#It says very loudly that you SHOULD be skeptical of foreigners

[bonefall]

How will you handle the breakup of ShadowClan? While the rebellious apprentices made sense always felt that Darktail should have done more to actively help the rest of ShadowClan and appeal to them as a better leader choice, because in canon it seems they completely arbitrarily decide that they like him as a leader better without explaining why the older cats are going against their xenophobic culture. 

@halogenwarrior

I don’t have a STRONG direction for ShadowClan breaks yet besides knowing that every problem ShadowClan faces, should be related in some way to WindClan refusing to help them. I have strong ideas for how it ends, but the rising action is a bunch of puzzle pieces I haven’t put together yet.

But I DO know that there is a specific problem I want to fix with the rise of the kin; that the ShadowClan apprentices were completely inconsistent.

Darktail first courts them with ANTI-xenophobia, then, a book later, those same apprentices were totally on board with the usual Evil Atheist messaging that WC keeps doing; not feeding elders, training kits, killing indiscriminately, blah blah blah.

One could argue that’s because he started them off on something good, then lead them to bad ideological positions... but I think that’s a stretch. It was weak writing. It’s more of the narrative propping up the Warrior Code as this bizarrely infallible guideline that, without which, cats descend into total lawlessness.

So... what AM I thinking?

WELL, I think I actually want to start the apprentices out as being completely right. Their grievances are probably rash, DEFINITELY not well-spoken, but they ARE born out of compassion. A hard bend towards the Fire Alone ideology. They’re sick of not helping other clans, and of not being helped in turn. When Darktail shows up, he exploits this compassion to get the power he wants.

And by EXPLOIT I mean that he never believed this in the first place. He tells them he named The Kin for being an antithesis to Clans and their emphasis on bloodlines, when he only did that for his own daddy issues. He doesn’t want to take care of the weak and vulnerable. He just needs more cats for his army.

A bunch of cats with similar grievances from other clans join him. Ex-DF trainees, half clan cats, even outsiders who previously would have been excluded from Clan society... and, of course, find themselves unable to leave.

So, many of his ex-followers, like Berryheart, end up taking away the WRONG message here. That outsiders are dangerous. That their institutions will fail them unless they re-commit to their old traditions, reviving the popularity of Thistle Law and setting the stage for The Broken Code.

(and on that note several ex-kin members will probably end up joining the various clans, I do want to try to be clear the problem in this case WAS Darktail and his enforcers, NOT a systemic issue... barring that Onestar’s utter failure created him of course)

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 8

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n i am dying, credits ''every day'' david levithan

TW: homophobia

a/n me messing i saw hanni in edits today and pictures I had to make chapter 8, still credits all to ''every day'' by David levithan, edit: I'm losing my sanity

Day 6006

The phone rings.

I reach for it, thinking it’s Hanni.

Even though it can’t be.

I look at the name on the screen. Austin.

My boyfriend.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hugo! This is your nine a.m. wake-up call. I will be there in an hour. Go make yourself purdy.”

“Whatever you say,” I mumble.

There’s a lot I have to do in an hour.

First, there’s the usual getting up, getting showered, and getting dressed. In the kitchen, I can hear my parents talking loudly in a language I don’t know. It sounds like Spanish but isn’t Spanish, so I’m guessing it’s Portuguese. Foreign languages throw me—I have a beginner’s grasp of a few of them, but I can’t really access a person’s memory fast enough to pretend to be fluent in any of them. I access and find that Hugo’s parents are from Brazil. But that’s not going to help me understand them better. So I steer clear of the kitchen.

Austin is picking Hugo up to go to a gay pride parade in Annapolis. Two of their friends, William and Nicolas, will be coming along. It’s marked on Hugo’s calendar as well as his mind.

Luckily, Hugo has a laptop in his room—since it’s the weekend and a school computer isn’t an option, I am going to risk checking in. I quickly open my email and find something that Hanni sent only ten minutes ago.

Yn,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

H

I click on the link beneath her initial and am taken to the home page of a big Baltimore tabloid website. The headline blares:

THE DEVIL AMONG US!

It’s Haruto’s story, but it’s not only Haruto’s story. This time there are five or six other people from the area claiming to have been possessed by the devil. Much to my relief, none of them besides Haruto are familiar to me. All of them are older than I am. Most claim to have been possessed for a time much longer than a single day.

I would think the reporter would have been more skeptical, but she buys the stories uncritically. She even links to other stories of demonic possession—death-row criminals who claimed they were under the influence of satanic forces, politicians and preachers who were caught in compromising positions and said that something very uncharacteristic had come over them. It all sounds very convenient.

I quickly run Haruto through a search engine and find more coverage. The story, it seems, is going wide.

In article after article, there is one person quoted. Essentially, he says the same thing every time:

“I have no doubt that these are cases of demonic possession,” says Rev. Anderson Poole, who has been counseling Watanabe. “These are textbook examples. The devil is nothing if not predictable.”

“These possessions should come as no surprise,” says Poole. “We as a society have been leaving the door wide open. Why wouldn’t the devil walk right in?”

People are believing this. The articles and posts in the comments sections are legion—all from people who see the devil’s work in everything.

Even though I should know better, I shoot off a quick email to Haruto.

I am not the devil.

I hit send, but I don’t feel any better.

I email Hanni, telling her how it went with Jiwon's father. I also let her know that I’m going to be in Annapolis for the day, and tell her what T-shirt I’m wearing and what I look like.

There’s a honk outside, and I see a car that must be Austin’s. I race through the kitchen and say a hurried goodbye to Hugo’s parents. Then I pile into the car—the boy in the passenger seat (William) moves into the back with the other boy (Nicolas) so I can sit next to my boyfriend. For his part, Austin takes one look at my outfit and tsk-tsks, “You’re wearing that to Pride?” But he’s joking. I think.

There is conversation around me the whole car ride, but I’m not really a part of it. My mind is completely elsewhere.

I shouldn’t have sent Haruto that email.

One simple line, but it admits too much.

From the moment we hit Annapolis, Austin is in his element.

“Isn’t this fun?” he keeps asking.

William, Nicolas, and I nod, agree. In truth, the Annapolis Pride events aren’t that elaborate—in many ways it feels like the navy has turned gay and lesbian for the day, and a ragtag assortment of people have come along to cheer it on. The weather is sunny and cool, and that seems to cheer everyone further. Austin likes to hold my hand and swing it like we’re walking down the yellow brick road. Ordinarily, I’d be charmed. He has every right to be proud, to enjoy this day. It’s not his fault I’m so distracted.

I’m looking for Hanni in the crowd. I can’t help it. Every now and then, Austin catches me.

“See someone you know?” he asks.

“No,” I say truthfully.

She’s not here. She hasn’t made it. And I feel foolish for expecting her to. She can’t just drop her life every time I’m available. Her day is no less important than mine.

We come to a corner where there are a few people protesting the festivities. I don’t understand this at all. It’s like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired.

In my experience, desire is desire, love is love. I have never fallen in love with a gender. I have fallen for individuals. I know this is hard for people to do, but I don’t understand why it’s so hard, when it’s so obvious.

One of the protestor’s signs catches my eye. HOMOSEXUALITY IS THE DEVIL’S WORK, it says. And once again I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear. The cause and effect is backward. The devil doesn’t make anyone do anything. People just do things and blame the devil after.

Predictably, Austin stops to kiss me in front of the protestors. I try to oblige. Philosophically, I am with him. But I’m not inside the kiss. I cannot manufacture the intensity.

He notices. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

I want to check my email on Hugo’s phone, but Austin isn’t letting me out of his sight. When William and Nicolas make a move to get some lunch, Austin says he and I are going to go our own way for a little while.

I assume we’re going to get lunch, too, but instead he pulls me into a hip clothing store and spends the next hour trying things on, with me giving my outside-the-changing-room opinion. At one point, he pulls me into the changing room to steal some kisses, and I oblige. But at the same time, I’m thinking that if we’re inside, there’s no way Hanni is going to find me.

While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Jiwon is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Beomgyu and Soobin in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Keeho later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.

“What do you think?” Austin asks.

“They’re great,” I say.

“You didn’t even look.”

I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.

I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.

“I like them,” I tell him.

“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.

I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”

And Austin said, “Or ten days.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”

And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”

Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.

The start of it.

Hugo would have remembered this.

But I didn’t.

Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”

He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.

“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”

“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.

“Do you even love me?”

I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”

Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”

“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”

Now Austin is shaking his head.

“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.

Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.

“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”

I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.

“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.

This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.

We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other gays and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”

&n

bsp; I keep looking for Hanni, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.

When I get home, there’s an email from her:

Yn,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.

Maybe tomorrow?

H

I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Minji, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?

I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.

Hugo’s mother comes in and says something to me in Portuguese. I only get about half of it.

“I’m tired,” I tell her in English. “I think it’s time for bed.”

I don’t think I’ve addressed her questions, but she just shakes her head—I am a typical, unforthcoming teenager—and heads back to her room.

Before I go to sleep, I decide to see if Haruto has written me back.

He has.

Two words.

Prove it.

[sarahswifts]

Taylor’s bio on her website in 2011

Hi, I'm Taylor. I've been alive for 21 years now, and I finally have my own kitchen. I'm very excited about this, and generally excited by anything else that falls into the "cute" or "cozy" categories. I learned to play guitar when I was twelve from this guy named Ronnie who came over to fix my parents' computer. I like quilts. But that's probably because I'm always freezing cold. I LOVE Nashville. That's where I live, when I'm lucky enough to be there. I love the town so much, I sometimes feel like I should just roll the windows down in my car (nicknamed the Toyoat. Because it's a Toyota) and scream "I LOVE THIS TOWN" loudly out the windows. That wouldn't be weird, right? Every time I try and wink at someone, I mess it up and end up scaring people. My lucky number always has been and always will be 13. It pops up in front of me in the most obvious and undeniable ways, but only when something good is about to happen. I'm a Sagittarius. I think that means I'm always looking for something new. It also means I have a Christmas-themed birthday party every year. I love bright colors and things that make reality seem more whimsical than it is. I have a collection of ribbons and headbands, and I love them all the same.  I over-think and over-plan and over-organize. I've been like this since I was a baby, before I was gigantically tall and over-talkative.

These days, I've been trying to classify my thoughts into two categories: "Things I can change," and "Things I can't." It seems to help me sort through what to really stress about. But there I go again, over-planning and over-organizing my over-thinking! I write songs about my adventures and misadventures, most of which concern love. Love is a tricky business. But if it wasn't, I wouldn't be so enthralled with it. Lately I've come to a wonderful realization that makes me even more fascinated by it: I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to love. No one does! There's no pattern to it, except that it happens to all of us, of course. I can't plan for it. I can't predict how it'll end up. Because love is unpredictable and it's frustrating and it's tragic and it's beautiful. And even though there's no way to feel like I'm an expert at it, it's worth writing songs about -- more than anything else I've ever experienced in my life.

I've apparently been the victim of growing up, which apparently happens to all of us at one point or another. It's been going on for quite some time now, without me knowing it. I've found that growing up can mean a lot of things. For me, it doesn't mean I should become somebody completely new and stop loving the things I used to love. It means I've just added more things to my list. Like for example, I'm still beyond obsessed with the winter season and I still start putting up strings of lights in September. I still love sparkles and grocery shopping and really old cats that are only nice to you half the time. I still love writing in my journal and wearing dresses all the time and staring at chandeliers. But some new things I've fallen in love with -- mismatched everything. Mismatched chairs, mismatched colors, mismatched personalities. I love spraying perfumes I used to wear when I was in high school. It brings me back to the days of trying to get a close parking spot at school, trying to get noticed by soccer players, and trying to figure out how to avoid doing or saying anything uncool, and wishing every minute of every day that one day maybe I'd get a chance to win a Grammy. Or something crazy and out of reach like that. ;) I love old buildings with the paint chipping off the walls and my dad's stories about college. I love the freedom of living alone, but I also love things that make me feel seven again. Back then naivety was the norm and skepticism was a foreign language, and I just think every once in a while you need fries and a chocolate milkshake and your mom. I love picking up a cookbook and closing my eyes and opening it to a random page, then attempting to make that recipe. I've loved my fans from the very first day, but they've said things and done things recently that make me feel like they're my friends -- more now than ever before. I'll never go a day without thinking about our memories together.

For the last two years, I've been writing and recording an album called Speak Now. I only have the option of writing about things that happen in my life, so thankfully a LOT has happened in my life in the last two years. I know I don't always say the right thing at the right time or speak up when I should, but I write it all down. I get my guitar and a pen and all of a sudden, I have a chance to say exactly what I meant to say in real life. Some of the things I wrote about are things everyone saw me go through. Some of the things I wrote about are things nobody ever knew about. I'm beyond excited for you to hear these stories and confessions.

I think it's important that you know that I will never change. But I'll never stay the same either. Must be a Sagittarius thing.

I'm pretty stoked that you read this whole thing. I commend you for that. This was ridiculously long, and you probably have other stuff you could've done in the last four minutes. So to you, or anyone else who has spent four minutes on me in some way-- listening to just one song, or watching one of my videos….Thank you. I love you like I love sparkles and having the last word. And that's real love.

--Taylor

[onlyfortheplot]

Ode to Glitter

➳ Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader ft. Kenma Kozume

➳ Synopsis:

“Why the rush, Chibi-chan?”

First, a glitter mess in your locker, with a stupid confession note. Second, a brief, yet soul-sucking conversation with the first year giant. Now, you had to talk to the Kuroo Tetsurou. You snarled. Why was the universe against you today?

“Not in the mood.” you muttered as you side-stepped, trying to walk around him. But, he only moved in front of you, leaning an arm against the nearby wall. Students looked at you oddly, whispering to their friends nearby. A few girls giggled as they saw Kuroo, an infuriating smirk plastered on his face. Some girls even glared at you, as if you wanted to talk to him.

“Really?” he wiggled his eyebrows, looking down at you, “I could change that.”

➳ Warning: Slight language, mentions of bullying, SLIGHT ANGST?

➳ Word Count: 3.7K

A/N:

I was supposed to do a Daddy Universe fic, but here we are. I have no clue where this idea came from but, nerd Kuroo just hits different???? @boosyboo9206​ Hope you like bb! And @lizbotw you’re bed time story madam. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!!!!! <3

You stared skeptically at the small note in your locker. You shut the metal door, waiting a few seconds before opening it again. But, it was still there, glitter and all. You cringed, thinking about the effort and time it would take to clean it. You closed the locker a second time, looking at the locker number. 284. Yes, this was your locker. Had the person put it in the wrong one? You hesitatingly picked up the note, by the corners. You held it away from your face, as glitter fell onto your shoes. You groaned. Oh how you hated glitter. You looked at the paper, half filled with purple glitter, and half decorated in an array of heart stickers.

You grimaced at the sight. You didn’t know what to feel. Hopeful? Of what. Grateful? Why? No. You really didn’t know what to feel, other than the underlying disgust of glitter. You chucked it back in your locker, not even bothering to open it. It wouldn’t be worth seeing the false words written. In the best case, it was put in her locker by accident. In the worst case, someone had dared them to give her a confession. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Is that a confession, Y/N-senpai?“ You hid a small groan as you turned around looking up at your very tall junior.

“Lev.“ you deadpanned.

“Why do you have a confession?“

You rolled your eyes. You knew that he was blunt, saying whatever came to his mind. But, you just couldn’t help wishing be had a mute button.

“What are you doing on this side, don’t you have practice?“

He shrugged, placing his hands behind his head as he walked in front of you.

“Maybe.“ he confessed, a guilty look flashing in his green eyes, “But you can’t blame— “

“I didn’t ask for your life story, Habia.“

“But, you asked—”

“I asked if you had practice. Not a hundred page essay on your feelings.” you snapped. You barely felt guilty and venting your anger at him. Okay. Maybe a very small part of you, that could care, felt bad. But, you couldn’t help it. Lev was an annoyance on the best days. And now, in the morning, when she has a clown on her tail… You couldn’t deal with both. You didn’t look back, not even as Lev let out a worn-out sigh, walking back, away from you. 

You cracked your knuckles as you quickly glanced at your watch. 7:45. You glanced around the hallway, watching to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately for you, no one seemed to even notice your presence. You smiled, a small smile, as you looked forward. You still had ten minutes before you had to see him. You grimaced at thought, speeding your pace. You did not want to see him in the morning. You had learned his schedule, just the parts that coincided with yours, and made it your priority to avoid him at all costs. A bump in with him was asking for a whole heap of trouble you did not need.

You turned, sharply at the corner. Swallowing slightly, as you glanced at your watch again. 7:50. Well, damn. If you didn’t go any faster, you might as well just wait for him to bump into you. Almost there. Almost—

“Crap,” you swore as you landed into someone’s chest.

“Why the rush, Chibi-chan?”

First, a glitter mess in your locker, with a stupid confession note. Second, a brief, yet soul-sucking conversation with the first year giant. Now, you had to talk to the Kuroo Tetsurou. You snarled. Why was the universe against you today?

“Not in the mood.” you muttered as you side-stepped, trying to walk around him. But, he only moved in front of you, leaning an arm against the nearby wall. Students looked at you oddly, whispering to their friends nearby. A few girls giggled as they saw Kuroo, an infuriating smirk plastered on his face. Some girls even glared at you, as if you wanted to talk to him. 

“Really?” he wiggled his eyebrows, looking down at you, “I could change that.”

You gave him a disgusted glare, eyeing him up and down.

“No thank you,” your smile was coating with toxins, seeping into the teeth you were showing.

“Are you sure, Chibi-chan?” he whispered, as he brought his head to your ear. You fought the urge to shiver, as his hot breath fanned over your head.

You rolled your eyes, pushing him away as you walked away. He smiled at your figure as you walked towards your class. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. His smile flickered as the feeling of yet another rejection sits in. 

                                                   *＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You sat down, on the chair, tucking yourself in slightly as you flipped through your Chemistry textbook. It wasn’t that you were bad at chemistry. You just weren’t the best. The mere idea of atoms and ions were enough to make you flinch. Not to mention the sub-categories of cations and anions. You just didn’t see the reason for learning about things you couldn’t see, much less feel.

You sighed, leaning your head against your shoulder, stretching your strained neck. You heard the slight crack and moaned quietly at the feeling. 

“Still have to finish this.“ you murmured to yourself as you picked up a pen and a piece of paper. But, you were blank. You had the materials and you had time. But, you just didn’t understand. You peered at your work, as if it was written in a foreign language. Words went in your head and out. Nothing stuck and nothing made sense. You would much rather spend your time doing something that actually did make sense like Biology. That made sense. Hell, even Math made sense compared to this. You scratched your head with the rubber of your pencil.

It was quiet in the library, making you squirm. It was the library, you supposed, you just weren’t used to the quiet. Maybe that’s why it’s hard to concentrate. You just weren’t used to the quiet. People came in and out of the library, slamming doors and talking loudly. Some even had the audacity to blast out music. Most of the time the air was soaked with loud whispers of her gossiping peers, or the soundless signs of mockery. You weren’t used to the quiet. And you weren’t used to the idea of being left alone. 

You sighed, trying to fill the vacancy of the library. It was an odd, almost uncomfortable feeling. And you couldn’t help but think that it was the calm before the storm. You squirmed in your seat at the thought. 

“No, you need to focus“ you told yourself, attempting to calm yourself down. You took a deep breath, burying your face in the textbook. You were swallowing each word, slowly, taking a deep breath every time you didn’t understand.

Cation has a positive charge. Anion has a negative one.

“Cation is positive. Anion is negative.“ you repeated, closing your eyes, “Cation is positive. Anion is negative. Cation is negative and Anion is positive.“

“No.“

You opened your eyes, your heart racing as you looked behind. You glared, almost hitting him in the face with your book. As you placed a hand on your chest and turned around. Your face was beet red and your heart was beating in a pace humanly impossible. You didn’t want him looking at you like that.

“Don’t do that.“ you hissed at Kuroo.

“I can’t help myself Chibi-chan,“ he chuckled as he smoothly pulled a chair next to yours. You glared at him, making an obvious gesture of moving away from him. You thought you had seen his smile flicker at that.

“You’re wrong by the way,“ he nodded towards your open textbook, “Cation’s are positive. Anion’s are negative.“

You frowned. Isn’t that what you said.

“I said — “

“Nope,“ he popped the ‘p’ childishly, “You said the opposite.“

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What could you say. Heat flared in you ears. You felt awkward, almost vulnerable, that he had caught you in the wrong.

“I—“

“Do you need help?“ He looked so genuine when he asked, his usual irritating smirk was replaced with what seemed like a real smile.

“No.“ You wanted to say ‘yes’. To accept the assistance that Kuroo was providing. But, you couldn’t find it in your heart to say ‘yes’. You couldn’t accept this Kuroo. This person who cared. This person who...who wasn’t the person you had painted in your mind.

He looked at you, as if he could see the conflict. He nodded, pushing his chair away from you, standing up.

“You got a confession this morning.“ It wasn’t a question. You knew he knew. He was only trying to start a conversation.

“Yes.“ There was no point in lying. Not when you looked into those steadfast eyes. He burrowed his hands in his pocket, leaning back slightly as he looked at you.

“You should read it, you might enjoy it.“ The smile was forced. From both sides. 

“Sure.“ you said in a strained voice. There was no point in asking him how he knew what was written in it.

You sighed, glancing at the textbook and then at Kuroo.

You can’t have it all.

                                                  *＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Do you have 11 protons? Cause your sodium fine.”

“You must be fluorine cause you are polarizing my bond?“

“Did they just call me salt?“ you screeched into the phone, gagging as specks of glitter fell on your bed, “I can’t believe they called me salt. Kenma are you even —”

“They said fluorine, Y/N, not sodium,“ he muttered, you could here the sounds of his joystick. The small clicking almost comforting to your heated brain. Sodium. Potassium. Fluorine. It didn’t matter. 

“So! This is— is, damage to my brain.“ You threw down the confession on the bed, huffing at it, “Who would send this.“

“Someone who likes chemistry,“ 

“Couldn’t be me,“ you retorted, as you looked at the glittery mess on your bed, “And why would they use glitter?“ You shivered at the word. Glitter will forever be the bane of your existence.

“I bet it was Kuroo,” you spat his name.

“What makes you think that,“ Kenma had ceased his game, a silence rung in your ear at the lack of noise.

“Glitter.” you deadpanned. Your disdain for the item wasn’t a hidden thing. You had made it obvious on several occasions. Scoffing softly at people who wore it, sprinkling it all over the hallway. Rolling your eyes at the offer to use it on a school project. You had even gone as far to sit away from people who had or used it. Glitter, to put it simply, was a pain in your butt.

“Glitter,“ If you didn’t know Kenma any better, you would have called him intrigued.

“Glitter, is the worst invention of man kind.” you emphasized, ignoring the long sigh of annoyance from the other side of the line, “So of course that over-sized, gigantic, huge—“

“Do you need a dictionary?“ he asked dryly, the clicking of his joystick resumed.

“To hit his head with?“ you snapped back. “Yes — ”

A loud, obnoxious thump of your made you twitch. What now. 

“I’ll call you back Kenma,“ you quickly cut the call, stomping down the steps and throwing the door open.

“Hello?“

You snarled, your fingers curling into a tight fist. What joke was this. 

“Hello?“

There was no one there. You looked down.

“What the...“

You didn’t know whether you wanted to see what it was. It was almost identical to the letter you had seen in your locker. Expect this time, the letter had been plastered with red glitter, a small outline remained on your front steps. 

You wanted to throw a fit right there. Glitter. Who in their right mind uses glitter. Even the word made you pissed.

“Just wait until I find out who you are.“ you threatened, precariously picking up the letter.

Ugh.

                                                 *＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Hey baby,“ you read the letter out loud, “I got my ion you?“

“So?“ he didn’t look up from his game, his fingers moving smoothly over the phone.

“It’s creepy!“ you complained, leaning back against the bleachers.

You had joined Kenma on his walk to school, only to whine and complain about her quote-on-quote secret admirer. Although,you, wouldn’t call this person that.

Stalker. Weirdo. Were the words that came to your mind.

“But, Kenma!” you gestured rapidly with your hands “Isn’t this — I dunno odd?“

“What?“

“That someone’s sending me this.“you rubbed your temples, “I mean, I get its a joke, but do they have to take it so far?“

“What if it’s not a joke?“ he paused his game looking up at you.

“It always is,“ you airily said, “Always.“

“And you’ve always have gotten confessions?”

“Not real ones,“ you confessed, “Just immature people doing immature things.“

You really didn’t want to talk about. It really was a hit to your ego. Your pride. Your self-esteem. That one joke, from years ago, still affected you. Hurt you.

It hurt. Even if, as those kids said, a ‘joke’. The only people that laughed at it was that one boy. Who had pointed at you, as tears streamed down your face, a crumpled pieced of paper in your hand, laughing.

They had laughed at you. And it hurt. They had laughed at your stupidity. And it hurt. Maybe that’s why it was such a far-fetched thing. Mutual pining. Love. You had made sure —forced yourself to not be stupid. Not be naive. Even if it made you the sore thumb of your grade. Even it made you lonely. Your heart wasn’t broken. Not like those girls who got rejected for joy.

“Chibi-chan are you here to watch me play?“

You snapped out of your thoughts, physically moving back. It was like a rubber band. Your head pounded.

“Tetsurou,“ you snarled, rubbing your forehead, “Can you say something before you creep up on me like that?“

“First name basis?“ he wiggled his eyebrows, barking a laugh at your outraged glare.

“Make yourself useful and turn into compost.“ you hissed, as you glanced at Kenma, “I’ve leaving now.“

“Okay,“ he mumbled too engrossed in his game to really care.

“Y/N!“ you heard Kuroo calling after you. Rolling your eyes, you flipped your hair over a shoulder looking at him.

“What?”

“Uh—I just want to say—”

“Spit it out, Tetsurou,” you crossed your arms, tapping a foot annoyed.

“I want to stick to you like cyanoacrylate.” he blurted out, 

“What?” you glared at him. Was this a… chemistry joke.

“I want to stick to you like cyanoacrylate.” He repeated, slowly.

“I don’t get what's —cyanoacrylate.”

“It’s a—” he looked conflicted as he sought out the right words, “It’s a glue.”

“You want to stick to me,” you deadpanned, “like glue.”

He nodded fervently, looking at you with bright eyes.

You gave him a small, slowly walking over to him. You grabbed his tie, pulling him to your level.

“Look here, Mr. Kuroo, I have spent two days being spammed with these so called pick-up-lines. I have spent hours—hours— getting glitter off my bed, my hair and my clothes.” He gulped at your angry eyes, “I am going to walk back, to where I was before, and will give you a chance to recant that statement you made.”

“But,—”

“And I don’t want any ifs, ands, or buts.” you glared at him with a threatening gaze, “Understood?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Kuroo, I am not playing your games. I am sick and tired of this.” you snapped, letting go of his tie and pushing him back, “I am not your source of amusement. Or of entertainment. Go find some other stupid girl to play with. I am—”

“You must be fluorine cause you are polarizing my bond?“

The exact same line from your first confession.

“Do you have 11 protons? Cause your sodium fine.”

“What — “

“It’s not a joke, Y/N. I wrote those notes. And I really do — “

“No.“ you shook your head, “It was a joke. You were trying to make fun of me.“

“Y/N, no I swear! I — “

“No. You’re going to laugh at me in the end.“ your voice cracked as tears threatened to leave your eyes.

“Y/N — “

“No.“ 

You backed away, rushing out of the gym doors. Your heart was beating. You cheeks were hot.

You wanted it to be true. But, you knew that it couldn’t. It would never be true.

You can’t have it all.

                                                *＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“You’re not going to say anything.“

You shrugged. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to think about it. You allowed silence to fill up the walk home, even Kenma hadn’t said anything till now.

“What is there to say.“ your voice was dry, from the tears you had wept in a closed stall.

“Sorry,“ Kenma offered, “You didn’t mean it.

“I did,“ you lied through your teeth.

“No.“ Kenma seemed so sure of it. You sighed.

“I want it to be true. But it’s not.“ you whispered the last part.

“Who said it wasn’t true.”

“Kuroo acts like that to everyone,“ you said sharply, mostly trying to convince yourself.

“No, he doesn’t.“

“Yes, he does. He treats all girls like that.“

“He—“ You hesitated. He really didn’t do it to anyone else, or at least from what you had seen. Sure, he had gotten many confession over the three years you had known him. But, from what you knew, he had rejected every single one. Never, not once, had you seen him flirt with a girl. Never, not once, had you seen him hurt one.

“He must do it to someone,“ you were desperate as you looked at Kenma.

“He looks like that, but really,“ he paused his game, looking you in the eye, “he isn’t.“

You didn’t need him to say it. You knew it. After all, that was why you had fallen for him. He was kind —even when those on him were judgmental. He was patient, where many were not. He was different, you wanted to believe that. He was different from those boys who had played a prank on you. He was different from the boy who had given you a fake love letter. He was different from the boys who had hurt you. And maybe, during your desperate moments of trying to believe the opposite...you had hurt him.

“Kenma,“ you said halting your pace, “where is he?“

“In the gym,“ Kenma responded as if he had expected that question, as if he had planned for this exact moment,

“I have to go,“ you said as you sprinted off in the other direction.

You can’t have it all. But you could try and keep it.

                                               *＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Serve, set, spike.“ he muttered under his breath, as he threw a volleyball in the air. It spun, in a perfect rotation, before colliding with his bare palm. It stung. But, it didn’t hurt more than the sting in his heart.

He hadn’t cried yet. Not that he planned to. But, he wanted to. He wanted to scream and shout and wail. But, he couldn’t so he continued throwing the ball up and spiking it too the floor.

Serve. Set. Spike.

It was a mechanical movement, something that occurred on instinct.

Serve. Set. Spike.

He hadn’t expected a yes. He hadn’t really known what to expect. He had caught you multiple times staring at him. Had caught the seemingly longing glances that you had thrown his way. He had caught the slight spark of anger in your eye as other girls threw their affection. He had caught the almost defensive posture that you claimed when anyone talked about him.

But, he had also caught you inching farther from him, almost disgusted by his presence. He had caught the scowl that formed on your pretty lips at the mere mention of his name. He had caught the annoyed look as he passed by, throwing you a small smile.

But, he had taken his chances. Starting of with a letter. A letter of the best pick-up-lines he could think of in that moment. Maybe it was his handwriting, maybe you didn’t like that. Maybe it was the sentences themselves, maybe you didn't understand it. Maybe it was —

“Tetsurou Kuroo, how dare you.“

The ball fell on the floor making a satisfying sound. He turned, shocked, towards you.

“How. Dare. You“ you said between heavy pants.

“Y/N?“ he didn’t dare take any step closer.

“How dare you, not tell me how you feel.“

He felt pinned by your stare, and had it not been for the confusion and shock he would have thrown the glittery notes in your face.

“How dare you.”

“I told you!” he rose his hands in surrender.

“By using cringe, chemistry pick up lines.”

So it was the sentences after all.

“I didn’t understand any of those!”

“But, they’re science pick-up-lines,“ he said weakly.

“Chemistry pick up lines, Tetsurou.“you looked like you were about to strangle him, “Chemistry! I can’t even remember the difference between a cation and an anion”

“One’s positive and the other—“

“The point is, you didn’t make yourself clear.“ 

You walked up to him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down, just like you had done before.

“And let me tell you Kuroo, the glitter didn’t help your case.“

Oh. Maybe it was the glitter.

“What, I’m trying to say is,“ he was half-amused by your incoherent blabber, “If you made it clear what you felt, I would have said yes.”

Oh. Maybe it was nothing.

“You would have said, yes?“ he looked down at you. At your blushing self.

“Yes.“

“You said it now,“ he teased,halfheartedly.

“Come here you nerd,“ you pulled his shoulders roughly as you covered his lips with your own. His eyes fluttered close in an instant.

“Glitter,“ you mumbled on his lips.

“What,“ he was only half aware of what was happening.

“Next time, don’t use glitter.“

He wouldn’t. Next time.

He smirked, pulling you in by your waist, resuming the kiss.

You couldn’t have everything. But, you sure as hell could try.

[inspired-by-the-music]

Honey: Jungwoo x Reader

Genre: fluff; hogwarts au

Word Count: 2k

Featuring: Hufflepuff Jungwoo, Hufflepuff Reader, Slytherin Taemin (as Jungwoo’s brother!), Ravenclaw Jaehyun, Gryffindor Mark, and Slytherin Ten

Note: considering that Jungwoo is my nct 127 bias (along with Taeil of course) I cannot believe that this is my first time writing about him!

Had all of the compartments of the daunting— albeit magnificent— Hogwarts Express not been filled to capacity, you never would have met him. 

Clinging to your cat, named Pumpkin for his orange fur that made your eyes water, your only token from home in this strange new magical world, you tiptoed into a compartment near the back of the train. It was empty except for the pair of boys sitting by the window. You sat on the seat opposite them, as close as possible tot he door, and fought to keep your gaze on anything but them. That proved impossible, though, once you caught a glimpse of them. 

"Here's some money if you want to get something from the trolly," said the elder boy. His black hair framed his pale face in a way that brought your attention to his striking eyes. They were a bright shade of green that matched his tie. They glistened like a pair of emeralds. Unnatural. Magical. 

The younger boy, accepting the coins in both hands, looked very much like the elder. They shared the same angled eye shape, the same long eyelashes, the same plush pink lips. The only differences were that the younger boy's hair was a honey-blonde color, his cheeks were fuller and rosier, and his eyes were warm brown. Natural. Still magical. 

As he rose to his feet, the elder caught you staring. He greeted you with a closed-mouth grin and waved both hands. "It looks like you have an admirer, Jungwoo. Try befriending her." 

Your eyes followed him out of the compartment until you were distracted by the sound of shuffling and somebody clearing their throat. 

It was the younger boy, Jungwoo, now sitting directly in front of you.  When you looked at him, startled enough by his sudden proximity to stare right into his wide-open eyes, you were surprised to find that his face was crimson. More startling— his hair, starting from the roots, was transforming from honey blonde to dark maroon to match his blush. 

You gasped, "Your hair!" pointing like you had never been taught manners. You realized your mistake once his blush deepened and his hand rose to pat at his hair. 

"Oh. That." Jungwoo giggled, so you had to giggle too even though you didn't understand what was funny. His broad smile revealed a pair of oversized teeth right at the center of his mouth. Maybe that was supposed to be a flaw, but the fluttering of your heart argued otherwise. "I'm a metamorphmagus!"

Your brow furrowed. "A metamorph-ma-what?" 

Again, Jungwoo laughed, but it wasn't a laugh that made you feel at all self-conscious. It was a laugh that pulled up at the corners of your mouth, which had been fixed in a wobbly line since your parents left you at Platform 9 3/4. 

"A metamorphmagus!" He repeated. Realizing that you had never heard the word before, Jungwoo explained, "It means that I can change my appearance at will. Sometimes, like now, my appearance changes with my emotions. Taemin embarrassed em, so my hair turned fire-truck red, right?" 

Nodding to answer his question, you said, "Taemin?" Only in hindsight are you embarrassed that you were more fascinated by the beautiful older boy's equally beautiful name than you were by Jungwoo's unique innate magical ability. 

Jungwoo's smile faltered, but he entertained your curiosity nonetheless. "Yeah. Taemin. He's my older brother."

You wondered, "Is he a metamorphmagus too?" figuring that magic was the only means through which anybody could look that alluring. 

"He naturally looks like that, if that's what you're wondering," Jungwoo said matter-of-factly, almost rolling his eyes. "He only ever changes his eye color. Sometimes he makes his hair blonde. Guess there's not much to change when you're born perfect." 

Jungwoo dropped his gaze to watch his slender fingers pick at the seat. It didn't take a genius to gather that he was jealous of his brother. That was natural enough, you guessed, but you couldn't quite understand Jungwoo's scowl. 

You told him, "You look like Taemin," and Jungwoo's face and hair burned an even darker shade of red. 

Jungwoo raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really?" 

"Really." You nodded your head and allowed Pumpkin to leap out of your lap. Watching him settle into the space beside Jungwoo, grinning as Jungwoo reached out to pet him, you confessed, "I think you're cuter." Carefully, you omitted that pretty was the better word for Taemin. 

"Really?" Jungwoo asked, failing (or maybe not even trying) to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. His hair turned pale pink. You wondered what pink signified if red resulted from embarrassment, but it seemed rude to ask outright. 

"Really!" You smiled. Noticing his yellow tie, you pointed and asked, "What do the colors mean? Taemin's tie was green, and yours is yellow." 

Jungwoo never asked outright if you were Muggle-born, but it must have been obvious that you were. He never treated your ignorance as a convenience. If anything, he seemed to enjoy explaining his world to you. 

"The colors represent different houses." His hand absentmindedly clutched around his tie. "You know about the sorting ceremony, right?" 

"Yeah." 

Prior to the start of the term, an official from the school visited your home and explained some general things about Hogwarts and the Wizarding World, but most of the information had been too foreign, too abstract to resonate in your mind. 

"Taemin's tie was green because he was sorted into Slytherin. You might have seen his Head Boy badge, too, if you were looking hard enough. That means he's in charge of all the Prefects and stuff, but you don't have to worry about that. You can't be a Prefect until your fifth year. Just listen to the people wearing badges, and you should be fine." 

Jungwoo's embarrassment, jealousy, and whatever caused his hair to turn pink must have faded. As he talked about his brother, his hair returned to the honey-blonde color that you assumed must have been the default. You were glad; he looked cutest with his blonde hair and brown eyes that matched his yellow tie. 

"What does yellow mean?" You asked him. "And what year are you?" 

"I'm a second-year," Jungwoo said, placing himself just one year ahead of you. "And yellow is the color of my house: Hufflepuff." 

"Hufflepuff." You smiled around the word. It was cute. "I hope I get sorted there too." 

Jungwoo stared at you like you had grown a second head. "Are you serious? Nobody, except the true Hufflepuffs of course, ever says that they want to be in our house." 

"Well," you shrugged, "I do. My only friend in the whole school— in the whole Wizarding World-- is in Hufflepuff!"

"Your only— oh!" Jungwoo broke into a big smile, the one that flaunted his oversized front teeth and made your heart flutter. "Well, then— wait—" he giggled— "what's your name?" 

Holding your hand out for him to shake, you told him your name.

"Well, then, Y/N," he made your name new as he accepted your hand, "I hope you get sorted into Hufflepuff too!"

With both of you hoping for the same thing over a shared mountain of candy purchased with Taemin's money, how could the Sorting Hat have sent you anywhere other than Jungwoo's side? From that moment Jungwoo winked at you as he touched his goblet of pumpkin juice to yours, you were inseparable within the walls of the castle (except, of course, during classes, where you were separated due to your age difference). 

You would have been lost without him, especially during that first year. He warned you not to get on Professor Snape's bad side, and he insisted that Professor McGonagall's assignments were to be prioritized above others, and he taught you all of the best routes to get to your classes without being derailed by the moving staircases, and he told you that you could turn to Professor Sprout— your head of house— for help with almost anything. When he made the mistake of taking Divination in his third year, he warned you against following in his footsteps. When he was allowed to visit Hogsmeade with Ten and Jaehyun (his friends from Slytherin and Ravenclaw, respectively), he was sure to bring samples of all the candy in Honeydukes back to the common room to share with you. 

He wouldn't let you pay him back no matter how much you insisted. "You can make it up to me when you go to Hogsmeade with us," Jungwoo said as if it were all about the candy, probably assuming that you would forget the debt within the year. 

Over the following years, you made it your mission to repay his every kindness. When Jungwoo debuted as the chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, you cheered so loudly that everybody in the school gathered that you had a crush on him (and you said nothing to dispel the rumors). When he found his passion for wildlife through Care of Magical Creatures, you would listen to him ramble about winged horses and phoenixes long after everyone else— even Jaehyun— lost interest. 

When you huddled together in the warmth of the Three Broomsticks after trudging through the early December snow, you slapped your sickles down on the table to pay for his Butterbeer before Jungwoo even had the chance to blink. 

"I sure wish I was Y/N's favorite," Mark— a Gryffindor who became your second best friend after years of solidarity in Defense Against the Dark Arts— grumbled as he stood to fish through his pockets for money. 

Jaehyun laughed. His was never a cruel laugh. It was just a light chuckle that barely wrinkled his eyes. "Keep wishing, dude. Don't you know that Jungwoo and Y/N are, like, soulmate best friends?" 

"Yeah!" Ten sang, laughing and pointing at your blush and the red streaking through Jungwoo's hair. "They're gonna get married one day. Or at least kiss in the Room of Requirement!"

While Mark hesitantly joined Ten in laughter, and you should have denied wanting to marry or at least kiss Jungwoo, you asked, "What's the Room of Requirement?" 

Having gone too red in the face (and hair) to even enjoy his Butterbeer, Jungwoo shrugged and stared down at the table. You might have tried to brighten his mood by ruffling his hair or pinching at his cheeks if Jaehyun hadn't captured your attention with his explanation. 

"It's a secret room within the school that reveals itself when a person is in great need of it," Jaehyun explained. Dimples formed around his smile. "Apparently, it will come equipped with whatever you need! Isn't that amazing?"

You smiled in support of Jaehyun's very Ravenclaw-esque appreciation of magic. "Does wanting to kiss Jungwoo count as a great need?" 

As laughter fell over the table, and Jungwoo stiffened at your side, biting down on his smile, Ten hummed, "I dunno. Guess it depends on how much you wanna kiss him!"

Noticing quickly that your gaze had fallen onto the table and that even your ears were tinted pink from embarrassment, Jungwoo eagerly changed the subject. "Did you know that Dumbledore has a phoenix in his office?" 

Jaehyun said, "You've mentioned it once or twice." 

"Oh, Fawkes?" Ten shrugged as he gulped down his Butterbeer. "Yeah, he's pretty cool, I guess. He's not the coolest thing in Dumbledore's office, though." 

Unfamiliar with the antics that often sent Ten to the headmaster's office, and even less familiar with Jungwoo's fascination with magical creatures that would likely one day lure him into some place far more dangerous than Dumbledore's study, Mark gasped. "You guys have actually been to Dumbledore's office?" Mark wasn't a particularly reckless sort of Gryffindor. He was exceptionally honorable— the kind who never once lost his house any points. 

"Dozens of times!" Ten boasted and excitedly told Mark of every adventure he had since arriving at Hogwarts. 

You listened, though not with nearly as much enthusiasm as Mark, who sat on the edge of his seat as Ten recounted his first walk through the Forbidden Forest. You were much more interested in Jungwoo. His hair had returned almost entirely to its familiar honey-blonde shade save for the few strands of pink that remained and darkened when he caught you staring at him. 

"What is it?" Jungwoo spoke quietly, as if afraid to attract attention from the others in the group as if there was any way to steal the spotlight from Ten. "Do I have something on my face?" 

"No." You shook your head and reached out for one of the colored streaks in his hair. Jungwoo didn't flinch away. "I'm just wondering: what does pink mean, Woo?" 

"You've always had a lot of questions," he said, blushing. He hesitated briefly before saying, "My hair turns pink when somebody makes my heart flutter. My hair turns pink around you a lot, doesn't it?" 

You smiled at the way he bashfully averted his gaze. "Yeah, but that's okay. If I were a metamorphmagus, my hair would turn pink around you too. You know, since I like you. Always. Since that first day on the train." 

"You like me?" Jungwoo sighed, failing (or maybe not even trying) to keep the smile from his face. "Like, you'd want to kiss me in the Room of Requirement?" 

Lowering your voice to a whisper to deny Ten fuel for teasing, you dared to admit, "Like, I'd want to kiss you right here. Right now. You know, if we were alone." 

As he always had, Jungwoo took your words to heart. So suddenly that Ten fell silent to watch, slackjawed, with Jaehyun and Mark, Jungwoo stood. He grabbed your hand and led you out into the frozen winter where he gave you the first of many kisses, his lips' taste of butterscotch swelling your heart and covering you in unseasonal warmth. 

Suffice it to say that he liked you too. Always. Since that first day on the train. 

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

The Not So Lonesome Knight Ch#18

continued from here X

It’s not foreign to Bonnie. There’s something distinctly unnerving about the Colombian at her side, presently prodding her with his gun. The longer she stared, the greater a sensation like an ever widening void in sinking sand becomes. With every inch deeper the hole became, the worse the feeling gnawed at her. She ought to know him from somewhere! Somewhere recent too. With her extensive memory, she should be able to recollect his name or his voice, without having to try THIS hard. Where had she seen him before?! The question burns relentlessly in her mind.

A questioning glance is cast towards Michael. His own countenance contained a determined scowl. Between his ferocious leerings, his darkening azure orbs boasted a calculating edge. He doesn’t seem to be aware that one of the guys could possibly be an old or new acquaintance. What he was thinking, Bonnie could not hazard a guess to, nor does she want to. Although she does pray that he is formulating some kind of plan.

When Knight caught the brunette’s wondering eye, his entire appearance softened. A half wistful hint of a smile is cast deliberately towards her. He didn’t care what the goons thought or how they’d react when he extended his large hand reassuringly towards her. She is his first and foremost priority.

The act earned him a sharp jab between the ribs. The sweltering bruise was entirely worth it in his book. Michael knew how desperately she needed reassurance right now. His confident and swift stride is tapered down to match Bonnie’s more frightened ones. They were in this together. They always have been and with any luck, they always would be.

His proffered hand is accepted without hesitation. Bonnie’s own delicate porcelain fingers curl tightly around his own. She clings to his hand as dearly as she did life. This too earned her a poke in the side with the barrel of a gun. Unlike Michael who only grunted in pain, she stutter-stepped, nearly folding inwards with agony. If it hadn’t been for Michael’s quick thinking, she might have collapsed.

“Keep movin’. Or I’ll decide to empty the whole magazine.” Growled the Colombian nearest to Michael. The man’s teeth flashed with vehement interest in the promise he just made. The snide likes of which, was just barely discernable as they approached the looming, post-midnight darkness.

Alarm pulses palpably through Knight’s system. It’s not a threat he takes lightly given the circumstances surrounding this case. “Easy, Bon.” Michael gritted between clenched teeth. He refused to let her get shot over something so infuriatingly stupid. “Let’s just do as they say for now.” The former cop knew compliance was the best option. They were severely outnumbered, and the odds just seemed to keep stacking against them. “Maybe we’ll find out where they’ve taken Kent.” He whispers nearly inaudibly. Or so he wishfully anticipated. That is, if this and their present case were connected. Michael had every reason to suspect that they were until proven otherwise.

Bonnie winces, her stiff stance straightens in correspondence with his words. While she’d have been tempted to throw a punch with her free-hand, it only curls into a tightened ball at her side. She hates this! She’s not even afraid to show it. Michael is right. They had no choice but to follow the Colombian’s orders. It is hard, but she swallows down a thick wad of contempt rising in her throat.

Michael’s steps slow even further. This time, the stalling movement was deliberate. Unintentionally, he drops Bonnie’s hand for anxiety caused them to spread wide. The Colombians capitalize on the mistake, putting distance between them.

His azure eyes flash around the dimly lit parking-lot seeking out Kitt’s presence. To Michael’s dismay, the sleek black Trans-am had vanished. There’s no trace or inkling of Kitt’s luminous red scanner piercing through the blackness.

Pins and needles curl down every inch of the FLAG agents skin. Kitt didn’t just go offline or disappear without having a good reason. So where had he gone? Why wasn’t Kitt answering the cries for help over the comlink? He wasn’t prone to systems malfunctions. So why were they failing so spectacularly when he needed Kitt the most? They didn’t just break or die. Bonnie’s work was some of the best in the world. Better than the black-boxes of airplanes, he reminds himself again. What did all of this have to do with the robbery? Furthermore, what did all of this have to do with Kent Steven’s disappearance? Had he been in negotiations with the Colombians? Was this all a set up? Every corner Michael turned seemed to attract a hundred more questions like an endless magnetic train, but no answers. Not even a one. His jaw twitches with frustration as he grits his teeth. He didn’t mind walking into a trap, but doing so with Bonnie at his side made him feel sick to his stomach.

She shivers against the cold prodding of the night’s air against her bare legs. Perhaps, she would have been better off putting on her dirty clothes after her shower than Michael’s shirt. At least they allowed her to put her shoes on. Walking the glass and pebble, strewn parking-lot without them would have been a real nightmare.

Bonnie’s gaze instinctively follows Michael’s about the lot. At nearly the same moment, she realizes Kitt’s absence. Her own mind floods with a trillion similar questions.

Before any efforts could be made to put pieces of this ever warping puzzle together, they are ushered towards a large idling U-haul truck. Other than the faded logo on the side, the truck was fairly non-descript. That was good for the Colombians and very, very unfortunate for the FLAG agents. If one of them would by chance, make it to safety, the only description that could be given would marginally be unhelpful.

The rumble of the engine amplifies with every step propelled towards it.

“Where are ya taking us?” Michael challenged the head enforcer. He gifts his words in a tone that demanded answers. “Come on, man. Ya owe us that much.” He knows that by merely posing this question, he’s inviting the Colombian enforcer’s ire.  Pushing his luck one step further, he continues. “Sides what’s your boss Calderone have to do with any of this?”

The large enforcer’s hand meets Michael’s shoulder with crushing force. A gold toothy-grin is his malicious reward. “You’ll soon find out. Yes?” A disturbing air of glee-filled mirth lights up the man’s face.

It was enough pressure to cause the former undercover cop to wince in agony. His eyes squint closed for a minute as he tries to curtail the urge to say something he might regret.

Then shoving Michael towards the empty trailer, he adds, “and I owe you and your lady friend nada. I’m sure Senior Calderone and his mistress feel the same.”

“Get in.” The Colombian guard at Bonnie’s side roughly orders. His own free hand pushes her towards the downed ramp.

Skeptically, her eyes linger in the hollow shell of Uhaul. In the dim street-side light of the Motel’s parking-lot, she couldn’t discern anything the size of Kitt’s presence. He’s not here - either! Her heart sinks with a heavy thud in her chest.

Swallowing sharply, she peers back at Michael. She’s silently observing, bowing to Knight’s lead. Every once of common sense is telling her not to go anywhere with these brutes and yet, it would seem neither FLAG agent had much of a choice. Did they?

“Andele!” The Colombian at her side impatiently instructs. The gun is jabbed in her side again.

She’s stonewalling. He can see the fear coiled in her eyes in even the scant yellow glow cast over the truck. Michael couldn’t blame her. He held the same intense reservations. Yet, the guys with the guns are expert motivators.

Grimly, he nods. He knows she’ll understand the wordless command he offered.  When the guard at Bonnie’s side threatens to pick her up like a sack of potatoes, Michael rushes his last several paces to make it to her side. He certainly didn’t need or want her to be more manhandled because of her slow compliance. “Come on, Bons. Ya can sit next ta me.” He chummily remarks offering her once again the comfort of his hand.

She clambers in at Michael’s side. With another glance cast towards her guard, the spell of Deja Vu breaks like the oncoming dawn of a new day over her. She gasps loudly. The sound resonating in the hollow void surrounding them.

Michael tugged her closer to him as they both sat. Worry flashes across his face when she gasps. “What? What is it?” He questions with his alarm swelling exponentially. Whatever she discovered, he was sure that he was going to despise it.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Ten Sides (Part 29)

TyLee and Mai sit with her in the palace garden. She lets TyLee play around with her hair, allows the girl to braid her locks while Mai talks about how things have been around the palace. Things are still somewhat tense but Aang’s reassurances and input go a long way.

She thinks that she should feel relief. Joy. Gratitude. This is her second chance. Glorious redemption. The one that everyone swears is beautiful and powerful. But she only feels weak. Weak and stupid.

She is afraid of what she is becoming. Of who she is becoming. Afraid that this person, whoever she is, is too vulnerable, not strong enough. No matter how much Aang assures her, she feels different. Weaker, vulnerable. And maybe that is simply the byproduct of opening up, perhaps too soon. It might also be the result of stress finally catching up to her in full. Or maybe it is normal to feel this way; to feel somewhat exposed. Maybe she has been so closed up all of her life that even leaving the door just slightly ajar is now the same as removing it entirely.

When she speaks of herself, no matter how minute the detail, she always feels like she has said too much. Or that what she had said was the wrong thing. But Aang grins and TyLee seems to relax. This time she laughs, “it’s nice to see the real you, Azula.”

And Azula’s stomach lurches, because that’s just it. She isn’t sure if this is the real her. Her words are authentic, her feelings are honest, her actions are genuine and wholly hers. And yet they feel foreign, as though someone else is making the decisions for her. It feels uncannily similar to having the threads of her aura pulled by Aang. And yet it also feels true and real.

Apparently she has grown too quiet because Mai asks her if she is okay. And she nods, “just thinking again.” Sometimes she wishes that she could stop thinking. Most of the time she does.

“What’s wrong?” Aang asks anyway.

“Nothing, Avatar.” She might tell him later.

TyLee steps back and beams from ear to ear. “You look so pretty!” She clasps her hands together.

“Thank you.” Azula replies. “Let me do yours?”

“Of course!” Somehow she manages to smile wider. “And then you can do Mai’s.”

“We’ll see how yours turns out.” Azula mumbles. “I can barely fashion my own topknot, so I won’t promise anything elegant.”

Mai chuckles. “Are you actually admitting that she’s better at something than you?”

She knows that it was a harmless comment, a good natured joke. And she might have taken it well if she wasn’t feeling so out of sorts already. If it hadn’t come as one more confirmation of the changes she is afraid of. She tries her best to answer in kind. She clears her throat, “absolutely not, I would never.”

Apparently she has, for once, managed to strike a tone that conveyed hearty banter because all three of them laugh. She manages a small smile.

“If you do a good job with Mai and TyLee I’d love for you to try to braid my hair.”

Azula rolls her eyes, “grow some hair and we can talk, Avatar.”

He laughs again and slings an arm over her shoulder. Her tummy still flutters at his affections. Though she can’t say that it is unpleasant. Not so far as the feeling itself goes. But it emphasises exactly what she does find unpleasant; she has been herself for quite a while now, but sometimes she still has her doubts. Especially when the changes in her are so glaringly obvious.

.oOo.

Aang isn’t even slightly surprised when she pulls him aside later that evening. He isn’t sure exactly what is bothering her this time, but if he had to take a guess, he would say that she is fretting over collapsing the progress she has made with Mai and TyLee or has a general feeling of social anxiety. Whatever is on her mind, he can sense it on her and has been sensing it on her for several hours now.

“Sit.” She points at the sofa.

“I can stand and listen to you. You know that right?”

“Sit, Avatar.” She repeats again. Apparently it had not been a suggestion, she pulls him down with her as she takes her own seat. She doesn’t even give him a chance to ask her what is on her mind;  “How much of it do you think is me?”

“What?” He asks.

“How much of this...change do you think is natural and how much is because of…?”

He considers her question, finding it a bit more difficult to answer than he would like. Truth be told, he thinks that it may be a mix of both in a roundabout, ripple effect sort of way. That it is a matter of  thing leading to another. “I thought that we were over this.”

“I thought so too.” She agrees so quietly that he almost doesn’t catch it.

“Azula it’s you. All of this is you. Your emotions. Your own emotions.”

“I know.” She mumbles, downcast eyes fixed upon her palms. “But I just want to know where they come from.”

“They come from you. From you reacting to a strange situation. From you, learning who you really are. This, all of this--the meditation, talking to Mai and Tylee, all of it--isn’t just about working through traumas. It’s about finding who you really are. For real. And I think that you’re doing it.”

“But...how come it doesn’t feel right?”

“Because you’re out of your comfort zone.” He suggests. “So it’s going to feel weird at first.”

“How do you know, Avatar? You’ve never done this before.”

“But Zuko has.”

Azula cringes, “don’t tell me that you’re trying to suggest…”

“Talking to your brother?” He quirks a brow. “I’m not trying, I am. I am suggesting that you talk to him. He would understand better than I do.” He squeezes her hand. “But I can promise you that this is you.” The look on her face is entirely skeptical. He has to laugh, “I can tell that you’re you because you’re still suspicious and demanding. But if you need more proof, go talk to your brother.”

.oOo.

That she is even humoring this idea is unsettling. She sits with her knees drawn up to her chest. Truly she thinks that this is pointless, talking to him is always pointless--a good way to infuriate herself. Zuko sits down and hands her a cup of tea, she supposes that it is as good of an ice breaker as any. Really, she ought to force the Avatar to endure this with her but she can’t rely on the man for everything. Though she has an earful for him at the ready if this doesn’t go well. She sips at her tea.

“What was it like, Zuzu?”

“What was what like?”

She peers into her tea and clears her throat. “Redemption. What was that like for you?”

He grimaces, “painful and humiliating.”

“Wonderful.” She grumbles. “How so?”

“Well first I had this fever...I had so many dreams and they were really bizarre. Uncle said that I did something that was so in conflict of my own self image that I was at war with my own mind and body…”

“That’s horrifying.” She deadpans. Though she supposes that she has already been sick in her own right, has already been through war with her own mind. She isn’t sure that the fight is over. “And then what?”

“And then you showed up and made it all for nothing.”

She folds her arms across her chest and sighs, “never mind, Zuko.” She puts the teacup aside and rises. She begins making more specific tweaks to the dialogue she has planned for Aang.

Zuko gives a sigh of his own, “wait, don’t go.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because there’s more to tell.”

“I know the rest, Zuko. You stayed here in the palace until you got tired of it and then you ran along to join the Avatar, leaving me with father after you decided to tell him that the Avatar was still alive. He took the news very ‘well’, if you wanted to know.”

He cringes again. “We’re just really good at destroying each other, aren’t we?”

“I didn’t come here to talk about that.” She props herself up against the couch.

“Then what did you come to talk about, Azula?”

“I just wanted to know what redemption is like. If it’s even worth it.” She is certain that it isn’t. Not at all. But she has already begun the process and she can’t take herself out of it now. She can either succeed or fail.

“It’s worth it.” He says without hesitation. But that is so easy for him to say. He has always had someone to believe in him. He was always a good person at his core. Unlike him, there isn’t going to be anything left of her by the end of all of this. “Why?”

Azula shrugs.

His expression softens, it seems to light up with understanding. “You’re trying to ask for advice, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying to figure out if...if I’m supposed to lose everything I am in the process.”

“Of course you’re not supposed to lose all of yourself! Just the hateful, angry parts.

But what if anger and hurt are all that she is? “Well then maybe I’m just doing it wrong.”

“There is no right way to do this...”

“Then why do I feel like I’m not actually me anymore?” Spirits, she is making a perfect fool of herself.

“Because you’re overthinking things?” He quirks a brow. “Aang hasn’t touched your spirit energy in a long time. That has nothing to do with it. The only influence Aang has is his personality. He just…” Zuko ponders, “he just makes you think about things in a new way. Something about him just makes you want to be a better version of yourself. Uncle is the same way.”

“Prove it, I need proof that…” she trails off. “That this decision is mine alone.”

“I can tell that you’re not being tampered with because you’ve been a pain in the ass since you came home.”

Azula folds her arms, “I wouldn’t have to be a pain in the ass if I weren’t exposed to unbearable amounts of idiocy each day. Maybe if I didn’t have to listen to you and Aang belch our entire national anthem, I wouldn’t be so agitated.”

He wasn’t supposed to laugh, but he does and quite loudly. “I think that it’s safe to say that you haven’t lost everything that makes you, you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? You’re still snarky and witty and sometimes you say blunt off-color things that no one else dares to say.” He pauses. “Something tells me that Sangyul wouldn’t tolerate that.”

“No.” She agrees, “I suppose that he wouldn’t.” She finds herself, again, a comfortable position on the sofa.

“You’re supposed to change a lot. That’s…”

“The whole point.” Azula finishes for him. She takes a sip of her tea and nods.

“Yeah. Just try not to think about it too much. I know that you don’t like to but, just let things happen on their own.”

“I’ll try.” She mumbles. She supposes that things have been happening on their own lately anyways. “If I need a reminder--that I’m still me--just say something stupid for me.”

“Like what.”

She shrugs, “I don’t know, just talk to me, Zuzu. You always say something dumb eventually.” This conversation is the exception.

[riftimagines]

hello 💓 if you're accepting requests (feel free to ignore), I'd really appreciate it if you wrote something about sett. for a few weeks, his girlfriend avoids him because someone tells her that she is too much trouble for him after finding out she's hiding an eating disorder and self-harm from sett. she believes this person and decides it's realy the best if she just disappears from his life. sett finds out and immediately goes to find her? fluff and soft boi sett? 🥺❤ thank u ❤

I had actually did headcanons for this but it just got too long so I turned it into a  one shot! I hope you don't mind that and you still like this!

Sett x Self-harming!Eating Disorder!Reader

Warnings: Trigger Warning, Attempted Suicide, Self Harm, Minor Character Death, Minor Blood, Minor Swearing.

Catching the eye of the infamous Ionian pit fighting ring boss seemed impossible but lo and behold one trip to the pits with some adventurous friends and now you hardly ever leave his side. Ever loving and charming in his own gruff way. He always made you feel normal and happy even on days where you didn’t feel right. When you felt empty and not enough food could fill it or even the thought of food made you want to throw up and never eat again he was there to make all the badness go away. Everything for once felt decently right and you could just live as best as you could with someone that actually loved you for you. Too bad that didn’t sit well with some of the more envious eyes.

A green monster’s eyes stare into the back of your head with bitterness. Why would their tough, strong, handsome boss care for such a weak, pathetic nobody like you? You weren’t even a fighter for deities sakes! So what made little worthless you so much better then them? They were stronger, better looking, and didn’t have weird eating problems. They just needed you to leave him since Sett seemed so adamant on staying with you. Unfortunately for you the opportunity for them to strike arose rather quickly when Sett turns to you.

“Hey, babe I need to check in with my bookies for the nights payouts, you keep my seat warm alright?” You nod happily and he grins and gives you a quick peck on the cheek before walking off to the bookies office. As you sit there you can’t help but feel a looming presences behind you. Turning around you spot one of Setts underling fighters looking at you. They take your look as an invitation to saunter up to you and glare down at you in Setts seat. You can feel the bubble of anxiety building up in your abdomen as they stare you down. They pick up a fruit from the table next to the seat your in and they lean in close as they bite down on the fruit hard enough that you could feel the juice from it land on your cheek. You cringe at the sight and your are not sure if your want to eat a fruit or throw up at the thought of eating it. They chew for a moment before before speaking to you.

“So your the boss’s new arm candy? Must be for charity or something.” Your brows fur in confusion and you glare up at them. They snort loudly and eat more of the fruit.

“I mean why would such a man like Sett like a little broken thing like you? So feeble, useless really, I heard you can’t even eat right. Here, have a fruit.” They toss one of the same fruits they were eating at you. You catch it and stare at the fruit like its a foreign object. It looked edible but then could you stop eating or would it just make you gag? As you contemplate the fruit your harasser just laughed.

“See, you can’t even decide if you want to do a basic human function. Even babies know what they want. I feel kinda bad for the boss. He has to put up with you and whatever the hell is wrong with you. Such a pain in the ass if you ask me. He probably just stays with you so he looks nice to better people. You know attract the better normal people.” You look down in shame. Sett wouldn’t do that to you, would he? No, he wouldn’t, but then again he didn’t know the broken side of you. The days of eating mindlessly or not eating at all for a couple days or the days where  you did eat but just threw it all up. He didn’t know that you would physically beat yourself up about it. The scars that criss crossed across your arms, a daily reminder of the darkness in your mind. As your mind wondered the underling observed you and realized what you were thinking.

“ Oh, he doesn’t know does he? Now your a lier as well as a broken waste of space. You know, if you really supposedly love him wouldn’t you want him to be happy with someone who’s probably better for him in the long run. I’m sure you know as soon as he finds out about your little eating problem he’ll want you leave you for something better. Might as well save yourself some pain and let him go first don’t you think?” You felt a horrible familiar pain in your heart. It would be better for Sett if you weren’t around being a ball and chain. He could most defiantly do better then you. He deserved someone better then you. The fighters eyes brightened as the seeds of doubt were now planted in your head. It would only be a matter of time before your out of the picture.

“You just think about that, huh? If you can’t be good for him let him have someone who is good for him. Don’t let him suffer your problems. He doesn’t deserve your problems, no one does.” They say that last part with bitterness and a sharp in your face glare then made their leave back to the corner where they came from. So many things running through you head. Sett loves you right? Yeah he does, of course he does and you love him, but he didn’t know about your problems. He didn’t know that you had trouble with eating or how much you hated your self because of it. He doesn’t know that your a dirty lier that hasn’t been honest with him about all your faults. The fighter was right, you needed to leave Sett, he needed someone so much more then you. A perfect, honest, wonderful person for a wonderful, handsome man like him. You were lost in thought for who knows how long until a large shadow overcast you. Sett looks down with you with his lovely sharp toothed grin and dipped down to kiss you.

“Hey babe, I’m back everything’s good to go. You ok there hun? You look a little sad. Did someone hurt you? Just tell me babe I’ll make sure they’ll never hurt you again.” He cracks his knuckles and neck and looks around for any potential culprits.

“No love, I’m just tired its getting late thats all.” You tell him. More lies. Another fault and reason why Sett should be free from you. He looks a bit skeptical but he doesn’t push and instead settles down in his seat next to you and holds you close to him. He was so warm and comforting. So much more then you deserved. Starting tomorrow Sett will be free, no matter how much it would wound your heart.

The following weeks were so incredibly hard. You had been avoiding Sett like a plague and it was waring on your very soul. Every time he wanted to see you you would leave or make an excuse. Any dates he wanted to make you’d say no. He’d be so confused and sad but you’d take off before he could say anything. Everyday now you would cry. Everyday controlling how you ate was more of a task then it had ever been before. The small blade you had to defend your self now became the thing of your self destruction hardly ever leaving your hand and in those hands left a trail of blood and shame in its wake. In the sanguine pools around your limbs your life drained from you. It hurt so bad but good at the same time. The pain of your skin being split open by a sharp blade hurt for a short while but there was also and inexplicable relief in this pain. Though in the end your end will not come. Only a new mark will stay on your tapestry of sorrow that was your skin. This tapestry had become your life recently. The constant waves of agony that washed through you were only soothed this way. You try to convince yourself that Sett could never have loved this. This was all for the best, all for your dear love, Sett. It had to be.

Unknown to you Sett was getting rather fed up with all this running away and avoiding him. He loves you dammit and he knows you love him too! So why the hell were you being so distant lately? He was grumbling to himself and putting everyone in the pit on edge. Bookie and fighter a like knew what happens when you test the Boss when he’s in a bad mood. Nothing good they’ll tell you what. While everyone was generally avoiding Sett while he was irritated one particular fighter saw this as a chance. You were gone, you had to be to put him in this kind of mood. Time to test the waters. They made their way over to the beast man, who paid them no mind in the slightest. They frowned then coughed loud enough for the boss’s ears to twitch. Sett quickly and aggressively rounded on them and growled.

“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m not in the mood right now? Buzz off!” They were taken a little aback by his sheer aggressiveness. Now they knew he’d be a little upset but to be this upset over a broken thing like you was a bit ridiculous. It almost seems that he actually liked you but that couldn’t be it because no one in their right mind could like you. Well if he was going to be rude then they could be rude right back.

“No need to be so rude Boss. Im sorry if your little fling flaked out on you but they were certainly nothing to be upset about losing.” Before they could say anything else Sett moved with such speed they had no time to react. Their head hit the wall so hard the world started to blur and spin. Sett was snarling as he lifted up this dead weight bastard by the throat and slammed his head against the wall again. No one talked about you like that in front of him NO ONE.

“And just what the hell would you know about them?!” They yelped in pain as Sett punched them hard in the gut hard enough for some blood to dribble out of their mouth. A dark grin appeared on their blood stained face making Sett glare and tighten his grip on their throat. Ah, they had truly underestimated how much he didn’t know about you. It was likely Sett wouldn’t let them live but at least they could go out knowing Sett’s love would waver when he hears the truth about you and maybe just maybe you had already left this world and they could rub it in your face in the afterlife.

“More then you apparently. Little flake was broken anyway. It would be so much better for you if you just let the little defect go. I mean a guy like you shouldn’t have to deal with a creature that can’t decide if they want to eat a lot or nothing then just throw it all up or just spit up acid. Then on top of that have to deal with their “accidents” that they give themselves because they can’t handle their own mind. Honestly a waste of life that no one should put up with. You should just let them go. That is if they haven’t left this world already.” Sett blinks as he takes in all that information. You had eating problems? You HURT yourself? You want to avoid him so you could break yourself more because you were afraid of he would leave you? None of that set well with the beast man. You didn’t need to hide that from him. He loved you so much and if you had problems he’d want to be there for you. He NEEDED to be there for you, but first he needed to take out the trash. With a deep growl Sett channeled some of his Vastayan power into his arm and quickly crushed their throat. Blood sputtered out of their mouth for a moment before they fell completely limp. Sett dropped them like a sack of potatoes and turned to face some of the other fighters who silently watched the scene unfold and nodded for them to get rid of the body. Two of them moved quickly to dispose of the corpse and the others stood there in fear of their boss.

“Alright fellas I’m gonna head out for a bit. I’ll be back later with my babe and if anyone has any crap to say to them you’ll end up like that horrible bastard thats being taken out the door, got it?” Everyone in the room collectively agrees and Sett promptly leaves the terrified room behind. He needed to get to you now. If anything that A-hole said was true then you were probably not ok and if you weren’t ok he wasn’t ok. He kept you in mind as he started to run as fast as he could towards your home, hopefully he wasn’t too late.

In your seemingly dark and cold abode you sat on the floor in front of you bed. Sullen, in pain, and defeated there seemed to be no end to this sadness today. The only thoughts that ran through your mind were of your imperfections and your love who needed to be free from the blemishes of your life. You held the blade in your hand precariously. You were so used to the blade grazing the skin as of late that it didn’t bring anymore of that reliving pain. Perhaps you needed to go deeper. Yes, you needed to go deeper the pain was deeper so you just have to push it in closer to the core of your misery. You looked at the thing that had become a part of you arm its sharpness could go in so far it could be so easy for it to just pierce the core of your being. If it did everything would end. All the pain, the doubt, the indecision, gone. Thats what you want. Everything to be gone. You bring your end closer to you and in the process catch the sight of your arms tattered in red lines and blood splatter of today. Sett would be so sad to see that. He never liked to see you in pain, always wanting to fight away all your problems, such a sweetheart. A small smile actually appeared on your face as you recalled the memory of the day Sett told you he’d kick the ever-loving ass out of anyone that would even try hurt you. Such nice thoughts. Hopefully Sett’s next love will appreciate such protectiveness. The sliver of a smile you had fades and the knife in your hand and the wounds on your arms become more real. The pain rolling back into your chest double time after the happy memory. No he didn’t need this. You were a horrible mess that needed to be disposed of and you had the way to be disposed of in your hand. You feel nauseated as your mind races. Everything hurts. Everything hurts please make it stop! You gasp and begin to cry. You didn’t want to die, you wanted to live happily with Sett, but that could never be. You didn’t want to be that much of a burden to him. This is how it has to be. You hesitantly bring the blade up to your chest and start to hyperventilate. No, yes, no, yes, don’t do it you deserve to be happy with someone that loves you and he’s out there waiting for you. Lies, he probably doesn’t even notice your gone just end it and lets be free from all this pain. Your so lost in thought you don’t hear the pounding on the door or the sound of it breaking.

“Babe? Babe?!” The loud, sudden yelling in the room draws you from your thoughts and a blur rushes to you and wrenches the knife from your hand and throws it across the room. Your in shock as two large, warm, strong arms wrap themselves around you and pulls you in to the large man their attached to. You look up and see red fluffy hair and a dark purple fluffy vest collar in your face. Sett, he came for you. Tears bubble up and begin to rain down on Sett’s shoulder. He coos you softly and sits down fully on the floor and pulls you into his lap. His head presses softly against yours and he begins to kiss your tears away. A calloused hand cups the side of your face and makes you look up at him. He looks so concerned and slightly frightened. He was scared of losing you and you almost let your life slip away. So stupid, your so stupid, he really did need someone better.

“No I don’t! The only person I need is you. I was so worried about you. You started avoiding me and I didn’t know why. I was so confused, I didn’t understand what was happening. I still don’t to be completely honest but I want to know. I want to understand so you don’t have to feel like you have to do this. So you don’t have to hide from me and almost leave me.” His voice trembled at the end. You look upon his face and see his eyes shimmering like tears that wanted to fall but didn’t. He missed you so much and it felt so nice to have you in his arms, a little beat up but alive.

“But there’s so much wrong with me. You don’t have to deal with it, you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to deal with me not being able to control my eating habits or this.” You gesture to the scars on your arms and your tear stained face.

“I’m a mess. A horrible mistake upon you and the world.” You were silenced by a deep loving kiss that held you both quiet until neither of you could breathe. The kiss ended with both of you gasping for air but Sett recovered faster and filled the quiet with his voice.

“Don’t be saying that crap. I know you feel bad, but your definitely not those things. I was told the same thing growing up. That I was a horrible mistake and nothing but a pain in the ass for my mama. She didn’t care about that though and whenever I felt bad she’d tell me that as long as one person in the world was happy with you then your life is worth living. I’m that one person. I love you so much and I don’t care if it takes me my whole life to understand or maybe I’ll never understand but the point is, I’m here for you and as long as I’m here for you, you don’t need to feel alone or ashamed. We can take all the time you need babe. I’ll be right here.” Your eyes filled with tears once again not from sadness but with joy. He truly loved you so much and was so patient with you. Perhaps, this can work. It would take a lot of time but maybe you could get better. As long as Sett was by your side it felt like you could just make it through and see some light at the end of your previously dark tunnel. You smile at him happily and cuddle into him. He lets out a small laugh.

“See, it’ll be ok, hun. Now lets get you cleaned up a bit your starting to look tougher then me!” He chuckled and kissed the scars on your arms as he picks you up easily. You can feel a better mood creeping in and jest with him.

“I am tougher then you.” He smiles and starts to kiss at your neck making you giggle and you swat at him playfully.

“Hmm, you might be right there, babe. You might have to protect me every now and then.” You nod and he snuggles into your nape. The light is even brighter now and for the first time in a long time you feel something you haven’t felt in a long time, Hope.

[thebiasrekkers]

Shadow’s Birthright | MYG

Chapter 03: Dark Passions

Plot: Riding in on thunder and lightning, two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared. It can only be worn by one and one alone. The hands of man have separated the brothers, allowing one to live in wealth and comfort inside the palace while the other grows up among commoners. But Fate cannot be destroyed by the hands of man. A shared destiny reunites the brothers; one to become a king who descends into madness and the other will rise as a dragon whose journey has only just begun in order to claim a crown he does not desire to have.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: series | historical!au | fantasy!au | angst | romance | drama | tragedy

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Lee Yoon) x Female OC (Kalina Shuri)

Warnings: Historical setting, caste system, magic/sorcery, graphic violence, disturbing graphic images, religious tones, angst, slow burn, smut

Additional Warnings: Oral (female receiving), heavy teasing, internal possession, body worship

Previous Chapters: Prologue 01 02

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 4,869

Tag List: @luxekook​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @stillcopingxx​, @taevkimchi​, @aroseforyoongi​, @vivpurple7​, @happilystrongthroughthedark​, @sw33tnight​, @nikkitane​, @mini-coop25​

AN: And we have the smuts finally. Woo. I did it early this time, guys. Again, I just want to let everyone know that this series is going to be updated slowly. Like, one chapter a week. So just be patient with me. I promise you that it will be worth the wait. If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to drop me a line!

P.S. Please bear in mind that while the historical accuracy will be mostly correct, I am setting this in a time period in Joseon history where there was no such thing as a king who had a twin brother. Obviously that’s where the fiction/creative freedom is going to come in. Everything else will be period accurate, trust and believe.

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Never love anybody who treats you like you’re ordinary.” - Oscar Wilde

Kali sighed as she watched the moon slowly rise over the mountain peaks. The world was still and quiet, the occasional chirp of the cicada barely audible in the silence that blanketed over everything. Turning her head slightly, she smiled as she watched Yoongi sleep. It took a bit longer than she might have wanted, but with the aid of a sleeping draught, he finally relaxed and allowed her to tuck him into his bedroll. 

San slept faithfully at its master’s feet, his large head lifting when he heard Kali move to stand. The wolf started to get up, but she placed her hand out and shook her head. The wolf yawned and shook its upper body before settling back comfortably on the floor. She bent down to pet the wolf’s head between his ears and smiled when one of his ears flicked at the touch. 

Scooping up her satchel, she reached inside and pulled out several books. Setting them on a nearby shelf, Kali made sure the letter was nestled between the pages of the book on top. After ascertaining that the two of them were sound asleep, Kali pressed herself out of the humble mountain home and stepped out onto the cool night air. 

“I’m sure he will be seeking me out soon,” she murmured, gripping the strap of her satchel in one hand as she lifted her face toward the sky, “the tiger will bare his fangs if I do not answer his summons.”

With a wave of her hand, the space in front of Kali rippled. The trees, grass, and fireflies all blurred and tilted in motion. Finally, a dark hole appeared and she stepped through the portal. Once inside, a swirling galaxy of stars and light appeared around her. The large expanse of the void rippled with each step she took. Many voices careened at her body from every direction, causing her heartbeat to elevate with each second she was inside of that dimension. 

Another portal opened in front of her after walking several meters. Without blinking, Kali passed through the large black opening. When she reappeared, she was back in her own personal quarters in her home just outside of the Crown City. Sighing, she took a quick look over herself in her vanity’s mirror. Her satchel barely touched the ground just as a loud knock echoed from outside. 

Kali had no servants. She had no need for them. Despite a certain royal’s persistence, she refused to have any attendants that could possibly spy on her during her ritual prayers or when she crossed into The Veil. Joseon was still a skeptical nation and its people were quick to yell “heresy”, even without all the information. Being branded a foreign devil, the last thing Kali wanted was anyone being able to prove just how much power simmered beneath her fingertips. 

Adjusting the front of her robes, she retreated from her chambers and out to the main courtyard. Her estate was small in comparison to most noble households, but the King spared no expense when it came to her comfort. Her biggest budget crusher was her personal garden that was full of plants of different varieties to help with her potions. Kali took a moment to survey her plants, despite the heavy persistent knocking rattling the large wooden gate to her estate. She was in no hurry to answer since she already knew who was on the other side.

She managed to clip a few sprigs of tea leaves and some Nightshade before the erratic knocking began to grate on her nerves. Placing the items into the leather pouch that swung from her hip, she approached the gate and slid the large wooden bracer ff the panels. Shoving the wooden gate hard, it swung out loudly and knocked into the person on the other side hard enough for them to fall on their backside. He looked up, perplexed, as she scowled down at him, biting back an irritated snarl. 

“Persistence is only a virtue in some religions, Sir,” she said, her tone even, “patience is a virtue every child of man should learn to embrace.”

The young man scrambled to his feet, dusting off his clothing as he readjusted the hat on his head. “F-Forgive me, Lady Shuri!” He quickly bowed his head, apologies tumbling from his lips, before he reached to his side and pulled out the messenger cylinder hanging from his shoulders. He hurriedly untwisted the cap, pulling out the rolled up piece of paper inside. With his head bowed, he handed it to her. 

Unfurling it slowly, her eyes scanned over the elegant brush strokes that belonged to the Crown Prince. He was asking for, as she knew he would. Wishing for his fortune to be read was simply a ruse. It always was. What he longed for was something that she could happily give to him. As a subject of Joseon, even as a foreigner, it was her duty to give into his desires. It was the one thing she could do to help tampen the madness that was already starting to brew inside of him. 

She couldn’t deny him, even if she wanted to.

Folding the note away, she slipped it into the sleeve of her robe. “I will be there as His Highness wishes,” Kali replied, already moving back into her estate. 

“B-But, My Lady...His Highness, the Crown Prince, said that I should escort you personally.”

She glanced at the messenger over her shoulder, cutting her eyes at him. All he could do was stand frozen in terror before a dark smile spread over her full lips. “His Highness will receive me when I am ready to be received. He knows I have been traveling and need to change.” Kali began closing the gate. “I will see him soon.”

The messenger swallowed the lump in his throat, fearing more for his life than for the lack of her presence accompanying him on the way back to the palace. But if he was smart, he would relay her words exactly as she said them to the Crown Prince. He would know the meaning behind them and he would be patient for her. Otherwise there was no meaning or value to their relationship in the first place.

Pulling the pin from her hair, her dark tresses fell about her neck and shoulders as she entered her manor. It wouldn’t take her long to gather up the herbs and oils needed for a nice soak in the bath. As for her clothing choice, Kali knew she would have to pick something shimmery but tasteful. 

Even if her robes would not be on her person for very long.

It was late and he’d dismissed his servants for the evening. There were the standard guards posted outside of his palace entrance, but other than that, he was completely alone. The Crown Princess requested to see him, for him to spend the night at the Magnolia Pavilion, but Yoon refused. He would see his wife another night. But not tonight. 

Tonight was reserved for one person and one person only. 

Yoon paced inside of his personal chambers for what felt like hours. Every so often, he would reach up to bite his thumbnail both from impatience and aggravation. It would be a lie to say that his anger hadn’t flared when the messenger returned with Kalina’s words. As impertinent as he imagined her tone to be, he knew that what she spoke was the truth. Kalina was not a person of Joseon and, as such, not one of his people. 

She held a certain level of autonomy within the Joseon Royal Court because of her standing with the King. Whispers of him being bewitched by the foreign soothsayer spread throughout the different Noble Factions. But everyone also knew how faithful the King was to the Queen. He had two royal consorts, but the Queen always had his father’s favor above the others. The other two concubines were arranged marriages from two different court factions. Yoon’s own wife was a member of the Western Faction of Nobles.

As it stood, no one in the royal family could marry someone outside of their own country. Not like in the times of their ancestors, when Kings were warriors and legends were carved in stone; immortalizing them forever. Joseon was a strict nation; even more so after the Goryeon Empire crumbled to the ground. But if Yoon could have his way, he would pass an edict that allowed him to marry someone outside of their own nation state.

For his own selfish reasons, of course.

Flopping onto the silk cushion behind his desk, Yoon grunted. He was growing more and more impatient. How long was she planning to make him wait?

Just as he was preparing to mentally chastise her, energy warped in the far corner of his room. The Crown Prince stood, the steady beat of his heart escalating as the color palette in one part of his room began to shift. Saliva collected around the inside of his mouth as Yoon slowly stood from the floor. 

This wasn’t the first time.

This wasn’t the second time.

Kalina rarely came to him in this fashion, but when she did, it never got old.

He could watch her enter through that portal like a timeless dream until he ceased to exist.

The first thing he saw were her sleeves; a deep, rich purple spun from the finest silk and trimmed in silver. Her lithe fingers, modestly decorated with stone rings, reached into the space that occupied his chambers. The rest of her entered his room, her skin like chestnuts freshly plucked as her raven hair danced about her shoulders - just barely hidden beneath the softness of the robes she wore. She was barefoot, her toes peeking out from beneath the hems of her dress; the aroma of rose petals and lavender oils permeating his senses.

Sweat prickled along the back of his neck, her own neck bare save for a single jade pendant that hung from a thin black chain. She dipped her head slightly, looking up at him from beneath a hooded gaze. Kalina’s long lashes accentuated the forest green of her eyes, cheeks slightly tinted a soft pink from either the warmth or a flush at seeing him.

He didn’t care which it was. 

The portal closed behind her with a mere wave of her hand. The magic that existed there almost seemed to vanish, but he could sense the power that circulated through her blood. Her arms swept out to either side of her as she delicately lowered herself to the floor. Everything fluttered around her, the candle flames dancing at her mere presence. Her head was bowed, but he could still see the smile on her face; like she’d succeeded in trapping the greatest game the likes of which man had ever seen. 

Like any warrior, Kalina seemed to hold no such openings for Yoon to exploit. Yet she could pierce through every single one of his defenses. All it took was one simple phrase.

“Kalina Shuri is here, my Crown Prince,” she said, a bell-like lilt in her voice. Kalina lifted her face as he stared pointedly down at her. “...I am here, Lee Yoon.”

The trigger was always his name. His true name. 

No one was allowed to whisper it. Not even his own wife. His parents set that name aside when he was elevated to the rank of Crown Prince. Lee Yoon disappeared from within the palace walls. 

Only this exquisite creature before him, a being who seemingly had not aged since he was a child, dared to call him by name.

Yoon launched himself from the other side of the room, intent on laying his hands over every single inch of her. But just as he was less than a meter away, something stopped him. His body was rigid and no matter how hard he grunted, he was unable to break free. Wide eyes moved to look at Kalina, watching as the woman held her hand out at him - palm facing outward. There was a soft vibration in the air that sang over his skin, causing the hairs on the back of his arm to prickle. Sweat slid down the column of his neck, disappearing beneath his robes.

“Kalina,” he managed to choke out, feeling the veins starting to pop near his temple. Yoon’s eyes narrowed as she slowly rose from her seated position. “Release me at once.”

She was standing at her full height and was still a full head shorter than him. Yet in that body thundered supernatural power that only existed in myths and legends. That same power that was holding him bound in place, unable to take a single step toward her. Instead, she smirked, inching her way forward as the sleeves of her robe slid off just a bit to bare a shoulder to him. 

“Now, now, Seja Cheo-ha,” Kalina said, the bell tone replaced with something deep and velvety, “the night is still young and I have not seen you in weeks.” She leaned forward, pressing her nose into the curve of his jaw. Her scent filled his lungs instantly, breathing her in at the exact moment she breathed him in. “Let me have a look at you, hm?”

This was torture. Yoon should have her flogged, but the way she plucked him like a brand new harp was deliciously unfair.

“Release me now, Kalina,” Yoon half-snarled as he felt the tip of her tongue press against his throat, “you jest far too much.”

Her hand glided over his shoulder, teasing at the baby hairs near the back of his neck. Kalina lifted her face to peer into his eyes and had it not been for her spell, he would have lost his ability to stand completely. The sorceress pouted. “But you’re going to be leaving for a long journey soon, are you not?” He shouldn’t have been surprised, but the expression appeared anyway. “Is that not why you summoned me?”

Yoon frowned. She was going to make him beg. This was outlandish.

“Will you have me beg, woman?” The question showcased his ire, but this only caused her smile to widen.

“A lowly being such as myself would never request such a thing,” Kalina whispered, her hand gesturing over his body.

What spell held him was lifted. Upon his release, he grabbed her and harshly tackled her onto his plush bedroll. The sorceress released a soft giggle, failing to abate his anger. He hadn’t pinned her arms down and she took the initiative to reach up and pull at the small pin that held his hair in place. His white-blonde tresses fell around his shoulders like a soft curtain of wheat and he felt a ripple slip down his spine. 

Her fingers combed through his hair and for a while, neither of them spoke. Only the hushed sounds of their breaths existed between them. He lifted one hand up to press the pads of his fingers against the soft skin around her jaw. He let his thumb dip in between her lips and Yoon released a soft hiss when he felt her bite down around the digit. The loose-fitting robes suddenly felt too tight as his erection threatened to rub itself raw against the silk.

Removing his hand from her face, he slid it between the loose fabric nestled around her legs. He could feel her heat and his brows lofted when he realized how bare her attire actually was. Her flush-kissed cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink and he flashed her a predatory smirk. 

“Were you preparing yourself for me?”

Kalina huffed an impetuous laugh. “Isn’t it a servant’s duty to always know the needs of one’s master?”

He bit back a groan. Her words were like a spider’s web, trapping him further. The harder Yoon struggled, the more he was ensnared. 

Tearing at her clothes like a wild animal, every layer was peeled away to expose her sweat-tinged skin to him. He saw her lifting her hand, reaching out toward where the candles were, but he swiftly snatched at her wrist to stop her. She lifted a brow at him, aptly curious as to his intentions.

“No,” he whispered, bringing her hand up so he could press a soft kiss to the inside of her palm, “leave the light.” He grazed his teeth along the center of her hand, giving it a sharp nip. “I want to have a look at you.”

Leaning forward, he pressed his face along the valley of Kalina’s breasts; soft, pugnacious and full of warmth. He could feel the thrum of her heartbeat against his nose and he trailed his tongue between her breasts, a lascivious hunger threatening to burst from his entire body. Yoon’s hand fondled one mound and he used his other hand to pull at the ribbons keeping his robe cinched to his body. He ached for her. Yearned for her to release him from his demons.

Because only she could and she knew it.

His silk trousers fell easily off his waist and he kicked them from his legs in haste. Reaching behind him, he pulled his dark blue robes off his body and tossed them to the side; abandoned with Kalina’s own robes. He was hard and ready, his hands coated in her juices as he reached down to play with her folds. Decreed by the Heavens to rule, Yoon could only see himself worshiping this witch that lay bare in front of him.

Her fingers curled into the hair at the crown of his head, urging him forward as he pressed kisses along her stomach. He turned to press his teeth into the tender skin of her inner thigh and he smiled when he heard the gasp push from her throat. Inhaling deeply, he relished in her womanly scent before diving into her velvet heat to have his late night snack. 

Yoon swirled his tongue over her clit, the taste of her enough to get him intoxicated. The glistening moisture around her thigh made his mouth water. He wanted to draw as much sound from this woman as he could. He would never tire of this taste; this aroma. She smelled sweet and dangerous. A deadly draught.

She was a poison that he would happily drink, the promise of unparalleled ecstasy at the core of her being.

Her moans permeated the room, lost along the silk folding screens and the sheer curtains as her own sweat soaked into the silk bedroll. She quivered under his touch, his kiss, from everything he was doing to her and more. He pulled back from her folds, his lips shining with the leftovers of her essence and proof of the meal he’d indulged in. Kalina moved to kiss him, but Yoon stopped her with a gentle clasp of his fingers around her throat - bearing the brunt of his weight on his other arm that was braced just on the other side of her head. 

Yoon selfishly licked his lips, cleaning his mouth of every drop of her. He wouldn’t share. Not even with her and it was hers to begin with. He teased her folds with the tip of his erection as he felt her hips rise up to meet his own with a subtle push. His teeth snapped as he hissed, his dark eyes meeting her smoldering greens. He had her where he wanted her. Where he needed her. The level of restraint he was holding back made his arms tremble.

The look on her face, that look, was for no one else. Just him. The way her heart beat in her chest? It was for him. Kalina was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. The way the candlelight flickered across her body, cascading golden rays like the morning sun long her skin, was surreal. It was unfair. Why had the gods done this to him? Created a woman so blindingly beautiful with enough power to make any fearless man’s blood run cold? And he could not have her the way he wanted her; could not possess her the way he desired.

There were feral noises coming from Yoon as he leaned upward. Moving to his knees, he grasped Kalina’s hips and pulled her toward him. Her green eyes danced from the firelight and it nearly stole his breath away. 

“Yoon-ah,” she half-sobbed, causing Yoon’s erection to swell even more. He was going to shatter and be dust in the wind if she said his name that way again. All it would take was one more croon from her voice and he would be ruined.

Ruined as he’d been ruined time and again by the sorceress.

He could stand it no longer! Yoon held her hips in his hands as he lowered his body. “Not yet,” he murmured, his hooded gaze roving over her body, “wait for me, Kalina…” His own form trembled as he settled her over the head of his throbbing erection.

Yoon bit down on the lower swell of his lip, holding her steady as her legs seemed to open up even further for him. He was drunk off her scent, his vision growing hazy for only a split second before righting itself.

Rolling his hips, he couldn’t help the narcissistic smirk that painted over his features as her legs moved to knock into his sides in an almost vain attempt to wrap them around him. Her heat squeezed him in a multitude of ways and the pleasure that he coaxed out of her was intoxicating - her mewls of strained lust urging him onward with each moment he drove into her. The sorceress’ nails dug into his biceps, gliding up the sweat-soaked surface up to his shoulders before grasping onto the meat of the muscle there.

Tiny puffs of air lifted from her swollen lips - lips that he’d teased and pulled at with his fingers. She was getting close and so was Yoon. His tempo accelerated gradually, a low growl pushing from his throat as he watched her rutting her hips against the slickness of his shaft - their pelvic bones crashing into each other with unbridled need.

Her cry of desperation echoed throughout the room, filling the space both around and between them. This spurred him on, reaching the edge of his own need for release as he felt the stinging pain of her nails dragging along his skin. There would be marks but it was of no consequence to him. He would deal with them before he began his journey. There would be questions but no answers would be given. 

Heat spread through, filling her with everything until he was well and truly spent. The young woman beneath him had already succumbed to the pleasure she was given, her orgasm making her limbs grow weak.

Bucking his hips into her one more time, Yoon rode out the rest of his aftermath before slipping out of her with ease.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled Kalina with him so that she could nestle into the crook of his arm. For a while, all they did was share in heavy breathing as they attempted to recover. Yoon didn’t worry about falling asleep and someone finding them in that state in the morning. Kalina always left before the break of dawn, something that he mourned in the darkest corner of his heart. But decorum was standard in the Joseon Royal Court, something even he must adhere to.

He closed his eyes as her fingers traced over his brow, sweeping a few sweat-soaked locks from his cheek and tucking them behind his ear. Taking in another deep breath, he brought her just a bit closer to savor her warmth and scent.

“My poor, sad Prince,” she whispered, causing his eyes to snap open as he peered at her. Her expression looked solemn and Yoon wondered if Kalina was about to go to that far away place he could never reach. “So much pain. So much sorrow.” Her fingers, once again, combed through his hair. “So...unnecessary.”

Kalina’s words were cryptic. They always were. But they held a deeper meaning somehow.

“When you were a child, you were afraid, weren’t you?”

Yoon blinked, his lips parting slightly. “What nonsense do you speak, Kalina?”

Her eyes lingered on his for a handful of seconds before she pulled at his hair, pressing it between her fingers. “Your hair wasn’t always this fair. Once, it was darker than black.” It wasn’t a question. “Stories of unrest in the palace reached your ears. The struggles of your father in his youth before he was placed on the throne.” Her eyes lifted to look into his face. “Stories of bloodshed.”

An angry knot of pain began to form in Yoon’s chest. She didn’t need to finish this story. He knew it better than anyone. Being the oldest prince guaranteed that he was the next to obtain the crown. And while he had younger siblings, they were all princesses or far too young to even begin taking steps toward resting it away from him; his birthright. 

But the fear was still there, gnawing at the back of his mind. His fear led to impulsive decisions. One of them being the ingestion of poisons. Not just one type, but multiple types. All at once. At the age of nine, he nearly died. The physicians were beginning to think that there was no hope.

The Heavens, however, had other plans. They helped him to survive; overcoming his own crazed attempts at ending his life. The result? His hair transformed from jet black to platinum blonde. It happened over the course of one week. There was no explanation for it other than his own body’s form of retaliation to the death that attempted to claim him.

Yoon was officially installed as the Crown Prince the following year.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he felt Kalina’s fingers slowly moving from above his right brow and down below his eye. They stopped just at the halfway mark from his lips and mouth. Something crossed her features, a somber expression, and he could only look upon her with mild wonder.

“This face will be marred someday,” she whispered softly, “but that day will not be tomorrow or the day after.”

Yoon sputtered a small laugh. “Mine will, you say?” He let his hand rest at the curve of her hip. “I’ve trained my body and mind extensively, sorceress. Unless it is you, no one would be able to get close enough to harm me.”

Because she was the only person he ever lowered his defenses for.

“You are a powerful and cunning young tiger, it is true,” came her gentle reply, “but that does not mean that your tail cannot be grabbed.”

His eyes narrowed. He wanted to question her; to demand an answer and determine the reasoning behind her ominous words. It was a warning, clearly. But a warning of what?

Before he could ask, however, Kalina was already pulling herself from his embrace and retrieving her robes. He sat up slowly, grabbing his own robe and draping it over his shoulders. Shuffling to his desk, he retrieved the hairpin and waited for her to finish wrapping herself up. Just as she cinched the wide silk waistband around her midsection, he began to pull up her hair. Her head turned slightly but he used his hand to keep her head facing forward. 

“My Prince?”

“Shh,” he hushed, moving to gather up her thick waves in one hand, “let me do this for you.”

She hummed her assent, waiting for him to finish. It only took a handful of seconds to fully secure her hair in the pearl hairpin. Her hand moved to trace her fingers over the hair ornament and she glanced over her shoulder at him. 

“Is it beautiful?” she asked while smiling up at him.

“It pales in comparison to you, sorceress, but it will have to do.” 

Yoon cupped her chin in his hand, lifting her face up to meet his as he captured her lips in his own. They were dangerously close, but he held himself back. If he pursued any further, he would not let her leave.

He would cage her forever.

He watched her rise gracefully from the floor, the hem of her robes sweeping over the bamboo flooring. Every single curve of her form defied logic and as he watched her opening up the portal to leave, part of Yoon truly did want to capture her; to claim her as his and no one else’s. It was a selfish, hungry and dangerous desire, but it was there all the same. He could not ignore it. 

With a soft gaze, she smiled and dipped her head low. “Your journey will be free of perils and you will obtain success. Have no fear, my Crown Prince.”

And like a dream, she disappeared into the void, dousing the candle flames and leaving Yoon to ponder her words as everything plunged into darkness.

[shesclearlya3]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.5

epilogue

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 1,516

warnings: fluff, cuteness, slightly sad, references of smut/murder, a little cheesy not gonna lie, canon(?)

not entirely proof-read. *title inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

part 1 part 2 part 3

June 2019

"KEEP UP! Don't need any of you getting lost, now!"

You could hear Montana in front of the group of children following her to their hiking trail. There were seventeen kids in this group, all of them packed with water bottles, sunscreen, and some with cellphones as they saw the beautiful valleys of California. They talked and laughed excitedly when someone tripped up, and from having a good time.

Xavier held your hand as you followed them, making sure nobody strayed too far from the path. He was wearing designer sunglasses, smiling at everything and anyone when they asked where he got them.

"I know a guy," he'd say. 

Camp Redwood was currently in its fifth successful year. One of the siblings from the 1970 massacre decided to open it up, tearing down most of the original cabins and replacing them with nicer, updated ones. His family was full of successful architects, and they wanted to make something good come out of all the tragedy.

People were very skeptical when the news broke in 2013 that the camp was undergoing repairs and construction. The ones who were old enough to remember everything became the harshest critics. When the camp finally opened the next Summer, the number of kids barely filled a school bus. 

Yet, the six of you were there, offering your services as counselors.

After the first year, more and more kids came. It seemed that the Camp Redwood curse was finally broken, and now the children had sleepaway camp eight weeks during the Summer. In the offseason, it was open to entire families, and every Halloween, there was a haunted house, much to your amusement.

Most of the kids had come back year after year until they were not allowed to go back once they were sixteen. It was hard, growing attached to a kid who would soon be too old to come back. 

Finally, they demolished the original kitchen, much to Xavier's relief.

He never went into much detail about what went down that night, and you never pushed him. When Bertie made an appearance, he spent time with her. You'd explore, or read the limited selection of books, or rest. The others liked to spend time with you, you found a good relationship with Ray and Chet over the years. Montana stopped her killing ways once the year 2000 rolled around. 

Once you officially joined their group, Xavier came clean.

You weren't really shocked at Montana's behavior, and Xavier didn't pretend he was innocent, neither. He didn't mind capturing intruders who raided the camp, playing the "lost boy" to gather their trust, before giving them to Montana. He was angry and vengeful what had happened to him, to Bertie, and temporarily being cooked up.

When you died, that's when he killed people.

It wasn't something he was ever proud of. Your death only brought another slew of people who wanted to test their luck, taking pictures and defacing the property, like it wasn't where you and the others lived their final moments. He stabbed people, slashed their throats, even strangling ones who were particularly feisty. 

Finally, Ray was able to get to him, once again explaining this wouldn't be what you wanted. You still hadn't appeared to any of them, you were in limbo, and it pissed Xavier off. Honestly, none you had figured out why certain people came back, and others didn't. Plympton and Duke both should be happy their malicious spirits didn't pay them a visit. 

You and Xavier liked to say your relationship was going on thirty-four years, at least to your group. There was no way in hell you'd say that to outsiders, they'd think you two were crazy. 

Xavier liked to touch you, kiss your hair, neck, lips, he was a man of affection. The kids would giggle and tease him if they caught you two, and Xavier would only roll his eyes and pretend it didn't bother him, giving them smart-ass replies. It was safe to say Xavier was the favorite. 

You hadn't realized they stopped walking, bumping into Xavier's arm. He laughed, reaching down to pinch your butt. "Earth to y/n, you alright in there?" 

"I'm fine, just thinking," you sighed, leaning your head against him. The kids had begged Montana to stop, as you reached the highest point of the hills. It was a fantastic sight to you, seeing kids see nature for the first time. 

"It's our favorite time of the year. Cheer up, buttercup," Xavier said, speaking loudly just to spite the children. A small group of them turned, wrinkling their noses and saying "eeeewww," 

"Y/n and Xavier sitting in a tree," one kid, Adam, started to sing.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" the rest chimed in, causing you to throw your head back and laugh. Montana grinned from the front. Xavier pouted.

"Oh yeah? Well, you guys sounded horrible, thank god we don't have a choir." Xavier said, already starting a rivalry, and the day had barely begun. 

"How about we continue, Montana?" you chirped, trying not to cackle. Some of Xavier's favorite kids stuck their tongues at him, before everybody shuffled forward, more giggles in the air as a kid already tripped. 

"You are so rude to these kids," you teased him, linking your hands together again. 

"They can handle it, they love me," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss your head. 

-

One of your favorite spots to be with Xavier was on the docks. You were still too high up to place your feet in the water, though. It was lovely sitting there, basking in the moonlight with the love of your life. He held your intertwined hands in his lap, this time leaning his head against you. His blonde hair tickled your nose.

"Xavier?" you whispered.

"y/n?" he replied.

"Do you remember when we said I love you for the first time, together?"

Xavier laughed, "Babe, I remember that day like it was yesterday. What's going on, you've been inside your head all day." he gently squeezed your hand, sitting up. His blue eyes found yours quickly. 

You smiled at his name for you, placing your other hand on top of your connected ones. "I just think about it a lot. You said it took us dying to finally confess our feelings, how long did you... love me?" you asked shyly. 

You knew it was random, bringing this up over thirty-years after it happened. You were just dying to know.

"It was the night you picked me up from Blake's house, remember him?" he asked. You nodded, knowing you wouldn't forget that piece of shit any time soon. "I remember waking up, scared because I didn't know where I was. I had a horrible trip, I didn't want my life to get that bad, you know?" Xavier coughed, trying to hide his discomfort. You squeezed his hand. 

"... He just promised me all of these good things, all of this money that I could use to finally pay off my bills, get us out of our first shitty apartment-"

You frowned, "Xavier-"

"Shh," he said, giving you a gentle smile, "I just... When you picked me up, crying because you didn't know where I was the entire night, smacking me around because you were hurt so badly." he sniffed. "That's when I understood nobody would love me as much as you do."

You had tears in your eyes as you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'm sorry for uh, smacking you around," you giggled through your tears. 

"I deserved it, y/n!" he said, cupping your cheeks in his hand before pressing a loud, sloppy kiss to your lips. You were taken by surprise, until-

"EWWWWWWW!" 

You broke away from him, turning to see a small group of kids with flashlights, gawking at the two of you. Xavier smirked, waving at them. 

"That's what you get for eavesdropping!" he called after them after they scurried away, their lights bobbing around in the dark. 

"You just love torturing them, don't you?" you laughed. 

"It's the second-best part of my day,"

"And the first?" you asked, leaning closer to him. Your lips brushed together, feeling the heat bubbling between you and between your legs. 

"In the kitchen with Bertie-" he began, laughing at the surprised look on your face. You went to give him a playful smack, but Xavier disappeared. You looked around, hoping none of the kids had seen that.

"Xavier!" you giggled quietly, trying to hide it. 

"y/n," you heard in your ear, causing you to jump and scream loudly.

"DON'T DO THAT!" you said through your laughter, feeling his arms wrap around you from behind. Xavier helped you up, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

"I'll show you the best part of my day," he mumbled, trailing small kisses from the corner of your lips to your jawline. "Let's hope the others don't take a shower any time soon." 

You and Xavier took off towards the showers, laughing the entire way. 

"I love you more than you'll ever wrap your head around, Xavier Plympton,"

----- THAT’S THE END!

Thank you so much to all of you who supported and loved this story as much as I did. I never thought it would get the attention it received, it was heart-wrenching in so many ways, but I needed this story to be told. The next multi-chapter story will be of Foreign Exchange!Michael. If you want to be on that taglist, let me know!  -----

taglist: @thexmancometh​ @the-walking-daryl​ @trichy-knitts​ @shydragonrider​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @lemonwhiskers​  @jetblackpayne​ @langdonsvcrd​ @okoktrinity22​ @uwonman​ @stefanmikaleson1864​ @sevenwonderwitch​ @rubbrninja

[gojosatoruwifey]

Summary: Yugen, a Third Year student from Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. After a year, the three Third Years, including her, finally went home to Japan and while the two are either resting and catching up with their parents. Yugen chose to stay in the College for a while to accompany Shoko Ieri and study under her. So, what's the other reason she came back?

Characters: Itadori Yuuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Kugisaki Nobara, Gojo Satoru, Shoko Ieri, Geto Suguru, Masamichi Yaga ,Zenin Maki, Panda, Inumaki Toge, Okkotsu Yuuta, Yugen Akihisa, Ishida Den, Mizuki Shina, Hakari ,Zenin Mai, Todo Aoi, Utahime Iori

Genre: Supernatural,Fantasy, Slice of Life, Crack, Fluff, Action

Warnings: Curse, Swearing, Grammar Errors, mention of torn limbs

The ringing of the phone indicating that someone is calling echoed on a room until the person on the other side picks up. “Hello, Yugen-san?”

“Good morning, Yamato-san!” Yugen cheerfully greeted.

Right now, they are back to the infirmary; Itadori laid on the bed tiredly, Kugisaki on the swivel chair as she spins around, Fushiguro reading a particular book that caught his interest from the bookshelf near him while Yugen leaned her back to the window, her phone on her ears as her eyes stared outside of the glass.

“What did you do again?”

Yugen gasps exaggeratedly as she offendedly says, “I didn’t do something bad!...well… maybe…”

Yamato sighed. “Should I contact the Principal?”

“Hehe. I think you should.” Yugen carefully agreed. “I used the highway railings two streets away from Jujutsu Tech in the heat of the moment. We were attacked by a Grade 3 Curse and it’s a slime type-”

“‘We’? You’re not alone?”

“Yeah. I’m with the First Years.”

“Yugen-san!” Yamato yelled. “You should not do things that might influence the kids!”

“Are you implying that I am a bad example for the First Years?” Yugen rested her free hand on her chest as if Yamato could see her. “Don’t you know that I don’t cuss, unlike Den? Or get stressed quickly like Shina? I’m a chill person and I don’t utter such obscenity.”

“We both know that you’re the carbon copy of Gojo-san - in behavior.” Yamato rubbed her temples. Oh, the headache she gets whenever a certain troublemaker strikes.

“I don’t. I’m not like Gojo-sensei. I’m a good girl.”

“What is this I’m hearing? Is Yu-chan saying that I’m also a bad example?”

The students turned their heads towards the white-haired Sorcerer entering the room as he placed small boxes on the table which made Kugisaki halt her antics as Itadori got up and peered at the object.

“Hm?” Kugisaki’s brown eyes scrutinized the text of the box as her eyes widened in glee. “It’s a fruit sando!”

“Woah, it really is!” Itadori opened one of the cartons gingerly.

“It’s a souvenir!” Gojo exclaimed. “Leave us a few. I need to talk to this midget here.” he tapped the Third Year’s head and urged her to walk as they left the infirmary, Yugen smiled at the First Years, her fingers smoothly ending the call with Yamato.

“What is it that you want to talk about?” Yugen leaned on the pillar on the side as she crossed her arms and looked at Gojo with a questioning gaze.

“Where are Den and Shina?” asked Gojo.

Yugen blinked confusedly. “On their home.”

“You sure?” Gojo fished out something to reveal a ripped picture of a construction site and obviously from a newspaper. Slowly, Yugen’s indigo eyes slightly widened at the sight of the photo on his hand as her heartbeat drummed nervously.

Internally, she is panicking. Why does he have that picture? Does he know? Did the ‘business’ earlier he was talking about is looking for Den or Shina? I made sure not to make suspicious moves so why does he have that? What should I do? Should I act inno-

“Relax, Yu-chan. Your face is giving away your thoughts.” Yugen exhaled the air she didn’t realize she was holding and glared at the teacher in front of her.

“You’re being nosy, Sensei.”

“And you’re being skeptical, Akihisa.”

Yugen narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

Gojo hummed for a few seconds. “Hmmmm~”

He opened his mouth to say something but got interrupted when Yugen’s phone rang as she took out her phone from her skirt’s pocket and pressed the answer button on the screen.

“Hello?...eh? Five humans since she settled there?.......okay, good. Take care and see you.”

“Was that Den?”

“Yeah. Let’s go back to the topic.” Yugen says as Gojo’s lips quirk up in amusement.

“My, my. Impatient, aren’t we?” he teased.

“Why do you have that picture, Sensei?” she asked.

“First of all, it’s not my fault that someone left this on the Shoko’s desk along with scrolls sprawled on the table.” Gojo started. Yugen felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment as she remembered that she indeed left the ripped picture on the desk. “Second, your voice raised a bit higher than normal when you answered my question about exorcising the Special Grade and lastly...you.”

“What about me?” Yugen tilted her head.

“You’re acting shady!” Gojo blurted out. “You can lie to a stranger but you can’t lie in my face.”

Σ(‘◉⌓◉’) ‘I thought he was going to say something cooler like you can’t lie to someone who knows you.’ (一。一;;）’ but since this is Gojo-sensei we are talking about...I guess this is expected.’

“You really have an expressive face, Yu-chan.”

“I was just asking how did you get your hands to that thing, why did you end up talking like a detective from the movies?” Yugen says, “You are demanding answers since I arrived here.”

Yugen continued. “Your actions are saying that you are suspicious of me since the very beginning because if you’re not, you should have brought the First Years late but you’re early.”

Underneath the blindfold, Gojo furrowed his eyebrows.

“You being punctual means that you know something even though I haven’t said yet the truth why we came back home before the appointed time Principal Yaga thought,” Yugen stated. “Am I right, Gojo-sensei?”

“Not to mention, you eat the trap I baited,” Yugen smirked, seeing Gojo’s mouth agape in surprise. “I invited the First Years for lunch as soon as you left and in the meantime, you used that gap to survey the infirmary. When we got back to the room, I noticed that Megumi’s paper was moved to the side. As far as my memory says, the paper was placed near the lamp and I didn’t use the lamp to pin the paper either. It just means that someone interfered while I was not there.”

“Bingo.” Yugen grinned in victory as Gojo howled in laughter. “I didn’t think that you would pick up the picture. It’s a trap that tells whether someone touched the things without someone supervising.”

“HAHAHAHAHA!! I just can’t outwit you!”

“That picture was in between Megumi and Yuuji’s paper.” Yugen shook her head with a smile on her face. “I just use a simple trap.”

“You know that I’m willing to cover you up, right?” Gojo ruffled her mahogany hair. “You’re like my daughter.”

“I don’t see you as a father figure.” Yugen teased. Her gloved fingers fixing her messy strands. “Ready for a storytelling?”

“When I am not ready?”

One cautious step on the concrete while a juniper colored hair peeked behind the worn-out wall to peek at the two figures discussing what they are gonna do next as the womanly figure childishly threw a tantrum on the larger figure when her companion says something that upsets her.

“Why can’t I go outside?!” says the lass.

Believe it or not, Shina knows that these people are registered Special Grade Curses that her group has been hunting for a year since their Second Year and now they are the Third Year, the chase of these bloodthirst Curses are gonna end today. The female Curse was wearing a torn kimono, showing her smooth blue skin while her violet hair was tied up in a bun with a few strays falling on her forehead. The other one was a large Curse standing on 6’9 with only pants as his clothes and just like the female, he had blue skin and his violet hair was tied in a tight bun.

The plan is simple yet required for them to execute it in accurate precision. It was not the usual set up.

Have Shina sneak into the lion’s den to watch the Curse’s moves and report it, Den to summon weapons using her talismans to surround the vicinity if ever the Curse escaped, and Yugen to activate her Domain Expansion within 0.2 seconds and use it to trigger the Domain Repercussions to exorcise the Curses.

Right, it’s not the complex ploy they set before the day of exorcising.

Yet, the pair already notice her presence and they sharply turn to Shina’s hiding place, chasing her as she skips from side to side of the deformed, old hallway.

‘I followed Yugen’s instruction on how to conceal my existence and lowered my Cursed Energy, how did they know I was here?’ Shina shoveled the collapsed block of cement she passed by halting momentarily to kick the objects as it obscured the visions of the stunned two Curses; their eyes caught dust and foreign particles.

“Shina, can you hear me?!” the voice of Den reverberated around the place.

“The Curses are chasing me!” Shina answered as she felt dizzy from running in twists and turns. Behind her, the growling from one of the Curses can be heard. ‘Where does Den’s voice come from?’

“Which Curse!?”

“Special Grades!”

“Shit!” the navy haired girl cussed loudly. “Yugen is fighting a bunch of Grade 1 insects! She can’t use Domain Expansion!”

“Well, damn it!”

Shina can’t see Den but she swears she heard her laugh.

It made her lips quirk up in a soft smile. She, after all, doesn’t cuss when she is not frustrated-choosing to stay quiet until her stress level reached its limit.

The running is taking a toll on her.

“Where are you?”

A glance to the left as she answered, “Floor C, Emergency Exit.”

“Why are you so far away?!!” Den whined.

“I know I should not-” Shina dodged the Cursed Energy beam from the male Curse shot on her way as she leaped to the stairs. “..ask! But how are you able to communicate with me?”

“I put Talismans earlier on the building!”

“You think I’ll let you off the hook, brat!?” the female Curse exclaimed, her long nails scratching Shina’s back as she hissed in pain-the excruciating tingles making her gaze hazy.

“SHINA!!”

A flash of similar dark uniform slams the female Curse on the wall loudly. Shina felt her breathing hitch as her green eyes caught blood dripping on Den’s head who had her rose-pink eyes glaring at the struggling female Curse; hands gripping the Curse’s neck as she tried to free her limbs from the Talismans.

“Did you injure yourself on your way here?” Shina asked as her hand pulls out a Talisman from Den’s belt bag hanging on her back; sticking one Talisman on the female Curse’s mouth, completely shutting her shoutings.

Swinging the blade multiple times, on the sides, on her front and back. The insect Curses resembled grasshoppers charging at her in full speed as Yugen swiftly sliced them; purple substance on her dark uniform and the filthy stench invaded her nose. Yugen tightly held the hilt of the tanto sword on her right hand as she continued to swing in different directions.

“This is why I hate pests.”  exhaled and fastened up her jumping pace; creating a large distance to the Curses.

“Okay, okay.” Yugen steadied her footing on the ground as she bounced to feel her legs that started to numb from exhaustion. She inhaled and exhaled as Yugen focused the power on her right leg; pivoting her left leg to raise her other shin.

The rumbling noise of a large portion of air gathering in one place blared towards the insect Curses as the force crushed the earth and made the Curses retreat until the air entered their internals; bursting their bodies apart. Yugen blink at the nauseating view. The forest is also affected by the pressure as the land had a large and long dent on it.

“Ah, there’s another group. Geez,” she says as her body flashes mid-air behind the ongoing Curses; the blade of the tanto sword whistling with the wind as she swung it again.

The slapping sound of Talismans sticking to the walls loudly.

Den sprinted towards the female Curse’s torso as she smacks a Talisman different from the others; Shina is behind the male Curse, kicking him in the shins to take his balance off which the Curse quickly recovered as she dashed to the female Curse; She and Den crossed paths; their minds saying the same thing.

Talisman Technique: Synchronization.

Within those seconds, both of the Curses felt something creepier. The sensation of a boiling liquid slowly seeping through their muscles, taking its time to crawl in their body as their senses shout at them of the impending danger. The uncomfortable feeling of it made their mind distracted.

Shina rose her hand mimicking a marionettist manipulating her puppets with strings.

A tug of an invisible force.

“Wow, I just came at the right time.”

Yugen wields the tanto sword to the side as purple blood splatters in the process. Den threw a clean cloth to her. Meanwhile, the two Curses trembled upon hearing Yugen’s voice as she used the cloth to clean the purple liquid on the blade.

“The plan failed, idiot.” Den played the talismans on her hand.

“Sorry! hehe.” Yugen apologized sheepishly, still wiping the blade. “Take it easy! The theatre is starting.”

“So? You can’t move?” Den questioned the two Special Grades with mockery. The Curse pair stood frozen on their spot as they registered that they are not moving anymore.

“My Cursed Technique allows me to control living beings by touching them thrice as my Cursed Energy flows like a fluid,” Shina stated, her right index finger haul up as the male Curse’s arm moves; demonstrating her technique.

“Since Shina can’t touch you, I used my Cursed Technique,” Den said. “You see, my Curse Energy is made to create and they only manifest when I’m using these Talismans-” she waved the Talismans, “-and the papers plastered on the wall had her Cursed Energy on it and since it’s surrounding us-”

“-you Special Grades are going to die.” Yugen finished as she removed the dark glove of her right hand and throw it aside

“What a waste. I was hoping to use weapons to kill you guys to make me practice but you just have to crush that and see Shina.” Den brushed the dust on her skirt.

“Please let my sister go…” the male Curse pleaded as he struggled to move.

Yugen looked at him. “Do you know the story of Hansel & Gretel?”

The Curse didn’t answer.

“Hansel & Gretel are siblings like the two of you.” Yugen closed her eyes. “According to the story I read, there was a great famine struck their country and their family is starting to suffer from starvation, having no choice but to abandon the poor Hansel and Gretel. Their parent left them in the forest and suddenly, a sweet aroma filled their senses and followed the smell. As they reach a house made from different sweets, they met an old woman and she ushered them to enter her abode. The old woman turns out to be a witch! And she wanted to cook Hansel and eat him. However, Gretel is a smart girl and helped her brother to escape from the cage he was stuck and pushed the witch from the pot and she died.”

“W-What happened to Hansel and Gretel?” the female Curse timidly asked.

“Unfortunately…” Yugen opened her eyes to glance at them. “..they died in this life!”

Yugen slit the male Curse’s arms using the tanto sword on her left hand as the female Curse shrieked in fear; squirming on her spot as she thrashed around and called the male Curse in repeat.

“AAACKK!!!” the male Curse shouted in pain and Shina’s eyes widened when her ‘grip’ to the female Curse loosened; hands trembling from holding two Special Grades. For some reason, Shina can’t let the female Curse to sit still as the Curse erupt a high amount of Cursed Energy.

“Shit!” Den brings out a black talisman and sticks it towards the female Curse’s back; upon sensing her presence, the female Curse turns around and grabs her wrist then twists her body and fling Den towards Yugen and they both crash to the wall with a loud slam as the stones crumbled and fall into pieces..

“Nii-san!” the female Curse run to the male Curse and hoist him up but before she can carry the male Curse properly, a long black hand shot from the wall where Yugen and Den crashed into harshly grabbed the male Curse away from the female Curse as she yelped from the unexpected force.

Shina watched a figure stagger to her feet, swaying a little as she steadied her balance.  

“Let me tell you that I hate it when my head gets hit.”

Yugen glared at the female Curse. “It really pissed me off.”

Behind her, the long black hand is still clutching to the male Curse like a child holding her doll. Yugen raised a brow. “Oh? Not fighting back?”

“I already accepted the fact that I will die in our Creator’s hands…” he answered, defeat lacing his voice. “Our purpose is to fulfill our Creator-”

“You think I will let you die on her hands, Nii-san?!” the female Curse bawled as her Cursed Energy pressured Shina and Den to the ground, leaving Yugen standing-albeit not perfectly.

‘Shina can’t tend Den’s wounds…’ Yugen shifts her eyes to Shina and Den laying on the concrete. ‘I have to finish this woman.’ her tanto sword dangling on her gloved hand.

“For now, let’s kill that Curse.” Yugen’s indigo eyes followed another long tentacle-like hand appearing on her left back as its index and thumb passed to the male Curse’s center chest like a ghost going past to a wall as it dug out a small shiny dark orb and placed it onto Yugen’s palm.

The female Curse watched Yugen crush the dark orb in horror as the male Curse on the long black hand faded into specks of dust.

The Curse’s lips quivered as she screamed.

“And that's how the story ends.” Yugen lazily shifts her weight to her other leg. “The female Curse or let’s call her ‘Gretel’ escaped by releasing pressure again and almost made Shina a limp and Den had an amnesia.”

“Woah, what a terrible ending,” Gojo commented.

“It was a good thing that my little friend-” she caresses the left part of her hair as if touching a baby, “-protected the two yet ‘Gretel’ ran away before I got my hands on her. I just can’t let Shina and Den leave there in pain.”

“Spoken like a true older sister.” the white-haired Sorcerer patted her. “You did well.”

Yugen hummed, letting him stroke her hair like a child.

“That picture…” she paused. “..the construction site. That’s where ‘Gretel’ currently lives. Den might have sensed Gretel’s Cursed Energy in that place since she sticks a talisman on the Curse’s back before she flee and she could not get rid of it even if she tried to. Den’s Talisman can seal her but since Den is not near her, she can’t seal that Curse.”

Yugen cupped her chin with her gloved fingers. “Speaking of Den, we don’t know how many meters she should get near to chant the spell and seal Gretel until I exorcise her. Will one-meter good or she have to get closer? I think there’s a certain distance between the User and the Curse if it comes to sealing and not creating..”

“Yugen-senpai!” Itadori cries out as he rushes towards them. “I finally found you!”

“What happened, Yuuji?”

“Ku-Kugisaki is going to murder me!”

From afar, Kugisaki retorted. “I'm just putting your share! Senpai and Sensei are going to eat too!”

“Hah! For all I know, you secretly want an extra!”

“Just eat in peace,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath.

E X T R A :

“Huh?” Yugen looks around the old building. The aftermath of the exorcise had great damage and the residuals of the Curses are everywhere. She glances beside her to see Den surrounded by Medics provided by Jujutsu Tech and she approach the silent woman smoking on the side.

“Shoko-sensei!” the said woman puffs out the smoke and turns in her direction.

“Yugen, you seem fine.”

“Those Curses don’t affect me.” she rests her hands on her hips. “They belong to me, after all.”

“But still, you don’t feel dizzy?” Shoko asked.

“Not anymore.” Yugen let out a sigh. “How’s Den and Shina?”

Shoko dropped the cigarette on the land as she stomps on it. “Den is still light-headed and Shina is feeling weak. They should know that they should not have to use their Cursed Technique too much. Even though you are Grade 1 Sorcerers doesn’t mean that you have to use your skills for your full potential. Yugen, you already know this, right? The three of you are strong but handling two Special Grades especially coming from the unknown is dangerous.”

“I don’t know why the Principal insists that you exorcise these Special Grades.” the Doctor sighed. “He must be teaching you a lesson.”

Yugen only smiled wryly. “I feel responsible so I don’t mind if the higher-ups dump this work to us.”

“Higher-ups? Are they involved?”

“Of course, they are.” she scoffed. “They are expecting me to fail.”

Shoko laughed in amusement, “Cowards, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are.”

Then Shoko held out a familiar dark glove to Yugen as the Third Year’s face brightened up. “You’re looking for this?”

Yugen whispered a small ‘thank you’ and  wore the glove. “I thought it was missing.”

“Did you know that your other classmates made trouble?” Shoko says. “They receive suspension as punishment.”

“Eh??”

“All of the Third Years are suspended except the Three Espada,” she explained. “I’m saying this beforehand. Don’t be surprised if you can’t see a Third Year roaming on the school grounds.  Satoru will likely not explain it.”

Yugen chuckled. “Right.”

Domain Repercussions - A Domain Technique: details will be provided from the following next chapters.

*Yamato - a female Auxiliary Manager

i only posted my work here in tumblr (gojosatoruwifey) and in my ao3 account. please report immediately if someone reposted my works on other sites without my permission.

[doriansapprentice]

Road to Undermount

Ship: Mal Volaris X M, MC Solaris

Words: 1 586

Warning: Racist slure and homophobic mention, fighting, and one curse word.

Disclaimer: All characters belongs to Pixelberry

A/N: Part of @choicesweeklychallenge Prompt "Why are you looking at me like that!? I swear I didn't do anything!" Who will appear in bold. Partly inspired of Road to Eldorado cause I can imagen its something Mal and Mc would do 😉

The archer beamed bubbly as Mal ran a hand in his dark blond hair and wrapped a lock around his thumb. Adventures in all honor, when the wayward group of mages, royalties and acident creature had to search for dark artifacts and fight the shadow court. Tho the young man loved the harmonic and quiet nights like this.

After buying supplies in a rustic middle large village a couple of miles from White Tower, the gang set camp in a hidden valley in a old woods not far from the main road leading almost all the way to Underwood. It were the first woods since they left the capital after going on bumpy and rocky steepe lands. If they wanted to hide properly the experience gang would not make a fire and perhaps even choose a valley further from the main road just to be sure. Mostly they wanted a warm meal after eating lukewarm food and sleeping in drafty inns for days, and wanted to sleep around a fire on soft grass. Tho the gang were a bit wary not making the fire to high. Due to what happen earlier that day...

On their trip to the village three rough guards had mock Tyril calling him knife ear and beeing threatful towards them. The men did not have the royal emblem on their armors, who were a bit worn out but else in good shape. By the hips in old scabbars it were long swords and a arm long dagger. So Tyril and Solar sucpected it were three guards from a bigger city, going around the villages nearby to maintain order, or what seems to be in this case scaring and harassing villagers and drinking ale.

It were only Tyril and Solaris there as Nia and Threp looked to buy new pots and pans, Imtura and Kade for meat and Mal were heavens know where. The rogue had mishviously left the group grinning said he got buiness to do. So the elf and human had walked into a tavern/ Inn to gather usefull informations on the road aheas from the old women incharge. One of the guards wobbling got up from the guards table, waving his knife and grinning his teeth, hissing that he would gladly cut the tip of rough prince ear so he would look normal.

To the guards annoyance the elf did not move a muscle in his face, instead he shoved a elbow in the bend of the mans arm so he dropped the knife. The guard being very drunk had a hard time to to draw his sword, who got stuck in the scabbars, making it easy for Tyril to slide to the side drawing his own sword and hitting the hilt in the back of is head. Rolling his eyes up the guard passed out and it all took a second, so his friends only reacted after he hit the floor. One guard had just stood up when Solaris shot an arrow that stuck in the hard wood one inch from his ear. Laughing dry the archer said the next arrow would cut the tip of His ear of if he did not ran away this instant. Tyril blocked the knife that the third guard throwed with one flick of his sword and glared at the man who feelt over confident and ran at Tyril. Solaris had looked at the knife on instict and that gave the second guard a chance to attack. The guard raised his sword high over his head to attack and it got stuck in the wood cealing. Swiftly Tyril kicked the man in his groin and when his tumble to the floor the elf kicked his knee under the chin making him fall backward bumping his head and lost concious. Solaris did just as good swordfighting the other man and happen to hit the flat side of the sword at the cocky guards hand who dropped the sword howling of pain, and wasting no time the dark blond man headbutted him so he passed out before hitting the wooden floor. It were only a few people in the combinated tavern and inn who looked wide eyed on the fight. Cheering impressive that they succeded to win and moreover did so in under ten minutes.

Hours later the gang meet up after the old women incharge insisted that the man would stay for a drink on the house. Imtura groaned of missing all the action and Kade wide eyed wanting every detail of it, while Nia fussed about them getting some shallow wounds wanting to treat it.

Tyril sat down reading a book near the fire to get more light to read in than the moon and stars. Kade hummed quiently and lazily played on a new song he improvised out of the blue. Nia sat near Tyirl knitting on another scarf, already knitting one for Mal and Solaris. Threep layed on the ground biting and rolling the ball of yarn between his pawn and since it did not disturb Nia's work that much, the gentle priestness let the nesper play. The archer loved that Mal continued to play with his hair as he talked to Imtura about the adventure they both been through competing who were had the wildest ones.

" Maybe you should join my crew landcrab? I would gladly accept the challange to make a pirate out of you." Imtura smirked taking another big swing of her ale burping loudly.

Mal grinned loopsided now running his thumb around the archers sharp cheekbones.

" Why not? What do you say Sol? Wanting to sail the seven seas?"

" We would make a dashing pair. I can imagen." Sol winked tilting his head up and tug Mals hair so their lips meet halfway.

The orch captain rolled her eyes as they snog fiery.

" We might get to work harder to make you a fiery pirate River boy."

Over dramaticaly the dark blond man sat up gasping, ruffling the tousled hair.

" I have you know Captain I am VERY Fiery."

Kade snickered.

" Its true. One time I ate the last chocolate we stole from a rich foreigner, travling through Riverbend. Sol blue eyes burned and he hunted me around the village. It lasted for three days I have you know."

It did not convince the orch who grunt poking a meat club of chicken at Tyril who rolled his eyes wondering what shenanigan the pirate were up to.

" No offence baby cheeks. But prince fancy pants is even more fiery than you and is more likely to grow a pirate beard."

Tyril did not bother that with a answer and had his nose burried in the book.

" Okay enough with the cock measure contest." Solaris glared at Imtura. " And that goes for you to!" The orch just shrugged going thats fair. " We should play a game. I know we knew eachother well. But there is always more to tell and this is our last chance before everybody go their seperate ways. What say you all?"

Mal wrapped his arms around Solaris stroking his thumb on his shoulder and the other ruffled his hair, who the archer doubt would get any messier but alas he were wrong.

" I like that idea. We could do a classic game I have no clue where it orgins. We all tell three stories. One is the truth and two a lie. Then we have to guees. Which one i true. Loser gets to drink."

They all agreed. Mal cleared his throat when three men marched into camp.

" There you are your cheeter! We want our money back your street rat!"

The gang bounched up ready to fight. First beliving it were the three guards, only to see it looked like villagers, arm with axes and knifes.

" Why are you looking at me like that!? I swear I didn't do anything!" Mal said looking at Solaris skeptical face. Not able to smirk smugly.

One of the men throwed some dice on the ground, and Mal made a oh I must have grab their dice as I hurried of.

" Your dice are Loaded!!!"

" What?! You gave me loaded dice?!" Mal theatrical turned to Solaris

" I gave you what??"

The bard played a dramtic tune. Mal winked and Solaris just played along being used to Mals schemes by now.

" You better give them their money back or I will..." The thief pulled out his sword. " En garde!"

The archer on instict stretched his arm to get his bow who hanged round the shoulder and draw his sword.

" I am thief? Take a look in the mirror."

The men jumped around and fought near the fire and up a boulder.

" Ah. You fight like my sister!" The rouge laughed dodge the other rouge sword.

" I fought your sister. Thats a compliment!" Sol grinned loopsided.

" Get them!" One of the men shouted.

" Ops well it were worth a shot. One last fight as a group Kit?"

Beaming of the nickname the dark blond man looked at him mishviously.

" Beside you? Always. But why did you use loaded dice tho?"

Mal brown eyes turned dark as the night sky.

" The men were rude and homophobic to a couple who owed a small inn. So I thought I scam them and give the two men who own the inn the money."

Sweetly Sol gave Mal a kiss on the tip of his nose.

" Okay Mr adventurer. Lets kick their asses."

Also beaming of the new nickname the due jumped down.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Part 2: The Hand That Binds

READ Part 1: Pride or Clan

When he had settled against the mat, gaze still locked with Miho’s, she rose her voice.

“Everyone out.”

There wasn’t a whisper, not single question or objections. The Li filed out under guard, until Victor and Miho were alone.

“I imagine that was far more painful than taking those arrows still sticking out of your chest,” Miho mused, dropping her formality and approaching him slowly. “Humility is not something your clan is known for.”

“Perhaps not,” Victor responded, tracking her advance until she stood directly in front of him. “But I am not my father.”

“No, you’re not,” she smiled, sitting herself down cross-legged. “And for that reason, I am willing to offer my support. The Li stand upon the precipice of destruction, an end – no doubt – Lucien Xu would love to bring about that same future for all who refuse to bow before him, myself included. I like to think that makes us allies.”

“Allies with a broken clan?” he said – not confused, but skeptical with her word choice.

“So, shall I dispatch reinforcements to your capital?” she offered, completely ignoring his question. “No doubt Lucien is already marching there to complete his campaign against you.”

“While I still draw breath it will never be complete,” he declared, his inhale rasping loudly.

“By the look of things, that may not be much longer without medical intervention.”

“I will rest when my people are safe,” he asserted, his glistening brow twitching.

Before he could drive the arrows further into his body, Miho caught his forward listing body.

“Gavin,” she said quietly, and the ninja appeared as if form thin air. “See the good lord to a state room and ensure he lives.”

 Stretching her arms, Miho exhaled a long breath. Within her private quarters, she could be more relaxed, for those who were allowed inside had her closest confidence.

“It went well then,” Jazz smiled, padding on bare feet from the shadows and touching a warm hand to Miho’s left cheek. “Still a little tense though.”

“A little difficult not to with war on our doorstep and the new leader of a rival clan wheezing bloody lungfuls next door.”

“He is next door?” Jazz murmured, brushing her fingertips down Miho’s neck and across her shoulders as she stepped behind the other woman. “I suppose we shall have to be quiet then.”

“That would be polite,” Miho sighed, closing her eyes, allowing herself to be tugged back toward the futon, onto which she sat. “Are we polite?”

“Me?” Jazz chuckled in Miho’s ear, stripping away part of the Fujiwara leader’s robe. “Definitely. You, not so much.”

“And Liana?” Miho prompted, suppressing a shiver as Jazz began to lightly trace the edges of her fingernails against her skin. “Where is she?”

“She returned shortly after you convened in the hall,” Jazz answered. “And now she is no doubt reminding Gavin what he missed while out following your orders,” Jazz answered, beginning the press of her thumbs into Miho’s rigid muscles.

“His greatest fear – being without her,” Miho laughed, wincing as Jazz put pressure on a particularly sore spot.

“Oh, I think his greatest fear is having to share her with you,” Jazz corrected, softening the accuracy of her ‘therapy’ with the gentle touch of her lips.

“Hmm, yes I suppose it might be,” Miho agreed thoughtfully, huffing a loud breath. “You think I should allow them to be together.”

Not a question, a statement.

“I think their bond is genuine,” Jazz replied diplomatically. “And worth nurturing.”

“Fine,” Miho dropped, getting up to wriggle out of the rest of her clothing. “I do not have time for a harem now anyway.”

When she was naked, Jazz stepped up to swathe her in a delicate night-robe, one much the same as she herself wore.

“I am going to need you to work harder, Jazz,” Miho admitted, taking the pale woman’s face between her hands. “The Xu will finish with the Li in short order, then Lucien will set his sight on our mountains. Strong as I am, as my armies are, if we cannot break through his ability to protect his forces against attack, we shall fail – just like Victor.”

Ever so slightly, Jazz nodded, and with a rare, relieved smile Miho kissed her lightly.

“But for now,” Jazz winked, lacing her fingers through Miho’s and giving her a tug back to the futon, “let us forget about Victor and Lucien, and think only of us.”

A suggestion Miho gladly followed.

 ______________________________________________

The morning was bitter with cold, and Miho had risen before the sun. She checked in with Liana and Gavin, who like her, were early to rise for training – despite how strenuous their night-time activities may have been. There were no excuses, no explanations and no fear from them when she interrupted their sparring session, despite the fact Miho had expected Liana to be present with Jazz the evening prior.

They knew if Miho had an issue with their increasingly frequent liaisons, she would have intervened when Gavin first showed an interest. The head of the Fujiwara Clan had a reputation for many things, running her affairs in the face of many societal norms among them.

Still, they were careful to show no measure of impropriety in public spaces.

“Lord Victor,” she prompted, addressing Liana. “I take it he is still alive?”

“Difficult to discern, My Lady,” Liana replied seriously. “The man is so cold; alive, dead, there does not appear to be much of a difference.”

Making little attempt to hide her amusement, Miho gave Liana a light tap on the arm.

“I need you to assist Jazz until further notice,” she said and Liana nodded without hesitation, though Miho was not oblivious to Gavin’s sideways glance. “And I want you to be Lord Victor’s shadow when he is from my sight.”

“You plan to keep him close?” Gavin queried, a little warily, and Miho waved her hand dismissively.

“Everyone must make sacrifices if the clan is to survive the Xu scourge,” she reasoned casually, wriggling her fingers theatrically in the air.

Her face the very picture of carefree.

“My Lady,” a soldier greeted. “Lord Victor is requesting your presence.”

“Duty calls,” Miho sighed, but pointed at Gavin as she stepped away. “I want to be able track the Xu to the last arrow - every hoof in the dirt, every mouthful of rice.”

“Without fail,” Gavin nodded, and had disappeared as if never there.

 After her arrival was announced, Miho entered one of several staterooms used for hosting visiting nobles. Therein she found Victor sitting upright, his otherwise bare chest bound around and cross-ways.

“I am no physician, but you should be resting,” she scolded, despite the crispness of Victor’s demeanour. “You do your clan no favours plunging headlong into an early grave.”

“No, resting in the den of a…” Victor replied, but cut himself off.

Miho’s eyebrows raised.

“Oh, please do continue,” she encouraged, brightly. “It would seem a single night and the best of my medical personnel have worked wonders for your humility.”

Receiving her message, Victor paused to think over a more diplomatic response.

“My apologies,” he conceded, and Miho sat down at the end of his futon.

“Yours is an unenviable position,” she pointed out. “The Xu aside, war has taken its economic toll on your people. Without assistance their suffering will protract until…”

She spread her hands.

“But people are people, Lord Victor,” she went on. “And I would see the misery of your people no more than I would sit idle and endure the misery of mine.”

“And you would allow them to remain, mine?” Victor probed, slowly this time, carefully.

“Well, I’m not sure a hungry child cares who claims sovereignty over her, but if you’re asking whether I intend to pounce on the opportunity to steal your lands? No,” Miho assured him. “The Fujiwara and Li may not be allied, but we’re not enemies, nor do I or my people require expansion. Lucien, on the other hand, is a malice I have no tolerance for.”

Victor took some time to search her face in the wake of this declaration, hunting for duplicity. The world was cutthroat, and clan leaders carried the weight of so many lives it was uncommon for them to not take advantage of any and all chances to increase their influence.

“You look a little confused,” Miho snickered. “Is humanity really so foreign a concept to you?”

“Foreign, no,” he answered. “It was simply not the way I was raised. Were our roles reversed, I cannot say I would be so magnanimous.”

“Will you look at that,” Miho laughed. “A compliment. Have you perhaps developed a fever?”

“You may take it that way if you wish,” he nodded, adjusting the way he sat with a small grimace. “However, it was intended to express puzzlement.”

“Well, you don’t need to truly understand my motivations to benefit from them,” she assured.

“Perhaps not,” he acknowledged. “But I cannot believe your actions will come without cost. If I am not mistaken, Lucien offered you peace.”

“Some skewed version of it,” she confirmed. “Buuuuut, he won’t be able to bind my clan or me in that fashion now.”

“Through marriage, you mean?” Victor sought in clarification, and Miho nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have great affection for my concubines,” she admitted, “I may even love one or two, but for the leader of a clan and for its future, marriage must be an exclusive proposition.”

“I had heard nothing of you taking a husband,” Victor frowned slightly, while Miho’s smile turned into a confident grin.

“Because I have not,” she declared, then narrowed her eyes on him pointedly. “But I will be.”

______________________________________________

Don’t forget folks, comments and commenty reblogs keep a girl writing! I’m also open to, you know, expanding Miho’s collection of concubines for any who have OCs who would like cameos -grins-

[shardclan]

“The penny-pinching curs would let us perish if it got them another coin!”

“They’re going to need some kind of recompense unless you want them breathing down Her Majesty’s neck until this time next cycle. You have to give them something.”

The subject of the Merchant’s Guild was hot enough that even Stellaria’s persistent thralldom was pushed from the forefront of her mind. However, she was much harsher and significantly less cool-headed than usual, perhaps owing to some sort of astral-related separation anxiety.

“I will give them nothing. Let them breathe where they wish, it’s Rebis’ job to uphold what is best.”

Caress curled her violet lips. Thralldom or no, Stellaria’s coarseness was testing her patience. “And it is your job, as literal Tribune of Shade-Damned Commerce, to promote positive standing with foreign merchants and keep our economy afloat.”

Rebis tapped her focus on the marble top for silence. “I appreciate you two returning to this topic so doggedly—” Polite words, they were stubborn as horn-locked melprins. “—But reparations must first go to livelihoods in Noon Point and to the restoration of the clan’s welfare system.”

Caress and Stellaria both shifted forward in their seats, Caress with far more effect as Stellaria was still bound to her chair.

“Without the support of the merchants there will be little chance of repairing the economic damage we’ve sustained.”

“Oh now you’re for supporting them?”

“I always supported them!” Stellaria snapped. “But I don’t think it should involve compensation!”

Caress punctuated her words with heavy slams of her pebbled fists. “They. Are. Merchants! What kind of support do you expect they’re going to want after two and half eons of lost business?!”

“Ladies,” Rebis said softly but meaningfully. “Recall that I was tutored under Saber and that I cut my teeth on merchant discussions when the guild tried to cook Telos for closing Thunder’s March due to the Outsider incident that preceded my hatching. I am prioritizing Aphaster City merchants, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave the Guild to hang.”

“Now. I value both of your opinions, but this isn’t a discussion that can be had fruitfully without the attendance of a representative of Trader’s Walk on site. So, for the 3rd time in as many days, shelve that discussion until we can have it fruitfully.”

The two women sat back in their seats with muffled huffs.

A gentle cough interrupted the discussion from the entry. Half the table rose, a bit stiffly and wearily, to its feet to greet Hart.

In his typical fashion, he nodded to them all and waved them back into their seats. Inside the half-circle, he regarded Rebis for the first time since her return. She looked good. Calmer and a bit harder. Truly and adult, and no longer his charge.

“You look well, my Queen.” He raised a carved chest with the emblem of Lightweaver emblazoned in gold on its center. “I’ve come to deliver your ceremonial garb. The clan has missed enough celebrations. So long as you are back, I thought you might not want to let Brightshine slip by.”

Rebis raised smiled. With Samhradh enthralled and lightborn dragons at too much risk, it fell to an Arcanite to praise the Light. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.  “You thought right, that would never do. Shall we all take a break?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The robes felt made for her. Like a gift granted to her for achieving the status of Archmage. When this was all over, she would have new clothes tailored to incorporate it as a part of her royal garb.

“At penalty of re-opening the issue,” said Flaga, as Rebis settled back into her chair. “May I request that any external reparations the clan is able to provide at all be provided to the Beastclans?”

Rebis rubs at her celestine jewelry. The centaurs have had to work by night in order to be safe in the Summerlands, and they have not been able to utilize the area near House Perihelion at all. Unless they could turn things around quickly and recover the spring-planted crops allowed to go wild it would mean another famine year come winter. The previous one had already strained their relationship to tatters, it would never survive another winter like that.

“I believe that would be a wise course of action, in addition to physical labor assistance in the farming sector.”

Stellaria said nothing, but Caress did not look particularly impressed. “If we’re discussing agreements, what about the alcohol trade from Gethsemene which was halted due to inability to use the Sundew Falls as a port area with the astral having overtaken House Perihelion?”

“You’ll forgive me my skepticism, but have a single one of your districts’ clients has gone thirsty during this problem?”

Caress smiled and crossed her massive legs. “Of course not. But that is just the trouble. With Noon Point closed, merchants that didn’t funnel over to Feldspar have been watching the situation from Bramble Step. It is an entertainment district, not designed to hold thousands of squatters on a long-term basis. While they have paid well to drink my good wine, a low stock of rare drink is not an easy stock to replace.”

Saber coughed and leaned earnestly forward. “How could a woman with your funds and influence want for anything, especially given proximity to the Tangled Wood?

Saber’s well-known mild temperament spared him her more aggressive one. She knew without thought that he wasn’t trying to accuse or challenge her and answered him just as politely as he’d asked. “Darling, you’ve been dealing with practical and straightforward money concerns on Horizon’s Landing too long. No one buys alcohol like five hundred merchant caravans trading information in the absence of ability to set up shop and go about normal business. They have been ‘investing’ quite heavily in one another and in my richer patrons and that means my most wastelessly exotic alcohols are in the red.”

“Surely some of the merchants squatting there must have what you’re begging for,” Stellaria grumbled.

Caress took a deep breath. “Stellaria, my dear, your brain has been addled by Titi you thinks those merchants aren’t trying to charge me the highest mark-up they think they can get away with without insulting me.”

“Settle down,” Rebis said absently. She nodded to Azricai, who had been busily scribing the minutes of their days-long Tribunal due to Samhradh’s sulkiness. “I’m sure Gethsemene will have a mouthful to say about being off-shored since Wavecrest with a full cargo and an unpaid crew. Make a note—“

Rubranova yanked Rebis’ chair back and Nayvadius leaped forward, sword out and shield raised to deflect a strike.

Above him, the Umbra Wolf grinned in her feverish way. “Nice to see you’re in good health!”

“Same fi you,” said Nayvadius with his own grin, pushing her back. “Nah hard feeling, yuh? Me bed ah empty space fi fit you still.”

She swung her sickle casually at the far edge of the hall and flicked her tongue. “I mean if you’re inviting me, what’s the point if there’s no hard feelings~?”

“Stop flirting!”

The words didn’t come from Rebis. She was well past trying to force those two to be court-appropriate.

It came from Titi, who stormed in with Pistis and Phi.

Caress made a strangled noise and covered her mouth. “Oh my darling--!” She bolted from her seat. Pistis stepped deftly in the way of Titi-tet, seemingly unaware that Caress was running toward her.

She cupped Pistis’ thin face. “Dear heart you’re a mess! That brat has done you no good.”

Pistis gave a wan smile. “You’re being so dramatic, Caress. You sound like Generous. I’ve been fine and Titi has been a delight. I wish you had come to see me, you would love her.”

“I don’t want her!” Titi hissed, shoving Pistis and trying to no avail at all to shove Caress.

Even in her glamour, Caress was not a shovable woman, and looked down her nose at the shameless but pitiful attempt. She could crush Titi beneath her heel, but that wasn’t the plan.

“Move along you little terror or I will have Carnelian beat you with your own antlers.”

Half incensed, half terrified, Titi skittered away toward Rebis muttering something quite impolite about shadow dragons. “What are you doing here?”

“Running my clan,” Rebis said, laying a staying hand on Rubranova and re-settling into her chair. “Is there something you need?”

Titi squinted. Her mouth hung slightly agape at the strange calm in the room. She barely remembered Rebis, but this was not what she recalled. The person in her memories had been rightly crying in the dirt.

“I killed you,” she sputtered.

“You tried, yes.”

Bestealcian guffawed loudly. Titi shot her a dirty look and snorted in Rebis’ direction. “You can’t just come back. You lost! You’re supposed to stay dead!”

Rebis scooted back up to the table, glanced at the next order of business, and scrunched her nose. House Xanna was interested in receiving a report on the astral. ‘Report’ for them meant sending dragons who were involved to have their memories added to the Library. She’d have told them to eat dirt on principle, but they were offering payment. Very attractive payment, in fact.

“We’re in the middle of a Tribunal meeting,” she said, pre-occupied with just what that exchange might look like. “If you want an audience, it will have to wait. What was it I was saying before…? Ah yes, Azricai make a note to arrange a meeting including Caress, Gethsemene, myself, and the managers of all the primary liquor distributors in the territory.”

“As you say, your Majesty.”

“Stop it.” Titi snarled, her body going bright with a gathering light. “Stop Ignoring Me.”

It was high noon. As predicted, Titi had come at the height of her power.

She emitted a wave of light that was almost liquid. Stellaria and Samhradh wrestled with their bonds, suddenly agitated and nearing hysterical. The Tribunes looked away, but as the light waves washed over them they struggled against a rising compunction to look Titi’s way. To know her. To worship her. To play with her.

At the far end of the table, Rebis spoke: “Envision.”

She didn’t need the words any more than she needed her focus, but she wielded both. The pink ring around her eyes was consumed by the light of her vast magical power, and the high ceiling of the Hall filled with gilded shapes. Every eye was drawn up—away from Titi and to the shape that Rebis was weaving into reality above them. The form of it was near-impossible to make out, obscured in brighter and brighter light the longer Rebis focused.

The wings of a locust wrought in gold opened and Titi cries out in horror.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT, YOU CAN’T—“

The envisioning of Lightweaver uttered a sharp and silencing howl. It did not speak. It was not truly her, but it was every bit as powerful as Rebis believed Her to be. Rebis’ capacity was greater than even Lutia’s, and her power was young and vital and near-infinite with the rising of Light and the recent blessing of the true Lightweaver. At that particular moment in time, during that particular alignment of events, that belief was not misplaced.

The light drew in, focusing on the astral with searing intensity.

Titi-tet was from a plane much closer to the gods—the astrals could perhaps even become as gods given enough millennia. But Titi had not had millennia. It has had a mere 2 cycles in Sornieth’s time since the Seat was moved and the Stones had gone to seed. There was not enough Light in her entire being to out-shine the envisioning, even though it was a mere copy. As the light grew sharper and brighter she was forced to look away and her body began to burn under the radiance.

Phi stepped in the way of the light to shield her, and Titi fled into a ray of noon sun filtering from the ceiling windows.

Caress stomped down a heavy heel. “Assombrissais.”

The panes of light magic that made the windows dulled and went black, revealing Titi’s fluttering shape as they shut the sunlight out.

Titi roared with aggravation. The shadow magic was infuriatingly simple. It had to be—Caress did not have any particular magical aptitude. But she was very well versed at making it exactly as dark as she liked with only a few carefully placed runes and a whispered word.

It was why Rebis had called her.

“Kill her, KILL HER!”

Saber moved from his chair to Phi with the lithe speed of an expertly cracked whip and pinned him to the floor. Pistis glanced nervously at Caress, who pushed her gently back to protect her from Bestealcian’s wildly swung sickle.

A wildclaw’s foot clamped over the coatl’s face, dragging her back and tossing her against the far wall. The Smoke Gyre splayed his wings wide and tilted his head at his student. “Sloppy, Umbra Wolf. I hope you’re prepared to be disciplined when this is all over.”

Beastealcian’s crest rattled, revealing her where she slithered along the stone arches. “I mean I have a date already but if you threaten me with a good time like that…”

A sizzling arcane bolt bigger than she was and quick as a shooting start collided with her and she fell like pigeon downed by an expert arrow.  

Arcanus stood before the entry pillars, his glamour shed and his vast wings blotting out the light. A snort released a small gust of ozone-scented magic, and a shield raised behind him.

Unless she wanted to try bulldozing through him and the wall of his magic, Titi was trapped.

Rebis climbed light-footedly onto the surface of the table and stepped just as lightly down on the other side with Rubranova’s hand to steady her. The apparition of the Lightweaver made of her thesis spell dissipated into strands of light that encircled Titi and hauled her to the floor.

Gold tears fell from the astral’s faceted eyes like honey from a hive, but any sympathy was held at bay by the otherworldly snarl twisting her muzzle. That was not a face a dragon could make. The creature beneath was beginning to show.

“I have been told that you can stay here,” Rebis said slowly. “If you relinquish your power.”

“Why would I stay here?” Titi sniveled. “You hate me! You’ve been awful to me and I didn’t even do anything! I wanna go home!”

“You will. But even though I brought you into this world, you still have to stay and pay for your crimes.”

“Wh-what?”

Rebis held a hand out to Azricai, and received the scrolls. One was Lutia’s coveted spellscroll, which radiated enough Arcane magic to make the astral squirm and wretch on the floor. Rebis, safe beneath her white celestine crown, felt nothing. “Titi-tet the 15th, Astral of the Light on High, I sever you from the noon sun and bind you to Sornieth.”

The name of the astral glowed white-hot on the scroll, and in Rebis’ other hand, an unfamiliar breed change scroll opened.

“You can’t,” she hissed, and her voice was no longer that of a hatchling. “You cannot hope to bind me to paltry dragonhood!”

“Yes, that only seems to work for the astrals who let go of their power willingly. So we decided to go with something different.”

Rebis tossed the scroll.

Titi screamed as it coile around her. She was not truly a creature of flesh, so there was no true becoming. The pain came from being given true form, one that had to come into being rather than being altered to the magic of the scroll.

Soon the task was done and silence took over the hall.

Pistis made a sickly sound and Caress held her as she wept. Phi groaned. Stellaria struggled against her bonds with fresh fervor, and Ashes rushed to free her. Though they had grown apart since he laid down Willow’s memento, she flung herself into his arms and clutched him with feeble desperation he had never seen from her before.

Titi, weak and mortal and changed to a breed that had no connection to the Light, weakly craned her head up.

“What did…you do to me…?”

“I gave you the shape of Icewarden’s firstborn. Proto-tundras, I am to understand. What more apt prison for an extraplanar being could there be than the body of a gaoler?”

“Why…? Why not just…send me…back?”

“Because you nearly killed the queen, stole the livelihood of an entire region, and broke most if not all of our magic-related laws,” Azricai said matter-of-factually. “You have crimes to answer for.”

“...That..that’s all...?”

“It is,” Rebis said, dispelling her magic and moving to untie Samhradh, who was frothing with the need to get the story written down. “It’s simple, we know. But this is the Analemma Dominions, once Aphaster as ruled by Telos the Indomitable, who raised it from the ashes the children of Clan Shard.”

“And in this clan, even the gods will be made to abide by the law.”

[emjenenla]

Then let's try our very best to fake it [A Throne of Glass Fanfic]

The first night they had spent together after the defeat of Erawan all they had done was collapse onto Dorian’s narrow cot in the tiny room his was sharing with Fenrys, clutch at each other and sob. Or Dorian and Manon post Kingdom of Ash.

Dorian jerked awake in the darkness of his newly rebuilt tower, gasping for breath. The screams of his own guards echoed through his head along with the suffocating coldness of the Valg prince’s influence. He patted at his neck feeling the smooth skin there in an attempt to reassure himself that the collar was gone. He was safe. He had nothing to fear. His mind was his own.

Manon lay in the bed next to him her moon-colored hair spread out across the pillows. Slowly, Dorian eased himself back down onto the bed, eyes never leaving her. He walked his hand across the space between them and ran his fingertips across hers. He felt the places where her iron claws would snap out to cover her regular nails and thought about how easily they could slice through his flesh and end his life. She could kill you. He reminded himself. It was the mantra he repeated every time he’d woken in a panic next to her. If you were possessed she could kill you before you hurt anyone. It’s safe. You can relax.

Manon’s eyes opened, the luminous gold shining in the darkness. They just stared at each other for several stretching seconds.

“I’m okay,” Dorian said after a minute answering the question he knew she was thinking.

Manon raised an eyebrow skeptically. She knew he wasn’t alright just as clearly as he knew she wasn't alright. The first night they had spent together after the defeat of Erawan all they had done was collapse onto Dorian’s narrow cot in the tiny room his was sharing with Fenrys, clutch at each other and sob. They had eventually cried themselves to sleep and woken in the morning with aching heads and Fenrys still conspicuously missing. They hadn’t talked about it but then again they hadn’t really needed to, they were both able to fathom the depths of the other’s pain without needing to use words.

Manon didn’t push Dorian for more details, she knew that he would talk if he wanted to; it was a courtesy he also granted to her. Eventually, however, she reached out with the hand that wasn’t touching his and brushed his hair back into place. The gesture was a little awkward and hesitant—Manon was still getting the hang of gestures of affection—but still comforting. “You should go back to sleep,” she said. “I’ll watch over you.”

Dorian knew she didn’t mean she’d kill him if he showed any signs of being possessed again, in fact he was pretty sure she didn’t even know about that, but it was still comforting. He curled deeper into the blankets and tried to catch a little more sleep.

~~~~

Getting back into the palace at Rifthold turned out to be the easiest part of retaking his throne. The Valg were all dead or comatose and the witches had left to fight in Terrasen, so they basically walked right in. The trouble was reinstating control over the panicking population. Dorian, Chaol and Yrene had the khaganate armies with them which allowed them to establish order but that was only a temporary fix. Dorian immediately began reforming Adarlan’s army. The people couldn’t be allowed to view the khaganate’s presence as a foreign occupation and Adarlan needed to be able to defend itself again before the other countries rebuilt enough to wonder if they should be allowed to.

With Manon flying back to the Wastes with her people and Chaol and Yrene occupied with their coming child, Dorian was remarkably alone for those first few weeks. All the advisors he’d appointed after his father’s death had either fled or been killed by the witches and the court had never reformed after the destruction of the glass palace. Dorian was king of an empty, echoing palace with far too many ghosts and empty rooms.

Still he tried to make the best of it. He could not begrudge Manon her queendom or Chaol and Yrene their happiness. He hadn’t even expected to live to see the end of the war; that should have been enough of him.

So he worked and tried to rebuild his kingdom. He appointed new advisors, he appointed a new Captain of the Guard, he encouraged the sycophants who had made up the court for all his life to return. He was a good king. The only thing he did which raised eyebrows was order that his tower be rebuilt as quickly as possible and sleep in a guest room until it was. He hadn’t been able to set foot in his father’s chambers after his coronation and the fact that the man had saved his life from the Lock did nothing to change that.

He worked hard and fell exhausted into bed every night only to wake a few hours later panting with panic and wondering if his mind was his own. Sometimes he could get to sleep again sometimes he wouldn’t but he always got up the next morning and continued on like nothing had happened. It was nothing new. He’d been having nightmares since Aelin had freed him from Valg control. At first he’d screamed so loud that the guards had come running thinking he was being assassinated but eventually he’d learned to panic silently and he was pretty sure he had most people fooled.

Two days before the night he woke panting next to Manon, he had returned to his newly refurbished tower to find her sitting on his bed, grinning at him. For a few minutes all he did was stare at her.

“What’s the matter, princeling?” She asked.

“You’re here,” He said. Then cursed himself for not coming up with something more eloquent to say.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come to visit?” She asked. Her smile didn’t falter but her eyes looked a little hurt.

“I’d hoped you would,” Dorian said. A year before he might have managed to make that sound confident or flirty, now he just sounded like he was going to cry from shear relief. “I’m glad you did.”

~~~~

“I’m going to write my mother and tell her that it’s safe for her and Hollin to return to Rifthold,” Dorian announced breakfast the morning after he’d woken Manon while panicking.

“You don’t have to associate with them if you don’t want to,” Manon said. “You’re the king.” She popped another sausage into her mouth and chewed loudly. In the time Dorian had spent traveling with the Thirteen and Manon he’d seen them eat food both raw and cooked and never had been able to tell which they preferred. She was, however, eating with her hands which Dorian suspected was meant to annoy Chaol who was sitting across the table with his mouth puckered in displeasure.

Chaol has not actually pulled Dorian aside for the “I think we need to talk about your choice of lovers” talk that Dorian knew his best friend was dying to have. Chaol had wisely let it go when there was a war going on, but now there was nothing to stop him, especially now that he knew Manon intended to keep visiting. Dorian was dreading that conversation because he didn’t know how to explain to his best friend what was going on between him and Manon.

“I know I don’t have to,” Dorian said. “But my mother deserves better than to be locked up in the mountains and Hollin is my heir. It’s in my best interest if he doesn’t have reason to hate me.” He didn’t mention that Hollin was likely to be the only heir he’d ever have. After all, he couldn’t see himself ever marrying another woman even if it was just for an heir and any child of his and Manon’s would be an immortal witch and therefore heir to her mother’s throne.

He pushed the thought of a child with Manon away before it completely formed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of being a parent when he barely managed to hold himself together half the time, and he had no idea how Manon felt about such things. Not to mention, witchlings were even rarer than Fae children were; the chances that he and Manon would be able to conceive together even if they tried were not good. It was not even worth considering.

Even if he also wasn’t convinced he didn’t want to have a baby with Manon.

Chaol ripped his eyes away from Manon. “That makes sense,” he said. “You should do that.”

I don’t need your permission. Dorian thought, then quickly crushed the thought. Chaol did not deserve his frustration. He did not have to come back here with him when he would have been perfectly welcome either in Terrasen or Antica. Dorian should be happy with that. He couldn’t ruin it.

~~~~

Dorian’s mother and brother had spent the war in a castle in the mountains. Dorian’s father had sent them there before his death and Dorian had never invited them back.

All in all, that mountain keep was probably the safest place in Adarlan, which was different from saying that the war had not touched them. Rifthold’s fall had cut off supply lines and Erawan had sent a small battalion of soldiers and a few witches to blockade the keep. None of Morath’s forces had ever tried all that hard to invade that keep which begged the question of what exactly Erawan had been doing. Dorian would have put money on the whole point being to keep tabs on Hollin until Dorian himself could be confirmed dead and Erawan could put Hollin on the throne of Adarlan with a Valg collar around his neck.

No matter what the plan had been, Georgina and Hollin Havilliard had had a much tamer run of the war than Dorian had, but they still had experienced it at least in part. The keep had begun to run out of food in the last months of the war and had gone into pretty heavy rationing. Dorian only knew this from the reports sent by the lord of the keep; his mother’s letters were nothing but endless prattling about how much she was looking forward to returning to Rifthold. He hadn’t heard anything from Hollin, but that was not exactly unsurprising.

Georgina and Hollin arrived as the sun was setting one morning early in the spring once the snow had melted enough to travel. Dorian, Chaol and Yrene met them on the front steps of the palace. Manon was back in the Wastes, something Dorian was more than a little thankful for; he was not ready to introduce his Irontooth witch lover to his mother yet.

As long as Dorian had been alive, his mother had remained basically unchanged. Her clothes changed with the fashions, but she never seemed to age. Her skin had remained smooth and perfect and her auburn hair remained vibrant as ever. When he’d been a child, Dorian had sometimes wondered if she was secretly Fae and that was how she remained youthful.

Nothing could have prepared him for his mother with lines on her face and gray in her hair. She’d lost weight and the traveling gown she was wearing hung strangely on her. She looked tired and old. Six months in an out-of-the-way keep had aged her more than twenty years in the glass palace of Rifthold had. He barely recognized her.

He could tell from the way her faltered when she saw him, that she barely recognized him either. He supposed that was unsurprising. In the recent months he’d had most of his wardrobe remade. The fashionable things he’d once worn now seemed frivolous, and he’d put on enough muscle since being freed from Valg possession that most of the clothes that had been designed to hug his soft, unhoned prince’s body didn’t fit him anymore. He still favored the same blue color scheme as he had for most of his life, but the style of his clothes was now decidedly military. Not to mention that there was the pale band of skin from the Valg collar which he couldn’t decide whether to hide or to display proudly like a battlescar.

Dorian gave his mother a smile, trying to set her at ease. “Hello, Mother,” he said. “How was your trip?” He consciously tried to sound like his old self. Nesryn had told him that his intonation had changed slightly since he’d been freed. Not much, but it was noticeable. “You sound like you’ve constantly got something really heavy and all-consuming on your mind,” she’d told him. He assumed Chaol and Aelin had noticed as well and just decided not to mention it.

Georgina tried to give him the same sunny smile she’d used hundreds of times a day in court, but it came out a little cracked and tired. “It’s good to see you,” she said. Even her voice sounded older. “The trip was fine, thank you very much.”

They hugged then, but a little awkwardly. Neither of them had much practice in physical affection with the other. When they pulled apart, Dorian motioned Chaol and Yrene forward. “Mother, you remember Chaol, don’t you?” he asked. “He’s my Hand now.”

She nodded to Chaol and he gave her a galant little bow. “Nice to see you again, your majesty.”

“And this is his wife, Lady Yrene Towers Westfall of the Torre Cesme,” Dorian continued.

Yrene curtseyed. “Your majesty.”

Georgina nodded, looking like she was barely paying attention. After a moment, she reached behind her and called, “Hollin, are you going to say hello?”

Footsteps sounded behind her and Dorian looked up to see his little brother standing quietly on the steps behind her.

Hollin had changed as much as Georgina had. His hair had grown long enough that it could be tied back with a ribbon. Like his mother, he’d lost weight and that made him and Dorian look more alike than they ever had before.

The biggest change, however was in mannerisms. The Hollin Dorian had known before would never had stood quietly and waited to be addressed. Hollin surveyed them all with a pinched look of someone who had learned something fundamentally nasty about the world. He didn’t look like someone who had just been freed from being possessed by a Valg prince all his life, but he did look different.

Hollin stared up into Dorian’s face for a long while before he spoke, “Is this you, Dorian?” he asked. “Is this really you?”

“Of course it is,” Dorian said. “Who else would it be?” He ignored the obvious, “A Valg prince masquerading as you” because there was no way that was what Hollin meant. He didn’t know what exactly his brother did mean, but he knew it wasn’t that; no one in the court had noticed that.

Hollin studied Dorian for so long it began to get uncomfortable, then he said, “I’m tired. Do I have a room to sleep in?”

“Yes,” Dorian said, caught wrongfooted. “Since your old room was in the glass palace, I had a room made up for you for tonight and then tomorrow you can choose another room.”

“Okay,” Hollin said. “That sounds good.”

Dorian had never heard Hollin say the words “okay” or “good” before. He was starting to wonder if it was possible the boy had been possessed.

“I’ll take you to your room,” Yrene said, bending down so she was more on Hollin’s level and holding out her hand. “Would you like that?”

Hollin eyed Yrene’s hand like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, then reached out slowly and took it. “I would like that,” he said. A pause. “Thank you.”

Yrene grinned and straightened up. “Come along, then,” she said leading him into the stone palace.

“I assume my chambers remain as they were before?” Georgina asked.

“Of course, Mother,” Dorian said shoving aside his shock at Hollin’s halfway human behavior. “I had them cleaned for you.”

“Thank you,” she said and headed into the palace after Hollin and Yrene.

Dorian shot a look at Chaol who just shrugged.

~~~~

The weeks passed. Georgina’s presence drew the courtiers back to the palace and within a week they were having parties just as they once had. Dorian avoided them like the plague, locking himself in his tower or shape-shifting into a crow and flying to the house Chaol was building for himself and Yrene or to the beach to watch the waves. Some nights he stood on his balcony, stared at the horizon and wondered how long it would take him to get to the Wastes if he shifted into a wyvern and made the wind blow at his back as he flew. He always managed to talk himself out of it. His magic was not boundless anymore and he needed to be careful of his limits. Someday, however, he promised himself, he would find an excuse to go the Wastes and see Manon’s queendom just as she had seen his kingdom.

There were a number of strange things going on, though. Hollin had been remarkably subdued. He hadn’t thrown any tantrums and hadn’t even chosen a new room. When Dorian had asked about it, Hollin had simply said the room he was currently in was “fine” and hadn’t elaborated when Dorian had pushed.

“Was he possessed before we defeated Erawan?” Dorian asked Yrene in an undertone one morning, after Hollin had been accidently served burnt porridge and had simply eaten it without comment until Georgina had swooped in and demanded something better for him.

“I checked the first day they arrived,” Yrene replied, her hand resting on her growing belly. “There’s no sign of Valg possession past or present.”

“But he’s acting so different,” Dorian said. “What other explanation in there?”

Yrene shrugged. “He’s had a hard few months, people change.”

Dorian glanced across the room and saw that Hollin was watching him with an intense expression. “He keeps doing that,” he said.

“Doing what?” Yrene asked, following his gaze.

“Watching me,” Dorian said. “Every time I turn around he’s staring at me. It’s freaking me out. I’m starting to think he’s plotting my murder.”

“I don’t think it’s anything that drastic,” Yrene said after a moment. “I’ll see what I can find out, but it might not be much; I don’t want to lose his trust.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said. “I’ll sleep a lot better at night if I know what exactly’s going on with him.”

~~~~

One night several weeks after Georgina and Hollin had returned to the palace, Dorian returned to his tower after a long day of politicking. When he finally got back to his tower, he had a headache and was exhausted from far too many nights of broken, nightmare-filled sleep. He was thinking of little more than collapsing face down onto his bed and trying to sleep for a few hours before the nightmares woke him again when he realized there was someone sitting on his bed. His first thought was that someone had broken in to kill him, then he recognized the moon-colored hair.

“Manon.”

She lifted her head to look at him and he realized her face was streaked with tears. He started across the room towards her and she threw herself into his arms. Dorian wrapped his arms around her and said nothing. She would speak when she was ready.

Manon only allowed herself about five minutes of tears before she pulled away and pushed her hair back from her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, tightly. “I just-”

“It’s fine,” Dorian said. “You’re allowed to cry. I won’t judge you for it and no one else should either.”

Manon collapsed down onto the bed and hugged herself. Dorian sat down next to her, close enough that she could lean against him if she wanted but not close enough that they were touching in case she didn’t want that. “I don’t even know what’s--why--” she sighed. “I can’t figure out what is different than any other week. Nothing unusual happened. I just can’t stop thinking about them and it hurts and I just needed to get away so I came-”

“So I came here.” Dorian was flattered that he was person she thought to come to when she was upset, but that was something to feel proud about at another time. “That happens sometimes,” he said once he’d had enough time to gather his thoughts and work out something intelligent to say. “I’m glad you came here instead of suffering alone.”

Manon nodded, her lips pressed tight together like she was trying not to cry again. She ran her hands into her hair and gripped tight. She didn’t have her iron nails out so Dorian took that as a victory, though she could pull her hair out by the roots without her nails.

“Can I hold you?” he asked. “Would that help?”

After a moment she nodded and Dorian carefully threaded his arms around her, holding her gently against him. Eventually they fell backwards onto the bed together and drew their legs up, not caring that they were both still wearing boots. Manon turned towards Dorian and wrapped her arms around him as well.

They lay together, listening to the sounds of their own breathing for a long, long time.

~~~~

When Dorian next woke the room was dark and chilly now that the fire had gone out. Manon was still curled up against him, fast asleep. At first he thought the cold had been what had woken him, but then he heard a tentative knocking on the door. He closed his eyes and hoped whoever was would just go away, but the knocking came again and again.

He opened his eyes again to find Manon awake, her golden eyes glowing. “Do people often knock on your door in the middle of the night?” she asked.

“No.”

“Then it's probably important,” she said. “You should answer it. Who knows, maybe it’s news that another demon king had broken into the world and has gone on a murderous rampage.”

Dorian’s stomach lurched at the thought. “That,” he said. “Is not funny,” but it got up and headed for the door.

When he opened the door, he was expecting news about anything from another country declaring war on Adarlan to Yrene going into early labor. What was actually waiting on the other side of the door was the exact last thing he ever would have expected.

“Hollin?”

His little brother looked up at him with serious eyes. He was dressed in sleep clothes and looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Hollin, it’s the middle of the night,” Dorian said, positioning his body so Hollin couldn’t see into the room and catch a glimpse of Manon. “You woke me up. Go back to bed; we can talk in the morning.”

“You’re still dressed,” Hollin pointed out, eyebrows raised. “You even have your boots on.”

He had a point. Dorian searched his mind for a better excuse but couldn’t find one. “It’s still late. You should be asleep and I need to get to bed if I’m going to be good for anything tomorrow. We can talk after breakfast.” He started to close the door, but Hollin’s hand shot out and stopped it.

“I know it wasn’t you,” Hollin said.

Dorian froze. “What are you talking about?” he asked, feeling ice crystals beginning to form on his teeth and tongue.

“At your birthday party. And around the palace before Mother and I were sent away,” Hollin said. “It looked like you, it sounded like you, but it wasn’t you. No one else seemed to notice, but I did and at first I thought I was crazy. Then we got trapped in the mountains and people were talking about how the enemy could invade someone and turn them into some else entirely, and I knew.”

Dorian didn’t know what it do. His ears rang and he felt like he was about to pass out. No one outside of those directly involved with Erawan’s defeat were supposed to know about Dorian’s possession. It was almost a bigger secret than the fact that Dorian had been the one to destroy the glass palace. Hollin couldn’t know. He just couldn’t.

“I think you better let him in, princeling,” Manon said coming up behind him. “This is not a conversation that should take place in a hallway.”

Hollin’s jaw dropped, his eyes got huge and his face turned beet red. “I-I-I-”

Manon pushed Dorian gently aside and motioned for Hollin to come in. “Don��t be embarrassed,” she crooned. “Nothing untoward is happening. Come in.”

Hollin stepped cautiously into the room, eyeing Manon carefully. He wasn’t stupid; he could tell Manon wasn’t human.

Dorian closed the door softly and leaned against it as Manon motioned for Hollin to sit down on the bed. “You should sit down too, princeling,” she said without looking at Dorian, “before you pass out.”

Dorian sunk down onto the bed leaving a good amount of space between himself and Hollin. Manon kicked off her boots and hitched herself up on the end of the bed so she was sitting on the frame with her feet on the mattress. For several minutes none of them spoke then Dorian finally managed to figure out what to say, “You said you knew it wasn’t me,” He said “How could you tell? You barely know me.”

“You didn’t find excuses to leave the room whenever I entered it,” Hollin said, matter-of-factly. “And Father actually seemed pleased with you most of the time.”

Dorian bit his lip. He hadn’t realized Hollin had noticed that he had avoided him, he’d thought the child to self-centered for that. The shame of it gutted him. Manon put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed cautiously like she wasn’t quite sure if she was doing it right.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Hollin said. “That’s where that came from, isn’t it?” He pointed at the band of pale skin around Dorian’s neck.

Dorian couldn’t stop from reaching up to touch the bare skin of his neck. “Yes,” He said after a minute. “That’s exactly where this came from.”

Hollin said nothing, chewing on his lip for a long time. “But…” he said. “You’re you now, right?” The words held more feeling than Dorian had ever heard from his little brother before. He realized this was what Hollin had meant when he’d asked if it was really Dorian on his first day back in Rifthold. He’d known that the last time he had seen Dorian it had been a demon and not his brother, and he’d been trying to figure out if that was still the case.

“It’s me now,” Dorian assured him. “I was rescued.”

Hollin nodded very slowly as he worked it over. “Can it take over again?”

Dorian whole being tensed to hear someone state the very thing that haunted his nightmares. Manon squeezed his shoulder again. “No,” he said after a moment, because that was what Hollin needed to hear. “Now that Erawan has been defeated, it can’t.”

Hollin pursed his lips and thought. Dorian waited for his reaction. “The soldiers in the keep talked about how the enemy could possess our own people,” he said after a while. “Mother said that was a folktale, but it wasn’t. That was how Erawan got his army.” Dorian nodded and Hollin went on, “Did anyone else get possessed? Or was it just you?”

Dorian opened his mouth, then stopped. He wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t just tell Hollin about their father. Hollin was a child, and even if he wasn’t, it wasn’t like there was any real reason he needed know now.

As if she could tell what he was thinking, Manon leaned forward. “You should tell him,” she said into his ear, soft enough that Hollin couldn’t hear but Dorian’s magic still picked up on it.

“I can’t tell him,” Dorian hissed back, knowing that Manon’s immortal hearing was better than a human’s. “He’s a child.”

“It’s his father too,” Manon said. “He deserves to know.”

“What are you talking about?” Hollin asked, sounding suspicious for the first time in the conversation.

Dorian sighed and Manon pulled away, though her hand still remained tentatively on his shoulder. “Hollin,” he said, trying to force the words out before he thought to much about what he was saying, “About our father…”

~~~~

Dorian tried to keep it simple, but Hollin still looked shell-shocked by the time he was done. He wasn’t surprised, after all, he’d destroyed a glass palace when he’d figured out his father had been possessed by a demon for most of his life. He felt like a terrible person for telling his little brother.

“Does Mother know?” Hollin finally got out.

“No,” Dorian admitted. “I haven’t been able to figure out how to tell her. Perhaps it’s better for her if she doesn’t know.”

“If we both know she needs to,” Hollin said. “Neither of us were married to him.”

Dorian just stared at him. “When did you learn how to-” he cut himself off when he realized that whatever he was about to say would definitely been insulting.

Unfortunately, Hollin seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. “Things were bad at the keep,” he said. “I suppose it could have been worse, but it still wasn’t good. The officers and soldiers didn’t take any shit, even from a prince.”

Manon chuckled. Dorian turned to ask what she thought was so funny, but Hollin said, “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

Too late Dorian realized that he’d never introduced them. “Oh,” he said, twenty years of court training the only thing keeping him from stammering. “Hollin, this is Manon. Manon, this is my brother, Hollin.”

“I gathered as much,” Manon said dryly. “A pleasure.”

Hollin looked from Dorian to Manon and back again. “Are you lovers?” he asked.

Manon choked.

Dorian burst out laughing. “Why are you so surprised, witchling?” he asked. “Ironteeth witches don’t marry!”

“I’m sorry,” Manon snarled, though when he turned his head he could see that she was smiling. “I was under the impression that humans were more prudish than witches.”

“He did grow up in the court of Adarlan,” Dorian pointed out.

Hollin cleared his throat. “Am I correct in assuming that the fact that Mother hasn’t been ranting about this means that this is another thing you haven’t told her about this either?”

“Yeah,” Dorian admitted. “She doesn’t know about this either.”

“Okay,” Hollin said after a moment. “I’m just going to stay out of this then.”

“That’s probably wise,” Manon said with a wicked smile that made Hollin cringe back in fear.

“Don’t worry, she’s harmless,” Dorian said with a grin. “Her wyvern likes flowers.”

Hollin chuckled cautiously, but Manon growled, “Thanks, princeling.”

“It’s true, you can’t deny it,” Dorian patted her hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry, we all love Abraxos anyway.”

She snarled, but Dorian just grinned at her.

~~~~

Dorian was woken yet again by someone knocking on his door. He opened his eyes and squinted at the morning sunlight that was filling the room. He and Manon were curled up together on at the foot of the bed while Hollin was sleeping at the head. None of them had actually decided that was how they were going to spend the night, that was just what had happened after they’d stayed up until just before the sun rose. After a moment of wishing people would just let him sleep, Dorian disentangled himself from Manon and went to the door.

His mother was standing outside.

“Mother?” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“Tomorrow night I’m throwing a banquet,” she said. “I have taken the liberty of announcing that you will attend and speak.”

“Mother!” the word burst out of Dorian before he had a chance to think. “Mother, you can’t just-”

“You have not attended a party of banquet since you became king,” Georgina said. “You will attend this one.”

“Mother, I am king,” he said. “You cannot force me to do this.”

“You are a young king with very little political support,” Georgina said through her teeth. “You need to make the right impression and convince everyone that you’re not insane and leading Adarlan to ruin.”

“Why would I be leading Adarlan to ruin, Mother?” Dorian snapped. “Because I’m not leading this country on a path of bloody conquering under the orders of a demon?”

Georgina sucked in a breath. There was a flush high on her cheeks. Dorian didn’t think he’d ever seen her so angry. “I’m not asking you to get down on your knees and worship a demon, Dorian!” she snapped. “I’m asking you to go to a party and speak to your people. I’m asking you to flirt with women. You’d think that you’d jump at the chance to do that.”

Dorian tried not to scream. His mother didn’t know what had happened to him, so it was unfair of him to expect her to understand. He wanted to tell her that there was no way that he would be going to the banquet, but if she had really told people he would be there he would have to attend or risk offending people. That was not something he could risk; Georgina was right about him needing political support.

“Fine,” he snarled. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” she said. “Wear something fashionable. Like you used to.” Then she turned and stalked away.

It took all Dorian’s self control not to slam the door. Instead he closed it quietly. Manon and Hollin were watching him, but neither of them said anything. Dorian leaned back against the door and stared up at the ceiling.

None of them said anything for a long time.

~~~~

The night of the banquet, Dorian ignored Georgina’s request to wear something like he used to. He did dress for the occasion, but it was something that he could fight in if he needed to.

He left Manon in his chambers, paging idly through one of his favorite books. He wasn’t sure why she hadn’t gone back to Wastes yet, and he wasn’t planning to ask for fear of causing her to leave. He knew that didn’t make any sense, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about it.

He was fashionably late for the banquet just like he’d learned to be as a younger man. Twenty years of life as a prince had trained him to be used to people staring at him, but he was not prepared for the way the entire ballroom froze when he was announced. It was as if everyone had been ordered to stare at the king and do nothing else. He faltered for a split second then his upbringing took over. He smiled easily and headed across the room towards Chaol and Yrene, the only non-threatening people in the room.

Even though this banquet was being held in a ballroom in the stone castle and not the glorious one in the glass palace, Dorian was shocked by how much it felt just the same. The room was decorated with unnecessary extravagance and the people looked the same and sounded the same. It even smelled the same.

Dorian felt his stomach clench and his heartbeat start to speed up. He tried to ignore it. This was just a party. He’d been in hundreds before. There was nothing to be nervous about, even if he had been possessed the last time he’d been at a party of Adarlan’s court.

When he reached Chaol and Yrene, he told himself to calm down. Chaol and Yrene would protect him. A second later he realized how ridiculous that was and cursed himself for thinking it.

“Well it seems that losing the glass palace did not change the court’s parties in any substantial way,” Chaol said, studying the decorations and the people. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Yeah,” Dorian said blankly, still trying to get his nerves under control.

Yrene was watching him with a penetrating sort of knowing that only healers seemed to possess. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” he said. There was nothing else to say. He had to be here so he had no choice but to be fine.

Chaol looked more closely at Dorian, eyes narrowed as he looked for whatever had worried his wife. Before he could make his own inquiries about how Dorian was doing, someone swooped in and grabbed Dorian by the arm.

Dorian couldn’t help it. He flinched. It wasn’t a small flinch either. It was a big, obvious, impossible to hide flinch. His magic flared, coating his mouth with ice.

“I’m sorry for startling you, your majesty,” the woman who was hanging off his arm said. Albertine. They’d been something once several years ago, before she’d run off with a soldier. Dorian didn’t know the details and didn’t want to, but she hadn’t spoken to him since.

“Hello, Albertine,” Dorian said. His words came out on a cloud of his breath even though the air around him was warm. He made a conscious effort to calm down.

“It’s so nice to see you again after so long!” Albertine said like she hadn’t been the one to call off their whatever-it-was. “I’ve missed you so and I know you must have missed me too!”

Dorian hadn’t missed her and she knew she probably hadn’t missed him either. Their relationship had been nothing more than teenagers fooling around and they’d both known that. The only reason Albertine was pretending otherwise was because Dorian was king now and that meant he needed a queen.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Dorian said mostly to be polite. He tried to extract his arm from Albertine’s but her grip was too tight.

“It certainly is,” She stood on her toes and leaned in close enough that Dorian could feel her warm, very human breath against his cheek. She was probably saying something flirty, but Dorian couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t hear anything anymore, not over the ringing in his ears.

Albertine had brown hair, but other than that, she didn’t look like Sorscha at all. That didn’t matter. The hair and the fragile humanness of her was enough. The ballroom and the banquet vanished and he was kneeling in the throne room of the glass palace, soaked in Sorscha’s blood, screaming and screaming and screaming.

Someone ripped Albertine away from him and at the same time ripped him back into reality. Dorian blinked, breathless and off-balance as he tried to figure out where he was and what was going on. Sorscha’s blood and the sound of his own screaming still echoed in his head.

“Hello, I’m Lady Yrene Westfall,” Yrene was saying, her body placed defensively between Dorian and Albertine. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so new to court and completely lost. Can you please show me around?”

“Dorian,” Chaol said from Dorian’s side. “Come with me.”

Dorian nodded blankly and began to walk with his friend through the throngs of laughing people. He felt like he was looking at everything through a couple layers of separation. There had been so much blood…

“Can I touch you?” Chaol asked under his breath. That must have been something he’d learned from Yrene because pre-Yrene Chaol would never have realized that maybe he should ask first.

Dorian shook his head vigorously. He didn’t want to risk Chaol’s touch setting him off again.

“Alright,” Chaol guided Dorian out of the ballroom and out into the gardens without touching him or letting anyone else touch him.

They walked through the gardens until Dorian couldn’t anymore. “Stop,” he said, stumbling up against a fountain, one arm wrapped around his stomach and the other clutching at his neck, fingers scraping against bare skin of his neck looking for a collar that wasn’t there. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Chaol asked, he was hovering nearby but not to close. “Dorian, what’s going on?”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Dorian got out through clenched teeth, his breaths distinct puffs in the far-from-freezing air. He swallowed heavily, trying to keep his stomach where it belonged.

He slid down the ground and curled up, forehead pressing against his knees. He stayed like that for a while without moving until his stomach began to settle and he was able to admit that the he probably wasn’t going to puke if only because he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He lifted his head and Chaol was kneeling next to him looking like he had no idea what to do.

“What was that?” Chaol asked.

“Flashback,” Dorian said roughly.

“Are you…” Chaol began then trailed off like he wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m alright now,” Dorian forced himself to uncurl. There was blood under the nails of the hand that had been clawing at his throat. He’d broken skin. He sat on that hand in an effort to hide it, though he figured Chaol had probably already noticed.

They sat in silence for a long time, then Chaol said, “Does this happen often?”

Dorian shrugged. “Sometimes,” he said. “There’s a lot of different factors. It’s happening a lot more now that the war is over, which doesn’t make any sense.”

Chaol thought for a long time. Dorian could see him trying to come up with the right thing to say and failing. Time and silence stretched on until Dorian heard giggling voices of a couple heading into the gardens. Chaol began to get to his feet, presumably to tell the couple to the return to the palace because the king was in the gardens, but Dorian was already and his feet and fleeing back to the palace.

He ignored Chaol calling after him.

~~~~

As humiliating as it was, Dorian was on the verge of tears by the time he got back to his tower room. Manon was still sitting on his bed, bent over the book and looking considerably more engaged than she had been when he’d left. When she looked up she was smiling slightly, but when she saw him the expression froze and melted away into something unfamiliar.

“What happened?” she was on her feet and at Dorian’s side in seconds. “Who hurt you? Tell me.”

It took Dorian a minute to remember how to speak. “It’s-It’s nothing.”

Manon snorted. “If you’re going to lie to me, princeling, I’d appreciate more effort than that.”

“Nothing happened,” Dorian said. He made more of an effort to speak levelly and calmly this time and sort of managed it.

“I still don’t believe you,” Manon said, her golden eyes bored into him, seeming to see everything. “You’re shaking like a leaf and you have blood under your fingernails. What happened? Where you attacked?”

“I-” Dorian tried, then looked away. He wasn’t sure where to start. “No,” he said. “I wasn’t attacked. I-” he managed to look up at her again. “Do you have any idea how much blood there is when someone is beheaded?”

Understanding dawned on Manon’s face. “Oh,” she said.

Dorian turned away. “I don’t even know why it happened. It should have been fine. And now Chaol probably thinks I’m insane and any number of the people could have seen. This is a disaster. I need to fix it. I don’t know how to fix it. I-”

“Dorian,” Manon said, when he didn’t respond she said again, “Dorian,” Then she lunged to the bed, picked something up and set it in his hands. It was the book she’d been reading. “You told me that this is one of your favorite books,” she said. “Tell me what you like about it.”

“But-” Dorian stared blankly down at the book. “But Chaol saw-”

“Dorian,” Manon said, not necessarily sharply, but in a tone that allowed for no argument. “Tell me what you like about this book. Please.”

Dorian took a deep shaky breath and tried to think. “Well, for one,” he said tremulously. “It’s got a really unique magic system...”

~~~~

Dorian lost track of time as he and Manon sat on his bed. Dorian held the book in his lap and talked, describing why it was one of his favorites in a depth he’d never attempted before. Manon sat next to him nodding encouragingly and sometimes asking questions. She was undeniably deeply engaged and didn’t complain even when he ended forgetting that she hadn’t finished it and spoiling things.

When he finally reached the end, he sighed. “I need to go back to the party,” he said. “I have a speech I need to give. It’s been publicized. I can’t just skip it.”

“I’ll come with you,” Manon said. When Dorian just blinked at her in surprise she said, “Technically I’m a visiting foreign dignitary. No one will be able to question it if I show up and we’ll have an excuse to stay close to each other.”

She had a point and Dorian did not want to go and face that party again alone.

“Alright,” he said. “Do you have something to wear?”

~~~~

Manon had a clean set of riding leathers in her pack as well as her crown. Dorian almost asked why she felt the need to have that with her at all times, but she gave him a look that said not to.

Dorian changed because there were dirt and grass stains on the knees of his pants and because he just wanted to put his previous experience at the party behind him. His magic had healed the scratches he’s gouged into his own throat while crawling at a nonexistent collar, but he still had to wash blood out from under his fingernails.

When he was finished with these preparations, Manon was ready as well. She was wearing a red cloak that Dorian recognized as one of his own from when he was much younger. She held another cloak out to him, this one a dark blue which matched with the clothes he was wearing. “Here,” she said. “Put this on. We can match.”

Dorian took the cloak with a smile and swung it over his shoulders. Though he owned cloaks, he had never been much for them as a fashion statement. He’d worn heavy black oilskin cloaks while traveling with the Thirteen to stay dry, but wearing one to a party was something that he normally wouldn’t do. Granted, he did lots of things he normally wouldn’t do now so it didn’t matter that much.

Manon looked him up and down. “You look like you won’t take anyone’s shit,” she said. “It’s a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” He said. “So do you.”

Manon grinned wickedly. “That’s the point, princeling. That’s the point.”

~~~~

Dorian found himself walking down the hall leading to the banquet hall again. He was still a little anxious but Manson’s presence at his side calmed him.

Manon was studying the walls and ceiling and floor. Dorian could see her noticing the places where the stone castle was scarred from the broken shards of glass from the glass palace hurtling through the corridors. When most people noticed those things they looked horrified, but Manon looked impressed like she approved of the fact Dorian had been able to wreak this much havoc. Dorian was bizarrely comforted.

The guards were anything but comforted. Manon was unarmed, unless she had a knife down her down one of her boots like Dorian did, but she still radiated the aura of someone who could and would kill anyone who got in her way. The guards shifted worriedly and reached for their weapons. They all seemed to be contemplating whether or not they needed to swoop in and save their king. Dorian gave a couple of them an easy grin in an attempt to show that everything was fine.

The man whose job is was to announce anyone entering the the ballroom room banked at Dorian’s reappearance and outright flinched at sight of Manon beside him.

“Sorry to bother you again,” Dorian said politely. “But can you please announce us?”

The man ripped this terrified gaze away from Manon and stammered, “Yes, your Highness. How should I announce the lady?”

“Manon Blackbeak-Crochan,” Manon said coolly. “Queen of the Witches.”

Somehow the man managed to become even paler and more terrified. “Yes, right. A pleasure to meet you, you Highness,” he gave a quavering little bow and hurried off to take his position.

Dorian stood before the doors and took a moment to put himself together and prepare for the returning the party. He straightened his cloak and sleeves and reminded himself that he could be as uncomfortable as he wanted when all this was over.

“Are you going to take my arm?” Manon asked.

Dorian blinked. “Do you want me to?”

She grinned. “Think of it. We’d probably give Lord Westfall and your mother aneurysms.”

Dorian smiled at the thought and held out her arm. She slid her arm through his and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll just hang out and scare your mother and best friend until you need to give your speech,” Manon said, matter-of-factly. “Then we’ll return to your tower. I know you haven’t been sleeping any better than I have; we both need to rest.”

Under other circumstances, Dorian might have argued, but the idea of the party having a definite end was comforting. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Good,” she said as the doors to the ballroom opened. They both turned to face forward and lifted their heads high.

They walked into the ballroom arm in arm, and somehow the stunned faces of the guests seemed more manageable.

[chimmy-joos]

The Proposal part 5 |M|

Description: You’re tired of being alone for years without a boyfriend so you propose a deal to Jimin. Little did you know your little affair will unfold to be more than secret kisses at night.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 12.2K

Tags: angst, smut, fluff, swearing, slight sub!Jimin, masturbation, slight cum play, oral sex

Part 1 2 3 4

A/N: for starters, I apologize for the long wait. I had a hard time planning this chapter out and put myself in a rut because of it. Word of advice, don’t think about it too much. Just write. I know a lot of you have been asking about this update and I regret how long it took, but in any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter and im sorry please don’t kill me

Three Months. It had been three whole months since the last time Jimin had spoken to you.

To be more exact, it had been two months and twenty seven days, but Jimin didn’t count the days where you walked into class during the middle of a lecture because you didn't look at him—not even bothering to acknowledge his existence. To a degree, Jimin respected the way you exhibited pride. So much so that he might call himself a masochist for wishing you would glance at him just once, even if it was a glare. At least you still knew he existed. Other than that, there was absolutely no contact. He wondered if you blocked him, or worse, deleted his number. The last thing you had said to him was, 'let's end this' and to top it off, it wasn't even in person. Jimin reread his messages with you over and over again as his mind thought of millions of ways to once again say hello.

Jimin knew he was at fault, but he couldn't muster up the courage to apologize because… What would you say? You were too strong and independent of a woman to give into his apology so easily, but at the same time you were so sweet and merciful, it gave Jimin all the more hope to believe that you would forgive him.

It was a shameful thing for Jimin to admit that he spent the beginning of summer vacation moping around his apartment when he should be out enjoying the little window of freedom he had, but his motivation to do anything was at a new low. He didn't know how to feel, frankly. It was the first time Jimin had ever felt this way towards a girl, dealing with these foreign heart twinges and clammy hands like a middle schooler trying to whoo his crush.

It had only been three months, but there wasn't a day Jimin didn't think of you.

—

“Jimin, you have to stop this.” Taehyung snapped at Jimin as he stood wit his hands crossed over his chest. Taehyung was blocking Jimin’s view of late night re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and he wasn’t very appreciative of the new view in front of him: Taehyung’s light blue striped boxers. Well, in all fairness, Jimin had no right to complain when he too was wearing bright red Calvin Klein briefs. When three college boys live in a small apartment with no women coming in or out of here, there really isn’t a reason to dress to impress anyone.

“Get your dick out of my face.” Jimin glared menacingly at his best friend. Taehyung stood his ground and even had the audacity to stick his hips out.

“Not until you get off of this couch. If you sit here any longer, your ass will get flat and nobody will want to take you on a date.” Taehyung snickered. Jimin knew he was simply trying to get under his skin and he wasn’t going to allow it. He stood up and shoved Taehyung in the chest with his arm with enough force for him to lean back. Jimin glared him from the same eye-level now.

“Don’t spite me, Tae. I’m not in the mood.” He snarled. Taehyung, with a smile on his lips, gently lowered Jimin’s arm and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“I don’t mean any harm, brother,” he said. Jimin scoffed and whipped around. He turned off the t.v. and retreated to his room, Taehyung trudging shortly behind, still casually shirtless with his hands shoved in his boxers. (At the sides, of course.) Jimin fell onto his desk chair and let it swirl him around while Taehyung jumped on his bed, messing up the blankets more than it already was. “You need to stop this, dude.”

“I literally haven’t done anything, what are you talking about?” Jimin threw his hands up in distress.

“That’s exactly it!” Taehyung straightened his back and clasped his hands together, as if he was about to drop some real shit. “You’ve been dragging your depressed ass around this apartment and it feels like someone died in here every time I come home! What you need to do is get out of this house—maybe go on a drive or go to the gym.”

“Which I do very often,” Jimin intervened, pointing to his car keys on top of his desk. Jimin stretched his arm out and gestured at his muscular bicep. “Just because I sit at home more often now doesn’t mean that I’m neglecting other shit. At least I’m still paying rent.”

“Jimin, as your roommate, I couldn’t care less about what you do as long as you’re contributing, but as your best friend, I can’t stand seeing you like this. You can’t forget who you are just because of some girl.”

Again, Jimin glared. “She’s not just some girl.”

“Oh really? Then why haven’t I seem her in last three months?” Taehyung raised a brow and that immediately shut Jimin up. "I've known you since high school and I know how you are with girls that you like. You always find a way to fuck shit up with them."

Jimin couldn't even begin to argue because if anyone could prove him wrong, it was Taehyung, the one man who actually knew Jimin. Feeling content with Jimin's silence, Taehyung continued.

"Remember what happened with Soo Rin?"

Jimin rolled his eyes and groaned; his neck rolled around. "Soo Rin was talking to like, 50 guys at once."

"True, but that's not my point. My point is how you stopped talking to her because your pathetic ass felt too insecure about her not liking you and what happened afterwards? You found out that she was waiting for you to ask her out."

"And then I found out that she was talking to 50 guys."

"Yeah, but would Y/N really do that?" Again, Jimin kept silent and Taehyung knew he was right. Then, he straightened up abruptly.

"Okay fine, lets say I make up with Y/N. Then what? Things won't be the same." Jimin shook his head, remembering his own faulty actions. Taehyung shrugged at him, lips stretched into a linear smile.

“You start over. Make things right with her, actually create a connection with her. You know, friends without benefits.” Taehyung suggested. Little did he know that that common ground had already been established by long phone calls that lasted throughout the night where you spilled more than what you should’ve. Jimin didn’t mind in the slightest. He was more or less thankful that you were such an open book. It saved him the effort and hardship of breaking down your trust walls.

Jimin tilted his head, looking at Taehyung with big, beady eyes. “Do you really think that’s going to work?” He asked with a sliver of hope in his voice.

Taehyung shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s better than sitting on your ass all day blasting old school R&B slow jams, don’t you think?” He suggested and he crossed his legs. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Jimin didn’t answer, but instead wrinkled his brows in a skeptical way, as if to say, what are you up to this time?

“Do you love her?” Taehyung asked. The word love sounded so childish and foreign to him, but then again it was Jimin who couldn’t comprehend the concept of love. He had never felt this way about anybody before and it threw him in for a loop. He sighed deeply, and rubbed his face with his hands and raked them through his hair.

“I don’t know anything about love, dude.” Jimin laughed at himself and shook his head in disbelief.

“No ones an expert. I say, take my advice because she’s a really great girl. Like—a thousand times better than any other girls you’ve dated.”

Jimin scoffed. “Yeah, I know.”

Of course he knew. He knew more than anyone about how you can completely change the room’s atmosphere with a single jingle of your laughter. He hasn’t met a single person—a single soul in the world much like yours. You see the world differently, but you’re so accepting of everything. You’re truly a saint and Jimin can’t help but feel his encounter with you was a trial to test his capabilities to cherish someone. And he even managed to fuck that up. Then again, these infatuated thoughts of you that muddled his brain were only affecting him. He knew neither Taehyung nor Jungkook—not a single person could possibly understand what he was going through and how much Jimin wanted to rip out his own heart and toss it into the trash, promptly setting it on fire so he would never have to go through this pain ever again.

But the pain Jimin felt in his chest every morning when he woke up, weighing his body down like a dark energy clung to him, whispering everyday into his ear—tormenting him. He was a sorry excuse for a man who couldn’t even come to terms with his own feelings.

Taehyung noticed Jimin turn stiflingly silent. He had never seen Jimin like this and it pained him to watch his best friend look so... depressed. He was never like this, but then again, Jimin had also never been in love with someone. Well, Jimin argued over whether or not he was in love, but Taehyung was perceptive enough to notice the change in Jimin’s spirit. It was as if he was an entirely new person from high school and even his early years in college. He was bubblier, smiled more and although Jimin was rarely home nowadays, Taehyung had a hunch that he was spending his time valuably.

Taehyung clapped his hands loudly, jolting Jimin out of his silence. “Alright! I have a surprise for you, brother! Tonight, I am taking you to a party. Nothing too serious, it’ll just be our close friends.” He proposed, grinning enthusiastically. Jimin quirked his rectangular eyes as a series of emotions passed through him.

“Tae... I don’t know if I’m ready to do something like that yet.” He replied honestly; Jimin’s voice was soft and quivered on edge. His hands were sewed tightly together and he was bent over, elbows resting on his exposed thighs.

“It’s just a suggestion. I won’t force you or anything, but I’m inviting you as your best friend. I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore,” Taehyung said sincerely. Jimin stole a glance at him as he stood from the bed and headed to the door. Taehyung stopped in the middle of the doorway, grasping the wooden frame and craned his neck back. “Feel better, okay?” He reassured and softly clicked the door shut behind him.

-

Later that night, Taehyung texted Jimin the address of the party with an attached message that wrote, “just in case you’re feeling up to it”. He was so grateful to have someone like Taehyung in his life and he knew for a fact that he wasn’t deserving of someone as caring as him. Taehyung put in so much effort to pull Jimin off his ass and here he still sat the morning of the party with dark bags that hung from his droopy eyes and greasy, messy hair. God, he was a hot mess.

“Aren’t you coming with?” Jungkook asked as he pushed open the door to Jimin’s room. He was dressed up in a black v-neck with an equally dark jacket thrown over and green, army pants. Jungkook was running his fingers through his permed hair to style it.

Jimin on the other hand, was sitting cross-legged in his swivel chair with headphones around his neck and was playing The Weeknd’s Wasted Times on full volume. At this point, it might’ve jumped up to his most played song. Jimin lowered the volume to hear Jungkook better.

“If you get ready now, you can still make it to the pre-game.” The younger boy taunted as he straightens his collar. Taehyung had left earlier in order to help prepare for the party considering he was on alcohol duty. Jimin’s lips formed a straight line. First it was Taehyung, now Jungkook needed to stick his nose into his business? How low had Jimin sunken?

“Be honest with me, Jungkook. Do you think it’s best for me to be going to a party right now?” He gestured to his face and down to his disorderly attire.

“Yes,” Jungkook replied bluntly. “I’m not like Taehyung either. I’m not going to baby you and let you do as you wish forever.”

“Excuse me?” Jimin sharpened his tone.

“You let an amazing woman slip through your fingers and now you’re facing the consequences—which you should be. You’ve respectfully atoned for your mistakes, but it’s time to turn yourself around. I know Y/N would hate seeing you like this.”

“Which is exactly why I have been avoiding her at all costs.”

“Is it? Or is it the other way around?” Jungkook snapped back. Jimin didn’t respond. “Either way, I can’t bear seeing you like this. Come out for a drive sometime.” Jungkook said and closed the door behind him. Jimin waited until he heard the front door open and shut, meaning that Jungkook had left.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook were right. Everything they said, be it comforting or not, was just to encourage Jimin to look past his faults, his insecurities, and that damned possessive mindset that was the quintessential factor towards his downfall. He knew he had to change, but was he capable of doing so? Was he able to pull himself out of this dark, negative pit that prevented him from seeing the light of a future that in his ideal world, promised you?

It was an entirely new experience for Jimin to be standing in front of the bathroom mirror, smoothing down his navy green long sleeve repetitively. It was as if his thin silver chain was never centered correctly and there was always a strand of hair that was out of place. Had he always been this nit-picky about his appearance?

Nonetheless, he had put in this much effort to look like this and he wasn’t the type of man to give up halfway. He had to go to to this party now. Jimin told himself that if the party was anything near terrible, he’d find the closest exit and leave while snatching a bottle of alcohol to drink in the security of his room walls. He also decided to take an Uber because he had no idea how much he would be drinking tonight. Jimin could feel his anxiety rise in his stomach as he approached the house. He had never been in this neighborhood before, but he could tell he was near because the cars along the sidewalk were increasing. He took a deep breath as the driver pulled to a halt.

“Alright man, this is it,” the driver said and gave Jimin a concerned look. “You good, man?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks.” He replied back hastily and got out of the car. Once the Uber car drove off, Jimin was left to his own devices. He walked towards the house with heavy steps and it felt like eternity before Jimin reached the front door; he simply stared at the doorknob. Why was he so nervous? This might’ve been the hundredth party he’s attended so it shouldn’t even be a big deal. Were you feeling these nerves every time Jimin asked you to come to a party? And how you were always reluctant to go? God, it was like he was being reminded of how big of a dick he was every single day.

Jimin bundled up his nerves and pushed his way through the door; loud hip-hop music vibrated through Jimin’s skull. He scanned the foyer of the house and took in his new surroundings. The interior was definitely fancier than he had expected.

“Just our close friends, my ass...” Jimin muttered under his breath. Perhaps he had been too nervous to notice the posh neighborhood he had entered. Redwood laminated floors were laid all throughout the house and pristine white walls reached to the high ceiling. It was a bit overwhelming so Jimin maneuvered through the clusters of people to find a beer or some Hennessy. Anything would suffice.

Jimin stumbled into the kitchen area and managed to find a cold beer in the fridge. He cracked it open and gulped the bittersweet nectar until it was half empty. The taste lingered on his tongue and he smacked his lips. It was like being reminded of his partying days. Jimin roamed the house idly with a drink in his hand to keep himself occupied. He searched for Jungkook or Taehyung since they were not there to greet him at the door which meant they were deeper inside the house possibly already drunk off their asses. Jimin turned the corner and entered the living room, fashionably furnished with black leather couches and even a fireplace topped with family photos framed in elegant frames. Luckily, he saw Jungkook sitting in the center of one couch; Jimin perked up brightly.

“Jungko—“ he called out and stopped himself short, his voice caught in the middle of his throat. Sitting on the end of the couch rolling a glass of wine in her hand was you. Your hair was braided and there was a small, flowery pin tucked behind your ear. You wore a tight, black dress with gold accents along the waist and thin straps that rest over your small shoulders. You wore a long gold necklace with a small charm at the end that dipped into the crevice of your breasts. Your smooth legs were pointed downward as you sat on the edge of the couch; red bottom heels shaped your feet and added a sexy flare to your outfit. Jimin stood frozen in place—his eyes wider than they’ve ever been as the room slowed down. You were the center of his attention and suddenly, it felt at that moment, Jimin wasn’t surrounded by swarms of people. At that moment, it was like the first time he had ever laid eyes on you and fell in love all over again. You were so close—literally just a few feet away from him, yet it felt like you were worlds away.

Your bright laughter yanked Jimin from his thoughts and he frantically retreated behind a small group of people and then slowly hid behind a wall. Why he was hiding was entirely unknown to him. It wasn’t like this was your party or he was avoiding you. He simply thought… it would be best if you didn’t see him in his lowest state. But as Jimin closed his eyes, he could still very vividly make out the curvatures of your dress and your exposed collarbone, the light but beautiful makeup that matched so elegantly with your dress—

Jimin’s jaw slacked and he looked down at his crotch; his cock was semi-hard in his jeans and he could just make out the outline of his erection. Jimin’s hand flew to pull his shirt down and cover his erection and looked around for the nearest vacant bathroom. Unfortunately, the first floor of the house was so cluttered with people, Jimin fled upstairs in hopes of finding a bathroom up there. He climbed the stairs with long strides, shouldering through the people blocking the top of the stairs. Jimin saw a door that was slightly ajar and he ran for it, slamming the door open. There was a couple inside; the girl was perched on the counter while the man stood between her legs with his arms wrapped around her waist as they kissed. When Jimin entered, the two pulled away in shock.

“Get out.” He huffed with a crazed look in his eye. The couple was reluctant at first and gave each other a strange look. “Now.” He growled and the two then hurriedly gathered themselves and fled the bathroom which Jimin locked on their way out. He fell back against the door and rest his head against the wood while raising his shirt with trembling hands. He peered down at his erection that wasn’t going away. Jimin cursed under his breath and breathed heavily. He couldn’t walk out there with his dick half hard in his jeans, but there was no other way of getting rid of it besides taking a cold shower, which was entirely out of the question.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck me.” Jimin cursed at himself and gnawed on his lower lip as he daintily traced the outline of his cock through his jeans with the pads of his fingers. His breathe hitched as he moved his way to the tip, swirling small circles around it. Jimin suppressed a moan in his throat and allowed his eyes to close. He imagined you in your black dress again and how your ass looked in that tight, black satin. In his formulated fantasy, you were slowly sliding the dress up your thighs until he saw a black thong—god, your ass looked so plump he wanted to caress it and pinch it.

Jimin unbuttoned his jeans with nimble fingers and reached into his underwear to cup his balls that had made his underwear hot and sweaty. He fondled them in his hands before sliding his hand along his hard shaft, slowly tracing out the veins. Jimin pinched the swollen head of his cock and whimpered, lurching forward from the sudden pleasure that jolted through him. He inhaled deeply and took his cock from out of his underwear; a thin string of precum had dampened a spot in his clothes. He swiped his thumb through it and smeared the liquid over the red tip.

Jimin bit down hard on his lip to keep from making any noises as he started to massage his cock slowly with just the pressure of his fingers. He pulled the skin around his cock down to the base before sliding back up to the tip. The slow movements were just enough to pump more blood into his cock, but Jimin loved the teasing pleasure he was giving himself.

“A-Ahh… Y/N…” he moaned your name in a raspy voice; one hand slipping under his shirt to touch his abdomen. He started moving faster and wrapped his entire hand around his cock to give it more elongated motions. Jimin hissed when he enveloped the reddened head and pulled downward. His hips would jerk forward every time he reached the base and it wasn’t long until he was thrusting his hips into his own hand. His moans were harder to silence and came out as broken grunts of pleasure.

He nestled his head against the door and he could feel the back of his hair get tangled from the friction. He had spent so much time styling it to perfection and now he couldn’t care less as he was preoccupied stroking his dick in one hand while the other grazed the skin of his stomach. He recalled the night he last was able to see you, to caress your moonlit skin. It had been so long, but he could still remember the allure of your honey voice and how you beckoned for him. He remembered tracing his gentle hand over the blades of your shoulder and down the valley of your back; your gorgeous, plump breasts that he grasped in his hands while rolling your nipples between his fingers.

Jimin slid his fingers down his bare naval to cup his scrotum, giving his balls a firm squeeze. An involuntary loud grunt broke though his lips and he started stroking his cock in a faster pace; the prominent squelching sounds caused by his energetic movements filled Jimin’s head, evoking more memories of his after-dusk affairs that he shared with you. He imagined sliding his length over your tight, wet slit while staring into your starry eyes. Your lips—he couldn’t believe such a beautiful smile could utter such sinful words and oh, how he loved kissing them. He loved holding your face in his hand, brushing your hair behind your ears while your nose squished against his by how passionate you would get.

He wrapped his slippery hand around the end of his penis and snapped his hips wildly while gripping the base of his shaft. He pierced the skin of his bottom lip from his teeth but Jimin, in that moment of ecstasy, didn’t feel any pain. Only the blinding white pleasure that flashed behind his eyes. He called out your name once more in a trembling, needy breath before spurts of white, hot cum unleashed from his urethra. Jimin cupped his hand over the tip, but his energetic cum flew past his open fingers. His chest heaved and his whole body twitched from the aftermath, but he didn’t dare open his mouth to release the moans of pleasure.

Jimin slowly blinked his eyes open and adjusted to the light of the bathroom from the darkness behind his eyelids that he were squeezing so tightly shut. He glanced down at the mess he made—milky spunk coated his palms, darkened his jeans and he even managed to get it on the tiled bathroom floor.

“Shit!” He spat and pulled his drawers up with his clean hand before grabbing sheets of toilet paper and wiped his cum shamefully. After flushing the remnants in the toilet, Jimin washed his hands once, maybe three times simply because of the guilt that settled uncomfortably in his stomach. He had never, not once been able to cum by just thinking about someone. Masturbating to visual stimulation was easy and sure, everyone watched porn, but to be able to get hard by seeing you in a dress and cumming by fantasizing about holding you again was different. He felt wrong, despite how good it felt. Jimin splashed freezing cold water on his face to cleanse him of the sinful feeling and scrubbed the tiled floor so hard he got a cramp in his hand.

He left the bathroom with his head hung low so he wouldn’t be noticed and fled downstairs. He didn’t want to stay any longer because Jimin was sure his face was beet red. However, as soon as he reached the bottom of the staircase, he bumped into someone. He stumbled forward and muttered a “my bad” over his shoulder, but barely stayed to sincerely apologize. He set his eyes on the door and his feet led him outside.

-

[Reader’s POV]

You stood on the tips of your heels to look over the crowds’ head, eyes darting around frantically. You were shoved by the people around you because of your small stature, but you still hunted for that familiar head of jet black hair. Could it be him? Could it be the man that appeared in your thoughts like a runaway dream? Or perhaps you were just chasing the ghost of a man that you used to know.

Eventually, you gave up on trying to find Jimin as you lost track of all the black hair in the mass of people. You were sure—almost positive that it was Jimin. There was no mistaking the familiar tone. You listened to his velvety voice nearly everyday and you could pick him out blindfolded by his breathing.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but there was no mistaking what you heard. You didn’t have much confidence despite the beautiful dress that you humbly modeled tonight, but you were confident that the voice belonged to Jimin.

You found your way back to the living room where a group of your friends were in the middle of a game of Mafia. You had already been killed off as a civilian so you went to refill your glass of wine. You rest your bum on the arm of the couch and sipped your drink while you waited for the game to finish. Jungkook, who had also been killed off in the beginning of the game because he was “too suspicious” (he was innocent by the way), slid into the seat next to you and looked up at you with beady eyes.

“How are you enjoying your night, Miss?” He asked. You gave a curt nod and sloshed your wine around in your glass.

“The night is still young and this is my fourth glass of wine, I’d say it’s going pretty well.” You replied. Jungkook laughed and rest his arm on your thigh. His large hand cupped your kneecap and he squeezed. Your eyes darted to his subtle hand that he laid on you.

“Then won’t you come home with me afterwards?” He said in a sultry voice. You tried not to visibly cringe at his words. Jungkook had been hitting on you on and off ever since you stopped talking to Jimin and you hated the fact that he was so quick to jump in front of the line. Jungkook was hot and you knew you should feel lucky that he was trying to impress you so hard, but you didn’t feel a single ounce of attraction towards Jungkook. And you weren’t petty enough to sleep with Jungkook to get revenge on Jimin. You couldn’t imagine going back into the same apartment where everything started.

You brushed his hand off and strained a soft smile. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, but you know I can’t do that.”

He pouted and if he had puppy dog ears, they would be wilted. “So it can’t be me? No matter how hard I try?”

“I’d be lying if I said I never gave it a thought, but I don’t think I’ll be looking for a relationship anytime soon.”

“Or at least, not with me, right?” He asked and you gave Jungkook a puzzled look. “Is it because of Jimin?”

You glared at the younger man. “Me being single has absolutely nothing to do with anyone and I would appreciate it if you didn’t associate my happiness with being in a relationship. I am perfectly fine by myself.” You snapped while clenching your wine glass in silent rage. Jungkook backed away with his hands up in defense.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I just thought I’d have a chance and shoot for it.” He apologized and you huffed.

“Well, as long as you understand,” you sipped your wine. “I don’t mean to be that girl, but how is he?”

“Jimin? Hah, that man hasn’t left his room in the longest time.” Jungkook scoffed while thinking back to earlier today when he tried to pry Jimin off his ass. “I invited him and I’m sure Taehyung did too, but who knows? That man hasn’t been willing to do anything with us lately.”

“Is that so?”

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but it must’ve been pretty bad,” Jungkook said and stopped himself short, giving you a side glance. “Sorry, too soon?”

“Not at all,” you shrugged and gulped down your glass of wine. You jumped off the arm of the couch and pulled down your dress over your ass. “I think I’m going to go.”

“So soon? But it’s so early.” Jungkook pouted as he watched you leave.

“Yes, well, if you must know I’ve never been one to stay long at parties.”

You hitched a ride with one of your friends that just so happened to be leaving at the same time. She dropped you off back home at your apartment and you took your time unwinding, stripping off your dress and throwing it on your chair to hang it up later. You undid your hair from its tight braid and let it fall loosely, the strong scent of shampoo emanated from your wavy locks. You wiped your makeup off and hopped into the shower because being in an extremely crowded area made you feel unnecessarily more sweatier than usual.

After showering, you were finally able to relax in bed, but even as you hugged your throw pillow and propped yourself up to finish the latest season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, your mind wandered elsewhere. What if Jimin had come to the party? What if you two had crossed paths without either of you knowing? And even if he did show, why would that matter to you?

How many times had you cried yourself to sleep in the past month? You forced yourself to stay awake thinking about what your life would be like if you hadn’t met Jimin. You’d probably end up alone—probably forever, still chasing a fantasy where you met the love of your life and lived happily ever after. You couldn’t sleep, because you knew that would never come true. Jimin didn’t know this, but he was able to give you hope. He made you believe you could chase your dreams and he stood there—right by your side, supporting you. How could you ever ask for anything more? How could you let such a supportive and caring man slip through your grasp so carelessly? If only you were a little more assertive or had a lot more faith in yourself, you could’ve told him how much he meant to you and how much you regretted hearing him leave. He was the only person that had ever shown you a single ounce of love, but of course you had to fuck it up. You fucked everything up. Maybe you were cashing in on the karma that you’ve complied over your lifetime. Maybe things will get better. Maybe in another life, you’d find another Jimin. Someone else that would make you feel as happy and wholesome as he did.

But in this life, you felt it was all over for you. You never had any luck in love and this was yet another example as to why you should never fall for someone again. It was a set up for disaster and you were bound to get hurt. So save the tears and hardships and the effort in making yourself feel pretty for someone else and bending your back for them to notice you. You were done with it.

Nonetheless, it was impossible to forget how gentle Jimin touched you—the first person to ever lay their hands on you and he held you like a fragile gem. You can still remember his touch and how it left a fiery trail on your skin. It’s almost impossible to get over the fact that the two of you, were at some point in time, more than friends. Behind those closed curtains and slow, rocking music, the two of you were lovers. You had to apologize in some way. Although you weren’t completely at fault for your separation, you felt ashamed for not being able to tell Jimin your true feelings and if you had... maybe none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have spent three months taking extra shifts at your job just to distract your mind from your problems.

At that moment, interrupting your television show was a knock at the door. It was soft and almost too quiet so you were unsure that you even heard it at all. You wondered if it was your roommate since she wasn’t home, but she had no reason to knock. She lived here, for goodness sake. So who else could it be?

You slowly stepped towards the door with light steps and stood on your toes to peer into the peephole. Your eyes widened upon seeing a head of black hair tucked underneath a grey hoodie. You planted your feet on the ground and pressed your fingertips against the door. What were you going to do? What was he doing here in front of your apartment? Were you ready to face him?

Another knock startled you and the vibrations on the door only made his presence that much more real. How long had it been since he was this close to you? A single piece of wood separated the two of you and if you opened it, you could see him. You could close the distance that had grown so, so far in the past three months.

“Y/N?” Jimin called out from behind the door. You gasped; the familiarity of your name rolling off his tongue reminded of how he whispered your name in your ear while your bodies were pressed together under the sheets. “Damn it, I knew she wasn’t home.” You heard him shift and panic overcame you.

“Wait!” You exclaimed through the door. “Don’t go!”

“Y/N? Is that you?” Jimin voice was louder now, as if he were standing right in front of you. You bumped your forehead against the door and curled your fingers inward.

“Yes, Jimin.”

Jimin’s breath stuttered. You were right behind that door—the courage he mustered hadn’t been in vain and he finally took the first step that would lead him to a better future, hopefully. “I—I’m sorry for showing up so suddenly. Do you have a moment? Can… we talk?”

Silence fell behind the door and he was afraid you had turned and left him speaking to himself. But your soft voice saved him.

“Sure. But the door stays closed.”

“That’s fine, I just wanted to get something off my chest.” Jimin inhaled deeply and ran his hand over the cold, hard wood. “I am… so sorry for everything I did and—and said that night. I was overreacting and scared that… you were going to be taken from me by some dick like Jungkook. But I realized that I was just being selfish and stupid and I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve told you earlier how much I care for you and how much you mean to me—I should’ve never let you cry and remembering that night keeps me up every night because I know everything was my fault and I just—I’m so… so sorry.” Jimin nestled his forehead against the door. His voice was so… weak. Like a cracked glass vase that would shatter any second. It trembled as if he were on the verge of tears.

You bit down on your quivering lip as a small whimper escaped. You had say it now, or your words were never going to see the light of day.

“I-I’m going to be honest with you, since we’re already on the subject.” You said through the door, your hand trembling in fright. “You’re quite immature for someone your age, Park Jimin. I can’t believe you could possibly think that I would do something as heartless as two-timing you, even though we weren’t explicit. How much faith do you have in me? I have never—ever considered any one else beside you!” You reached for the door handle with shaking hands and unlocked the door as you spoke the last words; the fluorescent lights in the hallway blinded you, but you opened it widely. Jimin stood there, frozen as he took in your words. When you opened the door, his wide eyes glistened with the sparkle of tears and darted to you. Your eyes were also lined with tears and you stood in the door way, breathing heavily.

“Hi.” He whispered.

“Hi.” You replied, one hand gripped the door handle tightly. Jimin’s eyes fell to his feet and he shifted from side to side.

“You know, you don’t have any reason to apologize. It was completely my fault.” He said in a serious tone. You shook your head and stepped towards him.

“No. I said some things I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” You said as Jimin raised his head, a small smile formed over his thick lips.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know?” His voice was softer than you’ve ever heard it and he spoke from his heart. He closed the gap and you were reminded of how broad Jimin was. He smelled of soap and the earthiness of rain and interestingly enough, pine. “So, can I take this as forgiveness?” He asked as traced your arm with his fingers. You softened your gaze and your lips stretched into a smile.

“Hmm, I think I need more than a few words.” You hummed. Jimin’s eyebrow rose playfully.

“Oh? Is that how it is?” He cradled your face in his hands and traced your soft cheeks with his thumbs. His eyes darted around your face and took in all of your features. The hair that fell over your eyes, the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks and how they shaped your glittering eyes.

“I know the order is all messed up and this was the first thing that should’ve come out my mouth the minute I started feeling this way,” Jimin ran his thumb over your bitten bottom lip and the imprinted the velvety texture into his brain. He looked deep into your eyes; his hands felt hot and sweaty and his throat threatened to close on him, but he had to get the words out. “Will you go out with me, Y/N?” Jimin asked as his eyebrows furrowed adorably. You inhaled sharply and your nose stung from the urge to cry right then. You nodded eagerly and grabbed his face, pulling him in and kissing him with such passion you almost knocked him backwards. You tasted like vanilla lip balm and your lips were unbelievably soft. He pulled you closer—the taste of your mouth was so intoxicating and addictive, he wanted to taste your lips forever. You gripped Jimin’s grey hoodie and deepened the kiss; you parted Jimin’s mouth and lapped at his tongue. Your breathy moans dripped into Jimin’s mouth and he drowned your sound out.

“I was so—“ he kissed you.

“—afraid—” another kiss.

“Of losing you.” Jimin said in between smooches and moved forward until your back hit the wall. You gasped and Jimin shut your lips with his again. His fingers were tangled in your hair the more intimate the kiss became.

“Jimin, we’re outside.” You moaned the moment you felt his fingers slide underneath your shirt, his touch burned your bare skin. Jimin nibbled on your lip before his hands slithered around your waist. His face fell into the crook of your neck and he stayed in that position, nuzzling his nose into your sweet smelling skin. Your hands found their way to his back and you pulled him closer, breathing in his scent.

“Can we go inside?” He mumbled just centimeters away from your ear, sending shivers through your body. Your grip on his hoodie tightened and you nodded shyly. You slipped your hand into his and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind him. You gathered his hoodie in your hand, balling it together and yanked Jimin down and crashed your lips into his. Jimin slammed his back into the door and grunted into your mouth, but the pain was quickly forgotten as soon as your tongue slipped back into his mouth.

“Mm, fiesty.” He mumbled and you felt his hands slither down the sides of your hips. He moved slowly and you swore he was trying to feel each and every one of your ribs.  He grazed right over the curve of your ass and pressed his finger under your ass, cupping it with his digits. You kissed the side of his mouth and stood on your toes so your nose was hovering over his.

“Let me do everything tonight.”

Jimin’s eyes shot open. “But I—“

“No buts.” You trailed your hand over Jimin’s chest, ghosting your fingertips over his nipple. His chest jumped as he gasped, but he made no action to stop you. “I want all of you.” You said as you dropped to your knees, running your hands over his stomach. His abs weren’t as solid as you remembered and you swore you felt his sternum through his clothes. Had he been eating anything in the last time you’d seen him? It felt like he lost so much weight. Nonetheless, you slid his sweatpants just enough so his semi-hard dick slipped from the waistband. You peeked through your eyelashes at Jimin, his neck strained with a prominent vein raised through his skin and disappeared into his jawline.

You glided your hand over his cock, just grazing the surface with the lightest touch of your fingertips. Jimin sighed shakily and hunched over; his hands were balled into fists against the door.

“Y/N, please…” he moaned and closed his eyes. He traveled back in time to when he was in the bathroom of the party committing such a sinful act and was able to cum just by thinking about you. That was nothing compared to this. It was worlds better; stroking him with the lightest touch enough to drive him insane. But in little to no time, Jimin’s cock was fully erect from your teasing stimulation.

“Missed me much?” You licked a long strip up the underside of his cock. Jimin’s jaw fell.

“Too much, aah.” He sang. You cupped Jimin’s balls and while working your way to the tip, you lapped around his girth with your tongue and tasted the faint saltiness of his cock. You tickled his frenulum with the tip of your tongue and Jimin’s knees shuddered and his hand rose to possibly grab the back of your head, but fell when you enveloped his tip in your warm mouth.

“Fuh-fuck, your mouth is so hot.” He hissed. You hummed, satisfied with the compliment. You wrapped your tongue around his swollen head, the rough texture of the muscle was a new sensation for Jimin. His moans were getting much louder and you thought the neighbors would hear and come complain. Well, then you’d get your revenge for that night Jimin exposed you in front of his friend. That jerk.

You took him deeper down your mouth until he reached the back of your throat. Jimin legs felt weak from the pleasure and he could barely hold himself up without bending his knees. He huffed heavily, chest shaking as he took rapid breaths.

“Ahh, deeper.” He pleaded in a gruff voice. You glanced up and pulled back, focusing your tongue towards the tip. Jimin whimpered and his whines switched on something dark in you, desiring nothing more than to make him fall apart from your touch. “Christ, Y/N, just let me cum.”

Jimin’s thick cock fell from your mouth with a wet pop and you stroked him off with your hand. “Let you cum? But I’m just getting started.” You pouted, lips pursed against his pink head lathered in your saliva. Jimin groaned in frustration and his hips shuddered forward, unable to sustain your teasing.

“I can’t help it—ugh. Your lips are so soft,” he balled his hoodie in his fist as a guttural moan spouted from his parted lips. You wrapped your lips around his cock and sucked him deeper into your mouth. “And your... throat is so ungodly tight.”

You hummed playfully, his cock sliding down your throat. Jimin gasped and squeezed his eyes shut; his length throbbing against your tongue as you swirled it around his thickness. He looked as if he were about to cum any second so you bobbed your head up and down.

“F-Fu—oh god. Just like that, don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.” He moaned as his eyes were closed in concentration to stay afloat or else his body would float away in pleasure.

Just then, breaking Jimin out of his state of bliss were a pair of footsteps that were approaching. Jimin’s hands flew to your head and attempted to push you off of his dick.

“Y/N, there’s someone—“ He stammered, but you ignored him, his desperation only made you move faster and sucked harder. “Fuck, fuck! Y/N, stop, I’m gonna—“ Jimin wasn’t able to finish his sentence before you bottomed out, your chin rest against his twitching balls and his cock shoved down your throat as you gulped down his hot cum. Jimin jerked you forward, pushing your face into his stomach as his entire body doubled over in pleasure. He didn’t utter a sound and you heard the footsteps stop in front of the apartment across the hall; the door opening and promptly shutting in a span of seconds. You waited obediently for Jimin’s dick to soften before slowly releasing your restrains around him, lips still wrapped tightly to collect all of your saliva and his cum. You leaned back and swallowed, wiping the sides of your mouth and chin for excess juices and sucked your fingers clean.

“Demon.” Jimin panted, hair matted to his sweaty forehead and his eyes darkened with lust.

“Am not.” You said with a pout. Jimin yanked you upward by your bicep and you let out a surprised yelp. Your body slammed against him and Jimin latched his lips onto your collar and sucked hard. You let out a high-pitched moan and melted under his touch. That is, until you felt his teeth sink in and pain quickly overcame the pleasure.

“Ow!” You winced. Jimin licked at his teeth indentations that surrounded the blotchy red mark like a crown. “Who’s the demon again?” You scrunch your nose, making Jimin laugh coldly.

“Oh, I am going to mess you up.” He purred and whipped you around so you were now pressed against the door. Jimin’s lips were on yours in an instant and his hands were just as quick to reach under your drenched panties. His fingers moved nimbly as he rubbed small circles over your clit. A shudder ran up your spine and you jerked forward to meet his hands. However, Jimin was just as devilish and petty as you were and pulled his fingers away as soon as he saw you were feeling the slightest pleasure. You whined.

“Don’t you dare cry, not after what you did to me.” His voice was husky against your ear. Jimin yanked your panties down and you finished it off by slipping your legs through and kicking them aside. He gripped your right thigh and raised it, exposing your sex and lined his cock against your entrance.

“Let me hear you say it.” He said, leaving your neck with wet kisses. He rubbed his cock, already hard and raring to go, against your slit and lining it with your juices. You felt him prodding against your hole and it took so much willpower not to lower yourself onto his cock and have him slide all the way in. Your mouth watered at the thought.

“Jimin, fuck me, please. I’ve been waiting for this for too long, I think I’m going to go crazy.” You pleaded desperately. Without another word of argument, Jimin slid his cock in. The stretch was so amazing and fulfilling your toes curled as he pushed deeper. His raw cock scraped your walls intimately and his rod radiated heat, sending your mind into a frenzy. Your walls were so tight and constructed around him so tightly, enveloping his entire length in a hot vice. He buried his face into your neck and you let out a loud and spirited moan.

“Oh god, please move. You feel so good.” You cried. Jimin’s fingers dug into your thigh and began thrusting fervently right away. Given your position, Jimin was able to reach deep inside of you with each thrust and slammed into your sweet spot. You moaned every time you felt him poke at the entrance of your uterus but his vigor and roughness was all the more sexy and visually captivating to watch as sweat dribbled down the side of his face while his hips moved wildly.

“So tight, ‘s like you’re sucking me in.” He grunted. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. Jimin hips moved faster and his hips slammed into you, the squelching sound of your pussy coincided and melded with your moans that drowned into Jimin’s mouth. It had been so long since you had his cock and it felt so good, so electrifyingly good you couldn’t keep hold of your mind as it floated off into a plane of bliss.

His hips snapped into you rapidly and your juices were smearing all over your inner thighs and Jimin’s hips, making your stick to Jimin’s skin. He licked along your neck, savoring the saltiness of your sweat and ground his hips into you, the soft hairs along his naval tickled your clit, but he was so deep inside of you your body was too frozen from the rapture of Jimin’s raw cock inside of you to care about anything else besides him.

You tangled your hands in Jimin’s hair and moaned into his mouth as you tightened around him. You weren’t able to give him a word of precaution before you body twitched and climaxed with his cock still thrusting inside of you; your eyes rolling back from the intensity of your orgasm. Jimin felt how your walls squeeze around him and he slowed his movements, allowing you to ride out your orgasm to the fullest. And even though he had just cum a while ago, the urge was back in no time and heat swirled in his lower region.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” He grunted, bucking his hips into you. You hovered over his lips.

“Cum for me. I want all of you.” You said and watched Jimin’s melt from your words. He lifted your other leg up and slammed deep into you, only able to put in a few more thrust before you felt his hot cum paint your walls. He kissed you while he drained himself in you and you gladly took all of him, holding him close to you. He slipped his cock out, slowly pulling away from your tight walls and as soon as it was out, a stream of white spunk dripped out of your hole and pooled at the floor. You slowly lowered your trembling legs to the ground and cupped your sex so the mess wouldn’t increase.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” He panted and watched you slide your finger through your slit, coating it in his cum which was oddly arousing.

“I can’t believe you just did that.” Your shoulders shook from your light-hearted laugh. Jimin managed a smile and picked his sweats from the ground and slipped into them.

“Should I go get...” he started and let his sentence trail off upon seeing you lick his cum off your fingers in a kittenish manner. You glanced at him, a hint of seduction behind your gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just never get tired of seeing you do that. It’s so hot.” He ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief. You lined your lips with your tongue when you were done. You picked your crumpled panties from off the ground, straightened them out and shimmied into them, adjusting the area around your butt.

“You should get going. My roommate will be home any minute and I still have to remove all the evidence of us having sex from here.” You smiled softly.

“Damn, I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“No?”

“Not at all. I was thinking about you and before I knew it, my feet brought me here.”

“You ran here?” You sounded uneasy. Jimin stepped forward so he was facing you, just inches away. His mouth twisted into a silly smile and he bonked the space between your eyebrows with his knuckle, knocking you back.

“It was a joke, silly.” His squeaky giggle lifted your soul and you couldn’t help but grin. Jimin stroked your hair, sweeping it away from your eyes. He looked at you with such endearment and a longing gaze as he held your cheek in his palm gently. His eyes fell to your lips, then back at your eyes. “Thank you for listening. I’ll let you sleep now.” He leaned in and pecked your lips.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

“Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

-

Taehyung and Jungkook had woken up late the next day due to their partying the night before. They stumbled out of their rooms with droopy faces and aching headaches and huddled in the kitchen like zombies to fix themselves a quick breakfast. Jungkook poured himself a bowl of Frosted Flakes while Taehyung opted for a package of untoasted strawberry-flavored Pop-Tarts.

“You have fun last night?” Taehyung asked mid-bite in his groggy, morning voice. He was leaning back in one of the chairs in the kitchen while Jungkook stood with his feet spread. Jungkook was too busy munching on his cereal to answer him right away, but he gave a short nod; his brown fringe brushing over his tired eyes.

“Like always.” He said and smirked. Taehyung snorted and the two tapped fists. Just then, Jimin burst out of his room full dressed in a sky blue tee and ripped denim jeans. He sported a slightly darker blue baseball cap over his hair—which didn’t look like a tumbleweed for once—and was rummaging around the living room, throwing couch cushions and throw pillows over his shoulder. He whipped around to his two roommates.

“Have either of you seen my keys?” He panted. Jungkook shrugged absentmindedly, not even raising his eyes from his bowl of cereal.

“Have you checked your pockets?” Taehyung asked as Jimin patted his legs down to no luck. “Maybe they’re in your room?”

Jimin fled to his room and both Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged a confused look before Jimin walked back out of his room with his keys dangling from his fingers.

“Where were they? I bet they were in your pocket, huh?” Taehyung chortled and tossed a piece of Pop-Tart into the air and catching it in his mouth. Jimin slipped the keys into his pocket and fixed his hat over his head.

“No, it was in my jacket. I guess I must’ve left it there last night.” He replied. Jungkook glanced up from bowl of cereal and his gaze sharpened at Jimin.

“Last night? Where were you last night?”

Jimin raised his eyes and noticed Jungkook’s narrow eyes. “I… went to the party.”

Taehyung’s expression lit up. “You did?! I’m so proud of you, dude!” He exclaimed brightly. Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek and quirked an eyebrow.

“I see.” Jungkook said under his breath. A part of Jungkook was glad that Jimin had finally gotten out of the house after being holed up in his room for the longest time, but Jungkook couldn’t help but feel bitter thinking back to last night before you left. It felt like, no matter how hard he tried, he would never appear as attractive or heroic as Jimin did in your eyes. It wasn’t that Jungkook wasn’t glad that Jimin was so happy, but seeing his spirits so lifted was a clear sign that something happened last night. That fact alone ticked Jungkook off.

“That’s great man, but why didn’t I see you? Why didn’t you tell us?” Taehyung asked curiously.

“Well, I didn’t stay for a long time anyway. I just stopped by and… had a drink.” Jimin said and raised his arm to check his watch. “Shit, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you guys later!” Jimin waved to his roommates before heading out the front door and slamming it shut behind him.

“Look at him, something good must’ve happened. Do you think he and Y/N made up?” Taehyung sat back with a smile on his face. Jungkook finished off his bowl and set it in the sink.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?”he muttered under his breath while brushing past Taehyung, a sour expression plastered on his face.

Jimin jumped into his car and wrestled with his keys to start his engine. After everything you said last night, the first Jimin wanted to do drive over to your apartment and see you again, to kiss you and hold you in his arms tighter so you wouldn’t slip through his careless fingers. He couldn’t forget the kiss last night and he touched his lips to remind himself of your kiss that sparked like fireworks. He could only think of what would happen if he hadn’t gone to see you last night. How long would it have taken him to muster up the courage and talk to you? How lucky had he been to have his words come across and resonate with you? He feared what would happen if things had taken a wrong turn. You could’ve cursed him out—chased him away from your door and never to be heard from again.

But now Jimin had to prove to himself to be a better man, someone that would cherish you and never make you feel the slightest insecure again. You told him over and over again how you had never been in love before and that it was all a faraway fantasy that happened in movies and broadway shows. True love wasn’t real in your opinion, but it was Jimin’s sole purpose now to prove that wrong. Although he wasn’t any different from you; he had never been in love nor did he believe he could fall for someone this hard, but in the short time that he knew you, you only showed him the better things in life. You changed him. You pulled him straight out of his boring and bare lifestyle, seeing the same views—the same people dancing hypnotically to the same music. It was like being surrounded by sheep that only knew what they’ve been exposed to. It began to feel so repetitive and Jimin woke up some days wondering if going to school was going to change anything because those days too felt as unchanging as the rest. That is, until you appeared and changed everything.

Would he be able to make you as happy as you made him?

-

You dragged your heavy feet all the way from the parking lot of your complex and were surprised to even make it to the elevator which gave you about a 20-second grace period where you could rest your feet. Although you loved your job and wouldn’t change it for anything else in the world (besides a six-figure paying job, but when would an opportunity like that come around?), but you were starting to wonder if these extra long shifts were worth the calluses that formed on your heels after being on your feet for hours on end. At this point, you were yearning for the end of the day where you could relax in a hot bath with a glass of wine to melt your stress away.

You swung the door to your apartment open and instantly slung your heels to the wall, sighing in relief. Your roommate, Ji Soo, poked her head from the kitchen at the sound of the door opening; her hair was done up in a messy bun and she wore an oversized men’s t-shirt.

“Someone’s had a hard day at work.” She pointed out, a small pint of cookie dough ice cream in her hand. She spooned some into her mouth as used her eyes to gesture to the table. “Someone also has a secret admirer.” She giggled.

You looked to the coffee table and was slowly captivated by the crown of ruby foliage that decorated your table, casting a red glow around the room. You walked to the table with hypnotized steps and picked up the heavy bouquet, turning it side to side to capture more of the roses’ essence.

“Who…” you began, your vocabulary was empty upon casting your eyes on the flowers. Your hand touched something on the back of the bouquet and you pulled it out, revealing a piece of card stock lined with gold foil. On the back was engraved in the same gold foil:

I never stop thinking about you

The fancy, gold embroidery didn’t take away from the message that was written and how deeply it struck you. You traced over each word with your finger and soon a goofy, love-struck smile curled at the corners of your lips.

“Who is it from?” Ji Soo asked and rest her bottom on the corner of the kitchen table. You pressed your lips together to contain your smile.

“My secret admirer.” You said slyly.

You kept the bouquet of roses on your desk where the light from the moon cast a white glow on the petals. You could stare at them forever and never get tired of them. You knew they would eventually wither and dry into brittle pieces, but until then you kept them on display.

[11:39 PM] you: the flowers are beautiful [11:39 PM] you: thank you

[11:40 PM] Jimin: I have no idea what you’re talking about

For a second, you thought your assumptions about your secret admirer were wrong, until Jimin sent another text.

[11:40 PM] Jimin: kidding [11:40 PM] Jimin: I know you love roses

[11:41 PM] you: you seem to know a lot about me

[11:41 PM] Jimin: you aren’t exactly the most discreet [11:41 PM] Jimin: but thats not exactly a bad thing [11:42 PM] Jimin: I can learn a lot from you

Was Jimin finally willing to open up about himself? The one thing you wanted the most was to know the real Jimin and maybe, just maybe it was possible.

[11:43 PM] you: I don’t have anything to teach you

[11:44 PM] Jimin: or so you think [11:44 PM] Jimin: when can I see you again

You blushed thinking to your intense makeup session with Jimin right outside of your door and you too couldn’t wait to kiss him again. You imagined his intense kisses that he left on your body and how tenderly he touched you, like a fragile doll that he was afraid of breaking again. It was a shame that he had to leave during the night because it wouldn’t be so bad to wake up next to him.

[11:45 PM] you: this weekend [11:45 PM] you: lets have dinner

You wanted to see him as soon as possible and what could be better than a dinner date? Yeah, sure, it was a cliche among all cliches, but this was what you wanted to do. You were the ruler of your own world and from now on, you were going to play your cards right.

[11:46 PM] Jimin: a dinner huh? [11:46 PM] Jimin: sounds great [11:46 PM] Jimin: will you let me plan this one out? I want to show you a good time

[11:47 PM] you: well if you insist then I won’t argue

[11:47 PM] Jimin: then its a date

A date. Finally, a real fucking date. One with someone you actually cared for and harbored true feelings for. How different would it be? How were you supposed to act now that you were in a relationship and how long could you maintain it before your karma got the worst of you and snatched your happiness from you right when you got it.

[11:50 PM] Jimin: I’ll let you sleep princess [11:50 PM] Jimin: I love you

You flung your phone across the room and it smacked against the wall. You flipped over on your bed, grabbbing your pillow and stuffed your face in it and screamed. Your legs flailed around the bed and kicked up your blanket, messing up the sheets as well. You only stopped when your throat felt like it had been abused with sandpaper and you raised your head to breathe. The first time. It was the first time you had heard those words said to you in a romantic expression and Jimin had yet again taken one of your firsts from you.

You crawled off the bed and grabbed your phone, replying with ‘I love you too, goodnight’ before jumping back on your bed and rolling around, holding your phone to your chest. This was all so new to you; these tingling feelings that burst in your chest like firecrackers and made you feel light-headed with bliss. Was your heart able to handle Jimin if he was going to say such things so spontaneously?

It wasn’t hard for Jimin to come up with his date plans. He spent the last three months thinking about stuff like this and it was only a matter of choosing which one he wanted to do first. There were many to choose from: an aquarium date, a stroll in the park, or maybe he’d take you the carnival and drag you on the Mega Drop like he’d been wanting for the longest time. There were so many possibilities and he was positive he’d get to all of them, but there was only one place that he had in mind.

Jimin sent you flowers every day for the entire week leading up to your first date with him and each bouquet had its own message. You collected the cards and kept them safe in your drawer, with a red ribbon tied around the growing stack of gold embellished cards. Every night you would pull them out and read them over to yourself like a young maiden in love because technically that’s what you were. Although, as the number of flowers increased, the places to display them decreased drastically and soon your room had turned into a greenhouse of assorted flowers, blending to recreate a fresh, Spring-like scent through the apartment.

Finally, the awaited day had come. Jimin didn’t speak a word of his plans or where he was taking you. He simply told you to be ready at eight, so by law, you had to begin getting ready four hours ahead of time. You had already chosen your outfit, a pale pink summer dress that hugged your waist snuggly with a ribbon tied at the back. You accessorized with a long gold necklace that hung low as well as a matching bracelet. The shoes were perhaps the hardest to pick out as you had to decide between a neutral beige or a darker pink, both of which looked amazing with your outfit. You consulted Ji Soo and she said, and you quoted, that “the beige is sexy.” Going from that, of course you had to choose the beige.

You painted your face beautifully with makeup and even topped off your look with lip gloss, which Ji Soo complimented as well. You sat at the edge of your bed half an hour before Jimin was supposed to come pick you up and Ji Soo poked her head in to check on you.

“You look like a doll, I still can’t get over how cute you look!” She squealed and rest her cheek against door frame, admiring the way you sat on the bed in such a delicate manner with your knees poised.

“I feel like my face is going to melt off. I’ll probably come back looking like a hot mess.” You laughed and raised a compact mirror to fix your hair. Ji Soo eyes softened, like a mother sending her daughter off to a dance. You were her roommate for the majority of college and she couldn’t ask for a more lovely friend. Despite not being in a relationship and having no experience in that field whatsoever, you gave her the best love advice. And now she couldn’t be more proud to see you beaming and radiation happiness.

“I hope you have fun tonight.” Ji Soo winked before receding back to her room and you waited for Jimin’s call.

Meanwhile, Jimin had also spent his morning and for fact of the matter, the entire week preparing tonight’s event. More specifically, he stayed up late last night and made a complete mess in the kitchen. Everything had to be perfect and he wouldn’t accept anything less. Jimin had about seven outfits planned out in his head, but as soon as he tried them on none of them felt right. He switched up the outfits, mixing and matching garments together until he finally decided on a large black and white plaid flannel. He tucked the front flaps into his black jeans with a leather belt holding them in place. He fled his apartment in a flash and hopped into his car. Jimin took one glance at the backseat to double check if everything was in place, and with that assurance, he was on his way to see you, singing along and drumming his hands on the steering wheel to 88rising’s Peach Jam.

It happened in an instant. A streak of bright white light blinded Jimin and he ducked his head, slamming his foot on the breaks. His body lurched forward from the force, his seatbelt snapped on his chest and the next thing he knew, the windows had crashed and shattered around him while his body was being hurled around wildly in his seat. Shards of glass pierced his skin and Jimin must’ve slammed his head against the steering wheel and dashboard a dozen times before everything went still. His eyes struggled to stay open and he could hear the faint cars from the Main street driving by. Jimin fought to stay conscious, but his vision was wavering, blurring the starts in the sky and making them appear as bright city lights. His conscious was fleeting and Jimin shut his eyes, eventually gave into the serene monotonous ring in the back of his mind.

And you waited.