#anyway. F and A are addressed a little bit in a future chapter but I wanted to add the stuff that I couldn't fit in the book itself

[greenerteacups]

Half of the kingdom for Angelina, Fred and George dynamic! I shan't pretend I understand it but I sure as hell enjoy it!

You and Fred both!

Fred and Angie are the type of FWB couple whose reasons for not dating, inter alia, center on both of them just... not really caring that much. Romance isn't a priority for either of them; I think that when they started liking each other, it was a gradually developing case of mutual attraction under circumstances where neither one had time for a relationship. Angelina is busy trying to hold a quidditch team together, and it's hard enough without this doofus beater eating up more of her time than he already does. As for Fred, he's diligently preoccupied trying to put Minerva McGonagall in an early grave, and I think deep down he probably has a 17-year-old boy's healthy terror of commitment, too. But he does respect Angelina a hell of a lot, and he makes her laugh — something that she, as a generally serious person, could do with a bit more of. When he's not making a fool of himself, and she's not busy with the soul-eating job of being the following act for Oliver Wood, I imagine them having a comfortable, lowkey, no-strings FWB arrangement. Like, they were teammates before they were ever involved, and when you've seen someone's ass platonically, it takes the edge off seeing it in other contexts.

George is also here. The twins are such a social unit that anyone dating one of them sort of gets a two-for-one special, but the fact that Angie doesn't take it seriously helps to make things un-awkward. In fact, I think she's actually quite fond of George — he's more chill than Fred is, and a little bit sweeter, easier to get along with — and having known them both since first year, Angie probably understands that if you're involved with Fred, George is going to Be Around. It's like a love triangle where only one leg is romantic, and also everyone is eminently cool and happy to hang out with each other.

[kimvvantae]

the misadventures list; 2 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: explicit sexual content in future chapters. sexual tension. coarse language. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

A/N: i didn't even expect to update this one so soon but i'm so excited about this story!!! hope you guys like it!!! don't forget to leave some feedback, it's SUPER important :)

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

You angrily check yourself out in the mirror.

"Basic." You probably never sounded as bitter as you do now. "I'll show him who's basic."

It's true that you've been changing clothes for the past hours, trying to figure out the best comfy outfit to go shopping. Certainly not because you'll be seen with Jimin in public, but because his comment on how basic you looked indeed pissed you off.

You're almost paranoid at this point. Tried to combine every pant, every skirt, every shirt you own. Then you thought, wait, am I trying to impress that fucker?!, and you realized that you're not in your normal state of mind.

Maybe because you really quit your job two days ago.

Your chance of giving up is officially over. Now, you're jobless. You have to go until the end.

This is probably what made you even more paranoid.

Your phone rings. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you pick it up, already knowing who's on the other side of the line.

"Good morning, girlfriend!" he says in a teasing, happy tone. You snort.

"Did you suddenly forget my name?"

"I'm getting used to it. We have to be convincing." You can almost see his pout through the phone.

"Calling your girlfriend girlfriend isn't convincing at all."

Jimin hums.

"You're right. I'm calling you pretty from now on, then."

Shut up, stupid nerves. Don't feel goosebumps just because he called you pretty.

"Anyway, are you ready?" You ask.

"I'm always ready, baby. Waiting for you in front of the store."

It's hard to not roll your eyes. "Okay. I'll be there in a minute."

You hang up and shove the phone inside of your shoulder bag, staring at yourself in the mirror one last time.

High waisted denim shorts. A white buttoned shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled, three buttons opened. Unfortunately, Jimin was right about your double ends, so you tied your hair up in a high bun. A little bit of makeup. Black combat boots to match the black bag.

Simple, but not basic.

You huff, nodding at yourself before finally leaving the apartment. Of course you wouldn't give him your address, so he's waiting for you in front of the convenience store.

A cold hits your stomach as you walk down the street. God, this is actually happening. You agreed to go to freaking Hawaii. In any other circumstances you'd be happy - not even in a million years you'd be able to travel to Hawaii, to stay in a five stars resort on top of that - but you're going to impress a bunch of rich people. This is stressful because (1) fuck rich people and (2) fuck impressing others. Yet, again - you already quit your job. There's no going back.

And you have the impression that Jimin wouldn't let you off this one.

The cold in your stomach hits harder as you spot him in front of the convenience store - not that you're the only person to spot him.

The first thing people probably notice is the car he's leaning on - a shiny black BMW (fuck car names!). The second thing is almost as impressive as the car: Jimin himself.

That son of a bitch is attractive.

It's even funny, because he's not wearing anything impressive at all. He wears all black today: a simple shirt, black pants (he must have a lot of them), a thin belt, leather lace up shoes, a shoulder bag and his signature sunglasses. His hair is shiny again. To finish it off, as usual, he wears many silver rings and earrings. Sure, every piece of his "simple" outfit might cost more than your monthly salary, but it is still simple. The man makes the outfit, not the clothes themselves. Jimin is freaking elegant. Even the way he stands there exudes elegance. It's impossible to not look at him.

Again - you don’t know if you’re attracted to him or just jealous.

Jimin also spots you as you walk down the street.

Look.

You’re not usually the type to get all flustered because of men. That’s probably the reason they end up into you; you’re hard to read. They like the chase, you like to feel wanted. It’s easy to hold a poker face, make them intrigued to know what’s going inside your head, if they attract you or not.

But Jimin.

This man.

As you come closer and closer to him, he slowly takes his glasses off and a smirk grows on his lips. You know very well that all of his attention is on you; he turns his body in your direction, his eyes gleaming with approval.

This man makes your legs feel weak. This man makes it hard to act unbothered, because the heat creeping up your neck is impossible to ignore.

The same man that looked at you with puppy eyes not too many nights ago.

This fucking man.

You stand in front of him, trying to control your damn nerves. He looks up and down your body, nodding softly.

“Wow. Look at how pretty my girlfriend is.” He says in a rather quiet and deeper voice that sends actual shivers down your spine. He still has that tiny smile on his lips, yet he doesn’t sound playful at all. “I don’t even think you should change your appearance at all right now.”

You tilt your head slightly and cross your arms.

“I wouldn’t mind not doing it. You’re the one wanting me to change my appearance, which is insulting to some level.”

Jimin laughs, once again throwing his head back slightly. “I already told you why we’re doing this! My brother will recognize you if we don’t do something about your hair, at least.” He explains. “Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise! I’m always fun to be around!”

“Right.” You eye him suspiciously, making him giggle as he opens the door to the passenger’s seat. “Just don’t overdo it, okay? I’ll get a haircut and call it a day.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, smiling sweetly. “I want to spoil my girlfriend today.”

“You’re taking this too seriously.”

“I’m never not serious, baby.”

Again - that damn eyebrow raise.

It’s impossible not to gulp as you enter the car.

You’re definitely in trouble.

Every big city has that type of mall that seems to scream poor people are not allowed.

Jimin parks in front of one of them.

He, of course, does not look bothered at all - this is his type of place. He confidently walks out of the car (you hop off before he can actually open the door for you), putting the car keys on the valet parking’s hand (rich people malls have valet parkings!) and smiling prettily.

“Take care of it for me, will you?” His voice is smooth like silk.

You see the other man blush.

Yet, you don’t have time to make any comments when Jimin grabs your hand unceremoniously, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Let’s go!” he says excitedly, guiding you inside the mall’s gigantic front doors.

You frown. “Is this really necessary?”

“This what?”

You point to your intertwined hands, raising your eyebrows. “Aren’t we supposed to pretend in front of your family? I don’t see any family here.”

“This is training.” He explains as if it’s obvious. “Body language is important. No one will believe that we’re actually dating if we stand one meter apart from each other. We have to act like we’re intimate.”

Okay. That’s fair.

Something that most people might not know is that rich people malls are pretty empty. Differently from regular malls that are almost always packed with people, the stores (rich people call them boutiques for some stupid reason) almost never have actual customers inside of them. You see more security guards than actual customers as you walk past the main hall.

The few customers that are there, though, look at you both.

Literally all of them.

You try your best to ignore it, to keep the poker face plastered on your face, but you're definitely not used to this amount of attention. Hell, you've been working at a convenience store for the past three months. People barely ever pay attention to attendants at all. Most of them don’t say thank you or even a simple good night. Jimin, on the other hand, seems unfazed by them.

He suddenly stops and looks at his right, making you stop as well.

“Oh!” He looks at you with round eyes. “They just released their new collection. We should check it out!”

When you look at the store he’s pointing at, your stomach drops.

“No.” You say, shaking your head. “We’re not going there.”

“‘No’ is your favorite word, right?” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Come on, what’s the problem?”

“You said I was just getting a simple haircut.” Jimin doesn’t understand why you look so apprehensive. “Are you sure I have to wear fucking Chanel?”

Jimin blinks, clearly missing the point.

“Do you have anything against Chanel?” He tilts his head, confused. “Don’t you like their style?”

“No, that’s not the point.” You lower your voice, aware of the curious people around. “It’s just that I’ll feel uncomfortable if you spend a lot of money on me. Do I really need to use this type of brand?” You point at yourself. “Do you see the outfit I’m wearing? Perfectly cute, right? I spent less than $150 on everything. We don’t need to go that far.”

Jimin looks stunned for a moment.

Then, he laughs.

As usual, he laughs with his whole body. You’d usually roll your eyes at someone who’s always so boisterous, but there’s something charming and cute at the way he laughs that won’t let you think this way. Not just his laughter, honestly. Everything he does is charming and cute.

Cute is usually not the word you think of when you feel attracted to a man. Most of the time, it’s the serious and quiet type of man that would have you dropping your panties in no time. Bonus points if he’s smart and hard-working. You’ve always worked so hard in your entire life that you wouldn’t accept anything less of a possible partner. You want someone that has their shit together.

Jimin is the opposite.

Spoiled, scandalous, dramatic, never worked in his life because he never needed to. And he’s rich on top of that. Your experience in that particular school taught you how unbearable rich and attractive guys can be.

Yet, here you are, thinking that whenever he throws his head back as he laughs, his eyes almost completely closing, he looks nothing less than adorable.

He’s weird, but you’re 100% attracted to him. You have no reason to deny that.

But he’s still weird.

You better be careful not to catch actual feelings for him. You don’t need to have spent a lot of time with him to understand that he knows his charms and he uses it and he probably changes partners like he changes clothes.

Careful, careful.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Y/N, you’re cute,” he says, still giggling. “What type of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t buy my girlfriend some gifts?”

“You don’t need to be so serious about this.”

“But that’s not the only reason, Y/N. My parents - and everyone from this social circle, to be honest - take appearance very seriously. How you look is more important than your personality. You have to look impressive if you want them to think highly of you. And unfortunately, they know the difference between Shein and Chanel.”

You sigh, already feeling tired. “This is stupid.”

Jimin giggles again. “You’re funny. Most people I date are always waiting for the moment I buy things for them.”

Oh.

This is kind of sad.

You don’t know if Jimin genuinely doesn’t care or if he’s just a master in hiding his true emotions.

“Well, you’ve been dating the wrong people, my friend.”

He simply shrugs and smirks. “Do you mean I’m dating the right person now?”

“Fake dating.”

Jimin chuckles. “Anyway. Let me spoil you, pretty.”

He leads you into the store.

As soon as he walks in, a neatly dressed seller approaches you two with a pristine smile.

“Welcome back, Mr. Park!” She says. “It’s been quite a long time since you’ve been here!”

“Oh! Hello, Helena. How have you been?” Jimin smiles sweetly.

Once again - you see the blush creeping on her cheeks.

“I’m fine, thank you. Did you come to check out the new collection? I would have reserved some pieces for you if you told me you’d be coming! I guess you already know what’s the best items at the men’s wear section this season-”

“Oh, no, Helena. I didn’t come to buy anything for myself today… rather, I want you to show us everything new from women’s wear.” He says politely.

Even though you entered the store holding hands, the woman literally just noticed you.

And you see it.

The judging eyes.

How she discreetly measures you up and down - and, as Jimin said, this woman clearly knows the difference between Shein and Chanel.

You can almost hear the thoughts going on inside her head. She probably thinks you’re a prostitute. Or a gold digger. Or both.

Yet, her pristine smile doesn’t falter.

“Of course! Come on, I’ll show you everything.”

She guides you around the store. You're currently the only customers. You pass your eyes by the pieces of clothing, purses and shoes that are so ridiculously expensive that only someone that has a monthly salary of six digits and beyond could purchase.

"Those are the items presented at the Paris Fashion Week." she explains proudly.

Jimin immediately drops your hand and approaches a particular dress, touching it slightly. "Y/N, this is perfect. I bought a Louis Vuitton suit these days that will match!"

You frown, crossing your arms. "And we have to match our outfits?"

"Of course! It's cute!" He exclaims, smiling widely.

"At least let me see the suit, then. Let me see if it really matches." He pouts.

"Don't you trust me?"

"I have to agree with you. I'm not letting you put me in whatever you want."

Jimin shrugs, taking his phone out of his pocket. After a quick Google research, he shows you a picture of the suit.

"Oh, it will surely match!" you didn't even remember the seller is still standing there. "A good choice, Mr. Park!"

"See, Y/N? We should-"

"I don't think we should wear exactly the same color." You deadpan. "A cream tone would match much better with this suit. Besides, we're going to Hawaii, right? A lighter dress would be better."

"And what do you suggest?" He quirks his eyebrow up.

"A Jacquemus pastel yellow dress from the latest collection." you say as if it's obvious. "It's short and young and pretty. Much more my style. We can match our outfits with the details. Like that golden Rolex of yours."

Jimin nods. "I guess you're right."

"But I like that short blazer, by the way." You say, pointing to a white blazer with silver embroidery. "Could you get one my size, please?"

Helena's look of disdain quiets down as you inform her your size. She disappears inside the store quickly.

Jimin crosses his arms and stares at you, looking impressed.

"For someone that didn't even want to get inside the store, you seem to be enjoying this very much!" He remarks.

"I'm not." You can't hide your scowl. Your blood boils in anger. "That bitch. Did you see the way she looked down on me? As if I wouldn't know anything about fashion! I'm poor, not stupid!"

Maybe you're overreacting, but the way she looked at you triggered all of your past traumas. Rich teenage girls side-eyeing your worn out tennis shoes or mocking the fact that you didn't have the latest, most expensive iPhone in hands.

Jimin opens a comforting smile. "Ow, come on. She's just trying to do her job."

"She should do a better job." You stare at him angrily. "She thinks I'm a whore. And she's jealous because a whore is with you."

Jimin giggles. "Can you tell all that just by spending two minutes with her?"

"Yeah. I'm good at observing people."

"What can I do if people just keep falling for me?" Jimin shrugs, faking an innocent expression. "I'm irresistible."

"Sure." Jimin giggles again when you roll your eyes. "Anyways, let me have a closer look-" As you step closer to the mannequin, finally seeing the tiny price tag attached to the blazer you just ordered, your eyes widen and your stomach drops. "Oh my God. I take it back, Jimin. Let's leave this place before she comes back."

"Why?" He looks very amused at your reaction.

"Did you see how much that costs?! I'm gonna choose a cheaper one!"

This time, Jimin laughs for real and holds your hand tightly once again. "Nope, missy. We're buying that. I have a suit in mind that will match. And we're going after that Jacquemus dress you talked about."

It doesn't sound that he's willing to go back on his words.

Shit.

You watch Jimin attently from across the table, arms crossed.

The waitress comes back. You notice how she has been putting strands of hair behind her ear, the shy smile, how her eyes dart towards his lips more than once.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?” Jimin asks. You shake your head.

“No. Just mango juice.” You say once again.

“Okay. Then, one mango juice and one strawberry juice, please.” He eyes the menu with a thoughtful frown, then his expression lights up as he spots something. “Oh! Could you bring me some chips as well?”

“Of course. Would you want the medium sized or the large?” The waitress asks. Jimin hums quietly.

“Medium sized, please.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” She says. When Jimin smiles at her, you freaking see the damn blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you!”

She walks away from your table, albeit hesitantly, leaving you alone in the almost empty food court of the mall.

Jimin looks back at you, a resting smile on his face. He notices the way you’re narrowing your eyes and he frowns.

“What?”

“Can you stop flirting with random people?”

He looks confused.

Sure, he didn’t say anything weird to the waitress. But it’s the way he looked at her and his body language and fuck - everything he did was somehow inviting.

And he has been doing that to literally anyone. From the valet parking to the seller at the Chanel store and at the Givenchy store and at the Dior store and at the Alexander Wang store and to the waitress.

He made women and men blush back to back.

It’s starting to get on your nerves.

“I’m not flirting.” He says, his eyebrows shot up in an innocent look.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not! I swear!” Slowly, his expression becomes playful. “What? Are you jealous, pretty?”

“I’m not jealous. It’s just that we’re walking around holding hands, acting like a couple, yet you keep flirting with anything that breathes. It’s making me look stupid.”

Jimin giggles, putting his hand over his chest. “I’m sorry, pretty. Seriously, I’m not flirting with anyone.” He licks his lips. Jesus, he has to stop doing that. It’s so distracting. “Believe me, if I was flirting with them, it’d be all over.”

He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. You just stare at him, eyes still narrowed.

“Anyways.” You rest your back on the chair. “Do you really think your brother won’t recognize me?” You touch the strands of your newly cut hair with your fingertips (no more split ends!), feeling a little bit worried. “I don’t think I look that different at all.”

“I’m sure he won’t. He saw you in that ugly uniform and ponytail. With your new haircut and clothes, he won’t even realize you’re the same person.”

“Wow. Thanks for passive-aggressively calling me ugly in my natural state.” You whine.

“I didn’t say that. I thought you were pretty from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Jimin says defensively. How can he say this type of thing so absently?! “As I said, you just looked basic. Now, you look anything but basic.”

As much as you hated the word “basic”, you kind of have to agree.

You drop your eyes to the bags laying around your legs. Jimin and you planned every single outfit you’ll be wearing each day of your stay in Hawaii - the arrival, the reception dinner, the golf and evening tea (evening tea in freaking Hawaii? What’s wrong with these people?!), the private concert at night, then the actual anniversary ceremony on the third day. Jimin also lowkey forced you to buy a few more things to wear in between the events (like that lace nightgown he shamelessly put on your hands, giving you a suggestive look, but he gave up when you almost shoved the nightgown down his throat).

You can’t even measure how much money is resting around your legs right now. It makes you feel awkward. Jimin repeated more than once that the money he spent on you wasn’t even “that much”, but you can’t forget that the Chanel blazer you chose cost nothing less than (gasp) $8,000, and that other Givenchy dress cost $2,000, and that Alexander Wang sandal cost $600-

Your brain is like a calculator.

You could buy a nice car with all this money combined. Hell, you could even move to a better apartment. Furniture and all.

Jimin seemed very unamused as he took his black card out of his wallet to pay for everything. He wasn’t even checking price tags. How stupidly surreal is it that someone can spend so much money on clothing? Hell, you’ve been struggling to buy food for the past few months. Most people would beam over the fact that they’d be wearing luxury brands; you, however (although you’ve been interested in fashion for quite a few years, keeping up with new trends, fashion weeks and collections), have a bitter taste on your tongue. This doesn’t feel right at all, it doesn’t matter how rich he is.

But you agreed to participate in this craziness and Jimin’s money already left his bank account, so you swallow your morals and focus on your mission.

The waitress comes back with your orders (wow, this lady’s fast. Maybe she worked faster motivated by the fact that she’d see Jimin’s pretty smile again). The moment she turns around, you lean in closer to Jimin.

“Okay. Let’s trace our strategy.” You say. “How do you think we can impress your parents? How are their personalities?”

Jimin puts the straw between his lips and sips his strawberry juice. Goddamn distracting lips. “Well, let me see… my father is the typical soulless businessman.” Jimin starts. “Not to put you under pressure, but he’ll hate you the moment he meets you.”

“I don’t feel pressured at all after hearing this,” you say sarcastically.

“He’ll research your entire life in a minute and when he finds out you’re not some millionaire heiress, he’s gonna hate your guts.” Jimin continues after sipping a little bit more. “The way to get to him is by showing that you’re actually smart and hard-working. You see, my father cares about appearances, but he also values hard-work since he himself works so hard that he barely has a life outside of the company.”

“And finding out that I’m a ‘good girl’ will magically make him give up forcing you into marrying some rich heiress who could bring a potential commercial accord to his company?” It sounds impossible.

“For now, yes.” Jimin says. “He won’t leave me alone, I know. But my father is not the type to make accords. He would never tie Aurum to any other company through marriage or whatever other methods. He wants to destroy his competitors. My father wants me to marry a rich girl from a ‘traditional household’”, he rolls his eyes as he says that, “because it’ll make the Park family look good on the news. I wouldn’t even have proposed this plan if I knew he wanted me to marry someone for business motives at all.”

You nod slowly. It makes sense. Ever since you agreed with this thing, you’ve been researching everything about the Aurum Steel Company, and it’s true that their business strategy is aggressive - even ruthless. Whenever a mining company seemed to be becoming successful, Aurum bought them for such high prices that they just couldn’t refuse. Slowly, the company was becoming one of the best - and only - in the whole world.

“Alright. What about your mother?”

“She’ll also hate you.” Jimin states. “But she’ll like your fierce personality.”

You knit your eyebrows awkwardly. “I’m not fierce.”

“You are.” He remarks, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “I’ve been hearing my whole life how she hates weak and submissive women. You just have to show that you’re not like that and she’ll be fine with you.”

“Okay.” You nod once again, playing with the straw inside of the tall cup of juice. “One more question. We have no photos together on our social media. Won’t it be suspicious?”

“No. I never post photos with anyone on my SNS.” Jimin says.

Indeed. You’ve also been researching Jimin (just to be sure that he’s not a psycho). It wasn’t hard to find his Instagram account - and your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the absurd number of 500k followers. His feed was carefully planned out: only pictures of him showcasing his luxurious life. It looked very professional and not so personal. Very different from your humble account with less than one thousand followers; just like any other normal person, you like to post pictures of yourself and also important things happening in your life.

“Why is that?” You’re genuinely curious.

“I would lose half of my followers if I ever revealed that I’m dating someone.” Jimin explains nonchalantly, chewing some of his chips. “It’s the idea of a hot and single rich guy that makes them fantasize about having a chance and follow me.”

You stare at him, wide eyed, for many seconds. Jimin lifts his eyes to look at you after a while. “What?”

“How can you say that with a straight face?”

“But it’s true!” He shrugs.

“Some people would try to pretend to be a little modest.”

“I have no time for false modesty, honey.” He eats more chips. “Any more questions?”

“Won’t your family think it’s too suspicious of you to conveniently show up with a girlfriend?”

“No. I never introduced any girlfriend to them. They’ll think it’s a huge thing.”

You freeze once again.

“Really?”

“Really. Why does everything I say surprises you?”

“Because… I don’t know.” You sip a little bit of your mango juice, avoiding his gaze. “This was unexpected.”

Jimin giggles. “Why would I introduce every person I date to my parents?”

He just confirmed that he indeed fucks around alot. You shrug, nodding. “That’s fair.”

“Besides, as I already said, I meet my parents, like, once a year, usually at their wedding anniversary. This means they know very little about my love life anyway.”

“They take this wedding anniversary thing very seriously, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Every damn year. They invite a bunch of people they hate just to show off their wealth and how they have the perfect and successful family.”

You sip more juice. “So you avoid seeing them.”

Jimin nods. “I know what you’re thinking. What an ungrateful son.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I can’t judge you. I don’t see my parents that often, either.”

Jimin goes silent.

He leans on the table, a very apparent interest in his eyes as he analyzes you.

“What?” It’s your turn to ask.

“It’s just that you know pretty much everything about my life, but I barely know anything about you.”

You snort, once again playing with the straw. “You decided to spill your whole life on me because you wanted to.”

“Aw, come on. We have to know each other at least a little if we want to be convincing.”

You never thought that an adult man's pout would be able to make you give in so easily. You sigh. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

Jimin rests his cheek on his palm. “What you just said about your parents…”

“Nope.” You’re quick to cut him off. “I won’t talk about that.”

Pout intensifies. “But you know everything about my family drama! Why can’t I know about yours?!”

“Again - you told me because you wanted to tell me. I’m not as eager to expose my traumas like that.”

Jimin huffs dramatically. God, he’s such a kid. “Okay. Then, next question.” You notice the way he eyes you hesitantly. “Look, I don’t wanna sound offensive at all…”

“I don’t even know what you’re gonna ask, but I’m already offended.”

He giggles. This man giggles a lot. Is it weird that you don’t get tired of hearing his giggles, though? “Please, I’m just curious. It’s just that… well… how you knew about that Jacquemus dress…”

“You’re surprised that a poor person like me would know a high fashion brand, isn’t it?”

Jimin gulps, eyes widened. “No!”

You glare at him quietly.

“...Yes.” He admits, shoulders dropping. “I don’t want to offend you! I remember what you said about the seller at the Chanel store! It’s just that… I don’t know, you didn’t seem all that amused about everything. I mean, I saw your jaw dropping at price tags all the time, but I almost feel that you’re… used to it?”

He’s clearly stepping on eggs as he stumbles to find the right words. Once again, the only reason that won’t make you want to punch his face is that Jimin looks genuinely curious. You can’t see or sense any hint of scorn in his expression or voice.

“It’s not that I’m used to it myself. I’m used to seeing people wear those brands.” You tap your nails over the table, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. You don’t really like to talk about your past - especially to someone that you met just a few days ago. “I studied at a private school, you know. As a scholarship holder. It was full of rich kids. So… yeah, for a good while it was normal to see people walking around wearing Gucci and stuff.”

His interest seems to grow further. “Which school did you study at?” As Jimin hears the school’s name leave your lips, his eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression. “Really? I have some friends that studied there!”

“I figured.” You nod, taping your nails over the table more nervously.

He watches you in silence for a few seconds.

“It wasn’t a good experience?” He asks quietly.

Damn right. “Thanks to studying there, I absolutely hate the rich.”

“Do you hate me?” He blinks prettily. You tilt your head, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You still didn’t do anything for me to absolutely hate you, so no. Yet. Actually, I kinda hate you for thinking I wouldn’t know what Jacquemus is. Poor people can be interested in high fashion too, did you know that?”

“Aw, come on, that’s not what I meant!” He smiles, yet his eyes look apologetic. His smile gets smaller and he takes somewhat of a more serious expression. “Thank you for doing this, Y/N.”

“What? Are you getting emotional all of sudden?” You lean back. Jimin chuckles.

“No. It’s just that… after you told me this, I guess going on this trip to be surrounded by people like me must be awful to you. So… thank you for accepting to do it anyway.”

You weren’t expecting that.

Jimin spent thousands on you. Anyone else in his place wouldn’t be taking your feelings into consideration. I’m paying anyway, it’s what they would think. But Jimin immediately understood that your experiences were indeed awful and that, yes, your hate for rich people isn’t unreasonable.

This makes you soften.

You shrug. “Well, as long as you put me in the company as you promised, I’m okay with everything.” After sipping a little bit more of the juice, you quietly add: “And you’re not like them at all.”

His smile widens.

Your heart shouldn’t be beating as fast as it is right now, should it?

When you realize that you’ve been staring at each other in silence for an embarrassing long time, you clean your throat and finally avoid his gaze, staring at the ice cubes inside of the cup. “Okay, any more questions?”

“Oh! Let me think…” He frowns, then his face lights up in a playful expression. “Why are you single?”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s a strange question.”

“It’s a perfectly normal question.”

“No, it’s not. You’re saying why are you single as if it’s my choice to be single.”

“But it is your choice, right?” the fucking smirk again. “I’m also good at reading people, Y/N, and I can tell that you’d be dating someone if you wanted to.”

You stare at each other in silence.

Quietly, you consider if telling him the truth is worth it.

No. It’s definitely not worth it.

But you sigh and rest your face on your palm, mirroring his position. You know what? Jimin’s right, he deserves to know at least a little bit of your disgrace.

“I broke up with my boyfriend two months ago.” You admit. “No… He broke up with me. Said some bullshit about wanting his space. Then, he showed up dating a friend of mine literally one week later.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to look totally shocked.

“Are you serious?!” He exclaims, outraged. You tiredly nod.

“Yep. This friend of mine, by the way, always said that our relationship was toxic and encouraged me to break up with him.” You sip more juice. It kinda tastes bitter after you started talking about this. “I mean… I liked him, but being with him wasn’t all that healthy at all. We argued a lot. He wanted me to pay all of my attention to him all the time, complained about how much I studied and worked… shit, he even complained about the size of my skirts.”

“He’s fucking stupid.” Jimin remarks, frowning.

“Yes. Anyway. I think breaking up with him wasn’t that bad after all. But… it still kinda hurt that he ran to her that fast. Like, they didn’t even try to pretend for a while, you know.”

Jimin looks genuinely shocked.

"I don't even know this guy, but I already hate him." He crosses his arms and shakes his head slowly. "Why the hell would he complain about the size of your skirt?! You look great in short skirts!"

"I know, right?!" You agree, outraged.

"I'm glad we bought short dresses. Let's take a lot of pictures and post it on Instagram so he can see it and regret it."

"Didn't you say you never post pictures with anyone on your social media?" You quirk your eyebrow.

Jimin tilts his head and smiles.

"Maybe I found someone that's worth posting."

You roll your eyes as he giggles.

It's impossible to get mad at this man.

Jimin stares at you, concerned. "Are you sure this is your apartment?"

You huff. "Of course. Why?"

"Because it looks like you're trying to break into it."

You giggle, once again pushing the door with your shoulder. "This door has a little problem. It doesn't open if you're gentle. You gotta force it-"

Finally, it opens up with a loud bam as you push it with your shoulder one last time. You exhale, relieved, and open your arms dramatically as Jimin steps in.

"Welcome to my amazing penthouse!"

Jimin takes around half a second to have a full view of the entire place.

It is, indeed, at the top of the four story building. Does it mean you have a wonderful view of the city or that you have more space than the other apartments? Of course not. It's the cheapest one because the heater and the air conditioning system are fucked up - which means when it's cold outside it's cold inside and when it's hot outside it's also hot inside.

It consists of a single room plus a tiny bathroom. Believe it or not, there is an actual kitchen (egg-sized, but it's still a kitchen anyway), a short counter is the only thing that separates the bedroom from it. Your bed occupies almost the entirety of it. The built-in closet helps save some space; your clothes are so perfectly folded that miraculously everything fits in, not even a single centimeter of space unused. It’s also the same with the writing desk in front of the window and the shelves all around. Every space in the room is filled with your belongings, so much that it’s hard for two people to navigate in it. It’s not even that you have too many things, the place is just too small.

“Where can I put these?” Jimin asks, still holding some bags in his hands.

“Over the bed.” You say, carrying bags in your hands as well. “As you can see, this is where the master bedroom is… and the living room… and the dining room… oh! And the games room as well, since here’s where I play my Nintendo Switch.”

Jimin laughs. You watch him intently as he walks in, placing the bags carefully over your neatly made bed. He puts his hands inside the pockets of his pants and looks around once more.

“You’re very organized.” He comments. You tilt your head.

“I can't even walk around if this place isn’t organized.” He chuckles.

“I like it. It feels very cozy.”

You were expecting sarcasm in his tone or expression - like when you hear a compliment that very obviously isn’t a compliment. Being the absurdly rich person he is, you expected him to frown, be uncomfortable or even disgusted at your humble apartment - and God, were you ready to throw hands if he showed any sign of disgust.

That’s not what you see, though.

Jimin looks genuinely amused, no disdain or sarcasm at all. His eyes gleam with the curiosity you’re growing used to; he stretches his neck to see a bookshelf closely, or rapidly eyes a couple of photos you have glued on a grid on the wall.

You huff as you close the door once again. “I’m glad you liked the sardine can that I call home.”

“I’m serious! I like to visit people’s houses. They say a lot about someone.”

“Well, I’m sure it says that I don’t have enough money to fix the infiltration problem at the moment.” The black marks on the kitchen’s wall don’t let you lie. “Oh, that’s Tobey, by the way.”

Jimin frowns, confused, then finally spots what you’re pointing at.

“Oh! You really have a goldfish!” He walks over to where the small aquarium is at the writing desk and waves cutely. “Hello, Tobey. Nice to meet you!”

Shut up, heart. Don’t miss a beat just because he fucking greeted your fish.

“Do you want to drink or eat anything?” You say, walking over to the kitchen and taking a bottle of water. Jimin shakes his head politely.

“No. Wait… is that Pringles?” He narrows his eyes. Indeed, there’s a can sitting over the cabinet along with your stock of noodles.

“Yes.”

He stares at you and smiles.

You know when a toddler wants to eat something so they send you that suggestive look?

Yeah.

“Geez, you can have it. No need to look at me that way.” You hand him the Pringles can from over the counter. Jimin takes it and - believe it - bounces a little. “You really like chips, huh?”

“Mm-hmm!” He says, his mouth already full of it.

You sigh, throwing yourself over the bed. It’s already dark outside. You're relieved that you finally got rid of your shoes, feeling your legs and feet heavy. “God, I’m broken. We walked a marathon.” You notice Jimin standing awkwardly and quickly gesticulate with your hand. “You can sit on the bed, Jimin. As you can see, I don’t have a couch.”

He promptly sits by your side, albeit still hesitantly. You absently check your purse, searching for your phone, but your fingers brush over something else.

You take the passport out of it and narrow your eyes at Jimin.

"You're sure this isn't a falsified passport, right?"

"I already said it's not. You're too suspicious of me. I'm starting to get sad," He pouts dramatically.

"Of course I'm suspicious. Never heard of a passport being done so quickly in my whole life!"

"You're just lucky that your boyfriend is a man that knows a lot of important people that can get things done quickly." He side eyes you with a newly playfulness. "We've been dating for six months, Y/N. You should know this about me already."

Oh. You almost forgot that you've been dating for "this long" if anyone asks you. You huff and take some chips from the can on his hand.

"Sure. And you should know that your girlfriend is paranoid."

Jimin giggles. He finally rests his back against the pillows, propping his body on one elbow. It's weird how you met just a couple of days ago, yet you don't feel uncomfortable or bothered by his presence.

"I know that. I also know that my girlfriend is a clean freak."

“I’m not a clean freak. I’m organized.”

“Sure.” He snorts. “And I know that she has a goldfish called Tobey. Why Tobey, by the way?”

“As in Tobey Maguire.”

Jimin narrows his eyes, trying to muffle the incoming giggles. “The Spider Man?” You nod. “Why?”

“I’m shit at naming things, so I named him after the first thing I saw on TV. Spider Man 2, in this case.”

He shakes his head, eyeing the little fish inside of the aquarium. “Cute. But I feel that he’s staring at me.”

“Yeah, he has this bad habit. It’s his way of intimidating people. You also do that to people, did you know that?”

Jimin tilts his head. “Yeah, my friends already told me this, but most of the time it’s not intentional.”

“Most of the time?”

“Hm-mmh.” He nods. “You would know if it was intentional.”

“Yeah?”

He nods once again and looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Your stomach twirls and you feel yourself gulping.

"Okay, stop." You say, finally breaking eye contact after what seemed to be an eternity. "I got it."

Jimin laughs. "You're cute."

"I'm not cute." You say as you aggressively shove more chips in your mouth. "You are cute."

"I know I'm cute!" Jimin sounds very proud of himself. "Why do you say that as if it's an offense?"

"It's not offensive, but I have a bad bitch reputation and I like it very much, okay? It doesn't include being cute."

"And that's why you're cute."

You narrow your eyes at him again, clearly not getting the point.

God.

You hate the way he's putting that chip inside his mouth. You hate the way his lips are so glossy. You hate the way this motherfucker looks at you. It makes that heat creep the back of your neck once again.

His lips are so pretty.

Fuck.

You want to kiss him.

"You're all serious and sarcastic and hard to read, but you still avoid my gaze all the time." Why is he talking so low now? Why does his voice sound deeper?

You shrug. "Maybe it's because I think you're ugly. Who knows?"

"You don't think I'm ugly." He affirms so strongly that it almost makes you angry at how goddamn cocky he can be. Almost because he's not wrong.

That tiny smirk, the playfulness in his eyes-

Lord, give me strength, for I don't know if I'm strong enough to resist this fucker.

Seriously, how can he look cute and naive in a moment, then literally one second later look like he's a lion ready to jump on you and eat you?

I kinda want to be eaten-

Shut up, brain. Shut. Up.

“You’re too full of yourself, sir.” You break eye contact once again. This doesn’t make the heat leave your body - especially because he chuckles in a low tone, passing his hand through his hair. You also noticed that he has this habit that certainly doesn't make you think he looks hotter every time he does this.

“I already said that I have no time for fake modesty.” He eats more chips.

Silence hovers over you both. It’s hard to think of anything snarky or funny to say because the mood has shifted - it’s not carefree or lighthearted anymore. It’s charged. You didn’t think Jimin would be able to do this so easily. And, for the first time, you realize that you’re sitting side by side on your bed. Your fucking bed. And you think that his lips are so damn inviting, and that you can see his collarbone peeking from under the shirt, and that you’re really really close to each other and you wouldn’t really need to move a lot to press your lips against his.

It also doesn’t help that you don’t have sex with anyone in two months, ever since you broke up.

There is a stupidly attractive man sitting on your bed.

For a moment, you consider this.

It would be just sex, right? What’s the problem with casual sex? It’s not like you never hooked up with anyone in your life. If he’s up to it, then what’s the problem?

The problem is that he’s a weirdo. Hot, but still a weirdo. And he’ll forget about your existence the moment you come back from Hawaii. And he just spent thousands on you, if you actually have sex with him, it will feel like prostitution. Right?

Right. Yeah, right.

Besides, you don’t even know if he’s really up to it, right? Maybe he’s just messing with you. Maybe he just likes to elicit people’s reactions to caress his ego. You can’t say you don’t do it with men, either.

“I hope this works out in the end.” You say quietly, looking at the bags laying just beside your feet. “I would hate to see all this money go to waste.”

“It will, pretty. Don’t worry. I trust you.”

“Oh. Thank you for putting more pressure over me.” Jimin chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours softly.

“I’ll be by your side all the time, okay? So just… follow what I do.”

“I don’t think you’re that reliable of a guide.” His quiet giggle, once again, fills your ears. At this point, if you ever see Jimin not giggling, you’ll be sure that there’s something very wrong with him.

“Why do you keep hurting my feelings like this? I’m always so nice to you!” He pouts.

“It’s not my fault that you look like a confused puppy dog 90% of the time.” You can’t help but smile when he throws his head back as he laughs. When he looks at you again, his eyebrows are wiggling playfully.

“Alright Y/N, I got it that you think I’m cute. No need to keep saying that all the time.”

“I don’t mean it as a compliment!”

“You don’t? Really?” He crosses his arms.

“I don’t. Definitely not. I don’t think cute people are reliable. Even less reliable if they have cute hands.”

Jimin leans away and puts his hands over his chest, his face contorting in a dramatic offended expression.

“Cute hands?! You’re saying my hands are cute?!”

You can’t help but fully laugh this time, nodding vehemently. “Yes, you have cute little hands. Just accept it!”

He still stares at you as if you just damned his entire family and his past generations while you laugh. Yes, his hands are cute. His fingers are short and chubby and you noticed it ever since the moment he sat by the cashier counter.

Then, you see the exact moment his gaze shifts from just playfulness to something many shades darker.

He nonchalantly takes more chips from the can and eats them. After he finishes chewing, he does something that will make your heartbeat rate go 200bpm and beyond.

He licks his fingers.

You saw him do that before. Many times, actually. It was always distracting. But then, it was just an innocent act.

Now, it isn’t.

No one licks their lips that slowly. He didn’t need to stare at you with heavy lidded eyes the way he is now. He didn’t need to make his lips appear even more glossy and attractive and plump like this.

That heat isn’t creeping just the back of your neck now. It’s creeping somewhere lower.

“Do you want to know what I can do with my cute little hands, Y/N?” He asks quietly.

Oh fuck.

He is up to it.

All the sirens inside of your head pop off all at once. Sweet Jesus, he is up to it. He is! He is up to it, he is sitting on your bed, he is gazing at you with half lidded eyes and with those beautiful plump lips and - fuck - his fingers are wet and they’re not the only thing getting wet right here-

You’re going to regret this.

You jump off the bed and get up.

“It’s kinda late, right? I think you should- I think you should go.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched. Must be because your throat feels tight.

Jimin stares at you in silence.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He doesn’t move for a few seconds.

Then, he sighs, disappointed.

“Well, that’s sad. I thought we could train our intimacy.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, as you walk to the door. Slowly - hesitantly - Jimin gets up, picking his bag from over the bed.

He’s still staring at you as he walks to the door, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

You open the door and step aside.

“Drive carefully,” you say when he stops in front of you.

He doesn’t move.

“Are you sure?” He’s pouting again.

“Yes, Jimin.”

“Really really sure?”

“Bye, Jimin.” You widen the door.

Jimin sighs again, his shoulders dropping. Then, he shrugs.

“Bye, pretty.”

He puts his hand on your waist and pulls you closer, making more heat spread from the spot he touched, and leaves a kiss on your cheek. His lips are so damn soft…

“See you tomorrow.”

After nodding and smirking one last time, he finally leaves.

You have to lean on the door after you close it, as if your legs suddenly can’t carry the weight of your body.

You stand there in silence for some moments.

“What the hell was that?!” You breathe out.

This definitely didn’t go in the direction you thought it would. Sure, you felt attracted to Jimin the moment you laid eyes on him, but Gosh - you were one step away from giving in.

Thanks for giving me strength, Lord. That was really cool of you.

“Stop staring at me like that!” You say, aggressively pointing at Tobey. The little fish just glares at you in silence. “You can’t judge me for thinking he’s hot!”

Tobey swims around as if saying sure, bitch.

Although whiny millionaire man mentioned previously is strange, you kind of want to fuck him.

This list is escalating quicker than you expected.

[sorcerersofnyc]

The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 9/9 - The Epilogue

If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.

Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.

While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.

You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife’s friend and his friend’s wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.

Part Nine: You Carry On

Angst, brief allusions to sex, I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian.

Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won’t say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)

First Chapter | Previous

***

You watch him go.

You watch him leave you once again— watch him go off into some dark, unknown future you can never be a part of.

And it hurts.

It hurts to know how much you’ll miss him, hurts to think you'll never see him again.

You take a deep breath (and another and another and another) but the pain only spreads faster as dread closes in all around you.

You feel lost in it, drowned by it, changed by it—but you won’t surrender to it. You’ve walked this road before and you know the way forward. So you take a step, then another, and you turn away from the outside world with a heavy, ragged breath.

The kitchen is far too cheery now. The sun streams inside through the open curtains, and the smell of coffee lingers in the air. Helmut washed the dishes before he left, leaving only his favorite mug behind. It stares at you from its place on the countertop, its dark ceramic gleaming in the light.

You don’t feel your knees buckle or your hands shake, you don’t feel the mangled sob rising up from your chest, you don’t feel the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes and pour down your cheeks like heavy rain.

Your body lurches forward. You reach out to steady yourself but somehow manage to knock the mug over instead. It strikes the title with a sickening clink that echoes through the air.

It chips, but it doesn't shatter. The coffee spills from the mouth and spreads fans out in every direction, staining the tiles on the floor.

Helmut would never know you chipped his favorite mug—but you cry about it anyway.

You cry for the life you could have had together, one where you dumped the stale remnants of his coffee every morning, one where your first kiss wasn’t also the last, one where he held you every day, and you healed your hearts together instead of apart.

You cried because your feelings had no place else to go.

*

Time passes.

*

Time passes.

*

Time passes.

*

You’re alright; you don’t break, or bend, or toil beneath the weight of your grief. The world moves forward, and so do you:

Anežka returns. (“How was the Baron?” She asks you. “We’re the two of you able to… become familiar with one another?” You wish.)

You learn Helmut was taken to the raft. (You order his affairs and have his things sent over to him.)

Sam Wilson becomes Captain America. (He gives a speech that inspires the world to do better.)

The Flag Smashers are killed in a car bombing. (‘No suspects as of yet,’ the report says and your heart tightens at the thought of who might have been responsible.)

You carry on.

*

You receive a package in the mail one day, a thick brochure from The Raft outlining the specifics of a Prison Work Rehabilitation Program.

The front photo was disturbingly picturesque, framing the facility as less of a prison and more like a seaside resort.

'Propaganda,’ you think as you flip through the glossy pages. The program is endorsed by some guy named Thaddeus Ross. You think he was a general or a secretary or something but you aren’t quite sure.

The back of the brochure displays an image of a happy family reuniting and you roll your eyes. Prisoners on the Raft don’t get to go home to their families.

You toss the brochure away without a second thought.

*

A few weeks later, you’re sent flowers after an art show. It’s a beautiful arrangement; twelve thick-stemmed roses wrapped in gold foil.

It adds a classic touch to the modern look of the Visiting Artists’ Office, standing out amongst the dark tables and chairs. But it’s the card that catches your attention; it was left completely blank.

You aren’t sure how you feel about having a secret admirer but you take the flowers home regardless. They’d look nice in a vase near the window, the bright reds mixing with the autumn leaves.

The trip home is short and uneventful and you thank your driver on the way to the door.

You slide your house slippers on and are surprised to see Anežka’s pink one’s by the door as well. You can hear her in the kitchen, opening and closing the doors of the pantry as the air grows warm with the spices of her favorite tea.

“Anežka,” You call out, “I’m home!”

You set the flowers on a side table, barely conscious of the soft footsteps trailing in from the kitchen till Anežka sets her mug down on the coffee table.

“Look what I’ve got. A 'secret admirer’ sent them. Should we put them here or downstairs?” You take an artful picture of the arrangement.

“Neither is a wholly appropriate place.”

You freeze.

Your mind draws blank as it fails to process the words you heard someone other than Anežka speak.

You turn around quickly, knocking the flowers off the table as you do.

“Helmut?” Your voice lowers as a million feelings bubble up inside of you. They threaten to explode.

Helmut is there—right there—dressed in nothing but a bathrobe and his house slippers with a cat-like smile stretched across his handsome features.

He strides forward with confidence, stopping so close you nearly reel back.

“These are special flowers, драга, brought all the way from Ecuador.” He kneels before you, the hem of his robe splitting at the knee to offer a very seductive glimpse of his thigh.

He reaches around you, grabs the fallen bouquet, and sets them gingerly on the table as he stands. “We should place these in your bedroom so you may admire them every night.”

“What’s happening?” You finally manage to ask him, “what’s going on?”

“I’m home,” Helmut teases, speaking as though you failed to notice his soft brown eyes, his damp hair, or the heat that surges between you as he stands close enough to touch, to kiss if you wanted.

He brushes a hand against your cheek.

“Helmut,” you whisper again, but your voice is stern and more controlled this time. “How are you here? You’re supposed to be in Raft.” Despite your words, you lean a little closer, resting both hands against his chest, near the opening of his robe.

“It seems someone of great influence decided my sentence was better served outside the walls of the prison.”

“Like civil service?” You ask, but then you remember the brochure you received in the mail— the propaganda, or so you believed. “Or… Prison Work Rehabilitation?”

“Something like that. There’s a team,” he makes a flippant gesture with his hand before bringing it to rest on the curve of your hip. “Though I needed time to address the matter of my… financial limitations.”

“Limitations?”

“Of course.” He pulls you closer, encircling you in his arms. “The holder of my assets is quite a formidable woman. I thought it best to pay her a visit, to request access to the full extent of my resources. As stubborn as she is, I assume it will take a great many visits.”

“That would be wise,” You nod slowly, a wide smile coming to your face.

“I can’t be with you always, драга,” he tells you, “but I will be here.”

And you don’t quite remember what you promise in reply (or if you promised anything at all) because he kisses you.

Your fingers slide down his chest, brushing past his chest hair and the little charm he wears around his neck.

You don’t know how long you stay there, kissing, and sighing, and melting in the arms of the man you love, but you’re vaguely aware of being walked back against the wall, of the front door opening and closing at some point, and of Anežka pausing by the threshold, groceries in hand.

“Anežka,” He greets her, but his dark and hungry gaze lingers on you, only you.

“Hello, Baron… It’s good to see you.” Her voice waivers, but the sentiment is real. “M-Miss,” she nods in your direction.

“Hi, Anežka.” You’re not quite sure what to say.

“Why don’t you take a few days off?” Helmut suggests, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care of things here.”

“O-of course, Baron—Thank you.” Anežka glances between you one more time before setting the bags down near the door. “Good luck, Miss!” She calls out before leaving.

And as her footsteps grow quiet and hush in the distance, his eyes meet yours and his kiss finds its home upon your lips.

(And later when Helmut comes undone beneath your gaze and the rocking of your hips against his, you bring him home once again.)

And he keeps coming home to you.

***

And so we've reached the end. Thanks so much for reading! I appreciate all the support. This was my first fanfic in many years and I'm glad I could bring it to a close.

The end is a bit of wishful thinking on my part but I wanted to end on a happy note.

I'll probably write one or two bonuschapter that's basically just smut. So if you're 18+ and would like to remain on the taglist (or be added,) just let me know!

Taglist:

@actuallyanita, @fillechatoyante, @viviace, @buckyandlokicanhaveme, @sapphiredreamer26, @robur-bellicum, @apparrio

Previous

[chidoroki]

TPN - Isabella one-shot

Okay, so.. I have so many emotions right now it's not even funny. I don't care how many times I've said this since ch169, but I'm gonna say it again: Isabella is a goddamn QUEEN! I thought the side chapter was going to reflect the light novel like Krone's was last week (it was based on that, correct?), so being able to witness Isabella be that dangerous “iron woman” mastermind again was simply fantastic.

As Krone's extra chapter reminded us, every woman in this mother/sister academy is fighting to survive by any means necessary, so seeing these ladies put on a pretty face one moment to praise Isabella on her promotion only to talk shit behind her back the next minute was of no surprise to me. What did make me a little stunned was that these women are unmistakably the same women who stood so proud and confidently behind Isabella once she revealed her wonderful revenge plan to the rest of the facility back in ch170.

So, what changed? Oh, it's quite simple and a complete joy for me to talk about, so allow me. Isabella had a reputation of never making mistakes, as she always received perfect scores on both written and physical tests, so upon learning that she allowed 15 children to escape is a bit jarring, especially to the other ladies. The quality of her loss was such a huge hit to the farm's profit that they couldn't fathom why she of all people would be chosen to become the next Grandma. They believed it to be unfair, that Isabella must have had some sort advantage after working under Grandma Sarah that could've been kept under wraps. They both got rid of Krone with little to no explanation at all, so some rules must have been tweaked. It's no doubt the ladies saw Isabella as a major threat to their own survival, so they kept a close eye on her and waited for the perfect opportunity.. to create a fake lead to raise suspicion on this flawless woman.

Too bad dearest Grandma was already ten steps ahead of them! HAA! Did they honestly think they could take her down? And Jessica, sweetheart, you even spoke about Isabella's training days a couple of pages ago and how “she calmly got revenge on all the girls when they tried to sabotage her.” That literally just happened again so y'all can't really be surprised by this outcome! She knows that Jessica, Sienna, Scarlet & Matilda, are the current top four choices to become mothers, so it was quite easy for Isabella to determine who would go after her and her new position, if anyone were foolish enough to think about such a thing.

Luckily for them, Isabella has no intentions of killing them off. Since they're all quite intelligent and skilled, she decides to recruit them as allies in her pursuit to destroy Grace Field. Their reaction is similar to the other women we see from ch170. Everyone is apprehensive at first, as going against the farm is nothing but a crazy idea, and yet Isabella assures them that there is no bright future if they remain stuck in the system and obey their rules.

They betray each other to give themselves the best chance at surviving, but it'll be an endless hell if you live out your entire life in fear. So if not for each other, what do these ladies have to live for? Oh, just their children they all chose so hard to forget about.

By now it's no secret that Ray is Isabella's son, but ever since ch170 I couldn't help but wonder if any of those women were the biological moms of any of the other kids we know. You can't tell me the lady with that distinguished nose isn't Nat's mother. I also thought the others could be mothers of Rossi, Yvette, Anna and perhaps Don? Sienna might be Emma's, Matilda to Norman's, Scarlet to Phil's, and Jessica.. I'm not sure honestly? I know it could be any of the kids at GF plant #3, not just the 15 that escaped, but it is fun to think about though and I wasn't expecting to learn that their kids were all at the same house.

It's quite convenient that Isabella had the chance to raise their children actually, because after a few more words of encouragement and the knowledge that their children are indeed still alive, the four ladies agree to support Isabella's plan. Well, once she guarantees to not double-cross them, which is reasonable. It's best for them to have some trust in each other in order to work together. Isabella gives them her word and some much better evidence of her mistake in the form of… aaaaahhh Ray's note.

Bro, believe me when I was completely shooketh upon reading this. It's been a question we all had for so long that I was fairly certain we weren't going to get an answer for it after the series ended. Of course the knowledge of Ray being Isabella's true son was the weakness many of us thought the note contained, but I could've sworn I read somewhere, in some interview or whatever it was, that Shirai said it was something else Ray baited Krone with (right? or am I completely going crazy about this trivia). Anyways, I guess a farewell note is different enough but damn.. what a punch to my heart. Not only did he address it as “dear mother,” but the fact that Isabella kept it this entire time. Like wow.. I'm kinda speechless here. No doubt she still loves her son, just look at how fondly she holds it! If anything, I must know the full contents of said note! Shirai, please! I'm begging!

And if that wasn't enough to make me emotional, Isabella's wish certainly had me tearing up. I hope she knows that her precious children are all happy together in a free world living the best life they possibly can. Honestly, if I had any power to change just one thing in this series, it would to let Isabella live. Having Emma keep her memories is a close second, but I've come to accept that inconvenience after seeing how happy she and all the other kids are post-series. Look at this precious family! I love them! (also I wanna see that full photo on top with her and ayshe darn it!)

Seriously though, her death is still something I'm not over. I literally have not listened to her lullaby since ch177 dropped because I'm scared I'll become a tearful mess. Yes, sacrificing herself to protect Emma and that other girl from the demon was very admirable of her and helped with her redemption, but she didn't have to die from it! (hell, if emma could survive being stabbed then so could isabella, right?? damn plot armor! ) To me, I just feel like it wasn't necessary, especially now after learning what we just did from this extra chapter. Not only did she agree to become Grandma to help the children when they eventually returned to GF in two years, but Isabella also decreased the number of shipments in order to produce higher quality goods to make up for those that escaped, which is exactly what Emma believed would happen once she decided to leave the kids four and under behind. I love how Isabella adopted Emma's ideals and spirit in order to go against the system and rally everyone else up to accomplish the impossible. Personally, I forgave this woman the moment she retrieved the ropes in ch37 so the farm wouldn't know exactly where the children escaped from. She didn't have to die to prove she was a good mother who cared and love her children, because she showed that several times over and over again. She literally did everything in her power to help these kids secure a brighter future while remaining in the shadows.

Yeah, it makes me happy that they did at least take her body to to the human world so they all can continue to pay their respects to her, but aaahhh.. how I wish she were still alive. She suffered so much, she deserves to live in peace with her children and love them all normally. Ray especially!! You can't just formally introduce these four brilliant women to me and then be like “oh yeah, they have GF kids too and now they're free in the human world with them” and not have Isabella with Ray! I'm sure their relationship would've been rocky at first, but I still would've love to see them at least give each other a chance to be a real family. Hmmmm.. this chapter, man.. so not good for my heart, but I loved every bit of it. Once again, rest in peace to the iron woman. What a queen.

[world-of-socks]

Chapter one: Spies are Forever (sorry I had to…*)

*If you don’t know what Spies Are Forever is please look it up. The full thing is on Youtube, you won’t regret it!!

(Got the idea from @steven-universe-au-prompts. I’m still working on concept art and stuff I’ll post that later. Anyways this was super fun to write and I hope you all enjoy this first look into hopefully will be a series that I’ll complete for once lol)

...

“Soldiers!” A pearl roared to the oncoming sea of quartzes and other miscellaneous gems and fusions.

Nobody was paying her any mind, the camp was full of excitement, everyone was talking to each other and conversing about the next move and where they were stationed. The air was so abuzz with different conversations that Yellow Tourmaline heard none of them. Nor did she care. She was here for one purpose and one purpose alone, and that right now, was to hear that renegade pearl speak.

“SOLDIERS!” she roared again.

A few looked up and then went back to chatting.

The pearl looked towards everyone’s leader, the rose quartz, who was speaking with a fusion, and then turned towards the crowd once more, “SHUT! UP!!”

Everyone turned to face her, and ceased their conversations. Yellow watched the pearl sigh, and then continue,

“We all appreciate you being here, your service is greatly needed in our fight to win back this wonderful planet. Though, we will need to have some form of organization in our camps, you will now hear a word from my general and yours: ROSE QUARTZ!”

The crowd erupted into applause and roars and cheers. These gems loved this Quartz, loved her more than any gem Yellow Tourmaline had ever seen. The Rose Quartz dismissed the applause, humbly, and then began to speak.

“You wonderful gems, you’ve worked so hard your entire life to please someone who doesn’t care about you, or your well-being. You’ve slaved away for the whims of a dictator who thinks you are a pile of sediment, unworthy. Those days are over. When you are under my command you are free to be whoever you want, and to fuse with whoever you want!”

There was another planet shaking roar of applause, Yellow just stood there, dumbfounded, she didn’t understand. The Rose quartz held up her hand to silence them once more.

“Though I would like to make one thing clear. There will still have to be a level of organization in my camps! You will be organized by your station, you won’t be shattered if you don’t listen, but if we want to do this properly, it would be preferred if you would do as I tell you. Though, all ideas are welcome! Pearl will continue from here.”

She then stepped away and resumed talking to the fusion, her pearl then started commanding everyone on where to go.

“The front lines will be stationed in the first two barracks, the blacksmiths will be stationed…..” her voice seemed to fade away.

After the meeting, Yellow knew exactly where she was to go, she was a general on the front lines (she had perfected the basic general appointment test) and would be staying with other generals in the barracks. She hadn’t met any of them yet, and wasn’t thrilled about staying a week with everyone else, but she knew she had to.

She pushed back the fabric of the tent and stepped in timidly, inside was a table with chairs and a few gems gathered around it, a few cots (she only recently learned what those were), and a weapons rack. As she walked in a few of the gems looked up at her, a few looked a little wary, but the others appeared friendly.

“Heya, we got a new one ‘ere!” exclaimed an Ametrine.

She got up from her table where the rest of the generals were huddled over a map, and approached her. Yellow backed up slightly, she wasn’t used to being interacted with in such a way.

“Ey, I’m not gonna ‘urt ya.” Ametrine gave her a pat on the shoulder, “I’m Ametrine, by the way, but you can call me Ame, everyone does.”

Ame looked her up and down to take her in, Yellow watched the evaluation process go on in her head, “Let’s see ‘ere, a newby most likely from, what, Yellow’s court?”

Yellow stiffened up, not used to the informal addressing of the name, “Yes.”

“Ah! rough, mate. I was too. She’s a bit cold, ain't she? Kinda emotionless, yeah?” Ame shook her head, hands in her pockets,“Yeah, I’m real glad I left when I did. I started feelin’ real low, always scared of gettin’ shattered, y’know? I’m feelin’ much betta’ under Rose’s command, though, no need to worry ‘bout little ol’ me.”

Yellow just gave a weak laugh.

“Ya don’t talk much do ya?” Ame remarked, “What’s ya name anyway?”

She straightened up, “I’m Yellow Tourmaline.”

“Do ya go by anythin’ shorter?”

“No.” she retorted simply.

“Well that’ll have to change.” Ame thought for a moment, “I’m sure durin’ trainin’ tomorrow a betta’ name will reveal itself.”

There was an awkward silence yet again, Yellow wasn’t very good at interacting like this.

“Lemme’ introduce ya to the team!” Ame said with fake or real enthusiasm, Yellow couldn’t tell.

“This is Black Opal, but we call her Bo. She don’t say much either, but she’s a great archer and an even betta’ general. Her surprise attacks are some of the best and smartest in the biz!” Ame pointed to a tall and darkly colored gem towards the left of the table, she looked up and simply nodded in greeting.

“Over there’s Emerald, but we just call her Bear. She got the name cuz’ we went on a scoutin’ mission, and ran across an earth creature, Rose said it's called a bear, and she got chased by that thing for hours! Once she got fed up though she stopped in her tracks and screamed in its face and scared it off into the woods! She’s more a bear than it was!” The Emerald rolled her eyes, she must’ve been used to the anecdote.

“There’s old Peach Sapphire over there, Bismuth, and oh that there’s Cat’s Eye, don’t mess with them, they’re a tricky one. I could tell ya a million stories about all these guys.” Ame laughed, but quickly stopped when she saw the unamused look on Yellow’s face, “Ah, but, I won’t… I won’t.”

Yellow strode across the room to the map on the table, and looked at it for a moment.

“Judging our strategies, are you?” Peach Sapphire retorted to Yellow’s glance at the map.

“Wha-... no.” Yellow lied.

“Ah well you were going to.” she mused.

“I thought only Blue Sapphire’s could predict the future.”she grumbled, realizing she had been caught.

“Hm, yes, and that’s where you're wrong. Blue Sapphires can predict the future more accurately than I, but no, they aren’t the only ones.” She sighed, “And if you’re worried that we won’t succeed without good incite on the future we have a rare Blue Sapphire on our team. She’s fused with Ruby, they go by Garnet by the way, she’s Rose’s lefthand gem.”

Yellow cringed slightly at the mention of fusion, “The Pearl is the right hand?” she clarified.

“Yes.” Peach sighed and looked back at the map, “Newcomers aren’t permitted to be strategists until they go through a week of training. Our apologies, but this war has been long and hard, I’ve lost friends, loved ones, excuse me if I don’t trust you right away.”

“I… see.” the room was silent, a distant grief hung in the air.

“I assume you aren’t one to sleep are you?” Emerald asked, breaking the emptiness, “The newbys usually aren’t.”

“No, I don’t sleep.” she replied.

“That’ll change!” Ame called from where she lay on her cot, her cap over her eyes.

A few of the other generals snickered.

“Well even if you don’t sleep I recommend resting on the cots until morning.” Emerald added kindly.

“Is there really nothing else I can assist with?” she asked, desperate, not loving the idea of being left alone with her thoughts, surrounded by strange gems.

“Not until we get a chore list, a training schedule, or a command.” Emerald replied.

“Or until Jasper comes in here and breaks something.” Peach muttered.

Ame laughed from her cot, even Black Opal snickered slightly.

Yellow sat in the cot the second closest to the tent opening. She lay down on her back stiffly, and closed her eyes, but when nothing changed she sat up and looked around. She hated the feeling of not being in charge, but she knew it was only going to have to be for a week.

After an hour or so of sifting through the pamphlets for newcomers, she was startled by a loud sound. The tent ripped open and a giant Jasper burst through with a terrified look on its face. Yellow jumped to her feet.

The Jasper ran over to where Ame lay presumably asleep and shook her violently.

“Ame! Ame!!” she cried, “You gotta wake up! Please wake up!”

“Wha-... Jazz what’s,” she yawned, “What’s goin’ on ya loon.”

“I was just-...I was just!” she panted and stuttered, “I was just-... practicing my acting! Free acting lessons with Jazz as soon as the sun goes down!”

“Nobody needs ya classes Jazz, not in this war. Besides no non-sleepin newby would ever join.” Ame muttered readjusting her cap.

Jasper stamped her foot, “Yeah, but MORALE! Ya know?” she turned excitedly to Yellow who felt more uncomfortable than ever before, “Hey, would you wanna join?”

“Uh… no.” She answered, Jazz frowned, “Uh I mean- no, not really.” she stuttered.

“Dang,” Jazz mused, “This one IS new. Welp, they're always open if ya ever change your mind.”

Jazz crashed onto an empty spot on the floor which had blankets, that were probably chipped in from the other generals, for her to lay on. Yellow hadn’t noticed the broken cot pieces before.

Yellow resumed her sitting position at the end of the makeshift bed and continued looking through the pamphlet, more to look busy, she had already read the entire thing. After an hour or so the other generals retired, save for Cat’s eye who, without a word, glided to the tent entrance and stood guard.

Once she determined it wouldn’t be awkward to stop reading, she layed back down, this time on her side. She stared at the dirty tent fabric.

It would just be for a week, then she could transform back into her usual form, get into her ship, and drive home with whatever plans she could find. Nobody would know, not even the others on homeworld. She could finally end this fight once and for all.

[alegacyofmikalsons]

The Act of Living Chp.1: Back in the Crescent City

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’ve been lurking on my main Tumblr @adrianadmirer in the Originals and Legacies tags for several months now since I got into these shows (I finally got Netflix and was able to watch) and I’ve been working on this story for a while as well. I’ve had a version of this first chapter on Wattpad for months and now it’s finally at a place where I’m happy with it enough to share on here as well. Please feel free to leave comments, I want to know what you think as the story progresses and if there are things I can improve on. This is my first time writing for anything TVD/Originals/Legacies and I'm relatively new to these shows so, any feedback will be much appreciated!

Rating: PG-13

Series summary: Klaus and Elijah were supposed to die, but fate in the form of new friends Serafina Hewitt and her sister Stevie intervened. A year later Stevie is dead and Sera returns to New Orleans to see her friends and investigate her suspicions about what happened. When it's confirmed that a powerful hunter group is responsible, she realizes a much bigger threat is coming, one that threatens all of New Orleans. As they race to stop it, she gets more than she bargained for, finding the truth about who she is and a growing attachment towards a certain Mikalson.  Most importantly, they all get answers to the biggest riddle of all: what the act of living really means.

Visiting New Orleans should be a good thing, the place I'm from and still consider home despite having to leave it at sixteen. It's a lively place with the warmest people where even death is celebrated with a party. But currently, it reminds me of everything I've lost. Walking through the familiar streets, I find myself consumed with guilt and sorrow from the latest person to be taken from me. 

My sister. Not by blood since our parents chose to adopt me five years before Stevie was born. But, that little detail didn't matter. It still feels lonely, a part of me gone forever.

The moment I found out, only several hours ago replays in my mind for the hundredth time.

"You need to come down here," Rebekah Mikalson exclaimed.

Stevie and I met her and the rest of her family a few years ago when I helped my sister move back there and we slowly became closer friends through the handful of trips I've made since including the last one barely a year ago where a vision of mine and my blood kept them together.

The hoarseness in her tone and the faint sniffling grabbed my attention, a cold shiver running down my spine. 

This was no ordinary phone call among long-distance friends. 

"Why? Is something wrong?"

There was a moment of silence as she struggled to compose herself. "It's Stevie. She's...she's..."

The mention of my sister sent my heart thumping hard against my chest. No, I thought. It couldn't be. As painful silence ticked by, I became irritated from impatience as a sinking, awful sensation of dread swirled inside my gut. 

"Rebekah, just say it." 

Even though I had a feeling of what was coming, I had to hear it out loud. 

"She's dead Sera!"

There they were. I had braced for them yet, they still took the air out of my lungs. 

"What?" 

"She was killed last night outside of a bar just outside the Quarter. I just found out myself."

The truth finally hit fully, shattering the numbed shock. 

Gasping, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor, letting a mix between a scream and a wail. My worst fears had come true. I thought that she'd be safe here, away from me and all the dangers and problems I carried just for merely existing. This was New Orleans, home of everything that goes bump in the night or is out of the realm of normal humanity. But, it didn't matter. The people close to me always left, one way or another. 

As the sobs subsided, I shook my head, staring out at the drizzle that constituted a typical Oregon morning. I already had a good idea of who might be responsible. The same people who took the rest of my tiny, adopted family from me. All because I had a stubborn ability to survive what others couldn't. But, I needed details to be sure. To see if they left anything behind. If my suspicions were correct, they definitely would. 

Putting the phone on speaker, I set it down on the floor next to me. "What happened? Do you know?"

"Not really," she replied. "Her body was discovered a few hours ago, just as the sun was coming up. There's some bruising from a struggle of some kind and then a f-fatal cut across her throat. They're saying it was probably a random incident but..."

"You don't think so." 

My heart lept into my throat. The description matched those of other victims I had seen both in person and in newspaper descriptions. 

"No. You know as well as I do she...she would've been able to defend herself it was. No one will believe me though, not even my siblings. They all think I'm being unrealistic, and I can't blame them."

As she continued to rant about how her brothers never took her seriously I leaned my head against the kitchen cabinet and drowned her out. I already knew they didn't. Rebekah was known for thinking with her heart and not her head. But, she was just as smart and calculating as her more well-known siblings. Something they often forgot until it came out abruptly. 

"The only thing that looks weird is this...symbol." The statement brought my attention back, picking it up with my sensitive hearing. "On the side of her neck. Maybe you know what it is?"

My breath caught. A symbol was the exact thing I was searching for. 

"Describe it to me."

"It's some circle with a...lion in the middle. And some language that I can't make out. Greek I think. Why?"

It matched the symbol of the group I had in mind perfectly. It couldn't be a coincidence. Their explicit threats against her--verbal and written, the way she was killed. They had to be responsible. And if they were in New Orleans, I doubted they would be leaving anytime soon. It was too big of a target to pass up--the biggest place they've appeared so far. If the results were anything like they've committed here, hundreds would be dead. Supernatural and regular human alike. 

"Because, it tells me exactly who killed her," I murmured.

After a moment of deliberation, I sprang to life again and rushed over to where my laptop was sitting. Suddenly, New Orleans was the place I wanted, no needed to be. I missed my old home and seeing the dysfunctional family I called friends in person. But, it was more than that. I felt a sense of obligation to protect the city. And I couldn't quite do that from a phone call or video chat. 

"Listen, I'll be on the earliest flight out I can manage," I told her, my fingers dancing on the keys. Finding one that worked, though it was a bit pricey, I became resolved in my decision to leave. Just like last time, everything screamed that this was worth it."

I heard her gasp. "You're coming here? I thought you were busy"

"I am." It was an exhaled response. "But, suddenly I have new priorities. You guys have been wanting me to visit for a while anyway. Make sure no one touches a thing on her body or tries to move it until I've had a look. I don't care what you or your siblings have to do."

"Does that mean you think I'm right?"

"Yeah, Rebekah, I do. I'll be there by late afternoon, hopefully, earlier than that." 

After an hour's drive to Portland, a cross country flight and renting an expensive taxi into the city, I've finally made it with still plenty of the day left.  Pulling out my phone, I look at the address Rebekah sent and sigh.

At least I have one thing to distract me. I briefly close my eyes and memories swirl in from the people on the street, too many for my mind to focus on one for long. Some are happy, others not so much. All contain the private thoughts and feelings I have no business experiencing. But, I can't control it, much like the other abilities I inherited from faceless people. The only thing I know about what I am comes from my blood. Closer to black than red. Able to sustain me yet kill everything else.

Demon. 

I don't know what type or how saturated it is or even what side it’s from. There are too many in the books I've read to narrow it down to one and I’ve never met my birth parents. I only know what powers it gives me and that it comes with a lot of destruction, both internal and external.

I also know that my visions--both of the past and the future--aren't normal for any kind of demon. This and other strange powers I’ve discovered mean the blood of something else flows in my veins as well. But, it's been nearly thirty years and I've yet to figure out what.

Blinking open, I resume my steps and shake my head, putting away everything I've seen. I can't forget it, or any information really but, I have ways to pretend and set them aside.

Soon, the bar I'm looking for, Rousseau's, is in front of me and I pause. I know seeing Stevie's body is going to be hard but, if I don't manage my emotions, it won't be pretty. This usually helps.

After a minute, I step around the brick building, finding Rebekah with her platinum blonde hair crouched over a covered white sheet. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I close the gap between us until she looks up. 

"You're here," she whispers, springing up to engulf me in a hug. "Thank god."

She squeezes me so tight that I struggle to catch my breath, coughing out a short reply. "I've missed you too."

Letting me go, she stands there silently, with a slightly apologetic look before her gaze drifts to the concealed figure next to us. My sister. The crying has stopped for now, but the tears are still fresh. The redness around her eyes and frown point to how she's really feeling which is anything but fine. 

I look around and quickly realize that we're alone. I expected to see at least one of her siblings with her.

"Where are...?" I ask.

"It's just me. Klaus left soon after I got here. He did chase everyone off, just like you asked."

I can't help the snicker that comes up. "I don't need to know the details about how that went."

"Actually, there was no actual blood spilled this time, just the threat of it," she comments.

I don't particularly care or judge him for his impulsive acts of violence since I've succumbed to it countless times. But, it's not the healthiest form of anger management or dealing with emotions so, I'm glad about this small piece of info. 

"So he is taking my advice then," I tell her.

She nods after a minute. "Sometimes. I doubt he could ever stop completely." Then, her smile falters, and she clears her throat. "Anyway, Elijah's been home figuring out arrangements. It looks like we’ll be able to have the funeral tonight. That is unless you want to take her back to Mirebrook. He wanted to make sure you had the final say."

I haven't even thought about that. Most of my family's ancestors are entombed here, including our grandparents. My parents are the only exception, instead of being buried in the little cemetery in Mirebrook. But, I've been planning on moving them down here too eventually. Even from the start, they promised me our move wasn't going to be permanent. New Orleans is where we truly belong. That's why Stevie decided to return when she was old enough. So, while I appreciate having the choice, it only takes a minute standing here to decide.

"No, this is fine. She's a Hewitt...not just in name like me but by blood. She belongs here."

She nods once more as we continue to stand there silently for a moment. We both know what I came here for. Answers. I need to be sure but at the same time, neither of us wants to see her like this. 

Eventually, I gesture to my sister on the ground, mustering up enough emotional strength. "Can I?"

She blankly looks at me before blinking with a start. "Oh...um, of course. Sorry, I'm a bit out of it right now."

I know exactly how she feels. She bends down once more and delicately grabs ahold of the white tarp before meeting my gaze. At my nod, she pulls it back to reveal Stevie's lifeless stare. It's a punch to the gut seeing her skin already a pale gray from decay and a gasp catches in my throat. 

"Stevie..." Reaching down, I touch her ever so slightly, the coldness another shock to the system. 

I bite down on my lip hard as I feel the energy within me stir and a sudden breeze tickles the back is my neck from it. Sometimes it gets agitated when my emotions run high. I hesitate and wait for everything inside to calm. 

Breathe deeply. Quiet. I'll be fine. 

The mantra is one I've memorized from when my mother's soft voice repeated it as a little kid to stop my destructive blowups. After a few minutes, I'm comfortable enough to continue. I have to know if they're responsible.  

I turn to Rebekah. "Where did you...see the symbol?"

Swallowing, she mumbles, "Right side of her neck. By her ear."

Brushing her hair back I quickly find it. A circular symbol in black ink stands out against her fair complexion, the lion's face and handwriting staring up at me. Everything seems to stop as a chill of fear and extreme anguish runs up my spine. 

"No." 

"Sera?" Rebekah asks, noticing my reaction.

I ignore her as angry tears slip down my cheeks. 

Nemean found her. In the one place I didn't want them to touch. And I know them well enough to realize they aren't leaving anytime soon. The city is a perfect location for the attacks that terrorized Mirebrook every couple of years.

"I'm sorry Stevie. This is all my fault."

They went out of their way to hunt her, just like our parents and my friends. Because they chose to raise and love me. Suddenly, the power arouses inside once more and the wind picks up around us. I'm too volatile, if I stick around, no amount of controlled breathing will matter. I grab the tarp from Rebekah and quickly covered my sister once more. 

"Sera, what's wrong?"

Standing, I simply shake my head, unable to get any words out as I fold my arms around my heaving chest. I spin around and hurry out of the alleyway. Stopping a few feet away, I close my eyes and take more deep breaths until I steady myself.

"Sera, what the hell?" Rebekah exclaims and I open my eyes to see her frowning at me.

Seeing her concerned expression, I sigh. "Sorry I just needed to get out of there."

"Does that mean you know what that symbol is?" Her brows furrow in confusion.

"You don't?" My pitch rises a couple octaves. 

Surely they would've heard of such a notorious group of hunters by now. 

But, she shakes her head adamantly. "No, I've never seen it before in my life. I did take a picture of it though. Why?"

"Because,” I reply. “It belongs to her killers. The Nemean brotherhood." 

Her eyebrows lift off her forehead. "So this was on purpose then."

"Yes, by hunters called the Nemean Brotherhood. I don't think they’re done either. In fact, I imagine they've just gotten started."

"You think something else will happen," she murmurs catching on immediately. "What exactly? More hunts?"

I hesitate, folding my arms tightly. Knowing that they could be here, maybe even watching me I can't help feeling a bit paranoid.

"Yes and no," I finally tell her. "They don't just hunt Rebekah. They massacre.” 

This only makes her more confused. “What does that even mean?” 

Sighing, I finally confess what I’ve been suspecting since the phone call this morning. “Everyone in the quarter is in danger. Maybe even the entire city."

....

[krycss]

Actions Speak Louder Than Words | Jacob Seed x f!Deputy

Chapter 14

[Read on AO3]

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Guess who's alive! It's me!

It took so long to get this out. Just trying to find time between work and sleep where I had not only the motivation, but also the energy and the creativity to write was so hard. But, just writing a little bit each day helped out. Even just one word.

I appreciate your guys' patience so much! <3

Packing was slow. Every few minutes Jacob or Cat would stop what they were doing and just give each other a sad smile or a quick peck. Their short time of peace and normalcy was up, and while neither said it out loud, they both knew that they didn’t really want to go back. Even if it was important. Even if the fate of Joseph’s followers depended on Jacob returning. Eventually their bags were full, the cabin was cleaned, and there was nothing left to do but get in the truck.

Jacob took one last, big breath before locking the door behind them.

“Ready?” He spoke in almost a whisper, despite there being no one else around.

“As I’ll ever be.” Cat smiled up at him, squeezing his hand that was twined with her own.

The truck ride back was equally quiet, but a different kind of quiet. Both had accepted that things were going back to how they were. There was no changing that. Now they just had to collect themselves before they arrived back at the Veteran’s Center. Gone was Jacob being able to actually sleep in and get some much needed rest. His dark circles had started to lighten during their trip but Cat knew they’d be back almost as soon as he got back to work. Cat would miss the solitude. She liked to think she’d had enough time to adjust to being around people, but her anxiety definitely was rearing its head again as they neared the Veteran’s Center. She had gotten comfortable not having to look over her shoulder. She didn’t have to worry about not being able to speak properly because Jacob had been there. Now she knew they’d have to be apart again and her self-confidence plummeted, knowing she’d be going back to her stutter once more.

As if sensing where her mind was going, Jacob grabbed her hand and lifted it to his lips.

She smiled at her husband, grateful for his unending support.

Too soon for her liking, they came around the bend leading towards the large gates of St. Francis.

The two guards readied their weapons at the approaching vehicle, only relaxing when they realized who it was. As they waited for the gates to open, one of the guards took a step towards Jacob’s open window.

“Sir. Nice to have you back.” He nodded quickly.

Jacob grunted, not even gracing him with attention.

The guard turned his gaze to Cat.

“You too, ma’am.”

Cat gave him a quick smile before turning her gaze back to the front. It was weird being addressed this way now. As an equal somehow. Sure, everyone knew that she was Jacob’s before they were married, but even then she was rarely acknowledged unless absolutely necessary.

Now she had to get used to that.

By the time they had managed to make it back to Jacob’s office they had already picked up the pile of reports from their time away. The Chosen that Jacob had replaced Pratt with, a stocky man named Isaac, followed them up to their room. He had long, dark, brown hair that was tied back away from his face. He wore the typical Chosen gear, minus the face mask, and had the Eden’s Gate cross painted across his left eye.

“No major incidents while you away, sir.” Isaac stood at attention near the door once Jacob was seated at his desk.

Cat went ahead and unpacked their things while also listening in.

“Any minor ones, then?” Jacob muttered while reading over the reports in his hand.

“Just the usual skirmishes with the Sinners. It appears the deputy that Brother John held captive, Hudson, has taken up the mantle of leading the attacks in the absence of you…” Isaac glanced up, making brief eye-contact with Cat. “Sister Catherine.”

Cat winced slightly at the title and her full name.

“Either ma’am, or Cat.” Jacob spoke. “If you must address her.”

Isaac nodded quickly.

“They’ve managed to take back some territory in Sister Faith’s region but that’s being taken care of as we speak.”

“Understood.” Jacob, sighed. “Anything else?”

“Nothing serious. We’ll get back to the normal schedule, sir.”

“If that’s all, dismissed.” Jacob called out.

When Isaac left the room Cat walked over to Jacob, leaning over him and kissing his cheek.

“Not even a moment’s rest, hm?”

Jacob huffed under his breath. “Not around here.”

One month passed.

It didn’t take long for Cat to return to her team and get back to work on the beacons. Her team was happy to have her back, bringing her up to date on all the gossip she missed out on during her honeymoon. Jacob still didn’t like having his wife out there, but she wasn’t going to be stopped. It was better than stewing in the Veteran’s Center all day like he tended to do. Everything was going smoothly until Isaac returned to Jacob’s room one evening.

“Everything good, soldier?” Jacob barely glanced up from his desk.

“Nothing to worry about, sir. Just that a letter arrived for you, ma’am.”

Cat perked up from her seat on their bed – Jacob finally replaced his cot with an actual double bed. She placed the book she was reading on the dresser before walking over. Isaac unfolded the envelope from his pocket before handing it to her. Cat glanced down at the envelope and smiled to herself before nodding to Isaac in thanks, earning one back.

“If that’s all?” Jacob eyed the man who was still standing too close to his wife for his liking.

Isaac confirmed and quickly made his exit.

“Who’s it from?” Jacob leaned back in his chair.

“Kim.”

“Rye?”

Cat nodded.

“She’s the only one who knows about…what actually happened to me.  Why I came to you after all that. Everyone in the Valley knows about our marriage now. So, I don’t have to imagine what this is about.”

Cat maneuvered her way onto Jacob’s lap, despite his very light-hearted protests about having to finish his reports. She opened the letter with shaky hands.

“Dear, Cat.

I hope this letter reaches you. Wasn’t sure how to address it – not like the post office is really running around here though. And it was hard enough convincing Nick to even consider taking it to someone who might be able to get it to where it needed to go.  Still, I heard the big news. Congrats on the marriage. Probably not hearing a lot of that from our side of things, if at all. I heard what happened from Hudson when she and the others returned. They might not understand, but you know I do. And I don’t fault you. Sure, I don’t quite get it, but that’s not for me to get. Anyways, don’t want to make this long, just wanted to let you know that we, too, had a change in the family. Finally had that baby of ours! It’s a girl! I’ll try and get you that money Nick owes you from your guys’ bet. Her name is Carmina and she’s a handful, let me tell you. But I was hoping you might be able to find that out on your own. Nick doesn’t know, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You know my number to get in contact with me. I just really want you to meet her. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future but I still value you as a friend and I hope it’s returned. Anyways, let me know! I look forward to hearing from you.

Your friend,

Kim Rye & her adorable daughter Carmina.”

Cat took a shaky breath in as she finished reading the letter aloud.

“Seems like a trap to me.” Jacob raised one brow at her.

“Of course you’d think so. I…I really do want to see her. And the baby.” Cat leaned back, her side to his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“You’re not going anywhere that close to Fall’s End alone.”

“Maybe…”Cat chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe I could convince her to let someone come with me?”

Jacob gave a quick, sarcastic laugh.

“Worth a shot?”

“…Up to you, just know that I don’t like it, darlin’.”

“I know, hon.” Cat gently patted his cheek as she leaned over to bring his desk phone closer.

The phone call was a little easier to navigate than talking in person. Granted, Jacob was right there which helped tremendously. Kim was excited to actually be able to talk to Cat since she wasn’t able to last time. “Let’s me know things are going good for you.” She had said. Cat had explained that Jacob wasn’t exactly keen on letting her go out there alone – or at least without protection – due to the circumstances.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me visiting since we’re…t-technically on opposite sides?”

“Cat, we were friends first before all this happened. I know why you did the things you did, and I understand. Do I understand on a philosophical level? Maybe not. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is that I want my friend to meet my new baby if she can.”

Cat looked back at Jacob. She knew he could hear Kim based on his face.

“I mean, I’d l-love to. You know this. But, like I said, Jacob isn’t exactly comfortable with it and if I’m b-being honest, I’m more comfortable with him around. If there’s any way…c-could he come along?”

Jacob’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Kim was silent on the other end but Cat could hear her walking around. Cat held the phone to her shoulder.

“Sorry, probably should have brought that up first.”

Jacob shrugged. “Probably. But, chances are now she’s gonna say no because of that. I’m not exactly winning any popularity contests. While I might not like the idea, I don’t necessarily want to keep you from your friend. Even if they’re associated with the enemy. Not that much of an asshole.”

“Don’t tell that to your followers.” Cat chuckled, rolling her eyes. “They’ll think you’ve gone soft.”

“Only for you.”

They smiled at one another before Kim called out from the phone once more.

“Tell you what.” Kim’s voice was hesitant on the other end. “He can come, but only if he stays in the truck and you both come unarmed.”

Cat’s eyes widened.

“Y-you sure?”

“Not really. But I trust you, and after hearing him say he doesn’t want to keep you locked away, I’m willing to throw an olive branch just so I can see you.”

Cat blushed, knowing that Kim heard all that. Jacob just sighed.

“If that’s doable for you two, then let me know and I can arrange a date that Nick won’t be home. Would rather not have him shoot you on sight.”

“Hold on, Kim.” Cat turned back to Jacob. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s dangerous, going out with no weapons, for one. Two, could be a trap, but that’s just my brain talking. If it’s something you really want, I’m willing to…compromise.”

“Like what?”

“I want you to have a weapon at least. Should anything go down – on the way there or on arrival – I at least want one of us to have a means of defense. Hell, you can leave it in the truck or hand it over if that makes her more comfortable. But I’m not leaving this base without a weapon and putting you in harm’s way.”

“That’s fine with me, Seed.” Kim’s voice piped up once more. “I don’t want to see her harmed any more than you do.”

“Questionable.” Jacob mumbled.

Cat lightly swatted his shoulder. “Be nice.”

She could hear Kim chuckle on the other end.

“How does next Saturday work for you? Nick and the others are going to be meeting up that day so he should out for most of the day.”

Cat raised a brow towards her husband. He just shrugged, nodding slightly.

“Works for us. I r-really appreciate this, Kim.”

“Not a problem. I’ve missed you. See you soon!”

“See you!”

Cat placed the phone back on the receiver and melted into Jacob’s chest. He immediately started rubbing his hand up and down her arm.

“This ought to be interesting.” He mused.

“Oh, very.”

Saturday came far too quickly for Cat’s liking. While she was excited at the prospect of seeing Kim again, this was still a risky move. She glanced down at the pistol strapped to her thigh. Should anything happen while they were on the road that’s all they had for protection. Granted, Jacob could do some major damage with just a pistol, but still, not the best odds in an ambush. Cat leaned her head against the truck window, letting the vibrations cover her thoughts.

They had opted for a plain truck, all black, and changed into more “casual” wear. Anything to keep attention off of themselves. Cat had her hair up in a pony-tail and was wearing a thin, black long sleeve shirt to hide her sins, some regular blue, skinny jeans, her combat boots, and a black ball cap with her hair pulled through the back. Jacob ditched his signature jacket – which took a lot of convincing from Cat – and opted for just wearing one of his white undershirts, with his normal jeans, and boots. He also was sporting a black ball cap to hide his hair and face.

“We’re almost there. You okay?” Jacob glanced over at Cat.

“I think so. Nervous, mostly.”

“Eh, it’s just a baby. They’re not too scary.” Jacob grinned, laughing when Cat stuck her tongue out at him.

They pulled under the “Rye and Son’s” sign to which Cat smiled lovingly at. Jacob parked the truck in front of the house, far enough away to make Kim comfortable, but close enough to be there if things went wrong. Cat could see Kim’s outline behind the front window before she disappeared to the door.

Cat took a deep breath.

“I’ll be right here.” Jacob reminded her.

Cat leaned over, kissing him gently. He chuckled when their hats bumped against one another.

“Go on.”

Cat nodded before turning back to open her door. Kim was now standing outside the front door with a bundle in her arms. Cat made a show of removing her pistol and placing it on the roof of the truck and kept her hands visible as she walked to meet Kim halfway. Her hands were twitching with the urge to fidget.

“You look good.” Kim smiled hesitantly.

Cat smiled back. “T-t-thanks.”

She crossed her arms, squeezing her sides to distract herself from her stutter.

Kim’s eyes darted behind her, to which Cat turned to follow. She hadn’t heard him open the door but Jacob was now leaning against the hood of the truck.

“He treating you right?”

Cat nodded, smiling softly. “P-perfectly.”

“Good. That’s good.” Kim sighed. “I was worried at first, when I heard the news. Everyone was. I’ve kept your secret though, haven’t told anyone. Didn’t know if you’d want me to or not. It reminded me of why you did it and I think that’s what made it easier for me to accept it.”

Cat smiled sadly at her friend, thankful for her understanding at least.

“So w-who’s this?” Cat turned her attention to the bundle in Kim’s arm.

The one-month old was sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms, her thumb in her mouth.

“This beauty right here is Carmina.” Kim moved closer, easing her arms forward to meet Cat’s. “She’s a hard sleeper so don’t worry about her waking any time soon.”

Cat nodded as she was handed Carmina. She bounced her lightly, a smile already breaking out onto her face. She hadn’t held many babies before this, but it would seem instinct was kicking in. It felt natural. Cat’s eyes roamed over the baby’s face, admiring the small tufts of dark hair on the top of her head. Kim was leaning over, cooing lightly.

“It was a hell of a delivery. Almost didn’t think we’d make it to the hospital! You wouldn’t believe the things that happened on the way there. It was ridiculous.”

Cat chuckled lightly, trying not to jostle Carmina.

“Y-you’ll have to t-tell me about it sometime.” She whispered.

Cat began lightly swaying. She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly found herself emotional. All the talk of the future a month ago during her honeymoon suddenly reared its ugly head in her mind. Reminding her of what she and Jacob might never have. Carmina started to become a blur in her vision but she didn’t stop smiling.

“You okay?” Kim placed a hand one her back.

Cat nodded and glanced back over at Jacob. His hat was shadowing his eyes but Cat swore his eyes were glassy before he turned away. This was too much for both of them it would seem.

They might not have been there long at all, only a few minutes, but it was enough for now.

“We should p-probably go.”

“So soon?”

Cat sniffled. “I know. I’m s-sorry. Things are…”

Kim nodded in understanding. “I think I get it.”

They traded Carmina and Kim wrapped her free arm around Cat’s shoulders.

“You take care of yourself alright? I don’t know if or when we’ll see each other again, but I don’t know that it will be on good ground again. You know?”

Cat nodded.

“Alright. Now get going before your husband gets too antsy.”

They traded quick smiles before parting ways. Cat blinked back the rest of her tears, putting herself back together. Jacob had already gotten back into the driver’s seat. Cat made sure to grab her pistol again before she joined him in the truck.

No words were said but once she was buckled in, Jacob started the long drive back to the Veteran’s Center.

They walked back to their room in silence. Jacob had his arm around Cat’s shoulder as they walked. Whether to comfort her or himself, Cat wasn’t sure. When they finally reached their room they both changed into more comfortable clothes before moving to the bed. Jacob laid down first and pulled Cat on top of him. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I had heard of baby fever. Didn’t know it would hit this hard.” Cat mumbled.

Jacob hummed in agreement.

“You okay?” Cat glanced up at his face. He was still looking a little teary-eyed.

Jacob heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure. I think I was…taken aback, I suppose. Seeing you with a baby…? Awakened something in me I guess. I know I want that with you. But seeing it, knowing that it’s too dangerous for that right now? It was like waking from a perfect dream because some asshole dropped cold water on your head.”

Cat smiled sadly. “I get it. That’s how it was for me. It was like, we had talked about it, and that was enough for me. But then to actually hold her, it was like everything that we talked about went out the window. As if my brain was going ‘This is right, even if you aren’t ready.’ If that makes sense.”

“Yeah. Good ol’ basic animal instincts kicking into gear. We’re a pair, time to mate.”

Cat laughed lightly to herself. Of course he’d equate it in those terms.

“Hopefully soon.” He mused. “When the Project accomplishes our goals and it’s safe to have them. Maybe.”

“’Them’, huh? You wanting more than one?”

Cat moved up to lay next to Jacob instead, bringing herself even with his face.

“Of course. A whole pack of them.” His teasing wink got a laugh out of Cat.

“Oh really? And I’m birthing this entire pack, am I? Doesn’t seem like a fun time to me!”

They both laughed at that until Jacob kissed her forehead.

“I think at most three. There’s a part of me that wants the chance to make up for what my brothers and I went through. I want to be the father we never had.”

Cat rested her head on Jacob’s shoulder, her eyes getting heavy from the emotional afternoon.

“I think three would be lovely.”

“Someday.” He promised.

“Someday.”

Plans were underway two weeks later. New reports had come in from Faith about Hudson making pushes against her Bliss factories again. Jacob had agreed to send in more men to help defend them and had been coordinating all of that for most of the morning. Cat was currently relaxing up in their room by herself. She had woken that morning not feeling particularly great and so her team checked on the beacons themselves. Once she got the all-clear from them she felt comfortable enough to relax without having to worry about them. She was catching up on some reading – something other than reports for once – when it was as if a light bulb had gone off and shattered in her head.

How long had it been since her period?

She placed her book down on her lap, her eyes wide as she wracked her brain to figure out the answer. It was definitely before her wedding. When it didn’t started after her honeymoon she didn’t think twice about it. She’d been under quite a bit of stress lately, it wouldn’t be surprising if things simply got out of whack. Still, there was that tiny voice of hope in the back of her mind that was asking “What if?” Next to it however was a louder voice, one reminding her of the danger this could cause. They were in the middle of a war. A war in which she’d already been kidnapped, tortured, and kidnapped again. By this point she was wearing a path into the floor with her pacing. There was really only one thing left to do if she wanted a definitive answer. But what if she didn’t like the answer? And if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t know if she wanted it to be positive or not.

She pulled up her radio, calling for Isaac to meet her.

The man showed up rather quickly.

“Did you need something, ma’am? Jacob should be done with the ground team planning soon enough.”

“T-thank you, Isaac.” Cat realized now that this was going to not only be hard to get out due to Jacob being away, but also the sensitivity of the information. “B-but I was hoping to ask-ask for a favor?”

“Anything, ma’am.”

“Y-you can’t tell Jacob. I’ll-I’ll do that later.”

She looked up at him with pleading eyes. He wasn’t that much taller than her. Isaac seemed uncertain but nodded anyways.

“I need you to g-get me a p-pregnancy test.” She stared off at a spot on the floor as she felt her cheeks heat up.

If Isaac was surprised, he didn’t show it. But Cat swore she saw him stiffen up a bit.

“I’ll, uh, get right on that, ma’am.” And with that he turned and walked out the door.

Cat let out a sigh. Now she just had to wait.

Isaac returned about an hour later with a container of food from the mess hall. Cat raised an eyebrow as she took it from him at the door.

“In case Jacob asked what I was bringing you, I could say lunch instead of lying outright.” He smirked.

Cat chuckled. “A-appreciate it. Thank-thank you.”

“Of course, and,” He turned to close the door as he walked away “I wish you luck.”

Cat nodded her thanks once more before taking a big breath and heading to the bathroom.

To say that she was nervous was an understatement. She was currently sitting on the toilet seat staring a hole into the tile floor as she waited. It felt like she checked her watch every second and yet time was moving so slowly. Finally her time was up. She stared at the unassuming little stick sitting on the sink like it was a wild animal. She hesitantly stood up. The less than one foot walk felt like miles. She picked it up with shaky hands and squeezed her eyes shut.

If it was negative, she didn’t know what to do. She tried not to get her hope’s up but that’s impossible. She’d accept it, of course. It would be better in the long run, of course.

But if it was positive, that meant a whole new set of problems that, quite frankly, they weren’t ready for. If she was ready to accept those problems, would Jacob want to?

She took in a deep breath before psyching herself up and looking down.

It’s amazing how two, faint, pink lines can suddenly change everything.

Only seven and a half months to go, apparently.

[nymphl]

In the General’s Bed - Regency!Hux x Reader - Ch. 6 - To resent a General

A/N - Hello, sweethearts! Here’s chapter 6 of ITGB. This chapter has a lemony scene, a bit more detailed then the others in this story xD I hope you like this chapter, it’s one of my fav, even more because it entails a bit of shift in this story and what I’m planning for future chapters xD Anyways, thanks for leaving notes and reblogging. I appreciate your feedback very much. 

Story Summary: The General is cornered… Upon returning from a successful campaign in Battle of Waterloo, Armitage Hux knows he has no excuses left; he must produce the much-needed heir. The problem is, when the two of you parted five years ago, it was not in the best of terms. Now, he may not find his wife, you, so willing as he first expected, nor keen on taking part in any of his political games. [Hux x Reader – Hux x You – Regency AU].

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: Regency Era; Alternate Universe; Alternate Story; Alternate Universe - Historical; Arranged Marriage; Politics; War; Napoleonic Wars; England - 1815; Married Couple; OOCness; Smut

Wordcount: 7898

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

“THREE… TWO… ONE… THERE YOU GO, LITTLE LORD.”

You smiled as Lux positioned his chubby hands over the piano keys and played the brief song you had just taught him. He was a smart kid and learned fast. Part of you would rather if he did not catch onto things so quickly, as to delay his imminent parting as much as possible.    

“Well done,” you said, before pressing your lips lightly to his forehead. You knew Rae Sloane was watching everything with her attentive eyes as she read a book in the nearby ottoman. “Well done.”

As he continued to play, you let yourself think of Hux’s words. Of his whispered confession last night.

My damned father made sure I will only have access to the total sum of my inheritance only when I have an heir of my own. 

You remembered you reacted with a loud What? and that you told yourself there was nothing to be surprised about. Brendol Hux would do anything in his power to undermine his own son — flesh, blood… those were notions the previous General did not give a damn about. If he could jeopardize Armitage’s standing, he certainly would.

The very thought made you bit your bottom lip in anger. You did not know which father was worse, if yours — with his prejudice and blatant disregard of women — or Brendol — with his dubious character and… well, you could also say blatant disregard of women and his own flesh and blood.

There were days in which you were grateful for having barely interacted with the man himself. And in most of them, you pitied Hux for having had to put up with him for almost three decades.

Bad character aside, Brendol’s actions posed a problem for both of you. Armitage had the money, he just could not use it until…

You sighed.   

And recalled Rae’s own words to you.

…give him a damned heir…

Well, it seemed now you had no other choice. It was either give him a damned heir or watch him making a deal with Lady Carise — the devil herself. Borrowing money from a banker was completely out of the picture.  

“Mama… Mama!”

You were startled as Lux’s voice reached you. He had placed both of his tiny hands on your face, directing your attention to him. The piano keys — his recent fixation — completely forgotten.

“I am terribly sorry, Little Lord. I am…” You stopped yourself before you could lie. Rae cast a glance at you from her book, eyes narrowed. “Very much distracted today.”

He nodded, but his face hid nothing of his disappointment. You chewed your bottom lip; overcome with guilty, but feeling your mind racing with possibilities all the same. You had to find a way to get you out of this situation — to repay for his… understanding. To name it as kindness would be a bit too much.

The fact is… Hux had a meeting with his investors today — one in which he would be accompanied by Lord Mitaka — and only God could know what their reaction would be as soon as they knew how little profit the Arkanis Brewery would give them in the next few months — it is, if Hux found a way to pay for his debts. You admitted that in such devastating scenario, the was the fastest and safest way to get out of this predicament, without leading him to compromise his candidacy for Prime Minister, would be to accept Lady Carise’s money.  

Nevertheless, you would have no way out if you did not get pregnant soon. Well, needless to say you were trying, but there had to be something else — something faster and precise — that could be done.

With a defeated sigh, you messed his ginger hair. He ran his fingers through his tresses and stared at you with a scowl — to which you did your best to muffle your laughter. He was just too adorable when he was mad!

“Mama! And Lord Hux?”

“What about Lord Hux, Little Lord?” You pressed a lovingly kiss to his cherub cheeks and watched with amusement as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. He was indeed mad at you. 

Rae Sloane cast a glance at you; one that showed that in spite of her disapproval of Lux’s inappropriate behavior, she was still at least a bit amused with his frustration. 

“The violin, Mama!”

Ah yes…

He had been talking excitedly for a good few minutes — a few days now — about Hux’s violin — you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact Lux had actually seen his uncle playing the instrument. It had been years since you last saw him near it — and you barely heard anything he said.

You sighed.

“I know you want to play violin, but listen to me, I myself don’t know how to play it and I’m not sure Lord Hux has the time to teach you.” 

His face fell.

It was obvious he had developed some sense of… admiration to your husband. He worshiped him — honestly, Lux was a very lonely child and he had the tendency of looking up to anyone who paid him a measly few minutes of attention.

You left the bench and kneeled in front of him, adjusting his clothes and bringing him closer to you by his waistcoat.   

“But I can keep teaching you how to play the piano.”

He smiled. Begrudgingly, but he did.

“Now?”

You were ready to answer the both of you should get ready to have lunch and later — after you got some well needed time to send a message to your contact in The Times — you could teach him a thing or two about the piano, but you were interrupted by the sound of someone opening the door of the drawing room.

Looking up, you were surprised to see your husband crossing the threshold. The boy beamed up as he saw Hux and he quickly left your embrace to run towards his new idol.

You rolled your eyes.

“I want your violin.”

“Lux Dameron!” Rae admonished him; her voice was harsh and hid nothing of her disapproval. “That’s no proper way to ask for anything.”

He lowered his head, ashamed and muttering a small, feeble apology. You could barely hear him saying I’m sorry, Lord Hux.

Armitage, however, did not seem to mind the boy’s lack of etiquette. Blue eyes focused on you — and the intensity of his stare made you shiver; it felt as if he could read your thoughts and what you were planning… or thinking about planning… —, he dismissed Lux’s apology, “I’ll teach you how to play it one of these days.”

Lux looked up at him with adoration in his chestnut eyes. Your husband was doing a hell of good job of turning the boy against you and Rae. Firstly, he promised to teach him how to ride a horse and now… he promised violin lessons.

With a sharp intake of breath, Rae fixed her dark eyes on him, making Lux hide behind Hux’s long legs.

“Really?”

Hux nodded, dismissing Rae’s stare as if it meant nothing. You wondered how many times she terrorized him in his childhood — and how many times she did not act on those stares, if Hux treated it so lightly.  “Now, you must go with Lady Rae and get ready for lunch.”

“Yes!”

He was so excited at the prospect of spending more time with Hux, he paid Rae little to no attention — a fatal mistake if your memory did not fail you; Rae would probably ground him for the entire week and only you knew how terrible Lux’s mood got whenever he was banned from visiting the stables and his beloved friend horses, but at the moment, he did not seem to even remember how devilish Lady Sloane could be.

Accepting her hand, he followed her out of the drawing room humming to a childish song. You were ready to trail after them, when you felt your husband’s hand enclosing around your wrist.

“I never allowed you to leave, Lady Hux.”

A happy sigh left you as he brought your body closer to his and his lips fell upon yours in a slow, seductive kiss. He entangled his fingers in your hair — and if he did not know how to drive you mad with want, you would have scolded him for undoing your perfect hairdo — and angled your head for his better pleasure; his tongue running enticingly over the rim of your lips.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, and then slowly sliding them into his ginger locks — you almost expected him to trap your hands between his, but this time he did not seem to mind a disheveled appearance —, you gladly let him in, stroking your own tongue boldly against his.

He let you go after what seemed a good few minutes and pressed a kiss to your temples. You fought to reign in your breathing as he lowered his forehead to yours.

“I know what you’re thinking…” You wetted your lips nervously. “He isn’t a Dameron and you dislike seeing him being addressed as such.”

There was a minute of silence as you caressed his face.

“No. He isn’t,” he replied as he put some space between the two of you.

A tired sigh left your lips.

You could have pointed out he could never be a Hux — not if he wanted to become Prime Minister in the near future — and that he once hated his family name, but you understood what he meant. After Brendol passed away, the name Hux gained a new face: his — and later on yours —, and with it a new blank chapter; one he was willing to write differently, for the sake of his new family. And Lux is family.

Part of you wondered if the desire to recognize Lux as family came from the desire to right his father’s — and yours too — wrongs. If not for you and Rae, his fate would be… probably worse than Hux’s.   

However, you both knew that if anyone just dreamed about Lux being his nephew and your little brother it would be the end of his aspirations. Your standing in the town would be compromised and no sane King would approve of him as the Head of the Parliament. And that position meant a great deal to Hux.

You walked to him, until you invaded his personal space.

“Would you rather if he were your son?” you whispered against his lips, but as soon as the words were out, you realized how stupid that question was.

He chose silence.

You swallowed.

“How did it go?” you said, trying to change the topic and get some control over the situation. “What did the board say?”

It was all it took for him to break apart. Again.

You pursed your lips, trying not to let his actions get to you so easily. It was obvious he did not like to be further inquired on his meeting with his investors. It must have gone horribly if he was so against talking about it. That… or he did not like to talk about business at all.

Part of you understood where he came from. Most husbands did not talk to their wives about… Well, they simply did not talk. Most wives were there just for the show. Very few of them ran their estates and even fewer understood about business and politics. Even if they were interested in such topics, it was expected of them to shy away from them. Except for the Ton politics, noble ladies… Wealthy families, it is… they did not — should not — waste their precious time with the intricacies of business and income… They just… spent money as if there was no tomorrow and in case they lost it, well… they simply gained it back through marriages.

An accomplished lady knew about dancing, playing the piano, embroidery… but never about income and basic taxation. And the few men who understood the intricacies of the business world, probably came from the lower classes, working class, as Armitage’s family did. Your father, for one, knew nothing of business. He ran his estate with the same regard he showed your mother: which is to say, almost none. When he realized he spent all his wealth on courtesans back in London, he decided to regain it at the gambling table.

But you were no trophy wife. You refused to be. You would not back down. Sitting beside him on the setee, you took his hand between yours. Slowly, you traced the gold band on his finger.

“What did they say, Armitage?”

He narrowed his eyes at you; a clear warning. You should tread carefully when looking for answers, pressing him would not do. You rolled your eyes. You were not scared in the least.

“We’re not having this conversation, Lady Hux.”  

You snorted.

“Well then, Lord Hux, perhaps you’d like to tell me what you’ll tell Lady Sindian.”

He inhaled sharply at your words.

“Or you’re not having this conversation with me either?”

“Careful, Lady Hux.”

You knew you were playing with fire, but you were not about to back down. Not now. Not ever. You told him you were in this for real — you told him that if he wanted to be Prime Minister, he would need you and you stood by that. If he wanted to get out of this debt, he would have to start trusting you.

If he thought you would not understand about his business, the least he could do is to tell you about how he would approach Lady Sindian. He would have to be smarter than her with his excuses — a simply refusal would not do.

You knew and he knew Lady Carise was dying to get back at your family — at you — for years now. If not having you pressing your father to let you marry Armitage, she probably would be your stepmother now… A Marquise. Having Lord Hux owing her a large sum of money seemed the right way to go. It did not seem to you she would let such matter go that easily. Unless… Unless she had something else in mind to use against the two of you. Something bigger. Something better.

That’s why he would have to be smooth. Lady Carise was not just any woman. Just like you, she did not bow to other men — she did not take no for answer.

You were ready to inquire him further, when you felt him bringing your wrist to his mouth. Your heart quickened as got a brief taste of your skin. A gasp left you as he pulled you to him, forcing you to straddle his hips. His lips quickly found yours in a searing kiss. You knew what he was doing and even though you thoroughly disliked it, you would let him have his secrets.

For now.   

You woke up later with a strong headache.

There was no need to look for Hux’s watch-pocket to know it was late afternoon — he had left you spent, and you slept more than you usually did whenever you took an afternoon nap — and that you had gone by without lunch once more. No wonder your head felt like exploding, yet you felt no hungrier than before. To your surprise, he was still by your side. But, this time, instead of relief, you were disappointed.

You left the comfort of his arms and rolled on your back.

“Ugh… Why is it so clear? And who’s playing Schubert?”

As expected, there was no reply from his part. There was no need to. In spite of Rae’s misgivings about the piano, she was quite proficient at it. She put many of the accomplished ladies of the Ton to shame with her skills — after five years living with you and seeing you practice, she became quite fond of the instrument, even though she would not admit it.

Since the two of you disappeared to your chambers before lunch, you imagined she would take it upon herself to keep Lux busy and out of your hair. By now, you thought the poor boy was probably sleeping in the setee, while Rae played to her heart’s content.

You closed your eyes — as if it could relieve the pain and ease the guilt —, but they quickly snapped open when Armitage moved over you, his nose touching yours and his breath caressing your face.

He kissed you.

Slowly.

Sweetly.

A mere brush of lips.

“You worry too much.”

With a gasp, you let him in, stroking your own tongue against his. He let you dominate it — dominate him —, not caring once more that you had slid your hands between his ginger locks. His fingers traveled the extension of your legs lightly, prying them open, so he could slide between them. He did not stop until he reached your hips, applying the slightest of pressures.

The kiss did not last long. He let go of your lips and moved downwards, placing open-mouthed kisses on every inch of exposed skin. Your breath grew heavier as he paid thorough attention to your throat at the same time his hands traveled upwards, in a quest for your breasts.

“We’ll be late for dinner.”

He paid little no regard to what you said. And in spite of what you said, you, too, could not care less about your lateness. Even the melancholic sound of the piano downstairs did not deter you from your quest for the astounding heights of pleasure you could reach together. A moan left you as you tried to move your hips, seeking the much-needed friction. He was so hard, and you were… so ready to take him, you moved your hand from his shoulders and tried to reach his cock… Just to have your wrists trapped. You grunted in disappointment, but he merely lowered his head to your chest and pressed light kisses to the undersides of your breasts. Quite but never touching you were you needed most.

“I won’t beg.”

His lips tilted in the shadow of a knowing smirk.

A gasp escaped you as he placed a small kiss over your nipples. First, on the right breast and then the left. He did not take his time to worship them, however. He kept on lowering his kisses, going past your ribcages, your belly, your navel, till he reached your hipbone.

You pressed your lids together, waiting anxiously for what was to come. For a man who did not enjoy small talk, he surely knew how to put his mouth to better uses than to those of meaningless discourse.

Squirming in his hold, you tried to get your hands free — to fist the sheets, to grab onto his hair —, but he did not allow you to. His lips ghosted over the insides of your thighs — it was so light you could barely feel it. You arched your back, lifting your hips — offering yourself to him. He ran the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“Yes! Gods, yes!”

With a smirk, he drew away. His lips glistening with your wetness. You bit your own bottom lip, frustrated beyond measure.

“You won’t have me begging.”  

He ran his lips over your left calf, letting go of your wrists — to which you checked for marks and thanked the old-fashioned use of gloves; the General had a penchant for leaving you marked. With his left hand he held your leg close to his mouth and lazily pumped himself with his right hand.

You inhaled sharply at the sight. It was indeed a feast to the eyes. Armitage knew how to please your every sense — vision, hearing, smell, taste, touch… none was left unattended for too long.

“Touch yourself.”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure. It is not to say that in the five years you were apart, you never sought to pleasure yourself — but to have him watching you was completely different. The intensity in his eyes made you warm all over. Your lids fluttered closed as you reached down, tracing your own thighs, approaching your center very slowly… outlining your lips… testing your wetness… quite but not entering yourself, as you knew he wanted.

“Look at me,” he whispered against your calf; his lips were almost on your knees, kissing the underside of it. “Keep your eyes open. I want to see them when you come.”

His words had you breathing deeply through your nose.

You opened your eyes, looking at his face and then sliding down… to the path of ginger hair leading to his engorged, beautiful shaft… Your mouth watered — you moaned — at the sight of precum oozing from his head.

Under his attentive gaze, you slid one finger inside of you and then a second; the heel of your hand applied a sweet pleasure to your clit. More than once, you thought about closing your eyes — the intensity in his blue orbs too much for you —, but as you lost yourself to the growing pleasure, you realized you could not shift your attention from how he stroked his shaft, timing it to the rhythm of the music. The feel of his lips, inching closer and closer to your center forced you to keep your eyes wide open and focused on him.

As the piece of music reached a crescendo — and you could swear you would never be able to play or listen to Schubert without reliving this very afternoon —, so did his movements — and yours too. Your breath grew heavier, beads of sweat pooled in the valley of your breasts, sliding down your skin. You were close and he knew it.

Armitage lowered himself on the bed and placed one of your legs over his shoulders; your hands were put aside. His heavenly mouth ghosted over your clit, his warm breath making you clench around nothing. This time, the thought of not begging flew off your mind as you uttered a broken please.

With a smug smirk, he took your clit between his lips, sliding two of his fingers inside you. Losing no time, he looked for that sweet spot that would have you singing for him as he worked you towards an earth-shattering orgasm.

As it hit you — just a marvelous, indescribable feeling that had you arching your back off the bed and your eyes filling with unshed tears —, you sought his hair — to keep him in place or to pull him apart; you were so sensitive you thought you could not take any more stimulation —, instead, you felt the fingers of his left hand entwining with yours as he continued to lap at you; allowing you to ride your orgasm fully.

The piece came to a diminuendo and so did the movement of his fingers and his tongue against you, until they completely stopped. A deep, contented sigh left you as you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your legs were trembling; you were so weak you thought that if not for being laid over the mattress you would fall on your knees — exactly like last time when he ate you out against the door of his study. The mere remembrance made your face hot.

With the final notes, he entered you without warning.

Both of you gasped.

He took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth — letting you taste yourself. Part of you expected him to give you a moment to adjust to his size or at least to recuperate from the last orgasm. Instead, he set a punishing rhythm against your hips.

It did not hurt — and even if it did, you learned how to find pleasure in a bit of pain — but you were so sensible, the second wave of pleasure found you without voice. Your nails punctured his flesh as he sought his own release.

He was so worked up, it did not take him long to abandon the timed strokes. His mouth was against your throat, and broken moans and grunts escaped through his opened lips. You brought his hand to your breasts and he kneaded the pearls between his fingers, with his right hand he stroked your clit in a circular movement, to the point you were sobbing.

As your second orgasm came to an end, his own started. He pressed a kiss to your breasts, and you pulled onto his hair till a grimace of pain took over his features — exactly like he enjoyed. He grunted your name; his eyes fell closed as his hips jerked forward one last time.

It felt like ages had gone by as he emptied himself inside you. His lips worshipped the column of your throat and his hand travelled over your thighs in a slow, sensual caress as you both tried to recover.

His breath became normal before yours. He kept on placing small open-mouthed kisses to your glistening skin, whispering words you could not understand — or care less. Your eyes were heavy, and you were so tired all you wanted was to doze off at least a bit. He softened still inside of you, but you were so comfortable in such position, you did not want him to move an inch.

He did not.

“You should get ready.” He captured your lips lightly. You sighed happily. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you, my love,” you whispered against his mouth. You pressed a light kiss to his lips, but he did not kiss you back. Your words had him drawing apart — it was impossible not to be aware that it was all because you addressed him in a novelettish manner.

Armitage slid out of you and sat on his side of the bed.

You bit your bottom lip.

He stared ahead. His mind, however, was distant. You closed your eyes, running your hands over your face, as if it would just erase what you just said; you heavily regretted your form of endearment.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

His impossibly blue eyes snapped back to you. He breathed deeply through his nose.

“Think not of it. My mind is just busy.”

His words — so detached — coupled with his facial expression — so perfectly schooled —, made you flinch. You bit your bottom lip, realizing what you did not want to acknowledge before: whenever the two of you made love, his heart was not into it. He enjoyed the physical act to its fullest — he ensured you did too —, but like he said… his mind — and heart — was elsewhere.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and sat on the bed, wrapping the sheets wrapped around your body. You seized the moment to introduce a topic you were dying to discuss with him a while ago.

“We should sell the estate in Southampton.”

His answer came quicker than you expected; his voice firm — not loud or authoritative, “Absolutely not.”

Coupled with how still his body went, you quickly understood he did not want to talk further about the topic. It did not mean you would concede defeat so easily, though.

“Please.”

You sought his fingers. He caught your wrist, running his thumb over your palm. He brought it to his lips, bestowing upon your knuckles a small kiss.

Biting your bottom lip, you focused your attention on his face. The slight tilt of his lips indicated he knew what he was doing to you and what exactly were your thoughts concerning it.

You snatched your hand away, focusing on the present issue. You spent a great deal of the afternoon being distracted — fooled — by him. You dismissed it before, letting him have his way with you, but now, you could not avoid the politics and the sensitive topics concerning his imminent bankruptcy.

“Hear me out.”

“My answer is final, Lady Hux.”

The fact that he did not call you by your name indicated he really did not — and would not — want to discuss such topic any further. Your shoulders slumped, but you did not concede defeat. Not so quickly. 

“That’s my house and therefore my decision to make.”

He pursed his lips into a thin line. It was obvious he was getting tired of it. Getting tired of your insistence — it was clear he was not in the least inclined to share a few things with you. His business was one of them.

And honestly, he was not wrong. Actually, he was — but not legally speaking. According to British law, you were his property to do as he pleased and talking or not about business as his decision to make. Selling your house was his decision to make — not yours.

How you hated being a woman most of times!

“Armitage.”

“(Y/N)”.

You rolled your eyes. He was going to make this hard for you — he could be very difficult when he wanted to. Displeased, you watched as he rose from the bed and slipped inside his robe. Shoulders down, your mind raced with possible arguments as you waited for him to go fetch his cigar and a glass of brandy.

It was needless to ask for him to pour some for yourself. As you were trying to conceive, anything alcoholic was out of the picture. And yet, you could feel your mouth watering at the mere thought of the amber liquid running down your throat.

After a few minutes went by, it became strikingly obvious he chose not to return to the bedroom. You slipped inside your robe, already sure he would admonish you for leaving the bed — the family’s physician had recommended for you to lie down after the two of you engaged in sexual relations; according to him, it would increase the chances of fertilization. Rae had rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but you were not one to disobey doctor’s orders that easily when there was so much at stake.

However…

This was an entirely different situation.

You were no expert when it came to finances, but after managing your father’s estate for five years, it was crystal clear the situation at the brewery was quite complicated — and it was you putting it mildly. He needed money — a large sum of it — and although a pregnancy and an heir would solve the problem easier than making a deal with Lady Carise, you were not so naïve as to think you would get pregnant that quick.

For that, you would have to count on luck and that was not something either could afford right now. That’s why you should convince him to sell your summer manor. That was the fastest way to solve the money problem without recurring to Lady Carise and her… less than adequate intentions towards your husband.

The mere thought of the woman made your entire body shudder.

You did not trust the her. You never did. Not even when she was to marry your father and become your stepmother. Something about her smelled fishy. And, God, it was in no way jealousy.

There was just something about her… that simply did not sit well with you.

And when your guts told you to stay away from something or someone... You would rather pay attention to it.   

You dismissed such thoughts as you tightened the knot at your waist and ran your fingers through your messed hair — in case you met a servant in your way. Nevertheless, there was no need to go that far, for he was in the anteroom. Back turned to you, he exhaled the smoke, before bringing the cigar back to his lips.

Carefully, you approached him, encircling your arms around his waist. He stilled in your embrace but did not move away from you. With a relieved sigh, you tightened your hold and leaned your forehead against his back.

For a moment, all you could hear was the cadenced beating of his heart. It was calm and so very comforting. He placed his cigar in the cinder-box and entwined his hand with yours. It did not take him long to turn around in your embrace and face you.

“We’re not selling the Southampton manor, (Y/N).”

You could have asked why, but you were too tired for that. Suddenly, all you wanted as to get some sleep and forget that disastrous afternoon — dinner be damned. Aside the fact he could tell you he had a monetary problem — more likely he did not have a choice to begin with — it was obvious he did not want you having a part in solving it.

“I refuse to be the kind of husband that relies on his wife’s heritage to solve his problems.”

You snorted, ready to pretend you did not hear that. Or ready to ask him how it could be so different to borrow Lady Carise’s money, but not yours. After five years living only with Rae Sloane — a remarkably independent woman — and Lux — and a few servants, of course, but they would not meddle in how you decided to run the house or your life — it was easy to forget how men behaved and how societal expectations weighed heavily on their shoulders. Truth is, Rae taught how much free a woman can be making her own decisions and you were not ready to give up on that.

Instead, you settled on, “I don’t want that heritage. It has brought me nothing but pain.” You realized your mistake as soon as he broke away from you, but now… Now you could not back down. You looked at him, at his impossibly blue eyes as you continued, “The happiest moments I have in that house are related to Lux.” And Rae, of course. But that was a given. Honestly, even if there were happier memories from the house, it was not something you could so selfishly hold onto in times of need. And this very situation configured as such, in your opinion. You just had to make Hux see that.

He nodded…

…and you breathed slowly…

…relieved…

He was finally seeing things your way.

“The manor in Southampton is not to be sold. That’s final.” 

Oh, dear God!

With that, he brought the cigar back to his lips, his eyes focused on the quickly darkening sky outside. “Now, go get ready. I’ll wait you downstairs.”

Seething with anger, you bit your bottom lip, but decided not to give him the answer you desperately wanted. He was right, you should get ready. You should leave his presence and stay alone for a while, least you wanted to end up killing him.

“Like this, Mama?”

You pressed a small kiss to Lux’s forehead and nodded. You were a bit distracted, but more focused on him than that morning.

“Yes, exactly like this, Little Lord.” A small smile blossomed on your lips as you ran your fingers through his ginger hair. He was very enthusiastic about you having dinner with him and later keeping him company as he played the piano. You dismissed his tutoress, giving her an earlier respite.

Part of you — the childish part — was dying to know how Hux reacted to your absence. Even though the Lady of the House could indulge in the luxury of having breakfast in her chambers, dinner was an entirely different story. And part of you — the part that was trying to behave like the grown woman you were — just wanted some peace and the opportunity to sort your thoughts.

Spending some time with Lux gave you exactly what you were looking for. Not to mention, you felt bad for neglecting him during a great deal of the last few days.

“Promise me that if you ever get married, you will listen to your partner.”

He stopped playing and removed his chubby hands from the keys. He looked at you with a confused face, as if he had no idea what you were talking about — and how could he? Lux was just four — sometimes it was easy to forget. 

“Never mind.” You placed both of his hands back on the keys and instructed, “Keep going, you’re doing great!”

Lux beamed up at your words — a genuine smile curving his lips and highlighting his dimples. You felt tempted to pinch his cheeks, but you knew he would get mad at you. And he was doing so well, you did not want to distract him right now.

“Rae is no fun,” he commented when he got bored of the melody you were teaching him.

You smiled once more.

Yes.

He was right.

Rae is no fun.

“Adults are no fun,” you commented, placing both hands on the piano and inventing another melody just so he could copy you and thus you could extend your time together — even though it was way past his bedtime.

“No! You are fun, Mama!” His vehemence made you laugh a little.

“Lord Hux would probably say I’m no adult at all.”

And with your recent behavior, you could say he was right. And as soon as he knew what you did, he would be even sure of it. You bit your bottom lip, expecting him to chew you alive next day when he read the newspaper tomorrow morning.

No.

You did the right thing.

If he was not willing to see things your way, you just had to force him to. You had done it before, and it worked. There was no way it would not work now.

“You should not speak for myself.”

Both you and Lux looked up to see the figure of your husband leaning against the threshold. He unfolded his arms and approached you in a few, firm strides.

“Lord Hux!” Lux exclaimed, shifting on his seat. He moved closer to you, giving space for Armitage to sit beside him.

“Lord Hux,” you acknowledged his presence with pursed lips. Not keen on talking to him in front of a small child — you still resented him for his behavior earlier —, you moved your fingers over the keys.

He seemed to think of it as an offer, for he, too, accompanied you in the music. After years of watching him playing his violin, you almost forgot how proficient he was at playing the piano.

Biting your bottom lip, you removed your fingers from the keys and rose to your feet. Still playing, Armitage looked at you with could almost pass as a surprised expression. You knew better.

“Let’s go, Lux,” you said, outstretching your hand. “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“But Mama—

“Lux!” You did not let him finish his plea. At some point, you knew you would give in. “Come.”

“But I don’t wanna go,” he pleaded again, his intense chestnut eyes shining with unshed tears. He looked at Armitage, trying to get him on his side.

You sighed. 

“Leave him be,” Hux said in an even tone, even if firmly. “I’ll get him to bed later.”

“No.”

If he was not willing to share things with you, you would not share your authority over Lux. Besides your unwillingness to do as your husband said, it was very late, and Lux was tired. If he was irritated at the mere possibility of going to bed, it was because it was way past his time to sleep.

Rubbing his eyes, Lux climbed down the seat and walked to you, not taking your hand, but not completely dismissing it either. As soon as you opened the door, you spotted the governess walking down the corridor.

She stopped as she saw you and subconsciously adjusted her clothes. If you were not so mad at Hux, you would probably have smiled at her gesture.

“May I help you, Your Ladyship?”

You shook your head, but your husband was behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he forced you to step back to his arms. His hand over yours prevented you from breaking apart.

“Take Lux to his room.”

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied, offering Lux a hand. The boy quickly took it, casting a final glance at both of you. “Come, Lord Lux.”

As the two of them disappeared in the dim lighted corridor, you stepped away from Hux’s embrace.

“If you kindly excuse me.”

Before you could even leave the room, he had closed the door and pressed you against it. You inhaled sharply but refused to look at him over your shoulder.   

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His imperative tone made you snap. You shifted in his embrace and raised your chin, “Why should I talk to you when you don’t show the same consideration to me?”

He did not reply, not immediately. With the back of his hand, he traced your jawline and with his thumb he traced your bottom lip.

“I hate you.”

“I thought we were past that,” he replied lowering his face to yours. As soon as you felt his breath so close to your mouth, you turned your face away from him, letting his lips brush your cheeks.

“We have never been past that.” You moved from under his arms and put some distance between the two of you. He was ready to follow you when you said, “Don’t touch me without my permission.”

He stopped immediately, his hands falling to his sides.

You looked away, your eyes full of unshed tears.

“I thought we were on talking terms now, but it seems I was mistaken.” You drew in a sharp breath. Pressing your fingers firmly against the fabric of your dress, you raised your chin again, “A word of advice, Lord Hux, if you want to convince the King to appoint you as Prime Minister—

His snort made you stop momentarily. However, there were a few things to be said, and be damned his unwillingness to hear them. 

“If you want to be Prime Minister,” you repeated; your eyes narrowed at him. “You should start talking to your wife. Your opponents will constantly do their best to put us against each other and I can’t simply take your side every time if I don’t know what’s going on through your head.”

He approached in purposeful strides. He forced you to release the fabric of your dress and placed both of your hands on his shoulders.

“They will undoubtedly do that,” he said, running his thumb over your cheeks. “And for your and Lux’s sake, you should be ready to turn on me if the time comes.”

You furrowed your brows.

What was he talking about?

“A word of advice, Lady Hux.” He mimicked you, running his thumb over your bottom lip to prevent you from biting it. “Perhaps you should watch whom you make alliances with. Perhaps siding with His Highness won’t bring the expected results.”

Your eyed widened.

“It’s treason.”

He broke apart.

“It’s only treason if I get caught.”

You followed him, your mouth agape. That was a dangerous game — this one he was playing. When you reached him, you put your hand on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Armitage, hear me out, if you get caught—” You shook your head and lowered your voice. “No. When you get caught, you’ll be hanged.”

He kissed the inside of your hand.

“That’s why you’ll have to make them believe you knew nothing.”

You shook your head.

He was not listening to you.

He was not fucking listening to you.

“There was no meeting this morning with the board, right? You met with the Prince.”

He shrugged.

“The Kings is dying.”

“He isn’t dead yet,” you retorted. “Your personal interests should not interfere with those of the Crown. Listen, I know you want to become Prime Minister, but betraying your King will nev—

He snorted.

…and pulled your head back by your hair, exposing your throat to his lips.

“You don’t fool me, Lady Hux.” He brought his lips to yours. “You pretend your loyalty lies with the King, but I know you want this as much as I do.”

“Yes.” You replied breathless. “I want it, but I am being reasonable here while you are not. You’re loyal to no one, but yourself!”

Placing both hands on his shoulders, you tried to force him to break apart. His hand wrapped around your neck, applying the slightest of pressures to your windpipe.

“Yes… You’re right. I’m loyal only to myself.” He kissed the corner of your lips. “But what about you, Lady Hux? Where your loyalty lies?”

“With—

“Think carefully about your answer.” Your answer had his fingers tightening around your throat — not to the point of hurting you.  

You wetted your lips.

“With the Crown, obviously.”

“Why?”

He pried his fingers open a little bit, allowing you to draw in a breath and reply — you were not so sure he would not like to hear it, “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

You bit your bottom lip, relieved that he seemed pleased with your answer. You thought about going on differently about it, but you knew he was talking hypothetically — just in case he was caught in his own game, something he did not plan on happening.

“Exactly, Lady Hux.” He kissed your throat softly. Next, his lips were upon yours in a brief — so very sweet — kiss. After it was over, he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“You shouldn’t have to ask it. You know my loyalty lies with you. Because I lo—” You closed your eyes and drew in a breath. It was time you were honest, not only with him, but with yourself. “Because without you I can’t get what I want.”

“And what do you want, Lady Hux?”

Looking into his eyes, you replied, “Power.”

You loved Hux — you really did —, but you also loved the many possibilities a relationship with him represented. Knowing that he coveted — and could possibly be chosen — the position of Prime Minister opened a lot of those possibilities for you. You knew that without him, you would never reach a position of power — at least, not one like this.

“I want power.”

This time, his lips fell upon yours passionately. His hands slithered to your waist as he brought your body closer to his. You gasped, giving him the chance to slide his tongue over yours and deepen the kiss. He walked you back, till you met with the piano bench. He made you sit down, kneeling before you.

Biting your bottom lip, you drew in a sharp breath. He kissed your throat, his hand slithering under your dress to caress your thighs. You watched in awe as he removed your shoes and then your stockings. You knew that as soon as he touched your undergarments, he would find them dripping wet.

“Tell me what you want, Lady Hux.”

You allowed him to remove the offending article of clothing that kept his glorious fingers from you. Arching your back, you offered more of yourself to him.

“You. I want you.”

He removed his lips from your throat and shook his head. His fingers — oh, so close — stopped their caress over your sensible, burning skin. 

That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

You drew in a breath…

…and wetted your lips.

“I want power.”

It was all it took to have his fingers caressing you in the way he knew you needed it and to have his lips falling upon yours in an overpowering kiss.

“And you shall have it. Power suits you.”

A/N - And that’s all for today. I’m still working on my stories. I hope you forgive me for taking so much time between updates. 

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Ephemera Chapter Nineteen (END)

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 7.0k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: GUYS THE ALBUM!! THE MV!! JAMAIS VU, MAKE IT RIGHT, DIONYSUS!! TRULY THE BOPS OF ALL BOPS I CANNOT BELIEVE THE LEVEL OF ARTISTRY! EVERY TIME I THINK THEY’VE GOTTEN AS GOOD AS IS HUMANLY POSSIBLE, THE DO SOMETHING BETTER!! God, I loved it. Anyway, this chapter! Haha we’ve finally reached the end of our journey! I can’t believe it, really. Anyway, please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later, so for now check my masterlist to find previous chapters!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all! And concert videos!!

ALSO BIG UPDATE: I’ll be taking a couple weeks off from writing series’ until after the BTS concert on May 4. I don’t want to get into a posting routine only to have to throw it off for that weekend. That said, I’ll be working on finishing REALLY OLD requests that I haven’t gotten to yet, so I’ll be posting! Just not series. (Although, I do have my next series planned and started. If you guys want spoilers for that, plz send me an ask hehe)

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

My daughter,

I’m sure this letter comes as a bit of a shock to you. It’s a bit of a shock to me as well. I don’t know exactly where to start.

Leaving you was the hardest decision I ever had to make. But now that you’re older, I hope you can understand me. Even just a little. You were the biggest hope in my life, but I didn’t feel worthy of you. I didn’t want to raise a daughter whose only mother was dependent on someone else to support her. I didn’t have any options in the countryside, but I thought if I went to Seoul and came home successful…maybe you’d grow to respect me.

It sounds selfish writing it down. It was selfish. I am selfish.

To be honest, I didn’t intend on reaching out to you. As it stands, I’m working for a small company as a web designer. Not exactly the lofty dream I had when I left. I didn’t want to face you until I’d made something of myself, so you’d understand why I had to leave. But…well, things change over time I suppose.

I keep a close eye on the tabloids in Seoul because of my job, and when the news about Vante dropped I was intrigued. Truthfully, I’d been trying to get in with him for years. Ever since he showed up in the art scene. I wanted to help him market himself online.

I was perplexed, however, considering the fact that he seems quite reclusive and yet had a female companion with him in almost every photo. For a while, I was trying to figure out who that girl was so I could reach out to her. And as it turns out…you know the rest.

I don’t want you to think I’m exploiting you. I’d never want to do something like that. I’m really glad you were the girl, and not just for career aspects. I was shocked when I found out, and I immediately called a PI to find your address. It wasn’t cheap. But being able to speak with you after so long is a blessing.

I’d love to meet with you in person. Catch up. Talk about what you’ve been up to all these years. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady, and you’re doing so many exciting things. I’d love to hear all about them.

Please meet me at the address below on Sunday at 1 PM if you can. It’s a little coffee shop I like. I think it might be a nice place to reunite.

And I apologize for not writing a return address. I’m not sure how you’ll receive this, and I don’t want any legal trouble should you decide this letter is worth litigation.

Hoping to see you there.

Sincerely,

Mom

I’d read and reread the letter enough times to burn the script into my mind forever. If I shut my eyes, her words still floated around on the blacks of my lids. I’d never expected to hear from her again, and was content living my life independently from hers. Perhaps some deep, dark part of me was hoping to rub my success in her nose somehow, but…not like this. The nerve of her. To reach out to me after all these years…

Just because I knew Taehyung.

Something about that stung me in a place that was too tender to look at closely. I didn’t know why the pain was so visceral, but it felt deeper than just a blow to the ego.

I stared at the letter sitting on my coffee table, wrinkled and worn from my chronic folding and unfolding. It had only been a day, and my mind was still swimming in the letter. What right did she have to disrupt my life this way? Who was she to me anyway to be able to affect my waking hours? To consume my thoughts?

I sighed and flipped it over so I only saw my address. What a joke. She thought I might hand over the letter to the police or something? Everything about the letter disgusted me.

So why was that address now burned in the back of my mind?

I touched my pointer finger to my necklace, the ruby one Taehyung had given me so long ago, as I waited in the Sanyo Industries reception room. Yoongi sat beside me, playing with his hands. As decided during our meeting, Yoongi and I were dressed sharp: him in a nice pair of slacks and a pressed button-down, and me in my work skirt and a blouse I had to steam to get the wrinkles out. The reception area was vast, a wide room with wide windows and lots of empty space. The employee behind the desk eyed us now and then, and it was clear by the way she’d received us that she knew exactly who Yoongi was. She’d practically stuttered out her greeting as we entered the modern-looking office.

“Why should the son of a CEO have to wait in the reception office?” I mumbled under my breath with a sigh.

I hadn’t bothered asking Yoongi if he’d gone to meet Nara like I suggested, mostly for his own sake. Emanating from Yoongi’s very core was a jittery sense of anticipation. His eyes flashed wildly around the room, toward the elevators, toward the front doors, toward the marble floor. I’d never seen him so visibly nervous. He was always like Troy, impregnable. But it seemed his father was his own Trojan Horse, his undoing. I eyed him, awaiting a reaction, but none came. Almost like he didn’t hear me at all.

I gave his arm a poke and raised my brows as he jumped and looked at me with wide eyes. “Huh?” he asked, swallowing hard.

I sighed and crossed my arms. “Yoongi, you don’t look so good,” I said, tone softening as I watched him with furrowed brow.

He inhaled sharply and held his breath for a few seconds before letting it out in a puff that startled the receptionist. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

I smiled, attempting a gentle pat, but he was so jumpy that the touch of my palm on his shoulder almost made him shout. “If this is too much, you can go. Honestly, we mostly needed you to get me inside,” I said, then rolled my eyes and glanced out onto the street where Namjoon stood, smoking a cigarette. “Well, me and that idiot.”

Yoongi shook his head and braced himself on his knees, knuckles white as he held on to the tops of his knees. “No,” he said, shutting his eyes with a steadying breath. “I’m not here just to help you guys.”

I nodded. “Listen…you wanting to take responsibility — for yourself and for Nara — it’s really noble. I respect it. But…well, if you don’t mind me being a little nosy, you seem super rattled. I don’t know if this is the best move for your sake,” I said, watching him for any reaction.

He only opened his eyes and nodded, somber. “It’s probably stupid,” he said with a humorless laugh. “But…after spending so long with my head in the sand, I guess the guilt of it is catching up with me.”

“Guilt?”

He shrugged. “How many innocent people have had their lives ruined by my dad’s business? How many people like Nara have I just…left behind? Because it was too much responsibility?”

I raised my brows. “This is the first time I’ve heard you talking about reformation. You seemed a bit ambivalent,” I said, then shrugged. “Like Seokjin.”

“Neither of us are ambivalent, Y/N,” he said seriously, finally meeting my eyes head-on. “We both grew up seeing all the corruption and didn’t see any ways of making it better. Rather than ambivalent…we became cynical.”

I smoothed down my skirt, thinking. “I bet you’re not the only ones to become disillusioned,” I said, recalling that letter on my coffee table with a scowl. “Sometimes all we can do is accept that things are messed up and try to do the right thing on our own.”

He shook his head. “But what if I can’t accept that anymore?” he asked, brows knit as he implored me with his tender gaze. “What if I’ve been accepting it to avoid doing the right thing? Because the right thing is hard?”

I blinked at him, disarmed by the vulnerability in his eyes. “Yoongi…”

“I don’t deserve a free pass,” he said, serious as he scanned me. “Not when people are getting hurt.”

“What do you plan on doing?” I asked, raising my brows.

He settled back against his seat and his jitters slowed, knees stopping their anxious bounce. He anchored his gaze on something far away, perhaps something not physically here at all. “I’m gonna fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“The company,” he said with a steady nod. “From the inside. I’m gonna make it so that people don’t get hurt anymore. Like Ori.”

I watched him for a long moment, watched the way his jaw went staunch against his neck, and couldn’t help but admire his determination. Righteous outrage and a little bit of guilt. I exhaled in a puff and smirked, eyeing him sidelong. “Min Yoongi,” I said, and he glanced at me. There was an innocence in the rounds of his eyes, in the expectation in his parted lips. “You’ll do great,” I finished with a smile. I gave his shoulder a pat and nodded once.

He met my eyes and, slowly, a halfway there smile touched his features and he returned my nod. “Thanks,” he said, chuckling once, sharp.

“Excuse me?” called the receptionist, sounding uncertain. She had risen to her feet and was staring at us with her hands clasped in front of her stomach. She gave a smile I recognized from wearing it myself at work. “Mr. Min is ready to see you.”

I nodded and gave her a bow before catching Namjoon’s eye outside and jerking my head toward the elevator. He quickly stomped out his cigarette and rushed inside, smelling strongly of nicotine. I gave him a grimace and he responded with a smile, resting his hand on the small of my back and leading me down the hallway toward the elevator.

“Ah! Do you need help finding the office?” the receptionist called, craning her neck to peer after us.

Yoongi chuckled and shook his head, waving at her as he called for the elevator. “I think we’ll be okay. Thank you,” he said with a smile her way.

She blinked a few times before adjusting her hair and bowing, her head disappearing back around the corner. And, in silence, the three of us entered the elevator.

The CEO of Sanyo Industries was not the imposing man I was expecting. Perhaps I’d built him up as some sort of malevolent deity, but looking at him sitting in a chair that looked several inches too big for him, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, it was hard to see Mr. Min as the ruthless businessman I knew he was.

The office was spacious, like the reception area, and decorated with classic mahogany browns and deep reds. It looked like the sort of office you’d see in a rich man’s mansion. But Mr. Min himself didn’t quite match it. Mousy in the face with sallow skin and salt-and-pepper hair, he looked like someone’s quiet uncle, the one you only see at family get-togethers who you have trouble even making small talk with.

He cleared his throat and stared up at Yoongi and I, raising his brows. “Son,” he began, then chuckled, rubbing his nose bridge and shutting his eyes. “Is this some sort of marriage announcement?”

Yoongi sighed. “You’d know about any marriage before I would, Dad,” he said, eyes going dull.

“Well then, what brings you two here?” he asked, eyeing me. “And furthermore, who are you if not a fiancé?”

I glanced at Yoongi, waiting for him to speak. But he simply kept his eyes ahead, perhaps trying to tether himself to reality somehow. It wasn’t a part of the plan for me to be too vocal. And besides, I wasn’t so sure it was safe to speak much. If what yoongi said about his father was anything to go by, I’d be smart not to oppose him.

Namjoon had planned everything pretty meticulously. For the first time since arriving, I felt concerned that I’d mess up my role. And with Namjoon himself waiting outside the office so as not to spook Mr. Min right off the bat, I felt ill at ease with all of his attention squarely on me.

I played with the pendant on my necklace. “Uh,” I began, meeting the CEO’s eyes once more. “I’m, uh…I…work with Yoongi.”

He cocked a brow and smirked. “Ah, another criminal?” he asked, scoffing. “Really, Yoongi, when are you going to come to your senses and get serious?” His tone had taken a shift. Gone were the fleeting moments of jest and teasing. In its place was nothing short of frightful intensity, his gaze on Yoongi, boring into him through thin-rimmed glasses.

“Today,” said Yoongi, facing his father. “If things go well.”

Mr. Min leaned back and coughed a little, one of those innocuous old-man sounds that once again threw me for a loop. Was he any suburban dad you might see at the Han River or was he a cutthroat criminal?

“That’s…very good news,” he said, then eyed me with a scowl. “Although if you’re looking to get your friend a job, I can confidently say not a chance.”

I was nearly hurt by his comment before remembering just what sort of company he ran. I took my bruised pride and, clearing my throat, crossed my arms. “I’m not looking for work,” I said.

He hummed. “Well, Yoongi, I can’t say I’m unhappy to hear about your change of heart,” he said, giving Yoongi the ghost of a smile.

Yoongi cleared his throat and rubbed his palms together. “There’s a condition.”

“Condition?” asked Mr. Min, his expression darkening.

“Call off your hit on Ori.”

He chuckled. “You think having you under my wing is worth letting my biggest competitor go?” he asked, raising his brows. “That’s shockingly confident. Even for you.”

Yoongi shook his head. “No,” he said, locking eyes with his father. “I know that’s not enough.”

“Then what’s the rest of your bid?” he asked with a smirk. “You know you can’t prove I’ve got a hit on Ori.”

I cleared my throat and took a step forward, rifling through my bag to grab my phone. “That’s,” I began, but had to pause since my phone was hidden beneath my wallet. I chuckled to myself, nervous, and continued once I had my cell phone in my hand. “That’s where I come in.”

Mr. Min stared at me, but his teasing once again halted. Quietly, I pressed play on my cell phone. The recording played and I took the moment of respite to lean back, inelegant and unceremonious, to knock on the door twice, alerting Namjoon to his cue.

Mr. Min’s gaze went hard like obsidian and it locked on me. “That’s Kim Seokjin?”

Yoongi stepped forward, crossing his arms. “Take action against Jin and we’ll release the recording and tell the press. You might not be aware, but Y/N has become pretty intimately familiar with news outlets these days, being Vante’s secret woman and everything.”

Mr. Min’s face flushed and his eyes skittered between us like a cornered animal. “You’re her…,” he said with a nod. He rubbed his temples and an almost childish smile touched his face. Shutting his eyes, he nodded again as the door opened and Namjoon stepped inside. “You’ve outplayed me, haven’t you?”

Yoongi adjusted his cuffs and cleared his throat. “Sorry, Dad,” he said, sighing. “But I can’t sit back and watch you ruin people’s lives anymore.”

His father opened his eyes and they were sharp, angry, but there was a margin of respect in them. “So this is your offer? You come on under me and you don’t air Sanyo’s dirty laundry?”

Yoongi nodded once sharply. “Yes.”

He smirked and glanced at Namjoon who had taken the spot at my other side. “I suppose you’re here to discuss the logistics,” he said, chuckling. “You two can leave. This is a discussion between businessmen.”

Namjoon grinned and pulled out the plush chair in front of Mr. Min’s desk before settling in. “It is,” he said, turning around to smile at Yoongi and me. “I’ll meet you two downstairs when we’re done here,” he continued. Yoongi and I each turned halfway toward the door, and as my fingers clasped around the doorknob, Namjoon called, “Oh and Y/N?”

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Yes?” I asked, eager to leave the intimidating place.

He smirked. “Have your friend send her resume to my secretary. She’ll schedule her for an interview with my hiring department.”

A small smile spread across my face as I opened the door. I nodded and he returned it, grinning. “I will,” I said, leading Yoongi out into the hallway once more.

I awoke to pounding at my front door. Groaning, I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself upright on the couch. I must have fallen asleep shortly after returning home from Sanyo. Namjoon had emerged two hours later with a big grin and a new contract with Yoongi’s father stating neither company would attack the other moving forward. And although Namjoon hadn’t been the one to strike first, his strategic prowess had proven extremely useful as by the end Mr. Min was offering a collaborative project. Namjoon wouldn’t tell me whether he’d accepted the project or not, but I suspected I knew his principles well enough to know exactly where he’d told Mr. Min to shove that offer.

Yoongi had stayed behind to hash things out with his dad, and he told me not to worry about him. Of course, I worried anyway, because as his back retreated back toward the elevator, he looked so small. Too small for this big corporate world.

But my worries were quickly assuaged as he turned slightly before entering the elevator and shot me a playful smirk and a wink. As I moved to respond, he quickly hopped into the elevator and that was the last I saw of him.

Once I’d gotten home, I’d practically fallen into a puddle on the couch, turning on the TV and letting whatever cable show was on play as my mind wandered away from me. I wasn’t sure when I’d fallen asleep or how long I’d been out, but the knocking was incessant and demanding.

Groggy, I wandered toward the door and opened it without checking the peephole, rubbing the back of my head with a groan. “Hello?”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

I pried my eyes open and saw Taehyung fuming in the doorway. I furrowed my brow and blinked at him. “What time is it?”

He sighed. “It’s midnight. Why are you still dressed up?” he asked, finally scanning me before shaking his head and waving his hands. “No, that’s not important! Why did you keep this whole plan from me? Don’t I have the right to know?”

My senses had returned to me and, gently, I took his forearm and led him inside the apartment. He followed, albeit unwillingly, and pouted down at me. He was dressed in leisure wear, likely having run here from his apartment once Namjoon told him what happened without so much as grabbing a jacket.

I sat him down on the couch and smiled. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He opened his mouth to say something but shut it quickly with a sigh, gripping his nose bridge. “Shit,” he mumbled. “I can’t scold you if you apologize first.”

I laughed and nodded. “I know,” I said, then shook my head. “I really am sorry, for what it’s worth.”

He eyed me from between his fingers and cocked a brow. “Why didn’t you tell me, though? Really?”

I rubbed his arm with a smile. “I didn’t want you to take this on too,” I said. “With everything that happened with the gala…I figured you’d do something unnecessary again. You’d handle things on your own and demand I stay out of it,” I began, pausing to rub my hands together. “I know it’s annoying, but I thought that there had to be a way to fix things without someone sacrificing themselves.”

“What about your friend? That Yoongi kid? Didn’t he sacrifice himself?” he asked.

I chuckled, remembering that mischievous wink, that boy with his head in his computer, that guy who saved a stray dog and bought expensive food for it. “No,” I said, smiling. “He’s found something new to be passionate about.”

Taehyung sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I hate that I can see your point,” he said, shaking his head. “I wish I could’ve helped you more.”

Gently, I touched the pendant on my collarbone and smiled at him. “You did help, Taehyung,” I said, and his eyes flashed toward me. “More than you can possibly know. You showed me that I’m stronger when I speak out. That I have what it takes to advocate for myself.”

His shoulders slumped with a sigh and he glanced toward the coffee table where Mom’s letter still sat, wrinkled. “You would’ve figured it out on your own eventually,” said Taehyung with a pout.

I smiled. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t think I would have.” I sighed and watched the letter as if it might change the longer I looked at it. “It took you to shake it out of me.”

“Well…that’s one contribution at least,” he said with a sigh.

“It bothers me.”

He sat upright and stared at me wide-eyed. “Huh?”

I shook my head. “Not that you’ve been helping me, but that it took someone else pushing me for me to finally get myself together,” I said, brow furrowed as I leaned back against the couch cushions. I crossed my arms and stewed over it, still staring at the letter. “I feel like everything I’ve done has been because of either you or Jungkook.”

Taehyung stiffened. “Wait, what?”

I sat up and frowned. “Yeah. The more I think about it, the more annoyed I get,” I said, thinking about that stupid letter. If not for Taehyung, I probably would never have heard from my mom again.

“Y/N, you just got home from blackmailing a billionaire CEO,” he said, raising his brows. “I don’t think any of that had to do with me or Jungkook.”

I shook my head. “I dunno,” I said, trying to name the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Taehyung sighed and leaned into the couch, glancing up toward the TV. “What’re you watching?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, reclining beside him albeit uneasily as my thoughts kept swirling.

We both watched the screen for a moment and I felt the call of sleep beckoning again. Why with Taehyung did I always fall asleep? Perhaps he was a comfortable person. Our relationship had after all began when he left me trinkets while I slept at work.

“My agent wants me to start thinking about doing a documentary,” he said, like the thought couldn’t remain in his head.

I hummed. “Weird,” I said with a nod. “About you?”

“Yeah. Since public interest is so high right now, she thinks it might be a good time to start working on something,” he said, then shook his head. “But I don’t wanna be followed by a big film crew that I don’t know and everyone she’s suggested has been awkward.”

“Hm,” I said, resting my head against the back of the couch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I just want a small company, you know? If I’m going to do it, that is,” he continued, but his voice was growing more and more distant.

And before I knew it, I was asleep.

“Hey-wait, what the fuck?”

“Oh…sorry.”

“I…you…what are you even doing here?”

“I fell asleep.”

“Why were you here late?”

“Because I-…ah, forget it.”

I groaned and rolled over, tumbling off the couch and onto the rug. I stared up at the front door, the source of the noise, and saw Jungkook in the doorway. Smiling, I gave him a wave and pushed up to my bottom.

“Morning,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

Jungkook gave me a pout. “Don’t give me that cute face,” he said, jerking a thumb at Taehyung who, by that point, I’d only just begun to register as being in my apartment at all. “What’s he doing here?”

“He came over last night to scold me,” I said, standing to my feet with the help of the coffee table. My fingers brushed Mom’s letter and I recoiled like I’d touched a hot stove.

“Scold you?” asked Jungkook, eyes round. He tuned to Taehyung and frowned. “Why were you scolding her? And why didn’t you do it during business hours?”

“Jungkook,” I said, laughing as I approached. I gave his shoulder a pat before breezing past him into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I’d slept in my work skirt and blouse, so both were horribly wrinkled now. Great, and I still had to get to work in a few hours. “What are you doing here, Kook?” I called out into the hallway.

But to my surprise, both boys had followed me in to the bathroom and were beginning to cram themselves into the small space with me. I shouted as Jungkook shoved my pelvis into the countertop with his hip so he could perch on the toilet seat. Taehyung left a more reasonable distance between us and lingered in the doorway.

“I heard about what happened with Yoongi. Jin told me Yoongi’s leaving Bangtan and gave me an out too,” he said, then gave Taehyung a cautious look. “Can I talk about this with him?”

I chuckled and nodded, swishing my mouth with water. “Mhm,” I said.

Taehyung hummed. “So you’re leaving the shady business?”

Jungkook, his defenses lowering, nodded and returned his eyes to me. “Yeah. I want to do what I love instead.”

“What do you love?” asked Taehyung.

“I wanna make movies,” said Jungkook with a soft smile. “I bet you’d get it, being an artist and everything.”

Taehyung smiled and nodded. “Boy do I,” he said with a sigh. “Deciding to leave home and go it alone was really tough, but once I did it I never regretted it. Not even for a second.”

Jungkook grinned. “That’s comforting to hear, at least.”

I glanced between them a few times as the beginnings of a scheme began working in my brain. “You two are actually really similar, now that I think about it,” I said with a nod.

Jungkook scoffed. “No way,” he said with a snort.

I shot a warning glance at him and he quieted down. “I mean it,” I said. “You both see beauty in the ordinary and want to capture that.”

Taehyung raised his brows. “Is that something you’re interested in, Jungkook?”

He pouted and shrugged, watching the floor. “Yeah, I guess.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Man, I wish I would’ve known sooner! I take photos, so if you ever want to go and get some material, I’m free.”

Jungkook glanced up with wide eyes. “Huh?” he asked.

Taehyung nodded. “Yeah. Video is really dynamic, but I don’t have an eye for it. I’d love to see your process.”

Jungkook smiled, just a little, and sat up straighter. “Wait, you mean it?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Taehyung with a laugh. “Give me your number and we can plan something.”

I smiled knowingly and leaned back against the wall so the two could exchange contact information. “You know,” I began, rubbing Jungkook’s shoulder. “Jungkook’s working for a film company now.”

Jungkook stiffened. “N-Not yet! I just sent off my video, but-,”

“But you’re in. I saw that video, Kook. And, as an art curator, I’m telling you it’s good,” I said.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide. “For real?” he asked.

Jungkook shrugged, his knees spread wide as he sat slumped slightly. “Yeah. Probably, anyway.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Well…I might have a really big project for you guys if you’re interested.”

Jungkook stiffened. “What?”

“Let’s chat about it today. Y/N, do you mind if I steal him for a while?” asked Taehyung.

I smiled and gestured toward Jungkook with both hands. “He’s all yours.”

Jungkook glanced up at me, wide-eyed. “Wait, what’s happening?”

I chuckled. “Meet me after work, okay?” I asked with a smile, patting his shoulder as I slid past both of them to get ready for my shift.

As I was getting ready to leave work, I noticed a few text messages on my phone from while I was working. Smiling, I unlocked it and read over the text.

Nararawr: I’ve got an interview with Ori.

Nararawr: The receptionist said I had to interview properly if I wanted the job, no handouts.

Nararawr: IDK you did, but…thank you. I’ll be sure to do my best!

Nararawr: Yoongi came by my class on Monday. I assume that’s also your doing :P

Nararawr: He said he had some things to explain to me, so we’re meeting up on Friday to talk about everything. Methinks it’s a…*gasp*…DATE?!

Nararawr: At any rate, thank you. I won’t waste this opportunity. Thank you for letting me get this myself. I appreciate you more than I say.

I ran a finger along my screen and chuckled. Of course he’d gone. I knew he would. Gently, I typed out a response.

Y/N: Hey, I didn’t do much. I’m just glad everything worked out. Let’s meet up on Saturday to chat! I’ve also got some things to explain to you. And besides I wanna hear about you…*gasp*…DATE?!

I smiled and slid my phone into my purse, removing my ascot and stuffing it inside along with it. The shift was quick, quicker than usual as I’d been scheduled during a busier time of day. The midday rush had died down by the end, and Areum gave me a four-fingered wave goodbye as I made my way back toward the exit from the break room. But as I stepped into the hall, Mr. Kwon jogged up behind me and grabbed my shoulder. I jumped a little and spun around to face him.

“Y/N! Thank God I caught you,” he said with a breathless laugh.

I smiled and gave him a bow. “Is there anything I can help you with, Sir?” I asked.

“If you have time, I’d love you to join me for a meeting right now,” he said.

“With who?” I asked.

“It’s-,” he began, but paused with a chuckle.

He grinned and glanced over my shoulder as the elevator dinged and out walked a few familiar faces. No way. Two of the Japanese philanthropists I’d sold paintings to all those weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime. I bowed deeply at each of them.

“Hello,” I said once I stood upright once more.

“Ah! Are you going to be in the meeting as well?” asked one man with a smile.

I took a peek at Mr. Kwon who gave me an encouraging nod and a smile, and turned back to the philanthropists. “Um…yes,” I said with a smile.

“Wonderful!” he said. “I was telling Mr. Kwon that we’d love to have you.”

“Have me…?” I began, but Mr. Kwon simply laughed and shuffled me back into the gallery, leading all of us to his office.

I stared at the letter on my coffee table, now dressed in my favorite turtleneck and the same skirt I’d worn to meet Jungkook for our study date, months and months ago. Any minute, he’d show up in his car, awaiting my arrival so we could go somewhere. Anywhere.

And still, here I was. Staring at that stupid letter. What did I think would happen if I kept looking at it? Would it suddenly sprout wings and fly away? Would it burn up in flames?

My phone buzzed and I knew he was here. I leapt to my feet and, without thinking, swiped the letter and pocketed it before rushing out the front door to meet Jungkook downstairs.

Jungkook and I sat beneath the dome stars, resting on a blanket in the grass at a park by my apartment. One I hadn’t been to in a long time. Neither of us was saying much, not after the initial flood of information exchange. How he was going to be in touch with Taehyung regarding that documentary, how the two are actually pretty compatible, how everything had gone with Yoongi at Sanyo.

Now there was just silence. The comfortable kind.

I knew I had to tell him about what had happened in the meeting today. If anyone needed to know, it was him.

But I let myself indulge in the silence for a moment longer. “My mom wrote to me,” I said, resting on my palms as I stared up at the fresh, cloudless autumn night sky. Stars splayed out like paint splatters.

Jungkook glanced at me, eyes wide. “She did?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. She wants to meet me.”

“She…she does?”

“Yeah,” I said with a chuckle. “I thought…I thought I might feel really vindicated when this moment finally came, but I kinda just feel…empty.”

“Empty…,” repeated Jungkook softly.

I nodded. “Because she wants to meet with me to get to Taehyung,” I said with a nod. “Isn’t it a little pathetic? Reaching out to your estranged daughter once she can benefit you?” I chuckled. “And what’s more pathetic is that I’m actually considering going.”

“Y/N,” said Jungkook softly, chiding. “I’ll support whatever choice you make,” he said, eyes boring into me intently.

I smiled and leaned toward him, giving him a chaste peck, and nodded. “Thank you,” I said with a sigh. “You know, it’s been bothering me for a while now,” I said, touching the ruby necklace where it met my skin. “I wonder what I’d be on my own. Who I’d be. Without you or Taehyung or Dad or Nara or anyone supporting me.”

“That’s a sad thought,” said Jungkook softly.

I shook my head. “It’s not,” I said. “I wanna know, Jungkook. All my life…I’ve been holding on to people so tight that I forgot I’m also a person worth holding on to. I forgot that I’m a person at all.”

Jungkook reached out and laced our fingers gently, inching closer. “I understand.”

“And I appreciate you for that,” I said, chuckling. “But…I wanna know what I’m made of when I’m on my own. Up until now, the only thing making me move forward has been circumstance. I haven’t done anything by myself. I haven't grown because I actively wanted to become better, but because I’ve been forced to through my relationships with you. With Taehyung. With Namjoon. With…everyone.”

Jungkook nodded. “You wanna stand on your own two feet.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna see what you’re capable of,” he said, smiling.

I smiled too. “Which is why I’m gonna take a job offer in Japan.”

Jungkook coughed a little, sputtering, before staring down at me with wide eyes. “Wait, what? Where the hell did that come from?”

I laughed. “Today, my boss at the gallery offered me a year-long position at a new gallery they’re opening in Tokyo. He’s been having these talks with a bunch of philanthropists who I sold paintings to. I guess they really wanted to have me on the team at least for the first year to train new employees. I’ll be done with my degree in a few months anyway and I’ll be a manager,” I said, watching his expression change from shock to something like respect, mingling with a tinge of sadness.

“I…Y/N, that’s incredible,” Jungkook said, laughing as he swept me up in his arms. “I mean, I’ll miss you like hell but this is an amazing opportunity. You’d be crazy not to take it.”

I smiled and held on to him tightly, inhaling the sweet, gentle scent of his cologne, feeling the firm expanse of his chest. He rubbed my side, tender, and pulled back to press his palm against my cheek, smiling. “Let’s call it…our test period,” I said with a grin. He raised his brows. “After everything that happened, I can’t say I trust you one-hundred percent.”

He nodded. “I get it.”

“So…this year abroad,” I began, resting my hand atop his as he smoothed his fingers against my cheek. “If we still feel the same way about each other when I get home, then we can start again. For real this time.”

He swallowed hard and smiled, his thumb rubbing circles into my warm skin. “A test period,” he repeated with a nod. “I know I’ll pass.”

I laughed and gave his stomach a poke. “Don’t get cocky. I also have to pass,” I said with a smile.

“I’ll make sure you pass,” he said with a wink.

I shoved him away and stuck out my tongue, miming gagging. “We’ll see,” I teased.

He smiled. “I’m really proud of you,” he said.

I raised my brows. “You are?”

He nodded. “A few months ago, you wouldn’t be able to take this opportunity. You would have held yourself back and let it go to someone else.”

I blinked at my lap as I thought. “I…I guess so, huh?”

“The you from before…I don’t think the you today would like her much,” he said with a chuckle. “Do you?”

The letter suddenly felt heavy in my pocket, like it was burning a hole. Without another word, I pulled it out and stared at it, off-white, worn at the corners. And I took it in both hands before yanking each corner, tearing it clean in half. And again. And again. And again and again until the pieces were small as confetti. Then I opened my palm and let the gentle, chilly breeze carry the scraps away, gone forever into the streets of Seoul.

“That was brave,” said Jungkook from beside me, rubbing my back.

I smiled, a sense of ease washing over me, and turned to him. “I’m about to do something braver,” I said, meeting his curious eyes with a smirk.

I reached out and clamped both hands on his cheeks. He gasped a little as I yanked his face down to meet mine. I tried to convey with a kiss exactly what I needed him to understand. That he wasn’t a bad person, just lost for a while. That he deserved to be happy. That he was strong and smart and talented and so full of potential. That what I felt for him wasn’t something transient, like receipts, like a memo. That it was forever.

He leaned into the kiss, deepening it slightly with a tilt of his head. His lips were sweet with chapstick and soft, never pushy, gentle always. And as I slowly let my fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, I felt him growing flushed, the heat from his face reaching mine through the small fraction of space between us.

Slowly, I pulled away and met his eyes, smiling. “I love you, too,” I said finally.

His eyes glittered with growing moisture and he smiled slightly, scoffing. “Jeez, baby,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You surprised me,” he mumbled.

I chuckled and reached around to the clasp on my necklace, removing it and holding it in my fingers. Slowly, I took his hand and flipped it palm up. I dropped the necklace and smiled at him.

“What’s this about?” he asked, eyeing me.

I closed his fingers around the necklace and patted his fist. “Hold on to that for me,” I said. “And don’t give it back to me until I come back from Japan.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll only take it back when I’ve proven that I can stand on my own two feet,” I said with a nod.

He furrowed his brow before meeting my gaze once more. “You want me to keep this for a year?”

I smirked. “It’ll also keep other girls from getting too cozy if they see that in your room.”

He gaped. “Y/N!” he shouted. “You really think I’m gonna be seeing other people while you’re gone?!”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Wait…are you gonna see other people?!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger my way.

“I dunno,” I repeated, giggling.

He frowned and leaned down to press a pouty kiss to my lips. “You’d better not or I’ll fly over there give you an earful.”

I laughed, ruffling his hair. “One year…are you sure you like me enough to hold out that long?”

His expression softened and he took my hand in his, pressing a kiss to my palm. “That much and more,” he said gently. “I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

And with that, I smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. I didn’t know where life would lead us, or what might change in a year. I wasn’t sure how I’d tell Dad, how I’d tell Nara. But I knew enough. I knew that the people in my life were good, that they deserved to be beside me. I knew that the ones who walked away from me weren’t meant to stay, and that they weren’t meant to come back either. I knew that the person I was becoming was someone I could finally believe in. And I knew that I could trust the people I loved to be there, always.

[kazashiniwielder]

944

So while I am in awe of what happened with Killer I gotta say, I loved this chapter. Because it showed so much. This chapter clearly focused on two people, ironically enough it was mostly about Zoro and Killer, the two non captains and non devil fruit users of the Worst Generation.

So this isn’t going to be in order, and is actually going to be a little over the place but please bear with me. So we have Queen’s ‘game’. This is intense as shit because Queen intends to put Luffy in a situation where he would have to watch two people he considers rivals die or die himself but already flat out admits that none of them will leave alive. Like no matter what a combatant picks, it is pure torture. They would have to watch someone they know die and live with the guilt for the rest of their short life OR die knowing that they couldn’t even save those people and knowing that all they did was just die first so they wouldn’t have to watch. Like that is seriously f*cked up! Thank god it’s Luffy that is in that ring, but just imagine the people before him put through that!

Then we have Kid and Killer. So Killer is the guy who fought and wounded Zoro. I guess that explains a lot, especially now that we know that Killer was fed a SMILE devil fruit (ignoring the fact that Zoro is now the ONLY member of the Worst Generation who has not eaten a devil fruit). Now Kid was a character that I suspected had a soft side to him. Obviously not to civilians, and not to the marines, but he did say back in Sabody that the innocent people they killed were the people who laughed at them and their dreams. Now I’m not saying that excuses it, because it sure as hell doesn’t, but it does tell us that Kid is so passionate about those he cares about, that he will kill someone for laughing at those he cares for. Then we learn Killer is a person who hated his laugh and hated his face, so he stopped laughing and he hid his face. After he was fed the SMILE fruit though, the mask came off and he was always smiling. Whatever they did to Killer was horrible and Kidd is pissed! He is ready to murder them all, and his anger was so much that he was willing to charge in there, despite having cuffs that weakened him, to get some kind of payback for his loyal partner.

Then we have Zoro in the Capital. Before I focus on him I do want to draw attention to the panel of Hiyori after her former boss stopped Zoro’s attack. That will probably come back in the future, but we’ll ignore it now. Anyway, Zoro is furious. He genuinely liked his new friend and is furious at his death. He’s furious that everyone is laughing at it, and he’s furious that another friend is put in danger. So he does what he always does and charges in, right along side Sanji. Now this is the first time the two have seen each other since the market place in Dressrosa, a long ass time ago! Obviously they didn’t address what happened because they are a little busy, something Zoro even says. That will probably come later too, but I want to talk about what did happen.

Zoro still trusts Sanji. He trusted Sanji enough to give him the kid, Toko, that he was trying to protect in order to go on the offensive. And Sanji still cares for Zoro, at least a little bit. Sanji is trying to keep the plan in tact and get everyone out of there in one piece. Meanwhile the rest of the crew are surprised to see Zoro, but also glad. After all when a fight breaks out, Zoro and Sanji are the first two behind Luffy that you want to have around. They are also ready to all jump into the fight with them. And Zoro, you see how much he trusts the crew. He handed Sanji Toko and told one of the crew members to cover his back then he prepared to attack and never once looked back, trusting them to do as he asked before they even responded (of course Franky responded almost immediately in voice and action). And Luffy, I gotta say I love him. He’s watching the whole thing on the t.v., cheering Zoro on!

And to top it all off, while everything is coming to a head, with Zoro, Sanji, Robin, Nami, Franky, Usopp, and Brook causing a ruckus with the samurai in challenging the shogun himself in the center of the capital and getting attacked by his ‘lap dog’ and men, and while Luffy is facing Queen’s rage and trying to find a way to save a drowning Killer and Kidd, what else could happen besides Big Mom with Chopper and Carrot come literally crashing in! I mean, I never was happier to see her in my life.

I can’t wait for next week! I can’t wait to see where this goes! I really wanted to use that joke about how it’s not over until the fat lady sings since she came crashing into the party, but the end of Whole Cake Island already took that one from me, so for now I guess I’ll just say that I cant wait to watch Big Mom wreck Queen’s shit!

[vincent-frankenstein]

Bloodbond - Chapter Thirteen

The last part of my entry for @ts-storytime!!

Chapter Summary: One bond is broken, and another takes its place. Virgil and Roman stand side-by-side and face an uncertain future.

Pairings: prinxiety, background joan/talyn

Warnings: I can't think of anything Really Bad in this one, but shoot me a dm if u need smth tagged!

Read on A03

{ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 }

art by @pattykrabbies {here} and @vdkstar {here}!!!

(cover by @vdkstar <3)

“Hey!”

Warmth. Soft, gentle warmth, and calming light to match. He groaned softly, shifting.

“Wake up, idiot. We’re back.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake, and the voice above him ripped with sarcasm and exhaustion and a dryness all its own, the accent wonderfully familiar. He felt a rush of relief as he opened his eyes, blinking in the scarlet light from the sky above.

“Virgil,” he breathed.

“Ugh, finally.” Virgil rolled his eyes, a certain fondness to his smirk that made Roman’s heart flutter. “You snore like a bear, you know that?”

“Lies and slander,” Roman said in mock-offense. His body ached, his thoughts slow and sore, but still he pushed himself to his feet, tearing his eyes from Virgil for a moment to survey their surroundings.

They sat in the shadow of the queen’s castle, just beyond the front door; but it was different, somehow, nicer. Lighter. He felt no rush of fear, no deluge of depressing thoughts — only a heavy tidal wave of relief. They’d made it out. They were okay.

“Roman!”

A blur of orange and white tore away from a tall man standing at the edge of the clearing and came at him faster than the fastest of spells, nearly knocking him over in their haste. Roman beamed, a relieved noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry tearing from his throat.

“If you ever fucking convince me to do something as stupid as this again, I’ll kill you.” Joan held him tightly for a moment, as though afraid he’d disappear, and then pulled away, crossing their arms. “And I mean that as lovingly as possible, you stupid f-word face.”

“Aww, come on, it all worked out in the end!” Roman said with a laugh. “And it seems someone made a new friend, too, so you got even more than we bargained for!”

He wiggled his eyebrows, nodding towards Talyn, who rolled their eyes but offered Joan a smile.

“So, uh… what were you saying about me being a traitor, again?” Roman whispered jokingly, his smile growing wider when Joan returned Talyn’s smile with a suspiciously red face.

“Shut up.”

Roman burst out laughing, stifling his giggles behind his hand as Joan glared, red-faced. He opened his mouth to tease more, but a sudden voice cut him off.

“... Son.”

Roman turned, looking up into the grizzled, scarred face of his father. King Odin stood tall, his face a kaleidoscope of distrust and uncertainty.

“Father,” Roman said, keeping his voice even, though his heart pounded warily in his chest. Internally, he cringed, waiting for the anger to overtake his father’s face, waiting for him to prattle on about demons and betrayal and whisk him away, away from his new friends and away from Virgil.

“What you did was incredibly reckless,” he began, his voice gruff. “You broke nearly a dozen of our kingdom’s laws. You teamed up with demons. Under normal circumstances, I would have you exiled.”

Roman found only cold defiance where he’d expected to find fear. “I also saved your life,” he snapped. “Have you ever considered that you might be, I don’t know, wrong?”

“Let me finish,” King Odin said harshly. Then, as a hesitant afterthought, “...please.”

Roman crossed his arms and nodded. King Odin sighed, dragging his gaze across the mismatched bunch of humans and demons before him.

“Under normal circumstances,” he repeated. “These are… not normal circumstances. You… all… saved my life. Your sentiment might hold… some truth, I suppose. You demons aren’t all... as bad as I thought.”

Roman’s eyes widened. Was he… admitting he was wrong? Roman hadn’t thought that was possible. King Odin was prideful and powerful and never wrong.

But today, King Odin was hesitant. “I may be willing to… reconsider my earlier viewpoints…” he said, his voice a low, halting growl. Roman gaped, spluttering. This was the last thing he had expected. “I still don’t trust them and I still don’t approve of your rescue methods, but… recent events must be taken into account.”

He faced Roman, and something new flashed through his eyes. “Roman, you… you did what you had to do to save me. You did what you knew was… right, and you stood up to me over it. You were strong, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted you to be.”

And then his father set a hand on Roman’s shoulder and offered something Roman had never seen from him before: a smile.

“I’m proud of you,” his father said — and Roman, for all he prided his loquaciousness, found himself stricken speechless. His father’s words echoed through his mind.

“I — thank you.” It felt amazing, hearing his father say the words he’d longed to hear for so long, and he knew this was all he had ever wanted — but he also knew that it wasn’t all he wanted anymore. He’d faced dragon-witches and sirens and foes so dangerous it was a wonder he was still alive. He’d literally traveled to hell and back. And he’d learned things, too, things about himself and about the word, and he’d realized; he wanted his father’s praise... But he didn’t need it anymore.

Because, sure, King Odin was proud of him… but he was proud of himself.

He glanced at Virgil, and brought his gaze across Sleep and Talyn and Joan, as though to remind himself that they were still there, that they were okay — and then, finally, his eyes landed on a stranger, standing at the edge of the group with his arm around Joan’s shoulders. He recognized him by the patch on his sleeves, the Gaepried crest surrounded by stars.

The Royal Mage.

He stood taller than Roman, smiling despite the remnants of blood streaked across the side of his face. A mess of freckles covered his round, tan face, as though he had been splattered there by a haphazard painter, and his hair was soft and golden-brown, the tips darkened with deep purple dye. He noticed Roman’s curious gaze and, drawing his arm from around Joan, stepped forward and offered his hand.

“I, uh, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet,” he began, his voice cheerful. “I’m the Royal Mage, Thomas. It’s an honor to meet you, your highness!”

“Ah, call me Roman,” Roman said, returning the mage’s kind smile. “And you have no idea how much I have gone through just to meet you.”

“To meet… me?” he asked, and Virgil snorted at his confused expression. “Why?”

“Well…” Roman exchanged a look with Virgil. “We have a small problem that we need your help with.”

“Small?” Virgil scoffed. “Understatement of the century.”

“Hush, Sir Snark-A-Lot.” Roman rolled his eyes. “So, Thomas, have you by any chance ever heard of a Bloodbond?”

Thomas gasped and nodded, eyes wide, and the group watched with rapt attention, ready for a story that Roman was all-too-happy to tell. He prided himself on being an excellent storyteller, and this time was no different; he touted the exciting parts and glazed over the less-than-ideal ones, spinning a story so grand he almost couldn’t believe he’d live through it. The sky above melted into a golden-scarlet sunless sunset as he wove his story; and at the end of it all, silence reigned.

“Wait, so — holy shit, that’s why…” Joan broke the silence a few charged moments later, eyes wide. “I am so sorry I was ever rude to you, man,” they said, addressing Virgil with an almost-teasing lilt beneath their voice. “Speaking from experience, for you to have dealt with him for so long like that… you’re braver than any Gaepriedian soldier.”

“Hey!” Roman cried, affronted, placing a hand over his heart as though he’d been wounded.

“Ugh, thank you. Finally, someone agrees with me about how annoying that little shit is.” Virgil’s voice shook with laughter. “Trust me, it was absolute torture.”

“I am right here!” Roman exclaimed, glaring when the two burst out laughing. But it wasn’t long before the corners of his own lips began to twitch, and he rolled his eyes as a begrudging smile spread across his face.

“Girl, you tried to cast a half-translated spell. I think they’re allowed to laugh at you.” Sleep leaned against a tree and offered Roman a teasing half-smile, his voice slow and honeyed as though he’d been close to catching his namesake.

“I’m not gonna lie, that was a pretty bad idea,” Thomas added, rubbing the back of his neck. Roman huffed, crossing his arms.

“Glad to see you all bonding over this,” he grumbled. “But really, if you’re done making fun of the best person out of all of you, I think we have more important matters to discuss.”

“I agree,” his father said. “I don’t approve of how you got into this mess, but it’s imperative that you get out of it.” He paused, and then… “And, obviously, I’m the best person out of all of you. That’s just a fact.”

“Oh, so that’s where he gets it from,” Virgil muttered with a roll of his eyes as Roman gasped loudly, offended. “But yeah, I’m with princey. Let’s get this figured out.”

“Princey?” Joan echoed. “Oh my god, I’m calling you that forever now.”

“Joan, no —”

“Anyway,” Thomas said insistently, cutting Roman off before he could argue. “I… I can definitely reverse that. Right now, if you want? It’s a complicated spell, but this place is filled with magic, so it shouldn’t be too hard. I just need something to write some runes with…”

“I have a pen,” Talyn offered, rummaging through their bag. Thomas smiled and began scribbling runes across his hand, instructing Joan and Sleep as they began spreading paper across the ground.

Virgil caught Roman’s eye. The look on his face was insistent, if a bit shy, and Roman pushed himself to his feet.

“We’ll, ah… we’ll be right back,” he said, and followed Virgil farther into the dead forest around them, the soft din of conversation behind them dulling to a charged silence.

“So.” Virgil stopped and leaned against a bare tree, his wings shifting behind him. “Once that human finishes the spell, you’ll finally be rid of me So, uh… this is goodbye, I guess.”

Roman blinked, a strange feeling spreading through his chest. Just a week ago, he would have given anything to hear those words, to be ‘free.’ But now? Now, the thought of saying goodbye, of never seeing him again... it hurt, in a strange, hot sort of way. Now… he didn’t want to leave.

“So I figured we should get… whatever it is we have to get out of the way… out of the way before…” He crossed his arms, the rose-shaped clasp on his borrowed cloak catching the sunset’s light and gleaming.

“Wait!” Roman said quickly, his voice almost cracking. “Why does this have to be goodbye? Won’t we… see each other again?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, regarding him strangely. “Uh-huh. Because we’re going to cast massive summoning spells every time we want to see each other, right?” He sighed. “Look. You’re going to go back to your kingdom, and I…” He looked around, eyes catching on the castle looming overhead. “I’ll go back to… mine, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“But —”

“But nothing, princey. I’m a demon, you’re a human, we can’t — it just doesn’t work like that. That’s not how things are.”

“But what if it didn’t have to be that way?” Roman exclaimed, louder than he’d intended, and Virgil startled, eyes going wide. “What if…” he said again, quieter this time, and stepped forward. Carefully, gently, he reached out and took Virgil’s hands, and though Virgil tensed at the contact, he didn’t pull away.

“Things are changing, Virgil,” he said softly. “We made them change. Queen Aliah is gone! And King Odin…” He thought back to his father’s almost-apology. “He’s finally seeing the truth. Just as I did.”

They were close, very close; Roman felt as though he could get lost in the depths of Virgil’s eyes. “Say what you will, but this isn’t goodbye. I can promise you that.”

Virgil held his gaze, soft pink spreading across his pale cheeks, and let out a soft breath. Time seemed to still — for a moment, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed besides Roman and Virgil and the space between them — and then Virgil let out a groan and averted his gaze, running a hand through his hair to hide his deeply reddened face.

“Ugh, you sap,” he groaned. “We couldn’t just have a normal goodbye, no, you had to go and make it stupid and heartfelt and… sweet…”

Roman laughed. “What can I say? I’m good at heartfelt moments.” A grin spread across his face and he raised his eyebrows. “Careful, Virgil, any redder and I won’t be able to tell the difference between your cloak and your face.

“Shut up,” Virgil hissed, swatting at him. “I’m not blushing, asshole, it’s just — it’s hot out.”

“Is it hot out, or is it just me?” Roman asked, his voice playfully wistful as he turned to gaze dramatically off towards the last dying rays of scarlet daylight. Virgil swatted at him again, growling.

“Fine!” he said. “This isn’t goodbye. Though if you keep being so annoying, it will be, got it?”

Roman’s grin became genuine, elated, and he relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. This wasn’t goodbye. “I can’t make any promises,” he said, and Virgil rolled his eyes.”

“Anxiety! Your h — ah, Roman!” Thomas’ voice cut them off before their soft conversation could continue, and Roman’s grin shrank into a small, gentle smile.

“You ready?” he asked. Virgil shook his head, a tiny smile finding its way onto his face — and Roman realized with a jolt in his heart that this was the first time he’d ever seen Virgil truly smile, no hint of sarcasm of self-deprecation in sight. His heart skipped a beat; he was beautiful.

“Nah,” Virgil said quietly. “...let’s do it.”

The group waited for them back in the clearing, standing around a makeshift runic circle, drawn in purple ink on a pile of assorted scrap papers. As Talyn bemoaned the loss of their pen, which had tragically run out of ink, Thomas smiled and spread his arms wide.

“It’s a bit messy, but it should work,” he said. He’d scribbled runes across his hands and up his arms, and they glowed softly as they channeled his magic. “You two, stand in the center. Everyone else, stand back. This is going to be… interesting.”

“If you kill us, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life,” Virgil grumbled as he stepped into the makeshift circle, the papers crunching beneath his feet. “Even if it’s an accident.”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never tried something like this before… but there’s no time like the present, right? Besides, I’m mostly sure you’ll be fine.” Thomas sat beside the circle, setting one hand in his lap, palm facing upwards, and the other atop the edge of the circle. It began to glow at his touch, colorful light swirling through the air, and little flames sparked to life around the edges.

Roman tensed as a strange feeling flooded through him, as though he’d been pumped full of electricity. The runic circle glowed brighter, sparks of magic dancing around them.

“Okay, when I finish the incantation, you two need to make some sort of contact, like… a high-five or something. Don’t stop until I say so!” Thomas glowed with his magic, shifting from red to green to purple in a dizzying rainbow as he began the spell.

Caught in a whirlwind of light and color, Roman’s eyes met Virgil’s. The outside world seemed to fade away, Thomas’ voice lost among the spell, and a silent conversation passed between the two in the span of a second — and suddenly, finally, Roman realized what the strange feeling was, what was causing his face to heat up and his heart to race, what he wanted more than anything else.

The magic around them swelled, and the electrical feeling grew. Suddenly, Roman felt the Bloodbond as he never had before: stronger, more insistent, tugging them closer. It filled every bone, every inch of his body, and they stepped towards each other as Thomas reached the end of his incantation.

“Now!” Thomas' voice sliced through the tornado around them — and they surged together, their lips meeting as the magic flared, a symphony of light and color to match the symphony swelling within them. Virgil’s fingers tangled through Roman’s hair; Roman tightened his hold around him as though afraid he’d disappear, because he couldn’t lose this, because this was right. Electricity flashed in curving arcs around them, within them, and they didn’t pull apart until well after the spell had ended and the tug of the Bloodbond had faded.

“Oh my — yas girl, get it!” Sleep was the first to respond, his hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered. Virgil tore his gaze from Roman and glared sharply.

“Shut it, Sleep,” he growled.

“You guys, I said like… a high-five,” Thomas said softly, eyes wide and disbelieving. Roman laughed.

“Go big or go home, am I right?”

“That was so fucking gay,” Joan said, clapping Roman on the back. Roman’s laughter grew.

“Well, duh. That was sort of the point.” Roman drew his arm from around Virgil and, after a moment’s hesitation, laced their fingers together. And god, his shy smile, the way pink spread across his pale face — it made the entire journey worth it just to get to this point.

“You two are like… modern day Romeo and Juliet. It’s cute,” Talyn remarked, pushing themself back to their feet and shoving their broken pen into their bag. Virgil scoffed.

“Nah, neither of us are idiots.” He paused, glancing at Roman. “You know what, nevermind, I take it back. This idiot would die if he wasn’t always doing something stupid.”

“Hey!” Roman gasped. “I thought we just had a bonding moment!”

“So?” Virgil smirked, one eyebrow raised. “Just because we love each other or some stupid shit like that doesn’t mean I can’t still make fun of you.”

“Aw, you love me?”

“Ugh,” Virgil groaned. “Shut up.”

As Thomas gathered the papers from the ground and the group began discussing how to get the humans home, Virgil and Roman drew away, following the base of the castle until they reached the front, until they could look down at the ruined kingdom spread beneath. The whole realm was about to change. Queen Aliah was dead, which meant…

“I guess this is mine now, huh?” Virgil leaned against the castle’s wall and slid down, sitting cross-legged.

“I suppose so.” Roman sat beside him, and felt as though his heart would burst when Virgil leaned into his side. “It’s rather ironic, don’t you think? All that time spent bashing princes, only to end up one.”

“Ugh. I still stand by what I said, princey. All princes are dumb.” He snorted. “That means I’ve been self-deprecating all this time? God, what a mood.”

“I’m almost offended,” Roman said, close to smiling. “Well, your highness? What are you going to do?”

“Ew. Don’t call me that.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I — shit, I don’t know. I can’t rule, I — I can barely take care of myself, let alone a whole kingdom. You should rule, you’re way better at being a stupid prince than I am.”

“Hey,” Roman chided softly, taking Virgil’s hand. “You may not think so, but you are a good leader. And a powerful mage. Though I hate to admit it, I… probably would have died on this journey if it weren't for you. You’re going to do wonderfully, my prince, and I am only a… a realm away if you’re ever in need of princely advice.”

That sent a pang through his heart. He hadn’t thought about it before, but it was true: they were going to be realms apart, constantly separated. When would they see each other again?

“A realm away? Ugh. That’s stupid,” Virgil mumbled. “I can’t… do this alone. I…”

He yanked a blade of ebony grass from beneath them and twirled it around his fingers, tapping his foot anxiously against the group. He seemed to consider something, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced first at Roman and then at the kingdom spread out beneath them.

“You… you know…” he began slowly, thoughtfully. “I could… use some help. A, y-you know, prince… consort or — or something.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a momentary smirk. “So if you know of any really stupid, annoying princes who could help me out…”

“I don’t know about really stupid, annoying princes, but… I do know of one stupidly handsome, annoyingly wonderful prince who would be… happy to assist.” Their eyes met and Virgil blushed, twirling the blade of grass so quickly that it was surprising it didn’t break. “If you’ll have him, that is.”

“Yeah,” Virgil breathed, relieved. “Yeah, I’ll have him.”

He held Roman’s gaze for a moment longer and then got back to his feet and set his hands on his hips, surveying the kingdom beneath them. In the rusty-red near-darkness of night, free of the queen’s fear curse, it almost looked… beautiful.

“Well?” Virgil turned to him, looking positively radiant beneath the deep red sky. “You ready to rule this hellhole with me?”

Roman climbed to his feet, smiling as he joined Virgil on the hillside. He couldn’t imagine the changes that would follow that day; that, in the months to come, the demon realm would prosper, that under their rule, the demon and human realms would finally know peace. Everything had changed.

But right now, all Roman could imagine, all he could think about was Virgil — Virgil standing before him, Virgil bathed in soft red light, Virgil who he’d spend the rest of his future with.

Virgil, who he loved.

He took Virgil’s hands in his own, bringing their faces close. As he gazed into Virgil’s eyes, he knew — this was what he wanted. This was what he needed. This was it — his happily-ever-after. Standing in the shadow of their castle, overlooking their kingdom, he brought their foreheads together and let out a breath.

“I couldn’t be more ready,” he said, and brought their lips together once more.

[hqvalentineexchange]

faq (edition 2020-2021)

Table of contents

General rules Doubts and concerns (before you sign up) Creating and publishing gift

General rules

Is a NSFW/R18 content allowed? 

No, sorry. Not everyone is comfortable with such a content, plus we have no way to confirm peoples’ ages and we don’t intend on exposing minors to this kind of content.

What else is off-limits?

Romantic relationships between minor and adult characters or family members (so minor/adult ships and incest). Some possibly trggering things could slip our minds at the moment though so if you have any concerns, please feel free to message us!

What can I make?

You can either draw a fanart or write a fanfic. There are no other options at this moment, because determining the minimum for things such as playlists and edits is difficult. Maybe it will change in the future, if there are next editions of this event!

I changed my URL. What should I do? 

Just send us an ask, email, message on Tumblr or any other social media (we linked them in our about!) with your previous and current URL. We’ll inform the person making your gift about the change.

I can’t find the URL of the person I’m making gift for. It shows me the URL is incorrect. What do I do?

Send us an ask, email, message on Tumblr or any other social media (we linked them in our about!). It is possible we didn’t send you an information about the change yet, or the person you’re making the gift for forgot to inform us about them changing their URL. 

Can I tell the person I’m making the gift for, that it’s me? 

Nope. Keep it a secret until the February 14th, when it’s a time for a big reveal. 

Can I message the person I’m making the gift for to get to know them and their preferences better? 

You can send them anonymous asks if they have Tumblr and enabled anon asks or anonymous asks on CuriousCat if they have one, but please, keep your identity and details about your gift a secret.

Doubts and concerns (before you sign up)

Is it a stricly shippy event?

No! We appreciate all the kinds of relationships in this house! It can be shippy, but it can be 100% platonic, too!

Do I have to make a work centered around Valentines? 

No, if the person you’re making gift for didn’t include it in their prompts. You can make a Valentine-centered work if you’re stuck and don’t have any inspiration tho. You can use the prompts:

❀ the first date or the perfect date if they asked for romantic relationships

or

❀ found family or all that glitters is not gold (as a methaphor for “not all love is romantic”) for platonic relationships instead, then.

Do I have to create a work for a pairing I don’t like?

Nope! We’ll match you with someone basing on relationships, favourite characters and the prompts/likes. We’ll do our best to make sure everyone is happy!

What if somebody drops out and someone won’t get a gift?

Hopefully some people will want to be a Pinch Servers - people who’ll make an additional gift in place of the person who dropped out. We’ll try our best to guarantee no one will be left without a gift. 

How can I contact you and how will you contact me?

You can contact us through Tumblr (we’ll answer asks on the blog), various social media and email (just email us back once we send out the match-ups), but we will always contact you through your preferred means of contact. There is a question in the sign-up form where you can specify how you want us to contact you.

I’m signing up through Tumblr. Do I have to sign up with my main blog?

No, you can sign up with your side-blog, too! Just add your main blog’s address in the brackets next to your side-blog’s URL in the sign up form, so we know it’s you.

Creating and publishing gift

I got informations about the person I’m making gift for! May you remind me what exactly the sections are? Do I have to follow all of them?

You don’t have to follow all of them! Only the favourite romantic/platonic relationships and prompts (with a small exception mentioned above in the “Doubts and concerns (before you sign up)” section and explained below once again) are mandatory to follow! Obligatory thing to do is also to avoid things listed in the triggers section and possibly not using the things from dislikes field.

Favourite tropes are there to guide you in the right direction. They help to gauge general likes of the person you're making the gift for. You can use them, but you don't have to!

Other romantic relationships are optional. You can use them as background relationship, but you don’t have to.

Little Things are small details and headcanons that aren’t exactly prompts, but would make the person you’re making a gift for smile. They can be general or linked with one of the things they listed in the “Prompts” section. Little Things™ can be only mentioned in passing or used somewhere in the background, be an important part of the work or not included at all, it’s entirely up to you.

Favourite characters are greatly appreciated! They’re usually part of the pairing anyway.

Triggers are absolute no-no, as I explained above.

Also remember that in dislikes you could list (besides characters, notps, AUs and other things) also the (possibly exagerated) tropes or headcanons that became widely accepted fanon, but not everyone likes!

Do I have to follow the prompts the person I’m making the gift for gave me? 

It’s highly recommended. But if you’re stuck and don’t have any inspiration, you can use the prompt the first date or the perfect date or found family or all that glitters is not gold (as a methaphor for “not all love is romantic”) instead. Don’t make up your own prompts, please. 

How does my gift should look like? What are minimum requirements?

If you’re creating an art: don’t create a small piece.

If you’re making digital art, the minimum is 1600x1200 pixels.

If you draw traditionally, the minimal size of paper sheet is A4, make sure the scan is in high quality (if you can’t make a scan - make sure the photo is in high quality too, sharp and with good lighting).

The sketches are not allowed, the piece has to be finished - either colored or monochromatic. 

If it’s multi-part comic, publish the first part between February 14th-21st and finish it later.

If you’re writing fanfiction: at least 1500 words.

It can be a collection of drabbles, too, but the word count for all the drabbles in total has to be at least 1500 words, too.

It can be an oneshot or multichapter, but please, if you’re writing a multichapter, publish the first chapter between February 14th-21st and finish it. 

Are we allowed to include profanity in the fics?

Sure! Just put a warning (regardless if it will be “literally one f-word” or “[character A] swears a lot” or something else), just in case.

It’s not allowed to write NC18. That is rate E on AO3. What about T and M? Not too much mature content of course but like… can we briefly mention it? Or go into it smoothly? For example are we allowed to write detailed kissing/ little bit of make out?

We think make-out sessions and detailed kissing are okay as long as that’s where it ends.

Can I make more than one gift? 

Of course!

When we exchange gifts are we just going to send them to our assigned person or are we going to send them to you first oooor are we going to do it another way?

It’s up to you, to be honest! You can:

a) submit your gift here and we will publish it when the time comes (you can find recommended formating in the question below),

b) post it on your own blog (you can find recommended formating in the question below),

c) post only the link to it - for example if you’re writing fanfiction and you publish it on AO3, FF.net or whatever platform you use,

d) if you decided to post your work outside of Tumblr, you don’t even have to make a separate post to share it here, you can also send the link in private message.

There are only two rules regarding posting the gift:

1. If you’re posting it outside of Tumblr, don’t do it before the posting date (so you can’t post it for example February 10th and then share the link on February 14th. You should post it Febraury 14th (or later, but the deadline is February 21st) and then share the link right away. If you know you’ll be busy then, consider publishing it on Tumblr first (because you can queue it), and only then sharing it on the outside platform later, too).

2. If you’re not tagging this blog using “@” nor using the tags (you can find more in detail explanation in the question below) or you’re using the way from the point d), send us a message that you did share your gift (more details below).

Is there a special format I should use while posting my gift? 

Not really. Just make sure that you tag the person you’re making the gift for by using the “@” and, if you want us to reblog it to this blog, tag your work with #hqvalentineexchange or #hqvalex2021 in the first five tags. Just remember - Tumblr is sometimes a meanie and doesn’t show posts in the tag, so if you tagged your work properly and we didn’t reblog it, shoot us an ask or a message to one of the mods. You don’t have to link to the event blog, but it would be greatly appreciated.

Though if you’re writing a fic - you can include a pairing, rating and word count, and consider putting the story under a read more for convenience of others. You also should include the things that can potentialy trigger others, even if the person you’re making the gift for is fine with such content (for example - the person you’re making the gift for asked for super angsty and dramatic zombie apocalypse au with a happy ending. You should warn others there’s violence and blood, and maybe gore, even if your giftee is absolutely fine with it). 

I published the gift! Is that all?

Well, yes! Just one more thing - if you have sent the gift or the link to it in private message or didn’t @ this blog or didn’t use the tags we recommended in the question above, please, let us know via email, ask or private message on one of our social media that you did share the gift, so we can keep track of if everyone got their present!

Feel free to send us an ask, if you still have any questions!

[captainignatiuspigheart]

Wow, the last couple of weeks alternating surging heat and grim weather has thorough melted every bit of my desire to do anything, including remembering the time before the heat haze. Still – we shall prevail! It was a quietish couple of weeks in any case, though did have a couple of cool things in it. Not least that I’ve been able to live outside in my gazebo office, and keep a close eye on our ridiculous cats and their shade seeking antics. We were all sad when the thunder and hailstorms drove us inside… Taking keen note of the foul weather I finally picked up some serious LEGO storage towers and did some reorganising. They don’t take up less space, which is unfortunate, but I can access key bricks sets much more easily!

Big fella in a hedge

Little lady in her rooftop fort

Last week turned out to be a mini podcast week, so I’ve spent more time talking than usual (taking up precious drinking time, alas). More We Are What We Overcoming, which has become a cornerstone of my fortnightly routine, and really does help me think about how I feel and how I’m behaving in this quarantini time. That’s not the same as actually changing my behaviour, but being aware that I’m doing little but drinking and sighing at the sun is a start… My other half and I were also interviewed for the Knot Ready podcast: a look at marriage from a modern, feminist perspective, since we’re nearly twenty-two years into a non-marriage we have some insight into why folks may not get married, or at least, possibly, why we haven’t. It was a lot of fun to chat about how we got together (half a lifetime ago!) and other stuff. I’ll definitely remember to share when our episode is out, but you should subscribe to the podcast anyway because Lucy is pretty ace and it’s a genuinely interesting subject.

View this post on Instagram

I am KNOT READY 💍😘 . I am ready to tie the knot! I am lucky enough to have found an amazing person who makes my life better and who I want to commit to fully 💕 . So when I say I'm freaked out by marriage – it's not a commitment thing! . I'm freaked out that this institution, this human invention, controlled by religion and the state and shaped through time by patriarchal narratives, has become synonymous with romantic love, and not just culturally but for me personally! Something has got it into my head that our relationship is incomplete without marriage, despite suspecting on an intellectual level that nothing much will change afterwards. . Why am I spending a silly amount of money on one day? Why did it make me sad to not be engaged to my person? Why is marriage so important to me? . Freaky questions! For some answers, turn to Knot Ready 💍😘 Episode one comes out this Friday! Link in bio to subscribe or learn more 💖

A post shared by Knot Ready (@knotreadypodcast) on Jun 23, 2020 at 12:13am PDT

We’ve also seen a few more genuine humans in the meatspace, a thing which makes me feel ever so odd. I suspect that I have been at home for too long… But we had a lovely slow wander around the University Park lake and a bit of the radically altered campus up the back of the Portland Building. Lots of baby birds, and our friends’ new baby of their own.

Building: LEGO Hidden Side’s Newbury Haunted High School #70425

OK, so I built this ages ago, but it’s really pretty. Thing is, in its standard configuration it sprawls a little wide, and is distressingly not quite a modular building. So I fixed it! My goal was for it to fit in with the other modular buildings, but of course it’s four studs wider than a baseplate, so something had to go. In my first attempt I tried to compact the bay windows but made a horrible mess, so dismantled the whole thing and rebuilt it using the instructions and deviating where necessary. Where necessary was a bit of a pain – to keep the play functions I needed to keep the bay windows and the full width of the clock tower. My only viable option was removing the four silver unicorn spires with their supporting arches, and that hasn’t really hurt the build much. I’m not super-happy that the decorative ground floor arches are now somewhat obscured, but I’m chuffed with the overall result. That it gave me a chance to go nuts on a swirly tiling pattern in coral pink was a massive bonus. I’ve kept all the play features, but lost some of the details inside. I may remove all the worn detailing too and just have a lovely school in between the detective’s office and the bank. As was noted in the Brickgeekz Facebook group, its colours do rather resemble the now-exceedingly rare Town Hall which I could never quite afford. Win!

Four studs too wide…

It fits!

Beautiful flooring

Play features intact

Watching: Space Force

This is certainly quite fun. A show about Trump’s cretinous “space force” which supposedly satirises the idea, but instead gets caught up doing a sort-of sincere NASA knock-off to get Americans back on the Moon. It doesn’t seem to be sure what it’s taking the mickey out of, leaving the comedy unfocused and swaying madly in each episode. The characters are pretty stock fodder: uptight air force general played by Steve Carell, who looks rather lost, desperate to make it funny by crashing in and out of character while relying heavily on clearing his throat to cover all forms of emotion; very smart scientist guy who isn’t that great with people in the remarkable form of John Malkovich, who shows off his comedy chops nicely (largely by staying in character); total arsehole PR guy Ben Schwartz, who is utterly hateable (in a good way) but of course redeems himself, sort of; space force pilot/astronaut Tawny Newsome, desperate to get on the moon and be somebody; the air force general’s neglected daughter who just wants to have some fun / get any attention at all from her dad. The supporting cast do a great job too, but the tone constantly swinging from idiots messing up the mission to “hurray USA” sentiment leaves them all out in the cold. It’s just odd. I did enjoy the show, and it certainly has some splendid moments, mostly as they get towards the moon landing itself, but I’m not going to be racing back for season two. The Chinese are the main rivals in this new space race, and it’s a bit… broad… for 2020.

Doing: We Are What We Overcome

The next of our “lockdown specials”, lovingly recorded by Zoom and broadcast live in Facebook. Didn’t quite work last week, for no clear reason, so we popped it up on Tuesday instead. We talked about the thorny subject of change, which we seem to have to deal with all the damned time! It’s an interesting issue, covering not just what change is and how it feels, but how we learn (or don’t learn) to deal with it. All terribly pertinent and that. We came back yesterday Monday 19th to discuss how we feel about the easing of lockdown (or whatever the fuck this shower of wank called a Tory government are doing): check that one our here: Facebook Live.

Kickstarter Reward: Munchkin Bricks 2

With all the global lunacy I’d quite forgotten these were on the way! The last-but-one project of Guy Himber, aka CrazyBricks. These are pretty silly accessories and things to accompany the equally silly Munchkin card/boardgame. I just thought they were really cute, god knows what I’m going to do with them. Particular favourites for me are the chibi cthulus (some may become gifts for others…) and the splendid octobricks!

Swag

Swagger

You should definitely check out his current project, which is already very well funded and heading for far-reaching stretch goals: Dino Dudes! Yep, it’s just what it sounds like. Go get em! Nicely covered here by the excellent Beyond the Brick channel:

Reading: Provenance by Ann Leckie

My first Leckie, having not yet gotten around to reading the acclaimed Ancillary Justice series, though this one is set in the same universe. It’s perfectly fine small-scope space opera, focusing on a young woman’s attempts to secure her future (by being named as heir to a senior politician – her adopted mother in a society with interesting communal creche arrangements) by breaking a thief out of prison and lording her victory over her brother. The thief has apparently nicked some precious vestiges, Leckie’s intriguing concept of highly-prized mementoes of the past, which might be anything from an actual artifact, eg a bell used in the first summoning of parliament, to a signed bus ticket on a special day. The Hwaean people are obsessed with the things, and it would be a terrible shame if they turned out to be fake… There’s lots of running around with aliens and robots and occasional murder of diplomats and so on, all risking the failure of a super-important peace accord between humans and some potentially terrifying aliens. Provenance is neatly written, though it loses something in having the plot summary on the back cover take only the first chapter or so to resolve, leaving me unsure where it was going after the exciting sounding heist was dealt with so quickly. It never quite recovered for me, which definitely confirms that I should not read the back cover of books I’m about to read. The author’s interest in diversity and multiple genders, modes of address and interesting social set ups are fun and satisfying to read about, so I suspect I’ll enjoy getting properly into the Ancillary Justice vibe; I just shouldn’t have started here.

More LEGO. SCUM: A Star Wars Story

I’ve now built the main cast of our Star Wars RPG! Clockwise from top-left: my Tusken raider with savaged translator droid strapped to my back, Jon’s Twi’lek bounty hunter, Ben’s Nautolan hacker, Diarmuid’s hapless and much abused Imperial officer, Joe’s GH7 medical droid (a real delight to assemble) his Mandalorian bodyguard (played by Charlie). It’s fun! Now I wanna build some of our missions…

Watching: Agents of SHIELD season 4

I’m sure you’re growing weary of this, but Agents of SHIELD is a goddamned delight. Best show on TV? Maybe. (Warning: many spoilers ahead.) This was the last of the seasons that I’d seen before, so was by far the most familiar. And yet, in the style of all their seasons, a MILLION things happen, overwhelming any sense I had of how long any of the events took. To give you some idea of just how wild this season is, we go from introducing Ghost Rider, in a surprisingly coherent way, to another Avengers nightmare of AI coming to life and taking over various characters with robot duplicates (in this case, Ada, built by splendid returning cast member John Hannah), followed by an incredible immersion of the main cast in a vast virtual reality “The Framework” (built by Ada, John Hannah, and Fitz) a terrifying alternate reality where Hydra has won and rules the world, busily oppressing and annihilating inhumans so that Ada can build herself a real body. Jesus Christ, it’s a lot. Add to that a new director of SHIELD, the ongoing friction between SHIELD and the inhumans vs the rest of the world, plus god knows what else that I’ve forgotten, and I’m happily mindblown. Of course, it’s also the doomed FitzSimmons romance show too, as those two get yet another absolute kicking when we see that Fitz is the chief Hydra scientist, experimenting and murdering all sorts of folk, like Simmons… How will they put themselves back together? Who the hell knows because at the end of this season most of the team is abducted and wake up in SPACE! In truth I’m already a good way into season 5 and I could not be happier.

Doing: MissImp’s virtual improv comedy drop-in

I’ll admit, I’m as behind on these as I am on everything else… First up, The Tiny Glass Person with Feña Ortalli:

Followed by the marvellous David Escobedo in Discovering Your Dynamics:

Last Week: LEGO, Knot Ready, Space Force, Provenance, MissImp, CrazyBricks, Agents of SHIELD, We Are What We Overcome… many things! I’ve gotta get back to doing this weekly… TV, books, much LEGO, some improv and podcasts. https://wp.me/pbprdx-8Gx Wow, the last couple of weeks alternating surging heat and grim weather has thorough melted every bit of my desire to do…

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

The Parting Chapter Four

Description: The only certainty in life is death, and it seems to follow Park Jimin. All his life, the icy shadow of death has hung closely by his side, along with the shadow of…something else. Reapers exist to guide the souls of the living to the world beyond. But what happens when a particular Reaper tampers with the natural order and saves a mortal boy’s life? What will they do once their fates become inextricably linked?

Genre: Supernatural, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jimin x (f) OC

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Flower Shop Owner!Jimin, Reaper!OC, Non-Idol!AU, Cop!Yoongi, Supernatural!AU

Warnings: Death, swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Alright, it’s real emo hours since Epiphany dropped. I’m consistently amazed with their work. Anyway, I hope you guys are doing well. I’m a wee bit stressed, but it’s nothing major! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As always, I will respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them, so feel free and feel comfortable sending me anything! And please send feedback, criticism, comments or concerns my way so I can address them.

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Chapter One

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

Something felt very very wrong.

Namjoon continued chatting beside me in the patrol car, but my focus was missing, drifting elsewhere. Possibly deliberately, Namjoon had avoided mentioning the arrest for the duration of the drive. He seemed quite shaken about the issue back at the cafe, but he was careful to collect himself as soon as we were alone in the car. I wondered vaguely if he was being conscious of me, trying not to upset me. But then a new, more uncomfortable thought occurred to me; what if he wasn’t talking about it because he’d grown suspicious of me?

He parked the car and I exited quickly. Regret began filling me up. I had revealed too much needlessly. Yoongi had already gotten the information from Jimin by the time I’d told it to Namjoon. The only thing I hadn’t gotten the chance to mention was-

“Namjoon,” I said, leaning back inside the car to stare at him seriously.

He turned to give me a big smile. “Yeah?”

“As Jimin left the bar, one of the boys with him stood to leave. I didn’t see which one,” I said, meeting his eyes seriously as his smile fell.

His eyes went wide. “Wait-uh,” he started, then struggled with his seatbelt.

“No, it’s okay. You don't need to get out,” I said, shaking my head. He stilled and looked at me. “Just…just make sure you catch the right person, okay?”

He shook his head. “I will, but…,” he began, then sighed. “I’m sorry, but it’s gonna be a lot harder without your testimony.”

I inhaled long and slow. “I…Namjoon, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I desperately want to,” I said, searching his face. I wanted him to trust me. To believe me. His eyes were foggy with worry. “But it’s not as simple as that. There are things I simply cannot explain.”

He nodded. “I understand. And I won’t push you,” he said. “But…in the future, you might be the only thing that stands in the way of a criminal getting justice.”

My brows furrowed and I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. “I see.”

He reached out and patted my hand as it rested on the dashboard, my body hovering halfway inside the car. “Don’t worry too much, okay?” he said, then smiled brightly. “Nothing you said today will be used. I’ll keep it to myself, okay?”

I nodded. “I’m trusting you.”

“I’m happy you are.”

Again, I nodded before pulling myself out of the car. I waved over my shoulder as Namjoon pulled off onto the road, quickly racing towards the police station. I sighed after him and turned towards the shop. The flowers in the front of the shop were beginning to droop slightly. They needed tending. With a quiet sigh, I pulled Jimin’s keyring from the big front pocket of my dress and, as I did, I noticed my empty hands. I groaned.

“Dammit,” I mumbled to myself, unlocking the door to the shop and propping it open so the place could get some fresh air. I’d left the bag of groceries at the cafe by the beach. Namjoon and I had left in such a hurry that I hadn’t thought to grab it.

I wandered around the shop, running my fingertips along the countertops atop which pots of flowers and various plant life sat comfortably. Beside each were hand-written price tags. I couldn’t help but smile at the way Jimin’s handwriting curved here and dipped there. It was animated and bright, like him. With a quick sigh I turned towards the workroom and walked inside. I walked to the back and grabbed for the old yellow watering can, filling it quickly in the large sink by the window. I glanced outside. The very same window where Jimin’s father had placed those delicate, wilting peonies four years ago. It was strange, even nostalgic staring at that space. I glanced towards the ground, my sneakered feet sitting right beside where his father had fallen. Unconsciously, I inched closer to the sink’s wide basin. The windowsill, now empty, now gathered dust. It remained unopened. I watched the world outside, winding streets, swaying trees vibrant with springtime life, children playing on the sidewalks, weaving all the way down to the beach.

And this window was closed to it all.

“Ah!” I exclaimed as the watering can overflowed into the sink.

I shook my head and grabbed its slippery handle, finding it quite heavier than I expected. I walked carefully back into the store and gingerly lifted the weighty can, dousing each plant along the walls with water. How Jimin managed to reach those high planter baskets overhead was beyond me. I stood cautiously on tiptoe to tilt the can towards a row of daisies on a chest-high shelf and slipped a little, water sloshing over the side and splashing onto the dusty floor. I righted myself quickly, but before I could give it another attempt I felt the weight of the can lift in my hands and, amazed, stared at it for a while before noticing an extra pair of hands on the handle.

I gasped and jumped backwards, colliding with the stranger behind me. Gracelessly, water spilled out from the top of the can and drenched my face, dripping down towards the dress.

The dress!

I slipped out from beneath the stranger’s arms and rushed to the workroom, grabbing for a clean towel. I dabbed the water from the collar of the dress and, thankfully, found that it hadn’t stained. Such a precious dress should not be damaged by the likes of me.

Slowly, I exited the workroom and found a tall, broad-shouldered man watering the plants which were too tall for me. I watched him from the doorway for a long moment, eyeing him. He seemed rather…odd. He hadn’t spoken a single word as long as he’d been in the shop, hadn’t greeted me, hadn’t even apologized for startling me.

I approached him and he turned only his eyes towards me. “Hello,” he said.

I blinked up at him. “Um…,” I began, then shook my head. “Hello. Who are you?”

He halted his watering and turned to face me properly. “I’m Kim Seokjin. I work here,” he said, then bent at the waist to look me in the eye. “And who are you?”

I swallowed something uncomfortable in my throat and glanced away, towards the daisies. “I’m…I’m Nari.”

“No last name?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He nodded and returned to the plants, gently guiding the water over them. “You’re the one who they found with Jimin, right?” he asked.

“Oh…yes, I suppose,” I said, following him closely as he continued watering diligently.

“Did Jimin give you the key? I’ve been trying to meet up with him for the past few days, but the hospital says you have to be on the list and the little shit didn’t put me on,” said Seokjin with a begrudging sigh.

I nodded. “I’m staying here for a while. I have-,”

“Amnesia, right?” he asked, turning to me. “It’s all over the paper.”

I raised my brows. “Really?”

He nodded and gave a light chuckle. “Small town.”

He turned to walk towards the flowers in the window, giving them an extra spraying of water. I kept close to his side, watching his every move. He rolled the sleeved of his pink shirt up to his elbows, passing the watering can from one hand to the other. He pushed his hair from his face and continued.

“You’re a good worker,” I observed, once again unable to stop myself from speaking. I needed to be more mindful about allowing my inner dialogue to become outer dialogue.

He glanced at me and raised his brows. “What makes you say that?” he asked. “I’m just trying to take care of things so he doesn’t have to.”

“That’s what I was doing too,” I said, then glanced towards the open door. “Is that why you came in?” I asked, pointing to it.

He followed my finger and nodded. “Yeah. I was walking by on the way back from my other job,” he said, then sighed. “I kinda freaked out when I heard about it all. Like…why would someone target him?”

I recalled something in my distant memory. A phone call Jimin had taken on the day of the incident. He’d called someone. Someone named Jin. “Jin…,” I repeated, thinking on it.

He turned to me with wide brown eyes. “Hey, that’s my nickname,” he said, shaking his head. “Only friends call me that.” He began watering again and, again, I kept close. He tossed his head this way and that. “I mean, I guess we can be friends if you want.”

I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms. Something was weird about it. I tried to remember the call. “So you work here?” I asked, trying to pry for information.

He nodded, turning from the plants on the walls and turning towards the ones in the center of the shop. “Yeah, part-time. I was supposed to work on the night he was stabbed, but he called and told me not to.”

That was it! Jimin had said something about being a target…

“Ah,” I said, summoning all my tact to attempt a subtle question. “Do you feel guilty, perhaps?”

He nodded. “Yeah, pretty bad,” he said with a sigh. “I told him to be careful since the weather was bad and he seemed like the killer’s type.”

“Is the killer that well-known here?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Like I said,” he said, turning to me with a half-smile. “Small town.”

“Ah.”

“Things like that don’t happen here. Nobody can figure out why now, of all times, this place is getting so scary,” he said with a shrug. “We’ve never had a serial killer before.”

I nodded. “I suppose it’s shocking.”

“It’s been hard on the whole community,” he said. “Lots of people are blaming the kids.”

“What kids?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“The local kids. Taehyung and his friends,” he said.

I glanced at him. He was very well-focused on his task, eyes trained on the leaves as they dipped under the pressure of the water. “Taehyung,” I said, nodding. That was the other one at the bar, wasn’t it?

“They’re just dumb kids. Doubt they’d do something like this,” he said, then looked at me with a laugh. “Not quite smart enough.”

I raised my brows. “Does someone have to be smart to be a killer?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not to be a killer,” he said, then paused to think over his words. “But to be a killer and not get caught.”

“Were you worried about Jimin?” I asked, peering at him.

He nodded, rubbing his forehead with a long exhale. “So worried. I felt like I should have done something more.”

“What could you have done, really?” I asked, thinking back. “He’s your boss.”

“I know,” he said. He set the watering can on the table beside a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips. “Still, I wish I’d come to work anyway.”

I nodded. Truthfully, I wished I’d done more myself. I wished I’d simply stopped the assailant before he could attack Jimin. I wished I’d been able to solve the problem cautiously, without risking myself. I wished I’d been able to spare Jimin from pain.

A low groan rumbled from my gut and I glanced down to it in shock. The area began contracting in light aches and my eyes went wide. Seokjin laughed and leaned back against the table. “Hungry?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Is that what it is?” I asked.

He laughed again and nodded. “Yeah. You should go eat something.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Jimin has no food.”

Seokjin’s brows raised and he shook his head. “Oh, well let’s get you some groceries then!” he said.

I grabbed his arm as he turned towards the open door. “No, really. It’s okay. I don’t want you to waste your money.”

“My money?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “I’m not paying. I expect you to buy the ingredients, plus an hourly rate for my time.”

“H-Hourly rate?” I asked, feeling around in the pocket of the dress for the rest of the money Namjoon had given me. Not much.

Seokjin nodded and held his hand out to me palm up, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side. “I’ll accept the federal minimum wage.”

“Minimum wage…?”

He nodded again and shook his hand a little. “Mhm.”

We locked eyes for a long moment, his serious and mine panicked, before his expression broke and he laughed, shaking his head and turning on his heel. “I was teasing you.”

My heart which had begun to race settled and I followed him. Something in me was a little…upset? “That wasn’t very kind,” I said.

He turned over his shoulder and, smiling brightly, shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it was funny. You should’ve seen your face. All-,” he paused to offer a horrified expression before laughing again. “It was great.”

I crossed my arms but followed nonetheless, locking the front door behind me.

Seokjin focused keenly on the stove, watching the fish cook on a searing pan. I sat at the table, watching him just as keenly. “Why is Jimin letting you stay here?”

I kept my eyes trained on him and thought a moment. “Because he is kind.”

“Yeah,” said Seokjin with a laugh. “But there’s gotta be another reason for him to take in a stranger with amnesia, right?”

“I believe that would be a question better directed toward him,” I said, nodding.

But the more I thought about it, the stranger it was. From the years I’d been watching over him, Jimin had never been the naively kind type. He was thoughtful and compassionate, but never at the expense of his safety and good judgement. Like that night with Jungkook. He’d done the right thing telling him to stop smoking, but mostly for the sake of his own shop. Perhaps there was another reason I hadn’t realized yet…

I sighed, resting my cheek in my hand. “I got a text earlier,” said Seokjin. He peeked at me over his shoulder. “They arrested Jungkook.”

I stiffened. Had he read my thoughts? “I…yes.”

He nodded, poking the fish with his spatula. “Doesn’t seem right, does it?”

“Do you know him?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Of course,” he said. “Everyone knows everyone here. I watched Jungkook go from a quiet student failing math to a delinquent dropping out of school altogether.”

I laced my fingers and rested my chin atop them. “Was that what he was like?”

Seokjin nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “But Jimin…somehow, Jimin seemed to be a good influence. When Jimin graduated high school was when Jungkook started to spiral.”

“They were good friends?” I asked, something uncomfortable nestling in my stomach. I rubbed it.

“More like a mentor-mentee relationship,” he said.

I exhaled slowly. In the hallway, I heard the distant tumbling sound of the washing machine at work. Another thing Seokjin had helped me with. Still, having him in the apartment felt strange. I wasn’t sure why, but he made me uneasy. Perhaps it was the way he seemed to see through me. I had many things to hide, after all.

“Jimin has lots of friends right?” I asked, more for my own peace of mind than anything.

Seokjin nodded. “Friends, acquaintances, loved ones…he has a few,” he said. “But none are all that close. That’s why it’s…kinda hard to hear that Jungkook was arrested. It would be hard for Jimin to accept if it’s true.”

Nobody close…

“Why is that, do you think?” I asked.

Seokjin shrugged, placing the fillets onto two plates atop freshly cooked rice. He approached and placed a plate in front of me, setting the other one in front of his seat as he sat down. “He’s lost a lot of people.”

I nodded. “Is that the reason?”

“I’d say so,” he said, then met my eyes as he stuffed a bite of fish in his open mouth. “Imagine loving someone deeply only for them to disappear?”

“Isn’t that…the nature of life? Transiency?” I asked, furrowing my brow. I’d never given it much thought before: the pain of grief on those left behind.

He chuckled. “That’s too simple,” he said, sipping some water.

“How do you mean?”

“People are really complex. We can’t just experience devastation and think: huh, yeah that’s just life I guess! Ho hum,” he said with a laugh. “It’s easy to say it when you haven’t felt it before.”

I nodded. “I didn’t realize it was that complicated,” I said.

He smiled. “I’m glad I could teach you,” he said, returning to his food.

But I began to worry. Jimin was much more isolated than I thought he was. He was sadder than I thought too. Smiling brightly…the longer I lived among humans the more I realized the artifice of it. How many people did Jimin have, really? How many people cared for him? How many people did he care for?

“Family,” I said, rubbing my neck as my fish began growing cold. “Does family make the pain easier?” I asked.

Seokjin nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Having a family means having a place.”

A place…

Jimin’s place…I’d always thought it was this shop, this apartment. But perhaps it was more difficult than that. Perhaps he had no place. “It’s good that Jimin has Injung,” I commented.

Seokjin met my eyes and scanned them. “His uncle…?”

I nodded. “Yes. It’s good at least that he has someone.”

He smiled. “It’s better that he has someone worrying about him as much as you do,” he said. “Family doesn’t always have to be blood. Sometimes, it’s forged. We can make our own family.”

“Make our family…?”

He nodded and pushed my plate towards me. “I wonder why he’s letting you stay here,” he repeated with a small smile. “Eat up or you’ll get skinnier.”

Seokjin left after cleaning up the kitchen and hanging my laundry up to dry on a rack in the living room. Night fell and so did I against the plush bed. As I fell asleep, Miso curled up beside my nose, her whiskers tickling my cheeks. I opened my eyes and stared at her for a moment. The room was navy blue, nearly black, but her eyes were shining bright in the shafts of moonlight that stretched through the window. She stared at me, her pink nose twitching as she began to rest.

I reached out and smoothed my fingers against her small head, petting her lightly. “Miso,” I said, to which she shut her eyes and began purring. “Thank you for looking after him.”

She continued purring, leaning into my hand. I’d always found it strange that Jimin would assume responsibility for a cat when he was struggling to care for himself, but after speaking with Seokjin…I felt understanding beginning to take root in my mind. I’d never realized how important companionship can be when loneliness hits. Seokjin was right. Jimin had lost a lot of people in his life. Perhaps because the full scope of grief was becoming clearer to me, or perhaps because I was tired, but I felt a stinging in my eyes before a few stray tears wetted my cheeks. I continued petting her soft head as she purred. I stroked her head until her purs turned to deep, long breaths. Inhales coming more slowly, exhales lasting longer.

And at some point, I fell asleep with scarce tears drying on my skin.

“Oh! A new dress,” remarked Jimin as I entered his hospital room.

Injung turned to me and smiled, in the process of packing Jimin’s clothes into a backpack carefully. I nodded at each of them with a soft smile. I’d cautiously rifled through the dresser in my bedroom that morning, having touched the freshly washed clothes only to find them still heavy with water. It would take a good while more for them to dry. Instead, I reached inside the drawers and found an old black pinafore, something reminiscent of older times, and a blouse that fit too loose. Jimin too had changed out of his uniform, replacing his pastel hospital pajamas with a comfortable pair of jeans I recognized and a shirt I was sure didn’t belong to him. Like me, it was too big for him.

“I brought a peach,” I said, reaching into the canvas bag I’d found on the coat rack and handing it to him.

Jimin glanced down at the fruit and smiled. He turned it over in his hands and chuckled. “You get me lots of gifts,” he commented.

My cheeks flared. “Well…,” I began with a shrug. “Peaches are good for your cells. They have thiamin and-,”

“Thank you,” he interrupted with a laugh, taking a hearty bite. “Where’d you get it?”

I crossed my arms and thought. “Your employee came by while I was watering the plants. We went to the store together. Seems he is a fairly good cook,” I said.

“Jin?” he asked, brows raised. He thought a moment. “He didn’t say anything embarrassing, right?”

Injung laughed and clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Are you nervous? Scared he told her you used to read those girly comics?”

“Injung!” shouted Jimin, quickly clamping his free hand over his uncle’s mouth. He glanced at me before smiling quietly and laughing a soft laugh. “He’s joking.”

I blinked between the both of them. “I don’t really see why that would embarrass you,” I said, then shrugged. “Seokjin only had good things to say about you.”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed and he removed himself from Injung’s side. He chuckled and ruffled his hair which had gone fluffy with the humidity. “That doesn’t sound right,” he said, then smiled my way. “Anyway, I’m glad you got a proper meal. Once I get home today I’ll make the place a bit nicer for you.”

I shook my head quickly and grabbed for his arm. “Absolutely not! You are still recovering. No strenuous activity,” I said.

He glanced down at the place where my fingers met the exposed skin of his arm before meeting my eyes with his wide ones. “Uh…,” he began, then laughed, eyes nearly disappearing. “You don’t need to be so worried about me. I’m pretty strong.”

Injung scoffed. “He’s only saying that because he wants you to think he’s cool,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Jimin whipped his head towards his uncle, but as he did I placed both hands on his cheeks and felt carefully. With furrowed brow, I focused on the sensation in my palms. Jimin turned back to me and a pinkish blush bloomed across his cheeks. His eyes scanned me from above, endless pools of deep brown. I focused my gaze on his skin, then sighed and pulled away, crossing my arms.

“But he doesn’t feel cool at all,” I said, shaking my head. “If anything, he’s a little warm. Jimin, do you feel feverish?”

Jimin smiled and shook his head, a bashful warmth in his eyes as he quickly swept them away from me, glancing towards the wall with a breathy laugh. “No, I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

Injung looked as if he was struggling to contain laughter and nodded, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Come on, you dorks,” he said, jerking his head toward the door. “I already took care of the paperwork.”

We left the room together, but in the silence I watched Jimin become pensive. He seemed to have something on his mind and I could venture a guess about what it was. He wrung his hands and sighed slightly, eyes on the linoleum floor. I was certain his guilt was tearing him up. But as he caught me watching him, he simply offered a painfully bright smile and ruffled my hair slightly. And I could do nothing but smile in response and let him be alone with his complicated thoughts.

Jimin and I followed Injung down the hallway. As we approached the lobby, Doctor Jung and his son stood, lingering by the checkin desk. “Ah! You’re discharged today,” remarked Doctor Jung with a bright smile.

Hoseok glanced at the three of us and nodded, bowing his head slightly. “Thanks to you,” said Jimin, returning the smile.

Doctor Jung patted his shoulder. “You’re lucky to be alive, Jimin.”

He nodded. “I know,” he said. “I plan to live every day like a blessing.”

Something hot and bitter and unpleasant knotted in my chest. I knew what it was. Guilt. “Good, then,” said Doctor Jung. “I hope I’ll see you around, then.”

“Just…not as a patient,” added Hoseok with a soft smile Jimin’s way.

He laughed and nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The three of us walked out into the street and began the walk towards Jimin’s apartment. The sky was an edgeless blue dome above us, dotted with clouds and a few jet streams. Living every day like a blessing… I wasn’t sure what that meant. But I knew that, walking beside him, staring up at the sky, feeling the breeze against my skin…I supposed it did feel like a blessing after all. I watched the sky for a few steps until my toe caught on the uneven sidewalk pavement and I lost my footing. I reached out and my hands clamped on both Jimin’s sleeve and Injung’s arm.

Jimin placed a hand on my back and, worriedly, scanned me. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Jeez, you gotta look where you’re going.”

Injung chuckled. “Be careful. If you’re distracted it’s easier to get hurt,” he said, meeting my eyes.

I nodded. “I’m sorry. I should have watched my step,” I said, then sighed. “I was just…I guess I never realized how beautiful the sky was.”

Jimin watched me and a smile teased the edges of his lips. “Nari, were you always sentimental?”

I shook my head. “Oh no. This is…I think this is new,” I said with a nod. “I was just caught off guard I suppose.”

Jimin chuckled and removed his hand from my back, choosing instead to level his eyes with mine and smile gently. “I hope you find more things that catch you off guard.”

Oh no, what was that? A fluttering in my chest? Another heart palpitation? I stared at him for a long moment and as time passed his easy, confident smile morphed into a slightly awkward one, a few terse chuckles escaping him as he cleared his throat and continued walking down the way. The air was soft and warm and the breath entered and exited my lungs comfortably. We passed sun-bleached buildings the color of bone that had become familiar to me in the past days. Perched atop the cliff, overlooking the beach and the water and the endless expanse of ocean beyond I found the walk…

Pleasant.

“Who’s outside?” asked Injung, brows knitted as we approached the flower shop.

I hadn’t noticed before, but he was right to take note. A small crowd of people was congregating outside the greenhouse beside the shop. Here and there I caught plumes of smoke floating into the air. The last person I’d seen smoking was…

I turned to Jimin and raised my brows. “I think it’s-,” I started, then stopped and crossed my arms, glancing away.

Jimin stared down at me, confused for a moment. “Nari, do you know those guys?” he asked, pointing to the group of five who, upon closer inspection, resembled Jungkook not only in age but in blasé demeanor.

I shook my head. “No. I…I don’t know what I was saying,” I said, tossing my eyes seaward.

Injung watched me for a moment before sighing and patting Jimin on the chest as he began walking towards the group. “Don’t provoke them, alright? Let’s just call that cop.”

“Call Yoongi?” asked Jimin with wide eyes. He shook his head. “Definitely not. He told me he’d be busy once he arrested Jungkook-,”

“You don’t think they’re here to retaliate, do you?” asked Injung.

I raked my hands through my hair and, as we walked ever nearer the crowd noticed us at once and began to jeer. “Oh here he comes!” called one, singsongy.

I glanced at him, arms crossed, and scanned his face. Nothing remarkable. Just a young guy with a bandana tied around his bicep. We walked closer, but Injung edged away, seeming uncomfortable. “Poor Jimin,” shouted another. “How’s your chest, buddy?” he asked, taking a wide step forward and shoving Jimin’s chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Hey!” I shouted as Injung grabbed Jimin by the shoulders, helping him regain his footing. “Is this some sort of show of bravado? Retribution for one of your own?” I asked.

The one with the bandana around his arm gave me a look up and down before scoffing. “Alright, whose girl is this?” he asked the guys with a laugh. “Looking like The Grudge.” The boys behind him chuckled.

Save for one.

I noticed, taking up the edge of the small party was a face I recognized. Handsome, tan, with smart eyes and heavy brows. It was the boy from the other night. Taehyung. He and I exchanged a look and something passed between us that made me shudder. He had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes cast low, mouth clamped shut. It seemed he wasn’t participating.

“I think it would be best for you to leave immediately,” I said, taking a step towards the ringmaster. I raised my brows. “Unless your group wants more trouble with the law.”

He rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Oh come on,” he said, looking over my shoulder at Jimin. “Having a girl fight for you? You too scared to face us yourself?”

He moved to step towards him and I placed a hand on the stranger’s chest, lifting my eyes slowly to meet his. As I did, I caught a brief flash of something in his eyes and I watched goosebumps raise on his skin. “Leave,” I said, voice low.

The others chuckled behind him. “Hyungwon, looks like you’re getting pushed around by a girl too,” teased one of them.

I peeked around this boy, Hyungwon’s, chest and furrowed my brow at the rest. “What is it about my being a girl that bothers you all so much?” I asked.

They were silent for a moment before Taehyung chuckled and rubbed his forehead. “This is stupid. Let’s just go,” he mumbled.

Hyungwon turned to him and crossed his arms. “What’s stupid about defending Jungkook from this bullshit liar?”

Jimin approached my side as Taehyung and Hyungwon went back and forth bickering. “Stop, okay? Injung is gonna call the police,” he said carefully from beside me. “They’re not gonna leave until they’re forced to.”

I shook my head. “And what happens in the meantime? Just stall them and hope they don’t hurt you? I’m sorry, but I won’t let them affect your health.”

He sighed and gripped his nose bridge. “Jesus, why do you even care? What’s it matter if they hit me?”

I turned to face him seriously and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I care because you did nothing wrong. And furthermore, you’ve been through a trauma. You have a basic right to safety.”

He scoffed. “Can you just knock it off?” he asked, pulling his hair between his fingers and shaking his head. “They have every right to be upset. Jungkook didn’t do it. I’m certain.”

“Did you ever say he did?” I asked.

He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. The result is the same,” he said, then met my eyes with a heavy frustration I couldn’t recognize. “Now stop it,” he whispered, voice stern. But as he leaned away, with an exhale that shook slightly, he added in a mutter, “Haven’t you caused enough trouble for me already?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Simply silence. I blinked up at him as he took a few steps away from me, standing with arms crossed over his chest beside the entrance to the greenhouse. I glanced back down the sidewalk where Injung once was, and found it empty. He must have left to make the call to the police. I supposed that was the reasonable reaction. But I hadn’t been able to remain reasonable. Not when it came to Jimin.

But in the end, had my care become a burden?

My chest hurt.

Hyungwon turned back to us after conferring with Taehyung and pointed at Jimin. “You gonna come clean or what?”

Jimin nodded, bending to their intimidation. “I told the police that I was out with Jungkook the night I was attacked,” he conceded, eyes shut.

I watched him, unable to intervene, as Hyungwon approached and knotted his hand in Jimin’s baggy shirt. “Look at me when you’re talking,” he ordered, shaking Jimin slightly.

He opened his eyes and nodded. “I sold him out.”

Hyungwon’s eyes flared as he stared down at Jimin. “You’re admitting it that easily? Not even ashamed?” he asked.

Jimin’s shoulders slumped. “I’m not happy about it either.”

“He probably got strong-armed,” said Taehyung, sensible, from over Hyungwon’s shoulder. The other guys, still engrossed in the action, acknowledged Taehyhung’s words with various grunts. “You know that detective? Min Yoongi?”

Hyungwon rolled his eyes and spat at the ground beside Jimin’s feet. “Who cares? A rat’s still a rat.”

“I say we teach him a lesson,” said one idly from the sidelines.

Horrified, I looked towards the source of the voice but as my gaze swept across them, none of the boys would look at me. I inhaled sharply and bit hard on the inside of my cheek. I felt my toes digging into the bottoms of my shoes and as I uncrossed my arms I noticed reddish half-moons in my forearms from my nails pressing into them. I clenched my fists instead and set my jaw, watching Hyungwon carefully.

“An excellent suggestion,” he remarked with a laugh.

Jimin exhaled slowly and looked down to the ground. I’d never seen him so hopeless. Too much had happened to him recently, perhaps. The shock of it all might have finally gotten to him. But why was he so resigned? Why did it seem as if he felt he deserved the punishment?

Hyungwon poised his arm in the air, angling it down towards Jimin’s face. Anticipating the impact, Jimin squeezed his eyes shut and turned his cheek to the oncoming strike. A tight ball rose in my throat as if I may cry and I bit my lower lip. This was what Jimin wanted. He wanted me to stay out of it. He wanted me to watch passively as I always had. He wanted me to stop interfering.

But as the bandana around Hyungwon’s bicep strained against the coiling of his muscles, I really couldn’t help it any longer.

I hopped from foot to foot for a moment, begging my body not to do what I knew it was going to do. With a frustrated grunt, I sighed and ran towards where they stood beside the greenhouse and, without a single thought, pushed my way between them, wedging them apart. Hyungwon watched, shouting at me, as I shoved him back by the chest with all my might.

“Nari!” yelled Jimin, voice deep and sharp. I felt a fear creeping into my body. Would he scold me more?

Would he hate me…?

“What the fuck is up with your girl, Park?!” screamed Hyungwon, fighting against my hands on his chest.

But I was stubborn, forcing him back with everything I had. “If you’re gonna talk about me, then say it to me!” I shouted, giving his chest one last hard shove, sending him stumbling only slightly backwards.

He fumed down at me, eyes alight with rage, and took a deliberate step towards me. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You’re not involved, Nari! Jesus, just go inside!” called Jimin from behind me.

I glanced back at him and saw something in his expression that sent a cold sadness through me. Disappointment. His brows were knitted, head tilted to the side, lips parted and arms limply laying at his sides. He shook his head as we locked eyes, and despite his clear discomfort, I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

A vision suddenly flashed through my mind. Jimin’s face, contorted in such a way, an identical way to the one before me now. Disappointed, frustrated, upset…with me. Had I indeed seen this face of his before?

Hyungwon shoved me slightly out of the way, making a clear path towards Jimin. But before he could reach him, I grabbed onto his arm tightly, holding it close to my chest and leaning as hard as I could backwards.

“Can you please fuck off?!” he yelled down at me, shaking his arm.

I glared up at him. “You won’t hurt him,” I said. My voice was strong and steady and…frightening.

Again, something passed through his eyes. He continued pushing against my force, but as he remained relentless I began growing angry. The thought of Jimin hurt, Jimin in pain, Jimin attacked…it sent an icy shiver of rage through me. As Hyungwon shook me, I quickly clamped my teeth down on his upper arm, biting as hard as I could.

“Agh!” he screamed, stumbling away from me as I pulled away, the faint taste of blood on my tongue. Stunned, he turned to look at me, eyes wide.

“Hyungwon, just leave them alone,” said Taehyung, almost sounding bored.

I never broke eye contact with Hyungwon as he scoffed down at me. “You gotta death wish?” he yelled, fists clenched.

I nodded. “I won’t allow someone like you to hurt him,” I said.

At this he fumed, nostrils flaring. Without so much as a warning, he came down on me and struck me hard on the side of the head. Fist on bone, brain jostling, pain immediately radiating from my left temple. I lost my balance and with the force of the punch I was sent flying down towards the ground. I tumbled onto the concrete, my head colliding with the facade of the flower shop. I sat stunned for a painful moment, hands touching my head. My vision was blurry, spinning. I could hear only muffled shouting, arguing. The pain was horrible, but I’d felt far worse. The day I’d awoken…

Compared to that, anything was bearable.

But damn, it didn’t feel nice.

Soon, my vision returned and so did my hearing. Disoriented, I stood to my feet unsteadily and saw an unexpected scene unfolding on the sidewalk. Hyungwon, restrained by Taehyung who was shouting reprimands over his shoulder.

“Why the hell would you hit her?!” Taehyung yelled in Hyungwon’s ear.

Hyungwon, however, hadn’t had his fill of violence and was thrashing against Taehyung’s grip. “Nari!” Jimin called as he slid to his knees beside me. He took my cheeks in his hands, brows furrowed, and tilted my head side to side. “Are you okay? Oh my God, I’m calling the hospital. Oh my God-,”

I brushed his hands away and shakily stood to my feet. He joined, hands touching any part of me he could grab and examining it. I shook him away as I walked carefully towards Hyungwon who, still thrashing about, spat at me. Luckily, because of the restraint his saliva couldn’t reach me. He looked like a an animal in chains, ravenous and insatiable. I swallowed the iron-like taste of blood and wiped some more off my brow. He laughed down at me, still wildly moving around trying to escape.

I simply stood before him, locking my eyes on his. He met them, but the longer our gazes remained steady on one another, the stiller he became. First it was his hands, going limp. Then the arms. After a moment, he had stopped moving altogether. Jimin approached behind me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I couldn’t look at him. I stared at this boy, into the core of him, the angry, flaming, red, insecure center. I could see it all in his flashing eyes.

I felt my hair falling into my eye, sticking to the bleeding spots on my forehead. I couldn’t even bother moving it. “If you even think about touching him again,” I spat, voice low, leaning up towards his face, now only centimeters away, “I’ll kill you myself.”

I watched a shiver run from the bottom of his spine to the crown of his head. His dark eyes went wide as he realized there was no hyperbole in my words. I meant it. And he could feel it. Goosebumps on his skin, irises shaking, mouth ajar.

He was terrified.

I smiled.

“Oh Jesus! What happened?” called Injung from behind us.

I gave a final nod to the frightened boy and turned away. “Let’s go, Hyungwon,” said Taehyung quietly.

This time, Hyungwon didn’t fight. He didn’t do anything, really. Simply walked back with his friends and disappeared down an alleyway beside the greenhouse.

“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how bad that could have been? God, not to mention you already have amnesia.”

“I know.”

“Do you even care that you were hurt?”

I blinked, sitting atop the counter in Jimin’s kitchen, sweet afternoon light streaming hazily through the window. Injung sat in the living room, ear pressed to his phone, still explaining the situation to Yoongi on the other side. Jimin insisted that Injung tell them not to come once things deescalated, but nonetheless Yoongi demanded that all information be relayed to him for record-keeping.

Jimin stood before me, standing between my knees with a wet rag pressed against my forehead. Peroxide, he had said. To disinfect the wound. I knew he kept it handy for the times when thorny plants gave his skin a knick. He exhaled, still staring over my shoulder into the apartment. He hadn’t looked me in the eye since we’d gotten upstairs.

I felt a strange hollowness in my stomach. Dread perhaps. I knew I’d done something to upset him, and the thought of him hating me was horribly uncomfortable. I preferred it when he didn’t even know I was there.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t especially care,” I said.

Finally, he met my eyes and what awaited me was pure disbelief. “How can you say you don’t care? We don’t even know each other and you’re acting like this,” he said, shaking his head with a sigh. He removed the rag and examined it. “Look at how much you’re bleeding…”

“But I do know you,” I insisted.

He sighed once more and turned toward the opposite counter, waving his hands. “Sure, sure. Whatever,” he said. He grabbed a few bandages from his first-aid kit and returned to his spot between my knees. Why did my heart flutter? “You’re so weird.”

He lifted his hand to my forehead, blowing gently against my skin. But I felt…frustrated. Hurt. How could he become so cold after I’d defended him? Was that fair? As he approached with the bandage, I swatted his hand away and hopped onto the floor. Shocks rain up my legs from the impact. I paused to give Jimin a glare.

“Sorry for trying to help you,” I said quietly, brushing him off as he followed me with the bandage.

He groaned. “Jesus, no! No, come back. I shouldn’t have acted like that,” he said, grabbing for my arm and shaking it slightly.

I turned to him and shook him off. “I’m fine. I’ve stopped bleeding so don’t waste your supplies on me.”

His expression fell and he tilted his head back, seemingly exhausted. “Why are you being so difficult?” he asked.

I scoffed and pulled my arm from his grasp. “Weird and difficult,” I said with a nod. Where was this frustration coming from? When had I ever been upset with Jimin? “I’m fine. I’m gonna go take a shower.” When had I learned to say things like ‘gonna’?

I walked briskly past Injung who, still locked in dialogue with Yoongi, paid me no attention. I heard Jimin exhale sharply with a humorless laugh as I exited the scene. As I shut the bathroom door behind me, I clutched my chest and struggled to control my breathing. I was so frustrated. And I was frustrated with the person I’d risked everything for.

Why did it feel so familiar?

I’d never noticed it before, but the ceiling in my bedroom resembled very fine popcorn. It also had a slight indentation, a sagging, in the corner beside the bed where it had been damaged by rainwater. I’d never noticed it before, but the ceiling in my bedroom was horribly, dreadfully, painfully boring. I sighed, arms and legs splayed out as I lie on my back like a starfish, beached on a drying rock. I couldn’t bring my eyes to close and, as time passed, the injury on my forehead was growing more and more painful. It was aching, dull but noticeable.

More than that, however, my brain was busy. As a Reaper, I’d been able to wander and think all night. But now, my human body was exhausted, longing to rest. My limbs felt heavy, sinking into the bed below me. My eyes kept slipping shut, but my brain simply would not keep quiet long enough for me to fall asleep. I’d heard humans complain about insomnia plenty of times, but experiencing it myself made me feel almost sympathetic towards them.

I sat upright and ran my fingers through my clean hair, releasing the scent of strawberries which, strangely, stimulated my appetite. Hadn’t I heard about something called a ‘midnight snack’? I glanced at the clock beside my bed and saw the sharp numbers bleeding into the inky darkness. 12:54 AM. Close enough, right?

I sat upright and pulled my soft shorts up. After I’d finished showering, Jimin had been missing. Injung told me he’d left to care for the shop, but I knew he was simply avoiding me. Had I always been so pessimistic? Nonetheless, when I’d returned to my bedroom I’d found a set of pajamas laid out, folded at the foot of the bed. They seemed to belong to his mother, as the dresser drawer was left slightly ajar.

I sighed as I felt the pajamas now. Why was he so inconsistent? Did he like me or find me burdensome? I shook my head. These thoughts had plagued me all night. There was no use in lingering on them. I padded quietly out into the living room and, silent as a mouse, crept behind the sofa on which Jimin slept. Miso slept comfortably atop his chest, curled up into a small crescent. I stepped into the kitchen and pried open the refrigerator door, mindful to keep the light from reaching Jimin by placing my body in between. I rifled through the shelves for a moment before grabbing a cup of strawberry yogurt with a sigh.

I turned around, shutting the refrigerator on my way, but gasped when I bumped into Jimin’s chest. I grabbed my nose and stared up at him with wide eyes. “What are you-,”

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

I blinked a few times before shaking my head and shuffling around him. “No,” I answered.

“Me either,” he said, mimicking my previous position in front of the refrigerator. He grabbed the same brand of yogurt, shutting the door and grabbing two spoons. He settled onto the counter. Wordlessly, he patted the spot beside him.

I glanced at him for a moment before, with a sigh, I joined him and grabbed the spoon he extended my way. “I’m…I am upset with you I think.”

He chuckled. “You’re very honest.”

“I don’t really know how to be anything else right now,” I said, letting my posture slump as I spooned bites of yogurt into my mouth. “I’m not used to anything yet.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Which is why I should apologize to you.”

I peered at him. “You should?”

He smiled and nodded, moonlight glowing silver in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. I’ve got…a lot on my mind and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair,” he said.

I felt my eyes welling up with tears. What was this? Relief? “I thought you hated me,” I said quietly, rubbing at my dry eyes before the tears could fall.

He laughed lightly and gave my knee a squeeze. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m really sorry I made you think that.”

I nodded. “Good,” I said. “Live your life being sorry to me.”

He laughed again and nodded. “I will.”

I glanced at him, brows furrowed. “What would have happened if I didn’t step in? You would have been hit. Maybe you would have ruptured your stitches. Ended up back in the hospital, bleeding. You would have had to have another lengthy stay. More interviews with policemen. And for what? For…penance or something? Why would you-,”

He interrupted me with a laugh, placing his hand over my lips. “I know, okay?” he asked with a smile.

I felt my skin heat up and glanced away from him, nodding. “If you know, then that’s enough.” His hand fell back to his thigh.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It aches,” I said. “But it’s expected.”

He sighed. “I should have given you some ice.”

“I’m fine,” I said, then rested my head back against the cabinet, taking another hearty bite. “In exchange for hurting my feelings, tell me what’s on your mind.”

He laughed lightly, stirring his yogurt with a soft smile. “You’re kinda cute, you know?” he asked.

I stared at him before giving his leg a smack. “Tell me.”

He laughed again before shrugging. “Just…I had to put an old friend of mine in a difficult position,” he said.

“You mean telling Yoongi about Jungkook asking you out for drinks that night?” I asked.

He turned to me with wide eyes. “Huh? How did you know?”

I pursed my lips. “Namjoon told me yesterday, and Jin explained that you two used to be close,” I said with a nod. “I figured you were having a hard time.”

He scoffed. “I know you say you know me, but just how well do you know me?” he asked, laughing. “I just…I feel like I betrayed him.”

I shook my head. “Jimin, what else could you have done?”

“Yoongi already knew we went out together, but I kept saying I couldn’t remember anything,” he said with a sigh. “It’s true, but I did remember Jungkook asking me to go out. That much I really did remember the whole time.”

“You didn’t have a choice, did you?” I asked. “If Yoongi knew that much already, then all he needed was your testimony. I’m sure he pressured you quite a lot.”

Jimin nodded. “But in the end, I’m the one who sold him out,” he said. “And now he’s at the police station, probably getting grilled by Yoongi and Namjoon for a confession that he can’t give because it wasn’t him.” He raked his fingers through his hair, yogurt forgotten as he shook his head, brows knitted. “And it’s all because of me. I’d come after me too, if I was his gang.”

I turned to him quietly and watched his features as he gazed at the floor, expression contorted with guilt. “It must have been hard,” I said. “Holding onto this feeling all alone.”

He stared down at me, eyes round, skin glowing in the soft moonlight. He scanned my face for a moment and again my heart raced. “Nari you…really, why do you care about me this much? What did I do?”

I swallowed hard. “That is…a difficult question to answer,” I said with a nod. “I suppose…well, if you really need an answer it is probably…because I’ve seen in you something very…pure.”

“Pure?” he asked.

I nodded, thinking back to the first time I’d seen him, crouched over his father’s body. I remembered watching the life drain from his eyes as he watched the man collapse onto the ground in a heap, watched him convulse, watched him die. I remembered that horrible sorrow. That loneliness.

“Something pure…,” I repeated, recalling that loneliness in particular. That eternal isolation. “Something that…I could understand.”

“What do you mean?”

I glanced at him. “Alone and cold and frightened and terribly small in a world that’s terribly big,” I said with a nod. “I guess I’ve felt that for a long time. Longer than I even realized.”

He stared down at me as his gaze softened, brows lowering and eyes growing warmer. He inhaled slowly and nodded even more slowly. “I’m sorry I called you weird,” he said quietly. “You’re not weird at all. You’re just sincere, that’s all.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, taking another big bite of yogurt. “I accept your apology.”

“And…well, I guess…I hope that you don’t feel so alone anymore,” he said, taking a peek at me out the corner of his eye, the gesture almost shy. “I feel bad that the thing that ties us together is something that sad.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not sad really,” I said, then shrugged. “I think…seeing that you felt that way too made me feel less alone myself. It’s counterintuitive, but…”

He smiled gently and, his touch featherlight, guided a strand of dark hair behind my ear. “Having you around makes me feel less alone too.”

I met his eyes and smiled despite the jittery nervousness that seemed to occur whenever I looked at him too long. “I’m happy you have people like Injung and Seokjin in your life.”

He chuckled and hopped down from the counter, holding out his hand to help me down. I grabbed it, but as we stood he didn’t release it. I felt flush. “Yeah, me too. Except when Injung’s in my bed and I have to sleep on the couch.”

I blinked at our touching hands and clenched my free hand into a small ball. “Ah…that must be uncomfortable.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m just teasing,” he said, smiling. Then he noticed where my eyes had fallen and he gasped a little. “Ah,” he said, loosening his grip on my hand so it fell to my side. “Sorry.”

“No, uh…it’s fine,” I said, smiling up at him. “I think I feel better now.”

He returned it and nodded. “Me too.”

“I’ll go to bed now then,” I said. “Goodnight, Jimin.”

He grinned and tossed the yogurt cups into the trash. He turned to face me fully and offered a soft, tender smile that bloomed, fresh in the dark night light. “Sweet dreams, Nari.”

Again, I felt flush and instead of staying to chat longer I simply bowed my head and hurried back into my bedroom. My heart, while much more at ease after reconciling with Jimin, was now racing in my chest. I shook my head and shut the door behind me, running my hands through my hair. How shameless this heart was. What was it that it wanted desperately enough to hammer this loudly in my ears?

“My…seems you’re adjusting just fine,” remarked a voice I recognized too well.

I sighed and turned towards my bed where Zero sat, legs crossed, tabbing through The Book under the dull glow of my bedside lamp. “Hello, Zero.”

“Hello, Nari.”

I cringed. “It is…strange for you to call me by that name.”

He glanced at me, deathly smile on his lips, and tilted his head to the side. “Oh, but isn’t it nice that you’re becoming comfortable enough to even adopt a human name? Isn’t that just…nice?”

I sighed and sat beside him. “I apologize. I simply…cannot do as you’ve asked.”

He nodded. “I understand, my dear. Entirely,” he said with an easy shrug. “This boy’s life is just too important.”

“Yes.”

“Much more important than the balance of the very universe itself,” he said with a smile my way. “I understand entirely.”

“Zero, please-,”

“Why is your beloved friend sleeping on the couch tonight? I wanted to get a proper look at him, but found a fully-grown adult in his bed,” he said with a laugh. “Gave me a fright.”

I sighed, gripping he bridge of my nose. As I did, I realized how silly and human that gesture was and returned my hand to my lap, clearing my throat. “That is his uncle.”

“Ah! He has an uncle. Marvelous,” he said, rolling his eyes. “As if this web wasn’t complicated enough.”

I stared at him. “Really, Zero. Can you be this apathetic? These are real, human lives.”

He smiled and nodded. “Precisely. Human lives, just like any other. If I allowed myself to become attached like you have well…,” he paused to laugh. “Well, you’re proof of how well that works out.”

I crossed my arms, frustration again taking hold. When had I ever been this brazen with Zero? “Why are you here, Zero? To tease me?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “No, dear,” he said. “I just noticed something quite odd in The Book that may be relevant to our predicament.”

I glanced at him. “Odd?” I asked, suspicious. He’d proven himself to be quite impetuous since I’d arrived in this human body. I wondered if he was simply toying with me.

He nodded and opened The Book to a page somewhere towards the middle. “Let me quickly find it,” he said under his breath before smiling with a long, “Ah.”

I followed where he pointed and saw a clock running down at an alarming rate. Each second was doubled, two seconds lost for every one second lived. Realization struck me quickly and I turned to Zero with wide eyes. “This is…”

“The person whose time your friend is stealing,” he said with a nod. “Precisely. How clever of you to catch on so quickly.” He grinned and patted my head, however unlike when Jimin did it the feeling was condescending rather than comforting.

I sighed. “So then…this person’s life is being cut short.”

“Yes,” he said.

I scratched my head and watched the numbers fall. 59 years, 363 days, 24 seconds. A long life…

Cut in half.

I rubbed my forehead. “And nothing else is strange in The Book?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not a thing,” he said, then snapped. “Ah, unless you count the clock stuck at zero which…well, I suppose we have spoken about this at length already.” He laughed and flitted his hand.

I sighed. “What is it about this person then?” I asked. My eyes grew wide as I glanced to the side to read the name. Icy chills ran through my body as horror overcame me.

No.

Anyone but him.

Anyone but this person.

Beside the rapidly decreasing clock was the name Ahn Injung.