#if you really want to make a tight lacing story just make a retelling of empress sissy of austria

[theawkwardone6]

Literally don’t talk to me about how uncomfortable Victorian women’s fashion was unless you’ve had a Victorian outfit tailor made for your exact measurements, you’ve broken in your corset, and you wear it for a whole day or I will stab you 13 times

[lockes-woods]

Stuck Chapter 22

A/N: Just a heads up I wasn't able to fit angsty/possessive Mishanks in this chapter. This chapter lowkey ended up being almost 4,000 words and I didn't want to make it longer than that. It also ends on a bit of a cliffhanger; so if you'd like to avoid that I would wait til chapter 23 comes out to read. Final warning there is heavy drinking in this chapter.

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“There’s no fucking way,” Himiko laughed at Sanji’s retelling of their notorious regular’s fall.

“Yes, he literally fell over nothing and spilled his ‘extra extra hot’ latte all over himself. He then started screaming because no one helped him up. He threatened to sue the coffee shop for the burns.”

“Damn, maybe karma does exist; I’ve had to remake his latte at least twice every shift I’ve worked there since I’ve started.” Himiko said, applying setting powder, “I’m not happy he’s hurt, but maybe he’ll finally stop coming.”

“I hope so. If it’s not his order, it’s him trying to learn every girl who works with us’ schedule.” Sanji said from his spot perched on the closed toilet seat in Vivi’s guest bathroom.

“Yeah, there’s no denying he’s a creep.” Himiko agreed, finishing her makeup by applying her lipstick.

“Shit,” Sanji said staring down at his phone.

“What?” Himiko asked as she put away her makeup.

“Um, do you know that Luffy’s bringing his friends from the poly sci program?”

“Sorta, I said he could bring whoever he likes. Why?” Himiko said looking through her accessory bag.

“Um, he invited Ace,” Sanji said, showing her a picture of them pregaming at Luffy and Zoro’s place.

“Okay?” Himiko replied, putting on her dangly star earrings.

“Won’t that be awkward?” Sanji asked.

“Sanji, we fucked once almost 3 years ago when I first moved to the city it’s fine,” Himiko responded, giving herself a once over. She was wearing a two-piece dark blue-almost black velvet dress that had white and silver stars all over it. The first piece was a sleeveless dress that hugged her in all the right places and had a sweetheart neckline. The second piece was a wide collar that connected down to billowy sleeves made from the same printed fabric. It was slightly shorter than what she was used to, but she had to admit that her legs looked amazing especially because of the lift her chunky Mary Jane was giving her.

“I don’t know he flirts with you every time you’re together,” Sanji said standing up from his seat.

“He’s a fuckboy, Sanji, that’s what fuckboys do,” Himiko argued, as they stood side-by-side.

“I guess I just hope him flirting with you doesn’t affect your whole DILF situation,” Sanji said.

“Why would it?” Himiko asked.

“Aren’t you exclusive with the DILF’s?” he asked.

“Not exactly we never really nailed down whether or not we’re exclusive. Last time we talked about it we agreed it was too early for that kind of commitment. We’re more in a wait-and-see-if-it-comes-up kind of situation.” She explained.

“Okay, just let me know if he makes you uncomfortable at all,” Sanji said as they posed for a mirror selfie.

“Okay,” Himiko agreed as she snapped a photo and posted it on her Instagram and snap story. After they were done, they grabbed the empty glasses of wine and joined Nami and Vivi in the living room. A smile stretched across her face as she took in their outfits. They had matching two-piece outfits in black and white. They had swapped tops so that their outfits were mix-matched. The outfits consisted of a tight long-sleeved lace crop top paired with a tight skirt and heels.

“Aw, you guys look great,” Himiko greeted them.

“Thanks, hopefully the matching outfits will make us look like a couple,” Vivi said.

“It sucks that every time we go out it doesn’t occur to men that you’re a fem for fem couple.” Himiko agreed.

“I don’t know I’m hoping it dissuades enough men so that they don’t bother us, but also leaves enough to buy us drinks,” Nami said.

“I mean tonight’s on me, so you don’t have to worry about that,” Himiko replied.

“Yeah, Himiko’s Daddy tonight,” Sanji said jokingly, causing Himiko to roll her eyes. She pulled out her phone to check the time when a text came in from Zoro saying that they were leaving downtown and heading up to meet them in center city.

“Kay the guys are leaving Zoro and Luffy’s apartment now.” She relayed.

“Do we want to do one more round of shots before heading out? It’ll probably take us just as long to get there since 3/4 of us are wearing heels.” Nami said.

“Yeah, it’s also for the best we get there at the same time. We don’t want a repeat of last time where we went in separate and not all of the guys got to go in right away.” Himiko agreed.

“Ugh, don’t remind me, me and Usopp had to wait over an hour in the cold because they were at the ‘male capacity’” Sanji sighed.

“At least we’re all over 21 now, so it’s not like we have to worry about being caught,” Vivi said.

“True,” Himiko agreed as Nami lined up four shots of cheap whiskey. They each picked up one before toasting.

“To the DILFs,” Nami said raising her shot. Himiko rolled her eyes playfully at Vivi and Sanji seconded Nami before she took the shot. Himiko bit her tongue to stop herself from grimacing at the alcohol. She always hated the cinnamon aftertaste. It always reminded her of the stomach aches she used to get after eating too many red hots as a kid.

“Everyone ready?” Sanji asked, grabbing his jacket.

“Yeah,” Himiko said sliding on her jacket and grabbing her clutch. The quartet made their way down to the street and headed three blocks north to the club. Nami and Himiko led the way as Sanji walked arm-in-arm with Vivi behind them. Vivi could normally handle walking in heels, but the combination of booze and poor city maintenance of the sidewalks left her stumbling.

“So, how are you doing?” Nami asked, bumping shoulders with Himiko.

“Good, I’m so happy to finally be done with this semester.” She replied.

“How are the DILFs?” Nami asked.

“Good, Shanks has off tomorrow so I’m going to head up to help him get everything sorted and packed for the trip,” Himiko answered.

“You’re leaving Sunday morning, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Himiko nodded, “We’re going to the hospital gala the night before,”

“You’re going separate to that right?” Nami asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be going as Zoro’s date. Mihawk said it was fine as long as we are discreet. We already agreed I’ll be taking a separate car back to their place so we can leave first thing in the morning.” She answered, “How have you been?”

“Good, I’m also elated that the semester is over. Though I am going back to working 5-6 days a week until winter breaks over.” Nami answered.

“Taking advantage of all the rich people’s generous tips?” Himiko asked as they approached the line into the club.

“Always,” Nami answered with a smile, “Though I do wish I saw you more, I feel like I have to make an appointment to see you.”

“Aw, I’m sorry Nom,” Himiko said sincerely. “I promise I’ll try to make more time for us.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it Ko,” Nami said as they crossed the street. They easily spotted the guy’s group by Luffy flailing his arms to get their attention. Himiko bit her lip when she spotted Ace in the back of the cluster. She could only see his hat from her vantage point, but there was no mistaking his cowboy hat.

“Hey, guys!” Luffy shouted as they got into earshot of each other. They configured themselves in groups of 3 as quickly as you would expect 9 buzzed 20-somethings to take. Himiko tried to brace herself as she got paired up with Sabo and Ace in the end of the line. Ace’s gaze hadn’t left her since they arrived.

“How’s your girlfriend doing Sabo?” Himiko asked politely as they waited.

“Koala’s good she has one more final tomorrow, or she’d be here.” He responded.

“That sucks,” She replied sympathetically.

“Yeah, we’ll probably go out again tomorrow night before she has to head home for the break.” He responded.

“How have you been?”  Ace asked, pulling Himiko’s attention to him. She bit her lip to hold back a shiver. His voice was deeper than she remembered.

“Fine,” She answered, “Just happy to finally be on winter break. How are you?”

“Good, I’m in the accelerated program at the law school. So, I don’t really get a break.”  He responded as they made their way up the line.

“That’s rough,” Himiko replied.

“Yeah, but I knew what I was doing when applied. I know if I took the standard three years, I’d get restless during breaks.” He replied. Their attention snapped to the front of the line before Himiko had to make any more small talk. Himiko peered around the line and saw the commotion. A group of at least 6 girls were being turned away. Even from Himiko’s vantage point, she could easily see that they were underage. If their baby faces weren’t a giveaway them opting not to wear jackets was. Not using the coat check was a mistake only teenagers would make on a 20-degree night. The line started to move quickly once the girls realized there was no way they were getting in. Before Himiko knew it the bouncer was letting them in after charging Ace and Sabo.

They hurried to check their coats before climbing the stairs up to the club’s main floor. The ground floor of the club had three bars meshed with the walls. A DJ was occupying the last wall up on a stage. There were standing tables scattered near the bars around the perimeter of the dance floor. That was all standard for center city warehouse clubs, what made this club special was the raised lofts above the first floor that were occupied with different games. One was dedicated to darts, another had mini bowling, but the last was the reason that Himiko always came back. It held three pool tables where she had hustled the most money she’d ever gotten as a pool shark.

Himiko led the way through the crowd to the bar that was closest to the stairs leading to the pool loft. She spotted the Sanji as he raised his arm to wave them over. She could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear anything over the overwhelming beat of the bass. She handed Nami her card before she and Vivi headed to the bar with Zoro to get the first round of drinks. After the first two rounds of shots, Himiko switched to slipping on a rum and coke while the others continued to drink on. Vivi and Nami pulled her from the table to dance before she could finish her drink. She slid it to Luffy to watch it. She couldn’t contain her laugh as she saw him immediately down the drink. It had been so long since they had gone out together that she forgot that Luffy’s philosophy was that if he was going to watch a drink it was safest in his stomach. She grabbed Sanji’s hand who in turn grabbed Usopp’s hand as the couple dragged her to the dance floor. The group of five carved out a space on the dance floor as they rocked their bodies to the beat of the song. Himiko danced between Usopp and Sanji while Vivi and Nami danced together a few feet away. Himiko could feel the tension of the semester ease out of her muscles as she let loose with her friends. She danced freely for a while until her feet started to protest. She pulled back from the crowd on the dance floor and headed back to their table with Sanji. She debated whether she should drink until she no longer felt the pain in her feet or if she was done dancing for the night.

She opted to order another rum and coke before making her way up to the pool loft above them. She leaned over the railing on the side of the loft as she did a mental check on everyone in her group. She crossed Nami and Vivi off the list as she watched them continue to dance with each other. A smile tugged on her lips as she took them in, she was so happy that Nami found someone who made her happy. Her eyes roamed over the crowd until she spotted Usopp who had found someone else to dance with. Next, she spotted Zoro and Sanji making out in the corner drawing a huff of a laugh from her. She finally looked down and saw Sabo and Luffy at their table, she paused before glancing around for Ace. Before she could do a proper scan of the dance floor a voice interrupted from her left causing her to almost drop her drink.

“Looking for someone?” She heard him ask leaning against the railing next to her close enough that their arms were brushing together.

“What do you want Portgas?” She turned to ask him after she recovered from fright.

“Nothing,” he said looking down at her, “Just thought you might want some company while you make sure all your ducklings are in line.”

“So, you’ve just come up to keep me company?” she asked skeptically.

“Yeah, unless you want something else from me, sweetheart,” he answered smirking down at her.

“Yeah, no I’m too sober for that kinda mistake,” Himiko said shaking her head as she fixed her gaze on the crowd again.

“Ouch,” he said with a laugh, “I’ll have you know I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

“Oh, is that right?” she asked, doubt clear in her voice, as she looked up at him.

“Yes, I haven’t had a one-night stand for the entire fall semester,” Ace replied with a sense of pride clear in his voice.

“Congrats. Do you want a gold star for your effort?” she asked dryly.

“Sweetheart, I’d take just about anything you’d offer me,” He responded sincerely leaning down to her height so that his hat cast a shadow over both their faces. Himiko wasn’t sure if it was the booze, his charisma, or possibly a combination of both, but she actually felt herself start to unintentionally lean in.

“You just said you don’t have one-night stands anymore,” Himiko responded.

“That’s a streak I’d happily break for you,” he replied, making no move to pull back. She felt herself getting hot under his unwavering gaze.

“Oh, and what makes me so special?” she asked teasingly. She mostly said it to continue the volley of their conversation, but there was a small part of her that was genuinely curious why he always singled her out.

“Are you really going to make me say it?” he asked pulling back slightly, “Isn’t it enough just to know that I’ve been pining for you since the last time we were together?”

“Ace, it’s been almost three years, whatever torch you’ve been carrying for me has to be embers by now,” Himiko responded.

“You’d think that’d be true, but my biggest romantic fumble was not seriously pursuing you.” He replied, with a level of sincerity that Himiko didn’t know he possessed.

“There’s plenty of girls out there, why me?” she asked. They were now leaning so close together that they were sharing breaths.

“Only a fool would let go of someone as beautiful on the inside and out as you are.” He answered, their lips just barely grazing each other’s. His confession broke the single strand of resolve that was holding her back. She pressed up on her toes and closed the sliver of a gap between them. Her body reacted before her mind could process what was happening. He nipped at her bottom lip; she gasped in response allowing him to bully his tongue into her mouth. His hands rested firmly on her waist, pinning her between his chest and the railing. Her hand not holding her drink found its way up to the nape of his neck where she tugged at his hair pulling a deep groan from his chest. Himiko pressed a hand to his chest forcing them apart before he could deepen the kiss any further. Their breaths came out in light pants as they leaned their foreheads against each other.

“We can’t do this,” Himiko said looking up at him through her lashes.

“Why, not?” Ace asked making no movement to leave their embrace.

“How am I supposed to trust that you won’t spit the second after you cum?” she asked. She was shocked that she was able to even maintain this level of conversation. Between the kiss and alcohol, her brain was fuzzier than normal.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“I don’t know if I can handle that kinda of emotional risk right now,” Himiko responded.

“Give me a chance, let me earn it.” He said bordering on begging.

“Earn it?” Himiko asked, pulling back.

“Yeah, I’ll play you in any game here and if I win you give me a chance,” Ace replied.

“And if you lose?” she asked.

“You can have anything you’d like from me,” he answered.

“Anything?” she clarified.

“Yes,” Ace answered.

“Even your hat?” she asked, gauging how serious he was over this proposition.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, “If I win, we go on a date, if you win you can have my hat.”

Himiko paused for a moment before throwing back the rest of her drink.

“Okay,” she conceded.

“Okay,” Ace confirmed with a smile. Without any other prompting, she walked in a straight a line as she could to the wall where the pool cues were kept. She wasn’t at her normal level of confidence. If she knew she’d be playing pool for a wager she wouldn’t have had as much to drink as she had had. She was relying solely on the muscle memory she had been building up since she was a kid.

“Do you want to break?” she asked Ace as he pulled off the rack from around the balls.

“Lady’s first,” he answered. Himiko nodded as she set up the cue ball. She took a deep breath as she lined up her first shot. She took one more deep breath in as she pulled back and released it as she hit the white ball. The familiar clinks of the balls bouncing off each other calmed her nerves. To her luck, she had sunk two striped balls and one solid ball. It was dumb but she always felt like luck was in her favor when she got to be striped.

“I’m keeping striped,” she informed Ace as she walked around the table and examined it. She opted to go for a lone striped ball first that was on the opposite side from the 8-ball. She let out a sigh of relief as the ball just barely dropped into the pocket. She sank one more ball before her luck left her. Her third attempt went nowhere; the ball she had tried to line up bounced against the side an inch away from the side pocket. The only silver lining was that she hadn’t hit any of the solid balls. She still had to sink three more striped balls and the 8-ball to beat Ace. That was unless Ace hit the 8-ball that was currently surrounded by solid balls. He took a strategic move and broke up the clump his balls surrounding the 8-ball. Himiko sighed as she missed again, allowing him to immediately have his turn again. He was able to sink two balls before he accidentally knocked one of her balls into a corner pocket. Himiko took a deep breath before lining up her next shot.

 A quiet had fallen over them, as their attention was fully focused on the game at hand. The steady beat of the music below was the only thing that could be heard. She was able to sink one ball on her first move, but her second shot didn’t lead anywhere. Even though she wasn’t sure what outcome she wanted she was determined to play to the best of her ability. In her tipsy mindset, it made perfect sense to leave it up to the fate of the game. She only had to sink one more ball and the 8-ball to win. She worried her bottom lip as Ace was able to hit two more of his balls into the pockets. He was now only one ball away from Himiko’s lead. The next few shots were throwaways for both of them. She was finally able to sink the last striped ball before turning her attention back to the 8-ball. She took a deep breath as she lined up the shot. It was going to be tricky because one of Ace’s balls was sitting in the way. She went for a risky maneuver that would be easy if she was sober, but incredibly hard in her current state. Her risk paid off as the ball bounced from one wall to the other and sunk the 8-ball and then one of Ace’s last two balls. By the time she looked up from the table Ace was passing her. He placed his hat on her head before making his way down to the main floor. Himiko quickly followed behind, but she immediately lost him in the crowd.

She circled back to the table where the crew was having another round of shots. Despite her better judgment she joined them and had a few more drinks to avoid the conflicted feelings brewing inside of her. It worked as the edge of her vision became fuzzy and she was once again dragged to the dance floor by Nami.

MASTER LIST

***

A deep groan escaped Himiko as she flinched away from the bright light of the sun shining through the window. She sat up from her pillow on the floor, aka Zoro’s stomach, and grimaced at the taste of her morning breath. She picked up her phone that was vibrating on the floor next to her. Her eyes immediately widened as she took in the missed texts from the DILFs, along with two missed calls from Shanks and a DM request from Ace Portgas. Himiko held her head in her hands and groaned as she tried to remember what happened the night before.

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A/N: Hey, I hope you enjoyed the latest update. I will hopefully be able to update this fic soonish; I only have three more weeks of classes this semester. A Rose's Thorn babes I haven't forgotten about that fic; I'm just kinda on a roll with this one. Thank you all so much as always for taking the time to read this,

-Locke

[new-rosecity]

now that the live action little mermaid is coming out soon i have a massive bone to pick with disney live action remakes

first off i truly do not believe that a movie that is 90% cgi can be counted as "live action" even if it is made with realism in mind *cough cough lion king* , cgi is a form of animation. it is literally computer-generated imagery

any how i must say i do really enjoy the Cinderella remake. i think it's less because it comes off as a remake of a beloved animated classic, but because of the way it stands as its own movie. sure it takes inspiration from the original (in my opinion the way i remake should be made rather than shot-for-shot) but it also adds more from the original fairy tale. The beauty of Cinderella (2015) is the development of all its characters. We see cinderellas journey through the grief of losing both her parents and the hope she still seems to have much more than in the original. Not only this we see the prince's character rather than him as plot device to complete the fairy tale. In many other disney remakes they chose to give us a sympathetic villain, in a way they take this approach in Cinderella but it becomes less of a change in character but a depth to the character and explanation for her cruel nature. One of the things i enjoy most about the remake is the costumes and environment, the costumes mimic the time period Cinderella takes place in but still has inspiration from the 1950's like the animated original, the colours of the costumes make sense for each character the transition of Cinderella's powder blue apron when she waits hand and foot on her step mother to the vibrant blue she wears at the ball. It makes sense. I wont claim it's a perfect movie, i have criticisms. mostly to tight lace lily james' corset. There are other "live action" remakes, like the first alice in wonderland and the 1996 101 dalmations but they jest get worse and worse.

I think my main qualms with the newer remakes is their approach to remake the movies as a direct mirror of the animated originals, on of my main reasons for liking both Cinderella (2015) but alice in wonderland (2010) is that the expand on the animated original by taking more inspiration from the original fairy tale (be it tone or story) and developing the characters to have more depth and character. I think the other thing that makes me enjoy the other movies than the newer remakes is the costuming. the costumes make sense for the characters and time period inspirations, they feel like elevated versions of the animations. The costumes are one of the many reasons i dislike Beauty and the beast (2017) they just dont make sense for the time period or belles character, the colours are mis matched and drown out belle in scenes in the village.

My biggest grievance of the newer remakes is the changes in the tone of the story. Specifically in Beauty and the beast (2017) and Mulan (2020) they shoe-horn a message of superficial feminism in ironically two of the more feminist disney tales, i say this not in a way to show a hatred for feminism as if we dont need it but it breaks the tone in both movies, the change in Mulan removes the moral of the original showing that women have the ability to be just as powerful as men and be a hero but changes it to a story of being your true self, a nice message but not one that matches the rest of the story.

I have yet to talk about Aladdin (2019) mostly because i generally enjoy it as a movie but my criticism out weighs my praise, this is mostly the decision to mimic the whimsical animation of the original, that could only be displayed in animation, and do it in cgi. I wish they could have found a way to create the same emotion from the visual gags and magical carpet ride in a live action retelling like you get from theatre and practical effects. They had the option to take the story in a different route by focusing on jasmine's character (like they seemed to want to do but it fell flat because they still wanted to recreated the animated original) or perhaps take a different turn by taking more inspiration from the original tale.

I just dont see the appeal of recreating a movie without improving or trying something new with the story telling it feels dull. I am aware i sound quite pretentious in all my criticisms but i enjoy animation and the disney movies i grew up watching, it doesn't mean i cant enjoy well made and loved live action movies but when theyre just rehashing something they've already made with newer fancier tools it feels shitty. Cgi can be such an amazing tool but it's not a replacement for practical effects or cartoon animation it's something different and could be treated that way if people let it and actually payed the people who work on it for the amount they deserve.

Any way i do hope the new little mermaid doesnt disappoint too much, it'll probably be fine

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Resurrect Me: Part 2 (N.R.)

Part One

Huge shoutout to @confusinggemini612 who requested this a loooong time ago and I’m just now getting to it (I am so sorry for the wait). I hope this is what you had in mind :)

Warnings: swearing; PTSD; mentions of suicide/self-sacrifice

Word count: 2.6k

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

The cool breeze blows through my hair, the hand in mine being the only source of warmth in the chill of the Russian countryside. As we walk closer, a chorus of pigs snorting fills my ears. Natasha had given me a brief rundown and a quick pep talk before taking me to meet her family. Now, it was game time.

“Are you ready?”

“Not in the slightest,” I respond to the redhead.

“Let’s do it then,” she says with a smirk, to which I reply with a scoff.

We walk through the gate and enter the small house, immediately hearing three distinct voices, each laced with a thick Russian accent. The voices hush as the door closes behind us, and a blonde woman is the first to greet us.

“Ah, сестра! Mom and Dad are flirting again, let’s make a run for it,” Yelena whisper-yells.

“So put a sedative in their vodka or something, I don’t know,” Natasha replies. I’m not sure if I should introduce myself or not, so I just stand there awkwardly.

“They are both spies, they’re not going to fall for- actually, Alexei would, but Mom would never fall for that,” Yelena pauses as she notices me. She looks me from head to toe and squints before her lips quirk into a smirk. “And who might this be? Is this your little girlfriend?”

“Yelena, don’t be an ass,” Nat grumbles with a scowl.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yelena hums before turning back to Natasha. “She’s definitely your girlfriend.”

“Oh shut up,” Natasha whines, walking further into the house. I look at Yelena and nod in confirmation before following Nat. I hear her whisper “I knew it” from behind me, causing me to laugh. Natasha turns to give me a questioning look, but I just brush it off with a shrug and a smirk. She narrows her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by a deep, booming voice.

“Natasha! Welcome home! Look at this, all my girls back together again! It is so nice to see you,” Alexei says, moving forward to pinch Natasha’s cheeks. She gently pushes him away with a scowl, and I can’t tell if she’s really uncomfortable or not. Either way, it brings my guard up, ready to defend her.

“And who might this be?” Alexei questions, turning to face me.

“Dad, this is Y/N,” she says before I can answer. I offer a kind smile.

Yelena, who had made her way to the kitchen table with a bottle of vodka, says “She’s Natasha’s girlfriend.”

“Thank you for the input, Yelena,” Natasha says with a tight-lipped smile.

“Girlfriend, huh? When did that happen? Natasha, I was not aware that you, uh, how do you say? Swing that way?” A dark-haired woman slaps his arm for his comment and he exclaims, “Ow!”

“Pay him no mind, Natasha. He is a bit slow, but Mama always knew. You were not very discreet about the way you looked at that Hannah girl in Ohio. And as for you, it is nice to meet you. I’m Melina, what is your name?” Her demeanor is friendly, but her gaze is skeptical. She’s probably already planning how to kill me if she decides that I’m not good enough for her daughter.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say with a nervous smile.

“Alright, guys, that’s enough. Please stop harassing my girlfriend,” Natasha says with a sigh.

“Come, sit,” Yelena commands with a wave, still sitting at the kitchen table.

I sit across from her and Natasha sits next to me. Melina and Alexei follow soon after, with Alexei sitting at the head of the table and Melina sitting next to Yelena.

“Here you go,” Yelena says as she slides me a shot glass full of vodka. I clink it against hers in the air and down it in one go, grimacing at the burn. “Are you alright?” Yelena asks with a smirk, clearly enjoying my agony.

“Oh, yeah, I’m great. Just not used to Russian vodka, that’s all.” Yelena nods, satisfied with my answer, before going to pour me another shot.

Natasha stops her by saying, “Yelena, no more vodka. You’re going to kill her.”

“You’re no fun,” the younger sister says, but complies, nonetheless.

“Natasha, you are slouching again. Sit up straight,” Melina interjects.

“Mom, I’m not slouching. I told you I don’t slouch,” Nat protests.

“So how did you two meet?” Yelena asks, interrupting the banter.

“Oh, we met in New York during the invasion, when the Avengers were formed,” I answer.

“You are an Avenger! I knew you looked familiar. Tell me, does Captain America ever mention me, the great Red Guardian? I could kick his ass, you know. I’ve done it before,” Alexei says, causing the three Russian women to groan and complain.

“That never happened, Dad,” Yelena mumbles at the same time Natasha says, “He doesn’t talk about you because you guys have never met.” 

I raise my eyebrows at them. They seem awfully familiar with this conversation; how often does Alexei say this crap?

“So, Y/N. What happened when you guys brought everyone back? How did you do it? Natasha won't tell me,” Yelena questions. I chuckle nervously, glancing at Natasha, who is clearly uncomfortable with this topic of discussion.

“Um, I don’t know if I should… It’s complicated, really,” I say, trailing off.

“Yelena, stop. It doesn’t matter. And don’t put her in the middle of things,” Natasha responds, defending me. An awkward silence fills the room until Alexei speaks up again.

“He really hasn’t mentioned me? Have you even asked him about me?”

<//>

“Why won’t you tell them what happened?” I ask quietly. It’s nighttime now, and I’m lying in bed next to Nat in the guest room. She seemed so uncomfortable, and it’s been worrying me since.

“They just don’t need to know,” she replies shortly

“But they got snapped away, Natty. Don’t you think they deserve more of an explanation than what they’ve seen on the news?”

“Don’t tell me what to do with my family, Y/N.” Her sharp tone feels like a blade to the heart, but I take a deep breath and soften my resolve, knowing that she’s only snapping at me because something else is upsetting her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push. I just, I can tell that something is upsetting you. You can’t just bottle stuff up, Nat. It doesn’t have to be me if you’re not comfortable, but you need to talk to someone about it.”

She doesn’t respond immediately. “I’ve told them. I gave them the basics: Thanos snapped people away, we time traveled, got magical stones, snapped people back, and then killed Thanos. That satisfied my parents, but Yelena wants to know the whole story.”

“And you’re not comfortable retelling it?”

“Parts of it are bearable, but… I can’t think about it. You almost killed yourself for me, Y/N. You did die for me. I can’t think about that day, let alone tell my baby sister about it,” she says. Her voice is quiet, breaking as the tears flood her eyes. I pull her head into my chest and run my fingers through her hair.

“I’m right here, Natty. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You don’t have to tell anyone about what happened. I was terrified of losing you on Vormir. I hate talking about it, too.”

“Is that why you went to Dr. Garcia?”

“Partly. There were other reasons, too.” I hesitated before continuing. “I kept hearing the tortured screams. When I slept, in my head, everywhere I went. I heard them all the time. And I would get random whiffs of burning flesh. As you know, I went to the Underworld when I ‘died’ and I guess it just affected me more than I had originally thought.”

“Angel, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, or freak you out. The whole thing was pretty weird. For a while, I honestly thought I was haunted. It was probably pretty selfish, but I didn’t wanna scare you away.”

“You could never scare me away. But just to be clear, you aren’t haunted, right?”

I laugh quietly. “No, I am not haunted. A mild case of PTSD, but I’m doing better now. The therapy helped a lot.”

“Do you think it would help me? I still get nightmares sometimes...of you going over that cliff. I just, I close my eyes and you’re gone, and I hate it.”

“I’m so sorry, my love. I hate how much pain I’ve caused you. But I do think it would help. We can find someone when we get back home, yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Natty.”

<//>

“Just do it! It will be fun! I will go easy, I swear,” Yelena begs.

“Okay, fi-”

“No! No way in Hell. You are not sparring with her,” Natasha argues.

“I’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, she kicks my ass,” I say.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure the worst case scenario would be if I accidentally killed you,” Yelena says flatly. “But that won’t happen! Please, Natasha. I want to see what she’s got,” she pleads with a pout.

Natasha sighs and rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath about us being a bunch of children. “Fine, but if you so much as scratch her-”

“Y/N will be fine. Come on,” Yelena says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the backyard.

Thirty minutes later, I’m flat on my back in the grass, wheezing. I groan as I attempt to sit up, the whole world spinning as I do.

“Yelena! What the hell did I say?! You literally threw her,” Natasha yells.

“No, no. I’m good,” I say weakly.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting her to be so...defenseless.”

“I am not defenseless,” I counter.

“You cannot even throw a punch,” the blonde deadpans.

“That doesn’t make her defenseless,” Nat says as she helps me to my feet. “She could take every single one of you out right now without even moving.” 

From a few feet away, Melina quirks an eyebrow and Alexei mumbles “she could not take me out.”

“You are delusional, Natasha. How are we supposed to trust this woman to protect you when she cannot even protect herself?” 

“She can protect both of us just fine, Yelena. Not that I need anyone’s protection.”

“Your sister has a point,” Melina tells Nat. “Sorry, Y/N,” she adds. I open my mouth to speak, but don’t even know what to say. This is my worst nightmare.

“You must be able to punch when you are in trouble! Much like I did to Captain America back in the day,” Alexei adds.

“Alright, enough. I’ll have you know that Y/N is one of the most powerful Avengers. Actually, she’s a literal goddess,” Natasha snaps.

“Well, of course you would think so. You are her girlfriend,” Melina says.

“Guys, I’m being serious!”

“Do not get snappy with us. We are just looking out for you,” Alexei says.

“I don’t need-”

“Somebody has to be there to keep you safe, and this girl could not bring harm to a plant,” Melina remarks. 

“I’m literally standing right here,” I mumble under my breath.

“She literally saved my life! How is that not keeping me safe?!” My eyes widen; what happened to not revealing that tidbit of information?

“What do you mean? You saved her life?” Yelena asks as she turns to address me.

“If it wasn’t for her, I would be dead right now. And you guys never would’ve come back,” Natasha retorts, clenching her jaw.

“What? Why? What happened,” Yelena rambles. I can see the worry etched on her face, and it makes her look oddly childlike. It almost makes me want to pull her into a hug, but I’m fairly certain she’d throat punch me if I tried.

“On a planet called Vormir. A life needed to be sacrificed to get one of the Infinity Stones. It was me, Clint, or Y/N. I tried, but Y/N stopped me. That’s what I mean.” Natasha is seething. She clearly didn’t appreciate her family’s doubts.

“You tried to kill yourself?” Yelena addresses Natasha, but no one has the chance to answer her before Melina speaks up.

“If you sacrificed yourself, then how are you here?”

“It’s complicated,” I say with hesitance. “I am technically a goddess. I have many different powers, but most of them deal with death. When I died, I went to the Underworld, where I met my mother, Hecate, who is a goddess. Then, I came back. Resurrection is one of my powers. I know it’s a lot to take in, but that’s the truth.”

It’s silent for a minute as everyone processes my words. Everyone is staring at me with bewilderment, except for Yelena, who hasn’t taken her eyes off of her sister. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and a deep frown rests upon her lips.

“You tried to kill yourself?” Yelena repeats, this time only a whisper. Natasha finally turns to look at her younger sister and her mouth bobs open and closed, seemingly unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t have a choice, Yelena,” Natasha finally says.

“You saved her?” the blonde asks me.

I hesitantly nod my head. “Yes, I guess I did.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, giving a curt nod before turning and walking mechanically back into the house. I awkwardly clear my throat and turn my gaze to the ground.

“Will you show us?” I raise my head to look at Alexei, confusion crossing my features at his request. “Will you show us your powers, I mean.”

“Dad…” Natasha warns.

“No, it’s okay. I can show you a little bit,” I say, right before teleporting away. I watch from a hill in the distance as Alexei looks frantically around him. I can hear him asking where I went, which makes me laugh.

I teleport into the house and walk around, looking for Yelena. I walk into a bedroom and find her sitting on the floor with a bottle of vodka. “Hey, are you okay? We didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m fine. Because learning that your sister almost died and there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it is so much fun,” she scoffs.

“I’m sorry. We probably could’ve broken the news a bit softer.” I sit on the ground next to her, leaving about a foot of space between us.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Don’t be. I am a horrible fighter,” I joke. She chuckles slightly, nodding in agreement.

“That you are. Can I see some of your magic, or whatever it is?” I hold out my hand and black mist dances above it with eerie elegance. I close my fist as it fades away, lowering my hand.

“Cool,” she says with a crooked smile. We hear the front door open and three sets of footsteps entering the house. I hear Nat calling my name.

“You okay?” I check one last time.

“I’m good. Thank you, Y/N, for saving my sister.”

“I’d do anything for her, Yelena. You don’t have to thank me for it.”

The bedroom door opens and Natasha’s head pokes in. “Y/N, we thought you’d completely left for a minute. Everything okay in here?”

Yelena and I look at each other and I look back to Natasha, overwhelmed with love for the redead. I smile and say, “Yeah, everything is just fine.”

[nctsjiho]

Dive Into You

warnings: strong langue

era: summer 2020

❀ When the members find themselves in a less than ideal situation Mark has to assert his dominance over the younger members in some way

“Guys~ I think I have some bad news.” The car engine sputtered a few times causing the 4 boys to look at JiHo with worried expressions. “What’s that?” Renjun asked, who was sat in the passenger’s seat next to JiHo. He watches as JiHo’s lips turn into a tight-lipped smile and the cars starts going slower, and slower, until it ultimately reaches a complete stand still. “So we might have run out of gas.”

The boys in the back seat groan, unable to process the situation they were currently in. “How?! You said we’d be fine on gas!” Renjun immediately fired at her. “Excuse you, we would’ve been okay if we stopped at the gas station earlier, but you suck at giving directions so guess where we didn’t go.” She didn’t make eye contact with the boy, only staring out in front of her, her voice laced with an extremely sarcastic mocking tone.

“Uh-uh.” Renjun pushed himself up from his comfortable position in the seat to face JiHo completely. “Maybe it’s you who sucks at taking directions!” “No I don’t.” “You totally do!” Before the two could go on with their childish back and forth Mark put his hand between the two young adults – how are these kids adults already? “Let’s not, okay? Whoever’s fault it is, we’re here now and we need to find a way to get back home.”

Renjun sighs and plops himself back in his seat, but not without Jiho noticing the exaggerated roll of his eyes which she gladly mimics. “Well it’s definitely JiHo’s fault.” The Chinese member mumbles. However the rest of the car clearly heard it and they all groan. “You’re such a child.” The girl scoffed and then turned her head to look outside of the window.

It’s quiet for a few minutes in the front of the car, while Mark, Haechan and Jeno contemplate their options. Since they were stranded in the middle of nowhere, they didn’t have any reception on their phones and most of them were on the brink of dying. “We’re doomed!” Haechan cried out in stress to which Mark just tried to comfort him with a small pat on his thigh.

“Well we know who we have to thank for this.” “Can you quit it. I’m sorry, okay? But it’s not only my fault.” JiHo was clearly getting ticked off by Renjun’s behaviour. “We know JiHo. It’s okay, maybe a car will pass by us and they can help us.” Mark tried to lighten up the mood. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen another car though.” Jeno muttered to - what was just supposed to be – himself, yet the small confinement, the car, they were in made it so everyone could hear. “Thanks Jeno, I’m sure that’s what we all wanted to hear right now.” Haechan said through gritted teeth to which Jeno quickly apologised.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gotten into this car with you-“ “Oh my God! You are being insanely annoying right now! Do you even hear yourself?” JiHo’s last ounce of patience ran out at yet another unnecessary remark from the boy next to her. “I know we’re all sensitive from this heat and the situation we’re in but let’s be nice-“ Mark tried to reason, but got completely ignored instead. “I was sure I was going to die, but I didn’t expect it to be this way.” “Have you ever considered becoming an actor? Drama seems to be a great fit for you.” JiHo spat venomously. “Have you? Comedy seems right up your ally.” Renjun sent her an equally venomous smile.

“You know? If you knew how to properly drive, this wouldn’t have happened.” “I’ve had my licence since I was 18 and no one has ever complained about my driving skills.” The fighting continued. Haechan and Jeno already tuned themselves out of the argument, the heat getting to their heads and making them slightly dizzy.

“Maybe everyone was just to scared to tell you the truth.” “Huang Renjun, if you say one more thing, I’ll swear I’ll-“ JiHo threatened, pointing her finger at the boy who just raised one brow and stared at her mockingly. “Both of you!” Mark suddenly yelled, catching everyone off guard.

The four 00 liners watched as Mark took a second to calm his ragged breathing. “Hyung?” Jeno tapped the older boy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” Renjun asked. As a response he was met with Mark opening his eyes and shooting daggers through them at him and his female friend – maybe not in this particular situation, but on good days they were definitely great friends. “Get out of the car.” The boy said in a dangerously low voice. “But-“ “GET OUT NOW!”

Renjun and JiHo quickly got out of the car, instantly getting hit by the intense rays of the sun. Ever since the car had stopped working it was still cool inside, the air conditioner had been working up until that point, so getting outside they were hit by reality. Luckily there was still a nice, strong, cool breeze that soothed their already burning skin.

Inside the car Haechan and Jeno watched the older boy with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” Haechan asked carefully. He would never admit it, but in that particular moment, Haechan was slightly scared of Mark. “It’s really hot outside. Hyung-“ “Jeno, get in the driver’s seat.” Mark eyed the boy who without a word complied and crawled out of the car. Mark followed suit.

“Hyung! The sun’s burning me. What do you want us to do outside?” As soon as Renjun’s eyes caught Mark getting out of the car, he complained with a visible pout on his lips. His eyes followed the older boy’s figure walking to the door of the passenger’s seat. “What-“ Renjun stuttered, completely dumbfounded.

“You two-“ He pointed at Renjun and then at JiHo. “-push.” Mark opened the door and just as he was about to climb into his seat he heard multiple complaints and cries from the two younger members. “I can’t even see the next exit or stop from here. Until when do you want us to push?” JiHo asked exasperated. “Just push until anyone’s phone gets enough reception to call for help, or until we see another car pass by.”

Mark now had one foot into the car when another question halted him. “What if neither works out?” JiHo was a bit more careful with her tone now. She realised that they had really pushed Mark’s patience and it was of no use to continue to fight back. “Then you’ll push until we get to the next stop.” “Hyung?” Renjun quickly yelled before Mark could close the door. “Can’t Jeno or Haechan help? JiHo isn’t the strongest if you know what I mean-“ “Shut it, stick boy.” JiHo hissed earning a glare from the boy.

The oldest sighed. “Jeno is in the driver’s seat and Haechan needs to keep an eye out on his phone. His has the most battery.” “And you?” Renjun mumbled. “I am gonna close this door so I don’t have to hear you anymore and then I’m going to close my eyes and take a nap. I have a headache because of you.”

Without giving Renjun a chance to say anything, Mark closes the door harshly leaving Renjun standing in the blaring sun flustered. His head snaps up when he heard JiHo snicker. “Not gonna lie, but Mark really got you with that one.” “Oh shut up. You know he was talking about both of us.” Renjun made his way over to JiHo who was ready to start pushing the car. “I only heard ‘you’. Not ‘you both’ or ‘the two of you’.” She beamed, shaking her body in a playful way. The sight eased Renjun’s tense body just a tad, he couldn’t believe JiHo was being so upbeat even after getting scolded and punished by their older member. She was really something else.

“Hey you two! Start pushing!” Renjun and JiHo looked up to see Haechan peek his head out of the car window. “Yah! Haechan!” Renjun tried his best not to swear at the boy who was already getting on his nerves. “I suggest you don’t look straight in front of you then.” JiHo giggled. The boy was slightly confused but as he did just what she told him not to do it was clear to him that JiHo could absolutely read his mind.

Haechan was perched up on his knees on the back seat of the car facing the back and staring at the two pushing the car. He sent them teasing glances, clearly amused by how the situation panned out. “That loser.” “I don’t think you get to call him that when we’re here, outside, pushing a car in the middle of nowhere.” JiHo reminded him and the boy sighed. “You’re right. I guess.”

After about 2 minutes of pushing the car in silence Renjun spoke up. “Hey-“ He panted and JiHo turned to look at him. She saw how the strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead, sweat dripping down and pooling at his chin. “What’s up?” JiHo asked, her breath also uneven. “I’m sorry that I was so mean to you before. That was way out of line.” “Hey, it’s fine. We were all a bit sensitive because of this whole situation which is far from… ideal.” Renjun sighed and stopped pushing causing JiHo to lose her balance for a second. “Why did you stop?” She wiped the sweat of her forehead and looked at the boy.

“I hate when you do this.” “Do what?” Confusion washed over JiHo’s face. “You’re always the angel in these situations. Never really say anything wrong and always accept apologies so quickly.” JiHo chuckled at the way Renjun looked so defeated. “Want me to be meaner and not accept your apology?” This caused Renjun to roll his eyes and return to push the car. JiHo quickly got back as well to help him.

“That’s not what I meant.” “If it makes you feel any better, in my mind I was totally cursing you out and fully blaming you.” Renjun’s eyes widened almost comically and JiHo had to force herself not to laugh. “How is that supposed to make me feel better- Wait! I’m almost a full year older then you, you should be a bit more respectful-“ “Hey!” Before a new argument could break out Haechan’s voice sounded loudly.

“What? Did you get enough reception?” JiHo and Renjun quickly made their way to the door on Haechan’s side. “No, I just thought maybe we should take a picture real quick. So we have a way to commemorate this and retell this story in the future.” The two members who stood outside started to feel their blood boil. “Lee Haechan, I swear I’ll kill you.” Renjun threatened through gritted teeth.

 JiHo tried her hardest not to smile, she really did, but the situation was just too funny. “What are you laughing at huh?” JiHo turned her head to the left to see a sweaty Haechan glaring at her. “Nothing, nothing.” She snickered and faced away from the boy only to find Renjun having an equally as amused grin on his face. “Just keep pushing.” Haechan mumbled annoyed.

Suddenly Mark’s face appeared through the window from the passenger’s side of the car. “The three of you! Just shut up and push. I think the reception is getting stronger.” A second of silence. “Oh wait! Never mind.” He turned to look at the younger members, a sickly sweet smile appearing on his face. “Just keep pushing okay?”

---

Side note: There’s absolutely no correlation between the title and the story besides that there’s a car and it has the Dream members in it ^^

I loved writing this though, it’s a bit longer than usual since more inspiration kept coming while I was writing it. I hoped you liked it as much as I liked writing it!

I hope you have a nice day/evening/night <3 and depending on where you are, if you are also experiencing this insane heat, please stay hydrated and take care of yourself. Don’t just go out without protecting yourself from the sun! Renjun and JiHo were wearing sunscreen and Mark handed them enough cold water from the cooler they had in the back of the car <3

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VI — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

Coffee was not the only thing bitter this morning. An irritating three hours ago, Yoongi had been wrapping the final works of the—at least what he and everyone else in his team considered—a successful raid. Fourteen hours achingly squeezed through the exhaustion in his veins to bust this den and it was a popular one at that. Around ten dealers were arrested that night.

Only two got actual jail time. The only reason was because they both had companions with them that night under the age of eighteen and one of them was the culprit for a former models’ murder.

Other than that, the den was closed down to keep up appearances. Most of the dealers had the infamous phoenix tattoo to symbolize exactly who they were working for. However did they get enough proof to finally expose Jeon Jungkook?

Not a fucking chance.

He dragged himself into the precinct with a heavy head and tar-like coffee in his hand before slouching onto his chair. A sweet pile of files on his right which were happily ignored. Yoongi could also painfully notice that Namjoon was desperately trying not to ask him about the raid even though every twitch in his eye wanted otherwise.

Darkened and deep set eyes shot a slight glare at the younger male. “Go on.” He rasped.

Namjoon looked almost a little innocent with his huge glasses on staring at him like he was not so deathly obvious about his curiosity. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to so get it over with so you can cover for me while I take a fucking nap.” The older male patted the pile of files which was now going to the others’ responsibility solely because Yoongi had information Namjoon could not gain. If he could even call it decent information.

Clearing his throat, he leaned in closer resting his elbows on the table and forgetting whatever he was working at the computer. “What happened?” He whispered more enthusiastically now.

“Everything and nothing.” Yoongi seethed, anger burning through the unwavering heaviness of his body. “We checked all the stages. Did everything we needed to do and got more fucking eye witnesses than any task force has ever done. Except our captain decided it was the perfect time to act like a damn saint by letting most of them go on fucking technicalities.” Fingers curled up into tight fists just retelling the whole story. So much work had been placed to take this den down and for what? Sleepless nights and back to the square one?

His heart leaped a little for once hearing someone else verbalize the captains’ clear goal to ensure that Jungkook was never exposed again. “You know why they do it, right?”

The older male shook his head with a light stammer. Yoongi was the one who trained Namjoon in the field which was the only reason why he was assigned to be his partner over anyone else. He could always keep him in line. But now he worried whether there might be a dark truth laced in all his words. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves.” He muttered under his breath before taking a sip of his coffee.

Namjoon let out a small sigh of defeat glancing over at the precinct around them. It took any person with common sense to notice a few who were drowning their insides with coffee to stay awake after a failed raid. A small part almost felt relieved that others now knew the things he went through after his failed undercover mission. That knowledge something was wrong but you could not do anything about it. The curse of being part of a system which Jungkook already ruled since birth. “What can we do then?” He asked more to himself than the other.

“Yoongi…” Tapping of footsteps broke their conversation for a minute as one of the detectives, Minnie walked to their desks. “I need to talk to you. Both of you.” Her eyes flickered to the two men who stared at her in utter confusion.

The dark haired male peered at the woman through his fringe already noticing Namjoon stiffen at the sight of the detective. “What now? I’m not really in the mood for more disappointment.” Yoongi leaned back and tolerated the little glare the younger male gave him for speaking to Minnie in that manner.

“You’ll want to hear this. It’s a message from the big chair.” She muttered before turning on her heel to walk out of the building.

Namjoon immediately gave Yoongi a pleading look to go follow her, thighs bouncing in place out of his curiosity.

Yoongi kissed his teeth before averting his gaze in annoyance. “I’m too old for this shit.” He got up from the chair with his cooling coffee.

“You’re a year older than me.” His brows furrowed.

“I meant mentally.”

Out in the spring like air of the smoking zone, Minnie hugged a brown envelope as the two men walked out eying her in pure puzzle. Her nose flushed without her jacket but the nerves that built up in her body made it difficult to care. “I don’t know why they gave to me.” She shook her head. “I thought I was let off from this but—” The woman handed them the brown envelope.

Yoongis’ forehead remained permanently knitted as he accepted the envelope as Namjoon took his coffee from him carefully. He pulled out one single piece of paper. A hand-written letter.

‘I am fully aware of Mr. Jeons’ actions under the blanket of extortion and public sympathy. The raid was planned to be a publicity stunt to impress me somehow but I have been observing this world for as long as I can remember. The police force vows on survival. They want to protect their children from being taken, wives from being defiled. It’s every man and woman for themselves in front of this power. Unfortunately this means we must play the same game of deceit and secrecy to truly achieve the victory we all want.

Hence this letter to you. Gather a small team that you can rely your life on for this mission. There will be materials and sources given to you throughout the month and I suggest you find a dispassionate body whom you can trust to slither into the enemy crowds. There we shall begin the first careful steps to our goal.

Burn this letter as soon as it is read.

May God be with you.’

“Fucking Christ.” Yoongi whispered re-reading the letter ten times before finally understanding the sudden weight dropping on his head. The signature did not lie either. He had seen that so many times in recent weeks it was engraved in his mind at this point.

Minnie shook her head again, a mixture of fear and concern reflecting in her eyes. “I didn’t know who else to trust.” Gaze flickered from Yoongi and Namjoon who still were not able to formulate any kind of proper response. “I’ve already been to the rings undercover, I won’t be able to risk it. Namjoon got too close as well.”

Namjoon swallowed the small lump in his throat at the mere memory of his time deep inside the Jeon Cartel. As much as he wanted the glory of walking back to that place to make things right. It was too much risk. This time they were going against all the usual protocol that ever existed.

Only person left was one who had not truly been seen on the inside was—

“You’re shitting me.” Yoongi sighed out the words. He understood the stakes of spreading this information to far too many people. In fact even the man himself could not name anyone who could be more trustworthy than Namjoon and Minnie. Most of the precinct were hell bent on bruising their knees for the captain while some others preferred the older mayor. It was an unbreakable web of lies and unfair distribution.

“Sorry, Yoongi.” Minnie muttered.

“You did the right thing.” Namjoon quickly interjected. “Anyone else would’ve just shown this to the captain.” He nodded towards the letter.

Without another response, Yoongi pulled out his black lighter and flicked to expose the small flame. His eyes fixated on the bright shade of yellow a little dulled out from the daylight before touching the edge of the paper. He kept a hold of it until it was absolutely ensured that the erupting fire devoured every words. Throwing it in the bin, he sighed deeply when he stared at the two youngers. Whatever tired looseness his body adorned a while ago now faded away with a new anxiety. Not really anxiety but a concern. The results of their last raid did not exactly boost his self-esteem in being able to achieve a large feat. Digging his hands into his pockets, cool wind flowed through his black shirt making him shiver a little. “When do they want us to start?”

Minnie looked around for a moment; more a sign of precaution but a lot of the precinct would be stuck inside the building or on patrol. “There is an inside source who’s been working with the mayor for a few years now and they say that he’d be able to get you a pathway into the cartel.” She rubbed her arms to give herself some type of warmth from the air that only seemed get colder.

“What kind of a source?” Yoongi squinted his eyes. The mayor was not wrong in saying they were a regular in Jeons’ exposure to the public since they already had a solid source.

“I couldn’t get everything but you need to cut any outside ties this month onwards.”

He scoffed with a smile. “It’s cute you think I have other ties.”

-

A month had gone by before Belle could even take a few breaths. During work hours, it was easy to forget her personal life for several hours and just focus on seams linking with colours, blending into an assortment of something beautiful. Somehow the more perfect her works were the more she felt in control of the world around her.

Boyoung came in and out of the boutique to give her updates on the things that could be done about the cake, flowers or the general décor. Guest list had pretty much been determined by her save for Taehyung and Saito with a slightly awkward explanation of her parents’ death.

Today in the cool day Belle gazed at all the designs for the Sangria House mixed in with Spring Line. She opted to display all the Sangria House dresses towards the end during the fashion show so it could add a showstopper. The lavender one especially caught her eye already imagining Jimin wearing the get-up with some matching jeweled earrings. Dainty fingers brushed across the silk, a softened smile playing on her lips.

“Your first line.” Saitos’ voice broke her out of her little trance. “How does it feel?”

Belle looked over her shoulder to see the woman adorned in a similar lavender pant suit as she padded closer to the displays. “Terrifying.” She breathed out, the corners of her lips twitching up. “It feels like I’m jumping headfirst into cold water.” More like a vast ocean that was so deep that she might drown if she was not careful. Though she would dive into this pool any day.

“Speaking of diving headfirst.” The older woman smirked before the sound of something swishing touched Belle’s ear.

She fully turned around to see Saito hanging a covered outfit on rack before unzipping it down and pulling a pure white piece. A majestic dress bigger than any of the designs they had for the line, multiple georgette layers with slight elegant frills at the ends, a diamond encrusted waist line with a sweetheart neck. The whole piece was simple without any extra glitz and glamour aside from the waist.

“What do you think?”

Belle breathed out a chuckle, eyes not being able to tear away from the dress despite the simple look. “It’s beautiful. What’s this for?” Wide eyes searched the older womans’ expression who merely laughed at the girl.

“Well what else? It’s your wedding dress. If you want anyway.” She shrugged, her gaze now trailing down the long length before fixing the fabric a little so it displayed perfectly. “It’s a little simple I know but if Boyoung told me earlier when the wedding was going to be, I would’ve worked on it a bit more.” Saito spoke about it in such a casual manner.

Little did she realize the jolt of tears flooding in Belle’s eyes when she heard that the other designed and made this whole dress for her. “You made this for me?” She whispered, a small droplet threatening to fall down her cheek.

No one asked Saito to do so nor was she forced to make one either. But the woman did it anyway without any prize in return. She did not ask for her body or her mind as a way to repay her actions. Just an act of kindness.

“Actually I did it so you could do something for me.” She pouted a little before glancing around the boutique longingly. “I can’t have this boutique forever and I’m not exactly getting younger either.” She chuckled, patting the work table like it was her first born child. “Do you mind taking care of her? After I’m retired?”

Belle’s heart almost sank for a moment knowing there was always a catch. Except Saito once again showed she was nothing like other people in her life. Her chest felt like it lost all room for her overflowing affection. Legs rushed over and Belle said nothing but wrap her arms around the woman, squeezing a little tighter than normal. Now that her senior couldn’t look at her expression, all the tears she desperately tried to keep in now came flowing down her cheeks.

All these walls breaking down, there was one dark truth touching the tip of her tongue. The wedding dress Saito worked so hard on. All for a wedding that wasn’t even real. What Belle wouldn’t do to just blurt it all out right now and let the bleeding wounds heal for once but it can’t be done.

The world was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She never experienced that sentiment so strongly until now.

Saito giggled rubbing her back soothingly as she attempted to give her comfort while also holding a humungous white dress. “I’m not dying, sweetie.”

Belle laughed through her tears, quickly wiping them away when she pulled out of the hug. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Marriage getting you all emotional?”

“You can say that.” One way to describe the hell she got herself into.

-

“Absolutely not.” Jungkook narrowed his gaze at the older male who somehow gained the audacity to disturb him in his office. Fingers stilled around the pen he was holding to sign a few hand-written letters to some associates. A warning to take caution for the coming days due to the raid in one of their biggest dens.

Taehyung scoffed lightly at the blunt response. “Why not?” He folded his arms together in front of his chest. “I spend hours in a day doing absolutely nothing. How long do you expect me just sit idly here?” The man looked and felt sicker by the day which the doctor explained was the body clearing itself out. Not really the most reassuring explanation but he knew at one point where all the sick feelings dissipated because he was properly distracted by something. Someone more like.

He dropped the pen on the table now unable to concentrate on putting the words together especially since this wasn’t exactly Word Document where it could be easily deleted. “I don’t want you in here either.” Jungkook retorted. “But you’re also not the most trusted person to be left alone right now so I’m left with no option other than no.”

“Then a guard can come with me.” Taehyung shrugged. Truth be told the man had no intention of doing what Jungkook had been wary about. Of course it’d be a lie to say there was not a gnawing feeling in his stomach as if something was missing. But right now that was not the goal.

“I suppose you expect me to pay for this outing as well, yes?” He winced.

“You are marrying my sister by force. So yeah you’re paying for both our life insurance as far as this whole fuckery is concerned.”

Jungkook cocked a brow hearing the male’s challenge. Maybe one shot to the leg would have helped him relieve any stress but he hated how much Taehyungs’ eyes resembled Belles’. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed the phone roughly and put it to his ear. “Mr. Kim…I’d like to book a private room in your house this afternoon. Sorry for the late notice.” He glanced over at the male, pressing the phone on his chest. “Who did you want?”

“Angel.”

Of course the fucker had to choose the most expensive angel in the goddamn registry. The crime lord took a deep breath to calm his fury before placing the phone to his ear, an award-winning smile on his lips. “The golden member. Angel…put it in under Kim Taehyung…yes…thank you, Seokjin.” Hanging up the phone, he merely glared at the older male. “They’ll be ready for you in the evening same time as the last one. Look presentable and for the love of god…” His glare sharpened. “…play nice.”

With a detached hum, Taehyung rushed out of the office skipping at every step to finally go outside of this place and to see the beautiful golden lady in the Sangria House.

-

Her heart jumped a little hearing that Kim Taehyung was going to visit the private room again and asked for Angel personally. She tried not to have favourite customers but truthfully the brunette had been the most comfortable to talk to. Most people would ask her questions on her talents in the bedroom or how much each service would cost. To many a golden angel was a literal cash cow for the owner so everyone grew curious as to just how much they were worth.

Months maybe years of training involved to be that perfect inhuman being who could make everyones’ dream come true if they had the right funds.

As any other work night for her anyway, Angel would pad into Seokjins’ office adorned in her signature golden dress which was soon going to be updated by a growing popular designer.

Knocking three times against the dark wood she heard the familiar voice invite her in. Clicking the door open, the girl closed the door behind her and stood in the center of the room like her normal routine. Head bowed, fingers intertwined with one another as she slowly bowed in front of him.

“I’m sure you’ve received the list for today.” Seokjin muttered still looking a few paperwork as the angel raised herself up to her perfect posture.

“Yes, Mr. Kim.” Angel nodded.

“You don’t have to call me that behind closed doors, Angel.” He sighed knowing there was no way the member would listen to him anyway. Keeping up formalities according to her had been a way to ensure she did not take her current state for granted. “There’s a special task I’m giving for your session with Mr. Kim.”

“What is it?” She gained that slight bit of comfort to look him in the eye. Not that it was abnormal but usually Angel was in more sleep appropriate clothes or none at all when they had casual conversations.

Seokjin opened one of the doors in his desk and pulled out a vial with a dark purple shaded powder inside. He swirled the little particles in front of the curious girl. “This is a powder to help Mr. Kim feel more…comfortable during his session.” His voice lowered the slightest as if he was spewing a small secret.

Angel received many unusual requests from customers but rarely from the owner himself. He was always a simple man who found solace in his business. No funny work behind the scenes ever. Except now. Brows furrowed slightly but the woman nodded nonetheless not entirely having any choice but to agree. She gently took the powder before hiding it inside her jeweled hands. “How much do I give him?”

“It’s quite a weak dose so the entire vial should do the trick.” He smiled reassuringly however Angel did not feel quite consoled. “Mix it in his tea so it’s easier to take in.”

The woman felt the vial getting heavier and heavier in her hands as the realization became clear she was about mix a strange substance in a customers’ tea. Something about it felt strange. Angel remembered spending nights inside a club where she would catch bartenders sprinkling things into girls’ drinks but she wasn’t able to say anything to stop them.

Either way the golden lady took a deep breath before giving her husband a large smile and nodded. “Of course.” Angel bowed slightly. “Is there anything else you want me to do, Mr. Kim?”

Seokjin reached out and brushed his long fingers against her softly painted skin. For a moment behind closed doors breaking some of the walls of formality so he could truly show some care for the people he watched over. “Be safe.”

-

The heaviness in her hands now seeped into her chest when she sat inside the private room awaiting Taehyung. Except the vial was still clasped in her clutch while her eyes fixated on the tea pot. Seokjin never showed malice towards anyone let alone someone who barely visited the Sangria House. Maybe it wasn’t harmful at all and the methods just seemed controversial in her own mind.

Angel never lost anything from trusting Seokjin in the past so why should this be any different?

Taking another deep breath, her bangles tinkled as she popped the cork of the vial. A light lilac steam flowed out of it when Angel tipped open the tea pot lid and sprinkled the whole substance into it. Seokjin advised her not to have but one cup to ensure she did not lose her own sense while attempting to entertain the man on whatever he needed.

Whatever he needed.

What did he need?

Their first conversation was mostly soft conversations that merely scratched the surface because they both held dark secrets that neither wanted to admit in the first meeting. At least that was why Angel suspected from the slight emptiness behind his eyes. Like he lost a part of himself once.

Maybe tonight Taehyung grew curious of something more than talking.

It was rare for her to do anything but talk, dance or play the gayageum for whoever she entertained due to the high prices for something else.

Then again Taehyung was Jeon Jungkooks’ brother-in-law. The young man could buy the entire Sangria House if he wanted as Seokjin liked to joke about sometimes.

Pulling her back from her trance in thought, the door clicked open and Angel shot up. All her jewellery and the details in her dress welcomed the familiar customer like tiny little wind chimes. Walking to the center of the room and her composure back to normal the woman bowed with the utmost elegance. “Welcome, Mr. Kim.” She grinned.

Taehyung immediately grew speechless when he walked into the private room. Despite the constant mental conversations he had in his mind that he should be calm and collected, once he saw the golden lady, his heart leaped and his stomach filled with butterflies. Really who could blame him? She literally glowed like a goddess even the sun must be in love with her.

Not that he was too. But he still grew a little obsessed at admiring her every feature.

“Would you like to sit down?” She gestured towards the space reserved for him.

The male stammered a little having mentally slap himself before giving her a nod and a friendly smile as he situated himself at the table. Angel sat next to him to ensure that the experience was as intimate as possible. Except now Taehyung felt the room was way too hot for him to tolerate.

With a slight nagging feeling in the back of her mind, Angel poured the tea for the both of them and offered one to Taehyung which he accepted.

Almost immediately he took a sip to somehow alleviate the initial awkwardness of the session. Unfortunately Taehyung ended up downing the whole drink like some kind of tequila shot.

Angel tried to suppress the light giggle that tried to pass her lips and refilled his cup again. “What did you want to do today, Mr. Kim?” She asked with the most perfect smile, fingers perched carefully on her lap.

A light warmth passed through his body as soon as the first cup settled in. Whatever anxiety he had melted slightly; enough for him to give the girl a smile without feeling like a teenage boy who had never seen a woman before. “I—I actually just wanted to talk again.” Taehyung swallowed thickly wondering how stupid it must sound coming to a place like this only to make conversation.

Belle always tried to make him feel at home but it only made him feel worse. He could see how exhausted she was working all day and night while still attempting to keep a happy smile on her face for everyone else. For him. Not to mention the wedding creeping closer, Taehyung could almost feel the weight she must have on her shoulders.

The golden lady nodded in acknowledgement, loosening her posture just the slightest to ensure more comfort. “I’ve heard the other angels talk about Mr. Jeon and your sisters’ wedding.” Her eyes widened a little. A small tinge of excitement burst inside her at the excitement of it all. “Weddings in the Jeon family have always been so regal, a lot of the juniors were talking about their own ceremonies being that way.”

Taehyungs’ heart sank a little seeing how happy the woman got with the wedding. No part of him had the courage to stop her from talking about it; the way her eyes sparkled and her smile melted into something more genuine rather than calculated. He smiled politely before taking a generous swig of his tea, once again unable to determine just how little tea was actually inside it. “What was your wedding like?” He asked watching her refill his drink at perfect timing.

Now Angel could not escape steering away from the question considering she brought up the topic. “I didn’t have a ceremony.” She smiled. “It was a legal signing and…a few witnesses.” She muttered remembering Jimins’ welcoming grin when he saw firsthand the confirmation of her freedom.

He stared at the woman noticing the little tinge of sadness in her smile. A feature eerily familiar in his younger sisters’ smiles too. Except his heart did not sink too much after he drank up the third cup. In fact nothing much happened. His body seemed to come to a full stop in feeling down to his toes almost seeming non-existent. He had to wiggle them a little to ensue himself they were still there. “Their wedding will be beautiful.” Taehyung had a bitter taste in his tongue speaking of it. “You can come. I’m sure Belle would love to have you.”

The woman stammered a little before chuckling nervously. Angel never really attended events unless Seokjin was invited so she could go as a plus one. Despite their ‘marriage’, she was still to be considered an employee and not Mrs. Kim. “I think I might be working on that day.” She spoke honestly.

“What if I took you with me?” Taehyung asked, the words slipping out of his mouth with more ease now.

Angel quickly refilled his cup again not wanting to be a sub-par hostess before politely smiling at the male again. “I can’t go to outings without my husband.” She muttered.

“Husband…” He scoffed with a smile, shaking his head. “Right…sorry.” Once again Taehyung turned to the comfort of chugging the entire cup of tea. His fingers feeling numb and his ears a little blocked but in a comforting way. Like a warm blanket around him after a walk in the cold day. “Do you ever think about running away?”

“Running away?” She searched his expression which had been growing softer and his body looked more casual.

“Yeah…” Taehyung pushed out a small chuckle. “You know, away from everything. Just…to the country side somewhere and just live there all your life with no troubles.” He threw his head back a little and closed his eyes to relish in the distant dream.

Angel giggled lightly. “What about your sister?”

“I’d take her with me.” He replied without hesitation. “She always told me about wanting to go in the mountains and sewing all her clothes from there. A secret designer hidden deep in the mountains.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at the dream. Maybe there were some days where the girl wished to leave all of this behind and live somewhere no one could ever touch her again. Where she could be free. But her current life held far too many responsibilities. Seokjin protected her from a worse fate and that was something Angel could spend the rest of her life repaying him for. “It sounds wonderful.”

Taehyung drawled out a deep hum before chugging down another cup he couldn’t keep count of. At this point his head and body felt like they were floating on a fluffy cloud that kind of smelled like jasmines. While his vision was hazier than ever creating a slight glow onto Angels’ face making her look literally like her namesake. A crooked smile tugged at his lips as his eyes drooped. “You’re so beautiful.” He muttered.

Angel giggled shyly, lowering her head a little. “And you’re very handsome.” She patted the back of his hand.

“It’s just my luck…” He let out a deep sigh of defeat. “The first person I end up liking…turns out to be a married woman.” The male pouted, eyes trailing down her form not being able to hide all corners of his interest as the strange tea now flooded inside him. “If only we could just—close off the real world for a moment.” His finger seemed to gain the same loose mind and traced the back of her soft hand. “And I could show you how much I like you.”

The girl gently pulled her hand away and placed it back on her lap. Smile slowly faltering into something less genuine. “I can do whatever you want, Mr. Kim. But there are still rules.”

“What if what I want is against the rules?” Taehyung whispered, tilting his head as he searched her expression.

“Then we call security.” She chuckled nervously.

He laughed making his throat feel incredibly prickly. Shoulders shook as he coughed knocking the empty cup over accidentally which Angel quickly set up again. “It’s fine.” Taehyung raised a hand before filling up the tea cup himself albeit while shaking.

Her chest rose and fell watching him down another cup.

As soon as the liquid went down, he coughed again while pain settled in his chest. “Think I might be allergic to jasmines.” Taehyung stared at his cup with a small giggle passing his lips. “Anyway what was I saying?”

Angel had to remind herself that it was not fully Taehyung’s fault for the behavior he began to portray. Except that didn’t change the sinking feeling in her gut as the comfortable bubble they had between them now seemed to melt before her. “You were talking about what you wanted to do.” She answered in a small voice to keep her normal composure.

“You said you’d call security.” His voice grew a little raspy before he coughed again. “Does that mean holding your hand is against the rules?”

She nodded. “That rule is more applied to members like me.”

“Married members.” He traced his finger pad around the brim of the small cup. “But do you ever think about breaking the rules? Just a little.” Taehyung smirked shifting a little closer, his hand once again sliding to her part of the table. “

Angel attempted to smile again before shaking her head. “I’d rather not, Mr. Kim. Responsibilities are important to have—so we don’t get out of control.”

“Fuck responsibilities.” He scoffed leaning back. “I tried being responsible. Being the perfect son…always choose the best path, always be the better cause you are better.” Brick walls inside him turned to paper as anger now burned through it with ease. “All the while my little sister tried so hard. She’s perfect. The best person I’ve ever met and they fucking called her worthless.” Tears melted at the brim of his eyes spewing all these unsaid words. “Then they died…” Taehyung chuckled, vision growing blurry. “…leaving their daughter thinking they never loved her. Responsibility killed my family. They had the responsibility to make the perfect son and look what happened. They never taught me to live without them. Responsibility destroyed my baby sisters’ life.” He winced.

Despite the poison in his body, Taehyung still had that truth suppressed unable to word it out. Your sister is this mess because of you. Because you couldn’t be better. The heat burst through his loosened body unable to control or suppress the urge as he knocked the teapot and cup off the table with the back of his hand.

Pot shattered and cup cracked the male was overwhelmed with another coughing fit that stung his chest.

Angels’ eyes now glossy attempted to hold both her hands up to calm him down. “Taehyung, please.” She whispered. The woman dared to touch his shoulder while his head was lowered on the table. Her heart jumped when she saw the light splutter of red falling from his plump lips onto the wooden surface. Letting out a shaky sigh, she cupped both his cheeks to make him face her gaze. “Taehyung?”

His whole face looked like an utter mess, eyes reddened, cheeks stained with tears and his lips trickling with his own blood. His chest was on fire and he couldn’t help but laugh a little again, teeth stained slightly. “This is what happens when you just talk.” Taehyung growled out. “Everything becomes a fucking mess.” He winced and pushed her off of him not wanting to face her while in this state even though his whole body had no energy to truly care.

“Help!” Angel yelled and almost mere seconds passed with the door bursting open, two guards walking inside. Following them was a concerned Seokjin padding into the room to check on her first.

“Did he hurt you?” His hand hovered her cheek.

She shook her head. “He’s sick, something’s wrong.” Angels’ gaze flickered from the blood splutters on the table to the young male being carried on each side by his arm.

“It’s okay.” Seokjin caressed the top of her head. “Take him to the Jeon household immediately. I will call Mr. Jeon to ensure he’s prepared with a treatment for him.” He explained in a much calmer demeanor than Angel was in at the moment.

One of the guards acknowledged his order before Taehyung was dragged less than gently out the door leaving Angel in her pool of anxiety.

“Keep a stiff upper lip, darling.” Fingers tapped on her chin to make her meet his gaze. “We can’t lose our focus, yes?”

Angel shook her head out of habit. The woman let her heart grow too soft for a man she only conversed with twice thus far. It was too dangerous to make herself dwell on the matter when he was—as much as it ached a little so say it—just a customer. She had responsibilities whether Taehyung or even she liked it or not. So Angel merely bowed and continued to get ready for her next session.

-

Afternoon faded into evening and evening faded into night but no sign of Taehyung. Worry creeped up as the hours passed by with Belle’s thoughts only growing darker instead of more optimistic. Of course she did not stop herself from scolding Jungkook for a few minutes about letting him go out to Sangria House.

The man simply reassured her that one of his guards were present outside of the House if something were to go wrong.

Adorned in her nightgown, Belle refused to rest on her bed despite Nana attempting to convince otherwise. She paced around the room with warmth spreading through her palms from the tea cup in her hands. Fingers tapped against the sides and the worry continued to infest throughout her entire body.

Then the door downstairs opened with a thud.

Slamming the cup onto the table the woman rushed out of the bedroom down the stairs, somewhere in the back of her mind hoping to see her brother safe and sound. Unfortunately luck was not a constant in the Kim Family when she saw Jungkooks’ guards carrying Taehyung inside.

Breath caught in her throat Belle took a few quick steps closer and drops of blood staining his chin and shirt like he was punched through his teeth. “What happened?”

“People at the house said he drank something and started acting weird.” One of the guards explained crudely while they moved to Taehyung’s bedroom.

Jungkook appeared from behind them, looking far more exhausted than ever.

Belle tried to clip her tongue from any more backlash on his decision and followed suit to her brother’s bedroom.

The maids pulled over the blankets so he could be plopped onto the soft surface, causing him to grunt a little under his breath. Belle pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor as the blanket loosely covered his body now.

“Didn’t they tell you what he drank?” She asked, pressing his hand against the male’s forehead but his skin wasn’t any more heated than normal.

“We have someone from our private med coming in tonight.” Jungkook padded into the bedroom after sending the guards out. The male had a slightly casual tone about him despite seeing the worry shaking from his future wife. Maybe he should have made more effort in feeling sorry but he knew this would happen. “He’ll be fine, baby.”

Belle refused to respond, eyes merely focusing on Taehyung who was having trouble keeping himself awake. He needed to be okay. He just had to. The wedding date slowly slithered closer now to a point where she felt like suffocating. Her brother was the only thread of hope she could hold onto to give her strength but now it just felt like they were back to square one all over again. Was this what Jungkook wanted? If Taehyung never got better than the girl would have no chance whatsoever to get away from him. She wouldn’t have any other choice but to stay here.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered every now and then seeing a blurry vision of dark hair and white clothing. For a moment he already confirmed his own death assuming maybe the figure before him was an angel. Except a few seconds he noticed Belle’s familiar features. “’m sorry…” He whispered.

She shook her head brushing his hair away from his forehead. “Don’t apologize.” The last person Belle blamed was Taehyung. He wasn’t the one who made them stay here. He wasn’t the one who made the deal nor did he agree to it on his own accord.

Minutes passed before one of the guards walked in announcing that a medical apprentice arrived to the premise to help them out. A little irritated, Jungkook told them to bring the person in. The downside of private meds was that they always had to protect their own backsides from being seen by prying eyes in mob leaders’ households. They would then send apprentices to do the job for them especially if it’s not a serious case.

Through the door walked in a raven haired male with a white shirt and some pants on looking the complete opposite of what any med should look like.

“Please don’t tell me this is your first day.” Jungkooks’ eyes judged him up and down right through his very core.

The apprentice cleared his throat as he stared down at his outfit. “It wasn’t really my shift tonight, sir. I was told this was an emergency.”

“Mi amor, this isn’t the time find out who the next top model is.” Belle retorted walking over to the entrance as she gave the apprentice a small friendly smile.

Jungkook noticed the guards’ eyes widen a little at the way she spoke to him. Not to mention the little nickname blatantly spewed in front of most of the staff.

“They said he drank something strange—”

The apprentice nodded looking over at the tanned male struggling to sleep peacefully, body jerking as he coughed. “My supervisor said it was a new drug that was sent to him for testing once. Manufacturer didn’t have a name but he called it Shade Terror…” He looked at both Jungkook and Belle. “May I?” He gestured to Taehyung.

Belle saw the apprehension in her fiancées’ expression. Granted the woman would be hesitant to let a trainee try and help her brother but she couldn’t just let him stay in pain until something else was available. Reaching out, she gently held onto his pinky and ring finger as a silent way of pleading that he let the man help Taehyung.

“What’s your name?” Jungkook asked.

“Yoongi…sir.” He bowed once again to enhance a vulnerable state in front of him. His face did not exactly scream ‘meek’ after all.

The young lord nodded and gestured towards Taehyung so he could start with his work. As soon Yoongi situated himself next to the bed, Jungkook turned his head to face Belle for a moment. On any other day a new face trying to do medical work under his roof would have gone through hundreds of investigations and gun to their head while they worked. So why was it Jungkook couldn’t find the courage to do the same now? Especially when Belle met his gaze and gave him a light smile to quietly thank him for agreeing.

Detaching their hands Belle walked back to the other side of the bed and watched Yoongi press his fingers against the side of Taehyungs’ neck. His way of working was definitely a lot more careful than that of a more experienced doctor but it looked far more reassuring. He placed a small wooden box on the nightstand before flicking it open and pulling out a vial filled with a pale blue milky liquid.

“We need to make him sit up.” He spoke in a slightly shy demeanor.

Belle nodded and gently pulled Taehyung up to a sited position as he leaned back against the headboard.

Her older brother whined light under his breath before lulling off to a messy sleep again.

Yoongi pulled the cork off of the vial before forcing the mans’ mouth open by pressing through his cheeks. Without a moment’s hesitation, he poured the liquid down his throat before clamping his mouth and nose shut forcing him to swallow it down.

She wanted to protest for a moment but immediately saw how Taehyung tried to resist the medicine, thrashing about on the bed until the blanket was almost off the bed.

Once the apprentice pulled away her older brother drowned into a coughing fit.

“He might vomit for a while to get the toxins out.” Yoongi spoke as he clapped the small box shut.

After a few more minutes of whining and light thrashing, Taehyung finally breathed out into a calmer state of relaxation before lulling off to sleep again.

The apprentice was about to walk out of the room before Jungkook stepped in front of him, hands pressed firmly against his chest.

“You’re staying here until we know he’s okay.” His glare shot like daggers, distrust practically oozing through his veins at the strange face.

Belle wondered a little to herself how he had so much trust issues for this apprentice but had all the confidence in the world to marry her without any knowledge of how she was. Either way for once she could relate to his suspicion. If the ‘antidote’ somehow made Taehyung worse then she’d want Yoongi in the mansion, accessible for proper punishment.

Yoongi looked over his shoulder to face the young woman who had a much kinder expression but even she grew hardened at the sign of distrust. Not that the man could truly blame her, for all they knew he could have gave the tanned man poison. So he nodded and stood back waiting for a few guards to lead him to a guest room. Weeks of training to just get enough inside information on Jungkook instead he was now literally invited into their home as a guest for the night. Granted on darker circumstances but it deemed to be a strange step forward.

-

Morning rushed in with a light warmth and Belle persisted to stay in Taehyungs’ bedroom the whole night despite everyone else’s attempt at convincing her otherwise. For a few hours she was able to travel back to a simpler time when she would snuggle into her older brothers’ bed whenever the darkness got difficult to deal with alone. Taehyung kept her in his arms all night telling her she was worth so much more than what their parents pushed on the girl.

What he didn’t truly know was that his love was strong enough to be all she needed. At some point Belle stopped longing for her parents’ validation knowing there was one amazing person already treating like she should be.

She wanted to do the same and make sure he knew in all this mess there was one person who always loved him more than anything.

Gold peeked through the curtains when the older male shifted in his position, eyes opening to a silhouette sleeping next to him. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips seeing the familiar face. For a few moments, Taehyung could pretend they were a normal family again without the real world around them trying to crumble it down or tear them apart. Those few minutes were sacred until he saw the shining ring around her finger. The ring she probably never wanted but took so he could heal. Now as his smile disappeared and his eyes burned, he was painfully reminded of the sacrifice Belle was going to make in a few days.

Taking in a deep breath, Belle slowly moved herself awake widening her eyes a little before she met with Taehyungs’ gaze. “Were you watching me sleep?” She giggled tiredly.

“Just checking if you actually did that.” Taehyung smiled again.

“You look better now.”

“I feel better. Aside from the vomiting, this room stinks.” He winced not wanting to look at a soiled bin on his side of the bed.

Belle shifted to lay on her back with a relaxed sigh. Eyes flickered over to her phone for the time; only a few hours until she had to go to work. But she could risk a few minutes for this rare moment where it was just the two of them. No maids, no guards, no Jungkook. Just a brother and a sister. “What happened, Tae?” She whispered.

“It wasn’t me.” Taehyung answered simply. “Seriously, I went into Sangria House and talked to Angel and…drank jasmine tea. I don’t think I’m allergic to jasmines.”

“The private med that came in said it was the symptoms of a drug.” Belle turned her head to meet his gaze. He had tried to lie about these things before but she could tell he had no idea this would happen to him at all.

“Jungkook probably asked them to slip something in my drink.” He scoffed.

It wouldn’t exactly be the worst thing the man had done in his lifetime especially from the things Belle had seen and heard in this house.

Her silence seemed to trigger a spark inside Taehyung’s body as he searched her expression. “You’re thinking that too, aren’t you?”

Belle swallowed down her words despite how strong they wanted to be sung across her tongue. “He’s a horrible man…but he can’t be that desperate to be married…I think.” Her brows furrowed not sure of anything she spoke out.

“He was desperate enough to put a ring on a stranger.” He retorted.

She hated how closely their thoughts aligned. There were so many things wrong about this situation but if this was true then Jungkook may be worse than he lets on in front of her. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That’s all that matters.” A smile stretched across her slightly chapped lips.

“You matter too.” Taehyung felt that familiar choke in his throat like his grip slipped and he was forced to watch Belle fall into this abyss. “You mean so much to me. How am I supposed to feel better if you’re hurting in the process?”

Belle quickly moved her gaze to the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh. “I’m not hurting, I promise. It’s going to be okay.” She intertwined her fingers with his trying to give him some form of reassurance.

“Morning…” Jungkook walked through the door of the bedroom, now in a fresh new suit and curled hair with a glass juice in his hand. “How’re you feeling?” He asked albeit not in the most compassionate tone.

“Fine.” Taehyung muttered.

The woman shifted to sit up on the bed, straps of her nightie falling over her shoulder as she stood up. “He only drank the jasmine tea in Sangria House.” Belle spoke simply. “Is there a special recipe that we should have known about?” Her arms folded over her chest, eyes growing a little sharp pointing at Jungkook.

“Jasmines and water?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know drugs more than a lot of people. What do you think that—Shade Terror thing could’ve been?”

“I’ve never heard of it before.” Except Jungkook may have had a small clue on what exactly was mixed into Taehyungs’ tea. The question he did not know the answer to was why. True Seokjin had some less than kind methods for people who might be treating his angels improperly. Maybe Taehyung did something that he was not saying to anyone.

Somehow Jungkooks’ lack of knowledge created more suspicion than there was due between the siblings. Belle padded closer to the male who immediately caressed her forearm. “You didn’t kill the medical apprentice yes?”

“Not yet.”

She looked over her shoulder giving her older brother a small smile. “We’ll see you at lunch, okay?”

For the first time in a while, Taehyung had a more relaxed heart looking at his sister despite the man next to her making his blood boil at the same second.

Belle pulled Jungkook towards the bar gently with a deep sigh.

“There’s something else.” He broke the brief silence immediately.

“What did you and Seokjin talk about that night?” She turned to face him properly.

The curly haired male scoffed lightly, placing his glass on the table. “It was business.”

“Seokjin owns a brothel, you own a cartel. What kind of business would you two be talking about exactly?”

Jungkook had to admit to himself, the woman was more intelligent than she let on and he wondered whether that was useful or more dangerous in this particular situation. “You think I had something to do with your brothers’ problem?”

“Yes.” A deadly silence plunged into the room as the guards and maids now felt far too comfortable to be in the living room. “Now answer my question.”

The male sighed knowing there was no reason to embarrass himself by trying to lie to a woman who had already seen his true colours. “We were discussing a new drug that Seokjin wanted to distribute through our cartel. I suppose he wanted to use it on his customers as a test run.” He shrugged.

“So you knew this might happen to Taehyung?”

“Of course I didn’t know it could happen to him.”

“But you knew the testing was going on and you still let him go to the House.”

“I’m not his father, Belle, it’s not my responsibility to keep him in check.” He gestured roughly towards the room.

Belle scoffed bitterly. “This is the responsibility you got when you decided to stick your fingers into our lives.” She took a step closer. “No one asked you to do all of this. We had the money to make all of this go away.” The heat spread through her so fast, her fingers began trembling and her head grew heavy. “So don’t fucking act like this is some big inconvenience only to you.”

Their conversation broke apart and attentions turned to the raven haired male standing just a few inches away from the bar as he cleared his throat.

“Sorry…I was called.” Yoongi replied simply, pretending he didn’t hear the answer to Namjoons’ burning question about Belle and Jungkooks’ sudden relationship. Hands settled behind his back and a neutral expression plaster across his features, he waited for one of the dual powers to speak up.

Belle faded back into a soft expression before smiling at Yoongi like she had not been incredibly distressed a few seconds ago. “I wanted to say thank you. My brother is all better now.” She walked away from the counter, closer to the raven haired male. “How much do we need to pay you?”

He shook his head with a reassuring smile. “My supervisor told me not to ask for any payment—”

“But you came all this way…” She muttered.

“An invitation to the wedding perhaps.” Jungkook spoke up now, leaning on his hands against the edge of the counter. “Your supervisor could come along as a plus one.”

Yoongis’ lips parted as he met Belle’s gaze who gave him an encouraging nod. An invitation to a stupid wedding did not seem like a prize of any sort but he assumed being a guest to such a prestigious ceremony was a gift. Either way he couldn’t exactly disagree to the offer now that it was on the table so he gave them both a smile that could constitute as grateful. “Thank you so much…I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to come to the event.”

“I’m sure he will.” The other male gave him a forced smile despite being hyper aware of the eyes that were on them when Belle snapped. Everyone would remember now. The girl who walked in here being manipulated slowly grew hardened to her struggles and had every ounce of courage to fight back. It was a red flag shouting at him to pull the trigger…prevent any more problems from arising. Except he loved the anger. The fire in her eyes gave him life and vigor, he couldn’t just take it away. Whether that would be a good decision or bring his downfall was up to fate now.

-

Night fell cloudy as Boyoung entered the Jeon household just two days before her nephews’ big wedding.

Belle sat in her bedroom watching her dress getting steamed by Nana while she sent a few emails confirming the date of the Spring Line fashion show. Since Saito placed her own hand into the line, the venue and date had to be perfect enough for the most important guests to arrive during that time. The show was going in over three months but her anxiety creeped in already.

Last time the woman had a fashion show, she missed it completely on account of getting her brother to a safe place. That was one of the smaller ones though. This one would have designers from far and wide coming in just to see these designs on show, critics, celebrities and a venue so majestic Belle almost got nauseous just looking at the pictures. It was going to be the pivotal moment of her career. If this went well then orders would come in like a waterfall and her name would be solidified in the industry.

She had to force herself to take a deep breath before her whole body exploded in her heavy mixture of anxiety and excitement.

“Belle, dear.” Boyoung knocked twice before peeking through the open door. A smile immediately tugging at her lips when she saw the younger female.

She peered through her glasses before closing her laptop and placing it on her nightstand. As soon as the girl tried to get up the older woman put her hands up.

“Please sit, darling.” She giggled padding over and sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. “I need to talk to you about something important.” Boyoung placed her purse on the soft surface before pulling out a steel container. “I know you can buy your own but just for tonight.” She removed the lid to show that it was filled almost to the brim with pomegranate seeds shining a little like rubies in the light.

Belle tilted her head before chuckling softly. “What is this for?”

“Eat a lot of pomegranate seeds from now on.” Her eyes widened a little from her own excitement, placing the container in her hands with care. “It’s going to help with bearing a child.”

If the anxiety was strong before, it shot through of her head now making her entire body tremble. Belle hoped her true reaction did not seem too obvious when she forced to smile at the woman. She knew a lot of families vowed to traditional means to help bearing children but that was not what shocked.

Bearing children.

Children.

Making lives.

Bringing more innocent lives into this world.

Into this mess.

It was now more than ever Belle could relate herself to Persephone. Being given pomegranates to make her stay in the Underworld permanently. She was never going to escape this place if she had Jungkooks’ child in her belly. The woman would be bound to this world, etched on it like the phoenix tattoo on her fiancées skin.

Whether Taehyung got better or not. There would be no escaping after that.

“I’ve never seen Jungkook happier than I have now.”

Because he’s getting exactly what he wanted all along.

“You really made a difference.” Boyoung patted her cheek, eyes looking a little glossy as she grinned. “Thank you.”

Belle sighed lightly with a shaking smile still struggling on her face. “Don’t thank me. I wanted to.”

The older woman nodded glancing behind to see the gorgeous dress hanging on the large stand, chuckling. “I’ll leave you to your privacy…while you still have it.” She teased.

Once Boyoung left the room, Nana paused in her work and looked over at Belle with a worried expression. Much to her heartbreak the young girl broke into silent tears as she placed the contained on the nightstand. Placing the steamer down she padded over to her mistress and said nothing but pulled her in for an embrace. “You’ll be okay, dear. You have a strong heart.”

Then why did it feel like it was crumbling to a million pieces from too much pressure?

-

“Her older brother?” Namjoons’ voice spoke through the phone.

Yoongi shook himself slightly to fight away the cold despite the confines of the glass booth around him. “Yeah he’s been living in the Jeon mansion for a while I’m guessing. Belle also said something about her having the money. Her brother might have had a debt of some sort.” He glanced around the darkening streets spotting only a few stumbling groups passing by in a fit giggles. “Jungkook refused the money…”

“Leverage maybe? To marry Belle?”

“Yandere move.” He muttered under his breath. “Whatever’s going on, Jungkook seems a little soft for the girl.”

“That’s never good.” Though Yoongi could hear the slight bounce in Namjoons’ tone.

Soft meant weakness. A word hardly associated with Jungkook under any circumstances but now it might strike a ray of hope. “Belle’s smart though. She was able to fish out information on Seokjin making the new drug…and she wants me to stay in the mansion tonight too.”

Silence plunged between the call for a few minutes before Namjoon spoke again. “You think she’s suspicious?”

“I think she’s careful. After that whole Sangria House drama, she probably wants to keep her brother safe so having a medical apprentice seems the way to go.” He hung his head slightly irritated that these were all assumptions at this point. Yoongi thought Jungkook would be hard to read but now he had to be careful of the new queen about to be crowned in the cartel. “I know it’s not enough—”

“No, you kidding? That’s a lead. Jeon weddings are where the family is going to be most vulnerable. Meaning no executions, no drama, it’s all about the celebration.” Namjoon explained almost in a whisper which meant that the male must have still been in the precinct working. “It’s the perfect time to get on their best side.”

Yoongi nodded quickly moving to hang up before he heard Namjoon make a noise again. “What?”

“Be careful, okay?”

He smirked. “I’m always careful.”

-

Belle got herself adorned in a simple mustard body con dress with some light makeup and her hair done loosely as she walked down the stairs to the entrance of the mansion. Two guards stopped her at the front asking it was too dark for her to be out. It was a spur of the moment decision to just get out of the house on her own accord for once.

Except she knew she had to be smart about it. Going out at night when so many people knew her face and name now was risky. But she didn’t want any of the guards to be stuck to her the whole time.

“Yoongi will come with me.”

The older male barely managed spent a few minutes on his own after the short conversation in the phone booth with Namjoon. He merely walked out of his bedroom for a moment to check on Taehyung before Belle dedicated him to a night out.

“The–the medical apprentice, ma’am?” One of the guards stammered.

“He looks able-bodied and Taehyung’s crashed for the night. It’s only a couple of hours, gentlemen, I’m sure the world won’t end.” A few more minutes of jabbing a sharp expression towards the guards they eventually caved and told her the car was coming in soon.

Yoongi only had his white shirt which was re-washed surprisingly quickly by the maids so he would not smell putrid by the day. It was like living in a house of robots who just did what Jungkook asked. Except for this woman. She looked like the only person moving in real time.

Once the car was pulled in, Belle asked Yoongi to drive since she felt a little too anxious to concentrate.

“Where to?”

“Sangria House.”

Without asking any questions, Yoongi drove on with a heavily engraved memory of where the location was. The car ride itself was deeply silent making the male incredibly aware that he was completely alone with Belle. Would it be too quick to just tell her what’s going on? It didn’t seem like she had any worries defying Jungkook but that could mostly just be so she could act as a balance of power in the cartel.

Best to stay quiet, he told himself.

The car stopped in front of the establishment causing Belle to let out a deep sigh. “Could you wait here?” She asked in a soft tone now. “I’m sorry to pull you into this but I think it’s better if I took someone who wasn’t directly Jungkooks’ guard for this meeting. I promise I’ll explain your absence to him.”

When the woman gave him a reassuring smile, Yoongi felt his heart sink a little. One thing he despised about himself is how easily he could see something broken behind a persons’ eye. He would see it in the seventeen year old school girl who had to explain how her principal called her into his office every week but it was never because she was in trouble. He would see it in the convicted young man who tried to recount the events that led to him murdering his uncle. He saw it here and now. That broken nature all in a smile that meant she tried to survive something that was too much to take. Or was trying to survive. Despite the pressure of thoughts in his mind, he nodded in agreement before Belle walked out of the car.

-

“Ms. Belle!” Seokjin announced as Belle was escorted into his office by one of the white angels. Another junior angel poured them some tea in two cups before bowing and leaving the room. “Please sit.”

Swallowing down, the woman padded over to the table and carefully sat down on one of the chairs feeling a light breeze in the room. She regretted not getting a shawl of some sort but this was meant to be a quick meeting.

“Some tea?” He gestured with that same trained smile he always had for all his customers and business partners.

Belle stared at the filled up and merely smiled. “I’ve grown a little wary of tea at the moment.”

Seokjins’ lips twitched a little almost losing the calculated grin he adorned so gracefully. “I suppose that’s understandable.” He chuckled under his breath. “Though I assure you I don’t drug valued partners.” He nodded to himself. “But we’re not really talking about the tea here. What did you want to talk about?”

“Sangria House has been a pride and joy for tradition and beauty, yes? But you also want to influence the future generation which is why our partnership exists.” She leaned back on her chair. “Have we not made sufficient dresses?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head.

“Does it not look expensive enough?”

“It looks absolutely marvelous.”

“Then why is it, Mr. Kim, that you seem to need another business transaction with my future husband?” Belle tilted her head, searching his expression.

Seokjin chuckled lightly. “I am an active businessman, Ms. Belle.”

“An active businessman who tries to distribute a faulty product.” She continued simply. “I’m not an expert on drugs and do correct me on this but aren’t drugs supposed to make you feel good? At least on the first day, one should not start coughing out blood and losing their mind.”

“It still has its tweaks.” His smile slowly started fading away for a moment.

“Then fix it before you test it on the wrong people.”

“Madam, are you suggesting I stop making this business transaction with your fiancée? Wouldn’t that be unfair to Mr. Jeon? Having this discussion without his approval?”

“I think Mr. Jeon needs a little bit of unfair in his life.” Belle smiled. “All I’m asking is for you to pause any discussions or testing on this transaction until ours is finished. I’m a little possessive like that, I prefer full focus.” She scrunched her nose. “Once we’re done with the Spring Line show and all is successful, you can begin…your experimentation as you please. Does that sound fair enough?”

Silence plunged into the room as Seokjin had to collect himself for a few moments at the proposal thrown at him. “I can see why Mr. Jeon took an interest in you.” He chuckled a little nervously. “Alright…as a way to sincerely apologize for my actions, I will halt any discussions on the new product with your husband. All the focus will be on our line…Madame Belle.”

Jungkook never truly cared about the complete wellbeing for Taehyung. It was all conveniently to keep the deal alive. So if she couldn’t win with him on a personal level then maybe damaging him on a business level might just give her leverage.

Was this going to help her life with Jungkook become more pleasant? No. Not at all.

But this was her only way to take control of something again. Jungkooks’ successes in getting money from this new drug now relied on her milestone, not his power.

A few more formalities and Belle was led into one of the private rooms where she saw Jimin sitting with a bright smile waiting for her.

The lavender adorned male immediately got to his feet, bowing down until he was almost on his knees. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

It was like all the responsibilities and pressures on her shoulders immediately pulled off of her when she walked into the room. Inside these walls the woman could forget the world outside just for an hour.

Belle hated to admit that she had been visiting Jimin in secret for the past month now just after her work so it could be passed off as overtime. It was sneaky behavior and she despised stooping to such a level but she had to. Getting out of that house and being out of the boutique just for a while was exactly the time Belle needed to feel sane. Forgetting ones’ problems never solved them but she wanted the weight off. Jimin knew exactly how to do that.

Once the lavender angel slid the doors close leaving just the two of them.

All responsibilities were gone.

Just peace.

-

Eventually the fantasy hour had to finish. Belle ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped out of the establishment, rain pouring down violently in the dark night. One of the guards from the House gave her an umbrella and led her to the car where Yoongi jumped out of the car to open it for her. A silly move since now he was drenched.

“Sometimes chivalry can die, you know.” Belle chuckled a little watching the poor thing shiver as he started the car.

“Believe me, ma’am I thought the same thing as I walked out.” Yoongi couldn’t hold in a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. God, was this woman a fucking siren or something? “How was your session?”

She nodded before looking out the window at the blurry view outside. “It was nice.” The right corner of his lips twitched a little.

Yoongi hummed.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He shook his head, glad he had to fully focus on the road and shiver throughout the whole car ride.

Belle chuckled flicking the heater on and directing the vents towards him. “I just talk to them unless you’re thinking otherwise.”

“I’d look like an ass if I assumed something like that, madam.” He spoke before taking a deep breath as he felt the calming heat touch his skin.

“Please call me Belle, I sound like such an aunt when people call me madam.” She briefly held his arm creating more warmth for him.

Yoongi almost felt a little deprived when she pulled her hand away. “Belle…right.” He scoffed out a small breathy laugh.

The mustard adorned woman relaxed into the seat a little with a long sigh, her sweet smile disappearing a little. “I like talking to them…him, it’s just one person. It—it’s the only place I can really talk to someone without…feeling like something’s going to go wrong.” Her brows furrowed as she swallowed. “It might sound a little stupid.”

“No…” He jutted out his bottom lips as he shook his head. “No it’s not stupid at all.”

Belle trailed her gaze to face his expression, raven fringe hovered over his eyes but he seemed to see everything on the road with the way he was driving. “You think so?”

Yoongi shrugged. “In the world you live in…I can’t exactly antagonize you for talking to someone just to relax or feel sane at the very least.” He chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with getting help where you can.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.” She muttered.

“I should probably thank you for not letting Jungkook kill me that night.” He smirked.

“Well you did dress up like an idol reject.” Belle giggled.

“Point taken.”

<< PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER >> 

[triptychexe]

TITLE: The Replacement SUMMARY: S.O.T meets TROIS for the first time. Nia has mixed feelings about Jin. PAIRING: Mentioned Nia x Johnny GENRE: Uhhhh not sure? Like... Maybe mild drama? WORD COUNT: 1.7k WARNINGS: Swearing A/N: hehe trying a different font for post banners. lemme know if it actually works or if it’s ugly. i can’t really tell. 

Yerin smoothed her hair down one more time, trying to settle the jolts of anxiety that rattled her chest. What was she so nervous about? On paper, there was nothing for her to be anxious over. 

Except if you squint and read between the lines, there absolutely was something to worry about. Yerin took the time to read up on her newest members before meeting them backstage at Music Bank after their debut showcase. All three girls seemed to be promising enough, but there was one member that the leader couldn’t stop thinking about.

Min Soojin was not only the leader of the subunit, but she was the main vocalist and center. All positions that Nia held when she debuted. She was designated to the color red, just like Nia. She had short black hair and bangs, not unlike Yerin’s own signature debut look. Even Soojin’s vocal tone sounded similar to Nia’s. As far as Yerin was aware, this Min Soojin was not just a new member. She was Yerin’s replacement. 

Maybe the word ‘replacement’ was a little dramatic. But the uncanny parallels were enough to make Nia raise her eyebrow in skepticism. Plus the way HBH was marketing Soojin left Yerin no choice but to come to the conclusion that Jin was, without a doubt, meant to be the next ‘Nia’. And that was a hard pill for the leader to swallow.

Sitting with Micha and Eunha on a backstage sofa, she bounced her leg absentmindedly as she surveyed the live footage of the performance on the television in front of her. Her eyes were particularly fixated on Jin. Her vocals were strong, but her dancing was clearly not as strong as the other two. A wave of relief passed over Nia when she noticed the flaw in the new girl, followed abruptly by a pang of guilt. Jin wasn’t meant to be competition, she was her team mate. Yerin had to snap out of it.

“They’re good, huh?” Zim bopped her head along to the music, enjoying the performance. “Hyo has a nice flow and Ame’s stage presence is really charming.” 

“Yeah, Ame’s gonna be popular, I can tell.” Yen smiled proudly, as if she had a hand in the other girl’s performance. “Jin’s even better live than on recording. I heard she was offered a solo contract.” 

“No way,” Zim raised her eyebrows. “I wonder if that’s true.” Nia huffed. “There’s no way. HBH didn’t have any solo debuts planned. I was there for the scheduling meeting.”

Eunha and Micha noticed the icy tone in their leader’s voice.  “It was just a rumor.” Yen muttered under her breath. “Rumors in a small company like ours never end well.” Nia responded a little sharper than she intended. 

Yen rolled her eyes before focusing back on the screen, clapping along with the audience as the song ended. The lights on stage went dark, signaling the end of their debut showcase. 

In a few minutes, the three sweaty and flushed members of Trois entered the dressing room. Hyo’s eyes widened when she noticed S.O.T sitting down and bowed hastily. Ame and Jin did the same, rushing out greetings to their senior members. An awkward air settled over the six girls, realizing that they have never been in a room together before today. 

Nia figured it was time for her leadership skills to shine. She gestured to the couches.

“You should sit down.” Nia suggested. The three girls instantly sat themselves, not hesitating in the slightest. Yerin couldn’t tell if they were just very obedient or very comfortable. 

“Here, we’ll go get you guys some food and some water,” Yen offered. “Oh, you don’t have to-” Jin started. Eunha raised a hand to stop her new teammate.

“Let us do this, we didn’t have any seniors to pamper us during our debut. Let us give you what we wish we had.” Eunha grinned before walking off with Yen in her wake towards the buffet table. 

Nia cleared her throat, uneasy about being alone with the newbies. What should she say to them? 

“Do you feel accomplished?” Nia asked the first thing that came to her head. She only realized how passive-aggressive the comment sounded after it left her lips. The smiles on the girls faces melted into nervous grimaces. 

“Well, we practiced a lot,” Jin looked between her two members. “And we’ve been preparing for this for a long time. We haven’t looked at the footage from the stage yet, but I’m confident that we did a good job.” 

Nia nodded. “You guys were good. I was impressed.” 

The three girls looked between each other with excited glances. “Thank you, Nia.” Jin smiled brightly. “You actually were the one we wanted to get the approval of the most.” “We were afraid you’d hate it and then kick us to the curb.” Hyo spoke up with a smirk on her lips. Jin shushed her friend through laughs, nudging Hyo with her elbows playfully. Hyo fought back, pushing her shoulder into Jin with a giggle. Nia’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. She’s never had her members play around with her like that. It made her wonder what type of leader-member dynamic Jin had set up with her group mates.

“We didn’t think that seriously, of course-” Ame tried to save her friends. 

“Uh, I did.” Hyo arched her eyebrows. She gave Nia a sympathetic look. “No offense, but you can be really intimidating.” 

Nia chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m not as bad as I may seem.” 

“That’s a lie.” Yen appeared behind them, carrying plates of food. “She’s horrible the week before a comeback.” 

“Oh my god, before Pose dropped, Yerin was like a dictator.” Eunha shared, handing out drinks to everyone. This launched a retelling of all Nia’s strictest and meanest moments, which evoked a mixture of laughs and mortified chuckles from the three new members. The six girls ate their lunch together, swapping debut day stories, predebut memories and advice.

“Oh my god, wait till you guys go to ISAC.” Micha shook her head, pointing her chopsticks in Ame’s direction. “You are going to get so many male idols coming up to you and giving you their numbers, I just know it.” 

“Oh,” Ame couldn’t say much more, her cheeks flushed bright red. Jin chuckled, giving Ame a nudge of encouragement. 

“ISAC is fun, just don’t get lost.” Eunha shot a mischievous glance over at Nia, who tilted her head back to the ceiling and groaned. One of Nia’s worst memories was getting lost at their first ISAC event, which led to her walking around the gymnasium and avoiding bumping into other idols. There were videos of her awkwardly wandering all over the internet for weeks. 

Jin covered her mouth as she chuckled, nodding her head. “Oh my god, Johnny told me about that! I felt so bad, that sounds so scary!” 

Nia slowed her chewing down. 

“You know Johnny?” She asked, her blood running cold.

Jin nodded, patting the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, we met at this club a couple years ago. He’s one of my closest friends. He talks about you kind of a lot.” 

“Oh.” Yerin blinked. “He’s never mentioned you.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me. He probably didn’t want you getting the wrong idea.” Jin nodded in understanding. “Don’t tell him I said anything, but he seems to like you a lot.” Jin winked. Yerin fought off the urge to respond with ‘yeah, no shit’. Johnny has been her almost-boyfriend for nearly two months now. She wasn’t oblivious to his feelings towards her.

Instead she gave a small smile. The tension was tight for a moment until Hyo let out a loud cuss word, causing all the attention to shift to herself.

“Ah damn!” Hyo whined, pushing her chair back. She had spilled her banana milk all over the front of her stage outfit. 

Staff members ran over quickly, handing Hyo a new shirt to change into so they could use stain remover on the blouse before it was too late. In the change of atmosphere, S.O.T’s manager, Hyunjung, rose from her spot at the manager’s table.

“Actually, we should get going,” Hyunjung straightened out her dress pants. “We still have some business to do back at the company.” 

“It was nice meeting you!” Ame gushed as the six girls disposed of their food together. 

“Next time I won’t spill milk all over myself.” Hyo winked. The S.O.T girls chuckled, said their goodbyes, and followed Hyunjung out of the dressing room. 

As soon as they turned the corner, Hyunjung addressed Yerin. 

“You could have been a little more subtle.” Hyunjung said severely.

Nia played dumb. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean staring daggers at Soojin while you’re having a conversation doesn’t do you any favors.” Hyunjung criticized. “What are you gonna do when you have to start promoting with her? People are going to notice the stiffness between you two. I’d say sort it out, but it’s clearly a one-sided issue.” 

Nia’s mouth was agape as she tried to formulate a response that made sense. 

“She knows Johnny though. He’s never mentioned her to me. You can’t expect me to not be suspicious after knowing something like that?” Nia said defensively.

“I mean, I know Johnny too.” Yen shrugged. “I’ve hung out with him before when I went to Yuta’s that time.” 

“Yeah but that’s different.” Nia insisted, rolling her eyes as the group stepped into the parking lot, heading towards their car. “You’re clearly just his friend and I know you. I don’t know Jin.” 

“Just because someone knows your boyfriend doesn’t mean they’re romantically involved with him.” Hyunjung reminded Nia as they buckled their seat belts.

“Johnny’s not my boyfriend,” Yerin said firmly. “Well, at least not yet.” 

Hyunjung glanced at Yerin through the rearview mirror. 

“Then there's really nothing to be upset over, is there?” Hyunjung asked, a single eyebrow arched. 

Yerin didn’t respond, knowing that the conversation was over. Eunha reached her hand across the space between their seats and laced fingers with Yerin comfortingly.

“Hey, you’re still my favorite leader.” Eunha smiled. “And nothing is going to change that.” 

Yen leaned forward from her seat in the back. “You’re my favorite leader on the days we have off.” Yen smiled brightly. “And if I was Johnny I’d rather fuck you than Jin.” 

“Thanks, guys.” Yerin huffed in amusement as their car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. 

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 19

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Read chapter eighteen

Title: A Powerful Motivator

Words: 5600

Summary: How could you have ever known? You couldn't. You have to accept that.

ST Rambles: Hello newcomers. I hope you all have enjoyed the story so far. And if this is the first update you're receiving. Well. So sorry. If you've gotten this far you already know there's a lot of pain and angst here. 

I very much hope this chapter had the effect I wanted. Please tell me your thoughts and reactions! Thank you for reading!

[MASTERLIST]

Only when the elevator doors had shut did the two men unhand you, the absence of their detention obvious as the tissues they’d bitten into amplified with your pulse. The crimson captors stood silently, soullessly, at either of your shoulders, posture so strict not even their armor shifted as you were propelled upwards. If they hadn’t been so obvious in their initial pursuit you were sure if you tried hard enough you could convince yourself you were alone, believe this was any other day and you weren’t venturing towards the Supreme Leader of the First Order. The latter half was true; you were only moments away from encountering Snoke. Though, however many people resided in the blaring white of the elevator, you knew you were wholly and entirely alone no matter what.

There was no floor indicator, clueing you into the fact that there was only one intended destination of this trip. Eternity clawed into the stunned flesh of your lungs, the ride simultaneously taking forever and going too quickly. The only scenario you could imagine waiting for you was one of the premature finality of your life; whatever mangled state of your body that would satisfy Snoke was only to be collected once your soul had left in the wake of his fury. Thinking of how the only people who’ve ever met him at such a low rank as you was blood-stilling; there were only stories of demise, grave retellings of endless officers never leaving the doomed automatic doors. Though you’d anticipated at least another month before you’d take your last breath, the closer you came to meeting the superior of superiors you reconsidered that date, your mind racing to think of every last statement you’d made to those you cared for. Would the last familiar face you’d ever see really be that of a nameless physician as he knelt over your co-worker’s seizing body? Nothingness crowded the corners of your attention, too many regrets and unfulfilled wishes tearing through every last gnarled second you had.

The two goons took hold of you again, this time instead gripping into your axillae and elbows. The gesture was suspicious, laced with motives unknown to you when they didn’t apply pressure. They were waiting on something they’d come to expect, or something they’d been instructed to anticipate. Whichever it was, you couldn’t see a reason to struggle against them; there was no escaping this, there was no way around your fate here. The only things left to do were endure and survive, and you weren’t even sure how much control you had over either at the moment.

The first set of doors hissed open as the diagonal split revealed a second, the perpendicular opening of the outer set offering a shutter-like introduction to the room. In the first half second of taking in your new surroundings, not even having left the elevator yet, your lungs shriveled in on themselves as a ragged strike of unadulterated pain rang through your skull. With every last remaining breath came an unintelligible utterance of curses and shrieks. It felt like every sutured connection of your skull was coming apart, your ears ringing with a piercing screech while your throat shredded against every new scrambled soundwave. The only thing keeping you vertical was the guards’ support, your legs forgetting their purpose as each nerve ending twisted in torment. White hot fury licked at each synapse until your head seemed it would implode, sound no longer registering as the worst of it fringed out over your spine and down your tailbone, eyes searing into the impossible agony behind pinched lids.

Torture had a knack for disproving the existence of time; it was unclear how long you’d been screaming when your ears tuned back in, hearing the remnants of a desecrated voice as it faltered into heavy heaves of breath. The armored soldiers were seemingly trained in the ramifications of this event, only releasing you when you had just enough strength and consciousness to support yourself, vision coming back slowly as a loud clack and hiss came from behind. Gathering the rest of your bearings you spun to find the exit had locked and the two guards had their staffs – equipped with electric blades at the tips – locked into an X behind you, further silent explanation of just how trapped you were.

“You’ll excuse the insurance,” a booming, slithering, rattled voice came, commanding every nerve ending to fire at once, every life-sustaining system halting simultaneously. “I can’t risk this meeting getting back to your Master, now can I?”

The guards took a step forward, your own feet stumbling backwards as they ushered you further into the room. There was a walkway, at least ten paces long and five wide, which mirrored the dusky red coming from the overhead lights. The room was incredibly dark, shadows billowing from each support lining the expansive space. Taking one last backward step, your shoe scuffed against the black-mirrored tile, a jumpstart to your heart as you caught view of the true enrapturement that enveloped you currently.

The far wall was a muted red, light evading it as it stretched upward, eventually becoming indistinguishable from the shadow-thick ceilings. Beside you were two railings, only ending when the walkway opened into a geometric stage. Saliva abandoned your mouth when you pictured being cast down into the unknown emptiness which framed you at either side. Drawing closer, harsh-yet-steady steps forcing you forward, an undeniable dread formed at the sight of several torture-entailing apparatuses scattered about the arena; two platforms rose slightly from the floor, mirrored in their placement as two more hung just above them. For all you knew, one of them would be your likely demise.

There was power in giving the Supreme Leader your attention, so instead you focused on that which framed him, feeling a nauseating sense of violation as his stare seeped into your presence. Six red-armored men framed him, three on either side, all of which held various versions of the weapons which buzzed behind you, a warning raging on as each zap rippled new goosebumps into your scalp. Without a single mistaken glance, your eyes traced the throne that framed your Supreme Leader; the grandiosity of its height intermixed with the cold architecture it stemmed from created an unease rooted in the discomfort  that something so dull and lifeless could emerge a sense of such utter intimidation.

A halo of bright white burst from below the cathedra, framing the symmetrical sterility just above the incline it sat upon. You’d passed the railing by now, losing a sense of hopeless protection in its absence. The only thing that quelled your fears of being catapulted into the abyss was the fact that it hadn’t happened already. Seemingly, given you were still breathing – though, the quality of each breath could be questioned – there was a purpose in your being here, an exception to the expendability with which the officers that came before you had been plagued.

The footsteps stopped, yours following suit just one pace ahead of them. Between your feet you studied the excruciating eyes peering back at you, wondering how much more pain or violence or trauma they could endure before they lost every bit of life they once held. It astonished you how bleak they’d already become, how unrecognizable you appeared in the glinting pool of ebony below. To look into your eyes now was to plead with the past, beg to go back, wish that you’d never crossed paths with Kylo Ren.

But then another thought, quick and biting and familiar, trickled into the blown reflected pupils: you couldn’t wholeheartedly make that request anymore. Even facing whatever haunting future Snoke would present, there was a rejection in considering never meeting your Master. Though he’d completely uprooted every aspect in your life, entirely deconstructed your every belief, in facing the unknown – whether it be death or something worse – you knew that part of you had grown to want him. To need him, even. A fog of regret clouded your vision when you remembered the last words you’d said to him. This doesn’t fix everything.

And maybe it didn’t, maybe you still held reservations to preserve whatever remaining self-respect you clung to. But if given the chance to go back ten minutes, to be in his arms again, to feel him so warm and so close? To instead forgive what he’d done, even if it meant compromising your pride? Right now, periphery dancing around the blurry frame of the Supreme Leader, you would take it without thought. If you were to be haunted by one last thing, let it be the pitiful nonexistence of your spine instead of the ache taking root imagining never seeing the black-winged Adonis which held your every thought.

“It’s disquieting,” Snoke said, introspection and examination flagrant on his tongue, “to feel familiar with such a young, useless officer.”

There was nothing left to look at, no more metallic stylings to admire. The last object of your attention sat before you atop the soulless steel, lounging lazily against the backing. He wore a robe dripping in gold-flecked thread, his lower body encased in the wrappings. At his waist sat a tie to keep the article tight against his abdomen, leading to the exceedingly low V of the robe’s opening. The skin that lied beneath was marbled in scars which echoed the remnants of a life lived in war. Though, given his rank, his authority, you already knew that to be true.

Talons sprung from bleak fingers, tips tracing into the fronts of either armrest in repetitive horizontal paths. The sight begged the question if he was entirely human, such an animalistic quality forcing your teeth together with fear. Quickly, though, inquiry was replaced with a blaring affirmation; the face that peered back at you incited astonishment of the coldest nature. Even then, was it even a face? Or just the personification of withered, battle-bludgeoned, venom-stained malice?

A shiver shook your chest, eyes too enthralled in the chaos of features to care about social niceties. Agony tinged into your blood, eyes blinking back the sight of the knots of flesh constructing his neck, burrowing notches creating pathways leading to an unknown you’d prefer not to think about. Half his face chinked into itself, a hollowed-out cheek splaying into stretched, melded strings of scarred skin. An asymmetrical mount of flesh stood where his nose supposedly was, two crystal-clear sea green eyes lopsided at either side of it. Above the caverns of his sockets laid a semi-centered gash sinking unsettlingly far into his scalp.

Though he’d done nothing to provoke it other than exist, you feared him. Briefly you considered if he’d become this way purposefully, wondering if his outward appearance worked advantageously towards his goal at inciting sheer terror in his victims. In the comfortable distance you fought to keep your jaw shut, senses overpowered by the gnarled suggestion of life founded in your Supreme Leader.

He tore through your first and last name in guttural pronunciation, metal walls screaming back the echo of your name as it reverberated from his mouth into your soul. “Ranked forty-eight out of one hundred and twenty graduates. Born to no one of acclaim. Heir to nothing. Yet, provider to my prodigy.” He still sat back, words clawing into you as you imagined his talons could. “Why do you think that is, officer?”

Swallowing against your throat, spit nowhere to be found, your lips parted in hesitance, not knowing if he actually wanted you to answer. He said nothing, eyes scraping over your stature with every suffocating second you took before speaking. “Supreme Leader,” you faltered out, thoughts barely forming. “It’s an honor to-,”

“I have no time for pleasantries or half-witted pleadings.”

“Sorry sir – err, Supreme Leader. Won’t happen ag-,”

“It will be to your benefit to only speak when spoken to.” His glare withered every remaining fragment of hope which resided just behind your eyes. “Now, tell me, why do you think you have the position that you do?” Every word slithered from him in an encrypted riddle.

Trembling fingers flexed at your sides, your heart racing into indiscernibility. “I was chosen by Commander Ren. I know this.”

“Precisely.” He brought his dusk-tinted claws in front of him, bringing their tips together to form a sharp angle. “Have you ever questioned your placement? Wondered why you weren’t vetted for the assignment?”

“In the beginning, yes.”

“Not anymore, though, no?”

It was obvious he was leading you into a trap, though you didn’t know why. “No.” Simple answers offered the most protection from such a predator as Snoke.

A low, rolling hum of gravel came from his throat, his mouth forming into a knowing smirk. The sight stabbed through your sternum. “It’s fortunate that I’ve chosen to make use of you. Calculated answers don’t bode well here, I’d suggest being more forthcoming before I change my mind.”

Pulling your lips into your teeth, you stared into the reflected blue mirroring you. “I found it questionable that I would be chosen for such an esteemed position, yes. I struggled with it for nearly two months while being assigned to my Master. I’ve since overcome whatever doubts I had.”

“It seems you shouldn’t have—” he brought his arms back down, fingers molding against the stark angle of the armrest while he leaned forward slightly “—given your upcoming trial and the events which preceded it. How much longer do you have before your initial hearing?”

“One week, sir. Exactly seven days from today.”

“And how do you suspect that will go, officer? Any early predictions? Gut feelings?”

Though you knew he wasn’t anywhere near you, his appearance – cunning and close-chested – suggested he had taken residence in your head, his questions barely questions and instead breadcrumbs. “I trust the Board will make an educated, unbiased decision. However they end up voting.”

“And the sentencing, the only thing in question is your license, yes? Nothing of more… consequence?”

This was no time to have a smart mouth, though your tongue tingled to question his motives. “My license will be revoked no matter the judgement I receive,” you said, listening as the truth slit through your efforts to avoid it, knowing completely he was making you do so purposely, “I’m being tried for my life.”

“Hm. Remind me, girl,” the way the identifier purred out sent a shudder down your arms, “how did this all start? What did you do to prompt such an uproar?”

He knew all of these answers already, only asking them to see you squirm, to force you to acknowledge his authority. “I took supplies from my Master without the proper permission to acquire them.” He didn’t want or need to hear your argument surrounding the ordeal.

“Certainly a competent professional such as yourself would have good reason to do so, correct?”

A huff of indignant air nearly escaped at the suggestion. “Not one good enough, apparently.” A flash of the man’s face came before you, remembering the way warmth flooded over your fingers while compressing his neck.

“Ah, but you disagree.”

Staring back at him, you could feel the coaxing of his implication, your eyes narrowing infinitesimally. “My thoughts are of no importance, Supreme Leader.”

A contained frenzy lit his expression before he slowly stood from the desolate throne. “Don’t discount yourself entirely, officer. Your thoughts are of much value at the moment,” the robe moved fluidly against him, like it was anatomically attached to his physique.

“How do you mean?” It was growing difficult to keep his stare, wanting nothing more than to drill your eyes to the floor.

“Maybe not your thoughts directly, but thoughts that resemble your presence, your frequency per se.” He formed another pyramid in front of his chest, eyes narrowing into you as he paced on the inclined platform. “However unknowingly, you have become quite the obstacle in Ren’s focus.”

“Sir?” He wasn’t making sense. Whatever he thought had to be a misunderstanding.

“It’s only recently become an issue of mine, hence why I allowed it for so long. And your disruption has proven an asset, in a way turning my disadvantage to an equitable benefit.”

There was no other respectable way to tell him you didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, so you stood there, eyes tracking his patterned steps while he kept you locked under his own. “Such a young, impressionable officer. The odds were against you to begin with, so I can see the allure his power had, see how you could be so ignorant to the consequences of your decision. Well, I suppose it wasn’t your decision alone, was it?”

A furious intuition rang in your ears to keep still, to disallow any reactions to his speech, to try and tune it out completely if you could. He was walking you down a dangerous path of admission. Again you stayed silent, barely breathing now.

“I suppose I should make my point.” He stopped moving in his repetitive paths and began the descent towards you, your pulse rioting in your chest. “You are to stop all relations and contact with your Master, Commander Ren. Professional or otherwise.”

That momentary intuition turned into a permanent mental siren, skin burning as you realized Snoke knew; he knew about you and Kylo, and you didn’t know how much or how long or how or why. The only thought that could form was one of complete infraction upon your privacy. Paranoia catalyzed a brewing insanity, inwardly questioning ever interaction you’d had with your Master, backtracking routes to imagine any covert cameras or onlookers. If Snoke knew, so did the Board. This solidified your execution. This stole your future. And all you could think of was how stupid you’d been to believe it would’ve resulted in anything other than your own pain and suffering.

“Of course I hate to be the one to get in the way of young love, but-,”

“What? I don’t love him.” The objection came before the words had formed in thought, fast and fumbled as you rejected his phrasing.

Snoke’s face fell to a disinterested snarl, his steps leading him ever closer as his robe draped off of him, smoke following fire. “I don’t care about the details, only that your existence in Commander Ren’s—” a small, terrible smirk turned his expression sinister “—Kylo’s, I suppose, life has begun to distract him from his duties.”

“And how would you know any of this is true? What if you’ve received false information?”

“Speak when spoken to, girl!” He flung out a hand, with it coming the most intense blockade to oxygen you’d ever experienced, blood immediately pounding against your skull. “Did you really think it was a coincidence you were the only officer to receive a letter upon arrival to the Finalizer? Did you think yourself so entirely special and set apart that I, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, would care enough – or at all – to welcome the most lackluster provider in the program?” He was full on roaring, ears pierced with each booming, malicious redundancy.

He began to circle you, your feet lifting from the floor as the Force continued to steal your breath. “It made no sense for Ren to request such a subpar provider as you, so I gathered intel, placed surveillance of my own, formed a team to compile all the information and present it to me when it became an issue as I knew it would from the beginning.”

Heaves of wordless pleas came as you gripped onto your own throat, clawing at hands that weren’t there, vision blackening as time went on. “I’ve watched you, seen your friends, listened to your conversations.” A hysterical, crazed laugh bellowed from him, the scraps of skin over his neck bouncing in rhythm. “You didn’t even think twice about being the only provider to live with her Master. Didn’t even have the brainpower to suspect something was off. Stupid, emotional girl.” The darkness in the clear blue of his eyes was unsettling, like there was no soul behind them at all. “You are not, and will never be, special. You will only ever be the start and end of the issue.”

By now your lips were surely blue, the vessels in your eyes on the verge of explosion, but he was relentless in his point. “You’ve quite the stamina, though I regard there isn’t much choice involved,” he said, sly staining his features. “I could be wrong, given I’ve only heard a few of your… interactions, and viewed just one. Though, I can’t believe you’d want anything to do with him after the incident last month.”

If it could, blood would be filling your cheeks with a desert heat fueled by the fires of embarrassment and disgust at the thought of Snoke knowing about your relationship, let alone hearing you, seeing you, have your will taken away. Every sexual interaction you’d shared with Kylo ran quick and fleeting across your fading sight, wondering which ones he was referring to, simultaneously wanting to know and to never think of the fact ever again. Although the invisible grip kept strong around your neck, you felt the urge to vomit, to reject completely the knowledge he’d just given you.

“Trial this, door that, practice this, Robbie that. All of these things lie just below the forefront of his mind, distractions from his true responsibilities. And they all focus around you and your pathetic, meaningless life.” Snoke bit off the words as spit sprayed in the low light.

Altogether his hand came down and your knees crumbled onto the floor below, the joints screaming in protest while your lungs flourished with new, vibrant gusts of oxygen. Palms pressed to the floor, spit coughing past your lips and onto your reflected face, you allowed your body to find equilibrium, all the while aware of the predacious nature of Snoke’s paces.

“What can I do that will fix any of this?” There was no longer a need to show respect, bluntness forming over your tongue now as hiccups of breath swelled in your chest.

“As I mentioned, you may have started this ordeal, but you will be the one to end it as well.” His steps stopped just in your periphery, a long pause forming between you, his own reflected face just feet from yours. “I’ve chosen to take this as an opportunity to both refocus Ren and reinforce his priorities, and you’ll find this arrangement will be beneficial to the both of us,” his pitch rose just enough as he said your last name to run creeping chills down your arms.

“If I’m such a wrench in your plans, why not just kill me? Wouldn’t it be easier?” Sitting back on your heels you rubbed your temples, vision still not wanting to focus.

“Easier, yes. Though, ending your life would barely serve to my advantage. I don’t understand why, but Ren is rather invested in you. To kill you would be to make him my enemy, and I still have use for him and his legacy as of now.”

“I will never, ever, do your dirty work. You disgust me.” Blinking back in the light, his second face met the first and aligned into one solid image, your pulse still pounding in your ears.

“Don’t make up your mind so fast, officer. I believe once you hear the exchange I’ll make for your compliance that you will be more than eager to join forces.”

He was the most repulsive being you had ever laid eyes on, or ever had to exist with that you’d ever met; a disgusting, selfish, transactional man – still up for debate – who only did anything to advance his own agenda. It was easy to identify what amplified the blood in your veins, to know the culprit that prickled your cheeks in rage. Within you, staring up at this thing, all you knew was how overwhelming the feeling of pure, centered, unrivaled hatred was when it rooted at your sternum and spread until every cell in your body screamed in protest at his presence.

“Even if you did have anything I’d ever want, I would never accept it. I have a duty to protect and serve my Master. Only him. Never you.”

“You’re more oblivious than I thought,” he said, beginning his circling again as you listened to the shifting echo of his voice. “I suppose I’ll put two-and-two together for you: in exchange for your gracious compliance, I will ensure you come out of your trial with not only your life – however small and pointless it may be – but also your license to practice.”

He stopped behind you, your face hidden from his observance. The two guards stood firm in their blockading of any exit, the two open abysses free to jump into anytime, though you didn’t believe you held the courage to off yourself. Someone else would need to do it. You wished someone would, now.

Devastation cut into your intestines as you realized you had begun to consider his offer; to your utter disturbance, he held exactly what you wanted, what you knew you needed. A guarantee so grand could only be made by a man of his caliper, the strings he held both incredibly invisible yet impressive in their multitudes. Snoke had the power to make this part of your life disappear, to pluck you out of this misery like it never happened in the first place. But as you regarded earlier, you didn’t know if you wanted to leave the entirety of this season, portraits of perfect lips flickering into your thoughts and reminding you of the compliance you’d be tasked with, noting Snoke had yet to explain it.

Swallowing, hating yourself for considering him, you closed your eyes. “If I accepted, what would I need to do?”

“When you accept, you would simply have to quit Ren’s service. Tell him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Tell him how he disgusts you. How everything he does, every person he kills is makes you sick. Tell him how he’s an irredeemable bastard who isn’t worthy of your… care. Tell him how for the past month it was easier to hate him than it was to breathe. It’s that simple.”

A terrifying ripple of regret tore through you, inwardly regarding how all of those things had been true. They had been. However long ago it was now, though, this morning had worked to undo nearly all of those damages. “You know it’s not simple,” you bit back a derogatory name, still aware of the bottomless pits framing the platform, “why does it have to come from me? Why can’t you tell him? Or Hux? Why does it have to be me?”

“You are the key, officer.” He came back into view, his presence prompting you back to your feet, arms crossed and face flat. “If anyone else were to inform him, it would be clinical. Corporate. You and I both know Ren isn’t keen on being told what to do, especially when there is no reason for him to do so.”

Slowly your heart was coming down, fingers digging into your arms as he continued to speak. “But from you, oh from you,” he emphasized, his tone growing in volume and exuberance, “it will be a personal attack on his soul. For someone he regards with such admiration, though ill-placed and confused, to tell him they don’t want him…”

“It will break him,” you finished the thought, voice a broken whisper.

“And in turn undo the damage you’ve caused. Something I’ve come to realize in my lifetime: betrayal is a powerful motivator.”

Was it selfish to believe that what you’d caused wasn’t damage? To choose to view how his thoughts caressed you as something wonderful and worthy of cherishing instead of a plague which poisoned him? To even have that knowledge now incited the light from a million stars. To know that his stunt last month was brought on by doubts placed by the same man who was recruiting you to hurt him in an irreversible way was to feel your heart piece back together. He really hadn’t wanted to, but in some way he was made to. Within your chest lied an immeasurable amount of disgust, eating away at your withering resolve. Not for Snoke, but for yourself. Taking any opportunity to stall your decision, you fought back tears while inquiring further.

“And if I choose not to? What then?”

Snoke’s eyes momentarily lit, surprise quickly returning to a shuddering contempt. “You would die for him? Give your life for Kylo Ren, the one who made you-,”

“Don’t you dare say anything about that night. You’re the one who instigated his actions, I know it.”

Like it had been there all along, a bright white fury shone against your face, the clean blade of Snoke’s lightsaber buzzing just next to your ear. You listened as hair singed off, smelled as it blew down to your shoulder in its fried state.

“Even so,” he said, apathy palpable in his voice, “you asked what would happen if you refused? Well, it wouldn’t make sense for me to kill you here and now, debilitating any future opportunity I would have at using you to my advantage.”

The weapon’s heat started to burn against the sensitive skin of your face, its proximity prompting sweat at your hairline. “No, if you refuse me, blatantly renounce your Supreme Leader, I’d use much more effective, much more… personalized tactics.” He angled the lightsaber so its tip was just below your ear lobe, its vibrations lingering into the trembling skin over your neck. “Maybe first I’d finish what Ren couldn’t in that McCarty physician you like so much. Though I’d still ensure you endured your trial, even when I would make it impossible for the Board to grant you your life. Maybe even arrange to execute you myself,” he narrowed his eyes, “or, I’m sure Ren would have no problem volunteering himself after I tell him how you informed me of your affair in an effort to quit his service.”

A rage-stuttered laugh came from your chest. “You’re the irredeemable bastard.”

Snoke snarled once more before quieting the white fury of his blade, your sight inking in its absence. “This is a one-time offer, girl. Don’t let the urgency of your youth blind you from your reality.”

It only angered you more that he was making sense. “And what would that be?”

The flesh at his jaw set uncomfortably against his healed injury. “You have something I need, and I have something you need. It’s simple business.”

“Nothing about this will ever be simple.” The phrase was vacant in tone and broken with acceptance.

He knew he was about to get what he wanted. “Do we have a deal, officer?” He extended his decrepit hand, a notion of finality.

Shaking your head, one single tear – hot and betraying and shattered – ran down your cheek, your head a concoction of torment. You didn’t want to do this at all, but just as he’d done to Kylo, Snoke wriggled your head full of contradicting truths. Truths you had worked hard to suppress, truths which lied dormant until now. A half-skip in your heart bloomed from the thought of never spending another moment with your Master, a harrowing torrent of guilt as you regarded his verbalized trust, visualizing how entirely decimated it would be when this was over. Not even decimated. Completely obliterated. Like it never existed in the first place.

“When does this have to be done by?” you whimpered, hand falling into his before his knotted joints cracked into your knuckles.

“By the end of today, if Kylo Ren hasn’t returned to his focus, your trial will become the biggest waste of time and currency the galaxy will ever bear witness to.” He dropped your hand, clasping his together within the confines of his robe, turning back to his throne. “Take her away.”

Not that you were aware, physically or mentally, your arms were ceased once more as your feet dragged lifelessly below you, face stunted as hatred burned below the surface, floods of shame and loathing dripping down your neck and staining into your uniform. The trip back down seemed impossibly short, though you didn’t know if that was due to its direction or your indifference. Before, your only thought had been never leaving from Snoke’s presence. Now, as you stared into the bustling crowds of the Finalizer, the doors locking shut behind you as your earlier captors vaulted back to their leader, your only thoughts were focused on the harm you were indebted to cause. A pain that scraped against the very foundation of your being. A pain you were now required to deliver.

“Hey, stranger!” Mason came out of nowhere, his cheery voice violent against your somber ears.

“I can’t talk right now, Mason,” you said, hiding your face and turning towards the Elite lobby.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did Ren do some-,”

“Go away, Mason!”

He caught you by your wrist, your arm lurching back towards him before he caught view of your crushing expression. He lulled your name, eyes dancing over your features. “What is this about? Your trial?”

Lips trembling and brow creased, you yanked your arm from his. “Don’t worry about the trial, Mason. It’s handled.”

Turning away from him you dashed into the crowds. “What does that even mean?” Mason shouted at you.

A heave crested your back, face split in an agonizing grimace while you licked salty tears from your mouth. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, only saying it out loud to solidify the reality Snoke had pointed out.

“It means I have to go home.”

[starjeno]

bloom | n.jm | 3

genre: angst, fluff? | hanahaki!au pairing: student!jaemin x female!reader warnings: mentions of vomiting, mentions of surgery, therapy summary: jaemin suffers from a special kind of unrequited love — one that makes him choke out flowers. a/n: it took me so long to hash out a way to end this but i’m pleased with it :) this’ll be the last part to bloom! glad you enjoyed bubs.  

jaemin feels at peace.

it’s a strange state for him to be in, especially since he went through such physical and emotional turmoil years prior. his throat is still healing from the apple blossom branch that was once in him and he still has that bad habit of checking for a bathroom at any venue, but when he watched you get ready earlier, it’s almost as if those quirks never existed. he’s unbelievably happy, especially today.

the doors in the back open and everyone in the hall turns to watch you, wrapped in white lace and silk, walk blissfully down the lane. jaemin’s eyes soften at your shy smile and your taut knuckles gripping the blooming bouquet. he knows you’re nervous, this is all you've talked about for the last few months. luckily, jaemin was available to help comfort your nerves, easing much of the burden off you.

“she’s stunning, right?” jeno whispers, leaning in to whisper in his ear. jaemin nods in agreement, clasping his hands as he sees you approach the front. you meet his gaze and smile wider, making his face flush with happiness.

jaemin grips the bed in nervousness, watching as the nurses around him arrange various tubes and tools on different tables. he looks at the head surgeon with worry, “what’s the success rate again?”

“83 percent,” the man reassures warmly, “we’ll just clean out your lungs and pull the plant out of your throat. you’ll have two weeks to recover and get used to your stitches.”

“will it hurt?” jaemin murmurs, already knowing the answer.

“you’ll be asleep.”

jaemin sighs as the lights brighten above him, and he readjusts his arm to allow the nurses to shoot some substances up his veins. he feels his body heat up before his eyelids get heavy.

jaemin wonders where you are right now. you’re probably in one of your classes, checking your phone, painfully oblivious to the professor’s glares. you might be excited for later tonight since jeno promised to drive over to your university so you could binge a new show together. he thinks about the last message he sent to you ━ making up some excuse about his parents to hide all this.

he only thinks about you before he drifts off to unconsiousness.

jaemin watches as you glance up with watering eyes, struggling to not ruin your makeup. the vows are bumpy, with you struggling not to laugh or cry. jaemin finds it endearing. knowing his best friend is experiencing the best day of her life makes him feel ecstatic, like a puppy. you meet his stare again and cup your hair behind your ears, the both of you smiling proudly.

he knows you could’ve loved him. he knows that if he confessed, it could’ve been him in front of you at the altar, watching you blush at his words. but jaemin’s too shy, too careful, to confess such strong feelings without absolute certainty. there were too many unknowns, too many risks.

plus, it doesn’t really matter anymore.

what matters is that jaemin is healthy and alive. jeno cheers when the marriage is finally sealed with the promising words and a kiss, and jaemin can’t help but follow suit. the whole hall is filled with congratulations and tears. jaemin waits for you to separate from your new husband before he walks up, lifting you up in a tight embrace. you’re so unbelievably grateful for his friendship for all these years, you even begged your husband to make jaemin his best man.

“jaem, i’m so happy. it’s unreal,” you whisper in his shoulder, and jaemin grins. he feels the same way.

“jaemin!” jeno busts in, backing up when he realizes his friend is awake. jaemin gives a weak grin and lifts up his arm in greeting, “hey.”

“are you good?” jeno questions worriedly, fixing jaemin’s bedsheets and sitting by the machines, “is the plant gone? you won’t die?”

jaemin pretends to pout, startling jeno, but then laughs softly, “yes, yes, and yes.”

he takes a quick glance at the pitcher of water by his bedside, and jeno springs up to fetch a cup. jaemin smiles softly as he watches his best friend prepare a cup eagerly, and takes a long sip. jeno waits until he puts the cup down before continuing, “so, what about ____?”

jaemin automatically straightens up, expecting something to flow upwards at the mention of your name. he had forgotten why the flower was a problem in the first place. he concentrates hard, remembering your features and the way you feel in his arms, but other than a comforting warmth, jaemin doesn’t detect any flustering feelings. he looks at jeno with wide eyes, not sure if he should smile or frown, “nothing.”

“nothing? no vomit, no petals, nothing?” jeno asks confused. jaemin shakes his head, “i mean, yeah, but ━ i don’t, i don’t feel all fuzzy anymore either.”

his eyes are wide as he stares at his hands, “i really lost my feelings.”

jeno wants to scream with delight, but at the sight of his serious-faced friend, he holds back, “hey, that’s okay. you can move on now.”

jaemin bobs his head subconsiously. he’s overwhelmed with the fact that he actually has a future now.

the reception is incredibly crowded. jaemin struggles to squeeze through to get to his assigned table. he glances at the name cards and sees ‘jeno’ and ‘____’ seated beside him. before he could find you, you pop up beside him, grinning happily, “you found your seat!”

“i did. congratulations to you and renjun. i’m so happy for you,” he praises, wrapping you in another hug. you push him away playfully, “when will i be able to congratulate you? hurry up and find someone, jaem!”

jaemin responds with his signature bright smile, but he doesn’t reply. he can’t bring himself to tell you that it’ll never happen ━ that he’ll never love someone as much as he loved you. he hasn’t even told jeno that he hasn’t felt anything for a human for the past five years.

not even a hint of attraction.

his heart rate hasn’t sped up in so long, jaemin can’t even remember what being flustered feels like. he doesn’t even feel urges anymore. at this point, jaemin is unsure when he’ll ever find someone that fits with him as much as you did. he’s positive he’s meant to be alone.

“you’re not alone,” the therapist quips, resting his elbow on the desk. jaemin shakes his head, “but i feel alone.”

the man shifts in his seat, “hanahaki is incredibly rare, almost unheard of. there’s a side effect to the surgery that few patients have reported.”

“what?” jaemin lift his head, curious.

“they never love again.”

jaemin’s eyes widen in devastation, disbelief in his tone, “i thought you just lose feelings for whoever you loved.”

the man jots something down on a sticky note, “for the majority of surgical patients, that is true. but there’s a few that also experienced what you experienced. complete loss of attraction. i can look more into it for you.”

“yes, thank you, doctor,” jaemin sighs, leaning back on the sofa. he pauses before speaking again, “nothing i say will come out of this room, right?”

“right, why?” jaemin hears the familiar click of the clipboard coming out and takes a swallow of air, “sometimes i wish i didn’t get the surgery.”

“how come?” the man responds in a calming tone. jaemin turns his head to meet his stare, sadness clouding his bright eyes, “i have to live now with nothing. i-i can’t tell if this empty feeling is better than having someone to love. i can’t feel that anymore. i-”

jaemin stutters over his words. the therapist approaches the sofa with concern. 

“if i had died, i would’ve spent my last moments loving someone. now that i’m still here, what will my last moments be?

jeno stands up first, raising his glass high and letting the champagne inside swirl. he gives jaemin a bright smile before pacing around the room, retelling a funny story about you and your husband. the whole speech is practiced to perfection, paused at the right moments and emphasized for effect. everyone claps at the end of his toast and jeno takes a deep bow before sitting. you’re quietly crying with laughter, biting your lip to try to calm down.

at your signal, jaemin stands up straight, adjusting his tie. he’s nervous when he looks at everyone around. these are your friends and your family. your parents smile fondly at jaemin, recalling the small boy who used to ignore their daughter. he clears his throat, reciting the words he rehearsed in the mirror countless times. you watch his movements carefully, noting his hands fiddling with his cuffs every time he takes a step to the left. it’s amazing to you: this is the jaemin who went to high school with you. the one who put aside saturdays for you and comforted you all throughout college.

as you watched jaemin’s eyes land on you, you feel your heart beat faster. his warm gaze only held happiness for you and you could feel your lips tug into a wide smile.

you feel at peace.

prev | masterlist

[hotsexydorks]

Work in Progress / Chpt 8 - Pregame 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449911/chapters/52045534

“God damn it.” First Scott decides to convince him that this was a good idea. All that he thought it could be was a way for the neighbouring teams to build strategies against them. While Scott harped on about there needing to be more camaraderie between them all. Some bullshit laced with the options for them to build friendships and get better as players through more varied teams. 

But to his defence Coach didn’t know many that were able to deny the unmistakable charm of Scott McCall. Especially when his mouth was wrapped around your cock and those innocent brown eyes were staring back up at you. He shuddered to think about the day that some man would be able to say no to him. To not want to give him everything that he wanted, which usually started with a load… or two. 

Rubbing his temples Coach caught a glimpse of something that would help him, rather someone. 

“Stilinski!” He yelled across the field, the boy was emerging on the other side leaving the locker rooms in his dust. 

That sound was like a drill going through his ear, slamming through his mind and piercing his thoughts. He jogged lightly over to the man, forgetting in that moment that he wasn’t a student anymore. That he didn’t need to actually listen to him as his coach anymore. 

“What up Coach? I see you’re as still as happy to see me as you --” 

Bobby rolled his eyes and rubbed his head. It was already too much. “Look, I just need to know if you’ve seen McCall anywhere. Can you do that, answer a simple question?” 

Stiles stopped where he had been interrupted and tried to put it all together again, his brain mentally continuing while his body had stopped. “No.. I mean no to the question. Well not the question. I can answer a simple question, but what I actually mean to say is that the no was the answer to the first part but yeah that I can totally answer a simple question. My favourite thing to do, simple… “ 

This time didn’t even have it in him to stop the kid, even after he left school it seemed he hadn’t changed much. It was a bit creepy how the same he was. “Right. Just. Okay! That’s enough. Just go take a seat or something. I have an assistant coach to go find.” Bobby dropped the clipboard he had in his hands. Throwing it to the floor near the benches before walking off and leaving Stiles and the field behind him. 

He had seen Scott earlier that day so he knew that he had come to work but where he was, that was a different story. Bobby decided to search backwards from the locker rooms. Taking his time he searched each section of them before moving on to the next. First stop had been the locker rooms, each of them emptied now that the teams were out on the fields doing rounds and drills. The only thing that Bobby had found was one room that had been left a mess with towels all over it. Dropped all over the place, at least they all had to use their own things. Bobby left the lockers and tried the gym. Maybe his assistant was getting supplies, but alas he didn’t find anything there. The lights in the gym were even turned off. Sighing the coach decided to try the regular classrooms. Maybe if he hadn’t been helping he might have been doing the other thing he had become so famously known for; being a slut. 

Room after room Bobby went through before he even stopped in the staff room but nothing there either. It wasn’t until he got closer down the hallway did he hear a sound. A sound that probably wasn’t the most normal sound to be coming from there; down the corridor was the principal's office. If there was any sounds there he wouldn’t have thought it to the sounds of  faint groaning. Once he had gotten down to the room he didn’t waste any time in opening the door. Here he finally found his assistant: but just not exactly as he thought he would. 

In the room there wasn’t anyone else but Scott there. The source of the groaning coming from the boy as he lay there. But it was more than just laying there. Instead of being able to move freely, he was tied down; his arms were pulled back and his legs pulled wide apart exposing his body. He didn’t have any clothes on him and the state of his body didn’t leave much to the imagination. Even through his tanned skin Bobby could see the red marks that only a man of Thomas’ vigour could have left. 

Scott smiled when he realised who had come to his rescue. When he heard the sound of someone walking around the corridors he thought it was a risky move but to his luck it turned out to be just a person he needed. As he raised his head to look down his body at the coach he was smiling at him. “Hey Coach, glad you found me, would you mind?” He asked him while wiggling his hands and feet that were kept down with the restraints. 

“Alright you’ve got exactly one chance to explain to me why, this, is excusable.” Bobby told him as he got closer, starting to work on the knots. Did Thomas always have to flex his boy scout muscles or was this just a particularly special occasion.

Scott nodded as he lay back again, since Coach had come up to him he didn’t need to strain himself to look over at him. “Well.. It started this morning.” Scott started to retell the events of what happened to him. 

“I got into school and went straight to the staff room so that I could eat my breakfast while I went over everything that we needed to the matches today. But when I got there I found that the microwave had been broken before I got in so I went over to Harris’ room to ask him if I could use his. He keeps a secret one in the back of his room just off of the storage. But when I went in to ask him he said I could only use it if I did him a favour. Which I thought was fair you know, after all he was going to let me use his microwave. “ Scott flexed his foot once it was freed, the rope had been keeping his leg locked down so his blood flow had slowed a bit. 

“So I got on my knees and pulled out his cock and blew him. I’m not sure if it was cause he wasn’t really in the mood or if he had something on his mind but he took a really long time to cum. So long that by the time I could tell I was getting him close the bell rang and a class filed into the room!” Bobby’s hands slowed as he became more and more invested in Scott’s antics.  

“The class had started before I even had a chance to try sneak away. Luckily the desk that Harris has is completely solid. I had thought about stopping but since I was already there, I figured I might as well continue. If I wasn’t going to be able to move I might as well ; you know, keep going. But this time I was careful. I didn’t make any noise and whenever I felt him getting close I stopped and slowed down. It would have been obvious if he came during the middle of class. So when his class was finally finished he pulled me into the store room and went to town on my mouth. He didn’t stop pumping into me until he shot his load down my throat. “ It hadn’t taken much for the story to grip him, but by now he knew that he was more than just interested he was invested. That was if the tent in his shorts were anything to go by. 

The story prattled on as Scott continued. 

“So. After that I went to the gym. I knew there was still loads of time but I wanted to get all the equipment ready and loaded so I started to bring them from the gym over to the side locker rooms. While I was doing that Ken found me and started to help me, and I knew that once he had started to help I couldn’t just let him do that without any sort of thanks. So I took him over to the equipment room and pulled my pants down. It took a little convincing. He said that he had heard some rumours about me but didn’t think they were true. But after I started to explain to him that it was alright he started to get a bit more into it. At first he was hesitant so I started out by blowing him while he sat down on a bench. After that when I asked him if he wanted to try something else he started to say it was too far. But by then it only took me sitting down on his hard cock before he changed his tune. After he realised what he was doing he told me he had never tried anal before, and that his wife never let him. So I let him fuck me a few times in different positions in there.” Scott broke his story to look over at the man, the untying of knots having stopped during his tale. “Don’t worry I cleaned it all up!” He told him; as if that was the part that had Bobby stopped in his tracks. 

“But after that I had four of his loads in me at that point. It was a good thing that I carry around a plug in my bag wherever I go. He just seemed to keep pouring more and more in me I could feel it in me while I moved. Once I got myself plugged, I had to go see Principal Thomas for the consent forms that we need to get for the team trip next month. I guess my shorts are a bit too tight cause he said he could see the plug in me when I bent over in front of him. He tied me down to the table and had his way with me. He played with my body until he decided to finish up for the day and just left me here.” 

Bobby’s attention had shifted towards the former player’s ass; it hadn’t been a well kept secret about Scott. At least not after his little stunt with the team one night. Of course the night he decided to reward the team for winning their first match was also the night that both Harris and Thomas were there to watch it. When they came to congratulate them, they were only slightly surprised when they saw Scott bouncing on some of the players’ cocks while he was praising them. It didn’t take long before they joined in, apparently Scott’s ass in his shorts were a topic of some conversation. 

Once he pulled Scott’s round cheeks apart he could see the plug in question. After hearing his story the situation started to make sense, what started to make more sense were the tally marks on his ass. Bobby counted seven marks on Scott’s ass. With one from Harris, and the four to Ken’s name, that left two for Thomas. The coach wasted no time in pulling out the plug, cum immediately starting to dribble from Scott’s hole. 

“Hey Coach??” Scott asked with a furrowed brow, he had stopped untying him and pulled out the only thing keeping the desk free from cum. “I don’t think no is real--” 

Bobby didn’t listen to him. His cock had long since taken over from his rational mind. Plunging deep into Scott’s loose hole he moaned quietly as he started to pump unceremoniously into him. There were times where Bobby couldn’t believe what was happening. If he hadn’t been the one doing it , he would have thought that it was all just some weird sketchy rumour. One of the former star players of the team was a slut, a big ol dumb slut that was still somehow so innocent. It went against everything that he should have stood for as a teacher and educator, but somehow as he looked down at Scott’s face full of bliss with a cock sliding in and out of the used hole he didn’t seem to mind as much. 

“Fuck.. Scotty. I can feel the mess they made here. Don’t let a drop out you hear.” In Scott’s ass he could feel the loads left by the other men; Scott’s body keeping them warm in him. 

The younger moaned loudly as the stretch pushed deeper and deeper inside of him. The man’s length repeatedly hitting all the right places in him time after time. Drool pooled at the side of Scott’s fucked out smile, slowly starting to trickle down from his mouth. His eyes rolled back and half closed as he zoned out from being fucked again. Each sharp thrust making his body bounce on the table. Scott not being able to stop himself from letting out small giggles while he was being used again by the man. 

Bobby didn’t have long but he did have enough time to pump a thick load into his star’s ass.”Fucking.. Shit…” Bobby groaned as he rode the final waves of his orgasm. He didn’t waste any time. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” He shoved the plug back into Scott’s hole, replacing it quickly without letting any of the churned up cum escape. 

Once Scott was free he grabbed his clothes and put back on the outfit he had been wearing earlier. The shorts indeed tight on his ass and enough to show off the plug when he bent over, but only if you were watching him carefully. 

Bobby slapped the other’s fat ass, his hand pushing in deep to hit the base of the plug causing Scott to jump and moan loudly again. “If you’re good I’ll give you more at half time.” 

Scott smiled widely as he jogged back to the field to get on with the rest of the match his mind now truly elsewhere. 

[gaiyofanfiction]

Lost in the Dream: The Sorcerer

Shownu - Wonho - Minhyuk - Kihyun - Hyungwon - Jooheon - IM

Minhyuk x Reader

Drama/Slight Horror

Lost in the Dream Mini Series

A/N: I’m so glad everyone has been liking my Lost in the Dream series! Sorry it took so long to post the next part. I was so excited about it in the beginning and thought it was going to be one of my best, but I feel like I really fucked up the ending... Oh well...Here’s Minhyuk’s! ~Yosei

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction. Any portrayal of the Members of Monsta X to be anything but amazing and kind is fiction and only used for this story.

“Y/N...”

You turn your head to the side, reacting to the voice speaking your name. But no matter which direction you turn, there’s nothing but blackness all around you.

“Y/N...”

There it is again, the sweet sounding voice of a man calling out your name. Just then, you see a figure in the distance. His white hair and porcelain skin contrasts the surrounding darkness. His gorgeous eyes meet yours.

“Come to me, Y/N. It’s time...”

He reaches out his hand, waiting for you to take it into yours. Like your hand has a mind of it’s own, you reluctantly reach for the boy’s hand, entranced by his commanding presence. Like in slow motion, your hand is just barely touching his...

BRIIIING BRIIIING BRIIIING!

Immediately, you jolt awake and slam your hand down on your alarm. Your entire body was drenched in sweat and your breathing erratic.

‘That nightmare. Was that-?’

You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. ‘No, it couldn’t be.’

You casually glance over at the clock and squeal, scrambling out of bed. It already read 7:00am and school started in an hour. You take the quickest show of your life and throw on a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt. You throw your hair in two pig tails and grab your backpack, heading out the door.

You make it to the school building with 10 minutes to spare. You sigh with relief and head to your first class. Walking in, you see your two friends, Sana and Youngjae sitt in the back corner. They notice you and wave you over, smiling. You forced a small smile on your face, but your mind can’t stop wondering about that dream you had.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up?,” Youngjae smiles sweetly at you.

Sana tilts her head in concern at your grunt of a response. “Hey, Y/N. Is everything alright?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and shake your head. Leaning closer to the two, your next sentence comes out in a whisper. “I-I think I got... The Call.”

Sana gasps lightly, a hand to her mouth. “No! Are you serious? You have to tell someone! The teacher or the police or someone!”

Youngjae rolls his eyes. “There’s no such thing as The Call, you two. I don’t know why all you girls are so obsessed with this myth.”

Sana shoots him a glare, “it’s not just a myth! There have been girls that have gone missing before and it was proven to be by ‘Them’! And now, it’s this regions turn!”

The ‘Them’ Sana mentioned; Sorcerers. For years, there’s a legend to your country. Your country is divided up into 7 different regions. There’s rumoured to be one powerful Sorcerer that lives in each region. When each Sorcerer turns 25, they come to an individual in a dream, usually female. In each dream, the person is offered their hand. If said person touches the hand of the Sorcerer, you will forever belong to them, bound in not only wedlock, but bound in a very powerful magic. They call this dream, ‘The Call’. If you get The Call, the Sorcerer will not stop until you become theirs. But the catch; They can only summon you from a dream.

There are 7 Sorcerers, one for each region. Hyunwoo, Hoseok, Minhyuk, Kihyun, Hyungwon, Jooheon and Changkyun. So far, two girls from different regions have gone missing. Those regions are rumored to belong to Hyunwoo and Hoseok. Now, it seems like Minhyuk, your region’s Sorcerer, is on the look out.

And he’s chosen you.

Your anxiety rises imagining yourself being taken by this mysterious and possibly dangerous man. “W-What do I do? I don’t want to be taken away!” You hiss, voice laced with fear.

Sana grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You still have a chance. All you have to do is ignore his advancements in the dreams and you’ll be fine! He can’t take you in real life unless you touch him in the dream!”

“It’s not as easy as you might think,” You mumble as you hear the door to the classroom open. The three of you turn your attention to the front.

Your literature teacher begins to talk about the book that was assigned to your class to read, Animal Farm by George Orwell. As much as you tried to pay attention, the only think you had on your mind was Minhyuk.

“Y/N,” Your head snaps up when Mr. Park called your attention. “What are the principal recurring elements in Mr. Orwell’s work?”

You clear your throat, trying to come up with an answer. Thankfully, you actually read the book and are able to come up with something quick.

“W-well, there are several themes in Animal Farm. Some of those include; Leadership and corruption, control of naïve working class, lies and deception, and dreams and hopes.” You glance up to the teacher to make sure you were on the right track. He nods and motions for you to elaborate. “The main themes in Animal Farm leadership and corruption. Animal Farm portrays the history of the Russian Revolution by retelling the development of communism.”

You wait for the teacher to take the lead and continue on with a different person but that never came. You look up at the teacher and notice he’s...completely frozen?! You look around the room and notice every single one of your classmates was frozen in time.

You stand up slowly and cautiously walk up to Mr. Park and wave a hand in front of his face. Nothing. Then, you take to poking his arm and immediately pull your hand back. It was nothing but ice cold.

“What the fu-”

“Y/N.”

You freeze at the mention of your name. You recognize that voice and it sent shivers up your spine. Slowly, you turn your head towards the voice and come face to face with the last person you ever wanted to see.

The Sorcerer, Minhyuk.

You immediately stumble back, away from the man who haunted your dreams. He was adorned with a pitch black, low cut V-neck shirt. His gorgeous face painted with what looks like to be some kind of face paint. “W-What are you d-doing here?! W-What do you want?! What did you do to them?!”

He slowly takes one step forward, sending you to take three steps back. He chuckles and glances you up and down, a small smirk gracing his features.

“Why, I came for you, my Little Dove.”

You shake your head wildly, “n-no, you can’t take me. This isn’t a dream state! You have no power over me right now!”

Minhyuk suddenly appears right in front of you, making you stumble back into the windows on the classroom. He leans forward so his lips are grazing your ear, hands deep into his pockets.

“And what makes you think I can’t just take you with me right here, right now? I real life?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your body trembling from the proximity of your two bodies to each other.

“B-Because that’s what t-the myth says. Y-You only can take someone in a dream state and they have to physically touch you.”

Minhyuk chuckles and retreats back to his original place. You quietly sigh with relief from his moving away. He runs a pale hand through his white locks.

“Well, you are correct, my Little Dove. No, I can’t take you right here and now. But I will come to you again, next time in your dream.”

You look down for a split second at your shaking hands, “but why me?” When you look back up, the man standing in front of you is gone.

“Um, Y/N? Why are you standing? Are you alright?” Your teacher, suddenly unfrozen, stares at you in question. You look around the room to see all of the students, also unfrozen, are following suit.

All of this hit you at once. Your anxiety starts to flare up and you need to get out of there. Now.

You grab your backpack and books from your desk, “I-I’m sorry, I have to go.” And without a glance back, you race out the classroom door.

You run as fast as you can out the door of that school. Nothing, not even a car almost killing you, can stop you from getting home. As soon as you make it to your apartment, you slam and lock the door behind you. You collapse to the ground, breathing heavy and trying to pass your anxiety attack.

For the next several hours, you do everything in your power to stay awake. Drink coffee, play video games, run on your treadmill, anything. 

‘Don’t fall asleep, Y/N. Don’t fall asleep.’

Try as you might, there’s no stopping the power of anxiety and exhaustion. The next thing you know, you drift off into a dream state.

Suddenly, you’re back in that dark room. But there’s something different about this room. This time, you didn’t land here alone.

You see the white haired Sorcerer standing across from you, wearing the same set of clothes he did in the classroom. He once again reaches out his hand towards you.

“Y/N, come to me.”

You shake your head and take a step back into the darkness. Minhyuk takes a step forward, looking directly into your eyes.

“My Little Dove, you belong with me. You always have.”

You stare into his enchanting eyes. Something about his gaze pulls you in. Instead of taking a step back like you wanted, your feet pull you forward. Right to him.

“But you don’t even know me.”

The gorgeous boy raises a brow, “you’re name is Y/N L/N, born September 3rd 1993, you’re 25 year’s old and born in the hometown of (City). You moved here when you were just a baby. You have two best friends, Sana and Youngjae. Need I go on?”

You shake your head, in awe at all the information that he possibly couldn’t have known. The enchantment from his stare is growing stronger, your body beginning to feel weak.

“B-but, why me?”

Minhyuk chuckles and tilts his head. “Well, my dear, a long time ago, before you were born, your parents were having some trouble conceiving children. One night, they venture out into the woods, hearing of this medicine man that supposedly can help with these kinds of things. Turns out, that man was my father.” Minhyuk pauses to gauge your reaction but you’re too far gone into his gaze to react outwardly. He continues. “He told them that he would happily give them a child to bare, but in exchange, if that child were a female, they would have to give her to one of his sons when it was time. It just so happened that you were born on the same day, of the same year, at the same time as I was. So, out of my 6 brothers, I was destined to be the one to have you. We each have to take a bride once we turn 25. However, your and my arraignment is slightly different. You were always destined to be mine.”

You would be in a complete state of shock if you weren’t so mesmerized by this man right in front of you. You wanted to scream and cry, to say it was not true. But you couldn't move. Something was pulling you toward him, something was saying this was right.

He holds out his hand one last time, a smirk gracing his lips. “Come to me, Y/N. I know we belong together, I know you feel it to. Take my hand, Y/N.”

The last of your self control leave your body as you gently place your hand into his. Almost like an immediate reaction, you feel yourself change. You look down to see you are now adorned with a black almost wedding type dress. You look back up into the face of the man that now has you and you see a genuine smile.

“You now belong to me, Y/N. We are forever bound together in this dream and in the realms of reality. When you wake up, you will know where to find me and you will immediately come to me. Do not tell anyone where you will be going,” he kisses your forehead and releases your hand. “I will see you very soon, my Little Dove.”

“It’s been over a year since Ms. Y/N L/N has gone missing. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Ms. L/N, please call your local police department.”

[Masterlist]

[concussed-to-pieces]

It’s Going To Take A Lot; Bonus

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Diesel [Kevin Nash]/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy and merry Christmas, ya' filthy animals! A little bonus content in the spirit of the season. Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and @hardcorewwetrash as ever!

Part One

Epilogue

December 24th, 1990

He stood on the front steps, his hands tucked tightly into his pockets. He could hear the faint sound of a piano being played, as well as some singing and laughter. A botched Christmas carol maybe, but no one seemed to mind that it had been botched. He swallowed hard, nervously taking off his hat and smoothing out his hair for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d arrived.

He rested his forehead against the front door for a minute, trying to muster up the courage to ring the doorbell. Finally, squaring his shoulders and gritting his teeth, he talked himself into pressing it.

The piano music ended abruptly and he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. He kept his shoulders squared, kept his jaw tight. Wish my knees would stop shaking. Does my hair still look okay? Hat might have--

She opened the door and it was like everything else faded out. All he heard was the saxophone solo from that George Michael song. The way she was lit from the back made her blonde hair look like a halo, and really? A halo? He scolded himself. But then again, that was par for the course around her. “Kevin!” He somehow heard her voice over his mental saxophone. She sounded thrilled. “You made it!”

“I promised, didn’t I?” He asked gruffly. “Thanks a million for this.” He tapped at the scarf around his neck, offering her a lazy smile. “Thing was a lifesaver on the last drive.” Kimberly flushed bright red and Diesel couldn’t help cupping her chin and bringing her in for a kiss. “Missed you.” He breathed when they parted.

“I missed you, too.” She nuzzled her nose against his jacket, her hands tucked into the back pockets of his jeans. “I’m so glad you came, Kevin.”

Diesel buried his face in her hair. “Glad I got here in time.”

“You’re good at that.”

“I’m assuming you’re Kevin?” Diesel jumped at the new voice, pulling away from his…well, his Kimberly. A short, rounder woman with curly blonde hair was regarding him with the utmost suspicion from behind Kimberly.

“Yes, uh. Yes, that’s me. You must be Kimberly’s sister.” Diesel extended his hand, more than a little gratified by the fact that Kimberly hadn’t really released him. He was confused when the woman in front of him tittered to herself.

“You didn’t tell me he was a charmer! I’m Kim-Kim’s mom, Kevin. Call me Anne.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am.” Diesel managed to say, feeling like an idiot. She told you that her siblings were younger than her, stupid!

“Likewise! I’ve heard great things.” Anne smiled like Kimberly, Diesel noticed absently, or more accurately Kimberly smiled like Anne.

“All probably false, but I appreciate you softening the blow.” Diesel teased Kimberly.

“Oh my God Kim-ber-ly, you didn’t tell us he was a Clydesdale.” The owner of the new voice had just emerged from the kitchen, and yeah, that would be the younger sister. Complete with off-the-shoulder sweater and makeup applied in experimental fervor.

“Amy, don’t be rude!” Anne scolded while Diesel tried his hardest to muffle his laughter with his arm. A Clydesdale. That was a new one on him, he’d have to tell Razor.

“No harm done, ma’am, I’m used to hearing much worse.” He cocked an eyebrow in the direction of Amy, taking in how her eyes were narrowed at him. “I get it.” He said simply, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Whatever questions you have, I’ll try my best to answer them.”

“Oh honey, please stop glaring. Your face will get stuck like that.” Anne chided Amy like she hadn’t been giving Diesel the same look not five minutes prior.

A lanky, brown-haired man with thick glasses came wandering in from what Diesel assumed was the living room, carrying a cup full of pretzels. He started visibly at the sight of the…Clydesdale in the entryway, nearly dropping his pretzels. “Oh! Hello, hello! You must be Kevin.” He fumbled the cup for a second until Kimberly finally rescued him, scooping the plastic out of his hand so he could properly greet Diesel with a firm handshake. “I’m Daniel, the Dadinator around these parts.”

“It’s great to meet you, sir.” Diesel didn’t mean to sound so stiff, he was pretty sure that Anne was the one who kept the gate in this household. He just wanted to make a decent first impression (for once in my life, please).

Daniel immediately waved off the formality, smiling down at his daughter still cozied into Diesel’s side. “Our little Kimbles seems to have taken quite the shine to you, Kevin! Her and Anne have been hard at work most of today making the traditional Christmas fare. You just missed the before-dinner carols!”

“I’m pretty sure my singing could destroy the most ravenous of appetites.” Diesel chuckled, shaking his head. “Where should I hang my coat?”

“Ah yes, the infamous coat!” Daniel winked at his oldest daughter, who rolled her eyes at him. Diesel, on the other hand, felt his face heat. His jacket would be a topic of conversation now or later, he was sure of it. “There’s hooks by the door, Kevin. Hats off indoors, Anne is very firm on that.”

“Oh, of course.” Diesel quickly yanked his trucker cap off.

“Wait!” A young boy with a mop of brown curls came skidding out of the living room, his socks squeaking on the hardwood floor. There was a tense moment where Diesel waited for the crisis to strike, but then the boy managed to catch himself before he fell. “Wait, I want to see the truck! Hat back on! Coat back on!” He demanded, making Diesel snort in disbelief.

“Jeff! Manners!” Daniel scolded, giving Diesel an apologetic look. “Sorry, he's kind of a mile a minute kid.”

“He's excited. I get it.” Diesel put his hat back on while Jeff hopped anxiously from foot to foot. “Ask your parents first, okay?” The little boy grinned excitedly, already mid-turn to beg his father to let him go see the huge rig parked out front.

…

After dinner and the cleanup, Jeff (sporting a crisp new Wolf Packing ballcap) headed up to bed without being asked. He was of the impression that the sooner he went to bed, the sooner Santa would come and the sooner he could open presents.

Daniel passed out glasses of egg nog, dosed with healthy splashes of cognac and rum. Except for Amy's, to the obvious disappointment of the self-proclaimed almost seventeen-year-old. While Anne was distracted at the counter Diesel watched Kimberly let her little sister have a sip, barely keeping himself from laughing aloud when Amy made a disgusted face.

“Alright Kevin, we want the whole sordid tale from you.” Anne said as her cherry winks made their rounds.

Diesel almost choked on his cookie. “'Scuse me?”

“They want you to tell the, uh...” Kimberly trailed off, going an attractive shade of pink.

“The epic story! Give us the rescue from your point of view.” Daniel urged, his glasses a little crooked. “It's not every day we have a real live knight at the table, after all!”

Oh God, they want a retell. Diesel took a healthy swig of the egg nog to fortify his resolve. Telling stories with Razor in a filthy bar somewhere was one thing. This was something entirely different.

“So uh, once upon a time, I stopped at a little dive that’s out of business now.” Diesel glanced at Kimberly. “Saw this lovely lady standing outside and I didn’t think much of it, figured she was having a smoke. I head inside to chat up the clerk, get all the gossip.” Diesel cleared his throat. “I’d taken another woman from this particular stop previously. But that had been a while back, folks change. I didn’t think I’d hear a sales pitch again.”

“Sales pitch?” Anne’s voice trembled a little.

“I broke his nose. Should have broke his whole face.” Diesel muttered, feeling Kimberly’s fingers lace through his own. “I saw her move like she was going to head to the trucks that had just come in, I didn’t want to make a scene. Wrapped my arm around her, probably scared the daylights out of her because I’m…well, I’m a big guy and I know it must have looked bad. I’d just broken a guy’s nose!”

“We’ve dealt with him in court. He deserved whatever you did to him and more.” Daniel grumbled, taking another sip of his egg nog.

“So what then?” Amy asked, her eyes huge. Diesel had to bite back a smile.

“Brought her to another stop to shower and eat, took a nap, drove to the last stop and got into a fistfight.” Diesel shrugged. “Guy was claiming ownership. Sometimes the uh, young guys get possessive. Kimberly is nobody’s property. So I straightened him out.” He licked the corner of his mouth absently, where his lip had been split during the fight. “We had a nutritious breakfast of…hell, I think it was Spam?”

“Spam, chips and Coke.” Kimberly supplied helpfully.

“Yeah. Not breakfast food. Took another sleep, drove through the night and arrived safe and sound on your doorstep.” Diesel knew he was paraphrasing a bit, but he wasn’t exactly about to tell her parents that he’d spent a good chunk of the ‘sleep’ time with his mouth buried between the legs of their eldest daughter. Hell, he and Kimberly hadn’t even been dating, he just knew that she needed it to be safe going forward. Oh, I was all noble intentions, he thought wryly.

“Why didn’t you come in?” Anne asked, “At least let us thank you!”

“You have to understand my side of this, ma’am.” He felt so dumb saying it now. “I…I didn’t want her feeling like she owed me. Didn’t want to be like the folks she’d interacted with before. I left before I could think better of leaving.” He straightened his shoulders. “And then I was a wreck for the better part of a year.”

He heard Amy sigh dreamily and he wanted to laugh because of course, lovesick brooding would be something to catch the teenager’s attention. It definitely sounded much more glamorous than, ‘I attempted to start my promising career as an alcoholic’.

“But you guys know how that story goes.” Diesel said quietly, his fingers twined with Kimberly’s under the table. “This one braved a cold winter’s night, gave me some grand speech about making her own choices.” He teased, boldly nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “I’ll be forever grateful.”

“It was worth it to find you again.” Kimberly murmured, smiling up at him and oh Jesus, her parents were right there, a minor was in the room--

Diesel had to tear his eyes away from her before he did something wildly inappropriate, clearing his throat again to buy himself some time. Because now came the part that he had been dreading all night. “Daniel, Anne…I understand if you two would rather that I just hop into my rig and never come back. A lot of terrible things happened that never needed to all because of guys like me, so I honestly underst-” Anne rose to her full height, which was…not very tall, but the look on her face gave Diesel pause.

“You’re part of this family. You would be whether you got together with Kimberly or not.” Anne’s voice was soft steel. Diesel could see where Kimberly got her resolve. “You brought our daughter back safely. The police had essentially given up. All they had to go on was some CCTV footage from the last gas station she had been in, and obviously that was many, many miles from that…terrible place.” Her lower lip quivered. “We didn’t want to lose hope, but when you have police officers telling you that your case is a lost cause, that ‘young women disappear all the time due to trafficking’, it…it can be hard to stay positive.”

Daniel’s hand rested on the small of his wife’s back. “Waking up on Christmas morning with Kimbles on the doorstep was…I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“Yeah, and she was wearing your jacket!” Amy recalled brightly. “A token, like old knights.”

Diesel blinked, a little overwhelmed. Regardless of what good he’d done, he had been bracing himself for when they would tell him to fuck right off. He was a trucker. He hated to think of it like that, with the unwarranted poison suburbanites tended towards, but he was of the same profession as most of her abusers.

Anne maneuvered around the table and pulled him into a hug that was the most maternal thing he’d ever experienced. “You’re not like them, Kevin. You listened to our baby, kept her safe and brought her home.” She patted his hair and yeah, yep, there was the lump in his throat. He was a grown man. “We’re so thankful you looked out for her.”

“She’s a human being.” Diesel said thickly. “I did what anyone else with a shred of decency would have done.”

“Mom, I think you’re smushing him.” Kimberly, obviously sensing his distress, swooped in to save the day. Anne immediately apologized, settling back down beside Daniel and dabbing at her eyes with a paper napkin.

Diesel huffed out a breath, giving Kimberly’s hand a grateful squeeze. “I’d like to formally ask permission to date your daughter.” He began cautiously. Across the table, Amy looked like she was about to dissolve into another sigh at the trepidation in his voice. “I would be gone for a week or so at a time. Maybe longer hauls if the pay is good. I-I have my own apartment, I promise I’m not trying to skim off of you for a place to crash between trips. I also know Kimberly still has college to get done and I’m not trying to get in the way of that.” Diesel felt out of breath, terrified. “I…care about Kimberly a hell of a lot and I-”

“Honey please, you’re going to pass out if you don’t take a second.” Anne looked far too amused. “How long have you been rehearsing this pitch?”

“Most of the ride here.” Diesel admitted, staring down at his forgotten glass of egg nog. “Over and over until it was right, ma’am.”

“Kimbles is a big girl, Kev. She can make her own choices.” Daniel said gently.

“I didn’t want either of you thinking that I was going behind your backs. Figured asking permission formally was the way to go.” Hope flared bright in Diesel’s chest. “I uh…Kimberly?” He floundered for a second, trying to wrap his head around the fact that this good thing wasn’t being ripped out from beneath him.

“Yes, Kevin?” Kimberly rested her head on his shoulder, giving him a smug look. And here he was, Big Daddy Cool, Diesel Power, Kevin Goddamn Nash reduced to opening and closing his mouth while all his carefully-planned words evacuated his brain.

“I…” Diesel swallowed hard. Got to his feet, pulled her up with him. Cupped her face so it was just them, no audience. “I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone in my life. I want to give this a serious try, Kimberly.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “You interested in giving me a go? It’s not going to be easy, we both know that. It’s going to take a lot. Communication and patience and…shit, say something, please interrupt me, I’m dying of nerves here.” He begged.

Kimberly raised an eyebrow, looking bemused. “I didn’t really think that you had to ask.” She laughed, rubbing her forehead against his own. “Anybody who tries to drag me away from you is going to have a rough time. Two or a hundred men, hell, more than a hundred, it doesn’t matter. Okay?”

“Okay.” Diesel knew he was smiling like an idiot, but he hardly cared at the moment.

“Kiss already!” Amy snapped, folding her arms across her chest and pouting when her mother scolded her. Diesel chuckled, his heart still hammering wildly against his ribs.

“I’d hate to disappoint.” Kimberly gave him a look of feigned shyness from beneath her lashes and oh, that was a good look if Diesel’s body had anything to say about it.

He exhaled hard, trying to ground himself. “’Course.” He gave her a quick peck on the mouth, losing his fight with laughter at her incredulous expression. “Only teasing, sweetheart, only teasing.” Diesel finally relented when she wouldn’t stop giving him that look. She caught the front of his sweatshirt and dragged him down for a real kiss, one that they probably shouldn’t be having in front of her parents and younger sister. Diesel’s common sense had taken a back seat to his relief however, and he kissed back just as fiercely.

“So rad.” Amy murmured enviously. “Just like the books.”

“What books?” Daniel sputtered and Kimberly started giggling into Diesel’s mouth, effectively ending their kiss. “If I find out you’ve been reading those trashy novels again-”

“They’re romantic!” Amy protested.

“Romantic trash.” Daniel huffed.

“Hey, it’s better that she knows what she wants, right?” Kimberly reasoned, unable to keep from laughing at the expression on her father’s face.

Anne nudged her husband pointedly, a little giggly herself. “Daniel, let the girl have fun. At least she’s reading, right?”

…

“May I walk you to your car?” Kimberly teased while Diesel stood awkwardly on the front steps.

“Didn’t want to ask.” He mumbled, jumping a little when she kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks for letting Jeff poke around in the cab. I know it meant a lot to him.” She said, looping her arm through the crook of his elbow and laying her head against his shoulder. She couldn’t understand why he had been so nervous inside, but whatever the reason it had been more than worth it to watch him light up after she kissed him.

“I kinda’…promised to take him for a spin tomorrow. As long as the weather holds.” Diesel winced when she looked up at him. “He’s a good kid.”

“One of the best I know.” Kimberly smiled. “How are you doing? I’m sure tonight was…well, a lot. Just making sure you’re okay.”

Diesel paused midway through opening the door of the cab. “It was a lot, but I’ve got a lot to get used to.” He offered her that lazy smile. “Your folks didn’t need to be that nice to me. I can handle some punishment, sweetheart.”

“Would you believe that’s what they’re like normally?” Kimberly asked dryly. “It’s pretty rad.”

“Damn.” Diesel seemed at a loss, so Kimberly slipped past him to climb up into the cab.

“C’mon, the sooner we go to sleep the sooner we can open presents!” She urged.

Diesel shuddered all over, his eyes narrowing. “I dunno’ about that. Pretty sure I’ve got something to unwrap before bedtime.” He replied playfully, following her up into the cab and pulling the curtains across the windshield after he shut the door behind him. “Shit, I should have started it before we came out. My bad, Kimberly.”

“Looks like we’ll have to cuddle for warmth.” Kimberly laughed when he groaned loudly. “Naked, skin to skin so that the heat can distribute properly. You know.”

“It sounds more like you’ve been reading your little sister’s trashy books.” Diesel pointed out.

“Who did you think got her into them?” Kimberly asked airily, unzipping her coat. Diesel shook his head, silently watching her every move with a heat that raced down Kimberly’s spine. Kimberly shed her jacket and immediately regretted it, the truck was not warm in the slightest. She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering a little.

Diesel surged against her, pinning her to the passenger seat with his hands on her shoulders and his mouth on her own. “I’ll warm you up. This…oh my God, Kimberly, fuck.” He growled out the swear, shaking fingers groping her through her turtleneck.

Kimberly couldn’t help her needy whimper, draping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. “Missed you, missed you so much.”

“You just saw me the other-“ He paused at her look. “Okay yeah, who am I fooling here? I didn’t see you for almost a year and it was awful. I’m not letting you go again.” Diesel promised, yanking off his hat and tossing it over his shoulder somewhere. “Pants off, I need…c’mon, lift your hips.”

Kimberly eagerly obliged, laughing when he fumbled with the button on her jeans. “Through the loop, you know how to do this.”

“Don’t you sass me, sweetheart.” Diesel grunted, “Nothing funny about these nerves. Holy shit. We’re dating.” He shook his head, sliding her pants down her legs and jumping a little when she yelped. “What, too much?”

“Seat is…very cold.” Kimberly squeaked.

“I know.” Diesel teased his thumb over one of her nipples through her turtleneck and she arched up into his touch helplessly. He knelt between her legs and the cold faded to a back corner of Kimberly’s mind, her attention absorbed by this huge man who should have been terrifying. “Still alright?” Diesel asked, resting his temple on her thigh while he looked up at her. She nodded and his eyes softened. “Good.”

“Good.” Kimberly echoed, feeling ludicrous for being nervous. She cupped his jaw and Diesel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Be gentle.”

“Absolutely.” Diesel slipped her panties off and nudged her thighs apart again, then moved her hand to the back of his head. “You know what to do, sweetheart.” He murmured, mouthing the words on her thigh. “You’re in charge here.”

He pressed a kiss to her stomach and Kimberly ran her fingers through his hair, forgetting about her nerves as Diesel watched her slick collect for a second or two.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He muttered finally, sounding dazed. He spread her open with his fingers, the look of greed on his face making Kimberly’s hips twitch up. “Shouldn’t make you wait. Shouldn’t do it.” Diesel continued, walking his fingers up her torso to tweak her nipple through her shirt again.

“Oh! Please, Kevin!” Kimberly begged, making him rumble in his chest. “Please, please please I was so good, please-”

“That kiss in front of your parents is what you define as good?” Diesel asked incredulously. “I could have ripped my Levis with my cock, you tease.”

“P-Please, please I’ve been wet all night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, need you so much--” Kimberly kept begging, desperate at this point. And he could tell, of course he could tell, her panties had been soaked through!

She felt his jaw tense when she tugged on his hair, and he rewarded her finally with a stroke of his tongue on her clit. “You are so fucking wet, oh my God.” Diesel moaned out, the noise low and ragged. “Sweetheart, Kimberly, oh my God, you’re so beautiful.” His facial hair tickled her thigh, rubbing a little harder when he resumed his previous activity. “I’m gonna’ take good care of you.”

Kimberly sighed, rolling her hips against his mouth. “Yes.” Their time together the other night hadn’t been nearly enough to make up for their long period of separation. She reached out to him and he responded with gentle noises of reassurance kissed into the skin of her thighs, yes I’m here, yes I’m real.

The Kevin who haunted her dreams, slipped into her bedroom and brought her to the brink of completion didn’t hold a candle to the Diesel of reality. His teeth, his tongue, his fingers, all working in unison to coax an orgasm from her quivering form. She was hot all over her body, aching sweetly with the work of wanting him.

“Give it to me, sweetheart.” Diesel growled. “I want it and you will give it to me, come on my face, come on my fucking face-”

Kimberly cried out, her fingers digging into his scalp as the tension in her stomach broke. Diesel hungrily lapped up her slick, his eyes locked with hers while she came. “Kevin--” She panted when she could speak again. “Bunk?”

“Yeah?” Diesel asked, sliding his index finger across his chin and making a lazy show out of licking it clean. Oh, that was nice. Kimberly felt her face flush. “I was having a pretty good time here, but I suppose…” He got to his feet, and then pulled her upright. “How’s your legs?”

“How do you think?!” Kimberly sputtered, clinging tightly to his shirt so she didn’t collapse. Stupid, stupid legs!

Diesel grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “So once we move to the bunk…” He drawled, tugging the partition aside. “How do you want round two to go?”

“I’m riding you.” Kimberly said quickly, before she could lose her nerve.

Diesel made a sound like he’d been punched in the stomach, kissing her hard. “Shit Kimberly, I could get used to this.” He groaned when he pulled back, running a hand through his hair.

Kimberly sat down on the bunk and crossed her legs, giggling at his expression when she made a ‘come-hither’ gesture with her finger. “Too much?”

“Never.” He stripped his shirt off and climbed over her until she laid down, massive body on full and obvious display. “Undo my jeans? Please.” He asked, shivering like he couldn't help it when she dragged her fingers over the dark trail of hair on his stomach. “God, God, Kimberly.”

Kimberly boldly slid her fingers down into his boxers, loving the heft of his cock in her hand. Diesel's head lolled forward when she stroked him, his hips rocking down into her hand. She rubbed her thumb over the head of his cock and Diesel swore, his hands clenching restlessly into the blankets.

“God don’t tease, with your tits all snug in that shirt, fuck don’t tease me.” He snarled. Kimberly undid his jeans and pushed them down his hips, making him grit out another swear.

“You like my breasts in this shirt?” Kimberly asked, loving the sensation of having him at her mercy. “Nice tight little turtleneck. Bra is uncomfortable though.”

“Get rid of it.” Diesel said curtly. “Hop up onto me and I’ll unhook it for you.” He patted his hip in the least subtle manner possible, offering her that lazy grin. “I live to serve.”

“You're impossible.” Kimberly stuck her tongue out and Diesel rolled onto his back, shifting his weight until she could straddle him properly. He was still snickering to himself and so Kimberly sank down onto his cock without any warning. That got his attention and shut him up all in one fell swoop. “Well?” She sighed after a minute of just enjoying the feeling of his cock in her. “My bra?”

Diesel's fingers raked firmly over the skin of her back, making her arch against him. “Fuck, yes.” Diesel grunted, fumbling to undo the hooks on her bra. “That's right, fuck down onto me, ride me into a fucking lather sweetheart.”

Kimberly caught a handful of his hair and tugged his head up a little so he could watch the way his cock stretched her deliciously. “See what you do to me, Diesel?” She crooned, not really sure where this behavior was coming from but more than satisfied with the results.

Diesel's eyes widened and the large man's jaw tensed yet again. “God, Kimberly...do you have any fucking idea-” He shook his head and grasped her hips. “All those nights I spent alone, drinking or fucking my fist while thinking about having my mouth and hands all over you, thinking about burying myself in this sweet little pussy--fuck, having you here, and you're real and we're...I mean, you're the best gift I've ever been given.” He admitted fiercely, getting her to squirm as he pinned her to his hips and bucked up.

“You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” Kimberly shifted her pelvis in his grip, arching just so against the deep thrusts of his hips. “You saved me, Kevin.” She slid her hands up to her breasts, teasing herself through her shirt.

Diesel rumbled in his chest, cupping the back of her neck and tugging her down to touch their foreheads together. The intense look in his eyes took her breath away. “You saved me, don't get it twisted sweetheart.” He gritted out, carding his other hand through her hair. “Beautiful, precious fucking...beautiful woman. Best thing in my life. Don't know what I did, but I'll be damned if I ever let you go again.”

“Kevin I'm so close-” Kimberly begged. “Come with me, please please-” Her eyes kept rolling back but Diesel urged her to maintain eye contact, keeping their foreheads together. Her blonde hair curled around his face, muting the outside world to nothing but his eyes, his mouth, that lazy smile firmly in place as she rode him hard.

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He murmured tenderly, cupping her jaw and kissing her. “You come first, Kimberly, come for Diesel like a good girl.”

Something about that phrase struck a chord in the young woman and she tensed down on his cock. Her hands clutched vaguely at his shoulders as everything faded out and she broke apart with a hungry cry muffled by his mouth. Diesel moaned along with her as he pumped his cock in and out one last time before he came as well, and he wound his arms around her tightly.

“Stay with me.” He breathed in her ear.

“L-Like I can even move--” Kimberly gasped.

“Not just now.” Diesel's voice was so quiet. “Once you're done with...y'know, the important stuff, college. Stuff. If you're still interested in me. Please...stay with me.”

“Kevin...” Kimberly barely managed to sit up, her stomach still quivering. “Nothing could separate us after all of this, as far as I'm concerned.” She panted, trying to get her hair back under control.

“You really mean that?” Diesel asked tentatively, his fingers stroking through her hair and soothing her back down against his chest.

“Absolutely.” Kimberly answered firmly, pressing a trail of exhausted kisses over his pectoral. Diesel fell silent, reaching a hand out to hit play on his boombox and then pulling the blanket up over the both of them. Kimberly nuzzled into his chest, thoroughly warm and more than a little tired out.

“If I had another chance tonight...” The tape carried on softly, and Kimberly snickered into Diesel's chest.

“What?” Diesel mumbled.

“This song, you lovesick nerd.” She yawned widely. “Figured you would have gone with the other tape, the Just Tell Me You Love Me tape.”

“Wasn't feeling the England Dan last night.” Diesel held her a little tighter. “Thank you.”

“I'm pretty sure that's still supposed to be my line. Until I throw down with some big scary guy in a Mack truck on your behalf, of course.”

“Seriously, Kimberly.” Diesel cupped her chin again so he could see her eyes. “Thank you. You're the best present a guy could ask for.” Kimberly flushed at the praise and he smiled slowly, nudging her nose with his own. “C'mon, the sooner you go to sleep, sooner you get to open your presents.”

“Mm, pretty sure Christmas came early-”

“I held off as long as I could!”

“That's not actually what...oh my God, Kevin, you're ridiculous.”

[humansunshineao3]

Fighting the Good Fight [Ch.4]

Alec Lightwood just wants to run his Institute in peace.

This is the story that could’ve unfolded if Jace didn’t exist.

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, Clary/Izzy

Tags: Jace doesn’t exist, transgender alec lightwood, retelling of the TV show, Internalized Transphobia, Panic Attacks, Emotional/Psychological Abuse.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: TRIGGER WARNINGS

Content warning for internalised transphobia: Alec calls his transness a 'deformity' in his inner monologue

Content warning for panic attacks: Basically a slightly more panicky version of the scene where Magnus summons Valak.

Content warning for suicidal ideation: VERY SLIGHT. Izzy mentions in the beginning of the chapter that sometimes Alec thinks about dying. We don't see Alec actually think that.

Previous Chapter

Episode 4: Raising Hell

Izzy couldn’t sleep that night. She felt like she’d forgotten something. Her report for the Clave with the (edited) account of their mission to the City of Bones was done, everyone was safe, but yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of place. Eventually she realised that she hadn’t had her customary hot chocolate before turning in for the night, and sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

As she walked down the hallway in her dressing gown, she listened out for Alec. He’d been known to stay up late and work out or stare at the window wishing for death. She smiled when she passed his door, hearing the awful, rattling sound of his snores. The next door down was Clary’s, and Izzy frowned as Alec’s snores faded away, replaced by soft little whimpers. The first thing that Izzy assumed, shamefully, was that Clary was having a little ‘me time’, but when she heard the redhead gasp out ‘no’, Izzy pressed close to the door, knocking on it a little too loudly.

The room went silent, aside from the sharp breaths of Clary, who’d sat up in bed, wide-eyed. Izzy paused, sucking on her lower lip, and peeked around the door. Clary looked pale, traumatised, exhausted. Izzy’s heart ached for her, and she hurried over to the bed.

“Bad dream?” She whispered, pushing wisps of red hair back from the other woman’s slightly clammy face.

Clary sighed, picking at the edge of the blanket. “I keep dreaming about this… Man. I’m tied down to a chair and my Mom is there, but this man reaches into my mind and… I don’t know. It feels… Violating.”

“That sounds horrible,” Izzy breathed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to go and get Simon? It sounds like you need a cuddle.”

“What’s stopping you from giving me a cuddle?” Clary asked, more curious than seductive, and Izzy shrugged a little, leaning on her hands behind her.

“Didn’t want you to feel like I was taking advantage. And I figured that Simon would be more comforting than some girl you barely know.”

Clary sat up a little straighter, grabbing a pillow and putting it in her lap. “I already feel like I’ve known you forever. All of this… It just makes sense to me. You make sense to me.”

“Is that your way of telling me you like me, Clary Fray?” Izzy asked, her eyes brighter than usual, laid bare instead of hidden behind lashings of mascara. Clary shrugged a little.

“ Something like that. Is that okay? I know you’re with Meliorn…”

Izzy snorted. “I’m only with Meliorn when it suits the two of us. Mostly, we’re close friends.”

“Oh.”

The two women gazed at each other for a moment, Clary’s hand finding Izzy’s on top of the covers to lace their hands together.

“So… I was promised cuddles?” She mumbled, shifting to lie back, and Izzy bit her lip to hide how wide she wanted to smile, clambering under the covers with none of her usual grace.

“Goodnight, Clary,” Izzy whispered, enamoured at the way the redhead curled into a tight ball next to her, her forehead pressed underneath Izzy’s jaw.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Morning,” Alec greeted his sister over coffee, looked better rested than he had since Clary had shown up. Izzy gave him a tight hug on her way to the pot, and Alec quirked an eyebrow at her. “What’s that for?”

“For being the greatest big brother in the world,” Izzy grinned, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

Alec narrowed his eyes as they zeroed in on the extra mug. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”

“You know, just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean I fuck everything with a pulse,” Izzy huffed, her good mood a little soured.

“I don’t assume these things because you’re bisexual, I assume these things because you’re beautiful, and confident, and smooth as fuck. You get what you want. I love that about you.” Alec shrugged, ruffling her hair. “Don’t ever mistake my awe in your ability to land anyone you want as judgement, Iz.”

Izzy hummed, placated at Alec’s affectionate response, and leaned against the counter as he bent to get her the milk. “Thank you, big brother. But no, for the record, I did not fuck her. She had a nightmare and we cuddled.”

“A nightmare? What about?”

“This guy reaching into her brain and like, fucking her up. She seemed really freaked out.” Izzy answered, picking up the two mugs. “She’s still in bed, I’ll take this to her.”

Alec grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “A guy reaching into her brain? That must be a warlock doing the memory bullshit on her.”

Realisation dawned on Izzy’s face. “It’s a repressed memory breaking through consciousness. I gotta go ask her more about it!”

“I’ll come with you. If we find the warlock who took her memories, we might be able to find the Mortal Cup.” Alec insisted, following hot on her heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He was… Tall. She called him Magnus. I think he was Asian?” Clary squinted a little, eyes focussed on the wall as she tried to remember the dream. “He was dressed in silk. He had dark make-up on.”

“Fuck,” Alec hissed, putting his hands on his hips. “Of course it would be him.”

“Oh shit,” Izzy giggled, putting her hands to her mouth. “Is it fancy pants?”

Alec glared at her. “I told you not to call him that.”

“Fancy Pants?” Clary asked, looking at Alec like he’d grown a second head.

“There’s this really hot warlock that does the wards on the institute, and Alec’s had a crush on him forever. Like, forever, forever. We didn’t know his name, so…”

“You didn’t know his name. I knew his name. It’s my job to know his name.” Alec scrubbed his hand down his face. “It’s Magnus Bane. He’s the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

“We call him Fancy Pants.” Izzy shrugged.

“YOU call him Fancy Pants.” Alec grumbled. Secretly, he referred to Magnus Bane as Sparkles in his head, but he would rather die than admit that out loud.

Clary snorted, shaking her head. “Alright, so how do we find… Fancy Pants?”

“Do not call the most powerful warlock in North America Fancy Pants!” Alec’s voice came out whinier than he’d have liked, his cheeks blazing red. Clary and Izzy giggled. “And we can’t; he’s taken the warlocks into hiding. His magic is so powerful that he can evade the Silent Brothers. We haven’t got a hope in Hell of finding him, unless he wants to be found.”

Izzy hummed, sipping her coffee thoughtfully. Both Clary and Alec mirrored her. “Wait,” she stood up a little straighter, and darted towards the door. “Wasn’t that Simon?”

“Huh?” Alec turned around as Clary and Izzy hurried after the mundane, sighing loudly. One of these days he was going to enjoy his morning without drama.

When he caught up to the three of them, Simon looked like a mouse that had just been thrown into a tank with a cobra. Alec wandered over, still cradling his coffee, as Clary begged him to stay.

“The Circle could still come after you,” Alec offered. “We can’t spare the manpower to tail you around the city and keep you safe.”

“You can’t keep me here like a prisoner! I want to go home!” Simon snapped at him, and Alec backed off a little, flexing his neck. He knew that angry defense mechanism better than most; Simon had something he needed to think about. Alec respected that.

Clary, apparently, did not.

“What is wrong with you?! We literally just saved your ass from a bunch of vampires!” She scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Simon, this isn’t like you.”

“Just relax, Simon, you’re safe here.” Izzy soothed, putting a hand on his shoulder. Simon glared poisonously at her, and shrugged it off. “Hey!”

“Don’t touch me! Back off!”

“Hey,” Alec grunted, “if you need some space, then get some. But don’t get mad at us for literally nothing.”

“You’re going to get Clary killed in a war that has nothing to do with her,” Simon hissed.

Izzy narrowed her eyes at him, speculative.

“It has everything to do with me, Simon.” Clary insisted, and the mundane scoffed, storming past her and towards the door. Izzy went to follow, but Alec stopped her, shaking his head.

“Let them figure this one out by themselves, yeah? Something’s going on with that guy.”

“You feel it too?” She asked, watching as Simon and Clary spoke to each other in whisper-yells, gesticulating wildly.

Alec nodded. “Let’s keep an eye on him, alright? In the meantime… Let’s pull up Magnus Bane’s file.”

Clary soon joined them at the conference table, eyes a little teary, but as she slid into the seat next to Izzy she seemed to harden herself, fixing her green eyes on the screen with determination as Hodge gave the three of them a basic overview of Magnus’ life.

“Magnus has a deep mistrust of shadowhunters,” Hodge warned them. “He doesn’t help shadowhunters unless they pay handsomely in return. His services have cost the institute an obscene amount of money, but his wards are the reason we can sleep easy at night, so…”

Clary sighed. “What matters most to him? What would make him want to come out?”

“He’s been out for centuries,” Hodge snorted, shooting Izzy a wink. Alec glared at the both of them. Hodge cleared his throat and continued, “Magnus is known for his hedonism. Promise him a good time and he could surface.”

“Meliorn invited me to this downworlder rave this weekend,” Izzy shrugged, “I was going to skip it, but he did describe it as the party of the year. Odds are that Magnus will show up; he came last year.”

Alec quirked an eyebrow at her. “You weren’t legal to drink last year.”

“That’s the most tragic thing you’ve ever said, Alec.”

“Guys, focus!” Clary sighed. “Alright, we see Magnus at the party. How do we get him to help us? Does anyone have like a million dollars lying around because I know I don’t!”

Alec thought of the hideous mountain of paperwork he’d been forced to fill out the previous April, detailing the Institute’s budget, and quickly shook his head. “The Institute won’t be able to pay.”

Izzy gasped suddenly, eyes going wide. “The amulet. Isn’t that necklace…? Didn’t Mom say it belonged to Magnus Bane?”

“What necklace?” Alec asked blankly, watching as Izzy leapt out of her seat and across to the storage cabinets in the floor.

“Give me your stele!”

Alec fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her, he and Clary watching as she bent to unlock one of the cabinets. As it rose out of the ground, Alec vaguely remembered his Mom trying to talk him into wearing a pretty ruby amulet to a Clave function, before she came to terms with the fact that he was a boy. His nose wrinkled as it came into sight and he realised that the amulet he’d remembered was the one that apparently belonged to Magnus Bane. It sort of rung a bell, now he thought about it.

“Ahhh, yes. I remember Maryse talking about this necklace when she got it. Magnus bought it for his then-lover, Camille Belcourt, in…”

“Magnus dated Camille?!” Clary’s eyebrows rose up her forehead. “Damn, the downworld is small.”

“This necklace means a lot to Magnus,” Hodge nodded, “he’ll help you if you promise to give it back. Your Mom won’t be happy, though, it was meant to be Alec’s inheritance.”

“I’m really not too mad about that,” Alec shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, let’s do it.”

“Sweet, I’m dressing the both of you.” Izzy slipped the necklace on, holding her hair out of the way for Clary to fasten the clasp. Alec and Clary made eye contact, both faces a little alarmed. “No arguments, you have to blend in, and neither of you are exactly… Downworlder-friendly.”

“I’m not wearing a muscle shirt again.” Alec growled, but he let her drag him towards their rooms nevertheless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You have to look sexy, Alec, you might talk to Fancy Pants.”

“His name is Magnus!” Alec hissed, a little panicked as he looked over the clothes that Izzy had picked out for him. He couldn’t wear his packer with the skinny jeans, it was too big. And the shirt she’d chosen was so tight that everyone would be able to see the seams of his binder, something that he’d been triple-thinking ever since Simon and Clary had noticed it. “Please, can I wear something looser?”

Izzy softened a little, patting him on the shoulder. “You wanna wear your binder?”

Alec felt a little ridiculous doing this in front of Clary, but he nodded.

“You should wear something that shows off your arms,” the redhead offered, “they’re really hot. You have great muscles.”

Alec’s shoulders rose a little, but he smiled a bashful thanks at her. “How about the denim shirt?”

Izzy breathed out through her nose. “Fine,” she relented, “but only because you’re the sniper tonight. We don’t want anyone distracting you.”

“What are you gonna wear, Iz?” Clary asked, and Alec honestly would have fallen in love with her if he wasn’t a flaming homosexual. She really had a knack for keeping Izzy off his back. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she was here to stay.

“Ooh, I’ll show you!” Izzy enthused, pushing the denim shirt into Alec’s hands and breezing out the door with Clary in tow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s… Sparkly.” Clary grinned. “Now I definitely feel underdressed.”

Izzy was wearing a flapper-style dress made entirely of silver sequins and topped off with a matching headpiece. She hadn’t done her make-up yet, but she was already utterly captivating. Clary forced herself to look down at the options that Izzy had laid out for her on the bed.

“I think you should go with the black. It’ll look sexy with your hair.”

Clary hummed, picking up the dress. “It’s… Tight.”

“It stretches,” Izzy shrugged. “Put it on. I’ll be in the bathroom doing my make-up.”

Clary let out a long breath as the bathroom door clicked shut, touching her cheeks to make sure that she wasn’t blushing. She wasn’t. Good. The attention she was getting from Izzy was utterly foreign to her; she’s always preferred girls to boys, always wanted to kiss Cinderella more than she wanted to kiss Prince Charming. No-one seemed to notice, though; all the lesbians Clary had known in high school had assumed that she was arrow-straight just from the fact that she never wore plaid. So she’d never experienced liking a girl and having the girl express interest back.

She’d never known a girl to be so brave about it, either. Izzy made her nervous and bold all at once.

Her eyes had wandered to the bathroom door, and she shook herself out of the curiosity plaguing her mind to get dressed, quickly squeezing herself into the dress to make up for lost time. As she raised her eyes to the mirror in front of her, she heard her Mom’s voice tutting in her mind, but pushed it aside as she deftly unhooked her bra and yanked it out from under the dress. It looked odd under the thin black fabric of the dress.

“You done?” Izzy called right as Clary got her boobs situated, and she hummed in response. “Wow, you look great.” She met Izzy’s eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

“So do you.”

Izzy pursed her lips. “You’re so lucky to have such small tits, I could never go without a bra.”

“Hey!” Clary huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

“There’s no shame in having small titties. All titties are good titties.” Izzy insisted, gently taking the redhead’s wrists and putting her hands back down to her sides. “You’re beautiful.”

Clary turned her hand to wind their fingers together.

“Do you… Do you think red’s my colour?” Izzy asked, tilting her head to the side to show off Magnus’ amulet around her neck.

Clary smirked wickedly. “Iz, with a body like yours, everything is your colour.”

“True.”

They grinned at each other like idiots for a few moments, before Alec appeared at the door, looking anxious and embarrassed. The two women looked up at him, and he rolled his eyes a little.

“If you two are done being gay, we have a party to go to.” He muttered, hitching his quiver higher on his shoulder.

Izzy looked at Clary as she looked at Alec, and impulsively leaned in to kiss her cheek. Clary’s eyes went wide, but she smiled as Izzy pulled back. Alec fought the urge to roll his eyes again, and headed towards the exit.

“Stay close, Fray. Warlocks can be tricky,” Izzy said softly, the two of them not letting go of each others’ hands. If anyone gave them any strange looks on their way out of the institute, they didn’t notice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alec thought he might vomit as he approached the queue to get into the club, Izzy and Clary a few steps ahead of him. There was so much riding on this mission, and he wasn’t feeling good in his skin, and to top it all off, Sparkles was gonna be involved. He’d spent his teenage years at the institute steadfastly avoiding the warlock, dreading the swell of attraction he felt every time he laid eyes on the older man. It was bad enough that he was trans. It was hardly fair that he was also gay.

His parents accepted his transness; it worked for them. They’d always wanted a son anyway, someone to carry on the family name. It was understood that Alec would work hard to overcome the prejudice in the Clave, have all the surgery necessary to be perceived as cisgender, marry a good woman who already had a child, give them the Lightwood name, and die heroically in battle before the age of 50. That was the plan.

He’d really tried being attracted to women. He was overzealous in his late teens, fumbling through flirtation with every girl his age who visited the institute, but the second it came to kissing them he clammed up, making some dumb excuse before running in the opposite direction. Sparkles had been regular reminder, every six weeks on the dot to check the wards, that no matter how much surgery he had, he would never be normal. He would never truly win the affection of his parents.

Or anyone.

Alec huffed through his nose. That wasn’t true, he told himself. Izzy would always love him for who he was. He watched her now, laughing good-naturedly at something Clary said, stars in her eyes. He felt a swell of affection for his sister that was so strong it brought tears to his eyes.

“I’m gonna go check the perimeter,” he grumbled, “try not to drool on the ruby.” He didn’t want to hear Izzy’s answer, leaping up onto the fire escape above them. Alec stubbornly refused to think the moment his feet hit the metal grate, scanning the street below for Circle members. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he ducked through a window and made his way through the stockroom, squeezing past shelves of glass bottles, clutching his bow close.

It wasn’t difficult to find a vantage point; the lights were mounted on a huge rigging that extended across the room, and Alec crouched on the edge of it easily, right next to a flight of stairs that he could use to get down if anything happened. Spark- Magnus, Alec told himself, Magnus Bane, was easy to spot. He was sat alone, more or less in the middle of the room, checking his make-up. Alec forced himself to look away from the warlock and down into the crowd, using a night vision rune to see through the darkness and smoke machines. Then he waited.

Clary and Izzy made a beeline for Magnus the moment they got into the club, and Alec watched as he stood up to talk to the shadowhunters. Izzy handed over the necklace too quickly, and Alec pursed his lips. She trusted downworlders too easily. Whatever Magnus said next, Clary and Izzy didn’t look happy about it. Clary started yelling at him, and Alec sighed out loud. She was so fiery, and part of him admired it, but… Damn, she didn’t know the meaning of diplomacy.

Alec’s eyes widened as Magnus opened a portal, and in the amber light of the warlock’s magic, he spotted the flash of someone’s eyes, standing a few feet behind Magnus. A blade shone blue right behind Magnus’ shoulder. Before he could think, Alec fired off an arrow, hitting the Circle member square in the heart. He ran down past Clary, Izzy and Magnus to retrieve the arrow, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on the corpse of the assassin, snatching his angel blade from his hand. Pleased with himself, Alec tossed the blade into his other hand, glancing up to see Magnus disappearing through a portal. Clary grabbed onto his sleeve, but it was too late.

The portal closed behind him.

“He’s got a Circle rune on the base of his neck,” Alec pointed out, and Izzy ran off to check the perimeter. “Are you alright?” He asked Clary, taking note of her dazed expression.

“He’s gone,” Clary said quietly, so quietly that Alec had to read her lips to understand her.

Alec sighed. “We’ll find him.”

They wouldn’t find him.

“His stupid button came off in my hand,” Clary scoffed, “serves him right for running away like a coward.”

Oh.

“Give me that,” Alec ordered, holding out his hand. The silver button dropped into it, and Alec raised his eyes to look for Izzy. She stomped back over to them, looking a little harassed.

“Just some fuckboys,” she said at the questioning looks from Alec and Clary, “looks like he was the only assassin. Let’s get out of here.”

Clary slumped against the wall once they exited the club, staring into nothingness. Izzy frowned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “This is just great,” Clary hissed, “we didn’t get my memories back and he took the necklace. There’s no way we’re going to find him now!”

“Actually,” Alec sighed, looking at the button between his fingers, “that’s not true. Iz, look.”

“Is that Magnus’?” She asked, tugging Clary over by her elbow. Alec nodded.

“Who cares?” Clary sighed, resting her forehead on Izzy’s shoulder. “We’re never going to find the cup or my Mom.”

“We can track him with this, me and Izzy.” Alec explained, “we’re parabatai, we can track people using their possessions.”

Izzy smiled widely, and took Alec’s hands in hers, two sets of fingers curled protectively round the button. They looked into each other’s faces, mirroring intense, dark-eyed concentration and pursed lips as the angelic power of the parabatai bond searched for Magnus Bane. It only took a few minutes, and then both of them were smiling and pulling back. Clary sighed in relief.

“So is this like a family thing?” She asked, letting Izzy take her hand as they headed off in the direction of Magnus’ lair.

Alec snorted. “No, it’s a way for the two of us to become stronger warriors. We fight together. Our hearts beat as one in battle, we sense each others’ moves, our stronger emotions. Our instincts.”

“Sometimes parabatai are siblings, but not always. You just need a deep respect for each other’s abilities and intuition into each others’ weaknesses.” Izzy explained. “The parabatai bond is cool, but first and foremost we’re brother and sister.”

Clary hummed. “If I were a shadowhunter, I know who my parabatai would be.”

“Simon?” Izzy guessed, and Clary smiled.

“Of course.”

“You can’t be parabatai with a mundane,” Alec grumbled, wrenching open the door to the warehouse where the warlocks’ hideout was concealed. He let Clary and Izzy lead the way, notching an arrow as they entered the abandoned building.

Izzy pulled out a seraph blade as they crept through the warehouse, the three of them back to back, eyes scanning the edges of the dark room. Alec spun around as he heard a yell from the balcony, breath catching in his throat as a warlock fell over the edge, throat slit. He fired off an arrow at the circle member who’d killed him, hitting them right in the shoulder.

“The circle’s here, we need to get to the warlocks,” Alec told the two women, making eye contact with Clary for a moment. “make sure you stay close. Iz, keep her safe, we can’t let Valentine get his hands on her as well as Jocelyn.”

“I’ve got this,” Izzy promised, “go secure the warlocks.”

Alec ran up to the second floor, efficiently picking off circle members as he went, pushing through a black wooden door and suddenly finding himself in an opulent but wrecked apartment. As he skidded around the corner, he caught sight of dead warlocks dotted around everywhere, and Magnus standing in the middle of them, fighting a circle member with blasts of magic.

An arrow sank into the circle member’s thigh before Alec even thought about it, and Magnus finished him off easily, one last handful of power knocking Valentine’s minion back, unconscious or possibly dead. Alec didn’t particularly care about that part, because he’d opened his mouth to compliment the warlock.

“Well done,” he murmured, lowering his bow.

Magnus hummed, and shrugged one shoulder, his back still to Alec. “More like medium rare.”

Alec huffed out a laugh, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as Magnus turned to look at him. He willed himself not to blush.

“I’m Magnus.” Alec bit back the urge to say ‘I know’, heart thumping out of control in his chest at the way Magnus’ eyes bore into his, not wandering for a second. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”

“Alec.” He was grinning, he realised, but he couldn’t stop himself. He probably looked demented, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because Magnus was looking right at him, not at his chest, trying to figure out what was going on, or down his body with hunger, but… At his eyes. “We should, uh… Should probably… You know, get…”

Christ.

“Right,” Magnus smiled, “we should join the party.”

“Right.”

Magnus’ eyes were so shiny.

Oh God, did he say that out loud?

Alec hastily turned and ran back out to where Izzy and Clary were fighting the assassins, pushing down the butterflies in his stomach. Mission first, gay crisis later, he told himself.

Later, once Alec and Izzy had double and triple-checked the lair, making sure that all the circle members were either dead or gone, they climbed back up the stairs to Magnus’ apartment, where Clary and Magnus were trying to treat the warlocks who’d survived the attack. Magnus was hugging a young warlock girl as they rounded the corner, and Alec hung back as Magnus spoke to Clary, pretending to count his arrows. He almost, almost wanted to ask Izzy how to talk to men, but realised that a lifetime of teasing was probably not worth it.

He was staring into space trying to figure out what exactly he was going to say to Magnus when the warlock turned to address the room, jumping out of his skin.

“Hold tight, everyone. We’re about to move.”

Clary walked back over to Izzy and Alec, looking proud of herself. “Magnus is going to summon the demon who’s keeping my memories. He said that it won’t be easy, but…”

“That’s great, Clary. Well done.” Izzy smiled, squeezing her hand.

Magnus threw his hands up in the air, his magic vibrating between his hands and then through the entire room, a bright flash of white light encompassing the entire thing before it faded, and Alec glanced around. Nothing seemed to have changed, but apparently, they’d moved. “Much better,” Magnus sighed, looking out of the window for a moment before turning to the room. “Ugh, it’s inevitable. After each move, I get the urge to redecorate.” He met Alec’s eyes. “Normally I love a dirty lair, but this one’s just sloppy.”

Izzy snorted, and Alec tore his eyes away from Magnus to glare at her. He fiddled with his bow, watching Magnus out of the corner of his eye. He still hadn’t figured out what, exactly, he wanted to say. His shoulders drew up to his ears, and he scurried around the edge of the room to stand next to Izzy.

Magnus looked Izzy up and down, a small smile on his face. “I believe in payment for services rendered.” He held up the necklace from before, the ruby glinting in the light. Izzy’s eyes lit up. “Thank you for defending the warlocks.”

“I couldn’t,” Izzy insisted, tangling her fingers together behind her back.

“Oh, but you could.” Magnus pressed, walking behind her, fiddling with the clasp. “And you should. The Lightwoods have been wearing this for years. Besides,” he leaned in close, “it would look silly on your brother.” The two of them giggled together, and Alec passed his weight from foot to foot. He didn’t hear what Magnus said next, but judging by the triumphant look on Izzy’s face, he could only imagine it was something that would embarrass him.

Clary, seeing the way Izzy grinned at Magnus and utterly misreading the room, stood up. “Okay, so how do we summon the memory demon?”

Alec breathed out a silent sigh of relief, grateful that the focus was away from him for a moment. He inched over towards Izzy, and she squeezed his hand a little, sensing his anxiety through the bond. A quiet sigh escaped his lips as Clary insisted that she was sure about summoning the demon, and she and Magnus went into the spare bedroom to start preparation for the spell.

“You doing okay?” Izzy asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Izzy gave him a pointed look, and then directed her eyes to Magnus, who was standing in the other room with his back turned. “He’s even hotter up close. And he’s clearly into you.”

“You don’t know that,” Alec gulped, scratching the back of his head.

“Oh, I think I do.” Izzy elbowed him in the ribs. “Look at that ass.”

“Izzy!” Alec hissed, face blazing.

She just giggled at him, shaking her head a little.

Magnus turned around, waving his hand though his eyes were still on Clary. “Pretty one, get your team together,” he ordered casually, and Izzy stepped forwards. At the sound of her high heels on the vinyl floor, Magnus actually looked at the Lightwood siblings. “Oh, sweetheart. As beautiful as you are… I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to…” he pointed right at Alec’s chest, and the shadowhunter’s throat closed up with pure elation. “You.”

Alec grinned, eyes lighting up, and proudly pushed past his sister to go to Magnus’ side. Izzy watched as he followed at Magnus’ heels like a puppy, and made a pact with herself to make sure that Alec actually gave Magnus, and himself, a chance.

“You know, you’re not what I expected from the eldest Lightwood sibling,” Magnus leaned against the wall as Clary drew the summoning circle and pentagram on the floor next to them.

“Uhh…” Alec swallowed hard, dread making his lungs seize. “What… What do you mean?”

Magnus tilted his head to the side a little. “You actually seem to care about something other than the Clave’s rigid laws.”

“Oh,” Alec sighed, hitching his bow higher up his shoulder. “I-I guess… I mean, it’s my job to protect downworlders. It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal,” the warlock echoed thoughtfully, still looking directly into Alec’s eyes like he was trying to decipher his deepest secrets, “it’s a big deal to me.”

“I know! I’m not being fake humble, I-”

“I know,” Magnus smiled, lifting his hand like he was going to touch but then seeming to think better of it. “It’s nice to meet you, Alec Lightwood. Officially. I’ve heard a lot about your sister from downworlder gossip, but almost nothing about you. I wonder how you managed to slip under the radar.”

Alec shrugged. “I just tend to keep to myself. Izzy’s the outgoing one.”

“Well, I look forward to getting to know you better.” Part of Magnus’ attention was on Clary, and he noticed that she’d almost finished the pentagram. “Isabelle,” he called, smiling at her as she walked into the room, “prepare Clary as best you can.” He motioned for Alec to follow him back to the living room.

The elder Lightwood gave his sister a questioning look, but she raised her eyebrows and motioned with her head for Alec to follow the warlock. Once the two men were out of earshot, Izzy turned to Clary, a grim look on her face. “This is going to hurt,” she murmured, smoothing her hand down Clary’s arm. “This rune is more powerful than anything you’ve faced so far.”

“Do it,” Clary insisted, steeling herself. Izzy put her stele to Clary’s arm and started carving out the rune, squeezing the limb a little tighter as Clary let out a scream, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Izzy whispered, thumb smoothing over the new rune once she was done.

The readhead swiped at the tears on her cheeks, sniffing a little. “It’s alright, it’s for my own protection. I know that. Just hurt, is all.”

“That’s one of the worse ones,” Izzy promised, rubbing her arm gently.

In the other room, Magus winced at the sound of Clary’s scream, a shudder running down his spine. Alec chewed the inside of his cheek, tentatively touching Magnus’ shoulder. The warlock glanced up to meet Alec’s eyes, and the shadowhunter offered a shy smile.

“She’ll be alright, it only hurts for a minute.” He pointed out, and Magnus sighed.

“I never had much of a stomach for that sort of thing, though my own pain tolerance is remarkably high, especially when I like whoever’s inflicting it.” He couldn’t resist teasing the younger man, and he relished the way Alec looked at him with confusion. “Anyway!”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s go summon a demon, hmm?” Magnus suggested, and Alec let out a long breath, nodding. He followed the warlock through to the room where Clary was finishing up the pentagram, Magnus letting out a lot whistle as he took in her work. “Jocelyn was right,” he marvelled, “your artistry is beyond compare.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clary sighed, getting to her feet.

Magnus hummed, eyes raking over the chalk drawing. Even Alec had to admit, it was impressive for half an hour’s work. “Oh, the only other person I’ve known who could draw as well was Michelangelo…” The warlock’s eyes lifted to meet Alec’s. “Who was excellent in bed, I might add.”

Izzy laughed as Alec squirmed, looking anywhere but at Magnus.

He’d never met a man who liked men before. Were they all so… Overt? Alec thought that he definitely had some catching up to do.

Magnus smiled fondly at Alec when he wasn’t looking, enamoured by the sweetness of him, the heart that cared more about Magnus’ people than it did about getting its leg over. He’d have to keep an eye on the eldest Lightwood. He rolled up his sleeves as he took his place on one of the points of the pentagram.

“Alright, we’re ready. Everyone take your place. We have a gap, so someone’ll have to stretch.” Magnus sighed. It would be a lot easier if they had a fifth person, but he’d asked enough of his own people for one night.

Izzy showed Clary where to stand as Magnus started to explain the ritual, and Alec’s focus narrowed in to the cadence of Magnus’ voice, trying to will his palms not to sweat. The last thing he wanted was for Magnus’ hand to slip out of his and release a greater demon in the middle of the city because he was blushing so hard just from having his hand held.

Magnus offered Alec his hand with a flourish, and Alec eyed it for a moment before taking it, pleased to see that Magnus’ hands didn’t dwarf his own. A pulse of magic sent a shock through Alec’s system, and he looked up at Magnus’ face for encouragement. When he got a little nod from the warlock, he tore his eyes away and reached out for Clary, who reached out for Izzy, who grasped tightly onto Magnus’ hand. The circle was complete, and Alec looked back at Magnus, whose hips were swaying just the tiniest fraction of an inch, leaning into the magic. It was very distracting. Especially when Magnus spoke in that authoritative voice, demanding they all do exactly as he says.

Christ.

When did he get so sexually frustrated?

Alec forced his attention back to the words that Magnus was saying, determined to make this summoning work.

“The demon’s name is Valak. At some point, he will ask for payment in exchange for Clary’s memories.” Magnus explained and Alec frowned. That didn’t sound good.

“What kind of payment?” He asked.

Magnus shrugged slightly. “We will see. Let us begin.”

Izzy and Alec gave each other a look as Magnus started chanting in some demonic language, communicating that they were both poised and ready in case things went south or Magnus wasn’t what he seemed. Clary just looked nervous when Alec glanced at her, green eyes focussed on Magnus. Odds were she wouldn’t be much help. The necklace around Izzy’s neck started pulsing as Magnus finished his spell, and Alec looked up at the ceiling and back down at the pentagram. All of a sudden, the chalk started to shine, and a rush of grey smoke came hurtling down, filling the circle.

“Valak is among us,” Magnus said, and Alec bit back a ‘no shit, sherlock’. “Do not break the bond. It’s time, the demon demands payment.”

“What does it want?” Alec asked, shouting to make himself heard over the rushing in his ears.

“We must each relinquish a moment of intimacy,” Magnus yelled back.

Izzy didn’t hesitate, her chest arching towards the smoke. An image of Alec and her, after her first break-up. She was crying into his shoulder, and he was telling her that it was all going to be alright.

Clary was next, and her memory showed Simon and her, when she taught him how to kiss on the backs of their hands. The two of them giggled, sat next to each other on a bed.

When Alec’s chest arched, he had no idea what was about to appear, and his throat closed up as he saw an image of himself, clearly a teenage girl, and his Mom as she gave him his first ever shot of testosterone, and though he couldn’t hear the words she spoke, he remembered what she’d said.

“Now you can be normal.”

Alec could feel tears of humiliation brimming in his eyes, could feel Magnus’ eyes on him. He didn’t dare look over, just tried to tug his hand out of the warlock’s desperately, wanting so badly to run away and hide.

“N-no, that can’t be right!” He choked, “the demon deceived me, it’s not…”

Was that tainted moment really the most intimate he’d ever felt with anyone?

What was wrong with him?

“Alec!” Izzy shouted, “it’s okay!”

“Do not break the bond!” Magnus snapped, squeezing his hand tightly.

Alec wrenched his hand out of Magnus’, clutched at the sides of his binder. He couldn’t breathe, it was choking him, he should never have worn it… Everyone was shouting, there was smoke everywhere, he couldn’t breathe. The next thing he knew, he was wrenched into the air, surrounded by energy that made him finally break, tears spilling down his cheeks. Was he dead?

Izzy had grabbed onto Alec’s arm right before he’d gotten pulled in by the demon, and desperately tried to pull him free of the demon’s grasp, screaming at him to snap out of it. Magnus was trying to hold the demon back, balls of magic radiating from his palms, but Clary could see that none of them could stop the demon from devouring Alec, not for long.

Resolved, she pulled out her angel blade, and ran towards Valak’s smoky shroud.

“Clary,” Magnus warned, “if you kill the demon, your memories will be lost forever!”

Clary steeled herself, narrowly avoiding a grasping tendril, and thrust the blade into the middle of the smoke. Valak cried out in pain, thrashing around before exploding in a flurry of orange sparks. Alec dropped heavily to the ground, unconscious. With a quick look at Clary, Izzy ran to her brother’s side, checking his pulse.

“He’s alive. We need to get his binder off, he’s been wearing it for hours.” She said urgently, pulling out a dagger. Magnus knelt down on Alec’s other side, waving his fingers over the shadowhunter’s chest, making his binder appear unscathed in his hand. Izzy let out a sigh of relief as Alec took in a deep breath, pushing his hair back from his face.

“Was that because of me?” Magnus asked quietly, looking a little pale. “Did he… Did I make him feel like I would judge…?”

“It’s not your fault,” Izzy insisted, “he gets really freaked out about this stuff. He thinks that people will hate him if they know…”

Alec groaned softly, trying to push himself up from the ground. Magnus tutted, and held him down by his shoulder.

“Lie still, Alec, let me make sure you’re alright.” He said gently as Alec’s eyes opened.

“I’m fine,” Alec choked, snatching his binder from Magnus’ hand and covering his chest with his arms. “Is everyone okay?”

They all looked over at Clary, who was kneeling next to the pentagram, staring down at the intricate chalk. Alec gave Izzy a questioning look, and she shook her head. Magnus got up, walking over to her and putting his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t look up at him.

“I’m sorry, Clary.” Alec murmured, sitting up with Izzy’s help. “I’m so sorry.” He’d just single-handedly fucked up any chance they had of finding the mortal cup. Because of his crush on Magnus. Because of his… deformity.

Clary looked over to him and offered him a weak, watery smile. “It’s okay, Alec. You had a panic attack, it’s not your fault.”

“A panic attack?” Both Izzy and Alec asked at the same time. Magnus tutted, and shook his head.

“I see the Clave still hasn’t decided to recognise mental health as a palpable thing…” He grumbled, putting his hands on his hips.

“It’s fine. I promise.” Clary insisted, reaching over to squeeze Alec’s knee. “We’ll find another way.”

Her kindness didn’t make Alec feel any better, and he bit fiercely into his lip to keep from crying. Izzy rubbed his back soothingly.

“I’ll give you some space. And, Alexander…” Magnus murmured, touching his shoulder. “It makes no difference to your beauty or your soul. Okay? It’s okay. I still think you’re lovely… For a shadowhunter.” He winked, patting him gently, before nodding at Izzy and wandering from the room.

Alec did cry a bit at that, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in his binder. He’d learned from experience that it was pretty absorbent. Izzy’s lower lip wobbled at the sight of her brother’s pain, and kissed his temple softly. Clary got up to give the Lightwood siblings some space, following Magnus out to the living room, where he was making a cocktail.

“Got a spare?” She asked, perching on the back of his couch. Magnus snorted.

“You’re barely eighteen, I’m not letting you drink.” He said, hesitating over his shaker. “Do you think Alec and Izzy could use one?”

“I don’t think introducing alcohol to Alec’s anxiety would help anything right now.”

“That’s probably sensible,” Magnus muttered grimly, pouring one for himself and putting the rest aside. “So… Clary Fairchild. It’s been a while.”

Clary tilted her head to the side. “How long?”

The warlock thought about it for a moment. “About three or four years. Luke didn’t like your mother wiping everything away when you were old enough to comprehend what was going on. But in the end, both of us had to respect your mother’s wishes, at least until you turned eighteen.” He smiled fondly at her. “You’ve grown into an incredible young woman. She’d be proud.”

Clary folded her arms tightly. “I don’t have any idea what I’m doing.”

“You slayed a greater demon, Biscuit. Not many shadowhunters can say that, even after years of training.” Magnus shrugged. “You will be quite the warrior. I just hope that you don’t lose your heart along the way.”

“That’ll never happen, Magnus.” She insisted, and Magnus couldn’t help but believe her, the fierceness in her eyes reflecting her mother in a way that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. He smiled.

“You’ll be fine.”

Clary shrugged, toying with the amulet around her neck. The breath whooshed out from her lungs as she saw her father, Valentine, standing over her mother’s unconscious body. He glanced up, and looked right at her.

“You want your mother? Give me the cup!” He hissed, and the vision slipped away, leaving her staring, wide eyed, at Magnus.

“What did you see?” He asked, looking at the amulet with horror.

Clary blinked away tears. “Mom.”

Next Chapter

[skam-season4]

Hog the Covers

Read on AO3

Notes:

This was written a long time ago and I'm not re-reading it before I post it, so good luck.

Isak hogs the covers.

He claims it's because he's spent all his life sleeping alone, but Even doesn't understand that argument because, up until Isak, he usually slept alone too.

Even from the first day they shared a bed, Isak hogged the blankets, and continues to do it to this very day. It didn't matter if it was in the Kollektivet, Even's parents' house, or their own apartment. It always ends up happening.

And Even has had enough of it.

He does find it cute on some level, because he wakes up to Isak burrowed tight into a cocoon of blankets, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't freeze his ass of. Every. Single. Night.

Even has brought it up on multiple occasions, from making casual teasing jokes to "Seriously. I have to have some warmth. You don't want me dying of hypothermia in my sleep". But every time, no matter what the occasion, Isak brushes it off like a joke, or just as teasingly denies he does it.

Even has tried everything. He's let Isak take all the covers and then pulled out a new blanket just for himself. Miraculously, in the morning, it's added to the pile of blue and brown bedding that's burrito-ed around the younger boy in the morning.

He's tried lying half on top of the covers so that Isak doesn't even have enough to grasp onto when he rolls over, but somehow, he almost consciously keeps tugging the blankets until they break free and envelop him in a pocket of warmth.

He's bought them a new blanket, one that's bigger then their whole bed. He figures that even if it makes its way over to Isak's duvet castle, some of it will hang off enough that he can climb underneath it. But that didn't work either. The blanket still manages to get itself wrapped around Isak twice over.

He’s even considered pulling a Malcolm in the Middle and sewing his t - shirt to the duvet.

Even can't live like this any longer.

So, naturally, being the King of Extra, Even plans a stakeout.

He goes through the normal bedtime routine. They strip to their underwear, Even leaving his white cotton t-shirt on, they brush their teeth together, and climb under the covers. Isak lies on his stomach with his head facing Even. Even lies on his side, and soon enough, Isak drifts off into a peaceful sleep. Even, on the other hand, has only closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he is sure Isak is asleep, he reaches over onto their dresser and grabs the little pad of paper and pen, sketching to keep his mind occupied for a while.

He's filled up a few small square pages with random doodles when inevitably, Isak rolls over, yanking the blue and brown striped bedspread with him. Even glances at the clock: 1:21. He scribbles the time stamp in the margins of his doodle paper for safe keeping. Then, not being too worried about waking Isak up (because let's be honest, that kid sleeps like a rock), Even returns the paper to it's place on the nightstand, flopping back down somewhat violently onto their mattress. He grabs the extra blanket he hid under the bed in preparation and snuggles into it, knowing fully that it will end up on Isak's side of the bed in the morning, but not really giving a fuck either way. It only takes about 5 minutes for him to fall asleep.

The next morning, things go normally. Isak wakes up while Even is padding around in the kitchen making eggs. They greet each other with a "halla" and a quick peck to the lips. Isak knows there's something different with Even today. They've been together long enough now that Isak notices the slight bags under his eyes, and he can recognize all the little idiosyncrasies Even has when something's wrong. And while it doesn't necessarily seem like there is anything wrong, Isak knows he's up to something.

The next night Even does the same things, just to be sure the times are consistent. That night, Isak rolls over at 1:36.

The third night, things go more or less the same. Isak falls asleep and Even kinda pretends to be. But tonight, Even has his phone in hand instead of pen and paper. He swipes the brightness all the way down, keeping an eye on the time as he scrolls through Pinterest looking for more DIY projects for the apartment.

It's around 1:15 that he sits up a little, closing Pinterest and opening a new app in place: Snapchat.

He only downloaded it about a month ago. Or rather, Magnus took his phone and downloaded it one Friday when he was too tipsy to really think much of it. Because Magnus was the one who set it up for him, the only people he had as friends were the Boy Squad, Girl Squad, Balloon Squad, and Kollektivet and friends (plus his mom, because she's woke af). He didn't use it that much. If he was bored he'd check to see what everyone was up to.

Anyway, the point is that he only used it occasionally to talk to people one on one, and he never posted anything on his story. So, it's 1:15 and he has Snapchat open and night mode on, ready to catch the blanket hog in action. He sits there until 1:29 when Isak does roll over, and holds his thumb over the bubble at the bottom of the screen and waits for the red circle to close as Isak tosses and wraps all the covers and the whole duvet around himself. Even lets the video time out to ten seconds, puts a filter on it to make it a little brighter, and saves it to his memories.

The next morning as Isak rolls out of bed and is getting ready for school, he hears Even address him from the next room over.

"You know, you stole all the covers again last night." Isak snaps his head over to he direction of the kitchen from where he is at the table.

"Nei, I did not." He replies, his voice laced with childishness. Even returns from the kitchen with his tea mug in hand and sits down across from him.

"Ja, you did. You do every night. I freeze to death every morning, and you don't even care. You need to do something about it", Even says kind of smugly, raising his eyebrows as he sips his tea.

"Whatever", Isak says in English while narrowing his eyes. "You're just sensitive", he adds mockingly.

"You are aware that you have all the sheets wrapped around you when you wake up, right?" Even already knows he's won this argument.

"I- but- that's just- whatever", Isak sputters lamely.

Even nods in a way that seems like he just confirmed plans with a friend. Now Isak knows he's up to something.

Later that day, Isak, Even, and the rest of the Boy Squad are sitting around the courtyard chatting and eating lunch.

Jonas is retelling some anecdote about something embarrassing that happened to Magnus at a party on Saturday, Madhi occasionally interjecting a noise or a line to add the dramatic retelling. Magnus, meanwhile, sits by with a slowly reddening face as he sprinkles weak little "I did not"s and "That's not how it happened"s through the story.

Eventually the whole conversation spirals into The Best and Worst of Magnus anecdotes, which then get weaved into The Best and Worst of Isak anecdotes, because Isak is the boy's second choice of who to make fun of, Magnus claiming first of course. Jonas is currently reliving a story in which a girl in their elementary school class had a crush on Isak. Apparently, one day she tried to kiss him in the schoolyard, and he didn't know how to deal with it, so he just kicked her in the shin and walked away. All the boys thought this was extremely comical, Magnus in particular, who unnecessarily points out, "It's funny 'cause now he's with a boy now!" Even finds this whole story pretty hilarious and will definitely tease him endlessly about it later, but he has more pressing matters to attend to right now.

"Have I told you guys about Isak hogging all the blankets during the night?" Isak is immediately rolling his eyes, shaking his head, and saying, "Not this again, Even. You're so dramatic." All the boys turn to Even, Magnus' mouth hanging open slightly, all of them silently asking are you gonna do anything about this?

Even just gives a little shrug and drops it. Its okay, because he has a plan for later.

Later that evening, Isak is lying on their bed scrolling through his phone while Even sits at the table, sketching. Isak liked Vilde's latest post on Instagram, had scrolled through Facebook already, and was now checking Snapchat. Jonas posted a video of himself trying to film while skating, and ended up almost face planting. Eva posted a cute selfie of her and Penetrator Chris, Vilde posted a video of Chris talking about something weird and probably out of context, and Even posted- wait. Was he seeing this right? Even Even? Like, the Even he was dating that refused to post anything ever on his story Even? He clicks on Even's name.

Over the top of his sketchbook Even sees Isak jolt upright right before screeching an ear piercing, "EVEN! HVA FAEN!? HOW COULD YOU!?" Isak doesn't wait for an answer before he's springing up and crossing the room to Even, who is currently tipped back in his chair resting on its back legs and laughing his ass off.

"GIVE ME YOUR PHONE", Isak demands, and Even hands it over with a few more dissipating giggles. Isak opens the Snapchat app, pressing the three little dots on the right of the screen next to the My Story banner.  He scrolls down and presses on the video captioned “I told you, gutta”.Upon reading who all has viewed the video (Jonas, Yousef, Madhi, Mamma <3, Mikael, Adam, Noora, Magnus, Elias, Eva, Sana, Mutta, Eskild, Linn, Vilde, and Chris. So basically, everyone that mattered), Isak lets loose another sting of profanities while slamming his fists into Even's chest and whining at the loudest possible decibel. Even is back to shaking with booming laughter while weakly trying to calm Isak down.

Needless to say, Isak will definitely get him back for this.

Notes:

I don't know if I want to continue these. We'll see.

[yoi-secret-valentines2017]

( @porkcutletbowl-on-ice, hi! I am your valentines! Your hint was Viktuuri, so here’s Viktuuri. You also said that Viktor is the most beautiful and I totally agree but somehow forgot to include it in this fic??? Shame on me. Anyways, I’m really truly sorry you needed a pinch hitter in the first place (sorry to both you and the organizer!!!!) but I hope this is good enough! It is 3,450 words which is like a world record for me, and it’s about jetlagged Yuuri moving in to Viktor’s apartment in St. Petersburg. I really wanted to highlight the uncomfortableness of cohabitation (also jetlag ugh so there’s lots of napping for Yuuri). You said ‘yes’ to nsfw, so there is implied sex, but that’s it. Other than that it’s fluff and romantic tension. I will post to ao3 after the reveal as well! Please enjoy! Humbly yours, Elliott Fletcher.)

Title: Hallelujah Whispered Softly

Summary: Yuuri walks around the table to stand in front of Viktor, and he says, “I’m cold,” in the smallest voice Viktor’s ever heard.

“That’s okay,” Viktor tells him, swallows him whole with just his thin arms, and it is warm, getting warmer, steadily.

Fic:

It is cold in St. Petersburg — cold on the walk from the airport, cold in the hallway, and cold with a key between his fingers as he turns it through the lock. The apartment is cold, too, though a furnace hums somewhere within the walls. He steps inside and inhales a waft of lavender which he presumes is from the mop pail stranded in the middle of the hallway.

“I - ” His voice is not as loud as it should be, does not come easy as he wills it out into the air. He has to try again. “I’m h-here.”

From around the kitty corner, he distinguishes Viktor’s voice among the clinking of dishes. Viktor exclaims in Russian — and Yuuri’s grasped enough of the language, now, to understand what he says — “Ah! Yuuri’s home, Mama.” His footfalls thud against the hardwood floor, and he appears, ecstatic in his eyes and his smile, a checkered towel in his hands and suds along his forearms where he has rolled the sleeves of his flannel shirt to the elbow. 

“I’m gonna greet him,” he jumps over the mop pail like it is a hurdle and skids to a stop mere feet in front of Yuuri, the stretch of the Welcome mat between them. Their eyes lock, and Viktor rushes his words: “Okay, I love you — Yep, bye!“ 

Thoughtlessly, Viktor tosses the house phone — an old, cream wireless with a thick antenna protruding from the head — in the direction of the couch, where it lands square on Makkachin’s belly. Viktor pounces on Yuuri, entrapping him in a hug that squishes his arms into his sides and restricts his hastened breath and movement. He smiles wider with every lasting kiss Viktor peppers to his cheeks and forehead, and the single peck to his nose has him giggling. Viktor does not ask how the flight was (he knows Yuuri will always find it dreadful), so he says, simply:

"You’re home,” Viktor holds his face in his hands, and Yuuri has to agree regardless of his hesitation to call anything other than Yutopia Akatsuki ‘home’.

He says, “Yeah,” and watches Viktor scamper back to the kitchen (dodging the pail entirely this time). He unties his shoe laces, loosening far up to the toe before slipping them off. Makkachin saunters over, and he rubs at his collar, touching their foreheads together. He repeats to himself, “Yeah.”

-

“Yuuri? Are you napping?” Viktor calls softly from the doorway, framed in gold light. There is a squatty, Viktor-shaped shadow cast along the floor that Yuuri giggles, delirious, at before he says:

“Was,” and he is not bitter so much as reluctant to leave Viktor’s plush, king-sized bed —  reluctant to unravel himself from the blankets that smell so distinctly like Viktor (mint toothpaste and lavender).

Viktor steps into the room, clicking the door shut behind him blindly and leaning against it. Yuuri feels his eyes on his skin, a warmth that tingles in his stomach, and he tucks his face into the pillow so Viktor will not notice the drool on his chin.

“You slept through dinner,” Viktor tells him, sliding to the floor, his cheeks puffed with air he deflates slowly; the buttons on his back pockets chink against the wooden door. It is an uncomfortable noise that alerts Yuuri, waking him thoroughly. “It’s on the stove if you’d like to eat?" 

His voice raises, still soft but hopeful now. It coaxes Yuuri to sit up, and he stands on shaking legs. The floor creaks with the weight of him, each sound out of place, each step aching in his muscles. He pokes the crown of Viktor’s head where the part falls back. Their movements cease, held by their (happy, heavy, sleepy) gazes and the one place they touch. Yuuri leans against the wall, sliding down to the floor and aligning their hips and shoulders until they are even. 

A sob escapes from his throat. Viktor pulls Yuuri into his chest and holds him, holds him tight, palms cupping his shoulders and calming the tremors.

"What’s wrong?” Viktor asks, sweet, the same way he called out to a quiet room, and hushed-like, into his ear. His forehead presses calmly into Yuuri’s head, pulling apart the tension.

“I think … homesick,” he clenches the wings of Viktor’s flannel shirt in his balled fists, teeth and jaw ringing.

Viktor spent a tranquil hour on the floor, rubbing tender into Yuuri’s temples and retelling the story of when he first left home. He made Yuuri laugh, and now they eat dinner, Viktor for the second time. Yuuri keeps putting his bowl in the microwave for longer seconds, but each time he removes it, it is the same room temperature, never warmer.

“Should we look at possible music for your Free Program?”

Yuuri deflates, resting his head on a book that sits open on the table. The fine print swims, setting a pulse in his temple that he rubs the ache out of. “Not in the mood,” he says regretfully. 

Viktor sighs. “Well … ” Yuuri knows he is searching for another interest to lighten the atmosphere, but it clings to the uncomfortable and does not wish to be changed. “I’ve been clearing out the closet to make more space for your stuff — ”

“I didn’t bring that much,” Yuuri interrupts, shovelling the soup into his mouth. It sits unpleasantly on his tongue.

Viktor says, “It’s fine,” dismissive, and he stands from the table. “I found some old diaries of mine. I think they might cheer you up.”

Yuuri tries to smile, but it does not mask the exhaustion in his eyes. “Could we … save them for when I’m actually awake to appreciate them?” He stirs his spoon around the bowl, whirl-pooling carrot medallions and cubed meat. He frowns into his murky reflection.

Viktor nods, removing Yuuri’s bowl and whisking it off the cluttered table. “You didn’t like it?”

“I don’t think I could stomach Katsudon right now, Viktor. Don’t take it personally.”

He hesitates. “I won’t,” he says eventually, and he turns to scrape the remainder of Yuuri’s dinner into the garbage bin.

Yuuri feels hazy with the tension of the air and the relentless sinking of his gut. He wants nothing more than to sleep off the sickening sensation. He stands from his chair and rubs his arms as he retreats to the bedroom once more. He tugs on a sweater, pauses, then reaches for the two zip-ups on the dresser. He rolls a second pair of socks over the first because it is cold in St. Petersburg.

-

“Viktor, I’m cold,” Yuuri says into the dark of the room. The void swallows up his words, and he would think Viktor had not heard if not for his emphatic flopping about the mattress.

Viktor hushes between his teeth and asks, “How?” His voices hoarse from the dry air and snoring. “It’s boiling in here.”

Yuuri opens his eyes blearily; he sees sweat along Viktor’s brow and the discarded covers. “ … Sorry,” he whispers, and he rubs at his arms for warmth. The bed jostles beneath him with just those small movements, so he stops. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I’m sorry.”

He moves little and sleeps even less, waking numb with a ringing just beneath his skin. He reaches for his glasses, fumbling, and when he puts them on, the world blends a little blurry from sleep. He holds his breath as he climbs over Viktor to get to the door, and the floorboards creak oddly beneath his socked feet, unfamiliar. He tiptoes to the bathroom, locking it belatedly after he stripped himself of his three sweatshirts and other layered clothing. He turns the shower full hot and lets out a piss before hopping in to thaw.

He stays under the stream until the water flows colder, for an eternity — long enough for Viktor to wake from the dead and cook breakfast because it is laid on the table when he exits the bathroom, bare feet trailing water across the icy floor (the chill sends shudders up his spine).

“Viktor?” He calls.

“Right here.”

“Okay,” He says, and he should be walking forward, but he finds he cannot move. Some force holds him, frozen — the same force that keeps him tense around Viktor like he is nothing more than a stranger and not the one Yuuri loves. He huffs, quiet, and wills himself to move — huffs again.

“Yuuri?” And Oh, it is so much softer. Viktor peers around the kitty corner of the kitchen. He says, “I was thinking a lot last night, and I want to talk to you.” He has this soft smile Yuuri cannot bear to look at, so his gaze drops to the floor. This is bad, the lead in his muscles tells him. And you just got here, too. “Yuuri?”

His inhale is sharp, and his eyes sting (he cannot recall the last time he blinked, so he squeezes his eyes shut). “Yep — ” but it is breathless.

“Just … let me shower. I’ll be out in five.” And then, belatedly, “There’s coffee.”

Viktor walks past breezily, yelping, thudding, giggling to himself. Yuuri winces but does not turn around. With the light sound of laughter, the ink in his veins thins. The bathroom door swings shut, and Yuuri meanders into the kitchen. He assesses the coffee pot — half full — and walks past to the bedroom where he finds a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans, alpaca socks, and his heaviest sweater. His shoulders droop with more than just the weight of his clothes.

Viktor’s words come back to him: 'Thinking a lot’ and 'Wanting to talk’ — both sound dreadful, daunting in a way that makes the coffee he now sips unpleasant and the skin of his knees itch. He tugs on his hair and removes his glasses (because he is too worried to see anything more than colour). His coffee has one sip left, and he leaves it in the mug. Five minutes pass too quickly; Viktor is there, in baby blue jeans and a white t-shirt, too crisp for the muddled thoughts riddling Yuuri’s mind.

“Okay,” Viktor claps his hands, and he is standing with eyes alight and hands that fidget at his dampened collar while Yuuri sinks further into his seat. “First of all, don’t be worried.”

“Easier said than done,” Yuuri says, and he drains his cup (the liquid is cold).

“I want to say … ” Viktor inhales through his mouth, flashing brushed teeth and a pink tongue. “I want to say that you don’t have to be perfect here. You can take naps and use up all the hot water, have morning breath, leave your socks on the floor, whine about being cold, wake me up in the middle of the night — do it all.” He takes more quick breaths. “I want you to - I want you to be you, and you are a human with a tendency to be human, so don’t — don’t try to hide that. Don’t hide anything. Okay?”

Yuuri stands slowly, and his chair scrapes against the floor.

Viktor asks again, quieter, “Okay?”

Yuuri walks around the table to stand in front of Viktor, and he says, “I’m cold,” in the smallest voice Viktor’s ever heard.

“That’s okay,” Viktor tells him, swallows him whole with just his thin arms, and it is warm, getting warmer, steadily.

-

It is cold in St. Petersburg - a cold that stiffens his hands and tightens his skin. It bears no resemblance to the cold of Hatsetsu, with heavy snow and frosted glass windows. St. Petersburg is fog rolling along cobblestone and up the brick walls of apartment buildings. Even with the furnace blasting heat from hidden vents, a hot water bottle tucked to his stomach, and Viktor (a space heater) curved along his back, Yuuri shivers.

“What time is it?” he asks, face smushed into Viktor’s arm. He rubs his cheek on the tender skin, and it gradually tenses, twitching, ticklish. He kisses the muscle, and Viktor stirs.

“What? Uh … three? It’s exactly three — what’s wrong?” He wraps his arms around Yuuri’s belly, nudging the hot water bottle away and shifting closer to Yuuri since he is too heavy to pull inwards.

“Just cold,” Yuuri sighs. It is not 'just’. He knows there is more to it, and he knows that Viktor knows that too.

Viktor lays his lips along the back of Yuuri’s neck (soft, pliant, warm), and they only part when Yuuri rolls onto his back. “What’s cold?” Viktor asks, the slightest hush against Yuuri’s cheek where his nose presses from the bridge to the tip.

“ … My hands,” Yuuri whispers, and there is no time, no moment, between the words and the holding of his palms. They press against the flood of heat that radiates from Viktor’s naked chest, and though Viktor’s own fingers chill, Yuuri is overcome with the lasting warmth. “And my face, kind of,” he says, and again, without hesitation, Viktor presses the hot of his mouth to Yuuri’s cheek and breathes. Yuuri holds himself still, close his eyes against the lips that have melted into mumbling against his temple.

“What else?” Those pretty lips ask.

“My stomach.”

Viktor pulls Yuuri’s hands from the crest of his collar, and Yuuri curves them around Viktor’s neck, fingertips pressing delicately into the skin along his spine. Viktor rolls onto his stomach, onto Yuuri. He is light in the way he holds himself with his arms framed along the pillow, but the length of his torso and the curve of his legs weigh heavy. They fit from chest to toe, thin and thick alternatively, and Viktor brushes the hem of Yuuri;s shirt, pulls it to his sternum and then higher. He presses their stomachs together, and they shiver with the bareness of it. If he closes his eyes, he can feel the dip of Viktor’s navel beside his, and he cants up for a less abstract pressure.

“Warm enough?” Viktor asks, lips on Yuuri’s chin and climbing higher.

Yuuri has the fabric of his long underwear and Viktor’s boxers between his thumb and forefinger, and he rubs the flannel against his fingertips twice before sliding both pants down just … just enough to press these warmths together. 

“Almost,” he whispers into Viktor’s mouth when it caresses his, “Not yet.”

-

Tea is warm, but the apartment is cold. He cradles his mug in both palms, breathing in minty steam. He takes a sip, savouring the liquid on his tongue before swallowing. The ceramic clinks against the coffee table, and when he leans back into the couch, Viktor grasps one of his socked feet. He squeezes twice, and Yuuri squirms; if his tea was still in his hands, it would have spilled onto his chest for all he jiggled.

“What are you doing,” Yuuri says, exasperated but in a tired way that puts his ill heart at ease in the evening hours. “I’m ticklish.”

“You’re also tired,” Viktor folds his legs and shifts to face Yuuri on the couch, bringing his foot to rest on his thigh. “Mama used to rub my feet when I was tired.”

Yuuri sighs, sliding closer so it is his shoulders on the armrest and not his back. “You can,” he yawns, “can show me those diaries now.”

“Are you going to fall asleep on me?” Viktor asks, leaning close to touch their noses together.

“ … Maybe?" 

Viktor pecks his nose, swinging Yuuri’s legs off his lap and standing in one swift movement. He runs his hands through his hair as he walks, disappearing around the kitty corner. Yuuri reaches for his mug and takes a sip, setting it back on the coffee table just as Viktor slides around the bend on one sock, his other leg extended in a perfected arabesque. He skids to a stop, and Yuuri’s eyes focus on the two butterfly books he cradles in his arms — crafted of brown moleskin with purple stickers.

Viktor makes to faint onto the couch, and Yuuri retracts his legs at the last moment to save them from being crushed. Viktor lies down beside Yuuri so their faces press close, and he sets one diary aside to open the other, revealing crisp, white pages and a felt-blue glitter pen’s scrawl.

"This one’s a journal,” He says, breath hitting Yuuri’s cheek, and he presses his smile to the flush of Yuuri’s skin — all teeth and thin lips. “The other’s a skating wish-list from junior division.”

“Wish-list?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor readjusts himself, tucking into the back of the couch and sitting up against the arm. “For songs I really liked, or jumps I wanted to learn, future themes … ” His words dissolve into kisses he engraves along the juncture of Yuuri’s neck, where the cotton of his shirt slips and the fever of his face fades.

Viktor reads the entries aloud, projecting his voice in a sweet medium that lulls Yuuri into daydreams. He only wakes with a snort when he hears Viktor’s commentary. He listens to tale after tale, and with the end of each one, he feels a little closer to the Man tucked into his side, a little more familiar in this cold place of fog and steeple. 

He is entranced by the steady flow of words, and they blur together into a single strand until he can no longer hold Viktor’s gaze. He lets his eyes close, slowly, reluctant for sleep to take him, and then he feels a weightless air under him and not the suede of the couch. Viktor’s arms hold him to his chest, legs swept up and rested in the crook of his elbow. Yuuri breathes sharply, dreary and on the verge of unconsciousness, and he tucks his head into Viktor’s neck where his nose can warm.

“Will you put dinner away?” Yuuri mumbles, and Viktor hushes him, laying a kiss at his hairline.

“Sure,” He hikes Yuuri higher in his arms, and Yuuri’s stomach drops. He clenches his fingers into the collar of Viktor’s t-shirt, and he watches his Adam’s apple bob when he says, “You sleep. I’m going to read the other diary. I’ll join you,” Viktor yawns, and the sight compels Yuuri to yawn as well. “I’ll join you soon.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says, and Viktor lays him on the bed. Yuuri wraps his arms around Viktor’s neck and kisses his lips soundly before collapsing onto the mattress. “I love you,” He tells Viktor, and Viktor pulls the duvet cover up to Yuuri’s shoulders.

He kisses Yuuri’s cheek where it flushes pink and removes his glasses. “I love you too.”

-

Yuuri is jerked awake, startled. “What — What time is it, Viktor!”

“Time doesn’t matter, Yuuri. I have the music for your free program.” Viktor leaps onto the bed, jostling Yuuri’s blanket cocoon. He steps on Makkachin’s tail, and a yelp resounds from both Viktor and his dog, sharp against the white noise that fills the apartment. Viktor is giddy, from his pink shoulders to his pink cheeks, and they pinch around the grin he cannot contain when he is with Yuuri. He is vividly overcome with a sense of déjà vu, but it slips away with the tinge of cold on his fingertips.

Where? Yuuri wants to ask, can feel the word on is tongue, but Viktor is already telling him: “I found it at the bottom of the wish-list, unscratched.”

Yuuri wriggles to sit up in bed, reaching for his glasses, but Viktor says, “You don’t need them. Just — listen.”

He does, with a sleepy, fluttering heart, and he finds Viktor’s hand in his own. It is as warm as the headphones against his ears, hot from Viktor’s own head where it has stayed presumably for the duration of Yuuri’s sleep. An enchanting melody settles him against the headboard, and Viktor sidles beside him, ear pressed to the outside of the right headphone to hear as well.

Quietly, quietly, a voice starts to sing. Yuuri exhales, but the breath does not leave him fast enough. It is a hallelujah whispered softly in his ear. “Yes,” he nods, but he cannot express how much 'Yes’ fast enough. He squeezes Viktor’s hand, all hat muscle against his, all that skin and bone and heartbeat, and he looks carefully into Viktor’s eyes, though he cannot see them clearly. Blue blends into his eyelashes, and the pinks of his cheeks stretches over his red mouth. Yuuri kisses it, “Yes.”

The End

I hope you liked it!