#was really bothered by the press coverage and i think this was part of the reason why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future updates!

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #my writing #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

More or Less

Day 17, Story #2 is by @bavalon18

Theme: You Did What?!

Title: More or Less

Rating: Teen

Canon Pairing: implied Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Trio Friendship

Summary: Harry engages in some “locker room” talk and immediately regrets it.

Trigger Warning: A character makes a comment that is homophobic or at the very least, implies being LGBTQ+ is a choice but that character is an asshole.

Harry groaned, stretching his neck and pulled his robes out of his locker.

“Not the young guy anymore, hey Potter,” asked Sam Abears, his dueling partner from that morning with a smile.

“Oi! I’ve barely cracked my twenties,” Harry laughed. “But yeah, that last jinx kicked my arse. Nice one.”

“Thanks,” the younger auror smiled. Harry chuckled to himself. Given how much he had enjoyed leading the DA, he shouldn’t have been surprised that he got a lot of satisfaction out of the mornings he spent training the newest recruits. Being Harry Potter was a real annoyance at times but as he got older, he had learned how to use his influence and reach. Deserved or not, he knew that his praise resonated strongly with these trainees and it seemed to motivate them through some of the tough stretches in their training.

“Out of practice, Potter?”

Okay, so not all of the trainees were impressed with him.

Abears rolled his eyes at the voice. “I was giving him a hard time, Moore. He was probably taking it easy on me.”

Mathias Moore strutted into the locker room, towel around his waist. A Slytherin four years behind Harry at Hogwarts, he didn’t share the Death Eater sympathies that many of Harry’s classmates had but he shared many of their personality traits. He was part of the same training class as Abears and was, to put it kindly, a total prat.

“Maybe it’s more that he’s out of shape. Not getting the same exercise he was before,” Moore smirked.

Of course, Moore’s big mouth attracted the attention of several others in the area. “He’s getting the same exercise as you,” piped up another auror, Titus Learn. “You think Potter is shirking the exercise regimen?”

“I mean, we all saw that article right? Potter’s girlfriend is sooo busy, off with the other little Harpies,” said Moore.

Harry sighed. This was always the road of ribbing that Moore went down. Ginny had been incredibly busy but even with the busy road schedule, ambitious training and all of the press coverage, she made time for him and kept their relationship a priority. Not that it was anyone’s damn business.

“Not to overstep Potter but she looked pretty amazing in that Quidditch Weekly spread. I’m a bit jealous,” said Learn. A couple other aurors made noises of agreement.

“She did that shoot with that hot new blonde chaser who was bragging that she’s into birds. Maybe Potter’s girlfriend stayed on the Harpies but switched teams.”

“Ugh, not okay mate,” said Abears.

“I’m just saying, three years on the Harpies… maybe she’s more into quaffles than brooms now,” snickered Moore.

“Don’t worry Moore, Ginny is spending plenty of her time riding on my broom,” Harry shot back. The group that had been observing him and Moore burst into laughter and catcalls.

“Harry!”

Harry froze at the sound of the voice, sharp and familiar over the laughter still surrounding him. He was a complete idiot. In his anger, he had completely forgotten the fact that his best friend would likely be using the exact same locker room. Harry slowly turned around. “Yeah?”

“Stop yapping and hurry up,” barked Ron, running a hand through his wet hair. “Hermione’s going to have my bollocks if I’m late to meet her for lunch. Meet me outside.” And with that, Ron left the locker room.

Fuck.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Five minutes later, Harry slunk out of the locker room to find his friends talking quietly. Maybe Ron didn’t even hear what I said.

“Finally,” huffed Hermione. Ron was next to her, frowning. Oh yeah, he heard me. “You know that if we wait until noon to leave, the waits at all the restaurants are a nightmare.”

“Sorry, sorry,” apologized Harry, falling into step behind them.

They all entered the half full lift and Hermione pushed the button for the main lobby. As the lift whizzed through the ministry, Hermione seemed to have relaxed and was happily chattering about a meeting that she had that morning. Harry studied Ron carefully. He seemed okay now; in fact, Ron was gazing at Hermione with the lovestruck look he always got when she went on a particularly passionate tear. I'm such an idiot. Moore’s comment was so ridiculous; I should have just let it go. But no, I had to shoot my mouth off. Maybe I should consider bowing out of lunch. Give Ron an opportunity to be totally distracted by Hermione and he’ll forget I said -

“Harry! Come on,” said Hermione, looking exasperated.

Harry’s shoulders slumped. There was no way out of this now. Hermione was irritated and if he tried to stay back, she was going to demand to know why. Defeated, he trailed after them.

As they stepped on the streets of Muggle London, Ron slung an arm around Hermione and they resumed their conversation with Harry quietly walking alongside them.

“Mortimer’s?” Hermione asked, pointing at the small sandwich shop they were in front of.

Harry was about to agree but then looked at his friends and a memory sprung to mind. “Uh, no,” he cringed.

Hermione let out a growl of frustration. “Harry…”

“What about the curry place you like two doors down?” Harry suggested quickly. He really couldn’t afford to piss Hermione off as well. He needed her on his side when Ron inevitably went off.

“I thought you weren’t a fan of that place,” she replied, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“Sounds good today,” Harry said. Hermione glanced at Ron, who shrugged and led the way.

A few minutes later, they were seated and Harry was looking at the menu when he felt eyes in him. He glanced up to see Hermione studying him intensely. He gave her a weak smile and took a sip of his water.

“Harry, what is going on? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. No problems here.”

“Did something happen at the training session?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked down at the menu and shook his head.

“Did something happen at the training session?” Hermione repeated, this time looking at Ron.

“No,” said Ron, looking at Harry for the first time since they sat down. “It was completely norm—oh.” Something seemed to click and Ron rolled his eyes. “Harry, I know you’re shagging my sister.”

Harry immediately began to choke on the water he had been sipping.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed.

“That’s what he’s being weird about,” Ron insisted. “Isn’t it?”

Harry took a long drink of water and managed to get his throat cleared. “Look, I swear mate, I didn’t mean to say anything like that. It just slipped out.”

“What slipped out?” Hermione asked.

“One of the trainees was making these jokes about Ginny and her teammates and… I got defensive and made some stupid broomstick joke,” Harry said, feeling his face get hot.

“I get it,” Ron said. “I figured it was Moore being an arse. He’s so weirdly aggressive about everyone’s sex life. Every Auror gets caught up with Moore and says more than we intend to at some point. I don’t get why you’ve got your wand in a knot. Just because I don’t want the details of what you two get up to doesn’t mean that it bothers me that it’s happening.”

Harry stared at him.

“It’d be worse if it wasn’t happening, I reckon,” Ron contemplated, taking a sip of his own water.

“What?” said Hermione, looking almost as surprised as Harry.

Ron shrugged. “If you and I weren’t having sex, we’d be pretty miserable, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes, I suppose,” she agreed. “And likely making everyone around us miserable.”

“See? I don't want my sister or my best mate trapped in a miserable relationship! What kind of life is that? Why are the two of you acting so weird about this?”

“I would give anything for a Time Turner and a portable Pensieve so I could show your sixteen-year-old self this conversation,” Hermione pointed out.

“Yeah, well, that prat wasn’t regularly shagging his dream girl so he was a bit uptight,” Ron grinned. Hermione rolled her eyes but bit her lower lip, which made Harry cringe. These were classic flirting signs between the two of them and he now really regretted not skipping lunch.

“Wait,” said Hermione suddenly. “You said that ‘every Auror has got caught up’ with Moore and said ‘more than we intend’. Does ‘every Auror’ include you?”

“What’s that now?” asked Ron, ears turning red. “Uh, let’s place our order, yeah?”

#submission #canon fest platonic #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #ron x hermione #ron weasley #hp fanfic #hermione granger #harry potter #trio friendship #hinny #tw: implied homophobia

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akawrites000 · 3 years

Text

sunflowers, breaking clichés and faraway lovers

Hero trudges back home, her foot kicking up some mud on this lonely strip of road. She can't decide if she's happy or frustrated that nothing ever happens where she lives, not even villains, as if they don't find this place appealing enough to even visit.

She decides, after a moment, that maybe it's both. She's both happy that she doesn't have to deal with villains here, that this is the one constant place that she has in her life, and she's also a little frustrated that nothing ever happens here, and everywhere you see are familiar faces. She kind of wishes her town had the tradition to were masks like people in Jaoanese festivals do, so that it would at least bring some novelty into this place. Or she wishes that she can spot a new face somewhere, but the only face she wants to see right now is that of her partner's.

The wind blows to the left, and she turns to look. That's the path that leads to the sunflower field, one of her all time favourite places. She takes out her phone as the wind pushes her further to the field, holding the device in front of her face, trying to get a nice angle. Click. She opens villain’s chat and hits the send button, with a yellow heart emoji attached to the picture. She then sits down at the edge of the field, legs dangling, eyes taking in the spectacular view in front of her. This is probably the only place I'll never get tired of, even if it's the same ten years from now, she thinks.

Hero’s phone vibrates in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a message from villain. She opens the chat — smiling softly.

V: This looks so beautiful!! Is this the sunflower field that you always talk about? Thank you for the picture baby💛

Hero takes a moment to swoon. She loves it when villain calls her baby, and she has a feeling that they know that too.

H: Yes it is, one of my favourite places ever! I wish I could show this to you someday.

There it is, hero thinks. This ache that mixes up with the bubbly feelings in her chest because her lover lives in an entirely different continent away from her and there's nothing either of them can do about it for now. It's this sizzling agony that's there right under her skin, keeping her awake at night sometimes.

V: That sounds lovely. I would love to see it.

And then hero’s smiling, grinning. So much that her cheeks start to hurt and those blue feelings inside her chest slowly melt away, leaving her with this happy, giddy haze. Somewhere inside, the logical part of her speaks — what is even happening ?

Hero ignores that and just stares at the wide expanse of the field in front of her, beautifully painted by the sun setting on the horizon behind. She lets her mind wander to villain, her lover whom she's never met but knows — because one doesn't have to meet to know someone right? Of course hero aches to meet them, just like all the lovers in ancient texts do. She's no different. So she tries to meet them in her imagination at least- one hand in their soft, brown hair, while the other cups their cheek, tender with that natural blush that drives her crazy; and then villain's hands are in her hair, tangling her long back strands but she can't find it in herself to care one bit —

Her phone buzzes again and hero’s pulled out of that soft world in her mind, back to the real one. Her eyes take in her surroundings once again, noticing the changes. The sky is inky blue, like deep ocean waters and the sun is nowhere to be seen . The sunflowers that were all looking at the sun like dedicated devotees, have now turned to look at their loved ones next to them instead, and settle in their arms for the night. Hero looks at her phone, her mind working in two angles — one thinking about this fact that she read about sunflowers somewhere while the other focuses on villain’s chat box.

V: You'll have to fight supervillain later this evening right?

Hero groans as she remembers her pressing duties to this city — fighting supervillains, protecting the civilians, being the symbol of justice. It's only in the short time that she spends with villain — in their chatbox, occasional phone calls, when she thinks of villain, that she feels like a normal twenty something, just living her life and falling in love with someone breathtakingly amazing.

H: You're always more updated about my schedule than I am xD But yeah, I have to.

Hero imagines villain’s mouth, unable to decide between their usual smirk or rare soft smiles. She wonders what expression they're wearing right now.

V: Of course I am. That's one thing technology is good for.

Hero chuckles, simply happy that villain even bothers to keep track of all of this.

V: Fight safely and vigilantly okay? Trust your gut feelings, they're always valid. Your feelings are always valid.

Hero clutches her phone tight in her hand, trying to bury her face into her own arms. Her heart performs this dance everytime villain does stuff like this, and she never knows how to handle it.

H: Thank you my love❤ I'm a little nervous of course, but I think I'll be okay. I can do this.

Hero knows there's no point in putting up a front or lying to villain. They always know somehow. And hero thinks that she doesn't want to lie — she's always putting up a front for the world, the people, her opponents. So she wants at least this one person in the entire world to know who she really is, in all her silly, anxious and raw glory.

V: You'll be fine baby. You're an amazing fighter and I believe in you.

Okay, that's it. Hero feels like her entire body is on fire and she forces herself to look away from the phone screen at the field in front of her so that her fingers don't start doing this embarrassing keysmash that people generally seem to do when they're embarrassed. Does she want to do that? She thinks she'd rather avoid it. Or at least try to.

That's when her mind supplies that fact about sunflowers that it was trying to remember. When the sun is not visible, the sunflowers turn towards one another, as if the sun is just a fever dream that is abandoned as soon as it dips below the horizon, and the only real things that exist in the world are the flowers themselves and their partners who exist right beside them. Hero watches as the wind gently coaxes them, one flower falling into another and vice versa, as they hold each other and dance while the first stars form constellations in the sky. Hero thinks how beautiful this is, that there is a whole universe beyond clichés, that a sunflower doesn't have to achingly wait for a sun that will never belong to it, but instead the world is for its taking as it falls in love with the flower next to it — one that will return its feelings.

And all of a sudden, hero is overwhelmed by this weird emotion in her chest. She can't name it, she's always been bad with names. But sitting here and looking at these sunflowers breaking clichés makes her heart soar for some inexplicable reason. It's like nature is telling her that nothing else matters other than feelings that are respected and returned.

She opens villain's chat and starts typing in everything that she's realised in the past minute with increased fervour, afraid that all of these thoughts would just up and disappear into a puff of nothing because nothing is really everlasting — except this one moment. And she plans to make the best of it. She types the last letter, then attaches a close-up picture of two sunflowers with tangled petals facing one another and hits send.

Villain takes a minute to reply, but it brings the brightest smiles to hero's face regardless.

V: I don't know if you even realise this, but I just love the way you fucking think ❤ The sunflowers seem like they could pass for humans themselves don't they? Because I just find this whole thing alarmingly human — the way we have our hearts on our sleeves when we know no one else is looking, for that one person.

Hero sighs happily, she didn't think feeling understood could feel this liberating. It's definitely one of those feelings that people can get high on , she thinks. Damn, she thinks she's definitely getting high on this herself.

H: Thank you love, I love the way you think too! And I do agree, the sunflowers are humans xD (plus ten heart emojis).

A few more minutes go by and hero receives another message from villain with this attached picture:

there's a hand (hero guesses it's villain’s hand) holding two violet flowers together (so they look like they're hugging) with this caption —

I had to chase away two ducks for this picture, because these flowers were apparently their evening snack. How cool is that?

And hero’s full blown laughing now, the clutching-your-stomach kind of laughing and she hopes that the laughing emoji on her phone would do this justice. Probably not.

—

Here's the live coverage of Hero vs Supervillain-

The newsreader reads live from the venue and villain’s eyes refuse to leave the tv screen for even a single moment. They watch as their hero holds her ground against such a powerful foe and villain’s heart fills up to the brim with a mix of fondness and pride. They don't feel the rest of the evening pass by, as they sit and watch the entire live coverage without as much as even getting up.

Hero emerges victorious, and she has a few surface injuries here and there, some nasty looking gashes but she's standing there and she's alive and she's okay and villain finally lets out a breath that they didn't even know they were holding.

That's their strong, sweet and kind hero and villain can't be happier to call her their girlfriend.

Hellooo there lovely people!! I know it's been a long while since I posted (that's because life is pretty hectic rn) but I finally found some time to write (and procrastinate, but that's the usual lol). So what's new is that I've given you all some female rep, because I just realised that I haven't really written much female mc content. So I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and thank you for your support as always - means a lot<3

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harrysgloves · 4 years

Text

Three’s Company

Harry Styles x Reader x Florence Pugh

Story Summary: The relationship of Harry Styles, Florence Pugh, and Y/N are kept under wraps... until it all falls apart.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Language // Angst

Authors Note: Please ignore the fact I’ve had writters block for over a month... Hope this is at least (semi) close to what you wanted anon! I kind of been carried away in daydreams of a poly relationship with Harry and Florence lately... xx

>>>Kind of a continuation of this fic<<< (Not necessary to read first)

PART TWO

>>><<<

"Come on." Harry breathed out the words onto your skin. His lips pressed against the smooth sensitive velvet of your inner legs. "Jus' wanna make yeh feel good, baby."

"I gotta go." You whined, your head pressed down into your pillow on his bed as you pouted up at the ceiling. It was 11:32 and you had exactly 28 minutes until you needed to be across town for this dumb lunch you promised your friends you'd show up to.

"Only need five minutes." He smirked into your skin. Playful green eyes shot up from between your legs when you out a huff.

"Shut up." You mumbled, your legs snapped closed as you tried to roll out of his oversized bed. His long, lanky, arms around your waist trying their best to stop you from leaving.

"Wait!" He pouted, his head rested on your shoulder.

"Harry." You groaned, your head leaned back as your feet dangled off the bed, inches away from the floor, and towards the plans, you were starting to regret making for the day.

"Sweetheart, 've missed yeh." His calloused hands wandered down your waist, under the shirt you'd stolen from his closet for your impromptu nights stay.

You were starting to wonder why you even bothered having an apartment of your own when those fucking hands started soothing motions on your breast. Rough fingers swirling your nipples into a hard peak.

Your soft sigh floated through the air as his lips curled against your neck. You could tell he thought he won this time, his gloating smirk, a self-satisfied hum drifting from that damn mouth that you simultaneously wanted to smack and grind against. He always knew how to do this, he managed to find all your weak spots in less than a month.

The bastard.

"You two always start without me." The voice of your girlfriend broke through that foggy haze of lust in your mind. You jumped away from Harry. Your bare feet hit the floor with a loud slap.

"Ugh." Harry groaned as he slammed back into the soft mattress, his eyes glared at Florence. "Now she's gonna leave."

"What? No…." She drew out in a whine. Perfectly pink lips pouted at you from the corner of Harry's bed.

"I promised them I'd go this time." You mumbled as you tossed articles of clothing that didn't belong to you across the room.

You three needed a cleaning system.

"But…" Florence sighed as she took down her hair from the towel on top of her head. "Today's our day off."

"You guys can still do stuff." You said as you wiggled quickly into your jeans, not at all paying attention to the worried look on both of their faces.

It had been a little less than a month of dating and the two of them hadn't gone anywhere without you. Sure, you'd done things separately with the both of them. Separate dates, divided time between both their apartments, and long nights with either one of them in a bed.

You'd done just as much together as you had apart but neither one of them wanted to push the bounds of the slightly new relationship. That left you with one boyfriend and one girlfriend, who really didn't seem to be dating each other, only you.

"We've talked about this." You groaned as you slid your bra around your bare stomach. Harry's shirt bunched around your neck as you threaded each arm through a strap. "Go out on a date, fuck each other."

"We do!" Florence protested, her arms crossed against her bare chest, the towel in her hair fell slightly as she pouted to you.

You couldn't have rolled your eyes harder if you tried.

"Without me." You said as you tucked Harry's shirt into the top of your jeans. His head popped up from the bed, a dimpled smile across his face when he saw you wearing his clothes for the day.

"We wanna give yeh time to get used to it." He said as he rested on his elbow. His soft curly hair hung in his eyes.

"I know," you sighed as you sat down on the edge of the bed to put on your socks. " I appreciate it but really, you two are dating too."

"Won't change your mind?" Florence asked after a second too long of you three being in silence.

"Flor," you cooed in a soft voice when your eyes lifted to see her looking so vulnerable. "I'm not going anywhere. I want this."

Your hand cupped around her face, thumb stroking her cheek. Her head nodded in agreement before you leaned in to capture her lips with your own.

This would be good for all of you, you thought. A chance for the three of you to become a solid unit, not separate moving parts. You smiled softly at her as you leaned back from her. Her eyes still held a look of disbelief hidden deep in them.

"Promise I'm not going anywhere."

>>>

"You're late!" Your best friend yelled way too loudly at you as soon as you rounded the corner of the sidewalk. Your cheeks flamed as you glared at him, thankful your sunglasses hid you at least a little bit from the seemingly millions of people, now staring at you.

"Get famous friends and now you think you can be late."

Your elbow dug into his side as you passed him. The doors to the sports bar, you used to be a regular at, opened with a ring as he mumbled under his breath, dutifully following behind you as he rubbed the sore spot on his side.

The long table that was once filled with your handful of single friends was now filled to the brim with the original three and their partners. You were the only singleton, the lone warrior, or at least that's what they all thought.

The decision to not go public was made almost immediately by the three of you. No media coverage seemed like the smart move for everyone involved.

The only exception you made to the keep-it-under-wraps rule was your immediate family and your one best friend, Sam, who promptly told his own girlfriend.

"You should go out with our travel agent, Y/N, he's really sweet. Not much of a looker though." Lisa, a girl you didn't even like, piped up halfway through your pasta dish. Your teeth ground together as you smiled up to her over your fork.

"Might as well, Y/N." Sam's girlfriend, Casey, snickered from the other side of you. Her laughter was cut short by your foot kicking her leg under the table, hard.

"I'm good." You huffed, you didn't know how much longer you could take sitting here with all of them trying to set you up with friends of friends, or worse their sad sympathetic smiles everytime one of the couples at the table did something cute.

"You could tell them." Sam whispered to you when he saw your mounting frustration with the situation. Most of your friends had married assholes who had no problem voicing their opinions about your love life.

By the third beer and your slice of cheesecake, you had relaxed a bit. The conversation had finally gone from your lack of love life towards everyone's children or careers. The end of the long lunch was finally on the horizon and you could successfully ditch having to hang out with all of them again for at least another 6 months when your phone started buzzing out of control from your purse behind you.

All 6 people who sat around the table with you seemed to be more invasive than you originally thought. All set of eyes stared you down as you unlocked your phone to silence it, when the notifications caught your attention.

So many fucking notifications.

Every account you had, countless tags and mentions, tweets from every person in America, it felt like.

Thank fuck, @Y/N_Y/L/N can FINALLY leave @Harry_Styles alone!

Ding, Dong, the third wheel is DEAD @Y/N_Y/L/N

Hope @Y/N_Y/L/N is recovering well from @Harry_Styles choosing the better girl @Florence_Pugh

#Florencerry #Farry #Florry CONFIRMED. #ByebyebyeY/N

That familiar feeling of dread flooded your stomach, your tongue grew thick with anxiety as your eyes scanned so many messages. Your silence covered the entire table, or maybe it was the ringing in your ears that made it feel that way.

You said you wanted them to go on a date, not this.

No, this, this was awful. A picture of your two partners with their tongue shoved down each other's throats. They were in a corner, away from everybody, trying to be as private as possible. Harry's hand wrapped in her hair, her own hands grasped the back of his shirt.

Why wouldn't they be more careful? Where did this leave you three?

Where did it leave you?

"Everything okay?" Sam's voice sliced through your anxious thoughts.

"Just my brother." You lied as smoothly as you could. Your phone quickly locked and placed back into your purse, a wad of money thrown on the table for your meal. "He's at my apartment, got to go let him in."

"Okay?" Sam's voice trailed behind you as you rushed through the doors to the restaurant and back to the safety of your own apartment.

>>>

"What the fuck?" Florence groaned, her pillow thrown off the bed, towards Harry's phone that wouldn't stop ringing.

"'M up." He mumbled, his blurry eyes barely opening. They definitely shouldn't have had all those drinks with lunch.

"Wot?" He grumbled, half-asleep into his phone, not even paying attention to the name that flashed across the screen.

"Why didn't you tell me you're going out with Florence? This is great for the movie!" Jeff cheered, loudly, way too loudly. Harry's eyebrows pulled together as he pulled the phone back from his face.

Florence gasped, shooting up from her place, phone in hand as she panicked. Her eyes widened larger and larger, the longer she looked at her phone.

"Oh no." She whispered, her phone pushed in Harry's face that fell into a frown the second his eyes focused on the bright screen.

"Well, 'm not-" he cleared his throat that suddenly seemed like the desert. "'M dating her and Y/N."

"At the same time?" Jeff said after a very long and uncomfortable pause. Harry's hand ran through his hair as Florence signaled for him to put Jeff on speaker.

"Yeh, we're all datin'." Harry's lips pursed as he hit the speakerphone button. He wasn't exactly sure what Jeff would say. Sure, he was supportive in the past but this was new territory, at least for Harry.

"Harry…" Jeff sighed through the phone. His voice seemed to make the room go completely still. Everything paused in time. "You can't- listen, it's not a good idea to go public with that."

"Not really y'choice."

"Give it till the movie's over. You and Florence date publicly and promote the movie, once it's done go public then if you still want to."

"We'll talk 'bout it." Harry muttered, the phone call ended as quickly as it started. His phone thrown haphazardly back onto the nightstand beside the bed as he let out a long groan, his hands ran down his face.

"God, Y/N had to see that already. She's probably freaking out." Florence said as she got out of bed, determined to go check on her girlfriend no matter how late it was.

"Jeff was right." Harry said softly, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite of him. The small amount of light that filled the room was barely enough to see the shocked look across Florence's face, but Harry didn't have to see it to know it was there.

Even he was surprised at his own words.

Was he really prepared to give you both up to save his career? Or could he take all the stigma from dating two girls at once? He didn't know and he didn't have time to process.

"You did not just say that."

"What would people think, Flor? 'M a guy, dating two women! I'd be a womanizer and yeh two the bimbos who put up with me datin' each other."

"Wow, Harry." Florence's voice boomed around the room as she threw on her clothes. Angrily stomping around until she was clothed.

"Yeh knew what I meant." He sighed, his head rested in his hands.

"I don't want to hide who I'm with. I'm happy with you two and I can't believe you want to hide that!" She shrieked, her foot stomped on the floor as she glared at him.

Logically, she could understand his reasoning. Emotionally, she was pissed. How could he be thinking of hiding away what you three had? You were the perfect girlfriend and the three of you worked so well together.

"I wanna give it time!" He snapped back, his voice sharp with an anger she hadn't heard before.

"Why?" She asked in a huff, her hands crossed over her chest as she glared at him.

"People are gonna eat her alive. She'll always be the third wheel. If we wait til after the movie maybe it won't be so bad" Harry's words sucked the life right out of Florence. Her chest seemed to deflate as she stared at Harry. Stress, anxiety, and about a million other feelings ran through her all at once.

"Oh." She sighed, the edge of the bed dipped in as she sat down. Both of them silently staring at random objects in the room that suddenly become the most interesting thing.

Both of them wondering where this left the three of you.

>>>

It had been three months, three long and hard months of feeling like the outsider in your relationship. Maybe not in private but in public, you were always the odd man out.

Don't stand too close to Harry.

Don't be too friendly with Florence.

Don't laugh too hard.

Don't smile too much, and for the love of God, do not let anyone catch you hugging each other for too long.

It was hard but as the holidays grew closer and the final scenes of the movie were filmed, you knew the end was just on the horizon. You'd finally be able to hold hands with them in public again. You'd be able to fix Florence's hair or adjust Harry's shirt without being murdered online.

The trivial things that you used to not pay any mind to doing every day were hard to stop doing in public at first. It was a hard road, with too much speculation from fans and a lot of rude tweets about you, but it was worth it. You'd spend your nights wrapped up with the both of them, a smile on your face as you drifted to sleep.

It was hard but worth it. You'd repeat to yourself almost daily.

They cared about you.

They wanted to be with you.

You loved them both.

"Hello?" Your voice cracked as your one hand rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, the other barely opening the front door of Harry's house.

You didn't think he was expecting anyone.

"Is, uh, is my brother here?" Gemma asked from the other side.

"Oh, he and Florence are at an interview for the movie." You said as you opened the door fully for her. Your bare legs that weren't covered by Harry's t-shirt raised at the cool air that ran in. "You can wait for him if you want."

"Yeah, okay." She mumbled as she walked passed you, her eyes barely made contact with your own as she made a fast-paced walk to the living room.

"I'm sorry, if I'd known you were coming I would have picked up or you know, made tea or something." You said awkwardly from the entryway. Your arms crossed over your chest as you walked further into the room.

"No offense or anything," she started as she looked over the semi-messy room and back over to you, "why are you here?"

"What?" You asked with an uncomfortable chuckle, the smile that was there fell from your face.

"This is Harry's house and he's not here. Plus, he's dating Florence." Her pointed words stung deep as her eyes sliced into you.

"He's, he didn't- wait," you stuttered out as you circled to where she was standing, your eyebrows pulled tightly together as you looked into her stern face. "Did he not tell you?"

"Tell me what? That you're Florence's friend?"

The lung was sucked out of your lungs so quickly it felt like you were a fish out of water. Your tongue wetting your lips was the only signal to your brain that you were still alive and moving around, breathing but barely.

"Florence friend, right." You said softly, your eyes stung as you scoffed. You shook your head as you stared at the floor.

It took a millisecond for you to get a hold of yourself. You gave her a sad smile as you walked past her towards the bedroom. His shirt left on the bed and all of your belongings that were in sight packed into your oversized purse.

You were done.

You were so done being the third wheel. You could handle it for a little bit, maybe even forever if it was just with the public, but this was his sister. His family, his inner circle, and he hadn't told her.

"Y/N?" You heard her panicked call of your name from the other room. Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. Your head thrown back as the tears started to flow down your cheeks.

You couldn't be with one and not the other.

"Where are you going?" Her voice broke as she saw you standing there, your bags packed, his shirt on the bed.

"Y/N?" His voice stung, the betrayal burned in your throat.

"I'm leaving." You said from the middle of the bedroom, your back still faced them as they stood in the doorway.

"You'll be back tomorrow, right?"

"No, Flor, I'm not coming back." You whispered, tears flooded your eyes as you heard her suck in a deep breath.

"Y/N, 'S almost over, one more interview and I prom-"

"Fuck your promises." You yelled as you turned furiously in your spot, your vision blurred as you glared at him.

"Wha-"

"Ask your sister." You scoffed as you stormed past them, your shoulder knocked his as you pushed through the doorway.

"What does that mean?" Florence yelled as she trailed after you. Harry's shocked face and slumped shoulder not deterring her at all from chasing you down.

"It means I'm done." You sniffed, the sleeve of your sweater used as a tissue. "I'm your girlfriend not some slut you welcome in your bed from time to time."

"We don't think that at all!" Florence cried harder, her hands cupped your face as she closed in on you. Your shoulders shrugged, your own hands pushed hers away as you sucked in a deep breath.

"I can't Flor. I just can't."

"Baby, please, lemme explain…" Harry pleaded as he walked up behind Florence, his hands rested on her shoulders, his own green eyes watering. "I didn't it to get out before we were ready. Jus' a little longer and then it goes back to normal."

"This is normal. This will always be our normal." You sobbed, your hands covered your eyes as you turned from the both of them. Your arms hugged around yourself for comfort. "I'm always going to be the one who's in the middle of your relationship."

"You're not!" Florence choked as she held onto Harry's hand.

"I'll fix all of this, please, jus' stay." Harry's hand reached for your own but you jerked your body away.

You couldn't say anything, nothing more would come out. No words made sense to you right now. Your heart was broken and so were you. You turned to leave, walking tight past the shocked Gemma and towards the door.

"I love you." Her words made you pause but only for a second, the doorknob turned in your hand before you could give it a second thought.

Leaving was harder than you ever imagined but you couldn't stay where you felt unwanted. Your sniffling nose and shallow breathing was your only company as you walked the long street back to your car then back to your lonely apartment that shined with object after object that reminded you of them.

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 3 years

Text

An Act Of Kindness || M.YG

Pairing : Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre : soft yandere?

Summary : When your summer camp groupmates decide to go 'off rhe road', everything goes wrong.

Wordcount: 2.6k lol

[ A/N: Suggested for my Baby Project series, but it was a little too dark so here's a one shot instead. I'm not exactly great at 'yandere' genre yet so like,, I tried lol.Enjoy!]

" I don't know about this guys." You tell your annoying group mates as you're walking of the path and into the depths of the forest.

One of your groupmates, Heeyoung huffs as she looks over her shoulder at you.

" Psh, don't be such a whimp. We're just going off the road to make a shortcut." She tells you.

Jungkook grins at you from a few steps up front.

" Relax, it'll be fine. Besides, we've got the map, nothing will go wrong." He smiles, waving said paper map with his hand.

You still hesitate.

" I really don't know guys, they did forecast that it'll rain today too. Besides, how do we even know where we are from the map? If we walk off the path, we won't be able to track our own location." You point out.

You really aren't in the mood to die just because of these people. You've seen enough horror movies.

" Relax, it'll be fine." Jimin nudged you from beside.

You look at Jimin's face, the male has always quite charmed you in a way, and unlike the other two, he wasn't quite as annoying either.

" Jungkook's right. What could go wrong?" He smiles at you.

Quite frankly, almost everything went wrong.

It's now around 4 hours later, and the four of you are hopelessly lost in the depths of the forest.

It's raining now too, buckets of water falling from the grey skies, not exactly pleasant.

" Wait, can you show me the map one more time?" Heeyoung asks Jungkook as an excuse to huddle close to him.

He looks at her weirdly as she presses herself up against his arm, but doesn't comment on it. Figuring she probably just feels cold.

All of you are dressed in shorts and a t-shirt after all, except for you, as you're also wearing a long sleeved up zip up hoodie. You were lowkey prepared for this, but considering it's been raining for at least 30 minutes now, your small preparation had no effect anymore, and so you too have chattering teeth.

You watch in disappointment when Jungkook unfolds the soaked map, only to have it literally slip through his fingers, the flimsy pieces of paper falling hopelessly on the ground.

Heeyoung watches the thing fall before hitting Jungkook, now suddenly mad.

" You know what? This is all your fault! If you hadn't soaked the map!-"

" My fault?! You wanted to walk off the damn path!" Jungkook argued right back at her.

You pinched your brows. Great, so you were stuck with two idiots now too.

" Okay, uhm, let's just not blame anyone. It can't change how we're situated now, let's just find shelter and check our phones." Jimin suggests.

You nod numbly, teeth chattering as all of you go to seek for coverage.

Jungkook and Heeyoung are suddenly not attached to the hip anymore as you do so, it appeared the girl wasn't interested in him anymore.

" Hey, uhm, I'm sorry for not listening to you. I should've agreed." Jimin says as he now walks beside you.

You smile at him gratefully.

" Thanks, I appreciate that actually."

He nods.

" So, uhm, do you mind if I hold your hand? I know we're not close and all, but you seem cold, and I can't exactly offer you my jacket, not to mention that I'm quite cold too." He suggests, not looking at you as he says so.

You smile at his antics, finding his behavior cute.

" Sure." You reply shortly as you move to grab a hold on Jimin's hand.

His fingers interlock with yours easily. Both of your skins feel cold, even against each other, but it admittedly felt nice to not feel alone in a situation like this.

It isn't until another twenty minutes later that Jungkook has found something.

" Guys! Look at that! That seems like shelter." Jungkook says, pointing to, what seems to be, part of a roof.

Jimin and you exchange glances.

For some reason, it felt like he was asking something, and so you shrug as a response.

He nods before turning back to the other two.

" Okay, let's go there."

" Nope, mine is dead too." Jimin sighs, pocketing his phone before running the same hand through his hair.

He hasn't let go of your hand since thirty minutes ago, except for when you took out your phone, and for some reason, the small action made you feel a little funnier about Jimin.

The four of you are stood in front of, what seems to be, an abandoned, mansion. Most blinds are closed, but the blinds that are open show dark rooms, and are mostly on the second floor.

" We could, try to knock?" Heeyoung suggests.

You blink, looking up at the bit of the building you can see. For some reason, it gives you a cold vibe.

" I don't thinks anyone even lives here-"

You've barely finished your sentence when Heeyoung is already knocking.

You sigh, not all too surprised by her in all honesty.

However, surprise and fear greet you as the door suddenly jiggles.

Jungkook's eyes widen, and Jimin tugs you closer to him as the sound sounds.

All of you are even more surprised when the door opens, being greeted by a rather old looking male, who blinks at all of you.

" Excuse me, but can I help you?" The man asks politely.

He seems to be around his fourties at least, and all of you let out a breath.

" Hello! Sorry for suddenly knocking. It's just that it's raining-"

As she speaks, it also starts to thunder.

What a great moment.

" - And thundering, so we wondered if we could stay here for a while until the weather dies down a bit." She asks them, a friendly smile on her face.

The male clears his throat.

" Well then, please come in and wait here in the hallway. I will ask master Min for permission." He tells her before opening the door wider.

She smiles, turning to all of you, and motioning with her head to follow her in.

You all do so. The hallway is large, stereo typical for a mansion, with multiple doors, and a clean marble floor, along with a grand staircase to the second floor.

You subconsciously tighten your grip on Jimin's hand.

He turns to you with a worried expression.

" You okay? We can go if you think it's a bad idea." He tells you.

You're barely turning to look at him before he clarifies.

" I trust your judgement."

" Oh. I see. Well, I really don't know. It feels here kind of off? But I feel like it's going to storm soon, so maybe we should just ask for a phone connection and wait here." You suggest.

He hums.

" Sounds like a plan to me."

A few moments later the man returns, a kind smile on his face.

" The master will be with us shortly, he'd like to know who'd be seeking shelter in his house before he will grant it." The man smiles.

As you study his stance, you realize that this man is most probably a staff.

" Oh, where are my manners? My name is Charles, I'm the butler of this mansion." He smiles.

Jungkook nods, about to introduce himself, when the sound of clacking shoes sounds.

All of you turn to the grand staircase, where a single male is walking down from. Your eyes widen in surprise. The male who's walking down said stairs is stunning. He's got a pale skin, black hair, and is wearing a dark blue suit with a white button up underneath.

Who relaxes in that kind of outfit? Not that you'll complain or anything, he was admittedly good looking. He walks down unbothered, seemingly not bothered by your looks.

" Say whatever you want, but he is very handsome." Heeyoung whispers to you.

You nod silently in response, and Jimin clears his throat.

You turn to blink at him.

" Something wrong?" you ask him.

" No not-"

" My name is Min Yoongi. I live here. Who are you?"

It appeared the male, now known as Min Yoongi, had already come to a stop in front of you.

" Right, sorry! My name is Heeyoung, these are Jungkook, Jimin and Y/N." Heeyoung smiles at him.

He doesn't smile back, simply letting his eyes go over all of your forms for a moment. You shivered as his eyes went over your form.

" Fine, you may stay for now. Has any of you had dinner yet?" He asks, voice deep, and eyes holding a bored expression.

" Dinner? We've only had breakfast!-"

" Uhm, thank you! But, that's not necessary. If we could maybe make a call though, that'd be great." You hurriedly stop Jungkook.

Yoongi raises a brow at you in surprise, as both Heeyoung and Jungkook come at you.

" Okay, y'know what?! This is enough. He's literally being nice to us by offering us a meal, and you're just going to turn him down? What is wrong with you?!" Heeyoung yells at you.

" C'mon Y/N. Just one meal? We're all hungry." Jungkook tries, a little more softly.

Yoongi watches you and your friends sharply, not exactly amused by the rudeness of your group mate.

You squeeze Jimin's hand softly as you step back, not entirely sure on what to do.

" Alright, uhm, let's not get mad at her. And staying for one meal should be alright. Right?" He tries too.

You sigh, but nod anyway.

The meal was filled with chatter of your groupmates and charles, Yoongi was mostly silent, and so were you. Heeyoung tried her best to get Yoongi's attention, often complementing him for the meal and his hospitality, he didn't really do much in return, simply nodding until he at some point friendly told her to sod off.

Soon after you tried ringing the camp, but to your disappointment, the lines were dead, and the storm had only worsened.

" It's dead. Any idea if we can fix it?" You asked Yoongi as you put the phone away.

He shook his head, bangs moving.

" I'm afraid not. I can offer all of you a bed for tonight only." He suggests, messing his hair up.

You bite your lip in thought, looking out of the window beside you.

The storm certainly wasn't going to get better anytime soon.

You sighed, before nodding. Going out there now was a death wish.

" That'd be nice. Thank you, and I'm sorry for us suddenly turning up on your doorstep." You tell him.

He shakes his head.

" Don't worry about it."

About an hour later you're seated on your bed. You, Jimin, Heeyoung and Jungkook all had your own rooms. The other three in the bedrooms across the hallway from you while you're situated beside Min Yoongi's very own bedroom.

After about twenty minutes, there's a knock sounding at your door.

" Come in." You call out.

The door opens, and you're surprised to find Yoongi standing there.

" Oh, hi. Is everything alright?" You ask him.

He hums.

" Yeah, just wanted to talk to you, if you don't mind. " He tells you with a small smile.

You nod, sitting down at the bed as he sits down opposite you at the desk.

Conversation went surprisingly smooth, after a few minutes into talking, it went as if you two knew each other for years.

" Y'know, you seem to be a pretty perfect person." He tells you as your laughter died down.

You snorted.

" Pft, nah. My grades really prove otherwise." You tell him.

You're flattered a man of his 'rank' thinks like that about you, but you really don't agree.

He grins.

" Grades are just a social structure." He shrugs.

You smile at him.

" Thanks, but really though. No one is perfect. Especially not me." You tell him honestly.

You don't hate yourself, but that doesn't mean you view yourself as perfect either.

He shakes his head.

" I think your head's messing with you due to the time. I'll see you tomorrow. You guys can still stay for breakfast right?" He asks.

You think about it for a moment.

You're already here anyway. How bad could staying over for breakfast be?

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that it's already light out.

The second thing you notice is that it's eerily quiet.

You bolt out of bed, changing in the bathroom and folding the borrowed clothes on the sink. There's a packaged toothbrush by the sink too, and so you brush your teeth before going downstairs.

"Y/N?" You suddenly hear Yoongi's voice from somewhere beside you.

You turn around in surprise, barely tripping over your feet in your hurry.

Yoongi reacts quickly, catching you by your shoulders and holding you upright.

you both blink at each other before he gently lets go of you.

" Sorry, uhm- What are you doing here?" He asks you.

You furrow your brows at him.

" What do you mean? Where's the rest?" You ask him confused.

" They left already, I thought you went with them." He blinks.

Did they really leave you?

Meanwhile Jimin is looking around him in confusion.

Where was he?

He looks around, checking his surroundings.

He, Jungkook and Heeyoung seemed to be sleeping in a clearing in the forest. It takes him a moment before he remembers what happened. It takes him another moment before he realizes you're missing.

Jungkook wakes up soon after.

" Hey, where's Y/N?" Jimin asks him.

Jungkook blinked, before rolling on his side.

"Idunno, probably still asleep." He mumbles sleepily.

Jimin rolls his eyes before throwing sand at the younger, who's quick to get up.

"What the hell?-"

"What are you lads doing here?" Another voice suddenly joins the conversation.

Both males look up, only to see a man, seemingly a little over his 25's standing there.

" Uhm, hi. We're kind of lost." Jungkook explains, waking up Heeyoung before getting up and dusting off his pants.

The man blinks before nodding.

" I can see that yeah." He responds dumbly.

" We also lost a group mate. Seen a mansion around?" Jimin asks him.

At the words of a mansion, the male pales.

" You don't mean to say you're lost travelers?- I- I thought that curse was gone." The man spoke warily.

Heeyoung, who now got up, switched wary glances with Jungkook.

" Curse?" She asked.

" Yeah, there's a curse of a mansion. Apparently the Min family lived there somewhere back in the 1800's or something, but a burglar got in and killed most of the family, apart from their twenty-something year old son. A few years ago we found bodies here, on the very place you're standing right now, they were barely alive but managed to warn us. They were the last people who came from that mansion, until you that is." He explains with wide eyes.

No one knew how to react to that.

Did this mean you're dead?

" You see whenever it storms, people turn up dead. Except for the people before you. You're the only ones to have made it out alive and well. You're the first survivors- But your friend..." He trails off.

Jimin's hand balls into a fist, as Jungkook's doe eyes widen and Heeyoung held her hand over her mouth in shock.

Did they really kill you by not listening to you?

#bts #yandere x reader #yandere bts #one shot #min yoongi x reader #park jimin x reader #haunted au

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

you know since they brought out a young cat grant i kinda want lena to talk to kara about cat and kara being surprised that lena isnt intimidated by cat grant and goes as far as calling cat grant, “sweet.”

and kara’s just: “WHAT? MISS GRANT IS SWEET???” kara thinks ookayy that makes sense cos theyre both powerful intimidating women??? so maybe that’s what sweet is in lena luthor standards???

but it all makes sense one night, the both of them laying in bed; lena with a book, big black glasses sliding down her nose adorably and kara flipping channels as she casually tells lena about cat grant doing a surprise visit and asking kara to get coffee earlier that day. lena casually says, “mm. yeah. that’s great darling, always liked cat.” and kara asks, surprised, “you like cat??? you’ve never told me about any times the two of you met.”

“oh, yeah, i mean we haven’t interacted all that much i guess. she’s always on the press side of things while im on, well...the other side. besides, i like her favorite reporter interviewing me more than cat grant herself interviewing me.”

and kara just blushes, stutters out, “i-i’m not cat’s favorite.”

“mm. yeah, right. whatever you say, kara. anyway, yeah, we haven’t talked much but i do remember the first time we met.”

and lena puts her book and she gets this sentimental look on her face that makes kara more curious.

“yeah? when?”

“i think i was 11 or 12 at the time. and cat wasn’t you know, she wasn’t, ‘cat grant’ yet.” she makes these adorable air quotation’s around cat’s name and kara smiles.

“anyway, she was doing a coverage on the luthor family and i remember lillian, pulling me aside, once cat and her cameraman arrived. told me to not talk to the reporter lady.”

kara feels that familiar tug at her heart whenever lena talks about her childhood. and oh, how kara aches to hug an eleven-year old lena and tell her that soon, she’ll meet kara and lena can talk as long as likes as much as she wants and kara would always listen.

“it wasn’t much of a problem. i mean, i don’t really talk all that much. and besides i was only there because they said cat needed pictures of the luthor family together,” lena continues and kara might not be able to hug eleven year old lena luthor but she can wrap around this lena luthor beside her, so she does that and lena continues talking.

“and so, lillian was showing cat around or something, when cat suddenly stopped to talk to me,” she omitted the part where lillian told cat to stop bothering lena because her daughter was very shy and she really doesn’t really like talking.

“and i think i was writing in my notebook or something when cat approached me and she asked me what i was doing and i just showed her my notebook, not saying a word, cos i was scared lillian would be mad.”

lena shifts closer to kara on the bed as she notices kara’s hand clench tighter on the remote at the mention of lillian again.

“and then cat asked what the my scribbling meant. and i think it was an old experiment, i can’t remember much. but i do recall thinking that, surely this is another one of those reporter trying to suck up and i didn’t think she’d care about it but she asked me and she made me talk even though lillian was staring her down. and i think lillian was really pissed off that some blonde reporter disobeyed her wishes and spent half the time talking to her stepdaughter about some stupid science shit. anyway, yeah. i remember cat grant.”

lena waves her hand as if it wasn’t much of a big deal but kara knows better, assesses the slight tremble to lena’s voice as she continues, “she uh-- she made me feel like a person that day. on a day i didn’t feel like much of a person, more like lillian’s stage prop. but yeah, cat grant. i like her. besides, she brought me kara danvers, what’s not to like about that?”

#anyways another blurb #i have waayyyy to much free time in my hands lately so you get all this #you get many many words #many words about this idiots in love and a sprinkling of a young cat grant #if you see a typo no u didnt #supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp

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donaidk · 3 years

Text

Mick Schumacher - Perfect Strangers

Thank you so much for requesting! I had lots of fun with this one 😂 and did leave it a bit open if maybe in the future someone would like a second part to this one. Hope you will like it, and have a lovely Monday! 🥰🧡

Inspiration song

Masterlist | Taglist/Queue | Request

“ You okay alone? I have to go but wouldn’t want to bore you with press events. ” Seb turned to me after talking to Britta for a little, while I watched the mechanics tend to his car in the garage. “ You can stay here, I’m sure no one minds the company. ” He added, sending me a little smile, making me nod.

“ Yeah, I would probably get lost anyways if I went out there. ” I let out a laugh, staying in my seat next to the engineers as he gave me a quick hug and then left the garage, following Britta who was already telling him everything he needed to know. Today was the second time I met her, but I still liked her calm, collected demeanor and energy. I could see why Seb was so content about working with her for the past years.

While they were gone I watched as the team got ready for FP1 and the camera crews walked around the paddock, catching drivers for interviews and capturing moments for interludes they will have during the coverage of the practice rounds on TV. I was more familiar with watching the practices, qualis and races on TV than attending them, even though I would have had the chance to do so. Sebastian was a great friend of my dad, making him like an honorary uncle or godfather to me when I was a bit older and spent quite some time with him and Hana. I even looked after Emilie when they had somewhere to go and were sure I won’t put him in danger. We were lucky that I was trustworthy from a really young age, meaning they could trust me with him as soon as he was fine without Hana being there for a few hours. There wasn’t an occasion when I would have rejected babysitting the young Vettels.

“ Can I get a coffee from somewhere? ” I turned to Seb’s engineer when I saw he wasn’t occupied with something else. I really didn’t want to bother them as they were doing an important job here. At the same time, I needed directions not to get lost around the paddocks.

“ Of course. They have different kinds in the canteen. But we have a machine here too, if that’s enough for you. ” He pointed at a door in the hallway, making me follow his finger with my gaze. “ It’s the staff room, but driver guests are welcome to use it. ” He added with a smile which I returned, thanking him before standing up.

Inside the room I could easily spot the machine that was already going with a cup under it, slowly being filled with the dark liquid. While it finished up I took another cup and a capsule from the holder on the counter. When the machine turned off I quickly changed out the empty capsule and also the cup from it, putting it to the side. I was sure someone would come back for it later. Sure enough, just when the machine finished my coffee the door behind me opened. I was just looking for some sugar and creamer, not really paying attention to my surroundings, and jumping a little when someone greeted me. Turning back immediately my eyes met with a boy, who was around my age and I could recognise him as Mick. Probably anyone would have recognised him.

“ Sorry, didn’t want to scare you. ” He let out a chuckle, stepping to the counter next to me. “ Was this under the machine? ” He asked me pointing at the mug that I put to the side.

“ Yes. Hope you don’t mind me taking it out. ” I smiled at him stepping to my own cup and adding a bit of sugar and cream into it. “ Sugar? ” I asked him, handing the container to him when he nodded a little. I took a sip from it, to make sure it had enough of everything, before turning to the room.

“ You’re Y/N, right? ” He asked and although I nodded as an answer, I couldn’t help surprise getting onto my face. It wasn’t shocking that people knew his name and almost anything about him, but I couldn’t tell the same about me. “ Seb talks quite a lot about you. At least once every weekend. Also, I think we met before already. ” He explained, making me sigh and hide my face in my palm a little.

“ Never thought I would be a topic for Seb to mention all the time. ” I shook my head, leaving the room when he was ready and we went back to the garage together. “ Hope he only said good things about me. Although I’m pretty sure he probably embarrassed me already, even without me coming to races. ” I let out a sigh entering the garage and sitting down on my previous spot.

“ Not too embarrassing. Just the usual child stories. Although I would say they were more about his children, mentioning you on the way too. ” He shrugged a little, sitting down next to me, at the end of the ‘table’. “ But he made sure we knew you’re coming today. ” My eyes widened a little, before letting out a laugh. If people didn’t know him so well, they could have misunderstood me for one of his children. If I would have been younger, probably, as I was too old for that to be a possibility.

“ So I wasn’t even a surprise? That’s upsetting. ” I let out a sigh, swirling my cup a little, to dissolve the sugar on the bottom of my coffee, as the first sip was still quite bitter. “ Oh, congrats for the championship. I almost forgot. ” I let out a laugh, my hand slapping my forehead a little, as I realised how impolite I was with not even mentioning it.

“ It’s okay, but thank you. I’m just looking forward to the next season now. Gonna be quite a change. ” He smiled at me, shrugging a little but then his shoulders stayed a bit lifted as his muscles tensed. I looked up at him with an understanding smile.

“ You’re gonna get into it. First years are for getting used to the championship and the car. ” I told him, hoping I wasn’ saying something that sounded stupid. I followed the sport but wasn’t as knowledgeable about it as some fans. “ I’m sure every fan knows how hard it is. ” I added as I thought that could be a concern of his. His team loved him, I was sure they would support him however the next year turns out.

“ First seasons are always for learning, but… you know, they think experience comes easily with my name. ” He sighed, rather lifting his cup to his lips, probably to mask the smile fading away from his face. I couldn’t fault him though, there was probably immense pressure on him. Of course, mostly from the outside world, as people around him probably knew quite well how talented he was. Just as Seb always mentioned how skilled and kind he was.

Everything sped up when Seb and Charles arrived back at the garage and they started getting ready for practice. We mostly just stayed silent, sharing a few thoughts when something happened, so we won’t disturb the engineers and he can also mostly focus on the data and how everything went with Ferrari. I knew this was already his time to learn everything, and didn’t need any distractions. I was fully content with just watching the practice runs and how the crew worked around the car when it was brought back in before one more round around the circuit. I was just about to get a bit bored with everything when it was time for lunch and we could leave. For the afternoon I went for a little walk close to the track, and only met up again with Seb for dinner in the hotel’s restaurant.

I was a bit surprised when Mick joined us, but didn’t mind it one bit. He was funny and it felt like we have known each other for years already, even though this was just the second time in our whole lifetime. I could see Seb watching us, like a hawk, his grin not leaving his face once. I saw as he tried to speak up, the smirk giving him away, but by pushing his leg with mine I got him to close his mouth before uttering a sound. Britta almost choked on her next bite as she knew exactly what was happening, but tried playing it off. Luckily it didn’t seem like Mick realised what was happening around him, and I was glad Seb couldn’t make the night uncomfortable for everyone. He had that effect on situations like this, mostly when it was about me or his own children. They were lucky they were still too small to understand it.

“ You seemed to get on quite well. ” Seb spoke up when we were already on the floor of our rooms making me roll my eyes. He wasn’t someone I was about to have this conversation with gladly.

“ Well, he’s my age and kind. Not like you. ” I poked his side with my elbow, making the both of us laugh as we got to our rooms. With a quick goodnight both of us entered our separate rooms and got ready for the night. I was maybe looking forward to the next day a bit more than that day. Knowing I will have a bit more company made everything better.

The following day we got to the track early as Seb still had some interviews to do before practice. I knew we wouldn’t be able to have lunch together as the afternoon was about Qualification and he needed to focus, but I was sure I would find someone to eat with or maybe just go by myself this one time. What surprised me stepping inside the garage was Mick sitting in the same position as yesterday and a mug of piping hot coffee waiting for me next to his one. With a glare sent at Seb, who was snickering at the situation, I walked closer, sitting down on the stool. His gaze immediately lifted from his phone, looking at me with a smile.

“ Morning. ” I greeted him with the same smile, my hand moving to the cup in front of me. “ Is this for me? Or are you getting ready for a long day? ” I asked him chuckling, seeing as he shook his head a little, maybe even rolling his eyes.

“ Yours. The way you made it yesterday. Hope that’s really how you like it. ” He added, although I already got an answer to my question. It was really sweet of him to think about me, and even more, remembering how I made it just a day ago.

“ Thank you. Glad I didn’t hold back on the sugar then. ” I shook my head a little, taking a sip already and I was sure he followed my usual ‘recipe’ as it tasted the exact same way. “ Perfect! ” I added with a content sigh, my body finally waking up. I wasn’t made for early mornings, even though on most days I started my schedule quite early.

We had an almost exact repeat of the previous day, the only differences being that we had lunch, just the two of us, and that I stayed for the afternoon, watching the quali and rooting for Seb. I may have missed a few laps, being too distracted by our conversation but even when he only reached P13 I knew it wasn’t because of us not watching him. Seeing how frustrated he was I left him to Britta, knowing he didn’t like company so soon after suffering a kind of defeat. He usually just needed time to calm down and look at everything with a calm head again.

“ There’s usually a party on the beach after the races here. Usually the younger drivers are the one attending with some of the crews. But if you would like to come and Seb will be in the mood to relax, they probably wouldn’t mind having you guys there. ” Mick made me turn towards him from my position, a smile getting onto my face, while his was a bit unsure. “ I wouldn’t mind anyways. So you two can be my guest. ” He shrugged a little, his eyes averting between mine as I was looking straight at him.

“ Sure, thank you. He usually gets back to normal if he has some time to calm down. ” I let out a sigh looking towards the hallway where Seb disappeared just seconds ago. I was pretty sure that inside he was fuming at his starting position while Britta tried to talk a bit of sense into him.

Although I took a car back to the hotel with him, in the end he chose to have dinner in his room and I went to the canteen alone. Thinking back to the night I can’t even remember how I ended up at a table with some of the guys who were my age, with Mick to my side. There were a few of the F2 and even F3 drivers too, everyone talking and joking together. even though everyone had to have an early night we still spent a few hours together just talking, before everyone went to their own rooms. I did toss and turn for a little until I finally fell asleep and then stayed in bed almost all morning.

The first thing I got out of bed for was lunch before getting ready for the race and the party afterwards. I didn’t put on anything special as I always prioritised comfort over look and didn’t pack anything party worthy anyways. A light blouse, jeans and a sandal had to do it as it was everything I had for the few days I planned on spending in Abu Dhabi. Who thought I would get invited to a championship party during my first ever true race weekend. Not me, that’s for sure. I knew we would maybe have a drink or two with the ones close to Seb if the race goes well, but didn’t think I would get to celebrate with younger ones, no matter in which position they cross the finish line.

We left the hotel together for the track with Seb, the car dropping us off at the parking lot just prior to the entrance to the paddocks. I tried focusing on him,just making sure he knew he had my support too, although I couldn’t help but get into a short conversation with Mick. When I turned back to the older man he was already putting on his helmet, but sent me a smile, from which I knew he wasn’t mad at me for not being always next to him. I watched as he got into his car but then left for the grandstand, as I really didn’t want to be in the way of anyone, and opted for watching the race from the usual position. I thought it would be less stressful this way, as I was an outsider more than someone who knew a drive personally, but I was still a bit disappointed for him when they finished the last lap in front of us. I took the stairs down to the paddocks, entering the Ferrari garage even before Seb arrived back.

“ You did good. ” I hugged him when he got to me, although I knew simple words couldn't help after a season like his. It still felt right to tell him, making sure he knew we were still proud of him.

“ Thank you, but it wasn’t the best last season I would have asked for. ” He shrugged a little, putting down his equipment on the table next to him. “ I’m gonna have to get some interviews, photos done and change. We can leave after that if you don’t mind staying until then. ” He informed me, while I crossed my arms in front of myself.

“ Actually, Mick invited me to like a season ending party at the beach. Most of the younger drivers will be there, and you’re invited too if you would like to come. ” I told him, waiting patiently for his answer. “ But I don’t mind staying if you would like some company. ” I added, realising I took him not minding my absence for granted.

“ I’ll probably just have a quiet night, but you go and have fun. I’m fine with leaving you to him and the others. ” He shook his head, with a small smile still visible on his face. “ I’m gonna be miserable enough for the both of us, and we will have enough time to catch up after today. ” He added with a laugh when I was about to change my mind, pulling me into a side hug.

That’s how I ended up in a car with all the youngsters, after a quick introduction, that took us to the beach. It was probably a private section of the sandy path next to the water, as it wasn’t crowded and every face that came up to me was already familiar in a way. I couldn’t fault them for only partying in their own circles, as I could imagine the chaos some fans getting in would cause. No one needed that when they came here to relax a bit, after a stressful season full of training and working. I was just happy to take part in it and have a few drinks with the guys before dancing the night away. Looking back, I wasn’t that fed up with my choice of flat sandals, as even that was killing my feet when we got back to the hotel.

Even though I woke up with a killer headache, I wouldn’t have traded it if it meant changing the previous night's outcome. Despite the hangover, and having to fly home early, I felt refreshed and ready to take on the usually boring life at home again. It always filled me with energy if I could get out of the usual rhythm, and this time maybe the new contact in my phone helped too. To the stage that Seb was giving me curious looks when we got into the car already, and even more when just looking at the meaningless device made me smile a little wider.

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher fnafic #mick scumacher ff #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher oneshot #f1 #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 ff #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #formula one #formula 1 #bydonaidk #requested fanfiction #requested fanfic #requested

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leggomylino · 4 years

Text

Sunrise | Hwang Hyunjin

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Comedy

AU: Beauty and the Beast au

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: ~26k

Warning(s): Minorly dark themes, vague mentions of suicide, sparse censored language

A/N: It’s finally done! <3 | For Kumi, my dear friend. <3

Playlist:

Lighthouse → Hope

forever rain → RM

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17 @distrikt9 @hanstagrams @hyunsunq @smolboiseavey (let me know if you want to be added!)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

| Zero ❧

It was no lie that Hwang Hyunjin was what he was. A monster. A crook. A fiend.

But had that been his fault? No. Had it been his intention to piss off the old hag who showed up at his doorstep looking for shelter, who also happened to be a witch?

...Well, yes, technically. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she’d been a witch. He just assumed she was another ex-royal his father’s company had put out of business, bankrupt and seeking reconciliation. Another pawn knocked off the chess board.

So then was any of this really his fault?

Not in the slightest.

Late November was when colorful bouts of leaves piled in the corners and around the front doors of Everain Palace, when icy winds took hold from north arctic fronts and chilled all those who inhabited it to the bone, or at least, those unfortunate enough to end up imprisoned in the steely corridors below. Dank, gray shadows fell over the surrounding dark atmosphere of the cold stone walls, seeping in elongated coverage that fell over the once festering city of New Amber, now reduced to nothing but a sickly small town until the return of the harvest season. If anyone even bothered coming back.

It was no secret why no one ever wanted to come back. Everyone knew about the curse. Rumors spread fast, and as the head of his father’s company Hyunjin couldn’t hide his scarred face forever. Afraid of becoming infected, afraid it would spread, half of the town vanished within the first few days. Another half of what was left disappeared over the course of the following two weeks, and the number of residents continued to dwindle even after that, until Hyunjin couldn’t even tell you how many remained as of today, six years later. Ten, maybe twelve royals, some small groups of peasants temporarily settling in until they too were told about the curse, and the dark secrets of the young man who lived beyond its walls.

He was once beautiful until he ticked off the wrong old lady. Now he lives out his days staring at a reflection of who he once was.

The part he hated the most was that he couldn’t deny it was the truth.

“Mirror!” he called, clapping his hands once, twice, three times. “Where is my mirror?! Where the hell did you put it this time?!?”

Begrudgingly with a sigh a shadow cascaded down along the stone wall, manifesting into something three-dimensional only a moment later. Blue hair fluttered softly around smooth, rounded features, a lone earring sparkling faintly in the pale moonlight, accentuating ripped jeans and the confines of a pitch-black hoodie.

The whole ensemble was tacky and incredibly outdated. “Here…” His shadow said, holding out the small ornate mirror. His contractor grabbed it with anxious greedy hands, claws already beginning to form far too early thanks to the autumn equinox.

He paced away eagerly, collapsing to his corner of comforting feather downs and soft silk sheets, as he stared at a reflection of who he once was, who he used to be. How he would look today had he just pretended not to be home that ill-fated night.

“Jisung!” He barked, glaring angrily over his shoulder. “Come here.”

The boy-shadow sighed once more, nodding slowly as he had no right to refuse the man who had complete control over him. So he slowly sulked over toward the bed, shimmering at the seams as he passed through the inanimate threshold like a waking dream. Carefully his edges began to dissolve, bit by bit, until nothing but a faint air of smoke remained, settling dispersedly around the dim-lit bedroom.

Hyunjin never took his eyes off his past-in-the-present self, who only stared back at him with vacant, mournful eyes. “Show her to me.” he demanded, gently leaning a few inches forward. “Where is she?”

With careful swirls like a rippling tide the mirror faltered, spiraling and transforming the glass picture until the prince’s face was gone, the image of a girl taking his place.

Then another one. Then another one…

The mirror suddenly cracked. His hands tightened around the steel handle, a low growl resonating from behind parted lips curled up in a snarl.

“I’m sorry…” the mirror muttered, Jisung suddenly appearing out of the cracks to stand before him. “She’s still not here. I don’t know what you want me to do abo--”

“I don’t want you to do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, throwing down the mirror and shattering it into a million more pieces. “I just want her here! What’s taking her so long? Where is she?!”

“I--” Jisung winced as a few stray shards transpired through him, the feeling still foreign even after all these years and past mirrors similarly broken. “...I think these things just take time--”

“Time?! TIME?!?” Hyunjin was beyond livid. The moment he stood his servant shrunk back, nearly folding himself into the safe confinements of the old chiseled walls. “Time is something I don’t have. You know this, Jisung. If this goes on any longer I’ll…” His voice trailed off and he gulped, snatching a fistful of hair in his sharp dark claws. “...Why isn’t she here yet? What are you not telling me?”

“Telling you? Wha--”

“Shut up and answer me!” He demanded, slamming the boy against the wall. The poor guy would have sunken through had he, again, not been under such a binding spell. Instead the only thing he could do was resentfully comply, doing all he could to spitefully avoid eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know--”

“You’re working with her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin continued with narrowed eyes. He began to shake him, tightening his chokehold around the boy’s throat.

Jisung gasped a bit, nails gritting against the echoing stone walls. “I-I really don’...” He tried to choke out. “...I really don’t know. I swear. Honest.”

“Lies.”

The tightening intensified. Jisung felt like he was nearly going to burst.

That’s when he’d gotten the idea.

“Y-You’re right! I lied! I know where she is!”

The moment he was let go Jisung gasped for breath, grateful as the heavy sinking feeling of doom left his vacant bones. Hyunjin blinked once, twice before narrowing his eyes again, taking a careful step back.

“...I knew you were lying to me. Where is she?”

After holding up his hand for breath, his shadow slowly looked up from his knees, straightening and readjusting his strange, stretchy cufflinks of the hooded cloak he wore. “She’s lying dormant somewhere. I can get her for you.”

“Where?”

“Under...erm,” He awkwardly coughed. “...O-Over that way...out yonder.”

Hyunjin didn’t seem very keen on the way his servant waved his hand dismissively in the random direction of “out yonder”; but it was a risk he was willing to take. He was desperate. Three more days and...and…

“Fine,” he answered at last, lavishly turning his cape away from him to pace towards the half-opened window. “You have until sunrise to bring her to me. I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“Wha?! But she--”

“Fine! Twenty-four hours. And you better return with the right one, or else.”

He gave a precise gaze over the slender curve of his princely shoulders, and that was all it took for his shadow to sink out of sight into the folds of stone-pressed cement below, the clouds blotting out the last rays of moonlight around them.

| One ❧

“Y/n~ Y/n, hurry up!! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming…”

Your friend Rei ran another ten yards ahead, impatiently stopping for the umpteenth time for your slow-leisurely pace to match up. “Uuuugh, c’mon already!”

“I said I’m coming…!”

...Sheesh.

Autumn season. It was the time when the leaves changed their colors, one final requiem of individuality before fluttering away in the cool breeze, carried off somewhere to decompose and fall victim to the circle of life. It was also the time you and your friend Reiya, who you casually referred to as just Rei, spent all hours of the short-lived days travelling from village to town, in order to sell the wares of your fathers’ goods. They were both merchants, you see; it’s how the two of you had met, many years ago. But they were old now, the circle of life creeping up on them as well, and since all the men in your town were either taken or losers not worth your time, each of you vowed to take over the family business, carrying it wherever the wind decided.

...And anyway, neither of you were interested in the prospects of marriage; being tied down? And taking orders from some mustached buffoon? ...No thanks. It’s not that you hated the idea of settling down, just...not in your town. Not at your age. Not yet.

This way, things worked out well-- you and Rei got to travel the continent, avoiding arranged marriage and spending time in each other’s company selling your fathers’ wares and in turn, helping them out. They were free to enjoy a peaceful retirement while you added memories of wondrous places and escaped the evil clutches of a life tied down to a broomstick and a kitchen stove. It was perfect.

...Except for days like now, when you’d both woken up late and were at risk of losing a good place to set up shop. Your bad this time.

“Hurry up!!” Rei whined, doing her famous one-tap-two-step-hurry-up dance. The balls of her slippered feet hardly touched the stone pavement of the path leading to the city, her arms flapping like a chicken as she readjusted the triple-stacked backpack of goods from falling off her bony shoulders. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!!”

“I told you, I’m coming!” You groaned, having been stuck with cart duty. It may have been nearly empty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Normally it took two people to steer, in addition to horsepower by your trusted steed, Carrots, but unfortunately…

Carrots had too many carrots last night. And she wasn’t doing so well.

It wasn’t serious, but it would be at least another few hours before she got it out of her system, so this blissfully unfortunate morning it was you and Rei having to wing it...with you having pulled the short end of the stick.

“Nnnneiiigh,” Carrots groaned from behind you. You gave her a gentle pat while trying your best to nudge the cart over the last hill.

“It’s alright, girl. We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

She let out a whine, almost seeming to nod in understanding.

“Ahh, hurry!” Rei called again, making haste for the city gate’s checkpoint line. All merchants and traveling businessmen (or women) were required to have their items evaluated and checked by city officials before being licensed a temporary warrant to sell.

When you made it to the top of the hill, already out of breath, you deflated-- then just about fell over when you saw how long the line was.

Oh man. This is all my fault. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late…

“You look like you could use a hand.”

You turned around to find a tall...ish, slender boy, with hair the color of chocolate and big, round eyes to match. A single silver earring hung from his right ear. “Oh, uh, that’s okay…”

“...Han,” he clarified, gripping one side of the cart. “Han Jisung. Just let me handle this. You should probably go help your friend; she looks like she’s about to fall over.”

You peered around the other side of the small wagon to see that, indeed, Rei was playing a game of balance, swaying a bit too far this way and that as she wobbled on flat calloused feet toward the back of the long line. But you? Leaving your father’s shop in a stranger’s hands? Even if it was in a populated area, and he did seem genuine…

“That’s okay.” You told him, grabbing tighter onto your side. “I can take it myself, I’m used to it. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“...” He blinked at you a moment, doing nothing at all but staring. Just when you were considering calling for Rei to come back, though, he laid off, tossing smooth hands in the air before shoving them in the front pocket of the strange cloak he wore. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. If you insist, I’ll be on my way.”

He let go, and you felt the full weight of the cart pull your body downward, gravity affecting you in the worst way. ...Maybe…

“Um, hold on!” You shouted, and he stopped a quarter of the way down the hill, glancing up at you expectantly from over his left shoulder. Curse him. “Yeah?”

“...” You set your pride and suspicions aside. “...It would actually...well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to help. Just to the base of the hill.”

His eyes did the smiling for him, and was back at your side in seconds, taking the right flank while you managed Carrots and the left.

“Mind if I ask you something?” He pipped just steps later, eyes peering at you from over the cart as he jumped like a small puppy trying to see over a counter space. You groaned.

“I suppose I have no choice, so, sure. What is it?”

“Well…” He was beginning to mumble. “I know this may seem kind of sudden but, I have this...friend…”

“No.”

“Huh?”

The cart stopped rolling, delaying your schedule that much farther. “If this is headed where I think it is, I’m sorry but, I’m not interested. I’m very busy and I don’t have time for...love. Or a relationship. Other than the one I share with my customers.”

“Oh! No, no! Hahah…” Han had let go of the cart as well, scratching his cheek. “I-It’s not that! Nothing like that...I…”

His explanation was cut off by your sudden gasp, lunging forward to grab the cart as it started to descend down the steep slope. But it was too late; it slipped out of your grip like butter in a frying pan. “Oh no!”

The cart raced down the hill, gaining momentum and speed the farther it went. Crowds of people gasped as well, jumping and throwing themselves out of the speeding wagon’s path, until…

It reached the bottom, but it kept going. And it was headed right for Rei.

Horror-stricken, you jolted, racing down whilst cupping your lips to scream out a warning call. “Rei! Look out!!”

Rei turned around. Her eyes widened.

But she remained unscathed. In the blink of an eye something dark and ink-like had raced over the pavement and grass fields; it manifested beneath the wheels, and the cart just...stopped.

“Rei!!” You cried, letting go of Carrots to plunder to her side. She’d fainted, but Han was there to catch her.

Han…

You stared him down nervously from the other side. “...How did you get here so fast?”

He carried your friend to the shade of the forest surrounding the city walls, others whispering and already beginning to spread gossip. You tried to block it out and ignore the intense stares and glaring from eighty-or-so business-competitors, following Rei’s limp body and coming to rest beside it, pulling her head into your lap.

Though you were out of earshot, the whispering and curious eyes still followed you; so not good for business.

“Hey. I asked you something,” you said again, making sure to keep one eye on him, and one on the cart. “How did you get down there before I did? I didn’t even see you move.”

The strange boy didn’t say anything, save for laughing a bit. He then proceeded to ask you the oddest thing: “A man, or a beast...do you think we have a choice? On what we want to be?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed to form one solid unibrow. “Don’t ignore me. I asked you first. How did you get down there so quickly?”

Still, he refused to answer. “Technically, I asked you first. So you have to answer me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you replied, “but I will call for help if you don’t answer me right now.”

Seeing the anger on your face, the boy calling himself Han looked out into the near-distance, at the line steadily encouching forward and now forming a beeline around your abandoned shop. “Well, given that we are out of earshot...it’s not much of a threat, but...still,” he shrugged, almost to himself. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

He set himself down criss cross applesauce, next to Rei’s spaghetti legs. You huffed, attempting to protectively heave her a smidge closer to you. “Alright, well, go on.”

He gave you the goofiest grin. “Well, it’s quite simple, really! I just swooped under the wagon, and jimmied the breaks! Worked like a charm!”

You frowned, not at all appeased with that answer. “You...jimmied the brakes?”

“Yep!”

“And it just...stopped.”

“That’s right.”

“...You dove beneath a speeding wagon and managed to attach yourself underneath?”

“That’s what it sounds like~”

“That’s what it sounds like?!”

“Look, we can point fingers all day at who-did-what, but if you don’t hurry and get back in line, you’re not gonna have any place at all to set up your little shop of knick knacks or...whatever it is that you sell. Is that a snow globe?” He asked, reaching for Rei’s bag. You swatted his hand away.

“...Fine, whatever. Thanks for saving her, I guess…”

“And?”

You pressed a kerchief from your pocket to Rei’s forehead, smoothing ebony locks from her face. “And?”

Han smiled. Again. “You gotta pay me back somehow, right?”

“For doing a good deed? Do I?” You scoffed. “And here I thought you were doing it just to be kind…”

“Well now you know~ ...I mean—“ He swallowed at the glare you gave him. “...What I mean is, I did do it. To be kind. But I’d love if it you could still pay me back by coming with me to—“

“I’m not going anywhere with you or your dumb friend, if that’s what you’re asking. Just save it for the birds.”

Rei was starting to stir, twitching slightly, her eyes squinting in and out of consciousness. You began patting her cheeks and calling her name, but unfortunately, she still wasn’t fully there yet. That, and the annoying man at the other side of her wasn’t finished. “I have a proposal for you,” he stated.

“A proposal?” You didn’t like the sound of that. “...I’m not interested. Look, I’ll just, give you something from my shop, and you can be on your merry way, okay? Here, what about that snow globe you were eyeing before?” You reached over Rei’s body, fishing it out and handing him the novelty. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The glass globe held the contents of a small gray castle, surrounded in a sea of red roses. Han took the globe from your hand, examining the structure and looking almost nostalgically somber as he watched the fake snow fall. “...Thank you, but it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You groaned. “Look, just take whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“...What I want,” Han said, ignoring that last part of your statement, “is for you to answer my question.”

“What? What quest— aah, I told you already, I’m not—!”

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

The way he’d cut you off and stated his query so seriously made your head spin; it certainly caught you off guard, that was for sure. “...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast?”

Thoughts slowly circled your mind, not knowing what to think. You had no idea where any of this had come from, the only responses coming to mind countering questions: who is Han, what is he up to, why did he want to know what you thought of such a peculiar idea…

“Well?” He egged, leaning backwards.

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

What? Help you out?

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his, hoping that if you gave him an honest answer, perhaps he would leave. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

You didn’t know it, as you’d turned away; but the moment those words left your parted lips, his eyes shone with the hope of a thousand suns, dawning the horizon after the longest winter storm.

You’d turned away to shuffle for a bucket and some more handkerchiefs in Rei’s Bag of Wonders, holding out the bucket without turning your eyes away. “I changed my mind. Make yourself useful and get me some water from the nearby stream, or in town, whatever. Just—“

But when you cast your eyes back to where Han was sitting, he was gone.

| Two ❧

“You must have been having one hell of a dream to stay passed out for so long.”

“Ahaha…” Rei buried her fingers in her hair, entangling them in the sea of ebony that flowed behind her and came to a steady delta tied near the ends. “Sorry about that. It was like I wanted to wake up, but I just couldn’t. Like something...some kind of invisible wall was preventing me from doing so.”

“Hmm…”

The two of you had made it into town safely, with little trouble other than what you’d previously gone through with that strange boy, Han. After getting checked in and circling the shopping district three times, your luck finally began turning around when one of the vendors apparently felt ill and decided to turn in early; bad for him, but great for the two of you. The spot couldn’t have been more perfect, either: positioned right in the center of all the hustle and bustle, it attracted plenty of attention, and the moment you set up shop, customers came lining up at the window.

The two of you worked for hours to make up lost time, grinding your fingers to the bone, shuffling around each other to count coins, search for wares, and sign receipts of official purchase. By the time the lunch bell rang, you and Rei were about ready to fall over.

“I’m tired,” Rei moaned, collapsing to her knees and digging under the counter for your grocery supply. Woefully, her hand came back...empty. “Ah, we’re all out of bread! And apples…”

“What about that bag of trail mix you bought two days ago?” You asked while organizing receipts. Someone had to do it, and you knew Rei sure as heck wasn’t going to.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Carrots and I polished it off yesterday. ...Oh, carrots.” Her stomach growled right on cue, a forlorn sigh escaping dry lips. “...I’m so hungry...”

Something about that previous statement made you pause, inclining your head to the right in thought. …Carrots…Carrots…?

...Oh no. Oh hell’s bells, you’d completely forgotten about Carrots!

Without a moment to lose you dropped the stack of receipts you’d been tidying up onto the counter, hopping out of the wagon and running as fast as your boot-clad feet could take you. Your knees were still stiff and exhaustion weighed you down, but you couldn’t allow that to stop you. Not when that poor (dumb) horse was wandering and hopefully still waiting for you.

“Hey!” Rei yelled, her head leaning out the window. “Where are you going?! You forgot your coin purse!” She waved said object in the air, as if asking for a thief to come and swipe it. “I want lemons and some gum drops! I saw a candy shop about a block down!!”

“You can’t have candy for lunch!” You hollered back. “And I can’t right now, you’ll have to get lunch yourself today. There’s something I forgot.”

Her confused expression said everything else for her, but you didn’t have time to chat about lunch plans. You had to get that horse.

You ran with all your might (what little you had left) out of the shopping district, down three blocks, and past the city gate...that is, until a guard stopped you.

“Woooah there, little miss.” The man grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you backward; and he had quite the grip to boot. “I’m afraid you can’t just go hauling eighty out here like that. I’ll need to see some I.D.”

You cast anxiety-riddled eyes to the man, making sure each gesture showcased your anger. “What? To leave the city? ...But I’m leaving, not entering!” Your anxious gaze sought out into the trees, the pastures of bitter decay and spooky autumn silence where Carrots was last seen. “Please, I need to get out there. My horse is missing, I’m afraid I forgot about her after a...mishap...and ended up abandoning her. She’s sick, so I don’t have time to play games!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, ma’am, but rules are rules. Show me your I.D., please.”

“I…! …”

Reluctantly, you yanked your arm away, digging for…

...Nothing, because you’d forgotten your coin purse. The image of Rei waving it with pride and worry left a bitter taste in your mouth. And your vendor verification permit was left in the shop, as well. “...I don’t have any. My permit is with my co-partner, back in the shopping district.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll just have to go back and get it, then.”

“What?! I don’t have time for that!” You turned pleading eyes to the officer, prayerfully searching for understanding alongside a missing horse. “Please sir, she couldn’t have wandered very far. I’ll be right back! I’m only going--”

He shook his head. “Sorry miss, like I said, rules are rules. Because of the recent string of kidnappings, all residents and visitors alike are required to provide valid identification before coming in or leaving city walls. Mayor’s orders.”

You’d been thinking about making a run for it or finding another guard to reason with until the word kidnappings made its way into the conversation. Normally you would have been curious and not too concerned...however…

...That’s considering you heard it from a local paper floating in the breeze, or along the gossiping grapevine from one vendor to another, one chatty socialite to the next whispering to each other among the lively bustle of city life. Why were you just now hearing about it here? From an officer? How long had this been going on?

In all the questioning silence, you basically forgot about...what was it you were looking for again? “Um, forgive me for prying, but...kidnappings?”

“...E-Er...that’s...” The officer flinched, taking a half step back. “...Um...well...dammit all…” He removed his thick uniform hat, scratching his head a moment before readjusting it to fit tall and proud. He cleared his throat. “...Please forget I said anything. If you wish to leave the city, I’ll need to see some valid I.D.”

“......”

He simply stood there, pretending as if nothing had happened. The only proof you had was the sweat swimming along his forehead, but surely he’d blame that on the nonexistent autumn heat and the fullness of his uniform.

You had no choice but to reenter the masses.

- ❧ -

When you return to the gates, the same officer approved of your vending license (still sweating from that “autumn heat,”) signalling for the men in the tower to let you through. It was late afternoon now, the skyline growing dangerously close to dusk; when you’d returned to shop a while earlier, you couldn’t admit to Rei that you’d lost her best friend next to you (though some friend she was having no idea about the whole thing...), so you were left with little choice but to play along and have lunch until it was time to work again. The late-day crowds were always far less stressful than morning shifts, so confident she would be fine on her own you took back off for the South entrance the moment the work bell rang.

“Carrots...Carrots...looking for a food-poisoned horse…”

Sigh. The words were a groan from your lips as you trudged about a floor of dead leaves and twisted bare tree branches. The skyline was starting to wear thin, every step you took noisy and either resulting in startling a field mouse or alerting a wandering bear out of hibernation of your whereabouts. Not an ideal situation to be in.

I’ve been wandering these woods for three hours now. Dang it, where is she?! ...Normally, Carrots was a good horse; she followed you around, did as told, and when you did lose her (...as this wasn’t the first time…) she stayed put and waited for you to return; like that time in Cresentmoon Harbor (for it was literally shaped like a crescent), when you and Rei had been so distracted by some dashingly handsome fisherman named Minhee and wanted to hear his tales of the rough blue sea that you’d, yes, left your horse astray, where a group of thugs almost snatched her.

That had actually been a fun day, watching Rei throw apples and trinkets and club the ringleader with his own beatstick. This time, however, you’d known exactly where you left her. You were sure there were no gangs or thugs near a place like this; not a clean-cut, safeguarded place like Westwind...any yet, Carrots hadn’t been there. Not at the top of the hill where you left her, or beneath it, beside it, or anywhere nearby.

...Although...didn’t that cityguard mention something about kidnappings?!

That stupid horse. I knew I should have overruled Rei and named her Dumdum. She went and got herself kidnapped! URGH, I had to go pulling the short end of the stick today--

A sharp wind blew by without warning, causing you to shiver. Mournfully, you wondered if maybe you should turn back and enlist Rei’s help after all...have her summon back that courageous, beatstick-smacking frenzy…

Oh, but how heartbroken she’d be to hear of Carrot's disappearance! ...It was all for naught, though...

Carefully, you turned around and began walking the way you came, one step, then two...then stopped. Looking out into the moors, the forest beyond, the stretch of trees and forest decay that went on for miles and miles seemed...different, somehow. It went on for miles and miles and...miles and miles and miles. It didn’t seem to have an end.

I know I didn’t walk that far… Now now, Y/n. Can’t see the forest for the trees, hm? It’s no big deal, I just wandered a bit farther than I thought. I’ll start heading back now.

Because Rei was the fun-loving, clueless bubbly-type, you had to be the strong one (not including Wild, Pissed-Off Rei). You were the confident, analytical, and ambitious of the two. You prefered logic and data, and relied almost whole-heartedly on common sense, with few exceptions. And as any rational person of your nature would, you’d made sure to mark the entire way you’d come; so it was no big deal, wandering out a bit farther than you had intended.

...Except...

...The first marker never came. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You walked in the opposite direction for precisely 1,000 steps and counting, and all that greeted you were the same exact scene of bare trees and dead leaves. In the same order. In the same tones and volumes and shapes.

It was going to start getting dark in the next two hours. You stopped, thinking. Running numbers. Fishing for data…...fishing…...fish…...Minhee...heheh…

No, no! Staying on track was crucial at a time like this…!

But you ended up standing there, for another ten, twenty minutes maybe, not sure what to do. There was a strange vibe in the air, you could feel it. The way it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. Rattling your bones. It almost felt like it was bribing you in another direction.

So you did an illogical thing unlike your nature: you kept walking straight ahead, ignoring it for as long as you could. But dammit, the scenery never changed! Not after an hour, not after two…

You were tired at this point, collapsing hopelessly by the same tree you passed a hundred times...and then you got an idea, like a fog lifting from your brain (Why hadn’t you thought of this sooner?!). Grabbing a twig, you made a small notch in the tree. Then you took off running, jogging at a brisk pace. Never making a single right or left turn, not even in the slightest. Headed only one direction, following alongside the setting sun.

That same notch bid you a pleasant hello eight and a half minutes later. To make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, you walked another eight and a half minutes; same notch, same place, same twig resting lifelessly to the right. Same tree.

It was getting dark now. Soon the sun would be completely gone over the horizon, tucked away for twelve hours of sleep before returning to shine light on a new day. And you had no horse to show for it; more importantly, you were lost. Trapped in some kind of...weird bermuda triangle of decaying forest with no sign of life anywhere.

Great, just great. I hate my luck… wait…

...Ah, yes. Conveniently, just when you’d thought to possibly scream out your frustrations into your work apron, rattling on about how much luck despises you, and how you despise her back, maybe shed a few tears since no one was around, a tower of billowing smoke caught your attention, a sign of life that hadn’t been there before.

. . .

You should have been more cautious. Normally, you would have been. But given recent events…

“Hello…?” You called softly, pushing the door open; though, let’s be honest, the door really seemed to just...open itself. “Is anybody here?”

The house was old and worn. A small cottage just big enough for one, it must have been at some point; now, it was practically all but decayed along with the surrounding forest. Another heap of dead wood and rotted roots among many. A faintly ripe and sickeningly sweet scent wafted about the torn chamber, wrapping around sagging furniture, torn drapes, and a half-caved roof that gave clear sight to the full moon, bulging and cackling in a clouded manner.

It was a stark contrast to the decrepit old woman beckoning you from within.

“Yes, yes… Come in, my child.”

| Three ❧

A few hours earlier, Han Jisung had just been minding his own business, a faceless shadow of a dark hood browsing Westwind goods, humming a fiery tune, all while coming up with a plan for smuggling an innocent human girl into the cursed city of New Amber. He was pleasantly aware of the time; he had exactly ten hours left before he was due back at the palace, girl in tow, in order to keep his handsome blue-haired head and devilishly charming eyes.

He had time. The two cities may have been four hours apart on horseback, a diagonal stretch of twisted forest and steep valleys between them, but being a shadow he could just-- ...zip...and zig...and...zag...right beneath the… … …

...He wouldn’t be returning alone. He was transporting a human girl. That had no magical curse or powers to speak. The only way to return was the old-fashioned way...which meant…

He only had half the time he thought he did. Balls.

Making his way through the afternoon crowds, he followed three winding back alleyways before making sure the coast was clear of wandering eyes, seeping into the broken cobblestone and dashing through history below, long forgotten structures and fossils of stories past: a mineshaft, a tavern sign, a snuffed-out bonfire. At just a block away he set out a brisk pace for where he last placed a tracking mark upon the one known as Rei.

It had been a simple plan; since Y/n was impossible to get near, he merely embedded a small tadpole of his shadowy spirit into the other. Since they traveled together, where one was found, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Find Rei, find Y/n.

But beside that fact, it was starting to itch; being without a part of him for too long caused an empty, nagging feeling to rise and fall through his bones like a waxing, waning tide, going back and forth, back and forth. It got downright maddening after a while, almost like an addiction, to the point where eventually, he couldn’t stand to be without himself any longer. If he wasn’t whole, what was he?

...For a shadow...being whole meant everything.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he greeted her, the girl whose life he very well saved. Rei turned around from her stockpile of cash, where she placed many bags of coins in the Candy For Me! ♫ pile and few in the Dumb Taxes :( pile.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Her face lit up tenfold; an oddity given the fact she should have been unconscious for ninety-percent of their previous encounter... “You’re the guy that saved me before! I thought you looked familiar!”

She threw a tarp over the stacks of cash she’d been organizing before, as if that was going to...protect it, or something. She rested her chin in palm, elbows propped upon the counter space. Smiled.

“So what brings you by? What can I help you with? Oh,” she smirked, wagging a single brow. “Could I interest you in this love potion?”

A bottle of perfume made its way between them from out of nowhere, dangling like mistletoe. It...Han couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for Y/n by chance, would you~?” Rei asked.

The proposed bottle had the painted label scratched off, where the replaced paint job read Love Potion No.9, along with a price tag of thirty-five coins. Han chuckled, doing his best to play off the awkward gesture. He had to tear his eyes away from it.

“Thank you, but no,” he stated, gently lowering her arm to the table. The sliver of his missing portion swam back into him, through his fingertips and up his arm, and this didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Rei, though he distracted her into shrugging it off. “I actually am looking for Y/n, if you happen to know where she is? I suppose you’re right about that part, actually.”

“Oh? Really?!” Rei’s face lit tenfold...again. She squealed. “Eeeeek, I knew it! Oh, I just love when this happens!”

Her face thrust straight into his, nearly close enough to kiss. It startled him into backing distance.

“What is it?!?” She cried excitedly. “What do you need to see her for?! Oh, please tell me it’s to exchange letters! Or trinkets!” She looked like the shadiest business woman ever in the next second. “Y/n may have said she was organizing paperwork, but I knew what was really going on. Tee-hee!”

“...Ahh…” ...Shoot, what the hell was he supposed to say?! This girl didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being let down... “...There’s something I…” He gulped. “There’s something I wish to show her. Before setting out, that is.”

“Oh…” Her frown encased her disappointment. “I see...well, actually…” She twirled a strand of sleek black hair away from her tan complexion. “Y/n left about an hour ago...no, it has to have been longer than that…” Her frown deepened, looking off into the distance. “She took off as soon as lunch ended, and she hasn’t come back yet. I think she said she was looking for something…? But…”

Now she was looking down vacantly into the counterspace. There was a dull sheen in her eyes.

“...I’m starting to worry. Y/n never just runs off for hours on end like this. It’s not like her at all. ...What if something…”

Han put a stop to that thought: one, because he hated seeing girls cry, and two, because he could tell she was the messy-crier that would get snot and tissues everywhere, including his hair and earring; also there was three: his ass on a silver platter, courtesy of His Angry-Cursed-Forever Highness. If he failed to secure Y/n…

He didn’t wanna think about it. Which is why he swiftly set Rei upright, patting her shoulders and promising that he would go out and look for her. She couldn’t have wandered far, seeing as her whole livelihood was on the line (and in the hands of someone like Rei…whom he didn’t know that well, but still…)

“Can you give me an idea of where she may have gone? Which way did she go?”

“Yeah, sure! She went that way, and, oh yeah, she took our vending license with her! Do you think she could have gone to City Hall, maybe…?”

It was unlikely. City Hall was in the other direction, to the north-east; and according to Rei, Y/n had ventured south. The only thing there was lower-class common folk and the city gates, meaning the only conclusion he could come to was that she needed to verify her legitimacy in order to continue business, or she needed out.

After questioning some guards under a guise of glamour and shade (which was necessary for...private reasons), he was at last directed to a middle-aged man who claimed to have allowed the girl to leave some three to four hours ago. Before they could get an answer out of him as to why he wanted to know, Han vanished into the shadows like a thief in the night, slipping through the straying crowds towards the nearest alleyway, where he plopped down, zipped below, and popped right back up on the other side of the great city wall.

Removing his hood, he looked around, scanning the area for any clues of Y/n’s whereabouts. But, of course, nothing.

Dammit, it was getting late! It was already late!

Han bit his nails, fuming. Pacing. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t…!

...Sigh. Screw it all. He’d just have to look for her. If he found her fast enough, he could come up with some plan to make it back to Everain before sunrise.

He began his search heading South, into the clamour of trees. Past one tree, two, five, twenty. Deeper and deeper he traveled, gradually becoming one with the earth and expanding his search among the elements. Beneath the earth, brushing against roots of trees and flowerbeds, he could “see” everything-- as far as a twelve mile radius.

His shadowed extensions stretched over the land, covering all ground within reach like the hands of a clock, time traveling faster and faster until…!

...He found it. Er, her. His senses zoomed in on a house, caved in from years of age and resentment, crumbling to dust even now outside the confines of Y/n...and……someone else…

...Someone he knew.

Out of breath, he nearly choked in the enclosure of his own realm, eyes wide and heart frozen stiff. It took every last bit of strength to push himself free, for he couldn’t escape fast enough; not when a demonic witch like her was around.

Except...he’d started to run the wrong way. And then he stopped entirely, unable to move.

He hated that decrepit old hag. After everything that happened...the magic, the sorrow, the black fires of hell...he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d sworn that the moment he saw her again, it would be too soon. The witch that had taken his humanity.

It was she who had cast them all to hell in a handbasket, after all.

Standing there beneath the blotted night, gentle caresses of wind cascading and percolating through strands of brown and blue, he looked down to his bare hands, setting focus to the rivets of small scars where rivers of shadow flooded his veins.

A knock at the door. A sneer. A warning glare.

He tightened his grip on the air, so free and billowing carelessly in contrast to him.

A push. A harsh remark. A confident smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Anger… Resentment… Fire…

And…then…

He gasped for air once more. Not now. Now was not the time to think. He needed to act, to push all of this past him. It was the only way to break the curse and save Hyunjin, and in return, himself. The entire palace of Everain— the whole city, perhaps— was counting on him.

...Shadow. The only thing I remember...is black.

Cringing, he threw caution to the wind, where fear was meant to reside with the birds.

- ❧ -

The house was as old and vile as the woman who lived there. Vines snaked and slithered their way around the entire enclosure like a brood of thorned vipers, between cracks in the wall panels and over the steps leading to a gaping front door, just asking to trip its prey into it’s dark clutches. Into her clutches; those wrinkled leathered hands dripping with metaphorical blood and darkness.

Han hated all of it. He’d known about the Witch’s home for a long time, but he refused to ever step foot on her accursed soil (...until now, that is). The problem was, her biome was always changing, shifting and teleporting all over the place. Few unlucky souls who had survived to see it dubbed it Howl’s Moving Castle.

That title entirely ruined the book for him. Not that he particularly enjoyed reading, anyway; but he refused to lift it or so much as look at the book’s spine resting in the lavish, dusty library back home.

“Hey,” he called, marching right in. There wasn’t time for cold feet or second thoughts; if he didn’t have Y/n, there would be no point in going back. Returning without Y/n meant certain death via Hyunjin, but going through the Witch’s Biome meant likely death via whatever disdainful plot the Witch could come up with. At least facing the Witch’s path, he had a slim chance of making it out alive. If he were fast enough.

He’d thought about it on the way over: before, he had no powers to speak of. He’d been a regular, average teenage boy just trying to make it up and through adulthood, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. But with the Witch’s curse, all that changed; he was essentially one with the darkness; and darkness was everywhere. Especially here.

Assuming Y/n was conscious and able to move, he calculated that with high enough confidence and self-esteem, he should have no problem distracting the foul old hag long enough for his last hope to escape. (And Lord knew he had plenty of that to go around...)

Darkness clouded the entire room, choking out all light save for a few small rays of moonlight. The temperature seemed to be dropping 10 degrees every second. “Hello?” He tried again, checking left, right. “I...I know you’re here. Witch.” He was already beginning to seethe. “Come out. Where is Y/n?”

There was no response. Nothing creaked, no one croaked. Not even the wind outside made a sound.

Then something darted behind him, to the right, and he parried the opposite direction, biting his lower lip. Here it came. The worst part.

A single field mouse made its way into the faint slivers of rooftop moonlight. And there it sat, perched on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and tail dancing rhythmically across the uneven floor.

“How do you like?” came a creaky frail voice from beyond. Her voice was a sour note to his ears.

Han gritted his teeth, tasting blood on the horizon. “I’m not here to rate your latest experiments,” he spat. “That better not be Y/n. Show yourself, now.”

A lingering moment passed before the fleabag chuckled, stepping ancient bones into the small pool of light. “Alright, alright,” she said, in a mockingly chiding tone. “No need to get so angry. That’s what got your friend into so much trouble, after all. And look what it did to you.”

Two minutes in, and she was already hitting a nerve. Nerves that needed to remain untouched were his plan to go smoothly. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you. You already ruined me. What more could you possibly do?”

A dark foreboding thought brewed up a storm in her eyes, just lingering on the edge of sanity. “Believe me,” she rasped, “I showed you both mercy.”

Han flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to explode, yet cower in terror, all at once. He was livid, yet terrified-- anxious-- and a little sick to his stomach. “Give me Y/n. Right now. I didn’t come here to chat.”

The old woman smiled. “I can’t,” she simply stated, not moving an inch.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re standing on her.”

Horrified, Han shot his gaze downward. Corsarn, he didn’t think he’d been standing on anything but the…!

But there was nothing but paled wooden planks. The Witch laughed. “Ahahah, not physically on her, dear. Though this house is so old, you may as well be...I’m surprised the floors haven’t caved in to match the roof.”

After holding her gaze a moment too long, he took a step back, flitting his eyes between Witch and supposedly underground wardrobe. “Open the door. Slowly.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be taking your orders?” She scoffed, sighing at the end. “My, how times have changed…”

“Just do it!” he ordered.

The Witch gave a stern, slight scowl. “Oh, fine. I’m out of enough magic to put another curse on you anyway,” she muttered. Tapping her ancient walking stick once, twice upon the rotting floors, something clicked below, and the square space where Han had been standing swung open. “Just so you know,” she added, “I took the liberty of having a little fun, as you probably already guessed. She’ll be out for a few hours, but I don’t foresee death in her future; at least, not in the near one,” she chuckled.

“You--!” ...Rrgh. He still had to bite his tongue. His lip was already going to be busted and sore tomorrow.

Trotting down steadily with caution, before the gaze of a putrid old smile he descended the hidden staircase, never once letting his guard down. The girl he sought was safely snoozing in one piece, lying like a waking dream...other than being unconscious.

He gathered her up, using shadow to cross the room, just in case a trap was lying dormant on the way over, and with Y/n in his arms, he almost thought about attempting to drag her into the Shadowworld with him, just so he didn’t have to face the old has-been again and make a clean getaway.

But it was too risky. And likely, it wouldn’t work; so carefully, he placed one nimble foot in front of the other, across the blank room, up the stairs, and into the familiar darkness from moments before. The Witch was still waiting for him, still as a statue in the exact location she had been. She followed him all the way to the door, tittering at his suspicion of the whole thing.

She then watched as they made it off the porch. “Here,” she announced, sensing his urgency; for he’d just been about to make a run for it before she called him.

Nervously, he turned around halfway, holding Y/n tighter.

The bat continued her chuckling. She scooped down surprisingly swift, tossing something gray and furry into the air. It landed haphazardly onto his arm, clinging for dear life to his sleeve with a faint squeak! before scampering up to his shoulder. “Take him,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I have no need for the pitiful thing. He can keep you company on your way back.”

Company? Oh, no no no. He didn’t think so. He wasn’t stupid; Han knew of her tricks. The rat was probably a spy, or some kind of ticking time bomb. Forcefully, he shifted his grip on the girl, snatching the creature from its place--

...Except, he meant to throw it back. He did. He would have tossed the wretched thing to the ground and stomped on its brains without a second thought.

But it’d cried. Shrieked. Wailed. He knew the sound of terror when it howled.

Glancing up, he saw that it was crying. Actually crying.

Something was off. It had to be human...or at least, have some sort of intelligent wit.

Loosening his grip, he allowed the creature to squirm and wiggle its way free, scampering up his arm and tucking itself fearfully in the pouch of his hood with a nosedive. Sensations of trembling fell against his upper backside.

“Take care on your way home; you may need it.”

A twisted smile. Tch.

Glowering amongst the laughter, he left the darkness behind him.

| Four ❧

“How may I assist you, dear?” The old woman asked.

Your eyes scanned the area, dilating and adjusting to the faint light. “I’m sorry,” you began, giving a small, polite bow. “I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Oh, now, that’s alright~” The woman insisted, beckoning you farther in. “Come, come, sit! Make yourself a home. I’m the one who invited you in, yes?”

“...” Carefully you nodded, moving with caution to take a seat at the dusty worn table.

“Now,” she said, popping joints as she settled across from you. “What can I do for you today?”

“...Do for me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes…” Her eyes were impenetrable, boring into yours. You had trouble looking away. “No one comes here without a purpose. There are no happy accidents.”

“......” Again, you found yourself hesitating, having trouble forming the right words. Words were becoming a limited resource all of a sudden.

“Well~?” the woman pressed.

“...” You swallowed dryly. Something just wasn’t right; but who were you to lie to an old woman? In her own home, nonetheless. “I’m looking for someone...my horse, actually.”

“Hmm, I see…”

“She wandered off...well, no, that’s not true.” You sighed. “I left her by accident. I abandoned her without meaning to, out front of Westwind city. We’d woken up late, my friend and I, and in our hurry and a near-death experience thanks to someone, I ended up forgetting all about her. When I went back to fetch her and bring her home, she was gone.”

“Oh, my…” The old woman was still smiling. “That sounds like some adventure the two of you had! Though, tell me…” She tilted her head. “Who is this “someone” that got in your way?”

“Hm? Oh,” You sighed, again. “Some strange boy that just showed up out of nowhere and offered to help me move the cart downhill. He’s no one special.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, he must be to have stepped up and offered you assistance in this day and age,” she replied. “What was his name?”

There was an intensity you didn’t like. As if she were interrogating you for answers.

Dryly, again, you swallowed.

“Han-something, I think. Han...Jisung.”

That’s when it had been over. But you hadn’t known that; not yet.

“Han Jisung…” The woman repeated. She was clearly searching the archives.

Then she found what she was looking for, and curving crooked fingers skyward, she beckoned your hands to be placed atop of her on the table.

“Give me your hands, dear. I know just what it is that you need.”

If only you hadn’t listened to her…

- ❧ -

You were no fool. You saw what the witch had done to you, just before falling unconscious.

Stirring now, you curled into the weight of something dark and soft, something sheltering and warm against the cold night air. Whatever it was held you tighter, the world slowing down.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ow. Yes.

One of the side-effects must have been a splitting headache…

“Yes...I can hear--”

Rrpt! Hold on a second. You knew that voice…!

In all haste you shot upright, only to collide foreheads with Han Jisung, the both of you growling in pain. Your headache just got ten times worse.

“Ow…! Sh*t, of all times and places…” After counting one, two Mississippis for the pounding to decrease, you sent him a glare, blurry vision mixed with clouded judgement. “What are you doing? What’s going on, where are you taking me?!”

The foolish boy snorted, ignoring you to continue walking. As your eyes cleared of drowsiness, you could see the two of you were alone, out in the middle of the forest. “A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt, y’know. I did just finish saving your life a few hours ago.”

“You…?” Hesitantly, you looked around again, pressing a hand to your forehead in feeble attempt to decrease anymore throbbing heartbeats. “...Where are we? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put me down this instant.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who was just cursed and knocked out.”

“I said, put me--! …”

You paused. The whole world seemed to.

Carefully, slowly, you turned your face back towards the sunlight. “...Wh...What did you say?”

Han snorted. Again. “You heard me. You waltzed right into the Witch’s Biome like an idiot, and now you’re one of us. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Hyunjin…”

...You’d stop listening towards the end. Everything just naturally tuned out, your eyes falling aimlessly to stare vacant holes into the dimensional rift of the traveling space around you.

“In case you’re wondering,” Han’s voice cut through, calling for your attention once more. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you to my friend; well, he’s really more of my...uhm…”

You waited vacantly for an answer.

“...Uhhh…”

You didn’t have time for this. Not that anything mattered or made sense anymore. Still, you weren’t going to idly sit here and listen to Tweedle Dee make dumb noises the rest of the night. “He’s what?” you pressed, aggravation clearly showing. “Is he your master or something?”

Han Jisung nearly dropped your hungover cursed arse. Which told you you were right, even if he kept insisting you were wrong. It was pretty funny to see him fuming and hot under the collar the rest of the walk.

Speaking of walking, you had fidgeted and demanded to walk by yourself, but after nine nos and a tenth yes, you found you had absolutely no strength in your wobbly, jelly-like legs. Resulting in Han carrying you like an unfortunate groom once more.

Yes, you’d argued for him to take you back. But no, he refused.

Which meant he had to be that kidnapper the city guard mentioned after all.

This lead you to be afraid, and rightly so; what if Han killed you?! What if he actually was dangerous, and he had been lying to you from the start. Nothing he’d been saying up until this point made sense anyway; and just look at the way he was dressed. Only crazy people wore such strange, unusual attire, so futuristic and bizzare-looking.

And, you noticed, the closer you got to...wherever he was taking you...the more and more his appearance changed.

It was gradual, slow at first; just a random strand of hair, a speck of color in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, out of nowhere, it was like time sped up around him, and his eyes became a solid, bright blue, his hair a darker contrast, and that lone earring he wore shimmered with a paradoxical bright darkness, like shadows giving birth to light.

It was...insanity. Yet, regrettably, you had to admit he’d grown incredibly attractive.

Han didn’t speak much the second half of your trip, and neither did you. You were too busy trying to process what was happening, and he was lost in his own world, eyes never leaving the road ahead except to occasionally check on you. It was a nonverbal communication: Are you still doing okay? / Yes, I’m fine. Quit staring at me. / Yeah, okay, you’re welcome.

About two hours later, the two of you arrived at the gates of an old, rustic castle, and a city that looked all but lost.

| Five ❧

Your headache had at last subsided by the time you arrived at Everain Palace. ...Or at least, that’s what the sign said it was called. You were barely able to read it through the layers of rust and vines, however. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” your entourage announced, setting you down beside him. “It’s been a few hours now, so you should have the strength to walk again, at least to your room. But I’m sure I can get some lackey somewhere to carry you the rest of the way if you can’t manage.”

“Hold on...what?”

“What?”

He finished setting you down, and you wobbled your way back a few steps, leaning against the gate’s archway for support. “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I have to get back to Rei and find Carrots, my stupid horse. Then, I’m renaming her Dumdum and we’re sweeping all of this under the rug.”

Instead of laughing, or perhaps getting a little angry even, Han Jisung stared at you with the most pitiful glance anyone had ever given another human soul. It was dreadful, but soft, somewhat loving, and oozing with regret.

And then he said those abysmal words you were scared of hearing all along.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m afraid you won’t be traveling anywhere anytime soon.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. This was it, you thought. The truth revealed. He really was a kidnapper; and now, you were his next victim. The whole charmingly dopey and idiotic act had been just that: an act. And you’d fallen for it.

So you did the next thing you could think of, seeing as fighting and running away were out of the question in your weak and disoriented state.

“KIDNAPPER!!!” You screamed. “THIEF! HUMAN TRAFFICKING!! HELP!!!”

But soon you remembered your surroundings, where you were at this time: a rundown city that appeared to have been abandoned for years, closed off in an eternal slumber. Everything was covered in vines and dust, and hardly anything made a sound.

You were doomed.

Han rushed over quick to keep your mouth shut while sweating at the seams, but a chomp to his hand did him right good, and while he was bouncing around and airing out his hand like a blubbering buffoon you tried making a run for it. Keyword: tried.

In the end, you only made it as far as the circle of trees isolating this town before something pierced the back of your neck, and you were a prisoner of sleep all over again.

- ❧ -

You aren’t quite sure; perhaps you slept for eight, nine hours. All you knew is that when you awoke, there was sunshine pouring through the curtain-laced window like the brightest waterfall.

A...curtain-laced window...and silk sheets… … …

You hopped to it the next second that thought circled your mind.

No. Oh, no…

...This certainly wasn’t your room. Your room was with the stars, the ocean, the grassy plains and trees, Rei at your side. This was an actual room, complete with a bed, canopy, dresser and wardrobe, a nightstand, and an additional table with matching chairs, four to be exact; two large windows, standing side by side at opposite ends of the room to your left. One beside the table, one near the door.

There was a note left for you on the nightstand (to your left) as well.

Y/n -

I’m sorry I had to knock you out like that. But you’re one of us now, and I can’t afford to let you leave. It’s important. Lives are at stake. You have to trust me, please.

There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. More like I need you to. I’ll explain more later, when you’re awake. If you read this and you still don’t feel well, feel free to take another couple of hours to yourself, to get your bearings; but don’t sleep for too long. I’ll wake you when we’re more pressed for time.

Again, I’m really sorry about all this. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me, but I get it if you need more time. Just promise not to take it out on Hyunjin, if you happen to run into him first.

Signed, Han, your kidnapper

There was an additional piece of paper that fell from behind the original.

P.S. - That was just a joke. Don’t freak out. I’m not a bad guy, really. At least, not as bad as you probably think I am.

…

You didn’t know what to think of anything anymore. This was all just too much. What on earth had happened to you? How did you get roped into all of this? ...You’d just wanted to find Carrots, and bring her home so Rei wouldn’t be sad and you wouldn’t feel guilty and the two of you could save the trouble of having to buy a new horse, train him, yadda yadda yadda. Instead you stupidly and ill-fatedly stumbled upon the home of an actual witch, walked right in, and told her things you probably shouldn’t have. You didn’t like the way she’d looked at you when you mentioned knowing Han Jisung.

The Mark of the Rose, the witch had slurred, eyes wide with a sinister grin. A blessing, and a curse.

Then she’d spouted some sort of riddle:

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

...She hadn’t told you what the heck any of that was supposed to mean. For one, how could plaguing you with a mark from some wicked sorcery be a blessing?! And, what’s more...how was it a curse…? ...Her strange chanting hadn’t made any sense, though that last part had sounded nice...maybe that was the blessing?

Something made a skittering, scuffling sound. Turning to your left, something small and fuzzy caught your eye, climbing up a chair leg and coming to rest on the cushion above. It was...holding a crumb of cheese. Sitting there like a person, flat on his bum.

It was some kind of rodent.

You bristled all over, hair standing on end. “A RAT!!!” You shrieked, leaping from bed to dresser. Thankfully it had been bare atop the surface, minus the unlit candle and some kind of ornate mirror, which was an unfortunate accident. Seven years of bad luck was just what you needed, on top of everything.

The moment you let out a cry of alarm, the mouse similarly screamed-- possibly louder than you-- spasming out of the chair and running in circles with sweat flying from its brow until it ran into another chair leg and clocked out, rolling into the path of sunlight.

You’d been about to grab that discarded candle as a weapon until the room became incredibly bright. Clouds parted from outside, sunlight magnifying to flood the whole room.

And then, when the sunlight narrowed to pierce the unconscious vermin straight through its heart, he became a boy.

Hair the color of sunset and cheeks flushed rosy pink, full of freckles scrunched his nose, squinted, and wearily stared back at you, upside down. Prayerfully, by some miracle, he was still wearing clothes.

That didn’t change the fact that you had no idea what to make of this sudden development. You stood there, hunched frozen atop the dresser, candle half off the floor and jaw nearly there.

“Hn-- nnnngh…” he groaned, sitting up with a hand to his head, much like you had leaving the Witch’s Biome-- that’s what Han had called it, right? “...Ouch...that’s the last time I go exploring on my own…” He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving a kind, tired smile. “Thanks for turning me back! I’m sorry I scared you, Y/n.”

Your candlestick went flying across the room.

“OW!!!”

“WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!” you yelled. An accusatory finger followed. “This isn’t funny, and I’ve been through enough now! I’m sick of playing games, give me an answer right now or I’m throwing this broken mirror next!”

The door burst open. “What’s going on in--?! …”

Han Jisung was staring at Mouseboy curiously at first, widen eyes unblinking, you on the dresser second, a careful blink there...but the moment his eyes landed on the cracked mirror, he fell to his knees, hands in his hair.

“OH SH*T!” He shrieked, panicstricken all over. His voice was more pitched than (should be) possible. “What the hell did you do?! Who did this?!?”

Innocently, Mouseboy pointed to you, as if he had any right to be part of the blame game. “It was an accident, though,” he vouched (like that was supposed to make it better!). “I did the same thing when I woke up and saw myself an hour ago; you should have seen it, I broke five of those things! Talk about unlucky!”

He laughed. Han screeched, looking like The Scream. “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

There was going to be a river running through the room by the time he finished sweating, pacing all over the place while nearly showering the floor and furniture with strands of blue hair. Mouseboy scratched his speckled-cheek, shifting to rest on the calves of his brown-clad work pants (He’d obviously been some kind of farm or errand boy before all this). “S-Sorry about that...it was an accident, really…” He bowed his head. “I-I can maybe get my boss to cover any property damage, but man, I’ll be working forever to pay it off…”

He sighed. You almost (almost) felt bad for him. But it was gonna take a lot more than just looking cute and pitiful to sway your emotions.

When at last he’d finished his...episode...Han stood from where he’d kneeled in prayer on the pinewood floor, swiping a hand over his face, shaking it off, and placing determined hands on his hips. “Okay,” he declared. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to convince Jeongin to pull an all-nighter and fix everything. Good thing he knows a thing or two about craftsmanship!”

Jeongin? …

You faltered, repeating the name curiously as you hopped off the dresser, now that the vermin crisis was over. Thankfully, your absent-mindedness didn’t cost you any cuts or bruises, seeing as there very well could have been shards of broken glass on the floor…

Han smiled your way, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right. We have a lot of introductions to get out of the way, so if you’re ready...well, you might want to get dressed first.”

Even more curiously, you looked down to examine yourself.

An eggshell, lace nightgown greeted your eyes.

… … …

Who changed you...?!?!

| Six ❧

“Right, so,” said Han, pointing to each stranger in a misfit-lineup. “This is Seungmin, Jeongin, and...Felix, right? ...Yeah, okay, Felix.” He smiled, gesturing to you next. “Family, this is Y/n.”

Everyone either waved or bid you their own form of greeting, some shy, others more open. Now dressed in a sea-green gown with white-lace trim and possibly the most gaudy over exaggerated bow in the back (smaller, matching ones on your shoes and hair), you did your best to curtsey, though it was awkward and embellished to say the least, and really you’d just used it as an excuse to hike up your quarter-calf socks that refused to stay put. “Yeah, alright...nice to--”

“And this...is Hyunjin.”

The air got a little colder all of a sudden; both metaphorically and otherwise. You glanced up from rebuckling the annoying Mary Jane’s on your feet. Froze.

A tall, slender man stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall beneath the cloak of shadow in the hallway. Now, stepping forward in the light of a grand, deserted chapel, his dark hair combed back by rough fingers pressed for time, he was…he was…

He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky. His eyes were so round and...big. Practically moons themselves.

“......” Han cleared his throat, voicing everyone else’s discomfort. “Yes, well...okay, then. This is great! See?!” He motioned to you as if you were some kind of showcase prize. “I brought her back, just like you asked! Now there’s no need to do anything rash or bloodthirsty! Hahah…hah…! …”

Everyone was strangely silent. Looking at each face in turn, though many were staring at you, none could look you in the eye; and no one dared to so much as peek in this Hyunjin fellow’s direction. In fact, the red-headed boy, Jeongin, seemed...almost...rather afraid.

“Hang on,” you interjected (though there was nothing but silence for sometime now). The gears in your mind cranked back to the letter folded messily on the nightstand: Lives are at stake. I need you to meet someone. “So you’re saying you brought me here because...your friend wanted me here?” You huffed. “I don’t understand. You said that lives were at stake. Who’s dying?”

Quiet. A somber aura fell over the small gathering; maybe that had been a little brash of you to ask outright…

But you needed answers! Why were you here? What was going on? “...Han,” you said, and instantly the boy looked up at you. “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on? …” You scanned the other four faces of boys around you. “What did you mean when you said...I was…” You shook your head. Doubts were flooding in like a dam had just snapped. “This better not be a set up.”

...More quiet. Han cleared his throat once more, stepping back in line. He had no answers to give; his features only hardened. The other three boys in line were looking anywhere else-- the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Oh, look at that beautiful glass window up there. And look at that one!

Hyunjin just kept on staring at you as if staring right through you; like he couldn’t comprehend your existence. He was completely locked in a trance.

After you’d carefully righted yourself, and had just begun turning away to get the heck out of Dodge, it was Seungmin that spoke next. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he called, scratching his head. You turned around. “It’s been a while since any of us have seen another human being before, nonetheless one that isn’t cursed--”

Han flinched, just out of the corner of your eye. Twitch. “...Oh, you mean…”

Your eyes locked with Hyunjin’s, still stuck in outer space. Seungmin nodded. “Yeah...and as for him--” He flicked his eyes on Han. “He’s just stupid.”

“Hey!” The man protested. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes.

“Well it’s true! I bet you failed to explain anything that’s going on to this poor girl. Just look at what you made her wear!” He gestured rather violently to your ridiculously (somewhat childish) outfit. “She looks like she stepped out of a dollhouse. The cheap, tacky kind they used to sell down the street at Aunt Marie’s.”

“Um, actually…” You scowled. “I dressed myself. There wasn’t much to go off of in the closet other than old-era gowns and...well, that was basically it. Speaking of which, though…”

You stomped forward. Everyone (minus Trancy) jumped.

“Which one of you changed me before?! I don’t recall wearing or even owning some fancy nightgown before getting the lights shot out of me.”

Seungmin’s jaw slacked. “You drugged her too?!”

“Only because she was trying to escape!” Han griped. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her! Besides, it wasn’t like I used anything heavy…”

“Still,” Red-headed Jeongin said, siding with his buddy. “What would Hyunjin say if he weren’t lost in his thoughts again? And did you even consider Y/n?”

Han scoffed. “I brought her back, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.”

“Regardless,” Seungmin spoke, “You still basically brought her here against her will. That’s kidnapping. I’m pretty sure the curse isn’t going to--”

“Hello?!” you yelled, waving your arms. “I asked you all which one of you changed--! …”

Your eyes landed on Felix. The boy blinked, innocently processing, then bloomed another shade of rosy pink. “O-Oh, no…!” He waved his hands. “It wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been stuck as a mouse since last Tuesday! A-Also, you were already...I-I mean, I suppose if it wasn’t you, someone else had already…”

His voice trailed off; too modest, and he had a solid alibi. It couldn’t be him. In the background, Han and Seungmin were still arguing, with Jeongin occasionally chiming in to support Seungmin’s case.

“Let me guess,” Seungmin mused, arms crossed. “You probably stole them from Lady Verena down the road.”

Han made an urk! sound. Seungmin sighed.

“I knew it...no wonder she’s dressed so gaudy…” He and Jeongin turned to you with kind eyes. “Listen, Y/n. We’re really sorry about all this. If you need anything, from now on come to me or Jeongin. We’ll be sure to take care of you. Heck,” he grumbled, “even the new guy Felix could have done a better job…”

Felix smiled awkwardly. You and Han both fumed; for different reasons. “That’s not what I--!”

A low growl cut through the lowly-chaotic atmosphere. Everyone ceased their bickering.

The assumed head of the palace had awoken.

- ❧ -

He walked circles around you. Circles and circles and circles…

You were starting to get more than a little dizzy.

“Fascinating…” Hyunjin mused. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and you were merely a lifeless figurine on display. While he spun himself into further insanity and far too strong curiosity, Seungmin and Jeongin both sent you sympathetic looks to “hang in there” and “just go with it.”

But you didn’t want to go with it. You wanted to go out-- away-- back home to the caravan, to the wagon that had Rei and Carrots and all your useless junk people gave life to, and you a profit. “I’m sorry,” your voice cut the mostly vacant air, save for the headmaster’s mumbling and strangely heavy breathing. “Am I missing something here? If you like or...don’t like my outfit, just tell me and I can either say “thank you” or change and we can all move on to more important topics, like, say...why I’m here? What’s going on?!”

Hyunjin froze a quarter of the way to facing you from the left, his brown eyes strangely wide (though really, everything about this man was strange). In the back, Seungmin and Jeongin once again made faces attuning to the atmosphere; in this case, nervous frowning.

They were all treating Hyunjin like some sort of ticking time bomb. Han obviously feared and weirdly resented him, it was plain and simple on his face, and even Felix was picking up something about this guy that you couldn’t sense. When he wasn’t distracted by colorful art or the dirt under his nails, he was sending highly strung vibes his way.

...In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you didn’t just walk out. Nothing was stopping you...really. There was a clear path from here to the great big hallway Han had escorted you down, Felix in tow, and from there a million other doors, all leading to someplace that had to be better than here. One of them-- at least five, or ten-- had to lead to some winding hallway that would take you to the great outdoors.

Just when you’d thought to inquire further on that, Hyunjin finally began speaking, and not mumbling. “You appear to be real…but…”

He closed the (little) distance he’d given you in a single stride, and without warning placed both his hands on your shoulders...very...tentatively. Then, he trailed his fingers up to your cheeks.

You latched onto his wrists, on instinct. A synchronized gasping chorus filled the room like a daytime tragedy soundtrack.

But Hyunjin did nothing, if not for widening his eyes yet again to stare into the depth of your face like he was amazed at your reaction. Like it wasn’t normal or something.

“Hyunjin,” spoke Seungmin, “perhaps it would do you well to give the girl-- Miss Y/n-- her space. She is a human, just like the...er...ahem.”

...That was a sour note.

“Actually…”

All eyes were on Han except yours. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his trance to glare skeptically with concern, with Seungmin having to carefully pull him away so you could stop smelling his pungent breath.

“...Ahaha...ahahahahaha…” ...Han wilted. “I sorta...maybe...well, okay, I didn’t do it, but--”

“What did you do?” Hyunjin spoke. All eyes flew to him, then back at Han in anticipation. Like some sort of thriller novel. The daytime tragedy continued. Maybe you were in a tragic play of some sort, and there was a hidden audience just waiting to jump out and announce that you’d officially been pranked.

“………” He took a breath. “TheWitchcursedhertoo…!”

And then he covered his mouth, wincing moments too soon.

The decaying chapel gasped. Hyunjin’s face turned hard, then slowly, bewitchingly, menacing.

“She did what?!”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Y-You’ve been cursed too?” he asked, mournfully, almost with pity. Everyone appeared to display a sadness teetering on the edge between fear and hopelessness.

It was insane how quickly the airspace had shifted; though nothing normal had happened yet, everything had at least been more or less steady. Now, it was as if the room had been thrown off its hinges at the mention of the woman...the Witch. Which you were hoping had been a dream, but seeing as Felix was here, and Han bringing it up...definitely not.

Han whimpered; actually whimpered, like a child being scolded for breaking a vase. “I-It was an accident, honest!” He begged. “She didn’t know she was headed into the Witch’s Biome, and I lost track of her! BY ACCIDENT! When I found her, I swear I did everything I could to protect her, honest! Th-That’s where I met Felix, though I didn’t know he was really human at the time...and I brought them both back here.”

Seungmin made a curious face of urgency, almost seeming to sweat as he crossed diagonally forward to move you back, even going so far as to stand in front of you as a shield while Jeongin took care of Felix, tugging the mouse-turned-boy’s twine-sewn sleeve to take shelter behind some discarded pews.

What happened next wasn’t a dream, but surely a thing of nightmares. Right in league with the Witch’s hideout.

There was a swirling mass of black and deep red as something foreign and sinister took hold of the feared so-called Master of the House. Hyunjin began to grow bigger. Sharp, pointed fangs protruded from tight chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes told of hunger, bloodshot. Pitched daggers made of shadow and bone formed and crystalized along his fingertips.

You lost your voice. You could barely breathe. You weren’t even sure how you were able to stand.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin warned, a sternness to his voice. “Think about what you’re doing. Y/n is here.”

Hyunjin growled, no longer a man anymore but some sort of...foul, hideous beast. He bore murderous eyes at Han. “I don’t care,” he growled, “I’m going to—!”

“You’re scaring her.”

… … …

That seemed to get his attention. Though the same couldn’t be said about yours; for though you stood still, frozen in time and space, your wandering mind was making a break for recalling the nearest exit. An empty, dizzying numbness choked your thoughts.

Hyunjin...if he could even be called that anymore...glared at you with wide, mournful eyes. Eyes full of fear and insecurity. Doubt. A horrible realization.

In the blink of an eye-- for you literally just had to blink-- he was back to normal. He stood apprehensively still, the rage and miasma gone, staring a hole into your Mary Janes. Perhaps staring at the reflection back at him.

Though he stood impossibly still, his voice gave him away in slight, wavering cracks. “...Forget what you just saw. It was merely an illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Uuuuh,” Felix interrupted. “P-Pretty sure that wasn’t-- mmph!”

Jeongin gave him a silencing, terrified eye. “Shhh!”

“......” With a passive grunt, Hyunjin continued. This time his eyes were directly on you; a wave of nervous energy pooled over your skin. “Dinner is at six p.m. sharp.” he said. “You will be there. ...We will have an encore of introductions, no...an entire reestablishment.” He turned his head viciously over his shoulder. The boy his eyes landed on squeaked.

“Han,” he uttered. The said boy bit his lip.

“Y-Yes…?”

Hyunjin deadpanned, in the most unamused, lifeless way. “Come.”

“Ahahahah, a-actually-- whAAA!”

A vase at the far end of the room shattered. Literally exploded, a few shards lodging themselves into innocently bystanding portraits and landscapes. When your attention strayed back, you could see Hyunjin had thrown something.

Han quickly bowed, visibly starting to sweat all over again. After a tense moment he stood, saying in the softest voice, barely a whisper, his agreement.

Then, wringing the rings on his fingers, he nervously followed him out.

| Seven ❧

Dinner was set to be at six p.m. Attendance was apparently a requirement, given the formal invite Felix slipped beneath your door, turned back to a mouse once more (something about moonlight turning him into a...weremouse? ...The rules of his curse were rather complicated).

However, that didn’t mean that you had to be there.

“...And so that’s how I became a real boy again!” The mouse cheered, setting off a small party steamer Jeongin had granted him to lift his spirits. His tiny rodent eyes crinkled in delight as he beamed up at you from the dining table of your guest room, where the two of you were currently seated. You twitched your nose in timing with his, having stared at him and his life-story-since-last-Tuesday for far too long.

You shifted your weight to the other cheek. “So, really, all you had to do was make contact with sunlight. But you were too scared and kept to the shadows all this time.”

“Precisely! At least, I think that’s how it works!” He plopped down, digging some...cheese crumbs out of his coat. “That, and the old hasbeen wouldn’t let me leave every time I tried. Do you know when the last time I saw the sun was?! Go on, guess!”

“...Last Tuesday?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes, paws shoved up his piehole. He took a few minutes to chew and swallow. “...Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re the chosen one to break everyone’s curse!”

You huffed, snorted really, leaning back to cross your arms in thought. A movie reel spun its way around your brain, projecting the late afternoon’s events on a white screen:

…Hyunjin’s retreating figure left some sort of impression in your mind, and Han seemed to vanish like ink washed off of a page. The moment they’d both gone, your knees buckled beneath you, hands hitting the cold pavement. Seungmin was down to your level in an instant, with Jeongin and Felix scurrying around pews, bits of rubble and broken glass.

“Y/n, are you alright? …” Seungmin asked, reaching out to you. He paused briefly to think. “...I’m going to check your pulse,” he announced.

As his fingers found their way around your wrist, Jeongin flanked to your other side with a first aid kit he’d salvaged from who-knew-where. Felix kept his distance, wringing his cap the way Han had wrung the rings on his fingers, but one look at his face told you he was just as concerned for your health as the others…he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Here, put this on her!”

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, pushing away an ice pack with sloth. Jeongin gave you a distasteful glare of sorts.

“But you nearly fainted--!”

“I’m fine...really.”

“......”

Everyone laid off after that.

Which you took as your cue to exit. In your retreating haste, albeit, you failed to see the sorrowful eyes that followed your fleeting back; but you could feel them, and it wouldn’t be long until they found a voice to stand upon.

“Come on, Felix,” you said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home. I don’t know where you originally came from, but if it’s anywhere near Westwind, my friend and I can give you a lift.” ...It was the least you could do, after all. Felix hadn’t done anything wrong; he wasn’t the one that kidnapped you, or put a “curse” on you, which you weren’t even sure was real, by the way. Sure, some crazy stuff happened, but you didn’t feel any different. What if Han and the Witch and that Hyunjin guy were really all in kahoots, and this was just some kind of crazy...outrageous propaganda stunt?

Jeongin continued to stare, now in an incredulous manner. “Y/n…”

“Let her go,” Seungmin insisted, lowering Jeongin’s hand. The boy grasped the air weakly, the pulsing of his fingers mocking his faintly beating heart, breaths shallow and longing, feebly succumbing to trembles. It would have been painful to watch, had you known him better.

Felix, keeping a low profile as best he could in such tense situation, removed the beret he’d just finished placing back on his head, squeezing it before him. “...A-Alright,” he agreed after a moment. He paced over gradually at first, then broke into a nervous, jagged jog as he scuttled to your side. “Thanks…”

You smiled to hide the fear and insanity of what you’d just witnessed before. A man turning into a beast— a boy becoming like a shadow— everything that had happened up until now; it was just a dream, Y/n. A bad propaganda stunt. “Don’t mention it.” You turned over your shoulder. “...It was nice meeting you.”

Seungmin smiled, bitterly so, as Jeongin closed in on himself. “Same to you. Please, take care. I apologize for any trouble we caused you.”

With a nod, your footsteps echoed into the once-lavish corridor, Felix trailing nervously behind you. But then…

Those sorrowful eyes found their voice. “Wait, Y/n! Please, don’t go yet!” Someone was running after you. “Please stay, just for dinner at least! Please!!!”

...Your footsteps faded. Waiting.

“Please, Y/n…” Jeongin paused some ten feet away, falling to his knees to beg. “Cursed or not, only you can break the spell. I know how this must look to an outsider like yourself, but what Han said to you before in his letter...I’m sorry but I pried before he left it. He’s right. You’re one of us now. But you’re also you. And only you can save him. We…” His voice trailed off, eyes following, focusing on something in his hands...a locket of some sort? “...We gave up on ourselves a long time ago. But as weird and annoying and frustrating as he is, we made a promise to never, ever give up on Hyunjin. Like it or not he’s our boss, and our dearest friend. He’s been good to us for so many years...after all he’s done, we at least need to save him!” His eyes searched for yours, gripping his hands tightly, pleading, crying out with anguish and hope. “It might be too late, but we have to try! We can’t do anything like this...only you can save him. Please, Y/n…”

You’d been paying attention this whole time, but it was just now that you were starting to see: something dark and lively wrapping its way around Jeongin’s neck, then his right cheek. It was like a tattoo, only...alive. And moving. Black vines with thorns and heart-shaped leaves mapped their way across half the boy’s face, finally tangling into his bright, unnaturally red hair that sploched into ebony black, the color of Rei’s hair, only darker maybe, and then…

He began to fade. “...Please help him. He’s not as bad as he seems, honest! Please say you’ll stay and save him!”

...After that, Seungmin ran over and gave Jeongin some kind of shot that turned him back to normal and stopped him from disappearing, but…

What were you supposed to do when he started crying like that?! You weren’t expecting the waterworks…

Because you were both nice people, you and Felix hurried back to help, too, though all the two of you could really do was run circles around each other and agree to stay for just a bit longer. Just until dinner, you’d repeated. So we have the strength to travel.

...You would go to dinner. Really, the plan had been to just send Felix down. That wouldn’t do, though, now that you thought about it... Well, then, you certainly weren’t staying; you’d simply pop in to make sure that Jeongin kid was still alive, grab a roll or two, and then you’d be off to the nearest motel or campsite, because you certainly weren’t spending a night here. Come morning, you and hopefully Felix could hurry back to Westwind and after you took the boy home, or someplace close, you could get back to a normal life traveling and selling wares and running away from fate and customs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Hyunjin I’m supposed to fix,” you mumbled, getting back to the small conversation. You never thought in a hundred years you’d be sitting down in some old castle out in the middle of nowhere, talking to a rat (that was really a person, but still). Your eyes scanned the window beside you, out into the foggy gray beyond where nothing but trees and old abandoned buildings greeted you, lifeless along the horizon.

Mouse Felix was still stuffing his face with crumbs of cheddar and swiss. He seemed to have found some bread crust to pair with the former ensemble. “I mean, I guess. I think I heard that one guy, Seungmin, mention something about it being for everyone though? Or I could have just been hearing things…” He swallowed, stacking another small tower. “Wow, I’ve never had such an appetite until last Tuesday…”

“......” You rolled your eyes, counterproductive to your set jaw. How the heck were you supposed to save anyone? Why you, of all people?

That annoying chant the Witch had said replayed in your mind...maybe, if you could decipher it, you’d have some answers...how did it go, exactly…?

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy

Sunrise. So when the sunrise came...but, lost? What was lost?

A cross? You surveyed the area, but you didn’t see anything like that.

What you seek...was this you, or was you someone else? What was it you, or they, were looking for? You just wanted to go home…

...All you got from the last part was that this witch was crazy. Then, the rest went something like… But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

Okay, seriously, what were you bending?! This had to be metaphorical. So bend...what, your will? Heart? Find a loophole somewhere?

Were you finding what was lost? Would you find it if you found a loophole? Or had a change of heart?

Fortunes would smile upon you...something good would come.

For the rest of your days…

…You smacked your head against the table, startling poor Felix. Who were you kidding?! You’d already decided, that old hermit in the woods was crazy. Trying to translate some old ramblings was a waste of time…!

...And effective in giving you a headache. You groaned, massaging your temples as Felix detangled himself from your locks to scamper a safe distance away.

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“...Yeah. Fine.”

“...You don’t sound fine. You sound like Chan when he’s had a long night working on a new project and drank more coffee than he got work done. And I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

You turned your head. “Who’s that?”

Felix smiled. The only mouse that knew how to. “My boss, sort of. We both work for an entertainment company, at least...I did, before this happened.” He regarded himself sadly. “Ever since last Tuesday--”

You groaned again. “Urgh, I know, I get it already! Last Tuesday may as well be your catchphrase at this point.”

“...Sorry.”

“......” You peeked back at him, flicking a crumb of cheese his way. It seemed to take away all his problems like a one-way train. You sat up, grinning just a little at how cute he looked, nimbling innocently. The only rodent you’d ever find to be cute. “...Tell me more about it. About Chan, was it? And this entertainment company of yours. I honestly thought you were a farmer.”

“A farmer?” He thought. “Oh...yeah, my clothes! I grew up on a farm, and our company is relatively small. I just threw those on when I went exploring the woods.”

“And what were you doing exploring the forest on your own?”

“Uh...well,” he blushed. “I’ll tell you about Chan and the company first.”

His small, yet surprisingly bass voice carried on into the dimly-lit atmosphere. Maybe you just needed to take your mind off things. You were getting too wound up in something you weren’t even committed to being a part of. Once you saw Jeongin was okay, you’d be forgetting all about this place. So for now, you just needed to relax.

And who knew mice told such fabulous, intricate stories?

| Eight ❧

“Hyunjin, please…!”

Crash!

Another mirror. Terrific.

After their departure from the old art gala, Hyunjin had led the two to one of the many old studies that lied grungy and muted like the rest of the palace. In the circular room resided one dusty old curtain over a weathering window, a few bookshelves chalked with books likely to never be read again, a small table with various junk, a chair, another chair, a small loveseat, a slightly larger small grandfather clock...and a calendar with much angry scribbling, stains, and tears.

“Hyunjin, Jeongin can only fix so many mirrors at once...you know how this all works…you break a mirror, something in the castle vanishes. Then I take the heat for it!”

The beast growled. “You don’t think I know that? Are you talking back to me right now?”

Han flinched. If he were human, surely he would have died from a thousand ulcers and the tight sensations of horrid anxiety by now… “N-Not by any means...Hyunjin,” With gritted teeth, he bowed his head. “Please, listen to me for a second. Let me explain.”

“Oh, that you will,” the beast grumbled. He gracefully spun himself into a red velvet chair, lifting another looking glass from the small table beside it in order to glare at himself broodingly. It made the small hairs of Han’s neck stand yielding, doing a little dance of anxiety.

“V-Very well,” He said, standing back up straight. He gave an awkward glance at the broken mirror shards before deciding he’d better start talking his way out of another beating, and clean up later. “Our journey begins in the outskirts of Westwind city--”

Hyunjin raised his right arm, the mirror held precariously in the balance. “Too far.”

“NO DON’T!”

...Phew.

Removing the handheld treasure from the prince’s hand, his shadow took a few steps back, peering into it. Watching the door and bookshelf behind him, as shadows had no reflection. “...I traveled around...out yonder, just as you asked. Just like I said I would. I let the wind and my intuition, my hope, guide me, and within less than a day’s travel I came upon Westwind city. That’s where I found her, just outside the gates...she was accompanied by another, a young woman of close age. They looked too different to be related, so I assume it was a friend, or maybe a distant...distant relative. Anyway--”

Hyunjin sighed.

“...Anyway, I--”

“How did you know she was the one? And so close? So close to our village...it seems too good to be true. And I thought you said she was lying dormant somewhere.”

Han blinked, eyes flitting forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It took all his willpower not to flinch or show anymore signs of weakness. “W-Well, yes, she was, but uh...she escaped?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And so, I put her to the test.”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You put her to the test? What does that mean?”

“I quizzed her. I knocked on the door of her heart...and she ignored me quite a few times, but eventually, I got in. In exchange for a favor.”

“What favor?”

Han smiled with pride. “I’d saved her friend’s life. Or...distant, distant relative. After that, I asked her carefully, very seriously, of her thoughts.”

“...About…?”

“The curse.”

“You told her outright about the curse?!”

Seeing as Hyunjin was near fuming, Han turned on the sprinklers, fanning his arms about. “No, no! Not outright! I was very tricky! I used lots of metaphors and figuratively-speakings! She had no idea to the core of the matter, really!” ...And anyway, did it even matter anymore? Y/n was well aware by now she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore...

“......” Hyunjin relaxed back in his chair. “So, what did she say?”

Han searched the dusty floorboards for a minute, before slowly twisting the mirror 180 degrees. “Well, sir, it was what I said first. I asked her…”

- ❧ -

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

- ❧ -

Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide as saucers.

This time, he knew it, too. But he didn’t care how he must have looked. That fear died a long time ago, having stared at the many faces of Hwang Hyunjin over the years.

He simply couldn’t believe it. It really was true, then. It had to be her. The girl that would solve all his problems…!

...For the record, one should never put all their faith into one person in regards of “solving problems” or “fixing them,” but this was different. In this case, this girl really was the answer to lifting the curse plaguing his home and body for so many moons, so many long, hard-watched seasons…

And she was going to be having dinner with him. Not only that, but he only had a handful of hours left until it was all over, and everything set into stone.

The door behind Han slammed open, Seungmin entering the stage and stealing his spotlight like he normally did. Even before the curse, the boy who’d been his father’s auditor-in-training was always bursting in to bask in the limelight with his savvy knowledge, goody-two-shoes this and boring document question that.

He swears this was never the case, but Hyunjin knew better. “Do you mind? I’m having a discussion with--”

“Not now.”

“Excuse me?” Seungmin was rummaging around the room, spreading knick-knacks around, tossing books off shelves after quickly examining covers or flipping through a few pages, even going so far as to demand that Hyunjin stand so he could upturn all the seat cushions. “What are you doing?”

The boy genius frowned. “Jeongin had an episode after Y/n almost left. He—”

Hyunjin found himself shaking the boy in the next second. “Did he stop her?!”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright first?”

Hyunjin just continued to stare. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I was going to say, he managed to stop her. I did say almost left. By the way, Jeongin’s in peril right now, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I’d like to get back to ensuring his safety as soon as possible.”

As soon as Hyun dropped him, the boy got right back to work; tearing the room apart. Han pursed his lips.

“He had an episode? Did you give him a shot?”

The boy sighed. “Yes, but I’ve told you both before they’re only temporary. I’m looking for lavender oil, and the vine clippers. I don’t remember the original recipe to stop the ebb and flow, but I think I can make a close replacement from what I’ve read in the past.” He glanced over his shoulder a moment. “What were you getting so hot under the collar about, anyway? Is this about Y/n? Being cursed?”

Shoot, by the day, that was right. He was still angry about that. What if Han had blown it? What if this Y/n was defective now because she’d been touched by the Witch’s mad hand?

Oh, he was so going to get it if…!

“Eeek!” Han shrieked, already knowing what was to come. “Dammit, don’t remind him of that! I had just managed to get on his good side!”

Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “You’re never on his good side. All you two do is bicker and fight and run from or after each other until you’ve become one with the walls and he passes out from anger or resentment or both. ...Ah!” He smiled. “Found the clippers. Now for that oil…”

“Forget the oil!” Hyunjin roared. “We don’t have time for this! Ahh…!” He gritted both hands in his hair, looking out the window, up at the old miniature grandfather clock. “Time’s running out. Since she’s the one, we may still have a chance. Cursed or not we only have three days...two days…!”

It was at this point that Seungmin made a quizzical expression, pausing in his endeavors to pace rather calmly over to the calendar, checking the date. “...The anniversary of your curseday isn’t until next month. You have a whole season, almost.”

A...season?

“Let me see that,” Hyunjin demanded, shoving the kid aside. He peered anxiously at the line up, the rows of weeks in the calendar month that said… … …

Seungmin was right. He’d misread the date, in all his anxious spite.

He had until the next season. Until the first snowfall. Starting tomorrow, his clock would begin.

...Oh, who was he kidding?! His clock started tonight; with dinner.

In a tizzy, his whole attitude changed. No longer was he a grumpy, repulsive, bitter soul trapped in a cursed body. Mindlessly resenting his father, his past actions, the old beggar who’d shown up on his doorstep. He was a nervous young man about to have his first date in what felt like forever, because truthfully, it had been. “What am I going to wear?! ...Oh my gosh, she saw me transform…!” Horror filled his lungs with a ragged breath, hands flying to sunken cheeks. “I can’t let her see me now! But I have to! I have to break the curse...I mean, she has to break the curse! But what if--!”

“Hyunjin!” Han clamped his mouth shut. A bold move for someone that was normally terrified of him. “Calm down! I think that’s step one!” He looked around while Seungmin continued his search. “Step two would be...uh…”

“Finding an appropriate outfit?” Seungmin offered. Han beamed.

“YES, finding an appropriate outfit! Genius!”

Again, the boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who would have thought…?”

“C’mon!” The two flew past him, Hyunjin too preoccupied with his previous behavior, overwhelmed by too many truths, to even-- …

He rushed back into the room. “Did you say Jeongin was--?!”

“Let’s go,” Han ordered, yanking the househead by the collar. Leaving Seungmin alone to his bumbling foragery.

My, how times quickly changed.

| Nine ❧

Another spaghetti noodle found its way into Felix’s hair, alongside a half-eaten slice of garlic bread.

In the great dining hall, chandeliers hung like clouds in a desecrated chamber, all covered in dust and cobwebs. A long, very long table stretched from one end of the wide room to the other, all set with dining ware meant to feed the entire Royal Family and their second cousins. A rainbow of food covered the crimson-draped platform, starting with English scones and biscuits on one end and ending with an Italian pot of gold on the other, complete with pastas, pizza, and a basket of garlic bread nestled to Felix’s right, who was seated at the table’s end. All along the walls sat candles lit with a hazy tint, casting shadows like lingering ghosts, light dancing across the faces of those present.

You slid your hand down one side of your face, safely hidden amongst the confines of two large chambers doors with one slightly askew. Good grief. You were simply waiting on Jeongin to show, to ascertain he was alright; until then, it was Felix’s one job to stall. What on earth was that foolish mouseboy doing shoving food in his hair?!

Seungmin, seated to the absent head’s left, and the only other soul in the room, cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the cultural expansion of what was meant to be one supper. “Felix!” he called, “Might I ask why you’re storing food on your persons? You’re...not a mouse at the moment.”

Unfortunately it didn’t reach far enough, as Felix continued to store and gobble down food. “Mm… What’d you say, cuz?”

Seungmin frowned. “I said,” he repeated, raising his voice, “you’re not a mouse anymore!”

Felix blinked, pausing red-handed while sliding a breadstick into his shirt pocket. “...Aren’t I?” He examined himself. “...Oh.” He blushed. “I suppose you did give me one of those fancy needles, didn’t you? I’m not used to being a real boy at this hour.”

Seungmin sunk back into his seat; a sigh.

Oh, but for Pete’s sake, where was Jeongin?! Seungmin could at least mention his current condition, so you could skedaddle your way to the nearest exit with a salad to-go. Better yet, some pasta and a pound of those chicken tenders sounded all the better…

No, no Y/n! Now was not the time to be thinking about food...even if it’d been a while since you last ate...more like a day…

...Ooooooh...pizza and...shrimp cocktail…

A pile of desserts rested center stage. Was that German chocolate you were seeing...?

“So,” Seungmin called. “Will Y/n be joining us this evening?”

Your attention snapped back to reality. Felix shook his head alongside tearing into a drumstick. “‘Fraid not,” he replied.

“Mm…” the other boy nodded. “...May I ask why? Is she feeling alright?”

Felix paused again. Forgetting the pasta and German chocolate, you pressed yourself against the closed door in order to be as close as possible, ear resting just next to the shaded chandelier and candlelight.

Just like we practiced, Felix. Come on, just like we rehearsed.

“Uuuh,” Felix stammered. “Th-That’s…”

His head listed aside in thought. Ugh! No, what was he doing?!

Felix chewed much longer than he needed to while racking his mouse-sized brain for an answer. Your fingertips pressed into old polished wood, silently begging the boy to remember what you’d just discussed twenty minutes ago.

Remember...think, dang it!

Suddenly, he swallowed. “Oh!”

Seungmin shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. “Yes?”

Felix grinned, probably with salad or something stuck in his teeth. “Y/n will not be attending this dilatory gathering due to a symptom...of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

Chink...! That was the sound of your hope cracking like a broken mirror. That sounded totally rehearsed! The lie was supposed to be that your curse made you tired and you didn’t want to be disturbed. It was perfect, since you knew one of them would insist on butting in to see for themselves, but surely would respect a young lady’s wishes to be left alone…

Though it was hard to see that far, Seungmin appeared to be grinding gears in his mind to make sense of such a suspiciously wordy sentence when, heaven’s to Betsy, the door at the far side opened, and in came a blue-haired shadow. It was the only way you knew how to describe him; he was simply put, like ink off a rain-washed page… “Wassup?!” He announced, swinging out the right-side chair.

Seungmin deadpanned, appearing to squint just slightly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Ink-boy dropped a handful of rolls onto his plate. “...Like wha— oh!”

He leapt for the door again. Seungmin rolled his eyes (something he seemed to do a lot), dabbing the sides of his mouth before placing the cloth back over his lap. “Yeah. Oh.”

At the far end of the room, Han held both hands raised, as if he were a magician about to reveal a magic trick. “May I present to you, Felix, His Royal Highness, Prince of Everain Palace, Ruler of Finance, Master of Trade, Prosperer of...prospering, President Hwang’s birthright successor of the greatest industry of all time, Hyun— …”

Crickets.

You couldn’t visibly see it, but you knew it was there: a single drop of sweat that rolled down the side of Han Jisung’s face, as he stood frozen, one hand hovering over the engraved door handle.

“Ha...hahaha…” He did his best to smile. “...Wh-Where’s Y/n?”

Felix bobbed his head, holding up a finger while finishing off a bite of lasagna. “Mm...one second mate…” He dabbed the corners of his mouth like Seungmin had done, taking his time to tuck and fold the elaborate cloth upon his lap.

Han twitched. Felix surely smiled, taking a painfully slow inhale.

“Y/n will not be attending this dilabitory...dilatory gathering due to a...symptom?...yeah, a symptom of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

… …

“She whAT?!?!”

You sighed. While Han had another spastic encounter with the dust-coated floor, Seungmin hollered and tried beating the boy out of it with various hard-mattered foods, the two falling into the same bickering as they had before. Felix continued to happily stuff his face like nothing was bothering him. And you, idly residing in the cold hallway, still had no idea how Jeongin was. Not a word.

Sliding your back down the door, you pursed your lips, lightly smacking two fingers over your wrist; better check yourself before you wreck yourself, just in case.

Fifty-eight...fifty-nine...sixty. Yep, normal.

But the marking on your wrist wasn’t.

You jumped back, hitting the door and causing the noise outside to dip for a moment before returning to...what was currently normal. You covered your right wrist with the opposite hand. Held your breath. Counted to three.

Removing your fingers, slowly, something sinister stared back at you. Something...elaborate, foreign, but distinguished. Some sort of...strange dome shape, a mark made of...ink, maybe, resembling a chapel window. Or a door, perhaps?

Upon closer inspection, in the faint light from the other room, it seemed to pulse with...some kind of...energy… …

...When sunrise comes, and all is lost… Hmm…

Fwoosh!

You snapped your head back, peering through the sliver of dancing light. The far door ricocheted against its adjacent wall; an ambrosial aroma wafting through the air. The candlelight...illuminated...

...A beastly man with silky black hair.

- ❧ -

You’re pretty sure you heard a noodle slip off the fork wound tightly in Felix’s hand, who nearly dropped it all the same.

There he was; the man who’d become a monster and nearly murdered Han just hours ago, right before your eyes. The black and red miasma, honed claws, sharp teeth; all of it came flooding back to your mind like a tidal wave.

The sudden drop in temperature made you long for candle warmth, yet flee farther into the shadows of the empty hall. Seungmin paused with a scone held once proudly and threateningly in the air, now placed delicately on his plate as he nervously slid back into his seat. Han, once choking on a fistful of salad mix, managed to wash it down and did the same, quickly and quietly so after pulling out the beastman’s seat.

Hyunjin sat down with vigor, the legs of his chair scraping harshly to the floor. He made a peculiar face, something like embarrassment albeit just a second, before hiding it behind the fluffing of his napkin and folding it onto his lap. Then he made a fleeting...was that nervous?...glance straight head, to the far opposite end of the table.

The candlelight seemed almost hesitant to cast it’s erratic glow upon the prince’s face. When his eyes met a head of orange hair, he froze, glaring. Hotly. “Where is Y/n?”

“The million dollar question,” Seungmin mumbled. It managed to echo, along with the kick beneath the table and following hiss escaping his lips a moment later.

Hyunjin snorted, turning his gaze back to Felix. “I said,” he repeated. “Where is Y/n?”

“Yes, I heard you loud and clear, cuz,” Felix replied with an OK sign. “Gimme just a sec...ahem!”

You (silently) banged your head against the solid matter before you. Oh, sweet stars, please no…

“Y/n will not be attending this—”

“She’s not feeling well, Your Grace,” Seungmin interrupted. Phew. “Apparently she’s rather ill as a side effect from whatever curse the Witch gave her. She’s resting in the same guest room upstairs.”

Yes! Now, someone mention Jeongin’s name so you could leave with a clear conscious!

Hyunjin blinked. “Go get her, then.”

… Huh?

Seungmin nearly swallowed wrong, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin, again, snorted. “I said, go get her. It’s rude to keep everyone waiting, especially royalty.”

Felix, who had long started his meal prior to anyone’s arrival, stopped and hurriedly shoved any evidence under a spare napkin from the empty seat beside him. “Ahaha, yes, right! Waiting…! …”

He awkwardly wiped his hands clean. Seungmin frowned. “Hyunjin…”He placed his fork down. “She’s sick. Resting. And after today, I don’t blame her for wanting to be left alone right now…” He eyeballed Felix a moment, leaning in with a hushed voice. “Remember, you have more time now...it’s better to be patient. Let her adjust first.” He turned back toward his meal. “I got the hint from Felix’s message, she wants to be left alone. Everyone’s already started eating, anywa—”

“That’s enough!”

The room swiftly grew colder. You shivered, ducking your head even if you technically weren’t present in the dining atmosphere. Oh, greif.

Hyunjin slammed his hands on the table, rocking himself upwards. “If you’re just going to back talk and give me excuses, I’ll get her myself!”

He made his way toward you, crossing the dining room on Han’s side in angry strides towards the vaguely slitted door.

Gasping, you bit your lip hard, frantically searching for a place to hide; but there was nothing. No furniture or randomly placed junk littered the path leading to the great hall. Could you outrun him, maybe? Would it make a sound? How good was his hearing? Did beastmen have the same sensitive hearing capabilities as a wolf, or a fox?

“Pardon me!”

You whirled around, witnessing the brave, possibly last, antics of Felix the Mouse...boy. His whole aura radiated positive, jittering energy, hopping lightly from one foot to the next as he put his old entertainment skills to use, all for your sake.

Hyunjin grunted, having been stopped in his tracks. He glared down heatedly. “What is it? You’re in my way.”

Felix saluted him. “Right on, bro! ...Except, that…”

You held your breath. Put on a good show, Felix. Or, better yet, ask him about Jeongin. That’s all I need to—

“...I need to pee. Mind showing me where the bathroom is?”

… …

Oh…he just had to...go…

You deflated like a popped balloon. Of course.

After staring almost incredulously at Felix, like trying to understand his existence, Hyunjin made some sort of irritated noise you assumed all beastmen made, shoved him aside, and continued his striding.

You made it as far as a few paces from the first available turn before a cold voice stopped you.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Urk! …

...You really should have just looked for Jeongin yourself.

| Ten ❧

“Where’s Jeongin?”

The room had long ago settled into an uncomfortable silence. Bitterly, you shoved a stuffed olive into your mouth, letting the salty tang of the brined fruit coax over your tongue before shivering from the sensation.

You were getting drowsy. But that also could have been from the wine Han insisted on pouring for you, and you being stressed and unsure if an evening around a beastman would be at all possible without the effects of alcohol, accepted.

You were seated across from the beast now, in Felix’s place. The boy being forced to your right...until the effects of whatever had made him a boy again wore off. As of ten minutes ago, he was a rodent yet again, nested happily in the garlic bread basket. You squinted eyes at him over your wine glass.

You totally failed the mission. Be grateful I’m having a hard time staying mad at you. And that you can safely ingest garlic.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Hyunjin’s voice boomed across the grand hall, in no more than a calm rejoinder. How he could speak so lowly and yet fill an entire hall was beyond your drunkenly buzzing comprehension.

“I just want to know,” you simply replied. “Where is he?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. Instead, Seungmin cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room.

“Wait,” You stood. “Where are you going?”

The boy awkwardly shifted his gaze from you to the door. Hyunjin suddenly stood as well. “Why do you want to know? Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Okay, okay,” Han dabbed at his face, easing the beast back into his seat, and motioning for you to do the same. “Everyone take it easy. Y/n, please excuse Seungmin, he has many responsibilities here. Hyunjin...Your Princeliness,” he corrected, “why don’t you have some more wine? I think we all just need to have a nice long drink and—”

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin ordered, scooting himself in. His shadow didn’t need to be told twice, turning back to his dinner with a small eye roll.

Steadily, with caution, you lowered yourself back into your seat, only able to watch as Seungmin gave a brief bow to you before disappearing behind closed doors. “Please excuse me,” his voice trailed behind him.

Great. He was likely the only one who’d have been bold and honest enough to tell you anything. Now you were stuck with a beast, a shadow, and a mouse that’d fallen asleep in the bread basket.

...Then this happened.

“Ahem,” Hyunjin swallowed a swish of sweet, fermented grape juice. “...T-Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said…” He swallowed again, for no particular reason this time. He kept a staring contest with his steak. “Tell me about yourself. What kind of...stuff do you like?”

“What kind of...stuff?”

A stifled noise came from Han’s lips, as he did his best to hide a smile. He spared you a polite grin before quickly whispering something to Hyunjin, like a lawyer to a client. “...Never mind!” The beastman awkwardly bleated, to which crimson coated his cheeks. He angrily picked at his plate, and the room once again fell into silence.

That was weird. Switching gears, you glanced down to your wrist. The mark from a bit earlier was still there, now lit up beneath the flickering light. Tentatively, you slipped a spare napkin, rubbing at the ink.

It didn’t budge. You tried wetting the cloth with a bit of wine when the others weren’t looking; thankfully, Hyunjin was too...enthralled in his steak, or something, and Han was too busy whispering to him.

The ink didn’t smudge, either. It was as if the markings were a part of your skin.

When sunrise comes, and all is lost…

“What do you do for fun?”

“Wha?!” Your head shot up, focusing to see all four eyes on you. Han and Hyunjin glaring at you expectantly. You gulped, taking a deep breath to clear your thoughts. You just couldn’t get that old bat’s wacky slogan out of your head… “...What do I do for fun? Is that what you asked?”

Han gave a single nod, encouraging another conversation attempt. You lowered your head, thinking. It couldn’t hurt to participate in mindless chatter. Just until I get the information I want.

“I like...selling things. And making people happy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grew just a little. “Is...that what you do for a living?”

“Mm-hm.”

Both men were silent. Hyunjin, in particular, looked like he may have been experiencing indigestion of some sort. Then he scowled. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents? Taking care of them? Doing something more decent?”

You scoffed. What the heck? Where did that come from? “This is how I take care of them. Almost all the proceeds go back to them. What do you mean, more decent?”

Hyunjin had opened his mouth to speak when Han cleared his throat, jumping in on the conversation. “Does your friend work with you? Her name was…”

“Rei.”

“Yes, Rei! You both sell artifacts and collectibles, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Oh…” He relaxed, indigestion cleared.

Placing both hands on your lap, you sat up a little straighter. “So where’s Jeongin?”

The beastman’s face resembled one of annoyance and grief. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I…” You took another swing of wine, swirling the contents afterward. Watching as your reflection altered. “I’m just curious is all. Is he doing okay?”

Something like...jealousy?...resided among the beast’s brow and set jaw. “He’s fine. Quit asking. I want you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you?”

It was at this point that you’d at last had perhaps one too many swigs of sweet relief and numbness, for you placed down your glass after chugging the last bit. One out of...how many refills of this stuff have you had? “Can’t,” you stated, standing. “I got what I came here for. Now I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Hyunjin...the beast, regarded you incredulously. “Yes, leaving…” You giggled. “Leaving. Leeeeeaving… Like leaves blowing in the wind, leaf-ing.” It was a hop, skip, and a jump to the door some ten or whatever paces away. “I know that Jeongin is okay now...er, wait.” You frowned. Turned around. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

A brow was raised. “You think I’m lying? About my Jeongin?” He snorted. “Why do you care so much about him? Do you know him from a past life? Was he your lover? Do you like him now?”

“Hyunjin…” Han muttered, glaring. “Cool it...please.”

“I will not!” He rose to his feet with twice as much vigor as before, chair flying backward. Han eep-ed. “This dinner is supposed to be about you, and me. Why do you keep bringing up my blacksmith? Tell me!”

Because you were already pretty numb (good gravy what was in the wine?), you just laughed at the fact a beast was getting this angry over something so trivial to you. “Why do you care so much? Do beasts always get this angry?” You groaned, like it was all such a bother. “If you really wanna know, he had a nervous breakdown or something and begged me to come to dinner. But he got all weird...like...there were these moving images, and he started vanishing. I could see right through him!” You sighed, making your exit again. “I just wanted to know if he was alright. Turning into air like that can’t be healthy.”

“Absolutely not.”

You chuckled, nearly at the door. “Exactly, that’s what I’m say—”

“NO!”

Boom! Chik!

...You flinched. Gradually, bit by bit, you inched yourself to partially facing the dining hall.

A chunk of the table was missing. A decently-sized, pretty big chunk, torn right off the left corner. Han, on the opposite side but right next to the disaster, was twisted up like one of the noodles that’d been trapped in Felix’s hair, his face ghostly white.

Hyunjin was seething. “You are not going anywhere outside the confinements of these walls. That is an order.”

Han coughed, waving away dust and floating wood chips with minimal effort so as not to draw too much attention. “O-Okay, easy there, Hyunjin…technically…” He smiled. An apologetic one, voice skittishly squeaky. “Technically, you can’t order her to—”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!!! This is my manor, my life, my curse!!!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to order me around!” You screamed. “How dare you raise your voice to me! Over something so stupid and absurd!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, head twitching aside. “What did you just say?”

You mirrored his image. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear. Surely, as a beast, your hearing is as good as a dog. Or a bat. Or some kind of vermin.” Pushing open the door, you whipped your head around. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide...then nearly vanished behind a curtain of vexed, enraged brows. “You wanna go so badly? Fine! Get out of here! Go to your room!!!”

“Who do you think you are, my father?!”

“Obviously, running amuck from your parents has left you with a lack of discipline.”

Your jaw went slack. “What did you just say?!?”

Hyunjin smirked, a sarcastically snobbish and mocking tone to his voice. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

“Uh!” You raved. “Whatever! I’m going to look for Jeongin myself, since I can’t trust that you’d tell me anything sincere. Then, I’m out of here.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means I can’t trust anything you say, because you’re a monster!!! Then, I’m going home!”

You couldn’t quite see it, but there was a hint of pain in Hyunjin’s eyes, mixed with scars and years of regret. But everything quickly flooded back to anger and bigotry before you could count to three. “...Get back here! You’re not allowed to leave the manor! I forbid you to go anywhere except straight to your room! Do you hear me?!”

“No!”

“Yes!!”

“No!!”

“FINE!!!”

“Fine!!!”

…Slam.

| Eleven ❧

The rain coming down that night was the only thing stopping you from leaving. Not that you were afraid of a little rain by any means; no, not in the slightest. Rather, it was that you weren’t going to kill yourself over a stupid argument just to get away from a beast. You couldn’t risk catching pneumonia or a silly cold and leave Rei to handle taking care of you and the fort. Plus, there was the matter of Felix...you’d be responsible for him as well. You already told him you would.

...All of that, and it was raining pretty hard.

So here you sat, out in an old web-infested barn, slack atop a stack of hay a few feet away from the open barn doors, just watching the rain fall. Praying it would let up so you could escape. Praying no one would find you here, out in some shabby old building behind the kitchen. And what a nightmare that had been, by the way.

From your left shoulder, Felix did a nervous little jig, spinning in circles twice before bridging across your back to the other side. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened, cause that cheese and wine got me pretty good, but…” He heaved a small mouse-sigh. “...Do you think you maybe overreacted? You don’t seem like a person who gets worked up so easily.”

You scoffed. Wasn’t that right. “Yeah...you’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what happened?”

“......” It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. What did happen? Why did I get so worked up like that? Sure, there was the alcohol. That definitely had an effect. But it wasn’t everything, because now that it was wearing down, now that your mind was clearing and you’d had some time to settle down, to breathe in solitude, you...knew it was something more. There was truth in the midst of all that anger.

Felix was waiting for an answer. So were you.

“I—”

Chunk! “Y/n!!!”

You took a startled breath, turning toward an old door you could have sworn was sealed shut. “Jeongin…?”

It was Jeongin. The red-haired reason you’d decided to stick things out, albeit a little longer. The boy greeted you with flushed cheeks and a lazy smile; he still didn’t look all that well. “Y-Yeah...I came because I heard...you…”

He hunched over, out of breath. The face of another appeared behind him. “Jeongin! I told you to slow down, you’re in no condition to be running around like…” He stopped, blinking into the darkness. “Y/n? Why are you here?”

Brown hair, matching eyes. Mr. Excuse-Me-From-This-Horrifically-Awkward-Dinner. You just smiled, lazily in response. “Hello, Seungmin.”

The young...caretaker nodded, acknowledging you before being swatted away by his patient. A flash of vacancy lit up the night sky as you turned the opposite away, facing the other two in a triangle. Jeongin hustled to shut the barn doors despite Seungmin’s protests, and pretty soon the three...four of you, with Felix taking a nosedive for the hay, sat in awkward silence.

It was almost an encore of dinner not but twenty or thirty minutes ago, though not as worse. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say something, but neither wanted to be the first to speak. Finally, after twenty-odd seconds of nose scratches, unnecessary shifting, and forced coughs, the only employee with a braincell sat up a little straighter.

“Listen,” Seungmin began, using his hands to speak. “About Hyunjin—”

The beast. No thank you. You swatted your hands before you. “I do not want nor need to have another conversation about that ill-mannered buffoon.”

“...I’m pretty sure this is the first one.”

“Second,” Jeongin inquired. “...Right?”

“I’m not counting the first encounter,” Seungmin...countered. “Those never count.”

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, I can see why—”

“Enough!” You yelled. “...It doesn’t matter if this is the first or second or even the tenth time. I can tell you one thing, it’s definitely the last.”

Seungmin gave you a pitying look. “We all have to walk on eggshells around him.” His voice sounded pleading, borderline apologetic, and all-over exhausted. “...It gets rough, I know. I understand he’s not the easiest person to get along with. He’s very different and outcast and behind the times. But if you could just hear me out for—”

“Hear us out,” Jeongin corrected. He gave you the cutest, saddest smile a boy of his caliber could possibly manage. It made your heart melt; it didn’t help that he was still ill to boot. “I heard what you did for me, Y/n. I really appreciate your concern. No one has ever stayed, especially when one of us...has an...episode.”

His gaze grew sad and distant. You could feel your heart sizzling in a pool of pity. “...This has happened...before?” you whispered.

Jeongin nodded, Seungmin averting his eyes. “...Yeah.” He said. “Twice to Jeongin, three times to Han, Hyunjin too many to count...and uh…” He scratched his cheek, holding up an index finger. Eyes peeking shyly under the hood of neatly-groomed bangs. “...Once I may have...had a bad day.”

“Wow…” Felix mumbled, head sticking out of the hay barrel. The boy looked like a stray whack-a-mole project. “That sounds rough. Been there done that.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him down with two fingers. He let out a muffled squeak on the way down. “So…” ...You sighed. “...What is it that you wanted to say, then? This is the last time I’m listening. I only went to that banquet to make sure Jeongin was okay.” Another crack of lighting pierced the sky, followed by the ominous rumbling of thunder. “You have maybe ten minutes, since the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. But after that, I’d like to be left alone in peace until I can leave this joint. Go.”

Seungmin nearly beamed nonexistent sunshine. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Get to the basics. Just the essentials.”

“The company fell under a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair while Jeongin glanced nervously at the door. “The company, this place. The first thing you need to know about Hyunjin is that he wasn’t always this way. And I’m not just talking about the curse. He’s the son of a wealthy businessman; this is his estate. He owns the whole town...or at least, he did.” His eyes scanned the walls and dusty interior, as if checking to see if someone else was watching. As if taking in the entirety of the estate. “...Now it belongs to Hyunjin. Everything.”

You crossed your arms. “I could have put that together myself. He’s obviously a rich, spoiled brat.”

“There’s more. The people that know him personally know him for who he really is.”

You huffed. Unbelievable, really. “And what would that be?” You pressed. “A monster?”

A bitter silence flushed the room. You instantly felt a pang of resentment at that remark. Perhaps...again, that was a bit too harsh.

“...I’m sorry.” Your arms laid in surrender across your lap. “Please continue.”

“......” Seungmin glanced to his left. “You wanna pick up from here?”

He leaned back, Jeongin lifting himself to take the lead. “...Hyunjin is a pain in the ass. He’s a pain in the morning, we basically play rock paper scissors to see who has the unfortunate task of waking him up and handling his breakfast, and to decide who’s turn it is to do laundry and lunch we place bets on when he’ll randomly combust in a daily rage or which book he’ll throw across the room first.” He counted on his fingers, listing them off one by one. “For dinner and his bath we usually draw straws or play an old board game, but Han often cheats, so…”

...His voice trailed off, eyes intently examining his mental checklist. You frowned. “...What does any of this have to do with…” Shook your head. “What are you saying again?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he bowed. Cute. “What I meant to say was that deep down Hyunjin is actually a very kind person, but...I just ended up making him sound like an overly-dependent...man...child.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twirling a piece of hay around your finger. “Well he sure does seem like it. His manners at the dinner table were atrocious and incredibly beast-like.”

“But you don’t know him like we do,” Seungmin insisted...then smiled, apologetically so, sitting up straight again. “...Forgive me. But what we’re trying to say is, Hyunjin is really a nice guy, he’s just...stuck. You definitely didn’t help with that daily ledger,” he scolded beside him. Jeongin bowed again.

“Well, sorry, I was just trying to—”

“Stuck?”

That lone word rang out like a gunshot. Seungmin and Jeongin both turned to you with sour eyes, the former swallowing a bit uncomfortably. “...Yes, stuck.”

“In what? Time? Space? Adolescence?” You tilted your head. “Because he never learned to grow up?”

“Exactly! ...Sort of.”

You glanced down to the hay-riddled fabric adorning your lap. It’d never really occurred to you to analyze or care anything for Hyunjin’s personal life, mostly because you weren’t planning on staying and the moment you saw him transform, you didn’t want to know. Your instincts told you to run, to flee, to flood your system with a coping-mechanism gene and forget and ignore what you just saw. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you were scared...and who in their right mind wouldn’t be?

...But hearing this now...even given the smallest sliver of insight…

...Well, your mother had often scolded you for being nosy. “So you’re saying he never learned how to...grow up.”

Both boys nodded. “That definitely can be said.”

“And so, that’s why he acts out.” You looked around, questions popping up about the hedge maze in your mind from every direction. “How long has he been alone here? Where are his parents? …How old is he?” Your eyes focused on Seungmin. “What happened to him, exactly?”

“......” Seungmin and Jeongin shared a look. It all but drove you crazy how long it took one of them to answer. “...Do you have longer than ten minutes?”

| Twelve ❧

“Hyunjin was born to a wealthy mother and a poor, impoverished father in the year XXXX. No one knows where or how they met; Hyunjin is very selective and quiet on the matter. However, documents of his mother’s family buried in one of many attics claim they met at some time around the Summer harvest festival, an annual event that used to take place here in New Amber.

“It was the responsibility of noble families to uphold the annual harvest ceremony at the start of the season. As a part of tradition, many noble families and a few middle class families with connections to noblemen and their wives would use this great gathering to announce engagements and arranged marriages, in order to shift the power to new families and invite a sense of balance to the community. Hyunjin’s mother was reportedly sixteen years old at her time of arranged marriage, to the wealthiest family in New Amber next to the king; a family called the Song’s.

“The Song family oversought all affairs in the king’s absence; which he was absent a lot, given his aloof nature and uncaring attitude towards politics. The Song family basically ruled the city with an iron fist; many offers came to them from pushy mothers or greedy fathers who wished for their sons and daughters to tie a knot to the family name, connecting a chain to their own. A man by the name of Yun Jeongsun, Hyunjin’s grandfather, was one such parent. He weaseled his way into the Song’s good graces, and they offered their youngest son to be wed.

“Hyunjin’s mother, Yun Haerin, was against the marriage from the start. She had no interest in marriage, and instead wanted to craft her own trade to be of use to society. She wished to work alongside the Song family, rather than become one herself. As you can imagine, this angered many people; not only did it go against protocol at the time, but refusing an offer from the ruling family was considered a huge offense. And the Song family took it that way.

“As she was packing to leave the city one night— as she’d decided to melodramatically run away from her problems— she was met with Hyunjin’s father, a dirt-scratcher named Hwang Jihoon. The Hwang family had fallen on hard times ten years prior when their oil company snagged a few false investments, and the company went bankrupt and fell under. Having learned to fend for himself and adapt to life on the streets, Hwang Jihoon saved Yun Haerin from some typical back alley bandits, and finding her fancy offered to escort her to her new life outside of town.

“As you can probably guess, the two fell in love during their travels, and settled for a simple life outside of New Amber. However...Hwang Jihoon wanted more for his family.

“No one in the Hwang family ever forgot or gave up resenting the hardships they faced. And no one especially more than eldest son Jihoon. To summarize and keep this short...Hwang Jihoon became a tyrant. He used Haerin’s maiden name to forge a new path for the Hwang’s, and eventually, the nameless city they had escaped to fell flat. It couldn’t withstand the intense amount of economic tyranny and inflation. The taxation without representation. Hwang Jihoon had swindled his family to the top and drained the entire community dry.

“So they went back to New Amber. For stability. For revenge. Now having the security and stability he needed, which he stole from others, the Hwang family came back with an iron fist of their own. Due to a current drought and a bad economic year, not to mention the king up and abandoning his people, not even the Song family could stand up to them. And promising a new resurrection of New Amber, Hwang Jihoon took the throne.

“He crowned himself King of New Amber and tore half the city apart drilling for oil. As luck would have it, the community had been sitting atop a natural oil reserve that flooded the country back into promising times. Things were actually quite peaceful for the first five years...until they ran out of oil. Taking the snag in stride, however, Jihoon used his deceit and backhanded tactics to manipulate the economy, trading and stealing from other cities. Because he was so crafty, no one caught on until it was too late.

“Hyunjin had been born just a year before. Upon his birth, Haerin and Jihoon began having marital problems, according to a diary entry by Haerin. In it she claims to have regretted her choice in marrying Jihoon, and that she’d fallen out of love with him. She claims that his only interest was power and revenge, tearing down the social hierarchy to make everyone pay— and the unfortunate effects it was having on everyone.

“In her last entry, Haerin claimed to fear for her life. She wrote that Jihoon had violently threatened to forfeit her life if it meant continuing his reign. She was never seen or heard from after that…”

...Seungmin’s voice grew faint for a while. Tension in the air rose higher, the thickness suffocating.

You couldn’t believe such a tragic and long-rich history had occurred in such a wasteland. It obviously had fallen eventually, but…

You needed to hear more. “...So he killed her? Then what happened?”

Seungmin nodded, slowly. “It likely wasn’t him. Due to his constant appearance in the public eye, it’s more probable to say he hired someone to do the job.”

You shivered. How awful.

As Jeongin fished out and dusted off an old blanket for you, his light coughs echoing around the barn, Seungmin continued. “With Haerin gone and the Yun family name no longer needed, Jihoon continued to thrive and plunge the city to new heights— and a harder fall. He manipulated the economy to continue spinning in his favor; meanwhile, as years flew by and he became older, he began having thoughts of the future, and who would succeed in his place. Because he was a man with no trust in anyone but himself, he summoned his only son— Hwang Hyunjin— to be molded in lessons of business and trade. How to lie, cheat, and steal.

“Supposedly the brainwashing began around the age of nine. Hyunjin had been a clueless child sent away to be cared for by a few nuns from the community in a remote location before; he’d grown up without any friends, never knowing the love of a mother or father. Only the required care provided by the Sisters of the Church. However, that does not mean he was never unhappy; the sisters did a fine job of raising him, and they truly did grow to love Hyunjin as their own.

“Of course that all changed when he was taken back to the palace. From then on Hyunjin spent his days locked away in the estate’s highest tower, like a prince out of a fairytale; forced into the education of topics he could scarcely fathom. Another maid who kept a journal of her own reported the occasional, almost frequent scream coming from the prince’s tower. She noted them as punishments for incorrect responses and behavior.

“Hyunjin was fourteen when his father died. Five years of torture and humiliation, along with a healthy dose of effective brainwashing, formed him into an angry and bitter soul. Originally, he wanted nothing to do with his father’s company. He wanted nothing to do with the position of king; but being outnumbered and powerless against the force of countless impoverished civilians forced him to make changes.

“...I did the best I could to help him. As an advisor in training to Jihoon, I truly did what I could. Honestly, seeing him that one day...the day of his coronation...it fascinated me. There, I thought. Up there on the highest balcony. That’s the boy rumored to be the source of the screaming at night. That’s the boy who is Jihoon’s only son. His flesh and blood. The son of the late Haerin, a lasting survivor of the Yun legacy.”

Seungmin took a deep breath here, sighing out into the open space between you. Watching him flashback nearly took your breath away.

“...And so it came to be that Hwang Hyunjin took the downfall of his father’s handiwork. The moment he sat down at the throne, all the lies his father weaved came unraveled. All the shortcuts and manipulation tactics came back to haunt him. All the stolen time and resources were forced to be paid back in full. Hyunjin could hardly bear the weight of it all; the toll was almost too great. Many people saw him as cursed, and up and fled the palace to be with their families in poverty. But they hadn’t seen anything yet...”

“So…” You hesitantly reached a hand forward, then flinched, retracting it. “...I’m sorry to interrupt. But how did he...um…”

Seungmin gave a bitter half-smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m almost there.

“One night at the head of a harsh Winter, an old woman showed up seeking shelter. Hyunjin was out stalking the palace halls lamenting his position, and upon answering, turned her away.”

Your eyes widened. “She was...the Witch of the Biome. Er, whatever her name is…”

Seungmin nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Witch revealed herself to Hyunjin, and put a curse upon all who were present within these walls. At the time that was...well, there were a few others, but before you ask about them...they’re gone now.”

You listed your head a moment before realizing what he meant. “...O-Oh...I’m so...sorry…”

The advisor shrugged. “It was a while ago. There was nothing we could do about it. It was their choice…”

Sniffling filled your ear from down below. You bowed your head to find Felix with tears in his eyes, turning to you in need of comfort. Gently, you lifted him onto one leg, hovering cupped hands around him. “And then?”

“Then...well…” He gestured around him. “Here we are today. After the people saw what he had become, families and villagers left, some in hoards, others more sparingly. But eventually the whole city was left to erosion. Hyunjin couldn’t hide his curse forever; and neither could we.”

He stood suddenly, dusting stands of hay and a few piles of dust from the atmosphere away from him. Outside, the sounds of clarity of nightfall graced your ears.

“So now you know. This is Hyunjin’s story...and our own.”

“So then, why am I here?”

This question seemed to catch Jeongin by surprise; but Seungmin smiled as if anticipating the notion. “The Witch tends to spout riddles about how her curses can be broken; it’s like some weird tick or bad habit while she’s casting them. Or maybe it’s just the incantation itself; no one really knows. However…” He scratched his cheek, looking to Jeongin for confirmation. The red-head nodded. “We were hoping you would be the one to break the curse. You see, the incantation, according to Hyunjin, went something like this:

“Lips to lips and mouth to mouth Calls the speaker of the shrouds Summon forth your courage and might In order to love and end within night But yet if still ye cannot fathom Ending here the chilling anthem Suffer still and face your demise For all the passing days of sunrise.”

The smallest gasp escaped your lips. Sunrise...sunrise. When sunrise comes, and all is lost...

“...Hyunjin sort of lost his way after the curse was cast. Well...no. He’d lost his way a long time ago. I guess what I’m trying to say is, he never found his way to begin with. So he really lost it after the curse hit, and he was forced back into hiding. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was so...messed up. It was just a mess. His whole life had been a dark, night-infested wasteland...much like this town, almost...and then it was like someone came and dropped a hedge maze over it. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was already lost. So he just...screamed. And cracked. He broke, like many of the mirrors you’ll find around here. Covering it up with a delusional fantasy. That’s why he acts the way he does; sort of like he’s just existing, and nothing is really wrong. Inside...it’s chaos inside his mind. Just an ill-chosen coping mechanism to disguise the front of war. So, Y/n…”

You flinched at the mention of your name, sitting up straighter. Seungmin looked down upon you with an intense fire.

“Now that you know the story, what will you do? I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into staying, so I hope you don’t feel that way. Nor did I tell it to scare you. You have nothing to fear but fear itself; something we’ve been trying to teach Hyunjin for a long time…” He sighed.

You glanced around the worn-down barn. At the empty hay barrels, the decaying wood structures, the various puddles of rain seeping in. What were you going to do? It was a tough decision to make...and a lot of information to process.

Your eyes traveled down to the lone marking on your wrist, now appearing to have settled into something bolder. It was definitely a petal, or an ambrosial symbol of some sort. The Mark of the Rose…

You swallowed hard. It would seem your destiny had led you here. Even if it was a sudden destiny, a fate you never asked for. If you were going to get your old life back, well, it looked like you were going to have to take a detour. “I think...I’m going to do what I have to.”

At the other side of the barn, Seungmin blinked, remaining ever calm and collected since the moment you first met him. Jeongin, on the other hand, bore his eyes into you as if waiting to hear the climax of the story. “And what’s that?” Seungmin asked.

You stood, placing Felix on your shoulder. “You’ll see. Just watch me.”

| End Act One ❧

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

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emotionalgirl101 · 4 years

Text

Zone II | Changbin

Scenario; now a mini series Pairing: Changbin x reader Summary: You decide to wash off the past half an hour and take some time for yourself. Yeah no, that’s not gonna go to plan. Warning: Soft dom!Changbin, shower sex, slight praise kink, slight arm/muscle kink, oral (m receiving), fingering, slightly rough, aftercare fluff at the end - Smut 16+

A/n: Part 1 here - thank you all for 500+ notes and for being so patient with me for getting the next part up! Chan is up next but I have a few other fics in the works so it might be a little while. I love you! (listened to Aphrodite by RINI) Words: 2,668

Well… that was fun. You closed the door once Chan had left. You didn’t bother locking it. Chan and Changbin both knew you were in the bathroom and weren’t the type to barge in anyway. You didn’t worry about Jisung since the boy had practically bolted out the door when he saw you. You stripped down, grateful for the fresh clothes from Changbin. Flashes of what had happened moments prior flooded your mind as if being saved in your memory. They played out like a highlight reel, interrupted only when you noticed his masterpiece in the mirror. Your collarbones were painted black and blue but you weren’t complaining. They would be easy enough to hide until they healed, and oddly enough you liked the feeling. You weren’t necessarily someone who wanted to be claimed but you liked the idea that he wanted you to be his, even if it was only for one night. That’s when the soft smile that had crept onto your face fell. Shit. What was going to happen now? In the heat of the moment you hadn’t quite had the time to contemplate whether or not it was a good idea to sleep with Changbin or what the aftermath of the whole situation would be. Chan’s reaction seemed like he thought it was inevitable. Maybe it was. You never really considered whether or not either of you were in the friend zone, which now seems like a clear indicator that, in fact, neither of you had been. It had naturally progressed to this point. It’s too late to go back now anyway. The line had been crossed and now you had to figure out where you would go from here. Would you go back to normal? Like it never happened? Was this the start of a relationship or was some kind of dating phase supposed to follow this? All you knew was that you didn’t want Changbin to walk out of your life after this. That, and that friends with benefits would only end with one or both of you hurt. You finally realised you’d been staring into space for awhile now and your body had formed goosebumps upon your skin. Standing around naked wasn’t going to help with anything, so you turned on the shower and put on some music to drown out your thoughts; just loud enough so you could hear it over the stream of hot water you were stepping into. You let the water wash the embarrassment away, revelling in the pleasure you felt not too long before. So what that he was your friend? So what you crossed a line? If movies taught you anything, being awkward about it would just make things worse. Just enjoy the moment and let things happen naturally- You felt a slight chill replaced by warmth. The glass door had been shut again. A pair of arms wrap around you. You unconsciously smiled as his lips pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before resting his chin on top. You felt yourself relax into him and ignore the thought that surfaced; you could get used to this. His voice broke through the background noise that the water and music created. “You didn’t lock the door.” His sounded sleepy and relaxed. Maybe he was enjoying this just as much as you were. Having you in his arms- you couldn’t afford to think like that. Stop. “The only people home knew I was in the shower. Didn’t feel the need to.” You hummed and felt him slightly nod. He began to shift his body weight from one foot to the other. You were swaying gently, the coverage of the water moving up your body and back down again. You closed your eyes, feeling soothed by the momentum. Up and back, up and back. You were like this for awhile. Changbin hummed among to the music playing from your phone and you relaxed into his hold even more. The whole moment was calming and this time you didn’t push away the thought that you could stay like this forever. You were content, listening to the melody falling from his lips and the feeling of his thumb rubbing comfortingly against your skin. It was perfect. Then the song changed. The song that came on had a strong base and sensual vibe, unintentionally changing the atmosphere around you. Soon enough, Changbin’s lips were dragging across your skin again. The contacted slowly began to melt you, more so when he began to kiss your shoulders and the base of your neck. Then something clicked. There was a way to get your answer. To figure out what you wanted from this. What you wanted to happen. You turned around slowly and held his face in your hands. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist. His eyes never left yours. You just stood like that for awhile, letting your gaze fall once or twice lower, to his lips. He closed his eyes and you followed suit. The kiss was much like the first of the night, as was the next few that followed. He was soft and warm, gentle and sweet, enjoying the feeling of your lips against his. His lips were just as plush as the looked, molding perfectly to yours. You broke part for a few seconds to catch your breath, foreheads testing against one another. He made the first move again, moving his hand to the back of your head and reconnecting his lips to yours. It felt right, as he deepened the kiss. Your hands slowly fell, resting near the base of his neck as you let him take the lead. It didn’t take long for him to act on the building tension. His hand left the base of your neck and snaked down below. The circling of his finger on your clit making you hum, growing into a soft moan when he plunged it into your core. He slowly pumped in and out, locking lips to swallow your moans. Chan was still nearby and you could do without him hearing this time around. You began to feel your high build, biting your swollen lips. Changbin did the same to maintain the effort of his fingers once he began drilling into you. You cling onto his shoulders for dear life. He was doing anything but slowing down. He lifted one of your legs with his free arm, the muscle visibly flexing. The new angle allowed him to add an extra finger. You had no chance of staying silent now. You pulled back only for a second to look him in the eyes. He was beautiful in this moment. His orbs were glazed over with pure lust. The water running over his torso made him glisten. His damp hair drenched by the glow of water from above. He held you tightly in his grip, keeping you in place as he strived to bring you to your high. You would remember him like this. The concentration and passion consuming him, his sole focus on you. He stole a kiss to keep you quiet while he moved within you. In another timeline, you imagine this would be the moment you fell in love. Not to long after, you were broken out of this trance. Your body reacting to the feeling of his thumb being added to your clit again brought you back to reality. Your mind was now instead clouded by the euphoric feeling. You could feel your high approaching. You looked back at Changbin to see he was now looking straight back at you. He was drinking in the sight of you, a mess under his control. You were having trouble staying quiet, about to give up when his lips reconnected with yours for a second time. A strange feeling you couldn’t place was bubbling within and sent you ever the edge. You became hyper aware of your surroundings. The feeling of the warm water on your body and how it was nowhere near as warm as his skin. His fingers were still inside you, helping you ride out your high as he continued to kiss you. You relaxed into him as the feeling faded. The warmth he provided remained. He gently placed your leg to the ground, slightly afraid when you immediately fell to your knees. You looked up at him with a flirtatious smile as your hands trailed up his legs. He finally caught on to what you had in mind. You reached his member and took it in your mouth. You swallowed around his head, moving further down, with the excess in your hand, flickering your eyes back to his as you pulled back. He was barely able to look at you through his lashes. The pleasure your mouth brought was consuming him, his breath growing heavy. As you moved closer, your tongue zigzagged along his under side. He couldn't hold his own anymore. He was weak for you, the power you had over him proving too much. He knitted his fingers in your hair, holding himself up with his other hand against the wall. His groans were low and airy, just enjoying your movements. The new sense of confidence and power his current demeanour gave you only encouraged the need to make him cum. It made you feel good, like he was only like this for you. You weren’t sure if that was true but the look on his face was enough to doubt anything on the contrary. Right now, only you could make him feel this way. At this point in time, it was just the two of you. You were the only two people in the world.

You pulled back and suckled on the head. He hissed and looked at you again, a smile playing on his lips quickly interrupted by a moan as you swiftly moved back down his shaft. You did this a few more times before you decided you wanted to tip him over the edge. Your other hand came up from the cold tiles to cup his balls. He hissed again, this time a reaction to the contrast of your cold hands. You massaged them a little, still taking him almost fully, looking up at him through your lashes. The look on his face was pure insanity and ecstasy. He was losing it, all because of you. You liked that. This time you had the upper hand. Then, as you so painfully slowly pulled back, letting your tongue dance along the underside of his shaft, you saw it. It was a flicker and it was hot as hell. You saw the moment he snapped. His hand suddenly gain strengthen and pushed you down unto him again. You gaged when you hit the base of his cock, his full length roughly hitting the back of your throat. The grunt that escaped his lips was full of lust. His eyes found yours and he quickly began fucking your mouth. He barely let you breathe as he slammed into you at an inhumane pace. His enjoyment of shoving himself halfway down your throat was more than clear, more so when you clung to his legs for stability. You wanted him to come, even if it meant you’d have a sore throat the next morning. You began to become desensitised to the feeling, focusing on the hot water that hit your skin, creating streams as it ran down your body. You were brought back into the moment when the dirty talk came into play. “How does it feel baby? You like my cock in your mouth? You like the feel of me half way down your throat, huh? Your pretty little mouth looks so good from here.” You felt yourself get wet again at the words. You were grateful for the hot water being there to soothe you. He liked the power play, too. “You want to taste my cum, baby? You’ve been such a good girl.” You moaned around him at the praise, feeling his cock twitch at the sensation.

“You feel so good, baby. Fuck.” His praised spurred you on, moaning around him, again.

“Fuck, I’m— oh fuck” you had him speechless. You knew he was letting you know he was close. You couldn’t wait to taste him. You never usually felt this way, especially when it came to swallowing. It seemed like Seo Changbin was an exception to many things in your life, but were you complaining? Soon after, your mouth was painted white. You let him have a few more messy pumps down your throat before you moved up and off his shaft. Your lips gathering every last drop of his cum. You opened your mouth so he could see before you swallowed, showing him again to prove how much of a good girl you were. “Fuck, that’s so hot.” He muttered. He helped you back onto your feet, taking your chin between his fingers as he shared a long, passionate kiss with you. This one felt different. There was more emotion. Genuine feeling. It wasn’t a ‘thank you’ or sexually driven in any way. It just felt good. When the kiss broke, he looked at you a little longer than usual, moving the hair stuck to your face back into place before taking you in his arms. You rested their for awhile, the two of you gently swaying under the warm water again, content in one another’s embrace. Fuck. You weren’t falling for him, right?... After awhile, the water was turned off. A towel was placed around your shoulders. A kiss was pressed to your forehead. You dried yourself off and changed into the clothes Changbin had given you a little while ago. Changbin had left you to your own devices. It was kind of cute that he wanted to respect your privacy despite already seeing you naked twice in one night. He really was a sweet and genuine guy. He made you laugh, feel safe, feel like you could be yourself. Maybe your friendship turning into something more wasn’t such a bad thing. You went back to his room to find he had already packed everything up for the night. You didn’t miss that he turned over the sheets on the side of bed he didn’t sleep on. “Am I staying the night?” He was over by his dresser, fiddling with his phone which he almost dropped once he realised he was no longer alone. You smiled as he quickly recovered it, turning to look at you as he choked out “only if you want to” followed by “I-I’d like you to stay.” That was all you needed. You crawled into bed, taking a sip of the fresh glass of water he had thoughtfully put out for you. His smile was wider than a Cheshire Cat as he got in beside you. A small amount of meaningless small talk was made as you both laid down and pulled up the covers. He told you there was no word from your tutor, so you were better to stop work for the night. You heard the front door open and a lot of loud chatter fill the apartment just as he turn the lights out. Changbin giggled beside you. “What?” You whispered. “Nothing,” he replied, “Just that I’d told them we’d be working all night. Turns out it we ended up working on something else...” You hit his hand that was securely around your waist in a playful matter, giggling along with him. “They’ll be surprised to see me tomorrow morning.” “We can just tell them we pulled an all nighter, if you... or we could actually do it.” You knew exactly what he was insinuating with that tone of voice. Two rounds was enough, thank you, and you were quite exhausted. You just giggled at his playful remark. You naturally melted into him as you began to lose consciousness. The last thing you felt was a kiss being pressed against your shoulder followed by a whispered ‘good night’.

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usermischief · 3 years

Photo

no place for promises

chapter 40: The Charity Game

Warnings: - You can read it on AO3 as well.

—-

Stiles never liked silence. It made him feel like he was being punished, especially when he’s around someone he has plenty to talk about with, and it usually doesn’t take a lot of effort for Stiles to find a new topic. But Theo makes silence comfortable. He brushes his fingers up and down Stiles’ arm as they’re sitting in the bed of his truck, watching cars whizz by the school’s parking lot. It’s still empty since the game isn’t about to start for two more hours, but his team will arrive sooner than usual. For some reason, Stiles managed to forget that the charity game will have media coverage. There will be more people than usual. Stiles tugs at the wristband, brushing his thumb over the cool metal. There will be more people to witness something going wrong.

Sighing, Theo tightens his arm around him momentarily. “What’s up?”

“Mmm?” Stiles leans his head against Theo’s shoulder and lowers his hands.

“What’s up?”

He taps his finger against Theo’s leg. Right now, he’d rather be anywhere but at school, waiting for the charity game to start. He looks up at Theo, a part of him still amazed that he’s happy in his arms now when only two months ago, Stiles tried to convince everybody that Theo was about to murder them. “Nothing,” he mutters, leaning up just enough to kiss his jaw.

“That’s not really your ‘nothing’ face,” Theo remarks, looking at him with a raised brow.

Stiles squints at him. “I have a ‘nothing’ face?”

Theo studies at him, blue eyes bright with amusement. "You have a lot of faces," he informs him, pressing his thumb underneath Stiles' chin to tilt his head back just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. "This one looks a lot like existential dread."

Despite himself, Stiles snorts out a laugh. “That doesn’t sound great.”

Theo hums. “It usually isn’t. Is this about Nolan?”

Stiles shakes his head and sits up straighter, bending his legs. “I don’t know.” He crosses his arms over his knees, watching a red car zoom before fumbling with the wristband again. It doesn’t really bother him all that much anymore, but he’s not used to it yet. “You know that weird feeling you sometimes get? That feeling that something terrible is about to happen?” Saying that sounds way too familiar, and it’s not very reassuring.

Grabbing his hand, Theo stops him from tugging on the wristband. His skin is soft and warm, his grip almost commanding. After his resistance from earlier today, he probably worried Stiles might yank it off. “If it’s you getting that feeling, it’s usually a bad sign.”

Stiles scowls. “I did not need that vote of confidence.”

“I’m just saying…” Theo trails off for a moment, running his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. It’s hard to judge what he’s thinking about, but judging by the tight line he’s pressed his lips into, it’s probably not a good thing. Sighing, Theo bends his leg as well and leans back against the rear window of his truck. “Maybe we shouldn’t find the Dread Doctors.”

“What?” Stiles whips his head around. “Why not?”

For all but a moment, Theo gestures his hand around in a very un-Theo-like way. “You get this hunch an hour after we found a way to track them down. It’s not what I would call a good sign.”

“If I get that hunch after we track them down, then you have reason to worry,” Stiles notes, but Theo simply clenches his jaw and glares at him. Not the time for jokes. He probably should’ve expected that. Sighing, Stiles scoots closer to Theo and loops his arm around his. “You know we have to,” he says quietly, placing his hand on top of Theo’s. “They’re escalating because they’re running out of time. I can’t let them go around killing teenagers for their fucked up experiment. It screws with the balance — especially if they succeed..” The amount of chaos the Dread Doctors’ creation could cause if it stayed alive for more than an hour is something Stiles really doesn’t want to think about. And if they manage to create one successfully, what’s going to happen if they create an army of them?

Theo closes his eyes. “What if we don’t? What if we let somebody else deal with this?”

“This is my job now, Misiu.” As the nemeton, he’s supposed to keep the balance. He can’t just let the Dread Doctors do whatever they want. But it’s not just the balance. It’s Beacon Hills. As much as he hates this town sometimes, it’s still his home.

Intertwining their fingers, Theo opens his eyes with a grimace. “A month ago, I’d never thought there would be a point in my life where I hoped you’d be merely human.”

Stiles scoffs, squeezing Theo’s hand. “That wouldn’t stop me.”

“No.” Theo chuckles. It’s a humorless sound, weary almost. “But I could stop you.”

“I most likely wouldn’t forgive you.”

“I’d take that risk.” Licking his lips, Theo turns his head to face him. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. Instead, Theo looks as if he’s resigned himself to a fate he doesn’t much appreciate.

“All I’m asking is that you don’t do anything stupid.”

Stiles smiles a little, leaning over to kiss Theo’s jaw just underneath his ear. “Define stupid,” he whispers, propping his chin on Theo’s shoulder.

His dear boyfriend shrugs him off — rude, by the way — and turns his head to glare at him. The quiet exasperation is gone. Now, he just looks pissed. “It should include 9 out of 10 ideas you have,” Theo growls, and he grabs his chin, narrowing his eyes further, “but mostly, it’s about doing something irreversible. Just… promise me. ”

Stiles bites his bottom lip, studying Theo’s features for what feels like forever, and kisses him. This is a promise he can’t make. Theo knows he cannot make this promise. That doesn’t mean Stiles will throw himself into danger to play the hero, but he’s not going to run the other way if his dad is in danger, or Theo… or anybody else he cares about. That’s not the kind of person he is. He would never run and hide. Not as long as he can do something. Not as long as he can fight.

Theo knows it, and he knows that nothing he says is ever going to change his mind. That’s why the arm around his waist is a bit too tight as Theo hoists him onto his lap. That’s why his fingertips press a bit too hard against his thigh. That’s why his kiss is almost bruising. Theo’s fear of losing him is real, palpable. It’s etched in every way he moves, the way he touches and kisses him.

No matter how hard Stiles kisses him back, no matter how tight Stiles holds onto him, it will never change. This fear of losing him is so deeply ingrained in Theo, and Stiles is worried he’ll do something stupid one day and get himself killed.

Theo sighs into the kiss. “As much as I’d love to continue this,” he whispers against his lips, losing his grip almost reluctantly, “we’ve got company.”

Scrunching up his face, Stiles kisses Theo one more time before he leans back and glances over his shoulder. Seeing Lydia, Danny, and Jackson should be a relief because Jackson is bound to take his mind off things with his incessant talking about lacrosse, but neither Lydia nor Danny look particularly happy.

Lydia keeps tugging at the end of her ponytail with a frown. Her eyes are trained on Theo and Stiles, but she’s not really looking at them. She purses her lips.

As Jackson opens his mouth, Danny not so subtly hits him with the gym bag. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t start what?” Theo asks, pushing himself into a standing position as he studies Danny, Jackson, and Lydia with a raised brow.

The question seems to pull Lydia out of whatever unpleasant thoughts she’s been stuck in. Her face brightens, and her lips curl into an almost devilish expression. That doesn’t bode well. Not even a little bit. “Jackson’s been talking about you and Brett so much; Danny and I are sure he’s fantasizing about a threesome.”

Theo’s calm expression turns murderous. By the way he towers over Jackson, standing on the bed of his truck, it’s not too far-fetched to think he’s about to hurl himself at Jackson to make sure he’s not going to think anything like that ever again.

Hidden from view, Stiles curls his fingers around Theo’s ankle for a change. He’s trying his hardest to ignore the flutter in his chest as Theo almost instantly moves to crouch down behind him. Stiles has to let go but grins when Theo’s arms wrap around his shoulders; his demeanor so different, it’s almost as if Stiles flipped some type of switch. He knows the ankle is a soft spot for Theo.

“So,” Stiles says, returning his attention to Lydia, Jackson, and Danny, “that’s never gonna happen.

Jackson looks almost offended at that. “Excuse me?” He leans forward, narrowing his eyes as Danny rolls his. “Are you saying I’m not your type?” Could he be any more predictable? Of course, Jackson is more offended about the fact that Stiles doesn’t want to have sex with him than the fact that his best friend and probably soon-to-be girlfriend are mocking his obsession with lacrosse and taking down Brett.

“Yes.” Stiles pats Theo’s arms and moves to stand. “That is exactly what I am saying.”

“Wow.”

Danny pats Jacksons’ shoulder. “And here I thought you were everybody’s type.”

“Shut up.”

Lydia laughs, but something about her seems off. Her eyes are looking at something far away. But not in a good way. She grabs her upper arm, looking like she wants to hold herself.

Drawing his eyebrows together, Stiles scrambles off the bed of the truck. He curls an arm around Lydia’s shoulders. Almost as if on instinct, she wraps her arms around his waist and presses her face against his upper arm. Stiles glances at Jackson, who looks just as confused as Stiles feels. She isn’t usually like this. Unless she’s sensing something. “Lydia,” Stiles whispers, pulling her closer, “what’s going on?”

She pulls her shoulders up. “A feeling.”

Theo lands with a thud, brushing invisible dust off his jeans. “That makes two with a hunch.”

“Huh?” Danny raises a brow.

Theo gestures in Stiles’ direction. “He has a weird feeling as well.”

“It’s a lacrosse game,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes. “You guys need to calm down. Nobody’s gonna die aside from those Devenford Prep students. Come on.” He turns on his heels, motioning for them to follow. “Let’s go.”

Stiles exchanges a brief glance with Theo, who shrugs, but doesn’t look entirely convinced by Jackson’s words. That would make three of them. If even Lydia has a weird feeling about tonight, something isn’t right. Unless they’re really just worried because they have a terrible history with lacrosse games. He lets out a shaky breath and grabs Theo’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “Let’s go,” he mumbles, following Jackson, and tries to ignore the dread pooling in his stomach.

----------

Kira leans her head against Stiles’ shoulder, sighing quietly, and rolls her lacrosse stick between her hands. As the only girl, she was allowed last into the boys’ locker room, which means she tragically missed out on fifteen minutes of Jackson talking. Stiles envies her. If he hears one more time how they have to destroy Devenford Prep, he’s going to lose his mind. At least seventy percent of the teenagers present have stopped listening to Jackson at one point or another. Danny, being the great best friend that he is, looks as if he’s still paying attention.

Stiles glances at Liam, who chews on his left lacrosse glove with a frown. It’s hard to tell if he’s still listening to a single word or if his mind is occupied with having to go against his former team yet again.

Scott, who is standing to Liam’s right, hasn’t paid Jackson’s speech any mind ever since Kira entered the room. Hopefully, he plans on leaving her alone during the game because Stiles is pretty sure Jackson isn’t going to let him off with a warning this time. It’s much more likely that he’ll rip his head off if he doesn’t focus on the game.

Yawning, Stiles leans his head against the locker at his back. He’s glad that everything will be over in three hours. He's not at all excited, and, to his surprise, he isn’t nervous either. Probably because he doesn’t have any other job than annoying Brett for the whole game, and since he’s occupied with the star player, Stiles probably won’t get the ball once. It takes a lot of pressure off, but it doesn’t exactly make for a fun game, especially not since Brett takes lacrosse way too seriously as well. He might not be as bad as Jackson, but it’s still insanely irritating.

Kira props her chin on his shoulder. “If I destroy the light bulbs,” she says so quietly, Stiles has to tilt his head towards her to catch her words, “do you think he’ll stop talking?”

“Pretty sure not even the apocalypse could stop him now,” Stiles replies, raising his eyebrows. It’s a lovely thought, but Jackson is in the middle of talking about his decision to make the Cyclones the strongest team Beacon County has ever seen. Which is a lie. After all, Jackson only became a member of the Cyclones because Brett was better than him. But that probably wouldn’t sound as inspiring. Not that anything he was saying sounded inspiring. Then again, Stiles stopped processing Jackson’s words five minutes after he started talking. It’s going to be his last game anyway, and while winning would be nice, losing isn’t going to cause him to jump off a cliff.

Stiles isn’t so sure about Jackson.

“Has he always been like that?”

Glancing at Jackson out of the corner of his eye, Stiles shakes his head. “Coach used to be the only one talking,” he whispers back as quietly as possible. The last thing he wants is Jackson to be pissed at him because he’s disrespectful to lacrosse. “He pumped everyone up on the field.”

Kira hums and turns her head enough to watch Jackson walk back and forth in front of their only exit. The one good thing about this is that they don’t have to suffer through Coach’s speech as well because he’s currently talking to the media together with the Devenford Prep coach. That’s most likely a complete disaster, but Stiles would pay good money to watch that instead of having to listen to Jackson for a minute longer. Brett’s speech probably didn’t even last a whole minute.

Stiles regrets having agreed to this. This speech is torture. Lacrosse was cool in the beginning. Now it’s a drag and usually riddled with werewolves on the loose, people trying to kill you, and other disasters. With how horribly the past few weeks have been going, it’ll be a miracle if this night doesn’t go wrong. Plus, there’s no doubt that Jackson and Brett will be fighting hard and dirty — and Stiles is smack in the middle of that.

How does he get himself into these situations?

Someone cheers. It takes hardly a second for most of the others to join in. Stiles can’t tell if they’re relieved Jackson is finally done or if they were all more invested in his speech than he thought. Either way, those have been the longest thirty minutes of his life. They’re free. They’re finally free.

Stiles grabs his bag and lacrosse stick and heads out of the door before Jackson can find something else to drone on about.. He needs fresh air and his sanity back.

Kira catches up to him fairly quickly. “I meant to tell you something,” she announces, fiddling with the strap of her bag for a moment before looping her arm through his. It’s a very Lydia thing to do, and it catches Stiles off guard for a moment. “Mom and Satomi came to watch.”

“To watch the game or me?”

She glances at him almost shyly, her grip on him tightening gently. “Both, I think.”

Stiles purses his lips, trying not to get angry at Kira. She isn’t really at fault, after all. “The last time your mom paid so much attention to me, I was possessed.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s still weird.” And very disconcerting. He’s not usually bothered by people watching him during a lacrosse game because there’s so much else going on, but knowing that Noshiko and Satomi are there as well, ready to intervene if something goes wrong… it makes him anxious. More than he likes to admit. For the first time today, Stiles can’t wait for the game to start, so he forgets what’s going on around him.

Kira grimaces a little, but her smile comes back almost immediately. “They mean well.”

Rubbing his left eyebrow, Stiles sighs. “It’s just… there’s nothing to worry about. I’m in perfect control. Well, not perfect. That’s a bit much, but, you know, I’m damn near perfect. I feel… balanced, I guess.” That’s as close as it gets. Either way, Stiles hasn’t felt this in tune with himself since the nemeton chose to use him as a host. Which Stiles still isn’t fully on board with, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. “I wouldn’t be playing if I didn’t think I was in control.” Jackson could’ve nagged him as much as he wanted to. He bites the inside of his cheek and swallows. “I wish you wouldn’t have told me. As if the lacrosse game isn’t stressful enough already.”

“Because they usually end in blood and a lot of screaming?” Isaac appears in front of him, carrying his lacrosse stick over his shoulders. He’s grinning from ear to ear. Although Stiles is well aware that Isaac plays for Devenford now, seeing him wear green is hard to get used to.

Brett catches up to them, falling into step next to Stiles. “Last time I played against you, I almost got killed.”

“I was almost cut in half with a sword once.” Isaac sighs and turns around, walking in front of them. “Good times.”

Kira grimaces.

Brett barks out a laugh.

“You’re not fucking helping,” Stiles mutters. Not that anything would help, if he’s totally honest. This lacrosse game is turning his stomach upside down. It was easy to ignore, zoning out with Jackson’s ramblings in the background, but now that they’re on the way to the field, things become a lot more real. There’s so much that could go wrong. The Dread Doctors are still kicking. Since they’ve been in hiding, it’s unlikely they’re going to come themselves, but it’s a potential risk. However, it’s much more likely that they’ll create another beast or another chimera that could potentially go on a rampage. And then there’s Donovan.

Sighing dramatically, Brett props an arm on Stiles’ shoulder. “Take a deep breath. Relax. Tonight’s gonna be okay. It’s just a lacrosse game.” Just a lacrosse game . That’s coming from the guy who mentioned that he almost got killed not even a minute ago. It also shows that Brett has been — or still is — unaware of everything that went on in Beacon Hills prior to said lacrosse game. Satomi probably made sure of that. Which sucks. They could’ve used the help of another werewolf pack on multiple occasions. Still, Stiles does understand the decision. After all, she’s the alpha, and she needs to put her pack first.

“Last time, it was just a party,” Stiles shrugs Brett’s arm off.

Brett shifts in front of him, stopping Kira and Stiles in their tracks. “You can’t be worried about everything all the time.”

“This—” he gestures wildly in the direction of the field, of the people going towards the stands, of the reporters and cameramen standing in front of their vans “— is a lacrosse game. I’d be a moron if I weren’t at least a little worried.” There are so many people here, more than there’d be during a normal game. If this goes wrong… he doesn’t even want to think about it. This could end in a complete bloodbath.

Brett puts his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. It doesn’t have the calming effect it’s supposed to have. “You gotta take a deep breath. We’re all here.” He gestures in Isaac’s direction, who grins way too cheerily for the current situation. How can they all be so fucking positive? “If something happens, we’ll deal with it.” Brett sounds reassuring, but it doesn’t really matter. The guy could promise him top security, and it wouldn’t help. Not even a little bit. “If you keep that up, you’ll die because of stress before you make it to college.” Quirking a brow, Brett pats his shoulders and straightens again.

“Hilarious.” Stiles rubs a hand over his face and sighs.

Rolling his eyes, Brett folds his arms over his chest. “The word optimism really doesn’t exist in your vocabulary, does it?”

Isaac snorts out a laugh. “That should be a given.”

“It’s called survival instinct.” Stiles is so done with this conversation. For once in his life, he would like to be taken seriously from the get-go, yet people still think he’s freaking out over nothing. Brett and Isaac almost died in two different lacrosse games. People keep getting hurt. There’s always something happening. This being a charity game isn’t suddenly changing the fact that something terrible could happen. It’s not a safe thing to do, and he would prefer it if people were a bit more attentive to their surroundings instead of trying to calm him down. It’s not like he’s crying wolf all the goddamn time. More often than not, he’s very much right about his hunches.

And Lydia was acting off as well. That’s usually not a good sign either.

Brett runs his fingers through his hair, glancing over his shoulder as someone from his team calls his name. He waves a hand then turns his attention back to Stiles. “Enlighten me,” he says, folding his arms again, “what do you think is gonna happen?”

“If I knew that, I would be able to stop it and hence not be this fucking worried.” Stiles isn’t made for stress. Not even a little bit. He should be kept away from stress — especially from stressors that don’t really have a source.

Kira squeezes his wrist. “Maybe it’s just the media attention and the charity game.”

Drawing his eyebrows together, Stiles studies her face for a little while. The thing is, she isn’t entirely wrong. He could be stressed out because Jackson gave him an important job in this game; one he doesn’t want to fail regardless of his feelings for lacrosse or Jackson’s obsessive behavior. He’d love to be useful in a lacrosse game again like he was back in his sophomore year. Maybe it’s the media attention that’s making things worse. He’s first line. He’s probably going to be directly involved at the beginning of the game, facing off against Brett. It’s a lot of pressure that doesn’t get any easier with all that attention.

Stiles lets out a breath. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Isaac throws his hands in the air, looking slightly offended. “You believe her ?”

“Foxes have to stick together.” Kira grins up at Stiles and steps a little closer to him.

Brett grimaces. This guy really has an issue with kitsunes. Considering who he was raised by, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but at this point, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if it’s either an instinct that’s hard to suppress or if a kitsune broke his poor little heart. Either way, it’s ridiculous behavior. Sure, Brett explained that it’s a thing , but it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Stiles doesn’t feel any resentment towards werewolves all of a sudden, and he doesn’t remember the nogitsune being particularly aggressive against werewolves over other supernaturals. But even if Stiles and the nogitsune shouldn’t count, there’s still Kira. She’s not at all bothered by them.

“Mate, we gotta go.” Isaac points in the direction of the field. Their coach is beckoning them to get a move on with two quick movements of his hand.

Brett nods at them. “See you on the field.”

Rubbing his left eyebrow, Stiles watches them retreat before turning to Kira. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

Kira tilts her head to the side and smiles. “I think it’s your nerves talking. This is a big game, and there are a lot of cameras.” Now, she grimaces as well. Yeah, the media isn’t helping the overall situation at all. Hopefully, nobody tries to take any pictures with the flash on. They can only explain so many malfunctions.

“I really hope you’re right.”

----------

Calling him a bundle of nerves is an understatement at this point. They’re minutes away from the start of the game, his hands are clammy, blood is pounding in his ears, and the only thing keeping him from tucking tail and running home is Kira’s constant presence at his side. She’s gripping his arm, either because she can tell Stiles might do something funny or because she’s worried Scott might drag her off to talk to her again. Whatever it is, Stiles is strangely thankful for her fingers digging into his upper arm. The touch keeps him grounded for more than one reason.

While Coach is talking, Stiles searches for Theo in the stands. He finds him rather quickly, sitting between Lydia and his dad — a sight Stiles really needs to get used to — near the bench, already looking back at him. His chimeras are sitting in the next row. Tracy has found her spot right behind Theo, who is either oblivious to her presence or ignores her for the sake of peace. Neither is likely, but as long as she isn’t trying anything, Stiles doesn’t have to figure out just how good his aim is ever since he became a chimera himself. His nerves are frayed enough that he might shoot a ball at her head, and Theo hopefully knows better than to stop it. Then again, he is her alpha and kind of required to protect her.

Theo crosses his arms over his thighs and smirks at him. The familiar calms Stiles’ nerves much more efficiently than anything else people tried to tonight. Although that’s probably the last time Theo is going to smirk for the remainder of the night. He won’t be thrilled that Stiles will have to keep his attention on Brett for sixty minutes straight. It’s going to ruffle his feathers eventually, even though Stiles made it abundantly clear that he will definitely not listen to Jackson and try to distract Brett via flirting. For multiple reasons, and Theo is the main one. Besides, it’s not like Brett would actually fall for it. Distracting the guy is going to be much harder than that. He can’t wait for this game to be over.

His team erupts into cheers.

“Stiles!” Jackson yells because, of course, he does. It’s not like they’ve been over tonight’s plans a million times already.

Stiles smiles at Theo before being vigorously interrupted by Jackson snapping his fingers in front of his face. Pursing his lips, Stiles shoots him a glare. “What?”

Jackson throws his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and starts walking, forcing Kira to unclench her fingers from his bicep. Considering the throbbing he now feels, Stiles is pretty sure she used a bit more than just human strength. Talk about being nervous. He isn’t the only one who’s feeling anxious about the game.

“I talked to Coach,” Jackson says in a low voice, “you’re starting the game.”

Stiles never thought four little words could make him even more nervous than he’s already been — especially since he did kind of expect it. Jackson already mentioned that he wants Stiles to be a pain in Brett’s ass at all times. That does include facing off against him. However, he really, really thought that Jackson would want to go up against him at the start of the game considering that he’s the captain, and this is a charity event with a lot of media present. “I don’t—”

“I don’t care,” Jackson interrupts him, “if you get the ball or not. Just don’t let him score.”

Stiles shakes his head. “You’re the captain. You should—”

“No, we think it’s best to throw them off their game as early as possible.”

“Okay, but—”

Jackson lets go of his shoulder and reaches for Stiles’ lacrosse gear. “Kira is covering Isaac. We’ll take care of the rest.” He pushes his helmet against Stiles’ chest, narrowing his eyes. “I came here to win. That means you get your ass on that field and do whatever it takes to fuck up Talbot’s game.”

“Jacks—”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Jackson warns, taking matters into his own hands and putting the helmet on Stiles’ head. “I don’t care what your boyfriend thinks about that — flirt with him, talk his ear off, whatever.” He holds out one of Stiles’ gloves, and almost on autopilot, Stiles offers his hand. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the second. “Take one for the team, alright? This is important.”

Catching Theo’s eye again, Stiles nods absentmindedly. Right, right. Important.

The referee whistles, and Stiles is pretty sure his stomach just plummeted through the ground. Oh god . He’s never started off a game, much less one with so many cameras. He’s hardly been first line. This shouldn’t be happening.

Jackson tightens Stiles’ second glove then pushes the lacrosse stick against his chest. “You got this, Stilinski.” Those are the first encouraging words Jackson has said to him since this whole escapade started. It’s a bit late for that, to be honest, and pushing him onto the field is very counterproductive.

Stiles swallows, glancing over his shoulder at Kira. She nods at him. Foxes have to stick together. He lets his gaze wander. Theo leans forward. His dad rubs his hands together. Lydia straightens her position. Scott sits on the bench, rolling his lacrosse stick between his hands.

Okay , let's do this.

Stiles takes a deep breath, tugs at his helmet, and walks towards the middle of the field. Brett and the referee are standing there already. Maybe that’s what he should focus on. No media. No charity. This is just a normal game — as normal as it gets in Beacon Hills. Stiles twists the lacrosse stick, tightening and loosening his grip. He’s still not entirely confident that this is a good idea, but he’s gone through worse. He’s gone through so much worse.

“This is unexpected,” Brett says, crouching down in front of the line.

Taking another deep breath, Stiles follows his example. “Tell me about it.” Although he’s faced off against people before, he can’t shake the feeling that this was so much more important; and now that he’s crouching here, Stiles is surprised by his sudden lack of nerves. Instead, he feels a rush of excitement, just like he did during the game in his sophomore year. As much as he’s annoyed by this lacrosse obsession, it can be a fun game.

Maybe, just maybe, tonight won’t end in a complete disaster.

“I know you’re supposed to annoy me,” Brett says, glancing up at the referee who keeps checking his watch. “Didn’t think Whittemore would pass up on the first face-off of the game.”

Stiles shifts into a better position. “He probably knows I can take you.” Although Stiles isn’t entirely sure where this confidence is coming from, he’s not going to complain. If he wants to have a shot against Brett, he needs to have a bit of confidence. Throwing in the towel before the game starts is not going to help anybody. Stiles tries his best to believe that Brett and Isaac are right and that it’s just a game. It would be the best option for everyone involved. Plus, they deserve a bit of rest before shit inevitably hits the fan again.

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

“It’s about time someone knocks you off that high horse of yours.”

Brett chuckles. “Confident words for someone who spends 90% of their time on the bench.”

To be fair, that’s a pretty good point. However, this might very well work to his advantage. Stiles isn’t terrible at lacrosse. That’s something he realized after overcoming his crippling self-doubts in sophomore year. He just never cared enough about lacrosse to put in enough work to be first line permanently. He’s not nearly good enough to beat Brett when push comes to shove, but he’s got a few tricks up his sleeve, and he’s attentive enough to use everything to his advantage — even the little things.

Like the referee nodding to himself but not lowering his arm quite yet. Just a few more seconds until the game starts.

“I’m faster than you.”

Brett scoffs. “Speed isn’t everything.”

For a moment, Stiles doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks in the direction of the stands, spotting Lydia at the edge of her seat. He can’t see her face properly, but she’s playing with her ponytail. Theo sits perfectly straight, arms folded over his chest. He doesn’t need to be close to know his knuckles are white — or to know that he’s listening to every word Stiles and Brett are exchanging. Sighing, Stiles turns back to Brett, who studies him with his eyebrows drawn together.

Gotcha.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” The referee blows his whistle, and Stiles snatches the ball right from underneath Brett’s nose. Somewhere behind him, Jackson lets out a triumphant yell. Stiles dashes past Brett, who’s letting out a string of curses before turning on his heels. Despite the surprise — because even though Stiles isn’t the worst at lacrosse, nobody expected him to outplay Devenford’s golden boy — the defense is already assembling in front of him. He might be able to push past, but Stiles needs a bit more time to watch how they play before trying anything. With Brett right behind him, he doesn’t really have that time.

He passes the ball to Kira instead, who has gotten past Isaac without a problem. Weirdly enough, Stiles hadn’t really seen her before he passed the ball. He just knew she was there. Like an instinct. He wonders if that’s a kitsune or a Stiles thing. Either way, she catches the ball with ease, dodges the surprised defense player in front of her, and scores the first goal of the match.

The people on the left bleachers erupt in loud cheers. Lydia has jumped to her feet, all her nervous energy seemingly gone as she throws her hands in the air in triumph. Even Theo, albeit less ecstatic, stands up and claps.

Stiles grins at Kira, who’s jogging towards him for a high five.

“That trick’s only gonna work once, you know?” Brett walks past him. Something about the look in his eyes tells Stiles that he’s excited about what’s to come. “I’m a fast learner.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh. “Oh, there’s more where that came from.” Still grinning, Stiles starts walking backward. “I’m a trickster after all.” And he has absolutely no clue how else he could win a face-off against Brett ever again. But hey, it’s lacrosse. Being overly confident is part of the game.

Brett points his stick at him, then jogs over to Isaac.

“Looks like we’ve just found ourselves a couple of enemies.”

Kira tugs at her helmet. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to lose against a pair of wolves.”

“Okay.” Stiles can’t help but feel absolutely thrilled all of a sudden. There’s something about Kira’s enthusiasm that’s incredibly contagious. “Let’s do this.”

----------

Devenford’s team hardly needs any time to adapt. Stiles isn’t particularly surprised when he and Kira are confronted with another player who tries their best to make sure that Isaac and especially Brett can roam free. It’s a struggle because now Stiles’ attention is torn between keeping an eye on Brett and not running face first into another player who suddenly appears in his way. He may be faster than them, but in the time it takes Stiles to get around or away from the other player, Brett has taken the chance to break free — and no matter how fast Stiles is, Brett only needs seconds to get the ball and make a huge difference in the immediate course of the game. His experience makes it even harder.

Stiles now understands why he said that speed isn’t everything. Because it’s really not. As often as Stiles manages to catch up to him and block his path, Brett still gets around him and finds a chance to pass the ball. As unsurprising as it is — after all, Stiles told Jackson that taking Brett out of the game wouldn’t be enough — it’s annoying. He really thought he could do a bit more. But Devenford is already leading with four goals. If they let them get ahead much further, they won’t be able to lose with dignity; if that was even an option to begin with.

It’s honestly not very likely.

Stiles lets out a breath. “Jackson!”

“I know!” Jackson snaps, brushing past him as if it’s somehow Stiles’ fault that Devenford immediately reacted. He warned him about not focusing on Brett alone. After all, Devenford isn’t the best team because of a single fucking player. Jackson’s thirst for vengeance is going to be the thing that’ll bring him to his knees.

“We gotta change our strategy.” Stiles tosses his lacrosse stick from his right to his left hand, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Taking Brett out of the game isn’t enough.” To be fair, Stiles isn’t entirely sure why he tries to convince Jackson yet again since he ignored him multiple times before. Maybe because he hopes that actually seeing that Stiles is correct will finally change his mind.

Jackson shakes his head. “We still have a shot,” he says in a low voice as they return to the center of the field. “You and Kira keep doing what you’re doing. We’re dealing with the rest.” His jaw is set in a way that tells Stiles there’s no arguing with that decision. Jackson is just as stubborn as Theo, maybe worse, so Stiles isn’t even going to try to discuss this any further.

“You’re the captain,” he mutters, glancing in the direction of the stands. Theo stands out like a sore thumb. He’s not moving at all. Stiles can’t blame him. After all, Theo is neither a fan of school activities nor a fan of Stiles’ role in all of this. At this point, Stiles agrees. But probably not for the same reason Theo does. It’s just that his role is pointless. They have to change their tactics. Devenford Prep already adapted to this. Theo’s merely bothered because it’s Brett. If he needed to take care of Isaac, Theo would probably look a lot less murderous.

Stiles turns away and focuses on the game again. A moment later, the referee blows his whistle. Jackson wins the faceoff. Immediately, Stiles dashes forward. They’re rushing to the other end of the field for the first time in four goals. The shift of energy is noticeable. They all want to win, no matter how impossible it might be. There’s still that small hope.

Or maybe it’s desperation.

Without warning, Brett appears right in front of him, effectively cutting him off. Stiles is forced to come to an abrupt stop. “Fuck.” He barely manages to keep his footing under control. He was so focused on Jackson, and nothing but Jackson, that he didn’t even think to watch out for anything else. Plus, Stiles isn’t exactly used to people paying him any mind on the lacrosse field.

By the looks of it, Kira suffers the same fate. She’s currently trying to get around Isaac, who seems to be having the time of his life annoying her.

Stiles narrows his eyes and takes a step back. He’s not going to get around him when he’s up close.

“Whittemore is the first wolf in history to send a fox to fight his own battle,” Brett says, smoothly moving with him to make it impossibly hard to get past him. “It’s pathetic, really.”

This is ridiculous. Stiles rolls his eyes. “Could you be any more of a werewolf cliche?” Stiles is already faster than almost everyone on this fucking field, and yet he’s not fast enough for this game. He never really needed to break free from a situation, and Brett is probably the worst person to learn from in a moment of crisis.

Cheers erupt, and the game changes faster than Stiles can react.

Brett breaks free and catches the ball without a problem.

“Fuck.” Stiles turns on his heels and follows Brett. It’s easy to break his cover. Way too easy. He can’t run too fast, but he has to run fast enough to catch up to him, or he’s never going to hear the end of it. Jackson isn’t going to care about cheating or not cheating. He wants Stiles to do whatever it takes to bring Brett down. So, Stiles will do whatever he needs to do as long as it goes hand in hand with his conscience. He doesn’t want to be that jerk who uses supernatural advantages to get ahead — especially not if the supernatural creature he’s playing against doesn’t do it either. That makes the whole lacrosse thing even harder than it already is. Lacrosse isn’t his forte. Running, however, is. He’s been good at running since a young age, and running with — and from — werewolves certainly helped.

Stiles catches up to Brett, pushing himself just a little further to cut his way off before he gets too close to the goal or gets a chance to shoot.

Cursing quietly, Brett turns around and passes the ball. It really seems that they’re both managing to stop each other more or less effectively. Although stopping him alone clearly isn’t enough, that’s at least something. In fact, it’s enough to keep Jackson from complaining after the game. “You’re really starting to annoy me, Foxie.”

“Call me Foxie again, and you’re gonna regret it.” Stiles turns enough so that he can keep an eye on Brett and see what’s going on way too close to their goal.

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

Liam and Jackson are doing their best to support their defense. No matter his feeling about Gabe, he’s missing in this game. He’s the only good defensive player they’ve got.

Kira rushes to their aide, ignoring whatever Jackson is barking her way, and stops someone from having a clean shot just in time.

“I think they need you.”

“Na, they’re fine.” Stiles spots one of Brett’s teammates glancing their way. He narrows his eyes and shifts a bit closer, tightening his grip around his lacrosse stick.

Brett huffs out a breath. “We’re gonna win, no matter how much you’re clinging to me.”

“Duh.” Stiles isn’t doubting that, but at this point, Brett isn’t the problem. He’s just the worst of the team. But, all in all, the team is a team. They know each other inside and out. They’re a single unit. It’s not enough to take out one or two of them. The trick is to get in their heads and ruin whatever they have planned. That’s how they got that first goal. They did something unexpected. They thought outside the box. Devenford Prep always adapts, but there’s a small span of time in which they’re off-kilter. If they use that, they could at least push back.

And Brett’s buddy is planning something for sure.

“But,” Stiles says, moving to the right when Brett shifts left, “I can make it harder for you.” It’s a gamble. It’s a giant fucking gamble, and Jackson is going to lose his shit if he’s wrong.

But he’s not.

Brett corrects his course almost immediately, cursing. The seconds he wanted to get by leading Stiles in the wrong direction are lost. Stiles intercepts the pass without a problem and dashes in the opposite direction.

Lydia cheers louder than everyone else.

Adrenaline kicks in and Stiles reminds himself to keep his eyes on the prize. Focus. He just needs to focus on the goal, on what he needs to do. He’s done it before. He can do this. No need to be nervous, and yet, he can’t help himself. A sudden surge of nerves catches him. He’s alone here. Kira might just need another second until she’s caught up, and that second might be everything Devenford needs to stop him.

Someone appears behind the goal. The person is standing at the edge of the shadows. They’re obviously not here for the game. Despite staying mostly out of the light, Stiles thinks he can make out a guy. And is that a brown—

Isaac suddenly appears right in front of him.

“Fuck.”

Or not.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles spots Kira. He passes the ball and stumbles to a stop, trying his best not to crash into Isaac as he does so. This was the absolute worst moment to be distracted by someone off the field. Right. Brown jacket. A light brown jacket. Swallowing, Stiles looks back in the direction he saw the guy, but the spot behind Devenford’s goal is empty. Great. It wouldn’t be the first time he freaked out about potentially seeing someone.

“Graceful as a newborn giraffe as per usual.” Isaac has turned away from the game, not at all concerned about what’s going on behind his back. “You good? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

But last time, he was right about Donovan.

Cheers erupt, and Stiles whips his head around. Kira has scored a goal. She actually did it. Perfect. Maybe that means Jackson isn’t going to be all that mad about Stiles almost messing up. It’s just that he could’ve sworn… No. No, it probably wasn’t anything. Well, nothing but his nerves. He’s been freaking out the whole day about something bad going down; it wouldn’t be surprising if he’s now making a mountain out of a molehill.

Unless he isn’t.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. Calm down.

“I’m fine.” There’s no way Donovan would come to a lacrosse game — especially not one as packed as this one. Multiple media vans. More visitors than usual. Even some security. Just in case. Stiles isn’t entirely sure if his dad called in the reinforcements because Stiles made him nervous as well or because this is a charity game. “I’m fine,” he repeats, glancing at Isaac before retreating back to his side of the field.

Jackson is already waiting for him. “Why didn’t you dodge him earlier?” He gestures vaguely in the direction Isaac’s standing in.

“I didn’t see him.” Stiles glances at him, stomach twisting uncomfortably. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not even a little bit, but Jackson has never been someone who just drops a conversation, especially one that annoys him as much as terrible lacrosse plays.

“He was basically right in front of you.”

“Jackson,” Stiles says, stopping in his tracks and narrowing his eyes. “I didn’t see him.” He didn’t see Donovan. This isn’t happening again. This cannot be happening again. Donovan won’t be this stupid. He simply can’t be. Stiles refuses to believe that. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” Stiles pushes his helmet down and jogs to the middle of the field without another glance at Jackson.

Brett is already waiting for him, crouching on his side of the field. “He’s right, you know? You ran right into that.”

Stiles presses his lips into a thin line and crouches down, eyes focused on the ball. “Are you trying to tell me it’s my fault I was fouled?” He clenches and unclenches his fingers around the stick. The other face-offs were easier to get through, but now he feels restless, now he has the urge to run. Just the thought of Donovan potentially being here, no matter how ridiculous it seems, sets his fight or flight instincts in motion. He wants to run and hide.

“No.” Brett is eerily still, and the referee continues to remain silent. “I’m just saying that you’re better than that.”

The referee saves him from answering. No matter how fidgety he is, Brett is faster than him. Stiles whips around, grinding his teeth, and rushes after him. It looks like he’s done playing. To be honest, it took him much longer than Stiles expected. Their coach probably used the timeout to make abundantly clear that Devenford Prep is not to lose against one of the worst teams this season. It’s still a miracle that they were chosen to do the charity game in the first place.

Stiles catches up to Brett. That’s not the problem, it’s never been the problem. It’s the running past him, the stopping him before he becomes too dangerous. Stiles pushes himself further. He needs to be just a little bit faster. But before he can stop him, the ball is zooming across the field. Isaac catches it. Without further hesitation, Isaac uses the second it takes Kira to react and shoots. Danny almost makes it.

Fuck.

The game gets hectic after that. Tension has been there from the beginning, but something seems to have caused the players on the field to snap, to push themselves farther. It’s faster. More ruthless. Brett causes Stiles more trouble than he did in the beginning, and Stiles hates it. He doesn’t know if Brett went easy on him initially or if spotting someone who looks like Donovan out of the corner of his eye makes him much more inattentive.

Stiles needs to focus again, but his instincts are still kicking up. Sticking with Kira helps, and they manage to wreak havoc inside the Devenford Prep defense — enough that Jackson, Kira, Liam, and he are able to shrink their lead to just two goals.

At least for a little while.

All it takes is a single timeout to turn the game completely around. Devenford brings on two new players, and although Liam doesn’t know them, they certainly know what they were doing from the get-go. Stiles has no clue why they aren’t first line because they’re much better than the two guys they are replacing. Something everyone on the field quickly notices.

And they gave Brett and Isaac more time to take out the key player of each attack. More than once, Stiles found himself cut off by both of them, forcing him to pass back to someone in a less fortunate position on the field. That gave the defense enough time to make it three times as hard to have a clear shot.

Five minutes before half-time, Devenford leads with six goals — soon to be seven, by the looks of it. Liam lost his face-off against one of the new players on the field. Stiles runs back a bit, just enough that he’s somewhere in front of their defense in an attempt to stop Brett, whose impatience to shoot another goal is clear as day to everyone. He’s not the best player on the field today. Isaac snatched that title away from him.

At least for now.

Stiles shifts into a better position, scanning the field for the ball. That’s when he spots someone in-between the bleachers. It’s exactly the same thing. Their face and upper body are mostly obstructed by shadows. They don’t move. No, he doesn’t move. It’s definitely a guy. And he’s just standing there as if he knows that Stiles has spotted him.

Something green rushes past him.

Stiles blinks. The person is gone.

“Stilinski!” And Jackson clearly lost his patience. Fuck. What is it with this guy? Why is Donovan such a trigger for him? Just the thought of him makes his heart race and his chest constrict. “What the fuck?” Jackson grabs his upper arm and spins him around, eyes narrowed. Someone is positively pissed off. Stiles can’t even really blame him. First, he failed to shoot a goal, and now, he failed to stop Brett. And for what? For thinking he’s seeing someone who might not even be there.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“You can shove your sorry where the sun doesn’t shine,” Jackson snaps, hooking a finger around the front of Stiles’ helmet, and yanks his head close. “Whatever your problem is ge—”

Stiles shoves Jackson’s arm away. “How about you calm down?”

“Calm down?”

“Yes, calm the fuck down.” Stiles jabs a finger against Jackson’s chest. “I didn’t even want to play, okay? I’m doing this right now because you asked me to. So stop yelling at me, or find someone else to deal with Brett.”

Jackson draws his eyebrows together and grabs Stiles by his shoulder. “Okay. You and I are going to have a timeout.” And with that, Jackson simply pushes him in the direction of the bench before jogging off to the referee.

Stiles decides not to argue with him. There’s no point in trying to get through Jackson’s thick skull. Maybe having a timeout isn’t the worst idea. Maybe Stiles really needs to take a breather, drink something, and sort out his thoughts. The game is stressful. Jackson is pushing all of them a lot harder than they’re strictly used to, there’s media coverage, and then there’s Lydia acting weird. All of this isn’t the best environment for someone who had a panic attack only a day ago.

With a sigh, Stiles throws his helmet to the ground. He presses his right hand to his face and takes a deep breath. He has a minute to get his head back into the game, or Jackson will be unbearable for the better part of the near future.

Scott is looking up at him. That and the sound of his lacrosse stick knocking against the bench doesn't exactly help calming him down.

“What’s going on?” Theo grabs the water bottle from Stiles' bag and offers it to him with a frown.

Stiles lets out a breath. “I’m fine.” Although the way Theo is curling his lips is a clear indicator that he neither buys nor wants to hear Stiles' bullshit, Stiles can't help but feel calmer already. Strangely enough, even an annoyed Theo is a comforting one. Probably because part of him refuses to believe that anything bad could happen to him if Theo is right next to him.

“That wasn’t the question,” Jackson says, grabbing Stiles by his upper arm yet again, and pulls him a bit away from their team. Oh, great, now he can deal with Theo and Jackson at the same time. One is overly worried about winning lacrosse, and the other is overly worried about him. This is going to be more exhausting than the whole game has been so far. When he deems them far enough away from the group, Jackson steps around him and in front of him. Theo taps his finger against the water bottle to his right.

Stiles glances in Lydia’s direction, who tugs at her hair and keeps staring at the field.

That’s odd.

Jackson snaps his fingers in front of Stiles’ face. “Why do you keep freezing in the middle of the field?”

Stiles looks from Jackson to Theo and back again. “What is this? An inquisition?”

They both fold their arms over their chests. Theo narrows his eyes. “I heard what Isaac said.” Of course, he did. Because apparently, people with supernatural hearing think it’s perfectly fine to eavesdrop. “About you looking as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Running a hand through his hair, Stiles glances back in Lydia’s direction. She’s watching him now, eyebrows raised inquiringly. Theo obviously didn’t tell her why he left his seat. He offers her a more or less convincing smile then turns to look at Theo and Jackson again. They both wear a very similar expression, which is telling Stiles that he shouldn’t try to convince them everything’s fine and dandy. He massages the nape of his neck. “I thought I saw Donovan.”

“Donovan,” Theo echoes, raising a brow.

Jackson glances at Theo then back at Stiles. “Isn’t that the dude who tried to kill you?”

Well, technically, Donovan didn't try to kill him. His plan was to severely injure and kidnap him. Not that it makes any difference at that point. Even if the Dread Doctors need him alive, Stiles doubts he'll be doing much that can be considered as living. “Yeah.”

“Why would he be here?”

That’s a good question. Why would he be here? Why did he come to that party? To get him. To kidnap him. But a party is entirely different to a charity game that’s surrounded by the media. After having operated in the shadows for so long, would the Dread Doctors really send Donovan after him now ? It doesn’t make sense. But maybe he just wants to fuck with him. Stiles wouldn’t put it past him. “I don’t know,” he says, rubbing his right eyebrow.

Theo taps a finger against his upper arm. “Are you sure you saw him?”

“I don’t know.” Probably not, but what if? Stiles bites on the inside of his cheek and looks around. Nobody is standing behind the goal, and nobody is standing between the stands. He might be on the stands, but Stiles doesn’t remember seeing anybody with a light brown jacket. Then again, he didn’t look. Why would he look? He was worried about the Dread Doctors messing shit up, and now it might be his very own head that’s screwing him over.

Unless it’s not.

Jackson rolls his shoulders with an impatient sigh. “I don't have time for this," he mutters, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Are you serious?" Theo narrows his eyes at Jackson and curls his hands into fists at his sides.

It's such a Jackson thing to say, Stiles can't even be mad at him. "Well, I'm sorry that someone coming after me is getting in the way of your game against Devenford."

Drawing his eyebrows together, Jackson looks from the field back at him. "What are you on about?" He looks genuinely confused before turning to Theo. "And why are you growling at me?" The guy has the self-awareness of a rotten tomato. "I'm trying to figure out how to keep your boyfriend safe, so calm it, Raeken."

Stiles quirks a brow.

"I could bring in McCall." Jackson nudges his jaw with his knuckles, contemplating his options. "Although I guess you'd be safest on the field anyway." He tips his head, studying something in the distance as he absentmindedly keeps running his knuckles along his jaw. Then his eyes snap back to Stiles. "If you wanna keep playing that is."

Stiles stares at him for a moment. “What?” he asks, squinting at Jackson. Not to paint him as an asshole, but after all his speeches, extra practices, and his general lacrosse obsession, it's almost bizarre to see him putting the game on the back-burner.

More or less.

Theo tilts his head to the side, studying Jackson’s profile no less confused.

Impatiently, Jackson waves a hand around. “If you decide to keep playing, all I'm asking you is that you try to hold your focus on Talbot.”

Theo purses his lips. He takes a visibly deep breath through his nose before returning his attention to Stiles. “We can go look for him.” He nods in the direction of his pack. Although it would probably relax Stiles, sending them off to go looking for Donovan doesn’t feel like a very good idea. As a wendigo, he’s already stronger than the usual werewolves, but they don’t know what else he is capable of since the Dread Doctors resurrected him. He doesn’t want to put them in danger.

“It’s gonna be fine. It’s almost half-time anyway.” And then he can try and tap into the ley lines. Maybe that'll help calm his nerves enough for the second half of the game.

Jackson and Theo exchange a look. It almost seems as if something unspoken passes between them, but they don’t argue, and that’s probably the best outcome this conversation could’ve had.

----------

For a fast game like lacrosse, Stiles can’t help but feel like time is dragging on. They still have seven minutes to go. They hardly make it past Devenford’s defense after Brett and Isaac decide to work as an inseparable duo. The worst part about this is that they seem to find it hilarious to take Stiles out of the game even when he doesn’t have the ball. They’re either doing it because it gives Brett a chance to get the ball and a head start, or they’re simply doing it to annoy the hell out of Stiles. If the latter is the case, it’s fucking working — and Stiles hates it.

By keeping Kira and Stiles apart, they’re making it more than difficult for Jackson to build a useful attack, especially with Liam now supporting the defense. Stiles has no idea how to get through to their goal other than intercepting a pass and hoping for the best. Even Jackson doesn’t look as if he has any better ideas. But as easy as it sounds, interrupting a pass is exceptionally hard, especially when two infuriatingly smug werewolves have decided to annoy the hell out of him.

But maybe Stiles could use that to Kira and Jackson’s advantage. They have to do something because this is getting embarrassing. The media is here, this is a county-wide thing. Stiles knew they wouldn’t have a shot. He expected to lose, but not like this. It started so well, and now they’re sucking so bad. Which probably is on Stiles… at least partially.

Kira seems to have picked up rather quickly on what Stiles is doing when he twists away from her twice, and she has to work with Jackson. Although they hardly know each other and haven’t really played all that much, they make a good and fast team.

Three minutes before half-time, they have gotten a couple of goals in, and Brett and Isaac figured out that Stiles has been running them around the whole time. Brett is positively pissed, Isaac merely amused. Although he’s one of the best players from Devenford — and used to be for their team — he’s not obsessed with the game yet. Which is a relief. Stiles can’t handle another lacrosse maniac. Two are more than enough.

With the two off his tail, Stiles has a lot more chances to roam around the field. Not that it’s all that helpful. Devenford has practised so many different ways that they can adapt to new situations in seconds. As much as Stiles likes Coach, he hasn’t exactly been trying to prepare them for a lot of situations ever since Jackson and Danny left the team. Even less after he was shot by the arrow the nogitsune planted and then poisoned by one of the assassins. It’s hard to blame him for not really caring all that much. He’ll probably be glad once he can retire and doesn’t have to deal with any supernatural or student shenanigans any longer.

Stiles bounces on the balls of his feet, following the ball zooming across the field as Isaac and Number 16 rush towards their goal. They’re not planning to ease up on them, not even a little bit. But Stiles wouldn’t mind making a goal himself because as much as he helped during the game, Jackson, Kira, and Liam have shot the few goals that they have. Just one. One goal. That’s all he’s asking for. He spent so much time running, that he really wouldn’t mind if he contributed with a single goal.

And his time seems to be coming when Kira rushes off to annoy Isaac.

Stiles dashes forwards seconds before Isaac passes the ball back to his teammate. He’s pushing himself forward and snatches the ball out of the air. Yes. He grins, hearing Jackson cheer him on. Now, he’s going to do it. He can do this. This time he gets to shoot a goal. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kira catching up to him. She’s ready to wreak a bit of havoc with him. Perfect. If stealing the ball from them is the only way to push back, then that’s what they’re going to do.

Two defense players run towards him.

Stiles passes the ball to Kira, who catches it without a problem. The two players curse under their breath and course correct, trying to get to Kira as fast as possible. This is giving Stiles enough room to—

Out of nowhere, someone appears right in front of him. Stiles curses under his breath. Fucking again . But this time, he manages to dodge them. It happens so fast, Stiles doesn't catch the number on the jersey, but judging by their size, it's Brett. He grins. This time, they're going to make a— the lacrosse stick flashes in the bright light before it slams into him like a wrecking ball. Something cracks. He can feel it just before pain explodes in his left side.

Fuck .

#steo #steo fanfic #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #no place for promises #*tv:teen wolf #*w:npfp #*s:steo

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