#we are more than our bodies and the petty things that others poke at your appearance

[harrygoeswest]

Trigger Warnings: sweary sweary language, sexual content

Word count: 14,704

Chapters fifteen, sixteen & seventeen

eighteen

We had a few more drinks at The Swan before we called it a night, but at Harry’s house a raucous and carnal adventure began. It started in the hallway as soon as the door was closed, and reached its magnificent end on his sofa in the living room. We never stopped on our journey, even if we were not moving - the desire we had for one another just did not cease, a feat that used up every last ounce of energy until I was settled on top of him, his skin tacky and sticking to mine in every place it could find.

The room was hot, as were we, with every possible window opened to let in as much fresh air as we could, even though it was humid and uncomfortable. Somehow, it didn’t matter to me. I was blissfully unaware of the temperature and the state it brought my physical being to while I was with this man.

I was unabashedly staring at him, using my fingers to travel the lines of his beautiful face. He seemed content - he was looking at me with this tiny smile, his eyes moving over my own face while his fingers drew pictures on my naked back. I wasn’t paying attention to what he was drawing, nor did it even occur to me that I maybe should have been. If he was trying to play a silly little game, it was the last thing on my mind.

“Estoy obsesionada con tu cara.” I’m obsessed with your face, I whispered as my index finger brushed over his lips.

He seemed to take a deep breath, and his lips pulled upwards further. Around his exhale, he said, “No se que dijiste.” I don’t know what you said.

I pulled back a little, failing to hide my glee. “Muy bueno. ¿Quien te enseñó eso?”

Harry gave a small grunt. “Don’t push your luck.”

I giggled. “I said very good, where did you learn that?”

He gave an understanding hum. “That’s a secret. What did you say before that?”

“That’s also a secret.” I said, and pressed my lips tightly together.

“But now you’ve got two secrets and I’ve only got one.”

“Harry, los secretos no deberían ser como el dinero.”

He tipped his head with a frown.

“Secrets shouldn’t be used like money. It’s how problems start.”

He took another deep breath and nodded, stroking his hands up and down my back. “I see what you mean.”

“You do?”

“I do. Secrets can be transactional which, while when they’re little like ours can be irrelevant, it can also lead to trust issues and overreaction.”

“Right, yeah.” Why did he have to talk in riddles? “I think our secrets should be our own, and if one day we want to share them with each other we can, and if we don’t we shouldn’t have to.”

“Is this your way of cementing that you won’t ever tell me about the incident at the dentist?”

“Maybe.” I muttered. “But it also means you don’t have to tell me if you’re learning Spanish from a less reliable source than me.”

“What if it was your mother?”

“Then you’d be in good hands. Although I will admit I’d be jealous of you spending time with my mother over me.”

Harry cackled, squeezing my body tighter to his. “I have to admire your honesty, Floss.”

I watched him for a minute with a scrutinising look. “Is it my mother…?”

“No tienes que preocuparte.” You don’t need to worry, he said as he poked my nose, but he said it in such a way that made me suspicious it still could be my mother. 

“You need to work on your accent.” I said in rebuttal.

“So I’ve been told. Maybe that’s something you can help me with.”

“Or maybe you should just get a better teacher.”

He giggled, delighted by the sudden irritation in me. “I’m gonna tell your mum you said that.”

I gasped. “It is not my mum teaching you Spanish.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sé que nunca te dejaría hablar con un acento tan tonto como ese.” I know she would never let you speak with an accent as rubbish as that.

“Florence, don’t be petty.” He was still quite obviously entertained.

“Querido, no tienes idea de cómo soy cuando estoy siendo mezquina.” Darling, you have no idea what I’m like when I’m being petty.

He narrowed his gaze at me, still smirking, so I did the same back to him complete with chagrin. I then rested my head against his chest to avoid the imminent neck ache I could feel manifesting, and Harry smoothed his hand over my hair.

“You’re funny when you’re grumpy.” He said in a whisper.

“Now who’s pushing their luck?” 

He giggled, his chest vibrating beneath my head. I could hear his heartbeat thumping in my ear - it was calm but a little irregular, I assumed from the delight he took on at my irritation. Still, it was a nice thing to listen to. I could’ve fallen asleep right there and then.

“I like having you here.” Harry said suddenly, words spoken after an extended period of silence. “Like this.”

I took a deep breath, the hairs on my body suddenly standing on end. For some reason I couldn’t move.

“Bought this stupid big house ‘cause I wanted Oscar to have somewhere with a lot of space to grow up in, but it can be so lonely. When you said last week that you didn’t like being alone… I really resonated with that a lot. I felt seen. But not exposed, more like understood. I finally felt like someone related to the same feelings that I did - you managed to put it into words for me. And now for us to be able to do this, and for me to be able to have another person in the house, it just feels nice. It feels right.”

I shifted my head slightly so that I could see his face, and he looked down at me with a surprisingly ambivalent expression.

“Well, I’m glad I could help in some way. If you stop teasing me about my mother I might come over more often.”

“I’ll never tease you about anything ever again if you stay here with me next Friday as well?”

“I will come over every Friday until the end of time if you keep to your word, just… not next Friday.”

He pouted.

“Geri’s kind-of-but-not-really emergency girl's night?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighed. “Two weeks… that’s a long time to wait for you.”

“You’ve waited longer.”

“But it’s different now.” He whined. “I want you all the time.”

“Well… maybe we could have a lunch date in the week?”

He smirked. “Like a naughty lunch date?”

My mouth fell. “Is that all I am to you? A tool for your pleasure?”

“That’s not all you are to me. But I do rather enjoy it…”

I rolled my eyes. “Rather than thinking about when you don’t have me, why don’t you make the most of my company now?”

He nodded fervently. “I can do that.”

In the next breath his lips were on mine, and while I hadn’t meant him to take it quite so literally, I certainly wasn’t going to push him away. Not when I enjoyed drowning in him so much.

I don’t know how long we were like it - just kissing and groping like the world was close to ending -, but it was some time. I was wired up, fired up, and ready to be filled up. My core was sweating with anticipation and I was ready to take him the way we both really wanted to. I was on top of him now, his shaft between my legs but not inserted, and causing all kinds of problems to my state of mind.

“Fóllame de todas las formas posibles,” I was breathless and eager as I spoke, clinging to him with every limb I could.

“You’ve said that before.” He heaved into my mouth.

“I’ve also told you what it means.” I said against his lips, eating at them like an ice-cream.

“You might have to tell me again.”

You’d think with it being such a dirty phrase he might’ve retained the meaning, but apparently not. “F-,”

My phone began to ring from wherever I’d abandoned it when entering the house. I pulled away, a little startled, and looked towards the front door.

“Leave it.” Harry begged, his kisses moving down to my throat.

They made me delirious, and I was very close to ignoring the call to carry on with our salacious adventure. But I refrained.

“I can’t, what if it’s Ruby?”

Harry sighed, nodding as he dropped his head against my chest. “No, you’re right.”

I took hold of his face and pressed my lips to his, and then clambered off him to retrieve my phone from its hiding place. The stone floor in the kitchen was a shock to my bare feet.

I just missed the phone call, but it was from my parents’ home phone. I immediately called it back. Harry appeared just then wrapped up in a blanket, and wrapped it around me so that we were cocooned inside together. I laid my head on his chest again.

“Mummy?” Ruby answered on the second ring.

“Ruby?” I asked, looking at the time on my phone. It was nearly midnight. “What are you doing up so late, are you alright?”

“Mummy, I can’t sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, poppet. Where’s Grandma and Grandad?”

“They’re asleep. Grandma didn’t feel very well so she went to bed and Grandad looked really tired so we had to go early too and now I can’t sleep. But I don’t want to wake them up, not if Grandma isn’t very well.”

“That’s really good of you, Rubes, well done. But you really need to go back to bed and try to get some sleep. Can you do that for me?”

“I tried, Mummy, but I’m scared. Can’t you come and stay with me? I don’t want to be on my own.”

I took a deep breath and looked at Harry. He cocked his head at the sad expression on my face. “Yeah, I can come to you. I’ll be there really soon, alright? But you need to be in bed when I get there.”

Harry slowly nodded, apparently understanding what was happening.

“Okay, Mummy. Thank you.”

“No problem. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I put the phone down and sighed, resting my forehead against Harry’s chest.

“What’s the matter with her?” Harry asked softly.

“She can’t sleep, and it sounds like Mum and Dad are sick so I should probably go and keep her company.” I met his gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. She’s your baby - nothing more important than that.”

“We can definitely have that lunch date in the week to make up for it.”

Harry smiled. “You’ve got yourself a deal, señorita.”

I giggled and gave him a gentle kiss. 

“I’ll walk you down to the house.” He said against my mouth.

“You don’t have to do that, it’s not far.” I shook my head, pulling away and out of our little cocoon to collect my discarded clothes.

“I don’t care if it’s not far, it’s the middle of the night and I don’t want you out walking alone.”

I stared at him for a minute, a little taken aback by the sternness in his voice. “Okay.”

He nodded once and smiled. “Good.”

No more than ten minutes later, Harry and I had walked along the main road the short distance to my parents’ house on the square that wasn’t a square. We shared one last goodnight kiss before he left, and I let myself into the house as quietly as I could. 

Downstairs it was quiet and dark, although the shadows that lingered on the walls from my mother’s many trinkets and collectibles were still as creepy to me as an adult as they were when I was a child. I made my way upstairs, and the lamp in Ruby’s bedroom was turned on. She was in bed like I’d asked her to be, facing the door with her eyes wide open. Bongo was curled up fast asleep in his dog bed in the corner of the room. I shut the door behind me.

“Hola, querida.” I whispered.

“Hola, máma.” She replied in a quiet voice.

“¿Cómo estás?”

“No buena. My brain won’t go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry, poppet.” I sighed, stroking my hand over her soft hair. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t even know. I… I feel like everything is going to change and I don’t like it. I like things the way they are now - just me and you, and Grandma and Grandad and Bongo, and living here and doing the things we do together. I don’t want that to change.”

“Oh, baby. You don’t need to be scared - sometimes change can be a good thing. And I’m not saying that things are going to change. I certainly don’t intend on moving you away from here, or from your grandma and grandad. But take Oscar, for example. You didn’t see him coming and now he’s one of your best friends. That’s a change for good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… But Oscar is different. He hasn’t changed my life, not really. He’s just in it now, when he wasn’t before. I don’t want someone to come and ruin the way we do things. I want to keep it this way forever and ever.”

This felt like a very mature conversation to be having with a seven-year-old. It also felt like a bit of an insult to Oscar and the friendship he’d provided for her, but who was I to argue. I was going to have to tread very carefully with my words. “Well, I can tell you that, for now, nothing will change. As far as I can see, nothing has to change for the foreseeable future. Everything will stay as it is. I promise.”

“You do?”

“I do. Now, I need to go and find some PJs from my old room. Can you wait two minutes for me to come back?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” I said, and kissed the top of her head.

In my old bedroom, I found an old t-shirt that I forgot even existed - a tie-dye red, yellow and turquoise Red Hot Chilli Peppers crop top. Never mind using it just as a pyjama top for the night, this was coming home with me tomorrow. I paired it with some old PJ shorts that clashed so much they’d make your eyeballs bleed. Apparently 16-year-old me thought that was a really good look.

I opened the window in Ruby’s room when I returned, and slipped under the covers beside her. It was perhaps a little too warm in there, but for the sake of my daughter’s sanity, I would suffer through it for the night. She was asleep within ten minutes.

In the morning I woke before Ruby, and I could hear one of my parents moving around downstairs, so I went down for an early breakfast. My mother was tidying the kitchen up after last night’s dinner.

“Buenos días.” I said quietly so as not to startle her, and sat at the table in the window.

My mother looked over her shoulder with a frown, and did a double take. “Buenos días… ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí? ¿Tu cita con Harry no fue bien?” What are you doing here? Did your date with Harry not go well?

“No… mi cita con Harry iba muy bien.” No… my date with Harry was going very well. “Ruby me llamó a medianoche diciendo que no podía dormir. Así que lo acortamos.” Ruby called me at midnight saying she couldn’t sleep. So we cut it short.

“Oh… lo siento, querida.” My mother pouted, stroking my cheek with the back of her hand. “I guess this is what the struggles of dating with children will be like.”

I hummed, my chin in my palm.

“Was Harry alright?”

She’d continued in Spanish, so I did too. “Yeah, he walked me here. I guess with having a child of his own he understands that they come first. We had a good evening regardless, it hasn’t changed anything.”

“Well that’s good. I honestly think you’ve hit a gold mine with that one - he’s a saint.”

“Mm… all men have their flaws.” I said dryly.

“What’s his?”

“He drives a Range Rover.”

“Oh,” my mother scoffed and swatted my arm with the tea towel in her hand.

I laughed, delighted with myself. “Bromeo, todavía no lo he encontrado.” I’m joking, I haven’t found it yet.

“Your father’s is that he constantly says he’s going to fix something and then never bloody fixes it. Or still, after 40 years of marriage, leaves the toilet seat up. Or doesn’t lock the shed door when he’s finished with it.”

All of those things seemed very discernible rather than complex. “Well, 40 years down the line and you’re still married to him, so he can’t be that bad.”

She sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. “You’re right - he’s not that bad at all.”

“Anyway, what were you going to do with Ruby today?”

“She was coming to the salon with me, wasn’t she?”

“Oh shit, yeah.” We both needed haircuts. “She might still want to do that.”

“Well, we can ask her when she wakes up.”

So, we did. I helped my mother make a big breakfast for the four of us, which easily roused my sleeping daughter and father. Ruby sank an entire glass of orange juice as soon as she sat down she was that dehydrated, and practically hoovered up her breakfast. At least I could always count on her appetite.

“Ruby, what do you want to do today - do you want to stay with me for the day at the salon?”

“Yeah! Can Bongo come?”

“Of course he can.”

“Mummy, will you be coming?” Ruby asked.

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, poppet. It wouldn’t be very useful of me to be there, to be honest, so probably not.”

“Oh… but can I still go?”

“Of course you can - I can pick you up later? I’ll need to come back for a haircut after all of Abuela's appointments are finished anyway.”

“Okay!”

While Ruby was finishing up downstairs, I headed upstairs to have a shower and get dressed. I texted Harry while I was changing.

Floss 09:41 Did you have any plans today?

I waited for a response while I sorted my hair out, but never received one. Eventually, my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Are you running away from your child?”

“Ha ha.” I said bluntly, and then spoke as quietly as I possibly could. “No, she wants to go with my mum for the day, so I’m free until about half four.”

He hummed, a short and thoughtful noise. “I think I know lots we can do in that space of time.”

“That’s good - you can tell me later.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“I need to go home and change first - all I’ve got is yesterday’s clothes and a t-shirt from when I was a teenager.”

“What t-shirt is it?” He asked, flirting.

“I think you’d like it. It’s a crop top.”

“Will you wear it today?”

I laughed and immediately regretted it. “Not today, no. Maybe some other time.”

He sighed, the sound of faux disappointment. “Fine. I’ll be at yours in half an hour?”

“Sounds good.”

I collected my things and made my way downstairs - everyone was still in the kitchen. 

“Mummy, what were you laughing at?”

“Zara - she said something daft. Right, I’m going to head home to change and then run some errands. I’ll be back later to come and get you from the salon, okay?”

“Okay. Will you be going shopping?”

“Maybe… or I might save that for later so we can go together.”

“If you go before you pick me up, can you get me some sweets?”

“Oh, yes.” I said with a grin, and pecked the top of her head. “What sweets would you like?”

“Um…” she put her finger to her pursed lips, like a caricature in thought. “Surprise me!”

I giggled. “Alright, my darling, I will do that. Be a good girl for Abuela, okay?”

“Yes!”

“Buena. I’ll see you all later on.”

My small family said their goodbyes to me, and I quickly departed the house to walk home. 

It was another hot day, which meant another tear-up of my wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear. I didn’t know what Harry was thinking for us to do if he wanted to pick me up, but I assumed it meant escaping Bibury for a few hours, which I was more than okay with. Whatever it was, I’d be with Harry, which meant it could only be perfect.

nineteen

Harry picked me up as we arranged, wearing the same cream linens as yesterday with a white vest and a weird kind of pale blue Hawaiian shirt. I’d never looked at him and immediately thought ‘dad’ until now. He leaned over the centre console to give me a kiss once the door was closed, pushing his sunglasses into his hair first.

“Long time, no see.” He joked.

I laughed as I clipped in my seatbelt. “Gonna be like this for a while, I think. At least until Ruby is over whatever weird spot this is that she’s in.”

He hummed, pulling off. “We’ll manage.”

He drove us out to the Sherborne Estate and parked up a little out the way. I thought we’d be doing the same walk as I had done on Ruby’s birthday, but when Harry pulled a picnic basket out of his boot I grew a little confused. There was no way we’d be carrying that around with us for hours.

“I know a little spot.” He said with a smirk when he noticed the look on my face.

I lifted my head slightly. “Okay.”

I hoped his ‘little spot’ wasn’t far, because I was not wearing suitable clothing for a long walk. I had on a blue and white vertical pinstripe skirt that barely reached my knees, a white cropped t-shirt with a peach embroidered on the breast and some white hi-top Converse.

He took my hand to lead the way, in the opposite direction to where I would usually go. I supposed that was a good sign.

Harry led me through the trees that lined the estate, taking extra caution to keep me on my feet; ensuring I didn’t fall on my face. At this point we both knew it was a very high possibility that that might happen. The sun shone through the treetops so that everything had a golden glow and a lushness to it. The floor was covered in bluebells and thick ferns, spread wide and far right to the edges of the woodland.

Only a few minutes into the woods Harry stopped, picked the biggest bluebell he could find and handed it to me. The sentiment made me blush, and he pressed a kiss to my temple when I didn’t immediately say anything.

We walked a little further, in a direction that was completely lost on me. I was hoping and praying that wherever we went, that by the time we were home I wouldn’t be covered in grass stains and stinger rashes. If I’d have known we were going walking in the woods I would’ve put my jeans on.

The trees and grass grew thicker the further in we went, brushing around my ankles and my knees so that it tickled like feathers. I clung onto Harry’s hand as if my life depended on it, my gaze permanently fixed on the floor.

After maybe 20 minutes of walking, Harry suddenly stopped. I looked at him with a frown, but he didn’t meet my gaze. He just pulled back a thick mass of green leaves and dark branches and nodded me onwards.

“Tú primero, querida.” You first, darling, he said, and even though he wasn’t looking at me, I could still see that proud grin on his face.

I rolled my eyes and squeezed around his broad frame through the bristly bushes.

I found myself, somehow, inside a small, grove-like clearing. It was bright and open, no trees above us, filled with colourful wildflowers and bright green grass. There was a single park bench at the far end almost lost to the greenery around it, so it was obviously a known part of the estate, but there was no one else here. It was just Harry and I.

“Como demonios…” I muttered to myself as I stared around the private sanctuary, utterly bewildered. How had I lived here my whole life and not known that this place existed until now?

“What d’you think?” Harry asked, an excited lilt to his question.

“Er,” I laughed once, breathy, “I think it’s a pisstake that I’ve lived here forever and never knew this was even here, and that I’m being shown to it by an outsider.”

“An outsider?” He giggled. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Well, you’re not a local.” I argued.

“No, perhaps not. But I was married to one.”

His comment stunned me. That was the first time I’d heard Harry so much as mention Lottie since I’d known him. It seemed to come from him so easily that it took me by surprise.

“What?” He asked when I didn’t say anything. “Does that not count?”

I cleared my throat. “Oh, er, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Do you not like it?”

Christ alive, Florence, get a grip.

“No!” I stressed, turning to face him. “I love it, it’s beautiful. I just can’t get over the fact that I didn’t know about it.”

“It is signposted.” He chuckled as he placed the basket on the ground.

I’d obviously missed that.

“Will you be happy with a picnic here?”

“God yes.”

Harry and I set up our picnic in the middle of the little grove, consisting of finger sandwiches, an abundance of deli meats and cheeses, more fruit than I knew what to do with and a half-bottle of champagne I couldn’t possibly try and pronounce the name of. His picnic blanket was made of a tartan fleece material and had a lining on the underside that was covered in sand. He’d obviously taken it to the beach with him at some point. I tried not to imagine the sand somehow finding its way into my shoes and between my toes. The mere thought made me want to cringe.

“There’s no way you had time to make all this up before you picked me up…” I said as I took a bite out of a salmon and cream cheese sandwich.

“What if I did?” He challenged.

“Well, you obviously didn’t.”

He chuckled. “No, I was hoping we’d get to do this anyway, so I made it up yesterday before I collected Oscar from school. If for some reason we couldn’t have it, I’d have just taken Oscar to the park and we’d have had it there instead.”

“Oh…” I pursed my lips. “Feel like I’ve kind of ruined your day with Oscar. That would’ve been nice.”

“Don’t talk bollocks.” He shook his head. “I did this for you.”

I tried to hide my smile and failed. “You did a good job. I’m a very happy girl.”

“Good.” He grinned, and leaned over to kiss my lips. “And, by the way, I really like your outfit.”

I looked down at myself. “You do?”

He nodded. “Look like you’re about to step onto Centre Court at Wimbledon.”

I was confused. “Don’t you have to wear loads of padding and funny hats at Wimbledon?”

He blinked at me a couple of times, equally confused. “Are you thinking about cricket…?”

“Is that not what they play at Wimbledon?”

Harry giggled. “No, Floss. Tennis is played at Wimbledon.”

“Oh,” I whined and hid my face in my hands. I should know that - my mother loves Freddie Flintoff. Un hombre tan fornido… she’d sigh out anytime he appeared on the telly, which roughly translated to ‘such a strapping man’. Dad would then grumble and call him a prick.

We carried on eating, with me trying extra hard at not saying anything else stupid while we chatted about our children and our work. I ended up lying on my back as I listened to him tell me a story about one of Oscar’s first accidents when he was around two. Lottie wasn’t present in the story but I couldn’t figure out if it was because she just wasn’t there, or because he didn’t want to mention her in the context, or because she’d already passed away. I guess Lottie wasn’t really integral to the story, but my mind did drift to her a lot.

By the end of his anecdote, Harry’s head was in my lap, both of us with our eyes closed because the sun was so bright, and I had one hand stroking through his hair while he held my other in his own. It was quiet apart from our light chatter - you couldn’t hear anything for miles apart from the odd bird and maybe a slight irregular breeze. I couldn’t remember ever feeling a peace like it.

I sat up on my elbows at one point, feeling the urge for a strawberry. I found the packet, keeping Harry where he was as I fished a few out and into my hand, and took a bite out of the largest one I had. I could feel his eyes on me, and I didn’t shy away from looking at him.

“Can I have one?” He asked in a near whisper.

I had a strong urge to say no, but refrained. “Of course.”

I took the next largest strawberry and fed it to him, his hand still around my wrist and his eyes still on mine. He ate the whole thing down to the stalk, and when he was done his lips were smattered with pink juice. It all felt kind of erotic, and I couldn’t help myself as I leaned over him and pressed my lips to his, kissing the strawberry juice away. His mouth tasted sweet over everything else, and I wanted to stay with him like that, with my mouth on his mouth, for the rest of the day. We kissed like that for a long time - him with his head in my lap and me folded over him, my right hand stroking his chest while my left played with his hair -, until I was uncomfortable and practically inviting back ache to pay me a visit.

Eventually we switched so that Harry was on his back and I was lying on top of him. Our lips never parted, at least not until I could feel something (you know the thing) between my legs and I wanted, no, needed, to taste that instead. I kissed my way down his front, pushing his unbuttoned shirt aside and lifted his vest up so I could marvel at his body. I kissed every inch of his chest, and I left a nice little love bite just under his right pectoral.

The whole time, Harry was talking in whispers - I couldn’t understand what he was saying and I wasn’t entirely sure he’d registered what I was doing.

I continued on down the length of his body until I was between his legs and my teeth were grazing his lower abdomen. He groaned loudly when I started brushing my palm against his crotch and lifted his head up.

“Are you really gonna do that here?” He asked breathlessly, but it wasn’t a defensive question. It was more like shock.

I had momentarily forgotten where we were, but considering I’d basically already tried to do this once before, when we were walking Bongo in the field behind my house, I was surprised he had to ask. Nevertheless, “Do you want me to do it here?”

“I really want you to do that here.”

I think I was smirking, but I couldn’t be sure. I continued showing his abdomen, which was very beautifully defined and toned, by the way, the attention it deserved while I unbuttoned and unzipped Harry’s linens. He was hard when I took him out, throbbing in my hand, warm to the touch and a kind of iridescent pink in colour. It made my mouth water.

And so, in the middle of that luscious grove I’d never heard of, surrounded by beautiful wildflowers and tall grass and with the sun at its highest and hottest, I gave Dr Styles head until he was writhing and ready to go. His hands were in my hair, holding it out of the way and tucking it behind my ear. It became so hot that I had to tie it up at one point. I also had my fingers in his mouth more than once, his tongue licking its way around my digits like they were an ice cream. We were making the most obscene noises - if anyone did discover us like that I would be mortified, but I was equally excited.

I can’t quite remember if he stopped me or if I stopped myself, but I do remember him sitting up a little to pull me towards him, my legs straddling his hips.

“Please tell me you have a condom?”

He smirked. “There’s one in the picnic basket somewhere.”

Without taking myself off him in the slightest, I leaned over to rummage through the basked one-handedly. I found it tucked away in one of the pockets that had the side plates in it, and I ripped it open, took it out of the foil and rolled it down Harry’s length. Then, I lifted my bum up, holding Harry’s dick in one hand and readjusting my underwear with the other. I didn’t even take my knickers off, I just moved the seat aside and sank down onto his thick length.

That familiar unified groan oozed out of us, and Harry sat up while he waited for me to adjust to him. He propped himself up on one hand, the other placed at the back of my head above the nape of my neck with a somewhat rough grip. His kiss was greedy and sloppy and he grunted into my mouth with such menace that I was getting wetter by the second.

I started rolling my hips over him, and I told him to lie back at the same time. He seemed reluctant, but he did what I said. As I rocked back and forth over him his hands travelled my thighs and my chest like an eager sea captain. He slipped them under my t-shirt to fondle my boobs, and I gripped his wrists when he did so. 

My pace grew faster and faster, Spanish words tumbling out of my mouth in high-pitched and breathless succession.

“Me haces sentir tan jodidamente bien.” I said, followed by, “Nunca me había sentido así antes.” To him and his basic knowledge of Spanish, that would sound like… well, not very much at all. I felt like I was opening up the floodgates. My head was rolling as if my neck were broken, I could barely concentrate.

Harry lifted his arse off the ground in time with the rolling of my hips, his length pushing deeper inside of me. His hands lowered to my bum, squeezing and gripping in silent encouragement to go faster. “Tell me what you’re saying.” He begged.

“Santa mierda,” Holy fucking shit, I hissed, a reaction to his movement.

“That’s a naughty saying.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course he somehow managed to retain the swearing phrases. I doubt he’d been taught them by his elusive Spanish teacher. “The fact that you know that tells me you’re not taking your lessons seriously.”

“I take them very seriously.”

I looked down at him and he was just watching me - his head in amongst the pretty grass, hair a knotted mess and body writhing with pleasure. His skin had a glowing sheen to it, hairline a little damp in the same way his chest glistened with sweat. He looked gorgeous. I wanted a picture of him like that, and I’d probably put it somewhere completely inappropriate, like the ceiling above my bed.

“What did you say?” He asked again.

“I said I’ve never felt this way before.”

He seemed to let the air leave him, tight chest relaxing. “Me neither.”

That made me smile. I wrapped my hands around both his wrists, and I forced one of his hands under my top to play with my tits again, and then with the other, I put his fingers in my mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, watching me with an extreme intensity that I felt like I was suddenly performing. But I liked it.

I wet his index and middle finger until I was satisfied, a string of saliva following them when I took them out of my mouth, and guided them to between my legs. He did exactly what I needed him to, and rubbed against my clit in a way that made me squirm because it felt that fucking good.

Barely a minute later, the two of us unravelled together in the hot early summer afternoon, and I collapsed on top of him, heaving from exhaustion. He kissed me, slow and tender, until I got my breath back and he wasn’t so amped up. 

Harry cleaned himself up while I ate the rest of the sandwiches. Apparently shagging in the middle of a field can work up an appetite. Who knew? After we were completely done eating we packed everything up and walked back to the car, hand in hand and a little smitten.

“Can we still do lunch in the week?” Harry asked. I was holding his hand, keeping it in my lap as we drove back into Bibury.

“Sure,” I said, looking over at him with a smile, “what day?”

He pursed his lips. “How about Tuesday?”

“Sounds good to me. Just let me know on the day what time and I’ll come to you.”

Harry grinned, and he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Deal.”

I turned slightly in my seat, resting my head against the backrest while I watched him. He’d calmed his tousled hair on our walk back and he looked a lot less flush in his face. He concentrated on the road, but occasionally, when he felt it was safe, he’d glance my way. That was another photo I wanted to take and keep, so I did. I fished my phone out from between my thighs and I took a picture of him like that. He didn’t even blush.

“That gonna be your new phone background?”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Only if you’re happy with Ruby murdering you.”

He shrugged. “Would be alright. I think I peaked today with what we just did.”

“You think that’s peaking?”

“Well, for now. There are… other things I’d like to do with you. But I don’t think you’ll let me anywhere near you in a dental room. Basically what I’m trying to say is that if I died today I’d die happy.”

I gave him a scrutinous look. “I don’t think that’s true, is it?”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Oscar?”

Harry pressed his lips together. “Yeah, alright. That’s fair.”

Harry dropped me off at home so I could change, and then I drove around to Mum’s salon to get my hair done and take Ruby shopping.

“Hola, querida,” My mother grinned at me as soon as I walked in the door.

“Hola, mamá.” I said, pecking her cheek as I passed. She was doing Ruby’s hair, putting it into plaits while wet. “Hola, mi amor.” I said to Ruby as I sat down in the chair next to her.

She grinned but didn’t say anything or move her head. She’d probably been told to sit very still.

“¿Entonces que hiciste?” What did you do, then? Mother asked me.

“Fui de picnic con ya sabes quién.” Went for a picnic with you know who.

She smirked, tied the last of Ruby’s braids with a tiny elastic band, and then looked straight at me. “Parece que la pasaste bien.” You look like you had a good time.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “¿Sentido?” Meaning?

“Parece que te han arrastrado a través de un seto hacia atrás.” You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.

I screwed my face up at her.

“Me alegra que te diviertas. Te lo mereces.” I’m glad you’re having fun. You deserve it.

“Abuela, can I get up now?” Ruby asked.

“Sí, querida. Vamos.”

Ruby stood up from the chair, and I stood too.

“Do you want to wash your hair?” My mother asked me.

I shrugged. “I don’t need to.”

“Alright, sit down then.” She nodded to the chair. “I’ll just give it a trim, yeah?”

“Por favor.”

“Mummy, did you get my sweets?” Ruby asked, sitting beneath the vanity table between my feet.

“I didn’t have time to go shopping, muffin. But we can go together now and you can pick something really naughty for dinner. How’s that sound?”

“Oh, yes! Can we do hot dogs?”

“If that’s what you want to do we absolutely can. And you can pick a new film to watch as well, yeah?”

My mother pulled my hair. She knew I was probably buttering her up.

“Yay!”

“Oh,” Mum leaned over my shoulder, “they’ve announced the dates for the county fair. It’s the weekend the kids break up for school - you should get together with Geri and Harry and arrange to go.”

Ruby was already looking at me, a blank expression on her face. I tried to play my worry off as nothing. “What do you think, Rubes? Do you want to go to the fair this year with Milly and Oscar?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“¿Qué quieres decir, tal vez?” What do you mean, maybe? My mother scoffed. She only said full sentences in Spanish with Ruby when she was irritated. “They’re your friends - don’t you want to go with them?”

“I do.”

“So why ‘maybe’, then? Aye? What’s all this ‘maybe’ nonsense?”

My daughter mumbled something, looking at the floor.

“I can’t hear you, Ruby.”

I didn’t very often hear my mum take a stern tone like that with Ruby.

“I don’t want Oscar’s daddy to go.”

I rolled my head back and took a deep breath. Ruby’s random and sudden dislike for Harry was beginning to upset me. Quite a lot. I could see things with Harry going a long way, and it would be a real shame if it couldn’t go any further than what we were doing now - sneaking around and behaving like teenagers - because Ruby didn’t want me to have a partner.

“And why not?” My mother demanded. “What has Oscar’s dad ever done to upset you?”

Ruby looked at me, then at her abuela, and then back to me. I knew what she was saying, without saying anything at all. And I also knew that if she did say it, my mother would lose her temper.

“Ah, come on.” I said, brushing my hand to try and make light of the subject. “It’s alright. We can just go on our own, can’t we Ruby?”

My daughter looked at the floor again and started playing with her feet.

“Ella se está volviendo egoísta, Florence.” She’s getting selfish, Florence.

“Ella está aterrorizada por el cambio.” She’s just terrified of change, I argued.

“El cambio es una parte natural de la vida. No puedes seguir mimándola porque es tu bebé.” Change is a natural part of life. You can’t keep coddling her because she’s your baby.

I knew my mother was right. We were both right, to some extent. Ruby needed to learn that in life things change when you least expect them to, even if we don’t like them. I also knew that she was the only thing I had - she was my entire world and I hated seeing her upset. But sometimes we have to upset the ones we love because it’s for the better.

Eventually I would have to tell Ruby that Harry and I were seeing each other. We hadn’t broached that subject with each other yet, but it was coming. I had no desire to see other people, and from what I could understand, he didn’t either. And whenever the time came to tell Ruby, she would just have to accept it.

twenty

Ruby was very quiet with me for that whole following week. I was somewhat offended, considering I wasn’t the one who’d challenged her on her opinions of the not-so-new dad in town. I was hoping that perhaps she’d change her mind about how she was feeling after the dressing-down from her abuela, but I knew that was optimistic of me. The only way Ruby would be changing her opinion was if it came from her own volition. She really was Latina in that way.

She spent most of her time in her room when we were at home, and I could never really hear much from her. Every time I went to put her to bed she was already in it and fast asleep, or if I went to check on her she would just mumble something incoherent and turn away from me.

It all escalated again on Tuesday.

I had to cancel my lunch date with Harry because I had too much to do and not enough time to do it. Unusually I was the first one to the school to pick Ruby up. I think that was a combination of both manic clock-watching to make sure I left on time and trying to get into my daughter’s good books.

Geri arrived shortly afterwards and started talking about Friday.

“We’ll be there straight after work, mate, don’t worry.” I said calmly, Geri thinking Zara and I had forgotten. Well, Zara might have done, but I hadn’t.

“Okay, good. ‘Cause I’ve bought a fuck load of alcohol and I intend to drink it. Preferably with the two of you, but I will do it alone if I have to.”

I gave Geri a concerned look. I hadn’t forgotten the conversation I’d overheard between her and Owen at Ruby’s birthday party. That felt like a lifetime ago, but it was there, in the back of my mind. Something else must’ve happened. “I promise you we’ll be there. Can’t have you drinking alone on a Friday night.”

“Well, you do it all the time.”

How rude.

In the next minute Harry’s car pulled in, and I tried my best not to behave like a teenage girl at the sight of her crush walking down the corridor. Geri was talking about my Friday nights and how dull they must be with Ruby at my parents and being alone in my home. I couldn’t wait to shatter that little imaginary scenario when I told her about Harry. I could tell my friends about him - that didn’t bother me at all.

When Harry approached us he stood on my right, and I felt him brush his finger along a short length of my arm. My hairs stood on end as he did and I tried not to shiver.

“Harry, will you tell Floss here that it’s not healthy to spend Friday nights alone every week.” Geri demanded.

I scowled at her, and then turned my attention to the dentist.

He looked at me with a kind of charged smile. “Geri’s right - that’s not healthy.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“How I spend my Friday nights is nobody’s business.” I retorted.

“Well, you’re welcome at my house anytime, Floss.”

I whipped my head around and glared at him. He seemed perfectly at ease and it irked me. Were we children now? Why was I being teased? Why was Harry joining in?

Milly appeared in front of us then, and there were no other children even on the playground or remotely visible anywhere. How was she always the first one out the doors? Did she teleport here?

“Hello, darling.” Geri said breathlessly.

“Hi.” Milly smiled.

“Ready to go?”

She nodded, and so Geri took her hand and started walking away. “I’ll see you on Friday night, Florence!”

I rolled my eyes and gave her an irritated wave. Harry started giggling, so I smacked his arm.

“Ow.”

“If there’s anything you need to learn, it’s that you shouldn’t wind me up.” I warned him.

“Why don’t you just tell her we’ve been seeing each other?”

“I will be. On Friday. When Zara is also present.”

“You haven’t told Zara?”

“No, we have this rule. If we have news all three of us have to be there to share it. One isn’t allowed to know before the other.”

Harry’s brows lifted, and I was convinced he thought we were mental. We were, actually, a little bit mental.

“I’m sorry about lunch, by the way. I was really excited this morning and then a billion cars turned up and ruined it for me.”

“It’s alright,” He said with an easy smile, and his fingers were stroking up and down my arm again, “things like this are gonna happen, aren’t they?”

I gave him a solemn nod. “Do you want to try again tomorrow?”

He appeared to wince. “I think for now we should just ditch the idea of lunch dates. I was being greedy - it’s not going to work. I’ll just have to wait until next week, won’t I?”

I grunted. “Unless you somehow manage to convince Ruby you’re an angel so we can have dinner together, yes. We’ll just have to wait.”

“But I am an angel.”

“No you’re not.” I said, turning back towards the playground.

Ruby and Oscar were walking together, but they weren’t behaving like they usually did. Well, Oscar was. Ruby appeared to still be sulking. The two approached us together, but Ruby didn’t stop walking once they’d reached us. She carried on marching all the way up to the car.

I sighed and rubbed my cheek.

“Is she alright?” Harry asked, concern very apparent in his tone.

“No.”

“Why, what happened?”

I shook my head. “She got a bit of a telling-off from my mum on Saturday and she’s just been like this ever since.”

“That’s not like Ruby. Or your mum…”

“Tell me about it. But she’s not talking to me, either.”

Harry was silent for a moment, and I wondered if he understood what the problem was. “It’ll sort itself out, Floss. Just give her some time.”

I hummed, the sound dead. “I hope so.” I gave him another downhearted smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow to pick her up.”

“Alright, love.”

“Bye, Oscar.” I forced a better smile and a wave.

He did the same to me, and then we went our separate ways.

I unlocked the car for Ruby before I got there, and she wasted no time getting inside. The journey to Mum and Dad’s, though short, was silent, and I hated it. She didn’t comment on anything, she didn’t say anything about her day, she didn’t ask me a question. Nothing. If a pin ever did drop in that moment it would’ve been deafening.

At my parents’ house she ran straight up to her room there without even saying hello to anyone. I went straight to the sofa and curled up in a ball next to my dad.

“What’s going on? Why is she upstairs?” My mother asked as she leaned on the back of the sofa.

“She’s still not talking.”

“Really?” My mother kissed her teeth. “That’s some really petty nonsense right there, Floss.”

“Tell me about it. It’s like having a teenager.”

“Well, it’s because you let her believe it’s an acceptable way to behave.”

Of course this was all my fault. My mother was the one who upset her but I was the one getting the blame for it? But then the more I thought about it, I realised maybe it was my fault. I was the one who started sleeping with the sexy dentist in the first place. 

Curse me and my raging hormones.

“Go and get her, Dave.” My mother patted Dad’s arm. “I’m not having her come here for dinner to hide in that room all evening. She can go home if that’s what she’s gonna do.”

I redacted the fact that going home to her own bedroom was exactly what Ruby wanted to do.

Dad stood from his place with a displeased groan and disappeared to try and coax my daughter downstairs. I stayed put and stared at the TV without registering what was going on. My mother went back into the kitchen to finish cooking dinner.

Ten minutes later my dad was back, without Ruby. “She’s not coming.” He announced with a long sigh.

“No,” Mum slapped her tea towel on the counter and marched into the hallway, muttering as she went, “no soy un hostal, soy su abuela. Ella se sentará aquí con el resto de nosotros y nos mostrará un poco de respeto.”

I sat up and watched her storm about the house, terrified. I hadn’t seen my mother like this since I was a teenager.

“Ruby Fuentes-Carter!” She screamed up the stairs. “I do not invite you to this house for dinner so you can sit in that room and ignore us. Come downstairs right now! No me importa por lo que estés molesto, comerás con nosotras si te gusta o no.”

A door opened upstairs, and this little voice shouted, “¡No estoy llegando!” I’m not coming!

I put my head in my hands, an ache in my chest.

My mother went back to stomping around, making passive aggressive comments that flipped between Spanish and English, sometimes mid-sentence.

“I’m not feeding her.” She told me, pointing a finger at me, and then carried on. A minute later she came back and said, with the same stature, “I am not feeding her, Florence. If she’s going to behave like that in my house she can go without her dinner, I don’t care.”

And I knew she meant it, too, because I spent many nights in my room without dinner when I was 14 or 15. Except Ruby was only half that age, and it was really unusual. It seemed like an immense overreaction on her part to being given a little challenge by her grandma. 

I stood up and without looking at anybody said, “I’m gonna take her home.”

“What about your dinner?” My mother asked, hands on her hips and offence written right across her face.

“Mum, I’m not gonna let you feed me but not Ruby. That’s ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is this attitude she’s got all of a sudden. All because her mamá might have someone else in her life that means she won’t get every single ounce of attention. She should be happy for you, Florence. You have been on your own for so long and you have finally met somebody who obviously makes you happy. And she’s throwing a temper tantrum because she’s ‘scared of change’. I am not having it for you. She should be over the fucking moon.

“I know you tried really hard to make sure she didn’t turn into a typical only child brat stereotype by giving her things in moderation. Trivial things, functional things. But you forgot about the other thing. You had two parents growing up as an only child, and she has only ever had you. And it’s very possible that she will only ever have you. She has no idea what it’s like to share a person because she’s never had to, and unless you put your foot down, she never will.”

And once again, my mother made an all-too-valid point.

I got mum to pack up two small plastic containers full of the dinner she’d made for us, and I took Ruby home and let her have it in her room. As soon as I’d done the washing up I went straight to bed and fell asleep, and I didn’t wake up until the next morning when my alarm went off.

On Wednesday and Thursday when I picked Ruby up from Harry’s, he told me Ruby had been just as quiet as she had all week (aside from her outburst on Tuesday with my mother). Apparently even Oscar had noticed it, because she was taking it to school with her.

I knew I needed to say something to her. She was about to spend the night at her grandma’s house and Daniela Fuentes would not take another episode lightly of whatever Tuesday was.

“Ruby, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked, gesturing at the breakfast table before we even left the house on Friday morning.

She didn’t answer me, she just sat down and looked at her feet. I took the opposite seat and leant my weight on the table.

“If we’re going to have this conversation I need you to be looking at me.”

My daughter still never shifted her gaze, and her face was sullen.

“Ruby,”

She shook her head.

I gritted my teeth. Bongo was sitting on the floor staring between the two of us. He made a small whine and then stood, moving towards Ruby and muzzling his nose into her limp hand. She didn’t so much as flinch.

“Look at me, please.”

Still she glared at the floor, and I was losing my temper.

“Ruby!” I shouted, and I smacked a hand to the tabletop.

She jumped, and looked my way. Her eyes were wide and startled.

“I don’t know what I’ve done, or your grandma’s done, to deserve whatever this behaviour is from you, but it ends right now. Right now. You shouted at your abuela the other day in her own home and it was not okay, I did not raise you to be that way and neither did she. Whatever it is that’s going on, it ends now, because she is not going to tolerate it again.”

Ruby looked at me with a stare that was so emotionless it terrified me. “Abuela upset me.”

“Why?” I asked, baffled. “All she did was question you. In her head she can’t justify your reasoning for being upset, and neither can I. You’re terrified of change and that’s fine, but nothing is changing. Nothing.”

“You lied to me!”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You said you didn’t have a boyfriend and it was a lie!”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Ruby!”

She started to cry. Apparently all of my daughter’s frustrations and anger and sadness had finally come to the surface, and they bubbled over like hot, aggressive lava. “I know you do! Oscar told me - you’ve been seeing his daddy when I go to Abuela’s! I said I didn’t want you to have a boyfriend!”

I rolled my head back and dragged my hands down my face. “Ruby, you might be too young to understand this, but Harry and I have labelled nothing. We haven’t decided what we are yet, okay? Yes, I have been spending time with Oscar’s daddy when I can, because I like him. I like him a lot, actually. But you have always been the most important thing to me - I said that, didn’t I?”

“So why are you choosing him over me?”

“I’m not.” I was exasperated. “When have I ever done that?”

“Saturday!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said you weren’t coming with me and abuela because you had things to do. And you didn’t do them! You went to see Oscar’s daddy.”

I sat back a little. “Okay, yes. Fine. I did go and see Harry instead of doing what I said I was. I lied to you, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That being said, I specifically gave you the option of coming with me or staying with Grandma, and you chose to stay. If you wanted to come with me, we would’ve done whatever you wanted to do.”

“You should’ve stayed with us.”

I took a deep breath, and then another. “I don’t know where you picked up this behaviour from, but it ends now. Do you understand?” I said in the sternest voice I could muster. “It is not up to you to dictate to me what I do and when I do it - I am your mother. You listen to me. Grandad is picking you up from school today, and you need to have got rid of whatever this attitude is by the time he does. Because Grandma might have lost her temper yesterday, but it is nothing compared to what your grandad can do.”

She scowled at her lap, remaining wordless again.

“Go and get in the car.”

That evening at Geri’s house I welcomed the first glass of wine she handed me. It was gone within five minutes, and she very quickly topped it up again.

“Oh, mate.” Zara cooed, rubbing my back.

“What’s going on with you?” Geri asked, sitting at the corner end of her ridiculously large sofa. “Is Ruby still playing up?”

“Yeah…” I said and gave a heaved sigh. “We had a massive fight this morning, the worst one we’ve ever had.”

“I went into the office at lunchtime and she were crying.” Zara said tightly. “Didn’t know what to do with myself. Her sandwich got all soggy.”

I laughed around at the reminder and leaned my head against her shoulder. It was true - at lunchtime, with five minutes too many to think about the state of my relationship with my seven-year-old, I’d burst into tears and cried into my sandwich until it was inedible.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I told her she needed to sort out her attitude before she went to my mum and dad’s tonight ‘cause they wouldn’t be having it. She got so upset, it was really frustrating.”

“What’s she upset about, though?” Geri was frowning. “I know she’s been in a mood all week but you never said why.”

I chewed my lip, gaze flitting between the two of them. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Geri’s mouth fell open, and Zara’s eyes went wide, charged with excitement. “Let me guess,” Zara started, “Darren?”

“What?” I frowned. “Ew, no.”

Geri swatted our friend’s arm. “It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

I failed at not smiling. Suddenly the room filled with delighted squeals. Zara stood up and started jumping around, and Geri launched herself at me once our wine glasses were a safe distance away, tackling me into the opposite corner of the sofa.

“I fucking knew it!” Zara screamed.

“Er, no you didn’t.” I argued, regaining my composure.

“Fine, I didn’t. But still, this is great news!”

“I’m so happy for you.” Geri said, still clinging to me. A tear rolled down her face.

“Thank you… Yeah. It’s early doors but it’s going really well. And I do really like him. Like, a lot.”

“How did it happen?” Zara asked, sitting back down.

“Half term.” I recollected my wine and took another large gulp. “You know I told you he broke down and I had to go and get him?”

“That day?!”

“Well, the day after. When he came to get his car from the garage.”

“That doesn’t sound very romantic.”

I looked at Geri, confused. “What do you mean?”

“He came to collect his car from the garage and then asked you on a date? Bit dull.”

“Oh,” I chewed my lip again, “not exactly.”

Zara gasped. “You did it in the garage?!”

I blushed and giggled so much I had to hide my face. More squealing ensued.

“You dirty bitch!” Zara was cackling.

“Look, I know you two think I’m some kind of nun, but I’m not, alright?” I was defensive but I was entertained. “I’ve slept with a lot more people than you think I have.”

“How many are we talking?”

“I don’t know, I never counted.” I shrugged.

“More than ten?”

“Oh, easily.”

“Twenty?”

“More.”

“Thirty?”

I stopped and thought about it. “Yeah, probably. Thirty-one if you count Harry.”

Zara’s laughter sounded like barking. “Why didn’t you tell us you were a bit of a slag?”

I kissed my teeth. “Because you were always badgering on at me to find a long-term boyfriend and I didn’t want that. Not then, anyway.”

“Aw.” Geri mumbled, rubbing my back. “Finding out that you’re a tart has made my day. No, my whole month.”

“Maybe even her year.” Zara sniggered.

“Piss off.” I said, laughing.

“So, what’s Ruby’s problem?”

I sighed. “She doesn’t want me to have a boyfriend because she doesn’t like change. I mean, me and Harry haven’t even gone near that whole labelling stuff yet, we’re just… I don’t know, we’re still learning about one another. Really, I barely know him. Took me until last week to realise that he’s Lottie’s husband.”

“Is he?” Zara asked with a furrowed brow.

“Of course he is, you twat.” Geri rolled her eyes.

“I thought their baby was like two years old?”

“He was when Lottie died. Five years ago.”

Zara screwed her face up. “That’s awkward. Does he talk about her?”

“Never.” I shook my head.

“Anyway, back to Ruby.” Geri pushed on. “You told her you’re seeing him and she got upset?”

“Well, no. I hadn’t told her anything. It’s only been, like, two weeks, for crying out loud. I thought I’d have at least a month or two before I needed to tell her, but as soon as it happened she started going off on how she doesn’t want things to change and me having a boyfriend would ruin that. Then on Saturday at the salon Mum said something about the county fair and all of us going, and Ruby said she didn’t want Harry to go, and my mum got really arsey with her.”

“Does your mum know?”

“Oh God, yeah. Can’t hide shit from that woman, she knew as soon as I arrived in Perranporth.”

“You were glowing.” Zara giggled.

“No, that’s literally what she said to me!”

Zara threw her head back laughing. “Amazing.”

“So… yeah. My mum really likes Harry and she was really excited for me, and I think she just got upset that Ruby isn’t. Especially because until she found out that we’d started seeing each other she really liked him.”

“She just needs to get over it, Floss.” Geri shrugged.

“Everyone keeps telling me that. But you’re not the ones living with her.”

“That’s the only child syndrome coming into play.” Zara said, pursing her lips.

“Exactly what my mum said.” I huffed. “I’ve concentrated too hard on not giving her what she wants all the time in terms of materialism that I forgot about teaching her to share people… Me.”

“It is, it’s learnt behaviour. She knows that she can get you whenever she wants you because you’ve always done it.”

I gasped. “You know last Friday night, I was with Harry and she called me to say Mum and Dad were sick and she couldn’t sleep. I went right to her.”

Both Geri and Zara wore the same mirrored expression; pressed lips around a cringe.

“I literally didn’t think of that. I mean it wasn’t far so I just went and spent the night with her and she was asleep within 5 minutes of me being there.”

“She’s clever, has to be said.” Geri laughed, but it was tight and nervous.

“Clearly doesn’t get it from me.”

“I know she’s your baby and you love her. You’re such a great mum, Floss, you don’t need to debate that ever. But Ruby needs to learn that change happens. Hell, shit happens. And she ain’t gonna like some of it, but that’s the way the world works. She can’t throw a tantrum every time something happens that she don’t like. You’ll be walking on eggshells around her.”

“No, I know.” I said, somewhat resigned.

“Anyway,” Zara held her glass up, “let’s have a toast to Florence finally finding a man she really likes. It’s only taken her twice as long as the rest of us.”

I scowled at her and drank out of my glass without raising it.

“We’re really happy for you, Floss.” Geri said, and it was in a much more sincere and serious tone than we’d been speaking before.

I held her gaze for a while, and I realised that this was Geri’s emergency girls night. Not mine. I’d spent all of it so far talking about me and my own problems. We were supposed to be here to talk to Geri about hers.

“Are you alright?” I asked her directly. It was vague enough to be considered a question for everyone, but I meant it just for her.

After a moment of silence, Geri finally said. “We’re getting a divorce.”

I kept looking at Geri, but I could see Zara shifting her gaze between the two of us, head moving like a bird in a cuckoo clock. “Who is?”

“We are.” Geri moved her gaze from me to Zara. “Me and Owen.”

“What?” She shifted her body to look directly at Geri, and only Geri. “Why? What happened?”

She cleared her throat. I just rubbed circles into her back. “I, er… It was me, I asked for it.”

I rested my head on her shoulder, because it felt like she’d probably need it. Zara had no idea what was coming and I thought it would be good for at least one of us to be holding onto her when she finally told us her news.

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I… I met someone else.”

“Oh my God, who?”

“Her name is August. She’s another mum but she lives in Meysey Hampton.”

Zara’s expression shifted so many times in a single second it gave me whiplash, but eventually she just lifted her head as if she understood. “I see. How did you meet?”

“Gymnastics. Her daughter and Milly are in the same class.” Geri was shrugging but something seemed odd about it. It was like she was embarrassed to admit that she’d started seeing a woman, and I couldn’t figure out why immediately. “We were always talking, always chatting at the sessions. I thought I was crazy for a bit, ‘cause she was quite flirty and I thought she meant it in the same way us guys do. You know how girlfriends flirt with each other?”

“Fuck yeah.” I said into her shoulder.

“But I liked it. In the back of my mind I knew it wasn’t the same. She was flirting with me, and I fucking loved it. And she’s gorgeous, you know? God I felt so odd. I’d both love and hate going to those sessions when it was like that, ‘cause I wanted to see her but I knew I shouldn’t. I’m married. To a man. And I have two kids, and it would destroy us, doing that.”

“So what happened?”

“I started sending Owen. Made him feel bad, said he needed to spend some time with his daughter outside the house.”

“Oh, Ger…”

“I know, it’s bad. But I wanted August to see that we were a family, you know? I wanted her to stop. Anyway, I had to take Milly to her lesson myself one day a few months later because Owen was out of town. August was there, cheerful as ever. She started doing it again, flirting, and I ended up telling her to kind of back off. I think she was offended, but she got it. We barely spoke to each other again for a while.”

I frowned, looking at her. “But that makes it sound like you kind of ended it.”

“Yeah, well that’s what I thought. A few months later, Christmas time,”

“Hang on…” Zara stopped her, “this is last year?”

Geri nodded. “Yeah, I know. Not great. Er, yeah, Christmas time, I was out with work for our staff party, and we went to The Bull in Fairford, we had this private room for dinner, it was really nice. When we were done and leaving I noticed her, August, in the main part of the pub. Thought it was a bit weird ‘cause I think it was a Tuesday or something. Anyway, I gave her a little smile, nothing massive, I just didn’t want to be rude, and I went outside.

“Everyone else had lifts or taxis pre-booked, but I didn’t. Owen was on parent duty so he couldn’t leave the kids at home. So I went back inside and tried to order a taxi with someone at the bar. Before I could, August offered to drive me home. I did try and get a taxi again, but she was really insistent, right. Talking about saving money and she wouldn’t be a very good friend if she didn’t. She’s really persuasive.”

Zara and I shared a look.

“So August drove me home. We talked about the kids, how they’re getting on, what we were doing at the pub, how work was going. You know, normal shit that friends talk about. I threw in some shit about Owen just to remind her that I am married and technically unavailable. I think she found that funny. Just before we got into Bibury she pulled over, you know in that parking bay on Salt Way?”

I did know the parking bay on Salt Way, it was right by my house. If my memory served me rightly, it was a dogging site.

“The dogging one?” Zara asked, unfazed.

Geri let her head fall in her hands. “Yeah, that one.”

“Geri, you don’t have to… butter this up so much.” I told her, wrapping my arms around her middle. “You can say that you fancied her and something happened on Salt Way and you don’t want to take it back.”

“Shut up, Floss, I want her to finish the story in all its gory detail!” Zara whined, and Geri laughed.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? That you shagged a sexy MILF on the side of a road in the middle of the night while your miserable husband was at home with your children?” Zara never had hidden her dislike for Owen. “Fuck no, I hope you did it every day!”

I shook my head. “Look, perhaps it could’ve been in better circumstances… But, it happened. And it obviously happened for a reason, right?”

“I hope so. I’m splitting our family up because of it.”

“No, but seriously. What made you change your mind after she pulled over?” Zara begged, patting Geri’s hand like a needy cat.

“Oh, I was really selfish. I felt like such a shitbag afterwards.” Geri scratched her face.

“Go on, be honest.”

“It was her body.”

Zara gasped, and then purred really loudly. “Yes?”

“I have never been more attracted to anyone than I am to August. Ever. Not even Owen. I think Owen is handsome as shit, but August is like, fuckin’ beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous beautiful. She was wearing this sparkly shift dress with big silver sequins on it. And it did absolutely fuck all for her ‘cause I’ve seen her in t-shirts and jeans and that woman is curvacious. And I wanted to see her without it, I really did.

“She said she was pulling over because her engine light had come on.” Geri looked directly at me. “I know that was a lie - her engine light did not come on. I’ve had too many lectures from you to know when something is or isn’t wrong with a car.”

“That’s my girl.” I said proudly.

“I was in two minds. I knew she was stalling, and I really wanted to go home and be a good wife, but I also desperately wanted to see what she looked like naked. I got out of the car after about two minutes of arguing with myself, and I closed the bonnet while she pretended to know what she was doing, and she looked right at me, wide eyed. And I said  “What do you want from me?”  and without hesitation she said  “I want you.” Girls, I was like a woman reborn that night, I shit you not.”

“You’ve never been with a girl before August?” Zara asked.

“No, never. I kind of fancied women when we were younger. Before I was with Owen I’d sometimes watch lesbian porn, but I’d never tried anything. I didn’t know how to. I guess the term they use now is queer? That’s what I thought I was.”

“Turns out you’re actually just a lesbian.”

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered, hiding my face against Geri’s back.

“Yeah, no, that’s exactly it.” Geri laughed.

“Have you got a picture of August?” I asked, voice quiet.

“Sure.” Geri said, and fished her phone off the table. She flicked through her photos and eventually decided on one of the two of them together. It was a selfie, both of their faces filling the screen so I had no idea where they were. They weren’t dressed up or anything. Hell, they could’ve even been at one of Milly’s gymnastics events. But Geri wasn’t wrong - August was a very beautiful woman. An oval face and big green eyes, wild red hair and freckles right the way across her cheeks and nose. Her lips were small but plump, a well-defined cupid’s bow under a little round nose.

“Oh yeah, I get it.” I laughed. “She’s very pretty.”

“Yeah, no wonder you were so keen to get her out her knickers.” Zara agreed. “So, did you have sex in the car? On the bonnet? Against the car? In the bushes?”

“All of the above?” I suggested.

Geri was laughing again and it was lovely to hear. “Er, against the car, mostly. It was very confusing because we were very hot even though it was very cold outside.”

“You saucy cow.”

“Do you feel better?” I asked, resting my chin on Geri’s shoulder again.

“I do, actually. I’ve been keeping this to myself for a long time and it’s nice to be able to talk about it in a positive way. To some degree, at least. I do feel guilty about how it happened. I just also wanted to wait until me and Owen had reached an agreement.”

“That’s fair. What is your agreement?”

“He’ll be moving out, and the kids will go to him every Wednesday and every other weekend. It’s a scary time for them. I don’t know if they’re old enough to be mad at me for it.”

“I don’t wanna say that’s not gonna happen eventually, because it would be a lie.” Zara said, serious for the first time all evening. “But then when they’re adults they probably will understand. Sexuality is a difficult thing to grasp when you’re a child. It shouldn’t be, it should just be what it is.”

“Do you think my sexuality and the impact it’s had on us as a family will reflect on how they see me in the future? Do you think they’ll… I don’t know, will it turn them into, you know, something bad?”

“Are you trying to ask me if I think your actions now will cause your children to become homophobic when they understand what’s happened?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“As long as you continue to raise them the way you have been now, you know, brilliantly and with a good moral compass, then no I don’t. I think they’ll be amazing people.”

It had never occurred to me that something like that would happen. That children might be negatively affected by their parent’s coming out later on in their life. I desperately hoped that wouldn’t happen, not to Geri or anyone. She was an amazing mum, regardless of what was going on with her romantic life. Whenever her children came to realise what had happened, I hoped they would understand.

I felt rough the next morning. We drank a lot. After an evening of revelations we decided to clean up with Geri’s alcohol purchases and dance around the living room with music from our childhood blaring out of every possible speaker. It was nice to be that drunk and that free with my friends again like we were teenagers in a field with illegally-bought booze, and it was the perfect temporary distraction.

I’d fallen asleep on Geri’s sofa the long way, and Zara had passed out on the short edge. Her feet were hanging off the end and she was using my ankle as a cushion. That couldn’t be comfortable. Geri woke us up by opening all the windows in the house and boiling the kettle at the same time as she put on the coffee machine that sounded like an alien spaceship.

“Just because she’s gay now, doesn’t mean she can be a loud bitch.” Zara grumbled, rolling onto her front.

I lightly kicked her. “Don’t be nasty.”

We were fed an absolute feast by Geri that morning - a full English breakfast and all the extra trimmings you could ever think of. I felt fat by the time I was finished.

“Floss,” Geri pulled me to one side before I left to go home and shower.

“Yes, mate?”

“Did you know about… you know, before last night?”

I looked outside the open front door. Zara was already inside Mickey’s car. “Yeah, I did. I overheard you fighting at Ruby’s birthday party.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you obviously weren’t ready to talk about it, and it’s not my secret to discuss, with you or anyone else. I wanted to wait until you were ready and do it on your terms.”

Geri looked at me for a long time, and then she wrapped herself around me in the tightest hug we’d shared for a long time. “You’re a really fucking good friend. I hope you know that, mate.”

“Thank you. And so are you.” I pulled back and held her face. “Don’t let your guilt eat you up, please. Having kids is hard, but they love you and they’ll understand. Whether it be when they’re older or right away. You don’t need to be worried about anything else.”

I walked home and had the longest, coldest shower I could tolerate. It was unbearably warm again, so when I redressed, I chose the thinnest t-shirt I owned and a pair of denim shorts. Before I left to collect Ruby I tidied up a bit, putting her room in order since she’d left it in such a mess while spending so much time in there. I also put a load of washing on so it’d be ready to hang out and dry when I came back.

When I got to the house on The Square that wasn’t a square, Bongo was the first one to greet me. He seemed less excitable than usual even though he was licking my hand and all up my arm. But he was whining a little.

“Good morning my handsome boy.” I fussed him, more than I usually would in the hopes of cheering him up. “What’s going on, aye? What’s going on? Why’re you crying?”

“He’s been like it all morning, I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” My mother said, appearing from the kitchen.

How odd. I picked him up and cradled him like a baby, his big dopey eyes staring up at me. “What’s happening, aye? What’s got you so down?”

I put him down after a minute of cooing and kisses, and went to hover in the kitchen while my mother did the washing up. “What’s Ruby been like?”

“I haven’t seen her. As soon as she got here yesterday she went straight up to that room and she hasn’t been down since.”

I sighed. “Has she eaten?”

“Nope. Called her down for dinner and breakfast. Nothing. Not a peep.”

“Great. Our conversation yesterday was clearly a waste of time.”

“What did you talk about?”

“It was more shouting than talking. I told her she needed to snap out of whatever this bollocks is and she just kept calling me a liar. I told her about Harry and she said I’m choosing him over her. It’s been, like, two or three weeks, I don’t know how that’s even possible.”

“She’s just being dramatic.”

I sighed again, heavier. “I’ll go and get her, take her out your hair.”

I trudged my way up the stairs, and Bongo followed right behind me, still whimpering. I knocked on Ruby’s door and pushed it open, “Ruby?”

I looked around, expecting to see her on her bed, or in it. But she wasn’t.

“Ruby?” I asked again, peering around the door. 

She wasn’t in there. All her school bags and her uniform were on the floor next to Bongo’s bed, but there was no sign of my daughter in this room.

I tried the bathroom next, since that was logically the next place to go looking. But she wasn’t in there, either.

I called her name again, “Where are you?”

I tried my room, wondering if maybe she wanted to sleep in my bed for a change, but that was as it always was. I tried my parent’s room after that, but that room was also empty.

“Ruby?!”

I suddenly felt very sober.

I ran downstairs and into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” My mother asked, irritated.

“Mamá, ella no está aquí.” Mum, she’s not here, I said breathlessly.

“¿Qué quieres decir con que ella no está aquí?” What do you mean, she's not here?

“¡Quiero decir que Ruby no está aquí! ¡Ella se ha ido!” I mean she’s not here! She’s gone!

The colour drained from my mother’s face.

“Did you check on her before you went to bed?” I asked, and I was panicking. A lot. “Mum?!”

“No, I was still angry with her…”

“And Dad? Did he check? Where is he?”

“He’s gone golfing… but he went alone, I watched him leave.”

“Mamá…” I started crying. “¿Por qué no la miraste antes de irte a la cama?” Why didn’t you check on her before you went to bed? “I know you’re angry and upset but she’s seven years old, Mum! She’s a child! You put your ego aside for shit like this, she’s a baby! She doesn’t know any better!”

“Florence, I’m sorry.”

“Call Dad and tell him to come home.” I said, already leaving.

“Where are you going?!”

“Where the fuck do you think I’m going?!”

I ran, yes ran, back to the house to see if Ruby managed to get home and I’d just missed her. I tore the place up - I undid all my cleaning work and looked through every room in my house to see if she was there, but she wasn’t.

I started knocking on all the doors in the close to see if they’d seen her, but no one had.

“Have you checked the field?” One neighbour asked me. He was a bit of a recluse but he’d always been nice to us. At Christmas he always gave me a bottle of wine and Ruby a chocolate selection. He used to be in the army - he had a trained dog.

I looked out at the field between the houses and I felt sick. “No, I haven’t.”

“You keep knocking on doors, I’ll take Denny out into the field, okay?”

“Thank you,” I blubbered around my tears.

“Do you have something of hers the dog can sniff?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

I ran back to the house and found a teddy from her bed, then left it with him. “Take it with you. If you find her before me I want her to have something familiar.”

The neighbour nodded, and I carried on down the close with my knocking. By the time I reached the end of the road no one had seen her. Not a single person. Wherever Ruby was, she hadn’t come home.

More coming soon!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

[sluttyten]

Bea im really glad you agree w/ me bc when i talk to my irls abt this whole "fat kun" (ive even heard them say it to haechan) shtick, they say im reaching. But the thing is these boys are public figures and i honestly dont think they believe fat people are lesser, im sure they dont! But jokes like these are def harmful, and its rare to find someone who isnt fat acknowledge the harmful effects of fatphobia on the mental health of youth and people on general. Woke queen bea! Im glad u understand

Yes I totally get what you’re saying! Jokes about weight are so harmful. Like everyone has at least one comment someone said to them years ago on any aspect of their appearance that still haunts them and affects the way that they look at themselves. And I’m sure for people who have heard time and again jokes or purposefully harmful jabs about their weight experience a high level of discomfort in their physical appearance like dysmorphia which negatively impacts how they see themselves vs. how they actually look, and it’s awful.

My best friend growing up frequently had her dad tell her that she was fat. He ridiculed her for it and ended up bribing her to lose weight, which in the end probably was best for her, but I think he went about it in an entirely incorrect way. And also she was a kid and would have lost that weight when she started to grow out of her baby fat. I hated the way that he talked to her about her weight. I hate the way my grandma shits on her sister and brother-in-law for their weight and the way she talks to my cousin about hers. My other cousin has dealt with ED sort of, not that my grandma probably knows about that either. I’ve just paid attention over the years to the way that weight is such a factor in how people are viewed and how negatively it can impact a person’s view of themselves and their mental health as they tear themselves apart in an effort to please the rest of the world.

But anyone who needs this listen!! Be fat and happy! Who cares what other people think of you! I promise you that you’re beautiful no matter your weight!

#asks #im so tired of people being fatshamed #especially when theyre not fat!!!! #girls at work are like ugh im so fat look and blah and im like???? youre not fat?? sure theyre not like twiggy thin but i personally think #they look healthy or a little chubby but there’s nothing wrong with that!! its amazing #girls and women are too often made to feel like shit because of their bodies #like its not just girls either there are plenty of boys and men who are hit by this too of course like we’re saying with kun #but we are worth so much more than what men would make of our bodies #we are more than our bodies and the petty things that others poke at your appearance #like yes i am thin so i dont necessarily deserve a voice in conversations like these but ugh #i once wrote a paper for a class that was all about the issues of our society putting the pressure of weight and beauty on young girls #and at least one resource said rhat girls as young as 3 years old are developing EDs which is fucking insane and it only gets worse from #there and i could probably go off for a while but i’m going to cut myself off here

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 22

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Finally, it’s time for everything to come to an end. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of abuse, violence, gore, blood and death. There is weapon use in this chapter.  

The door opened, letting the light shine in again. You didn’t even bother lifting your head. Everything in your body ached. How long have you been here? You weren’t really sure anymore. 

“Breakfast.” The sound of the tray being placed down. 

“Not hungry...” You mumbled, pressing your cheek against your arm as you looked to the side. Then you felt a light nudge against your ankle. That made you lift your head slightly. Instead of sitting at his usual corner, he was sitting opposite you, the tray between you. 

“Eat.” He said. 

“I’m not hungry right now.” 

“Why?” You didn’t even reply to that. You let out a yawn, followed by a sigh. The tray was pushed against your leg again. 

“You’ll need the energy.” He said, undoing the binds around your wrists. You didn’t really understand what he meant but you also didn’t really have the mood to banter today. 

“Eat.” He repeated. When he was done, he stood up straight and headed back to his same spot to sit. You gave him a look, pushing the food around the tray. 

“Thanks...” You murmured and took your first bite. Unlike your other meal chats, you were silent, taking small bites of your food here and there. 

“I’m done.” You pushed the tray away. More than half the tray of food was left. The tray was picked up, followed by retreating footsteps and the door closing. You stared at the wall until you realised. 

He didn’t bind your hands back. 

“What...?” You looked around to see if there was someone else in the room. This wasn’t a trap. You scrambled around until you saw, under the water bottle left behind, a key was hidden.

“Please, please.” You chanted, jamming the key into the keyhole on the ankle brace. When the lock shifted, you almost cried out in relief. 

“Where’s the exit?” You bunched up your skirt, trying your best to tie it together so it wouldn’t hinder you when you run. The first thing you did was press your ear to the door to hear for footsteps. There were no sounds outside but you still poked your head out to look first. The coast was clear so you made a break for it, running down the hallways. 

“Come on.” You panted, trying to find the exit but this place seemed like a maze. You guessed that you were probably in some warehouse, judging by the sheet metal walls and concrete floors. 

“She’s gone!” 

“Find the girl!” 

“This way!” You heard shouts behind you and quickened your pace. But all the hallways looked the same. You just kept running, hoping to find an open door or exit soon. 

“Aish!” Someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you to hide behind another wall. You pressed your back against the wall, seeing two guys run past you. 

“Why are you still here?” The male beside you panted. 

“I couldn’t find the exit. This place is a freaking maze.” You said through gritted teeth. He shook his head. As you were opening your mouth to speak again, he hushed you, taking his pistol out of his holster. 

“Take this.” 

“Are you crazy?! I can’t shoot a gun.” 

“I’m not asking you to go crazy and start shooting up the place. Just use it to get away if you need to. Pull this back, aim and shoot. I’ll buy you some time. The exit is down this hallway, make a right. Now go!” He shoved you in the direction of said exit. You turned to look back. 

“What about you?” You panicked. 

“Just go! I’m buying you time. And I have an extra.” He waved his spare pistol in the air. Even if you wanted your freedom, you were still hesitant. 

“Go and don’t look back.” He said before separating from you. You continued running, shaky hands holding onto the gun by your side. Finally, at the end of the hallway, you saw the door. 

“Please.” When the knob turned, your heart soared. Was this really the thing separating you from your freedom now? 

“Where do you think you’re going?” One of the men stood on the other side of the door. You didn’t have a choice, you lifted the gun. The male took a weary step back. 

“Just let me go. And I won’t shoot.” You threatened. 

“Well...” You saw his hands moving to reach for his weapon. On instinct you clicked the gun and shot his shoulder. He cried out in shock as he went down. 

“Move again and you’re dead.” You held the gun over him as you clicked it into place again. But your victory was short lived when you felt an arm wrap around your neck. You would have thrashed around or try to hit him but you felt the coolness of a blade press against your neck, right where you jugular was. That made you immobile. 

“Drop the gun.” He said into your ear. You were defeated, dropping the weapon onto the ground. 

“Walk.” He pulled you backwards and you followed, your feet shuffling backwards. You watched with longing eyes as the door got further and further. Just like that, whatever light you saw slowly disappeared. 

“Tell boss I found the girl.” He told another person before throwing you back into that room. 

“Oh doctor, you just had to try and escape. That’s cute.” The boss said, circling around you. You panted, lifting your head to shoot him a glare. 

“You even shot one of my men. I’m impressed.” He clapped. 

“But because of you...” The boss waved for the other men to bring in the male who helped you escape. He had been roughed up for sure, his eye was bruised and parts of his face swollen up. 

“Take it out on me. Leave him out of this.” You growled. 

“Aww, isn’t that cute? Both of you fighting to play the hero. But unfortunately, this is a matter of betrayal.” The boss kicked him, making the already injured male groan in pain. He managed to peep open his eyes to make eye contact with you. 

“But first, tell me, boy. Why betray your family? Don’t tell me you have fallen for her charm like those stupid Bangtan boys.” He threw his head back in laughter. 

“Family?” He scoffed but coughed right after, spewing out blood. 

“I took you in, took care of you and provided for you. This is how you repay me?” He began to rain more punches and kicks on the boy, making him wince and moan in more pain. 

“Stop it!” You shouted. 

“Don’t worry, doc. I promise, after this, it’s your turn.” He laughed. That was when he took his gun out, the other men that watched lifted the boy up for their boss to press the barrel of the gun right against his forehead. Your heart sank. This boy didn’t deserve to die for helping you. Now you regretted everything that you ever said to him. 

“Any final words?” The boss asked. 

“It’s all my fault, I never should have...” You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. 

“It’s not your fault... It was me, holding onto the last bit of my independence.” He smiled before a deafening bang sounded through the room. Blood spattered out from the back of his head and onto the wall, the bullet having gone right through. 

“Hasn’t there been one time where you felt that you could never do anything for yourself? Then when you’re given that bit of independence, to finally do something for yourself, that’s all you want to hold onto?”

Those were your words. 

“That was touching.” The boss wiped a fake tear. The body fell forward, a small blood pool forming under his head. You wanted to throw up. 

“Now, as for you, doctor.” The boss turned to you. 

“Just shoot me.” You dared, done with all this. Maybe death was really the better option now.

“Tempting but no can do. I need you here for the final show. And our main guests aren’t even here yet. But don’t worry, you won’t wait too long. I think they’ll be here very soon.” The boss smiled. 

“Rough her up before they come.” The boss told him men before leaving.

“Finally. Payback. After what Jungkook did to me back then.” The petty male landed the first punch, followed by kicks. Usually, you were try to cocoon yourself to protect yourself but you just couldn’t take your eyes off the bleeding body before you. His eyes were still open, staring at you. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him as you cried silently. 

-

“Remember our priority. Get (y/n) out of there. Then we kill the boss.” Namjoon reminded. The 6 boys nodded their heads. They were getting close to finding you and bringing you home. 

“Whoever finds (y/n) first, just take her to one of the cars and get her to the nearest hospital. The rest of us will handle the boss.” Jin said. 

“Let’s go.” They all ran towards the big warehouse. With every other possible hideouts having been search and burnt, this was the only place left. When the men saw them, they immediately got into position, their boss having told them prior to expect the 7. But all the boys saw was red. Bullets were shot and blades were swung. 

“Ugh!” Jimin went down as he was attacked by two men but Taehyung swung his bat, hitting one straight in the head while Jimin drove his sword into the other’s abdomen. 

“Thanks.” Jimin nodded to Taehyung, running forward and jumping to hide slash as a few men. Jungkook tackled some men to the ground.

“We’re wasting time.” Hoseok grunted as he shot someone. Jin used the handle of his gun to knock some guys out. 

“Split up!” Yoongi shouted and they all went their separate directions. 

“Watch my back.” Yoongi said to Hoseok and Jimin as he checked the rooms. They were all empty, except for some storage items. Namjoon and Jin opened a room, where more men of the gang were. That led to more wasted time trying to fight them off. Taehyung and Jungkook moved together. 

“Damn our luck. I hope the others were better than us.” Jin laughed sarcastically as Namjoon punched some men. He reloaded his guns and shot at whoever tried to come at them. 

“Jungkook! Get down!” Taehyung pulled the maknae down. Although they wanted to fight, they had to save energy and ammo. 

“Find them! They’re somewhere around here.” A group of men ran past them. 

BEEP BEEP

“Yoongi hyung’s team found the boss.” Jungkook said as he checked his pager. Once the coast was clear, they moved to the location that was sent to them. The 7 of them met up again. 

“He's in there. I heard the men talking.” Jimin informed. With that, Jungkook backed away slightly before kicking the door down and running in. The boys all stood there, blood staining their clothes. They could feel it, the end of everything was nearing. As they came face to face with their enemy, the one who took you. 

“Welcome.” He smirked from his comfortable spot on the couch. 

“Where is she?!” Jimin pointed his katana at him, the blade merely a few inches from his face. 

“Ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He taunted, waving his hand. That was when you were brought in, kneeling in front of the couch. Your dress was dirtied and you were beaten up, bruises and cuts littering your face and limbs. 

“(y/n)...” Jungkook called out softly. Your eyes were lidded as you swayed dangerously. You were losing consciousness, fast. It was obvious from the dried blood trail on your temple. Even when a pistol was pressed to the back of your head in a threatening manner, you didn’t flinch. The boys took a step forward. 

“One more step...” The boss threatened and the male that held the pistol clicked the gun into place. 

“What do you want?” Namjoon growled. 

“Oh, how great man fall. All for a single woman. Honestly, I couldn’t believe my ears when I was told that the dangerous Bangtan had fallen for a girl, some doctor. That was until I saw it for myself.” He started.

“I wanted to know just what about her was able to bring the 7 of you to your knees. Then, I met her.” He turned to you. 

“I can see why you all adore her.” Using his finger, he lifted your chin. There were a few growls and fist clenches. He side eyed the boys, liking the reaction that he was getting out of them. 

They hated it. They hated the fact that you were right in front of them and yet, they couldn’t save you if they wanted you alive. They hated that they were the reason that you were in this position. You weren’t supposed to be here, you were supposed to be well protected in their house, there to heal them when they got hurt.

“I’ll ask again. What is it you want?” Namjoon asked through gritted teeth. They were all resisting the urge to shoot the man in front of them. 

“The Bangtan empire. You all don’t deserve what you have. You don’t have what it takes to run such an empire when you’re so weak for a mere woman.” The boss said in frustration. 

“That’s it? You want money? Our companies?” Yoongi glared. 

“Sure.” The boss shrugged. The boys were suspicious. There was no way this man went through all this trouble just for their empire. 

“Take it.” Jin said. 

“Also, I might keep the doctor with me. She’s fun to have around. Her skills and feisty attitude would be a great addition to my gang.” He smirked. This man was just playing them now. 

“Over my dead body.” Taehyung sneered. Whatever it is, they were going to make sure that you went home with them today. Alive. 

“Looks like we have a problem then.” The boss grinned. 

“Take one step closer.” Hoseok threatened the few men he saw slowly getting closer. It was obvious that they were waiting for the boys to put their guard down attacking them. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t just want your empire.” The boss shrugged. That had been the goal all along. He wanted to make sure that Bangtan is ended here, permanently. And that he would be the one to end them. Namjoon’s eyes followed the movements of the boss. 

“Unfortunately, you don’t have the upper hand. Unless you want to say goodbye to the doctor.” He smirked at Namjoon. 

“Drop your weapons. Go on.” He commanded. One by one, the boys dropped their weapons. With another wave of the hand, the men moved in on them. The boys grit their teeth, fighting to urge to fight back as they were hit. 

“See? Weak.” The boss scoffed. 

BANG! 

The boys froze, turning around. Everyone else stopped. That was when they saw the man, who was holding the gun to your head, on the ground, dead. You stood shakily, holding the pistol in your hand as you aimed directly at the boss. 

“Next time... remove the dead guy’s extra gun before you leave his body...” You smirked. The boss turned to you.

“Tell them to move back.” You demanded. 

“You wouldn’t dare...” He taunted. You clicked the gun, showing that you weren’t joking. Oh, how to tables have turned. If you managed to shoot the other guy already, you didn’t have a problem killing the boss too. Remembering the boy’s fallen body, it only made you angrier. Sensing your threat wasn’t empty, the boss nodded for his men to fall back. 

“(y/n)...” Jin called out softly. 

“A life for a life.” You pulled the trigger, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you collapsed. Luckily, Jungkook was quick to run over and catch you before you could hit the ground.  

“You did well, leave the rest of us.” He whispered. Your shot didn’t kill the boss, only managing to hit him in the thigh. 

“Get her out of here.” Yoongi said to the maknae. He nodded, running out of the place with you in his arms. 

With their boss down and most likely going to die, the other men just surrendered, putting their hands up. The 6 remaining Bangtan boys stood over the boss, who was writhing on the ground in pain. 

“Tell your girl... The boy that was killed because of her... His name is also Jisung... Just like her dear nephew.” He still managed to force out a laugh. 

“You want our money?” Jin gave the first kick. 

“You want our empire?” Namjoon gave the second. 

“You mess with our girl?” Jimin stepped on his thigh, pushing the bullet further into his flesh. He screamed out, straining. 

“We’ll see you in hell.” Taehyung raised his metal bat, slamming it down. They just watched emotionlessly as Taehyung beat the man’s face in. He coughed, choking on his blood as he tried to crawl away. 

“Where are you going?” Hoseok kicked him back. Imaging all the torture and abuse you went through fuelled their anger. The others killed the other men. 

No one was to be spared. 

“We have to go before the cops come.” Namjoon stopped Taehyung. Taehyung took a step back with a smirk, rubbing away the blood that managed to splatter on his cheek. Yoongi took the gun out that he had brought for good measure. He placed the barrel of the gun right over the man’s chest, clicking it back slowly. With a smile, he pulled the trigger. 

“For good measure.” Jin shrugged with a smile and shot two more bullets. 

“That’s enough. Let’s go. We have more important things to do.” Namjoon waved the gang over. Right now, they should prioritise your condition. Same as always, Yoongi grabbed a lighter, torching the place down. 

“Don’t forget to send a gift to the governor to thank him for putting out all the fires.” Hoseok laughed. Namjoon hummed. 

~~

Ko-fi link

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#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #bts #bts scenarios #bts series #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #poly!bts #bts poly #poly!bts x reader #poly bts #bts mafia au #bts mafia #bts mafia series #mafia #mafia au #mafia bts #mafia!au #mafia!bts #mafia series #ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 bts #bts ot7 #ot7 x you

[wonlouvre]

helllo~~ I just saw that you opened your drabble requests again and I would like to ask if you could write a drabble with Joshua Hong where he and the reader both had a hard day and get into a little fight during dinner but at the end they end up apologizing and cuddling on the couch?🥺 thank you a lot in advance and have a wonderful day!!

peckish | h. js.

pairing: non-idol!joshua x g.n. reader genre: a little bit of angst (they argue), fluff warnings: mentions of food, eating, nitpicking and nagging word count: 1k+

💌: thank you for requesting anon! :’) as usual, i made some changes here and there if you don’t mind. i hope you like it anon! pls tell me what you think about it <3

You and Joshua decided to move in together during the second year of your relationship. The memory of you discussing that particular stage of your relationship is still fresh in your memories. Funnily enough, moving in together was more about being practical rather than being romantic. Your apartment was both far from your job and him. It’s not that you wouldn’t go the distance for your boyfriend, but the frequent two hour travels are tiring and the cost of living is still getting more and more expensive as the days go by. 

If your memories serve you right, it was around two months later when the two of you found the perfect unit. It was awkward and annoying during the first few months. You two were navigating through the ups and downs of living together 24/7. You both have the tendency to nitpick and nag over the smallest of things incessantly. Once one of you starts, the other follows and it’s not cute. 

But along the way, the two of you got the hang of it. Not for the sake of just coexisting but you two reached a compromise without hurting or disregarding each other’s feelings. You talked through it and respected each other’s concerns, complaints, wants and needs.

And now, there’s only about a week left and you’d be celebrating five years as a couple and  three years of living together.  

Petty arguments still happened and are still happening occasionally, but you guys do your very best to not let it get the best of you. And speaking of arguments, on this one particular tiring day, another one is budding.

“I told you not to put tomatoes,” you complain under your breath while poking your fork on the meal your dearest boyfriend cooked for dinner. “I’ve told you this countless times before and until now. Do you even listen to what I say?”

Joshua continues to eat, completely unbothered. “And I told you before to put your socks on the hamper after every use and yet we’re still here. Who’s not listening now?”

The tomato is red which is very similar to how you’re registering the dining table now. Blood is even rushing to your face and you can feel the heat. Your grip on the fork loosens and you drop it on the plate, a loud clunk booming across the quiet room. 

“Are you serious? You're doing this to me over socks?” You question and glare at Joshua’s  handsome face. 

Joshua also stops eating and picks up the napkin beside his plate to wipe his lips clean. “Y/N, you’ve never complained about the tomatoes I put on our meals because you know it’s part of the recipes. Why are you suddenly whining about them?”

You are so irritated, you can hear your heart pounding on your chest. Tears are starting to line your eyes and you could cry anytime now. You get like this when you’re having a bad day. Work and the people you work with have not been the kindest today and you were hoping a nice warm meal with your boyfriend could help ease your stress and anger. 

“I’m complaining about them because I don’t like them and I’m awfully tired and just want to eat something,” you say before standing up. 

You don’t want Joshua to see you crying over this because you yourself find this embarrassing and unnecessary to argue about. Who knows? Maybe Joshua is also having a bad day and seeing the socks you forgot to remove from your shoes must have ruined his day further. 

“Y/N,” your boyfriend calls for you, his voice tired but still gentle. “Where are you going? You haven’t finished eating.”

“I’m not that hungry anymore,” you say and finally walk off to your shared bedroom.

You know you should have put those socks on the hamper. You had every intention to do so. It’s just that you were in desperate need to shower the day away and take a short nap before your boyfriend comes back home and have dinner with him. You always listen to Joshua and his reminders and you know he’s no different. You just thought he wouldn’t see or at least he could have let it pass just this one time.

But then again, no matter how many excuses and rebuttals the two of you make, it was still wrong for you and him to take your anger out on each other. 

The moment you left Joshua alone at the dining table, regret immediately started to eat you up. It felt terrible, you could feel it in your stomach grumbling and heart clenching. You take a breather and wash your frustrations away. After not more than fifteen minutes later, you silently and carefully tread back to the kitchen, where your boyfriend is washing the dishes alone. 

You did not hesitate to walk closer to him and circle your arms around his waist. Joshua jumps a little, surprised by your touch but doesn’t move away and just continues with what he was doing. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, words muffled because your face is snuggled to his back. “I’ll put my socks on the hamper next time.”

You know Joshua’s silently smiling and laughing with how he’s upper body is shaking. Just right then, the water stops from running and he’s turning around to face you. You keep your arms on his waist and lean your chin up to his chest, where you can feel his heartbeat. He’s smiling at you when he leans down to kiss your forehead, long and sweet. 

“Let me wash up so that we can go to bed. How’s that sound?” Joshua offers and you can never be more than happy. 

Your bedroom and bed is the best place in this apartment (Joshua thinks it’s the kitchen but you’re not having it at the moment). It’s warm and cozy. It’s even warmer and cozier when your boyfriend is with you on it. You’re so blessed and grateful to always begin and end the day with him.

“I’m sorry about the tomatoes,” Joshua says against the top of your head and  tugs you closer to his chest. “I’ll try to be discreet about adding them next time I cook.”

You can’t help but giggle, nuzzling your nose to his warm chest. “It’s okay. I’ll just set them aside or give them to you.”

“Bad day, huh?” 

“Yeah. You too?”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry baby,” you apologize again and kiss the side of his neck. “I’ll cook you breakfast tomorrow.”

“Stop apologizing.” Joshua jokingly glares, but fails anyway because his eyes just sparkle all the time. He kisses your forehead for the nth time in return. “I want pancakes please.”

“Noted.” You keep his request in mind right at the moment you start to yawn.

“I love you always,” Joshua says wholeheartedly.

“I love you always,” you also say, wholeheartedly.

#seventeen #joshua #hong joshua #joshua hong #seventeen scenarios #joshua scenarios #seventeen scenario #joshua scenario #seventeen drabbles #joshua drabbles #seventeen drabble #joshua drabble #seventeen fluff #joshua fluff #seventeen fanfic #joshua fanfic #seventeen imagines #joshua imagines #seventeen imagine #joshua imagine #seventeen joshua #joshua seventeen #svt #drabble: adore u #drabble: peckish

[kuroopaisen]

show off || kuroo tetsurou

➵ nekoma wants proof that their beloved manager and their scheming captain are actually together. for better or worse, your boyfriend is a petty little shit.

wc: 2.5k

warnings: f!reader, the mildest of sexual references 

a/n: thank you once again to ren for beta’ing this :( this was written with the in-between in mind, but it can absolutely be read as a stand-alone! 

“Oi, Tetsu.”

“Hm?” He leaned down to get his face level with yours – a little closer than it should be.

You shoved him away by his shoulder, glaring at him. “You know, you’ve been doing a terrible job at being subtle.”

He grinned, straightening up and ruffling your hair. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” You asked, eyes flicking over to the rest of the team. The two of you were courtside as Kuroo took a quick ‘water break.’ You had a feeling that his increasingly frequent breaks were less about keeping his hydration up, and more about gazing at you with a touch too much affection. 

“What, telling them we’re together?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Sh!”

He chuckled, resisting the urge to poke your nose. “You think we shouldn’t tell them?” He smirked. “Ever?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just that… you know. The gym isn’t exactly neutral ground.”

He snorted. “Neutral ground, huh?”

“You know what I mean,” you huffed.

“Can’t say I do.” 

“You’re so mean,” you whined. If you were alone, you might’ve buried your face in his chest. But, you couldn’t really do that now. 

“I’m sorry,” he grinned, ruffling your hair yet again. “But we should tell them. And soon.” 

You pouted at him, trying to make your eyes as endearing as you could manage. 

“Nice try,” he chuckled. “But not gonna work.” 

“Can we at least tell them when the coaches are gone?” You frowned petulantly, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “That’ll make it a tad less embarrassing.”

“Ashamed to be with me?” Kuroo grinned, raising an eyebrow at you.

“No! I just—”

“I know,” he cooed, his fingers finding their way to the your shoulders and giving them a gentle massage. You would’ve melted into that touch, had you been alone.

“What did I say about being subtle?” You glared, but made no effort to whack his arms away. 

“Gotta go,” he smirked, tossing his bottle at you before dashing for the court. You had half a mind to call after him, but you thought better of it. 

You conceded, propping yourself against the wall as you glared at your obnoxiously tall boyfriend as subtly as you could. 

Practice was over much too quickly. You’d almost wanted it to go on forever, given what you were about to do. You knew you had to tell your kids at some point, but the thought was still frightening. What would they think? Would they disapprove? 

Kuroo had said it was better to tell them sooner rather than later, and you’d begrudgingly agreed. It’d be worse if you just kept putting it off, and you were sure your kids would feel like that was a betrayal. 

But the logic of it didn’t stop you from being any less nervous. 

So when everyone was packing up and the coaches had made their exit, Kuroo ambled over to you with a concerned look on his face. 

“You sure you’re okay to tell them tonight?” Kuroo asked, tilting his head at you. 

He was far too good at reading your emotions. Perceptive bastard. 

You nodded, casting your eyes to your kids. “Yeah.”

“We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to,” he murmured, zipping up his bag. “At least, not here.” 

“It’s okay,” you smiled, trying to quell the hammering in your chest. “It’s like ripping the bandaid off, right?”

Kuroo snorted. “Really? That’s what you’re going to equate our relationship to?” 

“Not our relationship, but—” 

He held back a cackle as he stood up, turning to face the rest of the team.  

“Everyone!”

The other boys turned to look at him, expressions ranging from confusion to annoyance. 

“So,” Kuroo said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You took a deep breath as you tried to look as unbothered as possible. “We have some important news for you.”

“You’ve actually become a competent captain?” Yaku snorted. 

“Great guess, but no,” Kuroo grinned, looking at you. “We… are finally together.”

“Huh?” Lev tilted his head to the side, looking between the two of you. “Together?”

“Yes,” Kuroo nodded slowly. “Together… romantically.”

“You’re dating?” Inuoka blinked, looking between the two of you.

Kuroo resisted the urge to sigh. “Yes. We’re dating.”

“No way,” Yaku shook his head. “Nuh uh. No way you grew balls and asked her out.”

“Who said I asked her out?” Kuroo gasped, looking down at you.

“She’s too good for you,” Kenma shrugged. Some nods rippled through the rest of the team, the general consensus being one of agreement. You bit back a laugh. That, at least, made you feel a little less nervous.

Kuroo stared at him for a moment, looking between his once-trusted childhood friend and you. 

“Then how do you explain this?” Kuroo asked, gesturing between the two of you, pointing specifically to the arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Explain what?” Lev asked, tilting his head at the two of you. 

“Well, this is… a thing couples do,” Kuroo murmured, bewilderment working its way into his expression. 

“Not necessarily,” Lev piped up. “I put my arm around her all the time!” 

“Trust me, I know,” Kuroo seethed, pulling you a little closer. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too widely. Kuroo had never said that Lev’s affection towards you was a problem, but you had caught your boyfriend pouting in your general direction whenever the younger boy got a little bit too close. 

“So… you don’t believe me at all?” Kuroo frowned, looking between all the faces in front of him. 

“Nuh uh.” Several of the boys shook their heads. 

“But… why would we both be standing here, telling you all that we’re dating?” Kuroo asked, trying to grasp at some logical argument. You could tell that his frustration was already growing. You, on the other hand, were having a great time. 

“You offered to pay her five thousand yen,” Yamamoto shrugged. “Only scenario that makes sense.”

“She’s right here, you know.” Kuroo jerked his head at you. 

“Did he offer to pay you, like, five thousand yen or something?” Yamamoto asked, looking you dead in the eye.

“Yes.” You were nervous – but teasing Kuroo seemed like the perfect outlet. 

Kuroo’s head whipped around to look at you, aghast.

You grinned up at him.

“Sorry,” Yaku shrugged, taking a large swig of water. “We’re not just going to believe you without proof.” 

“Oh?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “So you want proof, then?”

The team looked amongst themselves, nodding. “Yeah, actually. We do.”

“I see,” Kuroo hummed, turning to face you. You complied, a small knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. What was he planning to do?

You caught a glimpse of Kenma’s face. Anticipatory discomfort. Oh, no. 

Kuroo’s hands came up to cup your face, as they had many times this month. But, you trusted him; he wouldn’t do anything to make you comfortable. At least, not without checking with you first. 

He leant in, his breath tickling your ear. “Can I?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You knew the team was watching with rapt attention. And you knew that your boyfriend could be a petty little shit.

His lips met yours as he moved his hands to your waist, holding you flush against his body. Your arms found their way around his neck instinctively as you stood on your tiptoes, leaning against him for balance.

Oh.

He meant business.

He hummed, parting your lips with his. Of course he wouldn’t just go for a chaste peck. But, you’d let him get away with it this time.

Your face was burning; you were barely used to him touching you like this in private, let alone in front of your entire team. But you weren’t about to stop him. Your kids said they wanted proof, after all.

You weren’t sure who started it. But someone started screeching.

You could hear Lev screaming, shouting something about ‘betrayal.’ Yamamoto was full-on hollering, the sound ringing through the gym. Was the screeching… Fukunaga, then?

“Alright, that’s enough!” Yaku bellowed, grabbing Kuroo by the collar and yanking him away from you. Kuroo cackled as he stumbled back, arms still reaching out for you.

“You are disgusting,” Yaku cawed, looking between the two of you.

“You said you wanted proof!” Kuroo snickered, hands on his knees as he keeled over.

“Yeah, proof!” Yamamoto shouted. “Not a demonstration.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kuroo snorted, stumbling towards you. You reached out for him, planting your hands on his shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Inuoka held up a hand, looking between the two of you with wide eyes. “How long has this been going on?”

“Yeah!” Yaku huffed, hands on his hips. “How long have you been keeping this from us?”

“None of your business,” Kuroo grinned, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You laughed, letting yourself fall against him.

“They’ve been dating for about a month,” Kenma murmured, hands dug deep in his pockets. If he felt any remorse for outing you two like that, he didn’t show it. 

“A month?” Various sounds of indignation rose up in a racket, and you knew that you had a lot to answer for. 

“You!” Yaku gasped, pointing a finger at you. “You’re complicit in this!”

“Sorry,” you giggled, slipping your arms around Kuroo’s waist. Even you had to admit that the look of absolute betrayal on the boys’ faces was pretty priceless. 

“Aren’t you happy for us?” Kuroo snorted, looking between the team. “Your beloved manager and your captain—”

“Of course we are,” Kai chuckled, raising a hand. “We’re just surprised.” 

“I, for one, thought you had better taste,” Yaku grumbled, jabbing a finger at you. 

“Look, dumbass—” 

“If you’re dating him out of pity, blink twice,” Yamamoto asked, looking you straight in the eye. 

“Don’t you dare,” Kuroo huffed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Another round of yells from your kids, mostly consisting of ‘gross!’ and ‘get a room!’ 

You elbowed Kuroo in the stomach swiftly before he could say ‘oh, we intend to.’

As Kuroo continued to gloat about his relationship to a wailing Yamamoto, you began apologising profusely to Lev and Yaku. 

Kai, bless his heart, was doing his best to help you contain the chaos, but to no avail. 

Kenma had very decidedly kept himself out of it, instead absorbing himself in whatever game he was playing on his phone.

 Poor Inuoka still looked confused, but Shibayama was so red in the face that he had to be cognizant of what was going on. 

Fukunaga and Teshiro just watched on, one amused and the other bewildered. 

Somehow, after all that mayhem, you managed to calm the racket down. One by one, everyone began to make their way home. 

You personally wanted to get into the warmth of a home as soon as possible, cold as a winter night in Tokyo could be. 

As usual, you and Kuroo walked with Kenma. The only difference these days was that now you and Kuroo walked hand in hand. Kenma had been the first person to find out about your relationship, and much to your relief, it hadn’t changed how he interacted with the two of you. 

If anything, he seemed quietly grateful that it gave him an opportunity to rag on Kuroo. 

“That was childish of you,” Kenma sighed, his hands dug in his pockets as the three of you trudged down the street. 

“They were insulting my honour,” Kuroo grinned, placing a hand to his chest. The other was wrapped firmly around one of yours. 

Kenma gave him that look, the one that’d make anyone crumple up and feel like a total idiot. But Kuroo was undeterred, that childish grin of his growing bigger. 

“What was I supposed to do? Let them tell me that my girlfriend is too good for me?”

“Your girlfriend is too good for you.”

“Thank you, Kenma,” you beamed, peeking around your boyfriend to catch a glimpse of the second year. 

“The disrespect!” Kuroo scoffed. “To think, I put so much time and effort into being a good captain, and this is–”

“Goodnight,” Kenma cut in, waving a hand at the two of you. You looked over to see that you’d arrived at his house without even noticing. Kenma scuttled towards his front door, hunched over like a little gremlin with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“Don’t stay up too late!” Kuroo called after him. “And make sure you eat a good dinner!”

Kenma shot him a dithering look, but Kuroo remained undeterred. 

“And don’t play video games after ten! It’s bad for your eyes!” 

Kenma said nothing as he shut his front door with a resounding ‘thud.’ 

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who turned to you with a grin. 

“He’ll thank me one day.” 

“You sure?” You smiled. 

“He may not say it,” Kuroo tsked, “but I know he’s grateful deep down.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, but he knew you didn’t mean it. He gave your hand a squeeze as he stepped forward. 

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he sighed, his breath billowing in a little cloud in front of him. 

“Wait,” you said, tugging on his hand. 

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a question.” 

“Huh?” He tilted his head at you, his nose a little red and shiny from the cold. 

“Can I come over?” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze.  

Kuroo gazed at you for a moment, his heart thrumming in his chest. It wasn’t a strange question, or one that should’ve given him reason to pause. But he still wasn’t used to this sort of thing. To you asking to hang out with him, all of your feelings out in the open. He got to spend time with you without having to hold things so close to his chest that it hurt. You could do everything together, now; talk, laugh, tease, kiss. And somehow, that was all wrapped up in one little question.

“You just want to see my grandma,” he grinned. Sure, he felt all that sentimentality, but he wasn’t about to say it. 

“Oh, of course,” you nodded. “And don’t forget the dog.” 

He looked at you, your cheeks bitten red by the cold on this early December evening, your eyes shining with a pure and wholesome joy. The warmth of your hand was tucked safely in his, your bodies pressed together as you walked down the street. There was no strange tension between you anymore. No fear that either of you might ruin this precious thing you shared. 

“I guess I can live with that.” He smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. 

He’s just happy. Content. Maybe even blissful. 

And for the second time in the past five minutes, Kuroo found himself at the mercy of his own fondness. He gazed at you, the softest of smiles on his face. 

He really was lucky to have you. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined, pressing your face against his arm in an attempt to hide it. 

“Like what?”

“Like… Like…” You grasped at the words, trying to think of anything that wasn’t some form of ‘like you love me.’ You gave up pretty quickly. “Like that!” 

You may not have said those words, but Kuroo knew you well enough to glean what you really meant. 

“I’m your boyfriend!” He chuckled, leaning back and tucking an arm around your waist. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” you whined, covering your face with your gloved hands. “It’s just… you… you’re embarrassing me!” 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. God, you really were too cute. “Let’s go home.” 

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo tetsurou #anyway i missed him #the in between

[seokiie]

𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝙼)

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 (𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯) 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2𝘬+

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘴' 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵

It wasn't every day that you were invited out to a dinner party.

It wasn't every day that Jungkook himself invited you out to a dinner party.

As soon as you'd gotten the call, you searched through your closet for your nicest dress. It just so happened that your nicest dress was also your skimpiest. Welp, you had plenty of cardigans you could wear.

The reason Jungkook inviting you out to a dinner party was such a rare deal was simply because he liked keeping his work life and personal life separate. During the duration of your year-long relationship, you'd only ever met his six other bandmates three times. Three times. Of course, you knew it was in his best interest to keep you as far away from his busy idol life as possible. You only really met up in private to avoid prying cameras and invasive fans. He was also a bit possessive and uncharacteristically jealous for someone as hot as himself. He's always said things like, 'you're mine, don't even think about looking at other men'. You never had any complaints, though - a possessive Jungkook never failed to set your skin on fire.

"Wah, this is what you're wearing? You're really trying to make dinner difficult for me, huh." Jungkook looks up at you as you slide into the booth next to him, a wide smirk on his face. You'd arrived at the fancy restaurant via private car. It was safer if no one saw you arrive. When you're seated at the table with the seven men, you look around and realize that the whole establishment is empty, not counting the few bodyguards and waiters littered around.

"I couldn't find anything else under the lines of 'fancy but not too fancy, but still fancy enough for a fancy restaurant'." You laugh quietly and scoot closer to him till your thighs were just barely touching. You haven't seen him in almost three weeks. He had a busy schedule along with some overseas promos but you're just glad he's finally back.

"Regardless you look fucking delicious- I mean, that isn't quite appropriate for this setting..." You watch as his eyes roam over your frame hungrily. A familiar warmth curls through your body when a big hand covers your bare thigh. "You look fucking delightful."

"Ah, look at our Jungkookie! He's flirting, cute." Jimin giggles from where he's sat on the other side of Jungkook. You and a few of the other members laugh. Jungkook can't help laughing as well.

The dinner carries on nicely. You'd been a bit nervous at first because you didn't know the other members too well, but it seems you were nervous for no reason. Hoseok in particular managed to break you out of your shell the most with his antics and smiley demeanor. Somehow just sitting across from him made you excited.

A few minutes after placing orders, some appetizers are brought out while dinner is being made. While you were drifting between quiet and sociable, you weren't too fond of the fact that Jungkook had only said two sentences to you over the past thirty minutes - and that was when you arrived. Maybe you were just being overly clingy. You weren't gonna lie, you were pretty touch starved after going Jungkook-free for a couple of weeks.

You place a hand on his leg, just above his knee under the table. You were rightfully seeking attention in your opinion.

He doesn't seem to notice the hand on his leg and continues his conversation with Seokjin who was sitting across the table. Fine. You'd turn it up a notch.

"Y/n, it's been so long since we saw you. It's been three months I think." You look up to meet eyes with whoever was talking to you. It was Hoseok.

"Oh, yeah! I know how busy you guys are. You all work so hard."

"Ah, we try. By the way, if you're comfortable, you can talk casually. We've known each other long enough... even if we don't talk often." Hoseok gives a warm smile and you're dully aware of Jungkooks thigh tensing under your hand slightly. When you look over, he seems to still be conversing with Jin. You smirk.

"If it's alright with you. I heard working overseas was stressful, I was so worried when Jungkook called me..." You continue talking to Hoseok for a bit.

Jungkook was doing a good job ignoring the conversation going on to his right, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little frustrated. He knows he shouldn't get mad at his friend talking casually to his girlfriend but come on. Everyone knew he had a little green monster sitting on his shoulder, especially you.

It isn't until he feels your almost searing hand crawl up his thigh that he fully grasps the situation. You knew he had a little green monster sitting on his shoulder. You knew this and you were talking to his hyung casually while touching him deliberately under the table. Did you want his attention that bad?

Sometimes Jungkook seriously wondered how his relationship with you worked out because you were so petty and holy shit, he was petty, too. So, so petty. If this was a game, he was not going to back down. He'd make sure you wouldn't get an ounce of his attention tonight.

That proves easier said than done because not only five minutes later, your hand is rubbing teasingly slow up and down his thigh, dangerously close to where his cock is nestled safely inside his dress pants.

Jungkook barely notices the way his legs open a little wider, inadvertently asking for more of your touch. Whatever Seokjin was talking about, Jungkook can't remember. Half his brain was focusing on trying not to get hard and the other half was trying to keep a straight face. Luckily, he was a good actor.

His dick? Not so much.

A minute passes before the teasing stops and suddenly there's a hand palming him through his designer clothes. Mid-sentence, he cuts himself off with a gasp. It's been so long since someone has touched him - since he's touched himself.

"You okay, Jungkook?" Jimin asks from beside him and Jungkook has no choice but to twist his startled expression into a small smile.

"Fine, just hungry. Can't wait for the food to come out." Jimin makes a sound of agreement. Thankfully, he doesn't hold his attention for long. Jimin turns back around to continue talking to Namjoon after giving him a concerned look. As soon as he's sure there are no eyes on him, Jungkook grabs your arm tightly and yanks you closer to him a little too roughly. This wasn't entirely uncommon. Jungkook was really, really strong and sometimes he forgot that he was... really, really strong. He had the tendency to drag you around and expressed guilt a few times thinking he's hurt you. In reality, it wasn't too bad and for some reason, you kind of enjoyed having Jungkook jerk you around. Especially in bed.

"Fuck do you think you're doing?" Jungkook says in a tone you can only describe as yelling as quietly as he can. His lips just barely ghosted over the shell of your ear and in an attempt to regain authority, you rub him a little harder through his pants, digging your palm slightly into the obvious bulge forming there. You can feel his cock twitch under your hand and he bites back a gasp.

"Nothing." You comment almost nonchalantly.

"Do you want to die? I'll give you a chance to let go, maybe I'll go easy on you when we get home." Jungkook hisses in your ear and now it's your turn to bite back a gasp. Negligent of his proposition, you continue touching him. Surprisingly, he had managed to get fully hard already, his cock having thickened up and now left a visible mark in his pants.

"Ah, foods here. Jungkook, your steak." At the sound of his name, Jungkook lets go of your arm almost as if your skin burned him. Seokjin takes the plates from the waiter and hands them to the respective member with Namjoon's help. Your food is placed in front of you but you barely pay any attention to it. How could you when there was a way better meal sitting right next to you?

The dinner continues like this for a bit. You stop touching him for a little while, waiting till he lets his guard down and brings a fork full of steak up to his mouth before returning your hand to his clothed length. He lets out a surprised, almost choked out moan only to slap a hand over his mouth. You have to hold back a snigger.

"Kookie, you sure you're okay?" Taehyung is looking at the maknae expectantly now, humor evident in his tone.

"Mmh!" Jungkook chokes back another moan when your hand unzips his dress pants and dips past the material. Why was he so sensitive all of a sudden? "'m alright! I'm- this steak, mmh, it's so good..."

"Is it really that good? Maybe I should've ordered that one..." Taehyung pouts slightly before poking at his salad. Whenever they went out to eat, Taehyung would order the coolest sounding thing on the menu, end up disappointed, then it would result in him eating the other member's food. Of course, they all happily offered to feed their precious Taehyungie - things like this always worked out in the end.

You continue your assault under the table, getting accustomed to Jungkook's length after weeks apart. There's a familiar curl of warmth under your skin when your thumb brushes over the thick head of his cock, his boxers wet with precum. How was he leaking already? The Jungkook you knew prided himself for being able to last almost five hours in bed, yet here he was, keening, thick and hard, dripping with precum after a little bit of fondling through his pants. There's a distinct feeling of power that flows through your blood at that thought.

"Hm, Jungkookie? Is it really that good?" You say quietly enough that only the man next to you can hear. Your tone was awfully smug and Jungkook didn't like that at all, not one bit.

"I'm going to fucking wreck you later, do you understand? Doing- shit- doing something like this in public? Ah, I didn't peg you as an exhibitionist." Jungkook's legs open a little wider and you really can't tell if it's subconscious or if he's doing it on purpose. Either way, it was clear he was enjoying it just as much as you were.

"I didn't peg you as an exhibitionist. You're so hard..." You say in awe. At some point during this whole encounter, you'd managed to forget just exactly why you were doing this. To be completely honest, you didn't really care.

"Wait, hah, y/n-ah..." Jungkook sputters out as quietly as he can. He had one hand on the edge of the lavish wooden table, gripping it with so much force his knuckles were turning white. You ignore his quiet pleas and instead slide your fingers over the sensitive vein that bulged on the side of his cock. You recognized it almost immediately even if you couldn't see it. Why wouldn't you recognize it - especially when you'd dragged your tongue over it so many times before. It never failed to make him go crazy.

"Y/n-ah, seriously... it's too- you're gonna-" Jungkook's legs open a bit more, his body aching for more stimulation as he bucked his hips up slightly. His cock twitches strenuously and before you can even think to pull your hand away, he's coming hard into his boxers.

Almost perfectly timed, his hand slips on the table and he knocks his wine glass over, spilling expensive alcohol all over the fancy wood and all over Taehyung's salad. The clanging of the glass on the table along with the way everyone gasps in shock overshadows the throaty moan that Jungkook lets out. He couldn't restrain it even if he tried.

"Ah, my salad!" Taehyung curses despite the fact he hasn't touched the salad more than once since it was served. Hoseok laughs at Jungkook's clumsiness and Taehyung's waterboarded salad.

"You weren't eating it anyway." Namjoon rolls his eyes and raises his hand to get the attention of a waiter. "Can we get some napkins? Or paper towels, please?"

As Namjoon and Jimin make an attempt to wipe up some of the spilled wine, you remove your hand from your boyfriend's pants. His cum had soaked through his boxers and there was a majority of it on your fingers. You didn't mind one bit.

Jungkook's eyes are far away for a moment as he comes down from the high of his first orgasm in weeks. As soon as his vision clears, you make sure the first thing he sees is you cleaning his cum off your fingers with your tongue. His eyes darken impossibly.

"I leave for a few weeks and this is what you do? You can't even wait till we're alone? The audacity of this girl." Jungkook mumbles, dialect peaking through. He quickly zips up his dress pants and he shivers at the uncomfortable feeling of cum in his boxers. He needed to get home and change asap.

"And you're laughing about it, too?" You giggle and nod. He sucks his teeth.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd wreck you, princess." An almost sinister smirk pulls at Jungkook's lips and your smile all but falls. "Clearly, I need to give you some obedience training."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[© seokiie]

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

#bts #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungguk #bts smut #bts imagines #kpop smut #bts scnarios #bts reactions #kpop imagines #bts fanfic #networkbangtan #purplearmynet #kpop reactions #jungkook x you #jungkooknet #jungkook x reader #jungkook details #jungkook hot #jeongguk imagine #jungkook x y/n #golden maknae #rude #bts jeon jeongguk #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #bts fluff

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[inkstaineddove]

Man as Mirror

Ships: PruAus if you wish; background PruHun and FraAus

Characters: Roderich, Gilbert; mentioned Erzsi + Francis

Summary: Arriving home early from Paris, Roderich encounters a shirtless Gilbert in his kitchen, leading them to have a conversation Roderich could've gone without.

Vienna, 1774.

Once his carriage safely rolled to a stop, Austria stepped out of it and stretched. While even he could not deny the beauty of Paris, nothing pleased the heart quite like home. Servants rushed about him, ushering in his extensive luggage. Sidestepping away from them, he gazed up at the early-morning sky and allowed himself the luxury of taking it all in. The fading purple of night, the sun shyly poking its face out through his hedges, and the birds singing their daily hymns. Truly, there was nowhere quite like home.

Feeling sufficiently uplifted, he entered the home and mindlessly made his way up the stairs. He froze once his hand hovered above the doorknob to his bedroom. He had been burned once before doing this and while, thankfully, all other parties had been asleep, the event had caused him enough mental anguish to power him through another three decades. Still, the desire to change out of his travel clothes was nigh impossible to dismiss. Leaning an ear against the door, his decision was made for him when he heard something like a moan come from Erzsébet. Changing could wait.

All remnants of his good mood dissipated as he silently grumbled to himself about their guest. While it certainly came as no surprise – Erzsébet did this every time he was out of town and, honestly, Roderich had grown to expect it – but hearing them was different. Sure, he was no fool and they made no effort to pretend but having indisputable proof of their trysts was another. Roderich was cursed to have found a spouse and enemy full of cunning. He noted that, if the two of them ever put their powers to good use, he’d have to compliment them for it. For now, while he was their target, any appreciation was out of the question.

He felt his body yearning for caffeine and knew what the next item on his agenda must be. Still lost in his thoughts, he was completely caught off guard at the sight of a bare-chested Gilbert standing over the kitchen counter. It was comical, really, watching such a brutish man delicately pour cream into two dainty mugs, mentally measuring out the right amounts. Roderich stood back and watched the whole performance in domesticity, studying the man before him as he never had before. The way his back and shoulder muscles shifted with each movement; how he never slouched even when it would be far more comfortable to; how the whole time, he never stopped humming marches to himself.

This scene felt too intimate and Roderich understood that he was not its intended audience. What he needed most from his rival now was hostility and not misguided fantasies of marital bliss. He cleared his throat and stepped into Gilbert’s line of sight. “For me? How sweet of you.” He snatched the mug closest to him and added in his usual five spoonsful of sugar. He held up a finger when he felt Gilbert gearing up to protest. “She’s still asleep. Besides, no one likes waking up to cold coffee. It sets such a tone for the day.”

They settled into a tense silence, neither one wanting to acknowledge the other. It was childish, Roderich understood, but failing to will the other out of his existence was better than devolving into petty insults or a physical altercation. And, if he ignored all rational thoughts, he didn’t even care. When around each other, what else were they but ancient children? There was no reason for them to speak, why invent one?

“Paris again? How many times have you been there over the last three months?” There almost appeared to be a hint of affectionate teasing in Gilbert’s words.

Roderich turned to face him and was surprised to find Gilbert already observing him with mild interest. What a strange morning, one he wished he could find some escape in by returning to bed but felt certain would provide him with no real escape. If anything, the pair would wake him up and demand he leave his own damn bed for another room, that’s how selfish they were. Against his will, he felt himself noticing the strength in Gilbert’s body, all broad shoulders and muscle, the physique of the ideal warrior. All suddenly clicked on why Roderich always found himself flat on his ass whenever they’d begin to trade blows. His arrogance had blinded him to the fact that imperial power mattered little when they weren’t trying to kill each other on the battlefield. With biceps like that, his only chance to get the upper hand would be a swift kick to the groin, which even at his worst he was too principled to resort to.

He was brought back to reality when Gilbert began snapping his fingers in his face. “Jesus, has anyone ever told you how creepy that staring thing you do is? Like you were trying to undress me with your eyes.” He straightened up and shivered. “Commission a portrait, it’ll last longer.”

“Please, don’t be so crass. This,” Roderich flippantly pointed to Gilbert’s outfit, “is already enough. If I imagined you in any less, I’d be ill for at least a month.”

Gilbert smirked as he took a sip. “Funny, most people have the opposite reaction.” He leaned his hips back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how much more stalling can you do? What’s kept you in Paris so much? I don’t recall most treaties taking that much time to…hammer out.” He bit his lip, trying to suppress his snickering.

“It’s rude to talk work at breakfast.” Austria couldn’t be bothered to mask his irritation. Things such as ‘politeness’ and ‘civility’ always seemed to go to waste on Prussia. “And, if you’re fishing for what’s in our agreement, you’ll have no such luck from me. You’re wasting your time.”

“You think I give a damn about what’s on a fucking piece of paper? As if I’d be wasting my time on that. I don’t know who blabs more for the right price, your officials or France’s.” Gilbert’s demeanor was too casual. “Most of the time, we don’t have to go to those damn meetings anyways. We’re little more than decorations, the bureaucrats have everything written before they even breathe a word to us. We know that, they know that. There are always ulterior motives for our little business trips. Whenever I come here, I tell my current minder I’ll be off doing a diplomatic something-or-other in Vienna for a week, don’t wait up.  They buy it even though they know the real reason I come to this shrine of gaudy antiques.”

“Your point, Gilbert?”

“My point is that you’re no different. Sure, you tell everyone that you’re renegotiating this or that little detail and maybe your officials believe it. And you tell it to Erzsi, and she believes it since it’s easier than thinking the husband she loathes so much is just as miserable as her. And maybe you believe it too because you have to lie to yourself first to lie to everyone else. But you can’t fool me.”

The whole time he spoke, Roderich was staring down into the contents of his mug. When all was quiet between them was when he finally looked up, laughing. “You must be desperate if you’re begging to get a morsel of gossip on me from me.”

Gilbert scoffed. “I’m not fishing for gossip. If I was, I would’ve gone through your letters while you were gone. And, before you ask, I’ve never done that. Not for lack of trying, I’m just not good at picking locks.”

The vein behind Roderich’s left eye began pulsating. He rubbed his temple gingerly, wincing. “I think I prefer it when you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Why the annoying younger brother schtick?”

“Maybe I’m making up for lost time.” For added emphasis, Gilbert made sure to loudly schlurp down a sip. Roderich’s wince at such a noise caused him to snort some coffee out his nose. Wiping it away, he grinned. “Or maybe I just want you to stop thinking you’re any better than me. Get you when you’re unguarded.”

“There’s a glaring hole in your plan. You’ve forgotten that I would never allow myself to be so vulnerable around you, no matter what time of day it is.” He mockingly shook his head, tutting. “I understand that, for now, we’re officially getting along just fine, but don’t mistake that for camaraderie. The first chance either of us gets, we’ll be back to stabbing each other in the back for sport. It’s who we are.”

“Well, aren’t you a pessimist.”

“Hardly. I simply know our natures too well,” Roderich sighed, growing weary at this line of conversation. “So, if this is only temporary, why should I feign tolerance towards you? Quite honestly, you’re not important enough to me for that sort of performance. Even if you were, you would see right through it. No, my energy is better spent on nobler pursuits.”

Gilbert had set his mug down, now drumming his fingers on the countertop. “I’m not asking for friendship; I’m asking for honesty.” He rolled his eyes with the temperament of a teenager. “Whatever. You got me sidetracked. It’s pointless anyways; you’re too delusional.”

“Excuse me?” That was quite the accusation from an unusual source. “At this point, you may as well come right out and say it.”

“If you insist,” Gilbert’s tone lilted up, songlike and jeering. “What you won’t admit is what I started this whole conversation with. All these trips to Paris, they’re not about work or diplomacy or any of your other shitty excuses. I know and you know that the only purpose is to blow a load in Francis’ ass and get away from your miserable life.”

Roderich set his mug down gently. There was no need for it to spill, to make a mess all over the clean marble. “For a moment, I’m going to ignore the vulgar insinuation you’ve made about my relationship with Francis.” He looked up, not breaking eye contact with Gilbert. “You know nothing about my life and my contentment with it. I understand that you are a deeply unhappy and wretched creature and why shouldn’t you be? There is nothing for you to go home and boast about, no shining accomplishments of yours not bathed in the blood of an innocent people, but do not project your misery onto me. For all your crowing to the contrary, we have never been, nor will we ever be, the same.”

Gilbert scoffed. “And everything you’ve ever done, there was only glory to be found there? All the princes you absorbed into your own lands, they were willing? The Bohemians, the Hungarians, they love your rulers? Are you pretending that only Russia and I invaded Poland because I remember seeing you at the table, carving out portions for yourself.”

“I’m not so naïve to believe I haven’t picked up the sword before. And, if necessary, I would again. You’d be wise to remember that.” Roderich straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. “But I’ve achieved just as much without force as with. The home we’re currently standing is a monument to such.”

“Please. It’s a monument to other people’s power and what it can get you. We don’t impact change, we just ride the waves of it,” Gilbert sneered. “This house is a prison for all who come in it. A golden cage is still a cage, Roderich, even for the largest bird.”

Roderich sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Mixing your metaphors doesn’t make you sound wiser, I’ve told you this before.” Needing caffeine for his growing headache, he took a sip. “I assume you’re including yourself among the captives.”

“To a degree. I can leave whenever I want – as you love to point out, I do have my own house – but where would one of us be without the other two? We are the protagonists of our own tragedy.”

“I sincerely regret that old king of yours got you into theater. Next you’ll be telling me how all the world’s a stage and we are but merely players.” When Gilbert opened his mouth to comment on that, Roderich held up his hand. “That wasn’t an invitation for your Shakespearean theories!” He rubbed the bridge between his nose, his prior weariness intensifying. “Why does it matter to you so much? Why must I parade my discontent as you and Erzsébet do? If you make your life’s purpose revenge against an unjust world – there you go! I admit it’s unjust! – you are sure to become more miserable than ever before. Perhaps you should learn that before it destroys you like one of your dear tragedies.”

“It matters because you act like you’re superior to us in every way when, really, you’re no different. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” Gilbert’s voice softened with something akin to regret.

Something in his tone of voice, in his posturing, lit a fire within Roderich. His eyes hardened and he pressed his lips into a scowl. “Understanding is what you want? If it’ll get the defiling power of your pity off me, then so be it! I am better than you in every conceivable way. If I am to you but a mirror, peer close and you’ll realize it too. Where you feel trapped by the circumstances life has thrown us in, with a life that can never truly be our own, I’ve taken what you’ve failed to grasp. While you were slaughtering pagan Easterners in your little bog, I was here, accumulating wealth and power you’ve only fantasized about. I am the seat of an empire that you only have access to through Brandenburg.

“But those are meaningless things, aren’t they? Because here’s what really matters to you – the only thing, isn’t it? I’ve seen how you stare; I know that look – I’ve got what a childhood spent pining among the monks prevented you from getting. Did you ever mention it to them? How young love made that vow of celibacy torturous? How close did you come to breaking it? How many Hail Mary’s did they make you perform for every impure thought? Do you wonder what they’d think of you now, going through all this because you’re in love with your brother’s wife? Phrased just so, they would burn you at the stake again. Ah, but the hellfire is familiar, isn’t it?” Roderich glanced at the clock hanging behind Gilbert’s shoulder. “Erzsébet should be waking now. Go play domestic and bring my wife some coffee.”

Roderich forced himself away from Gilbert, who was left crestfallen with his wide eyes and gaping mouth. He had said enough, gloating would be overkill. He entered his study and locked the door. If there would be consequences for his monologue, let them come later.

The day was still new. Roderich stared out the window. Despite checking the clock, his adrenaline had made him forget the time. He approximated it was no more than nine. He began pouring himself a glass of brandy, but stopped, preferring to drink from the bottle. He gazed around the vast emptiness of the room beyond its sole occupant. He raised the bottle for a toast:

“To the prison of my own making. There is no place quite like home.”

#aph prussia #hws prussia #aph austria #hws austria #pruaus

[egelantier]

Tian Guan Ci Fu

where is it and what is it

it’s a chinese webnovel by mxtx, the same author who did untamed; it exists as a webnovel, finished and kindly translated here, the manhwa, the donghua (animated adaptation) happening right now, and there’s a live action adaptation in plans, directed by the same guy who did untamed. the donghua is gorgeous, the adaptation i’m unsure about but prepared to be hopeful, the manhwa seems to be very pretty. but all the adaptations only cover the very beginning of the novel for now, so i went ahead and read the novel, and i have no regrets. it helps that the translation is very good - not without awkward translatorese, but it has consistent and engaging flow and style, and it’s also pretty good at conveying mxtx’s humor without awkwardness. it reads pretty well.

what’s it about?

the world is split into two parts: mortals and various ghosts and demons and entities share the land, while ‘heaven officials’, aka gods, live in the heavenly kingdom in the sky. pretty much anybody can become a god if they do something really heroic or memorable and/or cultivate (meditation, training, virtuous behavior) really hard. when above, the gods rule their domains and fulfill their believers’ wishes; they work sort of like pratchettian gods, dependent on their followers’ beliefs and getting influenced by them. heavens are strictly hierarchical, with their own economy and pecking order, and the gods aren’t particularly sinless or benevolent; mostly it’s a question of scale.

our hero, xie lian, is a prince of a prosperous kingdom who’s been on a fast track to ascension for most of his very short life; he’s talented, he’s virtuous, he’s kind, he’s strong, and his only peculiar flaw is (somehow naive, but well-meaning) obsession with equality and value of human lives and so on. he becomes a god, unexpectedly, at seventeen, after slaying one especially dangerous god, and rises in heaven at the peak of his faith, influence and happiness.

…and then he finds out about drought and incipient trouble in his own kingdom, and, being a young and righteous god too close to his mortality, eschews heavens and returns to save everybody. it, to put it lightly, does not go well. at all. in fact, it goes catastrophically wrong, and, having lost everything, xie lian ascends again, only to get into a fight with the heavenly emperor, and get banished again, this time for good. he roams the mortal lands for next eight hundred of very lonely, luckless and hard years, technically immortal but not invincible, with his powers and his luck stripped away, and leans to make do, eking out a living as a scrap collector. his temples are desecrated, his name is forgotten, his kingdom is long gone, and - well. so it goes.

so it goes! until one day, to everybody’s great surprise, he ascends once again: a humble, gentle, immune to embarrassment, unflappable man, an embarrassment to heavens, a 'laughingstock of three realms’ who just wants to be left well enough alone. he’s Tired.

instead of rest, he gets sent to investigate a dangerous ghost stealing brides who pass through its mountain, and there, during the course of the interrogation, has his first (he thinks) meeting with a terrifying, old-powerful and vengeful ghost king named hua cheng, who likes to terrorize heavens from time to time. but said ghost king seems to be very benevolent and very interested in helping xie lian, and xie lian is pretty instantly smitten… with knowing what’s the cause of such interest.

…and meanwhile, in the beginning, there'was an unlucky boy, born under the worst stars, whom xie lian saved from falling once, while still mortal, and promptly lost track of. a lot of things happened to this boy, who wanted to be the most devoted worshipper to xie lian the god of the sword and the flower. as one does, you know.

that’s the beginning! from there on: investigations, heavenly secrets, old friends and enemies and acquaintances, thematic parallels, old tragedies, more pining than you can shake a stick at, grand acts of love.

is it good?

it’s very, very good. it’s the first fantasy cnovel i read (aside from the hilarious one about a guy traveling back in his own timeline and becoming a sugar baby to a mafia boss, which was in a very different league), so i don’t know which things are baseline and which things are unique, but it had a very solid foundation: ambitious multilevel, multi-timeline plot coming together in the end both events- and emotions-wise, beautifully iddy main relationship, maybe multifaceted characters who change and grow and clash together in fun ways, a clear and heartfelt understanding of its own core themes.

it’s also, unexpectedly, very funny, in this visual, slapsticky, begs-to-be-adapted way - i found myself laughing out loud over it a lot of times, and it possesses this gift of swerve between understated but earnest emotions and all-out jokes that i associate with… a bit of prattchett and a bit of gintama, honestly. take it as you will.

(oh my god the mecha. i will laugh over this one until i die.)

it also made me cry several times; granted, it’s not like it’s this time, but those were very heartfelt tears.

and the main duo?

first let me say that xie lian was lifted out, wholesale, out of my deepest character preferences. he fell really, really far, and did some bad things, and some very horrible things were done to him, and by the time we meet him he went through everything and achieved this effortless kind of traumatized, humble, accepting, wryly self-deprecating, utterly competent chill that makes a character incredibly appealing to me. he’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s gotten any possible embarrassment at least a couple of centuries ago, and he kinda made peace with himself and kinda didn’t. i love him.

and, thankfully for me, hua cheng, the ghost king, loves him a whole damn lot, a ridiculous amount, an epic, over-the-lifetimes, life-shattering amount, and he’s a terrifying presence to everybody else and a shy, protective, sweet dork to xie lian, and every time they’re together on page my entire heart is just. it’s AMAZING. he’s a great combination of playing the obsessive protective yandere stalker-lover trope straight and putting it on its head, by making hua cheng not just revere but respect xie lian, in all his good and bad decisions.

they are just so - good for each other, holy shit. they get each other so well. they’re the best ever power team. i love them.

(the rest of canon is various character reenacting “really? in front of my salad?” meme at them. it’s hysterical, and it’s the best. everybody teams up to tell xie lian that his boyfriend is Problematic way, way before xie lian clues into the fact that he does have a boyfriend, and he’s having none of it. i love it.)

and the themes?

okay, so. roughly half of this novel is ridiculous iddy pining, and a fourth of it is various tropes (off the top of my head: soulbond, sex pollen, body switch, de-age, various shades of identity porn… crossdressing…) played very shamelessly. but it also really benefits from having an overarching set of ethical questions, and while it deals with them a bit shounen-style, it still deals with them, and it makes the whole text fresh, and sweet, and bold.

is it possible to save everybody? should you try to save everybody? if you lack the powers to back your convictions, does it make you complicit? when is it possible to stop the cycle of suffering, what can you do if you want to but can’t? if you tried and people you failed turned on you, whose fault it is, where does the blame stop?

Detailed spoilers begin from here, and i would REALLY advise to stay unspoiled, because the domino reveals are very fun

i loved the various ways the novel sets all those pieces up and then overturns them and then returns to them. xie lian wanted to save everybody and it was arrogant naivete of an untried, untested, privileged young man who never had a real challenge before; his presence made things escalate quicker, and yet everybody around him pretended it was his attempt to make things better that ruined everything, and not a combination of factors outside of his control. and yet he accepts the blame, because it dovetails with his shame at not having enough powers to back his intent up; and yet his triumph over bai wuxian is that he doesn’t, after all, renege on his initial drive to help people.

my most favorite part of this novel is that its turning point, the lynchpin of the whole novel, the moment that keeps xie lian’s soul and safety intact, is not his personal purity and drive; it’s not even hua cheng’s devotion and sacrificial love. it’s just a moment of little, grudging, human kindness from a little, petty, rude man whom the history will sweep away soon. the bamboo hat in the rain. the rest of the plot keeps twisting and turning and coming back to itself, but this? this was unquestionably, beautifully clear, and i loved it. it’s never about the gods, it’s all down to - fallen human is human, ascended human is human, and human is not some state, virtuous or sinful, you get stuck with - it’s a multitude of choices, and there’s never a final one.

and incoherent spoilery screaming for people who read it already

oh my god i had SO MUCH FUN. i’ve been flailing on meme for days, because somebody just finished reading there too, and i’m still bursting with ALL THE FEELS. ruoye origins oh my god! that hat! jin wu’s backstory and ultimate end! e-ming’s praise kink! pei ming’s little shippery 'hoho’! hua cheng’s horribly handwritten stick and poke tattoo of xie lian’s name! the lanteeeeeeeeeeeeerns. feng xin and mu qing on the bridge, making up with each other and with xie lian! hua cheng trying to explain to xie lian that his habit of using himself as bait and pincushion at any given moment is deeply emotionally upsetting to him, and succeeding! banyue’s learning from xie lian to be a truly horrible cook! the entire deal with shi qingxuan and he xuan and the wind fan in the end. THE CAVE. THE GIANT MECHA. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaa and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa and i am beset, beset by feelings. come scream with me.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng #cdramas #cnovels #mxtx

[ssfghfrrggf]

In Your Arms Part 1

The first part of my late happy birthday Burzek fic for Lexi (@adamruz )!

“You’re here late,” Trudy comments, poking her head into Hank’s office. She’d been on her way out when she saw that the light in his office was still on, and decided to stop by and check on him. The case they’ve been working on’s a rough one, and she knows the whole unit has been double timing it trying to solve it.

“Yeah, just trying to find something we missed,” Voight mutters, passing her only a brief glance. 

“These guys are really giving you the runaround, aren’t they?” 

Intellegence has been working this human trafficking case nonstop for the past two weeks and haven’t seemed to gain any solid ground with it.

Hank nods his head slightly and continues thumbing through the file sitting on his desk. “All of the girls we have managed to save are too drugged up to remember anything, and the one guy we got in connection to it won’t talk.”

“These girls were all part of missing persons cases, weren’t they?” Trudy asks, picking up one of the files on her friend’s desk. They found four girls, two of them died in the hospital and the other two are slowly recovering. Each of them had been dumped on a street corner somewhere beaten and half dead.

“Yeah, we’ve got the locations of where they were abducted from and where they were dumped tacked up on a map out in the bull pen,” Voight replies, finally giving her a glance that lasts longer than a second, and then hands her a file. “This guy is our best lead right now.” he hands her a mug shot.

“Darrel Barnes,” Trudy mumbles out loud as she reads the name on the mugshot. “What’s his connection?”

“He says he knows a guy in the ring, and he’s willing to snitch for us,” Voight replies. 

“How’d you guys find him?” Trudy asks, looking up from the picture.

“Petty drug charge,” Voight replies. “He’s one of Ruzek’s CIs, he was the only person we have who might know something. Ruzek and Burgess are meeting with him now.”

Trudy opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by Hank’s phone ringing. He holds up his hand in a movement that says give me a second, and answers the phone.

“Voight.” A glare drifts across his face as he listens to the voice on the other end. Trudy sits up straighter and studies Hank as he nods his head, the anger on his face is dashed with worry. “You’re sure?... Okay, thank you. We’ll be there right away.”

He’s already on his feet and grabbing his jacket by the time he hangs up the phone.

“Hank-”

“That was Boden,” Hank says, his voice seeming to catch in his throat. “They just pulled Ruzek out of a car wreck.”

“What?” Trudy breathes. “How bad is it?”

“He didn’t say much but it’s bad. They’re transporting him to the hospital.”

“I’ll meet them there, you get to the scene,” Trudy says, grabbing her keys and jacket. 

***

“Adam, stay with us,” Sylvie urges as she presses gauze against the side of his bloody head. He’s losing blood fast, it seems to be soaking through the dressing just as fast as she can apply it, and to his head’s not the only place that’s bleeding.

“Kim…” Adam chokes and tries to lift his head off the stretcher but the c-collar around his neck stops him

“Hey, easy,” Sylvie soothes as she grabs more dressing to pack against his head. “You’ll be okay. I’m sure Kim will meet us at the hospital.”

Adam opens his mouth but instead of words he coughs and blood comes up.

“Brett, he’s been shot!” Violet says, alarmed, as she pulls open his vest revealing his bloody chest and abdomen. Brett can see at least three bullet wounds in addition to the dark bruise spreading up the left side of his body.

“Casey! We need you to step on it!” Brett shouts through the little window into the cab of the ambulance. She had needed an extra set of hands in the back, so he had jumped in the front seat to drive them. Ruzek had already lost a lot of blood by the time they pulled him out of the car, she’d seen a puddle on the floor board at his feet, and nothing they're doing now is doing anything to slow it down. And the bleeding isn't just external, it’s internal too. The only thing that’s going to save him is getting him to the hospital as fast as humanly possible.

“Brett, he’s crashing,” Violet says urgently, and as Sylvie looks up from Adam to glance at the monitor, the line on the screen goes flat.

“Get the epi,” Brett chokes, taking her hands away from his bloody and standing up so she can start chest compressions. 

“Brett,” Violet whispers and shakes her head. Her face all too clearly saying ‘he’s gone. We’re not going to be able to get him back’

“Get the epi, Violet,” Brett says with more force this time. “We’re not giving up at him.”

She refuses to give up on him, they’re by no means best friends but she’s not letting him die on her watch. She’s going to do whatever she has to get him back.

***

“What happened?” Trudy demands, finding the two paramedics from 61 as they’re filling out their run paperwork. The medics will know the most. Her drive to the hospital was hell, all of the different horrible outcomes running rampant through her mind. “Where is he? Brett, where is he, how bad is it?”

Brett glances over at her partner with a concerned look, before turning her gaze to meet Trudy’s.

“Trudy,” the paramedic says gently and gently takes her hand. “You should come sit down.”

“Sylvie, how bad is it? What happened?” Trudy begs as Sylvie guides her toward a chair in the far corner.

“It’s bad, Trudy,” Brett replies softly, and adjusts her grip on her hand as they sit down. “He arrested in transport, and he was still down when we got here.”

“No,” Trudy chokes and shakes her head. He can’t die; she can’t lose him too. Everyone at the 21st are like her kids, people she’s watched grow up from rookies, but Adam especially, he’d been hand picked by Al. She lost Al, one of her best friends in the world, she can’t lose Adam. “No… what happened?”

“He ran a red light and a truck t-boned him, and…” Sylvie hesitates a second before continuing. “And he got shot, Trudy.”

“What?” For a second Trudy thinks she heard the medic wrong.

“He had three bullet wounds,” Sylvie replies quietly, like she wishes she didn’t have to say it. “I’m sorry Trudy.”

Trudy swallows and nods her head absently. 

“I’ll wait here with you until one of the doctors comes out,” Sylvie says comfortingly.

“Is Kim okay?” Trudy finally asks.

Brett frowns and shakes her head. “She wasn’t there, why?”

Trudy raises her eyebrows in alarm. Kim went with Adam to see the CI, that’s what Voight said at least. If he got shot and she wasn’t with him, that could mean she’s still out there somewhere. “She was supposed to be with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to call Hank,” Trudy says standing up. She is not losing both Adam and Kim.

#chicago pd #chicago pd fic #burzek #burzek fic #adam ruzek #kim burgess

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (8)

* Secrets shared in a skyward hideaway.

I do feel the need to put a trigger warning on this chapter because there is discussion of past non-con/rape treatment that may be upsetting to read about. It is short and not horribly descriptive in any way but it is there and you should be informed about it. With that, carry on.*

~~~

Baelfire proved to be a more than worthy adversary to Peter and his boys. It had been several weeks since Baelfire had run into the jungle and hid. I know that if Peter truly wanted to find him then he could rather easily but he was enjoying this game with Bae far too much to do something like cheat. I had not seen much of Bae ever since that night we spent at my camp. I would accidentally come upon him in the jungle gathering water or food on occasion and there were some mornings where he would come visit me at my camp, desperate for someone to talk to. I understood the need well. He never stayed for long though. Just enough to keep himself sane before he left again.

If Peter knew that Bae came to see me he never said anything about it. Scowl and mutter to himself when he saw two apple cores lying in the sand, yes, but he never did ask. Never accused. He knew I was obeying his rules. I never went out seeking Baelfire but there was no rule that he couldn’t come to me. I was also under no obligation to detain him for Peter.

An interesting change was how much more attentive Peter got once Baelfire arrived. Before he would stop by frequently to see me everyday, other days he would be busier and would only be able to come by in the evenings when the island was laid to rest. But now he was practically glued to my side. I always knew to expect him around noon and we would stay together for hours on end together. He would disappear for an a hour or so then be back to spend the rest of the day with me. He would come every night and sit with me by the fire until I began to nod off.

Our visits consisted mostly of talking while we hiked through the jungle or lying against one another at my camp watching the waves as Peter performed small tricks of magic and I sang half forgotten lyrics of songs from long ago.

Then of course there was the kissing. Like a lot of kissing. Probably too much kissing to be honest but it couldn’t be helped. It was safe to assume that if we weren’t talking or hiking or fighting his lips were attached to mine. It was an experience more intoxicating than rum and we were determined to get drunk on one another.

On more than one occasion I felt something between us. I don’t mean that metaphorically either. His little “pan flute” would pop up between our bodies and Peter would subsequently get flustered about it. Pulling it away so it couldn’t touch me. It was rather cute. Peter didn’t think so but I liked that he didn’t want his hormones to make me uncomfortable. Especially after the first time it happened and I got so frightened at the sudden poke to my thigh that I shoved him away from me with such force he almost went rolling back into my fire pit.

His face went red and he desperately tried pulling down his tunic to hide the erection straining against his pants. In the moment after I laughed it off and teased him about it but my heart was still hammering hard in my chest. I dug my hands deep in the sand so he couldn’t see them shaking. Specks of warm arousal poking through waves of cold dread. It was confusing to say the least. Peter never asked me to elaborate about why I had pushed him away so harshly for something fairly innocuous. Maybe it was because he was embarrassed for the first time ever and didn’t want to dwell on it. Either way it was never discussed.

Until the night Peter went missing.

It was a night like any other. I lit a fire, ate my dinner and quietly sang songs as I walked along the shallows of the beach. There was one stark difference though. Peter wasn’t here. He always showed up around this time but tonight he was late. Very late.

I told myself it didn’t matter. Peter doesn’t have to come see me every single night. I spent many a night without Peter at my side. His absence was nothing new and I could cope fine without him for an evening. But still it worried me. Earlier that day he was with me when suddenly he had just gotten up and run off with barely a word of goodbye. He never returned and I was starting to get worried.

What if something bad happened to him? What if he was hurt and couldn’t get back to camp? I knew it was ridiculous to think about. Nothing bad could happen to Peter on Neverland. If I knew that then why did these thoughts continue to plague me? Should I go looking for him? Maybe I should stop by the camp just to make sure. Yes. That sounds perfectly reasonable. Peter is always asking me to come back to camp with him. Perhaps this is just one of his ploys to get me to comply. If it meant knowing that he was safe rather than dying of dreamshade in some ditch then I would indulge his games.

I hurriedly walked through the jungle towards camp. Relief came to me when I saw the flames of the large bonfire shining through the trees. I entered, waving to the boys as I passed. I searched their faces for Peter but didn’t see him.

“Hey Felix,” I approached the tall Lost Boy, “Do you know where Peter is?”

“He’s not with you?” Felix said, brow furrowing.

“No. He ran off earlier this afternoon and I haven’t seen him since. I figured he was here.”

“I haven’t seen him since this morning. I thought he was spending all day with you...again.” Felix scowled at me.

“Now’s not the time for your petty jealousy, we have a much bigger issue at hand. If Peter isn’t with me and he isn’t at camp, then where could he be?”

“Maybe he left the island. He doesn’t do it as much now but it wouldn’t be unheard of.”

“All the more reason I’m worried. He doesn’t leave the island unless it is for a very good reason. You don’t think this has anything to do with Baelfire, do you?”

“Possibly. No way to know for certain.”

“Should we be worried?”

“I don’t think so. Pan just disappears sometimes. He's never away long and does come back eventually.”

“I know you’re right but there is something about this whole thing that doesn’t sit right with me.” I crossed my arms, “I’m going to go look for him. If anything, searching will at least put my mind at ease.”

“Do what you want. But I’m telling you that you’re worried over nothing.”

I grabbed a lantern from the camp and made my way out into the jungle. I called Peter’s name with no response. I liked to think that I knew the jungle pretty well but there was a reason I made my camp on the beach. The jungle unnerved me slightly and it was only made worse at night. I know that if I became lost I could realistically find my way back to familiar territory in an hour or two. At night though every tree, every path, looked the same. It felt like I could walk in circles for hours.

I listened for a noise. For the music of his pipes to guide me to him but the night air was frustratingly quiet. More time passed and I was growing weary. It had to be very late now and I still had no idea where Peter was. He probably was off the island somewhere and would be back in the morning like Felix said. I should go back to my camp and go to bed. I should...but I didn’t.

I rested against the large trunk of a tree to gather my bearings. “Where are you?” I whispered to the air.

Then, like an answer to a prayer I heard something. It was faint but it was there. A soft sound far above me. I squinted up at the tree and strained my ears to listen. Whatever that noise was it was coming from up there. Reason told me it was a bird or leaves but I couldn’t leave it alone. I set the lantern down on the ground and heaved myself up into the large branches of the tree. It wasn’t like the other trees around the island. Those were all tall, thin and tropical with smooth trunks. This however looked like a large oak tree. Rough bark and twisted branches stretching higher and higher into the air. What was a tree like this doing here?

I continued to climb and subsequently the noise I had heard became louder. I was convinced it wasn’t a bird now. It sounded like a person. I broke through the foliage and found a small treehouse extended on the large bough. Could this be where Baelfire had hidden himself away? If it was then I had to commend him. Building a treehouse up this high was no easy feat. That just reminds me, I should go talk to Tinkerbell one of these days and catch up.

I carefully stepped closer to the treehouse and peered in through the crack of the door. The figure of a boy was hunched over in a tight ball. Quiet sobs shook his shoulders. I pulled the door open more to get a better look and was betrayed by the loud creak that accompanied it. I froze as the figure on the ground stopped crying at once and his head rose. He turned around and I was faced with a sight I never thought I would see.

Peter Pan, my Peter Pan, was on the ground of this treehouse with noticeable tear tracks trailing down his cheeks and his eyes were puffed from crying. He gazed at me in shock but there was a feeling of shame with it. Before I could say anything he waved his hand and the door slammed shut in my face.

“Peter,” I knocked on the door, “Peter please, open up.”

“Go away. I’m in no mood.” His voice was quiet.

“I’ve been looking for you all night. You had me worried.” I sighed, resting my head against the door, “Please, talk to me.”

“I said to go away!” There was more bite to his words this time.

“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t now. Not after what I saw.”

“You saw nothing.”

“You can lie to yourself but not me. I know you too well.” A pause. “Please Peter, you’re scaring me. I just want to make sure that you’re alright. If something is going on then I want you to tell me. I want to be there for you like you’ve always been there for me. Please!”

“You can’t help this.”

“But I can listen. I can hold you while you unload your worries...dry your tears. You need not hide them from me. I’ve already seen them now.”

“Why won’t you just leave?”

“Because I care about you and I’m stubborn.”

The door creaked open and Peter stood on the other side. He looked more composed now but there was still an undeniable air of sadness surrounding him. I walked into him and held him in my arms. He buried his face in my neck.

“I’m scared,” he whispered after several minutes of silence, “I’m terrified, precious.”

“Why? What are you scared of?” I asked.

“I’m dying. I’m dying faster and faster and it feels like I can’t stop it.”

My heart stopped. My grip on him becoming tighter. “What do you mean? What makes you think you’re dying?”

He sighed and gazed down at me. “Come, sit down.” He moved us to a small wooden bed that stood in the corner. “There’s one story I have yet to tell you.”

I sat patiently while Peter explained why he had been so scared tonight. Apparently there is an hourglass on Skull Rock that counts down Peter’s life. For many years it had sat stagnant as was expected on an island where nothing ages. Then one day the sand started to trickle out. It was hardly noticeable at first. A grain of sand a day if that. Then slowly over time it was getting faster and faster.

Peter was shaking again by the end of his tale. I held him in my arms until the shaking stopped. It gave me plenty of time to think about what he had said too.

“Peter,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion, “Why did you never tell me? It pains me to think that you’ve been holding all this in by yourself.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” His voice was hoarse from the sobs he refused to let free, “If you knew that there was a timer on my you would be so worried all the time. I didn’t want to put that burden on you.”

“Better to share a burden than let one person break under it.” I told him. “Is there anything we can do to fix this? I mean, there has to be a way.”

“There is.” Peter sighed, “Do you ever wonder why there are only Lost Boys and no Lost Girls?”

“Sexism?”

“Cute, precious, but no. The reason I only bring boys to the island it because I am looking for something very rare. The Heart of the Truest Believer. I received information that the heart belongs to a boy and I’ve been searching for him ever since. But he is proving difficult to locate.”

“This afternoon when I left you I went to check on the hourglass. I had felt something shift in the air around me and knew something had to be wrong,” Peter continued, “When I saw the hourglass it was so much lower than the last time I checked. I’m running out of time and it feels like I can’t do anything about it because I can’t find this blasted boy!”

Peter shot off the bed, pacing the small length of the room and running his hands through his hair. “I came up here for some privacy to calm down and wallow in peace. I never meant to scare you. I am just going through a very difficult time right now.”

“Peter,” I stood in front of him to stop his pacing. I grabbed his hands and kissed the backs of his knuckles. “Everything is going to be alright. We’ll find the heart and we’ll cure you. I promise.”

I kissed his cheek. “I promise.” I kissed his other cheek. “I promise.”

He placed his hands on my waist and pressed his lips to mine in a soft, needy kiss. I was trying to reassure him with slow and meaningful kisses but he wanted more. Needed more. The loving embrace taking a turn for heat and pleasure as his mouth ravished mine. I didn’t mind. He needed to express the tornado of emotions and I was more than willing to help him withstand the storm.

His hands glided up from my waist into my hair. We stumbled back so I was pressed against the treehouse wall as he kissed me desperately. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest as his lips left mine to nuzzle and suck on my neck. Warmth spread through my chest.

“Want you.” Peter’s voice whispered like a plea in my ear, “Need you so badly, my pearl.”

Peter’s hands were all over me. It was like he couldn’t figure out where to keep them so he put them everywhere. Reaching around me to grab handfuls of my ass or running up and down my sides before catching in my hair again. At one point I felt his hands glide under my shirt. The sensation was tingly but pleasant and I didn’t try to stop him as his hands got higher.

He laid us back on the bed and a giggle escaped my mouth as his hands tickled along my ribcage. The air around us was sweltering and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I tentatively ran my fingers along the hem of his tunic. Peter groaned slightly when I swallowed back my nerves and ran my hands up under his tunic along his bare skin.

I searched his eyes and with a small nod he removed the shirt. It really wasn’t anything that I hadn’t seen before but then again we hadn’t been close like this when he shirtless then. He sat back for a moment basking in the attention as I mapped his torso with my hands. He was back on me kissing me harder and pulling me tighter against him.

“You feel all warm and soft,” He murmured against my neck, “Soft as a kitten.”

You’re so soft. Like a little kitten.

No. No, he can’t ruin this.

Won’t you purr for me little kitten?

No!

“Stop.” I pushed Peter away. Peter stopped at once, leaning away to put space between us. I readjusted my clothes with shaking hands. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to but I...I…”

“You’re nervous.” he said, brushing a hand through my hair in a soothing motion. “If I may confide, I am nervous too.”

“You?”

“Yes.” He sighed, “It may surprise you since I am such a catch but I’ve never been involved with a girl like this before. I never saw much of a point in it before you. But I do care for you and if given the chance I would love nothing more than to please you, my pearl.”

“Peter,” I laced my fingers through his. It was the only thing keeping me tethered to the room in that moment. “I am grateful but you must know that it isn’t just nerves that keeps me from being intimate with you.”

“What does then?” He asked.

“You would not be my first.” I whispered and watched as the realization and subsequent jealousy flared in his eyes, “It was a long time ago before I came to Neverland. A pirate from another ship when we made port. He was handsome and older and we got along well. A bottle of rum later and we went out back behind a tavern.”

“I see.” Peter was trying to remain calm but I could see the jealous rage in his eyes.

“I don’t think you do. What happened between us was unpleasant to say the least.” I said and Peter’s brow knit in confusion, “It was exciting at first but the actual act was uncomfortable and even painful and when he had finished he left and I was sat there alone on the dirty ground. I was bleeding and scared because I had no form of contraception. A couple of prostitutes spotted me crying and took me to the apothecary to make sure I didn’t end up pregnant. After that I went back to the ship and never told anyone.”

“He forced himself on you?” Peter barked, murder in his eyes. I could hear the distant roar of thunder rolling in with his rage.

“No. I don’t think so at least. Details are fuzzy but I remember that I wanted to do it and up until a point I was enjoying myself but he had not been gentle with me and didn’t seem at all concerned that I received no pleasure from our interaction.” I gripped his hand tighter. As much as I forgot of my old life, this one memory forever haunted my mind. I think it was the only time I was truly and utterly terrified. “I was more scared when I looked down and saw the blood mixed with something else on my thighs. Can we please stop talking about it now. It’s humiliating and unpleasant to think about.”

The anger bled out of him replaced with pained eyes and a soft voice, “Of course, my pearl, of course.” He kissed the crown of my head. “I am so sorry you had to go through that. You deserved so much better than to be used by some slimy pirate. I would banish the memory of him and his cruel treatment of you from your mind forever.”

“Please, make it go away.” I pleaded, “I don’t want to remember him. I don’t want to remember what happened.”  The smell of rum between us, the way he pinned me against a wall, little pinpoints of pleasure through the discomfort, and the words he spoke in my ear. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to make me tremble.

“Shh,” Peter pulled his tunic back on before pulling me back into his arms. “It’s alright, my pearl. It’s just a bad dream now. He can never hurt you again and I would never let him. Everything will be alright.”

“Why does the pain always remain? Why can’t I remember anything happy?”

“Because pain leaves scars.” Peter whispered, he pressed a hand to my head. “Go to sleep. We could both use the rest.”

“Peter…” I yawned as my eyes grew heavy and I started to fall under his sleeping spell.

“Hush now,” His voice sounded farther away. Whether it was the start of a dream or not I could not tell. “I’m watching over you, my love.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine #tw: mentions of rape/non-con #trigger warning

[anusha-swritings]

hii! could i do a mgk request? so basically kells and the reader have been friends for a while and they both like each other and kells writes bloody valentine about the reader or something like that? just a lot of fluff! thank you!

Bloody Valentine

Summary: British!reader and best friend Colson admit their feelings for each other. 

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of drug use, language (not offensive)

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“Bloody hell!” I exclaimed seeing all the dishes Colson had left in the sink. I rolled my eyes, at the carelessness of my roommate/best friend. I knew he was probably in the studio working on something, but his carelessness was really pissing me off. If it was anyone else who had to take care of him like I did they’d probably have moved out the first day, but my friends were probably right my major crush on my best friend probably made me biased. Just a little bit.

I walked into the studio and sat on the spare couch while Colson was recording part of a new song with some of the guys. I laid on the couch jamming out to Travis’ drumming. He joined me on the couch a few minutes later and slim not too long after him. I laid my legs on slim’s lap. 

Soon Colson finished recording part of the song and all that was left was his background, and overlaps. He lit a blunt and walked to the couch. I moved my legs to let him sit between me and slim. He pulled me in by my waist and I laid my head on his shoulder. The song Colson was recording started playing again in the background as I closed my eyes listening to the lyrics.

The simulation just went bad

But you're the best I ever had

Like hand prints in wet cement

She touched me it's permanent

Colson shifted slightly under me as the song continued. 

In my head, in my head

I couldn't hear anything you said but

In my head, in my head

I'm calling you girlfriend, what the fuck

I started analyzing the lyrics. They seemed vaguely familiar.

I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight

I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight

I can't stay forever, let's play pretend

And treat this night like it'll happen again

You'll be my bloody valentine tonight

I remembered saying something like that a few weeks ago on valentines day. I was angry and being petty about being alone, so if anyone asked me what was wrong I yelled “It’s bloody valentines day!” 

I'm overstimulated and I'm sad

I don't expect you to understand

It's nothing less than true romance

Or am I just making a mess

If this song was about me, what does he feel I don’t understand? I have so many questions: how do I ask him if he wrote a song about me?

In my head in my head

I'm laying naked with you, yeah

In my head, in my head

I'm ready to die holding your hand

I gasped slightly causing Slim to turn to me and give me a questioning look. I just shrugged, gesturing that we’d talk later. Slim was one of the few people I trusted to tell everything. He’s also the only one who knows about my crush on my best friend although he claims everyone can tell.

I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight (take some from you tonight)

I know I've got to go but I might just miss the flight

I can't stay forever, let's play pretend

And treat this night like it'll happen again

You'll be my bloody valentine tonight

As I continued to listen to the lyrics things started clicking in my brain. I remembered the time Colson missed a flight to stay and console me after my ex broke up with me. 

I can't hide

How I feel about you

Inside

I'd give everything up

Tonight

If I could just have you be mine

Be mine, baby

I can't hide

How I feel about you

Inside

I'd give everything up

Tonight

If I could just have you be mine

Be mine

I had to pinch myself to tell if this was real, maybe it was all a big coincidence and Colson was just writing about someone else. 

Ay, I don't do fake love, but I'll take some from you tonight (take some from you tonight)

I know I've got to go, but I might just miss the flight

I can't stay forever, let's play pretend

And treat this night like it'll happen again

You'll be my bloody valentine tonight

Everyone cheered and I joined in clapping to avoid suspicion. Colson went around the room ½ high asking everyone what their favorite part was. When Colson got to me I stuttered for a moment. “Um….well I really liked Travis’ drum solo.” Everyone else was interested in a story Travis was telling at this point. Colson and I were sitting in a separate corner of the studio, we’d moved around as everyone was congratulating and hugging each other. I could see Slim watching us from the corner of his eye noting the awkwardness.

“Ok,” Colson rolled his eyes. “What’s your favorite part about me?” He smirked knowing his phrasing was gonna make me blush. His smirk only grew when my whole face turned red and I looked down. Before I could recover to say something witty back to him Baze interrupted us. 

“Colson, come sit with us bro we got questions about these fucking lyrics.” Colson got up from his seat pressing a kiss to my forehead, which isn't unusual for us, before sitting with the guys. “So Colson, who’s this song about?” Slim asked, taking a swig of his beer. Colson gave him a look before stating “A girl” in a monotone.

All the boys rolled their eyes and booed trying to get a better answer out of him. Colson just sighed trying to change the conversation but it kept going back to his song. Eventually Colson got so irritated he stood up and walked out of the studio slamming the door behind him.

Eventually everyone in the studio turned to me staring expectantly. “What?” I was confused as to why they're staring at me. “You’re his best friend,” Baze pointed out. “Can you go calm him down please?” They all chimed in trying to convince me. “Fine. you’re lucky I don't wanna deal with an angry Colson.” I turned around glaring at the boys and wagging my finger, and I wonder why they call me the mom of the group. 

As I climbed the stairs I silently thanked the heavens for giving me a chance to talk to Colson alone. I approached Colson’s bedroom door and was about to knock when I heard him talking to himself. “Ugh, I wish you’d just understand.” I didn't want to eavesdrop. I was just trying to see if he was okay before I started talking to him but I was now curious as to who he was talking to.

I carefully knocked on the door. “Go away Baze.” Colson groaned from the other side of the door. “It’s y/n.” I heard him walk over to the door and unlock it, silently allowing me in. I walked in seeing him take off his jacket and hang it on a chair before falling face down on his bed. I laid next to him rubbing his back comfortingly. “Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?” I asked. He groaned into his pillow. I giggled. “Ok then can we watch frozen?” I asked.

“Yeah, go on my phone and just use the app to turn on the TV.” He mumbled into his pillow. I picked up his phone and opened it so see him scrolling through my Instagram. I noticed in the bottom corner his profile pic was of me. Why is his profile picture of me? Then it hit me he had a fan account for me. My face turned beet red and Colson noticed. “What wrong?” He asked. “Um...nothing.” I replied quickly, turning his phone off and reaching for the remote, deciding to just turn on the TV the normal way.

Colson sat up and turned to face me. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to tickle it out of you.” I turned away from him, continuing to turn on the TV. “Colson-” I started but was cut off by the feeling of his long fingers grazing and poking  my rib cage, emitting loud cackles from me as the remote fell out of my hand and landed on the bed. Colson continued to tickle me, making fun of my loud and obnoxious laugh as he leaned over me untill eventually he was hovering right over my body. 

His torture slowly came to a halt as we both realized how close our faces were. Colson slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I stayed frozen in shock even as he pulled away. “Wow you suck at kissing.” He laughed moving back to his side of the bed. “Well you’re the one simping over me, creating a fan account to stalk me, writing a song about me, then out of nowhere kissing me, plus you’re best friend so excuse me if I was a bit shocked.” I said teasingly, sitting back and folding my hands. Colson blushed and sunk back into the pillows. “Aww is Machine Gun Kelly blushing?” I teased.

“Would you like to redeem yourself?” He mumbled. “What? Redeem myself at what?” Colson sat up and leaned his face close to mine. “This.” He whispered and pressed his lips to mine. This time I was more prepared and kissed back as he grabbed my hips and pulled me into his lap. 

When we finally pulled away Colson pressed our foreheads together. “So you like me too right?” He asked grinning like a fool. “You’re an idiot.” I laughed pressing our lips together again.

Taglist: @guiltydols @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

#mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk imagines #mgk imagine #mgk oneshot #mgk fluff #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker imagines #colson baker x reader #colson x reader #colson baker fluff #colson baker oneshot #colson baker fanfic #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagines #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly fluff #machine gun kelly x reader #bloodyvalentineanusha

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask.” Epilogue - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index

Summary: Oh, just a cheesy happy ending for our favorite couple.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Category: FLUFF. So much FLUFF.

Content Warning: Literally none, unless you’re allergy to sappy fluff.

A/N: I rewrote this chapter after I got a comment from someone on Ao3 that demanded the story not end this way. Sadly, not only am I the author, I’m also the petty weight world champion.

In all seriousness, I have never even attempted to write something this big before. AYHTDIA is almost 60k words and I’m incredibly proud of it. This has meant more to me than anything.

-- Epilogue - The End --

Time passed differently after I started loving Spencer Reid. Before him time always seemed to move in lurches, some moments taking a lifetime to pass and others speeding by too quickly. Now the moments without him seemed to drag on for an eternity, but the time I was with him never seemed like enough.

Not every moment of loving him was easy because it wasn't. We argued like any other couple...even if how we made up was a bit different. Sometimes I loved how he rambled about everything and nothing for hours on end, other times it drove me insane. Sometimes little remnants of the walls I'd had up for most of my adult life reared their ugly heads.

It had been six months since I jumped in front of a bullet to save the love of my life, and five months since I’d allowed him to love me.

What was miraculous was that I never doubted that he loved me. Sure, he said it every day, but his actions are what truly made me feel it. Spencer’s love was like a tangible thing to me; it was warm, safe, and something I don’t know how I survived so long without.

My boy still brought me iced coffees after a fight, or whenever I needed a pick me up. He’d watch cheesy rom coms with me after we had a hard case. And in the mornings right when he was waking up, he’d always reach for me, pulling me closer into his arms.

Part of loving Dr. Spencer Reid was accepting what a strange individual he was He never wore matching socks, he was obsessed with Halloween, he was always ready to perform some sort of magic trick, and he was also the smartest person in almost any room he was in.

One night I was lying beside my boy in his bed when he asked me an odd question. “Do you want kids?”

I turned my head towards him, blinking up at his face. “Right this second or in general?”

He poked me in my side, scowling at me. “Both.”

I chuckled. “I don’t think I want them right this exact second. But yeah, I’d like to have kids, I think. I guess it would depend on who the father of said kids would be,” I teased.

My boy didn’t respond in the way I thought he would. He flopped onto his back; his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“What is it, bug?” I moved closer to him. Propping my body up on my elbow, my head resting on my hand.

“Schizophrenia is genetic,” he said softly.

Ahh. I grabbed his hand in my own, bringing it up to my lips. “And you don’t want to pass the risk on?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if that’s responsible.”

I brushed a kiss over his knuckles. “Mental illness isn’t a death sentence, Spencer. Your mother could not have schizophrenia and your child still end up with it anyway. Life is a fucked-up game of chance, Doc.” I leaned closer, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “Any rugrat would be lucky to have you for a dad. And if you don’t want to have a biological child, we can adopt.”

That caused my boy to smile. “We?”

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Brat.”

--

I realized something was coming a few days after our conversation. It might have been how squirrely Spencer was every time I was near him. It might have been the smiles Derek Morgan kept shooting at me.

But, truthfully, it was the squealing Penelope Garcia did when she saw me on Thursday morning that gave it away.

Like I’ve always said, just because you know something is coming doesn’t mean you’re ready for it.

I knew what was going to happen the next day when Spencer suggested we cook dinner together at his apartment.

Doesn’t mean I was ready for it.

“You know, I think I knew you loved me the first night we made dinner together,” he said, his eyes lifting from the stove to meet mine.

I smirked. “Was it the spilling my darkest secrets to you or the fucking you that gave it away, Doc?”

He bumped my hip with his own. “Are you sure I’m the brat?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled up at him. “The chicken is about to burn, my love.”

--

We were sitting at the kitchen table after dinner when I just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Doc, you have got to relax,” I whined, letting out a big puff of air. “You’re gonna give yourself a stroke.”

“I’m relaxed!” He insisted despite his shoulders tensing even further. “And that’s not how strokes work.”

I shot him a withering look. Sure, Doc.

“Why wouldn’t I be relaxed?”

The look on my face didn’t change.

My boy heaved out a sigh. “You know, don’t you?”

I smiled, reaching out to tap the tip of his nose with the end of my finger. “I have a strong suspicion.”

“I could just be nervous to ask you to move in with me.”

I pretended to consider this, tapping my chin. “You could be. But, that’s very fixable.” I smiled at him, resting my chin in my palm. “Spence, I think we should move in together. We’re at each other’s apartments all the time anyway. Now, I prefer the coffee shop near my house, but I like your apartment better, it has more character.” I wrinkled my nose. “We will need a new headboard, though. Or different restraints.”

The love of my life just laughed softly. “Well,” he said softly. “I guess that clears that up.”

Had I ever really loved anything before this moment? Before I sat here at this table with this man? How had I ever thought I was in love with a person before I met this curly-haired force of nature? My beautiful, nervous, darling boy.

“Just ask me, Doc.” My voice was a whisper, tears pricking in the corners of my eyes.

Spencer let out a shaky breath and gave me a very self-deprecating smile. “You’re not supposed to know I have something to ask.”

I just laughed. “Hurry up or I’ll say no.”

His shoulders relaxed at my joke and it hit me then that he was actually nervous because he thought that I might say no. It’s not even possible, baby. Not even for a second.

“Y/n,” he began, both of his hands gripping my left. “I had this whole long rambling speech planned out. I wanted to describe the moment I knew I loved you, and the moment I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” Tears were starting to escape my eyes and run down my cheeks. “I had statistics on the current divorce rates, and I had arguments about how we were the exception,” he laughed, glancing down at my hand in his own. “But none of that matters now,” he whispered.

Spencer moved out of the chair he sat in to drop to one knee in front of me. I knew it was coming, but I still felt my heart stutter at the sight.

"Y/n y/l/n, you're the most amazing thing in the entire universe. I don't need data to confirm that. You make me feel warm and safe…you make me feel happier than I ever knew was possible. I…sometimes I've felt like I was trapped in darkness, but you shine so bright I'm not afraid anymore. The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you." He took a deep breath before reaching into his right pocket, pulling out a small black box. When he opened it, I saw an antique-looking ring nestled inside. "It was my mom's," he said. "I hope that's okay. But…y/n, will you marry me? Please?"

I felt something inside of my chest inflate. Like my heart was a balloon and his words had filled me with so much love that I was about to burst. I dropped out of my chair to join him on the floor, bringing my hands up to the sides of his face, my thumb brushing away a tear that was rolling down his cheek. I tried to open my mouth and respond. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, and how I wanted nothing more than to spend every moment of the rest of my life with him.

All I managed to get out was a choked sob while I frantically nodded my head.

Spencer’s smile only made me cry harder; and when he kissed me after he slid the ring on my finger, I couldn’t remember what it was like to feel broken anymore.

--

Series tag list: @abschaffer2​ @liaabsurd​ @brokenanxiety​ @thisiscalmandits-dr​​ @less-intelligent-spencerreid​​ @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984​ @sarcasticsagittarius1998​ @101donuts​ @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners​ @fanfictionislifetho​ @annestine​ @boiled-onionrings​ @gublerspublers @dolanfivsosxox​ @lamusaeuterpe @publiusvirgilius​ @suzystuff @differentkettleoffishalltogether @georgiamae​ @thatsonezesty13​ @addie5264​ @hopefulfangirl24​ @april-14-blog​ @whateverthefuckm8​ @alissablake​

Comment/message me if you’d like to be added.

Taglist for all my writing: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo​ @justagirllookingforherplace​ @nanocoool​ @andiebeaword​ @imjusthereformggcontent​

#Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid fluff #Criminal minds fluff #dr. Spencer reid #dr. Spencer Reid fluff #reid fluff #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #ayhtdia

[nanoland]

drowstiel fic in progress

title: Clean Hands

fandom: Supernatural

pairings: Crowley/Castiel, Crowley/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester

blurb: In which Crowley is no one's first choice and he's totally fine with that! :) Really! :) :) :)

warnings: smut, cannibalism, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered

0 

Trumpets sounded. Mortar cracked. The ceiling collapsed, squashing half of Crowley’s court, and holy, horrifying light flooded into every corner.

“We are going,” Castiel growled, storming up to the throne and grabbing him by the scruff, “for a drink.”

Crowley’s tail twitched, wordlessly instructing his bodyguards to stand down. “Um. Fine?”

“Now.”

“Alright, alright. Where?”

“I don’t care.”

So Crowley teleported them to a cosy little nook in Finland, highly ranked among his personal favourites and unknown to any colleagues or enemies. It had a roaring fireplace, generously padded chairs, thick faux fur rugs, and a table by a window through which one could watch snow gently blanketing the city of Rovaniemi.

They ordered Koskenkorva and cider and Salmari and beer – or rather, Crowley did, while Castiel stared broodingly into the fire – and competed to see who could get totally hammered first.  

Castiel won. Castiel always won.

“Coke?” Crowley offered.

Scowling, the angel mumbled, “No. Nnn-o. Dean drinks Coke. Dean bought me a Coke once. Said I should try it. He always wants me to try things. Bacon and Star Wars and cowboy paraphernalia. Human things. Never wants to recipra… recipe… recital… never wants to try my things. Angel things. One-way street. Always.”

“Mmm. I can understand how that might feel invalidating, kitten. However, I was in fact offering you cocaine. Top-quality stuff, of course. Or weed?”

“Oh. Uhh – no. Thank you. Can I sit in your lap?”

With a put-upon sigh, Crowley settled back into his chair.

A woman seated across the room tutted disapprovingly as Castiel clambered onto him, twisting this way and that until he’d made himself comfortable with his legs dangling over the arm rest and his tousled head heavy on Crowley’s shoulder.

Looking her way with a pleasant, if carnivorous smile, Crowley said, “Your husband’s name is Verner. Your sister’s name is Aurelia. They’re currently having sex in your kitchen. Her bare, perky arse is resting on your oven mittens – the nice ones with the canary pattern. If you leave right now, you can catch them at it.”

“You are an abomination,” Castiel murmured into his neck as she bolted.

“You’re an absurdity,” he countered, sniffing his hair. Cheap shampoo. Cheap conditioner. Wood smoke, presumably from the boys’ latest hunt. Traces of blood. Traces of God.

The fire crackled. They drank some more.

“I gave Dean a feather,” Castiel said. “One of mine. It’s what we do to show loyalty. Admiration. When I served Heaven, I received feathers from various admirers every week.”

He sounded smug.

Adorable.

“It wasn’t sexual, mind,” he added, quickly.

“Of course.”

“Nor romantic. We don’t engage in such things. Nonetheless, it was meaningful. Is meaningful.”

“And Dean, I imagine, didn’t realize that.”

“Obviously not. I wasn’t expecting him to. He’s a human; why should he understand our customs? But I thought… I thought he’d at least ask. I was prepared for him to ask. I had an explanation ready to go. And then he didn’t. He took the feather, looked embarrassed, smiled, thanked me, and returned to doing Sam’s laundry.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ve never been so humiliated.”

Crowley gave him a consoling kiss, which he returned hungrily, though not cruelly. In this, Castiel was never cruel. Only demanding. Which was fine; Crowley liked being in demand.

When Castiel withdrew his questing tongue, he looked unsatisfied. (Brattish.) “Why must you always lurk so deep? Come forward. I want to see you.”

Huffing, like it wasn’t something he was asked to do and gladly did every time, Crowley let himself slide from his host’s brain into his eyeballs, turning them crimson; from his chest to his tongue, causing his breath to stink of petrol and graveyard dirt; from his veins to his extremities, prompting his fingernails and toenails to adopt a distinctly claw-like appearance. His expensive black socks would be ruined. “Better, birdy?”

Immediately, Castiel returned to kissing him. (Really, it felt as though he was trying to suck Crowley from his host’s mouth into his own.

Like he wants to eat me.

Crowley shivered happily.)  

Drawing back, Castiel said, “Take us to a hotel room. I want to touch your penis.”

“I live but to serve.”

It had taken Crowley a while to work out what Castiel’s odd sexual ministrations made him feel like; a stim toy. The angel liked nothing more than to fiddle with him. To tug at his chest hair, to pluck at his nipples until they were plump and rosy, and yes, to poke and pat and play with his cock until Crowley whimpered.

“I don’t understand why he’s so reluctant to open up to me,” Castiel sighed, breath-taking on black silk sheets and settled between Crowley’s thighs, twirling grey-streaked pubic hair around his index finger.

“I like opening up to you,” said Crowley, and demonstrated.

Castiel lowered his head and peered appreciatively. “Your vessel is so much furrier than mine. Like you’ve glued a badger’s pelt between your buttocks.”

Some might have found a fuckbuddy who had only two settings – i.e. ‘the worst dirty talk conceivable’ and ‘pining for another man’ – frustrating. Crowley had long since put such petty grievances aside, because he was emotionally mature. Worldly. Smooth. Definitely not because he craved Castiel’s presence all day long and whispered his name to the stars at night.

“Hurry up and stick it in me, you twat.”

As Castiel hoisted Crowley’s legs over his shoulders, he stroked the hair there too. “Mmm. So fluffy. Honestly, with all this to keep you warm, I don’t see why you have to cover yourself in so many layers.”

“You’re one to talk! You’d wear that trench to the scorching outback if you got half the chance.”

“Temperature isn’t a factor for me. Besides, Dean likes me wearing it. It gives him a sense of continuity that he lacks in other areas of his life.”

Castiel couldn’t tell the difference between a groan of pleasure and a groan of exasperation. That was for the best.

Afterwards, Crowley arranged his host such that the majority of his weight rested on Castiel’s chest. So far, it was the only reliable way to ensure he didn’t get dressed and leave the moment they were done.

“Were you busy?” Castiel asked, panting. “When I entered Hell? You probably were. You’re always busy. You work even harder than Raphael used to.”

“Never too busy for you, pet,” he purred, punctuating his assurance with a saucy wiggle.

Castiel’s phone rang.

Castiel actually answered it (rather than his usual reaction to ringing phones – his or Crowley’s – when they were in bed, which was to narrow his eyes at them until their screens cracked and they leaked smoke), which meant it was Dean.

“I am needed,” he announced, rolling Crowley off him.

With a mocking salute, Crowley slithered into the warm spot his body had left. “Godspeed, mighty warrior. Try not to lose any more feathers.”

Fumbling with his tie, Castiel said, “I’m planning to give him one more. A second chance. If he doesn’t react appropriately, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

The tie was abandoned, flopping half-knotted against his crisp white shirt. “I’ll be back for more sex. Goodbye.”

With that, he was gone.

Under his stolen skin, Crowley curled into a smoky ball and cursed the whole world. 

0 

‘Never too busy for you,’ he’d told Castiel.

‘My door’s always open,’ he’d promised Dean.

But surely they both understood that if they were going to summon him in the middle of the working day, they would, occasionally, be interrupting something?

“Is that a kidney?” said Dean, staring at the bloody lump in Crowley’s hand.

Flustered, Crowley popped it into his mouth and swallowed it. The thought occurred, a second later, that his instinctive, perfectly normal as per demon etiquette attempt to make the situation less awkward might have been ill-advised.

“I’ll just go, shall I?” he muttered dejectedly.

Dean shook his head, sighing. “Nah. Won’t make me unsee it. But we’re not kissing.”

“Could brush my teeth? Suck on a mint?”

“No. Now get your pants off. I don’t have all day.”

Dear boy. He wasn’t always like this. Often, Crowley appeared in the circle to find him red-eyed, puffy-nosed, and at least slightly drunk, and he’d touch Crowley without saying a word all evening. Other times, he’d be wound tight, buzzing with frustration after a hunt gone wrong or a fight with Castiel or Sam. On such occasions, sex would be more like a wrestling match, Dean’s quick reflexes and pickpocket cunning pitted against Crowley’s ability to lift a car with one hand, and after they’d brutalised one another for a few hours Dean would slide off Crowley’s cock with a bone-deep groan of satisfaction and sleep like the dead. Those times tended to be Crowley’s favourites.

But this was nice, too. Brisk, rude, faux-impatient – today, Dean was in a good mood. And Dean in a good mood meant one thing and one thing only.

“Jesus fu-aaah,” Crowley exhaled, having barely slipped his 100% virgin wool trousers down his thighs before the hunter entered the circle, dropped smoothly to his knees, and latched onto the waiting erection like there was a panel of judges mere metres away and a million dollar cash prize on the line.

Dean Winchester wasn’t nearly as good at sex as he thought he was. But he always, always tried his best, and sometimes that raw enthusiasm was erotic enough all on its own.

“So,” said Dean, pulling back to study his work with that critical mechanic’s eye. “Something weird happened the other day.”

“Really? To you?”

“No, not normal Winchester-brand weird. No new apocalypses brewing, far as I’m aware. Just… y’know. Odd.”

Abruptly, he stood up, wiping his lips, and took Crowley by the arm. Sweeping the edge of his shoe through the circle, he all-but-frogmarched him across the room to the old mattress he’d set up in a corner specifically for these occasions.

(They didn’t always have sex in a grimy abandoned shed three miles from the nearest road. Sometimes they had sex in grimy abandoned cars with wheels buried in knee-deep weeds or, when Dean was feeling unusually romantic, dive bar bathrooms. Crowley didn’t care. He’d fucked Napoleon III in a haystack once.)

Absentmindedly arranging Crowley to his liking, Dean said, “Cas gave me a feather.”

Unnoticed by Dean, every microorganism within a seventy-foot radius – excepting those within his own body – died in a flash of hellfire. “Oh?”

“Yeah. And not, like, a pigeon feather or whatever. One of his. Weird, right?”

“Mm. Very.”

Dean thrust into him, business-like. “You read a lot, yeah? Probably even more than Sammy. Ever found a book that analyses – I dunno – weird angel shit? Or ancient prophecies involving angel feathers?”

Goddamn rotten bloody humiliation kink, he thought moodily, feeling his cock begin to leak. Probably done more to damage my reputation than that time Lilith caught me sneaking into David Cameron’s bedroom wearing a silk chemise and a British Lop. “Not that I can recall, no.”

Giving his arse a friendly smack, Dean said, “C’mon. You gotta know something. Or, if you don’t, you gotta have a theory. I know that nasty li’l brain of yours never stops working. Why would an angel give a human a feather?”

The deranged, beautiful monster hadn’t stopped buggering him.

Even worse, Crowley hadn’t stopped liking it.

“Alright, alright,” he groaned, fingernails surreptitiously sharpening as he dragged them over the mattress. “Stop. Lemme think for a moment. No, no, scratch that. Absolutely do not stop. Oh fuck, fuck, please don’t stop.”

“Crowley,” Dean whined, and while he’d have loved to think that he was whining in passion, he knew better.

“Look, it’s a gift, yeah? He gave you a gift. Use – fuurgh – use your brain, squirrel. Why do people usually give gifts?”

A big, calloused hand wrapped around his cock. “Birthdays. Bribes. To say thank you. To say sorry. Hey, could that be it? Has he… aw, shit, has he done something stupid behind my back? Again? And he doesn’t want to admit it but he’s feeling guilty so he’s giving me weird presents? I bet that’s it.”

Crowley wasn’t certain what language he used to say, “Jesus Christ, you’re both beyond hope,” in the seconds before he came. He was only just mentally present enough to make sure it wasn’t English.

After finishing off with a hearty grunt, Dean belly-flopped onto the mattress next to him. “Fuck yeah, man. That was great. Wonder if I can use it for something? A bona fide angel feather’s gotta have serious mojo, right?”

Facedown and breathing into the pillow, Crowley made a ‘who knows?’ gesture.

“Maybe it could be made into a weapon,” Dean murmured, gently stroking Crowley’s scalp. “There’s precedent. The First Blade was a mule’s jawbone. Or maybe I could write with it – like a quill. Heh, imagine a devil’s trap drawn with an angel’s feather. That would fuck you guys up, right?”

“Sure,” Crowley rasped, lifting his head. “Why not?”

Dean yawned. “So how’s Hell? Been about a month since we last did this, so… what’s that… about a decade down there? Had any problems? Moved the furniture around?”

“No. Hell doesn’t change much these days. Lilith was the innovator. Always installing a new lake of fire here, a new torture chamber there; slaughtering her political opponents en masse; throwing out promotions and demotions and beheadings left and right. Not my style. I prefer stability. Behind my back, they say that I’m the most boring monarch Hell’s ever had. Well, no – they say that wherever they want. When they’re behind my back, they try to stab me.”

He rolled over, wincing at a twinge in his well-used arse.

“Stability’s great and all,” Dean mumbled, sounding half-asleep. “And for real, I think it’s cool that you���ve made Hell so much less… torture-y. But y’ever think about aiming higher?”

“Eh?”

“Making Hell not suck, I mean. You know? Not just stable but actually tolerable for everyone who’s gotta live there. Now and then when I’m ganking some demon dickbag, I start thinking that maybe they wouldn’t always be causing so much trouble on Earth if they liked being in Hell more.”

Crowley laughed. Long and loud. “Where’s this coming from? Is this a Sam idea? It sounds like a Sam idea. Your bleeding-heart centrist of a brother going through another introspective phase, right? Bless.”

Scowling, Dean said, “Wow, someone’s defensive. What’s wrong? Pissed that the Boy King could run the place better than you?”

“Come off it, Dean. You don’t believe that for a second. Sam’s no leader. Much less a leader of demons. And the notion of ‘fixing’ Hell… it’s Hell. It’s not meant to be fixed. It’s not meant to be tolerable, it’s not meant to be endurable. It exists to break people. Horror is its bedrock. Sure, I can tidy up, I can replace the Gitmo vibe with the good ol’ eternal queue, but I can’t make it nice.”

“Huh. Okay, I get it,” said Dean, stretching, slyness in his eyes. “It’s not that you don’t want to – it’s that you don’t think you can. You’re not powerful enough, or smart enough, or whatever. I guess that’s fair. Surprised to hear you admit it, though.”

Like a blowfish, Crowley’s smoke puffed up to thrice its usual size, spilling from his eyes, ears, and lips as he pounced on Dean and pinned him to the mattress.

“Watch your tongue, brat,” he hissed, tail manifesting with its point aimed at Dean’s throat. “I’m not your pet pigeon. Had I the magnanimity of Saint Francis himself I’d not sit here and listen to some cunting mortal question my leadership. What in the name of God’s greasy bollocks do you know about ruling anything? You’ve never so much as managed a fucking corner shop. You’ve never even been employed.”

Dean grinned. “Damn, did I touch a nerve? Sorry, sweetcheeks.”

A canine rumble poured from Crowley’s thick throat. He felt Dean’s wrist bones creak under his grip. “Arrogant little rat.”

They glared at one another, unblinking.

“You ready to go again?” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

In a violent flurry, they competed to see who could jack the other to completion first. Dean won. Dean always won.

“Same time next month?” Crowley enquired, watching him get dressed afterwards.

“Maybe. It’ll be coming up on Halloween and that’s always the worst time of year for us.”

“Mmm. Same. You’d be amazed how many false alarms we get; idiot teenagers deciding to summon a demon for fun and not actually wanting to make a deal or not letting them out of the trap afterwards. Last year, my secretary found them waiting for her with SuperSoakers full of salted holy water. Still – unless I’m busy – and, obviously, I probably will be busy – I’ll only be a phone call away if you poor lost lambs get yourselves mixed up in something you can’t handle.”

“Cool,” Dean said over his shoulder, already halfway out the door. “Catch you later.”

Crowley waited until his footsteps had faded and his scent had cleared. Then he grabbed the pillow, pressed it to his face, and screamed for forty minutes. 

(to be continued) 

#supernatural #crowstiel #drowley #crowley #castiel #dean winchester #drowstiel #fanfic #my fic

[titularkilljoy]

Black Coffee

Summary: Spencer had changed since prison. And no one seems to be able to help.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Strong language, mental health struggles, angst

Author’s note: Inspired by this post. Also, this is my first time writing for a fandom. So, don’t be gentle. Be brutally honest. 

Spencer was different these days. On that much, everyone could agree.

Everyone on the team walked on eggshells around him now, myself included. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to be there for our friend who had just gotten out of a three-month stint in prison; it was quite the opposite. All of us were waiting with bated breath for an opportunity to help. None of us wanted him to bottle up all his frustration and end up throwing books at the bureau walls again. As it was, he refused to acknowledge it or talk about it, and as a result, we all talked around it, trying to profile him without making it too obvious; trying to help him without him catching on to the fact that we were trying to help him. All in all, it was a Herculean feat. Every time he detected the slightest ounce of what he deemed to be pity, you could see his hackles raise, and an impenetrable barrier would form around him. That was incredibly unpleasant for everyone involved.

Spencer and I had been close, once. Extremely close. We had confided in each other about everything. I think he had always appreciated the fact that I never treated him like an all-knowing alien or a socially awkward little brother. It probably helped that my feelings for him were far from brotherly. But he didn’t need to know that.

Regardless, our close bond seemed to be a thing of the past. I had been there to welcome him back to the outside world on the day he was released. My heart was fuller than it had ever been, with love and relief and grief, and I had thrown my arms around him without a word. He had been stiff in my embrace for a few seconds before I felt the familiar warmth of his arms clutching me tightly. I had sighed deeply. I had missed his touch.

Since then, however, he had shut himself off. I had tried to give him space, to let him resolve those issues , which he clearly did not want to speak to me about, on his own. When that didn’t seem to work, I decided on a more hands-on approach.

For a week, I had been trying to muster the courage to follow through on that decision. But every time I tried to broach the matter, the emptiness of his gaze and the rigid set of his shoulders would stop the words in my throat. I felt like I was trying to speak to a stranger. Worse than that– I knew how to deal with traumatized victims and witnesses. Spencer was neither of those and both of those at once. Besides that, he was the ghost of my best friend. Every conversation felt like trying to breathe new life into a relationship long gone dead and cold.

Right now, he was alone in the break room. On the surface, he seemed to be going about his routine like a normal person. But to the trained eye, it was horrifying. Because he was pouring himself some coffee. A black coffee. With one sugar. Knowing him like I did, the sight was bleak, and it spurred me into action.

I set my shoulders and walked into the room. He lifted his head and nodded at me in greeting. I sidled over to the counter and set my gaze firmly on the pot of coffee as it if contained all the secrets of the universe. He leaned against the counter, staring at the opposite wall while blowing on his coffee. I cleared my throat. There was a palpable tension in the air. Maybe it was just me. He certainly didn’t seem bothered. I, however, was choking on it.

“Spencer,” I tentatively began, “I was thinking, maybe we should talk?”

I cringed at my own words even as I said them. I’d spent a week working on this and the best I could do was some sitcom staple dialogue?

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me, brow furrowing in curiosity. “About what? Is this about the case?”

“No. No, it’s not about the case.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer. He heaved a frustrated sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

“(Y/N), we really don’t have time for–-“

Another deflection. Except this time, I was expecting it, and wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes, we have time, Spencer. We’ve apprehended the suspect. We saved a victim. Today we’re doing paperwork”, I pointed out, “and this is definitely more important than paperwork.”

“If this is a personal matter then we shouldn’t be talking about it here anyway,” he said in a clipped tone. He was getting defensive.

“You’re right, Spencer.” That took him by surprise, and I was rewarded with his grudging attention.

“You’re right. This conversation shouldn’t be happening here. Except, you’ve been dodging my calls for a month. You pretend you’re not home when I show up at your apartment. You won’t even say a word to me that isn’t about work.” I let the frustration I felt bleed into my words; he needed to know this wasn’t a profiler’s attempt to poke and prod at his psyche. It was just me, and I wanted my best friend back.

“I’ve been busy,” he hedged, but there was a trace of guilt in his eyes. He had never liked seeing me hurt, after all.

“Don’t lie to me, Spencer,” I practically begged, “You’re shutting me out. I know you’re struggling. It’s so damn obvious that you’re struggling. I just want to help you. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m not asking you to! And I don’t need your help,” he spat with a scowl. “I’m not struggling. I can do this job just as well as you or anyone else on the team can, if not better.”

The sting from those words was overshadowed by my incredulity. “Are you serious? Spencer, this isn’t about the fucking job!” I cried in frustration. “This is about you. I care about you. You’re in pain, and I don’t understand why you won’t let me help. You used to tell me everything.”

He let out a dark chuckle, placing the mug back on the counter and standing up straight. For the first time in what felt like forever, he stared right into my eyes. Except I would have given anything not to be on the receiving end of that stare. It was so full of malice and bitterness; it was so unlike my Spencer.

“You’re so fucking transparent,” he began in a low tone, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. Spencer wasn’t usually one for expletives, especially not at work.

“You claim to be worried about me, but you’re really only worried about yourself. You’re lonely, and you can’t form a real connection with anyone. Now that you don’t have me as your emotional crutch, you’re projecting those issues onto me. Typical.”

My jaw dropped against my will. “Spencer, that’s not fair,” I managed to whisper around the lump in my throat. But he wasn’t done yet. Nostrils flaring, he towered over me menacingly.

“Oh, it’s not fair. What isn’t fair is you trying to jeopardize my already precarious position at the FBI by bringing this kind of petty drama into my life. Not everything is about you.”

“I never said it was!” I practically yelled, shocked into anger.

“Yes, but you clearly think it is. You’re not actually worried about me. You just want things to go back to normal. You want me to be the old Spencer again. Sweet, naïve Spencer who would have gladly let you string him along for his entire life. Admit it.”

“String you along? What the fuck are you talking about? How about the other way around? And it’s fucking rich that you’re accusing me of not being able to form a meaningful connection when you’re the one who’s so scared that we’re going to reject you that you’ve completely shut us out. Your fucking family who went through hell and back to get you out. We don’t care that you’re not the same Spencer. No one expects you to be! But I’m sick of all of us talking around the big fat elephant in the room and I’m scared I’m going to find you drugged up and dead on the floor of your apartment one day!”

We were right in each other’s faces at this point, and I was breathing heavily. Surrounding us was a pregnant silence. Spencer’s face had settled into an unreadable mask that I desperately tried to decipher anyway.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was cold as he delivered the killing blow.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. So, I’m not going to talk about it. That’s my decision. You’re not entitled to my confidence, (Y/N). Not anymore. Just leave me alone.”

Every word was well enunciated, and I knew he meant them. He was done with me. When he stormed out of the room, I collapsed back against the counter, trying to call out his name but my vocal cords refusing to cooperate.

I didn’t know how I felt. When your body suffers a massive injury, it numbs you for a while, to protect you. You often don’t even realize you’ve been hurt. But after the numbness fades, your entire body feels like it’s on fire. I supposed that was as good a way as any to explain what was happening to me at that moment. Something so monumental and world-shattering had just occurred that I was being given a few moments of numbness as a reprieve, before the pain would inevitably consume me.

I remained rooted to my position for uncomfortably long time before I realized several pairs of eyes were focused on me, trying and failing to be subtle at it. Overcome with a sudden wave of nausea, I rushed to the restroom. Splashing some cold water in my face, I stared at myself in the mirror.

Well, I thought, that backfired pretty spectacularly.

I closed my eyes and came to the grim realization that prison had left some indelible scars on Spencer. We had all been turning a blind eye to it–- we’d been hoping against all odds that Spencer’s endlessly resilient innocence would be preserved, even in the face of solitary confinement and selective memory loss. After all, the man had literally died and been resurrected, once. He had fought a drug addiction all on his own. He had been parenting his schizophrenic mother since he was a child. He was strong. If anyone could come out of this intact, we had reasoned, it would be Dr Spencer Reid. Being faced with clear evidence to the contrary was a bitter reminder that life always managed to snuff out light and goodness wherever it was found.

I kept my head down on my way to my desk. I made it halfway before I heard Hotch call my name. Garcia was at Morgan’s desk and she offered me an anxious, pitying smile. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I turned and met his sympathetic yet firm gaze squarely, summoning a confidence I did not feel as I took the detour into his office. What other choice did I have? Life had to go on.

                                ___________________

The next two weeks were tense, to say the least. Spencer and I could barely stand to be on opposite ends of the briefing room with each other. Hotch, perceptive as always, was gracious enough not to pair us up on either of the two cases we worked in that time. I threw myself into the gory details of case files and victimology, refusing to address the fact that I felt like I had lost a limb. I couldn’t succumb to that. Not quite yet, at least. Spencer, for his part, remained inscrutable, although I noticed Morgan and Emily trying to talk to him on more than one occasion. I appreciated their support, but Spencer had made himself very clear. There was nothing anyone could do.

I was dead on my feet when we finally wrapped up the case in Seattle. Derek Morgan needed to learn the meaning of the word “no”, because he still dragged me to some pub I can barely remember the name of. The memory loss could probably be attributed to the blackout drinking I embarked on that night. I drank, downing whiskey shot after whiskey shot until I lost my inhibitions and started giggling and singing along tunelessly to the music, then I drank some more until I felt comfortable enough to dance, and then I kept drinking until I hit the stage where I started sobbing. I usually knew to cut myself off before then. That night, though, my senses seemed to have left me entirely. To curb the sobbing, I drank some more, and that was about the point where I blacked out.

I woke up the next morning in a hotel room, ruing the day I was born, but there was an unopened bottle of water and some aspirin on the table, next to a note from Emily saying she was downstairs with the others. I gingerly caressed my forehead, groaning, before forcing myself out of bed and into the day.

The dark sunglasses I wore did little to make me feel better, and the teasing from Morgan about my alleged shenanigans the previous night did even less to that end. I boarded the jet with a grateful sigh, relieved that I could just curl up and go to sleep.

Alas, that wasn’t what the universe had planned for me, it seemed, because moments after I had nodded off, a hand on my shoulder gently shook me awake. I opened my mouth, ready to yell at whoever it was, but what came out instead was an embarrassing squeak.

Because standing in front of me, clutching a Starbucks cup, was none other than Spencer Reid.

He looked different. Different, and familiar. There was no tightly wound coil. There was no steel in his eyes. There was only warmth.

I eyed the cup in his hands curiously. Had he taken to tempting diabetes with his coffee once again? Had this mess all just been one long sugar crash?

He looked immensely sheepish as he murmured, apparently mindful of my piercing headache, “Can I sit?”

I nodded dumbly, enraptured by the sight of him sinking into the seat across from me, his knees almost knocking into mine. Was I just having a really good dream? Was I still drunk?

“(Y/N),” he whispered, and it felt like I’d travelled back in time. To back before our fight, before prison, before Mr Scratch, before Cat.

“I owe you an apology. Several, actually. I– you have to know that I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I was just lashing out. Textbook defensive behaviour.” He paused, watching me. I just stared back at him. I could only imagine what he saw on my face that made him continue even more gently, if that was even possible.

“You’re my best friend. You always have been. And you were absolutely right when you accused me of being worried about rejection. I- I’m not the same, anymore. I’ve never been particularly fond of myself, but now, I don’t even recognize myself.” He sounded miserable, and all I wanted to do was hug him. I stayed put, though. He looked like he really needed to finish what he had to say.

“I feel…darker, somehow. And I didn’t want to infect you with that. I didn’t want to hurt you. And instead, I hurt you more than I possibly could have if I’d just let you help me. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I–“

“Spencer,” I finally interjected, and slowly, deliberately, reached out and took one of his hands in both of mine. “Yes, you’re an idiot,” I conceded, trying to hold back the relief that was flooding my entire body, “but I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’re not going to pull that shit again. I’m serious, Spencer. You’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting me, you’re hurting the team. We need you. I need you”, I said vehemently, and that was as close to a confession as I would get. At least, for the foreseeable future.

His face told me he heard the unsaid, and the dark guilt clouded his face once again. He was remembering what he’d said to me. String me along, he’d thrown out. Steady determination chased the guilt, and he opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

“No. Not now. You need help. You know how I feel about you. But we can’t right now. It’s not fair to either of us.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but I tried to convey as much sincerity through my eyes as I could. We’ll have our chance, I tried to tell him. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on me, I implored.

Slowly, he nodded. For the first time in half a year, my heart felt light. I knew there would be plenty of hurdles to navigate, but for now, the promise of his company in doing so was enough.

“Besides,” I said seriously, “we need to talk about this bad habit of ours.”

The bafflement on his face was familiar, and I grinned, biting my lip.

“Having these intense conversations in front of everyone in the FBI absolutely has to stop,” I clarified, staring at each of the other people on the jet pointedly. They were doing a very good job of looking busy. Morgan had a smirk on his face. I caught his eye for a second, and we shared a smile.

My comment made Spencer chuckle. “I’ll, uh- I’ll let you get back to your nap then.”

“Oh, thank God,” I groaned dramatically, pulling the blanket over my head to block out the dim light.  It served another purpose; as I listened to the soft cadence of his retreating footsteps, it obscured the smile which threatened to rip my face in two. Morgan would never let me live that down.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #angst #post prison spencer

[jimlingss]

Ducklings & Dimples 2

Original / Sequel

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 58% Fluff, 20% Adventure, 20% Action, 2% Angst, Historical!AU - kind of

➜ Summary: After your adventures with Yoongi, you head home to face your family and the duties you've run from. A year has passed since. But you never anticipated meeting him again with his fiancée.

The country of Pegan is one you’ve never had the opportunity to venture into. It was a place that you teetered on, scaling the border, poking your head into one or two of the small villages just to sell in before you were on your way. But you had heard lots about it in his letters. You just never thought you would be visiting it in such a way. Ten round towers form a protective barrier around the elegant castle and are connected by firm walls made of gray stone. Refined windows are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern. Beyond the gates are well kept gardens with fragrant flowers, gorgeous trees and many bushes that decorate the outside of the castle. The castle itself has clearly been around for at least a thousand years, but it doesn't seem like it will collapse any time soon. “Back straight. You’re slouching, Taehyung,” your mother barks to your youngest brother and sharply inhales when Jin purposely bumps into him with his broad shoulders, telltale signs he’s trying to instigate more bickering. “Stop that right now, young man. You’re supposed to set an example as the eldest.” “I wasn’t even doing anything!” Jin protests to no avail. Taehyung’s mouth curls as he jumps on the opportunity to berate his older brother, “You’re twenty six. You should act like it.” Seokjin’s mouth drops open. “How dare you bring my age into this.” “Can you guys please shut your mouths for one second?” Lia is exasperated and glares. “People are staring at us.” “Now, now, children.” Your dad clears his throat and brushes off his shoulders. “Let’s not give your mother a hard time and argue in front of the Duchess’ castle.” Your mother holds in her sigh temporarily and makes it to your sister, smoothing out her dress that’s been wrinkled from the carriage ride. “Hair in place, darling.” Then she makes it to the end of the line and looks at you. Your eyes meet hers and you anticipate nagging. Perhaps an insult of how strands of hair have fallen from your updo and around your eyes. Or how you should get rid of that frown off your face before she singes it off. But to your surprise, your mother merely smiles and swivels around. “Shall we enter?” She’s trying — you can see it and it’s an effort you appreciate. Your entire family climbs the marble steps leading up to the grand doors already open with folks filtering inside. It was the Duchess of Pegan’s birthday, a week long affair and evidently, a huge celebration. Much too extravagant for your own tastes, but it’s not like your opinion matters. “Kaela, Elden!” The man in the foyer comes over with a golden chalice and his wife trails after him. Immediately, your mother curtsies along with your sister and you dip down after a delayed second, momentarily forgetting the manners drilled into your brain. “Duke and Duchess Fesan. It’s a pleasure.” “Oh please, don’t be a stranger. It’s been too long!” The older man has silver, short hair that almost fully covers his thin, lived-in face. But his eyes are fond as if he has seen many good things in his lifetime. Fesan Winsor is a duke, brother to the king that runs Pegan. You only know such facts after the relentless history lessons with your overbearing tutor. He gives a light embrace to your mother and father, nods his head towards you and Lia, and shakes Seokjin’s hand. “Why, you’ve grown to be such a strapping, young man. Handsome, indeed. The last I’ve seen of you, you were but a wee boy.” “Thank you.” Jin practically beams over the praise and you and Taehyung roll your eyes. “Are you looking to get married any time soon?” His irises sparkle. “Do you have someone in mind, your grace?” The Duke barks out laughing at the witty quip and your mother audibly sighs. “Seokjin’s much too deep in finishing his studies to be considering marriage, unfortunately. And a bit too immature to handle the responsibilities of such a thing.” “Oh you never know about children,” Duchess Jacquelyn laughs boisterously. “They always grow up faster than we realize.” The Duchess is in a lavish dress that looks like it’s about to swallow her whole, flashy to the maximum and heavy diamonds are wrapped around her neck. It makes you wonder if it aches. Her golden hair is stark with a bit of gray, yet she is bright eyed and overly friendly as she squeezes the living daylights out of Lia and then you. It’s unusual how she has no respect for personal boundaries or what’s mannerly for a high-class lady that she is. There’s small talk made between your father and the Duke, but as the Duchess pulls away from you, her face lights up as if she recalls something. “Wait a moment! You are Y/N, correct?” “Uh, yes. I am, madam.” “Then you were the one who defeated that vicious dragon from the North with Yoongi, weren’t you?! Why your tale of bravery is infamous!” She grasps your hands with an excited smile. You swallow hard, not sure how you feel about being viewed as a hero when you’re not. But you don’t say anything for fear of having to explain. It’s not like you told your own family the true story. “Yes, what an amazing feat,” Duke Winsor marvels. “You must be very prideful to have such a hero in the family.” Your mother is visibly pleased while your dad plops a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N is indeed turning out to be the best sorcerer in our family.” “You would be too if you studied more,” Taehyung mutters to Lia and nudges her while she glares at him. “What about you, Mr. I’m-too-tired-to-practice-magic.” “Children,” your mother’s voice is full of scolding but a pleasant smile is placed on her features. It’s frightening and jarring how different her expression can be from what comes out of her mouth. “Oh, you must be so eager to see your old friend.” The Duchess turns over her shoulder. “Yoongi was here just a moment ago.” You nod stiffly, tight-lipped. “I’ll make sure to send my greetings to him later.” The middle-aged folks continue talking as you and the rest of your siblings stand there like stone statues that are decorating the castle. But as you look around the crowds, fearing the worst, you feel Jin poke you. “Was that the guy you were sending letters to every day?” he asks, referring to what Duchess Jacquelyn said. “Shut it.” Taehyung raises his brows with an amused smile, but no one speaks. It’s become a sensitive topic but always has been — you’ve never let any of them see your letters and you threw a big fuss on several occasions when Lia tried to sneak peaks. Now you regret it. Why did you spend so much time doing such petty, futile things. Eventually, you’re granted mercy when the Duke and Duchess continue welcoming new arrivals and everyone disperses for drinks. And unlike what they said, you’re not eager to see your old ‘friend’ at all. You’re trying to steer clear of him. “What are you doing standing here in the corner?” Your mother finds you reclusive with a flute of ale. It’s not the most sophisticated drink, but does enough to put you more at ease. Though, much to your dismay, she pries the glass out of your grip. “You should be socializing! Making connections. Like your brother!” She turns and you see Taehyung by the refreshment table with a younger girl who looks visibly uncomfortable. He barks out in deafening laughter, startling a few other guests and your mother sighs while you hold back a smile. “Maybe not quite like him.” “Is there something you want to say, mom?” It’s not like her to be so vague and to encourage you to talk to others. She’s always been apprehensive about you mingling, assuming you’re trying to scam them — which you usually are, so her caution isn’t unreasonable. “There’s a divine soul sorcerer,” she announces and instantly, you groan. “Of course there is.” “Don’t give me that look. You haven’t even spoken to him yet.” Unlike how you receive your magic from a legendary phoenix, divine soul sorcerers are blessed individuals who have a connection to divine beings. Whether they align with an ancient prophecy or their ancestor is an angel. They’re undoubtedly someone who could match the status of your family. You’re starting to suspect the reason your mother even came all the way over here was to get you to meet him. “Fine, I’ll talk to him,” you say, just to get her off your back. Your mother’s wrinkles crease when she smiles. “Good to hear. Now that’s one less issue off my plate— “ “I think Taehyung’s trying to impress that girl,” you interrupt, tilting your body over to the youngest who’s about to set the tablecloth on fire. Your mother practically swears underneath her breath and goes marching over without bidding you farewell. There’s a faint smile on your features and as a Halfling waiter passes, you grab a glass of manycherries wine. You release a long exhale, feeling your eyes bags deepen as exhaustion sets into you. Your eyes flicker to the fire roaring underneath the mantle. The rose and orange flames glow against your cheeks. Your fingers. And incidentally, it grows stronger. You feel the fire envelop you. The chatter of the room simmers down as you focus on the crackle and pop of the inferno. But unfortunately, it doesn’t last long. Not with the shrill voices close to you— “It’s a surprise, no? Even the Duke’s fiftieth birthday wasn’t as extravagant as this. All five houses are here and they even extended the invitations to families beyond Pegan.” “Well perhaps they had a good season or maybe one of the houses expanded their territory and we just haven’t heard about it yet. The Duke and Duchess looks after the entire territory and all the faction houses. It’s only natural they benefit from any changes, right?” “Don’t you two know?” “Know what?” “The reason this celebration is lavish….is because it’s practically an engagement party in disguise.” You exhale out of your nose, downing the glass of wine and when you finish, you see a familiar face in the midst. It’s a slender half-Elf with long blonde hair that’s half tied up and reaches to his ribs. Yorril. You remember his name after beating his ass with Yoongi in Bogsburrough a year ago. The memory causes the corner of your mouth to tug in a smirk. He sees you too and immediately turns away, walking off with his eyes wide. There are lots of people from different factions here, but you don’t know any of their names and don’t care to. Though out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a tall man in a white cape fluttering behind with his eyes focused right on you — undoubtedly the divine sorcerer your mother was referring to by his blinding aura — and you take Yorril’s inspiration and walk away as well. You drop your glass on a nearby table and zip into the dark hallway without looking back. You’re not sure where you’re going, merely winding down the corridors. But eventually your steps slow. Goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm. It feels like you’re being watched. Like there’s someone creeping. That there’s a presence behind you. But before you can turn around to discern what it is, a husky timbre makes you halt. “...alright?” At once your body seizes, freezing in its stop. Your blood runs warmer and your back meets the stone wall. There’s a sliver of light coming from the parted door inches away and you pull your orb out from the secret pocket you sewn into your dress. Gripping the object, you channel your magic and cast clairvoyance. The hearing sensor is placed behind the door. “Thank you, Yoongi.” It’s an unfamiliar soft-spoken voice. You hear his hum. “You’re welcome.” “I’m sorry. I know there’s a lot of people out there. I didn’t think my mother would invite so many people. It’s usually not like her to do this and—” “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind as much as you think I do.” “Really?” “I can’t say I enjoy it, but it’s not so bad every so often.” You swallow hard, feeling your heart clog your throat. Though before you can hear another thing, a hand plops down on your shoulder. And you nearly shriek in surprise. Out of all people, you turn to find dad wearing a mischievous smile that Taehyung and Seokjin inherited, and he nudges his chin to the door. “Your mother wouldn’t like you eavesdropping, you know. Come on, let’s go back.” You nod, following after him. The two of you return to the main room and step out into the terrace, away from the crowd. “There’s plenty of other men out there, Y/N.” “I know,” you mutter without looking at him, unable to help sulking. The older man smiles, having an inkling of why you’ve been so quiet. “It’s okay for you to be upset. Everything’s a process of trial and error. And it’s something that’ll come and go in due time.” You sigh lightly, trying to muster a smile that never really comes. “You want me to meet that divine soul sorcerer like mom, don’t you?” “Heavens no.” Your dad pats you on the back as you look out into the gardens. “I just want the best for my daughter.” You meet his eye and he grins. It’s moments like these that you’re glad you came home. “Elden!” The pair of you turn around as an older woman with cat-like eyes and a piercing stare steps out onto the terrace, her slender black dress sparkling like the stars. “My goodness, it’s been ages!” “Hyoyeon.” Your dad gives a laugh. “You haven’t aged a day!” They come to an embrace and she pulls away. “Oh, you’re too kind. Have you met my son yet?” Your worst nightmare emerges. Yoongi is dressed in a black tunic, pants, boots and a black velvet cape draped over his left side. He looks less like a knight on a quest and more like a prince. But one thing that hasn’t changed is his duckling-like hair. Strands of pale yellow that stand out. His eyes immediately center on you in surprise. As if he wasn’t expecting you here. And of course he wasn’t. You hated functions and celebrations like these, but once you heard the rumours, you couldn’t help but beg to come. Or maybe he’s giving you that expression because of how odd you look. You suppose he’s never seen you in anything other than braids and that peasant dress that you used to disguise yourself in. Now, your mother wouldn’t catch you dead in attire like that. But with him comes the Duke’s daughter, Fesan Klarinda, the Marquise of Pegan. She’s petite with spiral curls and dimples dotted in each side of her cheek. She’s the epitome of delicate. Instantly, the girl looks between you and Yoongi, realizing that your gazes are locked into one another’s. “Y/N.” He breathes it out and something swells inside your throat to hear him call your name. It’s hard to keep your face blank and impassive. Yoongi’s mother glances at him and then you. “You know each other?” “She was my partner during my adventure.” “She helped you defeat the dragon? Y/N from the great Phoenix family?” his mother gasps and nudges him. With her teeth gritted, she mutters, “Why didn’t you tell me that? Had I known….” Your dad’s laugh cuts through the suffocating tension. “Such a small world indeed. But I’m glad to finally meet the man who protected my daughter. Congratulations on your engagement, son.” “It’s nice to meet you,” Yoongi’s fiancée says with a demure smile and you give a curtsy without uttering a word. “Is your eldest son here, Hyoyeon?” “Oh, Hoseok unfortunately couldn’t make it to the occasion. He’s busy studying arcane magic in a monk temple in Baldur's Gate. So I only have my youngest with me today.” “Not at all! Education is of the utmost priority for the children.” While they speak, Klarinda clears her throat. “There must be a lot to catch up on since you and Yoongi are fairly close, I heard.” “Yes, he is a great friend to me, my lady.” Yoongi’s eye twitches, but you pay no mind. You don’t speak a single word to him and while it’s terribly awkward, you seize the opportunity to leave. “I find myself a bit parched. If you'll excuse me.” You get away as quickly as you can while grabbing fistfuls of your heavy dress, feeling more strands falling out of your updo. But being out of his presence doesn’t mean you’ve escaped. You feel the weight of Yoongi’s intent gaze on you all night, from across the room to the table. You’re barely able to survive dinner and the food’s not at all charred enough to your tastes. You’re beginning to regret coming here. Even when you knew you had to see it for yourself. “Excuse me. I believe you are Lady Y/N, right?” After dinner, the divine soul sorcerer finally corners you at a moment when your guard is down, having been too focused on Yoongi. The man has silver hair neatly coiffured, but the colour isn’t from age nor is it lackluster. It matches his cape and white attire. Undoubtedly, the sorcerer has an otherworldly appearance. He’s handsome and practically radiant to that of an angel’s. And he draws attention, causing girls to turn their heads and swoon for him. You can only imagine his power and it’s no wonder your mother has insisted that you meet him. But you are far from being impressed. “You are?” “Allow me to introduce myself! I am Jinha, a favoured soul sorcerer. Son of the magnificent Concordia House here in Pegan. My ancestor was the chosen one of the Goddess Mystra.” His palm opens and he glances at your hand. But you don’t entertain the idea of him kissing your knuckles, so he retracts his arm after an awkward moment. He clears his throat. “You look absolutely ravishing. The most beautiful person at this party aside from myself of course,” he quips. You deadpan, “Thanks.” “Are you enjoying the party?” Hardly. “I am.” “Have you tried any of the crab-stuffed lobster tail yet—?” “I much prefer the wine.” You grab a glass from the tray of a stubby butler passing by and you down half of it. When you lower the glass, you find that he’s still there, smirking like an idiot. While this relationship would be textbook perfect, you hate sorcerers. You are one, have three siblings that are, spent your childhood surrounded by them. So you know best how arrogant and entitled sorcerers can be. You bet he spends his free time looking in the mirror. Plus, there’s already enough magic in you for two people. “I happened to speak to your mother earlier, Lady Y/N.” “Did you?” “She said you’ve been traveling before. I have been traveling across the lands myself, so we have quite a bit in common.” “Yes,” you answer in a monotone and then your eyes light up as you spin around on your heel to him. “Actually, she might’ve not told you but I run a business.” “A business?” “I’m a business woman. It’s gotten a bit pushed to the side since I’ve gotten home, but maybe I should start it back up again.” “What kind of business is it?” Jinha stands straighter as if to show how capable he is. “I would love to help.” “Would you?” A feigned coy smile comes across your face and you lean in to graze his shoulder. “I have quite a bit of valuables collected and a lot of ancient potions I sell. All from my travels. You’re actually very fortunate since I have one with me. Would you like to buy one? I’ll be willing to give it to you at a reduced price of ten gold pieces.” Since the first time you’ve arrived, you feel energy return to you. But then much to your dismay, the damned sorcerer apologizes— “I don’t actually have any gold on me right now.” “How about your ring.” You point downward, never breaking eye contact. “This is once in a lifetime opportunity.” Either your skills are rusty or he’s denser than a rock because your persuasions don’t get through. “I would never dare to give you such a worthless ring, Lady Y/N! With so many shiny valuables practically overflowing out of the hundreds of rooms at my enormous manor, you deserve something much more precious. Perhaps we could arrange a time when you could come visit my massive estate.” You audible sigh, not even trying to hide it. For the next ten minutes, the sorcerer bores you with speech about himself, his family, how he personally knows the Duke, how he’s expanding his manor to have two more gardens and five more fountains, and how delicious the crab-stuffed lobster tail is. You barely manage to escape, simply excusing yourself to find your sister. But as you turn the corner, away from prying eyes and ears, you grip your orb in your pocket and channel your arcane magic. You cast disguise self and at once, you take the form of the stubby butler from earlier. A foot shorter, larger, and white tailcoat with black breeches. Your empty glass even turns into a tray and you strut down the corridor with your head held high. You’re going to leave. Out the front door. Never to return. Coming here was a mistake — and confronting Yoongi isn’t something you think you have in you. You’re better suited to having no real relationships, no commitment, no attachments. Merely traveling around and scamming others is what you do best. After all, things were easier back then when you had no direction. There was less emotional turmoil. Fewer obligations. Fewer consequences. But regrets are a little too late, so in the heat of the moment, you throw away your hard-earned compromise with your mother and decide to run. Yet, before you can even think of launching yourself out the open arched window, your eyes grow wide at the man at the end of the hall. Yellow strands of hair catch your attention first. Then it’s the sleepy eyes. The tender features. Immediately, you pull your gaze away from him and stare ahead. It’s not too hard to make yourself unsuspicious when you’re disguised as a butler and Yoongi seems to pay no mind to you either. He merely walks past and you breathe a sigh of relief. But then strong arms wrap around your waist and your back meets a firm chest. The spell breaks. He saw right through you. Right through your illusion. Yoongi’s soft exhale causes goosebumps to rise all over your arms. “Thank god, it’s you. I was worried that it was really the butler.” His timbre is huskier than you remember. You stumble out of his embrace and turn around. “I apologize, sir. I wasn’t trying to create any trouble. ” “Sir?” Yoongi’s brows furrow, deep enough that it looks like it hurts. Neither of you say anything for a long moment as he stares at you and you divert your vision, preferring to admire how smooth the white pillars of the castle look. Then, his hand suddenly reaches out to graze the loose strands of hair that have fallen from your updo. It’s a gentle gesture and he quietly comments, “Your hair’s gotten longer.” But you don’t react. “How have you been?” he asks faintly. “Fine.” You keep your reply curt and short. Distant. “Congratulations on your engagement, sir.” “Y/N.” He sounds annoyed. “Let me explain—” But when you finally meet his gaze, your eyes are painfully stinging and his voice tapers off. You curse underneath your breath, having tried so hard to keep yourself together. Yet the effort to prevent humiliation is being swept down the drain, so you grab fistfuls of your dress and march away. “Y/N!” Yoongi doesn’t chase after you. You snivel violently, doing all you can to not let tears shed. You fail to watch where you’re going and you run into your older sister. “Where have you…..are you okay?” Lia looks down at you, her eyes wide at your state. You merely shake your head and her lips pout as she pulls you in. She doesn’t need to ask. “It’s okay. There, there. No one’s going to hurt you.” She’s wrong. You’ve already been hurt. // Min Yoongi is a bastard. You’ve sorely underestimated his abilities. He manipulates emotions better than you can, but you’re more so angry at yourself for misinterpreting memories. For allowing your imagination to take its course. After all, it’s easier to transform your hurt into anger than reveling in sorrow. You’ve never been the type to be passive. The morning after the banquet, there are tournaments out on the East field. You’re seated at the rows near the Duke and Duchess with the rest of your family. Taehyung is watching intently while Seokjin prefers to wave to girls seated a few seats down much to your mother’s dismay. You’re sitting beside Lia who has her parasol to shield the sun away and is fanning herself to keep sweat from her face. She hasn’t teased you about last night, not when it looked serious enough. But she hasn’t pried either, even though you know eventually she will. Curiosity has always been a fault in your family — second to recklessness. You watch as two men below fight, one with a bow and the other with a mace. You don’t recognize them, merely knowing they’re from different factions. And that they seem to be taking their hatred out on each other. “Ooh.” Taehyung sharply inhales when the Elf with the mace slashes the Half-Elf holding the bow. “That looks like it hurts.” The Half-Elf surrenders and the Halfling referee calls an end to the match. “It’s so hot out,” Lia pants and wipes her forehead with a handkerchief. “Since when did you care about sweating or not?” you ask, lolling your head to the side. She clicks her tongue. “Tch. Don’t you know how many potential suitors are here? I have to look my best. You should too.” “Can I leave?” you ask your mother, tilting yourself to her. Seokjin whirls his head around. “I second that.” “Absolutely not,” she hisses and glances over her shoulder, making sure that the Duke and Duchess aren’t listening. “We are honoured guests and it would be very rude.” “At least wait until the intermission,” your father adds with a charming smile. With that said, you sit back and try to get comfortable. From below, the Halfling referee steps up to his podium and announces through a cone, “For our next match, on the right is Jinha, divine sorcerer from the House of Concordia. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” Your breath hitches in your throat. Immediately, Lia nudges you. “Who’s that?” Her eyes are pinpointed to the obnoxious man from last night who emerges while sweeping his hair back, his golden staff carried in his grasps. But you’re preoccupied with the other man. Someone with pastel yellow hair. Even from far away, it’s all too stark against his heavy armour. And you swear he’s looking right at you. Or maybe not. It could be for his fiancée who’s diagonal to where you are. That would make more sense. You damn yourself for being delusional again. “So that’s him?” Taehyung turns to you, asking, “The one you sent letters to?” “I never did such a thing,” you mutter. The Halfling shouts at the top of his lungs and the match begins. Yoongi grips his rapier in his hands and closes the distance. He hits twice, slamming down the blade onto Jinha with narrowed eyes and then surges forward for a critical hit. His accuracy and precision has become more refined since the last time you saw him fight. Yet, Jinha never bumbles or falls to his knees in spite of the brutality. He tightens his grip on his staff, jaw clamping down. He casts burning hands. His fingers spread and a thin sheet of flames shoots forth from his outstretched fingertips. It causes Yoongi to stumble back and the sorcerer turns his head, flashing a bright grin towards the rows, undoubtedly for you. But you aren’t fazed — not when you’re at the edge of your seat, gaze placed on Yoongi. Lia, on the other hand, is the one who’s impressed. Her jaw draws open, a soft gasp befalling her lips as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Across the field, your eyes lock into Yoongi’s. And then he’s moving again, blade slashing thrice. Jinha surrenders. “I should challenge you!” Taehyung suddenly breaks both you and Lia’s trance with his loud and startling voice, looking directly at Seokjin with a rectangular grin. “Do you want to fight?” “Actually, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” A wide smile spreads into your older brother’s face. “Do you think you could take me on?” Taehyung’s already rolling up his sleeves. “You’re just going to have to wait and s—” Your mother immediately pulls him down with the force of gravity itself. Her eyes pierce into your siblings. “Absolutely not! I won’t have any of my children fighting and hurting themselves!” The Halfling referee turns. “Does anyone want to challenge the victor of this mat—” You stand. “I do!” Your mother is absolutely mortified. Your father is taken aback. Taehyung is already smiling with a murmured ‘awesome’ while both Seokjin and Lia are visibly amused. There’s little your parents can do too when the Duchess starts clapping and hollering for you to enter the field and the Duke wishes you luck, citing that he’s excited to see the true capabilities of your household. “For our next match on the right is Y/N, phoenix sorcerer from the Kim Phoenix Household. And to our left is Yoongi, knight fighter from the House of Min and the Order of the Black Sun!” From the distance, no one can hear the two of you. No one can discern the way Yoongi’s looking at you. How he’s deflated, sword drooping by his side, his form not at all ready. “I’m not going to fight you,” Yoongi declares with the furrow of his brows. You scoff. “Then you’re weak.” Gripping your spellcasting focus, your blazing red and orange swirling orb, you channel your magic and cast fireball. A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger towards him, blossoming with a low roar into an explosion of flames. But it misses when he nimbly dodges out of the range. The spectators cheer, on the edge of their seats. Yoongi, realizing that you’re not conceding, moves towards you. He grips his rapier and hits twice, bringing his blade down to slash. You sharply inhale, but keep your feet rooted into the ground and as he raises his arm for the third time, it slips. The weapon falls to the ground. “Pick it up,” you spit at him in Elvish, straightening out your spine again. Gasping, you cast Melf’s Minute Meteors and six tiny meteors manifest. They float in the air and orbit you until you send both of them towards him. It misses, exploding on the ground instead. Yoongi grabs his sword, but when he hits you, it’s weak. It barely skims you. Doesn’t even break through skin. And he drops his rapier again. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” This time, the shout isn’t coming from you but from Duchess Jacquelyn who’s crazed as she grips the banister and cackles maniacally. The Duke stares at her in discomfort at how wrapped up she is and Yoongi’s fiancée, Klarinda, shakes her head. “Mom.” You have no plans of surrendering. Even if you drop dead here. You cast fireball again and this time, the blossoming roar of the flames consumes Yoongi. You hear him cry out in agony and you send two meteors orbiting you his way. One misses, but the other one explodes on his chest. Yoongi’s teeth clenches. His knuckles turn white. But before he surges forward with his rapier, the smoke dissipates and he sees you. Tears in your eyes. The trembling of your bottom lip. The quivering of your entire frame. And no one hears when you softly curse him— “Bastard.” Yoongi drops his sword into the dirt. “I forfeit.” At once, Klarinda races down the rows, grabbing fistfuls of her dress. “Excuse me, pardon me!” She races down the field undignified, but to resume to her fiancé’s side. She searches his expression. “A-Are you alright, Yoongi? I can heal you.” She casts cure wounds and presses her palms to his pectorals over his armour. And after she does so, she looks between you and Yoongi. But by that time, you’ve long grabbed your own dress and marched off the field, leaving the two lovers behind. At the exact same moment, a ghostly presence fades from the open arched window on the fourth floor, their eyes having been pinpointed on your figure for the entirety of the match. // There’s someone watching you. You can tell with the way goosebumps raise all over the back of your arm, hairs on the back of your neck lifted, how there’s a sudden weight of someone’s stare on your shoulders. It feels like there’s someone creeping, a presence behind you. Your heel pivots. “Yoon—” But it isn’t him or any of your siblings. A translucent force tries to push itself into your body, causing your words to choke in your throat, your weakened knees to stumble back. Your lungs wither and your throat dries as the remaining air inside you wheezes out. But you resist. With all the strength left inside of you. You use your remaining energy to prevent the force from taking control, from entering and intruding. And in the next moment, it slips out and flounders in front of you. What would be a terrified shriek ends up as coughs as you gasp for air. “W-What in the holy fuck—” It’s a ghost. A chubby man in white sleeping silks, his dark hair brushing against his shoulders, but his form translucent and feet floating inches off the cobblestone hall. Your seething fire running through your blood flares. It seeps out and magically wreathes around you as your eyes glow as hot coals. You lift your finger to him, threatening to attack and he steps back. “Hold on there! Don’t be hasty!” the ghost spits in panic. “I sincerely apologize for my blunder!” “Who are you?! What were you trying to do to me?!” “My name is Leo and I just wanted to borrow your body for a bit! You see...I have some unfinished business.” There’s an extended silence. Then you lower your arm and the fire drawn back into you. Your stare is unwavering and Leo musters a smile on his thin lips, wrinkles around his eyes creasing. “In hindsight, I should have asked. I apologize for intruding.” You scoff, guard still up. “What’s your unfinished business?” “Ah, I would like to see the sunrise one last time.” The ghost turns to glance out the window. “Someone once tried to banish me away, so now I’m in a quite unstable form. I am only able to venture in this realm when it is day or night when time itself is stable. I disappear every time there is a sunset or sunrise.” Your brow lifts. “So you’ve been haunting this castle?” “Well, I can’t leave if I have unfinished business.” Leo smiles at you, eyes almost hopeful. “Whoever tried to banish you should’ve done it properly,” you deadpan. Getting rid of this ghost could be your birthday present to the Duchess. “I don’t know the banishment spell unfortunately. But my older brother does.” You start to march down the hall, but the ghost follows after you frantically. “Please don’t banish me! I beg of you! Please!” It’s an opportunity and you seize it. Your feet halt and you twist to him with a smirk growing. “Then what will you offer me?” “Offer you?” “As payment.” Your arms cross. “We can strike a fair deal. If you want to borrow my body, I’ll let you. But only if you can give me gold.” The ghost bursts out in hearty laughter that streams from his chest. “I don’t have anything to my name anymore, dear sorcerer. Certainly not gold. I’m dead!” Your face morphs into impassivity, lips drawn into a tight line. “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Yet, he still follows relentlessly, floating to your left and to your side, eyes plastered onto your profile. “Oh, but can’t you offer me even half a day out of the kindness of thy own heart? Surely you must feel pity for a ghost like me that’s forced to wander this castle with no end. I will leave when my business is complete, that I can assure.” “Why don’t you go bother someone else?” “But you are special.” At that, your steps slow and he smiles again. “You know magic well and it reminds me of a certain someone.” “Who?” He hums and frowns. “I can’t seem to remember.” You scoff. After years of your business, of persuasion and deception, you can tell he’s not being entirely truthful. But before you can press on and coax the ghost’s true intentions out, there’s a noisy interruption. “Y/N!” Taehyung approaches with his mouth lopsided. “Who are you talking to?” You turn to your side, but the middle-aged ghost has vanished in thin air. “It was a ghost.” “What?” He looks at you as if you’ve gone crazy and maybe you have. “There aren’t ghosts here. Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “I came to tell you that mom’s looking for you.” At your exaggerated sigh, Taehyung grins. “Trust me, it’s a lot worse than what you think.” He’s right. Your mother’s caught wind that a few youngsters are going boating and of course, she has to push her children into the private affair. You’re largely unamused, not a fan of being stuck in large bodies of water, even if it’s just a lake. “You have to go.” The moment she sharply enunciates the word, she pulls on the strings on your back laced bodice with all her might and you choke on air. “How else are you going to get married?” She doesn’t see you roll your eyes in the mirror. “My plan isn’t to get married.” “Well you never know what might happen. Keep an open mind.” Somehow, she thinks marriage will quell her troublesome daughters, especially you. But you can’t blame her for holding such an idea. At this point, she’s trying everything she can. “It’s time to be a little more ladylike after the whole tournament fiasco.” In the meanwhile, Lia is sitting in the corner, amused. She has a frilly, puffed up skirt of her own, a shade of light pink and on top of her head, a giant hat with flowers. She’s always been the prettier one. But as you turn to the mirror in your own blue summer dress your mother’s putting you in, you find that you aren’t half bad. Your mother knows you tend to get yourself dirty and that you don’t particularly enjoy being dressed up, so your attire is much less obnoxious and more subtle. It’s proof she’s thought about you. Eventually, your eyes drift off of your reflection to the flames dancing in the fireplace. You stare at the crimson light it gives, the way the subtle smoke that rises from it, curling towards the chimney. “There we are.” Your mother secures the last pins in your hair and smooths out your skirt. “Not too shabby, darling,” she says with a smile as if satisfied from her own work. You wonder what’s the point of trying. It’s not like anyone will be enamoured with you. The person who matters the most after all has already been taken. “You look absolutely beautiful this fine afternoon, Lady Y/N.” Your trance shatters and you look at the man blankly. “Jinha.” “Dare I say, you may be more lovely than you were last night!” He grins and you answer him in silence. You allow the noise of the surroundings to respond instead — the cawing of the birds, the sloshing of the water on the edge of the grass, your brothers laughing as the boats bump into the pier. The only mercy given to him is when Lia quite literally bumps into you and clears her throat loudly. “Ahem. Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met before.” The sorcerer’s smile widens. “Excuse me, but you are?” “I am Lia, Y/N’s older sister. But I’m not that much older. Only by two years. I’m turning twenty four.” You’ve never seen Lia flounder so much. It’s amusing to behold. “Oh, I knew Y/N had a sister, but I would’ve thought you were the younger sister,” Jinha says smoothly and her expression lights up even further. He takes her hand, placing a kiss upon her knuckles and you’re glad she’s taken his attention. Heaven knows you aren’t interested. But as you’re about to walk away, your line of sight falls to a familiar girl with dimples. Klarinda, the Duke’s daughter, is wearing a brimmed hat and her expensive silk skirt flutters with her. If she’s here then where’s— Yoongi’s staring right at you. As if he’s a predator and you’re merely the prey. Immediately, you return to Lia being overly flirtatious with Jinha. It’s bearable for a few minutes until you join your brothers who are horsing around and threatening to push one another into the lake. But out of the corner of your eye, you watch Yoongi and look away when your eyes meet. You know he’s watching you too. You try your best to stay focused on your surroundings. The strangers around were from different families and factions, civil with each other when they’re on the Duke’s grounds. At most, they send glares to their enemies. So you allow the polite, peaceful chatter to engulf you before everyone slowly gets onto the boats to row out and enjoy the lake. “Finally!” Taehyung suddenly twists around, holding a rope in hand. “I got it untied!” Jin facepalms himself. “You idiot! You’re supposed to untie the rope after everyone’s gotten in!” “What?” “Not to worry!” Jinha announces with a grin and nimbly hops inside the boat before it drifts too far off the pier. He holds out his hand for Lia and she gladly takes it with a giggle, being guided in. You watch at a loss for words as the boat gets farther and farther. Still, the divine sorcerer boldly holds out his hand for you. “Lady Y/N!” You hesitate. The boat is already full with four people and you’re not sure if it’s worth jumping in and potentially getting pulled into the lake. But suddenly, before you can make a decision, your waist is pulled back by strong arms. “It’s okay. She can come with me. There’s one left.” “Yoongi!” your gasp is sharp and you look up at him. But he remains unfazed. Your siblings have their brows raised. But by then, they’ve already drifted off and Taehyung wordlessly rows away. You don’t have time to react or object — not when Yoongi’s grabbed your hand and you stumble after him. The last rowboat rocks back and forth violently and you drop into a seated position on the seat before you can fall in. It takes three seconds. The rope is untied and Yoongi rows away from the pier. You notice his fiancée meters away in her own boat, sitting closely with girls chatting and giggling together. Yet, she pays no mind to her friends. Instead, she stares at the two of you. “Shouldn’t you be with her?” Yoongi follows your line of sight and mumbles, “It’s fine.” You’re stuck with him. Yoongi rows where no one else does and you watch the water cascade back. The soft sloshing fills the background as it gets quiet and much too uncomfortable. Yoongi’s husky timbre breaks the tension. “How have you been?” “Well, I’ve just been trapped in my house ever since I’ve returned, but things are great.” Your voice drips of venomous sarcasm, but when you lift your eyes, his gaze locks into yours. The blonde man wears a somber expression, his irises darkening and you sigh, speaking at a quieter volume. “I actually worked out a deal with my parents. As long as I behave and don’t tarnish my family name, I can do as I please. There’s more freedom than before. But it’s a work in progress full of compromise. If I want to leave, I’ll have to write a plan so they know where I’m headed. I just haven’t decided what I want to do next.” Your muttering gets quiet and your face hardens. “Obviously, you’re doing well.” Yoongi stops rowing. He allows the boat to drift. “The engagement was set up by my mother.” “Oh please, Yoongi.” Your eyes roll and you cross your arms, ready for his excuses that you knew were coming. “It was arranged. For all I know, I haven’t proposed to anyone yet.” “That doesn’t change that fact that you’re an engaged man!” Your teeth grit. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to go off with her and have a bunch of kids and a big family together, so congratu-fucking-lations.” It’s unbearable. There’s nowhere you can run. He’s truly trapped you here to confront one another. “And when were you planning to tell me? All those letters and you didn’t mention it once!” Your eyes sting painfully as your vision floods, overwhelmed with emotion. You feel blindsighted. “I thought I wouldn’t have to tell you at all. I was going to take care of it. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” “You really think it’s easy to call off an engagement with the Duke’s daughter?!” you spit and he takes your onslaught of anger. The pain is visible on your visage. “If I didn’t come, were you going to tell me when you got to the altar? Or after you got back from the honeymoon? I...I feel like an idiot.” “I’m sorry.” Staggering exhales pull from your lungs after your tangent and silence fills the large distance between the pair of you. Yet, Yoongi’s gaze is too tender for you to bear. “My biggest regret is not kissing you that night,” he murmurs. “Or rather, not asking you to come with me.” “It’s too late.” “It isn’t.” “What are you going to do, Yoongi?” “I’m going to call it off.” “How?” “I’ll try.” His voice is low, eyes half-lidded. “Then what?” you spit in exasperation. “What reason would you have to call it off? It’s a great arrangement! A beneficial marri—” “I want to marry you.” The inside of your chest stutters. Your breath catches in your throat. Warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace. Yoongi isn’t a straightforward man, blunt but never honest with his feelings. That trait has bred so many uncertainties within you. But in this moment, you feel his sincerity. You can see it, how hard he’s tried to reach you, to tell you his intentions. It reminds you of that night in Rutherglen. The festival and fireworks, when you were so close to one another, when you would’ve gone anywhere with him. “You’re an idiot, Min Yoongi.” You stand. “I don’t feel like talking to idiots.” You pull your orb from your pocket and cast shape water. The waves rise and it splashes him. Yoongi’s yellow hair is soaked along with the entire side of his head. His visage washes over into impassivity, akin to a glare. But you don’t dwell, palms laying flat in the air as you manipulate the water and push the boat back to shore. The minute you get to the pier, you pull yourself up. “I learnt more spells other than fire magic since our fight with the Remorhaz,” you add, “if you even remember that.” You know it’s unfair, but you rush away before he can discern how in a few words, he’s given you hope. The very hope that you know can easily break your heart again. // It’s been less than two full days, but it feels like an eternity. You’re slouched over an open arched window, elbow propped on the stone with your chin rested in your hand. The valleys of Pegan are out in the distance behind the fogged clouds, countless adventures and creatures out there for you to discover and explore. But you find yourself rooted in your place, a sense of uneasiness and yearning preventing you from leaving. At sounds of quacking, your eyes drift from the scenery to the first floor. By the staircase is a white duck with an orange beak trotting along with a row of pale yellow, baby ducklings behind her. They follow their mother religiously, teetering from side to side, trying not to get too curious of the world around them and a smile graces your lips. “Are ducklings your favourite animal, sorcerer?” Your spine straightens in shock and the wandering ghost, Leo, grins at you. Your hand presses to your chest as you steady your breath. “Are you trying to scare me to death?!” “Of course not! That would be defeating the purpose. I can’t borrow your body if you’re dead like I am,” he chortles, arms behind his back as he floats from your right side to your left. “I wanted to merely apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to be so invasive or startle you.” You glare at him, not yet accepting his apology. He continues nonetheless— “Also, I want you to help me.” You snort unattractively, having known he had other purposes in approaching you again. “Unless you agree to my deal, the answer is no.” “Please,” Leo pleads. “I can’t move on.” You push yourself off the wall and walk away. He follows after you, even after you quicken your steps. “Why can’t you possess someone else’s body and watch your stupid sunrise?” “That is not my greatest desire.” The ghost comes in front of you and you halt in fear of him entering your body. “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful to you, dear sorcerer.” Your brow lifts, waiting patiently and Leo swallows hard. “I await another lost soul and I wish to depart this world together with them. I can’t move on without them.” Your frustration makes your voice shrill. “It’s not only you who has problems, alright? I can’t even fix mine! What makes me think I can fix yours?!” As your annoyance boils over, you start running. It’s useless to try to elude a ghost who can’t get tired, but you try anyway. “Sorcerer!” And without looking, you turn the corner and collide with another body. “Woah!” Jin steadies you before the two of you can topple over. “Why are you not looking at where you’re going?” Lia is with him and regards you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?” You glance over your shoulder. The ghost never comes. “It’s nothing,” you mutter in a sigh. “Mom’s looking for you again.” “What is it this time?” The words come out in a tired exhale. Your older brother shrugs. “Might have to do with tonight’s dinner.” “Hey, Y/N.” Suddenly, Lia takes your hands. “Tell me honestly, do you like Jinha?” “No.” You warily eye her, not sure where she’s going with this. The corner of Jin’s mouth curls. “Why? You like him?” “Well, if she doesn’t like him, she should give him to me,” Lia mumbles, then quickly turns to you. “Of course, if you do, then by all means, our sisterhood is my top priority….” You pull your hand away from her. “I don’t like him, Lia. But he’s not mine to give away either. You can do whatever you want.” Your sister’s eyes twinkle with a kind of enthusiasm that makes you scoff with a smile. Jin’s mouth is quirked as well, but his curiosity has been piqued and he doesn’t hesitate to ask— “It’s because of him, isn’t it? He’s the reason you’re not interested. The youngest son of the Min faction. What was his name?” “Yoongi.” If possible, Lia’s features light up further and she steps forward, cornering you. “What happened on that boat ride, Y/N? It seemed like you were having a really intense talk.” “It was nothing,” you murmur. “He practically pulled you into the boat with him. I mean, did his fiancée mind?” In the midst of the interrogation, Jin shifts to you, eyes unwavering. “You started sending him letters the minute you got back, but now he’s engaged and he happens to pull you aside like that— What really happened on your adventure together?” Millpass, Bogsburrough, Rutherglen. The memories seep back into you. The fireworks and festival, the night at the roadside tavern, fighting together at the underground market. The way he rushed in front of you in the face of the white dragon, how the two of you sat on the hill and watched the sunset together. It’s overwhelming. “Who is he to you?” “I said nothing!” you lie and push past them, stomping in the other direction to get away from your overbearing siblings. “Hey!” Lia shouts after you. “Mom’s still calling you!” You ignore them, turning the corner then down the staircase lest the wandering ghost plagues you again or you run into Taehyung, your mother or father. For good measure, you depart outside without any direction but merely feeling the soft grass underneath your boots. You’re about to turn yourself invisible for a moment of peace or disguise yourself as a maid to escape, but with your unfortunate luck that’s been bestowed to you since you arrived, you run into dimples before you get the chance. A petite figure with spiral curls and an evening dress of modesty. Her brown eyes sparkle as your eyes lock with one another’s. With half a mind and all the etiquette training that had been slammed into you at childhood, you curtsy. “Hello.” “Good evening.” Klarinda smiles at you without a trace of malice. “What a coincidence meeting you here. I was about to head to my greenhouse.” “Yes.” You stiffly nod. “If you’ll excuse me…” But before you can march off, she twirls around. “Would you like to join me?” It’s an open space. The gardens seem to stretch on for miles, plant walls that border the perimeter. In the center of it all is a structure made of glass. The ceilings are high to let in sunlight and there are rows and benches of potted plants and flowers. “Some of these I grow simply because they’re beautiful. But a lot of these herbs have medicinal purposes.” “You’re a cleric, aren’t you, my lady?” “I am, like my mother. And you don’t have to address me by such formal titles. A friend of Yoongi’s is a friend of mine.” The girl smiles. “Klarinda is fine.” You nod and she quietly hums a song as she waters flowers. You follow after her until a particular plant catches your eye — verdant leafs, yellow petals and plump berries. “It’s a sunberry plant,” Klarinda says when she notices your curiosity. “Would you like to try one?” The Duke’s daughter happily plucks one off and holds it out in front of you. The second your teeth bites down, the sweetness explodes into your cheek. She giggles at your reaction. “Good, right? My dad likes to come in here and eat them when they’re in season, so they’re always gone.” “Good enough to sell. You should cast a protection or barrier spell on them.” “I should.” She grins, dimples dotted on both sides of her face. “But between you and me, I actually don't mind so much. It makes me happy that he enjoys something from my garden, even if he has to sneak in.” Most of your first impressions aren’t wrong. Within minutes of conversation, you can figure out if a customer is going to chase you down and try to fight you or might come back at a latter time to buy more. And you can tell her innocence isn’t a feigned facade. The Marquise is endearing enough that you like her for it. For a moment, you almost feel envious of Yoongi. But they’re undoubtedly a good match. A stoic, strong knight capable of shielding away a virtuous maiden who knows nothing of the world, but is kind and generous to a fault. It’s a portrait perfect couple. “This place is really beautiful.” You force yourself away from the thoughts that form a lump in your throat. “Thank you. It can get lonely though.” You hum, supposing a vast yet empty estate would do that to someone. “Don’t people from Pegan visit often?” “They do. They mostly arrive for business. I used to play with all kinds of children from the different factions, especially during holidays. But they can be……” “A bit much?” Klarinda laughs. “Yes! Some might say crazy or competitive, but much is a good word too.” You grin. “I’ve barely gotten to know how the factions work, but I can already tell. Some of them are so conceited.” Her eyes sparkle. “Like Jinha?” “Yes!” She giggles, her dimples creased deeper and her teeth shown in the light. Like this, she’s less of a proper and demure lady, niece to the king, and more like a girl you would’ve known on your travels. ���He can be quite a gentleman, but he has an arrogant nature.” “My sister likes him, but I’m not sure why. Personally, I think she could do better. Then again, they wouldn't be bad together.” With the divine sorcerer’s willing-to-please nature and Lia’s incessant demands and high maintenance personality, it might work out better than intended. “I’m envious that you have so many siblings,” Klarinda says with a tender smile and you’re caught in surprise. You didn’t know it was possible she could be envious of you when you were envious of her in so many ways. “I’m an only child, so I’ve often wondered what it would’ve been like to have an older brother or younger sister. There’s nothing that beats family after all.” “You’re not missing out on much, trust me. Siblings can be quite annoying.” She laughs again. “Still, I think it would’ve been nice to belong to a bigger family.” A comfortable silence simmers as you follow after her and she moves to prune a plant. You break the quiet. “Actually, I was away from my family for quite a while. For a number of years.” “I thought you went adventuring for one year?” You shake your head. “They told everyone I went to go study arcane magic, but it isn’t true. I ran away and was gone for three.” Klarinda looks at you with a gentle expression, recognizing your solemnity. “What matters is that you’re here with them now.” You nod. “I don’t regret coming home. I’m glad I didn’t have to return when there was a funeral of my parents.” “Even if they’re overbearing?” she asks with a tiny smile. “Even if they’re overbearing,” you confirm. “You met Yoongi during your travels, right?” Immediately, you freeze, but she focuses on her plant, only stealing a simple glance at you. “He told me a lot about you from day one.” “Is that so?” “The engagement was a surprise to the both of us,” she murmurs, placing her shears down. “It happened less than a month ago. Suddenly my mother sat me down and told me about the arrangement. It was strange considering she had never spoken to me about it before and she’s never been one to make such an agreement. Anyway, a few minutes after I met Yoongi, he spoke about you. Rather fondly.” “Really?” You plaster on a polite smile. “Well, I’m flattered. He’s a great friend.” “Is he sincerely a friend to you?” Klarinda asks. Her gaze is piercing and you raise your guard. She’s going to threaten you — you know it. But you weren’t the one who made the decision and you don’t want any part of it. It doesn’t involve you. It never will. Having learnt from the best, your face becomes blank. “I am very happy that he’s finally engaged. He’s always been very popular, so settling down just seems right for him.” At once, the cleric grips her necklace. Against your will, she casts an enchantment spell and a fifteen foot radius sphere sweeps out from her. It keeps you inside. A zone of truth that prevents lies. “I’m sorry. But I need to know.” She looks at you solemnly. “Do you like Yoongi?” You cuss in Elvish underneath your breath. You can’t be deceptive, but you can still be evasive in your responses as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth. “It’s not like I dislike him.” “Please be honest with me.” She searches your expression earnestly, pleading with you. Being with Yoongi has made you soft. You’re used to protecting your vulnerabilities until the end, but the truth spills from you as if it’s been dying to be said— “I’m in love with him.” The spell dissipates. Klarinda smiles. “Then I’ll call off the engagement.” “What?” “They can’t force me to do anything and I’d rather keep two great friends than having an unwilling husband for the rest of my life.” Her dimples crease. “I wouldn’t want that for him, myself or you.” “Wait! J-Just because I feel a certain way doesn’t mean he does or even that the engagement should be called off! This...this is something you should talk about with him, not me.” Her smile becomes sweeter. “Isn’t it obvious?” You blink at her. “Yoongi loves you too. What’s more that needs to be said?” The girl is so certain as if the answer has never been clearer. She’s a hopeless romantic. Utterly so. Someone who believes that love prevails above all and suddenly, you want to give into that urge as well. But before either of you can move, there’s a rumble beneath your feet. The ground itself tilts. Klarinda catches herself on the bench and you find your own balance. The pair of you tear your eyes away from one another to the roaring noise. The castle is shaking in its foundation. She notices the smoke that’s rising in the air. “Is...that fire?” Your eyes widen and you rush over, instincts screaming. The girl trails behind you and you pull yourself inside. There’s fire eating at the walls and you take your orb out, focusing your magic to snuff out the flames. To the best of your abilities, you extinguish it. Klarinda stays with you, using her own magic to try to aid you. “Sorcerer!” In the midst of the pandemonium, a familiar voice and form comes from the walls. Leo, the ghost, floats to your side. “I need your help. You must come with me. Please!” Klarinda’s eyes widen. But you don’t notice. “Don’t you see what’s going on?! I can’t help you!” The ghost vanishes. There is smoke filling the halls, flooding the corridors and you cover your mouth with the sleeve of your dress, coughing into it. Members from different factions are rushing past with their own weapons and shields, swords gripped or magic at their fingertips. There’s shouting above the chaos, but you don’t know what’s going on. Not until you enter the main room and find your mother and Taehyung. “Mom!” There’s a dracolich in the center of the circular room, towering high enough to graze the dome ceiling. It’s a monster — once a dragon until it became undead. Now what’s left of it is bones instead of flesh and blood, open eye sockets and decayed wings. But instead of being buried underneath the ground or burnt to ash, it’s come back to life, roaring and whipping its tail to a group of terrified, screaming wizards. There are several death knights as well. Decayed bodies with rotting flesh and pinpoints of light in place of eyes. They’re undead warriors who have revived, having once been rangers and barbarians until they fell. And one of them lunges at Taehyung until your mother casts finger of death, causing it searing pain and making it drop to its knees. Three rays of fire shoot past her, firing onto the death knight. She turns her head. “Y/N!” “Where’s Jin and Lia?” “They went to go find your father. He’s with the Duke!” Another death knight comes running forward with an axe and Taehyung screams before splashing a bubble of acid on it. A beat later, your mother’s grasp on her wand tightens and she sends a frigid beam of blue-white light streak on the monster. A coldness sweeps through the room and you follow up with casting firebolt. The monster has slowed down, barely staggering and obviously wounded. Yet, it tries to swing and misses Taehyung by a long shot. “Not bad,” you comment. “Hey, I’ve improved a lot since the last time you saw me fight!” A rectangular grin is plastered on Taehyung’s face. But the conversation is cut short by the dragonlich’s tail. He jumps away before he’s attacked and joins the other side where a paladin is fighting another monster. “Go!” Your mother shouts. “It’s too dangerous!” “I’m not leaving!” You don’t know where these undead creatures came from, how they even came alive again, or who revived them. There’s no time to think and in the midst of the anarchy, you’re trapped. Sheer seconds as you realize you’re about to be struck, but you’re unable to do anything. You merely brace for the impact. But the monster drops dead in front of you. Yoongi pulls his rapier out in one smooth tug, the silver blade slicing through the air. You gasp for air and he immediately engulfs you in an embrace. The man with the light blonde strands of hair holds you tight as your breath steadies and you savour his warmth. There are no words spoken, nothing that needs to be said that can’t be translated through his desperate yet affectionate gesture. “Sorcerer.” The moment can’t last long when you’re interrupted by the ghost. It floats to you and Yoongi is on guard, lifting the tip of his weapon. But you place a hand on his arm and he eases. “Listen to me.” You’re calm enough to finally pay attention, to hopefully be given answers. And answers are what he offers you. “There is a lich where the old castle resides. You must find the phylactery and destroy it before things become worse.” “A lich?!” Liches are among the worst creatures of humanity — undead spellcasters of great power. They’re creatures who traded in their souls for a chance to exist forever. There are untold treachery and blasphemies they’ve done just to become what they are. But they’re given immortality unless someone destroys their phylactery, an object that stores their life essences. Before you can ask any more questions, the ghost dissipates in thin air. Klarinda, who noticed the transparent form, runs to you. She grabs your hands and searches your expression. “What did the ghost say?!” “T-There’s a lich in the old castle!” “I know where that is!” The Dragonlich roars deafeningly as a warlock casts hold monster and it becomes paralyzed. At the same time, Yoongi pierces a death knight that was barreling towards you. You turn to your mother who gives a glance and she doesn’t even take a moment of hesitation. “Go!” She trusts your decisions — her gaze tells you that. Klarinda nods and Yoongi takes your hand. The two of you follow after her as she twists through the halls. “How did you come in contact with that ghost, Y/N?” “I don’t know. He was the one who approached me after the tournament and he’s been bothering me since yesterday.” Klarinda turns down the hall. “Do you know who that ghost is?” “He told me his name is Leo.” “He’s King Lionel,” she says and your brows raise. Yoongi doesn’t appear surprised either. He wears a solemn expression, having recognized him as well. “There was a section of his life in my history textbook of Pegan. This place used to be his castle.” You’re baffled, completely rendered speechless. She continues, “There was a rebellion a thousand years ago. This whole place burnt down, but it was rebuilt during my grandfather’s generation.” “Were there ever mentions of a lich? Or someone who traded their soul?” Yoongi shakes his head. “No.” “He never had a wife. But there were rumours that he had a mistress. A wizard from far away lands.” Your eyes meet Klarinda’s. “His kingdom was taken down before they could get married.” “But why now?” You’re running out of breath as she climbs a staircase. “If this...mistress traded in her soul a thousand years ago, why is she trying to revive dragons and knights now?” “It isn’t just now,” Klarinda murmurs, her brows drawn into a tight furrow and jaw clenched. “Members of the royal family in Pegan have gone missing for generations. They’ve always swept it under the carpet and kept it a secret, but I think I’m about to find out the reason.” The three of you turn another corner, but come to a grinding halt when you see a flailing lady. “Mother!” Duchess Jacquelyn is in the middle of the corridor, wearing a bountiful and extravagant gown while her arms are full of jewelry boxes, dangling strings of pearls and diamonds. One string slips from the pile and rolls on the cobblestone to your friend’s feet. “D-Darling! What a surprise! What’s going on? The noise has been startling me!” Klarinda steps forward. “What are you doing?” “T-This?! Nothing! I was just re-organizing! Yes. Reorganizing.” “That’s grandmother’s ring.” She points, eyes narrowed in. “You’ve never brought it out since her funeral.” “Well...sometimes change is needed, sweetheart.” They stare at one another while you exchange looks with Yoongi. There is a pregnant silence, tangible tension that’s suffocating. Then you notice how Duchess Jacquelyn slips her hand to her side and something glistens in your eyes, blinding your vision. Your mouth draws open. “You’re not my mother!” — “Watch out!” The dagger strikes her. Klarinda cries as the back of her right hand is sliced. Yet she grabs the opportunity and grips her necklace, her spellcasting object. The girl’s left hand comes out and she holds her mother’s double by the wrist, casting inflict wound. The creature screams horrifically in sheer agony. “What did you do to her?! Where is she?!” You grip your orb, casting scorching ray. One beam of fire hits it and it screeches. A moment later, Yoongi lifts his rapier and strikes it twice, causing the monster to stumble onto its back. Its weapon clacks out of reach. Klarinda grabs the dagger and holds the creature to the floor. She presses the blade to its throat. All traces of her kindness and mercy have dissipated in the face of her rage. “Where is she?!” “O-Okay! Okay! I surrender!” It puts up its hands and shifts. The form of the creature is no longer the beautiful, middle-aged Duchess but a tall, elven gray-skinned humanoid. Its face is formless and eyes are pale and bulging. Its voice croaks, “I’m a doppelganger! I didn’t have a choice! The lich made me do it!” “My mother!” Klarinda shrieks and you lower yourself, squeezing her shoulder and she eases. Tears have filled her eyes, but when she glances at you, she’s able to compose herself. “She’s dead. Her soul’s been consumed.” Klarinda breaks down into sobs. You wrap an arm around her and she lets up on the doppelganger, but Yoongi makes sure to keep his foot down on its shoulder. “We have to get it.” She wipes at her tears, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “We have to kill that lich, Y/N!” “We will,” you promise her. “We will.” Seconds later, you see Jinha come forward and he rushes over trying to get a grasp of the situation. “Can you take care of this?” you ask and he easily agrees. “O-Of course, lady Y/N.” He binds up the doppelganger and Klarinda casts cure wounds on herself, healing her gash. She takes your hand afterwards and you hold it. Yet, even as her frame shakes, there’s determination in her steps. A type of anger that has solidified her resolve and given her courage. “This is the passageway.” She pushes open a small stone door to reveal a crawl space after Yoongi helped push a bookshelf to the side in the corner of the library. “I found it as a kid, but I never went in too far. The servants found me and they tried to cover it up.” The three of you crawl through before it opens up and Yoongi helps you down onto the landing. There is consuming darkness until Klarinda casts light onto the dagger she has and you ignite a flame to dance into your hand. The empty void is collected with cobwebs, spiders and eyes of bats staring back at you, quietly observing your forms. Each of your steps echo and a cloud of dust emerges. You move slowly, scared that the steps of the staircase winding downwards will collapse under your weight. But you’re able to look around, at the crumbling paintings, the fragmented pillar pieces, the stone walls with scorched markings, and the ancient statues long lost and eaten by time itself. Never would you have guessed that the basement of the castle held all of this. That they had rebuilt themselves on top of what was once the castle of the entire kingdom of Pegan. You can imagine what this would’ve been like a thousand years ago. Children running with servants scolding them, advisors walking by King Lionel’s side, his lover waiting for him. Then you envision the screams, the devouring fire. You can see the charred marks along the banister. You can almost hear it, but you quickly shake it off before you can become frightened. “Destroying the phylactery is the only way we can get rid of the lich without it coming back, but how will we know where it is or what it is?” It could be any object in any room. You turn with the flickering fire in your palm, looking all around you. It’s endless. “If that monster is down here, there has to be a reason,” Yoongi offers, standing by your side. “It could’ve moved anywhere but it might be protecting its phylactery.” “I know where it is.” There’s a low voice and a familiar ghost descends in front of you with a saddened smile. “Your highness.” Klarinda bows her head. But you remain still, even after knowing his identity. King Lionel looks at you with his brows knitted together. “I am sorry for deceiving you, dear sorcerer. Or rather, holding the truth from you. I feared you would have denied my request had I been forthright about it. In hindsight, I could’ve prevented the devastation that has wrecked this place. Had I only known….” “Do you know where the lich is? Or where the phylactery is?” “It is in the last place where I perished.” The King smiles. “In our chambers.” He turns, floating away and Klarinda follows. You and Yoongi trail behind her and when you feel the back of his hand grazing against yours, you grasp it. Yoongi looks at you and you release your held sigh. “Why is it that we always find ourselves in adventures like these?” “You mean these life or death scenarios?” The corner of his mouth curls and he squeezes your hand. “We always manage. But you should’ve told me that you were talking to a ghost.” “I don’t think we were on speaking terms until recently, duckling.” Yoongi grins at the nostalgic nickname, the one you used to start each letter, and your own smile is tinged with sadness. You don’t know if either of you will live. If the pair of you have it in you to be an actual hero and defeat the greatest monster. And as these doubts fill you, so do the regrets that you harbour for not hearing him out, for not trusting in him. With such little time, you wonder if this is it. If this will be your last opportunity. Your steps slow. “Yoongi. I—” “How dare you enter my lair?!” There’s a snarling voice resounding above and instantly, the ghost of King Lionel vanishes. Klarinda turns behind her and looks at you and Yoongi. The hall has ended with a crumbling stone door in front of her. “Leave!” The voice shrieks deafeningly into multiple layers. “Leave!” You nod at her and she pushes the door open. The dust billows out, sweeping in front of your forms. The fire in your hand smothers and the strong gust of wind pulls through your hair. You can’t open your eyes, so you shield yourself away. Yoongi feels his grasp on you loosen. Your touch fades away from him. He shouts after you until his throat is raw, but it’s to no avail. He scrambles blindly until he’s able to open his eyes and finds himself in an empty void of darkness. “I know your greatest fear.” There’s a whisper in his ear and he jolts, turning around while drawing his rapier. But there’s nothing there, not even a shapeless figure. “Min Yoongi. I have read your thoughts.” “I have read your mind,” a second voice crackles to his left. The right snicker. “Your greatest fear is betrayal of your loved one.” “Whether that would be no longer sharing your affections.” “Or choosing another person to be with.” “Get out of my head,” he commands from deep within his stomach, his impassivity ruined by the furrow of his brows. But Yoongi feels a cold breath on the nape of his neck. “A lick of poison from her would destroy you for good.” Fire. You see it in front of you as you’re collapsed on the floor. The orange and rose glow are illuminated on your face. You’re sitting so close it seems to lick at your cheeks. Yet you’re brought into a lull as you listen to the crackle and pop, as you allow the smoke to fill your senses. You’re brought in a trance as you watch the fire burn a house down, a quaint home with a picket white fence and large windows with pink curtains. “Your greatest strength is your greatest fear.” There’s a murmur in your ear. It’s unrecognizable. “I know,” you mumble. “You are afraid of one day no longer being able to control the flames that seethes to be unleashed.” “But repress it no longer, dear,” the left voice seductively whispers, hissing softly. “Worry no longer.” “Your magic is incredible and oozes from you.” — “Give into it.” — “Allow it freedom.” “What….about...Yoongi?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from the fire into the darkness. You stand back on your feet, finding balance again. “No.” There’s a sharp inhale to your right. “Leave him.” You scoff automatically, the idea so utterly ridiculous that it’s unfathomable. “I’m not going to do that. I finally found someone that doesn’t find me annoying….” “You could be powerful.” The more it talks, the more you’re coming to your senses. “I already am powerful!” You twist around, dispelling away the hallucination of the burning house with the flicker of your hand. “And I already know how to control my powers! You think I’m some kind of amateur sorcerer?! It doesn’t control me. I control it!” Again, you ignite a fire in your hand and narrow your eyes. In the distance, you catch strands of pale yellow. And you run after him. The voices scream for you to stop, but you fight against the magic that threatens to pull you back. The moment you smother out the flame, you leap at Yoongi. Your arms are thrown around him in an embrace and immediately, his hands wrap around you. Yoongi stumbles back with an infectious smile expanding into his cheeks. The spell dissipates and you find yourself back in the underground remains of the ancient castle. “Don’t let go of my hand again, brat.” “I’m sorry,” you mumble against his neck. Suddenly, there’s a piercing scream that ricochets through the air — one belonging to only Klarinda. You pull away from Yoongi, eyes locked into one another and he sets you down. Your fingers interlace and you follow the sound, turning down the hall once more and entering through the large double-doors to the decaying chambers. A frame of a bed sits in the wide expanse of the room, grayed cloth ripped and drifting over the canopy. Ash and soot sits in a layer on the floorboards, the wardrobe and vanity along the back wall destroyed. There’s a large painting on the wall, but the faces of the couple have been torn and scratched by bleeding fingernails. Your eyes sweep the room within seconds before landing on Klarinda who’s been blighted. She’s fallen over and you come to cover her with your body as you look upon the lich. It’s angular and skeletal with withering flesh stretched tightly across visible bones, dressed in regal finery, reddened drapes that once was vibrant. Yoongi’s knuckles turn white at his grip and he runs towards the creature. He misses, but hits on his second try, slashing it across. He surges forward, yet it does little to the lich that still stands. “Foolish children,” she hisses and grips the blade of Yoongi’s rapier, rendering him immobile. “You aren’t heroes. Your recklessness will bring forth your death. I will not spare you from the choices you have made.” You cast immolation and flames wreathe the lich. She lets go of Yoongi’s weapon and the light of your magic is so bright that you’re forced to look away. At the same time, Klarinda cures her wounds and slowly comes to her feet again. “Do you really think you could defeat me?!” The lich’s snarling voice booms across the room. Pinpoints of crimson light burn in the empty sockets of where her eyes were before they rotted away. She glides forward as if floating on water and a sphere of poisonous gas billows to all corners of the room. “Yoongi!” You cover your mouth with your hand and the yellow-green fog obscures your view. You hear the clanking of metal where he hits the lich and you feel your vision blurring from the poison. But as you narrow your eyes, you’re able to make out the faint shadow of the lich’s form. And a thin green ray springs from your pointing finger in the spell disintegrate, allowing you to hear it’s deafening shriek. You give permission for your phoenix magic to unleash and you’re magically twined in swirling fire, eyes glowing as hot coals. Your flesh sheds bright light into the fog. Behind you, Klarinda murmurs words of restoration and you feel yourself being healed from the poison. The lich is toying with you. You know it. The moment you stepped into here, it could’ve immediately killed any of you with a single word, but instead, it chose to manifest those hallucinations and slowly suffocate the three of you in this poison. The lich glides towards you, but is stopped by Yoongi. Before you can pull him out of the way, she lifts her finger, and he drops to his knees. He screams from the sheer agony that courses up his body. “Yoongi!” The lich casts detect thoughts on him, probing his brain, tearing apart bits and pieces of it. It hums and muses, “How selfless yet foolish. Even in this much pain, you are still thinking about how much you love her.” Yoongi grits his teeth, bumbling upwards to his feet and strikes the monster thrice. The force is enough that she staggers back and tense silence fills the air. You steal the opportunity and come forward next to Yoongi. Your palms press towards the monster to cast fireball, but the roar of the flames never comes. The lich has counterspelled it. Klarinda cries and runs forward with her dagger. “You killed my mother!” “And her soul was delicious to consume,” she snarls and grabs her blade, tossing it aside as if it were a toy. “Yours will be too!” Klarinda sobs as something catches the corner eye. But there’s no chance — not when the lich takes your spell of choice and magic blooms out of her thin fingertips. Fire blossoms from her flesh, thundering out in the force of her rage. You immediately turn to hug Yoongi, arms embracing his body to protect him. But when his hands reach to the back of your neck and he presses your face to his shoulder, you’re not sure who’s protecting who. Yet, the fire never reaches you. Even when it rumbles through the room and the ruins of the ancient castle. Even when the walls begin to crack further and fragments of the ceiling dust down. Even when scorching flames has filled every corner of the space. You raise your head, finding that the ghost of King Lionel is facing the lich. One of his last fragments of magic has been channeled into an aura of life spell, shielding the three of you away. “Enough, Karlis,” he calls out to her softly. “You have done enough harm.” “I thought I banished you!” she snarls out, crouched over as the pinpoints of red lights of her eyes glare at him. “I won’t leave without you.” “Why?!” The voice is jarring to your ears. “The girl you knew is long gone!” Neither of them notice Klarinda who staggers upwards towards the vanity in the corner, struggling to grab her dagger along the way. “Even so, I won’t leave her behind again. I won’t leave you behind. So come with me, Karlis. Leave your anger behind and come with me.” His arm outstretched but the monster cackles horrifically. “Foolish, man! I will not stop until I have destroyed the bloodline that ruined us.” “No one ruined us. It was I who ruled poorly, and you who chose to give up your soul and walk down this path by your lonesome in the wake of your grief. Karlis.” “Never!” she screeches and a gust of wind pushes him away. Then the lich screeches in torment. Klarinda digs the dagger’s blade into the heart shaped necklace on the vanity — the phylactery that holds the life force of the lich. She plunges the weapon several times until her arm strains, until the dagger’s curved against the vanity’s surface, until it slips from her trembling hand and she tosses it aside in the midst of tears. The lich’s bones collide against the floor. Her screams are audible around the room and the red clothing flutters in the air as it drops. You look away with Yoongi, but King Lionel gazes at her until the last moment. Gone. After centuries of terrorizing Pegan’s royal family, just like that. // The sunbeams pierce the sky in pastel shades, painting the clouds in watercolour hues. It breaks away the darkness of the night and the stars of the horizon. Klarinda is silent as she looks onward from the open arched window with her arms behind her back. But you know it’s not her. She’s been possessed by King Lionel, having granted his wish and allowed him to borrow her body. “My last duties as a King have been complete,” he murmurs in her voice. “My business is finished now that I know she hasn’t been left behind.” He turns to you and Yoongi with a dimpled smile. “Thank you. Sorcerer. Knight. Without your help, I wouldn’t have been able to free her from her own treachery.” “It’s not like you gave us much of a choice,” you mumble half-heartedly and he chuckles. “I guess I didn’t. I’m also sorry I’m not able to give you gold or any semblance of a reward when you have bestowed to me such a great favour.” “Having our lives is enough,” Yoongi says, bowing his head and you scoff lightly. The ghosts’ eyes twinkle as he looks at him and then to you. “You really do remind me of her,” he says. “But more strong-willed and self-assured. Something she had greatly missed and led her to her demise.” A sigh releases from him. “The world is blessed to have such great heroes.” The pair of you exchange expressions. “I’m not so sure about that….” You still don’t feel like heroes — he was the one who protected you and Klarinda was the one who destroyed the phylactery. Both you and Yoongi barely did anything other than waltz in there without a plan. In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea but there wasn’t really enough time to figure out battle tactics. Or at least that’s the excuse you’re going to hang onto. The ghost gives an all-knowing smile and turns to the horizon. “My time is here. Thank you for your help, heroes.” Within three seconds, he dissipated from her. Klarinda stumbles and is steadied by Yoongi. She smiles, thanking him before gazing at the pair of you. Two dimples are marked in each corner of her cheeks.

The chaos has come and gone. The moment the lich’s life source was destroyed, the monsters no longer swarmed and spawned on the grounds. The place is no longer haunted either. It’s finally what it looks like — simply, a castle. You came here to find the truth and to confront Yoongi — you never expected to encounter a ghost and a lich. It’s a wonder how it’s possible trouble can find you in so many ways no matter where you go. “Aren’t you cold?” A husky voice pipes up behind you and you’re brought out of your trance. Pale yellow hair joins your side, reminding you of ducklings. It’s still dawn, but you’re at the bottom steps of the garden's gazebo instead of seeking refuge on a soft bed. It was the only way you could get some peace and quiet from your siblings. “I’m never cold.” You turn to him, a fire flickering in your palm. Yoongi tenderly smiles. “How did speaking to Duke Fesan go?” “He’s bedridden, but he’ll make it. He wasn't too badly injured. But he’s grieving with his daughter.” You nod. “And your mother and father?” “They’re fine. A little shocked, but they’re using the opportunity to boast about me. A lot.” A laugh bubbles out of you. “Well, it’s not like they have no reason to. You’re amazing, Yoongi,” you breathe it out with a second thought, as if it were factual and you don’t notice his gaze on you. “How about your own family?” “They’re fine. My sister’s well enough to flirt with Jinha and my brothers are bickering loud enough to give my mom a headache,” you say and he hums. “But we’re leaving in a few hours. They already called the carriage for the afternoon.” “You’re heading back home?” You nod wordlessly. The tension is suffocating. You decide to break it, turning to him while masking a smile. “How was breaking the...other news to the Duke?” “Easier than one would expect. Klarinda asked to call off the wedding and the Duke said it was the doppelganger’s arrangement anyway. It was trying to amass as much wealth for itself as it could.” “That’s good.” “It is.” “Get that sorted and out of the way.” You steal a glance at Yoongi pathetically to find he has an impassive expression and is blankly looking onward. After a moment, he yawns tiredly and then his eyes flicker to you. Instantly, you divert your vision elsewhere, not noticing his smile. “You know,” he says, “the Duke thought it would be unfair to me. Even though it’s going to be called off, everyone already knows about the arrangement. It might be an opportunity for gossip to be made towards the Min faction.” “And what did you say?” “I said that I already had someone else in mind from the start.” Your eyes meet. Pools of deep brown locked into yours. Strands of his blonde hair nearly pricking into his lashes. And it’s an intimate moment as your voice quiets. “Did you really mean what you said on that boat ride. About regretting not asking me to come with you?” The man exhales, “Every day.” “A wedding with me would be awful,” you murmur, barely coherent. You feel how warmth rises to your face and heats your cheeks like a furnace, and for once, it’s not because of the magical fire inside your blood. “My mom would have to have a whole show and if you thought having three siblings was a lot, wait until you meet my cousins and extended family. They multiplied like damn rabbits.” Yoongi tries to put on a stoic face but fails. His grin is all too gummy. “I don’t mind. You haven’t met my brother yet, but he’s just as overbearing. And if anything, my mother would be ecstatic. She loves noble titles, so she’d hit it off with your mother.” “I still want that great big house.” “I would like one too.” “If you haven’t noticed, I really like my food burnt to a crisp like a fiend.” “I don’t mind.” He shrugs. “I always liked my meat especially cooked anyways.” “I’m a con artis—” “No matter what you say, I won’t change my mind, Y/N.” Yoongi’s brow cocks, challenging you straight on, albeit more gingerly than you’ve ever witnessed. “Your persuasions won’t work.” “Yoongi…” “You still owe me that refund.” What? He grins mischievously and you roll your eyes, having no idea why he’s bringing this up and ruining the moment. “Are you serious?” “Very. You scammed me over a year ago and I expect a full repayment. Also, I happen to collect interest. It’s a hefty, hefty interest fee.” “Okay.” You play along. “What do I owe you now?” You’re not sure what to expect. You’re never sure when it comes to him considering he’s so hard to read. But your breath hitches as he lowers himself to one knee and looks up at you with his tender features relaxed into the softest expression. He pulls something out of his pocket. “Nothing. It’ll be me who will owe you, if you would so graciously choose to spend your life with me—” You throw your arms around Yoongi. The both of you collapse onto the soft bed of grass and you giggle infectiously, pulling yourself up from him. “You’re an idiot, you know that? I really thought that for the rest of your life, you were just going to send me letters.” Yoongi grins a gummy smile. His arms wrap around your body and he reaches up to finally capture your lips on his. The two of you kiss each other, making up for the moments where you should’ve done it sooner. It’s sweet, but less than innocent with how eager it is. You only manage to pull away when out of the corner of your eye, you catch curtains shifting from upstairs. “Nosy, aren’t they,” Yoongi laughs. At the left window, your family is crowding around. Taehyung and Lia are shoving each other to get a look, Seokjin has his palms pressed against the glass, your father is grinning while your mother is absolutely astounded. At the right, both of Yoongi’s parents are peeking out owlishly. You see different members of the faction watching in both horror and confusion, having not yet heard of the news that the engagement is broken and assuming that they’re catching him in the midst of a scandal. But more importantly, you see Klarinda smiling infectiously at the top of the tower with her dad coming to look too. “Exciting, isn’t it?” Yoongi teases, “With so many guests watching.” “Is it so hard to get some damn privacy? This is why I prefer being on the move,” you whine and cast invisibility on the both of you. Yoongi laughs, closing the distance to kiss you again.

[Epilogue] “What if this is a trap.” “Then we’ll grab our weapons. But I don’t think it is.” There’s a house in the middle of the peaceful suburbs, placed in the middle of the street in a row of other homes. Built with bricks covered in render and an oak roof with a chimney on the side, it stands tall in a fairly asymmetrical pattern. The windows are large and it looks like the structure has two floors. More importantly, they swear they see the curtains shift on the left side. The two young adventurers step up on the wooden porch, facing the oak double doors. “Do we just….knock?” “I guess.” His fist raps against the surface while she braces herself for an attack. The door swings open. She hitches her breath, but an onslaught of offensive spells never happens. Instead, they see you. In a simple, brown dress and your hair braided in an updo with loose strands framing your full features. Your eyes glisten, giving a smile and the door widens. “Good afternoon! You children look so tired! Come in, come in!” The pair of them exchange expressions before stepping inside. The interior instantly takes their breath — cozy maple and fresh flowers at the entrance way, mementos on a shelf near the open staircase with a magical pull to them. It’s clear that the owners of this house have made it their own. They can tell each object carries its own meaning and memory, not merely for decoration or the purpose of luxury. “My name is Y/N,” you announce, with a light twinkle in your irises. “And I am a servant girl to the lord and lady of the house. May I ask who has entered the home?” “I-I am Park Jimin. It’s said that there’s a great and powerful sorcerer who lives here and a dark knight who’s been to Shadowfell.” “They’ve defeated dragons and liches before,” the girl beside him adds, brows furrowed as she regards you with a healthy amount of suspicion. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m afraid they’re not here at the moment. They went out to do some bidding, so you might have to wait a few hours until they return,” you inform and the two of them look at one another. ���Can I ask for what reason you’re searching for them?” “We have received a prophecy and were sent by Mirla Nistar.” Jimin steps forward. “When lightning strikes twice, a man of darkness shall usher forth a country's doom and the end of wealth. We have reason to suspect that this man is the demon lord, Abraxas, who is trying to rise from Shadowfell.” You hum. “Alright. I’ll let them know as soon as they get back. Would any of you care for tea? I have the best honey and sugar available!” But suddenly, the dimpled boy feels a heavy weight on his mind. It’s a presence pressing on his brain, probing deep and whispering around the caverns of his skull for permission to be let inside. He grips his temples with a groan and his partner turns to him. “Jimin?” He looks off at you and she follows his line of sight. Before she can ask you what you just did, you slip something out of your pocket. In one split second— “Potion?” You hold up the stoppered bottle with the milky liquid sloshing inside. “You have a headache, don’t you? I know it when I see it! Must be from your long travels! Nothing like a rejuvenating potion to feel better.” “I..I’m alright.” Jimin lowers his hand. “Nonsense. You don’t want to miss this chance!” you emphasize. “I bet it wouldn’t even cost you a dime. You’re probably going to spend the same amount on some food or a place to stay at, so why not fork out some now? And it might be helpful for any upcoming adventures or expeditions!” “How much?” the skeptical girl slowly asks and you know you have it in the bag. “Ten gold pieces.” Your eyes glimmer. She digs into her satchel. But then— “What’s with the ruckus?” A rounded face and sleepy features lug down the stairs. He runs a hand through his baby yellow hair shagging in front of his forehead, having just woken up from a long nap. “Who are these people?” “They’re adventurers trying to defeat some demon punk—” “Demon lord,” the boy tries to correct. “—who’s apparently coming back to wreak havoc and steal children.” “Close enough,” he sighs. Yoongi makes a noise of acknowledgment, his expression impassive. Then his eyes dart at them and the potion in your hand. He points. “Are you trying to sell them that?” The corner of your mouth curls. “Maybe.” “Poor folks,” he exhales, utterly ruining your business transaction and not remorseful at all for it. “You’re going to get us into trouble one day.” You scoff. “When haven’t I gotten us into trouble. It’s not new news now.” Your husband grins and comes to sling an arm around your shoulder. He kisses you shamelessly in front of the two strangers, yet it’s a soft and tender gesture. It makes you smile against him. Suddenly, the door shuts behind them and the surrounding warm candlelight ignites. It billows a dim luminescence into the warm home that you’ve both made your own, glowing against the numerous mementos on the shelf that display the many years of your travels and journeys. Yoongi hugs you to his side and you quirk your head onto his shoulder with a sly smile. The adventurers finally come to recognize who the people in front of them are. And the pair of you turn to them. “What was it that you needed again?”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #yoongi adventure #bts adventure #yoongi as the stoic knight #and OC as the angry phoenix sorcerer lol #FINALLY AN END TO THE SERIES :D #hope you guys enjoy it #this is gonna be one of those ones that you're gonna need to read the original before the sequel lol #i think it's a hard one to understand without reading the one before