#ToP Historical Scan

[alastor-simp]

Horror Movie Night😈 - Alastor x Reader

Charlie wanted to find an activity to bring everyone together, since a lot of the personalities in the hotel would clash. She had made a list of ideas, but majority of them were turn down for being too childish. The last option was a movie night with everyone, and surprisingly everyone agreed. The genre of movie was the real problem. Charlie wanted a musical. Vaggie had a preference for drama. Angel dust preferred either a steamy flick (aka porn) or comedy. Niffty voted for romance. Husk didn't really care, but he wouldn't be upset if it was an action movie. Sir Pentious was interested in historical / documentaries. Alastor was not a big fan of modern technology especially television, but he would give it a try if the movie was a horror. You enjoyed all genres of movies, so it didn't matter which one you saw. Coming up with an idea, you suggested pulling a name out of the hat, to decide the genre of movie that gets picked. Borrowing Husk's hat for a bit, everyone wrote their name on a piece of paper and tossed it in. After a quick shake, you grabbed the first piece of paper and pulled it out.

Yelp, looks like it was going to be a horror movie as Al's was the name you pulled out. Everyone had made their way to the couch, while some of them sat on the floor. They were all dressed in their pajamas. Niffty had made popcorn and drinks for everyone to enjoy during the movie. Charlie was lighting some candles to add some effect when the movie was playing. Next to you on the couch was Alastor. He was wearing a red stripped top, and black lounge pants. He seemed very cozy. "Hey Al. What movie did you pick?" Alastor looked at you, smiling big as always. 'Well my dear, I picked whatever seemed interesting! I hope you will enjoy it!" Giving an awkward smile back, your eyes turned toward the TV as soon as Charlie pressed play. You didn't mind horror movies, but being the scaredy cat that you were, they still made you scream.

The movie that Alastor picked was "The Descent." The start of the film was a bit slow, but it slowly began to build up overtime. It got to the point in the movie where the characters had entered into the large cave, to explore. Yeah, that was already a red flag. Scanning your eyes around the room, you took in everyone's reactions. Charlie and Vaggie were hugging the life out of each other. Niffty was smiling, but she was clutching on to her plushie very tightly. Angel was on edge and tried to cling on to Husk, only to be pushed back by him. Angel huffed and decided to a least grab Husk's hand for comfort, and Husk allowed that at least. Sir Pentious was cowering on the floor, wrapping his whole tail around him. Alastor was just smiling next to you, obviously enjoying where the movie was going. You, on the other hand, was getting a very bad feeling in your stomach as the characters kept exploring the cave. The pillow that you were holding was being used as a shield as you kept hiding behind it, waiting for something to happen.

The climax of the movie had arrived when the grotesque bat-like monster had made an appearance and proceeded to feast on one of the characters. Everyone in the room had screamed and jumped, including you, as you covered your face with the pillow. There was a chuckle to your right as Alastor was laughing, at both the movie and your adorable reactions. From the start of the film, Al was seeking glances at you, wondering what your next reaction would be. The face you made when the dread set in was highly entertaining to him. However, he did pity you a bit, as he could see that the movie was frightening you tremendously. Unbeknownst to you, you felt someone drape their arm behind your shoulders, pulling your body closer towards them. Looking up from the pillow, it was clear that it was Al who had done it. His eyes were still watching the movie, clearly enjoying the gruesome moments. Not saying a word, you continued to watch the movie, but the feelings of fear had diminished a bit due to Alastor's actions. The movie had finally ended, as the credits began to flash on the screen. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except Al . Clapping with glee, he found the movie quite invigorating. Vaggie rolled her eyes at him, while whispering "creepy weirdo" under her breath. It had gotten super late, so it was time to head for bed.

Wishing everyone a good night sleep, you carried yourself back to your room, despite the prickling sensation that you felt crawling up your back. That movie was still on your mind, but you tried to push the fear away. Alastor was following from behind , since the both of you were next door neighbors. "Feeling alright, my dear? That picture show had you shaking like a leaf!" He was definitely smirking when he said that. "No s✪✪✪, Sherlock." Grumbling your response back at him, you continued to make your way to your cozy abode. Having arrived at the door, you turned to Al, who had just arrived at his door. "Good night, Alastor." "You as well, my dear!" Making over to the bed, you laid down and got under the covers, adjusting yourself to get comfortable. It took a while, but the droopy feeling had taken effect on your eyes, and you fell into a deep sleep. Pitch blackness was all around you. The muscles in your body felt like they had been ripped apart. The air felt heavy, almost dry like you were underground. Something was moving around you, circling you, watching you. The monstrous sounds it made created a haunting echo. You begged your body to respond, it was no use. The sounds were coming closer. No. NO! You bellowed out a scream.

"Y/N!!" Someone was shaking you, causing your eyes to snap open. Your body was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. You slowly realized that you had a nightmare. Alastor was in front of you, hands on top of your shoulders. His glowing eyes eyeing you with concern, yet his smile was still present. "A-Al? W-what's wrong? W-why are you in m-my room?" Struggling out a response, your eyes looked at Al in confusion. "My dear, I had heard your shrieks of terror and rushed over! It appeared you were having a nightmare! A rather horrible one at that!" He was still holding on to you, which gave you some comfort. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I disturbed your sleep." Taking in a few deep breaths, helped tremendously as you were able to talk properly and control the shaking. Shaking his head, Al had let go of your shoulders, and moved his hands to your cheeks. "Darling, there is no need for you to apologize! But, may I ask what were you dreaming about?" Massaging your cheeks like a cat, Al smiled down at you, softness in his eyes. Explaining it in full detail, Al realized that the film you had witness, was the main cause of the night terror. He had known that you were scared, but not to the point it would result in you kicking and screaming in your sleep. He needed to rectify this.

"Come along, my dear!" Your body left the sanctity of your bed, and ended up in Alastors arms. He was carrying you like a bride. "W-what Al?! Where are you taking me?!" Whispering at him, while your brain was trying to wrap around this situation. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you an optimistic smile. "To my room!" There was no time to refute back as the both of you had arrived at his door. Creaking loudly, the door to his room had opened by itself. His room was like something out of a story book. One side was the normal room decor, illuminated with candle light. The walls were plastered with Alastor's personal trinkets and stag heads. The other side was saturated in moss, tall pine trees looming above. Chirps of crickets could be heard and glowing fireflies were flying around. Eyes widening in amazement, you continued to gaze around the room, earning a laugh from Al. In the center of the room, was an enormous bed, covered in satin sheets and black pillows. "How... How were you able to do this?" You breathed out, as Al placed you on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled down at you, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah! A magician never reveals his secrets, my dear!" A thought popped in your head: "Where was he going to sleep." Snapping his fingers, Alastor used his powers to snuff out the flames from the candles, leaving only the fireflies as a source of light. Realization hit you, causing you to jump off the bed, leaving Al staring at you in confusion. "Wait Al! Are you okay with this? Sharing a bed?" Alastor looked at you, head crooked to the side. "Why of course! Are you oppose to the idea? Haven't you had your share of sleepovers with the effeminate spider?" Well yes you had, but this situation was different. "I'm not opposed to it, but I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with." You told Alastor this, rubbing your arm with your hand.

He was still befuddled by your statement until he began to wrap his head around of what you were saying. How charming you were! Thinking of him and his aversion to physical contact. "Darling, There is no need to worry." His body moved to crawl under the covers, sitting on the bed and looking at you. His finger pointed towards you, beckoning for you to return back to the bed. Still hesitant about the whole situation and observing his body language, it came to your decision that he was really okay with it. Your feet carried you back over, and slowly made its way under the covers, plopping your head on the pillow. Al huffed, a little annoyed that you didn't follow his instructions. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Your head was engulfed in his chest, feeling his chin, nuzzling it. "Comfortable, Y/N?" A warm breath whispered into your ear. His voice sent chills down your back, while also causing your heart to skip a beat. "Mmph" was your response, as your mouth was muffled against his chest. Hearing a hum from above, you felt Alastor nestle closer, hooking his leg over yours. The static emanating from him had quieted down and the thumping sound of his heart sounded much clearer. Extending out a yawn, your eyelids began droop while listening to the calming sound of Al's heartbeat. Soon, your eyelids had closed and you fell into a deep sleep.

Managing to stay awake, Al had watched you, making sure you were able to relax. He never in a million years thought he would be doing something like this. He was the radio demon, the most fearsome and all powerful overlord. Everyone trembled in fear from the sight of him, yet here he was now, cuddling you in his bed. He was getting soft, which displeased him greatly, yet he couldn't help but find it comforting as well. Your very-being was changing him, in both a good and bad way. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts away as he had a busy schedule tomorrow and needed to be well rested for his broadcast. Nuzzling closer, Alastor hugged you tighter. His glowing eyes dimmed and he had fallen asleep as well.

[pasteidolons]

aphelion - hjs

pairing: archaeologist!hong jisoo x curator!reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, short story other characters: kim mingyu, xu minghao, choi seungcheol, park sooyoung, kang seulgi warnings: afab reader, alcohol use, cursing, smut (oral, p in v sex), people not able to talk out their feelings word count: 13.5k summary: the past catches up to you at an archeology exhibit in the italian town of pompeii. feelings trapped and unknown come to light when you end up face to face with someone you thought you’d never see again.

It’s not that the Italian sun is unfamiliar to you, you’d basked in its glow on a handful of occasions as you had traveled and worked in this country rich in both wine and history. The sun bearing down on you isn’t harsh, but it isn’t kind either, its soft rays acting to lull you into a dreamlike state of relaxation and wonder as it swallows the fluorescent lights of the airport as the sliding glass doors lead you outside and into its heat. Stone pines reaching towards the heavens, it is a strangely comforting feeling to see them looming above the cypress trees that adorn the landscape around the Naples airport. Maybe it’s you just thankful to be back on solid ground, the flight had been turbulent and the line at customs hellish. All you really want is a nap.

“Oh my god I can’t believe we made it,” hand finding the rim of a jet-black pair of Ray Bans, Park Sooyoung’s attention is drawn to the bright sky above, cloudless and blue as it reflects in the lenses of her glasses. “How long is the drive to the house?”

You and your friend had met up a few days earlier in order to travel together to an archeological conference in the historical hotspot of Pompeii. She, being an archivist in New York, and you, being one in London, had rarely seen each other since your grad school days and took this as an opportunity to convene with another friend, Mingyu, and play catch-up. It isn’t the most ideal of circumstances, since this is a work trip, but you’ll take what you can get in stride and hope for the best.

Papers folding and bending against each other as the pair of you stroll through the exit terminal, various cars and buses aligning the strip to both pick up and drop off passengers, you sigh, “Half an hour?”

The now meaningless plane tickets and visa information are now tucked away in a pocket of your bag, gone to the world until you’ll need it again to assess your travel information for reimbursement purposes. Flying on the company dime isn’t something you’re unwilling to do.  

From what your phone had told you and the various guides that had tried to help in the airport, you’re looking at a relatively short journey to the home you’ll be staying in. Your other hand holds the grip of your rolling suitcase as it trails behind you, clicking against the tile underfoot, “Although, Mingyu said that he could drive extra fast if we needed to get there sooner.”

The only way you can tell that your friend’s eyes had widened is from her eyebrows peeking out from the top of her sunglasses and her mouth left slightly agape at your statement, “No thanks. If it’s anything like it was back in New York, I’d prefer to live this weekend.”

Small laugh escaping you, you know she’s excited to see him, but she’d never admit as much. “He said he’d be under the Alitalia sign,” eyes scanning the cars but more importantly the faces of the drivers to try and determine a recognizable one among the masses.

“There he is!” Sooyoung’s voice, shrill and excited, calls out as she rushes over to a small red Fiat parked parallel between two large tour buses. A roll of your eyes at how obvious she’s being, it isn’t tooth rottingly sweet, but it is certainly something.

He’s leaning atop the small car’s hood when he hears the delighted call of your friend, eyes trailing upwards from the phone in his hand and a dimpled smile gracing his lips as he watches the two of you walking closer. “I was starting to think you took the wrong plane.” Phone slipped into his pocket, Mingyu pushes himself off the car and begins to walk towards you.

Sooyoung’s arms quickly wrap around his neck as she leaves you to catch her falling suitcase, a short ‘tch’-ing from your lips as she lets go of him and returns to her bag. “We got caught up in customs,” a step forward and you sling your arm around his neck in a quick hug before releasing him, “who knew July was prime tourist time?”

“The perfect reason to have a conference, huh?” He laughs, glancing towards Sooyoung’s and your luggage. “I’m not too sure all of this will fit in the trunk; someone might be stuck with it in the backseat.”

And that’s how you find yourself, head pressed up against the window as the rolling hills of the Italian countryside pass to your left, while a mountain of a collection of both Sooyoung and your baggage peeks into your periphery. Headphone in your right ear, you’d been listening to a podcast on your flight detailing different religions around the world and were continuing on listening to one detailing the festivities of the Roman holiday Saturnalia.

As you listen to how, while a merry tradition, it held underlying themes of human sacrifices and the benevolence/maleficence of the gods, you find yourself slowly nodding off as you press the side of your head against the glass of the window and close your eyes. Not before eyeing Mingyu looking over at Sooyoung with a smile on his face as her attention is rapt upon him. You’d made a bet with him when the three of you had first been acquainted as to just how long it would take him to ask her out. The way they look at each other is something you think only found in movies, it makes you yearn for an affection you don’t quite have in your life. Although you’d lost that bet, as they hadn’t so much as gone on a date, you can tell they’re just too chicken with one another to say anything.

The darkness of sleep quelled when Sooyoung quietly rouses you as she gently shakes your knee with her hand. She’s turned to look at you when your eyes crack open and the golden glow of the afternoon haloes her to make her look even more ethereal.

“Your forehead looks bruised,” a smile, more so caring than anything malevolent, on her lips as she knows how you’d barely slept the entire flight. “Mingyu said we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

A look out the window and you realize that the scenery has shifted significantly, becoming rockier as the sight of the mountain is now far more in view than it was when you’d fallen asleep.

“The house is on the southern end of Vesuvius, it’s actually pretty close to the ruins if you have time to visit while you’re here,” Mingyu notes, knowing how much Roman history had enthralled you in your earlier years of work.

“We’ve got a few days,” Sooyoung ponders as if she’d already planned out her free days at the conference, “I’m sure we can squeeze it in.”

Eventually the car winds its way through some narrow street at the base of the mountain and you come upon a small, rustic looking house. The walls are old, obviously not built in this century, but look well cared for. There is a small walkway leading around the side of the house and you wonder where it’ll take you, but most of your attention is focused on pulling your bags from Mingyu’s car.

“Your room’s the second door on the right after you go up the stairs,” Mingyu says as you make your way to the front door as he was now struggling with the weight of Sooyoung’s bags in his grasp.

After rolling your eyes at him you make your way inside, the dark wooden floors and pale beige walls greeting you rather plainly. There is something elegant about the simplicity, but your attention now lies on not losing your center of balance as you haul your bags up the narrow staircase. You follow his directions and move down the hallway and come to your room, bed made and the last glittering rays of sunlight peek in through the curtains on the singular window above the bed. It’s quaint and homely, something you hadn’t had for a very long time as you think to the dismal apartment you keep London.  

You descend the flight of stairs, thankful that you don’t have to tote any more luggage up from the car, and make your way into the kitchen. Perhaps you’d hoped to grab a glass of water, yet your actions halt when you see the figure of and older woman standing at the kitchen counter with several canvas bags in hand. She smiles and gives you a small wave while cheerily saying “Buona serata!”

Returning the gesture with a mumbled “Buona serata,” of your own, you skirt around the edge of the kitchen to grab a glass and pour yourself some water from a nearby pitcher.

“My landlord likes to come over every Friday to cook,” A voice from your right and you glance over and notice Mingyu standing beside you. “She says it’s because her family’s grown up now and she needs someone to care for.” A nod of your head as you watch the older woman unpack her canvas grocery bags, the contents full of things both familiar and foreign.

“Grazie mamma,” Mingyu smiles and walks forward, seeming to want to help his landlord in her cooking ventures. His helpful hands are eventually swatted away, her saying something rapid but you get the gist that she doesn’t need any aid.  

“What’s she making?” you ask as you catch sight of Sooyoung walk into the kitchen, almost as pale as a sheet as she makes way over to your side.

There’s a gentle tugging at your shirt as Mingyu questions his landlord. A glance to Sooyoung and she mouths ‘We need to talk’ before getting interrupted with Mingyu saying, “Chicken cacciatore with polenta, I think?” A buzz from his pocket and he looks at his phone, “My roommate’ll join us in a little while. He’s on his way back from a dig and shouldn’t be too long.”

Mingyu hadn’t mentioned his roommate too much, just said they’d met when their team was assembled to scour Site V in the ruins of Pompeii and they’d become fast friends. They’d been living with each other for almost a year now and you can't even recall the name even after Mingyu had probably mentioned it a handful of times when you’d talked over the phone.

“Sounds good,” you smile, tugging at your shirt becoming a little more forceful as the urgency in Sooyoung’s eyes is more prevalent. The landlord says something to Mingyu, and he answers with a nod and leaves the kitchen and heads into the living room. “What is it?” After a moment’s calm you turn to your friend, corners of your mouth turning downwards.

“I left my moisturizer at the hotel in Warsaw,” a gentle tugging again, pleading as she speaks once more, “Can I borrow yours?” The soft strums of a guitar and melancholy vocals of a woman emanating from the room Mingyu had left to go to, the landlord must’ve asked him to put on music.

“Is that what you were so weird about?” A gentle scoff leaving your lips as you nod, “Yeah, it’s in my-”

“I know!” She’s already bounding up the stairs and leaves you with the last of your sentence still in your throat.

“She hasn’t changed much, has she?” Mingyu asks as he reenters the kitchen. His gaze lingers on where Sooyoung once stood, a ghost of a smile noted by his dimples.

“Not one bit.” You note, “But you haven’t either, Mr. Kim. Your head is still stuck on Rome and on her.”

“She’s not-?”

“Dating anyone?” You interrupt at his worried tone, “No. Unless she’s got some hunk back in her lab.” A look of relief on his brow as you take a sip of water, “You know, you really should ask her out. She was excited to see you again.”

“It’s just,” a hum as he pauses to ruminate on his thoughts, “She’s all the way in New York and I’m here for who knows how long. It’d be difficult and I wouldn’t want to put that on a new relationship.”

“If you don’t think she’d pack her bags and move here you’d be lying to yourself,” A shake of your head as the sound of Sooyoung descending the staircase echoes around the small kitchen and brings your conversation to a stop. “It’s also Italy, for God’s sake.”

“I think your roommate’s here,” Sooyoung announces, stating that she’d seen a car pull into the already cozy driveway and turn its headlights off. Almost right as she finishes her sentence the sound of the front door opening catches everyone but the landlord’s attention, as she is too busy cooking and humming along to the music coming from the other room.

It’s funny how the memory of someone can stay so far gone in the depths of your subconscious that you can very well forget about them until they’re standing right in front of you. A fleeting glimpse into who and what you were before you’d blossomed into a more mature adulthood staring at you with eyes equally surprised as your own. A small ‘o’ shape of your mouth mirroring; the tousled hair, button down linen shirt and dust and dirt that clings to his khakis almost pulling you from the anchoring weight of the past. A small smile as he looks to Mingyu, the landlord and Sooyoung before hoisting a bottle of wine in the air, “I didn’t want to come in empty handed for our guests.”

“There he is,” Mingyu nods to the former, “This is my roommate Josh, we’re both partnered up on the same dig team.”

Jisoo. His name is Jisoo. “It’s-” you begin but falter almost immediately, unknowing if your friend is aware of the lingering history between both you and his roommate.

“Nice to meet you,” an interjection from Sooyoung as she nods towards Jisoo, eyes trailing down to the bottle in his hand. “Would you mind if we crack that open now? It’s been a long day.”

Dinner had gone and passed more jovial than you’d thought it would, despite the coldness emanating from Jisoo who sits at the opposite end of the table as you. Fingers fiddling with the fork of your dessert plate, you prod at the panacotta lying half eaten in front of you as your appetite had been sated the moment Jisoo said that it was his favorite dessert.

Maybe he notices the lull in conversation, the sound of crickets chirping rising over the once chattering group, “So where did you and Josh meet?” Attention more turned towards Sooyoung rather than to yourself. Maybe it’s a slight to you but you don’t blame him, it only furthered the aching feeling in your chest as you bring your glass to your lips and drink the fiery vintage.

“We were all three interning together in New York our- what- senior year of college?” Sooyoung muses, lifting her wine glass to her mouth and taking a small sip, twirling the remnants of the local Lacryma Christi wine to aerate it further once she’d finished drinking. “Right?” She looks to Mingyu, who’s toying with another bottle of wine behind the three of you. The small bottle opener in hand, he only replies with a simple ‘Yeah,’ before furrowing his brow and setting back to try and uncork the stubborn bottle.

Elbows on the table as a flushed Jisoo leans in, “Where did you go to school?” He had always held his alcohol well, had something changed since you’d last seen him? Jisoo seems far more tipsy than he should be after two glasses of wine.

“It’s a small all girl’s school you’ve probably never heard of,” A wave of her hand as she sets her glass down onto the wooden table. “What about you?”

“Hamilton,” A glance to you, brief and painful, before he turns back to your friend, “But I also studied abroad in Korea for a little bit too.”

“Ah, you went there too. And you also studied abroad, right?” Sooyoung looks to you, brow raised in question as her index finger circles the top of her glass, inviting a response that you never wanted to give. “Did you know each other?”

“We knew of each other.” The sound of Mingyu pulling the cork from its home resonates around the small kitchen as you speak.

It was a Tuesday night, you’d just started watching Derry Girls and the cooling cycle of your AC unit had just kicked up with its trilling noise when a text on your phone buzzed, the words of the infamous “You up?” blaring across the screen in bold black letters. It was 10:47PM and you had a nine am the next day, you really shouldn’t respond. You could say no, say that you’re tired and want to go to bed instead of fucking your friend for the umpteenth time when he was trying to get over some girl he’d been chasing after on and off for your whole college career. But you didn’t, you wouldn’t ever because there’s that undeniable loneliness you had where human affection is a sought-after substance when you refused to forge the intimate bonds that held a man close to a woman. Or a man to a man. Or woman to a woman. Or to whoever preferred whoever. You aren’t one to judge.

Leaving the text for a moment, maybe two, to ruminate and stew in the Atmos of the unknown you responded saying “Only if you’ve got a bottle with my name on it.” Phone discarded onto your sofa you didn’t move again until he replied that he’d be over soon.

And with that you were off to the races to tidy up, clean bits and wipe of counters and take out the trash as you know he’s either on his way to the store, or already there, to pick up the treasured Cabernet Sauvignon that tasted of regret and unspoken vows the next morning. It was a solemn ritual; you’d drink as he lamented over the girl (half a bottle each), listen to music that both of you liked, he’d tell you the same story of him and his brother getting trapped in a tree as a child (because he obviously hadn’t ever told you this tale before), some film he’d watched once and couldn’t remember playing as the backdrop, and at some point he’d start playing with your hair. Long and slender digits patting, running through and twirling the strands that fell around your face, you weren’t even sure if this was done subconsciously or not. Not that you really cared anyway. Fingertips gently grazing your shoulder in the glow of the tv, then your cheek, then your lips as his hand slipped under your chin and your mouths clash together in a wanton want for something constant. And then you’d have to excuse yourself to the bathroom to make sure you looked a presentable mess in your drunkenness.

Cheeks warmed with the wine trapped inside of you, maybe you’d had a little too much as your hand reached out to steady yourself on the counter as your other moved to brush a few strands of hair from your forehead. Fingers danced over your lips as the fiery feeling of his atop yours hadn’t quite left your system yet, you would laugh at yourself tomorrow for relishing in it but the you of now would soak up this limelight as this was the first time this semester this had happened. You had begun to wonder if it would again before his text tonight. Another look at your phone and it was nearing 1:30, a drowsiness in your system accompanied by the lull of the red had you stifling a yawn behind a hand raised to your mouth.

He’s in your bed by the time you exit the bathroom. Eyes shut and slow breathing as the woes of the world were only that of it spinning greatly on its axis. Conceptual in nature you never sought to feel anything more than just a friendship with him. Sure, it was a friendship that was deeply ingrained in fucking each other to take your mind off whatever was troubling you at the time, but a friendship, nonetheless. 

You stood in the glow of the streetlights bleeding in from the outside, a majority of his clothes had been strewn onto the floor, and yours were quick to follow. You were trying to get the damned hooks of your bra to unlatch when you heard him shift behind you.

“Allow me,” a smirk danced along his lips as he noticed you struggling with unlatching your bra. You relented as the palm of his hand landed on your lower back, sliding up leaving behind a trail of warmth. In a simple motion, he was able to unhook it with only one hand.

A short laugh as you shrugged off the garment, throwing it to the littered pile of clothes on the ground. You turned and found his lips, “Love that party trick of yours,” you murmured between kisses. With your right hand you gently pushed him backwards towards the bed. 

As the backs of his knees hit the mattress, he fell back, but not before reaching to grab your hands to bring you down with him. 

After a few more pecks with your chest flush against his, you sat up, straddling his lap as he chased your lips until he couldn't reach them anymore. Instead, his hands that were entwined with yours released their hold and traveled up your sides, finding anchor on your hips. It was then he began to gently guide your hips to move, you couldn’t  help the moan that fell from your lips or the way your hips instinctively rolled over his painfully hard cock.

“I can feel you through the fabric,” he sighed out breathing heavily, he glanced down to where your bodies almost met, the wetness of your core seeping through the layers of cloth. “Is that all for me?”

“Only for you,” you murmured, knowing it would spur him further. “Just touch me more.”

With a newfound sense of purpose, he did. His right hand raised, his thumb brushed over your breast, his index finger moved as well to play with your hardening nipple. You found yourself shifted to the flat of your back when you let out a moan and he moved himself to hover over you, looking down at his hand gliding over your skin, any feeling of shyness quickly left him. His lips met yours as his hand slid back down your side, the other being used to leverage himself over you. 

Something’s said, you’re not sure exactly what as it’s a mixture of words you do and do not understand. Jisoo’s lips lower, to your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts and down to your stomach. His hands find the sides of your hips, his own feet falling to the floor as he drags you to the side of the bed so that your knees and calves dangle over the edge. Fingers tangled through his dark and once coiffed locks as he lowered himself to your core, you couldn’t help but to try and quell your pounding heart. 

“Help me with this part?” He asked quietly, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear. You obliged willingly, raising your hips to let him slide off the cloth with ease. “Perfect,” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

His lips captured your bud and your back arched at the contact, his hands moved away from your breasts and down your sides to the insides of your thighs, gently pushing them apart. 

His fingers run along your slick, gathering it as he releases your clit with a small pop before he pushes his index finger inside of you. After a moment, the word, “Move,” left you more enthusiastically than you anticipated. Yet he met your request with fervor, pumping his digit into you while you curled your fingers in his hair, gently tugging at his locks.

“Fuck–!” voice breathy as it leaves you, another finger, his middle, added to your core causing you to relinquish your hold on him to find your hands tangling atop the duvet.  

“Do you feel good?” He questions almost teasingly, knowing the answer as you let out a string of words ebbing on profanity and proclamations of your feelings. 

“I think– you know the answer–!” You tried to joke before you cried out as he pistons his hand faster, you feel yourself on the precipice of release. It's when he reattached his lips to you clit did the band snap within you and you cried out, your limbs had begun to tremble when he continued his movements, riding out your orgasm until you lightly nudged him away with your knee and he pulled his fingers from you. 

“Come here,” you murmur as you sat up, holding your hands out to him as he rose from the edge of the bed to stand between your open legs. Your hands found the sides of his face and pulled him in for a kiss, the taste of you and him intermingling in your mouths. One of your hands slipped away from his face, traveling down his bare chest and towards the hem of his boxers.

“We don’t,” he stopped, lips parting from yours as he searched your eyes, his hand finding yours, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you nodded, head tilting slightly as if to gauge him, “do you not want to?”

“God, fuck,” he sighed under his breath as you caught your lower lip between your teeth, “Of course I do. Do you have a condom?”

“In the side drawer,” you said breathily as he stepped away, quickly fumbled in the dark for a moment before he procured the condom.

And with that he pressed his lips to yours once more and your back hit the mattress. Your teeth clicked together clumsily, but it was forgotten with a small laugh as your fingers traced the elastic of his waistband. He hovered over you, forearm holding up his upper body as he trapped yours within the confines of his knees, his free hand moved to help yours pull down his underwear.

The room was filled with tangible electricity, a palpable anticipation that hung heavy in the air as you both had shed the last remnants of clothing. Your skin tingled with anticipation, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

His lips found yours once more, urgent and hungry, as if trying to convey all the longing and desire that he’d been harboring towards that other girl for months. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

It’s then he pulled back, tearing open the condom’s wrapper and quickly rolling it onto himself. You watched his eager moments in amusement as you sat up, fascinated by how much he was willing to fuck. When he caught you looking, a deeper rooted desire overtook him and he came back to meet you at the side of your bed. Your hand went out to stroke him, but he caught your wrist, gently pushing it back onto the bed. 

“Mine,” His breath hot on your skin as he leaned in, pushing you back onto your back, hive raspy tone sent chills shooting from your head to your toes as he aligned himself with you. The breath had been pulled from your throat, when he pushed himself inside. “Please say you’re mine.”

A strangled sort of laugh escaped you, unknowing why he was acting in such a possessive manner. “Just for tonight.”

As your bodies melded together, skin against skin, you lost yourself in the sensation of him, in the overwhelming intensity of your connection. Each touch, each kiss, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building to a crescendo that threatened to consume you both.

When you looked at him, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his hair tousled from your hands running through it, your heart swelled with a feeling as if it were trying to crawl up your throat. The scent of pine and a shiver snaked itself up your spine. He removed his lips from the side of yours, looking down at you like a beholden idol, his hips snapped into you as he'd begun to chase his own high. 

There was desperation in his kiss, and you hoped it wasn’t stemming from where you believed it to be. Your eyes screwed shut in abject ecstasy as your peak toppled you off of a high cliff, and it didn’t seem like Jisoo was too far off behind you.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, pulling out of you. His fingers quickly moved around the condom and he pulled it off before wrapping his hand around himself. He stroked himself a few more times before you felt stripes of heat spurt onto your abdomen.

He stood for a moment, regaining his composure before he excused himself for a moment, returning from the bathroom with a damp washcloth and gently wiped it across your stomach to remove the essence of him. Jisoo then tossed the rag onto the floor and fell next to you on the mattress before wrapping his arm around you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck as your chest still heaved with the sighs and exhalations of pleasure. 

The shock that came oh so prevalently to your features when he uttered the cursed “I think I love you” instead of the usual transition into a deep slumber.

Try as you might to steal him away from his yearnings and into the beguiling sin that engrossed you like a funeral shroud you shook your head with a, “No you don’t,” as you raised his hand to your lips and placed a chaste kiss onto his knuckles. A laugh as you were drunk on the spirit and freed inhibitions accompanying the acidic red scouring your veins. “You’re in love with the possibility of something loving and fucking you back.” In truth you weren’t sure if that’s it but repeating it to yourself and vocalizing it sure sounded better than facing your own crippling anxiety of it all.

Tensing under you as the brush of your lips atop his skin left him more flushed than not, “I just confessed to you and you’re telling me that I don’t love you?”

“I am,” a nod of your head as you turned atop the mattress to face him, his breath hot against your face while a confused expression settled into his. “You are far too drunk to be saying things like that and I’m far too drunk to want to accept them,” you reached your hand to caress his cheek before you felt his reach up to gently grasp around your wrist to pull it away.

“Are you saying you’ll love me when you’re sober?” The sensation of rough stubble beginning to emerge from his face still lingering on your fingertips, you closed your hand to staunch the feeling.

Scoff from your lips piercing him like an arrow, “I’ll love you when you start loving yourself over that girl.” The orange slants of lights bleeding in through your blinds from the street below your apartment was the only thing that illuminated the two of you. His hand fell away from your wrist and your hand dropped down onto the small space of mattress that distanced your body from his. “You’re too stupidly handsome to not love yourself.”

Quizzical smile playing on his lips as you felt his eyes peering into yours. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m pretty sure ninety nine percent of the population thinks you’re handsome, Jisoo.” A roll of your eyes as you turned onto your back, looking up at your pale ceiling, orange glow still emanating from outside.

“What about the other one percent?” As you moved to place your hand atop your stomach he asked, also moving to look up at the ceiling with you.

He was only the narcissist you knew him to be when you were alone with him. Joshua may have loved his physical appearance but was always critiquing his personality, his interactions with others. “Oh, they actually do think you’re handsome, they just haven’t realized it yet.”

“Can we just stay like this?” Breaths intermingled with the cool air of your apartment as he moved to take your hand in his, warmth emanated from his palms and danced atop his fingertips. “I don’t really feel like-”

“Yeah, of course,” an impending sense of dread ran cold through your once warm veins, an involuntary shiver coursed through you causing him to pull you in closer as he thought that you were just cold. You weren’t, just knew of what’s to come tomorrow.  

He was gone by the time you woke up, morning light shining in as you had to hold a hand up to block it from permeating through your eyelids any longer. When your hand ran atop the cool mattress where he was supposed to be, a pang reverberated around your rib cage as you realized he must’ve been absent for some time. Normally after one of these nights the two of you would head to some diner that still sold breakfast around noon while you frantically typed away at an email telling your professor that you’d gotten food poisoning the night before and couldn’t make it to class. Now you were alone and void of the sense of urgency that skipping class tended to put on you.

As if he had impeccable timing, your phone buzzed on your nightstand, a notification detailing that you had several missed calls and unread texts. A sigh from your lips as you reached out to grab the device, swiping it unlocked and reading the last message he’d sent, “Blue @ 2?”

He’d already been seated when you walked into the dingy diner on the outskirts of your college town. Gaudy retro blue interior, a mockup of Elvis at the entrance and the small jukeboxes adorning each table just reminding you of all the times you’d sat in here, hungover and tired. Now you were hungover, tired and anxious. Jisoo was picking at a tray of fries as you slid into the booth, looking up to you as you sat, the vinyl squeaking as you moved atop it, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

There was a gritty, off sounding version of Israel Kamakawiwo'ole’s ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ coming from the little jukebox to your right and you wondered if Joshua had fished out the quarters from his mess of a wallet for it to be playing. He knew it was one of your favorites. “I’m working on my stealth, might just drop out of college and become an international spy at this rate,” You smiled as you shrugged off your jacket.

A nervous smile on his lips, you hadn’t seen that since your freshman year and the whole debacle with that girl had started. Something was on his mind and you knew it would never come out unless you prodded first. Smile on your face faltered as an impending feeling of dread began to surge through you, “What is it?”

“What?” Eyes widening as he shoved a fry in his mouth, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Why did you ask me to come out when I know you’ve got a history or business class right now?”

“A Comprehensive Study of Italian Literature throughout the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries.” Another fry eaten, he spoke with his mouth full, “It’s not really something I want to sit through every day. And I wanted to see you.”

“For?”

“Do I have to have a reason for wanting to?”

“You typically do.” A shrug of your shoulders as most of the reasons had been like the incident that spurred last night’s escapade, or to run over notes for an upcoming exam. And that one time where he’d asked you to look after a cat he’d been trying to smuggle into his no pets allowed apartment complex.

Silence as the cogs turn in his head, you can almost see them as he tries to vocalize his thoughts. “It’s about last night.” His hand rests atop the red basket that housed the last of the fries. He lets out a sigh, removing his hand and brushing it atop a nearby napkin, “I mean what I said.”

“Jisoo…” name faltered on your lips as you knew what was to come, “You know I’m not looking for that right now. And what about that girl? Isn’t that why you came over in the first place?” the dynamic shifting between the two of you with every word uttered out of this conversation. It was uncomfortable as you felt yourself pulling away when all he wanted to do is try to get closer to you. An anxiety running through you as your fingers clenched into fists atop your pant leg.

“That's why I came over. I realized I was looking for someone to replace you when all I ever needed was here.” His voice was quiet, calm and an air of shakiness interlaced through it.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I’m not really sure.” Humming as he took a glance out the window, gray clouds sweeping over the once verdant blue of the evening. “Are you really never going to give me a chance?” He still wasn’t looking at you, you weren't sure if he was able to.

It’s blurry now, the rest of that afternoon. It had begun to rain while the two of you sat in that diner, precipitation pelting the sides of the restaurant as you both made a haste escape to your apartment. Clothes littered on the floor as you somehow make your way into your bedroom, kisses both chaste and longing grazing your skin as your hands run through his now messy locks.

You hated how tender Jisoo was, how bittersweet his lips felt on yours as his hands caressed your sides as he pressed himself on top of you. Hated how he melted under you and careened for your touch even if you’d only lifted your hand from his seconds prior. There was a want inside of him that you could feel rearing to break free, but he was holding himself back, he always held himself back. He craved an affection you were unwilling to give, too reluctant to lose yourself to the possibility of him.

This wasn’t a goodbye; it was a plead for you to stay. With your sheets wrapped around you and strayaways of your hair clinging to the sides of your face you tell him to leave, you’re tired and need to get some sleep at some point because you've already missed too many classes. It pained and tormented you to push him away, he was a good friend, a good lover but you never once had the thought that he could hold that guarded place in your heart that had been untouched by anyone. You were afraid that you loved him back.

You hadn’t said a word to him since that afternoon. Nothing from him ever came to you either, the ties had been cut at that meeting and no trying to forage the relationship anew ever came. The two of you grew apart and became separate people, you never looked after him and you had no idea if he looked after you. There was some comfort you gave yourself in never seeking him out, you didn’t have to own up to the fact he existed anymore and that the assholishness of your years prior could remain a secret. But now faced with that undeniable presence of him back in your life you feel as if the pillars holding you aloft are beginning to crumble.

“With the earth is in aphelion we tend to lose ourselves, finding that even though it may be summer and memories of an us no longer presents itself, we question the now and want to return to the past. It’s a captivating notion, isn’t it? Take this time to reflect on yourself and the choices you’ve made to understand who you are now and who you were then.”

Roll of your eyes as the host begins to finish up her spiel of moving forward as it feels all too relating to your current situation. Hand moving to pause the podcast as you hear a gentle knock on your door. You’d finally gotten the back of your dress zippered up on your own after what felt like an eternity of it not budging those last few centimeters. “Come in,” you call out and Sooyoung opens the door right away.

“Are you almost ready?” She asks, looking stunning as ever in a simple sparkly nude dress, the v of the neck gives only little to imagine but she pulls it off with more grace than anyone else you could picture. “Mingyu’s getting the car ready so we should all head out soon.”

“Yeah,” you nod, glancing to the small standing mirror atop the wooden dresser. It wasn’t optimal lighting to pretty yourself up in but you’d dealt with worse.

“What’s aphelion?” She asks as she reaches for the door handle, eyes looking to the now black screen of your phone. “The lady on your podcast was talking about it.”

“It’s the furthest point away the earth is from the sun. We’re actually in it right now.” Musing as you move to toss your phone onto the bed, beside your purse that you’ll be using that night.

“Isn’t it summer though? If we’re at the furthest point, shouldn’t it be winter?”

A shrug of your shoulders as she opens the door, realizing your answer could probably be better recurved via a google search. “I couldn’t tell you,”  muttering as you lean over to collect the pair of shoes strewn at your feet.

Sooyoung leaves as you begin to slide your heel into your shoe, once put on you stand for a moment on wobbly legs as you hate the way these events make you dress up for things. You feel like a newborn foal as you tiptoe your way to your purse and then to the door. Cracked open it lets a sliver of light in, then a shadow passing over it as someone walks by. “Sooyoung, did you-” thinking it was your friend returning to her room for something you open the door and look down the hall, only to find the widened eyes of Hong Joshua looking back. The two of you stare at each other, vocalizing internally a conversation that had yet to occur or maybe that had in your dreams. “I thought you were-,” a shake of your head as you wave it off. “I’m going now.”

“After you,” a hand motioning to the stairwell as you brush past him, palpitations thrumming so loudly inside your chest you’re surprised he can’t hear them.

When you get to the car you see that Sooyoung’s already in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone as Mingyu messes with the radio of the car in a feeble attempt to get it working again. You slide into the backseat, your stomach dropping when the other backseat door opens and Jisoo gets in beside you. Never in your life had you wanted to be in a bigger car than you were in now.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the welcome party, Mingyu and Sooyoung made casual small talk whereas the back two seats lay dead silent as you try to cave in on yourself. Jisoo is everything you remember and everything you curse, the scent of his favored Jo Malone cologne soaking into you as you sit in the backseat has you reeling. You don’t even know they made the Amber and Lavender scent anymore. Nor were you aware that he could dress this nicely, he’d only followed the preppy boy trend back in college and at his best you think you could recall him wearing some Ralph Lauren polo to an outdoor event. That was the Jisoo you’d known. Not the dolled-up enigma that sits next to you, his knee lightly knocking into yours as the car moves over the bumpy streets.

You’re not sure which deity to thank as the Hotel Diane is only a twenty-minute venture from the house. Before anyone has the ability to assist you getting out of the car as you roll up to the entrance of the venue, you unbuckle your seatbelt and make a speedy retreat into the bowels of the conference. You can hear Sooyoung calling out after you as you race into the plethora of archeologists, researchers and everything in between. A sigh of relief as you find the restroom, locking yourself into one of the stalls as you try and sate your rapidly beating heart.

It was supposed to have stopped a long time ago, the regret and anguish over him. Yet the flame ignited once more when his eyes had met yours yesterday evening. You barely slept that night and you were plagued by memories the entirety of today. Hong Jisoo is a plague that you don’t want to give up. Or maybe the memory of him is, you know nothing of what became of him after the triste in college had ended and you had gone your separate ways.

“You look like shit,” Sooyoung’s voice hitting you almost as soon as you exit the bathroom, “Not your makeup or anything, that’s fine.” A hand raised as if sensing your aura or to generalize the vibe you were giving off, “Your expression though. What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You blink, trying to mask the anxiety riddled through you with a confused façade. “Nothing, I just really had to use the restroom.”

“And it had nothing to do with the handsome man sitting in the backseat with you?” She poses as the two of you begin to walk through the atrium, sliding past other partygoers. As you near a catering staff member holding a tray of drinks, Sooyoung reaches out and plucks one off of the tray and hands it to you before getting one for herself, “You’ve been acting weird since last night.”

A sigh as you bring the glass to your lips, drinking as you stride forward into the main gala, a large room adjacent to the main atrium. “Seeing him just reminded me of school, is all,” It isn’t a complete lie, just not the wholehearted truth either.

It seems as if everyone’s begun to be ushered into the main hall, the lights of the stage in the back of the room brightening as an older man walks up, a handful of notecards in his grasp. Doors shut behind the last of the stragglers, the gravelly voice of the man begins to welcome everyone to the annual conference and how it was such a treat to hold it in a historic place. The lights of the room dimming to draw attention towards the stage, you find yourself lost in drink as he speaks, eyes wandering the crowds as you catch Joshua looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put a name to. It only made you drink more, swapping out your now empty glass with a new one from a server’s tray nearby.

The speech drags on for another five minutes or so, detailing the events of the weekend. The words tuned out as you feel the burn of alcohol down your esophagus. When the speech is done and the lights brought up, you and Sooyoung make a round around the room, chatting with several acquaintances from conferences and events prior and greeting any new faces you come across.  

“How’s your new exhibition in London going?” A voice asks as you turn to your left, “I hope everything got there safely?”

Turning to now greet a familiar face, “Of course it did, Seungcheol. No thanks to you, of course.” Mischievous smile flashing as Sooyoung leaves your side to wander over to a group of Mingyu’s cohorts. “I’m surprised you lent us your exhibit on such short notice, it’s only been up for a few days but luckily enough I was there to see the inaugural showcase. It’s absolutely phenomenal, by the way.”

Smile now coating his features, “I’m glad it worked out. And anything for an old friend.” He takes a sip out of the glass in his hand, glancing around the room for a moment as if to observe the atmosphere. “It seems busier than usual, doesn’t it? I hear it’s largely in part due to the handful of new teams they’ve set up in the area.”

“Well, typically these are held in stuffy new cities, can’t blame the attendance for being higher here.” You note as you look over the faces of the other patrons. “St. Louis wasn’t all that exciting, was it?”

“Learning about Cahokia was, though.” He notes with a raised brow and turns his attention back to you. “I saw you come in with Mingyu, do you know him?”

“We interned at the Smithsonian and went to grad school together; do you know him?”

“I met him the other day when a few of us early birds were able to get a behind the scenes tour of sector V. I actually know his teammate Joshua, I saw you come in before them so I’m assuming you know him as well?” Seungcheol questions as he scans the crowd for the sight of the taller looming above everyone else.

“Only a little bit,” You lie as the varnish of perceived reality begins to chip away, bit by bit, “I’d say I’m better acquainted with Mingyu really.”

“Ah, that’s a shame. He’s a bright kid, if you ever get to know him, was a great help when our junior archivist was out of town for a while…” You hope he can’t see the painted smile on your face as he speaks again, “Have you met any of their teammates? It really is an eclectic bunch.”

“I haven’t actually, I think Sooyoung’s talking with them now.” Peering back to see Sooyoung laughing at something Mingyu was saying, “I should probably introduce myself.”

“I’ll leave you to it then, I’ve got an archivist and an architect to track down somewhere around here. It was nice seeing you again,” He gives you a short nod before heading off into the masses.

“There’s the woman of the hour,” Sooyoung’s hand that isn’t occupied with a wine glass slips around your waist as you approach the group. “I was just telling them how you managed to snag the Gohyang exhibit, not that they really care. They’re all archaeology nuts.”

“I take it I don’t need to introduce myself then?” Shooting Sooyoung a short glare before looking to the handful of people surrounding you, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Nice to meet you too,” A voice speaks up and a hand raises to meet yours as Sooyoung’s grip around your waist is lost. “I’m Minghao, the site supervisor, kind of in charge of these guys.”

Another voice beside him, “Don’t let him act all high and mighty about it, it’s just because our real team leader broke his wrist skiing and is on leave for the next two weeks.” Different hand to shake, “I’m Seulgi. I work in forensics.”

“And you already know Mingyu and Joshua, they’re pretty much our main diggers,” Minghao notes and looks to Mingyu, “Where is he by the way? Didn’t you two come together?”

Humming as Mingyu’s eyes scan the crowd, “I’m not sure, he might’ve ducked out to get some fresh air. You know how he gets.” Unable to find him, his attention returns to the group, glancing over at you, “Was he always this weird at events?”

“Do you know him?” Seulgi's voice interrupts before you’re able to speak, pulling your attention away from your friend and to her.

“I-”

Once again interrupted, this time by Sooyoung. “She actually went to school with him. Small world, isn’t it?”

“Not so much in this field,” Minghao muses, something wistful in his tone, “We all come across each other at some point.”

“You’re still not going to get over that Russian tomb raider, are you?” Seulgi sighs, attention focusing back to you. “But was he? He’s always happy at the dig site but whenever we come to these sorts of events, he gets all quiet and taciturn. It’s like he’s looking for someone who’s never really going to show up.”

“That’s uh- Oddly specific.” Uttering under your breath, uncomfortable at the turn of events and barrage of questions being thrown at you. “And I really didn’t know him that well.”

“Ah come on,” Sooyoung’s voice slurs ever so slightly as you take a sip of your drink. “I can hardly believe you went to a small school in the middle of BFE, go on a study abroad trip with him and didn’t talk to him.”

Pressure building as if you’re a kettle with nowhere to expunge the steam rapidly rising inside of you. You’re a trapped animal, cornered in a room of vicious predators.

A nervous, shaky laugh escapes you, and before you can stop yourself, the words start tumbling out. “I mean we were classmates and we knew each other- We were kind of friends and more, but it wasn’t supposed to be serious, you know? I needed to focus on my studies, on my career. I wasn’t ready for anything more, and I told him that, but he just… he wanted more. But it didn’t make sense because he was in love with someone else, always talking about her like she was the one, and I felt like… like he was just using me to fill some void or get over her or something. And I knew it wasn’t right, but I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did, and now—”

Your voice cracks, the guilt and confusion spilling over as you realize how loud and rambling you’ve become thanks to the alcohol that not only lessened your anxiety but loosened your tongue. The group falls into an uncomfortable silence, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. You can feel the burn of a gaze on the back of your neck, and when you turn, there he is—Jisoo, staring at you, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and something else you can’t quite place.

Smile instantly dropping into a grimace, a mumbling of “Oh shit,” as he brushes past you without so much as a glance, wine stem threatening to break under the stress you now exude from your fingers. A pit dropping in your stomach as the reality of your words and the carelessness of your actions only sought to further dredge you from the comfort of your mind and into the abysmal present.

"I'm so sorry," you apologize with wide eyes to the group. A guilty being inside of you chases after him, the clacking of your shoes atop the marble floor echoing around the space yet muffled by the number of people that you’d outright embarrassed him in front of. Not that they’d all heard, only the ones that matter to him. You set the wine glass in your hand atop a small table before you exit, only after downing the last of the liquid that remained, hoping the warmth of your cheeks is more so from the wine than your mortification. You need liquid courage, yet if you consume any more, you’re unsure what other vile secrets may come tumbling from your lips.

Jisoo’s standing in the atrium of the building when you find him, tie loosened from his neck as if it had sought to choke out every last word from his mouth. You approach with a slowing velocity, unsure how to reintroduce yourself after the disaster of an evening. Another calamity incurred by a slip of the tongue and careless action by you, unlike your past self now this blinding awareness overtook you and a tremendous amount of guilt found itself weighing you down.

“I’m not good with words, I never have been.” A hand had run through his hair as he looked far too more shaken now than he had in the moments prior. Footsteps atop tile as he paces the space, a statue of some Roman deity or emperor looking down upon the two of you as if it meant to judge your sins. “I’ve tried so goddamned hard to forget about this and you just think it’s okay to waltz right back into my life and make it all some sort of fantastical joke?” You feel as if you were a child being scolded by a parent rather than whatever you would define your relationship with Joshua now. If there even was one to define. Eyes trailing the floor as the sternness in his voice was reason enough for you to never want to make eye contact with him again, your blood was hot, and you were warm with repentance. “You broke my heart, what makes you think that you have the right to come back?”

“If you want me to say I’m an asshole I can, the largest of assholes who was too stupid and vain to think of anyone but myself. That was a total lie back there I don’t even know why I said it.” You feel slovenly with the way the words fight their way out of you as you apologize for the immoralities of a time long past, “Jisoo,” he winces at the name, your sure no one’s called him that in some time, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sorry for much more than the scene you’d just caused.

“Did you really never care about me?” The pain in his voice renders you from the present and into the past where he’d found you hidden away in some closet at a fraternity party. Your arms slung around the neck of someone you’d only met a handful of times before then, focus breaking when the door opens, and streams of blinking led lights from the party outside flooded into the dark space. It had taken you a moment to recognize the large silhouette in the doorway, shadow casting onto the two of you locked into a crude embrace. Blinking you return to the hardened stare he gives you now, reminiscent of that you saw in his eyes that day. “You fucked my friend and didn’t think anything of it.”

“We hadn’t spoken in months! I wasn’t obligated to pine over you when we’d practically become strangers.” Yet you had. This hallowed feeling had plagued you for months following that night, you’d remembered it the morning after and had an apology text written that you never found the courage to send. It sat on your phone screen for longer than you would have liked it to, but that’s what it did, sat and collected virtual dust while you found solace in finding use in other men to take your mind off of him.  

Eyes finding comfort in the statue above, you wait for the words trapped inside of his chest like a caged beast to be wrought upon you as he had probably wished to do since the last you’d seen him. They never come. No floods or wrath or hellfire fury wrung out for you to find. Just silence as the gentle chatter from the ballroom down the hall faintly ambling as the backdrop to your tragedy.

“If I had known it was you, I wouldn’t have come.” Spare him from this detriment of character. Scared. You were scared and that’s why you’d not spoken to him since that rainy afternoon. He’d said something before he left but you were too busy trying to keep yourself together to remember what he’d uttered. In his absence you’d try to remember, but it all proved fruitless and you perhaps had lost one of your truest friends that day. “Didn’t Mingyu tell you we were coming?”

Hands in his pockets, gaze racked onto something painted onto the domed ceiling of the atrium. “He did.” Breaking your gaze from the statue you look to him, quizzical brow already set atop your features.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Voice quiet, you feel the alcohol tunneling your vision and pulsing through your fingertips.

“To see if you’ve changed, to see if you’re still vehemently against my happiness.” Eyes turned to you as a frown adorns his lips. You’d never felt such seriousness come from him, it made you feel even more a cornered animal than you’d been in the ballroom. “It’s obvious that you are though, I should’ve expected as much.”

“Vehemently against your-? What the hell are you talking about Jisoo?”

“You never wanted me to be happy!” Hands flying out of his pockets as they move to gesticulate a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend. “Every time I tried to move towards you, you always pushed me away. I tried to accept and understand that, but you let me into your arms on more occasions than I can count on my two hands. If you really didn’t want me then why did you continue to let me in like that?”

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor! I was taking your mind off of that girl! You never wanted me, or I was too stupid to see that you actually did because you talked about her all of the fucking time!” Voice raising as you continued, a fire boiling in your blood that you hadn’t realized had been only simmering for the past eternity. “It took too long for me to realize that I loved you back.” You were in love with him. You are in love with him and now you’ve gone and ruined any chance you had at reconciliation again. It’s as if some Austenian novel was taking place yet it was far too real and far too raw for it to be anything as romantic or gothic as such.

“Loved me back,” a bark from the back of his throat, a laugh of incredulity as the damnation in his gaze is ever so present, he didn’t believe you and he had every right not to. “You know, I thought about what I would say to you if I saw you again,” Leaning back so his weight now lay on the base of the statue, “I wrote out countless scenarios, questioning why you never reached out. Why I never tried to either. I was so, so angry at you and now I’m just tired.” Frown as he looks to the floor, the fire once bright behind his eyes simmering into a broken flame, “I can’t be too upset; I was as much an ass as you back then for not wanting to respect your wishes. But if I had loved you any less, I might just hate you now.”

A moment’s pause to reiterate what he’d said in your mind, the alcohol running rampant you take a few deep breaths in hope you’d heard what he admitted correctly. ‘Loved you any less,’ sounded like he certainly didn’t despise the essence of your being but with the way he’d acted prior to tonight made it seem as if you were a ghost to him. “Are you saying you don’t hate me?”

“I’m saying I’m old enough to realize that we both had our faults.” Gaze still trailing the veins of marble in the floor, “I used you as an emotional coping mechanism for the longest time before actually realizing I liked you. I didn’t even talk to her that last night, I just wanted to come over to be with you. But you,” Lower lip bitten as he nods his head, “I was never able to figure you out.”

Humbling as this whole situation is you’re finding it harder to stay upright, you move to stand next to him and motion to the bit of statue base beside him. He nods and scoots over enough to allow you enough space to lean alongside him. Warmth from where he once was lingering on your back, you let a sigh loose from your lips, “I was too selfish, I said I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but I was just scared.” Foot tapping against the floor as the gentle reverberations echo around the room, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I didn’t even sleep with your friend, I left soon after you did.”

Mouth parted to say something more, it never happens as the door to the main hall opens and Mingyu emerges, quickly moving to the two of you. “Would you mind if we head back a little early? Sooyoung’s a little, no, super drunk and I don’t want her to say anything embarrassing. Well, anything more embarrassing.”

Knowing how your friend got seemed to momentarily distract and sober you, a look to Joshua and then to Mingyu you nod your head, “I don’t mind.”

“I don’t either,” Jisoo agrees and then opens his palm for Mingyu to throw him the car keys, “You get her and I’ll pull the car around.”

Gentle breathing as the warmth of another lying next to you in bed rouses you from slumber. Light peeking in from the window overhead as you shift, the fragrance of a rose scented shampoo greeting you. “Sooyoung,” a grumbling from your lips as you hadn’t realized that she’d snuck into your bed during the night, she was a clingy, cuddly drunk that you were normally never one to accommodate. But last night had been different, you barely remember the ride home as you’d been in and out of slumber. Joshua had driven while you took the passenger seat, Sooyoung’s head atop Mingyu’s lap as she gently snored away, finding sleep a much better accompaniment than drunkenness in a moving car.

“Five more minutes,” a murmur from her as she pulls the blankets closer to her chest, “I think I’m still drunk.”  

“Want to trade,” a hand moving to your forehead as you sit up, waves of nausea rolling like an unbearable tide through your system. “I need a Powerade and a nap. Do they have Powerade here?”

“Pedialyte maybe,” Sooyoung says, sounding more awake as the covers fall away as she sits up. She ponders for a moment, sleep in her eyes as she stares down at the white duvet. A yawn escaping her as she turns to you, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Hand running through your knotted locks, looking over to your similarly disgruntled friend.

“Oh, you know, the stock market.” Retort scoffing from her, “I’m talking about whatever the fuck happened last night between you and Joshua.”

Maybe you’d thought it all a dream, the argument and your drunken folly. Yet presented to you again you couldn’t help but acknowledge it, “I said something stupid and I apologized to him.” More than that you’d unthinkingly confessed you liked him eons too late, but you could blame that on your inebriation, although you’re not sure what he’d say. You’re not sure you saw him have a sip of anything at all last night.

“Seemed like a little more than that,” Shoulders shrugging as she moves to slide out of your bed and walk over to the small vanity. “When he was carrying you inside you were all over him, apologizing about something.”

“I what?” Eyebrows raising as you feel the familiar flush of embarrassment creep along your spine. “You must’ve been seeing things there’s no way in hell he’d do that.”

“-Even made sure to bring you some water,” you hadn’t realized she’d been continuing. “I can’t really remember much else though.” The sound of acute popping as she stretches her arms, “I’m going back to bed, wake me up if anything important happens, okay?”

A shake of your head as you usher her out to leave, an icy feeling running from your head to your toes as you think you’d rather stay in this room the entirety of your stay than face whatever was beyond the door. When you do get that confidence to venture out, as you didn’t hear anyone trapezing about the house, you try and quietly amble down the stairs as to not wake your slumbering friend a few doors down. Pounding in your head you make way to the kitchen to rummage around for an aspirin or five to rid yourself of the aftermath of indulgence. Quiet, “Shit,” escaping you as there’s nothing to be found, only water and tea. So, when Jisoo finds you sitting alone at the kitchen table, water glass in hand as your head is pressed gently to the rough wooden surface, he can surmise you’re probably not feeling your best. You hadn’t even heard the front door open, nor had you guessed he’d be dressed up in business attire once again. Another jarring thing to add to your morning.

“I figured you wouldn’t be feeling great,” His voice soft as if not to disrupt the cosmos, “I brought you and Sooyoung some espresso. It won’t cure your hangover, but it’ll wake you up.” The sound of a cup hitting the tabletop and you look up to see it sitting in front of you. The shift in his attitude over the course of the last two days all too paradoxical and overwhelming for you to think of right now. Your hand reaching forward to grasp the paper cup in your hands and slowly bring it to your face.

A sip taken and you sit up, “Thank you.” Finger running over the small hole atop the lid, “Sooyoung’s still asleep. I’m not sure when she’ll be up again.” Jisoo responds with a slight nod of his head, not furthering the conversation as it seems he’s lost in thought. “Where’s Mingyu?”

“At the conference,” It takes him a moment to respond, “I ducked out early to make sure you both were doing okay. He also wanted to know if the both of you wanted to check out the ruins today. It’s going to be crowded but we can sneak our way through without too much hassle.”

“I think we’d both be up for it after a little more sleep if that’s alright?” The scent of the espresso finally hitting you, it was good but didn’t sate the anxious butterflies floating around your stomach.

“That’s fine, you can go and get some sleep, Mingyu’s not supposed to be back for another couple of hours.”

“It’s quite sad, isn’t it?” Walking through the ancient and weathered streets of Pompeii felt more as if you were walking through a graveyard rather than a place frozen in time. In a way it is a graveyard, yet most came to ogle at the plastered bodies of the deceased than appreciate the ability to see how the people once lived and thrived. You stand now, with Mingyu and Sooyoung, Jisoo standing some feet back as you gaze at one of the faded frescoes from antiquity.

“Sad, yes. Tragic? Absolutely.” Mingyu says as he takes a few steps further into the atrium of the household, towards the small, empty impluvium that sat in its center. “But in a way it’s kind of happy too, don’t you think? It’s a city lost in time but we’re slowly uncovering the past and its people.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got a room like this in the MoMA,” Sooyoung says, looking down to the little guidebook in her hand.

“That’s actually from a villa outside of the city,” Mingyu interjects, “It’s preserved beautifully.” They share a look and you turn away, not wanting to impede on their moment.

Instead, your attention turns to Jisoo, who’s walking through the doorway and out into the street, lip bitten you contemplate following after him since you hadn’t really spoken to him since that morning and a plethora of questions are running around your head. You excuse yourself from the other two, not that they would’ve noticed as it seems they were in deep conversation, and head out into the increasingly overcast afternoon. “I don’t want to sound weird but what exactly did I say to you when we came back here last night?” Voice calling out to Jisoo as he reads something carved into a slate of marble beside the house. Standing atop the steppingstones that dotted the antique streets so that you could get a better look at him. “I can’t really remember and it’s been eating me alive all day.”

Hum from his lips as he glances to the cloudy sky and then to you, “You did say something about being ‘the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass,’ was that Shakespeare?” There’s a slight smile to his lips and you feel your stomach doing cartwheels. “You said it at least ten times.” He strides over, not needing to take many steps since his gait is that of a giraffe’s.

“Austen, actually.” Words coming out in almost a whisper as the two of you stand in silence. Birds cawing overhead and the buzz of nearby tourists as you don’t know what to say next.

“For someone who was never a romantic, you sure as hell indulge in romantic things,” casual musing and he moves his hands into his pockets. The air smelled of sun-dried dirt and salt envelops you, even with the clouds above the harshness of the sun felt ever so present on your back.

“I’m sorry,” words escaping you, “I-”

“You’ve already apologized more in a weekend than I could’ve hoped for in my entire life,” A shake of his head as he raises a hand to stop you. Tongue swiping his lower lip, “You know, I thought I was supposed to be angry when I saw you again, but when I saw you standing in the house after all this time, I was more happy than not?” Laugh escaping him, “Maybe I’m crazy.”

“I was too,” in a strange way you had been. The anxiety had been there, of course, yet there was an undeniable elation at seeing him. Flicker of a smile coming over you, “Maybe we’re both crazy.”

“Mingyu’s said you’ve climbed up in your career pretty fast,” A nod of his head, “I’d love for you to tell me more about it if you’ve got time to grab dinner while you’re here?”

“It’s not like we’re housemates for the week or anything,” You smile, “I’d really like that.”

When he takes your hand and doesn’t let it go after you’ve exited his car, that’s when you start to think, finally, his resentment towards you had begun to fade. When he holds the door open and pulls your chair out for you at the restaurant, is when your heart starts thrumming. When he pays the tab but you go out for an hour or two longer talking, reminiscing, and catching up is when you feel like you can look at him without any semblance of regret or shame. When his hand lingers atop yours while he tells you a story about an extravagant find in Site V is when you can’t wipe the smile from your lips and the euphoria from your chest.

“So, other than becoming a wildly prolific curator, what else have you been up to?” Hand moving away from yours as he leans back in the small wooden chair. The dim lights of the restaurant casting soft shadows across his features.

“I play tennis on the weekends, I’ve also got a cat back home but she’s kind of an asshole,” you laugh, returning your hand to your lap. “But what about you? I always thought you’d go into curation, never saw you as the archeologist type.”

“To be honest I thought it’d be like Indiana Jones, but I think the movies overexaggerated his job a little bit,” the joke playing gaily in his eyes as he shoots you a small smile. “But I might look into a museum job when I get older, it’s just too much fun being out in the field right now. I didn’t enjoy archiving as much as this.”

“I get that,” agreeing as you reach for your water, taking a sip before placing it back onto the table. “So, did you and that girl ever work out?”

“That girl,” Joshua pauses, “You know she has a name, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever called her by it.” Lips pursed as your finger plays with the condensation on the glass.

“What did you call her? An anglophile or something?”

“She always had that stupid union jack jacket on, it was like she was trying to be a wannabe Beatle,” it wasn’t a bad jacket. You realize now that it had probably been jealousy that coined the title.

A short laugh, “I remember that. But no, we never ended up together. I’m really only dating one person right now.”

Brow furrowing, had you gotten this whole night misconstrued? “Oh really? Who is it?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. We kind of found him halfway under a rock a few years back and have been trying to piece him and his story together ever since.” Eyes widening as he tells you the tale, “He’s at least nineteen hundred years old so I don’t think it’ll work out between us though.”

“You’re an asshole,” scoffing as you roll your eyes at him. In all honesty you were a little relieved he’d only been joking.

The two of you slowly begin to realize the lateness of the hour, the moon hanging high as you exit the bar with warm faces and hints of smiles lingering on your lips. There is a coolness in the air that hadn’t been present when you’d entered, it wasn’t cool enough to make you shiver but it feels pleasant as it runs over your skin. The drive home is filled with aimless chatter, it just feels comfortable to be back on good terms with him and feel his presence once more in your life.

Not too long after you arrive to the house, you find your friends absent. Checking your phone, you see they’ve gone off to watch a film and wouldn’t be back for another hour or two. You sit on the plush, green velveteen sofa of the living room as Jisoo saunters in with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. “I’m shocked at the amount of wine everywhere, I feel like if I stuck a spigot into the ground it’d be wine that comes out instead of water.”

“The Italians love their aperitifs and their wine,” Jisoo says as he pours out two glasses and hands you one. The TV turned onto a channel playing a movie you know but dubbed in Italian, you watch for a moment before feeling the brush of a hand atop your shoulder. Turning to look, you see Joshua’s head tilted to the side as his fingers dance along your shoulder.

“Can you tell me if I’m being too presumptuous?” A nod of your head as his fingers begin to absentmindedly play with a few strands of your hair, “But I don’t think my feelings about you changed all too much since I told you I loved you. And I understand if you don’t want to accept me again because it’s been too long, and we’ve grown apart but-”

Jisoo’s ramblings are cut short when you lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. It isn't your first kiss with him, nor was it his with youu. Although it was your first kiss with him that you wholly put intention behind as you’d never allowed it before because it had called for an intensified intimacy, you’d been scared to assign yourself to such a concept. Yet now you feel as if you were ready, “I love you too.”

Pulling your face away from him, the stars of disbelief shine in his eyes as the glow of the TV lights illuminate the smile on his lips. He looks relieved, sated and gleeful, a cornucopia of feelings that were unobtainable so long ago. Without another word you settle into each other, your head upon his chest as his hands run absentmindedly through your hair, the staticky nature of the television and sounds of a summer night outside lulling you both to sleep. It’s difficult to explain the situation to your friends that walk in an hour and a half later, startling the two of you awake as they come upon you. Their hands interlocked with each other, you shoot Mingyu a look to which he avoids, Sooyoung only winks and looks down to your hand which you find covered by Jisoo’s. It’s a silent act of solidarity, just a casual acceptance of what time had spurned as the night trudges onwards and you return to his side as the other two make their way upstairs.

[reidmania]

wicked | spencer reid

summary; you and spencer go to see the wicked musical together

warnings; obviously not realistically time based, use ur imaginations!! fem reader, pure fluff i dont think theres any warnings tbh

an; yes this is the fic i started writing like a month ago after i saw wicked and there was a guy there that looked like spencer reid. it has just taken a really long time. i miss knock off spencer reid, he was so sexy, come back.

The bustling crowd was almost overwhelming, groups of people gathered around taking photos with the large signs at the entrance, others leant against walls conversing with one another, and a large group of people trying to get through the doors through the crowd.

Meanwhile, You were standing hand in hand with Spencer as you waited for the majority of people to find their way’s in before you even attempted manoeuvring your way around the flock of people. Your eyes danced over the girls who came dressed up in character, admiring their unwavering confidence as they laughed as posed with the sign.

“Should’ve wore green” Spencer mumbled in your ear as he leant down slightly, in order to ensure you heard him over the crowd of people. Really it wasn’t that loud — it was just a lot and you wouldn’t have been surprised if you had missed something he said prior because of your focus being drawn away.

A soft laugh left your lips as you turned your head to face him. The city lights danced over the side of his face as he looked down at you, a content grin on his face. His suit jacket laid on top of his vest, his tie tucked underneath.

Your free hand lifted towards his tie to gentle recenter it, “Your tie matches” You mumbled. He had wore a dark green tie and you had a dark green thin bow tied in the back of your hair. It was your subtle way of showing your support and contribution to the main colour of the musical.

He hummed, “Should’ve just committed completely” He expressed, tilting his head to the side as your hand fell away from his tie. Your eyes rolled playfully — He had mentioned a few times since the two of you got the tickets for the musical that you should go dressed up at the main characters, to which you entertained the idea for all of two minutes before laughing and shaking it off.

Neither of you really wanted the attention of the public like that.

“Should’ve” You said, sighing out dramatically even though you both knew you were just playing along with the idea. You had seen the musical before, while it was Spencer’s first time.

When he continued suggesting how you two should go as Glinda the good witch, and fiyero because they were together (Which he only knew because you had briefly summarised the plot when asking him to come see it with you) You had to just laugh and hold back spoiling the fact that it really didn’t work out for them.

Spencer just smiled as he leant down to place a soft kiss on the top of your head, the crowd was dwindling out now, the two of you taking it as your opportunity to get through the doors and into the theatre. His hand stayed tightly wrapped around yours as you got your tickets scanned and entered.

Your eyes danced over the beauty of the inside, the large staircases and the warm lighting along with the historical indenting in the walls and ceilings around the large chandelier. Spencer was already moving towards the staircases quickly.

You followed — without much of a choice since your hands were interlaced tightly and you were basically being dragged anyways. His hands danced over the tickets the minute you two walked through the correct doors for the dress circle.

He placed another gentle kiss on the top of your head as he scanned for where your seats were. You squeezed his hand softly as he began walking towards them the minute his eyes laid on where your seats were. If anything you’d think he was more excited than you were.

“It gets pretty loud” You said softly once the two of you found your seats, you shuffled comfortably in the seat next to him as your eyes danced over the stage set up, you turned your head to Spencer with a soft smile on your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, appreciative of your warning, his head turned to look at you, his eyes dancing over your face. You remembered when you last saw it, despite it being an amazing experience you left with a slight headache because of how loud it got.

You nodded, squeezing his hand that was still holding yours once more, leaning back in your chair as you got comfortable. Your eyes turned to admire the set again before turning your head back to Spencer.

“Im excited” You said, a wide smile on your face that was instantly reciprocated by the man staring down at you, his eyes full of love and admiration as they studied your every feature.

“Yeah? Me too.” He said honestly, leaning his head down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. You smiled as you let your body relax, relishing in the softness of his touch.

The lights dimmed and the stage lit moments later, your hand stayed interlocked with Spencer throughout, your finger tapping against the back of his hand in beat of the songs that played, which would make him smile and squeeze your hand softly.

You couldn’t help the way every time you found something funny you would turn to look at Spencer to see if he was smiling or laughing like you were. He muttered his small opinions of different scenes in your ear every now and then, making a comment on how they were factually inaccurate to which you would just give him a knowing look — which would make him smile and shake his head, returning his gaze to the set.

When popular began playing, you leant in closer to Spencer, whispering the lyrics softly while moving your head. His gaze was torn from the set anytime you got closer, he watched you with an amused grin and a soft raise of his eyebrow.

When it got to the intermission, you were unworldly glad. After spending the last— nearly two hours sitting in the same position your body ached to just move around.

“Are you liking it?” You ask when the lights came back up. People around you began moving to go to the bathroom — get new drinks, or just go for a walk. Some stayed where they were in their seats but you were already moving to stand.

Spencer followed, standing up after you, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your hips as he lead you in front of him, towards the end of the seats. “Yeah, I am. Are you? Is it as good as you remember?” He asks softly, when the two of you finally get to the end, walking up the stairs before down the next ones, leaving the dress circle.

“Yes, Better even. It’s funnier” You mumble out softly as your body felt relieved from the movement in your legs.

He smiled, looking around at the long lines for people waiting to go to the bathroom. You were both glad that neither of you needed to go. Instead, you leant against the wall, Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist, head leant down to nuzzle into your neck as your arms wrapped around his.

You stayed like that for a while, just relishing in the comfort of one another. It was like the chaos surrounding you didn’t exist as it all drowned out into faint background noise, the only thing taking your focus was Spencer’s scent consuming your senses.

When the intermission was over, you and Spencer found your way back to your seats, his hand stayed interlocked with yours throughout the entirety of the show. anytime the music got a little bit too loud you would give his hand a soft squeeze supportively, knowing his lack of love for the loud volume.

In response he would lean down and press a gentle reassuring kiss to the side of your head, both letting you know he was okay, and showing his appreciation for your care and knowledge of the little things about him.

Spencer was never the biggest fan of musicals before, but here with you?

Well that was something he could get used to.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Kiss Me Once

The moment you’ve been anxiously awaiting is finally here— your boyfriend Rosie Rosenthal finally arrives home.

(hi @hellfirequinnie @justheretoreadthxxs @ronsenthal @storysimp)

a/n: hugest of huge shoutouts to Winnie (@winniemaywebber) and Gina (@ginabaker1666) for letting me yell about this fic 24/7, not to mention darling Marina’s (@precious-little-scoundrel) spicy Rosie headcanons which played a huge part in the inspiration for this fic (as well as the future parts I have planned 👀) 💕

Warnings: mentions of death (brief mention of death of a parent, war deaths), mentions of sex, Rosie being a tease 👀, definite historical inaccuracies, if there’s anything else y’all would like me to tag, please let me know!

Word count: 3k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

You pace around the foyer of the Rosenthal apartment impatiently.

Your boyfriend, Robert, was coming home after several long years of war, and he was already ten minutes late.

He had insisted on meeting you all at the apartment instead of greeting him as he got off the train— something sweet about wanting to walk into his home and see you all there— but his train had gotten in on time, so where—

“Y/N, he’ll be here honey,” his mother says gently, exchanging a look with his sister from her place in the kitchen where she’s preparing a spread of Rosie’s favorite foods, “You know how the traffic is, especially today.”

“I know, I know,” you nod, your nervous pacing slowing the tiniest bit, “But he said—”

Your worries are interrupted by a knock on the door, and suddenly you’re frozen in place.

“Well? You gonna answer it?” his sister teases, gesturing at the door.

“But—” You glance between his family and the door, conflicted.

“He’s had enough of us fussing over him,” his mother pipes up, moving to stand next to her daughter, “We all know who he’s really here to see,” she adds with a teasing smile.

You glance down with a smile, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away before you move to finally fling the door open.

It truly doesn’t seem real, the sight that greets you as the door opens.

Robert stands there, dapper in his dress uniform, curls neat, hat tucked neatly under his arm.

He blinks in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be the one who opened the door, but the shock on his face is quickly replaced with a wide grin.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you gasp as you’re pulled into his arms for a tight hug, burying your face in his neck as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Missed you so much,” he murmurs softly in your ear before pulling away to take in your face, eyes scanning over your features as if to make sure everything was the same as he remembered.

You do the same, clocking one very noticeable change.

“What’s this?” You laugh, gesturing to your own top lip.

His fingers move self-consciously to the mustache that definitely wasn’t there when he left for flight school.

“Oh yeah, uh… remember I told you I started tryin’ to grow one back in training? Well… it turned into this,” He laughs, meeting your eyes anxiously, “What do you think?”

You rise up into your tiptoes to peck his lips, “I think you look very handsome, my love.”

His hand cups your cheek as you pull away, bringing you back in for a long, tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours after so long, but the rosy spell the two of you are under is quickly broken by his sister pointedly clearing her throat, ignoring her mother’s scolding look at her interruption.

“Wow, Rosie,” she teases as the two of you break apart, “it’s nice to see that you remembered we’re here too.”

“That’s the best welcome you’ve got for your big brother, Jeanie?” He rolls his eyes playfully, unable to hide his smile as he gives you one last squeeze and goes to greet his family.

“Hi, Ma,” he says, voice thick as he embraces his mother for the first time in far too long.

She clings to him in a long, fierce hug, and he returns it just as fiercely until his sister tackles him from the side.

Rosie lets out an oof, quickly adjusting so he has both of them in an embrace.

The four of you sit down for dinner, conversation flowing nonstop. Even with the frequent letters back and forth, Rosie still had plenty to tell you about his life in England, and his family still had plenty to catch him up on.

As his sister is rambling about work, his hand comes to rest on your knee. Still respectable, of course, but the warmth emanating from him makes it difficult to focus on anything else.

As the night continues, you nearly drop your fork into your mashed potatoes when his hand glides ever so slightly up your leg, slipping just underneath the hem of your skirt. He maintains a straight face, wide grin barely flickering as he teases his sister about the crush she inadvertently mentioned, all while his fingers remain indecently close to your core.

His mother is in the middle of filling him in on all the neighborhood gossip when your glass of water comes very close to slipping out of your hand. You catch it in time, mumbling an excuse about being oddly clumsy tonight, when all you can think about are the featherlight patterns Rosie is tracing on the inside of your thigh.

You shoot a glare at him when his mother and sister are distracted, which he meets with a smile, eyes sparkling with mirth, heat simmering just underneath.

Somehow you manage to fumble through the rest of dinner, contributing with simple nods or “mm hm”s as Rosie’s presence next to you overwhelms your mind. As the meal finishes— complete with a mouthwatering cherry pie— Rosie stands and begins gathering plates. You and his mother stand simultaneously to do the same.

“Ma, please sit down,” Rosie insists gently, “I got it.”

As she opens her mouth to protest, he simply shakes his head.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to do this, yeah? Let me help out. Please.”

Eyes softening at the mention of his being away for so long, she relents, and the two of you gather the remaining dishes.

Mrs. Rosenthal and her daughter move to the living room, soft jazz drifting through the apartment as they turn on the radio while you and Rosie work like a well-oiled machine washing and drying dishes. Er… mostly.

“Robbie!” You yelp as he splashes water up towards you, holding your rag up as a shield. You laugh, retaliating with a reckless swing of the still-damp dishrag.

What follows is a playful water fight where miraculously neither of you get too wet, but does end with you pinned between Rosie and the kitchen counter, his lips moving greedily against yours.

You let out a soft squeal as he pulls away briefly to scatter kisses all over your face and neck, mustache brushing against your skin.

“Robbie, that tickles!”

You can feel him grinning as his lips land on yours once more.

“I missed hearing you laugh.” he murmurs between kisses as his hands wander freely over your dress, “Missed you so, so much, honey.”

“I missed you, too,” you sigh as you reluctantly pull away for air, thumb stroking along his cheekbone as you take him in: mustache and all.

“When you re-enlisted, I—”

You take a breath, forcing back the sudden tears that threaten to spill over.

“I was so scared,” you admit softly, “So incredibly proud of you, of course, because I know that’s who you are: you don’t come home until the fight’s over. But so many people were getting those damn Western Union telegrams telling them that their sons or brothers or friends wouldn’t be coming home, and I couldn’t stand the thought of being one of them.” Your voice trembles, and you take a shaky breath in, pressing your forehead to his, “I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you.”

“Honey,” he says softly, nudging your noses together ever so gently so you meet his eyes, “I love you.”

Those words hang in the air for a heartbeat, words that you had only been able to read in his letters for the past two years, words that you hadn’t heard aloud in far, far too long.

“I love you,” he repeats softly, firmly, the words like an oath on his lips, “and I hated the thought of making you and Ma and Jeanie worry, but… but what I hated more was the thought of going back home when there was still so much evil out there. And the kids who were coming in to replace us… that’s it, they were just kids. I couldn’t leave in good conscience knowing that some teenager was gonna be taking my place in the sky and wasn’t gonna make it home because of me. I saw it happen too many times, and I couldn’t—”

He shakes his head, swallows, and meets your eyes again with a soft smile.

“But I’m home now. And I’m not leaving you anytime soon, yeah?”

He leans in for a tender kiss, one that has you melting down to your toes as he pulls you into his arms, swaying ever so slightly.

“Dance with me, honey? I know it’s no Minton’s,” he chuckles, “But it’ll do.”

He holds you close, twirling you around the kitchen with your head resting on his shoulder as Kitty Kallen’s voice drifts in from the living room, Rosie singing along softly in your ear.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He always claimed that his ma and Jeanie got all the musical talent, but you loved to hear him sing in the rare moments you got to. You loved it even more in this moment because it meant that he was here. He was home. He was safe. And he was with you.

You stay wrapped in his arms for the duration of the song, and as it fades into the next one— Glen Miller’s crooning “At Last”— he whispers into your ear once more.

“What would you say,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your neck, “if I asked you to meet me in my room tonight?”

You pull back to meet his eyes, to make sure you understand his meaning. You see a slight nervousness there, tinged with longing, and just below that, a simmering heat that sparks an ember deep in your core.

The two of you had been, er… intimate before. Several times, actually (the fire escape outside his window that happened to also lead to your room in the apartment upstairs made for an excellent escape from both fires and nosy parents wondering what those noises were in the middle of the night), and each time had you seeing stars— sometimes literally if he felt like sneaking you up onto the roof with a blanket on one of the rare clear nights in New York— and longing for the next one. The letters you wrote alternated between sweet and rather scorching when you happened to be in a mood, each of you divulging your fantasies over the years you were apart, hoping to fulfill them when he came home in one piece.

“I’d say,” you murmur, “that I’d love to.”

That bright grin spreads across his face again, lighting him up from the inside out.

“Good,” he says softly, “because I wanna have a proper reunion with my girl.”

His hands slide down to rest low on your hips, pulling you that much closer as his lips seal over yours for a kiss that has butterflies swarming in your belly.

You lose yourself in the feeling of his hands on you, of his lips on yours, in the taste of him— even the utterly foreign (though not unpleasant) feeling of his mustache grazing against your skin has you wanting more, wanting to make up for the time you lost when he was an ocean away.

Something— maybe the crackle of the radio switching stations, maybe some small noise outside, maybe the remnants of the proper girl you should be— brings you back to reality all too soon, and suddenly you’re pulling away and looking up at him regretfully as you remind him:

“Your mother’s probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

He lets out a playful groan, barely heard over the radio as his head slumps onto your shoulder.

“You’re probably right,” he sighs, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he begins fixing up his appearance; attempting to get his hair to lay flat from where your fingers had raked through it, wiping away your bright red lipstick smeared around his mouth, “Let’s go.”

Once you’ve reapplied your lipstick and made an attempt to fix your rumpled clothes and hair, he leads you back into the living room where his mother and sister are lounging in the armchairs next to the radio.

“Sorry, Ma,” he says, cheeky grin firmly back in place as the two of you settle on the loveseat nearby, “Had to squeeze in a dance with my girl.”

You bite back a squeak of surprise as his hand— out of sight of his mother and sister— drifts dangerously low on your hip to give you a playful squeeze, all while maintaining that trademark sparkling Rosenthal grin.

“You two are so sweet,” his mother coos, and you can’t help the shy smile creeping onto your face as you lean into Rosie.

Nor can you help the laugh you let out when you see Rosie sticking his tongue out at Jeanie, presumably in retaliation for the disgusted look on her face.

“Robert,” she scolds, “Be nice to your sister.”

“But Ma—”

“And Jeanette,” she turns to his sister with a rare use of her full name, “Your brother just came home, I won’t have you teasing him for wanting to spend time with Y/N.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but shuts it at her mother’s raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, Robert,” she grumbles stiltedly.

When his mother’s eyes flick to him, Rosie mumbles in the same stilted way.

“Sorry, Jeanie.”

“Thank you,” his mother says crisply, “Now— oh, honey, did I tell you…”

Mrs. Rosenthal somehow has even more neighborhood gossip to tell Rosie, and Jeanie has plenty of questions for her brother about life in England. He happily listens and regales them with stories, his animated way of speaking distracting his family from the way his hand rests on your thigh in plain sight. You should nudge him away, slip your hand into his, do something to make it look more innocent… but you don’t want him to stop tracing patterns onto your thigh over your dress, working his way up and down and back again in a way that makes it very difficult to focus on anything else.

He slips his hand away, a jolt of disappointment running through you at the lack of warmth, just in time for his mother to turn her attention to you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m going to make some tea before we all head to bed, would you like some?”

You politely decline, as you have for the past nearly two years.

It was just you, your father, and your brother after your mother passed when you were four, and when they both enlisted after the Pearl Harbor attack, Mrs. Rosenthal was kind enough to let you, as her daughter's close friend and her son’s girlfriend, temporarily move into her guest room. They were currently somewhere on a boat in the Pacific, and though you were able to send letters back and forth, it was a sporadic way of communicating, and each day you prayed that they would come home safe like your Robbie had.

Jeanette busies herself with the book she had been reading, and Robbie takes the small moment you have for yourselves to pull you close and press a sweet kiss to your cheek, mindful of his sister in the room.

“What was that for?” You ask, grinning. It seems you haven’t stopped smiling since he walked in the door a few hours ago. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, a returning grin brightening his face, “I’m home, and I’m with my girl, and I can give her kisses anytime I want to.”

You don’t think it’s possible for your smile to grow any wider, but it does.

After pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, Rosie turns to his sister.

“Oh, Jeanie, I got you somethin’ while I was over there. Wanted to send it over, but I figured it’d be better if I gave it to you in person.”

He goes over to his pack and rummages around until he produces a small paperback.

“I found this in a bookshop when I was on one of my weekend passes, thought it seemed like something you’d like. Written by a woman, too, isn’t that something,” he says, handing her the copy of Green Dolphin Country, “Happy belated birthday, little sis. Hopefully this makes up a little for the ones I wasn’t here for.”

Oh goodness, your cheeks are starting to hurt, but you can’t stop smiling seeing Jeanie light up at the book. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jeanie squeals, jumping up to squeeze her brother tight. He returns the hug fiercely, and your heart melts when you see him blinking back tears.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, bright grin back in place as she pulls away to devour his gift, adding teasingly, “Y’know, I heard it ends with—”

“No spoilers!” Jeanie whines.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Rosie holds his hands up in surrender, “Just tell me how it ends, promise?”

His little sister beams up at him, looking much younger than her actual age of 22.

“Promise.”

Mrs. Rosenthal returns with a tray bearing three mugs of tea, and night winds down with tea and books and soft chatter as one by one you all retire to your separate rooms.

Rosie shoots you a wink, hand drifting dangerously low on your back as he escorts you to your room before heading for his own just across the hall, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips that has you pleading for time to move faster, for his mother and Jeanie to fall asleep quickly so you can meet him without fear of waking them.

You slip into your favorite nightgown— a thin, filmy thing, one Rosie hasn’t seen before— and begin watching the clock as the wait for your agreed meeting time of 12:30 begins.

[sagephilosophie]

Private ⃟Chamber

༊ IZANA K.

᪥ꜱᴜʟᴛᴀɴ! ɪᴢᴀɴᴀ ᴋᴜʀᴏᴋᴀᴡᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ᴄᴏɴᴄᴜʙɪɴᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

༗ ꪻags ࿐

NSFW, historical AU, Plot twists, heavy kissing, unprotected sex, riding, fingering, no lube, mentioned war, mentioned bloody imagery, unresolved emotional tension, breeding, no aftercare, the dance sequence is based on this mesmerizing indian fusion choreography video by Irina Akulenko - i strongly suggest watching it first for better reading experience and visual layout.

༗ ᭙ord ᥴount ࿐ 2864 II AO3

A/N : This fanfic is pure fiction and is in no way, shape, or form, referencing any real life historic figures or events, this is just an au inspired by the theme and doesn't realistically portrait ancient sultanates. That being said, enjoy reading <3

Your eyes bore into the ground beneath you, every link from the carpet design was enough to keep you a shade of amused in a world where you were the amusement.

The creak from the door you were waiting beside, grabbed your attention and the other girls with you's, the eunuch of the harem rushed out, his heart in his mouth, instructing all of you one final time that day, "His majesty is ready! Again, girls, keep him entertained, just like we practiced. Do not mess up!!! or else i swear on my mother no dinner for ANY of you, if his majesty even spared your lives. Now GO!"

The long line of freshened women inhaled enough air to hold their breath briefly, each held her own hands, and mouthed prayers of her faith, your eyes could only believe in one item beyond the open door, truly valuable to your heart, for nights you forgotten rest, followed all the rules and learned the manners of a concubine to step foot into this very room and take a glance at it.

Your desires guided your feet closer to fill your eyes with the shimmering beauty, a fellow dancer for the night grabbed your arm in place, had she not, your neck wasn't guaranteed to stay intact for too long. The same pair of feet stepped back into position when the instruments hugged all the ears, empty wide purples inevitable to notice, paying you the most stares women from the harem would kill for, the dance began and your head only had one direction from every move and every step, with the same stares it takes to see how long it's taking to delude his consciousness that he was your goal, while you still scanned the darling worn on top of his hair.

Your every limb had followed that of your luxury prison mates' composition, all but your arrogant eyes calling for him to fill his deepest desires with the sight of you.

Not even the twirl could break the eye contact, resisting the split second of looking away, If your role was indeed only dancing for him you would be a dancer, but you're not, you're a concubine, and your job isn't done until an image of you got inked in his memory.

You dazed into your own hypnosis and thought that, had any other girl lifted her trembling face maybe they could have also noticed the phantom of a spiral motion in those moon orbs no living soul before you got the courage to read, he didn't have to lift a finger from his throne as his world was getting painted with the color of your eyes, between the same ones, your own world changed colors into a darker shade a second time, the sizzling of burning homes and screams of abducted maidens, your hometown burnt to ashes, him causing all from the luxury or his palace sitting in his throne similar to his current position, if he can see the fire in the reflection of your spheres, his magnetized brain will confuse it with passion.

Your life imitating art when you got down, the dance showing you more mercy by pulling you back up on your feet in less than no time, while observing his blank expression you put forth as final there will be no plan before echoing just that.

He doesn't have to realise the power he inherited was no match to the power you pinned him down with, the wavering of your waist and hand gestures worked him like a magic spell, and his parted lips ratted him out.

You glued your vision to your plans, resisting every call to quit the dance and strangle him, but that wouldn't go in your favor, for once, you needed the world to revolve around you, even just his world.

Your head spun and spun, doing its own shaking, setting its own tunes playing on with your nerves, the ordinary atmosphere reassured you weren't making any mistakes, not that you'll know, losing grasp of your body and of time, space, and matter.

Next thing you knew, the music died down and your eyes spoke to him louder and more clearly that now is his chance to have you, you tried to manage your breathing and stood in a straight line with all the other girls bowing down, peeking between your eyelashes to see him whispering something in the harem manageress' ears still looking at you.

With the servants escorting you all out, she followed and pointed your way, "You. His majesty wants you in his private chamber. Immediately."

"Shouldn't she get ready first-", Your caregiver saved the time you should be on your way in by interrupting the maid, "She's clean enough. Take her there now, that's an order."

The younger woman held your shoulder and changed your path, unknowingly to the one you wanted to cross from the very beginning.

Your pride thriving through your walk, everything is going with flow and soon shoving you into the jeweled beauty. The passed the final turn with your head held high in the presence of the royal guards, the maid speaking for you, "Open the door. His majesty called for her here."

You smiled openly when they obliged, feeding on the out of place power served to you in the smallest portion, the door closing behind you assured you this might all change, to earn your place back in society.

It made great sense to you that he himself was still not present after asking - no, ordering - for your very presence, you were one of the few poeple who knew how much he enjoys making poeple wait his arrival since your first meeting.

Like he heard you thinking of him, he followed into the room this time you both were alone for good, you turned to bow and left your head hanging low until his hand rised your chin to his face level, "Remind me of your name."

"I'm... whoever you want me to be...", your hand met his own, still holding your head up, and stroked it, "...Your majesty."

"...", the expression he glued on his face warned you, no matter how careful you are, the mystery behind those purple eyes never failed to make you tremble, "When we met before, tell me, you remember ?"

"Yes. When his highness chose me to become his woman... i could never forget that, i... dreamed of seeing you again.", you held on to his arm dearly and went on to winning his heart, "...i no longer can part from you for that long... i don't even know how i made it this far.... your highness, you feel the same, right ?"

"I remember you now, you were beautiful that night too, how could i not recognize those eyes.", his response got the sides of your lips perking up, he can't forget you, how perfect.

In a joyful moment, you fell into his chest and grabbed his clothed back tightly, he hugged you back playing with your hair, you took the chance to move your head to his shoulder and look up to him invitingly, the moment he fell into your trap, you hands moved to his cheeks and brought him down to your lips, warming his cold skin with your fiery one, freshly out of hell.

Your whole body went on an adventure to him; your hands roamed around searching for his own, your lips backing away from his ones chasing them, your feet dragging him to your own furnished paradise behind the curtained bed, as soon as he laid down, you got on top of him, "How i missed this... Izana~"

You stared at him without his crown, the man you met in the same place before he marked you as his favourite concubine, his white silky hair you ran your fingers through overnight, his tanned skin that warmed your bare body and touched every last inch of you possible, and his purple eyes, so empty, and so deep you could drown in them, they never changed, and neither did the way they made your chest heave.

"You're breathing so heavily, i'm assuming...", You gave a startled yelp when he grabbed one of your breasts, "...your knees are about to give in too, right about... now."

Just as he finished talking, the weakness from your knees brought you down, falling to your side next to him, "What-"

"You're sweaty.", he caressed your forehead, bringing his hand down to pinch your cheeks slightly and you swallowed in the realization he was right, "And so anxious. Why is that ?"

"I... y-your majesty... i- i...", your voice came out shaky and cracking, no more words agreed to answer him, which by itself, was the answer he needed, "No need. Your eyes spoke enough."

The familiar sensation was back when he pressed his lips against your own, your submission was a fatal mistake on your end, even in your tense state you had to pull yourself together, remind yourself that it took so long to get here, no risks are allowed to be taken, so you fought back for control over your intimate position.

Sliding your leg onto his torso, his fingers crawled down the hem of your robe, rubbing across your thighs, finally, touching your vulva. Into your mouth, he groaned as his index and middle finger played with you under the fabric.

You felt heated up from head to toe, exactly how Izana intended in order to get you done well for him to devour, he's already been getting impatient to the point of stealing tastes, too intoxicated to let go of your flavorful mouth, but leaving a spot in his heart for the main course of the evening, enjoying the quick slippery feeling between his fingerd, he took them out for his bare eyes to see, and leaning in deeper into your lips.

You gasped jumping out of the kiss, at the hand exploring the top half of your body, snatching his wrist in a matter of seconds, gulping down visibly, "Mm... Izana my sweet... why waste our lively night on somewhere so meaningless... everything you need is down there..."

His doubtful eyes searched the truth in yours, having became less confident than they were during your dance, but the beauty he spotted within shimmering light in their reflection, made him decide to let it slide.

By inspiration of your own suggestion, he grabbed on your waist instead, guiding you upwards towards his lap, it must be the favourite's luck to get away with all your slip ups so far and still have him want you, it was almost concerning how greatly you were treated for no clear reason in your eyes.

From your place you locked your lips back with his own, he could have begged for it had you waited, and struggled to hastily take out any of his garments in your way, moving away from his face solely to focus on lowering yourself down, sinking into him, your hands holding on to his chest, just like old times.

The magic of your touch handling him, you threw your head back and stared at the ceiling getting closer then far again, in a repeated motion, you happened to wonder if it's possible to get any closer, so the movements got faster and your brain deceived you of almost being there, voices slipped out of you from getting worn out, your conscience still trying to reach the roof.

"There. That is where the queen belong. On top.", your pupils widened, '...the-'

"I decided to take you as my one legal wife.", And there it was, the biggest shock you had inside the palace, there was no place for this happening in plan, your neck straightened and turned to look fixdly on him, bouncing on his erection without a stop.

No words have been uttered from either of you, just taking in the sounds of skin slapping and occasional moans. From your part, you really hoped he would finish his statement by asking if you agree, but no, he didn't need to ask, there was one option.

Your legs betrayed your body after a load of work, freezing down in your place, only your chest kept heaving, catching the breath to help you move even just a finger, the one who did help you instead was Izana, pulling you down from your arms into falling in his embrace, holding your lower back and caressing your hair, repositioning himself to thrust upwards.

You hold on to his shoulders tighter, the sweet noises near his ear must have turned him on that you could feel him getting harder inside you, "Imagine... as my wife... whatever you dream of... oh~ you will find beneath your feet."

That topic was starting to make you dizzy, it contradicted what you're living for and you weren't liking that, "My Izana... what if all i want is respect... or power ? Would you not marry me then ?"

"There will be no need for or, If the legal wife of great sultan Izana Kurokawa doesn't have influence over her empire, why should i have married her ? And i'll rip the throats of whoever disrespects you and put their head in the hallway you walk through. You will be my queen, treated like nothing but a queen."

You left his words roam in your head and kept quiet, kissing the cheek near you, focusing back on taking his size, you were getting sweaty while still clothed, from his skin holding tight to yours, he was also hot. The pleasure only intensified from that point slamming harder and harder into your entrance until you felt a twist in your stomach and moaned loudly while you came.

You got back up to ride him again, fastening your speed and holding on to your own hair, your eyes meeting the ceiling again, moving to keep reaching it up and down, listening to raspy groan before you felt sticky liquid between your legs, that's when you looked down to see he followed after you.

Sliding out of his cock as he took the back of your hand and kissed it goodnight, you were keft sore and facing his back, the quietness yelled in your ears, you sat in the bed staring down at him, you couldn't know for sure if he had already fell asleep or not, but took his stilled activity as a good enough proof.

As quiet as a mouse, you removed your top, carefully taking out the red dagger strapped under your breast, it was a risky place for a plan like this but you were told it's the easiest to carry on, had he insisted on showing all of your body attention, everything they prepared you for would have gone to waste.

Holding on to the weapon with dear life you brought it near your ear, but just as you were about to pull it down to his nape in clear sight, you froze in your place, many a time were you unable to carry on moving since you walked in the chamber, your arm won't come down and you began shivering, the tensity caused you to cry.

You weren't supposed to hesitate in stabbing the enemy, by now you should have been back home, announcing the sultan's defeat and bringing his head too with the crown that belongs to your poeple on top of it, and they will cheer, and make a statue in honor of the family you lost in the war, the war he caused. Everything is his fault. The misery of the civilians and of the royal family that took you in... these poeple didn't deserve their throne stolen, they raised when you had no one and even relied on you to take revenge on behalf of your community, and what an honor it was, all the torment from the harem was worth it knowing they trust you with a mission as important, thinking of all the women and children you would spare from this evil man, of course they weren't lying, why would they ?

Everything was going so smoothly... but where did you go wrong ? Why won't you kill him and get the only happy future there is for you ? Is it because... you considered a future with him instead... ? That you... actually did miss him since you were sent here...? What nonsense! Izana kurokawa is the reason you family died! ...now that you think of it, there is no proof of that, that's what they told you-

Are you going to bite the hand that raised you ?! OFF WITH HIS HEAD!!!!!!!

"I... shall serve your head in a plate... for my poeple..."

The dagger fell on your lap, in an attempt to end the job, you held your wet face in your shaky hands and wailed into them like you never did before, "Eh... i can't... i- i can't... do it..."

"Tell me everything."

"...Y-yes your majesty... anything- anything for you... i am *sob* at your... s-service..."

Maybe he knew from the beginning and maybe you fell into his trap, but one thing for sure is; your mission failed.

@sagephilosophie

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Request spam incoming! 🥳

Baldwin can sing and y/n (status and relationship of your choice) finds out about it quite by accident. What happens next?

♡ Voice Of An Angel - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to get to your beautiful request, I hope you like it! As always this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

It was late in the evening when y/n was doing her rounds of the castle.

It was a process that she was more than used to at this point. As a maid of four years now, her duties had become natural.

Her last stop for the night was the king's chambers to collect his day clothing to be washed. As she made her way down the long corridor, a combination of boredom and anticipation plagued her mind.

Half of her just wanted to get her tasks over and done with so that she could relax with a book in the servant quarters.

But the other half wanted to see Baldwin.

She had always respected him, but she knew that he had more on his mind. It was clear that the young king had taken a deep liking to her and she was nowhere near mad about it.

She loved it almost as much as she had grown to love him after all her years working at the castle.

As she came to his door, a gentle and unexpected melody reached her ears. The beautiful sound of somebody singing came from inside the room.

At first, y/n thought that Baldwin was having somebody perform to him and perhaps his sister. But she had just visited his Sybila’s chambers no more than ten minutes ago to find her sleeping peacefully.

So maybe it was a private performance?

Either way, she needed to complete her duties even if it meant interrupting something. So, very carefully and quietly, y/n pushed open the door and slipped inside.

The singing was even more beautiful from inside. She scanned the room with her eyes in an attempt to find the source of the song but she could not see anybody besides Baldwin who sat at his desk writing something.

It was only then she noticed that his mask was removed, so she could see his scarred lips that moved slightly in time with the gorgeous voice.

It was him?

Y/n felt a small smile form on her face. She had no idea that he was so talented, and she didn't think anybody else did either since she had never heard about it.

Y/n stayed in place for a little while, praying that he didn't turn around and see her so she could listen to his voice for a bit longer.

Eventually, she decided that she should probably collect his clothing and leave before he saw her in case he became angry for spying on him.

As she went to collect them from the basket, Baldwin turned around, startled by the sudden movement.

“Oh y/n, it's just you. You frightened me!” he chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest.

Y/n returned the smile, “Sorry about that your majesty” she replied, bundling the clothing up into her arms.

As much as she wanted to compliment him on his beautiful voice, she didn't want to embarrass him in case he hoped she didn't hear.

As y/n turned to leave, Baldwin called for her to wait. She stopped and turned around to look at him.

“If I may ask, how long were you standing there before I saw you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, not very long,” she replied.

Noticing his slightly disappointed yet relieved expression, y/n spoke again.

“But long enough to hear your beautiful voice” she smiled when his eyes lit up and his cheeks went a light shade of pink.

“You did?” He tried desperately to hide his smile but failed horribly.

“I sure did. You have a wonderful voice Baldwin” his smile widened at her words.

“Thank you y/n, you're far too kind to me”

“Well not at all, I have seen many talented singers and I must say, your voice tops them all” she turned fully to him and took a few steps forward.

“Perhaps I could listen to you again sometime?” she asked.

Baldwin smiled bashfully, “I would love that” he replied.

Y/n left the room shortly after and Baldwin could not wipe the grin from his face. Of all people to discover his talent, it was her. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and she thought his voice was lovely!

He had known y/n as his maid for years but had loved her ever since their first meeting.

Baldwin sat at his desk and attempted to continue his work but the anticipation for the following night made that difficult.

He just simply could not wait to see her again. Perhaps this was the beginning of something long awaited and wonderful?

[sapphire-writes]

The Campaign (modern!HOTD)

Part 1 of The Campaign

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: Your support for Rhaenyra Targaryen's political campaign takes an interesting turn when you find yourself face to face with your arch nemesis (enemies to lovers trope).

warnings: NSFW 18+ (explicit sex, fingering, p*ssy slapping, degrading language, oral m-receiving, finger sucking), general language

word count: 3.5k

note: I just really wanted some Aemond filth on this Monday afternoon, I hope you enjoy my loves!

You casually sip on your second glass of wine for the night, letting the soft sound of low-playing jazz roll over you. You used to love events like this. Getting dressed up and smiling for pictures, pressed between your parents. The picture-perfect family.

It was easier when the elections were local, the politics of your backyard. You played the role of the good girl next door well, but it grew tiresome as you grew older. But your family’s role in politics became greater and suddenly you found yourself at another reelection campaign dinner, surrounded by sharks. 

Your parents were smiling now, enraptured in conversation with Rhaenyra Targaryen, a popular candidate they were backing. This election was supposed to be historic, Rhaenyra was running against her half-brother, who was not present this evening, though very well represented. You take another sip of wine, watching the show in front of you. 

You know he’s here somewhere. 

Jace Velaryon walks up to you, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. Not who you were talking about. He wraps a hand casually around your waist, playing the part perfectly. You and Jace aren’t really dating, just putting on a little show to gather some publicity for your parents. Works like a charm. 

Good girl next door dating the perfect boy next door.

A story for the ages. 

Your eyes flicker around the room. He has to be here. 

Aemond Targaryen rarely misses an opportunity to support his family. 

And to annoy you. But who’s counting? 

You and Aemond have known each other since grade school; both funneled into private school when your parents became more well-known. You quickly began to hate each other, both of you top students always battling back and forth for the number one spot in classes. He was such a pretentious ass. 

You finally spot him across the room, next to his grandfather of course. Everything is a learning opportunity for Aemond. He’s dressed in a dark suit, a green pocket square the only pop of color. Your eyes flicker to the dark-haired beauty on his arm, dressed in a deep blue cocktail dress. 

Floris Baratheon. 

The drama of the evening. Her family notably always supported Rhaenyra’s campaign, but when the tabloids spotted Aemond on a trip to Storm’s End, everything turned upside down. 

Quite the scandal. 

You meet Aemond’s eyes, blue and violet, his gaze reminiscent of a shark. Dating my ass, you think to yourself. Everything in this world is a game. 

Aemond looks away, not acknowledging he’s seen you. Typical. You’ll peruse the crowd for a while, circling each other until the opportunity comes to lunge at each other’s throats. The usual game you two play with one another. 

It comes sooner than you expect when you peel yourself from Jace’s grip to get a third glass of wine. They’re being stingy with the pours, it’s barely a sip. You thank the bartender when you hear his voice. 

“If we look at the numbers there’s really no chance,” he says to Jason Lannister, motioning to the bartender for another drink.

Jason acknowledges you first, not without a quick scan of the black cocktail dress you wear. You can hardly blame him, you know you look hot. You force a tight smile. 

“Good to see you,” Jason says nodding. 

“Nice to see you too Jason,” you lean forward, politely kissing his cheek, “Aemond.”

Aemond returns your tight smile with one of his own, taking a sip of the new glass of whiskey in his hand. The ring that bears his family crest catches the light as he swallows. 

“Y/N,” he says.

“Ah! Ms. Y/L/N,” Jeyne Arryn says, sliding up to the bar and smiling, “I thought I recognized you, but I had to come over to make sure!”

You smile brightly. Lights, camera, action. 

“So nice to see you Ms. Arryn,” you tell her, kissing her cheek. 

“Please, call me Jeyne,” she insists, “I’m so happy you are here, I find these events terribly dull.”

“As do I,” you tell her, earnestly, “but that’s what I love about Rhaenyra Targaryen, you know? She makes these events so worth it, it's really time well spent.”

“Is that so?” Jeyne asks.

“Oh yes, she really understands the need for addressing critical issues while also not wasting anyone’s time,” you glance around the room, “Not to be a gossip, but you just don’t see other politicians making that effort.”

“I see,” Jeyne says nodding.

Aemond lowers his head beside you. God you fucking annoy him. Your fake sweet voice that floats around the room as you continue to talk to Jeyne, the smell of your perfume. Good Girl by Carolina Herrera. The exact opposite of what Aemond knows you are. You flash him a look, eyebrow raised as you escort Jeyne Arryn to Rhaenyra to converse. Aemond knows you. You’re a predator just like him.

Entertaining Jeyne Arryn is easy enough, but you put on a good show reeling her in. The rest of the evening is exhausting, spent campaigning for Rhaneyra and biting your tongue. Politicians can be such dicks. 

Aemond finds you once more when you’re returning your glass.

“Well done,” he tells you.

“You could have tried a little harder,” you tell him, taking out your lipstick, “Where’s Aegon anyway? Scared?”

“Yeah right,” Aemond says, finishing his drink, “These things aren’t important to him.”

You use a small mirror from your purse to adjust your lipstick. 

“Funny,” you tell him, pouting, “I could have sworn Aegon loves a good party.”

It’s low-hanging fruit, but it riles Aemond up all the same. You know exactly what buttons to push. He hums, staring you down, but you can tell he’s pissed. Aegon’s a retired party boy, you haven’t got your hands on all the stories yet but you know there are juicy ones. Ones to ruin political careers. But that’s the hard thing, dealing with families with money. It buries things. 

You smile sweetly at him, as Jace finds you once more. 

“Almost ready to go?” he asks, draping an arm over your waist. 

You stare at Aemond a moment more, before turning your gaze to Jace and nodding.

“I just need to get my coat,” you tell him, “Then we can start saying our goodbyes?”

“Sounds good,” Jace tells you, smiling at Aemond.

You walk quickly out of the ballroom, toward the coat closet. To your dismay, a small card that reads back in a moment rests on the counter, the window shut. You tap your foot impatiently waiting for the coat checker to return. Minutes tick by and your impatience grows. 

“Fuck it,” you hiss to yourself, and try the door to the side. 

Luckily, it's unlocked and you walk inside the spacious closet, full of different coats. You paw through the expensive fabrics searching for your own. 

“Impatient,” Aemond’s voice is behind you.

You don’t bother turning around as you continue searching for your coat. 

“Need some help?”

“Not from you,” you snap, continuing your search. 

Aemond chuckles and you freeze, turning to face him. 

“Could you be any more insufferable?” you ask your annoyance at a tipping point. 

“Probably,” he answers with a shrug.

You roll your eyes, humming.

“Go away, Aemond,” you tell him, but he doesn’t leave. 

“I don’t think you really want that,” he says smoothly, causing your brows to furrow.

“Trust me, it’s all I want right now,” you think for a moment, “well, that and going home having a hot bath, and saying goodnight with my vibrator. This evening has fucked me enough already, might as well get off.”

“Velaryon not doing it for you?” he asks with a tone of curiosity. 

You smirk at him. 

“You want to know how my boyfriend fucks me?” you ask.

Aemond scoffs.

“Boyfriend? Please,” Aemond chuckles, “That little show out there might fool everyone else, but not me sweetheart.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth twisting into a frown. You don’t like being called out, let alone by Aemond. 

“Doesn’t mean he’s not fucking me,” you tell him.

Aemond merely chuckles again.

“He’s not fucking you,” Aemond says, hands in his pockets, “You’d be much more pleasant if you were getting off more frequently.”

“Is that why you’re such a peach?” you ask him, causing his eyes to narrow, “Floris must be sucking you dry on the daily, huh?”

You watch as Aemond’s tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek. Gotcha. You laugh slightly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“And here I thought you were all over that,” you tease, “Maybe I should go out there, and see what you’re missing out on.”

“Whatever,” Aemond says, shrugging, “Be my guest.”

“Maybe I will,” you continue, “She seems pretty unsatisfied.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Aemond snaps, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Please, I am just getting started,” you counter, ignoring his rising anger.

It feels good getting a rise out of him like you’re flexing a muscle you haven’t worked in forever. 

The party was just a warm-up compared to the fights you and Aemond have gotten into. 

“Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you,” you tell him, “Did you call TMZ yourself on your way to Storm’s End?”

You walk closer to him.

“You pay some photographer to take those raunchy photos on her family’s yacht?” you ask, standing right in front of him now.

“Got any more tricks up your sleeve, Targaryen?” you ask. 

“You don’t even know,” he says smirking, “What about you and Velaryon? You expect me to believe you were just careless?”

You know what he’s talking about. The photos that revealed your ‘relationship’ a month ago outside a little coffee shop.

“I was careless,” you answer, making a pouty face, “Jace and I are in love.”

“Bullshit,” he says, barking out a laugh, “Got to hand it to you, you’re a good actress.”

“Fuck you,” you tell him, the sweet facade dropping, “I hate you so much.”

Then his mouth is on yours, his hand securely on the back of your neck, the other painfully squeezing your waist, dragging you flush against him. You gasp against his mouth in surprise as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. His hands move down to grab your ass, squeezing the soft flesh painfully. 

You moan as he does so and he takes the opportunity to bite your lower lip, dragging it outwards. Aemond wrestles his hand underneath your dress, parting your legs, dipping his fingers below the waistband of your lace panties. He lets a long finger stroke through your dripping folds. 

“You’re pretty wet for someone who hates me,” he taunts, slapping your pussy, “Fucking pathetic.”

You twitch against him as he delivers another painful slap to your throbbing clit. Your hands tangle in his silky hair as he sinks two long fingers into you, crooking them against your spongy walls. The tips of his fingers press into the rough spot inside of you that has you gasping against his hot mouth. 

“Oh, is that good?” Aemond asks, thumb circling your clit.

“Fu-fuck you,” you manage, biting your lip as continues to fuck you with his fingers.

“I plan to,” he answers, “After we put those pretty lips to better use.”

You slam your head back into the wall, the blow is cushioned by a fur coat that got pinned between your back and the wall. Aemond lowers his head to your neck, sucking and kissing the smooth skin. Aemond’s fingers work magic inside of you, creating a wave of pleasure in your abdomen about to crest. Your legs begin to shake and Aemond lifts his head, a sly smile on his face. 

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” he scolds, but he continues thrusting his fingers, swirling his thumb around your sensitive bud.

Tears well in the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t,” you whine, feeling helpless as your orgasm washes over you. 

Your vision goes white as you clench around his slender digits, a rush of wetness coating your inner thighs. Aemond makes a tsking sound as you come down from your high, before removing his fingers from you. His face is disapproving as you regulate your breathing, feeling flushed.

“As I said,” he shakes his head, “Pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” you snap, dropping to your knees. 

Aemond smiles down at you as you begin to unbuckle his pants. You can feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants. You try to keep your face neutral as you release him, but you’re shamefully impressed by his thick length, how he’s already twitching and leaking precum. You spit on your palm before you take him in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his length. You pump your hand around him, once, twice, and lean forward when he stops you with a hand under your chin.

You look up through your lashes, momentarily confused before he’s shoving his fingers between your parted lips. You can taste yourself on the slender digits and gag slightly as he presses them deeper into your mouth. Aemond smirks down at you.

“Show me how much you want to suck my cock,” he tells you, “And clean up the mess you made.”

You feel a new rush of desire between your legs at his instructions but do as you’re told, greedily sucking on his fingers, while continuing to pump his cock with your hand. Aemond hums with approval.

“I guess you do know how to listen, who knew?” he taunts, yanking his fingers from your mouth.

A string of saliva connects you to him before he wipes his hand on some unfortunate person’s coat. You look up at him, watch his lip curl and know another smart-ass comment is about to be hurled your way, so you lean forward quickly, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth. 

Effectively shutting him up.

Aemond lets out a breathy moan, he quickly silences by biting his lip. His hand finds the back of your head as you bob your head around his length. You want him whimpering, you want him shaking as he made you, so you remove your head before spitting on his pulsating cock making it as sloppy as possible. 

It works, eliciting a whimper from the tall Targaryen as he hits the back of your throat. Your eyes beam triumphantly as you let him slip through your lips, wrapping them around his tip and sucking hard. The salty taste of him lingers on your tongue and you hold back a moan as you flatten your tongue over his slit. He hisses through his teeth as you take him fully once more, raising a hand to fondle his heavy-set balls. 

“Fuuuck,” he moans, before gripping the back of your head and pulling you from his length.

You laugh breathlessly, mascara beginning to run, your mouth a puffy ruined mess. 

“Pussy,” you taunt, as he drags you to your feet. 

He turns you to face the wall, pushing you through the coat racks and pressing you against it.

“You were so much prettier with my cock shutting you up,” he tells you, lifting your dress and dragging the lace panties you wear down to your ankles. 

You step out of them to assist him, listening as he pulls a condom from his wallet. He tears the foil with his teeth, rolling the condom on his hard length. 

“Better shut me up then,” you challenge. 

Aemond chuckles, bunching your panties in his hand before shoving them in your mouth. Your eyes widen slightly as he angles himself behind you, pushing the head of his cock through your folds. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction but he feels so fucking good stretching you open; you squeeze your eyes tightly shut to focus on anything besides the pulsing ache between your legs that matches your thundering heartbeat in your chest. 

Aemond rolls his hips and your eyes roll back into your head. You whimper against the lace in your mouth as the sound of wet slapping fills the small space. One of Aemond’s hands clings to your waist, pulling you toward him to meet his brutal thrusts and the other wraps around your neck. You can feel Aemond’s breath near your ear as he continues his unrelenting pace. 

“Keep making those sounds, I’m only going to fuck you harder,” Aemond says in your ear, increasing his thrusts to make his point perfectly clear.

You try to retort back something along the lines of ‘I’m barely making any noise you prick’ but it comes out a muffled moan as he sloppily kisses the side of your neck. 

A noise distracts you momentarily, as the door to the coat closet opens. Aemond and you freeze, your walls clenching around his cock as he stills. You turn your head, meeting his eyes. Aemond purses his lips, silently shushing you. Your eyes are wide as you hear the coat check move around. 

“Sorry ma’am, we’re a bit short-staffed tonight. I need to be in two places at once!” the coat check says, rummaging through the coats to your left.

You close your eyes, hoping you’re hidden enough behind the coats that you won’t be found out. Your heart pounds, matching the pulsing of Aemond inside you. The bastard is still rock hard, warming his cock inside of you. 

“Here you go ma’am,” the coat check says, “Thank you for your patience.”

The door opens once more and closes with a click as the coat check leaves. Aemond and you are still for a moment longer, and then he chuckles. 

“Fuck, I could stay just like this,” Aemond teases, “make you my personal little cock sleeve.”

You glare at him and he begins his thrusts once more, easily sliding in and out of your slippery folds. 

“I think that made you even wetter, huh?” he taunts, balls slapping against your ass, “You like that idea? Getting caught being my little cockslut?” 

Aemond moans at the thought, a shiver rolling through you as he pounds into you. He’s so deep, you’re sure you feel him in your stomach as you clench around him. The wet squelching of your soaked cunt is humiliating, but he feels so fucking good you can’t find it in you to care at the moment. 

You whimper, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure build in your abdomen, a pleasurable burning coursing through your veins like you’ve been dipped in fire. Aemond’s hand tightens around your throat and you babble against the panties in your mouth. He lifts a finger, plunging it through your lips and tearing the material from your mouth. 

“I’m going to cum,” you whimper, free from the gag.

“Are you?” he asks, a cocky grin on his face, “What do we say?”

You bite your lip as he angles his hips, thrusting his cock perfectly against your sweet spot, and your legs begin to tremble.

“Can I cum?” you ask through gritted teeth, heat flooding your face.

Aemond’s answering grin is sadistic. 

“Is that any way to ask?”

You glare at him, lips set in a tight frown. 

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please can I cum, Aemond?”

“Go ahead,” he says, “Soak my cock like the greedy, little slut you are.” Each word is punctuated with a thrust of his hips slamming into you. 

With a final strangled moan, you’re trembling, falling over the edge and taking Aemond with you. Your mind turns to mush as he thrusts a final time before finding his own release with an elongated groan. 

For a moment, Aemond rests his head against your back as you both regulate your breathing. Then he’s unsheathing himself, removing the condom and buttoning his pants, as you shimmy your dress back over your ass, reaching for your discarded panties. You step in them quickly, smoothing them under your dress. Aemond tosses the used condom in a trashcan.

You fix your hair, and blot the corners of your eyes with the tips of your fingers, trying to fix the ruined mascara. You wipe at your lips too, certain your lipstick is completely gone, most likely staining Aemond’s cock. Aemond wets his own lips, before wiping them with his hand and smoothing his hair. He clears his throat before reaching forward, grabbing your coat from a hanger. 

You snatch it from his hand, before leaving the room, heading back to the ballroom not looking back. You spot Jace and plaster a smile on your face, despite the ache between your thighs, and your trembling legs. 

“Hey! They want to take one more picture,” Jace tells you before frowning slightly. 

You look into his eyes.

“What?” you ask.

“You have-uh,” he motions to his neck, “Is that a hickey?”

His comment gathered some attention, and a woman turns to look at you. You smile, laughing brightly, pressing a kiss to Jace’s cheek.

“Honey, what did I tell you about leaving marks?” you tell him, wrapping a hand around his waist, “We’re not a couple of teenagers.”

“I think it’s adorable,” the woman says, smiling now, “You two are clearly crazy about each other.”

You smile, and give her a polite laugh, spotting Aemond reappearing on the other side of the room. He meets your eyes before Floris joins him, beckoning him toward his grandfather’s table.

Crazy is one way to put it.

Note: Teehee I hope you enjoyed this! As always, likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated, I LOVE hearing your thoughts! Until next time besties 💖

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AEMOND TAGLIST: @warmfieldofgrass

BOLD MEANS I COULD NOT TAG

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 12

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

WARNING : 18+, Without using any fancy word, this chapter is a 'Smut'.

As this chapter contains some mature/ Adult languages, I am not tagging the people I usually do as I am not sure about their preferences.

Chapter 12

The newlywed couple arrived at their destination. Arnav introduced Khushi to Hariprakash and his wife, Gauri, who were waiting at the gate. He had declined Anjali's offer to receive the bride and groom into the house for the first time, a tradition usually performed by elders. Anjali had her own responsibilities to fulfill with her in-laws, as it was the first wedding in her in-laws' family since her marriage. He didn't want to burden her with even more responsibilities.

At the entrance, Arnav stopped Khushi from entering the house. Surprise marred her beautiful face. She looked ethereal today, with his sindoor adorning her forehead, marking her as his forever.

"One minute," he rushed inside to instruct Gauri to bring some necessary things. He looked like a prince in his charcoal black sherwani. He shed his top layer, revealing the off-white kurta he wore underneath. Khushi's adoring eyes traced his movements. Then He reappeared before her with an aarti thali, surprising Khushi to her core.

"You don't believe in such things."

Arnav kissed the side of her forehead lightly. "But you do, and it's not every day Mrs. Raizada enters her house for the first time."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Khushi ducked her head as Arnav applied a tikka to her forehead. A single tear rolled down her left eye when she looked up.

"Am I not doing it right?"

"You are perfect", she uttered with a watery smile.

After all the rituals, the couple bid goodbye to Hariprakash and proceeded to their bedroom. Khushi's heart skipped a beat as she saw the bed and nearly stopped at the sound of the door locking. Her eyes scanned the room, trying to distract herself from not fainting on her first night with her husband. The room was bathed in a soft, flickering glow from the candles scattered throughout. Their warm light danced on the walls, casting gentle shadows and creating an intimate, almost magical atmosphere. As she took in her surroundings, she realized she liked the room. The dark oak furnitures had created such a soothing and harmonious atmosphere with the off-white bed sheets and curtains. The light green carpet added to the charm even more.

Her eyes fell on the mirror attached to the dressing table in front of her. She found a dark-haired girl with pink lips and rosy skin blinking back at her. The girl looked beautiful in her red Benarasi saree and her gold jewellery that sparkled in the light coming from the candles. Then, her gaze shifted to a tall, broad-shouldered man in a kurta standing behind her. They were beautiful, this couple in the mirror. They looked like they belonged together.

"Are you hungry?"

"Huh?", Turning around Khushi couldn't quite understand what he was asking. Hungry!!?? Hungry for what? She looked at his lips and her throat suddenly went dry. She licked her lips nervously.

"You haven't eaten much at the wedding. Tumhein kuch kha lena chahiye."

"No, I am alright. Mujhe bhook nahin hai.""

And just like that, she lost all her nerve. Her downcasted eyes caught sight of his feet approaching in her peripheral vision. As he took a step forward, she took one back until she bumped into the dressing table with nowhere else to go. His hands gently drew her closer, grabbing both sides of her waist. With her forehead and nose pressed to his, she closed her eyes and waited for the sweet pressure of his lips that she had been longing to feel again for more than two years. When that didn't happen, she slowly opened her eyes and found herself caged in the intense gaze of her husband.

"You are trembling like a leaf," he murmured against her lips. "It's just me, Khushi."

With his gentle, reassuring voice, all the tension and nervousness left her body, one vertebra at a time. She surrendered herself fully to the man who had peeled back the cover from her soul. It was only fitting that he would be the one to uncover her body.

Arnav gently took her face in his palm, angling her towards him and took her lips between his own, finally losing himself in her sweetness.

In any of her dreams, awake or asleep, his kiss had never felt like this. As often as she stretched the scene up, remembering what it felt like to have his lips moving with hers, memories could never be but shadow, slightly misshapen and without definition.

There were a hundred thousand nuances, both emotional and visceral. His lips were gentle yet commanding, his hands on her body tender yet possessive. His left hand touched her bare midriff sending electricity down her spine, while his other hand cradled her face, his thumb drawing circles in her cheek. Her head felt dizzy, her chest constricted from not breathing enough, but he was the only air she needed right now. If she could, she would tear her flesh and skin apart and crawl into him.

Alas! it was not logically possible. He broke the kiss giving them both time to catch their breath. The back of his kurta was twisted in her fingers as their bodies rose and fell together. He trailed small kisses along her chin, leading to the side of her neck, and ending in her collarbone. Her head instinctively fell back giving him more room. "I guess you already know what happens between a man and his wife, huh?" he murmured against her collarbone, his fingers nimbly undoing the clasp of her necklace.

"Huh?... Umm... The basics, I guess... Buaji talked to me but she didn't make much sense". His fingers were already after her earrings. As he took them off, he replaced each earring with a tender kiss.

"Buaji?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. His fingers crept down along her arm to hold her hand. He removed all the bangles one by one and then put a kiss on the underside of her wrist. He repeated the same on the other side as well. "I didn't know Buaji was that resourceful." His voice dropped an octave. He swiftly got rid of the dupatta and tikli that adorned her head. He kissed her forehead briefly. His nose traced a path down her own. "What did she tell you? "

Khushi couldn't think clearly with him so close to her. His fingers moved back to her bare waist and slowly travelled to her back. His fingers kept toying with the strings that held her blouse together, whereas Her fingers clutched his collar tightly. Her eyes roamed several times from his lips to his eyes, finally settling on his lips. She licked her own, drawing his attention to her mouth. In a barely there voice, she answered "She told me to let you do whatever you want...... said you would know what to do."

Khushi watched as one corner of his lips lifted, forming a smirk. "Oh, so much confidence in her Damad. Remind me to buy a nice gift for Buaji when we go back." He captured her lips again, circling her waist with his left arm while his right hand untied the strings on her back one by one. And then slowly his hand slipped under her blouse. Surprised, Khushi gasped, breaking their kiss and looking at him with wide eyes.

His thumb began to trace patterns leisurely, causing her skin to break into goosebumps, "Do you want me to stop?" When she shook her head, he murmured, " It would feel even better without the clothes "

Arnav gathered the pallu and the pleats of her saree and unwrapped his beautiful wife with utmost care. As Khushi looked up she found his eyes had darkened. The fire and desire burning in his gaze matched the heat that ran through her veins. Her creamy skin turned pink under his intense gaze. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, still clad in her blouse and petticoat.

Embarrassed, Khushi covered her face with both hands drawing a chuckle from Arnav. He peppered the back of her hands with kisses. "Come on, biwi, don't hide from me." When she removed her hands and looked at him with shy eyes and pursed lips, he whispered, "Among these four walls, there's no secret, no shame and no judgment between us. Okay?"

Khushi bit her bottom lip, her eyes filled with shyness as she softly said, "But you are fully covered". Arnav smiled softly as he kissed her lips once again and sat up to remove the kurta in a fluid motion. Khushi's face warmed at the sight of his bare body, now fully on display, revealing what she had been admiring beneath his clothes until now. Arnav carefully positioned himself above her, taking her hand and softly kissing her palm before placing it on his chest, near his heart.

"Ab theek hain?"

Her answering smile was enough for him to start kissing her again, while his fingers went to her blouse, exposing her to him. His lip trailed down, showering her with kisses. Then, he put his lips on one of those places he wanted to, the one that's pink and perfect and seemed like it's pointing at him, causing Khushi to clutch his hair, pressing him to her even more.

Khushi let out a tiny whine when he left his previous spot and moved down further, feathering kisses along his path.

Toying with the strings of her petticoat, he looked at her flushed, beautiful face. "Tell me to stop and I will stop, okay?"

Khushi watched him raptly, as he untied her lower garment and slowly removed it from her body, sliding it down her legs. He lifted one of her ankles and kissed the skin over her payal. His kisses then moved up to her leg, over her knee and along her thigh. He stopped his ascend as he decided to try something he had heard in passing from the raunchy stories his friends used to babble about their encounters. He placed a finger on his target and pressed gently, causing Khushi to gasp and clasp his wrist in an iron hold.

"Shsss..relax". He paused for a moment, watching her reaction closely. With her eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and breathing quick and shallow, she was the most breathtaking creature Arnav had ever laid eyes on. Her blush slowly spread down her body under his dark gaze. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved his finger in slow, deliberate circles, feeling her body respond beneath his touch. With his other hand, he spread her legs wider. Then he lowered his head to explore further, causing Khushi to melt into the bed, her head falling back against the pillow as she clutched the bed sheet in both hands. Her soft moans filled the room.

If the noises she was making sounded ridiculous, Khushi was entirely unaware. If the way her body rose to meet him was embarrassing, Khushi was blissfully oblivious. There was not a single thought in her head. Her entire existence was given over to this feeling rising in her, this pleasure so absolute she was helpless to control it or do anything but let it build inside her.

The tips of her fingers and toes started to tingle. Her back arched as she covered her mouth to suppress her moans. Khushi blinked sporadically, trying to see past the spots in her vision. Her breath was ragged, her chest heaving. And finally, she met his eyes. His smile was small and pleased, the look in his eyes, unlike any expression she had ever seen him wear. This was her look, she realized. It was only hers. This combination of love, adoration, complete devotion and tenderness.

Her hand was trembling as she rested it against his cheek. He turned his head, kissing her palm as he hovered above her. Stroking her hair away from her face, he kissed her forehead lingeringly, holding her tight. He ducked his head, his nose tickling her neck as they just breathed together.

Then He lined up their bodies. She could feel him against her thigh. She didn't realise he had taken off the rest of his clothes. As much as fear of the unknown was there, but bigger part was her love for him. Her body called for his - eager, aching even. Part of her wanted to reach out and take him in her hand. Yet, she held back. However, curiosity got the better of her and she glanced down. She couldn't help but gasp, momentarily pondering how he would fit inside. Despite the uncertainty, her determination prevailed. She let her hands wander along his arms, then his shoulders and finally, she encircled her arms around his neck. She gently pulled his head down to hers as she widened her legs.

His heart gave a thud at the sight of her. She was exquisitely beautiful with her dark curls sprawled in his pillow and her small frame quivering in anticipation. He rained tiny kisses across her nose and cheeks as his elbows caged her head on both sides. He moved one of his hands to her bottom to raise her towards him. He murmured, "Thora dard hoga" and looked at her intently for any sign of discomfort as he pushed inside her for the first time.

It was painful indeed, and every ridge of him dragged along her fluttering walls as she struggled to take him. He filled her up with a slow push and a strained groan slipping past his lips which drown out her quiet whimpers.

Soon, khushi realized how incredible it was, the way she stretched to fit around. Yes, she felt the burn as he went deeper into her, a sharp pain, but it turned into a dull ache with time. She was more wrapped up in the way her body was made to accept his, like puzzle pieces. It was an idea as old as time and yet so new to her. She didn't realise she was crying, till he kissed her eyelids and wiped her tears with his thumb. And then that thumb kept caressing her cheeks as she recovered from the ache of him being inside her body for the first time. Khushi could feel him everywhere, inside her and around her; stretching her and filling her completely. And then his fingers whispered across her skin as if to ease away the inevitable pain.

He had been inside her head and her heart for so long, that it was only fitting for him to be inside her body as well.

"Look at me, Khushi" he whispered. "Open your eyes."

Khushi hadn't even realized she'd closed her eyes until she suddenly remembered why she had. It was almost too much when she looked into his eyes. Like this love they shared was too big to fit inside their human bodies. Like it would consume her whole. She was his, body, mind and soul.

Arnav stilled, letting her get accustomed to him. But the way her walls squeezed and clenched around him, it tested his resistance even more. Then unable to hold himself any longer, he rasped her name as he began to move, setting a gentle yet steady rhythm with deep strokes. He kissed her once, twice and then gathered her in his arm, repositioning them, when the nature of her whimpers and moans morphed into that of pleasure. He pushed her leg up to her chest and bit his lower lip for concentration as he went deeper and deeper. The tips of their noses bumped together with his every move.

She cupped his face and a thrill went down her spine when she felt the way his jaw tensed as her hip rose on their own accord to meet his. She felt the scratch of his stubble against her palms as acutely as she felt him move inside her. His gaze entrapped her into a hypnotic trance. His scent, his taste, his touch, his voice everything drew her in. The sounds that surrounded them—the flickering of the candles mingling with their heavy breathing and the rustling of their bodies, complemented by the tinkling of her payals—were nothing short of an orchestra.

They shared their breaths as they shared their bodies. Khushi felt a nameless yet familiar fiery sensation creep along her spine, igniting every nerve ending in her body into flames. The fire consumed her senses and reduced everything within her to ashes, except for him. She felt her toes curled as she clung to him, burying her face in his neck and digging her fingers into his sweat-drenched shoulders, gripping hard enough to draw blood as her body began to quiver.

Arnav caught her hands and intertwined his fingers with hers as he lifted them above her head, one by one. He lowered his head to capture her whimpering lips in a searing kiss. And then with intertwined fingers, intertwined limbs, intertwined mind and intertwined soul, he claimed her over and over again and marked her as his forever, just as she did to him.

As they came floating down from their shared sensation, Arnav gathered her in his arms. Completely caught up in the feel of him and the emotion of the moment, Khushi was beyond words. As Khushi gazed at him, she realized that she had gotten her sindoor all over him—on the side of his neck, his jaw, his forehead. She turned crimson red, thinking about the cause of it as she hid her face in his chest. With his heart beating beneath her ear, an unfamiliar feeling surged through her and consumed her so much that she couldn't help but voice it.

"How many girls have you been with?"

"What?" Arnav chuckled, caught off guard by the question, especially in a moment like that. He raised his head to look at her clearly. Her face was completely bare except for her red bindi. This one wasn't her usual detachable kind and was likely made of kumkum, he guessed, which had been slightly smeared during their activities. Gently, he raised his free hand to clear away the smudged edge with the corner of his thumb and whispered, "It's a rather unusual question to ask your husband, Mrs. Raizada, especially just after..." His voice carried a hint of amusement.

"Just tell me." He slightly arranged themselves so that he could see her face. "One of them is Lavanya Kashyap, right?"

"How do you know this name?"

"I have my resources. Just tell me," she whispered.

"No, Lavanya Kashyap is not one of them. It's hardly even a 'them'..... there was just this one girl..... what's happening, Khushi?"

Khushi moved close to him and looked at him with her big, mesmerizing eyes. They watered slightly as her voice became heavy, "From now on, you are mine, Mr. Arnav Singh Raizada, do you understand?" His eyes bore into her as love and adoration seeped into his orbs. She tried to swallow around the tightness in her throat and murmured, "I want to erase every thought of every girl who's ever crossed your mind, except for me."

<previous> | <next>

@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari

[filletedfennysnake]

Arthuriana August (6-10): Sick Leave, @caer-gai

Tristan, Palamedes, and Dinadan in what is a top contender for my favorite scene in Le Morte D'Arthur:

Yes, Tristan gets sick deathly multiple times in the course of... a week? Master of continuity Malory is not, but I appreciate his attempt at the hurt/comfort trope. Imagine the tags on AO3

Design notes and reference under the cut!

Palamedes' taẖfifa: I spent quite a while going down a rabbit hole, trying to discern EXACTLY what his headwear would be (I think he wears mostly Western clothing, just out of convenience, but he deserves something to remind him of home and remain connected to his religion). I now have a very rough backstory/headcannon for him that I may rant about later, bottom line being that he was a high ranking soldier in the Mamluk Sultanate (despite being ethnically Bedouin and from the Sinai peninsula... oh man oh man he would have learned to face prejudice early on. My poor guy). So, what would a military official wear? I went with a taẖfifa, which is a kallawtah cap with a turban wrapped around it criss-cross style. They were originally popular with soldiers and became more ornate/civilian as the centuries wore on. I recommend giving the linked article a read; it's extremely fascinating.

For my drawing reference I ended up using something that I don't think was really a taẖfifa, however, it was the best approximation I could find on short notice for that angle (the manga is called A Bride's Story, by Kaoru Mori. best and prettiest historical manga I have ever read, set in 18th century Central Asia. read it.)

The bench: mildly embarrassing to add this one since I barely needed it, but I wasn't sure of the bench status in medieval Britain and was compelled to find out. Landed on a collection of very sexy, very high-resolution scans from a 1300s manuscript called Guiron le Courtois (which is about Palamedes! I accidentally came full circle). And if you want a text in which people are sitting on benches, then boy do I have a link for you. There are... 16 benches total??? not counting tables and beds. no clue what's going on there, but I the manuscript is so pretty I think I'll make an appreciation post for it later.

Dinadan has his rebec (which I drew ridiculously large. oops) by his feet. just had to google 'rebec' for that one lads. thank god for hipsters

[sehunniepotwrites]

CELEBRATION | JH.S

a GOING FOR THE GOLD bonus scene you’re so golden: the olympic collection

SYNOPSIS. Four days after you win gold, it’s Johnny’s turn to earn his place on the podium. As his proud girlfriend, it’s your job to support him and tease the hell out of him as he earns his spot on the podium.

GENRE. established relationship!au, olympics!au, suggestive  PAIRING. Olympic Swimmer!Johnny Suh x (f) Olympic Swimmer!reader

WARNINGS. no explicit content (sex); y/n makes the blowjob gesture (tongue poking cheek); johnny gets a boner 

WORD COUNT. 2k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE. You don’t have to read the other parts but it would make a lot of sense if you did. 

DAY 12 AT THE VILLAGE, DAY 8 OF THE GAMES: MEN’S 200M BUTTERFLY FINALS

Four days after you won gold, the roles are reversed. This time, you are the one in the crowd, screaming until your lungs collapse, as you watch Johnny’s wide wing span take over his entire lane. You watch as Johnny comes up for a breath, mouth open wide and gasping for air, handsome face drenched in water and determined eyes covered by the black goggles. It’s the final lap and there’s only a short distance between him and the predicted runner up in this race. 

You and the girls–Sooyoung, Yerim, Seungwan, Seulgi, and Joohyun–squeeze each other’s hands with such intensity. Jaehyun, who is not participating in any event that day, rests his hands on your shoulders, his grip tightening as Johnny’s opponent picks up the pace. The intensity of his hold doesn’t even phase you, not when your new boyfriend is so close to obtaining an Olympic gold medal for himself. 

The small crowd with the Aquatic Center roars with excitement and adrenaline as Johnny and his competitor reach for the wall at the exact same time. None of you can determine the winner from that close call from your point of view, so you impatiently wait for the results to appear on the big screen. 

Johnny’s large body is bobbing in the water, goggles already ripped from his head, and hands gripping tightly to the edge of the pool. Commotion erupts from all around you, with Jaehyun’s arms shaking your body and Yerim’s screams ringing in your ear. It’s then you realize that your man had done it–he earned the top spot on the podium. You’re crying at this point, so happy that he achieved his lifelong dream and that you were there to witness this historic moment.

You were there for him two days prior when the boys won Silver for their relay. You felt the disappointment dripping from Johnny’s features when he found out he was mere seconds behind first, just a hand width away, but you are sure this victory makes up for it.

“That’s your boy,” Jaehyun whispers into your ear and a surge of pride rushes through your veins. That is your boy–he is the light of your life, the shining sun in your darkest days, your greatest love, and now your one and only Olympic gold medalist. Your Eagle. Your Big Bird. Your Johnny.

Your ears are attuned to his voice, Johnny’s victorious yells carrying through the noise. You wish you are able to run down to the area but your team was already let out with a warning once. You do not want to take that risk again. Instead, you make your way down to where the interviews are held and park yourself behind where Tiffany Hwang, Team Korea’s swimming correspondent, records her bits. 

As Johnny saunters over to the streaming area, he catches your eye, does a full scan of you draped in his swimming parka, and has the audacity to smirk and send a flirty wink in your direction. Everything romantic between the two of you is so new, meaning four days old, Johnny’s actions leave you weak in the knees. It makes you lose your balance for a second and you are embarrassed at how much your best friend, now boyfriend, can have such an effect on you. You wonder if anything you do would garner the same reaction. So as Johnny steps into position to start his post-swim interview, you start to formulate a little scheme.

“Congratulations on winning gold, John,” Tiffany greets with a bright smile. The reporter has always been pretty and a sight for sore eyes but there is a better view standing just a few meters away. 

Johnny places himself in a way where he can see you in his sightlines. The two of you may not be public yet but he is so close to saying your full name into the microphone when asked who he dedicates his win to. “Thank you, Tiffany.”

“It’s so great to see another Korean-American such as yourself earn a grand title such as Olympic Gold Medalist. How does it feel to finally be a part of that small inspirational group of Asian Americans?”

“Amazing. A dream come true really. I just hope that people who look like me,” he pauses, takes a second, remembering that Tiffany is another Korean-American, “people like us continue to work hard to achieve our goals.”

Tiffany smiles and nods in agreement.

“We didn’t have many prominent Asian or AAPI athletes to look up to growing up. But we’re on the rise. Our time is here and now. Representation matters and I hope my achievement will inspire all the Asian greatness that is to come.” 

Johnny steals a glance at you and finds you with a hand over your heart. “I love you,” you mouth, “I am so proud of you.”

Johnny wants to reply, to declare his love for you to the world, but you are still his little secret. He wants to keep you to himself before the rest of the world makes sense of your relationship. His eyes shine with the brightness of a million stars as he looks at you and he hopes you are able to read every emotion behind them. And you do.

The swimmer forgets the task at hand as he continues to stare into your eyes. You shake your head and gesture back to Tiffany, prompting your boyfriend to turn back to the camera. 

“John?” Tiffany’s voice calls.

“Sorry, yes?”

“That’s alright. Still soaking in your victory?”

Johnny catches your eye again and you laugh. “Something like that, yeah. What were you saying?” 

As Tiffany shoots out another question that goes in one ear and out the other, his gaze remains on you. He sees one of your hands, covered by his oversized sleeve, coming up to cup the side of your face. The expression you wear shifts almost immediately, the innocent and proud grin you wear turning into one that he’s seen behind closed doors. Your lids droop to mirror the eyes of a siren and your lips curve into a smile that drives him wild.

And just when Johnny thinks that is all, your tongue drags along your bottom lip before poking the inside of your cheek. It’s a lewd action to hint what is to come and his mind immediately comes up with a billion scenarios on how it will play out. His pupils dilate, his heart rate increases, and he feels something twitch below his torso. Quickly covering his lower half with the towel he was given, he fixes his stance and gives you a warning stare. The sound of your laughter reaches his ears and flares him up even more. No amount of laps in the cool down pool will help him out of this mess. 

With his gaze zoned in on your lips, Johnny barely recognizes that the word you are mouthing is “focus” before Tiffany calls him back to reality once again. 

“Sorry again,” he apologizes sheepishly.

“No worries. I was just asking how you are going to celebrate.”

Johnny gulps. A celebration is definitely in order. It’s just not one he’d like to reveal to the world at this very moment. “With my team, of course. A couple of beers in our room and games should do.”

“The usual suspects that are in your vlogs, I suppose?”

Johnny shoots her a grin. “How ever did you know?”

“A lucky guess,” she shrugs. Johnny likes how casual Tiffany is. Since she’s followed his career since he first started, interviews with her are like talking to an older sister. She’s on the younger side compared to other correspondents but her youthfulness is what makes her so likable. “Thank you for your time, Johnny, and congratulations again. Take your time to soak in this win–a moment like this is one to be celebrated.”

“No, thank you, Tiffany.” 

The camera turns off and the crew begins to prepare for the next event. Just as Johnny turns to leave, the sportscaster calls him back. 

“Yeah?” he answers.

Tiffany, in her hot pink suit and matching nails, gestures to him to come closer. When he is within reach, her manicured hand cups her mouth and she whispers in his ear, “If you want to keep your relationship hidden for a bit, stop being so obvious, Suh.”

Johnny chokes. “What?”

Tiffany raises her perfectly filled in brows at him. “It’s like you two want to get caught, I’m trying to save you from the publicity, you doof!” She moves to slap him and he winces.

Tiffany also motions to his lower body. “You need to keep it in your pants,” she scoffs with a hint of disgust. 

“It’s her fault,” Johnny whines, bringing the towel closer to conceal his growing problem.

“Fly high, butterfly,” Tiffany mocks, mimicking your voice. “Ugh. You two are hopeless.”

“Jae says the exact same thing,” Johnny retorts.

Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Get outta here, I have interviews to conduct and you have–” her voice trails off, “–celebrations to attend to.” He takes that as his cue to leave. 

Since his event was one of the last of the night, the medal ceremony arrives fairly quickly. And although taking his place on the podium is a moment he’s dreamed about his entire life, Johnny cannot help but think of what is to come after. His heart, mind, and soul are all clouded by thoughts of you. And unfortunately for him, so are other parts of his tall, endowed body.

The minute he’s out of camera focus and back in the ready room, Johnny finds you grinning in the back corner. You are the only thing he sees as he makes his way towards you. His big hands pry his unzipped parka apart and plant themselves at your sides. He gives you a tight squeeze before tugging your body to his front. His ears pick up on the smallest noise that escapes your pretty lips. 

Johnny doesn’t care who else is in the room. He needs to set one thing straight with you. 

“You’re a menace, Flip,” he practically groans into your ear, his head then dropping to your neck in defeat. Johnny’s wet hair drips onto your skin and the dry parka that dwarfs your body but it doesn’t phase you—you’re used to the way water feels.  

You grin back up at him, fingers circling around the cold first place medal around his neck. The featherlight skims sends tingles down his spine and he shivers. Nothing compares to your touch. Nothing will ever compare to you. 

“How so?”

Your coyness riles Johnny up even more. “You know what you did,” he almost whines, voice dipping low.

“What did I do?” Opposite of your lover, your voice raises in pitch. 

“Y/N,” he warns.

“Johnny,” you reply cheekily in the same tone, fluttering your lashes at him. 

Another groan escapes him because now that he has you—now that you are officially his—Johnny will never win. He steals a kiss, one not too long or intense, but just enough to preview what is to come before pulling away. His supple tongue quickly swipes against your pouting lip. “What are you doing to me?” He whispers into your mouth. 

“Well, there are things I want to do. I just can’t do them here.”

A frustrated glare flashes in his eyes and you laugh at the words he is holding back. Johnny’s large hand engulfs yours as he drags you out of the area. “We’re leaving. Now.” Your giggles bounce off the hallways as you rush back to the housing complex. Something tells you it will be a night to remember. 

(Jeno sees the two of you escape and he sighs. He turns to his roommates and the girls who are standing next to him. “Great. We’ve been sexiled.”

“Again?” Sooyoung whines. 

“So…anyone down for getting shit faced tonight so we don’t have to deal with their noises?” Mark proposes.)

COACH’S DEBRIEF. Surprise, I’m back with my favorite Big Bird and tagged everyone that adored him! I haven’t written anything in a while but I’ve hit two huge milestones (graduating and hitting a follower count) that I wanted to celebrate with a lil something. Thank you all for sticking by me. I hope you enjoyed my little return!

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @baekhyuns-lipchain @smileysuh  @hotdogct @donutswithjaminthemiddle @jaehyunnie77  @itsapapisongo  @moonctzeny @weiyiann @justwonus-recs @emmybyeakitty @sakamoto-hey @suhpersonic @dnylwoo @fluffypoodle  @yixing-jaehyun @crescent-iak @iwishiwasthemoontonight @jaehyunfirstlove @nonnnimous @nctsworld @suhreal @justsayk​ @hoshologies​ @moonctzeny @sokkigarden​ @everlovingavenue​ @pak-pak-suhgar​​ @smileyerim​ @suhnnyskiess​ @brightestmark​ @bonnieblue0606​ @amazinggraxia​ @ficrecnctskz​ @lydinews​ @chittaemin​ @ahcaratzen​ @seongfish​ @satansooenthusiast​ @suhlovrreads​ @hyuckworld​ @yougotthatbilly​ @hyperfixationficrecs​​ ​

© sehunniepotwrites, 2021-2023

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

From Away 1

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include noncon or dubcon and other untagged triggers. Mind the warnings.

Summary: you apply for a job with a rather eccentric boss.

Character: Harald Halfdansson

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

Courtesy tag: @alicedopey

For a country built forged in centuries, everything feels so sparkly and new to you. A new home, a new world, at least for a while. It is all so splendid and wonderful. And expensive.

So it is that you head off with a fold in hand and your purse bouncing against your hip. You have a job interview. A very interesting one though the commute promises more than enough time to prepare. Rather, to overthink.

You can’t complain. It sounds like an interesting opportunity. A dream job you couldn’t hope for back home. There weren’t any historical sites that popular to require excessive staff.

You stand at the stop just outside your building. You need to catch a connection at the downtown center and another in an area you’ve never been before. After that, there’s a bit of a walk but you could use a reason to exercise.

The bus pulls up and you smile at the driver as you scan your pass. You find a seat though it isn’t hard. Most are empty this early in the morning. You hug your bag in your lap and watch the streets pass by as the driver chugs along, stopping and starting until your reach the core of the old city.

You nearly miss your transfer and sit breathless on the second bus, measuring your heartbeat until it’s calm again. The close you get, the worse your nerves are. The last interview you had was for this very opportunity. Just to go on exchange, you had to sit in front of a panel and answer questions about why and how and so many things. You can do it, right?

The third bus takes you into the hills, lush green against the grey blue sky, some rocky peaks in the distance. The landscape here is rich and varying. Back home, you can find a similar spectrum of backdrops but the distance in between is vast.

Last stop on the route before it circles around and you get off with a thanks to the driver. You step onto the gravel apron of the back road and check your phone. You don’t have a signal up here but you have the directions saved. Just in case. You follow the steps up towards your destination. It’s not easy to miss as the old fortress stands sentinel at the top of the jutting incline.

Kastali Castle. A bit redundant upon translation; ‘Castle Castle’. In your research, you discovered that the fort was built on a millenial foundation of an old viking village, since updated over the centuries by warlords and kings, and burnt many times over by invaders. You shuffle through the history in your head, trying to sort the timeline as you approach the low stone barrier along the lower tier of the property.

The gate is open. On the other side, sheep graze lazily across the grass. You’ve learned since your arrival that the creatures have free reign of the countryside. They may eat and wander where they might. You stop to fawn at a younger lamb. The animals can be a bit ornery but they’re cute.

You turn back, looking up at the high foundations and carry on along the steep path. As you get to the large wooden door that would let you through the tall inner walls, you hesitate. You can’t just let yourself in but you don’t know where to go. You check your phone, thinking to call the number in the email but your bars are still empty.

“Invaders, ho!” A holler breaks the earthly hue and you step back to look up at where the voice erupted from. There’s a figure above you, so high you have to crane your neck painfully. You continue to back up until you can see the man above. “Are you lost, fair maiden? Or do you come upon a quest?”

You blink, nearly giggling at his flowery way of speaking. His accent lilts his words peculiarly.

“Um, I have an interview,” you yell back up, the effort making your throat thrum. You’re not much for raising your voice. “With, er,” you look down at your phone. You hadn’t saved the email.

“Harald,” he calls back down, “yes, he is expecting you.”

The man disappears and you stare up into the sky after him. You can hear creaking and cracking then silence. You lower your head and look straight ahead, waiting. The arched door opens with a long whine and the same man appears before you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he gives a crooked grin. His weathered skin is marked with blue black ink along one side of his face. A nordic symbol you can’t decipher.

“It is I, Harald,” he offers his hand, “the keeper of Kastali.”

“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name in return.

“Lovely name, lovely,” he squeezes before he lets you go, “and a curious accent I here. American? No, no, speak for me again.”

You blink at him dumbly, “um, okay, I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“Irish,” he jabs his finger into the air. “I hear the twang.”

“No, sir,” you laugh, “Canadian.”

“Ah, the great north,” he booms, “yes, I see. Forgive my assumptions.”

“It’s okay,” you grip your bag and shift your weight nervously. “Thank you for the interview, sir, this place is really cool.”

“Interview?” He squints, “is that what I said? No, no, you’re hired.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for an interview,” he shakes his head, “I need help. Forthwith.”

“Oh, right, maybe I misread--”

“Let’s forget that, unless...” his brows rise and his forehead lines, “you do not want the job?”

“No, no, I do,” you assure him, “I just wasn’t expecting to start today.”

“Yes, you are not dressed well for chasing away Gustav.”

“Gustav?” You echo.

“You will know him. He is a dark cloud on this place. If you do run into him, well, run in the other direction,” he girds, “well then,” he moves to stand with his back to the door, holding it open, “let’s begin with the tour, the we will worry about all else.”

“Oh, sure, um, right. Cool,” you pass through the door and he eases the door shut behind him. As the old brass latch clanks, you wince.

“Wow,” you look around at the interior walls, “it’s so big. It must be a lot of work. How many people work here?”

He laughs heartily and claps his hand on his chest, “just me. Well, you too, now.”

“Just you?” You gape over at him. It’s only then your notice that his hair is much longer than you thought. It hangs, bounded in golden hoops, down his back, much like an ancient warrior fashion.

“The king of my own castle,” he winks over at you, “let’s not waste any more time. We have much to do.”

[talonabraxas]

“You attract and manifest whatever corresponds to your inner state.” - Eckhart Tolle Hyperspace – A Scientific Odyssey

A look at the higher dimensions Do higher dimensions exist? Are there unseen worlds just beyond our reach, beyond the normal laws of physics? Although higher dimensions have historically been the exclusive realm of charlatans, mystics, and science fiction writers, many serious theoretical physicists now believe that higher dimensions not only exist, but may also explain some of the deepest secrets of nature. Although we stress that there is at present no experimental evidence for higher dimensions, in principle they may solve the ultimate problem in physics: the final unification of all physical knowledge at the fundamental level.

My own fascination with higher dimensions began early in childhood. One of my happiest childhood memories was crouching next to the pond at the famed Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco, mesmerized by the brilliantly colored carp swimming slowly beneath the water lilies. In these quiet moments, I would ask myself a silly question that a only child might ask: how would the carp in that pond view the world around them? Spending their entire lives at the bottom of the pond, the carp would believe that their “universe” consisted of the water and the lilies; they would only be dimly aware that an alien world could exist just above the surface. My world was beyond their comprehension. I was intrigued that I could sit only a few inches from the carp, yet we were separated by an immense chasm. I concluded that if there were any “scientists” among the carp, they would scoff at any fish who proposed that a parallel world could exist just above the lilies. An unseen world beyond the pond made no scientific sense. Once I imagined what would happen if I reached down and suddenly grabbed one of the carp “scientists” out of the pond. I wondered, how would this appear to the carp? The startled carp “scientist” would tell a truly amazing story, being somehow lifted out of the universe (the pond) and hurled into a mysterious nether world, another dimension with blinding lights and strange-shaped objects that no carp had ever seen before. The strangest of all was the massive creature responsible for this outrage, who did not resemble a fish in the slightest. Shockingly, it had no fins whatsoever, but nevertheless could move without them. Obviously, the familiar laws of physics no longer applied in this nether world!

Meeting a Higher Dimensional Being To understand some of the mind-bending features of higher dimensions, imagine a two-dimensional world, called Flat land (after Edwin A. Abbott’s celebrated novel) that resembles a world existing on a flat table-top. If one of the Flatlanders becomes lost, we can quickly scan all of Flatland, peering directly inside houses, buildings, and even concealed places. If one of the Flatlanders becomes sick, we can reach directly into their insides and per form surgery, without ever cutting their skin. If one of the Flatlanders is incarcerated in jail (which is a circle enclosing the Flatlander) we can simply peel the person off from Flatland into the third dimension and place the Flatlander back somewhere else. If we become more ambitious and stick our fingers and arms through Flatland, the Flatlanders would only see circles of flesh that hover around them, constantly changing shape and merging into other circles. And lastly, if we fling a Flatlander into our three dimensional world, the Flatlander can only see two dimensional cross sections of our world, i.e. a phantasmagoria of circles, squares, etc. which constantly change shape and merge (see fig. 1 and 2). Now imagine that we are “three dimensional Flatlanders” being visited by a higher dimensional being. If we became lost, a higher dimensional being could scan our entire universe all at once, peering directly into the most tightly sealed hiding places. If we became sick, a higher dimensional being could reach into our insides and perform surgery without ever cutting our skin. If we were in a maximum-security, escape-proof jail, a higher dimensional being could simply “yank” us into a higher dimension and redeposit us back somewhere else. If higher dimensional beings stick their “fingers” into our universe, they would appear to us to be blobs of flesh which float above us and constantly merge and split apart. And lastly, if we are flung into hyperspace, we would see a collection of spheres, blobs, and polyhedra which suddenly appear, constantly change shape and color, and then mysteriously disappear. Higher dimensional people, therefore, would have powers similar to a god: they could walk through walls, disappear and reappear at will, reach into the strongest steel vaults, and see through buildings. They would be omniscient and omnipotent. Not surprisingly, speculation about higher dimensions has sparked enormous literary and artistic interest over the last hundred years.

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x09 - Clash! The Freezing Digimon / Subzero Ice Punch

Previously on Digimon Adventure: Devimon proved himself to be a remarkably talented centrist, working between the aisles to bring both parties together for a single goal. What goal? Doesn't matter. What matters is that he achieved unity, and isn't that what's really important here?

With File Island broken up, things seem awfully dire for our kids.

We open on Devimon's home gradually descending from dark clouds onto the top of Infinity Mountain. Surprisingly Greco-Roman in architecture, but this is Digimon World. Dub Tai calls this his "castle" but it lacks the defining qualities of a castle. It's more of a megaron or possibly a temple.

But Taichi has bigger things to worry about right now than a lesson in historical architecture.

Inside, Devimon announces his intentions to the audience: The Chosen Children are still alive, but they're isolated. He'll be able to pick them off while they're stranded out there. Devimon conjures up more Black Gears, sending them off into the scattered fragments of the island.

He's stranded on a frozen shard of what used to be File Island and will shortly die of hypothermia. Dub Tai comically exclaims, "Okay, so Mom was right; I should have worn a sweater!" which doesn't make much sense contextually. They can't all be winners.

By pure coincidence, all of his clothes happen to be on this shard, which he finds immediately. This is a bit of a plot contrivance, but one I'm sure we will all accept without question because it means Taichi doesn't have to spend the rest of this arc in his underwear.

His clothes are frozen solid, but Agumon thaws them out with a couple precision shots of Baby Flame. His shirt comes out great, but Agumon gets overzealous with the shorts and singes them.

Standing in front of another Digimon World anomaly, a long line of post boxes, Taichi takes out his telescope and scouts the surrounding area. While he scouts, he takes a moment to chat with Agumon and reflect on how bad this situation is.

Taichi: (examining Infinity Mountain) We're getting steadily farther from Infinity Mountain. I wonder what happened to Leomon? ...oh, and everyone else. (scans other island fragments) Everyone else is gone; We've all been separated. Agumon: Hey, Taichi? Where do you think we're headed? Taichi: How should I know? Agumon: (nervously) I don't know anything outside of File Island. Taichi: What about the other side of the ocean, that Devimon was talking about? Agumon: I know nothing about it. Taichi: (gazing across the ocean) The world on the other side....

This is the worst it's ever been. The kids are alone and crossing the ocean in every direction as Devimon's planned invasion of the rest of the world gets underway.

Taichi doesn't mention the post boxes. But in the dub, Tai's pretty interested in them.

Tai: What? Mailboxes? Agumon, maybe people really lived here at one time! I wish we could mail ourselves home... (examining Infinity Mountain) ...but it looks like the only way we'll ever leave Freeze Land is to take a real long, cold swim back to Infinity Mountain!And I have a feeling that... (scans other island fragments) ...if the mountain is drifting farther and farther away, then our friends are too! They must all be out there on those other islands! Agumon: Where will we end up if we just keep on drifting around like this, Tai? Tai: Why would I know that? Agumon: Because you're from another world, Tai; I've never left File Island! Tai: But Agumon, I've never left my world either! Agumon: Well, I guess it could be worse. There could be evil Digimon attacking us; It's too quiet here!

Dub Tai never mentions Leomon and is instead more concerned with the fate of his friends. Which. Y'know what? Fair. He met that guy this afternoon. He's known the others for at least five days!

But there's also a tone difference in how they talk about their separation; Taichi describes it passively, while Tai sounds determined and motivated to find them.

The dub also snips all the conversation about the other side of the world. They keep in Agumon's trepidation surrounding leaving File Island but snip out the talk of their destination.

All of this serves to distract from the important context of this dialogue: Tai's worried about his friends but more interested in seeing the other side of the ocean. This is vital context for what will become the plot of this episode.

Suddenly, Dub Agumon's tempting of fate conjures a new menace to the both of them.

Yukidarumon bursts out of the ground, roaring his own name like a Pokemon. Identifying him as an Adult-stage Vaccine-type Digimon, the narrator gives us his rundown.

Narrator: Yukidarumon. A freezing Digimon made up of icy snow. His special attack, Zettai Reido Punch, can freeze anything!

His name is derived from "yukidaruma", the Japanese term for "snowman". Meanwhile, "Zettai Reido" is the Japanese term for Absolute Zero, the theoretical coldest possible temperature. So that's an intimidating attack name.

The dub calls him Frigimon, based off the word "frigid", and has Agumon take over his rundown.

Agumon: Frigimon is a food-friendly snowman. But don't worry, Tai; He's a good Digimon!

What the hell does "food-friendly" mean? Weird. Though I appreciate the dub this time getting in on the "He's a good Digimon OH GOD HE'S ATTACKING" bit this time around.

Yukidarumon hurls a giant snowball at the boys, forcing them to slide down the ledge they were scouting from. As they slide, Agumon exclaims in confusion that Frigimon's a peaceful Digimon; He doesn't know why this is happening! The dub cuts that line because they already took care of that bit in the rundown.

As they slide past Yukidarumon, the problem quickly comes into view.

Yeah, that makes sense.

Yukidarumon turns on them, throwing his Zettai Reido Punch. The dub calls it Subzero Ice Punch, which is slightly underselling the coldness but nonetheless works. The boys dodge, causing his attack to hit one of the post boxes and demonstrating its power.

Let's not get punched by that.

Confidently insisting on taking care of this problem, Agumon lets out a Baby Flame. Yukidarumon blocks it easily.

(I don't know what he expected to happen there. Got a little cocky, Agumon.)

Plan B: The boys run for their lives and try to avoid being punched. Taichi asks Agumon to evolve, but as with last episode, Agumon's still tired and starving. He doesn't have the energy for evolution.

(At least he was able to put out a Baby Flame. The last one he tried petered out.)

Typical of corrupted Digimon, Yukidarumon's dialogue isn't sensible. All he says is his name. "Yukidarumon!" as he attacks. "Yukidarumon!" as he blocks Agumon's Baby Flame. Chanting "Yuki Yuki Yuki" as he chases them.

Yukidarumon corners Taichi and Agumon against a wall. At that point, they have no choice but to fight. Agumon has a plan: He wants Taichi to throw him so that he lands on Yukidarumon's back. Then he can destroy the Black Gear with a point-blank Baby Flame. Problem is, he's too heavy to lift.

Surprisingly, it goes pretty well, as Taichi and Agumon end up sliding between Yukidarumon's legs and avoid another icy fate. Yukidarumon's fist slams into the ice wall that had been behind them, burying himself in an avalanche.

While they have a moment to breathe, Taichi modifies the plan. He instructs Agumon to curl into a ball. Once Yukidarumon emerges from the snow, Taichi declares, "I'll show you the miracle kick of an ace striker!!!" and shoots.

Perfect shot. Agumon flies over Yukidarumon's head and manages to come down on his back. Just as planned, he vaporizes the Black Gear with his Baby Flame and frees the Digimon from its corruption.

With Yukidarumon released, he sits up and reveals his much more polite persona.

Yukidarumon: Huh? Why was I acting so violent? Agumon: Devimon was controlling you with his Black Gear. Yukidarumon: And you got rid of it for me? (bows) Thank you. You're not hurt, are you? Taichi: We're fine. We don't have a scratch on us.

The dialogue in the dub is mostly the same, but... uh... Except for this one thing....

Frigimon: Ugh, what am I doing laying here? What happened? Agumon: A Black Gear was on you and you almost turned us into ice sculptures! Frigimon: Oh, I'm so sorry! I just hate when I do that! But... (bows) Thank you for destroying the Gear. I'm glad you're both alright.

Hey. Uh. Hey, localization team? What the fuck is "I hate when I do that" supposed to mean? XD Apparently, murdering travelers with Subzero Ice Punch by mistake is a regular occurrence for Frigimon. We may need to review his Vaccine-type certification.

Moving along, the good news is that Yukidarumon saw another one of the kids land nearby. A boy with a Gabumon. The bad news is that he landed over there.

Ehh, we can walk, it's no biggie!

That is, in fact, how we get over there. As thanks for saving him from the Black Gear, Yukidarumon offers to use his Zettai Reido Punch to freeze the surface of the ocean as they walk, forming a path they can cross to get to the other island.

Meanwhile, on the other island, Yamato's not doing so well. His island's caught up in a blizzard, but he's exposing himself to the elements in desperation. Freezing cold, weak, and coughing, Yamato has only one thing on his mind.

He keeps going until his legs give out and he tumbles into the snow. Gabumon pleads with him to find shelter and points out a nearby cave. Yamato springs to his feet and races to it, screaming Takeru's name as he enters with hope in his heart. But the cave is empty.

Gabumon makes a small campfire using some kindling and his Petit Fire, and urges Yamato to stay here and get warm. He's already starting to come down with a cold. But Yamato insists that he's fine and wants to go back out to look for Takeru.

As a compromise, Gabumon volunteers to go look for Takeru in his place, explaining that his fur coat can insulate him from the cold. Yamato relents and stays behind, staring silently into the flames. But after several seconds, his anxiety gets the better of him; Shrieking Takeru's name, he abandons the fire and goes back outside.

The dub adds a bit of internal monologue to break up the long span of silence.

Matt (V.O.): Poor little T.K. It's just not right! He's my little brother. I should be the one out there looking for him!

Meanwhile, we check back in with Taichi, Agumon, and Yukidarumon. It's still a long way to Yamato's island, and the boys are getting tired. Taichi and Agumon want to stop for a break, but Yukidarumon points out how counterproductive that would be: The island's moving, so it will get farther and farther away the longer they linger.

Taichi laments that Agumon can't fly, with Tai in the dub directly comparing him to Birdramon. Agumon takes offense to that, forcing him to backpedal in the original.

Taichi: It's just a joke! Don't succumb to an inferiority complex. Agumon: I don't have an inferiority complex!

While in the dub, he tries to puff up Agumon to make him feel better.

Tai: Birdramon probably can't fly in the cold anyway. No one toasts my clothes like you! Come on, laugh! Agumon: No way!

They both try and fail, but American Tai makes the better attempt. Nobody has ever been made to feel better by being told they're having a complex or episode or what have you.

Yukidarumon has a solution for this whole thing. Picking up Taichi and Agumon, he rests them on his shoulders and gives them a ride for the rest of the ice march.

(Uh, be careful with that, American guys; Sometimes Frigimon murders people by accident.)

Yukidarumon walks in silence, but Frigimon has an anecdote for the boys. "Did I ever tell you about the party I went to that the Numemon crashed?" he starts as we shift focus back to Gabumon.

Back on Yamato's island, Gabumon laments his inability to find Takeru. But as he heads back to the cave, he comes upon exactly what he didn't want to find out here. Yamato unconscious and half-buried in the snow.

Gabumon brings Yamato back inside the cave and sets him up on a bed of leaves, but it's not enough. Though he's reluctant, Gabumon recognizes that extreme circumstances call for extreme measures and takes off his fur pelt, giving it to Yamato to keep him warm before curling up with him to share body heat.

Then Gabumon lays down to rest beside Yamato and we zoom out, lingering for a moment on a shadowy Digimon watching the cave from outside.

By the time Taichi's group finally arrives on Yamato's island, the sun's already come up. The boys seem to have gotten some cold but otherwise fairly restful sleep, riding on Yukidarumon's shoulders.

(Dawn of the Sixth Day)

In the dub, Frigimon is still telling the Numemon story.

Frigimon: This one Numemon kept following my sister but I handled it. A little Subzero Ice Punch show and tell! Hey, you two, wake up! We're here!

I'm not sure how much sleeping they got to do given that he's apparently been telling this story all night. He does tell them to wake up, but the shot of the boys yawning and stretching is reframed to them shouting "HOORAY!"

Yukidarumon directs them to the forest in the center of the island, which is where he thinks he saw Yamato and Gabumon land. It doesn't take them long to find Yamato's discarded bed.

Taichi and Agumon set to work, calling out for Yamato and Gabumon.

Meanwhile, back in the cave, Yamato finally wakes up. As soon as he stirs, Gabumon takes his fur coat back and flees around a corner, putting it back on as quick as he can. Recognizing what Gabumon did for him and that Gabumon caught his cold doing it, Yamato expresses his sincere gratitude.

He's so grateful that the art bugs out and accidentally gives him a thousand-yard-stare during his bow.

Those were not the correct eyes for this moment. XD That expression is not, "Thank you for saving my life." That expression is "Yamato has seen what must not be seen and he will never be the same again."

Clearly, Gabumon was not fast enough in retrieving his fur coat.

Suddenly, they hear Taichi calling their names and race out into the daylight.

Taichi explains that he found Yamato thanks to guidance from Yukidarumon. Yamato asks if Yukidarumon saw anyone else, but he insists that Taichi and Yamato were the only ones who fell on these islands. He speculates that their friends would have landed on other islands.

Gabumon sneezes, revealing his cold to the new arrivals. This gives Yukidarumon an idea, and he stomps off without explaining himself.

It takes these boys no time at all to start bickering again.

Gabumon: (sneezes) Taichi: (playfully) Oh, so even Digimon can catch colds! Yamato: (grabs Taichi by the arm) Stop making fun of him! Gabumon was-- Taichi: Oh come on, I was joking! Why are you getting all worked up!?

This harkens back to Taichi threatening to steal Gabumon's fur way back in the Seadramon episode. Taichi's a jerk to Gabumon sometimes.

Though the dub takes his side over Yamato's.

Gabumon: (sneezes) Tai: How'd you get sick? You're the one with the fur around here! Matt: Stop making fun of him! Leave him alone, Tai! Tai: Hey, why don't you chill out, Matt!? I was only trying to see how we could help him!

Instead of Tai acknowledging that he's being a dick here, the scene is painted to make Matt look like the unreasonable one. Tai's trying to check up on Gabumon's condition and Matt flies off the handle for no reason.

Agumon takes Gabumon into the cave to rest while Taichi and Yamato discuss next steps.

Taichi: Now then, what should we do? Yamato: Isn't it obvious? We're going to look for the others. Taichi: Okay but how are we going to look for them? I'm sure everyone's separated and they're all on different islands now. How can we look if we can't fly? Yamato: I'll swim if I have to! Taichi: You idiot, this place is like the North Pole. We'll die of heart failure within a minute. Yamato: Then I'll build a raft from the trees, okay!? Taichi: Yamato, calm down. Everyone is fine! I'm sure everybody's getting along fine even though we're separated. More importantly, aren't you concerned with where this island is heading? Yamato: "More importantly"? Taichi: I think it's heading to the other side of the world, just like Devimon said. Yamato: What do you mean, "more importantly"!?!? (shoves Taichi) Is there anything more important than looking for the others!? What's all this talk about "the other side of the world"!? You can go there yourself; I'm going to save Takeru! And the others!

Taichi's curiosity about the other side of the world crops up here again, in the worst possible way. He slips up, revealing priorities that Yamato violently disagrees with. No sooner are they reunited than the boys are fractured once more, as Yamato bails on Taichi to go figure out a plan for himself.

The dub translates all of this almost completely faithfully, with only one significant difference: The part about Yamato wanting to swim and Taichi pointing out they'll freeze to death is removed and replaced with a different option.

Matt: So I guess we'll ask Frigimon for help. Tai: Weren't you listening to me!? He said they're scattered all over the place. He only has two arms; He's not an octopus!

The delivery here's a bit off. Matt's line is delivered in a sarcastic tone, with a jealous sneer as he says Frigimon's name. He says this like he's being passive-aggressive about Tai's new bestie. But from the context of the conversation, he's clearly supposed to be proposing this idea sincerely; Yamato/Matt's desperately grasping at straws to find any possible way to reach the other islands.

Additionally, when Tai blows off the wellbeing of the others with his whole "Ehh they're probably fine it's fine" bit, his dialogue is written to be more sympathetic.

Tai: Matt, calm down! Wow, what's eating you, dude? I'm on your side; I'll help you get off this island if we have to build surfboards, okay? Look, the others will be fine without us for now; We gotta focus on the real deal.

The core sentiment, that Taichi is more interested in riding this island to its destination than in going to look for the others, still gets expressed. But his flippant dismissal of them is replaced by an expression of concern and solidarity for Matt.

This tonal difference in their argument continues into the next scene.

Putting those soccer legs to work, Taichi runs Yamato down and tackles him into the snow.

Taichi: If we go to the other side of the world, we might find a way to see the others again! I understand how you're feeling but-- Yamato: Like hell you understand how I'm feeling! (punches Tai in the face, knocking him off) Your insensitivity is pissing me off! Taichi: What did you say!?

Tensions explode from there as the boys' argument devolves into a full-blown bare-knuckle brawl. The dub censors out multiple shots of Taichi and Yamato punching each other in the face.

Dialogue-wise, the dub version is basically the same, but Tai gets to talk more which weakens Matt's side of the argument.

Tai: Nobody runs away when I'm still talking; Now listen! Maybe there's something across the ocean to help us find the others! Why do you have to get so bent out of shape!? I know how you feel, Matt. Matt: (punches Tai in the face, knocking him off) You haven't got a clue how I feel, Tai; You're acting like such a jerk! Tai: Who are you calling a jerk, jerk!?

It's a bit more unfocused, again pulling the attention away from Tai's insensitivity, as Yamato put it, to instead focus on Tai and Matt here in the moment.

Watching their fight in the original Japanese, Taichi comes across like a complete asshole in this argument. Yamato may be a little too gung-ho about finding everyone; He almost died last night because of it. But it's super easy to take his side over Taichi, who's ready to abandon the rest of the group to their fates in order to satisfy his curiosity.

But in the English version, it's Matt who comes off like a total dick. Tai's the one who now seems like he's grasping for ideas to solve this problem, with "the other side of the world" being more sincerely expressed as an idea to save their friends. Meanwhile, Matt comes across like he's just freaking out, too overcome by his anxieties to think straight for five minutes and see Tai's point of view.

Either way, it all comes to a head when their fight nearly takes them off a cliff, and Yamato opens up.

Once Taichi sees this, he understands and relents. The fights ends on a softer note, as Yamato expresses his feelings about Takeru. Feelings that are slightly different between versions.

Yamato: Takeru... he can't do anything on his own!

Again, this harkens back to the Seadramon episode. Remember that moment with the cooked fish, when Yamato wanted to de-bone it for Takeru but then Taichi taught him how to eat it instead? This is part of Yamato and Takeru's arc through the series.

In the dub, we get:

Matt: It's T.K. He's out there on some strange island and he's all alone!

We get Matt's concern for T.K., the love and terror that's driving this moment, but we don't get the signaling to Yamato's chief character flaw with regard to his relationship with Takeru. It's a purely sympathetic moment, missing that little nugget of poison buried in the original.

And then the ledge gives out and they go off the cliff anyway.

Taichi catches Yamato and hangs on to a branch, swearing to hang on.

Taichi: I won't let go, even if we both end up dying!

That's a little dark for the dub, so they go with:

Tai: Whatever you do, just don't let go of my hand!

Notably, Matt can't let go; Tai's holding him by the back of his wrist. Yamato has no control over this situation.

Agumon and Gabumon climb down to try and help, but there's little they can do. They're both still hungry. Fortunately, backup arrives to make things much worse.

Oh good, it's that guy that was watching the cave earlier. He's an Adult-stage Vaccine-type Digimon. The narrator gives us his rundown.

Narrator: Mojamon. He's an elusive rare animal Digimon said to live deep in the snowy mountains. Normally, he has a quiet personality and does not pick fights.

For the diegetic rundown, Agumon skips the part about Mojamon's elusive nature and goes straight to the Good Digimon gag.

Agumon: Mojamon is a peaceful mountain Digimon that doesn't like fighting! Gabumon: You'd better tell him that! He doesn't look very peaceful right now!

Seizing a perfect opportunity to kill the children, Mojamon strikes with his Icicle Rod, destroying the ledge and sending them all tumbling to their intended deaths.

The dub calls this Ice Cloud, presumably to pull attention away from the gigantic icicle spear he uses for it.

By purest of luck, the kids land directly on top of Yukidarumon, breaking their fall on his big floofy snow body. He's on his way back from foraging for food as well as herbs for Gabumon's cold.

In the dub, Frigimon quips, "It's raining kids and Digimon again; I'm going to have to start carrying an umbrella." XD That's a good one.

(If he had a nickel for every time children plunged from the sky these last couple days, he'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

Gabumon eats the herbs while Agumon finally satisfies his hunger. But the fight isn't over yet; Mojamon descends the cliff to finish the job. While the kids run for cover, Yukidarumon steps up to fight Mojamon.

He tries his best, and briefly knocks Mojamon back into the cliffside hard enough to expose the Black Gears moving the island.

But Mojamon quickly overpowers him nonetheless, slamming him into the ground in front of the kids with a shoulder throw. Mojamon then reveals his other signature move, Hone Hone Boomerang; "Hone" being the Japanese word for "Bone", as previously seen in Ogremon's Hone Konbou. It's a curved bone that he throws in a curved arc, returning to his hand.

The dub calls it "Boomerang Bone", which flows better in English than Bone Bone Boomerang.

The kids and Yukidarumon narrowly avoid the boomerang, and then it's Agumon and Gabumon's turns. Finally getting their strength back up, they evolve to Greymon and Garurumon, the latter of whom shows Mojamon exactly what he thinks of Hone Hone Boomerang.

With Mojamon disarmed, Greymon lets off a Mega Flame. But Mojamon's too nimble to hit; He dodges the blast and kicks Greymon in the face, knocking him to the ground.

Creeping up behind Mojamon, Yukidarumon has a solution for this problem.

The full nelson. If it's good enough for Raditz, it's good enough for Mojamon. Yukidarumon holds him in place while Greymon lets off another Mega Flame, nailing the Black Gear and sending them both hurtling back into the wall. The impact exposes even more of the Black Gears responsible for the island shard's motion.

Garurumon lets off a Fox Fire to take care of those too.

No longer corrupted by the Black Gear, Mojamon shrinks down to about half his previous size. The Digimon explain the situation to him, while Taichi and Yamato revisit their argument.

Yamato still wants to go out and find Takeru, but before they can talk about it, the damaged Black Gears suddenly throw into reverse. Their island piece begins moving back towards Infinity Mountain, returning them to Devimon.

Recognizing that they have bigger problems right now then their previous difference of opinion, Taichi and Yamato agree to focus on this. Taichi offers Yamato some reassurance of his main concern.

Taichi: I'm sure Takeru is doing his best. Yamato: Yeah. He is my little brother after all.

While in the dub, the boys ignore T.K. and instead just agree that they're very cool.

Tai: Hahaha! No stinkin' Gears are gonna stop us! Matt: Yeah! Together, we're gonna be allllright!

Glad to see you boys are gung-ho about this.

Then we close on the boys waiting at the shore with their Partners, as well as Yukidarumon and Mojamon. Waiting in silence for their island shard to return to Infinity Mountain, and for the battle ahead.

As it often does, the dub fills this space with dialogue.

Matt (V.O.): And now I know my little brother will be alright because he has Patamon to take care of him when I can't be there. And I think, as long as we can all trust each other, together it's a sure bet that we'll be able to fight and beat Devimon!

...he says "I know T.K. will be fine because he has Patamon" like that's a valuable lesson he learned over the course of this episode? But. Like. The only place he could possibly have learned that was when Gabumon took care of him, and that was before the big fight with Tai.

Probably should have just stuck with "He'll be fine because he's my brother," which isn't so much a lesson learned as it is Yamato trying to reassure himself because he has no other options.

Assessment: Yeah, like the Meramon episode, this is another one that the dub butchers. They screw up the core argument between Tai and Matt which serves as the episode's emotional core. Taichi wants to see what lies beyond the ocean and Yamato wants to go save their friends.

Taichi's kind of a dick in this one, but that's okay. He's a flawed character. They're all flawed characters. Taichi's defining characteristic is his courage; He takes bold action and assumes everything will work out for the best. In this bitter fight with Yamato, we see the dark side of those assumptions.

But we also see the dark side of Yamato's overprotectiveness towards Takeru and to an extent the rest of the group. The way he nearly kills himself because he can't bring himself to just be still even when he's dying of hypothermia. Not if Takeru's in danger. Yamato is the kind of person that those airplane "Put your own mask on and then help your child with theirs" notifications are for.

We get that in this episode for Matt. We see plenty of Matt's rough edges on display here. But the dub of this episode sands off a lot of Tai's, resulting in an asymmetrical conflict that leaves Matt looking bad - sympathetically so, but still the sole aggressor - and Tai looking good.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 8

Dew stages an ambitious plan to save Rain from the hangman.

Y'all we're finally at the scene I wrote this fic for! Sorry for the delay, this one kicked my ass writing it lol but hopefully the slight increase in length makes up for it.

Old-timey language and info is from this description of this story's historical premise, as well as various tiktoks on the subject and some fictional embellishments. And yes I've used a 5e movement guide to estimate some timings and distances.

Rating: M Content: previous injury, trauma-induced-catatonia Words: 6277

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Hello tag alert-ees! @revengeghoulette @everybodyshusband @rainsbasspick sorry to keep you waiting so long!!

Read below, or on AO3!

Dew hurtled along the main street in town towards the huge crowd gathered in the central plaza. He hoped, prayed, begged that after everything he wouldn’t be too late. If they followed his advice, Mountain, Aether and Swiss would be long gone, so he simply had to reach Rain. In the square in the distance, he could just about make out several figures stood on the scaffold of a single gallows. As he got closer it became clear that the tall, yet hunched over, figure was Rain.

The crowd hurriedly parted for Dew as he pushed the horse as hard as she could gallop, some yelling abuse at him as they leapt away from his reckless riding. Skidding to a stop at the foot of the gallows and Judge’s podium he yelled out,

“Wait!”

A rumble of discontent began to ripple through the assembled townsfolk. The Judge peered imperiously down at Dew.

“Can I help you?” he sniffed. “As you can see, I'm rather busy.” This got a sycophantic titter from the acolytes surrounding him. Dew bit back his snarky reply and spoke as clearly and calmly as his shaking body would let him.

“If you will hear me out Sir, I have a petition for Rain's pardon and release.”

The Judge snorted.

“Rain is a criminal, and a murderer at that. A dozen witnesses here will confirm that he summoned his demonic powers with the intent to kill several innocent bystanders!”

Dew couldn't very well argue with the outcome of Rain’s actions, but he did dispute the whole wilfully murdering people part.

“Why should we listen to him, he's one of those monsters too!” another man interrupted. “Hang the demons!” Dew thought he could be one of the town officials. He held his hands out in front of him in what he hoped was a placating manner and tried to dodge the question.

“I assure you, none of this was my doing.” He chose not to acknowledge how he had riled Rain up that morning, challenging him and his abilities and likely pushing him over the edge. “And besides,” he forced what he hoped was a winning smile, “didn't I keep your fires lit during the storms last January?"

The Judge harrumphed reluctantly. Dew continued, laying it on thick,

“Rain here very clearly committed the acts you describe, but I assure you they were an accident. He is still young, and had any of us known of the danger he could pose to our community we would never have let him leave the farm!”

“On what grounds would you have him pardoned then? Simple carelessness is no excuse for murder.”

Dew fished in the top of his bag for the sheaf of parchment he had stored there in preparation. Reading aloud, he projected his voice as best he could,

“By the laws of our blessed land, the life of a criminal condemned to death may be spared, whensoever a person, being of reputable character and sound mind, thereupon consents to marry the aforesaid criminal.”

The Judge stared at him for a long moment, processing what Dew had just said. Finally, he thrust a hand in Dew’s direction, beckoning him to hand over the parchment. Dew was glad he had several backup copies.

“Give me that!” He huffed, scanning over the words. His eyes flickered as he read it, then re-read it, before shoving it under the nose of the advisor who had interrupted before. After some concerned muttering passed between the two, the Judge called for a servant.

“Boy! Go fetch the legal ledger, I want to check this.”

The young man scurried off, into the town hall behind them. If Dew hadn’t still been mounted on the horse, he would have been nervously shuffling his feet. As it was, he felt her anxiously twitching beneath him as he practically vibrated in the saddle.

“So, if this is true, you believe you are of reputable character?”

“I do, Sir.” Dew nodded his head in a show of humility he did not feel. “I believe we established that I have protected many people from this town during the winter months, for several years.”

“I see.”

Dew knew this was the part where his plan could all fall apart. Of those assembled who were from the village, most knew of him and his pack, and had likely received some form of aid from the ghouls over the years either directly or indirectly. As they continued to wait, Dew could feel the crowd growing uneasy as the talk of what he was proposing spread through them like fire spreading through cottonwood fluff. He was sure that while some of those assembled would attribute their recent years of health, prosperity and luck to the ghouls, others still would believe that the noose was too good for Rain and that he and the other ghouls should burn for their witchcraft.

Eventually, the Judge’s assistant returned carrying a large, leather-bound book. He continued to hold it in front of the man, staggering under its weight as he held it open for the man to flick through the fragile pages. A plume of dust rose into the air. Dew was grateful the ghoulettes had thought to leave a page reference on their transcript.

There was a tense pause as the Judge read the relevant page in silence. The crowd nearby waited with baited breath for his response, while those further back and still unaware of the reason for the holdup were becoming increasingly uneasy.

With a conflicted look on his face, the Judge addressed the nervous ghoul in front of him,

“You are correct, this is indeed a law.” The men behind him whispered to each other. He was sure they were debating the tide of opinion in the crowd, and what outcome would spare them the least outrage. As Dew had said: it was common knowledge that many of their elderly would not have made it through the bitter chill of the previous winter without his mysterious help. For years now, many of the village had acknowledged that by accepting the help of the ghouls they were signing an unwritten contract to protect them by turning a blind eye to their less-than-human nature. Those same people now clamoured for the Judge to accept the law and let Dew leave with Rain, lest a curse befall them for their betrayal. Still, other dissenting voices cried for him to hang all of the demons and rid the town of their presence forever. Yet more simply called for them to leave the town, and never return.

Having gone to the trouble to prove the law was indeed real, and given that he had just accepted that Dew had been a true and longstanding asset to their community during the winter – indeed his own mother had been aided by the fire ghoul – the Judge could not easily back down. He looked imperiously down at Dew, as though considering his options.

“And what do you plan to do with your life, criminal spouse secured?”

Dew answered as truthfully as he could,

“We will travel many miles away, back to my family and a dwelling of my people.” He had realised on his trip back that he did consider the ghoulettes and Copia the closest thing he had to a real family, outside of his current pack. They were certainly the first to treat him as though he was family, coming back to them like he did as the prodigal son returned. Dew also hoped the Judge would see his obvious subtext: they would leave the town and return to a far-flung settlement of their own kind, somewhere where humans would be safe from them. He tried begging,

“Please, Your Honour. I wish I could make amends for Rain’s actions, but I cannot. After all myself and my friends have done for you during our time here, I beseech you to let us leave quietly. I can guarantee you will never see or hear of us ever again.”

In the depths of the crowd, Aether, Swiss and Mountain looked at each other with various forms of shock painted on their faces.

“Dew came back?” hissed Swiss, “How didn’t I see him coming?”

“More importantly,” Aether kept his voice low despite every instinct screaming at him to whoop and cheer about his packmate’s return at the top of his lungs, “why is he back? And why is he showing his face, doesn’t he know what will happen if people decide they’re out for blood?”

“He didn’t just bugger off…” Mountain shook his head in stunned disbelief. He’d misjudged Dew’s intentions, badly.

“What is he doing?” Aether continued to fret, “what could he possibly be talking to the Judge about? He’s practically asking to join Rain on the gallows!”

Even with their ghoulish hearing, none of them could pick out the exchange happening in front of the podium over the noise of a thousand other competing conversations. Clearly it must be something important, as a young assistant had just been sent hurtling into the town hall, returning minutes later with a book almost the size of his torso. Taking advantage of the disquiet in the confused crowd, the three ghouls bean to sidle carefully closer until they could hear what was happening, but they were still unwilling to draw additional attention to themselves.

With the best hearing among them, Mountain picked up on the conversation first. Was Dew… begging? He couldn’t even recall the last time Dew had said ‘please’, let alone fathom him actually begging for something. Was his own life now in danger?

Aether meanwhile, had diverted his attention to Rain. The ghoul was swaying dangerously on his feet: the combination of mental and physical exhaustion, hunger, and the increasingly warm midday sun were clearly affecting him. Aether feared if they didn’t come to a resolution soon, Rain would no longer be conscious to learn of it.

Having heard enough to make his decision, the Judge pulled himself up straighter and addressed Dew and the crowd in a booming voice,

“It has been brought to my attention that, by way of our ancient customs, if an accused is proposed marriage below the gallows and concedes, then they may be spared execution.” He looked down at Dew, a begrudging scowl on his face, “Dewdrop here is a longstanding member of our community, and has proposed marriage to the Demon of the Flood. He has assured me that they will leave here immediately after, never to return.”

The crowd erupted.

In the midst of the outrage and confusion, three ghouls were now more shocked than ever. They stared at Dew as though he had grown a second head: firstly he had returned to the danger of a potentially murderous mob to try and petition the release of a ghoul he had never shown an ounce of affection, and now he was asking to be married to him? It was beyond their comprehension.

The Judge scanned the crowd, before pointing to the town Reverend, hovering at the side.

“You! Come and marry these two so we can get this exhibition over and done with.” The small and wizened man quickly scurried forward towards the gallows.

“I will be the witness for the accused,” the Judge motioned to the barely vertical Rain before sneering back at Dew as he strode towards the foot of the gallows, “you may pick your own.”

Before Dew could even turn to look for a potential friendly face, a familiar voice spoke up,

“I’ll witness!”

Aether pushed his way through the crowd towards Dew. In an instant, an unspoken conversation passed between them, finalised by Dew hissing at him,

“What the fuck are you still doing here? I told you to escape while you could!”

“The same reason you’re here,” Aether whispered back, “saving Rain!”

The pair reached the foot of the gallows at the same time as Rain was brought down from the platform. As his feet touched solid ground, he practically collapsed into Dew and Aether's arms.

“Sorry... I'm so sorry...” he muttered incoherently into Dew's shoulder, as he clung to him like a lifeline. He was almost catatonic, staring but not fully seeing, as though his mind was on another plane of existence.

“I'm sorry too,” Dew whispered back as Aether surreptitiously fed a stream of energy into Rain until he could stand almost unaided and had stopped his jumbled murmuring, “I pushed you that morning, if anything this is all my fault!”

The pair broke apart as the Judge coughed loudly. A small space had been cleared out around them, the crowd continuing to jostle for a better view.

“Let's get this over with then.” he sniffed, standing on a box laid down by one of his cronies to maintain his imposing stature above everyone's heads. “I take it you are going along with this?” he addressed Rain for the first time directly. The water ghoul just about managed to nod, so the judge gestured offhandedly to the nervous vicar. “Make it quick, Padre.”

The Reverend stumbled through the formalities, acknowledging the presence of two parties, with their respective witnesses, keen to connect their lives eternally in the eyes of the church. Each of the ghouls in attendance – or at least those who were conscious enough to – reflected that their own clan's various handfasting ceremonies seemed so much more meaningful that this trite reading of scripted empty promises.

Aether continued pouring as much energy as he could spare into Rain through a hand resting on his back. As the pair were directed to hold hands for their vows, Dew suppressed a shiver at the frigid temperature of the water ghoul's hands. He heated his own to try and defrost him, fearful however of burning him. Rain parroted his responses like a marionette, going through the motions like a puppet at Aether's command. As the final vow, the instant of I do, arrived, Dew smiled encouragingly at Rain and thought he finally saw a flicker of recognition in his glazed eyes. He couldn't be certain however, if it was a positive spark or not.

“Dewdrop; before this audience of your peers, your nominated witness, and the Lord above, do you pledge to protect and care for Rain, to be his faithful companion through life, and guard him through all harm?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And do you Rain, pledge the same?”

“I d-do.”

Rain’s face was an empty slate as he spoke. The final two words, as simple as they were, draining him. With a last burst of quintessence, he was able to stumble forward and scrawl a mark in the town marriage roll. Once Dew's own signature was complete, Aether as a witness had to withdraw for the final announcement. Passing the weight of the slowly slumping water ghoul to Dewdrop, the small fire ghoul sagged under his weight. Rain’s whole body felt like it was made of ice, and Dew ached to warm him up.

“Just a bit longer, we're almost done now.” he breathed into Rain's ear. He shivered, from the tickle of Dew's breath or his own internal chill Dew couldn't be sure.

“Then in the eyes of this church, by the laws of this Land, and before this council of heaven and its servants, I now declare you eternally bonded as devoted spouses for all eternity.” the Vicar declared, his final recited words coming out in a rush before he stepped back, melting away into the crowd. The Judge cleared his throat before addressing the pair,

“Rain, I hereby pardon you in accordance with the historic laws of our society." He directed his next point at Dew, “I have kept up my side of your bargain; you and your Demon are free to go. Now you must keep your end. Leave here, and never return. I never want to hear of you, your kind, or your descendants ever darkening the doorstep of our town ever again.”

Dew nodded hurriedly,

“You have my word.”

With a curt sniff, the Judge turned, stepped off his box, and re-joined his men. Dew took this dismissal at face value, and passed his brand new dearly beloved back to Aether.

He retrieved his horse from where she had been patiently waiting. He stroked her nose, thankful that nobody had recognised her as the stolen horse from the week prior. Cowbell had clearly gotten bored while Dew was huddled away with the ghoulettes, as she had been returned to him brushed cleaner than he could have imagined and with her mane and tail braided in the intricate northern style. The makeover, combined with her natural lack of distinctive markings, had seemingly been enough of a disguise for now. Dew was keen to get her away from watchful eyes as quick as possible however: if he were branded a horse thief, the whole pardon through marriage would be rendered null and void.

Dew debated putting Rain onto the horse’s – also now clean and repaired – saddle, but from the way Aether was gripping him it didn’t look like he was in any fit state to balance or support himself. Instead, Dew slung one of Rain’s arms over his shoulder and, reins in his other hand, he and Aether quickly propelled him through the crowd towards the main gate. The chatter of those around them was oppressive, but Dew tuned it all out to focus on leaving in as expedient a manner as he could. Towards the edge of the square, Dew caught sight of Mountain and Swiss’s heads over the crowd, pushing their way towards them.

“Seriously?” Dew growled at Aether, “You’re all still here?”

“Of course we are,” Aether hissed back, “we had no idea if you were ever coming back! And we couldn’t lose Rain too.”

Dew supposed he had a point, when he put it like that.

Breaking free of the crowd, the pack were all soon reunited. This was no time for celebration however, as they could all feel the thousands of pairs of eyes tracking their exit. Swiss nodded a greeting at Dew, before motioning for him to hand over the reins of the horse. Dew willingly surrendered them, hoisting Rain’s sagging body higher up onto his shoulder, his balance severely disrupted by the height imbalance between himself and Aether.

The second they passed through the gate and turned out of sight of the staring masses, Mountain swooped in wordlessly. He scooped Rain up, tossing him onto his back and jogging away without looking back. The others gave chase, heading back to the spot where the three ghouls had moved their camp to regroup and plan their exodus. The entire journey was silent. Dewdrop couldn’t tell if it was an awkward silence, a stunned or exhausted one, or if everyone simply had too many emotions racing through their bodies to articulate words. For him it was a combination of everything.

They had soon reached the small copse where their meagre belongings were stored. Aether, ever the peacemaker, was the first to speak.

“We can’t stay here long,” his pack nodded at the warning as they all sunk to the ground, “we had a camp a few miles further out where it was safer, but we didn’t think Rain would be able to make that journey yet.” He explained to Dew. “At first light, we should get moving, but it’s probably safe to spend the night here.”

Together, they tended to Rain and made camp for the night. Making a fire went far quicker now that Dew was here to lend his magic to it: over the last week the others had struggled, Mountain’s earth element seemingly repelling the flames. While he gently coaxed the smouldering logs and kindling to life, Aether settled Rain and began checking his vitals and dressing his wounds. Mountain laid more of his protective wards around the area, and Swiss prepared the ingredients for Aether’s revitalising tea, ready to brew it once the fire was going. They all worked in near-silence. Mountain’s muttered spells, Swiss’s quiet questions to Aether and Aether's to Rain were the only words exchanged between them.

The tension in the air was so thick that Dew could have cut it with a knife, and so frosty that he began to feel cold even sat next to the fire. Finally, he could stand the silence no more. Maybe some small-talk would shatter the ice?

“Uh, it’s good to see-”

"You could have told us what you were planning.” interrupted Mountain, speaking for the first time since the morning. “You shouldn't have just run off like that, we thought you'd abandoned us and left Rain for dead.”

“But, I thought-”

“Frankly I don't give a shit what you think Dew,” Mountain turned on him with a snarl, his pent-up emotions getting the better of him, “we could've all died today, if your little stunt hadn't worked. Hell, we planned on getting thrown back in the pit if it came to it to save Rain. And what did you do? Run off and hide, then rush back in to play the hero at the end!”

“It's not like that!”

“Then what is it, Dewdrop? Because from where I'm standing is sure as all Hell looks like it!”

“If you must know, I went to ask for help, not to hide.”

Mountain snorted derisively, “You? Ask for help? What with – writing your marriage vows?”

"That's enough!” Aether bellowed suddenly, interrupting them. “We're all alive, which is more than we thought we would be this morning.”

The two chastised ghouls sat silently, glowering at their feet. Aether rarely got angry but when he did, people listened. He fixed his piercing violet glare on Dew first.

“Dewdrop, it's good to have you back, but please never ever run off without explaining yourself again. People could have been hurt today.” Dew nodded, suitably chastised.

“And Mountain, keep your temper in check. At least give Dew a chance to explain himself before jumping to conclusions.”

"Yes Aether.” the pair muttered.

“Our priority for now should be stabilising Rain enough to travel, then getting as far away from here as possible.”

Swiss looked up from where he was helping Rain drink his mug of warm liquid.

“Do we have any plans for where ‘far away’ could be?”

Aether and Mountain both shrugged. They were the most widely travelled of the group, but before settling here, neither one had put down any roots elsewhere.

“I might do,” Dew said quietly. Mountain turned a cold stare on him, which he chose to ignore, “it's the place I came from before, where I went back to this week.”

All eyes turned to look at Dew: even Rain showed a spark of interest, the heat of the tea seemed to be thawing him from his stupor. Dew had never spoken of his time before joining the pack, any questions had been thoroughly shot down, and Dew had made it very clear that all discussion of his past was off limits.

“It's this Abbey, a religious place about a week north by foot, with lots of ghouls and a few very devout humans. They study His word, and try to spread it through art, literature and music.”

“And we could stay there? For how long?” Swiss perked up. Dew had expected he would be most receptive to the idea, as the most sociable member of the pack.

“As long as we want, I think?” Dew shrugged his shoulders, “They took me in, years ago, in exchange for working there.”

"Why did you leave?” Aether asked softly. “It sounds like a good place for a scared young ghoul.”

“Thanks.” Dew smiled wryly, knowing that description fitted who he was when Aether had first found him, better than he would like to admit. “It just wasn't right for me, back then. Things are different now,” he paused, “I'm different.”

“You’re not expecting us all to give up our freedom and serve some humans, just because they told you about some obscure law?” Mountain asked, incredulity clear in his voice. “Is that why you went in the first place, to sign us all up? You couldn't have known that they would have some miracle answer for you.”

"Mountain...” Aether warned, but Dew waved him off.

“No, I didn't know they would have a solution like this. I didn't know if they would be able to help at all.” Dew looked imploringly into the face of his packmates, “But I knew what our chances of saving Rain were otherwise, and what the consequences would be if we failed.”

“We'd all be in the pit.” Swiss clarified, unhelpfully.

“We're all too susceptible to each other's elements,” Aether confirmed, “every plan we made was hindered by our own vulnerabilities to each other.”

“That's what I thought the ghouls up north could help us with,” explained Dew, “there's ghouls of every element and they all live together without any problems, so I thought they could teach me some way to avoid hurting each other with our magic.”

“Getting Rain out of there would certainly have been easier.” nodded Aether. Even Mountain had to grudgingly admit that Dew was correct in his thinking.

“We're all here now and we're all safe, so let's start thinking forwards.” Swiss reasoned. “Unless anyone has any better ideas, this Abbey seems like the best place while Rain is recovering.” He had a point; staying here they were like sitting ducks.

“It’s not like you’d be trapped there,” added Dew, “they let me leave before, and all the other ghouls are there of their own free will too.”

“Presumably their help isn’t free?” Mountain asked, suspicion still clouding his tone.

“No, but they trade in knowledge rather than money,” Dew explained, “you and Aeth have an encyclopaedic knowledge of medicinal plants, so they'll probably just ask for your help with a few bits in the gardens or their infirmary while Rain gets better.”

“It would help if we still had our anthology, but we couldn't find it anywhere when we left.” sighed Aether sadly.

Feeling guilty, Dew stayed silent.

“What are the ghouls there like?” Swiss asked, curious. “Are they travellers who settled down like us, or a family clan, or what?”

“They're mostly like us, there's ghouls from all over and of all elements.” Dew thought about the ghoulettes there, and how they had been so happy to see him again after so long. “But they've made their own sort of clan, I guess, like a family.”

With the rapt attention of his pack Dew kept talking until the light was fading, the sky changing from blue, to orange, to a deep indigo.

He started by describing the air ghoulettes; the first ghouls he had ever met who showed him what a true, nurturing family could be like. Like Swiss, who was part air-ghoul, they both had almost uncanny predictive powers. The premonitions of the air ghoul clans had always been hailed as their best defence against the occasional warmongering of other stronger and more violent families of ghouls, but usually they gathered and shared information as a swarm rather than as individuals. Cumulus was unique in that she could hear more complete whispers on the winds; small snippets of conversations and rumours wove their way through the breeze to her waiting ears. Cirrus's were slightly different but no less complete, her own visions relating more to the tides of weather than the tides of fate.

Dew continued, describing how his one-time mentor Mist had come to the Abbey after her ancient clan was scattered across the land, when humans drained their river habitat with their dams. He even briefly mentioned Sunshine, although he had only met her during the week before, the first multi ghoul he had met besides Swiss. He knew she had lived amongst humans before too, although he hadn't asked what had changed that led her to the Abbey. He knew some of the other ghouls had been there longer than anyone had any record of – it was hotly debated if Cowbell had been the first ghoul to arrive, or if the building had simply been erected around them.

“What is the human in charge there like?” Aether asked. Dew supposed it made sense that this would be the part they were most sceptical of: if it were any other human, he would be too, and probably doubly so. He thought about the best way to describe the enigma that was Papa Emeritus the Fourth, a man who frequently said ‘ghouls are His children; I am His mouthpiece’.

“He seems more like a ghoul himself sometimes,” Dew finally answered. “Not in a feral way, but he seems to understand ghoulish instincts and needs better than a human should. He might be in charge, but he runs the Abbey for the ghouls.”

That didn't do him justice, Dew supposed, but it would have to do for now. Without Copia showing that not all humans were untrustworthy, Dew would never have considered settling with Aether and Mountain near a village like they had. After the events of the past week however, he was inclined to think that Copia really was an exception amongst his species.

“And the other humans?”

“They’ll do anything he says,” Dew said, thinking of the sheep-like Siblings of Sin, “I don’t think any of them want to find out what would happen if they showed an ounce of disrespect to a ghoul!”

“It sounds like we would be safe there,” Aether said thoughtfully, “and I can't see any other option for now.”

He and Dew looked cautiously at Mountain for his reaction.

“Fine, I guess we can go to this Abbey,” he sighed, “Aether's right, there's nowhere else we can take Rain, and he'll never recover if we stay out on the road forever.”

With a plan in place, each of the ghouls seemed a little more relaxed as they began sifting through their supplies to find something to call dinner, all of them suddenly realising how hungry they were. Aether took a turn coaxing Rain to eat, the still-silent ghoul tentatively nibbling on some dry bread soaked in a broth of more healing herbs. He laid a healing hand on his jaw, sensing the water ghoul's pain with every bite. Rain stilled, hissing quietly at the pressure on the sensitive patch of skin, stained indigo with bruising. Aether funnelled quintessence through his fingertips, the blood beneath Rain's skin starting to disperse and the damaged tissue beginning to knit itself back together.

“That's the best I can do for now,” he said softly, “if we can find the correct herbs, I'll make you a poultice to bring the swelling down further.”

Although Rain continued to say nothing, Aether saw the relief in his eyes as he was able to finish eating without pain.

“Can we make the trip?” He asked Swiss, before clarifying, “Will Rain be able to?”

Swiss zoned out for a second, contemplating, before smiling, “I think so. I don't see him getting any worse.”

"Your sight is back?” asked Mountain, leaning forward into the multi ghoul's space to poke at his forehead as though he had a third eye there. Swiss nodded happily, staring at the finger in front of him with crossed eyes.

“Yeah, it came back as we were leaving the village! I still can't see much, but there's light ahead for us now.”

“I wonder why you lost it,” mused Aether, “and what brought it back?”

Swiss flicked his eyes to Dewdrop. “I think it was Dew.” The fire ghoul stared at him wide-eyed, and raised his hands in front of him as if to say ‘don’t blame me, I wasn’t here!’ Swiss snickered gently at his reaction.

“It wasn’t anything you did, don’t worry. I think I couldn’t see anything because I was only considering the three of us plus Rain.” He explained, pacifying the mildly panicked Dewdrop.

“I wasn’t questioning what Dew was doing at all, if anything I was trying to avoid seeing him to not get distracted,” Swiss didn’t want to admit it and stir the already frayed emotions between his pack, but the real reason he had been avoiding poking for Dew’s future was that he was as upset with him for leaving as the others were, “but because he was so crucial for Rain’s rescue it meant I subconsciously blocked everything about that out too!”

“Uh, sorry?” Tried Dew, but Swiss only shrugged with a small smile, “It’s back now, that’s what matters. I’ll keep a more open mind when looking ahead in future.”

“So,” said Aether, fighting back a yawn as the exhaustion from the last week, combined with the copious amounts of his own strength he had poured into Rain, began to take its toll on him, “it’s agreed, we’re heading north?”

A chorus of assent followed.

“Then let’s stay here for the night, and get moving early.”

“I’ll take first watch,” murmured Mountain, always one to volunteer. Dew suspected he was also keeping an eye on him, should he decide to flee again. Earth ghouls were a stubborn species: once you earned their trust it took a lot to shake it, but if it was lost, it took even longer to regain.

Leant against Aether’s side, Rain stirred from his stupor for long enough to begin shivering violently in the chilly night air. Aether wrapped a strong arm around him, rubbing him gently to try and warm him.

“Dew, Rain’s as cold as ice, he can sleep next to the fire but you should put your bedroll next to him to keep him warm if you can.” Aether said with concern. Dew stared at him blankly.

“Bedroll?” He asked, confused.

“Sleeping mat?” Tried Aether. Dew shook his head. Survival skills never were his strong suit, supposed Aether. “Then what have you been sleeping on?”

The fire ghoul pointed at the horse blanket, draped over the mare’s back beneath her saddle. Aether sighed,

“The horse blanket is for the horse, Dew. It's a chilly night and we've got a long trip ahead of us, she'll get sick if you let her stay cold for too long.”

“I didn't think of that,” Dew looked guiltily at his feet, “do you have a spare one?”

It was Aether's turn to look sheepish.

“We only brought four, we expected Rain would need one, but we didn't think you were coming back.”

Dew looked dejectedly at the pile of warm blankets Swiss was arranging around the fire. He guessed if he curled up close enough to it, it would keep his own internal fire lit for the week ahead.

“Do you think you could share with Rain?” Aether almost begged, “You two are the smallest, and he really needs to be kept warm right now to recover.”

While Dew huffed and puffed indignantly, and made a large song and dance about the whole situation, Swiss bit back a joke about them enjoying their wedding night. Maybe Mountain would appreciate it later, when he wasn't in a vindictive mood and liable to repeat it in order to upset Dew further.

Eventually, the five ghouls were settled. Dew had his back to Rain, led as far away from him as the blanket tucked around them would allow. The water ghoul had finally stopped shaking as Dew's natural heat warmed the blanket and the air within, and the embers of the fire glowing nearby radiated their dying warmth at them as they fell into fitful sleep. Aether had passed out cold almost as soon as his head touched the ground, exhausted from the day. Swiss took a little longer, getting comfortable as Mountain took up his now-routine watch position by his feet, but soon joined the others. He was most happy taking on sentry duties during the witching hour, although Mountain was loath to wake him every time.

Mountain trained his watchful eyes and ears on the area surrounding them, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Above the town in the distance, an orange glow lit up the sky. He wondered if it was a celebration at their exile, or an angry mob preparing to hunt them down. The part of him that was angry at the world and wanted to burn it all down hoped it was the latter.

He knew his reaction to Dew's return had been out of order, driven by his fury at the unfairness of the situation. What Rain had done was terrible, but similar accidents before had been treated as the mistakes they were. When a barn fire had taken out half of Farmer Hedditch's livestock and four of his sons, including his youngest at only six years of age, the careless farmhand responsible had at least been allowed to explain himself. He had later been tried and imprisoned for his inaction and negligence, but at no point had his own death been proposed. Yet Rain had been presumed a monster, and all the town had clamoured for the harshest punishment of all.

Mountain sat and seethed at the injustice of it all. He would have to apologise to Dew eventually: while he shouldn't have antagonised Rain as he had, no one could have predicted how far-reaching the consequences of his jibe that morning would be. Despite the unorthodox way he went about it, and the mistakes he made by not explaining himself, he had indeed saved Rain – and possible all of them – from death or banishment to the pit. Come morning, the next chapter of all their lives would start, and they could all begin to heal from this ordeal.

[aceass1n]

So I don't usually ship characters in videogames unless they're explicitly mentioned/canonical (mostly cuz my aroace ass never picks up on it lmao) BUT

I started thinking about Ji x Jietong and I have not. been able. to stop.

There's a few reasons for it, but I haven't really done any lore deepdives (aka looking into interviews, lore videos, etc) so this is all mostly from the top of my head and a quick scan of Ji's wiki page lmao (SPOILERS, tw: suicide):

Ji's dialogue with Yi re the Farewell Passage (or whatever it's called, I can't quite remember, sorry): iirc, Ji doesn't really talk about that many people by name in his various pieces of dialogue and they tend to talk about the past in pretty vague terms, so it really stuck out to me that he a) mentions Jietong by name and b) gave enough of a shit to discuss his legacy with Yi in relative detail. From a gameplay/plot standpoint, this was probably included to help Yi's character arc/introduce Ji's worldview, but I can't help but feel like Ji's uncharacteristic investment in Jietong's death and legacy points to a much more personal relatinoship with the guy than just "Oh he was my boss at one point" or "yeah he was an interesting historical figure."

Ji's Vital Sanctum memories: Jietong's death made such a significant impact on Ji's worldview and character that it was one of the four or five memories Yi sees in Ji's soulscape. This in and of itself is already pretty indicative of Ji caring about Jietong and what happens to him; coupled with (1) and the fact that the only other person who's "death" Ji remembers in detail is Lear (who we know he considered a dear friend), it seems pretty fair to say they were quite attached to Jietong.

In Mandarin, Jiequan calls Ji guoshi, which is a term referring to a state advisor/teacher (I think), even though no one else does. A lot of other people have already figured out that Ji was an advisor of sorts for the Jie kingdom at some point early on, and it stuck out to me that Ji is apparently still considered guoshi for the exiled Jie clan even though the kingdom doesn't exist anymore. Why stick around after all this time? Not to mention that, though Jiequan's dialogue with Ji is mostly Jiequan being like "hey you were fucking wrong dumbass", he does still seem to hold some measure of respect or trust for Ji and their divination. How closely did Jietong hold Ji's counsel back then for that respect and trust to remain in the clan even centuries later?

I'm also just a sucker for tragic doomed gays, and I can't stop thinking about Ji foreseeing how Jietong's life would end and trying everything they can to avert it, only to watch helplessly as the future remains unchanged no matter what he tries to do.

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 1

summary: Natasha identifies a girl who needs their help and makes a case to the rest of the team. the problem? the girl who needs the help was genetically engineered to oppose their friend.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

chapter list

________________________________________

Three Months Earlier

The team filed into the conference room at The Avengers’ Compound in their usual order: Steve and Vision (fifteen minutes early), Peter, Bruce, Wanda, and Sam right on time, and Tony striding in five minutes late. 

“I have to admit, when I heard you wanted to see me, I was hoping for more of a one-on-one situation.” Sam joked as he plopped down in his chair. 

“Keep dreaming, Wilson.” She shot him a side-eyed glance, a shadow of a smile on her face. 

The room held a strange energy, remaining unusually quiet as everyone waited for Natasha to explain the reason for calling the meeting. Steve and Tony had historically been the only ones to call official team briefings. 

“I found a girl.” Natasha slid a stack of folders across the table. 

“Hey, love is love. As long as I can watch.” Tony grinned. 

“Shut up.” She ignored him and clicked a button on her computer, bringing a set video footage to life on the screen behind her. “Her name is Charlotte Julianna Rossi. She’s 21 years old, according to her Drivers’ License. According to her birth certificate, she’s closer to 100.” 

The room fell quiet, Steve and Natasha exchanging a sobering gaze. The screen on the wall showed several clips at once, all featuring a pretty young girl. Her hair was different colors across all of the clips, some showing her with long, blonde locks and some showing a cropped dark haircut with severe bangs, others showing varying shades of red. 

“She’s hardly been on the radar until the past two years. In that time period, she’s been hospitalized seventeen times for injuries consistent with overuse and extreme fatigue. Rhabdomyolysis, kidney damage, severe muscle strain, dehydration, the list goes on. Every single time, she’s admitted in a critical state but checks herself out against medical advice less than 24 hours later.” 

As the team shuffled through the documents in front of them, putting pieces together, Natasha continued. 

“I found her because she made headlines earlier this year after getting kicked out of Team USA Olympic trials for women’s gymnastics. They tried to cover it up, didn’t want to get any questions they didn’t have an answer for. From what I was able to gather, she came out of nowhere, competed at the last National Championship meet as an unaffiliated gymnast, and won every event with a perfect score. The entire gymnastics community was up in arms about it. They tried to figure out where she came from, where she trained, but there was nothing. No record. Of course, Team USA begged her to come to the tryout, she blew them away. Somehow, one of the families of the gymnasts at risk of losing their spot got her kicked off for use of performance enhancing drugs. The thing is, there’s no record of her ever even being tested.”

“No offense, Nat, but we aren’t exactly looking to start a Cirque Du Soleil Troupe here.” 

“Tony, shut the fuck up and let me finish.” She gave him an austere look as he put his hands up defensively. 

“Since then, she’s won a dozen amateur MMA matches, three boxing matches, and won fifteen straight games of poker before being banned from the majority of Vegas casinos. She’s making her money drifting, picking up random things and kicking everyone’s ass at them. Clearly, it’s not without a toll, if you look at her hospital records.”

She clicked a button and the screen shifted, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. A grainy document had been scanned in, the HYDRA symbol emblazoned on the top of the letterhead. 

“Project Mockingbird. It was pioneered two years after the Winter Soldier project. Specifically, it was initiated only ten days after a record seventeen HYDRA agents were critically injured trying to contain their primary test subject during an attempted escape.” 

Wanda spoke slowly. “You mean…”

“Bucky.” Steve breathed out. 

“Right.” Natasha was solemn. “I didn’t want to leave him out of this, but I didn’t know how he’d handle it. I figured it was better to tell him once we have more information.” 

Steve nodded, brow knit together in concern. 

“Okay, so I think I’m tracking all of this, but if you could - just so I’m clear, what exactly does all of this mean?” Peter leaned forward nervously. 

Taking a deep breath, Natasha answered. “This is just a hypothesis, but I don’t see much wiggle room. It appears that when HYDRA was working on the Winter Soldier project, on Bucky…they had difficulties containing him. Controlling him. When it became apparent that ordinary agents couldn’t do it, they took to experimenting on others. Orphans, mainly. People no one would miss. Trying to create something…someone to be able to stand against him.”

She pulled out a chair and sat for the first time, regarding all of them seriously. “They had dozens of test subjects. The majority of them didn’t survive the initial round of experimentation. A few others suffered complications in cryo. She’s the only one left.”

“Forgive me for being so forward,” Vision spoke up. “But, if I’m understanding correctly, we have reason to believe that Ms. Ross, she was created to oppose Sergeant Barnes.” 

“Yes.” Natasha avoided Steve’s eyes like her life depended on it. “I believe that Charlotte Julianna Rossi was enhanced by HYDRA as a sentient weapon with the primary purpose being containment and control of The Winter Soldier.” 

Present Day

“Thank you.” Natasha gave a polite smile to the driver as he opened the car door for her to step out. They’d arrived at the Wynn, one of - if not the nicest hotels on the Las Vegas strip. 

She’d wasted no time after the mission was approved, spending the majority of the flight putting on full glam and finishing it off with the perfect red lip. Black cocktail dress, gold heels that caught and reflected all the Vegas lights, studded clutch purse with cash, lipstick, and a pistol. Tony had offered to book her a hotel room through his connections, but she’d waved him off. 

They’d be back in New York by sunrise. 

It didn’t take long for her to locate Charlotte. Though 8pm was early by Vegas accounts, the casino was lively. Natasha dodged several attempted pick-up attempts by drunken gamblers as she wove through the tables to her end destination: the high stakes room. A sultry smile paired with her low cut dress made quick work of gaining entry. It wasn’t unusual for beautiful women to be welcomed into the high stakes room. The only thing rich men loved more than blowing money was doing it in front of a pretty audience. Nat slipped into the intimate room, the air full of cigar smoke and jazz music. 

Seated at a small table was a pretty brunette, eyes dark with smudged shadow and lips glossy. A martini sat in front of her, completely untouched, judging by the lack of a gloss print on the rim. Charlotte tapped the table in front of her, signaling for the dealer to give her another card. She already showed a nineteen, meaning standard play said she shouldn’t hit. The crowd murmured, exchanging glances. In the betting circle was a stack of $1,000 chips that Natasha estimated to be around $20,000. 

To the shock of everyone but Natasha and Charlotte, the dealer flipped a third card to reveal a two of diamonds. Blackjack. 

Charlotte grinned, leaning back and relishing in the applause as the dealer paled and began counting out chips to pay her. Nat cracked a smile but immediately felt a jolt in her stomach. The dealer had given a nod to the guard at the front, who was now touching his earpiece and speaking softly. She couldn’t hear him over the music, but his lips read clear as day: She must be counting. 

Acting quickly, Nat stepped to the table, making herself wobbly and heavy lidded.

“Ohmygod, THERE you are,” she put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, who immediately tensed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, c’mon, the girls are waiting with the Uber,”

She squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder and briefly broke character to give an urgent look, hoping she’d pick up on the fact that the drunk persona was intentional.

“Oh, look at the time,” She said in mock surprise. “It’s been fun, don’t have too much fun without me!” Her manicured hands slid stacks of chips into her purse, a few falling to the floor with wide-eyed spectators locked onto them. 

“Get yourself something nice, Gary.” She flicked a purple $1,000 chip to the dealer who fumbled to catch it. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw two men approaching them from across the casino floor. She elbowed Charlotte, who tracked her gaze and clocked them immediately. 

Waving her arm, Natasha knocked the still-full martini glass onto the felt of the Blackjack table. The gin spewed across the cards and glass splintered on contact. “Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have taken that last shot,” She called the apology over her shoulder into the chaos that descended over the mess, linking her arm through Charlotte’s as she fumbled to close her small bag around the massive amount of chips. 

They slid out the door under the cover of the bachelorette party walking past, slipping right into the middle of the drunken parade. 

“What’s going on?” The brunette hissed through a fake smile, keeping the facade up. 

“You were about to get busted. I thought I’d help a girl out.” Nat said through her own plastered smile, eyes darting around the room in search of their next problem. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

“I know. That’s why I’m here in the first place.” 

Charlotte side-eyed her as they walked through the casino, still covered by the herd of pink boas and giggles. 

“Stark sent you.” 

“No.”

“I’m not stupid, I-”

“He’s the stupid one. I wanted to come in the first place, it was him who thought the testosterone brigade was the way to go. We can get into that later, but right now we’ve gotta move. There’s two coming up -”

“Yeah, six o’clock. Two more probably waiting around the corner up ahead. If we cut through the floor, we can make it to the cashier before they get to us.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, impressed at how they jumped to the same wavelength. “You still want to cash out?”

Charlotte grinned, a wild gleam in her eye. “Duh.” 

A few minutes later, they’d steered the group of girls to the cashier and fanned them out so that each of the six windows had two girls standing in front of it. Each of them with roughly $4,000 worth of chips in their hands. They got through the exchanges in record time, leaving the bachelorettes in a flurry of drunken “iloveyou’s” with a stack of bills to show their appreciation for the help. 

“That should cover the rest of their weekend.” Nat smirked as they strode quickly to the lobby, positioning her body slightly in front of Charlotte so as not to draw attention to the thick wads of cash she was zipping into her bag. 

“I don’t know, I can blow three grand pretty quickly on my own, let alone with ten of my closest friends.” 

“I don’t think I want ten friends.” 

Charlotte matched her pace, the bag finally zipped. “I don’t even know ten people, I just thought it sounded good.” 

They reached the front doors, nodding at the valet who held the door open for them. 

“I have a driver, this way.” Natasha cocked her head to the front of the valet line, full of sports cars and sleek SUVs. Glancing over her shoulder at the casino, the men seemed to have lost them in the crowd. Charlotte weighed her options quickly, deciding that taking a getaway car with the Avenger was preferable to whatever awaited her if she stayed.

They slid into the backseat of the black sedan, breathing quickly from adrenaline. 

“You’re back so soon, Ms. Romanoff.” The driver called from the front seat. 

“It was getting stale, figured I could find something more fun.” 

The driver’s eyes crinkled in a knowing smile in the rearview mirror. Charlotte had a feeling he knew much more than he should, choosing to live in ignorance. 

“You hungry?” the redhead asked nonchalantly. 

“Starving.” 

_________________

The duo sat in a secluded corner booth of a dark bar. The remnants of two burgers sat strewn across the plates, a few leftover fries getting cold. Natasha signaled to the bartender for another round of martinis, extra dirty. 

“Who knew the best burgers in Vegas would come from a strip club?” Charlotte downed the remnants of her drink to make room for the new one. 

“Hey, I’m no stranger to Vegas.” 

“So I can tell.” She shifted to sit up straighter. “Do you wanna get into your sales pitch now, or should we wait for the drinks?”

Natasha remained casual, leaning against the pristine leather of the booth. “There’s no sales pitch. Just an offer. Take it or leave it.” 

“And the offer is…?” 

“Come with me. Back to New York. Live at the compound. Be around people like you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “There are no people like me.” 

“Spare me the pity party bullshit.” Nat leaned in. “I don’t know the specifics of your story, but I know enough to tell you that we are like you.”

Taken aback by her forcefulness, the brunette narrowed her eyes. 

“Enhanced individual? Pretty much all of us. Dark, twisty past? We’ve got ‘em. Done things we aren’t proud of? Goes without saying. No friends, no family? We have a very dysfunctional Thanksgiving of our own.” She gave a small smile. “Experimented on, dehumanized, controlled, stripped of autonomy? Specifically by one particular Nazi rogue science division?” Natasha changed her tone, speaking gently. “One of my very best friends knows a little something about that, too.” 

Charlotte tensed, eyes glazed as she stared into the dark room in front of them. “James Barnes.” It wasn’t a question. 

“We call him Bucky.” 

Chewing her lower lip, Charlotte seemed lost in her thoughts. A cocktail waitress interrupted with two fresh drinks, setting them down with a smile. Eyes still defocused, she reached out to sip the drink slowly. 

“I don’t think it’s smart.” 

“Why?” Natasha took a sip of her own. “There’s nowhere safer for you. The Compound is literally the most secure place on Earth, except maybe Wakanda, and before you say you’re worried about hurting someone there - don’t. We live with Dr. Banner, who you probably know as the Hulk. I’m sure you’re a force to be reckoned with, but I can assure you that even on your worst day you wouldn’t be putting us at risk.”

She spun the wooden stick adorned with olives between her fingers, thinking. “I don’t want to be an Avengers. I’m not a hero. I don’t want to fight.” 

“Then don’t.” Natasha shrugged. “I’m not a military recruiter. I just remember what it was like to be alone, scared. Unsure where to go or who to trust. I’m offering you a home and a group of people you can count on. Anything else is up to you.” 

Charlotte smirked. “You’re much better at this than the last three.” 

“Story of my life.” She rolled her eyes.

“So, what would happen if I said yes? Hypothetically.” 

“Well, hypothetically, I have a jet waiting at the private airfield. We’d go to whichever hotel you’re renting the penthouse out of, get your stuff, and fly back tonight.” 

“Why do you assume I’m renting out a penthouse?” 

Natasha grinned, biting an olive off the stick. “It’s what I would do.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte cocked her jaw. “I’m at the Cosmo.”

“Great choice.” She held her martini up, signaling for a toast. “How about this, we go out tonight. Do Vegas right. Do it big. If you have fun, you come back with me and try living with us. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll accept that I’m no better than the guys and go back on my own. We won’t bug you anymore, but the offer will always stand.”

“You know, a bet predicated on having fun in Las Vegas seems like a very unfair advantage.” She raised her own glass.

“I’ve never been much of a gambler.” 

“That makes one of us.” Charlotte grinned. “You’re on.” 

_________________

It was just after 4:00am when their dutiful driver opened the door on the tarmac. Heels in hand, two sets of bare feet walked up the steps into the sleek jet, Stark Industries emblazoned on the side. 

“I still can’t believe they kicked us out.” Charlotte rubbed her temples as she sunk into the white leather seat. 

“Well they don’t really encourage doing backflips off of the craps table.” Natasha sat down across from her. 

“Here I thought Vegas was the one place where anything goes.” She dropped her purse on the table in front of them, the thud echoing in the empty cabin. “At least we made out alright.” 

“I expect a cut for saving your ass.” 

“I’ll consider it.” 

“You like pancakes?” Natasha punched a few buttons on a screen embedded in the wall.

“Um, who doesn’t?” 

Grinning, the redhead slid her feet onto the seat, getting comfortable. “They’ll be ready in fifteen. Probably best if we get something in our stomachs besides tequila.”

“If I knew you were offering private jets and pancakes at four in the morning, I might have been an easier sell.” 

“What are you talking about? You hardly put up a fight.” She winked. 

“Whatever, you won fair and square. I’m just holding up my end of the deal.” Charlotte tucked her knees under her, relaxing into the chair as the plane ascended.

“We’ve got a couple hours back to New York. Eat, rest, and we’ll be there before you know it. If you aren’t up for meeting people when we land, I’ll sneak you to your room. You can socialize when you’re not coming off of an all-night bender.” 

“What, you don’t think I’d make a good first impression right now?” She joked, fully aware of her smeared eye makeup and tousled hair. 

“Au contraire, I think you’d make too good of an impression. I’m just trying to give the guys a fighting chance here.”

Giggles subsiding, Charlotte looked out the window at the pinpricks of light shrinking beneath them. The smell of pancakes and overly sweet syrup filled the air as a stewardess wheeled the food out towards them. 

“Natasha?” 

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you came.” 

She smiled, warmth extending to her eyes. 

“Me too.”