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ravensilversea · 11 months

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I'll Tell You How the Sun Rose

Title: I'll Tell You How the Sun Rose

Author: Raven_Silversea

Rating: T

Pairing: Colonnello & Aloy, background Colonnello/Lal Mirch/Reborn

Prompt: Reincarnation AU / Oblivious Flirting

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Nora!Colonnello, set during Horizon: Zero Dawn, Post- The City of the Sun Quest, Pre- Into the Borderlands Quest

“You could go back, you know,” Aloy says in the middle of looting a supply chest. “I mean,” she gestures at the bodies and destroyed machines all around them, “the killers are dead, you avenged your brother, and I bet Sona and Teersa will support your return-”

“I have people I’m looking for, kora,” Colonnello cuts her off. He tosses a broken arrow to the side and pulls another, still intact, one from the next body to add to his collection. Jumping down from the quarry ledge to the wooden platform Aloy’s crouched on, he splits his arrow collection in half and passes some to her. “I would have left years ago, but the Matriarchs wouldn’t give me the Seeker’s Mark, even though I won the Proving.”

Aloy frowns. “I thought you could ask for anything.” She does a cursory wipe of the arrows to remove any wet blood before slotting them into her quiver.

Colonnello snorts as he haphazardly throws his own arrows into the quiver on his back. He’ll clean and organize them better next time they make camp, so there’s no reason for Aloy to glare at him like that, especially since she’ll also have to clean her arrows later. “Yeah, well, you’re not supposed to ask for leave to come and go from the Sacred Lands, kora.” He about-turns and starts walking towards the quarry exit, and the scrambling of boots against stone tell him that Aloy’s following.

“So…” she drawls. “What did you get as your boon?”

Ao3

Colonnello sighs, looking up to the blue afternoon sky and beseeching a dead god for patience. “I settled for changing my name and getting a post on the border.”

“Bet the Matriarches took that well.”

“Ha! They hated it almost as much as my mother did.” If his brother hadn’t been her favorite child before that day, he certainly was after. Not that Colonnello blames her for it. He’s always been a shitty son, and this is now the second life running he’s left his mother grieving while he fucks off into danger to run away from his own grief.

Aloy brushes past him and does a running leap to the first handhold. The sunlight gleams off her red hair, and her smile almost puts its brightness to shame. She’s so goddamn young, and his brother was too. Too young to hold all of Teersa’s hopes on her shoulders and far too young to die.

His climb up the handholds and ledges is slower than hers, which she always takes a moment to tease him about. “Do I need to slow down for you, old man?” she asks from above him with a grin.

“I’ll show you who’s old,” he grumbles and hauls himself up and over the last ledge out of the quarry. He’s not old. He’s nowhere near old. Twenty is nothing compared to being a hundred despite being physically fifty. Just because she’s sixteen and wandering around with only one set of memories doesn’t make him old.

Well, he thinks as Aloy runs up to their Strider and does minor repairs on it before slinging her packs over it’s rear end already to get going and do the next thing. Maybe he is a bit old.

“One of these days, kora,” he says, mounting up behind her on the horse-like machine, “I am going to introduce you to the concept of a siesta.”

Aloy laughs. “You keep saying that and have yet to do it.”

“It hasn’t been ‘one of these days’ yet, kora.”

Aloy waits days to ask who he’s looking for, and Colonnello’s honestly a bit surprised she waited that long. She doesn’t exactly have tact and does have a desire to know everything about everything.

The campfire crackles as Colonnello rotates the rabbits he’s cooking for their dinner, and somewhere in the distance, a Longleg blasts something. Probably a fox. Maybe some poor fool who got too close to the machine herd.

Aloy shifts so that she’s sitting directly across from him, which makes it hard to ignore her expectant expression.

He sighs and sits back against the rock behind him. How does he even explain that he’s looking for people he’s known most of his life but also never met? People who are long dead and possibly not even born, or born and don’t remember him? The stars and Milky Way above him give Colonnello no answers.

“Were they taken in the Red Raids?” Aloy asks quietly, already seeming to brace herself for his answer. She’s heard enough people’s stories at this point, Colonnello supposes it’s only to be expected that she starts there. Still…

“No. Well, maybe, kora. I don’t know.” He jabs the poker stick into the fire and nudges the logs until one’s back begins to crumble off. Pulling out the stick, he shoves the glowing tip into the dirt to extinguish it. “They aren’t Nora.” At least, he doesn’t think they’re Nora. Even without their memories, he’s pretty confident he would have recognized them.

At least… God, he hopes he would.

Aloy’s brow furrows. “Then how… you’ve never left the Sacred Lands.”

“Until now, yep.” Colonnello tests the rabbits, determines they’re cooked, and tosses one to Aloy. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated as in Rules of the Nora complicated or complicated as in why you know so much about the Old Ones complicated.”

Colonnello gapes at her, even as Aloy takes a large bite of her rabbit and raises her eyebrow. She’s sharper than a tack, he can’t deny that no matter how much he grumbles about it. “Viper would skin me alive for dropping enough hints for you to pick up on that, kora,” he mutters. Aloy grins.

Colonnello takes a bite of rabbit and chews it thoughtfully. “The second one,” he wags his pointer finger downwards in the air like he was picking a gameshow answer. “I knew them Before. In my last life.”

Aloy’s eyebrows climb so high, they almost get lost in her hairline. “Your what.”

“My last life. What part wasn’t I clear about, kora?” Colonnello says with a broad, teasing grin. “I have memories of the Old World when I was an ‘Old One’.” He fingerquotes, and Aloy screws up her face in confusion when he does.

She gestures at the air. “What was that? Why did you do that?”

“Oh it’s an Old Ones thing. You wouldn’t understand, kora.” He takes another bite of his dinner while Aloy makes a teakettle noise of frustration.

He spends the rest of the meal explaining different idiosyncrasies of the Old World before there were machines and when the ruins were actually towering buildings people lived and worked in. But as they climb into their bedrolls, Colonnello knows Aloy isn’t done with their initial conversation. She’s far too nosy to be.

He’s right, of course. Aloy brings it up again one night while they’re riding along the road, right after they’ve outrun a herd of Chargers who took them going past as a challenge for about five miles. “You love her, whoever you’re looking for,” Aloy says.

Colonnello watches the last Charger disappear from the horizon behind them and turns back around. They literally spent most of the day sitting in a small cave waiting out a sandstorm, and she waits until now to ask. “Them. I love both of them, kora,” he whispers.

Aloy’s quiet for a moment. Colonnello isn’t surprised. While there are a few polyamorous partnerships amongst the Nora, she’s spent maybe a week amongst the tribe itself and most of that was spent helping in the immediate aftermath of the Proving. It’ll take her a moment to add the concept into her worldview, but only because she never considered it before. While she does, he looks over her shoulder to the road ahead, trying to draw centuries old constellations in the new starfield again.

“What were they like?”

Fuck, how to describe them? How to encapsulate all that is Reborn and Lal into a few short sentences when they were two of the Strongest Seven with reputations to match?

He settles on, “He was an asshole, and she could kick my ass,” to start.

Aloy bursts out laughing. “Sounds like my kind of people.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Lal would absolutely adore Aloy. She’s the right kind of scrappy and smart that would make Lal want to take her right under her wing. Reborn would take those same qualities as a challenge, and he’d spent every waking moment trying to trip her up and make her even better than she already was. All in all, Aloy was scary now? The earth itself would quake beneath her feet after those two were done with her, and Colonnello wishes he could see it.

“Both of them were terrifying teachers, but they wanted their students to be their best. Reborn was just more willing to drag the more useless-appearing ones to greatness while Lal had a more sink or swim mentality.”

“Got personal experience with that one?” Aloy smirks over her shoulder, barely visible in the moonlight.

Colonnello chuckles. “It’s how I met Lal. I was assigned to her squad, and she ran me over with a tank- uh, those square-ish ruins with a canon we see along the road sometimes.”

“She ran you over with one of those?”

“Hey now! I lived didn’t I?”

Aloy gives him a squint-eyed look that says so much about what she thinks of that. She mutters something about it breaking his self-preservation a whole lifetime later, but he can’t quite make it out.

“Reborn was my best friend,” he continues. “Dramatic to the extreme, loved tormenting his students and seeing them shake in their boots, but he would have killed anyone who tried to touch a hair on their heads.” He trails off. “I’d be more worried about any Carja who tried to drag them off during the Red Raids then them to be honest. They were two of the strongest people in the world, and everyone knew it, kora.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

Colonnello shakes his head with a smile, but there’s no real explaining the I Prescelti Sette and the Arcobaleno Curse, much less his role in it. At least, not right now. Instead, he fills the night with stories about Reborn and Lal, both their accomplishments and their most embarrassing failures, as well as how they all ended up together. Just glossing over the curse and mafia aspects of it all.

They arrive at Meridian in the gray hours just before dawn. A man is waiting for them at the gates and introduces himself as Blameless Marad with a closed-lipped smile and knowing eyes, and Colonnello immediately pegs him as a spy. Unlike Viper, who had carried themselves with a disinterested air that allowed them to slide into the background unless you were willing to buy the information they had, Marad clearly wants them to know he has information and is not afraid to use it. It makes him dangerous.

Colonnello rests his hand on the hilt of the knife he keeps on his hip. Marad’s eyes follow the motion before cutting back up to smirk at Colonnello. “The Sun-King requests your presence, Aloy and Colonnello of the Nora,” he says. “If you would follow me?”

Marad leads them through the early morning bustle of the city, merchants and tradesmen only just beginning to set up their tables while guards conduct a shift change. The palace is separated from the city proper by a long bridge, and then by seemingly endless stairs dotted with Carja nobles also seeking an audience with the Sun-King.

Twisting her head at every noble they pass, Aloy’s eyes clearly track up and down the fine clothing, accessories, and distinct lack of weaponry. Their escort skillfully redirects her attention to their ascent with quiet lectures about the history and architecture of the palace while Colonnello pointedly glares at every noble who mutters something about rising early every morning for days and the “Nora savages” getting to skip the line. He may be able to restraint himself from picking a fight, but Aloy’s only sixteen and has the short temper to go with it.

It doesn’t stop Marad from dryly catching Colonnello’s eye when Colonnello starts tapping his fingers against his knife hilt.

They climb the last stairs and turn towards a balcony. The view is primarily blocked by a large metal-carved throne facing out over the city, and Colonnello has to respect the dedication to the view despite the security hazard. But then again, it’s not like any of the tribes have developed (or dug up any) snipe rifles yet, and arrows only go so far.

Three figures step out from the shadows of the throne. The first, a bare-chested man save for an open-robe and a large metal-and-machine-part necklace, wearing a geometric headpiece. Presumably, he’s the Sun-King. He greets them with a bright smile. The second is Erend, who pulls Aloy into a tight hug.

The third… It’s the tilt of his head that gives him away, and Colonnello is moving, brushing past the Sun-King mid-sentence, and wrapping his arms around the shadowed man just as dawn breaks over the mesa. Arms wrap around him in return as he breathes in the new but familiar scent of resin instead of gunpowder, oasis and desert instead of coffee, and sunlight which has somehow stayed the same.

Colonnello pulls back to look into the same gunmetal colored eyes he remembers and says, almost breathes it feels like, “Where the fuck have you been, kora?”

Reborn huffs. His stupid curly sideburns have also the journey from one life to the next, and Colonnello wants to pull them just to see them bounce again. “Right here, idiota,” Reborn says before leaning in and kissing Colonnello.

It burns like the morning sun against the cold desert night, and Colonnello wraps his fingers in the curls on the back of Reborn’s head, pulling him closer as if to soak up all the rays and embed the feeling of this one kiss into his bones. Because last life, he had almost forgotten this feeling, up on that cold mountain with Lal and the other soldiers and endless swarm of machines and no idea if Reborn was still out there somewhere while the apocalypse rained down upon the world.

Reborn’s the one to break the kiss, leaving them both panting. The bastard smirks down at him, carefully untangles Colonnello’s fingers from his hair, and pulls away. “So,” he says, “When did you adopt a kid?”

#khr #khr/hzd #khrrarepairweek2023 #colonnello #aloy #raven's pen

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deepseavibez · 2 years

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Nerve_30 [R] || KNJ

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Nerve [Namjoon x Reader]

Prompt - @casnextdoor

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Part 30 - Finale [E]

Part 30 - Finale [R]

Part 30 - Finale [V]

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Genre - cheating; aftermath; husband au;

Summary - You would never expect it really. He’s doting. He’s sweet. He’s hardworking. But he’s forgotten his morals. Suspecting it is one thing, but when he confirms it, will you stay or walk away.

Warning - Cheating(Aftermath); Angst; Borderline Assault(Sexual); Attempted Assault(Sexual); Explicit Sexual Implications; Heavy Angst; Anger; Anxiety; Overwhelming Feelings; Memories tied to a traumatic event; Psychological Trauma.; PTSD; Sadness; Emotional Hurt; Comfort; Panic; Dissociation; Self-deprecation; Blood and Violence; Angry/ Protective Namjoon; A very very angry band;

Word Count - 11.3k

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Additional Warnings - Graphic Depiction of Sexual Assault; Intent of Sexual Abuse; Rage; Hopelessness; Guilt; Self-loathing; Self-hate; Violence! Blood; Injury; Verbal Humiliation; Narcissistic Behaviour; Mentions of Grooming; (Implied) Unhealthy Obsession); Explicit Language;

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A/N - This is it. The following update may have potential triggers for psychological trauma not only on the OC but on the reader. It was hard to write. It was hard to read. It was hard to finalize. Please understand that the following chapter contains a complete representation of OC's current psyche and mental state as she goes through the intended events. PLEASE!! Proceed with caution as this whole update is a MAJOR trigger warning.

The following update contains scenes of a graphic sexual intent. To bypass the scene scroll through the first portion and read AFTER the '###' in red.

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‘I said. I Was. Not. Done.’

‘Oh God, no.’ Your voice sounded brittle, even to your own ears. Please, no! ‘Get out!’

Kwang calmly leaned against the door. The only exit, the only way out considering all the windows around you would barely fit a big dog, let alone a person through. He regarded you silently, making no move to do anything you’d asked, or anything you wished.

‘Don’t you think I’ve noticed the dirty looks, y/n? The hostile personalities from idols that are a staple for being polite, for being civil. The minimal words from your head of security, that mind you, answered only to me once upon a time.’ He stalked you, with each added sentence, speaking softly… smoothly. The tone grating against your nerves. ‘Haven’t you learned enough from trying to tell your father?’ His pity filled gaze made you feel small until he gave it up and shook his head.

His easy going stance fell away and his hard stare made you tremble a little. ‘It’s not their business, y/n and it’s not such a big deal.’ Hard features immediately softening, coaxing… confining. ‘Let’s face it, princess,’ he narrowed his gaze and you stepped back as he got closer, ‘did you not think, maybe for one minute, that you deserved it?’

You shook your head. But even you couldn’t deny that you had had your doubts. Because you did think that. You spent days, nights, going back in time, agonizing over how you carried yourself, how you portray yourself, if you had ever, even once, given any indication that would motivate his actions. You always came up short. Because in your head, you never had any sexual intention. Nothing you said or did with regards to Kwang, was even remotely sexual.

‘I didn’t,’ you breathed out and shook your head. You flinched as your back hit the wall.

There was something wrong with you… you used to think so. Because why would your own father not believe you. You internalized it all, every bad thing, every mistake… was a failing on your part, by association, a failure for your Sung Y/l/n. By being a failure, maybe it didn’t make sense, but maybe you deserved what happened to you.

Why were you the wrong one, the bad one, the attention seeker… As some of your co-workers pointed out, ‘the hard-up bitch in heat’. Yeah, you’d heard the rumors, you dealt with the judgemental looks and harsh whispers. You were the best intern, and you moved up the ranks by both nepotism and knowing how to do your job – neither of which was well received by colleagues.

In the end it was your fault that Sung didn’t believe you or at least, didn’t do anything about it.

Before everything had happened, Kwang Jae was a constant in your life. He was always the first person you’d confide in. He was the project leader, that delegated, that stayed late to show you the reins that guided you through the legalities and the PR, and the providing knowledge on office politics that kept you informed.

He was your shoulder to cry on, he was the one to offer a random cup of coffee in the morning and lunch on a bad day. He was the one with the great advice and the life experiences and it was always Kwang’s office and Kwang’s house, and Kwang’s “safe” hugs.

The rebellious side of you that was so proud of throwing Kwang Jae in your parents faces was given one the biggest karmic reality checks. In Sung’s head, how could you complain about the same man?

Of course, you had just brought it on yourself.

But it was also true, that you had never once strayed in that direction.

You acted out of pure love, expecting to have it received in the same manner. Not this.

‘I didn’t deserve it!’ You denied, your hurt pride playing a big part of the statement.

Kwang gave you a pitiful look. ‘Aw, princess.’ He placed his hands on either side of your head as you cowered away. Your skin crawled at his closeness. The atmosphere was heavy and awkward and your breathing got more shallow as he leaned in further, effectively popping your personal bubble. You turned your head, shaking violently against the possibilities of what he could do and wishing for the life of you, you could defend yourself. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’ His words ghosted over you. ‘Think about it. All those late nights working, and early morning texts, all the memories we have together…’ His gaze dropped to your lips. ‘How else did you expect me to respond?’

‘Not like that!’ You found the energy to spit the words at him. This was so hard. Addressing it, making it real. ‘I never asked for that.’ You closed your eyes and vehemently denied his manipulation.

You knew yourself. You never thought of him that way.

He hummed. He was calm. Too calm for your liking. ‘I’ve missed you.’ Me too. But the old you. The good you. ‘I’ve missed our talks and our phone calls.’

The good days. Pathetic. You were pathetic! Because some part of you longed for those days back. Some part of you still hoped he would remember that there really were good days and some amazing memories, as a daughter, as a mentee, as a friend. Some part of you wanted him to be better, to stand before you and apologize. Some part of you still fucking cared about him.

And you hated how dirty you felt to even validate those feelings, because in your mind and maybe in general, it invalidated what he did to you. You made it okay. But it was not. It was far from okay. You hated feeling like you were used this whole time – like none of it was real. You hated that you had to deal with the pain, the betrayal, the loss of a father figure all over again.

Above all you longed for this all to be over and act like it never happened just so you didn’t have to suffer through the memory of it. You wished he would look at his actions, his behavior toward you, and think and fucking realize that what he did was wrong.

‘Would it be so hard,’ his one hand lifted a strand of your hair and ran it through his fingers. You wanted to turn away from the sight when he bent his head to sniff it, but you willed yourself to meet his gaze when he was done, ‘to think of me in that way.’ His eyes roved over your face, gauging for a reaction, the intention in them making you want to cower in fear. 'You want me, you just don't know it yet.'

You shook your head as he tucked your hair behind your earlobe and the knuckle of his middle finger brushed against the underside of your ear. You shut your eyes and forcefully opened them again – you wanted to keep your eyes open. You had to see. ‘Years, y/n.’ The backs of his fingers traced over your cheek. ‘Years we spent together. The things I have wanted to do to you. And your pretty breasts.’ He leaned in. ‘And your lips… ‘A satisfied rumble rolled out of him. ‘Years of imagining how you would taste --,’

‘No! Oh god, no. Please, stop.’ Your voice shook as you turned away in revulsion. You wanted to drop to your knees and hide in a ball. The very thought of it, combined with the wetness between your legs from your earlier antics had you feeling sick to your stomach. Namjoon. Internally you begged for your husband, because this was one demon, you couldn’t fight alone. Namjoon, please.

‘I could take care of you, y/n.’ His sincere words made you cringe, unwilling to even fathom the idea he intended to bring across. ‘It could be like befor–,’

‘Y/n.’ Ria’s voice sounded through the hardwood and cut him off. Hope flared within you. ‘Babe, you’ve been in there awfully long.’ The handle turned, but the door didn’t open. Your heart sank. He’d locked the door. She rapped her knuckles on the wood. ‘Y/n, I can’t get in.’

‘Ria, hel -- !’ You yell in a panic and before Kwang covers your mouth with his hand. Ria, please, you screamed in your head.

‘Y/n!’ Ria called and turned the knob with more force.

You pushed at Kwang’s chest, your fear outweighing your disgust when he wouldn’t budge. His hand closed around your throat and pushed your head against the wall. Your eyes watered against the impact. And you blindly scratched and clawed at his hand. You couldn’t open your mouth, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t even cry out from how hard his thumb and forefinger held onto your jaw.

You squirmed when the hand over your mouth moved between the slit of your dress and his fingers drew a pattern against your inner thigh. Ice tore through you at the sudden reminder - 'No panties?' Kwang smiled crookedly. Finding it sexy. 'Makes this way easier than it needs to be.'

Your husband sure. You would forego underwear anytime. But with this man, you wished you had layers between you.

You cowered hard against the wall, wanting to get away from his touch. ‘Now drop your hands… and tell Ria you’re fine…’ he threatened you, ‘or I go higher.’

It was one thing to want to control you, but deriving pleasure from violence was something you had never experienced with him. He used to say that he loved you, cared for you… it was implied that he would never want to hurt you. But someone who loved you… wouldn’t do this.

You nodded fast, when his hand traced the seam between your inner thigh and vagina. 'You're wet, princess.' He breathes against you. 'Maybe you were built for a bit of pain with your pleasure after all.'

You shook violently and your stomach lurched at his implication. You would do as he said. As long as it bought you some time. He eased his hold on your jaw, but he kept his fingers placed perfectly, just in case you did the opposite of what he asked. ‘I-I’m fine, Ria. Just slipped.’

‘Oh fuck, are you hurt?’ She tried the doorknob again. ‘Are you able to get up? Try to let me in.’

‘I -,’ you yelped when he pinched your inner thigh, ‘-’ll be out in a minute.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Ria’s voice was unsure – and Ria was never unsure. Maybe she knew. Maybe she would get you out.

His fingers danced across your front, a whisper, a warning, and you squirmed, trying to push your body even further into the wall. 'I'm fine!' you repeated more forcefully, in an effort to be convincing.

You waited with baited breath, Kwang’s head inclined towards the door, as he listened to Ria’s footsteps disappear. He dropped his hand from between your dress and covered your mouth as soon as the words were out. ‘That wasn’t so hard,’ his warm breath grazed over your face, ‘was it?’

You swallowed hard against the bile at the back of your throat, trusted your instincts, like the last time and found it in you to bring your knee up, hard.

But he deflected your move by lifting his own leg and blocking your kick with his knee. ‘Ah-ah-ah!’ He tutted. ‘I know you, y/n.’ His nose brushed against yours and squirmed against the wall. 'Not again. Not this time.' Your nostrils burn as you recognize his cologne, a scent that was once so familiar, now repelled you. His eyes were the worst, his smirk, the zest in his features… something… something excited him about you fighting back.

Then you wouldn’t. It was an altogether different thing that some part of you couldn’t. You couldn't... move again. But how did you get out of this then?

His nose traced along your shoulder, inhaling your scent, getting a fill of whatever sick fantasy played in his head.

You clenched your fists at your sides, wanting to fight this, wanting to defend yourself, just to move, just to try, but when you made to move again… you just stood there. Frozen. You wished this would stop. You wished you could ask why he has to hurt you to get his point across and why now, why after all these years. Your eyes pleaded with him as he muffled your words and the panic overwhelmed you as the tears streamed down your face.

Please. Please. Please. You looked to the ceiling, wishing he would stop, wishing this would all be over.

Your nails dug into your skin, you remained unresponsive as his forefinger traced the seam of your dress on the one shoulder. A soft… light… horrifying touch, that teased your skin as his finger followed the strap from one shoulder to the top of your breast.

‘Fight, y/n.’ He egged you on. ‘You always liked to fight. All that spirit, all that fire.’

You grit your teeth. Closing your eyes, you retreated into yourself. Ice. Be ice. You went into that safe space in your mind, the cold state, the unresponsive one. You were in so much pain. Namjoon. Fuck it all to hell, would Namjoon think something else? If you even got out now, would your family even believe you? Would Namjoon think bad of you? Would he not want you anymore?

‘Guess I can admire my handiwork.’ He leered at you. ‘I was the one to tame you. I had to support you. I had to take care of you… some would say I practically raised you. And it was all so good, y/n.’ He sighs regretfully. ‘We had an arrangement, we had a bond… instead of embracing it, you turned your back on me.’

You heard him. But with every word he sounded further away, like ice water, tricking through your veins, until it formed a barrier, between what you were feeling and no feeling at all.

‘You couldn’t think about me, princess? You couldn’t spare me a little gratitude?’

Oh he had no idea, how many days and nights went by, where you felt like you were in the wrong, where you felt like you owed him for being there for you… and thank some sort of sane part of you, that gripped onto the will to distance and heal and take care of your bruised heart.

'But I'm here now,' he sounded like he actually believed that you still needed him, like you did back then. 'And we can pick up where we left off.'

You felt… nothing. Not anymore. The man from your past that you had respected, that you loved as a guardian, that you trusted to care for you… he was gone. In fact, he never really existed.

Funnily enough, it didn’t seem like he was too eager about getting his dick inside you.

Rape was faster than this right? You cringed internally at your choice of words. But that was what it was… sexual assault, abuse, grooming… rape. His belt would be unbuckled, his pants down his legs… And your mind maybe fuzzy, and back then it felt every bit like he wanted to force himself on you, which he did… but now… he was pacing himself. It was like he enjoyed… touching you, having access to your body as if he had any right over it. If you were being honest, it felt a bit like mind rape, like having your body respond or not respond physically, because of gentle touches and an emotionally warped connection, but an emotional connection nonetheless that could be drawn from. It made you feel even worse, it made you feel psychotic, because even though every cell in your brain screamed for you to react, your body remained frozen in fear and something… something in you was not pulling away completely. It was disgusting and wrong and you felt betrayed by your own body.

You were not getting out of this one.

And even if you did, you would still be in the wrong. Kwang Jae was a sociable, charismatic, smart, absolutely positive person. That more than made up for a good standing, because he could be that manipulative.

Sniveling openly, uncaring about whether or not he wanted to care, or wanted to hurt you, you realized, after this, you really were going to be all alone, because no one would believe you. Your family wouldn’t want you. Yuna would hate you, blame you, your husband… How could anyone believe in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself? This war inside you, it was exhausting…

You cried against his palm, when his fingertips traced the edge of your dress slit.

‘That’s better.’ He groaned against your cheek when your cries became vocal.

You leaned against the wall so your legs didn’t give out from under you, as you felt a hint of Kwang’s teeth against your shoulder. ‘Come on, princess, give me something. You’re not making this fun.’ A light kiss on your neck, the trail going south. ‘Talk to me, argue with me, just like how you spar with that husband of yours.’

Never! Your blood thrums under your skin and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself quiet, because nobody was allowed to compare themselves with your husband, least of all him.

‘Nothing?’ He lifted his head and gazed at you. ‘No reaction?’ His self-assured smirk chills you to the bone. ‘You must not love him as much as you claim.’ He muses. ‘Maybe all you did was try to replace me with him.’

You finally brought up your fists, struggling against him, a possessive rage in your gut that didn’t know fear, rearing its head when Kim Namjoon was in question.

He catches your wrists in his one free hand and holds them above your head, his elation so apparent it sickened you. ‘That’s more like it.’ He says in a low voice and uses the leverage he has on your hands to get closer to your body, his proximity a suffocating thing.

The air flexes as he leans in…

Wrong. His fingers sought higher, and you couldn’t let him do this to you. Wrong. This was wrong. He was wrong. It was all wrong. His words about your husband somehow woke you up. Your fingers curl back into fists. He's too heavy to push off, but… You bring your head front in a sharp motion, and headbutt him as hard as you possibly can.

He yelps, and clutches the soft bone of his nose and you forego the pain on your head for the freedom of your wrists.

You want to ignore the instinctive feeling, the anger, the rage, the part of you that wants to fight and get you in trouble with him, because you know it would be no use, but you couldn’t ignore it!

Using all of those feelings of motivation, you pulled back your fist and swung as hard as you could, praying to something or the other in the universe that you met your mark. It did just that as you heard flesh meeting flesh.

‘Fuck!’ Kwang exclaimed as he reared back and held his jaw.

You shook with the force of your actions, an internal war causing complete and utter chaos, because he was the closest man you used to have as a father, and the greatest mentor that helped you hone your skills and you would have once done anything to make him proud and make him happy but not this!

You swatted your tears away and watched as he moved his jaw, then laughed. The fucker laughed as his nose bled and it was terrifying. But you felt the adrenaline.

This man exploited you. He used his niece to get close to you, he used his relationship with your father as leverage, work as an excuse and respect, loyalty, love, for his sick mind games to have some sort of control over you, to be revered, and now you knew, you were nothing… but a good piece of ass.

You breathed hard, your vision got clear, and you held your hands in front of you as the burn in the backs of your eyes consumed you in a feral rage you didn’t know you had. You would get out of this, without screaming, or yelling, or however. But you would!

There’s a glint in his eye when he finally makes eye contact with you. A switch from his calm facade turning into something you’ve never seen…something dark and twisted… Kwang lunged for you at the same time that the door swung open – then all hell broke loose.

###

‘Motherfucker! Get your fucking hands off my wife!’ Namjoon grabbed Kwang by his collar and pulled him back away from you.

Damsel in distress bullshit aside, you were so fucking glad to see him. Namjoon grabbed Kwang by his lapels and punched him in the jaw. He was going to do it again when Jin blocked your view.

‘Y/n,’ Jin rushed toward you and cupped your face in his hands. ‘Are you okay?’ He searched your face and gave you a once over.

Your face screwed up, a pathetic attempt not to fall apart as you dived in his arms. Jin crushed you to him, just as Ria came up from behind. ‘I’m sorry, I had to, I, he –’

‘It’s okay,’ she caressed your hair and comforted you, checking for any marks or bleeding.

You watched as Kwang fought back, swinging wildly, but your husband was too far gone. Kwang was no match for Namjoon’s height, or his build, not to mention his rage. Namjoon turned Kwang around and slammed him face first into the wall. And he pulled back and did it again. ‘Joon, stop!’ Yoongi grabbed one hand, but Namjoon shrugged him off and did it again, until he heard a crunch of bone. ‘Namjoon!’ Yoongi turned around and pushed at his chest. ‘Stop! Y/n needs you!’

Kwang slumped to the floor and spat blood from his dripping nose. ‘Pretty boy packs quite a punch.’ The fucker was till smiling. It was sadistic.

Years. Fucking years and you had never seen this side. Not even who, but what… what did you trust… how…

‘Shut the fuck up!’ You had never heard Hobi speak like that. He lifted Kwang by his arms with the help of Jungkook and shoved him out of the restroom away from you and Namjoon.

Namjoon whirled on you, and the raw fury in his eyes, made you flinch out of Jin’s hold and back up against the wall. Your husband didn’t back down even then as he approached you. He would never hurt you, but it was till fucking terrifying. ‘What. The fuck. Did he do?’ He grit out.

You bit your lip and avoided eye contact.

‘Y/n.’ Namjoon prompted you again, his nostrils flared but his voice was calmer than you’d like to admit.

‘Joon maybe –,’

Ria was silenced with a look.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to make Namjoon mad, you didn’t want him to look at you with pity, or worse, like you were… damaged. A heaviness settled in your chest when Namjoon stands in front of you, lifts your chin up with two fingers, and something tears into you to see him so upset. His muscles bunched up, his stormy gaze, your husband was in a state and it was all your fault.

Holding onto your forearm, Namjoon crowded you. ‘Baby,’ He dropped his forehead against yours.

Tears welled up and your teeth clamped shut. But as he stared you down, as he coaxed you, and reminded you he was there, that he would handle this, that he would take care of it no matter what it was. For once, or in fact, just like every time, when it came to Kim Namjoon, you gave in.

Your voice shakes, and you purse your lips, as your chest burns. ‘He tried to - to, m-me,’ you lift your hands in an effort to speak clearly, ‘he, tou-, tried to, m-, me.’ Your tremulous tone was a testament to exactly how unsteady you were.

Apparently that was all he needed to hear. Namjoon’s jaw grew impossibly defined, sharper, harder, until his rapid breathing and flared nostrils were too much for even his body to contain. With a snarl, an ugly sound torn from his chest, he turned to walk in the direction of Hobi and Kwang.

‘N-No, don’t go!’ You cried out after him. ‘Namjoon, no!’ You grabbed the end of your dress with your good hand, and ran after him. In this mood, in this rage, even if it was because of you, Namjoon couldn’t do anything to him. He had a reputation to protect.

‘I should kill you for ever touching her!’ Namjoon stormed over to where Hoseok held Kwang by his lapels in the middle of the hall, just passed the music set up and took over, much to the surprise of the onlookers. Surprise because Hoseok initiated it or because Namjoon was enabling such behavior, you didn’t know, you also didn’t care.

‘Do it. Fuck him up!’ Hoseok egged him on. ‘I’ll just say it was self-defense.’

‘I second that.’ Yoongi added.

Yeon and Xan had already decided to back up your family, showing where their loyalty was as they flanked Yoongi.

Kwang’s gaze danced from Hoseok, to Yoongi and back to you. He smiled a bloody smile. ‘One cock isn’t enough for you, y/n? You had to try all?’

You inhaled sharply at the rude insinuation. It wasn’t so much that it was said to you. Being called a whore? Fuck that. But… you looked at the faces of your family, you would never want to hurt them.

Kwang sniggered, seemingly out of sorts, nothing about saving face or keeping up facades. ‘You little bi --,’

Another fist was slammed into Kwang’s jaw, causing him to veer out of Namjoon’s grasp and back a few steps. You covered your mouth with your hands, wondering if everyone had lost their fucking minds.

Before he could gain his balance, Namjoon cut off his air supply, by pushing him against the wall, an arm pushing firmly against his throat as your father got nose to nose with Kwang. ‘Don’t you dare, talk about my daughter that way.’

Nothing could have prepared you, absolutely nothing, to see your father defend you, not verbally, not physically and especially against someone he never had before.

‘Of course, y/n wants all of us,’ Taehyung took the new turn of events in stride, swirled the drink in his hand, ‘she’s building a harem.’

You had a feeling Taehyung only had the drink in his hand because he needed something to do with his hands… or he’d be as wild-card as Hobi was – the sun devoid from the male in question as he paced behind Namjoon.

‘So, yours wouldn’t meet any expectation,’ Jin pointed out casually while playing along.

You made a face. This wasn’t the time to joke.

Kwang struggled against your husband’s hold. ‘Sung -- ,’

‘Shut up!' Sung growled and spat at his feet. 'You turned me against my own daughter, all these years, all this time.'

Kwang’s next words tore your breath from your lungs, the confirmation ripping through an old wound that refused to heal. ‘You knew she was telling the truth,’ Kwang’s teeth were bloody, his nose at an odd angle, but he berated your father nonetheless, ‘You knew! But your company and our partnership… your reputation was too important.’

Your father turned back to look at you, and you saw the truth, the remorse in his eyes. But it was too late. Back then… all you needed was for him to believe you. If he had shown that, you would have saved his reputation, you would have done whatever he asked, you would never be anyone’s problem. That he didn’t, that he chose what was important to him, when you were the one that was supposed to be the priority… it was too late. You let him see your anger, your hurt, your betrayal… and satisfaction washed over you when shame etched its way on his features.

‘We could break you,’ Namjoon threatened, not bothering to stoke old flames, ‘right here, right now for even daring to lay a single finger on my wife.’

‘I’d kill you for even thinking about touching her at all.’ Hoseok glared, his eyes colder than you’d ever seen them. ‘You sick fuck!’ His body trembled in a fury, his breaths becoming sharper as he worked himself up. Yoongi placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard.

‘Your friend over here seems angrier than you,’ Kwang aimed the statement at Namjoon, ‘internal politics perhaps.’

‘Fuck you!’ Hoseok spat.

‘Ah,’ Kwang nodded with what little motion he had, ‘A husband who's the leader, a ‘close’ friend that’s almost snarling in possessive ferity, and a band willing to tank everything for one woman… and I’m the one being blamed?’ His tone held incredulity.

It took you a second, the fog in your brain was too much to handle, but you got it at almost the same time everyone else did. He was insinuating that you were a whore. Again.

Hoseok lunged, and Yoongi held him back before he could do anything. But the most surprising defense came from someone else.

’No one,’ A cold hiss like an ice pick dancing across your spine, ‘is allowed to talk about my Noona that way.’ Jungkook’s voice was edgy, grated, a harshness that you would have never expected from him, and the heavy silence that descended after left you reeling from the amount of respect it held.

Tears pricked your eyes.

Kwang hummed. You knew what he was thinking, Jungkook was the youngest, and would be the most vulnerable to manipulation. ‘Y/n, still using your charm as usual,’ Kwang hissed at you, ‘come on, princess, don’t let me take all the blame.’

‘Don’t look at her,’ Jin made a face and embraced you so you were blocked from view.

You stared at Kwang like he was a stranger. This wasn’t the man that grew you up to be strong and smart and encouraged you to live life, this was not your mentor, or your friend… you had to look away. It hurt – it cut deeply, into a wound you had fooled yourself into thinking was scabbed over.

‘Fuck this! Call the police, or get rid of him.’ Taehyung said, as he came up to you, his eyes giving you a once over, stopping at the whiskey stain.

You looked at him, wanting to tell him how sorry you were, but when he met your gaze you saw sadness – a sadness for you… You couldn’t work with sad. Anger was better. But you hated when your family was sad.

‘Yeon and Xan will hide the body…’ Jimin motioned toward them.

‘And everyone here,’ Hoseok spread his arms wide, indicating to the few people around the room, ’will be none the wiser.’

‘I’m right here,’ Kwang grit out, clearly offended that they were talking across him.

‘Who gives a fuck?’ Jimin countered.

Kwang spat blood on the floor, speaking through your father’s strong hold. ‘She’s not worth it.’

A moment suspended in time. You held your breath, waiting for the other shoe to fall. But even if it did, it would bear so little impact compared to Yoongi’s next words.

‘Then why does it hurt,’ the stoic male muttered, his face sporting a devilishly satisfied smirk from behind Hobi, a heavy hand still holding onto the usually more optimistic member of the band, ‘that she never, ever once, would even consider … choosing you.’

You winced at the brutal statement, remembering all too well that Yoongi was quiet not only because he had a strong foundation and a good head on his shoulders, but that the yang of that yin combination was an indication of his capability of cruelty.

Kwang’s face turned ugly from the remnants of a badly bruised ego.

Namjoon held a hostile stance, next to your father, all but encouraging any of his actions. A piece of your heart turned over at the idea of them finally being on the same page, but the empty pit of your stomach was too uncomfortable for you to ignore.

The people around you, Yeon and Xan, Ria, your mom… no one stepped in, no one interfered.

Your maknaes, Taehyung, Jimin, even Jungkook, were content to let this carry on, their eyes blazing with a fury on your behalf – a love so true it could bring you to your knees.

You looked up at Jin, suddenly all too aware of his arms, steel bands holding you in place, ready to stand in front of you or hold you to him, but protect you with everything in his power. Your chest felt like lead, at the realization that Kwang could actually die here, no one would stop it, no one would even try.

But your husband was not a killer. Neither was your father, not directly. And your family should not be in the category of aiding and abetting murder.

Even in your own head, it all seemed a tad bit dramatic, but you could feel the tension in the air.

‘Let him go.’ You said in a raspy tone. Everyone turned to you. You could imagine how you looked, terrified, with your hair out of place, make-up stained, but you didn’t back down. ‘Yuna,’ you gulped, ‘can’t know about this.’ You took in a shaky breath. ‘And in order for her not to know… you have to let him go.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Hoseok snarled at you. ‘This bastard belongs in jail, or worse.’

You saved the pain from Hobi’s lashing for later as you met Namjoon’s eyes. They were dark, shimmering with fury and the knowledge of what that day had cost you and how much harder it would be after this… but you didn’t back down this time. ‘You got to me in time.’ You implored him with everything in you, showed every vulnerable aspect of you for him to understand that you would have fought this, you would have slayed this demon, if only Yuna’s heart wasn’t on the line. ‘Please.’ It was a plea, to let it be and let it go.

The people around you… you would deal. The questions, the pitiful looks and the shamelessness of it all, but you would handle it from your end – you would rather your life turn upside down, as long as Yuna’s stayed intact. As long as the band could go back to the way they used to be.

‘Who’s to say he won’t tell her himself? Play the victim?’ Ria countered your argument, a disappointment laced in her tone that made your heart even more heavy. ‘Maybe it’s time she knew, y/n.’

‘This is ridiculous, y/n!’ Hoseok shouted at you. ‘Look at the amount of people around you. Look at the witnesses. You can’t live with the fear that she would choose him over you!’

‘Shut up, Hobi!’ You knew he was right, but you hated hearing the truth, you were not strong enough for it at this moment. But as usual, after years of knowing you, vulgarity was not a fresh concept between you.

He wasn’t offended, however, his next words indicated he was clearly incensed. ‘Yuna is not your father!’

‘Hobi,’ Yoongi cautioned as he regarded you.

Hoseok made a frustrated sound and turned away.

‘Hobi’s right…’ Everyone whirled around to find Yuna at the entrance, her arms folded across her chest. ‘I am not your father.’

Your legs buckled, and a pained noise burst through your chest. You would have fallen flat if Jin didn’t hold you against him.

Something… snapped… inside you. It took years, years of silence, years of biting your tongue, years of triggers that you used iron will to keep at bay, to keep hidden from her. Pushing her away, forcing distance, having one of the biggest fights of your life… and it all just came tumbling down in front of you, like a gust of wind on your tower of cards.

Yuna spared you a glance – a multitude of emotions passing between you in the moment. Anger. Fear. Hurt.

‘Yuna,’ Kwang smiles in momentary relief, ‘You wouldn’t believe what they’re accusing me of.’

She tilted her head to the side. ‘What’s that?’

‘They think I tried to hurt, y/n. That I tried to abuse her. Can you believe that– Let go of me Namjoon!’ If you didn’t know any better, you figure your husband must have been pressing on Kwang’s neck with every word he dared to utter.

Yuna says nothing when Namjoon let’s Kwang fall.

Kwang wipes the blood as he stands up and approaches her, limping, making a show of being pitiful. ‘This is clearly y/n. She’s still angry about the Legacy, won't even talk to me,’ he scoffs. Yuna doesn’t even react to him and it only makes Kwang squirm out an explanation.

‘And when I approached her this is how she reacted. Sicced her family on me. It’s quite dramatic if you ask me…’ He shakes his head, glances at you, then looks back at his niece as you wait with baited breath. Only the sound of Kenta’s footsteps could be heard.

Kwang sighed and smiled. ‘You’re not buying any of this are you?’

You stared at him bewildered. Such a bold admission was in tune with his character, but it still caught you off guard.

‘She deserves a bit more credit than that.’

Kenta’s voice made you shudder slightly. He did nothing to mask the underlying threat in it. And if you thought the band was capable of violence in this situation, Kenta, on the other hand, was a different story. His profession thrived on violence, someone who had actually had blood stain his hands, regardless of the reason – he had a penchant for it, not just the potential. He wouldn’t just have to order Xan or Yeon to do the dirty work… he would handle it himself.

Yuna’s nostrils flared and her lip trembled. ‘How could you?’ Her voice was deceptively soft.

‘He’s always been this way, Yu. Even before he fixated on y/n.’

What?

You stared at Kenta, the bomb he’d just dropped leaving debris around you. Kwang had done this before?

Yuna looked up at her husband. ‘You knew.’ It wasn’t a question. She then dropped her head and muttered, ‘Of course you did.’ A reminder that her husband was no ordinary man.

Kwang’s eyebrows drew. He was visibly thrown off at Yuna’s reaction, but he also didn’t back down. ‘He’s lying! He’s lying to save her! Come on, sweetheart. How much time have y/n and I spent together? So many hours, so many memories… You’ve been witness to our interactions.' His voice dropped an octave, coaxing, manipulating. ‘Am I really that insane? She’s always had a thing for me. You can’t deny it.’ He turned to look at you. ‘And she’s always been mine.’

A vile feeling overcame you and had you shuddering in Jin’s hold.

Namjoon’s response was immediate – and violent. He growled as he rushed at Kwang and punched him again, blood sputtering from his mouth and onto your father’s shirt as he fell to the floor. Sung didn’t even flinch. Namjoon grabbed Kwang’s collar, lifting half his body up as he did so, a show of strength that made him seem even less of the calm, collected Namjoon you were accustomed to. ‘Say it again,’ his quiet tone raises the hairs on your nape. ‘Call my wife yours again, I dare you.’

Kwang glared at your husband, but didn’t repeat his words. He didn’t call you his again. Instead he refocused on your father as Kenta pulled Namjoon off him.

‘What’s the matter, Sung? Can’t handle the fact that I was a better father figure?’

‘Father figure?’ Sung scoffed. ‘I hurt her. But not the way you have. I never witnessed a side of y/n that trusted me to keep her safe, she withheld her love. For good reason, of course. But you?’ Sung clicked his tongue. ‘You had a gift in the palm of your hand, and you savaged it – beyond repair.’

‘I did nothing I was not entitled to.’ Kwang decreed, his chin raised a fraction as he made to stand up, swaying on his feet but feeling and showing no remorse, none at all.

Yuna narrowed her gaze. ‘Who are you?’ She asked so quietly, it resonated with an old wounded part of your heart. Because for how long, had you been asking yourself that question?

‘What do you want from me, Yuna? I did my fair share. In fact, I did my best for you and Helen. That doesn’t change. My love for you and your sister will never chan –,’

Yuna held her hand up. ‘It changes everything.’ She went to take a step forward, the betrayal radiating off her in waves, but Kenta moved to stand between them, effectively keeping her in place. ‘You used me.’ The sentence was torn out of her. Oh my Yuna. ‘Used me to get to her.’ She pointed to you.

‘And you played your part so well, like it was some sort of sick game.’ Her face twisted in disdain. ‘So many sleepovers. Family dinners. Work meetings.’ She croaked, as her mind processed every single bit of information to slot next to the truth of her Uncle. ‘Y/n was never safe.’ She accused. ‘Ohmygod, you could have done anything at anytime.’

‘Exactly. And I didn’t. Y/n needed to realize her feelings first.’ He caught the last sentence and latched onto it as if it was of any use to save him. ‘Why are you not factoring y/n into this? Is it really so hard to accept that she came onto me? That she wants me. The signs were there!’

Your face twisted in revulsion because what fucking signs?

Deadly silence coated the air, as if every individual present rejected Kwang’s question all at once.

‘You’re an asshole.’ Ria scoffed and broke the tension. ‘A typical, male, asshole.’

Understatement of the century.

Everyone turned to look at her, but she didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. ‘I was there. The day y/n ran out of the conference room. The minute she walked out of her father’s office, tears streaming down her face…I was there. There was no way, she was in the wrong that day, and I have no doubt you did your best to finish the job today.’ Ria folded her arms, daggers as she stared Kwang down. ‘Either way, y/n would never come onto you. She would never want you.’

‘Loyalty is a respectable trait, Ria. Lying isn’t.’

‘Go fuck yourself,’ she murmured without emotion, dismissing Kwang like he was little less than a fly in the vicinity.

‘He can’t. He’s too busy trying to fuck with everyone else.’ Hoseok’s fury had become leashed… somewhat.

‘What do you mean ‘that day’, Ria?' Yuna asked, confused. 'Which day? What are you talking about?’ Oh no.

You mentally willed for Kenta to meet your eye, somehow protect Yuna from this at least, but when he did, you realized it would be futile. You would no longer be able to protect her. ‘The reason y/n pushed you away, the reason she broke off all contact with Kwang and her father.’

‘He attempted this before.' Kenta confirmed. 'On the Pandora project. She defended herself and got out in time. But the matter never escalated.’ Kenta leveled a glare in your father’s direction. ‘The partners never found it necessary to do so.’

Yuna shot you an incredulous look. ‘This was why you were so distant?’

You looked down. You couldn’t defend yourself.

‘I’m not even surprised with you, Sung.’ Yuna did nothing to hide the malice in her tone. ‘But you, y/n? Keeping this quiet? For all these years? You’re ready to fight the world for someone you love, but didn’t do it for yourself?’ Yuna was shouting now. ‘You retreated into yourself and you were so quiet and so… ‘ Yuna balled up her hands in fists and shook them, ‘so wound up and suffocated.’

‘After you took over…’ Her eyes darted from side to side as she made more connections. ‘No. It was before that.’ She looked up at you. ‘There were changes before that. You didn’t come over anymore. And you always made excuses not to hang out when he was around. You died, y/n.’ Severe words that made too much sense. ‘You died until you took over the company, but even then you were the fucking living dead.’ Her voice broke. ‘You left me.’ Your throat closed up. ‘You pushed me away,’ she cried, ‘because he’d hurt you and you didn’t want to hurt me.’

You shook your head, your throat closing up and your eyes becoming blurry at the devastation you heard in her voice. Don’t cry, you didn’t want her to cry.

‘All these years, y/n. So much pain, so much that you handled alone…’ Yuna stifled a sob as she covered her mouth, ‘And I didn’t know a fucking thing!’ She turned away from you and fell into Kenta’s open arms as she broke down. His hand covered the back of her head easily, shielding her, keeping her close, keeping her safe.

You didn’t know how to fix this. On one hand you wouldn’t change your decision. You didn’t regret not telling her. But now that she knew… you’d never thought this far. No one was supposed to know. No one was supposed to find out. It was your pain and your trauma and your nightmares – any of those shadows eclipsing any of your loved ones lives was never the plan.

‘You could have told me.’ She said wetly, her voice muffled by Kenta’s coat.

‘It wasn’t your burden to bear.’ I didn’t want to lose you.

‘The hell it wasn’t!’ She broke out of Kenta’s hold and yelled at you. ‘What do you take me for, y/n!’

Frustration surfaced. You would not explain your actions to anyone. No one. No one knew how you felt, no one could feel your pain. ‘No one believed me, Yuna.’

‘I would have believed you!’

‘My own father didn’t even believe me!’

‘I am not your fucking father!’

Sung winced at her tone.

‘You would have believed her over me.’ Kwang questioned his niece.

‘It would have been a punch to the gut,’ Yuna replied, not looking at him, her tone aiming to rub anyone with a semblance of self-respect, the wrong way. ‘But it wouldn’t have cut deeper than knowing I forced y/n through my wedding with her abuser over her shoulder.'

Kwang mouthed the word ‘abuser’ as if he didn’t know what the term meant, as if he wasn’t one. ‘How can you talk to me this way?’

‘Did you not,‘ Yuna raised her voice with every word, her patience worn thin, ‘try to take advantage of my best friend Uncle?’ She spat the familial term as if it was a slur.

Kwang pursed his lips.

Yuna nodded her head in resignation. ‘Exactly.’ She threaded her fingers through Kenta’s. ‘Do what’s necessary.’ There was no room for misunderstanding. Kenta would deal with Kwang Jae.

You swallowed hard. ‘No.’

‘Ignore her.’ Yuna dismissed you. ‘I’m done with this. It’s over. He needs to go.’

‘I said no!’

She screamed back at you. ‘Why! What are you so afraid of?’

The satisfaction of having everything out in the open devolved fast into anxiety. ‘Can’t you see that you have careers in the public eye, reputations to protect! We can’t have this getting out. I don’t want it to get out.’

‘You aren’t alone, y/n.’ Kenta reminded you. ‘And you aren’t in the wrong.’

‘But I would have to deal with it.’

‘Y/n, honey, please –,’ Hobi tried for reason.

You cut him off. ‘Let him go.’

You would not let anyone have a field day with this bullshit. Not now, not ever. Justice meant nothing. You already knew, even if you envisioned Kwang behind bars, it wouldn’t be satisfying… neither would seeing him dead do any good.

That’s what happened when you accepted things as they were. And you have always been able to afford balance on the outside, for the external, for the people around you and for life to go on… all at the expense of your sanity. Because inside you, it was pure carnage. It was all you knew. But you could handle your pain. It was your pain. Your pain would not be anyone else's burden, or entertainment.

Jin looked down at you, his heavy gaze unfolding your ruse into reality. ‘Why are you being like this?’ He asked softly.

You averted your gaze. It was an easy answer. ‘He’s not worth it.’

Jin’s eyes shined with age-old knowledge and unbridled empathy. ‘He’s not worth it, y/n… or you?’

You bit back a retort at the stark honesty in his words. They stung. And some vindictive part of you felt that they were making a mockery of your pain, pushing you to do what was right, showcasing your trauma like it would be a tale of strength. But Jin was right, you didn’t feel the fight for you would be worth it. You would not make it anyone else's problem. There was no room for y/n to be ruining anyone’s life – unintentionally or not.

‘Y/n, you need to do this for yourself babe.’

You shook your head against Ria’s words. Not this time. You were not the heroine, or the damsel that was saved, or the one everyone would look up to because you were ‘so brave’. You would do what felt right for you, regardless of how it looked to anyone else.

‘Y/n don’t give him an out.’ Namjoon spoke so softly, it stripped your heart open. ‘Do you understand, that letting him go,’ Namjoon pointed to Kwang, ‘that letting him walk, after what he’s done, and attempted to do, not once, but twice, that he would be getting exactly what wants.’ Namjoon glared at you. ‘He had the balls to do it, because he knew you would make the call to let him go.’ A shadow passed over his features, ‘If you do this, you would be taking away my right to protect you.’

Yoongi inclined his head. ‘Are you willing to accept the risk of ever seeing him again? He could easily go to the papers, y/n.'

He wouldn’t fuck up his own life. But you didn’t answer Yoongi. Right now, you had no strength and you didn’t care. You wanted this night over with. You wanted to go home.

‘Don’t do this, y/n,’ Hoseok’s voice held a glacial unevenness. A clear sign of how enraged he was, but how much of a tight leash he had on it.

So angry, but still listening to you, still taking your word into account.

‘If you want to put him behind bars… I’ll support you this time,’ your father looked over his shoulder at you.

‘We owe you much more,’ Ra-Mi ran gentle fingers through your hair.

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stand it. And it would be logical to find the so-called justice they sought for you, and years earlier it would have made all the difference. But you were married now and it mattered because of who you were married to. You would not put Yuna or the band through any of it. It was too late.

‘Y/n --,’ Yoongi whispered, when he came to stand next to you.

You turned into Jin's chest and hid between his arms. Having no strength to deal with Yoongi’s disappointment. ‘Please, just, let him go. Let him leave.’

‘Hyung, do something.’ Jungkook barked.

No one reprimanded the youngest. No one believed he said anything wrong in the first place. Neither did you. The silence was thick and heavy, until Namjoon spoke.

‘My wife has been through enough tonight.’ His tone was clipped. ‘We should do as she says.’

His words were met with immediate protest.

‘Hyung, you can’t!’ Jimin shouted from beside Jungkook.

‘Namjoon-ah!’ Jin and Yoongi scolded, the eldest clutching you tighter, as if letting Kwang go would somehow endanger you further.

As you turned in Jin’s arms, you focused on your husband, you saw his lip curl back in a silent snarl at his brothers’ contradictions. You couldn’t imagine what Namjoon was going through. A man had his hands on you, to hurt you, to claim, to control… Now his brother’s were disappointed in him. Again.

You met his gaze again, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, a final attempt to change your mind.

You whimpered softly and his jaw set… it was answer enough for him, before he shoved Kwang back into the wall.

‘I don’t give a fuck,’ you shut your eyes against Namjoon’s voice, ‘where you go or what you do, but know this, if you ever come near Y/n again, I will make sure you regret it.’ A sound of impact. ‘Do you understand?’

You heard Kwang’s feet flatten against the floor when Namjoon finally let him down.

‘I owe you a lifetime of resentment.’ You heard your father say.

You turned your head in Jin’s arms, wanting to take in the scene before you, wanting to watch him leave.

The disappointment bled from Namjoon, but you didn’t budge, trauma response or not, Kwang needed to fuckoff – you wanted nothing to do with him.

‘We’ll walk you,’ Kwang grimaced at Jimin, most likely observing their age gap and feeling highly disrespected. ‘Make sure you actually leave this time.’

Kwang looked over at you.

‘Move!’ Jimin berated him. The hyung of the maknae line was in no mood to play.

‘That’s a tad disrespectful, don’t you think so, Jimin?’ You rolled your eyes inwardly. You knew him so well. ‘What would your parents think?’

Your eye twitched. The bastard had no right to talk about Jimin’s parents. No one defended the male that cared the most and loved without abandon, but you soon realized that there wasn’t a need.

Jimin walked up to Kwang, despite the height difference, Jimin still managed to look like the more intimidating one. ‘You are more than welcome, to explain your actions, how I am treating you and await their verdict on the matter, but I assure you,’ Jimin’s lips lifted, a chilling glare that had you fisting on Jin’s jacket, ‘They wouldn’t waste even their sympathy on scum like you.’ Jimin’s eyes flashed fire. ‘Now start walking!’ the hyung of the maknae line turned away and muttered, ‘Get you as far away from my family as possible.’

They were almost to the entrance when Yuna spoke. ‘Uncle.’ Four pairs of dress shoes stopped in their tracks.

‘That you are walking out of here on your own, is a statement of how big y/n’s heart is.’ Her voice didn’t waver, not even a little. ‘It’s a clear sign that there could have only been one person to blame for all of this.’

You felt the words caress against the pieces of your broken heart, so delicate. At the same time you felt Yuna’s pain, the brutal decision you knew she’d just made, rebounding off her life in so many ways, she was yet to see the consequences.

‘Understand that if you do anything more, y/n will not be dealing with you, the people surrounding her will. And if it wasn’t clear enough already,’ she spoke to the ground. A sign that it was too painful, and that she had no choice. ‘We are no longer family.’ She swallowed hard. ‘We have nothing more to do with each other.’

You wanted to gauge Kwang’s reaction but you were stuck on Yuna. No other human being would ever give up as much as she had for you, without a second thought, without a shred of regret.

Taehyung sighed. ‘I need more alcohol.’

‘The champagne has a cork in it.’ Jungkook offered, as they flanked Jimin.

‘Oh good,’ Jungkook earned a clap on the back from the hyung that was every bit his best friend and more, ‘it shoots and makes an impact if we aim it in the right direc --,’

Their words died as they left the hall. The joke was dry, unnecessary, but they were reeling from a tragic truth and they would cope the only way they knew how.

You blew out a puff of air against Jin’s suit jacket and he rubbed your back comfortingly.

Something needed to be said, something to fill the silence. The bartenders still hadn’t left, neither did the hall manager and her two staff… you wanted to groan out loud, this was just another media scandal waiting to happen anyway.

Your eyes darted over their forms, as the momentary realization sent you into a panic. Your renewed shaking must have alarmed Jin, because all of a sudden you were out of his arms and he got in your face. ‘Breathe. Breathe for me, it’s okay sweetheart.’

‘Th-they,’ you motioned your head towards the bar, your voice wobbly as you tried to explain.

Yoongi’s eyebrows were scrunched in confusion, but he soon caught on when he looked at the staff. He stepped into your personal space and bent his head to make eye contact with you. ‘We’ll handle it.’

‘Wh-,’ Jin started, but Yoongi explained the situation in a hushed whisper before making his way over to the bar.

Ria was already way ahead of them as she made her way to the hall manager.

Yeon and Xan regarded you silently. You didn’t have it in you to look them in the eye. Not yet.

‘Y/n,’ Sung came up to you.

You shook your head vehemently. ‘No.’ As grateful as you were, you couldn’t deal with him right now. ‘No, please, I can’t.’ You couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t process it. ‘Whatever it is.’

It was too much. It was all too much.

‘Please listen to me,’ your father begged as he caught your elbow.

You shoved him away, taking Jin with you when you reared back. ‘I was so scared!’ You shouted, your voice rebounding off the walls as you ripped yourself open letting Sung Y/l/n hear the honest truth. ‘I was alone and I was scared!’ You repeated yourself, admitting to weakness when you never had. ‘And I needed you and you were never there! You weren’t there for me!'

Your father shrunk into himself at your outburst. Your mother cried harder next to him and you wanted to comfort her but with what? With what strength, with what stability? You had nothing, you were shattered from the inside out.

‘Just once, just once,’ you held your two fingers together in front of his face, ‘if you gave me a sign, that you believed me…’

‘I moved you from his department.’ Sung attempted to justify himself. ‘I changed your roles. I let you work independently, surpassing everyone’s expectations.’

You narrowed your gaze. ‘Am I supposed to fucking thank you?’ An acrid taste from your brutal words set in the back of your throat.

‘Please, y/n, I didn’t kn – , I –, I was trying to do what was bes –,’

‘Don’t you dare!’ Your forehead creased in an effort to keep frustrated tears at bay. ‘Don’t you dare, say you did anything for me. A punch and suddenly siding with me will not change what you've done!' Your face screwed up and a feeble sound made its way out of your throat. ‘Your own daughter!’ You cried openly.

‘I know! But he had major shares! He would have ripped everything away from us!’

‘He already did.’ Your mother’s words were filled with malice. And in another time you would have been able to appreciate them. But not as you stared at your father, a man who had put his company and his money and his reputation above your life, and after all of it was still making excuses – Sung Y/l/n, who had never and would never be your Dad.

‘All of this is because of you. All of it!’ You inhaled sharply, suddenly realizing that words would never get through his defenses. He would never see how much his decisions had cost him. Pure venom coated your next words. ‘It's too fucking late.’

It was nothing. Words a petulant child could have easily said. But you had nothing else left in you. You were done. Just done. Pulling away from Jin, you ran out of the hall as sobs bubbled out of your throat. You heard shouts behind you, but you were beyond caring. You didn’t care where you were going or how, or of who followed you, but you walked across the parking lot toward the open field opposite the hall. The snow was thick and your boots sunk right in, but you ran and then you walked until your breathing was labored and the cold poked at your skin… and your legs finally gave out from under you.

Your legs, exposed from the high slit, were frozen solid. Your dress was wet, so was your hair, but you couldn’t care less about appearances.

The wedding was the only big thing on your checklist for the day, and that went as well as it could have. Ria and the guys would sort out specifics. Kwang… a sob threatened to rip from your throat as you felt phantom fingers between your legs. Kwang was gone. Yuna… you would talk to her. Maybe, just maybe things would go back to normal.

‘Aah!’ You pulled away when a warm hand touched your shoulder. You looked up to find your husband looming over you. You reared back, away from him, away from his touch.

‘Y/n,’ Namjoon leaned toward you.

You avoided him by scooching further away. ‘Don’t touch me.’

Hurt clouded his features. ‘Baby --,’

‘No,’ you shook your head at him.

‘Y/n.’

You turn around to find Kenta behind you. When did he get to you? Were you so out of sorts?

Kenta bent down and rested in the snow. You winced visibly when he curled a protective arm around your shoulders. If he noticed, he didn’t show it as his other hand grabbed the wet trail of your dress, covered the exposed portion of your legs and rested his palm on your knee.

Taking deep breaths as you reminded yourself that he was checking for any injuries, a usual once over that was second nature, Kenta was safe and his touch was safe, it was a mantra until you eventually covered his hand with yours.

‘I’m fine,’ you reassured him. ‘I’m okay.’

Kenta pressed a kiss to your forehead, his movements tentative. ‘No, sweetheart.’ A term of endearment… ‘You’re not.’

You choked as his words slammed into you. Your eyes shut tight, to push away tears that were furious and unrelenting.

‘I’m sorry, Kenta. I’m so sorry!’ Kenta rocked you lightly as you lost control, your sobs becoming uncontrollable.

Why you? Why? You would never wish such things on anyone else, but why? You were not so strong. You had so much to be grateful for and you knew you were loved and there was so much to look forward to but… sometimes the pain was too much. Freshly wounded, bleeding and broken… when you were just now finding yourself, finding your husband…

You had little less of your youth left, no children, no responsibility that could not be handed over or handled… the burn under your skin and the agony that had no name turned you inside out. Was there really a need to recover from this? If you could just keep your eyes closed… if you could scream until your voice was silent… if you stopped breathing… if you just gave up…

A heat seeped through your boot by the ankle. You opened your eyes to find Namjoon crouching in front of you, trying to anchor you. You pulled your knees in toward your body and crushed your side into Kenta’s chest. ‘You can’t.’ You managed to gasp out.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed.

‘You can’t touch me. He touched me.’

Without warning Namjoon surged forward, grabbed you by your arms and hauled you into his chest.

‘Joon –,’ You heard Kenta warn tightly. But you were beyond logic.

‘You don’t know,’ you cry out and push against Namjoon’s chest. You wince in pain when you remember your injured palm.

Nevertheless, you struggle until he slammed his mouth against yours. His kiss was hard, hurtful, but all consuming, you could taste the anger on his tongue. ‘Don’t piss me off, y/n,’ he growled against your lips when you pulled away. Breathing hard, he touched his forehead to yours and held you close to him. His palm casing your cheek. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, baby.’

‘You don’t understand!’ Your chest splintered, your eyes burned with tears that wet your face and your hair and your insides screamed in helplessness – you always had doubts, insecurities about being good enough for Namjoon… now you knew, you never would be.

‘No, you don’t understand!’ He roared. ‘You said you were mine, just a few hours ago! You declared it, y/n. No matter what happens, or what we have to go through, we do it together! So don’t you dare push me away now.’ His voice dropped, and the pain you felt emanating from him threatened even the softest corners of your heart. ‘Don’t you dare. Not because of him. Not for anything.’

The ringing in your skull and the storm in your chest didn’t let up. ‘He touched me! He held his hand over my mouth and he tried to touch me,’ you vehemently confessed in a panic. ‘Tell me you can kiss me, Namjoon, touch me, have sex with me and not see what you walked into, not see him!’

Namjoon’s eyes were wild with emotion, his need to hold you to him, to anchor you, a palpable thing.

‘Because all I see is you! You, y/n. My wife, my love, my everything. The pain, the hurt, I want to take every bit of pain he’s caused and I want to make it better! I want to make it better! I will make it better! You were never his, y/n! You are and will always be mine! Nothing and no one can fucking threaten that.

Now, it’s fucking freezing cold, so we need to head back and we need to head home.’ He softened his hold. ‘Please, let’s go home.’

He didn’t understand. Fuck, he didn’t know, that the worst of it wasn’t the physical assault, it was the mental manipulation and every single shaky foundation in your head just fell out from under you. You didn’t know how to deal with that. ‘Namjoon, please,’ you gave up the fight and sobbed into his jacket.

His hands held you to him. ‘I’ll do anything you want, okay? I promise. But I need to get you home, away from here and away from everyone else. Please, just let me take you home.’

You dropped your forehead against his chest and sunk into his hold. You hated this. You hated the guilt of how at home you felt in the safe heat of his arms. His strength, his joy and his love… Because here you were…less, parts of you severed, and your whole psyche fractured on a level you knew, you knew you would never come back from.

Love. You loved him too much. You loved this man more than you thought you were ever capable of and you had chosen him over everything. Despite it all, you believed that he deserved someone whole, someone who could give him all of them, someone untainted. In your head you whimpered, because you didn’t have it in you to give him up.

The only question was whether he could bear this burden with you.

No. There was no question. Either way, you knew the answer. Like you knew Namjoon.

But would it grow to be a painful silence between you? A sore subject. A flaw you couldn’t help, a shortcoming you couldn’t change. With every jagged beat of your heart would you have to question the possibility, the fear… that he would one day choose to put that burden down.

Taglist - @casnextdoor @jaysdimples @belliebelle @pinkcherrybombs @sweetjellyfishland @blushingatyou @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue @somewhereinthestarss @k-brownsugar @namsona17 @taejinxkoya @notsooperfect @zae007live @its-hopes-world @shina913 @bri-mal @piecesofapril11 @kissme-ornot @toriluvsfics @agustdmwah @lochness-butmakeitsexy @petalsofink @definetlythinkimanalien @masterpiecejoonie @gcintia @danietoww04 @roguesthetic @rjsmochii @amymikaelson @hello-kittyy @mschievous247 @onlythehobi @deliciousdetectivestranger @daddypkj @callmemadhatter @rkivecenter @codeinebelle @creolesoul2seoul @nochelunaxx @serendididy [closed]

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Part 30 - Finale [E]

Part 30 - Finale [R]

Part 30 - Finale [V]

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vacantgodling · 1 year

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A FOOL’S ERRAND

(oc kiss week day 4: CHARM)

wip: paramour ROLE SWAP AU (more info linked)—tl;dr amon is rich hya is a useless butler leggo

character(s): amon & hya (does not use his full name in this au)

warning(s): swearing, bickering, make outs, loose interpretations of the prompt lmao

after a riveting rendition of the famous “fools errand” play, the subject of the legitimacy of love potions comes up between master and butler. growing irritated with his master’s winding logic, hya decides to disprove amon’s theory. or prove it—depending on how you look at it.

A Fool’s Errand—one of the newer plays that was making its rounds on the theatre circuit, and one that Amon was finally convinced to witness in person after his good friend and confidant Myrtus insisted. It was an excuse to get out of the house to be something other than a loiterer at The Nimbus. His butler was none too pleased being dragged out of the house for something as “goddamn boring as a bunch of underdressed clowns playing pretend for three hours.” But A Fool’s Errand was different. Hya said hardly a word throughout the whole showing. Amon knew from the few other times he’d brought his grouchy eye candy along that bitching was a core tenant of his appreciation of art, so to hear not a peep until the final brava! well. Amon found it almost endearing.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it.” Amon prattled as they made their way through the sea of the exit crowd. “The idea of a potion to force someone to fall in love with you. How would it work, do you think?”

“Your ilk use it all the time.” Hya’s arms were firmly crossed over his broad chest, creating a barrier between himself and anyone who so much as brushed against him and Amon silently congratulated himself on his impeccable choice of outfit this evening. The deep brown lapels against Hya’s chocolate skin, accented with forest green and gold, made him a present fit for a king, and his butler knew as much. Amon knew that Hya knew that he was staring. But they’d long passed the point of feigning shyness. “How do you mean?” Amon asked.

“Put enough coins in front of someone and they’ll bark like a bitch when you command it.”

“I’ve waved quite a few dollars at you—“

“And I said someone.” Hya snapped. His mood was always foul when it was crowded, Amon knew. He quickly weaved them through the throngs of play seekers, until they’d reached the lighted streets of Central Town. It was then that Amon saw Hya’s shoulders start to relax. He grew more confident, and placed a hand on the small of Hya’s back. The butler didn’t flinch.

“Sure.” Amon agreed easily, returning to their conversation. “But money is a conscious choice, no? The idea of a charm or a potion that could override consent or incentive to get the results you want is… fascinating.”

“Because you’re disgusting.” Even with heat, Amon knew there was little malice. Hya still wasn’t really meeting his eyes, and he always did whenever he wanted something to sting. That, and his tone was off handed. Like a passing thought in a winding stream. If he imagined Hya stepping closer to him, it was a lie he’d let himself believe. “Do you think something like that would be possible?” Amon asked, ignoring him. Hya’s gaze flit to his, carefully neutral.

“Hilarious that you’re still entertaining the thought.”

Amon rolled his eyes. “Can’t you humor me, for once in your life?”

Hya didn’t answer. He simply looked back ahead of them. “We drinking?” He asked instead. Amon looked up to the ever looming orange glow of The Nimbus’s hailing sign. He must’ve steered them here without thinking.

“Ah.” Amon cleared his throat. It couldn’t hurt, he decided. “Why not?”

“You can hardly hold your liquor.” A rare smirk slid onto Hya’s face, but it was gone faster than Amon could admire it. He’d never understand how his brain let him tangle feelings with someone of such bad temper but he regrettably knew—some part of him, that deranged, ignorant part of him—liked that about Hya.

“You’re no better.” Amon’s protest fell on deaf ears and the two of them made their way inside.

As usual they sat near the back where they wouldn’t be disturbed, a private table Amon had a monopoly on for years. The first two or three drinks passed uneventfully. He talked, more about the play, the decor, other things, and Hya answered when it was pertinent. Still, even that was an improvement—vastly more open than the Hya who merely glared and grunted at him only a few months before. Amon knew the feeling swelling in his gut was dangerous—with only his heartbreak as real consequence yet like the cocktail that swirled in his glass, or the one that traveled boldly down Hya’s throat, he was helpless to its affects. It made him tip his head back to chase the bitter feeling with another bitter dram. Its welcome sting made him sigh with a hiss.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

“What?” Amon asked.

“The charm?”

“Oh.” Amon was somewhat surprised Hya was continuing to entertain him. He searched his thoughts, which were beginning to become muddled. “Of course. I was wondering what other affects such a potion could have on the body.” A bit of a lie but—Hya’s raised eyebrow emboldened him. “Would it be like an aphrodisiac?”

“What would be the point if it wasn’t?” Hya’s voice had gone low and smokey, as it did whenever they drank. A pleasant shiver raced down Amon’s spine. Hya leaned forward towards him, resting his elbows on the table. “There’s already a drink like that anyway. Overrides your consent. Makes bad decisions feel like good ones.” When Amon continued to stare at him blankly. Hya sighed heavily through his nose. “Alcohol. Dumbass. I’m talking about alcohol.”

“I was always under the impression that alcohol made you more honest. Unless there are certain…” Amon tilted his head, searching for a word. “Additives.” Hya hummed, thinking on it for a moment. When their eyes met again, Hya’s dark eyes were burning holes into him and Amon couldn’t deny how his heart leapt bodily into his chest.

“Removing your usual inhibitions is like being under a spell to me.” And Hya reached across the worlds of a table between them, grasping Amon by his tie. He dragged him forward, all strength and no balk, until Amon felt hot breath skating like ice shards across his lips. “Would you say that’s the spell you’re under?” He whispered. Hya answered him with a bite to his lower lip and a commanding sweep of tongue that made Amon’s knees nearly buckle. He righted himself and surged back, fisting rough hands into Hya’s suit and dragging him too, till they were both hanging off the table, having some ravenous conversation in the privacy of their tucked away table. When Hya pushed him back Amon’s head was spinning.

“You never answered.” Amon pointed out. Hya’s breathing was ragged, and Amon was magnetized to the way he scraped his tongue over his lips—as though he were trying to chase some flavor he may have left there.

“You figure it out.” Hya said, all gravel. He stood fully from the table, heading back towards the doors and disappeared into the rowdy crowd like stepping into his own shadow. A waitress hobbled by.

“Put one more on my tab!” He called. He needed a drink after that. She regarded him with a nod. Then, “What happened to your friend?”

“Oh he’s probably off sulking somewhere. I’ll cover his too.”

“Charmed.” She said, then ambled off.

Charmed indeed.

#s: paramour #ren writing #ockiss23 #oc kiss week #ockissweek #i was gonna do more for this but i started a new job so this is what i got #role swap au

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2broschlininahotub · 1 year

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Here is an idea I had an idea based on an anime I had seen. It was pretty short as in 30 minutes compared to the usual one hour. It was called Kakurenbo hide and seek. The idea was basically to light up an entire town as there is no sun. People are forced to play a game of hide and seek. So that the town lights up because of a god. This is the game hide and seek where you have to be the last one standing. They have to hide from giant oni masked creatures. Also all the players were wearing masks. Also the last one standing becomes the next it.

Here is the idea I had. The yanderes are the seekers. All seekers are wearing an Oni mask. There are two types of seekers. The ones that chase you down and ones that pretend to be a survivor only to turn out to be a seeker. The way to distinguish between an imposter and survivor. It was the eyes of the mask glow red. The seeker's goal is to capture the darlings. The seeker's send the captured darling's to a drop of point. This makes the darling be put inside an unbreakable capsule and, they're able to watch the game in the capsule. The survivors goal is to be the last one standing and finding an exit hidden around the area.

The lore of this yandere world would be this. It was game for a yandere to get their darling and a Darling gets a chance to leave. The last survivor darling gets to leave the city (which has the same population and size as New York.) and the ability to willingly give up their freedom for an another captured darling and the survivor is forced to play the game the next time.

This is what happens to the losers. The losers are split into two groups. Some get chosen by the yanderes as their lovers for ever. The chosen have their yanderes get to kidnap them for the rest of their lives. The ones who were not chosen were either killed by the yanderes or sent back into the town.

There actually have been rare situations that have happened in the games. This is considered the rarest situation yet.

I will show you the file of game 345. The important people in this situation are three boys. The darling Akane Shiraki. Yanderes Kyouhei takano and Kurosawa Yamato.

This will help in some context. The three were all childhood best friends. Akane made a promise with then that they'll be best friends forever as a promise.

Akane was the last survivor. Akane wore a cat mask. He was with Kurosawa and thought they were the last two survivors. Kurosawa who worn a dog mask had his mask shift into an Oni mask. Akane ran for his life. Kurosawa was chasing Akane saying that you will be his forever and that he should be a good pet and stop running. Akane then ran head first and was captured by Kyouhei who was wearing his oni mask and captured Akane. Akane did not know this was Kyouhei and thought this just another seeker.

This happened as the yanderes were picking their darlings. Akane was chosen by the Kyouhei and Kurosawa. The two were supposed to duel to the death to get Akane. That was until Akane said Kurosawa's name. Kyouhei realised it was Kurosawa when Akane called him. Kyouhei told Kurosawa his identity. They two then agreed to share Akane. The two then called of the duel. Akane was then given to both of them.

The unique things that happened here is that no one was able to escape. Second was that two yanderes like the same darling. The third two yanderes agreed to share. This event also had the lowest death count of two out 25 survivors. The two who were killed were killed by Akane and Kyouhei respectively. One was a girl who spread rumors about Akane. The second was a boy who had lewd pictures of Akane.

If anyone wants to write this au, you can just tag me.

I think I just made a dead by daylight combined with among us and hunger games au.

I want to tag some people to see what their reactions on this are. @ansy-tea @yandere-romanticaa

#yandere #yandere concept #yandere idea #yandere ideas #yandere x reader #yandere fantasy #yandere hide and seek #yandere oc

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sinvulkt · 1 year

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Angstpril: 17. Running Away - evil au - part 1

@whumpril - 18. Escape Attempt

I ran as if my life depended on it, almost-regrown wings half spread on my back. In a way, I knew my life did depend on it. Kedrick had made sure of that.

My feet trampled the ground, each step reverberating throughout my bones. Without being able to take off, the corridors seemed to spread on and on, their end never in sight.

Whose scum made those kriffing blueprints?

My ears kept fluttering around, desperate to catch any sound that may come my way. I mustn’t get caught.

Four months ago, they clipped my wings for the lone crime of being too absent. What would they do now, upon discovering I was leaving against explicit orders?

The stolen artifact sat heavy over my neck. I hadn’t gotten time to study it properly yet: despite being scooped up in the palace, I had rarely been alone. And the rare times I was.… The artifact had shown itself resistant to my attempts to activate it. Like many things in today’s galaxy, it loathed my presence for its Darkness.

Like many things in today’s galaxy, it would still yield under my will.

The Force blurred in alarm, cutting cleanly through my thoughts. I jumped into a closet. The next second, a garrison of stormtroopers filled the hallway.

I froze.

A minute later, they were gone. I exhaled in relief. My head pulsed at the rhythm of my racing heart, adrenaline making my limbs shake in the aftermath of the tension. Extricating myself from the closet was harder than it should have been, and came at the price of several near-misses with the broom laying there. I managed nevertheless, and soon, I was running again.

The closer I came to the exit, the more often I had to hide. I had long left the inner part of the palace, and moving through the new maze around the hangar was harder and harder. It was as if the stormtroopers knew my itinerary somehow, and searched every corridor I passed. More than once, I was tempted to activate the artifact looped around my neck- to become invisible. But there were too many variables, and not enough guarantee it would actually activate for me to tempt fate. For now, the Darkness covering me would have to be enough.

Rema had promised she would wait for me with a ship at the ready, but each near-miss was making me wonder whether the risk of joining her at the hangar was worth it. Could I really trust her?

She had changed lately. She had become Lighter, in spite of the Darkness smothering us all. It made my feathers bristle everytime I sensed her, a warning of the Dark not too stray too close to its opposite. It also gave me hope.

I ran closer to the hangar despite my doubts, because Rema’s information about my intended death had rang true. While many, Kedrick included, would likely cheer at my demise, I refused to let death take me yet. Furthermore, Rema’s offer had been my only chance to leave the Palace in months.

My Flock was dead; I recognised that now. Aheka was lost. Pat was lost. Rema was lost, and if she wasn’t, she walked a different path none of us could follow. I was lost. There was nothing for me in that place anymore; nothing but pretty chains and tight golden bars.

Breath rendered shortened by anticipation, I climbed into the vent tunnel that would directly bring me to the hangar. Shouts and calls soon reached me. My ears flattened as I realised there was another, darker presence near Rema’s lightening one.

Kedrick.

I checked my mental shields. My own darkness was tightly folded against me, ensuring I stayed hidden even to the best seekers. Pat would have found me nevertheless, but Pat was otherwise occupied, sent to dirty his hands in yet another mission.

Pat had stopped seeking me out after I carved a new scar on his skin in anger.

I waited, trapped in the tunnel vent as both exits were covered in stormtroopers, yet only meters away from the ship that could be my salvation.

Was this a trap?

A loud thud echoed, and Kedrick’s presence fell dim. I dared a glance at the scene beyond the vent grid. Rema stood alone in the hangar, Kedrick’s unconscious body sprawled at her feet. Behind her was a sleek shuttle equipped with hyperspace engines. Its ramp was down, and it seemed ready for take off.

My wings fluttered in excitation at the thought of piloting that vessel. Soon, I’d be free. I crawled out of the vent.

“Rema!” I whispered.

She turned towards me, yellow eyes glinting eerily in the dim hangar lighting.

#angstpril2023 #starwars #fanfiction #day 17 #running away #whumpril2023 #whumprilday18 #escape attempt #star wars fanfiction #the amazing adventures of excentrics jedi #taaoej #sinvulkt fics

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confessionsofdamagedminds · 3 years

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Literally all lore is shaky in this project, but upon impulse realising they could actually fit in well, I added the HBO versions (important to note) of Valery Legasov and Boris Shcherbina.

They’re more or less the same as in canon, other than this story being a modern AU for them because it takes place in modern times. Tachanka and his s/o are being put on trial for charges I will explain another time, and Boris is one of the officials helping the prosecution get their case across. He basically works in the difficult field of handling geopolitical affairs in this AU. And also becomes a dad figure to Anna, Ivan, and Simeon.

Because I’m horribly self-indulgent, Valery and Boris are married. And you’ll be getting sprinkles of Valoris content on here. 🥰 Valery, still affiliated with the Kurchatov Institute for now (unless I come up with something else), meets the main cast through Boris, and becomes close with Salomea through their shared interests in chemistry and physics.

Apologies if it’s a bit confusing right now, haha, I’m still sorting out lore and all that, but I think this way of implementing them works out really nicely 😅

#varlaam says a thing #ideas and ramblings #seeker of science and truth (legasov)#the one noble cause (shcherbina)#you will always matter most (valoris)#chemistry is the strangest science (valery+salomea)#trial talk #oh btw this was all decided and developed before i made the blog #i love these two and they helped me through some rough stuff especially concerning my exit from the queen’s gambit fandom #and so the best way for me to write about characters from stuff i like in general is to implement them in my silly projects and AUs haha #they deserve spots here anyhow 🥺🥺#and they fit in best with this one out of my projects

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druidx · 2 years

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Find the word

I got tagged by @sleepyowlwrites, about this time last year. Thanks for the tag.

I somehow completely forgot I had this fic, so these are all from the Fighting Fantasy World of Titan Modernish-AU (which, dear gods, needs a better title).

Walk

[Elowyn] argues with Thazar about her duties while away, and Strucker argues with Thazar that she doesn't need any duties to be assigned here, that Storri can handle that perfectly fine.

She walks away from that loud and earnest discussion with orders to provide a weekly report on her activities, and a reminder that she is a representative of the city so for the love of all the gods, all the saints and whatever else is holy in this world of theirs, do not cause Trouble. She promises to write the reports.

Run

"Here you go Sarge," [Cobbleskater] says, handing over a stack of fabric. [Elowyn] nods in thanks as an office door slams open. "O'Toreguarde!" Everyone in the room winces at the volume and projection of that voice, and she feels all eyes turn to her. She is still dripping. "Ten minutes, Cap," she calls back, over her shoulder. There is a collective sucking in of breath. "Make it five," the Captain says, and the door slams closed again. She intends to only be three. The general chatter of the room returns as she disrobes, right there in the middle of the bullpen. It is a common enough sight that her colleagues pay no heed to the precinct's most unlucky-lucky officer, as she buttons up Cobbleskater's shirt, and pulls on trousers that don't quite fit her figure. The shoes are a conundrum - his will not fit and hers are filled with water - so she chooses nothing in favour of speed. She has run through the streets of this city in nothing more than a well-tied bed sheet before now; the short walk to her Captain's office is nothing. She spares a quick glance at the pile of wet clothing, but Cobbleskater notices. "Go. I'll deal with it," he says, giving her a push. "Thank you, Constable," she returns. One day she will remind him he is not her personal valet, maid or typist. But, she also suspects, that will be the day he will be zipping up her body bag.

Meander

They meander back through the museum through a corridor lined with portraits and Elo is surprised to learn that His Majesty has a fond appreciation for art. With that in mind, she diverts their exit so that he can view 'The Casting of Challenge Seeker', a rather famous piece that takes up one whole wall. Painted in a renaissance style, it depicts five heroes arrayed in a line at the top of a tower. Around them are littered the corpses of demons, while above them in tumultuous clouds a titanic figure emerges, only his torso visible. This Titan is reaching out to the heavens beyond his stormy clouds, where a sword shines like a star just beyond his grip. For all it looks classical, Elo knows it's a contemporary piece - commissioned by some anonymous donor in celebration of the phoenix-like rise her city endured. Elo smiles when the King, reading the little plaque explaining this, gives an awed little mutter, and she sees his eyes flick to the shortest member of the pictured company. The King turns back to her after a long moment of staring, and he gives her the most solemn incline of the head she has seen from him thus far. She returns it, her smile growing in delight.

Skip

When [Elowyn] gets back, Snips has Hildur standing, clinging to him with her free hand, like he is the only thing keeping her upright. "I'm going to take her to Matilde," Snips says. "When I return we need to talk." "Snips-" "No. No, don't you 'Snips' me," he says, doing a passable impression of her slightly wheedling, slightly threatening tone. "We need to talk. So you can choose to remain here or in my mortuary, but I will return, and I shall be... cross if you aren't here." "All I was going to say," Elo replies, capitulating internally, "is that maybe this is a conversation to share with Farren. He should be in by now. How about I meet you upstairs, and we'll commandeer an interview lounge?" The mortician narrows his eyes at her. "I won't skip out on you. You have my word on it - my bark and my blood as my bond." They both blink. She doesn't know why she said that, except that it feels right to do so. Snips looks taken aback, but then he nods. "Very well," he says. "You will need to tell Constable Breakwood what transpired here eventually, and it would be best to deal with both things at once, rather than having to repeat the conversation." They nod tightly to each other, while Hildur stares at them both. "Come now, my dear," he says to the lab tech. "Let's get that nasty burn seen to." He is far more gentle with Hildur than he has been with Elo, as he leads the lab tech away.

Trot

"Now the formalities have been dealt with," the DA said, "perhaps we should explain to Lady Elowyn why she is here. Madam, Sire, if you'd please?" Elo nodded and went to take a seat. She'd picked up on the emphasis of 'lady'; so she was here in the most official capacity that they can claim to for her? That was interesting. King Storri sat opposite her, as she took a seat to the left of the DA, who began his explanation. "As you may recall, Madam, several years ago, Iceland broke off trade with our fair city-state. We have now come to a point where the Icelandic government feels they can broach the idea of trade with us again - albeit in small amounts. His majesty felt the right way to proceed was to begin the negotiation process himself, and we are inclined to agree. We also felt that as you are already acquainted with him and members of his security force, you would be the ideal candidate to accompany his majesty around the city as guide and protector both." "And, of course," Elo can't help adding on, "it doesn't hurt for people to see one of their heroes trotting around in his company - letting bygones be bygones and accepting him and his folk." There are still tensions in the city - the withdrawal of trade was not a one-sided affair, and some folk still view the Icelandics with suspicion. "She is astute," rumbles His Majesty, clearly pleased. "She's clearly having a better day than usual then," Merri mutters from where she stands. "I have my moments, sir," Elo says. Merri snorts, and Elo can't help but smile at the sound.

Move

"You closed this deal," Magister Thazar says in a flat tone, though there is the merest hint of askance there. [Elo] can't work out if he's questioning that she did it, or that she is implying the deal wasn't already as good as closed. She opts for the safer argument. "I fixed any damage caused," she says. "Even I could tell that it was pretty much a foregone conclusion, but I couldn't risk it falling through for any reason." "And what did you offer [the King]?" "Dinner, and my presence in meetings. Obviously, many of the details I will let you or others work out. I remain as I ever was to you, a pretty centrepiece for your political table." Thazar's chin tucks down, and there is a surprised frown resting over his brown. "You think that's what you are to me?" he asks, the corners of his mouth turning down so much it would be almost comical if he didn't seem so saddened by what she's said. "I think you made that pretty clear today," Elo says and winces internally at how cold that comes out. Thazar moves like he's been struck, wincing back, hurt clouding his face. "What did he offer you?" Strucker asks when it is clear that Thazar is not going to make any further comment.

Tagging: @strosmkai-rum @spacetimewraithwrites @wildswrites @tetrodotoxincs @odysseywritings @ayzrules @morganwriteblr @my-writblr @bexminx @writingingraves @dreamwishing @aalinaaaaaa @wardenoftheabyss @pleaseloathemyveryexistence @jaguarthecat @catharticallysarcastic

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years

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Duplicity

An AU where Kaidan joins Cerberus for the events of ME2.

Chapter Thirteen: The Collector Base

Heat vents, check.

Save the staff of the Normandy? Check.

Get through the seeker swarms? Check.

Now, using the platforms to get to the central control panel? That was a little more challenging.

After assuring herself that Garrus was fine, she scaled the platform. Looking over all the faces in her charge, minus one-- Jacob had escorted the crew back to the ship.

"A rearguard could hold this position and keep the Collectors from overwhelming us," Mary spoke from the platform.

Miranda approached first, "pick a team to go with you, Shepard. Everyone else can bunker down here and cover your back."

Mary nodded in her direction.

Unfortunately, one of her team was picked for her. Kai Leng clambered up beside her as she feigned thought over her next pick. Mary already knew who she was taking opposite of Kai Leng. Shepard faltered, trying to pull her gaze away from Kaidan. She would have liked to take him along with her into the belly of the beast. Into the place she feared, but it couldn't be.

"Miranda, with me," Mary barked, drawing a cocked head from Jack.

"Shepard?" Tali called out.

"I know we're all eager to see me do the impossible," Mary grinned, "again."

Tali muttered something outside of her hearing, Thane who was closest to the quarian looked at her curiously. The drell's attention focused on Shepard; thankfully, he was silent. Jack shook her head, reloading her thermal clip as she pivoted to face the door.

"I hope you'll all do me proud," Mary murmured. So much for a moving final speech.

"Be careful, Shepard," came the voice she least expected.

Mary met his amber eyes, "keep everyone safe."

"Aye, Aye, Ma'am."

Shepard tore herself away, jaunting across the platform. Her nerves fired and her stomach threatened to overturn on her. It was far beyond the usual tug on her stomach that motion sickness caused, but terror. Some of her stomach settled as the drugs filtered into her system, removing her need to puke on the platform. The disabled Collector vessel had at least forewarned them of this possibility. It made facing down the first waves of enemies easy to handle, unlike that awkward last trip through the Collector vessel.

"EDI, what can you tell us? What are they doing?" Mary hailed the AI, hoping she had some insight into what the tubing could lead them to.

"The tubes are feeding into some kind of super-structure. It is emitting both organic and non-organic energy signatures. Given these reading, it must be massive."

As the mechanical voice spoke, the human skeletal structure loomed above the party.

"Shepard. If my calculations are correct, the super-structure... it is"

"A human Reaper," Mary finished for her, pointing the locust at the structure as if the mosquito bite could take down the mountain. She was too focused on the construction to pay much more mind to EDI's explanation of the monstrosity. Shepard simply knew it needed to be destroyed.

Being quite accustomed to destruction, she fired on the glass tubes, the line of her rapid-fire 'cutting' a ridge down the glass injection tubes on the right side. Calling upon them a wave of Collector forces. Metal plating pulled over the left side, the convenient timing between waves allowing her to repeat the feat on the left side. The abomination fell.

"Shepard to ground team! Status report?"

Jack answered, "Jack here, I'm tagging them as they come, but feel free to call for an exit anytime!"

"Head to the Normandy-- Joker prep the engines. I'll need you to pick up the ground team, don't worry about me. I'll grab the shuttle nearest to my location. Keep her warm, I'm about to overload this place and blow it sky high."

"Roger that, Commander," Joker replied.

Mary pulled on the cylinder in the center of the forward platform, growling at the tech she had no hope in understanding. Luckily these things usually blew up easily enough, but her focus was not on the device... but on the man across from her. She coiled, trained on the veins that pieced together the shattered sword.

"Uh, Commander," Joker interrupted her movement, "I've got an incoming signal from the Illusive Man. EDI's patching it through."

Leng's omni-tool sprang to life. Bringing, specifically, TIM's transparent and grid textured knee into the forefront of her vision, "Shepard, you've done the impossible."

Mary grunted, returning her peripheral focus to Leng's position.

"I'm looking at the schematics EDI uploaded. A timed radiation pulse would kill the remaining Collectors, but leave the machinery and technology intact," by the shift of his knee, Tim was trying to draw her attention, "this is our chance, Shepard. They were building a Reaper. That knowledge-- that framework-- could save us."

"They liquified people," Mary spat back, "we have to destroy the base."

"Don't be short-sighted. Our best chance against the Reapers is to turn their own resources against them."

Miranda spoke, quite out of turn to her usual deference, "I'm not so sure. Seeing it firsthand... using anything from this base seems like a betrayal."

Had Mary miscalculated?

"If we ignore this opportunity, that would be a betrayal. They were working directly with the Collectors. Who knows what information is buried there," the hologram began to sound desperate, "look, Shepard, this base is a gift. We can't just destroy it."

"You're ruthless; next thing I know, you'll be making one of these things. I've seen firsthand what you are willing to do to other humans," Mary spoke evenly, "for a group so focused on humans first, you're monsters to your own."

"I've never hidden that I am willing to pay any cost to save human lives. Imagine how many human lives could be saved if we keep this base intact and use its knowledge to thwart the Reapers. Imagine the lives that will be lost if we don't."

"Did you see the reports on the derelict Reaper? Even a dead machine indoctrinated your people," Mary shook her head, "it's not worth it."

"Some would say that what we did to you was too far. I didn't discard you because I knew your value. Don't be so quick to discard this facility. Think of the potential."

"We'll fight and win without it, I won't let fear compromise who I am."

"Miranda--," the figure pivoted, "do not let Shepard destroy the base!"

"Or what," she returned coldly, "you'll replace me next?"

"I gave you an order, Miranda! Len-"

The hologram flickered away as Mary leaped from her crouch blue energy licking at her body as she charged for Kai Leng. Sending them tumbling over the metallic flooring, the assassin was much more agile, rolling away and finding his feet while Shepard still struggled to find purchase.

"I'm glad we have our chance to fight Shepard," he grinned wickedly, "get up. I want a challenge."

"Jealous of little old me?" Mary grinned, pulling herself onto her feet.

He gave no warning he was going to charge.

Mary banked right, but not fast enough, the blade winding between the curved plating that separated her abdomen from the rest of the chest piece. Leng grinned, pushing her back with the added leverage of the blade buried inches into her core. She slumped forward, grasping his hands over the hilt.

"You don't learn."

Her protected hands didn't fear the shrapnel or sharpness of the blade, with experience, she knew just how much pressure it took to shatter the blade. That his hands also shattered beneath the biotic blast, bonus points. Leng reeled back, flipping away in his ostentatious style to put distance between them. Miranda's pistol trained on him.

"Consider this my resignation," Miranda mused dully as she pulled the trigger.

Leng danced between the bullets, the spent thermal clip plopped on the ground before Mary's tug sent her aim off-kilter.

"Miri, the base."

"Right," she looked over the Commander as she pulled a shard of metal from her armour, "you need to get that looked at."

Mary returned to the console, accepting the device offered to her, "let's move. We've got ten minutes before the reactor overloads and blows this whole station apart."

"You could have made me uphold the barrier."

"I thought about it," Mary rammed the reactor back into the platform, "call it respect, sentimentality."

"Stupidity."

Shepard pushed Miranda into cover seconds before the platform veered forward, "we can compromise on wishful thinking."

"You couldn't have expected to win against both of us!" Miranda screamed over the human-reaper hybrid firing against their cover.

Mary chuckled, rolling over from cover to fire at the Reaper's heart as it charged an attack, "I had good odds, I had a seventy-five percent chance."

"In what outcome?"

Mary simply grinned at her companion as they braced against another barrage, "Come on Miri, even if you had come around on your own, would you expect the others to give you the chance?"

"Comforting," an eye-roll accompanied the answer, "everyone was in on this scheme?"

"Just Tali and Jack," Mary propped the heavily modified missile launcher against the barrier.

"You can't be serious."

The corner of her mouth flickered, "this is only the predinner entertainment."

The heavy weapon clicked, and again Mary tucked them back into cover. For all the good it did as the platforms began to tumble, taking them along with it.

~~~

Mary awoke to Joker's voice buzzing into her ear, "Shepard, don't leave me hanging. Do you copy?"

She couldn't move, trapped beneath a slab of metal. Any attempt to move it ended in her strength wavering, with a third heave and the appearance of black-gloved fingers, the slab moved aside. Mary took the offered hand.

"I'm here, Joker," fuck, speaking hurt, "did the ground team make it?"

"All survivors on board. We're just waiting for you."

Mary glanced behind her, and at the massing clouds of Collector swarms, "get here, on the double mister!" She screeched, pulling Miranda along with her. Mary had the ability to charge across yards in a split second, but it would mean leaving Miranda behind. She couldn't do it.

Funny how a moment of loyalty inspired Mary to protect her enemy.

A blue bubble formed around them, saving precious seconds that allowed them to stay out of reach of the Collector forces, the hum of the approaching Normandy the sweetest symphony Mary had ever heard. Her grip still tight on Miranda's hand she flung the former Cerberus operative toward the Normandy with all her might, her own leap for the ship coming soon after. Already spent she struggled to cling to the lip of the ship's open port. Legs dangling precariously in the open, before she was shifted forward by strong arms.

"Commander!"

"Staff Commander."

Kaidan shot her a half scathing look, the other half was quite bashful.

"We need to talk." Mary and Kaidan stated simultaneously.

"I'm not the only one who thought that was creepy, right? Right, Miranda?"

Miranda shook her head, but the party was halted by something much more pressing as the AI began to count down. Right, the exploding Collector base beneath them. Joker hobbled for the pilot's chair, and Miranda, in a daze, headed for the XO's office, unsure of where else to go.

Mary, who was unwilling to move much further, rested against the side of the decontamination chamber, pulling in the first free breaths of her reborn life. It should feel lighter, she noted with malaise.

"Are you hurt?" Kaidan pressed, folding his arms far above her.

Mary shook her head, and he turned away, "Alenko, wait."

"Shepard," Kaidan gruffed.

The ship rocked beneath the ripple of energy from the exploded Collector homeworld.

"EDI, are we transmitting to anyone," Mary pleaded silently with Kaidan to be patient.

"No," EDI answered, with an inflection of hesitation, "I wanted to give you the chance to speak freely."

Mary sighed gently, "ten minutes, then call everyone to the debriefing room. If that would be safe... and if you don't mind."

"Setting a timer for ten minutes."

The ship went silent.

"That was a joke."

Shepard pressed her eyes shut, unable to fight the smile. It wasn't the time to find amusement in the AI's antics, but she could use the release.

"Shepard," he grumbled crossly, "what's going on?"

"First thing," Mary pressed through the pain, her side radiated in sudden and blinding pain, "your parents are safe. I had them moved."

Kaidan's eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't be- Thank you, Shepard, really- I," his shoulders drooped, "that's a lot off my mind."

"Don't thank me yet," Mary chuckled darkly, "it had to be convincing. Maybe... don't ever tell them it was my idea, bad first impression."

"You're worried about a first impression?"

Mary opened one eye, "sorry, adrenaline or something," turning her head couldn't hide the blush, "ignore me."

"Ignored and forgotten, Ma'am."

Shepard closed her eyes with the downward motion of her nod, resting the back of her head against the wall. Gritting her teeth against the next but diminishing wave of pain that radiated from her side. The clattering of armor against the metal siding stirred her attention, prying the eye on her left side open again.

Kaidan took her hand, threading his fingers through her fingers.

"I just need a few minutes," Mary murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

She was so tired.

#duplicity #shenko #fshenko #cerberus au #mass effect fanfiction

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daisyjoons · 3 years

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Bubble Puffs

— in which seven can’t be divided by four, but eight can.

— bts x reader

— word count: 2.6K

— hogwarts!au: ravenclaw!namjoon, ravenclaw!yoongi, hufflepuff!jimin, hufflepuff!hoseok, gryffindor!jungkook, gryffindor!jin, slytherin!taehyung, slytherin!reader, fluff mainly, pining, baking mishaps, failed spells, messed up potions, slytherin heir!reader, rich!reader, kinda snobby!reader, pranks (good n bad), food fight and like one book thrown but joonie yells at them

— thank you very very much to @minniepetals nniepetals for the amazing header (this amazing person made all FOUR headers for this series!!) I hereby dedicate this fix, the softest of the four, to you because as you once said, I am always soft on main for you. Love you!!

— ☘︎︎ —

Jungkook should be paying attention. Jungkook should really be paying attention, after all, Potions was his worst class. But instead, his doe eyes were fixated on you, the heir of Slytherin, the girl who he and his hyungs have had a crush on since the last winter ball. It probably didn't help that potions were your best class, that cute focused face coming out when you were grinding the beetles up.

But he really should've been paying attention. Maybe then he could stop Tae from putting in the beetles whole. Maybe then, Professor Slughorn would still have his eyebrow. And yeah, maybe having to go into the enchanted forest for a week and helping Hagrid with dung beetle hunting wasn't the greatest, but you were laughing. And seeing the pretty giggles falling from your lips, your hair tossing back with your head, and the pretty glimmer in your eyes was worth it for him. Yeah, Jin Hyung, who was across the room would yell at him later but had known he wouldn't be too mad. And Tae Hyung, who was his partner wouldn't be happy about the bad mark on his grade, but he'd get to ask you for another tutoring session.

And when Joonie Hyung heard, he'd have him write papers on papers of why it wasn't good to blast your professor's eyebrow off (even if it was an accident) but he never could stay mad at the maknae long. To be quite honest, none of them would mind, not with the crush they all have on you.

As usual, you had the best score in the class, and the three boys felt a swell of jealousy when Charlie Chang and you gave each other congratulatory hugs but ignored it in favor of the pride of you instead. Because maybe you hugged Charlie, and maybe you spent a lot of time with him since you were both prefects, but you still waited for Tae at the door to walk to the dining hall together, and you still asked him in that soft sweet voice of yours if he wanted help, and only giggled it off when he said yes before you could finish. And hopefully, that small bit of sadness and longing in your eye wasn’t his imagination as he walks away to greet his lovers.

It was small at first. The way you’d always lose your favorite green scrunchie at the same place next to the fireplace in the Slytherin Dungeon. The way you’d always get shy when praised, even though you were the top student. The way your hair would just frame your face, and always smell sweet. The way they noticed you only like the pumpkin pasties with a whipped whirl on top. Or how you liked sour candy over chocolate, but loved anything light, and sweet. How you loved flying but hated playing Quidditch. How you loved the cold, or more specifically, the feeling of being warm from the cold. How you loved when it rained the most and said the smell made you happy.

And none of them realized how much they all grew to love and want you until Jimin talked about his feelings before the winter ball, feeling guilty for betraying his loves. Oh, but there was no betrayal there, for they all had grown to love you, with what small time they each had with you. And they all concluded, they wanted you. They wanted to hold you, kiss you, love you. One problem, they didn’t know if you wanted them.

You had exited a relationship with the Malfoy and Potter boys in the third year, so they knew you were ok with poly relationships. And they were all friends with you, more or less. Taehyung, for obvious reasons, as he was your housemate. You met Namjoon because you were both prefects for your respective houses and when you met him, met Yoongi. You always pretended to be annoyed at Jimin and Hoseok bright aura, nicknaming them bubble puffs. Jungkook and Jin had somehow wormed their way into the posed, calculated heart of yours with their laughs and pranks. And really you were the worst at admitting it, and they really didn’t know, but you’d hate to never have them in your life.

“What happened to Professor Slughorn's Eyebrow?” Kim Namjoon, Head Boy of Ravenclaw walked up to where his lovers were at the edge of the south staircase, waiting for him after classes. His sharp eyes stared down the younger Gryffindor and Slytherin, knowing they always caused the trouble.

“...It was Jungkook’s fault.” Kim Taehyung, ever the wacky Slytherin was quick to pin the crime on the youngest lover, whose doe eyes were once again unfocused, too busy staring at you across the courtyard. “Jungkook?”

“Why is she talking to him so much? I get that they’re both prefects but it’s unnecessary.” Jungkook’s voice was filled with jealousy as he stared at you and Charlie Chang.

“Kook, they are also friends you know.” Taehyung was sure of that fact, yes, but even as he said it, he felt a small part of himself grow angry at Charlie making you laugh.

“Guys, it’s annoying but, what can we do?” Yoongi’s voice was a deep drawl, his tiredness poking through. “Jungkook and Jin Hyung just beat him in Quidditch tomorrow.”

“Oh, we’ll kick his ass alright. Get ready for your team to lose Tae Hyung.”

“You know I’m not the biggest fan of Quidditch but I don’t think you guys will win tomorrow.” Somewhere in the time of the boys arguing about Charlie, you had snuck upon them. A beautiful smirk was painted on your gorgeous face as you leaned on Tae’s shoulder. “Right Tae? The Slytherin team this year will kick your ass.”

“I’d like to see them try...princess.” Jungkooks voice was deep and throaty as he looked at you, the nickname rolling off his tongue in the best way. And you just barely held in the shiver it brought you. But you send a cocky smirk his way anyway. “Gryffindor’s going down, princess and it’ll be one hell of a game. Anywho I’m here to steal Tae away, so bye-bye now!”

They really wish they all didn’t love you so much.

— ☘︎︎ —

Ok so the Slytherin team this year sucked, and Tae was practically helping Gryffindor. The Beater was sidelined for one too many fowls and the score was 42-3. The only way Slytherin would win now was if they caught the seeker, but there was no sign of that happening, however.

Just as it seemed like the game was over the announcer caught sight of Charlie chasing after the snitch, Jungkook hot on his tail. It was so so so close...until Tae “accidentally” hit Charlie with a beater, letting Gryffindor win the game.

One side of the stands cheered with fervor while the other groaned good-naturedly. Gryffindor was practically singing as they ran into the dining hall, while Slytherin only yelled fun taunts at the others. Everyone sat in random seats, not caring much for separating by houses as they ate.

“What’d I say, princess? We won.” God how you wanted to smack that cocky smirk off Jungkooks face.

“C’mon Jungkook, stop teasing her.” Jimin’s voice pitched up before he reached for some pumpkin juice.

You smirked. “Yea, listen to the bubble puff Jungkook, we all know you would have lost if it wasn’t for Tae’s mistake.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if Tae hadn’t bumped into Charlie, he would’ve caught the snitch. He could catch anything you throw at him.”

Jungkook’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as jealousy overcame him and the boys again. “He can? Huh.” Jungkook grabs a choco-frog before turning around and launching it at Charlie. But he misaimed and hit a random girl instead. His face turned red as he turned around quickly, Jin laughing at him. That is until someone launches coconut cream whirl into the back of Jin’s head. It was completely silent for a moment before chaos broke out.

Food went flying everywhere, Cream of Dark Chocolate went into your robes. Pumpkin juice splashed everywhere. Handfuls of mashed potatoes chucked as far as they could go. Some Gryffindor first year tried to use his book to block his head and Namjoon started lecturing him on how books were not meant to be used like that.

It was all fun and games until Headmistress McGonagall came in with a...peeved Peeves behind her. All the students scattered out of the hall then< but you were caught, along with seven others.

“A food fight? Really?” McGonagall’s voice was exasperated, to say the least. She looked both crossed, but like she wanted to laugh. “Just...go wash dishes as punishment.”

— ☘︎︎ —

Giggles floated about the kitchen along with bubbles from the sink. The house-elves had been ordered to leave you eight to it, going to clean the classrooms instead. And maybe this was a punishment, and you would never admit it, but cleaning up with the seven lover boys was fun. They included you so well, and you just barely missed the longing looks that they sent you over your shoulders.

“You know, I wonder if they have any sweets back here.” Jimin's soft voice breaks the comfortable silence the room had lapsed into.

“Well, given that this is a kitchen, I'd assume so, Bubble-puff.”

“Jin Hyung, come help me look,” Jimin whines, ignoring your snarky comment.

“Alright, alright, stop whining.”

Jin wanders over to his lover to help him search, his housemate trailing after him as you turned away. Big mistake. Right as you turned to cast a spell to help you while you cleaned, a bunch of flour was dumped all over you and your emerald green robes. An indigent scream leaves your lips before you turned around, your wand already raised to cast a spell. But Jungkook casts one before you can.

“Bouquetdefleurs!” The spell left his lips and every particle of flour turned into flowers. Flowers entangled in your hair in your robes, everywhere.

“Ugh!” The frustrated scream left your lips once again and you lifted your hand to cast a spell again, but Hoseok accidentally bumps into you, blinded by the flower petals that fell in his eyes. It was like it was in slow motion, watching your wand fall into the toasty fire that kept the eight of you warm. A large flash, presumably from your wand, escapes the fireplace before Namjoon casts a spell to bring your wand out from the fire. But the damage was done, and Hobi felt oh so guilty.

— ☘︎︎ —

You should’ve been paying attention. You really should have been paying attention. But it didn’t matter too much, Potions was your best class and Slughorn loved you. Your somber eyes were instead fixated on the youngest Gryffindor lover, who desperately avoided your eyes. Your and his housemate doing the same. Guilt was gnawing at your stomach from how they were all ignoring you, and the sadness of not having them talk to you and why they weren’t.

“Hoseok, what did you do?” Your voice was shrill and loud, anger and frustration being released.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“My wand!” You snatch the burnt stick from Namjoons hand already rushing out the door to go to Ollivander. The seven boys trailed after you hot on your heels.

“Y/N really I’m so sorry, we’ll go to Ollivander and get it fixed and- and I’ll even pay! I’ll do whatever-”

“Haven’t you done enough?!” You snap at him as you turn around to face him. You ignore the pain you feel when hurt crosses his features, choosing anger instead.

Namjoon steps forward to defend his boyfriend. “Hey, hey he apologized you don’t need to be so mean.”

“My wand has been burnt! I need to cast a spell to get into the dungeon, not to mention for school.”

“Y-Y/n I’m sorry…” Hoseok was near tears seeing your angered face as you turned to face him.

“C’mon you know that's not said, I'm your housemate and I can get you in just fine. We’ll go to Ollivanders’ in the morning and it'll be fine so stop yelling at him. “

“He just wrecked my wand! I am a witch! You know what a witch needs? A wand! So, Kim Taehyung, I will be getting it fixed tonight! And I will stay mad.”

“Well we have to go tomorrow, Filch won't let all of us go out at this hour, only you.”

“Ok. Bye.”

Gosh, you really wished you hadn’t said those words. You knew you were hurting him and it wasn’t even that big of a deal, your wand ended up being fine. You wished you could take back your words and just tell him it was fine and call him bubble puff and- Bubble puff!

“Professor Slughorn, may I be excused? I don’t feel well.” Three pairs of eyes followed after you as you left once your professor nodded.

— ☘︎︎ —

Stares followed after your form as you walked down the rows towards the group of boys, eyes all on the sweets in your hands and the white powdery stains on your robes. Seven pairs of eyes opened wide as you placed down the platter of sweets, your body giving a low huff of exhaustion.

“Hi, I’m Y/N and I’ve been a shitty friend recently. I don’t like being away from all of you, and I especially don’t like fighting with all of you. I’m sorry, for how I acted and the things I said the other night, they were wrong of me. Hoseok, I'm sorry for snapping at you and saying those mean things, I swear I didn't mean it. Please forgive me.”

Hoseok stops for a moment and stares at you, his dark eyes hesitant to make you angry again before he reaches out and grabs a sweet. He peers down at it before glancing at you again, “What even is this?”

“It’s a Bubble Puff! It’s one of those muggle sweets called a cream puff but with powdered sugar on top!”

Jimin grabs one and pops it in his mouth, chewing for a moment before looking up, eyes shining in delight. “It's good! I really like it!”

A smile falls onto your lips as you grab one as well popping it is before saying your next words, “Bubble Puffs for my Bubblepuffs! Perfect!”

Oh if only you knew how the boy's hearts melted at that.

#btswritingcafe #btswritersguild #bts fanfic #bts seokjin #bts suga #bts Namjoon #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts fic #bts jimin #bts hoesok #bts imagine #bts hogwarts au

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mysterystarz · 3 years

Text

steal your heart: the 300 event

welcome to the steal your heart event, an event created to commemorate a lovely milestone of 300!

you and your partner have just pulled off one of the greatest heists of all time, swindling millions of dollars from a famous casino. quick! you need to get away from the authorities! which exit will you choose?

exit one :: a plane to paradise

perhaps the authorities won’t catch you if you catch a plane to somewhere beautiful. the only question is where you’re going ;)

— send me your selfship, your preferred type of weather, if you like trips being spontaneous or planned, and three things you look forward to/prioritize on a trip!

in return, i’ll give you a ticket to a place where you can have a calm vacation away from the authorities, and some headcannons and a tiny scenario to go with it ;)

exit two :: a portal to perfection

there’s no way the authorities can catch you if you two enter an alternate universe! there’s many portals to choose from, but i’ve got you covered!

— send me your selfship, five character traits/qualities of yours, a hobby or two, your aesthetic, and your favorite genre of movies!

in return i’ll provide a portal into an au where the authorities will never find you, along with some headcannons and a tiny scenario!

exit three :: the getaway soundtrack

maybe you’re a thrill seeker and are down for a fast paced car chase? in that case, you’ll need a soundtrack that can fuel you deeper into the thrill and farther away from the police!

— send me your selfship, your selfship’s dynamic, some genres of music you’re into, and 3-5 artists you frequently listen too!

in return, i’ll make you a playlist that’ll be sure to fuel you through your epic battle to keep your money ;) [i warn you i suck at playlists]

you may pick one of the exits to make your getaway!

SLOTS: 12/10

note: slots are subject to change depending on the amount of time it takes to finish the entries!

all event posts will be tagged under #steal your heart <3 (so make sure you follow the tag!)

anon is allowed, however i’d prefer if all participants are following me (it is a followers event after all hehe) and sign off with an emoji!

once again, thank you so much for 300! 💕💕

enjoy your escape!

#steal your heart <3

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 13

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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[Ron]

The moment immediately after Ron admits his feelings, and before he draws up the courage to snog Hermione senseless in public seems to last a lifetime, and it's bursting with questions.

Why does he hesitate? He can't simply tell a girl he's falling in love with her, pause to stare at her lips, panic, and then do nothing.

But that's what Ron does. Maybe she's thinking the same things he is: that they agreed not to kiss, and they weren't expecting to admit such strong feelings, nor were they expecting them to be reciprocated. Although it feels silly not to kiss, doing so would feel like breaking a promise, and they have all night to kiss, so what's the rush? Why risk outing their relationship at the wrong time simply because of the heat of the moment?

Or maybe she's simply wondering why the fuck he isn't kissing her.

However long the moment lasts, it's over when a drunken Seamus staggers up to them and interrupts.

"Ron, Hermione! I've been looking for you," he says, stumbling through the crowd to greet them, oblivious to what he's barging in on. "We're going on the Deathstick. Come on!"

Seamus points to the ride in question — the Deathstick — and next to Ron, Hermione groans in response. In the middle of the venue is a thrill ride that towers up and through the ceiling. Riders pair up into compartments and rotate around a tall pillar, rising through the ceiling until they… well, Ron doesn't actually know. Presumably, they drop, but it all takes place above the roof, out of sight. That's probably part of its appeal.

The pair follows behind Seamus, and Ron can sense the reluctance from Hermione. One glance at her pale face tells him she's not much of a thrill-seeker.

"You good?" he asks.

"I'm not sure about this," she says, eyeing the tower with trepidation.

"You don't fancy an adrenaline rush?"

Hermione laughs. "Oh, I do. It's just that my idea of an adrenaline rush is a glass of wine and a murder mystery."

A glass of wine and a murder mystery sounds fantastic right about now, and Ron can't help but smile at the thought of Hermione curled up on the sofa with a book, her legs on his lap, and a cabernet in her hand.

In the London flat that they share, of course.

"Well, that sounds amazing," says Ron. "We don't have to go." His heart sinks the moment he says it, and he's suddenly aware of how much he wants to go.

"You should go," she says, noticing his reaction. "I'll wait for you."

Ron smiles at her and turns toward the ride. The rest of the wedding party has already partnered up for the two-person compartments — Harry with Ginny, Dean with Seamus, Neville with Luna, and Demelza with Lavender. Ron's all alone.

Ron looks back at Hermione and follows her gaze to a group of girls — possibly another hen party — running into a similar dilemma. Hermione scowls as one of the partner-less girls scans the crowd, looking for someone to ride with. He can hear a faint suggestion from her friend, "Why don't you ask that red-head? He's cute…"

"I'll go with you," Hermione says, smiling back at Ron. "How bad could it be?"

"Are… are you sure?" he asks, unable to stop the smirk that spreads across his face. She's jealous.

"Yes, I'm sure," she says. "I wouldn't want you to ride alone, or worse, with a complete stranger."

"Agreed, I'd prefer to ride with my wife than a girl I just met," says Ron, winking at the girl who's both. They proceed to the ride entrance, and Hermione hesitates before letting Ron pull her along.

"I'm sure the view up top will be worth it," she says, her voice shaking.

Once they reach the front of the line, they pile into the tiny cell and strap themselves into their harnesses. Hermione's fingers intertwine with Ron's as the doors close, and she lets out a small whimper. Ron squeezes her hand.

"It'll be over soon," he assures her, even though he's not sure he wants it to be. It's probably only a five to ten minute ride, and the small compartment has a lot of privacy.

As if on its own accord, his thumb starts caressing the top of her hand.

They start their slow ascent to the top, passing through The Slug Club's ceiling into the night sky. Hermione squeezes Ron's hand more firmly, and Ron can feel her rising pulse through her fingers.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm okay," she says, her voice trembling.

Las Vegas shrinks as they ascend into the night sky, until they're floating above a sea of sparkling lights. The neon signs, vehicle headlights, and illuminated windows pepper the desert floor, now looking like tiny, electric legos that Ron could pick up and hold between two fingers. From up high, the city looks like the perfect set of pieces to rearrange and create something new from scratch. It reminds him of his childhood daydreams when he would build castles and fortresses with blocks and imagine he could fit inside and live there. He'd write himself into stories about knights, talking statues, princes, and princesses, and play out the unlimited possible futures and happy endings.

The weight of Hermione's hand pulls him out of his reverie, but only partially. There's something magical about the moment, hovering above the world, with the commotion of the city reduced to candlelight, that keeps him tied to the innocent optimism of his younger self. As a child, Ron lived his life guided by a heart that had never been broken, and he would have had no issues falling in love with a princess before learning her middle name. Maybe there's wisdom in that forgotten mindset because right now, the idea of building something beautiful from nothing and writing his own happy ending feels more relevant than ever.

"Check out that view," says Ron, breaking the almost silence.

They rotate on the axis, and Hermione's eyes tear up as she admires the electric grid below. Ron continues to rub circles onto her hand, matching the calming pace of his breath. Hopefully, she feels a moment of peace too.

Away from the ambiguous city noise at ground-level, it feels like he's been submerged in silence at first, but as his ears adjust, the subtle sounds of their breath fill the space. It's a sound he hasn't heard in a while, and upon a closer listen, he starts to make sense of it — it's like its own language, nuanced but informative. His calm, rhythmic breath matches the peace of the moment, and as they slow to a stop at the ride's highest point, Hermione's choppier, erratic breathing reminds him that at any second, they'll drop into freefall.

"It's beautiful," she says, squeezing his hand back and admiring the view.

"So beautiful."

Hermione must sense by the closeness of his voice that he's looking at her, not the view, and she turns toward him with a smile on her face. They lock eyes, and the heat in her gaze suggests that if she weren't strapped down by a harness, she'd be snogging him senseless by now.

Then they drop into freefall.

The quiet of their carriage turns to screams of adrenaline as they plummet toward the ground, only to rise and drop again; how many times, Ron doesn't know, but he grips her hand as the only still, unmoving anchor to reality as the world blurs around them.

Eventually, their screams turn to laughter, and Ron's relieved to see Hermione smiling wide, her eyes sparkling. Her face is red, her hair is frizzing out every which way, and Ron has never seen anything so gorgeous.

"That was amazing!" he says once he catches his breath, and his heart rate returns to normal. "How do you feel, Hermione?"

"I don't know yet. Give me a second," she says, but her smile suggests she's just fine. "A little dizzy."

"Well, let's get you to a bench."

As they exit the ride and head over to a bench to rest, the rest of the wedding party pours out of their compartments, unsteady on their feet, and Ron has to stop himself from looping an arm around Hermione. Instead, he reaches for her arm under the guise of supporting her balance.

"I'm so proud of you!" he exclaims when she plops to a seat.

"What? Why?" she groans, leaning back on the bench and closing her eyes. She deepens her breath as if staving off nausea.

"Because you just did something that terrifies you, and it took a fuckload of courage."

Hermione laughs. "You did it too."

"Nah. Stuff like that doesn't scare me," he says as he sits next to her and waves off her questioning glance. "You're amazing, Hermione. Really."

Her eyes crack open for a moment, and she smiles at him. Ron's extra aware of the distance between them and how easy it would be to close it. He could just pull her into his lap for a quick snog. Who's really watching?

He doesn't have the chance to act on the temptation before Harry's panicked voice diverts his attention.

"Ginny! Are you okay, love?"

Harry sprints past their bench faster than a lightning bolt to where a sick Ginny is leaning over a rubbish bin.

Without a second thought, Harry rolls up his sleeves to hold her hair back. He doesn't bat an eye when she's sick yet again, and when she finishes, Harry pulls her into a hug and kisses her forehead, paying no attention to the risk of contaminating his shirt.

"I want that," mutters Hermione, staring wistfully at Harry and Ginny.

"Want what?" asks a confused Ron.

"Aren't they cute?"

Ron scoffs. "No, they're not. Look at them. They've never looked worse," he says, laughing.

"Well, that's exactly what I mean!" says Hermione, turning toward him now.

"Explain yourself."

"You and I think they look… awful right now," she says, gesturing toward Harry and Ginny, who are still embracing. "But even though they're stumbling drunk and covered in sick, they still think the other is the most attractive person in the world. I think it's sweet."

Ron watches his sister and future brother-in-law. Harry mutters something in Ginny's ear that makes her smile. The look in his eyes is one that Ron never wants to see directed at his sister, but Hermione has a point.

"I want to know what that's like," she says.

Ron looks over at Hermione, and he can't help but smirk.

"What?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"You do know what that's like, Hermione."

For good measure, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She catches his hand and leans her cheek against his palm. Her cheeks flush pink, and in a bold moment, she turns her head and presses a kiss to his hand.

He almost gets lost in the moment before he remembers that the reasons he can't kiss her are the same reasons he can't stay here and cradle her face. She seems to have the same realization and lifts her head, letting his hand drop back to his side.

She smiles at him, and there's a glint of something in her eye — mischief, maybe.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, fully knowing his tone comes off as suggestive. He doesn't care.

"That I owe you a drink."

Ron raises his eyebrows. "But didn't we agree to stay sober tonight?"

She raises hers back. "Just one drink?"

Ron smiles. The way he sees it, his best life decisions have been made while drunk with Hermione Granger.

"Just one drink," he confirms.

Hermione grins, and by the look she gives him, he knows that she doesn't mean just one. It's okay, though, because he doesn't either.

When they reach the bar, Ron's disappointed to discover that they aren't the only ones in the wedding party with the idea. It appears that the adrenaline rush of the Deathstick has made everyone thirstier, so their friends scatter in pairs around the taproom. With everyone's attention a quick shout away, Ron's hopes of stealing a kiss from his wife diminish.

"Hello again, Mr. Weasley. Miss Granger. Can I get you a drink?" asks Rosmerta, approaching them with a smile.

"Sure," says Ron. "Madam Rosmerta, what is the most popular cocktail at this bar?"

"Madam! I like that!" smiles Rosmerta. "Our most popular drink would probably be Felix."

"Never heard of it!" says Ron.

Rosmerta leans across the bar as if preparing to tell him a big secret. Hermione and Ron lean in to listen.

"Years ago, a customer came in and handed over directions to concoct a very specific drink. He called it 'liquid luck'," she says, winking. "At first, we laughed at him; thought he was taking it way too seriously. He was a very superstitious type. The joke was on us, though. He hit up the casino and left five million dollars richer. We ended up naming the drink after him."

"Bloody hell. We'll take two of those!" he says, sending a questioning glance toward Hermione, who nods.

"Don't get too excited," says Rosmerta as she fixes up two shimmery golden cocktails. "No one's ever been able to mimic that level of luck, though many have tried." She slides the drinks across the bar to Ron and Hermione and shrugs. "It tastes good, though."

Ron reaches into his pockets to fish out some cash for Rosmerta. She deserves a big tip for putting up with a rowdy crowd like this one, and who knows what rude customers she's had to deal with today.

"Thanks, Rosmerta! Can you hold the straws on those, please?" he asks, just as Rosmerta is reaching under the bar to grab two plastic straws to plop into their drinks.

"You sure?" she asks, hesitating before the open cabinet.

"Yeah," says Ron. "Save the sea turtles, right?"

"As you wish!" says Rosmerta.

Ron turns back toward Hermione and opens his mouth to speak, but pauses when he catches her eye. There's a fiery passion in her gaze, and it's something that Ron has never before seen in a woman's eyes, at least not directed at him.

Her look is like a spotlight, yet he doesn't mind the attention. It feels like he's on a stage, and no matter what he says or does, it will earn him a standing ovation. He can't help but wonder if Hermione's ever looked at a man like that before, but before his insecurities can take root, she springs forward and crashes her lips against his.

It takes some time for Ron to process what's happening before he responds. He's not entirely sure how much, as time might as well stop turning. When he gets his bearings, his fingers snake into her hair, and he holds her head in place, although he doesn't need to as she makes no effort to break away from him. She kisses him with a passion that Ron would expect behind closed doors only; the way her tongue slides between his lips is slow and sensual, yet eager and full of lust, and the sound she makes when he gently tugs at her hair sends Ron's mind spiraling into dangerous fantasy territory.

With great reluctance, they pull away, panting to catch their breath. Ron doesn't even think to look around and check if anyone saw them. As far as he's concerned, they're the only two people in The Slug Club.

"I know we were trying to keep this quiet, but—" she says, but Ron cuts her off by pulling her lips back to his.

The second time is even hungrier. Ron can feel Hermione's teeth bite his bottom lip, teasing him, as her hands slip around his shoulders. She lets out a soft moan as her fingers trace the muscles of his arms, and any negative thoughts he's ever had about his body — too lanky, too scrawny, not athletic enough — float to the background and become irrelevant. The increasing pressure in his shorts suggests he's close to getting carried away, and although he wouldn't mind, he doesn't want Hermione to get a slap on the wrist for public indecency, so he forces himself to pause.

When they surface for the second time, Ron notices that she's ditched her bar stool and is standing before him, leaning her weight against his leg, dangerously close to his growing erection. His arms have managed to wrap around her hips, and his hands are shamelessly resting on her bum, but again, he pays no mind to the crowd. There's only one person that matters.

"I haven't even had a sip of Felix yet, and I already feel like the luckiest man in here," he says. "What inspired this?"

"It was everything. I swear every time you look at me, and every little thing you say, it gets more difficult to keep my hands off of you."

Ron pulls her against him, tilts his head up, and presses a light, chaste kiss to her lips. He loves that she's short enough to reach his lips when he's sitting down, and her face is just as beautiful from this new angle. He wants to see it from every vantage point possible.

"What was the tipping point?" he asks, his tone playful.

"The straws," she says. "And the 'save the sea turtles' bit."

Ron beams. Straws. Of course.

"What did sea turtles do to make you love them so much?" he laughs, tightening his embrace. "And can they give me some tips?"

Hermione smiles down at him and toys with the hair on the back of his neck. "You don't need any tips," she says, inching her lips closer. "You'll be just fine."

She closes the space between them, and once again, he immerses himself in kissing her. As if they're back on the Deathstick, the ambient noise of the surrounding crowd fades away, and he finds no difficulty tuning into the sound of her breath and the taste of her lips.

Nothing can distract him from this moment. The wolf-whistles around them fade away, and Ron has all but forgotten about the two sparkling gold, untapped glasses of Liquid Luck on the bartop. He could kiss her forever, taking mental notes on every response, every reaction, eager to discover this growing language between them, and the endless stories it can tell.

#be11a_vegas #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hpromione #muggle AU

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ultracreativelywritten · 4 years

Note

Could there please be a continuation on sparkling Starscream? I'm hooked on this au and I'm wondering what did the cons do for his new room.

Starscream growled as Soundwave carried him. The Spymaster had found him crawling in the vents, and dragged him to the wash racks. Once the seeker was clean, Soundwave had whisked him away to some unknown hallway.

“Where was he?” Knockout ran over to the two and started to look over the seekerling.

“Starscream: was in the vents again.” Starscream swore that Knockout was going to have a spark attack when he heard that he was in the vents again.

“Aw, little buddy,” Breakdown took Starscream from Soundwave, “were you mad that we weren’t spending enough time with you?” Starscream pouted and turned his helm away and stared at the floor.

“Perhaps this room will do us all some good,” Megatron purred, causing Starscream’s spark to fill with dread. When Megatron said something was going to be good, it usually meant it was going to be bad for Starscream. Unconsciously the seeker curled closer to Breakdown as the warlord opened the door. Inside there was plush carpeting and pillows filled every corner, except to the far left where a large dresser stood.

“Aww little buddy look, it’s your own playroom!” Breakdown placed Starscream on the ground and the seeker tried to book it for the exit, but was stopped by Megatron’s large frame. Growling the seeker turned and ran over to one of the larger piles of pillows, thinking that they were blocking one of the many vents. “Aww he likes it!”

“He does,” Starscream shivered as Megatron pulled him out of the pillow pile, “Soundwave, could you grab those special mittens?” Soundwave opened the closet and pulled out two rubber mittens and handed them to the warlord. Starscream snarled Megatron fastened the devices around his wrists.

“Make sure they’re not too tight!” Knockout fussed, and Starscream gave him a pitiful look.

“They’re fine Knockout. We don’t want Starscream hurting his servos trying to find one of us~”

“Of course Big M.” Knockout said as Megatron set Starscream back down on the pile of pillows.

“Now Starscream,” the seeker growled as Megatron addressed him, “I know you don’t like this situation, but sometimes we’re swamped with work or in dangerous situations that we feel are too much for you. This little room is so you have a place to play and be safe.” Starscream bit his glossa as Megatron patranized him. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” With that the warlord left.”

“Starscream: enjoy new room.”

“We’ll be back as soon as you know it Star.”

“Don’t have too much fun without us!” Starscream watched as the mechs filed out and locked the door behind them. Plotting, the seeker was going to make sure that they would rue the day they turned him into a sparkling.

#transformers #transformers prime #megatron #starscream #knockout #breakdown #soundwave #transformer yandere #yandere transformers #yandere parent

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flooffybits · 4 years

Text

From Outside

Idol: Hwang Yeji (Itzy)

Request: Yes

Anon: Can I request a yeji hogwarts au! The fem reader’s a slytherin while yeji’s a gryffindor and their relationship is some what questionable and odd to outsiders who know nothing about the couple. (it’s okey if you can’t do this request if your really busy)

“Are you sure you want to keep this going? Everyone is talking about you.” Yeji sighed for the umpteenth time that day with her friends questioning her about her, now, public relationship. It wasn’t that they were annoying, she just didn’t like the fact that everyone was asking her about it due to the two of you coming from different houses.

What made it worse was that she was from Gryffindor and you were from Slytherin.

Throughout the year the two of you have been subtly seeing each other, Yeji has had to deal with her fellow Gryffindors about how you were a snobby pureblood that stepped over everyone else who wasn’t in your house and the girl just wanted to yell at them to shut up because those rumors weren’t true.

You weren’t mean. As a matter of fact, you really enjoyed keeping yourself away from most people and dealt with your studies while balancing quidditch practices. To your friends, you were pretty nice and you weren’t like the typical Slytherin stereotype that was going on.

You were cunning and ambitious, but if you got rid of the tie and robes, Yeji admits that she would have mistaken you for a different house if she met you before you got sorted into your respective houses. But then she thinks, Slytherins aren’t exactly bad people and most just brand you as one due to past incidents she would rather not think about.

Yeji knew who you were while everyone just based you on rumors. Even if it did annoy her, they were completely clueless.

“That’s all they ever do. It’s not like anyone is bothering me.” She replies and Lia hummed lightly, shrugging her shoulders while shutting her book. “Well, as long as you’re okay. I’ve been hearing some people saying Y/n cast a spell on you or something.” Yeji looked at her friend, who raised her hands and shook her head before dusting off her clothes.

“I’ve met Y/n, and I trust them with you. Just be careful with everyone else.” With that, the girl collected her things and exited the area, smiling at you when you passed and you nodded to her in return.

“Mind if I take a seat or are you too deep in your thoughts?” Her brown eyes turn to the source of the voice and a smile blooms across her face when she sees you smiling back at her. “What took you so long?” She questions, pulling your arm so that you could sit as close as possible.

The two of you were often found at Hogsmeade, it being the place where you both found the most privacy. None of your peers would be bothering you there and Yeji was able to be comfortable just being your girlfriend and no one would care.

“Sorry, I was just a little…”

“Bothered?” You finish for her. “I saw Lia on my way in.” You tell her while resting your chin against your hand, elbow resting on the table and Yeji sighs. “I wouldn’t say bothered. Maybe disappointed.” She had muttered and you smiled softly as you took her hand in yours, lacing your fingers together and her smile quickly comes back.

It wasn’t the first time that you’ve had this conversation. Other students at Hogwarts have pestered you both, nonstop, ever since you let your relationship be known. Your fellow Slytherins would sneer at you for associating yourself with the enemy, while some of your friends were a bit iffy with the whole thing. Meanwhile, Yeji’s friends were more confused with her choice of partner.

Yet, even with the two of you coming from rivaling houses, there was no denying that you were both the most popular couple there with Yeji being Gryffindor’s prefect and you as Slytherin’s seeker. You both looked like a regular couple, sweet and obviously in love. But it was very clear that you liked keeping it private.

Whenever someone would question either of you about it, you would simply brush it off and ask them politely not to butt in on your relationship because there was really no use in explaining anything to them.

“Let them be. You know that they won’t care even if we say anything.” You say while pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “It’s our life, why should they care?” And that made her smile widen just a bit more. “I guess that is true.” She chuckled before leaning her head against your shoulder. “I just wished they didn’t act like you were some kind of villain.”

You snorted at her words but grinned nonetheless. “There will always be a bad guy in someone’s story, love. They don’t know about us, so it doesn’t really matter.” She hums at that before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“How do you stay so indifferent with these things?” She asks with a quiet laugh and you send her a wink. “Well, I wouldn’t be Y/n L/n if I wasn’t.” You joked and she laughs once more while slapping your arm in a playful manner. “I guess.”

“But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You share a smile before she’s leaning in to brush her lips against yours, whispering a quiet “I love you” until you use your free hand to cup her cheek and press your lips fully against hers.

#girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #itzy #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #itzy yeji #yeji itzy #hwang yeji #yeji #yeji scenarios #yeji imagines

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eventidespirits · 3 years

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"Eventide is safe haven for anyone and everyone -- whether they be mundane or supernatural, celestial or infernal, living or dead (or undead), faerie or eldritch horror (not that there's much difference, there), gods or mortals -- provided they can follow the rules.

While our primary "location" is in Santa Marta, California we have entrances and exits all over the world and all over the multiverse... If you need a doorway to any plane of existence, we have it, for the right price.

So, why don't you come on in, sit a spell, grab a coffee, have a pastry and let go of your troubles..." - Patrick Ó Loinsigh, proprietor and owner.

EventideSpirits is a multi-muse, multiverse original lore IC, script style and thread style roleplay blog run by @xrozario-sanguinemx • Open/Public (just @ me, specify a muse and start up a conversation!) || Muns 18+ Only || Primary Universe is based around my multiple WIP novel series.

RULES:

DO NOT FOLLOW IF UNDER THE AGE OF 18

This blog will contain mature/sexual themes and graphic violence. As a 29 year old, I do not feel comfortable roleplaying with minors for this reason.

This blog is fiction but will sometimes reference IRL politics and events IC.

Blacklist tag "#IRL Politics" if this is going to be an issue -- or block me.

No god-modding/killing/seriously physically harming OCs without explicit permission.

I have no problem with violence but if you're going to seriously harm my characters or kill them, PLEASE talk to me in private so we can hash out how that will work in-thread.

No Lore Policing.

While this blog is primarily original lore, some threads/AUs take place in WoD/VtM 20th. Even so, I play fast and loose with the in-setting lore. If you have a problem with that, block me.

No "shipping wars".

This blog is multi-ship so any characters can be with any characters and most of my OCs are polyamorous ANYWAY. Additionally, I do not have the time nor the energy for "anti vs proship" bullshit. None of my characters are minors and I will not ship them with minors because it makes me uncomfortable. End of.

WARNING: This blog WILL have graphic and disturbing content.

this includes but is not limited to: mentions of incest/CSA, mentions of rape, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of child loss (OG Timeline Morgan) body horror, eldritch/cosmic horror, torture, murder and mind control. I will try to tag triggering material when it comes up.

The Regulars:

Morgan Kendrick:

She/Her || 25 || DOB: October 25th 1995 || RIP about 2 weeks ago || Vampire (Siren) || Precognitive || Fae Ancestry || Medium || Baby Witch || various AU versions

Laurent DeFantome:

He/Him || "30" || DOB: January 6th 1970 || RIP 2000 || Vampire (Nightingale) || Occultist || Bookstore Owner || Masters in Psychology || Tattoo Twin || Seeker of Secrets || Original Universe

Louis DeFantome:

He/Him || "26" || DOB: Jan 6th 1970 || RIP 1996 || Vampire (Siren) || Party Boy & Club Hopper || Sculptor || Piercings Twin || College Dropout || Secretly Protecting his Brother || Original Universe

Laci Lydia Brighton-Lee:

She/Her || DOB: January 18th 1977 || RIP October 31st 1998 || Vampire (Revenant) || Chaos Instigator || Psychic || Oracle || Age-Slider || Clairvoyant || Apocalypse Prevention Expert || Original Universe

Patrick Ó Loinsigh:

He/Him || DOB: Midwinter || Cursed Sidhe || Unaligned || Bartender || Owner of Eventide || Exiled Royal || Opener of Doorways and Giver of Advice || Original Universe

Adam Freemont:

He/Him || "29" || DOB: August 11th 1896 || RIP 1925 || Vampire (Siren)/Bloodbound Spirit || Morgan's Maker/Sire || Social Psychologist || Gaslighting Egotist || Daddy Issues || Photographer || Rich, Spoiled Playboy || Vaguely Goth Pretty Boy || Original Universe

Florian Lazarescu:

He/Him || "23" || DOB: March 20th ???? || Zantosa Revenant || Airheaded Party Boy || Gay Transgender Goth Disaster || Hedonist || No Childhood Memories || Daddy's Boy || VtM OC

Links for Mobile Users:

-About the Mun

-Vampire Information Masterpost

-Santa Marta Information Masterpost

-Full Character List <WIP>

#pinned post #OOC #from the mun

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patandpran · 4 years

Text

Magic in the Moonlight - A Saratine/Harry Potter AU

Summary: Tine accidentally ends up with Sarawat, the anti-social but popular Griffyndor Seeker, as his Potions Partner. They venture into the Forbidden Forest together to retrieve some ingredients for a potion and find something more than magic under the moonlight.

Word count: 4300 (I know. I’m sorry)

It was the first day of official classes and Tine was late for Potions, as per usual, and he hoped that Fong had saved him a spot so that they could be partners for the term. He sped into the classroom at full tilt and the rest of the class looked back at him like he was completely insane.

“Tine Aekaranwong. How lovely of you to show your face.” The Professor addressed him dryly. “Please find a seat so that I can continue on with the lesson.”

Tine searched for Fong and saw that Ohm was sitting next to him. Fong gave him an apologetic look and Tine made a mental note to never trust Fong with something as important as seat saving. He scanned the rest of the classroom and saw only one open chair available next to the very last person he wanted to sit with: Sarawat.

They had been going to school together for six years and Tine was still terrified of his classmate. Sarawat was the Seeker for the Gryffindor team, had a fan club of students that worshipped the ground he walked on and Tine had never once seen a smile on Sarawat’s face. They had never actually had a conversation but Tine knew that it was going to be challenge to sit next to Sarawat without feeling on edge every minute he was in Potions class. Tine internally groaned and made his way to the table.

“Uh, hi.” Tine greeted as he sat down next to Sarawat.

Sarawat looked at Tine from the corner of his eye and then shifted his attention back to the Professor. Tine figured that was the best possible reaction he was going to get out his broody classmate so he left it at that.

“Your first task will be to collect natural ingredients from around the campus to concoct a Potion of your own design.” The Professor explained and Tine bit his lip with worry. As interesting as the assignment sounded, he was not especially good at Potions and ingredient knowledge so he hoped that Sarawat had some semblance of experience in the area.

“You have this class to decide what kind of Potion you would like to make so that you can start collecting your ingredients as soon as possible. This will be a practice of trial and error so I suggest that you use your time well.” The Professor droned on.“It will also likely require some work outside of class time so make sure that you arrange that with your partner before you leave class today. All right, get to it.”

Tine made a point of glaring back at Ohm and Fong who had already launched into an animated brainstorming session. They ignored his gaze but he grumbled nonetheless before turning back to face Sarawat.

“So….” Tine mused, pulling at a loose thread on his grey sweater to distract himself from how awkward the situation already was. “What should our Potion do? I guess that will determine the ingredients, right?”

“I’ll handle it.” Sarawat explained shortly. “I’ve seen how strong your Potions skills are and I don’t exactly want to cause any bodily harm to us or any classmates so just let me do the work.”

“Oh.” Tine muttered, surprised that Sarawat had ever paid him even more than a shred of attention, even though what he technically said was an insult. Tine continued, “But I can help! I’m pretty good at research so…. why don’t we at least decide what our Potion will do together? Otherwise the rest of this class is going to go by pretty slowly.”

“That’s fine.” Sarawat shared and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. “I prefer silence anyway.”

Tine watched as Sarawat began to scrawl some ideas down onto the parchment and prepare a rudimentary ingredient list based on some of the ideas that he had written down so far. Tine was shocked to see how easily this came to the Star Seeker. Tine had never been strong at academics himself but the fact that Sarawat was both good at sports and was strong in his classes just didn’t seem fair.

“I want to help. I don’t want you to do all the work and I just take credit. That doesn’t sit right with me.” Tine murmured earnestly and Sarawat paused his writing to lift his eyes to meet Tine’s.

“Okay.” Sarawat seemed to be surprised that Tine was protesting the arrangement. “What kind of Potion do you think we should make then?”

Tine mulled it over for a moment and recalled that Sarawat had quite the knack for music. This was a common interest that was shared by them, so Tine shared, “Why don’t we do something that can manipulate or alter the way that people experience music?”

Sarawat’s eyes widened in a way that made Tine wonder if he was surprised by the strength of his idea. Sarawat bit his lip momentarily before muttering, “Synesthesia… we could find ingredients that would stimulate other senses so that people could, in theory, ‘see’, ‘taste’, or ‘smell’ music.”

“Whoa. That sounds perfect.” Tine responded with a small smile as Sarawat began to flip through his Potions textbook, leafing through to likely start to think of some important ingredients.

Tine watched as Sarawat began to take notes before Sarawat paused and looked up at Tine with a glared, “Are you just going to sit there or are you going to make yourself useful? Look for any ingredients that alter state of mind or affect the senses.

“On it.” Tine answered and took out his own textbook.

It looked they were going to make a better team than originally anticipated and Tine couldn’t help but feel relieved by that.

++++++

“Can you pass me a pumpkin tart?” Fong asked Tine and Tine grabbed one absentmindedly and chucked it in his friend’s direction.

Tine and his friends were finishing up dinner in the Grand Hall when Tine realized how late it was getting. He was supposed to be meeting Sarawat at the edge of the Forbidden Forest in half an hour. They had spent the last few days compiling their list of ingredients and one of the flowers that they needed only bloomed in the Moonlight of a certain part of the Forbidden Forest. Sarawat had received special permission from the Groundskeeper to access the Forest afterhours as long as they kept their visit brief.

“Earth to Tine!” Ohm reached over and poked Tine in the head. “Fong just asked what you and Sarawat are doing for your potion assignment?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell.” Tine explained and Fong and Ohm exchanged a suspicious look.

“You and Sarawat make promises now?” Fong asked, an eyebrow raised in accusation.

Tine pushed himself up from a seated position before wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck as it was likely to be a frigid evening. He had heard his friends and others whispering about he and Sarawat over the past few classes but he had chosen to ignore them. It was true that Sarawat connected with few others in classes aside from Man and Boss but he and Sarawat weren’t friends, they were just Potions partners.

“If you’re jealous, why don’t you just say that?” Tine countered sassily.

“We’re not jealous.” Ohm stated plainly. “Everyone just finds it a bit odd that you and Sarawat are chummy all of a sudden. Sarawat isn’t known to tolerate people very well. His Potions partner last year was Earn and even she barely got a word out of him!”

“Well, I guess I’m just a bit more charming than Earn.” Tine argued before pulling on his cloak.

“You’re really not.” Fong shared with a smirk and Ohm laughed in agreement. Fong continued, “Well, anyway, if he feeds you to the Centaurs tonight, remember that we tried to warn you.”

“Wat isn’t evil.” Tine shared before pulling out his wand. “He’s just always in a state of brooding.”

“Wat?” Ohm repeated incredulously, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Now you have a nickname for him?”

“I’m going to walk away now.” Tine turned quickly and made a dramatic exit, likely earning himself even more laughter from Ohm and Fong but he didn’t care.

It took him a few minutes to get down to the edge of the forest and it made him wish that he knew how to apparate without leaving a limb behind. He hadn’t quite mastered the skill yet and it wasn’t worth the risk, despite it maybe saving him a few minutes.

Sarawat was humming to himself and leaning against a tree as Tine approached him from behind. Tine listened to the melody for a moment, wishing he knew a spell to quiet his footsteps as Sarawat actually had a lovely voice. Sarawat stopped as soon as he heard Tine and turned around to face Tine with an indifferent look in his eyes.

“Sorry it took me so long. My friends were giving me a hard time.” Tine blurted out.

“About what?” Sarawat wondered and started off into the forest, obviously wanting Tine to follow in his wake.

“Uh, don’t worry about it.” Tine watched as Sarawat disappeared into the shadows of the edge of the forest.

There was a part of Tine that wished he was a Gryffindor like Sarawat, where he could boldly walk into a potentially dangerous situation without so much as a bat of an eye but his Hufflepuff-ness definitely got in the way.

“Sarawat?” Tine called out as he walked into the trees, searching for his classmate. He took out his wand and whispered, “Lumos.”

A small light flickered at the end of his wand and he spotted Sarawat a few paces ahead of him with an amused look on his face. “Scared of the dark, are we?”

“I’m just being safe.” Tine muttered as he caught up to Sarawat so they were walking side by side. “But actually, yah, a bit.”

“I’ve always thought it showed much more courage to share what you are afraid of rather than pretending you’re not scared of anything.” Sarawat explained as they ventured deeper into the forest.

After that, they walked in silence for a while and Tine wondered if Sarawat knew where they were going. He hoped to goodness that he knew that way back to the castle as Tine had no sense of where they were or where they had been even 10 seconds before. Tine was surprised to find the quiet so comfortable as he was much more used to listening to Ohm and Fong’s constant bickering and babbling.

“So how do we harvest the MoonLeaf?” Tine questioned, swinging his arms by his side to amuse himself.

“Looks like someone didn’t do the reading I told him to.” Sarawat sounded like he was attempting to scold Tine but Tine could see a small smile on his classmate’s lips.

“Sorry.” Tine chewed his lip in guilt. “I got caught up in a game of Wizard’s chess with Ohm before dinner.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Sarawat responded as they slowed their pace. “We’re here already. I guess you will just have to learn as we go.”

They had stopped at the edge of a meadow that was blanketed in moonlight. Tine concealed his wand as the light was bright enough that he could see everything and did not feel so afraid anymore. Although, that could have also been because of Sarawat’s presence.

The meadow was full of a plant that Tine had never seen before, although he had never paid much attention during Herbology classes to begin with. The plant was not especially tall but the top had silvery leaves that stretched toward the sky as if it were reaching for the moon itself.

“It’s beautiful.” Tine whispered, completely in awe.

“It’s definitely more beautiful at night.” Sarawat explained as he made his way toward a plant. “During the day, the leaves are closed and it looks like an average weed that no wizard would bother even looking at but as soon as the moon comes out, it shows its true form.”

“I guess it’s almost like a nocturnal plant.” Tine remarked as he followed behind Sarawat.

“Kind of.” Sarawat said as he knelt down near a cluster of the plants. “Although that would imply that the plant is awake when, in reality, it is just an involuntary response to the moonlight.”

“Are you sure you’re not supposed to be a Ravenclaw?” Tine rolled his eyes at Sarawat as Sarawat took out his own wand.

Sarawat ignored Tine’s comment and beckoned with his wand for Tine to come closer. Tine got down on Sarawat’s level as Sarawat pulled a leaf out gently to show him. “You can tell that it is mature because of the spots along the edges. We need quite a few but you have to be careful about removing them or the plant will shut on your hand and I can say from experience that it hurts.”

Tine watched in fascination as Sarawat slowly twisted the leaf away from the plant and removed it. Sarawat nodded to encourage Tine to try and Tine pulled one out after a few tries before placing it in the collection satchel that Sarawat had brought with them. Sarawat smiled encouragingly at Tine and Tine felt his heart race at the reaction.

They harvested in silence for a while before Tine asked, “So… you’ve done this before?”

“I sometimes help my Father collect ingredients for his medicinal Potions.” Sarawat explained. “He is a colleague of the Groundskeeper which is why we got permission to come out here tonight.”

“Oh.” Tine murmured. “I see. I figured that the Groundskeeper was a fan of the Gryffindor Quidditch team or something which is why you got special treatment.”

Sarawat prickled at this and Tine immediately felt guilty for saying it. He did not know how Sarawat felt about his undeniable popularity but, based on Sarawat’s reaction, he was not very fond of how people treated him because of it.

“Sorry.” Tine moved to a plant further away to give Sarawat some space. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.” Sarawat spat and Tine saw a scowl on his partner’s face. “We don’t have to talk. Let’s just this over with.”

It was Tine’s turn to prickle. It seemed like Sarawat had actually been slightly warming up to him but his iciness had returned so quickly. Tine felt a huge wave of regret flow through him but he was not sure what to say to make up for his misstep. If only he a had a Timeturner to go back just a few seconds to fix his mistake.

“I really am sorry.” Tine shared and paused his work for a moment. “I am sure people think they know you all the time and while it is completely your right to keep to yourself, I am sorry for making assumptions about you when I don’t really know anything about you.”

“I don’t just close myself off for no good reason!” Sarawat snapped and stopped harvesting as well, dropping the collection satchel to the ground. “I don’t need to be everybody’s friend. People whisper about me no matter what I do. They make things up about me and paint me to be this mysterious and unapproachable person but… Merlin, when you sat down next to me, I was so relieved.”

“You were?” Tine was shocked by what Sarawat was saying.

“You don’t look at me like you’re scared of me or want something from me.” Sarawat hung his head so the moonlight danced off the strands of his dark hair that fell across his eyes. “You don’t change who you are in front of me and you just treat me as if I was anyone else.”

“Is that a good thing?” Tine was not quite sure where this was going but it seemed like Sarawat had something to say so Tine wanted him to feel safe to do so.

Sarawat seemed to be pondering this for a moment before he looked back at Tine again and answered, “I think so… It makes me feel like I can just be myself in front of you without worrying about what you’ll think of me.”

“Well, I have to admit, I was a bit intimidated by you at first but then I got to know you a bit and, well, you’re certainly not how people perceive you to be.” Tine ran his hands over the dewy ground of the meadow as expressed his thoughts to Sarawat.

Sarawat cocked his head to the side like a curios puppy, “How so?”

“You give off this troubled hero vibe where it either makes people swoon or be scared of you. Like they can’t possibly measure up.” Tine continued, hoping he wasn’t being too critical of Sarawat but his classmate seemed to be listening so he kept on sharing, “But I think you’re actually just so worried about what people think that it makes it hard for you to connect or open up… When, really, you have nothing to worry about because you’re basically the smartest, most talented, most handsome guy at Hogwarts.”

“Most handsome?” Sarawat repeated, seemingly completely surprised by the adjective.

Tine threw a small tuft of grass at Sarawat, hoping to distract from the blush that was currently on his cheeks. “You’re already popular enough, don’t let that go to your head now too!”

“I’m jealous of you, you know.” Sarawat began to gently collect leaves again, his eyes focusing back on the work. Tine stilled at this, “How could you possibly be jealous of a nobody like me?”

“You have real friends, Tine. People like you, for you.” Sarawat’s tone of voice seemed to waver slightly, as if he was becoming nervous. “Aside from Man and Boss, people just follow me around for no good reason. But people actually want to be your friend. They see how fun, kind, and open you are and want to be around you because you’re a great person. Plus, you’ve got a great smile.”

“You’re just trying to compliment me back.” Tine chuckled awkwardly. “You don’t have to do that.”

Sarawat stopped again and looked to Tine. “I know I don’t have to… but I want to.”

Tine suddenly felt as if the trees around him were closing in on him. The dizziness took over and he grasped at something to hold onto but, in doing so, pulled at one of the Moon Leaf plants a little too violently, causing it to snap closed on his hand.

Sarawat moved quickly, pulled out his wand and cast, “Relashio!”

The plant quickly released it’s grip on Tine but the damage was done. Tine held his wrist and winced at the pain as small droplets of blood began to appear where the plant had made contact. Sarawat knelt down besides Tine and inspected the wound. It was not very big but it was painful.

“Episkey.” Sarawat whispered and Tine felt a surging of hot and cold take over his hand before the wound began to close.

“I told you to be careful.” Sarawat accused, even though he looked quite relieved.

Even though the wound was healed, Sarawat kept his grip on Tine’s hand and maintained the proximity between them. Tine’s breath returned to normal but the same dizziness that he had felt before returned.

“I…” Tine murmured as Sarawat steadied him by putting a hand on his lower back. “Sorry. I don’t do well with blood and well, uh, apparently I don’t do that well with compliments either.”

Something that looked like a small smile was tugging at the edges of Sarawat’s lips as he pocketed his wand with his free hand but kept hold of Tine’s with the other. “We have that in common. Is your hand feeling any better? I wasn’t kidding about the Moon Leaf. Even with the healing charm, it’s going to take a few days until the stinging goes away.”

“I’ll be fine.” Tine stared at Sarawat imploringly, wondering why he was so drawn to someone who had basically been a stranger up until a few days ago. “… I think we make a good pair. Despite the danger and bloodshed we encountered.”

“That’s just a typical Tuesday for me.” Sarawat mused with a low chuckle.

The sound of Sarawat’s laugh was infectious and Tine couldn’t help but join in. “Well, I guess you are a Gryffindor, after all. I would much rather stay by the fire in the Hufflepuff Common room than try to save the world every other week.”

“That sounds amazing.” Sarawat sat down next to Tine and hung his head back so he was looking up at the moon, still absentmindedly grasping Tine’s hand.

“I could try to sneak you in some time.” Tine shrugged, attempting to sound casual. “But I guess that wouldn’t exactly be discreet if a bunch of younger students were screaming about you being there but I’m sure we could figure it out…”

“It doesn’t have to be in the Common room. I just kind of meant the idea of just being able to relax with friends, kind of like we are right now.” Sarawat started to pull at some leaves again gently, although it seemed like a harder task to accomplish with only one hand.

Tine registered what Sarawat was saying and muttered, “You want to be friends with me?”

Sarawat slowly turned his gaze toward Tine and lifted their linked hands together. “I kind of figured that was clear by now.”

“Oh… I mean…” The pain in Tine’s hand was slowly dissipating because of the comfort he found in Sarawat’s touch.

“Sorry.” Sarawat stilled suddenly and pulled his hand away from Tine’s. “I didn’t mean to make you feel weird. We don’t have to be friends, I just thought…”

Tine interrupted Sarawat’s rambling by asking, “Who said I wanted you to let go of my hand?”

Tine then boldly reached for Sarawat’s hand and interlaced them again before looking up to see a shocked look on Sarawat’s face. Tine leaned in somewhat, hoping he was reading the situation right and whispered, “See, even Hufflepuffs can be brave.”

Sarawat studied Tine’s eyes at a closer proximity and noticed the moon’s reflection in them. He couldn't help but feel like, in that moment, he could trust Tine entirely. He had never felt the urge to be so close someone and it terrified him more than facing any sort of Magical Beast (and he had battled many). It felt as if this meadow had removed them from their own timeline and they now existed on some sort of alternate plane of their own where it was just the two of them, sharing space and enjoy each other’s company.

Without a second thought, Sarawat brought his lips to brush gently against Tine’s. The contact reminded him of the first time that he had felt magic coursing through his veins: explosive, exhilarating and terrifying - all contained within one feeling.

It took Tine a moment to embrace the reality of the situation but, considering they were in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, he was sure more bizarre things had occurred. If he were to tell anyone the story of his kiss with Sarawat, he was sure that they wouldn’t believe him for even a moment but he didn’t care. He was here and now with Sarawat and while there was a small part of Tine that wondered how the hell he had gotten there, he didn’t feel like questioning it in that very second. Instead, he indulged himself and deepened the kiss.

There was a sudden rustling from the edge of the meadow that sent Sarawat flying into action. Tine watched fondly as Sarawat jumped to his feet, wielding his wand and adopting a protective stance that Tine would be happy to watch on a loop forever based on how intensely handsome it made Sarawat look.

“Wat, I think it was just the wind.” Tine remarked, his head still reeling from their kiss.

Sarawat turned around, the end of his wand lit up with a Lumos charm. “You just called me Wat… I don’t mind it.”

Tine grinned at Sarawat’s response as Sarawat pocketed his wand and made his way back over to Tine. It seemed like Sarawat was going to say something but then he went back to collecting the Moon leaves, as if their kiss had never even happened in the first place. Tine understood the reaction but was also quite disappointed that whatever had gone on between them seemed to likely to stay only in the memory of the meadow.

Tine used his one free hand to start collecting the leaves again, wondering how he was going to be able to sit next to Sarawat every day for the rest of the year without thinking of that kiss. It was just going to have to be something he lived with.

“You know, I wish there was some sort of spell to help me figure this all out.” Sarawat shook his head and seemed to be kind of frustrated. “That all just happened so fast and…”

“We don’t have to have the answers now.” Tine stated plainly, relieved that Sarawat wasn’t just going to pretend nothing happened between them. “In fact, we slow down and take things at our own pace. What is clear is that we make a good team… a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor… who would’ve known?”

“Potions Partners. That’s a good start.” A moonlit grin spread across Sarawat’s face and Tine felt his breath hitch. The sight was more magical than anything else Tine had ever seen in the Wizarding World.

Whatever this was, it was sure to be an adventure…

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