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shawtygonemad · 1 year

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CORRUPTED: CHAPTER THREE

Let Me Save You

Masterlist

Rose Hathaway x Dimitri Belikov

Chapter Trigger Warning: Slight NSFW thoughts

[Dimitri POV]

Let me save you. Let me save you. It’s not a rescue if I just want to. Just say yes now, and I won’t tell anyone else. So let me save you. Let me save you.

I approached the CD player with one of the mixed tapes I had in my office. Just as I was about to place it in Rose’s loud voice bellowed out.

“Oh no! We are done listening to your old man music!” She huffed as she stormed over while hastily throwing her hair into a bun. “Give me your phone.”

“What?” I chuckled, thinking she was joking. “No.”

She stared at me for a moment with a challenging look. A second later, she turned on her heels and headed towards the doors that led to the locker rooms and guardian offices.

“Rose!” I called for her, but she ignored me and stepped through the doors.

My lips formed into a tight line as I gave a quiet growl of frustration. With irritation building, I followed her. She was so stubborn and headstrong. I wish she’d just listened to me for once!

I found her in my office. She was sitting on the edge of my desk. Her legs were crossed as she intently stared at my cell phone in her hand. I briefly had to close my eyes. Seeing her sitting like that, in my environment no less, did shameful things to me. Her lips had been slightly pursed as she tried to figure out my passcode. Lips that looked so utterly kissable.

“Comrade, what’s your passcode?” Rose asked with the most irresistible pout.

It was hard to stay mad at her most times. I playfully rolled my eyes as I took the phone from her. After entering the code, I passed the unlocked device back to her. She gave the biggest smile at this. I approached as she was downloading an app. My towering figure leaned against the desk beside where she sat. This made it easy for me to peer down and see what she was up to.

“What’s Spotify?” I asked.

“It’s a music app,” she explained. “We can finally listen to music from this decade!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I enjoy listening to my current music selection?” I raised an eyebrow.

Rose gave a sigh through her nose before speaking again. “Alright, let’s compromise. What if we create a combined playlist? That way, we can both have the music we like on it. Deal?”

“Deal,” I smiled as I shook her extended hand in agreement.

Her hands were so small and soft compared to mine. She only had a few callouses, which I could tell made her self-conscious. There was nothing for her to worry about, though. Everything about her was perfect. Every bump, dip, scar. It was all incredible and made Rose who she was. All of her imperfections helped turn her so beautiful.

‘Enough,’ I mentally scolded myself. ‘You can not keep thinking of her like that. She is your student, and you are her mentor.’

I needed to take my mind off of her, off of how close our bodies were. Focusing on the task at hand usually helped. My eyebrows furrowed when I focused back on what Rose was doing.

“Why are you adding a song from a playlist named ‘He’s a 10 but he’s in jail’?” I asked, amused.

“Jail isn't fun, but some pretty good songs can come from it,” Rose stated nonchalantly.

“You’ve been to jail?” Amusement dripped in my voice as I raised my eyebrow once more.

“Once,” the novice so plainly confirmed. “In Monopoly.”

This caused her to laugh out loud at her own joke. I chuckled and shook my head at her antics. How was this girl the most humorous person I’ve ever met? Ivan would have been so disappointed to learn that she took his triumphant place as the comic relief in my life. He would have loved her, though. They are so much alike. Their humor, mischievousness, and overall confidence. The two of them would have been as thick as thieves and definitely would have conspired against me.

The blaring sound of my phone’s ringer went off, disrupting my dream. My eyes scrunched with annoyance as I tried to bring myself to full consciousness. I rolled over and leaned on my elbow as I snatched the phone from the bedside table. The ringer must have still been all the way up from being at the club last night. God forbid Zmey lets me miss one of his phone calls.

Speaking of which, his name was on the caller ID. I glanced at the last retreating strands of daylight slipping behind the hotel curtains. Why would he be calling me this early in the Moroi morning?

“Belikov,” I answer, my voice deep from sleep.

“Guardian Belikov, please don’t hang up! It’s Lissa. I need to talk to you,” Vasilisa’s sweet, but anxious, voice came through the speaker.

Hearing her voice kicked me back into my guardian drive.

“Princess? Is everything alright?” I asked, wide awake now.

“Yes. Well… no. I need you to stop your search for Rose,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“Princess, I-”

“Just listen! I think there is a way we can save Rose. She trusted you, so I know that means I can trust you too. Now I just need you to trust me,” Vasilisa said.

I paused for a moment to consider before responding. “Okay.”

“I know Rose told you about everything: the car accident, my abilities, our bond. After some research, I have a theory that I’m confident will work. My spirit brought her back from the dead once, and I believe I can do it again,” the princess explained. “As a strigoi she’s technically dead, or undead, or whatever! If I stake her, bringing her to the brink of death again, then use my spirit… I think I can resurrect her. I can bring her soul back.”

My whole world froze. The only sound I could hear was my heart rapidly beating inside my chest. Could this be true? I’d be absolutely anything to bring my Roza back to me. Only this sounds like a fairytale. There have never been any recorded instances of Strigoi being resurrected. Although that’s what I’ve always thought about Spirit.

I knew my neighbor in Baia, Oksana, claimed to be a Spirit user. Sadly, I just never fully believed her. It wasn’t until I saw it used right before my eyes with Vasilisa. Rose was living, breathing, proof that it was real. I’ve read reports on their accident. There should have been no survivors. Yet those two girls lived to see the next day. So maybe the princess is right. She brought Rose back from death once. Why couldn’t she do it again?

“Hello? Are you still there?” Vasilisa’s voice called out through the receiver.

“Yes. I’m just… processing,” I replied.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. We- ooo!” Her voice waiver before she took a quick pause. “Sorry about that. I just got a random chill. Anyway, we need your help. Where are you? We can send someone to get you.”

“Princess-”

“No buts! Listen, I know you basically threw everything away when you went looking for Rose. If you help with this then I can personally promise you’ll be welcome back to the guardians with no repercussions. All we need to do is get a plan together. I believe we can do this. We all do!” She encouraged me.

“Thank you, princess. That’s all very kind of you. But if I do return to the guardians then I will take whatever punishment they hand out to me. I went AWOL and it’s nothing to take lightly.” Then something clicked into place. “I’m sorry, did you say we? Princess, before I forget to ask, why are you calling me from-”

A new voice joined the line. The same one that always managed to send chills down my spine. He spoke in fluent Russian. I assume to be sure those near him didn’t hear what he had to say.

“Belikov,” Zmey greeted. “I need to know that you’re fully on board with this. I know that all of this sounds like nonsense, but I believe this could work. I’ve heard stories of Strigoi being restored in the past. Maybe two or so cases. However, the Dragomir princess’s theory sounds the most plausible when it comes to the how. I think it can be worth a shot.”

I sighed before speaking. I needed to remember that this was for Rose.

“I’m in,” I answered.

“Excellent. Now, are you in the same location I gave to you a few days ago? I can send for a plane to come get you,” Zmey continued.

“No. It was a deadend. I’m in Wilmington, Delaware, now. Choice Inn and Suites near the airport,” I replied.

“You’re not too far from here then,” he said before speaking aloud and in English. “Paval, have a plane sent to pick Belikov up in Wilmington, Delaware.”

A distant voice of Paval could be faintly heard.

"Well, his hotel is about a 10 minute drive to the airport. So he can just meet you there," Zmey discussed with his guardian.

“Where are you? And why are you with the Dragomir princess?” I snipped as I could feel my frustration building.

“Lord Szelzky typically resides in Nepal. However, he does have an estate in Pennsylvania for when he is needed at Court. That’s where he’s been residing for the last month or so. However, the home was attacked by a Strigoi. Lord Szelsky and one guardian were killed. Can you guess who that Strigoi was?” Bitterness seeped into Zmey’s mouth.

My blood ran cold, and I prayed that I wasn’t right. “Rose.”

“There was only one survivor she left alive, and that was her mother. She has a severe concussion, a few broken ribs, and chest contusions. All of that so she could give you a message,” more venom dripped into his voice.

“A message?”

“She told Janine to tell you to come and find her. That she’ll be waiting.” There was a pause before he continued. “Be at runway nine in two hours. Guardian Pavel will be there to greet you.”

The line went dead and I felt my stomach sink. I was the reason for Guardian Hathaway’s injuries. But how did Rose discover that I was tracking her? I’ve kept my location and plans secretive. People made assumptions, but they never had concrete evidence. I just turned in my resignation to Alberta and left without further notice.

I groaned as I could feel a headache forming. My hands ran up and down my face a few times in hopes of alleviating it. Sadly, it didn’t help. So instead, I decided to get up and take a shower.

It wasn’t very long. Most times I use the shower to think and contemplate. Sometimes even daydream about a certain brunette being in there with her. Her warm, wet, skin pressed up against me from behind. Her worn hands sliding up the sides of my back before meeting together in the front. Then she’d slip those hands down my chest agonizingly slowly. Moving down their path until they graze the dips in my hips before grasp my-

No. It had to be a short shower. My things still needed to be packed up before I headed off to the airport. From the sounds of my stomach suddenly growling, I should probably grab something to eat on the way as well.

It didn’t take long to pack, so that left me with plenty of time to get food. By the time I stepped outside, darkness had completely fallen everywhere. My guard needed to be up even more now. Especially since Rose knows that I’m looking for her. As I made my way through the parking lot to my car, I kept my eyes scanning the surroundings. Everything looked to be clear. I unlocked the door and quickly got in. Or as quickly as I could get into a Honda with my 6’7” frame.

Once inside I locked the doors and tossed my duffle bag to the front seat. Just as I turned the car on and settled in, I heard her voice. Like a beautiful angel of death coming to reap my soul.

“Hi Comrade,” Rose whispered in my ear.

Before I could even move, everything went black.

{Song Inspo: Let Me Save You by Emily Rowed}

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transmissionsfromthebattlefield · 8 months

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“Take My Word For It”

Thank god for classes starting up again so that I can pivot my screen time away from people making me lose faith in humanity and towards PDFs of textbooks. The weather is hot and the AC in the library is pumping. Kent State once again brims with life. I tabled at our freshman orientation club fair yesterday—so many little babies, yet over half of the girls seem to be taller than me. (Thanks, genetics.) It really does make my heart swell to be back, though. I am SO pumped.

Aside from classes and Task Force and all my friends and the best burritos in the world, I’m also very excited for the return to basic principles of human interaction. I’ve been people watching a lot online lately. Too much, in fact, and I need to stop. But the emotions and the news are pertinent, and they must be processed. I’ve been seeing a lot of exchanges online lately that are basically negative recommendations. Someone says they don’t care for something for whatever streamlined reason, and someone else agrees with zero visible actual external research on the subject. Asking for recommendations nowadays always has to come with some disclaimer. Disclaimers have become a big part of internet culture in general, and it’s a real shame. Weighing positives and negatives after even just a simple article or two or accepting that a friend likes whatever seems to be a thing of the past, in the digital sphere at least, in favor of following a herd to keep those whom we perceive as our friends or want to be our friends with. Have conspiracy theorists tainted the concept of “doing one’s own research”? Or maybe COVID as a whole wrecked us—we got so used to isolating ourselves from absolutely everyone that it has become second nature to shun anything deemed hypercharged bad buzzword, or alternatively “slime”. It didn’t even take a generation.

You might as well be taking somebody’s world for it, not just their word—one must be in to-tall alignment with the politikal perspektives of their frendos, or else we might have an astrologist’s worst nightmare on a self-worth scale: the planets are out of wack! I’m an idiosyncronous, imperfect ball of flesh on the same planet as many more of the same despite their abject differences from me! Help!

My anxious psyche leads me to distrust humans in general, but I think society has gone too far in its stagnant polarization. We bitch and we fight, to quote crappy post-Roger Waters Pink Floyd (most society as it currently stands is basically “Learning To Fly” on repeat blaring very loud in my ears, I think), and most of the time it’s about how we perceive the influence and morals of actively powerful forces in the world. You can have a great, insightful, constructive conversation about that. But we resort to stereotype and self preservation. And as those gears keep on churning in the background, as they always do and always will, we get nothing done. We forget that we have more in common with one another than we think, while preaching that same concept. But how much do we truly believe the preprogrammed responses we’ve taught ourselves to repeat?

Do we really want a free exchange of ideas, or do we crave that overtone addendum, “but only if they’re the right ones”? Do we even want to be right, or do we always need some abstract, accessible boogeyman to jab at while the powers that be pulling the strings only grow stronger? Do we want to grow stronger ourselves to someday defeat them, or do we succumb to the overwhelming complexity of the world at large and retreat to where we feel safest? Do we seek change, or do we only call for it, not work towards it? We praise the sacrifice of others, but how comfortable would we be with sacrificing ourselves—in any capacity—for the same cause?

Yet when you meet people in person, even these people, they laugh. They actually have senses of humor. They invite, most of the time. And if they repel, they repel. The intention becomes obvious. The experience can be learned from. Another side comes into view, separate from the PR-primed pop star we all fashion ourselves to be, secretly. The blood and guts are there to spill. The humanity is on full display.

And that’s why a damn good conversation beats nameless, faceless, face full of constructed ideological perfection protection any day of the week, regardless of whether or not class is in session.

#blog #rant #virtue signaling #the internet #humanity #human interaction #long post

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apocalypticavolition · 9 months

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 28: Footprints in Air

Yup, we're back to Whitebridge and I'm up to my old tricks. This reread is going to have spoilers for everything in the whole damn series and if you don't like that, you should skip this post. And maybe block the spoiler tags.

For everyone else, let's talk chapter icons! We've got Moiraine's staff again, and it might as well be her magnifying glass because she is playing detective this time around. She also plays off of Nynaeve, our POV, this time around (and really any time she and Nynaeve are in the same room).

Another legend, and they don’t even seem to notice. She resolved not to stare where they could see. They’ll laugh if they see me gaping like a country bumpkin.

Nynaeve is really good at getting in the way of her own happiness. Moiraine is way too busy contemplating the singular purpose to which she's dedicated her life to at the exclusion of all else like some kind of 90s anti-hero and her statue of a Warder would probably start gushing at Nynaeve about every cool relic he'd ever seen if he thought it would make her smile. While part of Nynaeve's attitude is just about spiting Moiraine, I think her insecurities come from the same kind of logic that Rand observed in how Wisdoms wouldn't possibly be allowed to dance at festivals: she's not allowed to have emotion or she's even worse at her job than everyone treats her already.

The scowl made her feel like a girl who had been caught acting the fool by someone in the Women’s Circle. That was a feeling Nynaeve was not used to, and the calm smile on Moiraine’s face only made it worse.

See what I mean? Nynaeve hasn't let herself be imperfect in a long, long time.

If only there was some way to get rid of the woman. Lan would be better by himself—a Warder should be able to handle what was needed, she told herself hastily, feeling a sudden flush; no other reason—but one meant the other.

"Their romance comes out of nowhere!" - people who clearly didn't read this sentence closely.

It weighed on Moiraine and Lan, too, as outwardly unperturbable as they were. She soon realized that, beneath their calm surfaces, hour by hour they wound tighter and tighter, like clocksprings being forced to the breaking point. Moiraine seemed to listen to things that were not there, and what she heard put a crease in her forehead. Lan watched the forest and the river as if the leafless trees and wide, slow water carried the signs of traps and ambushes waiting ahead.

They spent the last two weeks assuming that they were finally done looking and could get onto the much easier part of their job of fleeing to Tar Valon. Their POVs right now would be absolutely hysterical and full of exciting expletives, most of which Moiraine learned from Siuan.

Then, contradicting what he had just said, he added, “You should go back to your Two Rivers when we reach Whitebridge, and the Caemlyn Road. It’s too dangerous here. Nothing will try to stop you going back, though.” It was the longest speech he made all that day.

Much like Rand, Lan wants to keep his loved ones out of danger. If they were flirting any more strongly, Moiraine would have to look away for decency's sake.

Around the square at the foot of the White Bridge piles of blackened timbers, still leaking smoky threads, replaced half a dozen buildings. Men in poorly fitting red uniforms and tarnished armor patrolled the streets, but they marched quickly, as if afraid of finding anything, and they looked over their shoulders as they went. Townspeople—the few who were out—almost ran, shoulders hunched, as though something were chasing them.

Western Andor really isn't going to recover from Rand's recent tour for years, is it? And Elayne really has her work cut out for her; Whitebridge isn't anywhere near as far away from Caemlyn as Baerlon. It is a distance, but the books have already noted that this is one of the only river crossings anywhere in the continent.

Of course, maintaining the bridge is a complete non-issue because it's magic and not repairable even if it did start breaking anyway. If anything happened they'd have to just scrap it and start all the way over. So the crown would have no strong reason to worry about this place and without any serious military threats (*points and laughs at Altara and Murandy*), funding is quite possibly lower to this place than it is to Baerlon, whose mining territories aren't supernatural so far as we know.

So I guess the worldbuilding for the near collapse of Andorian territory actually checks out in a lot of ways!

The truth of the matter was there was a man somewhere in the town meddling with the One Power. It was time to have the Aes Sedai in; past time, was the way they saw it, no matter what the men said about Tar Valon. Let the Red Ajah settle matters. One man claimed it had been an attack by bandits, and another said a riot by Darkfriends. “Those ones going to see the false Dragon, you know,” he confided darkly. “They’re all over the place. Darkfriends, every one.” Still others spoke of some kind of trouble—they were vague about exactly what kind—that had come downriver on a boat.

This is a rare moment in the series where the rumors are more right than wrong. There was a male channeler in town (even though they couldn't have known that, because Rand did nothing), the Fade attack is basically a Darkfriend, and the trouble did indeed come downriver on a boat. Poor Bayle, being driven off for something that wasn't his fault. On the plus side, it may have saved him from further problems.

He seemed resplendent to Nynaeve, in his peaked helmet and burnished breastplate, until he took a pose just inside the door, with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword and a stern look on his face, and used a finger to ease his too-tight collar. It made her think of Cenn Buie trying to act the way a Village Councilor should.

By the end of the series, quite a few people will have put on costumes they never thought they'd wear. Maybe even this militia guy will have the benefit of growing into his role. He's certainly just a dick now though. What kind of asshole tries to kick Nynaeve out of town?

The Aes Sedai studied the tabletop for a moment before raising her eyes to Nynaeve’s, and when she did, Nynaeve started back from a flash of anger that almost seemed to make Moiraine’s eyes glow. Then her back stiffened, her own anger rising, but before she could say a word, the Aes Sedai spoke coldly.

It's incredible that Moiraine spent years being trained to modulate her emotions, first in the crazy political schemes of Cairhien and then by the White Tower itself, and Nynaeve gets her to be openly angry in just two weeks! She could make anyone break.

And that's a wrap on another short chapter. See ya next time for another Perrin POV!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #nynaeve al'meara #lan al'mandragoran #moiraine damodred

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casspurrjoybell-29 · 6 months

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Healing Ties - Chapter 25

*Warning: Adult Content*

Fanner hadn't known what to do with himself after Yore had left but he'd needed to do something, to be moving and have somewhere to focus his worried mind, so he'd started cleaning the small cabin.

It hadn't been very dirty to begin with but there was dust between the books on a shelf that took up most of one wall and a little fur here and there.

As soon as he heard the door opening, Fanner sat back down on the bed.

He wasn't sure if he was trying to conceal what he'd been up to or if he had simply acted out of some deeply ingrained need to make himself lower in Yore's presence.

Like kneeling, only more covert.

Yore sat down next to him.

"My mother said you could stay while we figure all of this out."

Fanner let out a breath of relief.

"Thank you."

"Hopefully it won't need to be for long because I really do think you belong with your own family... with Danya... but I don't want to rush things and have someone get hurt as a result. Your worries aren't unreasonable."

"I'm sorry. I always seem to end up being a burden. Or a hazard, lately."

"That's funny. Danya always described you as a good friend. He never once said anything that suggested he thought of you as a burden."

Fanner dropped his head.

"He probably hates me now. Or he will, when he finds out what almost happened."

"It was an accident."

"One involving his child. I wouldn't blame him if he wants nothing to do with me ever again."

"Do you really think that's how he'll respond to this, or are you just projecting your own feelings onto him?"

Fanner felt his face crumple and rubbed the heel of his palm against his dampening eyes.

"I just want to be good."

"I know Fanner but that's not what life is when you're not a slave. That can be hard but it can be a good thing because you're not bad either. You just are. We're all imperfect and that's okay. We just do our best and when we make mistakes, we forgive one another."

Fanner nodded but it didn't bring him any comfort because he wasn't doing his best.

Far from it.

Yore was being so kind and going out of his way to help Fanner and Fanner fully intended to let him continue to suffer just because he was too scared to trust anyone.

In a sense, Yore's kindness and patience only made him more fearful.

How much would it hurt to find out the limits of that, to learn at what point Yore was willing to compromise his own values?

"Listen, how about I go and talk to Danya for you and then, if he wants to, he can come back here with me and talk to you? I don't think he'll blame you but it might be better for both of you if he has some time to process what happened before he's expected to respond."

Relief flooded through Fanner and he nodded.

"Yes, please. I know I should have told him immediately but..."

"You don't have to be perfect, Fanner."

Fanner let out a shaky laugh.

"Well, that's a relief. I'm a long way from that."

"Hmm," Yore said. "There's something else I should tell you, if you're going to be staying here."

Fanner felt his breathing constrict and speed up. Surprises were rarely good.

"Yes?"

"This is the last thing I haven't told you. Or, well... the last relevant thing. I didn't tell you because I thought it would complicate things and make you more nervous but you'll find out soon enough and it should be from me."

"Okay," Fanner said in a small, uncertain voice.

"You know my mother is the leader here, so it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that I'm her heir."

"Oh. I wasn't sure how... how that worked but I did think you might at least be, um... more important? Because of... because of being the leader's son."

Yore nodded, as patient and unconcerned by Fanner stumbling over his words as ever.

"It's a minor thing and a title I'm never likely to inherit. One I hope I won't, actually because it would mean my mother didn't outlive her own. In our culture, regional leadership is inherited by the first born grandchild of the current leader. Which is me."

"Oh," Fanner said. "So... so you're very important?"

"I don't see myself as more important than anyone else. I'm just very busy and I have a lot of responsibilities."

"I should be calling you sir, shouldn't I... sir?"

"You can if it makes you more comfortable but it's not a part of werewolf culture and nobody would expect you to. I certainly don't."

Fanner squeezed his eyes shut and mentally scolded himself.

"Sorry. You already told me that, didn't you?"

"I think so but I'm not surprised you'd forget some minor detail of our culture that I mentioned offhand after the week you've had. Again, Fanner, you don't have to be perfect."

"I know but... is there something I can do for you? Can I clean or... I don't know. I can't do many things. I know I'm not very useful but I've been so much trouble."

"Hmm." Yore tilted his head from side to side as he contemplated.

"See, this is difficult and one of the reasons I think you're better off with Danya because I'm not sure what the best way to handle this is. Would putting you to work and making you feel useful be good for you or would it just feed into the idea that you must be useful?"

"Well..." Fanner hesitated and then shrugged.

"No. What do you think?"

"At... at Milaine House, they punished us by putting us in a room alone. It wasn't a dungeon or anything, it was just a room and... and they fed us and everything but any of the other boys would start to get out of balance after a while. That was the punishment. I always stay balanced but I do get bored. That was why I hated it. There was nothing to do. So..."

Fanner shrugged again.

"Ah, yeah. That was what I hated most when I was sick. The boredom. Early on, my condition was so bad that I couldn't even read. Danya was kind enough to sit at my bedside and read to me for hours even though I kept falling asleep."

"We used to take turns reading to one another at night... Danya, Duran and I. If I'm honest, I had a hard time focusing on the words and following the stories but I liked going to sleep to the sound of one of their voices. It made me feel safe."

Yore offered Fanner a gentle smile.

"It was comforting to have him there. Well, more than a comfort. He's the only reason I can still see and hear halfway decently."

"He... I'm sorry, what?"

"Ah, I guess you haven't had that conversation yet. Well, it's not any kind of secret anymore, I suppose. He has a minor healing ability. He couldn't do much and he can't do anything to help me now that I'm healed but he managed to save most of my hearing and vision. I'll always be grateful to him for that."

"Oh," Fanner whispered.

"He never said anything about that to me."

"Well, you had your own secret magic too, didn't you? I think it was just so thoroughly engrained in both of you to hide any differences that you couldn't bring yourselves to trust anyone, even one another."

Fanner nodded.

That was how he'd felt.

So Danya had inherited their mother's healing ability.

Mr Burrows had never been sure but he had realised when Danya was just a baby that it didn't really matter.

He'd done more research by then and he'd found out that without energy shaping a healer just couldn't wield enough power to do much.

Not even with the might of a Soldier bred into them.

But Danya had still found a way to make what he could do count.

To save a life, in a way.

And Fanner... Fanner had killed someone, had almost killed a second.

In the end, Danya had become a far better healer than he was.

"So, um. Are there any jobs I can do while you're out?" Fanner asked.

"Sorry, I can't remember if we ever resolved that conversational thread."

Yore smiled again but it was tight around the edges, searching.

He shook his head.

"I don't have anything that needs to be done but I'm sure if you ask around someone will have something."

"I can go outside?"

"Of course. You're not a prisoner. Try not to wander off too far but if you do just stay put and shout and I'm sure someone will find you soon enough. It's safe enough around here and werewolves have excellent hearing."

Fanner nodded.

"Thank you. Can you... can you tell Danya that I'm sorry? For what happened with Jasper, for not telling him, for running off. I'm sorry."

"I'll tell him," Yore promised.

"I should head out now. I have other things I need to get to after this. If you're hungry, just find someone outside to ask and I'm sure they'll get something for you."

"Thank you. Can I..." Fanner stopped and shook his head.

He needed to learn to think things through before he started speaking.

"No. What were you going to say?"

"It's silly and probably rude."

Yore nodded encouragingly, unconcerned.

"Well... if you're going on your own, I assume you'll... you'll turn into the wolf again. I just wanted to ask if... if maybe I could see? But... but maybe that's impolite to ask or weird or..."

"It's fine," Yore said. "If you stay here for even a day or two, you'll see so many wolves you'll be sick of us but I'm not surprised you're curious. Just, uh... I need to take my clothes off first, okay?"

"Oh, yes. I... I'll look away."

Yore pulled his shirt off over his head.

"I don't mind either way. I just didn't want to scare you."

Fanner shook his head.

He'd been given permission to look,and he wanted to but he dropped his gaze anyway.

"You seemed scary at first. Strong and so big. And human, I'd thought. But now... I can't be scared of you. There's no malice in you."

Fanner heard Yore's pants hit the ground and then Yore's breathing grew heavy and laboured as his bones popped and cracked.

Fanner had no idea what shifting was like for a typical werewolf but it sounded like a painful process for Yore.

The sounds stopped and a furry nose brushed against Fanner's arm.

Meeting the intensity of the huge wolf's gaze made Fanner's heart speed up but he wasn't scared.

Not really.

"You're beautiful," Fanner informed him, brushing a tentative hand over one of Yore's furry ears.

He thought Yore was beautiful when he was in human form too but saying it then would have felt different.

Yore ducked his head and shut his eyes, letting Fanner pet his ears.

"I wish..." Fanner started to say, then shut his eyes and shook his head.

He was glad Yore couldn't speak right now, couldn't prompt him to continue.

Fanner had been about to say that he wished he could belong to Yore and he doubted that would go down well.

Besides, that just wasn't the world he lived in anymore.

The solution to all of his problems couldn't just be to become someone else's property so that it was their job to take care of him.

Fanner leant forward, wrapping his arms around Yore's thick neck and embracing him firmly.

He took a deep breath in, let it out slowly and let go.

"I'll open the door for you."

Yore followed Fanner to the door but his amber eyes were fixed on Fanner's face, watching him curiously.

Perhaps the hug had been too much.

Yore butted the top of his head against Fanner's hip in passing, turned to look at him one last time, then dashed off towards the tree line.

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bts-weverse-trans · 3 years

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201127 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - Jungkook

Jung Kook: “I hope this feeling never fades” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.27

I had a chance to interview BTS before, when they debuted. During that interview, Jung Kook had one small habit; when I met him again a while later, he had corrected it. He makes a conscious effort to change himself. And after seven years, I met Jung Kook again.

You directed the music video for “Life Goes On,” BE’s title song. Jung Kook: I was really eager to direct the music video from the outset. My plan was to organize the synopsis, discuss it with the music video director I was working with, shoot and edit them, but we were short on time. So I worked on it while sharing ideas with the director. Originally there were a lot of scenes with lip synching in them, but we took some of them out and put in more scenes that conveyed the members’ emotions better. It wasn’t easy to combine scenes, but I think now I know more about how much of everything is needed when shooting a music video.

You had shot the Golden Closet Films and uploaded them to the BTS YouTube channel, and now you shot a music video. Jung Kook: Once we were on location, we had directions for everything we needed to shoot prepared in advance, so I took candid shots of the members here and there with a camera during the shoot. We were filming in a beautiful place so when they asked me to take pictures of them as they wanted to be presented, I did.

What kind of pictures did you take of yourself? Jung Kook: I was just, in them. (laughs) I’m not in the shot for the Golden Closet Films either. I kind of take a back seat. The director had to shoot my parts for the music video, since I couldn’t film myself, so I relaxed a bit. I tried to make the other members look really good when I recorded them. Since this was a BTS music video and not my own, I wanted to show what was happening with every member and the team, not just one individual’s thoughts. Each person who watches the video might feel different, but I wanted to show that we feel what other people feel, that we’re in the same situation.

You get your picture taken a lot, but you don’t pay much attention to the ones you’re in. Jung Kook: I never really liked having my picture taken. (laughs) And I’m usually with the others when we’re working, obviously, but it’s hard to take a camera and take selfies. So I take pictures and videos of the other members every chance I get.

Do you still find it difficult to have your picture taken? Jung Kook: I put my best face forward when it’s for something I have to do, like for photo books, but it’s still not easy. Videos are okay, though. And even though I’m not nervous at all when I sing in front of tens of thousands of people, if I have to sing or talk in front of a small group, I get super nervous. I never feel that way on stage, but maybe I have a hard time doing things that are a little bit awkward for me.

It seems like you draw a distinction between work you enjoy and work you find difficult. Jung Kook: Work related to music, like recording, composing, writing lyrics, filming music videos and things like that, are all fine. But anything outside of that is probably a challenge for me.

On BE, you each explained your feelings about work in the song “Dis-ease.” You must have experienced a cycle of enjoyable and difficult work over seven years, so how did you get through the hard times? Jung Kook: I actually understand my own problems well, so most of the time it’s okay. I can figure things out one at a time through experience instead of just looking for answers. I’m always growing and my personality changes, depending on my environment. I think I’ve learned to do things I used to find difficult by experiencing it little by little.

Speaking of growth, “Skit” was very memorable. You recorded it the day after “Dynamite” reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and you, who talked about what you did before you became trainees in “Skit” in your debut album,talked about being first place on the Billboard Hot 100 this time around. Jung Kook: When I was a trainee, I saw the older members rapping and thought, “Wow, they’re so cool!” But now, after having spent everyday together, I’ve forgotten about all that. (laughs) Sometimes I see the lyrics they wrote, see them dancing and hearing the things they say on stage, and think, “Oh, right. That is the kind of person they are. They’re a lot different now.” You know how you don’t feel it when you live with your family, but if you can’t see them for a long time, you miss them. You might even cry. We’re a real family. Like, legit! (laughs)

Your “legit family” (laughs) each put their own songs on BE and came up with units spontaneously. What was it like making the album that way? Jung Kook: We talked with the company over the outline of the album and organized our ideas together. That was our process for making songs. Then we’d listen to them together, and if we thought they weren’t great, we’d go back and work on them some more. The members would get together and say, “Hey, how about so and so do a unit song this time?” or, “What should it be about?” and share a lot of ideas that way.

How did the others respond to your song, “Stay”? Jung Kook: That song was originally meant to be on my mixtape. We planned to put a different song on the album, but after V heard it, he said, “This song that Jung Kook wrote is really good,” and then the other members all listened, said it was better than the other one, and somehow (laughs) “Stay” made it into the album. The message for the other song was also, “Even though we’re far apart, stay just where you are.” I wrote my song with the same theme so I loved that it was included in BE. At first, I wanted to talk about how we’re always together, using the English word “wherever.” I wanted to express how we’re always together no matter where we are, but Namjoon heard that and said “Stay” might be better. I liked his suggestion, so I changed it. He really helped me to organize my thoughts, since I’m not always good at writing everything I want to express.

One might go as far as to say the lyrics sound heartbreaking, but it’s arranged in EDM. Jung Kook: We imagined we were performing for the fans while we made it, jumping up and down with them.

It sounds like you really miss your fans. Jung Kook: This album really hit us in a different way, with this situation being what it is. Because the world is struggling with COVID-19, we have to keep our heads up and convey our messages to our fans.

What can your fans expect from you when you finally meet again? Jung Kook: There’s nothing specific, but when I watched our old performances, my facial expressions were awkward and my dance moves weren’t always perfect. I keep working to improve myself, so I hope when the fans see me, they think my performance is amazing and that my aura fills the stage.

Are you happy with how you look in your latest work? Jung Kook: I’m not 100% satisfied, no. When we did performances for “Dynamite” recently I kept seeing my imperfections.

Your acting in the intro to your “Dynamite” performance was really impressive. Even in COVID-19 times, you captured a feeling of liveliness and being cool, as though to explain what the song is all about. Jung Kook: Actually, on the first day of filming the music video, I was supposed to film my parts first, but I was so bad that it had to be pushed to the end of the shoot. So,I was a bit more relaxed when the camera rolled.

So that’s what you get when you’re relaxed! (laughs) Jung Kook: Yes, I relaxed, and something went “pop!” and “boom!” inside me, and then I did it however I wanted. (laughs)

It’s fascinating how someone who performs the way you do during stadium tours can feel nervous while filming and yet still do so well in it. Jung Kook: I can be a shy person. When people used to ask me to sing, I couldn’t always do it—like in front of adults or teachers. And I’m still a bit like that. If I start thinking, “Oh, I can’t do this,” then I really end up not being able to do it. Even when I could have done well.

Why do you think that is? Jung Kook: I feel the same way about my dancing and my singing, and I can’t compose a really amazing melody either. I feel like I’m always somewhere in the middle. But then I also think I have my own colors, so I like to quietly, slowly open up to people, and let them know what kind of person I am. Yeah, something like that. (laughs)

But, when you review your songs and performances objectively, you see all of your changes, don’t you? Jung Kook: There’s a lot of change. My voice has changed a lot; I grew taller and my frame and facial structure have changed, too. I could tell how awkward I looked at the beginning, but after a while, I think, “My gestures look better now, but I feel like my dance is too rigid.” And again after a while, “Now my dance is fine and my gestures are good, but I’m making awkward facial expressions.” And later, I say, “Now I got the facial expressions down, but, hmm, there’s no killer move.” (laughs) That’s how I slowly changed. And then my actions, thoughts, dreams, goals, what I value, what I want to do—all these things will change depending on the situation.

You had some changes in BE, too. Throughout “Life Goes On,” you lightly carry your voice and tone throughout the whole song, like they’re flowing. Jung Kook: Right. I think that’s very important. My general feeling was my voice should be woven into the song, rather than bringing out my individual voice. The lyrics say the world stopped, but I can’t keep on being sad, and life continues and flows on. I wanted to mix a little bit of my own colors into that complex, subtle sadness. I listened to how the other members recorded their parts for the song, and I sang while thinking about how I could do it in a way that it would all blend together well. I kept changing my voice exploring how to make it sound better, cleaner. I kept trying new things while I was recording, performing, and practicing.

When you look back after all that change, don’t you feel like you accomplished a lot? Jung Kook: I don’t really pay attention to things that have already happened. I think more about what it is I need right now, so I rarely think, “I got a lot better from how I used to be,” or, “I did a good job.”

You sound insatiable, in a good way. Jung Kook: Yes. This is how I want to keep living, and I hope this feeling never fades.

You’ve found immense success with BTS. What makes you want to keep doing more and keep improving yourself? Jung Kook: I want to show people who I am: how I talk, how I act, how I sing, and so on. And after that, I want to be acknowledged for doing what I like to do, and for people to see what an amazing guy I am. I want to do these things step by step. I want to be appreciated as Jung Kook, as the real me.

What do you think is the source of that energy—the energy to keep proving yourself, even though you’ve already achieved so much with BTS? Jung Kook: I think my heart’s telling me to. BTS was able to climb this high thanks to the group members, the company and our fans. But there’s always the question of whether I could receive that kind of recognition by myself, so I have this feeling of wanting to throw myself at some challenge alone. There’s a lot I want to do, and a lot I want to achieve.

By gradually improving yourself, what kind of person would you ideally want to become? Jung Kook: A person who’s crazy awesome in their field. (laughs) Those kinds of people look cool even when they do something different. I still have a long way to go. I feel like I could be more captivating and draw more out of people by improving any number of things, by trying hard to be confident about my singing, or the way I dance and perform. BTS is way more important and meaningful to me than I am to myself, so I’m not saying I want to do anything alone. But I hope I get to the point where I can perform alone for three or four hours in a venue full of people.

It’s clear that your job, music, is very important to you. Jung Kook: I must never let it go. That’s what I always think. I have to keep it close to me, even if I get bored, or I don’t want to hear it, or it feels like a hassle. I want to keep on making music. It may be a long ways down the road, but I want to prove myself with my music.

You said before that your MBTI is ISFP, so I looked it up. Obviously, MBTI can’t sum up a person perfectly, but it says ISFPs tend to be “curious artists.” Your answer reminds me of that. Jung Kook: That sounds about right. I looked up the personality traits for ISFP too, and it was interesting. (laughs)

Maybe that’s the reason you set your goals so high. You seem like you have high standards and want to keep growing. Jung Kook: It’s like a foggy mountain top. (laughs) I can’t even see it yet.

You’ve been climbing for seven years, staying curious. Is there anything you want to say to the people who have been watching you all this time? Jung Kook: Umm … Well, there are seven of us, and the seven of us keep running ahead. So it’s possible we could get tired, one by one, and drop out, right? But if more people join us, one by one, and run with us, we can support each other and pull each other up if someone falls down. That’s kind of how I feel. There are people who supported us from the beginning who have been watching us the whole time since, and because of them our follower count keeps going up, and they all keep us on track. So the only thing I can say is—thank you. We were nothing special, really (laughs) but they keep on liking us and supporting us, and the best way we can repay them is to give them our all through our music and our performances. They push me to work hard, even on things I find difficult. (laughs) I’m eternally grateful.

Just like in the last line of “Stay.” Jung Kook: “We are together.”

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #jungkook #weverse #weverse magazine #be album #comeback interview #201127 #2020

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reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

here comes the sun (spencer reid/reader)

Title: here comes the sun Request: no Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader Category: SMUT (w/ some fluff) Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (public sex, exibitionist kink, thigh riding, penitrative sex, unprotected sex, groping. little bit of oral (fem)) allusions and talks about sex, overall teasing, im not sure what else to tag Word Count: 4,011 Summary: Spencer takes Reader to the beach to take advantage of the sun. A/N: s/o to @sunlight-moonrise for beta and editing this for me! i appreciate it! this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins kink challenge for Actirasty (which is arousal to the sun's rays). i really love this piece and hope you enjoy it! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

I’ve learned a lot of things since I started dating Spencer Reid. That was one thing I loved about our relationship. There was always something to learn, and I never failed to be surprised. The things he’s taught me were long enough to be a novel instead of a list. I’d forever be grateful that he was so knowledgeable about things no one else knew.

He’s even taught me things I didn’t know about myself. Like how I loved strawberry pancakes. Or how I enjoyed it when he rubbed my head while we watched movies. Or, lastly, how much I loved being in the sun. I know that sounds like a totally normal thing. But it wasn’t a normal thing when it came to us. Er, well, when it came to me.

I remember when we were on a walk together one time, a few months after we began dating, the sun was out, shining across the sidewalk and all the buildings. My skin felt so, so good. Our walk was unfortunately cut short as Spencer brought me back to his apartment. Needless to say, I learned a lot about myself that day.

“Actirasty…” Spencer whispered as his fingers traced up and down my sides. The sun’s golden rays shone through the window and curtains. The room was just slightly illuminated by the rays. I nearly had to beg him to keep the curtains open.

“What’s that?” I asked as I pressed my head to my arms. Spencer breathed out a laugh as he dragged his hand back down my arm to grab my hand.

“Arousal to the sun’s rays,” he mused as he lifted our hands into the air. I looked at how they looked in the golden rays. My skin grew tingly as the warmth went over my skin.

“Sounds… Amazing,” I breathlessly whispered as I squeezed his hand. Spencer hummed before pressing his lips to my shoulder. “A sun kink…” I admired the way the golden rays colored Spencer’s skin.

“That’s another way of putting it,” he laughed before pressing his lips to my knuckles. I rolled so I was lying on my back. Spencer looked down at me, a small knowing smirk on his lips. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, I think you can…” I pulled him closer to me, even though he was already touching me. Spencer laughed again before moving so he was hovering over me. My legs fell open to allow him to kneel between them. “So perfect,” I whispered as I lifted a hand to his face. The sun shone across his face, and body, illuminating him and all his perfect imperfections.

Actirasty: Arousal to the sun’s rays.

It wasn’t just a sexual thing either. I genuinely loved the way the sun felt against my skin. That was my favorite thing I learned about myself. Spencer knew that too. He knew what times the sun would be setting, giving me the perfect time to see the rays shoot across the sky. I never thought it was weird. I just thought it was a me thing. Everyone has their own thing. This is just my thing.

Spencer had been gone for a few weeks, and when he returned home, we decided to go on a mini vacation. Although we needed to stay close to DC, just in case he got called in. So we rented a really nice beach house at Sandy Point Beach.

We planned to stay for 4 days. On the 2nd day, we planned to have a picnic on the beach. It was very nice out. The sun was shining, the breeze was warm, and the tide was low. Thank God we were staying on private property and in a private area because otherwise I’d hate all the intentions Spencer had. The picnic under the sun was his idea. Traitorous man...

While I had packed lunch, Spencer got a blanket and sunscreen. Once we were both wearing appropriate clothing and ready to go, we walked out the backdoor and right to the sandy beaches.

To say I enjoyed the walk alone is an understatement. The sand was so, so warm beneath my toes and the heat of the sun felt so good on my skin.

“You let me know when we need to go in,” Spencer whispered as we put out our blanket. I looked up, adjusting my sunhat to get a better view of him.

“Yeah, yeah, I should be okay,” I mumbled as I sat down. I pulled the freezer bag into my lap and pulled it open, bringing out the sandwiches for both of us. Spencer looked down at me with a raised brow before sitting down beside me.

“Okay, I… Just letting you know.” He smiled before taking a bite from his sandwich. I looked over at him and smiled.

We ate our food silently, enjoying our company and the scenery. Of course we had our silly little comments which would make for conversation. But once we finished eating, Spencer pulled out a book and I got comfortable.

“It’s not weird, is it?” I asked as I laid across Spencer’s lap. He hummed as his fingers began getting tangled in my hair. His other hand was holding a book and he mindlessly read it.

“What would that be, Sunshine?” He asked as he rested his arm across my chest. I hummed happily at the nickname he gave me. One of my hands went up to hold his arm, while I lifted the other into the air. The sun shone and illuminated my hand.

“That… That I get turned on by something so innocent as the sun and its rays?" I whispered. When he didn't answer at first, I carefully tugged on his book to get his attention back on me. "Did you even hear me?"

"No, it's not weird. In fact, it isn't even the weirdest thing you could do." He looked down at me before moving his hand to rest on my forehead. I looked up at him with a small smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Well, when you’re deep in thought, sometimes you poke your cheek or forehead. No pattern or anything, you just tap your face."

"I do not!" I shouted as I sat up. Spencer looked at me with an amused smile and shrugged.

“I’ll take a picture next time you do it.” Spencer smiled at me. I stared at him and shook my head. “It’s cute!”

“You’re just saying that,” I hummed as I moved to straddle his legs. Spencer laughed as he finally put his book down and put his attention on me. Both his hands cupped my face as he looked at me. “You think everything I do is cute,” I whispered as I shifted closer to him.

“You’re right about that.” Spencer lifted his head to press his lips to mine. I smiled and nodded. His hands dropped from my face, to rest momentarily on my arms, before moving to my hips.

“You took us to the beach on purpose,” I pointed out as I rested my hands on his face. A smug smile grew across his lips as he nodded.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he laughed before pressing his lips to mine again. “Besides, I almost took us camping. But I don’t think we would’ve gotten this reaction.”

“Oh shut and keep kissing me,” I breathed out as I guided his lips back to mine. Spencer hummed happily as he pressed sloppy kisses from the corner of my mouth, along my jaw, and then down my neck. It was so hard to keep focus as he carefully dragged his tongue across my neck and shoulder. And that paired with the way the sun felt was so… intoxicating.

My head fell to my shoulder as I shifted to be over one of his legs. I took a deep breath as I lightly jerked my body over his thigh. Spencer dropped a hand between my legs, his fingers brushing along my inner thigh before pushing them past the fabric of my shorts. I gasped as he moved his fingers over my underwear. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were damp…

“You’re so wet… And we’ve barely done anything,” he whispered against my skin. I took a shaky breath and nodded. I moved my head slightly to get a better look at him. His eyes were blown. The tiny bit of hazel that was still visible glowed with the help of the sun. I had to pull my lips between my teeth to hold back the whimper.

“How quiet do you think you can be, Sunshine?” Spencer asked, his grip on my hips getting tighter. I looked at him with wide eyes before blinking slowly. A smile grew on his lips as he slowly started moving my hips again, this time adding a little bit of pressure. I licked my lips and nodded.

“You… You said this beach was private?” I whispered, slowly moving my hips against his thigh. A smile twitched onto his lips as he lifted his leg slightly into me. A slight whimper, maybe a groan, came from me as I looked at his face.

I almost didn’t hear what he said, mostly because I was getting distracted by the friction against my clit, thanks to the seam of my shorts rubbing against me. It just felt so freaking good.

“I would assume people still walk it,” he stated so nonchalantly it mildly concerned me. I wrinkled my nose as my hips started to grind down into his leg. “We might be safe today. Although, do remember there are neighbors.” He gestured towards the houses on either side of ours. I dropped my head and looked up at him through my eyelashes.

“You’re… Insane,” I muttered as he pressed me down more. Spencer looked pleased with how I was reacting. My back arching slightly as I pulled his head to my shoulder. Although, that lasted for all of 3 seconds before I pressed my head to his shoulder. I exhaled deeply as he started moving my hips faster. He let out a deep and breathy laugh as I whimpered against his shoulder.

“Do you want to stop?” Spencer whispered. My head snapped up and my eyes locked onto his. A small smirk grew on his lips. “I’ll take that as a no,” he chuckled lightly.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked at him. His eyes stayed on my face, clearly enjoying every way my face contorted as I kept grinding his thigh. My eyes fluttered shut and a familiar, yet welcomed, feeling grew in my belly.

Spencer pressed his lips to the side of my head as he continued to guide my hips back and forth over his thigh. His lips trailed across my face and down my neck, causing my breathing to stutter. At this point he was the one moving my hips, I was too focused on the feeling to move myself.

It was so hard to notice when he pulled a hand from my hip and brought it to my chest. His fingers carefully slipping under the collar of my shirt.

“Don’t… Don’t stop,” I whimpered into his shoulder. Spencer laughed softly as he kneaded the soft skin. Of course he knew exactly how I was feeling and how close I was. I mean, he knows me inside and out, so of course he’d know. He also knew how to get me over the edge. I almost couldn’t breathe the moment Spencer started pressing his lips just below my ear, lightly nibbling at the skin there.

I quickly buried my face into his shirt, trying to muffle the softest moans that fell from my lips. Spencer lifted his other hand away from my hip and rested it on my back. Soft words of praise came from him as I continued to move my hips at a faulty pace. It was a matter of seconds before I reached my high.

Once I did finish, my shoulders slouched and I was playing a game of catch up with my breathing. Spencer was pressing butterfly kisses over the side of my face while his hand ran up and down my back.

I was happy we were able to get through that without getting caught. I’m sure I’d die if that were the case. I just didn’t realize how badly I needed that.

But, alas, I wanted… No… I needed more.

After a moment, I lifted my face from Spencer’s shoulder and looked at him. He smiled softly before pressing his lips to mine. I only deepened the kiss the moment his lips touched mine.

If things were going to go any further, we needed to go inside.

“Can we go in? Please? We shouldn’t… We shouldn’t do this out here,” I whispered as I wrapped my arms back around his neck. Spencer looked at my face before he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Of course. Of course. I’ll come back for our stuff,” he strained momentarily before standing up. I wrapped my arms around his neck once he was finally on his feet. My legs locked around his waist to keep me in place. “Are you alright? Do we need to stop?”

“Stop!? No! I just don’t think we should continue outside,” I murmured into his neck. He laughed lightly and nodded. “Do you want us to stop?”

“You think I’m going to let you get off on my thigh on the beach, nearly risking getting caught, and not want us to continue?” Spencer laughed as we entered the house. I couldn’t hold back my chuckles and nodded. “I’ve never wanted to fuck you so badly before,” he half-whispered half-growled into my ear. My heart stopped and all the air escaped my lungs. “How does that sound?”

I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even bring my body to speak. So I just nodded rapidly as if he had asked me if I wanted ice cream. It sounded amazing, and I couldn’t get him to move any faster.

Spencer grasped my hand and helped me to my feet. Once we both had caught our balance, we raced back inside right to the bedroom. I tossed myself onto the bed as he threw the curtains open. I fought to pull my shirt off as he came back over to the bed. A deep sigh of relief fell from my mouth once my shirt was off my body.

“Come back here,” I whined as I lifted my hands up to him. Spencer looked down at me from where he stood at the foot of the bed. He grabbed both my ankles and dragged me down to meet him. I couldn’t stop the squealing giggles that fell from my mouth.

“How about you come to me,” he whispered as he reached a hand out to hold my face. I smiled as I nuzzled my face into his hand more. He dragged his hands down my body, following the natural curves of my body, before resting at my shorts. My legs fell open as he knelt on the bed in the open space.

“I think I can do that,” I laughed as I rested my hands around his wrists. Spencer smiled at me, I could only imagine he was calling me a ‘smart ass’ in his thoughts. “Already did on the beach,” I muttered. Spencer rolled his eyes.

“You think you can do it again?” he asked as his thumbs hooked through my belt loops. I bit my lips together before nodding excitedly. Spencer carefully bent over, his lips meeting mine in a delicate kiss.

“Again, and again,” I giggled against his lips. Spencer laughed as he looked down at me.

“Be careful what you wish for, Sunshine,” he whispered as he began pulling my shorts off. “Because you might just get it.” He moved away from me, pulling my shorts off in one easy movement. I took a deep breath as he looked down at me. His eyes hungrily grazed over my body, lingering between my legs momentarily, before going back to my face.

Spencer lifted one of my legs before pressing his lips to my ankle, and then slowly down my leg, kissing between each leg. I took a deep breath as he got closer to my cunt. He gently dragged his tongue across the soft skin of my thigh. I looked down at him, watching as his eyes flicked up to look at me. A tiny smile grew across his lips when his eyes locked with mine.

“Stop teasing me,” I warned as I lifted a hand to his hair. He hummed softly before resting his head against my inner thigh.

“But I like to,” Spencer whispered, his breath fanning out across me. A shiver shot through my body, causing my fingers to tighten in his hair. “Playing with you, toying and testing,” he mused before licking his lips. He reminded me of a dog, looking at a steak. The way he licked his lips caused me to let out a deep sigh. “Just like how I did outside.” He smirked before flicking his tongue at my cunt.

The softest moan fell from my lips, and my head fell back into the mattress beneath me. Spencer hummed out a laugh before his lips wrapped around my clit. My lungs quickly expanded, trying to hold as much air as possible.

“Don’t stop,” I begged the moment he started licking and sucking.

The way the sun shone through the windows and across Spencer’s back made me gasp. The golden rays illuminated the room, nothing else lighting it up except the sun. It filled my chest and body with a certain exhilaration.

“Spen-God,” I whined, my legs closing around his head. Spencer looked up at me, a certain darkness in his eyes as he continued licking. At first, they were soft, little kitten licks. But they grew more rapidly the more he went. It was like he couldn’t get enough. Or he was worried that I’d melt away like ice cream. Which, I wasn’t. I was the furthest thing from ice cream. Hot and bothered, thanks to him.

Being the little sneak that he was, Spencer gently pressed two fingers into me, causing a moan to come from the pit of my stomach. I could feel a smile grow over Spencer’s lips as he curled and moved his fingers in and out of me.

Just like outside, the feeling over the sun mixed with Spencer’s touch brought me over the edge. My fingers tightened so hard in his hair, I was worried they would be forever knotted in his locks.

Spencer laughed against me, moving a hand to my hands. Still a little sensitive from that last orgasm, a soft whine came from me because of his laughter.

“You’re going to have to let me go, Sunshine,” Spencer whispered as he pulled on my hands. I closed my eyes as my legs fell away from him and I pulled my hands from his head. He quickly crawled up the bed, keeping himself hovering above me. “You taste so sweet. I love it so much,” he mused before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed as I tasted the exact sweetness he was talking about.

“Again,” I breathlessly whispered as I looked up at him. I brought my hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. Spencer laughed before kissing me, again. “Please, god, I need you so bad,” I whimpered into his mouth.

“I like this side of you,” he laughed before moving away from me."I watched as he stood up and slowly peeled his shirt. Impatient with his teasing pace, I stood and moved towards him, helping him get rid of the annoying piece of clothing. Once it was finally off, I chucked it to the ground, leaving me fully naked. "So insatiable," he muttered as he started to remove his pants, much quicker thankfully.

"You're the one who took me to the beach." I glared as I walked back towards the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling him closer to me."

“You love it,” he whispered as he stroked himself a few times. I smiled brightly before nodding.

“Of course I do,” I replied, lifting my hips slightly. I watched as he carefully lined himself up with my entrance. “Much better than camping,” I laughed.

“Yeah, I’d take going to the beach over that any day.” Spencer smiled at me. “Ready?”

“Always,” I let out a dreamy sigh as I looked at him. He lifted up a hand, offering it to me to hold. I nodded as I grasped it. Then, once we were holding hands, he gently pushed into me. He only moved inch by inch, allowing me to breathe and get used to him again. It’d been a while since we’d last had sex. I mean, he was gone for several weeks for work. That was the whole reason why we went on a small vacation. I missed this.

“I think we should always come here,” Spencer laughed as he came back down to kiss me. I hummed happily and nodded, silently agreeing. “Not just for the house and the getaway…” He breathed into my mouth. I looked up at him, feeling a smile grow across my lips.

“Every weekend…” I took a deep breath as he began rhythmically moving his hip.

“You wish.” It was his turn to laugh. I smiled at him, watching as he knelt away from me. A small laugh, that turned into a moan, came from me.

I ran my hands up my body before resting comfortably on my breasts. Spencer smiled as he looked down at me. I bit down on my lips as he picked up the places of his hips.

“I wish for a lot of things…” I whispered. He dropped his hand to my hips, one hand resting on the outside while the other moved to between my legs. I took a deep breath, my back arching just right.

“I think… I understand… Why the sun… Turns you on…” Spencer spoke between thrusts. I looked up at him, taking in how half the sun illuminated him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… You look amazing in the sun’s rays.” He reached down to hold my face. I stared up at him, watching as his eyes trailed up and down my body, lingering on my breasts for a brief moment.

“‘M so close…” I choked out, trying to keep myself quiet. Spencer came back down to my face, his lips crushing against mine, while his other hand ran up and down my side. His movements got harder, and I couldn’t keep myself quiet any longer. “God! Please! Don’t stop!” I finally shouted.

I could pinpoint the exact second my release came. It was when Spencer started moaning in my ears. My arms and legs locked around his body, pulling him closer to mine. My muscles tightened around him as waves of pleasure came rolling through me. And with a few more faulty thrusts into me, a familiar warmth spread throughout my body, coating my walls with his essence.

Spencer’s body fell on top of mine, his arms simply too weak to hold himself up any longer. I didn’t complain though. I loved the extra weight and feeling after something so invigorating as sex.

“I really hope no one walked by or heard us,” I laughed into his shoulder. Spencer returned the laughter.

“We’re in the privacy of our rented home. I don’t care.” He lifted a hand and waved the window off.

The sun was starting to set, the sky illuminated in a pretty pink and orange color. The rays shot across the sky and I couldn’t hold back the softest moan at the sight.

“Again? Already?” Spencer asked as he pushed himself up to look at me. I looked at him and laughed.

“No, not again… Even though I’d love to… It’s just really pretty.” I gestured towards the window. Spencer smiled and nodded.

“Yeah it is,” he stated as he looked back at me. “Isn’t it?”

Part of me knew he wasn’t talking about the sun.

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds fan fic

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vidalinav · 3 years

Text

The one thing I hate about SJM’s POVs in ACOTAR

is that the narrator always seems to be completely biased to their own perspectives in a way that they seem to not understand at all what another character might be going through. Which is just UNREALISTIC.

Let me point out all the ways and explain:

None of the IC know that Mor seems to be uncomfortable with Azriel’s unrequited love and that she’s gay, though she frequents a gay bar/restaurant and she’s never shown any feelings towards Azriel and she even actively tries to sleep with other people when he seems to act more on his feelings or show them more fully. Like okay??

In Cassian’s POV, he says that he didn’t know Nesta was aware of how much self-hatred she had and that she didn’t want to exist. Like dude, she spent a year drinking her life away, distancing herself from everyone, and sleeping with randos when she previously had spent most of her adult life not sleeping with anyone and Cassian knew that she was a victim of s*xual a*sa*lt.

Rhysand who he himself has gone through what Nesta has gone through, didn’t know the extent of Nesta’s trauma??? And even after didn’t really care all that much?? To the point where he was constantly an ass and he threatened to kill her when she told Feyre she might die, even though he should have told her because well feminist rhys over here “you always have choices” didn’t give one to his equal.

Amren after constantly saying “reach out your hand” didn’t reach out her hand, nor show any empathy to Nesta, going as far as being more aggressive to this person who is literally suffering from PTSD and severe depression, and then sort of blaming her for letting it get that far, and then when Nesta apologized said this well to do speech about living with darkness inside of us but choosing hope, like it was that easy and as if she helped at all or even deserved that apology.

Mor, wasn’t that bad, comparatively to the rest, because she was barely in the book, but when she was you’re telling me that this girl also doesn’t understand what Nesta could be going through??? That she says that she belongs in the Court of Nightmares, for what reason??? For hurting her friends, which they admit they didn’t help all too much for a whole year because they thought giving her time would have been fine and who also show that they care about Nesta. Because I hate to tell y’all this, but offering to decorate a room is not helping out a person with severe depression. And this is a girl who was raised in the same environment as Mor, who suffered many of the same afflictions of unhappy childhoods and loss of autonomy. Mor who is used to helping women and s*xual a*sa*lt survivors and then doesn’t see that in Nesta????

Rhysand doesn’t seem to understand Azriel’s POV, and then he’s like well he never tells us anything. He’s a tough nut to crack. We know he’s a little bit... ehh how you say--messed up, but well we don’t see a major problem as long as he gets his rage out being our spymaster. But oh no, Elain, you can’t have her. You think you deserve her, even though critical thinking skills might have found him thinking oh hey this guy is probably envious of the happiness we have, he’s probably feeling lonely, rejected from the person he’s loved a long time, both of his brothers have mates now, maybe I should talk to him like a BROTHER and less like a high lord.

And then in Nesta’s POV, all of her healing comes at the expense of blaming herself. Like I understand taking accountability and she needed to grow and learn that she has definitely ruined a lot of her relationships and she’ll continue to do so if she keeps up this behavior, but you’re telling me that she doesn’t think anyone did her wrong??? You’re telling me that she feels she deserves all of this?? Even after she starts liking who she is, everyone was not at fault, it was only her fault??? Even after Cassian said what he said--being stuck with her???

You’re telling me that everyone thinks Elain is fine??? That she’s relatively at peace because she’s calm and gardening and pleasant??? Makes me laugh.

Like I just don’t understand. It’s to the point where I feel they characters are willfully ignorant OR that SJM thinks that POVs can’t read emotion in other people or connect dots. All POVs are biased, but NOT that biased. A real person talking to someone else will notice how tired a person looks, if they want to talk or not, by the grimaces, by the way they shorten their sentences, their body language, you can reach conclusions based on context. “It’s been a long day at work, I learned that this person has a new baby, this conversation looks to be weighing on them, I should probably cut this convo short, because I feel for them.” That sort of thing. Which is my biggest problem with this series is that I’m like fuck me, why Whhy WHYYY??? They don’t seem to even see each other, let alone understand each other, and if they can’t understand each other or know who they are, they are not considered family!!! The characters in this series make choices like they are blind to the people around them. That they exist only in their own head. Which again is not realistic, but also causes a lot of problems that I don’t feel would be fixable if you were not aware that they were problems. Like I can easily say, “hey maybe SJM did this on purpose because she’s leading up to something, to heal them in some way.” But all characters are like this--so it’s make me wonder if SJM knows that she’s doing it. Like we thought Feyre was a horribly biased character, but damn. Like I understand this imperfect character arc, but at this point are they imperfect or stupid?

Don’t get me wrong I love this series, but wow... it’s been three years for this next part, she’s written a thousand and one books, it should be better. Every single one of us has pointed out inconsistencies, and they’re not just small things, they’re big overarching writer mechanics and structure and plot and details. So I can hope that eventually it will lead to something, but after four books... I’m losing hope that the issues we’ve pointed out and not just this one are going to be resolved and not just glossed over like they didn’t happen at all.

It’s an adult book, my word. Make narratives more narratively complicated. (Especially if the plot is not the focus)

#acosf #nessian #anti sjm #i hate that but i'll use it i guess #nesta archeron #rhysand #feyre archeron #azriel #elain archeron #mor #amren #inner circle #acosf spoilers #acotar

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye V — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 9k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

The new routine of embedding her older brother into their lives again became somewhat casual in a fortnight. Though the presence of their ‘guest’ now created a significant rift between the new couple especially when it came to certain less than elegant activities. Not that they did not try of course.

One week into the modified living condition, Jungkook and Belle had been chatting at the bar which now mysteriously had an abnormally good stock of fruit juice compared to actual alcohol. A few instances where the drug lord would pull out a glass of cloudy apple juice creating some suspicious looks from his clients. Apparently Master Jeon was now going on a cleanse from alcohol for a while to prolong his rule over the empire.

The innocent conversation turned to absentminded touches, fingers intertwining and standing dangerously close together so Jungkook could smell her coconut shampoo. One peck turned to a deeper kiss and completely by mistake, Belle jumped on the counter with her now slightly favourite crime lord between her legs, his rough hand sneaking underneath her skirt and his lips nibbling on her neck.

Of course this was the perfect time for Taehyung to decide for a walk finding a criminal fooling around with his little sister while she giggled.

Belle practically flew off the counter almost twisting Jungkooks’ hand and simply put, the two decided to keep it more on the down low next time.

Another week passed and the cartel had been going through some brewing tension with the authorities after a new mayor was elected. Which meant Jungkook barely showed up in the bedroom to sleep and when he did come to the bedroom, it was to work more at the study table.

Belle on the other hand now sat in the designing level of Madame Saito with her large glasses, a red sweater dress to match the confusing mixture of cool and warm. Long hair tied up in a loose bun that lobbed to the side a little when she lowered her head to focus on the little details of the blue hydrangea pattern across white silk.

She approved Seokjins’ offer of becoming his designer for the Sangria House so they could conjoin the Spring Line with the angels’ attire. As much as it ignited a tiny hint of suspicion on the owners’ intentions, Saito advised that it was a powerful business decision. Being a designer of one of the biggest establishments in the city could boost her reputation as a sole businesswoman. Instead of just being Jeon Jungkooks’ fiancée or Saitos’ protégé.

Most of the Spring Line designs were already displayed on mannequins behind her, few of them approved for the runway while others still needed more detailing.

Her thumb already pricked a few times but she grew a good resistance for it at this point carefully creating gradients on the embroidered flowers. Belle quickly learned the importance of clothes in the Sangria House. Even though it was kind of ironic considering the type of establishment.

Angels wearing white fabric were meant to be the ones still in ‘training’, red meant available for entertainment both casual or carnal, lavender represented angels who were trained in more daring acts for entertainment especially ones that were erotic. Then there were the gold angels; extremely qualified in all kinds of entertainment but were already ‘taken’. They were married to someone but still had to entertain customers for a living income. If a customer wanted to spend more intimate time with this angel, it would take the price of a mansion which only one or two clients have ever really paid.

After hearing all this, Belle felt a little silly just calling it a brothel considering how much detail went into orchestrating the whole system down to their clothes.

“Belle!”

Her hand immediately stilled staring up at the figure in a vibrant yellow pantsuit walking towards the working table.

Saitos’ eyes flickered down to the sewing pattern, a smile creeping on her red lips. “I thought you said you weren’t good at embroidery.”

The younger female chuckled nervously poking the needle into the fabric. “Not as good as how you do it.”

“I was forced to sew since I was seven.” She laughed. “Don’t let my younger self being oppressed by toxic femininity stop you from believing you can’t do it now.” She joked, patting her shoulder lightly with her gaze focused on the pattern. “All you need to do is just cut out little loose threads.” Finger gently pointed towards the little threads poking out of the design. “Always make sure it’s smooth. Sometimes when a few parts are imperfect, you can add little extra pieces over top that match the shade of the embroidery design.”

Belle nodded, eyes following wherever Saitos’ finger moved.

Then the senior designer stopped herself. “Oh! Mrs. Jeon is waiting downstairs, she has some news about your engagement.” She straightened up, fixing her blazer before gesturing over to the stairs.

Her words took a moment to sink into her mind before she pulled the hair band out of her bun and tried to make it look presentable again. Glasses placed carefully on the table while the work in progress now supervised by Saito.

Almost rushing down the stairs, Belle came face to face with the woman who wore a body hugging lavender midi skirt and a matching blazer. A smile quickly stretched across her red lips as Boyoung held onto her hands excitedly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you during work but I got too excited.” She giggled, holding up her left hand to admire the ring wrapped around it as if she had never seen it before. “It’s about the wedding.”

Heart raced against her ribcages but Belle tried to keep her expressions calm. “What—what about the wedding?”

“The date, of course!” Boyoung laughed, swinging their arms again. “See we have been saving for Jungkooks’ wedding since his nineteenth birthday. Twenty one is the traditional age to marry in our family.”

Explained the constant suitors Jungkook had to tolerate. Something Belle could relate to. Her parents had been talking about her marriage since she was thirteen because it was a good way for them to gain money. Or to get rid of her. Either way she found herself having one big thing in common with the man. “That’s very nice of you.” Nice was not the proper word Belle wanted to use but Boyoung had proved to the nicest person she met in this new world. She was not going to ruin that safety.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Since we have more than enough money saved up for the event. I wanted to tell you that we could have the wedding in a month.”

Blood chilled in her whole body struggling to keep her smile up to such a point where it was just her lips curled up while her eyes widened a little. “A month?” She chuckled nervously.

“I know it seems a little quick…” Boyoung admitted while lowering her head for a split second.

Quick was one way to describe a thousand crates dropping right on top of you while you were just working on a pretty dress.

“But it’s good to keep up with tradition.” She nodded mostly to herself, quickly giving her a bright smile like she forced it out of her after a mental pep talk. “And you two already love for each other so it shouldn’t be too hard to fathom.”

Love.

That fucking word again. Everything just came crashing back to her as the ring felt like it was suffocating her finger until it fell off. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real… those three words swirled around in her mind as she watched the joyful smile adorn Jungkooks’ aunt. It was a game…a deal to protect her family and her own life.

Strange how the two were thinking about the same thing but one had a grey cloud and the other had sunshine.

“Of course.” Belle smiled again a little weakly but the older females’ excitement seemed to mask any suspicion. Admittedly, sparks of interest did fly between the fresh new pair but truthfully it never moved deeper than a sexual attraction. They stopped being rude to each other and grew quite successful in pretending to be a happy engaged couple. Behind closed doors, there were smiles, maybe a little flutter in her belly whenever she saw him but—love?

No.

Love was sacrificing her entire chance at a proper relationship with a happy marriage and children so she could protect Taehyung. What Belle and Jungkook had was not love itself but a consequence of loving someone far too much to lose them.

With that thought, her pounding heart hardened. This was all for the best. The deal is simple. Marry Jungkook and be the perfect wife while Taehyung is given all the resources to recover back to a better version of himself again. What was the point of worrying so much about marriage anyway? Her career showed so much potential, Belle probably would have ended up a single business woman like Saito.

To put it more accurately, this deal was perfect. No one pressured her about marriage, Taehyung was healing and her career moved smoothly.

“So we’ll do it at my mansion then, yes?”

Boyoungs’ voice breaking into the barrier of her thoughts pulled Belle back into reality and she instinctively gave the older another grin. “Yes…your mansion is beautiful, Mrs. Jeon.” She nodded. “It’s the—perfect place for a wedding.” Perfection seemed to be all she could gain at this point.

“You’ve made a desperate aunt very happy.” She joked, patting her cheek. “Now I’ve kept you away from work long enough, we’ll talk soon.”

Belle led the woman across the boutique to the exit where her car awaited, allowing the cool air to ease some of her slightly heated anxiety.

She stood politely in front of the vehicle watching Boyoung climb inside before the driver closed it gently. Though her attention flickered over to something moving on the other side of the street where the park was. Usually filled with children running around, people jogging but her focus directed more towards the bushes fencing the area.

For a quick moment a more sensible side assumed it may have been an animal of some sort merely rustling between the branches.

Though the side that was fully aware of the new gaze on her after the engagement knew better. Animals did not wear black coats neither did they hold cameras pointing right in her direction while trying to look inconspicuous in nature.

At some point Belle suspected the photographer saw her looking into the camera because she saw the figure rush to keep themselves hidden again.

Sighing, the girl gave one quick smile to Boyoung before the car drove away and she tried to fix her attention on her work again.

Coffee stained papers flipped and dropped either on the other side of the crowded table or on the floor. Phone rung at some corner constantly while not a single employee had a minute without running around somewhere leaving Namjoon s’ head spinning. On his right were a pile of cases he should be doing according to the captain who insisted that vandals and petty theft was more his specialty. Granted the man could not blame her considering his biggest undercover case went downhill with no leads whatsoever leaving him to be the runt of his precinct for the past year.

He kept a decent aura of respect however, no one really wanted to piss off someone who had been personally trained to cut off important parts in a body.

Taking a sip of his possible fifth cup of coffee, his pile of useless cases forgotten on the side while he stared at the recent pictures sent to him. A few years had already passed with this growing ambition towards finding out how to expose the mystery that was the Jeon Cartel. Apparently each associate took some kind of tight fucking oath which prevented anyone from uttering a single secret about them.

The infamous Jeon Jungkook was a master of words. The golden elite of their city. Contributed to around half of the buildings in the city and factories overseas. Donated near millions of dollars to medical and disaster care.

Namjoon had to admit he was good at what he did. That is until the first drug scandal. One of the factories that Jungkook owned was caught manufacturing cocaine and distributing it to Osaka and Hong Kong. Though quickly swept under the rug when the man had two hospitals built under the guise that it was Jungkooks’ personal apology to the city. His undercover mission which he worked on for months destroyed in two days.

Now the man was left with looking at any recent changes. Anything that so much as leaned the slightest towards suspicion caused his ears to prick up and his eyes peeled.

“You know Pornhub exists, right?” Yoongi spoke in his usual gruff tone, sipping on his espresso while watching over Namjoon s’ shoulder at the pictures he was looking at.

The younger male rolled his eyes continuing to observe the photos taken three days ago. A woman wearing a striking red dress conversing and smiling with the second most powerful lady in the city. “It’s Kim Belle.” Namjoon remembered the name on the newspaper article in front of him. “Seems Jeon Jungkook is getting engaged.” He sighed, brows furrowing slightly.

“Okay…” He nodded walking over to his desk right in front of Namjoon s’ desk. “And that’s our problem because…”

“Well it doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s marriage, it almost never makes sense.” Yoongi leaned back on his chair.

Namjoon moved in to try and keep his voice down since anyone who so much as heard him talk about Jungkook started writing out complaints to the captain. “But why now? He’s been an eligible bachelor for years and all of a sudden, an engagement?”

The older male tried to suppress rolling his eyes. “Probably an arranged marriage then.” He shrugged.

“To a fashion designer?” He winced. “What the hell is he going to gain by marrying a fashion designer?”

“Free suits for a life time?” Yoongi smirked but immediately sighed seeing the warning look on Namjoon s’ face. The man had clearly dedicated his entire livelihood to exposing Jungkook which was something he could never understand. He spent most of his days going undercover and being damn good at it too, exposing all kinds of rings. The Jeon Cartel, on the other hand was a hard ice wall to crack. “Look…you’ve been at this for a long time. At this point if you so much as mention Jungkook, the captains’ just going to let you go on the grounds of insanity.”

“But something isn’t right.” Namjoon emphasized desperately wanting anyone to see under that perfect young man façade Jungkook harbored. “You don’t just get engaged to some random girl, that’s social suicide.”

“Social suicide? This isn’t fucking high school.”

“You know what I mean.”

The two men stayed silent letting the ambient noise plunge through their personal atmosphere.

Yoongi mulled over his thoughts for a moment, watching Namjoon look down at the pictures with a defeated sigh. He understood the passion behind exposing someone who was doing a harmful thing under the guise of righteousness. So many powerful heads still needed to be exposed, unfortunately Jungkook was only a newer one. “Let me see the file.” He curled his fingers in and took the thick file onto his own desk when Namjoon handed it to him.

His gaze fixated on the picture of the woman, who looked around about Jungkooks’ age except with a softness to her as opposed to the other mans’ mischief. There were a couple of news articles that Namjoon collected with that same face plastered all over. A couple of them were positive while others were out to scandalize one way or another no matter how stupid it sounded. “So you’ve never seen her with him before?”

Namjoon shook his head. “Not until a little too recently. It’s like she just appeared out of thin air.”

Flipping through the photos, Yoongi came across one where she wore a brown-ish bodycon dress walking into an establishment. “This is a rehabilitation clinic.” His brows furrowed, interest now piqued a little too much for his own liking.

“You think she’s an addict?”

“Hard to tell. Could be anything.” He muttered, eyes on the picture as he took a sip of his now cooled down espresso. “Maybe she’s visiting.”

“There has to be something weird about this, right?” Namjoon gestured towards the file.

Crime lords taking in beautiful, young wives for no reason was not an uncommon trait but usually those leaders would have a reputation of that sort. Jungkook had been a bachelor from what they knew and rarely found himself in any kind of sex or romantic scandal. Something was going on but much like everything else with this man, it was hard to tell what exactly. “Okay don’t tell anyone I said this.” Yoongi almost whispered now leaning in. “But we have a possible drug bust…thanks to our new mayor, we’ve been getting orders left and right to fish out dens.” He stopped himself for a moment letting a trainee walk past them before speaking again. “The one we’re looking at tonight—few of us suspect that it could belong to Jeon.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat as his heart leaped right up to his throat. Finally those words were coming out of someone else’s mouth instead him saying the same thing like a broken record. More people were seeing the truth. “Where is it?”

Yoongi gave him a warning look now. “Joon…”

“Come on, I’m not gonna follow you.”

“Yeah but this is still a secret bust, alright? Even some of the seniors don’t know about it.” His eyes flickered over to the sides where the older officers were sipping coffee at their desks looking at their computer. About two of them actually reading cases while others watching porn. “The mayor wants a full clean-up.” Yoongi whispered again. “And I mean—full.”

“Meaning…” He pointed to his desk but referred to the whole precinct and Yoongi nodded.

“All our jobs are on the line.” He muttered. “Even the captain…but—this could help us be on the mayor’s good side since they’re trusting us already.”

A light hint of excitement tingled down his spine knowing there was a lead now. While Namjoon would have wanted to accompany the team, the older male had the right idea. The captain did not trust him in this mission. He needed to be subtle if he was ever going to feel the satisfaction of seeing Jeon Jungkook behind bars.

Golden rays peeked through the curtains as Belle walked to the vanity with nothing but a crème silk slip and a white robe over top.

The couple along with Taehyung were invited to the Sangria House to celebrate their new business partnership. Apparently the best angels would be readied for their entertainment in the night. Something Belle was not sure she was going to enjoy.

Either way it was always good to look as presentable as possible. The dress code stated that white, red, lavender or gold were not allowed in the establishment for obvious reasons Belle understood now. So with the thought in mind she opted for a deep green velvet dress, a slit for one of her thighs to peek through and one loose strap sleeve that hung off her shoulder smoothly.

The gorgeous dress lay neatly on the large ottoman in the center of the walk-in wardrobe while the woman curled a few undone pieces of her hair.

Deep peach lips and a simple terracotta shaded eye look, Belle briskly made her way downstairs to see how Taehyung was doing with getting ready.

Her older brother had been extremely reluctant in coming to the event but she suggested it would be good to do something other than sitting around. Maybe getting his mind off of any messiness even for a few hours. Still hesitant he silently agreed but Belle had a nagging feeling he was still napping.

Down the stairs as her curls bounced a little in the process, Nana smiled and rushed over to her.

“He’s fine, mistress.” She quickly reassured as they both stopped near the entrance archway.

Belle let out light sigh before chuckling, head lowered for a moment. “Is the suit okay?”

“Very handsome.” She nodded in acknowledgement. “You should be dressed too.”

The younger female hummed before hearing a few voices back and forth as if in argument. Brows furrowed, Belle walked to the other side of the mansion where the second living room was while Nana continued on with her work.

The area was empty but she still heard angered voices coming from the left room. The second living room led two areas. It had a similar design to the first one except instead of a bar, there was another fireplace. Past the couches in the center led to an open archway towards the kitchen on the right while the left was closed; Jungkooks’ home office.

Curiosity and slight concern seeping through her entire body, Belle walked towards the door which in mere minutes opened harshly. A clear air of smoke flowed out into the second living room touching her nostrils and making her wince.

The once angry looking men immediately stopped in their tracks for a moment before waving off the smoke and bowing. “Excuse us, mistress.” One of the older ones acknowledged as they took turns walking past her to the exit. Jongho and another guard led them properly to the door but the womans’ gaze was more on the figure sitting at the chair, rubbing his face.

Entering the office, she closed the door behind her.

His slightly reddened eyes flickered to meet her gaze before lowering his head. “Belle—” Jungkook sniffled, fingers running through messy hair. White shirt a little crumpled, almost half unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It became a usual sight for the man ever since this new election. “Sorry…I don’t usually yell.” He sighed attempting to messily fix up the papers.

Staying silent, feet padded closer to the table and gently took the paperwork in her hands, stacking them neatly with a tap on the edge before placing them back on the surface. “I know. You haven’t slept.”

“Park Chul clearly isn’t planning on sleeping.” Jungkook almost seethed just mentioning the mayors’ name.

Belle moved to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders lightly squeezed the knotted muscles. “That doesn’t mean you stop taking care of yourself.”

He let out a drawling hum, throwing his head back. “You can take care of me.” A soft smile tugged at his lips as her vanilla scented perfume graced his nostrils. For hours Jungkook had been forced to tolerate the tobacco, weed and alcohol, it felt nice to have someone pleasant around him again.

“What if I’m not here?” Another million dollar question that silenced them both for a few minutes. Even the woman grew uncomfortable at how heavy those words were. Their deal was perfect. But what about twenty years from now? Fifty years? What if Jungkook being married didn’t matter anymore?

“You’ll always be here…won’t you?” He stared up at her.

Belle stopped massaging him at this point, mind crowding with unwanted thoughts and unanswered questions. Too much to think about in such little time. “I made a promise.” She smiled. “I’m gonna keep it.” Seemed the best reply in the pile of things she truly wanted to say to him except there was no time to worry themselves over delicate details.

Jungkook chuckled a little under his breath as the vanilla scented goddess now moved to sit on the table in front of him. “Shouldn’t you be dressed by now?”

“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Jeon.” Her eyes flickered up and down his body.

Fingers accidentally pushed her robe aside to let those soft thighs peek out in display, the feeling of it under his pads allowed for a sense of relief to wash any stress down. All she had to do was sit here and Jungkook felt instantly revived. Even the scent of alcohol and tobacco faded away with her presence bringing him nothing but light bliss. “I like this outfit.” He smirked, hand tracing down her leg so it sat on the arm rest, slightly caging him in much to his pleasure.

Belle smiled placing her other leg on the left arm rest giving him a small peek of her satin black panties. “Do you want me to wear this outfit?” She purposely softened her voice.

The sweet sound tingled down his spine, head turning to kiss the inside of her thigh.

Eyes closed feeling each kiss lurking closer to the thin barrier hiding the womans’ core. Leaning back a little, she buried her fingers gently in his thick hair. Grip tightened when Jungkooks’ lips finally pressed against her panties. “We don’t have time for that.” She spoke breathlessly.

“We’ll make time.” His voice rasped.

She felt her panties being pushed to the side, exposing her core to his hot breath before his tongue licked a stripe up from her slit to her little nub. Legs jerked a little almost locking her thighs together but one of his hands kept one of them still. Tongue lapped on her throbbing clit making it hard to keep herself steady without knocking over the desktop computer behind her; light moans melted out of her like a long unsung melody. A little hesitant but she had to sing it regardless. “Dai—”

Her voice made his heart flutter immediately concealed with a light groan that vibrated against her core. Lips wrapped around the sweet bundle of sensitivity and suckled, relishing in the feeling her plump thighs pressing against his ears.

Belle almost lost her balance as she pushed the keyboard away to the side. The familiar warmth constricted around her lower belly now welcomed itself, moans fading into desperate whimpers to reach her orgasm.

Feeling her hips jerk against his mouth, Jungkook breathed out through his nose not leaving a single break as he pushed her to her release. Clit throbbing between his lips, he shook his head.

The rough pressure torturing her bud as she drowned in the warm explosion seeping through every vein, body trembled in bliss. When Belle felt his tongue still moving causing her to jump a little from the sensivity as she pushed his face away softly. “No more.” She giggled, still trying to catch her breath.

Jungkook kissed it once more with a cheeky smile before standing up.

She wiped off the glisten on his chin with the fabric of her robe and pressed a light kiss on his lips. “What about you?” Her hands pulling at his belt but he held onto them.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, giving her a reassuring smile. “I just needed a little treat.”

Belle slapped his chest softly not able to get rid of the blissful smile gracing her features. “We should get dressed now.” She muttered even though their hands were still slowly caressing each other.

“We should.” Jungkook pushed away the loose curl over her eye.

Whether it was the ecstasy still flowing through her or a genuine feeling from within, the woman found herself in complete comfort under his touch. Maybe something more than just sexual attraction. Not that it could ever be anyway, there was no real use in true feelings for something false. Despite the thought in mind Belle smiled up at her clever captor turned fiancée and felt tingles run down her spine at a mere kiss on her cheek.

Sangria House reeked of luxury from its royal purple and gold tapestries, crystal lamps with warm lighting, scent of wine mixed into vanilla while the inside adorned with colorful angels entertaining their patrons. Since the house colors were not allowed to be worn by visitors, many of them opted for the classic black which made Belles’ deep green velvet dress stand out a lot more than she expected.

Arm hooked onto Jungkooks’ while Taehyung walked with them on her left, the three were welcomed by an angel with white attire. She bowed, smile gracing her features before leading them past the main lobby of entertainment where a few angels in white played instruments on the small stage.

Upon observing, a lot of the members in the lobby only wore white while some red ones sat in a few corners.

Belle assumed the higher ranking ones would have more private sessions or maybe there were certain times where each angel arrived. So many things still left unanswered for the workings of the Sangria House but it did not change the fact, it was a quick profit hungry establishment exploiting vulnerable young people who were desperate for a living.

The young angel slid open a door to an empty private room. Table full of light snacks and three cushions for them to sit on. “Mistress Angel and Master Jimin will see you shortly.” She bowed again until her knees touched the floor waiting for them to enter the room so she could leave respectfully.

Jungkook sat in the middle while Belle and Taehyung took each side waiting patiently in a small period of silence.

“Was bringing me to a brothel really necessary?” He glared more at Jungkook even though Belle was the one who received the invitation and accepted it for the business deal.

“If it were the brothel, I would’ve been groped at least a good three times by now.” The woman replied simply knowing this establishment in particular had extremely strict rules and a different crowd of clients.

The comment silenced her brother almost instantly.

Mere minutes passed and the door slid open again bursting with bright colors. A woman with long brown hair wearing a gold georgette dress with a matching overcoat giving her the look of royalty. In a similar fashion, a grey haired male stood beside her wearing a similar design except silk lavender. Walking closer to the table, they both bowed down to their patrons adorning those award winning smiles.

Taehyung felt like something clipped his tongue when saw the angels. The ones in white were pretty but this house owner had some real gems hidden under his sleeve. Especially the lady in gold who perched herself next to him, smiling like a princess from a fairytale that the man seemed rude smile a little back.

“Welcome to the Sangria House. On behalf of Mr. Kim, we’d like to thank you for accepting this momentous partnership, Madame Belle.” She smiled at her and gave a little bow of acknowledgement. “Jimin and I will be your hosts for this evening.”

Jungkook smiled kindly and the chatting began quite smoothly since the angels were extremely talented in holding an air of entertainment. Especially these ones. Getting a lavender and a gold coated angel were not regular feats and only done if the patron was an important one to impress. The last time he saw two of these angels together in one room was when he was first anointed leader of the Cartel but it was all paid by his father and mother. Belle checked that box without any aid. He would be jealous but a jolt of pride burst through him without knowing.

“Your name is Angel?” Taehyung asked, expression softened so much he could resemble a cloud.

Angel giggled under her breath while serving his tea. “It’s a little strange.” She placed the teapot down glancing over at Jimin who was chatting along with Belle while Jungkook listened to her. “We were called faeries before but—Mr. Kim changed it after I was given the gold coat.” She gestured to her outfit.

Taehyungs’ brows furrowed looking down at her dress hoping the princess would explain why the change in her outfit was so important. Instead the criminal sitting in the middle began speaking.

“When an angel is given the gold coat, it signifies that she’s take—” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Apologies…she’s married.”

The princess nodded with a reassuring smile.

“Married.” Taehyung breathed out, feeling like a grey cloud engulfed him into a cold hug. Of all the things…of all the angels he had to melt in front of the one who was married.

Belles’ smile disappeared hearing Jungkooks’ correction. The smallest tiniest detail managed to snap a nerve that had been long hidden with her own pride and stubborn strength. He was wrong. Angel was taken. No real, true spouse would continue to let their wife be used as a sensual commodity for extra cash and this gold angel definitely brought in a lot from what she learnt. No real, true husband would manipulate someone and threaten her family just to keep up a good appearance as a married elite. This was far from being married. Marriage was something else entirely and these suited pigs would not ever understand the meaning. It was a business transaction. Her body deflated a little feeling that nudge of anxiety once again bubbling up but she quickly gave Jimin a kind smile.

Jimin knew fake smiles from a mile away but it did not take an expert to realize Mr. Jeons’ comment changed something in the gorgeous designer. Though he had to admit, she was good at holding one like she had been giving conveniently fake smiles for a while. He did not know if he should be impressed or terrified. Either way it seemed the perfect to initiate the next stage of the evening that Seokjin planned out for them. He gently touched Angels’ arm to give her the signal before speaking once everything was quiet. “Mr. Kim has private sessions booked for each of you. I will be taking Madame Belle to another room and Mr. Jeon is expected in a meeting with Mr. Kim.”

It might have sounded like Jungkook was forced to work while relaxing but he never really delved into the antics of the Sangria House. When he was a bit younger and curious, he did book a red angel occasionally but now nothing really compared to what he already had. Though something he did not like was Jimin offering his hand to Belle. “You don’t have to do that.” He muttered to the woman.

“It’s okay.” Belle spoke a little coldly, accepting Jimins’ hand as they walked out of the room.

Another angel wearing white walked into the room to escort Jungkook to wherever he needed to go but Taehyung did not really care where. All he could focus on was the fact he could now be alone with the gold princess. “Can I ask who you’re…married to?”

Angel smiled. “No one really asks. They like keeping my truth as far away from the confines of this room to make their evening more enjoyable.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?”

“Then you’d be the first.” She took a polite sip of her tea. “Is there something in particular you wanted me to do?”

“No!” Taehyung cleared his throat, cheeks heating up. “Uh—no, I—Talking is fine. I haven’t…spoken to anyone new in a long time.” He chuckled mostly to himself. Most of the friends he had left him in the dust the more he found his comfort in other things. He talked to Hoseok a lot but only when a transaction was involved, the nurses were anything but just highly paid nannies and Belle had a life of her own to lead. Sitting in this room now with the soft-spoken princess, he quickly felt how lonely he truly was.

“Am I doing a good job?” She giggled seeing the little sags under his eyes that resembled she saw in the mirror this morning.

He nodded without hesitation. Her mere presence seemed to bring a warmth in his belly, reassuring him that he was not lonely. That everything was okay even just for a moment.

The room Belle was escorted into had a similar structure to the previous one except instead of plain walls, there were cherry blossom designs giving the area a subtle pinkish hue. She walked inside and sat down on the cushion this time sitting in the middle while Jimin perched himself on the other side so they faced each other. “So…why the private session?”

Jimins’ eyes flickered up to the female while he served the tea before smiling. “Mr. Kim wanted each of you to fully enjoy the services we can provide.”

Her heart bounced a little at his words. “Ser—Services?” She breathed out a small chuckle. “What kind of services?”

The lavender adorned male could not help but giggle at her adorable reaction. “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything unless you ask me to.”

“What if you don’t want to do what I ask?” Belle tilted her head. Not on her life would she ask Jimin or anyone to do anything disgusting for her own benefit but she was curious just how put together this establishment actually was.

He smiled. “It is my job to make you happy, Madame Belle.”

Clearly not that put together. “It would make me happy if you just called me Belle. ‘Madame’ is only used for senior designers.”

Jimin bowed. “Apologies—Belle. I looked at the designs you sent in for the House…you could be a senior designer if you wanted.”

Belle giggled lightly trying not to look too proud of herself since as Jimin said, it was his job to make her happy. “Thank you. Let me know if you want me to change anything.”

“That’s not really my decision but I think it’s perfect just the way it is.” He shrugged. A small moment of comfortable silence passed through them before Jimin spoke again with a careful thought. “Forgive me for asking, Belle…but–I saw you were very upset hearing Mr. Jeons’ comment.” Every word sounded so carefully calculated Belle wished she could speak like that in front of strangers. “Part of the responsibilities in Sangria House is to detect signs of…domestic disturbances. Our patrons tend be loose tongued which helps us find out if there is anyone who needs help getting away from something like that.”

“Oh—” She tried her best to hide how much her heart almost cracked her ribcages when it leaped in both fear and a strange excitement. “You don’t have to worry about all that.” Belle shook her head with a smile. Though a small lump still grew in her throat at how Jimin spoke his concerns despite barely knowing her. “Sangria House tracks domestic disturbances?”

Jimin nodded, smile softly adorning his ethereal features. “Most of our angels are from toxic environments.” He took a breath to say something as he glanced behind him. Then he leaned in with a smaller voice. “Angel…the golden lady used to be the mistress of a powerful club owner. I—I was the one who found the signs after a private session.”

Belle swallowed down the painful lump. “Who did she marry then?”

He sighed. “Since the man was so influential, he wouldn’t just let anyone marry her.” Jimin shook his head. “So—Mr. Kim offered his hand. Well…Angel trained five times as intense compared to the other angels so her status as a gold member would be valid.”

What little hope Belle had of the Sangria House being somewhere of help quickly dwindled down back to her original opinion. Angel moved from one controlling person to another. Maybe Seokjin was not an abuser of any sort but it did not change the fact she became a commodity just so she could be free from abuse. A ‘better’ life but did that make it a good life?

Though Jimin looked quite convinced that this was a righteous path for the House.

He could not exactly be miserable about it like she was since he had to actually live through all these routines and schemes.

Same way Belle couldn’t be upset about her deal with Jungkook otherwise it could make her insane with misery. Every time the small hint of reality hit her, she felt like her whole body was drowning in it all. Something so wrong damaged the entire structure of her future. If soulmates existed Belles’ would be left waiting or they would run to someone else they were not truly meant for.

“I’m sorry…I was supposed to entertain you, not make you feel awful.” Jimin chuckled nervously, shifting in his seat.

“No, no—” She shook her head smiling at him more genuinely this time. Her hand unintentionally slid closer to his as a way to comfort the angel. “Please, I—like talking about these things sometimes. It feels—real.” Her genuine smile faded into something a little sad but it still rang with truth. “I need a lot of real in my life right now.”

Jimin hummed in acknowledgement, one of his fingers lightly tapping against her hand. “Well if you ever want to visit again this House will always be open to you.”

Regardless of what she thought about this place, that was the first time anyone ever gave her words of comfort since the ‘engagement’. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“We’ve been in casual dealings for a long time now, Mr. Jeon.” Seokjin walked towards his desk after bringing out a wooden box from his shelf and placing it on the dark wooden surface. The lighting in the office had been a lot more dim with rarely any heavy decorations save for a few plants. This place clearly was only meant for business. “But I feel this new project may be able to solidify a stronger partnership between the two of our entities.” He tapped the closed box.

Jungkook sat on the chair in front of the desk, eyes fixated on the box before flickering up to the older male. “We don’t—share the same supplies, I’m afraid, Mr. Kim.” He shook his head a smirk lightly playing on his lips.

Seokjin chuckled settling down on the chair. He flicked the gold latches on the box and pushed the lid open before sliding it towards the young lord. “I believe you do share a similar interest for this kind of product.”

Giving the house owner a look of apprehension, he slowly leaned in and peeked into the box where he saw an indigo shaded stick almost resembling a cinnamon stick. On the left was a small bag of the same colored powder and then a liquid version in a vial. “What is this supposed to be?”

“There isn’t a name for it yet.” He shrugged. “But from I’ve asked a few of my white coats to try this product out and see the effects.”

Jungkook picked up the liquified version to examine it closer, little pink glitters seemed to shine through in the light making it look like some potion from the ancient times. “And? What were the results?”

“At first the usual, loss of inhibition maybe a little sense—then…we have increased sex drive, high performance and concentration ability, pain relief and for some people, a serious case of the giggles.” Seokjin rested his elbows on the table with his fingers intertwined with one another.

“Side effects?” He met the older males’ gaze, placing the vial back in the box.

“Didn’t think you were kind of man to worry about that.” He smirked.

“I didn’t get this kind of success by selling bad drugs, Seokjin.” Jungkook smiled with a slight bitter hint.

Seokjin sighed before nodding. “Of course—unfortunately, this drug is new and not exactly made by creators of your Cartels’ stature. Side effects included heavy addiction, loss of coordination, extreme mood swings, excessive coughing with blood traces, insomnia, sensitivity to light and cold and nightmares.”

“So nothing then?” He joked, raising a brow. “It’s going to take work to ensure at least lessening those side effects by half.”

“I take it that’s a yes on the partnership.” The corner of his lip twitched up a little.

Many club owners usually turned to him and his manufacturers for new and improved drugs that surpassed the traditional ones. Though in Jungkooks’ opinion, the originals always sold the most because they were effective for years. Except brothel or teahouse owners never really dabbled into the interest of his line of work. “Why the interest in this new field?”

Seokjin smiled leaning back on his chair. “I’m a businessman, Jungkook. There’s no field I don’t want to get into. It has been an interest of mine for years since many herbs and substances have yet to be discovered. Don’t you ever wonder if there was something out there in the world that could bring you more profit…more glory than your predecessor?”

Jungkook sat silent as the question lingered in the air for a few moments. Being so young and handed the cartel without his fathers’ death caused a disagreement amongst many associates. Despite the fear harbored by whoever crossed his path, the young man was always on the path to better himself in proving that he was the most capable and most influential. There was no room to be soft or complacent in this business.

“Also the lack of knowledge for this product may prevent any…mishaps from our new beloved mayor.”

Those clever words made his ears prick up quicker than he liked. A substance with similar effects to the originals but the look of none of them. If they succeed in perfecting it then maybe it would make being discreet that much easier. “I’ll talk about it with my manufacturers.” He spoke trying to be as emotionless as possible. But the prospect of his vulnerable mess of a cartel getting some security was soothing.

The sessions and a productive meeting flowed through deep into the dark night until the three were escorted back to their car.

Belle kept her eyes out on the window feeling a light emptiness gut after an angel walked into the room and told their session came to an end. Perhaps it was Jimins’ immense talent in luring his patrons. Whatever it was she had no interest in talking to the men in the car. She felt like her whole being was ripped apart, now she needed a few moments of deep silence to stitch herself back up.

Truthfully the girl did not say anything too detailed to the lavender angel but she never needed to. Somehow he had the talent of seeing her story with a few hints. That alone made her even more reluctant to uttering a single word to her brother or her makeshift fiancée.

Jungkook peeked from the rearview mirror at the woman looking out the window wondering what happened in the private session. Even as they met again in the lobby, Belle had a cold sheet over her to a point where he could feel the chill.

When they arrived to the mansion, Taehyung shyly suggested that they should visit the house more often which Belle agreed to with a slightly exhausted smile.

“You looked beautiful tonight.” Jungkook commented watching Belle take off her earrings and necklace, placing them in a black box.

“Thank you.” She replied under her breath, unpinning some parts of her hair relieving the light headache that ensued. Stop acting miserable, Belle told herself. It would only make it worse—her chest could not clench all her life. Her gaze still focused on the vanity, she pushed all her curls over her shoulder. “Could you unzip me?” Belle asked coyly. The woman had all capabilities of unzipping her own dress.

Shrugging the soft shirt off his shoulders, Jungkook padded towards the beauty and stood behind her. Eyes flickered to her reflection in the mirror watching her glow in the golden lights of the vanity. Hands carefully held onto the zip and pulled down tantalizing slow, wanting to stand this close to her as long as possible. The scent of her perfume blessed his nostrils, he had to lean down and nudge his nose against her hair.

Belle couldn’t help but close her eyes, chest rising and falling. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Why did something fake feel so good then? His slightly rough fingers sneaking through the slit of her unzipped dress tracing up her back making her shiver a little. She shrugged off the one sleeve keeping her clothing hanging, nipples now peeking out from the green velvet.

Jungkook kept his gaze on the reflection as his hand reached out to push down the fabric so her gorgeous breasts could be full display. Fingers brushed up her chest before wrapping around her neck and turning her head up, lips devouring hers. Tongue pushed through her teeth not wasting any time exploring every corner of her mouth.

She sneaked through the slit of her dress and rolled her panties down to her thighs. Sneaking her hand behind her, Belle palmed the tightening bulge in his pants feeling him groan into her mouth which only made her moan back. Nothing fake should ever feel this good.

Losing all his sense and patience, he pulled her dress to see her beautiful ass in bare display as she bent over slightly on the table. Jungkook unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down watching Belle cheekily sway that gorgeous peach. No one should be this irresistible. One little tiny move from the woman had his head floating in the clouds. Nails dug into her skin, fingers wrapping around his cock before teasing her slit.

As much as Belle loved his tongue, feeling his hardened tip had her body tingling for more. Heated arousal leaked out of her awaiting core while she pressed her ass against his member silently asking to hurry.

“Did Jimin see this?” He slapped his cock against one ass cheek making the woman hum.

She shook her head looking at him through the mirror. “Only you.” Voice came in a whisper that leaked of a little desperation.

“Only me.” Jungkook muttered, giving her an almost borderline sinister smirk. Hands grabbed at her hips as he stuffed his cock into her pussy without a single warning.

Belle lightly groaned under her breath, nails scratching against the surface of the table. Her wet core swallowed his entire member with a light ache but it quickly faded into a warm filling that she craved for too long.

“Say it again.” He demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder for a second trying to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Only you.” A harsh thrust from behind had Belle’s body trembling in the best way possible.

“Again.” His voice grew breathless, each thrust snapping with rough need.

“Only you.” Belle moaned out feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot. Arms around her body, chest pressing against her back making his shaft hit deeper and slower pushing through his deprived orgasm. “Only—” She gasped when she felt her sensitive spot get tortured, her legs momentarily losing balance from the sensation.

“Fuck, baby—” He cursed in a breathy mumble, face buried in her hair as his orgasm raced closer.

“Master Jeon!” A yell echoed upstairs but Jungkook merely groaned at the horrible timing.

Pushing Belle down further, he rammed into her like an animal. All the makeup and skincare products stumbled and fell over the shaking table.

“Master Jeon!”

Each time the yell echoed, his thrusts grew more vicious. Her skin burned from the friction against the table surface while her limbs lost all ability to have any control of their own. Belle still could not control the small smile on her face. The feeling of her body completely submitting to the beast fucking her from behind brought a new rush of adrenaline.

Jungkook grabbed onto a chunk of her hair relishing in her little moans being drowned out by the impact against the contents of the table.

Loud knocking on their bedroom door interrupted their heated air for a second.

“Baby, don’t stop please…” Belle whimpered feeling her release reach tipping point.

That nickname again made his thrusts sloppy as the warm heaviness in his lower belly reached its uncontrollable, quickly pulling out of her. Juice spluttered all over her ass and back making her look like a sinful piece of art.

Her legs felt like pure jelly as the jolt of overwhelming pleasure clouded every other thought ever constructed in her mind. When she almost stumbled, Jungkook held her gently.

“Master Jeon! It’s an emergency!”

Jungkook groaned under her breath.

“It’s okay, go.” She whispered patting his arm.

Reluctantly letting go of the beauty and zipping himself back up, he stomped towards the door and almost pulled it off its hinges. Much to his increased frustration one of his sweaty associates stood on the other side of the door. “What could possibly be so important that you had to disturb my private time?” He glanced back at the walk-in wardrobe to see Belle completely getting rid of her clothing.

“S-sir the—” He stammered giving Jungkook the urge to strangle him right there and then.

“Speak or I cut your throat.”

“The den, sir.” He shivered. “One of our dens...police did a raid, we lost of our twenty percent supplies…sir.”

Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male feeling the deep warm bliss now cut through by his harsh reality. They actually fucking did it. Ever since that scandal, not a single soul in the police force dared to take them down but now suddenly someone decided to play hero in front of this new mayor. “You’re the one who supposed to keep the den under guard.”

The male gulped down hard. “I—I had to get out of there.”

“You should’ve died with it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sorry…” God he fucking hated that word. What did it ever solve? Jungkook nodded, rubbing the back of his neck walking over to the study table. Pulling out his gun he pointed it at the mans’ left leg and took a shot. Then another on his right leg.

He limped down screaming in agony while the drug lord merely stared him down in disgust.

“Jungkook!” Belle called out, heart jumping to her throat at the sound of gunshots. Her body now adorned a thick robe which she hugged close to herself. He looked back over his shoulder to meet her gaze, eyes reddened once again with anger and maybe a hint of distress. “Don’t…”

His entire body wanted to melt into hers for the rest of the night. Maybe it would make him forget all his problems for a while but he couldn’t. The mayor worked day and night trying to get one step ahead of him and now they were. Jungkook couldn’t let this happen. He had to send a message. A damn good one. “Go to sleep, okay? Close your ears if you have to.” He whispered.

Belle took a breath to say something but nothing came out so she sucked in her bottom lip, watching him close the door so all she could do was hear it all. The man screamed, sounds something crashing and choking. Feet backed away until her body plopped down sitting on the edge of the bed. This was his job, she knew that. But it all went back to what Jungkook was truly capable of. Why taking his deals were so important. Every sound reminded Belle of how it could be Taehyung going through the same fate. Maybe one day when the drug-lord grew tired of the same face, she would be on her knees allowing him to seal her fate just as he took control of it.

So she took his advice and pressed her hands against her ears tightly hoping to block the reality she was trying so hard to suppress.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Day 9: 👑 Final Curtain Call 👑

A letter arrives in the mail. It is, in one word, beautiful—the header and footer are adorned in a blue-violet banner, edged with a deep red. Gold foliage decorates the corners of the page, granting the letter a sense of style. The handwriting, too, is flowing and graceful.

A large toiletry bag also appears in your mailbox. When you unzip it, you find a wide assorment of jars, tubes, and bottles inside—Each frosted container fades from lavender to clear glass, and rach is packed to the brim with cosmetically elegant fluids or creams. Schoenheit Skincare, the labels proclaim in gold, accompanied by a crown-shaped logo. A large pump of moisturizer has a booklet of instructions and skincare tips secured to it.

***Chapter 5 spoilers!***

To the Ramshackle Resident,

I must extend my gratitude to you for hosting me at your dorm. It was certainly not to the same standards as my usual accomodations, but it served its purpose as our training grounds for VDC.

There is still much to be desired in regards to your managerial abilities. Furthermore, the other potatoes’ vocal and dance skills are still not quite up to par. And their charisma and stage presence? Don’t make me laugh. Of course, none can compare to I, but... You potatoes worked with what you had, and you did well for first-timers. Give yourselves a pat on the back.

... Regarding the Overblot incident, that, too, is something I am thankful you were there for. I never expected for unpolished gems like yourselves to have that amount of fight in you. Then again, I never expected that that ugly aspect of me to be put so blatantly on display. The jeaousy, the rage... I thought I had learned to hide them so well—but it was in stowing those feelings away that they festered into something far more unsightly than what they originlly were. No amount of makeup or acting can cover that up.

Instead of me knocking some sense into you, you potatoes knocked some sense into me. The roles of teacher and student were reversed. Even Epel pitched in to that battle. I suppose he has finally managed to defeat me, just has he has desired since his first day. In that sense, perhaps you all have grown much more than I had initially anticipated you would. For that alone, you deserve a standing ovation—you are the heroes of this story.

I have already informed the headmaster of my Overblot, just as I have said I would. I intend to take full responsibility for my actions. I currently await his judgement. Whatever punitive measures he deems necessary, I shall accept with my head held high. That is the pride of a professional such as myself. Until the final curtain call, I shall stand proudly upon this stage. Ironically, that has ultimately been my wish. It may not have come true as I had envisioned that it would, but... no fairy tale becomes reality without a price.

Know this: nothing in the world is simply handed to you. All my life, I’ve had to work hard to claw my way to the top. I didn’t want to rely on my father’s repuation to make a name for myself in the industry. I simply wanted to be seen as “Vil”. Not “Vil, Son of Schoenheit”. To that end, I have never stopped pushing myself to even greater heights. After all, magic that lasts only until midnight is useless.

In the real world, things are not so clear as black and white. There are no true “heroes”, nor “villains”. People are people, their moralities and views colored grey. I see that now—through all the distorted images in the mirror, through all the noise of the cheering crowd of onlookers.

I am beautiful, and I am ugly. Both good and bad. The hero and the villain of my own story. I don’t need anyone else imposing their will upon that.

I won’t lie. With all my heart, I still desire Neige’s defeat at my hands. I want to beat his simpering smile to the curb. It makes my blood boil knowing that our efforts were in vain, that we lost to a nursery rhyme, of all things! ... And that Rook!! I cannot believe he would betray me like that...! I should tear his heart out for that transgression.

... But in the end, I am grateful for those shocks. I think I needed them more than anything. That brutal honesty, a slap in the face to wake me up from my own clouded viewpoint. Perhaps I was the one believing in a fantasy all along, despite thinking otherwise. I was so concerned about how others envisioned me that I eventually lost sight of myself. The “me” in the mirror, in the reflection of my phone... Was that really “me”?

I am no longer that “me”. I’ve emerged from the ashes of the fire, stronger and burning more beautifully than ever.

Do not be mistaken. This is not my defeat. This is only the beginning.

I still want a “happy ending”. To be on that coveted stage until the final act. When the curtain calls, I want that spotlight to shine the brightest upon me, for the audience to cheer the loudest for me. For now, I want to work on myself—for I am still imperfect. A gem with many flaws.

l’ll settle the score, and this story of mine, on my own terms. Watch me from the wings, potato—and prepare to be utterly starstruck.

Do not think that just because VDC is over that you can go back to slacking around the clock. I want you to work hard toward your goals as well. I’m expecting great things of you. Who knows? Perhaps when next we meet, you will speak of journeying to the Underworld and back. Now that would be a story for the ages.

All the best,

👑 Vil Schoenheit 👑

Pomefiore Dorm Leader

Magicam Influencer, Actor, Model

Movie Appreciation Club Member

Third Year NRC Student

#Vil Schoenhet #twst anni #twisted wondrland #twst #twisted wonderland anni #disney twisted wonderland #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anniversary #spoilers #magic mystery letters

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moonbeambucky · 3 years

Text

I Promise (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4106 Warnings: fluff, smut, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: My first Chris Beck fic! Rather than a really long one shot I’m splitting it into two parts. A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23 for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

“Hey.”

The soft resonance of Chris’ voice brings tears to your eyes, ones you couldn’t help from slipping out. They fall down the curve of your cheeks past the uneasy smile you wore.

“I kept my promise,” he said. Chris flashed the top row of his bright white teeth, his mouth curving into a boyish smile that reached his eyes, the fine lines crinkling around them. He tilted his head as he looked at you through the screen, a comforting gaze that made you feel as if he was there with you.

The quality of the video chat is near perfect making you almost forget Chris was millions of miles away. He looked the same, not that you expected him to look different. It had only been a few months since you last saw each other.

His hair looks darker than usual but you suppose it’s the low lighting of the small room he’s in. He’s bundled up in a thick NASA sweatshirt and you can see several more layers he has on beneath the collar. Chris looks tired but that’s expected, what he’s doing right now is not a walk in the park. You know it’s the reason why it’s taken so long for him to contact you but you wish he did it sooner.

More tears flood your eyes, burning their way out as you wished he never left at all. You can barely hear Chris over the sound of your own sobs.

“Please don’t cry,” he pleaded.

You lifted your head towards the screen and seeing the concern on his face only made you miss him more, wishing he was there to console you in person.

Your hand swept away tears from your cheek as your voice cracked saying his name. “Chris…”

The streets are simmering with the heat of a summer that couldn’t wait to officially start. Calendars be damned, it was hot. You indulged in a cool shower when you got home from work but time didn’t allow for a languid evening of staying in your towel as you applied serums and moisturizers, lotions and creams and every other post-shower pampering you normally do. Tonight was dinner with a friend and you needed to get ready.

Chatter filled the air of the patio, a small secluded outdoor space at the back of an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side. It had an Old World Tuscan feel, from the stucco walls that looked purposely imperfect. Green patina shutters hung beside a wrought iron lantern that glowed in the early evening. Lush greens and bright flowers sat atop the half wall that surrounded the dining area making you forget you were in the city.

Chris looked the same, not that you expected him to be different. It had only been about two years since you’ve seen each other, right before he began training for his mission and now you can’t believe it was about to happen. Never would you have expected that the little boy down the block who became your best friend would actually be going to Mars.

For most of your lives you were in the same school, starting in Mrs. Kramer’s kindergarten class where you stuck together; two kids that were nervous about making friends and finding comfort in each other. As the years went on you weren’t always in the same classes but your friendship continued to grow. Chris was picked on for having a girl as a best friend and the girls always teased that he was your “boyfriend.” It never felt that way with Chris. He was your friend first and you never saw him as anything more.

By the time you were in middle school Chris was already taking advanced classes in math and science and the only class you had together was art which he was famously terrible at. It was there you asked him a huge favor, whispering to him at the sink as you rinsed off your paint brushes. “Could you kiss me?” Chris turned as red as a boiling lobster, immediately sweating as if he was being roasted alive himself. It was later that day walking home from school that you clarified what you meant.

There was a boy, Justin Kaufman, who was the coolest kid in your grade. You had a crush on him like everyone else and you were shocked when he asked if you would go with him to the dance on Friday. You were worried he might try to kiss you and being inexperienced made you nervous. Justin was really popular and if you were a bad kisser then the whole school would know it. Chris was your friend, someone you trusted, someone you could practice with just to make sure you didn’t make a fool of yourself.

You had no frame of reference for kissing back then apart from one sided smooches to pictures of movie stars that you had a crush on. But feeling Chris’ lips press back against yours was… nice. The best part about it was that things didn’t feel awkward after. Chris was still your best friend and nothing changed.

A server hands you a menu and you thank him, scanning through it to see what you might be interested in. Chris looks up at the same time you do, wondering if you wanted an appetizer. You nodded letting him choose, considering the limited food options he’ll have for over the next year.

“Can you drink?”

Chris’ nose crinkled as he smiled. “In space? No. Tonight? Yes,” he chuckled softly.

Two glasses of red wine were set on the table as you indulged in delicious food, catching up as much as you could before Chris’ mission.

“So you’d love what happened today,” you began, leaning closer, “We filmed a restoration video and yours truly was in it.”

Chris’ eyes lit up as he gasped. “I love those! You have to send it to me. Hopefully I can see it before I go. What was it?”

“A sixteenth century European oil painting.” You went into detail and Chris loved listening to your knowledge of art history. It was no wonder that was your major, taking your studies further to work as a conservator at the Met.

Chris swallowed his food quickly to speak. “You were always good at that– art, attention to detail. Remember when we had to sculpt our own faces?” he chuckled.

There was a short burst of laughter as you remembered that day from so long ago. “Yes! Thankfully the real you doesn’t look anything like that abomination you made.”

Chris drops his head down to hide a bashful smile that mixed in with laughter. He’s enjoying himself, catching up with you, eating. This was so good. He couldn’t help but scoop up another forkful of pasta, not expecting you to ask him a question. “So, how are you feeling?”

He paused to reflect and wiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “I’m nervous… excited.” Taking a sip of wine, he sets the glass down carefully on the table. Chris’ face has grown more serious. “My mom’s worried.”

“Of course she is, I don’t blame her. I’m worried. Mars is… well it’s Mars! It’s not around the block.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s definitely not.”

Chris is heading home to Connecticut tomorrow to spend the next few days with his parents. Chloe, his younger sister is coming in as well so they can all spend some time together before he has to fly down to Florida.

“Then it’s go for launch!” he said with a beaming smile, though Chris had to correct himself for the sake of accuracy. Once he’s down there the crew has to quarantine for at least ten days and go through a bunch of pre-flight checkups and procedures first. “Are you gonna watch?”

The incredulous look you gave him answered his question. “Did you really have to ask? Of course I’m going to watch the launch.”

His eyes twinkled as he smiled back at you. “Oh and don’t worry I put you on my contact list so you can send me emails. Not sure how quickly I'll get them since CAPCOM directs it back to us. And as long as we have the right satellite coverage we can even do video calls.”

“Like Facetime?”

“In theory yeah, more like space Skype,” he laughed. “It’ll be nice to stay in touch.”

Your smile was bright in the dimness of the evening. You can’t imagine not staying in touch with Chris. The longest you had ever gone was during his Air Force training. He checked in with his parents when he first arrived and from then on it was sporadic. You were able to send him letters though and tried to write him every week though your own schooling and an apprenticeship at the Louvre had taken up a lot of time but that was how your relationship was.

No matter where you were in life, across the world or hovering above it in the International Space Station, you always kept in touch. It’ll be harder now considering he’s going farther than ever before but you’ll make it work.

Chris would be back by next November and his mom was already planning a big party for his return, one he’s certain you’ll be invited to. Though you haven’t seen his parents in a while you still kept in touch with them from time to time seeing as they were still friends with your own parents.

“It’s crazy to think you’re about to go to Mars.”

Chris swipes a palm down his mouth, leaning his elbows against the table as he muses, “I know. Feels like I got the call yesterday.”

It was a night similar to this one, where Chris was in New York celebrating with you and other friends on his selection to be part of the Ares III mission. He had been working at NASA for a few years, doing biomedical research in their center in Virginia and now he was about a month out from spending two years training for his long term mission to Mars.

He stayed at your apartment that night, continuing the celebration in your own private way. You had come a long way from learning to kiss with Chris. It wasn’t a big deal, neither was it the first time you had sex with each other. It was a special dynamic that worked for the two of you, one you don’t think you could have pulled off with anyone else. With Chris you had trust that was built up over the years. He was safe, he was your friend and this was nothing more than just sex.

It didn’t happen too often, a couple of times here and there. You both dated a few people over the years and even though you were single at the moment you thought about the promise you made to each other as teens. “If we’re not married to other people by the time we’re thirty let’s promise we’ll marry each other.” Such a silly promise but thirty seemed so far away at the time.

Chris couldn’t make it to celebrate for your thirtieth birthday but you did get a card from him where he joked that the wedding was off. You were in a long term relationship, one that Chris thought would lead to marriage but you ended things a year later. It wasn’t there; that natural spark that made your heart skip a beat every time they smiled brighter than the sun, or when their eyes sparkled like stars in the night every time they looked at you.

You walked through the streets with Chris after dinner, casually strolling back towards your apartment and stretching out the inevitable goodbye that you didn’t want to say. It was so good to be with him in person again, not realizing how badly you missed it until the hours started ticking closer towards him leaving. By the time you get to your apartment Chris decided to come up stairs, wanting to spend as much of his time with you as he could.

Chris sits comfortably on your couch, cozied up beside a large pillow. He places his wine glass down on your coffee table, needing to gesticulate with both hands as he starts getting into talking about his research. He’s been published before in numerous academic journals and now he’s going on about how excited he is for his latest topic, musculoskeletal alterations and the effects of deep space travel.

He’s cute when he really gets into it, crinkles pulling around the corner of his eyes as his whole face lights up. You let out a shaky breath, smiling even wider yourself as you watched the passion he had for science and learning, one that matched the level you had for art and preserving their history.

Chris apologized for rambling on, taking a sip of wine to clear the dryness from his throat.

“So, give me the lowdown… can you jerk off in space?”

He covered his mouth to prevent the wine he was choking on from spitting out. You couldn’t help the sly smile on your face that cracked wider the redder he became.

“Well?”

Chris cleared his throat again. Pinching the bridge of his nose he looked down into his glass, chuckling a bit as he said, “The official stance from NASA is no comment so I’m going to stick with that.”

“That’s not an answer!” You could barely hold a faux sneer before you broke into a smile. Teasing Chris was all in good fun, something that went both ways from the time you were young.

You adjusted the way your legs were folded underneath you, brushing your knee against his leg. Chris lifted his arm up, a silent invitation for you to get closer and so you did, resting your head against him as his arm came around you.

Things had quieted down and you listened to the steady beat of his heart. This would be the last time you would see Chris for a long time. Your arm reached around to hold him for as long as you could.

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered against him.

Chris’ chest sunk as he exhaled a deep sigh. “I’m going to miss you too.” His arm squeezed a little tighter around you as he pressed his lips gently against your forehead. “Just look to the stars and I’ll be there.”

His words brought a comforting smile to your face, one you shared with him as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Do you want to stay?”

The corner of his mouth tugs a little as Chris thinks about it. There’s nothing he really misses at his hotel more than he does you. The only reason he came to New York was to see you first before going home.

“Yeah, I’d love to stay.”

You shifted yourself on top to straddle Chris, carding your fingers through his hair and taking in the gaze of his eyes that became pools of deep blue. You closed the distance between your lips, feeling his hands come around your back. Soft moans bubbled in your throat and soon you found yourself being carried to the bedroom.

Clothes were discarded, lips were on skin that burned hotter than the stars. You writhe against him, thighs quivering around his head, reaching out to grip him by the hair, holding Chris in place as he coaxed out your release. His lips taste like you and he licks them again, savoring your sweetness as he crawls up your body.

He tears open the condom, gathering your wetness on him as he slowly pushed in. A sinful moan falls from your lips as you feel the stretch of him inside you, inch by inch until he was fully seated. An experimental roll of his hips sets the pace for pleasure.

Your hands graze up the curve of his arms, reaching his back and digging in half moon shapes into his skin with your nails as he thrusts into you.

“Ahh fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he panted, moaning as his hips snapped forward. His name fell from your lips, a sweet sound that he couldn’t deny he loved hearing.

He changed his angle, hitting you with deeper, longer strokes. His mouth found your nipple, sucking at your peak as his hips gained speed; groaning and squeezing his eyes tightly as he fucked you, ready to explode.

“Shit!” Chris hissed, backing off quickly. You’re confused and concerned, sitting up and turning the light on beside your bed to see what was wrong. “The condom broke,” he said, still catching his breath.

Chris got up to discard it in the bathroom as you sat on the bed, crossing an arm over your chest, waiting nervously. When Chris walked back in the room he apologized for that, the stiffness of his length giving you relief that he hadn’t finished so you continued. Using your hands on him as he let out soft moans, distractedly opening another condom that you rolled down on him. You straddled him, leaning forward to capture his lips for a sweet kiss first before you lined yourself up and sank down on him.

Soon enough you were riding waves of bliss together, gripping Chris as you clenched around him, burning white hot behind your eyes. He’s right behind you, on the edge of pleasure, exploding inside you like a supernova.

Dropping your head onto his chest, it felt like your body was made of overcooked noodles that splayed loosely against him as you were desperate to catch your breath, coming down from the heights you soared to. Chris’ arms hold you close against him, his lips languidly peppering kisses to your sheen covered skin.

When his heartbeat returned to a steady pace Chris went to the bathroom to once again discard the condom and you followed behind him to use it. He went to the kitchen to get something to drink, bringing back an ice cold glass of water for you.

Back in bed you cuddled together, with goosebumps breaking out on your skin as Chris’ fingertips graze gently up and down your arm. Your eyes feel heavy but you don’t want to give in because when you wake up you know you’ll have to say goodbye and that’s not something you want to do.

“You’ll stay in touch, right?” you murmured against him, as worry took root within your stomach. His quick and emphatic reply should have been enough but you couldn’t help yourself from needing to make sure you would still hear from him during the mission. “And call me? With the space Skype?”

“I promise,” he said, as a smile spread across his face. Chris’ hand stopped moving, settling on your arm and holding you close.

“Promise me one more thing?” He hummed in response and you continued, “Stay safe up there.”

Chris tilted his head down and feeling him shift you looked up as he said, “I promise.”

In the moonlight his eyes sparkled like clear tropical waters. Slowly, a soft smile spread across your face as you stared at him. “I love you, Chris.” There was no romanticism behind it even after being together, just pure love for your friend.

Chris exhaled, planting a kiss to your temple. “I love you too, Y/N.”

Despite wanting to spend your remaining hours together awake you reluctantly fell asleep in his arms, tearfully parting in the morning. Two weeks later you watched as the space shuttle launched, with proud tears filling your eyes as Chris’ picture flashed on your screen along with the rest of the crew. Seeing that made you feel hopeful and overjoyed at the prospect of hearing from him soon.

“Chris… I’m pregnant.” It was a relief to finally tell him but you didn’t feel any better, uncertainty weighed heavy on your shoulders, crushing the space for your lungs to expand. Chris knows but now what?

He’s silent, his lips parted slightly and you don’t know if there’s a delay in the feed. Maybe you should have emailed it to him. You were going to at first and instead chose to word the importance of needing to speak to him in such a clandestine way that you were contacted by someone from NASA. Upon speaking to them they allowed your email to be dispatched and then you waited.

Chris’ eyebrows knit together, his shoulders slumping down as he stared at your face through the screen. He didn’t have any doubts, you were always truthful with each other, but he still wondered how.

“We put on a new one, I thought…”

“I thought we were good too,” you said, letting out a shaky breath.

You weren’t just pregnant, you were pregnant with his child and based off of some quick calculations in his head you were nearing the end of your first trimester. “H-how are you? I mean, how are you feeling?”

“Physically or…” Nervous laughter bubbles out of your throat.

This was hard on you, the physical symptoms weren’t fun but you could manage. What was more difficult was not telling anyone. It was early enough in your pregnancy that you could hide it from your family. They still lived in Hartford and hadn’t been down to visit yet but you couldn’t avoid them forever. Work was a different story. You had to let your boss know you would have to modify your duties as working around solvents and other chemicals would not be safe.

There was never a doubt in your mind about keeping the baby. When you were younger you imagined having children by now but it didn’t work out that way. It was something you were okay with, finding life fulfilling in different ways. Work was incredible, you were able to travel and though your relationships hadn’t worked out in the past you didn’t hold on to any resentments. Life was always complete and now things were going to be different.

You wanted to speak to Chris first before telling your family because you needed to know your expectations. Chris had a life of his own and you didn’t want your choice of having a baby to make him feel obligated in any way. You were an adult; a smart, independent woman and could do this on your own.

“I know this isn’t something we planned but…” Chris exhaled, the corners of his mouth lifting upward, “There’s no one I’d rather do this with than you... I promise.”

Chris’ eyes glisten with tears as his smile grows and you find yourself brushing away your own from the corner of your eyes. It was comforting to know Chris will be part of the baby’s life. Truthfully it would have been weird if he wasn’t in some capacity considering how close you were. For now you have a lot of time on how you’re going to figure things out for the future.

After the call Chris reflected in silence, staring out of the giant triangular windows of one of the Hermes’ common areas into the vastness of space. He was lost in thought, startled by his name being called by a crewmate. He turned to see Mark whose bright smile fell with concern upon seeing Chris’ face, asking if he was alright.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Chris responded, his tone mournful in the realization he’ll be missing the birth. He accepted the congratulatory hug Mark gave him, sighing heavily as they separated. “I always thought I’d be there for that.”

You were due in March and Chris hated the fact that he won't be there for the first nine months of his child’s life, moments and milestones he’ll never get back. He doesn’t like leaving this all on you. He knows you can do it but you shouldn’t have to.

“I can’t pretend this isn’t hard but don’t think of it in terms of what you’re missing, look at what you’re gaining, what you have to look forward to when you come home.” Chris nodded, his smile trying to come back. “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend,” Mark teased.

“I don’t. Y/N, she’s…” Chris’ face lights up as he thinks about you, which does not go unnoticed by Mark. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. She’s always meant so much to me and now…”

Mark gave Chris an honest smile as he spoke plainly, “And now you’re having a baby.”

With a proud smile that stretched from ear to ear he affirmed, “Yeah… we are.”

PART 2

#chris beck x reader #chris beck fanfiction #chris beck fluff #dad!chris beck #chris beck x you

519 notes · View notes

miraculouscontent · 3 years

Text

Didn’t Need Burrow (July 20th-August 2nd)

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki's stance on the prospect of The Reveal is abruptly reversed and/or retconned so that she's completely in favor of Marinette telling Chat Noir her secret identity. Bonus if she doesn't tell her this until AFTER some Drama Bomb has dropped, with Mari getting lectured for not reading her damned mind/'taking initiative'/figuring out before now that everything is always her fault, always and forever, because she's not P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

omg

I’m reminded of “Lady Wifi” with Tikki asking Marinette if she’s sure about not telling Chat her identity, and also “Sentibubbler” where Tikki was perfectly fine with Alya knowing.

Like?????

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Something that comes as a devastating blow for Marinette mildly inconveniences Adrien. Naturally, HIS reaction to whatever it is gets played in all seriousness while HERS is glossed over/mined for humor/she's shamed for the grievous sin of having an EMOTIONAL REACTION instead of being Tikki's perfect little flawless automation.

Well, obviously his issues are worse! Look how sad he is!!

Look how SAD!!

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki lectures Marinette for putting Too Much Responsibility on Chat Noir's shoulders. This is possibly passed off as how she should KNOW that PLAGG is Unreliable, as opposed to *Chat Noir* being Unreliable. Bonus: this is coupled with how she should TRUST Chat Noir more... just not, you know, with actual RESPONSIBILITIES or anything.

I’m like, laughing but also seething, because just the double standard of “YOU SHOULD TRUST HIM... but don’t put more on his shoulders, he’s going through so much!!”

“Bonus” if it’s a “Marinette, it’s all your fault!! You don’t know what Chat goes through!!!” despite how she literally can’t.

emikogale asked:

I don't need a burrow to know that the season 4 finale is probably going to have some forced drama and cheap shock value.

is it time to pull Reverse Love Square

is it

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: It's explicitly stated that Plagg is meant to be 'teaching Adrien' how to be more selfish (or 'independent'), because cats are stereotypically selfish/independent creatures, and Adrien obviously NEEDS to know that it's okay for HIM to be selfish.

Deep breaths, Clarity.

Deep breaths.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette's trauma from Chat Blanc will be treated as a *good thing*, as she is told that she SHOULD feel guilty and that this should motivate her to be more honest with her partner, despite all evidence to the contrary. If she took 'the wrong lesson' from this, then it's her own fault, clearly!

What’s the phrase? “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”?

Naturally though, Adrien will be exempt from this and will be told that he deserves better and shouldn’t take this.

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to burrow: Luka/Kagami will never get a magical charm or have a scene where they break their akumazations. If we do get that scene, for Luka he will most likely break it off for his family or to another love interest like Zoé. (I can see the show frame it as a lesson to Marinette like "You see Marinette, Luka can break it off if you told him the truth in the first place. But no, he prefers Zoé since she's more honest than you". For Kagami, it'll be mostly be off screen and ignored.

Zoeka: *exists*

all of us: oh god

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Once Alya inevitably screws up in a way that Tikki can't gloss over, Tikki will berate Marinette for going against THE RULES and make everything out to be All Her Fault, while acting as though she NEVER supported the idea of Alya knowing.

It’s times like these where I wish we could double up on Didn’t Need Burrows, but then we’d have like, a card’s worth of doubling up, lol.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien/Chat Noir actively sabotages one of Ladybug/Rena/the other heroes' plans in order to prove that 'they still need him'. Marinette/Ladybug takes all the blame for the fallout.

Of course she does.

Marinette, you need to TAKE CHARGE!!

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: Chat Blanc Sentimonster

It won’t happen, but I just got an awful thought of Chat Blanc and Sentibug returning at the same time.

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: We will have even more Akumatized Villain/Sentimonster pairs which are rehash of Reflekta/Reflekdoll situation.

“Bonus” if the sentimonster barely matches the akuma’s original role. Like Reflekdoll VS Guiltrip.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien/Chat Noir will start secretly destroying the Anti-Akuma Charms so that people can keep getting victimized, providing more chances for him to see Ladybug. Marinette will blame herself, thinking she made them improperly/incorrectly somehow.

And even once it comes out, Marinette will forgive him and insists that it’s her fault for not “considering his feelings” and how she “should’ve made the charms stronger.”

Anonymous asked:

Theory that could be DNB I guess: The REAL Adrien is in a coma/dead and OUR Adrien is a senti that his mother created to be the “perfect” replacement goldfish son. Real Adrien is in some treatment facility in Tibet (if alive) and Gabriel and Emilie found their miraculous shortly thereafter.

FDKJGKFDGf

Okay, this ask wins for “Didn’t Need Burrow that made me laugh most.”

“Perfect replacement goldfish son,” oh my gosh, it’s beautiful.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: When Maribug gets akumatised, Renalya and Adrichat have the "knights in shining armor" to save the "damsel in distress". Maribug is eventually blamed for getting akumatised in the first place while Renalya and Adrichat get off scot-free :)

Real talk, one of the only akuma I can think of who were “blamed” for the akumatizations was Markov (since Max debated turning him back on even though he himself has gotten akumatized before). Does that put Marinette on the same level as a robot, expected to follow orders to a tee?

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Marinette gets Yet More Lessons about how she shouldn't be selfish and must always put others ahead of herself, no matter how much she suffers as a result. Adrien, meanwhile, is 'taught' to put himself first. Bonus: one episode combines the lessons, AND we're shown how Adrien already KNOWS how to be selfish and is OPENLY SO as Chat Noir, yet his misbehavior is presented as Good while Maribug is punished for being imperfect, as always.

Thanks, I hate it, take it away.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: In a Shocking Twist on the Senti!Adrien theory, Gabriel MAKES a Senti!Adrien to replace his own son. The REAL Adrien winds up locked up and/or running away, and much Angstrese is had. Bonus if this leads to Reversed LSBS: Senti!Adrien shows polite interest in Marinette because Gabriel still wants to akumatize her, damnit, while Ladybug notices that Chat Noir seems stressed and reaches out to him, only to be rebuked because he's still a selfish little creep who hates her having secrets.

The fact that Gabriel has never taken advantage of Marinette’s crush despite knowing that she’s crushing on Adrien (”Chat Blanc” doesn’t count) is weird to me. If he was after her in “Ladybug” then why not take advantage of it?

...Wait, is SentiAdrien going to cause reverse love square because “Adrien would never make Marinette fall out of love for him because he’s perfect so it has to be a misunderstanding”?

oh no

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Shadowmoth makes a Senti!Adrien for some stupid reason or another. Like Sentibug before him, Marinette tries to save him upon realizing the truth, and is hit hard by the inevitable loss. Fandumb naturally SLAUGHTERS her for it, insisting that she would have gladly replaced the REAL Adrien with the fake, much like how Adrien/Chat Noir preferred Sentibug to Ladybug. Bonus if Alya/Tikki/others reinforce that mentality by accusing Marinette of the same thing themselves.

I don’t know which of these two SentiAdriens DNBs are worse.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: The difficulty of using multiple Miraculi at once is retconned so that the REAL issue is how well the kwami get along. Marinette learns this the hard way when Tikki gets into a jealous snit-fit with one of the other kwami, and they refuse to work with each other in a joint transformation. Naturally, it falls upon Marinette to help them reconcile, as she's blamed for whatever sparked off the argument in the first place. Because of course she is.

*sigh*

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Marinette has a full-fledged breakdown over all her responsibilities piling up on top of the guilt complex she's naturally developed from being blamed for everything that goes wrong. At best, she gets a pithy line or two about others 'completely supporting' and 'believing' in her before she's forced to get back up, still staggering under the weight; at worst, she's guilt-tripped for having the breakdown, because HOW DARE she be HUMAN, am I right?!

Just the idea of it being said already that teens aren’t meant to be guardian/hold miraculouses and then Marinette being chided for “not doing a good job” is just--

ugh.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Adrien outright admits that he hates Ladybug having other allies, complaining that things were so much better when it was just him and 'his lady' against the world, without even the Guardian's support. His whining is treated as sympathetic, even if he outright states that he wishes she was completely dependent upon him and didn't have anyone else to turn to.

tbh this is the only reason we don’t have permanent heroes; because Chat wouldn’t have his private time with Ladybug to flirt.

I can’t be convinced otherwise.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Chat Noir's jealousy of Rena spurs an outburst from him that forcibly reminds Ladybug of Chat Blanc. The trauma response this triggers is naturally used *against* her, played as Marinette's Latest Mistake. Since her trauma is CLEARLY her own fault, and she's GOT to learn how to cOnTrOl HeR eMoTiOnS while Adrien can throw Cataclysmic hissy fits to his heart's content.

Honestly, even if they didn’t do this specifically, I could also see Marinette being blamed for “being afraid of Chat Noir/Blanc” when she “doesn’t even know what happened.”

Basically, her “““blaming”““ Chat or “““reacting to him”““ for something he “““didn’t even do.”““

Anonymous asked:

DNB: 'Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought them back.' Much like the old nursery rhyme, Adrien's insistence that he DESERVES to know everything he wants to stick his nose into 'kills' any pretense of Chat Noir being heroic as he turns on/abandons Team Miraculous. Marinette/Ladybug is forced to cater to his whims in order to 'satisfy' him enough that he comes back.

Seems fair. :|

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Adrien/Chat Noir inflicts physical damage on somebody/something that is NOT magically wiped away/restored by his partner's Cure. This inconsistency exists purely to blame Ladybug for the consequences of HIS actions. Possibly with a side of Angstrien (provided they have him actually act like he *gives a damn* about what he's done).

I think that’s a pretty common trope in fics too; Ladybug being worried that Miraculous Ladybug won’t bring something back.

So yet another thing taken from the fandom.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: When Marinette finds out about Alya betraying her faith in her yet again, Alya bleats that she didn't explicitly SAY that she couldn't tell Nino, only that she trusted her, which she took to mean that she 'trusts her judgment'. In other words, Alya blames her *deliberately ignoring Marinette's wishes* on her 'bestie'. Bonus if Marinette subsequently TRIES spelling things out more only for Alya to complain about her being too 'pushy'/'controlling'/not leaving her that wiggle room.

“Girl, I told you to trust me, because I know that there won’t be any consequences to this!”

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Alya discovers Adrien's secret identity. Rather than telling/warning Marinette, however, she either spills the beans to him or schemes to get them together/force a reveal, believing that this will 'magically solve everything'. The show acts as though she's entirely justified in jerking Marinette around, pretending it's *hilarious* for her to add to her BFF's misery with her plotting behind her back.

Obviously this is all for Marinette’s sake so it’s fine.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien will FINALLY learn/figure out that Marinette made his scarf... and be heartbroken that SHE lied to him about it.

Marinette, how could you possibly let Adrien believe that his father did something nice for him to make him happy! You let him live a lie!!

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: Mister Rat Sentimonster

I will only accept this if Xavier Ramier saves the day somehow.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Chat Noir will confront Ladybug directly about 'replacing him with Rena', whining about how HE'S her partner, not HER. No matter how much she tries reassuring him/strokes his ego to calm him down, Adrien remains pissy about it. Bonus if this blow-up happens during an akuma attack/other crisis, and Marinette is presented as unreasonable for wanting to focus on the bigger problem at hand. Screw the civilians, what about Chat's pOoR fEeLiNgS~?

What about THE DYNAMIC, Marinette?????

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Gabriel's grousing about how Ladybug 'never makes mistakes' foreshadows an inevitable moment where, after gaining a major advantage thanks to somebody else's screw-up, he gloats that Ladybug has finally made a major tactical error.

...They would.

They absolutely would.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Gabriel will exploit his son's gross sense of entitlement towards 'his lady' by convincing Adrien that Ladybug has neglected him more than HE has, what with the whole 'wanting to have a say in her own love life/rejected his unwanted advances/begging him to take things seriously rather than treating superheroics as a game'. Adrien laps this tripe up like cream to soothe his ever so precious ego.

Which makes Shadow Moth out to be a decent manipulator but continues to make the love square look bad.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien will be responsible for exposing the fact that Alya still has the Fox Miraculous to Gabriel. This could be by telling him directly during a face-heel turn, or simply because he's careless with that information (such as confronting Ladybug about Rena during an akuma attack/while Hawk/Shadowmoth is in a position to overhear).

I presume Ladybug is to blame for this for ever giving Alya and Nino a miraculous at the same time (when her hand was forced) in the first place.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Chat Noir straight-up *assaults* Alya out of jealousy over Ladybug trusting her more/'replacing him' with Rena. This may involve Cataclysm, and she may or *may not* be transformed at the time. Bonus if this happens *BEFORE* or *WITHOUT* him switching sides to join Hawk/Shadowmoth, and is purely about him *getting her out of the way*, possibly with the paper-thin excuse of wanting to 'prove himself' without her being around to 'screw him up' or 'steal his glory'.

I’d like to say that this isn’t likely, but he’s already been driven to property destruction soooooo--

Anonymous asked:

DNB: After investing so much time and effort into building Alya up as this incredible individual who absolutely deserves Marinette's trust despite doing nothing to earn it or her preternatural skill with Guardian-related tasks, she will abruptly lose all competence in order to 'prove' that Adrien is naturally better than her and that HE is Ladybug's 'only TRUE partner'.

Or Alya telling Nino comes out and in comes Chat with “I would never keep things from you, m’lady!!!”

Meanwhile, fandom having “Chat Blanc” flashbacks.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: The series ends with Adrien selling the in-universe version of Astruc the rights to tell their story, with the clear implication that everything we just watched is the end result. Meaning that Marinette gets to be humiliated by her adventures being 'recreated' in precisely the form we've seen, every episode cheerfully depicting her as a constant screw-up who got blamed for EVERYTHING that went wrong. Because why should she get to have any kind of positive self-image, right? GIRL POWER!

Oh my gosh, they would.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't need burrow: In Crocodues, Luka will fully be over Marinette and act like a friend while Marinette might still have feelings and is super awkward around him, highlighting how Marinette (or girls in general) has poor control over her emotions unlike Luka (er boys in gerenal).

Still waiting for reverse love square where Marinette is over Adrien but Luka is no longer an option so guess she has to go for Chat.

...Does that make Chat a rebound?

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: One or more of the kwami outright admit that yeah, no, they simply don't respect Marinette at all. Due to her youth, inexperience, lack of training, or maybe just because they can get away with treating her like shit and acting like a spoiled brat. Naturally, this is treated as entirely HER fault. Bonus if she TRIES to lay down the law with them and is promptly villainized for it. Maybe even compared to Hawk/Shadowmoth.

Completely understandable, of course. They’re just so used to people who are older and wiser and professional--

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: Mass of episodes fleshing out Luka, since Lukanette is out of picture now. (Bonus points if Anti Lukanette people will make posts saying that fleshing out Luka would be impossible without breaking Lukanette first)

“Wishmaker” will probably do this. I can’t see them giving Luka anymore screentime than the three episodes he should be “grateful” for. (”Truth,” “Crocoduel,” and “Wishmaker”)

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need to Burrow (Wishmaker)

The episode will be a mixture of Hearthunter and Frozer. There will be a Luka/Mari/Adri moments throughout the episode. And as the episode ends, Marinette will look at Adrien and Luka will be sad and say you should go to him to which she does. Thus making...the Lukanette ship...sighs...dead.

I’m blown away by this idea of the person who is arguably most “deserving” of a warm and loving relationship not getting one (or getting a “second choice” with Zoe for example) while characters who clearly aren’t ready to be in a relationship get all the attention.

Anyone wanna take a guess on which “nice guy” writer lost a girlfriend to an actually nice guy and is still salty about it to this day?

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to Burrow Wishmaker

Luka will play a song on his violin that represents the love square, it will be be so beautiful that Mari and Adrien will be in awe together when in reality its just the Spongebob sad violin music.

I can also see violin scratching for it as well.

I choked on my drink.

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to Burrow (Wishmaker)

This episode will either be the Lukanette vs Adrienette feud or it will show us all these crazy shipping scenarios from LS to Lukanette to LukaAdri. It will give the fans what they wanted but ended the ships in a nightmare.

Psst....you can tell by the icecream symbolism

Ugh, I’m dreading the idea of it being an episode about these repeated scenarios and then having to go back or whatever. Viperion’s there so maybe him witnessing them and then having to go back.

tc-leo asked:

Don't need to Burrow

Luka will basically lead Adrien and Marinette down the Love Square endgame path through his violin playing.

This would be the second time they forced Luka to play for the love square.

I swear to several lords--

tc-leo asked:

Don't Need to Burrow to know that in Wishmaker, the scene of Adrien in the middle while a closeup of Luka and Mari holding hands represents the end of Lukanette.

“““plot twist,”““ the writers say, while we sip our tea going, “you really think you can still bait us?”

Anonymous asked:

Didn't need burrow: Wishmaker will be the Heart Hunter of Lukanette. As in Luka and Marinette have Adrien third wheel them and it's actually cute and stuff. Optimistic I know but that's what it looked like in the trailer.

Your optimism is adorable and I appreciate it even if I’ve been burned too many times to be lured in by it.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Juleka reveals a deep-rooted resentment towards Marinette for 'breaking her brother's heart'. This bottled-up anger fuels a call out where she rants about how she never deserved Luka, tossing out accusations that Mari can only weakly deny, since Everything Is Always Her Fault and She Deserves To Suffer. Juleka going off is presented as a positive thing since she's sharing her true feelings; meanwhile, Marinette has to bottle HERS up even more and absorb the abuse, apologizing to her/Luka.

show: *continuously pressures and pushes Marinette towards Adrien*

also show: *blames Marinette for being into Adrien*

Anonymous asked:

DNB: That teaser picture Gloob released that had Marinette looking at Luka wasn’t actually a Lukanette scene! It was actually taken right after Luka told Marinette about how he’s dating Zoe and is happy now. Marinette is smiling to show her support and totally not because the writers took away her ability to feel love for any character other than Adrien! 🙃 (Also Luka had the obligatory “You two are made for each other” line, because the show is going to forget how much he loved her and force him to move on with a character who was only in three other episodes 🤦)

Even if Zoeka doesn’t happen in 4 and 5, it probably will in 6 and 7 considering that it’s “post-series” or whatever and they wouldn’t know what else to do with him.

Anonymous asked:

Dnb: In Crocoduel, Luka figures out Marinette's secret identity but doesn't tell her (so the writers can justify he is a crappy bf). In Wishmaker, he finds out about Adrien's secret identity, has tge realization that they are into each other and goes "Marinette I live you but you and Adrien are meant to be so bye"

The lack of self-awareness in ignoring that Adrien also didn’t tell Marinette.

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to Burrow

We will find out that Wishmaker will show Adrien's wish which is to confess his identity/love to LB which results in Luka/Viperion finding out and keep using Second Chance/self sacrifice himself. If it was Marinette's case, Luka (whether or not he knows her secret identity) will find out her wish is to confess her identity/love to Adrien and he would use Second Chance/sacrifice to prevent that. He'll also find out that part of Mari's wish is she might not want to have a future with him and consider him as a second option. Realizing both of their identities as LB/CN and how dangerous their wishes are, Luka will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

Once the day is saved, Luka will pretty much tell Mari its best not to continue and stay friends. He'll either be sad that Mari don't like him that way anymore or scared of Mari finding out that he knows both of their identities.

Oh and the morality of the episode for Marinette is it's okay if you don't know what to do if life. It's best to not know and just live with it.

wow thanks i hate all of it

Anonymous asked:

Dnb: lukanette angst in crocoduel doesn’t make sense to happen now so it only shows up now to provide trouble for Marinette, akuma, or extra drama juleka for no reason

So the usual.

May I just point out that Juleka has now run away anxiously two episodes in a row now since “Guiltrip” is the episode before this in procode?

#((I keep forgetting how long it takes to reply to all of these lol but I adore them lol.))#category: salt #Didn't Need Burrow #other: ask and answer

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

All That Remains, Chapter 8: The Flower Garden of the Woman Who Could Conjure [Part 5]

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 3: Strength Upright: Compassion, Courage, Self-Control Reversed: Weakness, Doubt, Discord

Once upon a time, a troll makes a mirror.

Is that not how we started this story, so long ago? How so many start: a vile creature forges an object. Who and what change in the telling; a troll makes a mirror, a god conjures a box, knowledge grows in a garden. In the end, it is all the same: what is once contained is opened, unwitting. Or lost, foolishly, in a heart so cold and cruel that it becomes bent to another purpose entirely.

But that is merely an allegory, a fiction composed to cover the raw edges we leave when we rub against each other. For that is the truth, is it not? There is no fell creature, no capricious and omnipotent beings to blame for our misery. There is only us, carving our place in our story by smoothing pieces off another. A snow queen is not made from frost and cold but by the blades of others, slicing slivers from her flesh until only ice remains.

That is the truth we cannot bear: the only monsters we face are the ones we have made. The only poisons we drink are those human hands have brewed.

And it starts like this, always: a girl in a garden, remembering the image of a rose, and wondering, how could I have I forgotten?

“You were quiet at dinner tonight.” Shirayuki hasn’t been at court long-- or rather, in court, privy to all its secret signals and capricious undercurrents-- but she knows that this is as close to an “are you all right?” as Haki can come. If confrontation is only allowed the glint of a knife, affection is stifled to a hint of warmth, a fire made in a room one is forbidden to venture. “I hope that the meal agreed with you.”

A flash of pharmacy white flutters at the corner of her vision, frustratingly out of reach. It’s been so long since she’s been there, since she’s thought of anything but silverware and schottische; when she tries it’s like a hundred voices shouting at once, each demanding to be heard. Just like being at Lilias, heads bent over a knotty problem--

“Shirayuki.” The consort does not crouch; it’s best, Lady Mihoko often remind her, to pretend one has no anatomy beneath the waist. But Haki does perch on a cushioned stool, her brows drawn tight over the elegant line of her nose. “You are not...indisposed, I hope?”

A solid shake dispels the fog mired around her. “What? Oh, no! I only...” It would be a mistake to speak of loam between her fingers, of the satisfaction of hearing a pod snap from its stalk. “I didn’t have much to say with my, erm, conversational partners.”

Royal brows raise to stunned arches. “Is that so? I would have thought you’d find much in common with Lord Kazunori and Lord Seiichii.”

They had both been older men, southern lords drawn to court for Seiran’s summit. Kind enough, but they spoke to her as they would their own daughters, which is to say: warmly, but brief. Not of any topics that one might sink their teeth into, lest it leaving lines around her mouth.

“I think they were more interested in talking to each other than to me,” she admits. In part because of her sex, and in part because-- well, her body may have been in that chair, obscuring the twining gods and goddess painted across it, but her mind had been a wing away, wondering if it was yet time to harvest the roku berries, or whether this year’s crop of apprentices knew akegi from yura shigure. “It seems there’s much to discuss before they all meet for, ah...discussion.”

Haki hands her a rueful smile. “There always is.” With a sigh, she sweeps to standing, as statuesque as any marble in Wistal’s halls. “Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it. I’ll have to ask the majordomo to find you some more scintillating seatmates tomorrow.”

“Ah..!” Tomorrow. Never had a day seemed so far away, so much more than a handful of hours between dawn and dusk. At Lilias, the nights had wavered between seasons, some so short she hardly slept between sun set and rise; and others so long that she woke in darkness, only to leave the lab in the same. But still, none seemed so long as this, and for no reason at all.

“Is something wrong?” Haki turns to her again, concern rumpling the curved lines of her mouth. “Do you have plans...?”

“No!” Shirayuki rushes to assure her. “It’s only...you mentioned dinner, and suddenly I felt so...”

“Weary?” Haki offers, when she won’t. Her eyes soften with mouth to match, smile turning her from heavenly to beatific. “I’m not surprised. You have been hard at work these last few months.”

And hardly anything to show for it, in Lady Mihoko’s learned opinion. Shirayuki bites back a groan. She would be sixty before that woman found her approaching passable, and even then, she still wouldn’t be good enough for a prince’s wife. Not when his children might have some chance, no matter how slim, of seating their sullied bloodline on the throne of Clarines.

“Perhaps you have earned a break.” Shirayuki blinks, staring up into the consort’s glowing face. “A private dinner seems in order. A night of no pressure of expectation.”

It sounds too good to be true. “Oh, no! I couldn’t--”

“Give me but a moment.” Haki hesitates at the door to her boudoir, lips lifted in an impish grin. “Perhaps my good brother might find himself available as well?”

Her mouth snaps shut. It’s been ages since she saw Zen, just the two of them. He came to dinner rarely-- understandable, with the summit only weeks away, and entirely under his purview, despite Seiran’s tacit position as host-- and where he went, Mitsuhide and Kiki went too. Haki had been her closest companion these past few weeks, the only friendly face, but Shirayuki longed for someone who didn’t look at her and see a princess, but--

Nervous energy courses through her, jolting her to her feet. Her hands itch, wanting for something to do, and with no plants to hand, they land upon the package on the receiving table. It’s wrapped in humble brown paper, folds clean and crisp, twine tightly tied. Haki’s medication, she realizes, dropping it from her numb hands. Made in the pharmacy. There’s a note on top-- instructions. She’d recognize them anywhere; after all, she’d written more than a few of them herself.

It’s curiosity that makes her pluck it from where it sits. It’s been ages since she’s been in the lab, but her knowledge hasn’t faded; there’s no harm in seeing whether there are any mistakes. An apprentice could have made this, after all. The dose does, as Garack was so fond of saying, make the poison.

She flips open the card, already flushed with the thought of being useful, but--

It’s not some apprentice’s writing at all. Oh no, she knows this spidery scrawl all too well. It was on every jar at her bench, every treatise she read late into the night.

It’s Ryuu’s.

Ignorance is bliss, they say. Always with a laugh, but stewing beneath it is envy and longing in equal measure. A pining for times past, for a childhood never quite as innocent as we remember.

For that is what we miss: innocence. Not the not-knowing, but state of not needing to know. The trust we felt towards those who always knew in our stead, who kept us safe from the dangers that pressed in around us. The ones who protected us with little lies; the small pauses to omit what might scare us, the careful editing to make our worlds the giddy fantasy we dreamed.

But there comes a day where all children must grow up. There is a day we must know these things for ourselves, so that we may see the world with clear eyes. For even innocence can be a cage, should some other hand try to lock you within it.

Ignorance is bliss, they say, but oh, only if they can keep you from knowing what it is you do not know.

May I ask you a question? the little girl asks, her gaze no longer on the garden, but the horizon beyond. It is bent in her vision, the glass made in such a way that each diamond blows out the edges, warping the world around it. She had never noticed when she looked only at the garden so near to it, but now...

Now the imperfection is all she can see.

Anything, the sorceress replies, her fingers wrapping around the caps of her shoulders. They’re cold, as cold as the glass beneath her palms.

The girl looks at their reflection, at the way the wave of the glass make those fingers bleed into talons. Where have the roses gone?

Shirayuki’s hands tremble, her eyes tracing every last loop, every hurried curve. “I didn’t...”

Haki peers around the jamb, letter folded in her hand. “Did you say something, my dear?”

This is the closest she’s been to Ryuu in months; even from where she holds it, the scene of lavender and akegi shigure waft from its paper. Not scented, not on purpose, but just from being left in a desk’s cubbyhole with his hastily tidied samples. His parchment smelt the same in Lilias, fragrant as the hothouses themselves.

Her chest can hardly contain her breath. “I didn’t realize that Ryuu was overseeing your treatment.”

A shadow flickers over the sorceress’s face, her grip painful for but a moment before she is her usual smiling self. A moment that could have been imagined, if only the girl was so sure it was not.

Roses? the sorceress asks airily. I’ve never grown any roses.

“Excuse me?”

“It only makes sense,” Shirayuki hurries to add, placing the card back atop the package. “He’s taken over for Chief Garack, and she always oversaw the royal--”

“Shirayuki.” Her name is firm from Haki’s lips, just shy of a scold. “I’m quite sorry but...who are you talking about?”

So many tales speak of trust as a blade, one that may be used to cut, that breaks when forged from brittle iron. A weapon, wielded and forgotten on the battlefield once the story is done.

But you and I know better: trust is a spell, woven to protect. It is a shield, unseen but always felt; sense by faith and not by fingers. And when it wavers, it does not break, does not shatter like a blade upon a stone; no, nothing so dramatic as that. Instead, it frays, unwoven one thread at a time, unnoticed until--

Until the hole can no longer be ignored.

She doesn’t leave the consort’s chambers meaning to break her curfew; oh no, when the door closes behind her, Shirayuki has every intention to head straight to her own. Her feet drag beneath her, weary from contorting herself into a mold that barely fits. There’s nothing she’d like more than to divest herself of all these courtly trappings and pass effortlessly into oblivion.

But she turns a corner, her mental map of the palace resolving, and she realizes: in one direction is her room, and in the other, the pharmacy. It’s late, but Ryuu would still be there, committing his last-minute thoughts to page while the offices emptied around him. She misses him, a longing so intense it aches.

It would only be a short visit. If Izana brought her before him in the morning, trying to act as both judge and jury-- well, Ryuu would be her physician, once she and Zen finally managed to make it down the aisle hand-in-hand. It only made sense to keep a cordial relationship with the man who would bear the next branch of the Wisteria tree into the world.

And if she missed him, the boy who straddled the line of friend and brother and son both-- there was no need to explain that to the king. It wasn’t as if Izana made a habit of confessing his ulterior motives to her. Though strangely, she thought he might understand that better than anyone.

Or all but one. And he...

Well, if there was a single person who might know where he went besides her, her feet were carrying her to him now/.

Were you to ask the girl, she would say she had not chosen night on purpose. The sorceress had housed her, fed her, loved her in her way; even with the image of the rose burned behind her eyes, she trusted her still, in the desperate way one does when one knows they should not, but cannot bear to contemplate why.

Opportunity chooses for her; the late afternoon sun burns hot, and when they finish their dinner, the sorceress excuses herself to lay down in the dark, to merely rest her eyes-- and does not wake, not even when the door creaks as the girl slips around it. The moon guides her steps when she walks into the garden, bright as the day itself, but she does not need it: her feet carrying her better than memory could.

There is one there, just as there was this morning: a petal, pink and sweet, fragrance so familiar she knew it even without sight.

Come out, she murmurs, digging her hands into the earth. Come out my lovely, my dear. I have been searching just for you.

A tendril spirals up from the ground, tentative. It flips and flaps, and oh, she is too shocked, too awed to help it. Even still, it finds her, wrapping around her finger, and with a single drop of blood the bush emerges, whole and dirt-smeared, from the soil.

What, it murmurs, impatience tinging its words, took you so long?

In the day, the pharmacy is all rush and chaos: apprentices burning tinctures and ushering patients to their rooms; masters emptying drawers as soon as they are filled, only for other herbalists to hurry to replace them. Guards arrive with injuries and nobles with ailments, no moment ever dull while the doors are open.

But at this hour, when the lords and ladies are all tucked in their beds-- or are at least pretending to be-- and the work is done, the pharmacy sleeps. There is no herbalist at the front desk, only the push bell Ryuu despised when she was his apprentice, since it always meant she would be pulled away from him or he away from his project.

A necessary nuisance, he called it once, and Obi had laughed. Just like me, eh, Miss?

She no longer remembers what she said-- it was early enough when he was one still, though she’d like to think she was too kind to say it-- but now she wishes, even if just for a moment, that she could tell him how much of a gift he was to her. How much he had made tedium bearable, even when she hadn’t known it for what it was.

Instead she bites her lips, rubbing at the ache in her breast. It’s hardly the first time she’s forgotten to say what matters, but-- but this won’t be her last chance. Obi might be away now, but he will be found, and she will tell him...

Everything. Every last thought she had since the moment they last spoke; her apologies and her worries, her failures and her triumphs. Because Obi hearing them-- that’s what makes them real.

Her hand wraps around the third door’s knob by habit; even now she expects to open it and see her projects spilled across her desk, to see a curtain closed beneath the other, and a window open between them. To see it waiting for her the way her heart waits for them, empty and waiting to be filled.

But there’s nothing of them there anymore. Nothing besides memories that no longer fit over the space it has become.

Her feet carry her onward, down to the last room, a sliver of light slipping across the hall where it’s been left ajar. She still expects to see a curled mass of blonde hair bent over the desk, long tables sprawled with books and half-finished studies, a bottle of roka medicinally sitting in the corner. But instead--

Instead it is a dark one, a riotous shrubbery of walnut and teak in desperate need of pruning. That had been her job in Lilias, along with Yuzuri’s helpful hands, but is seems no one here has yet talked the Chief Herbalist to task.

Give it a few years, Garack would tell her, and he’ll have herbalists as eager to get into his hair as you three were with me.

She leans against the jamb, a sigh slipping past where her heart clogs her throat. Ryuu had once fit beneath a desk half this size, and now he towers over it even seated, looking more and more like Shidan with each passing day, a man overgrown by time and deadlines.

“Ryuu.” It’s a palpable hit when their eyes meet. Everything else about him might change, but that gaze, so wide and thoughtful-- that never does.

Until now. One moment they spark, a fire lit behind blue glass, and the next...

It gutters, his gaze slipping away.

“Shirayuki.” His voice is so much deeper than in her memory, so much older. And colder too. “Excuse me, Lady Shirayuki. Is there something you need?”

“No.” She clings to the doorway, too aware of how fine her dress is, of how little it belongs in this place, his sanctum sanctorum. How little she belong here, now. “I saw a card you wrote to the consort, and I...wanted to see you.”

“A card?” His eyebrows twitch; she can no longer tell if it’s in surprise or confusion, not on this stranger’s face. “Ah. The powder for her migraines. Did you want some as well?”

“No, I’m-- I’m well.” It feels like a lie, even as she says it. It wouldn’t have, only hours ago. “I just...I’m here for you.”

His knuckles blanch where he grips his pencil. “Well, you’ve seen me. I trust you know your way out.”

You’re too late, too late, the roses say, their sing-song jangling in her ears. I’ve been hidden away for so long, and even now I cannot find him. The betrayal in their voice is thick when they ask, How could you forget us, your flower and your boy, when we have always grown together?

“Ryuu.” It leaves her lips cracked, broken; her mouth no longer knows how to form the shape that calls to him. “I know it’s been...a while, but please don’t think that I didn’t want to-- that I wasn’t thinking about you. I just...”

His pencil pauses on the page, but he does not speak. He just looks at her, the way he would at a stranger, and this room is suddenly a desert and ocean both, too far and deep to go by foot alone.

Still, there is nothing she will not brave, not for him. “It was hard to come,” she admits. “I’m not allowed in the gardens, and I’m not allowed to take patients. Coming here, watching everyone working the way I always have...”

It would have been like watching someone eat a feast while she was starving.

His eyes soften, even if they don’t precisely thaw. “I know that you’re marrying the prince, and that you don’t have time for m--” his lips press tight-- “this. I’m not upset because you’ve set your career aside.”

“But you are...” Her words limp as she says them, wounded fawns searching of an elusive mother. “You are upset.”

His hands flex as he places them on the wood, utterly silent. “I knew...” he breathes, so harsh it scrapes her own throat too. “I knew you’d have to give things up--important things. But...”

Ryuu had always spoken slowly, thoughtfully. But still, these moments when he meant what he said, when he composed rather than conversed-- it had never taken him to long to tell her what he meant. He trusted her, knew that even if his words came out garbled or his message was lost in a sea of ellipses, she would salvage it, gluing it back together with his intention.

So when he sits silent, it wounds her almost as much as his words.

At last his gaze lifts again from his work, but the glare he fixes on her-- “But I never thought you’d let one of them be Obi.”

Her mouth works, but the well from which she draws her reason is empty, leaving only pain in its wake.

“I didn’t...I didn’t let him leave,” she murmurs, more wind than whisper. “He never told me he was going. He just left without even...”

Saying goodbye. As if all these years had meant nothing at all.

“There’s a guardsman,” she says instead, her voice trembling toward something approaching even. “He said he saw Obi leave with--” a woman-- “someone.”

Ryuu grunts.

“He ran off with Torou, once.” She wants the words to come easy, but each one emerges from her trembling, the way her fingers are against her skirts. “On the way back from Tanbarun. That’s...that’s probably what this is. An old friend that needs help, and then he’ll come right back--.”

“He won’t.”

Each breath is a stab, deep in her chest. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He stands; a production with how much of him there is now. Cautiously, his hand extends, a fist hovering over the knotted wood of his desk.

It takes all her courage to take the first step, and all of it again to take the next. On and on until she’s crossed the room, hand outstretched, quivering beneath his own.

His palm opens, and into hers falls...a seed. Tiny. Blue. As clear as glass.

“An orbia seed?” Shirayuki lifts it up to the light, the plumule a hazy bead nestled in its luminous cotyledon. It’s impossible to tell by sight, but still, she’s sure-- it would germinate, if she planted it. “I was collecting these before we left.”

“I know.”

“It’s funny,” she murmurs, a smile lifting her mouth. “I never did find a blue one.”

“I know.” His explanation comes in fits and starts, a path never worn in the telling. “I had one. I gave it to Obi.”

“You...?” The thought catches in the light, just like the seed between her fingers. “Oh. Oh. But...” Her mouth curls, a silent question: why?

“I don’t know. I thought he might...” Ryuu’s shoulders twitch, as narrow as Obi’s when he first blew in with the wind. Before he settled into the man he became. “When he was ready...”

Of course. Her hand closes tight around the seed. Obi had what she needed all along. And she’d never known, not until...

Not until he was gone. “Where--?”

“I found it on my desk.” Ryuu’s fingers flex, falling by his side. “The morning after he left.”

Where did he go? the little girl asks, desperation choking her as surely as her tears. Where can I find him?

How should I know? the roses reply, thorns in their words as well as their stems. You are the one who left me buried under the ground. How could I watch him when you let us be trapped together?

“Did you...” Her mouth works, cutting itself against her question. “Did you tell Zen’s men, when they came? Do they know that he...?”

Said goodbye, she cannot say, to someone at least.

“No.” Ryuu blinks, his eyes as round and innocent and blue as ever. “They never did. Come by I mean.”

This is not the first time we have spoken of betrayal, is it? Of the wound that never heals, the jagged cut that scabs over only to be ripped open anew. The injury that teaches one to be wary, lest one be inflicted again.

But that is only after the wound is made. When it is first done...

Well, it is strange how long a heart can bear a blade through it without ever feeling the killing stroke.

“You are thinking,” Haruka remarks, with no small amount of disapproval. “I can tell.”

Shirayuki blinks down at her place setting, expecting to see broth dripped across the tablecloth, or perhaps the edge of her sleeve dipped in yolk, maybe even her tea dribbling over the edge of her cup--

But there is nothing. The white linen is pristine beneath her gold-rimmed plate, her sleeves and elbows tucked up and off the table, and if anything, her beverages of choice are picturesque in their vessels, juice beading with moisture and tea gently steaming. “What am I doing wrong?”

It, historically, has been the wrong question to ask the marquis, sure to send him into a silent huff that will stretch from first course to fifth, disapproval deepening with each sorbet. In his vaunted opinion, the fact her inexperience might cause her to trespass the unspoken rules of good manners is bad enough, but to not know precisely when and how it was done-- now that was truly unforgivable.

However, today he merely settles back in his seat, rubbing his fingers against the cloth tucked over his lap, and fixes her with his unerring gaze. She doesn’t shrink beneath it; oh no, instead something in her chest shifts, almost as if-- as if it grows.

His lips twitch, just the slightest upward tremor. “Nothing.”

Her mouth opens, then closes, stymied. “Then how did you know?”

A single, noble arch lifts. “Because you have never once stopped.”

It is to the tiger-lily the little girl turns, after the roses. They are a pompous flower, no doubt, as proud and self-important as any big cat, but despite their bluster, they are honest. The noblest flower in this garden, hearty and constant, and though they sniff when she kneels down upon their bed, dirtying her hem, they listen.

Have you seen him? she asks, heart lodged tight in her throat. Have you seen my precious boy?

“So what is it,” Haruka murmurs into his glass, “that has you so engrossed, young lady?”

Her lips press together, teeth plucking at the scar. “You told me once that I should know who is my ally, and who is my-- Zen’s.”

The rim has hardly touched his lips, but Haruka sets down the crystal, hands folding behind his plate. “I did.”

“But those are not the one two options, are they.” It’s not a question, not anymore. “Sometimes they may seem to be one or the other, or both at the same time, but really-- it’s their own, isn’t it? Everyone is just trying to do what they think best.”

“That is...” The marquis takes in a steady breath. “A very mature way to see a frustrating problem.”

“The consort has said that she is my friend,” she says slowly, each word shaken loose from her heart. “But she is also lying to me.”

“Is she?”

Haruka, she had said once, these long skirts tangled around her legs, binding fast as any chain, he’s hard to read.

Is he? Zen’s hand was cold against hers, like touching marble. Izana’s had been the same so many years ago; she wonders if it might be a problem with their circulation, perhaps passed down from a parent, but this doesn’t seem the time to ask about his mother’s medical history. He’s always seemed clear as crystal to me.

Though, he continues, mouth set in a rueful grin. After a childhood of lectures, maybe it’s easier. I can tell how stupid he thinks I am just from the degree of his eyebrows.

His brow is furrowed now, a tight knot over the bridge of his nose. There’s no angle, no lift, and Shirayuki isn’t quite sure what that might say about his perception of her intelligence. If it were anyone else, she might even call it concern.

“Is she lying to you,” he asks, posing it like Lata when he wants to ask something particularly perverse as a rhetorical. “Or are you not asking the right questions?”

Her fingers clench tight on her lap, linen rucking up between her fingers. She likes this far less than Lata’s. “Your Grace...”

Now his brows raise, shock stark on his face, “Yes, Miss Shirayuki?”

“Do you...?” The words stick in her mouth; to ask them is to admit defeat. No-- distrust. That the best interests everyone has been working towards are not her own. “Do you know where Obi is?”

I have seen no precious boy, the tiger lily trumpets, as proud as ever. Only a little girl loved by all who see her. How lucky she is to garner such attention!

I care not for me, the little girls mutters, impatient. Where do you think he has gone?

Away, away. The flower bobs beneath its own self-importance. He has been taken away. Down and gone and buried with the roses. Perhaps you are the better for it.

“No.” It’s the truth; he wouldn’t bother to lie to her. “As of now, his location is unknown, even to the king himself.”

She licks her lips, nails biting into her thigh. The orbia seed burns a hole in her hip. “Are they looking for him?”

A shadow ripples over his face, gone before she can follow it to its source. “Someone might be.”

“I mean Zen,” she clarifies. “Or Izana.”

“I know,” he replies, voice impossibly gentle from such a forbidding mouth. “I think we’re ready for the next course, don’t you?”

Innocence and ignorance, truth and illusion, trust and betrayal-- we have meditated upon each, as if they are but separate concepts that can be held to the light and have each facet revealed in turn. But surely you seen that they have all brought us here, to this part, to this singular place: a knife buried in a breast, a garden made into a cage. A girl in each, who has finally seen the truth beneath the illusion.

We should rejoice, should we not? For these girls who might free themselves, might heal themselves? But yet you do not, do you? For you know the trick of it:

A wound does not truly begin to bleed until the blade is removed. And a girl like this--

Ah, her hand is already at the hilt.

For once, Shirayuki is relieved that it is her round-faced guard that awaits her and not a more experienced one. Or worse yet, Kiki, who would anticipate her before she could get a word in edgewise.

But luck is on her side; this dear boy springs from his place on the wall, every muscle tense with anticipation, quivering to do his duty, and she-- she is ready to take advantage of it.

“Ready, my lady?” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, a hound eager to be given his leash. “It’s off to the ballroom next, isn’t it? With Master--?”

“Not today,” Shirayuki informs him swiftly. “I need you to take me to the king.”

The color leaches from his face. “The...the k-king?”

She nods, tight, officious. The sort Lady Mihoko gave her maids; the sort that belonged alongside a command obeyed.

“But, my lady...” He shuffles on his feet, loath to disappoint her. “Don’t you need an appointment to see His Majesty? I don’t think you can just go right in and--”

She’s already walked past him, chin held high. “He’ll see me.”

It may seem humble before the dawn, its petals as rumpled as bedsheets, drawn over its head like a child-- but when the sun casts its fiery crown over the garden, it is the convolvulus that is ascendant. It needs no dazzling pattern, no fanciful pinwheel of petal and sepal to make itself stand above its floral brethren, but only purity of color. For there is no other here that is so purely white, that has a color so simply blue. The tiger lily might roar among the plots, but it is to the convolvulus it bends, when it rises from its nightly slumber.

The little girl watches as the sleep falls from its petals, witness to its splendor. What, it asks, ruffling its delicate mane, could have made you seek me out, girl?

There is a not-insignificant portion of her life that has been spent waiting; not in the way of most of her colleagues-- for water to boil, or a titration to drip, or even for a letter of acceptance to arrive-- but for men with nothing else to recommend them but birth to decide they’re bored enough to receive the royal pharmacist. Shidan had called it fundraising and Kazaha glad-handing, but Shirayuki can admit now, as she flies past Izana’s steward, leaving him and her guard in her wake, what it really is:

Insulting.

The view always arrests her when she enters the royal solar, and this morning is no different; the sun setting, finishing its bright arc through the sky, but the angle of it, with the windows as they are-- it sets the king’s hair alight, a halo burning.

A target, she names grimly; and she the arrow. With his steward calling her name behind her, she takes a determined step toward him.

“Have you not heard then?” Izana asks, hardly bothering to look up from his papers. “I already approved your request to be excused from dinner.”

Shirayuki hauls up short, skirts swishing around her ankles. “Dinner?”

“Yes.” His brows raise, as does his gaze, already bored. “My brother already spoke about at length this morning. So if you seek to move me as well, please note that I have already stepped aside.”

“I...” She blinks. “I wasn’t here for that.”

Interest sparks in his eyes, quick as a struck match. “Then by all means, scold away. At least--” his mouth quirks, too amused-- “I assume that is your intention, marching into my office unannounced as you are.”

“Forgive me.” The steward presses a hand to his heaving breast. “Mistress Shirayuki--”

“It a force of nature,” his master replies, mouth curling like parchment corners. “So I have often had occasion to find out. You may leave us.”

“Your Majesty--” Izana merely lifts his brows, and the man stutters to a stop. “Of course. As you wish.”

“Now,” he hums as the doors close. “Just which wind sent this storm spinning into my office?”

Bound here you might be, but I know the trick of this place, the girl says, kneeing at the bed’s edge. What roots grow here touch the roots of all the morning’s glory. And you who wake with the sun-- you keep the closest watch on the horizon.

If there are any in the garden who know of my precious boy, she continues, the breeze rippling the convolvulus’s ruff. It would be you. So tell me, please...have you see him?

“It’s Obi,” she admits, heat stinging her cheeks. “I want to know the, er, status of the search.”

Izana blinks.

Oh, how kind it would be if this confusion was feigned, if it were all just a show to drag out her loyalties; to force her to admit that even if Zen was her heart, she could not turn her back on her home. That this was simply another moment where she would show him that friendship was strength, and the walls he erected himself were merely a folly.

But there is no smug satisfaction buoying his words when he asks, “The search? Didn’t Sir Obi leave my brother’s employ months ago? The beginning of the summer, I believe--”

“He didn’t quit,” Shirayuki insists, even as the seed weighs heavy between her skirts. “He disappeared, and Zen said he had put men out to search for him.”

A flower has no face, but the girl need no smile, no hooded eyes to discern the sorrowful bent of its stem.

I am but the morning’s glory, the convolvulus sighs, and when the night comes, I fold myself tight. Your boy does not pass me in my waking hours, so perhaps it is that he travels in the night.

But what does that mean? asks the girl. Why would he only travel at night? He is but a boy, a boy, and he walks in day.

The convolvulus is quiet, swaying in the garden’s eternal summer. I do not know, he admits. I do not know at all.

“Ah.” His eyes soften, no longer the unrelenting velvet of the night, but the waves of deep water, and Shirayuki finally has cause to find out: to experience Izana’s pity is a thousand times worse than his disdain. “I am not privy to the movement of my brother’s men, so long as I do not need them in attendance. He must not have put in his last report...”

“Please.” Her hand flies up between them, earning her an incredulous lift of a brow. “It only makes it worse that you are being decent about it.”

His laugh surprises her. “So you’d like me to gloat?”

“No.” Her breath saws out of her, great heaves that shake her shoulders. “I want you to grant me leave to find him.”

“You?” His brows raise, even his eyes widen, but to his credit, he does not ask, but what could you do? Instead his mask settles back over his face without a ripple, the king staring out from behind it. “It would be a waste. I have heard from your tutors that you are making good progress. Lady Mihoko even ventured to say you might make a passable princess, if you pushed out an heir fast enough.”

Her mouth twitches. Only yesterday, she would have nearly fainted with relief, but today-- “What praise.”

There’s a stern tilt to his mouth, a forbidding set to his eyebrows; if she didn’t know any better, Shirayuki would call it concern. “As I recall, our agreement did address this.”

“Then you mean...?”

“Yes.” He nods, splaying his palms across his desk, almost as if he were bracing himself. “If you leave the palace grounds, you forfeit your chance to be the one at my brother’s side. A princess leaves such things in the hands of her guardsmen--” his mouth twitches-- “and her husband.”

You want her to go, do you not? Even now you quiver at the edge of your seat, begging this little girl to open her eyes, to keep them open, to see through the illusion and run as fast as she can. You want her to leave the garden, to break through the last of this enchantment and leave safety behind.

But tell me, what would you do, with the knife quivering it in your chest? To forget it is to live with the pain. To remove it is to be free.

An easy choice, you might say. Who could live with a blade in their breast? Ah, but do not forget:

There is no way to know if the wound is fatal until the knife is removed.

“There is something I wonder, Mistress Shirayuki.”

His musings shatter the brittle silence between them; that fragile bulwark that has kept her in his skin. Now that it’s gone, she trembles, every muscle in her body fighting the urge to cross the king’s study and shake him until decency falls it.

A hopeless quest if there ever was one. “Is there something else you could possibly say to me?”

She says it sweetly; most would hear only that-- the tone rather than the content. But Izana has not sat so long on his father’s throne by being that sort of man; no, his mouth curls, amused.

“No. It’s only...” he hums, gaze lifting from his paper. “I wonder when you started to think Obi left.”

Then what do you know? the girl says, anger and bile rising in her tone. What good are you?

A flower cannot smile, but she feels teeth when it replies, I know that it will cost you, and cost you dear.

Izana might as well have struck her. Shirayuki rocks back on her heels, only just catching herself before she trips over her own hem. “I-I...what do you...?”

“When you came in here, you first talked as you had before.” Long fingers knit beneath his chin, though he does not deign to rest on them, not alert as he is. A cat before a kill, still toying with with the prey between his paws. “You insisted on his disappearance-- the implication being, of course, that you deny his own agency in his departure. Kidnapping or coercion, one might say.”

She cannot see its teeth, but Shirayuki isn’t so foolish to believe there is no trap. “Y-yes..”

“But now you come to me and ask after my men.” His mouth quirks. “You ask for my permission.”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” she asks, fingers clenching in her skirts. “A princess wouldn’t depart without the approval of her liege.”

“Of course.” He waves a hand, as if all those rules she spent late nights learning mean nothing at all, as if they were worth less than the paper on which they had been printed. “A princess would. But you, Miss Shirayuki, you--” his eyes spark, the way she only saw that night in Lilias as he closed the gates-- “you jump from windows. You follow a flower into a cave. If you truly believed your companion in danger, I doubt there is a single promise that would keep you by my side.”

She cannot breathe, let alone hazard an answer. Not when even a flutter of an eyelash could give her away.

“Which begs the question, doesn’t it?” His gaze fixes her to where she stand, pins through a moth’s wings. “Just what reason would make him leave?”

Me? the girl cries, already thinking of her lovely red shoes, of the boat they bought her down the river. Why me?

Because my dear, the convolulus hums. It is your fault that he has left.

The doors swing open, and the steward steps inside, sparing her an infuriatingly smug glance. “Sir Lowen, Your Majesty.”

“A moment,” the king tells him, “Mistress Shirayuki and I are nearly done her.”

The man nods. “I will tell him to await your will.”

Shirayuki blinks. “What--?” It’s trial to catch her breath, to make her heart stop pounding in her breast. “What is Mitsuhide doing here?”

“You need an escort to your dinner, do you not? I thought he would be the most palatable option for you.” Izana fixes her with a meaningful look. “I do hope you find your answers, Mistress Shirayuki.”

You don’t know me. Obi’s gaze is raw in her memory, too gold. You don’t know anything about me.

You know how he is. Zen’s smile curls at the edges, brittle, like parchment pasted to vellum. Obi has always come back on his own before.

Zen will take care of it. Mitsuhide won’t meet her gaze. I’m sure Obi will be back any day now.

“Don’t worry.” It’s a miracle that the words don’t catch between her teeth, the way she’s clenching them. “I will.”

A hand wraps around a hilt. A breath shudders. And with one, swift tug--

The blade moves but an inch.

#obiyukiweek21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #All That Remains #snow queen au #ans #YET ANOTHER CHAPTER #WHERE I DO NOT REACH THE END OF THIS PART #it's coming guys #really it is...#...one day....#but at least you get this small glimmer of hope #FOR NOW

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