#spent most my childhood here and its the only place i find solace

[ahoonterisahoonter]

Horror In The Hills, Chapter 1

I've never shared my writing publicly, but I just finished NaNoWriMo and I thought I'd give it a shot. So, here's the first chapter of my new novel.

Happy Hills is perhaps one of the most poorly named establishments in history. For one thing, it is built into a mountain over two miles above sea level, an elevation that no sane person would refer to as a hill. Secondly, no happy thing has ever occurred in, around, or in relation to Happy Hills. It is a sad and lonely place, where people come to drink deeply of their own sorrows and find no solace. Every small town has a heart: a building, institution, or family that typifies the place and around which it organizes. Happy Hills is that heart for Learston, Colorado. The rest of the town is just as sad, lonely, and booze-soaked, a true cesspit of despair. Despite its height, Learston seemed to be a deep pit into which the pathetic drained, never to be free again. This was the environment into which I was born.

Everyone I knew from my earliest memories was a drunk. My father went to Happy Hills every night, and eventually made it home about half of them. On those occasions when I did see him, he was nothing more than an empty husk of a man. He died in a car accident when I was ten, and it barely felt like I’d lost anything, so slight was his presence in my life. My mom was a much more functional alcoholic, who managed to maintain a veneer of sobriety during most of the day. Only as the sun went down did she truly indulge, washing away any thought or feeling and leaving me alone in the night. Just eight months after my father’s accident, she succumbed to cirrhosis of the liver. My uncle, two cousins, and several childhood friends have all been consumed by drink, each meeting some alcohol-related death.

I say all this, not to disparage my town, and certainly not to sully the memories of my deceased relations, but simply to give the reader an insight into the mindset of my youth. I saw nothing but a long slide into depression and drinking, ending in accident or overdose. The reader may, perhaps, then better understand my feelings when the Franklin party came to Learston. Here was a different vision for my future. Here were adults that were healthy, hopeful, athletic, accomplished, and most importantly to my young self, free. That is why I have been for so many long years obsessed with their case, their disappearances and deaths. For me, that group of hikers represented a new path in life, a different way forward. It opened my eyes to the possibilities of life, and ultimately set me on the path to leaving Learston for a better life than any that awaited me there. To contrast these beacons of hope and promise with the actuality of their grisly demise, it set my mind at odds with itself, leaving in me a rift that I’ve spent a lifetime trying to heal.

This book is the culmination of that journey, and I will warn the reader that it contains fewer answers than I would have liked. However, it does bring to light many things that were previously unknown, and it weaves together a more cohesive understanding of what happened. Ultimately, the truth cannot be fully known. The only ones who can tell the story are the hikers of the Franklin party themselves. Still, I am not entirely a stranger to the tale. I was wrapped up in it nearly from the beginning, and this book is in many ways the story of my journey to discovering the truth as much it is about the hikers themselves. This is the story of the Horror in the Hills.

1

As with any good story, it is important to begin with an understanding of our principal characters. Most treatments of this subject begin with the group’s eponymous leader, Adam Franklin. I, however, will diverge from tradition and start by introducing the town of Learston. At the time these events occurred, no reports paid much mind to the town, it’s only connection to the party being their brief stay there before heading deeper into the woods. This made some sense then, but any further investigation makes it obvious that Learston is key to understanding what happened.

Learston, Colorado was founded in 1899 by Timotheus Lear. Or, rather, it was founded in his name. Timotheus never actually stepped foot in Learston, nor is there any record that he even traveled west of the Mississippi. More accurately, the town was founded under the supervision of Roger Stevenson, the foreman of the T. Lear and Sons iron mill. The mill was the original heart of Learston, the original bait that trapped the ancestors of many of the town’s modern day prisoners. From the first, the TL&S was an attractor of misfortune and ill news. Less than a year after the mill began operations, two workers were killed in a molten spill. One of them, an unidentified man in his late 30s, was completely buried and burned away to nothing in an instant. The other was less fortunate: Wan Shi Long, a recent Chinese immigrant, had his legs caught in the flow. Others rushed to his aid and pulled him free, but everything below his mid-thighs had been consumed by the fiery metal. Another day and a half passed before he eventually succumbed to his injuries, a period in which he never ceased to rant and scream about a dark presence that caused the spill. Official investigations determined the spill had been caused by a malfunctioning hinge, which had broken and dropped a vat of iron. TL&S was found not to be at fault.

Although that incident had cast a pall over the new endeavor, it continued to grow. This development was rather shocking to many experts who had been consulted regarding the mill. It had been determined long before a single hammer ever struck rock that there wasn’t enough iron in this remote area to justify the mill’s placement. Their assessment seemed born out by the mill’s poor financial performance and pitiful output. Still, it grew. In 1899 there were 22 workers living in makeshift shacks scattered haphazardly around the central building. Just three years later, in 1902, the mill employed over 200 workers. An additional 400 people had moved into the area, including wives and children. In that time, four more workers were killed in three separate incidents, with TL&S being found not liable for any.

Timotheus died in the tail end of 1902, and his son Matthew took over. Matthew took a much more hands-on approach to managing the Learston mill than his father. Despite its position as the least productive of TL&S’s many ventures, Matthew moved to the remote town, where he lived out the rest of his life. Under his guidance, the mill’s, and by extension the town’s, prospects seemed to brighten. Nearly a decade passed without any major injuries. The town continued to grow in this period, albeit at a much slower rate than the first few years, peaking at a high of 1,237 citizens in 1910. If one were to stop studying the history of Learston in this year, they may predict its fortunes to follow a similar trajectory to countless other similar towns scattered across the American West. Perhaps it would continue as it had, amassing more business and citizens to patronize them, or perhaps it would falter and fade out of existence, with its inhabitants at the last leaving for somewhere that fell in the former category. Learston, however, was not like those other places.

1911 was an especially bad year. The winter seemed especially brutal, accompanied as it was by a wave of illness that claimed nearly one sixth of the population. During February of that year, an avalanche destroyed the only road leading down the mountain. This essentially cut the small town off from the outside the world, isolating an already suffering people. It was during this trying time that a strange aspect of the region was first noted: there seemed to be a great dearth of fauna. Hunters tried their best to provide for the starving town, but they were unable to catch much of anything beyond a few small rabbits and squirrels. Elk and deer, notably, were completely absent from the area. The hunters were, however, able to bring in an abundance of birds in a variety of species; a variety that was not only surprising for an alpine winter, but that was unexpected for that part of the country at any season. The road was repaired and reopened in May, which was the last good thing to happen to Learston. Not one month later, the TL&S mill exploded. The official story was that a large store of dynamite that had been purchased for mining but never used was stored safely underground, but flecks of molten iron had, over time, bored holes down to it. Something got through one of these holes and ignited the dynamite, claiming the entire mill and all 300 workers on duty at the time, including Matthew Lear.

With the town’s heart destroyed, this would be the normal time for the town to die off, as widows and the unemployed fled for safer harbors, starving off the businesses that had sprung up to support them. Learston persevered. 1911 saw the opening of the Happy Hills bar, which has limped along ever since. A few families did move out, but the vast majority remained. The historical record is unclear as to how the stalwart Learstonians made a living with no industry to speak of in the area, but they pushed on. In this way, Learston continued. A sad main street has a few rundown businesses, but most of the town’s inhabitants are unemployed. Only six people moved in over the next 60 years, and nine moved out. All the rest of the population’s fluctuation is attributed solely to the two portals through which we all must pass.

So it was that, in 1971 when the Franklin party arrived at Learston, the town looked nearly identical to its turn-of-the-century predecessor. It would, however, not remain that way for long.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #nanowrimo

[enmy-writes]

Just Let Me Help You

Summary: Zuko, trying to keep is girlfriend safe, unintentionally gains the trust of the Gaang after a showdown with Combustion Man.

Word Count: 2728

Fandom: ATLA (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Pairing: Zuko x Fem!Reader

Genre: Mostly fluff, is fluff-angst a thing? Idk guys I’m soft, you tell me.

Rated: 18+

Content Warnings: Profanity, some gore graphics (brief mentions of blood, killing, murder), uhhhh that’s it I think I’m sorry if I forget anything else.

****Huge shout-out to my friends Kenz and Jenna for editing this and hyping me up. Hopefully, since this semester from Hell will be over soon, I’ll be able to write more. Please request things! Thank-you all for supporting this and let me know more of what you want to see in the future :) Also, feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!****

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They had landed the war balloon days ago, stalking the tired and defeated Team Avatar and trying to figure out how the complicated Fire Prince would convince the people he chased for months that he wants to help them now.

(Y/N) was stoking the hot flame provided by the fire bender, making sure the coals were burning a cherry red before she added leaves and herbs into a pot to make a stew for the two to enjoy. Her eyes followed Zuko as he paced back and forth, practicing what he was going to say when he finally decided to confront the rebel group, lips turned upward in an amused smirk.

“Hey, Zuko here…” she heard him say before he started rambling a bunch of nonsense about his past; from his discovery, to Azula, to his father-- all the tragic topics. It took him about three minutes, but he finished with a hopeful look in his direction.

“Well?!” He clenched his fists at his side in a nervous gesture, only wanting to get this right.

The girl on the log cleared her throat before speaking, obviously hiding her laughter from the sensitive boy. “Well… it’s perfect. I especially liked the ‘Hey, Zuko here’ part. I’m sure that Aang and his friends with be very pleased to finally learn your name instead of thinking you’re called ‘Angry Ponytail Hotman’.’’

He groaned loudly, rubbing his eyes with clenched fists. The melodic laughter from his companion tempted him to give up his quest and just run away with her and live a happy life free of his father and his destiny… whatever that may be.

Still laughing, (Y/N) stood from her log by the fire and made her way to Zuko, coming up behind him. Her arms slid right around his slim body, holding on tight as she tried to pull his mind from the depths of his insecurities.

“Zuko, love.” Her voice is soft, but intense. “Just go down there. I won’t lie, they might not take you right away. You have done a lot of damage to them and their goals.”

His warm hands slide down the tops of her forearms and slide between her chilled fingers, entwining them together as Zuko grips her like she’s holding him down on the land they’re on.

“I… I just…” He struggles to get his feelings out, finding it hard to convey how he feels even to the girl wrapped around him.

She shushes him. “I know.” Is all she says, as they stand there in a momentary comfortable silence before she detaches from him to continue dinner.

____________________________

Zuko had told her to stay behind, that he’d be back to either get her or because he failed to convince the group that he came to support them, instead of harm them.

“Zuko! I could easily be an alibi for you. A reason for them to trust you!”

“No. End of story. They could attack me and you’re in Fire Nation clothes. You’re staying here.”

A staring match between the two only lasted a few seconds, but (Y/N) let it go; remembering Iroh’s advice that sometimes the boy has to do what eases his mind to grow.

The empty pot gleamed an orange glow from the flames, a light in the dark woods that surrounded the two as they lounged by the fire.

(Y/N) was carding her fingers through the upset prince’s hair while he stared at the sky; confused. His emotions spilling onto (Y/N). He didn’t talk much about the encounter, only enough to tell her that they wouldn’t be helping the Avatar defeat his father anytime soon. Rather than pressure him, she offered her solace with calming actions rather than words.

The two had met in their early childhood, (Y/N)’s father being the leader of the Yuyan Archers and of course the Fire Lord wanted the talented girl to meet his… troubled son. In hope that she could help bend his son into the ruthless leader the nations needed to proceed him. Though they didn’t see each other as much as they should have due to (Y/N)’s schooling, the two quickly became close friends and were often found with Lady Ursa quietly running around the palace grounds.

His banishment led to (Y/N) perfecting her skills, and becoming the master she was destined to be, given there was no more distraction. No one could understand her in the way that Zuko did— they fit together like they were made for one another. Where he was hotheaded, she was cool; Where he was nimble and direct, she was resourceful and hidden. The two were the perfect set of opposites who ultimately balanced each other. And one without the other was a heartbreak everyone could see.

When she heard the news of his return, she rushed to the palace; radiant as ever. In an instant, the two fell back into where they left off;  barely any words needed between the two. Her fingers and lips had trailed over his scar often in those few days, brushing away the tears and insecurities that came with it.

Leaving the Fire Nation with Zuko wasn’t even a debate in her mind. She was tired of the life of lies and torment that her nation inflicted upon the world. She had spent the last two years relocating and rebranding people who were targets to the Fire Nation. In total, about one hundred innocent lives were saved from her dangerous missions. Her skill level was better than even her father’s, and she prided herself in her abilities. (Y/N) was truly a professional in her art with the eye of an eagle.

When she caught Zuko writing a letter to her with packed bags on his bed, she instantly went into the shadows and caught up with the boy easily, hiding in the balloon behind the engine for a while until it was too late for him to turn back. It was hot and the most uncomfortable thing she has ever done, but she regrets none of it. She joked with the boy; how did he not question a pile of fabric behind the piece of equipment that holds fire? She let it go after he hugged her close and cried for a while.

“Don’t do that shit again, Zuko.” Her voice was stern, though her voice stern, she held him close. She ghosted her fingers over his tense shoulders; the shoulder that carried such burdens. She pressed her fingers into his shoulders; trying her best to rub the tension from his body. 

“I won’t. Never again. Don’t leave me, I need you.”

A rustle of leaves and broken trees in the forest near the edge of their little camp put the two into defense, instantly gripping her perfectly crafted bow and quiver. Her ears pricked at a slight movement and she aimed her bows in the direction of the noise without even looking. Suddenly, green clothes fill the area as a younger girl makes her way into the clearing. Startled, Zuko sends a wave of fire towards the intruder, burning the girl.

Everything happened fast.

(Y/N)’s left foot—her plant foot—sunk into the ground and twisted inward, releasing a loud crack into the air. The Earth girl was long gone now; Zuko had been screaming at himself when he heard the cry of pain and the sickening noise that left the lips of his girlfriend.

The earth has released its hold on her, but the damage was done. She kneeled, trying to hold back tears but failing as they kept streaming down her face in a pain response. Zuko’s own eyes filled with tears as he ran over to her, helping her sit down and take the tension off of it.

The joint was already beginning to swell, black and blue and purple and yellow starting to show up in swirls around the area. Zuko carefully tried to feel the injury, barely touching the girl in fear of hurting her more. (Y/N) sighed, pushing his fingers away and ignoring his protest. She rotated her foot outward, cringing at the pain, but crying out when she turned it the other way. Zuko cupped his hands around her ankle, hands heated slightly to hopefully alleviate the pain.

“Baby… it’s okay—”

“No, you’re hurt! I knew this would happen!” He cuts her off with a panicked yell. (Y/N) places her hands on the sides of his face, forcing his eyes upon hers with a slight wince of discomfort.

“It’s most definitely, at worst, a fracture. I can still move it outwards without a lot of pain. It’s, like, a week off my foot at most and then another week with a splint and a crutch. I am okay, Zuko.” They stared at each other for a solid minute, saying nothing.

"Promise?" Zuko whispered.

"You think I would lie to you, Zuko?" She says as she wraps her pinky his for good measure

They turn in not too long after, (Y/N)’s ankle wrapped up in some extra clothes for stability. Zuko’s arms hold her to his chest as they slip off into the world of dreams.

_________________________

Oh shit. She thought from her perch on top of the cliff edge. The assassin that they have also been trying to find has been blowing up the place, really testing the stability of the edge of the cliff in shakes after shakes like an earthquake. Zuko had told her to stay at camp, but unfortunately for Zuko; (Y/N) was never that good at listening to commands.

She was sitting down, watching the Avatar, his friends, and her boyfriend try to figure out how to win this fight against the combustion bender, feet dangling over the edge. She didn’t want any pressure on her foot from standing on it; settling for the dull throbs of pain coming from the force of gravity alone.

Some third eye. (Y/N) thought to herself as she watched her boyfriend get too close to being blown off the edge of the cliff, wincing. She quickly strung her bow, aiming it at the man. She smirked, a devious smirk, and aimed it in a precise location.

Zuko was still trying to talk the man out of it when suddenly, his eyes went blank and the grossest sound he has ever heard reached his ears. Everyone watched the man, confused as to why he just stopped. It’s not until red trails down his forehead and around his nose in a slow trickle that they look at his eye.

In the middle of the red eye, that at one point seemed indestructible; an arrow sat; a perfect shot — his perfect shot. "Bullseye!" (Y/N) howled, her voice resonating in his ears.

In the midst of Zuko's panic, he failed to recognize the cliff he was standing on becoming increasingly unsturdy; turning he locked eyes with the archer. A ghost of a smile graced her lips, pride radiating off of her. Though he was angry, he couldn't help but share her pride. He locked eyes with his girlfriend who was sitting nonchalantly on the cliff edge above them all, waving nonetheless, when he told her to stay back. It’s then that the earth beneath him rumbles and falls, taking him with it.

“Zuko!” She screams, jumping to her feet; a loud crack coming from her ankle, buckling under the pressure and bringing her to her knees.

With a hobble in her step, (Y/N) climbed down the cliffside. The tears ran down her face at a ferocious pace, making her way over to the cliffside, a loud sob relented from her mouth as she saw Aang helping Zuko up over the edge of the cliff. 

"Spirits, Zuko!" She breathed, limping her way over to him and hugging him tight. "I should kill you, you fucking idiot!" She sobbed, pulling him into her chest. 

Zuko huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He took deep breaths, calming his nerves from his near death experience; he focused on the feeling of her hand carding through his hair to grip it tight, and the hold on his shoulders. As he calms down, he remembers that he told her to stay put; and he sharply pulls away.

"I told you to stay at camp!" He huffed, "I told you I was coming back for you!”

She scoffs pushing on his forehead with two fingers. “In case you have forgotten, Zuko, I have authority issues. If I weren’t here, who would be saving your stupid royal ass? No one! You’re welcome, by the way. He wasn’t going to negotiate, Prince Pouty, and you and everyone else here is no good to the world dead.”

“You—You---You could’ve been hurt! (Y/N)! Or worse!” His protest was a whisper, trying to make the scene more private as he’s aware of the crowd around them.

“Zuko, love, I can handle myself. I’m a master at my craft--.”

"—your craft of carelessness, you could've been killed—"

"—but I wasn't Zuko!"

"That's not the point." His voice stern, making it clear that the conversation was done for now. (Y/N) simply nodded, pulling away from him and fixing her clothes.

Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka watched the two as they argued; watching as they continuously tried to out-care the other. They watched as the two eventually stopped arguing, instead remained staring, as if daring each other to speak

“That was a ... nice shot? I guess?" Aang spoke, clearing his throat and drawing the couples attention to him. "He's definitely you know, dead."

(Y/N) smiles at the boy. “Thank you, Avatar, for helping save this dumb ass from falling off a cliff.” She gets up and bows to him. Zuko suddenly picks her up, the world turning sideways as he put her bridal style in his arms.

“Stop putting weight on your ankle!”

“I’m literally showing respect to the person who just helped you, is that a crime?”

“What if you break your ankle so much that you have to cut it off.”

“Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Okay well you were first when deciding to sit on the edge of a cliff with a broken ankle.”

“You’re right! Sitting is dangerous. Next time, I’ll make sure to stand so at least I’ll have a better chance of reacting if the cliff side starts falling from under me. Oh wait, you were standing, and you still fell.”

Zuko sets her down on a broken rock that’s suitable enough for her to sit on. “Will you just shut up already and let me help you.” He reaches for her ankle, but she moves it from his grasp. Their eyes meet again and narrow in competition.

A mess of limbs as the (Y/N) evades the grip of Zuko, occasionally slapping his hands away if they get too close.

Sokka tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth. “Is he—is he actually caring for someone?”

Aang nods. “I think? I don’t know, they’re kind of fighting a lot.”

Toph cringes, “Guys, I think it was me who hurt her in the first place. Last night at their camp. Zuko instantly stopped trying to help me when I heard her scream.”

“Guys… I think I’m supposed to let him be my master. I mean, he did just risk everything to save us.” Aang says, eyes locked on the one member who he cares more about than anyone.

Katara, still holding off on agreeing, looks to the two Fire Nation kids again.

“Ow! You bit me! Are you crazy?!” Zuko yells, shaking his left hand out.

The stranger girl laughs cheerfully. “Only crazy for you, stupid.”

And a phenomenon occurs. Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation blushes and looks down at the ground, a huge smile on his face.

“I hate you.” Is all he says.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Katara, seeing the humane side of the prince, finally lets her guard down and walks over to them. Zuko’s eyes widen at her proximity, but the water tribe girl holds his gaze.

“I’ll heal the girl if it gets you two to shut up. And you have to find dinner for tonight.”

Katara’s eyes widen again at the sight of the crying prince who suddenly bows to her feet, thanking her with his whole heart. He then turns to his smiling girl beside him and pulls her into a hug.

“Thank you, (Y/N). For everything.”

“I’ll always help you… stupid.”

#zuko #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #avatar zuko #atla x reader #atla #fanfic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla fanfic #atla x you #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #x reader #enmy-writes atla

[httpsohnpouts]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧. | 𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: royal!younghoon x lady’s maid!fem reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: angst but not really + fluff // enemies to friends

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: younghoon’s a bit sassy/socially awkward but nth too extreme

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.5k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: happy (belated) birthday my beaby @chaoticdeobi, ily endlessly, i hope you like it! i hope you had a great day!

the hall was grand, to say the least. the walls painted in the finest mix of white tie and matchstick; but to any common eye, the paint was just simply cream. portraits of the family’s ancestors hung perfectly on said walls, golden plaques engraved with their names and the years from birth to death, situated just below them.

you could say the hall was the largest part of the building but yet, younghoon was always found hiding away in the undercroft. his time well spent at the very end, paintbrush in hand as he delicately placed the brush onto the canvas, an elegant piece forming in its wake; finding comfort and solace in the peace that he got, a break from his reality, hence why his father had gifted him the space and the utensils for his twelfth birthday.

a slight sigh left younghoon’s slightly ajar lips of concentration, brows knitting together as he couldn’t quite get the right angle of his paintbrush, “it won’t work if you’re holding it so awkwardly.” it took the man by surprise, spilling his water pot over his fresh set of white trousers, nobody ever wandered into his space during the day as the staff working in the castle feared him and his intimidating gaze nor did they ever sneak up on him upon knowing of his tendency to become scared easily.

fury burning in his eyes as his fresh whites absorbed more and more of the tainted water as he sat there, whipping his head in the direction of the voice who stood behind him, arms folded and they leaned against the porcelain walls, legs crossed in a way that just screamed arrogance.

“excuse me, who the hell do you think you are sneaking up on a royal, did you not see the ‘do not disturb’ sign?” with a sigh, younghoon scurried to wipe off his trousers - not that it would do anything considering fabric isn’t waterproof and the damage was already done - huffing again, “oh, forget it. clean this up, i take it you’re a maid? now if you excuse me.”

it was dinner time now, and everybody knew that the king wanted the whole family to sit around the dining table together, occasionally discuss important business him and his wife had to deal with, or something they wanted younghoon to participate in against his will; but in his eyes, it was all apart of the family bonding.

“where’s mother?” younghoon asked as he adjusted his newly fixed hair, the constant puffing of breath out of his lips having messed it up. watching the kitchen staff busily prepare the table for their meal.

“one of the cleaning workers knocked over your mother’s glass of wine and it went all over her new gown. she’ll be down in a few- oh look, she’s coming here now.”

placing her palm upon her husband’s shoulder, younghoon’s mother took her seat at the dinner table, a familiar face following behind and standing to the side of the room with the other staff, you. you were his mother’s lady maid. if it were anybody else, he would’ve apologised for the tone he gave you earlier when he mistook you for part of the cleaning staff.. but what right did you of all people have spying on him in his private space?

“son? are you listening?” his father called to him, realisation hitting younghoon that he hadn’t stopped gaping at you since you walked in the room. adjusting his collar before prompting his father to continue speaking.

“as i was saying, your mother and i have to leave the country for a few days. you are in charge of taking care of your sister whilst we’re gone as well as the staff. we trust you with this son, don’t disappoint us,”

“oh and y/n, you will be staying here for the time being, your services aren’t necessary on this trip. you’ll be in charge of our daughter when younghoon is busy, understood?” whilst younghoon’s father was a kind and generous man, he definitely wasn’t the most respected man in the castle for no reason. his striking and powerful demeanour spread for miles, no one dared to disobey the king, not knowing exactly what he’s capable of but not wanting to find out either.

younghoon’s parents were gone for most of his childhood, along through his teenage years and then into his early adulthood. so it’s safe to say he grew up isolated and alone for most of his life. his only source of socialisation was when his sister was born seven years ago, when he was seventeen. they’re practically attached at the hip, wherever younghoon went, his sister followed and vice versa. his sister was mature for her age, much like younghoon himself, she had to learn how to take care of herself from an early age; that included knowing how to dress appropriately, know how to do her own hair and makeup for any special occasions the family hosted or attended to as well as the basics on how to behave as a royal should. the only difference between the siblings was that now, younghoon had responsibilities he had to take care of- preparing to be king once his father passes or if he steps down from the throne, maintaining a clean record as well as the constant fear of practically falling apart at the seams.

it wasn’t and still isn’t the ideal life for one to live, seeking his father’s approval and permission for pretty much everything he does. the burden weighing upon his shoulders just itching to make his knees buckle and collapse, making it hard for him to do pretty much anything “normal” like making friends or doing typical things you’d do in your twenties; it wasn’t that he liked people keeping their distance from him, nor the fact that everybody in the castle had their own misconceptions on him and his behaviour, all of which turn their topic of conversations onto him whenever he walks into the room.

it was a couple of days later when younghoon found himself sitting on the top of a hill just outside of the castle gates, observing the vast and majestic view that clouded the sky. the blue replaced by a faint red hue whilst the clouds floated aimlessly. the only sounds heard consisted of younghoon’s breathing, the small flow of water beside him and the odd bird that flew by every now and then. he can’t remember the last time he felt pure peace. everything being far too fast to keep up, like a black hole or a tornado, something you’re quickly swept up into until you completely disappear and break.

“they’re going absolutely mad looking for you in the castle, sir.”

you.

without sparing you a glance, younghoon let out a sigh, his shoulders tensing slightly at the thought of going back to the place that causes far too much stress.

unpropping yourself from a nearby rock, settling a comfortable space from younghoon, staring out at the landscape that looked like it just came out of a painting.

“what’re you doing here?”

“i came to find you, duh. they’re going sick at the thought of you having fled the country or something.”

“no, seriously. what’re you doing here?”

“contrary to belief, sir, but i actually want to be your friend. not your foe, regardless of how hard you try to push me away. don’t you ever get lonely in that big place?”

younghoon snickered at that, “you think you know me huh?”

“not at all. that’s why i’m saying i want to, i know what it’s like to have my childhood swept from between my feet, floating between self-doubt and uncertainty of what i’m going to do with my life and how i’m even going to do it on my own. i know far too well what it’s like to be alone my whole life, my parents either too busy preoccupied with work or too tired to spend time with me when they get home at the end of the night.”

for the first time, it felt like someone wasn’t pitying him, or mistaking his standoff-ish personality for something for malice and ill-intended. for the first time, he felt heard and understood.

“how about a restart?”

“huh?”

younghoon was turned towards you now, his hand extended to you, “hi. i’m younghoon. not prince younghoon, not sir, just younghoon.”

“nice to meet you, just younghoon, im y/n. i hope we can be great friends.”

#deobiwritersnet #the boyz #tbz #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz timestamp #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz drabbles #the boyz drabbles #tbz blurbs #the boyz blurbs #the boyz timestamps #younghoon #tbz younghoon #tbz younghoon x reader #the boyz younghoon x reader #younghoon x reader #the boyz younghoon #angst #fluff #royal!au #ladies maid!reader

[dreamiesdotcom]

careful (slow spin-off) | l.jn, n.jm

Summary: With Jaemin, things are just... a lot nicer. Lighter.

Word Count: 1.6k

"Hyuck, stop staring. Jaemin seems sweet and all, but he looks like he's ready to pick a fight," Mark groans then slouches at his chair.

Was he up making music again? Why is Mark so devoted to helping that guy? Jeno doesn't really understand.

He looks at Donghyuck, then to where he's staring at. He briefly recognizes Renjun and his friends, one of them with entwined fingers as Na Jaemin. That's the person Donghyuck has been staring at for the past fifteen minutes.

"Hyuck. Seriously, I don't think you even know his best friend's name."

"That lovely person right there, you see, is Y/N," Donghyuck proudly states. He scoffs, "Please, I don't go around flirting with strangers. "

Jeno returns a similar expression, momentarily bringing down his book. He tilts his head, "Well, have you ever hung out?"

He pauses, breathes one beat late, and then sighs. Mark sits up straight, steals a glance at the other side of the room, and then waits for Donghyuck's answer.

The sunkissed boy just shakes his head, "No."

There's just enough pause there, enough hesitance in his voice that he cannot be trusted. Instead of pointing that out, Jeno laughs, shrugs, and sets his eyes on his book. Whatever the hell it is that happened between pages 108 and 112, he doesn't understand at all.

Jeno tries to recall an old memory: he remembers being teamed up with Huang Renjun for a while because of a photography project. He remembers staying up late with the boy at a convenience store, editing pictures, and drowning in coffee.

They didn't talk much — the only time Renjun talked about something other than the task at hand was when he was pointing at the park across, and that brings him to the question; Why did Donghyuck lie?

"Let's just get out of here," Mark announces, drinking his coffee quickly.

Jeno absentmindedly collects his belongings as Hyuck blushes over whatever it is they heard that he didn't, and then stands up and heads for the door. He lets them walk first, then he watches for a while.

What is it exactly that brought him to this point?

"Careful..." were the words Mark drawled out to Jeno back then when they were much younger. Then, after that, he'd smile, "You look at Hyuck like you're about to fall. Careful, Lee Jeno."

But Jeno didn't need to hear that, not from Mark at least. He was responsible and rational, he thought things through before he dived deep — Mark does the same, but he's all blurs between safe and dangerous and the last thing Jeno needs is Mark telling him to be careful because the older's definition of careful is most people's careless. That was a piece of advice, though. Jeno should've listened.

Jeno didn't need Mark to tell him to watch himself before he falls, because he knows what's proper and what's not. It was out of his control that everything seemed right with Donghyuck.

###

What does blue taste like? Jeno read from that one time Mark's recent subject has left his notebook. He didn't mean to look at what doesn't belong to him, but the question has him curious enough.

The answer? It's something Jeno can't seem to get out of his mind.

What does blue taste like? Repeats the question. The answer comes in rough cursive, sloppy, and messy handwriting, as if the writer couldn't see through the emotions they felt as they scribbled out: For me, it's sometimes bitter, sort of sweet, and it's overwhelmingly strong. It's watching your friends fall in love with each other. It's falling in love with one of your best friends.

Sometimes it tastes like the orange juice you drink as you watch said best friend fall in love with somebody else, sour like the realization that it wasn't you he fell for when all you've done is crash to him.

And truthfully, the kid was weird, but he was adorable. He's tall, handsome, and he danced like he was born for it, so good that Jeno really wouldn't be surprised if he was, but he was shy and awkward and clumsy as well, far from the bubbly and confident people his best friend liked. He didn't see why Mark was so interested in this kid.

As he accidentally reads this page, however, he doesn't care for all of that. He just wonders how sweet smiles carry such heartaches, and maybe, he thinks of how similar they are .

He doesn't know what the hell it was that happened within those months his best friend — the one he's hopelessly in love with — shined brighter than the others, but right now he thinks he has a clue: playing the guitar side by side with Mark on Christmas Eve, watching Donghyuck kiss the love of his life under the mistletoe (which he manually holds above their heads) after singing that person a song he wrote for months. Jeno's pretty sure he doesn't need any context anymore. He just keeps on thinking about the excerpt he accidentally read from Park Jisung's notebook and then laughs along even if he doesn't understand anything going on.

He walks home that day without telling either Mark or Hyuck.

###

Na Jaemin was an occurrence that happened every now and then.

They were friends when they were younger, that's something he wouldn't deny. Somewhere around the room, he knows he still has photos with him laying around. It was a seasonal kind of friendship, and then the occasional kind as they grew up, until it was just... not there. He doesn't know what happened. They're in good terms, he knows that as they've worked on a task together before, but they've never really hung out like then.

Well, not until their best friends got together, at least.

Their circles just kind of merged after that Christmas. There wasn't much change in their routines; they still go on sleepovers, eat lunch together, walk home in groups. Only that this time, there are more people, and there's more laughter, and Jeno isn't looking wistfully at someone all alone.

Jaemin does the same.

It's kind of funny, really. These past few months, it feels like he's catching up to all those lost touches with Jaemin — he's the same weird guy he knew from childhood.

It was awkward at first but then before he knows it, they're all falling into their places like puzzle pieces. Before he knows it, months have passed and they've got closer and they're hanging out at his place, just the two of them, staring at the plastic stars on his ceiling. Unlike before, the unspoken feelings he has for Donghyuck only hurts a little.

With Jaemin, things are just... a lot nicer. Lighter.

"Jisung needs to stop leaving his goddamned notebook around," Jaemin complains, lowering the volume of his speakers so they could talk. Jeno rests his face on his palms, carefully watching the other boy. "He's great at writing but honestly, Jeno, I'm starting to feel guilty. I keep on accidentally reading his stuff and — I need to stop. Oh my God. He's working hard for that showcase and I'm here, peeping at his secret notebook!"

"Well, just ask him? You've been friends for a while now. You even said you basically raised him."

"Well, I did, but I wasn't even supposed to know about it, Jen."

Or maybe you are, Jeno thinks in his head, making some space on the bed for Jaemin who crawls right next to him. He sighs deeply, maybe you keep on stumbling around it because he hopes you'd see. Maybe he hopes you'd realize that he's in love with you.

They stay like that, quiet for a while. After ten minutes, Jaemin seems to fall asleep — he doesn't know when they grew close enough to doze off cuddling, but maybe it's just... always meant to be like this. They'd get their hearts broken and then they'd find solace with each other and they'd grow fond.

He thinks of Jisung for a little, and then he thinks of Mark. He's pretty sure Chenle could be thrown in the mix as well — he thinks of how he and Jaemin used to be part of that unspoken mess, too. Perhaps it's because something weird makes you fall in love with your best friend, like an odd charm. Or maybe it was just them.

These days, Donghyuck doesn't make his heart race as much — he gets excited, sure, seeing him and hanging out, but not for the old reasons. He's happy to see him. He loves him still, too, but it's a different kind of love — the kind he shares for Mark. The kind he's slowly starting to share with their newfound family.

Something changed, too. It felt like a new world after choosing to let his feelings for Donghyuck go, and it seemed like the past weeks, he feels something similar beginning to bloom.

When did it start? From the heartaches they shared stories about? The time they spent together? Did it begin from when they'd started hanging out again? He isn't really sure — all that he's certain about its that beside him, Jaemin looks peaceful and safe, and then Jeno muses to himself: "If you continue being like this, I might fall in love."

He could just hear Mark's voice right now — "Careful, Lee Jeno." — and he could just recall Jisung's hastily written words — 'You look at that person and you feel like you could conquer the world with one hand, but you choose to fall' — and oh, he could.

He could fall.

He's so sure of it — he could fall.

Later, when Jeno keeps his eyes closed at a failed attempt on sleep, Jaemin opens his and presses closer — "Please do."

#yellow tag 💛 #nct dream #jeno x jaemin #member x member #slow spin off #nct dream oneshots #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream blurbs #nct dream drabbles #jaemin x jisung #jeno x haechan

[soaimagines]

small worlds

an EZ Reyes Fanfiction

Chapter One

Pairing: Eventual Ez Reyes x Ilana Ortiz (OC)

Summary: When Ilana Ortiz left Charming she never thought she would be wrapped up in the life of another motorcycle club. But when she runs into an old friend she finds she’s already in deeper than she thought.

OR  Juice’s little sister falls for a Mayan

Word Count: 2238

Warnings: language, mentions of death, mentions of grief, trash writing? 18+ as always, soa spoilers? i guess. 

Authors Note: I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’ve finally written it. Thank you as always to my sweet friend @juniperjane for being my beta and reading through the dozens of drafts i sent u. u da bomb  

Disclaimer: i do not speak espanol, and try to use it sparingly and respectfully. if i have failed to do so please let me know, i mean no offense.

Tags: @minnicelli • @ifoundmyhappythought • @noz4a2 • @svintsandghosts • @rebel-without-cause-x • @i-shouldbepainting • @lady-pswrld • @spookys-girl • @multiyfandomgirl40 • @gemini0410 • @starrynite7114 7• @everyhowlmarksthedead

if you want to be added to the taglist let me know

There was always something slightly ominous about a gas station at midnight. A place that was usually hustling with travellers stocking up, refueling their tanks and heading off in search of their own adventures. But as the light of the day was replaced with the unrelenting darkness of night, Ilana Ortiz found herself alone, as she often did. She raised her hand, stifling a yawn as her gaze flickered to the petrol pump, eyeing the numbers as they rose. The hum of the pump pouring petrol into the tank of her car sputtered to a stop and she lifted the nozzle, shaking off the remains before returning it to the hook.

In the distance she heard them. Steadily growing louder as they approached. She knew the sound all too well, once the soundtrack of days spent in happiness all those years ago. The thunderous drone approached and she closed her eyes, basking in the memories that flooded her. Crashing into her mind like waves, dragging her out into the deep. Her fingers grasped the locket hanging around her neck and she took a deep breath as she opened her eyes. The breeze shifted, blowing a strand of dark hair across her face and she watched as they approached.

Half a dozen motorcycles, most of them low riders, spread out in a staggered formation as they thundered down the highway, with only the open road laid bare before them. One by one they sped past her, and Lana couldn’t help but think of them as ghosts from her past, the faces that would be forever etched into her memory haunting those of the strangers that rode before her now. The darkness of night hindered her ability to make out the patches on the riders backs, but they were there, their presence ever looming.

There was once a time where the presence of a motorcycle club had been a welcoming sight, surrounding her with a feeling of warmth and belonging, rather than the emotional sorrow that she felt deep in her soul. But those times were just memories now, chapters in a dark and lonely book that she didn’t have the strength to read again and so she closed it tight and left it to gather dust.

It took a few months for Ilana to settle into Santo Padre. Slowly, the shelves in her small apartment were filled with various ornaments that she gathered from local market stalls and thrift stores. While it was far from the apartment of Lana's dreams, it was affordable and in a reasonably good neighbourhood, and for now, at least, it was home.

She didn't have a lot of personal possessions, had never been one for materialistic items. There were only two things that she took with her wherever she went. The first, was the locket around her neck. Inside lived a black and white photo of her late mother, wearing a smile that had been passed on to her children. The second was a photograph, its edges frayed and worn. In it stood two siblings, matching smiles on their youthful faces as they stood beside each other, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Juan Carlos and Ilana Rose Ortiz.

For as long as she could remember it had been the two of them. After their mother passed away they only really had each other and when Juan had decided to leave Queens and move to California, Ilana had been right by his side.

There was something about the small town of Charming, and the people that lived there that beckoned to the Ortiz siblings. And it was there that they made a home. Ilana found a job doing admin work at the local hospital, whilst Juice worked at the local garage.

After a few months he had told her he was prospecting for the Sons Of Anarchy, and she hadn’t exactly been thrilled. It was a dangerous lifestyle, and she couldn’t lose the only person she had left in this world. Juan had tried to put her mind at ease. He told her they would be safe, that they would look out for him and he would look out for them. He told her they would be happy here. And they were, for a while.

Slowly this band of misfits and outlaws truly did become family, a concept that had once felt so foreign. They finally belonged somewhere, and they were finally happy. But nothing lasts forever.

She couldn't quite pinpoint the moment things went wrong. But something changed when the Sons of Anarchy did their fourteen month stint in Stockton State Penitentiary. Things were changing, and none of them could have predicted just how dark things would turn.

Soon, the club that had once seemed so solid, so welcoming, turned into something dark and bitter and it fell apart at the seams. The binds that tied them were thick with betrayal and mistrust and she could only watch as one by one they fell like dominoes.

Whilst Ilana had spent years in Charming, she never pretended to know all the ins and outs of the club's business. Nor did she want to know. She knew there were rules, and ways in which certain things had to be handled. But above all else, she knew her brother. And she knew he didn't deserve what happened to him.

After the loss of her brother, Ilana spent a long time in that first stage of grief. In denial that this world could be so horribly cruel. Everything she had ever known had been ripped from her and she didn't know what she was supposed to do next; The town was too small for all the ghosts that lived in it and everywhere she looked, she saw death and pain. Memories of once joyful times turned to rot. And so she left.

She spent the next few years travelling, never staying in one place too long. To some people it may have looked like she was running away from her pain and those people weren't wrong. But Ilana liked to think of herself as an explorer, living out the adventures she had read about in the books of her childhood.

Eventually she grew weary of living out of her suitcase, and she found herself homesick, yearning for a home that no longer existed. She found solace in the sunshine state, and when a job opportunity presented itself in Southern California she took it. She found herself an apartment, albeit a rather shitty one, but it was somewhere to live nonetheless and Ilana found comfort in having a consistent income and a familiar place to lay her head.

Ilana smiled at the market stall vendors as she passed them by, gazing over the varieties of fresh produce they displayed so vibrantly. She purchased a selection of vegetables and fruit, slowly filling the woven basket in her hands. A display of fresh mangoes caught her gaze and she looked them over, picking out the ones she would buy.

“Miss Ilana?”

At the mention of her name, she turned.

“Chucky?”

Chuck Marstein wasn’t a face that was easily forgotten. Although, it was probably more to do with his distinct lack of fingers and his mechanical hands than his actual face, which was often apprehensive.

Four years had passed since they had seen each other, and he was aware that the way in which they were once acquainted had been the root of her sorrow. He looked at her nervously, as if he expected anger from her. But that anger he had grown to expect from people didn’t exist in Lana, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Chucky!” The grin on her face matched his, her eyes sparkling with the threat of tears. “What are you doing here! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Since your brother's funeral.” He nodded.

Lana nodded along with him, finding slight amusement in Chuckys lack of filter. Most people tip-toed around the mention of her brother, but not him.

“You left Charming?”

“Si,” The sadness that flashed in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. But Lana knew all too well that things in that small town, and in that life, were often complex, and now wasn’t the time to pry.

“But you’re okay?” Lana asked softly. “You’re working?”

“Si, mamacita.Romero Brothers Scrap and Salvage yard. I am always working hard” He rolled his ‘r’s excessively and Lana smiled at the familiar rhyming, as if his sentence was his own catchphrase.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I got a job doing admin work in town. It's not much, but it pays the bills.”

His phone rang out loudly, and Chucky flashed her a look of apology.

“Yello?”

Ilana hid her smile as he answered the call, looking away to give him some privacy. They had been close once, back in Charming. She had spent a lot of time at the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse, helping out Gemma in the office as she needed it. More often than not she was paired with Chucky to run errands, and she had enjoyed getting to know him. He was quirky, in many ways, but he was a kind soul and all he really wanted was to belong, something which resonated with Ilana.

“Absolutamante,” He said, and ended the call.

“I have to go, Miss Lana. Duty calls.”

Lana nodded understandably and held out her hand. “Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in it.”

He nodded, handing the device over and watching as her fingers tapped at the screen.

“Give me a call when you’re free and we can get dinner or something. Catch up, properly.”

“Really?” He asked, in genuine disbelief. “You would want to?”

Lana smiled at him. “Of course, Chucky. You’ve always been one of my best friends.”

The smile that spread over his face was like that of a child on Christmas morning and Lana couldn’t help but beam back at him, her heart warming.

“I will call you, for dinner.”

“I look forward to it, Chucky.”

It wasn’t long before Ilana heard from Chucky again.

In fact it was only that same afternoon that her phone had rung and his voice was on the other end of the line. She was glad to hear from him, albeit a lot sooner than she had anticipated, but she invited him to her apartment for dinner nonetheless.

She was already out in town, and after spotting a sign that read ‘Carniceria Reyes’, she decided to pick up something to cook. With a glance in each direction she jogged across the road before entering the shop.

It was nearing closing time, and Ilana could see that most of the meat had been packed away, or purchased already. Her eyes scanned what was left on offer as her mind ticked over what she could cook, her abilities in the kitchen being far from expert.

“What can I get for you?”

Ilana glanced up and smiled warmly at the wizened man behind the counter. His smile was warm and welcoming, though the creases on his forehead told of worries, both past and present and there was a forlorn glaze in his twinkling eyes.

“Hi, I’ll just take a couple of those steaks, please?”

The man nodded and slid open the window at the back of the counter.

“How’s your day been?” Ilana made conversation as she glanced around the small store.

Her gaze fell on a selection of books and she smiled as she walked over to them.

He cleared his throat. “It’s been good, busy.” The man said as he packaged the meat. He watched her curiously as she studied the old books, and the delicate way in which she traced her fingers over the titles.

“Are these all yours?” She asked, as she carefully lifted a worn copy of Alejandra Pizarnik’s poetry. It had been well loved, made obvious by the creases on the cover, and the yellowed, dog eared pages.

“Most of them belonged to my wife.”

Ilana smiled as she studied the inscription scrawled inside the cover. It was in español, which she couldn’t read despite her Puerto Rican heritage, but she always found something magical in old books, especially those with messages of love or well wishes written inside the cover.

“She has quite a collection.”

The man smiled and nodded towards the book in her hands. “You’re welcome to borrow it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Please,” He smiled at her. “They should be read, not left here to gather dust and the smell of meat.”

Ilana laughed lightly and nodded, slipping the book carefully into her bag. “Thank you, uh?”

“Felipe.”

Her purchases were ready now, wrapped carefully in brown paper and he placed them on top of the counter.

“Thank you, Felipe.” She smiled as she handed him some cash. “I’m Ilana.”

“Please, keep the change.” She lifted the parcel in her hands as she headed to the door. “It was nice to meat you.”

Felipe chuckled and waved as she walked out of the shop, shaking his head at the interaction.

“Who was that?”

Felipe looked up to see his son EZ, the same smile on his face as he wore on his own, stepping out from the shadows.

“New customer.” Felipe said as he walked to the door and flipped the ‘open’ sign to closed. “Cmon, Jimenez will be here soon.”

Masterlist

#ez reyes x ilana ortiz #ez reyes x oc #ez reyes #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes fanfic #Mayans MC #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans #jd pardo imagine #jd pardo #soaimagineswrites #small worlds #felipe reyes #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz #samcro juice #samcro #sons of anarchy imagines #soaimagines #chuck marstein #chucky soa #chucky mayans mc

[nose-bandaid]

the fragility of a petal

do you have any plan to write a sequel for camellia? i really love the plot and hope the story could be developed a little bit more where they become official then something angst happen (idk maybe something like a thirdwheel? lol) but they'll figure it out anyway

prince!Shinwon x princess!Reader | royal kingdom AU fluff + a little angst | 3k words

sequel to: camellia

synopsis: you can only go for so long without another tedious party in your schedule, but thankfully this time, you have your fiancé shinwon by your side to keep things interesting. however, your childhood friend seems to be wedging themselves into the equation, and now someone seems a little jealous...

a/n: my camellia anon,, for you !! thank you for being so kind and patient, i hope that this is what you imagined:) i was also looking back on camellia and was like wow,, my writing was quite something back then huh. i’m not so sure why i used stage names so i fixed it up here (except for hui though i think of it as a nickname),, so i’m sorry for the inconsistencies! maybe one day i’ll go back and edit camellia cause i’m a little unhappy about it idkidk BUT NOT TO TALK ABOUT THAT I’LL SHUT UP LOL ily and i hope you enjoy this<3

===== You found this situation oddly familiar as you were once again, standing in front of the mirror, checking out your outfit before entering the party.

But this time Shinwon was standing by your side.

“You look beautiful love, I promise.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder to pull you towards the doors down the hallway. “Stop worrying about it.”

You frowned a little at his words but allowed him to guide you away from the mirror. “Sorry, it’s just a habit I guess. I’m going to be seen by a whole bunch of people after all.” Being the daughter of the hosting family also didn’t do any good in helping you escape from the countless people who wanted to meet you.

“Well, if you keep your eyes on me, I’ll give you all the compliments you need! Just ignore the others.” He quipped loudly with a wink and held the door open for you to enter the ballroom. The music was already echoing within the large room, people milling about, chatter all around you.

“Gosh, why did I fall in love with someone so cheesy.” You laughed as you headed towards a less crowded section in a nearby corner. It was always nicer to not be surrounded by people who didn’t seem to have a sense of personal space. But then again, if you were caught up in dancing and laughing, you probably wouldn’t have cared as much about that either.

You and Shinwon didn’t get too far into avoiding the attention when you heard someone loudly call out your name, competing with the strings who were beginning to play their minuet and trio. Your head swivelled around, trying to find the source of the voice, but all you saw was a mass of colourful clothing.

“Y/n!” The voice called again, and this time, it sounded much familiar.

“Changgu…?” You muttered under your breath, eliciting a hum of interest from Shinwon.

And sure enough, there was Changgu, dressed in a tux — which was a mix of cream and white that suited him well — rushing towards you with a wide grin. Behind him was his father, walking leisurely to eventually join you guys as well (though he stopped for a moment to grab a glass of wine). Without even giving you a chance to register the situation, Changgu engulfed you in a big hug, almost tipping you over with all the energy.

“Y/n! I’ve missed you so much! How have you been doing?” He exclaimed after he pulled away to scan your face, eyeing every single detail.

“I’ve been doing great!” You smiled back. “How about yourself?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old.” He rolled his eyes and returned to his bright smile. “But let’s not talk about me — it’s your party after all, and we don’t need that small talk. Anything special happen while we’ve been apart?” He then lowered his voice and added not so subtly, wiggling his eyebrows. “You didn’t run off and find a special someone, did you? You can’t do that to me.”

It took you a moment to find a response. You swore you sent him a message about your engagement months ago, but from the way he was acting right now, it didn’t seem like he had any knowledge of it at all. In the corner of your eye, you could see Shinwon cast a confused glance in your direction. 

Before you could respond, his father passed by to join in on the conversation. “It’s been so long since you guys got to meet, if you plan on marrying each other then we’ve got to plan more dinners like this. Though of course, a little more intimate where we don’t invite all the kingdoms over.” He joked with a hearty laugh. 

Oh. So they didn’t know about your engagement.

You chuckled along awkwardly as you watched him leave the conversation to go talk to another guest.

“He’s right, it’s been so long since we last met, we should do something together again! Like those ballroom classes, remember how we did that when we were little? We should take another class so that we can see each other often again. I love dancing with you.” Changgu rambled on excitedly and took your hands into his. His touchy antics typically weren’t unusual at all to you, having been best friends for as long as you could remember, you weren’t bothered by his love for physical contact. But today, your hands felt like they were on fire as he held them tightly, and it was probably because you could feel a certain someone staring at the two of you.

Shinwon spoke before you could. “Actually,” He put a tight grip on your shoulder and pulled you closer to his side, making Changgu step away from you a little. “Y/n already has a fiancé and the wedding will be happening this summer.” He declared boldly.

You saw the first sign of jealousy when his other hand clenched into a fist.  Now, Shinwon would never get physical, nor would he ever hurt a fly, but you could tell that he was doing so to relieve his anger. He had to do something to calm himself down.

“Ah…” Changgu stared at the two of you, mouth slightly parted as he slowly connected the dots. Then, that confusion morphed into a smile and he playfully nudged you. “You didn’t tell me you had something going on.”

“Did… did you not receive the letter we sent out?” You managed to stammer out.

“Hm? There was a letter?”

“Yes we sent one out a long time ago, it may have gotten lost I guess.” You weakly concluded. The Yeo family didn’t interact much with the other kingdoms — they hadn’t even gone to Shinwon’s party, and instead spent most of their time in the peaceful solace of the forests.

“Ah, oh well, it would’ve come to me as a surprise either way. So,” He shrugged it off and turned to look at Changgu. “You’re the man? What’s your name?” He held out his hand to shake.

“... Ko Shinwon.” He replied flatly, and firmly took his hand and squeezed it.

“My name is Yeo Changgu!” He responded back, seemingly unfazed by his cold attitude. “Me and y/n have been friends ever since we were little.”

It was a harmless comment, maybe a little unnecessary, and from the look on Changgu’s face, you weren’t sure why he found the need to say it, but his eyes still twinkled with friendliness. Shinwon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to take his statement the same way you did, and he tightened his grip on your shoulder.

-----

Shinwon seemed to lighten up a little bit when you busied yourself with talking to other guests and he kept a loose hand in yours, gently playing with it. Though wasn’t long before Changgu approached you again, now with a rose in his pocket and you silently wondered who he got it from.

“Would you care for a dance, my princess?” He joked but held his hand out in all seriousness for you to take. You hesitated, trying to peer into his mind before looking to your right to check on Shinwon, only to realize that your fiancé had already struck up a conversation with one of his friends. No matter how much you stared, he didn’t look your way. 

You huffed at his pettiness and gratefully took your friend’s hand. “Why I’m definitely up for a dance.”

The two of you swayed to the beat and you tried to get your mind off of Shinwon. You could tell he was starting to sulk a little bit and couldn’t stop the feeling of concern bubbling within you. But at the same time, his stubborn attitude unwillingly irked you a little and you wanted to push aside his unnecessary jealousy. No matter how much you tried though, the setting still reminded you of when you first danced with Shinwon. How he was the only one to understand you that day, how stunning he looked even with the mask on, how nice it felt to kiss him for the first time— 

“Ah—!”

Pulled out of your thoughts, you brought your focus back to Changgu and followed his shocked gaze to see your foot stepping fully onto his. That must’ve been a little painful.

“I’m so sorry, I got distracted.” You quickly apologized and fumbled a little as you tried to get back into the rhythm of the dance.

Your best friend lightly chuckled, though there was a slight hint of discomfort in his smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He reminisced. “Always getting distracted during dances and stepping on people’s toes.”

He was right, ever since the beginning of your lessons, you found it hard to not get lost in your thoughts and had always ended up misplacing your steps or bumping into those beside you. As your go-to dance partner during those times, Changgu had always experienced that clumsiness first-hand, and recently, Shinwon was also starting to realize that for himself. Clearly, you only harboured so much love for dancing.

The music picked up its tempo, signalling the time to switch partners and Changgu bid you off with a happy wave. Spinning around, you almost bumped into someone else and looked up to see the one and only Shinwon who seemed just as shocked as you were.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Well, not going to invite your own fiancée for a dance?” You tried to create some sort of amendment with him through your joking tone but his eyes averted from your gaze as he licked his lips.

That was the second clue to his jealousy. He always played with his lips and looked away when he was distracted and thinking about something else. After an awkward beat, he brought his hands into position and pulled you onto the floor for a dance without a word.

In the midst of the music, your little dance was silent and disappointing to say the least. Usually, they were filled with stories and laughter — that aspect came naturally to the both of you. Though you still shared this quiet sense of heartfelt affirmations, there were still so many things missing. Like his smile. 

You wanted to draw out a smile from him so badly to ease your heart, but none of your efforts seemed to work and his posture remained rigid, strictly following the music like he was worried about others criticizing his skills. The dance continued like that until you heard your father calling the two of you to take your places at the dining table.

You gave Shinwon a quick peck on the lips before making your way to your seat where many other notable guests were already gathering. When you sat down, you spotted Jinho in the spot in front of you and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. As the son of the neighbouring kingdom, he was a familiar face at your palace. He leaned onto the table and smiled sweetly. “Y/n, you’re looking beautiful as usual.”

As you returned the compliment with a polite reply, you flinched a little when Shinwon set down the glass he was holding a little too forcefully and he muttered a small “sorry.”  When he chose to talk to the guest beside him instead of returning your stare, you turned back to Jinho who sent you a sympathetic smile.

The night wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

Earlier, a small part of you admittedly had the intent of playing his own game by ignoring his hints of jealousy, but now, as you watched him sulk to himself, your heart melted and you sucked up your own pride. Your dignity was the last of your worries now — your new goal was to cheer up and remind him that yes, you still loved him and that there’s no reason for him to get jealous over a childhood friend. Even if that friend was a little too overbearing.

You spent a good chunk of that dinner glancing around the table, from one end to the other, trying to see if anyone else noticed Shinwon’s sour demeanour, or if there were any opportunities to cheer him up. However, everyone was focusing on either the food in front of them or the other guests they were conversing with, and there still wasn’t an outing for you to be able to take Shinwon outside. When you looked to your right, your eyes locked with Hui’s, just like they did the last time you saw him, and he stared back at you, slowly chewing the steak in his mouth. You couldn’t tell what he was trying to convey in his expression (and you silently scowled at his ambiguousness), but one thing was sure — there was no ounce of friendliness in his eyes, and you wondered why he wouldn’t leave you alone. You just needed an excuse to be alone...

“Gifts!”

All the attention was diverted to you when you suddenly stood up and blurted out the random word. Brushing off the crumbs that had fallen on your outfit, you let out a small sigh in relief when you noticed that they didn’t leave a stain and cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.

“I mean,” You awkwardly looked at your father. “I’ve prepared some gifts for the guest and need some time to prepare them before the dancing starts again, so may I be excused to go do that right now? I’m done eating.”

You really weren’t done eating, but that was fine. At least you weren’t lying when you said you had gifts prepared.

“I’m going to need Shinwon to help me though.”

You felt the attention shift towards him now and took a peek at Changgu, who busied himself with his drink, paying no attention to the situation. Shinwon also didn’t look at you. He almost did, but caught himself before his eyes could wander to you and opted to cast a lost expression in the other direction.

Your stomach felt queasy when you sensed his hesitation. You caught onto the idea that he was still holding onto his pride and wanted to get back at you by staying at the table out of spite, but he simply let out a small sigh and then stood straight up, giving you a moody look.

Smiling at his cuteness, you acted like everything was fine for the sake of the guests, and grabbed his hand to lead him to your bedroom.

When you arrived, you gestured at the bows and ribbons that needed to be attached to the gifts and gave him some instructions: tie the gifts up, make sure they’re secured, double check that they looked presentable — pretty straightforward. You then headed towards your closet and pulled out the first boxes full of gifts to slide them over to where Shinwon was standing, ribbons ready in hand. You caught Changgu’s name on one of the gift tags after Shinwon received the box from you and grimaced at the unlucky coincidence.

“Thanks for leaving your food to help me,” You started, trying to prevent him from reading the names in the box. “I promise I’ll get the chefs to make your favourite dessert later.”

“Sure thing, y/n.” He brushed off your thanks with a nod and you stopped pulling the gifts out of the boxes to look at him.

That was the last indicator — he said your name. 

Shinwon hardly said your name when he was talking to you directly, it was always love or princess, or some other cheesy term of endearment. But just now, he had looked at you straight in the eyes and said “y/n” like it was a challenge.

Placing the box in your hands onto a nearby table, you faced him fully and rested your hands on your hips with a sigh. “Alright, what’s going on Shinwon?” 

You played the game back by saying his name, but approached the topic gently.

“Nothing’s going on, I don’t know what you’re getting at.” He muttered with a small pout, trying to avoid the conversation by going back to sorting the gifts, but you pulled him away to the other side of the room and leaned on one of the dressers.

“Nothing’s going on? So the past how-many-hours have been the usual Shinwon I know and love? Or is there a good explanation for it?”

When he didn’t answer, you cut to the chase. “Are you jealous?”

He was pouting even more now, finally giving up on any attempt to act indifferent to your confrontation, and you almost couldn’t take him seriously anymore. “Is it because of Changgu?” You pressed.

That got him to answer. 

“When you said you were good friends before, I didn’t think you were that close.” He hesitated and then continued. “He was being too touchy, you’re my fiancée and I don’t think he got that memo. It’s either that, or he’s taking advantage of you, and it kind of hurts to just watch you know?” 

You gently took one of his hands and traced your thumb along the back of it. “I know what you’re getting at, we’ve always been pretty close, and he’s always been a naturally affectionate person… but he might’ve stepped over some boundaries earlier. I just want you to know that those advancements don’t mean anything to me though, alright?”

Standing straight up, you went in to place a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a while as the tips of your nose brushed against each other lovingly. 

“I love you the most, and I have no plans on leaving you.” You added.

Shinwon’s smile was a little fuller this time, and he whispered back an “I love you too” before pulling you into a warm hug, hair tickling your face as he leaned into you.

“Now let’s get these gifts all packed up, shall we? Everyone’s waiting for us.” You offered, patting his back a couple times to get him out of the sappy mood.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Will I get a dance with you later in return?”

“No, you’ll never get to dance with me ever again.” You replied sarcastically while pulling away and laughed when he went back to pouting again.

“I’m kidding darling, you can have all the dances in the world with me.”

#pentagon #pentagon x reader #pentagon shinwon #shinwon #ko shinwon #shinwon x reader #pentagon fluff #pentagon angst #shinwon fluff #shinwon angst #pentagon imagines #shinwon imagines #nose-bandaid

[onlytaylor]

That time during the Battle of Hogwarts when Draco almost died in the Room of Requirement but kissed Harry Potter instead

Draco Malfoy limps. He fucking drags his leg behind him, pushing forward and sacrificing every ounce of repituity while doing so.

It was the fucking snake. Nagini, the one who’d lived with them for months at Malfoy Manor. The one who the Dark Lord had fed numerous times in front of his followers, Draco chewing his cheek with silent opposition.

And now, it had bit him right in the arse. Just a bit lower in all technicality, but Draco didn’t care. He just wanted solace.

He hadn’t meant to show the slightest reluctance to the Dark Lord’s plan to invade the school. To “catch Potter once and for all” as soon as his presence had been identified. Forgive him- Draco loved Hogwarts. It was the only place he’d ever felt (and he’d kill you if you knew this) home. At school, he had his friends. He had games of exploding snap and good-willed jabs between housemates and witty banter. He had Potter to annihalate with sarcastic comebacks and the like. It all gave him fuel; a sense of purpose.

Now, that fuel had been ignited by dark magic and curses that set the turrets on fire. Creatures ran rampant, killing those in their wake. Some of the braver students had stuck around and threw counter-spells from behind posts and make-shift debris walls. In the midst of it all, Draco limps.

He pulls his leg to the Room of Requirement, where he knows Potter will be. He’s known him far too long to guess his motives. His plans were like clockwork, a rhythmic and predictable rouse. Or maybe, Draco was just that keen at sensing his thoughts and ideas.

He doesn’t have a lot of time; he’s figured that much out. Even if he manages to outrun Voldemort, the poison will still inevitably travel through his circulatory system. He’s already broken into a cold sweat as he approaches his destination.

Potter’s already there, rummaging through stacks of decade old-belongings that only the Room of Hidden Things would hold. He’s clearly searching for something.

“Malfoy.” He starts, pointing his wand at Draco’s chest. He’s alone, and the silence that ensues is almost unsettling. But this time, Draco doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care that he’s spent the last 7 years arguing with this boy. He doesn’t give a flying fuck that he’s on the dead end of his wand. He’s dying, and he doesn’t bother with small details.

He focuses instead on the vibrancy of his stare, the way his green eyes cut through him like no one else ever could. The soft patches of dirt that bespeckle his face and hands from battle. The beads of sweat that slowly trickle down the side of his neck, reflecting his urgency.

“I don’t have time for games right now!” He shouts, eyes darting around the room for his lost object while his wand remains steady. They then come to rest on his form, his bloody and pathetic lower half that trails lifelessly behind him.

“Wait, Malfoy- you’re- you’re hurt.”

Draco doesn’t respond. He tells himself his hard swallow is the effect of the snake venom, but he knows it’s a lie. It’s always been.

The caring tone to Potter’s voice, the way he lowers his wand and rushes to inspect him regardless of his mission is enough to push him over the edge. To ignite that same fire deep within his belly, blazing wild and free.

“What happened?” Potter is close, too close, and Draco finds it hard to catch his breath. That’s what happens when you’re dying, right?

“Fucking snake,” is all he manages to squeak, and suddenly he’s light headed. He slides downward to the floor, and Potter, against all odds, reaches to catch him.

Now they’re both on the ground, Draco panting and Potter pointing his wand at the wound. “Reinervate!” He commands, but nothing happens.

Again, louder. “Reinervate!”

“It’s fine, Potter. Don’t waste your time on me. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.” He smirks, and this is all too real. Potter’s caring for him. It’s nice and warm. Peaceful.

“Fuck, Malfoy, when did you become such a selfless git?” He’s smiling, and Draco chuckles. It’s a beautiful truce, winding and weaving Draco whole.

“When you decided to save the world, I guess.” Living Draco Malfoy would never be so vulnerable, allowing the sharp silence to fill the air between them. He’d scoff, or roll his eyes before running infinitely in the opposite direction. Dying Draco, however, was a fucking sap. He refused to deny himself what he’d been missing, buried upon layers of mistakes and bad decisions. Potter draws in a sharp inspiration before settling into Draco’s gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell them? Bellatrix- you knew it was me. You knew it was me, and you didn’t say anything...”

Draco laughs softly. “Because, you idiot, it was always you. Always fucking you. And I fucked up; I ruined my chance to be good. But you... you are what good aspires to be. And I hate that about you, I always have.” He pauses, grinning and shaking his head at his own stupidity. “But it’s what makes you Saint Potter, and you deserve every piece of it.”

Potter’s mouth drops into the finest of “O’s,” and Draco can’t help but stare at the plump crimson of his lower lip.

“Malfoy- Draco- what the fuck,” he whispers, and it’s not a question, but a foretelling. His voice is raspy; he swallows hard against a dry throat. His eyes are reflective pools of the past seven years, memories dancing across his irises as he realizes the implication of Draco’s words. He licks his lips, studying the boy before him. The boy that was wholesome and selfless and good despite all previous notion.

Before he can answer, Draco points upward. “Potter, look,” He states, his hazy vision landing on the most peculiar glint of sapphire. “It’s a diadem. Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s a-“ Harry turns suddenly, whipping toward the direction of Draco’s gesture. Sure enough, there, propped against a dusty old mannequin atop a mound of antiquities, was exactly what he’d been looking for.

His face lights up, cheeks a rosy pink as they’re pulled taut. “Draco, you fucking prat, you found it! You-“

He jolts back to look at him, but his lids have come to a gentle close. His chest rises and falls in a shallow rhythm, and Harry notices the amount of blood that’s pooled around them.

“Draco, no! Fuck!” He glances around, desperate for some sort of answer, before deciding to cup Draco’s face in his hands.

“You can’t go and do this now, you wanker! Not when you just told me how you feel! Draco, please, please-“ he Grips for dear life, but Draco’s face is cool to the touch.

His stomach clenches. How has everything he’d known to be true flipped in just a matter of minutes? How did he end up here, begging his arch nemesis to be alive?

He runs a hand along the edge of Draco’s jaw, and he stirs a bit. His fingers glide lower, down the soft plane of his neck and collarbone. Draco shivers. Potter laughs.

“You like that, don’t you?” He smiles, playfully amused as he trails a path down Draco’s chest. The caress is heaven, and in his semiconscious state Draco feels whole. Green eyes flicker down to his lips, pale but smooth despite his current state. Harry knows this is it, and it’s all or nothing. There is no longer right and wrong; light or darkness. It’s only Draco, and himself, and everything that he’d thought he’d known to be true snowing gently in broken bits all around them.

He bites his lip, making a characteristically Harry decision- a rash, exuberant, intuition-driven thought that just feels right. And as he leans forward, closing the gap between them, he knows there’s no going back.

He’s going to get them out of here. Destroy the diadem. And- Goddamnit- Draco is going to get another chance.

Draco’s eyes fly open as Harry presses their lips into a soft embrace. It’s as if kissing fucking Harry Potter causes more of a shock to his system than the venom coursing through his veins, and suddenly he’s wide awake.

His hands are tingling; he’s nauseous; the room is spinning. And absolutely no part of that has to do with the injury to his leg.

Draco relaxes; allows himself to succumb to the warmth that spreads throughout his body. God, Nothing had ever felt like this before. If this was the type of reprieve that dying got him, then by golly-

Harry pulls away suddenly, and the absence is heavily vacant upon his lips. His stomach twinges as Harry snaps upward. It is all too evident that they are no longer alone.

“Potter! I fucking found you! You’re dead!” The voice belongs to Crabbe, and Draco is just coherent enough to make out his figure. He’s accompanied by Goyle, waving his wand about, attempting haphazardly to bring about some type of spell. Draco raises a weak hand to protest, but flames are already shooting from the tip of his wand toward a pile of rubbish beside them.

“Fu-fucking fiendfyre,” he whispers, and realization dawns on Harry as he realizes what Draco’s said. Crabbe wasn’t joking. They needed to get the diadem and get the fuck out of there.

In the nick of time, the door opens to reveal Weasley and Granger, who immediately hurl spells at Draco’s childhood friends. The robotic henchmen that he’s realized were no more loyal to him than his own father. They were blind, the lot of them, sightlessly following orders from the Dark Lord. Draco dodges, protecting his face from the fallout. Magic sparks the air, and an urgency radiates between all parties as Crabbe’s flames begin to violently spread.

Harry squeezes his hand before jetting forward, climbing the Mound of Things to retrieve the diadem. Crabbe and Goyle are distracted momentarily by the fire, which has formed the shape of a large serpent and seems to be forming ideas by its own volition.

Ron Weasley stares with his mouth open as the snake rears it’s head, and even Crabbe seems surprised at his own doing. Hermione, in a fit of logic, grasps his hand and pulls him from the direct path of the flames as the serpent strikes.

Harry’s tumbling, struggling to find hand-holds in the pile as things get heated. He’s almost to the diadem, and Draco is silently willing his thoughts to persuade his victory. He can hardly move, and in the midst of chaos he notices that his leg is tingling.

In the next moment, several things seem to happen simultaneously. Harry suddenly grabs the diadem. Ron and Hermione have summoned brooms and are hastily mounting their only means of escape. Crabbe and Goyle back away, terrified, as the snake turns on its master and slithers toward them. Draco observes it all, shaking slightly as his muscles contract involuntarily. His leg, it’s burning, and it’s as if the more the flames travel from object to object the more consuming the pain becomes.

Ron and Hermione are ascending rapidly toward Harry. The flames are climbing higher, ignited on old parchment rolls and other treasures from previous students. Harry is pulled onto Ron’s broomstick as he steers to the exit.

Harry screams objections, yelling at his friend to turn the broom around. Draco’s stomach lurches at the sentiment, but he knows it’s over for him.

The serpent’s attention is diverted to the trio as they halt and sharply turn backward. Weasley’s grumbling is barely audible above the high-pitched whine of the fire, and Draco begins to cough as smoke chokes the air.

The snake strikes, and a shower of flames lands around him. His leg, it’s on fire, it’s on fucking fire...

The pain intensifies. He’s going to pass out soon, he’s sure. His flesh is screaming, but all he can vocalize is a string of choked coughs. His throat is raw, but it’s nothing, nothing compared to the bite of that fucking snake...

He’s barely conscious, but he feels a tugging sensation on his limbs. And then he’s weightless, like he’s riding on air. The pain, it’s lessening. He must be close to death...

Harry. He thinks of that kiss, the one that forever erased the line between good and evil. How ironically it was the most alive he’d ever felt. And how if heaven was real, and if Draco Malfoy was lucky enough to end up there, he’d spend an eternity reveling in that one moment.

He allows his thoughts to consume him, until his leg is painless. He’s floating, flying... until he’s not.

He feels himself fall, tumbling forward, and then the slam of the floor against his chest brings him back to reality. His eyes flash open, miraculously, to find that he’s facing the entrance to the Room of Requirement. The door is closing, and there’s a serpent, and the room is engulfed in flames...

But as it seals shut, he’s left in the silence that he suddenly realizes is indicative of his safety. Next to him is Granger, pulling Ron to a standing position. On his other side is Harry, fucking Harry...

He’s lifting himself from the floor and begins running straight toward Draco, bruised and splattered with soot. Before he can open his mouth to speak, Harry’s arms are thrown around him.

“Your leg, Draco! How is it?” He pants, pulling away slightly to examine the wound.

But it’s vanished.

Draco’s mouth falls inexplicably, and he’s unable to make sense of anything that’s happened in the past ten minutes.

He gapes stupidly, breath heading as he grasps the fact that he’s suddenly fucking alive and his leg doesn’t hurt and there’s no bite. And Harry fucking Potter is still holding him, and it’s so much that he can’t handle it.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he stares at Potter, who’s a fucking light at the end of the incessant, winding tunnel that’s been his life the past few years. He becomes lost in the details of his face, cheeks flushed crimson with adventure and green eyes peering from behind glasses that were probably permanently crooked by now. He pulls his lip between his teeth as he too contemplates what happened.

“Fiendfyre.” Granger’s voice pierces the quiet confusion. “It’s a dark enough spell to destroy a horcrux. That’s why when you dropped the diadem, Harry, it disentigrated.”

“Oh my God, Hermione, Nagini is-“

“A horcrux.” She finished, and Draco glanced between them. Ron’s eyes were glazed over, and for the first time in his life Draco Malfoy felt he could relate. The logistics of it all quickly faded however as Harry’s eyes positively brightened.

“Draco, I don’t know fucking how, but when the fiendfyre caught your leg... it must have reversed the effects of the snake bite.” He’s smiling, a wide, wholesome grin, and Draco finally catches his breath.

“I’m- I’m not dying,” he declares, more to himself than anyone else, and Harry’s still beaming as he presses a continuation of their earlier kiss to his lips. It’s war, but in this brief moment, they’re fucking happy, and that’s all that matters.

“You know, I’m not dying, Hermione,” Ron tries with a helpless shrug, and she blushes before slapping his arm.

“Come on, boys,” she says determinedly to them all, “we’ve got a war to win.”

#drarry #draco malfoy x harry potter #draco x harry #drarry fanfiction #draco malfoy #harry potter #romione #ron weasley x hermione granger #ron weasley #hermione granger #vincent crabbe #gregory goyle #room of requirement #harry potter and the deathly hallows #battle of hogwarts #nagini #the redemption arc draco malfoy deserved

[riotrues]

blooming star (pt. 1) | malleus draconia

summary: the sight of blooming flower in a wilting garden. a miracle in a tragedy. their newly blooming friendship filled their summer days seamlessly, but what happens when winter comes knocking at the door?

pairing: malleus draconia x gender neutral reader (yuu)

content: fluff, minor toxic masculinity, cute stuff with malleus & incoming major angst (and death)

word count: 2k

comment: no proofreading we die like men. also hi, i’m rue and this is the beginning of my very angsty journey! how are ya? part two comes after my two assignments are done! whoop, whoop!

FALL / 20 / -- / --21

The air had grown colder and various shades of brown and orange had taken over the scenery. It’s the season of fall. Not particularly his favourite, though he never minded that much. Between his hands, he holds a warm cup which he’s been slowly sipping through all morning. It’s slowly nearing afternoon and the tea slowly loses its steam. He holds onto it.

Malleus is not one to wander outside too much, but he likes to do so during his alone time.

He likes nature. The trees, the smell of grass and soil after soaking up rain droplets, blooming flowers during spring. He finds it calming to be surrounded by them, he takes comfort in it.

It’s been a while since he last stepped out of the house. As summer slowly fades into fall, he too feels as if that spirit to venture outside had wilted. He slouches against the wall, letting the steam of his cup get blown away by the cold air.

He keeps on wondering how they would cope through such a season?

Yuu has never been the type that’s fond of the cold, after all. They despised it, in fact. They’d go on a continuous rage about the frostbite and the cold air despite the beautiful wonderland you get to see when the snow covers every ground surface. He didn’t realize he was smiling to himself until he brought his thoughts back to reality.

In his other hand, Malleus holds a wilting daisy. His eyes dropped, brows furrowing at the sight yet he maintained a gentle hold on the piece of flower. Yuu’s favourite. Their babies, they’d refer to the flowers as. At the thought, Malleus lets out a soft laugh.

A shadow looms over him still though he refuses to let it take over him. Despite its nature, the piece of the flower brings him back to a year ago. The first time they met.

☆

SUMMER / 10 / -- / --20

They met that day on a summer afternoon. 

That day, the heat wasn’t overwhelming though the sun remains to shine ever so brightly. Even then, the soothing wind counters it. That day, Malleus isolated himself from others. There’s only so much interaction he could handle and the recent visit to his parents’ home had completely taken up most of his energy. He seeks small joy in these times where he’s with himself. He’d taken up this time to do some knitting. Nobody knew this, not that he blamed them as it’s quite a new hobby he’d picked up.

In his younger days, he’d have servants making him knitted dolls that he was quite fond of. He’d kept them in his room, played with them and dressed them up, referring to them often as his friends. His father detested this and got rid of most of them, pushing him to attend lessons instead. It’s quite vexing having to think back to it again yet here he was, creating his own knitted dolls away from all that.

He understood his role as the heir of the most powerful dark faerie in the land. His natural-born abilities granted him immense power, unsurprisingly with the blood that ran through his veins. Malleus was capable of having heightened senses when an inhuman presence is near and he had mastered such at a young age. He learned and studied all sorts of skills and abilities throughout his childhood.

He did everything to maintain that integrity, but he felt at times it’s quite suffocating. Malleus finds solace in quiet moments such as this. He felt time had paused for him whenever he spent his days in the field. All worries and burden washed away by the calm breeze, tensed muscles loosened by the smallest light of the sun on his body.

He learned that day he wasn’t the only one.

Only a couple of glances upwards and there he saw in the middle of the grass field. A human with their back facing him. They have lengthy (Y/H/C) hair that reached their waist, complemented by their overall bright white clothing. A white blouse under a sheer cloth hung on their shoulders. A peculiar soft, yellow ribbon that was tied into a bow around their hair. The only hint of colour that they had.

Their attention fixated on the flowers around them. White daisies. 

They were no stranger, in the sense that he’d felt their presence always though he never figured out why. A mere human who spent most of their time at this place he calls a safe haven for himself. How peculiar yet perhaps the human also seeks solace the same as he.

They had a certain air that he couldn’t exactly touch on. If he were to put into words, his first encounter with them felt like he’d seen a figure behind sheer white curtains. Someone within the distance of his reach yet felt so far away. 

The glowing outline from the bright sun above and their clothing created a glowing outline. The scenery felt like a dream. The human glowed in his eyes.

He didn’t realize that they had turned their attention to him. He’d lost himself in his own thoughts and he caught himself off-guard when he realized a pair of (Y/E/C) looking at him with a gentle gaze then smiled widely.

“Hey there.” The voice that came out radiated comfort. Perhaps it was their glow and their mannerisms. “I’ve seen you around here often! You like daisies?” They greeted first, he noticed. Not what he’d expected. They’d asked if he liked daisies. He never gave them much thought nor has he ever had anyone notice him in such a way.

He nodded, unsure. The other person smiled. “More company for the babies then! The more the merrier.” They continued cheerfully. They referred to the flowers as their own child, he’d grown to know how much they adored that plain daisy field on top of that very hill.

☆

FALL / 25 / -- / --20

One encounter became two. Two became three then several. Sometimes, he’d even gone to the field day and night.

Although Malleus had already been familiar with the field, it brought a different atmosphere with Yuu. The two often spent their time together on the field, lying down with the flowers tickling their skin and the blue sky above overwhelming their sight.

“I live there.” Yuu pointed out the mansion surrounded by what seemed like tiny red dots. Apple trees, they explained to him. “I have the cutest youngest brother who really loves apples. Father made sure to have those apple trees planted across the house and we truly became the apple mansion.” A giggle erupted from Yuu, a hearty yet soft one.

“You have such fond memories, human.”

“Hmmm, yeah.” They looked down at their hands, tugging at their shirt with a mindless smile on their face. “I suppose so.”

Quickly, Yuu turned their head towards Malleus with a wide eye and a knowing smile. “So, how ‘bout your childhood, Great Dark Faerie Lord? Any fun memories you wanna share?”

“Not nearly as happy as yours, I can guarantee.” He bitterly replied, didn’t mean to come off as mean but it was the truth. He never had the greatest childhood, mostly sheltered away by his parents. But even then, he thought back to the young days he spent with Silver and Sebek while Lilia had to take care of them all. There were little moments such as those. “I suppose… There are people that I’m grateful for. They’ve made those days better even just by a little.”

Yuu shifted their body to the side, replied gently, “Me too.”

“I...I like knitting dolls.” It came out as a stutter. He could feel his cheeks heat up at that. He never openly admitted to it to someone like this.

Unsurprisingly, they let out a squeal. “Really? You do? Oh, Mal! You should show me some of your dolls! I had no clue you liked them that much. That’s adorable!”

The words only made his face even redder and to this, Yuu laughed. “I think it’s super lovely that you do, Mal! I mean it! My babies can now finally meet with your babies.” They continued with a radiant face still. He couldn’t say much aside from nodding gently.

“I’m happy.” The reply came out softer than he expected, but he loved that most about Yuu. How gentle and accepting they can be.

Yuu let out a sigh. “You know…” They paused. “That reminded me of my little brother. He liked dolls, so much. Gosh, every day I would accompany him and his pals during tea time. He loved them so much!”

They continued, “I think… I think you both would’ve gotten along.”

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint, but the smile on Yuu’s face was different. They avoided eye contact and looked down at the ground almost with a solemn look on their face. Something he’d never seen on their face before.

“Are you close with your brother?” He asked, shifting his focus on the back that he’s facing. The moment of silence hung heavy as he kept staring at the back of Yuu’s head. He was unsure what to make out of how Yuu’s currently feeling. The air felt heavy.

“Yeah,” Yuu replied almost too quietly for him to catch. The pause continued. “We were. There’s no stopping life after all, even if it meant such wonderful things would have to end.”

Their voice faded into a whisper, but it held depth to them. There was something particularly nostalgic in the way Yuu said those words. The energy and warmth died down with the silence that seeped through. 

“And that’s exactly why you can’t waste any more precious time!” Yuu pointed at Malleus with a drastic shift in tone. The wide gummy smile now had taken over their face. Yet this time he wasn’t sure why, he couldn’t take in the smile as genuine. It felt… hollow somehow.

He held back not wanting to hound them with further questions. They lied there staring at the constantly changing shapes of the clouds and began to swallow the blank blue sky whole. 

☆

?? / ?? / ?? / ????

That day, a storm lurked around the corner. The sky grew darker each minute that day. Storm echoed from a distance. It was as if the vibrant nature was being devoured slowly by the foul grey sky above. Malleus had no recollection he’d gone outside, but for some reason, he needed to find Yuu.

The thunder grew closer and closer each minute. The wind grew violent, blowing through the grass harshly causing branches to fly and a cold air that causes a shiver down his spine. He held tightly to his coat and in the distance of their usual spot, Yuu stood still.

Their back facing him just like that day when they had met. The atmosphere is far heavier this time.

“Yuu?” He called out to them. He noticed how their fist clenched yet when they turned around, he greeted them with the same usual smile. The one that never failed to wash over his chest with warmth.

The wind became unbelievably strong. It was almost ominous.

“Yuu! It’s dangerous out here!” He shouted.

“Malleus…” He stopped at the sound of their voice echoing in his mind. “Goodbye.”

His senses heightened for a moment when he felt a strong inhuman presence near him. The sound of thunder grew closer. He grunted, falling onto his knees at the surge of pain in his body. He didn’t have enough time to deflect. His senses overwhelmed, his sight overwhelmed by flashes of what felt like memories. 

He saw a young boy with the fairest of skin and hair black as night. Daisies. Apples scattered all over the place. He saw the very view of the field in distance, from a window. He felt ill in the stomach. Cold and fatigued. He felt a suffocating feeling in his chest, slowly his sight fading. Who did these memories belong to?

When the daze of those memories had wandered off, he realized Yuu was no longer there. Then his world turned pitch black.

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus x mc #malleus x yuu #fluff #angst #malleus draconia x reader #potential character death

[naomidbf]

￣￣￣￣￣￣ •⸙ Gehenna ⸙•￣￣￣￣￣￣

A frail little girl with flaxen hair was gazing upon the cosmical timberland. She was curious what was out there, but the wooden fences prevents her for doing so. The fences, her only boundary that precludes her from going outside the property. She can just climb over and jump over the fence since it doesn't have enough security, but she was affrighted at the thought of her grandparents finding out that she was mislaid, and the possibility that they might punish her about that.

Her continuing childhood was spent inside her Grandparents' ranch, helping them to contend with the farm. She don't want to live the rest of her childhood like this. She wants to venture and discover new things.

The bairn blonde was feeding a nag with a hay in her hand, but her eyes was affixed to the unknown, the timberland, just pass the meadow at the other side of the fence. She always have the urge to climb over the fence and run straight through there. If only she could sneak out without anyone noticing.

She looked around the property, seeing no one, only cattles and poultries. This is a great opportunity to abscond, but there's a critical chance that they might found out that she was nowhere to be seen. She noted to herself that she'll be back very soon.

She dropped the hay, to let the nag be feed on the lawn. She looked back into the horizon. She tread towards the fence, full of excitement and fear before halting in front of it, she rested both of her palms on top of the fence. She looked back once again to the ranch to make sure that no one was there before ascending over the fence with an ease.

She scampered along the meadow, the breeze hitting her face as her hair dances along. She can't stop herself as if her legs were moving on their own. Her breath hitched each step she took.

Once she reached the edge of the massive timberland she stopped, panting from all the running she just did. She took a good look at the sight of the ranch from afar. She was disquieted, but there's no turning back

She take a good look at the prodigious trees in front of her before treading to go deeper, admiring the ambients.

The adolescent blonde went further until she could no longer see the ranch nor the meadow behind her that was being blocked by the trees.

She ascertained new things such as many types of harmless animals like birds, elks, and hares. She even petted a caterpillar in her hand.

As she went further, something captivated her eyes. At the bottom of one of the trees, there were a few white fungi shaped like an umbrella. With her having no knowledge about the nature yet being so inquisitive still, she trudged towards the funguses and crouched in front of them. She found them congenial, she was about to touch one but a child's voice stopped her.

"Don't touch that!" Warned a child's voice somewhere, it wasn't clear where.

The adolescent blonde surprised by the voice, jolted and stood up. Looking around for the source of the voice. "Huh?"

"I said don't touch that. Those are mushrooms, it's poisonous."

"Poisonous?" The blonde asked, gazing back at the so called mushrooms.

"Yes, those mushrooms are called Death Cap. Scientific name; Amanita phalloides," the voice explained, it's still wasn't clear which direction it came from. "If you digest one those, you'll slowly die."

"T-Thank you." The blonde said as her lips formed into a nervous smile.

"Hmm? For what?" The voice asked, somewhat confused.

"For telling me those informations, I would've touch it, if it weren't from your warning."

"That's not much of a big deal, you're welcome." The voice replied simply.

"Can you... show yourself so I can thank you enough?" The adolescent blonde queried, looking around for the other adolescent.

"If I show myself, instead of thanking me, you'll run away." The voice reasoned.

"I-I won't, I promise. I just want to show my gratitude." The adolescent blonde gave a warm smile.

The child behind the voice gaze at the frail blond bairn from behind the trees. The innocent look of the flaxen haired adolescent, and how frail she looks, and the fact that she looked so dense made the mysterious adolescent trust her.

"Alright, if you said so." The voice said before stepping out from behind one of the trees, eyes affixed to the blonde as the not so normal adolescent trudged towards her.

The adolescent female blonde stood still, her eyes were widen, not because of fear but because of astonishment. The adolescent she was gazing was a tan girl with a few freckles sprinkled around her cheeks and nose, that's not what she was amazed for. What made her awestruck were her two pointed curled horns attached on her head, and a pair of huge wings behind her back. Her wings resembles a raven's wing, it was caliginous as its feathers.

The eccentric adolescent stopped in front of her, staring at the flaxen haired little lass with ennui. "Aren't you afraid?" She asked.

"Huh? Why would I be afraid?" The blond adolescent asked, baffled.

She sighed. "You're a total dense, aren't you?" She frowned. "Well I can't blame you, you're far too young. You have a lot to learn ahead of you about this world."

"Huh? You're young too, like me!" The blonde retorted.

"I am, but I have far more knowledge than you do." The winged freckled girl replied, her almond shaped eyes staring down at her.

"Really?" The blonde gaped at her with enthusiasm written all over her face. "Will you teach me about the world? Please!"

The freckled girl stare at her and found her amusing. "Sure, I have nothing better to do."

"Yay! What's your name?" The blonde asked gaily as she held the tan girl's hand.

The freckled girl remained silent for a moment before answering. "Ymir... just Ymir." She looked away.

"Nice to meet you, Ymir! I'm Historia!" The little blonde said full of gaiety.

"Yeah... nice to meet you too. So you want to learn about the world?" She asked, the blonde nodded excitedly in response. "Alright, I'll tell you about the world base on my experience."

Historia and Ymir, the two little lasses were walking around and exploring the timber. Ymir already liking the flaxen haired girl's company, she liked how the blonde is eager to learn.

Ymir was teaching her things about the nature and wildlife, such as what are animals that are innocuous and what animals that are jeopardizing. She also taught her what plants are edible and what are not.

"The world is really beautiful, yet..." Ymir paused her sentence before eventually saying. "It also has a cruel side."

The two were sitting under a tree, Ymir was elucidating as Historia gaze at her and hearkened.

"This world was also a Gehenna." Ymir said, making the blonde confused.

"Gehenna? What's that?"

"Gehenna is a place of misery," Ymir said before gazing at her ocean blue eyes. "In other words, hell."

"Why?" Historia being so dense as she was, asked.

"War, innocent people being killed, injustice, plenty of corrupted and vile people, sexist, and women being ravish by men." Ymir explained.

"What are injustice, corrupted, sexist, and ravish?"

Ymir wants to laughed at her, but no, her being young and inexperienced about the world is enough reason for her to be asking this questions.

"You'll learn those words someday," Ymir gave her a warm smile, she doesn't want the girl's innocence to evanesce. Historia pouted. "I too experienced Gehenna."

Historia was really curious at the point. "Can you tell me about your experience?"

"Humans thought that I'm a threat because of my horns and my wings, so they tried to hunt me down and kill me. That's why I live in the forest solitarily, away from human society, away from Gehenna." Ymir recounted, remembering her past.

"You must've suffered a lot." Historia said, looking at her with pity. Ymir nodded, facing the ground.

Suddenly, Historia pulled her closer into her arms and gave her a lulling hug as she fondled her hair. Ymir was surprised at first, she de-stress eventually and let her solace her.

"I'm very sorry for what my own kind had done to you," Historia said as she kept fondling her hair. "And don't worry, you're safe with me. I will tell no one about you, I'm your friend!"

"Friend?" Ymir can't delineate her feelings right now, but she was more than happy. For the very first time in her life, she finally had a friend. She smiled as her tears involuntarily fell from her eyes and land on the blonde's shoulder, staining her shirt.

"Yeah, a friend. I'm your friend now," Historia exclaimed, breaking the hug and gazing at her teary amber eyes. She cupped her hands on her soft freckled cheeks and wiped her tears with her thumb. "So stop crying."

"I'm sorry, it's just... I never have a friend before." Ymir chuckled.

"Well now you have, and that's me." She gave her the most buoyant smile she can manage before leaning closer to her and kissed her forehead. Ymir was surprised by this, but she didn't move, instead, she cherished the moment.

Historia parted her lips from the tan girl's forehead before smiling at her softly. Ymir smiled back at her.

Historia suddenly realized something, she realized that she's been here within the forest for far too long.

"Oh no, I'm so dead." Historia stood up, her body is shaking with trepidation.

"What's wrong?" Ymir stood up as well and looked at her in confusion.

"I only sneaked out from my home so that I can wander around here in the forest, and I'm not sure if they already found out that I was missing," the blonde explained before looking around. "And what's worst is that I'm lost."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I can help you," Ymir gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll fly you to the direction where you came from."

Historia looked at her with her eyes full of enthusiasm. "R-Really? You'll do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my friend after all, right?" Ymir exclaimed.

Historia felt the same joy as Ymir earlier, she couldn't help it so she hugged her tightly. "Thank you!"

"It's not a big deal, so hop on." Ymir said, beaconing to go behind her back.

The blonde followed and went behind her, she put her arms around the tan girl's neck. Ymir held her thighs tightly, lifting her legs.

Ymir extended her wings, Historia couldn't help but gasped in awe. The tan girl fling her wings downward before departing from the ground. She fly in a very tremendous height as she make sure to not to let go off the blonde.

The blonde could see everything below in bird's-eye view, she was clinging unto the tan girl's shoulder tightly. At first it was direful, eventually she finally conquered her fear and admire every view with so much enthusiasm.

"There!" Historia could see the ranch from afar, she pointed at the direction of the ranch as Ymir nods and fly on the direction she pointed.

Historia never felt so much joy, she wished that everyday she could fly like this. She's really glad that she found Ymir. Eventually, the fun ends once the tan girl landed carefully on the ground at the end of the forest where the ranch could be seen up ahead pass the meadow. Historia let go off Ymir's shoulder before standing beside her, both of them gaze at the ranch from afar as the breeze hit their body.

"Well... this is it." Ymir started.

"Yeah..."

"I guess I'll see you soon."

Historia looked at her and smiled. "I'll come back tomorrow."

Ymir looked back at her once she heard her sentence, she smiled. "I'm looking forward to that, but your family might caught you again tomorrow."

"I'll sneak out at night tomorrow."

"Hmm... why?"

"Because everyone is asleep at night, and it's way easier to sneak out!"

"I see," Ymir chuntered as her lips curved into a smile. "I'll wait for you then."

"And then I'll come back again the day after tomorrow, and then the next day after that, and then everyday!" The blonde cheered mirthfully. Ymir could only smile as she admire her enthusiasm. Historia looked at her placidly. "And once we grow up and are old enough, teach me those words that I didn't know. Promise?"

The adolescent blonde extended her arm and bend all her fingers except her little finger for a pinkie swear.

"Promise." Ymir replied before locking her little finger with Historia's as they gaze into each other's eyes, full of hope.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Ymir "

"I'll be there."

They parted their litttle fingers before Historia started sprinting along the meadow, on her way back to the ranch. Ymir watched her go as her figure became further.

In a single encounter, a friendship was formed. In a simple conversation, a bond was formed. In a simple commitment, a hope was actuated.

They've just met but they already yearning for the other's warmth, both with friendship and love.

What would fate conclude for their future? Neither of the two adolescents know.

All they know that their story had just begun.

As for Ymir, she finally realized that she can meet someone that will give her happiness in this Gehenna of a world.

___

~Ethereal Tea

[] The artwork above does not belong to me, credits to the rightful owner

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #yumikuri #yumihisu #ymir #historia reiss #krista lenz #christa lenz #ymir x krista #ymir x christa #ymir x historia #fanfic #fanfiction

[bangtann-bangdamn]

<OT7>

After reading Taehyung’s new book from his beloved antique store, Jin and Yoongi find themselves transformed into parakeets. 

Warnings: None. This is an absolute crack piece 

Word Count: 6957

Master List

AN: This entire fic was a result of seeing this post in June 2019 and I have been working on it ever since. I love this story so much that I’m low key thinking about making this into a series. So if you love it, let me know!

Taehyung missed his grandmother. It wasn’t something he spoke about very often, but he did. He didn’t feel like he could voice this to his parents either, because, despite entrusting his care into her hands for most of his childhood, his grandmother was quite eccentric. But his parents had very little options in terms of child-care for Taehyung as they were often away on business. 

Most of his peers felt bad for Taehyung when he mentioned this, but he had felt lucky for it meant that he got to spend his childhood trailing after his grandmother as she travelled to different parts of the town that he knew his mother would hate. His grandmother was a very popular woman, and so she spent her days visiting strange stores filled with smells that were both alarming and comforting and never quite distinguishable for Taehyung to find out what it was, and restaurants that always seemed to be full of noise but lacking in customers.

He always felt like they were on their own private adventure when he accompanied his grandmother on her trips, but there was one place in particular that he was always excited to go to.  On the outside, the store was nothing special. A simple concrete building with a discrete sign hanging over its white door. Nothing on the outside to give away the treasure that hid inside. 

His grandmother always called it the ‘antique’ store, but Taehyung knew it was more than that. It was a magical wonderland of hidden treasures. He would rush in front of his grandmother so he could take his time walking down each section, touching all the different treasures that decorated the shelves. He would always imagine the people they might have belonged to, the journeys they had been on to end up in some antique shop in Seoul. He liked to think that even the most mundane of objects had been on fabulous adventures.

Like the table lamp his grandmother had once bought. With its intricate embellishments on its legs, to the thin lace lamp shade that cast patterns all across the walls. He would think to himself that it had belonged to a young sorceress once upon a time who bespelled the lamp to never break, despite looking like one wrong knock could shatter it. It brought him a sense of calm walking through the shop whilst his grandmother spoke in low whispers to the owner about the small collection of books that were stored behind a locked cabinet at the back of the room. 

When his grandmother had passed when he was eighteen, he had found solace in the antique store. Everything in his life was changing, but the antique store was always there to support him. Even as he moved to a different part of Seoul to attend university, he always made time to visit. 

He was always coming home with some new intricate object to decorate his apartment, which would have been fine if he had lived alone. But, as it was, he shared his apartment with two other men who had very strong opinions about the antique shop.

Mostly, Jin and Yoongi thought Taehyung’s great purchases were a little weird. 

Even Taehyung had to admit that his purchasing had gotten a little out of control when he brought home a real skull that one time. After that, Jin and Yoongi had made Taehyung promise to get one of their approval before bringing anything home.

Which is how Taehyung found himself on his knees in front of his eldest roommate.

"Please!" Taehyung begged, clutching his hands together and screwing up his face into the biggest pout he could physically manifest in the hopes that Jin could not refuse.

Jin continued to play on his Switch, frowning as he tried to keep his gaze focused on his Animal Crossing character and not Taehyung’s pout. After all, he needed all his concentration to catch those pesky butterflies. "Ah, Taehyung, can't you see I'm busy?" 

"But you're the only one around! Yoongi's gone to work." Taehyung unclutched his hands as he stood back up and took a seat on the sofa beside Jin. 

Jin groaned. "What about Jungkook?” he offered reluctantly. Whilst Jungkook wasn’t known for his sensible purchases (no seriously, the kid once bought speakers the size of his body that he couldn’t use due to the sheer volume they produced, but refused to buy himself a real pillow for his bed), but at least he was reliable.  “Doesn't he have free time today? He can have my vote." 

Taehung folded his arms across his chest. "He has university." He pouted.

"Jimin?" Jin looked up from his game as he thought. Jimin could be trusted. He wasn’t really known for buying random junk to clog up his apartment. Although, he was known to encourage Taehyung’s somewhat questionable fashion choices. 

"Visiting his mum and won't be back until this evening." Taehyung smiled, already knowing that he had won this argument. 

"Doesn't Namjoon like all that old crap?" Jin spat humorlessly as he returned to his game. He couldn’t trust Namjoon with Taehyung, which was a surprise to him as well. The usually level-headed one in their group had been easily swayed by a plant. Yes, you read that correctly. A plant. Which meant he was compromised, but Jin was willing to let it go this time if he meant he didn’t have to go himself.

Jin and Yoongi had grown to love the hideous clock Namjoon had encouraged Taehyung to buy, which was why he would prefer Namjoon to go than to suffer another trip to the antique shop.

"Yeah, but he's working too."

"Damn." Jin paused his game as he thought. He knew he was running out of options here and if he couldn’t trump Taehyung soon, then he was really going to have to bite the bullet and go with him. The alternative was to allow Taehyung go alone and risk him returning with some other obnoxiously loud object. 

"Ah-ha!" Jin clicked his fingers in triumph. "Hoseok said he had the day off today."

"That's true, he did." Taehyung slowly nodded his head as he thought about his friend.

Jin grinned as he resumed his game. He was going to treat himself by buying something pretty from Tom Nook. 

"Shame he decided to do some overtime."

Jin groaned as he saved his game. Of course he did. Hoseok loved his job. He had never met a man who was more excited at the prospect of going to work than Jung Hoseok. Seriously, it wasn’t natural.  "Fine. But you owe me one!"

Taehyung jumped to his feet, fist-bumping the air as he yelled, "Yes!"

-

“Ah, Taehyung, why do you need to go to the store today?” Jin moaned, not for the first time since they left the apartment. Why did it have to be so far from their home?

“Hyung, I thought you said you liked the antique shop!” Taehyung tried to pout, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile from his face. He had been trying to squash his excitement ever since they left for fear that Jin would catch on to his plan. 

“No, I said I like leaving the antique shop.” Jin rolled his eyes as they crossed the street to the antique store. “The Korean BBQ place next door is the best in the country."

"I already said I would buy you lunch, hyung." Taehyung laughed as he opened the door to the store. He held it open for Jin.

"Good, as long as we’re clear that I’m here for the food and not the antique shop.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Noted.” He  let the door go as he turned to face the owner, an elderly man who sat behind the counter. His glasses were the thickest Taehyung had ever seen, and yet the man still seemed to narrow his eyes as he looked over to Jin and Taehyung. 

“Afternoon, Mr Choi!” Taehyung waved as he walked over to the counter with a smile.

“Ah, there’s my favourite customer!” Mr Choi stood, returning Taehyung’s smile as he walked around the counter to shake Taehyung’s hand. He leaned heavily against the counter, but that didn’t seem to deter him from looking up at Taehyung.

“Anything new to see?” Taehyung could barely conceal his excitement. 

“Of course, of course. Come with me.” Mr Choi waved for Taehyung to follow him to the back of the shop.

Taehyung turned back to face Jin. “Are you going to be okay for a moment?” 

Jin shrugged, taking a seat on one of the red velvet chairs that was packed in between a large grandfather clock, and an equally large and clearly phallic looking wooden statue. “Just don’t buy anything too obtrusive,” Jin called after Taehyung, who had not waited for Jin’s response. 

Jin sighed. That was the real reason why Jin didn’t like coming to the antique shop. Whilst Taehyung went off to explore the shop, Jin was usually left to sit alone. Of course, he could go with Taehyung but after the last time they had both agreed it was probably for the best if Jin remained seated. The shop was kind of crowded and his broad shoulders tended to… disagree with the shop. And after he had almost broken a statue that was not only ten times his age, but cost more than his parent net worth, he didn’t want to risk it. But it wasn’t the worst place to spend an afternoon. He had to admit (under the heavy influence of alcohol, mind) that he actually did enjoy going to the antique shop. It was like stepping into another world. A world where anything was possible. 

Even so, Jin couldn’t bring himself to relax whenever he stepped foot in the store. Whilst they were a similar height, Taehyung seemed to navigate the store with ease. Jin always found himself uncomfortably close to disaster with every breath. Even seated, Jin found that it would be far too easy to knock over some ridiculously expensive lamp. So he sat rigid, focusing on not moving at all. He definitely didn’t want to be forced into spending a couple hundred on some ugly ornament that Taehyung would force him to keep because he broke it.

So that meant Jin was left alone to stare around the shop.

Seriously, who would buy a ginormous wooden statue that looked like a penis? 

Jin closed his eyes as he tried to expel the image from his mind.

-

“Thank you, Mr Choi. This is perfect!” 

Jin jumped slightly in his chair as Taehyung’s voice rang through the shop. He hadn’t been sleeping. He was just resting his eyes. 

How long had Taehyung been this time? He could never tell when he was in this store. Time seemed to stop and it wasn’t like Taehyung was a fast shopper in the first place. Jin had lost count of the time where Taehyung had meandered around the store whilst Jin tried not to fall asleep. Those trips were the worst because they were always the ones where Jin... 

Taehyung rounded the corner with Mr Choi on his heel.

Jin stood quickly, trying to look inconspicuous as he stretched out his limbs. But in his haste to stand, Jin threw out his elbow just a little too roughly and accidently knocked the lamp. He quickly reached over to stop it from tumbling to the floor, glancing to make sure Taehyung and Mr Choi hadn’t noticed the near disaster. 

Luckily, neither of them were playing Jin any attention. Jin sighed as he returned the lamp to its position before carefully making his way over to where Taehyung stood by the counter. 

“- the moment I saw it, I knew there was only one customer who should have it. It was one of your grandmother’s favourite’s.”

“I know,” Taehyung agreed, staring down at the book in his hand with a sad smile. “I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”

Jin peered at the book in Mr Choi’s hand with disinterest. From his glance, it looked like an ordinary hard back. The brown, worn down cover was plain, the spine written in a faded gold font in a language Jin didn’t recognise. 

“-but I should pay something towards it,” Taehying continued as he reached for his wallet.

Mr Choi shook his head, holding out his hand to stop Taehyung from pulling out any money. “Don’t be ridiculous. Consider this a gift for my favourite customer.”

“Mr Choi…”

“No buts. It’s yours.” Mr Choi wrapped the book in tissue paper before placing it in a paper bag, which Jin thought was incredibly unnecessary. The book was old and clearly worn out. It definitely didn’t need to be handled with care. But he kept the comment to himself. He didn’t want to jeopardize a free lunch from Taehyung. 

“Thank you, Mr Choi.” Taehyung bowed low, unable to keep the tears from his eyes as he smiled at the olerman. 

“Ah, enough with the formalities. You go and enjoy the rest of your day with your friend. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see the back of this place.” Mr Choi nodded his head towards Jin and, whilst he did so with a smile, Jin could help but feel a little chastised. 

-

“So what exactly is the book about?” Jin asked through a mouthful of meat. He couldn’t believe that the simple book was all that Taehyung had been after in the end.

Taehyung glanced at the bag on the seat beside him, chopsticks playing with the food in his bowl. “I think this is the book my grandmother used to have a copy of, but it got lost when she passed away.”

“But it’s written in gibberish!” Jin tried to remember the title of the book, but the characters flew across his mind and made as much sense as they did when he first read them. He shook his head. 

“It’s latin, not gibberish.” He peered into the bag once more. “At least, I hope it’s Latin.”. He shrugged. “She liked a mystery. She used to spend her time translating books like this for fun.”

Jin stopped shoveling food into his mouth as he gaped at Taehung. “You know what, it makes sense now. I get why you’re so weird.” Jin nodded sagely, smile tugging at his lips. He was only teasing his younger friend, but it did at least provide a little context for Taehyung’s love for some random antique shop.

“Gah, I’m not weird, hyung,” Taehyung laughed.

“You spend all your free time in an antique shop.” Jin deadpanned, tapping his chopsticks on the side of the bowl. 

Taehyung glared at Jin. “I’m not weird,” He muttered as he shoveled some more meat into his mouth.

Jin shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

-

"Yoongi, guess what the weirdo brought home this time!" Jin called out the moment they returned to the apartment. He let their front door swing wide open and bang into the wall. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes but decided not to comment as he followed the positively excited Jin into their home and closed the door behind them. He was used to this. To  be deemed the weird one. So what if he was passionate about an antique shop? At least he didn’t collect anime figurines like their other friend.

Yoongi sat up on the sofa, blinking blearily at the pair. "Do you have to be so loud? I was sleeping." He rubbed his eyes as he let out a long yawn.

Taehyung giggled as he walked towards the kitchen and placed his bag down on the counter. "Yeah, Jin. You woke Yoongi up." 

“Trust me, you’ll want to be awake for this,” Jin said to Yoongi with a smirk. He turned to Taehyung. “Now show him, brat.”

Taehyung thought about it for a moment. “Nah.” He shook his head, trying his best not to look amused but knowing that he was failing miserably. His cheeks were hurting from trying to suppress his smile. This, too, was to be expected. Jin and Yoongi liked to guess what Taehyung purchased every time they came back. Taehyung didn’t mind. If it made them complain less about what he was buying, then he was all for it. 

He turned away from his hyungs, deciding to get himself a drink of water when his phone chimed. Absentmindedly he pulled his phone from his pocket as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. 

Jimin: You free tonight?

Taehyung: Depends… What are you proposing?

Jimin: Namjoon’s finally agreed to a night out 😈

Taehyung: Namjoon? Kim Namjoon? 

Jimin: The one and only

Taehyung: Damn, I can be free for that. Let me get changed and I’ll come round for pre-drinks.

Jimin: Sweet. See you soon

Taehyung put his phone back into his pocket before filling his glass with a smile. He could do with a night out. He turned to face Jin and Yoongi once more, finally noting that Jin had been, in fact, talking the entire time Taehyung had been distracted.

“-and that is the last time I ever do something nice for you.” He folded his arms across his chest dramatically, turning away from Yoongi and glaring directly at Taehyung.

Yoongi looked up at the broad-shouldered man with a look that Taehyung could only describe as one that said ‘Who shat in your coco puffs this morning?’

“What?” Taehyung asked, wide-eyed. He had a feeling Jin had just spent the last couple of minutes complaining about their day out and he had completely ignored him.

Yoongi laughing at Jin’s exasperated sigh.

“Gah, why do I even bother?” Jin sank down further in the seat beside Yoongi, dramatically flailing his limbs in the process.

Taehyung giggled before announcing, “I’m just going to get changed and then I’m off out.” 

Yoongi nodded silently whilst Jin continued to pout. But the moment they heard Taehyung’s door close, Jin was on his feet and pouncing towards the bag Taehyung had left on the counter. He picked up the book carelessly before bringing it over to Yoongi.

“See, what did I say? Another useless piece of junk to lay around the apartment. I mean, he could have picked something useful, like the chair I was sitting on or something but oh no.” Jin flicked through the pages, disgust colouring his features. “He had to pick up this book of gibberish.” He dropped the book onto the coffee table.

“It looks like Latin to me,” Yoongi contemplated as he picked up the book and opened it to a random page. He marvelled at the intricate drawing of parakeets adorned on the left side of the page. “Must be a book about animals. Look it even says convertens est animalis. It practically has ‘animal’ in the title.” Yoongi pointed to the top of the book, raising his brow as if he had solved the biggest mystery in the universe; how Jeon Jungkook managed to sleep in a bed with no bedding. 

Jin scoffed. “Alright, Min genius. What does the rest of it say, if you’re so smart.” Jin rolled his eyes. He had low expectations of Yoongi actually being able to read the dead language, but he couldn’t see the harm in letting him try. 

Yoongi inspected the book closely. “Volatilia ad sibi similia,” Yoongi mused. “That sounds kind of familiar.” He leant back in the chair once more, lifting the book to his face. 

As Yoongi silently read, Jin decided that he was going to see if he could find more information on the book online. He pulled out his phone, determined to search for the title of the book. 

Mutantur et nos.

Huh. Well that didn’t sound good, Jin thought as he typed it into his phone. Surely a book that had ‘mutant’ on the cover was going to lead to no good?

The first result led to a wikipedia page for Tempora Mutantur. It explained the term as the ‘changes that passages of time brings’, but was more commonly known as  Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis -  ‘Times are changed, we also are changed with them.’

Jin narrowed his eyes. Well, that wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Jin continued to scroll through the results, but not one linked to the book in Yoongi’s hand.

“Huh,” Yoongi expelled. He glanced at the front cover.

“What?” Jin lowered his phone to glance at the man beside him.

“I think this is a magic book.” Yoongi met Jin’s gaze with wide eyes.

“Pft, I doubt that.” Jin laughed. “It’s some stupid book that was probably written in the last half of the century that Taehyung was conned into taking home. You know, like half the junk he brings home from that place.”

“Hm. Guess it won’t hurt to try it then,” Yoongi countered, sitting up straight.

“Wait, what-”

“Aves sumus,” Yoongi declared proudly. 

For a beat, nothing happened. 

Jin laughed, shaking his head. “See, I told you it was-“

Jin’s head swirled. It was like he was about to faint, the whole room moving around him with the force of an earthquake. The book clattered to the floor beside him.

“-garbage.” Jin stared down at the book, not quite contemplating what happened. He felt funny. Smaller, somehow. He was standing on the edge of the couch, the coffee table, which had been in arm’s reach the moment before, seemed to be miles away from him. But that was impossible. How could the coffee table move in the blink of an eye? “Why did you drop-“ Jin turned towards Yoongi. 

Except Yoongi was no longer next to him. In his place was a beautiful blue parakeet with his head tilted to one side as he peered at Jin.

“Uh, Yoongi… I don’t know how to tell you this, but... you’re a bird.”

The bird – Yoongi – hopped to face Jin. “What do you think you are then?” Yoongi countered without missing a beat.

Jin froze as Yoongi’s words washed over him. He couldn’t really be a bird. That was ridiculous! 

He glanced down at his body, taking in the vibrant green feathers in place of his body and orange claws that stood where his feet once were. 

“Yoongi, what did you do?!” Jin screamed. He could feel his wings stretching at the exclamation, unable to stay still as he felt his heart rate increase. “Are you stupid, why would you read something from the magic book out loud?” Jin edged his way closer to the end of the sofa, contemplating the best way to get onto the floor so he could read the blasted book and find a way to turn them back. “And you’re stupid enough to drop the damn book, gah. So stupid, I swear-“

But the rest of his sentence was forgotten as Yoongi’s body slammed into his and they both went tumbling towards the floor. 

Dazed, Jin could only lie there as the sound of Taehyung walking through the lounge passed them, his brief call of ‘bye’ ringing through the quiet apartment. And then the door closed and any hope of seeking a human’s help - and hands - went out of the window. 

Jin clambered to his feet – talons? “Why would you do that!” he screeched.

“He would have freaked out!” Yoongi struggled to stand, shaking his feathers once upright. 

Jin wanted to strangle Yoongi but he doubted his claws would wrap around Yoongi’s neck enough to satisfy the urge. 

“But he could have helped us!” Jin hopped towards Yoongi, his temper rising. Jin wasn’t one to lose his cool very often, but considering the current situation, he felt like he was fine to be stressed out.

Yoongi, however, remained un-phased as he stretched out his wings and inspected them. “Eh, we can figure it out ourselves.” 

Jin was sure that if they were both human, Yoongi would have shrugged. Instead, Yoongi’s wings gave a slight shudder in what you could have only assumed to be a shrug. 

“Fantastic. And how do you propose we do that without opposable thumbs?” Jin’s head tilted towards the book laying face down on the floor beside them.

“Easy. We just need to turn the book.” Yoongi hopped until he was standing on the book. In his mind, it was quite simple. He would grip the hardback cover between his claws and somehow utilise his wings to fly upwards until the book naturally turned over by sheer force of gravity. 

It was a brilliant idea, Yoongi concluded, because of how simple it was. And everyone knew that the best ideas were always the simplest.

Jin watched as Yoongi struggled to even lift off from the ground. His friend hopped like mad, but no matter how fast he flapped his wings, Yoongi never stayed up for longer than a moment. 

“Maybe try flapping your wings slower,” Jin mused, struggling to keep the humour from his voice. Despite how depressing the whole situation was, he had to admit watching Yoongi trying to flip the book was hilarious. He was pretty sure the only time he’d seen the sullen musician move this much was when Jungkook had tried wrestling him. And even then, that was only to lock himself in his room before Jungkook could get a hold of him. 

“Shut up, hyung. I… got… this…” Yoongi huffed. He stopped jumping, planting his talons firmly on the edge of the book. He took a moment to spread his wings. He had this. If birds could figure it out, so could he.

He flapped his wings hard. Once. Twice. Three times. 

He hovered, slowly gaining more height. Jin whopped as he watched Yoongi slowly taking off from the ground.

But he wasn’t moving fast enough and Yoongi could feel the energy drain from his body. So he did what he thought was the logical thing to do; he started to flap his wings harder. But as he tried to keep the momentum going, he found his body naturally leaned forward and caused him to fly straight into the coffee table with a loud ‘thud’.

The book dropped pathetically to its original position as Yoongi’s head connected to the side of the table, landing on his back beneath it. He groaned, trying to figure out exactly where he had gone wrong when Jin’s green feathered face appeared.

“I told you, stupid. We need Taehyung.”

Yoongi glared up at him. “Fine. Point made.” Yoongi rolled onto his front, talons comically running with the side of his beak firmly pressed to the ground as he attempted to stand once more. Once up, a shudder passed through him, wings briefly opening before settling back at his side. “We’ll just have to wait for him to come home.” 

 “But we don’t know how long he’ll be!” Jin whined, his talons hitting the wooden floor in quick succession. It was a lewd imitation of one of his famous strops.

Yoongi rolled his eyes as he hid behind the leg of the coffee table. He wondered if Jin would notice if he laid down for a few moments. Yoongi was just about to settle himself down when-

“Ah!” Jin tripped over the book.

“Are you finished with your strop now?” Yoongi asked, his amusement not quite hidden in his tone.

“This is all your fault!” Jin cried as he rolled back onto his front and standing with considerably more ease than Yoongi had. “We have no idea how long this – this curse will last! You could have turned us into birds forever, Yoongi. Forever!”

“Sheesh, I’m sure this is all temporary, Jin hyung. No need to get your boxers in a twist.”

“We don’t know that, you idiot. You don’t even know what you said in the first place. For all you know you could have said “I want to be turned into a freaking pigeon for the rest of my life!”

Yoongi hummed. “We’re certainly not pigeon’s, hyung. We look more like budgies.” Yoongi turned to look back at Jin..

“Oh-oh-oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Maybe if I was still in my human body, maybe I could have googled the answer before speaking!” Jin snapped.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. This was all pointless now. The deed was done, they just had to deal with it. Besides, Yoongi thought as he stretched out his wings, he had always dreamt about flying. If he could figure it out, the deal wouldn’t be so bad. 

Jin stopped pacing as he mulled over Yoongi’s words. 

“Jin?” Yoongi stepped closer towards him. “Earth to Jin?”

Jin’s gaze snapped back to Yoongi. “That’s it!” Jin’s talon’s slapped against the wooden floor as he sprinted out of the room.

“Agh, Jin! What did you figure out?” Yoongi made no attempt to follow his older brother. Not because he wasn’t curious. He was, but all that jumping and flapping wings had really taken it out of him and he really didn’t feel like sprinting after Jin.

There was silence for a few moments. Then the sound of something hitting the floor and Jin’s frustrated scream.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi called, leaning against one of the legs of the coffee table.

Yoongi was starting to grow concerned by the silence when Jin appeared around the corner.

“Where’s your phone?” Jin demanded, walking slowly towards him.

“On the sofa…” Yoongi watched as Jin moved towards the sofa, standing just at the foot of it.

“Siri, call Taehyung.” Jin screeched. He waited for the acknowledgement before screaming it again.

“Hyung… what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to remotely call Taehyung. What does it look like I’m doing?” Jin snapped.

“Well, it would help if I had Taehyung saved as ‘Taehyung’ on my phone. That and I don’t have Siri.”

“What do you mean you don’t have Siri?” 

“I don’t trust it. It’s just… weird.”

“It’s not weird. It’s convenient. You know, like right now.”

Yoongi’s right wing twitched in a poor imitation of a shrug. 

“Fat lot of use, you are.” Jin muttered. “There must be something we can do?”

Yoongi watched as Jin started to pace back and forth, talons clacking incessantly. Yoongi doubted that suggesting they simply wait for Taehyung to return would be any help, so he bit his tongue.

Jin groaned as he flopped to the floor. “This is useless. We’re going to die as birds.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Jin. We’re not going to die.”

“Well how do you know that, Yoongi? Did you understand what you read?”

“No.”

“Then we could very well-“

A shrill ring sounded in the apartment, causing both men to freeze.

“Was that- was that the phone?” Jin asked.

“We have a house phone?” 

“Yes, you imbecile. We do.” Jin scattered to his feet, chasing after the sound. “Where is it? Where is it?”

“Have you tried Taehyung-ah’s room?”

Jin hurried to the youngster’s bedroom. “Oh for christ sake, it’s on his damn bed.” The ringing stopped. “And there goes our chance.” 

“Hello. Your call cannot be taken at this moment-“

“What’s that?” Yoongi called as he searched the room for the source of the voice. His gaze landed on a rectangular box next besides the TV.

“The answering machine! Thank you, Namjoon!”

“Please leave your message after the tone.” A beep sounded. The sound of music filled the room.

“Ah, Jin, Yoongi! Jimin and I have decided we want to hit a few clubs. Don’t wait up for me.”  The phone clicked. 

Jin appeared from around the corner. “Was that Taehyung’s voice I heard? Did he say he was on his way home?”

Yoongi was frozen to the spot. Jin was not going to like this. “Not… exactly.”

Jin appeared by his side. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Taehyung-ah was phoning to let us know that… he won’t be home for a while.”

“What!?”

“They’ve gone clubbing.”

“What!?”

“Now, I know what you’re going to say.” Yoongi stepped away from Jin, who was now gazing at Yoongi as if he was contemplating the slowest and most painful way of murdering him.

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes. And I just want to say.” They both stopped in their tracks, waiting for the others' reaction first. Yoongi took a deep breath. “You’ll have to catch me first.” He was off before he had even finished speaking, using the element of surprise to get a head start. 

Jin screeched after him, his words an incomprehensible babble as he charged after Yoongi. He only reached the edge of the sofa when he was stopped by the sound of pounding on the door. 

“The door.” Jin changed directions, charging the door. “The door!”

“Jin, watch out!” Yoongi called, far too late. 

Jin tried to slow himself down, talons skidding across the floor before colliding head first into the frame.

Yoongi winced.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s muffled voice called from behind the door. “Hyung’s, are you alright?”

“No!” Jin wailed, moving away from the door with a limp. “Junkook-ah, let yourself in. We need your help!” 

The handle rattled. 

“Please don’t be locked,” Jin prayed.

The door opened slowly, Jungkook’s head appearing around the frame first before the door opened fully.

“Hello?” he called out, glancing around the empty living room. “Jin hyung? Are you here?”

Jin hopped on the ground. “Down here!”

Jungkook frowned as his gaze darted around the room. “Down where?” He stepped into the room. On his second step, his foot landed close to Jin. 

Jin shrieked. “Watch where you're stepping!”

Jungkook looked down, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Jungkook-ah, we need you to grab that book and-“

Jungkook turned on his heel and fled from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Well, that went well,” Yoongi commented. 

Jin spun to face him. “You don’t get to speak.” He hissed. “We wouldn’t be having this problem right now if it weren’t for you.”

“Alright, alright. Remind me to buy you some looser boxers when this is all over with.” Yoongi chuckled, but stop when he realised the murder was very real in Jin’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“Now what are we going to do? Jungkook was our one chance to get help.” Jin slouched, dragging his talons as he made his way back over to the coffee table. He paused by the book, then kicked it with his talon before dropping his body on top of it.

Yoongi waddled towards him. “Jungkook’s seen us now. It’s only a matter of time before he walks back through that door to make sure his video game riddled brain wasn’t lying to him.”

Jin groaned, not bothering to lift his head from the book.

“I’m telling you, hyung. Jin’s a pigeon.” The door swung open once more and Hoseok and Jungkook stepped inside.

Hoseok rubbed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.” He said in a pout.

They both stopped to stare at Yoongi who was still standing in the middle of the room.

“Jungkook. Hoseok. Nothing to see here.” Yoongi waddled towards Jin.

“Ah, why would you tell them that! We need their help!” Jin snapped as he got back up onto his talons. 

“See, I told you.” Jungkook smugly turned to Hoseok. 

Hoseok's eyes widened at the sight, before he promptly fainted. 

“Oh, yeah. Probably should have suspected that would happen.” Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand briefly before closing the door. 

“I’ll deal with him.” Yoongi puffed out his chest as he moved towards Hoseok’s body. 

“Jungkook-ah, get your butt over here and pick this book up!” Jin demanded, hopping in front the book to garner the younger man’s attention. 

“Why, what’s a book going to do?” Jungkook slowly picked the book up, frowning as he flicked through the pages.

“Well it’s this blasted book that got us into this mess. Now pick me up so I can read too,” Jin whined, flaying his head from side to side until Jungkook offered Jin his palm. As soon as Jungkook placed him on the table, Jin pecked the table. “Put the book here.”

“Cor, you're still as bossy as ever, hyung,” Jungkook muttered.

“You’re telling me,” Yoongi agreed, inspecting Hoseok’s sleeping floor. “How the hell am I supposed to slap him with no hands?” He mused.  

“Your wings?” Jungkook offered absentmindedly as he turned another page in the book.

Yoongi considered it for a moment, before shrugging. There was no harm in trying, after all. 

Using his talons, he struggled to lift himself up onto Hoseok’s sleeping form. His talons grabbed while he utilised his beak to hoist himself up. Once settled onto his chest, he waddled his way to Hoseok's face. He stretched his wings, contemplating the best way to slap him before deciding to just go with it. 

What he didn’t expect was how lightly his wings would hit Hoseok’s face. 

Hoseok giggled, a happy smile plastered onto his face.

“Jungkook-ah, it’s not working.” Yoongi stopped his assault with a sigh. 

“That tickles,” Hoseok giggled, eyes opening slowly. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes landed on Yoongi.

“Morning, sunshine,” Yoongi chirped.

Hoseok screamed, knocking Yoongi off his chest in his attempt to stand. 

Yoongi landed on his feet with a shudder. “Watch what you’re doing!” He barked.

“He’s a bird!” Hoseok pointed at Yoongi as he sought out Jungkook.

“Yeah, so’s Jin,” Jungkook commented without looking up from the book.

“Hoseok, stop playing around and help us fix this.” Jin stamped his talons on the coffee table. “And bring that fool with you.” 

Hoseok looked wearily at Yoongi.

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m not going to bite.” Yoongi cocked his head. “Much.”

Hoseok glared at Yoongi, but slowly lowered himself to the ground and offered Yoongi his hand. Yoongi hopped on happily, whistling as Hoseok lowered him to the table.

Jin shouldered him. “I don’t know what you’re so happy about.”

“What’s not to be happy about?” 

“You do realise birds don’t sleep as often as humans, right hyung?” Jungkook finally looked up from the book with a smile.

“What?” Yoongi froze.

“Yeah, and their life span is shorter,” Jin chipped in.

Yoongi stopped closer to Jungkook. “Turn me back. I can’t live like this.”

“Finally!” Jin groaned.

“Are you all quite finished?” Jungkook laughed. “I think I found one.”

“I am so lost right now,” Hoseok whined, looking between them all in absolute bafflement. 

“What part of Yoongi read from a damn cursed book and turned us into bloody birds do you not understand?” Jin huffed.

“All of it.” Hoseok sat down heavily on the sofa. 

“You really thought Einstein here was going to help? Why didn’t you grab Namjoon?” Yoongi laughed. 

“Namjoon went out to meet up with Taehyung and Jimin. Trust me, hyung. He wouldn’t have been my first choice either.” Jungkook smiled.

“Hey! I can be useful!” Hoseok protested, grabbing the book from the table and standing. “Let’s see. What about this one here?”

“No!” Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jin all yelled. Jungkook attempted to grab the book from Hoseok, but it was too late. He had already finished reading the sentence.

For a moment nothing happened.

“What a load of-” Hoseok started but stopped when he realised that he was no longer standing on the floor. “Uh-oh.”

Jungkook grabbed the book from Hoseok. “That’s why we weren’t reading from the book.” He tapped Hoseok’ head with the book before sitting back down. “Right, let’s try this again.”

Ten spells, a broken vase, an exploded lightbulb, and a very confusing body swap later, Jungkook finally found the right spell. 

A bright light filled the apartment, blinding them all. Once their vision had returned, Yoongi and Jin were back in the right bodies and Hoseok was back on the ground. 

The four men collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the complete disaster zone the living room had become. 

“All in favour of burning that blasted book, say aye.” Jin said.

“Aye.” The other three agreed in unison.

“What happened here?” Taehyung stood in the open front door and stared around the living room with his mouth wide open.

“You don’t even want to know, Tae.” Jungkook shook his head. 

Taehyung slowly approached them. “Seriously, you look like you just went to war?”

“Sure feels like it too,” Yoongi groaned as he stretched his neck.

Taehyung picked up the book from the coffee table, idly flicking it open. “I wonder what this says?” He mused.

Hoseok jumped to his feet and slapped the book to the floor. “No!” He pointed his finger in Taehyung’s face. “We are not going through that again.”

Taehyung laughed. “You read it out loud, didn’t you?” He picked the book up, shaking his head. “Rooky mistake.” He walked back to his room, continuing to chuckle to himself.

“I don’t believe it.” Jin gasped. “The git knew.”

“What other magical stuff is he hiding in there?” Yoongi mused.

“I swear, if you turn yourself into something else, I am not helping.” Hoseok threw up his hands.

While the four boys continued to bicker in the living room, Taehyung closed the door to his bedroom and walked over to his bookshelf. He skimmed over the titles of the books before finally settling on a brown leather-bound book, not unlike the one he held in his hand.

He opened the page and smiled. “Just what I thought.” He closed the book and replaced it on the shelf, placing beside it the one he had acquired that day. 

He knew it had sounded familiar when Mr Choi had described the book and now, he knew why. It was, in fact, one of the books his granny had transcribed. He laughed as he imagined the sort of trouble his friends had got themselves into. 

#mikrogalaxynet #bts #taehyung #yoongi #jin #jungkook #hoseok #bts au #bts fanfiction #jimin #namjoon #bts fanfic #bts written #bts writing #bts story

[priorireverte]

Congratulations Marcia!

Your application for Cho Chang has been accepted, with the discussed changes about her working with the Returned. I can’t wait to see how Cho handles both those unstable revived and her own lasting trauma from the war.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Marcia, she/her

TIMEZONE: GMT+7

ACTIVITY LEVEL: My activity level is pretty fluctuative depending on how college is doing but since college is all online right now, I have lots of time to roleplay.

ANYTHING ELSE: Triggers: sexual assault. I’ve actually roleplayed Cho a few times so I’m quite familiar with her character!

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Cho Chang

BIRTHDATE: 15 November 1979

DEATHDATE: -

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Female, she/her, as far as Cho is concerned, she’s straight but she definitely has biromantic tendencies. She has been dating boys and men exclusively but has definitely had crushes on girls and women. She just never acts on them due to her own confusion regarding her sexuality.

BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

OCCUPATION: Currently unemployed. Previously before the Battle of Hogwarts, Cho was admitted to St. Mungo’s Healing program as their newest Healer-in-training. She worked overtime shifts after the war ended and found that she needed time away from her profession. She needed to re-evaluate her life goals, ambitions, and the things she really wanted to do. So she resigned and was planning on joining a non-profit group whose mission is to help Wizarding communities around the world rebuild when she heard of the Returned. She felt compelled to stay in England in light of recent news.

FACECLAIM: Jessica Henwick. 

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

POSTBELLUM:

Cho felt the war before it even happened, knew it was coming while everyone else closed their eyes to it. Its effects have not left her since the moment Harry brought back Cedric’s cold dead body. She mourned and mourned and fell into grief. Grief left unresolved and added to as the war swept through her and the people around her. As she watched the people closest to her lose and die. She tried to move on from the war. She attended the memorials and the wakes and then went home telling herself that she was okay. But found herself opening another bottle of alcohol instead. The first few months were the hardest. She cried a lot and could not even take time off from her work because St. Mungo’s was running at full capacity and she was not the only one hurting. So she bottled her unresolved grief up. The only solace during this period was the presence of her mother, a Muggle woman who could never fully comprehend the ugliness of a Wizarding war as she is so removed from it after her divorce from Cho’s father. Cho was urged to go to therapy, Muggle therapy. It worked, sort of. Even though she had to alter details of her story, of what actually happened, she found solace in confiding in someone, in taking medications. She’s getting better. She keeps a journal now where she writes her dreams and nightmares and all the good things that have happened to her thus far. Recently, she added three words to the journal, under the “Good Things” section: “Survived the war.” For now, surviving is enough.

When she first heard of the Returned, hope bloomed in her chest as she thought of the families and friends that could be reunited. This is a happy event, right? It’s practically a reunion! And she did feel happy. Joyful at such a turn of events. At the fact that death can no longer keep people apart. That the war, in the end, did not take so much from her. But then she heard of Cedric’s arrival, of the possibility of him being back in her life, this first love of hers. The boy she mourned and cried over, and she felt like keeling over. It isn’t that she does not want him to live again. It’s that how is she going to navigate life with him again in it? Is she going to pretend to never know him so that she can continue on peacefully? Or should she seek him out? See where things could actually lead now that he’s alive again? Everything is complicated and she does not know how to feel. Long long ago she lost him and grew up too quickly. But now he’s here again and has not aged a day and she’s a woman he could no longer recognize.

PERSONALITY:

 Cho Chang has an innate curiosity within her, this want to know more, to stretch magic thin and find out what it actually is capable of. A scholar approach to things. She wants to combine and mix and concoct and see what comes out of it. A natural researcher, a born academic. When people see her, they see someone who is kind and good. Someone who volunteers to finish group projects when no one else wants to. A doormat. A bit of a well-meaning pushover. Someone that can easily be taken advantage of. But in actuality, she uses her kindness as a weapon, as her bargaining point. She extends and withdraws it in accordance  to the attitude and respect people give her. Her friends say she has Slytherin tendencies and they are right. Even the Sorting Hat thought Slytherin would be good for her. Se cares too much about what people think. There’s a need within her to fulfil expectations and to present herself only in the loveliest of ways. She puts a mirage on herself. She’s not as open as she looks. She tells you one thing but holds back five others. But she’s a loyal friend who will push you to be better. She’s a good listener and adviser. She’ll never say “I told you so” and she never holds a grudge. She hands out second chances and gives people the benefit of the doubt.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: 

Cho’s mother’s family is rich and posh. They’re old money and they have lived within the same neighbourhood in London for generations. Cho’s mother graduated from a respectable Muggle university with an art historian degree. She works as an art curator for a museum. Her father’s family back in Taiwan in contrast is very middle class. Her father moved to England for a better life, to be able to send money back home to pay for his sick father’s mounting hospital bills. He found employment in the Ministry for Magic and climbed his way up. He’s now a diplomat.

Cho’s parents divorced when she was five. She spent five days a week in her mother’s house, a Muggle townhouse bought by her grandparents, during her childhood. The other two days she spent at her father’s flat. Since her parents divorced when she was young, she does not have any resentment towards them for separating. After all, the two are fine as co-parents. What she finds burdensome about their divorce however is the clear divide between her magical and Muggle extended families and how she has to juggle the two. How she is forever stuck in the middle of Muggle and magical, rich and not rich, privileged and unprivileged.

But her parents are great overall. Her mother has a revolving door of boyfriends and her father has his work as a diplomat to drown himself in. Cho is naturally closer to her maternal grandparents than her paternal ones who live in Taipei and she only sees once a year at most. She’s an only child so she receives a lot of attention.

HISTORY: 

Cho Chang’s formative years were pretty normal. She was born inside a Muggle hospital at the insistence of her grandparents and then brought home to the family’s townhouse in Kensington. She was one of those kids whose parents pampered them. They could not give her one big happy family so they made up for it by making sure that she was never without anything she wanted. She had toys and a dollhouse and a chinchilla. She had two bedrooms in two different houses, each one decorated with her favourite hue of blue. There was never any restrictions on what she could and could not do. She played with her cousins and the neighbourhood kids. She went to a Muggle elementary school when she was old enough. Learnt how to read and write, found herself entranced by language and literature, struggled at maths but excelled at science. And then she said goodbye to her Muggle friends and told me she was going to a boarding school when her Hogwarts letter arrived.

Her Hogwarts years were good too. The hat placed her in Ravenclaw and she enjoyed her time there. An uneasiness built up inside her however as everyone looked at her and called her pretty. They fawned over and she did not know whether they saw true beauty or someone exotic and different enough from them to gawk over. When she was the only girl admitted to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, she accepted it but found it odd that no other girl was good enough for the team. Nevertheless, she carried on. Charms and Potions were her strongest subjects. When it came to Transfiguration, she was so so. She focused on herself and did well and had fun with her friends. They’d hang out in groups and go to Hogsmeade together. There’s a spot on the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall meant just for her and her group of friends.

One day, Marietta Edgecombe pointed out that Cedric Diggory was staring at her. The rest was history. There were dates and a whirlwind romance. There was happiness. And then, everything was snuffed out. She played the part of the grieving girlfriend, emotional and weepy, and irritated her friends with her cries. Everything fell apart. Her grades dropped. Several professors kind enough to close their eyes on her academic incompetency gave her leniency. Professor Flitwick cautioned her about her grades and her career choices. She went to the library and had another cry and picked Healer. She dated Harry Potter and then Michael Corner. It was all a blur, just another Hogwarts boy to laugh about in the future. When graduation came she was so happy. She enrolled in the Healing program, became a Healer, and helped as much as she could with the war efforts. She went to Hogwarts for the Battle.

OOC EXPLORATION:

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I’m looking forward to the idea of Cho having to reverse all her grieving and mourning if that makes sense? Like Cho having to reconstruct her life again, to make sense of her trauma and hurt all over again. I also would love to see what a Cho-Cedric friendship or aftermath would look like after the war.

ANYTHING ELSE? Enjoy this playlist for Cho I made! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6FaZMH55GqPSogRg07ju5H?si=4rM8UPiDTgyBbNisAS1vNw

#prioriacceptance #prioriannouncement #cho chang #admin.emmy

[adora2723]

Supercorp

It was a precarious situation. Lena wondered how she always seems to find herself in the middle of those. Right now, Supergirl was tied to a wall, barely conscious due to the Kryptonite conveniently placed all around her; just the right amount to subdue her yet keep her aware of her surroundings.

Lena had just come to after being knocked unconscious by Eve in her office. She should have seen that coming, she thought to herself. Her head throbbed in sync to the beat of her pulse. She watched her brother pace back and forth in front of a screen, replaying what seemed like every interaction she ever had with Supergirl on a loop. Something wet and warm trickled down her forehead, and when she reached she found her fingers sticky with red, hot blood.

“Ah, finally! You’re awake. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up for 13 minutes Lena. You know it’s rude to keep people waiting, I taught you better than that. Sit up straight! Respect is built on the foundation of propriety and composure. Show your big brother some respect! Then again, it is not entirely your fault is it? Miss Teschmacher may have been a tad bit... overzealous in her execution.”

“What am I doing here Lex?” Lena bit out.

“Yes of course, straight to the point as usual. You see, I told you, Lena, to always mind the company you keep. And sure, I can disregard many things... you sending me to jail: sibling rivalry. Changing the company name: petulant yet expected. But, working together with that alien scum to take me down is a betrayal I wasn’t expecting from you!” Lex’ voice started out as mild taunting but by the end had been consumed by rage. He was living up to his reputation as a mad man; wildly gesticulating, spit flying everywhere. If he had had hair it would be sticking out in all directions. So much for composure.

Of course Lena knew what this was about. She’s known for three weeks, ever since Lex escaped from prison, that he was going to come after her. She wasn’t really worried about herself; she knew their confrontation was inevitable. Neither could live as long as the other survived. If only her life was as magical as these novels. Unlike Harry though, she was all alone. No dependents who would suffer from her proximity, no family to mourn her untimely and cruel death, and no friends who would miss her during random lunch dates or impromptu game nights. Well, one friend. Kara. Kara was her solace in an otherwise dreary existence. Kara who she had come to care for as more than the best friend she pretended to be. Kara who she should have cut ties with as soon as she received the first foreboding letter. The letter, sent anonymously by Lex, that seemingly was just fanmail by a devoted admirer, sweetly relaying his adulation through Ancient Greek song. Turns out she could have avoided a tragedy, but she was Icarus flying too close to the sun, incapable to resist. She will pay the price for this.

“Let her go. Please! It is me you want. Take me!” Supergirl feebly tried to fight off her restraints. Her voice barely audible, rough and scratchy from exhaustion. Lena admired her perseverance. Supergirl’s sense for justice never seemed selfrighteous, a feat her cousin couldn’t quite pull off. Despite their dissent Supergirl didn’t falter in trying to protect her; maybe in a promise to Kara? Wishful thinking.

“There won’t be much of you left to take, Kryptonian! Besides, you have no value to me, no. This is personal. This time I came here to quench my thirst for revenge. You see, most people think we Luthors don’t have emotions. And usually they would be right in their assessment, however limited it might be. Average brains produce average results. But nothing about us Luthors is average. We are eminent, exceptional, extraordinary. And so are our feelings. And you,” he turned his burning eyes to Lena, “hurt mine. It is not just that. It is a matter of respect, isn’t it. How dare you drag our name through the mud-”

“Me?! I wasn’t the one who went on a suicidal mission-”

“How DARE you use MY company, my brain, my knowledge, my tech for the empowerment of those roaches ?!  HOW DARE YOU. Everything you have is because of me. Everything you built, every business deal you closed, every prestigious award you got, the recognition, the applaud, the esteem. EVERYTHING you are, is because of me. Without me you are nothing. I made you who you are and you go against me.” He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply, seemingly gathering his composure. “How dare you betray me like that, sis?” He turned his back to her. Supergirl was stunned speechless, deliriously following Lex’ tirade. Lena used this opportunity to scan her surroundings. They were being held in what looked like some sort of cave. It was dark and moist, and the air smelled of sulfur. Against the confinements of the cavern Lex had constructed his head-quarters. The only exit was a tight tunnel, pitch-black and not very promising to aid them in their escape to daylight, it was also very inconveniently located on the opposite end of where Supergirl was tied up. And Lena was not leaving without her. Their future seemed dismal.

Lex took a deep inhale. “It is vile. What you did to me... I want you to feel it to. Before I kill you, I will see the same betrayal in your eyes and on your dying breath you will realise, that you were alone all along, just like me.” 

“She is not alone! And she will never be like you. Don’t listen to him Lena.” Lex laughed hysterically. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Supergirl. See, I realised some while ago that people with feelings tend to be more concerned about their loved ones. Indeed, they care more about those who are near and dear to them, completely disregarding their own self in the act, which turns out to be the grounds of their demise. And, unfortunately for you, Lena, you are as selfless and tempestuous as they come.” Lex paused for seemingly no other reason than dramatic effect. For a guy so aversed to theatrics he had a flair for ostentatious performance.

He side-eyed Supergirl surreptitiously. “Say, how is that reporter friend of yours? Kara Danvers?” Lex smirked mischievously. Supergirl began fidgeting frantically. Lena’s brain whirred to life. She started working through all the ways that this could play out at a highspeed. “What about her?” She chose nonchalance. She knew she had been putting Kara at risk by befriending her, but staying away seemed impossible. If anything happened to the bubbly reporter just because Lena wanted to indulge in a hopeless little crush, Lena would never forgive herself.

It might have even been more than a crush. Lena remembers the night vividly that she realised she was in too deep. They had known each other for a little over a year by then. Eventhough they were colleagues now (well, technically, she was her boss) the acquisition of Catco brought with it a shitload of paperwork, board meetings, and late-night phone calls that had to be dealt with, and Lena was stretched even thinner than usual. They hadn’t seen each other for a month after their reconciliation, and Lena was just happy to spend some quality time with her best friend who finally seemed to be over her ex. When Kara had initially invited her over Lena wanted to decline. Abstaining that long from Kara’s cheeriness had made her revert back to old customs. Lena had resigned herself to go back to being lonely, writing Kara off as a shooting star that briefly flew by to illuminate her firmament for a precious while, too good to last. But Kara had insisted and she couldn’t resist her pull. 

So she had made herself comfortable on Kara’s couch, dressed down in comfy clothes that no one was allowed to see her in except for Kara. She had ordered Chinese food, knowing Lena’s taste by heart, and while Lena was animatedly telling her about her childhood before she was adopted, Kara not so sneakily stole some chicken from her box. There was nothing new about that; Kara was known to be a voracious eater and often snuck some food in from foreign plates. What she did next, however, was unprecedented: she replaced the chicken with a potsticker from her own plate. She had spent enough time with the Danvers sisters to know that Kara sharing food had near-apocalyptic implications. But for her to do it so casually, while keenly and earnestly absorbing every word of Lena’s most treasured tales, that’s what made Lena’s heart simultaneously expand and implode at once. In the warmth of the fairy lights, lounging on the snuggly sofa, Lena lost her heart to riveting eyes and giddy laughter.

Now, she wished she would have closed her eyes and made a wish. Letting the shooting star take its destined course. Now, that star was gonna crash and burn, diminishing all hope in its wake, all because Lena could not stay away. Because Lena was selfish. “Don’t play dumb now, sis, inanity doesn’t suit you. We all know how you feel about that bimbo. Though I have to admit, you always had a keen eye for beauty. Unfortunately, you never bothered to look beyond what’s on the surface. Well, how do they say? ‘Love is blind.’ Isn’t it right, Supergirl?”

If they weren’t in a situation of life and death Lena would have been petrified. She was very careful to never show even an ounce of her overwhelming affection to anybody. Least of all people who she knew were connected to Kara and might tell her about Lena’s deplorable feelings causing Kara to finally abandon her, kindness be damned. Least of all people who had a unyielding sense of rectitude and might believe Kara had a right to know about what Lena was so desperately hiding. Least of all people like Supergirl.

Alas, she had more pressing matters to attend. “Don’t you dare touch her! You hear me, Lex, you go after her and you will regret the day you were born!” Lex’ grin turned from smug to wicked. “Oh, don’t worry little sis, I won’t even come near her. You see, it just happened to be the case that you, dearest Lena, embraced the provenance of your own demise. It just happens that delay is the deadliest form of denial. And you’ve been in denial for so long. We Luthors, we do feel emotions. Just not all of them, no, only the crucial ones. Avarice, pride, rage, and betrayal. Fuelling our power. And once you feel that betrayal, Lena, you will kill for me two birds with one stone. You will drive yourself to death in your quest for revenge and you will take that pathetic Supergirl with you. Feel the rage Lena. Feel the betrayal.”

Lex turned towards the screens mounted on the cave walls just as Supergirl tore free of her restraints in an anguished scream.                    

#ok guys I just want to say that this is the first fanfic I ever wrote #like EVER #EVER EVER #and any type of feedback is kindly appreciated #so please feel free to drop a message :) #supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #kara zor el #lena luthor #kara x lena #lena x kara #karlena #supercorp reveal #supercorp fanfic #supercorp au #supergirl reveal #supergirl fanfic #supergirl au #lex luthor #the luthors #fanfic #fanfiction

[themummersfolly]

Ami du Roi - Ave, pt 1

@nuingiliath @skeleton-richard @ardenrosegarden @princess-of-france @shredsandpatches @harry-leroy @stripedroseandsketchpads

Well this wound up being a lot longer than I had anticipated. You guys are not going to like the ending.

-------

24 October, A.D. 1415

The words fell from his lips in soft, familiar cadence as he rolled each bead of the paternoster between his fingers:

Ave Maria, gratia plena

Dominus tecum.

He had said these prayers every day since childhood, seeking sometimes insight, sometimes solace in the rote words. Even now, they brought him some peace.

Benedicta tu in mulieribus

Et benedictus fructus ventris tui

Candlelight glowed on the gold beads: a New Year’s gift from his cousin, long, long ago in a happier time. As he reached the Amen, he bowed his head once more and whispered a final plea:

Pray for me, Marie.

She had been gone five years now, dead in childbed, giving him his youngest son. He still had not found it within himself to replace her, despite the turmoil, the need for alliances and heirs. If his cousin had been well, he would have urged him to remarry.

If his cousin had been well…

“Mon seigneur.” The tent flap moved and Thierry, his body servant, poked his face through. “Maréchal Boucicaut approaches.”

“Very good, I’ll receive him.” Charles D’Albret folded the paternoster carefully and returned it to its pouch.

If my cousin were well, none of this would be happening.

He stood and stretched – the damp chill brought out an ache in one leg that never really went away. Thierry held the tent flap as he ducked out, buckling on his sword as he went.

Jean Le Maingre, known to most as Boucicaut, stood outside, mud-spattered to the knee. He looked annoyed.

“My Lord Constable.”

“God keep you, good Marshal. How now?”

“The Duke d’Alençon keeps sending me runners.”

D’Albret willed his jaw to unclench. “I’m not moving him. There’s no more room in the vanguard.”

“He’s afraid that by the time his division is brought into play, he’ll have missed his share of the glory. He told me he’s not a carrion bird, to be tasked with picking off the dead.”

“Alençon is a valiant knight, but he can be a fool. I’d have sent him home by now if I thought I could.”

Boucicaut’s mouth tightened in a straight line: agreement. “At least Orleans seems content with his placement, now.”

“I’m keeping him by me on the morrow. This will be his first real battle; I don’t want him getting more ‘glory’ than he knows what to do with.” An image came to mind, unbidden: Louis d’Orleans lying on the cobblestones, his blood and brains mixing with the filth from the street. Young Charles looked so much like him, it was easy to picture him in his father’s place… D’Albret forced the vision down. “The king would never forgive me if something happened to him.” The Marshal nodded. “What else?”

“You’re going to have to have a word with my brother.”

“Geffroi? Again?”

“I caught him and some of his men heading toward the sieur de Graville’s contingent. You know he has a score to settle –”

“Mon Dieu, are the English not foes enough?”

“I’m sorry to make you deal with this. I’ve tried talking to him – you know he won’t listen to me.”

“Well, he’ll listen to me or he’ll sit this one out.”

“Fair enough.” Boucicaut glanced over the Constable’s shoulder. “Pity.”

“Hm?” D’Albret turned, following his gaze into the darkness beyond the pickets.

“The English. They don’t seem to be having so many problems with discipline. We could use an ounce or two of their mettle.”

“I suppose it’s easier to order a smaller host.” Christ, there weren’t even watchfires over there. He realized his hand was clenched on the hilt of his sword; he made himself relax his grip. “The last group of scouts came in half an hour ago. They said the English are still there.”

“Maybe they mean to slip away in the night.”

“We can only hope to be so lucky.”

Boucicaut rubbed his jaw. A scar ran just in front of one ear; a grim souvenir of the Battle of Nicopolis, it had cost him the feeling in the lower side of his face and frozen one corner of his mouth in a permanent, lopsided scowl. “Their Henri doesn’t seem the type.”

“He isn’t. But if enough of his army has the wisdom, morning may find him with just one or two hundreds. Then we can force a capitulation.”

Boucicaut opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment splattering footsteps sounded behind them. The two commanders turned to see a page stumble to a halt.

“My lords – Clignet de Brabant sends word – the comte de Vendôme is telling the crossbowmen to go home – he’s telling them they’re not needed on the morrow –”

“WHAT – Dieu des batailles, I told him earlier to stop.” Boucicaut ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.” D’Albret pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go find the sieur de Rambures, round up the crossbowmen before they get too far, and tell them to stay put. I’ll deal with Vendôme., it’s part of my office.”

Through the camp, past cookfires and armorers and lines of fretful horses, to the tent with the arms of the duc de Bourbon…

“Ah, cousin, welcome!” The duke smiled. He had a cup of wine in his hand; from the glazed look in his eyes, it wasn’t his first.

“Bourbon, where is your brother?”

“My…”

“Louis, comte de Vendôme. Where is he?”

“Uhhh…”

“Go find him and tell him to stop interfering with my crossbowmen. He’s this close to losing his command.”

Bourbon gestured with his cup, spilling wine onto his sleeve, then spilled more trying to brush it off. “Now see here, my lord Constable, they’re not really –”

“JEAN. Go. Find. Him.”

Bourbon froze, D’Albret’s tone snapping him back to the nine-year-old boy caught poking his older cousin’s horse with a stick.

“Ah…em, yes. I’ll go see to it, then.”

D’Albret glared after him as he shuffled off, shouting for the nearest page. His hand strayed unconsciously to the pouch at his belt, fingering the golden beads again.

If the king were well, none of them would dare step out of line.

“My lord Constable?” He turned at the sound of the voice. “Is something wrong?”

Charles, duc d’Orleans stood at the entrance to his own tent, a faint crease between his eyes. D’Albret sighed internally. Yes, of course, everything’s wrong. We shouldn’t even be here, half the camp is as ready to kill each other as the English, and every lordling with a feather to stick in his cap thinks he needs to challenge my command!

“It’s being taken care of,” he said instead.

Orleans watched him for a moment. Young as he was, he was remarkably good at reading people.

“I heard it said that the men from St. Omer thought they’d missed the battle, when they arrived.” He was trying to be light-hearted. D’Albret felt his jaw tightening again.

“Likely they wished they had.”

“Surely it won’t be even a half-day’s work tomorrow, there are so few English. They’re as timid as mice, they know we have them surrounded.”

D’Albret felt as if someone had squeezed his heart. Despite the young man’s looks, he reminded him less of Louis and more of Charles the king, Orlean’s uncle and godfather. Bright-eyed and smiling in spite of nerves, long ago, just outside Roosebeke… “Don’t worry, cousin, think of the glory to be won!”

“That’s not timidity,” he said quietly. “Never mistake it.” Then more harshly: “And I thought you spent time in conversation with the dame de Pizan. She could have told you as well as any that you never fight a cornered army. Men who know they’re doomed will fight all the harder. I’d as lief have her here than all the Princes of the Blood. The woman’s got more sense in her little finger than the rest of us put together.” He began to stalk away.

“My lord, wait.”

D’Albret turned, wondering what new nonsense was about to be thrown at him. The duc stepped forward, so as not to have to shout.

“I… I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier, in the council. I was out of line. I should have shown more respect for your authority.”

“You’re the king’s nephew,” D’Albret replied. “Your authority is at least equal to mine.” Hardly absolution; that was the greatest source of their problems at the moment, and Orleans knew it.

“Nonetheless, I am grateful that you gave me a place in the vanguard. I won’t let you down, I swear it.”

“I may give you orders, orders that you don’t like. Orders that may sound like they’ll cost you some feat of arms.

“I’ll follow them. Whatever you say, I’ll do.”

That squeezing feeling was back in his heart. “There’s something I need you to understand. This isn’t a joust; men will die tomorrow, and not just the English. You’re putting yourself in more danger than you know, and if you falter, whether in body or spirit, you as good as kill the man beside you. I need you to understand how serious this is.”

Orleans blinked. “I understand.”

And truly, D’Albret mused, he thinks he does.

#Ami du Roi #agincourt #ave maria #charles d'albret #charles d'orleans #charles vi #marshal boucicaut #medieval history #medieval france #hundred years war #henry v

[generaldisdainn]

Talk Therapy Chapter 3

Summary: Anna is engaged to the charming Hans, but Elsa has some concerns about the arrangement. Much to Anna's dismay, Elsa encourages her to seek out a professional opinion before going through with the marriage. That leads Anna into Kristoff Bjorgman's office where she is, with the help of her caring therapist, finally able to come to terms with the fact that maybe her relationship with Hans isn't all she thought it was.

[CONTENT WARNING: Descriptions of emotional manipulation/abuse]

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Anna stepped into the foyer of Hans’ home, shoes clicking against the marble flooring and echoing through the tall, barren ceilings. Hans’ house was pristine in nature, white and sterile in every sense of the words. The walls were tall and daunting at first, but Anna had learned to find solace within them. Where her parents had been taken away from her, Hans had come in and swept her off her feet, providing her love and comfort when she needed it most. College had been fun and she loved her friends, classes, and professors, but being so far away from her sister and losing both of her parents so suddenly had taken its toll, and she had found comfort in spending nights in his arms.

“Hans?” she called. Her voice bounced back to her, resonating through the room. He must not have been home yet.

Anna sighed and bounded over to the couch, slouching down and placing her feet up on the coffee table. Hans hated it when she laid around all over his nice furniture, a preference she was happy to respect when he was around, but a line she delicately snuck across whenever she was alone. The house felt so quiet and lonely, but she knew he would be home soon.

It was always a toss-up as to what mood Hans would be in after work. Sometimes he would have just closed a sales deal and they would watch movies and laugh and he would pull her into him and tell her how much he cared for her. Other times he would come in from a particularly bad day and he would criticize, snarl, and bat her away when she attempted to comfort him. She knew it wasn’t his fault. The amount of pressure he was under as the son of the CEO of the company was something she could never understand. He was in charge of a considerable amount of people, and the stress of it all frequently bubbled over into anger. She knew she couldn’t blame him. Better to take it out on her than his coworkers and risk getting fired. And besides, a particularly rough night meant that there would be flowers on the table the next morning, so she could hardly complain.

Anna checked the time and rose with a start. He would be home in less than 30 minutes. She bustled to the kitchen, eager to get started on their dinner so that, at the very least, if he came home upset and jaded, he couldn’t complain about dinner not being made on time.

The front door opened and shut with a ceremonious slam. Anna felt her heart stop as she waited for his first words. The first thing he said when he came in the door was a reliable indicator of how the rest of the night would go.

“It smells delicious in here,” Hans sighed as he came around the corner and into the kitchen. Anna let out a breath as he kissed her forehead. “I’m making chicken alfredo. I’m warming up bread too,” she said, motioning to the oven. “How was your day at work?”

“We got that new client! God, it was incredible. Anna, you should have seen it. One of the other managers was fumbling with them and I swooped in and saved the day.”

Anna giggled. She loved when he was happy like this. “I’m so glad. You’re amazing.” She set the table. Hans sat at the head, and she placed his food in front of him before returning to the kitchen to retrieve her own.

“Can you grab some butter for the bread while you’re in there, dearest?”

Anna stopped in her tracks. Shit. She was supposed to go to the store today to pick up butter and wine and milk and-

“Anna?”

Anna spun on her heel, facing him with pleading eyes and hands outstretched in defense. “I’m so sorry, but I forgot to go to the store today. I promise I’ll go first thing tomorrow and get everything. I-”

“What could you have possibly been doing today other than going to the store?” he questioned.

“I’m sorry, I got side-tracked.”

“Doing what?”

“Cleaning, and, I got lunch with Elsa, I’m-” It was a lie, but one that she was willing to tell. Anything to avoid him finding out she was in therapy.

“Elsa.” Hans held his face in his hands, rubbing his temples. “You forgot to go to the store, and you saw Elsa? You know how I feel about her.”

“I know, but she’s my sister. I can’t just not-”

“She hates me, Anna.” He cut her off with a seething tone and a hand slammed to the table.  “How do you think that makes me feel? I would never spend time with someone who didn’t approve of you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Guilt pricked at her sides. She didn’t mean to hurt him by seeing her, but Elsa was her sister.

“Silly girl. I don’t know how you expect to go to grad school if you can’t manage something simple like picking up butter from the grocery store.”

“That’s different,” she replied.  

Hans threw his head back and groaned. “Anna, let’s not get into this now. Just sit down and let’s try to enjoy what you actually remembered to do.”

Anna nodded and ate her dinner in silence, listening to Hans prattle on about the sale he had made today.

Hans made a show of throwing the bread away after dinner. “No point in eating bread without butter,” he complained. She wanted to say how wasteful and childish that was, but Anna bit her lip. She knew better. It was her fault that the bread was being put to waste, anyway. Hans retired to his office, and Anna went up to their room to have a moment to herself.

She made her way to the bathroom and locked the door, confident that even if Hans wondered what she was up to, she could just say she was using the restroom or cleaning up the space. If he asked about the locked door, well, she would come up with something. Hidden away in the bathroom, she pulled out the papers that had been weighing in her purse since her meeting with Kristoff. She sat on the floor, paper and pen poised against the linoleum tiles, the coolness of the surface below her creeping up into her skin. She turned her eyes to the questions at hand.

How would you rate your sense of self-esteem? How would you describe yourself? What are your best qualities? What are your worst qualities? How would you describe a perfect life? If you could change anything about your life, what would you change?

What would her perfect life look like? Parents who were still alive. A sister who had been around her for longer than just one year. An elementary school class of her own. A husband who let her go to grad school and get her teaching degree.

Anna shook off the thought. She was lucky to be in this house with him. Lucky that he loved her and let her love him.

Have you ever had thoughts of death or suicide? Have you ever engaged in self-destructive behaviors? Do you ever wish you were someone else?

Anna felt her stomach rise up in her throat. She wanted to bury herself beneath the ground and emerge without the memories of the days spent alone in her dorm room staring blankly at the wall or of sneaking to the bathroom to cry, quietly shutting the door behind her as to not wake Hans.

She felt childish. Stupid. She felt hot tears pricking in her eyes, the memories and Hans’ words from earlier swimming around in her brain until she could no longer think clearly. Why couldn’t she be better? For Hans and for herself. A tear fell onto the paper. Anna stood and made her way to her desk in their bedroom. No more of those questions. She needed to stop and just breathe. Anna pulled up her laptop and wiped a shaky hand across her cheek to stop a stay tear that leaked out of her eye. She opened up Google and typed.

Kristoff Bjorgman

The words seemed to pulse in the Google search bar. She clicked in the enter key and results popped up one after another. A picture of Kristoff showed up on the side of the screen, a soft smile splayed out across his face. She felt some of her anxiety dissipate at the sight of his warm, brown eyes. That was the only image of him she could find, save for one of a small group of smiling students, heads held high. He stood out of the bunch due to his height and the soft, tousled blonde of his hair. She clicked on the link. The image was attached to a story about the graduating class of his master’s program. She was impressed, intimidated even. Getting any sort of higher education was an honor and something to be proud of. It was hard work, something that Hans often reminded her she wasn’t ready for. He was right, of course. But she would be. One day.

She clicked on a link that had his name followed by the words “Student Profile, Class of 2017”.

The picture with his warm eyes and shy smile sat proudly at the top of the page. She spent a moment looking at it, letting herself fall into his eyes and recall the gentle lull of his voice. A graduate of University of Washington’s master program in psychology, the article said that he graduated with honors and started the practicum hours needed to become licensed immediately following graduation. Anna took in all she could about this man.

“My school counselor helped me greatly as a child. I want to provide that same support that I received to children who need to be heard. People often forget that childhood can be just as difficult as adulthood and that children greatly need mental health support.” Anna could hear the quote in his voice, gentle and smooth like a lullaby. Kristoff was so sure of himself and seemed so calm and together during their session. It pained her to envision a Kristoff who sat alone and afraid in a school counselor's office. What could he have needed that support for?

She kept going, finding herself reading a quote from one of his professors. “Bjorgman consistently impressed me with his desire to find the whole picture and address the underlying roots of situations as opposed to just the obvious quick fixes. Intuitive and calming, he will be an excellent psychologist to whichever populations he chooses to serve.” Anna had only been with Kristoff for an hour-long session, and yet, she agreed with every word of the article. She scrolled back up to the top of the page and sighed as she saw his picture. Intuitive. Calming. Dreamy.

“Anna, dear? Are you okay?”

Anna’s breath hitched in her throat. She slammed the lid of her laptop shut and scrambled to shove the papers into the drawer of her desk. “Yes! Yes, I’m fine,” she called, cursing herself for the tremble in her voice.

“What have you been up to up here? I’ve missed you,” he cooed, striding over to where she stood at attention by her desk. He trailed a finger along her cheek. “I’ve been working terribly hard, and I would love to relieve some stress in bed tonight.”

Anna smiled, relieved that he didn’t press her on her scrambling to put her things away or bring her mistakes from earlier back up. She was almost giddy with excitement. She was being offered a chance to make up for her earlier mistakes, a chance to prove herself. And besides, she knew that it would be in her best interest if she wanted her loving Hans tomorrow and not the cross one she got whenever he went to bed with unrelieved stress.

“Of course,” she replied, happy to be useful to him. Happy to be needed. So lucky to be loved by him.

#kristanna #fanfic #kristanna fanfic #mine

[prettieparker86]

Safe In The Shadows

Pairing: Tommy X Alfie

Warning: Mentioned of past trauma

Gif Credit: I apologize I don’t know where I got this. It was on my laptop. If it belongs to you or you know who it belongs to, please let me know so I can give them credit for their beautiful work.

Note:

Please bear in mind I’ve never written Tommy & Alfie before, so be gentle. This is stand alone dabble. As always likes and reblogs are appreciated. 

As for my other stories, they aren’t done. This was just something different.

____________________________________

It’s the moonlight that awakens him, but it’s the shadows both in his mind and rattling of the walls that keeps him awake. His mind a treacherous minefield. Filled with ghost that don’t know how to rest and tripwires ready to blow him to pieces if he wanders upon them. There’s only one solace Tommy has found in this darkness, one spark of light amongst the endless pitch and it’s lying beside him. 

All warm bodied and thick fleshed. Strong where he’s weak and soft where he’s hardened. It’s the rust color of his wiry beard that steals Tommy’s attention tonight. As the moonlight catches it. Its luminous rays sneaking its way past the thick heavy curtains that enshroud Alfie’s bedroom like a tomb.

The moonlight weaving through the rust colored curls. Rust, like an old faded blood stain. Something Tommy’s seen and made far too many times. A color he’s all too familiar with, but it’s the texture of that hair he longs for tonight, as it rests just a breath away beside him. 

Thick, curled, and wiry, and if he lets his mind wander it’ll conjure up memories of those rough bristles burning against his flesh, the nip of sharp teeth and the warm wet brush of a tongue to follow. Even just the thought of it calms the pounding in the walls. The shovels still banging, but far more quietly this time, more distant and somewhere harder to reach.

He’s rum and Tommy’s whiskey. Burning and bitter when swallowed, but Alfie’s sweet, warm, and smooth when he slips down his throat. Tommy’s eyes fall closed with just the thought of it, the taste still lingering faintingly against the back of his tongue. Alfie’s lips are plump and full, but spit out curses and weave yarns that lead even the best of men down dizzying trails. But Tommy knows those same lips can be both soft and firm on the most delicate of places.

Tommy’s hand twitches as it rests against the silk sheets with the sudden frantic urge to slip into Alfie’s tousled hair. Tangled and unmanaged, perfectly unkept, but always soft and full. To feel him, to know he’s really there and not just some twisted dream just beyond his reach. But Tommy wont, despite the urge, he knows he’s not the only one haunted by sleep. Tortured by demons no one else can see. It’s so rare to see Alfie rest, he can’t bring himself to ruin it. Not even when his hands hum with the urge to touch him. Trace the muscles that contour his chest, follow the lines that travel down to his navel, but that wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t stop there.

No, Tommy would need more. To follow that trail of soft lush hair leading down past his belly. To touch Alfie and feel him the way only he can. Returning the favor, because no one’s ever touched Tommy like Alfie has. Tommy could recognize him by touch alone. By the smell of sweet rum emanating off his skin and the distinct rhythm of his breath. No one’s ever wanted Tommy that way. With a hunger like Alfie can’t get enough. As if Tommy were enough. Exactly as he is… No one’s ever made him feel that way before. 

The heat of Alfie’s flesh, the snap of his hips, the press of his palm as his thumb squeezes firmly against Tommy’s jugular, buried deep inside him - leaving him whole in that undefinable way Tommy always knew was lacking, but could never quite describe how. Even just the thought of it makes his blood rush a little harder, his skin grow warm and flushed. No one can touch that place. Nothing comes close. There’s nothing like it. Nothing Tommy’s found or thinks he wants to. Nothing, except Alfie. Quiet and under spoken, or obnoxious and demanding. In his face or creeping up from behind. It’s anywhere and everything Tommy needed, but was too afraid to think he’d ever find. Tommy knows men as haunted as himself don’t find peace. They don’t deserve it.

Staring at the relaxed muscles that lay unguarded and exposed across Alfie’s face. So raw it’s almost innocent, almost childlike if Tommy dare say. He can’t help but think of his own childhood. Cold and desperate. Always on guard. Always awaiting the next shoe to drop. The next blow to be delivered. Stumbling from those broken foundations into a war that lined bodies up like wood for the fire. Where men dropped like mortar shells and walls were made of clay just waiting for the razors edge of a pick axe to break through them. 

The cold streets of Birmingham welcomed him home after the stench of death had permanently stained him. Cold like the inside of his broken chest. And Tommy accepted that. Accepted the cruel cold nature of his life and everything around him. Trusted no one. Ambitions fueling the fire burning in his rotted belly. Ambitions distracted him from the missing beat of his heart. Distracted him from everything he couldn’t and didn’t want to see.

Until him. This man. Who should have been nothing more then another destructive step on a journey of dodging bullets. But it wasn’t. And he isn’t. Not a pitstop. Not a detour. Or a pass through. Tommy isn’t sure when this stopped being nothing. All he’s come to realize is it’s something. Something that for the first time, in a long time, perhaps maybe ever… Feels something like home. Or what Tommy imagines home would feel like if he ever found one.

Oh so gently as not to stir the bed or shift the blankets, Tommy slips back down deep into the bed. Resting his head against the pillow as his gaze lingers on Alfie so a long moment. Only Alfie. Because there, as his pupils swallow up the man he’s still not sure what to make of, still not sure he deserves, the shadows aren’t littered with landmines and the walls don’t tremble with shovels. Because there in the haze of moon light, with wiry rust colored hair, soft full lips, and relaxed closed eyes, his demons quiet down. Tommy isn’t sure how he got here. He’s still not completely sure he trusts it. And yet he can’t seem to stop himself from surrendering to it time and time again.

But Alfie knows. He always seems to know, as he rolls onto his side, snaking his arm around Tommy before he pulls him to him. Not awakening, just a slow steady shift, a smooth roll against the bedding rather than a stir, because he knows. Because he always knows. In that quiet space where unspoken gestures lie. That’s where he weaves riddles. Disarming Tommy like no one else can. Breaking down walls Tommy has spent his whole life creating.

Folding into the crook of his strong but soft body, that envelopes Tommy different than any has before, the heat of his flesh radiates out against his skin, and all he feels is torn between surrender and an uprising. Torn between letting the safety of this place devour him and pulling away to run like he’s been running and hiding from the things he needs most of his life. Because Tommy hates this. Lying here with Alfie. In a place that feels warm, comforting, and safe. Hates it nearly as much as he loves it.

Tommy stares at his clothes strew carelessly on the side of the bed and the thought races through his mind like the pounding of a beating heart – he could slip free of Alfie’s arm, of his warmth. Slip free of this bed, slip free of this place like he had never been there at all. Not to awaken Alfie. And never a soul would know. No one would know Thomas Shelby could be weak, could be vulnerable. Could want and enjoy something that didn’t involve his own ambition or the destruction of his very soul. And yet Tommy doesn’t move. Not even a muscle. Torn between the demons taunting in his mind. The horrors that won’t stop haunting him, and the only peace he’s ever known.

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #alfie solomons #tommy x alfie #thomas x alfie

[marshmallow-phd]

Memories Past

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Kris x Reader

Summary: The last thing Kris wanted was to move on. He was perfectly content wallowing in his misery while pretending everything was okay. But when you come walking into his shop with a broken down car, he realizes the thing he’d been avoiding the most just might be the cure he always needed. He just couldn’t believe that it’d been you all along. Kris had been your best friend when you were kids before he’d moved away without a word of goodbye. Now nearly fifteen years later, you run into him again by pure coincidence. The memories come rushing back to you, stirring something inside. A childhood crush shouldn’t upend your picture perfect life, but sometimes, destiny has other things in mind…

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

**

This was the ultimate adrenaline rush.

Running through the woods with the stars above was definitely a thrill for any average werewolf. That was the time they were one with the forest, truly at home. It was only natural for that to be where a wolf sought solace.

But this. This right here was its own kind of high. With the rumble of the engine vibrating the whole car, Kris felt in complete control. Pushing his foot down on the gas pedal, he revved his motor threateningly, letting his opponent know who the winner would be at the end of this mile.

The flag girl stood safely off to the side, the white polyester cloth held up high for both drivers to see. At the race handler’s signal, she threw the flag in the air and they took off.

Kris nearly cursed to see his opponent had half a car length’s jump on him. Shifting gears, he pushed the pedal down even farther, the engine roaring and straining in protest. But Kris knew his car inside and out. He knew what it could take, having torn the engine apart before rebuilding it to the perfection it was today. And his baby never let him down as he watched the nose of his car inch up to be head to head with his opponent.

Flipping up a hidden switch, Kris pressed that fun little red button, giving him just the boost he needed. The car shot forward thanks to that punch of NOS, propelling him past the other driver and crossing the makeshift finish line.

Victory was his. Little yelps and laughs of celebration escaped his lips as he grinned from ear to ear. As he circled around back to the main area, he parked his car along the rows of other souped-up vehicles. Getting out of the car, he rounded to the front and leaned back against the hood to wait for his payment.

Jimmy, a short bald man and Kris’ fellow Chinese man, came up to him with too much energy. Kris held out his hand for Jimmy to take, pulling him into that classic brother half-hug.

“What’s up, man?” Kris smirked, knowing exactly why Jimmy had come over to him.

“I gotta say, you can race like no one else I’ve ever seen before,” Jimmy praised.

Kris laughed. Little did any of these people know that what made him so good was his werewolf reflexes. His timing was better as well as his ability to process a situation and make a quick decision. Very handy when the race usually only lasts ten seconds or so.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he shrugged.

Jimmy scoffed. “Yeah, right.” He held up a thick roll of cash. “Your take in the winnings, Racer King.”

“Thank you,” Kris grinned, pocketing the money.

“Still not going to count it?” Jimmy sighed.

“Told you,” Kris said as he headed back for the driver’s door, “I don’t do it for the money. It’s just a nice bonus.”

“I’m going to start taking a bigger cut, then,” Jimmy warned.

Kris shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

Even seated inside the car, Kris heard Jimmy mumble playfully, “Punk.”

Taking off down the road, the smile on Kris’ face began to fade.

Illegal street racing wasn’t exactly the safest hobby or activity to partake in, no matter how good and isolated the location was. Years ago, he’d dabbled into it. Until Jiyoon scolded him and made him quit.

Now, almost as soon as he’d settled back down in this town, he’d scoured all over the place to track down the races.

Was he being slightly self-destructive? Not completely. He was safe in how he raced, careful until the finish line.

Was he just running away without going anywhere? Plausible.

The drum-heavy music that blared from his phone mercifully pulled him out of his thoughts. Pressing the phone button on his dash, he answered the call through the Bluetooth set up.

“Yes, Tao?”

“Kris-ge,” the younger wolf whined. “Are you almost home? Sehun and Chanyeol are threatening to leave without you.”

Kris shook his head, exasperated. Twelve was just too many members for a pack. “If they do, they’re on bathroom duty for two weeks.”

Tao repeated Kris’ threat to the others which lead to several unintelligible cries of protest in the background.

“I’m almost there,” Kris groaned. “Hold on for five more minutes. Think you guys can sit still long enough?”

“Sure,” Tao replied. “I can, at least.” There was a pause and Kris almost hung up the call when Tao added, “Hey, Kris? Where you have been going lately? Between you and Junmyeon, I’m getting worried.”

“I’ve just been out running a few errands,” Kris lied, if a little guiltily. He knew if he told the others that he’d been out racing, they’d want to come along to watch. Considering the fact that drag racing in the streets was highly illegal, there was always the chance of the cops coming out and breaking it up and topping it off with a few arrests. Kris didn’t mind if he spent the night in jail, but if the others got locked up with him, Junmyeon would have a fit. Better to keep his brothers out of it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m pulling up into the driveway now.”

“Okay.” Tao hung up without saying goodbye.

Pulling up around back, Kris turned off the engine and sat in his car. Without any prompting the boys ran out the door and huddled around the car’s left side. It was hard, but he resisted rolling his eyes as he got out of the car.

“Let’s go.” He tried his best to not sound as irritated and annoyed as he felt, but considering the questionable glance that Chanyeol gave him, he must have failed. At least tonight, Yixing and Minseok were going with them. That meant they’d be getting back earlier from the run since they had class in the morning and would be more adamant about getting some sleep.

They all headed for the forest, stripping themselves of their clothes to be picked up on the way back.

**

“Are you serious?” Ji Yeon gasped.

By pure luck, after Huan had dropped you off fairly early for class, Ji Yeon had found you just sitting at one of the stone tables in the courtyard as you waited for it to be an appropriate time to head to class. The two of you were quick to exchange numbers and then you told her about your ordeal on the way home the previous night.

“I knew yesterday was just going way too well for me,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“Where did you take your car?” Ji Yeon asked.

You frowned as you thought to remember. “Um, it was called Lang Auto Shop?”

Ji Yeon’s eyes lit up. “Really? I know the guy that owns that place! You, ma’am, are in very good hands. He’s a magician when it comes to cars. And, he won’t overcharge you. That is the real magic.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. The picture forming in your head was of a kind old man with a too-long beard that felt like everyone’s grandfather.

All too soon, it was time for both of you to get to class. Luck seemed to be on your side as your lecture halls were right next to each other, giving you a little more time to talk before you had to separate. Unfortunately, your schedules didn’t match up for the rest of the day, but Ji Yeon promised to text you to set a time for lunch tomorrow.

The rest of your school day was spent with your mind pacing back and forth. You wanted to focus on the lectures and PowerPoints that occupied your class time, but you were worried about your car. Two different people had sworn up and down that the owner of the body shop was a fair mechanic, but there was only so much they could do if your engine needed a part that cost more than a grand. The move had put a dent into your savings as well as Huan’s and the last thing you needed was a hefty mechanical bill.

Finally, the time for Huan to come pick you up from the university and take you to the shop had come. You had to miss out on your last class of the day to make it before the shop closed, but you figured one missed session early in the semester wouldn’t hurt you.

Hopping into the passenger’s seat of his well washed black Mercedes, you leaned over the middle console and gave your fiancé an appreciative kiss before greeting him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he purred back, stealing another kiss. “How was your day?”

You shrugged. “Fine. It’d be better if I wasn’t panicking over my car, but, you know, life.”

Huan just laughed at you. “Yeah, life does that.” As you put your seat belt on, he turned to the GPS, “Okay, what was the name of the shop?”

“Lang Auto Shop.”

Just like you, Huan seemed to find the name strange, but interesting.

It only took about fifteen or twenty minutes to get to the shop from the school. Huan parked right outside the garage doors and both of you got out to find an employee.

��Can I help you?” One of the mechanics approached you, wiping his hands on an already dirty rag. The patch on his coveralls said “Brian”. He certainly looked like a Brian with his blonde hair and cheerful grin.

“Yeah, my fiancé’s car broke down last night and she had it towed here,” Huan explained. “She left the spare keys with a note about what happened and so we were just seeing if there was any update on that or if you were able to even get to it.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Silver four-door, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“It was actually a simple fix,” Brian said to your relief. “Two of the wires under the hood had been rubbing together and the heat had melted the rubber coating on the outside and shorted the fuse box. We were able to replace the box and wrapped up the expose parts of the wire. I think it ended up being about a hundred dollars or so. We’ve got the invoice in the office.”

Brian motioned for you to follow him, but while Huan did so, still talking to him about the wires and what had gone on with your car, another mechanic in the shop had caught your eye. Bent over and inspecting the engine of a nice mustang was someone that you never expected to see again in your lifetime.

“Kris?”

At the sound of his name, Kris turned and met your eyes. When he did, his jaw went slack and his hand that was keeping him balanced above the engine slipped, causing his head to hit the lifted hood.

You snickered, not quite able to believe this situation in the slightest.

Rubbing the top of his head, he stuttered, “(y-y/n)? W-what are you doing here?”

Over your shoulder, you pointed with your thumb as your good-as-new car parked just outside. “My car broke down last night and we brought it here. This is just insane. Is this where you guys moved to?”

Eyes still wide open in shock, Kris gave you a shaky nod. “Yeah. Yeah, this is where we moved to.”

Something… strange was happening inside you. While Kris had always been slightly taller than you, now he just seemed like a giant, much taller and toned than you had ever imagined him to be. Not that you imagined what adult Kris would look like. Much.

As his brown eyes stared down at you in amazement, your heart started speeding up on its own. You scolded it for getting so worked up over nothing. Of course, Kris did seem to turn into a very handsome man, but that was to be expected. He was a cute kid so why shouldn’t he be an attractive adult? The ring on your left hand was suddenly much heavier.

“Hey, honey.” Huan came over and joined you, planting a kiss on your cheek. Affection like that was nothing new from him, but now you felt uncomfortable at his public display. Sensing some of the tension between you and Kris, he asked, “Do you two know each other?”

“Yeah,” you admitted quickly. “Huan, this is Kris, an old friend of mine. Kris, this is my fiancé, Huan.”

Huan, ever the pleasant and outgoing type, held his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

On the other end, you could see the strain it took for Kris to return the gesture. “Pleasure to meet you, too.”

“Wait,” Huan grinned down at you. “Is this the Kris that you used to talk about all the time?”

Your own eyes went wide with panic. “N-not all the time.”

Kris laughed. “I’m a pretty impressionable guy, so I’m not surprised.”

That made you roll your eyes. Some things never change.

Huan didn’t seem to like the direction the conversation was going, so he looped an arm around your lower back. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Kris, but we should probably get going.”

“Yeah,” you agreed halfheartedly. Seeing Kris again so randomly was making your mind fuzzy. You needed to get out of here, but you didn’t want to leave.

“It was nice to meet you, Huan,” Kris said sincerely. Looking back to you, he gave a soft smile, “It was really good to see you again, (y/n).”

It was impossible not return it. “You, too, Kris.”

Your footsteps were heavy as you walked away from the shop. What strange coincidence was this?

Driving home in your newly fixed car, you were too preoccupied and lazy to cook anything for dinner so you picked up some take out instead, getting both of your usual orders.

At the table, Huan talked about his day like normal, but you found yourself only replying with “hms” and “huhs”. Kris’ face kept floating along in your mind. What had he been up to all these years? Did he go to the same school that you went to now? Did he work at the shop or own it? How were his parents, who always treated you like one of their own?

The muscles in the corner of your mouth pulled up at that last question, remembering the fond memories of playing at Kris’ house and being a bit spoiled by Mrs. Wu. Having no daughter of her own, she kind of doted on you, much to Kris’ irritation.

“What’s the smile for?” Huan asked.

You blinked, looking up from your food. “What?”

“You’re grinning,” he pointed at you with his fork. “What were you thinking about?”

“Just… fond memories,” you shrugged. “Kris’ parents were always really nice to me. I was just thinking about them.”

Huan nodded, looking a little relieved. “Oh, okay.”

He dropped the subject, much to your own relief.

Later that night, after the two of you had crawled into bed and said good night, you found yourself just lying there, staring at the wall and unable to fall asleep. Huan had no trouble drifting off, snoring loudly behind you with one arm draped over your waist, lazily holding you close.

Careful not wake him up, you slowly got out of bed, letting his arm slide off of you. Walking into the closet, you closed the door before turning on the light.

While most of your belongings were unpacked and put away, there was one box that you hadn’t quite gotten to yet. Most of the objects inside were things you didn’t really touch or hadn’t thought about in a long time so there wasn’t any hurry. Pulling the box down from the high shelf, you quietly set it on the floor and opened it up.

A lot of the knick-knacks were from your childhood; first day photos, crappy art projects, a yearbook here and there. Underneath all of that, though, was a very special shoe box. You’d put it away a long time ago, sometime before your sophomore year of college as your teen years were put behind you and real adulthood was coming along.

The contents inside were your most precious items. Items that reminded you of your best friend before he abruptly moved away without a single word of goodbye. It hurt to think about still, how you cried for a week straight while your mother held you and rocked you to sleep. All you wanted was your best friend back, but you didn’t know where he’d gone.

And now he’d magically appeared in front of you. What a jerk.

One by one, you pulled the items out, smiling as you did so. There were a few pictures of you and Kris from your zoo trips and birthday parties. Random rocks you’d found that you once thought were cool and even a red leaf that you’d laminated because you thought it was pretty and you didn’t want to lose it occupied space in the box. But the one thing that you were actually looking for was buried all the way down at the bottom.

Trying not to break the somewhat tangled chain, you pulled out the necklace and held it up.

On your thirteenth birthday, your mother surprised you by having the dumb moonstone that you’d always carried around in your pocket turned into a necklace that you could wear. The rock had always served its purpose, the one Kris had disposed upon it all those years ago. With it in sight, you really couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Sitting there on the floor of your closet in the middle of the night, you fiddled with the necklace, turning the stone in your hand over and over again. Was it a work of fate that he magically appeared in your life again? Or was it just a stunning coincidence?

Either way, you had an inkling feeling that your life was about to get a little complicated.

**

It was supposed to be a normal day at work. Kris was simply supposed to go in, work on the cars for the day and then go home to have dinner with the boys and maybe get some work done on his own baby.

The silver car that was parked out in front of the shop when he arrived in the morning didn’t seem like anything extraordinary. By lunchtime, he was able to get to the car, finding the problem right away thanks to his good eyes and the note left by the owner. He’d smiled when he read the name, thinking immediately of his childhood friend.

Never, ever in a million years would he ever expected that the same person who left the car and note would really be his old childhood friend – you. And not only that, but the biggest surprise was yet to come.

You were his mate.

The clenching feeling in Kris’ chest was almost overwhelming the second his eyes settled on you. Of course, he recognized you right away. You’d hardly changed at all, even though more than fifteen years had passed.

It was incredible. Something like this was rare, having known his mate since he was young. It seemed impossible that the one destined for him would be you.

And of course, being the smooth operator he was, he’d managed to slip and hurt himself on the car he was working on.

Then things just got worse.

A man came up to you and kissed you on the cheek. Reflexively, Kris’ muscles tightened on the wrench he gripped in his hand. The wolf inside growled at him to do something, to get that man away from his mate. But that was your fiancé. He couldn’t exactly just shove the guy off of you and steal you away.

Driving home that night, Kris felt like there was a war going on inside him. He’d held onto the memory of Jiyoon for so long, he didn’t know it would be this intense like to have those feelings washed away.

Kris had never wanted to find his mate. To him, no one could compare to Jiyoon. But… you felt like a mercy from Fate. The only person who could out shine Jiyoon would be the first girl he’d ever had a crush on.

But you had a fiancé. You’d already promised to spend your life with someone else. What was Kris to do about that?

Maybe this was for the better. If you were with Kris… something bad could happen to you. He couldn’t let you end up like Jiyoon. He didn’t want the same thing again. So, maybe this was meant to be. Kris had found his mate, but you could be happy with someone else. And… maybe you two could just be friends in this lifetime. The wolf didn’t like that idea.

A ferocious war indeed.

With heavy footsteps, Kris walked up to the farmhouse and stepped inside to the kitchen, expecting Kyungsoo to be slaving away at the stove on dinner. However, the house was quiet and no one seemed to be around.

“Hello?” Kris called out.

“No one’s home.” Junmyeon stepped into the kitchen. He was dressed down in sweats and a tank top, the complete opposite of his usual professor get up. In fact, he looked like shit. “They all went out for pizza a few hours ago. Chanyeol said he would text you.”

Frowning, Kris pulled out his phone. Sure enough, there was the text on his screen. He never heard the notification, probably because he was too lost in his thoughts. It was miracle he even made it home without an incident. He shrugged it off, not too put out by it. There was plenty of food in the fridge that he could eat and by now they’d be done and on their way home. Instead, he turned back to Junmyeon.

“What’s going on with you?”

Junmyeon sighed heavily, shuffling over to the breakfast booth. He sat down with a thump and rested his face in his hands.

Kris sat down across from him. “Junmyeon?”

He looked up and stared at Kris. “You don’t look much better.”

“Yeah,” Kris scoffed. “I just got the surprise of my life today.”

Junmyeon raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? I bet I can beat it with what happened to me last week.”

Sitting back, Kris smirked. “Really? Fine. We’ll say it at the same time and see who wins.”

Junmyeon actually laughed. “Alright. Deal.”

Kris held a hand up along with three fingers that went down with the numbers. “Three. Two. One.”

“I found my mate.” “I found my mate.”

The alpha wolves stared at each other in shock.

“Well,” Junmyeon swallowed, “this is quite the development.”

“Yeah,” Kris nod. “You got that right.”

Thunderous footsteps shook the house and the rest of the pack came tumbling into the kitchen from the front of the house. They were wrestling around and joking with each other, but when they noticed the two alphas sitting in the booth, the chatter stopped.

“Anything you guys want to share?” Minseok asked.

Kris looked at Junmyeon and waved his hand out. “You first.”

Junmyeon dropped his head down to the table and groaned. For Junmyeon to be this conflicted about finding his mate, the situation had to be either highly comical or deep trouble. Kris was curious to find out which one it was.

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