#how dare this club look at this man and want to cast him aside like that

[neuerswaist]

reus2025 (x)

[sugurouge]

— i feel my mind slowly fading : stripper au! togame jo, umemiya hajime, suo hayato x f!reader

summary: at your bachelorette party you are presented with a very special kind of surprise just for you. enjoy the show!

content warnings: nsfw, alcohol consumption in all three scenarios, handcuffs in umemiya's scenario, mentions of infidelity as well as sensory deprivation (blindfolding) in suo's scenario, pet names

a/n: i think, i wanted to add some dimension to these imagines and make them more unique. i hope you enjoy!! (i put full blame on seeing umemiya as a cop)

TOGAME JO — THE PROFESSIONAL

The neon lights of the strip club flicker above you; your head already feels dizzy from the sweet cocktails you have been fed all night long to keep the spirits high. Well, at this point they might be a little too high to keep you in check as you are set on the stage, part of a well-loved stripper's act.

The announcer welcomes you, asking the bride-to-be to take her spot for a very special surprise. And the surprise is handsome, through and through. Tall, very tall, extremely well-trained, his clothes fight to stay on his body. Those charming green eyes shine through despite the colourful lights, staring into yours with a silent invitation to lose yourself tonight.

You can’t help but giggle as he pushes you into the chair, the air being knocked out of your lungs upon the impact. The arousal pooling in your eyes is naughty, a dirty secret that will be kept between him and you once this show is over.

You’re allowed to touch, you just don’t dare to—afraid this moment will turn into a half-finished dream if you move. So, instead, Togame turns his back to you, his police cap sits deep on his face as he looks down, his hand running over his chest and abdomen to bask in the screams of the crowd.

They all watch him unbutton his shirt, hips dancing to the beat as he leans back. The neon lights move above his ripped body, every ab highlighted to perfection. Once the shirt lands on the ground, he grasps your hands with precision, luring you in to feel him, to explore his figure for all those hungry eyes watching from the crowd.

You might lose your sanity on the spot.

Meanwhile, his own hands stay busy with unbuckling his belt before throwing it aside and turning around, his hands finding purchase on the back of your chair as he grinds into the air, eyes boring into your own. How could you not give in to curiosity? How could you hold back now? No, not when his oiled body invites you so well to touch him again, to squeal like you never did in your entire life upon those chiselled abs, to forget about etiquette and your usually controlled self.

Decency? Lost at the threshold.

Replaced by confidence as the alcohol buzzes in your system and Togame frees himself from the tight pants, a well-trained tug and the buttons unpop for the item to be cast aside. He is on his knees for you in seconds, sliding forward for his face to ghost over your chest, your stomach, your throbbing pussy. You practically drool at the sight of his flexing back, your hands look pathetically small compared to his size. The strain this act causes brings sweat to trickle along the crevices of his skin as the flush under his pale skin deepens.

If you didn’t know any better you’d have your hands in his hair, thighs encasing his face to drown him in you.

But instead he pulls back, brings distance between your bodies as the show slowly comes to an end. The cheering of the crowd is almost as thrumming as the racing of your heart and pussy.

UMEMIYA HAJIME — THE AMBITIOUS

You never, never would have expected to spend the late hours of your bachelorette party at a strip club. Your friends had to swear not to plan anything odd, anything that could make your fiancé feel uncomfortable. You were more than just content in your relationship—absolutely thrilled to get married to the man of your dreams.

But now you’re seated on the horribly cheesy throne at the center of the stage, all the visitors of the club cheering for you. The sounds grow louder as you notice a figure coming from behind the curtains to take the spotlight. The first thing you notice is the tacky policeman getup, the handcuffs hanging from the cheap leather belt—you don’t dare to look up. You don’t dare to meet the stranger's face, praying your fiancé would come to pick you up on the spot.

Oh, but he feels good. Large hands ghost along your shoulders, lips brushing over your throbbing pulse point before the handcuffs click shut around your wrists. Yep, you’re stuck with this good cop, bad cop, whatever type of stripper.

And either one of your friends studied your fiancé’s touchy habits very closely and told the performer, or this guy is just very good at guessing your weaknesses.

The pads of his fingers feel so comforting as they tilt your chin up, encouraging you to open your eyes to fully appreciate the dashing man leaning above you.

You could die on the spot.

Your body jerks with shock, eyes widening as if they are about to roll out of their sockets as you’re met with the familiar blue eyes of your fiancé. “Haji!” you exclaim, but he shushes you, tutting once, twice, as a confident smirk forms on his lips. “Not now, princess,” he warns, quirking an eyebrow as his knee finds rest between your thighs on the chair. If he feels nervous, he’s damn good at covering it up. Eyes zeroed in on nobody and nothing but you as he makes a show of unbuttoning his shirt, every button causing you to feel more shameful, more needy.

You want to touch him. You want to touch what’s yours.

The rattling of the handcuffs makes him chuckle lowly—oh, you are so desperate. You stare at Ume’s tongue the moment it darts out to wet his lips before speaking. “No, no, not tonight; we’re not allowed to have sex tonight, darling.” There we go; your thighs press into his knee, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. He throws his shirt off, the crowd goes wild—and you go mad.

“You can look,” Ume continues, his own hands running over every spot you wish yours were, “but no touching,” his smug grin returns. Your eyes get lost in the flexing of his muscles, the bulging of his biceps as his hands unbuckle his belt to throw it aside, slowly grinding against your form, you feel his cock, your body yearning for the familiar stretch whenever Hajime fills you up. “I know it's hard, but you’re going to be a good girl.”

What you don’t know is that Umemiya only agreed to this because he doesn’t want any professional stripper on your lap. No, he’d rather grind against you, he’d rather make a show for everyone else to stare at, knowing that in a few hours he’s going to promise to respect and protect you for the rest of your life.

SUO HAYATO — THE PRETENDER

Nobody knows who he is. Possibly another newbie trying to get his career going, your friends assume. But not the big, brawny police officer they actually hired to strip for you tonight. They all swallow their thoughts of wonder down with more alcohol as Suo approaches your party, with only one goal in mind: you.

His hands lace around your neck, gently holding you in the chair as he whispers, “Congratulations to the bride-to-be,” into your ear, the familiar tassels of his earrings tickling your sensitive neck. Your stomach turns, eyes already fluttering shut upon the sensations that course through you. He must be good, your friends all conclude upon your reaction.

You left him behind years ago, scratched him from your life. You couldn’t be together, but you also couldn’t be apart. Every encounter ended in pure desire, a need for the familiarity of his love like none other. Suo accepted your move, tolerated that you needed to force distance. He couldn’t be the man you deserved, so someone else had to fill that spot—as difficult as it was to accept.

Difficult, more like impossible. He never moved on, never imagined letting you walk down the aisle for someone other than him. He spent years growing into a responsible man, perfecting the art of being a gentleman, only for you to fall into the pits of hell with him tonight.

A silky blindfold restricts your vision, inviting you to remember the nights spent with your ex-lover. The familiar scent fills your senses as Suo smoothly dances around you, fingertips tracing every inch of your exposed skin until you lean into his touch, chasing after the lost sensations once he pulls back.

Only to lean above your frame, to place his hands on the edge of the lounge chair, shamelessly leaning into your space, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he starts. You could already moan. Instead, you chew on your lower lip, fighting yourself and your still evident desire for the man on top. “I had the chance to show up here tonight, or tomorrow at your wedding, giving an awful speech right before you would have given your life away to someone else…”

Your friends reel. You’re not sure why. Too afraid to reach out, to touch this fantasy you left behind. “Hayato…” nothing but a pleading whisper, followed by a whimper as he grabs your hands to help you unbutton his shirt. He feels good. Strong, solid. You miss the warmth of his chest. “I can’t remain silent. I can’t let you live a lie,” he continues, while your hands shrug open his shirt, nails grazing his abs and running along his well-trained thighs. “Run away with me, be mine again, forever.”

The idea makes you laugh. It sounds ridiculous. Who would throw their entire life aside to drown in the shadows of a past relationship? It doesn’t seem so bad anymore once soft hands crane your head back, once those familiar lips ghost over yours. “I can’t, Hayato,” you urge him, pushing against his chest in your final fight. “You can,” he promises you, “give into it, into me. Trust me.”

Your mind feels hazy. The sensations of alcohol and long-lost passion push the angel off your shoulder as the pretentious stripper performs his deceitful show for your friends.

What will you choose?

[illuminatedquill]

Extracurricular, An Analysis

Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri

“Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is sign on as it’s accomplice.”  - Tom Robbins 

You know the story. You’ve heard it before, right? 

Boy meets girl. 

Girl finds out that boy is running a side protection business for prostitutes. 

Girl decides to blackmail boy into letting her join his business. 

Classic high school criminal shenanigans ensue leading them into more dangerous situations where they are forced to make desperate decisions to stay alive. 

Oh, and they fall in love along the way. 

Oh? You haven’t heard this one before? Then let me introduce you to this delightful kdrama called Extracurricular. 

I watched this one while waiting for the newest Hometown Cha Cha Cha episodes to drop and ended up binging the whole series in two days. There are many remarkable parts of this series: it’s a crime drama, first and foremost, that showcases high school teenagers caught in a cycle of violence and crime, abandoned by the society and adults that are supposed to be protecting them. There are no clear good guys and bad guys in this drama; everyone is cast in shades of grey. Our main leads, Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri, run the prostitution business, and are both from broken family backgrounds. Their actions are morally questionable at best, but the top tier performances from Kim Dong Hee (you might remember him from Itaewon Class) and Park Ju Hyun make you cheer for them anyway. You want them to have a happy ending, despite the horrible things they do. The audience is always reminded that despite how clever they are in staying ahead, their actions have consequences, and they’re just high school kids. The drama never pulls it punches. 

But, weirdly enough, it’s also a love story. And that’s the part the really sticks with me until now. (The chemistry between the main leads is absolute dynamite and I could watch ten episodes of them just verbally sparring with each other. They don’t even kiss. They’re that fantastic when together on screen.)

I’m writing this because this is undoubtedly one of my all time favorite kdramas and I have a lot of feelings about our main pairing, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri. I can’t call them a couple (wait, didn’t I just say they fall in love) because their relationship can’t be labelled simply as that. Think of it as something similar to the main leads in My Ahjussi. Two people who should have become soulmates, yet met at the wrong time. 

This kdrama is not particularly happy, and while I do encourage people to watch this, I am warning that the subject matter is extremely dark. If you’re sensitive to scenes depicting sexual assault, graphic violence, or anything in that zip code you’ll want to steer clear. 

Also, I’ll be diving into spoiler territory in this analysis. So if you want to go in clean, then stop reading here. 

Still here? Awesome. Let’s dive deep into the messy, amazing pairing that is Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri. First, let’s do a brief character background on our two main leads, starting with Ji-soo. 

Oh Ji-soo is one half of our main pairing and this story starts with him. He lives by himself and has been essentially abandoned by his only parents; his father is a failed businessman who gambles whatever money he acquires on scams and his mother ran away. His apartment is small, sparse, but functional. He owns only a few outfits aside from his school uniform. The only unique item he owns is a pet hermit crab that he takes care of. His life outside of school is non-existent; he has no friends, no one to hang out with and do typical high school teenager activities with. He takes care of himself and lives only for himself and his “dream”: to graduate, attend college, get married, and have kids like a normal person. 

But to do that, he needs a large amount of money. He has no other financial means to do so (his father is largely absent, as is his mother), so he decides, at some point, to start up this protection business for prostitutes. The drama doesn’t go into detail about the how and why he came to this conclusion that this was the best way to make a lot of money in a short amount of time, so you’ll have to suspend your disbelief from the get go. Considering the themes of the story (how youths abandoned by society tend to act out in extreme ways to make it in this world), it’s not hard to believe his desperation would drive him to make such a decision. 

Ji-soo, despite his shady business, is actually a decent person. There’s a streak of humanity that exists inside him that refuses to go out, despite the increasingly dark and bleak events that start to overtake his life. He’s attached to his hermit crab, cares for his “employees” outside of them being tools to make him money, and doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt. He goes above and beyond what’s required to help out people at the risk of his own life (in particular, Gyu-ri, and we’ll get into that shortly). 

What we learn from the first few episodes is that Oh Ji-soo is extremely smart and methodical in how he approaches his life. At school, he is known as a model student - quiet, top of the class in terms of grades, doesn’t draw any attention to himself, always follows along with what the teachers ask of him. Only his homeroom teacher, Mr. Cho, seems to consider his quiet style of existence to be concerning and tries to make him less socially awkward by pairing him up with another student in a new extracurricular club. This leads to the introduction of Bae Gyu-ri, Ji-soo’s longtime crush and future partner-in-crime. 

Meet Bae Gyu-ri, the other half of our dynamic duo. Her introduction into the story kickstarts the entire plot, as one of her earliest actions leads to a domino effect that spells increasing doom and tragedy for our main leads. She messes with Ji-soo’s operation at a critical moment and she spends the rest of the drama doing her best to make up for the consequences that follow. 

In my personal opinion, she is probably the best main female lead I’ve ever seen in a kdrama. Hands down, no other character exists (currently) that rivals her sheer cunning, wit, and badassery. Gyu-ri is Crazy, capital C, and is the chaos to Ji-soo’s control; the fire to his ice. Despite being the direct cause of half the events that happen to Ji-soo in the drama, he can’t help but need her because of what she offers. They make an incredible team. Her competitiveness, her need to win no matter the odds, helps them survive time and time again. 

Gyu-ri is from the opposite end of the spectrum of Ji-soo; he’s dirt poor and she’s insanely rich (always nice to see a reversal of typical kdrama tropes). Her mother and father run a successful entertainment company. Gyu-ri is popular at school, friends with seemingly everybody, pretty, cheerful and gets along well with her teachers. Ji-soo, and the audience, believe from the beginning that she has the perfect life. It’s not hard to believe that she’s just involving herself in Ji-soo’s business because she’s bored and needs an outlet, at first. 

We soon learn otherwise. Gyu-ri has more in common with Ji-soo than he initially realizes, in that they’re both trapped in circumstances beyond their control - it’s just that Gyu-ri’s cage is gilded, whereas his is not. Her parents are strict and have her life planned out for her, all without her consent or input, leaving her feeling frustrated and powerless despite her rich lifestyle. A suicide attempt hasn’t done much to change her parents attitude towards her, only serving to further their control over her life. 

So, when she learns of Ji-soo’s operation she immediately seeks to angle her way into it. First, she tries to rip him off, believing that he’s an evil “pimp” and thus deserves it. But after spending some time with him, she changes her mind last second and decides to help him out instead. 

And, now, let’s get into their relationship, which is one of the best (if not the best) aspect in the entire series. 

I need to be upfront about something: the relationship between Ji-soo and Gyu-ri is not exactly healthy. I wouldn’t describe it as toxic - the circumstances surrounding them aren’t exactly the best environment to encourage open and honest communication - but it’s definitely not what should be considered ideal, especially for young adults, and especially for young adults who are dabbling in crime instead of studying. 

So, why do I love them so much? If you’ve read some of my previous posts, you know that I loathe toxic relationships in kdramas, so I understand if you think I’m coming off as hypocritical here. Why do I like Oh Ji-soo and Bae Gyu-ri when I didn’t like, for example from recent history, (oh boy, here I go again on my Nevertheless BS) Park Jae-eon and Yu Na-bi?

First, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri are way cooler than Jae-eon and Na-bi ever could be. They run a criminal enterprise that involves having a high amount of intelligence, cunning, and daring to do so. Do Jae-eon and Na-bi run a criminal enterprise as a side business? No, they don’t, because they’re boring art students. 

Secondly, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri actually progress in their relationship and change their views as they learn from each other. Now, granted, that progress isn’t towards becoming better versions of each other - quite the opposite. But at least they have progress. Jae-eon and Na-bi stayed in the same stupid cycle for the whole series and then decided that it was better staying that way as opposed to trying for something else. 

Last, but certainly not least, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri are actually interesting to watch for me. The chemistry between Park Ju Hyun and Kim Dong Hee is explosive and they way they spar, exchange looks, and just generally exist around each other on screen is something I can watch forever. I’ve said this before but Han So Hee and Song Kang’s on screen chemistry, outside of their intimate scenes, really didn’t impress me. 

Okay, back to Extracurricular. This relationship, man. It’s all I can think about (other than HomeCha’s Du-sik and Hye-jin, but that’s another post). Ji-soo and Gyu-ri are so good together. 

I’ve noted before that Ji-soo is methodical in how he approaches his life; he plans out everything ahead, and rigs any situation as much as he can in his favor. It’s brilliant, but when a crisis happens, he doesn’t know how to deal with it effectively. He panics and flounders; becomes indecisive at a time when clear, decisive action is required. 

Enter Gyu-ri. She quickly becomes the partner he never knew he needed. When there’s a situation, she becomes invaluable in her quick thinking and wit, coming up with solutions on the fly. It’s not perfect, but it keeps them just one small step ahead of whatever is coming their way. 

The only thing preventing them from becoming unstoppable is the lack of communication and trust they have with each other. A lot of that has to do with how Gyu-ri entered Ji-soo’s business - she blackmailed him first, and, when that failed, she strong armed her way into getting him to accept her help. It’s implied in the drama that Ji-soo has had a crush on Gyu-ri for a while (since ninth grade, I believe) and in the first episode he actually gets the chance to spend time with her outside of school on a sort of quasi-date. 

It goes sideways pretty quickly because of some shenanigans from his business, but not before she gets to know him and says some pretty touching words regarding his situation. Poor guy is head over heels - even after finding out that she’s the one blackmailing him, his feelings are only dampened, not extinguished. When he catches a glimpse of her family’s situation, he gains a deeper understanding of her and why she acts the way she does. Even more importantly, Ji-soo treats her the same after finding out this information which, to someone like Gyu-ri, means more than if he comforted her about it. 

If you want to see a physical representation of how he feels, other than paying attention to his actions, you can see it in him keeping mementos from Gyu-ri. She has an interesting habit of folding bags into origami shapes and giving it to him. Even after the blackmail reveal, you can see that he continues to keep these in a container on his desk. It’s really cute that he keeps these, when it probably doesn’t even matter that much to Gyu-ri. 

Towards the end of the drama, Ji-soo prepares to turn himself in to prevent Gyu-ri from being implicated in the crimes they committed. And it costs him almost everything to protect her. Ji-soo, the quiet, nerdy kid, puts himself on the line time and time again to protect Gyu-ri, knowing that it puts his life and his dream at risk to do so. And all for what? For some girl that he thinks doesn’t even like him in return? 

Well, let’s talk about that. Because I’ve seen some comments that Gyu-ri was only using Ji-soo for her own selfish gain. And I can agree that was how it was at the beginning for her; she definitely was only interested in acquiring money, like Ji-soo was, in order to achieve her own goal of being free from her parents. 

But, oh man, that is not what is motivating her at the end. 

It’s actually pointed out relatively early by some of her friends that it’s obvious that she likes Ji-soo more than he likes her. Understandably Ji-soo is keeping her at arms length from him given the whole recent blackmailing, so it would make sense that it looks that way. 

Further questioning reveals what she likes the most about him: 

“It’s not like I’m crazy about him. He’s fun. And amusing. He’s smart. And there’s a certain charm he has. He also has a wolfish side to him. But he thinks he’s a puppy.” 

- Bae Gyu-ri

But, as she gets to know Ji-soo better, you can certainly see that she starts to fall hard for him. As a cover story for why they hang out so much together during and after school, Gyu-ri states to everyone that they’re dating. The reactions across the school definitely imply that this is a shocking development, which means that Gyu-ri hasn’t dated anyone before. So why Ji-soo other than the reasons she herself states? 

He challenges her, just as she challenges him. Gyu-ri may be the more dynamic, quick thinking of the pair but Ji-soo is every inch her intellectual equal - just in different ways. She doesn’t seem to be the type to be easily impressed, but you can tell that she’s definitely impressed by Ji-soo’s operation and how thoroughly set up it is. When Ji-soo is frustrated at the beginning by his setbacks, he blows up at another student (knocks him out in a crazy punch) and immediately walks over to Gyu-ri afterwards (who saw the whole thing) to inform her that she is now his partner in crime. 

The look in her eyes, and the small smirk she has speaks volumes about her attraction to him in that scene. Smoldering. 

And, oh yes, she’s prone to jealousy. Another classmate, Min-hee, gives Ji-soo a present out of the blue (it was supposed to be for her boyfriend, Ki-tae, but that’s another sub-plot) - all within view of Gyu-ri. It’s hilarious how she tries to brush it off. Later, for plot reasons, Ji-soo has to spend more time with Min-hee which only furthers Gyu-ri’s annoyance. 

And her motivations stop being entirely about the money and more towards helping preserve the dream that she and Ji-soo share about being free. There’s a scene in episode 8 where it’s revealed that, due to a business partnership with a local gang (set up by none other than Gyu-ri herself in a desperate move), Ji-soo would have to drop out of school permanently to work on their behalf. Gyu-ri overhears this and, despite badly needing the gang’s help in sustaining their own business, immediately terminates the partnership. 

All because it would interfere with Ji-soo’s dream. 

Man, if that isn’t love. 

In the following episode, Gyu-ri, and later on Ji-soo, is kidnapped by the same gang in retaliation for terminating their partnership. Ji-soo comes to her rescue but Gyu-ri is already almost free (again, she’s really, really badass) and is demanding that they bring Ji-soo to her instead of running for her life. 

Surviving this latest attempt puts the two in a reflective, vulnerable mood and Gyu-ri asks Ji-soo why he keeps saving her. Ji-soo asks later on why she keeps risking her life to be with him. They don’t say the answer in words but in an almost kiss (yeah, you read that right - almost). 

And then, if you aren’t already convinced, Ji-soo crosses his one last remaining line in an effort to keep Gyu-ri safe; he accidentally pushes a fellow classmate down some steps and, instead of helping her, leaves her to die after grabbing the evidence she has on him and Gyu-ri. 

Extracurricular pulls off quite the magic trick here, hiding this well done love story in the middle of a serious crime drama. 

The real tragedy is that Ji-soo thinks that Gyu-ri views this whole business, and by extension his life, as one big game. It’s something that she takes offense at, visibly becoming upset when he says that. 

But even if that were true, he should be assured since Gyu-ri doesn’t like to lose. 

As they hurtle towards the end and face up to the consequences of their actions, Ji-soo and Gyu-ri undoubtedly lose sight of their original goals and dreams. They do some fairly horrible things to stay alive and ahead of the police who are close on their trail. You can’t really blame them for doing what they did; in the face of a society that has abandoned them, what they’re doing is a logical outcome to gain what they want so desperately and deserve so much: the chance to be free to live like normal, care-free people. 

I can’t say for certain that they achieve that. The drama is serious in consequences and, at the end, the net around them is drawing tighter and tighter. I won’t spoil the ending scene for you, because I highly encourage you watch this drama yourself but I will say this: Ji-soo and Gyu-ri seem stuck in an impossible situation with nowhere to go, and no one to help them, with a clock ticking down towards either death or discovery by the police. 

But, all the same, I’m always the optimist. They’ve gotten through situations like this before and they can certainly do so again. Maybe not as bad as this one, but not too far out of their league. And, like I mentioned before, Gyu-ri doesn’t like to lose. Especially when it comes to Ji-soo. 

Their relationship is truly dangerous, as Ji-soo himself notes. Them being together is the source of their problems; they’re too much alike now, as opposed to the beginning of the drama where he stated that they’re too different. Their love is the kind of love where both of them are willing to burn the whole world down if it means keeping each other safe. 

I’m a real sucker for those kind of love stories. No one’s a hero here. They’re just kids in high school, doing the best with what they know. 

Who are we to judge what is right and wrong? Especially when the one committing the acts are high school kids who don’t know any better and just want to save each other? 

Do we have that right? 

Do they really deserve that punishment? Shouldn’t we be pointing fingers at the society that forced them to act this way? 

Extracurricular really makes you think about that. Is it really so outlandish and terrible what Ji-soo and Gyu-ri do to survive when the adults who are supposed to be protecting them, teaching them better, have failed in their duty? 

Maybe they really did win at the end. Not so much in succeeding in their goals but in gaining something that not even regular people are likely to find - a partner, a soulmate, someone who will stand by you no matter what. 

If you do watch the ending, and are not an optimist like I am, then all I can say is this: whatever happened, they were together at the end. 

They were together. 

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The last dance (Brandon x MC)

Summary: He quit the team just a minutes before their final performance as a vengeance to his friend for taking his dream away and ruining his future all these years ago. But even he couldn’t walk away seeing the woman who melted his cold-blooded heart out there betrayed and hurting because of aftermath of his choice. Finally, making a decision to help the woman who he got close with to show what she worked for so hard.

Words: 2029

Rating: 17+

Warning: a bit angsty, nothing to descriptive, but guys are stripers, so putting it there. 

Authors notes: I just recently started to play Romance Club and this is my first and only book I was playing so far. As I love dancing movies, I just couldn't come by, though I would love ending on first or third book to be changed or for us to have a choice how to go further with Brandon. I will like he deserved not just walk away but change his mind not for Justin (honestly the moment I find out what he did I said SCREW him... As the saying goes BROS before WHORES...) I like Brandon he reminds me a lot of Beckett from Choices. His characteristics and looks are so similar. I hope you will like it and that is my first fiction for them. I’m even not sure if it is any good, hopefully second part (and here will be second part. Will be better.

Her body tensed like a coiled sprung, frozen in the starting position of their dance. Tensed like a graceful panther before the jump, surrounded by her crew minus one… the one who stole her heart and tore it apart during the crossfire of his revenge.

The lights went dim before the limelights turned on, surrounding them by the blinding colours… ready for their final battle… ready to try and win what they came here for.

Her fingertips lightly touch the cold surface. Her knees raised to her chin as she was crouching on the tips of her ballet shoes in the middle of the stage.

Her head is down and her eyes are closed as she takes a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart. The tears that she was refusing to shed burned behind her closed eyelids as she slowly opened her eyes. And her body started to rise with the first broken accords of the melody matching the hurt and confusion she felt. Brandon’s words still drummed in her ears as the reminder of his betrayal.

I quit… the first tear broke free rolling down her cheek.

I’m sorry, Michelle… Her hands clutched her head while she shut her eyes trying to silence the thoughts and chase away her tears.

I didn’t give a damn about the others. I didn’t want to hurt you, but… there was no other way… Her lips still burned from the sweetness of his last kiss, vaporising the saltiness of her tears.

I lost you the moment I left you… I lost you when I let you go after that night… When I told everyone about us and acted like a selfish jerk… The dog tag pendant, he left to her, burned her bare skin. Marking her… branding her as his…

Her arms clutched around the cool metal tugging it away from her skin before casting her hands aside and jumping in the air, softly rolling over to the ground. While guys formed the line behind her, putting their feet shoulders-width apart, and moving their hips slowly to the same beat Michelle moved. Their bodies bended in the most unimaginable poses, pushing their physical abilities to the limits. Their eyes locked on the girl in her black dress, watching her every move. Ready to rush to her the moment she will need them, but not daring to break the story she was telling, just yet.

The pain, rage and hurt strongly reflected in her every move, unleashing it in the way her body sprung into the air, coiling in the perfect twirl before sitting in a split, pulling her legs to her torso. Hugging her knees, before curling up on the cold stage.

Four strong guys as if on command dropped to their knees beside her, placing their hands comfortingly on her back giving her the much needed strength to rise as guys still kneeling around her. 

Her body arched with her arm outstretched toward the skies, while she stretched her leg up slowly twirling on one leg. Knowing that even with her addition of the ballet to their street dancing and stripping, the third part of their routine is falling flat without Brandon.

Her lower lip trembled, while the guys stretched their arms out and slowly backed away, making it look like a blooming flower, leaving her behind and making her feel as lonely as ever. Her fists clenched into white knuckled grip, while she tried not to break. Feeling that every single effort she put into that was for nothing. Feeling betrayal to the core. Not having a single clue that not only guys who were on stage were closely watching her, taking the sudden decision because of her.

Suddenly the stage became covered in a thick smoke and she felt a tight, but gentle grip on her waist. Hot breath fanned across her neck sending a familiar shiver along her spine. And as if on cue it started to rain, washing away her tears while she turned to face the man holding her close to his chest. Feeling how his heart raced next to hers.

Her chocolate burning eyes met a calm sky-crystal gaze, clashing with each other. Her coral lips parted, breathing out the question she couldn’t ask. Why? While he lowered his lips to her ear breathing out the answer he couldn’t give. For you…

His hands gripped the thin material of her black sparkling dress, while her fingers curled firmly around the material of his black shirt so different from the costumes that the other guys were wearing. Tearing at each other's clothes at the same time and letting them fall to the ground as the guys ripped off their tops and jumped on the poles at the edges of the stage.

Michelle threw her hands upwards to the rain and the stars, sliding to her knees, while the back of Brandon’s hands grazed hers before sinking on his knees behind her. Twirling and splashing water around them, stumping their fists to the ground in sync before raising back to their feet.

Brandon’s hand tightly gripped Michelle's, pulling her toward him before letting her run to the pole mixing her ballet movements with the street dance swagger. Her body easily spun around the pole like a swallow aiming to the sky before she was back into the strong arms of the man, starting their dance.

They circled around each other, not quite touching. Their bodies easily move to the beat. Their gazes locked burning even stronger with each spin. His body radiating the heat as he stood behind her, tracing her stomach with his palm and making the goosebumps run over her exposed skin. His fingers gently tracing the outline of her breasts, while his other hand ran up her thigh, making her breath hitch just slightly.

His hands gripped hers before throwing them behind his neck and spun her across the stage, while other guys continued with their stripping routine. Her body tensed against his before she turned around to face him. Her hands firmly holding to his shoulders tugging him toward her and doing a split before regrouping her body on the tips of her ballet shoes and arching her back to rise up leaning on her hands. But before she could do that she felt Brandon hung over her. One hand in her hair while another curled around her waist pulling her up, continued the dance closely to each other. Moving their bodies in sync, grinding them against each other to the beat.

Her lips almost brushed against Brandon’s, while his hand caressed her thigh lightly, tugging her even closer to his body. His fingers traced up her skin soothingly before resting his hands on her waist, ready to dip her low before their final element. While their bodies still continued to move in a fierce mix of two dancing styles.

“Let’s do it,” whispered Michelle, stopping him mid-move.

“What?” hoarsely asked Brandon. His intense scorching gaze fixed on Michelle’s. The energy beating from them in waves clashed together.

“The move… the backwards somersault…”

“Are you sure…” asked Brandon in amazement, putting his palm tenderly over Michelle’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the corner of her lips.

“I trust you,” was the only thing she mastered to utter through her dried throat before suddenly everything around them stopped to exist. 

The guys, who were doing one hand stand, to the jubilation of the crowd. The crowd whose screams faded to barely audible background noise. And all that was left was them. Here and now… Together… at least for now.

It took them only a second before she was hosted up onto his outstretched hands used as a footing for the somersault… another second to be thrown into the air and for her body weightlessly arch in midair before falling back into his strong arms.

Brandon caught her effortlessly, securing her ankles behind his back when their bodies collided. Her hands clawing at his muscled back, locking them in impassioned full embrace, while his hands firmly locked around her petite frame holding her close to him with her head resting on his shoulder with her eyes shut.

Their hearts thundered in unison, holding them together while the crowd around them exploded with a storm of standing ovations joined by the crew, bringing Brandon to reality.

Gently, he eased Michelle back to the floor, allowing his lips just slightly brush against her forehead lingering there only for a moment before taking the step back, turning around and leaving everyone behind.

His last dance with the only woman who he couldn’t betray… couldn’t forget… He quickly went to the back exit not looking back, feeling how the raging emotions whirled inside him.

“Thank you…,” he heard behind him, and this simple phrase made his blood boil, turning around sharply. His eyes locked with the melting chocolate gaze filled with confusion. His gaze only on hers ignoring everyone else around them.

“Don’t…” he cut the man, who uttered the words, coldly. “I did it for her… Only her…,” he whispered with the uncharacteristic warmth in his words before turning back and exiting backstage leaving the crew behind speechless. Without a single word or thought Michelle ran after him just in time to see the guy hurling his fist into the brick wall hissing and cursing in pain.

The door slammed behind her, making his body tense slightly, feeling her presence. His palms pressed to the wall and his forehead resting against it taking shallow breaths, trying to calm his raging emotions.

“Cutie, why are you chasing me?” he asked, not turning back, while he felt her approach him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“Don’t…,” he hissed through the gritted teeth. “I said I didn’t do that for them or for winning…”

“I know,” quietly said Michelle.

“NO, you don’t,” he bellowed, whirling around. “You have no fucking clue,” he gritted, reaching her just in few strides and kissing her, passionately… without reserve. Tasting her lips hungrily. The confusion, pain, guilt replaced each other with incredible speed. And there were no words that would be able to describe what he felt… to describe the emotions, he never thought were possible for him to feel.

She could feel his hand on her waist bringing her closer to him while another was in her hair, deepening their kiss. His tongue reaching for hers, twirling around each other in a sensual dance. His kiss so hard and fierce forced a low guttural moan to leave her throat startling them both with the notes of desperation and need. Making him froze for a moment, looking at her in awe and something else that was hidden firmly behind his steel burning gaze… vulnerability, he never felt with anyone else.

His head dropped to her neck kissing, licking and biting a burning path from the hollow of her throat back to her lips. Sensing how they both were going out of their minds with desire and something else… something more… something that melted his cold-blooded heart, making him go there to the stage and join her for their last dance.

The question is strongly burning on the tip of his tongue, swirling desire and need inside him with the force… driving him to the edge of insanity. His lips against hers, his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see the disappointment and hurt that would flash through her gaze as it did after that fateful night.

The words are almost there… almost leaving his lips but he stops them… forcing them down his throat as he should have done that night…

“We shouldn’t…” he uttered quietly. The words hanging between them interrupted only with their breathing before Brandon broke the silence with his next words. Not ready to say goodbye just yet… “Let me walk you back to your room. Let me speak with you, even if it is our last time.” The words sliced her anew, making her accept the truth… making her accept that he would never stay even for her… making her accept that he would never be what she needed… the guy who would stay for forever.

Tagging: @choices-bound​ @lahelasaveiro​ @xxrainbow-princessxx​ @jamespotterthefirst​ @thefrenchiemama​ @135lostsoul @eightestalde

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 29

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary:  Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​

Life is one of those complicated concepts that usually take years to master its basic truths, and even then one can never be sure if any random, unexpected turn of events won't bring new factors into the equation. 

Loki was far from understanding the universal truths of the universe, but his mind often wandered into the more philosophical aspects of reality. On one of his journeys though, and one seasoned with the tiniest bit of wine at that, Loki came to a rather rattling conclusion that to wreak chaos, your own two hands were sufficient, but if you truly needed to unravel a catastrophe, you needed a team.

Loki liked his current team, even if it only consisted of one person.

"Oh dear," you mused sweetly, putting your cards on the table. "It looks like I am, indeed, lucky tonight." 

The card Loki slid into your hand a few seconds ago was right in the middle. It was a beautiful sight. 

"Who doesn't love a little luck?" the thick accent of the man barely covered the growl rumbling in his deep voice. He was a mountain of a man that apparently went by the self-explanatory title of Boss. 

Boss had little hair and even less patience. Loki was sure he used up the last of the latter when he had to deal with two people suddenly invading his private booth and inviting themselves into his round of cards. There was a moment when things were a breath away from escalating, when two of the bodyguards rose with an intent very clear on their faces. Loki braced himself for the impact, and had already shifted his bodyweight for the upcoming fight, but as it was very common amongst men of culture, this situation too was resolved with the most universal argument - the money. 

Whoever you grabbed the money off in the crowd, was up for a very nasty surprise - Loki's favorite one. He laughed as you slid into the booth with that wicked smile of yours and threw the money over the cards. The two of you must have looked like madmen, at least if the reaction of the crowd was any indication. The glances thrown in your direction were quick and wide-eyed, but no expected bloodshed followed. Not yet, at least. Not if Loki and you had anything to say in the matter. 

"I absolutely love having a good time with you, guys," you said, pushing the money you won onto your side of the round table. "We should do this more often." 

The two bodyguards had to leave the booth to make room for you to play with Boss. They didn't venture far, but stood right behind the cushioned couch circling the table and stared with growing anger. It spread like the stench of sweat, evaporating through their pores. Loki blew another kiss in their direction. 

"You sure are a lucky pair," Boss rumbled. His eyes scanned you from underneath his thick brow. "I rarely see someone with so much attitude in this place. To be honest, I think I'm seeing you for the first time." 

"It's never too late to make friends," Loki flashed his most annoying half-smile, making sure to pour some of his drink on the floor before another guard "accidentally" passed the booth. You were both walking a very thin line, already stretched and taunt. 

"Friends - yes. But I'm starting to think your intentions might be a little different." 

You gasped. Loki looked offended. The line grew thinner. 

"I swear to god," you put a hand over your heart. "We have no evil intentions towards you or anyone in this place." 

The god solemnly approved. He liked you. You earned your pass. 

"Are you up for another round?" he asked, pouring you more wine and then serving himself. "Oopsie, looks like another bottle is gone. It really is a good night." 

The bottle flew over his shoulder and crashed with a satisfying sound that made it through the booming music. Someone cursed. 

A muscle twitched in the Boss's jaw. 

"Get out." 

"Oh, dear," you leaned into Loki dramatically. "Look at what you've done. I think he lost his temper." 

"It appears so," he admitted indifferently, brushing your arm with his free hand. Sure, it was a part of your performance, but it still felt good when you didn't flinch or pull away. He tried not to think too much about it. 

The flashing lights did wonders to your features, though. 

"Don't worry, Boss, I'll get you a new one," you crooned and slipped out of the booth before anyone could stop you. 

You sent a meaningful look in Loki's direction before disappearing into the crowd. It must have held a significant meaning - that much was obvious. But for a reason completely unknown to him, Loki had no idea what it was about. 

He cursed you softly in the safety of his thoughts, but without ill intentions. 

"Smile, darling," he addressed the Boss to cover his feelings. "The night is only growing more beautiful with each passing minute." 

"I wouldn't be so sure." Boss lit another cigarette. The thick smoke filled the secluded confines of the booth. Loki wrinkled his nose with pure, unfiltered disgust. 

"As if the general smell of this rathole wasn't bad enough," he rasped dramatically, waving in front of his face. 

"If you're so unhappy here, I'd usually suggest leaving, but with you two…" Boss leaned closer. "I'd actually prefer for you to stay a while longer. I'd really like to hear your stories." 

There were three things that Loki realised at that very moment. 

First and the most important one, was that your so-called plan actually succeeded. There was no way Boss would let you go now. 

Second was the reason behind your very meaningful stare. The man seemed to be missing one of his clue elements. And Loki knew precisely the sneaky bastard who'd dare to put their sticky fingers over Boss's phone without him noticing. 

The third and the least pleasant one, was that Boss was even more hideous from up close. 

Loki turned his eyes off his face, and by chance or blind luck, caught sight of you by the bar. You had your back towards the booth, but you seemed to be very occupied with something - either the phone or buying time. Loki wished he had a way of telling you time had just run out, but it seemed like once again, things would get heated without any forewarning. 

Boss caught his gaze. 

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll find a nice place for your partner too." 

Something tightened in Loki's chest. "What did you just say?" 

The man barked a laugh, leaning back on the couch with a grand gesture. It was probably meant to distract Loki enough for one of the bodyguards to slip in behind him. Loki pretended he didn't catch the reflection in his empty glass. 

The music was deafening, but over the bass and strange, sharp sounds, the blood started to pound in Loki's veins, despite his hands growing colder. Boss didn't notice the change in the atmosphere. He didn't notice the air halt and the people closest to them disperse, subconsciously giving in to their instincts.

 Instead, he said:

"You thought we wouldn't notice that we somehow got ourselves cops in this place? What, you couldn't get a warrant so you went undercover and thought no one would bat an eye?" he sneered, puffing a greyish cloud of smoke. "You better have some fun tonight. It's your last chance." 

Well, time had run out. Loki wished you good luck on your side of the club. 

And started the fun. 

You, on the other hand, noticed very little of what was happening back at the booth. You were lucky enough to use the few seconds of distraction and the general mess on the table to snatch the phone, but you were sure that was where your luck ended. 

Peter was right, and something was definitely going on in the place, but without hard evidence, it would be difficult to prove anything. Your best guess was somewhere between drugs (exchanges of which you could spot a few places even now) and maybe some smuggling business. But there always could be more, right? 

For more, sadly, you reached out without a second thought and now had to deal with the consequences. Especially as the correct password ideas were running thin with each of your guesses. 

You wanted to smash the phone over the bar, but you did your best to smile nonchalantly as you waited for the barman to get the booze you requested. Playing with a phone could not be suspicious by any means, but you felt like you were holding a ticking bomb. It was not how you expected to spend the night, and neither, apparently, did the barman. 

He put the bottle in front of you, casting a glance over your shoulder. You had a nasty suspicion he noticed who you had been residing with for the past half an hour. 

He cleared his throat and you held the phone a little firmer, ready to smash his face. 

"I think your friend dropped something," was at the very bottom of the list of the things you expected to hear. 

He was holding something out. You looked at the note with an unmistakable line of numbers on it and then back at the barman, currently looking away. You slipped the note into your pocket. 

"I'll make sure he gets it back," you said. Maybe the night wasn't so lost. 

Some relief was seen on the man's face as the tension left his shoulders. "Do you think he—”

You would never get to know what was about to be said, because that was the precise moment when the aforementioned "he" decided to snap. Along with the table, from the sounds of it. 

The stool turned smoothly underneath you as you steered yourself to face the chaos. Unsurprisingly, Loki was in the center of it. What did surprise you was the rate at which the chaos was moving toward you. 

Screams and curses pierced the air from those standing in the way of the chaos. Bodies were pushed aside, drinks spilled, and dresses ruined as the hurricane erupted. The flashing colors bathed the scene in an ethereal aesthetic, making you wish you had a camera. 

It truly was a sight to marvel at, you admitted as you watched Loki's nimble figure move between the guards, avoiding some punches and looking unfairly good while taking others. 

An arm was yanked the way no limb was supposed to be bent. The man tumbled into the dissipating crowd, clutching it to his chest. Another was coming from behind, but he too wasn't spared from the gracious violence the god unraveled on his way. Sweat and makeup glistened on his skin, and his hair was blown to one side from the speed he moved at. 

The force of nature incarnated moved closer. You jumped behind the bar, grabbing a bottle as you did so. Loki soon followed. Something suspiciously similar to gunshots sounded on the other side not much later. 

You slipped on the floor, hip colliding painfully with the surface, but it didn't ruin your mood as you turned to Loki. 

"That was amazing. I want to get you painted." 

"If we had time, I'd suggest a nude version," he said, a little breathlessly. 

He wiped his hair off his face and slipped further down the thick steel and polished wood as glass rained down. Countless bottles on the huge, ceiling-high shelves behind the counter, now being crushed into pieces by the shots. 

Your arm stung as the shards bit into your skin. You kept your face down as Loki pulled you underneath him, holding you tight to his chest. You watched the alcohol pool over the floor and the loose shards of colorful, thick glass littering the floor in a thick layer. There was little space between the counter and the wall, and you felt your clothes start to soak as the two of you cowered into as small a target as possible. It was not the best moment for such reflections, but you had to admit, Loki had the perfect body to be pressed into. 

Under Loki’s arm, you met the eyes of the barman, kneeling two steps away. Whatever happiness he had half a minute ago, now seemed to perish along with the priceless bottles shining on the floor. 

"You guys are nuts!" he yelled over the uproar, Army crawling someplace safer. 

You watched his bent back leave only the two of you behind the bar. He must've truly believed in his luck to risk leaving cover. Or, which was far more probable, he just wanted to get as far away from you as possible. 

You couldn't blame him. 

"We have to move," you tried to yell over the noise. "Before they come and take us out." 

"Thank you for your input, and how do you plan to execute it?" Loki snarled, showered in liquor. 

He should've known that asking you for a plan was a bad, terrible, not good idea, but in the moment he asked, his patience was worn thin and his focus was elsewhere, so really, it couldn't be blamed entirely on him. 

Asking you for a plan was actually a great idea in your humble opinion. There was a certain amount of talent and pure genius involved in coming up with a way of getting out of such a situation. All you needed was an upturned stool previously occupying the other side of the bar, and the spreading puddle of alcohol. 

Before Loki protested, you untangled yourself from his limbs. There was little space behind the bar, but you managed to push yourself from one of the shelves to gain speed as you slid on the slippery floor to the left. 

The shield of the counter ended right when you reached the abandoned stool, grasping it with both hands. The glass bit into your legs, but you ignored it for the time being. Swinging the stool at the closest bodyguard was far more attention consuming. 

It hit the target with a satisfying, if a little nauseating, crunch. You felt the impact in your hands. The stool slipped from your wet fingers, but you were already moving to the next man, dangerously close to where Loki and you had been hiding moments ago. 

The man started, not expecting to see you fighting back. He backed a step, and turned the gun in your direction with an unnerving smoothness. The lights blinded you for a moment, flashing straight into your eyes. Your foot slipped on the wet floor and you fell to the left with all the grace of a bag of potatoes.

A shot pierced the air and deafened you, but the bullet didn't meet your flesh. Your elbow, not yet healed, screamed in protest as it hit the floor first. You saw yourself moving back up, but you also saw the gun turning to point at you again. The gun was faster. 

The world was spinning and colors merged, but you could have sworn a hand reached out from behind you, whether to push you or shield you, you'd never know. 

What you saw in more detail than you ever thought possible, was the thick, grey metal of a bracelet around its wrist. Something collided with it, by skillful placement or mere luck, denting the metal in what must have been a painful hit. 

And then the bracelet broke. 

The lights dulled and for a moment the air felt too heavy to breathe as your lungs screamed under the bone-cracking pressure. And as cracking static prickled the men's skin, something shifted deep in the fabric of reality and then surged to the surface and broke out fully. 

Magic rushed from the bottomless pit it'd been locked in for too long, freezing everything in its wake. It stung Loki's skin, as if a conscious part of his soul, angry, lonely and immensely powerful, finally found him and reconnected with what was unrightfully severed. 

The god smiled. And struck. 

[hedgefairy]

Okay, I know, I know, it's already old news, everybody and their uncle in the costuming community has already talked it over, but anyhoo, I made notes when I crawled my way through effing Bridgerton and I will be damned if I don't vomit them onto this site. I have 32 pages of this shit, I'm not gonna throw that away.

I'm also typing this on my phone because I'm stuck on a trainride that's just doubled in length because this is the 2021 Northern German snow storm. What, there's snowflakes on the rails? We cannot possibly keep up our schedule, say goodbye to 90% of the connections.

Okay, on to Bridgerton, Episode 1

We're in Britain (oh, London, okay), allegedly 1813. I see people who are clearly meant to be asympatico, but is this size incusivity I spot there? Daring! Gasp! Me li...

Oh wait, no. The character is promptly shamed for her figure (which is mostly caused by the horrible cut of her dress. Every size can look great in Regency garb, but never mind, we need to make the "fat one" look bad!).

Also, no shifts under the stays. Why. There was obviously enough budget, don't tell me you couldn't afford a few strappy tops - it's not like the rest is historically accurate, so it would have sufficed to send some poor underpaid intern to H&M and get some. Nvm, that wouldn't be sexay.

Wait, is the garishly dressed (always a sign of a character of bad character in a costume drama) woman Delphine from Selfridge? Does she always have to play bitches? That's not nice, and just because she has a recognisable face, which by modern (read: americanised) standards is not favourable enough. Ugh. But I like the actress, so I'll let it slide (for now).

Lol, buttocks.

Not sure about the girls' dresses. Also, the Queen is a WOC, cool!

Oh no, one of the Featherington sisters faints! But that's okay because the Featheringtons are just comic relief and foil anyway.

I get weird incest vibes from the Bridgertons.

So the court is clearly 18th century and the show is set in the 1810s. I've by now seen several explanations for this decision, I still think it robs the Queen of reproductions of her actual historical gowns which were heavily inspired by the 18th century but so. Magnificently. Weird. It would have been so neat, and more of a "hey, I'm kinda out of touch with things" vibe, but hey, I'm not the one getting paid for making those taffeta gowns here (her hair is glorious, tho).

I'm very into the intro.

That Regency gossip girl is a real b, not unlike the Dowager Countess of Downton (unpopular opinion, I think she's pretty overrated, yes, I like Maggie Smith).

Again, no shifts.

Where do I know the "pragmatic" Bridgerton sister from? Ah, it's The Paradise. And Jonathan Strange. (Wait, she's my age. And she's supposed to be a teenager. Man, do I love a good Dawson casting. I like the actress, though, she has a face ™!).

Aaaah. We get it. She's the spirited one. She also doesn't care about dresses because she's not like other girls™. I really like her voice (but she still doesn't sound like a teenager).

The heck is up with Lady F's dress and that of her friend? Oh, yeah. Antagonist fashion.

Of course the Featheringtons are Horrid Hags™ aside from Penny who's nice, but the pudgy one (at least we don't get a case of "she's not conventionally attractive so she's bad").

Oooh, the cousin! Supposed to suck, but ofc she's a stunner, and only Penny (who's the nice one, remember!) is delighted to have her around. She's also a POC, which is nice but apparently that means she does not follow fashion, hair-wise. I would have loved to see some Regency hair on her, it would have been so pretty *cries in Greek updo*

Ugh, we're still in Ep. 1, typing this on my phone was a bad idea.

Lady Danbury and the Duke guy are delightful with each other (more POC! So neat!).

The girl the oldest Bridgerbro screws is apparently a singer, which isn't up to status for his doucheship, and she doesn't wear a shift.

The music at the ball sounds like something from the Top 40s, but I'm woefully ignorant of contemporary music charts so I can't tell what it is. I like it when they do that in historical-ish works, making well-known pop or rock stuff work for the ambience (ugh, that dance scene to Golden Years in Knight's Tale. My heart. In a good way.)

I dig the Ducktail hair of Penny's crush. Oh, wait, that's a Bridgerbro. I don't quite get why the hair trends of the time don't apply to the POC characters or extras, but seeing how most white characters also show a shameful disregard for the weirdnes and gloriosity (that's not a word) that is early 1800s hair (the 1830s take the cake, tho) despite those hairdos being basically designed for white people hair, I don't think I care much (well, I do, but about all of them). Overall the hair is horrid and not very 1810s. Let's just leave it at that.

Like a good old romance novel (I've since been told that Bridgerton is supposed to be a pastiche of such novels, but I really couldn't tell from the series, not at all, and I'm not inclined to read the books) we have

a pretty, kind, superpure daughter of the main family

the mean matriarch (could have been an aunt, too, but here she's the mum) of the rivalling or antagonist family

a spirited daughter of the main family (in most romance novels this would be our heroine but so far she refreshingly lacks a love interest and pretty daughter seems to get the most screen time)

a Horrid Suitor™

a Hot Suitor™ who doesn't want attention

a really good and doting good parent

Lol, misheard Greece for Grease with Ducktail Bridgerbro, whose name is Colin, apparently. This is funny because of his Danny Zuko memorial hair.

Overall a bit too much bling for my taste, and too few pearls. It looks like an episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen with a Regency theme.

Of course the romance is going to be the Pretty One aka. Daphne and the Duke and he's even bros with her eldest bro. Wait, are they exes? I can haz bi? No? Aww, shucks. Maybe in another episode (spoiler: no).

Okay, WHAT is it with Lady F's dresses and hair. Like, she reminds me of Mars Attacks. Which, as you might remember, was not set in the Regency period.

Lord B (Bridgerbro the Eldest) sucks, he's screwing Opera Girl without any intention of marrying her but he's bitchy about his sister being ogled by his Eton (or wherever) bestie?

Oh, I'm in Hamburg now. And my train back home got canceled, so back to Berlin it is because there's not a single option to get to Hanover tonight, at least that's what the lady from the train station is saying, "oh well, you'll have to go back and try again tomorrow", so that's awesome...

Honestly, if it weren't so late and I didn't have things to do at home I'd find this terribly exciting.

Back to Bridgerton!

Where were we? Ah.

I can't even read my own annotation. Something about George III. I think I was upset about how they totally ignored that it's called Regency because George IV acted as the regent king, and he doesn't even feature in the series, I guess because they wanted to play up the Queen? Not a fan, because thanks to Horrible Histories I'm quite fond of that guy.

Again, no shifts.

Oh, look, it's Horrid Suitor™, destined for leftovers.

The Featherington cousin gets all the attention but no fleshed-out character.

Penny Featherington's dog is named Lord Byron, which ❤️

I like the Duke! He's there, drinking in his club (even though they're a patriarchal remnant of the past I have a weird appreciation for stuffy Gentlemen's Clubs, I blame Bertie Wooster and the Drones), calling Lord B out for his general fuckery.

Oh no, Ducktail Colin is more into the Cousin than Penny, who obviously pines for him!

Thank you, Lord B, for enabling Horrid Suitor™. Nobody asked you to be such a fucktwit.

The Queen is, of course, a bit of a bitch, but patronage from cool Lady *scrolls up for name* Danbury ensues for Protagonist Girl™ Daphne.

"I wish they had found a better trend language", what the heck did I even mean by that? That's what you get for just scribbling down notes while watching and simultaneously sewing. 18th century pants, in case you wanted to know.

Cousin is angry, probably because Lady F behaves like Cinderella's evil stepmother, because Cousin is prettier than her daughters and gets, like, all the suitors because Lord B bitched away everyone who wanted to get into Daphne's dowry ifyouknowwhatImeanwinkwinknudgenudge, right across the street into Cousins parlour.

The Bridgertons are annoyingly perfect. Ugh.

Oh look, it's "banter" between Daphne and Dukey! It's so Pride & Prejudice! It's almost a tiny bit Shakespeare! I put banter in parentheses because wow, nope, I'm not getting any chemistry here.

Uh, Lady B calls out Lord B (aka. her son aka. Bridgerbro the Eldest) for his screwery with Opera Girl and his outpimpery of his sister to Horrid Suitor™, buuuurrrrrnnn. He promptly calls of his affair with Opera Girl.

No shifts!

Penny gets to dance with Ducktail Colin at the thing! Good for her, but it's a country dance with jumping and fun, because she's a) the pudgy character and b) a Featherington, so it can't be something romantic and pretty (I personally like country dances, but they aren't protagonist dances).

Oooh, Cousin had her period, oh no, oh snap, oh she didn't, because she's PREGNANT! Shit, that's problematic, and not because she's an unmarried woman in the 1810s, but because she gets close to no lines at all so far, and suddenly she's pregnant and telling Lady F that she sucks for being privileged, violence ensues, this is ugly. Man, I get what some critics mean by "the POC actors*actresses get all the problems" and that not exactly being great.

Horrid Suitor™ makes property claims about Daphne, eeewwwww, thanks to Lord B's general suckiness, ewww, r@pe attempt ensues, was that really necessary? It doesn't really fit in with the rest of the series and generally nope, yay, broken nose! (which was indeed totally necessary). Nice one, and probably the only scene so far (spoiler: overall) in which I actually like Daphne. Dukey thinks a mean left hook is attractive, and, generally speaking, he's not wrong.

Daphne and Dukey come up with a pseudo-shakespearean plot to pretend to be totally into each other so she can attract suitors by being not available and he gets not to have fangirls by being not available, and as someone who has read a few too many historical-ish bodice rippers I know exactly where this is going. I mean, come on.

I can't see enough of the following choreography to complain about it. Man, I miss historical dance classes.

And that concludes Ep. 1! Finally! Thank you for getting this far, sorry for all of it (especially typos, it's the bane of unwanted autocorrect), I guess?

Update on the train situation: I've been told by the ticket control person that I shouldn't get my hopes up until noon tomorrow.

To be continued,

because I didn't take these 32 pages of notes for nothing.

[leaveharmony]

would love to know about some of kennys other offenses. please.

Boy howdy nonners, how long have ya got lol

Alright so I was never...A Fan, to begin with.  I tolerated him even if I found him irritating in a lot of ways.  

The real Problems I had w/ him started at the first press conference after he won the Heavyweight title; that night jericho won the Intercontinental and (fucking) elgin won the NEVER; kenny basically outright said that three (white) guys from Canada just "wanted it more" than the domestic roster.  That he "never sees" the Japanese wrestlers at the gym, that they're "complacent" and that's why they were outshone.  Everybody lost their minds.  A good friend was trying to gently tell him "Bro you're better than this, you really should have chosen your words more carefully here because that could really, super be interpreted as racist" And he directly responded RE "Please don't look for any 'hidden' racist meaning..." and basically doubled down, and then stood back & watched all his followers bully the shit out of my friend for like a week solid, for the crime of daring to question his choice of words.  She didn't even call HIM a racist, just suggested he could maybe be more mindful when talking directly to western fans bc there's always been a miles-long racist streak in wrestling in general and him talking that way when so many ppl accept what he says as gospel wasn't helping.

There was the bodyshaming...that wasn’t a one-time thing, either, but I digress.

There was the absolute debacle when Meltzer got involved w/ an article RE after kenny left he had "visa problems" ...you have to walk that back to the press conference between Tana and kenny before WK (iirc) wherein kenny claimed he'd gotten his citizenship and felt like he was now "real Japanese."  Which was...kinda yikes in and of itself, but after all that shook out and he took his ball and went home it transpired that it was a flat-out lie, and he'd actually gotten like, a permanent residency.  Now: that meant, so long as he had a company sponsoring him he enter and leave Japan as he pleased w/ that paperwork.  Only he quit NJPW.  So they were no longer sponsoring him, but he was still trying to enter the country w/ this visa/status he had absolutely no claim to anymore because he gave it up when he no longer had that position w/ their company.  This turned into a whole ridiculous conspiracy theory RE NJPW was somehow pulling strings to "get him banned from the country for ten years."  The ten years figure was...actually how long he'd have to wait before reapplying for the status he lost, as was explained to me by someone who actually had some experience in the area.  How much of that nonsense actually came from kenny’s own mouth right to Meltzer's ears?  Hard to say, and it MAY have been a miscommunication that got printed as fact, but all Himself would say was a dramatic "Someday I'll tell you all about how my year was SO MUCH WORSE than rumoured."   All he had to do was say 'Guys no I just ran into some red tape, NJPW has nothing to do with it' but instead he had to fuel the gossip of a mysterious, malicious conspiracy against him and cast the mean, cruel company who...let him leave when he quit...as the relentless villain bullying him out of the country.  This sounds like an exaggeration but he did, actually, have some stupid video based on Undertale (I think?) made in which there was a knockoff Lion’s Mark literally playing the villain.  It was...extremely embarrassing tbh.  And he may even believe it, who knows?  He may actually believe he was pushed out because he was a ~foreigner~ they refused to take seriously; his ego is big enough that I’d not be surprised.

Sometimes istg he even gaslights himself; I remember when he said Shinsuke "hasn't done anything compelling" since leaving for wwe (as though Shinsuke books himself lol)...but then before aew formed, but after he left NJPW, he kept claiming that if he went to wwe he'd be able to put on a seven-minute clinic every show, with the scraps of screentime they throw him...that everybody would be talking about him and only him, that he’d ‘enjoy’ the creative restrictions...as though he didn’t like, walk out on their developmental years ago because of all those restrictions :/

Just last year he was still bitching that Shinsuke never dropped the Intercontinental directly TO him, instead vacating it for a tournament.  Because Shinsuke was "one of their guys," because he always has to have a Special Connection to everyone...as though when this man was about to take a huge step and start a new life, what everybody should really have been thinking about was "Gosh but what about kenny though, shouldn't he have had the distinction of beating him directly for it?"  And notably that’s all he’s said about Shinsuke since he left.  Never brings him up when ppl ask who he’d like to see in aedubya, nothing like that...so I mean, so much for special connections or respect lol.  Respect only goes one way for him.

There was certainly the time he booked a convicted sex offender!  For one of his lil pet shows.  And when ppl called him on it he immediately got defensive and took issue with their "tone" and how they were ~judging him~ without having full information, and if they wanted him to respond politely they should speak kindly and politely to him first (again you’d think I’m exaggerating but that is actually what he said, try being kind and polite).  It took maybe a day of fighting people on twitter before he acted like a fucking adult about that one, even if his sullen "apology" still came off like it had an unspoken "...even though I didn't do anything wrong personally" tacked on the end.

There was his fucking...infuriating white saviour complex RE how with him Steering the Ship NJPW would be unstoppable.  There was his ludicrous claim that "Tanahashi's never done anything for international fans"...conveniently omitting that if it weren't for Tana, there wouldn't have been a company left to hire his skank ass, let alone one for there to be international fans OF.  There was his wink wink nudge nudge way of trying to play both sides; acting Respectful and like a Good Guy when he gave comments in Japanese and essentially going "SIKE!" in english so the neckbeards knew he didn’t really think he wasn’t the only thing worth watching.  He made a point of saying during that feud that if they dared put Tana over him the company would be "going backwards," and then made a point of saying he "Can't work under Tanahashi" as he left - a last cheap parting shot to make sure everybody knew who to 'blame' for him tragically leaving.

He straight up said the whole native roster should "thank me for their paycheques" because of course kenneth omegaman is the only one anyone is paying to see, no one else could possibly be interesting enough to tune in for, only him.

I remember when he was hilariously claiming that LIJ would never catch on for the western audience and Naito would never be popular here lol.

He bitches, somehow, simultaneously about not having been made leader of the bullet club soon enough (having to step aside for aj), and that "before the first Okada match" he was making more money from prowrestlingtees than he was from his contract (as though making him leader of the most visible western faction and essentially giving him a license to print money in the process somehow wasn't enough).

Like two years after he left he is still!  Taking every chance he can get!  To shit on NJPW.  He and the fucking bucks were still shit-talking Harold, ffs, years after they left.

....I feel like Marge when Reverand Lovejoy was asking her to list grievances about Homer.  He probably does blow his nose on towels and put them back in the cupboard, too, but only in other people’s houses :P 

Anyway that’s off the top of my head.

[gophergal]

😳😳 I promise it wasn't meant to be this long I PROMISSSEEE

Anyways here you go for the fic written with a random character of my choice <3

———

Gopher giggled as they reblogged the post. 

'Reblog if you dare someone to write a fic about you and a character of their choosing...'

It was sort of silly, but the idea of being inside of a fic seemed pretty entertaining. They also knew some damn good writers and knew they would come up with something good. All they had to do now was... sit and wait.

Gopher could be patient, but eventually they had their limits. An hour passed by and, after refreshing their activity page about a thousand times, they decided that they would rather waste their time on something more important than just prowling around on Tumblr. 

...and that something important was sketching Michael again. They pulled out their tablet and pencil, set up their computer, and got to work. They drew until their eyes burned from the blue light illuminating off their screen. A yawn caught in the back of their throat and just then they finally took the opportunity to glance at the clock in the corner of their screen. 

1:28 AM

Damn, they hadn't even realized they had been drawing for that long. No wonder they felt so tired... They glanced back at their drawing and worried at their lip as they considered their options. Head to bed— or continue. Though the prospect of passing out on their nice warm bed sounded amazing, there were a few more details they had yet to fill in. Their hand made the decision for them, moving forwards and penning at the dark tablet sensors. 

Their eyes felt heavy, lids staying shut every time they blinked. 

Just... one more... line...

They tried to encourage themself, but their mind was slipping already. Before they knew it, they had passed out on top of their tablet, face pressed against the cool screen.

"Excuse me... sir—" They were awoken by a voice calling out to them, one they didn't particularly recognize. Their eyes slowly opened and they squinted as they were blinded by bright hues of red and gold. "Ah, you're finally awake."

Their brows furrowed and a hand came up to lazily rub at their eyes. After the sleep had been rubbed out of them, they finally opened their eyes and took in their surroundings. They soon came to the realization that they weren't on their couch anymore. 

They were sat in a booth, covered in a deep velvet cloth that felt way too expensive for their tastes. Red was the main color of everything in the room. The booth seats, the carpet, even the walls followed the same crimson pattern. The only thing that wasn't red were the shiny gold prices put in place around the room to accent it, and the large golden chandelier that hung right in front of the stairs that lead to their seat. They were amazed, and confused.

Even more confused when they caught sight of the man who had been trying to wake them. A pale man, tall, and with a very nice trim tuxedo stood before them. He had long raven hair that was pulled back in a neat ponytail and handsome chiseled features. The thing that was the most concerning to them, though, was the eyepatch that seemed to be carefully placed over his left eye. 

His hand had been placed on their shoulder, and it appeared that he had been trying to shake them awake for a while. A polite smile came to his features. 

"Are ya alright? Ya've been passed out here for a while." They looked up at him with big doe eyes. They... they couldn't believe what they were seeing. They had to be dreaming. Right? There is no way they couldn't be dreaming. They were currently sat in front of a fictional character their friend Goro had been simping over for the past few months. There was no way this wasn't a dream!

"I... who are you?" They managed after a moment. The man pulled his hand away from their shoulder and instead smoothly moved into a curt bow. 

"Majima Goro. I'm the manager of the Grand." He answered. They sucked in a breath, now even more confused. They cursed themselves for not knowing more about the Yakuza series, would have made the situation a bit less awkward maybe. 

"What's... what's the Grand?" They muttered out their question, and Majima glanced up at them with a confused look.

"Ah... it's a cabaret club. You're... in it right now." He explained, furrowing his brows. 

"Oh... yeah." They pretended to understand. This definitely was a dream... but for some reason everything felt so real. They could feel the soft velvet against their skin as they sat up, they could smell the overhang of booze and nicotine in the air. It made their nose wrinkle with disgust. Plus, how could they appear in a building that existed within the game if they had never known about it. It... didn't make sense. 

"You're a foreigner, yeah?" Majima spoke again, "Did ya get drunk n' pass out in the booth? I don't remember ya being here last night." 

"I don't remember being here either. I actually don't know how I got here." They admitted, and he shot them a surprised look. 

"Well... as far as I'm concerned, customer is king. I don't mind ya bein' here as long as ya don't cause any problems." He finally said. Gopher nodded in agreement to the conditions. "Ya remember anything before ya got here?"

"Yeah... I was at my house drawing and then all of a sudden I was here."

"At your house?"

"Yeah. I live in America by the way." They assumed they must now be in Japan. Majima shot them a surprised look. 

"That... really is a long way away. And that's all ya remember?" Gopher nodded. Majima looked puzzled. Before he could give his two cents on how exactly they must have ended up here, he was interrupted by Gopher's stomach giving a loud groan of disapproval. 

"Ah— are ya hungry? I guess if ya came all the way from America ya would be hungry, right?" He looked just as confused as they felt, "Ya can order somethin' if you would like." 

"I would but I don't exactly have any money on me." Gopher admitted. 

"It's fine. It'll be on the house. Whaddya want?" He offered quickly. They paused for a moment at the question. 

"Whatever you have." He nodded at the request.

"I'll be back, then." He bowed again and headed down the stairs. It really was a beautiful building. It was strange to think that he managed it all. But that wasn't the subject at hand.

There had to be an explanation for this. It didn't feel like a dream at all. In fact, it felt quite real. Everything was nailed down to the last detail, almost as if it had been carefully written by someone on the other half of a screen... It was strange. It didn't make sense. 

"I wasn't sure what ya would like so I brought ya a fruit platter. Ya can pick and choose what ya like. We ain't exactly git sustainable food cause we ain't a restaurant y'know, but it'll do." He announced as he walked back up the steps, tray in hand. He placed the tray in front of them, and it held all types of fruit. Some they had never even seen before. They pick and chose their favorites and began to eat. 

"Thank you." They almost forgot to mutter. Majima just nodded. He stayed standing next to the table, almost awkwardly. Gopher finally realized after a few moments that the rest of the cabaret club was completely quiet other than them. 

"If it's a cabaret club, shouldn't there be more people here?"

"We were goin' to open, but then I spotted ya. I didn't want to open and leave ya stranded in here, thought it'd be best to check up on ya first." He admitted. Gopher was almost surprised by his politeness. 

"Well, thanks for that. And the food." Majima just nodded curtly. 

"Any ideas as to why ya ended up here?" He questioned. 

"Not exactly. Just... fell asleep and then I was here. It doesn't make much sense." Majima hummed thoughtfully for a moment and glanced up at the perfectly painted tan ceiling. After a few moment his eye moved back down to theirs. 

"Maybe ya should go back to sleep? If it brought ya here, it might also get ya outta here?" He offered his insight.

"True. But that seems too easy." He shrugged.

"You'll never know till ya try it." Gopher nodded along with agreement, setting the plate aside.

"True. I guess I could try it..." They yawned and spread their arms out across the table, laying their head in their hands. An overwhelming wave of tiredness suddenly crashed over them. It was almost as if Majima had casted a spell on them, forcing sleep to overtake their body. 

"Ya look sleepy already."

"Yeah..." They muttered, eyelids already fluttering shut.

"Well then don't let me disturb ya."

"Majima?" Gopher piped up, their voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"It was nice meeting you." A few moments of silence passed. Gopher was sure they must have fallen back asleep at that point and he had already vanished, but after a few moments his voice came in crisp and clear. 

"It was nice meeting ya too."

Gopher woke up in their room.

****

Bro, I love this. I will admit, the “Ah, you’re finally awake” made me stop and think, No no, this isnt a fucking skyrim meme in disguise is it, and thankfully it was something So Much Better! THANK YOUUUU GOROOOOO

[walkingshcdow-a]

All I Want For Christmas (Is You) : Drabble

Summary: Finnegan spends Christmas with his aunt and without Victor.  Ships: Finnegan/Victor Trevor @tinfoiltemplar

Snow glistened on the branches of the trees stretching across Edie’s property. Finnegan, tucked neatly into himself, alone in one of the castle’s libraries, glanced out at the silent, Scottish countryside. He hadn’t wanted to come home for the holidays. This year, like most years, he’d intended to stay in London for the holiday season. It was Charity Gala Season, Christmas party season… Usually, Finnegan glittered among London’s elite. FinneCorp’s Christmas party was tonight. Finnegan hadn’t missed a single one since he was eighteen. He couldn’t bear to go this time, though. He’d be alone - he was often alone - and Victor Trevor would be with Shanon. The holidays were a time for family, after all. Finnegan usually enjoyed trying to show up or show off his lover at galas. He enjoyed completing his outfit with a date who was accomplished or gorgeous or both and watching Victor watch him with someone else. It wasn’t so tempting when the tables were turned. And, of course the Trevors were invited to the FinneCorp gala. It would have looked strange not to invite them after a year’s worth of cat-and-mouse games in ballrooms and board rooms, tennis courts and country clubs. Maybe Finnegan was a coward for not wanting to be reminded that his favorite plaything was a married man, with obligations more important than Finnegan could ever be. Maybe he was a coward for only getting as far as Scotland when he tried to run away. He could have set out across the world with a dozen lingerie models and sent Victor the pictures. Instead, he was here. He was home. The closest thing to a “home” he thought of when everyone else in the world was talking about “going home for the holidays”. Edie received him well enough when he called two weeks ago to invite himself. 

“I’m not dying yet, you know,” she said coyly. 

“You’d better not be,” Finnegan said back, tone just as teasing. “I don’t have time to take your seat in Parliament. Big things are happening at FinneCorp just now. I’d hate to give it up.”

“But you won’t go to your own company’s Christmas party?”

“I’m reevaluating my priorities, Edith.”

“Michael Finnegan, if you tell me you’re dying, I’m driving to London to kill you myself.”

“I’ll be there on the twenty-second,” Finnegan said. “I won’t inconvenience you for more than a few days.”

“Stay through New Year’s,” Edie said. “Or is it only your own Christmas party you’re avoiding?”

Finnegan had forgotten what it was like to be seen by someone who didn’t keep you a dirty secret. He’d forgotten what it felt like to feel good in another person’s company without realizing that the feeling wouldn’t last past morning. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be able to take someone’s love for granted. 

He stared at his phone. Right now, Victor was probably getting ready for a gala - his? - while that wife of his shrilled at him about not embarrassing her. Would Victor look for him at the gala? Worry and wonder when Finnegan wasn’t there? He hoped so. He hoped Victor scanned the room and could only find the vacant places Finnegan ought to be. He hadn’t outright told Victor he wouldn’t be in attendance. A week ago, wrapped around Victor in his bed that was now too large for Finnegan alone, he pressed his lips to the nape of Victor’s neck. 

“I’ll miss this,” he said quietly. “During the holidays.”

Victor had rolled over in his sleep and snuggled small against Finnegan’s chest, mumbling something of his own - a question, maybe. If he wasn’t so canny, Finnegan would have asked Victor to run away with him. Instead, he carded his fingers through Victor’s wild curls and smiled grimly.

“Oh, our social schedules this year,” Finnegan said vaguely, thinking he answered the question. “We’ll have some catching up to do come January.”

January couldn’t come soon enough. 

After all, what was he meant to do? Bring his lover home to his aunt and the ancestral walls that had silently judged Finnegan with the same stoniness as most of the figures he remembered from his youth? How would he explain to Edie that he was willing to waste his time as Victor’s shame when he would have been anyone else’s pride? How would he say why he hadn’t yet devoured Victor whole and spat back his bones? His teens and twenties were a graveyard of lovers who took second place to FinneCorp or his ego or a thousand other things. Edie had watched him then with exasperation and a little something like guilt. It wasn’t her fault Finnegan didn’t know what love was supposed to look like. Had his mother and father ever missed each other this miserably? Of course not. God, of course not - unfeeling creatures. They’d never watched sunrise crawl up a sleeping lover’s back; never subtly touched a lover’s wrist at a dinner party to say ‘I’m still here; I’m glad you’re here, too”. They’d never admired the grace and power of a lover whose backhand could send the tennis ball distressingly far or whispered secret commands into a cell phone the night before reuniting with your lover, things only the two of you would know. They’d never exchanged glances, redesigned their schedules, risked their reputation. Passionless. 

He envied them. They hadn’t even been able to get a passionless marriage right - both long dead before Finnegan’s thirtieth birthday, no golden anniversary. The dry pages of their love story provided kindling for their quick, burning funeral pyre, which lit the way for their only child to map the world. Finnegan knew his world well. He knew his place in it. He knew that his place was not to be cheaply tossed aside by the likes of Victor Trevor, not to be exposed for indiscretions that lesser men would have, not to die in disgrace. That was the ruinous road he trod now, so sure that even if the map spelled disaster that one thing was clear: Victor would not cast him aside. Finnegan could come and go as he pleased, as he did now, and Victor would remain stubbornly loyal, maybe more afraid of being alone than he was in love with Finnegan. After all, as Finnegan well knew: those who loved him were a rare and dying breed. Edith crossed his mind again. She would pity him because she loved him and she’d tell him to wash his hands of the whole thing because she loved him. He envied her. How much simpler it was to wash your hands of love than to be covered in it. Finnegan wanted to scrub and scrub the feeling away so he could forget, at least until after New Year’s that he was in love. Instead, he felt Victor’s fingerprints smudging him still, a week after they last touched. It didn’t feel dirty. It felt like someone re-molding him, fashioning him into something new. For so many years he’d been sharp, a weapon. What would it be like if he let Victor make him into art?

Good God, he wasn’t even drunk. He was simply sitting in the upstairs library, smiling at his phone as he silently begged it to buzz. Not work. No, his work phone was plugged in by the bed, charging. This phone, his personal phone, rarely saw the light of day. Since he’d arrived, however, he’d waited and waited for it to show a sign of life. He tried to be discreet, pretend that he was answering emails, but the crestfallen disappointment that sank his whole bulk into the corner of the couch ricocheted off of him, drawing the eye with a flash of light and then its sudden absence. Why wasn’t Victor texting him? Finnegan sighed and cast his eyes out the window once more. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already regretting staying home from the party,” Edie said from the doorway.

Finnegan didn’t jump, but he certainly hadn’t noticed his aunt enter. Her sharp, pale features complemented her dry wit, much the way a fluted glass complemented white wine. Putting the phone on his lap, he looked at her, composing his own features into a Sauvignon Blanc. 

“I’m sure the party is suffering far more in my absence than I am,” he said. “What’s in those mugs?”

“Mulled cider,” she said, crossing the room. “Not as romantic as a champagne toast, but…”

“I’m not married to my job,” Finnegan said, pointedly avoiding the point. “I can’t imagine what would be romantic about any champagne toast I might give FinneCorp this year.”

Edie arched an eyebrow and joined him on the couch carefully, handing him one of the mugs. Finnegan wrapped his hands around it for warmth. Even though a fire blazed in the fireplace, the castle was old and drafty. No dignified amount of jumpers ever seemed to make this part of the castle warm enough. 

“What’s really wrong, Finn?” she asked. 

“Nothing.”

“Usually at this point in the evening, you’re texting me for second opinions on identical bowties,” she said. “Tonight, you’re sulking in the coldest part of the house.”

“It isn’t the coldest part,” Finnegan said. “I’m sure if I want to freeze to death, I could spend the night in the stables.”

“How dare you,” said Edie. She took great pride in her racing horses and the quality of care they received, but Finnegan didn’t expect her to sound so insulted. She glowered at him over the top of her mug. “I know you better than just about anyone. This is sulking.” 

“I’m just enjoying the quiet,” Finnegan lied. “It’s nice to put my work phone on silent.”

“So who are you waiting to call you?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“No one.”

“Then why have you been gazing wistfully at your phone since you got here?”

“I’m not gazing wistfully at my phone-”

“Michael Finnegan, I know I raised a better liar than that,” Edith said. She lowered her mug. “Try that again: who are you waiting to hear from?”

Finnegan paused.

“A business partner,” he said hollowly, “who I’m planning a new venture with.”

“Mhmm.”

“It felt disloyal to discuss it at the FinneCorp gala,” he continued. “And I hoped he was as enthusiastic about the prospect of going into business together as I am - was. I know I’m probably dodging a bullet, of course.”

“Of course.”

“He’d be a fool to let such a golden opportunity walk out his door. I don’t consider side ventures with just anyone. I won’t make that mistake again any time soon.”

“Of course not, darling,” said Edith. “How long have you been sleeping with him?”

Finnegan scowled and looked at his phone again. 

“I don’t know why you’re keeping it a secret,” said Edith. She shrugged and took a sip of her cider. “You could have brought him with you.”

“Things aren’t that serious,” said Finnegan. “Are they ever?”

“Darling, you referred to yourself as a business venture,” she said primly, in that pointed way she had long ago taught him meant that what you didn’t say was everything: I know how you feel about business ventures. “It’s a big enough castle, don’t you think?”

“He has other plans,” Finnegan said. 

Finnegan and Edith exchanged looks. 

“Does he know you wanted to see him?”

“If he knew that, then he’d have the upper hand,” said Finnegan. “He knows that I’ll be glad to see him in January.”

“That’s a long time,” said Edith. “I won’t judge you if you invite him here for New Year’s. It might be nice to see you smile instead of gazing longingly out windows.”

“He won’t,” Finnegan said. 

“You’ve finally found someone who can tell you ‘no’ and now you’re refusing to let me meet them?” Edith asked. “I’m hurt.”

“He can’t tell me ‘no’,” Finnegan said. “That’s the problem, which is precisely why I didn’t invite him.”

“You aren’t giving your HR department headaches because of a scientist or a secretary, are you?”

“No. I’m not twenty-five anymore.” 

I’ve moved on to bigger and better scandals, he thought miserably, taking a swig of his cider. It warmed him inside-out and he realized that he would be very sad and cold when he drank it all. 

“No, you aren’t,” Edith said. “Which is why it baffles me that you’d be willing to waste time the way you are now. If I was your age and I had a handsome young man in London-”

“I never said he was handsome.”

“Finnegan.”

Finnegan nestled back into the couch. He checked his phone once more before staring into the fire. The flames twisted and danced with much more merriment than he could muster. 

“Are you two fighting?” Edith asked, voice softer, less poised to make fun of him or roast him. Finnegan lifted his gaze to his aunt and shrugged. “Call him.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Finnegan. “We aren’t fighting.”

“Then why haven’t you called him?” Edie asked. “I bet he’s doing the same thing with his phone, hoping to hear from you first.”

Finnegan could imagine it. Victor, drinking and staring at the phone deep into the night. Victor, sitting for family Christmas photos and checking his cell phone. Victor, tonight, at the gala, hoping to at least see him and getting drunk when he realized Finnegan wasn’t coming. Finnegan took a sip of his cider. Then another. 

“I hope he has a miserable Christmas.”

“Michael!” 

Nominally, they were Church of England; neither side of Finnegan’s family had ever been religious. You still would have thought he’d told his aunt that he wanted to punch the pope square in the jaw a few times. 

“I do,” Finnegan said. “It’s what he deserves.”

“Because he had plans with his own family for the holidays?”

“Precisely.” Finnegan said. “He had plans with his own family for the holidays.”

“Finn...”

As the pieces came together for Edith, Finnegan feared the worst. He feared her pity, her horror. He feared she would think he was still a child and that he didn’t understand the enormity of the situation, how colossally he’d ruined his own life, their legacy, everything. Instead of tucking into the couch tighter, though, Finnegan maintained his aunt’s gaze levelly. He refused to be ashamed. Refused. He already lived like a fugitive in the city he owned because of the affair. He refused to be shamed here. This was to be his castle someday. Surely his ancestors had worse secrets buried on these grounds. Surely Edie had heard worse - from his own mother, perhaps…

“Goddamn it, Michael.” she said, leaning back. “Tell me this is one of your boyfriends from Eton… someone you knew before…”

“No.”

“So he was married when you met?” Edie asked. Finnegan said nothing. “Does he have children?”

“Not yet, thank god. I’m sure his family will apply pressure soon enough.”

“Do we know his family?” Edith asked. 

Finnegan shrugged. The Trevors were of middling importance. Millionaires, not billionaires. Nouveau-riche, relatively speaking. He set his mug down and searched his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. 

Edie’s brow creased. 

“Is he someone important?” she asked. 

“That depends on your definition of ‘important’.”

“So he is.”

“He’s not that important,” Finnegan said. “Not to me, not really. I could discard him if it suited me.”

“It doesn’t suit you to discard a married man?” The ridges scripting themselves into Edies’ forehead deepened. “But he’s not important?”

“I’m still enjoying him,” Finnegan said. “When I tire of him, that’ll be the end of it.”

“Oh, Finnegan.” She sighed his name so pityingly that Finnegan choked on a lungful of smoke. Coughing, he looked at his aunt through the bluish haze. Her hand, adorned with jewels Victor’s family might have mined and sold, rested on Finnegan’s knee. He studied the sharp cut of the diamonds as they glittered in the firelight. It was easier to focus on the small details of ancient family jewels than the diamond-sharp pain in his chest. He tried to breathe it out. His eyes stung. “If he was just a plaything, you would be at that party tonight. It isn’t charming for you to delude yourself - you’re the only one here you’re fooling.”

“Yes, well, so long as I delude social London, too, I’m the only one who can get hurt by it,” Finnegan snapped. He pried his aunt’s hand from his knee. “I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

“I don’t know if I feel sorrier for you or for him. You aren't the only one who could get hurt, Finn. He’ll look for you at Christmas galas all throughout the holiday season. God only knows why, if you’re as warm towards your lovers as you are towards your family.”

Finnegan glowered. 

“I’ll see him in January,” he said. “He’ll wait for me.”

Edie said nothing, strategically retreating into her mug of cider. Wielded by her, silence was a weapon. Finnegan could feel the crushing hit of her judgement without words to soften the blow. 

“He will,” Finnegan insisted. “I’m worth waiting for.”

“You’re worth so much more than that,” Edie said softly. In her hands, softness, too, was a weapon. Finnegan grimaced into another drag from his cigarette. “You deserve a lover who can give you their all, no hesitation.” 

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Clearly,” said Edie. “If you knew it, you wouldn’t waste a minute more on the heartbreak of a married lover.” 

“I’m not heartbroken,” Finnegan said. “And it isn’t a waste. It… builds character.”

Edie laughed sadly, so sadly Finnegan drew tighter into himself for warmth. 

“Oh, Finn,” she murmured. “No one who knows you would ever think you were devoid of character.”

She rose from the couch and drained the rest of her cider.

“I’m going downstairs,” she said. “I kicked the chef out for the night and I’m going to bake Christmas cookies. I’d like my sous chef at my side, like when you were little.”

Finnegan groaned. Neither he nor Edie were talented bakers. He was very good at fetching ingredients from the pantry and little else. He mostly perched atop the counter and watched as Edie overmixed the dough. Their cookies were always a little tough. Every now and then, one had a gooey center, but many more had burnt edges. The frosting was always too thick or too thin and Finnegan usually lacked the patience to frost cookies when they’d sufficiently cooled. As a child, he’d watched frosting melt and run down the sides of his cookies and wondered why his cookies looked nothing like the ones Edie’s personal chef made for them. 

“I’m in no mood for disappointing family traditions,” he said. He took another drag from the cigarette and smoke billowed from his nose. 

“I’m afraid that’s what you signed up for when you chose to come home for the holidays.” 

Finnegan heaved himself to his feet and tossed his cigarette into the fireplace. 

“Do I have to leave my phone upstairs?”

“You can bring it on one condition,” said Edie. “Either you text him a ‘merry Christmas’ or you delete his number from your phone. Come downstairs once you’ve done one or the other.”

She walked from the library to the hall and Finnegan listened to her descend the stairs. Then, picking up his phone, he typed two words to Victor Trevor. 

Merry Christmas, he typed.

Maybe I won’t give you up for my New Year’s resolution after all, he wanted to say.

I miss you, he thought. It aches. 

And then, silently, he slipped his phone into his pocket and followed Edie’s path downstairs. 

[whatsyourdamage-veronica]

When The World Ends, What Comes Next?

He’s like fire, Veronica thinks, at some point in their relationship-after Chandler, after they’ve killed the queen bee of Westerburg High (and possibly the entire town of Sherwood), but not by much. She pushes the thoughts of what they’ve done out of her mind, and smiles as she thinks of the way he warms her from the inside out. 

She doesn’t think, then, that he could burn her. She knows playing with fire ends up in burns, but she thinks they’re different. They smolder slowly, she thinks, a fire to last a lifetime. Not the kind of fire that destroys, the kind of fire that warms.

They’re on her bed, her parents asleep across the hallway, tangled up in each other and just enjoying each other’s company. JD’s lips are against her skin, her lips and shoulder and collarbone, and every time he presses a gentle kiss where he’s murmuring words of love and admiration, Veronica feels like he’s touching her with a live wire. It makes her stomach swoop in the best way, and she thinks she’d give almost anything to just stay like this forever. 

She’ll think back on that and realize that even then, maybe she should have seen that their relationship was like a firework; burning brilliantly across the sky before it exploded and disappeared. 

~~

In the short weeks before Heather and Heather lure Veronica to the graveyard in the middle of the night, she spends almost all her free time with him, and she feels like she couldn’t be happier.

Heather Duke has tried to take over the role Heather Chandler used to fill, and Veronica can’t deny the pang of guilt and sorrow she feels when she walks into the lunchroom and sees green and yellow, but no red. Duke hasn’t quite dared to reclaim the color yet. 

She starts skipping lunch, instead finding hidden corners of empty classrooms or the school gym or even the library, on slower days, and spends her lunch break with JD. Sometimes they talk, but most of the time she doesn’t get a word in before his lips are on hers, and she melts into his kiss, forgetting everything she had to say. She’s learned how to bite her lip to keep the gasps and moans hidden as his mouth and his hands roam her body, learned how and where to touch him to make him speed up, make him claim her even more thoroughly. She’s lost count of the times she’s had to pull her blazer up just enough to hide the hickeys he leaves, but he’s always careful not to leave them on her neck, just her collarbones and decolletage. 

She tells her mother she’s joined a book club that meets after school and she’ll be coming home late after school. Her mother smiles and tells her that’s great, she’s glad to see Veronica getting out and about again, she’d been so withdrawn after poor Heather’s suicide. Veronica doesn’t know what to say, so she just bites the inside of her cheek and nods an agreement. 

It’s not entirely a lie, she thinks as she lays with her head on JD’s lap in the park, under a tree, dappled sunlight highlighting his hair and cheekbones and lips as he reads from his old, worn copy of Baudelaire’s poems. Most days, she gets tired of it after two or three poems, and she pushes the book aside as she climbs into his lap and loses herself in his touch again. Some days, she’s content just to listen to his voice. 

Sometimes she looks at him and marvels that he can love her so much and so completely. He’s not exactly the type she would have thought would be romantic and sweet, but he tells her he’d do anything for her, he whispers his love for her against her lips and across her body and between her legs, and she revels in it. She revels in the fact that she’s the one to bring the Baudelaire-quoting badass to his knees if she asks him, that she’s the one he’s chosen to adore. She’s special; out of all the women he’s met, he tells her, he hasn't loved any until her, and she loves that. She loves him. 

In hindsight, she realizes that wasn’t healthy. She realizes she shouldn’t have let him make her his entire world. It’s his fault for planning to murder two people in cold blood (she still counts Chandler as an accident, because she can’t quite bring herself to acknowledge that he knew, after what she’d said, that the drain cleaner would kill her) and planning to blow up a school, but it’s her fault too, for not walking away from him the first time he put her up on the pedestal she’d so enjoyed at first. 

It’s addictive, she thinks, to be worshiped. To be treated like a goddess, an angel, a queen. And she was barely seventeen. She didn’t know better. 

It doesn’t really help ease the guilt.

~~

Veronica isn’t stupid. 

Her grades are near perfect. She aces her tests. She’s smart, her IQ is high, she’s the model student. 

She knew all along that there was no such thing as tranquilizer bullets. She knew, she knows, and she chose to ignore it. Chose to believe the man who said he worshiped her, who promised with what she now sees was a sickly sweet smile that he’d make her problems go away. That Kurt and Ram would never hurt her again. She chose to think it’s because they’d be too humiliated to mess with her. 

Sometimes she wonders in the dead of night, when she wakes from nightmares of red scrunchies and white briefs and black trenchcoats, if she’d really wanted to kill them. She must have, she reasons, because otherwise she would have said no, would have insisted on another way. 

She knows she can’t chalk it all up to the half truths and twisted lies JD managed to plant in her mind, can’t blame it all on him. She’s guilty too, she’s got the blood of four people on her hands, and she’ll never be clean of that. 

She knows she couldn’t have saved him. She knows he was the perfect storm, ready to implode. Knows the day his mother died, a part of him died too, a part of him he’d never be able to get back.

She knows losing that part of him had irreparably damaged him. That part of him could never be filled with anything else, no matter how much she’d loved him. Maybe at one point, that wasn’t true, but he was too far gone by the time she’d met him. 

Love doesn’t fix things, she knows. But on the days she can’t get out of bed, the days she just cries or stares at the wall, the days her mother casts her worried glances as she brings food Veronica doesn’t touch, she wishes with everything she has, everything she is, that it could. She wishes he was here, wishes she had known how to fix him, wishes she could go back and stop his mother from walking into that building. 

Sometimes, in her dreams, he’s there. They’re back in the park, his lips forming the words of a poem she can’t quite hear. She always interrupts, always tells him she loves him, always tells him how much she wishes she could have saved him, how much she wishes she could have been enough.

He frowns at her, a beautiful figment of her imagination, and tells her he loves her too, but what does she mean? He’s not gone. He’s right here. And she’s always enough. 

She always wakes from those dreams with tears on her face. 

~~

She thinks about the scene in the boiler room a lot. It’s almost constantly on her mind the first few weeks after his death.

She remembers the way she’d looked into his eyes and realized the boy she’d loved, the boy who held her close after her nightmares had started, the boy who kissed her sweet and slow and read her French poems, was gone. He’d snapped, lost his mind, finally been driven to a final act of desperation in the war his life had become. It doesn’t make anything okay, doesn’t disarm the bomb or unpoison Heather Chandler or unshoot Kurt and Ram or unwrite the suicide notes, but Veronica pleads with him anyway. Even as he points his gun at her head, even as she has to focus on her breathing in order to keep herself calm and not break into sobs, she asks him to come with her, to disable the bomb, to just forget it all and choose her again. 

She feels her heart break all over again every time she remembers the fierce snarl on his face, the way he’d ignored her stretched out hand, the way he’d cocked the gun, his finger on the trigger. She feels her stomach twist as she remembers the way she’d stared down the barrel of the gun and thought she might die, right then and there, and then the school would go up in flames. 

She remembers all too vividly her hands on his, their bodies intertwined again in a very different dance, the way she’d desperately wished she could just get the gun from him and maybe then he’d see sense, maybe then he’d come back. She remembers the way her heart had stopped when she felt the gun kick and heard it fire, remembers the way it had kicked into overdrive as she’d pressed her hands to her own stomach, expecting to feel blood, remembers tasting copper and fear on her tongue as he gazed at her in shock for a long second before he fell. 

She tries not to remember the way he’d caressed her face on the football field, the way she’d flinched away from his touch as she felt his bloody hand leave a red print on her cheek, the way his eyes had been so, so sad as he’d stumbled backwards with the bomb (a Norwegian, she remembers it being called, on that sick, dark day she’d had no choice but to break up with the boy she’d thought would be the love of her life) clutched to his chest. 

She can’t help but remember the way her heart dropped and her stomach swooped sickeningly as he smiled at her for the last time. Her love, her JD, her sweet, too-broken boy, bloodied and bruised and broken on the outside now like he’d been on the inside for as long as she’d known him. He smiled at her, and she felt a sob wrench itself from her chest. 

By the time she’d realized she wanted to die with him, by the time she’d made up her mind that if he deserves to die then so does she, the countdown is too short for her to reach him before the bomb explodes. 

~~

Life goes on, because it has to, but Veronica can’t. 

She graduates high school but she doesn’t choose a college. She can’t. She knows she wouldn’t be able to focus, knows she’d fail her classes. She gets a job, moves into her own tiny apartment, drags herself through day after repetitive day. 

After work, as she sits at her table and picks at the food she’d barely had the energy to make, she sees the ones she’d killed. Heather, still in her red floral silk robe, tongue blue and hair gathered in her red scrunchie, seems to realize that Veronica will break if she’s pushed too far, and mostly stays quiet. She just sits across the table, eyeing Veronica resentfully as Veronica tries her hardest to ignore her. 

Kurt and Ram aren’t quite so considerate, but they were far less close to Veronica when they were alive, so she finds it easier to ignore them. And though they antagonize her, even they know better than to needle her about JD, because if she ceases to exist, they might too, and she thinks they enjoy her pain too much to risk it. 

She doesn’t see JD at all. She doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. She misses him desperately, but the other three bear the marks of how they died, and she doesn’t want to see JD’s form if it’s broken and battered, singed and smoky. She doesn’t know what a person looks like after they’ve exploded, doesn’t want to know. 

She tells herself things will get better. Hopes with everything she has that they will. Doesn’t quite believe her own words.

Some days the only thing that keeps her going is the knowledge that wherever he is, if he’s anywhere, JD wouldn’t want her to die. She remembers the brokenness of his voice as he fell to his knees in front of what he thought was her dead body, remembers the tears in his voice even if she didn’t see the tears in his eyes, the way she knew he’d thought she left him just like everyone else. She thinks she has to make up for that somehow. She doesn’t owe him anything, she knows, but she wants to do everything she can to clean the slate, to make up for the hurt she’s caused.

She can’t not go on. She has to at least try and do some good in the world. She just can’t, not yet, not until she’s sure she won’t crumble to pieces at any given moment.

She starts with a plan. She’s not going to go to an Ivy League school anymore. She was a completely different person when she made those plans. She finds a community college, in Columbus, one she can do mostly online classes for in the beginning, and slowly starts with taking a few credits at a time. It wears her out some days, but she pushes herself through.

And as she does, she feels her broken parts, her jagged edges, her shattered heart start to mend. It isn’t much. She still wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, still has days she can’t get out of bed, still has to pause sometimes to take deep breaths at work so she doesn’t cry. But those things get less frequent as she finds other things to focus on.

Heather and Kurt and Ram have faded away, disappearing slowly as she learned how to move on and cope with the things she’s done and the losses she’s suffered. Even on the days she’s alone and broken and wishing for company, she doesn’t miss them at all.

She doesn’t declare a major for a long time. It takes her years to admit to herself what she’s known she wants to do from the second she realized how bad JD’s home life was, since she’d seen what it had done to him. But the day she turns in her papers declaring her intent to become a social worker and a counselor, she feels a huge weight lift off her chest.

~~

That night, she has a dream she hasn’t had in a long time. Her head is on JD’s lap again, his fingers idly stroking through her hair as he recites a poem from memory. She can’t quite hear him, but she knows the poem is one of love and adoration, just like they used to be. 

She starts to sit up, starts to apologize, starts to tell him she loves him just like she always does, but this dream breaks from the way her dreams usually go. He smiles down at her, fingers still tangled in her hair, and her breath catches in her chest as she sees the boy she’d loved in his eyes, the boy she could have happily spent a lifetime with, the boy whose love for her wouldn’t be obsessive or all-consuming or unhealthy.

He leans down and kisses her forehead, murmuring words of thanks and love and apology. She feels tears welling up, reaches up to caress his cheek, taking a shuddering breath at how warm and solid and real his skin feels under her fingers. 

“Veronica,” he says quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to her hairline, “thank you.”

“Thank you for what?” she replies, sitting up straight to look him in the eyes. “I killed you.”

He smiles softly at her, shaking his head. 

“You didn’t,” he says. “That was all me. I pushed you and pushed you until you didn’t have a choice. And I’m sorry for that. But you...you tried to save me. Even after everything I’d done. Even though I hurt you, over and over, you didn’t hate me.”

“I could never,” she chokes out, feeling her heart break all over again. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” he replies, cupping her cheek. She closes her eyes and nestles into his palm. It feels so real, and if it’s a dream, she doesn’t want to wake up. “I know, Veronica. And I love you too. And I know what you’re doing, what you’re becoming, and it means so much to me.”

She loses the battle, feels tears begin to fall, and he gives her the saddest smile she’s ever seen him wear.

“JD, I can’t-”

“Shh,” he interrupts. “You can. You have, and you are, and you will. I’m gone. I know you know that. I can’t undo that. Neither can you. So the only way to go is forward. You’re doing that, you know. Every day. But Ronnie...you have to let me go.”

“No,” she whimpers, tries to reach out to hold him, but he grabs her wrists and holds her hands together in front of her.

“Yes,” he says calmly. “Veronica, I loved you as much as I could. But we both know it wouldn’t have worked, in the end. You couldn’t have fixed me. You couldn’t have saved me, no matter how hard you tried. It’s time to stop beating yourself up about it. I don’t know if you even realize it, but you’re dragging me around, keeping the memory of me too close, and you have to let go.”

She breaks down, harsh sobs filling the peaceful air, and he reaches out to pull her close. She buries her face in his chest and cries, mourning all the things she’d refused to acknowledge for years. The nights together they’ll never have, the rings they’ll never wear, the children who will never run around and play in the yard and make a mess of the house. 

After a while, when her tears have subsided and her breath has calmed, as she listens to the steady pounding of his heart, he nestles his chin on the top of her head and sighs.

“I know you don’t want to,” he says softly. “I know it hurts. I don’t want you to either. But we both know it’s what you need to do. Veronica, if there’s an afterlife past this, I promise I’ll be right here to go there with you.”

She nods, cheek still pressed against his chest for a moment before he moves a gentle hand under her chin and pulls her up to look him in the eyes again.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much. Live a good life, Veronica Sawyer. I know you will. You’ll make a difference in this world, and even if it’s only for individual people, it will mean so much. And when it’s all over, just imagine me, and I’ll be there.”

“I love you too,” she says, pressing her forehead to his. “I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll miss you so much.”

He leans forward and presses his lips gently to hers. She kisses him back, soft and slow, with tears in her eyes again.

She wakes with tears on her cheeks, alone in her bed, and lets herself cry. She knows that with the morning sun, she’ll take a deep breath and let him go, like taking off a heavy coat she’s been wearing for far too long.

But just for tonight, she’ll finish letting herself mourn.

~~~

The years pass quickly. Veronica Sawyer graduates at the top of her class, gets her masters in social work, and immediately begins working in Texas. She knows the reason she chose that state, she acknowledges it, and then she lets it go and moves on with the work she’s chosen.

She sees things she wishes she hadn’t. Terrible things, terrible people, terrified children. And she fights her hardest to save every single one she can. If she can save even one child from ending up like JD, she thinks, she’ll consider it a success.

She becomes the most beloved social worker in most of the state. She’s called in for the most desperate cases, the children who are broken and exhausted and won’t talk to or work with anyone else. She knows she might not be able to save them. She knows she won’t ever be able to completely heal someone, that feeling pain and loss and terror leaves a scar. She’s got scars too, and she didn’t go through anything even close to what these children have. 

She might not ever understand. She knows that. She sees JD in their eyes; broken, bruised, battered. She knows that they need help, they need love, they need things she can’t give them. But she tries her best to help them see that life isn’t a battle, that they don’t have to live in a war zone. She goes to court and fights tooth and nail, she goes to the homes of prospective foster parents and makes sure everything is how it’s supposed to be, and she makes sure the children she helps know that she’s there for them no matter what.

She eventually does get married, but she never gives birth to children of her own. She adopts two, not children she works with but the most troubled cases from other places, ones that everyone says they can’t handle. She does her best to parent them from a place of love, even when it’s hard. She thinks they turn out all right; one of her children becomes a lawyer, one becomes an artist, and she thinks she couldn’t love either of them more. She becomes a grandmother a little late in life, but she finds she doesn’t mind. 

Her spouse passes first, in a tragic car accident. She’s crushed, and spends weeks trying not to fall into the same depression she did after high school. This time, though, she has children and grandchildren to help, and help they do. 

~~

Eventually, she gets sick. Pneumonia, the doctors say as she lays in a hospital bed for days at a time. There are days she can barely breathe on her own. Complication after complication keeps throwing wrenches into her healing process.

On her worst days, she sees a shadow at the edge of her vision. She knows who it is, and she knows it’s not time yet. 

She thinks it’s terribly ironic that he’ll end up being her angel of death. 

The day comes, weeks later, when she knows she can’t fight it anymore. They send her home on hospice, and she feels nothing but relief. 

Her children and grandchildren gather around. She tells them all how very much she loves them, and how much good they’re doing in the world. How much good they still have yet to do. She holds their hands and whispers words of love and praise and goodbye.

In the early morning hours, she feels her heart falter, and she knows it’s time. She closes her eyes and imagines JD in front of her, as perfect and young as the day they met. He appears slowly, sunlight in his hair, and she stands carefully, smiling at him. 

“Hello, Veronica,” he says with a smile. She takes a step towards him, and behind her, her bed fades away, replaced with the perfect green field she used to see in her dreams. 

She doesn’t say anything, just launches herself into his arms, tears in her eyes as he catches her and cradles her close. 

“Oh, I missed you, my love,” she whispers, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I missed you too,” he says. “Oh, Veronica, you are...amazing. I’m so proud of you. Everything you did, everything you were.”

She pulls back to kiss him, sees her hand on his face, and stops in wonder. It’s smooth, free of the wrinkles and lines she’d gathered throughout her lifetime. She moves one hand to touch her face, finding the same thing. She’s young again, she realizes, and lets out a happy laugh.

“I’m staying this time,” she breathes, and he beams at her. She doesn’t let him answer before she’s grabbing his face and kissing him hard, pouring all the love and longing from the years into the kiss. He pulls her close as he returns her kiss with the same fervor.

When she pulls away, he chuckles and takes her hand.

“You’re staying,” he echoes, twining his fingers with hers. “C’mon, should we figure out what’s on the other side of this field?”

She laughs, moving her hand to loop her arm through his and resting her head against his arm as they begin to walk.

“With you,” she says, “I’d go anywhere.”

[jovialyouthmusic]

Past Times

A Regency Period Romance

Okay, so this really has nothing to do with TRR any more apart from some names and maybe that it’s all going in in either Bastien or Sophia’s imagination, but if you’re interested, here is the next chapter. Elizabeth has to convince her father that Duncan is not a suitable match

Word Count 3653

A/N This will eventually get smutty, but for now - no warnings.

1 Breaking Off

When the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Elizabeth feigned surprise at seeing Captain Lykel holding the book he had selected from the library and had used it as an excuse to converse with him. She rebuffed any attempts by Duncan to engage her, inwardly boiling with rage at the memory of how he had revealed what he truly thought of women.

‘Captain Lykel, you must have visited some exotic places with the Navy.’ her mother enquired, seeing that he was spending a little too much time alone with her daughter.

‘Indeed I have, Lady Charlotte, though I fear seafaring is becoming much more dangerous with French privateers becoming bolder. They would not dare to venture close to our fair capital though, you may have no fear of that.’

‘I would love to hear of your travels.’ Elizabeth interjected. ‘I have a particular interest in far off places.’ Her father cleared his throat.

‘I fear the hour is late.’ he announced. ‘Pleasant as it has been to entertain you all, the time has come for my family to retire. Gentlemen, Walker has your coats ready against the chill of the evening air. I hope to see you all again in the near future.’ His manservant, who doubled as butler, nodded from the door of the drawing room, and the gathering dispersed. Elizabeth’s mother drew her aside.

‘What ails you, Lizzy? You were very cool toward poor Duncan.’ she chided her. ‘and you paid far too much attention to the Captain.’ Elizabeth swallowed. She feared to tell her mother she had been unchaperoned when she overheard her fiancé talking so crudely, or reveal she had briefly been alone with the Captain. But she hated to tell a falsehood, and she didn’t wish to continue with her courtship, so she must tell her something. Omission was far less a sin than lying, she decided.

‘Oh mother, what will you think of me?’ she said, casting her gaze to the floor. ‘I hid myself behind the curtains in the library to surprise Duncan.’

‘Lizzy, that was most improper! You said you had gone to retrieve your handkerchief.’ Her mother was disappointed, she could tell. ‘You should have sent Jane to fetch it’

‘I’m so sorry Mama. I promise you I did not reveal myself to him or his friends’ This was not untrue, but she was not going to tell her of the Captain discovering her. But her mother was nothing if not observant.

‘So what occurred in the library? You were very cool toward Duncan.’

‘Oh mother’ she swallowed hard. ‘I overheard him talking of things that changed my opinion of him. Such impropriety – it was shocking.’

‘My dear girl’ her mother took her hand. ‘You must tell me instantly’

‘He spoke…’ her voice broke. ‘he spoke of visiting women of ill repute.’ Her mother’s face blanched.

‘Lizzy…’ she was shocked, and it was a while before she spoke again. ‘young men do such things, I am afraid. I am sure when you are married that will come to an end.’

‘But mother, that wasn’t all.’ she said quietly, gathering her courage. ‘He spoke so of women, saying they are fit only for bearing children and managing the house. I fear he will not respect me or treat me as an equal.’

‘My poor girl.’  her mother shook her head. ‘For many women that is the case, but he is of good family and has an income that will support you well.’ Anger rose in the young woman’s breast.

‘I refuse to accept him as husband.’ she said defiantly. ‘I will tell Father so in the morning’

‘Lizzy!’ her mother cried, but one look at her daughter’s face and she knew she was determined. She sighed. A first refusal would not damage her daughter’s reputation very much and there were many other eligible young men in the city. That of course was the reason they had moved their household from their country estate. ‘Very well. I will talk to your father and warn him of your thoughts. But I cannot guarantee his opinion on the matter.’

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She had not revealed her brief encounter with the Captain, and hopefully her mother would smooth the way for her to break off her engagement.

‘Thank you mother.’ she breathed ‘I feel most earnestly on the matter.’

‘We shall see what tomorrow brings.’ Lady Charlotte said. ‘Now go to bed, your complexion will benefit from rest. Goodnight, daughter.’

------

Elizabeth rose the day after the dinner party, and the maid, Jane, helped her to dress for breakfast. Later that afternoon she was to go to her dancing lesson, and Walker would accompany her, walking if the weather was fair, which it seemed set to be. Although she found lessons tedious, the opportunity to get out into the fresh air was pleasing, and she always made sure she was ready in good time so they did not have to rush.

But for now, she needed to speak to her father. She had breakfast with her mother and sister – Sir James was in the library going over some figures, so Jane was despatched to enquire whether he was ready to receive her. She didn’t have to wait long before she was called.

Sher father’s face was grave when she entered, curtseying as was appropriate now that she was of marriageable age. Gone were the days of running into her papa’s arms for a warm embrace. Such shows of affection were only for children, and now the most she might expect was a fond look, warm praise or a touch on the arm or waist.

‘What’s this I hear, Lizzy? Your mother tells me you reject young Duncan’s suit.’ he said sternly ‘not only that, but I gather you engineered to be alone with him beforehand.’

‘I am sorry Father’. she said, hanging her head ‘I am not proud of myself, but rest assured we were not alone for a single second. He never knew I was in the window seat, I was well concealed from him behind the curtains. I did not reveal myself, as he was accompanied by his friends.’ Her father’s frown lessened a little.

‘I hope your experience served as a lesson not to repeat your subterfuge.’ He scolded ‘You are kept safe within the house and chaperoned without for good reason. As an unmarried young woman your reputation would suffer greatly were you to be alone with any young man, single or no.’

‘I am truly sorry Father.’ she repeated ‘But what I overheard Duncan saying to his friends has convinced me that I could not spend the rest of my life with him.’ Again he frowned, and anger showed in his visage. She shook with fear at his ire and tears sprang to her eyes.

‘Your mother has told me of the impropriety of his words and I am shocked to hear that you were subjected to such a thing. Duncan had seemed to be a good match, but money and reputation is not all.’ her father continued, but then his expression softened. ‘Come closer Lizzy, do not tremble, it is your fiancé I am angry with, not you.’ She moved closer, and he took her hand, looking up at her with fondness.

‘I see you are contrite.’ he said softly ‘and I would not have my Lizzy so upset. I will look further into your young man’s character. It is fortunate that your affairs are still at an early stage. It may still be possible to withdraw from your arrangement without damaging your reputation.’ She smiled, assured that all was not lost.

‘Thankyou so much father.’ she replied. ‘I know you wish for me to be well provided for. It is every young woman’s dream to be happy within their marriage, and I fear that would not be the case with Duncan.’

‘That may be so.’ He patted her hand ‘Now run along – do you not have a dancing lesson after luncheon? You will need to be light and sprightly on your feet if you seek another suitor.’

‘Indeed, father.’ He beckoned her to lean down, and he kissed her on the cheek.

‘Bless you, child. It seems only moments that I was holding you in my arms as a squalling babe. I can only do my best to keep you safe until you find a suitor willing to take you off my hands. I hope we can find someone more to your taste.’ With that, she turned and left the study, relieved that her father had been so receptive.

------

Sir James frowned as a serving man placed a glass of brandy on the side table beside his plush leather armchair. The front room of his club, Mackies, was a comfortable place to spend his afternoons in the company of other respectable gentlemen and nobles like himself. He preferred to drink and smoke in the wood panelled room while other men – usually younger than himself – frequented the back room in which gambling was rife. He himself did not care much for the pastime, as his town house was expensive to keep up, especially with a wife and two daughters to provide for. He recently had to sell some little used land from his country estate and he feared if he did not marry Elizabeth off soon, the dowry he hoped to provide her with would be small.

‘So, James.’ his drinking companion, Lord Beaumont, said. ‘you have doubts about the suitability of young Duncan Noble.’

‘I do.’ he replied. ‘I have heard that he frequents houses of ill repute, and it seems he is a little too fond of gambling.’ His companion scoffed.

‘What young man does not?’ he replied. ‘He will soon settle down when he is married. I’m sure you have naught to worry about regarding Elizabeth’

‘I am not certain of that’ he mused. ‘It is a matter of degree. I must discover more of his habits. I have asked my man, Walker, to make enquiries and discover where and how often he indulges his youthful behaviour.’

‘I suppose that is wise. You do not want to see your daughter’s inheritance squandered away, I am sure.’

‘Indeed’ He sipped his brandy. ‘It is telling that the young man in question does not frequent the gaming table in this establishment. I look forward to discovering where he indulges his habits.’

-------

On returning to his town house, Sir James was met at the door by Walker.

‘Good afternoon sir, I trust you had a pleasurable afternoon at your club.’

‘I did indeed. Pray tell me if you have made any progress in the matter we discussed this morning?’

‘I have, sir – I shall attend you in the library.’ Sir James handed him his great coat and hat, and went upstairs and waited for Walker to follow him.

‘Well man, spit it out, don’t keep me waiting.’ he snapped once the door was closed against eavesdroppers. Walker had accompanied young Elizabeth and her sister to their dancing lessons and had been busy gathering information before he went to collect them and bring them safely home.

‘The news is not good, Sir. I fear young master Duncan is a very frequent visitor at Mrs Reed’s establishment – and I am told he does not visit to give them charity, but partakes fully in the services provided by the young women there.’ Sir James sucked in his breath.

‘That is grave news, that house is not well regarded by gentlemen of repute. Did you discover anything of his gambling habits?’

‘Sadly, yes. The establishments he favours are also not the sort of place that respectable gentlemen frequent. They are very low and feature cock fighting and bear baiting, not cards and he is most profligate with his allowance.’ Sir James’s face darkened.

‘That is most unfortunate.’ He squared his jaw determinedly.  ‘I feel I have no choice but to reject his suit for Elizabeth’s hand. I will write a letter forthwith to his father to warn him to curb his son’s excesses, and he may be able to improve his behaviour for another young lady. But I will not have him marry my daughter, as she has taken a dislike to him, and I must give some thought to her happiness. There is still ample time for her to find another suitable young man. She will be eighteen soon.’

‘Indeed sir, you are wise.’

‘I will compose my letter and you may deliver it in the morning. You may go.’ Sir James went to his desk and drew out a sheet of paper and got his pen and ink ready to write down his thoughts.

------

So it was that the engagement was broken off, and Duncan and his young friends no longer visited the house, though they saw her father in society. The house became a dull place without male company, and Elizabeth devoted herself to her studies, to dancing, to her French and to her embroidery and to playing the pianoforte and singing. Her favourite pastime was reading, and although her father thought it a waste of money to teach her such subjects as history, she read on the subject as much as she could, and was also often to be seen with a slim book of poetry.

She thought often of the Captain, but news came that his father had passed away and he was away from the city settling his affairs, being an only child and inheriting his estate.

------

It was some weeks before Captain John Lykel visited the household again. He presented himself to Sir James in the drawing room.

‘Sir James, thank you for receiving me.’ he bowed deeply.

‘It is a pleasure to see you, Captain.’ he replied. ‘I’m deeply sorry to hear of your father’s death. I trust you have been making yourself familiar with the running of your estate, now he has left all to you.’

‘Indeed, I have visited my mother and made sure she is comfortable at the manor. You may guess that I am able to support her financially and still have a comfortable income myself. That is of course dependant on my being able to manage the estate profitably, but I have my Navy pension as well.’

‘Of course, of course. Society expects much of men such as you and I and there are expenses to be met if one maintains a town house.’ Sir James paced the room as the younger man sat uneasily in a straight backed chair, leaning on his cane. ‘Let me cut to the chase, Captain Lykel, and ask why you chose to visit me today.’

‘Of course, Sir. You know I was widowed only a short while after marrying my Georgiana, who died bearing a child, who sadly also perished.’

‘That was indeed tragic. You were away at sea at the time, were you not?’

‘Yes Sir, it is a great sorrow to me and I still mourn her even though it was some years ago now.’

‘I am truly sorry - childbirth is a dangerous thing and I myself have been blessed with a wife of good health who has borne me two daughters.’ The older man looked pensive. ‘It is a worry to me that I must find them good matches, even though I hope to provide adequately for them if all goes well with my affairs’

‘That is good to hear, Sir. You speak of your daughters. The last time I was here, your older daughter, Elizabeth, was betrothed, was she not?’ The nobleman nodded and sighed deeply.

‘That was so, but I fear that is no longer the case. She told me that she did not wish to marry him, and shortly after I discovered that he had been visiting a house of ill repute, and was gambling heavily. I could not hand my daughter over to such a man.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it’ The Captain shifted in his chair. ‘I was much impressed by Miss Elizabeth – we share a love of Burns and she questioned me about my travels at sea.’ Sir James smiled fondly.

‘Yes, she has a great curiosity about the world, and a lively mind. I feel she may not have been able to express that with her former suitor.’

‘Sir.’ the Captain shifted again, gripping his cane. ‘I hope you will not think me presumptuous if I ask whether you might permit me to court Miss Elizabeth. I much enjoyed her company, and as I have stated, should she return my affections I would be able to provide for her financially.’ Sir James widened his eyes in surprise, but inwardly he was pleased.

‘That is an interesting proposition, young man.’ he replied. He paced the room, looking thoughtful, and the Captain held his breath while attempting a casual air. At last he stopped and turned to face him. ‘You may certainly pay your suit and discover if she might accept your company.’ The Captain let his breath go, and allowed himself a small smile.

‘That is most generous of you, Sir. May I ask when I might be permitted to visit?’

‘I must check with my wife as to when Elizabeth is at home.’ he replied. ‘of course she has dancing and music lessons and such like, and she will be able to tell me when it would be convenient. I will send my man over to your house before the end of the day.’ He stopped again in thought ‘I daresay it might be possible within the next two or three days, should Elizabeth be receptive to you in the first instance. In due time we shall hold another supper and you will be invited, all being well.’

------

As it happened, Elizabeth knew that the Captain had arrived and was talking to her father. Her mother did too, and would not allow her near the window when she heard him leaving. Her agitation was almost unbearable, but she tried hard not to let it show, and made her best effort to concentrate on her sewing. Before long, her father sent for her mother, and she was left to her thoughts for an agonising length of time during which she got up, paced the room and wrung her hands together. Jane entered after a while.

‘Please Miss, your father wants to talk to you in the library.’ She dipped a little curtsy, and Elizabeth drew herself together, smoothed down her clothes and pinched her cheeks to appear more presentable before entering the library, where both her parents sat waiting. Her mother had a soft expression on her face but did not speak. Her father cleared his throat.

‘Well, Lizzy.’ he began. ‘had you a notion as to what might just have occurred?’ he asked, looking at her sternly.

‘No father – what did business did Captain Lykel have with you?’ She asked innocently. He fixed her with his gaze, and her heart hammered in her chest.

‘It appears he is much taken with you, and has asked permission to court you.’ She caught her breath, certain she would faint away, but she kept her senses, gripping the back of the chair beside which she stood. Her father’s mouth twitched a little as if he were trying not to laugh ‘Please Lizzy, do sit, I don’t want to have to pick you off the floor.’

‘Oh father.’ she gasped, and sank onto the chair, her legs shaking. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘I said he had my permission to call, but that it was up to you as to whether you accept his company or not.’ She felt tears spring to her eyes. She had hoped the Captain had not forgotten her, and it had been agonising wondering if he would call again.

‘Well Lizzy, what is your opinion of John Lykel?’ her mother asked softly. ‘Do you think you might receive him?’ Elizabeth wanted to laugh and dance with joy, but that would be unseemly, so she arranged her face into a tranquil expression.

‘I fear I do not know him very well, mother, but he seems agreeable.’

‘Good lord, girl, he is most eligible now that he has inherited his father’s estate’. her father retorted suddenly. ‘You would do well to consider him. He has retired from the Navy so you will not have to spend long months apart, he will be managing his business affairs on land.’

‘If you think it is seemly, then I will attempt to know his character better.’ she said solemnly. Her father sighed in exasperation.

‘You girls will be the death of me. Your mother tells me you have no lessons tomorrow afternoon. I will instruct the Captain to pay us a visit tomorrow.’ Here her mother spoke.

‘You know how to behave, Elizabeth. After I have introduced you  in the front parlour and withdrawn, Betsy will remain as chaperone. If you wish to end the visit before your time is up, you will signal her and I will return to show the Captain the door.’

‘Yes mother, as it was with Duncan’ she replied. ‘I remember it well.’

‘Very well, things have been set in motion.’ her father replied. ‘I only hope that you regard this young man better than the previous one. I cannot afford to keep turning down perfectly good suitors for your hand.’ Elizabeth blanched.

‘I hope so too, father. I liked him well enough last time we met.’

‘Well then, let us hope all goes well tomorrow.’ her mother interjected. ‘Now then, your music master will be here soon, please prepare yourself. Perhaps you can pick out a pretty tune to play for our next dinner party.’

‘Yes Mama.’ she got up and curtsyed before leaving the room, feeling a little light headed and excited about the events the next day would bring.

[zero-heather]

Persona  Main Cast Arcana Swap (Spoilers!)

I wasn’t really paying attention to ships and stuff like that while making this, more-so what was interesting to switch. It occurred to me in the planning of the P2 cast that some crushes are canon. But, here we go anyway!

Persona 1

The Emporer - Reiji Kido (Protagonist): A silent boy who lost his older half-brother during his younger years. He carved an X on his forehead using a knife to make sure his parents don’t treat him like he was his brother. The Chariot - Naoya Toudou: The partially-spoiled son of a manga company. An occasional troublemaker, but also a nice person. His crush is in the hospital. The Hierophant - Masao Inaba: A rich young boy who will soon inherit control over a large group of companies called the Inaba Group. He’s spoiled, intelligent and has no tolerance for stupidity of any kind. The Strength - Kei Nanjo: A father-like figure that almost everyone St. Hermelin looks up to. He is an ex-yanki who was reformed by one of his teachers, to whom he has great respect for. The Justice - Yukino Mayuzumi: A girl who likes to make jokes and prank people for attention. Her parents were never really around for her and she was laughed a lot during her childhood. The Hermit - Hidehiko Uesugi: A young boy who has been hospitalized for a little over a year. His childhood friend, Reiji Kido, occasionally visits him and he gets more frequent visits from Naoya Toudou. His father is too busy to visit him. The Judgement - Maki Sonomura: A beautiful and intelligent girl who has come back to Japan from studying abroad. She aspires to travel the world, but wants to stay in her hometown for the rest of her studies. The Magician - Eriko Kirishima: An airheaded girl who hates hearing anything that displeases her. She likes to live in the moment and doesn’t think about her future too much. The Devil - Yuka Ayase: A delinquent who doesn’t have much care for anything or anyone other than her parents, who are poor. She usually plays hard to get but is a really nice person inside.

Persona 2 Duology

The Sun - Katsuya Suou: A delinquent type adult. His younger brother gives him lectures on how he should try and be a better person but he doesn’t care. Hates his brother and his father. The Justice - Tatsuya Suou: Katsuya’s younger brother, a high school student who wants to join the police force to clear his father’s name. Also has an obvious crush.

The Death - Kaoru Saga: A narcissistic young man in his early 20s who runs a band, in which he is called Baofu. He rejected his parents constant complaining on how he should be a ‘Traditional Japanese Man’, but he still has a very low self esteem. The Hanged Man - Eikichi Mishina: A high school boy who is able to wiretap and hack into any known database. He hangs around Tatsuya’s friend group, despite remaining a mystery to even them. He goes by the name Michel. The Wheel of Fortune - Maya Amano: A young woman who was the childhood friend of Katsuya. Her parents are both deceased and she works for COOLEST Magazine. All that aside, she’s calm, collected and likes flowers.

The Moon - Jun Kurosu: A high school boy whose motto is ‘think positive’, even in tight situations. He makes friends easily and happens to forget a lot of things, but is a good person. Also doesn’t believe many people like him. The Lovers - Ulala Serizawa: A hyper young woman who knows martial arts and is a fan of Bruce Lee. Her parents wanted her to be a ‘Traditional Japanese Woman’, but just like Kaoru, she rejected their wishes.

The Star - Lisa Silverman: A high school girl who has bad luck with men and can never seem to find someone right for her. She’s a professional boxer and also sneaks out to drink, despite being underage.

The Strength - Kei Nanjo: A photographer for COOLEST Magazine who was involved in the SEBEC incident. He works with Maya Amano, and with the help of her and his old teacher, he’s comfortable with who he is now.

Persona 3

The Fool - Aigis/Metis: A high school student who came back to Tatsumi Port Island 10 years after their parents died on the bridge due to a fire. Canon is Aigis, which is female, and optional is Metis, who is male. The Lovers - Minako Arisato: A young bubbly girl who likes big crowds. She’s a popular girl at school, unknowingly, and also stays in the Gekkoukan High Dorms. She has a gun holster on her belt and has a brother. Somewhat loud and “obnoxious”. The Magician - Minato Arisato: A young blunt boy who hates big crowds. He’s a popular boy at school, unknowingly, and also stays in the Gekkoukan High Dorms. He has a gun holster on his belt and has a sister. Reserved and introverted. The Empress - Yukari Takeba: A wealthy individual and next in line to inherit control of the Takeba Group. She’s a very intelligent person and many people look up to her, as she is also the student council president. The Emporer - Junpei Iori: A second year that runs the boxing club at Gekkoukan High. He takes boxing very seriously and also finds it a good stress reliever. He’s determined and courageous, and also a good mentor. The High Priestess - Mitsuru Kirijo: A quite and kept-in girl, she serves as the navigator for SEES. Her best friend would have been found outside Gekkoukan High with Apathy Syndrome if not for her. She’s a bookworm and likes sci-fi. The Hierophant - Akihiko Sanada: A shady third year who hardly shows up at school. He only joined SEES for personal reasons which he refuses to share. Has a soft spot for Fuuka, and is good friends with Junpei. The Justice - Fuuka Yamagishi: A little girl who seems to know Akihiko from her past. She’s well behaned and a good role-model for others her age. Despite being 11, she lives in the Gekkoukan High Dorms. The Chariot - Shinjiro Aragaki: A robot made to destroy shadows. He can only develop human feelings through contact with those feelings. He is enrolled in Gekkoukan High as a second year, despite being a robot and seeming more like a third year.

Persona 4

The Fool - Teddie: A transfer student from Tokyo who came to live with his uncle for a year. He’s very anxious in social situations, and arguments between his friends makes him nervous. Has a weird obsession with bears. The Magician - Rise Kujikawa: A goofy and fun young girl. Her parents are the managers at Junes, and she works part-time there. She’s also in Teddie’s class.

The Chariot - Kanji Tatsumi: An intimidating young boy with martial arts skills. He may be buff but he’s not really aggressive. Suggests eating more meat a lot and is good friends with Rise. The Emporer - Yosuke Hanamura: A badass who was able to take down an entire biker gang by himself. Feared by his classmates, but he is a good person. He likes knitting and has more feminine hobbies, he also questions his sexuality a lot. Despite being skinny, he’s a lot stronger than the buffest one in the group. The Lovers - Yu Narukami: A model who is famous for his cross-dressing and his way to charm crowds. He’s very blunt about his thoughts but he means no harm. He’s a fun person to have around, but he already has a crush.

The Star - Yukiko Amagi: A strange woman who came from the TV world. She makes a lot of puns, albeit sometimes doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and is fascinated with the human world. The Wheel of Fortune - Chie Satonaka: A detective who acted like she was male for most of her life. Is only now getting used to being able to freely act like a woman, and is still coping with her identity. She’s logical and the smartest in the group.

Persona 5

The Fool - Morgana: A young boy who was arrested on false charges and sent to Tokyo for a whole year as ‘probation’. Despite all the rumors surrounding him, he’s a good person and probably the most lenient friend you’ll ever find. The Chariot - Haru Okumura: An ex-track and field runner, she hates how adults think they can just lie their way through life and not have any consequences. A good hearted person with a somewhat goofy attitude. The Magician - Futaba Sakura: A young girl who was found trapped in Kamoshida’s Palace. She eventually decided to come over to the human world and take the guise of Futaba Sakura. Kind of annoying but overall understanding and polite. The Lovers - Akira Kurusu: A young boy who was being sexually abused by Kamoshida, as for a while he kept telling everyone and himself he was female. He eventually came out as a male publicly, despite being a bit nervous about it. A strong-hearted individual. The Emporer - Ryuji Sakamoto: A young painter who seems to think Akira is still a girl, despite him publicly stating he was male. He’s polite but also poor, so he starves himself a lot which explains his slim yet tall figure. The High Priestess - Ann Takamaki (P5)/Kasumi Yoshizawa (P5R): The student council president of Shuujin Academy. She keeps up her polite and obeying act in public, but when she’s with the group she’s an absolute unit that no one dares cross. The Hermit - Goro Akechi: His father runs the coffee shop which Morgana is in, and he also has an obsession with video games. He serves as the navigator for the group. He is reserved and hates going out in public. The Justice - Yusuke Kitagawa: A young and upcoming detective. He may be polite in public, but he’s really a sociopath who will murder anybody and anything that upsets him. The Faith - Ann Takamaki (P5R): An elegant and intelligent young girl, who gets the top score at Shuujin, which is why she was offered a scholarship there. She’s actually very stressed out and often becomes depressed for no reason.

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch xiv - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which they will always find each other

He woke to Lilly sitting beside Emma, holding her hand in her own. The sight made his stomach lurch. While things were still jumbled in his head, he could distinctly remember her betrayal as she burned the castle they were in to the ground as a Dragon, and her indifference on the beach as Emma was drained. She looked up to see him watching, and he could see she was crying, tears falling over a bitter frown. 

“I know. I don’t have any excuses… Cruella manipulated me as if I was a puppet. I couldn’t see it before, but now it’s like I see everything.” Lilly looked down, lightly smoothing Emma’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how - I don’t think I’m a match for her here or there. She’s so much more powerful than I ever could imagine. She fooled us all.”

“Did you see Emma? I couldn’t get to her before I woke. Isaac pulled me into some kind of bubble. She looks even weaker, and last I saw her…”

“Cruella is draining so much more than usual. I don’t understand how or why Cruella keeps taking her magic, but Emma is falling apart. Her dreams are sometimes unstable, her magic is too powerful to be contained within the rites, and it’s not always Isaac in control. I am really frightened for her.” Lilly swallowed hard. “I saw Cruella talking to this… this thing; a big black monster wearing a no face, I mean, a husk mask. It spoke in a thousand voices, and was almost gelatinous, forming limbs as it pleased. Emma swore she saw the same monster in the bath house here, and it told her that it was ‘Hungry’. I didn’t believe her then, but I heard it say the same thing as Cruella soothed it. She promised it that she would free it soon, as soon as she was done fattening it up. Does she mean for it to eat Emma? Why would she befriend that thing?”

Isaac’s words began to return to him. 

“The hungry ghosts. Cruella wants Emma to be a husk. If Emma falls and loses herself, Cruella will be more than powerful, practically unstoppable, with Emma’s magic fueling her own. That creature you saw is what’s left of the husk’s who got lost in those fantasies, tricked by Cruella. Isaac has an idea - Emma has to hang on, has to shock herself awake through nightmare after nightmare, but not lose herself in the process.”

“Cruella is not going to go down without a fight,” Lilly warned, and he nodded, Emma’s pull making him suddenly tired. “I’ll keep watch. Get Emma out of there, and please keep her safe.”

“That’s the plan. I won’t leave her.” He closed his eyes, feeling himself leave the cathedral. 

A noise stopped him and as if he was a ghost, he looked down at Emma, himself, and Lilly struggling against two men. One carried a crowbar while the other brandished a club, swiping at her as she looked back to where they lay. With a pucker of her lips and a deep breath, Lilly blew fire in a circle around them all, the men stalking the perimeter. 

“Now now, Lillykins. That wasn’t very fair, considering. Horace and Jasper just wanted to greet you with a firm salutation.” Cruella stepped across the flames, the orange fire going green as she passed through. She smiled in her spotted dress as Lilly backed up against the dais. 

“What more do you want? You’re killing her!” Lilly yelled, and Cruella laughed. 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time now, luvvie. If I’d do it to my own kin, what makes her anything special? It’s poetry that she’s also an enemy, and so strong, but I’d have manipulated this outcome regardless.” Cruella smiled, approaching where Emma slept. “Now listen, be a darling little beast and move out of the way so I can make sure no one interferes anymore. It’ll only take a minute.”

“No! Why are you doing this? What do you mean your own kind? I don’t understand, I -" 

The man with the club connected it hard to Lilly’s skull, Cruella looking on with a piteous grimace. The Dragon princess crumpled, falling to the floor and twitching, Killian’s view stuttering as she lost consciousness. Cruella tried to push Lilly aside with her foot, but grew annoyed within seconds. 

"Horace! Jasper! Throw her in the crypts. I have work to do.”

The taller of the men picked up Lilly as the Dragon groaned, Killian relieved to see her alive. They stepped out, and his vision of the cathedral grew foggy. The pull was getting too strong to resist as Lilly faded further into his mind, regardless of his grounding anger towards the Kitsune queen. 

“Oh, Princess. You will be the finest of my collection. When my ghosts get a taste of you, oh, how they’ll feast. You’ll all be so angry,” Cruella cackled, her voice far away now. “I cannot wait to see what the full extent of your magic can do.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The explanation Killian had given Queen Snow was thorough, but much more like a briefing than the story of what had all gone on. He intentionally skirted around his and Emma’s misunderstandings, both good and bad, and left out as much of Her Grace’s mistakes as possible. If that conversation was to be had, it belonged rightfully to Emma. Telling her that Emma’s determination and belief that he had faith in her was enough to place her in peril would be more than enough of a conversation between him and the queen. It didn’t help that he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from praise, Emma’s unselfish, kind, and courageous attempts to save him from cruelty while he should have been protecting her forefront in his mind now that Cruella preyed on them so openly. 

“So, a sleeping curse cast by none other than Cruella De Villé. I wish I could say I was surprised. I truly had hoped Maleficent’s influence and Regina staying the sword over their necks would have changed their ways.” The queen sighed deeply. “That still begs the question, why did you run to my daughter’s aid?" 

Because I would do anything to save her. I owe her that, a thousand times moreover. Because I… 

"I already destroyed my own family once and that was hard enough.” He kept his tone formal, although his nerves felt like they were fraying as the queen observed him with an owlish glare. His unfinished thought rattled him. Did she know? “But knowing that I destroyed yours, too? I just—I didn’t know how I could live with that." 

"Interesting, but not an answer that relates directly to Emma. From what I have gathered, you have saved my daughter several times now, nearly meeting very unpleasant consequences for doing so. The way you danced with her, your mannerisms and candor, it all belies a sense of familiarity that goes past friendship.” She raised an eyebrow, and he could feel the burn of her eyes on him. “Considering your… track record as it were, I’m wondering what you see of value in Emma that you would risk injury for. How do I know you haven’t just poisoned her into a cursed sleep like you did to me?”

Killian gulped, and her eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t know how to live with myself after I…” The pause was awkwardly long, but the queen nodded in understanding, encouraging him to continue. 

“Knowing fully, being unable to escape it in my cowardice by fleeing to Darkness - I can’t do that with her next to me. Every action I took, the massacre I committed haunts me, and I carry its weight as I should, and as I have to. Most killed weren’t even men; we trained green boys to go to a slaughter. I see their faces over and over without the ability to stop myself. I failed them, and I lost them. So many lost men, lost boys, all of them at my hand but not my will. I will never forget them. I can’t forget that night or so many like it following the dagger’s commands. I am trying to overcome this, to make sure that I am never a danger again, Darkness or not.”

“Lost boys and men come back to haunt anyone with a part in the war, but you have to be first on their list. You say you had no control, and now you do because of my daughter’s presence. Are you sure my Emma is not a crutch for you?” she asked. 

“She isn’t. She asks of me to lay with her -” Her reaction was vicious and instantaneous, the blade to his neck back and closer to spilling his blood than before. 

“You’ve been intimate with my daughter? I should kill you right now for that alone and pray it sticks!" 

"I swear on Liam and his honor, I haven’t touched her other than to lay beside her -” Killian rasped, pressed back into the wall. The queen was smaller than him or even Emma, but she was faster and far stronger than he’d expected. 

The sword jutted up harder, and he tried not to swear. 

“With no intentions more than soothing her from the shock she’s developed.”

The queen lowered her sword, looking surprised. She backed up a step still pointing the blade at him. “Emma has developed…" 

"She is unable to rest at all without having fits of panic in her sleep. It isn’t my place to say, but she has seen more bloodshed than most nobles, even when I have tried to guard her from it.” He rubbed his neck breathing hard, the queen biting her lip and looking aside. “There’s also her fear of Nil, especially considering what he’s said he wants to do to her.”

“My poor… Oh, my Emma,” she whispered. 

“I swear to you that I have no plans to have any sort of relationship with her after this. The Darkness will never allow it and I can’t risk hurting her.” He laid out his hands in a gesture of supplication, the queen sheathing her sword. “I want her to be happy.”

The queen took a moment to smooth her dress and tuck in her sword under a bit of skirt. After the moment of silence, she spoke quietly. 

“You sound as if you have feelings for her, though.”

She was as perceptive as Emma, staring through him like glass. 

Killian shook his head. “Only in a place where I am allowed to have them. I’m not as lucky in the waking world. I’m aware in both of my…” He grimaced, and clasped his hands behind his back. “I know I am far below the mark for who is worthy of her, even without her status, and I am very aware of my limitations regarding my curse. I carry the Darkness, outside of these rites. I can’t be around her, I can’t have feelings for anyone, let alone her. I also know my limitations regarding my history with everyone she holds dear. I would never allow that sort of pain for her. When she wakes, she will have forgotten this, and anything other than undergoing the rites." 

"Hm. Well,” she mused, and pressed her hand to her cheek. “Let’s see how Emma responds to these emotions of yours, knowing that you are under my watchful gaze and in great peril should you be anything less than her standards. You may be poisoning her heart and mind, as you sentenced me to sleep without waking. Although…" 

Her shoulders tightened as she opened the door to let them out of the dim study. He almost did not hear her whisper when it came. 

"Emma is a surprisingly good judge of character, except when it comes to you, apparently." 

He nodded. "That I wholeheartedly agree with, Your Majesty.”

They walked back through the corridor and into the ballroom where Anna, Ingrid, and Emma looked up with surprised delight. 

“There you are! We were just telling the princess about your skill at sailing and the sword. She’s never been on the sea, you know.” Ingrid smiled coyly, pulling a goblet to her lips to drink. Emma blushed, and Anna curtsied at the queen who waved her off. 

“Anna, you never need do all that. Formality went out of our shared window when you brought ducklings into our dormitories and I somehow became their mum. As far as I am concerned, while David is my husband, you were clearly my first partner.” Anna laughed brightly, and the queen gave Killian a nod as she pulled Ingrid and Anna away. 

“I take it my father is sulking somewhere from my mother’s tongue lashing?” Emma asked, wringing her hands. 

Killian snorted at the truth of the situation, but pulled a chair out, offering her a seat. She sat with a sigh, playing with a leftover bit of cheese on her small tasting plate. 

“Something like that. He was just worried is all. My family doesn’t have the best legacy -" 

"You and Captain Liam have fixed that legacy ten times over, and the Arendelle kingdom sings your house’s praises! What nonsense! Why I -” Emma huffed, crossing her arms. 

“How do you know all that?” he interrupted to ask, looking at her as she opened her mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it. She thought for a moment, then pressed fingers to her temples. 

“I don’t know, actually,” Emma murmured after a long pause. “I know so much about you that I can not figure out how I have learned. Like I said before, it’s like I know you." 

"Tell me something about myself, and if it’s right, I’ll reciprocate. If it’s not, you know that you’re just overwhelmed by your neverending duties to people who you feel don’t care about the real you, but only as some figurehead ideal, and you have created some elaborate, imagined story for me.” Her head shot up as she looked at him in shock. “You may find we know a lot about the other somehow, instinctually. As if you’ve known all along.”

“How…? Alright. Alright then.” Emma straightened, squaring her shoulders and locking her eyes with his. “You hate hot chocolate, even with cinnamon, which is a dreadful shame. You take Chicory instead, black as night, and like all sorts of bitter things. You don’t like thunderstorms, or like things out of your prescribed order, and both make you tense; the former more than the latter. You won’t admit that you enjoy dancing, but you do, and my theory is that it is a way for you to separate your mind from the action that is almost muscle memory. While you are very skilled with a sword, you are better with a cutlass that’s a bit longer, and better still with a pole, trident, or halberd. You know the constellations in the night sky as if they were friends you are describing, and can identify just about any fish or plant.”

Emma paused, thinking hard. “In fact, actually - I think you’re smarter than me, both in ways of the outside world’s workings which is to be understood, but rarer still, better read than me. What I don’t know you do, and the things that have escaped your knowledge, I am well versed on. The only thing we both don’t know is history, but that’s because it’s all based on testimony…”

Her eyes widened, but she stopped, her lip pulled between her teeth as her mind turned over what she’d discovered. 

Smiling, he leaned forward. “That was more than one, love. But, then again, you only pretend to like rules. Truly you find them suffocating. You love hot chocolate but also have a penchant for tarts, cookies, and cinnamon pastries preferably with glaze. You would eat granite rocks if they came with frosting on top, I’m almost positive.” Emma laughed, then covered her mouth with a blush. He continued. 

“You lived - live within a precise and fine tuned schedule, reveling in chaos where you cou - can make it. You have napped in the library shelves to escape nannies, tormented Granny the cook with her own granddaughter just behind, and have played more tricks on visitors than you dare admit to. You don’t like the idea of being trapped anywhere, but have accepted it as your duty. It makes you sad, but the thought of disappointing your family makes you feel even worse.” She let him take her hand, and he could hear her breathing hitch. “You’re a good person, and lovely inside and out. You have an uncanny ability to bring people together and find the silver linings in the world that others can’t see. It may be frustrating sometimes to have to try and dissuade you from your efforts of playing savior, but you come out on top regardless.”

“Captain,” she began, slowly. He interrupted her with a laugh, and she raised an eyebrow. 

“I was never a captain,” he managed to chuckle out, and she gave him a look of confusion. He squeezed her hand lightly. “Please - For you, it is always Killian.”

She nodded. “That’s right. You are - were - a lieutenant, but I don't… I don’t understand any of this.”

“You don’t have to. If you don’t mind, I’d love to see this world with you. You talk about it often and it would be nice to have a visual to go with your stories." 

"So we do know each other then?” He nodded and she smiled wide. “Do we - are we courting?" 

"Not exactly, but for all intents and purposes, here we have the opportunity to if you wish it.” She blushed, but her grin remained. 

“What is 'here’? My home, the palace? Or -" 

He grimaced, trying to figure out any way to summarize. "That gets… It all becomes more difficult to unravel the further you go.”

“Well, the quicker you begin the story of how this all came to be, the quicker you will be out of it.” Emma smirked, rising. “I do so love a challenge.”

“Alright. Then I’ll start at the beginning, aye?" 

"And I shall do the same, come.” Emma took his hand in hers, pulling him with her behind a curtain. Her body seemed to relax, the spring in her step more playful as she ducked into a corridor. “Let me spirit you away to my world.”

She led him to the library while he gave parts of their tale, pointing out to him towering shelves and long ladders leading to hidden alcoves, although her favorites for napping or hiding away were the highlights in her introduction of the grand space. Conspiratorially she showed him the hidden shelf that she hid illicit novels, the descriptions making her blush when he read them aloud. 

“Devoted Acolyte and Priestess, Jeriline Clearbrook, has been devoted to her craft of healing all lost souls who wander through her temple. She serves as a perfect student of the Goddess Wü, her vow to preserve her maidenhood under the teachings sacramount. 

When a non-believer from the barbaric North Kingdom is trapped within the temple walls by the magic of the Goddess, Jeriline fears that a terrible cosmic error has been made. Kadejah is rugged, unrefined, and headstrong in his beliefs - especially his belief that he should be free of his cursed confinement. His interest in Jeriline starts purely to gain his freedom, but slowly morphs into something more, challenging everything they both hold dear and their very identities.”

“It’s not as trite as the description would lead you to believe -” Emma sputtered, but as he read a particularly wicked passage about the priestess’s seduction, she ripped the book away from him. 

“I thought it was illuminating, how despite their differences and the very Gods forbidding it,” Killian teased, trailing a finger over the color that graced her neck, “Kadejah still managed to make her 'scream his name as he filled her to the brim with his massive -’ " 

"I can’t imagine why I don’t remember you at all,” Emma hissed, pushing the book back into its nook. “Such grand and supportive fun you offer.”

His teasing earned him a steely review of their next stops, as Emma tried to regain her calm amid his flustering her. The great hall and grand stairway were beautiful, and as Emma relaxed again, she seemed to remember him further. His comments began to meet her own, their rapport beginning to follow its normal beat. In the tapestry vault, she lingered closer to him, watching him carefully as he smoothed out long banners and throws. When Killian met her gaze, she did not flutter away or panic, but instead studied him closer still, looking for answers he knew she would find. 

They spent time in the menagerie area where the royal collection of animals were kept, talking about everything they could remember about each other. When a topic changed, he brought up twenty questions or silly word games while Emma remembered more by the second. She stroked a bright yellow elephant, feeding it mango as Killian puzzled over guessing what his name might be. 

“Mouse?” he asked, and she shook her head. 

“Smaller, and more colorful, with almost infinite varieties.” Emma stroked behind the beast’s ear, earning a half trumpeted snort. “Think things that fly, but are hardy -" 

"Bird?" 

"No, but closer! Tinier still, although some can be large, I suppose. Same letter, and birds eat them.” Emma shrugged. 

Killian snapped his fingers, sitting up. “Bug?" 

Emma grinned, nodding. She tossed him a mango, and he approached cautiously, Bug lifting his long yellow trunk to grab the ripe fruit. "I ride him every odd occasion, in parades or into meetings if I feel the need to have a dramatic entrance." 

"Well, he does make quite the statement,” Killian laughed. 

Emma motioned her hand, and the elephant lifted him with ease, despite his yelp. After a moment he was seated along with her on its back, Bug carefully trotting down a hallway. 

“This obviously wouldn’t be allowed normally, but I have always wanted to do this. My mother would lose her mind if she even got wind of the idea!” Emma giggled, and he laughed too. “I wonder how dream mom would react -" 

"She’s not a dream, actually. At least I don’t think so. Do you remember everything yet, or…?” Killian asked. Emma shook her head, leaning back into him. 

“Some things,” she whispered. “I am dreaming, and so are you, but you and I have feelings for each other. I can control some aspects, but there is a great evil lurking. I am being drained of my magic, and it hurts terribly." 

"I am sorry. I should never have -" 

"It’s alright. You and Lilly came in after me, but these dreams… They’re remarkable in their realness. It’s easy to get lost within them, and no one but us or a handful of others are cognizant of what is happening. The Other, Cruella and her different disguises, they’re used to this place. It’s giving them an advantage, and she’s using that to try to keep you and Lilly away from me.”

“Yes. You’re under a sleeping curse.” Bug stopped, and Emma hopped down from his back. Killian followed, Emma leading him to a familiar portrait. He took a deep breath, looking up at his brother painted so meticulously and true to life, it almost hurt. 

“I remember sitting here more vividly now than ever,” she whispered, sadly. “I think this was the easiest world yet to let myself get lost in, truly lost in here. I’m a breath away from forgetting everything, especially if it meant having everything back, and you…”

“Your mum - the Queen, she may actually be here, love. She and I spoke,” Killian swallowed, deciding to keep the incident with Cruella to himself, as not to unload too much at once. “She seems to be in here with us somehow.”

Emma cocked her head to the side, looking thoughtful. “My mom was under a sleeping curse before, when…” She looked at him, then at her feet. “When the Goblin King made you…" 

"When I poisoned your mum? And it’s any wonder she let me near you.” He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. 

“Killian…” Emma took his hand, and smiled gently. “If she didn’t ram a sword down your throat, it’s a sign that she has a bit of hope for you.”

He chuckled, unable to stop himself. “She tried. I believe that like you discovered, I’m much too much of a hassle to dispose of that way.” Emma laughed, swatting at him. When he caught her hand, she led him away from Liam’s portrait and outdoors. They entered a pretty solarium, partially shaded and hidden by a copse of willows. Stained glass peppered the ceiling and walls in different shapes, casting rainbows on the stonework floor. 

Flowers bloomed everywhere, pots and planters overflowing with blossoms. Emma walked towards the closed exit door, pushing hard to reveal an atrium of some sort, the door itself concealed behind a tall painting. French doors with intricate wood inlay stood partially open on one side of them, a sitting area and entry table in front of them. Another door lay beyond that, in what Killian guessed must be her bedroom. Emma closed the hidden passage behind them with a soft click. 

“This is my chambers, and one of the secret ways in. That solarium is usually fully hidden unless you know the way.” Emma tugged him forward slightly, pointing at the artwork covering the passage. It was a forest scene, light streaming down onto foggy moss and wet leaves, the greens verdant and many colored leaves bright. “I was given this by a Contessa, who offered me so many different treasures. This was the only one that I found worthwhile, and truly beautiful.”

“You have good taste,” said a voice from behind them. They turned to see Emma’s father walking from her room. “Must have gotten it from someone.”

“Daddy! You scared me, what are you -” Emma attempted to take a step forward towards him, but Killian held her back. “What -?" 

"Ask him something only your father would know.” Killian stared down the King, Emma continuing to look perplexed. 

“Um…” she began. “Let me think I guess - uh -" 

The King plunged a dagger through Killian’s chest, Emma screaming in shock at the sudden and unpredicted violence. 

"I hate having to keep doing this, simply because you won’t listen, like a good puppy,” Cruella sneered, twisting the blade before wrenching it out. “Wake up, and stay out.”

The last thing he saw before everything faded to black was Emma’s terrified face. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

David N'lan was many things, even by Emma’s measure as his daughter. He could have a ferocious temper, as it had been written about in legends of his fierceness in battle or noted in his proud family history as a raging fury passed down from his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, brutal warriors who made their marks as Kings. Emma had not learned much about them outside of the ballads of their victories or heroics, her father inheriting only some of their battlelust, the majority apparently settling in his twin brother James moreover. Her mother had said that Emma had a calming effect on him, even more so than their marriage had. Unless either of his 'favorite girls’ were threatened, the King was a fair, kind, jovial, and moderate man. 

Emma had seen him truly angry only in a few circumstances, usually after the majority of whatever had vexed him seemed to have dissipated. Graham was terrified of her father after his threats, and the few instances that Emma had been hurt or could have been severely injured by carelessness had drawn his ire. Emma remembered his silliness, laughter, and his love first in any situation, followed by his ability to find humor and be overall lighthearted. 

She had never seen the malice in his eyes, or the ravenous look of greed that curled his lips as Killian crumpled in front of her. Whoever, whatever , stood in front of her was no father of hers, and in no way could be any version of him. 

Feeling panic try and root her to the spot, Emma pushed out an exhale, doing the opposite. The fear of what she believed wore her father’s face still tore a scream from her, but it was better to do so while running than allow it any more time near her. She heard it scrabble behind her, but willed her eyes to not look as she tore through the halls. Killian had said that her mother was potentially here, and Snow N'lan would never have let Killian get far with Emma if there were any threats or she had any possibility of worry - a cursed sleep met both requirements. 

The flash of a reflection on the floor caught her eye, a sun spot bounced off a mirror. Following it with her gaze Emma made the quick turn as Cruella sounded right behind, and saw a great white and black dog creature crash into the wall out of the corner of her eyes. Emma barely kept her own footing, managing to grab her mother’s hand as the giant dog-like thing shook itself and gnashed its jaws. 

Pushing Emma behind her and pulling her bow taut, Snow let arrows fly in rapid succession, Cruella falling dead in the form of a massive, wolf-like fox spirit, so close that their skirt hems ruffled with her last exhale. 

“Sorry I couldn’t get her sooner. I’d hoped the Dark One would be more useful in providing protection for you, but -" 

Emma hugged her mom, wrapping her arms tightly around her and sobbing like a child. The Queen stumbled slightly but as she laid her bow and quiver down, she wrapped her arms around her daughter in turn, soothing her gently. 

"Hey now, hey my little buttercup, it’s alright. I’ve missed you so much Emma, we all do. We’re all so worried about you -" 

"I’m so happy you’re here, Mom. I love you so much. Are you all OK? Please tell me you are all safe and alive - everything is so messed up, I don’t know what to do -" 

"We’re surviving, and everyone is alright. Worse for wear, but alright considering. The Dark One said as much about things being difficult, if he is to be believed. I’m so sorry we didn’t prepare you better, I’m so sorry for sending you here with him. I should have gone with you, or your father…" 

"I’m so glad you are all alive, oh Gods, I’ve been so scared! And yes, he is to be believed, he's… I trust him with my life." 

"So I’ve heard, but I thought it was one-sided, or a falsehood. I suppose that he was telling me the truth.” Snow furrowed her brows. Glancing back at the dead animal, she pinched the bridge of her nose, and ushered Emma away from it. “Come, Emma. Let’s take tea in the drawing room until either that thing comes back, the Dark One returns, or we figure out a way to get you free of this. I feel we may need to talk.”

Emma nodded, watching Cruella fade away completely before standing up. Her mother led her to the sunny drawing room, its elegant doors open to a beautiful courtyard. They sat together while a servant fetched them tea and small cakes, both making small conversation. She found that she couldn’t recall the last time her mother had been free enough to do something as banal as tea between only the two of them, let alone idly chatting. When Emma felt relaxed, her mother struck. 

“The conversation I had earlier, with the Dark One…” Her mother set her teacup down slowly, sliding the cup so the handle sat just so on the saucer. “You fell for him then, truly?" 

"That’s what you’re focusing on? Seriously Mom?” Emma exploded, exasperated. Her mother eyed her shrewdly, and Emma felt a rage rise in her that roared like a lion. She pushed it down, the uncalled for and frightening urge to smack the calculated calm from her mother’s face too tempting after everything that had happened. “I’m hoping beyond hope that you are real, because yes, I did. He’s helped me navigate through all of your mistakes. He’s different when we’re together, and I -" 

"Your father is going to go mad at this development,” Snow said, using both hands to pick up and sip at her tea. She sighed. “This was not what I meant when I said destroy the Darkness. As for my mistakes, I am aware of my rash judgements in the past but they certainly - ”

“Destroy? It’s not destroyed, it’s still in him. He’s just caging it, he - ”

“Emma. Do you know how we stopped him, and how we broke the Dagger?”

“True Love’s Kiss. It woke you from a sleeping curse. The Dark One poisoned you, his orders to preserve you for execution by the Goblin King. Father woke you as the Goblin King commanded the Dark One to kill you both -" 

"Our kiss shattered the Dagger, and stunned the Darkness. I could feel it when I was filled with that power, when the light hit it. The tiniest smidgen hung on by a thread. That bit of Dark is what is left, and it can be destroyed no matter how loud it declares it cannot. If you love him - truly, unabashedly, love him - and if he can put enough faith in trusting himself to love you with complete denial of the Darkness’ pull, you could have a chance of True Love outside of this place. It’s the smallest chance of happiness, but there is a chance to save him. It means you risk everything: you risk breaking your heart for his benefit, and I don’t want that for you.”

“All love comes with the chance of heartbreak, Mom. All love means risk, and all love is a dangerous gamble. You and Daddy were a gamble; he risked everything for you, and to give you that kiss. You risked everything by agreeing to ascend to the throne, becoming a singular target. You both took chances and ended up making decisions based on faith in each other - I want that. I think Killian and I could have that. I finally feel like I have met someone who understands the walls I didn’t know I had built up. I love what I see when I bring down his own, and who he is.”

“You’ve grown so much, Emma. You almost sound as if you know what heartache this will bring you, as if you can fathom it, or understand the lengths men like him would go to, just to use you.”

“I do understand, Mom! I did grow up! I’ve been torn apart by this world and put myself back together only to get chewed up and spat out. I had to grow. There wasn’t an option, alright? Killian, he has been both the worst and the best, and he is growing too. He’s fighting for control for himself, first and foremost, and because he wants to be better. I wish you could just for one moment realize how much bullshit you’ve made me overcome!” Emma yelled, standing up in anger and knocking her tea cup to the floor. It shattered, and Emma let out a frustrated noise before taking in a deep breath, bending down to pick up the shards. 

Her mother looked appalled, but kept quiet, staring at her as if she was a stranger. 

“I’m sorry, Mom. I miss you so much. I miss all of you, and Father. I have longed for your counsel and tried so hard - I’ve had to undo and learn so much… It’s been a lot. I… I don’t feel like myself anymore. I’m a different Emma than you knew, and I am not sorry for that, just sad you can’t see what made me change and why I am making my decisions.”

Her mother’s face was unreadable, the expression one Emma hadn’t seen before: a cross between pensive anxiety and concerned sadness. Emma swallowed thickly, her mother a stranger before her as she had become a stranger herself. 

“I…” Emma began, and choked down the sudden feeling of intense guilt that flooded her. “I need a moment. I think I’ll wait for Killian in the garden.”

“If you’re sure?” the Queen asked, and Emma nodded, the tone of voice her mother was using confirming her decision. When difficult dignitaries or events took place, her mother used that gentle firmness as an indication she wanted to be done, her tone to excuse herself politely. 

Emma nodded, armor up and engaged, knowing that this truly was her mother in her dreamscape. Only a mother could twist her heart like this, and still wring out only love. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll find you later.”

Her mother left quickly, and Emma felt relief, which in turn only made her feel even worse. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian woke up with a start, the feeling of being eaten alive by the malignant Darkness, its sharp teeth leaving him stunned, like his bones were sucked clean of offal. He looked around for Emma and found her still sleeping, her pallor gray. She shivered and let out a tiny noise when he tried to wake her, skin clammy to his touch, Isaac’s thrall still holding tightly. 

He let out a huff of frustration, his jaw muscle tight. 

“Bloody hell." 

He laid his head down beside her own, falling easily back into the curse. The Darkness resisted burning away, the tearing feeling of being flayed as the curse peeled it off of him like drowning in liquid flame. 

You will regret this whence you return. This I promise. 

I may not be able to stop you now, but I can certainly hurt her in this weakened state. 

When it was done, he stumbled into the dreamscape gulping for air. Emma was waiting for him in the garden, looking exhausted but stunningly beautiful. The breeze was cool, flowers swaying, the pink color of their petals dappled with afternoon sunlight. The cloak she wore moved to the side, her white gown showing a long column of neck. Killian took a deep breath, remembering himself, remembering her and Gods was that a mistake when the cloak fell away. It was a wonder that anyone could look at her at all in her court dresses, everything tailored to stun, leaving him in awe even with his bias. 

"You’re back! I swear to you, that wasn’t my father!” She ran to him, and he caught her as she examined him, checking to make sure he was awake. He swallowed hard, no, anything but hard, her hands trailing up the sleeves of his uniform. “I thought you left me alone in this place, I thought you abandoned me, and you weren’t coming back - ”

“Never. I’d never. If you have need of me, I will always come back. Did she hurt you? Do you know where we -" 

"Yes. Yes, we’re in the dream, and I can feel I don’t have much time. It’s getting worse, the forgetting and them taking my magic. She tried, clawed me pretty good, but I ran. She’s getting stronger, Killian." 

"I know, we are trying. We have to go through the nightmares soon -" 

"In case you fail, I have a request,” Emma whispered against his chest. 

“Anything. We’re going to get you out of here, but anything -" 

Killian’s shoulders tensed when her lips pressed against his, the sharp inhale of surprise that he was sure she could feel when she let them press together. His panic left it chaste and awkward, leaving her to pull away in embarrassment. 

With her face reddening, Emma stammered and stepped away. "I’m sorry. I just, I’ve never been kissed properly by you when we both - I mean, we both are aware and I - I thought that we were more than friends or companions or whatever we are. I wanted to remember, and if I was to remember anything it would be that. I shouldn’t have done that, please forgive me.” He caught her by the arm before she could escape, fighting back a well of emotion that ached. 

At least she would forget as she had forgotten him before in these dreams, all the imagined early morning conversations, her kisses and the way he always came so close to wanting her while holding himself back. Even against not realizing what was going on, and understanding this was all fantasy, he had kept his lust for more of her tamped firmly down. He had known on some level what he was unable to remember, that she was more, and that she deserved consent. 

The constants were now Killian finding her, and forgetting until it was too late - but always, always , wishing this was real. 

[jiminddeok]

WINGS (PT. 1) - M

For it was he who dared lay with a mortal, be cast down from the heavens and forever marked as a sinner

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Words: 4K

Genre: Fantasy, AU, 18+ (for cursing and future smut)

Summary:  While going on a camping trip one weekend with your brother and his friends, you run into a mysterious stranger who catches your attention in all the ways no man has ever done before.

Part: One

A/N: So this is a fic I wrote like 2 years ago, I’m just re-uploading it cause there’s some things that annoyed me when I read over the chapters and I just wanna publish them again. Anyway its not the best fic but I loved the idea I had originally and I hope some readers might like it too ^^

~

Kim Taehyung had always been seen as a prodigy. He grew up on the higher tiers of the heavens, surrounded by the purest of pure. People praised him daily for his smarts, always the first to come up with a solution, and was never questioned for what he said.

Maybe it was because of all this, that the angel Taehyung began to stray from the path that was set out before him. When people told him, what was to become of him, he always wondered why? Why must he do what others want of him? Him being the smartest of them all. A king should not have to bow down to those of lesser importance, and Taehyung knew he was above all who surrounded him.

They say intelligence correlates with curiosity, and no place tempted the angels’ mind more than the forbidden lands that lay below.

~

“Shit, I think I’m lost.”

I was currently driving around a mountain trail, utterly convinced l was going the wrong way, seeing as my sat nav was telling me to go in a direction which I’m pretty sure would take me off a cliff.

“I’m gonna wring Jungkook’s neck when I see him,” I mumbled to myself. My little brother thought it would be a great idea to go camping for the weekend with his group of friends, but seeing as I was working late, I had to drive up to the camping site by myself to find them. I didn’t think twice about it when we had discussed it earlier and I’d agreed to come at a later time. But now that it was beginning to get dark out, my nerves were starting to get to me. I stopped the car and pulled over on the side of the dirt road, deciding maybe it was time to try and get some help.

“I suppose I should ring someo- Ah fuck!” I shouted as I looked at my phone, of course it would have chosen that moment to go dead, god forbid something actually went right for me for once. The lack of available communication just raised my level of worry from mild to extreme. “I should just turn around and forget the whole thing, my brother probably won’t even notice if I don’t show up,” I said with a whine.

I sat for a few moments in the car staring at the forest surrounding me, debating what to do. Jungkook had put a lot of effort into planning the trip, his friends were all home from college for the weekend, and he didn’t get to see them often because he was younger and still attending high school. The boys couldn’t have a wider range of personalities, but they all became good friends after signing up for the local music club. I genuinely loved those boys like they were my family. Since our father passed away, Jungkook didn’t have many male role models to look up to. But now he had five older brothers and I couldn’t be more thankful to them for looking after him.

I had just made my mind up when I noticed a figure suddenly emerge from between the trees. It was too dark to see their face, but the blond hair they sported was clearly visible. I remembered Jungkook mentioning Jimin having dyed his hair recently, so I didn’t give it a second thought when I jumped out of the car and ran towards the boy. Finally, I was rescued.

“Jimin, over here!” I shouted, waving at the figure.

Honestly, I should have at least waited by my car for him to come over, just in case. But I was too grateful by the thought of being rescued that I didn’t even consider that it could be someone else. As I grew nearer I began to notice things about the person. Things like how they were ever so slightly taller than the Jimin I remembered, and his back profile didn’t have the muscular structure I was guilty of staring at a little too often. My feet stopped moving when this information finally registered with me, and I came to a standstill when they turned around.

It was an angel.

Or at least they looked as though they could’ve been one. The man who stood in front of me looked as though he’d literally descended into the forest. He had a mess of blond hair on top of his head, which I had already seen from a distance, but now that I was closer I could tell there was no way that this blond came from a bottle. It was a golden colour unlike any I’d seen before, a perfect contrast to his dark eyes, which were directly into mine.

It took me a while before I realised neither of us were talking, only staring at each other. Him with a smirk on his face, and me with my mouth hanging open like a fool.

“You’re not Jimin,” were the only words I could think to say. The stranger chuckled at me and I swear my heart jumped.

“No, I’m certainly not.” He replied.

Fuck me. With a face like that I hadn’t expected a voice so deep to respond. I needed to get a grip, this guy probably thought there was something wrong with me seeing as all I was doing was staring.

“Ye-yeah, sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I managed to stammer out a reply, for once thankful for the dark so he couldn’t see my blushing face. “I’ll just be going, sorry again,” I held up my hand as a sort of parting wave towards him and turned to walk away, but a tug at my sleeve pulled me back.

“Are you lost?” the stranger asked, holding onto my sleeve. “With the way you came running over, I’m guessing you’re looking for someone? A boyfriend maybe?” He cocked his head at me in question, still not having left go of me.

“Uh, yea- I mean no. I’m supposed to be camping with my brother and friends. No boyfriend, definitely no boyfriend. But yeah, I’m lost. I was just going to drive around again when I saw you. I was hoping you were someone I knew,” I stammered out, cringing internally at myself. What was wrong with me? I spent most of my life hanging around those of the opposite sex and I’d never been affected in this manner.

“Is it the campsite near the waterfall? Because I can guide you there if you need,” the stranger asked. Was this really happening? Was a super hot guy offering to save my lost ass out in this forest?

I stared at him trying to decide whether it was a good idea or not to trust him, but before I could, he started dragging me back in the direction of my car.

“Get in. If you drive, I can direct you,” the stranger said.

I didn’t even get a chance to refuse, not that I wanted to really, before he shoved me behind the wheel of my old banger of a car and closed my door shut behind me. He then walked around the front of the car and sat himself into the passenger seat next to me.

As he sat into the car, he carried a scent in with him, a scent like fresh air. The kind of smell you get when you first open your windows on a spring morning. I was utterly mesmerized.

“I take it you’re not in a hurry?” He said with a smug voice.

I gazed to the side and the handsome stranger was looking back at me with a smirk on his face.

“Ugh, yeah sorry. So which way do we go?” The stranger chuckled and began pointing me in the direction of the campsite.

~

“Finally!” I shouted out.

We had just rounded a corner, and I could see a campfire flickering up ahead, with the silhouettes of people around it. It had taken us about 20 minutes of traversing the mountain, but we’d finally found the campsite.

The stranger hadn’t spoken much to me, aside from giving directions, but I felt his gaze on me the entire time. It was quite flattering, but I had never felt so self conscious in my life. I could feel his eyes following my every movement, every time I pushed my hair out of my face or licked my lips out of nervousness.

I pulled up next to the car that I recognised as my brothers new jeep, thankful that I finally found them. Now I just had the problem of getting rid of the stranger before the boys noticed him. Not that they were overprotective, but they would take any chance they could to tease me, and showing up with a boy would be prime teasing material.

I took a deep breath and turned to the passenger seat, but the man was already exiting the car.

“Hey wai-”

He was walking towards the back of the car and I had to twist in my seat to follow his movement. He paused for a moment, I’m guessing to find the button to open the booth, before succeeding and ultimately cutting off my view. I scrambled to get out of the car and stop him before he could try and do anything, but he had already managed to pick up half the bags I had stuffed in the back.

“I really appreciate all your help with getting me here, but I couldn’t possibly ask you to do anymore for me, you can leave those there, it’s fine,” I said as I fumbled out of the car and made to go to the booth. I tried to grab the bags from the stranger’s hands, but he must have been hiding some serious muscles under his shirt because all my tugging did nothing.

“Just let me help you,” he said, clearly amused at my attempts to take back my stuff. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been this interested in something.” His words caught me by surprise and I dropped my arms to my sides.

I dared to look into the eyes of the stranger and found him already gazing at me. With some form of superhuman strength, he managed to shuffle all the bags into one hand, and reached out to me with the other. Usually I’d be wary of strange men trying to get so close to me, but there was just something about this guy that shut off all reasoning in my brain. His fingers touched the side of my face and I let out a huge deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding. His hand continued across my face to tuck a piece of stray hair behind my ear, and then rested there on the side of my head. My body seemed to have a mind of its own, as I began to inch closer to the man in front of me, not breaking eye contact for a second.

“Y/n!”

I probably jumped about three feet into the hair at the sound of my younger brother calling out to me. I’d been so caught up in my moment with the stranger, that I hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Jungkook came right up to me and pulled me into his arms, totally oblivious to the moment that he’d ruined.

Jungkook was my younger brother by 4 years, but most days he acted as if he was the older one. I know he felt pressured to become the “man of the house” once dad passed. He took on a weekend job as soon as he could, to help mom out with the bills, and he was always looking out for me too. But because of this, he was awful for showing respect to us as his elders. Not just with me, but with all our friends. He was a cheeky little shit sometimes but he was too cute and always got away with it.

“Where have you been? We were so worried about you,” my brother said, as he held me out in front of him, giving me the once over making sure I was all in one piece. I strained my neck to look behind me, searching for the stranger, while Jungkook fussed. He was still there, staring at us with a confused look on his face.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook had stopped checking me over, and instead was now focused on the man standing behind me.

“Uh, this is the guy who helped me here. I got lost on the way and he was nice enough to give me directions. His name is…” I trailed off realising that I hadn’t even thought to ask his name.

“V,” the stranger cut in, “you can call me V.” He held out his hand to Jungkook, who took it and gave it a firm shake. I stood in between the two, still trying to process the last few minutes.

“Are you up camping around here too? Do you wanna join us?” My brother asked V. That was another thing I hadn’t questioned, V had been wandering out in the forest alone with no equipment when I had found him. There was something seriously wrong with my brain not to question any of this.

“I’ve set up camp nearby, but I’ll join you for a bit, I’m in no rush to leave.” V said, winking at me as he walked off with my brother. The two of them had managed to take all my bags between them, and I was left standing there with arms empty and mouth hanging open.

I felt like I was stuck in the middle of a dream, or possibly a nightmare depending on the reaction of the rest of the gang. This stranger could be a complete psychopath, and he’s just waltzed right into our company without a hint of suspicion by anyone. What was going on?

~

By the time I’d made it over to the campfire, V had settled himself in between Jungkook and Jimin. Looking at the back of the two now, I wonder how I ever could’ve mistaken V for Jimin, even at a distance. The two had totally different builds, Jimin was very broad, muscled and pale, whereas V was slender and toned looking, with a slight tan to his skin tone.

I made my way to the other side of the fire, and sat down next to Yoongi, the only person I knew who wouldn’t tease me for arriving with a strange man. He was probably my favourite person out of all the boys to hang out with. We had an easy friendship, neither of us pressured the other into talking when we were in a foul mood, but we were always there for each other too when we needed to talk. We both loved to just sit at home and relax whenever we all got together, which is something none of the rest of the boys understood.

Jin and Namjoon weren’t too bad, we like to joke that they were the mom and dad of the group. They had a tendency to look out for the rest of the gang, and take charge in certain situations. But they had their crazy moments too. Then there was my brother and Jimin who were like two little children always running around the place. They were so hyperactive all the time and seemed to have a never ending supply of energy. When they got together, chances are we’d always find them off doing some sort of physical activity.

“So y/n, who knew you were the kind to pick up strangers eh?” one of the boys joked.

I hadn’t even fully sat down before the teasing began. Jimin stared across the fire at me, smirking and looking between me and the stranger he was speaking of.

“I’d say I’m less of a stranger and more of a guardian angel. Who knows how long she’d have taken to find this place if it weren’t for me,” V said, winking over at me. I swear he had an obsession with winking. The rest of the group laughed along with him and I just put my head on my lap, groaning in response.

“Well at least you’re here now,” Yoongi said sympathetically, rubbing my back. I subconsciously began to sway along with the motion of the rubbing. I loved having my back rubbed. My mom used to say I was like a cat because I melted into people whenever they rubbed my back or head. It was a guaranteed way to calm me down in most situations.

I lifted my heavy head to see V once again giving me that strange look, the same one he had earlier when Jungkook hugged me. I wouldn’t call it a jealous look or anything, more like a confused look. This was in turn confusing me, seeing as I couldn’t see why he would be looking at me like that.

“Right well I’d better go set up my tent then,” I said, standing up. It was dark which meant it would be difficult enough to set up my tent, but better to do it now while I wasn’t as tired.

“I’ll help,” Jungkook said, standing up with me. Normally I’d be a bit stubborn and refuse the help, but I’d already wasted enough time getting here tonight, I didn’t want to miss out on anything more by having to spend hours setting up the tent. I nodded over towards him as a silent thanks and collected my stuff from where him and V had dropped it earlier.

“Be back soon,” I called out and we walked over to where the rest of the tents were set up.

~

“Jungkook what are you- OUCH! That was my face you moron!” I shouted.

To say we were struggling was an understatement. My tent was one of those ones where you had to connect the poles and slide them through hoops in the tent, which wouldn’t have been so bad if either of us had brought something stronger than the light of our phones to see with.

“It’s not my fault you decided to stick your eye where the pole is supposed to come out!” Jungkook snapped back at me as he tried once again to stab my eye out.

“Need a hand?” V emerged through the bushes, looking ever so like the guardian angel he claimed to be. My heart rate jumped a bit at the sight of him, as if it had been weeks, rather than minutes since I’d last seen him. I was seriously going to have to get myself checked out if I was going this loopy over a man, this just isn’t like me at all.

“Yes please, you can take over here and I’ll head back to the guys before someone here gets hurt,” Jungkook said, and took off before I could even argue with what he said.

V strolled over to me, and took the pole from my hand, grazing my fingers as he did so. Once again I just kind of stood there with my mouth hanging open as V took the reins and began fixing up the tent.

“Are you an experienced camper?” I asked, amazed at the skill he was showing. His fingers worked so quickly at getting the poles to go in the right places.

“No,” he laughed, “I’m just good with my hands,” he said and winked over at me.

Once again I was glad for the darkness around us, because I know right then and there that my face must have been the brightest shade of red ever.

“You’re very fond of winking you know,” I stuttered out, trying to appear as if I hadn’t been affected by his previous words.

“It’s a new concept to me, and I like the way it seems to affect you,” he replied in a deadly serious tone.

“A new concept? Do they not wink where you’re from?” I tried to play it cool, choosing to ignore the latter half of his sentence. V got up, having finished setting up the tent, and moved to stand in front of me.

“Yes surprisingly, I’m from a pretty far away place and winking isn’t something you would see often,” he said moving closer to me, “and neither are girls like you.”

V brushed his hand up against my face like earlier, moving his hand to rest behind my ear. He began rubbing his thumb along the side of my head, and I closed my eyes, melting into his touch, and to be honest I don’t think I’d have been able to stop myself even if I wanted to.

“You really are such an interesting creature.”

I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but when I opened my eyes, I realised how close he had gotten to me. Our faces were mere inches apart and he was staring very intently at my lips.

So I kissed him.

If someone ever asked me what had possessed me to do it, I wouldn’t know what to say. Kissing strangers wasn’t something I did, I never made the first move. But it felt as though my body was working separately to my mind and just went for it.

V went rigid as soon as my lips touched his. Neither of us had closed our eyes and I could see the shocked look reflected on his face. His lips were sealed tight and had not responded at all to my touch.

I was mortified.

I started to pull back, but V’s grip on the side of my head tightened.

Then, he closed his eyes, and his mouth began to move against mine.

It was like nothing I’d ever felt.

My stomach was churning with butterflies and I thought my heart would beat out of my chest.

I closed my eyes and moved my lips back along with his. He placed his free hand on my side, and I felt my skin singing at his touch.

I moved my hands, which had been dangling by my sides, and I used them to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer.

Our lips were moving furiously against each other, with a passion I had never before felt.

V’s hand squeezed my side, causing my ticklish self to let out a gasp, leaving my mouth open against his. He used the opportunity to gently brush his tongue along mine and I swear the movement started a fire between my legs.

It’s not as though I’d never been intimate with a boy before, but no one had ever made me feel so alive just by kissing.

I boldly pushed back against his tongue, swiping along it, enjoying the feeling of the two slick muscles rubbing off each other.

As our mouths moved, and our tongues danced together, I began to move my hands lower down his body, to his sides. Once I got a grip on his hips, I pulled his towards my lower half, mashing our bodies as close together as they could go.

V let out a growl from his throat at the contact, and wrapped his hands further around my body, until we were both so caught up in each other that you couldn’t tell where I started and he ended.

Seeing as our bodies were so close to each other, it made sense that I noticed it as soon as he did, when a movement began in his pants. Considering the intimacy between us, I wasn’t surprised to feel him getting hard. But V suddenly froze, and pushed me away.

We stood facing each other, both panting and out of breath. There was a look of pain etched across V’s face, and if he was having an internal fight with his body.

I couldn’t understand what had gone wrong, and as I took a step towards V, he took a step back.

A different feeling began to take over my stomach, this one was a feeling of dread and rejection. Had I done something wrong? Did he not want to kiss me?

“V…”

I whispered his name but trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said before he turned away and walked through the bushes, leaving me standing in the cold, having never felt so alone.

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Live Wire --The Dirt--(8)

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night...the same night Motley Crue is born.

AN: this chapter I think is shorter than the others by far, so don’t be mad, but another is coming this week!

@prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree, @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog

To the person who asked to be included on the tag list, for some reason your username is not showing up :( message me and I’ll get that fixed!

Previous Chapters:

One,    Two,    Three,    Four,    Five,    Six,    Seven

For months, Wren was able to keep her job at the public library a secret from the band. They were loud and boisterous people—except Mick—and were sure to embarrass the living hell out of her, or even get her fired if they dared set foot into her work, so it remained a secret until her drunken ass spilled the beans.

“You’ll need a shit ton of fliers if you’re going to even try and draw a crowd,” Wren slurred after a long night of drinking with Tommy and Nikki. Nikki had managed to secure the band a spot performing three nights during next week at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, and was currently panicked about not bringing in revenue. It took nearly a month of schmoozing his boss to even consider letting their band play, and even then it was allowed on the stipulation of bringing money into the night club.

“Maybe a radio ad!” Tommy gasped, his eyes wide with thrill until Nikki threw a half-eaten piece of bread at Tommy’s face.

“Do we look like we can afford a radio ad?” Nikki laughed.

“Do we look like we can afford fliers?” Tommy asked seriously in response.

“I can print them for free at work!” Wren had exclaimed in an excited tone as she jumped up at her own idea, subsequently tossing whiskey from her glass and onto her skin. And that was the end of her secret of employment. She was, however, able to print a few hundred fliers, and then she and the guys took to the strip at all hours of the day and night to post the news of Mötley Crüe’s debut.

The night before their first performance, the band met to solidify their set list and perfect the tiny details that irked either Nikki or Wren’s ears. Their practice ran short when Lovey sprang through the door and demanded to be included in the band’s “process.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Nikki asked as the blonde repositioned the frilly, light blue tank top that hardly covered her braless tits.

“Like her!” she then pointed to Wren. “Come on, which one of you is she fucking to be this close to the action?”

“Watch yourself, lady,” Mick gently warned as Tommy rose from his seat, Nikki tightened his fists, and Wren placed her hands on her hips in defiance.

“Babe,” Vince said in a soft, coaxing voice as he reached tentatively for his girlfriend’s arm.

“No, which one is it? Is she giving it to the old fuck?” Mick held his hands up above his heads, cleansing himself of any involvement in the altercation to come. “Who is it, Wren?” Lovey pressed the girl standing in stark contrast to her. Her done up make up and fanciful clothes looked like something out of a movie compared to the sweaty, tied up hair and bland, tattered, baggy t-shirt that swallowed Wren’s body. Why the hell is she threatened by me? Wren thought as the gap closed between she and Vince’s girlfriend. “Could it be the scrawny drummer? Or maybe it’s the bass playing motherfucker who doesn’t know shit about music.”

“Yeah, and some dumb bitch fawning over a cover band called ‘Rock Candy’ is so much more knowledgeable,” Wren retorted with venom on her tongue and a sting in her bite.

“Wren,” Tommy’s voice acted as a warning, not for her to back off, but for her to quickly make up her mind if Lovey was worth what was to come. When she turned to face the band in an attempt to gauge their opinions on the events unfolding before them, Wren’s eyes met Nikki’s cold stare. His lips were pressed thin and anger overwhelmed his face. Tommy was equally unenthused with the situation, and Mick bestowed a look of concern.

“Listen to them, Wren,” Lovey teased with her pouty lips poked out, “or they may not let you play with their dicks tonight.” The blonde’s big eyes were opened even wider as she anticipated Wren’s response; however, it was Nikki’s voice that cut through the tense silence.

“Vince, get a hold of your mutt,” Nikki shouted more at Lovey than to Vince. A defensive look flashed from his eyes as his gaze met Wren, only to see the frustration that coated her appearance.

“Stay out of it, Nikki! I don’t need your help!” Wren snapped with ice in her veins at the same moment Vince’s girlfriend retaliated.

“Fuck you, Sixx!” she yelled. “You can call me whatever the fuck you want; it doesn’t change the fact that you’re just too blind to see she’s just a stray you three let in for an easy fuck!” Her comment sat uneasily on all of the men’s shoulders, however they were hesitant to speak as they internalized the bitter, cold, and dissevered tone that had hissed at Nikki moments ago.

“The difference between you and I is that I don’t have to flash my money or my tits to get attention from a single one of these guys, and I still have more respect from all of them than you’ll see from any man in your pitiful, entitled fucking life.” Tommy couldn’t help the snorted chuckle that escaped his lungs as Wren finished her statement. Mick had a wide smile spread with his eyes narrowed and he nodded in agreement with Wren’s words. Vince, who had been hesitant to take sides in this argument faded to the background without a word in favor of either woman, and Nikki remained a statue by his bass amp as he continued to mull over the sting of Wren’s personal attack.

Lovey took a step forward and positioned herself so that she stood with less than an inch separating Wren’s chest from her own. Everyone in the room noticed Lovey ease up onto her toes so that her lips could be level with Wren’s ear due to their distinctive height difference. Lovey’s voice was a chilling breeze as she spoke so softly not a single person could make out a word that traveled from her lips except for Wren. As Wren stood flatfooted, back straight, posture erect, she stared forward and refused to bring a single bit of the emotions swirling within her to her face. “There’s nothing wrong with making up for lost time,” she began, “but will any of them really replace the taste of Clay?” Wren swallowed hard as she tried to suppress the lump that manifested so quickly in her throat. Her body became immobile as her veins turned into frozen rivers and her skin burned as hot as the surface of the sun. From across the room, Tommy immediately noticed all color wash from Wren’s face. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest so rapidly she thought her heartbeat alone could set the pace for the band’s next song. Wren could hear her name being called out, and she could see Tommy, Mick, and Nikki’s lips moving, but the voices were so distant, so severed from the bodies they came from, she ignored them altogether.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” she asked lowly only for the blonde to huff, flip her hair over her shoulder, and turn away. “How the fuck do you know that?!” Wren’s voice echoed even louder as she lunged after the much shorter woman and spun her around with a single, firm grip of her shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Lovey flippantly said with an aura of innocence surrounding her, “it just matters that I do.” In a blinding rage, Wren threw Lovey to the ground, only to be surprised that the other woman had grabbed a fistful of Wren’s hair and pulled her down as well. Lovey tried to pull Wren’s hair, but found herself curling up into a fetal position as Wren directed kick after kick and punch after punch to the girl’s ribs. Seeing this as an opportunity, Wren crawled on top of Lovey, used her knees to pin the girl’s limbs to her sides, and then landed two punches to the face before she felt Tommy’s arms slip around her.

“Get the fuck off me, Tommy!” Wren shouted before she slipped away from his grasp, shoved him away from her, and made another lunge at Lovey, who had taken her moment of freedom to stand and make a bolt for the door.

“Nik!” Tommy yelled out as Wren crossed his path. He and Mick had both set aside their instruments at the beginning of the girls’ argument, in case something like this were to happen. To Lovey’s fortune, Nikki was able to intercept Wren by snaking an arm around her hips, spinning her around, and flipping her over his shoulder.

“Put me down, Nikki!” she shouted. “Damn it, Sixx! Put me the fuck down!”

Ignoring Wren’s protests, Nikki called out first to Vince, then to the others, “Take her home, we’ll finish practicing tomorrow.” As he walked toward the back most room of the apartment—his room—he tried to ignore Wren’s angry fists pounding into his back, he tried to hold her still as best he could without getting himself kicked in the face, and he hoped she would calm down enough to talk to him instead of scream like she had done since the second Tommy tried to pull her away from Lovey.

Once inside his room, Nikki slammed the door shut and flipped Wren onto his bed so that her back landed against the mattress, forcing her body to bounce up like a ragdoll. He flicked the light on and stared at her with passionate anger manifesting in a steaming ball in his stomach. “What the fuck was that about?” he asked sharply as he stood over her. Wren still laid with her back against the mattress and her elbows propped up to support her, her eyes casting up in an angry scowl at Nikki.

“None of your business,” she retorted.

“Bullshit! I was just trying to help you out there!” Nikki stated as he took another step closer to where she lay.

“I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me,” she hissed, “let alone you!”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Nikki’s eyes continued to peer down at Wren as she laid all too comfortably on his bed with a defensive arrogance that both pissed him off and intrigued him.

“You don’t fucking know me, Sixx,” she hissed. “You don’t get the right to try and defend me when you have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

“You don’t let anyone get to know you!” Nikki snapped. He’d been hanging around Wren for long enough to know that she knew more of anyone else’s secrets than anyone knew of hers, and tonight just proved it. “You’re best fucking friend is out there and he doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on!”

“It’s no one else’s damn business!” Wren’s voice was sharp as she pulled herself to her knees and stared at Nikki with her eyebrows narrowed and her jaw taught.

“It is when you make it our business,” he retorted with his eyes narrowed in on her. Wren stood from her position on the bed and placed herself directly in front of Nikki.

“I didn’t make it everyone’s business! That bitch started all of this shit—” Before Wren could reach the end of her defense, Nikki’s voice interrupted her and turned her own words into a noose around her throat.

“Who is Clay?” Silence followed his question as both of their chests heaved in anger and the two stared into each other’s eyes. Each set of orbs, either hazel or grey reflected the same angsty, impatient, and frustrated glare as if the two souls were connected in their own misery. Nikki quickly noticed the subtle changes in Wren’s posture. Her shoulders tightened, her jaw clenched, her entire body turned into a stiff, unflexing wax replica of Wren, and all sense of emotion—hope, anger, hatred, fear—abandoned her otherwise pleasant face. After an overly long moment of anxiously staring down at the woman, Nikki folded his arms over his chest and widened his stance. Wren tugged at her lower lip with her teeth and Nikki saw for the first time, a—100% without a shadow of a doubt—true sign of vulnerability in Wren Ledden. However, in that single action—her holding her lip between her teeth in anxious terror—she stepped forward, jammed her index finger into Nikki’s chest, and with a quivering voice that was caught in her throat spoke.

“Don’t you ever say that fucking name around me ever again.” Without needing to be prompted, Nikki nodded, gently pulled Wren’s arms past his sides until she wrapped them around his torso, and softly placed his hands against her. One rested in the middle of her back and the other lay gingerly against the back of her head. He tried his best to ignore the warm pools of tears that gathered against his shirt and soaked into his skin, and he tried not to imagine the infinite sadness that her face could impose—her lips pulled tight in strain with the indention of her teeth lining her lower lip, he cheeks beet red and streaked with agonizing tears, her eyes puffy and hopeless—but he failed in this endeavor.

Nikki noticed the door to his room creep open ever so slightly to reveal Tommy’s curious expression begging to know if his friend was okay. He didn’t expect to see Wren wrapped up in Nikki’s arms. He didn’t expect to hear her soft sobs—a sound not even his ears had experienced before—but more than anything else, he didn’t expect to see a lonely, solitaire tear slide down Nikki’s face.

Continue Reading: Next Chapter

[artificialqueens]

Beneath the Amber Moon, Part 13 (Galactica AU Group Fic) – TheDane & Veronica

Heyyy!! Remember us? We’re so sorry that it’s taken so long to bring you the final chapter of this Galactica sequel. We’d love to hear what you think, and what characters you want us to focus on next. <3

Click here for previous chapters.

Last chapter: Everyone was dealing with the fallout from the club.

This chapter: The fallout continues as Bianca goes on an apology tour and Fame finally gets treated like the Birthday Queen she is.

/////

Bianca stood at the door of Fame’s bungalow, shifting awkwardly. Patrick had been the one to open the door, the man taking one look at her before he grabbed a book, stepping aside and telling Bianca he’d be on the beach for the next hour.

Bianca couldn’t blame him. She didn’t want to be there for the inevitable misery either.

Fame was on the bed, dressed in a pure white robe, her sun-kissed legs resting on a pillow, her hair collected in a towel on her head, a magazine open in her lap, not even looking at Bianca.

“You’re not gonna say hi?”

“Mmmh.”

“So… I guess you’re still mad at me?”

“Me?” Fame flipped a page. “Who said I was mad at you?” Fame asked with an aloof detachment that made something clench in Bianca’s chest.

“Everything about how you’re acting?”

Fame didn’t respond, the blonde simply reading her magazine.

“Fame… Please.” Bianca stepped forward. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“I’m sure you have some other place to be, Bianca.”

Bianca wanted to scream, wanted to tear her hair, wanted to do anything to make Fame pay actual attention to her. Would do anything to have her friend back.

“Fuck. For whatever I did, whatever I said, that upset you. I’m sorry. I just…” Bianca sank to her knees by the bed, exhausted and with no clue what to do or say.

“Urh.” Fame sighed, closing her magazine and finally, finally looking up, acknowledging that Bianca was in the room. “You’re really going for the Oscar.”

“Please, I can’t take this.”

Fame bit her lip, her white teeth disappearing into her pink bottom lip, the first flicker of doubt that Bianca had seen since the day before dancing over her friend’s features.

“Please. I really need you. I need...” Bianca reached out, touching Fame’s knee. “I need a friend right now.”

“Why?”

“I slept with Courtney,” Bianca confessed.

“Oh really?” Fame raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “And why do you need me?”

“Because! I just...immediately fucked it up. Now she’s avoiding me, and…” Bianca groaned. “I can never get it right with her. I don’t know why I thought, even for a second, that I could… Fuck.”

Bianca laid her head down on the bed, and then, she felt it, Fame’s hand gently touching her hair.

“I’m sorry you’re suffering.”

“Don’t be…” Bianca looked up, and if it had been with anybody else, she would have felt horrified at how tired and defeated she knew she looked. “I deserve it.”

Fame sighed, and Bianca was scared she would push her out yet again, but then, Fame patted the spot next to her on the bed. Bianca rose and climbed up, curling into her with a deep exhalation of relief.

Fame’s hands went to Bianca’s hair again, as if of their own accord, running through the thick, caramel-colored locks, causing Bianca to snuggle closer against her.

“I just wish it could be easier…”

There was a long pause before Fame responded, finally offering a tentative, “I don’t think she’s good for you, B.”

“No shit,” Bianca replied, followed by a hoarse, humorless laugh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Fame’s voice was low.

Bianca raised her head to look at Fame, who’d gone from cold and detached to warm and gentle in a matter of minutes. Bianca gave her a halfhearted smile.

“… Pretty sure.” She laid her head back down, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of Fame’s fingers carding through her hair, finally finding peace. When she heard a soft chuckle, she stirred and asked, “Something funny?”

“Just remembering what a horrific monster you were last night.” Fame smiled. “Now I know why.” She pulled Bianca’s hair slightly.

“Ow!”

“I’ll consider forgiving you. Acting like that on my birthday.”

“I was delightful last night,” Bianca batted at Fame’s hand. “What are you talking about?”

“Think Violet and Sutan found you delightful?” Fame asked, lips pursed in judgment. “Because I don’t.”

Bianca blinked, hazy memories coming back to her.

“Oh...shit.”

“Yeah, shit indeed.” Fame sighed, leaning back against the headboard. “Classic Del Rio.”

Bianca sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“And the worst part is! You were so caught up with that, and the drama with your sister and her girlfriends, that you didn’t even spend one minute fawning all over me. On my birthday.”

“Wasn’t your birthday technically two days ag-”

“My birthday week!” Fame huffed. “I felt invisible.”

“I tried! You were ignoring me!”

“Technicality!”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” Bianca picked up Fame’s hand and kissed it. “How about tonight, we make it all about you?”

“Sounds...appropriate.” Fame gave Bianca a sly smile, trying to pretend like she wasn’t immensely pleased.

“I mean...all about you, after I apologize for that shit with Violet,” Bianca grimaced.

“Apologize?” Fame widened her eyes comically. “You think that’s enough? You should pay for that kid’s college!”

“I’ll start with ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Fair enough,” Fame giggled, as Bianca snuggled closer to her. “Just don’t get on your knees. It’s really far too dramatic.”

/////

“Here you go, birthday girl…” Bianca handed Fame an elaborate-looking frozen cocktail - it looked like a piña colada with swirls of blue.

“Why, thank you! What is it?”

“I had them make something special for you. It’s called the Galactica,” Bianca said with a wink, clearly proud of herself.

Fame’s eyes lit up and she pulled Bianca closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Thanks, darling, I love it,” she said, with a flutter of lashes.

/

After spending all day recovering from her tequila binge with Adore, Courtney was still feeling a bit delicate. Especially when she thought about Bianca, the knot in her stomach growing the longer they went without clearing the air. Which clearly wasn’t going to happen tonight, judging from the way Fame was hanging on her, laughing giddily.

Courtney closed her eyes. It appeared that she’d lost a turf war - one for which she didn’t remember signing up. She supposed it served her right, for daring to come in the first place. Why she ever thought that a week with this group could be fun and relaxing was beyond her.

When she spotted Violet in the corner, mostly hidden by a large tropical plant, she beelined for her, speaking in a low voice so as not to blow her cover.

“What are you doing over here?”

“Waiting for Raven to look away so I can get out of discussing the Instagram handle of my maybe unborn child.” Violet rolled her eyes. “If we actually have the baby, I’d rather gnaw my own arm off than dress it like a little model. It’s a child. Why would a child need to wear Gucci?”

“Wait, Raven knows?” Courtney’s jaw dropped. “How does Raven know?!”

“A series of unfortunate events.” Violet gave her a tired, long-suffering look, shaking her head. Violet took a drink of the soda she was holding, Courtney unsure if she had ever actually seen Violet with a sugary drink before.

“Oh...well...can I hide with you?”

“Sure.” Violet giggled and moved, making room on the wall.

“Wait,” She looked at Courtney. “Who are you hiding from? Are you okay?”

“Um…” Courtney hesitated, wondering how much of her personal drama to unload on a clearly stressed pregnant woman with whom she still had a somewhat tentative friendship. She finally settled on a concise, “Things with Bianca are awkward. It’s been a week.”

“Cheers to that.” Violet smiled a little, clinking their glasses together.

“Yeah, and that…” Courtney’s gaze shifted back to Bianca, her arm still casually slung around Fame’s waist. “...isn’t helping.”

“I can imagine.” Violet nodded, then bit her lip, clearly unsure if it was okay that they were talking about it. “I don’t know what I would do if Sutan-” Violet cut herself off, and Courtney was grateful for it.

“I know you care a lot about Bianca.”

“At this point, I honestly just wish that we could be friends.” Courtney twirled a lock of blonde hair. “But...I don’t know if that’ll happen.”

“Bianca is… an intense woman.”

Courtney chuckled. “Uh, yeah. To say the least.”

Violet paused for a moment, then reached out and touched Courtney lightly on the arm.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Aren’t you scared of getting crucified for leaving?”

Violet shrugged. “The only good thing about being pregnant is that I have an actually true excuse for leaving places I don’t want to be at.”

Courtney laughed. “Honestly, nothing sounds better to me right now than room service and maybe, if you’re up for it, working on the Moschino line a little bit?”

At that, Violet’s eyes lit up. “Let me text Sutan, and we can leave.”

/

VIOLET: Juju saying that soda helps with nausea is a lie. Had to leave. Love you, don’t freak out.

Sutan smiled as he read the message, his girlfriend knowing him so very well.

Courtney is with me.

Sutan raised a brow, the new friendship between Courtney and Violet one he had never expected, but it looked like it was good for his girl, and therefore, he was all for it.

Please enjoy the party. Pay attention to Fame, it's only been three days since her birthday after all.

Sutan bit his lip. “I’m going to the bar,” he said to Detox and Karl who were standing with him, the words leaving him without even thinking. “You want anything?”

“Yeah, can I get-” Karl stopped talking when Sutan walked away, phone in hand, not waiting for his answer. “Rude.”

“Okay,” Detox crossed his arms, watching their friend leaving. “Is it just me, or does he look...uh...haggard?” Detox asked. “I know he’s not wearing a suit, but it feels like more than that-“

“It’s not just you; he’s a hot garbage mess,” Karl replied, sighing and sipping his wine. “Side effects of heterosexuality.”

Detox laughed, then frowned. “Wait, hey, what are you trying to say?”

Karl cast his eyes up and down Detox’s body critically.

“You heard me.”

/

Bianca cleared her throat, walking up to Sutan at the bar. She wasn’t ordinarily a big apologizer, but this was a scenario where her normal “deal with it” attitude wasn’t going to work.

In their group, Sutan had always been the chill one. The one who rolled with the punches, gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. And, maybe because of that, Bianca spent a fair share of their time together teasing him, giving him shit, treating him like a brother. The thought that she’d gone too far - far enough to hurt him, and someone he loved, made her feel awful. So she bit back her impulse to lead with something snarky and instead offered an uncharacteristically soft, “Hey…”

Sutan didn’t look at her, and if Bianca was honest, he kinda looked like shit. They were in Brazil, and yet he was more grey than sunkissed.

“Can I get a whiskey?” Sutan looked at the bartender. “ Quickly, please.”

Bianca cringed. A small part of her had been hoping that he’d be his normal contented self, totally over the drama of the previous night. She bit her lip and tried again.

“Um...is Violet okay?” she asked.

Sutan looked after the bartender, clearly judging if he’d be fast enough that it would be worth it to continue ignoring Bianca. He apparently decided against it, because he turned to Bianca, actually looking at her.

“B.” Sutan smiled a little, and Bianca saw again how tired he was. “I really don’t want to deal with you or your...humor. Right now.”

“No jokes, I promise,” Bianca said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I just wanted to...I’m sorry-”

Sutan laughed, a short crude sound. “You?” He took a drink of his whiskey. “Being sorry? Come on Bianca. Don’t lie to me.” Sutan rolled his eyes. “You’re good at it, but not that good.”

“Look, I know I was an asshole last night, and you don’t deserve that,” Bianca said. “So if you want me to fuck off, I will, but I needed you to know that I feel bad. And I’m sorry. Really.”

Sutan looked at her, watching her face, analyzing it. “Do you have any idea how much shit you fucked up?”

He sighed, and Bianca saw the last of his armor chip away as he took a seat. She reached out and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You hurt her B.” Sutan ran a hand through his hair. “Like, you really fucking hurt her, and I know you don’t give a shit about Violet, but- Fuck.” Sutan emptied his whiskey. “Hey, Francisco! Refill as well!”

“Look, I’m not gonna lie. We don’t really have a relationship; that’s true. But Tan, I love you.”

Sutan raised an eyebrow at the statement. “Are you dying?” He smiled. It was small, and tucked away in the corner of his mouth, but it was there. “You haven’t told me you loved me while sober since my father died.”

“Well, I do, asshole,” Bianca replied immediately, then stopped and added more contritely, “I do. And I would never, ever want to hurt someone you love. I was fucking around. I was being a dick. But I didn’t mean to hurt her, I swear. You may not forgive me right now, but...I hope you believe me.”

Francisco came with the drinks, taking away Sutan’s empty glass.

“It would have been a shit situation no matter what,” Sutan sighed. “So why not have it happen this way. The nightmare I didn’t even know I had.” He stood up. “Thanks anyway.”

“Do you wanna like...hug?” Bianca asked awkwardly.

“Bianca.” Sutan smiled. “If somebody is actually dying, you have to tell me.”

“Nevermind! Fuck you too!”

Sutan grabbed Bianca, pulling her into a hug, the man so much taller than her that he easily rested his chin on her head.

“I’m sorry, man,” Bianca said. “Really. I hope you’re okay. And I hope Violet’s okay, too.”

“I don’t know if we are.” Sutan sighed. Releasing Bianca. “These last 24 hours, they’ve been... Real fucking rough.”

“Well...if it helps, Fame wants everyone’s attention 100% on her tonight, so I think the heat is off you guys,” Bianca said with a wry grin.

“When has that ever not been the case?” Sutan took his drink. “Let’s go attend the queen's court.”

Bianca laughed. “Cheers to that.”

He held out his hand. “After you. My lady.”

“You’re a nerd,” Bianca said, unable to suppress the huge grin on her face as she took his hand, utterly relieved that he didn’t hate her.

/////

“Well, I’m gonna try to make this quick, because we all know how uncomfortable our beautiful birthday girl is with attention…” Bianca smiled, the table chuckling. “The truth is, blondie, you’re the reason we’re all here. You are the glue that holds this group together. We probably don’t say it enough, but thank you. Thank you for hosting brunches and weekends away and dragging us all on family trips and thank you for keeping us connected. And thank you for doing it while looking smoking hot…”

Fame beamed up at her, charmed.

Raven leaned over towards Juju, muttering, “Looks like someone is sick of the dog house...”

“I’m still saying she deserves it after how she acted yesterday.”

“And now I’m gonna stop before I embarrass myself…” Bianca continued.

“Too late,” Juju whispered to Raven, and they both snickered.

“But I just want you to know how much we love you. How much I love you. Happy birthday, Blondie. Cheers.” Bianca raised her glass, and everyone followed suit.

“I love it when you get drunk and mushy, Bianca. It’s pretty much the only time you’re tolerable,” Raja said, clinking glasses with her.

“I’m not drunk!” Bianca insisted. “I can be mushy sober. Like...once every few years.”

“Speaking of mushy,” Karl said. “Maybe you wanna add something, Raja?”

“Gladly!” Raja stood up, looking around the room and then at Fame, eyes already misty. “My darling friend…”

“Oh, here we go…” Bianca grumbled, annoyed that she was about to be upstaged.

Fame hit her lightly on the shoulder and then turned back to Raja, grinning.

/////

Sutan stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, surveying the scene. Violet and Courtney were curled up in bed, sketches littering the duvet, Violet’s head on Courtney’s shoulder as they were looking at something on the tablet in Courtney’s hands.

“So this is what feeling faint looks like?”

Violet smiled up at him. “Hi.”

As Sutan bent down to give her a soft kiss, Courtney cleared her throat and sat up, quickly gathering her things.

“I guess I should get out of your hair now,” she said.

“You don’t have to go right away,” Violet told her, as Sutan slid onto the bed beside her.

“It’s okay. I’m sure you guys want some alone time. Thank you so much for your help. I’m feeling a billion times better about the line.” Courtney flashed a grateful smile from the doorway. “Have a good night.”

“Goodnight, Courtney,” Violet replied, smiling slightly as Sutan wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his face in her hair.  

With one last glance at the couple, Courtney slipped through the door into the chilly night. She knew that they had something major to deal with - and yet, she couldn’t help feeling a bit envious.

Violet had something that she’d never experienced: unconditional support from the love of her life. Courtney knew that whatever she decided, Sutan would stand by her, and part of her wondered if she’d ever know what that was like.

/////

Bianca sighed with satisfaction, admiring the inside of her packed suitcase, everything perfectly folded, fitting together like a Tetris win. A soft knock on the door diverted her attention and she looked up to see Courtney, shifting nervously.

“Hey.”

“Hi...can I come in?” Courtney asked.

“Of course.”

Bianca was tentatively friendly, her guard still up. They hadn’t really spoken at all since the other night. Maybe Courtney would explain why she’d been avoiding her. She sat on the bed, waiting for her to speak.

Courtney perched on the edge of the sofa, looking uncomfortable, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how, or if she should. Bianca took a deep breath, trying to give off an air of unhurried patience.

“Um...are we okay?” Courtney finally asked.

“I’m okay,” Bianca responded. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Courtney bit her lip.

Bianca sighed.

“Look...I thought everything was cool. That we were on the same page. But for the last few days, it seems like you’ve been doing everything possible to avoid me. So...was it something I did, or-”

“No! No, you didn’t do anything. I thought...I thought you were the one avoiding me.”

“Well...okay then.” Bianca chuckled.

“Yeah,” Courtney exhaled, clearly relieved. “I guess it’s good that we’re talking, huh? I mean I hate being on bad terms with you, so-”

“We’re not on bad terms,” Bianca promised, giving her a smile. “I had a good time with you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Courtney glanced out the window, then back to Bianca, eyes soft and misty.

“I should tell you, you’re-” she paused, breath hitching, looking down.

Bianca moved beside her on the sofa, waiting for her to continue. When she looked back up, tears had collected in her eyelashes.

“You’re the love of my life, B.”

Bianca reached up to softly cup Courtney’s face, thumb running over her cheek.

“You’ve got a lot more life to live, kiddo,” she said, brushing away a tear. She leaned forward slowly, lips meeting Courtney’s in a brief, gentle kiss.

When they separated, Courtney sighed, wiping her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love you, too. Always will.” Bianca swallowed down a lump in her own throat.

“Maybe someday we could be friends,” Courtney said.

“Don’t push it,” Bianca joked.

Courtney chuckled, then leaned back.

“I should go…”

“Okay.” Bianca rose with her.  

“Take care, B,” Courtney said, giving her one last kiss on the cheek and then heading to the door.

“You too...Supergirl.”

Courtney tossed a grin over her shoulder, and Bianca smiled back, hoping she’d never forget this moment, the way Courtney looked in the dazzling afternoon light.

/////

Goodbyes with this group were always a lot, but Raven thrived in them, the melodramatic nature of it a joy for someone who loved drama as much as she did.

Most of them were flying home together, Adore saying a tearful goodbye to Courtney, while Karl was handing out hugs to everyone who was going to New York.

What was the most interesting though, was Raja and Sutan.

The twins had been acting strange ever since Violet had been forced to announce her pregnancy, and while Raja kept insisting that she was fine, that she had talked to her brother, the air between them was still thick with tension.

Raven watched as Sutan walked up to Raja, him and Violet needing to leave to catch their flight, and Raja hesitated for a moment, her arms not immediately going around her brother to hug him until Sutan pulled her in, the two standing together, talking in quiet Indonesian, Raja hiding her face in his shoulder.

Raven could see that it made Violet uncomfortable, knew that everything was changing, but as Sutan pulled away from Raja, giving her a quick, sweet, closemouthed kiss before he walked over to Violet, Raven saw her face change.

Violet looked like she was coming home as Sutan took her hand, the two of them leaving together, fingers intertwined while they walked towards their new life together.