#and he’s stranded as to what he should do + silently devastated

[thejasontoddarchives]

Brothers in Blood will trick you into thinking it’s just a silly crack scenario brought to life and Jason just concocted this plan for shits and giggles. Then you get a single page like this:

Nightwing (1996-) #121

that reveals he wanted/desperately needed shreds of acceptance even if it was coated in layers of resentment irritation and doubt after going through this:

Batman (1940-) #650

And it had to be from someone who isn’t Bruce

[yuujispinkhair]

Separation Anxiety (Chapter 11)

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

++ Masterpost ++

Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji Genre: Memory Loss AU, fluff, smut, light angst Word Count: 1.7k Playlist: Separation Anxiety Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends). All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Chapter 11

Honey, you're Atlas in his sleeping. And when you move, I'm moved (Movement by Hozier)

Sukuna can't sleep. His gaze is glued to the sleeping boy next to him. Yuuji looks so peaceful, so comfortable. Even in his sleep, he wears a gentle smile on his pretty face, and Sukuna can't help but be mesmerized by it.

When they still shared a body, Yuuji was often haunted by nightmares, drowning in fear and guilt in his dreams, tossing from side to side, kicking and boxing the enemies he encountered in his nightmares. Now, he looks like he has the sweetest dreams, full of bliss and peace. Is this something Sukuna gave him? Could he give Yuuji peace?

He never expected to be able to do this to someone. All he knew was violence and how to take what he desired, not caring how the other person would feel about it. Is it possible that he is really able to make someone happy? To make someone feel safe and loved?

Yuuji makes a soft humming sound in his sleep and stirs, but only to snuggle closer to Sukuna, automatically searching his warmth and the safety of his arms.

When Sukuna took the boy as an unknowing hostage all those months ago, he thought he would enjoy moments like these because they meant he had power over the brat and could easily break him.

But when he sees the soft, happy smile on Yuuji's sleeping face now, he doesn't want to hurt him. He doesn't feel any satisfaction at the thought of fooling the boy.

Because he isn't even fooling him anymore, is he? He hasn't fooled him in a while. The only one Sukuna was fooling was himself.

He doesn't want to break Yuuji. He wants to care for him, wants to make him smile in his sleep like this, wants to make him laugh that loud, happy laugh. He wants to be the reason Yuuji feels loved.

There it is again. That word. Love.

Is this love?

Sukuna lets the word roll over his tongue, tasting it, feeling it, whispering it to the otherwise silent bedroom.

Love.

Something Sukuna always considered a weakness. A dangerous curse. Something that should be avoided at all costs. But is it?

It is, without a doubt, an extremely powerful force. Isn't love the one thing every song and poem and story seems to be about? What else has the power to be that important? Isn't love a power so strong and devastating that it can lead to the fall of whole empires? That it can lead to wars and burn entire cities down? Something so powerful that it makes people kill for it? That it makes them die for it?

Sukuna lets his gaze trail over Yuuji's pretty face, reaching out to brush a strand of soft pink hair out of his eyes.

Love should feel terrifying after everything he knows about it. But somehow, when he looks at Yuuji, he feels a kind of warmth he has never felt before.

Maybe he got it wrong.

Love has the potential to lead to one's downfall, but maybe that risk is the price you have to pay to gain access to the greatest power this world holds. To the power that moves mountains, the power that moves this world.

It already moves him. Yuuji moves him.

What he feels for Yuuji is more intense than anything Sukuna has ever felt in a thousand years and more. It's earth-shattering. It's more potent than any magic he ever possessed.

Sukuna is Yuuji's now, but it doesn't feel as terrifying anymore as it should. Instead, his chest feels warm and full. He is experiencing a feeling of completion so contrary to the solitude he has felt all his life. As if he finally found an anchor that makes him belong to this modern human world that still seems so foreign to him. As if he finally found a home, something he never had before.

The sunlight is warm on Sukuna's back as he strolls through the small park. His hand is firmly clasped in Yuuji's. He can feel their combined heartbeats in their palms, perfectly in synch, almost like in the past when they still shared a body.

They are on their way to the small Shinto shrine again. It comes into view behind a path turn, and Yuuji tugs on Sukuna's hand, pulling him along while laughing his typical loud laugh. Sukuna follows with a small smile forming on his lips.

Yuuji takes another ema, scribbling another wish to hang up in the shrine. He writes it down while standing beside Sukuna, letting him see every word he writes. So open about his feelings. Sukuna's chest feels tight when he reads what the boy wrote.

He wishes for Sukuna to be safe and happy. He wishes for them to always be together and live a long, happy life at each other's side. He wishes to get his memories back so he can remember their shared past.

Sukuna's heart aches.

Before they leave, he grabs an ema too.

Let me keep him. Don't let him get his memories back. Let me have this.

He almost laughs when he walks over to the wall with all the other wishes. What is he doing? He is a God himself. Why is he here writing such a desperate plea to a random deity? What has the great Sukuna-sama come to?

But he hears Yuuji's clear, happy laughter, sees his smile and the sunlight reflecting in his golden eyes, and the hand extended towards Sukuna, warm and loving, waiting to pull him along again. And Sukuna stops doubting his actions.

He doesn't want his former life back. He doesn't want to sit on a lonely throne of skulls. He doesn't want to be the untouchable God who cut himself off from anything and anyone.

Yuuji is standing in front of him, so full of life and love, smiling at Sukuna, waiting for him to take his hand. As if telling him: You don't have to be alone.

And Sukuna puts the ema with his wish on the wall. Fixes it with two instead of just one knot, making sure it stays there.

The delicious smell of frying vegetables and sesame seeds drifts through the apartment. Sukuna can't stay on the couch any longer. He gets up, abandoning the book he was reading on the glass table, and walks to the kitchen.

He stops in the large doorway, a fond smile creeping over his face as he watches Yuuji standing at the stove, stirring the large pan in front of him while adding some finely chopped ginger and humming a song he heard on the radio this morning.

Yuuji has been spending more time in the kitchen during the last weeks, naturally discovering his former passion again. Sukuna made sure to keep Uraume at bay, instructing them to let Master Yuuji have free reigns in the kitchen.

The boy becomes aware of Sukuna. Maybe he, too, feels the red string connecting them. He smiles at Sukuna over his shoulder. That big sunshine smile that Sukuna used to think was pathetic, but now it looks beautiful to him. Yuuji beams at him, genuinely happy to see him.

"Heyyy, baby! Dinner is almost ready! I think this one is gonna be a real success!"

Sukuna laughs softly, leaning against the doorframe with a smile playing around his lips.

"I am sure it will be marvelous. Everything you cook tastes exquisite."

Yuuji cocks his head thoughtfully at that, a proud smile on his face,

"I think I might have really been a good cook before my accident. I seem to remember all the routines. Did I cook a lot? Or just occasionally?"

"You cooked almost every day."

Sukuna grins, more to himself than at Yuuji. Even though their shared past is very different from the way Yuuji thinks it was, it is still true that Yuuji cooked, and in a way, he also cooked for Sukuna because Sukuna always managed to taste some of it when the boy ate.

And so Sukuna adds,

"And I always liked your food."

Yuuji's face lights up even more, his golden eyes glittering happily.

"That's nice! I'm glad I took good care of you, even if I can't remember!"

His love for Sukuna emanates from him almost visibly, as warm as the sun and as unwavering as the universe itself. So selfless, so genuine, so good.

Sukuna feels his face contort. He has to look away, taking a shuddering breath as he stares fixedly at a small crack in the wall next to the door frame. The feelings flooding his chest are too much, too intense.

"Kuna? Are you ok, baby? Is something wrong?"

Yuuji's voice is filled with worry. Always so caring, so protective, so full of love. Sukuna lets out a slow breath and meets Yuuji's gaze again, sapphire eyes looking deeply into golden ones.

The intensity of his emotions almost overwhelms him. As if he is standing at the edge of a cliff, about to fall into a deep ocean that will drown him in its powerful waves. But somehow, those waves look warm and inviting, making him want to dive into them willingly and never return to the shore again.

"Yuuji?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Sukuna has said those words so many times during the last few months. They were a lie at first, whispered with the cruelest intentions. A malicious game, a means to break his former vessel.

But now those words mean a different thing. They aren't a lie anymore.

For the first time in his life, Sukuna thinks he knows what love is, and when he says those three words, they carry their true meaning. He loves Yuuji.

Yuuji laughs, eyes wrinkling and lips opening in a happy laugh, waving a hand dismissively as if Sukuna is funny for stating the obvious.

"I know! And I love you too!"

Sukuna tries to join in on Yuuji's laughter, but it only comes out as a strangled huff. He quickly pushes himself off the doorframe and walks over to his lover, wrapping his arms tightly around Yuuji from behind, burying his face in his brat's neck.

No, you don't know, darling. You don't know anything at all. You don't know what you did to me. You don't know how you changed me. You don't know how you move me. How you made me rethink everything I ever thought was true.

You don't know that you taught me love.

You don't know that you became my whole world.

Thank you so much for reading!! This was a short chapter, but I wanted to make the cut here because it is such a big moment!! THE REALIZATION!! THE HONEST LOVE CONFESSION!! I cried once again while writing this. I love how Yuuji feels so comfortable and reassured that to him it is normal for Sukuna to say he loves him. And at the same time, Sukuna is having a huge breakdown because he realizes he isn't playing pretend anymore but is really in love aaaahh!!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

[animejeice]

I got this idea because of a part of Donquixote Doflamingo’s speech in marineford

[Children who’s never known peace have different values from children who’ve never known war]

So yeah we’re doing this.

Chapter 1: Devastation

Warning: death (only in the beginning)

It all happened so fast James didn’t know what to think. All he could see around him were bodies of everyone who lived in the city. Some were crushed, others dismembered, other were given crueler fates. As he stood there wondering why this happened, he heard thundering foots steps approaching.

“Aww, looks like I missed a bug, don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.” - Giant (M)

As the giant’s foot raised over James, all he could do is cry, he couldn’t scream, run, anything. He stood there and watched in horror. Right before the giant set his foot down, a second giant came tackling him to the street before he could even notice her.

“Alright, you and your friends are done for sicko. You’re under arrest” - Giant Cop (F)

A giant police officer pinned the giant down and put him in restraints, another came along to take him away, as he did, she looked over and noticed James standing there crying, not moving.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay now, you’re safe. - hello? Sweety? I know you’re scared but it’s fine. -little guy? -oh no.” - Giant Cop (F)

James was in such a state of shock he couldn’t react to anything, he was as still as a statue, and could’ve been mistaken for one if it wasn’t for the constant tears running down his face. The giant officer grabbed James gently and held him close, he didn’t move an inch. Once she had him safe and secure, she took him back to get him help, knowing he wasn’t alright.

*Later on elsewhere*

“KIDS, COME DOWN, IT’S TIME FOR DINNER” -Mom

“COMING MOM” - Alex

A pre-teen comes walking down a flight of stairs slowly as he approaches a table, there sit 3 plates of food. The father sitting down at the table, and the mother passing the food onto the plates.

“Alex, where’s your sister?” - Dad

“She’s in my hair, where else?” - Alex

Out of his hair a little girl appears, no bigger then the palm of anybody’s hand. She yawns as she arises from the strands of hair and looks around to see lunch being served.

“Well, good morning sweetheart, how was your nap” - Dad

“It was great, Alex’s hair is so soft, i could sleep on it all day and all night” -Lillie

“Maybe we should get rid of your bed then and let you sleep in your brothers hair” -Mom

“HEY, I LIKE MY BED YOU KNOW” -Lillie

Everyone giggles at the conversation before sitting down and getting ready to eat. Alex cups Lillie in both of his hands to bring her down gently so she can eat with them. She’s set onto a section of Alex’s plate where she is given far smaller portions to match with her smaller size.

“So, how was work dad?” - Alex

“It was fine until… i was called to duty, some thugs destroyed an entire human city, there were barely any survivors.” -Dad

“Oh no, those poor people, can you tell us what happened” - Mom

“I can’t discuss details yet, all i can say is… I saw the worst thing today, and I’m disgusted by what they did” - Dad

“What was it?” - Lillie

“It- it was a boy, no older or bigger then you Lillie, he… he was incredibly hurt. His body was fine, nothing damaged… but he looked dead, he wouldn’t react to anything, the giant that almost killed him, the sound of a skyscraper collapsing, the screams of a giant…. Nothing. He… wasn’t all there when we found him.” - Dad

Everyone stayed silent for a minute. To hear a child so mentally destroyed hurt everyone a bit. All anyone could think about was “what if it was Lillie”. They always feared what could happen to her, but never imagined how she would feel if something similar happened to her. Even Lillie, who always seemed courageous no matter what, was even scared to hear those words, nobody said anything for what felt like hours, but was only minutes.

“I think… I think it’s best i get Lillie to bed tonight. Do you mind if she sleeps with me?” -Alex

“I think it would be for the best tonight if she slept with you, you always manage to help her sleep easy.” - Mom

“Night Mom, Night Dad” - Alex and Lillie

“Goodnight my babies” - Mom

“Sleep well kiddos” - Dad

Alex and Lillie went to get changed and go to bed. Samantha and Samuel went to clean up dinner while they’re kids went to bed. After they changed, Alex grabs Lillie and bring her to his bed, where he lays here on one side of his pillow as he lays on the other, and covers them both up with his blanket.

“Bubby, y-you promise you’ll never leave me alone, right? You’ll always be there for me when I need you?” -Lillie

Without hesitation, Alex responds “Of course”, as he knows Lillie only ever calls him “Bubby” when she’s truly scared, she used to call him that when there were loud sounds, it was pitch black in the room, or if she had nightmares, and he would always comfort her since they shared a room for several years. Alex places his hand over Lillie, and she wraps her hands around his thumb to hold like a giant stuffed animal.

“Thank you bubby, night night” - Lillie

“Goodnight Lillie” - Alex

*End of Chapter 1*

Character Ages: (i’ll leave visual interpretations up to you)

James: 7

Alex: 11

Lillie: 7

Samuel (Dad): 31

Samantha (Mom): 29

(For those who want to know)

Giant (M): 26

Giant Cop (F): 35

[harrysxcarolina]

Revenge - Prologue

The air around me is crisp. The wind brushes my loose strands of hair over my eyes and I quickly reach up to push them behind my ear. My feet stand solid on the ground. Frozen in place as I watch everything I know go up in flames. I'm not sure how to feel. I'm uncertain whether I should be happy that all my childhood memories are being erased for me, or if I should feel devastated, heartbroken even that I'm watching all that's left of what once used to be my "happy" family melt away. Making me finally realize that what once was is no longer at reach to me. I would never be able to flip through the old photo albums I had stashed hidden under my floorboard. I would never be able to cling onto the light gray sweater I had shoved deep into my closet again. All the things I loved are now gone. Forced away from me once and for all. There was no more pretending that everything was fine. There was no more wishful thinking that maybe things will change and that things will go back to how they used to be.

All that will be left with me are my haunting memories and the ashes of my childhood. I guess now instead of allowing myself to live in a daydream I am forced to face reality. What will become of me now? Can I get away from this? Can I escape the nightmare I've been trapped in? Will I succumb to what I've tried so hard to avoid, or will I embrace this change and let it alter me into something better? That is if I'm even alive to reach this new undiscovered feeling nestling its way deep inside me. Like I said before... Am I happy? Am I devastated? Or am I just completely useless as I stand here and watch everything finally fall completely out of place?

Standing there as the wind whistles against my ear I let my feet sink further into the soft mud. I am frozen in place. Completely unsure of what is going to happen next, but there is one thing for certain. He's not going to be happy. He is not going to find this amusing. I will be punished. I feel the heat finally reach my body as the flames get hotter, brighter, and bigger. There's nothing left for me to do. I am being forced away as I can't seem to tear my eyes away from the disaster in front of me.

His grip on me becomes tighter as my body is pulled backward making me slightly trip and forcing me to finally look away and turn in the opposite direction. There's no turning back. There's no going back to how things used to be. My feet are forced to continue to take steps away from the only thing I've known. I am completely terrified of what is to come, but I keep quiet as I follow suit into the darkness as we leave everything behind.

I don't dare utter a word as we continue to make our way further into the unknown. His hand is not budging as I'm pulled closer to him. My mind is numb, but my heart aches for what I wish would be different. "I swear Raeelynn if you had anything to do with this." He whispers in a harsh tone as I'm thrown into the back of a car that is waiting at the end of the road.

Bracing myself, my hands catch my fall as I crawl into the backseat. Looking up to meet his stare all I see is dark. I've never seen them this dark. My stomach drops. I go to open my mouth, but quickly shut it as he raises his hand. A hard thud echo's into the small space. My face stings as the aftermath of his hand leaves a mark on my cheek. Tears slowly swell and tease their exit.

"I didn't tell you you could speak." He states as he slams the car door in my face before making his way around the car and jumping in on the passenger side. My hand races up to cup my swollen cheek as I let out a silent cry. Oh, how I wish things were different. Glancing out the window I can only hope that you will come and find me soon. I miss you. I need you. Please come and find me soon.

[jooheonspinky]

From the Ashes 3

Characters: Jungkook x Female reader

Genre: Fantasy!au, angst

Synopsis: I am ready to confess my feelings to Jungkook, but his older brother, a wizard, has other plans. Plans with devastating consequences that I could never have prepared for.

Warnings: various mentions of fire

A/N: This story came about from a dream I had. Actually, two dreams I had last month. You can read them before the story if you'd like. I did have to change a lot in order for it to make a little more sense.

Dream Log 56

Dream Log 57

Part 3

Word Count: 2.8K

A knock at my door brings my head up from the book I’m reading. A glance at my phone tells me it’s just after four in the afternoon. Merrick is visiting home this weekend and is not due back until tomorrow, so it’s not her. Another knock draws me out of my bed to peek through the peephole.

Jungkook?

Hurt wrinkles my brow and has me questioning whether I should open the door, even as a flutter tickles my stomach and makes my heartbeat pick up. I have not spoken to him since the day he came back to life and I took care of him. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. The silent treatment had stung, especially when I thought we had gotten closer that night. I have also been extremely worried since I haven’t seen him in any of our classes, either. A million scenarios have been running through my mind about why he had ghosted me and was no longer showing up in school at all—none of which were good.

Sighing, I pull the door open, quirking a brow at the incredibly handsome young man on the other side of the threshold. Jungkook’s dark hair is split just off center, strands falling forward and flirting with his forehead. A black t-shirt clings to his torso, the material leaving nothing to the imagination as it contours to every ripple and curvature of muscle beneath. The shirt is neatly tucked into a pair of black slacks, a thin strip of red tracing the length of his legs from his hip down the front crease of the pant leg to the cuff. The pant cuffs sit casually over a pair of what I assume are combat boots.

“Hey,” he grins when I don’t say anything, the gesture a bit more timid than I’m used to from him.

I hate that I find it endearing.

“Hello, Jungkook,” I reply dryly.

His smile falters momentarily before his eyes light up giddily, and he gushes, “Look what I can do!”

Instantly, a flame ignites in the center of his palm, and I gasp, yanking him inside my room and slamming the door.

“Are you crazy?!” I whisper-shout as he shakes his hand. The flame goes out, and he looks at me wide-doe eyes filled with a hint of disappointment at my reaction. “You can’t use your powers on school grounds. What if someone saw you?”

“It’s cool,” his shoulders relax as his grin returns to his lips. “Don’t worry, I scoped out the hall first. There was no one there.” I harrumph, my arms crossing over my chest. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t be mad at me,” he pouts.

“Don’t be mad at you?” I purse my lips. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts in about two weeks.” I poke his chest accusatorily. “I haven’t seen you in class. Not even on campus. Dude, what did you think I would be? Ecstatic?!”

He casts his eyes to the floor and rubs his neck sheepishly as he mumbles, “Sheesh, ok. I see what you mean.”

“Jungkook, where have you been? What the hell happened?” I push. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I thought…Shit. I really don’t know what I thought, but I was getting scared. Really, really scared.”

My chin trembles as the realization that he is okay ultimately washes over me. I hate that he’s seeing me like this, eyes glassing over with tears I’m trying so hard to hold back.

“Damn,” he whispers before engulfing me in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

I breathe him in, my cheek pressed into his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my skin, a reminder that he’s here, he’s alive, that he’s ok and soon the rhythm begins to calm me. I hug him tightly as his hand rubs soothingly at my back.

Once I’m confident my urge to cry has entirely subsided, I pull away and tug him to my table. I grab a bottle of water for each of us, and we sit across from one another as we crack them open and take a sip.

“I see you were able to clean up your table,” he comments on my handy work.

“Pft,” I snort. “There was no cleaning that up. I had to sand it down, re-stain it, and seal it. My hands and arms were sore for days.”

“Sorry.”

“Not really your fault, now fill me in,” I bring us back to focus on what he came to talk about. “Did you find out what you are or what other powers you have? Why have you been gone this whole time?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, nodding before he starts. “What I’m about to tell you, cannot leave this room. You have to promise me.”

“OK,” I say earnestly.

“No, I need to hear you say it,” he insists, his face devoid of all humor. “Others’ memories have been erased, and I don’t want that to happen to you. Do you understand? I need someone I can talk to, someone I trust because this is huge, and it’s too much to keep to myself.”

I take in his demeanor. I have never seen Jungkook so solemn, so desperate. Whatever he has to say makes me feel scared, but if it’s too much of a burden for him to carry alone, how could I say no?

“I promise,” I say, sticking my pinky out to him. “I swear that whatever you tell me does not leave this room.”

He wraps his own pinky around mine, and we shake as if this is the most binding of promises.

Leaning back, he inhales deeply before letting it out slowly.

“First of all, I couldn’t contact you because the Dean took my phone. He’s been training me to control my powers. I’m here now because I’ve surprisingly been able to handle them faster than we thought.”

“That’s amazing,” my mouth hangs slightly open at his skill. 

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Second, he told me I’m a phoenix.”

My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

“A phoenix?!” I whisper as I look around, afraid anyone might hear me. “That’s, that’s-,” I search for a word sufficient to encompass what this means. “So rare!” I cringe inwardly at my choice of words but come on. I’m baffled here. “Do you know that only one phoenix exists at a time and that its lifespan is five hundred years!” My eyes widen in wonder. “Holy shit, does that mean you’re gonna live that long?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I have no idea if I will live that long or not. I’m still learning about them…me and, if I’m being honest, it’s a bit terrifying.”

“I’m sure it is,” I sympathize.

“The Dean doesn’t want anyone to know, so as of now, it’s just him and I, along with my parents and now you. That’s it. I’ll be back to class on Monday. As far as what he wants me to tell people? He says to say I’m a fire elemental wizard. So as far as anyone knows, I’m just able to create and manipulate fire.”

“You don’t have to worry about me saying anything,” I remind him. He nods, an appreciative smile curling his lips up. “So, aside from conjuring up fire, is there anything else you can do?”

“We still don’t know the extent of my power, but so far, I’m pretty fast, super strong, I can heal myself and other living things,” he counts off on his fingers. “Oh, and I can do pyroportation!”

“Pyroportation?” I repeat, the word sounding funny on my lips.

“Yeah, this.”

Jungkook hurries over to my bathroom doorway. I watch as flames begin to lick up his legs, the spectacle occurring so quickly that I barely have time to react. My chair screeches across the stone flooring as I stand abruptly. 

“What the f-.”

The exclamation lodges in my throat as a blast of heat brings my attention to my left. Jungkook reappears in a whoosh of fire that dies away just as quickly as it had started.

Not one hair on the man is out of place as he grins widely at me.

“Cool, right?”

“Cool?” I feel hysteria bubbling forth in the form of laughter. “Oh yeah, so cool,” I manage between giggles.

He is going to give me a heart attack with all these changes. Recognizing I’m losing my shit, Jungkook walks over to hug me. 

“I’m ok, see?” he assures me as he tilts my chin up so I can meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you. This is new to me, too, ya know.”

“It just reminded me of that night, is all,” I admit quietly, now that the need to laugh has passed. “I really thought I’d never see you again. I really thought it was too late.”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s not too late for anything.” The words settle reassuringly around me. “Why did you want to see me that night, Y/N?” he probes, his voice lowering, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

I glance away, my heart galloping a trillion miles an hour now. It had seemed like such a great idea to confess my feelings two weeks ago to him. Now? Now, it just seems so trivial after all that has happened.

I swallow thickly before looking back up at him. “I…just…” I squeeze my eyes tightly, pushing through the fear of possible rejection. I let the words slip through in a rush as I open my eyes. “I just want to let you know that I like you. As in, like you like you. More than just a friend. There. I said it.”

He tries to hide an amused smile but fails terribly. 

“Was that really so hard?” he teases.

“Ugh!” I groan in embarrassment and try to untangle myself from his embrace.

His hold tightens, and it now feels like more than just a friendly gesture, my senses becoming hyperaware of our proximity. The flirtatious tilt of his lips and his heavy-lidded eyes have hope sparking in my chest. When his head begins to lower, I instantly stop resisting, anticipation locking me in place. 

His lips press against mine, lips soft as the petals of a rose, and I melt into him as my eyes flutter shut. He coaxes my lips apart, his tongue entering to lick into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. It’s slow, sensual, and filled with so much gentleness my entire body flushes with warmth. When we pull away, our breaths are heavy as our gazes lock, the both of us searching each other's eyes.

“You really should have said something sooner,” Jungkook chuckles, his low, husky voice making my whole body tingle. “That was really nice.”

I lean up on my tippy toes, hovering a breath away from his mouth. “You could have said something,” I point out, dropping a quick kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, I could have,” he allows. “But I’m shy.”

I side-eye him, “Shy my ass.”

Jungkook laughs at my sass.

“So, I didn’t just come here to fill you in on what’s been going on with me,” he sobers up. “I wanted to know if you would go with me to see my brother today.” My mouth hangs open in surprise. “I know,” his hand cups my cheek. “I know what he did to you, but…I need to talk to him, and I need you there.”

The thought of seeing his brother makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He had turned me into something that could not help Jungkook when I thought he was going to die. He made me feel so vulnerable and powerless. I never want to feel like that ever again.  

Even still, it’s difficult not to give in to the pleading in Jungkook’s dark, large rounded eyes. 

“I’ll go with you,” I nod.

“Yeah?” one corner of his lips turning up.

“Of course.”

He plants a pleased kiss on my mouth, whispering, “Thank you.” I can’t help but giggle. “We should go now before visitation is over.”

“Now?” I can’t keep the surprise from my tone.

He sighs, “It’s something I really need to do, and I just want to get it over with.”

“I get it,” I reassure him. “Just give me a few minutes to change, and we’ll head out.”

I grab a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a red long-sleeved v-neck top. I quickly change, fix my hair, and apply light makeup and perfume.  I’m on my futon, tying up the laces to my red high-tops 15 minutes later.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

The Dean escorts us to the cells below ground in the campus's main building. It’s a bit antiquated; this building section looks more like a dungeon than a modern jail cell. 

“He has a power-inhibiting ward surrounding his cell,” the Dean informs us. “Take care not to get too close, just in case. I’ll leave you to it, but bear in mind that I will be locking up in thirty minutes.”

Jungkook nods, and I stop him before he moves on.

“I’m going to stay here; it’s not far from his cell,” I tell him. “I’m just not ready to confront him, but if you need me…”

“I understand.” He steps into me, caressing my cheek with his thumb before brushing his lips against mine. “Just knowing you’re nearby will help.”

He kisses me again before stalking down the passageway lined with cells on either side. He passes about three doors before he stops and faces the right.

“Hyung.” His voice rings clearly up the hall, making it feel like I’m standing beside them. 

Pale hands encircle the iron bars separating the two men. 

“How are you here?!” hisses the older man. “I saw you die.”

I was right. He could see through my eyes when I was the raven. The rage is palpable even from where I am, and I wonder how strong the wards really are. Fear settles in my stomach, making me queasy as I watch, ready to intervene if anything goes wrong. Jungkook’s face scrunches as he stares his brother down.

“That’s what you have to say?” he spits out in disgust. “Your baby brother is standing here, alive and well, and you really are disappointed?” He scoffs, hurt written all over him.

“You are a useless human!” he grits out. “Yet our parents dote all over you, casting me aside as if I was some vile creature. Well, I was only trying to prove them right.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Wow. To think I looked up to you.”

“What?” I can hear the shock hidden beneath the uninterested tone he was trying to give off.

“Hyung, did you seriously not know?” Jungkook’s brows pinch as he gazes earnestly into his brother’s eyes. “You were so amazing to me. My older brother, that could do magic, was so good in school and loved to tinker on cars. I followed you everywhere I could because I loved learning from you, being around you. I love you, hyung. Dammit, even after what you did, I still fucking love you!”

Tears well up in my eyes as I listen to his heartbreaking declaration. There is complete silence for a moment, and I can only hold my breath as I wait for his brother to say something, anything, to alleviate the ache in Jungkook’s heart.

“Well,” his brother cracks his neck, and even from where I stand, I see just the slightest hint of regret in how he turns his face. But it’s brief. “What’s done is done. You’ll continue being the parents’ golden boy while I rot here.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Is it really that hard to admit that you fucked up and you do care about me? Even a little bit?

“Don’t kid yourself,” comes his retort. “Now leave me be and NEVER come back here again!”

“Oh, I’ll go,” Jungkook vows as he straightens to full height, hands fisted. “But I will be back, hyung, and I will continue to come back until I get through to you.”

His brother throws his head back in laughter, amused at his younger brother’s words.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” he cackles, drying non-existent tears from the corners of his eyes.

Jungkook huffs, storming off, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing a molten orange and gold. I grab for his hand as he reaches me, and I can feel its warmth as if he’s starting to lose control.

“Breathe,” I say soothingly. “Just breathe.” I cup his cheek, bringing his attention to me. The fire in his eyes dims as his shoulders loosen a little. Even the warmth coming from his body cools some. “There you go. It’s OK.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, scooping his face down to kiss me firmly. “Let’s get out of here.”

We make our way out of the building. Outside, the night air is crisp, and I lean into his side, soaking up his body warmth. Jungkook drapes an arm across my shoulders, tucking me in closer to him.

“You ok?” I query, albeit a bit hesitant.

He looks down at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Or I will be. I’m not giving up on my brother; despite what he did, I know he’s not evil. He can change. He will change. You’ll see.”

He says it so fervently that he even makes me want to believe him. Whatever happens and however long it takes for Jungkook to convince his brother to be good, I’ll be right by his side, helping him along the way.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

I hope you enjoyed Part 3, the final part. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

01|02|03|

Moodboard by me

Image credits

Smoke

Fire

Jungkook 1 and 2

Flame in hand

Fire and Sparks

[kshira]

—kink comfort

w// satori tendou & tooru oikawa

i’ve decided to write a comforting wip about the acceptance of kinks with two of the best boys <3

t//w: 18+, smutty, f!reader, comfort w/ heavy smut undertones & cursing

erotic asphyxiation (ea)— a type of sexual activity involving intentionally cutting off the air supply to you or ones partner with choking, suffocating, and other acts.

｡｡｡

tendou’s crimson eyes meet yours as his long fingers take a tighter hold around your throat, his body boils over at the helpless gust of air flowing from your pretty lips.

he loves the feeling of taking control of your oxygen levels, knowing the tighter the grip the more you gasp and moan for more but while he pushes your head deeper in the bed his eyes drift past your facade and into the eyes of the person that deemed him more than any scary monster.

your eyes on the other hand roll back in your head, letting the feel of his fingers laced like a necklace around you fuel you and make you gush more around his thick cock embedded in you.

“satori choke me harder please” you whine waking him up from his thoughts, tendou gazes down to you watching tears roll on your cheeks and the saliva dried on your face becoming wet once more.

“i’m so disgusting” he utters loosening his grip and pulling away from you “how could i do this to someone i love so much, i really am a fucking monster” tendou pulls his dick out of you and sits up on the bed burrying himself in his hands, a tiny sob follows through his fingers.

you pause all motion watching tendou cry, he’s so helpless cradling his own body while he plays the years in his mind of your body painted with his cum and his fingers bruised on your throat over and over.

“baby” you whisper, your fingertips graze his soft skin chilled with drying sweat and accompanied with a low vibration from his weeping.

tendou can’t make eye contact with you, not with the amount of insecurity finally settling in his bones and the feeling of his mistreatment towards someone he loved so so much.

“i’m sorry for hurting you—fuck just look at your neck, i don’t know why i have to do this to get off i just—“ he pauses to wince at you coming closer to him, your tits still perked from the lust entanglement and those bright red bruises staring back at him.

you tilt his face up to you with one single finger, never ceasing the comfort in your eyes, the shame that embodies him now makes it hard to word what you want to tell him.

you’re reminded the first time he linked his hands around your throat as you bounced on his dick one night, the way his eyes glowed with power and sex as he pressed down harder making you a creaming mess around him.

while it brought blackness around your eyes as the subtle oxygen left your precious mouth the aftermath of tendou cutely holding you flush to him, whispering praises of how well you did and the never ending “i love you”—that’s all you ever needed to know it was okay, what he did was okay and it is normal.

“satori your hands are too pretty to not be wrapped around something, i’m just lucky it happens to be around my throat” you grin at him watching tendou let a sly smile slip through his worrisome soul.

“oh really?” tendou smirks, neatly wrapping his fingers around your delicate throat and pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

degradation—the act of degrading someone during sexual act, for the pleasure of the degrader as well as the degradee.

｡｡｡

“look at how much of a slut you are, full of my cum yet you want more begging to be filled again just like a bitch in heat” oikawa mocks from above you throwing your legs over his shoulder to rut deeper in your cunt.

his tongue is toxic spitting disgusting words at you, your pussy clenching at every slur he throws at you makes him want to go even further.

the vile and lewd sounds echo through the room while oikawa takes deep strokes in your messy hole, you begin to protest the speed but oikawa clicks his tongue “awh does the whore want to stop now? i thought you wanted to be my cocksleeve, i could just fuck your sister instead if you want to be this way”.

“ah! toru! g-gonna cum soon!” you reach down to circle your swollen clit but oikawa grabs your hand and raises it up to his lips, you brush off the sweet signal until you feel water dripping on your face.

confusion clouds you, making you look up to see oikawa with tears falling from his flushed cheeks and his thousand yard stare boring right in you.

“tooru? baby? what’s wrong? are you okay?” you’re so worried watching oikawa cry helplessly, his body trembling so much it starts to vibrate the bed—he was breaking apart right above you—his soft dick still in you.

“you’re just going to let me talk to you like this? i just said i’d fuck your sister for gods sake, what the fuck is wrong with me?” you immediately push his head into the crock of your neck, swiping comforting circles on his bare muscled back.

“because you like it and there is nothing wrong with that” oikawa grips the mattress under you listening to you reassure him, his anger bubbling up inside him.

“stop! stop trying to make this better, aren’t you listening to what i’ve been saying?” oikawa pulls away from your hold, his lip quivering as he thinks of the times he called you every name in the book and you always came right on command from it.

your hand softly trails up to caress oikawa’s cheek rubbing at the salty stains, his eyes dressed in shame watch you closely as you snake your other hand through his chocolate strands—soothing him mostly but ultimately you want to give him a silent it’s okay.

it reminds you of the first time when oikawa degraded you while he rose above you, his hips colliding into yours as your sloppy cunt throbbed for more of him but the over use of his fingers, tongue and even his dick couldn’t make you cum for him—so you thought.

“you dirty fucking slut you can’t cum for me one more time? you were doin’ it pretty easy earlier, maybe i should invite our sweet iwa-can over so he can watch you be fucked like the whore you are” oikawa sneered, his eyes flickering with lust and excitement.

you gasp out a moan, clenching around oikawa as the disgusting tainted words ignite the lingering coil in your stomach to burst without any hesitation—you’re left a creaming mess filled with oikawa’s cum in the aftermath.

words meant to destroy someone even demean their entire existence and it left you wanting more.

“shit— i’m so sorry i don’t know what came over me, i just wanted you to cum so bad i thought i’d— are you okay?” oikawa tilts over you gently, darting his anxious orbs anywhere he can place them on you.

from that day on he got filthier for every word he spat out and your cunt got messier every single time.

“you think i’d be with you if all we did is have vanilla sex? it’s devastating to hear a pretty boy with such a dirty mouth.” you smile at oikawa, placing a kiss on his neck and reassuring him once again that what he likes is completely normal.

“oh you little slut, you really do know how to make me hard.” oikawa pins you back down to fill that messy hole of yours once again.

[unwilling-souls-if]

I offer you this angst:

what if MC lost their wings to save the ROs? <3

ANGST STRIKES AGAIN. Really love the focus on the wings though, kinda cute how both fluffy and angsty asks like them <3

CW: blood, severed limb

Xander: No. It was supposed to be him. If anyone deserved to go through this, it was him. Not you— never you.

He's devastated, but he tries to appear strong for you. He wants to be there and shoulder you when you go through one of the greatest losses of your lives, because of him.

It's his fault if you're crying and bleeding in his arms. It's his fault if you claw at your back, where the few remaining feathers drip crimson all over your skin. He feels sick to the stomach when the warm liquid stains his hands.

"I'm sorry," Xander says softly. "So, so sorry."

He really has to ruin it all, doesn't he?

Charlotte is horrified, reaching out for you with a trembling hand. You saved her. But the price you paid...

"You shouldn't have," she whispers with a heavy voice. "I don't deserve this."

You smile sadly, an easy shrug moving your shoulders.

"Of course you do. You're everything."

Charlotte's face falls, because why are you comforting her when you're the one hurt? A silence passes as she grabs your arm to guide you onto the nearest surface to sit on.

"I'll patch you up."

"As usual," you laugh, and it turns into a cough.

"It's not funny," Charlotte whines, tears in her voice threatening to spill. You know it's not funny, but she looks like she's about to break down and you have to distract her. She's too freaked out to notice.

"For Heaven's sake, Name, I love you! I can't bear to see you hurt because--" her voice breaks. "...because of me."

Dione: Her brain goes overdrive. Her body shuts down. Dione can not comprehend what you did. Truth is, she could have been fine. She could have avoided that blow, could have saved her own skin.

But you took it instead. She runs to you, slaying whichever enemy is in her way. Nothing, no one will ever harm you again. She swears it as she cradles you, her wings shielding you from the battlefield. Her sword lies, abandoned, on the ground.

She does not want to fight anymore. She wants to cry, to hurl insults at the world for being so cruel.

"I'm fine," you rasp.

"You filthy fucking liar," she answers right back, glaring tearfully at you.

You snort weakly, tucking back a strand of her hair. She clenches her jaw. She will be cruel, too. She'll find whoever threw the attack first. And she will make their body and soul suffer until every atom of theirs begs and cries for mercy. But they didn't show mercy to you, did they? She won't show it to them either.

Perceval: Once again, xe're too late. They hit the ground with force, catching your falling body before you crash. Their strong arms close around you to protect you from the flying debris.

Xe know xe're too late. Xe can feel it in the way your body tenses. Feathers float around the two of you and fall slowly to the ground. Your eyes meet xyrs and tears form in both of your eyes.

Perceval's chest heaves and xe bring you closer.

"I can heal you, we can bring you to Majid, he'll know how to..."

"Pierce," you plead. "It's done."

Perceval doesn't answer and rests xyr forehead against yours. Each breath one of you takes is felt by the other. You stay silent for a bit, mourning the loss of your wings. But Perceval is alive. Xe're alive.

Xe never break off eyes contact, and you can see all xyr emotions swirling around their golden eyes. Shame, fear, sadness. Gratitude, love.

"Let's get you safe," xe finally say.

They hit their foot on the ground to propel xemself in the air, their wings spreading wide open. Yours will never do that again.

Crescent: "NO!" the scream tears itself from their throat and they taste blood. In the next moment, they're next to you, kneeling next to your shaking form.

The blow should have hit them, not you, but you had to go and save them. Why did you have to save them?

Crescent's mouth is dry and they pant with bubbling panic. There is too much blood on you, but they can see the severed nerves and bones and their heart sinks. Your wings can't be healed.

They breathe through their nose, trying to keep their emotions under wrap. They pick you up gently from the ground, careful not to apply pressure on your back, and carry you away from the mess. Their jaw is clenched, eyes burning with fury.

Crescent's wings didn't matter to them— they were useless and they would have gladly traded them for your life. But someone took yours away from you, tore your body down, stole the pride of every Soul Trapper.

Crescent will raise Hell in your name. But for now, they'll stay by your side, taking care of the one person who risked their all for them.

---

Thank you so much for the (deliciously angsty) ask <3

[cacoetheswriting]

hell or high water

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings: angst, possible tfatws spoilers, swearing, dealing with emotions / comforting, mutual pining, a lil fluff, & mentions of john walker [yes, i’m adding that as a warning] word count: 1.5k summary: unexpected, and rather devastating news, bring you and bucky together.

-

The calm before the storm - a period of unusual tranquillity and stability that often foreshadowed grave and difficult times.

The calm before the storm. That’s how you would describe what was happening during this moment, as you propped yourself up on the chair, silently observing Bucky for any sort of reaction to the breaking headline currently being shared on every single news channel.

John Walker. The new Captain America.

Bucky’s face was blank, although by now you’ve gotten to know him well enough to understand what the expression, or lack thereof, meant. He was irritated - no - he was fucking pissed. And truthfully, he had every right to be.

“I liked that what I was doing would make people feel safe. Steve Rogers was the kind of guy who could do that, he gave me hope. Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” John Walker’s voice sounded through the shitty speakers.

Bucky’s heart sank at the words. He smacked his lips together and exhaled.

“Hey, uhm… are you okay?” You asked in a hushed tone, eyes glued to the side of his face, nervously chewing down on your bottom lip. It was a really stupid question since you already knew the answer. Of course he wasn’t okay. Far from it, actually. In your eyes however, it was always better to check anyway. 

Especially since the man sitting on the cool ground only an arms length away from you wasn’t one to open up freely.

Bucky grunted in response, followed by a deep sigh.

“Just… peachy.” He huffed, before switching the tv off and sliding a hand down his face, wiping away any lone tears that may have escaped.

His response caused your heart to clench inside of your chest. You wanted to ease any pain the unexpected news caused him, but you weren’t exactly sure how. You felt extremely helpless, and from where you sat you could tell he was feeling the exact same - however, for different reasons.

His powerlessness was primarily fueled by anger.

And Bucky was aware the dangerous emotions circulating through his veins was undoubtedly stemming from heartbreak. Sorrow for everything he lost. Grief for the only family he had left.

Prior to meeting you, Steve was the only person that accepted him for who he was. Cherished him despite the many flaws and mistakes he’s made over the years. The only person in this whole damn universe who could easily separate him from his dark and troubled past. The only person who didn’t just see him as The Winter Soldier, a ruthless killing machine.

No.

Prior to meeting you, Steve was the only person who truly and earnestly believed Bucky was a good person.

And now Bucky had to witness Captain America being formally replaced. As if Steve Rogers was nothing. As if he meant nothing.

Which is why, as the dark-haired man stared at his own hollow reflection in the blank television screen, he was glad you entered his life when you did.

His gaze trailed to the outline of your silhouette and a small smile circled his lips. Knowing that you were here for him. Knowing that it was no longer only Steve who wholeheartedly believed he was genuine and kind… He felt better.

You could see him looking at you through the black display. You could see the miniscule smile present on his features, and you couldn’t help but return the expression.

Soon enough you were up on your feet, gracefully moving from the rather uncomfortable chair to the even more uncomfortable floor next to Bucky. You placed your head on his shoulder and his whole body instantly relaxed at your proximity, at your gentle and soothing touch. His eyes locked with yours through the monitor and you could clearly make out the gratitude, the adoration.

Yes. For a brief moment, a split second, Bucky felt better.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, bringing your knees closer to your chest and wrapping one arm tightly around to hold them in place. “I’m sorry this is happening. I know it’s not what you wanted, and… I know it’s now what Steve wanted.”

“Don’t apologise.” Bucky was quick to contravene.

You just shrugged, your head still resting against him. “Well, the people that made this decision, the people that should apologise most definitely won’t, and it seems like something you need to hear. A simple apology.”

He huffed lightly, once again feeling grateful he had someone like you to ground him. God, if you weren’t here… No. No. He stopped himself and shook the disturbing thoughts away. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because you were here, and you weren’t going anywhere.

He swallowed.

But he was. He had no other choice.

“I- uh… I need to go, y/n. I need to find Sam. I need to talk to him and get some answers.”

“I know.” You stated simply, however there was a detectable hint of sadness in the tone of your voice. Bucky picked up on it immediately and he shifted in his position, so that he was now looking down at you.

His gaze burned into the side of your skull, lip quivering as he searched his mind for what to say next because he hated this. Hated it came to this. And you hated it too.

You began to feel guilty. If you weren’t in his life, he wouldn’t have this problem. He wouldn’t have you to worry about. He wouldn’t need to explain himself. There would be nothing holding him back.

Fuck, you thought, life was just starting to get easier.

Swallowing the growing lump at the back of your throat, you mustered up enough courage to face him. The amiable look in his eyes caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter momentarily.

“But you’ll come back.” It wasn’t a request. It was a fact. Corners of your lips twirled into a timid smile, yet all Bucky could focus on were the tears you were trying really hard to fight back.

Slowly, he nodded his head. How could he not come back? All you did these last few months was make him a little bit happier. He could only dream to one day return the favour, because as smart as Bucky Barnes was, he had no idea he already made you the happiest you’d ever been.

“I’ll come back.” He reassured.

“Alive.”

He chuckled softly before repeating, “Alive.”

Lifting your hand, you tenderly brushed your fingers down his cheek and across his jawline. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he leaned into your touch. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Because as you held his face in the palm of your hand while he studied every inch of yours, the uncertainty of when you would see each other again gradually settling in, you realised you’ve never been this close to one another.

You thought perhaps you should pull back, that this was a little too close for comfort, but you found yourself unable to move. Frozen. Completely captivated by the handsome man situated in front of you.

It should have felt weird, the intimacy of the moment. It should have felt weird. Why, why didn’t it feel weird? Bucky was your neighbour. He was your friend. There was nothing else to your relationship. Nothing… more.

But as you stared deeply into his eyes, taking note of the warm expression he was presenting as he continued to scan your face, the air hitched in your throat. 

It felt natural.

Bucky sensed it too. He sensed the change in the atmosphere around the two of you. Unfamiliar, yet not unwelcoming. Quite the opposite actually. It drew him in. He found himself slowly leaning in, and like a magnet, you followed suit.

When his mouth eventually slanted over yours, your heart skipped a beat.

The kiss was gentle at first, as if Bucky was indicating you could stop him at any given time, if you wanted too. It wouldn’t take much to push him away and end this now. But you didn’t want to stop him. Instead, you closed your eyes at the desirable sensation igniting every single cell in your body.

Any boundary the two of you had previously unspokenly set was crossed, broken. However, it didn’t seem to matter to either of you.

The hand previously cupping Bucky’s cheek, was now gripping at his hair. Both of his hands were now holding your waist - not applying too much pressure, but making it known that they were there.

You wanted to comment how he very rarely touched you with his metal arm, always weary that he may somehow hurt you, and now he was latched onto you in a way that suggested he would never let you go, but his tongue wound its way between your parted lips, breaking you away from your thoughts.

After what felt like a blissful eternity, you pulled away simultaneously. Equally flushed and equally breathless. Smiling at one another like a couple of love-struck idiots.

“Hmm.. We can continue this when you’re back.” You whispered against his puffed lips, before pecking them softly.

Bucky smirked. He lifted his right arm and gently brushed loose strands of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t you worry, y/n.” He began, “Come hell or high water, I’ll definitely be back.”

-

masterlist

[snelbz]

The Return {The Arrival, Part 2}

Summary: Back at the lake house, ten years later... Collaboration with @tacmc.

Word Count: 6402

The Arrival Series Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

10 years later….

“Every year,” Nesta began, shaking her head as they drove up the long, winding driveway. “Every year, we are the last people here.”

With a roll of his eyes as he put the truck in park, Cassian got out and shut the driver’s side door behind him. Once again, he had the boat, which the others, who had surely arrived hours before, were most likely waiting for.

They needed a getaway.

As of the month before, Cassian had three times the responsibilities at work. Add two teenage boys and a ten year old that thought she was far older than she was, Cassian was exhausted. He knew Nesta was, too, and when she got out of the car to leave the boys to their bickering, Cassian knew she was feeling that exhaustion, deep.

She looked over at him and he gave her a smile, which she immediately returned before opening up the back door and giving her first order of the vacation. “Thorn. John. Bags inside. Now.”

John groaned as Thorn muttered, “I’m eighteen, I shouldn’t even be here.”

Cassian knew Nesta was biting her tongue as she told Scarlett to follow her around back to find Nesta and Elain.

Cassian shot Thorn and John a look that shut them both up as he heard, “Boys giving you a hard time?”

He looked over his shoulder to find his oldest niece, and smiled. “Hey, Lunabug. Where the hell are the rest of your pants?”

Luna looked down at her cutoff shorts before snorting and giving her uncle a hug. “First of all, watch your mouth. Second of all, these were eighty bucks, so be nice.”

Cassian hesitated. “Eighty… Your dad let you spend eighty bucks on a scrap of denim?”

“It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Cass,” Luna said, ignoring the question altogether.

As he unloaded the rest of the bags and hopped back in the truck to pull it around back, Nesta found Feyre and Elain just where she expected to: tanning on the back deck.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Feyre crooned, raising her sunglasses to look up at her older sister.

The glare Nesta gave to Feyre told her if her daughter wasn’t feet behind her, she’d be giving her a very vulgar gesture.

“Hi, Scarlett,” Elain smiled, ignoring the silent bickering between her sisters. “You ready for a fun weekend?”

“Yes ma’am,” she replied, her manners nearly as impeccable as Luna’s. “Where is Layla?”

“In the bonus room with the twins,” Feyre said, letting her sunglasses drop back into place as she laid down on her chair. “They brought a bunch of makeup, so I’m pretty sure it’s makeover time.”

Scarlett’s eyes were bright as she smiled up at her mother and hurried into the house.

“Where are the boys?” Nesta asked, stealing Feyre’s drink and downing half of it in one large drink.

Feyre snatched it back, with a muttered, “Bitch,” as Elain shook her head and pointed to the dark haired brood on the docks.

“They’ve been swimming while they waited on Uncle Cass to show up with the boat.”

“Not only do I have Thorn and John to deal with, I’ve also got Little Miss Drama Queen herself to get ready and in the truck,” Nesta said, eyeing Feyre’s drink again. “Plus Cassian. But I gave up on wrangling him years ago.”

Elain shook her head as Feyre snorted. “And Thorn is too much a spitting image of Cass, is that the issue?”

Nesta shook her head, plopping down in a lawn chair opposite of them. “Thorn wants his independence, but he also wants me to cook his food, do his laundry, and clean up after him. That’s Thorn’s issue. And John wants to do everything his cool, adult big brother does. Which annoys Thorn.”

“He’s eighteen now,” Elain said, sighing. “Our husbands were no different at that age. Wanting to be men, but too immature to handle themselves.”

“They’re still too immature to handle themselves,” Feyre mumbled, which made them all laugh.

Her sisters - they were exactly what Nesta needed.

They watched as Cassian drove down to the dock and lowered the boat into the water. Bennett and Lannan were there, swimming, and the eldest helped Cassian guide the boat in and tie it up. Lannan helped, too, but being only ten, his judgement wasn’t the most trustworthy.

The sliding door was pushed open and Azriel wandered out, the top of his hair combed back, and sporting a hot pink lipgloss, which he was attempting to wipe off with a tissue. “Shit, this stuff stains.”

Elain arched a brow as she caught sight of her husband. “I kind of like it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but there was no denying the small smile that appeared on his lips.

“It’s a good look,” Feyre agreed, to which Azriel rolled his eyes.

“It’s better than the alternative,” he sighed. “They wanted to recreate a look they saw on YouTube, but were devastated when they realized the signal wasn't strong enough to play a full video in HD.”

“What a travesty,” Elain gasped, faking her horror.

“Thorn is going to hate that,” Nesta snickered. “He may not be able to FaceTime his girlfriend.”

“He’ll live,” Cassian announced, jogging up the porch. “Spending three days focused on his family is good. The kid needs it.”

“The kid needs a kick in the ass,” Nesta muttered, and motioned for Cassian to come closer. He did so, climbing onto her chair and nestling himself between her legs. “But I love him, like I love you.”

Cassian hummed and kissed her, softly.

“My god, what do your kids think when you do this at home?” Feyre asked.

“They’re used to it by now, I’m sure,” Azriel mumbled.

“Absolutely,” Cassian mumbled, before kissing his wife, again.

“Party’s here!” Rhysand came around the corner of the house, carrying two cases of beer. He repeated the same thing his wife had said, looking at Cassian and Nesta. “It’s about time you joined us.”

“Blame the kids,” Nesta said, her arms wrapping around Cassian’s broad shoulders.

“Speaking of the kids, tell them to get ready,” Rhysand said, dropping the cases of beer on the porch. “As soon as these are in the fridge, we’re starting up the boat.”

“I don’t want to go on the boat.”

They all spun around to find Thorn, his phone in the air as he tried to find signal. “Can I have the keys to the truck?”

Cassian scoffed. “Hell, no.”

“I have to run into town,” Thorne said, stubbornly.

“You can tell Marion that you’ll call her when you can,” Nesta said, calmly.

“This isn’t about Marion,” Thorn argued - a complete lie, and they all knew it. “We don’t have anything to drink. We just have water, juice boxes, and alcohol. And, unless you want me to break into the beer-.”

“Try and see what happens,” Cassian warned.

Thorn rolled his eyes, and even though he was the spitting image of Cassian, the look was so much like Nesta that Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take Luna and Bennett. They’re trustworthy,” Thorn pushed.

Cassian looked at Azriel and Rhysand, who shrugged.

“Fine. Be back in an hour,” he said, and dug the keys out of his pocket before tossing them to his oldest son.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and went back inside.

“You know we have drinks in the cooler in the garage, right,” Feyre asked, rolling her eyes as Rhys got a warm beer out of the case and popped it open.

“I figured,” Nesta said. “But Thorn would do nothing but complain the whole time on the boat and would, in fact, break into the beer if we left him here. Might as well let him go have a little freedom before dinner.”

“And if he takes Ben and Luna, he’ll be less likely to get into trouble,” Cassian added, even as Rhys and Az gave each other disbelieving looks.

“Luna, yes, but Bennett is as likely to get him into trouble as he is to get him out,” Rhys admitted.

Feyre finished off her drink and said to her sisters, “Why did we procreate with these idiots? It made our kids idiots.” She stood and said, “I need a refill.”

Elain stood and grabbed her empty glass as well. “Speak for yourself, my kids are all honors students and make good choices.”

Cassian groaned as Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, your prized children are the exception to our hooligans. Now, I’m going to put on a swimsuit and tell the girls to do the same.”

Cassian watched her as she left.

He, Azriel, and Rhysand threw beer into the cooler as they heard Thorn, Bennett, and Luna speed away in Cassian’s truck.

“They’re going to do something stupid,” Rhysand mumbled.

“Don’t drag Luna into this,” Azriel countered, carrying the cooler down the hill to the boat.

“She’s already been dragged, bud,” Cassian said, clapping a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Now we just pray that they return in one piece.”

*

“Where are they?” Elain sighed. “We’re not even going to get on the water before the sun goes down.”

“They were finishing their makeovers,” Feyre said, sipping from a glass of wine by the island. “Lily said they’ll be down soon.”

“Aunt Feyre,” Layla’s little voice called from the top of the stairs. “Can you come here for a minute?”

As one, the sisters looked at each other.

“This can’t be good,” Feyre sighed, taking another drink from her wine glass and heading for the stairs.

Nesta and Elain followed, and they could all hear the frantic, panicked words before they even topped the stairs.

“It wasn’t supposed to look like that! You should have followed the tutorial.”

“I can’t. I couldn’t watch the TikTok to make sure I was doing it right.”

“What happened?” Feyre said, pushing the door open and freezing.

Layla and Scarlett were sitting on the couch against the far wall, caked makeup on both of their faces, but the twins were sitting at the desk, a mirror in front of them. A long strand of Lily’s hair laid on the desk in front of them, and she had a pair of safety scissors in her hands.

“Don’t be mad,” Lily said, locking eyes with Feyre in the mirror.

Crossing her arms and leaning on the door frame, Feyre smirked. “Why would I be mad, it’s not my hair that got chopped.”

True enough, Lily’s hair looked far differently than it had the last time her mother had seen her. A fourth of her head looked like it had received a very dreadful bowl cut, while the rest of her hair remained the same, hanging halfway down her back.

She stared in the mirror in horror as Olive tried her best to style her twin. “I mean, it’s not so…bad.”

“I’m going to start freshman year looking like…” Lily’s hands slowly covered her mouth as she stifled a quiet sob.

“It’s not so bad,” Olive repeated, a little more convincingly. “It just needs…some product…”

“It looks like I took a knife to my bangs!”

“Bangs?” Nesta repeated. “Is that what you were going for?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett said, answering her mother in favor of her cousin. “They told her to on Tik Tok.”

“Oh, Lily,” Elain breathed, trying to hide her quiet laughter.

“This is a disaster!” Lily said, covering her entire face.

Feyre sighed and stepped up behind her daughter, resting her hands on her shoulders. “We’ll go see Aunt Mor and get it fixed when we get home. There’s still some time before school starts for it to grow in, and I’m sure Aunt Mor can work her magic. Okay?”

Lily sniffled and nodded.

“Come on, girls,” Nesta said, holding a hand out for Scarlett and Layla. “Let’s go get ready to go on the boat for a bit before dinner.”

“And you, Lily. We’ll find you a hat to wear,” Feyre said, dropping a kiss to the top of Lily’s head. “You, too, Livy.”

“Olive,” she snapped. “It’s Olive.”

With a heavy sigh, Feyre said, “I’m sorry, you’re right. Olive, my apologies. You girls go get changed and meet us on the dock, please.”

Elain and Nesta headed down the stairs, Feyre on their heels, but they waited until they got onto the back porch before looking at her.

“What was that?” Elain asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked at her.

“That is new,” Feyre sighed. “For whatever reason, we can’t call her anything but Olive. Liv, Livy, she’s not having it. It’s immature.”

“So, if I call her Livy, the name that I’ve called her since birth, she’s going to snap at me?” Nesta asked. “Yeah, I’m not going to call her Olive. It’s weird.”

“Well, it is the name on her birth certificate,” Feyre said, laughing.

Nesta shrugged. “Details.”

Elain agreed that it was weird, and they were still talking about it as Scarlett and Layla ran onto the deck, ready in their swimsuits, then down to the docks where their dads and Lannan were waiting. The twins were close behind, Olive still moody and Lily covering her hair with a hat.

When Rhysand questioned why she was wearing a beanie with a swimsuit on a boat, they all told him to mind his own business.

“Where is Luna?” Lannan asked, looking towards the house, as if his big sister might appear out of nowhere.

“She went with Thorn and Bennett into town. They aren’t coming on the boat, but they’ll be home before dinner,” Elain promised, which earned a pout from Lannan. Even though they were years apart, the two were still extremely close and it warmed Elain’s heart.

After an hour or so on the boat, the sun had begun its slow descent, and they headed back in.

“Everyone go get washed up while we make dinner,” Rhys announced. With a smirk, he added, “No impromptu haircuts.”

Lily’s beanie had fallen off during one of their faster rides and Rhysand tried not to laugh.

He really did.

He did not succeed.

“Dad!” She cried, hurrying up the deck stairs and rushing towards the house. “It’s not funny!”

As soon as she was in the house, he muttered to Azriel, “It’s pretty damn funny.”

Elain went into the house to start the food, but came back out a few minutes later. “The kids aren’t back yet. They were supposed to be back by now.”

“I’ll try calling Bennett,” Rhys said, heading into the house and going to their room. A few minutes later, he joined them in the kitchen. “No answer. Have y’all heard from them?”

“No,” Elain said, shaking her head. She looked at Azriel, concern written on her face. “And it’s not like Luna to go so long without checking in.”

Azriel frowned. “I’m sure they’re fine, Lainy. I’m sure they’re just being teenagers.”

Even he didn’t believe himself.

Cassian swore. “I’m sure Thorn was leading the way. He’s-.”

They could hear a car pulling into the driveway, and all six adults turned their heads toward the sliding door, waiting.

Luna and Bennett appeared a moment later, looking sheepish and refusing to make eye contact with any of them.

“Luna,” Azriel began, starting with the one that was most likely to talk. “Where’ve you been?”

“In town,” she answered, without missing a beat.

Nesta was looking around. “Where’s Thorn?”

Neither of them answered.

Cassian crossed his arms, and repeated, “Where’s Thorn?”

Bennett was rubbing the back of his neck when he muttered, “Jail.”

Everyone froze. It was Nesta who said, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Thorn got arrested,” Luna whispered, staring at her feet.

“He— What do you—?” Nesta was shaking her head, clearly not processing what they were telling her.

“Luna, Ben, follow me,” Rhys said, pointing to the back hallway where the adults’ bedrooms were situated. He looked at Feyre. “Think y’all can start on dinner while we handle this?”

She nodded, but was moving towards Nesta, who looked like she was about to pass out. “Go. We’ve got this under control.”

Cassian looked inclined to disagree, but Rhys walked down the hall, Luna and Bennett a step behind, and he and Azriel followed. They sat down on the end of the bed and faced their fathers and uncle as Rhysand shut the door.

“What happened?”

Luna looked like she was going to be sick under the disapproving gaze of her father. “We got drinks and were hanging out in the park by the Square. There weren’t any kids around so we were just messing around on the swing set. And then Rion got there and—.”

“Marion?” Cassian interrupted. “Thorn’s girlfriend showed up?”

They both nodded and glanced at each other. “I guess she was planning to come up the whole time.”

“The drinks are in the bed of the truck,” Bennett interjected, clearing his throat.

“Ben, in the kindest way, I don’t give a damn about the drinks right now,” Rhys sighed. “What happened that was illegal? Why is Thorn in jail?”

“They went back to the truck,” Luna said, quietly. “We stayed on the playground and we figured we’d just leave when they were done.”

The men silently stared at them.

It was Azriel who awkwardly asked, “And when you say they went back to the truck…?”

“They were having sex,” Bennett replied, bluntly, while Luna’s cheeks were on fire.

“In my truck?” Cassian asked, outraged.

Again, they both nodded. Luna went on. “We noticed it was getting a little late and started heading back that way and when we got closer, we saw the cop putting them in handcuffs.”

“The cop at least let us take the keys, so we could bring the truck back,” Bennett shrugged. “I guess he let Rion off, cause he only put Thorn in the back of the cop car.”

“Are we in trouble?” Luna asked, her wide, hazel eyes filling with tears.

Rhys and Azriel looked at each other and sighed. “No,” Azriel said, at least. “But you should have called us immediately when something went wrong.”

“My phone was dead,” she defended, pulling it out and showing them.

Bennett looked at Rhys. “And you know I never have signal out here.”

Rhys nodded and sighed. “Go get cleaned up for dinner. Don’t tell your brothers and sisters about this. We need to talk to your mothers first.”

They nodded and headed for the door, but Luna looked up at Azriel and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

Taking a deep breath, he hugged her and said, “I know. We’ll get this taken care of.”

She nodded, and followed Bennett out of the room.

Azriel and Rhysand both looked at Cassian, who had his hands on his hips and was staring blankly at a spot on the carpet.

Without another word, he grabbed his truck keys from where Bennett had left them on the bed and was out the door. There were words going about behind him as he went, but no one stopped him. It wasn’t until he was outside unlocking the driver’s side door that someone called his name.

“Cass.” He turned around to find his wife on the porch, holding up a shirt and his wallet. “Forgetting something?”

With a defeated sigh, he slowly walked back up to the porch and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “He got arrested for public indecency, Nesta. Marion came up. He was fucking in the back of my truck-.”

“Don’t act like you and I weren’t doing the same thing at eighteen,” she interrupted, looking up at her husband and his grim, frustrated expression. “Sneaking your girlfriend somewhere, taking advantage of the short time you have together… It wasn’t that long ago it was you and me.”

Cassian crossed his arms. “That’s not the point. How the hell are you so calm right now?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong.” Nesta scoffed, one brow raised. “I’m gonna kick his ass when he gets home. He’s grounded, which he’ll protest because he’s eighteen, which is gonna make me kick his ass even more. But, for me to do that, you need to go get his ass and bring him to me, which I know you’re not gonna wanna do, because you're stubborn and pissed off.”

Cassian’s jaw locked. He didn’t say she was wrong…because she wasn’t.

“How many times were you arrested when you were his age?” she asked, rubbing her hands up and down his crossed arms.

Cassian didn’t answer.

“We all do stupid stuff,” she continued, then reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him, softly, even though Cassian’s lips hardly moved in return. “Go get him, have a civil conversation, don’t yell…too much. Then bring him home, so I can make him cry with my disappointed stare.”

At that, Cassian cracked the smallest smile, knowing she was absolutely right.

He turned to head for the truck and she hollered, “I’ll save him a plate. I doubt the food is very good in prison.”

Pausing as he opened the truck door, Cassian scoffed, glancing back at his wife. “He’s been in jail for less than three hours. I’m sure he’s fine.”

She was smirking, but he could see the sadness and worry in her eyes. “Bring my baby home safe, please.”

Half an hour later, Cassian was parking the truck in the lot behind the police station of the small town. It was mostly a vacation spot, for people like his family, so they’d never needed a big police force. Crime was low here. The worst sort of thing that happened in this town had: teenagers being stupid teenagers.

After speaking with the woman at the front desk, signing a bunch of paperwork and posting his bail, Cassian was leaning against a wall near the front door, waiting for his eldest son. A sullen looking Thorn appeared a moment later, an officer behind him. After shaking the man’s hand, Cassian and Thorn were out the door and heading for the truck. They hopped in, the engine revved to life, and they were off, heading back towards the cabin and their family that waited for them. And still a single word hadn’t been spoken.

Thorn was the one to break the silence. “Well?”

His tone immediately set Cassian on edge and he had to remind himself that that was because it was often so much like his own and to calm down. But it didn’t stop his hand from tightening on the wheel. He took a deep breath before saying, “Well, what?”

Cassian’s eyes were still on the road, but he could feel Thorn looking at him. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”

“Do you want me to yell at you?” Cassian asked. “Do you want me to tell you what a dumbass decision you made today, not only jeopardizing your future, but also Marion’s, and you could have gotten your cousins into serious trouble, too?”

“Luna and Ben would’ve been fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping in the seat. “They weren’t even involved—.”

“And Marion?” Cassian interrupted. “I assume since I didn’t get to have a nice chat with her father in the lobby, they let her go, but she could’ve been in big trouble, too, Thorn.”

The truck cab filled with silence and Cassian took another deep, calming breath before he went on. “Do you know what my first arrest was for?”

Thorn looked over at his father, the man on the Velaris Police Force who never did anything wrong. “You’ve been arrested?”

“More times than I’m going to admit,” Cassian said, but glanced at Thorn before settling his eyes back on the road. “And the first time was for public indecency.”

The silence returned. “Were you having sex-.”

“No,” Cassian said, stopping him before he could finish his sentence. “I was at a party, eighteen years old, and I got drunk, then went streaking down the middle of the road. It was a nice neighborhood, too. Scared the shit out of an old woman sitting on her porch, reading a book. There was a police car sitting right around the corner.” Cassian nodded to Thorn. “At least you were arrested with your clothes on.”

For a moment, Thorn said nothing, but then he laughed, quietly. “Sounds stupid.”

“It was stupid,” Cassian agreed. “Almost as stupid as shagging your girlfriend in the back of a truck in broad daylight.” He gestured outside, to the setting sun.

“Shagging?” Thorn repeated.

“You’d prefer me use a different term?” Cassian shot back.

Thorn shook his head. “Look, I get it, alright? But there was no one else around-.”

“Yeah, which is why you didn’t get yourself in deeper shit. If there had been kids around, Thorn—.” Cassian snapped, then took a second to calm himself back down. “If that cop hadn’t driven by the parking lot and seen the truck off, but moving, I’m sure you wouldn’t have gotten caught. You’re right. But, that’s not the point. The point is-.”

“I know, dad,” Thorn said, his tone hardening. “I don’t need the lecture.”

“No?” Cassian asked.

Thorn shook his head.

“You already know what I’m going to say, then?” Cassian pushed.

Thorn nodded.

Cassian snorted. “Then do tell. Please.”

“You already said it!” Thorn said, tossing his hands in the air. “I’m an idiot, alright? I made a dumbass decision because I can’t control myself. I almost got Marion and Ben and Luna in trouble, and I got my ass tossed into the back of a police car, alright? I know what I did wrong, dad. And I’m embarrassed enough, so…just…please. Save the lecture.” Near the end, his anger faded, and all Cassian could hear was defeat.

Cassian cleared his throat. “Why embarrassed?”

Thorn shot his dad an exasperated look. “Seriously? I just got my naked ass dragged off my girlfriend before getting handcuffed and thrown in the back of a cop car, and you want to ask me why I’m embarrassed?”

Cassian looked over the console at Thorn, then back to the road. “Worried she’ll dump you?”

Thorn thought for a second, then shook his head. “No, but it’s just…not how I wanted today to go.”

Cassian nodded, then thought carefully about how he would ask his next question. “When you two… I mean, I assume it’s not the first time you’ve… You’ve been together a while…” He sighed, then bluntly asked, “You’re careful, right?”

“She’s on the pill,” Thorn mumbled, and when Cassian glanced over as he pulled into the driveway and parked the truck, his son’s cheeks were bright red.

He smirked. “So you’re man enough to have sex, but not to talk about it?”

“Not with you,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the truck.

Cassian followed suit and clapped a hand firmly on his son’s shoulder. “Well, that’s too bad. Cause not only are you about to have to talk to me about it again, but your mother as well.”

Thorn’s eyes went wide and his feet stopped moving. In the moonlight, the color of his eyes weren’t visible and he looked like a mirror image of Cassian at that age. “Mom knows?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cassian replied, getting him moving again. “The only ones that don’t are your brother, sister, and cousins. But the three of us are about to have a conversation and I don’t know if you’ll enjoy it as much as you enjoyed ours.”

Cassian could see a fire going down by the docks and hear the laughter of his family. He knew there would be one person missing from the revelry and found her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and two plates of food on opposite sides of the table.

Nesta was rolling the coffee cup between her hands and her steely eyes flicked up to them the second they opened the sliding glass door.

Cassian didn’t say anything, just picked the plates of food up and took them to the microwave, heating them up, one by one.

Thorn lingered by the door, his hands shoved into his pockets. Finally, he started, “Mom, I—.”

Nesta held up a hand to stop him and pointed to the chair closest to her. “Sit.”

She stood and met Cassian in the kitchen, while Thorn did as he was told. She quietly asked him, “You talked?”

Cassian nodded, already diving into the plate of food. “Yeah.”

“You talked or you yelled?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

With a shrug, Cassian ate another bite of steak. “Both. I’d say it was a productive conversation.”

“So should I be the good cop or the bad cop?” She asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

“I think he’s probably had enough of cops today,” Cassian said, and Nesta could see he was trying not to smile. “Probably best for you to be his mother instead.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Nesta sighed. “You know what I mean, Cass. Do I need to break him down more or should I start picking up the pieces?”

“I’d say a bit of both,” he admitted. “He’s embarrassed, and rightfully so, but I don’t think the ramifications of how bad this could have been have settled in yet.”

She nodded and picked up the second plate. Looking up at her husband, she wrinkled her nose. “Go take a shower after you eat. You smell like the lake.”

Nesta didn’t give him a chance to answer and instead carried the food back out to the dining area and set it down in front of Thorn, before taking her seat again.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled, staring at the food in front of him.

“Too bad.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Eat.”

He did as he was told, eating a few bites in silence until Cassian crossed through the living room, headed for their bedroom. “By the way Nes,” he called out. “Marion is on the pill, in case you wondered.”

Thorn dropped the fork he was holding and covered his face. “Dad.”

“Have a good talk!”

Nesta had closed her eyes and was taking deep, controlled breaths. When she opened them again, her blue-grey eyes met Thorn’s identical ones. “I’m too young to be a grandmother.”

Thorn looked away as he said, “I’m not… We’re being careful.”

“It takes more than her being on the pill to be careful,” Nesta said, calmly. “Accidents happen.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Thorn whispered, staring at his plate.

“Then you shouldn’t have gotten arrested for not being able to keep your hands to yourself,” Nesta replied, simply. “Thorn-.”

“I love her,” he replied, finally looking back up at Nesta. “I love her, and when I’m around her, I can’t even…think straight. I know what we did was stupid, mom, but in that moment…” He shook his head. “You can blame it on stupid teen hormones or whatever, but that wasn’t what this is for me.”

Nesta sighed, setting her coffee down and laying a hand over his. “It’s not that you got caught having sex. It’s not even that you were arrested, but that is a part of it. It’s that you lied to us, Thorn. To me, and your father, and your aunts and uncles. You told us going into town had nothing to do with Marion, but in all reality, that was the whole reason you wanted to go. And you roped Bennett and Luna into it, which could have affected them.”

He nodded, not saying anything, just taking the reprimand.

“We’re upset with you because we’re disappointed. This could have ended much worse, and Marion is lucky they let her go.”

Nesta released his hand, but turned her own palm up, holding it out and waiting. Thorn looked at it for a moment, before glancing up at her face, and sighing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it in her hand. She placed it on the edge of the table and said, “You won’t be getting this back for the rest of the weekend. And when we get home, your father and I will discuss your full punishment.”

“I got thrown in jail,” he mumbled. “Isn’t that punishment enough?”

Her sharp laugh surprised even herself. “Absolutely not. But this weekend isn’t just about us. It’s about your cousins and your aunts and uncles and spending time with them. So finish eating and go join them around the fire.”

“And if they ask where I’ve been?” He asked as she stood and picked his phone up.

Pausing for a moment, she considered telling him to tell them anything but the truth. But they would all find out eventually. “That’s up to you. But keep the sex talk to a minimum. Scar, Lannan and Layla don’t need to hear about that yet.”

Thorn’s jaw locked, but he nodded, once. He stood and cleared his plate, even though anything had hardly been eaten off of it. He stopped before walking out the back door. “Can I at least text Rion to make sure she got home alright?”

“I’ll text her mom,” Nesta replied, simply.

Thorn hesitated. “Saying what?”

“Just making sure she got home safely,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll tell her to let Marion know you're grounded from your phone for the weekend so that she doesn’t worry.”

Thorn nodded, slowly. “And…the other stuff?”

Nesta watched him for a long moment before saying, “Even I think having your ass handed to you by Mr. Salvaterre for being caught with his daughter by the cops is too harsh a punishment. I won’t say a thing.”

All of the breath left Thorn’s body. “Thanks.”

The second Thorn was out the door, Cassian came around the corner, his plate cleaned.

“I should’ve known you were listening,” Nesta said, sipping from her mug as she watched her husband stride to the sink.

As he set his plate inside, he chuckled. “Oh, I wasn’t missing that. And I think you should reconsider. Watching Lorcan kick Thorn’s ass for defiling his daughter may be good for us all.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and looked out the back door, where Thorn was slowly walking down the hill toward the fire. “He means it. I can tell. He loves that girl.”

“You sound like that worries you,” Cassian said, sitting in the chair next to her before pulling her onto his lap.

“I don’t want his heart broken. That’s my baby,” Nesta said, simply.

“Ah, yes,” Cassian muttered, his lips on her shoulder. “Our little felon.”

“Don’t call him that,” she chastised. “He made a mistake. A big, stupid mistake, but I think he understands the consequences of his actions.”

“He better,” he murmured. “They each only get one get out of jail free card.”

Nesta’s quiet laughter shook her body. “I’m fairly sure neither John or Scarlett will need theirs.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, holding her tighter against him. “We can let this go until we get home. Let’s enjoy our time while we’re here, yeah?”

“Exactly.” Nesta turned and kissed him, but when he made a move to deepen the kiss, she put a hand to his chest and pushed him away. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you smelled like a lake. You need a shower.”

Rolling his eyes, he gave her another quick kiss before she stood. “Fine. I’ll go get in the shower. But only if you promise to make me a s’more when I get out.”

“Sounds like a fair trade,” she said, heading for their bedroom, Thorn’s phone in hand.

“I’m surprised he didn’t ask you not to go through his search history,” Cassian called from where he still sat at the table.

“You’re disgusting,” she hollered back.

“I’ve also been an eighteen-year-old boy,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I remember well,” Nesta laughed, turning off her son’s phone and placing it on the top of her dresser.

Thorn would be fine, reckless nature and all. He was his father’s son, after all, and Cassian had turned out pretty damn good, even if he was the cockiest, most reckless young man Nesta had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Even if said man was sliding out the back door and not following her down the hall to take a shower like he’d said he would.

Exasperated, Nesta went onto the back porch to yell at him, but he was running down the hill, taking off his shirt as he did so. Once he reached the bonfire, he was throwing Thorn over his shoulder and running down the dock, toward the lake.

Nesta had no idea how he could still toss Thorn around like a sack of potatoes. They were nearly the same height, with those same broad shoulders.

She watched as Cassian jumped off the end of the dock, taking Thorn with him beneath the dark water, jeans, shoes, and all.

Nesta laughed quietly as Rhysand, Azriel, Bennett, and John all followed their lead, running down the dock and diving in.

“Nesta!”

Her eyes shifted to the fire, where everyone else sat. Feyre was waving for her to join them. “Come have a drink and help us laugh at these foolish boys!”

Nesta could hear the girls giggling as she walked down the hill to join them. Lannan was sound asleep on the ground in front of the fire, obviously having worn himself out from the day, and Scarlett and Layla weren’t far behind.

Nesta took the lawn chair that either Rhys or Az had vacated between her sisters, and took a deep breath in as she gazed up at the stars. They weren’t as beautiful as the ones she’d come to know and love in Velaris, but they were still a glorious sight.

“Everything okay?” Elain asked, taking Nesta’s hand.

She nodded, eyes still on the stars. “We’ll deal with it when we get home,” she replied, looking down at her sisters. “For now, we want to enjoy this weekend. Enjoy our time with our family.”

Feyre and Elain both smiled at that and Feyre rested her head on Nesta’s shoulder.

Tomorrow would be a new day. The sun would be bright and shining and they’d spend the day how they’d originally planned.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be a day as crazy as today had been.

[jungshookz]

the need for speed(dating); pjm

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader

➺ genre; sfw!! fluff!! y/n’s a goofball!! jimin’s into that!! featuring sommelier!hobi but before he finds his y/n,.. and also bartender!tae!! 

➺ wordcount; 5.7k

➺ summary; hoseok tricks y/n into attending a speed-dating event and (unsurprisingly) it doesn’t go down so well... then things gets a little better, thanks to the handsome stranger sitting at the bar. 

➺ what to expect; “please tell me you didn’t lure me here with the prospect of spaghetti and meatballs just to get me to take part in a speed-dating event for sad, single people.”

                                        »»————-　♡　————-««

“oh my god, what’s the rush?!” you stumble over your feet as hoseok continues to drag you along with him, “seriously, you need to slow down because i’m going to twist an ankle if you make me walk any faster-”

“we’re late for our reservation because you couldn’t decide on what top to wear-” hoseok scoffs and picks up his pace, your eyes widening for a split second when you actually almost fall flat on your face

“hey, i just wanted to wear something nice because you said that the place we were going to was a nice place- if you didn’t raise the standards, then i wouldn’t have raised the standards either!”

“less talking, more walking!”

you’re really not sure what possessed hoseok to want to go to a fancy restaurant tonight

pizza hut’s doing this triple treat box thing for the holidays and you suggested getting that because you get three main courses in one big box

what’s not to like?!

you weren’t even aware that hoseok had made reservations until earlier today 

he just sprung it on you that you guys were eating at a restaurant and not at the apartment tonight anD he told you to dress up nicely because of some dress-code 

“is this the part where you tell me you’ve actually been in love with me this entire time?” you joke as the two of you approach the restaurant, your eyes immediately picking up the romantic lighting coming from inside, “need i remind you, our ‘let’s get married if we don’t find anyone’ deal expires when we turn thirty, and i’m definitely not-”

“i’m not confessing my undying love for you tonight, y/n-” hoseok rolls his eyes playfully, the two of you joining the queue, “i just wanted to eat something that wasn’t fast food for once, you know?”

“you’re telling me the pizza hut triple treat box didn’t sound one bit tempting?”

hoseok pauses 

“…we’ll do that next week.”

heh

“plus, uh, you said that you wanted spaghetti and meatballs or something, right? i looked up where to find the city’s best spaghetti and meatballs, and this place came up as one of the results!” hoseok chirps, though you’re barely paying attention to him because you’ve just taken notice of one of the signs sitting by the entrance

“hey, look at that-” you point to the wooden sign before snorting to yourself, “there’s a speed-dating event taking place here tonight. i can’t wait to watch sad, single people get nervous and twitchy while talking to other sad, single people. do you think if we asked nicely, they could move us to a table where we can eavesdrop on everyone’s conversations??”

“yeah, our table is… a lot closer to the event than you think.” hoseok mutters off to the side before shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you turn to look at him, your brows knitting together in suspicion when he avoids your gaze and starts whistling a happy little tune to himself

…

…

oh my god

“hoseok,” you clear your throat quietly, hoseok’s eyes widening in alert when he notices you take a tiny step away from him, “please tell me you didn’t lure me here with the prospect of spaghetti and meatballs just to get me to take part in a speed-dating event for sad, single people.”

“well, i…” hoseok swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat

he flashes you a sheepish smile to confirm your answer

NO

“do they- do they even have spaghetti and meatballs on the menu??” you gawk, taking several steps back so you can look up at the name of the restaurant

le petit paris

oh god

this whole thing was a set-up

everything is a lie!  

this place is french

“this place is FRENCH!” you gasp, bringing a hand up to your chest in shock at this outright betrayal, “you tricked me, you slimy-” you spin around on your heels to walk back to the car, “i’m going home! no, first i’m going to get the triple treat- actually, i can’t finish that all on my own so- i’m going home, and i’m going to order that fancy ham and cheese sandwich from that one deli-”

“the fancy ham and- that’s a croque monsieur, y/n, that’s french!” hoseok snaps, “will you get back here?? you can’t go home because i’m the one who drove us here-”

“i don’t care!” you exclaim, standing at the edge of the sidewalk before looking to see if there are any taxis nearby that you can wave down, “i’m going home!”

“oh, c’mon-” hoseok gives the rest of the strangers in line an apologetic smile before rushing over to grab you before you can make an escape, “will you relax and please just-”

“hoseok, i am not doing this- are you kidding me?? you know how i feel about dating-” 

“i know, i know!” hoseok waves his arms, “but- just- you haven’t been out on any dates since you and seokjin broke up a year and a half ago...”

you immediately clam up at the mention of seokjin and you feel your entire face flush

it’s true

you haven’t made any efforts to go out and meet new people since you split with seokjin (sure, it was a mutual breakup, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less when he came to pick up his box of belongings at your apartment)

“and every time i tried to set you up on a blind date, you said that you weren’t ready for that yet- which, by the way, is obviously totally understandable, but-”

“but what?! there shouldn’t be a but!” you cross your arms, “all i have to say is that i’m not ready, and that should be enough of a reason to not trick me like this-”

“you use the breakup as an excuse to get out of everything, y/n!” hoseok exasperates, “remember when i asked you if you wanted to come to one of my wine-tasting courses? do you remember what you said to me?”

(“oh, you know… i would love to watch you do you thing at your… super fancy wine and cheese tasting thing, but i… i’m still grieving over the breakup! i’m, like, still devastated. super devastated. i’m in a very sensitive state, so i don’t think it’d be a good idea for me to leave my apartment, like, at all-”)

“…touché.” you mutter, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

for the record, you felt really bad about not going to support hoseok at his fancy sommelier thing as soon as you hung up but you made up for it by going to his next one!

“plus, you look really pretty tonight and it would be a complete and utter shame to let that go to waste!” hoseok gestures to your outfit, “your ass looks great in these jeans, your legs look great in these heels, your boobs look fantastic-”

“okay, i think i get the point-”

“and you know i love hanging out with you, but… sometimes i wanna go out on dates too, you know?” he sighs, his shoulders drooping a little, “like, we can’t spend every weekend together-”

“i know that!” you frown, “you can just tell me that you have a date and can’t hang out, don’t make it sound like i’m forcing you to spend time with me-”

“i know, but i would feel bad about leaving you at home while i’m out with a potential romantic partner-”

“okay, you know what?” you raise both your hands before shaking your head, “fine. i will… i will do this one thing for you. i’m just glad we’re doing it together! because it would be awful if i went in there alone-” 

the smile drops from your face when hoseok has the audacity to press his lips together and look away from you again

“oh my- are you serious?? you’re not even doing this?? a second ago you were talking about finding your potential romantic partner!” 

“sure, but i wanna find them organically!” hoseok shrugs before scrunching his nose, “plus, i think speed dating is tacky.”

“wha-” you gawk, immediately spinning back around, “well, in that case, the only way you’re getting me in that restaurant is if you drag my cold, dead body-”

                                           »»————-　♡　————-««

“okay, if you need me, i’ll be sitting, like, right over there where you can still see me so it’ll sort of feel like we’re in this together-“ hoseok smooths the name sticker onto your shirt before giving it a pat, “but i saw a warm goat cheese puff pastry thing on the menu and i’m going to be helping myself to a big ol’ serving of that-”

“i hate you.” you interrupt, staring at hoseok blankly

“oh, you don’t mean that…” he coos, reaching up to fix a couple strands of your hair, “you’ll see! you’re going to have so much fu-”

“i hate you. and the burgundy button-up that you’re wearing looks awful on you.”

hey!

you said this was your favourite shirt on him!!!

“okay, well-” hoseok looks down at his (beautiful) top before frowning, “now you’re just trying to hurt me-”

“please don’t make me do this.” you whisper, hoseok looking up to see your eyes beginning to water, “i really don’t think i can do this.”

oh boy 

hoseok stays silent for a second as he watches your eyes beginning to well up with moRe tears 

“hey- i know it’s scary, y/n. i know.” hoseok shushes, immediately pulling a handkerchief out from his pocket to dab away your tears, “i know that it’s intimidating to... you know, throw yourself back out there after not having done this for so long, but… you have to at least try, you know?” he pulls away and gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, “look- if you really, really don’t wanna do this, we can just enjoy a nice meal together at this super nice restaurant that we definitely can’t afford… but do you think you can at least give it a try? please?”

“i…” you trail off, turning to look over your shoulder at the group of other sad, single people

okay

well

you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try

it’s been a year and a half!!

and if you’re going to start somewherE, you might as well start at an event that’s dedicated to helping you find love

“fine.” you sniffle, looking down and adjusting the sleeves of your blouse, “but i saw truffle fries on the menu and you’re buying two orders of that for takeout-“

“deal!” hoseok chirps, spinning you around before gently nudging you towards the group of strangers, “remember to smile! and to not talk about seokjin! ooh, and to not make any weird jokes that could scare a potential suitor away!”

“go away, you’re being embarrassing-” you hiss quietly, stepping down to enter the… pit?

you’re not sure what to call this part of the restaurant

it’s the area where hosts usually ask customers to wait while they set up a table for them 

whatever this place is called, you’re just glad that there’s a bar here because you’re definitely going to need a boost of liquid courage

the lighting is nice and dim which is great because you’re pretty sure your eyeliner is already starting to smudge from almost bursting into tears a second ago

you stand awkwardly by the stairs as you take in the scene before you

…

you haven’t even been here ten seconds and you already want to leave

what makes things worse is the fact that this isn’t one of those regular speed dating ones where you’re set up with a person and then after the timer goes off you move to the next table

no

this is one of those free, go-with-the-flow speed dating events where you just go up to anyone you want and spark up a conversation and hopefully find someone who can match your energy

and since you came late, it seems as though everyone’s already found someone else to talk to

great!

you’re the only sad, single person in this room of sad, single, but paired-up people

you look back out to the main area of the restaurant to see hoseok chatting it up with one of the waitresses

she giggles as she shakes her head, writing something down on her notepad

it seems like he’s having a good time out there

…you hope he chokes on his goat cheese pastries.

okay

what you need to do is just go for it, you know?

like, don’t even think about anything

just go up to anyone and say hello, and then you’ll wing it from that point

you wipe your clammy hands down on the back of your jeans as you make your way towards the centre of the room, looking around for anyone… who isn’t… talking to anyone… else…

ah!

you reach up to pinch your own cheeks in an attempt to loosen up your face muscles before forcing a bright smile on your face

you can do this

easy peasy!

saying hello isn’t hard

“hilo!” you greet, tapping the guy on the shoulder to get his attention

oh

never mind

turns out saying hello brings some of its own challenges

“i mean- hi.” you clear your throat, already feeling heat trickling up your chest, “sorry. i didn’t know if i wanted to say hi or if i wanted to say hello, and i guess my brain kinda just jumbled the two together-”

“hello,” he cuts you off before offering you a stiff smile, “that’s alright. i was actually in the middle of a conversation, if you don’t mind-” he points to over his shoulder at the girl standing in front of him and your eyes widen in surprise

whoopsies

“oh, gosh! i- um, i’m so sorry!” you take a small step back before raising both your hands up, “i’m sorry, i didn’t see her over your broad shoulders, so- o-oh, that wasn’t- that wasn’t me hitting on you or anything, by the way, that was just, like- your broad shoulders were just a general observation-“ you chuckle, shooting him two finger guns, “okay, yeah. you guys can go ahead and… do your thang…” you press your lips together tightly when he turns back around, focusing his attention back on his date

alright

no problem!

it’s fine

“not embarrassing at all…” you murmur lowly as you step backwards, jolting when you accidentally bump into someone

!

you whip around quickly to apologize but you don’t get a chance to because suddenly there’s a champagne flute and a dirty plate being shoved into your hands

“wha-”

“a refill would be awesome,” the brunette smiles at you, “moët and chandon, please.”

“oh, i’m not a-”

“oh, of course!” she gasps, reaching into her purse and pulling out a dollar bill, “here you go…” she narrows her eyes as she looks at your name tag, “y/n! lovely service. you’re doing a great job, girlfriend. it’s hard workers like you who make up the backbone of our society.”

“thank… you?” you stand frozen in shock when she tucks the folded bill into the shoulder of your blouse

this blouse was $200 and apparently it makes you look like a server so that’s definitely money well-spent

but also, who in their right mind would think a restaurant server would be wearing a square-necked, puffy sleeved blouse as part of their uniform?!

and why would a waiter have the exact same name sticker as everyone else participating in this speed-dating event??

“excuse me… pardon me…” you mutter as you elbow your way through the crowd, holding the dish and the glass up a little higher so you don’t get any crumbs or anything on anyone’s clothes

“oh, could you take this for me, please?”

“and this, too!”

“no, i-” you stop in your tracks when a plate is stacked on top of the one you’re already holding and you fight back the urge to let out a speechless laugh, “okay, sure, i’ll even drive you people home at the end of the night-”

to be fair, when you’re holding a dish and a glass like that, it does kind of make you look like a waiter so you can’t really blame everyone for thinking that you’re here to serve them

by the time you make your way to the bar, you’re balancing five little plates in one hand and you have four champagne flute stems held upside down and pinched in between your fingers

you let out a huff as you set everything down in the sink behind the bar, being careful not to drop and break anything

you dust your hands off, looking out towards the restaurant to see hoseok happily picking at a charcuterie board while swirling a glass of wine in his other hand

that sick, twisted bastard

…and your blouse now has a splotch of creamy white sauce on it, which is just fantastic, isn’t it?

not only do you look like a waiter, now you look like a perverted waiter!

“oh, come on…” you groan quietly, grabbing a napkin and wetting it with your tongue before reaching down to rub at it, “i just had this dry-cleaned a couple of days ago…”

so far this has been a living nightmare

but at least you got a dollar out of it!

...she could’ve given you a more generous tip, but it is what it is. 

“i feel like scrubbing it just makes it worse, no?” you hear a voice a couple feet away from you and you look up while continuing to rub at the stain

“that’s true, but i feel like dabbing it gently really doesn’t-“ you choke over your own words when your brain finally catches up to your eyes

handsome

handsome handsome handsome handsome handsome

holy handsome

the stranger tilts his head slightly, the corners of his pretty mouth pulling up into a lopsided smile, “really doesn’t…?”

“does- doesn’t, um…” you look down at the stain on your blouse as you feel your brain working overtime to spit out an answer, “doesn’t… do the thing.”

“do the thing. hm. that’s a fair point.” he hums, bringing his glass up to his mouth for a sip

you feel your heart skip a beat when you take in his pretty side profile... from the smooth, straight slope of his nose... to his pink, pillowy lips

oh, wow 

maybe there’s still some hope that this event won’t turn out to be too bad 

you stand up a little straighter when it hits you that this is your chance

this is your chance to stop being a waiter and start being a fellow speed-dater!!

“what are you drinking?” you ask, sitting down on the stool next to him before folding your arms up on the counter, “i could use a drink.”

“a gimlet.”

“a- a giblet? like… from chicken?” you frown, looking at the contents of his glass, “you’re drinking chicken giblets??”

he chokes on his sip and sets his glass down quickly before reaching up to wipe at his mouth with a napkin, turning to look at you with a smile, “no, silly. not giblet. gimlet. it’s gin, simple syrup, and lime juice.”

yeah

that makes more sense

“oh-” you snort, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth a little, “sorry. i heard giblet. but a gimlet sounds really good.”

“can i get one for you?” he asks, already raising his hand to get the bartender’s attention

“that would be nice, yes.” quickly letting out a breath when he turns to talk to the bartender

so far, so good!

you didn’t weird him out with your gimlet-giblet thing, which is a good sign

you cross one leg over the other, pausing for a second before switching legs

you hate sitting on bar stools because you can never find a comfortable position on them…

at the end of the night you’re always left with one butt cheek on the stool and one hanging oFF the stool

you settle on crossing your right leg over your left, nodding to yourself before folding your hands over your lap

this is a natural looking position, right??

you just don’t want to look like a dumbass in front of the very attractive giblet man

“everything okay?”

you look up to see that he’s turned back to face you, one arm propped up on the counter with his jaw resting against his fist

“oh! yeah.” you wave him off, “sorry… i just haven’t done this in a long time, that’s all.”

“what? sitting on a bar stool?” he jokes, the sound of his giggle immediately giving you a spurt of newfound energy, “are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“me?” you purse your lips in thought before scrunching your nose, “eh. i don’t think so. everyone thought i was one of the waiters, so i haven’t been able to really spark up any conversations because i’ve been busy collecting dirty plates and empty glasses- which reminds me, i’m pretty sure there are like, three people waiting for me to bring them champagne…“ you trail off, turning to look over your shoulder to see if there are any angry customers glaring you down

“yeah, i saw…” the stranger chuckles, “for the record, you’re actually pretty good at balancing plates! i probably would’ve dropped them all.”

“the only thing that kept me from dropping them all was the reminder that i’d probably have to pay for the damage done.”

“very, very true! and the bill would’ve been sky-high because this place is pretty fancy.”

“i know!!” you gasp, “and you can tell it’s fancy because you can pay someone else to park your car for you. like- valets are just- you know. fancy.”

“fancy.” he mimics, his knee bumping against yours as he shifts in his stool, “so, do you go to speed-dating events often?”

“oh, no.” you pause to thank the bartender as he sets down your drink on a coaster, “this is actually the first time i’ve ever been to one of these things. i didn’t even wanna come here in the first place, but my friend forced me to because he thinks i should get back into the game or whatever considering i broke up with my boyfriend, like, a year and a half ago-”

don’t make any weird jokes! don’t talk about seokjin!

hoseok’s words from earlier tonight suddenly echo in your head and you feel your cheeks grow pink

your giblet joke was pretty weird

and you just mentioned your ex-boyfriend

two for two!

you quickly take a sip of your drink before you blurt anything else out

ooh!

this is actually pretty nice 

“the, uh, the gimlet is good!” you hum, “i like the lime.”

“mhm, it’s my favourite drink.” he smiles, reaching over to gently clink his glass against yours before taking his own sip, “so your friend forced you to come and you’re not having a good time? that’s pretty rough.”

“yeah, well...” you sigh, “speed-dating is just the worst, you know? like… okay, if the hosts had set this up, like, where you get five minutes to talk to someone and then when the timer goes off, you move to the next table-”

“oh, yeah-”

“yeah, exactly- if it was like that, it probably would’ve been better, because that way no one gets left out!” you scoff, “but this freestyle just-talk-to-whoever-you-want-to type speed-dating is frankly ineffective and totally stupid, in my opinion. whoever organised this thing probably had one too many gimlets while they were planning it out…” you giggle, shaking your head, “also, i feel like organising a speed-dating event during the holidays is a little sad, you know? like… well, it’s not as bad as hosting one on valentine’s day or something, but doing it during christmas seems a little awkward, and, like… taking advantage and leeching onto sad, single people.”

“i see where you’re coming from- you know, i was at a valentine’s day one earlier this year and i’m pretty sure most of the people there were just looking to bone each other and not to make a real connection.”

“well, when you say it like that, it seems like speed-dating events are just a gateway drug into full-blown orgies-”

you bite back a grin when he chokes on his drink again before throwing his head back in laughter

wow!

this is going great!!!

you’re definitely going to have to thank hoseok if this thing with giblet man works out

of course, you should probably noT keep calling him giblet man if you want it to work out

his actual name is a crucial piece of information if you’re planning on asking him out on a proper date

“oh, by the way-” you clear your throat, “i never got your na-”

“hold on, before you say anything else, i just have to do something really quickly-” he holds his finger up to stop you before turning and getting up off the stool, your brows furrowing in confusion when he picks up the microphone sitting on the stool on the other side of him

huh

that’s a little weird

who brings a microphone to a speed-dating event?

bursting into song while everyone’s trying to have conversations with each other seems like a questionable thing to d-

“i hope everyone’s having a good time so far!” he announces, the music lowering a little bit as he continues to speak, “i just wanted to chime in and remind everyone to write down the names of whoever you’re interested in seeing again- there should be notepads and pens sitting on each of the tables…”

…

…

…

oh

oh no

oh dear GOD

you spin back around to face the bar, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth to suppress a scream of mortification when you realise that you just talked trash about the host of this event while talking to the host of the event

no wonder he didn’t have a name sticker!!! 

he didn’t even stop you! he just let you go on and on and on-

i need to get the hell out of here

you need to leave the crime scene immediately!!!!!

you down the rest of your drink before hopping off the stool, reaching up to rip your name sticker off and crumpling it up before tossing it to the side

of course 

of course this would happen to you!

out of all the people in the world, of course this would happen to you!

that’s it

you’re never going to do this again

in fact, you’re just never going to leave the apartment ever again

you’re just going to rot in your apartment and die alone, which sounds like a pretty good option to you

you should think about leaving the country while you’re at it 

you head straight for hoseok and you’re walking so quickly that your hair is practically whipping behind you

“hey! we’re leaving now-“ you hiss, grabbing hoseok’s arm and giving him a yank, “c’mon, up and at ‘em-”

“woah, woah-” hoseok smacks your hand away from him as he looks up at you incredulously, “what happened?? i just placed an order for your fries and they won’t be ready for a couple more minute-”

“screw the fries!” you duck down a little as you look towards the pit, “i just humiliated myself in front of a very attractive man and i would like to leave before i embarrass myself further-”

“well, what did you even do??” hoseok asks, scrambling to pull his credit card out of his wallet before raising an arm to flag a waiter down, “what happened??”

“oh my god, you don’t even wanna know-” you shake your head, “first, i went up to someone who was already talking to someone and i said hilo because i didn’t know if i wanted to say hi or hello and it came out as hilo- and, anyways, he basically ignored me so then i bumped into someone else and she thought i was one of the waiters which doesn’t even make any sense because i?? i’m not dressed like a waiter! i have a name sticker too!” you point to your chest before realising that you’d ripped it off a second ago, “well, i had one- okay, and then- and then this really cute guy started talking to me as i was wiping my shirt-”

“you stained your new blouse??” hoseok gawks, leaning back a little to inspect your shirt, “you just got it cleaned a couple of days ago!”

oh yeah

that’s a stain

...a very questionable looking stain-

“it was an accident-!” you groan quietly, “so, the cute guy- he started talking to me and we were having a really nice conversation- i slipped up a couple of times and made some weird jokes anD sort of brought up seokjin but-”

“oh my god, y/n-” hoseok mutters, pausing to take the chip reader from the waitress (in your panicked, rambley state, you don’t notice the way he winks at her and her girlish reaction to that)

“-somehow we started talking about speed-dating events and i just went into a rant about how tacky they are and how much i hate them a-and how much this one in particular sucked- and the next thing i know, he’s picking up a microphone and-”

“will you just get to the point?” hoseok gets up from his seat, pulling his jacket from the back of the chair

“i trash-talked the host in front of his own event!” you whine, feeling the urge to burst into tears for the second time tonight

“oh, jesus, okay-” hoseok laughs uncomfortably as the two of you hurry to get the hell out of here, “maybe you need to find someone organically too… and maybe we’ll avoid speed-dating for a while…”

“i told you we should’ve gone home!” you shiver as you step out into the cold, instinctively wrapping your arms tight around yourself

you decided not to bring a coat because you wanted to show off your pretty blouse but now you wish you’d brought one just to a) keep you warm AND b) hide your definitely-not-cum-stained waiter blouse

“this sucks! and i didn’t even get my truffle fries-!” you groan loudly, your voice dissipating into the air

“alright, shakespeare, take it down a notch-” hoseok reaches over to give you a pat on the back, “also, if you were willing to wait-”

“hey, hold on!” you stop in your tracks when you hear a familiar voice call out and you whip around to see the man you just embarrassed yourself in front of, “y/n!”

great!

and now he knows your name, too! 

“oh, god.” you turn back around, picking up your pace at the sight of hoseok’s car, “c’mon, let’s go-”

“you can’t just ignore him, he’s literally calling for you-!” hoseok grabs the back of your shoulders to stop you before turning you around, “i’m gonna wait in the car- and you better not mess up what looks to be a second chance-”

“hos-!” you don’t get a chance to turn and run after hoseok because the next thing you know-

“hey! you left your name sticker at the ball, cinderella.” mr. gimlet jogs up to you, unfurling his fist to reveal your sad, crumpled name-tag

“you came out just to bring me garbage?” you joke weakly, feeling completely drained from the events of tonight, “how romantic.”

“it’s, um, jimin, by the way.” he clears his throat, standing up straight, “that’s my name.”

“jimin.” you nod, testing the feel of his name coming out of your mouth 

jimin 

hm

you like it :-)

“i was going to tell you but when i turned around, you disappeared-” 

“well, yeah, because like-” you pause, “you’re not mad?”

“what?” he frowns, “why would i be mad?”

“because i… said all of that stuff?” you reach up to scratch the back of your head, “about… you know… stuff.”

“everyone’s entitled to their own opinion, y/n.” jimin smiles, offering you a boyish grin, “you’re a real goofball, you know that? you ran away because you thought i would be mad that you didn’t like the speed-dating event i was hosting?”

“yeah, i, uh… i full-on sprinted out of there…” you chuckle nervously, uncrumpling your name-sticker just so you have something to do with your hands, “ah, i’m sorry. i just- well, you know, i… haven’t really… done stuff like this in a while, so…”

“well,” jimin clears his throat, taking a step forward before plucking the sticker from your twitchy fingers, “you’re welcome to talk about how much you hate dates while we’re out on our date.”

“yeah, i- wait, o-our date?” you quickly look up at him before blinking owlishly, “are you- you want to take me out on a date?”

jimin smooths your sticker flat out on his palm before flipping it around to show you his number that he scribbled onto the back

he wants to take you out on a date?

...

jimin wants to take you out on a date!!!!!!!!

“of course i do!” he states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world before handing the sticker back to you, “we can get wasted on giblets and you can help me plan out my next super-tacky speed-dating event.”

“oh, god-” you feel your face flush as you shake your head furiously, “i’m... so sorry...” 

“y/n, it’s fine-” jimin laughs, reaching over to hook a finger under your chin to get you to look up at him, “so... what do you say?” 

after everything that took place tonight you were sure you’d be leaving the restaurant with nothing but hoseok and two orders of truffle fries

but no!!!

here you are, being asked out by a very cute boy while his number sits right in the palm of your hand 

...this is what they’d call a christmas miracle, right?

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

[jimlingss]

Dynasty

➜ Words: 17.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Angst, 35% Smut, 15% Fluff, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie the Treacherous (2015)

➜ Warnings: Brief depictions of reluctant sexual intercourse, dubious consent, emphasis on impregnation, sloppy seconds, creampies, pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised.

“Absolutely not!” 

You stand at once, chair knocked back to the ground in a clatter, unable to believe what you were hearing. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps your ears hear wrongly. But by the way your older brother’s brows are drawn together, marring his usually good-natured features, you know you’re not mistaken.    He had worn the same expression as the day of your parents' massacre.   Your voice is shrill as you protest and cry, “I won’t! I can’t! T-This— this is ridiculous! How could you even….how could you even….”   You are Seokjin’s younger sister — his blood, flesh, bones. Family. And you were about to be traded in like you were no one to him. A chess piece. A part of his bigger plan that you wanted nothing to do with.   Jungkook looks at you with an impassive expression, one you cannot read, but you pay him no mind. Seokjin, however, looks to him and nods his head. They are silent in their communication, and then Jungkook takes his leave until there it is only your shadow and Seokjin’s that flickers against the wall with every movement of the dim candlelight.   He begins with a soft voice. A soothing one as if you were a child.    “There’s no choice, Y/N.”   “There is always choice,” you emphasize as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Do you really want to send me off to that...that disgusting monster? Do you really want me to be used? If you care about me as a younger sister, if you care about me at all, you wouldn’t be doing this.”   His dark eyes meet yours. “The decision has been made, Y/N. You have been chosen. But this is the way we can make our parents happy. This is the only way for them to reach peace.”   You sob, collapsing onto the ground. Seokjin does little to comfort you. He knows there’s nothing he can do after this betrayal.   You hold your face in your hands, catching the tears that rack through your frame. It is silent except for the noises of your wails muffled through your sleeves.    After minutes of devastation and grief that stutters out of you, your hands drop to look at him. And your voice swoops into a murmur, one that is private, kept between the two of you. You beg for his honesty from sibling to sibling, without duties or titles. “Is...is t-there no other way?”   Your brother deflates, refusing to look at you. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, how he swallows hard to answer. “There must always be sacrifices made in times of a revolution and this is ours.”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is mine.”

There is a knock at your door.   “Go away, Seokjin,” you shout at him without regard for sibling hierarchy. In your anger, he has long lost the respect that goes along with the status of being your older brother. “I said I wasn’t hungry!”   But in spite of your bitterness, the door opens anyhow.   It’s Jungkook who has appeared in place of Seokjin, doe eyes and dark hair tied into a high ponytail by a black ribbon that matches his robbed attire and the scabbard by his side.   “I saw the light in your room,” he says simply.   You lift your eyes away from the book you were copying, the last task that you wanted to finish, and your gaze remains cold on the man.    You detest Jungkook.    He is Seokjin’s friend, not yours and not a childhood one. Your brother had met him shortly after arriving in this town years ago. But you do not know him well. You resent him merely because he represents every manner that Seokjin has changed in the ways you hate most.   Before they met, Seokjin was still the brother you knew. Kind-hearted. Mischievous. Protective. There was no rebellion group, talk of treason, risk of harm. The Seokjin you knew would’ve never thrown you away like this.   “Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey,” he asks.   “There’s no reason not to be.” Jungkook is quiet and conniving. You know the only reason he has come out of his way to check on your well-being in the middle of the night is for his assumption that you are a flight risk. You suppose it might be natural to have those suspicions. Any girl in your position would run. But you quickly dissipate his worries if it means he’ll leave. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to run. I wouldn’t do that to Jin.”   He makes no changes in his expression. Always blank. Always emotionless.   “The journey will be long. You should get some rest.”   “I can take care of myself.”   He remains silent for a moment. But you return to your work and when you look up again, he’s gone, having finally left you in your own misery.   //   When the first blush of dawn arrives, you get dressed in your best attire and gather the little belongings you have. They’re already waiting for you in front of the house, not allowing you a moment to yourself to relish in freedom any longer. There is a horse, a carriage, and four members of the group you don’t recognize along with Jungkook to journey with you.   Seokjin waits there too, but you can’t look him in the eye.   He knows you're upset, you can tell. Neither of you say much to each other, but you mutter a half-hearted farewell.   You can hear the way the corner of his mouth gently quirks by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon enough, Y/N.”   You turn away, walking to your carriage where the horse is already neighing and becoming fussy. But then your steps slow. You hesitate getting in and Jungkook stares at you, waiting patiently, never once pushing you on.   At once, you turn around. “Jin!”   You call out to your brother and he turns around before stumbling. A giggle streams out of his chest after you’ve thrown yourself at him in an embrace as if you were still children. He hugs you back, arms around your body, frame overtaking yours, and he squeezes you tight.   You shut your eyes to savour the fleeting moment.   He leans down, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”   But you shake your head, unable to utter a word for fear of crying again.   “We should get a move on before it gets any later,” one of the members calls out and it’s your reminder of where you’re headed.   You pull apart from Seokjin. He smiles tenderly and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.   The carriage ride is shaky. Every bump and crack of the dirt road is felt by you ten folds, the wheels wobbling and the horse’s disregard makes it difficult for you to rest easy. But you don’t dare utter a complaint, not when you’re in the company of unfamiliar people. You do, however, pull back the curtain of the square window to look at the land and let in fresh air.   Eventually, there’s a break called. The tiny carriage comes to a halt and Jungkook is the one who brushes open the large curtain. He catches you off guard, peering in with his large eyes that seemingly sparkle naturally.   “We’re going to take a small rest.”   “Okay.”   He helps guide you out and you notice the other people are either on the ground resting their feet or by the stream, taking a drink of water.   “Are you alright?”   You nod. There’s a moment of serene quietness, the birds chirping around the trees, the rustling of leaves. Jungkook drinks from his leather pouch and then hands it to you to quench your thirst.   You sip it, soothing your throat and gather the courage to utter his name— “Jungkook.” He turns to you. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”   “You’ll be introduced as one of the minister’s nieces. He’s been aligned with us for years. You’ll be inspected and bathed, and then there will be a ceremony and then….”   “I’ll be bedded,” you complete his sentence for him.   Jungkook remains silent.   The Emperor is infertile. It’s a truth no one dares to utter, but it’s been fifteen years since he began his reign and he has yet to produce a child no matter how many consorts and concubines has entered the palace. The Empress has not bore a child either.   And nine years ago, there was an official decree. Every three months since, a girl is selected and brought in. If she doesn’t get pregnant within the time frame, she is executed for failing to fulfill her duty, for treason.   You are the next one.   The one who has to preoccupy the Emperor to the best of your abilities.   “You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook says, perhaps reading the expression on your face, but you slap his hand away when he reaches out.   “Of course I’ll worry,” you spit at him in animosity. “I’m going to die.”   The man’s brows draw tightly together, his lips lopsided. “It’ll be over before they can get to you.”   You say nothing more, returning to the small carriage before you can start to sob like a child and further be humiliated.   //   Night falls and camp is set up with little hardships. By the afternoon of tomorrow, you would have already arrived at the palace, perhaps straight to the Emperor’s bed. The thought makes you nauseated, wanting to crawl out of your own skin and hide from your body.   You know you’re being selfish. In the bigger picture, your desires don’t matter. If anything, you should be happy to give yourself up for the rebellion. For the common good. But you can’t.    “Are you not going to eat?” one of the female guards asks you with a smile and you lift your eyes away from the blazing fire whose heat has pressed against your cheeks.    You look around to the four members of the group that has been commissioned to protect you, their faces illuminated by the glow of the flames. You wonder what sacrifices they had made to be here, what led them here in the first place.   “I-I can’t.” You stand up and all of their heads, including Jungkook’s, turn to you. “I’m sorry. I….I need a moment to myself.”   You quicken your pace towards the forest, trying to escape their prying gazes, the burden that has been placed upon your shoulders. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if the smog of the fire has bloomed inside of your lungs, constricting your chest, forming a thick lump in your throat.   The darkness of the forest envelopes you and it’s almost comforting.   That is until there’s a branch snapping behind you, and you quickly spin around.   “I knew you weren’t okay.”   “Go away, Jungkook.”   He remains silent, but you can see the outline of him coming closer towards you. He is not dissuaded no matter how much you have pushed him away from you, no matter how rude you’ve been to him from the start. You’re not sure if he pities you or he—   “Can I comfort you in place of Seokjin?” Jungkook requests in an earnest murmur, humble and cautious. “You wish he was here instead of me, don’t you?”   You’re taken aback, brought to speechlessness.   The two of you end up seated by the creek on a wooden log. The horizon is full of stars, allowing you to see enough to watch the water that rushes past in a calm hum, soothing your turmoil.   “I’m afraid.”   “Of what?”   “I don’t know what to do. How to capture the Emperor’s attention. How to be...bedded.”   “You need to be strong.”   You rise to your feet at once, biting back angrily, “I’ve never even been touched by a man! How am I supposed to be strong?!” It’s easy for him to say. It always is to the outsider.   He doesn’t know what this means to you. You’ll never be able to find a husband after this. The peaceful life you dreamt of will be gone.    You will forever be stained as the Emperor’s previous consort, his whore or you will end up dead.    You’re not sure which is worse.   “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Your voice is shrill, desperate and full of pain as if you are asking Jungkook for an actual answer to your predicament.   Jungkook stands and places his firm hand on your shoulder. “There,” he says after a moment when you’ve calmed down, “you’ve been touched by a man.”   Irritation surges through you again at how lightly he’s taken your strife. “You know that’s not what I meant—”   Then you’re suddenly spun to face him, a strong grip at your waist. Your words become muted through the soft press of Jungkook’s lips. Your whimper is muffled by his mouth. It’s chaste. Careful. He allows you room to breathe, to feel the velvet texture of his lips or to pull away if you so choose to.    But you don’t move. Your eyes become half-lidded, gazing into his doe eyes that seem to be full of stars. Your hands come to grip his broad shoulder, his placed on the dips of your body so gently as if he were afraid to break you. And your heart swells dangerously inside your chest.   After a moment of his mouth moving against yours in a sweet kiss, Jungkook pulls apart.   Almost immediately, you tug him back to you again, not wanting the moment to end. You kiss him fervently and he lowly hums inside his chest, tongue peeking at the seam of your mouth, urging you to grant him access. It’s unsightly, the two of you unmarried and holding one another so intimately in the dark during this time of night. If anyone knew, it would be shameful.    But it’s only you and Jungkook in this small space.   Your lips part, allowing his hot tongue to lick into your mouth. And he angles his head, happily deepening the kiss. It makes you gasp for air, becoming breathless, but he doesn’t relent. Jungkook presses forward eagerly like he can’t help himself anymore. His hands come to feel up your body, the softness of your flesh through your clothing, the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your arms loop around his neck, back arching into his firm body. You relish in the sound of soft smacking filling the forest, feeling your face heat as his scent surrounds you.   And when you moan his name again in a desperate whine — “J-Jungkook.” — his lips start to trail down your jaw to your neck. He holds you as you lean into him. You pant, chest rising and falling, and you have half a mind to realize that your clothes have loosened.   The man begins to suck a spot at the juncture of your neck by your exposed collarbone, claiming you possessively. Your entire body heats for him, your stomach fluttering. His name befalls your lips again in a whine and this time, it seems to snap him from his trance.   Jungkook pulls away from you.    Enough distance that if your arms stretched, it would barely be able to reach him.   He wipes his sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “We...we should go back,” he says, winded.   You merely nod, not uttering a single word. The two of you don’t need to speak to know that this can’t be continued further. It wouldn’t be good for either of you.   But you’re still stunned as you follow him back to where the others are. Your eyes trace Jungkook’s backside and you nibble into your swollen lips. The taste of cinnamon lingers.   //   The capital is close — you can tell by the way travelers aren’t as sparse and the rich attire that adorns their body. Their expressions are bright and friendly, innocent from the fear of theft or strangers stealing their food. There are no hollowed eyes and cheeks peering at you blankly, no hands clasped together to silently beg for some grains to satisfy the shriveling stomachs.   By afternoon, the carriage is brought to a halt again.   “I’ll be going ahead first,” Jungkook announces as he sits on top of his horse. “It’ll seem less suspicious.”   The other seem to take little issue, but before Jungkook rides off into the distance, his gaze lingers on you. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, one where you’re not sure if you should bid farewell to him or not, one where you wonder when the next time is going to be.   But before you can utter a single syllable, he turns and whips the reins. The horse gallops off, hooves marked in the dirt. You stare at his backside diminishing before you’re called back into the carriage to carry on.   You arrive no later.   The palace is grander than anything you’ve ever witnessed, stretching across the horizon. The red roof and golden trim are vivid against the town even from the distance. Once the guards at the stone wall are briefly spoken to, the magnificent gates creak open and you’re brought into a different world, one protected from outside life. There are hundreds of servants with downcast heads and folded hands scattering across the vast courtyard, winding pavilion paths bordering each structure. Even from peering out the tiny window, your neck aches with how much you have to crane your neck to see it all.    But you quickly snap out of your awe.   This isn't paradise. It’s your prison.   The gates close behind you, trapping you in its walls and after a minute, the carriage halts the final time.   “Consort Y/N, from the Park family.” Your title is declared and the curtain is roughly pulled back. You brace yourself as you’re guided out and you come face to face with two men, both middle-aged, and two women, the younger one keeping her head down and her hands folded.   Instantly, you lower your eyes with a polite smile and dip down. “It is a pleasure to be here. I am grateful to serve my duty.”    You maintain a soft-spoken voice, barely above a timid whisper. It feels foreign to act this way, but not completely unfamiliar. Even if your title has been stripped away and your family name has been wiped, you still are of aristocratic blood.   “Oh my! I haven’t seen you in so long!” One of the middle-aged men approaches you with half-moon eyes and a plump face. You’ve been spoken to enough that you know the minister’s name is Park Jimin and he’s supposed to be your uncle. “You’ve grown so much!”   “You look as healthy as I remember, uncle.” You offer a brighter smile and he chuckles heartily.   “Do I? I’m glad then. I think I’ve packed on a few pounds since your mother last saw me, but don’t tell her that or she may send me some more medication.”   In the midst of the lighthearted conversation, you realize that you’re being scrutinized by the other man. His hair is as dark as his eyes, gruff around his mouth and chin but his features are sharp. He stands with his chin high, his spine straightened, his arms behind his back. His robes are a deep violet, silks luxurious and commanding attention. You’ve seen him before.   Jung Hoseok. The man who has stood in your family’s courtyard with the same posture as each member was brought out and executed. You had witnessed it from the gaps of the weaved basket that you were hidden in until Seokjin covered your eyes with his small hands. It was fifteen years ago, when you were merely five. But you still remember the iron stench of blood well.    The memory and his boring gaze makes you break into a sweat. It’s as if he’s tearing you apart limb by limb, trying to read your intentions and consider if you’re a threat. Fear drains blood from your face. And perhaps he notices because a moment later, he hums and smirks.   “Let’s not waste all day here.” Hoseok turns away. “Minister Park, there are many matters to attend to. Your greetings can continue later.”   “O-Of course.”   Hoseok glances at the older woman standing beside him and she nods, addressing you, “Come with me.”   “From now on, you are to serve the Emperor. I am going to assume that the Park family has taught you proper etiquette.” The head servant lady continues walking and you struggle to keep up with her and the servant. You don’t glance at the members who took you here as they retreat appropriately. From now on, you’re on your own. “If you step out of line, there is little anyone will be able to do for you. The Empress is difficult to please, but as long as you do what you’re told and say nothing more, then your time will be more pleasant.”   You’re brought into a room with two more female servants and the door is quickly slid shut.    “Strip.”   “P-Pardon me?”   The lady huffs in annoyance and steps forward. Her hands reach out and she begins to tug the ribbons of your clothes. You’re startled, immediately stumbling back out of her grasp. “I-I can do it.”   “You should get used to it,” she says as you shed your outer and inner coat. “There’s no point in being embarrassed anymore.”   Still, your fingers are slow to remove your clothing. After a moment, you’ve rid of your clothes, only keeping your modesty by the last thin white layer that hides your breasts and naked torso from plain view.   It seems to be enough and the woman begins to inspect your skin. She rounds you, examining you from head to toe. Then she holds your arm, lifting them at every angle, making sure there are no wounds or rashes that could infect the Emperor. Her eyes, however, eventually fall to your neck. Right at the spot where you remember Jungkook kissed you hard enough to bruise and your face heats at the memory.    “I was accidentally bitten by a bug yesterday on my way here,” you murmur to explain the subtle lilac stain. “I apologize for being so careless.”   “Nothing that won’t fade then,” she states and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. But then the woman suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks in one hand. She tilts your head to look up into her eyes and she studies your face carefully. She hums after a moment and lets you go.   You blink at her. “Is there something wrong?”   “You’re one of the prettier ones, that’s all.” The woman speaks softly as if it’s a shame — a shame that you’ve been brought here as the Emperor’s consort and that you couldn’t be wedded properly. You’re unable to dwell on her pity when the other girls take you by the arms and guide you to follow the woman when she walks off. The door slides open into an adjacent bedroom. “You’re going to be washed, cleaned, thoroughly. There’s not much time. You must be prepared for tonight.”   Your feet stop, blood running cold. “Tonight?”   The lady turns around, her gaze more sympathetic than before. “There’s no time to be wasted.”   You’re taken roughly, bathed in milky water with flowers plucked from the royal garden and rigorously scrubbed by two other servant girls until your own skin feels raw. Your nails are trimmed, hair combed before being looped and braided into a half-updo, holding golden hairpins that you would’ve never dreamed of ever having. The robes that are slid on you are soft silks, a light blush pink that matches the peony flowers your mother once had in her own garden. And your lips are pressed with red pigment, eyes lined, cheeks dusted with a rosy shade.   When they’re finished, you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror.   “The Emperor isn’t difficult to please, but one must know not to step out of line.”   “I understand.”   “All hail Empress Soojin!” There’s a clamour outside and the doors abruptly open. Instantly, the servants, including the head servant woman, sweep back and fold their hands together, bowing their heads. You also look to the ground, dipping down in the presence of the Empress.   “You must be the new girl. Lift your head,” she says and you come to meet cat-eyes narrowed in on you. The Empress is dressed in crimson robes with golden swirls, her dark hair in an updo with pins and luxurious decorations. But she is not worthy of her title from her clothing alone. Her aura is intimidating, her expression unyielding to anyone in the room. She carries herself like she knows she was born of importance, that the mandate of Heaven resides on her shoulders.   Empress Soojin looks at you with a scrutinizing eye that makes you fearful. But then she smiles.   “What’s your name?”   “Park Y/N, Your Majesty.”   “What do your parents do?”   “They are nobles. They have some land in the East. We grow wheat for Your Majesty.” The lies are easy, all part of a narrative that isn’t yours.   Her smiles eases even more. “Do a good job.”   “Yes.”   Empress Soojin is kind — more than what you expected someone in her position to be. You would not know how to feel if you were meeting yet another girl your husband was trying to conceive with. But you’re not foolish enough to be put off guard. You know far better than to fall for her facade.   At the end of the day, she is your enemy. She might poison you or kill you if she so chooses. And you know that your child will also be her child. If you do fall pregnant by some miracle, the baby would be taken away from you and given to her. To grow with her. To call her mother.   But you don’t dwell on these thoughts or let it be known.    Empress Soojin leaves once she’s satisfied with your appearance and a veil is put over you as the sun starts to dip over the horizon. The ceremony is about to begin, the jovial music already playing in the distance and muffled through the walls.    “It’s time.”   You’re led out of the room, lugging your heavy robes with you. But as you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.    Doe eyes stare into yours past the translucent veil.    Jungkook is dressed in navy robes with the royal emblem on it, his hair brought into a ponytail with a sheathed sword by his side. Something lodges into your throat. But you try not to let your eyes linger too long on him. After all, here he isn’t your brother’s friend or the companion on your journey. Jungkook is the Emperor’s guard. You are merely the Emperor’s new consort.   “I’m here to escort you by the Emperor’s orders.”   You don’t speak a word as you walk alongside him. Neither does he.   But when no one’s watching, you steal a glance at Jungkook from the corner of your eye and find that he’s peeking at you too.   The moment is too short.   The throne room is grandiose, golden pillars spiraling upwards to hold the high ceilings. The room is full of ministers sitting by and eating, young girls dancing to the deafening beat of the drums and the melody of the flutes. But even from the distance, you can see the Emperor seated at the throne beside the Empress and Jung Hoseok who stands to his right.    Your hand tightens into a fist until your nails have sunk into your palm.   “All hail Consort Y/N!”   You come to the bottom of the steps where Jungkook leaves you, resuming to the side of the stairs, and you lower yourself on your knees. “It is my honour to serve you, Your Majesty.”   Your expression remains impassive, demure perhaps. But inside you, the rage ignites.   Emperor Minseok who stood by and did nothing as the Kim Family, your family, was massacred. Left behind two children on accident to fend for themselves. Left the nation to soil as he was kept inside ravishing young girls and indulging in pleasures.    He isn’t an Emperor. He does not have the Mandate of Heaven.    He is a puppet.   Emperor Minseok’s eyes light. He scrambles upwards and pushes Empress Soojin aside, making her wince. But he still moves past her to sprint down the stairs and comes to you like a child getting a new toy.   Instantaneously, your veil is thrown off.   The child-like man gasps in excitement. “You’re pretty!”   Hoseok, the person you know well as the mastermind orchestrating the entire court and country, the king’s personal advisor, approaches with a smile. “I am glad you are satisfied with the new girl, Your Majesty. But you must show restraint.”   The Emperor enthusiastically nods, but still takes your hand. He pulls you up the stairs and leads you to sit on the other side of him, something the Empress is visibly mortified at in spite of staying quiet.    “Continue the celebration,” he announces and the music commences once more with the pleasant laughter of the ministers. Minister Park has a twinkle in his smile and slightly raises his cup towards you before taking a sip. Jungkook, on the other hand, faces forward with a blank expression as if he were a statue. “What’s your name?”   Your eyes tear away from the doe-eyed man. “My name is Y/N. I am Park Minister’s niece, sire.”   There’s no reason to hide your first given name. It’s not like they would know who you and Seokjin are.   The ceremony and dancing continues, held as an excuse to welcome you and give fortune to tonight’s conception. In reality, it’s for those in the court to indulge themselves. The Emperor fawns over you the entire time, asking many questions and trying to get you to eat to which you force yourself to swallow down the food. You’re nauseated, especially with the times he touches you, when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest, but you retain a shy disposition to not arouse suspicion of your true feelings.   It ends much too soon.   “His Majesty will be here shortly,” the servant informs you as you’re brought into the bedroom and before you can get in another word, the doors shut.   They’re listening — you know they are. Maybe other girls have run before you, tried to flee while they still had the chance. But no matter how strong the urge is, your feet stay rooted into the ground.    The bed is revolting to look at. The golden sheets that seem to reek of a luxury that you have never known and now imprison you. You feel sick, like you might throw up, but you hold it in.   Your eyes shut tight, trying to regain control of your breath, trying to dispel away your worries.   It will be quick. It will be over. It won’t change anything about who you are. You will survive.   This is something you must do.   The doors open with Emperor Minseok drunkenly stumbling inside after grabbing a hold of the door frame. He haphazardly slides it shuts and giggles once his gaze has set upon you. You swallow hard, moving back on instinct. He grins and bumbles forward.   “You’re so pretty, huh?” He strips off his overcoat and you fall to the bed, silently seated and gripping the edge. “C’mon, you can say something. Won’t scare you away, kitty cat.”   Emperor Minseok pushes you back and climbs over you with the carelessness of an eager but intoxicated man. He stinks of alcohol and you hold your breath, looking away. He snickers and then frantically pushes the many layers of your dress up as if he doesn’t want to waste any more time.   Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, but you comply, like a dead fish against the sheets. Your eyes shut tight and you think about what it means to make sacrifices...   The Emperor tugs his drawers down in one swoop and aligns his cock against your folds. His hips at once jut forward without warning and your teeth grit, holding in your pained whimper as he enters into you. It burns, aching to the point where your eyes are stinging. He groans above you, withdraws, thrusts into you once and then he’s coming.   As quick as five seconds.    The Emperor groans, eyes shut tight, and then he collapses on top of you.   It takes a moment, for you to gasp for air, to come back to your senses and then you’re shoving the sweaty man off of your body, freeing yourself of his heavy weight. Emperor Minseok snores, already worn himself out, and you curse at him silently while you pull the layers of your dress down.   It’s tempting.   You want to kill him — and it would be easy to do so. But it would mean your death, Seokjin’s everlasting grief over it and the likelihood that someone else will become Jung Hoseok’s puppet.   So you gather your wits and slide off the bed until you’re seated on the floor.   //   In the middle of the night, there’s a shadow at the doorway and a soft murmur of your name.   You grab a loose silk cover to wrap your body and open the door. The candle has long been blown out but you haven’t slept, stayed on the ground while the Emperor snorts in his slumber. You hadn’t expected to see anyone, not until morning at least, but it’s surprising to see Jungkook.   Although you’re not sure if that surprise is pleasant or not.   “What are you doing here?” you ask in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and wrapping your arms around your torso, away from the cold wind that brushes through.   If anyone saw him here, it could ruin everything.    You don’t know why someone like Jungkook would take that risk.   “I know. I just…” The more you allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the better you are at being able to discern the furrow of his brows and the way it mars his expression. “How...how was it?”   “How was it?” you spit at him. “What do you think?”   There’s a held silence. Neither of you speak.    But the moment anger surges through you, the upheaval follows.    Against your will, sobs begin to break through your frame. As intense as the day Seokjin delivered the news that you would have to do this. And the memories burst through, catching up to you.   It would have been fine if you were alone.   If you could pretend that it wasn’t bad, that it meant nothing. But the earnestly spoken question from Jungkook has brought forth the truth that you had so desperately tried to push away.   You cry, tears shedding down your face as you hold your face in your hands. You are oblivious to the way Jungkook’s fingers twitch, how his hands reach out, how he hesitates. But then he embraces you, pressing your face against his shoulder, his arms around your waist.   You grab onto him, latching on as if he is the only thing that grounds you to this insanity. You muffle your sobs, trying to keep them quiet before you’re found. You wish this was Seokjin.   But it’s Jungkook.   “I had a younger sister,” he tells you suddenly, calming your hiccups as he cradles you against him. “Her name was Jieun. She was brought in, just like you. Five years ago. She was taken in by force. All because she caught the eye of the Emperor.”   You pull away from him and he wipes a tear off your cheek, holding your face within his hands.   You didn’t know. Frankly, you don’t know anything about Jungkook, but to hear him tell you, for him to openly share is something you don’t take lightly. “W-What happened to her?”   “She was always weak and they mistook her sickness for pregnancy. When they found out she wasn’t, they hung her for supposedly losing the baby.” His whispers are quiet, but they carry a grief that you can barely understand. Jungkook’s eyes connect within yours.    Finally, you begin to understand. Why he started this, why he’s come here.    “I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening to you.”   You nod.   He didn’t need to come see you tonight. But you’re thankful he did.   //   “All hail Empress Soojin!”   The doors open with a parade of servants following the female who holds up her dress, entering through the doorway. You meet her halfway, head dipped and hands folded with a demure smile. Her eyes are narrowed in on you and you pay no mind when her servants begin to inspect the place, examining the bed sheets and any other evidence of last night’s affair.   “Good morning, Your Majesty.”   “How are you?” Her gaze sweeps across your body, lingering on your stomach.   “It was fine.”   The Empress lifts her hand and two more servants enter with a tray of food. They start to arrange the breakfast on the table. “You might be carrying a child, so it will be important to nourish yourself.”   You look at the dishes with a sense of queasiness. The last thing you want is food — you don’t think you could contain it in your stomach if you tried. And there’s a fear in your mind that she’s going to take this opportunity to poison you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did.   So you dip your head. “If you may pardon me, Your Majesty, I am not feeling hungry.”   “Don’t be foolish.”   “I—”   Your words are choked the moment your head is whipped to the side. Your cheek burns. The Empress’ hand print is embedded into your skin, her arm still raised in the air. Your eyes sting.   Even in your worst moments, you’ve never been slapped. Not by Seokjin. Not even by your parents.   “Her Majesty was kind enough to come here and offer you food but you dare deny her and talk back?” The servant beside her shakes her head in disapproval. “The Park Family has no manners.”   Immediately, you fall to your knees. Your head meets the carpet, right by her feet but she doesn’t see the way your teeth grit. “I apologize for my disrespect.”   Empress Soojin huffs in frustration and there’s a clamour as feet stomp out, making the room silent once more. It’s then that you lift yourself back onto your feet and pour the tonic she gave you into the plant.    You spend the rest of your day in your room after taking a bath, staying out of anyone’s way as you were told to do. But after nightfall, there’s news of Emperor Minseok planning to come see you. So you suppose you must’ve done something right for him to willingly reach out to you.   His body weight is heavy against you, your back molded against the bed.    “You’re very pretty,” he says for the millionth time.   You try to muster a smile, but keep your head tilted to stare at the wall, acting like you are much too shy. “Thank you.”   The Emperor is easily worked up, the very antithesis of control. He enters you and you bare through it, getting used to the action. But Emperor Minseok finishes in a mere three pumps, gripping at your thighs with a groan. He rolls over to sleep and you shove down your skirt.   If you could count the little fortune you have, you’re relieved he’s been too impatient to undress you properly. He’s neither kissed you nor laid a hand to the softest parts of your body.   Not like Jungkook.   //   The palace is unfamiliar. It’s a vast space that stretches across the plane and numerous structures gives room for ministers and servants you will never know the name of. The only person you truly know in these walls is Jungkook. He’s the only person to confide in, but there is little opportunity to see him, even if you long to.   But he comes to you, enough times to make you reassured that he is always there, following in your shadow. Though it’s never enough to fulfill your desires or relieve your yearning.   “What is this?”   You open the envelope he’s passed to you, pulling out the folded parchment. The two of you are hidden in an empty warehouse where supplies and weapons are kept in wooden crates. Grime lays in thick layers, cobwebs collected at the corners, but some specks of dust float in the air, seen by the sunbeams that pierce through the gaps of the planks covering the windows.   Your eyes widen at the familiar writing of the letter and your eyes skim the page to see Seokjin’s signature at the bottom.   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks to see your wide grin.   “H-How did you get it here?”   “We have servants working for us and a communication line coming in and out of the palace. It’s the way we exchange news.”   You nod, reading the letter and the kind words that are so much like Seokjin, encapsulating his personality with every ‘dear sister’. But the sentences are short and the content makes the blood drain from your face. There’s been delays of Seokjin getting into the palace.   They need more time. More than three months.   “There won’t be enough time.” Your hands drop, the letter put at your side. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. “I’m going to die.”   He doesn’t flinch, expression solemn, unyielding to this devastating news. “I will help you.”    “How?!”   “We’ll give them what they want. You won’t be executed if you’re carrying a child.”   “The Emperor is infertile—!”    But Jungkook isn’t.    And once the implications of his words sinks into you, you turn away to hide from his gaze, your voice shrill. “How could you….how could you even think of that? You’re as cruel as Jin. No one...no one has any regard for me whatsoever. It’s all about the country, the revolution.”   In the midst of your hysteria, he calls you. “Y/N.”   “You want to use me. You want to use my body,” you sob.   “I don’t want you to die,” Jungkook emphasizes and grabs you, spinning you around to look at him again. His hand wraps around your wrist, doe eyes staring into yours. Your breath hitches and it goes silent. “If there’s anything I can do within my control to help you, I will. I don’t want to feel powerless.” Jungkook’s grasp on you tightens, as if he is afraid to let go. “Not anymore.”   You recognize the pain in his eyes. It’s tangible. Earnest.   On instinct, you lean in, pressing your lips against his to console his worries. It’s a soft kiss, one where Jungkook’s nose brushes against yours and his hands lift to cradle your face. You succumb to the itch of having him close to you, giving into your carnal desires and the lust that has lingered in you after the kisses you two shared in the darkness of the forest that one night.   And Jungkook doesn’t hesitate either.    He touches you, fingers gently tugging the ribbons of your attire to slip off the inner coat and many layers they’ve cloaked you in. It’s freeing to be out of the silks. You can finally breathe again, but not for long when Jungkook kisses you until you’re gasping for air and your breath is stained with his.   You grasp at his own clothes, ridding them and his sword clanks to the ground.   His mouth moves from your jaw to the juncture of your neck, traveling down your collarbone and the valley of your breasts. He sucks at your flesh, greedy to mark every inch of it. Even if he doesn’t say it aloud, you can tell through his touches. He doesn’t want to use your body. He wants you.   “Jungkook.” The whine only spurs him on and you hold his head against you, fingers tangling to his hair.   It’s silent, except for the sounds of him kissing against your skin. Heat rises on your face, warming your cheeks. You don’t know how Jungkook can stay so careful and controlled. He never once rushes, giving plenty of opportunities for you to push him away if you so choose to.   But you don’t and he lays you on the soft hay collected in the corner of the warehouse.   You shy away from his attention, your naked body laid in front of him. But then he strips from the rest of his clothes, not letting you be the only one bare. Immediately, Jungkook reaches down to kiss you again, mouth pressed against yours like he has become dependent on your taste.   Jungkook readjusts you, getting you to sit on his lap facing him.   “Is this okay?”   You nod, gripping at his shoulders for leverage. His doe eyes lock into yours.   “Tell me if it hurts.”   “Okay.” Tears fog your vision. You’ve never been treated so gently before, not from a man or woman. While the circumstances are undesirable, bliss still blooms in your chest.    Jungkook licks his thumb and lowers his hand to continue to warm your center. You keen against him with a moan as he plays with your bud, rubbing your clit in circles and watching your expression carefully. Your slick begins to leak to his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind.   “J-Jungkook…”   Your eyes are teary, nose reddened from the cold. Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, your breaths laboured together. His cock lays thick in his hand, slit weeping with precum and the two of you look down, watching him align it to your folds.   His hips push up at the same time as you guide yourself down.    Jungkook groans. The pair of you are finally connected.    Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt. Far from it and the realization makes your cheeks hot to the touch. You’re snug around him, able to feel his head nudging against your cervix.   “A-Are you okay?” he asks and you nod several times fervently.    Instead of answering in words, you close the distance with another searing kiss.    Soft smacking fills the room with his tongue licking into your mouth. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, guiding you up and down your length while he meets you halfway. Your moans are muffled, his chest pressed against yours and you begin to sweat at your hairline.   You break apart.   “Jung—ko...ok.”   “Hmm?” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.   “Harder,” you whisper so quietly that you can't hear yourself. He blinks at you, not understanding and you throw away your pride, knowing that there’s no reason to be ashamed when you’re with him. “H-Harder, please. I’m not fragile.”   The corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile, “Okay.”   Soon, indecent noises of pounding fills the room. You hug one another, keeping each other grounded with your bodies. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your whines stifled against his warm skin. Jungkook tries to catch his breath, a cold cloud emitting from his parted lips.   It feels good. To have your warm and wet heat filled by Jungkook. To be stretched by him and feel him all the way to your throat. To have him so close to you. The pleasure is overwhelming.   Your slick coats his length, dripping down and making it messy where his thighs hits against your behind. It feels like you’re scratching an itch as you ride him, your cunt being bruised against his force. Pleasure thrums through you, thoughts turned to slush, surrounded in his scent. Your eyes are hazy and you feel feverish. All that befalls from your lips are broken and pitched whines of Jungkook’s name.   It gets sloppy and his strokes start to become short and frenzied in a staccato rhythm.   “J-Jungkook!”   He licks his thumb and rubs against your clit, making you sob out. Then, you come undone. You seize, squeezing around him. Light pierces through your eyelids and your toes curl. Pleasure overwhelms you until you’re spineless. At the same time, Jungkook pants heavily and his hips thrust upwards. A moment later, he’s cumming deep into your sopping cunt. His head is lodged right against the opening of your womb. Thick ropes painting your velvet walls. Hopefully to conceive.   “—Soojin visited the consort the morning after the ceremony.”   “Is that so?”   There are voices from outside and your eyes widen, lips stealing a gasp.   Immediately, Jungkook’s palm raises and cups your mouth. His brows furrow, eyes staying locked into yours and the both of you sit still, staying silent. You turn your heads and through the gaps of the wooden planks covering the window, you can see Hoseok and a minister brushing past.   “She’s never shown favour to any of the consorts.” They stop, right where you and Jungkook are naked, merely separated by a brick wall.   “Perhaps she sees something different from this girl than the others,” Hoseok hums. “Keep an eye on Empress Soojin and tell me if she does anything else out of the ordinary.”   Jungkook’s cum leaks from your center, dripping down his length.   “Yes.”   They finally pass and Jungkook’s hand falls from your mouth, finally taking a sigh of relief. Jungkook removes himself from you but only after he pushes his milky fluid back into you with his brows furrowed in concentration. He tucks his cum past your used fold into your heat.   Once satisfied, he gets up and puts back on his clothes.   You’re still reeling, not sure what to say or if you can even look him in the eye anymore. Part of you feels used. You’ve been passed from one man to the next, always with a purpose, a greater reason that your own desires. But then—   “Are you alright?”   Jungkook is tender, helping you up and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you get dressed again while you feel his cum drip down your thigh. It’s a reminder of the sins you have just committed together, something worthy of treason.   But it’s something you find yourself not minding doing again.   “I’m fine,” you murmur after you’re dressed again.   Jungkook stares at you silently, his eyes unable to be torn away from you. Then he leans forward as if driven on by sheer instinct. Jungkook’s mouth presses against yours in a sweet kiss. It catches you off guard. And then he parts with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for doing something unnecessary.”   “It’s okay.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t...mind.”   He nods and you turn before he can see your smile. Your hand press gently against your stomach as hope blossoms through you.

Time passes and maybe the Empress notices that you’ve been smiling more because she asks— “Are you feeling any differences?” — with a careful eye and something akin to anticipation.   “Not yet,” you answer with your head dipped. “But I’m sure it may happen soon.”   The Emperor has been seeing you two times a week. But you’ve been seeing Jungkook every other day.   If the two of you are lucky, one of these days a baby will stick to your womb and neither of you will have to be worried about how doom is impending. You have a feeling though; it’s going to work.   “Empress Soojin has personally ordered a tonic for you,” the head servant says as she enters with a tray and porcelain bowl filled with an amber liquid. “It will increase your fertility.”   Your eyes flicker from her face to the bowl and the servant softens. “Don’t worry. She won’t harm you if there’s a chance you could be carrying her child.”   You trust the woman and you ease your instincts, taking the tonic. And no later are you and Jungkook’s limbs tangled in the old warehouse again, away from prying eyes and ears.   But it’s taking too long.   There isn’t any news of Seokjin’s arrival, no movement from the rebellion group whatsoever and you can tell that Emperor Minseok is losing interest in you.   As you’re passing by the pavilion, you take a brief pause.   The servant behind you also stops, aware that you are watching the way Empress Minseok is drinking and laughing with other women, being served wine as he lies on giggling girls trying to catch his attention. You aren’t jealous, far from it. But you know nothing good will come out of his boredom with you, that it will only speed up your execution date if you are still without child. His favour would prove not only advantageous to you, but to Seokjin and Jungkook.   You’re supposed to preoccupy him after all, keep him distracted.   “All hail Consort Y/N.”   The doors to the Emperor’s chambers open right as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon. Emperor Minseok is having drinks and some dishes while there are two concubines looped around his arms.   “My beautiful consort!” He calls out to you with a grin, surprise evident on his features.   You muster a smile and dip down. “May I speak to you privately, Your Majesty?”   “Sure, sure.” He bats at the concubines, motioning at them to leave. They bow their heads and scatter out. Once alone, you lift your eyes to lock it into his. “Is there something wrong?”   “I just…” Your smile becomes shy. “...wanted to see you.”   Emperor Minseok bursts out laughing, hearty in his chest and grating to your ears. “You were lonely? Come sit.” He pats at tiny chicken thighs and you hold your breath, complying. You nearly slip off his leg, but his sticky hands are placed on your waist.   His nose digs into your neck and you accidentally flinch.    He notices, brows raising and you swiftly cover up your mistake with a smile. “It’s still...hard for me to have so much attention from you.” You fiddle with your fingers. “I’m not used to it.”   The man grins. “But you still came here.”   “Because I was lonely,” you confirm in a quiet whisper. “The palace is so grand, I don’t really know what to do…”   “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not caring about the topic of conversation anymore with the way he stares at you. It’s almost as if he’s entranced by your features and his hand reaches down to slink up your leg.   You abruptly stand and grab his collar, making him rise to his feet too. “The palace is beautiful, especially the gardens. But it’s lonely to go flower viewing by yourself.”   Emperor Minseok cups your cheek. “Then I’ll come with you next time.”   You turn away, out of his grasp. “I could never ask that of Your Majesty. I can’t be selfish and you are always so busy. Actually...I…”   “What is it?”   You duck your head, playing a bashful act. “I try to look at your painting to satisfy my loneliness.”    Emperor Minseok chortles again and you spin around with a tiny pout. You step forward until he’s fallen onto his bed, amused at your boldness. “But it’s hard,” you say as you begin to climb on top of him. “There’s not many paintings of you.”   You position yourself so he’s underneath you. You straddle his hips, a coy smile at your features. “For a grand palace like this, one would think there would be more.”   “You’re right.” The Emperor is breathless, already excited after barely ten seconds. His greedy hands come up to grab your bottom, but you push him off so he doesn’t touch you.   “My father once commissioned a painter,” you murmur as you slowly tug his trousers down. “He was quite immature and eccentric, but his skills are unrivaled with.”   “W-What is his name?” His eyes watch you, pathetically salivating. You wonder if he’s going to cum in his pants already.   “I...think his name was Kang Seokjin,” you lie, quirking your head to the side. You grab his tiny, red cock that looks like it’s about to burst and he groans. “Have you never heard of him? He’s quite infamous in the East.”   “I-I’ve never.”   You hum, tugging your many skirts up and his eyes pin to your exposed skin. “Well, he’s a free-spirit and rarely does paintings, even for people who pay for it. Gold doesn’t buy him. My father had to beg him for weeks and even then he was reluctant.”   He scoffs. “He would never deny the Emperor.”   “Of course.” You align him up to your pink folds. Yet, you linger, putting the crumbling man under you in great suspense. “But…”   Emperor Minseok blinks at you, becoming impatient. “But?”   “You never know till you try, right?”    You drop down like the way Jungkook taught you to. You know better now how to satisfy a man, how to satisfy yourself, what kind of rhythm works best. But it only takes two swivels of your hips and one groan from him until he’s done and finishes. Emperor Minseok has tired himself out and succumbs to the seduction of sleep almost immediately with a smile on his face.    You roll off of him as he starts to snore.   You feel disgusted — skin grimy and crawling, the pit in your stomach growing with queasiness, revolted at what you had to do. But you know bathing and scrubbing your skin until it’s raw won’t be enough to satisfy you. It won’t be enough to cleanse yourself from him. So you leave the Emperor’s chambers as quickly as you came, abandoning the greasy man on the bed and shutting the doors behind you.   In the dark, you hurry as fast as your feet can take you.    You’re out of breath by the time you’ve twisted through the structures and pavilions. But relief comes in the form of a doe-eyed, dark-haired individual. The person you’ve been wanting to run to.   The person you’ve been yearning for.   “What are you doing here?” he scolds sharply, standing as you slide the doors behind you. The candlelight flickers, providing a dim glow on the profile of his face. “What if someone saw you?”   “They didn’t and they won’t.”    The bedroom Jungkook’s stationed in is tiny, a round table and two stools with a large opening for where his bed fits into the wall as if it were built in. But none of it matters to you. You don’t care that he has nothing but a sword and some folded clothes. All you care about is that he’s here.   “And what if you were caught?”   “Every time we do this, we risk getting caught.” You quiet his worries by closing the distance. You cradle his cheeks in your palm and kiss him frantically, sealing your mouth against his.   Jungkook hums to the sweet taste of your lips, licking into your hot mouth, but then he pulls away. “Wait.” His hands secure around your shoulders and he searches your expression after noticing the way your eyes have become teary. “Is there something wrong?”   You shake your head. “I just want you. Is...is that so bad?”   The candle is blown out, flooding the room in a comfortable, intimate darkness. But close up, you can still see Jungkook with the faded moonlight coming through the paper walls.    His back falls against the bed, but Jungkook doesn’t give you a long opportunity to climb and sit above him. He whirls you around until it’s your body that molds against the soft surface of his bed, preferring to take care of you than vice versa. And when he undresses you and sees the sopping mess between your legs, he understands what this is all about.    Why you’re so desperate for his touch.   “Let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs tenderly, not at once hesitating and you nod.    Jungkook kisses you again, deep and earnestly until you’re panting against him and he’s swallowing your exhales. Then his mouth travels downwards, careful this time not to leave a bruising mark against your skin where others could see in spite of longing to mark you. The man’s tongue ends up wrapping around your soft breast, allowing the bud to pebble underneath the warm muscle. You keen into him with a sob, arms wrapped around his neck and he continues mercilessly.   His lips travel down to your stomach and once your skin has gotten warm to the touch, your body writhing against the sheets stained with his scent, he positions you upwards. On his lap. Facing him.   Jungkook brushes away the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and he gently holds your chin, turning your head so your eyes can lock into his. “Look at me,” he pleads in a husky timbre.   You nod and he positions himself at your dripping center, allowing you to drop down when you choose to. And when you do, the two of you groan while keeping your gazes connected.   It feels like he’s filled a void that you didn’t know was there. He’s a snug fit around your velvet heat, stretching just enough that pleasure thrums through you. “J-Jungkook.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat, understanding what you’re feeling and he leans in for another kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours and drawing more sounds out of you.   The two of you work with each other. Your hips swivel as he pounds upwards into you, pelvises rubbed against one another to clear away Emperor Minseok’s fluids. Jungkook works hard while you squeeze and the cum drips out of you in clumps. It sticks to your thighs and his thick length, drying unpleasantly, but soon it’s only your wetness that comes out from your center.   Jungkook’s hands hold your body, touching you anywhere you guide him to. And you lean onto his sturdy frame, holding onto his built shoulders. Finally, you feel clean. You feel loved.   You kiss him again and his thrusts stutter.   It’s intimate, the sounds of gasping breaths and skin slapping on skin filling the darkness.   Jungkook can tell you’re close and rubs against your clit mercilessly and you cry, quickening your own pace to chase after your pleasure. But before you can finish, he turns your head again.   “Look at me, Y/N,” he says and you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.   You cum while looking into Jungkook’s doe eyes, trying your best to keep them open. And as you squeeze around him, hugging against his cock, he cums. Deep into your heat, right at your cervix. Claiming you as his. Ropes of milky white spurting in then leaking down out of your folds.    All while keeping his tender gaze trained on yours.   You kiss Jungkook again, letting him soften within you, keeping him here just a moment longer.   You love Jungkook. It’s a fact that you don’t want to face in light of the situation — one that you had tried to deny for the sake of your own sanity, but it’s all too true. You love him. And every time he holds you, it feels like you’re making love together. If only things were different, maybe you could’ve had a future together. Maybe you could’ve gotten Seokjin’s blessing and married Jungkook, started a family together and lived a humble life for the rest of your days.   But that desperate and simple wish seems so far out of reach.   Overwhelmed with emotion, you try to keep your tears at bay. Yet, they shed down your cheeks and in the intimate darkness, Jungkook holds you close to him.

It’s one afternoon while you’re walking in the gardens with the poor servant assigned to you following closely behind that you recognize a dark-haired, mischievous individual that you had missed. But you don’t call out to your brother, no matter how much you want to. You keep yourself poised, distant.   “Oh, Consort Y/N. Glad to see you wandering,” the head eunuch, a man you’ve spoken to little, says with a smile.   You keep your head lowered, a tiny smile that is all too genuine on your features. “Empress Soojin said it would be good for my health, so I have followed her instructions.”   “Well yes. Indeed it is.” He grins and then seems to remember the taller, younger man beside him. The head eunuch steps aside and motions towards your older brother. “This is Kang Seokjin. He is a painter from the East that Emperor Minseok has commissioned. Seokjin, this is the Emperor’s most recent consort, Consort Y/N. But I believe you have met before.”   “Only briefly.” You lift your eyes towards your sibling who smiles. “It is nice to see you again.”   “Yes, nice to see you again.” Seokjin’s eyes speak more than his words do and the two of you look at one another for a long moment, exchanging meaningful expressions and taking in the differences that two months have done.   “Well, I must head off now.” You break away the stare, keeping yourself unsuspicious. “It was pleasant to meet your acquaintance again.”   You pass Seokjin, but the two of you look at one another from the corner of your eyes.   He’s finally in the court and a sense of relief fills you. If a few more ministers agree to turn against the Emperor, everything will be complete. It’s Seokjin’s turn to act and now only time will tell.

In the middle of the night when the palace has gone asleep, you sneak from your quarters.   The dirty warehouse has become your sanctuary with Jungkook, a place you’ve grown fond of because it holds your most precious memories. It was this place that you looked forward to the most. That kept you sane. That always promised that your favourite person was waiting inside.    It’s tonight with the full moon out that you get to savour the moment. After the deed has been done, you’re slumped in Jungkook’s arms, naked with just his outer coat around your shoulders.   You take his right hand, uncurling his fingers. Carefully, you trace letters against his warm palm.   “Kim?” Jungkook questions after a moment of concentration.   “Kim means gold,” you murmur and trace more letters against his skin. With your head leaning against his chest, you can hear his soothing heartbeat in your ear. “Seok means great. Jin means precious. Together, it means great gift or big treasure.”   If things were different, you would’ve liked to be a scholar. Transcribing books all day long or writing your own, perhaps creating poetry about nature. As a child, you hated studying and preferred to play like Seokjin did. But it was now that you yearned for those simple times again.   You know Jungkook’s name too and you trace each letter against his palm with your index finger carefully. “Jeon means rice. Jung spindle tree. Kook is country. Together, it means to have a beautiful country.”   “Pillars of the nation,” he clarifies quietly. “Or at least that’s what I think my grandfather intended when he named me.”   “They’re such great names. I hope….the name of our child will be meaningful too,” you hum drowsily while dreaming of the possibilities. “If it’s a boy, Minkook, the country of the people. If it’s a girl, Yujin, meaning full of stars…”    The both of you know you won’t be able to name your child. Not if it’s born within these stone walls. Not when everyone believes it is the Emperor’s. The baby will be taken away from you the moment it’s out, raised while calling the Empress their mother and you would be a nobody.    But then Jungkook dispels away your anguish, even if it’s just for a second. “They’re beautiful names.”   The corner of your lips quirk and you blink sleepily. You tell him about your dream, a memory of the future you have conjured to comfort you, “They would be raised in a quiet home on top of a hill. Where we could see the sunset and sunrise every day. There would be grass where the children could play. A river nearby to wash the clothes too…”   Jungkook’s arms tighten around you and you feel the press of his lips against your temple. “That would be perfect.”   You hum again silently with a smile, falling asleep with Jungkook right beside you. And it’s all you know you can have.   //   Empress Soojin enters your chambers the moment you are doubled over in a copper bowl, the contents of last night’s dinner squeezed painfully from your stomach. The world is on an axis, your head dizzy since you had awoken. But when you realize she’s standing there and taking in your crumpled form, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try to stand.   “Your Majesty…”    The Empress rushes over to steady you, her eyes wide and full of surprise. “You feel nauseous?” Your expression meets hers, your face drained of all blood. The silence speaks for itself. Empress Soojin immediately whirls around to her parade of servants, anticipation etched on her features. “Call the physician!”   No sooner are you laid in the bed with the physician pressing two fingers on your wrist, quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. The Empress is crowding around, her hands gathered together but still trembling. Then the old man lifts his head with brightened eyes.   “She has been with child for two months now. It’s extraordinarily healthy and strong.”   Empress Soojin stumbles back. Her palm is pressed against her chest, her breath staggering out of her parted lips. And you lift yourself, your hand laid on your stomach that has yet to swell.   It’s your child and Jungkook’s.   “From now on, only consume cold foods and make sure it is properly cut or mashed,” he says as he wobbles to his feet. “Avoid shellfish and pineapple too. I will prescribe a herbal tonic that you can take daily.”   “Thank you.” Empress Soojin is grinning and comes to your side to envelop you in a warm embrace that you aren’t used to. “Are you still feeling unwell? Are you hungry? It is important to nourish yourself for this baby.”    When you shake your head, having no appetite, she nods and looks around. “This place is so rancid and dusty.” The Empress spits several servant’s names and they step forth with bowed heads. “Clean this room immediately! We will go on a walk in the meanwhile and get fresh air.”    There is little you can do to deny the whims of the Empress who’s more alive than you’ve ever seen her before. So while your room is cleaned and redecorated with luxurious sheets and golden vases, you’re guided by her on a walk around the garden.   The news spreads like wildfire, passing from servant to servant to official declarations.   Within a few minutes, Emperor Minseok is bounding over. There’s a grin plastered on his sweaty face, the strands of his hair sticking together. He’s out of breath, still in horseback riding gear like he had gotten off a few seconds ago and you recognize Seokjin behind him in the same attire.   “You’re expecting a child?!” Emperor Minseok exclaims loudly, startling you. He’s jumping and you muster a stiff smile, not sure what you should say. But he doesn’t give you an opportunity to. He immediately reaches out to your stomach with his greasy and soot filled hands. “Is it moving?”   But he never lays a hand on you.   Empress Soojin slaps his hand away and her brows furrow sternly. “The child is at a delicate stage. These are not trivial matters.” She pinches her nose. “And the horses’ stench that you’ve brought here is defeating the purpose of coming out here for fresh air.”   “Of course, of course.” Emperor Minseok smiles, retracting his arm.   Your eyes meet Seokjin’s and the corner of his mouth quirks warmly into a familiar smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May your child have great blessings as you do.”   You bow your head, trying to not prolong your gaze and arouse suspicion. “Thank you.”   “But…” Emperor Minseok’s eyes flicker between you and the Empress. “Does this mean I will get another concubine soon since I can’t play with Y/N anymore?”   Immediately, Empress Soojin is distraught. Hurt comes across her features as if she’s been slapped and for once, you sympathize with her. She never answers, merely turning around. “We should get you back inside for some rest. It’s not good to be in the cold wind for too long.”   You nod, glancing at your brother behind your shoulder and after a moment, you follow her.   But as you’re making your way back, your path is intercepted by Jungkook on his way to the courtyard. He’s dressed in black robes that match his long hair tied back, holding a sheathed sword as always. Yet what’s different from before is the tenderness of his eyes.   Jungkook doesn’t need to speak for you to understand. You’ve come to learn all the ways he communicates through silence.   “I heard about the news,” he says and you slow to a complete stop. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”   “Thank you.” You savour the moment, looking at him with a soft smile.    To the Empress who turns around to see the delay, the exchange is simply between a guard and consort without connection. She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance.   //   There’s many good wishes and felicitations given to you. Even Minister Park, your supposed uncle, makes an extravagant gesture by personally delivering a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables that makes Empress Soojin command the servants to re-wash. But the person you least expect to receive praise and blessings from is Jung Hoseok. In spite of that, he is here in your room, having shown up suddenly.   It’s a surprise and you struggle to get up from your bed.   “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “You don’t really need to stand—”   You muster a smile and manage to sit up. “It’s quite alright. I was always taught that the least I can do is greet a guest properly.”   The thin, middle-aged man rubs the gray scruff on his chin and you can feel his sharp eyes that probe into you. The way he studies you carefully would cause sweat to bead along your forehead if not for how safe you feel. It’s not from Empress’ insinuated promise of protection or that you’re abstained from execution or knowing Jungkook would defend you at any cost either.    Ever since you’ve found out that there was life budding within you, you’ve felt safe.   You’re no longer alone. No matter where you go, you carry someone else with you.   And now there’s never been a stronger reason for you to fight, to be strong and unafraid.   “I heard the physician was called this morning,” Hoseok says.   “It was just morning sickness.”   The man hums, arms shifting to place behind his back. “Well, the Empress made quite an uproar.”   “She often worries about me and the child,” you state plainly and it almost sounds like a threat, one Hoseok visibly acknowledges with a cocked brow. But you don’t dwell, clearing your throat and putting a pleasant expression on your face. “May I ask for what reason you’ve graced me with your presence?”    “I just wanted to visit the future emperor.” Hoseok’s eyes linger on your stomach and his smile becomes wry. “It’s quite a miracle, isn’t it? It’s no secret that there has been….some difficulty for a child to be produced. And for it to last this long too. The physician said it was exceptionally strong.”   Your smile stretches, but mirth never reaches your eyes. “The Mandate of Heaven grants miracles. It must be a divine wish and I am honoured to be the one fulfilling it.”   “Yes.” He nods and then notes, “well, you’ve gotten close to the Emperor’s guard, haven’t you?”   “I have no idea what you mean.”   Hoseok eyes you and it goes silent.   Then, you sit back down with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead. You gasp for breath and bat at yourself. “I’m beginning to feel faint. I think I need to lay down. It would be best if you were to leave, minister. God forbid...something happens to this child otherwise.”   Hoseok scoffs, but turns to exit.   Your fist clench, wrinkling the sheets underneath your hold. You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Jungkook’s child.   //   The fourth month milestone of your pregnancy is eventually reached without many qualms or complications. You’re less nauseous than you were before, but the queasiness has been replaced with hunger that often strikes in the middle of the night. You’re given teas and tonics, tested to make sure there is no poison — something Empress Soojin obsesses over and screams if there’s even a hair in the liquid which you’re still not sure if it’s worth laughing about or being scared of. Your breathing has become laboured too, even after short walks.   But most importantly, you’ve begun to feel strange sensations. Flutters in your stomach that the physician says is the movement of the child and when they happen, you can’t help caressing the bump that’s not so tiny anymore.   While things have been going smoothly, you’ve been put under strict monitoring for a whole month.   You’re protected, out of harm’s way. The only people who visit you are the physician, the head servant, a few other servants, and Empress Soojin who constantly and excessively frets over you — her incubator to her supposed baby. Her kindness and concern is meant for the child, not for you and you’re fully aware. It’s not that it matters to you, but it’s something you keep in mind.   You’ve heard the Emperor has found himself new concubines to preoccupy his time with too. Ever the same as he disregards matters of the nation to have innocent girls and conniving concubines lay underneath him. At least you’re untouchable to him now, out of reach and far away.   But it comes at a price.   You can’t see Seokjin. And you can’t see Jungkook either.   Your only connection to him is the swelling of your stomach, a sizable bulge that you can rest your hands against.   You miss Jungkook — so much that it hurts to think about. And it’s yearning for him constantly that makes you question your ears when you hear his voice whispering your name one night.   But it isn’t your imagination.   “J-Jungkook?”   “Don’t get up,” he says, shadow laid against the paper walls of your room. Your eyes trace against the black outline, lump forming in your throat at how this is the closest you can get to him. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that in three days, it’s happening. The ministers and other government officials have agreed to turn against the Emperor and Jung Hoseok. They’re going to force him to abdicate.”   He did it. Seokjin did it. The realization has tears flooding your vision.   “I’ll come for you,” he promises.   The tall shadow moves away, but you call out to him before he leaves—   “Jungkook.” He stops at the soft enunciation of his name, a beck and call made with emotion. And your heart stutters, knowing that the day your yearning will cease is coming close. “The physician thinks it’s a boy. I do too.”   He lingers.   If you could see him, you’d find an affectionate smile stretching into his cheeks.   Jungkook murmurs, “I hope Minkook will be as handsome as his father and as strong as his mother.”   Tears stream down your face. The corner of your lip lifts as Jungkook’s shadow fades.   //   You count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds. They pass by tediously, but excitement swells in your chest as you consider that in three days time, you will have freedom. A life with Jungkook. Seokjin by your side. Your child in your arms, never to be taken away from you.   It’s all you wished for since you stepped foot into the palace. But perhaps even before then.   You might’ve never loved Jungkook the way you do now or yearned to hold your healthy baby close to you, yet it has always been clear that doing anything and being anywhere would’ve been better than here. Even with the careful treatment you receive, this isn’t what you want.   So you wait. Patiently. For the promised day to arrive.   But it’s the day before the expected overthrow that there’s chaos in the middle of the night.    “Y/N!” You’re shaken away by Empress Soojin. Her sudden appearance shocks you out of your peaceful slumber and you’re left gasping for breath. But she’s frantic, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. She’s still in her nightgown, hair in a disarray. The woman holds you by your shoulders, making you rise. “There’s something going on. I—I n-need to bring you to safety.”   The Empress guides you upwards, shouldering your weight. Once you’re on your feet again, she grabs a silk overcoat and secures it around your shoulders. “Quickly. There’s no time to waste.”   “Your Majesty.” You try to shake the sleepiness away, wondering if it was all a dream. “What’s going on?”   One of your hands is held in hers while the other rests underneath your swollen stomach, supporting the heaviness of the baby. “There’s a carriage waiting for you.”   There’s yelling from the distance, footsteps on the roof that make your head tilt. But you’re unable to discern what they’re saying, what’s occurring. All you know is that you’re about to be sent away. Without Seokjin — without Jungkook.    “Wait.” You struggle to catch up to her pace, confusion inhibiting your movements. Yet she still pulls you along, past the structures and paths shrouded in darkness. “I can’t leave.”   “It doesn’t matter,” Empress Soojin says, more serious than you’ve ever had the chance of witnessing. “You have to protect the baby at all costs.”   She’s desperate to protect you, to protect your child. She came to you first when she could’ve run on her own and left you asleep. She chose to keep you from harm over her own well-being.   Time and time again, Empress Soojin has made sure you were watched over.   And the realization makes guilt well up your throat.   Your steps slow and your arm tugs her back.   “This baby,” you whisper, “it doesn’t belong to who you think it does.”   But Empress Soojin’s hand tightens on yours and she turns around. Her brows are drawn together, the corners of her mouth tilted in a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t matter,” she spits in the midst of your shock and continues pulling you. “The child is supposed to be mine. It will be mine. It’s the only way I can be a mother.”   Before you can get a single word out, she turns the corner and there are deafening shouts. A clamour of feet stomping against the wooden floorboards, the clinking of heavy armour following grunts— “Stop right there!”   “Stand down!” Her voice is unwavering, strong as she pushes you behind her. “I am your Empress—!”   But they are Hoseok’s guards.    You recognize them from having followed the man around, from standing by during the ceremony and other celebrations you’ve been a spectator to. They have sworn their allegiance to him. Not to Emperor Minseok and most certainly not to Empress Soojin.   But she doesn’t seem to understand she’s been caught, that she’s a mouse cornered by two felines. She is naive and continues to scream at them for their disobedience. You try to tug her away, to get her to run, yet her pride is much too strong and you’re yanked away.    Sideways. The collar of your coat is taken by the bloodied knuckles of the guard. Stumbling. He clicks his tongue in annoyance at the ear-piercing Empress and in an effort to silence the ordeal, his weapon raises against you. His sword is high in the air, prepared to slash and end this nightmare.   Except, his blade never hits you.   Even when you shut your eyes, wrap your arms around your stomach to protect your child, hitch your breath, bracing yourself for the cut…..   “NO!”    Empress Soojin throws herself in front of you, her arms outstretched, allowing herself to take the blow as she is ripped from across her right shoulder to the left hip. She spits blood, warm crimson spewing out and splattering onto your cheeks. The world seems to come to a stop.   Your breathing ceases. The guard’s eyes shake for having hacked the Empress herself.   Yet she does not yield in spite of the wound that drips blood to the floor in droplets with a steady rhythm, that soaks into her white nightgown, marring the clean colour. She lurches forward, grabbing a torch attached to the wall and shouts, “Stay back!”   Her yell is howled out from her throat, jarring to the ears, full of wrath and will. And she throws the torch, allowing searing flames to engulf the corridor.   The guards stagger backwards with widened eyes and after a delayed moment, they retreat with profanities before the smoke can engulf their form.   Empress Soojin collapses.   You drop down to her as sobs wreck through your frame. As calculating and thoughtless as she has been, she has never once been insincere to you. She has never abandoned you. You cradle Soojin’s head into your lap, trying to wipe at her mouth with the sleeve of your silk overcoat. But she bats your arm away. Her hazy eyes remain connected with yours.   “P-protect the child…..prom...ise me…”   You nod, tears staining your cheeks forevermore. But you stand, finding leverage against the wall that was slowly being consumed by the sweltering fire and you run. As fast as your weak knees allow you to.   You leave Soojin behind — laying on the floor — staring up at the ceiling.    She dies before being taken by the fire bleeding through the palace.   You run, unsure of where to go but away from the uproar of people, the bloodshed and clashing of swords, away from the blazing inferno, collapsing ceilings and smog that chases your shadow. And it’s when you begin to lose breath and come to a four-way path that you nearly collide with another body.   A scream tears out of your chest until you find warm, familiar eyes.   “Jin?!”   Your brother’s hands secure around your shoulders and he lowers himself for your gazes to meet. “Are you alright?” His chest rises and falls, steadying his breathing as well and you notice the sword dangling by his side, unsuitable and much too lanky. Seokjin has always suited brushes and books more than weapons — something you wish you had told him sooner.   “I—I’m fine, but Empress Soojin. I...I left her behind and she’s wounded. There’s fire….fire!”   “Y/N,” Seokjin calls you calmly and sternly. “Are you okay?”    You nod and he sighs, pulling away. “Then that’s all that matters.”   “What’s going on, Jin?! I thought the abdication was going to be tomorrow.”   “Some of the ministers changed their minds last minute. They decided they wanted to remain loyalists to the Emperor for fear of their families being punished. The revolt has been moved up.”   “Revolt?! I thought….I thought they were just going to force him to abdicate!” You didn’t know that there would be such violence. That all of this was planned prior. It makes you queasy.   “Sometimes sacrifice is needed,” Seokjin merely states. “But you don’t have to worry. We still have the majority of the ministers’ support. They would’ve still voted in favour of abdicating the Emperor from his throne.”    Your brows are drawn tightly together and you shake your head. “What does that mean?”   “It means we’re going to win.” Your older brother smiles, his eyes crinkling, a sense of elation evidently filling his features. But you wonder what the cost of the rebellion coming to fruition is. “I know you’re not carrying the Emperor's child. It’s Jungkook’s, isn’t it?”   Seokjin searches your expression for any confirmation, but unlike how you thought he would be wary of your relationship with his close friend and the dangers that came along with it, he appears more relieved.   “Jungkook told me,” he explains, “and I told him to come find you. Stay here, alright?”   “What?” You grab a hold of your older brother before he can run off, before he can disappear with your worry for him being abandoned with you yet again. “Where are you going?”   “I’m going to find Hoseok before he can run away. I’m going to give him what he deserves.”   Every syllable is spoken with malice, a sharpness and anticipation flooded between each pause.    But you hang onto Seokjin, refusing to let go. You gaze at your sibling, his eyes and hair that appear darker in this lack of lighting, the downturn of his mouth, his shoulders and frame that seem to have gotten thinner in the months you haven’t seen him. You’ve missed Jin so much.   And at this moment, you don’t care that the fire is spreading through the palace. That there was smoke already spread at the ceiling. Bloodshed and pitched screams not far from where you stand. You turn deaf to those noises, to the crackling of the flames, the uprising’s cry.   “Do you really need to do this? Isn’t this enough already?”   “No. It’s not. I won’t be satisfied until I know that bastard hasn’t run away.”   “Please, Seokjin,” you beg with your entire frame, fingers tightening on his sleeve until your knuckles have turned white. You do all that you can to reach him, begging him, pleading with him as his younger sister. “D-Don’t go. I miss you. We’re….we’re family. I only have you left and I...I don’t want you to go anymore. Stay with me, please. Please, please, that's all I ask.”   You remember. Days under the sun where you would follow him. Days he would take dull sticks and poke you incessantly. Days he would piggyback you and tell you stories he made up off the top of his head. That day the two of you hid in the woven baskets and witnessed the massacre of your family until he covered your eyes with his small hands still dirty from picking flowers.   “Don’t go.”   But Seokjin’s has already made up his mind. All by himself.   You can tell with the way his eyes become saddened, how he merely leans in to plant a kiss at your forehead, how he pulls out of your grasps. Seokjin runs off and you try to chase him as if you were still children playing games in the forest. But just like then, he’s faster than you are.   “Seokjin!”   He runs, disappearing into the darkness.   “Jin!” And you’re left alone. Abandoned. Sobbing heart wrenchingly until your whole being aches. “Kim Seokjin!”   You call out to him to no avail, watching the backside of your only brother fading away.

Seokjin hears you, loud and clear. But he doesn’t turn around.    He twists around the corner, sword slashing anyone who comes in his way. After years of training, it’s no longer difficult to drive his blade into bodies and let their blood splatter on his hands. It’s rather easy when he consumes himself in his hatred and anger.   Seokjin kills any guards still wearing the royal emblem or those who have sworn their allegiance to Jung Hoseok, and any ministers who have decided to stay as loyalists. He spares servants, letting them run past him as they cry, begging for mercy. And he persists, even when he has to lurch forward, the gash of his shoulder dripping of his blood and the nicks on his face sting painfully.   He makes it to the grand throne room. The red carpet is rolled in front of him, golden candle lights providing piercing luminescence but making his own shadow darker. This is the place that once held extravagant celebrations to welcome the Emperor’s consorts that were disposed of months later, that held dancers and musicians for the entertainment of the ministers, that failed to save the nation from poverty and famine.   And now, Seokjin finds Hoseok seated on the throne.    The man is alone. Pouring his last cup of wine to drink.   “Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin’s voice booms across the hall, his steps finding vigor as they close the distance. “You can’t run anymore!”   “I know,” the middle-aged man says after he sips and smacks his lips, savouring the taste of wine. “I know I’ve lost. It must feel good to undermine my position, huh? I should’ve known better than to underestimate you, but those are things of the past. I can’t change them now.”   His calmness exasperates Seokjin to his core.   And Hoseok rises to his feet, brushing his robes behind him. His arms are placed behind his back as he walks down the steps of the throne, finally facing the younger man. But he isn’t surrendering, far from it when he takes the sword from the stand and points it at Jin.   There’s shouting, an ear-splitting clash of metal against the crackle of the flames becoming louder as they seep through the back wall. Hoseok is stiff, age having slowed his movements. He isn’t as agile as Seokjin is, doesn’t have his fervour, but it’s clear to Jin that he’s not going without a fight. That he will never give up out of his own will. Hoseok would rather burn here.   “You killed my family!” Seokjin spits when their blades crash against each other again, the older barely able to deflect.   The corner of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “I ended many families.”   Seokjin never tells him about the Kim family, about how his father and mother were both executed when knelt on the dirty ground, how his uncles and aunts were brutalized before being murdered, that the servants’ sobs only stopped once their breathing ceases.    Seokjin doesn’t tell, just because he has an inkling, a fear that Hoseok won’t even remember.   So he lets his grief speak for itself— “You will pay for what you’ve done.”   There’s a swing, another clatter. Hoseok stumbles back before lifting his sword again.   There’s a chance. An opportunity. Seokjin could deflect, could move away swiftly without a blink to waste, but his eyes instead pinpoint to Hoseok’s open abdomen. A perfect spot and he seizes the moment.   He drives the sword forward.   Until he can hear the breath in the older man hitch, see the way his pupils tremble. Even when the cost is that Hoseok’s own blade digs into his shoulder and tears it down into his chest.   Blood pours like rain on an April afternoon. It drips in a rhythmic beat, coating the empty throne room until the iron stench overwhelms the smoke of the burning, golden walls.   Seokjin uses the remaining of his strength to step back, pulling the sword out of Hoseok. The blood-soaked blade crashes to the ground at the same time as Hoseok’s own body collapses.   And Jin falls back a moment later. The pool of his blood is warm, the fire enveloping the room sweltering. He stares at the magnificently painted ceiling before shutting his eyes for the final time.    The corners of Seokjin’s mouth tugs upwards into a smile.   We’ve won, Y/N.

At the same time, you stumble.

  The wind knocks out of your lungs as your knees buckle. You’re grabbed by one of Hoseok’s guards, pulled back until your arm feels like it’s being yanked out of its socket. You cry out as agony overwhelms you and the guard wheezes over the exhaust of the fire engulfing the palace and paints the wooden structures into bright scarlet.    “She’s here!” he shouts while you struggle.    But before you can be taken, dragged towards the center of the palace, there’s a low grunt from the guard. A short shout is made and he suddenly drops, revealing your saviour. Doe eyes and dark hair, his hands splattered in carmine and his brows knitted closely together.   “J-Jungkook!”   He embraces you in an instant, arms wrapping around your frame for the first time in ages. His nose digs into your hair, your face into his shoulder as you shake. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he soothes you in a murmur that you desperately hang on to.   But the intimate moment doesn’t last for long.   Jungkook pulls away. “We have to go. There’s an open entrance in the back by the stables.”   “Wait—wait, Jungkook! Jin. I couldn’t stop him. He—he went to find...he went to find Jung Hoseok and he went towards the fire. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my only brother. Please go look for him, please,” you beg him, hands tightening on his. “I can’t go without him.”   “I know,” Jungkook tells you with lips lopsided. “But I need to make sure you’re safe first. I need to fulfill my promise to him. This is what he wanted, okay?”   You nod, putting your trust in him and quicken your pace. The faster you go, the more time they’ll be for Jungkook to return and search for Jin before it’s too late. But as the two of you interlace your hands, running alongside one another, you’re stopped meters away from the circular opening of the wall.   “Stop!” Emperor Minseok shouts pathetically. He’s obviously shaken, his hair in a disarray, his once magnificent robes dirtied and fluttering open. He is with two other guards wielding weapons, but without his clothes and servants, it is clear that he is undeserving of his title.   He is not an Emperor.   “Y-You can’t leave! That child is mine!” Minseok points to your stomach.   “This isn’t your child!” you shout back at him and the man seemingly pales, eyes horrified as his mouth drops open. “It has never been.”   “You….You!”   There’s a clamour above the roar of the fire consuming the entire palace. The last of his guards were coming from the corridor and your hand squeezes Jungkook’s.   If you die here, then so be it. But you will do so protecting your child until your very last breath.   Yet, Jungkook has other plans and it doesn’t encompass your death.    “Run,” he whispers sharply into your ear and you whirl around to look at him. “I’ll hold them off. Run and don’t look back.”   “But—”   “I love you.” Jungkook smiles. His doe eyes crinkle, shining in the flames bleeding to your feet. “I’ll see you again.”   He pushes you forward and your feet move on instinct. You run with your arms wrapped around your swollen center, breaths stolen from your parted lips and your eyes shut tight. The guards swing their swords around, but their blades never touch you. There’s a clatter of metal, blades striking one another.   Minseok reaches out to seize you, not letting you get away. But his fingertips merely skim the tips of your hair. You hear his grunt, a smothered sound coming from his mouth, the drop of a body.   You run. Out through the entrance. Up the dirt incline until your feet begin to slip. Until the darkness has completely covered your form from sight. Until sheer exhaustion forces you to stop.   Against Jungkook’s will, you turn around.   You watch as the raging fire engulfs the palace, eating away at the structure that stretches across the horizon, as blazing as the sunlight at dawn itself. And you fall to your knees, sobbing for the people you love.

[Epilogue]   The dynasty has fallen.   New people have taken over old places and you wonder if it was all futile — if history will repeat itself once more — if Seokjin’s sacrifice has been made in vain. For his sake, you hope not.   After the rebellion and riots on the streets by the common people, the loyalists of the old empire have been driven away from the country. But you know there’s few of them that are still after you because of your ties to the rebels. There are those on the uprising’s side that are seeking to kill you too. They believe that your child belongs to the deceased Emperor and many would rather be safe than sorry, not wanting to risk his bloodline being in existence at all.   But one look at the babbling baby trying to stand in front of you and his striking doe eyes and dark hair, you know for certain that he is of Jungkook’s blood and bones.   “Minkook, what are you doing?”   You pick up your mischievous, chubby toddler to place on your hip.   His grabby hands take your hair and his mouth circles, trying to sound out syllables and string them together. “M-Mum..mum..mama…”   You smile, nuzzling into him. “Are you hungry?”   Those who believe you, the ones closest to Seokjin, have chosen to protect you from the threats. After the birth, you were brought to a safe house far from the capital where no one knows your name or your child’s. It’s a modest home on top of a green hill, close to the riverbend and where you can see the sunrise and sunset. It’s peaceful and every morning and evening, you’re able to sit on the steps. Waiting.   They told you about Seokjin. You heard that several of them saw his body before the entire palace went up into flames, but there’s been no news of Jungkook. No sighting of him.   It’s been eleven months since that time. Six from when Minkook was born.   You don’t know Jungkook’s whereabouts, don’t know if he can even find you with where you’re hidden now, how he will manage to get himself here. But you believe in his promise. You trust that you will see him again.   “Goodnight, Min.”   Your sleepy toddler is unable to keep his eyes open for any longer and succumbs to the seduction of sleep. You plant a tender kiss on the top of his round head and set down on the bed, still softly humming a lullaby that Seokjin had taught you so long ago — a way you keep his memory alive. Once Minkook is secure and safe, your footsteps pad quietly across the floor.    You come outside, shutting the door behind you, sitting on the wooden steps.   The last light of the sun is fading from the sky. The horizon is painted in murky shades of tangerine and rose, the clouds wispy and floating in shapes that you and your brother once tried to discern as children. Someday, your own children will lay in the grass staring at the sky because of his sacrifice and yours. But for now, you watch the sun fall.    You watch as night takes over the evening, how another day has passed.   But as you turn to head inside as the sky starts to be filled with stars, your breath hitches in your throat.   You blink hard to ensure that it's not a dream. That the illusion has not imprinted into your mind after so much desperation and time. But the sight is all too real when you open your eyes again.   Over the horizon at a distance and in the last dwindling light of the evening, there is a man with doe eyes and dark hair approaching. His gaze meets yours and a tender smile stretches into his cheeks. His features are tired as if he has been traveling for days, clothes ragged and ripped.   But none of it matters.   Jungkook comes closer and closer towards you. And you run, meeting him halfway as tears flood your vision. You leap forward and he laughs, arms catching you in a tight embrace.   The two of you are finally reunited at last.

[pigeonp0st]

Hey can you do a fic where reader is under mind control of some sort from an enemy and is forced to attack Nat and the rest of the avengers and Nat has to talk her out of it and calm her down something rlly intense and angsty pls

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #6

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Agnst

(tell me if there’s more I should add)

Notes:

I realized after I finished writing that I didn’t have Nat talk R out of it like you asked...I solved it in another way...i’m sorry!! I hope you enjoy anyways, thanks a lot for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes...there’s probably a lot) also sorry for this in general...I’m disappointed in it and the ending...I was sleep deprived and delirious for half of it...

———

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and a simple day. You and Nat had planned to head to the beach for the first time in a long time afterwards and everything. It was supposed to be a good day.

Good day...ha.

The sad truth is, is that things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes things go horribly wrong.

Sometimes you get mind controlled by the ‘big bad’ and hurt the people you love most. Or maybe that stuff only happened to people like you. ‘Heroes.’

——-

You were conscious. That was the cruel agonizing part of it all. It’s that with every swing of your knife, every landed hit, every plea that fell from their lips, you knew what was happening.

You knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Well...you could, technically, but it hurt. It hurt to fight. The pain was similar, you imagine, to what it feels like getting burned alive and then ran over eighteen times.

You didn’t think you could do it. Your will power wasn’t that strong. You would probably die trying to gain control—

It hurt. It hurt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t, you—

Natasha. Natasha was saying; “fight it, Y/N, fight it,” and to you and to the pain that fighting the mind control caused, she may as well have been saying, “die, Y/N, die”

And yeah. Okay. For her, you will. For her you must.

Tears were running down your cheeks, it was the one thing the mind control didn’t have control of. It was...weird. Weird feeling such an immense amount of pain, such an immense amount of suffering, and being unable to show it. Unable to scream. You were silent, but your body felt loud, your head felt loud.

For a long minute you couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t even register the things you were seeing, all you knew was pain, everything outside of that was illegitimate.

Then, silence. For a brief, blissful moment before it was gone again. Nat’s arms were around you, and you were shaking, but completely still otherwise—finally, finally, you weren’t hurting them— “You’re okay,” Nat whispered, and how could that concept, in a few moments of agony, become something so foreign. Have you ever been okay before? Have you ever lived without this much hurt?

———-

“Nat,” you croaked, the words shaking almost as roughly as your body. “Natasha, kill me.”

Those three words, said with an immeasurable amount of desperation, were just as much not your own as your body was at this moment. They were said in a moment of pain.

Somehow, Natasha knew that. She knew that. She knows what you look like when you’re experiencing physical pain. It’s been seared into her mind countless times, but that doesn’t prevent her heart from aching as much as it does when you start begging.

“Natasha please, please baby, please. Somebody, please! Before it—”

And then you were screaming, and Natasha hates how it’s even worse than the begging.

Somehow you’ve managed to gain control of your vocals, but your body isn’t yours again, she realizes it when you start struggling against her arms…it’s a terrible thing to realize.

“Stop,” Nat yells, so obviously terrified and raw that half of the Avengers freeze where they’re circling you. “Stop fighting it, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She holds you as tightly as she can, with her eyes screwed shut. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, she hates the way it sounds like a goodbye too, but she just knows that even if you could register her voice right now, you aren’t going to listen.

You’re going to keep fighting to protect her and the others, because it’s what you’ve always done.

So Natasha takes a deep breath, in and out, and tries to think about her options. She tries to think about her options with you struggling and trying to reach for your knife, and the Avengers circled around her with nothing but ashen expressions that speak of nightmares to come, and she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

There’s no safe way for her to knock you out for a long period of time, not ones that won’t cause long term problems afterwards, but she doesn’t need any because suddenly your body stops struggling, and stops moving, and you’re slumped unconscious in her arms.

It’s a great relief for everyone until Natasha lifts her hand from your pulse, and says, shockingly and terrifyingly devoid of emotion; “I think she’s going into shock.”

——

Everything is a blur to Natasha after that. She recalls yelling, lights, arriving at the hospital, a countdown of; one, two, three, and then she’s sitting in a seat next to your hospital bed wondering when everything went so wrong.

——

All Natasha hears when she closes her eyes is you screaming in agony at the top of her lungs, and all she feels is the phantom touch of your cold ashen skin against her hands.

You’re okay now, Natasha reminds herself. You’re going to be okay, but there’s something deeply traumatizing and everlasting about the moments where you’re sure everything won’t be—the moments you’re almost sure the love of your life won’t be.

Hearing someone you love beg you to kill them, seeing the person you love most in so much agony, it’s...scarring...but Natasha will be strong. She has to be, because being weak hurts too much, but more importantly; you need her to be.

As traumatizing as the experience was for her, she knows that yours was just as bad—if not worse. You were strong for her, so she’ll be for you.

Like protecting her to you seemed like your only option, even while you were hurting so much because of it, it’s Natasha’s only option too.

So she’ll keep it all together, until you’re back to normal and she doesn’t have to anymore.

——-

Natasha startles when you wake up. She physically startles, because the first thing you do is start sobbing, sobbing hard enough to make Natasha concerned that you’ll start hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, up from her seat in a flash to be by your side, “is he still mind controlling you? Are you still hurting?”

You aren’t looking at her, Natasha realizes with a large amount of grief. You won’t look at her, but you’re shaking your head no to her questions, and she supposes that perhaps you are okay—physically.

She wants more than that for you, so she sighs, heavily and sadly— because she can’t protect you from this anymore than she was able to protect you from the mind control—and wraps her arms around your distraught form.

“It’s okay,” Nat mumbles, and then winces and corrects herself because it’s so clearly not. “It will be okay.”

That she is sure of, but you aren’t.

“Natasha,” you force out (Natasha tries not to remember the way you said her name yesterday), “You’re covered in- you’re covered in bruises and cuts...baby, i’m so sorry.”

Your voice cracks on sorry, and Natasha closes her eyes to prevent her own tears from falling. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers fiercely, “i’m not mad at you. Of course i’m not.”

“You should be.”

You pull away from her then. Natasha feels the loss in her heart, she’s sure.

All she wants to do is hold you in her arms and never let go, but with the amount of unjustified shame you’re feeling she doubts you’ll let her.

“Your arm,” you stutter, “did it need stitches?”

Natasha won’t lie to you, so she says nothing—instead she tries to meet your haunted eyes. It’s a useless attempt.

She knows what you’re remembering, and she hates it. “The cut on my neck...it wasn’t that deep. It shouldn’t even scar.”

“I didn’t ask you about the cut on your neck, Natasha.”

Natasha tenses where she’s standing, caught off guard by the loathing in your voice until she realizes that it’s not directed at her, but at yourself.

Your eyes finally, finally, meet Natasha’s. They’re tear brimmed, scared, and unbelievably angry. “I’m going to kill him,” you rasp brokenly, “Natasha, i’m going to kill him.”

——-

Nat says nothing. She just continues to stare back at you.

“He had no right, Natasha, he had no right to do that to me,” your face is crumbling now, anger turning back into devastation in an instant. “Nat, why—why was it me? I—god, i’m so angry, i’m so—i’m so sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry. God...what did I do?”

Natasha still says nothing, why isn’t she saying anything? You want to yell at her, you want her to yell at you, you want—you want.

“Is Clint...is he okay?” You ask wobbly.

You remember vividly the moment you stabbed him, and the betrayal on his face, the betrayal on everyone’s faces until they realized you weren’t in control of your own body.

“He’s okay,” Natasha says simply. Then, “the man who did what he did to you...Wanda is handling it. She’s able to block out his mind control.”

“Okay.”

“Can I hold you?”

“What?”

Natasha shifts where she stands, looking down. She’s never looked more uncertain. “You didn’t seem to want me close before...I wasn’t sure…”

Oh.

“Nat,” you whisper, heartbroken, “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust I’m me.”

Natasha tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down to kiss your temple. You want nothing more than for her to get away from you. You don’t want to hurt her ever again. You can’t. “Oh baby,” she laughs a sad sort of laugh, “you’ve been handcuffed.”

And that, for whatever reason, starts another wave of unreleased tears, but you're laughing now too...if only at the insanity of your situation.

You feel restricted by the handcuffs, trapped in the way you were during the mind control, but you also feel safe. Safe from doing harm, so you allow her, between breaths, to join you on the hospital bed.

She lets out a relieved breath when you do, both because she’s allowed to hold you, and because you’re laughing...yeah it might me a manic sort of laugh, but it’s something.

Something is better than nothing. It’s a start.

——

“Natasha, I can tie my own fucking shoes.”

Nat looks up at you from where she’s crouched by your feet, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask me to do it?”

“W-What? No I didn’t.” Mind controlled. You were mind controlled again. Fuck—

“Yeah you did,” Natasha reminds gently, “while you were eating your disgusting jello.”

Oh. Yeah.

You release a shaky breath, laughing quietly all the while, because wow. Wow. You’re losing your mind. “I totally remembered that...they just slipped something into my jello…”

Natasha watches you carefully for a few moments before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet. “Tie your own shoes.”

“Asshole,” you mutter bitterly under your breath. Natasha pretends not to hear you and simply presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” she confesses quietly. Natasha’s been saying as much over and over again since you first awoke.

“Now I feel like the asshole. Just go get the discharge papers.”

Finally, Natasha laughs.

——-

You’re healing still, emotionally, the Avengers and Natasha are very aware of that. They’ve been as gentle as they can possibly be with you since you left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but now—now it’s time for an intervention.

So naturally, you press the big red emergency meeting button Steve hides in his room and force everyone to meet in the living room.

“I’m not sad anymore,” You announce to them all when Wanda asks why the fuck she was woken up for.

The grumbling immediately quiets.

“Well,” you pause, considering, “I...am. Deep down. I’m tryna work through it but it’s kinda hard now that I'm forgetting a lot of what happened.”

Natasha sits up at that, alarmed. “You’re forgetting?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “My mind is blocking it out. I’m traumatized...but pretty okay otherwise.” The others don’t look convinced, so with an annoyed groan you relent. “I’m thinking about seeing Steve’s therapist. You guys should too.”

A chorus of protest instantly comes forward, not to your surprise...but Wanda...Wanda does surprise you.

“I am, too.”

Then Natasha, “I...was actually considering it myself.”

Well then.

“I’m also considering making my own sitcom,” Wanda continues, resting her head in her hand. “What do you guys think?”

“Stick to therapy, Wanda. Stick to therapy.”

At that, everyone comes forward in agreement.

You’re sure, in that moment, that with these people you’ll be okay.

[hello-everyfandom]

"But, you did insult my boyfriend, and that simply won’t slide.”

Warnings: Horrible, horrible language and bad words.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Remus Lupin has a short, fiery girlfriend who isn’t afraid of telling someone off.

(Y’all I’m 4′10 and I literally dream of being Remus Lupin’s short girlfriend)

Remus Lupin wasn’t necessarily quiet nor shy. He spoke out in classes and made snarky comments to the boys. He’s made conversation with at least more than half of his year and made a lasting impression on his teacher’s that would surely give him good marks on his papers. However, compared to you, his lovely girlfriend, he might as well be considered silent. Remus loved the way you resembled a firecracker, loud and ready to explode. It was both endearing and entertaining to see your hot temper and rather an eruptive self as you were also quite short. Compared to your large and lanky boyfriend, he could easily tuck your head under his chin; and you had, sadly, to go on your tippy-toes in order to give him a right kiss. Nevertheless, you had quite a fiery personality and had a way of capturing a room with your words. Heaven should bless any daft bloke who dares piss you off, because not only were you extremely skilled in hexes and jinxes, you were also skilled in the most dangerous of all: words. Remus feels an immense amount of pride swelling in his chest, pounding against his ribs when he sees you standing up for what’s right. Earlier this year, you stood your ground against Nathanial Vincents, a Slytherin in the year above you, who was unrightfully picking on a Hufflepuff. He remembered hearing a commotion come from the Grand Courtyard and Sirius turning from the crowd giving him a holler,

“Mate, get over here. Your girlfriend is about to murder Vincent!”

Remus pushed forward, saying a polite excuse me before standing between his group of mates and staring at the scene in front of him. He gaped as he saw you, hair pulled up into a ponytail with strands flailing about, wand out, and an infuriated look on your face.

James slapped Remus’ shoulder with amusement, “This Lil one’s a firecracker, huh?” 

Remus barely heard him as he watched you yell, “You slimy, absolute arsed-faced, foul botched piece of sperm. If I hear you ever even utter that word again, I will rip off your balls and shove them down your bloody throat!” Remus could tell you were absolutely enraged as he watched your fist clench and unclench rapidly.

“You’re nothing but a blood traitor. You think you’re so brave for standing up for this disgusting mudblood.” Vincent pointed at the first-year Hufflepuff who was fighting back tears. The crowd gasped, and a few people in the crowd even yelled at him. Remus watched your eyes narrow and your cheeks become red with fury, 

“How dare you!” you raised your wand, and before you could utter a devastating jinx, Remus rushed from the crowd and grabbed your arm.

“I know you’re upset,” he whispered in your ear softly, “but don’t give him your time of day. He’s nothing but a prat anyways.” 

You huffed and sank closer to Remus, keeping an eye on Vincent who seemed to have fright glimmer in his eyes. You glanced at the small Hufflepuff near you who stumbled a small ‘thank you’ before disappearing into the crowd. Sirius, Peter, and James all joined you with praise and a pat on the back.  

“I thought the poor man was going to piss himself, then I would’ve likely pissed myself from laughing so hard.” Sirius wrapped an arm around James who said,

“Look at our little Firecracker! Remus, you’ve got a handful here.”

Remus blushed and scratched the back of his neck. He grabbed your hand and began to lead you away from the Courtyard when Vincent yelled with shaky newfound bravery formed from embarrassment,

“Go on then, maybe after you’ve given your bitch of a boyfriend a shag, you can give the rest of us a turn. We all know you’re nothing but a blood traitor slag,”

All four marauders turned around immediately, gripping these wands. Remus gritted his teeth whilst the boys cursed twisted words at Vincent’s face. You were still facing the wall, letting out a bored sigh.

“Normally, I’d hex you into oblivion. However, I have come to the realization that you, Vincent, have a small penis.” Gasps and giggles spread across the crowd as Vincent’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, “How do I know that, you ask? Not because I’m a slag, no, but because why else would someone go through all the effort into being such a shitty person? Truthfully, you can insult me, I can’t be arsed to give a second thought about you. But, you did insult my boyfriend, and” you tutted your tongue, “that simply won’t slide.”

Before anyone could really comprehend anything that happened and before Vincent could even pick up his limp little wand to defend himself, you had whipped around at such a speed, your hair nearly came loose from your ponytail. You snapped your wand at him and with extreme gusto, you shouted,

“Furnunculus!”

The boys and your amazed boyfriend watched Nathanial fly backward into some shrubs and land with a thud. His Slytherin friends rushed over to help him up and slightly dispersed enough so the crowd could see the horror you had placed upon him. On top of his greasy, disgusting face laid a thousand boils filled with yellow puss. A smell emanated from his pimples and covered not only the entirety of his head, but also his neck as well. Nathaniel let out a shriek of curses before storming away.

“Moony,” Peter said slowly, “I think you may have to marry this woman.”

Remus swallowed and agreed, “Wormtail, I couldn’t agree more.”

Sirius and James were too busy rolling around on the grass, holding their stomachs to say anything. Wheezing and huffing, Sirius tried to stand up only to fall on his arse.

“Anyways, boys, shall we head to Dinner?” you put your wand back in your robe and asked innocently, “Oh, sweetheart,” you said, reaching up to wipe Remus’ lips, “You have a little chocolate on your face,” 

Remus blushed and reached to hold your hand, he bent his knees and lowered his head to press a kiss on your awaiting lips, “You’re amazing,” he breathed.

“More than amazing!” James finally stood, desperately catching his breath, “This woman is godly.”

When classes started on Monday, you had forgotten all about your moment as a hex Goddess and walked the hallways with Remus. Hand in hand, you pointed at numerous things and made some particularly crude jokes that while Remus laughed at, found to be too inappropriate to be told anywhere else but Remus’ bed. 

“Oh bloody, fucking, shit balls. I forgot my extra parchment. Buggering asscheeks and tossing bird shite, I think I may have to go back to the dorm to grab some.” You said quite loudly. Remus had gotten used to apologizing for you to the people around you, he sent a friendly nod to the fellow students who turned to see who was cursing like a sailor and a small apology to the Professors who so unfortunately overheard you. 

“Sorry,” he mouthed at a second-year Ravenclaw who stared with shocked wide eyes.

“Love, calm down, yeah? Here,” He reached into his bag to pull out a few slips of parchment, “not a problem.” He slipped it into your bag making you smile happily.

“Remus, I swear if you asked me to chop off my tits, I’d do it. That’s how much I love you,”

Your boyfriend hummed, again used to your silly language, and said “I love you too, Darling.” pressed a small kiss to your cheek and continued to walk down the corridors to class.

[dini73]

Not Today

It's finally here! Thanks so much @whatsmyline-pb for all your help and all you wonderful people out there who always are such an inspiration and motivation. Anyone who wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know.

Fandom: Vikings Rating: Mature Categories: M/F; M/M Relationships: Ivar/Hvitserk; Ivar/Heahmund; Ivar/Reader Trigger warning for mentioning of past drug abuse, loss of loved one, psychological child abuse; see Ao3 for all tags Words: 3808

Bright sunlight blinded Hvitserk’s eyes when he climbed up higher and higher into the huge oak, closely followed by his little brother.

“Wait for me,” he heard toddler Ivar cheerfully giggle. “I’ll get you, Hvitserk!”

And Hvitserk turned around, looking into Ivar’s shining eyes, light blue like a frozen lake and yet full of life and warmth. Tiny teeth innocently exposed to the sun, a chubby hand reaching out to his older brother who leaned forward to grip it and lift Ivar up to the next branch. But just as their soft hands touched, Ivar slipped and Hvitserk couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as his little brother fell and fell until he landed in the meadow below with a dull thud.

The sound went straight to Hvitserk’s core, pumping adrenaline through his veins and waking him up with a racing heartbeat, breathing hard, bare chest covered in cold sweat.

“Ivar,” he breathed panicked, still trying to fully escape the dream, having already stumbled out of bed and towards the entrance of his apartment. There in a little clay bowl, made by his half-sister Gyda, were the keys to the next-door apartment, which belonged to his younger brother, Ivar.

When Hvitserk arrived in his brother’s pitch-dark bedroom, he was devastated to make out the shadow of Ivar on the floor. That could only mean two things: that his baby brother was deadly drunk…or worse.

Not sure which option he’d have to face, Hvitserk slowly knelt. He stretched his arm out but hesitated to let his hand touch Ivar yet.

“Hey brother? Ivar!” and when he carefully shook his brother’s shoulder and was not yelled at, he started to wish Ivar was drunk. Selfishly, Hvitserk longed for the less painful explanation, knowing what followed would break both their hearts. Again.

He carefully leaned over Ivar and whispered, “It’s okay, I’m here.” Then he stood up, turned back the covers on the bed and waited for his brother to drag himself onto it. The ongoing silence, so unlike his brother, scared Hvitserk. After Ivargot himself up and into bed Hvitserk’s heart felt enormously heavy, and he got to bed as well, lining himself up behind his brother, carefully pushing one of his knees between Ivar’s cold, lifeless legs. Just when he lay his arm around Ivar’s waist, offering his other arm as a pillow, the latter mumbled, barely audible, “I can’t take it anymore.”

Fuck. What is he supposed to say to that? “It’s all going to be okay”? Because how could it? They both knew it would be such a lie.

So instead Hvitserk drew Ivar closer and asked him: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that. Breathe.”

After a few minutes Ivar’s breathing steadied and Hvitserk calmed down a bit himself, only to start wondering what had put Ivar in such a state. His thoughts wandered and Hvitserk didn’t realise that he was slowly drifting back to sleep until a rough voice suddenly mumbled, “I wish I could be just like everyone else. Not standing out. Not in constant pain. And not needing to be looked after.”

And while that should have made Hvitserk’s heart break, it nearly cheered him up; all his brother longed for, was so reasonable. But above all, the bitterness with which he proclaimed his dreams, although only whispered, showed his strength. Yes, he might be in despair, and who wouldn’t? But Ivar would never give up. That was something Hvitserk was so sure of in that moment.

He cleared his throat: “Well my dear brother, if you of all the people would be just like everybody else, this world would be a damn boring place.” And he knew how Ivar smiled in that moment even if he couldn’t see it, and he felt his chest broaden. And he went on: “And -as much as it hurts me to admit - someone so remarkable, like you, will always stand out.” And hey, that even earned him a little huff.

Ivar had taken his brother’s hand and their thumbs brushed over each other’s fingers, just the way they had done when they were kids.

“Regarding the pain, brother; not the one who never fell, but the one who always stood up again is the strongest of them all.”

“That some wisdom of your Buddha, huh?” Ivar teased playfully.

“Fuck you,” Hvitserk smiled and hurried to bury his face in Ivar’s neck. They both knew that these two words were actually saying: “There is nothing in this world I’d rather do than to take care of you. I love you.”

It was silent again. No cars were driving outside yet and Hvitserk couldn’t even hear a bird over the loud pulsing of his blood. It must be between two or three o’clock in the morning.

Ivar’s strong hands clasped close around his brother’s wrist while his right elbow punched Hvitserk playfully in his side.

“Hey,” he complained.

Ivar then twisted his upper body, pushed himself a bit up and turned his face towards his brother. Their lips were just inches apart and Hvitserk felt Ivar’s warm breath on his when he looked him deep in the eyes and then hummed a drowsy, “Good night”.

They must have fallen asleep straight afterwards since Hvitserk couldn’t remember closing his eyes at all, but now, awake again, he heard many birds chirping outside. Once more he was grateful, they had not only found neighbouring apartments, but that they had come with a roof terrace. Not only thecoolest thing for parties but also a great space to grow strawberries in the summer, some herbs, tomatoes lavender and some tiny trees, which attracted a lot of tiny birds. Sometimes Hvitserk was still surprised how much he really liked gardening, but it had helped him a lot during his past struggle. Taking care of something that could grow and prosper under his touch, through his care, proved to him once again that he was needed and able to do good.

It had always been like that though, Hvitserk had always been the one everyone in the family could rely on. He had always gladly helped and still it was just so often overlooked. Being sandwiched between siblings— three older, two elevated by their superior lineage, and the two youngest, so loud and demanding, constantly fighting for their parent’s attention— Hvitserk shared the fate of most middle children; being taken granted for by everyone.

Somehow no one had ever wondered, why it was him who started to get up at night and go over to the room Sigurd and Ivar shared as kids when the latter cried. Hvitserk didn’t blame Sigurd though, who was still so young himself, and he would never blame anyone anyway. Still, sometimes he had wondered why Ubbe never thought it was his duty as the eldest to help their overtired parents by looking after Ivar at night sometimes. After a while Hvitserk’s sleep got so light that Ivar just had to whimper, and his older brother was there to soothe him before his parents even heard anything.

Of course, it was their mom, and only she, who was able to get through to Ivar when he was in really bad pain, when he had another broken bone or had extreme growing pains. And during the days it was Ubbe or their dad who made sure to keep Ivar entertained and occupied as good as possible, as much as Aslaug allowed, to distract Ivar from his chronic pain. But it was always Hvitserk who calmed Ivar when he had a bad dream or was sad and frustrated and couldn’t sleep because the rising pain kept him awake. Then his older brother would carefully cuddle up to him and retell him the stories he himself had just heard from Ubbe. Hvitserk loved Ubbe dearly and his storytelling abilities was only one of the many things Hvitserk admired him for.

Cuddling up to each other became their routine, and then sometimes Hvitserk would stroke his baby brother’s back in calming circles, sometimes he just held his tiny shaking hand, sometimes he’d whisper stories and sometimes it took never-ending assurances of “it will soon be better” before Ivar fell asleep again.

The calming circles was a trick Gyda had shown him; Hvitserk was sure that he would have had no chance of ever looking after Ivar if Gyda and Björn had lived in the same house. But sharing the same property with two main houses was all Lagertha and Aslaug could agree to. The houses had to be in fact the exact replicas, his father grumbling that this made him look like an idiot to the rest of Kattegat, while Aslaug was furious hers wasn’t bigger, as she had given him not only two but four children and one needed special care, while Lagertha always played the “but I was his first wife and gave birth to his first son” card. This bickering had been a constant background noise to them all throughout their childhood.

The kids all got along well. Sometimes it seemed as if they were making up for their parent’s constant fighting. Hvitserk looked up to Ubbe, Ubbe adored Björn, Sigurd was a needy little pest but was always kept in check by their sweet sister Gyda who was the one person all of them always instantly listened to, even though she never raised her voice. And they all loved their baby brother Ivar.

Looking back, Hvitserk thought that never raising her voice had worked wonders for Gyda and had been her superpower in the often so loud household. Wherever she went, Gyda exuded an atmosphere of calm and friendliness.

Hvitserk missed his half-sister, while, lost in thought, he stroked a strand of damp hair from Ivar's forehead. After some time, he carefully made sure that Ivar was still asleep and then snuck out of the bed and back to his own apartment.

These neighbouring apartments had been a gift from the gods, just when both had needed a wink from fate. After Hvitserk got released from rehab Aslaug didn’t want to have him in their house anymore. She was very outspoken about it and about her reason for it: she feared for Ivar. Those words, yelled in a high-pitched voice, made Ivar doubt his mother’s sanity for the second time in his life. Her angry announcement also led to a fierce fight between Ragnar and Athelstan; Athelstan didn’t want to waste a moment before welcoming Hvitserk in the home he and Ragnar shared. But Ragnar proclaimed that it would do Hvitserk no good if he wasn’t forced to stand on his own feet again.

Being of age and with both his parents not wanting him around, Hvitserk was overjoyed that his little brother was finally sick of Aslaug’s suffocating love and was similarly anxious to get out of the toxic household.

It also helped immensely that Ragnar’s guilty consciousness led him to move mountains and loads of money to grant them their neighbouring apartments over the roofs of Copenhagen.

Aslaug had a fit that someone in a wheelchairwould want to move to a roof top loft, but all three men had done their best to just ignore her. The boys would swear they had later heard their dad’s thoughts on exactly where their mom could shove her concerns regarding the roof top, as they argued on the street.

The modern building had an excellent lift, and the character of the loft gave Ivar all the space he needed. Ragnar made sure that his good friend Floki oversaw any needed adjustments in regards of the widths of the doors or the accessibility of the terrace.

Ivar’s apartment also had adjusted furniture throughout all rooms and Floki took pride in designing the kitchen himself.

Now, back in his own apartment, the cold blanket over Hvitserk’s unused bed made him shiver as he wrapped himself in it. He couldn’t fall asleep again. Instead, he lay there, stared at his ceiling, a wave of emotions suddenly clashing over him. The last three years had been such a roller coaster.

Thora.

His fingers clung to the blanket almost painfully.

Hvitserk pressed his eyes together and forced himself to try some steady breaths, just as he had shown to Ivar only a few hours ago. After a few minutes, he breathed out deeply, opened his eyes and mumbled into the darkness: “You did well. You overcame things, Hvits. You did it and you can still do it.” And suddenly, his anxiety switched to a slightly hysterical laughter. “Oh fuck!” he laughed staring at the ceiling again. “I’m such a pathetic loser, mumbling to myself in the dark…”

But his words didn’t contain any heat and a small smile formed on his lips since he knew he wasn’t a pathetic looser. At least definitely not when it came to other people. Hvitserk knew that he was a good brother. Especially to Ivar. Always had, always would be.

Hvitserk relaxed a bit more in his bed and thought back to their childhood again. He had always understood Ivar’s despair, his illness making him incapable to certain aspects of life. Hvitserk had never looked to the side or pretend not to hear when small sniffles filled his brother’s bedroom. Hvitserk could never stand anyone being in pain.

That’s how he and Ivar had become inseparable, even though Hvitserk had never stopped loving spending time with Ubbe. But the nights filled with hidden sobs belonged to him and his baby brother. When they had gotten a bit older and started school, they started to hide their cuddling from the rest, Hvitserk always sneaking back to his bed before anyone woke up. Just as they had done now. But nevertheless, hiding it sometimes didn’t sit well with Hvitserk since they weren’t doing anything wrong. And he often longed for owning up to it.

Especially when the comforting felt so good.

******

The next time Hvitserk woke was thanks to his vibrating phone. With narrowed eyes he tapped around his bed to find it. The sun was already shining brightly into his room, and he wondered what time it was.

With a groan he opened the screen but then smiled.

Ivar had sent a picture of his famous pancakes and the teasing/taunting message, “Liking them cold now?”

Hvitserk answered with the running man emoji and jumped out of bed to get a quick shower.

About 15 minutes and a stack of freshly made pancakes later, Ivar asked, “Good?” with a raised eyebrow, rather amused about the way Hvitserk stuffed the sweets in.

“Sure,” Hvitserk grinned and held his coffee cup up shaking it in the air in silent request.

“Huh! Don’t you have legs, anymore?” Ivar huffed with mocked indignation, nevertheless taking the cup and limping towards his fancy coffee machine.

Those were the good moments. And Ivar had them, and they both loved them, but there was still the underlying question about last night. While Ivar pushed the buttons on the shiny coffee machine to make his brother an Americano, Hvitserk started to play around on his phone.

And there it was, the explanation for last night:

Special needs Ragnarsson to join university of Copenhagen

There are pictures too. They must have caught Ivar yesterday afternoon; looking very grumpy while he had tried to climb the stairs of the university, struggling with his crutches while carrying the registration paperwork under one arm as well.

“Ivar…” he sighed, a dull plain already clenching around his heart.

He could see how Ivar’s back muscles stiffened before he hissed a frustrated: “Don’t.”

Gosh, how Hvitserk hated the paparazzi for what they were constantly doing to them. If it wasn’t him being caught drunk, Björn with some women or Sigurd with some guy, they could always rip on Ivar.

“You could’ve…” he started but got harshly interrupted by his brother.

“No, I can’t always run whining to Ubbe, okay?” He slammed his coffee angrily on the table with such a force, that little droplets of coffee splashed to his plate. “And I won’t! Besides they just caught me off guard,” Ivar hissed through gritted teeth.

They both sat silently for a while, trying to concentrate on their breakfast, which no longer tasted that good, with all the tension in the air.

Ivar knew his brother was just worried about him, but he didn’t need that, well at least he didn’t want it. He wanted to stand up for himself and make his own decisions. And it was probably this thought that made him admit: “I visited mom, afterward.”

He didn’t even have to look over to Hvitserk to know how immediately tense he became. Biting his lower lip, a frown on his forehead Ivar prepared himself to hear a litany of reasons why that had been a fucking stupid idea.

Just as Hvitserk opened his mouth, Ivar got ahead of him. Looking out of the huge window, concentrating on the clouds to avoid looking at his brother, he admitted in a low voice:

“I just had to, Hvit. I wanted to show her the stuff from university and just share that with her.” And then he turned around facing his brother, suddenly quite furiously: “Just because you all hate her, I don’t, okay!?”

Hvitserk dropped his fork in resignation. Pancakes or not, it was too early to have this discussion again. And while he wondered how they could have arrived at this argument again, his phone beeped.

Ubbe: Is he okay?

Hvitserk huffed, rolled his eyes, and typed the fitting emoji in the box, adding, “what do you think?” Then added another message: “for even more fun, he went to see mother afterwards…”

Ubbe: ugh, one day I’ll get her a restraining order, I swear!

Hvitserk: only if you want Ivar never to speak to you again…

Unnerved from the typing, Ivar felt he’d lash out on his brother any second when he got a message himself.

The sender startled him, though, and a surprised “Huh” escaped his lips. He was supporting himself with one hand on the kitchen island, staring at his mobile in the other with quite some disbelieve.

“What’s it?”

“It’s from Lagertha,” Ivar frowned.

Abandoning his own mobile and instead reaching for the last pancake – because tension or not, Hvitserk was definitely not wasting any food - he wondered what Lagertha was up to.

They all tried to be civil with her, although being honest and more precise, it was only Ivar and he who needed some effort to behave around her. Ubbe had always adored her, although maybe Ubbe had only always adored Björn and dreamt about having the same mother as his big idol.

And do not get him started on Sigurd. That idiot would write an essay about the hardships of this poor, hard fighting women, who lost her husband to some bitch of a woman. Whose then ex-husband never stop hitting on her and dreaming about the three of them living together before he finally gave up on both and moved on. On to Athelstan, the ex-priest he had fallen in love with on one of his many travels.

It was no wonder Sigurd adored Lagertha as she had never - in contrast to both his biological parents – looked down on his musical aspirations as weak, and even supported him to try turn his passion into a proper job. Nonetheless, Hvitserk never understood why his little brother had come out as bisexual to Lagertha first and not to their father, given his current situation. That was one step too many if you asked Hvitserk. He and all his brothers would have been – well were – supportive of Sigurd. The fact he trusted Lagertha more than them, had driven a wedge between Sigurd and him. It had hurt and confused him, and he didn’t want to dislike Sigurd. And sometimes Hvitserk thought it had just been another way for his younger brother to get attention.

For a very short time Sigurd had been the family’s baby and gotten all their mother’s attention. She was so proud of him when he was born with a sign in his eyes. She had been walking around telling everyone about old sagas and that “Sigurd Snake in the Eye” was born for higher things. And then Ivar was born and all of Aslaug’s attention was drawn to him.

As understandable as it was that Ivar needed more attention than other babies, Aslaug just completely forgot about Sigurd. Forgot about all of them, actually, but Hvitserk and Ubbe had already been at an age where not too much attention from their mother was actually welcomed. Whereas Sigurd was just a toddler himself and didn’t understand what he could have done wrong to be totally wiped from his mother’s plate. Still craving for her love and attention, Sigurd identified Ivar as the cause of his misery and had despised him since then.

It was entirely thanks to Gyda that things between the two youngest never escalated. She had always put so much effort in bringing the two youngest together and creating a mutual understanding for each other’s situations. And while their dad was grateful, in awe of his daughter, both of his ex-wives, at some point, grew weary of Gyda’s efforts. Hvitserk never understood what had happened then and neither Lagertha nor his mother ever cared to explain anything to them. One day, Gyda had simply left. It had taken a whole year for her to reach out to them again.

“What does she want?” Hvitserk sighed, not sure if he really cared. Sometimes Hvitserk just wanted his former, very uncomplicated life back. The life they had, when their parents were still together, the life prior to Sigurd getting caught being fucked up the ass by a slimy music producer or Hvitserk lying in his own vomit after a bad trip. No, don’t think back to the drugs, he instantly told himself. He closed his eyes and wished that Ivar either wouldn’t notice his trembling hand or would think that it was Lagertha stressing him out. After all, he had been clean for nearly two years now.

Luckily Ivar didn’t seem to realise his sudden instability or maybe put it down as him still needing more sugar. He didn’t comment on it, at least, but instead explained:

“She said some guy saw one of my photographs at her home and asked if there was more. He might be interested in buying.”

“Oh. Well, that’d be cool, no?” Hvitserk replied with a full mouth.

Ivar huffed, and then looked at his brother. He had a smirk on his lips and didn’t seem to be angry any longer: “Well, definitely cooler than the guy’s name.”

Hvitserk raised an eyebrow questioningly. And when Ivar read, with exaggerated clarity, “Heahmund” they both started to laugh.

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pieces-by-me @punkrocknpearls @vikingstrash

[ikeromantic]

What He Wanted

Written for @lazy-angel-kitten as part of my 500 follower celebration!

Leonardo, Moments, Something Blue, Angst

Approx. 1100 words

Warnings: Age, Dementia, Death

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Who . . . are you?” Unfocused eyes traveled across his face, following the line of his shoulder down, down to where his hand stroked her arm.

Leonardo tried to smile. “Cara. It’s your lover. Leo. Remember?” His heart hurt with a dull, constant throb as she squinted up at him. Those beautiful eyes, once so bright, were clouded now. Her skin was thin and lined. Her body, ravaged by age.

“I . . .” Breath rasped in her chest and she coughed.

He rubbed her chest until the episode passed.

Exhausted, she lay there with her eyes pinched shut.

Leonardo knew she wasn’t sleeping. He traced a finger along the edge of her jaw line. She felt so fragile. More so than the day she’d walked through le Comte’s door, wide-eyed and terrified. He stroked her hair, the fine white strands like silk against his fingers.

From the doorway, a polite cough. Leo turned to see Isaac there.

“I brought a book . . .” He held out a large, leatherbound volume. “It’s pictures. Of the stars. Since . . . she can’t . . .” Isaac’s voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. “It’s a gift from the research assistants at the planetarium.”

Leonardo gestured with his chin toward a nearby table. “I’ll show it to her when she - when - she wakes up.” He had almost said ‘when she is herself again.’ The relief in Isaac’s eyes made him glad he hadn’t.

“Good. Would you tell her, they miss her? And wish her well?” Isaac set the book on the table.

“Sicuro.” Leo waved with his hand.

Isaac thanked him and then saw himself out.

A few minutes later, distant piano music drifted down the hall. Notes that held a painful sweetness. Longing. A melody to stir even an ancient, withered heart. One of Mozart’s more recent compositions. He’d started it the day cara couldn’t remember his name. Though he’d said it didn’t matter.

Her breath came easier now, at least. Leonardo watched the rise and fall of her chest. It would be soon, now, he thought. She was holding to this life by the thinnest of threads.

“Leo?” Her eyes opened. For the first time in days, they were clear. She saw him.

“I am here, cara mia.”

“Everything . . . hurts. I didn’t know it would hurt so much to be old.” She smiled. It was as devastating as the first time he saw it.

Leonardo tried to smile back. “Cara. You are never old in my eyes.”

“Mmm, tell my bones then.” She tried to laugh, dissolved into another bout of coughing.

He held a glass of water for her to drink as the fit subsided.

When he lowered the cup, she sighed. “Is it always like this for - for mortals?”

Leonardo felt his chest constrict. The chasm between them could not be avoided, he knew. But gods, it hurt to speak of. To give voice to what he now witnessed. “Yes.”

The word was harsh and it broke his heart to speak it. Part of him screamed, a shriek in the back of his mind that would not stop repeating. It doesn’t have to end like this.

But this was the way of nature. It was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? They’d agreed . . . All those arguments fell flat in the face of her suffering. In the knowledge that she would soon be gone.

“It doesn’t have to end like this,” le Comte said from the threshold. His eyes flashed with barely held anger as Leonardo met them from across the room.

His oldest friend walked with soft steps across the intervening space to kneel on the other side of the bed. The fires in his amber gaze died down as they fell on the girl. “Ma cherie . . . you only need to ask . . .”

For a moment, Leonardo imagined that future. His cara mia, restored to her youth and vibrance. Centuries of life together, to explore the passions they’d only glimpsed in the mere fifty years of this span. Were the changes of vampirism worse than the degradations of age? Than dementia?

“I couldn’t . . . do that to him.” Her fingers brushed Leonardo’s hand. Skin as thin as paper. The tracery of blue veins beneath. Cold.

Le Comte looked at Leonardo. She lay between them as she had since the moment she came into this time and place.

“It is a curse,” he said hoarsely. He wanted to believe it. Needed to.

“Leonardo.” Le Comte’s voice was a plea.

The room was silent, save for her labored breathing.

Le Comte stood. He bent over her and placed a kiss on her brow. “I am always here for you, ma cherie. You have only to think of your desire. And I will see it done.”

She raised one bone thin hand to touch his arm. “You have been a . . . a great friend to me.” She smiled. “I will miss . . . you.”

“And I, you.” Le Comte bowed, and with one last disapproving look for his old friend, he left.

“Cara . . .” Leonardo cleared his throat. He wanted to tell her not to die for him - for his ideals. To take le Comte’s deal, come what may. But the words wouldn’t leave his throat. They caught there in his sorrows. His certainty that this was what must be. The cycle of life and death that left him alone, time and again. He was cursed to live and watch all he loved pass on. Until there was nothing left but a wasteland in his heart.

“I love you.”

He leaned down to kiss her. She was beautiful to him even now. The ravages of age left their marks on her skin, but beneath that veil she was still the angel he’d fallen in love with. The kiss was achingly tender. The merest brush of lips, the passion between them only a memory now.

Leonardo wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her to his chest. She was light, all hollow bones and parchment-thin flesh. The heat, gone from her limbs. The spark in her eyes fading. Her head rested in the crook of his neck. He could feel her breath. Shallow. Ebbing. Heartbeat erratic.

“Remember . . .” she breathed. And then went still.

He willed his own heart to stop. His lungs to cease. But the curse he bore would not yield. It held him here, in the fires of his misery. He felt torn open. Eviscerated. As if he should howl for the pain of it. His eyes were pits of coal. Hot and dry and empty. Leonardo wanted to cry. To give some vent to the storm of anguish and regret that wracked him.

But to give his grief voice would make it real. So he held her to him, silent and still. As if by denial, he could undo the tragedy he wrought.

[wellimaginethat]

Trouble in Paradise

Pairing: Jay Halstead x (female) Reader, Kelly Severide x Best Friend!Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 1839

Author’s Note: So Danger Prone was originally just supposed to be a oneshot, but a couple people seemed to want a part two and I honestly thought a part two would be great and now I’m already planning a third installment of this new series.

Trigger Warning(s): Car accident mention, being held at gunpoint mention, fluff

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N thinks Jay is going to break up with her, but she couldn’t be more wrong. (Second part to Danger Prone, but you don’t really need to read that if you don’t want too, because this could be a standalone piece)

Y/N = Your Name

Y/LN = Your Last Name

Part One

Tag List: @jayxuptons​, @bethii1​, @tonio-dawson​, @drakelover78​ , @lorenakaspersen​ (want to be tagged in future chapters of this fic? leave a comment or shoot me a message!)

It was no secret to anyone how much you and Jay loved each other. You seemed perfect together and everyone thought so.

And that was what led him to act a little screwy lately. You couldn’t understand it, everything seemed so perfect and he seemed to love you and you were happy. And then he started acting weird around you. You were worried he was going to break up with you.

And that crushed you, after everything the two of you had been through, it absolutely devastated you just to think about him breaking up with you.

So you tried your hardest not to think about it. But it was obvious that something was bothering you. Everyone at the house noticed and that was what led your best friend to plop down in the chair next to you and give you that look.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Kelly asked, crossing his arms.

You did your best to muster up a smile and shake off your worries, but it was so obviously faked. “What do you mean? I’m fine.” You hated how your voice broke on the word ‘fine’

Kelly’s brows furrowed together and he shook his head. “Don’t give me that.” He unfolded his arms and leaned towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Talk to me, what’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

You sniffled at just the thought of what you were about to say. “I’m pretty sure Jay’s gonna break up with me.”

This shocked Kelly and it was obvious, he had only been joking when he asked if there was trouble in paradise, he didn’t actually think you and Jay would be having issues. “What are you talking about? He loves you.” The frown returned. “What would make you think that he’s going to break up with you?”

“He’s just been acting really weird lately and I can’t help but think it’s because he’s sick of me.” You told Kelly quietly, swallowing back your emotions.

“Why would you even think that? He’s lucky to have you.” Kelly told you, still frowning because this was preposterous.

“Yeah, right.” You rolled your tear filled eyes before wiping underneath them, trying to keep the tears from sliding down your cheeks because you would not cry at work over some man. But it wasn’t some man, it was Jay Halstead, the love of your life...or who you thought was the love of your life.

“I’m serious.” Kelly told you with a huff.

“What’s so lucky about having a girlfriend who’s clumsy as hell and gets herself injured or almost killed every other month?” You asked him, annoyed and frustrated, but Kelly knew better than to take it to heart.

“It’s not every other month.” Kelly told you.

“Oh really? Two weeks ago I was in that car accident, two months ago I fell through a floor on a call, a month before that I was held at freaking gun point, and a few weeks before that I fell off your boat when we went out on the lake!” You huffed out, your voice raising and gaining the attention of some of your coworkers.

“The car accident and being held at gunpoint weren’t your fault. And any one of us could’ve fallen through the floor on that call, and...I have nothing to say about the boat incident because that really was you just being clumsy.” Kelly told you, a small smile forming on his face.

You looked at him and couldn’t even muster up enough energy to give him a fake smile. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working.”

Kelly sighed and patted your shoulder. “Okay, well drinks on me at Molly’s tonight.” He told you as he stood up.

You shook your head. “I don’t think-”

“Uh-uh, not taking no for an answer.” Kelly told you. “And I’m not taking maybes either.”

You huffed and smiled a little bit at him before nodding. “Yeah okay.”

“Good.”

And just then the alarm went off signalling that there was a fire and you all were needed.

The call went by fairly smoothly, all things considered. It was fairly simple to be honest and when you guys got back to the house, it was time for your much earned R and R and you all were sent home.

“Molly’s. Tonight. Six.” Kelly told you, pointing at you as you walked to your newish car, the replacement to your old car that was totaled.

You gave him a thumbs up as you got into your car, smiling a bit and laughing before you drove home.

When you got to your apartment, you went to get some sleep before getting up around noon and cleaning some. Eventually, five rolled around and you decided you should probably start getting ready to meet Kelly at Molly’s.

Jay walked into Molly’s and saw Kelly sitting at a table, he walked over to him. “Hey can I talk to you for a second?” “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” Kelly told him, motioning for him to take a seat across from him.

“Why’s that?” Jay asked, frowning a bit.

“Y/N seems to think you’re going to break up with her.” Kelly told him simply.

Jay seemed to be taken aback. “What? That’s ridiculous.” He frowned. “Why would she think that?”

“Apparently, according to her, you’ve been acting weird lately.” Kelly explained, leaning on the table. “So what’s going on? Are you cheating on her or something?”

“No, of course not.” Jay frowned even deeper. “I’ve just been trying to figure out the best way to ask her to marry me.”

Kelly was shocked by that answer. “Oh...wow.”

Jay nodded some. “So...any suggestions?”

Kelly paused for a moment. “Somewhere private.” He told him after some thought. “She hates people staring at her, and she’s a diehard romantic, but she would hate for it to be over the top.”

“Of course.” Jay nodded, chuckling a bit. “I know how she hates when people make a fuss over her.”

Kelly laughed a bit and nodded. “That’s true.”

The two of them fell silent for a moment.

“So, when are you gonna pop the question?” Kelly finally asked.

Jay hummed in thought. “Soon, especially since she thinks I’m going to break up with her.”

“Good idea.” Kelly nodded and saw you walk in from across the bar. “She’s here.”

Jay turned in his seat before getting up and walking over to meet you with a smile. “Hey.”

You looked at him and smiled. “Hey.” You said softly, trying not to let on that you thought your relationship was ending.

Jay wrapped an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked to the bar. “You got any plans tonight?”

“Well Kelly wanted to hang out here…” You shrugged a bit.

“And after?” Jay asked, looking at you.

You shrugged again. “I don’t know, why?”

“Maybe you could come over?”

You nodded slowly. “Okay…” You ordered yourself a drink and before you could pay for it, Jay had tossed some money down. “You didn’t have to buy my drink, I’m a big girl.”

Jay furrowed his brows. “And I’m your boyfriend.”

“Okay, and?” You asked, not looking at him as you picked up your drink.

“What do you mean ‘and’?” Jay asked, his frown deepening. “All I wanted was to buy my girl a drink, what’s so wrong with that?”

You huffed out a sigh. “Nothing.”

The frown didn’t leave his face. “Is something wrong?” Of course he knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to let you know that he had talked to Kelly.

“Nothing’s wrong, Jay.” You huffed out. “I just had a bad day.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and went to walk past him.

“Woah wait.” Jay said, grabbing your hand in his to stop you.

You turned and finally looked at him. “What?”

Jay took your drink from your hand and set it on the bar. “Herrmann, can you watch these for us for a minute?” He asked and Herrmann nodded, next thing you knew Jay was pulling you outside.

“What are you doing?” You asked, frowning as you tried pulling your hand from his grip.

“We need to talk.” Jay told you, frowning.

You stopped in your tracks once you guys were outside, fear filling you because you thought you knew what was coming. He was going to break up with you. Your suspicions were right. “Okay.” You said after a moment, swallowing hard.

Jay turned to face you. “I love you.”

“Okay…” You said quietly. “But you’re breaking up with me?”

Jay shook his head. “No, I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Then why have you been acting so...different?” You asked, tears filling your eyes.

“Because I’m nervous.” Jay told you.

You looked at him. “Nervous? What for?”

“Because I love you and I want to ask you to marry me but I don’t know how.” Jay told you, hating that it came down to this.

You stopped, blinking a few times in shock. “You...want to marry me?”

“Of course I do.” Jay said softly.

You smiled wide. “Really?”

“Really.” Jay said softly, smiling as well. “So…?”

“So…?” You asked, looking at him.

“What do you say?” Jay asked softly.

Your smile turned to a smirk. “Well, you haven’t really asked me yet, so…”

Jay chuckled softly. “And I don’t really have the ring with me right now.” He said softly.

“You could still ask.” You told him softly.

Jay nodded a bit and knelt down. “Y/N Y/LN will you marry me?” He asked softly, looking up at you.

You grinned wide and nodded. “Of course.”

Jay stood up and gently pulled you in for a kiss. “I love you so much.” He said softly.

You smiled. “I love you too.” You whispered back.

“We should head back inside.” Jay said after a moment.

“Yeah, probably a good idea.” You agreed and nodded, turning to head back inside only for Jay to spin you back around and kiss you again.

“Okay, now we can head back inside.” Jay grinned.

You laughed softly and turned to head back inside again, picking your drink up from the bar and thanking Herrmann before heading over to where Kelly was sitting.

“Everything good?” Kelly asked, raising a brow at you.

You smiled wide. “Everything’s great.” Squeezing Jay’s hand, keeping the secret between the two of you for now, everyone else would know soon enough.

Kelly nodded and shared what seemed like a knowing look with Jay, but you couldn’t comment because Kim walked over. “There you are, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. How are you doing since the accident?”

You smiled. “I’m doing good Kim, how’ve you been?” You asked her as she pulled you into a hug.

“Been good.”

You got roped into a conversation with her, glancing at Jay and Kelly, you’d question Jay about the look later on.