whispered. “You gave me fairies.”

“A woman as magical as you should always have fairies,” he said softly, finding himself well and truly smitten with the amazing woman who’d raised his Lauren.

She turned to him, the tears sparkling in her eyes, and placed her hand upon his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Loki, to do somethin’ like this for an old woman.”

“You are far too young to call yourself old, Ellie.” His throat felt raw with her praise.

“Pish. I’m only as old as I feel, ain’t that right? Well, I feel plenty old when my granddaughter brings home a man who wields magic as easily as others do them fancy cellphones. You showed an old woman somethin’ she’d never thought to see in her lifetime. I bet you make your mama very proud.”

The words hit him hard, setting him back on his heels as he pulled away. “Frigga has been gone some years now.” He didn’t see the glance shared between Lauren and her Gran, but the touch of her paper-thin hand to his face did not go unnoticed.

“She would still be proud of who you have become, Loki.” Ellie patted his cheek. “You made an old woman very happy today.” She leaned forward and pecked a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, peaches.”

A small, pleased smile curled his lips. “So that is where Lauren gets her endearment from.”

“Hun, we call everyone peaches,” Ellie giggled, giving him a wink. “Now, I was gonna have tea with y’all, but all this excitement has me tuckered out. I think I’ll head on upstairs and tuck myself in. Lulu, you put those cups back when you’re finished.” Ellie patted the top of Lauren’s head, bent and bussed her a kiss, and headed inside. “Gonna dream of fairies and fancy Gods with mischievous smiles tonight. You bet I am,” she chuckled as she shuffled into the house, her enthusiasm a contradiction to her movements.

“Should we leave?” Loki asked, watching the elderly woman go.

Lauren shook her head. “Drink the tea. It would be a shame to waste it, and Gran knows I’ll show myself out, lock up when I leave.”

He took Ellie’s vacated seat and accepted the cup she handed him, sipping at the fragrant liquid. The only light was that from the interior of the house, a pale gold which spilled across the floor behind them, casting Lauren’s face in shadows.

She kept her eyes on her cup as she said, “You did a wonderful thing tonight. The fairies for her.”

“It was simple. An easy trick to master. Not difficult at all.” 

“Maybe so, but it was special to her. It was special for… me,” Lauren whispered. “I hate that you can’t see how amazin’ you are.”

“Lauren,” he sighed, looking away.

Her cup hit the table with a clatter; his a second later when she took it from him by force. It shocked him enough that by the time she’d moved to straddle his lap, he had no defence against her.

She clutched at his shirt and shook her head. “No! No more, Loki! You are a good man, your mama would be proud of you, of who you’ve become, and you’re just as much a hero as Steve or Bucky or any of the others!”

“But I’m not, not really,” he sighed, looking up at her, flushed and glowing, eyes alight with purpose. “Look at all the damage I’ve done, Lauren. At the people killed because of my actions.”

“You made mistakes, Loki, I’m not saying you haven’t, but you are not the same person you were then! I know that. I see it every day.” She shifted her hands to his face. “I wouldn’t be here with you if you were.”

“My heart.” He brought his hands to her hips, closing his eyes to shut out the beseeching nature of her soul seeking gaze.

Her forehead dropped to his, sending moisture falling on his face as tears rained from her eyes. “You didn’t cause you mama’s death.”

“But I wasn’t there to stop it either. I could have. I could have prevented her death had I not been vain and selfish.”

“Or you could have died!” Lauren cried. “You could have been killed by the Dark Elves no different than she was!” Her arms went around his neck, and she buried her face against his jaw. “Then where would I be? I wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t know your magic. I wouldn’t know the feel of your hands or the way your heart beats against mine. I wouldn’t know what it felt like to really and truly love someone. Loki.” She lifted her head, and he opened his eyes to find hers, washed in tears and filled with love. “You call me your heart, your love, your darlin’, but if I’m yours, you’re mine. I know I don’t have the best track record with men, but don’t you think I would know how to pick a good one when I found him? Especially after the last one?”

He smirked a little. “Perhaps you’re just blinded by my good looks, my sweet.”

She snorted her thoughts about that. “And maybe you need to cut yourself some slack.” Threading her fingers through his hair, she tilted his head back against the seat and loomed over him. “Can you honestly tell me Frigga wouldn’t be happy with who you are today?”

He gave in and sighed. “Frigga would likely be most pleased I was no longer at odds with Thor.”

“So you’re sayin'…?” She tilted her head, arching her brow as a sly smirk broke over her lips.

He rolled his eyes. “She’d be proud of me.”

“Better,” Lauren snickered, leaning down to press her lips to his. His hands skated up her back, but she resisted his attempt to draw her closer. “You may not believe it, but you are a hero.”

He scoffed softly, refusing to snort though he felt like it. “To who?”

“Me,” she whispered. “You’re my hero. After today, all you’ve done for Gran, if I weren’t already in love with you, I would have been head over heels for you.”

“Are you saying you fell a little deeper, darling?” he teased, nipping at her chin.

“Right down the well, elskin min,” she crooned, lips brushing his.

He shook his head at her cheeky words. “It seems the Norns have played quite the trick on their Trickster. A mischief-making female all of my own. Whatever shall I do with you?”

“I can think of a few things, silver-tongued devil,” she murmured, her grin smug.

“Oh?” Again he tightened his hands, drawing her closer. “What things?”

By-passing his lips, she whispered hers over his cheek in a shiver-inducing caress. With a nip at his ear, she sighed, “Such heavenly things,” and caused his heart to pound.

He moaned, unable to hold it back, and flicked his hand out at the tea service. Everything disappeared, reappearing clean and in its proper place within the kitchen. “Let me take you home, love,” he coaxed, drawing his lips along her jaw. His hands tenderly stroke down her back to cup her buttocks as Loki drew her in, rocked up into her, and showed her the effect she had on him.

She gave a soft gasp and quiver before nodding her agreement. “Walk with me through the forest,” she urged. “This is my favourite time of day. Let me show you.”

He would much rather return them in the same manner in which they’d arrived, but a glance up at her big eyes, deep green like that of the pine trees and full of pleading, had him adjusting his plans. “Whatever you wish, Lauren.”

Her smile was radiant as he helped her to her feet and led her back through the house. Already it was quiet, the sounds of the old home settling as the air began to cool. He watched Lauren turn out lights as she went, lock doors and check windows. It was a routine she was clearly familiar with; one she’d done many times.

It set an ache in his heart for the woman. To feel oneself an outcast in their own home, he understood it, but only because he’d cast himself in the same light once upon a time. It was a position he had put himself in. But here, she was viewed in that light her whole life for a reason he still could not fathom. Yet she was not bitter, nor cold, she did not rail against her fate.

She did not yell and scream and curse the Gods who’d cast her out and placed her in this cold light. She remained poised, beautiful and soft. A diamond polished under a cruel wheel which had not broken nor been worn down, but shone with an inner fire and strength he was only beginning to understand in full.

When they stepped beyond the door to the porch, Lauren shut the door at her back after locking the knob. Loki took her by the hand and drew her in close. He touched her cheek, letting the pads of his fingers caress the soft flesh, in awe of her and all she’d done in her short life. “You are perhaps the strongest woman I have ever known. Frigga would have loved you and Odin would have found you charming.”

“High praise indeed,” she chuckled softly.

“The All-Father and I may not have seen things on the same level, but he had a way of seeing the heart of a person. Their inner strength. I believe even he would have been in awe of you… as I am.”

The amusement fell into wonder before a blush coloured her cheeks, and she looked shyly away. “You’re sweet, but I-”

He placed his finger on her lips. “You are a Valkyrie, strong of spirit and will. You are a Goddess with your soft heart and caring nature, and you are the greatest of High Priestesses, for you have captured the heart of the Trickster God. I have never loved you more than I do right now.”

Again she looked at him with eyes full of wonder, the surprise making his heart squeeze as he leaned down and placed a reverent kiss upon her lips. When he pulled back, he wondered if her lips tingled as his did. If her heart beat just as hard.

He drew his thumb over her lower lip. “Show me your forest, elskin min.”

She said nothing, only smiled gently, laced her fingers through his, and led him down the stairs into the night.

***

In a golden-domed building situated at the end of the rainbow bridge, the all-seeing eyes of Heimdall looked down upon the earth. He’d been watching the happenings with curiosity for Loki was not where he was supposed to be. This, typically, would be cause for great anxiety among the ones Thor called the Avengers, but they were continuing about their business as if nothing were amiss.

Intrigued, he continued to watch, especially when the spikes in magic grew. Loki was doing far more trickery than usual in the tiny town he was currently playing in, but it was the woman with him who finally attracted Heimdall's notice. Loki moved around her, a wolf on guard, one protecting his most cherished prize.

He chuckled when the realization of what he witnessed finally dawned clear like the sun over Asgard. The God of Mischief had finally met his match. He moved enough to catch the attention of the two guards at the door and called out, “Inform the King his presence is requested.” One of the two scurried away, the sound of a horse’s hooves scrabbling on the bridge coming back to him, but Heimdahl paid it no mind.

Thor would come. It would not matter with what the King was occupied. He would come because a call from the Guardian was rare.

Heimdall resumed his observation, watching Loki with amusement. Well and truly smitten, the God of Mischief was so wrapped up with his woman he did not even notice the eyes upon him.

The crack of thunder preceded his King’s coming before Thor arrived at his side. “My King.”

“Heimdall. What have your eyes seen that you would call for me?”

“Your brother is not where he should be.”

A soft sigh left Thor’s lips before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What has he done now? Will I be receiving an irate summons from Stark?”

“They do not seem upset by his change of location, and Loki is… occupied at present.”

That had Thor looking up with interest. “Occupied with what?”

“Not a what, but a who. A pretty blonde woman holds all of Loki’s attention. So much so, he has not noticed my eyes. Strange indeed.” Heimdall had a smirk twitch his lips.

“Blonde?” Thor’s eyes widened. “Quite sleek, moves a bit like a cat, has green eyes?”

“A fitting description, my king.”

“Lauren,” Thor chuckled, a smile growing to fill his face before he threw back his head and laughed. “He finally did it!” Clapping his large hands together, Thor looked at Heimdall. “Tell me everything!”

Next Chapter

#balance #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #southern belle

[theproofinthisong]

fine line review

oh my goooood i just finished listening to the album and i NEED to express my thoughts:

golden: didn’t know what to expect with this one but it’s?? so beautiful?? harry was so right saying it was a driving song it makes you want to go to california and watch the sunset from the car?? also the sun theme is so poetic and beautiful the way he uses it to talk about louis, his beloved?? the melody is quite simple but it’s so effective and these little da da da sounds the choir make in the background...heavenly. this part reminds me of another song but i can’t remember which one. what i love about this one is that it’s first time i’ve listened the lyrics seemed a quite sad (but riddled with hope still) and now the second time the meaning changed totally?? like it’s witchcraft how much the meaning can change once you look at the lyrics closely?? i know harry was talking about adore you when speaking about that feeling of bliss when you first meet the love of your life and fall completely but this is also what golden is about?? like being afraid but diving deep into it knowing this is right. i’m emo. in terms of vocals, it isn’t as BOOM as in other songs (in the sense that he’s not belting, using falsetto or a very low intonation that differs from his usual tone) but i love it!!! it’s very calm and peaceful and dreamy.

watermelon sugar: miss watermelon sugar is still as iconic as the first day she came out. it’s such a wonderful tune. my impressions on this song will never change and i will listen to it for another 30 times round without even hesitating. it just feels very summery and sensual and sexy without being too explicit (even though there is nothing wrong with being super explicit...see medicine). the chorus is just super catchy. the lyrics are so nice and i love the melody. very old pop and i’m a slut for this genre. also i know this has been HUGELY talked about before but i need to say it again. the way he’s saying belly!! the softness of the breathe me in/breathe me out parts!! the last watermelon sugar i don’t know why i’m obsessed it JUST SLAPS

adore you: oh darling. a treasure. 8 days ago, first time i’ve heard it, it took me by surprise because i wasn’t expecting that sound...but six seconds in and i was SOLD and already cherishing her with all of my heart. this song is JUST PERFECT. it’s probably the song that is the closest to 1D mixed with HS1 in terms of sound, like it’s super modern but at the same time has these very old school vibes i’m in LOVE WITH?? this is such a sweet joyful sappy song about his soulmate and i :’) also the rainbow paradise line i haven’t recovered from  bitches. i will never. this is such a certain and blatant declaration of love i wanna die!! i feel acknowledged as a romantic bitch who lives for this kind of grand gestures. thanks harry. also during some parts he sounds like old harry (i mean harry from 1d days) and then 2019 harry takes over and it makes me CRY

lights up: the first single and song from the era will always a soft soft in my heart. i listened to the track so many fucking times the words are tattooed onto my brain. this song was just so needed and so important. it’s so deep and means everything to me really. all of us wanted a song from him about identity and self discovery and lights up was the gift he gave us. never in my life i would have have dreamed of this song and it happened for real. i’m just so grateful. his voice in this is just so soft and delicate and so fitting for the song like it DEMANDS that tenderness and sweetness. also the choir gives me chills, like when they scream SHINE i just feel overwhelmed it’s!!! fuck!! i could write an essay about lights up because this song is just it. it makes you feel seen and understood and i just feel so lucky harry was able to share something as intimate as this.

cherry: lmaoooo. this one will be a skipper sorry. it’s far from being a bad piece because harry’s voice is always amazing but i can’t get over the voicemail. when the news came out i was just so appealed and angry but know i’m just cackling?? i’m french and what is this slander?? THE COUCOU AT THE BEGINNING IS RIDICULOUS!! and the ending sounds so rehearsed there is literally nothing naturel about it. thank god we hear harry’s laugh in it. I JUST KNOW it was added because there is no way he would have laughed irl at one of her jokes lol. lyrically you can see some parts were put there to make an allusion to the stunt (the accent & friends part, the gallery...) but others are just about louis?? like him being jealous of course it’s about the hubby. his voice is still beautiful but the melody doesn’t speak to me (and i would have telled you if it was the case) being objective, it’s the weakest one out of the album.

falling: OH MY FUCKING GOOOOD. i wanna say it’s my favorite song but i feel like it would diminish the love i have for the others but god...this song is breathtaking and out of this world. in terms of lyrics it’s the best HANDS DOWN. like period. fuck this song just BROKE ME. all that ache and heartbreak you get what he’s talking about when he said to zane lowe he hit rock bottom then. fucking hell. it just hurts knowing he hated himself that much like i can’t even fathom it. and his voice bloody hell?? i never heard him sing like that!!! it’s just so desperate and full of hurt and the high notes? please annihilate me. when i heard it i would at first sight i would be my favorite out of fine line. it was just so obvious. that kind of magic doesn’t happen a lot...like. i can’t pinpoint what part hurts me the most because the whole song is TORTURTING ME. when we’ll hear live i will be bawling for the rest of my life. i’m already am. my god it’s just so raw and honest no other artist can make me feel like that. you are experiencing the hurt with him it’s??? i have no words. and please this song makes no fucking sense if you don’t link to his relationship to louis like?? the i’m well aware i write too many songs about you?? hello??? i’m glad he doesn’t feel like that anymore because it hurts. it’s crazy how this song can pull you back to ancient memories and you just forget about the world. oh my god.

to be so lonely: i almost fell out of my chair (or bed, rather) because this song did not fit at all what i was expecting but it’s?? gold??? i was so sure it was going to be a full angsty ballad but it’s so catchy and it has those beatles vibe? like PLEASE. king of defying expectations. it’s so english. and it’s so smart because when the melody and rythm makes you think it’s gonna be corny (in the best sense of the word) but it’s kinda passive agressive? AND ALSO THE SWEARING. DON’T, STYLES. UR MY SON. i’m kidding. him hearing him say arrogant son of a bitch is THE PINNACLE of my life. also am i the only one that feels like if you change the beat a little and accelerate it on don’t call me baby ever again it would sound a bit like never enough? loved the throwback nonetheless. it isn’t a favorite yet but it’s already growing on me.

she: bloody fucking hell. first this song is timeless. it feels like it came straight (gay!!!) from the seventies. i had eagles vibes first listen but some said pink floyd and it’s SO TRUE. there are tons of rock influences in it but it’s so harry and manages to still be super unique?? just incredible. the writing of the song is the smartest out of HS2. it reminds me of woman (not in the way i was expecting...i had one supposition it was going to be about being envious of a woman while dumb people are tricked by the title) so much not in melody or lyrics at all but in the sense that it has a double (triple...and more) meanings. once again stupid hets think it’s about singing about the ideal girl when really it’s...on another plane of existence. like jesus. bitch i was right!!! it’s either a song on gender identity (harry singing about his feminine side that he was ashamed of for so long and tried to hide) or the closet and my god, the whole thing is just so clever.  A MASTERMIND. and the switch from the third person to the third KEATS you’ve been beaten. what a writer. it has thousands of interpretations this is just a trip. holy shit. the whole song carries so much guilt and repression and wishing be free of those feelings it’s?? i’m speechless. it’s so complex and intense. and fuck the guitar solo outro IS HISTORIC. in decades it will be praised as a masterpiece by all. i just know it. mitch you’re a genius. it gives just so much resonance and impact to the piece and it already had everything... i’m in heaven. or in hell. don’t know.

sunflower vol 6; cutest and weirdest song on earth and it’s A FAVE. it’s so colorful and nothing like he ever did before i’m living for it. it’s SAPPY AS FUCK and we stan sunflower in this house. also the part where he’s singing about wanting to kiss his lover kinda sounds like a lullaby and an alphabet song mixed together it’s ADORABLE!!! it’s such a being young and in love track i’m giggling!! it’s so precious!!! very poppy and gives you joy for days!! also super summery!! i wanna dance and twirl to it!! AND THE ENDING IS SO FUCKING LEGENDARY. BIG HIGH ON CRACK ENERGY. BITCH. it’s so uncanny like is he imitating a bird? calling someone?? trying to sound 5? i don’t know but it’s endearing. just so lovely.

canyon moon: another one i was expecting to be slow and it wasn’t. very country. thanks kacey for the input!! also him putting “jenny” in that sound is he trying to be adopted by dixie chicks and dolly parton? I LOVE that he’s trying new things with this track like country is such a hard genre to tackle and he nailed it. AND OH MY GOD THE LYRICS. it makes so emotional he’s literally creating a safe place for him and his darling?? could you be more in love?? this song belongs to the gays. san junipero without the angsty feelings. we deserved that. also he really mentioned the two weeks rule i’m weak. THIS IS INFURIATING.

treat people with kindness: the group part just sounds like a sitcom from the 80s. i’m dying. he really did that. and he named it like that :’) ALSO A GAY ANTHEM I CAN’T WAIT TO SCREAM THOSE LYRICS. big end of the days vibe. it’s just so healing and reassuring. it’s so empowering and i love the contrast between the very catchy happy bits (the high notes and the part where he kinda talks at the end reminded so much of mika which is a huge compliment as far as i’m concerned!!!) and that part where he’s singing very slow and soft you can see it’s very personal with him gaining confidence thanks to us during hslot <3 i’m dying this is such an exceptional gesture to like dedicate this to your fans? it’s so universal while being about his own journey (just like home..i’m sobbing) and that is like the mark of great music. also the instrumental is godsent.

fine line: i can see why it’s his favorite and why it is ending the album and giving it its name. i said falling was my fave but honestly fine line might be it too? the only difference is that i didn’t fall in love instantly, it takes time to escalate (it’s very similar to sott in that sense) beginning softly and almost whispered (also the high tone?? i almost didn’t recognized harry but at the same time it’s just 100% percent him but HE NEVER SANG in THAT TONE i’m!!! my jaw is dropping all the way to mars) like you can see it BUILDING to something superior and never made before... it’s a moment, it’s an experience, it just suspends time. like when music can do that for you...it’s infinite stuck in a few minutes. the two last minutes are purely angelic and the most beautiful thing i’ve ever heard. it has very few lines and words but the one there are so meaningful. when the song ended i just stayed a bit in silence without moving i could not believed what i just witnessed. and the album ending with we’ll be alright...it’s so fucking special. and that word doesn’t even give it justice.

fucK. this album is just...i’m trying to find words but how can you. when you make an album as ambitious and as outstanding as HS1 it’s hard to go back to the studio and find a way to equate it (i’m not saying top it because both can’t even be compared...) but he somehow did it?? i had no doubt but holy shit it’s unreal. it’s crazy because fine line is so different from the first one while being as rock and pop but there is a level of maturity and vulnerability that feels just so? different?? i can’t seem to find the right expression but i’m am purely in awe. i dk how harry finds a way to exceed my expectations every time like... it’s?? i’m sorry i’m just so moved and... it just means everything. 

two years and a half after and the feeling is the same. an album changing me and my life at first listen and 48 minutes that felt like a lifetime and a second at the same time.

#fine line #my posts

[tatttletale]

❀ The Good ❀

"Rose Quartz."

       The gravelly tone made her turn. There she was, standing in front of her, that perfect Jasper. Even with Gems fleeing in every direction, summoning weapons, advancing, the Quartz seemed to stand above everything else.

       Rose narrowed her eyes. "Jasper. What do you want?"

       She grinned. Her smile was wide and threatening. "Isn't that obvious? I want to crush you." Her eyes hardened. "You and all your defective Gems."

       She wouldn't be beaten by this Gem. She was a Diamond.

       She shot her the iciest glare she could manage. "And why do you want that, Jasper? Why do you sentence our planet to destruction?"

       "Pink Diamond's planet," the Quartz seethed. Something in her stony expression trembled. "Pink Diamond's planet deserves better than you, you FILTH!"

       Rose took a subconscious step back. The Quartz quickly filled the distance. "You defective, pathetic, overcooked FILTH! She was your DIAMOND!"

       "Well, maybe I didn't want to be imprisoned anymore," she bit back. "Wouldn't you rather be free? Free to make your own decisions? To live your own life?"

       "The only reason I have a life is because of Pink Diamond," Jasper hissed. She lunged forward, and Rose raised her shield, tensing against the impact. When she lowered it again, Jasper was standing, her visor cracked. Her eyes were wet.

       "She was everything I had to live for," she growled, and her voice quaked. "I loved her. Everyone loved Pink Diamond. And you had to TAKE HER AWAY!"

       "Rose!"

       She spun just in time to see Snowflake disappear in a puff of smoke. Her mottled gemstone clinked to the ground. Bismuth was still holding her own against the Homeworld Citrine.

       "Rose, help!" Bismuth begged her, and Rose raised her sword, launching herself forward.

       "ROSE!!"

       Poof!

       She stopped in her tracks. Pearl's gemstone rolled to a stop at her feet, and when she looked back up at Jasper, she blinked back furious tears.

       "I only met with Pink Diamond once," Jasper gritted, and Rose is ready to attack her, to cut her down. She clenched her teeth and brandished her sword—

       "But I know she loved me!"

       The words arrested her motion. She stared, dumbfounded, at the looming Quartz. Tears were flowing freely down her patterned face. "She loved me," she whispered. "And I loved her too. She was my everything. And you shattered her."

       Jasper swiped an arm across her face and glared with hatred at Rose. "Have you ever felt loved?"

Pink swings her legs to the music. Before her, Gems belonging to all the Courts are dancing in tandem, swaying, swinging, gliding across the floor. How she longs to jump down and dance along with them . . . but these festivities are for her beloved Gems, not for herself.

       And, she smiles to herself, look how blissful they are.

       She turns and looks up at Yellow. She is startled to see her gazing back at her with bright eyes.

       The larger Diamond's eyes are soft, and Pink beams up at her, swinging her arm out at the multitude of dancing Gems. Yellow nods and smiles in return, and, happily, Pink whips back around to wave at Blue.

       Later, at the closing of the Ball, her Pearl catches her alone. "Oh, my Diamond, it's wonderful! They all love you!"

       She laughs tenderly. "As much as you do, my Pearl?"

       "Oh, don't tease me! Look, look!"

       The Gem on her navel lights up and in front of her is projected an imagining of a pair of higher class Gems — Jades, Pink thinks to herself.

       The two Gems hold hands and gaze at her — down at her. "Oh, please tell Pink Diamond how wonderful we think she is!" beams the first. She cups the gem on her cheek in excitement.

       "Yes," smiles the other, composed. "We greatly enjoy her festivities. Many Gems, we know, look forward to her Balls."

       "Oh, yes, they most certainly do!" chimes the first. "We all adore your Diamond, Pearl! She makes us so happy!"

       And the imagining dissipates, leaving Pink stunned, but pleasantly flushed.

       "Pearl," she whispers. "Is that a memory?"

       "Yes! Yes, of course!" Her excitement is palpable. "It's all true, every moment of it!"

The night sky stretched gloriously above them. The gentle lapping of the waves echoed back along the beach.

       "Rose . . . do you ever think about home?" Pearl asked, her voice soft.

       She blinked. Home?

       When she raised her eyes to the gorgeous dome of the sky, spattered with stars, one in particular caught her attention.

       Her expression darkened. ". . .Oh."

       "I suppose. . ." Pearl continued. "Don't you ever miss . . . them? Blue? Yellow?"

       When Rose spoke, her voice was sharp. "No."

       Pearl, lying back in the grass, seemed to jump at her tone, but rolled her head shyly towards her. ". . . Why not?"

       "The Diamonds . . . I was never treated like they treated each other. I wasn't someone to them. I was just . . . just the last piece of the puzzle."

       Silence. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Rose had just begun to drift off when Pearl spoke again.

       ". . . They did care about you, you know."

       Since her and Garnet's forming Sardonyx, Pearl had become increasingly confident. Rose would be proud of her, if she hadn't picked such a controversial topic.

       Rose scoffed. "Well, they didn't act like it, did they."

       A small pause.

       "Well . . . they did give you the Earth. Before . . . Before I was given to you, I overheard White Diamond discussing the entire Solar System with the others. She planned to give it all to you."

       Rose didn't answer. As the gentle breeze blew, curls tickled her cheeks, and she gazed up at the indicator of the Homeworld galaxy. Home. . .

"Blue! Blue, watch out!"

       Pink charges in ahead of White, taking a great leap and splashing right into the other Diamond's relaxation pool. When she surfaces, Blue laughs, shaking sodden locks from her eyes.

       "My, Pink, and what has you so excited, hm?"

       "White, White! Tell her what you did!"

       Blue smiles up at White, and the larger Diamond rests herself on the edge of the platform.

       "I decided it was time for my Starlight to become properly integrated into our Authority."

       "She gave me a ship, Blue!"

       Pink splashes over to the Diamond and scrambles up to sit on her knees, poking above the water.

       "A ship of my very own! And it's HUGE! It's a pair of legs — pink legs — and White told me they fit together with her head and your and Yellow's arms!"

       "Oh, that's just wonderful, Pink!" Blue coos, and lifts her with both hands up to her face. She plants a soft kiss on her head and shoots White a mischievous look. "Your leg ship is centuries overdue, if I'm to be completely honest."

       "I love it, White! Thank you!"

       White gives a small smile, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Anything for my Starlight."

"Do you . . . miss your home planet?"

       "No. Never."

       As she sat, thinking, perched upon the Temple warp pad, she admitted to herself, quietly, that that wasn't quite true.

       Amethyst was a very capable Gem, indeed, but her childish ways, and the Crystal Gems' reception to them, reminded Rose very much of herself and the other Diamonds, at times.

       Sometimes, she caught herself thinking about the rays of light in her Homeworld life. She had left because of the darkness, but sometimes, she wonders, could she have expanded those tiny rays of light herself?

       If she had worked harder, could she, really, have brought her family together, or would she always be looked down upon, as was the way?

       Abuse, humans called it. But only in recent times.

       Over the centuries, she had approached many humans, and posed for them the hypothetical scenario. In the beginning, when humans still hunted and gathered, and indeed, through the times, until only very recently, they had told her that's how their lives had always been. Only in the past ten to twenty years had people told her that that sort of treatment was not right.

       It made her doubt herself sometimes, and increasingly often. So many humans had endured what she had, but they had lived with it. They had not put up a fight. They had taken the light in their lives and cherished it.

       Should she have done the same? Could she have lived happily on Earth with her family?

       Could she have let herself by loved by them?

"Your Zoo is really very interesting, Pink."

       Pink, gazing down at the humans' enclosure with Yellow, sighs softly. This isn't what she had wanted. Though they are fascinating, and incredibly adaptable, these humans should be free on their planet.

       She has to admit, they do seem much happier now. She has observed them over the years, and this current generation has to be the second since their capture. Now, they thrive in their artificial environment, and they enjoy themselves regardless.

       What she can't forget about them is their purpose — their sole purpose, just to exist. Humans aren't born or created, like Gems, to serve, to work. They are born to live, and that is all.

       "Perhaps we can 'preserve' some other organic species in more tailored Zoos."

       She starts at that, and, plastering a quick smile on her face, she reassures Yellow. "Oh no, it's really alright. The humans . . . The humans are wonderful by themselves, really."

       "But you do enjoy keeping them, don't you?" Yellow observes. When she turns her gaze on Pink, her expression is tender. "Wouldn't you like some more variety? I know you'll get bored of these organics eventually." She laughs. "But if we got you some more . . . well, you'd be entertained for millennia, wouldn't you? And you could conduct scientific research on your organics, make some use out of them. If you wished, I could help you with that."

       Pink is feeling herself grow hopeful. If Yellow wants to preserve so many species for her. . .

       "Why don't we just preserve Earth?" She asks. "That way, I can keep all the organics in their natural environment!"

       Yellow sighs. "We've been over that, Pink. If you wish to help expand our Empire, you must carry through colonising your planet."

       There's a bitterness flaring in her chest. Why won't they just listen? She's about to talk back to Yellow when an alarm blares and the lighted walls pulse. There's a thundering sound echoing down the hall.

       Yellow straightens and pulls her to stand behind her for protection. A horde of Amethyst guards — they're all so original, so unique! Pink thinks to herself — skid to a stop in front of Yellow.

       "And what do you think you're doing?" The Diamond reprimands.

       One of the guards gulps. "Uh, Your Clarity. . . One of the humans has breached the enclosure gateway."

       Yellow tuts and steps aside, pulling Pink gently with her. "Very well. Go see to your duties, then."

       Pink tugs at Yellow's hand. "Yellow! Can I— Can we please go with them? I'd love to help with the humans!"

       "Certainly not!"

       Yellow's tone is sharp, and Pink slumps, watching the army disappear around the corner.

       Yellow tugs at her hand and, when Pink looks up, her expression is tender. "We wouldn't want you getting hurt."

       She glances one last time through the window and into the Zoo. "Now, let's get you back to your Earth base, hm? We can contact Blue from there. I'm sure she'd love to hear about your progress."

As her gem glows, she can feel her light form dissipating, retracting, and it's painful.

       But she will not do anything to stop it. She wanted — wants this child with Greg, and she knew he and the Gems would look after them.

       She already loves her child more than she feels she has the right to, considering she has never even seen them, never known them. But she adores them, her child, her human child, all the same.

       Gazing up at the Gems through happy and pained tears, she can see they are all distraught. She wishes she can tell them how much they mean to her, but she has no strength left to. All she can do is trust that her child, her wonderful child, will show them that love themselves.

       As she fades away, she thinks about the Bad, and the Good, and bids her families, both of them, goodbye. Perhaps she can make a better difference in this world. . .

       With Steven.

PROMPT: "I know that Pink was abused by the other diamonds but I am just wondering if you will highlight the good memories she had with them. I would love to see more of their relationship as they seemed to genuinely love her in certain parts of the show." — for cat4139 on Fanfiction.net! Hope you enjoyed! :)

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[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Yellow Rose, Chapter 58

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10695372/58/Yellow-Rose

Raoul took the children back to the hotel after lunch, so that Christine and Meg could have some time alone. They took a trip to Coney Island, rode the carousel, treated themselves to ice cream, then took the boat back and made it to Christine's hotel long after the young mother's usual bedtime.

Still, Christine did not feel the least bit put out by the late hour; she and her friend were giggling like young ballet girls again. Their cheeks were bright red as they took turns cracking up the other. They stumbled in between bursts of laughter, so that they looked and sounded almost drunk.

They reached the hotel's entrance. Their laughter winded down as they smiled reluctantly at each other, knowing they must part for the night. "Sweet Meg, thank you for such a wonderful day."

"My pleasure, Christine! Lord, but it's wonderful to see you." A melancholy gleam entered her eyes. "Although I must say that even if it weren't you, I'd be delighted to see a living reminder of Paris again." She sighed. "I do get homesick, sometimes."

Christine swallowed a sly grin. "Hm. We shall see about that."

Meg turned serious. "Christine…I…I'm sure by that look you're giving you're planning some sort of visit from me in return, but…well…I can't explain it, but…it's not that simple…."

Christine patted her friend's mouth with one gloved hand, hushing her. "Raoul and I know more than you think, Meg. Now let's say not a word more about it."

At Meg's puzzled look, Christine hurried on to say, "But you! You've plied me with so many questions about myself, I barely had time to ask you anything about your own life here, aside from your career! Tell me now quickly, before I have to go inside."

Meg shrugged. "Not really much to tell outside my career and the school! Those are my life now."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "No suitor?"

Meg laughed. "Goodness, no! Who has the time for that?"

"Plenty of girls," Christine returned. "Even famous ones with big careers like you."

Meg merely laughed again, shaking her head.

A more knowing look came into Christine's dark eyes. "So there's no one?"

Meg's smile froze on her face.

"Meg?"

Meg cleared her throat. "Why…what makes you ask like that?"

Christine was silent. Meg couldn't read her soft expression. In a quiet voice, Christine finally asked, "And how is Erik?"

Meg's heart skipped a beat. She'd assumed that when Christine finally broached the subject of her former tutor, it would be through less direct means, through tentative implications instead. Meg was unprepared for such straightforwardness.

However, she met the task. "He's well. More than well, actually." Her eyes sparkled as she suddenly spoke hurriedly, ecstatically. "Oh, Christine! He's absolutely flourished here! You know he's made a mask to make him look like anyone? I hate it, I think it makes him look so unlike himself, but he's used it to great effect here! He's a consultant to the managers at the opera house, and also helps Mother handle my appointments. He's practically my agent now that Mother's so busy with the ballet at the Met." She wore a dreamy smile. "For the first time, I think he's truly come into his own."

She flushed scarlet, and Christine believed it was because of what she'd unknowingly revealed in her stream of praise.

Meg's next words came out in a more forced, cheerful tone. "But I could stand here babbling all night, and you need to get yourself to bed." Her face brightened expectantly. "I'll see you tomorrow? At the show?"

Christine squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "You couldn't stop me."

The friends embraced one more time. "Good night, Meg."

"Good night, Christine."

Erik watched from behind the hotel's pillar near the entrance as Meg disappeared inside the taxi carriage. Christine stood silent and thoughtful as the carriage took off. She stared peacefully into the night sky. Her form was highlighted by the fluorescent moonlight. She was in this moment, on this busy New York street, a distracted goddess of the night – like the first time he saw her.

As if he were a detached observer in his own body, he heard himself rasp, "Christine."

She whipped around, and her eyes were the dark bright pools of a doe's.

They faced each other for the first time since he told her he loved her, as she handed him the ring with tears running down her face, those years ago.

He still wore the ring on his finger. It gleamed silver in the moonlight.

Except for her wide eyes, her face for an endless moment was still, immobile; then, like a warm breeze crossing the night sky, she smiled gently. She reached out her hand.

"My angel. I've been expecting you."

His heart pounded as he took her hand in his slowly. Tears stung his eyes.

She shivered as the moonlight caught his pale blue eye behind his mask – he wore the usual one, from before, so as not to alarm her. His mask always reminded her of a half-moon, never more so than now in the dead of night. He was much the same, but…healthier, somehow. More alive. Although she could not be sure from where he still stood mostly concealed in shadow, she thought there was more color to the white cheek untouched by the mask.

He was still elegant. He still possessed the inhuman grace of a sleek panther. He was still unlike anyone she had ever seen.

Yes, his heart pounded to be near her again, and she shivered. But was it with the obsessive passion of the worshipful tutor behind the mirror, and the mesmerized intrigue of the dutiful pupil?

He looked and looked at her, desperately searching for the answer.

Again, great warmth and fondness filled him.

But….

He looked at her and saw a beloved friend. Not the cherished muse.

He bowed his head and dared pressing her soft gloved hand just barely to his lips. "Forgive me, my Christine. Forgive me."

A tender chuckle. "For what? For before, or for seeking me out now?"

Her laughter stopped as his eyes met hers with sharp, naked emotion. "For not knowing how to feel."

Both ignored the breeze that stirred the trees surrounding the hotel, bringing with it a deepened chill.

Although Christine's smile was gone, there remained on her face that look he'd never seen before until this afternoon. In that look was missing the youthful naivety and the yearning sorrow of days past that had once conquered him, kept him awake during long, lonely nights underground.

What he saw now was a deep contentment she'd never had at the opera house. With him. Her eyes, he knew, would always carry that slight melancholy cast, but now it seemed more a physical attribute than from anything within her.

When he spoke, his liquid tenor was thin and quiet. "Are you happy?"

Her smile returned – more beautiful and glorious than he had ever seen it. "Yes."

It was a straightforward answer, and true.

He bowed his head again. The black brim of his fedora – Christine thought never to see that hat again – shaded his face, give his mask and his skin a faint blue tint in the darkness.

"You are happy," he repeated in a low murmur. She knew he spoke to himself, rolling the idea around in his mind.

He sounded almost perplexed, as if this were one more piece of a puzzle he couldn't begin to piece together.

But Christine, so used to living in her own emotions and so quite able to read them in others – particularly in one who'd once ruled and terrorized and enhanced her life – knew what picture the pieces made.

She knew he wanted to feel one extreme way or the other about her happiness with Raoul, her children, her life: both great despair and anger that she found it not with him, or else the nobler emotion of great serenity, happy that the woman he loved was happy.

Indeed, deep down, he felt pleased and relieved – but not with the self-sacrificial fervor he expected. These were honorable feelings, and just – but for a treasured friend.

Not for someone whom he had once considered the love of his life.

There was a lingering bitterness, but it was directionless, ineffectual.

Christine closed her eyes gently. Oh, but what did she feel, what did she feel….

She opened her eyes and the look she gave him with her warm dark eyes was what he always imagined a loving mother would bestow on a favored child. "You said you don't know how to feel. Well, I can't tell you. I can only tell you what you don't feel: the way you once did for me. And I can tell you something more: Meg is in love with you."

The air grew even colder as another gust of wind brushed past the two figures.

At his sharp intake of breath, she continued. "Oh, no, she didn't tell me in words. But I know that girl like I know my own mind, and I know a woman in love. She has never been sad before, never, not once since I've known her. She is now – but subtly, and it doesn't conquer her, but it's as if she didn't know the reason why."

She turned lightly mischievous. She wagged her finger at him. "So you'd better not hurt her, monsieur."

He shook his head, confounded. She felt a twang, as his helplessness reminded her of the way he stood staring dumbfounded at her in the lair after she kissed him. It was a look of agonized upheaval. Awakening.

"Christine…." He whispered once more.

She closed her eyes again. This was, perhaps, the last time she'd ever hear him say her name. "I've suspected her feeling for you a long time now. But it's only today that I knew, truly knew. I was...jealous, at first. Not in the way you might think. It's as if I'm losing my father all over again, that's all. But...I don't need him anymore. I have a family now, a career. I don't need him and I don't need you."

Despite her firm words, there was no harshness. No rebuke. She was sweet, honest. Loving, in ways he never knew he needed.

But still she raised her head proudly, the moonlight casting a white halo about her brown locks.

When she spoke again, it was with such wisdom and maturity that he realized he did not know her anymore. "So, go. Love Meg or don't love Meg. But go. Live your life free of my ghost forever. For that's all I ever was: a ghost of what you thought you wanted."

He felt an electric shock as her silken gloved hand touched his bare cheek. "Goodbye, sweet Angel."

Through his jumbled confusion of emotion, he still knew one thing clearly: he'd never hear another voice like hers again.

She was gone into the hotel before he had chance to awaken from his stunned haze.

A/N: Yes, I've cribbed the line "I know her like I know my own mind" from Hamilton. What can I say, sister relationships are my kryptonite.

#Yellow Rose #erik/meg #merik #christine daae #poto