#and daring them to finally permit me to throw them out with a mean grin

[chaos-has-theories]

I am generally known as a nice and gentle person. I like being kind. It comes naturally, it makes me happy, etc etc.

I am a nice person.

Except when I'm tidying my parents' house, at which point I am instantly transformed into a petty bitch.

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 2

Here we gooooo :) Thanks again to @secretkeeper13, @accio-broom, @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey, @remedialpotions, @not-steve42, @jamezbot, @gryffindorhealer, and the majority of the HG server for their help <3

If you’ve just arriving, here is Chapter 1. :)

_____________________

D A Y  +  T W O 

He’s driving her mad. Absolutely fucking mad.

Ginny grips the hose in an attempt to water the rose bush outside their window, but her eyes are unfocused, unseeing.

This entire thing was such a terrible idea.

She should’ve insisted on another Auror as backup on her first solo mission. Someone less attractive. Someone she hadn’t shagged up one side of the Burrow and down the next.

But the request was difficult to grant in the first place. It took Ginny a full year of documentation to prove this was a necessary use of resources. Attica (and Unspeakables in general) don’t tend to be well-liked by the older Aurors, which made Harry the best fit. The only fit. Everyone— from Kingsley to Attica to even Hermione— agreed. And even aside from the sheer convenience of it all, Ginny’s years of experience with the Thought Chamber and Harry’s ability to sniff out trouble like a niffler after gold made them a brilliant combination to tackle… this.

It’s just a pity, then, that she still finds him so bloody attractive. Even though he’s become a bit of a brooding, sarcastic mess.

Ginny blinks down at the bright pink petals, their leathery flesh beaded with water droplets. Maybe the problem’s that she hasn’t spent much time around him since then. He still comes around for Sunday roast, of course, when his work schedule permits. In spite of what Mum went through, she’d never allow Harry to feel unwelcome. It’s his house as much as theirs— and yes, Ginny still lives at home. It’s the least she can do to maintain a degree of normalcy, even though everything irrevocably changed when It happened.

Ginny’s hands begin to shake around the hose; her brain starts to spiral. The Burrow is less welcoming now. Their hugs are more forced. Their family more distant. And although everyone functions on a basic human level, Ginny knows in her gut that the remaining Weasley siblings — Harry most certainly included — are still going through the motions to cope.

And maybe it’s because she really hadn’t had a libido in nearly five years, but fuck, it hasn’t taken much to come rushing back. Her thighs press together as her head fills with another series of intrusive thoughts instead. But she can’t suppress the memory of Harry emerging from the shower this morning, his top-half dripping, his bottom-half toweled. Not that it matters much, not when she knows every fucking inch of—

“I think that bush is good now!”

Ginny jumps, a string of swears springing to her lips. “I— fuck.” She turns to the unexpected voice. “Sorry! Let me—”

But Oliver from last night merely leans over to turn off the hose. “You’ll quickly learn that sort of language isn’t great for Arcadia, Jen,” he intones, finger wagging.

Years of training allow Ginny to blush in chagrin. To shove aside the telling-off she’d have provided a long, long time ago. “Sorry.” She winces. “It’s just a habit, leftover from—”

“—London, right,” he finishes, his eyes never leaving hers. “Anyway. Listen. Sharon and I would be honored if you joined us for dinner tonight.”

“Did I hear something about dinner?” Harry strolls out of the house, the door shutting behind him with a satisfying thump. “Goodie! As my wife knows, dinner is my favorite word.” He rests his chin on her head, sliding his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans. Ginny’s heart clenches in familiarity even as her face remains placid. They agreed to all of these terms beforehand… to feign public affection. To seem utterly smitten. It’s just funny how they’ve both relied on old habits.

Ginny reckons that makes sense, though. After all, it worked for them once.

She turns towards Harry with a pout. “But Pookie Pie, I thought your favorite word was snuggles! We certainly did enough of that last night.”

Harry’s chuckle rings out with false bravado as he tucks her hair behind her ears. “We did something, all right. Not sure if snuggling is the right word for it. What do you think, Oliver?” Harry whips around to face him. “What’s your favorite word for… marital relations?” His eyebrows waggle suggestively above his glasses; Ginny stomps on his foot to keep herself from laughing.

Oliver, however, does not find them delightful. “I think this is for you. From Mike.” He points to a box that he apparently rested on the ground while Ginny was drowning the roses.

Harry bends over to pick it up. This does nothing to distract her.

“Couldn’t Mike erm…” Ginny shakes her head to clear it. “Sorry. Couldn’t he bring it over himself? He lives just—”

“Out of town on business, I’m afraid.” Oliver’s voice turns cold as he peers at Ginny again. “He won’t be back for weeks. Months, maybe.”

Ginny makes a noise of concern and rests a fist on her hip. “Huh! That’s funny. What out-of-town business could a primary school teacher possibly have?”

Oliver’s eyes narrow, but his grin remains. “Teacher business, I guess.”

“When can we speak to someone about the trampoline?” Harry blurts, slicing the tension. “I’m missing my exercise, Ollie. It’s how I stay fit. You won’t like me when I’m not exercising!”

With that, Oliver’s grin finally fades. “Well, you can ask Mr. Gogolak, but I don’t think anything will come of it. He’s available tonight from 5 o’clock to 6:13, on the dot. He lives just up there, on the corner. Anyway, I’ll be off.” He gives a parting wave and turns to walk up the drive, but Harry isn’t done.

“Not sure how we’ll manage to make that and dinner, though,” he calls. “Don’t we have to be indoors by six?”

But it seems Oliver is absolutely intent on being elsewhere, because he opts to walk backwards and yell from the street. “Of course not!” he shouts. “Six is only the move-in deadline.” Then he barks out a cruel laugh, throwing his hands in the air. “Any idiot knows that dinner starts at 7!” With that, he sends them a final glare before lumbering away, his brown loafers crunching on the pavement.

Harry and Ginny snort in unison; if Oliver hears them, he doesn’t engage.

“See you later!” Ginny confirms, ensuring it’s loud enough for him to hear. Then she drops her voice to a stage-whisper and cups her hand into a regal wave. “Hope Sharon removes that stick from your arse before dinner tonight, you miserable sack of shit. Suck my dick!”

Harry laughs. “As much as I appreciate the support, Muffin Cakes, that’s one insult that just doesn’t work when you say it.”

And Ginny doesn’t know what comes over her next… she really, really doesn’t.

Because in the blink of an eye, she’s pushed Harry against the front door with a petulant pout. The pulsing between her legs returns with humiliating swiftness; it’s a blessing, really, that Harry’s dreadful at flirting and picking up on cues. They’re in public, but this is the furthest thing from acting.

Nonetheless, Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs as her arms drape around his neck. She watches, rapt, as his eyes darken. Apart from that one slip-up last night, he’s excelled at his job… and as she leans into his hard chest, she realizes how she really feels: she's jealous. Dreadfully jealous.

How dare he be better at this? What in hell gave him the right to soak her knickers with a single look? She’s had years of professional training and a lifetime of practice, but it comes naturally to him— this pretending shit.

And for fuck’s sake… he’s a lot better at it.

“But it’s been ages since you’ve been in my knickers, Baby Bear,” she croons, batting her eyelashes. “How would you know?”

She intends it playfully. A gentle way to put him in his place. But to her surprise, something stinging and sober crosses Harry’s face.

The moment’s over… absolutely over.

In a flash, he pushes her away and gestures at the door. After you. She nods, still turned on but now confused. The whole thing reminds her of ancient history, where she waited for him after each quidditch practice and thought, wished, prayed that he’d touch her… all while hoping to God he wouldn’t.

It takes until they’re inside for her to figure out why he’s upset.

He locks the door behind them with a wave of his wand— and when he whips around, his face is twisted into such a brooding scowl that it pins her on the spot. Shit.

“It goes without saying,” Harry mutters, voice dangerously low, “that there are some things a bloke just doesn’t forget.” He lets out a deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering. “Ok?”

Oh.

Ginny’s cheeks flush as it all comes rushing back. She’s honestly forgotten how… attached he was to that ability. How much he prided himself on being able to please her. How he worshipped her body with such respectful, hushed reverence that it still features in her fantasies.

It seems there’s a limit to his acting skills, after all. A line that he just won’t cross. She should be chuffed that she got what she wanted. Instead, her stomach throbs with guilt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it.” He waves his hand over his shoulder and trudges upstairs, leaving her in hollow silence.

Right.

_________________________________

Mr. Gogolak crosses his left leg over his right and swirls his brandy tumbler. Between the ruddy patches on his cheeks and the way his words slip over each other, it’s not his first of the evening. Harry’s reminded of Slughorn. In the worst possible way.

“Anyway.” Gogolak waves at the massive tabbed binder to his left. “As the rules clearly stipulate, a trampoline would lead to other things. Unsavory things.” He raises his eyebrows and takes a sip.

Harry’s eyes flit around the room, trying to take it all in. The decor is… nice, he supposes, if you want every guest to be aware — beyond a shadow of a doubt— that You’ve Been Abroad, thanks. Multi-colored felt flower vases dot the floating shelves above Gogolak’s head, each a pop of color in a room that’s otherwise painfully beige. Scrolls hand-painted with renditions of Buddha and Lokta hang on the far wall. And above them… Harry cocks his head, puzzled, and tries to place where he’s seen that particular mask before.

“Of course,” Ginny agrees with a fervent nod. “We understand the need for decorum and cooperation, don’t we, Hen?”

“Where‘s that mask from?” Harry blurts, nudging his chin up.

Ginny rubs her temples in frustration, but if anything, Gogolak seems flattered.

“Oh! That.” His face flushes with pride as he takes another drink. “That’s a wrathful Mahakala mask. From Tibet! I bought it cheap off a street orphan during my last trip. Can’t say he had much need for it, what with being starving and living in the street.” His laugh booms over the sitting room.

Harry tries to focus. He’s there for Ginny. He’s there for Ginny. He’s only backup. But ah, bugger, after the other shit today it’s too much, and—

“Ha!” Harry returns his humorless laugh. “Isn’t poverty hilarious, Jen?”

There’s an anxious pause.

Ginny ends it with a fake giggle of her own. “As you can see, Mr. Gogolak, my husband is growing a bit testy without his exercise!” She nudges Harry in the ribs— hard enough to make her point, but not hard enough to hurt. “So if we could only have the trampoline, then—”

“‘Fraid not,” Gogolak slurs, peering down at his brandy again. “See, there’s a reason Arcadia has been named Best Village for so long: People simply love to live here!”

“Oh?” Ginny returns her teacup to the table. “Everyone loves to live here?” She rests her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping to a discreet whisper. “What about the people who’ve gone missing, then?”

At first, Gogolak is unperturbed. Then his smile deepens, his eyes traveling from Ginny’s face down to her chest. For fuck’s sake. This arsehole can’t be serious! Harry’s gut swirls with something visceral and protective. He wraps his arm around her shoulders as his hand inches for the wand in his back pocket. Ginny catches his hand on the way and interlaces their fingers with an almost imperceptible, “Shh.”

“Well, well, well,” Gogolak drawls, leaning back to full-on leer at her. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Should’ve known. You’re a ginger, after all.”

Wrong answer.

“Not sure what the color of her hair has to do with her question,” Harry says stiffly. It’s the politest thing he can manage. Ginny squeezes his thigh.

Gogolak faces Harry instead, his face a mask of delighted malice. “Your wife is very beautiful, Mr. Petri,” he drawls. “You must forgive an old man for noticing.”

“Pee-tri,” Harry grouses.

Is it possible to accidentally Avada Kedavra someone with your eyes? Surely he’d be forgiven for that, yeah? He counts five deep breaths, his face burning, as he waits for Ginny to take the lead.

He’s still a bit taken aback at how quickly things changed. He thought he was irritated with her earlier, but now he realizes that frustrated is a better word. They haven’t been together in ages, but she has to know what she still does to him. It wasn’t like she’d grown less beautiful. And while he’s not proud of how things ended, he’s spent the last five years taking pride in knowing her. In being her first, as primitive and knuckle-dragging as that sounds. Because no matter how bad things were, he was always able to make her…

Yeah.

He bites the inside of his cheek. Had he deluded himself into thinking it was as good for her as it was for him?

Ginny clears her throat again. “But what of the people?” she prompts. “The missing people? Like Eric Highland, who lived in our house until last August, when—”

“Oh, him!” Gogolak booms out another uncomfortable laugh and drains the rest of his tumbler. “Well, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but—” He makes a slitting motion across his throat and pours himself another drink. “Committed suicide. Quite a mess.”

Then Gogolak stills, his eyes widening; for the first time this evening, he looks vaguely embarrassed. “Oh, but not in your home, of course!” He waves his hand dismissively. “We’d never, you know, let someone move in after that. Would affect property values, you see.”

Harry’s heart pounds in his ears as Ginny clenches his hand, for once. He wonders if he’s ever given less of a shit about property values.

Another span of uncomfortable silence stretches between them… but this one grows more furious and heated with every second. The version of her he knew before would have Bat Bogeyed this wanker before she took a breath. But everything’s different now.

“That’s… not the preferred term,” Ginny finally manages, her voice strained. Harry grips her hand more tightly; that odd rush of pride returns. He knew she’d say something. There’s not a single version of her that would let that go.

Gogolak’s brow furrows. “What do you—”

“—Took his life,” Ginny interjects, her voice ringing with the righteousness Harry only dimly recognizes from the woman he knew before. “Or died by suicide. Or had terminal depression.”

He holds her hand even tighter as she draws a deep breath, shifting in her seat. Get him, Gin. Get the bastard. Whatever you need, I’m there.

“Committed is a word that… implies a crime,” Ginny finishes. But her words sound careful now. “It just adds to the stigma that people with mental illness are problematic. Words mean things. So.”

Gogolak presses his lips into a thin line. “Forget I brought it up.”

“I will,” Ginny says coolly.

Ginny hadn’t thought much could be worse than the meeting with Mr. Gogolak. Unfortunately, dinner with Sharon and Oliver is proving her wrong.

“This is free-range chicken, of course,” Oliver drawls, gesturing towards their plates. “Got them at the organic market. Anything for health!”

They’d already been treated to iceberg lettuce salads and glasses of generic Merlot. Perhaps she should have anticipated chicken breast and rice as the thrilling main course.

Harry cuts his chicken breast with a sigh. “That’s a pity, Oliver. We all know that caged chickens are tastier!”

Ginny muffles a snort with a cough and reaches for her glass of wine.

Sharon pauses, fork mid-way to her mouth, to peer at Harry, bleary-eyed and confused. Oh, for fuck’s sake; what was it about suburbia that removed one’s ability to recognize a joke?

Oliver changes the subject before Ginny gets the chance. “Where did you two meet, anyway?” he grunts. “And how long have you been married?”

Ginny smiles, preparing the canned response they practiced for months. They met in uni through mutual friends. They both work in computers, and last year, they finally realized it was time to leave the big city.

Harry shatters all of that with three words.

“Magic camp, actually!” he announces, throwing an arm around Ginny’s shoulders.

Fuck. She analyzes her chicken with newfound intensity and tries to imagine something sad.

“Huh,” Oliver says flatly. “Wouldn’t have taken either of you for magicians.”

Sharon has the grace to act embarrassed. “Now now, love,” she chides, reaching for the breadbasket, “I’m sure people have loads of hobbies that aren’t always obvious to everyone!”

“Exactly!” Harry grins and reaches for a piece of baguette. “Besides, it’s mostly Jenny who’s mad for it. Card tricks, pulling bunnies from hats, sawing women in half. Even—” he pauses for a dramatic gasp— “magic wands! You name it, she loves it.”

“Well!” Sharon raises her eyebrows; it’s clear she’s feigning being impressed. “If I’m ever in need of disappearing something, I’ll know who to call!”

Aha! The perfect opening!

“Speaking of disappearing,” Ginny starts, as casually as possible, “we checked with Saint Julian’s Primary. It’s not true Mike left on business.”

Sharon’s smile freezes and melts with such speed that Ginny feels a pang of sympathy. Poor Sharon. She’s really just doing her best to be a pleasant hostess. It’s Oliver who has the clear ulterior motive.

The man in question takes another sip of wine, unfazed. “And why did you have interest in contacting a primary school in the first place? Bit weird for a grown adult, that.”

Harry releases another fake chuckle. “Oh, Oliver, you’re such a prankster!” He bites off some bread. “Surely you’re not turning the tables on my wife and accusing her of being the weird one. After all, all she did was ask about the whereabouts of a lovely member of our community. Right?”

He gives Oliver such an exaggerated wink that even Ginny almost believes him. “And besides…” Harry’s hand wraps around her shoulder again. “Do you reckon we should tell them?” he murmurs, voice laden with his expectation.

Ginny rolls her eyes, fully intent on a thin-lipped, silent warning about making shit up… but Harry’s earnest expression stops her. His green eyes blink behind his glasses, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned. Before she knows what’s happening, one of his warm hands cups her chin while the other comes to rest on her stomach.

Oh. She sucks in a breath, her heart pounding— because for a moment, she forgets where she is. She forgets they’re faking. She forgets they split up and chose separate paths, that they weren’t looking through a portal of what could have been, should have been, before their lives turned to shit.

“Not yet, of course,” Harry murmurs, appearing for all the world like he’s drinking her in as his fingers tap at her stomach. “But soon. We hope.”

And with that, he abruptly clears his throat and turns back to the Skinners. “Anyway, that’s why we called Saint Julian’s,” Harry adds, nonchalantly as you please. “Always good to be prepared, eh?”

“Oh, how exciting!” Sharon cries, clasping her hands together. “And yes, I agree— preparedness is key.”

“Knew you’d be happy for us,” Harry says with another wink. “Quite an exciting time, I’m sure you understand.”

It’s then that Ginny finds her voice. “So. Erm,” she starts, trying to focus. “They hadn’t heard from him. Mike. The school, I mean.” She takes another sip of wine to get her bearings back. “Any idea where he could’ve gone? You understand why we’re a bit worried, especially if we’re planning to—”

“No,” Oliver snaps, nostrils flaring. Sharon’s fork clatters to her plate; if swearing were allowed in this house, Ginny’s confident she would’ve let one slip. “I don’t understand, and you’ll find that snooping isn’t a past-time I appreciate,” Oliver finishes, drawing himself up taller to puff out his chest.

Ginny lets out an incredulous chuckle. “But Oliver… this is a matter of safety. We’re worried about our neighbor.”

“Yeah, Ollie-O!” Harry clucks his tongue, relaxing further into his chair. “Perhaps Arcadia isn’t as perfect as we were led to believe.”

Oliver just fixes them both with a stern glare. “Nope,” he says flatly. The p pops. “You’re wrong. Per usual.”

For six seconds, the four of them sit in painful, frigid silence. Ginny feels Harry’s hand reach behind him… inching closer to his wand...

“Jenny!” Sharon finally chirps, her voice a falsetto. Oh, thank fuck. “I need to walk the dog. Would you join me?”

___________________________

Captain Bone’s toenails tick on the pavement as Sharon holds his lead. Ginny peers at him with unexpected affection as he prances beneath the street lights. Dogs are too high-maintenance for her to even consider, but something about this one is undeniably appealing. As if he hears her, Captain Bone turns to Ginny with a slobbery grin.

Sharon laughs. “He likes you. He’s a sucker for a pretty girl.”

Ginny scratches beneath the thick leather collar with Captain Bone emblazoned on a bronze plate. He throws his head back for more access. Poor Captain Bone. The whole collar looked horribly uncomfortable. “I like him too,” Ginny agrees as he flounces away. “I’m afraid work keeps me too busy for a dog, though.”

Sharon waves this away. “Nah. I’ve seen the way Henry stares at you.” She flashes a knowing smile as they continue strolling, side-by-side. “I reckon if you really wanted a dog, he’d oblige.”

Captain Bone halts, mid-step, and picks up his leg. Sharon removes a waste bag from her pocket.

“You’re probably right,” Ginny mutters. She’s not sure why that feels like admitting to a scandal.

Sharon sighs. “The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. Like he’s holding the whole world in his hands.” Her voice grows wistful, distant; Ginny has a feeling she’s not actually talking about Harry at all.

“Well, we are newlyweds.” Ginny mashes her kitten heel — a clothing acquisition specific to this assignment — into the pavement. “I’m erm. Sure that’ll change.”

But Sharon just stares at Captain Bone as he does his business. “Maybe,” she says softly. “But I don’t reckon Oliver ever looked at me quite like that.”

Ginny blinks at Sharon beneath the streetlight, the fluorescent throwing her features into sharp relief. Wrinkles fold the corners of her eyes. Bits of gray sprout at her scalp beneath the warm chestnut color. Her smile may have been natural once, but now it’s forced. Uneasy. Ginny grimaces. This poor woman… imagine thinking you couldn’t do better than a wanker like Oliver.

“Shit!” Sharon swears, ripping Ginny from her reverie— and soon, she sees why. Captain Bone charges down the street, his lead scraping the ground like a limp noodle. “I wasn’t holding him tightly enough,” she whispers, horrified. “I’ll have to—”

“No,” Ginny says, taking off her heels and thrusting them into Sharon’s arms. “Let me!” And with that, she’s off, bare feet slapping the pavement.

“Don’t blame you for trying to get away,” Ginny mutters, rounding a corner. “The place is bloody creepy. But next time, Captain Bone, could you do this in broad daylight? Nighttime ‘round here is—”

Wait.

Ginny stops, dead in her tracks. A weird sensation creeps over her, crawling against her skin. All the street noise vanishes. Crickets stop chirping; wind stops whistling. She looks around, panic rising in her throat, but nothing looks amiss. She can’t shake it, though… their eerie, numb ringing that fills her head, and—

Like a thunderclap, it all comes back. The faint wind returns. Bugs resume their buzzing. The electric lamppost makes a dull crackling just above her.

Weird. Very fucking weird.

Luckily, Ginny specializes in weird; in the aftermath of whatever the hell that was, she’s more confused than frightened. She takes a few more shaky steps, making every observation she can (temperature, cloud pattern, weather conditions, insect movement)... and that’s when she spies something glinting to her left. Something golden and stuffed in a storm drain.

No. Ginny’s heart pounds as she rushes over, sinking to her knees. It can’t be…

But the closer she gets, the clearer it is: Mike’s chain necklace… the medallion of Saint Julian. Right beside Captain Bone’s pretentious leather collar. For the first time, fear floods her stomach. She surreptitiously reaches for the wand tucked into her waistband. “Accio necklace.” It soars through the gate and into her hand just as Sharon’s footsteps round the corner.

Ginny shoves the necklace into her bra— and it’s only then she realizes that there must’ve been something strange and slimy hanging from it, because whatever the fuck that was is now pressed to her right nipple.

Blech. It takes every bit of her willpower not to shudder and gag. She manages to school her features into innocent concern as Sharon finally catches up.

“Well,” pants Sharon, hands on her thighs, “did you find him?”

“No,” Ginny laments, genuinely upset. She gestures towards the storm drain. “But for some reason, his collar’s down there.”

Even beneath the streetlamps, Sharon’s face turns white.

______________________________

Harry’s back muscles contract in agony as he hunches over the laptop. This whole assignment is a painful reminder that he’s not as young as he used to be. How many hours did he spend snoozing on the lawn at Hogwarts without so much as an ache? But a single bloody night on these shit couches, and he’s popping Paracetamol like sweets. He shifts in place; must be time for another dose.

“Hear anything?” Ginny emerges from the walk-in closet in a towel turban and fluffy white dressing gown, two evidence bags in her hands.

Harry glares at the laptop screen and tries very hard not to remember that one of those bags contains a lacy black bra— one he definitely hasn’t seen before. For the past hour, he’s been in an envious haze of wondering if she bought it for the mission or bought it to wear for someone else.

Either way, it consoles him that deep down, she’s still Ginny; she took this necklace and shoved it into her bra without letting on that something vile and gross was pressed to her ti—

He shakes his head to clear it, but that hurts his neck. For once, though, he embraces the pain. Anything to shift his focus.

“From the props department? No.” Harry sighs and retrieves the medicine bottle from his luggage. “I swear, I have no idea who they got to make the moving boxes and pick the couches, but I’m fairly sure Victoire could do better.”

Ginny scoffs at this. “Well, of course Vic could do better. She’s the most perfect, adorable human alive,” she says fondly, tossing the evidence bags in the transporter box.

It’s plain cardboard, easily disguised as a standard moving box. But with three taps of her wand, the bags evaporate, presumably materializing in a Ministry lab somewhere. Not that Harry cares about the specifics. This is a key example of the sort of detail that’s less and less intriguing the longer he holds this job.

“But I was actually asking if you’d heard anything about Mike and — hey, what are you doing?”

“Paracetamol,” Harry mutters, popping open the bottle. “I’m getting old, Ginny,” he warns, rising to his feet with an exaggerated grimace. “Dunno why you thought it would be a good idea to go on a mission with an old man.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the bathroom. “You don’t need to be so bloody noble. Please join me on the bed. We could make it longer, even, if you—”

He clears his throat to cut her off. That would be a terrible idea on all counts. Silence on the other side of the door tells him that Ginny either realizes this or chooses not to press the issue. Good...

“Erm. There’s no hits on Mike,” Harry calls into the bathroom. “I reckon he’s dead, Ginny. Credit cards and car haven’t been touched.”

The tap turned on behind the door. “Can’t say I’m shocked,” Ginny admits, voice muffled, “but— holy hell, who taught you how to squeeze toothpaste?”

Harry smirks and returns to the computer. “Myself, probably.”

Ginny lets out another irritated groan. “And the toilet seat’s up!” She strides out of the bathroom. “Strike two!”

Harry hears the distinctive sound of clothing hitting the floor beside her bed but wills himself not to turn around, not to turn around, not to—

“Well.” Ginny sucks her teeth as the bedding rustles. “I suppose I should take all of that as a good sign, really. You clearly don’t have girls in and out of your flat.”

Oh?

Harry’s heart thunders in his ears, his stomach flipping in hope. She takes that as a good sign? Really? He glimpses over his shoulder before remembering he’s not supposed to look.

And just as quickly, he regrets it.

Because Ginny’s sprawled back against the bed, her face so white that she nearly blends into the linens, but his eyes aren’t too focused on her face. They’re drawn down, down, down… down to her creamy chest, dotted with chocolate freckles. Down to her breasts, which he definitely still knows every inch of, even as they rest beneath a black lace vest he hasn’t seen before. Down to the shorts that hug her hips and graze the tips of her thighs… the same thighs he spread open and dipped his head between as she tugged on his hair, her cries breathy and panting in the garden’s evening mist.

Ah, fuck. That one does it. Harry adjusts his basketball shorts as discreetly as possible, but another glimpse at her face tells him he didn’t need to worry.

“I can’t believe I said that,” she whispers, eyes filled with horror.

Harry clears his throat. He honestly forgot she said anything. Now he just feels guilty for eyeing her up while she spiraled.

“I’m so… fuck. This is so unprofessional.” She sinks her head into her hands. “Please, Harry, forget that I said anything. I’m so sorry. That was—”

“It’s forgotten,” he rumbles, his voice deeper than he realized. “Legitimately. I’ve already forgotten it.”

She shoots him a weak smile through the slits of her hands. “I know you haven’t. But thanks for saying it.”

Harry offers his best expression of bafflement as he picks up a pillow from the end of her bed. “Haven’t a clue what you mean, Unspeakable GW. See you at 0-700 hours.” He stops halfway out the door and gives her a military salute. “Unless, of course, you decide to start a bit later,” he adds seriously, “in which case I’ll see you… erm. 0-whenever-the-hell-you-wake-up-hours.”

Ginny giggles, settling against the pillows again.

“Thanks,” she says after a moment, peering at her cuticles. “For… everything. And especially for forgetting—” She makes a vague hand gesture as her cheeks flush the most fascinating shade of pink.

Harry stills, one hand on the doorknob.

He wants to make her feel better… but really, it’s more than that. He wants to tell her that his heart still jumps into his throat when he hears about an Unspeakable being injured on the job. He wants to admit that he avoids Sundays at the Burrow not because he stopped caring, but because he cares too much. He wants to confess, in a rush of passion, that she wasn’t just his first: she’s his only. That he reckons she’ll always be his only. That exchanging work for Them was the stupidest thing he ever agreed to, regardless of the circumstances.

Oh, and of course, that he still fucking loves her. Harry rubs his forehead, frustration gnawing at his stomach. Why in hell did he admit that to himself? You never admit that to yourself. What an idiot.

Still, they have a mission… a moronic, suburban mission filled with every literal and metaphorical breed of Karen imaginable. But as worthless as Harry considers this whole assignment, her neck is on the line if they come up empty-handed. And she values her assignment— and her neck, he reckons— quite a bit.

So he makes the choice to both reassure her. And to be foolishly honest.

“Erm… for what it’s worth?” Harry croaks, staring down the dark corridor to avoid meeting her eyes. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted in my bedroom, anyway.”

Before she can reply, he closes the door and walks away. His cheeks burn as he pads downstairs, but Harry knows it’s best to leave it, really. To save them both the awkwardness.

Even if it means sleeping on this shit couch forever.

[nafeary]

“Love And Reason Keep Little Company Together”

⚬ Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte/Reader

⚬ Character/s: Napoleon Bonaparte

⚬ Warning/s: Cursing

⚬ Word Count: 1.7k

⚬ Occasion: @delicateikemenmemes BDay 💜💜💜

✧✎ Synopsis: You’d think that—after fulfilling the chore of waking le monsieur de wahaha almost every day—rising in the former emperor’s arms would loose its charm over time, but every morning you two got to share together was special. Special, indeed.

✧✎ A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL! I’ve been meaning to start this like... one and a half months ago, but I only really did so around last week in my true procrastinating fashion. Btw, I derived the plot of this scenario from an idea Sara provided me with upon asking what her ideal cuddle scenario with Sir Baenaparte is. I didn’t end up using it, so it was the perfect opportunity to be a bit sneaky hehe.

And massive thanks to @fairy-marshmallow for beta-reading this! I wouldn’t have posted this if it weren’t for you 💜

I hope you (and everyone else) will have a great day, and remember to drink your water.💧

He had tried staying awake; certainly, he had.

But as soon as you had stood up to crank a window open, he was knocked out cold—the gentle puffs escaping his lips the only sign keeping you from seeking out the resident doctor. It was in an effort to chase away the uncomfortable humidity inside his room that you permitted the cold drafts to stream like rivers of rimy icicles, creating the perfect climate to fall into a deep slumber.

You didn’t mind him breaking his promise to fall asleep together. On the contrary, you were elated that you ended up winning the bet.

“Nunuche… I want to fall asleep with you today,” he had muttered, forcing his droopy eyes to stay open (which resulted in an awkward succession of repetitive blinking).

You could only chuckle at his adorable enthusiasm. “You don’t have to, Leon… I doubt you could even manage.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

While you hadn’t decided on your prize beforehand, being able to slip beneath the duvets to cuddle into the former emperor’s side seemed like a fitting reward.

Despite the heavy set of blankets, shivers crawled up your spine at the rain wafting icy fronts throughout the room. You had just woken up, absentmindedly inhaling a tantalizing scent, something reminiscent of violets. Your mind felt numb for a moment and you nuzzled your head further into the mattress; it was comfortable and warm, but oddly hard.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you came to realize that you were tightly cocooned by Napoleon’s arms. His breathing was steady, the rise of his chest every few moments a rhythm more serene than Mozart’s nocturnes. You could feel more than hear his heartbeat as your head rested just above it. With your arm draped over him, you acutely realised that your leg was wedged in between his.

Grasping for every bit of heat you possibly could, you snuggled deeper into his warm arm-cocoon—the window could wait, and you’d gladly risk frostbite if it could prolong this moment of pure tranquillity.

You dared to peek at your lover’s face, and your heart slammed into your throat, a plethora of memories and emotions reigning your thoughts. While you might not have been in a relationship for long, the experiences you two have gathered upon the way spoke tales of spent decades. You remembered how he’d called you a chore, and other infuriating terms (but you could pardon his 19th century mindset), you remembered how he’d do his best to hide his dark side from yourself, yet how he opened up—exposing the deepest shadows within his mind.

But most of all, you remembered all the trivial moments, the at-times domestic life you were blessed with. You remembered how he told you of his heart racing a little too rapidly at the sight of you, and how you noticed that his lashes couldn’t stop flicking up and down and how his hazy eyes gleamed after your every move.

Just as he had done, you allowed your gaze to inhabit his features, the innocent expression on his face contradicting his bloody past, the gentle pout on his bruised lips making him appear so much younger than he actually was.

Napoleon was entirely too gorgeous, and you sometimes wondered whether he wasn’t actually an angel or a demon—if not both. The things he made you feel with a single look or word compelled you to each and every sinful bidding of his, a commander in every sense. And you’d submit to him readily. Your trust ran deeper than blood ever could, and you knew he’d do the same for you. Despite your shared history, some doubts still infested your mind, a maudlin area of your thoughts you assayed to part from. But it was almost impossible not to spend time contemplating whether you were truly compatible for instance.

A morning yawn halted your reminiscing, the following shrill mewl escaping Napoleon’s mouth prompting you to giggle slightly. Sunlight unfurled in golden ribbons, prompting his lashes to flutter in protest as they hesitated to fully open.

“Parbleu...” he mumbled drowsily, tense muscles screeching for release as he stretched his limbs down to the tips of his toes, like a cat who had just awoken from a well-rested nap. After a few moments of motionless silence, his brain finally warmed up to the idea of waking up.

When he turned to face you, all your worry faded at the sight of his genuinely handsome, if not slightly crooked, grin. A glimpse was more than enough for you.

Burying a hand in your hair, he leaned forward and your lips extinguished any remainder of the autumn air that plagued the room, coming together in a zephyr-like kiss. You could feel his lips stretch into an ever-so-gentle simper, making your toes dance with happy feelings. Once he had miraculously gotten rid of his waking-up habits (“how could I ever kiss someone else when I have my nunuche to help me out?”), his morning kisses—the conscious ones—never failed to make you feel cherished. They were the sweetest kind that numbed your mind and enriched every sense.

You parted rather reluctantly, but he continued his assault down your neck as he encompassed you within his strong arms once again, the heat of his body flush to your back all the more prominent. Eventually, his face came to rest near you nape after a few delicate kisses to your lobe, his muffled words barely legible to you. “I didn’t understand a word you said, ‘Leon.”

“Bonjour, mon amour,” he said with a blinding smile, lifting himself slightly off your neck... only to be interrupted by a completely unabashed fit of laughter.

“...you’re laughing at my hair again, aren’t you?”

He ceased his hysterics, just enough for him to talk, that is. “Your “bedhead”, I believe you called it, is extraordinaire, I’m sorry.”

You were about to reply, but his fingers combing through your hair distracted you from all ire. He took his time with each stroke, carefully fighting his way through any knots while also making sure that he doesn’t end up hurting you.

The sun had risen considerably the next time you paid attention to it, noticing that you’d completely driven off to dreamland. It was your boyfriend’s voice that interrupted your nap. “Nunuche?”

“Hm?” You mumbled drowsily, grabbing onto his forearms to ward off the creeping cold.

Noticing the goosebumps scattered across your skin, he pulled his blankets further up your body. “I don’t need this much. That’s your blanket anyway— hey!” Ignoring your furrowed brows, he tucked the fabric all the way to your chin, refusing your protests with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but grumble a little. “Happy?”

“I am.” His actions did produce a feeling of petulance creeping up your throat, like so many other residents managed to, but the affection and glee burning in his eyes quickly dissolved it—a gentle burn across your cheeks the only remainder of your exasperation.

Sighing slightly, you asked, “Weren’t you saying something?”

“Ah, of course,” he said, propping himself above you with his arms before commencing, “have I ever told you how much I adore waking up to your voice? How grateful I am to see you next to me first thing in the morning?”

His words chased away your exasperation, butterflies erupting within your stomach begging to burst free, carrying their messages of euphoria for the entire world to experience. If it wasn’t for the blanket fort restricting your every movement, you’d be throwing your arms around him—consequently squeezing every tiny bit of negative thoughts out of him.

Napoleon seemed to notice your wish, gradually lowering himself right above your face, so close, you could feel his hands indenting the mattress beside your face, feel his lashes brush your cheeks, feel his breath fan across your face. And as trivial as it might have sounded, you didn’t catch yourself minding the odour of his unwashed mouth, nor the sleep crust inhabiting the corner of his eyes. This moment felt so domestic and mundane—yet so important.

You were completely and utterly whipped for this man.

“You deserve the world,” you managed to breathe out, captivated by your love for this man, and intoxicated by the feeling of being desired and cherished.

His quiet laugh shook his chest. “Considering that you are my world, that’s all I could ever hope for.”

Just as his lips were about to meet your own, your eyebrows lifted your lids, only to come back down in absolute annoyance. You couldn’t believe the timing of the worst morning aspect nature has graced humans with—worse than morning breath could ever be.

Your bladder was calling for relief.

In a desperate attempt to make a run to the en-suite bathroom, you wriggled beneath the vampire’s arms (taking a short moment to admire the veins running along them before proceeding your mission). However, he snug his arms around your waist, still clad in the heavy duvets. “Is everything alright?”

Glancing at his slivering pout, you internally cursed Sebastian for asking you for a late night tea session. “Don’t worry, I just need to use the toilet real quick.”

Instead of releasing you, he only pulled you closer, the blankets forcing you back onto the mattress into an ungrateful burrito-like form.

“It’s too cold and early to stand up.”

No matter how much you wriggled within his tight lock, he didn’t relinquish his siege on your body and only continued to press you to his chest.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Reason and rationality were apparently not included in the monsieur’s dictionary. “Napoleon Bonaparte,” you craned your neck as far back as possible, “if you don’t let me go right now, I WILL consider peeing all over you.”

That seemed to stupefy him, granting you enough time to roll out of his reach as he processed your outburst. He could only blink as you sprinted past him, throwing the door into its hinges behind you.

Napoleon stared, stunned, after his girlfriend, perplexed—if not amused—by your unusual ways. Nevertheless, he had enjoyed the show, laughing as he buried himself into your pillow, feeling luckier than ever to be loved by someone so endearingly unique and adorable.

Tag list: @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[yandere-wishes]

🕌 A Whole New World // Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x Reader//🕌

Worst thing I’ve ever written 😭  😭 😭 😭 But it’s out before the new chapter so I’m content lol.

 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌 🕌

"Oh my isn't it amazing?" (y/n) hugged the book closer to her chest an excited squeal leaving her lips as she laid down flat on the plush Persian carpet. Kalim crawled over to where she was abandoning his conversation with Jamil and half-eaten sandwich. "What'cha reading," the young prince asked curiously. 

(y/n) lazily cracked open an eye, her bright smile ever-present. "It's the 1001 Arabian nights! The one by that famous storyteller from the Land of Hot Sands! " Her voice held a dreamy tone. Kalim's eyes widen in some sort of foreign comprehension. Nostalgia flashed in his marigold orbs. "Jamil! Do you remember those stories from when we were little?" His head wiped around, eyeing his childhood friend. The black-haired youth-only nodded absentmindedly as he chewed on his sandwich. "Jamil use to read me one of the Arabian night's stories before I went to bed each night!" Jamil just hummed in agreement, he seemed too wrapped up in intentionally ignoring the conversation. 

Kalim flopped on his back, arms pulled back acting as a pillow. His eyes never once left your frame, his piercing gaze was practically glued to your body. "SO~~ Which one is your favorite?" his tone was light and cheerful, he just seemed so oddly happy. Brushing it off you guessed it might have just been the sentimentality talking. Mentioning those old stories must have stirred some childhood reminiscence. Your eyelids fluttered downwards, closing in thought as your mind raced through the countless stories you had consumed throughout the day. But there was one that seemed to shine rather brightly in your head.

"I guess the lovers of Bassorah, there's just a sort of hopeful ring to the whole story...It's hard to explain but it kinda proves that true love isn't just an open pathway. There are numerous difficulties that lovers must face before they can hold each other in their arms." When you finally opened your eyes again, you noticed that Kalim's grin had been replaced with a quizzical look.  His eyes scrunched, traversing between you and Jamil. Signing the older boy, he finally shuffled over to the two of you. He crossed his leg before explaining the story to Kalim. Realization dawned on the white-haired boy, you listened in wondering if Jamil had actually memorized the old folk tale. But as the story progressed there seemed something off about Jamil's retelling, something gritter, grimmer even...It was wrong, so wrong that it sent a flood of shivers up your spin. But a quick glance at Kalim made it obvious that the prince was not only undisturbed by the fables 

The sun had started to die quite some time ago. The sky was painted in bright melting colors that seemed to resemble sugary sweets. Jamil and (y/n) had started packing up the little picnic while Kalim sat and watched. His red eyes followed (y/n) as she nimbly picked up the plates and leftover food. She was so breathtaking, so enchanting, something about the way she moved and talked had poor little Kalim bewitched. He couldn't help the fantasies that kept sprouting in his mind. The longing to hug you close to his chest, to feel your warmth, breath in your scent.  He could imagine them so vividly that they were practically felt real. 

With a heavy sigh Kalim waved good-bye as the young girl walked away to her dorm room, book pressed close to her heart. 

Kalim watched with a  downhearted look as the last rays of sunlight screamed for help before being engulfed by the darkness of the night. Every couple of moments the young prince would tear his gaze from the starry tapestry to throw a childish lovesick complain to his childhood friend -who's body was beginning to tremble with visible annoyance- each nag circulated around the same premiss. "Why doesn't (y/n) love me?" over and over and over again. Really Kalim didn't mean to be a bother he was so wrapped up in his sorrow that he could bother to remember what words had slipped from his lips moments ago. It was well into the late-night when Kalim turned once more to Jamil his shoulders slumped, poster slagging. His mouth opened, but before any words could escape into the large room. Jamil stood up, feet stomping on the rug under him. Angrily Jamil marched over to Kalim his arms swinging before grabbing ahold of Kalim's shoulders. His long nails dug into the royal's shoulders. "Listen Kalim, I'm getting sick of this puppy crush of yours! Can you please just forget--" Jamil stopped mid-sentence, his grey eyes widening as a plan hatched in his mind, slithering around the most devious parts of his brain. A smirk formed on his chapped lips, "Kalim!" His excited tone reverberated off the walls. "Grab the flying carpet! We're going to get you a date!" Jamil ran for the door, picking up the dorm leader staff on his way. Kalim watched his friend race out the room, he remained stunned for a second before he ran after Jamil yelling; "But where do we keep the flying carpets?? Jamil! Help!" 

The cool night air washed over you, as you stood by the window, brush in hand, combing your messy locks. Your eyes carelessly jumped from star to star, soaking in their twinkling brightness. Each star seemed to sparkle a little more vividly when your gaze landed on it. It was almost like they were silently wishing you goodnight....or warning you about the secrets the night was hiding. 

You were shaken from your stargazing by the sound of a slamming door. You didn't think much of it, brushing it off as just being one your friends sneaking in for a late-night chat. Casually you turned around, only to be stricken by a wave of fear, slither across your lavish dorm room, was something out of a nightmare. A larger then life serpent was bolting for you, it's scales glittered in the chandelier light, flashing between shades of gold and ruby sometimes even turning as pitch black as a starless midnight. Its tongue flickered out sniffing the air then crashing back between its lips. For a fraction of a second, your eyes met, the monstrous snakes grey orbs seemed to be mocking you. You were sure that if he was able the monster would have been laughing at your distress. 

With each step you took in retaliation, the snake slithers forward, it's towering body was constantly looming over your petit frame. You were pushed up against the open window, no place left to hide. The snake was far to close, it's tongue grazed your cheek each time it darted outwards. You were finished, hopelessness was to the only feeling that floated through your body. You closed your eyes, ready to accept your fate. That was until a gust of cold wind blew across your face, carrying with it the sound of your name. At first, you kept your eyes closed, blaming it on your subconscious. But the noise of your name kept coming back to your ears. Finally, in a desperate attempt, you dared to turn away from the snake and spare a glance outside. Your eyes widen, hope bubbled in your gut. Standing outside your window floating on one of the infamous flying carpets was nonother than the dorm leader of Scarabia. 

"(y/n)!" his voice was like a god sent, pure melody to your ears. "Do you trust me?" His hand was extended palm awaiting your own hand. You didn't think for a moment, instantly you reached out and grabbed his arm, permitting yourself to be dragged out the glass-less window. Your knees hit the concrete of the outer wall as you tumbled onto the flying carpet. The carpet didn't miss a beat, the second your flesh hit the rug, it was off soaring into the dark night. 

The icy wind blew across your face, your body was pressed suffocatingly close to Kalim's as he navigated the flying tool across the clouds. Your heart was still pounding in fear, each beat reverberated through your bones adding an additional layer of panic. The hight and constant maneuvering of the carpet did little to ease your stress. Nether you nor Kalim had spoken since the journey began. You bite your lip waiting for him to make the first move. To say something, anything! However, what ended up breaking the silence was rather unexpected joyous laughter coming from your companion. "That was a pretty convincing show that Jamil put on wasn't it (y/n)?" there was no malice in his tone if anything it came off more as if this was all a game. A young child laughing after a good game of hiding and seek.

You turned to Kalim with a shock written all over your face. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! I JUST GOT ATTACKED..." Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs where heaving trying to pull in more oxygen to no avail. It only now began to dawn on you just how high up the two of you had gotten. Kalim must have also been facing the same problem as the leaned his weight to the front of the carpet, causing it to accelerate downwards. You let out a shrike of terror, arms wrapping around the white-haired youth. "that’s overexaggerated, it’s really isn’t that big of a deal”

Your eyes widened how could he not think that this was a big deal. It didn't matter wither that snake was really Jamil or not, the shock was real, the fear was real. "Is this some sort of cruel joke!" you yelled. Kalim shot you a confused look, one of his hands reached up to entwine his fingers in your flowing locks. “But I thought you said this kinda thing was hot!“ Kalim genuinely sounded both hurt and confused. His eyes were pooled with deep sadness. You gulped "What are you--" your memory flashed back to the stories the two of you had discussed earlier that morning. In each story, the protagonist had to stage some sort of clever catastrophe to earn their lover's affection. In multiple stories, the hero always lore their lover into some sort of danger then swoop in and save them. That was had happened, Kalim had tried to show you that he loved you by both putting your life in danger and saving it. "Kamil look I--" He pushed a finger to your lips, shushing you wordlessly " Stop pretending you don't want this, you and I, we're meant to be so just for tonight let's pretend we’re the only people in the world". For the second time, that night uneasiness overflooded your sense, but in an impulsive fit of bravery and longing, you waved it off. Nodding as you wrapped your arms tighter around Kalim's waist, enjoying the scenery of the sand dons and the sweet flowery scent that came from Kalim. 

You weren't sure when it had happened but at some point, the melody of the breeze along with the peaceful silence had lulled you into a tranquil slumber. You were stirred from your sleep by the rays of the rising sun. Slowly you pushed yourself up, there was something off about the bed you where laying on, somehow it felt much plusher than your own bed. As you attempted to turn you felt a sharp pain pulling you back onto the mattress. You moved around tugging your arms forward only to see the metal cuffs, orienting your wrists... something had happened during that carpet ride, what it was exactly you weren't sure. But you knew that you would soon get your explanation once Kalim returned. 

In one of the rooms in  Scarabia, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard. Blood trickled down Kalim's arm. dripping onto the carpets and oozing into the seems. Joyfully Kalim spun around, droplets of the crimson liquid flying off in all directions. Jamil sighed as he began dragging the body. "stop making a mess Kalim. Don't you think it was wrong to kill the boy? He was just a friend of (y/n)'s, nothing more." The white-haired royal stopped to look at his friend, a bright smile plastered across his face. “Nothing we do will ever be wrong if it's for (y/n)! She can't have anyone else but us in her life! They'll just be distractions!" Jamil rolled his eyes as he continued pulling the lifeless corps out into the balcony to be turned to dust. All the while Kalim skipped behind him joyfully humming some old tune and dreaming about his awaiting darling. 

[highordinal]

When a Man Dies, It All but Fades to Black

“Give me the scythe.”

Kayn raised a brow as Jarvan stepped forward, the emperor’s arm extended outward. Although he didn’t feel threatened, he simply rolled his eyes; what a ludicrous request from the other. Now where had he heard this line before? Ah, yes, with Nakuri when his mind was clouded by Rhaast’s false promises. With the Syndicate that were lured in by the entity’s calls.

He had heard this all before but for someone so pure of heart, someone who cared not for the domination of the galaxy, someone like Jarvan, to demand this wretched steel from him… He must admit, he was taken aback. It was concerning and it left the Ordinal a little miffed. Had Rhaast been gossiping behind his back? Fraternizing with those around him and feeding them lies? It was impossible, with how loud and brash the dark star was, Kayn would have heard it.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, your majesty.” The Ordinal finally stated with a slight upturn of his lips; his voice shrouded in its usual sarcastic tone.

Rhaast screamed in the back of his mind, threatening him with a fate worse than death if he relinquished him to the emperor. Ah, so the demon wasn’t playing his usual tricks then? So then why was Jarvan so intent on obtaining the scythe? So many possibilities to ponder, but not enough time to narrow down any suspicions. As much as he respected his emperor, there was no way his naïve mind would have picked up on his little escapades throughout the galaxy. His tracks were covered flawlessly, those who dared to spill his secret were dealt with swiftly. He had put precautionary measures in place after every step he took, always making sure he had an alibi or a plan B.

“Kayn.” Jarvan’s tone became darker. “I will not ask again. Give me the scythe.”

Hm? Oh, right, his emperor was demanding something from him. With a dramatic sigh the Ordinal placed his hands on his hips, glancing off to the side. “As much as I would love to indulge your request, my emperor, I’m afraid I simply cannot deliver.”

The brunette’s frown deepened, azure eyes narrowing at his subordinates' defiance. He huffed before taking his polearm and slamming its end onto the metallic floors. A loud clang resonated through the room, afterwards the doors to the chamber were pushed open and a line of soldiers streamed in, cutting off any means of escape. After them a familiar, colorful crew stepped into the chamber, causing a momentary look of shock across the soldier's features.

A smile spread onto the Ordinal’s face, a curt laugh he couldn’t control passing his lips as he turned to look over his shoulder. “You called my own men on me?” He acknowledged in disbelief, golden irises trailing back towards the royal. “And you even sought aid from Demaxia’s wanted fugitives?”

“You left me with little choice.” Jarvan answered, earning a scoff from his friend. “This hurts me more than you would know, Shieda-”

“Oh?” The soldier cut in, turning to gaze at each of his men, “You call me in here under the false pretenses of friendship, demand I hand over my weapons, and then you cage me like a deranged beast using my own soldiers? Oh Jarvan,” He sounded amused, “You truly know how to break a man’s heart.”

“Enough!” The emperor shouted. “You have abused my trust for years, and it all started with that damned scythe. If you do not wish to lose your station, and by extension your reputation, you will hand over that weapon.”

“Reputation.” Shieda echoed, “As if something like that matters to me anymore. I’ve sacrificed everything I’ve worked toward to keep this weapon out of the hands of those that would use it for evil, and frankly I think I’m doing a rather swell job-”

“You think killing innocent people and harvesting their Ora is a swell job!?” Jarvan finally snapped, taking several steps forward. “You have done nothing but commit heinous deeds behind my back, hiding behind the excuse that it was in the name of the royal family! I never permitted such deeds and yet- yet you hid behind my name and tarnished Demaxia’s image!”

The Ordinal twitched, anger swelling in his chest. “Nothing? You say I’ve done nothing? While you sat there looking all pretty on your golden throne I was the only one scouring the galaxy doing your bidding! I conquered for you, negotiated for you, killed for you, and you say I’ve done nothing!?” His throat was hoarse with raw emotion, his shouts straining his vocal cords as he seethed in anger. “That blood is on my hands, not yours.”

“No.” Jarvan hissed through clenched teeth, “You wanted domination. I wanted peace. I’ve had enough of this- guards! Reprimand Ordinal Kayn and strip him of his weapons.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boys. You know full well what I am capable of.” He laughed wickedly as they stalked towards him, “You’re no match for the one who trained you.”

Kayn watched as they continued to advance forward, their weapons drawn, beginning to circle him as if he were an animal. And perhaps they were right. A primal urge to kill awakened within, one hand reaching up to draw the scythe sitting snugly against his back. Rhaast hungered for rendered flesh, something the ordinal was all too willing to provide.

“Oh, Rhaast.” He sang sweetly, “It’s time to play.”

“Yeeeess…”

A low rumbling shook the room; frantic eyes darting around the space in confusion and fear. Jarvan yelled over the commotion and readied his weapon, quickly closing the gap between himself and the Ordinal. There was no use in hiding Rhaast’s sentience now, and so he decided to embrace it.

Hearing the clanking of armor behind him, Kayn dropped low just in time to dodge the emperor's spear. He deftly kicked the royal’s feet from under him, watching as the bigger man stumbled to the floor, barely able to catch himself. As the soldiers began closing in all around, the Ordinal jumped back to his feet and raised Rhaast, swinging the neon blade in a wide arc. Those who blocked the attack were pushed back, those who didn’t had a nice new gash across their chest.

It was at this time that he noticed the crew of the Morningstar begin to act, Captain Yasuo unsheathing his blade, the crazy girl pulling out a plethora of guns. He sneered at them before turning his attention back to the fight.

One by one they got up and charged him again, only to be knocked back down into pools of their own blood. A few of them managed to get a few lucky hits in on the Ordinal, but those were nothing but minor scratches that healed up instantaneously due to the Ora running through his veins. He ducked under steel, weaving his way through the men with a grace so deadly they dropped like flies.

As he regained his footing he felt a presence appear beside him, a white blur rushing past. Thinned steel was brought down upon him, giving him mere seconds to react. After dodging the slash, flittering gold locked with the Captain’s hazel irises.

“Lookin’ a little tired there, Ordinal. Might wanna throw in the towel before it's too late.”

Annoyance bubbled within the Ordinal and the Captain smirked, unleashing a flurry of blows before Shieda could put some distance between them. He managed to deflect most of the attacks, however, a well placed strike caught him off guard and he staggered back.

“RAAAAH!”

Kayn’s head shot towards the thundering stomps as Malphite dashed toward him. He cursed under his breath, diving out of the alien’s path. Before he could recover the barrel of a gun was shoved in his face. Looking up he saw the crazy girl tightening her grip around the pistol, an apologetic looking grin on her face as she pulled the trigger.

The Ordinal swiftly evaded the shot, shooting his hand up to grab her wrist. With a tug and a twist she grunted in pain, the gun falling from her fingers. Using his weight he yanked her down, jumping up and spinning around to drive the butt of the scythe hard between her shoulder blades.

“Oh just kill her already!”

Kayn raised Rhaast and readied to strike the ginger and end her pathetic existence.

Seeing his crewmate’s peril, Yasuo maneuvered himself toward the Ordinal and set forth a wall of cyan energy, forcing the man to back off. Kayn ended up being pushed back into a precarious position, yet again surrounded on all sides. He was feeling sluggish, exhaustion starting to lock his limbs into place. He panted heavily, blood and Ora spattered across his uniform. His hair had been cut loose and hung disheveled over his face.

He waited until the foot soldiers pounced before emitting an animalistic snarl and hoisted Rhaast, heavy in his hands, up and tore through his former compatriots. Rhaast reveled in the bloodshed, and for a time Kayn did too, that is, until he saw the faces of his more recognizable men staring in disbelief as their own Ordinal raised his hand against them.

He shook his head, he shouldn’t be thinking of this now, they decided to get in his way so they are to face the consequences. And yet his memories of his time with these soldiers flooded his mind. Images of his senior disciples goofing around during training, taunting their master as they sparred, enjoying the merriment of bonded brothers.

The thought made him hesitate.

Rhaast noticed immediately, “What are you doing, fool!?”

But it was too late, Kayn felt a ripping sensation in his side as Jarvan drove his spear into his flesh. The Ordinal shrieked in pain, twisting partly around and jamming the butt of the scythe against the other’s clavicle. A delightful crunch emitted after it impacted the royal’s body, yet the other stood firm, instead gritting his teeth and leaning all his weight on the Ordinal, driving the spear further in.

“N-No!” He gasped, the searing throb caused one of Kayn’s arms to lose its grip on Rhaast, the weapon clanging against the tile as his now emptied hand came up to try and push Jarvan's off.

Captain Yasuo had strode forward and plunged his blade through the Ordinal’s thigh, rooting him in place, another soldier piercing his other calf. Golden speckled sanguine spilled from his mouth as he watched the soldiers take advantage of this moment of vulnerability. One sprinted forward and slammed his boot against Kayn’s hand, breaking some fingers and knocking Rhaast completely to the floor before they all forced him onto his knees. The others surrounded him, guns aimed directly at his head.

The dark star howled in fury, reverberating on the cold tile as Malphite callously swatted him away from the Ordinal's reach.

Kayn thrashed around as much as he could but the steel only cut further into his skin, drawing more blood which drained his energy further. He was starting to become lightheaded, his breathing becoming ragged and labored, lungs struggling for purchase from the pain.

“Let me go! I’m not done- I’m not-” Fear overtook him as he continued to strain against the emperor's hold, Ora streaming from his eyes and down his cheeks.

“Shieda.” Jarvan pleaded against his ear, “It’s over. It can’t control you anymore-”

“Unhand me! Only I can handle the power that thing wields-!” Kayn protested, his voice shaky as he choked back reddened sobs.

“That thing has killed many of our own and has brainwashed you!”

“No!” Kayn screeched, “With the voice of Ora we can become unstoppable! Finally the Empire will have the strength to carry out what it’s always dreamed of-”

“Listen to yourself Shieda!” Jarvan cut him off, desperation evident in his tone, “It has blinded you with delusions of grandeur- the Empire doesn't need that power, you don’t need that power.”

The emperor freed one of his arms and slowly wrapped it around his old friend, pulling Kayn’s back flush against his chest. “Please… It’s over…”

When a man dies, it all but fades to black. But when someone like him succumbs to fate, why does he see gold? It’s dull, unimpressive and looks worthless, but it’s gold none the less. The excess Ora pulsating through his veins- he watches as it trickles down his skin from open wounds. All that hard work was wasting away, all those souls he’d collected scattering back to the earth. Rhaast had even gone quiet, stewing in his own frustration for having entrusted his life to such a feeble mortal.

“Why did you stop me?” He asks, voice low and raspy. He began to shake, the Ora withdrawing from his system so quickly he body couldn’t keep up. He leaned his head back against Jarvan’s shoulder, lolling his head slightly to look into his eyes. His injuries were numb, head dizzy and vision unfocused. “I finally had the strength to give you everything.”

“Shieda…” The royal’s face twisted in pain, “The day you became Ordinal and stood at my side- that was when I realized I did not need anything more.”

Kayn’s body went slack at his words. The soldiers backed off and watched as their emperor cradled their Ordinal in his arms, slowly removing the spear protruding through his flesh.

“You will live, Shieda,” Jarvan demanded, “We will destroy that scythe and you will live. We will make the Empire prosper through our own means, not that of monsters.”

Live. Prosper. No, not any longer. He had thrown all that away in the pursuit of power, and now he lays incapacitated before his men who have lost all respect for him. Everything he had worked for, his station, his pride, gone in the blink of an eye. It was a risk he took and it backfired. Surely Rhaast blamed him for being unable to fulfill his side of the deal, and surely his emperor held some resentment for his actions. His plans were put to a stop before they ever truly began- how humiliating.

“Live.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue, “And what could I possibly live for now?” His words were hollow, devoid of fire.

Jarvan stayed silent for a moment, hands pressing hard against the gaping wounds in the other’s side. “We will find a reason together, but for now, live for me.”

All the Ordinal could do was scoff before his vision became spotty and he was forced to shut his eyes. The sounds of shuffling feet filled the room as soldiers filtered in and out, medics being called and special units moving to carefully collect the cosmic weapon. At some point he was removed from the emperor's warmth and onto a stretcher, but his body shut down before he could comprehend any more.

His vision faded to black, but it was not the reaper he saw on the other end. No, He was still so stubbornly alive, denied the sweet release of death and forced to live among his sins. He didn’t want that, and yet when an angel bathed in light extended their hand towards him, he foolishly took it.

When their hands touched, his eyes fluttered open and he was greeted by a blindingly white room. He felt a hand clasped over his own, a welcomed warmth contrasting heavily from the plethora of frigid needles piercing his skin, syphoning out the extra Ora in his body.

A muffled voice spoke beside him, although he was unsure if it was addressing him or not. Blurry shapes passed his view, coming closer for a moment before disappearing again. As his eyes adjusted to the light, a figure came into his line of sight, Jarvan, who sat loyally at his bedside with a gentle smile.

“Shieda.” The other said his name so sweetly, so full of relief that his heart throbbed, “Good morning.”

The Ordinal exhaled slowly, careful not to aggravate any of his wounds and reached a bandaged hand up before resting it against Jarvan’s cheek. No more words were said, just tired eyes coming to a silent understanding. He might never be granted the title of Ordinal ever again, but knowing Jarvan's generosity he still may be permitted to advise on the sidelines. Even so, he wouldn’t be permitted to do that so soon.

It would take time to heal, and probably months of therapy and reflection, but it would happen. Slowly but surely it would happen, and as his emperor demanded, he would live. No matter how much he struggled and protested, he would live.

[hoonieistrash]

astilbe

pairing: persephone! jimin x hades! reader 

word count: 8k 

genre: FLUFF, a bit of angst

tags: jungkook has a crush on the reader so angst for kookoo :(, soft fluff, flowers, female pronouns, not like the tale where hades took or kidnapped persephone, you are an awkward bean, jimin is a softie for you :(

synopsis: Whoever said the god of the underworld was a man? No, no. You were a goddess, the goddess that your brother trapped in the land of the dead. Jimin was the complete opposite of you, the god of spring and the son of Demeter. He only heard about you through his mother and the other gods and goddesses and he was mad, they really did not give any justice to your beauty, not one bit.

alternative synopsis: Jimin was in awe with you and being the curious thing he is, decided to follow you to the Underworld. 

author’s note: It’s 5 AM when I finished this :)) THS IS MY FIRST LONG FIC I PUBLISHED SO YEAH ALSO, this is unedited and English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry :// I just love persephone and hades :( JIMIN IS A CUTIE and IM SORRY KOOKIE :(( aNYWAYS! I hope you enjoy this!

You sighed in your throne made of cold hard steel inside your dark throne-room, waiting for any mortal that committed a crime so bad that you, the goddess of the underworld, have to judge for yourself. You were dressed in a black robe as black soft silk flowed behind you while fine jewelry adorned you to match your status of Queen of the Underworld and Goddess of Death. A black crown sat on your head elegantly.

The atmosphere was like any other day in the Underworld, melancholy and the stench of death filling the air. You looked at your side as you see your loyal companion, Cerberus, sleeping in the dark corner. The poor pup was bored, nothing to do but sleep, eat and scare mortals.

“Mistress!” You heard the echo of your friend’s voice in the halls before even entering your throne room. Your cold eyes turned to the main entrance, expression hard and unreadable. 

With a bang of the heavy steel door, scaring and waking up Cerberus, in came your friend and servant, but you did not like calling him that but the latter did not care, dare to say that he even liked it, that little masochist. The mortals called him Thanatos but you liked his real name better, Jungkook. You like calling him Kookie, his bashful expression always amusing you greatly. 

The young daemon entered with all of his glory, two large magnificent black wings perched on his back as his black robe fluttering below his knees. Big doe eyes staring at you, a large smile on his lips, confusing you. Normally, Jungkook did not like showing these emotions, too stubborn, saying that he was a daemon and did not exhibit such feelings. 

He ran towards you making Cerberus perked up, his three head looking at the winged spirit. Jungkook looked at him and searched in his bag, throwing a lump of large meat towards the huge canine. The three heads fought each other for the meat on the side as Jungkook stopped in front of you, kneeling in one knee. 

“What’s all the fuss about, Jungkook?” 

He merely smiled and searched again in his bag, giving a scroll to his mistress, “Hermes gave this to me” 

You arched a fine brow at him, taking the scroll from him and read it. Eyebrows furrowing at every word you read but Jungkook did not notice, blabbering in front of you.

“–He just gave it to me and left, I think that Zeus is finally agreeing to let us expand our land, Mistress! It would be-” 

The loud noise of the paper being torn echoed in the quiet room, Jungkook’s wide eyes stared at his furious Mistress and frowned. 

“I-It’s not an agreement, is it?…” He asked quietly, a lump forming in his throat when he saw you stand up, eyes colder and deadlier than the River Styx. 

“That fool! If he thinks that he can keep me locked in here then he’s greatly mistaken! I’ll destroy him!” You screamed, black flames bursting around you startling Jungkook and Cerberus. The former looked at you with scared eyes, “M-Mistress…” 

You turned to him, eyes filled with fury but it softened when you saw his scared eyes, your black flames calmed down. You sat again, defeated by your younger brother. 

Jungkook bit his lips at the sight of you, hating the way you slumped in your throne. You always wore yourself as a dignified and noble character, exuding an ethereal beauty, not like the mortals described you, but this sight made Jungkook want to tear Zeus himself.

He could not help but fall for you in these past few thousands of years, you always helped people and brought justice to the fallen ones but Zeus trapped you here in the Underworld, only being permitted to go to Earth every 300 years and it was only for a day. 

“Leave me, Jungkook” Your weakened voice broke him. He rose up from his knelt position and looked at you with anguished

“B-But Mistress! I can help you! Please don’t shut me out–” 

“I said, leave me. Do not make me repeat it thrice.” Your firm voice cut him off. He swallowed the lump on his throat and nodded, hanging his head in defeat. 

“O-Of course, Mistress.” 

Jungkook went out of the room, the heavy doors closing behind him and left you alone with Cerberus who was whimpering on the side. 

Cerberus walked up to you slowly, his whimpers catching your attention as you turned to him with sad eyes. He slumped his three heads on your lap, your soft hands caressing one of the heads. 

“If my little brother really thinks he can keep me here then I’ll make him realize just how much I belong here after all” 

Jimin sat in a great meadow filled with flowers, picking pretty ones with a gentle smile as his soft blond hair fluttered with the wind. He hummed a soft tune, matching the serene atmosphere around him. He was a young god, son of Demeter and Zeus, some mortals called him Persephone while his mother called him Kore. He always hated the name his mother called him. Demeter always wanted a daughter but her dreams were shattered when Jimin came. 

Demeter raised him like a daughter, bringing him pretty robes and jewelry fit for a goddess. He liked them actually but the fact that his mother brought it for her daughter and not him hurt. 

His smile faltered when he remembered his mother but quickly masked it and continued to distract himself with the flowers, one hand clutching softly a bouquet of it while one caressed the planted ones. 

“Jiminie~” A deep voice called out, his smile widened at the familiarity of it. He looked up and saw his best friend, Hermes, but his real name was Taehyung. 

“Taehyung! Nice of you to accompany me this fine afternoon~” Jimin chirped, standing up gently, Taehyung landed in front of him a bit clumsily with his winged shoes, his golden winged staff swinging around almost hitting Jimin in the face. 

“Woah there. Easy with that thing” Jimin teased, pushing it away before it hit his face. Taehyung smiled sheepishly at him before composing himself, blowing an icy blue hair away from his bronzed face

“How’s my favorite god doing?” Taehyung asked, looking at Jimin’s hand which held a beautiful arrangement of flowers and his messy golden hair with small flowers attached to it. 

Jimin’s soft blue eyes rolled at him, shaking his head at the mischievousness of his best friend. 

“Flower picking, as usual, Taehyung” And then went back to his flowers. Taehyung smiled sadly at his words and sat beside him. 

“You know your mother is just protective, that is all” The young messenger tried to cheer up. Jimin smiled at him weakly, “I know Tae… I know…” 

The taller god frowned at his smile then pursed his lips. Thinking for a moment as he studied the young god, then stood up, dusting his white immaculate robe. Jimin stared at him with confusion at the sudden action, “You’re going already?” 

Taehyung smirked at him and said, “You mean, we’re going already.” 

Jimin gaped at him, he knows that Taehyung was mischievous and was always up to tricks and pranks but he did not think that it was to this extent.

“M-Mother will have your head if she found out you took me away from here” 

“If she finds out~”

The young god shook his head, not wanting Taehyung to get in problem with his mother. He was the only companion he has and he does not want him to go away too, forbidden by his mother. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes at his friend, “Come on Jimin! The quicker you get up, the quicker we can get back” 

Jimin gulped at that, looking around the meadow which he only knew since he was but a young sapling. He looked up again to his nodding best friend who was urging him to stand up. 

“F-Fine… Only if we get back before mother gets back!” 

Taehyung smirked at that, “You’re talking to the fastest god, darlin’~” 

Jimin stifled a laugh at his words and stood up. Taehyung waved his staff and in a blink of an eye, they were gone. The young god looked around at the new meadow they were in and behind them was a forest. Jimin admired the landscape, it was certainly different from the meadow he knows, it was vibrant with more color and it has a forest next to it. 

Taehyung looked at Jimin with a nervous smile, “You like it? We can go somewhere else if you want–” 

“No! This is perfect! It’s so pretty, Taehyung… Thank you” Jimin uttered out. Taehyung smiled at him, his best friend was too kind and too easy to impress that it hurts his sly heart.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do what you want to do, Jiminie~” 

Jimin grinned at him and jogged to the meadow, sitting down at the softer grass, caressing the more vibrant flowers and flowers he only knew from the scrolls his mother has. He was eager to know more about them, picking the flowers unfamiliar to him, humming once again but more cheerful this time. 

Taehyung smiled softly at his preoccupied friend, he was about to sit down beside the blond god when he heard the bell that alerts him when Zeus wants him to deliver something. The blue-haired god groaned at it catching Jimin’s attention who looked up at him with big eyes. 

“Sorry, Jiminie. I have to go somewhere real quick. I’ll be back before you know it! Don’t go anywhere!” Taehyung said and flew off before Jimin can even say anything. The young god was left alone in the middle of nowhere as he blinks, not believing that his best friend just left him. 

He sighed at that and shook his head, telling himself that Taehyung will be back shortly and that he doesn’t need to worry. He went back to picking the flowers. But then Jimin’s eyes caught a movement in the dark forest, he looks up and his breath was caught in his throat, he stood up, trying to get a closer look at the beauty.

Going in the forest was the Goddess of Underworld in all of your glory, silk robes and fine jewelry adorned your body but it was not as fine as your beauty. Jimin never saw anyone so beautiful yet look so sad. Your long (h/c) hair fluttering behind you as a black crown was perched high in your head. Your lips were a luscious red, shaming any fully bloomed rose. But what caught Jimin’s attention the most was your eyes. He never saw anything so filled with melancholy but still looked so beautifully cold. Dull (e/c) eyes but how it shone when the light hit it, Jimin wanted to see it up close. 

You turned your head and locked eyes with the young god as he gasped but never removing his eyes away from yours. Your eyes widen ever so slightly at him, you never saw this young god all your life. Another child of Zeus, you presume, and with the thought of your younger brother, you scowled. Unintentionally, at Jimin, but the young god thought it was for him. He shrinks at the intensity of the scowl with it’s matching cold glare. 

Your eyes softened when you saw him back away from you, your eyes turned sad once again before turning away and towards the forest to go to the underworld, back to your own personal prison. 

Jimin saw you go away as he panicked, wanting to follow you but stopped when he remembered Taehyung and his mother. He bit his lip, contemplating whether he should follow you or not, but any thought vanished when he saw you get further in the forest, almost disappearing from his sight. He quickly followed you, the bouquet of flowers still in his hands. 

You scowled as you stalked away to the entrance of your prison, going in the dark entryway, your robes fluttering behind you. Jimin saw you go into the hole, the scary and dark entrance gave him the frights but also thrill, never experiencing something like this. 

He followed you without you noticing as he looked around the different and dark land, all he saw was in ruin as an inky black river flowed beside him. In the further distance, he saw a dark castle standing majestically. Inside the inky waters, he thought he saw faces, groaning in misery. When he saw it, he followed you, scared out of his wits.

You quickened your strut when you saw Charon in his boat, his dark hood hiding his face as his bony hand grasped his ore. 

You stepped in his large boat, sitting on the seats, giving him a golden coin. Charon chuckled, raspy as if he never used it in a thousand years.

“My apologies, Mistress, but I think you owe me than just one gold coin.” He said. You were confused, looking at him with a puzzled look. 

“What? What are you talking about, Charon.” You stated, not in any mood to joke around. 

“There’s two of you in the boat, Mistress” 

You whipped your head back and locked eyes with the same soft blue eyes you saw earlier. You furrowed your brows at that, frowning at him.

“What are you doing here, little god? You don’t belong here. Go back.” You ordered in a cold voice making him flinch but he did not move an inch.

“M-My name is Jimin, not little god. A-And I won’t go back. I just want to explore…” 

You looked at him, bewildered, you did not just hear him say that. Who does this little god think he is. 

“Explore? If you want to explore then go back. You do not want to explore the Underworld unless you want to die, little god.”

Jimin looked at you with wide eyes, “Underworld? This is the underworld?” He asked with surprise

Your fine brows arched, annoyed, “Yes, now go back.” 

Jimin pouted at you, not fazed by your coldness, already getting used to it. 

“Can’t you take me with you? Just for a bit…” 

You run a hand to your face, stressed. Jimin bit his lip, “It’s just… My mother doesn’t let me go anywhere… It is my first time going out…” 

You removed your hand away from your face, looking at his sad expression. Your once unbeating heart started to pump uncharacteristically. You sighed, defeat by those doe eyes. 

“Fine.” You grumbled out as Jimin grinned at you, excitedly. You dug into your robe to get another coin and gave it Charon who watched the scene with amusement. 

“Now, start rowing.” You ordered, Charon nodding and moved his giant ore. 

Jimin cheered quietly as the boat moved. He studied the place with his soft blue eyes as his blond hair waving a bit.

You looked at him in the corner of your eyes and rolled your eyes at your decision. 

‘I’m going to regret this…’ You thought, letting out a small sigh.

“What’s this?” You heard Jimin asked. You looked back nonchalantly but almost had a heart attack when you saw his hand reaching out for the black inky waters of the River Styx. You grabbed his hand in alarm, “Don’t touch that! You want to poison yourself?” 

Jimin did not hear you though, he was too focused on your linked hands. Your cold hands grabbing his warm ones gently, making his heart flutter as he blushed, unfamiliar with any skin contact with others beside Taehyung and his mother. You followed his eyes and saw your hands together, you let go of his in embarrassment. You turned your head forward, once again, hiding your growing blush. 

“Don’t touch anything, do you understand.” You said, feeling him nod behind you. Jimin frowned, already missing your cold touch. Your touch was very distinct, the only one who’s touch was cold but Jimin liked it.

“O-Okay, I understand” 

Charon smiled a bit under his hood, his Mistress was acting so differently that it was amusing. The Goddess of Death and Queen of the Underworld disarmed by a young unknown god. 

The boat ride was mostly filled with an awkward silence as it was accompanied by Jimin’s soft humming. The boat stopped in front of the castle as you got off of it with Jimin following clumsily after you. 

“Mistress! You’re back!” You heard Jungkook’s voice from the castle as your eyes widen, how on earth are you going to explain to the daemon your unexpected companion. Jungkook was known for his unrivaled loyalty to you and jealousy with your flings. 

Charon chuckled at your dilemma as he rowed away. Jimin looked at the hooded boatman as he heard his chuckle, tilting his head in confusion then turned back to you. 

The winged daemon arrived in front of you with a wide smile but it dropped when he saw the pretty young god. His dark brows furrowed with mixed emotions bubbling in him. 

“Who’s this?” His cold voice asked as you sighed, it was starting. Jimin smiled at him, nervously, and waved meekly. Jungkook scowled, disgusted by his innocence. 

“This is Jimin. He followed me on the way back here.” You said, walking away as Jungkook and Jimin followed you with the former looking at you with horrified eyes. 

“What do you mean, Mistress? He’s staying with us?” He asked making Jimin look at you.

“If he wants. Or if he wants to go back, then escort him out.” You said, looking at Jimin who stared at you with wide surprised eyes. 

“He wants to go back, I’m sure of it!” Jungkook exclaimed, looking at Jimin with a hard glare, daring him to oppose his words. Jimin smiled apologetically at Jungkook as the winged male deflated at that.

“I-If you permit, I would like to stay for a bit” Jimin whispered out, you turned back to him, studying him with enigmatic (e/c) eyes. You nodded and continued your way.

“M-Mistress, b-but–” 

“Ready a room for him, Kookie.” And with that, you disappeared into the dark. Jungkook’s wings fell at your words as he frowned, dejected. 

He sighed and tried to suck it up, reminding himself that this newcomer will be out of his feathers in no time. Oh, how wrong he was.

It has been a week and Jimin was still in the Underworld, putting his flowers around the dark and gloomy palace. Jungkook did not want to admit it but Jimin was some nice company, he was pure and innocent and Jungkook likes teasing him and teaching him new ways. 

They were sitting at the back of the palace, at the courtyard with Jimin making flowers appear in the slowly coming into life grass and plants. Jungkook watched his new friend companion in awe, not really used to flowers in the Underworld. 

“How do you do that?” Jungkook asked him, Jimin smiled and sat beside the winged daemon. 

“I’m the god of spring, silly~” He chirped, his pureness out of place in the Underworld. 

 “Hmm, right. You’re Demeter’s son” Jungkook boredly said, looking nonchalant now. Jimin shook his head at him, his smile never faltering. 

He bit his lips, contemplating whether he should ask his question or not. He looked at Jungkook who brushed his black wings gently. 

“Hey, Jungkook… Can you tell me something about, (Y/n)?” He asked making Jungkook stop his brushing and turned his eyes to Jimin. He raised a brow, “Why?” 

He blushed a bit and stuttered out, “N-Nothing! Just curious” 

Jungkook peered into him, untrustingly, but sighed and nodded. He pursed his lips, thinking about what to say. 

“Well, Mistress is the Goddess of the Underworld–” 

“I already knew that.”

“Shh, do you want to know or not?” 

Jimin rolled his eyes playfully at him as Jungkook continued, “She is the eldest daughter of Rhea and Cronus which makes her the older sister of Zeus and your mother.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen at the new information. Jungkook then looked at him with sad eyes, “Zeus, imprisoned Mistress in the Underworld and took the skies for himself. Mistress always thinks for the better and just not for her advantage. She believes in justice and fairness. It might not look like it but she’s really lonely and sad…” 

Jungkook finished with a quiet voice, Jimin looking at the castle with sorrow, he then looked at Jungkook. 

“She can’t get out of here? But I saw her before in the meadows” 

Jungkook sighed, “Zeus only permits her to a certain degree to where she can go and she can only roam freely every 300 years. Today is her 233 year, once it hit 300 again, she can go for a day around Earth.” 

Jimin nodded sadly at the information, looking back to the dark gloomy castle once again, ’you’re just like me then… Imprisoned and longing for freedom…’ 

Jimin stood in front of your chamber door with a handful of flowers in his hand, his heart beating a bit too fastly for his liking as sweat started to appear in his hands. 

“Okay, Jimin you can do this. You just have to give her the flowers.” He talked to himself and with a breath, he raised his hand ready to knock but never touching the door.

He groaned as he dropped his hand, looking at the flowers in his other hand. He sighed and looked at the door, imagining you he was talking to. 

“Hi, (Y/n)! Funny bumping into you–… No, no! I’m in front of her door, bumping into you? Really, Jimin?” He scolded himself as he tried again.

“Hi, (Y/n)! I grew some flowers in your courtyard and I wanted to give these to you–”

“Who are you talking to?” The same cold and smooth voice that made his heart flutter called out making him yelp as he turned around in surprise. 

You looked at him with the same eyes, shocked at his sudden yelp. Jimin then fixed his posture and cleared his throat. Smiling shyly at you, he started, “Hi, (Y/n)! I- Um… I grew some flowers in your courtyard, these are for you!” 

Shoving the flowers in your arms as he smiled nervously at you. You looked at the pretty flowers in your hands with a soft blush, never have really received flowers or any kind of gifts from men. 

“T-Thank you, they’re very beautiful, Jimin” You whispered, a smile appearing on your usually stone-cold face making Jimin gape at you. 

You raised a brow, “What?” 

Jimin gulped, “Y-You have a very beautiful smile…” 

Your blush worsens that you thought your head will explode from all the heat going to your face. Jimin bit his lips, smiling as he looked down at his shoes, feeling timid.

“Y-you have a very beautiful smile too…” Jimin heard as he whipped his head up at you. The sight was almost to endearing for his poor heart. 

You were blushing, a beautiful contrast to your (s/c) skin and black robes. Eyes, warmer than before and lips quirking up in a shy smile. 

He gulped and looked at the flowers, pointing at it. “I picked alstroemerias for friendship and daffodils for new beginnings,” Jimin said, as he removed the sad meaning of daffodils, something he knew he has when he saw you rejecting men and daemons alike. 

You looked at him, confused and looked at the flowers then back at the smiling blond. 

“Flowers have meanings?” 

Jimin gaped at you, thinking you might be joking but the unchanging expression on your face said otherwise. 

“Y-You’re not joking?” 

You shook your head, looking at him with confusion. What was the big deal with not knowing that flowers having meanings? You were the Goddess of the Death and the Queen of the Underworld, it was given that flowers and all nice things were out of your forte. 

Jimin grabbed your free cold hand in his making you gasped at the contact. He then dragged you, “W-What are you doing?! Unhand me!” 

“Shh! I’m going to show you something!” 

You shut your mouth at that, confused at the sudden confidence of the young god. You let him drag you to the courtyard which was different from what you remembered. Last time you were here, there was only darkness and filled with cold air. Ruins complementing the dried up plants. 

But now, it was vibrant. There was color other than black in the courtyard. It was also warmer than any part of the Underworld as you welcomed the warm air that nipped on your cold skin. 

Jimin smiled at you, “I retouched it, I hope you don’t mind” 

You looked around with a soft smile, “It’s pretty. Plants always die when I am the one trying… They hate me..” You replied making Jimin giggle

“No, they don’t” 

“You can speak to plants now, little god?” You teased as he pouts at you. 

“Don’t call me that! I’m taller than you.” 

“Barely.” 

Jimin whined at your words, you chuckle at him. He stopped, studying you. It was the first time he heard you chuckle. It was melodic, smooth, and pleasant to the ears. It was now official, it is Jimin’s favorite sound to hear. 

“So what do you want me to see, Jimin?” He snapped out of his thought and ohh-ed. 

“Oh yeah! Here, sit next to me” He said, patting the now vibrant grass beside him. You rolled your eyes, playfully, and sat down gently next to him. 

“Let’s start with the basic!” Jimin chirped

You looked at him, confused, but let him continue. With the wave of his hand, a rose appeared in the grass. 

“Roses means love and romance. Pink roses, though, means gratitude and joy while white roses mean purity and youthfulness but daisies also symbolize purity but it also means beauty and fertility” 

You looked at him with amusement, nodding at his words. Jimin took that as the cue to continue and with a smile, he brought another flower.

“Anemone symbolizes protection from evil and ill wishes” 

 Jimin’s flower lessons continued for an hour or so, none of them realizing the time as they enjoyed each other’s company. 

You laughed at the last flower Jimin showed you, “I never knew flowers could have such bad meanings. Petunias, I should give dozens of them to Zeus”

Jimin’s smile faltered at the mention of his father, this, however, did no go unnoticed to you. Looking at him with worry and you asked, “What’s wrong?”  

“I-I… You really do not know?” 

You raised a brow at that, “No… What is the matter, little god?” you asked softly, leaning closer to him.

“Zeus is my father…” You stared at him, studying Jimin, who fidgeted under your gaze. 

“You’re definitely more handsome than your father then. Zeus looks like an egg.” Your lighthearted response surprised Jimin. He thought when you knew, you’d surely kick him out and he’ll lose a friend, forever.

“Y-You are not mad?” 

You smiled at him, “Would you rather me be?” 

Jimin shook his head, quickly at your words making you giggle at his quick response. 

“You are not your father and you do not have any connection to our fight. Do not worry too much, little god” You said, your soft smile resting on your face. 

Jimin blinked his tears away, laughing with you. You looked at him and held his cheek gently, “Don’t cry, little god. I’m not mad” 

Jimin leaned his cheek to your hand, nuzzling to your cold touch. You looked at him with such softness that it made his heart hurt. His heart beating a bit too fastly, he was afraid that you might hear it. You leaned a bit closer, his breath hitching.

“(Y/n)…” He trailed as he also leaned closer, trying to meet you halfway. The cold brush of your lips made him shiver in desire. 

“Mistress!” Jungkook’s voice made you two jump away, blushing at the interruption. The winged daemon stopped at his tracks when he saw the blush on your faces. He raised a brow, “Was I interrupting something?” 

“No! no!” Jimin shook his head, a mad red covering his cheeks and ears. You cleared your throat as you stood up, dusting your silk robe. 

“What is it, Jungkook?” 

The urgency came back to Jungkook and exclaimed, “Zeus wants to talk to you!” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion, you nodded and strolled out the courtyard but not before bidding Jimin goodbye. 

“Thank you for your flower lesson, Jimin. It was greatly appreciated.” And with that you were gone, being followed by Jungkook who looked at Jimin with a small glare.

Jimin smiled a bit at your words and gazed lovingly at your retreating figure, sighing.

You entered Olympus with a stoic face, Jungkook following you. Zeus stood in the throne-room his strong back facing you. The tall man then turned to you with a large smile, “Ah! (Y/n), glad you can come!” He said to you, giving you a hug. You groaned at the strong grip your brother gave you. 

“Jin, please. Don’t.” 

Jin released you from the hug, his smile never faltering at your coldness, reminding you of someone… 

“Dear sister! Cheer up, today is a party! You are here–” 

“Stop it with this nonsense and just tell me what you need” You interrupted making Jin stop. 

He frowned at you, “Always the mood-killer, dear sister.” 

You glared at him, he shrugged as he went to the table to get more wine. You followed your brother, sighing, already tired. 

“You see, (Y/n). Demeter has gone crazy. She thinks that you kidnapped her dear son.” You furrowed your brows at his declaration and shook your head. 

“Jimin? Jimin followed me to the Underworld. He knows he can go back anytime but he doesn’t. It is not my fault.” You snapped, Jin sighed and nodded.

“I know but Demeter has gone crazy. She went and made Earth a frozen wasteland until Jimin is back in her arms” 

“Well, she should’ve been a better mother because Jimin doesn’t even want to go back to her with how much she hurt him.” You retorted. Jin looked at you with eyes you did not understand. 

“You have feelings for him,” He said with a small smile. You gaped at the declaration, sputtering out words.

“T-That’s absurd! No, I do not!” 

Jin smiled but sighed after, remembering Demeter’s words, “Still, though (Y/n). Jimin has to go back. Can you tell him that?” 

You looked at Jin with a cold look on your face then sighed, “I’ll tell him”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask, (Y/n)” Jin uttered with a gentle smile.

Jimin hummed at the huge throne room as he arranged the flower in a small vase, waiting for you to come back with a bright smile. He heard Cerberus whimper on his side, nudging him with one of his head. Jimin looked down at the canine with a smile, “What’s wrong, buddy? Hungry?” 

Cerberus perked up when he heard the word, hungry, his tail wagging behind his huge body. Jimin giggled at him and started to walk to the door, “Come on, boy. Let’s get you something to eat~” 

Cerberus followed the god, padding its way to him. Jimin went out of the throne room with the dog as they walked towards the kitchen. Jimin searched for any meat in the storage and with an exclaim of victory, he got out a huge piece of meat.

“Cerb! Here you go, boy!” He threw the meat to the dog as he happily caught it, the three heads fighting as usual to take a bite of the meat. Jimin chuckled at the canine, shaking his head. He was about to go out of the kitchen when he saw the open glass door, leading to a garden. He tilted his head at that, not remembering any garden other than the courtyard he redesigned. With a smile, he went out of the kitchen and to the open glass door. 

Cerberus stopped chewing at the meat and observed Jimin, he quickly followed the male to the garden, finishing the meat. Jimin looked around the dried-up garden with a tsk.

“I got work caught up on me.” He muttered with a smile. He was about to get some flowers when he saw a lone tree at the corner of the garden. Jimin walked closer to the huge tree and saw that it has bear some fruits, with a smile he picked on. He never really ate food in the Underworld, Jungkook always brought him his food and it made him curious. Is the food in the Underworld that bad?

He opened the fruit that he recognizes as pomegranate and smelled the sweet scent. Jimin smiled eagerly and ate some, the burst of the sweetness made him crave for more. After eating three the first time, he got out three more and popped it in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste. 

Cerberus whimpered at him making Jimin look at him as he swallowed the sweet juice. He raised a brow at the dog, “What? It’s really sweet, Cerb!” 

He was about to eat some more when Jungkook entered the garden and with a gasp, he flew towards him and smacked the fruit away from Jimin. 

Jimin whined at that, “Hey! I was eating that!” 

Jungkook gaped, “How many did you eat?!” 

The young god tilted his head, “I don’t know… Maybe six?” 

“You can’t eat food in the Underworld!” 

“Why not?!” 

“Because once you eat something that belongs to the Underworld, you cannot leave this place.” You said, looking at Jimin in disbelief. 

Jimin turned to you, surprised at your sudden appearance. Jungkook groaned at the stupidity of the young god. 

“Mistress! Did you not tell him beforehand?” 

You shook your head, stressed. You groaned at the problem at hand. Jimin looked at the fallen pomegranate but he did not feel sad. He knows he should feel sad but he did not. Jimin was willing to stay if it means he can be with you.

“I-I… I do not mind staying here…” He said with a blush making you and Jungkook look at him with disbelief

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly

Jimin was about to answer but looked at Jungkook who was glaring daggers at him and quickly shut his mouth. You sighed at the daemon and turned to Jungkook. 

“Kookie, walk Cerberus out, will you.” 

Jungkook looked at you, “B-But Mistress!” 

“Please.” 

Jungkook stopped, looking at your pleading face then looked at Jimin. It hurts Jungkook but he knows. He understands… He knows that you like the young god and not him, no matter how much he loves you, your heart already belongs to another. It did not matter that Jungkook knew you for eons and eons while Jimin knew you for a week, you will still pick the latter. 

Jungkook tried to blink his tears away and nodded stiffly, “Of course, Mistress.” He and Cerberus walked out of the garden, leaving you and Jimin alone. You looked at Jimin with a soft smile 

“What is it? What did you want to say, little god?” Jimin chuckled a bit at the nickname, feeling more nervous as you were both alone now.

“I… I do not mind staying here… because..” 

Your heart started to beat faster, heat going to your face. Your eyes begging him to continue.

“Because I love you (Y/n)… That’s why I do not mind one bit.” Jimin confessed, a serene smile on his face, hiding his nervousness at the moment. 

You started to smile at him but when you remembered Zeus’s words, your smile weakened. 

“Y-You can’t stay here, Jimin” You muttered

Jimin walked closer to you in nervousness, holding your hands in his as it trembled, showing his nervousness. 

“Do… Do you not return my feelings?” He asked with a sad smile. You looked at him and shook your head.

“Oh, gods no! I absolutely return your feelings, Jimin” He beamed at your words

“But you have to go back…” You added, watching his face fall 

“But why?” 

“Your mother turned Earth into a frozen wasteland… The mortals are starving and dying until you return to her…” You finally said

Jimin shook his head, “No, my mother is not that cruel” 

You held his cheek with a soft frown, “It is what Zeus told me and mortals are starting to multiple nowadays in the Underworld meaning that they’re rapidly dying, love…” 

Jimin looked at the ground, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He then touched your hand with his warm one. 

“I can talk to mother, I’ll tell her to stop this nonsense and I’ll return here, with you.” Jimin reasoned to you. You smiled but you know that Demeter will do anything to make something up to hinder Jimin’s return to you. 

“Of course, love.” 

Jimin shyly grinned at you, leaning closer that you can smell his breath. He smelled like the sweet pomegranate he ate earlier. 

“I like it when you call me love…” He whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours. Heat filled up your system, closing your eyes. Savoring his warmth.

Jimin bumped his nose against yours again and leaned closer, your lips brushing against each other like last time but the only difference today was that you finally kissed.

Jimin tasted so sweet, too sweet that it made you addicted now that you had a taste. The young god deepened the kiss, your minty and smoky scent making his head spin as your cold lips made him shiver. 

You licked his bottom lip for permission as Jimin whimpered at the soft contact, shyly opening his mouth. The burst of sweetness filing your system, feeling his wet appendage against yours in a sensual dance.

You broke the kiss, Jimin heaving at the passion and lack of breath. You smirked at him, looking at him. He was such a vision, with flustered cheeks and blown pupils as it was overcome with lust, lips were swollen and wet from your kiss. Jimin will be the death of you. 

You two stared at each other, love pouring out the two of you. Jimin leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he enjoyed your cold skin

“Mistress! Hermes is here!” You heard Jungkook called out from the garden’s entrance as the winged daemon gave you and Jimin privacy. The two of you moving away from each other a bit.

“Taehyung?” Jimin asked, looking at the door with wide eyes. You gazed at him, “You know him?” 

Jimin nodded, “He’s my best friend” 

Taehyung paced around the large dark throne room, his winged shoes fluttering at every step, showing his anxiousness. 

Jimin runs to the throne room, pushing the doors open with a pant as he ran all the way to the throne room. Taehyung looked up from the floor and to the door, locking eyes with Jimin. The blue-haired male let out a breath in relief, running towards him and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in! I looked everywhere for you! I told you to not go anywhere!” Taehyung scolded Jimin, still hugging him. The blue-haired god released Jimin who smiled sheepishly. 

“I’m fine, Taehyung!” Jimin said, chuckling at his friend’s worry.

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed, “I heard that Hades kidnapped you… Are you really okay?” 

Now it was Jimin’s turn to furrow his brows in confusion, “What? Kidnapped?”

“Yeah! Everyone has been talking about it!” 

“(Y/n) did not kidnap me! I followed her! It was my own decision…” Jimin said with a frown

“You followed Hades to the Underworld–!? Wait! Why are you calling her by her real name?” 

Jimin blushed, eyes and posture turning bashful. Taehyung’s eyes widened and shook his head in disbelief. 

“No… Jiminie no…” 

Jimin glared at his words, “What do you mean no?! You do not tell me what and what I can not do!” 

“Jimin, your mother has been searching for you everywhere, worried sick, while you’re here making up some sick romance?” 

“I love her, Taehyung!” 

Taehyung shut up, looking at him with sadness, “You can’t Jimin… You do not belong here… Demeter, your mother, is waiting for you…” 

Jimin’s eyes turned cold, “I love my mother, do not get me wrong. But I ate a pomegranate…” 

The blue-haired male hid his face in his hands, stressed at the sudden information. He looked at him, “Did Hades made you eat–” 

“No! I ate it on my own!” 

Taehyung sighed and muttered a sorry, “You have to talk to your mother, Jimin…” 

“I will.” 

Jimin and Taehyung talked about when he will go back to talk to Demeter as Taehyung went back to deliver the message to Demeter until he goes back for Jimin. The blue-haired male tired of the drama of the gods. He was really not paid enough for this, he wasn’t even paid!…

The blond god was in the courtyard with Jungkook who was oddly quiet. Jimin looked at the winged daemon, “What’s wrong, Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook looked at Jimin, tears brimming in big doe eyes, “Do you really want know?” 

Jimin frowned, nodding his head in worry. Jungkook sighed and wiped his tears, “I loved (Y/n) for eons Jimin…” 

The young god’s eyes widen at Jungkook’s confession. 

“I know that she won’t ever feel the same about me but it still hurts…” 

“Jungkookie, I’m sorr–” 

Jungkook stopped the blond before he can continue, “Don’t be sorry. It is not your fault. To be honest, I’m thankful she loves you and not some pesky daemon in the Underworld…” he chuckled lightly. Jimin gazed at him, still feeling bad. 

“Do not feel bad nor sad. It is not your fault. Even though, she does not love me… I will forever stay loyal to her because before I loved her, she was and will always be my friend.” Jungkook muttered. Jimin hugged him as Jungkook cried, the winged male couldn’t suppress the emotions any longer. All of the hidden feelings he hid for eons finally breaking free. Though he is sad, he also felt free. 

Jungkook looked at Jimin and smiled through his salty tears, “Please take care of her, she can be really clumsy and can say some hurtful words but please understand her. Be patient for she does not mean it” Jimin nodded, smiling at Jungkook as he wiped his tears.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings with me, Jungkook” 

“Thank you for listening” 

You looked at the vibrant pink flowers in your hand as you bit your lips in nervousness. Jimin then entered the throne-room making you hide the bouquet behind your back. The young god looked at you then at your hand that was behind your back with a teasing smile. He jogged towards you and leaned closer to you.

“Oho~ What’s this? Did you got me something?” 

You sighed, the surprise ruined. You slowly took your hand away and brought it to Jimin with a soft smile. The blond god’s eyes widened at the bouquet, tears welling up. He hugged you, slightly crushing the flowers between you two. He nuzzled at the crook of your neck, kissing the cold skin as he tasted his salty tears along with your skin. 

“The flowers are getting crushed, love”

“I do not care, I just want to hug you for now… Please” 

You slowly wrapped your arms around him as you felt his grip tightened around you. You smiled, caressing his soft hair.

Jimin looked at you with tears on his blue eyes and smiled lovingly at you, “I see that you have read further than our lesson” 

You smiled, proudly, “I am a goddess of surprises, love” Jimin giggled at your words

You held his cheek, caressing softly at his skin. Feeling and memorizing his features as you leaned, your noses bumping lovingly. 

“I’ll miss you, little god” 

“I’ll be back, you know.” 

“I know… I just.. Will miss you still” 

Jimin smirked at you, “You have gotten soft, Goddess of Death, Queen of the Underworld.” 

You playfully glared at him, pinching his nose a bit, “Do not test me, little god” 

Jimin whined at the pinch, caressing his nose with a pout. You chuckled at him and gestured the flowers that were still in your hands.

“Do you not want it?” Jimin rolled his eyes at your words with a smile

“Of course I do, love. You’re such a tease.” 

“You hang out with Jungkook too much, little god.” 

Jimin giggled, taking the flowers from your hands as he cradled it in his hands, smiling softly at it. 

“Jiminie, are you ready to go?” Taehyung called, Jimin’s escort to Demeter as he entered with Jungkook who was fuming behind him.

“Your wings are still ugly.” The daemon snapped

“Says the one with the large black wings.”

“Excuse you! At least my wings are attached to my body!”

“How dare you!” 

Jimin ran up to them, separating the two who looked like they were about to throw hands any minute.

“Okay! That’s enough!” 

You chuckled at the scene, finding it funny that a short god can make the two taller males stand down in a wave of his finger. 

“I’m sorry, Jiminie…”

“I ain’t saying sorry, Jimin. That foul god deserves it” 

“Why you-” 

You went to the three males and commanded, “Jungkook stop it. Come here.” 

Jungkook perked up and ran to your side with a raspberry blown to Taehyung. The latter glared at the daemon, wanting to strangle him.

“You best be going, love. Your mother’s been killing a lot of mortals. This place will be crowded if it does not stop” You said

Jimin raised a brow at your words, “You sound like you just want me out of here” 

You gasped, exaggerated, and placed a hand on your chest, “I have been found out” 

“You-!” 

You chuckled and kissed his cheek, “Come back to me, alright, little god” 

Jimin smiled at you, nodding, he was about to kiss you but heard the gagging noises from Taehyung. 

“You guys are gross. It’s not like you won’t see each other you know. If you have forgotten Jiminie, you’re stuck in here for 6 months and 6 months with your mother” Taehyung said, rolling his eyes

“I know, Taehyung. Thank you for reminding me” Jimin said sarcastically

“You’re welcome!” 

Jimin looked at You and Jungkook, “I’ll see you two in 6 months” 

Jungkook scoffed, “That’s too short if you ask me”

You slapped the back of his head with a glare, “I already said to stop it, did I not Jungkook?”

Jungkook pouted, “Yes Mistress”

Taehyung stuck his tongue at Jungkook, smirking at him. Jungkook growled, glaring intensely at the god. 

“Let’s go, Jiminie~” 

Jimin made amends with Demeter when he went back, explaining everything to her. Demeter brought spring back with Jimin’s help. That is why the Earth has cold and warm seasons, it is when Jimin came and gone away from his mother. When he is with his mother, the seasons turned warm and flowers grew everywhere. When he is with his love, Demeter turned the earth cold, missing his son dearly. 

Jimin stared at the vase of flowers you got him, smiling at the bouquet of astilbe. The vibrant pink making his heart flutter as he waits until he can come back to his love. 

“I will be waiting for you.”

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 1 of 21

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DARING DO and the

ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck) @ask-de-writer​

And

Carmen Pondiego @askcarmenpondiego​

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 08/26/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images. 

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

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Daring Do was sitting at the bar of the Adventurer’s Guild, sipping her coconut milk and pineapple juice.  She was still steaming about the Royal Museum’s Acquisition Committee trying to put her last find, the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock, through “the routine process.”  

The routine process gave them the possession of the neckalce for over a year before she could see any return on the difficult, expensive, and dangerous expedition to obtain the priceless artifact.

Her recovery of it from Count Umber had involved a physical altercation.  The memory made her sweet drink taste sour.

Glancing into the back bar mirror, she casually placed a hoof on her pith helmet.  A business suited pony approached her, proffering a card.  Instead of taking the card, Daring Do swiftly lifted her pith helmet.  A knife, aimed at the suited pony stood quivering in her hat, sunk deep into the cork.

She pulled the knife out and flipped it casually back.  The thump of it striking hilt first was followed by the collapse of the silken robed pony who had thrown it.

She turned toward the shaken business suited pony who had just paled three shades of yellow green lighter.  Brightly, she said, “Well, that was a few moments of rollicking fun!  What do you have for me?”

With a shaking hoof, he proffered a card.  “Please call us at your earliest convenience. If you wish, I can take you to the appointment."

Daring Do raised an eyebrow. “Appointment?  You would make an appointment without asking me?  A bit arrogant, aren’t you?  I have some personal business to take care of first.  I will call later, after it is done.”  She turned her back and pointedly resumed her drink.

It tasted better, for some reason.

She sat at the bar until she was sure that he was gone, sipping her drink, the case with the Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock safely in her saddlebag.  Daring Do hated what she had to do next.

She and her mother, Carmen Pondiego, master thief and head of V.I.L.E., did not see eye to eye on ANYTHING.  However, her mom’s advice was the best that she was going to find.  Daring Do steeled herself and pulled out her magic net mirror.  She tapped the code that she could not forget and hated.

The glass shimmered before a dark, redheaded figure with a gleaming grin answered the call. “City Morgue, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em. Oooh! Look who is finally dropping a line.”

Answering in a gritty voice, Daring Do spoke low. “Uncle M, I’m trying to get a hold of-” “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t go ruffling your feathers. Hey Red! Yer kid is on the line!”

Daring rolled her eyes as the view shakily changed to the beaming visage of a khaki colored unicorn mare dressed in red, her pale green eyes throwing a piercing glance at Daring Do. “Adora!! I am so glad you called! How was your trip? I hope you haven’t come across too much trouble. You know I will send some agents to help you if you ever need it.”

Daring Do rubbed her brow, “Mother, you know I hate that name, and no I don’t need your lawless agents. I… I just need some advice.”

A soft chuckle arose, “Of course, Daring dear. Now what seems to be the trouble?” Carmen lifted her brows as she calmly smiled, and the young pegasus held back a scoff. The thief seemed too friendly and eager to help, but why?

“Listen, its not trouble, I just want your -honest- opinion.”

Carmen pouted playfully, “My dear, you wound me, I have always been truthful to you.”

Sourly, Daring Do replied, “I do know that, Mother.  That is the only reason that I am calling you now.

“The expedition went well.  I even got the legendary Golden Necklace of Pharow Underrock.  The assorted traps didn’t even cause much damage to the Pyramid of Keychops.

“The Royal University would not and will not underwrite the expedition but they want me to DONATE the necklace.  They even threatened my tenure in the Chair of Antiquities to get it for free.  The Royal Museum was almost worse.”

The face of Carmen in the mirror nearly lost it with hilarity.  “The Royal Museum!?  It takes over a year to sell them a glass bead!  Then they will try to push you into letting it go for less than half of your price!”

Resisting a twitch in her eye, Daring Do cleared her throat, “Listen, Ma, what… Would you LEGALLY do if you didn’t get paid for a job that you did over a year ago?”

The thief took a moment to think. “Do you really want to go through the whole legal mess of suing said offender? Of course it would make it easier if you actually had a written contract.

“Heavens knows you don’t use the office here that I gave you and you bounce around from location to location so often without a home base so I don’t have any idea where you would keep such a document anyway…”

Daring’s grip on the mirror tightened. “Mother… I DO have an office.  It is in the Royal University!  I am the Chair of Antiquities!”

“Right.  Well, I would collect whatever you agreed on selling and take it elsewhere.. Are you needing my help with that?”

Daring Do’s grip on the mirror tightened even more. “Mother … Mother.  I have already taken it back!  I also know that V.I.L.E. makes a ton of money on the, um, resale of assorted goods.”

Dryly, Carmen pointed out, “In spite of our REPUTATION, we have NEVER been caught doing or been convicted of ANY CRIME.”  Her face twisted to a cheerfully sideways smile as she added, “Give me a few moments to check our inventory of PERFECTLY LEGAL buyers.”

Instead of “hold music” the recorded image of her uncle Marehem's blue furred, orange maned visage appeared giving the commercial message, “Allstable Insurance, You are in good hooves with Allstable!  Please feel free to inquire about our customized policies and truly reasonable rates!”

Daring Do’s teeth grinding together would have been sweet music to any dentist!

Carmen’s cheerful face came back to the mirror in time to save it from being tossed across the room!

One eyebrow raised in amusement, she poked, “Adora, my sweet.  I COULD move the necklace for you. V.I.L.E. does have to be paid for their efforts, of course.  How does 20 percent sound?  I am only offering such a good rate because you are family, no matter that SOMEPONY managed totally destroy all records of her connection to her MOTHER.”

Carmen grinned as Daring Do’s teeth ground together again.  Regaining her control, she asked her mother, “Oh, another thing. Do you know anything about the ROT law offices? They offered a card, I think they want me to find something for them.”

Silence came over the mirror.

“Mom?”

Carmen sighed, “Daring, if being an outlaw taught me anything, its presentation. If you are shady, you pick a shady name for intimidation, for greater intimidation one would use a completely harmless and cheerful name, though that is rare.

“I don’t know much of them but if their name means anything, I would use extreme caution if dealing with them. It could be a bluff or it could simply be an acronym, it could mean that they are rotten to the bone. Are you sure you don’t want me to send someone…?”

“I AM FINE BY MYSELF, MOTHER. Thank you.”

“Alright, Adora, dear.  If you are in the area, we’re having lasagna at 7:00,” Carmen shrugged, blowing a motherly kiss.

“I’ll be sure to miss it..” Daring Do groaned, turning off the mirror.  She rubbed her forehead, fingers running through her monotone mane.

Daring Do was just getting ready to leave when the unconscious pony in the silken robes started to stir.  He fumbled for and recovered his knife.

Setting eyes on her he got up, made a formal Far Eastern bow and said, “Miss Do, if I may be permitted to say so, that was most ill done.  That pony and a few others with him are treacherous liars and wish to steal a priceless thing to which they have no right.”

Daring Do returned quietly, “It was very bad form of you to try murdering him here, in this club. The alley or even the street outside would have been better.

“As for his character, I already know that much of him and his associates.  What more can you tell me?”

Haughtily he dodged her question.  “You knew of his evil ways and still chose to listen to him?  Perhaps I have misjudged you.”

She made a formal Far Eastern bow to him and replied in perfect X'ibian with an ancient proverb. “The failure to listen is the greatest cause of Ignorance.”

The pony’s eyes flew wide and his face fell.  “I have erred greatly by my precipitous action.  Be sure to listen with wisdom.”

He took his leave, robes making a slight swishing sound against the carpet of the Club floor.

Daring Do followed him out but he was nowhere to be seen.  Consulting the card, she trotted up the street.

The building itself was not even hard to locate.  It had a flagpole hanging over the street with a flag of pale off green with gray letters outlined in brownish red. “The Legal Team of ROT, for all of your legal needs!” was flapping in the breeze.

She entered, thinking ironically of the old joke, “pony walked down the street and turned into a drug store.  After five sales, he bought what he wanted and changed back into a pony!”

She walked up to the receptionist and proffered the card.  The receptionist looked down her nose at Daring Do and pronounced, “You are late for your appointment.  You will have to wait for at least an hour.”

Daring Do gave her a return snooty stare and retorted, “No, I do not.  THEY made the appointment without consulting me.  I informed them that they would have to wait until my business was done.  

“I am only marginally interested in whatever they want me for.  You may inform them that they can call me at their earliest convenience to set a mutually agreeable appointment.”  She tipped her pith helmet and turned to leave.

Frantically, the receptionist called after her, “Miss Do!  Please take the elevator with the bronze doors!  The Partners will see you immediately!”

“That is better, Horstense!” Daring Do entered the elevator, which had an earth pony operator. She serenely pulled a large, double edged knife and began to carefully trim her left hoof.  Conversationally, she mentioned, “If this car gets stuck between floors, you get stuck too.  Not seriously, of course.  You will become qualified for a higher paid job, though.  Castrato in the Fallen Pony Choir.”  He paled at the thought.  The elevator ride was uneventful.

She stepped out into a foyer with big glass doors at the far end.  They had black and gilt letters proclaiming, ROT, the firm for all Legal Work.”  Beyond the doors was an office with three desks placed in a U shape with a single hard chair at the focus of the U.  The desks were not occupied, so Daring Do checked to see if the doors were unlocked.

They were.  With a grin, Daring Do entered and quickly leaped across the desk at the center.  She first lifted the comfortable, padded swivel chair out and replaced it with the hard chair.  Checking the desk itself, she found a large flagon of expensive pomegranate juice and a snifter.  There was only one door that they could enter from.  She took their waste baskets and put them where the door swinging in would just miss them. Checking the other desks yielded an assortment of documents, a number of them were maps with X'ibian characters instead of Equestrian words.

She settled herself comfortably, far back, near the doors, away from the focus of the desks.  She leaned back, smiling, and poured a healthy shot.  While studying the maps, she started sipping.

Looking closely at two of the documents caused her to pull out her Magic Net mirror and make several urgent calls.

NEXT ==>

Return to theMaster Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

[justlurkingintheshadows]

@nutsandvoltsweek I got some soft for that angsty heart, doctor's orders I'm afraid. I REALLY enjoyed this one, much much more than I can actually explain. I started writing this at like 1am because it wouldn't let me sleep, I eventually fell asleep but I got half of it done then so there wasn't too much left when I was able to get back to it.

Day 6, Royalty AU

Of Meisters and Menials

(Alt title which is essentially just adapted meanings of the initial words aka the original title simply explained: Of skill and degradation)

Word count : 1,957

Content tags : King!Watts, Jester!Tyrian, Royalty AU, attempted murder, minor character death

-----

There was something oddly fulfilling about performing for the king, he never looked impressed but deep down he enjoyed the show every time, though he would never admit it. And Tyrian liked to push the boundaries of what was truly acceptable in the king's court, it was something the guards hated him for.

It wasn't uncommon for Tyrian to suddenly approach his Majesty with no permissions, it sparked the natural instinct of the guards to protect their sovereign and there were times that it had almost ended badly had they not been halted by a direct order. King Arthur found it only mildly irksome that he would be approached so easily by the man of many tricks but he knew there was no danger to him and excused it.

Tyrian was adept with his hands, presenting a flourish during the intense telling of stories or at the end of a trick for flair, but it was his juggling that was most impressive, he didn't tend to use the regular means, instead of soft balls to throw and catch he used weapons. It was also not out of the ordinary for the mischief maker to steal the swords of the protective soldiers and balance them atop one another, either point to point or pommel to pommel, maybe sometimes a mix of both, he was able to find some way to balance them, much like he tended to find a way to balance himself almost anywhere too, whether that be a pillar or the king's own throne, a personal favourite spot because it was the most effortlessly irritating position he could find that guaranteed a scowl from many of the sentries, but he knew they couldn't stop him and since he didn't get in the way he was never directly told off for doing so by anyone who actually mattered so he kept doing it, his favourite part was sometimes leaning down to look into the emerald eyes of the only person who was allowed to sit there, they often looked back with raised brows and a comment about how he was perhaps being a bit too cocky and the response was to grin and giggle "Perhaps" yet he still never got chastised. The most negative response he ever got was a sigh. 

He was clearly good at his craft, and there were many who couldn't stand him, thought his enthusiastic spontaneity was dangerous and irresponsible, though it still seemed to please their ruler who was never quite as mad as other observers seven if he didn't make it obvious.

Tyrian was essentially the only person who was actually allowed an unsupervised close personal audience with the king without having to announce himself (eventhough they would have preferred he announced himself beforehand he simply did not), he just appeared to bother his Highness whenever he could. He even had the audacity to incorrectly address the ruler calling him 'My Majesty' instead of 'Your Majesty' and sometimes even just 'Majesty'. In fact it was quite miraculous that he hadn't been accused of mutiny or the like as any other who dared to 'insult' the king in such a way would face death, but not Tyrian, his value to the court was his ability of charm and quality of amusement. He enjoyed showing up when he wasn't at all invited and hovering around quietly, certain visitors almost thought it was inappropriate but he was never truly reprimanded and so kept doing it time and time again, causing no disruptions despite some trying to claim otherwise.

There were other skills that some were less aware of but the most favourites of the sovereign was the unapparent expertise of knife throwing, despite the juggling and balancing you would never expect the jovial jester to truly be able to actually land an accurate hit with barely any effort, this had only been displayed once when someone attempted to cause harm to the crown and the guards had been unavailable or simply too slow to react, the attempted assassin had been the one to throw the blade, the target being the crown head, and yet they were the one who ended up getting hit; in an impressive set of moves Tyrian had pushed his Majesty out of his throne, caught the flying dagger before it struck the fine material, and fired it back in the direction it came, the strike landed wonderfully between the stunned eyes of a fellow trained for hostility. Trained to react against the king and his men but not for the King's court fool. Arthur was rather astonished, a little shocked but barely bruised from being shoved out the way, but entirely amazed at the swift involvement of his apparently innocent jokesmith with a deadly insinuation. While the royal may have been impressed his defenders were not quite so, though they couldn't be entirely displeased with this event. Arthur noticed there was a bit of blood in Tyrian's hand, upon inspection it was observed that in the act of catching the knife he'd caught himself, it was only minor but it was demanded that the doctor see to it, there was even some praise of thanks for saving the life. He was happy to have the attention of the single monarchy, he thoroughly relished in the attentiveness that multiplied after that event.

Years gradually passed and he was always welcomed even more into the castle, it was odd that he felt he belonged somewhere. The life of a fool isn't always so good-humoured.

One day his royal Highness had to leave on business and it was left to his steward to man the castle while he was away, there was only one empirical issue, they didn't like Tyrian at all. In the king's absence they'd ask for entertainment only to appear bored by it or laugh in such a way it didn't seem fair, this wasn't the same chuckle that sometimes managed to escape the mouth of the ruler, this laugh was more mocking and while Tyrian had grown up around those sorts of noises it got him a little annoyed. At one point the steward asked "Why do you insist on remaining so happy and bouncy all the time?" And Tyrian had smiled and responded delightedly,

"Because I know I am loved by someone" he knew that though King Arthur never showed it in reality his Majesty did appreciate his presence and that sometimes his little tricks really did make his day, though again he would never admit it. The steward laughed.

"You really think that the King cares AT ALL about /you/?" The smile faded from Tyrian's face, "Why would anyone CARE about /you/?" They didn't hold back, the jesters smile faded even more, "He pities you because you're pathetic and useless by any other means, it's not that he actually enjoys having you around it's just that he has to endure it to keep you complacent and loyal to his cause, not that you'd be of any assistance loyal or not" at this point the smile had turned to a sorrowful frown, if there was one thing that could hurt the jolly joker it was the thought that there was a chance his King actually couldn't care less about him. It hurt, those wounds cut deep, much deeper than any knife juggling accident could ever have gone. It scarred his soul.

Arthur was away for a while but when he returned he was, despite best efforts to keep emotions tightly reigned in, happy to see his favourite (and only) jester again, even if it was hard for him to express it. Business had been stressful, it was usually because of having to deal with other people for so long, he needed to relax and unwind with a good joke or a short tale or maybe a trick of some sorts but for some reason he could tell there was something not quite right about his dutiful jokester. He never usually had much of a conversation with Tyrian, it was generally one sided and mostly just in the form of a story with no requirements for contribution, so when he approached the young man while they were alone and asked him if everything was okay it came as quite a shock.

"Is everything ok? You don't seem to have as much heart, has something happened while I've been gone?" Queried the man with all the power. Tyrian blinked at him then remembered his manners and bowed lowly,

"Everything is fine Your majesty, nothing you should concern yourself with" he said as politely as he could. Arthur thought this was somewhat odd,

"Are you sure? It just appears that there may be something the matter, you're not acting quite as I recall you did before" there were attempts to hide hints of concern,

"I am simply remaining in my place Your Majesty, it would be improper for me to act wildly." This seemed to be a final straw

"Tyrian," came an oddly unusual soft tone, Tyrian couldn't help but look in utter confusion at this change of voice, "Are you okay? Something happened didn't it?" There was a silent refusal to answer but the shift of eyes to the floor indicated the truth, "You may speak, it is permitted..." He was trying, it didn't seem to work so another tactic was used, "I demand you inform me of anything that's happened to make you act this way." He stated. Tyrian still seemed reluctant but he couldn't ignore an order though he still took time to find the words.

"You need not worry yourself too much Your Majesty, I am aware you do not actually care for me in any way, I've been informed your apparent enjoyment of my display is simply pity…" he started to trail off, it upset him to think about it again.

Then Watts put a hand on his cheek, lifting his head up to initiate eye contact.

"And whom was it that told you that?" The tone was careful but there was an element of danger to it that Tyrian immediately picked up on, it almost made him shudder. Instead of giving a true answer he simply said,

"It is what I was advised" but the implications were there.

"Is that so?"

Tyrian looked into the royal green eyes that regarded him, he felt foolish for wanting to get lost in them, especially when a corner of them harboured some annoyance that was never going to be directed at him. Arthur smiled softly, his warmth threatening to melt the poor Scorpion.

"I don't want you to believe what you were advised, I want you to believe that I say"

Tyrian's eyes were wide and he was trying not to look too dreamy, he stuttered an awkward response "O-okay… I mean yes, o-of course.. Your Majesty" he was starting to feel like a fool

"I would never let anyone else be aware but I do care, you entertain me. Often your jokes and gimmicks tend to be the only thing I won't be so stone-faced about." His smile was slightly awkward, rather unbefitting of the leader of the kingdom, but somehow suitable for Arthur thought Tyrian. There was some mild hesitation as the other hand moved to hold the other side of his face, Tyrian couldn't help but enjoy the warmth of it. They stood there with the jesters face being cupped by an awkward King. Then Arthur touched his forehead to Tyrian's earning a little stunned gasp.

It was a sweet moment that neither really wanted to end, but it allowed the lord to realise that life would be a lot less interesting without his merryman to keep him company. He didn't want to imagine it.

-----

BONUS!!!

King snake and Jester scorpion

-I wish I could actually draw a king Watts with Jester Tyrian hanging over the back of his throne like the dick he is because that's my life and I need it but I will never 😭-

[likeshipsonthesea]

"I'll be right back" kisses for nurseydax!

thank you so much for this prompt! from this list the prompt: “I’ll be right back” kisses: A puts their hands on B’s shoulders from behind them, where they are sat on the couch. He leans down and around, while B turns his head a little, accepting the quick peck.

sorry for the late response, i had finals and then returning from the dead after finals and then work but i really wanted to write tonight so i sat down and wrote this out… hope y’all enjoy!

also yes i’ve been watching too many home improvement shows recently and it has become a problem. i don’t really care, though. good bones is the shit.

also also warning for mild homophobia (like, mentions of past instances) and references to anxiety, but p tame for one of my fics tbh. anywho, without further ado, here ya go!

         “Oh, no,”Ma says, her mouth wrinkled and pixelated through the laptop screen, “don’t youGod-darned dare pick the Super White over the Carrera.”

         Dex smothers his laughter into thethrow pillow Nursey picked out for their sofa and watches on as Mina tries toconvince Karen on the TV screen that they ought to go for Carrera marble forthe countertops in their newly renovated kitchen. Ma, completely unaware,full-on cheers when Karen finally gives in.

         “They almost ruined that kitchen.” Mashakes her head. “You see that Will—are you laughing at me? Are you laughing atyour mother right now?”

         Even the green and grey patternedpillow cannot contain Dex’s laughter, then, and he bursts out with giggles at Ma’saffronted expression. She continues to frown at him as the show—Good Bones—goesto commercial, but her lips twitch slightly, stilted over Skype, which givesaway the fact that she isn’t truly mad.

         It’s something of a guilty pleasure,this thing Dex does with Ma once or twice a month. It started when he was akid, when every so often he’d be permitted to stay up past bedtime to join Maon the couch and listen to her comment on home renovation shows the same wayDex’s uncles would yell along to hockey games. Ma has a very specific taste,which includes everything she personally likes and resents everything she does not.From the time Dex was six, he listened to Ma critique and care for various designand construction choices that cost more than the wages she’d make in a month,and soon he absorbed those sentiments to the point where, even today, his tasteis dictated by her own.

         (“I want to do a fun color in one ofthe rooms,” Nursey complained, standing in the paint aisle of the closest HomeDepot, holding up a swatch of orange-red sunset.

         The back of Dex’s neck tightened andhe shook his head. “How about a soft green?” He pointed at the second-to-topswatch on the sample card. “It won’t be too… abrasive, and we can pair stuffwith it way easier.”

         Nursey frowned momentarily, buteventually hummed thoughtfully and took the swatch. Dex—despite thecomplications of the fact that this paint choice resulted from him moving in witha man whom he loved—knew that, in this moment, Ma would be proud.)

         “How’s work, Ma?” Dex asks, ascommercials mean there’s time to catch up. “Carolyn still giving you trouble?”

         “No, you haven’t heard?” Ma gets all wide-eyed,like the ladies down at church when someone’s marriage gets rocky or a localson gets a grand idea and drops out of college because of it. “Carolyn quit,”Ma goes on, whispering even though Dad is most definitely sound asleep in theirbedroom by now. She starts gesturing, extravagant and unnecessary, the sameclumsy way Nursey loves to do, and Dex watches on, more amused than attentive.The nature of her rambling comforts him—it took them a bit to get back here,and Dex, for all that he can’t forget the way she stumbled back when it allhappened, is unavoidably grateful for the return to normalcy.

         (“Does it make me…” Dex trailed off,lying in bed, Nursey’s arm warm and heavy around his shoulder as they sharedthe too-small mattress of the old bunk beds. “I don’t know. Brainwashed? Tooforgiving? Desperate?”

         Nursey squeezed, tight and withouthesitation. “It’s not desperate to want a good relationship with your parents.”A light brush of lips against Dex’s temple. “People give up all sorts of thingsfor that. It doesn’t make you wrong. It just makes you human.”

         And Dex couldn’t argue with that, notwhen he knew all the things Nursey gave up for his parents to be able to smileeasy at him, without worry. Yeah, maybe not telling your parents about youranxiety is different than pretending like they never hesitated over loving youbecause of who you love, but if the result was the same… That was one of thethings Dex liked best about them, him and Nursey. They had such different pathsto the places they ended up, but for some reason, it was the easiest understandinghe’d ever found. He hoped Nursey felt the same way—thought, maybe, without toomuch hesitation, that it was, in fact, the same.)

         The commercials are filtering towards theend—they always showed commercials for other HGTV shows when the ads werestarting to end—but Ma is still in the middle of a rant about the latestbullshit Carolyn pulled before she up and quit, just as Nursey pads into theroom in socks—Dex’s socks—holding a pair of shoes.

         “I’m running to the store,” he says,hopping precariously as he shoves one shoe on his foot. “I want crepes in themorning and we’re almost out of eggs.”

         “What do you need crepes for?” Dexsays, frowning, worried, as Nursey almost decapitates their lamp.

         “I’m a bougie bitch, babe, deal withit.” Nursey throws in a wink mid-shoe-shove and nearly takes himself out on thecorner of their area rug. Dex winces preemptively.

         “Why are you wearing my socks?”

         “They’re softer,” Nursey says, and asDex opens his mouth to protest that they buy the same brand of socks and they’rewashed with the same detergent, Nursey adds, “and whenever I wear them, youget all riled up. Which you know I love.”

         Dex sighs. Unfortunately, he does knowhow much Nursey loves riling him up.

         Nursey just grins, finally succeeding ingetting shoes on both of his feet. Assured that Nursey will not brain himselfon the furniture for at least one more night, Dex turns back to the television,where the show is starting up again, and his laptop screen, where Ma has ceasedranting in favor of watching, having not paused once while Dex spoke withNursey, because as any small-town gossiper knows, stopping for any reason isonly admitting defeat.

         Mina and Karen, on the television, arenow dealing with some obviously contrived—or at the least exaggerated—issue withthe house and Ma, as usual, complains accordingly, and Dex is so absorbed infinding out of they’ll get the right sized windows for the house that he barelynotices Nursey is behind him until warm hands settle on his shoulders andNursey’s face bends close to steal a quick kiss.

         “Be right back,” Nursey murmurs, soft,sweet, lips pressed against the corner of Dex’s mouth. “Love you.”

         “Love you too,” Dex says, distracted, attentionheld by the show. Nursey huffs a short laugh, warm against Dex’s cheek, andthen both his mouth and his hands are gone, the front door closing quietlybehind him.

         Dex continues to watch and onlyrealizes that it’s abnormally silent after the window issue has been resolved.He glances down at the laptop screen to see Ma staring at him, a new, uncommonwide-eyed look on her pixelated face.

         Dex frowns. “What?” he asks.

         Ma’s eyelids flutter and she shakesher head, her parted lips closing into a small smile. “Nothing, honey, nothing,just.” Through the screen, Dex can make out her laugh lines deepening. “I’mjust happy for you, is all.”

         “For wh—oh.” Dex glances at the closedfront door quickly before looking back at the screen. Feeling slightly stupidbut mostly warm, he smiles. “Thanks, Ma,” he says, and they smile back at oneanother through the shitty Skype connection for a handful of moments more,before—on the TV—the beautiful Carrera countertops arrive and Ma crows with glee,remarking on the perfection of that particular choice.

         They watch on, Ma chirping houseflippers in an old yet loved family home in Maine, and Dex warm in the New YorkCity apartment he shares in every way with someone he loves more than he’d everthought he’d be able to love, and the both of them are—simply—happy.

[jksangelic]

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: romance, angst, dry humor, smut, undergroundrapper!yoongi (don’t be fooled, yoongi is a soft lover in this), one-shot (divided for the sake of a functioning mobile tumblr)

↳ pairing: yoongi x reader

↳ parts: 1 | 2 | 3

↳ word count: 2.8k

↳ a/n: here’s the first part! second part comes tmro, and third comes the next day, both releasing at 10PM PST! please look forward to them heehehehe. 

this part does not contain smut, only light swearing and maybe some sensual themes? i don’t remember lol. it’s also not very edited hehe i’ll come back to it.

*each squiggly divider represents a flashback, straight divider represents current time*

Yoongi preferred the heat set to exactly eighty degrees Fahrenheit, which was utterly ridiculous. It caused you to toss and turn in a pool of unattractive, and possibly foul-smelling, sweat all throughout the night. Even more so, he trapped you with his own limbs, protecting you like that stupid dog from Tom and Jerry protected that awfully large and awfully raw steak. You’ve fallen in and out of consciousness because of it, surely waking up every thirty minutes while the man slept like a log.

But it was wonderful.

You open your eyes for the umpteenth time, assuring he’s still attached to the hip and planting a kiss on his forehead sleepily. What a dream it would be to stay like this forever, you think, tossing the idea away as quickly as it came. It was punishing as is and you dare not tie the noose around your own neck.

You scan the room, curtains drawn closed and tv silently flicking through commercials, casting a dim width of light onto the bed. It must still be pretty early in the morning, you assume, a bittersweet realization.

Enjoy the moment, you correct yourself, be happy that you were able to have this. So you peer down at him through foggy vision, his eyes closed and mean, twitching a bit enough that you suppose he’s dreaming of something himself. Nudging your face into his hair, which smelled faintly of smoke and peaches, you force yourself back into slumber.

For the first time tonight, you sleep deeply.

Wondering how the hell anyone was permitted admission after the venue breached occupancy threefold, you rub at the aching spot of your ribs that your neighbor unintentionally keeps jabbing. You attempt to peer over the sea of heads anyway, looking for that goddamned girl that dragged you here in the first place. Where was she? Why was she so short? Why did you wear heels to a concert?

Never did you suspect you would be pushed against barricade at 11PM on a Thursday, waiting for an artist you have never heard. The sweat that accumulates, quite frankly, everywhere was probably starting to stain your clothes at this point. The beauty of public outings.

“Y/N! Y/N! Right here!” screams the woman of your nightmares, waving maniacally more towards the middle of the crowd than you but nevertheless farther than you would like to travel in this density. You make your trek, apologizing profusely as full-grown adults glare at you for moving, oh help them all.

“I will have your head for this,” you yell into her ear, gripping the divider to ease the stinging pain stemming from your toes.

“Lighten up, you’re at a concert that you got into for free, for heaven’s sake,” Chungha pouts, bopping her head happily to whatever DJ was opening for her beloved. “I think you’ll like these guys, anyway. Really good rappers, up-and-coming and all that good stuff.”

“Yeah, if they even show up. This poor dude has been playing for over an hour. Do you suppose his fingers hurt from pressing all those buttons?” She rolls her eyes in a way that says, please stop already. You really just want to know.

If this DJ had any influence of what the main act would be, you would rather just leave, plain and simple. This wasn’t really your thing in the first place, Overwatch and Red Dead Redemption (not one, but TWO!) sounding much more appealing than listening to EDM’s Worst Hits. But Chungha was a sweetheart who you’d marry in an instant, and when she asked you to come and claimed she already got you a ticket because she knew you couldn’t possibly say no to her, well, you couldn’t possibly say no to her.

You even dressed up for the occasion, a mix of Instagram baddie and Tumblr aesthetic (a sum of words you’d never like to use again) smooshed into one oddly cute outfit, if you did say so yourself.

It wasn’t worth your time.

But then the music starts changing pace, lights changing colors and dimming and smoke machines going ham and you suppose it’s finally starting. Three men walk out, one with orange hair and a long but pretty nose, heart mouth showcasing the straightest teeth you’ve ever seen on a human being, the second slightly shorter, bleached hair styled messily and the hand holding his mic covered in rings, the final with a smirking dimple, leading them out and hyping up the crowd with a few welcoming words that you don’t quite make out.

“There’s three,” you state dumbly.

“Great job counting! Remind me to give you a cookie later,” Chungha retorts halfheartedly, much more intrigued by seeing these men in person, “The guy in front is RM, he’s their leader. Blonde is Suga. J-Hope is the sexy one—HOSEOK OPPA!” She screams as if she’s been struck with a spatula, eyes wide and focusing.

You like their style, you’ll give them that. RM starts the song strong, lyrics so quick and diction so clear that it sounds as if he’s rapping directly to you. They all bounce around the stage, people at barricade, including your friend, reaching out and bobbing along in synchronization. J-Hope follows suit, stage presence oddly intimidating and seductive concurrently, his body more fluid and powerful than any dancer you’ve seen before. You can see why he would be the ladies’ man, lying to yourself if you said your eyes haven’t focused on his hips more often than not.

And without warning, Suga bursts into his own lines, atmosphere changing almost immediately when he brings the mic to his mouth. It’s hypnotic, his words continuously stringing out without break, without a single beat missed. You watch in fear. As the crowd around you screams and attempts to chime in, Suga steps closer and closer to them, squatting down right in front of where you stand and finishing his part with a deep, breathy note. He sits there as both men and women (and Chunga) paw at him and for the smallest of moments, do you think, his eyes lock on you.

It sets you on fire.

Yoongi always made it a point to study the faces of his fans out of appreciation. It would be foolish to say he’d be able to recognize each and every person he’s ever encountered, but he knows you were one to sketch into the archives of his mind. It doesn’t help that you are the only one, mouth slightly agape and teeth biting the inside of your cheek, completely still and studying. For the first time in a while, he feels intimidated; self-conscious even. More than a listener amongst the energetic mob, you look more like a critic.

It makes him shiver.

I would be his groupie in a heartbeat, you think, no doubt that he too is infamous around women wherever he goes. Whatever the matter, seeing this enigma of a man was worth your whole night’s experience.

I love, I love, I love myself! The audience screams, bass intensifying as the other two reach for water bottles propped on the stage. I love, I love, I love myself!

J-Hope throws in some ad-libs, sipping from his water before chucking the lid entirely, Namjoon putting a hand to his ear to egg everyone on and holding his own water above. You still stand in place, astonished how ethereal someone can look on stage and you instantaneously understand why people barricade. Suga catches you again, still squatted in the same position, possibly too lazy to get a water for himself but lets his brothers do what they must, and grins subtly.

You must look absolutely moronic gaping at this man, tongue-in-cheek impressed and hands barely gripped around the bars while everyone else around strains to be closer to the stars of the night.

I love, I love, I love myself! Y’all player hater, you should love yourself!

And that’s when you get—at least, half of a water bottle’s worth of water thrown at your direction. Right in front of the newfound man of your dreams. Everyone else screams madly, acting like these gods have blessed their parched souls with water after days on end, while you now look a little like a wet dog dressed in a hoochie skirt. You shrug, wiping at whatever was worth attempting to dry and thanking the gods that your makeup wasn’t running.

“Oh my god, your shirt is soaked!” Chungha lately notices, head whipping back and forth from the boys to you, back to the boys just in case she was missing something important.

“I would sell myself for that man,” you deadpan, not even blinking towards her.

“Suga? I bet he would accept if you managed to offer it to him.”

“I would easily give him all of the money in my savings right now.”

“You don’t have a savings. Pay attention.”

So you did.

You relished in every part Suga had, finally gathering up enough brain cells to at least rock with everyone else. Every song was like a lucid dream, the concert high really resonating with you. Either that, or you were literally high off of how much smoke there was. Gotta love rap concerts.

Perhaps it was the luck of the opening song, but Suga didn’t make eye contact with you again, a beaten disappointment gurgling in your stomach. But instead of behaving as a kicked puppy and moping about losing every possible chance that the blonde devil would bring you atop the stage and dedicate his serenade of sorts strictly to your face in front of hundreds of people--well, the chances were nearly zero. We're not all winners.

Suga continues on, trying not to focus on the girl with the sharp eyes that makes him clammy to the point where his throat threatens to constrict on him, which isn't optimal. He finishes song after song with his brothers, taking long enough breaks in between to catch his breath and focus on the bigger picture: that there was an entire crowd to please and not just you. Besides, there would always be a pretty or handsome face no matter where he went, he was Suga, goddammit, he wasn't a high school horndog ready to pounce on every intriguing entity he just casually glanced at. That role was a style more befitting for his brothers.

 Upon your cognizance that this group was downright brilliant, the concert ends much sooner than you would have liked it. And just like that, the three send their love and are ushered behind the stage. It takes a while for the swarm to dissipate, interlacing your fingers with Chungha's to insure you don't lose her again.

 "So, I take it you liked them," she giggles, forehead sheen with sweat because holy shit it's so fucking hot in here.

"They are really... talented. I award proper recognition when it's truly deserved." Tired of waiting, you practically shove your way past the bodies, dragging your poor friend behind you and bee-lining for the entrance.

"Wait! Do you want to get merch?" You twitch your nose, not entirely opposing the idea.

"Are you sure you don't want to just hop in? I'll pay for you!" Chungha cries, halfway into her Uber.

"Sis, I live down the street, I promise I'll be fine. I'll call you when I get home."

"That's so far!"

"I'm walking away now. Go home."

She harrumphs once for effect before waving goodbye, Prius soundlessly whooshing away while your best friend sticks her tongue out at you in the back window. You laugh at her foolishness before spinning on your heel and making your way.

It was just the right amount of chilly, breeze cooling you down a notch. You bet your ass you would remember this night forever, writing a mental note to check out the group on every social platform there was when you got home.

 You skirt down a corner of the building, aiming for the route of your apartment--or, at least, where you think it is? "Sense of direction" surely wasn't the best trait on your resume. Walking down the dim street, you notice a few trickling souls walking in and out of the building, probably help from the venue closing up. It's when you see Suga, attempting to light his cigarette and leaning against a black van that you stop like a deer in headlights.

"Suga!" you point and exclaim like a child.

"... Wanna say that any louder, toots?" He chuckles, though, seemingly pleased rather than offended. He scoffs at his empty lighter, tucking the thing in his pocket and leaving his cigarette unlit on his lips.

"S-Sorry. My bad. Do you, uh, need a light?" you offer apologetically, digging through your purse to grab your lucky lighter, an embarrassing bright pink thing with Betty Boop floating in the middle.

"Thanks," he smiles, grabbing the lighter from your hand and flicking it to life as he takes a drag. "Do you smoke?"

"Not cigarettes. Honestly, I already regret offering that to you. That's a bad habit to kick," you sigh, taking it back when he hands it to you.

"Don't I know it." He glances up at your face when he returns your lighter, showing a regretful smirk but studying your face in the process. Well, hell, if it wasn't for the barricade critic.

"I recognize you," he continues, "you were up front, right?"

"Oh, god, I can't believe you remember that."

His heart skips at the match, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth and pushing himself off the van. "You, uh, looked unimpressed. Got me worried that I lost my game for a bit."

"No! I wasn't unimpressed at all. I'm just a new fan, I guess. My friend brought me. I think I was just in awe, if anything. I even got this hood--"

You quite literally bite your tongue, wishing you could slap your face at the outburst, realization running over you like a train.

"You got what?" he presses, a sly curiousness brimming.

"N-Nothing. You were good. That's all."

"'That's all'? Geez, you're really putting me down over here, toots." He throws the butt and stomps it out, "Those eyes of yours really made me nervous."

Your eyes? How smooth of him. "Oh, I doubt that. You seemed just fine to me."

He hesitates to respond; what exactly are you trying to get at here? Sweet and sour, he supposes. It's interesting to him compared to the countless amount of substance-less gals that suck up to him to simply suck him. New fans certainly were feisty, he supposes.

"Do you live around here?" he asks.

"Are you going to stalk me? Yes."

"Well, if I was, you probably shouldn't have said yes before I answered. But luckily, no." He sticks out his hand, clad with rings of, you're sure of, soaring prices beyond what you can imagine for jewelry, "I'm Min Yoongi. But I guess everyone kinda just calls me Suga now. You can call me Yoongi, if you'd like. Can I ask for your name?"

You take his hand softly, hoping he doesn't notice the way you shrink in it because heavens that near-zero chance of meeting Suga certainly did skyrocket. "It's Y/N."

"Mm, pretty," he comments surely. "Well, Y/N. We're actually going to be here for a while, just finished a few shows here and there and decided to take a break until we can figure out bigger plans," he's talking too much, "Anyway, would you want to hang out sometime?"

You shiver in astonishment, what was happening here? What kind of lucky star flew over your head for this? Your goosebumps had goosebumps.

"That... Yeah, that would be great! Do you... Do you want my number?"

"Would love it," he declares, taking his phone out and setting up your contact without delay.

"Do you do this much? Snag a girl's number after a show?" you joke as you type in your number. Yoongi snorts.

"Girls don't necessarily talk to me in a well-respected manner, let alone offer me a light."

"Well, don't expect that last bit anymore. Smoking really is a pet-peeve of mine," you warn. Who were you to warn him of something you didn't like? Idiot!

"Yes, ma'am. I'll shoot you a text sometime. Was nice meeting you," he says, watching you nod and smile and wave goodbye as you continue on home, Suga's name printed enormously on the back of the new sweatshirt you bought from the merch stand. He bites back a snicker, picking at the hair on his neck before walking back inside.

[tartagilicious]

this is the first time I’m doing this in a while, so I wanna take the time to explain this piece for the new people following my account;

we all know the writing for otome games is not notoriously good. in fact, I think one of the only ones I’ve ever encountered that put as much care into the writing as they do the romance is Ikemen Vampire. so, every once in a while, when I come upon a chapter I really love, I’ll take the time to rewrite it. this time, it was chapters 6-7 of Yukimura’s route in Ikemen Sengoku! 

(this is just for creative purposes, and I don’t know about you, but I think that most scenes from these games would have a more significant effect if they were more in-depth.)

so, uh, major spoilers under the cut for Yuki’s route!!

—

I’d said goodbye to Yuki that night without fear because he had promised that it wasn’t the last time we would meet. And I, having faith in the man I’d grown to love, believed it. I knew Yuki would keep his word no matter what from the beginning, but I wished that he could’ve done it some other way.

Because I wanted to see him again, but never like that.

I gripped onto whatever my fingers could gather on Nobunaga’s uniform, completely unprepared for the violent jolt of his horse as he stopped a ways away from the opposing general that had implemented a surprise attack on the camp we were staying in.

I peeked around his shoulder and was terrified at what I saw. A line of men in red armour kicked up impressive clouds of dust as their own steeds charged closer.

“Looks like the commander of Shingen’s Akazonae has come to greet me personally!” Nobunaga jeered this confidently, grinning when the commander he spoke of came into sight. I wanted to say something, but I refrained upon seeing the man’s expression. If he didn’t listen to me normally, I knew it would be a wish thinking he would have any of me now.

Nobunaga’s didn’t falter, but quietly enough for only him and I to hear, he said, “It’s certainly not like him to play a dastardly surprise attack.”

I gulped. Just who was the commander he spoke of?

“He must hate me as much as Shingen does,” He assessed, nodding as he once again spoke softly. I couldn’t help myself his time and gave him a small nudge for being so casual. While I remembered the words of a famous commander being passed around in the meeting, I didn’t know that Nobunaga had any connection to them outside, nor the right to be so nonchalant about them.

Put off by the situation, I tried my best to squint through the dust and get a good look at the commander the man in front of me spoke about. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was certainly nothing close to what I got. My blood ran cold at the sight in front of my eyes, as the familiar man kicked his horse to a stop.

Nobunaga’s expression was sullen as if the things he’d just said were never even uttered.

“Yukimura Sanada! Face me now!”

An equally serious voice called out from across the battlefield. And the man that I’d since befriended after running into a group of bandits, gone to a festival with, and confessed my mutual feelings to in the form of a kiss, sat atop his horse, his grim expression unfamiliar.

I wanted to believe that the person sharpening his spear right in front of my eyes wasn’t the man who would smile timidly and joke around with me. I wanted to believe that my eyes were playing tricks on me, and I tried to stick with that notion as his and Nobunaga’s weapons clashed with an ear-splitting clang.

“Hm,” Yukimura hummed tauntingly, a sound that only made my heart ache as I continued to piece together who the man in fact was. “I heard you nearly died at Honno-Ji, but it seemed that hasn’t dulled your skills.”

If I wasn’t hearing the tone of his voice, I would probably think that Yuki was almost praising Nobunaga, but Nobunaga’s hostile response only confirmed that was far from the truth.

“And you and Shingen have been hiding away, honing your fangs to attack me again!”

Nobunaga’s men fought tirelessly all around us, but he only had eyes for the commander in front of him. I couldn’t see Nobunaga’s expression at the moment from where I was shrunk behind his back, but I was sure it was a look I was lucky to not see.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had to fight myself,” Nobunaga sneered, “So you’d better make this good, Sanada.”

My brows twitched at the unfamiliar name, and confusion washed over me faster than the cold fear on the back of my neck. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it as I adjusted my grip on Nobunaga, mistakenly losing my hold on the slippery material of the plated armour he wore.

“Ah-” I cursed under my breath and frantically tried to find anything I could to hold onto.

“___!” Nobunaga grunted my name as his hand shot out to steady me, his reaction quick enough to pull me back up behind him almost flawlessly. Thanks to him, it was easy to regain my place, but as I strengthened my grip, my eyes met with the enemy commander’s.

“___?”

I couldn’t quite hear the commander’s voice over the turmoil around us, but I subconsciously knew that he had called my name. There wasn’t a shred of me that doubted the man in front of me was Yuki anymore, and my stomach dropped deep with my nerves. I was in a tough spot.

It was like I had been turned to stone where I sat, almost as if someone had casted a spell on me. My mind refused to process anything at that moment, only coming back to reality when Nobunaga spoke again.

“Never mind the woman! Don’t you dare go easy on me because of her, Yukimura!”

His words cut through me like a poisoned blade, and it only wedged deeper when Yuki let out a resolved hum and pulled out his sword, charging determinedly closer to the other man.

My voice was broken with fear, but I managed to let out a small reaction as their blades crashed in a strike of sparks. I felt like I was going mad with all of the chaos in my head, and the situation between Yuki and Nobunaga only made my thoughts spin faster.

Roaring flames seemed to burst in Yuki’s eyes as he cursed, pushing Nobunaga’s sword away with brute force.  The scene in front of me flashed before my eyes, and before I knew it, Nobunaga’s body twisted to protect mine as Yuki’s sword came flying towards his throat.

“Stop!” I gritted my teeth as my body moved at its own accord, throwing my arms around Nobunaga’s neck.

Nobunaga's voice was strong as he murmured, “___-”

Yuki’s blade stopped right at the edge of my vision, but Nobunaga only pushed out a laugh.

“Yukimura, can you really afford to show mercy to the woman?”

I gritted my teeth as I pulled my arms around his neck tighter, only leading him to grin wider. I didn’t know why he insisted on egging him on in the middle of battle — as if the swords in their hands weren’t enough.

Ignoring my hold on him, he raised an arm and delivered a final forceful strike to Yuki’s torso, knocking him off his horse.

“No-!”  I opened my mouth in a silent scream, but it was swallowed by an enemy’s shout on my side.

“You bastard!” The voice called, only further making Nobunaga curious as he turned his head. And in the cloud of dust, he turned his steed back towards his allies. But I couldn’t help but look back, worried for the sake of Yuki. I scanned the hectic battlefield out of fear and breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted him on another horse, already clashing with another soldier.

I’m glad he’s okay.

“Grab your spears!” Nobunaga shouted. “Reform your lines! Do not let them advance!”

The fight still raged as we rode farther away, so I couldn’t quite feel relieved yet as we galloped steadily away from Yuki.

“Don’t hesitate! Smash through them!’

A voice called out from behind us that undoubtedly belonged to Yuki, but I still couldn’t seem to wrap my head around the concept that he was actually here. I didn’t have time to worry about that, though, as more Oda forces began to rush in

A commander shouted out from the fray. “Nobunaga! Allow me to lead the vanguard!”

“Do it. Do not let them gain even an inch.”

After a quick exchange with the commander, he turned his horse towards the rear and spoke to me.

“You know how to ride, right?”

“Me?” My brows raised in surprise. “Uh - yeah, kind of.”

Apparently, the answer was enough for him, because without hesitation, he said, “Then join Hideyoshi in the right-wing. I’m sure he’s vibrating with worry right about now.”

His attempt at a joke cheered me up only slightly.

“You mean you want me to run?” My brows furrowed. “I thought I was your lucky charm?”

He nodded. “You are indeed, but my plan was to have you lounge out of the line of danger, and the situation has clearly changed.”

“The enemy is just throwing numbers at the right and left wings we put at the front, tying up my forces with that diversion while sending an elite troop to deal with me directly. And I can’t let the source of my good luck face the brunt of the attack.”

If I squinted, I could hear that he was plainly just worried about my safety, but I didn’t have the time to think about it. So, I just agreed and let him put some distance between us and the fighting before he transferred me to another horse that had lost its rider in battle.

“Ride this horse out, ___. Take no detours.”

“But-”

“No objections. Hideyoshi must have already realised what’s happening and is probably on his way here as we speak. Join his unit as they support the rear.”

I bit my tongue and nodded. I guess if I stayed here, that would only mean staying on the front line. Yet, still, I couldn’t forget about Yuki. Our eyes had met for only a moment, but it seemed like an eternity. My questions still when unanswered for the majority, but I knew I still had no time to think about them.

“No more stalling! Go!”

“Wha-” Nobunaga only grinned as I scrambled to take the reins in my hands, and then handed me a dagger when I was situated.

“Take this. Use it if you need to protect yourself. You are not permitted to die when I’m not there with you.”

Uh, thanks?

With that, he turned his horse and galloped away towards the front without another word, leaving me there. I knew it would be worse to stay there, so I tucked the knife into my obi sash and kicked the horse into a run in the opposite direction.

But, I wasn’t that lucky. Soon after I got away from the main ranks of the fight, I heard the unsettling rumble of hooves from behind me. Risking a look over my shoulder, I saw enemies approaching fast. I could tell they were gaining a slight up on the Oda forces, so I only urged my horse to go faster, but I soon found myself coming to a stop as I was surrounded by our soldiers that were being pushed back.

I still wasn’t that lucky. I was continually pushed into the middle of the fighting as the enemy surged forward, and in a last resort of determination and fear, my hand began to reach for the dagger hidden in my obi.

An enemy soldier rushed towards me, and with a glint of bloodlust in his eyes, he shouted, “You can’t escape!”

I let out a grunt as I pulled the dagger on the soldier looming towards me, but someone’s voice rang out before either of us could do anything.

“Stop right there!”

An allied foot soldier pushed away the enemy’s sword with a jab of his spear, and my head whipped towards him as I took his features in. It was unmistakably Yahiko’s dad, and I pushed out a small thanks. He had smiled so kindly that day, but now -- he didn’t even spare me so much as a glance as he stared at the other soldiers with as much red in his eyes as the enemy’s.

I swallowed my words and tucked the dagger back in my sash, and then, following hot on the first man’s trail, another soldier approached fast.

“Don’t back down! Move forward!” Yuki ordered. My breath steeled at him, and I couldn’t move until Yahiko’s dad shouted from in front of me.

“I’ll stop you even if it costs me my life!”

The man’s shoulder shook slightly as he rode up to stop in front of Yuki, thrusting his spear forward without a second thought. But, Yuki didn’t back down. With a swift motion of his sword, he cut off the tip of his spear, rendering it useless while readying his blade for another attack in one swift motion.

Yuki glared daggers at the man. “Stay out of my way!”

Yahiko’s father grunted as Yuki knocked the spear out of his hand with another heavy blow.

“Don’t-”

I thought my voice had been quiet, but Yuki looked up at my words. When he noticed me there, his face contorted with sorrow for an instant.

“Yuki-”

He gritted his teeth painfully as he tore his eyes away. “Don’t-”

After saying something I couldn’t catch, he turned around and rushed back into the fray. I wanted to run after him, but I knew I couldn’t do that. That would be a blatant death wish, and I was a little more concerned about making sure I lived to see the next day than talking to Yuki at the moment. As I contemplated, Yahiko’s father stood up, a mixture of relief and confusion striking his features.

Still shaken, I forced myself to turn my horse away, galloping away from the battle. It all made sense now -- Yuki was the commander of the enemy army. Though it seemed impossible, I saw with my own two eyes that it was true.

I was just glad that he recognised Yahiko’s father’s face. I didn’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t. But, he still hadn’t hesitated to mercilessly disarmed the man with a hard blow anyway. He’d said he was a travelling merchant that hated battle... so just how much of what he’d told me was fake?

The same unanswered questions raced through my mind until I reached Hideyoshi’s unit. Reinforcements were flooding in from both sides and the battle only intensified. But, the sun set before a clear victor could emerge, so both sides retreated to opposite sides of the field to wait out the night.  

I waited until around midnight to slip out of the campsite, squinting through the leftover haze of the battle. I could barely see, but I couldn’t risk bringing a light. If someone mistook me for part of an enemy raid, I wouldn’t make it out alive.

It was honestly dangerous enough as it was, but I had to see Yuki. Even if I had no reason to, I wanted to believe that he was looking for me, too. So, I hid in a clump of tall grass I scanned the ruined battlefield. Burnt patches of grass and broken arrows dotted the blackened landscape, and I couldn’t help but grimace.

At least, until I spotted the unmistakable movement of a red uniform in the distance. Even from the span, I could tell that it was Yuki. I breathed a sigh of relief, just glad that he had come out after all.

I revealed myself soon after, and our eyes met. His kept his gaze locked on mine as he approached, and I had no choice but to do the same.

“Come with me, ___.” He reached out his hand, and I took it wordlessly, ducking into the pampas grass so we could avoid detection.

When we reached a thicker group of trees, he let go of my hand. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, but I somehow couldn’t find the words. Yuki seemed just as lost as we stared at each other in silence. The night of the festival seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was the same pair of eyes I was staring into.

He spoke first. “You’re Nobunaga’s - what?”

“I’m a chatelaine for the Oda forces,” I explained quietly, my lips twisting slightly.

He raised a brow as if it was surprising. “Chatelaine? You? Then why are you here instead of the castle?”

It was a fair question, but the anger and hurt in his eyes left me speechless.

“You-are you Nobunaga’s woman?”

My face contorted. “What?”

“I can’t believe he’d bring his lover onto the battlefield like that!’ He scoffed. “What a fool!”

I put out a hand and shook my head as he rose a brow. “Wait for a second, Yuki- I’m not his lover!”

As my anger rose, the dam of my emotions burst, and I poured everything out to him.

“I came because I wanted to help the people of the Azuchi castle! I hate this fighting, but I wanted to do what I could to keep the people safe!” Losing steam, I began to trail off. “I just wanted to protect them, so...”

The warlords, the town, Yuki - everything in this time had grown to be important to me. I didn’t want harm to come to any of them, and that’s why I came.

“I see,” He mumbled. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

I didn’t want him to apologise like that. After all, Yuki had hurt himself more with the words he’d spoken.

“So, Yuki. You’re an enemy of the Oda forces.” I tried changing the subject, and judging the shift in his eyes, it worked.

“That’s right.”

“And your real name isn’t Yuki,”

“That’s right.” He nodded. “My real name is Yukimura Sanada, and I’m a soldier in the service of Lord Shingen.”

I recognised both of the names from the handbook I’d held onto so dearly since coming here -- a guide to the sengoku period’s hottest warlords. The thought made me a little embarrassed, but it still had continued to give me information, nonetheless.

Moonlight found its way through the trees to illuminate Yuki’s battle-weary face, and I pulled my lips into a line.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” I whispered, my heart sinking deeper when he just shook his head.

“It’s not a lie. I posed as a travelling merchant just to spy on the Oda forces so that we could defeat our sworn enemy, Nobunaga, in this battle and gather the remnants of Lord Shigen’s family and rebuild the Takeda clan so I can finally return to my homeland.”

My flustered heartbeat rang loudly in my ears as I processed the information.

“You’ve actually met my lord before,” Yuki said, gaining my attention once again.

“I have?” But, as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew what he was talking about.

“Shin.”I sighed out, already making the connection. “Shingen Takeda.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“And that’s the man you fight for?”

“That’s right. My life is his. I would be honoured to die for him in battle.”

His tone made his devotion and resolve crystal clear. He was completely serious. If this continued, he might not see another day. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I realised his inevitable fate.

“You weren’t in Echigo because of your travelling performing brothers, were you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I was with Nobunaga and one of his men doing a reconnaissance trip.”

“I see.” He smiled painfully. “I thought that story of yours sounded fishy.”

“So when we met near Honno-Ji, when we met in Azuchi, then at the teahouse in Echigo -- it wasn't a coincidence and it wasn’t strange, because we were both spying on the enemy.”

I hated the way he was looking at me, slightly teasing, as if the situation required nothing more than playful banter.

“Yuki-”

“Not Yuki,” He reminded me, his expression settling again. “I’ve always been Yukimura, your enemy.”

“Names don’t matter and we both know it. No matter if you choose to call yourself Yuki or Yukimura, I know you and you aren’t my enemy.”

His brows furrowed challengingly. “Then what am I?”

“You’re annoying! Even in the middle of battle you make my heart race and make me feel crazy with longing!”

Yuki’s face tinted red, the only evidence stuck in the moonlight hitting his face. “Uh-”

“You’re insensitive and tactless, but you’re also sweet,” I continued quietly, “You send my head spinning with a kiss… you make me feel so frustrated I can’t even think straight! You’re such a jerk!”

“You-”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met on the battlefield today. I felt like I might burst if I didn’t see you toni-”

“Stop!’

I looked at him with a determined gaze and furrowed brows. “I won’t!”

I’ve fallen so hard, it would only be a hindrance to pretend those feelings weren’t there.

“Don’t make that pitiful face,” he whispered.

“I can’t help it!”

His face contorted in pain, and he reached towards me. He pulled me into his arms and held me tightly, effectively stopping my words. My cheek was pressed against the cold armour encasing his chest, but I somehow still felt like I could hear his heartbeat; it was nearly as loud as my own.

“Yukimura,” I sighed out his true name in a whisper only he and I could hear as I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. Pleadingly, I gazed up at him until his lips finally met mine. After a day of seeing him only on the battlefield, his expression unfamiliar and his words even more so, I was happy to know that at least one thing still remained the same.

I couldn’t help but let out a moan as his lips moved fluidly against mine. We were kissing so frantically that I could barely breathe, but I didn’t dare think of stopping. All I did was hug him tighter and closer, praying for the moment to never end.

I moaned quietly, “Yuki-”

“___-”

His hands found my back in an intimate touch that had a wave of heat washing over me in seconds. I sincerely wished that time would stop as I opened my lips, hungry for more.

But, as a faint gasp left me, I felt him tense and pull away. He was as breathless as I was, but the look in his eyes was serious.

“You should go,” He whispered, “it’ll be dawn yet.”

I shut my eyes with a gulp. “You should already know my answer to that by now, Yuki.”

Though I knew he was right, neither of us even moved to let go. Yukimura might die tomorrow, and so might I, so for that reason, I decided to stay in his arms for as long as I could. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye just like that.

“Go,” He urged me softly, and my face crumpled with emotion.

“I won’t!”

His face tensed as he pushed out his words. “You- you fool!”

An intense but familiar heat glimmered in his eyes, and in an instant, he was pushing me down onto the soft grass.

“You’re a real fool,” He breathed, “But so am I.”

Our noses were barely touching, our faces so close that I could read the painfully sad emotions in Yukimura’s eyes with crystal clarity. I reached out without thought to stroke his cheek, my chest tensing as I whispered his name.

“Yukimura-”

The name made him flinch as if suddenly didn’t want to hear it.

“___.”

But the sound of my name leaving his lips made my heartstrings hurt. Then we kissed again, desperately, exchanging breaths as I let out a soft moan.

Yukimura’s knee parted my kimono and came to rest between my thighs, and in that moment I decided that all I needed was him. Be it an elixir, his touch instantly melted my worries away and touched my heart so passionately that I wondered if I’d ever even been shown such a thing before in the first place.

I wanted him to touch me and hold me until I forgot about everything else.

Ignoring the location and the pain the battle at dawn would bring, I abandoned my senses as our kisses grew more and more desperate. He made love to me that night under the stars, and it was surely something that I would never forget as long as I lived.

Too far gone to even speak, we shared our last words through our penetrating gazes before we gave into the blistering heat.

I’d said goodbye to him that night with nothing but fear. Fear for him, fear for me, fear for the Azuchi warlords, fear for the Takeda forces. And in those moments I truly realised how lucky I was to live in a time where war wasn’t constant, and death wasn’t always looming over. The connections I’d made in this time had been short-lived so far, but they were undeniably strong, and that alone broke my heart when I thought about losing a single one of them.

It especially broke my heart when I woke up the morning, exactly where I’d been just hours before, but down one person. My naked body had been carefully wrapped in my kimono, and my head was lying on top of a thick undercoat that undeniably belonged to Yuki

I could still feel his warmth on my body. He had just been lying next to me, his arm around my waist and his head just above mine. We fell asleep together, so why -

I swallowed my thoughts as I whispered to myself sorrowfully, “Why aren’t you here, Yukimura?”

My voice cracked and echoed through the trees and the predawn air. I understood why he left, I really did, but the weight in my chest only sunk deeper as the seconds ticked away. I would probably never see him again, and that was most likely why he left. It would have been hard for both of us, but he had been kind — too kind.

I stood up shakily to put my clothes on and head back to the Oda forces camp, hoping I would be able to slip in again without anyone noticing.

My situation was hard to read. It was confusing for even me, someone who was at the centre of it. But, there was one thing I knew for sure; I might be Yukimura’s enemy, but he wasn’t mine. I could barely pretend anymore.

You made me love you, so there’s no just leaving me behind.

After all, he still hadn’t told me what he said he needed to after the festival, and I promised I would wait for him. I wouldn’t dare break a promise that happened at a time like that, so it was just more of a reason to stay.

The bare thought had a cloud of emotions swirling through my chest, but I pushed them down with a harsh bite on my lip. I ignored the tears coming to my eyes and the thoughts rising in my head as I continued to walk towards the dawning light.

— 

Leaving ___ asleep peacefully under the trees, Yukimura made his way back to the campsite. But as he walked through the burned and bloodied grass, his heart couldn’t help but yearn for the woman he’d left behind. He couldn’t help but think about the way she had looked, uncharacteristically serene in slumber, her face relaxed and her lips curved up in a smile that was ever so small. He had pressed one last kiss to her cheek as he etched her face into his memory, knowing full well that there was a low chance they would ever meet again.

He then turned away, forcing himself to not look back as he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to part from her again.

His lips pursed slightly as he battled his thoughts. And in a silent, final voice, he whispered, “I’ll never love another woman again.”

She had been the only woman he’d ever bonded so deeply with; found so much comfort in, and he knew that it would be difficult to find another person that would ever make him feel the same.

“I don’t want anyone if I can’t have her.”

His expression was blank, but as his footsteps grew heavier, so did the ache in his heart.

[serenzippity]

Cold War

Words: 3,303 Member/Pairing: Monsta X, Jooheon/OC, Wonho/OC, Minhyuk/Hyungwon, Kihyun/I.M Genre: Alternative Universe, inspired by “All In” Warning(s): mentions of drug-use (the flower from “All In”), slight implications of violence, language

Book One - Chapter Four

July 31st, 2018

It was hard going about my day as if nothing had changed within me. Every single one of my senses was heightened to the point that it gave me a raging headache by the time I tucked into bed at night. The pounding in my head lasted for hours until I could finally shut my eyes and try to act like everything was wholly normal. 

While I hated the painful side effect, the increased vision and reflexes were welcomed. I was quick and light on my feet, getting orders out at a rapid pace during the day. At night I was lifting boxes easier and processing my stock with a keen eye. I felt stronger, borderline daring as if I could take over the world. 

The flower also gave me a new consciousness that helped to reign in my constant anger and paranoia. It was almost addicting how carefree I felt when the saccharine sweet voice whispered in my ear. I hadn’t seen any of the X-Clan members since the ritual, but every morning I was roused by the sound of padded feet and whispered goodbyes. The flower gave me increased hearing, and I was now wholly privy to Jooheon sneaking out in the early hours of the morning. Rather than get angry at the revelation, the flowery voice in my head lulled me back to sleep and promised me that Jooheon meant no harm to my sister and me. 

It was like the dark voice inside my head was effectively silenced and I was thankful for the respite. 

I was exceptionally thankful for the silence during moments that tested my total resolve. The last two days had been filled with rowdy men and the promise of eventual graduation from training. All of the specializations were close to discharging groups of trainees into society, and somehow that gave them all big heads that could block out the sun. Everyone was excited and teeming with anticipation, all of which made my job harder. 

I was thankful for the silence when a group of prissy medical trainees was demanding specialized rations of food and testing my every nerve. I was thankful for the silence when some political trainees demanded to see my license and permits. I was especially thankful when two military trainees tried to proposition me for the night.

The town was in an uproar, but the beautiful petals of the flower muffled my ears so I couldn’t hear the droning. 

-x-

I was clearing the tables from the dinner rush when I heard the door open. “We are closed,” I called out, silently praying that the late customer would simply leave and disregard the signage on the door. We weren’t closing for another hour, but I was hoping for an early night in because the pounding behind my eyes was growing. 

“We aren't here for service.”

The voice as deep and familiar, and I turned to meet the smirking faces of Hyunwoo and Changkyun. They were a welcomed sight and I appraised them with a large grin. 

“Don’t tell anyone I’m closing early,” I said with a wink, ushering them to the bar and pouring three glasses of left-over rationed water. I handed the cups off to them and we all cheered each other before drinking greedily. Changkyun was still in his trainee uniform, bright eyes and vibrant in a way that had my heart clenching for him. Hyunwoo looked less pristine in a flour smacked shirt that hugged his every muscle. He still had a bit of remnant powder on his face and he looked tired. “What can I do you for boys?” I asked, taking the final gulp of my water and putting the glass in the automated cleanser.

Hyunwoo finished his glass, sliding it forward for me to take with a lazy smile. “I just wanted to see how you are holding up?”

“Can’t stay long,” Changkyun said with a sly look, “but we wanted to make sure you didn’t lose your mind yet.”

I couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh into the empty restaurant. It felt good to laugh genuinely for once and I was thankful that Changkyun was the one to draw it out. “I lost my mind a long time ago,” I giggled as I relaxed against the bar. “But overall I feel fine. I do keep getting a headache by the end of the night. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” said Hyunwoo. “That means that the flower is working. It will go away eventually.”

“Eventually,” I mocked with a jest, and Hyunwoo smiled wider at my joke. As promised they both didn’t stay long. One glass of water was drunk and a few jokes were shared between us. It was strange to feel at ease around the two considering how apprehensive I was when I had first met them.

Changkyun was slowly becoming a soft spot and I could feel my affection for the young boy grow. He was so innocent yet so wise at the same time. Everything about him exuded wonderment as if he saw our world not as it is, but how it could be. Hyunwoo, on the other hand, was wholly wise and yet so kind. He was warm in an almost paternal way that allowed me to open up to him easily.

Normally my mind would be screaming at me to put my guard up. It would be telling me to not trust them because nefarious deeds are often hidden by seemingly good intentions. However this wasn’t a normal circumstance, and my head was muffled by soft blue petals that told me to trust them.

And so I did. 

-x-

August 2nd, 2018

Like clockwork, the bell of the shop dinged just as I was wiping down my final table. Taking the dirty rag in my hand, I turned to tell the customer off. However, the words died in my throat when the literal bane of my existence strolled through the threshold with a borderline arrogant gait.

“Jooheon,” I said curtly, returning to my closing chores as he strode to the bar and took his usual seat. 

“Jae,” he replied, watching me with sharp eyes as I flitted around and prepped to close. Soon enough the till was closed and the floor was clean, the silence stretching between us. Throwing my apron in the back I grabbed my keys and bag, giving him a raised brow in question. 

“Would you like to join us again tonight?” Simple and to the point, Jooheon left the proposition hanging in the air. I internally battled with myself on the pros and cons of joining them again. The headaches were the only major negative effect, but I could also subtly feel my body screaming for a fix of the flower. Hyunwoo told me that the effects would eventually fade away, but was it worth partaking in again if I could get another fix? The heightened abilities were nice, but was this whole thing addictive?

I had seen what happens when someone becomes addicted to an altering substance. Hell, I’d sold and contributed to many peoples addictions to the bottle. I always told myself I would never be dependent on anything like that, not only for my sake but also for the sake of Mina growing up. 

Would partaking in the flower cause me to break that promise? Was it even worth finding out?

“Tempting,” I drolled as I moved towards the door, Jooheon hot on my heels. “But I think I will pass. I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing. Changkyun, Hyunwoo, and I want to extend the offer.”

“Is that so?” I questioned as we stepped out into the warm night. Closing up completely, Jooheon and I started walking away from the row. We didn’t make it far before I stopped in my tracks, choosing to go the opposite direction before I could change my mind. “Tell them I said thank you, but I think I will just go home for the night.”

“Get back safe, Jae.” He gave me a small smile before turning on his heel and walking in the direction of the village’s edge.

“Jooheon,” I called out into the still darkness. He turned to look at me, continuing to walk backward and getting further away with each step. 

“Yeah?”

“Promise me two things. One, Mina never finds out about the flower.” He paused at the mention of my sister. Slowly nodding, I could see his eyes flash and his shoulders tense. It was as if the mere mention of her turned the annoyingly intelligent man into a shy schoolboy. “Second,” I said moving away and into the night, “Stop leaving your shoes messily by the front door. If I trip on them one more time I’ll set them on fire.”

I didn’t stay long enough to see his reaction, choosing to take the path home and promptly passing out from exhaustion and the pounding headache.

Sure enough, the next morning there was a dirty pair of men's shoes tucked away by the front door. 

-x-

August 5th, 2018

I was definitely feeling the absence of the flower by the time the tenth day rolled around. I felt normal in an almost odd way. There were weights on my shoulders and feet, slowly dragging me down and making me sluggish. To others, I looked like I was moving normally, but I felt like a snail. The only positive was when my hearing returned to normal. I was no longer roused by Jooheon sneaking out in the morning, rather the alarm on my watch was my wake up call. I couldn’t hear the chatter of customers vividly, nor were colors any brighter. 

I had effectively returned to normal and my body was craving the blue petals.

My suspicions had been confirmed, and I was thankful that I didn’t succumb to the addictive temptation.

The morning of my tenth day was hotter than all the others. Humidity and heat mingled together to coat the whole village in a layer of sweat. Men, women, and trainees trudged to work miserably under the glare of the sun. Silently like zombies, we all moved in tandem, going about our bleak lives in service to the Jeongs.  

It took me longer to get to the restaurant than usual. My slow footsteps were emphasized by the drops of sweat from my brow and I could already tell that today was going to be a miserable one. 

My negative prediction was proven to be true when I saw Jooheon pacing outside the door like a man possessed. He had a crazed look in his eye and I was almost apprehensive to approach him. I was close to turning around and heading home, but before I could move he saw me and called out.

“Jae! I need your help!” He rushed forward and took hold of my wrist to drag me closer to the door as if it would get me moving faster. I retched out of his hold, giving him a glare that had him slightly stepping away. 

Placing my key in the lock, I gave him a once over and took in his frazzled appearance. He looked anxious and rushed, something that greatly contrasted from his nonchalant persona. “You better not have done anything stupid Jooheon,” I hissed, turning the lock and making my way inside with him hot on my heels. 

Before I could even get my bearings he was slamming a pile of notes on the counter. “I need a gun.”

I hesitantly took the notes, counting the sheer amount of them with strangely curious fingers. “You want something nice, huh?” He shook his head quickly, avoiding my suspicious eyes. I was so close to rejecting the offer based on the sheer amount of knowledge I had on the boy, but the money was too good and it would help Mina and I pay the rent for the next few months easily. “I may have something, but it could take a few days.” Pocketing the money, I made a mental note on what to ask my supplier for. 

“I can’t wait for a few days. Just give me two of what you have now.” The urgency in his voice took me back.

I looked at him skeptically, contemplating what exactly he would be planning. “I’m going to be pissed off with whatever you are planning on doing, aren’t I?”

“Probably.” He glanced towards the door, willing it to remain closed so he could be in and out quickly. Flitting between the door and me, Jooheon’s anxiety was rolling off him in waves. 

Narrowing my eyes, I asked him the one question that was plaguing me. “Is Mina involved in whatever you are about to do? Because if she is you know I won’t hesitate to kill you.” The last words came out with a dark growl.

“Absolutely not.” He said it with such resolve that I almost, almost believed him. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the allure of the money. Taking the notes, I stuffed them away before heading down to the storage room. Grabbing two handguns, I brought them up and slid them to him in a small black bag. Just as he slung it over his shoulder the first two customers of the day strolled in, no doubt trying to find an escape from the heat. 

Jooheon didn’t say anything, choosing to simply run out of the restaurant with haste, earning a glare from the few customers that got in his way. I didn’t have time to chase after him or do anything else before the filling of tables took all my concentration away. Throughout the day any spare thought I had was focused on Jooheon and his suspicious actions, but I couldn’t do anything without looking complicit or suspicious. After all, I was the one who sold him the weapons.

The lunch rush came and went in a flurry. I welcomed the small gap between lunch and dinner, resigning myself to tidy up and make sure I wouldn’t get too behind once the dinner patrons came in. It was monotonous, as every day usually was, but it was a good distraction from Jooheon’s sketchy behavior a few hours prior. 

“Sweeping? Check. Mopping? Check. Rinsing down the bar?” I checked the water rations of the restaurant and saw plenty of water left over. “To-do,” I hummed and set to the task. Between the gushes of water from the handheld hose, the door opened and I didn’t notice the patron come and sit at the bar. 

“Jae,” they whispered, causing me to jump about a foot in the air. 

“Holy shit!” I dropped the hose, splashing water all over my clothes and the floor. I was started by the onslaught of cold water, but all that went out the window when I saw the distress on Minhyuk’s face. He had dirt dusted over his cheeks and they were streaked with dried tear tracks. His eyes were red and puffy, practically screaming at me that he had been crying.

“Are you okay?” There was a genuine concern in my voice, something that even surprised me. But the shaking of his shoulders brought out that maternal instinct that gravitated towards Mina and, lately, Changkyun. 

“Jooheon told me that I c-could come here if I needed help.” His voice sounded defeated, almost broken and each word was a glass shard in my chest. 

“He said that?” Looking around, he simply nodded his head as fresh tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “I mean, sometimes. I can get you something that you… yeah—”

Cutting me off he leaned in closer, practically leaning over the bar. “Can you get me rations? Or do you only have weapons?”

“I have both.” The question took me off guard as Minhyuk was one of the last people I’d expect to come… buying. 

“Gas? Do you have gas rations?” Urgency swam behind his eyes, and for the second time today I was questioning if I should tell a customer yes or no. The X-Clan were proving to be the total bane of my existence. 

“Y-yeah I do, but they are easily traceable so I don’t usually sell them.” He looked absolutely defeated as if I took any and all hope from him. He leaned back on the stool, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. There was a complete cloud over him that seemed to even dull his bright hair and eyes. It was at this moment that I saw the similarities with Hoseok. 

Despite being brothers, they looked relatively dissimilar. The only major indicator of their parentage was arguably the rare white of their hair and almost ethereal looks. However, now that I was seeing the younger up close and personal it was easier to see the little ticks and movements of his face that paralleled that of his insufferable older brother. They both had eyes that portrayed emotions like a television screen, flashing from one feeling to the next and displaying their state for all the world to see if one just took the time to look. 

I’d seen rage, disbelief, and curiosity in Hoseok’s eyes. I’d also seen them blown out with euphoria. This time around I was seeing the other Lee brother hang his head in disappointment with pain swimming through the dark irises. It was something that I knew I didn’t want to see again. 

I let out a tired sigh and mumble, telling him to stay put before hanging up a closed sign, locking up, and heading down to the storage room for the second time that day. The cold room welcomed me with frosty arms and I discreetly wished that the X-Clan would leave me in peace for one damn day. 

I grabbed a ration of gas and, after double checking that it was full, headed back upstairs. In an instant, Minhyuk seemed to shed his forlorn attitude once he saw the ration in my hands. Like a mother handing her child a toy, I gave the ration to Minhyuk when he eagerly reached for it. 

Long gone was dull look in his eyes, rather it was replaced by a new determination that brought color to his cheeks. He looked angry and resolved all at once.

“Just take it and go.” He all but sprinted out of the store, getting stuck behind the locked door for a moment and fumbling with the lock. Rounding the bar I unlocked the door for him, but before he could leave I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at me. “Be careful, okay?” Once last fleeting nod and a curve of his lips were all he gave me before running out into the midday sun. 

As I watched him go I realized that the X-Clan was becoming a little too comfortable with me. In the span of ten days I’d seen Jooheon twice— not counting the nights he spent in my home—and three other members at least once. Granted I had a growing soft spot for Changkyun but the visit from Minhyuk was a shock because he and Hyungwon were arguably the last people I expected to come to me. We’d exchanged only a few words, virtually none up until the morning after I first took the flower with them. He and the tall, beautiful boy were usually in their own world together. 

The sheer fact was that they were arguably growing bolder and bolder just by coming to me so casually. But I knew with every fiber of my being that this increasingly bold attitude would end up coming back to bite me in the ass. 

Despite knowing how precarious of a situation I was in, why was a feeling exhilarated?

A/N: So this chapter is shorter and boring, but it leads up to the climax of the next two chapters. AND THEN after that, we get into the fallout and the end of Book One. I’m so excited! As always, thank you to my amazing beta and soulmate @wonheonie for helping me with this chapter and keeping me going. If there is anything, in particular, you’d like to see happen send me a message. Also, please let me know how you are liking this series, it’s my baby but I honestly feel like I’m losing inspiration. I keep rewriting the ending and Book Three and I’ll end it there so I’m not fishing for reviews. 

[eternityunicorn]

At My Mercy: Part One

Author: eternityunicorn 

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC, Klaus Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violence, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: Elijah and Klaus Mikaelson are joint business partners of the seedy variety. They run an organization that indulges in slavery, particularly enslaving and selling their captured enemies to the highest bidder at special monthly auction. However, when the ethereal beauty, Eternity, ends up in their possession, the Original brothers decide she’s too rare a creature to hand over to anyone else. Therefore, they keep her for themselves, subjecting her to all kinds of indulgences. With time, one brother makes the mistake of falling in love with the rare beauty. But what happens when new slaves to be auctioned go missing? Is Eternity involved?

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

AUTHOR’S COMMENTARY: This fic a replacement of sorts for my previous fic ‘Brothers’. Therefore, I  hope that anyone who was reading that fic will like this incarnation just as much! 

———————————————————————————————————

There were no two brothers whom were closer than Elijah Mikaelson and his young brother Niklaus Mikaelson. They had the strongest sibling bond out of all the Mikaelson children. 

Together, they took command of the supernatural community, ruling it with an iron fist from their chosen headquarters of Mystic Falls. To those loyal, they received much benevolence and privilege. However, to those who dared to oppose them, if they were captured - and they always were by the bounty hunters they employed - they were subjected to a life of servitude, as part of the two brothers’ business venture. 

They ran an organization called Slave Row. Here, they auctioned off their captives to the highest bidder to live as their new master’s slave, forcing their captives to submit to the wills of their owners. To say that business was booming was an understatement. People came from all over to bid on the newest captives, making Elijah and his little brother very rich men, on top of being powerful ones.

Once a month, there was an auction, where their captives were paraded around naked and in chains to further humiliate them, before they were sold off to their new masters. Niklaus typically ran the show, while the older Original watched from the shadows. He didn’t take the level of enjoyment from selling their enemies into slavery as his little brother seemed to. No, he simply stood on the sidelines to ensure everything went smoothly, while his brother took on hosting duties.

Yes, everything was perfect, or at least, that was what Niklaus would say. 

Truth be told, Elijah was only involved in this cruel and tyrannical business, because he wanted to protect his family from their enemies and in his opinion, subjecting their captured foes to slavery was still kinder than simply killing them. Though personally, the older Original hadn’t the taste for either. However, he tolerated it so long as it sent the correct message to others who dared to oppose them as the ruling family.

Then one day, there came a most usual request for a private audience with the Kings of the Supernaturals. Elijah and Niklaus permitted it, meeting in dinning hall of their family manor with a mysterious, hooded stranger, who came with a rare treasure indeed. They didn’t ask for the name of the hidden bounty hunter, as it didn’t matter to them, despite the fact that neither of them having employed the man. Instead, they focused on the deal the shadowy figure was wanting to make with them.

While Niklaus talked price with the mystery hunter, the older Original was transfixed by the beautiful creature he had bound and chained beside him. 

Sitting on the floor at the hunter’s feet was a pale woman with obscenely long white hair and large, almond shaped sapphire eyes. She sat there tensely, looking around at each of the men without an ounce of submission, only a great and fiery defiance, despite being completely naked. She did not fear.

Elijah had heard of this rare creature from rumors that had spread far and wide across the supernatural community. She was a fierce warrior, if he recalled correctly, taking on those who dared to harm the innocent, particularly the unaware human race. She had left quite the trail of bodies and a great sense of fear in the supernaturals, specifically the vampires, who needed to drink human blood to survive. At first, he had thought she was only a myth, a story to protect humanity, but it seemed she was, in fact, quite real.

When their eyes met, the older Mikaelson felt as though his breath had been stolen away. The connection was immediate and profound. At least, it was for him...and there was a hint of familiarity in it too. A curious thing, as he was certain he had never met this woman before. How strange.

“My brother and I are very interested in the ‘White Goddess’, who has been terrorizing the supernatural community for quite some time,” Niklaus was saying to the bounty hunter. “We shall reward you handsomely for bringing her to us, good sir, and with our deep gratitude.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the bounty hunter replied. “I do hope you enjoy her well.”

The younger Mikaelson grinned widely, while gazing at the ethereal beauty, “Oh, we shall enjoy her greatly. Won’t we, Brother?”

Elijah turned his attention to the two other men, pretending that he hadn’t been completely captivated flawlessly. He smirked, “Yes, I do believe we shall.”

“Excellent,” the hunter replied. “A word of warning, before I go: do not remove the gold bracelets upon your newest acquisition’s wrists, as they are the only things that will keep her from tearing you both apart.” 

“Duly noted, my good man,” Niklaus said. “We will be sure to heed your warning. Here is your payment.”

The hybrid snapped his fingers and a servant approached with a chest of money to give to the bounty hunter, which the mystery man took without hesitation. The hunter rose from his seat with his payment. With a final nod, he made his exit, leaving behind the exquisite beauty for the Original brothers to do with as they pleased.

“So, Elijah, what do you think we should do with her?” Niklaus asked, gazing hotly at the pale woman. “Do you think we should sell her as we have most of our other captives? Or do you think we should keep her for ourselves? It has been a while since we have had slave of our own, and never have we had one so rare as this exotic creature. What say you, Brother?”

The older Original thought about it, but he didn’t have to think on it long. There wasn’t any way in hell he was going to give this strange and fierce woman away. He was already possessive of her, to a frightening degree. No, she belonged to them - to him, he decided.

“I say we keep her as our own,” answered Elijah with a devious smile. “It has been a while since we have kept a slave for our own amusement and as you’ve said, she is too rare to simply give away. Yes, she should be ours and ours alone.”

Niklaus grinned pleasantly, getting up from the table and going over to where their new plaything sat. He quickly fisted her hair and yanked the woman’s head back sharply. “Do you hear that, pet? You belong to the Mikaelson brothers now,” he chuckles down at her. “We shall enjoy all your splendors immensely, I’m sure.”

“Yes, and why not begin right away, Brother?” Elijah stood gracefully, buttoning his suit jacket deftly as he did. “I don’t know about you, Niklaus, but I should like to sample her wonders immediately.”

His little brother agreed, “I had the very same thought. On your feet, love.”

The ethereal beauty allowed the hybrid to help her rise to her feet, but neither Original was prepared for what came next. The second she was at her full height, the feisty little woman attacked. First, by grabbing hold and twisting Niklaus’s hand that held her until he was forced to let go and then gave him a strong kick to the stomach, sending him sailing across the room. Then she went at Elijah himself, throwing a series of punches and kicks at him, all of which he barely was able to maneuver away from or block. However, he did manage to evade her. 

They were equally matched, something that the older Original knew wouldn’t be so, if those golden trinkets weren’t holding her back. She was fierce indeed, even with them keeping her subdued, and it was that fire in her, that defiance that made him hard. It called to his baser self that demanded he make her submit, giving him a burst of strength to eventually overtake her. 

With one swift move, Elijah had the fighting woman pinned to the table with her throat in one hand and with her wrists in the other, as he pulled her arms over her head, subduing her. He stared down at her with a look of dark desire. “Oh, I am going to enjoy breaking you, Sweetheart,” he told her, his face close to hers. 

“We will see about that,” she spat in return, defiant to the end.

“You will be made to submit, by my hand, one way or another,” he murmured. “There isn’t another out there that I haven’t been able to break. You will be no different.”

Then Elijah acted on impulse and kissed the rare woman passionately, prying her mouth open with his tongue and diving inside to taste her throughly. She tasted sweet and he could see himself becoming addicted to her very quickly.

“Easy, Brother,” chuckled Niklaus as he rejoined him.

Immediately, the older Original pulled his mouth away from the ethereal beauty’s, collecting himself swiftly before his baby brother could notice the effect she was having on him - and he didn’t just mean that in a sexual way either. If he were perfectly honest with himself, he was intrigued by this rare jewel in every way.

“Forgive me, I might have gotten a little carried away,” Elijah replied with a small smirk, while he still held the woman in subjugation. “Shall we get started?”

The hybrid nodded eagerly, “Yes, but I believe a change of plans in in order. I want the first crack at her. I owe her for sending me flying across the room.”

The older Mikaelson laughed lightly, agreeing to his brother’s terms, before shouting a request to one of the servants to bring him a collar and leash, along with a pair of shackles. Once he had the items in hand, he asked Niklaus to do the honors, while he continued to hold their new acquisition down. She struggled a bit, but it wasn’t as heartfelt as before, leaving Elijah to wonder why that was.

Once the shackles were in place and the collar was secured around her neck, the older Original released his hold on her. He stepped away while grabbing onto the leash that had been attached to the collar and tugging her up off the table. 

“I’m going to enjoy tearing you both apart,” the resilient and bold woman grinned wolfishly, as she stood upright. 

Elijah looked at her, then his brother, whom had done the same at her audacity. They both smiled at each other, liking her boldness. The bolder the captive, the more fun it was to break the captive. Yes, she was going to be quite the treat, especially with how she started at them directly in the eye without any sense of fear or submission. 

“I wouldn’t threaten those who hold you at their mercy, love,” Niklaus replied. “That isn’t a very wise thing to do.”

“No, it is not...Miss?” Agreed Elijah. “What is your name, Sweetheart?”

The ethereal beauty looked at him and replied readily, “Eternity.”

Niklaus reached over then and grabbed hold of her chin, pulling her face to look at him instead. “A lovely name, for a lovely woman,” he complimented her, before he kissed her with the same forceful passion Elijah had shown her. 

Eternity was more tense with the hybrid, but she didn’t put up much of a fight. The older Original looked on, feeling his blood heat at the sight, from both lust and an intense jealousy. The latter he knew he had no business to feel, but couldn’t help it. Yet, he kept it hidden away masterfully, as to not let his brother know just how under his skin this rare creature was. 

When Niklaus pulled away, he licked his lips and looked at his brother. “I can definitely see why you couldn’t wait to have a taste,” he said to him with a chuckle. “Come. Let us begin.”

To Be Continued....

———————————————————————————————————

Tag List: @elejah-wonderland @dendrite-lover @xanderling @inmylifeilovedthemall @x-memi12 @lalabluues @missnmikealson @esclisa @elizamonet @hawaiianohana31 @freshsuitcasewinnereagle @lolelijahishot @loulouisa @teekillerin @elejahforever

[tmarie82]

A Necessary Arrangement (Part Three)

A Desire and Decorum AU

Pairing: Ernest Sinclaire x MC (Ella Mills)

Book: Desire and Decorum (AU= Alternate Universe)

Word Count: ~2,100

Rating:  PG

Author’s Note: Another chapter of this AU, which I’m really enjoying writing!  Now we start meeting other characters and getting hints about Ernest’s past … with a visit from our favorite old crotchety Duke and his bubbly little wife!

You can read Part One and Part Two here.

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list.  You can find all of my fics here - MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~

Ella nestled in tighter against the cushions of the settee, perching her book upon her knee to rest in her line of sight.  The mid-morning sun streamed in through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, casting a ray of light across the pale skin of her hand and yellowed pages of the novel.  It was the second time this month she had read Defoe’s tale of Robinson Crusoe, yet her mind was enraptured by Crusoe’s struggle for survival yet again.

Life at Ledford Park has settled into a comfortable routine since the wedding.  Each morning Ella would rise with the sun, taking her tea and breaking her fast in the master chambers as she gazed out over the immaculate landscaping.  After she was dressed, if the weather permitted, she would escape outdoors to explore the gardens, sometimes alone and sometimes she would steal Briar away from her duties to keep her company.  After a turn about the gardens, Lady Ella would retire to the library to pour over the latest book she had plucked from the shelves until the time for luncheon was called.  Most often she had lunch by herself in the dining hall as Mr. Sinclaire was always either away on business during the day or would take lunch in his study.  She would rarely see any trace of her husband until dinnertime when he would finally make his appearance and keep her company.

Although it had taken several weeks of prodding and persistence, Ernest had finally begun to converse freely with his wife during their nightly meals together.  Of course he was rarely a man to show any emotion or favors, but Ella had come to look forward to their time together each evening and relished each glimpse of a smile from the forlorn man.  Each smile was hard won, yet that moment of lightness was well worth the effort … one could almost forget Ernest’s sullen demeanor upon the sight of his warm smile or sound of his deep laughter.  During their conversing, Ella had learned that her new husband was an avid explorer, yearning to stretch his legs and breathe in the open air outside at every given opportunity.  Similar to Ella, he was also a proponent of reading in his spare time and had recommended some of his favorite books … most recently his treasured childhood favorite, Robinson Crusoe.

This particular morning Ella had savored the solitude of her walk and time in the library, resting her mind and conversation skills for the upcoming event.  For after luncheon she was to accompany Ernest on their first public outing together as a married couple to the London society’s most prestigious countryside pastime, the races.

~~~

Ella tugged again at the hat poised atop her coiffed updo, struggling to keep it upright as it slid downwards at every bouncing bump of the carriage on the road.  She heard a chuckle across the seat from her, her eyes flicking up to find Ernest staring at her with amusement.  She gave him a tepid smirk back.  “Yes?” She questioned politely.

Ernest shook his head and looked back out the window, trying to suppress a grin.  “Nothing … you just seem nervous, I suppose.”  

Ella scoffed, straightening her hat once more and sitting upright, jutting her chin out proudly.  “I most certainly am not nervous.”  She replied bluntly, turning to look out at the countryside passing along outside.  “Perhaps it is you who are nervous, my lord.”  She quipped back playfully, continuing the witty banter the pair conversed in so frequently.  

If Ella was completely honest, she both loved and despised this sardonic pattern of discourse that she and her husband had fallen into.  For one she looked forward to hearing what clever inquiry or response he would throw at her each day, always challenging her and keeping her engaged in the dialogue.  On the contrary, all the back and forth did not answer the questions that had plagued her since that dreary September evening.  Where was this charade of a marriage headed, for certainly it had not yet led Ernest Sinclaire to her bed ... and, more importantly, what was her husband hoping to gain from this most unusual union?

Upon arrival at the race track, Ernest escorted Ella in a languid stroll towards the stables, pointing out a robust chestnut steed from Edgewater near the front and a svelte speckled grey mare a few stalls down representing Ledford Park.  Ella approached the towering Edgewater horse timidly, lifting her hand to stroke his nose gently.  She glanced back over her shoulder to Ernest with a soft smile, admiring the warmth behind his eyes as they met her own.  “How many horses will race in total?”

“Eight.  Representing the various houses in the region.” He replied simply.

“Hmm …” Ella pondered, moving from the large brown steed to the smaller grey horse of her husband’s house and allowing it to smell the skin on her dainty hand. “Well, my husband … it seems that between the two of us our odds are fairly good, wouldn’t you say?”  She stared into the horse’s dark eyes, suppressing the urge to glance back and gauge his reaction straight away.  

A slight smirk swept the corners of his mouth upwards, his eyes dancing with amusement when she finally met his gaze again.  “I quite agree, Lady Ella … it would appear the odds are in our favor.”  He looked down at his boots and ran his fingers through his tumbling curls, fighting away the tinge of pink tickling his cheeks.  Once he had composed himself he stood upright again, bending his arm towards her in invitation.  “Shall we, Wife?”

The two arrived at their seats under the shade of the tent, the first ones to sit in the area.  Ella perched herself upon the stiff-backed chair and surveyed the passers-by, occasionally greeting various acquaintances who stopped by.  It had been so long since she had attended the races, and she had forgotten the excitement of the hustle and bustle prior to the starting gunshot as people chatted and searched for their seats.  Her father used to love to take her to the races as a child after her mother had passed, she recalled fondly.  Unfortunately their little adventures at the race track had ceased after Countess Henrietta had entered their lives ...

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite cousin, Mr. Sinclaire!” A high-pitched voice rang from their left.  The couple turned to find the exclaimer approaching slowly, a petite lady with golden curls twirled around her face waddling slowly and clutching her rounded abdomen under the fabric of her dress.  She smiled jovially, and Ella felt herself immediately drawn to the beautiful young woman.  

Ernest stood up to greet her coldly, stepping down to take her hand dutifully and place a quick peck to her gloved knuckles.  “Felicity.  What a surprise.”  Ella watched her husband curiously, searching for any clue as to why he was greeting his own flesh and blood so formally.  He turned back to Ella with a blank expression on his face, taking her hand and escorting her forward to present her properly.  “May I present my wife, Lady Ella. Ella, this is my cousin Lady Felicity Holloway- er, I mean Duchess Felicity Richards.”  

Felicity squealed and took Ella’s hand in her own, bouncing slightly with excitement.  “Of course!  I have so looked forward to meeting you, Ella.  I was so disappointed to hear that you two had decided to hold such a small, private wedding ceremony.  I do so love weddings, don’t you?!? But I suppose it is an awfully romantic theory to wed quietly, to not bother with the formalities of a wedding and just be unable to resist any longer.  Ahhh!” She ended her rant with a wistful sigh, clutching her hands dramatically over her heart.

Ella stood stunned for a moment, mouth agape as she absorbed Felicity’s rambling diatribe.  When she finally decided that the young woman seemed friendly enough, she plastered her most courteous smile on her lips before she replied.  “What an honor to meet you, Felicity.  I dare say my husband has told me little of his family thus far.”

“Well Felicity is a distant cousin, many generations back.  Our paths had not crossed many times … until recently, that is.” Ernest grumbled, his former pleasant spirits quite obviously forgotten.

“I just think it’s so lovely when family can be reunited.”  Ella interjected sweetly, trying to lighten the dismal mood her husband had cast upon the interaction.  “How lucky you both are.”

“What is this about luck, I hear?” A gruff tone echoed from behind Felicity, finally presenting itself in the form of a middle-aged gentleman.  “Felicity, I hope you have not been spreading any of that poppycock about good fortunes and luck before the races, my dear.”  The man grasped her elbow firmly and tucked his own arm through it, standing tall with a solemn face while studying the couple opposite them.  

“Oh no, my love …” Felicity chimed, nestling beside him warmly while continuing to rub her belly with her spare hand.  “Ella, allow me to introduce my husband, Duke Tristan Richards of Karlington. And you remember Ernest, my dear … Ella and Ernest have just been married, you see.”

“Mmm hmm, so I had heard.  Sinclaire …” Duke Richard muttered his acknowledgment, his brows furrowed as he eyed Ernest with contempt.  His face brightened as he turned and his eyes fell upon Ella, leaning forward to give her a gracious bow of greeting.  “Lady Ella, it is such a pleasure.  I was happy to hear that Ernest here had finally decided to settle down, we were beginning to worry for him.  And to such a beautiful young woman …” the duke gave her a wicked smile and a wink as he leaned forward to take her hand in his, placing a slow kiss to her hand with a lingering breath as if he were inhaling her essence.

“L-l-likewise …” Ella stammered, quite taken aback by this bold older man.  Poor Felicity, she thought internally, saying a quick prayer that her own husband was at least pleasant to look upon despite his frequent moods.  

The two pairs stood staring at each other for a moment until Ella broke the awkward silence.  “So when are you expecting your little one, Felicity?”  

Felicity’s face lit up with excitement.  “Oh, we have a few more months until the baby arrives.”  She beamed up at her towering husband, nudging him fondly in the side.  “The duke here is quite certain it is a little boy, although I am hoping for a girl.”

“You’ve got to ensure the heir for the household, do you not Sinclaire?  Tick tock, tick tock.” Duke Richards teased in a gravelly voice.

Ella felt herself blush at the Duke’s insinuation, dropping her eyes quickly to prevent him from reading the truth in her eyes.  She glanced over at Ernest beside her, noticing his clenched fists and tight jaw … as if he were holding back the urge to spat in disgust.  Just then the trumpet sounded from the racetrack, breaking the tension to alert the crowd of the impending start of the race.

“Ahh … well, we should go find our seats, dear husband.  I do not want to miss the race!” Felicity trilled, tugging her husband’s arm and breaking the heated trance he was in.  

“Yes quite …” the duke agreed in a monotone voice. He turned to Ella and nodded his warm farewell.  “Lady Ella, it was an honor …” He then turned to Ernest and his stare ran cold.  “Sinclaire … I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.”

Ella curtsied in response, passing a shy smile to Felicity as the couple walked away to find their places.  When she turned around she found Ernest was already seated, glaring blankly out at the race track.  She sat down beside him, resting a hand on his knee to get his attention.  “Well that was a nice surprise!  I do so wish you would tell me more of your family.” She began, attempting to start a pleasant conversation with her sullen husband.

Ernest continued his unswerving gaze, his face set and staring far off as if he were in another world entirely.  Finally he glanced down at her hand upon his leg, gripping it gently and setting it on her own lap before placing his hands in his own.   “Let us just watch the races, Ella.  They’re about to begin.”

END

~~~~~~~~~~

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[safarikalamari]

Coincide - Chapter 11

Previous - Next

Chapter Summary: The tides change

Words: 1832

A/N: sad stuff ahead folks, i apologize in advance

-

AO3

or

It had been a few days since Race last saw Spot.

The few weeks following the trip to the beach, Race had figured out a way to see Spot every day. School was catching up with him however and as much as Race appreciated that scheduled aspect of his life, he needed to graduate.

His dance final loomed over his head, his stress driving him almost to the point of tears and it was then that he found himself on the way to the hospital. He just needed to not think about anything for a little while.

As usual, he entered Spot’s room without a knock, Spot insisting that he didn’t need to anymore. Yet, what Race saw made him wish he did.

A nurse was in the room, hooking Spot up to a machine and Race’s heart dropped. She glanced up from Spot, giving Race a half-hearted smile as she finalized the process, checking over Spot once more before she left.

“Told her you were coming,” Spot’s voice came out, raspy. “She said she’d explain everything when you’re done visiting if you want.”

Taking a small breath, Race came over to Spot’s bedside, taking hold of his hand. “What’s going on, Spot?” Race whispered, his eyes watering.

Spot smirked a little at this, his grip weak as he squeezed Race’s hand. “Gotta get a new heart. It’s kind of ironic when you think about.”

Race said nothing, bringing Spot’s hand up to his mouth and brushing his lips against his fingers. Race could feel a tear fall down his cheek, but he didn’t make a move to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Spot pushed himself up. “It’s gonna be okay, Race. Hell, maybe I’ll be able to love you even more with my new heart.”

Race tried to laugh at this, but all that came out was a small sob as he gripped onto Spot’s hand. “You’re guaranteed a heart?” he dared to ask.

Spot looked down then, a breath leaving him. “I’m at the top of the list, but it’s not for sure. Everything’s gotta be right and they don’t have one yet.”

Not wanting to hear any more, Race pulled Spot into a hug, apologies spilling out of his mouth.

“Race,” Spot’s voice was soft, his hand carding through Race’s hair. “You got nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault.”

“My first thought was what I would do without you,” Race muttered. “Not how scared you are, what you must feel like.”

Spot laughed a little at this, loosening Race’s hold so he could grab onto his face with both hands. “I’m okay,” Spot reassured, looking deep into Race’s eyes. “I’m not...I–”

Spot’s voice broke, the first of his tears running down in memorized trails. “God, I’m so happy I met you...that I got to love you. Race, I’m fucking terrified, but only because I don’t want to leave you too.”

Pressing their foreheads together, Spot and Race cried, embracing in between shuddered breaths and trailing hands. The months were not long enough, their time cut short, both wishing for the clock to turn back.

When their tears became little more than eyes glazed over, Race crawled onto Spot’s bed, the two laying on their sides and holding onto each other.

“I’m gonna make it through this, Race,” Spot spoke with finality. “Like hell am I going to miss your dance recital.”

Race’s first smile broke through and he kissed Spot as their hands tangled together. “I saved you a front row seat. Right next to Blink and Mush.”

“Perfect.”

It was Spot who led their conversation away from the darkness over their heads, distracting Race with stories that blurred the line between fiction and reality. As much as Race tried to keep his thoughts at bay, all he could do was silently curse the world as he studied all of Spot’s features.

The way he smiled, how his nose wrinkled just a little when he was deep in thought. Race wondered if this would be the last time or the first of many where he could admire all of Spot, his stomach twisting and turning with everything that had happened.

When the nurse came back to the room, Race was tempted to stay as he was, but he didn’t want to make a ruckus. Not with Spot like this. Without a care, the two shared a kiss that held the entire world and Race didn’t look away from Spot once until the door blocked his view.

“Will he die?” Race asked the nurse, turning from the door to look directly at her.

“I can’t say yes or no,” the nurse shook her head. “We’re doing all we can to get him a new heart as soon as possible.”

Race expected as much of an answer, remaining silent as the nurse looked on. He didn’t want to know other details of Spot’s condition.

With a nod, he made his way out of the hospital and sat down on the curb once outside. Digging his phone out of his pocket, Race dialed Mush’s number, his face wet with tears already.

Upon hearing Mush’s bright hello, Race broke down, unable to say much between his sobs.

“We’re on our way,” Mush reassured, his voice instantly calming Race down. “Stay on the line, okay, Race?”

Race nodded, then realizing Mush couldn’t see it and sighed. “Yeah. I’m here.”

The entire time Race waited for his friends, he listened to Mush’s reassurances, the optimism Mush had for Spot’s transplant. Whether it was just for his benefit or something else, Race appreciated the gesture and practically threw himself into Mush’s arms by the time Blink had parked his car in front of the hospital.

“Fuck, Mush,” Race sobbed into his friend’s shoulder. “You told me...you warned me…I should’ve...”

“Don’t,” Mush interrupted, stern and gentle. “Don’t regret everything you’ve had with Spot, Race.”

Holding Race by his shoulders, Mush tried to get Race to look at him, his eyes a fierce determination that reminded Race of their high school days.

“He’s brought you so much happiness, think about all the good times you’ve had together,” Mush urged. “You said he makes you feel different. Would you really want to forget all of that?”

“No,” Race whispered, staring at his feet.

Mush cupped Race’s face with one hand, wiping away some of the tears as Race tried to gain some bearing.

“I’m going to drive us back to the apartment. Blink will drive your car, okay?”

Sniffing, Race glanced up then, his eyes shifting between Blink and Mush. “But you can’t drive, Mush.”

Blink laughed a little at this and Race waited expectantly. “Mush just got his permit. We’ve been working on it.”

Race smiled then, throwing his arms around Mush. “Man, congrats, buddy.”

“Thanks. I hate it, but I can’t have the two of you driving me around forever,” Mush sighed, leading Race over to the passenger side of Blink’s car.

Handing his keys off to Blink, relief washed over Race and he eagerly climbed into the car, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep.

“We’ll talk more when you’re ready, okay?” Mush added as he started up the engine.

Race nodded, his eyelids already drooping and by the time Mush got them onto the road, everything went black.

~

Waking up to the sound of the TV, Race surveyed his surroundings with half-open eyes.

As he recognized Blink and Mush’s apartment, Race was beginning to remember the day he endured and his eyes trailed, noting his legs on Blink’s lap before he gave him a nod. When he received a short wave in return, Race glanced up, greeted by Mush smiling at him, an arm draped across his chest.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“It’s not fucking morning, is it?” Race mumbled, noting how dark the room was as he rubbed his eyes.

“No,” Mush laughed, shifting a little and causing Race to lift his head from his lap. “It’s almost midnight.”

Race let out a sigh of relief and set his head back down, somewhat curious to Blink’s apparent disinterest in all three of their positions.

“Wanna rub my feet, Blink?” Race teased, grinning when Blink frowned.

“Hell no.”

Yet, Blink made no move to push Race’s feet away from him and Race turned back to Mush. The events from earlier swarmed in his mind, questions overtaking every other thought.

“What are his chances?” Race asked quietly.

He saw how Mush’s eyes darted and he looked at the TV as Mush sighed.

“You probably heard it from one of the nurses already–”

“–Yeah, but what do you think? Did you mean what you said on the phone?”

Mush looked down, his usual expressive face stiff when Race turned back to him. Race had never seen Mush like this before and a chill ran down his spine.

“His chances are low. Hearts aren’t easy to get and there’s always another patient with higher priority.”

Race knew these words were coming, but it didn’t make them any easier to hear. He’d seen plenty on documentaries and movies. He just never imagined he’d be in the same scenarios.

“He’s a fighter,” Blink said as he picked at the arm of the couch.

Both Mush and Race turned to him, eyebrows raising as they waited for him to continue. Blink hardly got involved in personal discussions with the two of them, or if he did, it ended in some kind of argumentative teasing.

“Spot’s not going to let Race go that easily,” Blink stared at the two of them, as if it were obvious. “Spot will get that heart and he’ll be out of that hospital. He and Andrea will see to that.”

Race glanced at Mush, smiling at his confused expression before sitting up on the couch and adjusting so he could hug Blink.

“I see why you guys hug so much,” Blink joked before he gave an awkward hug in return, complete with the back pat which made Race laugh.

“Hey, I’m always here if you want one,” Race shrugged, choosing to remain in a seated position between his friends.

Race focused back on the TV as he noticed Blink exchanging a personal stare with Mush, letting the two have a moment before jumping to his feet.

“Do you have popcorn? I’m hungry.”

Blink and Mush grinned, getting up from the couch as well as Blink led the way.

“Let me do the honors. I make some amazing popcorn.”

“He really does,” Mush added, wrapping his arms around Blink’s waist and giving his neck a kiss. “I’ll make cocoa.”

Race couldn’t help admire his friends as they worked seamlessly in the kitchen, each guessing the other’s action as they set to cooking. He and Spot could be like this one day, with their own apartment, their own life. It lit a fire in Race’s heart and he pushed away all other thoughts except the one that told him Spot would survive whatever came his way.

[just-come-baek]

Chills, Scares, and Cold Sweat

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. a pinch of platonic Yoonmin and implied Kryber

Themes: smut | angst | haunted house!au

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Ghosts and demons don’t exist, so how bad can it really get? In the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies. Taehyung’s words, not mine.

Warnings: late BTS Halloween special! Scary! (Not really) Backseat smut!

Masterlist

Okay, chill, you got this, I delivered myself a mental pep talk, as I stood in front of the house, my grip tightened around the suitcase handle, head high. The sun had already descended behind the horizon, grey skies casting a spine-chilling aura, the thick fog only intensifying the effect, putting everyone into long-awaited Halloween's mood.

The last days of October are just like that; everyone is hyped about Halloween, preparing slutty costumes, throwing amazing, unforgettable parties, trick-or-treating, and, obviously, scaring the shit out of friends, sometimes even posting the horrendous pranks online.

This year, though, my Halloween was going to be different. Not necessarily better, but definitely not like all the previous ones. I mean... it's not an everyday occurrence to participate in a paranormal experiment. Or in other words, being locked up in a supposedly haunted house for a couple of days. Thankfully, they pay quite handsomely, and I seriously need this money.

What's the worst that could happen?

It's not like demons or ghosts or other spooky creations exist.

That’s what I call; easy money.

With lips pressed together in a thin line, back straightened, I made a confident step toward the house; only to shriek a second later when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Instantly, I turned around, my hands raised in a defensive manner, ready to attack whoever dared to touch and frighten me out of wits.

“Your backpack is so cute,” stated the man around my age, beaming, his boxy smile making everything brighter. “It has those cute kitten ears,” he added, his hands stretched, as if he wanted to touch it, “utterly cute.”

“Don’t sneak up on people like that,” I preached, my palm firmly pressed against my rib cage, my heart beating rapidly, as he almost put me through a severe heart attack. “Anyway,” I started dismissively, “are you participating in the, hmm... project as well?”

Smiling down at me from under his hood, he nodded, “of course, I’m Taehyung, and you are?” he introduced himself, his arm outstretched, so I could shake hands with him. Quickly, I greeted him and gave him my name, his wide beam never fading. “It’s gonna be so much fun, isn’t it?”

“It depends on what you’re into,” I promptly replied, giving him a faint smile, “if you like being conned and pranked, since this ‘experiment‘,” I didn’t hesitate to draw a quotation marks in the air with my fingers, “is obviously some kind of a sick hoax taken to a completely different level then yes, it’s gonna be a blast,” I grinned innocently, studying his expression.

“Oh,” he pouted slightly, “so you’re a disbeliever. Interesting,” Taehyung spoke, and I could feel his glance on me, as he looked at me from head to toe.

“What about you? Do you seriously believe in all of that crap?” I asked, my eyebrow cocked upwards, as I impatiently anticipated his reply. He’s something; if he really thinks that horror monsters are real, it’ll surely be interesting. “I mean... whatever is gonna pop out of nowhere must be staged.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen; in the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies.” Taehyung replied, shooting me another smile, as he rubbed his hands in excitement. “We probably should get inside, I think we’re late.”

“Right,” I agreed, and Taehyung quickly grabbed my suitcase, “thanks.”

The porch squeaked the moment we stepped on it; from the outside the house looked terrible, only still in one piece due to a magical spell cast upon it; maybe even a curse, given the particular time of a year and sinister atmosphere around. From the inside, it didn't present any better.

“Finally,” a voice said as Taehyung grabbed the knob and pushed the doors wide open, a loud creak announcing our arrival. Slowly, he looked from above his tablet, his lips arched into a polite smile, his dimples on full display. “I started to think that you guys ditched,” he added, clearly glad that he was mistaken.

“Are you kidding me? Pass on such a sweet deal? Never,” I quickly assured him, as I accepted his hand shake when he greeted us, “nice to meet you, too, Namjoon.”

“Okay, before we start anything, you both have to sign this up,” Namjoon announced, showing us the terms of the agreement which were roughly thirty pages long, “basically, it states that we can record anything that happens here, and use it for further research. Also, we do not take any responsibility for any damage caused during your stay.”

Taehyung scrolled through the pages, his eyes moving quickly from left to right as he quickly skimmed the text, reading one every five words.

“Sounds legit,” he commented, as he looked at Namjoon, “where do I sign?”

“Just draw your signature with your finger at the bottom of the page,” Namjoon instructed Taehyung, the latter leaving an illegible squiggle under the date.

“Are you for real?” I asked, still unable to process what Taehyung just did. Did he seriously endorse the contract without thoroughly reading it first? Is he that reckless and irresponsible? For all we know, they could have a permit to legally harvest his organs, or worse.

“Don’t worry, there isn’t anything funny, it’s a routine procedure.” Namjoon reassured me, his arm outstretched toward me, the blank space at the bottom of the page waiting to be signed.

“Fuck it, let’s do it,” I replied casually before I left my signature in the right place. Right now, I seriously needed this money, even if the contract consisted of something I was against, it’s not like Namjoon had time to renegotiate the terms with me; it’s either all or nothing, and I really didn't want to leave empty-handed.

“Okay,” Namjoon locked his tablet, “since we got this covered, you guys must want a short tour around the house,” he simply stated, mentioning for us to follow him and carefully listen to him. Taehyung and I looked at each other, and he let me go first, as he slowly trailed behind me.

The reconnaissance was quite short; Namjoon showed us round the house and introduced us to the four fellow housemates. At the very end of the tour, he led us down the corridor, telling which room was whose. Mine happened to be across from Taehyung’s, squeezed between Jimin’s and Amber’s.

“I should get going,” Namjoon stated, as he glimpsed at his smart-watch, “shit, I’m late,” he added, his eyes roaming around the house as if he was in a panic. “Anyway, see you all on Wednesday.”

"What took you so long?" Taehyung asked as I walked downstairs to the living room. "And here I thought a ghost already ate your disbelieving ass," he snickered, and I immediately stuck out my tongue at him before I politely bowed at the rest and sat on the couch beside Taehyung since he's the one I was the most familiar with; Namjoon had introduced them to me, yet their names slipped my mind almost as soon as I heard them.

"Yeah, totally," I deadpanned, slightly jabbing Taehyung's side; that boy had it coming, why did he look so astonished? "Anyway, I have a treat for all of you," I started, as I placed a plastic bag filled with Chinese fortune cookies.

"Did you rob a Chinese restaurant on your way here?" A man with golden, fluffy hair smiled and reached for the ziplock bag, taking a cookie.

"No, but it's a funny story, actually." I started, obtaining his attention before he managed to crack the cookie and read whatever wisdom was inked inside. "I used to write quotes for the fortune cookies; the manager wanted them to be original and I kind of got carried away. In the end, I got fired."

"What does it say?" Taehyung asked, wondering what could be written there, as he couldn't imagine what kind of sentence could anger the manager to the point of wanting to sack me. "Come on, Jimin, read it out loud!" He encouraged, when the man scanned the piece of paper, his eyes squinted, trying to decipher the message in a tiny font.

"Oh my God, this is gold," Jimin declared, as he strived to refrain himself from ugly-laughing. "You will die alone and poorly dressed," Jimin read, and Taehyung almost choked when he heard the fortune. "Geez, thanks, that's exactly what I wanted to get."

"She must really possess some kind of power, I mean... what are those?" Taehyung asked angrily, as he pointed at Jimin's hideous sneakers. Everyone laughed at Taehyung's remark, and Jimin stuck his tongue out, acting calm and collected, although he couldn't understand the criticism; they were incredibly comfortable, who really cared that they were last season?

"I want one, too." A woman in boyish clothing interjected Taehyung before he got to diss Jimin more, and reached for the bag, eager to read her fortune. "Life is a symphony, and you are playing the kazoo," she read out loud, "why would anyone fire you for that? This is ridiculous; if anything, you should get a raise!"

Later that night, we're still chilling in the living room; demonic presence never making oneself known. It was just a simple get-together; six people in their twenties, a bag of delicious unfortunate cookies and a bottle of rum passed among them.

"Okay, let's lay our cards on the table," Taehyung started casually, wriggling on the couch beside me, brushing his thighs against mine all the time. "What made you guys take part in this? You go first Jimin," he asked with curiosity, his body leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs, waiting for the reply patiently, his eyes fixated on Jimin.

"The girl I have a crush on just got together with my friend, and I didn't feel like third-wheeling them, especially when they're in that honeymoon phase," Jimin stated, gladly accepting the bottle of alcohol Yoongi offered him. It wasn't easy for him, but hopefully participating in this experiment would take it off his mind. "Fuck couples," he added, and raised the bottle, taking another gulp.

"Salute to that!" I cheered, smiling at Jimin, completely supporting his views on relationships. It was solely envy speaking, but yeah, fuck couples!

"What about you Amber?" Taehyung inquired, as he looked at the girl, the bottle of alcohol in her hands.

"Actually, I'm just tagging along. Krystal wanted to go, because she thought her Instagram followers would love it, and I'm just accompanying her."

"That's true," Krystal suddenly interjected, tearing her eyes off the screen, "and they just love it," she added, every word just beautifully rolling off her tongue, "by the end of the experiment, the number of my followers will at least double."

Taehyung nodded his head, registering all the new information about other participants. "Yoongi?"

"Boredom, I guess." Yoongi answered dismissively, drinking alcohol as if it was water. "Also, I've been told I am dead inside, so hopefully, this near-death experience will stir some emotions within me." He added, placing an empty bottle on the carpet, "have any of you brought booze?" He asked, looking at fellow participants, hoping he wasn't the only one who had thought about getting wasted.

"I have," I quickly replied, unconsciously raising my hand as if I was still in high school, "but it's clear vodka, and I don't think we should drink it straight from the bottle," I added, and everyone except Yoongi agreed with me with a simple nod.

"I'll grab the cups and some juice, and you go get the alcohol," Taehyung proposed, and quickly, we stood up and went our separate ways to get what all of us needed. Within two minutes, we got back to the living room; swiftly pouring the drinks, each different with accordance to one's request.

"What about you, kitten?" Taehyung carried on, his gaze fixated on me, our cups clinking in a simple toast. Refraining myself from cringing at the nickname he had given me, I smiled at him and cleared my throat.

"I want to throw an amazing birthday party, and invite all of my friends, but I don't have money, so I signed up for this." I sincerely confessed, all of them staring at me, since mine reason must've been the most trivial one. "What about you, huh?" I boldly asked Taehyung, alcohol in my system giving me confidence and courage.

"What about me?" Taehyung questioned stupidly, grinning at me like an idiot, "Aww, look at your blush, is it me, or the alcohol?"

"Alcohol, definitely alcohol," I answered immediately, being perfectly aware that my cheeks turned scarlet red whenever I was drinking. I was attracted to Taehyung, but it didn't have anything to do with my blush at the moment; it was solely alcohol. "What about you? Are you avoiding my question?"

"I'm not, I just like teasing you," Taehyung stated, leaning forward, and I automatically lay back a little. He surprised me with all the attention he gave me, but I just didn't want to openly flirt with Taehyung in front of everyone. I hated PDA, and even Taehyung's handsome being wouldn't change that. "But to answer your question, I guess I joined the experiment because I felt like it?" Taehyung said, yet his statement came out as a question, almost as if he didn't know how to explain his decision. "I mean... I thought it'd be cool to try something new."

"Okay, since we've already established why we're here, why don't we get drunk?" Jimin spoke, trying to change the subject for which I was much than simply glad, considering the way Taehyung stared at me, waiting for a perfect moment to strike again with his playful remarks.

"Finally!" Yoongi cheered, as he reached for his cup and a fortune cookie. "You are all going to die here," Yoongi read the sentence with furrowed eyebrows, and I almost choked on my drink in horror; I didn't particularly memorise all the quotes, but I was certain that I hadn't written that. "Spooky."

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asked in concern, as he hit my back gently, evidently worried about me, yet intrigued by my reaction. "What's the matter?"

"It wasn't funny, Yoongi," I reprimanded the man, obviously not amused by his prank.

"I don't understand," Yoongi replied, his eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner, as he had no clue what made me act the way I did. "What wasn't funny?"

"The note," I quickly said, pointing my finger at the piece of paper lying on the coffee table, "I didn't write that."

"Who did, then?" He challenged, and I immediately reached for the note, eager to see what was written there. Yoongi's prank wasn't humorous, not even the tiniest bit. Quickly, I flipped the note in my hands, squinting my eyes as I tried to read it in my tipsy state. What threw me off first was the font; the one I held in my hands was hand-written, whereas the ones I had written were not. Someone was messing with me, yet I couldn't really tell who. It had to be one of the fellow participants, it couldn't be a ghost, obviously.

"You guys are the worst," I whined, crumpling the note in my hands, not giving them the satisfaction; they tried to prank me, but it failed.

Around two a.m. we called it a night. Unfortunately, when I got to my room, I didn't feel the tiniest bit tired, my eyes were wide open, not even a single yawn leaving my mouth. Perhaps, it was alcohol that they had poured me, or the cruel prank that affected me much more than I originally thought; either way, I wasn't feeling exhausted, anticipated dream way beyond my reach.

Having kicked off my shoes, I jumped on the bed, sitting up, my back pressed against the headboard. Quickly, I unlocked my phone, keen on reading whatever I had missed during the day. Slowly, I scrolled down the content, either liking or reblogging everything that caught my attention, or made me smile. It didn't keep me busy for long, though.

"Eh," I murmured to myself, as I rolled down, lying on the sheets. The brightness of my phone was blinding me, although it was set the darkest as it was possible. Thankfully, there was a working lamp on the nightstand, which engulfed the room with tangerine, weak light.

Suddenly, I felt cold; it lasted for not longer than ten seconds, yet it was enough for goose bumps to rise in my arms. Shivering, I turned my head toward the window, the curtain fluttering in the chilly breeze. It was strange, especially when I didn't leave it open. Sighing, I jumped off the bed and walked to the window to close it, only to furrow my eyebrows in confusion when I realised it was closed. There had to be a scientific explanation; the draft just didn't emerge from nothingness.

Before I got a chance to ponder the occurrence, I heard a faint knock on the doors, interrupting my train of thought. My head immediately turned, Taehyung's head picked inside my room.

"You're not asleep, thank God," he spoke casually, a sheepish smile decorating his face. Slowly, he pushed the doors open, gingerly entering my room, his pillow in his grip. "Would it be a problem if I slept here tonight?" He asked boldly, his gaze drilling holes in my eyes. "My room stinks as if someone has died in there," he clarified honestly, and I just nodded my head in comprehension.

"You can stay, I guess," I replied nonchalantly, as I wondered if I was his first choice. Didn't he prefer to stay with one of the guys? Or Krystal? Or whoever else? 

"Thanks, you're the best," Taehyung beamed at me, quickly plopping on the right side of the bed, "you're my life saver."

"No problem," I muttered and gave him a faint smile, before I turned my head around, examining the window again. It bothered me that I couldn't come up with a logical explanation, even when I knew one existed; surely it wasn't Casper the ghost, playing with the curtains for crying out loud!

"What are you doing over there?" Taehyung asked, his deep, worried voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "Have you seen a ghost? You look unhealthily pale."

"What...?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I didn't register what exactly he asked me about. "Oh, it's really nothing. I thought I saw something, but it must be nothing. It's just the house, everybody says it's haunted, and even if I don't believe in that, it still makes me feel a bit edgy." I explained, smiling sheepishly throughout my whole reply, as I analysed his concerned expression.

"Don't worry, it's a natural reaction in these circumstances, everyone a bit scared even though they may not outwardly admit that." Taehyung assured, trying to provide me with comfort of some sort. "Hell, even I'm a little frightened." He confessed, and I let out a faint chuckle. The thing was, I wasn't scared, what I felt was confusion without any sort of fear.

I knew better than to believe in that lies Namjoon had fed us with; the supernatural beings don't exist. Period. He might've fooled the rest of them, but I had never been easy to convince.

"It's not I'm scared. Maybe a little uneasy, but that's all." I replied, striving to look as confident as I possibly could. "Anyway," I started, rubbing my hands eagerly, "do you want to check out your room?"

"Not really," quickly, he brushed me off, his body comfortably lying on my bed, his arms tightly wrapped around the pillow, his lips puckered, "when I said that it stank, I meant it. Actually, I'm pretty much surprised you can't smell it from here."

"Okay, let's just stay here." I gave in, not really trying to force him to leave. I truly liked his company, and if he wanted to stay the night, I'd let him even if nothing was going to happen. "But if you hear me talking in my sleep just ignore it, I am not being possessed." I warned him, but Taehyung just beamed at me.

"And if you feel as if a boa snake is trying to kill you, don't panic, you're not being attacked. It's just me." Taehyung announced, holding his pillow tightly between his arms.

"Sure..." I replied, sounding not convinced, "I'll remember that."

"Aren't you tired?" He asked, his head propped on his elbow, as he stared at me. I was still standing next to the window, almost as if I was too shy to lie down beside him. "It's like seriously late," he yawned loudly, not even covering his mouth.

"I was, but sometimes one moment I'm super exhausted, only to be hyper when I should go to bed." I explained, slowly approaching him, the eerie curtain occurrence almost forgotten.

"Yeah, I get it." Taehyung nodded his head, as he closed his eyes, and snuggled tightly around the sheets, making himself absolutely comfortable. "Amber must be suffering like you right now. When I was standing in front of your doors, I could swear I heard moans coming from her room. And if I'm not mistaken, they were Krystal's."

"Whoa," I said, unable to disguise my perplexed reaction. They hadn't made it obvious that they had any romantic strings between them. Moreover, if I had to tip who were in a relationship, I'd nominate Yoongi and Jimin; Krystal hadn't held Amber’s hand when rain started to hit the windows, it was Jimin who had got scared, seeking safety in Yoongi's tight grip.

"At least someone's getting some," I added absent-mindedly, the depressing thoughts of my painfully long singlehood resurfaced.

"I'm very sorry that we're not having sex right now. If I knew sooner that you're down to fuck, I'd save my energy. Not today, kitten." Taehyung teased me, his mind almost in dreamland.

"That's not what I meant!" I replied defensively, shooting him a disapproving glance, which much to my dismay, got unnoticed. "I'm thinking long-term here," I added, although I knew he wasn't listening.

"Good night, Taehyung." I whispered, as I sat on the bed beside him, ready to return to reading on my phone.

When I woke up, Taehyung was gone. Lazily rubbing my eyes, I reached for my phone to check the time and other notifications; it was past noon, and I must've been the only person still in bed. Despite a hot affair between Krystal and Amber, I doubted anyone had stayed awake to 4 o'clock to finish reading.

A loud growl of my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts, demanding food. However, no matter how hungry I was, I had to shower first.

Swiftly, I got out of bed and approached the suitcase, fishing out everything I needed: a clean set of clothes, a bathrobe, and shower necessities.

The bathroom down the hall, thankfully, wasn't occupied, so I quickly sneaked in, locking the doors from the inside.

Instantly, I noticed a camera attached to the ceiling; everybody knows that in horror movies, ghosts just love scaring the shit out of people in the bathrooms, so I can't say that I am surprised. God bless the shower curtain and toilet stall!

Once under the hot steam of water, body coated in a bath foam, I spoke in confusion, "what the fuck?" It was weird, at night, when I had gone to bed, I didn't have any bruises, yet right now, my hips and thighs were covered in a handful of dark marks. How did that happen? These weren't hickeys, obviously. I hadn't knocked into anything, either.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I stared at the marks, still unable to recall how the hell I got them. Once again, something odd happened, and I didn't have an explanation for it; perhaps I am not as smart as I thought I was.

Having pushed the bothersome thoughts aside, I swiftly finished the shower and put on my outfit which consisted of black, ripped jeans and a simple band T-shirt.

​​​"Look who we have here, the Sleeping Beauty finally came downstairs." Taehyung snickered, as soon as I entered the kitchen. Taehyung was alone, doing the dishes, while the rest lounged around the living room, either sipping coffee, or looking at their screens. "How was your sleep?" He asked, looking at me over his shoulder, sending me a simple smile.

"Short," I retorted, as I sat on the stool by the table, looking at the remains of their breakfast. "What about you?"

"I slept like a log," Taehyung admitted, as he turned off the tap and threw the sponge into the sink before he took a seat beside me.

"Taehyung, did we... you know... do anything yesterday? I have these... weird bruises, and I have no idea how I got them. We didn't sleep together, did we?" I mumbled, playing with my fingers. I realised I must've sounded crazy and confused, and thankfully, he didn't laugh at me. "It's really strange, but I seriously don't know how to explain that. I wasn't that drunk, and I was conscious the whole time." I tried to formulate a reasonable explanation, and Taehyung, despite me sounding batshit crazy, he just grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Trust me, kitten, I'd remember that." Taehyung answered playfully, rubbing his thumb against my skin in a soothing manner. "And are you sure you haven't knocked into anything?" He asked, and I shook my head confidently. "Then, it must be the house. It's haunted, remember?"

"I'm being serious here," I whined, and Taehyung tightened his grip around my fingers.

"Don't look at me like that, something's wrong about this house. At breakfast, Yoongi told me that during the night, he felt the draft in his room, although the windows and the doors were closed." Taehyung started, and I looked at him with my eyes wide open; Yoongi had experienced the same thing, and it seemed a bit too coincidental for my liking. It was strange, but it didn't mean that the house was actually haunted.

"It doesn't mean the ghost assaulted me."

"You're right, but tell me when you come up with a better explanation."

"Does anyone know the history of this house?" Amber asked out of the blue, obtaining everyone's attention. "I googled it, and it's pretty messed up."

"Better keep it to yourself, she's already paranoid," Taehyung interjected, pointing his finger at me, earning a jab between his ribs. I wasn't paranoid, I was just puzzled. "What?" He asked loudly, his grip on my wrist, protecting him from me.

"Shut up, you're not better yourself. Who came to my room yesterday? You're the scaredy-cat, just admit it." I fought back, wriggling my arms from his grasp.

"Okay, we get it, you're both chickens," Yoongi commented, as he gave us a judging look. "What does it say?"

"Basically, whoever moves in dies." Amber summed up, as everyone stared at her, eagerly waiting for more details. "The legend says that the family who built this house was brutally murdered by robbers. It is believed the man, right before his death, swore to take vengeance on anybody who comes inside."

"That story's lame," Krystal criticized, shaking her head in disappointment, "I can't believe that's what you came up with, pathetic."

"I didn't come up with anything!" Amber defended herself, but Krystal didn't seem the tiniest bit convinced. "I found this article from a couple of years ago, and it says that over twenty people died in here; adults and kids, everyone cruelly butchered, no survivors. Just read it yourself." She sat up and stretched her hand, passing her phone to Krystal.

"Still lame."

In the evening, when Yoongi found a stash of alcohol, the atmosphere loosened up; no one was thinking about the urban legend, our minds hazy.

"Do you guys wanna play? Krystal and I deserve a break," Amber asked, as she pointed at the table where Yoongi and Jimin were refilling cups for another round of beer pong.

"Sure," Taehyung replied for the both of us, as he smiled at Amber and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the couch. "Come on, kitten, we're gonna fucking destroy them," he added, and I shook my head at Taehyung's confidence. I didn't doubt his skills, mine, however, left a lot to be desired. Especially, when I was already after a couple of drinks.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Tae," Jimin warned, as he smirked at us, "we crushed them, and we're most definitely gonna crush you."

"I probably should tell you that I, Kim Taehyung, have never lost, not even once, at beer pong." With a hand pressed against his heart, Taehyung admitted, while I tried to fight the urge to start laughing at his serious approach. He wasn't going to play to have fun, he was going to beat them out.

"What about you, kitten?" Yoongi asked in a mocking tone, infuriating me even more with that annoying nickname he had caught on from Taehyung.

"What about me? You better worry about yourself because Taehyung and I will beat the crap out of you." I exclaimed and high-fived Taehyung before we cheered together, being confident about our victory. Hopefully, Taehyung had his self-proclaimed skills, otherwise, we're pretty much screwed.

"Feisty." Yoongi hissed under his breath, a lopsided smirk decorating his face. "In that case, we should arrange a bet; what do you think?"

"Bring it on," Taehyung replied confidently, as he sent a determined glare at Yoongi and Jimin, "what's the punishment gonna be?"

"We'll have that figured out by the end of the match, okay?"

Having cracked my knuckles, and heaved a sigh, the game started, me being the first one to throw the ball, as the boys insisted that ladies first. Surprisingly, I managed to score for our team; unfortunately, it was the first and also last point I notched up. Amongst the four of us, Taehyung was definitely the best player, yet with my awful contribution, it wasn't enough to win against them.

"In your face!"

"There's a first time for everything, Tae!" Jimin mocked, as he approached our side of the table, and patted Taehyung's shoulder with artificial care. "What are we gonna make them do, Yoongs?"

"Don't worry, shit happens." Taehyung spoke, trying to cheer me up when Yoongi and Jimin were conferring our punishment. "It's not a big deal."

"Sorry, Tae. It's all my fault. If you want I can do the punishment alone. It's fine with me."

With everlasting smile upon his face, he shook his head. Of course, he'd do that, given how much of a sweetheart I knew he was.

"Don't be ridiculous," Taehyung spoke, as he spared me a short glance before he focused on Jimin and Yoongi who're bending their backs backward, desperate to come up with a sinister punishment.

"Today's Halloween, maybe we should send them to the basement. If the ghosts don't hunt them down, we'll know that Namjoon has been bullshitting the whole time." Jimin announced, and Yoongi enthusiastically clapped his hands and nodded his head, agreeing with Jimin's idea.

"Oh my God," Krystal whined and rolled her eyes, as she took a short break from her Instagram profile, "you guys are so lame! Unbelievably uncreative. A sponge would generate a better punishment."

Krystal was right; the guys didn't possess even a whit of creativity. They were also dicks, picking a dull cliché from every horror movie ever. Going to the basement with Taehyung wasn't a problem to me, yet when Jimin and Yoongi opted for clichés, I'd rather make out with my game partner. Their idea was neutral, and I didn't really mind spicing things up.

Hopefully, Taehyung didn't either.

"Just let them, they tried their best," Taehyung replied casually, yet I didn't miss the sly, subtle smirk that he sent me. He was up to something; it was obvious, and although I didn't know anything about his revenge plan, I could only assume that Yoongi and Jimin would regret messing with us. Or at least, making fun of us. "It's really nothing, we'll crush them in the next round. It was just a warm-up."

"Yeah... sure....," Yoongi hissed, sounding unconvinced, as he knew we didn't stand a chance to win against them. Not in the next round. Not ever.

"Finish your drink, Tae." Jimin said casually, as he looked at Taehyung's cup which was half full.

As soon as Taehyung emptied his cup with only three gulps, Yoongi and Jimin walked us to the basement doors, eloquently calling our mission 'Seven Minutes in Hell'. Frankly, despite all the alcohol in my blood, it still made me cringe.

"Okay, what was about that look?" I asked straightforwardly when the doors closed behind us, Taehyung and I in the embrace of darkness, occasional squeaks of the floor above us heard whenever someone moved.

"What look?" Taehyung asked, as he batted his eyelashes at me, trying to trick me into believing in his innocence. I had caught his smirk, he couldn't deny it, and I wouldn't fall for that. He was definitely up to something.

"Don't act like an idiot, Tae. That look, I know you have some sort of a revenge plan." I explained, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was smirking. We're going to bite back at Jimin and Yoongi, and if he really thought I'd step back, he was awfully mistaken. We didn't know each other very well, but the playful competitiveness that had surrounded us fueled me even more, not really wanting to stop the battle now. It was fun, and I couldn't stop. Taehyung had to feel the same way.

"Well... I can't say I have a particular idea in my mind, but it would be funny if we managed to pull a prank on them, don't you think?" He started, and I nodded my head, agreeing with him. It was harmless. Moreover, the house was obviously a ghost-free zone, they deserved to experience something exciting. If the ghost didn't want to scare them, Taehyung and I would take care of it instead. "Do you have an idea? Hopefully, you don't lack creativity as much as Yoongi and Jimin do."

"I don't know, we don't have much time left," I spoke, as I reached into the back pocket of my jeans to pull my phone, getting blinded by its brightness. "We have like six minutes, I doubt we manage to pull out an epic prank. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

This time, I was the one who had a lopsided smirk upon my face, "let's see," I spoke casually, as I grabbed Taehyung's hand and led him downstairs, trying to omit random objects which were scattered all over the place.

"Do think that's where all these people died?" Taehyung asked, as he followed behind me, his warm hand resting in mine, his gaze focused on the back of my head.

"No, of course, not. If anything, I'd bet they were killed in our beds." I replied casually, and Taehyung tightened his grip, as he heard my statement. I'm not surprised, it came much darker than I originally intended.

"That's really messed up," Taehyung muttered under his breath, obviously crept out by my bold remark. Damn it, I really should've known when to bite my tongue and just shut up. Even if I had the slightest chance to get it on with Taehyung, I just botched it up. The prospect of any form of intimacy just sank like a stone. "Why would you even say that?"

"Sorry, sometimes I forget it's not the Internet, and that I just can't say whatever comes to my mind." I replied, smiling at him sheepishly, knowing the situation I put myself in was miserable, and it couldn't get any worse. At this point, Satan himself could crack the surface of the Earth and set my dumb ass on fire, and I'd probably thank him for saving me from this embarrassment.

And since I was already a lost cause, I could play a little prank on him.

Abruptly, I turned off the flashlight on my phone, yanked my hand out of Taehyung's grip, and screamed, sounding quite naturally. No wonder, given how many times I had popped out of nowhere, scaring the crap out of my brother. Just as I expected, the second the light went out, Taehyung let out a shriek, which was followed by a fit of my laughter. Taehyung and the guys upstairs must've just lost their minds, some of them maybe even convinced that a vengeful spirit just finished us off.

"Holy shit, it wasn't funny." Taehyung gasped with a hand pressed against his chest when I switched on the flashlight. He looked utterly terrified, and I seriously felt like the worst person in the world. Maybe I really was the worst person in the world, yet the temptation was way too strong to fight. I couldn't waste this chance. "You almost got me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," I apologised, trying to refrain from giggling, even though it was truly difficult; his voice normally is really deep and raspy, yet just a while ago he didn't sound like himself. I wouldn't be surprised if the guys thought that high-pitched wail belonged to me. "You have to understand me, though. You'd do the same, you wouldn't be able to fight that sort of whim."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Taehyung agreed, scratching the back of his head, as he admitted his playful intentions. "I'm still angry, though. I almost pissed my pants, you know..."

"Sorry, but look at the bright side; you're gonna be prepared when the real ghost conjures up in front of you." I expounded, yet Taehyung didn't buy it. I just knew it, and the skeptical look he was giving me only validated my point. "Ugh, fine, let's make a deal. If anything supernatural happens, I'll shield you with my very own chest. Let's say, it's my token of atonement, okay?"

"Not okay," Taehyung crossed his hands across his chest, as he flat out rejected my proposition. That was unexpected. Who normal would pass on such a sweet deal? "First of all, it'd really hurt my ego if a girl jumped between me and a fucking ghost. That's highly unnecessary, kitten. It'd much rather you kissed it better." Taehyung asserted, as he poked his cheek with his long, slender forefinger.

I couldn't believe he actually said that; I thought he hated me.

Because of me we had lost the beer pong game. Moreover, I was the one who had made him scream like a little girl. Was he attracted to me the way I was attracted to him? Was he so interested in me that he actually was capable of turning a blind eye to me basically doing a one-eighty to his image?

"You're serious?" I asked, my eyebrows raised, as I still couldn't process that he, I'll be jiggered, requested a kiss.

Immediately, his gaze met mine, and I just couldn't look away. I was irrationally fascinated by him, and he, surprise, surprise, reciprocated my attraction.

"What? You don't want to?" Taehyung inquired, heaving a sigh.

Normally, I'd panic and lie, fleeing from the basement as soon as I could. Right now, however, I didn't even think about escaping. I just stood there, gawking at him, digesting his words. It still felt surreal; my cheeks probably scarlet red by now, his eyebrows furrowed in anticipation.

What the hell was I thinking? I had to be an idiot; why, on Earth, was I pondering over his statement? I ought to have smashed my lips against his the second he prodded his cheek. The guys could call us any minute; we didn't have much time, why the fuck was I wasting it?

Having come to my senses, I eagerly took a step forward, his arms wrapping around my waist the second I was within his reach. Nothing really happened yet, but my heart was already beating abnormally in excitement. Taehyung had amazing influence on me, or was it the consumed alcohol? Either way, I wanted him, and Good Lord, I should not have been satiated with just a peck!

"You know what to do, kitten," Taehyung urged, and I rolled my eyes at the nickname which I heard like the hundredth time tonight. It was really irritating, yet I just couldn't formulate a witty remark, as my mind completely shut off once I found myself in Taehyung's embrace. Almost as if we were in our personal bubble where nothing mattered, the sinister surroundings long forgotten.

Gently, I placed my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his cheek.

"That's not even a kiss, do it properly," he whined, his fingers delicately digging into my skin, as he pulled me closer. Immediately, I replied with a smirk, trailing innocent pecks across his cheek, only to hover my lips over his, enjoying teasing him. If we went any further, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. For a short while, Taehyung and I looked into each other's eyes, as we breathed the same air, tinges of lust racing between our bodies.

"Kitten," he started, as he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against my lips.

"Hmm?"

Slowly, I closed my eyes and leaned in; Taehyung's lips were incredibly soft when he moved against me. It wasn't anything extraordinary, yet it felt just heavenly; no tongue, no biting, no sucking—it was just a kiss in the simplest of forms. Why did he taste so marvelous, then?

It must've been his natural charm, as no other explanation came to my mind.

Gradually, I started to trace the outline of his lips with my tongue, and Taehyung responded by slightly opening his mouth, welcoming my tongue with his. Taehyung's hands roamed around my body, squeezing my hips and drawing small circles with his fingers on my skin. I, on the other hand, was pressed against his frame, my breasts rubbing against his chest, his thigh between my legs.

"Mmn..." I purred quietly, when I pulled away for a second to catch a breath. "You're an amazing kisser, Tae," I confessed and immediately captured his lips in a heated kiss, slipping my tongue inside his mouth. Taehyung instantly replied with a grunt, as he grabbed my bottom and gripped it, excitingly yanking me toward him, the outline of his semi-hard cock poking against my stomach.

No matter how long we made out; lust only amplified with each passing second. Taehyung tasted so addicting, it completely shut off my brain. I could only focus on the kiss and ways how to prolong it; the revenge plan the last thing on our minds.

My excuses went down the drain at once, as Jimin's worried voice echoed, his head stuck through the doors.

"You dead?"

Ever since we left the basement, Taehyung and I kept stealing glances at each other; the kiss had been amazing, and neither of us wished to pull away. However, we both felt quite uncomfortable making out in front of the rest. (Or was it just me, and Taehyung just didn't want to force me into anything. Especially when I confessed it was me who had shrieked at the top of my voice when I had thought I saw a ghost.)

Taehyung owes me.

Big time.

The tension between us was driving me crazy. It was utterly ridiculous how much I craved to return to Taehyung's embrace to score every base with him. Shamelessly, I needed his arms on me, bending me to his will as he wished.

"God, I'm so bored," Yoongi whined, as he locked his phone and rubbed his eyes. "I'll just go to sleep. Wake me up when a ghost decides to show up."

"Maybe, it's not that bad of an idea," Amber commented, yawning ostentatiously.

"That's official, this is definitely the worst Halloween party ever," Krystal criticized, looking around the room, everyone either exhausted or drunk. (In Yoongi's case, both.) "At least, I am being paid to be here."

​​​​​"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Taehyung asked, sounding confused and disappointed at the same time. True, we hadn't witnessed any paranormal activity, yet it didn't necessarily mean that the party was horrible.

It was fun.

Especially my time alone with Taehyung.

​​​​​"We're all tired, Tae." Jimin said casually, smiling at the latter, as he didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I don't know what about you, but I couldn't fall asleep; I didn't blink an eye yesterday."​​​​

"Fine," Taehyung groaned, plopping down onto the couch beside Krystal, "it's just that Namjoon will come get us in the morning, and we will probably never meet each other again. I thought it'd be fun if we used the time we have to the fullest. You're like seriously an awesome entourage."

Taehyung's words stung. The really stung, and although I didn't get to know them as thoroughly as I wanted to, I knew I'd miss them. Everyone was different in many ways, and we, as a group, complemented perfectly.

Also, I didn't particularly delude myself; I knew that Taehyung would be a very short chapter of my life, and despite that, I still felt bitter that tomorrow we would go our separate ways and never see each other again.

When everyone went to their rooms, Taehyung let out a heavy sign, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "are you going to go, too?" he asked, as he changed his position, leaning in, his elbows pressed against his thighs, his eyes seeking mine, almost begging me to stay.

"No," I firmly replied, sending him a faint smile. I wasn't going anywhere; Taehyung was right, we didn't have much time left, and I didn't want to leave him. "I'm not even the tiniest bit tired," I stated, as I stood up, and approached him, sitting down beside him. Our little moment in the basement was more than just energizing; it was so refreshing I couldn't remember when I felt this good.

"Thank you, kitten," he spoke softly, and grabbed my hand, placing a gentle peck on my knuckles, "so what do you want to do?" he inquired, turning to me, resting his head in his hand, as he propped his shoulder on the backrest. "I believe we were interrupted just a while ago," he remembered, and with a lopsided smirk upon his face, he leaned slowly forward.

"Yeah, we were," I agreed, yet just when he was about to kiss me, I pressed my forefinger against his lips, stopping him. Quickly, Taehyung arched his back and looked at me in confusion; I had to be out of my character to push him away. "You have no idea how much I want us to continue wherever we left off, but look around, Tae, cameras are all over the place. Namjoon pays quite handsomely, but it's not enough for my sex tape."

Taehyung laughed.

Loudly.

"Oh, kitten, you amuse me so much," he added, and I sulked. Was my assumption really that far-fetched? That hurt — a lot. "Hey, hey, hey, it's not what I meant, please, don't brood. It's just that I don't sleep around, kitten."

"I don't either," quickly, I replied, making him smile again, yet at this point, I couldn't tell what it meant. "I really want to fuck you right now, though."

His smile disappeared only to be replaced with lustful glance, his eyes slowly undressing me.

Abruptly, he stood up and yanked me with him, "my car's in the driveway."

The second we entered the car, I slammed my lips against his in a fervent, needy kiss; our disappointingly short make out session had only ignited fire with me, and I immediately had to share it with Taehyung before I completely burned out.

"I'm not really that kind of a guy," Taehyung defended himself when he managed to pull away. I had my hands on his broad shoulders, my fingers slowly roaming around his neck, giving him the best massage I was capable of.

"I know, you've already said that," I simply stated and smiled at him before reconnecting our mouth again in another passionate lock. "I'm not that kind of a girl, either, but I really want you, so why the hell not?"

Taehyung didn't need another assurance. I just gave him a green light to do whatever he wanted to do, and he couldn't be more ecstatic about it. His mouth could be shut, but his eyes were pure sin, glancing at me with utter lust.

"Oh, kitten," Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back against the headrest. He was enjoying it, although I barely touched him. "I don't deserve you," he added before he formed a pleased smirk.

He was wrong, though.

I didn't deserve him.

However, it didn't stop either of whom to take what we really wanted. We desired each other, itching to reach that high together, even though we knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

"Shut up, Tae," I reprimanded him, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Are we doing this or not?" I challenged him and before I managed to take a breath, Taehyung kissed me quite desperately. His hands stretched and landed on my sides, as he pulled me onto him, his cock poking against my stomach.

"I'd never forgive myself if I rejected you," Taehyung stated in a serious tone, his eyes fixated on me as if he was going to eat me alive. His stare was of a starved predator, and I was about to devote myself to him, willing to obey his every, even the kinkiest one, command.

"I'd never forgive myself if I let you reject me," I snickered and rocked my hips against him, earning a throaty moan from him. His cock, still restrained in his jeans, was throbbing for more friction, yet he'd have to wait for the main course a bit more.

I loved foreplay and I wasn't going to give up on that, even when I ridiculously wanted to feel him inside of me. My patience was going to be rewarded, it always is.

"Not even once it struck me you're such a bad girl," he spoke with a smirk, as he kneaded my ass cheeks when I was busy raking my finger across his chest and peppering his jaw and neck with damp kisses, nipping on his skin in an urge to mark him.

"Because I am not. I just met a guy who brings the worst out of me," I teased, and Taehyung tightened his grip on my sides, giving me a slight spank.

"I wouldn't say the worst... I kinda like that new image of you," Taehyung confessed, and I smiled shyly, quickly hiding my face in the crook of his neck, leaving stamps of my plum lipstick on his skin.

"Oh, Taehyung," I breathed out, as I unbuckled his jeans and put my hands in his pants.

Taehyung hissed the second I touched him, "damn, your hands are fucking cold!"

He was right, yet I was certain they would warm up quickly with a few strokes on his rock-hard cock. "Better?" I asked when his lips turned into a pleased smirk.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his eyes close shut, as he completely focused on my gentle touch, caressing his sensitive skin. Right now, I felt so powerful, straddling him; his body was reacting to even the slightest movement of my hand. "Kitten," Taehyung murmured on the exhale, as he grabbed my bottom and forced me onto him, so I fell on his chest, nuzzling my nose in his neck.

Uncontrollably, I giggled, and Taehyung stretched his arm, turning on the radio, and although I didn't mind the current mood, the soft ballad that filled the vehicle created a semi-romantic setting.

Without any comment, Taehyung looked me in the eyes, as he unzipped my jeans and forced his hand in my panties. "You're so wet, kitten," he snickered, and I rolled my eyes at his obvious statement. If only he knew I had been this excited for him ever since our kiss in the basement.

"Don't blame me, I really want to feel that cock inside of me," I stated nonchalantly, pulling him into another round of lustful and wanton kisses. Grunting, I slammed my lips against his, and he responded in an instant, poking his tongue against my teeth, demanding entrance.

"I'd never think you're into dirty talk," Taehyung spoke casually, as he played with my clit, flicking it between his fingers, making all my muscles tense, my hips grinding against his hand. Slowly, he ran his forefinger across my fold, smearing my juices all over my pussy; God, even the gentle caress of his digits got me trembling for more. At this point, I couldn't wait to feel what his cock was going to do to me.

"Because I am not, but with you it just seems suited," I confessed, and Taehyung reattached our lips together, pushing his middle finger inside of me, making me almost bite my tongue. His hands were perfectly sculpted and his fingers were just right, filling me just the way I need him to. "Fuck, Tae, keep doing that," I moaned, my voice louder than the radio in the background. Taehyung added another finger, and began to rub my clit with his thumb.

"I really do bring the worst out of you," Taehyung sneered playfully, pumping his fingers within me, making me squirt on his hand. He really had no mercy when it came to pleasuring me; if he kept the pace, I'd come before the song ended. "Shit," Taehyung spat, as I started to shamelessly ride his hand in desperation for more.

"I seriously need your cock right now."

"Fuck," Taehyung pulled out his fingers, and his hands quickly landed back on my hips, squeezing my flesh roughly. "Get your cute ass on the back seat," he ordered sternly and pushed me upwards, helping me get off of him. With the grace and elegance of a noddle-legged zebra, I followed Taehyung's command, almost falling face-first on the seat in my tipsy state when he spanked my ass cheekily.

"Hey," I whined as I sat on the cold seat, waiting for Taehyung to join me, "it wasn't nice, what would you do if I spanked you?"

"I'd ask you to do it again," he replied wittily, and I roared with laughter, as I watched him crumble in the seat beside me, his movement almost as clumsy as mine. "Spread those pretty legs for me kitten," he whispered, a devilish smirk decorating his handsome face.

I didn't have to be told twice, I obeyed his order in an instant, whereas Taehyung hooked his fingers under the waistband of my jeans, and pulled them off my legs agonizingly slowly, and at this point, I didn't know whether he was torturing me, or himself.

Quickly, I pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders, and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his naked chest and broad shoulders; maybe he wasn't ripped like a hockey player, but I liked his proportional frame. Without any hesitation, I could admit that he was ridiculously attractive despite anything.

"Take off your shirt, kitten," Taehyung cooed, and as if compelled, I got out of my jacket and band T-shirt, not leaving much to the imagination, since I was only in my panties and a violet bra that beautifully shaped my breasts. His eyes were focused on my cleavage, while his general expression was actually blank. "Wow," that's all he managed to voice before he grabbed me by my thighs abruptly and pulled me toward him, so in the process, I lay down on my back on the back seat, Taehyung already positioned between my legs.

"Taehyung," I purred when I felt his lips on the inner side of my right thigh. He was taking his time teasing me, and although it was nice, I couldn't wait for him to slam his cock inside of me until I come around him. Slowly, his kisses wandered upwards; gentle pecks all across my stomach, cleavage, and neck before he captured my mouth.

"Please," I mewled when he pulled away to catch a breath.

"Please what?" Taehyung smiled at me, rubbing his hard cock against my folds. Fuck, why do we still have so many clothes on?

"Pull out that cock and fuck me," I spoke rather tenaciously, as I placed my hands on his sides and pulled him closer, and he almost fell over on top of me. Didn't he understand how much I desired him?

"I really wanted to eat you out, though," Taehyung announced and licked his lips, as if trying to seduce me.

Didn't he realise I was already allured?

Twice.

"Oh my God," Taehyung tugged my panties to the side and tongue flicked his tongue against my clit, and I immediately buckled my hips upward against his face and clenched my fists, grabbing his fluffy hair. Every muscle of my body was tensed, my eyes tightly shut, and I only concentrated on Taehyung's tongue lapping and delving inside of me.

"What the fuck? Did you hear that?" We both instantly pulled away from each other and glanced at the radio which a second ago roared with deafening white noise. Strangely enough, it only lasted a few seconds, and I could swear I heard Jimin's scream.

"I did," Taehyung admitted, as he looked at the radio, and then at me, his frame supported on his arms, his hands pressed against the seat. "It must be nothing," he shrugged, and leaned in, kissing my abdomen, slowly pulling my panties down my legs. "The radio program must want to scare its listeners, that's all."

Taehyung's reasoning didn't convince me, yet I decided to follow his example and just shake it off; I had to be actually possessed to stop right now, put on my clothes back and check if Jimin's safe. Besides, he's a grown-up and he's not alone; he ought to be fine.

"Where were we?"

Quickly, a smile appeared on my face and the occurrence from a moment ago was the last thing on my mind.

"You were going to fuck me," I replied quickly, smirking at him. Obediently, Taehyung pulled down his pants to his knees, giving his thick cock a few strokes, "do you have a condom?"

"Shit, you're right," Taehyung cursed, but quickly reached into the car compartment where thankfully was a pack of condoms.

"You ready?" he asked the second he rolled the condom on his cock and positioned himself in front of my entrance.

"Fuck me, Taehyung."

Without any trouble, Taehyung eased himself in, and although I was soaking wet, he grunted as my walls wrapped around him tightly. Slowly at first, gradually increasing his pace, Taehyung snapped his hips, making me moan with every thrust. My breasts, although still in the bra, rocked in Taehyung's rhythm.

"Fuck, you're tight," Taehyung grunted under his breath, as he slammed his cock inside of me, his balls hitting against my body. His forehead was covered in sweat, and I was panting in exhaustion even we just began; his performance was amazing, short waves of pleasure running to every inch of my body.

"Just like that," I moaned, almost melting in front of him. He fucked me so good that it made me wonder how could he know my body better than I did. No one had ever made me feel this heavenly so soon; even myself. "Damn, Taehyung, you're killing me," his cock felt so amazing that it almost hurt. "I want to ride you, Tae."

"Fuck, come here." He hissed, as he pulled out of me, and I whined already missing his cock. It felt so empty that I almost felt bad for asking him for a change of position. Raggedly, Taehyung sat on the seat and placed his hands on my hips, helping me to sit down on his lap. "Ah, kitten," Taehyung purred when my sex brushed against his twitching cock, "I already miss that tight pussy."

Running my fingers through his fluffy hair, I raised my hips, and Taehyung positioned his dick against my entrance. Slowly, I sat down on him, my walls once again stretching around him. "Fuck, it makes me so full," I moaned, my eyes closed, my breath hitched.

Sensually, I rocked my hips back and fro, while Taehyung was decorating my cleavage with damp kisses, his large hands under my bra, fondling my breast. His touch wasn't too gentle, nor too rough; he knew what he was doing to make me feel desired and striving for more.

"Let me see them," Taehyung grunted, as he reached behind my back, unhooking my purple bra, tossing it onto the dashboard. "Beautiful, just as I imagined them," he confessed and before I got to give him a questioning look, his lips landed on my nipple. Hungrily, he sucked on my sensitive bud, his left hand kneading the other breast, making me slow my moves, as I savored the feeling of his tongue.

"Oh God," I moaned, digging my fingernails into the skin of his broad shoulders. "Taehyung," his name rolled off my tongue, and Taehyung immediately grasped my chin and tilted it down, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, haste kiss. His tongue swirled around mine, as he swallowed each moan that left my mouth.

"I hope you're close because I'm fucking coming," Taehyung warned me before he placed his hands on my sides, helping me increase my pace. The sound of our bodies, the skin slapping almost got me loose my balance. His fingertips dug into my hips, and I threw my head back, nearing my orgasm.

It was our first time, and although we both wanted to last as long as we could, I'd gladly reach my high now. I didn't really mind it as long as he was down for another round. Maybe not today, but generally. On my side, it was too fantastic to settle on a one night stand.

Hopefully, Taehyung thought the same.

"Just come, Tae," I breathed out, almost unable to speak, "I'm coming, too."

With a final thrust, Taehyung growled in ecstasy, releasing himself into a condom, while I fluttered my eyes when the shattering sensation nearly ripped me apart. For a brief moment, the orgasm overwhelmed me; my vision faded to black, and I was lying on my back, desperately trying to catch a breath, listening to Taehyung's irregular breathing.

God, how much I wished we could stay in his car a bit longer.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Taehyung gasped the second we entered the house, "what the fuck are you doing Jimin? It's not funny, bro." He added, and I looked over his shoulder to see what frightened him so much. Apparently, Jimin thought it'd be a good idea to stay up all night, sitting in a chair in front of the entrance with his hands entwined on his laps, just to catch us sneaking inside.

"Not cool, Jimin. Not cool." I added and shook my head disapprovingly.

"Are you gonna answer us?" Taehyung asked, crossing his arms over his chest, while I was just staring at Jimin, crept out by him as he not even once blinked since we had entered the house.

Hesitantly, I raised my hand and waved in front of Jimin's eyes, but he didn't move an inch. "That's creepy—" I spoke and shrieked in astonishment when the doors behind us slammed spontaneously with a loud bang. "Okay, Jimin, that's not funny anymore," I urged him, snapping my fingers before his face, yet Jimin remained unresponsive.

"Hey," Taehyung shouted, as he placed his large hands on Jimin's shoulders, trying to shake him awake. Unfortunately, his method also failed.

"Taehyung, look," I said, lightly elbowing Taehyung's side, wanting to obtain his attention, "there's blood," I added, pointing at Jimin's hands.

The second we examined his palms, Jimin shot a sinister glare at us, curving his lips into a creepy smirk. "Look who's finally here," Jimin started, his voice oddly different, as if an octave lower and raspier. He didn't sound like himself, and I was completely alerted. "I hope you liked your stay," Jimin continued and raised from his seat, turning his head in a very uncomfortable angle, as his eyes was drilling in our faces.

"Ha, ha, ha," Taehyung laughed awkwardly, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Taehyung," I whispered, as I tugged at his sleeve.

"What's the matter, kitten?" He asked, as he stared back at Jimin who licked the blood off of his hands, "that's nasty, bro."

"I don't want to break your moment over there, but I'm pretty sure it's Yoongi who lies on the floor over there in a puddle of blood." Taehyung's eyes immediately followed the direction I pointed at, and the second he spotted Yoongi, he pushed Jimin backwards. Jimin chortled as we tried to run away.

Oddly, the kitchen doors shut close almost in front of our faces, and this time, I doubted it was caused by the aeration.

"Okay, plan B?"

"Not really," Taehyung shook his head, his mouth wide open as he stared at Jimin in panic. "I must admit I counted on you in that area, kitten."

"Fuck," I cursed, as I tried to come up with a solution. I like working under pressure, but this case was quite extreme, as Jimin behaved like someone else, and Yoongi was lying on the floor, blood slowly seeping out of his head. "Stay back," I told Taehyung as I took a step forward, so he could hide behind me. I wouldn't generate a better idea if I knew that Taehyung was directly exposed to danger.

"What are we gonna do?" Taehyung asked, and I shook my head, as I didn't come with anything yet.

I was silent, observing Jimin. However, as soon as Jimin started to levitate a foot above the ground, my eyes almost popped out of its sockets. Like how I previously thought that all of this was a staged prank, I began doubting myself. Like before I knew a logical explanation existed, right now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Run!" I screamed and pushed Taehyung in front of me, so if Jimin wanted to dash after us, Taehyung had more chances of getting away.

"Over here!" Amber's voice echoed through the corridor, and we immediately followed the sound, running into the last bedroom on the right. "Krystal and I thought that Jimin finished you off like he did Yoongi. Thankfully, we were wrong." She spoke, and Krystal barricaded the doors.

"What happened to Jimin?" Taehyung asked, as he managed to catch a breath.

"I wish we knew," Krystal started, as she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in her tight grip. "One moment we were going to rest in our rooms, and another, we heard Yoongi's scream."

"Quickly, we ran to see what the hell was going on. We saw Yoongi flying across the room, knocking his head against the wall." Amber finished, and Taehyung and I were equally crept out.

"That's messed up," Taehyung commented, and everyone nodded, agreeing with him. "What are we gonna do?"

Everyone was in deep thought; without a plan, we'd end up like Yoongi. It was three o'clock at night, and Namjoon was going to come get us at dawn. Right now, we had to be smart to last until then.

"Where are you hiding?" Jimin's sneer echoed behind the doors, as he strolled slowly, looking for us. He was taking his time chasing us, yet I suspected that he already knew where we were; he just played with us, making us think we stood a chance.

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud. Almost as if someone fell onto the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Amber asked in a raised voice, as she pointed at the doors. "I didn't like that sound."

"We should open the doors and see," Krystal spoke, and everyone looked at her, not knowing whether she was ridiculously brave or simply stupid. In our circumstances, the attack wasn't the best option; we would have to be batshit crazy to face the opponent, especially when we didn't have the foggiest idea what the fuck we were battling against.

"Nah, we're not gonna do that," I replied, trying my best not to offend her. I might've come a bit mean, yet Krystal's proposition wasn't the smartest option. No one in a right state of mind wouldn't willingly leave the sanctuary we were currently in. They might think I am a bitch, but at least, we would be safe. "Let's just stay here."

"What if Jimin's hurt?" Taehyung asked in concern, taking Krystal's side. It wasn't the place, not time for choosing sides, yet it happened. Taehyung was like me, no matter how stupid he was, he was worried about the rest. Without any doubt, he'd sacrifice himself if the group would make it without him. "We can't leave him like that."

Of course, we couldn't! Did he seriously think I didn't know that?

"Let's just go," Krystal added and smirked, and I immediately caught the difference in her voice. Amber realised it, too. Whatever possessed Jimin took over Krystal right now—that's why it was oddly quiet on the other side of the doors.

"Run!" Amber shouted, as she threw herself on Krystal, tackling her down on the floor. The second Amber's voice rang in my ears, I pushed the barricade as quickly as I could, and Taehyung and I escaped the room.

"We can't just leave her," Taehyung said when he looked over his shoulder, looking at Krystal, who was lying on the floor beneath Amber, chortling evilly.

"You're not gonna leave this house alive," Krystal threatened, as she laughed in Amber's face, effortlessly pushing her off of her. Taehyung and I gawked at Krystal whose eyes changed its colour to a very eerie shade of white.

With great dexterity, Krystal threw Amber across the room, smashing the old wardrobe with Amber's unconscious body.

"Run!" I shouted at Taehyung, pulling him with me, as we ran downstairs.

"What's your plan?"

"To get the fuck out of here!" I quickly screamed back at him, my hands instantly fidgeting with the knob. The doors just wouldn't open.

"Let me try," Taehyung proposed, and I took a step back, allowing him to try to break the doors down. Everything in vain, though. We were locked in. "Do you have a plan B?" Taehyung asked, as he hit the doors with his clenched fist in irritation.

"Tools? We need some tools," I said the first that came to my mind. I knew it wasn't the smartest solution, yet that's all I could postulate.

"Okay, just stay here, and I look for something," Taehyung stated and kissed my forehead before he ran off. It was very irresponsible to split up, yet I didn't even get to scold him, since he was already out of my sight. How could he leave me like that? I understood that he didn't want to put me in danger, but as a duo, we were stronger. I had watched way too many horror movies to know that splitting up was the worst thing that we could do.

Trying my best not to panic, I paced around the hall, playing with my fingers. I was left alone, and I didn't like that feeling; that monster that was terrorizing us could come at me anytime.

"Holy shit," I shrieked when I heard a loud thud. Thankfully, it was just Taehyung, and he had found a crowbar. "What took you so long?" I asked, relief washing over me, seeing him safe and sound. I had a bad feeling about it, yet it was only my paranoid suspicion.

"I returned in a speed of light, babe." Taehyung snickered, sending shivers down my spine.

Babe?

Oh, no. Taehyung exclusively called me kitten. He knew how much it annoyed me, he'd not change the pet name; at least, not until it grew on me.

It wasn't him anymore.

Taehyung was gone, and I was, now, face to face with a parasite that lived off him. I was scared beyond common sense, and I had no idea what to do. However, I had to figure something out real quick unless I wanted to be discovered.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, I'm just really scared, you know," I spoke, trying to sound natural. My hands were trembling, all covered in sweat, yet thankfully, my voice didn't break. "Are you ready to get the hell out of here?" I asked, smiling, as I reached for the crowbar.

"Are we really going to leave them behind?" Taehyung asked, as I turned on my heels, facing the doors. With my eyes tightly closed, I bit on my bottom lip, feeling the copper on my tongue. I had to be cautious with my words. I couldn't get busted.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine. Namjoon will pick them up at dawn, and we wait for him outside," I explained, tightening my grip on the crowbar.

"I guess that's reasonable—" Taehyung replied, but before he managed to finish his sentence, I swung the crowbar, and hit him in the head. The blow wasn't powerful enough to kill Taehyung, yet it was sufficient to knock him down. A thin stream of blood seeped from his head, but I didn't worry that much about him, being sure he was going to be alright.

"Shit," I cursed the second lights started flickering.

Using all my strength, I tried to break the doors down with the crowbar, but they didn't even budge. Desperately, I looked around, thinking of another escape way. A broken window had to suffice right now. Even if I was about to break my leg, I wouldn't stand another minute in this fucked up house.

Quickly, I swung my hand, shattering the glass into a million pieces. While clearing the sharp pieces from the frame, I heard a quiet groan. Immediately, I turned around and saw Taehyung who tried to raise his head.

"Careful," I warned him, as I approached him and crouched by his side.

"What the hell happened?" He asked, when he touched his head, wiping the blood off his forehead. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

"I'll explain later," I announced, helping Taehyung to stand up. "We have no time, Tae. I smashed the window, we're getting out of here." He nodded his head before I helped him walk to the window. "You go first."

Taehyung wanted to argue with me, but he couldn't do anything to change my mind. He was wounded, and although it wasn't anything serious, I was still going to force him out of the window if he wouldn't jump out willingly. Nothing would convince me, so he better complied with me.

"Quickly," I urged him, when Taehyung swung his legs over the frame.

"Come on, kitten," Taehyung spoke, waiting for me to join him outside. Shooting one last glance at the interior, I heaved a sigh, and squeezed through the window, landing on my feet beside Taehyung.

Naturally, he entwined his hands with mine, and we jogged away from the house, pressing our backs against the side of his car, slowly sliding down onto the ground. We were both panting, our breaths slowly evening.

"It's 4 o'clock," I stated, as I looked at my phone, "I should probably call Namjoon, but given that the house is packed with cameras, he's already on his way over here."

"Yeah, with a fucking exorcist," Taehyung added and laughed loudly in relief. "What are you doing next weekend?"

I giggled before I turned to look at his face, "I was going to throw an amazing birthday party, but right now, I think I'm gonna treat myself. I fucking deserve it." I uttered, and Taehyung nodded his head, comprehending my words. "Why?"

"I'm gonna intrude that little celebration." Taehyung announced, and I smiled at his bold words.

"Please do."