#Perhaps My Ratings Would Have Been Higher (Musings)

[riewritten]

𝐎𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 · CHAPTER FOUR · AO3

˚ · .─ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: YOU, a college student in Frankfurt, start receiving emails that embarked the dim of normalcy you worked so hard to build on your own; starting from a message claiming you as the light amidst the hell of Kinderheim, who came just in time to bring a paradise of doomsday and grime, something that pleased the monster inside him. Initially, you thought of reporting the email as spam until another ding came: the monster, so pleased and full, is aiming to return the favor—something to flesh out the paradise you had granted him back at Kinderheim.

˚ · .─ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎: JOHAN/Fem!reader | 5.8k words

˚ · .─ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit language, canon-typical violence, stalking, manipulation, obsessive tendencies, paranoia, abduction, threats of sexual assault, among many things that might arise.

SYNOPSIS: The next events that transpired in your subconscious after that dinner were neither a hyperbole of your repressed childhood grievances nor a personification of your deeply rooted fears. It is an actual recollection, a flashback surging almost all at once, once forgotten but surfaced by a trigger you are to unveil at this very moment.

Grimmer had kept your father alive in his thoughts; too alive, perhaps, that he’s acting the same way your father would had he been made aware of your position as of the moment. 

And just like your father did, Johan piqued his curiosity as well, almost the same way even. The only stark difference is that your father was fascinated with Johan as a tool; Grimmer, on the other hand, deems him in utter pity.

And fear.

Grimmer is running, sweat dripping from his head, to his polo, and to the edges of his sleeve. Panting and panting, reaching his hand for someone who could help you the way you deserve. Oh, you poor, poor girl, Grimmer whispers to himself as he runs while clutching the letter you've given him dear in his hands. His musings are cut off when he sees Tenma, the very person he could ask for help. He met Tenma in Prague, and with numerous talks he came to know that Tenma has a similar agenda in mind: Kinderheim 511. Albeit, with different people to find. Grimmer told him of his upbringing, about your father, and it doesn't take long for Tenma to immediately rearrange his priorities. Because apparently, this cowardly bastard of a father who led such a young boy into burning Kinderheim, had left a daughter behind.

—that very daughter being the perilous boy's dearest friend. It doesn’t take much for them to finally conclude; you are in danger.

“I'm so sorry, I was too late. Lunge and I weren't able to get her.” Grimmer hands over the letter you had delivered via mail.

Tenma takes his time reading it, slowly but surely his hold on the thin paper tightens ‘til it almost crumples.  

“We have to find her. We could still find her.” He frantically flips the paper to see the letter's delivery date. “Yesterday, huh? Then that means she's still not far away from here, right?! We should go to the post office and—” It is not until the two realize they're still in public, a sidewalk no less, that they halt from talking further.

They let the grim silence pave the way for now, at least until they could have a private space with Inspector Lunge. While waiting for their turn to pass the road, Grimmer and Tenma overhear a couple of old people talking.

“News has it that Germany has been announced to be undergoing an economic crisis.”

“And the rampant cases of money laundering still aren't solved,” the other man huffs his cigarette. “Oh man, the future restaurant I've been planning through all my retirement money is now hopeless. How can an old man like me find a job? My youngest child is still in college, for god's sake.”

“My wife's sick. Almost every hospital we went to had their rates higher than before. At this point we might as well consider her dead.”

The latter pats his back and sighs, “I'm so sorry about that, pal.”

Not long after, the old man whose wife is sick starts crying. His sobs are in sync with the pedestrian stop light turning green. The two old men cross the pedestrian holding onto each other, with Grimmer and Tenma silently watching upon them.

It doesn't take long for Tenma to start again, “Many believed that this is because of the attempted assassination of Hans Schuwald, the infamous ‘Vampire of Bayern’ known to be holding the European economy under his fingers.”

“Ah, is that so?” Grimmer chuckles, “I'm sorry, I didn't know much about it. You brought me here not long ago.”

“Exactly, the attempted assassination happened half a year ago, and the money laundering schemes have been ongoing for five years or so. It's not surprising that Germany is like this right now, whether Schuwald's assassination took place or not.”

“The assassination attempt, was the perpetrator caught?”

“No,” Tenma grimly replies, “but I know exactly who had done it.”

With Tenma's face, it doesn't take Grimmer's astuteness to figure out the answer. “Are you saying it's Johan as well…?” Tenma could only nod. “But he's so young! What're you saying next, that Johan is the person behind the large-scale money laundering scheme as well? Come on!”

“You've been having doubts until now, aren't you?” Tenma’s brows furrowed. “I told you, the only way to ensure the safety of this girl is by not having mercy on the monster who endangers her!”

Grimmer seems to be surprised himself. Was that him speaking earlier, or was it a projection of your father's emotions? “I was just asking, Tenma.”

“I know because I was there! At Schuwald's assassination attempt!” he snaps. 

Grimmer is surprised to see the usually stoic doctor like that. “I was holding my sniper, trembling but nonetheless readying myself to shoot, and Johan looked up at me with a smirk as if I was exactly in the place he wanted me to be! Only then did I realize that I am once again getting cornered to take the blame of killing Schuwald, if I weren't successful in saving him from that mess!”

Grimmer's rationale snaps back with Tenma's remark. A while ago it was too clouded and riddled by both worry in your situation and pity over the tragic predicament subjected upon you and Johan—basically what your father would've felt had he been the one hearing this. At least Tenma's voice woke him up; your father is finally not too alive in his thoughts anymore. The abomination Tenma is talking about is none but Kinderheim 511's pride. Their subjects, although generally programmed to be perfect soldiers, have their own characterization—a role if one might say—that if collated together, would fit the archetype of a great army. And now, Grimmer is slowly realizing that Johan was specifically crafted to be the commander, the leader. It doesn't make it better that Kinderheim is the very place that taught him to do so. 

“And do you want to know more about how dangerous Johan could be? Even to those people he would've been connected with emotionally?” 

Grimmer wants Tenma to expound, but at the same time his own worry for your situation stops him in cold sweat.

The urge to interrupt this blonde agent before he’s even done talking is as overwhelming as your memories. Indeed, he had excused himself last night quite coldly… but he had also suddenly showed up, unannounced, at 5:00 am. It was him you had last seen yesterday, and it's him to interrupt the vivid dream. As disoriented as you are, you're clearly not in the mood to accommodate an unexpected visitor.

You want to see Anna. You genuinely need to see Anna. 

How nice it'd feel to have her gentle hands brushing your hair; the lovely croons of her voice as she lures you to sleep; going to school together and meeting halfway at dismissal; stopping by at some market for groceries or perhaps drinking coffee together; the domestic bliss of her preparing your breakfast and you washing the dishes; everything.

Oh dear god, if he’s even listening, how you badly wish to see Anna again. 

When was the last time you even prayed this hard?

“Dear god, if I grow as big as Daddy and his workmates, would I finally be of use? Would I finally be able to help my dearest Johan?” Your prayers day and night were particularly stronger this moment with Johan clinging for dear life.

“T-thats why… I am always so scared whenever y-you come here…”

Tears blurred your vision further, “Is it because you're scared the monster would take me away?” Johan's tiny face flinched as though he felt the terror in that hypothetical setting, “Flower fields suit you more…”

“No, I don’t! I am a bad useless girl who couldn't even help you! Bad girls don't deserve a good life!”

“Y-you have to get away from here,” your little friend, for the first time in your sight, begged and called your name, “run away and never look back… Don't let the monster get you…”

“I will never leave you alone. You and the person you mustn't forget are still yet to meet, no? And I have to stay here so you won't forget her, right?!” Johan still wasn't coming back to you, so you tried uttering more—perhaps futile and ideal—reasons to stay. “T-then we will defeat the monsters! And I’ll stay beside you even after you reunite with the one you mustn't forget!”

“That… doesn't matter…” This time, Johan's face hollowed. “It wouldn't matter anyway… These monsters are making me forget Anna… and if you go, they will make me forget you too…” the thought of it drained the blood in your face. “But then again, you see… wouldn't that be nice? Nothing else would matter by then. The weight of your existence would no more burden me. The weight of Anna's existence wouldn't matter anymore. After all, death is the only constant thing… it's way more powerful than memories… than loved ones… than flowers when prairies get burnt by fires…”

“Still here, pretty?”

The nickname the agent suddenly drops is so off-putting you're immediately cut off your musings. Perhaps you're flustered—irked, rather—because much to your uncomfortability, this blonde agent has been more interactive and pressing after the events last night—it's as though he suddenly wants to be close with you. In such instances, you could even mistake his voice as Anna's, but instead of being endeared it just repulses you. And speaking of Anna, did she know of your identity this whole time? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? The person your childhood friend Johan mustn't forget was named Anna!

“Were you able to catch on what I was saying? Would you mind repeating it for me?” 

Perhaps the off-putting nickname served its purpose, though. Your irk subsides and you end up averting your gaze away in guilt, “S-sorry. I was spacing out.”

“Why so?”

“Can't you just continue?”

“Maybe after you tell me why you were spacing out?” the blonde agent quips. “It is my job to ensure the welfare of my clients.”

“Which you haven't done before, and I honestly prefer that. Didn't you tell me we should be wary of being close to each other?”

The agent seems unfazed with you addressing the elephant in the room. His gaze is filled with mirth, even. “Were you not the one who broke the rule first?” He stands up from his chair, walks towards you, and then crouches down until his face is of the same level as yours. His smile is as serene as ever, but a tinge of it bothered you. “When you asked me to eat dinner with you last night, wasn't that crossing a boundary we had established when we first met?”

“But you agreed so. The usual agent I know would decline to safely keep that boundary. You sound like I'm the only one at fault here.”

His smile widens quite a bit, “Do you feel like I'm blaming you?”

“Yes.”

No, you don't feel like he's blaming you; his knowing smile made you realize he's aware of it, too. It was rather you being guilty of showing him that specific vulnerability. You struggle keeping eye contact with him, yet you persist nonetheless—or so you try.

“My apologies, then. It's just that your case started piquing my interest last night,” he replies, albeit in defeat, after being silent for a while.

“I said something while sleeping, didn't I?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

Oh god. What a headache. “Can we pretend last night never happened?”

“Would that include our deal?”

“Deal…?” 

“I’ll tell you my name if you manage to finish the last step today, no?” you could almost see him pout—so unlikely of his character—until you realize that it's just him being sarcastic. “Has your curiosity subsided that quickly? How unfortunate. It made me quite happy.”

The sarcasm was successful in flustering you. Nonetheless you remain composed, “Why?”

“Because my client is interested in me the same way I am with her.” 

You are silenced, then. Unable to hold it further. Eyes all over the place except his face. What a shift in the mood. As much as you're trying to keep the deal of not exceeding boundaries and shoo this visitor away, your mind is seeking comfort from someone, desperately so. Neither Anna nor Frieda's here and the only person you're with as of late is this agent. The longer it takes, the more you get fidgety at the thought of not knowing more about him. How despicable, you thought to yourself. When you say you need comfort, what exactly do you need? A fleeting crush? A physical intimacy of some sort that could fool you into thinking you're not really alone? Or do you just want to have one constant in your fleeting existence? Would a dependent, toxic attachment—projected by the desire to detach coinciding with your desperation to stay—help you? And now, tragically so, with your memories flashing intrusively, you could finally—hold on, wait.

This particular agent, one way or another, must be related to Anna. What other reason must be there for having almost identical faces?

Oh no.

“Johan! Stay with me, Johan!” you cried loudly, raw, in utter pain not for you but for the person you hold dearest. Your small stature was holding his limping one in your arms. Suddenly the room these damned-in-the-head Kinderheim supervisors put you two seemed wider—an abyss, if one might say. The large mirror, which they said they would be watching you two, swirled in your vision alongside your tears.

“Whenever you come here, I—” he cut himself off with a shaggy exhale, “—I always get scared whenever you come here.” he weakly whispered. Why? You couldn't even ask it out loud. Was the feeling not mutual? Did he actually disdain you?

“B-because… so many monsters lurk around, and—hah—”

“Monsters?” 

He nodded, then his eyes strayed away from you. It went somewhere—someplace beyond the confines of this terrifying room, a place no one but him could see. “My other half was taken by a monster… the monster brought her to the west. W-we managed to escape… but the monster…” he shuddered as if this is the first time he had registered how scary it all was—much that it confused you because he sounded like it happened long, long ago, “...the monster found us again. They separated us again. They brought me to the East.”

And your fickle little mind didn't understand any of it. You realized you couldn't actually do anything about it. This is something adults could manage. One thing about sessions with Daddy's workmates is the reiteration of how useless you are because you're a kid, of how utterly futile it is to be hopeful in this huge, huge world because you are nothing but a speck of dust—a stupid one at that—because you have nothing but your tiny, little, naivety.

Oh no.

“I—uh… I wouldn't be able to accomplish it today. Forget the deal we had last night. W-we could pretend it never happened,” you feign exhaustion, trying your hardest not to stammer and collapse in front of him. You are realizing a lot of things all at once. “Sorry for crossing the boundaries we have talked about. Let me make up for it.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“I wouldn't suggest it otherwise.”

“You see, people often say the opposite of what they want.”

“What do you mean by that—” you almost called him Johan again. You reluctantly add after gulping, “—sir?”

“You're having doubts about your plan, aren't you?”

You raise your senses up, adrenaline surging deep within as if you're suddenly in danger. “N-no! I told you I was just procrastinating—”

“You just realized the name Johan isn't something you disdain.”

“What does that have to do with this?!”

“It does a lot, you see,” the agent adds. “You say you want to run away from the monster and yet you're talking about how badly you want to be with him in your sleep.”

“I—” the color in your lips dry cold, “I said that?”

“Indeed,” the agent nods as he steps closer; you stand up from your chair and step back, “while I was ushering you to the couch, you said something to that effect.”

At this point, you try to utter anything—anything that would stop you from breaking down and crying, “A-and you know about it? You know something about Johan?”

The question answered itself upon realizing; seeing the younger version of Anna in your dreams, her male version at that, wasn't because she was the amalgamation of comfort and softness amidst all these terror happening inside your head. You've always been so intrigued—no, you were not intrigued, you were just trying to put it that way. You've always felt something uncanny was up with Anna, let alone with this agent; you just deliberately ignored it thinking they mean well not only because Anna is someone you favored immediately, but also because you never trusted yourself. All this time, the lessons Daddy and his workmates are grilled in your head even if you're still yet to remember them.

Your eyes widened, hands started to tremble, and eventually the terror got too bad you couldn't even support Johan's little weight anymore. Still, Johan had something left to say. “But, before I die… could y-you—could you please—” the fresh injection wound on his forearm throbbed in pain, and thus he hissed first before continuing, “—please call me by my name.”

“Johan,” you cried. “Your name is Johan!”

“My name…” your little friend's eyes were now hollow, as if he's reliving a memory only he knew. You weren’t even sure if he could still see you, let alone if he knew where he was, and if you could even bring him back. “Call me by my name.” You did what you could, then—the measly, trivial, nonsensical things you could. “Johan.”

“My name—”

“Johan!”

“J-Johan…?”

You feel his hands, soft as ever, cup your cheeks and softly says, “Oh dear… look at that face.” You slowly turn your gaze to his eyes and it is, indeed, the last needed confirmation. 

Hollow. Empty. In a place only he could see. 

“Seems like you finally remember me now, huh?”

Two days before Johan had shown you the fireworks up close;

Daddy saw you crying in your room after dinner while hugging the storybook Johan had liked the most—the one with a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover. Aside from the grief, your mind was also occupied with the horrific flashbacks of your best friend full of freshly inflicted injection shots, utterly lethargic, unusually talkative, and debilitated with sorrow for the first time since you two had met each other. That night, Daddy cradled you to sleep; he reminded you of the things you could do for your dearest friend which includes his proposition: help Johan show you the fireworks up close. Daddy said it was Johan's utmost wish.

You didn't even know if it was true, but with your grief-riddled mind and desperation to be with Johan again and give him the things he truly deserves, you agreed.

“I went to Kinderheim today. Would you like to know what happened after Johan and you were separated?”

“What did he say? Please! Please tell me!”

“He begged them. He begged them to not let him forget Anna. Then, he begged to see you after. Even if he were to die, he would like to see you again.”

Oh, how it filled you with bittersweet warmth. Johan just said that it wouldn't matter anymore. He sounded so defeated, so tired, so ready and willing to die, and yet he still managed to beg them thereafter. At the same time, you were filled with anger with the monsters in Kinderheim, with the monsters who took him away from the one he mustn't forget. You vehemently hoped Johan could be strong enough at least until you see each other again. And maybe, just maybe, you two would be able to defeat the monster tormenting him along the way.

More than that, you felt Daddy to be a bit more likable than usual. Was it because he pitied his useless little child? It felt foreign but nonetheless warm. You wondered why your father had never introduced you to such pleasant feelings.

Nevermind, not like you have the capacity to think about it anyway. The important thing is not only did you finally know the name of the person Johan mustn't forget (Anna is such a wonderful name!) but you also are part of his wishes. How warm. How utterly warm it is to be loved. Daddy tucked you in bed and, instead of coldly leaving you as per usual, he read you the storybook you were clinging to for dear life—the one with a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover.

When you wake up, your hands are tied together on your back. You're seated on the floor, legs sore, and have nowhere else to lean on besides the cold white wall.

The last thing you remembered was Johan's remark, ‘Oh look at that face. Seems like you finally remember me now,’ then, you fainted at the overwhelming dread. A buff man squats down to your level and reaches his hand for a shake. He introduces himself as Roberto. A man behind him, however, heaves a laugh, “You bastard. How could she shake your hand when you tied her up like that!” 

Roberto chuckles while scratching his head. “My bad, my bad. I’m jus’ joking, jus’ tryin' to lighten up the room.”

Another man squats to your level, “How about you? What's your name?” You keep your head down the floor, ignoring the rapid heartbeat ringing in your ears out of trepidation. You've got the urge to spit at them out of spite, but they're holding guns. There are approximately six men inside this room that could overpower you if need be. 

Due to your lack of an answer, the man then tries to touch your cheek only for Roberto to slap it away. “He said you're not allowed to do that, boy.”

“But doesn't it thrill you more to touch a girl when it's forbidden? Look at how pliant she is. Look at her gaze down like that. She surely knows her place, no?”

“Ah,” Roberto let out an exasperated sigh then stood up, a silent ‘what happens next ain't my business now.’ implied. Indeed, Johan sounded serious with that command but not that Roberto cares much about you to strictly implement that. “I warned you.”

The stranger holds onto your chin to tilt your head up. “Oh, isn't she a pliant lass?” but his smile is immediately replaced with a frown upon seeing you glare. “Come on, how about a smile on those pretty lips of yer’s—”

You spit on his face. The last thing expected of a ‘pliant girl.’ The man avenged his dirtied cheek out of impulse by slapping you hard; you fell to the floor.

Roberto shakes his head, looks at his watch, and nonchalantly walks away. He's got more important things to do than guarding some trivial girl so early in the morning. His fleeting irk, however, lies at Johan's reaction once he sees the bruise on your cheek due to these men who don't know any better. 

Your mind, hazy with the slap, is further blanked out after a series of punches. They said something along the lines of ‘feisty bitch,’ ‘presenting yourself meek when you're no different from whores covered with spit’ and other insults that could make even a grown man cry. And yet you couldn't mind it much due to your dissociation. “The only reason we're not killing you yet is because he could have your body at his disposal to relax himself. The moment he fucks you ‘til it’s out of his system? Oh, you'll be so dead to us.”

Is this how these deranged men see your relationship with Johan?

“Would he even know if we were to lay our hands on this girl before he arrives?”

“Don't even try unless you want your head shot!” the other man barks. “Let him have his way first. We'll pass her one by one next.”

You see, even if they were to undress you this instant you wouldn't be able to scream because of how utterly hollow you feel. Defeated. Eyes devoid of light. Just waiting for the doom to arrive.

“What an interesting proposal.” 

The familiar voice is more than enough to rattle everyone inside the room. No one even senses his arrival. The wicked smiles flush into something akin to guilt and horror, as if a grim reaper came to judge them of their sins. You almost flinch at how eerily benign his voice is, but his face, much emptier than yours, answers the question of what's about to transpire in this room.

“J-Johan—Sir, that's not what we—”

“Would you mind repeating what you just said?”

Everyone, including you, looks at him in horror. Is this somehow part of his deranged eccentricities? Does he plan to have all these men demonstrate what they mean when they say ‘passing your body around one by one after Johan's done with you?’

However, the men are too scared to speak. All their bravado lost, compared to how they talked about the things they've said mere seconds ago. Johan, on the other hand, seems to be losing his patience with their silence. 

“Would anyone like to repeat what he just said?” However, instead of looking around the room for answers, Johan instead looks at you; his expression perilously unreadable. 

No one dares to follow.

“It's okay, it's okay,” Johan assures the now trembling henchmen, “I quite like a good show, I must admit.” Johan’s eyes glisten at his own statement—an excitement if you squint—indicating that he knows exactly what he's talking about. It fills your gut with absolute dread. Johan's gaze turns to the man who insulted you and asks, “What was it? You'd like to pass and share her body around for everyone's pleasure, you say?”

Roberto shakes his head in dismay. He turns around the wall in disgust. Indeed he had seen much during his prime, but it certainly doesn’t entail liking it.

But seems like Johan isn’t taking it. “Why, Roberto?” he quips. “Not gonna watch?”

There’s a subtle undertone in his tease that sends shivers down Roberto’s spine—one Johan usually uses to reprimand him for his inadequacies.

“S-sorry,” Roberto’s voice comes off weakly at first, until he sighs, “too young for my tastes.” 

The man shakily standing beside Roberto interjects, “S-sir, we were just—”

“Now,” Johan claps his hands together with much eagerness, ”anyone who’d like to do the same… how about you raise your hand now, hm? It’s only a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all…”

Their expression softens and one of them even lets out a sigh. Turns out he's not that angry over it, huh. The person stained by your spit is the first to raise his hand. Then the one who tried to stop him earlier in fear of angering Johan raises his hand next. The other one at the corner of the room meekly follows not long after.

“Good, good. No one else?” Much to your confusion, Johan's eyes didn't leave you. Instead, he subtly takes his time noting your bruises, one on your lip, two on your swollen cheeks, and a black eye forming on your right. Typical. No doubt they’ve been too rough with you for his and your liking.

And so you counted it yourself; one, two, three, four, excluding Roberto and the other man who seems too scared of Johan—almost everyone in the room undoubtedly wants to take their turn with you. It makes you want to throw up. How did the softest friend you know grow up like this, willing to stand back and watch as each of these men do what they will, like deranged animals in heat? If Johan, your dearest childhood friend, really grew up to be someone this unhinged, this—this—sick, then he—

Bang. Bang

You let out a high-pitched gasp. Your ears are ringing— 

Bang. Bang.

You hear the thud of a heavy body slam against the floor. It’s—

Bang. Bang

Something wet splatters on your cheek.

You don’t need to move your eye to notice the crimson color of it. You don’t want to see it.

Johan honestly must've known better, though, because as much as these men fear him, they still are rotten to their core; they are mercenaries drawn to violence as much as he is even in a different manner. He’s usually amused hearing human beings’ downright tendency to depravity—it’s an innate nature he could never use against anyone. Just like how he had loved listening to his war veteran neighbor’s stories while his foster parents were out back in the day. The pain human beings inflict upon each other to assert dominance. It amused him to no end.

This is the only instance he had felt an actual disgust—a normal emotional response—to depravity. How interesting.

The last man who had raised his hand starts crying apologies to Johan on his knees (how utterly despicable it is that they're apologizing to him, not to you).

Bang. Bang. 

One for the aim and one for a sure death. And that's it. His hands are not shaking, eyes devoid of glint—just how many people have gone under the mercy of his bullets? You could only ask yourself.

Out of five mercenaries trying to insult you before his arrival, Johan was able to establish a point with the only man left alive because he didn't dare raise his hand at the earlier question. He is visibly shaking, looking at the corpses of his then comrades.

 And, as if there's no greater concern at hand, Roberto just rolls his eyes and whispers to himself, “Great. Another mess to clean up.” Oh, the more important things he would've attended to if not for Johan's strict temper today.

“A mess indeed,” Johan kneels to you, opens up a bottle of water, and lifts it to your mouth. You were forced to gulp down a bit of it, but you swat his hand away with your face, trembling. The water spills to the ground. Johan, as much as he lacks patience with others, is far from being perturbed this time around. Instead, he gets a white handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wipes the blood off your cheeks, “Would you like me to get you another? I know how thirsty you are right now.”

“Don't touch me,” you hiss at him.

Johan smiles amusingly. If he'd be perfectly honest, he had wanted to play a bit more with the arrangement you two had. You lowering your guard at him gave him the satisfaction he never once thought he'd have. It was so lovely watching you sleep, talk to him with ease, and every other benefit given to him after you foolishly trusted his version of Anna—something he wouldn't call fake because he is Anna, and Anna is him.

With the looming silence between you two, Roberto and the trembling mercenary take it as a signal to excuse themselves, thankfully so, for Johan asked something very personal.

“Do you remember everything now?”

You do not answer, not letting him control the emotional narrative the same way he does with your physical situation right now. However, you mustn't take this man lightly for you are yet to know the things he's responsible for—let alone how much control he holds over you and every element in your surroundings. 

After five minutes or so, he adds, “Apologies, I suppose that's a bit of a heavy topic to start off, no? Let's start with a small talk, then.” He sits properly, facing your tied up figure, his head level with yours. “How about we talk about the Inspector and his perpetually smiling friend?” you try your best to not let the flinch on your face show. “I wonder, have you ever told them about the lovely mother cat and her kittens that used to live below our apartment complex?” 

Your eyes widen. Your hands that are tied to your back start shaking in fear. Nevermind the fact that he just called your apartment ours. That is no small talk but rather a perilous warning. The floor may be dusty white, but this is an eggshell if Johan's around. One tiny step and everything would crumble. Their lives, as dear as they are to you, could turn into dust with a snap of his fingers. 

“Have you told them what happened to the mother cat? To the kittens? You seemed to hold Mr. Grimmer in a much nicer regard than the Inspector. Were you close enough? Were you able to open up your grievances about the death of those cats, regarding their survival as nothing but fleeting fortuities?”

“I…” you start, gulping down the urge to throw up then and there, “I don't…”

“Hm?” Johan's head tilts. Benign, curious, just as if he's talking to a friend. “Come again? I couldn't hear you.”

“I haven't… remembered all of it… yet…” you bite your lips, swallowing your pride, trying your hardest not to cry. You hate being overpowered like this. You feel like you're in a session with Daddy and his colleagues again. “I haven't remembered everything yet. My recollections are staggered; it cuts itself midway, and sometimes it doesn't even make sense.”

The room is silent for a while.

Johan's the one to cut it off. “No worries, no worries,” much to your distaste, he touches the corner of your eyes with his fingers. You don’t even know when you started crying. “That's not something to cry for. I'm not like them. I'm not gonna punish you for failing to answer a measly question.” 

His touch is light; one could wonder if it really took place. It's almost comforting too, or so he presents, because his remark just punched you in the gut. It means he knows everything. He knows every single detail about you, about what you went through, perhaps even those you're still yet to remember. After wiping your tears away, he suggests, “Then, don't you think I could help? Where do we start…”

What he said next didn't help you ground yourself at all—it didn't help you internalize that you're not in some session with the Kinderheim crew.

“Shall we start talking about the storybook you've always brought to me? The one that has a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover?”

<<< PREV CHAPTER • GET TAGGED FOR THE NEXT UPDATE

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SPECIAL MENTION TO @suusoh who helped me with this painstakingly long chapter. this has 7k words during the first draft and it's dragging so much I couldn't even bring myself to publish it but she saved my ass. ily kween mother. check her out!! my fave work of hers is this one KJSKSJKSJ 

i tried making the POV consistent by narrating through your (reader's) lenses but i realized this story would go nowhere if we were only to rely on your usual absentminded ass (much to johan's benefit). no worries tho. character development coming right up next chap! also, we're almost done folks :D thanks for sticking through and being patient despite my slow updates!

get this ugly mf away from me

[whisperingexecutioner]

“The Ghost of You” | Vladimir Makarov drabble (MW3)

____________________________________________________

Summary:

Just Makarov and his deep musings over a love lost.

Notes:   

Fandom: Modern Warfare 3, Call of Duty Setting: Moscow, Russia (unspecified location) Pairing: Vladimir Makarov x Female Reader Theme: Loss Prompt: Loneliness and reminiscence Attire: Casual Military gear

Inspiration: Was listening to ''Atlantic'' by Sleep Token when the idea for this popped into my head, so I wrote it. Just a drabble mostly for self entertainment cause I love this edgy man <3

Rating: G - sfw

____________________________________________________

July 14th, private cemetery on the outskirts of Moscow, Russia, 7:20 a.m.

The sunflowers are in full bloom. As are the roses, unfurling their full, dew-laden buds before the light of day. They are beautiful, as you would have probably said, just as you were. You would have loved them. Especially the blushing red ones nearest to your plot.

I still feel your warmth beside me, sometimes, when I'm halfway in that familiar haze of a particularly lucid dream, only to wake without you here. Sometimes I wonder, if it was always going to be this way, and somehow I think some part of me knew it would be. One day. Ah, but this…it wasn't meant to happen like this. Your existance - however fleeting - was something of great importance to me. It hadn't always been so, but you made it impossible for me to feel any other way, for me not to love you. Upon our first meeting I suppose I must have caught your eye, and from that moment forward, everything you ever did was to try and prove your worth to me. Wholly devoted to both myself and my cause, you quickly became a close ally. Someone who shared in my vision, and knew better than most that loyalty was everything; any betrayal, however great or small, would mean your immediate demise. This you understood from the start. As it was, your life was a gamble and the stakes could not have been higher, but for reasons I could not understand at that time, you chose to live it by my side. To witness the birth of greater Russia, whilst tangled in your ambitious lover's embrace. My embrace. How I wish I would have realized sooner, just what it was that you felt.

The future was meant to be ours, to shape as we saw fit. We were to carve out our stake of the world, to share in the revelry as we sat in the ashes of the old nations that would give rise to a stronger motherland.

. . . so why do I now sit alone here, thinking only of you? Of a future yet un-lived?

In the end, I suppose the song will always remain the same. Perhaps, I was truly never a man meant to love and be loved, but nevertheless I did. I had loved you, любимый, my darling. In me, you will forever live on, and should my memory one day fade, your pleasant smile will be the very last thing that death steals from me.

I go now with Yuri, away from this place, away from your grave. Your final place of peace. This is not our last goodbye, but for now it is a farewell. There are urgent things we must attend to, things made possible because of those who share in my vision. Made possible because of you. If I were to say that, for once in my life I had ever truly been happy, it would have been for the joy that stemmed from our simple interactions together; for the intimate moments we shared, and at feeling the depths of your unwavering affection and fondness.

You really were something else, something special, to have fallen so far for a man like myself. One day I know that I will join you in death, my little dove, but for now I must go. I bid you do svidaniya, until we meet again.

[necromycologist]

rating 'fantasies' songs by their tlt vibes

recently i got really into this album and ive been listening to it nonstop and i got the urge to make this post so behold.

Help I'm Alive

we open with a BANGER. the whole heart motif beauty of existence thing is very tlt in general but "if we're still alive my regrets are few/if my life is mine what shouldnt i do" feels like it could be ntn cam+pal perhaps. 6/10 for general vibes not really going anywhere specific tho.

Sick Muse

i could see this as a convo between gideon and harrow. "pull your little arrows out an let me live my life" she WOULD say that about love... ily harrowhark necro'mancer nonagesimus lyctorway keep sticking your middle finger up at preps. but the main event is "all the blondes are fantasies/we looked at them eleven ways/you said look at me then looked away" like i dont even need to explain this one. YOU SAID LOOK AT ME THEN LOOKED AWAY the orpheus and eurydice the betrayal the hurt why wont you eat me please please consume me why are you saving me sorry one sec. ill shut up about greek myths now. 7.5/10 that one lyric saved it for me

Satellite Mind

this song is so strange and offputting it has to be about our favourite little bone nun <3 its givin htn harrow "i can feel you most when im alone" um the body the body the body "flashback of a feeling/sixth sense of a calling" its the love! that they couldnt take away!! 6/10 because i think that the dreamy freaky what the fuck is happening are suuuuper htn however the actual lyrics arent super close

Gold Guns Girls

i want this song to be about ianthe tridentarius soooooo bad... i want it to be about our favourite perpetually thirdweeling failgirl so much... like ive never wanted anything else ever oh my GOD... "i remember when you were gambling to win/everybody else said better luck next time" underestimated at canaan house anyone? anyone at all? no takers?? no??? 3/10 because despite my deepest wishes this is just a good song thats not about gay catholic homestuck 😔

Gimme Sympathy

slightly ironic gtn griddlehawk at its finest. "get hot/get too close to the flames" oops! now ur her cavalier "wild open space" gideon-gettin-shocked-by-days-on-earth-emotional.png "talk like an open book" not with that vow of silence. idiot. "sign me up!" shes not signed up haha "ill remember someday all the chances we took" not after the lobotomy u wont lol "we're so close to something better left unknown" cough cough LYCTORHOOD. 9/10 manifesting kiriona giving harrow sympathy after all of this is gone in alecto

Collect Call

hiii ntn fans i prommy i didn’t forget abt u! this one goes out to the psychosexual mess of role playing and bad meals enjoyers <3 "i know it's a lie i want it to be true/the rest of the rot is riding on you" oh boy like i said psychosexual mess... pyrra dve my beloved "wishing you could KEEP! ME! CLOSER! IM A LAZY! DANCER! WHEN YOU MOVE! I! MOVE WITH YOUOOOOOOOOO" oh lord nona placing her hand on cam's shoulder like palamedes would. oh lord being so close in one body and yet a second apart. 8/10 should be higher but i started Having Feelings about nona's death again and couldnt finish listening to the song

Front Row

this is a john song if I’ve ever heard one. “burnt out stars they shine so bright… all of us” is def. giving lyctor vibes. (just children playing with reflections thinking they were stars grauauauagh etc etc) plus plus “he’s not perfect/he’s a victim/of his occupation/social insulation/secret intervention” like fuck dude he really is!!! pilot that president around ordinary dude fuck the world up with your good intentions!!! 10/10 this song is the brainrot undying the kindly prince of my lyctor brainrot

Blindness

besties ngl i am INCREDIBLY torn on this one,,, on one hand “what it is and where it stops nobody knows/you gave me a life i never chose/i wanna leave but the world wont let me go” goes crazy hard. like harrowhark ‘cursed to keep living’ nonagesimus? hello is that u? on the other hand the whole opening sequence of this is very blood of eden coded… 5/10 this song has a very Character Energy about it but i think i must accept that that character is probably not a tlt one

Stadium Love

ohohohoo! here she comes!! this song IS about canaan house like the whole thing n nothing will convince me otherwise. "wanna make a deal/angel versus eel" hm im getting gideighth betrayal vibes from this "rabbit versus dove" WHAT DID I SAY colum get back here your government assigned fursona is in the song "owl versus dove" uuuuuh this can be about the sixth being cool basically whenever because sixth -> wisdom -> athena -> owl. idc that they live on mercury fuck off. the blorbos may be smart but i dont have to be. btw camilla hect if you read this im free on thursday night and would like to hang out plz respond and then hang out with me on thursday night when im free. u can bring your necromancer too if yw. "every living thing pushed into the ring" duel time every (necro)man(cer) for himself "guess you thought you could just watch" go on enforce that cohort order judith! it wont backfire at all haha! "NO. ONES. GETTING. OUT" well. uh. none of them are. plus cant you just see the Character Portrait Flashes AMV Moments to the wooowooos?? cant you??? "without STADIUM LOVE" the last time they say this w the beat drop it should be gidedeath cytherea duel epic timez and then the echoing "love love" at the end is harrow waking up and mouthing The Three Syllables TM. 11/10 somebody lend me their animation skills please i would be sooo epic and responsible with them i have a Vison...

in conclusion thx for listening to my deranged ramblings (if anyone actually does.) please go listen to fantasies its so so good... message me and we can brainrot thru it together xoxo

[sacredpit]

↳               send 💪 to pick up / carry my muse .

    sender :   @ironleonine   /   source :   prompted   /   status :   selectively accepting .

    it seems the sterile white of the hospital walls holds the power to   warp time .   each day feels infinitely longer than just twenty - four hours ,   &   the sliver of the outside world visible from his window serves as the only constant reminder that life had not evaporated in the   heat of death’s grip ;   the transition from   winter to spring   offering a   new hope .   perhaps his healing brain   &   body are to blame for such a   persistent placebo ,   but kakyoin’s fragility lessens each day ,   the capabilities he’d exhibited before the incident within his reach ,   &   his sights set   ever higher ,   inspired by jotaro   &   the others to grow as strong as this lifetime would allow .   dio may be gone ,   but there’s no telling what else could be out there   ━━━━   the sole certainty is that kakyoin will face them   without fear . 

    charlie’s visit had been cause for   astonishment ,   though perhaps it shouldn’t have been .   the depth of their bond is clear ,   rather ,   kakyoin had not been expecting her to make the trip to japan once she’d returned to her hometown ,   following the conclusion of their   egyptian escapade .   she’d called a few times once he’d roused from the coma ,   &   hearing her voice again provided him a sense of solace he hadn’t known he’d needed   ━━━━   some fretful part of him fostered   concerns   as to whether or not their friendship could survive such a massive distance   (   he is still   not so used  to having friends ,   after all ,   especially not ones who’ve accompanied him to   hell   &   back   ) ,   thus ,   he cherished the reassurance .   however ,   in true charlie hunt fashion ,   she hadn’t so much as   hinted   to her plans to visit him in person ,   leaving his heart rate to   spike dangerously   when she’d suddenly poked her head into his room without even an   hour’s notice .

    even so ,   the reunion had been worth the heart attack .   kakyoin couldn’t hide his excitement to see her again   even if he’d been inspired to try ,   &   he valued the opportunity to interact meaningfully with charlie without the constant anxiety that   someone or something   may be closing in on them with   intent to kill .   despite the fact that he’d been unresponsive   &   fighting for his life just over a week ago ,   there’s a   pleasant normality   about the tranquil atmosphere ,   &   it renders him impossibly more determined to take his recovery by the reins   &   leave this place   as soon as he can .

    “   oh ,   look ,   ”   starts kakyoin ,   raising a slender arm to gesture toward the window .   “   the cherry blossoms are starting to bloom already .   they’re a bit early this year .   ”   violet eyes shimmer with interest ,   that same hand shifting to swipe ruby - red tresses away from his line of sight as he leans forward in the bed .   “   ah ,   i bet we could get a better view from the roof   ━━━━   jojo sneaks me up there sometimes ,   ”   he reveals this with a breathless giggle ,   gaze adhered to the burst of pink coloring the hospital campus .   “   but if you don’t want to go to the trouble ,   i’m sure he’ll come see me after school ,   so no worr━━━━charlie ?!   ”

    prior to the chance for   words of protest   to fly past his lips ,   kakyoin feels himself being lifted from his bed ,   the open top of his pajamas fluttering in the sudden breeze of the motion   (   he hadn’t bothered to button it entirely ,   wanting to allow the wound on his abdomen the chance to   ‘  breathe  ’   as much as it could through the careful bandaging   ) .   when his vision stops spinning ,   he realizes that he’s in charlie’s arms .   bridal style .   

    “   what on   earth   do you think you’re doing ??   ”   he wheezes at her ,   keeping his voice down so as not to alarm the staff   (   or put too much strain on his body   ) ,   but ensuring his tone is as   severe as it can be   at this volume .   his whole face flushes ,   a deeper cerise than the blossoms swaying in the vernal winds   &   complementing the   crimson waves of his hair .   “   i can   walk ,   for fuck’s sake !!   put me down this instant !!   i won’t   break   from going up the stairs .   ”   we’ll just have to go   slowly ,   that’s all .

[lethaltuoch]

............... VERSE: SHE LIGHTS THE FIRE WITHIN HIM - ANNA & ANGELO

… bitemescftly​ …

OPEN STARTER  ;;  handma*d’s taIe plot idea. a world where the people of higher social/political status are encouraged to go and choose a fertile woman of their liking from a facility that prepares the girls accordingly. anna is to become a servant and to occassionally spread her legs for your muse until she falls pr*gnant OR she becomes a live-in fuck toy as well as a bre*ding toy. at the facility she was made to wear a metal collar around her neck for the time of training, your muse/s can choose if it stays on or not   list of all kinks here   ||  please don’t like my starters unless you plan on replying!  

         her eyes remained focused on the tiled floor of the corridor the entire time, even as the voices of the men outside the door seemed to reach her whenever their voices raised above the level of a hushed conversation. the brunette knew that it was her fate that was being discussed, she had been told what would happen if any of the lords would take a fancy to her physical appearance and what little information where was about her. At least the most important bits. Her name, her age, where she came from, at what age she started her monthly bIeeding, is she was a virgin and - most importantly - how fertiIe she was over all and in that particular moment. Due to the nearly critical dip in the rate of births there were some new laws forcibly being passed, some adjustments done to the bigger part of the world. That’s how Anna found herself standing in a line with a dozen other, naked, women as another lord came for a visit to find themselves a perfect servant, a perfect breeder, a perfect toy. The brunette felt as if her world was crumbling all around her as the man stopped in front of her and signaled that she was the one he wanted. She was quickly pulled out of the large room and to a bathroom to get her scrubbed clean, washed, waxed and lathered with scented oils - not even giving her a chance to look at the one who chose her. Now there she stood, trembling in anxiety and fear, feeling the weight of the cold metal collar around her neck, waiting for the door to open, waiting to find out if a deal had been struck or if she would be returning to the training facility with her teacher.

Angelo   didn’t   know   how   he   felt   about   how   the   world   was   being   run   [   ,,,   ]  but   what   he   did   know   was   that   he   wanted   a   child  [   ,,,   ]  he   wasn’t   getting   younger   and   he   wanted   to   have   a   few   kids   and   an   heir   to   take   over   his   mafia   empire.   The   line   of   naked   woman   was   ridiculous   [   ,,,   ]  he   didn’t   know   why   it   was   needed   and   it   pissed   him   off   but   he   walked   the   line   anyway   and   there   was   one   woman   that   peaked   his   interest.   She   seemed   almost   ….   lost   and   he   wanted   to   perhaps   give   her   a   life   that   wasn’t   this.   Once   they   had   finished   with   prepping   the   women   he   had   choose   [   ,,,   ]  he   walked   into   the   room   she   was   being   held   walking   over   to   her.   His   hand   moved   up   [   ,,,   ]  fingers   brushing   strands   of   her   hair   behind   her   ear.  

“   Are   you   ready   to   go   home   kitten?   ”   he   questioned   [   ,,,   ]   his   tone   was   soft   unlike   most   men   who   had   spoken   to   her.   As   good   as   she   looked   in   the   collar   she   was   wearing   [   ,,,   ]  she   wanted   her   to   want   to   wear   a   collar   not   be   forced   too.   His   fingers   moved   to   slide   the   collar   off   of   her   and   his   hand   dropped   down   [   ,,,   ]  fingers   laced   through   hers.   “  My   car   better   be   outside  ”   he   spoke   demanding   towards   the   man   and   colder   towards   him   then   he   had   spoken   to   Anna.   He   walked   out   of   the   area   and   out   towards   his   car.

Anna watched the man uncertainly, not sure what she should feel about him just yet. While grateful that there was someone who had decided to take her away from the awful place that the market was - she could not be celebrating just yet. What if he turned out to be far worse than any torture the brunette had to learn at the training camps? What if the man who now owned her very soul would decide she meant nothing more than a fleck of dirt under his shoe? The possibilities were endless, the young woman knew, the stories and gossip of how the maids were treated travelling through the entire country and not a single one of them was good. Even remotely good. The woman looked up when her collar was taken off, suddenly able to move her head freely and almost smiling at the feeling. She was caught off guard when the man’s hand moved up and touched her, brushing her hair away from her face - such a tender gesture from someone who had spent a small fortune on a slave? Anna was even more confused when his question was voiced in a soft tone, so different to anything the brunette was used to hearing in the time she spent at the camp. She nodded her head, too afraid to voice her answer just yet, knowing better to speak without being allowed. Her delicate hand encased by his large palm felt almost ridiculous but Anna didn’t make a sound as she followed the man to the car silently, her head bowed, not saying a thing, not looking anywhere she wasn’t meant to.

[thegreatvampirekiller]

bold the lines of poetry that apply to your muse

Tagged by; @extraordinarygrrls Tagging; @lydialimpetslibrary, @psychmajxr, @lady-transylvanya 

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked // tyger tyger, burning bright // I have done it again. // do not go gentle into that good night. // the sea is calm to-night. // let us go then, you and I, // april is the cruelest month, // pretty women wonder where my secret lies. //  there is a place where the sidewalk ends // I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) // two roads diverged in a yellow wood, // whose woods these are I think I know // let us twain walk aside from the rest; // once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, // I taught myself to live simply and wisely // It so happens I am sick of being a man // I wandered lonely as a cloud // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? // o my luve is like a red, red rose // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; // out of the night that covers me, // It was many and many a year ago, // you may write me down in history // do not stand at my grave and weep // some say the world will end in fire / some say in ice. // hope is the thing with feathers // the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // no man is an island, // remember me when I am gone away, // I met a traveler from an antique land // ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves // this is thy hour o soul, // we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud, // and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you; // the art of losing isn’t hard to master; // to see a world in a grain of sand // Is there anybody there? said the traveller // nobody heard him, the dead man, // that crazed girl improving her music. // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep, // In flanders’ fields the poppies blow // I thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream // It may be misery not to sing at all, // If starry space no limit knows // come live with me and be my love, // had we but world enough and time, // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense // bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art- // thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // how do I love thee? let me count the ways. //heaven is what I cannot reach! // my dear, my dear, I know // In visions of the dark night // shall I compare thee to a summers day? // break, break, break // she walks in beauty, // I had a dream, which was not all a dream. // he clasps the crag with crooked hands

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

i.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

[jincherie]

fox rain | five

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop two on the angst train express!!! not as blatant, more reading between the lines here...... have fun! • ☽ — notes: bros... it’s only downhill from here. cowa-fucking-BUNGA amirite cowboys???????!?!?

— posted; 18.09.2020

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | five | next • —

You lay in a sort of placid, bewildered shock, the kind that is sourced from confusion as opposed to an unpleasant surprise. After waking to blearily turn off your alarm before it blasted through the entirety of Dancing Lasha Tumbai, you’d unlocked your phone to find this curious set of messages from a number you haven’t saved. You’ve been lying in place for several minutes as your tired, wired brain slowly kicks into gear and attempts to debunk the mystery. After another unsuccessful few minutes of staring blankly at the screen, you’re saved from impending cranial combustion when your phone lets out a delightful little tinkle and another message hastily joins the others.  

Ah, that makes so much sense now! Except it doesn’t. Actually, it kind of adds to your bewilderment. Taehyung… is texting you? You don’t think you’ve ever in your life had any correspondence with him that didn’t either take place in the presence of Jimin or under the influence of alcohol… also in the presence of Jimin, now that you think of it. You haven’t really interacted with Taehyung outside of Jimin. So it is particularly odd to wake up to a series of messages that are from him, and pertaining to such an odd topic. You’re still so tired you can’t even fathom what would warrant a text from him. Maybe you dropped something at one of your tutoring sessions and Jimin asked him to give it back to you? It would make sense, since after the rollercoaster of a ride the last week has been for him (in particular, the questionable events that took place at the hands of one Kim Seokjin but somehow ended up with Jimin and Hoseok making up? You don’t really understand it but you’re not even going to bother to try to at this point) he has ended up a little preoccupied.

Tapping the screen when your inactivity leads it to go dark, you take a moment to scrounge a response from the empty barrel bottom that is your brain. Once satisfied, you drop your phone onto your bed and flop yourself back to the position you’d been in before your own alarm woke you so rudely. Technically, you don’t have to be up and about for another hour…

With faith that your additional hour of sleep will revive your ability to think, you allow yourself to slip somewhat self-indulgently back into sleep and pass the fuck out like a woman who has spent the night trying to forget.

(Which you are, and did do, except with maybe a little less alcohol than what that sentence implied.)

X     X     X     X

 It has been almost a week since the unfortunate end to that tutoring session on Monday, and while you’ve managed to stay off social media enough that you haven’t triggered yourself by accident in the entirety of that duration, every time you come on campus it’s like for however many steps forward you took, you take double the amount backwards. University students are such gossips! Well, the jobless ones are, anyway. The students that work and study are too busy dragging themselves around campus in a stunning rendition of the undead from various media to be bothered with the latest plot twist in the resident school drama. Which is to say, there has been no twist. The population is still shamelessly up Sera’s ass in the belief that she is the author of the poem, and as has become the norm you find yourself resisting the urge to hunt the bitch down and go in for round two on her face. Surely, your self-control has earnt you the title of a saint by now.

You’re blasting some angsty shit on the way to your music history class and pretending you’re in a music video for some indie band (it’s cathartic, and you will argue that fact to your grave), when you make it a few steps past the entrance to the food court and have the absolute living daylights scared out of you. Thudding footsteps reach you through your earphones and two hands clamp on your shoulders to halt you in place and spin you around like Barbie Ballerina.

“You’re a disgrace!” It’s Seokjin who has halted you in the middle of the hallway, every bit as dramatic as you’d come to expect. “You skipped drama class? And you call yourself an acting major, PSH!”

Yanking your earphones out, you nail the tall, pink-haired idiot with a glare. Very bold of him to be approaching you after you nearly chopped off Lil’ Jinnie barely a few days ago for his bastardous antics. Perhaps he’s getting a bit big for his glittery pink rainboots.

“First of all, will you please listen to me when I tell you I’m not an acting major?” Unfortunately, when you speak your voice comes out more exasperated and less threatening than you intended. “Second of all—very bold of you to be approaching me right now. You’re lucky you escaped with your life, you meddling bastard. You want me to bite the rest of your dick off?”

“You should know by now that I take that as a compliment,” Seokjin sniffs, haughtily, ignoring the latter part of your threat. “And do you know how boring it is for me to crash your class when you’re not even there? No one threatens me like you! It’s getting harder and harder to get it up these days, you know. I need a hit of the good stuff.”

For a moment you’re simply stunned into silence, staring at him and wondering just how and why he seems to have been sent here with the sole mission of making you want to kill him and then yourself. Nothing you could think to say really is enough, so you settle on simply turning and walking away.

Of course, you forgot that no one turns their back on Kim Seokjin and gets away with it.

“YAH!”

You wince—you think he actually just broke a sound barrier, or maybe your eardrums— or both. Seokjin quickly scrambles to place himself in front of you, arms out. His eyes are wide in something you suspect he thinks is a puppy-eyed look, but actually comes across more like he’s trying not to shit himself.

“Promise me you won’t skip drama again!” Seokjin says, pointing a finger at you in borderline accusation. When he doesn’t see your expression budge, he quickly changes tactics. “If not for me, the most charming prince in the story of your life, then at least for Jungkook, that poor virgin—”

You blink, distracted for a moment by what he said. “Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?”

“’Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?’” Seokjin repeats in a voice a few octaves higher than your own. “Listen to you, not even knowing who is in your own class. For shame! But have no fear, since you clearly skip so much I will happily extend my generosity and take you under my wing. Tutelage fee starts at $55 with an extra $5 for every question you ask that I don’t know—”

“Do you ever actually hear yourself talk?” you ask, feeling your will to live draining out your ears. “Like, the shit that comes out of your mouth? Do you hear it? Because—wait, are you saying you would charge me for questions that you don’t know the answer to?!”

Seokjin shrugs, “It’s a little unorthodox, I know. But—”

“I would literally be bankrupt! Thousands—no, millions of dollars in debt!” You exclaim, grabbing him by his stupid big shoulders and shaking him about. “Do I look crazy to you?!”

“Oh, what, you think you can do better?!” Seokjin demands, voice wobbling from your shaking. “What’s 2x2?”

“Fucking four!” you wail, releasing him in your despair. You can’t do this, your day only just started and you are not exhausted enough to micronap while he talks like usual. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me. DELETE MY NUMBER.”

“Haha jokes on you!” you hear Seokjin holler from behind you, voice rapidly growing quieter from the speed that you’re powerwalking away. “You never gave me your number!”

You make it to class barely on time due to Seokjin acting as one of the biggest inconveniences in your life, and while you manage to push him from your brain for the duration of it, you wish you could say that is the last time you see him,

It’s probably the fact that you busted his ass being a weirdo with Jimin and Hoseok last week that has him so…. attached this week, you suspect. You’re at your third Seokjin encounter for the day and you’re honestly considering whether you should trip to the campus pharmacy and look for some pepper spray, or maybe an umbrella. Pepper spray would be more effective, but the umbrella…. You can’t argue against the satisfaction it would provide.

You’re trying to sneak your way into a library on the Arts side of campus, one you don’t usually go to, so you can study without worrying about going absolutely batshit insane in the presence of Seokjin. It was hard, but you think that you’ve finally managed to shake him. What on earth had him so determined to tail you today? Was it seriously because you skipped your own class? Nutcase.

You peek your head around the corner looking not only for Seokjin, but for another thing you had happened to notice every time you were ambushed. You have yet to determine whether the glimpse of phenomenally bright floral print right before Seokjin pounces you is causation or correlation, and it makes you a bit nervous. Cautiously, like timid forest animal, you creep around the corner and begin to make your way into the building, eyes flicking from the library door right at the end to the rest of your surroundings. The café coming up on your right tempts you greatly, but you know it is too great of a risk. Out in the open, you’d definitely be seen.

This area is almost like a courtyard, an undercover area between three separate buildings. With a looming cement and glass ceiling, though, it feels like a building of its own. The library sits nestled in the corner of the largest building, and although it isn’t very wide, it spans several floors. You plan on going to the highest one and hiding in a corner near a window.

You’re close, so close to reaching the library in fact that you’ve fallen into a false sense of security. By the time you register the sound of pounding footsteps approaching behind you, for the second time today, it’s too late.

“Ah, y/n! Wait!”

Instinctively you prepare to burst into a sprint to get away, but at the last second stop yourself. That doesn’t sound like Seokjin… that sounds like—

“Taehyung?” you ask, turning in surprise as the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of you, bending with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I’ve… been trying….” he huffs, “To talk to you…. all day….. hah…Why are you so….. good at running away?”

He looks absolutely wiped out, cheeks red and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. You’re just beginning to feel guilty when you notice his shirt, the bright floral print that you literally don’t know anyone else bold enough to wear, and you realise he’s really not lying. Poor Taehyung, just like you he has fallen victim to—

“That Seokjin bastard,” you say, completing a quick scan of the area to make sure the mention of his name didn’t somehow summon him. “He’s been harassing me all day. I’ve had to really up my game. By the way… are you okay? Please breathe… also what did you want to talk to me about?”

Taehyung straightens, eyes closed as he attempts to control his breathing. One of his hands comes to sweep the ashy hair from his face, the ends slightly damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding slightly like he’s about to pass out. You prepare to take a step forward and catch him if he does, but he opens his eyes in the next second and shoots you a dopey smile. “I’m fine! Apparently just… whoo… really out of shape.”

“Your sacrifice is not in vain,” you say, smiling when he lets out a sudden laugh. Another shaky breath rakes past his lips before he straightens, eyes blinking a little wider. “Ah, right. I was looking for you because, um… you didn’t respond to my text… and I needed to ask you something that’s a little time-sensitive…”

“Your text…” you wrack your brain, sure that you remembered responding to it this morning in bed. Your mouth shifts into a wince, though, when you can recall writing a response, but not actually sending it. “Oh. I am so sorry, I’m an idiot. I was kind of half asleep when you texted, and I swear to god I typed a response but I think I fell asleep again before sending it…”

There is not a shred of accusation on Taehyung’s pleasant features, lips instead slightly curled in a smile. “That’s fine,” he chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “I do it all the time too. I’m just glad I caught you.”

You return his smile, before a thought that had been nagging you earlier returned and you acted on the urge to voice it. “By the way…. How did you get my number?”

Your question seems to be unexpected and, for some reason, flusters him slightly. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze for a moment. “Uh, Jimin gave it to me. It was for something stupid a while ago but I never needed to use it.”

You raise your brows at what he said, but get the feeling he’s not going to elaborate. Instead, you remain quiet and wait for him to continue his thought from earlier. He shuffles on his feet, returning his gaze to your own. “Anyway, the reason I was trying to catch you all day was because I wanted to ask you something…”

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I kind of noticed, and Jimin mentioned lightly that things haven’t been, uh…. great for you lately.” He doesn’t even give you time for that statement to sink in amongst your shock, continuing without pause despite the way his cheeks begin to flush, “And, uh, my exhibition is this Friday, and I was gonna go with Jimin but he double-booked himself with Hobi, so now I have no plus-one and I was wondering… if you wanted to go?”

When you simply stand there, dumbfounded, he clears his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down. “To um, you know, take your mind off things… maybe… you don’t have to, of course, but I just thought I would—”

Snapping out of your stupor before he can take back the invitation, you hastily step forward and outstretch your hands. “Oh, no I would love to go! This is really—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the light sting of your eyes “—sweet of you. I’d like to go, if it’s ok. You’re sure Jimin doesn’t mind…?”

Taehyung seems shocked, and you suspect he might have thought you would turn down the invitation from the way his eyes seem to light up. Have you really been walking around campus looking like that much of a gloomy bitch? You need to check your facial expressions when you get home this afternoon.

“He won’t mind,” he says, waving his hand excitedly. “Great, perfect—um, here is the little info sheet. I’d stay to tell you more but my class actually started a few minutes ago, so…”

“Oh!” you exclaim, taking the sheet from his hand before waving him away. “Go! Go to class! I’m sorry I made you late! Thank you for this, by the way!”

He seems slightly dazed at your enthusiastic thanks and farewell, but he shakes himself out of it and before he goes he sends you a smile that you can’t think of any other way to describe except dazzling. “It’s no problem, y/n. See you then.”

And then he’s off and you’re left standing alone in the pseudo-courtyard, clutching the exhibition pamphlet in your grip. Your eyes sting ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think how kind of sad it is that one person goes out of their way to think of you in the midst of everything you’re dealing with and you’re so touched you’re nearly driven to tears.

Hormones suck and you want a refund.

 X     X     X     X

 Taehyung was right when he said that what he had to ask you was time-sensitive. 

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Friday was only a few days away— and in the midst of classes, schoolwork, and everything else, those days went fast.  Before you know it, it’s Friday morning and a panicked glance at the pamphlet Taehyung had given you reveals that the exhibition opens officially around 4:30PM. That works out surprisingly well for you, considering your last class ends at three o’clock and you can easily reschedule your session with Hoseok and Jimin. 

There’s a lot about the invitation you haven’t gotten to really dwell on, and that continues to be the case as the day flies before your very eyes. By the time your music theory class comes to an end and you finish scribbling down the last few lines of note from your teacher, the event is even closer than you anticipated. From your recent examination of the pamphlet, you’d found earlier that Taehyung’s exhibition is being held at a small university-sponsored gallery downtown. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there from your house, and on the way home after packing your things, you plot out the route you’re going to take. It’s about a twenty minute trip, as you discover, since there is by some stroke of luck a bus that goes straight there from a street just around the corner from your own. Taking that into account, you should have around forty minutes or so to get ready. 

Considering you’re one of many poor university students populating the area, it’s not often you actually put the effort in to get dressed up. Around these parts, there is a distinct culture of sweat pants and comfortable tops and more often than not a socks-and-slides combo, something you take part in more often than you’d like to admit. Still, you feel that considering the nature of the event you’ve been invited to and what you know of Taehyung’s works, you should probably be putting in much more effort than usual. 

While you might act like a slob sometimes, this isn’t actually a problem— even goblins like you can have a stash of decent clothes somewhere in their cave. Yours happen to be pushed to the back of your closet on hangers that haven’t seen the light of day in months. What can you say? University takes its toll in mysterious ways. 

Standing before your closet, eyes boring into the portion that’s been held in its depths for longer than you can remember, you wonder which way you should go with your outfit. Exhibitions are fancy right? Should you dress it up? Logic says you should, but on the other hand what if you are the only one dressed up? That would be humiliating. You pause for a moment to think about the type of garb you usually see Taehyung in— you have a feeling that he will probably dress the same way tonight. Recalling his bold, avante-garde taste in fashion is about as helpful as one might imagine, but it does comfort you to know that no matter what you choose, most eyes will likely be on him anyway. 

Comforted by that fact, you make up your mind and pull out a set that isn’t too over the top, and won’t make you look like a rat. Once you’ve slipped into those, you freshen up and wash your face, trying to make yourself seem a little bit more alive afterwards and not like you had an 8AM class today. You’re successful, to a degree, but you’re a little tight on time so you can’t really dwell on it. Feeling your stomach rumble as you grab your bag and key, you can only hope that this exhibition has free food.

x — x — x

“Ah, y/n! You’re here! You… you look nice.”

You were so busy staring at the large, shiny building before you that when Taehyung’s voice rings out in greeting, it startles the hell out of you. You don’t even register what he says before you’re pointing with eyes and mouth wide open, “Your exhibition is in there?!”

His expression of surprise melts into one of amusement, a laugh tumbling from deep in his throat. You don’t even notice the way his cheeks are flushed ever so slightly as he meets your gaze.

“Fancy, right?” he says, wagging his brows. “Some loaded alumnus who actually enjoyed his university experience practically donated it to them. So now they use it for, uh… for most exhibitions.”

“For the best ones, you mean,” you say, your grin widening when he scratches the back of his neck, bashful and blushing. “But yeah, damn. I was expecting it to be nice but I wasn’t expecting it to be this nice.”

Taehyung laughed again, clearing his throat. As he takes a moment to collect himself, you let your eyes scan over his form. The second you do so, you feel a foreign flutter in your stomach, heat flushing to your face. There is truly no other way to describe his choice of outfit for today except for painfully boyfriend. Perhaps on anyone else it would look a little less than presentable, but on Taehyung’s model-esque form the loose chestnut pants and an oversized leather jacket over a boldly patterned shirt work wonders. How does he look so effortless yet so…?

If you’d attempted to wear something like that you’d end up looking like the local court jester. Perhaps you should just make peace with the fact that God has favourites and Kim Taehyung is clearly one of them. 

“It, um. It started a few minutes ago, shall we head in?”

Taehyung offers you his arm, a gentlemanly move that completely contrasts the boyish grin on his face. Ignoring the sudden sensations in your abdomen, you make a show of curtsey-ing before you take it, eliciting a laugh from your company as the two of you head to the entrance and the full exhibition experience begins. 

As soon as you enter there is someone by the door, who seems to be at the very least taking note of how many people enter, a table with flyers and booklets beside him. Taehyung parts from you only to move over and grab a few, brandishing them as he returns with a bright grin.

“Here is all the information about the event, madame,” he says, with an extremely exaggerated air of grandeur, presenting one of the flyers with a flourish. You take it, unable to help your soft snort.

“I would have thought I had something better, what with the very artist behind the event accompanying me,” you say, grinning when you see his cheeks turn an endearing pink as he flashes a bright, boxy smile. 

“True,” he returns, folding the other flyer and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. “You can’t ask a flyer questions in real time. Anything that crosses your mind, you can ask straight to the source.”

“Oh? Then, may I enquire as to what the theme of this exhibition is?” You’re enjoying the playful air that drifts between you now, unable to rid your face of the smile currently displayed on it even if you wanted to.

Taehyung’s eyes flick to you, a lopsided smile tugging his lips to accompany the sly accent to his gaze. “Ah, a tough one right off the bat. I think telling you straight-up would be too easy. Let’s see if you can try to guess it as we walk through.”

You turn to him with an affronted look, having expected him to easily supply you with the answer. Taehyung is a little cheekier than you remember. You snap your mouth shut, cheeks heating when you notice he has offered his arm to you once more. Taking note of the other people in the room walking around in a similar manner, you slip your arm through his and try to ignore the way you feel your ears light on fire.

“Okay, you’re on,” you respond, if a few moments too late. He doesn’t comment on the delay, simply sending you a smile that you can’t quite decipher the emotion behind. You don’t get to dwell before the two of you are off, beginning on your journey through the building and starting on your tour of the exhibition. 

You’d kind of always known that Taehyung was talented, considering he managed to make such a name for himself on campus in such little time with such ease. Hell, he’s well-known enough to have made it onto the list of suspects for the muse of your poem. Still, this knowledge is only compounded the further into the building you go and the more of the exhibition you see. Taehyung is truly talented, the images blown up and displayed on the wall each capturing a certain emotion that you don’t have a name for, yet is so familiar that each time you see a new one it gives you pause. Viewing his works, seeing into this part of him and witnessing this bit of his soul he has bared, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of kinship. 

It’s something that rests in the space between your lungs and diaphragm, something that tickles but also something that aches. You do know this feeling, so familiar yet so out of touch and far from the tip of your mind’s tongue. You do try to guess the theme of the exhibition as you go, throwing out the occasional dumb guess to elicit a laugh— he always laughs, and it always makes you smile— but you don’t quite manage to pin it. 

“The five senses,” you shoot into the dark, standing before an image that has made you stop and stare for a good five minutes now. It’s not quite black and white, and it’s not a particularly unique image— but something about the composition, something about the movement in the two hands that are so close yet so far from actually touching, speaks to that hidden part of you. The way one of the hands simply hangs, unbothered and neutral, but the other, the one slightly closer to the foreground, has fingers ever so slightly outstretched, reaching but never quite committing to the movement and the unspoken consequence of the hinted action. 

Of course, you know the answer even before Taehyung says it. He laughs, hands in his pockets, “Nope, ddaeng.”

“This is hard,” you whine, without much heart behind it. The smile stays on Taehyung’s face.

“Whatever. You’re smart, I know you can guess it. It should be easy, for you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you have to turn away so that he doesn’t see your cheeks warm. The two of you had parted when you caught sight of the snacks table; you’d been prepared to abandon him and make a beeline over, but Taehyung had surprised you by marching over himself and coming back with a loaded plate. He’d confessed with a sheepish smile that he hadn’t had lunch, and really you were in no place to judge since you hadn’t either. By this point in your journey, though, the plate is almost empty. There’s only two tiny cupcakes left and you’re letting the rest of the things you scarfed down settle before you go in for more. 

Perhaps it was a little dangerous, coming here with Taehyung. He looks so fine, even while shoving sweets in his mouth, that you spend about the same amount of time looking at him as you do at his artworks. It takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes away every time you catch yourself looking at him and admiring the truly boyfriend fit he has donned for this occasion. Every so often he will simply stand before one of his works, scrutinising it with a fresh perspective and ever-criticising eyes, and the sight of it will make something nameless and foreign well within you. You don’t quite know what to do with it, so you ignore it. Or at least, you try to. 

It feels a little too similar to what you know of yearning. It leaves you confused.

You stop not long after in front of another piece, this time a combination of three images that act as separate snapshots of smaller parts of a larger image. You admire the way he has set it out, revealing not too much but just enough that the viewer gets a sense, a feeling, but isn’t confronted with the message. It allows everyone to take their own sensation from it. You like that a lot about his works— he doesn’t tell people what to feel as they view his images, but merely hints, prompts and nudges. He sets the stage and allows people to take what they need, see whichever bits draw their eye most and spell meaning from elements of their choosing. He’s talented, you find yourself marveling again, so incredibly talented.

But still, you can’t put a finger on what the theme is.

By the time you make your way completely though the exhibition, having doubled back at a few points to look again at a select few of the pictures, you’re still no closer to guessing. It has you deep in your thoughts as you stand outside, waiting for Taehyung to return from thanking one of the guests who had recognised him for coming. 

“Guessed it, yet?”

You turn, pinning him with a look that you hoped didn’t look as dumb as it felt. “Leave it with me,” you say. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

At your words, Taehyung laughs— it’s one of the full-bodied ones you’ve come to enjoy, where he throws his head back a little and shakes his hair back into place after. You have to snap yourself out of it before he catches you staring. 

“I’m sure,” he says, unable to keep the cheeky grin off his face. It does slip ever so slightly though, just for a moment, as you watch a thought cross his features. “By the way…”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. You feel an odd combination of at-peace, and unsettled. Holistically, this is the most at-peace and relaxed you’ve been in weeks. However, when you take a moment to tune into the inner machinations that make up your being… something in this exhibition has reached into your insides and fiddled around, moving things where they shouldn’t be and touching things that aren’t meant to be touched. It’s odd, and you acknowledge that it gives you quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. Even so, you’re calm enough that you have no trouble being patient while you wait for Taehyung to continue and say what he seems so nervous to say. 

“Um, I know I initially only asked you about coming here, to the exhibition…” he begins, reaching to rub the back of his neck in what you recognise to be one of his nervous ticks. “But, I actually have these vouchers I won in a competition a while ago for a paint-and-sip session that are about to expire, and I was wondering… would you like to go? Now, I mean. Since they actually kind of expire tomorrow. Unless you’re busy, because if you are that’s—”

You decide to put him out of his flustered misery, reaching to nudge his arm. “Of course, that sounds fun! Plus, you were right the other day; I could really do with the chance to relax. Thank you, for all this. I really appreciate it.”

It takes a second for your words to register, but when they do the most blindingly bright smile spreads across his face; he’s practically beaming at you. 

“Of course,” he says, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “I’m really happy you agreed to come— I’m glad you said yes to the paint-and-sip, too, because it’s one of my favourite places. Come on, let’s get going. If we get there at just the right time, we can get a really good seat, hopefully by the window.”

The journey continues, Taehyung leading you through the city while chatting easily all the while, a stunning twilight cityscape backdrop and the gentle glimmering surface of the river meandering through buildings providing the perfect scenery. If you had a little more faith in your artistic ability, you might try and paint the image you see now; Taehyung in the colours of dusk, soft and natural against the bright lights and harsh lines of the metropolitan landscape. But alas, you aren’t as talented as the man besides you, and you don’t even want to think of how it would turn out if you attempted to paint such a thing. You quickly throw the thought from your mind before it can linger and get up to more trouble than it’s worth. 

“Here we are!” Taehyung’s cheer breaks you out of your stupor, bright smile directed your way once more as he stops in front of a large establishment with long strips of window and a colourfully sewn awning. 

‘Brush & Bar’, the cursive, neon sign reads above the door, flickering between soft pink and peach orange. It’s an interesting aesthetic the place has going on, but when you look over and catch sight of Taehyung once more it suddenly makes sense why he likes it so much. The style of this place is very similar to some of the more outlandish things he tends to model around campus. Before your reverie lets you remain abandoned outside, you hurry to follow after the ashy-haired boy, grabbing the back of his jacket when you almost trip over the door frame. He spares a look over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay before he continues, moving towards the counter and smiling with more charm than you can personally handle at the staff member there. 

It’s a woman, who you suspect is in her mid-thirties, and she is pretty enough that it takes you by surprise when she rolls her eyes heavily at Taehyung’s approach. 

“You again, boy?” she asks, though it sounds more rhetorical than anything and you catch the slightest tinge of humour accenting her words and it soothes your hackles. “Don’t you ever get sick of hanging around here?”

“Nope!” 

She cracks a smile, lines appearing at the edges of her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. We’d miss you an awful lot if you ever stopped showing up here.” Her eyes flick ever so slyly to you, and then back. “Say, is today the day you’re finally gonna make good on those vouchers you won? I know you said you were waiting for the right chance to ask that g—”

“Yes!” Taehyung cuts in loudly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing darkly. “Yes, yep! I brought the vouchers! They do expire tomorrow after all!”

The woman, Bora as you now see from her nametag, simply smiles, something sly about the action intriguing you. Taehyung clears his throat, reaching to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, um… I will use them now. Is the window seat free…?”

Bora nods, a fond curve to her lips now as she rummages around behind the counter and takes the offered vouchers from Taehyung to punch holes in them. “Your favourite spot? Of course. I had a feeling you were coming, too, so I’ve already gone and set it up with some canvases and acrylics.”

She hands the vouchers back, and Taehyung slips them into the pocket of his jacket.  “Paintbrushes and jars are in their usual place, and I know you don’t normally drink while you’re here but if you’d like some tonight just take your order up to Kyungsoo. Oh! And tonight’s special for snacks is tea cakes, so definitely make the most of that. There are some good ones in the display.”

At the mention of food and alcohol, your gaze had already started to wander on its own— you catch sight of the display of cakes and other sweets and feel your mouth water. Ridiculous, since you were kind of full before, but what can you say, you’re a complicated woman. Lots of layers, not unlike an onion. The thought almost makes you snort.

With a gentle nudge to your arm, Taehyung is bringing you back to the present moment and leading you over to the window, where a medium-sized table has been set up with two square canvases and a basket of paint bottles, palettes leaning to the side. Taehyung instructs you to take a seat, informing you with a smile that he’ll grab some paintbrushes and water for the two of you to use. At his suggestion, while he is gone you open up your phone and search for something to paint. Something that’s not too hard and not too easy. Because your skills are… well, they’re not nonexistent but you’re not about to go around tooting your horn in front of someone with actual art skills and talent. Apparently there is usually an image supplied for each night, but Taehyung says it’s not strict and that tonight is one of the nights where all the patrons just have free reign. 

You sort of get distracted part way through the activity, eyes subconsciously seeking Taehyung’s leather jacket amongst the decently filled establishment. It’s really quite nice inside, actually; the walls and general decor are soft and neutral, with pops of colour everywhere that bring each corner and table to life. A lot of the furniture is wooden, natural and polished underneath specks of paint that decorate in layers that tell of time spent well. The lighting is soft with the exception of the bulbs stationed above each table, which are brighter and angled towards where the canvas would be. On one of the walls, the one near the bar, it is completely covered by greenery— vines that, as far as you can tell, aren’t actually fake. A soft, almost jazzy tune filters lightly through the room, complemented by the low hum of chatter and paintbrushes hitting glass. You’re incredibly impressed and, admittedly, you like this place a lot. It has the kind of vibe that just… makes you content. 

“Here we go!” 

You startle at the sound of Taehyung’s low register, looking over to see him placing a bundle of paintbrushes in between the two of you and a jar beside each of your canvases. He takes his seat across from you, smiling brightly. “Did you decide what you want to paint?”

You hum, turning your gaze out the window for a moment to see if it grants you any inspiration— it’s a gorgeous sight, the twilight sky broken by the outline of buildings with glimmering insides, but it doesn’t help much. You don’t know what you want to paint. Of course, there is this big, expanding feeling inside you, the urge to express it somehow filling you to your fingertips, but what do you do with it? You don’t even know its name.

“No,” you answer, reaching for one of the palettes propped up to the side. “But I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just see where the vibe takes me.”

The smile Taehyung gives you at that is softer than most, and he eagerly follows suit in grabbing a palette and beginning to set it up; he squirts a big dollop of white, blinking at it for a moment as though he hadn’t intended to put that much. “There are some pencils and erasers to the side there, too. I prefer the moldable one.”

You thank him for his advice, before realising as he puts his own pencil ever so lightly to canvas that he hadn’t told you the subject of his painting. “What are you going to paint?”

“A secret,” he says, leaning around the canvas to grin at you. “Since I don’t know what you’re painting. Let’s swap paintings after, though. I do want to see eventually.”

That makes you laugh, but you don’t bother pushing further. A surprise is nice every now and then, you know. So long as it’s not the kind that ruins your life as you know it indefinitely.

But you’re here to have fun and relax, so you’re not going to get into that. You’re not even going to think about it. 

Taehyung clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. “Right, before we start we should probably order. Did you—”

“No need, my boy!”

Two new figures appear at the side of the table, one a youthful man on the shorter side, the other older and plumper with grey beginning to speckle through his hair. The shorter one places two drinks onto the table, colourful cocktails in a generous glass, and the older laughs before placing down two plates, each with a different kind of cake slice situated neatly in the middle.

“On the house,” the man continues, chuckling at the shocked and somewhat flustered look on Taehyung’s face. “You’ve given us a lot of business so don’t even worry about it. Plus, we heard you were finally making the most of those vouchers so… here’s a little something to start the night off well!”

“...Thanks, Mr Kang,” Taehyung finally manages, shooting them a smile that could honestly give Hoseok’s own a run for its money. “You too, Kyungsoo. Do…. do I wanna know what’s in this?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks, a somewhat fearful look on his face. The shorter man shakes his head, thick brows curved in mirth as his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. “Nope. Tastes good though, so you got nothing to worry about.”

You can’t tell whether Taehyung is relieved or concerned, and so step in to save him a moment of reprieve. “Thank you so much— this all looks amazing!”

Happily, the two men soak in your praise. “I assure you,” Mr Kang says, patting his chest proudly. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, but doesn’t disagree. He gives the two of you a small smile. “Right, we should be on our way. You two enjoy yourselves, and if you want refills just come let me know.”

Taehyung nods, thanking them again, and then it’s just the two of you once more.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips and reminding you of a puppy as he stares intently at the slice of strawberry crepe cake, decorated with a generous drizzle of syrup and two fresh, sliced strawberries in a dollop of cream beside it. The other one, a coffee-caramel blend you presume from the heavenly aroma reaching your nose, looks just as good but is nowhere near as successful at capturing his attention. “I guess… let’s begin!”

Whether he meant painting or devouring the food, you end up doing a bit of both. Each mouthful of cake that enters your mouth is announced with an explosion of flavour so rich it lingers long after you’ve swallowed the mouthful down. The drinks, too, are delicious. Fruity but not too syrupy or sugary, you suspect Kyungsoo had used spirits and tempered the fruity flavour with a bit of lemon or lime.

You still aren’t really sold on what to paint, but in the meantime you end up sketching out the flowers that sit on the windowsill a little behind Taehyung. They don’t seem too complicated, and if they end up looking terrible you can just smear the canvas with paint and call it abstract. Of course, part of Taehyung’s shoulder cuts the vase off from view so he’s probably going to end up making an unwitting appearance in whatever mess turns up on your canvas. 

Even though neither of you have any idea what Kyungsoo put into those drinks, you’re sure its something strong. Before long the two of you are already giggly, conversation flowing easily as you put paint to canvas and attempt to make something decent. It’s around the time the two of you are almost finishing your drinks that the conversation takes a delightful turn, which consists of Taehyung telling you about his little fluffball, Yeontan.

“Oh my god,” you say, fingers gripping the paintbrush tight as you try to pet the urge to pet a dog that isn’t even here. “He’s so cute! Look at his grumpy little eyebrows!”

Taehyung laughs, having taken a break from painting to show you his dog like a proud parent. He takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket, paint-flecked hand returning to the brush he’d abandoned. “He’s such a smart dog, but he’s also super dumb. Runs into shit all the time. And there was one time that a friend came over and brought a new camera that he hadn’t seen before—”

Taehyung has to pause recounting the story, he starts giggling so hard. It makes you erupt into laughter as well simply because of how contagious the sound is. “He got so mad, he ran in front of me with his little legs and started barking at it like he was trying to protect me. I love that little dog.”

“I love him too and I haven’t even met him,” you giggle, using your pinky (the only finger you’re sure you haven’t gotten paint on yet) to wipe under your eyes. You don’t think you let a tear slip but you’ve been laughing so much you can’t be sure. 

Taehyung beams at you from around his canvas, brush held midair.  “That’s exactly what Jiminie says.”

That gives you pause. “Wait— Jimin hasn’t seen your dog? But you’ve been friends for ages!”

You catch the photographer smiling as he delivers a few soft strokes to his painting, affection hidden in his tone as he responds, “Yeah, a few years. Since… the last? Second last year of high school? Maybe? It was a wild start to the friendship.”

“Wild?” you echo, intrigued. 

“Yeah. What really kick-started our friendship was this one time I came over while Jimin was really upset about something. I can’t remember exactly how it happened but we ended up at some wack university event nearby. It was boring as hell, and somehow we figured the best way to be entertained would be to commit a mild crime and get away with it.”

Once more, the ashy-haired male has to pause his story to get the giggles out of his system, taking the opportunity to sip a little more of his cocktail. You do the same, not one to pass up much of any drink these days. 

“Long story short, he ended up streaking across the field and earning himself a title at the university as ‘mooncheeks’ or something equally dumb and funny, earnt himself a bit of a nude legacy.”

You pause, the alcohol beginning to slow your mind just enough that it takes a little longer for you to connect the dot between his story and something you’d shoved so deep in the back of your mind years ago that you’d almost forgotten it.

“Wait—” you smack your paintbrush down, eyes wide as an accusing finger is thrown his way. “That was— he ran into me on the way back! Oh my god I almost forgot, that was you two?!”

Taehyung erupts into laughter that is an octave or two shy of being too loud, having to place a hand over his chest to brace himself. He’s nodding wordlessly, eyes pinched shut, and it’s probably the alcohol making your eyes blur but for a moment you could almost swear he’s glowing.

“Yeah,” he finally manages to articulate, wiping a stray tear or two from his eyes, sniffling. “It cheered him up, though, so I think it’s worth the potential trauma.”

That makes you laugh, another sip of your drink going down. A lot of the spirits must have settled at the bottom, because this one had a little warmth as it went down. 

The night goes so easily it’s like a dream, the atmosphere and alcohol in combination with Taehyung’s company making you feel much like you did before this whole shitshow, back when it wasn’t so hard to release the tension in your shoulders or to muster a genuine smile. Taehyung happily gets you a few refills, refusing to let you pull out your card— which is probably for the best because you’re not sure where your wallet is and you’re not coordinated enough to look right now.

You’re on the further side of tipsy, teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk where nothing makes sense but you’re still somewhat coherent, and everything is funny. Taehyung has almost dipped his paintbrushes in his drink instead of the jar a few times, resulting in a long round of laughter and sore stomachs each time. Eventually, you’d moved his drink to the other side of the canvas and he’d offered you a sheepish smile. 

Surprisingly, your painting doesn’t look too bad, either. Currently it has a bit of a blurry, undefined quality to it, but in your current opinion it kind of works for it. Taehyung’s shoulder did end up making a feature and as the two of you talk you find yourself distractedly painting patterns in the ‘leather’, swirls and hearts and hell, even a few triangles. Eventually, you reach the point where you think that you really can’t do anything more to make the painting better in the time you have, so with a contented sigh you place your brush down and instead turn your attention to Taehyung.

Even as he talks to you and wobbles a little in place, he’s still so incredibly focused in his work, in every detail that meets canvas at the direction of his nimple finngertips, that you don’t think you even see his hand shaking while he paints. Which, your hand was— a lot. It’s the main factor responsible for this one squiggly flower stem in particular you can see in your painting.

As you sit there, happily listening and laughing at each anecdote Taehyung offers you about his life, you find your mind wandering a little bit. Back to the exhibition, and the works and even the way you caught him regarding them. You recognise the critical lens that he viewed them through, because it’s one you adopt yourself for your own creations. Something wells in you, an urge to reassure him in case he ever had any doubts about his own talent; you’re far too many drinks in to be in a place where you can stop yourself.

“Taehyung,” you begin softly but seriously, with minimal slur. He doesn’t stop his motions, but you see him pause for the briefest moment before humming in acknowledgement. “Taehyung, I have to tell you…”

You’re figuring out how to best word your impression of his works and his talent, but you must take longer than you thought because Taehyung lets out a soft huff, giving you a smile that you can’t quite decipher.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flicking the paintbrush back to rest the wooden stem on his knuckles. “I already know I’m not the muse. You don’t have to worry about convincing me.”

For a second, all you’re able to do is blink. Taehyung simply goes back to his painting, expression neutral and his soft hum brushing your ears beneath the soft melody floating from the speakers. You realise quickly that you don’t know what to say to that, and that the full implications of his words haven’t really sunk in yet. He must have noticed that you’d been trying to go around and convince all the suspected subjects that they aren’t the muse of the poem… you feel oddly ashamed, for some reason. Your cheeks feel hot, and not just from the alcohol flush.

“Done!”

Taehyung’s voice breaks you from your reverie, his cheery smile greeting you once more. “All finished?”

You nod, offering a smile of your own and taking the opportunity to say what you wanted to earlier. “Yep. I’m excited to see yours, you’re so incredibly talented, Tae.”

His smile turns shy at that, a bashful laugh tumbling from his lips as he does his best to clean up his area. You do the same, standing up for the first time in a while and having to reach out and stabilise yourself on the table so you don’t fall. The drinks hit you a little harder than you first thought!

“Thank you,” he finally mumbles a few moments later, collecting the brushes. “I’m excited to see yours, too.”

You let out a short laugh at that, knowing that whatever you threw onto that canvas isn’t going to be able to hold a candle to what he made.

Quicker than you can keep track of, the two of you finish tidying and then before you know it you’re saying your goodbyes to the staff and stepping outside. You shiver at the unexpected breeze that greets you, people along the other side of the street huddling together. It’s a windy night and the breeze carries a bit of a bite.

“Oh, right,” Taehyung starts in place, offering his canvas to you. “Careful, it might still be a bit wet…”

Somewhat mindlessly, you swap paintings with him, smiling brightly before your gaze is drawn to the side. By nothing but absolute chance, it passes over the line in front of a bar popular with students at your university, and you almost blink and move on before your eyes halt in familiarity. At the hands of nothing but stupid luck, there is someone you recognise over there. Yoongi stands, face indicating a loud complaint before it even leaves his mouth, and there are a few others around him that he seems to be with who are laughing as they wait in line.

Your head feels so messy, like the wind has managed to get inside your skull and fling everything about like leaves on the autumn breeze. You’re so distracted in the moment that you don’t see it as Taehyung follows the direction of your gaze, and his expression drops. When you jerk out of your reverie, it’s just in time to see his eyes flicking from your painting, to his, and then back to you.

You’re about to peek at his painting and fill the silence with a compliment, but he beats you to it. Something is different about his expression, and not just because he’s no longer under the warm light of the paint bar. The glow you’d noticed so easily earlier seems to have dimmed a bit.

“Did you figure out the theme of the exhibition?”

At his question you startle, gaze flicking to the side as you try and figure it out on instinct on the spot. You’d completely forgotten to think about it, and considering you spent about as much time looking at him as you did his works while at the exhibition, you can safely determine you’re still nowhere closer to the answer. “Ah… no.”

As though drawn like a magnet, your gaze ends up over in the direction of Yoongi for the briefest second. You struggle to tear it away.

“It’s anaxiphilia.”

Even through the inebriation slowing your thoughts, his words reach you immediately. It’s as though your heart has turned to stone and dropped straight through your chest. That unspeakable, unknown emotion wells and bubbles within you, swelling to twice, thrice its size and blocking words before they can even reach your throat. Your eyes are on Taehyung again, but his are still centred where yours had been— had he also noticed Yoongi? You didn’t know they knew each other...

“Oh,” you finally manage, swallowing down that nameless sensation. Taehyung’s gaze slowly slides back to you, dark eyes full of so much… something, you think it would take you years to unpack and familiarise yourself with it all. 

For a second, the two of you stand with your gazes locked, both of you too deep in your own thoughts to do anything about it. Taehyung is the one that breaks the spell. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t keep you out any longer… There is a bus stop here, and tons of ubers in the area…” His eyes flick away as he talks but return as he murmurs this last bit, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you rush, finally finding your voice amongst the shambles in your head. “Thank you for inviting me, Tae. I really… I really needed this. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling at you, but you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Please get home safe,” he says, and you nod immediately, making his gaze soften. “See you later.”

“Bye! Thank you again!” you wave, Taehyung turning quick and already a decent way down the street after his farewell. He offers a wave over his shoulder and you catch it just in time before you turn back, gaze unconsciously seeking out the familiar figure across the road. Distantly, you observe that Yoongi is no longer in line for the bar and has switched to the bubble tea place a few stores down.

Taehyung’s exhibition and it’s theme swim through your mind, a sudden impulse welling within you in response that spurs your legs into a motion. You’re about to go across the road in a sudden spurt of something like bravery, but for some indecipherable reason, you stop before you can get more than a few feet. You turn your head, gaze thrown over your shoulder, eyes seeking without an explicit goal in mind.

You catch sight of him just before he rounds the corner and disappears from view— even from the back Taehyung presents a handsome figure, but in the split-second you manage to view him, the most notable things about his retreating form is the slumped curve of his shoulders and the lowered angle of his head. He’s gone before you can blink leaving you for good this time with nothing but your messy head and the one thought that swims to the surface that says after seeing him glow in happiness for the better part of the evening, sadness doesn’t suit him much at all. 

Clutching the painting, your turn back to the front and try and focus on the present for just a minute or two, like whether you’re going to catch a bus or uber it home, but each time you start a new thought it always brings you back to the odd mix of guilt swirling deep in your gut. There’s something else there, the familiar hollow pit of yearning, but for once… you can’t quite tell who it’s for. 

a/n: thank u so much for reading! i really hope it was worth the wait and that you look forward the future parts as fox rain begins to slowly draw to a close!! pls let us know u liked it w a like and rb and screaming in our inboxes is always ALWAYS welcome!! thank u !! love u !! <3

[yoonia]

About Time // Part 19

Character: Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

↳ Type/Genre/words | Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au/Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au), Eventual Smut / 13,5k words

↳ Prompts | “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

↳ Summary | Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

↳ Ratings | Mature/+18 and up

↳ Warnings | this chapter contains multiple smut scenes: involving public sex, first time sex, thigh riding, explicit scene of sexual intercourse and intense foreplay (finger fucking, f receiving), mentions of cancer, (probably) inaccurate medical and law terms

↳ Author’s Note | If you find a few scenes within this chapter that seem a bit familiar, perhaps it’s because you have read it before in a different form. The final scene for this chapter was taken from a short drabble that I created during a muse game for this story, with a few adjustments on the scene itself to make it seem more fitting into the timeline. I do hope you’ll enjoy this one. I know there are lots of you who have been waiting for this moment to come :) 

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Song Companion | Live - Lightning Crashes

—Present life, year 2017—

Jimin had become silent ever since the two of us left the pub. But my mind had never been so loud as it was at the moment and it had been this way since I stepped out of that place, leaving behind the memory of his altercations with Jungkook earlier.

Questions after questions kept coming while the events and pieces of the conversation they shared back at the pub continued to replay themselves inside my head.

While Jimin kept his eyes locked on the road, his posture was tense and his grip on the wheel remained hard and tight that I could see his knuckles turning white. I could even begin to faintly hear the sound of its leather cover cracking and pulling beneath his palms. Yet I kept quiet beside him, letting my mind wander as I had my eyes looking away and out the window. I had no idea what to say to him or how to react, while at the same time, I was trying to ignore the way his tension and rage kept rolling out of him in waves as he drove us further and further away from the pub.

Between being afraid that any word I said would come out with accusations, or perhaps being called crazy if I should talk to him about my predicament or to hurt him if I admitted to him why I kept being pulled to Jungkook for some reason, I decided to give him some time and space to calm down. Hoping that maybe once he did, he would be able to talk about it and I would be able to question him.

The silence thickened as each second ticked by, until a deep sigh came out of him, breaking the stillness that had grown between us.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said to me. His voice was soft, and I could feel his remorse lathering every word he said that I could not help but to turn to look at him.

“Sorry? What for?”

He gave me a rueful smile as he glanced my way, briefly, before looking back on the road. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I shouldn’t have let him rile me up the way he did.” He sighed. “I must have ruined the mood for tonight.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue and try to make him feel better. But I held my tongue, knowing that the words might come out wrong and I would probably be pushing his guilt further instead of urging him to move on.

Shaking my head, I told him all that I could say at the moment. “It’s—whatever. It’s fine,” I said, even though there was a huge part of me that begged to understand. But must this night be filled with wondering and analysing things?

Did I really want to know the answers?

Did I really want to know what those words meant? The words Jungkook said which had brought out dizziness that silenced everything running through my head at the point of hearing it?

I may have said that it didn’t matter, but my mind betrayed me by voicing out the questions once again.

Why would he say something like that? Why did they seem to hate each other? Have they met before aside from the night I introduced them together? Or did they know each other before?

Thankfully, neither of those questions had ever slipped my mouth. It was close enough to, but his soft chuckled came out before I could speak and it was enough to silence the voices in my head. Especially when this time, the small smile he was giving me finally reached his eyes even if I could still see his remorse coming out clearer in them. “I promise. I’m not always like this,” he said. He took a hand off of the wheel and rubbed his palm over his face.

My chest tightened when I saw the distress on his face, and the words just came spilling right out of me before ie realised it.

“I know you’re not.”

His eyes grew wide at my words and his gaze came back to me before his smile returned a bit wider. And he was giving me the one smile that was familiar to my eyes, one that was honest and free. The same exact smile that had me falling in love with him in a different lifetime. With its presence, my heart clenched tight the same exact way it did the first time I fell for him. It felt stricken with longing and despair, while at the same time, it was making me feel warm inside.

“And how would you know that?” he asked me.

While there were lots of different answers that I could choose from, one of them being something which could reveal the secrets that I had been keeping away from him, I held my tongue once again. Keeping things to myself before I could ruin this moment.

But I didn’t hold back from reaching out. I rested my hand on his thigh as I whispered with a sigh, “Because I know you, Jimin.”

I felt his body growing tense under my touch for a brief moment, before he easily softened into my touch. So I carried on, telling him what I needed him to hear. Something that according to my memory was the one thing that I had failed to say to him.

“I know that you are not a violent person or anyone who has any vile intentions,” I told him, while images of Jimin confronting Jungkook at the pub blended together with the sight of him fighting Jungkook at a hospital, something that had come into my dreams more than once. “Anyone else would snap when confronted and riled up the same way it did to you. I’m not putting the blame on anyone but the situation, but you had handled it really well.”

His shoulders fell down with relief and I felt lighter, glad to be able to somewhat reassure him and change the mood after he was feeling down ever since we left. Before I could pull my hand away, Jimin placed his hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Laughing a little, I squeezed his hand in return and tried to lighten the mood further. “Now, I also believe that someone had promised me a good night.”

He chuckled without looking away from the road. Though his eyes glistened with a promise and hope in them. “That I did,” he hummed softly, taking my hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss on my wrist before letting me rest my palm on his thigh once again. “I’m taking you to a place that I know you would love. At least, I hope you would.”

“I trust you. As long as I’m with you, I know I’d be happy,” I told him truthfully, knowing that it was exactly how I felt whenever I was with him.

The conversation felt lighter once Jimin had gotten everything that was bothering him out of his chest.

As he continued to drive, we talked about how the whole day went—about his day in campus and his practice, about my job interview and the day I spent with his cousin—sans the part about my meeting with Taehyung since we avoided bringing up any event regarding the pub earlier once again.

The drive felt far and long. The night was getting late, yet I didn’t mind being out so late at all when he made me feel completely safe when I was with him. This trip reminded me of the night he took me out to the city park on new year’s eve, where he took me up to the hill overlooking the city. Except that I knew the destination we were heading tonight was going to be further away from the place where he first kissed me and asked me to be his girlfriend.

It seemed like a long time ago when in fact only months had passed since then. It sure felt like I had been with Jimin for a lifetime when everything just seemed right when we were together.

I kept my hand resting on his lap as he drove on, letting him brush against it once or twice as we talked during the drive. The city passed by alongside us. We had somehow passed the main roads from the city and into the highway, and he kept on driving until the city lights became few and far in between, the buildings that had filled our view out the window were replaced by trees. Then he drove out of the highway, until we were surrounded by nothing but dirt and rock and the asphalt road slowly turned into gravel pathways with scrub bushes lining up on our sides.

“Where are we?” I asked him curiously as the terrain we were passing by turned rough, joined by a few bumps over ruts and ridges as we drove away from the main road and the path started to ascend to a higher altitude.

“Someplace quiet,” he simply said, giving me a secretive smile as the mirth in his eyes grew stronger.

I should be worried or concerned to find us driving to a strange place outside of town. But I only grew curious. The excitement came over me just as the road in front of us cleared out to an opening. The car had been driving further up until we reached to a certain plateau located right at the top of the rocky hills, way higher than the place he had once taken me to look over the cityscape. Way higher than any place that we had ever gone to. As Jimin slowed the car to a halt, I looked out to see the lines of trees and the edge of the cliff opening up to a broad sky over the horizon, the blanket of city lights covering the lower ground was nothing compared to the bright night sky above and the sparkling stars that seemed to welcome our presence.

“It’s not perfect or glorious, but I know that this is the place that you would love the most. A high place, quiet, where you could watch the wide sky above and the stars painting the sky—”

Before he could finish his sentence, I turned to him, finishing his words with a grateful smile and with my heart swelling in warmth, “—an open space where I could breathe the clean, fresh air.”

He turned to look at me. The warm gaze he was giving me spoke a thousand words. The questions were still there, hanging right at the tip of my tongue, but I brushed them away.

Enjoy the moment, I remembered Taehyung said. Enjoy the present. You will find your answers there.

“You were right. You knew exactly what I’d love.”

Jimin leaned in, pressing his lips against mine. His kiss was gentle but enough to bring forth the heat in my belly to want more. But he pulled back before I could have my fill, handing me a blanket to carry.

“Come. We haven’t seen the best part of it yet.”

My eyes grew wide. “We haven’t? You mean there’s more other than you taking me to a secluded place where you could hide me and nobody would find my body?”

Jimin’s head fell back as he laughed. “That sounds tempting, though you were right about this place being secluded,” he said, teasing me with another kiss that was gentle and chaste, letting me have a quick taste with a promise for more. “It’ll be nobody here but us.”

“I bet,” I whispered against his lips. I brushed my hands on the blanket he gave me, just as he reached for another that seemed thick enough for us to lay on top of. “Don’t tell me that we’re going to camp out.”

“Close, but not quite. I remember promising you dinner too,” he teased, giving me a wink before he reached out to the backseat, pulling a whole bag of groceries onto his lap, filled with snacks, chocolate bars, two bottles of mineral water, and best of all, microwave heated mini-market bought lunchboxes. “Our fancy dinner.”

I laughed and kissed him on his cheek. “Perfect.”

This side of the mountains would probably have been scorching hot under the sunlight if Jimin had taken me here during the daytime.

Tonight, however, the sky was clear enough to show all the bright stars overhead. The air was a bit cold and windy, but not so much that it would make me wish we were cuddled up inside his warm car instead of out here in the open air.

Jimin kept a tight hold of my hand as he led me tramping around the landed bushes, jumping over and around a few rocks that we came upon on our path, before we reached the embankment that Jimin had pointed out to when we first arrived in this place. Jimin climbed ahead and pulled me up with him. There was a flat rock on the top, wide enough for us to sit and lie down on, and safe enough to set out our small picnic without being afraid of getting too close to the edge.

This far high up, I could see the plateau over the edge, a wide flat space between hills and valleys, with sparkles of lights coming from the houses and small buildings located down there. I was filled with all nerves and anticipation, the joy of being up and above was mixed together with the fear of falling. But then I looked up at Jimin, and it made me feel all better knowing that we were here together. That he would be there by my side, ready to catch me before I could ever fall down.

We straightened the blanket on top of the flat rock and laid back, looking up at the sky above.

Being there under all of those stars made me feel small and insignificant, as if everything that I had to face and deal with, all the concerns I have had, they all meant nothing. Just a small blip in the universe. A mystery to unfold but never a necessity as we continued to exist.

As if being thrust back into the past had no significant value compared to everything else in this whole universe.

Being under the wide open space overlooking a small part of the universe really brought me to look at things in a new perspective, and suddenly, everything that Taehyung had told me finally made sense.

There was no point in dwelling in the past or the future that had been supposedly written for me or what I was trying to rewrite for myself. What mattered was now, this moment. I looked to my side to find Jimin lying on his side, looking at me. While it felt like I was the only person in the world when I looked up at the sky with all of my concerns weighing me down, looking at him made me feel less lonely. We could be the only two people in the world, and I found there was no need to change any of it all.

“You have that look again,” he mused softly, holding back a smile as he kept his eyes on me.

“What look?”

The smile broke through, and his eyes were filled with mirth when he answered, “The kind of look that tells me you are overanalysing things that are happening.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile, all while holding back from leaning in and kissing his plump lips the way I wanted to. “Do I make that look a lot?”

He merely shrugged. “Sometimes. I’d usually let you because I like seeing all the expression you make.”

There was an emotional tug happening inside my chest. I had gotten used to it at this point to know that it only happened whenever he was around. Whenever I was with him.

“Didn’t know that you’ve been pretty observant,” I could only muse as he grew closer. Our shoulders touching as he leaned in.

“It’s not hard,” he said. “All I had to do was pay attention. A lot of attention. And it’s easy to do that when I’m with you.” He licked his lips when he stopped talking, looking down on mine before meeting my gaze again. “You’re the only one I want to look at the whole time.”

Everything around us was dark, but for some reason, I could still see his face, as if the moonlight and all the stars above had served like multiple spotlights to illuminate him for me. He was probably seeing my face the same way, with limited lights helping him to find me. I could feel his warm breath before I noticed just how much closer he was.

“Will I miss if I try to kiss you right now?” he jokingly whispered to me when his lips were practically brushing against mine already.

I couldn’t help the laughter that came out so easily. “It is pretty dark around here,” I told him, whispering as I tried to reach out, finding his jaw with the tip of my fingers. The night did seem to grow darker at this point. Or perhaps it didn’t feel this way before when he weaved his way through the pathway, using only the flashlight from his phone to guide us. “Should I reach for the flashlight?”

He hummed. “There is no need,” he whispered, before pressing his lips at the tip of my nose. “I can always find you, even in the dark.” Then his lips finally found mine, and I welcomed him with a sigh as I sank down against him on top of the blanket.

His mouth felt like home. His kiss was warm, enough to help me forget about all of my concerns, all of the questions that had been circling in my head. None of them mattered anymore, when he was here, he was real, his hands moving gently up and down the curves and lines on my body over my soft sweater while he slowly pulled me to him, deepening the kiss in the process.

I was breathless when he pulled away, giving me a moment to take a deep breath and control my heartbeat. My palms had somehow found their way onto his chest, pressing down on where his heartbeat was pacing to the touch and the warmth we shared.

The wind blew across the valley, passing us both to remind us about the cool night air. So he pulled another blanket around us, covering us both from the chill autumn breeze. Only to have me grounded further later as he swiftly moved on top of me, his mouth making a trail of kisses from my lips, down to my jawline, then he slowed down as he traced the column of my throat.

His hand made its way to the hem of my sweater, tugging and pulling before he pulled it up so he could touch my bare belly beneath it. While his hand kept tracing upward, finding the elastic band of my bra, his lips continued tracing downward. He laid his head on my chest for a moment, closing his eyes as he listened to my heartbeat. He looked up to me after a moment and he kept his gaze on me when he pressed his lips on my covered breasts, capturing the covered tip between his mouth, releasing it when I sighed only to move to the other.

Weaving my fingers through the strands of his hair, I arched my back, giving him more as his hand slid in and tweaked a nipple from beneath my sweater. In a flashing moment, my sweater was gone, and nothing was getting in the way for him to finally taste my skin. I cried out as his fingers and his mouth worked together, pinching and biting, tuning my whole body as if he knew just which buttons to touch, to play with, to tweak, just to thrust me into the peak of my pleasure.

It didn’t take long before he brought me there, surges of bliss rushing all over my body, centered right at my core where the pulse felt the strongest, where the heat of my body pooled together into a puddle.

His eyes found me again when he brushed away the lacy front of my bra, pushing it down so he could reach more skin. My body was moving against his, my hips rolling in circles in the same rhythm as the pulse that kept rising between my legs. With my legs spread, I pressed my center against his thigh, searching for release by brushing myself against him and I could feel his muscles tensing against me as he pressed himself back to me for a short moment before he continued to move down. My fingers had somehow found their way back through his hair, where I clutched him tight, keeping him close to me at all times even as he was crawling down on me.

His lips spoke of promises and sin, and he revels in the sounds I was making to every bit of ministration he was giving me.

I felt it through his warm breath that came trailing down my skin as he continued climbing lower, his grunts coming out softly with each kiss he gave on my skin. His fingers kept dancing down my curves, as if he wanted to engrave every inch of my skin into his mind, even all the goosebumps that came out from the mixture of his warmth and the cold air around us.

He kissed his way down along my hip bone, his hands were getting busy to unbutton my jeans, freeing me further from any restraints. I lifted my hips when he tugged the waistband lower, only so that he could push my pants away. He swiftly moved his hand between my legs, delving into my panties, until he finally found the source of my pulsing heat.

His fingers danced their way down teasingly at my mound, before he found the cleft and gently spread them open for him, letting him touch me where I needed him the most. His fingers moved around the bundle of nerves hiding between my folds, circling around it until I could hear the slickness of my arousal as he gathered every drop with the tip of his fingers. Each gentle brush he gave sent fireworks through my body, the pleasure kept on rising more and more.

I cried out when he pushed a finger against the slick opening. His thumb pressing down on my throbbing clit as he inched deeper, pushing slowly through the pulsing walls. I barely felt him pushing my jeans and panties lower, exposing me to him. Then his soft tongue licked down between my folds, tasting my essence just as he continued to work his fingers inside my walls to make me release more.

“Jimin!” I called out when he took my swelling clit between his mouth, doing it so before I felt a hint of pressure when he added a finger into my pussy, pushing in and pumping softly. He stopped when he found restraint, pulling back only to push back and reach further inside, letting my walls clench tight around his digits.

“Relax for me, baby,” he grunts against my hot cunt, placing his free hand on my belly to push my hips back down when I had been pushing myself up against his mouth, tensing my muscles at the same time.

Opening my eyes to look down, I found him looking at me with a heated gaze. Hunger and lust were mixed together with the kind of look which had my heart turning warm. I released a deep exhale and let my body relax beneath him.

“Good girl,” he whispered to me, before he came back down, planting his mouth right between my legs again and expertly finding my clit for him to devour. “Now, don’t hold back on me, love. Let go and let me taste you.”

With that, his mouth came back to my nether lips, another finger came to join the others as he worked them in and out of my pussy, sending my legs trembling around his head, my fingers tightening on his hair to hold him down. My hips moved in circles, swivelling and dancing with the same rhythm he made on me to chase the surge of pleasure that continued to rise.

He kissed, licked, bit, all the while pumping his digits continuously against the sweet spot right through the hot entrance of my cunt, and I was instantly thrust into the edge. My climax came to me like a wave of warmth slowly building from my center and flowing around my body. Enveloping me with pure pleasure that had me screaming out into the wind.

A whisper of the cold breeze came upon me just as I shuddered into his mouth, an instant reminder of where we were.

I opened my eyes just as I had his fingers locked tight inside me, my pussy clenching him tight, his mouth locking tight around my clit. As I saw the ocean of stars above our heads, a surreal moment came upon me. It felt like I was flying high, drunk in pleasure and bliss with the stars around us and the moonlight lighting us both.

The sinful thought of him pleasuring me under the wide sky above and of being exposed to the universe pushed me back into another climax, thrusting me off the precipice of my orgasm that I couldn’t even cry out for it being too much for me to handle.

With a gasping sound, I embraced the pure pleasure. Letting myself to be brought up high with his touch, feeling free and elated at the same time as my orgasm came to me in smooth spasms, humming through my body, giving me the most beautiful feeling I have ever felt in the world.

Once the spasms of my release waned down to a shiver, Jimin gathered me in his arms. His touches soothed me as he gently tugged my jeans back in place. He pressed his kisses on my skin as he pulled my sweater back down, covering me from the cold.

“Should I get you warm? Or should I take you home?” he whispered, his lips brushing on my temple before he looked down at me, his eyes glinting with his desire. The haze in my head dissipated under the one word that had me clutching his shirt tight, anchoring him to me to let me know that I was not dreaming.

Home.

Glimpses of my dreams came back to me just then, and once again, I was swamped by a flood of warmth. Hope and love filled my heart, and the answer was clear.

“Take me home.”

—Present life. Jimin’s Apartment, year 2017—

His studio apartment had always felt warm and cozy.

But this night, it felt different. The good kind of different. No matter how often I had spent my time here, sleeping here almost every night instead of back in my dorm, it never truly felt like home unless he was there with me, holding me tight to him. Because he was my home. And though this place was every bit of his, I would still need him as my anchor.

Over the past few months, I had been leaving my things behind, marking my territory in his apartment. Tonight, as we entered his home with his arms wrapped around me, his kisses distracting me from looking around us, I found that the air was filled with the scent of my perfume. It washed over me so suddenly that I broke away from the kiss only to glance around, making sure that we were actually in the right place.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered huskily as he caught my jawline with his mouth simply because he couldn’t stay away.

“Nothing,” I whispered in return, pressing my palms on his chest as I looked around for a few more seconds, sighing dreamily as I caught the sight of the foot of his bed on the far corner before finally letting myself melt into him. “I just—”

I looked up to him, catching his eyes looking down at me with wonders in them. “Your room smells like me.”

Jimin chuckled. “It does. And I love it,” he whispered, giving me a soft peck on the lips before he sheepishly confessed, “Sometimes, when you’re not sleeping here, I’d spray a bit of your perfume into my pillows so it would feel like you were there. I let your perfume sticks around more than mine because I want to feel your presence here.”

I gave him a dubious look. “Oh, Jimin,” I laughed. “That sounds a tad bit creepy yet also endearing I don’t even know how to feel.”

He laughed with me, his head falling back when he did. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

I placed a palm on his cheek, urging him to look at me again before I could kiss his cheek. “I actually like the fact that I’ve marked your place not only with my things but with everything else too.”

He caught my lips in his for a brief moment. “You’re welcome to do more than marking,” he said, suddenly looking a bit hesitant to continue.

“Really?” I asked him, teasingly feigning innocence to him. “Is this your way of asking me to move in with you?”

His lips twitched but he held back his smile. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

His grin slowly came back, even if his eyes kept glancing away with uncertainty before he finally spoke. “Move in with me.”

I felt my eyes sting. There was something about all of this that made me want to cry. Like there was something inside me that was slowly coming together. Which was why the answer came out easily. “I’d love to. My home is with you, Jimin.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, his gentle smile came back onto his face and I couldn’t stop myself from brushing my lips over his. The quick peck on his lips turned into a hungry kiss when he pressed me tightly against him and kissed me back. I felt his chest rumbling with a deep grunt just as my knees started to turn into jelly. What held me up were his arms around me, keeping me pressed to him before I could even attach my arms around him.

“Take me to bed, Jimin,” I said, breaking the kiss with a sigh.

When I pulled back to pull him into his bedroom, he groaned and refused to let me go. With his arms tightening around my waist, he carried me up, making me kick off my shoes and wrap my legs around his waist as he began to take me into the bedroom, hastily kissing my lips on the way there.

Jimin was almost breathless when he laid me down onto the bed, then climbed up to follow me after kicking his own shoes off. He didn’t wait long before capturing my lips on his again, pinning me right at the center of his bed as if he was afraid I would run away.

“Are you tired?” he asks me softly as he nipped on my jawline, giving me a moment to breathe.

“Kinda. Why?”

He sighed. “I just—you are so irresistible.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Who? Me?”

Instead of answering me, he lowered his head, kissing the side of my neck and I felt all the goosebumps forming on my skin. It was almost the same as they did when he touched me under the clear night sky. Except that it was no longer windy and I was still terribly sensitive to every touch he gave me. “I want to make love to you so bad,” he whispered, not bothering to wait until I responded when he bit down playfully on the exposed skin right above the neckline of my sweater.

He splayed his hand on my stomach, the warmth of his touch seeping through my sweater. Then his hand slipped under the hem, stroking my bare skin, sending tremors through me as he reminded me of how he touched me before.

“You already gave me so much pleasure and made me cum under the stars,” I said to him, my voice shaking and breathless as I arched against his palm.

“I certainly did—” he said, giving me a lazy grin. There was a hint of pride glowing in his eyes, no doubt reminiscing on how he brought me up to bliss right at the top of the hills, where only he and I existed.

Already, my body grew hot with need, calling him to touch me again. His delicate fingers tracing along my belly and up to my breasts felt good, but it was nothing compared to when he slid his fingers down, drifting lower until he could slide under the waistband of my jeans and under my panties so effortlessly as if he already knew every curve and every ridge of my body to find his way.

Jimin pressed his lips at my ear, nibbling gently as he pressed his fingers into my folds, spreading me open. My breath became a rush of short pants as I rocked into his touch and he began stroking me, giving me long, firm thrusts that sent electric shocks up my spine and liquified my bones almost instantly. My hips rolled against his hand and the pleasure peaked incredibly fast, as I was still too sensitive after the intense pleasure he gave me tonight, after what we had shared back on the rocks, after what he made me feel. My panties were still wet, and it was about to get even more drenched as he kept touching me with all the right ways he knew just exactly how to.

“Oh god—” I moaned while my body kept moving on its own accord, seeking release to the mounting pleasure rising inside me. “Jimin, please—”

“So sweet. You always look so pretty when you cum. When you release your climax on my fingers or my tongue,” he murmured while scraping his teeth on my skin, tasting me. “I want you so bad, _____.”

He pushed his fingers inside, pressing his thumb on my clit, and I gasped and shuddered as white pleasure came shooting through me. It came in waves, much softer than the one he gave me before, but it was still enough to send my body quaking in his arms. As I came down, I found myself lying on my back. Jimin was hovering on top of me, licking his fingers clean with a few soft moans rumbling from deep within his throat. Each sound he made rocked something inside me that I felt the urge to touch him.

So I pulled him down on me, kissing his lips hungrily before muttering softly. “Take me, Jimin.”

I kissed him again before he could say a thing, relishing on the taste of his mouth on mine. He had been giving me so much pleasure that I wanted to give it all back to him, to get him naked and vulnerable the same way he did to me on the rocks, or any other times I was with him. The idea of touching him until he would be lost in his pleasure sent shivers down my body. I remembered the beautiful look on his face that he would make when he embraced his pleasure, the wonder in his eyes and the smile that it brought him, and I wanted to see it all again.

Then he suddenly pulled back, his eyes lost in wonders already as he took me in silently. His eyes looking so dark and deep that I felt him embracing me with his gaze.

“What are you thinking?” My voice was hoarse, already deeply affected by him.

“I’m thinking—” he whispered, licking his lips as he ran his gaze down on me one last time before meeting my eyes again. “—that I’m going to take off your clothes, piece by piece.” He reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear, something that I had found to be the small gesture that he loved to do when he touched me, then trailed his fingers down my neck, feeling my pulse pacing beneath his fingertips.

“I’ll kiss you everywhere, taste every inch of your bare skin. And then I’m going to sink inside you so deep you will remember me being a part of you.” His palm rested on my cheek and he leaned in. His eyes were hooded when he looked at me, letting me see the clear desire burning in them when he whispered huskily, “And then, when you come, I’ll make you feel so good that the only thing coming out of your lips would be my name. In fact, I’ll make sure that everyone will hear you when you call my name as I make you come.”

“Jimin—”

My heart raced inside my chest. My whole body was throbbing with excitement, but there was a bit of fear between them as well. I have waited for this moment for a long time, yet the fear of making all the same mistakes, the fear of losing him, everything had always come together to send me to the borders of pain that were so intense that I had always kept holding back.

And now, as he kept telling me everything he wanted to do to me, all the sinful things he wanted to show me as he showed me what he truly felt for me, I knew then that I needed him more than ever.

Jimin lowered his mouth to my exposed neck when I couldn’t find the will to speak, sucking on my pulse, pulling me back to the present while chasing away all of my fears. I knew that I loved him. I always had. And every kiss that he gave me reminded me of that feeling, while he showed me just how much I could trust him. With every kiss he gave me, I slowly began to relax, relishing on the gentle current of pleasure that was beginning to grow stronger inside me I could no longer feel anything but.

His hands dropped to the hem of my sweater and skimmed up to my ribs. As promised, despite the filthy thoughts he placed into my head, he was gentle. Moving so slowly while never looking away, keeping his gaze on my face, on my eyes, as he continued to read through my expression to see if he was crossing the line that I was not ready to go over. That was when I knew that he would always take care of me, just like every single time we were together.

Through my memories, I knew that he had always put me first above all else. The days that I had spent with him had always shown me that he was still the same, so I trusted him for putting me first tonight as he reached up, caressing my breasts through the flimsy fabric of my bra.

His gentle touch played with my mounds until I felt a tight ache forming right at both tips, while at the same time, his kisses traced my pulse along my neck, sending heat pooling between my legs.

“I love touching you like this,” he whispered, making me moan as he slipped my bra down and his hands were on my bare breasts, stealing my breath as he pinched the nipples one at a time. With his touch, the electric currents I felt instantly picked up, rising from my breasts and down to my core.

Then he started peeling my clothes off—my sweater, my bra, making good of his words while kissing every inch of skin that was exposed to his eyes. His lips were soft against my skin when he returned after tossing my clothes away, making me sigh at the connection as he kept climbing down to my chest. But as he licked at the tip of my breast, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck, I arched into his mouth, wanting him to take more.

His hands traced down as he continued to nibble on my sensitive bud and tugged at my jeans. Through my hazy mind, I felt him pulling them off and down my legs, together with my panties, until I was finally completely bare beneath him.

He bent over me, kissing his way down, brushing his lips over my belly, lightly tracing his hot kisses until he reached to my thighs.

“Jimin—I need to touch you,” I whispered, reaching out to his shoulders to let him know just how much I needed to feel his body on mine.

He looked up to me with hooded eyes and a lazy grin. He pushed himself up and began to drag his shirt off, revealing his bare chest to me. He stepped back and climbed off of the bed so he could slide his jeans down his hips together with his briefs, and I immediately lost my train of thoughts. His cock jumped up, bumping against his belly when he straightened himself up. The sight of his length bare and twitching made my core throb. I knew he could see what he did to me when his grin returned and he stroke himself for me.

Jimin opened his eyes to the sound of my soft moan, locking his gaze on mine, giving me his devastating half-smile when he saw me reacting to the sight of him touching himself. He reached over to grab a condom from his pocket, deftly tearing the foil open and swiftly slipping it on before coming back to me.

He leaned over me, stretching his body over mine, and my mind went blank for a moment before I blinked and realised that it was truly happening. His arousal that was pressing hot against my belly became proof that this was real. That he was real.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look, lying naked under me,” he softly whispered, brushing his mouth over my cheek, my jaw, then coming back onto my lips. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I want you, Jimin. I want this,” I practically begged him, whining when he pulled back and his lips left my skin.

I’ve wanted this for so long. The words rang inside my head, but I bit my lips to stop myself from saying it out loud. But he must have seen something in my eyes that was telling him just how much I meant every word I said, because I felt it when he finally let go every bit of his inhibitions, and something else grew in his gaze.

Looking deep into my eyes, Jimin made me a promise that had me almost crying. “I’ll be careful. And do things gently so I won’t hurt you.”

Blinking the tears away, I reached out to cup his face. “I’m not made of glass, Jimin.”

He smiled, looking both sad and relieved when he sighed and whispered, “I know you’re not.”

Jimin kissed me again, taking it slowly and gently this time. Then he was pressing into me, his hand reaching between us to guide himself at the center of my heat. He kept whispering my name as he slowly pushed in, spreading me apart as he slid deeper, stopping briefly to kiss my lips to distract me right before he suddenly gave a little push, filling me up entirely with his girth. It was shocking and painful and amazing at the same time that I couldn’t even make a sound. The only thing that came out of my lips was a breathless cry, and my body arched towards him instead of moving away. Soothing me from the shock, Jimin began kissing my neck, my breasts, my mouth, until I finally began to relax and the pain began to fade. I felt full and hyperaware of his existence inside. The thought of our bodies joining together made me clench around him tightly. As if my body wanted to keep him there.

“How are you doing?” he asked me, his voice sounded strained as he held very still on top of me, afraid to move and to hurt me by moving too soon.

But I was no longer hurting.

As the pulsing pain began to form into something else entirely new, something else that felt wonderful, I gave him a reassuring smile to stop him from worrying. “I’m okay. You can continue now.”

My answer made him chuckle, then he exhaled softly before beginning to shift. His hands were pressing onto the bed, then one moved to my hips to hold me as he began pulling out, pushing back inside, moving steadily slow at first before the muscles inside my walls allowed him to move more easily.

“You feel so good, ______. So fucking good around me,” he grunted, and his pace began to pick up.

With each drag of his hardness inside me, the pleasure mounted gradually. A throbbing, maddening pulse began to rise from the depth of my core, rising along with the pressure coiling around my middle, sending me breathless, my brain was muddled as it was thrust into a certain height of bliss.

As my body adjusted and I was slowly getting used to the rising rush of pleasure, my hips were lifted against him and I clutched at his back, drawing him deeper inside.

“Fucking hell, _______,” he cursed as I clenched, gritting his teeth before he increased his pace, pumping his cock in and out of me more frantically until my head spin and his body grew tight against me.

He was close, I could feel it. Just as I was coming close to my own end.

Kissing me again, Jimin tried to make it last by kissing my nipples, my neck, taking my mouth again to swallow the moans that I didn’t even realise I was making. I must have been calling for his name in the midst of crying in pleasure because I could feel him smiling into the kiss.

“You drive me fucking crazy, _____,” he whispered against my mouth while continuing to work on his hips, pounding gently into me even though his pace had grown more rapidly than it did before. “I don’t know how long I could last. You’re so tight around me.”

“I—I think I’m close. Come together with me, Jimin.”

He thrust his cock inside me again and again, every time he came back it felt better than the last when the tip of his shaft pushed through my walls until he reached so deep, right the hilt. Jimin let out a moan and rolled his hips while I continued to move mine, chasing him and chasing our release together.

He rocked inside me, going as deep as he could reach until I cried out his name. I clenched tight around his cock and he pounded straight into me, hitting all the right spots, sending me jolts of pleasure with each thrust which then became my undoing.

Sparks came shooting up from my core just as he began twitching between my clenching walls. The feeling of him quaking inside me set me on fire. The flame of my pleasure burning me deep inside before I finally plunged over the edge. My orgasm must have triggered his own to come, as the moment I cried out his name with each intense pulse of my climax, he erupted inside me and into the condom with a deep groan, a soft whimper following behind as the spasms of his release rocked him to the core.

It took a while until the waves of my climax began to come down into smaller spasms. It took his soft touches and his gentle kisses to bring me back, to help me open my eyes until I saw him. Somehow, I must have blacked out. Because he was already lying on my side, his heartbeat still rapid as I rested my head on his chest, while my own body was still humming with the remnants of my climax.

“Are you okay, baby?”

I closed my eyes, refusing to let my tear drop when the first thing he did after our first lovemaking was to make sure that I was doing alright. Sighing contently, I looked up to his face and gave him a smile.

“That was amazing,” I whispered to him, pressing my lips on his bare chest while pressing my body tightly against him, just so I could feel his warmth around me.

I felt his lips brushing against my temple. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asked me as he tilted my chin up, making me return his gaze.

“No, it felt so good.” I swallowed deeply, making sure that my voice would stay steady when I said the words that had been hanging right at the tip of my tongue ever since the moment he claimed me. “I love you, Jimin.”

He sighed deeply. “I love you too, _____,” he whispered. Then he kissed my lips, gently, before finally letting me go once he realised just how exhausted I was. “Go to sleep, _____. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised me, kissing my face as he bid me goodnight and started pulling the blanket to cover our bodies, still naked and entangled on his massive bed.

With my body growing lax, the exhaustion engulfed me like a tidal wave and I began to slip away into slumber with his arms around me. Too tired to even say goodnight to him, I kissed his palm when he ran his fingers through my hair. The last thing I felt was his lips pressing gently on the top of my head. I barely heard his voice, already falling into my dreamless sleep when he faintly whispered to me—

“I’ve waited for you and for this moment for a long time.”

—First life. St. Vincent’s Hospital, year 2027—

“Are you sure you will be okay with this?”

I tilted my head as I waited for his answer. Jimin merely gave me a meek smile, his eyes were drooping lazily as he returned my gaze. Funny how the situation had turned around. When only a few weeks ago, he was the one who first came into my room, asking for my permission to join me in my bed. Tonight, I was the one waiting for him to invite me in, while he was the one who needed the companion.

“I’m sure,” he whispered softly with his voice sounding low and hoarse, as if he needed everything in him just to get those words out of his lips. “In fact, I’m sure you will only make it better,” he chuckled lightly as he patted the side of the bed.

I looked away, following his dainty hand, thin and sickly pale that it almost matched the colour of his linen sheets. The sight nearly broke me down that I had to close my eyes before I could look into his eyes again. Just as our gazes met, he must have seen the hesitance building up inside me, because he slowly began to shift on the bed and scoot backwards, leaving a small space beside him just enough for me to squeeze in.

His movement was careful, doing his best to shift around under the restraint of the infusion tubes attached to his arm. Settling on his side as he waited for me to climb on top of the bed, I could hear him breathing heavily, letting me know just how much that subtle move had already drained enough of his energy.

“Come here,” he said, patting the empty side of the bed once again to beckon me close. “Don’t worry, they change the sheets every time they have a chance to.”

I gave him a light scoff, chuckling softly on his effort to make a light joke. As if I had to be reminded of the hospital’s routines when I had to endure and witness all the same thing as well. Jimin’s eyes kept forcing themselves to close, yet he was persistent, holding back from dozing off just to make sure he would see me come to bed with him. So I gave in. With a sigh, I set up the IV stand that I had dragged along with me all the way from my room to be next to his bed, before I crawled on top of it. It was a struggle to climb up, as I had to maneuver everything from locking my wheelchair in place, to pushing myself up and onto the bed. My flimsy pyjamas kept getting in the way while my stiff back made it hard for me to move easily. I was glad to have taken enough painkillers to numb down the pain, even if it was just a tad, or else I wouldn’t even be able to move at all with how strained my spine had become for the past few weeks.

“Be careful,” Jimin whispered when I let out a hiss the moment I pulled my legs up. I responded only with a smile and a soft murmur of, “I’m okay,” as I held back the pain and settled down beside him, trying not to make him too worried about me when he already had too much to deal with in his current condition. It took me a while, with careful shifts and turns, before I finally managed to lie down next to him.

As we laid on our sides, facing each other with our hands entangled together, I let myself get lost in his eyes while he kept his gaze locked on me. For a moment, everything else around us seemed to disappear, just like how it always had been whenever we held on to each other like this. Every painful moment of our battles against our demons, the illness that was eating up our souls from within, seemed so far away. His painful treatments and therapies, the forthcoming life-threatening surgery I was set to deal with within the next few weeks, all seemed irrelevant.

All the fright and pain seemed insignificant compared to his warmth and comforting touch, but I still held his hand tightly in mine, afraid that he may disappear once I let go.

Being in this hospital for a long time, everything around us had become redundant. We had somehow gotten used to the scents, the mixture of antiseptics and drugs, all the voices coming from the hallways even as we were asleep at night, and the chill temperature in our rooms that had always felt like ice picking into our skin. Even the pain that we both had to endure became a part of us, expected but never welcomed, as if they would always be there, the eerie reminders of why the both of us had ended up in this place together.

Yet everything became bearable because of Jimin. Because we had each other.

By now, the nurses and doctors no longer found it odd to find us sleeping side by side at night. A few requests had even been made to have us being roomed together to make it easier for us to be with each other, since the night trips down the hallways to each other’s rooms had started to become obstacles that were getting in the way of our recovery.

But every trip, even with its pain and exhaustion, had been worth it. Our nights together had kept us strong. They gave us both hope, something to look forward to.

Even when the days like this one would come, when either one of us would be taken away for our special ’treatments’ and ‘test runs’, before we were returned into our rooms only half of what we were before we had left.

“How was it?” I bit my lip the moment I realised that I was questioning him the one thing I knew he would be most reluctant to talk about. I knew how hard the day had been for him, because I had been there too. Despite my worries, I wasn’t sure if making him relive everything that he had gone through today would be a good idea, but sometimes talking about it helped, which was why it came almost instinctively for me to let him talk about it.

When his gaze was shadowed with disdain, I instantly regretted for even asking. Yet, he quickly smiled, chuckling lightly with his eyes closed before he answered, “It was marvellous. Astounding, joyful, completely relaxing. My whole body feels light, just like air, and now I am as strong as ever.”

The last words he said was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. When he opened his eyes again, they were glowing with unshed tears, and my chest tightened.

“It was that bad, huh?” I could feel my throat tightening, my voice cracked as I held back my tears. I hated what his treatments would do to him. Nobody should wake up early in the morning only to face an entire day of painful procedures. The only reprieve I could have about him getting through them was knowing that these procedures were the ones keeping him alive, giving him more time to fight as they tried their best to find the exact cure to free Jimin from his demons.

“I survived. There is nothing more fun than having people pricking and poking on your skin, and needles being jabbed through your tailbones,” he stopped, his lips twitching as he grimaced in defeat, as if he could still feel everything happening as he was talking about it. “At least I didn’t have to see it when they drew the blood from my be—”

I stopped him from finishing the sentence by pushing myself forward and landing a kiss on his lips. It startled him at first, before he sighed and returned them. Our dry lips meshed together into one in a delicate manner, too afraid to add any more pressure as either of us refused to hurt the other, even if we were desperate for one another.

His smile was present when I pulled back. His gaze softened as he opened his eyes, the pain and anger he felt almost gone when he looked at me. I didn’t move too far away, staying close with my hands on his chest just to feel our bond.

“I’m sorry for asking,” I told him, lowering my eyes to avoid his gaze. The next thing I felt was his chapped lips pressing on my forehead.

“It’s okay. A kiss can always make it better,” he said to me with a grin. My shoulders started to fall with relief, my fingers tracing the collar line of his pyjama top absentmindedly until I grazed his skin, and felt his prominent collarbone under the tip of my fingers.

“Don’t—” he hissed, surprising me enough that I started to pull my hand away with guilt. Except that he caught my hand before I could and kept it there. As I looked up into his eyes, I knew that he was not talking about how he didn’t want me to touch him. I didn’t understand it until he reached out to me, brushing the tear that I didn’t realise have made its presence on my face.

A sob finally escaped me, while he gave me a sad smile as he kissed my knuckles.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t feel sad for me.”

“I’m not—” I sobbed, clutching his hand that was holding mine so desperately. “It’s not that. It’s—”

He raised his eyebrows as he looked at mine, which he later kissed to make my frown go away. I relaxed against him when he kept his lips pressing there, giving me a chance to find my voice again before I could continue to speak. “I feel sorry for both of us.”

Jimin pulled me closer and let me rest my head on his shoulder. He did everything ever so gently, knowing that he would risk pulling the infusion tube that was attached to my forearm if he had tugged me too hastily.

“It will be over soon,” he whispered. I could feel his lips pressing on my thinning hair, his breath falling on my temple. He still had his hand holding mine in one, as the other was rubbing my back. The pyjama top I was wearing suddenly felt too thick on my skin. His touches felt too delicate that they were barely there.

“Soon, there will be no more of these cables, tubes, needles. No more nurses and doctors poking our bodies or running those tests on us. No more nauseating drugs and stale hospital meals. And there will be music around us instead of the sounds of the steady heart monitors we keep hearing from down the halls,” he kept whispering to me in a soothing voice. His body, his touch, his kisses, and his words started to replace the cold temperature in the room as I relaxed further in his hold.

“Soon, we will be sleeping in our comfy bed, in our own bedroom instead of these suffocating hospital rooms. And we will be able to walk and run freely with our heads held high without having to lean on the walls or being pushed on wheelchairs wherever we want to go. Soon, we will be walking out of here, our bodies strong enough, our face less pale, and our hair thickens. And I will be holding your hand as we do so.”

I kept my eyes close as I listened to him, picturing everything in my head until they all felt real. “That does sound nice. Every single one of it,” I told him with a sigh, pressing my cheeks on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. “Where should we go first after we leave here?”

“Hmmm—” his voice was soft with the familiar hum which I loved when he thought about it for a moment. “First, I will take you out on a date. I will make up for all the dates I had promised you and missed. The list is already so long, so I know we won’t be done with each and one of them in one day.”

“Obviously,” I chuckled.

“We can start light. I can take you to a fancy coffee shop. We will find the hippest one in the city, the one that youngsters love to hang out in. Because I know how much you love your panini.”

“Um,” I moan playfully, earning a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Yes, I do.”

“And then we could go to the movies. No horror movies, just some of those drama flicks you like most. And then we’ll go shopping, and we could go sightseeing in the city—” he continued. I could clearly see his eyes glazing when I looked up to him, lost in wonder, and it was much better than the usual painful look they usually emitted at the end of his treatments. So I said nothing, opting to listen to his words instead and joined him in imagining us going through every part of his plan.

In our minds, we were healthy. With no restrictions in our bodies to hold us back from walking and running, and laughing together while we were at it, as we were enjoying our lives together just the way we had planned them to.

“What if we run out of places to visit just in the city alone?” I asked him. “Pretty sure we would be bored with going to the malls and the zoos after a while. I’m okay with sitting in the park during our free time and the frequent trips to the coffee shop, but what then?”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, closing his eyes. The wondrous look in his gaze returned when he opened them a little bit later. “I really want to take you to other places, of course. I would love to take you for a whole weekend down the beach.”

“The beach?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Wouldn’t it be nice? I mean, I love going to the mountains and all, but the beach would be a really good idea after we spend weeks inside these walls without the sun falling on our skin, don’t you think?”

“The warm sun does sound more lovely compared to this,” I answered him while snuggling closer, searching for the warmth that I could barely acquire from my pyjamas and the hospital’s blanket alone. Jimin tightened his arm around me, either knowing that I needed it and also needing to warm himself at the same time.

“We can stroll down the beach, the white sand slipping between our toes. I would chase you down as we run with the waves, probably dunk you into the water once I catch you,” he said, chuckling when I swatted his chest.

“You know I hate wearing wet clothes,” I protested with a pout, making him laugh.

“Who said we’ll be wearing full clothes on?”

I looked up at him with a frown. “What are we wearing then?”

Licking his lips, he looked down to stare at mine. “We’ll be in swimming suits, of course. You’ll be wearing the bikini you once showed me, the yellow pair you wore in your photos from college, and I’d wear a trunk that is just as revealing as yours.”

I started picturing us in the same way he described it. Before I could even stop it, I felt my smile fading, as my own insecurities blanketed me.

“What? What’s wrong?” he lifted my chin gently so that I was staring straight into his eyes. And I realised then that I was mirroring his frown. Although when his face was showing curiosity, mine was giving him something else.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I just—” I could only sigh, hating the feeling I was having, dreading the lump that was stuck in my throat. His imagination and his dream were all beautiful. But I was not. “Look at me. I look ugly. I can’t imagine myself wearing those outfits again, revealing myself to you like that. Everything about me has changed so much since I got sick. I could never return to how I was before—”

“Stop saying that. You are beautiful,” Jimin scolded me, stopping me by pressing his thumb on my quivering lips. His eyes were dark, but his voice was soft. And it only got even softer when he spoke, “I don’t care if you will look different, if the bikini won’t fit you anymore. You are beautiful.”

I lost every word that I was going to say, not having a chance to answer him when he leaned in to kiss me, drowning my thoughts and insecurities and replacing them with comfort as he pressed his lips on mine. He never stopped until I stopped crying, until I returned the kiss with my own and stopped with a content sigh. He pulled away with a gentle smile on his face, looking at me just as I mirrored his smile. The terrible, painful thoughts no longer bothered me as much as they did. Not when he was looking at me the way he did. Like I was something special.

But then I began chastising myself for being so vulnerable. This had been such a tough day for Jimin, and I was supposed to be the one comforting him by coming here. Not the other way around. Again, as if he could read my thoughts, he pulled me back to him by tilting my chin up and forcing me to look at him instead of avoiding his eyes and getting too lost in my head.

“Do you want to know what I think about when I picture myself taking you to the beach?” he asked me all so suddenly, and I nodded.

“I do want to know. What do you have in mind?”

Jimin’s lips curled into a sly grin. His glazed eyes filled with mirth as he held my hands, pressing them on his chest when he spoke,

“I want to lay you down on the sand when night comes, hold you close to my chest as we look up at the stars in the sky, the sound of waves running in the background would be the perfect music for our night together. And then I will kiss your lips—” he stopped, leaning down to give me a chaste kiss right on the corner of my lips, “—and your nose.” I laughed softly when he kissed the tip of my nose, teasingly pressing his kiss a bit longer before pulling away so he could continue.

“I will continue kissing you, down to your chin and then to your neck. I will probably lick your collarbones, finding the sensitive parts where they tickle,” he said, grinning wide when I laughed.

“You know which spots they are,” I told him, earning his wide smile in return.

“I do know,” he said. “And I will kiss them all, before I continue lower.”

I raised my eyebrows, curious to listen to his plans even more. “How much lower?”

Jimin bit his lips. His eyes slowly turned away from my face and he looked down between us.

“I will start from your breasts, although I might have to take your top off first,” he said, keeping his eyes on my chest.

A gasp came out of me and I instantly pulled my hands away from him, crossing them over my chest and looked away when my face felt hot. “But—they no longer look the way they used to, and—”

“And perfect for my small, skinny hands,” he cut me off while prying my hands away and held them close to his chest again. He lifted my face with his finger on my chin and said, “They are the softest thing in the world, ____. And I love to admire them. To touch them, to kiss them.”

And he kissed me. Right on my lips, before I ever got a chance to respond. “I remember you being sensitive there,” he whispered, keeping his forehead pressed on mine while his hand brushed gently on my covered breasts from over my pyjama top.

“I’m sensitive everywhere. Whenever you touch me,” I whispered. My heartbeat started racing as I felt his palm kneading my breast softly, moving carefully so he wouldn’t hurt me. His touch made me shudder, and I almost failed to process his words before he moved his hand to my back, pulling me closer to him, while his other hand stayed behind, pinching gently on my hardened nipple until I gasped against his lips. I could barely question how or why this conversation had suddenly led to this, and I could only guess where he was leading this to. I knew because his eyes were telling me all of his intentions as they looked at me with darkness behind their sleepy glow.

“So would you let me touch you then? Without anything getting in the way, I mean. Would you let me kiss you there?” he asked, practically begging me softly with an adorable look on his face that I just had no choice but to nod. Smiling to me to show how my response had pleased him, he leaned in, tracing my jawline with his kisses while he whispered, “I will take my time, taking one peak and lick it, bite you tenderly until I feel the tip of your breast hardening in my lips. And then I will do the same to the other—”

“Jimin—” I gasped. And my body suddenly started heating up all over, from my chest and down to my core. He pressed his lips on my neck, right where I pulsed for him, and I almost came right away just from listening to his words and feeling his gentle kiss alone.

“Are you going to push me away?” he asked me, nipping at the tender skin on my neck when he felt me shuddering against him.

“N-no—” I shifted on the bed, moving my legs and started pressing them together to tone down the intense pulse rising inside my core.

“Good, because then I can continue kissing you,” he whispered, pressing his lips on mine before he pulled me in until our chests were pressing each other. “I will kiss every part of your skin until you arch your chest, pressing your body to me. Then I will continue lower, kissing down your stomach, licking around your navel until you reach down to pull my hair. Just don’t pull me too hard, I might lose the hair that I have grown by then.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. Appalled to how he could still throw a little joke in the middle of his sweet yet sinful talk. “Stop, you’re being silly.”

“You love me being silly,” he immediately responded. His lips turned to a smirk when I glanced up, making me want to kiss it away. But he had my body pressing close to his, making it hard for me to reach up. All I could reach was his neck, and that was where I let my lips rest, making him chuckle before he grunted softly when I nipped at his skin playfully in return just before he continued to whisper, “And I bet you will stop thinking that I am being silly once I reach your bikini bottom and start lowering them down your legs.”

I hid my face on the nape of his neck as I groaned desperately, the heat between my legs making its appearance once more. But I didn’t stop him.

“I will shift between your legs, never stop kissing you until I am there—licking, and sucking, and drinking every drop of your release until you scream my name.”

“Oh, Jimin,” I gasped. My body reacted before my mind could even process it. I was pressing my whole body onto him, my legs rubbing each other in desperate need to press the intense throbbing that was happening between them.

“Would you like that?” he whispered, sounding breathless when he spoke to me. His own desire was coating his words and I felt him trembling against me.

“Hmm—” I sighed, not even minding that he had one of his legs slipping between mine and I was practically grinding on his thigh. “Yeah, I would like that a lot.”

Jimin fell silent for a moment. But I could feel his eyes on me, studying my face while I had my eyes closed, embracing the warmth that was throbbing inside me, started deep within my core before it began to spread all over my body. I hummed softly as I was enjoying the warmth coming out of his body, when I focused on his thigh that was pressing down the heat between my legs. I waited until my heartbeat steadied and opened my eyes.

“Do you think I would stop there?” he asked, smiling gently as he watched me slowly falling apart.

“Oh? You won’t?”

“No, that’s just the beginning, my love,” he shook his head, pressing his thigh harder onto my heat. The pressure hit right where I needed him and I instantly started grinding against it while his words came flowing as if he was guiding me into making love to his body. And I complied with my eyes closed, my body dancing through his words, my hips kept swivelling with the same rhythm of his heartbeat under my palms.

“Once you come down from your climax, I will lift your legs, open them apart so I can move between them. I’ll keep touching your skin and kissing all over your body while I crawl on top of you. I won’t stop kissing you, and I will only look into your eyes when I make love to you under the stars and the moonlight. The sky and the universe as our witness. You will keep your eyes on the night sky, at the bright stars lighting us from above when I am deep inside you, filling you up until all you could see is more stars. I will bring you pleasure, the kind that you had never felt before, until your body explodes to another climax while you are in my hands.”

And that was it.

His words pushed me right into the edge, my hips moving voluntarily as I pictured him making love to me, his hands strumming my whole body the way his words did it to me. With each throb of need, I pressed my hips down, pressing myself harder onto his thigh while my hips rubbed against his covered hard-on. We moved together as I continued to swivel, rolling my hips against his body, thrusting my pulsing heat against his thigh, chasing my end. His voice started fading out when my whole body shuddered, the rush of pleasure came climbing up steadily until it reached to the peak, and I came apart with his arms around me. I kept whimpering his name, gasping for breath in between as the electric waves of bliss came coursing through my body. He never let go of me as he kept whispering to me sweet nothings, kissing my face gently until I was coming down from my high and I started to calm down.

“That was—” I gasped, when a few small spasms of my orgasm ran through me with his hands rubbing on my back. I gave him a smile which he returned with his own. “All of it, it all sounded beautiful.” I licked my lips, and let out a soft chuckle. “And completely unsanitary.”

Jimin laughed, sounding delighted and relieved. And then he kissed me, as gentle as he possibly could, yet still deep and intense. It felt like giving me my release had him letting go of his own apprehension. I was beginning to dread the fact that he had pleasured me while I failed to help him reach his end, until I felt his soaked pants and saw the dark stain forming between his legs that had proven otherwise. I was breathing a sigh of relief when he tilted my face up again.

“Will you do it with me one day? Run away to a place where we could be alone, together, just the two of us? Make love to me under the stars?” he asked me while looking deep into my eyes.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” I answered him without ever looking away so he could see that I meant what I said. “You know that I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes widened for a brief moment. I could see through them glints of happiness, hope, and joy, before they all disappeared in a blink and he was breaking down in front of me again. He pulled me into a deep hug, just when I felt myself breaking down with him. Neither of us could allow ourselves to pull away, to see the unspoken truth that lingered between us, that was shown through our eyes when they finally met each other again.

And then, as he gently pressed his lips on the top of my head, I felt him smiling through his tears.

“Everything will be okay,” he whispered. It was never clear whether he was trying to convince himself or to calm me down, but I took it all in, allowing the hope that was coating his sentence to reside in my chest.

“We’re going to be okay,” I said then, as I kept breaking down silently with tears.

“Yes, we are.” He kissed my forehead, repeating the words over and over again until his voice started to sound heavy with sleep. A sign that his medicine had finally taken effect on him. That our little tryst was enough to make him feel a bit more relaxed than he was before.

“Go to sleep, Jimin,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around him, feeling myself being dragged into the darkest of night at the same time, when my own body started to give in to sleep. I was halfway into my dreams when I heard his voice speaking softly to me,

“Thank you, ______. Good night.”

That night, I dreamt of us making love under the stars.

The ground and the plateau around us became nothing else but a blanket of darkness, overshadowed by the bright night sky above. Nothing else mattered but us, together, joined as one. Everything else became insignificant when all I could see, and feel, was him. And I could never look away from him as he made love to me, making me whole again while he brought me pleasure. Nothing else could make me look away, for he was the most beautiful star in my eyes, and he was the only one who could mend every piece of my broken soul until I was completed once again.

—  © 2020 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Plans To Avenge

Camula swept into Haou's throne room, tilting her head in greeting.  Tearstains still marred her features but she'd made an effort to be presentable.  She wanted to ensure that Haou took her seriously.  Her rage had only grown over the few days that passed since she'd discovered Ruthven's demise.  Only now it had hardened into a spike of ice centered on her heart.

"Lady Camula,"  Haou greeted her, bending his own head slightly.  "A pleasure to see you again.  Have the years been kind?" 

She knew as well as he did that this was nothing more than empty courtesy.  She knew he wasn't the soft little boy that she'd first met in Celestia's realm all those years earlier.  She wasn't the idealistic teen she'd been then, either.  But this was as close to friendship as she thought herself capable of with a human - if Haou, the incarnate Darkness of Destruction, could even be said to be human.  He did bear the form of one for now, of course.  But that was musings for another day.

"They were, for a while,"  she admitted, taking the seat he gestured her to.  A quick glance around showed her that the years had indeed been kind to him - or he had ripped what he wanted from others.  She knew which was more likely, since he'd come into his power and his true nature.  The room wasn't very large, but the floor and walls were marble, softened only by rugs and tapestries of costly weave and materials, all in shades of dark reds and blacks, his favored colors.  She'd come by past dark, so there wasn't any sunlight in here.  Silver spheres of light hunt from the ceiling and set on the walls to illuminate the area.  One guard stood by each of the three doors. 

Perhaps in deference to their long years of having known one another, Haou wasn't visibly armed beyond his deck.  She respected that, and had done the same, as best she could.  Frequently a vampire could be considered a weapon all on their own.

One eyebrow quirked up on Haou.  "Yes, I had heard of your wedding to Ruthven.  I wish that I'd been able to attend.  But I was otherwise occupied."

So she'd heard - being a gladiator for Brron.  She'd not quite believed all the tales she'd heard during the years between their first meeting and now.  But if they were true, then he was exactly what and who she needed.

"But no longer.  When I returned home a few days ago, I discovered -"  Camula's voice broke off, a lump of tears lodging itself in her throat.  Her fingers dug into the arms of her chair and she pressed her lips together, fighting to get the words out.  "Ruthven - Ruthven is dead."  Her heart spasmed, knives of pain stabbing into her each time she had to think about what she'd found.  "I found him in our home.  None of the servants saw anything or anyone.  There were no traces of magic."

Haou leaned forward, his sharp eyes softening just the tiniest bit.  She doubted that anyone else would have seen that from him.  "Were there any other signs?"

She shook her head.  "It was as if he simply dropped dead.  But he couldn't have.  He had his duel disk on him.  Someone dueled him and he died."  Her fingers tightened harder, digging into the chair.  "I've never heard of such a thing.  Not a wound on him.  As if simply fell over dead."

Haou considered quietly, before he nodded towards her.  "You want my help to find who did this." 

There wasn't any way that she could have disagreed with this, even if she'd wanted to.  She nodded.  "In return, what do you wish of me?"

He leaned back now, head tilted upward, eyes closed as he considered for a few endless moments.  Then he said, "Eventually I am going to require your help.  You have heard of this little 'rebellion' that some of the survivors of my attacks have begun to form?"

She had.  It hadn't meant much of anything to her.  Humans were humans and how they ordered their lives and realms wasn't of much interest to those of the vampire persuasion.  It would all settle itself out sooner or later.

"I have been researching them - learning what they're like.  To see if any of them are worth standing in my army."  He chuckled a little at some thought she didn't know.  "There is one in particular that interests me, but that's not who I speak of now.  The one I am thinking of - perhaps you've heard of him?  Marufuji Ryou - the Hell Kaiser."

Camula's eyes narrowed for a breath. "Yes, I've heard of him."  She'd almost fed on his little brother a year or two earlier.  He'd driven her off, and she'd itched for the chance to avenge the slight ever since. 

"He is proud.  Very proud."  Haou spoke the words as if they were mildly offensive to him.  "I think he doesn't fear death.  So should the need and the opportunity ever arise, I have a fate planned for him that is worse than death, by his standards." 

Camula knew something of how Haou thought.  He wouldn't have brought this up if he hadn't wanted a particular talent of hers - hers or any vampire.  "You want me to turn him."

"In time.  He's not important enough yet for me to send you after him.  I have quite a few other matters to deal with before I wish to deal with him."  Haou drummed his fingers lightly.  "But I will have all of my servants search for anyone who may have murdered your beloved and when that person is found, you will be allowed to exact whatever vengeance you desire upon them."

Camula's heart didn't quiver, quite, but she smiled a fraction of a smile.  She hadn't felt relaxed or at ease or anything but endless rage since the moment she'd discovered Ruthven's body.  Not even giving him the proper rites had eased her fury.  This didn't either.  But it came at least a little close to it.

"Thank you, Haou-sama,"  she declared, bending her head once again, the deeper gesture that one who had pledged their loyalty to a higher power made. 

"I will have quarters set aside for you here, but you may come and go as you please,"  Haou told her.  "And I would like to introduce you to the Fallen Angels.  They are my closest allies."

Camula nodded slightly.  So she'd heard - that Fallen Angel Lucifer himself had sired Juudai, and he had been stolen as a baby from their care.  Tensions had been tight for years between Celestia's realm and that of the Fallen Angels due to that, but very little had come of it.  Celestia's armies, mages, and allies made certain of that.  Until Haou came into his power and everything had gone downhill from there.

At least for Celestia.

Dismissed, she departed to be escorted to her new quarters.  They were deep within the castle, far from any hint of sunlight.  Such a thing would not have harmed her, but the light did burn at her eyes, and she'd never been fond of it.  Haou clearly knew that very well, and she remained grateful for that.  She settled down in a chair and stared down at the ring on her left hand.

She would not take it off, no matter what.  She'd pledged her heart and soul to Ruthven and she would never regard another in the same fashion.  Slowly she closed her hand.

I will find the one who killed you.  And I will have my revenge.

Haou tried not to laugh.  He wasn't very good at it, but he managed to keep most of his mirth under control.  He'd honestly not expected his efforts to work out so well.  But they had, and the first steps to his future plans were taken.

Lucifer chuckled softly as he entered the room.  "I could feel your mirth as soon as I entered. What's amused you so, my son?"

Haou leaned back, grinning as widely as his lips could manage.  "Camula came to pledge herself to me.  She wants my help in finding whoever it is that murdered her husband Ruthven."

One finely crafted eyebrow flickered upward.  "Is that so?"

"I told her that I would help but I would want her assistance for whenever I should actually capture Marufuji Ryou."  Haou didn't really expect that to happen for quite a while, if ever.  He would have to either set out to do it himself - far more trouble than it was worth right now - or Marufuji would make some kind of drastic error to fall into Haou's hands.  A bit more likely but from what he knew of the other, it wasn't completely impossible. 

Lucifer chuckled at that.  "Fascinating.  I look forward to meeting her."  He settled into his chair, taking out his deck and regarding it for a few moments.  Haou smirked slowly.

"A duel later?"  He suggested.  Both of them did need to keep in shape - and Camula would never know who had truly done the deed.

The End

Notes: Juudai didn’t know that he’d eventually capture Johan and that would lead to Ryou coming to find him, which led to Ryou being revealed, captured, tortured, and turned. But he had plans for just about all of his enemies.

Also, I can’t ever decide between Camula and Haou as my favorite villain, so I wrote something for both of them!

[zet-sway]

Spiritual Shrios Summer - Release

This is a prompt fill for @rosenkow's Spiritual Shrios Summer! Prompts | release | oasis | moan | delirium | pray | sweat | whisper | afterlife | contaminated | skin | worship | incense | godless | petals | taste | nectar | caress | mirage | ripe | sundown | hallucinate | salt | intoxicated | soul | embrace | hunger | wet | adrenaline | breathe |

PROMPT WORD: RELEASE - | - WORDS: 2686

Rated: "E" for Extremely Spicy - not for children AO3 Link: "Singing Southward" Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: "But her blood is singing southward, and that's a good thing, right? A reassuring, human reminder that maybe she's still Shepard - a woman - not just a Cerberus machine."

Full disclosure, this prompt fought me and kicked my ass the whole way. I can't look at it anymore. I hope it's more enjoyable for people who haven't been looking at it for like two weeks lmao. Many thanks to Rosenkow for that excellent playlist that really inspired my Shrios muse.

The heavy thrum of battle is where she loses herself. Shepard would take sweat and the pounding pulse of combat any day over the silence between stars.

Swirling winds whip sand across her face and body. It crunches in the joints between her armor and she hates the sound but it's easy to ignore as she slams another heat sink into her shotgun and charges into the last remaining crawler. It's thrown by the impact, the momentum of her body splits the carapace against her armored fist. The smell of viscera in the air, the humming of biotic barriers. Her body sings. She feels untouchable. The keystone slams the ground again.

The ground beneath her feet rumbles and she hears an unholy sound. A thresher maw. Her battle-lust is broken instantly and she snaps to attention, every sense laser focused.

Her shotgun and fists will be little help to them now. She exchanges glances with Grunt and Thane, waving them toward cover while she hunkers down on point, grenade launcher at the ready. It's not the biggest thresher maw she's ever seen but their size isn't the only thing that makes them dangerous. Positioning is critical when fighting something that can burrow and spit. Her combat HUD tracks its movements through the ground and she directs their movements, their gunfire to its next point of exposure.

But there's a problem. Her visor's sensitive electronics were never meant to be used in a sandstorm.

The maw dives again and this time the data is wrong, pinging across the arena, indicating wildly different trajectories that conflict with the laws of physics. Not great, but there's nothing she can do about it now. Adapt, improvise.

She tears the headset from her face and makes her best approximation of where it's going to appear next, signaling the team. They open fire, it dives again. Then the rumbling stops. Her best is not enough. There's a split second of silence before the beast bursts forth not twelve feet away from her position. Dust and debris erupt in a disorienting cloud and she can tell by the shadow cast over her that she's in deep shit, struggling to find her footing on the fractured, quaking ground.

A scorching heat envelops her and her vision goes dark. There's a shout in her comm, a weight pressed upon her, and the grenade launcher is wrenched from her hands.

Then a burst, an explosion, a blinding flash of light. Acid sizzles against her barrier and it pops, the sound rattling her ears in the darkness.

The orange sun of Tuchanka blinks back into existence as the dust begins to settle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thane slumps into the stinking puddle of meat and organs, still clutching Shepard's grenade launcher. His scales are stinging and the pain is growing more intense by the second. Beside him, Shepard is calling in an evac while she rips at the panels of her hardsuit. Her under armor is a patchwork of holes beneath, and her skin is a frightening shade of red where the fabric is being eaten away. Thresher maw bile.

He's never actually seen a thresher maw before, much less fought one - he's more shaken than he would like to admit. Her voice is his anchor. By the time she's done shouting for Grunt to maintain a defensive position, she's torn the suit at the waist and stripped the top half from her body. She uses it to wipe the viscera from his head, chest, and hands before tending to herself.

Her ease of determination has him transfixed. He's trembling from their encounter, but Shepard- he's never seen her more focused. Brows knitted in concentration, voice firm, but calm. Her chest rises and falls with each measured breath. Wearing only her belt, legplates, and a black compression bra, she's slathering herself in medigei, a whirlwind of sand and dirt sticking to exposed burns across the hard expanse of her body.

Her skin is so vulnerable compare to his scales that she should be shrieking in pain. Instead, she seems completely unfazed. Adrenaline, perhaps. Or maybe she's every bit as otherworldly as he's coming to understand she is.

Their evac shuttle arrives and they pile on. Grunt is the first one to break the silence.

"Quick thinking back there, Krios."

Grunt looks at him with the same piercing gaze all krogan seem to have. Thane has always found them hard to read.

"Never thought I'd see a drell dive into the mouth of a thresher maw. You're tougher than you look."

He smiles, then. And Shepard smiles with him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Doctor's orders: 24 hours rest.

Shepard's armor clatters to the cabin floor and she strides into the bathroom, trying not to itch the scabs tightening over her skin. The burns are superficial - irritating, but not serious. In the mirror, they look worse than they feel. The sting is enough to drown out the other weird pains that live inside her reconstructed body. Her ears hurt. Her tear ducts feel swollen and pressurized. Her fingers are sore. There's a constant ache in her sternum and a soft wooshing in her ear. It's from her synthetic heart, and the abundance of blood it requires. But it means she'll heal faster, too.

The water hisses out of the showerhead and she sets to work cleaning the caked on grit and viscera from her skin. When she's focused on herself like this, it's hard not to think about all of the ways her body has changed.

On the SR1, she'd been in shape, perhaps even proud of her body. She'd thought of herself as a well oiled machine. She watched her nutrition carefully, spent just as much time honing nerves as she did strength and endurance. Her body, a product of her own work and service.

What she sees now is not what she remembers.

Notably, she's about 70 pounds heavier, almost exclusively due to her implants and the additional muscle she's put on to carry them. Adapting to the added weight of cybernetics and artificial bones had been an uphill battle since she rolled off that Cerberus operating table. Even her breasts are one cup size larger, and that one change carries perhaps the most bitterness. Her body is no longer her creation.

She sees herself as though through a stranger's eyes - a construct. The Commander they wanted. Not the woman she remembers.

Her new body is all about performance, both in the public eye and on the battlefield. Miranda had already told her she should be grateful for her various "upgrades." Her titanium fingers that never tremble, her artificial eyes that can see colors and details normal human's can't. Heightened olfaction, improved hearing, even joints with a higher range of motion.

A superhuman.

No, she corrects herself, with no small amount of vitriol.

A supersoldier.

The trouble is, being a soldier is what she wants. Control over her body is as much a necessity as a beating heart, and she demands it of herself every way she knows how. The problem isn't the upgrades. It's the autonomy ripped from her hands as soon as she was too dead to spit in their faces.

But this is the hand she's dealt, so she works with it, even if learning how to use her own body is still a learning curve. Testing her limits, evaluating response times, and sometimes... trying out shitty supplementary tech that can't stand up to a little bad weather.

Outside the bathroom door, the remnants of her visor are crumbled together next to her terminal. Thane had crushed it underfoot when he dove between her and the thresher maw. That split second confusion in the field could have cost her life if he hadn't intervened. She hadn't expected a lone wolf assassin to mesh so well with the team.

She towels off and stuffs her armor back in its locker. The automatic cleaning cycle hums to life, and her thoughts whirl with it.

Thane's opened up a bit more since the night they spoke about Alchera. He has a surprising way of coloring the air with his words. And, perhaps most alarmingly, the more time she spends with him, the time she wants to spend with him. She tries to chalk it up to regular team synchronicity, but there are moments she catches herself wondering him on more than just a professional level. Tiny curiosities slither into her brain. Does he kiss like humans do? The very notion warms her blood.

How long has it been since she'd kissed someone? It feels like a lifetime.

And then - just one impulsive little thought, summoning the things she's not even dared herself to think. Does he fuck like humans do?

Almost timidly, she allows her imagination to wander.

Greeting the morning together in the shuttle bay, the harsh fluorescent lights casting dramatic shadows over his body as he bends through another impossible stretch. All that tension coiled within him, the hard planes of his torso, those absolutely delicious ass-kicking thighs...

For a moment, she feels as though he's close enough to share his heat. There's an old, familiar warmth in her blood - exquisite, tiny shivers flickering just beneath her skin - arousal.

Her eyes drift closed. She owes her XO a mission debrief, and she owes her pilot new destination coordinates. But her blood is singing southward, throbbing between her legs, and that's a good thing, right? A reassuring, human reminder that maybe she's still Shepard - a woman - not just a Cerberus machine.

Maybe those obligations can wait a little bit longer.

Scooting up her unmade bed to rest against the headboard, she tentatively rests a hand against her belly and traces a line from her navel to the juncture of her legs, almost as if she's afraid of what she'll find. Her flesh is reassuringly warm, and she passes over her center, teasing and smoothing back over blood-warmed skin, testing its sensitivity. At least here, her body feels like she remembers.

Thane's unfamiliarity excites her. She's never spared much thought for bunking with another species before, but he's more than handsome. Shepard wonders if drell are as introverted as Thane. Likely not, but his guardedness only intensifies her intrigue. The idea of touching him seems forbidden, like a closely guarded secret. She wants to run her tongue over the darkened skin below his lower lip, wants to trace the ridges down the back of his neck and feel the warmth of the flushed skin at his throat.

Her mind fumbles with the thought of him, unclothed and willing. He could be any number of iridescent shades of green under that tight leather getup - by the tantalizing gradient of color across the firm swatch of his exposed chest, he must be. Those dark stripes down his shoulders are trails she's hungry to travel, winding paths across the exotic unknowns of his body. Her fingers itch to follow them wherever they lead - with any luck, all the way down.

And down to what, exactly? For a moment, Shepard considers pulling up the extranet to satiate her curiosity and then decides against it. If he's not biologically equipped the way she hopes, better to find out later, when she's not vividly imagining the shape and color of his erection. Maybe green? But then, he hopefully isn't packing scales down there. No, more likely a familiar blush of color, like the frills of at his neck, or the inside of his mouth.

Her fingers brush carefully over her clit at the thought of his mouth, those gorgeous clit-sucking lips. An excited chill zips down her spine, settling - picturing him in this exact spot, head bowed reverently between her legs to worship her with his tongue. It's been so fucking long since someone ate her out.

The memory is old and faded - breaking fraternization rules with a youthful dark-haired recruit in the barracks. They hadn't even finished basic yet. Shepard had come harder than ever before in her life, only to later discover that recruit had told nearly everyone that they'd hated every second of it. She wouldn't have been upset if Cerberus took that memory from her.

But there's something about Thane. He's nothing if not a gentleman, she likes to think he'd be wickedly good at this. Warm, firm lips, an agile tongue... those fused fingers edging her on.

She uses her own to test that hypothesis, biting her lip at the familiar slick of arousal concentrated in her core.

There was a time when she'd rather be incinerated than suffer gentle lovemaking. She wanted it hard and fast, pleasure so blindingly hot she'd sneak out to the airlock for a cigarette in the afterglow. But her new body is a labyrinth of unknowns. Sex in this new skin, not knowing her limits, how much she can take. She wants to take her time.

Middle finger first, then following with another, she tests her reconstruction. Maybe she's just imagining it, but she feels a bit stiffer than she remembers.

But in the blurry comfort of her fantasy, Thane is a gentle lover. He's slow and patient, giving her ample time to acclimate both her body and her racing thoughts. Her fingers slip inside as far as they'll reach, leaving her palm to flex against her clit. She sighs, luxuriating in sensation.

It feels so good to be touched.

It's been years, in fact, and the roaring flame of her lust is surprising even to herself. To have him here, moving inside her, filling her with every stroke...

When her hand curls against her inner walls, her eyes roll back and an unholy sound leave her throat. Holy shit. Either this is the pleasure time forgot, or Cerberus spared no expense reconstructing her nerve endings. It wipes every other thought from her mind.

She's lost in the fantasy now. Hopelessly spellbound beneath the roll of her own hand - Thane's hips - languidly pushing the heights of her pleasure in body and mind until she's deliberately edging her orgasm because it seems a damn shame to end it so fast. Her head is swimming, discomfort collecting dust in the rational corners of her brain until her nerves are burning with adrenaline and wanting. Scattered thoughts come in incoherent bursts. All that matters now is the caldera of pleasure between her legs. Her mind. His body.

She can almost feel his voice. The words are lost but the sensations are loud and clear, encircling her, flowing through her, filling her. She wants to feel his desire, wants him to come undone inside her, calling her name, riding the high of his climax and all but demanding she come with him. In her mind, they gasp together, his arms tightening around her, his face buried in her neck, her walls clenching around him.

The electricity of release pulses through her nerves - organic, synthesized, and everything in between. For one sweet second, she's weightless. Then the spots are clearing from her vision and she's floating down from whatever far flung corner of the galaxy her soul's been launched to.

In the silence that follows, the gentle hum of the ship is the only sound.

"Fuck," she breathes out into the empty room. He's gone. The reverie slowly evaporates, vanishing into the metal bulkheads of the hull.

The familiar guilt of indulgence tugs at the edges of her fading euphoria. She hadn't banked on masturbating to her crew, but here she is.

It's just a daydream, no harm done.

But as she gets dressed, she asks herself why it's been so long since anyone's crept into her mind like Thane.

Shepard shakes her head, straightening her back. A little movement to clear the errant thoughts trashing her rationality. Her scabs itch. Her mouth is dry. There are more important things to be doing. Things that will quiet the tiny voice in her head that whispers 'no one wants your weird cybernetic body.'

At least she can still show herself a good time. Small victories are perhaps even sweeter during wartime. Maybe she feels just a little more human than she did an hour before.

[missjanjie]

Better Than Revenge | (2/?)

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.6k (this chapter) | ~5.3k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

TW for this chapter: implied domestic abuse, attempted sexual coercion of a minor, deadnaming/transphobia

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Nicky, Jan, and Mik's revenge origin stories

-

Milwaukee, WI - 2007

“I think my parents are starting to get suspicious,” Jaida quietly confessed, her gaze downcast to the floor while Nicky sat behind her, braiding her hair.

Nicky frowned, her brows furrowed as she tied off the braid she’d put Jaida’s hair in with a hair elastic. “What is making you say that?” she asked, moving so she was facing the other girl and taking her hands into her own.

She shrugged, fumbling with the hem of her shirt until Nicky’s grasp stilled them. “Just feels like they’re snooping around more, suddenly real interested in my life. And you know they’re always acting weird whenever we’re at my house together. Last time they made us keep the door open, remember?”

“I had assumed that was an American thing,” she confessed. She had only moved to the states a couple of months ago, at the start of her and Jaida’s junior year of high school, and she was still learning how to differentiate cultural differences from people behaving unusually to her specifically.

“You think everything you don’t understand is an American thing,” Jaida rolled her eyes with a fond smile, “though I guess you’re right most of the time,” she conceded.

Nicky shrugged it off, redirecting back to the topic at hand. “But you’re worried they’re going to find out about us and poop will hit the ceiling.”

“Shit will hit the fan,” she corrected, then sighed. “I mean, think about it — my mom’s a Sunday school teacher and my dad’s the son of a preacher, they take ‘traditional family values’ very seriously. And I don’t know how things are in France but there’s nothing traditional about this,” she explained, gesturing between the two of them.

She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But we are happy together, surely once we graduate, we can—”

“It’s not that simple, Nicky!” Jaida tossed her head back and groaned. “I love you, but in a place like this, sometimes love just ain’t enough.”

And maybe it was denial, or maybe it was blind optimism, but Nicky had refused to take that answer lying down. She fought for Jaida and fought even harder to keep the relationship away from her disapproving parents. For a while, it seemed to be working, they had their beautiful, fleeting moments that let them believe that everything would be okay.

It was the first day back after spring break and Nicky immediately noticed a change in her girlfriend. It was like the life and light had been drained from her like she was only present physically. And despite the warm weather, she was dressed for late fall. She rushed towards her, taking her hand. “Ma chérie, what’s wrong? You look so unwell.”

Jaida hesitated before pulling her hand away. “I can’t hang around you anymore,” she replied. “Though I’m not gonna see anyone around here for a while starting real soon,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

“My parents found out, Nicky,” she choked out, forcing back a sob, “and they were mad, I ain’t never seen them so mad. They’re sending me to military school… well, they gave me a choice between that and conversion therapy… seemed like the better option.”

Nicky bit down on her quivering lip. “But you can find me when you are done, right?” She reached out to her again, but Jaida backed away to step out of her grasp.

“I can’t. Besides, you won’t want me anyway, I won’t be the same person.”

She tried to grab for her once more, desperate to keep her, looking at her with watery, pleading eyes. “Jaida, I can’t—”

“Please,” she sniffled, “don’t make this harder than it’s already gonna be.”

And perhaps Nicky should have let it go, accepted losing her first love, and moving on with her life. Sure, she would eventually. She would move around for school, for work, meeting many beautiful women along the way, but none of that happened until she made sure Jaida’s parents experienced at least a fraction of the hurt they had caused the both of them.

Her plan had been elaborate and convoluted and would require a heavy amount of stealth work and computer literacy to pull off. But as it turned out, her plan of convincing the two parents that the other was cheating on them was quite easy when her snooping unearthed the fact that both of them already were. All she needed to do was bring it to light.

Present Day

“When you think about it,” Nicky mused, “I did them a favor. There are worse ways they could’ve found out than having an envelope full of proof dropped off at your workplace. At least no one made a scene… as far as I know, at least.”

“Does Jaida know?” Rosé asked. “Now that you guys have reconnected, have you caught her up to speed? Because it seems like something you should tell her.”

Nicky winced and looked away. “It… has not come up yet,” she murmured. “There is no easy way to inform someone that you were the catalyst in their parent’s divorce. Unless you have a way, in which case, feel free to share with the class.”

She shrugged, putting her hands up in surrender. “I got nothing, but my point remains. It’s gonna bite you in the ass badly if you wait too long to say anything.” When Nicky shrugged it off, she decided to move on. “What about you, Bubbles?” she asked, looking towards Jan, “what sort of scathing revenge does someone as bouncy as you come up with?”

Jan pressed her lips into a fine line, holding back what was either a smile or a grimace. “Well, this also happened in high school, an all-girl Catholic school, of course…”

Old Bridge, NJ - 2009

Jan was nothing if not brave. Coming out in tenth grade, especially considering the environment she was in, was a choice that couldn’t be taken lightly. While she had the support of her family and closest friends, the school environment had been a different story.

“Janice, could you stay back for a moment?” her math teacher, a conventionally attractive man in his early thirties, prompted as the final bell rang.

With math being her weakest subject, Jan was instantly concerned and nodded. “Of course, sir. Is something wrong?” she asked as she walked over to his desk.

“I think something is very wrong,” he replied as he got up. “Janice, I am highly concerned with your mental wellbeing.” He stopped in front of her, cupping her face with both hands. “You’re such a bright, beautiful girl. It would be such a shame for you to throw that away because you’ve chosen to shun God and live in sin.”

Jan felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and her throat tighten. This was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. She started shaking her head. “N-No, I’m… I’m not, I—”

“Shh…” he pressed his thumb to her lips to quiet her, then swiped it across her bottom lip. “Part of being a good Christian is overcoming temptation. And that’s what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it what your parents want for you?” His hands move to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “God gave you this body to lay with a man, you just need to be put in the right direction before it’s too late. I could help you, I could save you.”

Jan felt sick to her stomach. She hated every moment of the interaction; she hated the feeling of his hands on her, the way he was leering at her body, undressing her with his eyes. But at the same time, it was hard to lean into that hate, because he did pick on every insecurity she had in regards to her faith. But her sense of self won out and she was able to free herself of his grasp and run out of the room as fast as her legs would take her.

Any shame or guilt she might have felt was quickly replaced by anger and a desire to stop the man that tried to rob her of her innocence from harming anyone else. But she was still cautious, she knew there was a risk of retaliation if she spoke out alone, that was when her plan formed.

She created a fake Facebook account of a fifteen-year-old girl who was ‘planning on transferring to her school’. That was why she messaged the teacher, and after a few days of exchanging messages, ‘Samantha’ had agreed to meet up with him, the conversation in no uncertain terms making his intent clear.

Now, the obvious path from there would have been to go to the police, but that wasn’t good enough for Jan. Instead, she went to her godfather, who had promised he’d always help her ‘by any means necessary’. So, it was neither the police nor ‘Samantha’ that met the teacher at the park. Instead, it was two burly men who drove home a rough lesson that he was to turn himself in the next day, lest he face even worse consequences. He’d been given a flash drive with a copy of the whole exchange and was told he had exactly twenty-four hours and that the police would be expecting him.

Of course, those details weren’t in the subsequent news story of the teacher’s arrest. The conviction, however, was disappointing to Jan, as it was only two years and a thousand dollar fine, as well as losing his teaching license and having to register as an offender.

Present Day

“But rest assured, people are keeping an eye on him these days. You know, should he ever try and act up,” Jan explained with a shrug.

Rosé’s mouth was hanging open by the time Jan had finished her story. “So, you put a hit out on a pedo. I mean, shit, color me impressed,” she chuckled softly, then quickly followed up with, “I’m so sorry any of that happened to you, though. I’ve had people in my life try to weaponize religion against me after I came out. It’s never an easy pill to swallow.” She then looked at the group curiously. “Are you all…”

“Mik’s pan but yeah, the rest of us are gay,” Gigi confirmed with a nod. “At first, I thought that’d be the only thing we all have in common, but here we are now.”

“Chosen family is super important,” Mik agreed, “you never know who you can’t trust in your bloodline.”

Rosé quirked her brow. “That what happened to you?”

Scottsdale, AZ - 2015

Mik had been sitting across from his parents in dead silence for the past five minutes. There was no easy way to break it, let alone a correct one. On the coffee table in front of them were printed pictures of screenshots from his private Twitter account, where he presented himself as his true identity, but the precautions he took weren’t enough.

“Kady, sweetheart, I’m sure Uncle Joe brought this to our attention with your best interest at heart,” his mother said in as sweet of a voice as she could muster, which only served to sound fake to her son.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please, don’t give me that. If it was ‘concern’ he would’ve told you privately. He sent it to the family group chat then told you that, and I quote, ‘your daughter thinks she’s a tranny’,” he struggled to keep his tone even, but he knew he needed to coddle his parents’ feelings if he wanted a chance of being taken seriously.

“I’m sure it just caught him by surprise,” his father offered.

Mik groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Even if he did, he wasn’t treating it like a fun piece of gossip, he hunted down my private account and outed me to humiliate me, and it would mean a lot if you guys had my back on this.”

This brought another wave of silence upon his parents. He couldn’t get a clear read on them, but they seemed stressed, confused, and most painfully, they seemed sad. His mother slowly picked her head back up. “Kady, I—”

“My name is Mik.”

“Listen, honey, you’re going to have to give us some time to adjust,” his dad tried to ease the tension, “you’re still our child, but this isn’t an easy thing to process, your mother especially is mourning the loss of her daughter.”

Mik felt his chest tighten in anger and hurt. “But I’m not—” he got up, shaking his head. “Right, fine,” he mumbled and escaped to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Left alone with his thoughts, the anger he had towards his parents dissipated and the rage shifted solely onto his uncle. After all, this was his fault. He was the one that robbed him of the opportunity to come out on his terms, and with the active intent to cause harm.

The anger didn’t go away over the following weeks. Instead, it built up, it festered inside of him as the summer after high school began. He had downloaded Grindr out of casual curiosity, and it was only a matter of minutes before a profile caught his eye. “No fucking way,” he grinned.

Of course, it was Joe, Mik realized how much of a cliche it was, but that didn’t change the fact that his bigoted uncle that tried to ruin his familial relationships was soliciting male escorts on a gay dating app. The opportunity for revenge essentially fell into his lap. He made a fake account and exchanged messages with him, just enough to get the evidence he needed.

The last step was simple, he dropped the screenshots into the same group text without any comment and removed himself from the group chat right after. He didn’t need to see the chaos unfold, Uncle Joe’s absence from the next family gathering was all he needed.

Present Day

“Just to be clear,” Mik added as he finished the story, “I’m against outing people, for the most part, obviously it should be something done on your terms. But shit, sometimes it’s gotta be an eye for an eye, you know?”

“Wait, I have a question,” Jan chimed in, “is he out now? Do y’all even talk to him anymore?”

He shook his head. “He moved to Alabama, I guess he wanted to go somewhere to double-down on the bigotry. No idea what happened after that. But, you know, good fucking riddance.”

“Amen to that,” Rosé agreed. “I don’t know how you guys have figured out that line of deciding what’s morally sound and what’s ethical enough. It seems to work, but it seems hard.”

“Jackie helped a lot with that,” Jan told her, her face lighting up and her smile broadening as she continued, “she has this pragmatic take on these things while still understanding that there’s so much ambiguity and morally gray areas. She’s honestly the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

Rosé nodded as she listened. “I’m glad you guys have someone like that on your team. How long have you two been dating?”

Jan turned bright red, worsened by the way the rest of the group laughed. “Oh, um, we’re not dating. She and I are… very close friends,” she explained.

“Ah,” the corners of her lips tugged into a smirk, “you’re just fucking, got it,” she observed, causing another eruption of laughter from the others, much to Jan’s chagrin. Once it died down, she redirected her attention to the half of the group that had yet to recall their stories. “Alright, who’s next?”

[thegreatvampirekiller]

(Another thing of absolute beauty that Laces made. XD)

[ktheist]

saving grace | 5

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.7k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

after your return from the min mansion, your mother, ever the loving parent, greets you at the door. her bright smile can be seen from miles away as she stands with her hands planted on her hips like someone who’s looking at her life’s worth investment.

“well?” she urges with an unfaltering smile.

“well?” you blink once, head lulling to the side as you stare at her for an explanation.

“don’t pretend to be ignorant,” she clicks her tongue but the contorted expression on her face is short lived as the smile returns, its force almost compelling you to take a step backwards, “did you two-”

“oh, ___, you’re back. i heard that you stayed the night at the duke’s.” your father, having emerged out of his office on the second floor calls for you and for some reason causes the woman in front of you to freeze as though haunted by guilt.

oh.

with a disarming smile, you wave at your father before recounting the reason you couldn’t go back right away after the party, “oh yes, it’s because mo-”

“i’m sure our daughter’s hungry, i’ll have the chef prepare something right away and in the mean time, we’ll be having tea in my parlor,” with that, the woman who has her hand clasped over her mouth whisks you away and into a narrow corridor right under where your father was standing.

huffing, she fixes you a displeased frown, “gosh, i only wanted to help my beloved daughter secure a good future!”

“mother!” hands planted on your hips, you fix your mother an incredulous look,   “by getting rid of any other means for me to leave the mention in hopes i’d seduce the duke to sleep with me and get him to marry me quickly in fear for my being pregnant with an out-of-wedlock child?” your shoulder line are stiff as you watch your mother not even batting an eye at the issues arising within that narration and instead grins in approval at what seems to be a mutual understanding between a mother and a daughter.

“i knew you were smart!”

not wishing to burst her bubble of joy, you excuse yourself to your room, saying the fatigue of hosting a garden party hasn’t entirely left you just yet. fortunately, she the matter of whether you’ve spent the night in yoongi’s room has dissipated in the air as she wishes you a good rest before murmuring something about writing a letter to marchioness jung to invite her to tea or rather, to boast about the daughter that’s marrying the duke who’s several ranks higher than a count’s.

you wonder how she would react once your matchmaking succeeds and krystal ends up becoming a candidate as seokjin’s queen but you decide that your mother’s wounded pride would be a matter of a future that you need not yet concern yourself with.

“leslie, prepare to go to vivian’s.” you question as the maid pulls down on the zip of your dress and allow you to step out of it until you’re staring at the woman in a white underdress in front of the mirror.

“but my lady, that boutique is...” the woman trails off, eyes slanted to the ground in search for the proper words to describe the handiwork.

you’re not entirely sure why she’s against it either but if there’s anything leslie’s good at, it’s being meticulous in her tasks which includes making sure you don only the best clothes, “don’t worry, i won’t be buying the engagement dress there. i just wish to confirm something.”

with that, her eyes lights up and for some reason, the same way your mother does when she offhandedly commends your ability to think just now, “right away, my lady!” the beam doesn’t go away nor so much as falter throughout the ride.

“we’re here to see mademoiselle vivian for my lady’s engagement party,” leslie approaches the worker that greets you when you came in.

you don’t miss the stare shot your way as you study the dresses wrapped around the mannequins until his jaw drops, possibly from the realization of who you are, “r-right this way, lady ___.”

the room you’re brought in is furnished with leather couches and extravagant patterns on its walls and curtains that make you wonder if there is such a thing as illegally pairing colors together.

only the higher ranking aristocrats, namely those from count families and above, would be able to afford clothes made by mademoiselle vivian, a foreign woman from a country across the seas who moved to cearis in search for a lover she’d met and fell deeply in love with but up until now, she still hasn’t found said lover.

or so the story goes.

perhaps it was a selling point to catch the eyes of helpless romantics - rich ones at that. but either way, she’s proved her talent through her intricate designs that time and time again sets off a new trend when a fairly influential noblewoman goes to a gathering in the dress she makes.

it’s no secret that krystal is a loyal customer to vivian’s. but then again, it has more to do about her looks than the dresses she wear. not that it matters to vivian because she’ll be dropping names of noblewomen who ordered dresses from her to gain trust from new customers.

but you’re not here for that.

“are the designs not to your liking, lady ___?” the woman’s bespectacled eyes bore into you after you let out a troubled sigh, eyebrows pulling together as though in deep dilemma.

“no, no, they’re all beautiful,” you let your words hang in the air for suspense before setting down the catalog and turning your whole body towards the woman, “it’s just... i want something that makes a statement, you see.”

“a statement...” she echoes.

“something like...” you murmur to yourself while she echoes your very words a second later.

“...a dress that tells other ladies that they can’t compare without being loud!” you clap your hands together, pleased that you’ve found the words you’ve been searching for.

it takes a moment of the woman burning a hole into the catalog of her designs while you take a sip of the lavender tea. it’s harder to find such tea and fewer can afford it because of the limited import and the high tax rate imposed seeing as only well-off nobles would usually have them at homes.

“i see it now,” she seems to have returned from a walk down the rabbit hole of laces and ribbons, “i don’t usually recommend this since the ladies that come to my shop need a little bit of help standing out - and my dresses do just that but! i think simpler designs would fit you and enhance your beauty like lady jung.”

you mentally cheer at the mention of the name, adding in a blink of surprise, “do you mean... krystal?”

“oh yes, she has the beauty of a crescent moon. a mysterious allure that attracts men and women alike...” vivian drones on with glazed eyes as though she’s descended over to another realm where the walls are tower high and plastered with krystal’s portraits posing in different dresses and her cat-like eyes seem to move wherever one goes.

“...but it’s a shame that her engagement with duke gillmore’s son’s been cancelled!” she ends with a dejected sigh as her shoulder line falls.

“the engagement’s been cancelled?” the fruit of your visit is turning ripe by the second as you clasp a hand over your ‘o’ shaped mouth.

almost as though realizing her slip up, vivian’s own hand shoots up to her mouth but for a different reason than yours, “oh, i shouldn’t be telling you this that since it’s not officially announced yet,” she meets your gaze with a hint of sparkle in them, whatever remorse she felt for revealing what isn’t due, has dissipated into the air, “bit to think the dress i made specifically for her engagement party would not be seeing the light of the day! it pains me so!”

the gillmores are the fourth and last of the ducal houses with the mins being the first and strong supporter of the royal family for hundreds of years. understandably, only two of the houses bear marriageable heirs to the title but with yoongi taking on the name grim reaper, naturally marquis jung would never allow krystal to marry him which leaves duke gillmore’s son as the only available candidate.

that was... until the crown prince who was engaged to a foreign princess was heartlessly murdered by his half-blooded brother. judging from how objective driven krystal is, she must have her eyes set on a bigger price than becoming duchess of the gillmore’s dukedom. and coincidentally so, as vivian mindlessly laments, the engagement was said to be cancelled two months ago which is around the same time seokjin must have called her to have her spread the rumor about you and yoongi’s engagement.

“my lady, have you gotten what you came here for?” the woman sitting across from you in the carriage finally breaks the silence after loyally following your lead as you bid vivian a half-hearted farewell because ‘i’ve realized i can’t make decisions like this on my own! please have the catalogs to the min residence. i’ll review them with my fiancee once he gets back.’

“leslie,” you feel a smile bloom across your face, “we’ve got ourselves a queen.”

x

for the rest of the week, you find yourself swarmed with letters and invitations to more social gatherings. back then, when you were just a marquis’ daughter and not a duke min’s fiance, invitations have not been scarce yet they’ve never been this overflowing. white envelops with varying house seals litter the white table in front of the window each day. before you can even finish reading those that accumulated in the inbox yesterday, a new bulk would have gathered by the end of today.

so when you hear the knock on your door, you don’t even bother asking who it was, only a short, “come in.”

in your engrossment in reading a letter sent from irene, you fail to notice the lack of footsteps after the noticeable click of the door swinging open and then shutting until it’s too late.

a black gloved hand props itself on the table while another gently settles on your shoulder, a distinctive scent of mint filling your senses. but the husky voice drumming in your ears is no stranger to you,“you’ve been busy.”

“yoongi!” the letter almost slips out of your hand as you crane your neck to gaze into a familiar pair of crimson eyes. but the surprise is short-lived as you become unnervingly aware of how close your faces are, so much so, you can feel his hot breath on your lips.

judging from how he still has his cloak and the formal knight uniform, he must have rode straight to your mansion after entering the boarders of the dukedom. why he chooses to do so, you don’t wish to indulge in.

“w-welcome back, how was the-” the words die on your throat as the coolness of his gloved thumb grazes your bottom lip.

you barely register the delicate “i missed you, ___,” that’s spoken within the minute space between his lips and yours before he closes the distance.

you’ve known those pink lips were soft from the kisses he leaves on the back of your hand but having them on yours are a separate matter altogether. it feels almost unfair that he’s the one who initiated the kiss but wouldn’t go further than a feather light peck before he pulls away, almost as though he thinks you’d break under the slightest pressure.

the faintest smile graces his features as though content to have felt you, to know that you’re not a dream. but on your part, it’s not enough and it will never be once you’ve had a taste of what sweet sacrilege tastes like.

you don’t have the time to admire the way those usually unbothered eyes widen, taken aback as your arm wraps around his neck, locking him within a birdcage large enough for him to stretch his wings but too small for him to escape.

when you break apart for air, you indistinctly register the burning sensation on your lips until yoongi’s eyes slants over them, finger hooked under your chin as he apologizes, “i might’ve been too rough.”

you’re not quite sure what he means, choosing to ignore such statements because he was every bit gentle - passionate, is a whole different story that you rather not think about as you invite him to sit in the chair across from you but instead, he drags it around and plops next to you. your knee brushes against his from time to time but you rather like the feeling of having a part of him touching you one way or another.

“your mother led me to your room,” he says simply, “i assumed you’d been informed.”

almost as though your mother’s scheming smile is ingrained in your head, you barely bat an eye at yoongi’s words as you sarcastically mutter, “i’m sure it must’ve slipped her mind.”

when leslie comes in with snacks, her lingering stare on your face does not go unnoticed but her free smile allows you to shake off the matter almost instantly.

“the inspection resulted in a graver findings,” yoongi apprises, blood red eyes holding your gaze as his next words sends a spear piercing through your heart, “we found children in the basement of the granary. the count’s been involved in human trafficking - nobody knows yet and the knights won’t say a word but once i report this to seokjin, it’ll be the only thing the capital will talk about for awhile.”

no nobility has ever truly lived an honest and clean life. if one were to dig even just the surface of a noble family’s activities, it isn’t hard to find corruption, bribery and even explanation to murders but to have been involved with human trafficking...

the smiling faces of the orphanage not too far from your mansion, flash at the back of your mind. the children had been in the poorest condition the first time you met them. but over time, they’d gained strength from the supplies you’d brought monthly and would come running to you and seokjin whenever you visited. it’s been awhile since you saw them after seokjin’s coronation and the distribution of supplies had been done by the people from the palace with the help of the servants from your house. the circumstances has significantly improved over the year but the thought of someone going as far as exploiting young children, those who were supposed to be under his care and protection makes your stomach churn.

you should have known. should have looked deeper into the activities of that degenerate count-

“not matter how much resource you have, you couldn’t have seen this coming.” the arms that wrap around your body are warm as they pull you flush against a chest. you don’t even realize you have your hands clenched into fists and trembling for the longest time until your shoulder line sags and all the strength inside your body seems to seep out your pores. if yoongi hadn’t held you, you would have hit the ground. either because of unbridled rage or unadulterated hopelessness.

you’re not sure how long time has passed with him holding you in his arms, but you don’t allow yourself the time to mope around more than you should. when you pull away, yoongi seems to have already expect the words that come out of your mouth, “i’ll make sure he’s stripped of his title and so are the people around him who stayed quiet.”

“i don’t doubt your capability,” his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand, “but that would mean punishing every single commoner in his territory.”

the sound of your gritting teeth drums in your ears as your jaw sores, “they probably didn’t have anyone to turn to when their own lord was behind the atrocities plaguing their village,” a lump forms in your throat, you can only imagine the state the children were found in.

a hand wraps around yours, thumbs smoothing over each of your palms, “you saved them. if you hadn’t thought to suggest the trade, we wouldn’t have a solid reason to inspect the park family’s territory.”

“it was all his doing- he burst out first,” you swallow thickly, “i just reaped the seed he planted.”

a sigh drums in your ears, forcing you to look up and meet the duke’s molten gaze as his shoulder line falls. almost as though he’s surrendering to a fight he knows won’t be in his favor, “no words i say can possibly lift the heavy burden off your chest.”

you don’t deny it.

“would you like to come with me to the palace? i’ll be heading there in three day’s time to report our findings to the king,” his eyes doesn’t seem to search through the windows of your soul, perhaps because he’s learned that he’ll reach a dead end - a wall of thorns. the only way he’ll ever figure you out is if you let him through.

but he at least knows your answer if he’s leaning back against the chair, almost as though he’s turning his back on the wall and chose to tread back to the direction he came from, “i’ll pick you up some time at noon.”

x

yoongi is reluctant to leave the mansion - or rather, you. the look in his eyes when he looks back at you before mounting his horse, reminds you of the puppy you had when you were a child. she would always rub her head on your leg whenever she saw you dolled up to leave for a party your mother was taking you to. as though begging you not to leave. but she’d always been the first to ligh up when she saw you alight the family carriage when you returned.

you find yourself stepping past the doors of the mansion where you’d intend to wave him off and coming to a stop a few feet away from the horse, “yoongi, can i visit you tomorrow?”

the faint smile breathes fire into your soul as those blood red eyes bore into you like a molten lava, “i was hoping you would. every single day until we get married, in fact.”

it is only after you watch the sleek black stallion disappear through the gates and into the streets, do you notice the maids who have gathered at the doors since the beginning. but their huddled forms as they swoon is the least of your concern.

“so something finally happened.” your mother gathers, nodding in approval as you walk past her with full intention to minimize the interaction - you’ve still not forgiven her for failing to alert you of yoongi’s arrival but even if you quiz her about it, she wouldn’t be able to see the wrong in her actions even if it’d slapped her in the face-

“was that your first kiss as a couple?”

whirling around on your heels, you feel the heat creep up your cheeks almost instantly, “mother! wh-what are you talking about? a-and in front of the maids at that!”

it seems that’s all the answer she needs as she laughs to herself, “dear daughter, i’ve been alive longer than you- you think i would believe you if you said that cut on your lips was from you walking into something?”

“what cut-” the memory of yoongi’s unsettling closeness floods your mind before his peculiar apology echoes in your ears, ‘i might’ve been too rough.’

five minutes later, after you all but sprinted to your room and made a beeline towards the mirror that stands a head taller than you beside your bed, does a bloodcurdling scream fill the recesses of the mansion.

“luckily, it’s just a minor cut, my lady,” leslie assures, her ever smiling features doing better to calm your rapidly beating heart and increasing bashfulness than your mother ever could.

you silently weep at the minute red line on your bottom lip. she’s right. it’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of cut and barely stings as you lather a thin sheen of healing ointment the woman brought after you requested it.

“this is humiliating,” you announce, holding a half-hearted vendetta towards the man whose eyes occasionally glaze over your lips during his visit but choose not to say anything else besides a cryptic indication of his lack of self-restraint.

it takes a whole evening of refusing to have dinner at the dining room and a pity party for yourself with flower petals for the muscles in your body to finally relax.

“what of the report i asked you to gather?” you quiz, hearing the pitter patter of someone’s footsteps going around the bathroom.

“most of them come up with similar information - nothing my lady does not know,” leslie’s fluttery voice reverberates against the walls.

“as expected, i’ll have to ask consult seokjin,” the sound of your teeth gritting drums in your ears, “the thought of him getting so smug just because i had to go to him makes me nauseous.”

with the issue human trafficking coming to light, it seems you can’t go around investigating about the nobles as you please, nor can any of your maids be seen asking around about it. discussing the matter with seokjin and gathering the intel you both have to unravel the nobles’ hidden trails would be a more reasonable course of action since they’ll be on high alert of yoongi since he was the one who brought the crime to light. from now on, even your movements might be closely watched.

x

yoongi bursts into your room the next day in a similar manner - unannounced - with a sort of expression you can’t pinpoint.

“don’t tell me my mother-” at first, you’re just about ready to storm to your mother’s room like a child throwing a tantrum until yoongi refutes, “i let myself in, the countess wasn’t around and the butler was too powerless to stop me.”

it takes you a moment to register what you heard, an image of the old family butler flashing at the back of your head. perhaps, it’s because it’s been awhile since you’ve been on the receiving end of yoongi’s frightening glare that you forget just how terrifying it is.

you’re suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when a hand tilts your chin upwards, leaving you with no other choice but to study the yoongi’s handsome face as he inspects the cut.

“i’m sorry,” the ghost of his touch burns your skin as takes a seat in the chair next to you, “i should have been more gentle.”

silence stretches on for the longest moment as you gather your words and sort out your thoughts but most importantly, you make sure to sound nonchalant about it, “you don’t have to... i liked how you kissed me.”

your mistake is letting your eyes roam up to his at the low hum that escapes him. a smirk curls on his lips as he gazes at you with his head propped against his hand, “should we do it again?”

“th-that-!” you hastily reply only to stop dead as the words get stuck in your throat. averting your gaze to the italic writings on the paper, you murmur, “...i’m not opposed to the idea.”

true to your words, you too easily comply when his gloved finger twirls the end of the ribbon around your neck, pulling you to him until your lips meet. a familiar sense of butterfly bursts in your stomach as you savor the taste of something sweet like chamomile tea on his lips.

for the rest of the day, you spend it by walking down the same street you did when he whisked you away from a dreadful tea party held by your mother right after the rumor of your engagement was confirmed by you dancing together at the ball. except now, you’re wearing a black hat with a veil covering your almost healed lips.

x

the day you’re to meet seokjin, the carriage with the min crest rolls into your residence some time a little past noon. not matter how many times he’s shown his unfaltering interest towards you, you can’t help but be surprised. today, he’s donned in his black and golden yellow knight uniform, signaling the formal business he has with his the monarch of the kingdom.

he presses his lips to your gloved knuckles, murmuring a soft, “how have you been?” as if reserved only for you and him.

“better,” you say, holding in a chuckle when his blood rushes to his cheeks and paints them red at your next words, “now that you’re here.”

you don’t miss the way he peeks at something over your shoulder, possibly where your parents stand at the doorway you just passed through. the chuckle you’ve become familiar of and rings like chimes hits the air, “___, why don’t we quickly get into the carriage and away from the count and countess’ eyes?”

“careful, duke,” a grin spreads across your face, hidden underneath the fan you hold just below your cheekbones, “if one were to overhear, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

and yet you don’t delay stepping into the carriage and plopping down next to the window where you can still see your father’s gentle smile that contrasts greatly with your mother’s deep frown.

“no! you absolutely will not go!” she hadn’t meant the palace - or perhaps, she did mean the palace since seokjin is the one who’ll ultimately decide whether you have permission to travel to-

“yoongi,” your fingers curl around the hand on your cheek, breath coming out heaved and eyes barely focusing as you pull away from the aforementioned man.

he doesn’t seem like he’s interested in a conversation but he’s not chasing after your lips either, almost as though his conscience is telling him to be the gentleman he’s raised to be and listen but the beast in his eyes is restless to continue devouring your lips.

so you go on, “i’m going to ask for seokjin’s permission to travel to the park family’s territory.”

the hand in your grasp remains still so does his entire body. the only indication that he’s affected at all is the way those crimson eyes widen with surprise, “what?”

almost as though belatedly registering the weight of your words a second later, he falls to the spot next to you, the legs cradling both your sides leaving  you and even with these layers of clothes, you begin to feel the cold creep onto you, “sure,” he begins after what seems like a moment of pondering, “it’ll take a day at most to gather the knights but a royal notice takes at least three days to arrive-”

“i don’t need them... knights, royal notices... you might as well announce our arrival with horns,” you pause, studying the man’s gaze as it bores into you whilst you meet him head on. your deepset hesitance and worries still hovers over you like a haunting ghost, but you don’t want to keep any more secrets, “there’s something i need to tell you about my mother’s side of the family.”

your mother was from a nameless baron family. nobody truly knew them until she’d made her debut and started mingling with high society. just like you, she was the only daughter. the lineage was to end with her had it been just another penniless noble family.

“they run an informant group and call themselves the kairos,” the carriage shakes, as though trembling with fear at the mention of that name. you would have thought yoongi had known all along - that seokjin had told him, if not for the briefest twitch of his eye, “they supply information for anyone who’s willing to pay but keep an eye for those asking for information that could threaten the royal family - even though the queen was a noblewoman who married into the royal family, my mother, the leader then had been reporting to her up until...”

up until the bells that hung high in the tower at the entrance of the palace rung somberly that day.

all of a sudden, the sun that seemed to shine brighter than diamonds underneath the sky started shutting everybody out, including her husband and daughter. there were times when the door to her study was wedged open just the slightest bit.  your mother who had noticed the creak of the hinges that needed oiling, wiped her tears and held her arms out for you.

the 10-year-old you didn’t understood what she meant when she promised she’d started living for you.

all you knew was, that was the point where she started becoming more present in your life. it took you another few years to learn that your family, greatly influenced by the countess rather than the count, had taken a full on neutral stance on the political matter and the rising rumor about the half-bred prince against the crown prince for the throne.

and a few more, after meeting said half-bred prince, to convince your mother to trust you for the decision you were about to make as the leader of kairos - to support seokjin as the next king no matter what it takes.

“i thought we eliminated scums like jimin as soon as seokjin took the throne but...” the words seem to be lodged in your throat, unable to slip past your lips.

yoongi heaves out a sigh, legs stretching over the space between the seat you’re on and the one across from it as he slumps against the cushioned backrest, silver hair brushing against his brows as crimson eyes stare at the cushioned ceiling, “so it was you? the one who tipped us about the king’s illegitimate son being sent to the battlefield?”

the war yoongi had been in had ceded faster than expected - though his victory was as sure as the ground you walk on. it was because yoongi and his men managed to single out the the warring king’s beloved son who he was forced to send to war because the palace had been a different battlefield that he still couldn’t fight, and held him as a war prisoner until the king surrendered.

“one of the enemy kingdom’s spy managed to infiltrate the palace and knew of our reputation from one of the maids who was sent by them since three years ago - we managed to dig out some information from him that not many outsider knew about before we eliminate him,” you muttered simply, the scream of the faceless spy had drummed in your ears and chilled you to the bones. unlike you who had to turn away in the last minute, seokjin had looked at the man’s eye whilst he thrust his sword into the spy’s gut.

he’d only sat on the throne for a month then but it was far from his first kill.

"when we first found the basement where the kids were held captive,” yoongi rasps somberly, “i was glad you didn’t come with - it wasn’t something i want engraved into your head.”

“i understand your wish to protect me from the viciousness of the world,” you slip your hand underneath the gap between his palm and knee, making him crane his neck to look at you, “i would’ve done the same thing even if you’d already seen them all at war but that protection we wish to cast upon each other only serves to paint a faux image of daisies and rainbows - an unrealistic euphoria.”

“your want to change things with your own hands will never cease, it seems,” he comments, crimson eyes clouded with a sort of reluctance yet he presses a kiss to your forehead, “we’re different in that aspect - you and i.”

“how so?” perhaps it’s the obvious question you’re asking the grim reaper that makes him laugh and flick your forehead right after he kissed it, perhaps it’s the childlike wonder but he explains it anyway, “you grasp fate at its neck and threaten to throw the entire world into chaos if it doesn’t let you decide your own path, and i...” callous thumb caresses your gloved knuckles, “...i follow mine with contempt and despise the goddess for the cursed blood that runs through my vein.”

“if it weren’t for that blood, i wouldn’t have considered striking a deal with you and end up marrying you,” your hand slips out of yoongi’s grasp only for it to wrap around his hand with your free one, “the blood that grants the power for its master to swing his sword and protect his kingdom could never be a curse.”

“that’s not what the rest of the world thinks,” he refutes, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

“does what the rest of the rest of the world think matter more than of those who actually know you?” you’re not sure of his answer. or if what you’re asking is even appropriate. the organ beating in your chest writhes with agonizing anticipation as the man’s crimson eyes bore into you like a liquid fire.

but if there’s anything you’re more sure of, it’s the fact that the servants at the min mansion has never shown a shred of fear while you worked with them to prepare for the garden party. the same couldn’t be said for the other noble families who were infamous for their ill treatment towards those who serve them.

grim reaper is but a name that does yoongi no absolute justice. he’s possibly the most dignified noble you’ve ever met.

“no - not anymore,” he murmurs, the faintest hint of smile curling on his lips as crimson eyes melt like ice come autumn.

he gathers you in his arms and you gladly let yours drape over his stomach, cheek pressing flush against his chest. you stay like that, in complete silence as the carriage shakes with each pebble and hole in the road, for the rest of the ride until it rolls to a stop in front of the palace walls.

x

“child trafficking is a serious crime,” seokjin speaks after a long, strenuous pause once yoongi finished reporting his findings within the park territory, “i bet park isn’t showing any sign of remorse, did he?”

a foreboding cloud hangs over the room as the man hunches over the oak table, elbows propped on its surface and clasped hands hiding half of his face. though he hides his expression well, you can see the way his shoulder line tremble with rage until he looks up at the silver haired man.

“actually,” yoongi’s lips press into a flat line as he seem to stare off into nothingness for the briefest moment before frowning, “he all willingly admitted that he’d committed the crime by himself.”

“what about his lackeys?” seokjin quizzes, fully aware that no lord does the dirty work.

“the dungeon was empty of save for the children - most likely they abandoned their lord for their own lives when they heard we were coming,” the head knight deduces.

a pause hovers over the as silence blankets the room.

“it’s suspicious no matter how you look at it.” your voice cuts through the air like knife.

“no man admits to his dirty crime just like that,” seokjin agrees and judging from yoongi’s knitted brows, he seems to know something you don’t.

“we didn’t believe it was that easy either but there was no proof of any other involvement besides the count,” he confesses - they must have raided nearby smaller granaries and questioned the people who you can easily guess, were tight-lipped.

“your majesty,” you take a step forward before dipping into a bow, an arm slanted over your chest as your hand clasps over the spot where your heart it, “i swear upon the honor of the leader of kairos, i will drag every last person involved in this to hell - please allow give me your permission to go to the park territory to investigate this matter further.”

this time, it doesn’t take long for seokjin to respond, “i was wondering why you didn’t storm over the moment you heard about the duke’s findings,” he leans back against his seat, eyes glazing with a ghost of the past, “love changes people, huh?”

“i-i’m not sure where you’re-” before you manage to barely calmly deflect seokjin’s ludicrous assertion, another voice speaks over you, forcing you to swallow the remaining of your words.

“your majesty, i ask your permission to escort lady ___ in her journey,” yoongi mimics your position in your periphery.

it takes a moment for his words to register and another for you to debate on the pros and cons of having a knight, bound to uphold the law, join you in a not so equitable quest for a justified cause.

yet you lower your head, “his grace will be my only other companion, your majesty. please allow it.”

but the answer you thought to receive isn’t one that he gives, “what about miss leslie? you always go with her.” 

standing straight, you study seokjin’s deep frown before coming to a conclusion that you’ll probably never understand the man’s way of thinking even if you tried.

“i believe his grace will do a better job at guiding me since he’s been there before.” is all you say.

“this is unacceptable!” the sound of skin smacking a hard surface echoes against the wall, you have to resist to check if his hand is red from slamming it onto the table that hard, but he persists like without blinking, “an unmarried man and woman travelling together without servants... what would people think?”

“the question is, your majesty, why are you thinking anything would happen besides his grance and i working to unravel the people involved in this syndicate?” your voice takes on a dangerously low tone as you meet seokjin’s startled gaze.

“e-either way, i’m the king and i say jungkook will go with you,” he announces.

“y-your majesty? b-b-but-” the man in question’s head snaps in the king’s direction faster than you can blink. almost as though seeing a ghost, jungkook’s complexion pales instantly at the order.

“you’re sending the prime minister to do undercover work. outside of the capital, at that.” you point out in a matter of factly. as the silence stretches on, the more ridiculous the scenario seems to be but seokjin isn’t seokjin if he doesn’t try to refute you.

“he hasn’t taken the governmental examination yet,” he holds his chin high like that of a king.

“he’s been filling in for the prime minister anyway,” you challenge, refusing to back down as you hold the king’s equally defiant stare, “and it isn’t so kingly of you to stop your most loyal subjects from serving the kingdom - his grace and i going as leader of kairos and head knight to carry out your bidding, your majesty.”

it’s the jab at his position that makes his eye twitch. after having spent over five years by the other’s side, you know each other’s strengths enough to trust the other with your lives. but the downside is, you also know the other’s weakness like the back of your hand.

“ah, that’s true,” when his tone turns sweet and his shoulder line relaxes, yours stiffen as you narrow your eyes at the man’s sudden shift of personality - and true enough, you don’t like how he decides to take a jab at your- “since members of kairos have been decreasing and as a result, the guild barely have any influence outside of the capital, i suppose you would benefit from having yoongi come with you.”

he knows full well you hate relying on others because of your chest full of pride. yet you force on a smile that points in all the wrong anger, head lowering as you mechanically mutter, “thank you for your consideration, your majesty.”

x

note. and that is all for this chapter! (apparently we’re not having just 4 chapters + finale). 

taglist. @fanfuckingfic @ayujmi @deathkat657

[pikemoreno]

so long

pairing: ezra (prospect) x reader

request: anon: “’Lay your head in my lap and try to get some rest.’ for your choice?”

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none, it’s mildly angsty and then there’s a little splash of fluff

a/n: i’m... incapable of writing short drabbles. it’s fine. first time writing for ezra. ahhhh. so exciting, but so hard and so nerve-wracking. hope you enjoy. and i still hate naming things lol.

He hadn’t seen you in so long that he wondered how his feet still knew the way to your door at all. Though now that he was here, his hand didn’t seem to remember how to knock.

He guessed that was due to his having to use his non-dominant hand for such tasks now. The last time he was at this door he was still in possession of all of his limbs. Last time he was here he also still had a key. No knocking necessary. 

A lot of things were different from last time he was in this spot. He was more youthful then: his eyes were brighter, the crease between his eyebrows shallower. He hadn’t killed. His zest for life was grander, his need to explore still unsatiated.

The knuckles of his left hand lifted to knock, but didn’t follow through. He chewed on his bottom lip, beginning to second-guess that perhaps you wouldn’t want to see him now. 

It had been nearing 200 cycles since he’d left. You used to come with him: hopping planets, prospecting, roughing it, no attachments but each other. The two of you had landed on this civilized little planet about 300 cycles ago now. The original intention was to stay for a while just to resupply and sell your harvest. By the 50th cycle on the planet Ezra was itching to move on, needing to stretch his legs again.

He was sure you would be packed within the hour and ready to move on with him, just as it always was. That was when you shakily told him that you were ready to be rooted. The dangerous vagabond life had served you well for a thousand cycles, but you were aching for security. You’d anxiously told him you’d found a school of higher education that was interested in taking you on-- both of you. 

He got so angry. 

It killed him to think of it now. 

He’d been so upset that you’d gone behind his back, looking for work when you had work already.

With him.

You’d calmly explained to him that your settled life absolutely included him. You didn’t want it without him.

He didn’t listen. 

Why didn’t he ever listen?

He was so good at talking. Why hadn’t he taken just one day with you to talk about the situation? He’d owed you that. He’d owed you so much more than that and he couldn’t even deign to humor your desire to stay rooted.

He took off in the middle of the night, leaving his side of the bed a cold, empty space for you to wake up to. He left nothing of his behind and told you nothing about where he was going.

He did it out of pain and anger, feeling betrayed. It’d ended up only breeding more pain and anger in him, spending his nights thinking about how much he wished he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t imagine how much more betrayed you must’ve felt.

He’d wanted to return so long ago to make it right. He’d decided as soon as he set foot to ground that The Green was his last stop, no more than ten cycles. Ten so quickly turned to far more, wrench after wrench thrown in his plans. 

It’d been so long now. He’d been stewing over this for so long.

There was no way you’d want to see him. There was no way you’d recognize him: physically, emotionally, or mentally. He was a different man now, one that he wasn’t entirely proud of. Even if you did take him back, he found himself insecure about the fact that he wouldn’t be able to hold you the same, that he struggled with daily tasks, that he’d just be a burden to your, surely, now steady life.

He knocked anyway.

There was light shuffling behind the door and then it was swung open in a moment of truth.

You froze.

He froze.

Ezra wasn’t often rendered speechless, but in this moment his vocabulary was simply not enough to express his frustration, his remorse, his ardent admiration, and utmost joy to be in your presence again. Words didn’t suffice, so he simply stood there. His eyes flicked over you, taking in your familiarity, the way you had hardly changed, only becoming more ethereal in the 200 cycles. He watched your eyes trail over his much different appearance, settling on his missing extremity for a second, just a second, though the sad look in your eyes lasted several seconds longer.

“Apologies,” he mumbled finally, helplessly, tears threatening to take over his vision for the first time in so long, “I shouldn’t have--” he backed away, starting back the way he came.

“Ezra,” your voice suddenly sounded behind him. It was so small and unsure, but not a question. It was a call. Distinctly a call for him to come back. He wouldn’t ignore that call for him a second time. It turned him back around immediately. And when his eyes met yours again it stopped every word that was about to come out of your mouth. “I--” You shook your head, unable to continue.

“A sentiment I concur with,” he gave a quick half-grin.

“Would you like to come inside?” 

He could only nod, allowing you to lead the way. The space was largely unchanged, but with a few extra pieces of furniture to make it more liveable long-term. It was surprisingly nice like this. He could get used to it, if you would let him. You sat down on the couch that spread across the living space. His eyes, heavy lidded with physical and emotional exhaustion, asked for your permission to join and you patted the space next to you in response. He fell into it with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking. 

“I do apologize most profusely for all the harm I’ve surely caused you. There were so many things I should not have done, first and most of all ever having left you in the first place.” 

“Not now,” you cooed, “You look exhausted.” 

“I must know if I could ever win your forgiveness.” You sighed.

“We’ll talk about this. We will. We’re going to have a lot to work through, you and me. You broke me.” His face was downcast as he took in those words. He was expecting them, but it didn’t make it any less hard to hear. “But I’m more than willing to work through this… Work for this.” His eyes shot back up to you instantly, too big and shining and hopeful for the life he’d seen. “But you look exhausted right now. Lay your head in my lap and try to get some rest,” you smiled a little sadly, “Like old times.”

“I am indeed fresh from The Green,” he murmured back, doing as commanded, “To have a soft place to lay once again is a luxury. But I fear I will not be a particularly pleasant companion at this time, birdie.” His words ended in a low hum as your hands so naturally returned to their old habits, threading their way through his hair. 

“Well, you will be much more pleasant when you’re sleeping at any rate,” you teased. And he laughed. A real, hardy laugh.

“Oh how I’ve missed your endless wit, starlight,” he mused, eyes already drooping in response to the warmth and the calming motion of your fingertips against his scalp. 

“And your unending loquaciousness, moon and stars. It’s been too quiet.” 

“I will never allow this space to hear silence again, if you’ll let me.”

Taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @dindjarindiaries @mistermiraclee​

[brandstifter-sys]

Under Pressure

Chapter 11: Tennis            (Ao3)

Word Count: 1408

Relationships: Royality, implied Royaliceit

Characters: Roman, Patton

Rating: T

Warnings: Villain!Logan, mood swings, emotional confrontation, fire, mild angst

----

It was strange passing through the door, like he was pulled on a different path from the others, like splitting apart from his brother all those years ago. Roman couldn't be sure why he felt that tug in his navel but he knew it meant trouble.

"What the hell is this?" Patton questioned as the two of them entered the room. It was odd. The ceiling was higher than expected, about twenty feet up, and the left wall was a giant mirror. There were six outcoves on the back wall, close to the tile ceiling, all blocked by glass.

"It's a puzzle, Padre, obviously," Roman scoffed and scanned the ground, "Why don't you pretend to have the answers while I figure this out."

"What?" Patton questioned in disbelief. Roman shrugged and carefully paced along the tiles, searching for switches and traps.

"I'm not blind to your tactics," Roman shrugged, "and you played me for a fool for long enough, I ought to know by now." Patton's jaw dropped, too flabbergasted to even squeak indignantly. He glared at the king, fighting back the bile of harsh words brewing in the back of his throat. Roman paid him no mind, more focused on the floor. There were two tiles that were sightly raised and off-color.

“My tactics,” Patton hissed after a beat of silence, “were never meant to influence you that much. I was confused and trapped in a corner. Wasn’t it obvious I was pushing and pushing for my own sake?”

“If it were obvious, then mark me as oblivious,” Roman quipped and stood on one of the raised tiles. It sank under his weight and merged with the rest of the floor.

“If you’re so unsure about what you should be doing, make yourself useful and come here and stand on this switch,” Roman commanded with a regal air that made Patton see red.

“How about you ask nicely instead, since I’m a person, not a dog,” the emo huffed and crossed his arms. Roman stared at him tiredly and rolled his eyes. He was going to be trapped here with Patton for a very long time.

“Would you please make yourself useful and stand on this switch?” he asked as if the words burned his mouth, caramelizing the sickeningly sweet tone he opted for. Patton huffed and marched over to him, gracelessly shoving him aside and standing where he was told. Roman stuck his nose in the air and marched two feet to the other switch.

A satisfying click sounded when Roman's weight caused the switch to slide in place. Then a loud noise overhead caught both of their attention. The glass blocking the outcoves lowered, exposing the candles to the air.

"We need to light them. I could throw you, and that fiery temper of yours would do the trick," Roman mused.

"You're the one who was literally on fire, I should be throwing you!" Patton argued and crossed his arms, "But we shouldn't have to throw anyone."

"Is this another one of your moral lectures?"

"No! Think about it! It's a puzzle! Would Logarithms really want to make any of us use brute force to get back to the main mindscape?!" Patton fumed. There had to be a trick to it all. He couldn't jump high enough to light those tiny candles, and he couldn't throw Roman. Besides, the wind would blow out any matches.

"I suppose you have a point," Roman sighed dramatically and flicked his wrist, conjuring a ball of fire, "It's too far to aim a blast of fire, even if you had the strength to throw me." He lazily bounced the ball on the ground and caught it, using the motions to help him think.

Patton would have corrected him, he was strong enough, but his attention was on the fireball. He couldn't look away from the swirl of flames moving up and down.

"I suppose we'll be here for a while," Roman mused, "you could use it to apologize to me."

"It wouldn't matter, I can only apologize so many times, you don't want to forgive me. I don't want to forgive me, but I know demanding another apology won't change my mind," Patton said and slumped his shoulders, still hypnotized by the fire.

"Patton I trusted you, I believed that you could never steer me wrong. I loved you and you turned my world upside down. Now I have to depend on my own judgement, and I don't know how I can forgive you without becoming dependent on you."

"Then don't. But stop asking me to apologize if you don't want to accept it. I can tear myself apart fine on my own. I hurt everyone and now the only one who actually wants to talk to me is Janus."

"Say one foul word about him and I'll—"

"I hurt him as bad as I hurt you, but he's still willing to hear me out and help me do better," Patton cut him off, blushing brightly, "He really cares deep down and he gives me the honey glows something fierce."

"You dare try to steal my queen?!"

"He's not your property, and last time I checked you decided you hate him and you insulted him repeatedly," Patton snarled and glared at him, "Or is that just how you show people that you love them?" Roman paused and stared at him, never halting with his toy. Patton sniffed and shook his head.

"No, that would mean you love me and I can't handle that kind of revelation," he sighed and blinked back tears. Roman was silent, studying him. The only sound was the impact of the fireball on the floor, echoing in the empty room.

That crackling and echoing bouncing was maddening, like the silence was deafening. Patton's eye twitched as the slow rhythm got louder and louder. He wanted to hear Roman denounce his claims, that he didn't love him. He would have been okay with him changing the subject, or even confirming his statement—anything but the looming doubt and wordless passage of time.

"Roman, stop bouncing the ball," Patton demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his fists to quell the rage bubbling up from his core.

"I need it to think. You don't want to be trapped here forever," Roman answered stiffly, not stopping, "Unless you have an idea, stand down."

Patton snarled and reached into his inventory. He had just the thing to break up that rhythm.

"By Zeus!" Roman yelped as Patton slapped his ball from under his hand, narrowly missing the royal fingers with the rim of a tennis racket.

The fireball hit the wall and hurdled back toward Patton. With a growl, he smacked it away, sending it upward toward the candles.

Roman's jaw dropped as his creation uncurled and vanished, lighting one of the candles. A grin spread across his face as he conjured another.

"How's your aim?" the king asked almost smugly, "You might have found our escape, Sunny Dad Real Estate."

"Better than yours," Patton jeered, already feeling the rush of adrenaline and endorphins filling him. Roman scoffed and tossed the fireball at him. He spiked it up and got another candle.

Roman kept throwing more balls, amused by the change in Patton's expression with each one. His bright smile was returning as well as his bubbliness. Roman's heart swelled when a giggle escaped Patton's lips as the final candle was lit.

"Perhaps you are right," Roman said finally, "Maybe I shower my beloved with ire and ill-tempered words. Perhaps it's my turn to—to apologize to you, Patton." The fire behind his eyes was reduced to embers, and Patton swore he saw the prince in that gaze.

"I'm—I'm sorry for treating you so poorly and demanding so much emotional labor. I would have followed you to the ends of the earth without question, you were my hero. Now I can see that I don't want a hero. I want a partner, perhaps not in a romantic sense, but a companion to support and be supported by."

Patton's jaw dropped at the same time as a door opened on the back wall. Without thinking he tackled Roman into a hug, far too elated to care about the exit appearing.

On the other side of the mirror, Remus watched the pair and groaned. He would need them to get to the next room, his current room, to keep going.

----

(Master Post)