#stop acting like a child if you’re trying to feign maturity

[yuzublackswan]

“tHaT sLuR wAs FuNnY yEaRs AgO” and “ThAt’S jUsT hOw It WaS bAcK tHeN dOn’T dWeLl On ThE pAsT”... so a 20 yr old on phannie tumblr or my homophobic grandparents? this game is hard.

#stares in autistic #your point is not good and never will be #pls for the love of god stop pretending you’re a good person #stop fabricating imaginary apologies and acting like deleted videos erases the fact i Saw them #stop acting like a child if you’re trying to feign maturity #stop pretending like this only happened in 2009 and there havent been circumstances literally two years ago #stop bringing up young age as if it’s a mitigating factor when silencing youth in sht is the birth of humanity’s problems #pls just stfu

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; ii

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, Smut 

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right…But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mature themes, Dry-humping and Drinking, Angst warning

A/N: part three will conclude this series, thank you for the support!

“So Y/N, I’ll only ask one question on the topic but...What attracted you to Bang Chan?” 

“Well, everything really.” You say with a fond smile. “When we first met I had just moved to Sydney and he took care of me. I think I started liking him then, But I only confessed when we were both trainees.” 

“How cute!” The interviewer gushes, fanning herself. “I hope you two have many happy days to come.”

Things had been jam-packed since the news of you and Chan had come out, his fandom had been more welcoming than you had expected and left lots of sweet comments under your social media accounts. You hadn’t done any interviews until today, just music shows or performances. You also hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him since it all went down, not even at the meeting.

In fairness you had both become extremely busy, and constantly were a hot topic for netizens. Your fame had skyrocketed even more so than it originally did, you had now become the ambassador of a major brand and already had a performance booked for the end of year awards with a brand new song.

Your mind went back to your conversation with Chan and how quick you had been to blurt out hurtful words that you no longer meant. 

You knew it was up to you to reach out, but admitting your actions were over the top isn’t something you’re ready to do. You hadn’t technically lied but calling him a sellout was a low blow, and although he wasn’t an angel he wouldn’t say something like that to you. 

Today is a better day than any to deliver your reluctant apology, a fake date is scheduled for a popular book store that recently finished an extension for their in store cafe.You dressed casually and made sure to bring your mask and matching black baseball hat, along with Tims Tams.

Even though it’s only 1pm, the sky is dim and dreary which makes the walk to the cafe a bit more nerve-wracking. What if he chews you out before you can get a word in? He was always good at that. The scent of arabica coffee beans brings you to your senses and you walk in before you can make a run for it and never return, goodbye idol life, au revoir pilates and adiós to Christopher Bang.

“You actually came.” A voice remarks, making you squeal in surprise. 

“What the fuck?!” You screech, placing a hand over your heart to try calm it’s rapid beating.

He opens the door, smiling in amusement at your terror. You settle in a corner with a large bright window, perfect for paparazzi and incase you nervous retch. Chan heads to the counter and comes back with a double shot Americano and a Green Tea Latte.

“Thanks.” You murmur sheepishly, feeling like a complete asshole for lashing out at him.

“I wanted to run something by you, well, to clarify something…” He begins to explain, waiting for your nod of approval before he begins. “I didn’t even know Seungah, or ‘Mijoo’ properly until we broke up. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, I know I still did but I just wanted you to understand.”

You’re taken aback by him not being mad at you for two weeks ago, even though he has every right to be. If he had said half the things you had said he wouldn’t know any peace for the rest of his life.

“Thank you for clarifying, But I should be apologising…” You began hesitantly, did he want you to just move on and say nothing? Still, you’re not that person anymore. “I was way out of line to say all that stuff about you, which wasn’t true at all. You worked hard to get where you are and I’m happy for you, if anyone deserves the world it’s you.” 

While he processes your words with his mouth ajar, you push the Tim Tams to his side of the table. His eyes light up and he rips into them immediately, dunking one into his warm coffee and although you find it semi-revolting, you smile.

You spend the next half hour sharing the biscuits and stories of wardrobe mishaps and what you’ve both been up to in the last few years. It doesn’t take long before you feel comfortable in his presence, not fully but more than you thought possible after all that went down.

Chan ends up finishing the packet and relaxes into his chair with a content sigh, you can’t help but smile at the sight. It quickly fades when you spot paparazzi in heards outside the cafe.

“They found us, totally not like our companies tipped them off.” Chan comments, turning back to you after squinting at them for a bit.

“Quick, act surprised.” You order, as you start making over-exaggerated expressions to the cameras.

The flashing of cameras is nothing new to either of you at this point and you head upstairs to the book section, scanning from classics, science fiction and biographies of people you’d never heard of. Chan spots a section of books with their covers hidden under wrapping and the descriptions written in black ink. You decide on a poetry book from the 1700s with a little sun drawn on the brown paper, Chan picks a Sci-Fi thriller and you shake your head knowingly.

Afterwards, Chan walks you home through the playground near your tiny apartment and makes small talk about music, he picks your brain about melodies and what your favourite synth sounds are. It’s hard to believe less than a month ago you wanted to rip his head off. 

“Let’s sit for a bit.” Chan says, situating himself on a swing.

It doesn’t take you long to join him on the swing to his right, if there’s nothing worse than one idiot on a swing it’s two idiots on swings. Instead of chatting you focus on seeing how high up you can go and Chan watches, shaking his head in embarrassment.

“You’re an actual child.” He teases, grabbing a hold of the rope to slow you down. 

“Hey, no fair.” You huff, grounding yourself by using your feet, turning to him with a pout.

He rolls his eyes and ruffles your hair just like he used to, and embarrassingly it makes you feel happy. Just like you used to back when you first met in Sydney and he was all you knew. 

Stop thinking about the past, you say mentally, what’ll It change?

To distract yourself you decide it’s time to go somewhere else, and get up with the intent of forgetting whatever feelings your brain is fabricating. You can hear footsteps behind you and sigh, he’s not letting you go that easy.

“Where are you going?” Chan calls out, finally catching up to you.

“A bar, I assumed you were still on that drinking ban.” You say feigning your intentions of ditching him for your own benefit.

“That ended two years ago,” He replies with a small smile, “What bar exactly?”

“You’ll see.” 

“Y/N….you said a bar, this is a club.” Chan says, stating the obvious. 

It’s a small place just on the outskirts of the bustling city, illuminated by purple and blue with none of the  ridiculous cocktail names, dry humping and reek of Victoria’s Secret perfume you became accustomed to in Seoul. 

“Same difference,” You reply with a shrug, sitting down at an empty velvet sofa. “Wanna be a dear and get us some drinks?”

Chan shakes his head with his usual grin and heads to the counter, you can’t help but notice how buff he’s gotten in the last few years. You look away when he takes the drinks off the counter and focus on the fabric of your ripped jeans instead, fiddling with the loose strings.

“A rum and coke for you and a black russian for me.” He announces, sitting down on the other end of the couch. 

“Perfect choice.” You say thankfully, raising the glass to your lips and taking several gulps.

The blond raises an eyebrow, sipping at his caffeinated cocktail at a more leisurely pace, soon one drink becomes four and a round of shots later you can gladly say any warm fuzzy feelings have been replaced with drunk fuzzy feelings. Chan, who's only had two drinks laughs at your predicament as the bartender cuts you off for the night.

“Chris, order another round!” You instructed giddily, clinging onto his arm.

“Yeah, and carry you home drunk? I don’t think so.” He retorts, finishing his soju.

You grumble incoherencies under your breath, leaning into him and shutting your eyes. He inquisitively still smells the same and carries the same soothing aura that everyone seemed to pick up on. He hums to the song playing and you can feel his chest vibrate when he messes up on a lyric and laughs. The alcohol makes everything seem blurred around the edges and rose-tinged, he puts his arm around you and it all feels right.

“Y/N, Y’Alright?” 

“Yeah, you?” You slur, smiling into his neck, you can feel him chuckle when your eyelashes tickle his skin.

Everything becomes hazy after that, you hardly remember Chan helping you into the back of a taxi or guiding you to your front door. He searches your bag for the front door key and then your jacket, you giggle drunkenly, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Back pocket,” You state with an amused grin.

Chan reaches down into the back pocket of your jeans and the contact makes your cheeks redden and you inhale deeply. He doesn’t seem to notice and clasps onto the key, before he takes the key out you place your hand around his wrist and hold it there. He looks at you with an uncertain glance, his eyes searching yours for confirmation of some sort, arching into his touch gives him the clarification he needs and he presses his lips to yours in a hungry, intrusive kiss. 

You bring your hands up to his hair and tug on it lightly, as if to bring him even closer if possible. Chan groans into your mouth at the feeling and you take advantage of the moment and control the kiss while he eagerly follows, one hand firmly squeezing your ass while and starts to grind against you. The only sounds you hear are his ragged breathing and the quiet whimper that leaves him when you pull apart to nip at his jaw.

“Y/N,” He pleads, rutting against your thigh with desperation. You answer his pleas, allowing him between your thighs, he kisses your ear appreciatively and helps you up onto the low metal shelf by your doorway for better access grind against your sex.

He whines profanities into your neck when you meet his ruts in a more languid pace, it only makes him more desperate for you. You sigh in pleasure at the sight, although your vision is hazy his swollen lips and furrowed brows are as clear as day. You can tell how close he is by how unsteady his breathing is, he cries out your name repeatedly and you coo at him.

“Pathetic, I haven’t even wrapped my hand around your cock and you’re ready to blow your load.” You mock, pretending you aren’t at the edge yourself.

“Ah, shit..!” He bellows, hot breath hitting your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

You watch his mouth fall agape as he finally reaches his peak, his blonde hair is plastered against his face and his skin has a sheen that suits him well. Chan gasps as you start up again, the overstimulation making him writhe, he slips one hand down the front of your jeans, which surprises you because you still feel secure being held up with just one arm. You rut against his hand, he knows exactly where to touch and your moans only spur him on until you finally reach your own climax, biting down on his shoulder when you do.

Nothing is said while you both collect yourselves, Chan drops you down and presses his forehead to yours while he catches his breath. The alcohol starts to wear off you and fully realise what’s happened and take your keys out of your back pocket, your hands shake and it takes you a while to get the key in and twist it.

“Y/N?” He calls out, sounding helpless. 

“I’m sorry, Chris.” 

Ignoring the downcast expression on his face you go inside, looking at him once more and telling him you’re sorry again and that he should leave. When you slam the door, he calls out for you to open it again, fifteen minutes later he leaves and you’re in the shower crying. You had just done to Mijoo what had been your biggest fear, but she would have never done that to you.

She was a good person and you were disgusting with no morals.

How the fuck had it all happened so fast? Meeting Chris again, loathing him, fake dating him, feeling emotions for him and now practically fucking him? Nothing had really changed, even before the breakup it had always been you crawling back to him and him feeling as if gravity was pulling you two back together just to tear you away again. ‘Cruel fate’ he called it, you call it nonsense to make him feel better.

Whatever it was, it needed to stop or finally be faced.

It’s just after 12pm the next day when you wake up, everything hurts and you try to piece together what little you remember before that thing with Chris. You groan into the palms of your hands and try to think of a solution, you couldn’t ignore or avoid him, at least not forever. Why did you ever agree to fake a relationship anyways? If only you could turn back time and tell your CEO and the entire JYP entourage to get fucked.

A buzzing under your pillow snaps you back to your senses, realising it’s your phone you slide your thumb across the screen to accept the call. 

“Hello?”  You ask in a hoarse tone.

“Check literally any news outlet.” A familiar voice says in a monotone voice.

“Iris, Should I be worried?”

Iris doesn’t reply and you decide to check Twitter, upon opening it you’re bombarded with notifications that all lead back to a photo of you and Chan making out. The picture has clearly been scanned to make the quality better, it’s grainy but even you can see how easy it is to tell who is in the photo. Dread fills your body at the thought of what management would say, this could compromise all of your hard work.

“I thought you were done with him,” Iris sighs, “God, Y/N... it took you years to get over him, and he has a real relationship.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You reply quietly, ignoring the sting of her words.

“I love you, okay? But I’m so worried you’ll end up hurt again.” She admits, you can hear her tapping her nails against wood, a nervous habit. “Just be careful, I’ll call you later.”

As the call ends you sigh with a smile, typical Iris trying to show she cares while remaining unfiltered. You quickly realise there's no point in hiding from any of this and get ready for what you’re sure will be an eventful day. 

When you arrive at the company building you’re quick to sneak past the secretary and into San’s office, he greets you with a suggestive look.

“You’re so lucky the apartment’s security spotted and escorted them out.” San remarks, tongue pressing against his cheek.

“I know, don’t worry Iris got to the lecture first.” You retort, pinching the bridge of your nose once you sit down on his uncomfortable sofa, damn hangovers.

San pulls open a drawer and passes you a bottle of aspirin, which falls to the floor thanks to your slightly altered (and loss of ) coordination. You mumble words of gratitude and dry swallow two.

“So how mad is everyone?” You ask meekly, not meeting his eyes.

“Well, no one really is. It got you more buzz and sales but there is a broken-hearted girl to think about.”

Shit, Mijoo.

You get up in a flash and take San’s unopened energy drink with you, as you exit his office you hear him yelling at you.

“Why does your apartment have shelves at the front door anyways?!”

It’s when you get outside and the fresh air hits that you realise you have no idea what to do. Woolim is a twenty minute walk at best, you have no idea if Mijoo will even be there but it’s worth a shot. On the way you stop to get two cans of iced coffee and hope she’s still feeling kind after what you pulled last night.

The Woolim building is finally in sight and you push the door open and are stunned to see Mijoo on the other side. Her eyes are glassy and swollen and she isn’t giving off her usual bright aura, but still she smiles at you.

“Hey, trying to hit me?” She jokes with a wry laugh.

“Mijoo...can we talk?” 

“Um…” She looks anywhere but your eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

“Seungah, five minutes is all I need. Then if you want I’ll never talk again.” You plead, she sighs but accepts, turning back and leading you to the private back ‘garden’ which is just concrete and a bench.

“Thank you.” You say, bowing your head a little. She laughs and takes a coffee out of the plastic bag when you sit down.

“Formalities aren’t needed between us, what do you want?”

Her bluntness catches you off guard, up close you can see mascara has seeped around her eye bags and dried up. She definitely knew what had happened but wanted to hear it from you, which petrifies you. How are you supposed to casually say the truth and not get punched in the face?

“I know you saw the picture but you need to hear it from me,” You begin, licking your lips. “I kissed Chan, he didn’t return my feelings and he’s probably going to try to take half the blame.”

Mijoo’s facial expression doesn’t change and she takes a sip of coffee, folding her lips into a thin line after she swallows the bitter liquid. 

“I don’t think he ever got over you.” She admits in a downcast tone. “When we started dating he told me he’d always love you a little bit, I just didn’t think you'd come back for him.”

“I didn’t come back for him,” You clarify, “I had no intentions of...any of this. I’m really sorry and I won’t come between you two again. It’s strictly business from now on, you have my word.”

“Why are you so keen on keeping us together?” She says, stunned.

“I don’t want to be the reason anyone is hurt.” 

“What about you then? Won’t this hurt you?”

You don’t reply, instead returning the same kind smile she had given you. Of course it’ll hurt you, but you can’t bear the weight of hurting anyone the way you did, even Chris. For so long it was all you wanted, for him to feel the pain you did that night in his car.

A week passes by in a flash, between schedules and training you haven’t had any time to dwell on Chan which is nice for once. San and Iris make sure to keep you up to date on what he’s been up to since you shooed him away like a bad dog.

Luckily fake media reports of you two being spotted have been enough to keep the ‘break up’ rumours at bay for now. Eventually you will have to face him, but if Mijoo’s Instagram story is any indication, it’s a happy one of them and their daily coffee trips. Meanwhile all your days are spent in the dance studio, trying to perfect your end of year performance.

Your newest track took two weeks alone to record, it was yet again a song you hadn’t intended on releasing. The lyrics were about being drunk, horny and sad which are emotions you felt most days. The choreography was the most challenging part, primarily because you weren’t much of a dancer to begin with. 

“Perfect!” Your teacher, Hyolyn praises with a satisfied smile.

You collapse on the floor and try to catch your breath, taking a second to gulp down water. Although it’s  hard work, it was extremely rewarding. According to San, you’re predicted to win two awards and nominated for four which was insane considering last year you were #9 on ‘Top 10 least watched debuts’. 

“How close am I to acing this?”You ask, completely drained.

“I’d give it a week.” Hyolyn replies after taking a second to evaluate you.

Groaning, you lie down on the hardwood floors and shut your eyes. The performance was in nine days, giving you little to no time to rest. Iris also had you booked for three days of practicing your makeup for the show, which included intricate and trendy tattoo art all over your arms and littered over any other revealed areas, for hair you would be wearing a wig, lighter than your own hair but similar to how it looked in a recent magazine spread. 

It was all down to you to ace this performance, and you only had one shot.

“Y/N? Y/N L/N!” 

San’s voice snaps you back to your senses, he guides you up from the floor and gives you a once-over and decides you look fine. Then, without a word, drags you down through the busy city and into a quaint cafe, filled with greenery and flowers galore. You spot Wooyoung’s blonde hair behind the counter and smile knowingly, of course.

“Am I here to third wheel?” You joke, elbowing his ribs.

“Shut up, We’re here for you to experience a delectable latte topped with chocolate art and if you’re good I’ll buy you a bean bun.” 

You sit down on an empty chair without a word, smiling up at him. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for a fresh bean bun, especially if it’s free. San goes up to the counter, his laugh echoes around the small area when Wooyoung makes a little joke involving word play. Minutes later, a steamy cup of coffee is in front of you with a cute little bunny made of white liquid and you can’t help but look down in amazement.

“Good, right?” Wooyoung beams, full of well-deserved confidence.

“Amazing,” You gush, taking a sip reluctantly, not wanting to ruin the illustration. 

Wooyoung takes a bow and walks back to the counter, brewing up another order in no time, San watches intently resting his chin in the palm of his hand. What an idiot, you think, although you’re slightly envious no one looks at you that way. 

Several more cups and bean buns later, you leave the lovebirds to return home for some well needed rest. Today is the only actual real chance of resting up before the real work begins, even the thought makes your body ache. But all that fades away when you see a familiar face at your door, Chan.

“Chan?” You say bewildered, “Why are you here?”

“Can we talk?” He asks, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away again.

“Okay.”

Five minutes later he’s sitting across the coffee table, stirring a cup of instant coffee and not saying a word. What is there to say? You were both drunk exes longing to relive old times, Yes you would always love him but he wasn’t yours anymore, he hadn’t been for years.

You weren’t the same person, the cheap electric guitar you’d adored has spun into a customised Fender, his dark curls had been swapped for blonde locks that hung across his face. You had loved and lost him, found him and begun the cycle again.

“Why did you try to lie to Seungah?” 

“She’s your girlfriend, you clearly care about her and I didn’t want you to lose that because of a stupid mistake.” You say, even though it was no mistake on your behalf.

Chan laughs dryly in response, eyes becoming unreadable and dark.

“You didn’t want me to fuck you that night?” 

Before you can reply he's standing up, walking towards you and clearly loving that in your seated position he towers over you. He notices your thighs are shut as much as they can be and coos. 

“Is that all it takes, huh?” He says, mocking your tone from that night. “As much as you love pushing me around and belittling me, you love to be put in your place don’t you?”

A strained sound leaves your throat and you try to push it away, the feeling of wanting him to be in control, to be vulnerable for him. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt a handful of times and always with him. You knew he was just frustrated and feeling rejected, if anything did happen you’d wake up alone to a regretful voicemail.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, I would call you dumb but that would turn you on.” You finally retort, standing up to fully enjoy the flush of humiliation come over his face.

“Know your place.”  

“Kiss me,” He pleads, soft eyes full of stars. “Just once more.”

You swallow thickly, once more is all he’s asking for. Hesitating for a second, you raise your arms and gently take his face into your hands, thumbing over his jaw the way he likes and press your lips against his. The kiss is firm and chaste, much unlike the last one that was filled with hunger and urgency, this...feels final. Neither of you pull away, Chan deepening the kiss more and settling on wrapping his arms around you over his oxygen levels. 

You feel tears starting to pool within your closed eyes and it burns, finally pulling away when it all becomes too much. His warm disposition is so apparent in his teary eyes and it hurts more than ever, you drop your hands from his face and he takes them into his own, a bittersweet feeling coming to the surface.

“Goodbye again, Y/N.” Chan says with a smile, letting go your hands and heading towards the door.

“Goodbye, Chris.” You reply in a faltering tone, turning away as he shuts the door behind him. 

You’re left sobbing on the linoleum floors of your apartment, ignoring various buzzes from your phone hours later when you finally calm down enough to sit on the couch and numbly stare at the flickering TV. Then it comes up on a pop music channel, your face and his with the headline: Bang Chan and Y/N announce break up. 

#skz scenarios #skz chan #skz imagines #skz x you #skz #skz x reader #bang chan angst #stray kids chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan blurbs #bang chan x reader #stray kids blurbs #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut

[fabricated-misslieness]

Tyler Ronan x female reader

@ichigostrawberry15​ the birthday part was awfully short

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 1578

“How do you always end up double booked?”

“Because I’m too much of a badass to read a schedule.”

The bell at the doorway dinged, which caught everyone’s attention, apart from the not-so-legal hunter at the back. A girl around the twins’ age walked in, and needless to say, she was beautiful. The very sight of her took Tyler’s breath away and he couldn’t even take his eyes off of her. She walked right past him, which brought a frown to his face.

“If you read the schedule, you would’ve realized it’s my shift.” She lightly punched Michael on the shoulder.

Michael frowns for a second, trying to decipher whether she’s joking or not. When he realizes it is, in fact, her shift, he retaliates to keep his dignity. “And you’re late.”

She laughs, which makes Tyler gawk at her even more than he did before. “Can’t deny that.”

The two of them strike up a conversation, while Tyler stares with a dopey look. He’s so immersed in his befuddled little staring that Alyson manages to sneak up behind him.

“Boo.” 

Tyler jumps forward a bit, staring back at Aly with an annoyed look. “Aly!” He whines, but all she does is smirk at him.

“Can’t help but notice you’re ogling at my friends. The question is, which one?” 

Tyler rolls his eyes and turns back to them, but he answers anyway. Aly will never stop at nothing, she continues prying for the answer until she gets it, so there’s no point in fighting against it. “Her.”

“That’s (y/n), she’s a friend of mine, planning to move to Juneu too. She also works here and lucky for you, she’s single.” Alyson pats him on the shoulder while he sputters for words.

“Aly!” Is all he manages to say.

"Just talk to her, come on. I know she's pretty and all, but don't let it overwhelm you." Alyson shrugs, continuing to pat her twin on the shoulder to try to coax him into doing it. It’s rather annoying, which is primarily why it works.

“Fine.” Tyler huffs. Alyson grins in victory, but she doesn’t have time to rub it in his face. She pushes him forward, until Tyler moves away from her.

“Michael.” Tyler nods at him as a greeting. Michael smiles at him, turning to you and then back at him. He can read a situation, and Tyler clearly wants to be alone with you.

He kicks himself off his position leaning on the shelf, grinning brightly at the two of you. “I’m going to go do some inventory stuff.” Neither of you can tell him that it’s not his shift, as he’s already leaving by the time he finishes his sentence.

“I’m Tyler–” 

You interrupt him, that smile on your face is bright as ever. "Ronan? Yeah, Aly's told me all about you."

Tyler glances at his twin with a small glare, but Alyson is too busy trying to avoid suspicion by inspecting the shelf so she can’t quite catch it. However, she does know that he is glancing at her now, it’s quite obvious. “Aly…” Is all he says with their voice, but he turns back to you just as quick.

“The only thing she hasn’t told me,” Your tone is playful and your look reminds him of a cheeky fox. “is how good looking you are.”

He’s stunned, sputtering for words once again. When he does find them, he regrets it. "You're not so bad yourself." He grimaced at the horrible compliment while you merely smiled at him. He could tell that you'd somehow noticed that he meant to say more.

"I have to go.” You give him another bright smile. “Michale needs help, as well as somebody to tell him to leave. But remember, when Michael isn't working, I'm working. Feel free to come by and visit any time. I might just give you a discount."

Tyler walks over to Alyson, who whistles and looks away from him to feign innocence. "You didn't tell me you told her about me!"

“I didn’t realize we’d be moving to Juneau so near to your birthdays.” Both twins looked at you curiously, one with a raised eyebrow and the other with a quirked head. “Don’t tell me you both forgot.” You frown at them both, hands on your hips like a disappointed mother.

Michael takes the last bags out of the back of the car, slamming the trunk shut. “She means your birthdays.” 

“Oh.”

“Ohhh!”

“I thought we were keeping that a secret.” Michael hits your hand lightly, both to catch your attention and scold you slightly. He hands you a box from the twins’ old house.

“Keeping what a secret? I doubt people forget their birthdays, I’m just reminding them.” You shrug. It was fairly obvious what the both of you were planning to do. You might as well be saying it right in their faces, but the neither of you do.

Michael rolls his eyes, “Let’s get inside already. It’s cold out here.”

Once inside, you set the box on the floor. “(y/n),” Michael groans. “that box was for the living room. I was hoping you’d unpack it.”

“You want me to unpack or make my world renown hot chocolate?” In an instant, everybody’s eyes light up. While your hot chocolate may not be world renown, it is some of the best stuff anybody will ever taste.

“On second thought–”

Tyler interrupts Michael. He smiles eagerly, jumping up and down excitedly like a child. “Yes! Go make them, I’ll handle the living room.”

Michael laughs, pretending to act mature even if he’s also childishly excited for that sweet, warm mug of hot chocolate. Alyson, on the other hand, can mask her excitement perfectly fine, but that’s not to say that she isn’t excited.

“Alright, cinnamon for you.” You hand Alyson her mug, which she accepts with a small ‘thank you’. “Marshmallows for you.” Michael is next, he gives you a smile and a small nod. “And a chocolate stick for you.” Lastly is Tyler, who is still jumping up and down, though this time, in his seat.

Everybody takes a deep inhale of the smell before taking a sip. 

The first few times he’d tasted it, Tyler basically scarfed it down like a one-bite pastry, but over the time he knew to take a few sips and savour it. That didn’t mean it wasn’t as tasty anymore, just a lot better now that he had a sort of ‘method’ for drinking it. Not to mention that he used to burn his tongue a lot.

You take a seat and watch the rest of your friends close their eyes with delight. It’s nice to know they enjoy it so much. “How is it?”

“Good as always.” Michael replies. The twins say something along those lines.

“Oh really?” You sigh dramatically. “I thought I’d done something different this time.” Your friends scramble to find new compliments, especially Tyler. To tell the truth, they hadn’t tasted much difference.

“I’m kidding.”

Alyson laughs, Michael frowns at you while trying to hold back his smile, and Tyler sinks into the couch with a sigh of relief.

“But really, what additions do I make?” Alyson and Michael give a few suggestions, but Tyler gives none. 

He doesn’t think that your hot chocolate needs a change. It’s “perfect, just like you.”

“Thank you.”

Tyler freezes in place, mid sip. He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud. You laugh, pushing his hands down to prevent him from burning his lips with the drink. The warmth of your touch in his hand mingles for a while, along with the warmth in his chest turning into something else.

“Didn’t mean to say that out loud, did you?”

Tyler shakes his head furiously, somehow managing to keep his mug in place. “I–”

“Finish those mugs, we have a lot of stuff to unpack.”

“Here you go.” You hand Aly her wrapped gift, which she thanks you for. As she digs into the wrapping, Tyler turns to you with a pout.

“What about mine?” You laugh, turning to him.

“Your gift… It’s not exactly material.” Tyler furrows his eyebrows, quirking his head to the side. You can’t help but compare him to a confused puppy. “It’s a kiss.”

Tyler’s eyes widen and he sputters about for words. You seem to make him do that a lot. “Like.. in what way?”

You laugh shaking your head, “I don’t know, you decide. Romantic or platonic? I mean, a kiss on the cheek isn’t really a gift. A kiss on the lips, though, I think I’d accept that for my birthday. Wouldn’t you?”

Tyler nods his head slowly, lips pressed into a thin line while he contemplates what you mean. When he catches on, he feels blood flow into his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, I would.” Even so, he doesn’t lean in, and neither do you. Really, you expected him to accept quite eagerly, but he hadn’t.

“Well?” Tyler smiles nervously, but still, he can’t seem to make himself move. He’s frozen in place.

“Tyler, save us all some suffering will you?” Michael groans. “We got more gifts.”

“Yeah, yeah..” He stares at your lips for so long, that you have to lean in. The kiss is brisk, for Michael and Alyson’s sake. Even with how short it is, it holds a certain sweetness that even your hot chocolate doesn’t have.

“And don’t worry, that wasn’t my only gift, babe.”

#Tyler Ronan x reader #tyler ronan x female reader #tell me why fanfiction #craving fic

[eccentricpony]

Hi, your kaomojis were so cute! UwU Could I request a movie theater date hc with Tenma? ty!!

Hey anon, thanks for visiting my page! I’d be happy to write this for you! I’m going to write in the style of bulleted imagine if that’s okay. My writing style is usually a usually a little campy humorous, a little emotional, a little sexy, and sometimes flowery.

I apologize if my tenses changed, or the style changed, but I just wanted to have fun with it. Maybe possibly a tiny bit implied NSFW but not really. 

·        You were determined to take Tenma to a movie theater as soon as you had found out he had never been to one.

·        Despite his fame, you had learned that this child star beau of yours had missed out on many opportunities that you had taken for granted growing up. Your boyfriend was an odd blend of mature and immature due to his isolation and the pressure to manage a full-time profession at the age of seven. Fame has a price, as they say.

·        He was hesitant at first – visiting a heavy traffic social scene meant donning sunglasses, avoiding eye contact… but you had already figured that part out! You’d be soliciting Monster Movie Night at the old theater-turned-cinema in the town square. You were sure Tenma would appreciate the 19th century theater aesthetic, and it was sure to have less attendees than the cinema at the mall.

·        And what better movie genre to experience in an old, darkened theater than a classic horror!

·        Yeah, no, Tenma was having none of that.

·        He claimed that the movie you chose had received bad reviews.

·        You then forwarded him the 97% fresh rating from RottenApples.com.

·        He argued that the antagonist of the film was an actor he had worked with before and it would be “too weird” to watch someone he knew go on a killing spree.

·        You proceeded to locate said actor on IFDB.com to find that he had passed away two years before Tenma was born.

·        The lake of excuses having run dry, Tenma agreed to pick you up at 1pm that coming Saturday.

·        Tenma was a bit more fidgety than usual in the back of his family limo. You assumed that it was date night jitters, which was so very precious. The old-fashioned theater marquee came into view, and you excitedly shuffled closer to the window. Nightmare on Birch Street! It had been ages since you had seen the film, and you couldn’t recall how the victims had all been killed… was it Chauncey who had been impaled by the school flagpole?  You continued to jabber excitedly, the exhilarated sentiments floating through your head remaining unscathed as Tenma had the common courtesy to feign a cough so you couldn’t glimpse his sour expression.

·        The journey from the ticket kiosk to the theater was uneventful. There were a few stares, and a “Aren’t you that kid? From the show? At that school?” but you made it to your seats in under 10.

·        Wow, they really renovated this place! It was a bit sad to see that the creaky wooden seats of the theater had been replaced with cushy, high-tech armchairs, but it was comforting to know you wouldn’t be suffering a butt-ache following the film.

·        Immediately, Tenma started messing with the seat like he was in a dentist’s chair. Leg rest up, back down, leg rest down, back straight, back flat. 123 degree angle…

·        “Don’t you have chairs like this at home, rich boy?”

·        “Yeah, but I never sit in my living room. There’s never anyone there.”

·        Oh. You held out the bag of popcorn as a peace offering. “Well, you know that you’re welcome at my house any time you like.”

·        “Yeah so I can recite the monologue from Shinobi Love Song to your mom for the 100th time? I’ll pass”

·        “Forget it, sunshine. It was hasty of me to assume you’d be able to find my house without the guidance of Igawa…”

·        Cheeky banter was the norm with the two of you, and you never tired of it. He handed you the box of Soup Patch kids with a feigned scowl as the lights in the theater began to dim. Leg rest up, back at a 95 degree angle was his final decision.

·        He figured he’d have sometime before the killing started, so he decided to try and pay attention to the overall plot and characters, in case you had questions for him later. So wait… the killer doesn’t actually murder them in real life, but in their dreams? What kind of late night, infomercial hour, made-for-TV junk is this…

·        Time to do the classic yawn and stretch. Smooth as a milkshake, he performed what he felt was a very believable yawn (practiced to a fault due to all of his roles as a too-cool-for-school hottie) and casually rested the stretch of his arm across your shoulder.

·        You had been dating for about 7 months now. You had been moderately intimate. For Tenma to put on this song-and-dance just to hold onto you was a surefire tell that he was nervous. You hadn’t even really considered that maybe he didn’t like horror. You just assumed that because he was an acting professional that he was also a film aficionado, and a fan of all genres, at that. Stop pigeonholing him! you reminded yourself. Sure, he was perfect to you, but you had to let go of those preconceived notions.

·        You turned and leaned closer to him, close enough to kiss. His throat constricted, he had heard there was more to these cinemas than just watching the movie. He prayed to God that this was your intention all along.

·        “We can leave if you’re not into it” you insisted into his cheek.

·        Pulse still quickening through his neck, he sat back and shook is head.

·        “Nah babe, it’s cool. I liked the…” He proceeded to regurgitate every possible fact he had learned about the film within the last 15 minutes.

·        Damn, so he was paying attention. You knew there was no point coaxing him to leave once he had made his mind up to stay, so instead you leaned forward and gave him a peck on the nose.

·        “You’re adorable.”

·        “Tch…” He bristled returning his back to the seat, but with the pouty pleased grin of a child who received praise for a shitty drawing. He watched as your eyes returned to the screen, and you flicked a few pieces of popcorn into your pretty mouth. Now what to do?

·        Anything but look at the screen, really. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow as the movie soundtrack reached a crescendo. He swiftly brushed them off into his already unruly ginger mane. He needed to distract himself, at least until the slicing and dicing had desisted.

·        What’s this hole for? Tenma located an out of place hole attached to the arm of the chair. It doesn’t seem to have a bottom, but it does taper off deeper down. Curiosity got the best of him, and he casually slid his hand down into the soft drink cupholder. That’s freakin’ weird, there’s nothing even down there. Dumb. And he promptly finds his hand very much stuck.

·        Shit, now what? Now he was really sweating. Some freakin’ great newspaper article this would make. “Teen drama heartthrob finds himself arrested not by the eyes of a young beauty, but the grasp of a plastic cupholder.”  His father would kill him, to be sure. He’d probably have to sign autographs for all of the firefighters who removed the plastic cupholder from around his sore wrist. Here he is, trying so very hard to be a man’s man, to weather the barbarism that is horror cinema just to impress you, and now he’d gotten his hand stuck in the metaphorical cookie jar like a damn kid.

·        He twists and pulls but he can’t get the heel of his palm back through the opening. He jerks his hand in frustration and elbows your flimsy paper cup of Canada Dry. Oh, so that’s what they’re for…

·        “Hey! You got ginger ale on me, what are you doing?” You cocked an eyebrow at his hunched form.

·        “Sorry, sorry! Yeah, I- I think I’ve got it. Don’t worry about me- hey! I think that guy in on a TV show with my father.”

·        Snapping your head back to the screen, you consented that the man did indeed work with Tenma’s father (you’ve told him this before, he’s one of your favorite actors, and now you need to remind him again why his acting is so transcendent that even in a horror movie he can make the most mundane gestures seem so…)

·        To Tenma’s great relief, it turns out ginger ale makes a passable lubricant. Using the splash that now trickled down his forearm, he twisted his wrist and managed to retrieve his very sore hand, tingling with pins and needles as he returned it to his lap. He sensed that you’ve finished your rant and offers a vacant smile. “Yeah… he’s a talented guy…” Crisis averted.

·        Back to all the crazy shit happening on Birch Street. Tenma blanched as the whir of a chainsaw could be heard offscreen.

·        “You okay? he asked, leaning over to comfort you which really wasn’t necessary whatsoever since you actually seemed extremely excited and not the least bit worried or bothered by all of the disgusting blood and guts and weird fleshy ceiling splayed onto the wall by the projector overhead.

·        Before you had a chance to reply, he nuzzled in close to you, his hair brushing your cheek as he snuggled next to your chin. D’aww. You wiggled closer, touching the side of your forehead to his as the shrieks of the Final Girl could be felt penetrating the very seat below you. Great acoustics.

·        Tenma wiggles his head into the crook of your neck to avoid looking at the carnage, murmuring an almost devious “Don’t be scared” into your ear before pressing a kiss to the column of your throat.

·        Your heart leaps into your ears at the sudden burst of semi-public affection; Tenma wasn’t big on PDA, and you were cool with that. He smelled like a mix of clean cotton and Cool Water (they still make that?) He didn’t really do much besides camp out there above your collarbone after that, but his ghosting breath gave you pleasant chills, so you didn’t tell him he was missing the best part.

·        You smelled like almonds and Freesia, he considered. His mother loved Freesia and she had planted them all along their estate courtyard, though she was rarely at home long enough to enjoy it. Tenma enjoyed sitting in the courtyard as a child. While the house was always eerily silent aside from the sterile hum of electricity, the courtyard was always full of tweets and twittering after school, and a discordant chorus of various chirping in the evening. That was what homes are supposed to be like, he had always thought. Chaotic and noisy, but full of life. It was his safe haven, and you carried the scent of it on your skin. You were his new sanctuary… a little pocket of protection from the pains of fake friends and real insecurities.

·        These are his last thoughts before he fell asleep. You realize he’s out like a light as the credits roll, and you feel a sliver of drool trail down your clavicle. Hot.

·        “Tenma? Hey!” He startles awake and you attempt to suppress a grin. “Hope it was a good dream.”

·        Tenma may not have book smarts, but he’s far from stupid. He knows that you know he hated it, and he knows that you know that he knows he was just playing the brave guy to shield his ego. He was beginning to confuse himself, so instead he focused on the core of the matter – he loved you enough to feign interest in something you liked, and you loved him enough to go along with it.

·        “They’re always great when they feature my favorite co-star.” He leaned forward and gave the bridge of your nose a chaste smooch.

·        Gahhh. The right side of your mouth pinches up in a grin. Damn you and your flawless smileyou’re your immaculate stage presence.

·        After he returned his hat and sunglasses to their proper place, with twin grins syrupy-sweet enough to make Yuki vomit, you exited the theater.

·        Once outside, he took your hand and pulled you off to the side of the theater, at the mouth of the little alleyway that led to a street behind the theater. His wide palm and long fingers felt warm and comforting, though rather sticky and smelling oddly of ginger.  

·        “Thanks for coming out with me. I know it’s a pain in the ass for you,” you offered before he could speak.

·        “Nah,” he deflects. “I’m used to it.”

·        You knew he still hated it.

·        “Plus, you’re worth it,” he added, feet shuffling and pink tinging the tips of his ears.

·        Butterflies, oh so many butterflies. Rolling onto your toes, you leaned up and kissed him. After a meager gasp of surprise, he returned it with fervor, nose brushing against yours as he experimented with a few different head angles. Sour Patch kids never tasted so good.

·        The thump of a closing car door was unfortunately audible above the sounds of your smacking mouths – Igawa was on the move and ready to shuffle the prince of teen dramas and his beloved to the safety of the Sumeragi Cadillac CT5. You groaned in unison, and not the good kind.

·        Dragging your mouths apart, your mutual stares shared a silent vow that you would find a way to pick this up again later. Without a word, you both emerged from the shadows, fingers tangled tighter together as you steeled yourselves for a lecture from Igawa on the dangers of lingering in crowded places.

·        You had no doubt there would still be plenty more adjustments to be made by both parties, and many a wall to gently tumble down. But that was a future nearly too resplendent to imagine, when where you were now was already a pretty fantastic place to be.

#a3! #a3! actor training game #tenma sumeragi #tenma x reader #a3! imagines #a3! headcanons #a3 imagines #a3 headcanons #a3 tenma #sumeragi tenma #a3! tenma #a3 actor training game #act! addict! actors!

[inadaydream99]

Hi! This may seem like a weird request. But can I get an Ateez scenario where the reader really loves kpop but also likes rock / hard rock music? This is honestly my life lol. Thank you so much!

Hey thank you for requesting! Sorry this has taken so long, but I hope you enjoy each scenario! 😊 I really enjoyed writing this cause this is literally my taste in music too 😂

Hongjoong

You were sat at the kitchen table, mindlessly humming away along to your Spotify playlist that consists a mix of all your favourite songs. It’s one that you listen to every morning, while eating breakfast, to get you in a good mood for the day.

Because you listen to a wide variety of music, you never know what song could be played next, wether it’s a cheesy pop song, Kpop or even rock. But that’s part of the enjoyment.

Your boyfriend Hongjoong finds your taste in music very amusing at times. It never fails to put a smile of his face when he sees you go from signing your heart out to a cheesy upbeat song to headbanging along to the clash of drums and guitars.

“Are you in an angsty mood today?” Hongjoong laughs as you headbang over your cereal bowl.

“When aren’t I.” You joke along, resuming eating while Hongjoong sits opposite you.

“Well, yesterday you were dancing around to Wave, which I wouldn’t classify as angsty in the slightest.” You snort with laughter at your boyfriends observation, both of you with giant smiles on your faces as you settle into conversation.

Seonghwa

“You like rock?” Seonghwa questions, his tone conveying his confusion as you look up to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, why are you so surprised?” You reply causally, not really thinking too much about his question.

“I just didn’t realise. I’ve never heard you listen to anything other than Kpop before.” He laughs as he approches you and pulls you into his arms.

“You’re full of surprises and I love discovering them.” He whispers as he draws your face closer to his, your foreheads resting together as you giggle shyly under your boyfriend’s affectionate gaze.

Yunho

You were waiting in the car for Yunho to join you, your music blasting through the speakers loudly as your boyfriend is finally ready.

“Ah, what a cultured bean you are.” You laugh uncontrollably at his comment, the randomness of calling you a cultured bean really amusing you.

“What has beans got to do with being cultured?” You question through a laugh, turning your attention to your boyfriend in the passengers seat.

“It’s just an expression cause you are listening to rock, it’s different.” He states with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Uhuh, sure.” You retort playfully as you start the car engine.

“Hey, don’t mock me!” Yunho protests, feigning being upset by your comment.

“Don’t mock me!” You mimick as you drive off. Yunho sighs as he realises the mistake of accepting a lift from you, he is now aware it’s going to be a long drive.

Yeosang

“Damn, you’ve got good taste.” Yeosang comments nodding his head in approval.

“Why thank you.” You bow your head as you join him on the sofa.

Yeosang’s comment was about your choice in music. You were both having a lazy afternoon together and he suggested to play some music for background noise while you cuddle. So you put on shuffle your most listened to songs on Spotify, which consists of a mix of many genres. The first song being a rock song, which is a genre Yeosang didn’t know you enjoyed.

As you cuddle up together, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm comfortingly wraps around your waist, you take his other hand and begin to play with his fingers.

“I should let you pick the music more often. This is great.” Yeosang compliments, his voice lazy and quiet which makes you chuckle at him.

San

“I, too, have duality.” San states, feeling a little betrayed that you had never told him about your love for rock music alongside pop.

“I know San, I’ve seen you perform HALA HALA and look like you’ve been possessed. It’s the complete opposite to my adorable mushy boyfriend.” You coo at the last part, reaching up to squish his cheek.

“I’m just offended you didn’t tell me you had a darker side.” San pouts, his demeanour becoming that of a stroppy child’s.

“A darker side?” You laugh, taking a lot of amusement from his jealousy.

“Oh you know!” San throws his hand up in the air which only makes you laugh more.

You take his hands in yours and intertwine your fingers together, peering up at him to get his gaze onto you. Your cheeky smile makes a smile break out on his face, the pout fading as he cracks and gives up his sulky act.

Mingi

You are in hysterics after Mingi’s responce to walking into your room and finding you aggressively (or passionately as you like to refer to it) head banging to some rock music.

“But we are the sunshine and rainbows couple.” Mingi slightly whines as he stands in the doorway.

You approach your boyfriend, placing your hands on his chest as you stare up at him with a smirk.

“We still can be, and are.” You chuckle softly. Mingi’s hands move to hold your waist as a cheeky grin appears on his face.

“Oh good.” He laughs before he tickles your sides, taking you completely by surprise.

“Ah Mingi! Stop!” You cry out, tears of laughter falling down your cheeks as you become week from the tickles, your arms clinging around his neck to keep you from falling down due to losing your balance.

You bury your face into your boyfriends chest as soon as he stops his tickle attack, his hands resuming holding you as you take deep breaths to regain your composure.

After a few minutes you are finally calm, a plan for revenge made as you lift your head to look up at your unsespecting boyfriend, mischief in your expression as you suddenly begin tickling him.

“That’s what you get for attacking me!” You say through your concentrated face as Mingi try’s to escape.

Wooyoung

“That’s hot.” the direct statement taking you by surprise, your first reaction to stop the rock music you are playing and to look at your boyfriend for him to explain.

“You listening to rock. I didn’t know you had that side, it’s hot.” Wooyoung continues upon seeing your reaction.

You crack a smile at this and decide to play up to his confession.

“I had no idea that rock music was a turn on for you Woo.” you state in a low tone, fluttering your eyelashes at your boyfriend.

“You have no idea.” Wooyoung reply’s, his voice filled with lust.

Jongho

“What a sophisticated taste you have.” is the first thing you hear as your boyfriend returns home.

“Is that meant to be a joke?” You question with a raised brow. You know that Jongho likes to try and act more mature considering he is younger than you. He wants you to think of him as a man, which you definitely do.

“Oh no baby, I was just trying to sound intelligent.” His eyes go wide with worry, not wanting to offend you in any way.

“I was only messing with you, don’t look so worried.” you giggle at how sensitive to your reactions your boyfriend can be.

“Ok good, I was worried you’d taken it the wrong way. And just so you know, I love your choice in music.” Jongho says as he walks towards you, his arms open wide to pull you into his warm embrace. A genuine smile consumes your face at how lucky you are to have such an amazing boyfriend like Jongho.

#ateez requests #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #kpop requests #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop x reader

[itsthe-neo-zone]

Star-Crossed Seas - ATEEZ

Please read the Masterlist before continuing, thank you.

Chapter 1: The Illusion of a flag

“Do hold on tight miss, we wouldn’t want you falling overboard.” The maid responsible for me ran after my quick and exuberating figure as I made my way around the large and grand ships masts swinging around the third, 3 times before being caught by loving arms. My mother had taken up my offer and pleading of wanting to join her on the voyage of a lifetime.

“Now, sweetheart listen to your nana. She’s doing this for your safety, behave dearest.” My mothers soothing and loving voice murmured into my years as she caressed the long locks of my soft hair that cascaded down my back.

“Yes, mother.” I shy back from her kisses as she played with the hem of my newly bought dress. The frocks were given to me on this occasion as we were going to live for some time in the main island of Rockport to live with my uncle. He was one of the highest commanders of the royal navy and was the queens second hand.

“You don’t want to ruin your beautiful gown you were just given.” She mused her hand caressing my cheek. The wind had picked up a little and as it had the ship rocked forward harshly as the sakes filled up with a particularly powerful gust.

She pulled me into her hold shielding me from the harsh winds that lead the ship to its final destination.

“Madame Emilia, do take the young lady into the main quarters, the deck isn’t a place for a young girl like her, we don’t want her getting wet or slipping.” he mutters the last part so only the dutchess could hear it. She glanced at him understanding what he meant and nodding.

“I’m a big girl, I can look after myself though. I’m almost 10 years old.” I plead to my mother speaking quickly to let her know the excitement I’m feeling. Lifting up all my fingers to show her the digits. She smiles at my antics.

“I know, but if you’re so big- A large 10! -We would need someone to captain this ship, don’t we?” she feigns thoughtfulness as she lifts her arm to her chin pretending to think about the question for a moment.

I quickly rise to the task, jumping up and down as I squeal. “Oh Please, let it be me. Pick me! I want to be the captain.”

“Well then, lead the way captain Ana!”

My mother watches as I run through the deck and past soldiers -under the command of my father as they stop to give a respectful bow- to the main quarters of the vessel the maid running after me to make sure I was safe.

“Thank you, Theo, for looking after us, its most difficult to do everything, especially with one child on the way as well as looking after Ana trying to keep her in form.”

The Madame thanked the officer next to her as she held her hand on her stomach greeting the first signs of life in her touch.

“Don’t thank me madame, I’m doing my duty I swore to protect you and the young lady as well as you infant for the time you stay away from the governor.” He bowed and made his way off to his main station.

I remember till this day seeing the black and orange flag sailing through the mist to the starboard side of the ship we were sailing on. There was another ship there, its presence was made known through the ringing of a distinct instrument and a bell.

Though I asked a couple of the maids and even my mother, none had heard a pin drop the whole time. My mother had told me to stop and that it was just my eyes seeing things since it was my first time on a ship.

I didn’t know if you had stayed on a ship for a while, it was possible to have hallucinations.

~~~

For a long time, I had forgotten about the black and orange flag I had witnessed brushing it off as my imagination playing tricks with me. I was only 10 after all. Though as I was getting ready to board a ship for the second time in my life almost 8 years after my first encounter with the ocean the memory had resurfaced again.

Such a dull time it was, I remember fairly that day there was no sun present in the bright blue sky only a boring gloomy mist of colourless clouds.

“Mother I’ll be fine; I’m going to attend a funeral not to live there.” I protest as my mother dotes on me again making sure my gown is properly worn. She pulls the mini cropped frills of my coat to my chest making sure I look modest.

“you’re a grown woman now, act like one and do be haste in your return,” she murmurs giving me a gentle reminder.

“Yes mother.” I smile at her worry showing through. I quickly give her a hug. As I couch down hugging my younger brother, the just 7 yr old had cheerfully come to greet me as he played with my locks.

“Mother, where’s Ana going?”

“She is going away for a short while and she’ll be back soon, don’t worry too much Avel.” My mother replies as she pulls him to the side.

“Anastasia,” she calls out as I have reached the bottom step of the grand staircase, I spin very quickly to face her.

She pulls out her pendant with the seal of the royal navy placed upon it and the scroll she wrote each one of us inside its hold.

I nod understanding as I pull mine out from underneath the clothing I wore. Showing it to her before entering the carriage.

The port was bustling with life and I know I would have been dangerously swept away from all of the commotion and excitement there was at the harbour.

My uncle informed me that he gave me a magnificent vessel to board as I travelled for a comfortable commute and following the officer that had accompanied me to the harbour I was surprised to my contentment. It was a magnificent vessel indeed one of the finest the Royal navy had to offer.

A three mast based wooden, mahogany, vessel with large white plain sheets of linen, the strongest cotton and two main quarters. The ship had a large British flag at the back signifying its loyalty and alliance to the Royal navy.

I hastily made my way to the port of the ship where I was to embark and take my leave.

~~~

I would love to ask my younger self why this seemed 10 times more exciting and fun than now, maybe it was because I was much older now it had seemed boring. I had gotten onto the ship and quickly changed into more comfortable robes that I could lounge in.

It was much later on in the day as the afternoon had neared. I was lounging in the main chair and table of the master cabin quarter and enjoying a custom dinner made specially for the royal family of the commander.

“My mother had instructed me not to walk around in my lounging robes, but I would love to take a walk on the main deck and steer the ship for a moment or two.” I murmur to the maid next to me.

She took the jug pouring me a glass of diluted fresh champagne. I had always been used to enjoying the finest of luxury around me, right from the moment I was born, up until this moment. I had people doting on me right and left for every moment of my life. It was all I was used to and knew, all I expected too.

A knock was heard from outside the double wooden framed doors, I hummed in response allowing the visitor entrance.

“My young lady, I come with a gift from your mother.” The young officer enters bowing his head.

Already? She’s sending me letters and gifts? Oh, mother it’s only been an afternoon.

“Do come in, officer Theo and call me Anastasia, no need for formalities.”

“please milady, I feel most comfortable with the formalities, allow me to call upon you this way.” I nod reluctantly allowing him to step forth and give me whatever was sent from my beloved parent.

The letter was placed before me along with a box.

I opened the letter reading the beautiful scripture my mother had always written in. smiling subconsciously over her elegance.

Dear Anastasia:

My love, I’ve left you to travel alone without the safety of me accompanying you, though your father, that cursed man, had specifically spoken saying he had wanted you to be the only one out of my family that was to visit his grave when he was to truly bite the dust.

I worry so greatly over your safety as you have become a young and mature woman. You’ve aged so very elegantly and beautifully. Do be careful and return with ease and hurriedly. I miss you and so does Avel.

I have left you the one thing I think may be of use to you in your travels, unfortunately there is no other fast route than to travel through the northern waters past pirate infested waters. I have placed your life in the hands of the most trusted officials and officer Theo will be the one to personally look after you if something is to occur.

No matter what happens, you must survive Ana. Use anyone and anything to survive. You have to return to me safe.

Keep it around your neck and whatever you do don’t take it off. May it keep your life safe my precious pearl.

Waiting for your return patiently, Your mother,

Madame Emilia Cordelia Blancscap.

I closed up the parchment paper opening a random drawer and placing it inside for safe keeping. I then opened the box and inside was the most beautiful yet strangest of amulets.

It looked to be quite symbolic, like it had affiliation with something different and with deeper meanings, as deep as the oceans themselves...

It was oval shaped with 4 ridged spikes at the edges of the top. On it stood a symbol of what looked to be a trident a fishtail and a crown. All three symbols engraved into the entity of what looks to be a scull.

I know mother secretly hated the fact that the royal navy were against sea folk. She herself was part of a descendant line of high merchant sailors from Spain.

What she never told me was what this pendant even meant. She didn’t mention anything about this or the fact that she had something as cryptic as this. I’ve never seen it around her or even in her possession...

Sighing, I stood up stretching as the maid prepared me my sheets to finally retire into my bed for the night.

“I would love to take a brisk walk for a moment around the deck.” I trailed off unsure of what to do.

“Milady you must rest you have a lot of duties ahead of you in the upcoming days and you will need your sleep.”

I nod agreeing to let the smooth wooden creaking and the push of the waves to and fro rock, lulling me to sleep.

#kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop memes #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez mingi #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #ateez hongjoong #ateez jongho #ateez wooyoung #ateez pirate au #ateez pirate king #Pirate fanfic #pirate ateez #pirate au #kpop funny #popular #writers on tumblr #writers #Fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts suga #bts #bts jimin #Star-Crossed Seas

[demoncryptspanties]

Time After Time

Part 5

Masterlist, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 

A/N Sorry this a day late, I didn't realise how busy I would be x. Also, thank you so much for the kind messages and support. Also due to linking issues just type in time after time and you should find the rest of these if the links don't work. 

Warnings: This chapter does contain smut so yeah. 

<<<<<<<<

You had prepared to visit the aunties a year later. There were things you needed to finish up here, and a couple other places you wanted to visit. At least that’s what you told yourself. It was more of you weren’t ready, but you didn’t want to admit that to anyone, most of all yourself. When you had gotten ready to come there was an issue. Ambrose’s uncle, the head of the coven had been caught in a scandal. It was a huge thing and the aunties thought it was best that you didn’t come until it had been sorted out.  

It had gotten worse once they had found out that his mortal wife had gotten pregnant and even worse after that as both parents had died. After the funeral, Zelda had asked you discreetly for help. You had always been good with children and although both aunties were midwives, they weren’t the best with babies especially newborns.

You had been talking to Ambrose every week, same as the aunties. You had been on better terms; one could say you were friends. Sort of. It was complicated. The amount of history between you two had meant that you were teetering on this weird line. You knew too much about each other, had been too close to start again and yet you both tried to stay on this line of not becoming too comfortable. You relayed practically every detail of every conversation with the girls.

Lilac had changed her tune. According to her, you were happier, brighter in some way. The women of the coven which you had become close to notice the same. It felt like home here, but you also missed your home there. Although your relationship with your dad was fine you kept your conversations monthly, it was weird dynamic you two had. You were angry at him, now older, now more mature, his actions and passivity was an issue in your childhood, and you had recognised that.

Once you arrived at the aunties house, you stood outside for a second or two. You spotted Ambrose sitting quite comfortably on an old trunk. You decided not to call him and instead knocked on the door and entered the house. How you couldn’t hear the baby crying from outside you would never know. Hilda was rocking the baby while Hilda sat with a cup of something a very annoyed look on her face.

She perked up at the sound of you entering the house, Hilda practically dropped the baby on you and went to the kitchen to stir something. You bounced the baby on your hip who seemed to settle down pretty quickly. The moment she stopped crying Zelda let out a sigh of relief and gestured for you to sit opposite her.

“I don’t think I have ever been so happy to see someone in my whole life.” Zelda held her cup tighter and the baby babbled a little.

“It’s good to see you too.” You started to coo at the baby who settled into your arms and fell asleep all in the space of about 10 minutes. Hilda set a brew of something in front of you which you accepted with a satisfied hum and brought it to your lips. It was something with cinnamon, extremely sweet but not sickly.

You felt a level of comfort with the aunties sitting across from you, all you were missing was Ambrose with his arm around your shoulder and a cup of tea in one hand.

“I would tell you about my journey and stuff but there is little to tell. Instead, who is this little cutie?” You shifted the baby into your other arm.

“So, this is Sabrina. You remember Ambrose’s uncle Edward. Well, I’m pretty certain you met once but yes; this is his child. He unfortunately as you know died in a plane accident with his wife. A mortal woman. This is their offspring.” She said all of that with a feign of annoyance which you knew well enough was a faced. She already adored this kid.

Ambrose came in not shortly after, the lack of crying baby seemed to draw him in. You could hear him sigh the minute he walked through the door, stopping short and cocking his head when he saw.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here, nobody told me you were coming.” He gave a pointed look at the aunties.

“I didn’t know that you didn’t know. How are you, Ambrose.” You tensed up at his surprise, Sabrina stirring in your arms.

“I’m fine.” He clearly didn’t know where to place himself, the only seat left being next to you. Selene ever protective of you crawled out of your arm and instead of doing what she was about to do, settled herself on top of the baby who grabbed her lightly. The picture of the three of you was endearing and by the time you looked up Ambrose had made his decision and settled next to you.

The feeling was odd like everything was back to ‘normal’ but also off. Like there was something on the edge of your conscious that you couldn’t place. He seemed to stop himself from doing something and refused to meet your eye.

“So, how long are you staying?” His tone had a feeling you again couldn’t place. He had changed so much over the years that you couldn’t read him as easily as you use to.

“Well, I’m not actually sure. I was asked to help with the baby. I suppose when you’re settled, I’ll leave again.” He seemed to ponder something before nodding his head slowly.

It turned out to be 8 months. You and Ambrose acted as you could, almost as if close friends. Angelica visited twice and Lilac once. Everyone meeting Lilac was probably the highlight of your 8 months stay. She had gotten on extremely well with Zelda and the havoc that they wrecked made everyone in the house chuckle.

Above all, you had become extremely close to Sabrina. You weren’t sure of what it was about the child, but she stuck to you like glue and you were happy to have her around you. She provided a distraction for the odd dynamic between you and Ambrose and for that, you would always be grateful.

You and Ambrose talked a little but often were not left together alone, by alone you meant without Sabrina or the aunties. It was sort of bittersweet when you left. You had filled 4 notebooks during the duration of your stay with all sorts of ramblings that you were ready to look over properly when you got to your other home.

You had promised to visit at last once a year to watch Sabrina grow up. Now that you had already come back, the thought of visiting again, of seeing him again seemed less daunting.

The years went by as normal, or at least somewhat normal. You visited your friends and your sister and Sabrina as often as you could. She knew you as auntie pumpkin for the first couple of years thanks to Ambrose and then shorted to pumpkin until she was 9 where she started to call you by your actual name. That year also was a weird time for you. Although you and Ambrose were okay, or at least friends there seemed to be something lurking beneath the surface.

The day started off as normal, you were due to leave and go back to central America a week later. You had gone to his room in the attic and for some reason decided not to knock. Both aunties and Sabrina were out. You had a book in one hand and the doorknob in the other. What you were going to do was ask whether he wanted to drink some tea and maybe watch a movie or something but instead, you got the sight of him with a wooden box in his hands, eyes towards the ceiling and a thoughtful look on his face.

His eyes widened the minute he registered that you were there, but he made no rush to hide the box on his lap. “Y/N.” He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more than your name and instead opted to wait for your response.

“Ambrose, why do you still have that.” Your voice was soft, shy even. The music that was playing on some antique record player you had given him filling the silence.

“I don’t know.” The answer was raw and soft. It had been the most truthful thing he had told you in a while. You had refrained from talking about your feelings and him, his. The conversation felt wrong, something was going to happen, and you would regret it. Everything seemed to scream at you to close the door and leave him be, you aren’t sure why, but you went in and closed the door behind you.

Your breathing seemed to get deeper, and you chewed on your bottom lip. “Why didn’t you ever give me that, when we were together. I mean you tried to once, just after your sentence but why didn’t you try again. For years.” He was still unable to meet your gaze.

It was in this moment that you wished the aunties would come back, or Sabrina or Selene was with you. Anything to stop this moment. You decided you didn’t want to know his answer, except you did. Maybe his answer would make everything make sense. Maybe this line you stayed clear of could disappear. Maybe the two of you would be okay, if for a moment.

“I felt like I didn’t deserve you. That I never did. That I still don’t. If you weren’t tied to me, you would find someone who deserved you.” The air was thick, he seemed to feel it too but didn’t say anything. Or do anything for that matter. You were both too afraid to move towards each other, why, you didn’t know yet.

“I don’t know why you would ever think that. I loved you.” You said that as firmly as you could, but it came across a little shaky.

“Loved?” You took a step towards his bed, the tension thick in the air. There wasn’t a point in lying now. You know he knew; you couldn’t hide it.

“No. No, not really. I love you. I thought it would be easier to pretend I don’t feel anything but it’s still there. It’s still there. I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.” You took another step forward, it was dangerous. You couldn’t go back now. You were too close. It was like you could feel his own body heat. Neither of you knew what to do from here, this was uncharted territory. Long past that line, you tried to avoid.

You stole a look at the box in his left hand. The wood seemed like it was recently carved. Like he had taken good care of it. Because of this, you missed the flash of emotion on his face. The small curve of his mouth and then the sudden furrow of his eyebrows.

You had moved forward; this was something you wanted right. He stood up, slowly, testing. It was bad and he tried hard to stop himself. You both were in front of each other now, if you or he moved any closer, that would be it. You didn’t want to look at him in the eyes, so you made the mistake of looking at his lips instead.

“I love you too.” He had tipped the scales. You weren’t sure whether it was you or him that moved first but the two of you kissed, passionately but not quite desperately. It was testing, would one of you pull away. Did either of you want this?

Hands moved in a flurry, not quite pulling on clothes but deciding where to place themselves. Your head was fuzzy, and you weren’t sure why. You only knew that this is what you wanted, and that consequences and feelings could be a problem for a later time.

He pulled away first, looking at you in the eye. He was afraid that if he said anything it would ruin the moment. You answered his silent question with a tug of his shirt, he let out a breath and returned the favour. A hand traced shapes on his skin as your mouths explored each other. It was gentle, careful and calculated. Your head only cleared up a little when he moved from your lips to your neck making you moan quietly. The sound of your voice seemed to make him pause. He was asking again, and you answered again, a hand moving to the waistband of his trousers.

It must have been a minute before the two of you were completely bare to each other. His hand went further down your chest and back, exploring the curve of your breasts and ass before moving to your outer thigh. His right hand drew small circled there until he paused again to take a breath. You wanted to believe that this was wrong, but you couldn’t, your brain wouldn’t let you. It felt right, normal like this was meant to be. You chalked it up to fate that you chose that exact moment you decided to walk in when he was willing to share when you were willing to share.

He moved so that you had your back to the mattress and pushed you down gently. His mouth moved past your neck and he nibbled on each of your breasts. Your nipples were already hard, so he spent little time there, leaving a trail of opened mouth kisses down your stomach eventually getting to your thighs.

His left hand gently groped your breast and you laid your head back, completely engrossed in the moment. He kissed up both of your thighs and nibbled gently until you let out a soft whine, shifting your legs a little. His left hand left your breast and instead joined the other on your legs to hold them down. He stopped for a moment and looked up at you, you looked down at him and gave him an encouraging smile.

You felt his hot breath against the insides of your thighs for a second until you feel is tongue meet your clit. The pressure was perfect, he knew exactly how it worked with you, that seemed to be one thing that didn’t change. He started off with kitten licks, eventually his tongue moving to small circles around your clit. The rhythm matched that of his thumbs against your thighs. It was perfect. The air just seemed to get hotter and hotter the more worked up you got.

He licked a long line from your entrance to your clit and the sensation of his mouth was replaced by his thumb which had moved from your thigh to your clit. The circles were small and slow, but it had your leg twitching, you were close to bucking upwards for some sort of relief. He seemed to sense this, and two fingers entered you. It was slick and his pumping had you gasping, what was previous quiet moans and groans was replaced by the sound of extremely heavy breathing. You were trying hard not to lose yourself, but it was near impossible with how good that felt.

You let this continue for a moment, he was focussed, and it felt so good, he knew all the right angles and pace. He knew your body probably better than you did. He looked almost determined, you thought at first to make you cum but that seemed too obvious, then his face would have a lazy smirk and he wouldn’t look at you. His gaze was instead intense, watching every movement of your body. Your hand moved from your side and stopped him.

You pulled his fingers towards you and sucked lightly on them, swirling your tongue and pulling them out with a soft pop. He seemed mesmerised by your action. You sat up slightly and shuffled backwards, pulling him towards you. He waited for a moment, you weren’t sure what for, you practically whimpered a soft “please” looking at him straight in the eye. Your eyes were wide, innocent like there weren’t issue with what was happening. Both yours and his pupils were blown, whatever colour they previously had replaced with black.

He traced your lip with his thumb and then kissed you hard, entering you at the same time. You both groaned, louder than expected but at that point, you didn’t care. For whatever reason, you were holding back didn’t matter anymore. It was done, it was happening there was no reason to stop. You didn’t want to say no and deep down you knew that at any point if this had happened at any point before now you would have let it.

Everything was hot and sweet and blurry, you weren’t sure if it was the feeling of him on top of you, the hand on your thigh, the other caressing whatever skin it touched, the feeling of his lips or the way he felt in you. Maybe it was all of that, but it felt perfect, you weren’t supposed to be anywhere else at that moment. This was supposed to happen. Any reservations you had were completely thrown out the window at this point as one hand moved from the back of his neck to where his shoulder met his back. With the way, you were squeezing there was no way that you wouldn’t see red crescents for days.

Your other hand went between your legs, the moment your fingers met your clit your head tipped back. That was it, everything was perfect, the coil in your stomach tightened quicker than you anticipated, you slowing down the pace of your fingers but his thrusts were the same. His breathing got quicker at that point, thrusts more erratic, his head bent down, so his mouth was at your ear. “Go on pumpkin, I know you want to,” You let out a deep drawn out moan just as his thrusts got sloppy, he let out a similar groan and then stills pushing himself away and settling next to you. “You’re so perfect.” You chose not to respond to that.

Neither of your heads was clear enough to have the conversation that needed to happen, that was about to happen. If there was a way to make this moment not end, then you wouldn’t let it. “I don’t know what to say.” That statement was truthful enough.

“Neither do I.” He couldn’t look at you. You got up pretty suddenly. Nobody was home so you went to the closest bathroom as you were. You cleaned up and sat on the toilet for a moment. The image of you in the mirror seemed to sober you up. You had seen this you before but instead of a loving and satisfying feeling, you were unsure. You didn’t know where to go from here, you didn’t regret it, but you also didn’t welcome whatever happened, whatever you were feeling. As unsure as you felt, you had the feeling that it was supposed to happen, it was fate or the result of longing.

You came back and threw a washcloth at him, deciding not to move any closer. He mumbled a “thanks,” but like you had no clue where to go from here.

“What does that mean, for us.” You felt brave up until you finished, then the question seemed stupid.

“I’m not sure. You could stay, for now.” The invitation was closed off, he hoped you would say no. It would be too awkward.

“I don’t think that a good idea Ambrose. You broke up with me. I didn’t willingly let you go.” Your ton wasn’t supposed to be as soft or sad as it sounded but your previous activities had completely killed your façade for the moment.

“I know.” He didn’t say anything more than that and turned away from you. His mind was screaming at him to say something, to explain, but he didn’t know how to phrase anything or what to say so he let you leave. He let you walk out the door again.

He decided that he was going to explain something, his actions seemed so dumb after everything. Everything he told himself about him not being good enough, about you losing your freedom seemed like complete bullshit now. He was wrong, he was so wrong. He couldn’t change anything now, but he could change what happened. He made the decision to talk to you at some point but with his mind, completely gone sleep came to him too quickly. He, therefore, missed your knock on the door, the subsequent letter you left on the bed and the soft kiss to his forehead. You were gone, again, before he had even opened his eyes. You hadn’t taken the box with you, deciding to leave it under your letter.

It took him a day after you left to read the letter. He tried to bring himself to, but it was a lot more difficult, he couldn’t help but feel that there was an ending of sorts inside of it. He was right in that aspect, his indecisiveness, indecision, it was too late for him.

Dear Ambrose,

  I’ll keep this short because I’ll say too much if I go on. I know this won’t be the end for us we seem to always find our way back to each other. Life is long and we always seem to be subject to coincidence and fate. I’m happy, now. Not that I wasn’t before, I am happy, being independent, visiting being a part of your life. Us teetering on this line that we just crossed it's not good. Not if you still have doubts, not if you don’t want me completely. I can’t find myself again, my place in the world if we try again and it doesn’t work. Once was enough for me, maybe I’m scared, well I am scared but I have to protect myself. That’s what I’m doing. I love you and I always will and that’s why I need to keep a distance, I’ve too long inhibited you from being happy and I can’t do that to you anymore. You thought the problem was you and your sentence and my want to travel but it was me, I wasn’t enough, and I won’t be. You deserve anything that makes you happy and I know now that, that isn’t me. I want you to remember me fondly, remember all the happy moments and just that. I want you to forget the longing, I want you to forget the mistakes. I was selfish and it cost me the best thing that ever happened to me. I should have stayed but I don’t get the chance to make that decision anymore. I want you to be able to find something that is enough, and I want you to feel like you deserve it. I will always love you, also, you should throw away the box, there’s no space for it in our lives now.

Yours truly,

Y/N

 He read it over three times and threw it straight into the fire. It was clear he was wrong, all those years ago. He was still wrong to not say anything now and now its too late. He told himself you would be better without him and threw the box into the fire as well. The flames were a bright red and he watched it, sat there until the flames fell to a soft yellow. It was an ending to something.

#ambrose spellman #ambrose spellman x reader #ambrose spellman imagine #caos imagine

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

[Untitled] [Solas & Lavellan]

For @buttsonthebeach and @dadrunkwriting

Tags/Tw: blood, injury, graphic injury, major character death, harm to Solas, post-Trespasser

Words: 2.6k

Rating: Mature

===

“Hahren.”

Elara’s voice is clear, if tired–and far too close. Solas turns and slips, falls to his knees in the mingled mud and gore of the battlefield. Fire ratchets up his wounded leg, a bespelled arrowhead still embedded deep into his thigh from an earlier injury. It festers without his permission and pays his objection–and spells–no mind.

“Solas, it’s time for this all to stop.”

“Is it, Inquisitor?”

He bows with exhaustion over his knees, hand straying to the wound. A myriad of others pepper his skin–a crossbow bolt that grazed his shoulder and tore off the pauldron on its way, a bloody gash across his cheek where a lucky knife had struck. Solas can count four broken ribs on one side alone and knows the ligaments in his left knee have been torn beyond repair. His vision swims without focus in a way that only heralds head injury. 

He takes an aching breath in and breathes out a healing spell whose cool mana plays over his skin to little effect. The only thing he can do now is to ignore the injuries, to focus on anything else.

She comes, sword in hand. Her vallaslin glows an unearthly green-gold from her face, the light straying down her throat. Elara bears the evidence of heavy battle; her flesh arm runs red from the elbow, blood seeping through the seams of her vambrace and gauntlet to drip down her fingers. Her chest-plate is covered in dents and abrasions beneath the mud and viscera that clings to the metal. Elara tears off her helmet and tosses it between them. Her hair, matted with blood, sticks sickly down her brow and cheek. Solas can smell death on her, following her footsteps.

Elara stops before him, a scant thirty feet separating them.

“Hahren,” Elara says again, and only this time does he hear her desperation.

Ichor drips from her sword’s fine edge. Falon’din’s grace wreathes through her aura; the geas has seeped into her skin like a puppet’s strings pulled by an invisible hand. Solas has no doubt that it is Falon’din’s compulsion that propels her forward with jerky, halting steps.

“Elara.” Her name falls from his lips on a sigh. “We’re too late, I’m afraid.” Solas sweeps his gaze toward the heavens; the scars of the Veil are hardly visible here, on this no-name plain in some human empire, but they’re there. Solas can feel them in the way his heart beats erratically in his chest, in the way his shoulders are the lightest they’ve been in thousands of years. 

The Veil has fallen. The freed Fade permeates every rock and tree and creature of this world anew, casting the old world aside.  

Solas coughs, covering his mouth with belated politeness, and is unsurprised when his palm comes back stained an angry, wrathful red.

“You can stop this.” 

She always believed in him, despite the coolness that grew between them, verging on distrust. Elara had trusted him, once, tentative and wary. Solas barks out a wheezing flash of laughter. What good had it done either of them?

“I don’t think I can,” he murmurs. “Though I will admit to wishing for just that.”

She’s closer now, an arm’s length, maybe two, away. Elara’s hand is clutched tight around the hilt of her ironbark sword. Her arms shake–all of her shakes. Solas can briefly see the child panicking beneath her stoic, blank-faced mask.

Something in him folds like leaves in a storm and Solas buckles, an intangible gale battering against him to rend him immobile.

“Calm, now, Fen’Harel,” Elara says, but it is not her voice, they are not her words. “The time for reaping is at hand.”

His eyes shut for but a moment. “Lethanivir.” Solas huffs, and everything in him aches. He would not be surprised if he were actively consumed by an invisible fire; every inch of him burns from the inside out. “It’s been some time. Tell me, how is life in the Blackened City?”

Falon’din’s smile curves across Elara’s face, sinister despite her own warmth. It’s gentler here, on mortal lips. “She trusted you, you know,” Falon’din says casually, “in the beginning. But you never warmed to her, not as you did to the others, even as you stuck by her side.” 

He closes the distance and crouches at Solas’ flank, the creak of Elara’s armor barely heard above the din of the fighting around them. He drops her sword to the ground without a care. The way he tilts their head is so quintessentially him, but the motion is foreign, alien on Elara’s frame. It’s jarring in the worst ways.

“That’s simply the way of it, isn’t it?” Falon’din sighs, brows pinched with feigned concern. “Who could trust the Dread Wolf? You never were a good friend, Pride. Not before, and not now.”

“If being such meant allowing the continued subjugation of our people, then no,” Solas wheezes. “I am glad to have never been a good friend.”

Falon’din only regards him, Elara’s dark eyes glowing with the same green-gold of Falon’din’s magic. Their mouth twists. “We could have had it all,” Falon’din says lowly. His gaze softens. He brushes their fingers errantly over the torn edges of what remains of Solas’ blood-streaked fur mantle. “We were meant to rule. We still can, the two of us,” he says, like a secret, like an oath.

In his peripheral vision, Solas sees the ocean-blue glow of power at his fingertips. “That we did was an accident of fate, nothing more,” he grits out. His voice booms through the plain. “No one desiring power deserves it–us least of all.”

“The great and powerful Fen’Harel, so self-loathing.” Falon’din’s lip curls with disgust and he pulls away. “You were created to rule. You are a God, called to this world to lead. Come, Pride, rise from the muck. We will take our rightful places, you and I. Think of what we could do together.”

Solas shakes his head. “You know I cannot.” He looks up to Elara’s face, the mortal mask of his immortal kin. “Is she still there?” he asks. “The Inquisitor?”

They smirk, sick and thin. “She is,” Falon’din says with a gleeful nod. He flexes their fingers and studies their hand with exaggerated fascination. “This one is mine, completely.”

“She didn’t know what it meant when she chose your sigil, Reaper–you could have been any of us. Your being here is an accident, not an act of fate.”

“And the results would have been the same, would they not? You still would have cast down your precious Veil, and we still would strike the moment you sundered the chains you had wrought. No matter whose symbol this one wears, she will always be your doom.” Falon’din pauses. “You always did have a soft spot for the broken ones, but you rarely broke your own toys.” He flicks the fingers of their prosthetic hand idly.

Solas snorts, and Falon’din’s smile slips. “You know what happens next,” Solas says. His blood pulses with magic and the immortal poison that corrupts it as he struggles to his knees. “I killed your last avatar. I will destroy this one, as well.”

“You always did like wrecking my things.” Falon’din sighs, heavy and put-upon. He shrugs their shoulders. “But I think, dear Wolf, that this time will be different. Even now, even with the Mother’s grace, you wane–and when you finally fall, I shall be the one to take you.”

Falon’din’s magic flutters erratically around Elara’s frame, just out of mortal sight, and Solas sharpens his gaze on her face, past the veneer of the god that wears her visage. “Elara,” he says, quickly. “You are Elara Virenehn, of clan Lavellan. You are Lavellan’s knight. You are–you are the pride of your people. You must remember.”

Their aura lights in bursts of magic. “What–what are you doing?”

Solas leans forward, reaching for her, hands scrabbling at Elara’s vambrace and the enchanted prosthetic that rebuilt her left arm–the hand he had to take, the hand he had unwittingly poisoned with his plans, her hand the symbol of his continued failure. 

He can’t give her much, but he must try. 

“Remember your clan. The lessons of your Keeper. You can fight him, Elara. You must.”

Their hands spasm. Their flesh arm twitches, clenches, as if pulling against an unseen force. Sweat begins to bead along their shared brow. 

“Good,” Solas whispers. “You’re strong. Remember that, Elara–you are strong, stronger than most. You must close your mind to him. He is but a spirit, twisted by his delusions of godhood.”

Falon’din screeches. Their sword-hand opens, agonizing in the slow-motion movement, and he stretches to reach Elara’s discarded sword. “She is mine, Pride! You will not take her!” 

Solas grits his teeth, hands sinking into the edges of Elara’s vambrace to hold her back, but Falon’din shoves him back with a backlash of magic, strong enough to bring Solas to his knees in the muck.

With a pained, drawn-out groan, Falon’din drives their hand to the earth and finds purchase around the leather-wrapped handle of her sword. He rises to their knees clumsily, as if fighting for every inch. The oppressive compulsion for stillness temporarily lifted, Solas comes to his feet with a clatter of his own armor.

“My friend,” Solas whispers. Falon’din fights for control beneath his gaze, rising to their feet, hand gripped so tight around the handle of Elara’s sword that it bleeds. Solas trails his fingers over Elara’s temples, fingers glowing with the weight of the spell that would break her bindings.

His mouth has barely shaped the first syllable of the blessing when the sword drags through his armor to pierce him. It digs into his ribcage as it passes.

“Pride,” Falon’din pants. Sweat drips freely down their face, clinging to Elara’s dark lashes, drawing clear tracks in the dirt that mars their cheeks. “You always thought–ngk–that you had the upper–upper hand.”

Solas’ hands flutter. He reaches deep within himself as blood wells in his mouth. Mythal’s grace lay dormant in his chest; she was the better healer of the two of them, and her storm-tossed ocean of power is as calm as a dead sea where it beat in time with his own heart just a moment before.

But, as loathe as he is to claim it, Fen’Harel is his own god.

His dwindled power courses through him, a wellspring quickly running dry as it races to pour out from his fingers. The world falls away and still, with trembling lips, he shapes the spell. Solas brushes the holy fire over Elara’s face, tracing the brand that tethers her to the fallen Evanuris, and watches as the thick, black lines of her vallaslin begin to evaporate into smoke. The scream that tears from her throat is a deafening, multilayered chorus.

Her poisoned blade rips through Solas’ gut as Falon’din flails in his attempts to escape.

Solas fights to keep his hands on her, scrabbles for every point of contact. It’s not complete, not yet. If any mark of her brand remains she could stay tied to the god for as long as he wishes, unable to counter his commands. Solas repeats the blessing and wrings more of himself out with the spell even as his blood falls freely to color the earth beneath them.

Falon’din’s shrieks echo over the land and buffet against Solas and his magic like a great storm. He kicks and punches and slaps at whatever he can reach with Elara’s hands, leaving her blood upon the dirty, worn metal of Solas’ armor.

Solas dips his hands along the column of her throat, the little of it that lay exposed by her armor. He’s close, he knows; Elara’s vallaslin drips from her brow to her collarbones, and it’s almost burnt from her face. Solas grunts when Falon’din pulls the sword out only to slice into him again, and again, the enchanted ironbark bolstered further by Falon’din’s magic.

Solas falters. Falon’din’s compulsion sweeps over him once more, demanding his submission. It floods his mind and bears down enough to break his concentration, and in his fumbling, Falon’din stabs him once more.

“If you will not yield, Pride,” Falon’din pants, “I will tear out your heart and scatter your form to the winds. I will rend your power from your bones!”

“No–nnnng–need.” Solas grips Elara’s shoulders and pulls himself up the blade of her sword. There’s not much left–he must be quick, he must–he must—

Solas curls himself into her in a mockery of a lover’s embrace and lets the spell burn through him. Holy fire courses through every cell of his being; it scalds like the lava fires of the Deep Roads, bursting from his chest. Falon’din screams in his ear.

The world whites out, and Falon’din’s voice fades.

=

“Solas. Hahren, Solas, please. Wake up, please wake up.”

He wavers in and out. The Fade colors the edges of his vision when he blinks his eyes open. Elara hovers over him, her face blotting out the sky.

Elara is free of the vallaslin. She is bloody and torn, but she is free.

“Inquis—” A wracking cough interrupts him; his hand comes back covered with blood and spittle.

She shifts where she kneels beside him. “Don’t talk. By the— Don’t talk.”

“There is… so much… to say.”

“No,” Elara says. Panic rises in her voice. “Stay, please. You’re a god, one of the Creators.” She traces her fingertips over the mangled wolf’s head on his chestplate; he watches her expression morph to dismayed grief when they are stained red with his blood. “You–you can heal yourself.”

“Too powerful, Lethanivir… But not for you.” Solas chuckles weakly. “Surprised me again.”

Elara keens and bends forward, covering him with a curtain of dark curls. “I have to save you. I have to. If I cannot fulfill my duty to my people, then what good am I?”

“That path… leads to destruction. I… should know.” He coughs and something in him snaps. Solas sags, boneless, into the biting edges of his mangled armor. It will be soon, he knows. Will the Fade recognize him in his true form? Will he be remembered?

“What happens now?” Her voice lies muffled against his armor. “If the gods aren’t truly gods, then where do we go? What happens when we die?”

“I am not sure,” Solas admits, “but… I go knowing you are here… and that is enough.”

“Solas—”

“Pride of the Elvhenan. Elara of the Dalish.” His laugh is barely a stuttered breath. “I had broken our people… and you brought them together… once more… to fight me.”

“To save the world,” she says fiercely. Elara mutters under her breath, a prayer or curse or both, her voice shaking. “Solas… He called you Pride…”

“Yes.”

“Does… Does that mean you were a spirit of wisdom once, or of pride? In the days of Arlathan?”

“The distinction… is not so simple,” he grits out. “Pride and wisdom… friend and enemy… many are both and–and neither.” His vision swims, and he closes his eyes with a sigh. “Before, when the Song… was everywhere… the Mother called me. She gave me gifts… asked for my counsel.” Blood foams at the corner of his mouth and drips down his chin.  

Elara’s hand is blazing hot against the cold of his cheeks. “I forbid it, Solas,” she says, the long-dormant authority strong as silverite in her words. Her tone offers no argument but her own. “You must stay. I order you to stay, Creator or not. You bound yourself to my Inquisition.”

And see where it got us, he thinks, chuckling inwardly. “Don’t cry, lethallin,” he says, though he’s not sure it comes out as such. “Spirits are… never truly gone.”

The green of the Fade spins merrily in his mind’s eye, and he can feel the Song flooding over his skin, sinking into his bones with a soothing familiarity.

“Ar lasa mala revas,” Elara whispers. “Be free, Solas.”

Ma serannas, Elara, Pride of the People. Solas sighs and lets the Song lull him to sleep.

#Solas #Lavellan #Solas & Lavellan #not shippy #Elara Lavellan #series: Lavellan's Knight #post-game #post-trespasser #fen'harel #falon'din #cw: blood #cw: injury #cw: major character death

[vertigoseokjin]

(Not) Meant to Be

Requested: Because I love your work and the way you have with words. Requesting angst for jk. like y/n falls in love with him (or vice versa) and then slowly realizes that they're not really in love but just with the idea of love and who they thought the other was @moonchild-love-letter (sorry this took so long!) 

A loud shriek echoes through the almost empty house. The scream makes Jungkook jump up in fear.

It sounded a lot like you.

His mind couldn't help but to jump to the worst possible situation. You could be hurt, you could need help, but he couldn't force himself to move.

However, his mind was put to rest as laughing quickly follows. Not your laughing, but if Hoseok finds a situation funny there's probably nothing to be too concerned about. Jungkook finally gets himself to stand and follow the source of all the noise, but he doesn't have to get too far.

He opens the door to his room to see Hoseok sprinting down the hallway, holding your phone above his head, and you not too far behind.

"HOSEOK STOP!" While Hoseok's having the time of his life, you look like you're near tears.

"What's going on?" Jungkook finally asks, stepping outside of his room.

"Jungkook I have to show you som-" Hoseok's words are muffled when you finally catch up to him and cover his mouth with your hand, trying to grab your phone back.

"No he doesn't Kookie! Just go back to your room!" His head tilts in confusion, but doesn't feel too bothered to question what's happening as he's always surrounded by strange people doing strange things. You squeak in pain when Hoseok's teeth clamp down on your palm. You quickly slap him on the back of his head with the same hand. "Give me my phone!" He holds it teasingly over your head.

"Jungkook, read this!" He finally hands the phone to him.

"Kookie please don'-" you start to beg, but it's too late. His eyes scan across the words on the screen.

[you]

i think i rly like jungkook

His heart stops beating at the message you sent to his hyung.

Hoseok has a large smile covering his face but you've never looked more humiliated in your life.

"...y/n, I'm sorry but-" Hoseok's face falls with Jungkook's words, and you're already mentally preparing yourself for rejection "I asked Yebin out, yesterday actually." A tense silence fills the entire house. You were definitely expecting it, but it doesn't stop you from feeling like your heart was shattering.  

"Oh! Kookie I'm so happy for you!" You feign excitement, but part of you actually feeling happy for your best friend. "Why didn't you tell me?" You force a smile on your face, trying your best to act like he didn't just find out about your long term crush on him.

"Uh, I guess it just happened really quick and... I don't know." He shifts awkwardly, Hoseok feeling the worst in the situation.

Luckily, the three of you are saved when the door opens.

"We got food!" Seokjin's voice breaks the tension.

"Let's go eat!" You try to sound as cheerful as possible. You bounce away, running away from the situation as quick as possible.

"Jungkook what the hell." Hoseok sternly questions him. "You've been in love with y/n since grade school."

"I thought she didn't like me! That she'd never like me! Jimin hyung said I should move on if-"

"This is why you don't listen to Jimin!" Hoseok exclaims in frustration. "I told you thousands of times y/n loves you as much - if not more - than you do her, and you still listen to Jimin?" Hoseok's talking so loudly Jungkook is concerned that you're going to hear everything, but he can't quiet him down. He's right.

"I'm sorry hyung but Yebin and I both admitted our feelings for each other and... I don't know. It just happened." Hoseok sighs at his words, finally calming down.

"Fine, I get it. You're not totally wrong. You can't control your feelings. But y/n..."  Hoseok trails off.

"In my defense none of this would've happened if you didn't take her ph-" he isn't able to finish before Hoseok slaps the back of his head so hard the only thing he can hear is ringing in his ears.

"Fix this."

Jungkook lies flat on his back on his bed as he thinks about you.

You.

The person he had a crush on for the last however many years. He can't think of a time where he didn't like you.

But time does has a funny way of screwing him over. If Hoseok stole your phone three days earlier, he would be happy with you. He's still very much happy with Yebin, but he can't help but regret his confession to her with the new evidence of you being in love with him.

He smushes a pillow over his face and screams his heart out.

Now what does he do.

___________________________________

[you]

we need to talk

[you]

today

[you]

im coming over

You and Jungkook have managed to maintain your silent strike for the last two weeks, which according to your records, is the longest you've ever went without talking.

It was mainly your fault though. Jungkook and all the other boys have been constantly inviting you over or just to hang out, but you couldn't bring yourself to see him yet.

However, after organizing your thoughts, you realized that as adults it's best to sit down and talk about your relationship, or lack of one.

Your mind is going at a mile a minute as you approach the boys' apartment.

After slowly knocking, the door is immediately thrown open.

"Hey." Jungkook tries to sound casual. But since you know him so well, there's no doubt in your mind he was waiting for you right next to the door.

"Hi." You shove past him and lay down on the couch, putting your feet up as soon as you remove your shoes.

Jungkook walks towards your direction, gently lifting up your head and placing it back on his leg after he sits down. You two sit in silence for a little when he starts playing with your hair. Everything about the interaction seems so normal, but neither of you could ignore the tension in the air.

"So..." you trail off, not wanting to start the conversation. "Where are the others?"

"I told them to get out." You can't tell if he's kidding or not, but you don't have time to question him before he starts talking again. "Can we just start this talk? I've had something planned out for a while." You feel him shift while he's pulling a slip of paper out his pocket.

"Did you really take notes?" Your brows furrow in confusion.

"I didn't want to forget what I had to say. Anyway, I have about a paragraph's length of things to say and don't interrupt me till after, deal?" You nod slowly, getting up to face him. "Okay. Ready?" The warning was more for himself. "Okay. Y/n. I like you." There's a pause as he fumbles with the paper. "Wait I wasn't supposed to start with th- should I just go with it?" You nod slowly, still in shock with the revelation. "I'm gonna put the paper away." He mumbles, shoving it in his pocket again. "Anyway, I like you. I've liked you since that time you made me eat dirt in kindergarten because I cut half of your ponytail off. I liked you before that, actually, which is why I cut off your hair... which probably wasn't the best way to express a crush, right?"

"No. It wasn't"

"Yeah, I thought so. Moving on, Hoseok hyung has been telling me for the last year you like me because I told him earlier I liked you. He was trying since then to get me to ask you out, but I could never bring myself to do it. I always got too scared. I never in a million years would think you would like me. And I do have feelings for Yebin, but they were never the same that I felt with you. So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I do love you and I'm sorry." You took a deep breath at all the new information.

He likes you?

"Kookie... I don't know how to respond." You chuckle. "Wow, I guess is all I can say. I know I should be happier because I think I've liked you as long as you've liked me but... you're with Yebin now." He plays with his fingers, so you force yourself to keep talking. "Are you happy with her?"

"Yes." He answers a little disappointingly.

"I'm happy you're happy. We're still best friends?" You question him.

"Of course!" He's a little frantic with his response.

"Then that's that. Maybe it's best for us to stay best friends. This is probably fate saying we shouldn't be together." You joke. "Can we move past this?" Jungkook is a little surprised with how mature you're acting. He never realized how much you two grew together. He stares into your eyes as you keep talking, but eventually his eyes trail to your lips. He can't comprehend what you're saying, but he decides to act on impulse.

Jungkook grabs the back of your neck and leans in slowly. You can't stop the gasp and let your eyes flutter shut at your close proximity.

It's finally happening. It's finally happening. It's-

Wait.

Your eyes shoot open in realization and you shove him away, jumping up from the couch. You practically fly to the front door.

"You have a girlfriend." You firmly state, still keeping a large distance between you two.

"I know, but-"

"And you just said you're happy with her."

"I know, y/n, I ju-"

"So why are you here trying to kiss me right now?" He scratches the back of his head, in obvious turmoil.

"You're right, I really like her, but I really like you too." His words cause you to feel even more angry.

"Too? Jungkook, this isn't a game. This is your relationship. Our relationship. We just talked, I thought we could handle this like grownups. You can't be with both of us and I'm not going to be the reason you guys break up." You can tell Jungkook is struggling with how to respond and how to feel, but you're trying to distance from him.

"I'm sorry." He responds quietly, his eyes are glued the floor and you can't help but give him sympathy. You walk over and give him a tight hug.

"I get it. Feelings are hard." You rest your chin on his chest to meet his eyes, which you're surprised to see are filled with tears. "But I do not and will never promote infidelity." He cracks a little smile at your statement.

"Do you hate me?" He sounds like a child and you almost burst out in tears with him.

"Kookie, I could never hate you. You're always going to be my best friend." Your words cause him to smile slightly. Despite your words, you still pull away and start collecting your things.

"You're leaving?" The sadness has been replaced by a frantic tone, scared of losing you forever.

"Just for tonight. I think we need a little time apart right now, okay? Call Yebin over." Jungkook nods in understanding, walking you to the door.

"We're still friends?" You nod immediately.

"I still love you Jungkook."

He's finally able to show you a full teeth smile before pulling you in another hug. Jungkook kisses the top of your head lightly, like normal, and sends you on your way with a little "I love you too".

You share one last smile before you leave his house, finally able to feel content with the nature of your relationship with him.

Unfortunately, Jungkook can't exactly say the same. He sighs, sliding down the floor next to the door, but still calls his girlfriend and asks her to come over anyway.

Even with the confirmation of seeing his girlfriend soon, his heart still aches.

Jungkook knows he needs to let you go, but the question is how.

gif cred @jjks

#bts #bts imagines #bts angst #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #kim taehyung #park jimin #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim seokjin #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook angst imagine #jeon jungkook fluff imagine #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook angst

[gentleroads]

The Sun, The Moon, and The Ocean

Story: The Seven Heirs of Ophaesia

Rating: Mature, for suggestive scenes & euphemisms

Word count: 4,690

Disclaimer: Most of @fantasyfawkes’ story canon might be heavily skewed to fit narrative purposes. Motives are ambiguous at best. All recognizable elements belong to Bee! Only Selinys is my heirsona for the game :’)

(Poem used is by Nancy Boutilier, “On the Eighth Day Adam Slept Alone: New Poems”)

For @manghhos, who asked me to indulge the both of us months back. Thank you, always, for your support!! <333

-

You meet him when you’re seven and he’s eight.

According to your servants, it was his own suggestion to come meet you. He was curious, they insisted, to meet the princess so close in age to him. You held little hope he wouldn’t share the same thoughts as the other noble children and decide he enjoyed your presence best in your absence.

But maybe this boy would be kinder. Maybe you would get along. He chose your company; this difference was encouraging. Something small in you wishes you would even end up liking each other.

On the day of his arrival, the parlor is decorated with little cakes and several of your favorite books at the ready. The storybook in your lap enthralls you—the gilded leaves delicate in your small hands, vivid paints and promises of heroism, its cover a green so rich it matches your eyes—so much so you jolt when the door opens, and nearly drop it in your haste to rise and meet your guest.

Vesperion Verathae is nothing more than a wisp of a boy, pale and lean with lion hair. He towers over you, as everyone does, and barely bothers with a pleasant pretense before dropping it completely.

“Princess Selinys,” he greets. “I see the rumors about you aren’t true at all. You might not, in fact, be the greatest mockery of Ophaesia.” He grins, forked tongue flicking out. “No; you are somehow much worse.”

Within mere seconds, you have nearly forgotten all seven years of the etiquette training Sister Elesyth had impressed upon you. This boy has hardly stepped foot in the room. He has hardly even looked at you. It is a powerful effort to ignore his rise and execute a curtsy.

Unimpressed, his features twist from boy to beast, reminding you of the villains in the fairytales you regularly devour. The beast wastes no time on returning a bow, sweeping out as quickly as he swept in. Once the doors click shut, however, you allow yourself to glower. But sadness briefly floods in, heavy and wet, before the strength of anger overrules it. Why had you expected anything different this time?

Forget liking him. You call him a monster.

–

When you later tell your mother about meeting Vesperion, you expect her to defend you like she had done against your king-father. Instead, she stiffens up—her mouth a straight line—before her gaze turns sympathetic.

“He’s hurt,” your mother explains too calmly. “He lost his aunt a few years ago and hasn’t yet recovered from it. You didn’t do anything wrong, my darling. People react to hurt in their own ways.”

But you’re hurt too. You had only met him today—you did nothing wrong. 

Or so you believed. The lack of reproach in her voice hollows out a hole in your belly, fosters a tightness in your throat you struggle to swallow past. She mentioned he had lost his aunt.

If your mother also quietly warns against meeting him again, you haven’t been listening.

—

Her words echo in your mind like a nearly dried well: if you were lost, where would you want to be found?

You gingerly trace a finger over the deep ink of the Southern mountains. Sister Elesyth had briefly mentioned House Verathae ruling over the warmer half of Ophaesia, gentle in heat and hugged by the coast. But when you close your eyes and try to imagine something you have only heard about in story, they are no less abstract than before: salty air stinging your lungs, burying feet beneath rough sand, and crashing waves like thunder at the end of summer.

Ophaesia is so much bigger than you had first believed it to be. If Vesperion’s aunt had left the capital to remain home, then it wasn’t an impossible feat. And who could blame her for homesickness? Flowers did not bloom in places with no light.

You pick up a quill, several inkwells and parchment nearby, resolute more than ever.

–

None of the staff knew of your plans, so it’s a particular triumph when you find him on your own.

Vesperion sits beneath one of the great trees in the palace gardens, surrounded by flowers deep in bloom. He alternates between marveling at the fields and furiously scribbling into a small, leather-bound journal. A bronze lock curls above his furrowed brow and lessens his severity; he is as young as you are again. A child. Under the soft light of the tree, he no longer resembles the fearsome beast from before.

The collective perfume of countless flowers together is nearly heady enough to disorient anyone. You concentrate on keeping a firm clasp behind your back, yet can’t resist running a final, cautious hand over the scrolled parchment. When you stop just within the dark outline of the tree, the fantasy of his surely tearful apology becomes appealingly lifelike.

“There you are, Vesperion!”

He startles, peering up at you before violently shoving his book underneath his legs. You attempt a placating smile and clear your throat.

“I heard your aunt was lost,” you carefully recite. “My family can’t visit me either, but it’s an awful thing to happen. I did my best to read more about her. And your family. My books say she’s lovely, so I wanted to help you find her again.”

You reveal what you’ve been hiding: a map handmade for him with a neat, red trail from your home province to his in full view. You poke at the circle at the base of the mountains.

Here.

There is an expression on Vesperion’s face you don’t know how to describe. Is he confused by what you mean with this? Your palms sweat.

“Sister… Sister Elesyth told me the Maeliahs were powerful; w–we can help you. With their influence, I’m sure my mother will—”

Laugh. Vesperion’s head is thrown back into the trunk of the tree, sharp howls wringing from his throat.

You falter at his unexpected reaction. The map crinkles in warning as you fumble for the comfort words you had rehearsed. His laughter stops. He rises to his feet, towering over you as everybody does, and you step back instinctively, protectively, out of the cover of the tree, and feel so impossibly tiny.

“Are you daft, Your Highness? Did the Maeliahs truly influence you to keep your ignorance? No,” he snarls, anger too big for a child to contain. His golden eyes are as fierce as his words. “My aunt was Queen Alapharen, the woman your mother murdered.”

–

There had hardly been the feeling of the map being crushed in your grip, seeing red as your knuckles turned white. Though you were gawking with wide eyes, you had barely registered the flash of movement between your faces; Vesperion narrowly dodging as your fist had struck air.

Everything past that accusation, all the denials and defenses you must have screeched, is a blur as you escape to your room and land before the cold hearth. Pushing aside the firewood, you take a final look at the tattered map of Ophaesia—the very act of goodwill you labored over before he decided to blatantly lie to your face with such an awful, treasonous lie—and frown at the meticulous outline of the Verathaes’ province.

After dinner that evening, you feign a chill and quietly ask a servant to light the fireplace. They don’t notice when you stay nearby to watch an edge of the map burn bright.

–

No one told you how Alapharen was lost, exactly. By then it didn’t even matter how.

But pride would not allow you to apologize; he had still hurt you first. In your eyes, the two of you were even now. This did not mean you would try to like him again.

—

Despite what the fairytales promise, the villainous boy does not transform into a more endearing version of himself years later. Then, as if to always disagree with you, he does.

Your childhood promise must have been misheard by the heavens. For only under the exhaustion of all-evening socialization, and dancing, and just a bit of wine could confuse you the way you felt now.

From a distance, sadly, he seems almost alluring.

Although you had shared a childhood within the palace grounds, the realization that he might actually be… attractive… builds in you only now, steadily, and gives you pause beneath the ballroom lights. Glittering courtiers continue to twirl around you, whirling to a fever the band sets, but you have eyes only for the red, red tunic leaning so casually against a far wall.

Vesperion is tall and athletically built, his time on the training fields boasting success. He never failed to mock you over your characteristically Maeliah stature growing up—a surefire way to irk you when also keeping your latest novel hostage an arm’s length overhead—but at the moment the clear height difference only sends an appreciative thrill through you.

None of the other courtier boys burned gold beneath the chandelier flame, the lord you danced with earlier certainly did not, but he proved it was quite possible to do so. Through the haze, Vesperion glows.

Vesperion also leans in close to the spymaster’s son, Kyrisen, and smirks teasingly when it causes him to chuckle. It is an innocuous enough scene, merely two lords chatting, but you have lived among conspirators for too long and your eyes are too skilled to ignore the picture they detail: Vesperion’s slow tilt of the head as Kyrisen swallows wine, the latter’s shoulders angled towards his company, and both inching a hint closer than what is acceptable—socially.

Few lords and ladies do amble up to and dismiss themselves from the pair, but they all remain oblivious to what is happening right in front of them. The amorous two only grow more huddled as the event goes on, thoughtless actions becoming bolder, and soon make their disappearance from the room entirely.

Their lasting image anchors something foul within you.

Damn the backlash. You down the flute you’ve been holding all night and slip into the hallway after them. Noise still reaches where you trek, but it only adds to the gloomy atmosphere when combined with the dwindling number of courtiers. Anything beyond the ballroom never interested you enough to explore growing up, so it comes as no surprise when you ultimately lose your bearings. There are no people in this part of the palace. You are alone.

Silence normally soothes you, but this stillness feels wrong somehow, taboo. The minute lead you were following has long gone cold.

Something within you festers.

The hallway you find yourself in is beautiful and lifeless, matching the rest of the palace. An abrupt wave of dizziness racks over you and you catch yourself against a wall; you have never been able to hold your drink very well. For once, you can safely slump to the floor and lean back against what feels like a tapestry.

Many of the tapestries here appear darker than the ones decorating your siblings’ and your own rooms, and your mind lazily draws comparisons between them and the recollections in your history texts. The needleworks depict God-Touched legends in the heat of battle, divine halos illuminating fatal wounds that stain the ground.

Something within you festers.

The longer you regard the imagery, the more fanatic your daydreams become. The latest one to conjure forces you to blink away from all artwork in sudden horror as victory is claimed in war: when Vesperion’s hands, tangled in Kyrisen’s red, red curls, come away thick like blood.

You barely make it to a potted plant before you lose your dinner.

But the awful feeling, the one you cannot name, continues to linger within you for weeks afterwards.

–

When he’s with his partner, he never thinks of you. You had never thought of him before, but now you wish that were still true.

Stacks of books grow haphazardly around the floor of your private study. During one of your mother’s irregular visits, she had joked that you might have been trying to wall yourself in. You merely smiled in response.

With no distractions, you remember how to enjoy your own company uninterrupted by matters of the court. If the two lords were rarely even seen together, then that empty fact did not reach you. Textbook kingdoms of old never worried about sunlit boys, they worried for safety and prosperity. Even in your fantasies, long after their ruin, you could give that to them.

In record time, the treaties drafted are enough to leave you dizzy; even more fill the gaps of the barricade and fill yourself with your own sort of light.

Until you see him again—after the rare whispers of his partner die out into nothing—and hope strikes inside like flint to a forest floor.

—

It’s startling just how often you notice him around the palace after that; up until then you believed you hardly crossed paths. But whether in the gardens, by the kitchens, or lounging in a music room, he is there, floating around the margins like a dust mote in your vision.

He speaks easily with other nobles. It is unnerving how, even with distant tones, he is more polite than he’s ever given you the courtesy of.

Did the discovery of his beauty make you feel a right to claim him? Make you willing to believe any new discoveries to be made of him were yours to claim only? Were you as shallow as the court then to like him only on appearance? Shallow enough to ignore your families’ and your shared histories?

And how was it possible for you to have given something so much, yet so little thought?

It is thoughtless then when your feet lead you to the training fields. Even more thoughtless to find him an easy target with his flaming hair accompanying his quick footwork. Thoughtless to watch how his shirt stretches over the blades of his back and sticks to him with sweat, to have your enjoyment grow even more.

Vain Naphenia. Stubborn Naphenia.

How was it possible for you to have given someone so much thought? What would your families say?

Perhaps it was a trick of the sun, but he might’ve finally caught sight of you. He might’ve even given you a knowing look. The pleasant feeling fluttering in your gut does not discriminate, but it does prevent you from calling out to him. You duck your head as you feel your cheeks warm.

Since when have you ever paid attention to the gossip about yourself before?

–

It is easy enough to seek him out, but you are still careful to meet him without an audience. Deserted rooms and library alcoves become familiar settings, but your favorite rendezvous might always be the gardens. There you could press so closely together you’re able to catch his scent: thick like the beginning of summer, yet sweetened by the scent of grass.

There is nothing new in the way he aggravates and provokes you, in the way you insult him back, but the situation has changed. Your arguments rile the other in a different way now. Soon it becomes habit to tell him of your day and all the trials in court. He already knows of most of them. He begins to share his own, gradually, unprompted. You haven’t heard of those.

When you look at him in those moments, it is still sometimes strange to reconcile the child-villain you thought you knew with the Vesperion you learn about now.

—

“I violently disagree. Most fairytale romances lack pith.”

Vesperion skips another rock across the lake’s surface, focusing on the number of ripples he produces. It is a picturesque day late in spring, with sparse clouds and a heat that only tints the plants more vividly. Flower petals drift onto your lap where you sit underneath a tree’s cool branches.

“Not so,” you declare. “Humans lack many things, but not love. And love is best delivered through story. While some may view it as childish, rather than be limited to a single person like verse, it manages to apply itself to many others.”

You brush a few petals out of the binding of your storybook and attempt to judge his reaction. “I know it must be hard for you, but can you please try to imagine romance without the ache? Imagine a desire that ends the yearning, to end happily ever after. And it’s—it’s powerful, this emotion that drives someone to write.”

“False. I don’t need to imagine what ends the aching. Happily ever after’s a myth.” His arm whips forward and ripples stretch the lake.

“How so? I thought everyone wanted someone to like them that way.”

Another toss. He scoffs. “Is that all you want, Selinys, to merely be ‘liked’?” Toss. “Wouldn’t you rather choose to be worshipped? To be thought of religiously?” Ripple.

An old vision of his partner rears up as if bitterly summoned. “Is that how you feel when writing poetry about your beloved?”

Vesperion curses mid-fling and glances at you with a startled look. You can’t meet his eyes.

But before you can twist the knife in deeper, he marches into the shade of your tree, drops down to his knees, and crawls until his body covers yours. All thoughts of him disappear as the proximity forces your gaze and the muscles in your body freeze. Vesperion has dark lashes long enough to kiss his cheeks.

He leans in. His breath tickles your nape. The smooth purr by your ear makes the grip on your book tighten.

“‘No field, no forest, no leaf, no blade can catch the light or trap the shade; no earthly tones will ever rise to match the green enchantment of her eyes.’”

With one verse you were convinced: if all declarations were so persuasive, you were surprised any other form would be given.

You gape as he pushes back, yet stays close. There are a dozen lights shifting in his amber eyes. They were of burnished metal. Your favorite tea. Have they always been so beautiful?

In your fairytales, this would be the part where he confesses his love to the princess and they have all of forever to themselves. So when Vesperion’s mischievous expression softens, and his eyes drop to the curve of your lips, and his head tilts in a certain direction, you would later forgive yourself for your lack of breath, for not remembering to move away, for relishing in his attentions beneath lowered lids and waiting so patiently with mouth parted open. For never doubting his next intentions. You would forgive yourself for continuing to want him looking at you this way. You would forgive him, too.

Even when he chooses to stand up then, and his soft look disappears, and he chooses not to kiss you.

–

“Look what I’ve found, Vespi. Your favorite: a book of poetry!”

Ignoring his annoyed sigh at the nickname, you drop beside him and flip to your bookmark. His routine whine over how your Maeliah voice was “too sing-songy to truly capture all of a poem’s refinery” goes unheard. If his niece had decided your voice was perfect for storytime, then it was also fit for reading aloud to him.

Besides, he refuses to answer the taunts of what he believed made certain poetry beautiful—and where he found that verse with green eyes, the color unmatched by anything on earth.

A few pages in, like tradition, you notice how he never asks you to stop talking.

–

Both of you had poured over military strategies late into the day, a nervous temper claiming you two as the war drew near, and it was here on the floor of your private study you awoke, body close to his, where you both laid sprawled. Some time into the study session, Vesperion had pushed forward his tome and yanked a cushion beneath him. A hand lays still in the space between you.

As expected of most nobles, his skin appears smooth, with long, graceful fingers better fit for a musician than a swordsman. You lean on an elbow and turn his palm skyward. In a different culture, the lines in one’s hands mapped out their life given by the gods. In this culture, all you’re able to see is the cool blue of his veins. You delicately trace a finger over the roughened skin covering his fingertips; they’re distinct from your familiar softness. Warmer, too.

A slight bump sits at the base of one of his nail beds: a particular callus often seen on the hands of your teachers. Vesperion’s beloved journal flashes through your mind—with its loose pages sticking out from the binding—and you bite back a giggle.

Not a musician. A scribe.

Vesperion cracks open an eye. You watch the sun rise twice in a day. Raspy and thick with sleep, his voice is no less amused. “If Her Highness admires my hands so much, I would be more than pleased to show her exactly what my fingers can do.”

You can no longer hide your laughter. Redness tints his cheeks. He makes to stand, but you cling to his hand and tug him back to the floor. Without much thought, you straddle him. He groans.

“As much as I enjoy our heated debates, I must confess that I truly enjoy this kind of heat even more.” A teasing grin breaks across your face. “More so when it leaves you without words. What are your fingers capable of?”

In the shuffle and due to sleep, loose waves of hair had fallen dark into your eyes. Vesperion is wide awake and his eyes nearly match the color, the black of his pupils drowning out the iris.

Still, you grip your joined hands close.

So it is with great ease when he gently withdraws to reach up and tuck your hair back behind your ear in answer. But then he continues down, tracing the path of your jaw, and curls a finger underneath your chin. Nearly pressed against your lips there, as if nothing could be more natural, you kiss the joint of his closest knuckle.

Homage. The study’s window is tall and clear. It is a simple, sacred pleasure to watch as the sun paints his skin golden. Longing bubbles up like the stars in champagne.

His hands fall to your hips, but he chooses not to end this. Warmth bleeds through the fabric of your dress, burning you from the edges, filling you with an animal light. Old habits, faint childhood habits, tell you to turn away from this man. They insist upon retaliation; history will be repeated. This story will end with the Maeliah princess lost to the beast.

But one parting of his lips has you dreaming of what beautiful poetry must taste like—if only he’d allow you to devour his voice, to swallow the words he spoke.

Your palms spread upon the hard swell of his chest, feel the constant rhythm beneath the silk. There’s a sensation of drowning.

“I want to kiss you. So badly.”

Vesperion glows. “Then kiss me.”

You devour him.

A complete collection of fairytale kisses could not entirely capture this feeling. No other soul has ever been a firebrand scorching leather. Nor had another ever experienced this low, unraveling coil inside. Every inhale fills with the heat of summer beginning. His mouth opens under yours, wanting and taking, and his breathing sounds harsh in your ears. You melt into one.

So this is how Icarus must’ve felt, you muse, when he finally touched the sun.

—

Ysonia stands at your bedroom window. It is late evening, with her silhouette against the fading warmth of the sunset, and no one announces her. How long has your mother been waiting there for you? She turns when she catches your reflection in the glass; you run to embrace her.

“Mother, you’re here! Forgive me for not properly receiving you; I wasn’t aware you had arrived.”

Her voice is as light as bells as she playfully nudges you. “Please, Selinys, I don’t need to forgive you for that. Oh, it’s been too long since I’ve last seen you. Have you been well?”

“As well as can be, Mother.”

“And you’ve continued your studies? There are no tricks against you?”

“None of the sort, Mother.”

“Good, you’re much too intelligent for them anyway.” She smooths down the waving hair on the crown of your head. Neither her voice nor expression hint at her next words. “The young Verathae lord truly has not hurt you, then.”

Ice racks through your body. “You already… you know of us?”

Ysonia smiles. “Though I am queen, I am your mother first. I listen for news of you always.” She places a hand on your cheek, tender. “And the right people have many things to say. Wrong ones, too, if you’re not careful. Please listen, my darling. There can only be heartbreak if you continue to pursue the Verathae—your Vesperion.” The waiver is light. Almost not there. She holds you with control so steady it is not in you to turn aside. The contrasting pain in her eyes could have been overlooked. “Have faith in my words. I cannot bear to see you do this to yourself.”

Vain Naphenia. Stubborn Naphenia.

A foreign hand moves to take hers in its own, to move the clasp tightly between you two. Your hands fall apart. Half of your heart tears to follow the disconnect.

“I’ll be your daughter always. But I cannot so eagerly leave him. For this choice of mine, Mother… look away.”

—

He manages to swiftly find you in the darkness and kisses you in greeting. Familiarizing himself with your taste, though there is nothing else to learn. Your parents could promise you to anyone else and you would not reach this same ruination. You pull away, smooth down the brocade on his chest in thought.

“If my father wanted me out of the way, why didn’t he just send me you?” Ysonia’s concerns become buried, lost. Vesperion’s confusion is almost upsetting.

“My engagement. The king gave my hand to a lord from a land far from here; perhaps to get me out of the way. It’s the end of it for him and his troubles, but... perhaps not yet. I’m not going to marry the people’s champion.”

Your mouth is kiss-swollen and numb— 

“Happily ever after is real.”

—yet the words declare themselves as loud as fanfare.

“And I’ve found him. We don’t need the formal courtship, not if it’s you. Run away with me.”

Even as you’ve shared your lives together, the look on his face is unfamiliar. But you know the tilt of his mouth hiding a grin, and in his eyes you would always recognize the stars. How many times would you be able to count this exact reaction in the years to come? This is happiness reborn.

Vesperion holds one of your hands in his, rubs a thumb across your knuckles. Wraps your arm around his shoulders and uses the motion to draw you against him. Your head lays under his jaw and you listen to the rhythm in his chest.

“As much as you love believing your thoughts are correct, Selinys, we’re not actually skipping right to the marriage. None of those dates were merely practice.”

Vain Naphenia. Stubborn Naphenia. You had been thanking the wrong god all this time.

You laugh. By the time the sun rises over the kingdom again, the two of you are already gone.

—

Love me and leave me not.

–

There are a dozen candles in your shared room to normally allow reading in bed. Tonight, however, the light only aids in outlining lips traveling further—lower, lower, lower—down your line of sight. Your breathing is heavy, your mind miles away, yet your grip on bronze curls grounds you in contrast.

What spills from your mouth is not any previous nickname, but one just as shared between you—as much as love, as much as life.

Lover.

You breathe it out like prayer.

Lover, lover, lover.

[END]

#the seven heirs of ophaesia #seven heirs of ophaesia #seven heirs #fanfic #choice of games #vesperion verathae #vesperion #selinys #my oc #mine #long post #the sun the moon and the ocean #my fanfic #idk how to tag??? never posted my fics here before :0 #have mercy #thanks to all my friends who read thru before it was complete!!! #y'all are so breathtaking

[ohscorbus]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Saturday 25th May, 2019

Cast four, round two! It was good to be able to go into the theatre today without all the overwhelming nerves and excitement and pressure to remember every little detail. This was just about me going in and enjoying it. The cast had already won me over and now I wanted to get a better feel of these interpretations. So this isn’t one of my usual recaps! It’s just a couple of summaries about some of the characters I haven’t spoken much about yet, and a few moments from the show that particularly stood out to me. Some of them old, some of them new. All of them extra interesting to me today!

HARRY AND GINNY

It’s amazing how new energy on stage will suddenly make you sit up and take notice of. Jamie Ballard is so incredibly talented and while I’ve never once forgotten that, he sure as hell reminded me this week.

I really want to talk about him and Susie in act one scene seventeen in particular. They have a silent conversation across the table as Draco and Hermione are busy talking and while I couldn’t make out what Ginny was mouthing, Harry’s worried ‘what?’, then desperate ‘don’t’, and then distressed ‘please’, was hard to miss. He’s so obviously pained by what happened with Albus and knows how his words have most likely caused his disappearance. No matter how he tries to throw out alternative scenarios, he knows. But the fact that his wife is about to confirm this nightmare and expose it to the others crushes him. 

Once you start to notice their subtle communications you begin to see them throughout the show. Little nods and smiles and cheeky looks that’s so Jamie B’s Harry. Yet the one that stands out the most wasn’t a conversation, but a moment of uncertainty for Harry. It was after the second Ministry meeting as the staircases are being pulled off the stage. Ginny is below him on the staircase and is faced away from him when Harry goes to reach out for her but stops. His hand hesitated there in the air before she begins to walk down the stairs and realising he’s missed the moment, he pulled his hand back. It spoke volumes about the strain this whole thing had put on their relationship. To have Harry unsure how to comfort Ginny, unsure if she’d even want him to, was heartbreaking. That disconnect in a relationship we see and assume is solid really makes you stop and think.  

JAMES SIRIUS POTTER

I’m getting so much from Ryan’s James that I actually found myself seeking him out on stage over watching Albus at times. We get so little from the character in the story so anything the actor playing him can bring to the table is greatly appreciated!

My main takeaway from Ryan’s James is his maturity. In fandom, James is always written as quite loud and carefree. Even in Cursed Child he’s described by Harry as someone who ‘everything comes easy to’. But with Ryan you get so much more than that from him. His James is a lot quieter than you’d be expecting, but his subtle actions are still loud and clear. He’s constantly watching Albus and giving him these long, thoughtful looks. Like he’s trying to figure him out while assessing the situation and wondering how best to handle it. But, not through lack of trying, he fails Albus each time. For example, after the wand dance and Albus declares he ‘didn’t chose to be his son’, all the other students are laughing at him and making comments. James immediately stops and looks around before focusing on Albus. He gave him the most concerned look. Yet he waited until Albus had already started to leave (along with most of the students) before he finally stepped forward and told him to leave. (I think the exact phrase was ‘go home, Albus’ or ‘go on, Albus’?) It was too little too late but still showed us his protective, older brother side. It’s also interesting that he focuses on Albus each time and not those around him. We’re led to believe James is popular so you’d expect him to have some influence and control of the masses. Yet he never attempts to stop them from teasing Albus. Instead he always focuses on trying to sort Albus out. Like he hasn’t quite realised yet that the problem isn’t Albus, but those who are bullying him. But that’s just James not knowing what to do more than him not caring. I like that Ryan has brought some uncertainty to him. That he isn’t this perfect boy who has everything. 

You also get a little insight into his relationships with the rest of his family too. There’s a sweet and very complex high five thing he does with Lily after she’s sorted. There’s no way that didn’t take hours to perfect and I love the idea of them sitting at home and making it up and practising it. Plus the fact he doesn’t hesitate to do it in front of the whole school tells us he isn’t embarrassed by his family or of being someone who publicly gets on well with them. Then there are the mirrored looks of concern at Rose and their syncronised steps forward towards Albus after he’s sorted. Rose may be the same age as Albus but Rayxia’s Rose comes across as quite mature so it doesn’t surprise me that this Rose and James have that connection. He also seems close to Ron too. Ron secretly slips him a bag of sweets on the platform and Ron is also quick to stop James from laughing at Albus when he expresses his worries about being sorted into Slytherin. All these little background moments build him up into being someone who loves and cares for his family immensely. 

We get all this depth from him but we don’t lose the cheekiest we’ve come to love about him either. He still sings as he says goodbye to his dad, he still playfully hits Albus on the platform, he still teases him about the Thestrals, and he even feigns absolute disbelief and outrage on the train when the trolley witch goes straight past his carriage so he misses out on the sweets. It all makes for a very real interpretation of a boy who’s full of love for his family. A boy who on the surface has everything figured out, but inside is just as unsure as any other fifteen year old.

ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER

I spoke about Dom’s Albus a lot in my previous recaps but to quickly revisit, I love how he’s physically small but very loud with his body. He speaks expressively with his hands and is constantly throwing his arms up and out to make points. But then he’ll also stiffen his shoulders and curl in on himself, gently swaying sidewards from one foot to another, as he nervously plays with his hands (a little like Scorpius, which beautifully reflects on how much time they’ve spent around each other over the years). He even goes as far as hunching over as he awkwardly sits, always placing one foot on top of the other when he’s not entirely comfortable with the situation or conversation. It’s fascinating to see how big and small he can make himself so quickly as it’s a great reflection of his mood and how fast that changes. I also need to mention his smile because this Albus does not hold back. Those big toothy grins are pure and childlike. I’m glad. Because while Albus is going through his own personal hell, he still finds happiness and he grabs onto it with both hands. He takes small victories and he’s proud of himself when he wants to be. Having that reflected without a shadow of a doubt on his face is wonderful.

DELPHI

I already wrote about her at length here, but to summarise: she’s something to really get excited about. 

HERMIONE GRANGER

I’m still struggling to connect with Michelle’s Hermione if I’m honest. I think the fact her interpretation seems to be heavily influenced by what I personally consider Hermione’s worst traits, isn’t really helping me. She’s very much a know-it-all and is quite dismissive as a result of that at times. I want more warmth from her which I know she has in her because I see it with Ginny. Those two have small background interactions in part one that I really love. She comes across as friendly and familiar, it’s quite different from the Minister for Magic side of her. But again, I think the fact that Hermione has never been one of my favourites means I’m always going to struggle with her in Cursed Child so I realise this is most likely down to me rather than Michelle’s choices. I definitely just need to see her more so I can figure her out and I’m looking forward to it!

SCORPIUS MALFOY

It’s funny how you can watch someone for an entire year to then suddenly it’s like you’re seeing them for the first time. But the change in energy really has brought something out in him. Maybe it’s the combination of still having his ‘dad’ while getting a new ‘best friend’? Whatever it is, I hope he keeps it up (his finally unrestrained anger in particular) because he kept pulling my focus these past few days and as an Albus fan, that usually takes a lot! I think the fact he’s already bonding with Dom will help them both too. The real life friendship between the Albus and Scorpius actors always shows on stage. Which you know, can be a good thing or a bad thing. But with these two? Definitely a good thing.

I also need to shout out to Gordon Millar who was our very first cover! It’s always entertaining to see who the fandom gravitate to and it appears he’s already one of the clear winners which is totally understandable. He really made me hate St. Oswald’s even more than I already do and I mean that in the best kind of way. He just played the role of the bully carer far too well. It made the fact he was such a sweetheart at stage door that much better. Here’s to hoping we get to see his Scorpius...!

#I'm sad I'm not seeing the show for another month now but I'm also really excited to see where they've all taken their characters by then #harry potter and the cursed child #TCCleanne #mypost #text long #long post

[littlemisskookie]

The Disappearance of Marcus Cambell

A Horror Story WC: 1,434

I'd say without a shadow of a doubt that my family was completely, utterly, and undeniably ordinary. We were the typical white suburban family, my father working as some sort of consultant and my mother as a counselor. I, Lucas, was the eldest of three boys, the most remarkable thing about me at the time being that I was the only seventh grader at my school to try weed. The middle child, Tyler, was a bit better than I was, a squeakier reputation that my parents yearned for me, despite the fact he was only two years younger and had yet to be corrupted. The youngest was Marcus, perhaps the plainest of us all. He was only six, with the same round face and light hair that all Campbells adorned. He used to be ordinary, just like us. He used to be normal.

Everything changed, though.

I was only twelve at the time, both of my parents away at work, leaving me to care for my younger brothers. It was a hot summer afternoon, and I was doing a lackluster job, instead staying in the shade and playing games on my phone. Tyler and Marcus both decided to play hide and seek in the woods that lined my backyard. I didn't think anything of it, thinking of myself as responsible and grown up enough. Besides, it was the middle of the day and plenty of kids went out into the woods.

What you don't hear about, I guess, is them not coming out.

I was half asleep by the time Tyler ran to me, shaking me in an effort to bring me to my senses.

"I can't find Marcus," he explained, a concerned expression on his face.

"Did you tell him that you gave up?" We all had a tendency to hide until the last possible moment, waiting for the enemy to surrender before we would reveal ourselves.

"Yeah, but he still hasn't come out. Help me look for him."

With much reluctance, I eventually dragged myself from where I was resting to venture into the woods. We called Marcus's name over and over again, our words being swallowed by the thick mass of trees, only to be responded with silence. It didn't feel like a horror movie at the time, more like a minor inconvenience on my part.

It wasn't until ten minutes of searching, with no response, that we realized Marcus wasn't hiding anymore. More accurately, he was being hidden.

The police scrounged the area, as deep into the woods as they could go, with no avail. My parents were devastated when they found out, my mother sobbing and my father failing to console her. We didn't want to give up hope, but statistics simply glared in our face. The first 42 hours in a missing person's case were crucial, and needless to say, Marcus wasn't found in two days.

There were no leads, no witnesses, no clues. Not a footprint was left, nor a scrap of clothing. It was as though Marcus had simply vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. No amount of crying and apologizes from strangers could numb the fact that a six-year-old was missing.

I had toned down my reckless behavior after Marcus's disappearance, blending in rather than causing a scene. Whenever I'd do anything remotely bad, the middle school counselors would blame it on my own grievances, despite the fact that I had done many of the same acts before Marcus's disappearance. Everyone would stare at me, knowing me as the one who's kid brother went missing. I didn't like the feigned expressions of concern, nor the rumors that I was involved in foul play. Even Tyler stopped being the golden child he once was, dulling like a fading light. Despite all of the humming teachers and therapists that circled constantly, we were inconsolable. Possibly because we blamed ourselves for what happened.

Five months later, with our family still devastated by the loss of Marcus, a miracle happened. At least, it seemed like a miracle at the time. Looking back, I think of it more so as a curse.

Marcus had returned on a cold day, one where the wind slapped at your cheeks and the frost would cover the grass. He had been naked, wearing nothing as he walked from the woods and into the backyard, going straight to our house. There wasn't a single scratch on him, and somehow he seemed unaffected by the cold.

Our family was overjoyed, glad that he was alright. We were swarmed by police and investigators, the case breaking the odds as people celebrated Marcus's return. It was a strange case, needless to say, and though everyone pried Marcus with questions, seeking answers, he'd only give them one response.

"I don't remember."

Many speculated that it was some sort of pervert or child kidnapper, but seeing as his body didn't seem to suffer from any sort of trauma, it seemed unlikely. Eventually, the press and buzz died down, seeing as there wouldn't be any answers.

Everything seemed to fine, and life would return as it was. Marcus was concluded to have suffered from a case of repression as a form of coping, and it was determined it was probably for the best. He seemed to be mentally sound and healthy, and seeing as no harm had come to him physically, he'd be well off.

But that wasn't the case.

Strangely enough, as years passed by, Marcus didn't change a bit. Literally. His mental state stayed to that of a six-year-old, but more frightening, he didn't seem to grow a bit. Over the course of four years, he hadn't lost an ounce of baby fat, nor grown a single inch. My father joked that he'd simply be lucky, not having to suffer from Tyler and my hand me downs. My mother, however, had a different approach, sending Marcus to every doctor she could. None could provide a reason as to why her son was stuck in a six-year-old's body over the course of four years.

I found out, however.

I was sixteen, four years after the incident. At this point, I had matured a little bit, though regained what bits of me had been lost during the grieving periods. My parents were holding a barbecue to celebrate the Fourth of July. My mother insisted my brothers and I should wear matching shirts to celebrate, the colors following the theme for a family picture she planned to take later. Tyler and I found it annoying, both of us in high school at the time. Marcus, of course, seemed to have no problem with it.

Things seemed to be rather mundane and normal for the time being. I was talking to my grandmother, tolerating her insistent pestering for me to get a girlfriend when I noticed Marcus begin to wander off into the woods. At the moment it was closer to an excuse to get away from the prying questions than it was worry for my brother.

I followed after him, but the moment he saw me, he ran. It was weird- I, a sixteen-year-old boy, should undoubtedly be able to outrun a six-year-old. Marcus was faster than I could've imagined, zig-zagging every which way he could.

Before I knew it, I was lost deep in the heart of the woods, finding myself at an abandoned shack. Marcus ran in, and I promptly grabbed his arm, tugging him to my side.

"You should know better than to go into the woods!" I hissed, glaring at him. "Just what do you think you're doing?" Ever since the incident, children have been forbidden from venturing too far inside, in fear of another disappearance.

"I'm going home," Marcus said calmly.

At that moment, my blood froze, and I stared into his blank eyes with a mix of confusion and anger. It wasn't until then that I looked around, noticing how the interior of the shack wasn't at all similar to what the exterior indicated. Instead, it appeared to be a lab, with white walls and tubes covering the ground. Tables were covered in tiny tools, and plastic covered random patches of the ground. At the far end of the room stood a giant cylinder-shaped container, filled with a light blue liquid.

Inside was Marcus, wearing the exact same clothes that he was when he went missing.

I looked down at the boy whose arm I was still holding onto, his eyes locking with mine. I let go, staggering back at the small boy who's clothing matched my own.

Of two things I was absolutely certain. First was the boy who I was with at the moment was not my brother. The second was that whatever it was, it wasn't human.

#horror #horror story #short story #drabble #for fun #not bts

[officerjennie]

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Characters: Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Madara, Senju Butsuma, Senju Hashirama, Senju Itama Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Supernatural Elements, Warring States Period (Naruto), Child Neglect, Child Abandonment, Tobirama doesn't die in this one, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I have other stories I should be working on, Why Did I Write This? Series: Part 3 of Tobirama in Mythology Summary:

Abandoned as a child and left to starve in the streets, Tobirama hadn't expected to live long. But he stubbornly clung to life anyway, and a passing shinobi collected him and named him his ward, and he became an honorary member of the Senju family.

Or: How Tobirama wound up with a family, and found his place in the human world.

OR: I'm terrible at summaries, and have no idea what I'm doing with my life.

There wasn’t room for disobedience in a shinobi clan. Even small acts had to be heavily punished, defiance beaten out of children and replaced with deference as soon as they could grip a kunai - the wrong question could cost lives in the field, after all, and every soldier counted in such times of war.

That being said, Madara had a secret. His rebellious stage had barreled into him rather suddenly, and it had hit him hard. A grin split his face as he snuck into the kitchen, his eyes scouring the shadows for any hint of movement. A wicker basket hung from his arm, its inside padded with one of the older blankets he’d found shoved in the back of his oshiire. He only just managed to keep his snickering silent as he tucked a few loaves of fresh-baked bread into his basket, followed shortly by a decent hunk of cheese and a jar of their mildest pepper jam - leftover from the batch he’d made for his mother’s last birthday.

He froze for a minute, standing stalk still with one outstretched, following someone’s chakra as they entered a room on the other side of the house. After making sure they weren’t headed his way, he shoved a few fruits in with the rest of his haul, making off with it before someone could catch him in the act.

Avoiding the guard patrols was literal child’s play at this point, though he would deny even thinking that he was a child anymore, and he took off at a full sprint as soon as he hit the tree line.

As expected, his usual spot was blissfully quiet and empty when he arrived. The river flowed nearby, the sound of water helping ease the constant tension from his shoulders. It was still a bit early for lunch, but he set up his picnic anyway, shaking out the blanket before flopping himself down on it and tearing off some bread to chew on.

“Madara! You came back!”

So much for peace and quiet. He groaned, throwing himself back to the ground and blocking his eyes with his arms. “You say that every time! I told you I’d be here.” He braved a peek up, only to be blinded by the idiot’s stupid grin.

“I know. I’m just happy to see you.” Hashirama somehow managed to smile even wider. Madara had to push him over to sit back up, and didn’t bother hiding his laughter as the other boy squeaked, pouting as he rubbed at his sore backside.

His friend was an idiot.

“Help me eat this. I brought too much.” Madara shoved some bread and jam at his friend, pulling out a kunai to slice them some cheese. He scowled at his friend’s knowing smile, ignoring the gratitude in favor of his own food. The Uchiha clan had been more fortunate than most lately, due to a recent alliance with the affluent Hagoromo clan, and he couldn’t exactly ask his friend how his own clan was fairing. Mind you, if anyone asked, he would deny any implication that he was worried - he’d just so happened to bring enough food for three. It was a coincidence, nothing more; that was his story, and he was sticking to it.

At least when Hashirama’s mouth was stuffed he couldn’t talk. A gentle quiet settled around them, the cool breeze rustling the trees and grass and tossing their hair. Madara breathed in deep the peace between them, savoring the feeling and allowing himself to truly relax in a way he couldn’t elsewhere.

Here, in their secret spot at the river, tucked away in the forest, miles from their clans and the war waging on forever, it was easy to forget all they’d lost. Eiji might not be at home waiting for him, but it hurt a little less when he talked of him to Hashirama, his friend damn near pissing himself with laughter at how the boy had somehow managed to get udon stuck up his nose. Even Isamu seemed more at rest as of late, the nightmares of holding him as he bled out, his intestines spilling out in his hands - the aches dulled, all of it drowned out by his bright friend and the shinning village they’d built in their shared dreams.

Madara wasn’t an idiot. He knew who Hashirama really was - knew who his father was, too. Knew what would happen if his own father discovered this treason. But he was tired of the war, tired of constantly fighting for no real reason. And he was tired of burying his brothers - Izuna was all he had left now, and he would do anything to keep him safe.

His friend might be an enemy, but he understood him more than anyone from his own clan ever had. Besides, Hashirama hadn’t been the one to kill his brothers. Madara had hunted those bastards down himself, and had made sure their deaths weren’t easy.

He watched Hashirama in his periphery, ignoring his friend’s uncultured whining about not liking jam with cheese. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea if the other had recognized him as an Uchiha. His friend was incredibly stupid, but he had a nasty habit of being dangerously perceptive when he wanted to be. Well, if he had, he’d chosen not to mention it - and Madara was more than happy to leave that topic be as well.

He was in the middle of laughing at Hashirama, who had tripped over a large tree root, wailing with big, watery eyes in an attempt to gain some sympathy, when a rather undignified - and horrifyingly familiar - squawk came from the bushes behind them. Before Madara had time to place the sound, his little brother was hurling himself out of the brush, rushing behind him to put his big brother between him and whatever had caused his panic.

“Ghost! A hungry ghost! Kill it, Nii-san!”

“Kill a ghost?” He tried to twist enough to see his brother, but it was near impossible with how tight Izuna was holding him. And what was he on about anyway? He’d told Hikaku to knock it off with those bedtime ghost stories.

“Your friend was followed, Hashirama.”

If anyone asked later, Madara would deny starting at the new voice. He would also deny the undignified sound he made as he whirled around to spot the source. Somehow, the new boy had managed to sneak up on them without so much as a sound, and was watching the two Uchiha from his spot next to Hashirama, sharp red eyes studying them and an unreadable expression on his pale face.

“Don’t just stand there! He’ll eat us! Kill us and eat our corpses!” Izuna dug his feet into the ground, trying his best to push Madara forward. Madara just scowled back at him and stuck his feet to the ground with chakra. Sure, Hashirama’s other friend looked odd, but he didn’t look like a ghost - not like a hungry ghost, anyway. No spitting fire, no horrid stench. And his body seemed proportionate enough.

“He’s not a hungry ghost, you brat. The sun’s still up.” Remembering how the ghosts could only be seen at night, he waved a hand up at the sky to prove his point. His brother looked unconvinced, but notably stopped pushing on his back.

Hashirama stepped towards them then, leaning to the side to beam at Izuna, who was still firmly tucked behind his brother. “You must be Madara’s little brother, right?” When he refused to answer, ducking his head back behind him as Hashirama waved, Madara nodded for him with a nervous scratch at his neck. He found it hard to look away form the new boy; it was weird meeting someone outside of his clan with red eyes, and he’d never met anyone his own age with white hair. He scooted a bit closer, dragging his brother with him as he not so subtly gawked at the boy’s tattoos. How come he got to have tattoos so young?

“Who’s that?” He meant to sound more casual, but the boy had stared to stare right back at him, his mouth twitching down in the barest suggestion of a frown. Hashirama near knocked the poor kid over with an enthusiastic clap to his back, puffing his chest up with sudden and uncharacteristic pride.

“This is my brother, Tobirama!” Tobirama blinked over at his brother with wide eyes, and Madara was glad for the distraction, cursing the heat he had felt building in his cheeks. The new boy had started to say something when Izuna cut in with a hiss, tugging at Madara’s arm to get his attention.

“What are you doing? You can’t talk to them!” Madara felt himself pale at the words, and it finally dawned on him just how bad this situation was.

Izuna knew. He knew, and if he said anything, their peace would be broken. Hashirama and him could feign ignorance all they wanted, but their brothers were here. Could they really stay friends, secret allies, if their names were spoken out loud now?

“Why can’t he talk to us?” The tip of Tobirama’s nose scrunched up in offense, and in Madara’s fearful daze he couldn’t help but think how cute it made him look. Izuna poked his head out under Madara’s arm to shoot the boy a scathing glare, and Madara let his arm rest on the smaller boy’s shoulder, feeling a bit better at the protective gesture.

“You’re Senju.” The word was spat out, and it hung heavy in the air between them. Madara saw his friend still with him at the name, feeling the horror he saw mirrored in Hashirama’s eyes. “We’re enemies. You don’t talk to enemies.”

Madara forgot how to breathe, and his limbs loosened in anticipation of an attack. The blow was coming. It had to be. Hashirama couldn’t let him get away with knowing his name - it felt like the trees were suddenly too close, like his chest was too tight for his lungs.

This was it. Their peace was over. And he didn’t want it to end.

“That makes no sense.” Madara snapped his head over to stare at Tobirama. The boy’s brow was furrowed ever so slightly with genuine confusion. “We should talk because we’re enemies.”

Since he found it quite difficult to speak at the moment, Madara grunted out a questioning noise instead, managing to make it sound like he wasn’t currently struggling to process words. It earned him a lazy shrug in return.

“You’re Uchiha. We’re Senju. Killing each other will only fuel the war.” He paused for a moment, ruby gaze unfocused on the ground between them. “Enough people have died for the war. Only a truce will end the fighting. And truces are reached by talking.”

“Wow.” Hashirama stared over at his brother with bright, watery eyes, and Madara found himself grudgingly agreeing with the inane comment. Wow, indeed. The boy had, in the span of a minute, made more sense to him than over a decade of his elder’s endless drivel. Those few sentences had a flicker of warmth starting up in his gut. Maybe this wasn’t the end after all.

“I’ve never heard you say so much, Tobira! I’m so proud!”

Madara’s eye twitched. Scratch that; apparently they weren’t on the same page. Hashirama tried to throw himself onto his brother, blubbering some nonsense about progress as the boy expertly wriggled free and dodged a second attempt at crushing him. Why was he friends with this idiot again?

Never mind his friend’s dramatics. Madara shook his head, focusing back on the actual issues at hand. “How are we supposed to make a truce?” The two Senju stopped as well, Hashirama sobering up enough from his antics to actually be serious. “We’re not clan heads, we’re not even elders. We don’t have any say in the matter.”

“I know!” Hashirama lit up, a hopeful smile warming his tan face as he stepped forward. “We’ll make our own truce, just between us. Then, when we are clan heads, we’ll make a new truce that includes our clans, too.”

Madara blinked at his friend’s outstretched hand. So he had known. At least that was all cleared up. And really, if they of all people could get along - two clan heirs, sons of the fiercest enemies - anyone could. Live and lead by example, and whatnot.

It only took a moment to make up his own mind, and Madara could feel his own matching, stupid grin split his face as he clasped his best friend’s hand. They could do this. They really could. Together, the both of them would bring an end to this so called endless war.

After a promise to meet again soon, and some more unsightly blubbering from Hashirama, both sets of brothers set off towards their respective homes. Izuna was uncharacteristically quiet the entire way back, his whole face pulled down in a deep frown and his feet dragging. He didn’t say a word until they’d made it up their porch, pausing as his brother held the front door open for him.

“You shouldn’t trust them, Nii-san.”

He didn’t try to respond, nor did he try to stop his brother from heading off somewhere into the compound. It’s not like he knew what to say, anyway. He still wasn’t sure why he trusted Hashirama, couldn’t put the gut feeling he had about the boy to words. He just watched Izuna walk off, then made his way inside to his bedroom. He could ponder the enigma of his own emotions later; skipping study time to meet with his friend meant he had to make it up sometime, and doing it now would let him get to bed at a reasonable time.

His thoughts wandered a bit more than usual as he sat at his desk, pen having a mind of it’s own and filling the margins with sketchy versions of those striking ruby eyes he’s sure he’d be seeing in his dreams that’s night. Hopefully, sensei wouldn’t comment on them when he turned his work in.

#also on ao3 #madatobi #midfic #mywriting #slowburn #madara uchiha #izuna uchiha #hashirama #tobirama

[affectionatespy626]

Title: Seasons of Love

Type: AU Fan-Fic

Origin: Mystic Messenger

Genre: Sweet (?)

Words: 1411 (?)

Day 1 Entry for @saeranchoiweek

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Three years has passed after being reunited with his brother, both of them now living what seems to be like any ordinary life, and free from all that conflicted and restrained them. The issue of their identity was no longer any concern as they moved away from the heart of the city into a more peaceful provincial town and were currently under the protection of the C&R’s director who eventually ended up acting as their guardian. To these brothers, living a simple, average life was nothing but mere dreams of a possible future, but now, anyone could see how freely they live their life. Free from the chains of the past. Free from the pursuit of their aggressors.  Free from the hell they both had to suffer through. It was now a life they could truly spend like any other family.

Winter was slowly melting away into newborn spring, his breath forming into mist as his minty colored eyes gazed upon the proud yellow sun hanging above the oceanic skies, his mind drifting from one thought to another as he stood outside their home, letting time slip by. His formerly discolored hair has now returned to its natural state, and possibly had grown a tad longer from the past years. This was with an oath of a new beginning, and a new life, and through the course of time and every season, he was able to slowly rebuild himself, recover what he felt he lost, and was able to find serenity within his heart. His lips soon lifted into a timid smile as he recalled what was passed, and now he was living as a new man.

Feeling the cool breeze against his face, a small high pitched voice soon followed the bustling leaves of the shamrock tree. “Saeran-oppa! Saeran-oppa!” A young girl with long purplish-black hair caught his attention, causing him to turn and crouch to meet her with a gentle smile.

“Hello, Macy. Where you worried about me?” His question placed a small pout and a glare on the little lady’s face, her cheeks puffed, her arms crossed above her chest, which caused his smile to deepen. “It’s almost lunch time. Did you want something in particular?” He inquired further, causing the girl to nod, bashful and shyly replying in a small voice,  “.....I want to have strawberry crepe….” He had already expected something of the sort to be her response, but he could only exhale a sigh as he gently ruffled her head of hair.

“That’s not exactly a proper meal, but, I guess I can let it slide just this once. After all, I kind of... also want to have one too.” Smiling wryly to himself, he slowly rose to his feet and ushered the little girl by the hand, having a small chat as they made their way home.

“Saeyoung-oppa!” Running at full speed, the little lady crashes towards a sleeping redhead on the couch, causing him to jolt up as his eyes sprang wide and awake from the impact of her hug. “Waaaaaaaaake up! It’s lunch time! Get up or we’ll call the tickle monster!” The girl declared as the lad feigned fright and defeat with his arms flailed upward, making a whiney sound.

“Oh noooooo! She got me! The tickle monster has got me! Saeraaaaan heeeeelp!” Laughing and giggling, he could only wriggle and squirm as the child began to tickle his sides as he continued to protest. “Okay, I am up!! I am up!”

“Good. Now help me make lunch, you lazy ass.” The younger redhead grunted as he made his way towards the kitchen after rolling his sleeves up to his elbow,  putting on an apron and keeping his hair up into a small messy updo. “You’re chopping vegetables this time.”

“Ouch! Is that a demotion?” Playfully whined the older redhead, his golden eyes practically smiling in amusement at how his brother acted so mature around the presence of the child. “Alright, masterchef. Let’s bake honey butter chips in the oven and turn it into cake---”

“We’re making bibimbap! Bi-bim-bap! No junk food!” Frustration easily took him causing him to scowl toward his brother, and their casual back and forth left the girl to break into giggles, and these were how their recent days were spent, time and time again, no day was dull when these three were together,

Cooking for three wasn’t an easy task for the brothers, especially as they constantly bickered and argued while doing their roles in the kitchen. Saeran, although his skill isn’t polished yet, he was still a better cook than Saeyoung, thus the older twin taking the role of preparing and cutting ingredients. And while they cooked, Macy was their audience, sitting at the kitchen counter, humming nursery rhymes trying to entertain the brothers. That was until she suddenly thought of something important for her and decided to ask them about it.

“Saeran-oppa, did the angels finally invited mama to be with them in heaven? I want to see her... I miss her….  Will she still love and remember me from there?” With her sudden question causing all movements in the kitchen to a halt, the brothers could only look at each other as they contemplated on what their respond should be without hurting the little one’s feelings. That was not an option for them, not when they were growing fond of the child. Silence then took them for a while, when Saeran decided to shut the stove and walk up to the curiously staring little lady, giving her a hug before deciding to open his mouth, prompting worry on the older twin’s face.

“Remember the poetry you made with your mama last Christmas Eve?” He gently stroked her hair as he calmly asked the child, urging her to recite the piece with him.

“That when winter melts and turns into spring, a melody will rise as the birds proudly spreads its wings of pleasant cheers and sing.

And when spring transcends into summer, it will be the time for the sun to take over the stage and lead the oceanic waves to spread the happiness even further.

When summer flakes away into the crisp of autumn, is when the angels celebrate a child’s life in tranquil nocturne.

And as autumn fades to winter, is when a mother lovingly embraces her child as she promises to love and remain with her forever.”

Do you remember that?” Saeran comes face to face with the child, meeting her tear-misted eyes with​ his own mellowed ones. “Your mom…. Wants you to know how much she loves you and that will never change. Not even distance can stop that.”

“He’s right.” Saeyoung chimes in as he strode up to them, clumsily wiping away a tear that trailed down her cheek. “You will see her again someday. Just always remember, she loves you and she wishes you to be happy, celebrate every season like how you  always have with her and cherish the memories in your heart forever.”

“And whenever you do miss her, don’t hesitate to tell me so we can go visit her and bring her fresh flowers. No matter the season, no matter the reason, as long as you remember her, she’ll always be with you. And I will always be right here for you too, okay?” As his mint colored eyes mellow with gentleness, the little lady found herself meekly nodding as she began quietly sobbing, feeling her heart melt in sorrow as she slowly understood why she’s now in their care.

“Saeran-oppa, thank you for taking care of me… Macy will promise to be happy for mama so she won’t disappoint her.” As a smile slowly crept upon her tear stained face, she couldn’t help but give the kind lad a big hug, making the older twin brother feel proud and happy for his younger twin who looked a bit awkward and bashful from being thanked and hugged by the child.

After their momentary sadness found its resolution, Macy and the Choi brothers resumed to prepare their lunch and enjoyed their meal time together, chattering along as they do. While the season change and turn its page from one to another, one thing remain constant with this unusual trio: A season never passes by without Saeran committing to his promise of visiting Macy's mother with her and offering her tombstone an array of beautiful flowers, blossoms of every season which she had always loved.

#saeranchoiweek #saeran choi week 2k18 #mysme saeran #mysme saeyoung #mysme au fanfic #wondering what would it be like to be a father

[livingthroughchoices-blog]

The Marshmallow Chronicles (Ch. 7: Fire and Ice)

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Author’s notes: This is another long one. It’s also pretty harsh to Olivia. I actually love her but this is Drake’s PoV so /: it will definitely soften over time, though! As always, thanks for reading and special thanks to @starstruckzonkoperatorbat and @notoriouscs for asking me to tag them! Please don’t feel any obligation to read though!

Rating: T

Pairing: Drake x MC

Words: 5931

Drake got in the limo with Liam and Bastien and immediately crossed his arms, directing his brooding stare out the window.

“Drake? What’s wrong?” Liam’s voice was laced with real concern, which only further irritated Drake.

“Oh, I don’t know, I had to wake up at an ungodly hour to go to Olivia’s estate, so everything’s just peachy, Liam.”

“Come on, Drake, she’s not that–”

“Do not say bad. Just don’t. You know what she’s like with me.”

“... Fair enough. I still think it’s a mistake to be acting like this, though.”

“Why?” Drake finally turned to look at Liam, his eyes sparkling with misplaced anger. “You scared I’ll ‘embarrass’ you in front of your suitors?”

“That’s enough.” Liam’s voice was not angry, but firm. “Stop being a child.”

Drake’s mouth dropped indignantly.

“I understand why you don’t like Olivia, but you will make an effort to be civil, because I know you can be the bigger person. As for earlier, I merely meant that you shouldn’t let someone you dislike ruin your day. Try to have fun, at least.”

Drake recovered his composure. “Fine. I–I will.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Besides, there is just one Olivia. You can choose to spend time with Maxwell, Hana and Riley instead.”

“Lady Kiara will be there too,” jumped in Bastien with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

“Shut up, Bastien. But yeah, I guess it could be fun,” said Drake with a grudging smile. He returned to looking at the window with a more relaxed posture.

“A child...” he grumbled, “I’m not a child.”

“Sure you’re not,” sniggered Bastien. “And before you ask, no, we’re not there yet.”

Drake – very maturely, in his opinion – resisted the urge to mimic Bastien mockingly and contented himself with pulling a face at him.

One long car ride later, Drake and Liam were woken up by Bastien, who had barely blinked the entire journey. 

“Bastien,” said Liam, “now that we’re here, you should get some rest.”

“Your Highness, I can’t–”

“Assign one of your men to me and go rest. I am serious.”

Bastien sighed in defeat. “I will, Your Highness.”

Drake clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Quit worrying, old man, he’ll be fine. I’ll be there.”

Bastien looked severely unimpressed.

Drake’s hand went to his chest, feigning outrage. “Your skepticism wounds me, but your man will be there too, anyway. So go rest.” He made a shooing motion and Bastien finally walked away, talking into his earpiece.

“I must go greet Olivia and thank her for her hospitality. I take it you’d rather stay and wait for the others?”

“You take it right,” replied Drake grumpily. “Say hi to annoying-ass Ronald McDonald for me.”

Liam shot him a look and shook his head with a reluctant smile.

As Liam walked away, Drake took in his surroundings. He was standing at the foot of an imposing mountain range. Their pristine white surfaces interrupted by snow-covered pine trees standing in small clusters. There was a frozen lake in the distance and the sounds of laughter and shouts of joy reached him through the crisp air. He breathed in deeply.

Despite his temper, he couldn’t deny it was beautiful here. The type of place he wouldn’t mind spending some time in with friends... or a girl. 

Whoa, where did that come from? 

He did not often think that way. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wished to have a relationship. He was by no means inexperienced, but he preferred to keep things casual. At court, with so much gossip going around and reputations to maintain, this didn’t exactly make him popular with the ladies. 

Is it because I’m not a noble? Huh. 

Or maybe it’s all those walls you put up, asshole... 

Yep, that sounds more likely.  

He let his thoughts wander freely, curious about where they’d take him. He found himself daydreaming of skiing with this mystery girl and then cuddling next to a fire. He shook his head in surprise. 

Do I really want that? Something so... domestic? Or am I just being weird ‘cause Liam’s getting married?

His brain wasn’t done, though; he and the girl had started making out. 

Wait, why haven’t I thought of her face? 

He turned his attention to the girl, trying to picture what she looked like...

“Here we are...” said a loud, excited voice behind him. “Welcome to Lythikos! Land of ice, snow, and mountains.”

Drake wheeled around to find Maxwell, Riley and Hana approaching. He felt his face grow warm for no apparent reason and smiled sheepishly at them, feeling like a kid caught red-handed. 

What the hell, dude? Chill.

Fortunately, all three of them were too busy taking in the magnificent landscape to pay much attention to him. 

“This is where Olivia lives?” Riley said, her mouth open in awe.

“Some of the time, yeah,” replied Maxwell. “She’s primarily at Lythikos Hall, which is further south, but she’ll host us up here for the social season, so we can take advantage of the snowy festivities...” 

He mimicked skating, skiing and a snowball fight. Hana let out her tinkling laugh while Riley smiled and made eye contact with Drake, her eyes saying something like, “This guy.” Drake smiled back and rolled his eyes at Maxwell. 

Riley’s face suddenly became serious,“And so she can take advantage of the Prince?”

Drake resisted the urge to say something harsh. Of course she’ll take the advantage of being in her home turf! She’d be a fool not to; and Olivia was a lot of nasty things, in Drake’s opinion, but a fool was not one of them. 

Why does she even care? Liam is clearly gonna choose her... God, how naive can you get?!

“She does have the edge here, but that’s no reason to admit defeat!” Hana said, chipper. She put a hand on Riley’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit,” Maxwell put his hand on Riley’s other shoulder.

Drake looked around and realized something was missing. “What happened to your brother, Maxwell? I notice he’s not around lecturing Addams.” Riley nodded thoughtfully. Drake continued, “I thought he hated to miss out on the chance to eat fancy food and rub elbows with the royals...”

Maxwell fidgeted uncomfortably, then passed it off as a shiver. “Bertrand was called away for some business having to do with our estate.”

Drake narrowed his eyes at Maxwell suspiciously, while the latter pretended not to notice, bending down to form a snowball.

“Bertrand is gone?” 

Drake could swear Riley’s smile took up half her face; it would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so... endearing? 

Huh. At least I didn’t think cute first. 

“This is starting to sound like a real vacation after all.” Riley had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she said this.

“That’s one way to put it,” Maxwell conceded. “Now we can really enjoy ourselves.”

“Well, it is beautiful out here...” Hana said, still looking around admiringly. “Even if it is so very cold!” She shivered violently in her thin dress.

He turned to look at Riley and noticed she too was wearing inadequate clothing. 

This is crazy! Addams is gonna get hypothermia! Er, they both will! 

He looked at them disapprovingly. 

“Didn’t you pack anything warmer?” he directed his question at Hana, who seemed to be shaking more than Riley.

She grimaced. She even did that prettily. “...Not exactly. I didn’t realize it’d be snowing quite this much... but I’ll survive.” Drake privately doubted that, but it didn’t seem like saying it out loud would be any help. “What say we check out the inside of the chateau?” Hana pointed in the direction of the chateau, whose roof poked out among the trees.

Maxwell, who had been building an indiscernible snow creature, came back to them. “Good idea. Riley, let’s go! I can show you where your room is...”

They walked towards the imposing chateau. The enormous double doors were opened for them by guards and they entered. The chateau was opulent and intimidating, all marble with purple details here and there. He noticed most of the decor had sharp points. 

Very Nevrakis. 

“All right, I’m taking Riley to her room. Should we meet at the frozen lake for skating in 20 minutes?”

Drake snorted. “I won’t be skating, but sure.”

Maxwell shrugged and started towards the stairs.

“Why, Drake? You scared?” teased Riley.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “I could skate circles around you.”

“Oh? How about that triple or nothing, then?”

“Well, uh, I’d rather ski, actually.”

“Fine. I can beat you at anything, Drake, no worries,” she gave him a cheerful smile and winked before catching up to Maxwell.

Drake turned to go and caught a glimpse of Hana looking curiously at him. It made him uneasy but he decided not to dwell on it.

After a quick nap, Drake put on a scarf and went out to meet the others. He really didn’t plan on skating and he was, in fact, scared. He’d never skated before and it seemed like the kind of activity that required the kind of grace he lacked. 

He was sure Maxwell would be decent at it, being a noble, or at least would have the enthusiasm to make up for any clumsiness. Hana would be incredible at it, obviously. And Riley... Riley would approach it as she had done everything else, so far: fearlessly. He smiled involuntarily. He had to hand it to her, she was so much more than he’d thought.

After a few minutes of walking, he came to the clearing where the lake was. Like everywhere else around here, the ground sparkled with blue-white snow where it hadn’t been disturbed; around the shores of the lake, however, the snow was muddy and messy.

Everyone else was already there. He spotted Liam skating with Olivia and Maxwell skating with Riley, who had changed into something warmer. A weight he hadn’t realized had been on his chest this whole time, lifted. 

Okay, so I’m glad she’s not getting hypothermia, that doesn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t even want Olivia to get hypothermia... I don’t think.

Quite apart from being a better outfit for this weather, her new ensemble really suited her. She looked cozy and cute. 

Damn it, I thought it that time. 

He searched for a distraction and saw Hana sitting by the shore. She looked melancholy.

Here we go again.

He sat next to her, this time not waiting for her invitation. Hana didn’t even seem to notice, her eyes were so far away. Drake followed her gaze and found himself looking directly at Riley, who was now happily skating with Liam. They looked perfect together.

His staring in the same direction as Hana seemed to shake her from her trance and she turned to look at Drake, but her eyes still looked wistful. A moment of understanding passed between them. Drake just nodded and she shrugged as if to say, “What can you do?” She then surprised him by resting her head on his shoulder. Drake froze up for a second, then relaxed into it.

He noticed Liam skating off to join Olivia again and nudged Hana’s head with his shoulder. “Liam’s gone. You should go skate.”

“Oh! He is... but I’m not sure I–”

“Hana, go.”

“...You’re right. Thank you, Drake!”

Drake watched Hana skate perfectly – I knew it – towards Riley, who received her with a huge smile. Drake smiled slightly. 

So, Hana has a crush on Addams, huh? Can’t say I blame her. I mean, not that I see it, but whatever.

Just then, he heard Lady Kiara cry out after falling on her butt. Drake restrained his laughter as best as he could and waved her over. She slowly got up and made her uncharacteristically inelegant way off the ice towards him.

“Hello, Drake.”

“Hi, Lady Kiara. I hope you’re well.”

“Well, aside from a few bruises, I’m doing great. Et toi?”

“Yeah, you should be more careful. You’ll definitely be sore tomorrow.”

“Peut-être. But I plan on taking a bubble bath tonight, so that might help...”

She looked him directly in the eyes as she said this, a small, coy smile on her lips. Drake gulped. 

“Uh, y-yeah, that should, um, do the trick. I’m gonna go on the lift now but enjoy your bath!” He practically yelled that last part. 

Goddamn, I’m out of practice. 

He shuddered at his ineptitude. Why was he acting like this? Sure, he’d never exactly been Don Juan, but he used to be able to talk to girls, damn it!

I don’t know. I guess I’m not sure about Lady Kiara.

He quickly got fitted for his boots and skis, then went on the lift by himself, not feeling up for company. Once at the top of the mountain, he reveled in the deep silence; a silence so complete it was almost palpable, like a heavy blanket. He sensed all his negative thoughts tip toeing out of his mind while he breathed in deeply, sitting down sideways with his skis already on.

A few minutes later, he heard voices slowly coming up the mountain. He looked up and say the whole party approaching the top on the lift. Two by two, they skied off their chairs. He got up with difficulty and got out of their way. Suddenly, his vision was obscured by snow and his clothes splattered with it; he heard a loud, clear laugh. 

Of course she had to spray me. 

He scowled at Riley jokingly. She laughed harder, undeterred by his glare. He couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“So, Addams, you finally made it to the slopes.”

“What’s wrong, Drake?” She put her hand on her hip. “Were you starting to miss me?”

Drake rolled her eyes at her. 

Someone thinks highly of herself. 

“Hardly. I was just getting bored.”

“You didn’t go skating?” Riley asked.

Cool, so she didn’t even notice I wasn’t there. Yeah, that’s fine. 

“Figure skating isn’t really my thing,” he grumbled.

“Really? I think you’d look good in a tutu,” she poked him playfully and giggled.

“Some mental images aren’t worth the effort,” replied Drake, mock horrified.

“I suppose skiing is manly enough for you,” Riley said, gesturing toward the slope nearest them – a blue one – with her pole.

“I’d hardly call what’s going on here skiing,” Drake said scathingly, nodding towards Penelope, who was trying – and failing – to put on her second ski and looked to be seconds away from losing her balance. “But I’m looking to change that. How about a race?”

“What makes you think I can ski?” Riley smirked.

I’ve been so hard on her, how is she even talking to me? She’s actually doing better than any other suitor. 

He decided to go for honesty, “Maybe I’m starting to have faith in you, Addams.”

Riley looked shocked for a second, then a delighted smile spread across her face. “Drake, you’re scaring me with your... niceness.” She eyed him suspiciously.

Drake gave a short laugh. “I’m scaring myself. Anyway, I’m going to start skiing down this slope in a minute, and if I get to the bottom before you... Well, let’s just say I’m calling that a win, and I might never let you hear the end of it.” He turned his back on her and faced the somewhat steep slope in front of them.

He turned his head to look at Riley, who was still struggling with her poles’ straps, which had gotten tangled and winked. “Ready... set... Don’t wipe out!”

He took off with a push of his poles. Faintly, he heard Riley yell, “Hey!” indignantly. He laughed to himself and savored the cool air whipping at his face and the speed he was picking up by the second. 

He heard Riley getting closer behind him and he bent his knees and leaned forward more, trying to gain on her.

“I’m gonna catch you, Drake! You’re gonna eat my dust... er, snow!” she squealed gleefully.

“You talk a lot of game for someone who’s losing, Addams!” he called back to her. When he turned his head back, he barely had time to swerve over a fallen log. He regained control and shouted, ”Watch yourself, Addams!”

He pivoted completely so he could watch her, worried. 

Shit, if something happens to her... Liam’s gonna be pissed.

He needn’t have worried. Riley swerved the log more gracefully than he did, thanks to his heads up, and continued skiing down seamlessly.

“Uh oh,” Drake muttered. Having lost his momentum, he pushed himself off with his poles again, but his speed was nowhere near hers; it was all he could do to keep up with her. They got to the bottom at roughly the same time.

“Not bad, Addams, we���ll call that a draw,” he offered his hand.

“A draw?” Riley slapped his hand away. “You had a head start.”

Drake gave her a smug smile, “I think you meant to say that you had a late start.”

“You just don’t want to admit you lost.” Riley crossed her arms.

“I’m being generous. I had at least a nose or two on you.”

Riley laughed and pushed him playfully. Drake grabbed her arms so she couldn’t push him anymore. They smiled goofily.

“Are you gonna attack me?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On you recognizing that I was the clear winner.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Then yeah, I’m gonna attack you.”

“Okay, how about this, I will admit your skiing skills took me by surprise.”

“In how superior they are to yours?”

“Don’t push it, Addams.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

Drake let go of her hands and breathed in the clean mountain air. “This trip hasn’t been half bad so far. Shame that tomorrow it’s back to waltzing and bowing and all that,” he grimaced.

Riley nodded in agreement, “At least I can ski better than I can waltz... which is barely at all.”

Drake’s eyes widened, “Wait... You can’t waltz? I thought you danced with Liam...”

“Yeah, but he did a lot of the work... Why? Is it important?” she looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her eyes huge and worried. It took everything Drake had not to laugh.

“Oh, Addams, Addams, Addams...” he shook his head with each “Addams”. “What would you do without me? There’s a ball tomorrow. All of the ladies are expected to dance the Cordonian Waltz in front of everyone.”

“Oh...” she tried to shrug nonchalantly; it came off as a nervous tic. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

Drake finally broke down and sniggered. “It’s very complicated.”

Riley glared at him and then shrugged again, more successfully. “No biggie. I’ve survived this far.”

Drake smiled and raised his eyebrows at her. “Whatever you say, Addams.”

“But let’s say I’m curious... How does one dance the Cordonian Waltz?”

She looked so helpless that Drake wished he could learn the dance then and there just so he could teach her. 

Who knew years of ignoring everything the nobles do would bite me in the ass one day? 

“Sadly, I can’t help you there. I don’t know the steps.” He had an idea that would harvest two apples in one go, “You should ask Hana. If anyone knows everything forwards and backwards, it’s that one.”

“Yeah... maybe,” Riley said dubiously. She probably didn’t want to inconvenience Hana... 

Little does she know.

At that moment, the shrill voice Drake had successfully avoided all day broke through the stillness of the mountain. “It’s time to head over to the lodge. I’ve had enough snow for today.” Olivia didn’t seem too thrilled with how her day was going, which only further cheered Drake up. 

He turned to look at Riley and gave her an open smile. “Thanks for the race. I actually had fun.”

“Maybe you’re not as bad as you seem,” she replied teasingly.

Drake rolled his eyes, privately pleased. “You’re going soft on me, Addams.”

“So where does this race leave us? With our bet, I mean,” she asked.

“I guess we’re still on triple or nothing. That is, if you’re up for it.”

“That’s not even a question. I’m not that soft,” she smirked.

They all returned their boots and skis and walked back to the chateau, exhausted.

Olivia directed them into a plush drawing room, where tea and hot chocolate were being served. Drake slumped gratefully on one of the fancy sofas and his friends all followed suit. They were each handed a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows floating in it. Drake sipped it happily. Today had been a good day.

As if echoing his thoughts, Maxwell asked, “Did you have fun today, Riley?”

Drake turned to look at her, trying no to be too conspicuous.

Riley smiled widely, “Today was super fun!” Drake couldn’t be sure but he thought she’d glanced at him when she said that. She probably means with Liam. “And now we have hot chocolate,” she said, drinking some.

“This is wonderful. Look, little marshmallows shaped like hearts!” Hana said excitedly.

Drake was momentarily distracted by Riley, who was licking off her chocolate mustache. He said the first thing that came into his head, “Just... just adorable.”

Before Drake had time to puzzle over what he’d just said, they heard footsteps and Maxwell said, “Watch yourself... We’ve got incoming.”

Olivia came into the room, wearing her signature arrogant smile. “Well, hello, my dear guests. I hope you’re enjoying my spectacular hosting.”

“I always enjoy my time here with you, Olivia...” Maxwell replied diplomatically.

“It’s...” Drake was about to end his sentence with “slightly better than being dead” when he remembered he’d promised Liam he’d be polite, “something.”

Olivia’s smile grew, “Did you see that we have eclairs, Drake? They always remind me of dear, darling little Savannah. She’d gobble them down like a sow at the trough.”

Drake felt the back of his neck grow hot, “Don’t talk about my sister.”

“Why ever not?” said Olivia, a shocked look on her face. “She was such a fixture at court, and then she just up and disappeared. You never told us what happened, and usually gossip is quick to spread.”

Drake balled up his fists, “She left because of people like you.”

Olivia tsk-ed. “She always was the sensitive sort. Ladies like that don’t last long here.”

She kept smiling at him gloatingly and he clenched his jaw. He needed to do something or he would absolutely explode and then Liam would be upset. 

Why did she have to talk about– Wait, that’s it! 

He looked at his phone and, sure enough, he was right on time. He relaxed and got up. 

“You know what? I just remembered, I’ve got somewhere I need to be. If you’ll excuse me...” he bowed at everyone in the room and turned to leave.

“Wait, Drake, dear! Come back! I wasn’t finished with you!” Olivia yelled at his back.

To his utter bewilderment, he heard Riley say angrily – angrier than he’d ever heard her sound, “Olivia, leave Drake alone before I slap that smile off your face.”

She’s... she’s defending me? 

Nobody had ever stood up to Olivia for Drake, at least not to her face. Sure, Liam acknowledged the way she treated him was shitty, but he never really said much to her. He hesitated at the doorway, wanting to say something. But what, thanks? It felt like too much and too little at the same time. He left.

He walked the darkening grounds on his own, thinking about Riley and Savannah. Two women in a similar situation and yet such different approaches. Where Savannah had been sweet and trusting, Riley was... still sweet, but shrewd at the same time. He couldn’t picture her falling for fake friendships or relationships. She knew where she stood.

And here he’d been acting like an asshole, thinking she couldn’t protect herself. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Oh, he’d still keep an eye out for her – these nobles were not to be underestimated – but he figured he could be less of a dick to her now. Maybe even be friends...

His feet had been taking him almost automatically to a clearing he’d noticed earlier while everyone skated. The wind was picking up more and more, but the storm was still some time away. He stood there, waiting for the sky to clear, when he heard footsteps behind him, followed by a decidedly unspooky, “Oooooooo...”

“Who’s there?” Drake asked, although he had a suspicion he knew who it might be.

Riley jumped out from behind a tree with her arms up and yelled, “A GHOST!”

“Riley?” He wasn’t surprised it was her, as he’d recognized her voice, but he was dumbfounded she was there at all. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Riley put her arms down disappointedly. “You don’t scare easily, huh?”

Drake smirked at her. “You’ll have to do better than that. Now answer the question.”

Riley twiddled her thumbs and looked down at her feet. “I saw you going off on your own, close to dark with a storm coming, and... I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She looked up from her feet and made eye contact with Drake. The look in her eyes was so sincere. “After what Olivia said to you... I could see that it struck something inside you.” She stepped forward with an arm outstretched, as if to comfort Drake.

He couldn’t believe his ears. She was looking out for him now? No. She needed to concentrate, to think about the competition and be on her guard with the other suitors. 

Shit, I’m distracting her. She needs to stop wasting her time on me.

“No offense, but you’re the last person I need looking out for me.” 

So much for being less of a dick. 

As per usual, what he said was a lot harsher than he intended.

Riley seemed to agree. She said, “Thanks,” then turned to leave, her face red with embarrassment and anger.

It was Drake’s turn to stretch out his arm, to stop her. He let it fall loosely to his side. “That’s not what I... Oh hell.” He rubbed his face, trying to come up with the words. She didn’t deserve this. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, Addams,” He looked at her earnestly. “I only meant that you shouldn’t have to worry about me. You should only be looking out for yourself.”

Riley’s face returned to its natural expression, though she didn’t seem too happy yet. “What did you come out here to do, exactly?”

Drake thought about explaining and unexpectedly found that he was too tired. It had been a long day for him, emotionally. “If you really want to know... you’ll have to trust me,” he gave her a small smile.

Riley arched an eyebrow. “Trust you? I’d trust you about as far as I can throw you. And you look pretty heavy to me.” She was smiling now, and Drake’s smile mirrored hers.

“Heh. Well, you’re out here alone with me at night, so you must think I’m at least not some kind of murderer.”

She replied, “The thought crossed my mind.”

“Here, I’ll make this easy for you...” Drake walked towards her and gave her a gentle yet firm push. Riley fought valiantly to keep her footing, but she did end up falling on her butt. She looked so offended as he looked up at him and said, “Hey!” that he could barely restrain his laughter.

Without a word he laid down beside her and looked up towards the sky. She noticed and did the same. Drake then decided he’d rather see her face when she saw it; it did not disappoint. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped, she looked absolutely amazed. Her reaction was everything he could have hoped for. She whispered, “Drake...” and turned to look at him.

“Yes, my lady?”

The look of awe on her face was replaced with a radiant smile, “This is absolutely gorgeous.”

Drake looked back up at the luminescent sky, shooting stars streaking past every few seconds. “Nothing beats a clear view of the sky during a meteor shower.”

Riley turned towards him. “I’m glad I didn’t miss this.”

“Really?” said Drake, still looking up. He gathered his courage to ask the next question, “Would’ve figured you’d rather eat bon-bons and dress up tiny dogs, or whatever Olivia had planned for the night.” It was a mocking question, true, but underneath it was real doubt.

Riley shook her head easily. “Not exactly my scene.” He turned to look at her and it seemed like she was being honest. She really would rather be out here with him, than inside playing princess. “Looks like we were just in time to see this before the storm comes.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to miss it.” Before he knew it, the words were spilling out of his mouth, “I used to do this with my younger sister, Savannah, every year.” He looked up with a sad smile. “We grew up around the royals. My dad used to do security for Liam and his brother, and my sister and I were allowed to hang out with them. Liam and I ended up getting close, even though I didn’t have the lineage to merit it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Riley shake her head, but he couldn’t be certain. 

He continued, “Savannah, on the other hand, got along with everyone, and they were all friendly with her. She loved living at the palace when we were kids, being around all the pretty dresses and jewelry...” He smiled fondly, remembering the girl she’d been. He swallowed against the knot in his throat. “But it got harder when she was older.”

Riley was still turned towards him, giving him her full attention, “What happened?”

“She... It was hard on her. She couldn’t take it, I guess.” He struggled to find the words to encompass what Savannah meant to him, how painful it was that she didn’t trust him, how guilty he felt that he hadn’t been there for her... 

“After what happened with...” He didn’t even know what had happened to his own sister, nor who was responsible either! “I... I failed her. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t protect her from this place... or these people.” That about sums it up. 

He dragged his hand across his face, trying to erase everything, feeling shocked at his outburst. Even more shocking was that he didn’t feel embarrassed about it. She was a good listener.

“Sorry, it’s... I guess I’m still not ready to talk about it. This is more than I’ve talked about it with anyone in the last year, actually.”

“Really?” Riley touched his arm. He finally turned sideways to look at her and found her eyes filled with worry. He smiled at her, letting her know he was okay. She smiled back hesitantly. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

Friends? He didn’t know what to say. Like before, the word seemed to involve too much and too little at the same time. He barely knew her, for one. For another, however, he’d just opened up to her in a way he rarely did to anyone else; maybe Liam sometimes, but not lately.

“Friends... I wouldn’t go that far, Addams,” he kept smiling while he said this, hoping to transmit a bit of what he was thinking.

She seemed to understand. “Should we just call it not-enemies, then?”

“I guess I can’t really stop you, can I?”

“Nope,” she replied and pushed him onto his back.

“Hey!”

“Are you kidding? After the way you pushed me before, you owed me!” she said between giggles.

“...Okay, true.”

Their laughs subsided and Riley spoke softly, “You know, I get it.”

“Get what?”

“What it’s like to lose somebody, and feel like you could’ve done more...” She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. 

Drake sat up next to her and waited to hear more. When she didn’t speak for a minute or two, Drake cleared his throat. “Do you want to, uh, talk about it?”

She seemed to come back from far away and then turned to look at him. “Not now, but it’s enough that you’re here, listening.” 

She leaned her head on his shoulder just like Hana had done earlier. For some reason this felt... different. Although he was just as – if not more – surprised as when Hana did it, Drake’s body never froze, as if it expected her to do that; hell, as if she belonged there. 

Okay, stop, the cold is definitely getting to you.

He nudged her gently. “We better get back. It’d be quite the scandal if I let one of the Prince’s suitors freeze to death out here on my watch.”

Her playfulness was back in a second and it felt like it was somebody else who had been thinking that she belonged there, sitting with him. 

This is Addams we’re talking about. Annoying a good 90% of the time. 

“I’d hate for my untimely demise to cause you any difficulty,” she said with horror.

“Not to mention that Maxwell would never let me hear the end of it,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure even Bertrand would be upset, in his own way.”

“Bertrand? He’d only be upset if he couldn’t turn it into some kind of press event.” 

She laughed loudly; it was incredibly contagious. He joined her and found that he didn’t feel as cold anymore. She grabbed his arm for support, still laughing. She finally stopped and took a step back. They shared an amused look that went on for too long. Drake cleared his throat. “Now, let’s go.”

He started walking, leading the way. He’d only taken a few steps when he felt a small, startlingly warm hand in his. He almost ran into a tree. Riley must have noticed his momentary clumsiness because she blushed and said, “For... y’know, safety.”

Drake gulped and nodded. “It’s really slippery out here.”

“Yeah.”

They shared another long look. “We should both be careful,” Drake said, not breaking eye contact. 

In more ways than one.

The smile she gave him didn’t make it clear whether she understood what he meant. “Exactly.”

The journey back seemed to Drake too short altogether. 

I enjoy her company, so what? 

He didn’t know why he was suddenly mad at himself. 

They reached the chateau, still hand in hand.

“Well...” Riley said when they reached the main hall. “This was...”

“Yeah. Addams, I–”

“There you are!” Hana had come in from an adjacent room, looking relieved. They immediately dropped each other’s hand. Drake’s hand felt cold as soon as they did.

Riley turned towards Hana, delighted to see her. “You’re up late.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Her forehead creased with worry. “With you and Drake out there in the storm...”

“I’m sorry we kept you up.” Riley went towards her and hugged her.

Hana patted her back, looking stricken, but pleased. “Oh, I’m just glad you got back before it really started coming down out there!” She turned to look at Drake and he thought there was a question in that gaze, which he decided to ignore. “But you must be freezing, Drake, dressed in just that.”

Drake realized he was, indeed, very cold. He waved goodbye reluctantly. “Yeah. I’m going to go get changed. G’night, ladies.”

It could have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Riley’s face fall a little before they both bid him good night.

#trr #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x mc #prince liam #hana lee #maxwell beaumont #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #pb #fanfic #ch 7 #the marshmallow chronicles #long post

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Midnight Circus pt. 2

☾pairing: Jungkook ♡→  reader ☾genre: Angst. Fluff. Mature content. badboysummerfling au ☾summary: “You’re ten times hotter this summer, you know that?”

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | coming soon

It was a delightful morning, you underestimated the amount of peace there was on a camping ground when night fell. You were fully rested and ready for the day. Everyone hadn't left the cabins yet but those of you who did go to the recreational center for breakfast. You piled the roasted potatoes on your plate and walked back to the table with Nayeon, Jin, Namjoon, and Jennie, everyone else was asleep so you guys left them alone. The weather was nice, breakfast was delicious, Jungkook wasn't here, it was close to perfect.

“After breakfast, I planned some stuff for all us.” Jennie brought the mug to her lips and sipped the bittersweet coffee. “We can get cleaned up then we'll hike up to the springs and eat lunch there, we can swim for a little while too.” When Jennie looked up to see Beah and Naeun we're coming to the table and you braced yourself, you knew who wasn't far behind them. Low and behold, Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook walked in and you sighed—he glanced at you before grabbing a plate for breakfast, his hair was so fluffy and too soft to be his own, you wondered why the worst people have the prettiest features.

“Good morning,” Jimin came to sit next to Namjoon and across from Beah, with a bowl of fruit. Taehyung came to sit next to Beah, putting the seat beside you up for grabs. 

“Did you guys sleep well?” Jennie was really just indirectly asking Jimin. 

“Yeah, I kept hearing a weird sound though like a cat or something...” Tae mumbled and Nayeon nodded in agreement.

“I heard that too,” She gasped, “oh my God, are there wildcats out here?”

You giggled as Jennie tried to convince everyone that there has only ever been one wildcat sighting, most of them weren't convinced. When Taehyung brought up the subject of the 'thing' in the tree outside of his window, you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he was.

“There was not!” Jimin playfully slapped his arm. “You shouldn't have eaten those snacks, you were just seeing things.” 

Jungkook actually chuckled—he, of course, had to sit right next to you. His plate was piled uo like most of the guys but his plates always looked huge. You ate your potatoes, sipped your juice and got up to take your empty plate—you wanted to get away from him before you two started at it again. You grimaced at having to go back to that table, you could practically feel Jungkook looking at you—his eyes as unapologetic as ever when you looked back at him. Feeling your pink pajama shorts lift slightly prompted you to quickly tug them down. You kept your cool and walked to the fruit bar, making a nice bowl of pineapples before taking your seat beside him. It was ridiculous how he kept eyeing you like you didn't notice him staring, he scraped his fork against his teeth and just glared at you.

You ate about three pieces until you saw his greasy fingers stroll into your view, attempting to take one of your pineapples, you smacked his hand, moving your chair farther from him—he is a literal child. He doesn't understand the concept of enemies, he acts like your annoying friend one second and he's pissing you off the next. He giggled, trying to grab it again just to annoy you.

“Stop.” You glared at him—looking down at your pineapples, they didn't even look all that appetizing anymore. 

He had the nerve to scoff, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Why do you have to get worked up over pointless shit like pineapples?” He grabbed the same pineapple he was gonna eat originally and popped it in his mouth. “It's fucking fruit. You need to learn how to share.”

“It's my fruit, and I think you're forgetting that we're not on good terms.” You crossed your arms—you've never glared at anyone with such animosity. “And I don't share with heathens like you...”

“Me? A heathen?” He feigned a look of shock. “You nag about everything, no wonder you never get any-” If he would've finished that sentence you would've strangled him.

“Are you two seriously fighting over a bowl of pineapples?” Namjoon called you two out causing the whole table to stare at the both of you. Of course, you both started defending yourselves, your words clashing together like children trying to prove their points in a feud.

“Hey! We don't want to hear about your pineapples guys,” Jennie spoke up, “let's go get ready for the springs.” At that everyone agreed and got up, leaving their plates and continuing their conversations. As you were storming back to the cabin Naeun came to walk beside you, just skipping along like there was no tomorrow. You thought she was more excited to go swimming and you could understand why—swimming with all of those good-looking guys was pretty exciting but you didn't even think of that. You are going to have a good time, he wasn't about to get the best of you, not now.

You washed up, put on light make up and slid on a pair of jean shorts over your bathing suit. When you tied your hair in a ponytail you got a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, Beah and Jennie were getting ready in the mirror as well. 

“You look cute Y/N,” Jennie looked back at your somewhat uncharacteristically revealing get up, “I don't think Jeon will be able to argue with you in that, honestly you guys would be cute if you could stay in a room without killing each other.” She giggled, the way you grimaced in disgust was priceless.

“You're kidding?” You wanted to vomit—that thought never even crossed your mind, “No, we wouldn't, ugh, don't even think of that. All I see Jungkook as is a means to ruin my life. And FYI he'll lust after anything with boobs so it doesn't matter what any of us wear, he undresses people with his eyes...” They all laughed but it was true, and you were determined not to let him touch any of your friends. 

“I wouldn't mind that entirely.” Naeun walked in, she wore a black one piece with large openings on the sides to show quite a bit of skin. “He’s one of the hottest guys in school, and you get to fight with him.” She snickered.

“First of all, that's gross. Second of all, he's not ugly, that's all I have to say about his looks.” Everyone was in their swimsuits, had their bags with shoes, extra clothes and some snacks. When the five of you walked out the boys were already waiting for you guys outside of their cabin.

Jin stretched. “So how long is the hike?” 

Jennie pulled out a can of bug spray and offered some to everyone before spraying her legs and arms. “Like 15 to 20  minutes, it's not that long. Since I’m leading the hike, I’ll do it like my aunt does it. Everyone can grab a buddy to walk with so we don’t get separated!” She cut her eyes to you before smirking, she was doing this on purpose. 

You had your eye on Jimin but Nayeon beat you to it, your next option was Jin but Jennie purposely walked with him since they were the oldest. Namjoon walked with Beah, Tae walked with Naeun. When you looked around you saw everyone had a partner and followed Jennie into the woods, and of course, you were at the end of the line—with him.

“Jen!” You shouted from the back running up beside her, “Can I-”

“You and Jungkook are partners, you can’t third wheel with me now go back.” She shooed you away, you’ve never felt more betrayed in your life. They all walked by, talking and smiling as Jungkook was walking towards you, an innocent look on his face.

You didn't talk to him, you minded your own business and he his own—you had to admit he was actually somewhat of an enjoyable partner. 

The sound of the flow of water signaled that you guys were close to the water. It was a large body of water, the water was blue and sparkly. There was no one else at the springs and that was kind of odd.

“How come it's so empty?” Naeun began stripping off her top and you couldn't help but look fondly at the way Jimin applied sunscreen to his face like an angel.

“Yeah, it's so nice out here, I thought it'd be packed...” Namjoon took a seat on the benches near the showers and changing rooms. 

“Huh, um,” She mumbled, setting down her back pack. “this place doesn't open until twelve but I got permission to come in earlier.” She smiled, strolling over to the showers and you followed her. 

“I don't want to swim...” You crossed your arms, eyeing her bitterly.

She scoffed. “Yes you do, stop sulking. I'm sorry I stuck you with Jungkook but you guys are ridiculous.” She rinsed off in the icy cold water for a few seconds then tied her hair in a ponytail. “I know you hate him but you should let loose, have a little fun.” She winked, skipping off the short dock to swing off the rope hanging from the large tree towering over the water. 

“The water is so warm! Hurry up guys!.” She shouted from the water as she swam around, urging us to hurry up. Everyone was about to get in the water, they were all stripping to their swimsuits and suddenly you didn't want to take off your cover-up. 

“Y/N, can I use some of your sunscreen? Yours doesn't irritate my skin.” Nayeon extended her hand and you dug into your backpack before handing it to her. She was wearing a cropped rash guard but she still lathered her self in sunscreen, she was a stickler about how damaging sun could be to your skin.

“You think you put on enough sunscreen?” Beah took off her top and shorts, showing her light purple two piece to with ruffles all over it. “She's not gonna have any left in the bottle if you keep using it.” She laughed handing it back to you, she was a sweetheart when it came to taking care of you and so you naturally always repaid the favor. When you come to think of it, her bathing suit fit her bubbly personality. Naeun, on the other hand, wore the exact opposite, a black cut out suit that was cheeky and tight—that was only for the thrill seekers to showcase. 

She walked with a bit of a twitch in her hips, just to show off a little before Nayeon tackled her into the water, the sister water fight began. “I'm gonna kill you!” She jokingly shouted splashing around as Jin was playfully defending the younger girl.

“Are you coming in?” Beah reached out her hand, seeing you were still in your shirt and shorts. “You're still in your cover-up...” She tilted her head.

“I'm coming, go ahead, I'll just be a second.” You smiled ushering her to go and have a good time and after a few seconds of convincing, she was in the water. Namjoon was the only one not getting in the water, he opted to read a book.

Let loose she says, have fun she says, you can't even get a little bit of sympathy from one of your best friends—you were truly in this alone. With a heavy exhale you pulled off your shirt, then stepped out of your shorts. You couldn't help but feel like everyone was looking at you, even if it was perfectly normal for humans to swim half naked with each other you were a bit nervous to do so.

At this very moment, you wanted to run over to Jimin and splash around like a giddy teenager, just for the thrill of that so-called summer lovin’. As you applied a decent amount of sunscreen you realized Jungkook wasn't in the water, you looked back and he was taking off his shirt—you cursed yourself for staring for so long. You would never tell him this but he was so beautiful, as a human being you found him so pretty. 

He must've noticed your gaze so he came up to you, his brows furrowing as he shamelessly checked you out. For some reason, the first thing that came to his mind when he saw you wasn't disgust. He assumed it was because of the swimsuit, maybe your body was enough to distract him from everything else.

“Wow.” He cooed, briefly twiddling with the strings on your top, it felt as if he were about to untie it and you jerked away in a slight panic. “Holy shit, I actually don't hate the sight of you right now, I didn't know all of this was under-”

Instantly your hands went to tie it tighter and you glared at him. “Will you just leave me alone? Go drown or something...” Sure, you sounded harsh to anyone listening but this kind of talk was normal with him—you couldn't imagine talking to him any other way. You've said worse to each other anyway.

“Ouch. At least I have something to talk about later...Jimin will be flattered to hear you put this much effort in this skimpy little get up for him- and nice ass by the way.” He cackled at the thought of potentially discussing your body with the guys—how could he resist not mentioning it to your crush, Jimin.

“What is your problem,” You hissed, “have you ever seen a girl in a swimsuit before?” There was a long moment of just staring at each other before you just rolled your eyes.

“We're about to play water volleyball, everybody get on a team.” Jimin smiled, taking your breath away with a simple expression you just nodded.

“Okay, I'll be on- ah!” 

Jungkook jumped into the water behind you, splashing everyone around you in his wake. He swam away like he was innocent, you expected that behavior though, he was so predictable.

“I'll be the outside hitter.” He spoke, pushing his hair back as the water dripped down his body, glistening like he was out of a film. Lucky for you he went to the other side, It was you, Jimin, Nayeon, and Jin on one side and the others took their places on the other side

“Jimin, do you wanna be the outside hitter?” Naturally, that's the position you wanted but you were willing to sacrifice your favorite spot if that's what he wanted.

“No, it's okay.” He rubbed your shoulder before swimming over to the other side, “you're a great outside hitter, I've seen you at your practices.” 

“Okay...” He's seen me play? You stopped a few months ago but sometimes you'll fool around with your friends, he's actually noticed you before. Jungkook was pretty good at any sports but he was especially good at anything involving his arms. He was the left side hitter.

“Jungkook! You serve!” Tae handed Jungkook the ball and he severed.

You had never taken a game more seriously in your life. He purposely aimed the ball at you so it would potentially go out and that pissed you off, everytime it was his turn to serve he'd aim it in your direction; spiking it harder than he should have. After about thirty minutes in you declared you had enough, I'm ending this...

“Mine!”

You lunged for the ball, finally hitting it over the net with enough force and speed that none of them were fast enough to stop it. Jungkook looked livid, He couldn't stand to lose, especially to you.

“We won! We won!” You jumped, probably way to excited for this not to be a real game—it was just nice to rub a victory in Jungkooks face for once. “Yay!” Jimin dipped under the water to go between your legs and lift you up on his shoulders, parading you around as the teams ace. 

“Jimin!?” You giggled in surprise—your heart fluttering in excitement, Park Jimin was holding you on his shoulders, those warms hands keeping you secure as your hands rested atop his head; could this moment get any better–

“The ball was out of bounds, you guys didn't win.” Jungkook retorted, looking upon you like you were the scum of the earth.

“Stop being a swore loser Kookie! We won.” Jin defended the team causing everyone to strike up the conversation of who won.

“No, you didn't, I'm not fucking blind, it was out- Hyung! Was that ball in or out!?” Jungkook shouted to Namjoon who was too immersed in his book to notice the game, he shrugged without a clue.

“It doesn't matter what Namjoon saw, it was in! Fair and square. You're just mad because there was actually a ball you couldn't get.” You managed to work your way off of Jimin and topple over into the water. You were trying to get the water out of yours eyes—it was ridiculous really, but you had to defend your honor.

“It doesn't matter who won,” Jennie began to get out of the water along with Taehyung and Naeun, “all that matters is that we had fun.” She tried to reason with Jungkook but he was swimming to the dock so he could get out and his ears were flushed in vexation.

“Hell, if you didn't spike like fucking tweety bird maybe it would've been easier to decipher the real winner.” He muttered trying to beat you over the edge, you could feel him getting closer to you before you decided to throw yourself over the ledge to get out. “In fact, the ball was out multiple times and you guys took the points anyway-”

“Fine.” You threw the wet ball at him with enough force to hurt but he, unfortunately, caught it. “You win, happy? You're so childish, I swear...” It was true. He didn't like to lose, he couldn't stand the thought of you beating him at anything, ever. You were convinced he had a power complex, it would explain a lot. Drenched from head to toe you walked over to Namjoon who was observing you and Jungkooks little squarell. Without a word, you took a seat next to him.

“Who wants snacks?” Tae had dried himself off then opened up his backpack, revealing the many treats he had bought on the way here. Tae and Beah both brought enough snacks for everyone, you decided you'd get some wfter you got a little dry; this suit was cut but it was sticking in places you rather it not.

“I'm gonna go change, I'll be back.” You excused your soaking form from the benches, scurrying over to the changing rooms and closing it. You took of your sandals off stand on the wooden floor, you squeezed out your hair, letting it fall from the ponytail and onto your shoulders. Fiddling with the strings on your suit, you paused. “Shoot, I didn't even bring a towel.”

“Give it back!” You heard Jin shout from outside of the restrooms and you heard someone run in here. Jungkook suddenly barged into your changing room and before you could even sound a protest he pushed you in the corner, a huge grin on his face. 

“What the h-” He clamped a hand over your mouth, the little bit of water from your suit still dripping down your skin as you held up your top.

“Shh.” He furrowed his brows when he heard Jin come in, muttering under his breath.

“Jungkook?” Jin knocked on the door, “Are you in there!? Give me back my shoes.”

He was actually pleading with you, or threatening, you couldn't tell. Surely he didn't think you were actually gonna be quite—he was the last person you'd try to save. He whispered. “Talk to him.” 

Not to get off subject but he smells like a weird musk—you've never been this close to him until now, he smelled like the ocean and a musky cologne. Your eyes traveled down to his bare chest, he was barely centimeters from you and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You pulled his hand from your mouth so you could respond—I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

“No,” You glared at him, “it's just me.” 

“Okay, if you see him let me know.” Hearing his footsteps grow farther you pushed Jungkook away from you and he burst into laughter, cackling like a fool. Why he found this so hilarious is beyond me but he needs to get out of here. He laughed, leaning back against the door relieved. “Shit, that was close.”

Inhaling deeply, you gritted your teeth. “You are literally a little bitch, you're always trying to ruin my life in one shape or form. You owe me one.” You turned him around and opened the door, trying to push him out but he was far stronger than you—he turned back around and shut the door behind him.

“Wow,” He feigned surprise, “I've never been called a little bitch by a girl before.” He looked you up and down, the corner of his lips raising as his eyes skimmed over your figure, suddenly remembering how similar bikinis looked to underwear, you were basically standing there in your underwear.

“You came in here to dry off?” He quirked his brow.

“No I came in here looking for the pool.” You exaggerated your sarcasm, he was really trying you today. “Obviously, Jungkook. Now get out.”

 “You didn't even bring a towel, dumbass.” He took the towel he slung over the side, and tossed it at your chest. “Here.”

“I don't want your towel.” You threw it back at him, and he actually had the nerve to look hurt—his body parts have rubbed this towel, you weren't about to dry off with it.

“Take it.” He extended his hand but you shook your head no—knowing how persistent he was it wasn't a surprise that he tongued at his cheek in annoyance. He shook the towel out and threw it over your head, chuckling at your temporary struggling.

“Hey! I don't want it!-” Before you could throw it back he left, how could you dry yourself off with this—then again you didn't have much of a choice. You had to suck it up—you were half way dry by now but you finished drying yourself off, out of curiosity you smelled the towel, it didn't really smell like anything, just fabric softener, that kind of soothed your worries.

You slipped on your shorts and draped the towel over your shoulders, leaving the dressing room to go to the tables where everyone was eating. Jungkook was eyeing you subtly, not making it obvious that he was looking as he ate snacks and drank a cola. He took the wet can and held it to his lips, tilting the bottle up so the ice cold liquid would trickle into his mouth—some of it seeped from the corner of his lips, streaming down his chin and almost to his tanned chest before he wiped it away. 

That had to be the prettiest he's ever looked, anytime you weren't talking he was nice to look at. You'd look at him and remember how much you despised him, how many times he's messed with you just because he felt like it. When you remembered that, that pretty face wasn't so pretty anymore.

He watched you take a seat on a separate bench and boy you had never looked so ethereal. It must've been the heat, or the water, or something, there had to be some reason for his sudden interest in your appearance. But whatever reason it didn't matter, he knew you despised him and he hated you but a relationship based solely on the physicality's didn't sound so bad to him—what am I thinking, he shook his head to himself.

You wrapped yourself in the towel and strolled over to your bag, pulling out your water and phone. It was past noon, just a few hours until sunset, you were already feeling sleepy from the water and you wanted to shower.

“Jen,” You walked over to pat her shoulder, “can we head back?” 

“Uh, sure, is everyone ready to go?” She announced, receiving a sound of agreement from the boys. As they packed up you stood near the path to the cabins, your bag in hand and the shower on your mind.

“After we get washed up we'll start the camp fire!” 

“You guys suck.” You lightly kicked the door, storming off in a mild tantrum. Naeun and Beah took the showers, Jennie and Nayeon went to her aunts personal showers and here you are, on the steps sulking. How they managed to get in there first was beyond you, you were so determined but ultimately failed. 

Taehyung walked out of the cabin, stretching his arms and exhaling—judging by his damp locks he had just showered. “Y/N, you're still in your suit?” He came up to you, tilting his head a bit.

“All of the showers are taken...” You grumbled.

“You can use our showers, come on.” 

“It's okay, really I'll-” He grabbed your arm pulling you towards the door and not guving you much time to grab your stuff. As soon as he opened the door you realized just what you were about to do. All of the boys were in here. Taehyung could be so innocent at times, so you weren't sure what you were walking into.

Namjoon, Jin and Jimin were watching tv in the living room and looked to the door as you emerged from behind it—they didn't think much of it though, it was normal for one girl to shower in the boys cabin, I guess...

“The bathroom to your right, we have an extra towel if you need it.” He was so genuinely kind, if it had been anyone else offering you would've said no. But Tae had a way with words.

“Thanks...” You walked into the bathroom, there was no lock on the door so you had to make this as quick as possible. You quickly stripped, throwing your clothes to the floor and closing the curtain—the warm water washed off any impurities caused by the water and you sighed in content.

“Where's my shampoo!?” He shouted for one of his hyungs, when he realized none of them were gonna answer he stepped out of the shower, searching the counter and drawers for it as he littered the floor with water, then he remembered—I showered in the other bathroom last night. So he just had to go get it, he took his white towel from the back of the door and wrapped it around his waist. 

He left a trail of water and as soon as he made it to the other bathroom he didn't bother knocking, he just barged right in—meanwhile, the opening of the door was almost enough for you to scream but you bit your tongue, who just walked in here knowing you were showering? Your eyes went wide in panic, that can't be him...

“Hyung, did you use my shampoo?” He mumbled almost incoherently, that's Jungkooks voice—great. “I think I left it in here last night.”

He thought you were Tae, luckily he wasn't phased when you neglected to respond. It was a miracle he didn't see your clothes on the ground if he had you knew he would've said something. You heard the zipping and unzipping of cosmetic bags and you couldn't bear to peek out, in fear he might see you and you'd die from embarrassment. The urge to look was far too great so you looked past the curtain and there he stood, wet hair, with a towel on—this situation would look really bad if someone were to walk in. You saw his silhouette get closer to the curtain and you prayed the shampoos would miraculously appear.

“Hyung, did-” He paused, “oh, I found it.” He took it from the side of the tub.

Finally, he left the bathroom with a little singsong hum. And you let out a tightly held in sigh, that had to be the scariest thing to happen to you since you've been here.

Tae was walking by with a cup of juice to his lips and he nearly choked on it when Jungkook stood in front of the bathroom door, it really did look bad.

“Um, Jungkook, whatcha doin?” He gave him an awkward smile, seeing Jungkook half naked, walking out of the bathroom you were in.

Jungkook nearly had a heart attack. “I thought you were-...if you're not in there than who's?-”

“Y/N is in there, the other showers were taken over at her cabin so I offered ours.” He was nonchalant, walking back into the living room, leaving Jungkook red-faced—that red face quickly turned into a smug look.

All he could think about was what you were gonna say when you came out, they decided to play a game of Uno at the girl's cabin but you hadn't come out the bathroom yet—maybe she's embarrassed? No.

“Y/N, can you bring the popcorn over here?” Nayeon brought Jungkook out of his train of thought and he nearly broke his neck trying to look back at you.

“Ok.” You went to drop your stuff on your bed, she was too into the game to get up and get it herself I guess. By the sound of a voice, you assumed everyone was here, including Jeon. It really wasn't a big deal, all he did was walk in on you while you were showering, there wasn't much harm in that. You made your way to the kitchen, pulling out a bowl and grabbing the popcorn from the snack bag, pouring it out to bring to the group. 

“Here you go- where's Jennie?” You looked around just now realizing she wasn't in here. 

“She's setting up the fire.” Beah gestured to the window where you could see her from the side. This was the perfect getaway so you wouldn't have to be in Jungkooks presence. 

“Hi Mrs. Yoo, how are you?” Immediately she came to give you a hug.

“Y/N, look at you! You're all grown up now!” The three of you laughed in unison, she had no idea. “Is that you're boyfriend?” She glanced behind you, instinctively you looked to who she was gesturing to, I wish. You shook your head no and Jimin proceeds to talk to Namjoon in the door way.

“Y/N, help me set up the chairs.” She beckoned you to come and you were more than happy to do so when you saw everyone trickling outside one by one.

You began to unfold the lawn chairs and she could've sworn there was a slight blush on your cheeks. She looked around, trying to conclude the source of it but she didn't have a clue.

“What's up with you?” She decided she'd ask bluntly.

“What'd you mean? There's nothing up with me.” As convincing as you thought you were she only shook her head in disbelief.

“Then why are you blushing?” 

“It's hot outside, it's natural for a face to get flushed. Why're you so suspicious...” You left it on that and she didn't bother you anymore after that. That night began, we roasted meat and vegetables over the fire for dinner but what we all really wanted was the smores. Jungkook kept looking at you, you didn't know if it was a coincidence but his eyes lingered a little too long for comfort. Maybe he was glaring at you, you couldn't imagine his reason for doing that though. It's not like I barged in on him while he was showering- wait, could the infamous fuckboy of the century be flustered? Normally he'd be running that big mouth of his about it but he hadn't said a thing. It really shouldn't have but you felt a tinge of control from that thought, deep down he really was just a boy.

“Who wants to play a game. Truth or dare Or never have I ever?” Namjoon spoke up, “Or spin the bottle?” smiling from ear to ear with a can of beer in hand. The sun had finally set, some of them had their blankets and others sat gawking at the deep blue night sky.

“Sounds fun.” Naeun added.

“I’m not playing spin the bottle.” You scoffed, tipping up your bottle to swallow the sweet and bubbly liquid. 

“Everybody has to play! That means you Y/N.” 

“We’ll start with never have I ever, I’ll go first.” Jin sat up, setting his bottle aside and raising up his hands. “Never have I ever had a hang over.” 

Of course Jungkook’s finger went down, Naeun, Jimin, and Namjoon went down too. 

“Never have I ever killed anyone.” Jimin went. All fingers were up.

“Never have I ever been incarcerated.” Beah went. 

The game continued on with simple questions but like you expected the questions got continuously dirty and you seemed to be the only person with all of your fingers up.

Jungkook cleared his throat, he had 6 fingers up and you found that to be hilarious.

“You’re turn Y/N.” Jennie shoved at your shoulder for you to go.

“Um, never have I ever, um, gone skinny-” 

“Wait, you’re fingers are all still up?” Jungkook had to point you out. “There has to be something you've done, damn.” He snorted, provoking you to say something.

Your expression soured. “I didn't know it was a crime to not do everything under the sun.” You looked to his especially. 

“Let's play truth or dare.” That was a random subject change—you knew he had some bad intentions for this game.

You smirked, you remembered something that would definitely be a good to shut him up about you. “Jimin,” You asked sweetly, batting your lashes, “truth or dare?”

“Hmm...” He placed a finger on his chin in thought. “Truth.”

“That one day Jungkook skipped the biology test and you vouched for him, saying he had a stomach virus, what really happened?”

By the sounds of Jimin's nervous laughter, you could tell this was gonna be good.

“Um...” He sort of looked to Jungkook for approval, but all the maknae did was glare. “I won't tell everything but let's just say he wasn't at the mental and physical readiness for a test.” He thought he was safe with a save like that but you shook your head, Jungkook was about to shoot you for this.

“That's one way to put it but that's not the truth Jimin, where was he exactly? I know his parents were out of town that week.” You questioned.

She is so fucking petty.

“He was sick but it wasn't a stomach virus, it was from some bad weed, so he was kind of sick and high.” Jimin finally let out the truth, you couldn't help but laugh, it was so ironic for something like that to happen to him.

“Hyung, you promised...” Jungkook looked to him, whining with a pouty lip. 

“I'm sorry Jungkook but you have to admit it, you had it coming.” Jin shrugged.

“You can't smoke weed on the day of a test.” Jennie shook her head, giggling at the thought and visual.

The guys bursted into laughter, Jungkook kind of laughed a bit, it was no big deal to him now. He beat the hell out of the guy who sold it to him though. When he glanced over at you he got to thinking, you actually knew why he wasn't at school, because he asked you if your mom had any medicine for food poisoning or something like that—if this is how she wants to play then that's how we'll play.

“Truth or dare?” Naeun looked to you—these games have quickly become entertainment for everyone to watch you and Jungkook bicker.

“Dare.”

“Since you and can't seem to leave each other alone I think you two should do some bonding, I dare you to...” She looked around, eyes darting here and there before smiling at her brilliant idea. “Sit on his lap for the rest of the night.” 

“What?! No!”

“Im offended.” Jungkook put his hand on his heart. “And you can't refute a dare, but if my lap scares you that much...” He wanted this, you could tell by the way he bit his bottom lip—if this is what it takes to prove a point to him you concluded that that's what you were gonna do. Surprising everyone, and even yourself by surprise when you put down your blanket and walked over to him.

“Nothing about you scares me Jungkook.” As foreign as it felt, with as much confidence as you could muster you stood right in front of him. “Move your hand.” You swatted his hand off of his thigh and he gave you a cocky grin. When you sat your bare legs over his ripped jeans you could feel an unfamiliar nervous feeling in your stomach. It's like the rest of the night was a blur, his hands hadn't dared to touch you, knowing he'd get cursed out if he tried something. Somewhere in the night you found yourself relaxing into him, all of those hateful thoughts about him sort of vanished—maybe it was summer heat.

It was funny how he could tell you weren't completely disgusted by him, he would even go so far as to say you liked it—he'd be lying if he said he didn't. You guys didn't make it awkward, you kept your distance while at the same time making each other somewhat satisfied. He was battling his natural instinct to grab your waist and pull you closer but then he realized just who you were, and why you were sitting here. This was a dare, you were sitting on his lap because of dare and for some reason that made him upset. He wasn't used to physical restrictions, if he wanted you he had you—as simple as that. Why were you so confusing to him? Why did he hate your guts but at the same time love the small scrunch in your nose when you get flustered—maybe it was the heat.

Whatever it was, it was making you look too good to not say anything. 

“I'll be back.” You got up to go to the bathroom and Beah went with you. When you got out you expected her to be in the other but she was waiting for you.

“I thought you had to-”

“I'm so shocked, I never thought I'd see you sitting on Jungkooks lap, you looked like you were enjoying yourself.” That's why she came with me. 

“I wasn't enjoying myself but I was dared to, it doesn't mean anything.”

You two walked back outside. “Yeah, but I thought you hated him, like, for real hated him.” You laughed a little, you didn't know it looked like you disliked him that much.

“I do. But I'm trying to prove a point, I'm not intimidated by him and he isn't as irresistible as he thinks.” 

“Wow, this is-” The buzz of your phone cut your comment on the movie short. “My mom is calling, I'll be right back.” You got up from your comfortable spot on the couch to talk outside. 

“Hello?” You answered, still walking to the small wooden dock, sitting on the edge with your feet dangling over the edge. 

“Hi honey, how're you?” 

“I'm good, how's the cruise?”

Well isn't this just a coincidence. Jungkook was on the over side of the dock, taking a late night swim to clear take his mind off of a certain something. Ever since you left the campfire he couldn't get you off of his mind, he didn't want to say he missed you but he wished you would've stayed longer on his lap. A mischievous idea came to his head.and being the impulsive person he was he decided to act on it.

“Yeah, love you too, bye.” How could they talk to you so happily when they kicked you out of a family vacation—you tossed your phone out of the way and sighed.

“Huh...” You leaned back, kicking your feet in the water, smiling at the reflection of the moon, it was a full moon tonight. 

He swam as quitely as possible under the dock, unbeknownst to you he was looking at your legs kick back and forth, you were so oblivious.

“Agh!!” You screamed, something grabbed onto your ankle and you tried to jump up and run—you fell in. 

He was laughing and at the same time trying to keep you from drowning as you flailed around violently—almost hitting him in the face when he tried to grab your arms. Water went up your nose you started coughing, not really knowing who you were clinging to but at least you weren't drowning. “Hey, calm down, it's just me baby.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you against him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and finally got a good look at the person responsible for you falling into this water. Jungkook, that face of his was pretty and glowy like the moon and for a second you just stared at him, realizing that his bare skin was now pressed against you. 

“W- why are you swimming at 12 o'clock at night, in the lake, that's dangerous.” You got out of his grip and threw yourself over the dock. 

“Do you really want to know?” He crossed his arms up, grinning at you like a guilty child. 

“Wait...are you naked?-” You looked behind you, seeing his clothes sitting in a pile—he's skinny dipping, by himself?

“Why don't you come in and find out...” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You sneered.

Instead of verbally responding he pushed himself out of the water, giving you a sense of relief when you saw his swimming trunks. He sat beside you, leaning back on his hands and sighing in content. 

“I'm leaving.” You didn't want to be out here with him any longer so you were about to get up and leave but he placed a hand on your thigh.

“You know, skinny dipping by yourself is no fun...you wanna join me?...” 

“You're gonna get amoeba swimming in this lake, and I'm gonna be laughing at your funeral...” You could be so harsh with your insults for him. When he didn't come back at you with an insult just as bad you looked at him confused by his unusual character. When you looked to him he had a thoughtful expression, his eyes dropped to your legs then up to your face

“You looked so good today...” That was sudden. You swallowed, your cheeks flushing at the comment. “Honestly, I wanted to rip that damn bikini right off of you, fuck. You kept flaunting your little cute ass around, it’s like you were practically begging me to do something. And I couldn't stop looking at your ass, your whole body in general- you have a really nice butt though-”

You cut him off. “Why're you telling me this? You can't even stand me, where's all this coming from?...”

“The heat, I guess.” He laughed a little, his nose scrunching adorably. “Yeah, let's say it's the heat baby girl...” His finger tips ghosted over your cheekbones before cupping your cheek, pulling you into a languid kiss. Not even giving you time to protest he hastily deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing at your own and boldly urging you to move more. He tasted like honey, sweet and too much at once—his lips had never even crossed your mind, and now they were on yours, stealing your self control. He placed your hands on his chest and his hands went to your sides, kneading you like he had never felt anything so soft. 

He was taking your breath away, literally he wouldn't let up so you couldn't take in a single breath without panting. Still assaulting your lips, he harshly grabbed your waist, forcing you to lay down on the rough wood as he adjusted your thighs to sit one knee in between them, your clothed body was rubbing against his bare chest, exciting him in ways he couldn't quite explain—but he loved it. He trapped you underneath him, causing your heart to skip a beat when you caught a glimpse of his eyes—his eyes were so mysterious right now, they said so much but at the same time neglected to say anything at all.

He went back at it again, tugging your bottom lip between his own, and switching the angle he was in to make it last. When he finally pulled away he giggled before dropping to the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his neck and you let him kiss you for a few seconds until you realized what he was really doing. He attacked your neck, like you'd expect of a teenage boy with raging hormones. “Hey, don't, you're gonna leave a mark...” The more you pushed at his chest the more he resisted to be pushed away, he was seriously trying to leave a big ass hickey on your neck. You managed to push him off, he was a panting and smiling mess, trying to get up but you pinned him down.

“Are you serious?” Your hand went to your neck, you could already tell it was probably a little bit noticeable. 

“What?” He feigned ignorance.

You sighed. “You are such a pain, I don't know why I let your dirty hands touch me...If this bruises, I swear, you're gonna get it Jungkook.” You walked back to your cabin dripping wet and cold, coming in quietly, you the girls were are asleep—you knew they couldn't hang. 

Jungkook decided to go back to his cabin, he dried his body off as best as he could before walking back inside. All of the guys were up and he couldn't escape passing them on his way to the shower.

“Jungkook, where were you?” Tae was the first to ask. 

“I went for a swim.” Tae thought nothing of it and went back to the movie, but Namjoon was watching and he knew something was up so he got up to follow Jungkook to the bathroom.

“Jungkook, you went for a swim? Alone?” He stood in the doorway, urging Jungkook to elaborate his explanation. “Yeah, in the lake.” He tight lip grinned, trying to close the door to stop any more questions—but Namjoon had to chuckle at that blatant half-truth. “Jungkook, you know I could see you on the-” 

“Goodnight Hyung~” Jungkook hummed sarcastically, waving as he closed the bathroom door.

Coconut? He picked up the coconut scented body wash and the corner of his lip crooked up at the bottle. He popped the cap to smell it and he knew that fragrance—that's the body wash you use. That's why you always smelled so good, it was this body wash. When he thought back to just a few moments ago, you were just dangling your feet in the water and you fell in, the moment picked you up was unforgettable.

Your eyes were so dreamy and innocent—that very moment had to be one of the prettiest things he's ever seen.

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts summer au #bts imagines #bts summer #yoongi #namjoon #jin #hoseok #taehyung #omg I went overboard #but I love it #jeon jungkook #midnight circus #bts fling au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #if you've read di piano e forte u know I love me some coconut