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axl-ul · 5 months

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The Flight of the Western Crane: Chapter Fourteen

(A reupload/repost of my fic/dark retellingof Journey to the West which can be also found on AO3 under the same name)

(General info about this fic/wip/retelling is here)

****

Under the sky, thick redwood tree giants, golden larches and discreet gutta percha trees were covering the area with their wide veils. Every single twig played in various shades of green, the only colour which seemingly brought some vibrancy to grey daybreak. Yet, under their leaves, an unbelievable humidity carrying the stench of decay and boiling hotness quickly wrapped around the group of armed travellers who took hiding in the swampy groove, making their scaly skins under the armour drown in salty sweat mixed with dust and peeling skin. Only one of them didn’t seem to care much about the tough conditions despite the thick fur covering him from head to toe. Standing in the darkest shadow, he appeared as a terrible statue dressed in a tattered cloak and a brown waist sash of a beggar. Yet nothing but a pure arrogance of a victorious thunder god was carved into his grotesque features.

The nameless monkey’s pupils had to burn with tiny orange flames so he could keep watching the cursed Dragon Prince warily. The snow-white body was lying on the moist ground not moving. The steamy fumes streamed out of the nostrils like the gas leaking from under the bubbling surface of the nearby dirty pool. The dead river arm desperately tried to hold onto the last bits of life just like the will of the dragon horse. Its numerous thin fingers stretched out among the low hanging cypresses and low fruitless bushes or lilacs.

The horse snorted from his deep sleep with great difficulty. Lie’s nose was in the worst condition than ever before, the pink was painted over with deep purple and indigo blue from numerous bruises.

While the ominous figure never left the prey out of sight, his fingers played with a tiny flask filled with a dark liquid.

What to ask? Where is Sun Wukong? To trust Golden Wind with the task of hunting down the Pilgrims wasn’t an option he was willing to prolong. His future younger brother must surely know something. Anything.

The macaque’s foot was quickly tapping on the ground as he pouted.

The liquid splashed behind the glass. An inaudible noise for a mortal. Yet for the demon, it marked a promising future.

The macaque brought the item to his vision and observed the essence for the hundredth time. His hawk eyes were as precise as always even now in the treacherous shadows of the swamp. In no way they could have been easily deceived.

Truly, the creature he witnessed had blood darker than the night, darker than the core of the rotting pit, the corner where his damned soul should be.

****

The macaque’s hands brushed away the twigs and lianas of the gargantuan banyan like two rakes. Faster than any other being in the humid forest, he certainly gained a lot of strength from the devoured monkeys of Mount Huaguo. Most of his skin was already covered by golden-brown hair, which got darker with each day. Occasionally, there were red dots sprinkled over the fur on hands and throat which kept holding on, refusing to be washed away by the light summer drizzle. Yet there still remained a few spots on his face, back and legs where the skin and the muscle didn’t replace the dead rock. It, however, crumbled with each step and the more he went, the more flesh was born from it. The freedom washed over him. He wanted to feel like all those years ago when he for the first time saw the golden light, the innocent blue sky threaded with creamy clouds and the waving trees of the wide mountain. He really should have been feeling like an infant as he was freed only a few days ago.

But he didn’t.

He knew he couldn’t. Although, his hunger matched that of a newborn.

His eyes darted around, his mind was stripped of any remorse. The demon wanted to feed. It became his only wish. To feed, to grow stronger, to conquer, to murder, to last forever.

That was his purpose. To survive and to show he was the strongest. In the chaos of the world, nothing was certain. Anything was fleeting, anything could easily get lost. Anything but him. He is eternal.

He desires to be the next sky, the next stars, the next sun, the next moon and wind. The next seas and oceans and mountains. He will last far longer than forever. He will become beyond comprehension. That is his potential, what he truly must become for he was born to achieve it, to claim it.

He. Tianchan Shihou.

The macaque was submerged in his own thoughts; he did not realise the terrible howling coming from nearby.

He stopped. His six ears perked up as he carefully listened.

Yes. A howling. A terrible blood-freezing screech which the inky night should have carried away. But the sound continued. A metal clashed against a metal. The fight resonated and made the curious macaque come closer. From behind a massive boulder coated with moss, the demon carefully observed.

What he saw, he couldn’t believe.

A being with a head of a one-eyed brown dog and horse hooves leaped against an unbelievably tall naked creature which resembled a person only in the structure of the body and the amount of limbs. Its skin was as pale as fresh snow, a perfect contrast to the dark hair wildly flying around as the creature ducked down from the incoming attack. Even though it didn’t last a second and the distance between the two enemies and the monkey was rather big, the demon noticed a pair of dots located on the creature’s face. Eyes. He wasn’t sure, though. But if they were, those were the biggest and the darkest eyes he’d ever seen on anyone.

Another cry, another spit, another kick into the stomach and shin and they clashed again. Now the demon monkey understood. Their crossed claws were the source of the ear-piercing clang.

The pale one roared in a voice like a thunder. It thrilled and waved around the vast area as the pair fought and bled.

The sight, the view, the sheer speed and might far greater than his own sent shivers down his spine. Not from fear, though.

The pale one shrieked as the twisted dog-creature with a muscular human torso leapt forward and bit down into the lanky neck. The dirty teeth tore down into the flesh until something black started pouring out.

The macaque thought he recognized the winner. However, his judgement wasn’t correct this time.

A sound of meat being torn apart, white bones crushed to dust, a splash of red blood reeking from the hole in the barking dog’s chest as the clawed hand of the pale creature ripped through it. There, imprisoned among those dry dead man’s fingers was a beating heart.

The dog monster collapsed on the ground, motionless, while the pale one’s protruding spine arched back so the pale demon could howl in a bitter victory. Yet, the relieved puffs didn’t last long. Holding the breath for a moment, the face with sunken cheeks turned to the East so the abysmal eyes could inspect the starless sky.

The macaque didn’t understand at first the terror in that face. He followed the direction of the creature’s gaze until he met the rays and warmth of the rising sun. The creature screeched for the last time as it grabbed onto its wounds and limped in the opposite direction. Enormous bat wings grew from under the ashen skin and in a flick of an eye, the thing disappeared in the remains of the night sky as black as charcoal.

Understanding the risks of coming out of his hideout too soon, the demon waited for the sun to fully come out, enjoying the pleasant change of the colour palette in the meanwhile.

Surely, it was a bizarre look on the foreign corpse lying among the numerous flowers of snow-white rhododendrons, bright lilies with spotted yellow petals and carmine orchids. A grotesque contrast for sure, when nobody knows whether to admire the bizarre scene nearly taken out from a fine collection or paintings or to cry out from dread.

These odd circumstances certainly caught the macaque’s attention. But not in the way those dark dots on the dried out twigs and trampled grass did.

At first, he thought the ooze was only covering the affected areas. Looking closer, the macaque noticed a peculiar detail. Everything it had touched was now rotting and hissing as the liquid burnt through.

His brown eye with a scarred brow twitched. A malicious toothy smile suddenly cooled down the summer air. He vigorously stood up, the heels of his bare feet digging into the wet soil. Quickly, the monkey robbed the one-eyed canine to the last possession. As if by a miracle from the Heavens, a little flask was included, too.

Soon, he proudly started to munch on the meat of the fallen. His face twisted, already distinct wrinkles became even more profound. The taste was nauseating. Not sure whether the meat was naturally so repulsive to digest or it was the effect of the black blood, he spat it out. Although the strange monkey hated the idea of wasting food, his crying stomach and the bitterness building up in the back of his throat changed his mind quickly. The acidic aftertaste kept on nagging him for a long time, even when he returned to his pursuit of the Pilgrims and his destiny, gold-plated on the first glance, yet crooked and rotting deep within.

****

The macaque demon shook his head. The memory used to be exciting. Now, it’s a bitter reminder of his own weaknesses. He must get stronger. The sooner the better.

What’s a better way of achieving that if not becoming one again…or only the sole one?

Soon, the mount’s limbs started to convulse and the macaque with six tattered ears threw away his flaming mask of arrogance.

****

Lie’s heavy eyelids uncovered his blood-shot eyes as the mount was starting to gain consciousness. His strong muscles were sore and exhausted. His legs were bound together by a strangling rope, thus he had no way to stand up. The rough material cut him deep. Those invisible claws and fangs, daggers and needles sucked on his strength and energy, his blood and pain became the source of their collective but twisted pleasure. Worse, the nest of his despair didn’t end there. His heavy body was crushing his innards. His lungs itched and jabbed. Puffing and trying to neigh, he became no more than a jerking worm drowning in a pool of mud and dirt. His heart was beating wildly. Like a wild river, the mount’s boiling blood was running through the veins, his pulse quickened as a fog enveloped his surroundings.

At last, the most desperate neigh stuck somewhere in the unknown of his stranded thoughts. It never reached the outside to be heard by anyone.

His terror, however, bounced back and cut deep into his heart once Lie noticed two flaming eyes targeting him from the darkness so thick and glutinous as treacle.

Lie froze. A tired hoot, a sound more of a low but loud screech than a twittering melody, reached his ears yet it was all that managed to get to him through the thick coat of horror which wrapped around him completely and caused an unbelievable tremor to his body.

“You should rest while you can, Brother Lie.“

He was there. Looking right back at the Dragon Prince. A pair of miniature charcoal pupils encircled by hellish flames. Two damned islands in the middle of a large face painting where the skin convoluted with deep wrinkles until they resembled terrible waves.

“Don’t call me your brother. You’re nothing to me.“ Though still trembling and stuttering, Bai Long Ma himself was taken by surprise by his audacious words.

The stranger, whose dark cloak rested on his wide shoulders like terrible birds of omen, remained unfazed, though. Only the sharp jaw clenched. “Where’s Shifu?“

“Stop referring to him as such! I may not know what you’re exactly,“ goosebumps emerged on Lie’s skin the more resemblance he noticed between Wukong and the demon in front of him,“but I'm sure you ain’t up to no good.“

The horse’s fury had no impact. The six-eared stranger muttered his question again. “Where’s Shifu?“

That was the last drop. The dragon horse inhaled deeply and then spat out a large flame towards the monkey. Once the fire was gone, the Prince bulged his eyes out as he saw nobody standing on the spot he aimed at. But within a few seconds, a dull pain struck the back of his head. The kick caused dozens of miniature stars to appear in the horse’s vision. Then, a clawed hand grabbed him from behind under the throat and elevated the Prince’s head. The fiend whispered to his ear,“Where’s Shifu? Where’s the imposter? Don’t try to lie. I know all of you too well to know where you’re trying to dance around the words.“

“Go…“ Lie puffed, the iron taste spreaded on his forked tongue,“...to Hell.“

The unknown demon chuckled. “Don’t need to. I’ve already been there and let me tell you, Yama isn't as scary as some like to claim. At least he didn’t protest when I made a little update to his records.“

The macaque let the mount’s head meet the floor. The prisoner lay still with his eyelids shut, his initial shallow breaths slowed down and significantly deepened.

Although it was a pitiful sight at the humiliated heir of the Dragon King of the West, the Prince had no intention of letting his only friends down. His inner willpower and courage burnt in his heart and caused the fear to retreat.

The macaque, of course, noticed it. Although it complicated his plans, he wasn’t angry. His thin, strangely playful, smile showed how the creature’s resistance really amused him. The nameless macaque shook his head and politely added,“Sorry for that outburst. I let myself get carried away a bit. Y’know, the temperament is sort of my thing. But, brother, please. Just answer my simple question and we can continue westward soon. I know that you know that Shifu needs us. He’s in great danger. That swarm of demons shall devour him soon. Idiot and Little Brother won’t be enough for protection. I can save us.“

Lie gathered the last strength as his head rose from the stinking brown mud beneath. His voice was fragile, the macaque had to lean in to hear properly despite the six ears decorating his head. “I’ve already answered you. Go to Hell and don’t call me your brother.“

A spit landed in the middle of his forehead. The monkey’s eyes flared up. He grabbed the nearest stone and nearly struck the horse’s head with it.

Lie’s heart raced as fast as a rabbit followed by the village hounds. He expected the hit to land any time soon. Thankfully, though, a tall viper demon with a disfigured cheek walked out of the shadows. The bald head retracted and hid in the safe zone of his shoulders when he noticed what the demon monkey was about to do. “I’m sorry to bother you once more, sir. Me and the boys thought of a pretty addition to your plan scheduled on the nearest full moon-“

The rock flew right by the snake’s trembling jaw. Like tiny arrows, numeros splinters caressed his wide scar. The scaly demon thanked the Heavens perhaps for the first time in his miserable life because when he turned around, the stone knocked a hole into the mighty trunk. Without ever looking back, the lone macaque growled, his index finger stretching out from the slim hand,“Golden Wind, this was your last warning. Let’s be honest, ‘thinking’ isn’t your strength. Let that part to me. One last thing, so I don’t forget. Don’t you dare to disturb me ever again. I’ve been holding myself back so long around you I consider it my new record.“

Goosebumps emerged like tiny sharp hills on Golden Wind Viper’s greenish skin. It curled and crinkled as bulging eyes emerged from the skull. Backing away like a defenceless mouse, the sweat drops flooded his temples for the second time and fell to the smelly mud beneath when the nameless demon suddenly turned around. Golden Wind Viper let out a whimper. Before he managed to run back to his troop, the tired monkey sighed and ordered the viper fiend to interrogate the monk’s mount. A clumsy salute and the viper was no more.

Before the nameless one jumped back to the shadows to get some sleep after the rough day and night, the hoarse voice of Ao Lie made him stop and bared teeth. “I may not know who or what you are. But trust me, it won’t take a long time for me to break from these chains. I, Ao Lie, the son of Dragon King of the West Sea, swear to the Jade Emperor and Buddha I shall save my Shifu and brothers from whatever you plan you got.“

“Look at yourself. You can barely keep your eyes open. Stop giving yourself these false chances. Spare yourself and myself the embarrassment.“

“Not in this life nor in the next one if I’m not destined to reach the West. But as long as I breathe, you bet I’ll do my best to do so.“

A long tail swished like a whip, the macaque bounced from the floor of the swamp and gripped on one of the branches of the nearby banyan tree.

“I have one last question for you before your lackeys come to beat me up.“

The macaque smirked, his dark eyes glistened once again and cut the fumes rising from the dirty pool in half. “Then speak your mind up for the last time today, Your Dragon Highness.“

“You think you may know every secret thanks to your six ears. But how are you so confident you know any of us, especially Brother Wukong, so well? We’ve never met.“

The simian didn’t answer. Instead, he let Golden Wind Viper’s belt silence the horse.

Finally, he reached the highest branch. As soon as he climbed up, the cicadas resting on the wood flew up and spreaded on the wide blanket of the sky, which was slowly but surely changing its cool shades of grey to pink and carmine.

He lay down despite the cries and screams coming from underneath and closed his eyes, slowly drifting off. He simply couldn’t be bothered by the suffering of the horse disciple as the dragon prince chose his path himself. Those cries and chokes would end soon anyway.

However, the macaque wasn’t able to find any peace in his sleep. He kept on changing sides, turning from right to left, then from left to right. He cursed under his shallow breath because of his earlier decision to remember the fateful night of finding the black blood of the pale creature. As much as he tried, he couldn’t forget the face of that thing. It always stared back at him from the pitch black of his long dream.

Prolonged, gaunt, protruding.

And those eyes. Those two blackest coals on earth were slowly tugging onto him. The longer he kept looking back into the abyss the more he was getting devoured by the creature inside out. Something crawled on his arms, on his legs, under his skin. He no longer felt the sensation of fighting somebody dangerous.

He’s lost, alone. He’s drowning in the dread as he realises that thing, whatever it is, is clutching onto his mouth and dragging him deeper. As if to turn him into an abomination of its own.

His shallow gasps are no longer enough. For the last time he tries to look behind, to look for the poor trace of remaining light, a place he could escape to. Alas, he found no sun shining in the horizon. Nothing to turn the dreadful curse into dust and ashes. To burn its very presence away until no proof of the thing’s existence remained.

The darkness of those two cursed eyes was gazing at him. Only then the nightmare left him be and the macaque finally took a deep breath in his finally achieved rest.

****

Wukong shot up on his bed. Slowly turning around while scanning his surroundings, he could bet the strange dream occurred only a few minutes ago just as he was slowly dozing off. Now, as he was sheepishly approaching the red window, the rays had already caressed the city’s splendid palette of roofs. The Great Sage was thankful though. The image of strange black eyes was starting to vanish. How he achieved such visions and whose empty stare it was, he had no idea. As far as his attempts to recall anyone with such unique features, the list was getting thinner and thinner till there was nobody left.

Shaking his head, he walked up to the large porcelain bowl painted in deep blue and red. Next to it, a water vessel was sitting, sounds of splashing water echoed in its long neck when the demon picked it up. Slowly pouring the cool water down his head, he occasionally massaged his sore temples. Veins on it were bulging and pumping the boiling blood. The scintillant droplets cascaded down on his naked chest, the drastic change of temperature made it quiver like leaves in the autumn.

Yet, he always felt as if that lingering stare was burning a hole into his brain. To avoid to this day an unfamiliar feeling of dread creeping around the corners of his mind, he directed his attention elsewhere.

He recalled another detail which still managed to unsettle him, though.

Márgerdra didn’t share the room with him last night. She did show up in the monk’s room for a brief talk about the dinner story but she soon vanished once again, never to return.

Where did the witch go after last night? Did she stay with the captain for the rest of the night? Did she like his company more than that of their group? What if something happened to her? Captain Jun was no obstacle for Wukong to fight off and the witch certainly possessed the same set of her amazing combat skills.

Yet there was nobody to have her back. The crane could’ve easily led her to a trap. Wukong was a fool to let her go that easily.

Then, something else crossed his mind. This time, a thought significantly more chilling. A thought well familiar to him. One he’d wanted to turn blind eye to since their reconciliation.

She betrayed them. She betrayed Mei, Shifu, Bajie, Ol’ Sha, Lie. She betrayed him. She made a pact, sold them away. Just to save her own hide…

“Nonsense.“ Wukong gritted his teeth and stomped off to the nearest armchair to sit down and tame the wild herd of his worrisome ideas. Having nobody to talk to, to unburden himself, he whispered the lament under his nose, his trembling hand ruffling the thick thatch of wet hair stuck to his forehead,“C’mon, she wouldn’t. Ever. She’s a friend. Blondie knows when to pull out from the danger. She’s not Yawen either. She might be a foreigner and look weird but… She’s not…evil. Right?“ The low rasp stuck in his throat, unable to come out and carry out any more words. All the simian could do at that moment was to look to the side and face the small bronze mirror left on the low table, the same piece of furniture which carried their hands during the writing lesson. Wukong clearly saw his imperfect reflection. The lips contorted like a wild python crawling across the jungle and the varying length of his face. Underneath, when he took a closer look, Wukong noticed what a pitiful sight he was.

After rubbing face with water and a piece of white cloth, which was lying nearby, the markings on his face were washed away. The lack of paint revealed the dark circles and dry skin under his eyes, no longer joyful, only tired. The words, sentences, feelings, it was all being washed away from the shore of his stranded self, leaving him with nothing. Although, the longer he sat in loneliness, the more taunting the vultures of loathing became. Slowly he began to remember how innocently Márgerdra acted in front of him. How vulnerable she was in privacy. Suddenly, the rage flooded him no matter how much he tried to keep himself in check. His pulse quickened, the stone heart was cracking and beating like a blacksmith’s heavy hammer against his ribcage. His clawed hands dug into the redwood of the armrests. Dozens of splinters stuck under his nails, sinking deeper and deeper into the meat. Red blood trickled down his pads, then down the carved wooden spiral and dripped on the stone floor, creating tiny red suns and stars across the matte grey. Their edges were as sharp as the tips of Wukong’s fangs which shone in the morning sunlight. The fur lining his chiselled chest and abdomen bristled. All of a sudden, Wukong’s right leg shot up and landed on the floor hard, the brisk motion helping the simian to quickly stand up from his seat.

He paced the length of the room. He was beyond being furious. Now, the simplicity of the only emotion nagging onto him kept him on the verge of breakdown.

Uncertainty.

When he thought he was about to lose his mind, the sliding door opened and a person entered.

Wukong fastly turned around in hopes of finding the woman. Although his wish was left unfulfilled, he was still overjoyed for the presence as it finally chased off the dreadful silence where not even the larks sang through.

Before Wukong managed to spat all of his questions, Bajie shot up his hands and informed,“She’s with Her Highness now. Both are sleeping. No need to worry, Big Bro.“

Wukong couldn’t contain himself anymore and snarled,“Why didn’t she then come here?!“

The monkey’s unpleasant manners worked up the former heavenly marshal. “Do I look like I know?! If you want to fight then go up to her and leave my poor hide alone!“ He then uttered,“Already behaving like a jerk from the morning, aye?“

“What did you say, Daizi?“ Wukong’s eyes narrowed until only two slits remained. “Perhaps I didn’t hear you right. Repeat it.“

“Look,“ Bajie rolled his eyes, not giving any attention to his hissing senior,“anything that's going on in your head is beyond my business. Not that I don’t care about ya. Not at all, Big Bro. Sometimes, though, you’re such a tough nut to crack and it’s not that I’m getting paid to ruin my nerves with your tantrums. The same goes for our pretty lady with golden locks. Now, it’d be for the better to calm down, alright? Remember what Shifu always tells us? Inhale, exhale. Again. Don’t let your emotions take over you.“

At first, the Sage unwillingly did as he was told to. Few seconds later, he was breathing in and out spontaneously with maximum ease. His tensed body relaxed. His lashes flickered like butterfly wings once he came back to reality.

Bajie, not waiting for any apology, had taken a seat in the meanwhile and began to feast with fruits presented in the bowl by the window.

The Monkey King leaned against one of the major pillars. He sighed. “What happened last night?“

Sweet bits stuck in Pigsy’s throat, scratching it badly. The middle disciple began to cough and choke and tear up so much Wukong had to tap him in between the shoulder blades. “C’mon. We had a deal, Middle Brother.“

Zhu Bajie hesitated. His gaze lingered on the doorway and briefly thought about the witch. In that very moment, regret spread inside his heart and reigned with an iron fist. Although he was aware of his promise, to upset either Wukong or Márgerdra was his last intention. Not because of fear. He simply didn’t want his close ones to suffer. He already saw enough of that in the witch’s hidden manners.

“Bajie, spit it out.“ Wukong’s hoarse voice pulled the pig out of his thoughts.

“Are you sure, brother?“

The Monkey King simply nodded, no emotion displayed on his face. But Bajie knew all too well how much it was boiling inside the old monkey.

“Promise me that you won’t say a thing to the witch. Now lean over a bit, Big Bro.“

****

Márgerdra’s lashes fluttered as she was waking up. Beside her, the young princess was still snuggling the witch. At first glance, the young girl seemed to be at peace. However, her hand was tightly clutching onto the blanket her advisor threw over her at night. Occasionally, her expression contorted, muscles waved, making her look upset or worried, though it was hardly because of a dream.

The Wolf Witch completely understood the Princess of the Great Tiger Kingdom. The Northerner didn’t feel much better. Indeed, she was glad that at least Mei was able to fall asleep and rest, even if it were only for a while.

Márgerdra cringed as she leaned over in order to peck the princess’ forehead when the younger woman let out a deep sigh. Fortunately, the attempt was successful.

The large blanket with a golden rooster pattern shuffled upon the witch’s struggles to get up from the bed. Her hand was pressing against her stomach while the puffing woman, all too pale for it to be normal, walked towards the green teapot.

The steamy fluffs lingered over the surface of the herbal tea. Its heady aroma spread around and it easily filled Márgerdra’s nostrils. The unmistakable earthy notes of cinnamon and fennel accompanied the slight tingling sensation the ginger caused in the witch’s eyes. Márgerdra wished to drink the liquid as soon as possible, alas, she growled when the somewhat sweet taste soon turned into iron-like as the tea burnt her tongue and cheeks. In her anger, she nearly threw the cup against the floor. Recalling the sleeping girl, she changed her mind at the last second.

Slowly sinking into the armchair, she rubbed her face, the swollen lids heavy from the sleepless night. Her tongue was sliding up and down her mouth and teeth as the Wolf Witch tried to keep herself from puking.

The exasperation slid under her skin, made its way deeper through the flesh and finally settled down around her innards, choking them.

How more useless could the protector get? She hated how much immobile the cramps and the fatigue made her.

The dismal mood didn’t have intentions of abandoning the woman. Even more, it seemed to have intensified because in her vain attempts to focus on the strong first impression, the last night with the captain left Márgerdra with a sour taste in her mouth. The more time had passed, the more rotten the image of the man, deprived from any greatness she once tricked herself into seeing, became. The worst of all, the demoness knew all too well this wasn’t about the captain only.

Her fragile fingers quivered like the few feathers of the caged finch as the despair, the loneliness which was lurking around the corner jumped and dragged Márgerdra into the blackest ooze of her dying self. She no longer fought. She was too tired from the pain twitching the muscles of her otherwise firm belly. She only closed her eyes and let herself be carried away, not knowing the young princess was slowly coming back to her senses.

****

The threads of the setting sun shone through the carved spirals on the shutters into the long corridor inundated by the dim light of the ceramic lamps which were displayed in circular alcoves carved into the cold rock like numerous tiny soldiers on the watch. Some of them were accompanied by small screens with an ivory support and portrayal of the noble peacocks with wide green eyes on their tails, pond herons with blue and white wings, grebes crowned with black and orange crests and lastly the always present proud black and white cranes dancing in the snowy country with their bright flaming red crowns tilted back, the birds seemed to reign over any other birds, the sky and the land in all the paintings and embroidery.

The soles of two pairs of feet softly landed one after another on the floor, neither of the visitors knowing they were secretly followed by a boar barely managing to balance on the roof above. Although Márgerdra had her suspicions after a roof tile slid down and broke into tens of miniature pieces. Fortunately, the presence of the guard captain was too alluring for her to go and investigate.

Initially, the Captain of the Royal Guard observed the foreign-looking woman sparsely. His confidence returned fast, though, and the man raised a question,“Do you enjoy your stay here so far?“

The right corner of the woman’s lip rose, something the captain had no chance of seeing as he was walking by her left,“Why wouldn’t I? The meal is delicious, we have a roof above our heads, we’re well protected thanks to you, captain.“

“You’re too generous, Miss Yaling.“

“I don’t think so, captain.“ The couple stopped what allowed the witch to face the dashing soldier. His jet-black hair, which was finally allowed to throw glints as the captain freed the strands from under his helmet, was tied up in a knot allowing the long contours of his noble face to be better observed by the she-wolf’s watchful gaze. Márgerdra felt like fish being thrown back into the water. She finally took hold of her cards and she was grasping onto them as if she were gripping on the reins of a horse brought to be tamed. “I’m being fairly honest with you. Or do you want to tell me you’re not much used to such good manners, perhaps?“

Her sultry voice made the crane demon chuckle. Before Jun could add anything, Márgerdra seized the opportunity,“Am I dreaming right now? Is that a smile I see on your face, captain? I thought you can’t do much apart from your stern expression. It looks like you’re full of surprises. My husband could learn from you at times with his difficult nature.“

The words made Jun laugh out loud, this time. “Miss Yaling, I could pass as a sort of an enemy of your husband. Yet you dare to make me an example for him to follow?“

“I might have married him,“ Márgerdra came up to him, making sure her natural scent highlighted by the flowery perfume was presented properly to the man in front of her, and whispered with a foxy smirk,“But I won’t pretend he’s flawless.“

“What a cruel woman you can be, so harsh on your own lover.“ Jun returned the favour and closed the moderate distance between them. Yet his mind had always stayed bewildered by the striking features of the beauty. “At least you’re not as cruel as somebody else I know. Though you both have a similar, let’s say, approach to conversation.“

“I know very well where you’re aiming, captain, and I’m not sure whether I should take this as an offence or not. I am no Miss Yawen.“

“Your words carry the weight of a threat but your eyes are still smiling and so I’m sorry but I just cannot take your warning seriously no matter how much I truly desire to do so.“

“What a long sentence. I’ve never witnessed anyone so well articulated. That makes me happy.“

“May I ask why?“ Jun slid his hands carefully around the blonde's thin waist. Her skin radiated under the blue silk, an experience so magnetic the crane couldn’t help but give it a small squeeze.

Muscles of Márgerdra’s right leg stiffened at the last second. Her whole limb felt as if it were on pins and needles. Like by magic, she fought off the urge to twist and bark. Though, taking control over the fist and not punching the man in the middle of his face proved to be so much more difficult. After all, Jud had zero of Wukong’s charm and friendliness. Only the surrounding circumstances and Márgerdra’s own stubbornness to achieve her goal saved Jun from carrying away a bloody nose.

“It means you’re going to be a delight to ask a few questions.“ The witch forced a chuckle and easily slipped from his grasp. In a moment, her long lean back presented itself to the captain, meanwhile she was marching towards the large open window with the view on the whole city and the wide hills and mountains behind.

It didn’t take long for Jun to take a seat on the windowsill next to her.

“Captain,“ the woman started coldly,“as I mentioned I’ll be honest with my intentions. The bandits were able to infiltrate not only past the city gates but even into the palace. Which means they must be well familiar with the infrastructure. This fact leads me to the inevitable question whether they are former residents. Or whether they have somebody to rely on inside. Although, there’s still the secret third option.“

“Which is?“

“Both, naturally. Do you have any idea? Before you get suspicious, let me clear some things up. My family is now directly involved in whatever this mess is. I want to know my enemy before I get to snap their neck for endangering my little sister.“

Jun became more relaxed in the presence of the enigmatic woman. He leaned back, his gaze lowered, focusing on the folds of the light fabric wrapping around her hips and thighs. “I can see how you charmed Huang. Very well. I decided to trust you. For now.“

The Wolf Witch cocked her eyebrow but kept smiling, even though these oddly familiar manners unnerved her more and more with each second passed.

Rolling her blue eyes and puckering red lips the blonde went on with her act of a seductress. However, inside, something poked at her. Both Jun and Wukong shared her husband’s confidence. However Jun also carried his raven black hair, his tall stature, his piercing gaze and sharp nose. Those bits and pieces of her lover were so much stronger here than in Wukong. Yet, she felt so much safer, so much alive and like herself in the presence of the monkey demon. Not around the soldier. Neither around Ereanth.

“You’re right. The bandits did originate from our citizens and even from our ranks. They might also get some help from someone around here.“

As her ears finally heard the news she hoped for, the witch relaxed, stretched her back and propped her head against her palm. “Good. Go on, captain. Who is the ‘help’?“

“I’m not so sure. You may want to ask your husband. I bet you two lead wonderful debates each night.“

“Is it Miss Yawen?“

“Might be,“ Jun scratched his beak-like nose since he did his best not to focus on the woman whose heaving bust was perfectly illuminated by the lamps and the weak distant sun. The orange flames created a perfect mix of the light’s warm tones on her creamy skin. “I wouldn’t be much surprised.“

“Why so?“

When Jun didn’t answer, Márgerdra inconspicuously added,“Is she related to the fiends in any way? Well, apart from being a snake herself. Literally and metaphorically.“ Even though she muttered the words, Jun clearly heard the venom in them and grinned broadly.

Was his gaze also this shallow? Márgerdra thought and she caught herself not actually wanting to know the answer. She wasn’t even certain who was the target of her question. All in all, the thought sent shivers down her spine. Something she hadn’t experienced in years. After all, until now, she’d revelled even in the most superficial attention given to her.

“Golden Wind Viper, the leader of the bandits, used to go under the name Jin and he was one of the highest ranking officials in our army. Yawen is his twin sister. Those two have been inseparable and you can imagine what sort of beasts they were and still are.“

“Yes, I can. The same way I can hear the hatred whenever you say her name. From my own experience, hatred and passion are two sides of the same coin. You and Miss Yawen were having an affair, weren’t you?“

The remark pulled Jun out of his trance. His knuckles turned white, his eyes widened meanwhile Jun’s full lips parted.

“My apologies, captain. This was highly inappropriate from me. Let’s change our topic, shall we? We started this evening as allies, friends even,“ the witch pushed herself closer until their knees touched and though she didn’t drop her alluring smile, she visibly softened her gaze which created the much needed effect. Her look was a brief one and she soon focused on the charming landscape beneath. She did let him stare a bit longer, however, while she adored the chirping of thrushes which were hopping on the rooftops but mainly in the treetops of pines like naughty children, a small protest against the setting sun. The murmur of the river played gently into the lullaby of the upcoming evening. Little by little, the Heavenly horses of the Jade Emperor were running back to the stables and as they did, the numerous clouds were getting dragged away by the immense herd. “I’ve never seen such beautiful nature. Not even back home. Or while on the journey with Wei. Truly, this is a jaded treasure one shouldn’t touch and harm.“

Captain Jun cleared his throat,“Precisely, Miss Yawen. That’s the reason why our dynasty settled down in these vast lands.“

“Has it been a long time since then?“ Márgerdra didn’t look at him yet she sensed the growing tension and added,“I don’t see the city much expanded beyond the walls and so I’d like to congratulate you on keeping the mountain mostly untouched with all the citizens around.“

The argument worked with the captain and a proud smile settled on his lips. “Her Majesty came to these lands a long time ago. She was fed up with the hypocrisy of the world and desired to create a place for us, demons, to live in and to cultivate ourselves.“

“How? By eating people?“ Márgerdra snorted, bitterly amused by the story she heard so many times before. It was a lie she herself used to claim many centuries ago. “By stealing one’s life essence in a blink of an eye? Because this sounds like an excuse to become a power-hungry tyrant yourself. No offence, of course.“

“You have a sharp tongue, Miss Yaling. I must admit I like that in a woman. But be careful, you’re speaking with the Captain of the Royal Guard.“

“And you’re speaking with…“ In the heat of the moment, the blonde’s tongue nearly slipped as she was prepared to announce her title. She quickly had to change her reply. “My apologies, captain. It’s just…“ Searching for the right words, Márgerdra decided to discreetly admit her deepest fear. Sighing, she hung her head low to watch over her nails and palms and muttered,“Please, don’t take any offence in my words as my rage wasn’t directed at you. Simply put, you remind me of somebody I used to know. It was most inappropriate to drag you into matters you know nothing about. I offer you my deepest apologies for that, captain.“

Márgerdra shot up her head, her expression stern, ridden from any deeper emotions. Yet, her words were truthful, spoken with vigour and honesty, the captain had no reason for doubt.

This time, it was Jun who snorted. Not from amusement, though. His eyes glistened like lightning striking from the indigo sky.

“You are truly strange,“ he directed his gaze into the unknown distance of the mountain range while simultaneously resting his chin on the formed fist,“my aunt is going to have a wonderful celebration with you around.“

Fortunately, this remark led Márgerdra to a newly formed plan. She wanted to know more about the water source she discovered in the chambers. Now was the perfect time. “Yes, the celebration. I wonder what the feast is going to be like.“

“Wonderful just as always. Though, it might be ameliorated this year.“

The spark in her sultry voice was brought to life once again,“How so, captain? Do you prepare, let’s say, a special present for Her Majesty?“

“To be honest, she’s preparing it for herself.“

“Are you not going to tell me?“ Although the captain’s wild eyes flared up with dangerous flames, Márgerdra’s daring nature couldn’t be scared away and the woman continued with an absolute ease. “Captain Jun, I hope you do realise I’ve been telling you things I wouldn’t announce to many people and that I’ve declared I have no intentions of betraying your trust. After all, I’m all but at your mercy right now. Don’t think I’m naive. I know your hand on the hilt of your sword isn’t twitching for no reason. I also know you’ve noticed the whip dangling under my robes and that I pose a threat to you.“ The man clenched his jaw once Márgerdra motioned towards his right hand seemingly casually resting on the pommel adorned with jades and emeralds of the curved sword. “It would be utterly foolish to try and assure you with words only that I became warier over the course of the past few days. I’m not afraid to pay the highest price in case you truly obtain the impression I might be a spy or even worse, a danger to your loved ones. I can be a woman of many lies and deceit. Yet, strangely, or rather ironically, the honour isn’t a foreign word for me. We have a common enemy and a common goal - to keep our families safe. So if you think I’m lying to you and have ulterior motives, don’t hesitate,“ the long sleeve rolled up and the demoness stretched her right arm on the table next to them,“unsheathe your weapon and strike.“

Despite how quickly the foreigner saw through the soldier’s intentions and worries, Jun remained equally composed,“Do you recognise the weight of your words, Miss Yaling?“

“I do. So should you, Captain Jun.“

Bajie, who until now had been silently cursing under his breath while trying to find the safest position on the roof, went completely pale. He brought his large palm closer to his ear. The old wood of his diminished rake scraped his shaking finger.

Jun paused. Eyeing the woman for a moment longer and replaying her invitation over and over again, he came to the final conclusion.

In a blink of an eye, the Captain of the Royal Guard unsheathed the shiny blade and brought it down upon the woman’s bare arm.

Bajie’s heart missed a beat. His eyes watered, his mouth agape yet no grunt or a yell escaped from the horrified boar. He was too far away. All he could do was to watch the witch’s arm being chopped off. He saw the bloodied limb falling to the floor. He saw the mutilated woman scream in pain and cry for help, for the unbearable pain to stop only for the soldier to cut off her head, as well.

At least that was the scene his mind pictured in that sole moment of pure dread. Because the reality made him shiver, nearly shed a tear, from true happiness, although he still cursed himself for not choosing a wiser spot or a hideout.

The blade stayed lingering right above the elbow. The soldier offered the witch a smug smile when he saw that not only she didn’t budge, Márgerdra never stopped piercing him with her icy gaze either. Neither did her breathing become irregular.

For a long while, they remained in their places, unmoving like the aeons old two mountains of the universe.

Slowly sliding his sword back into the red-gold scabbard with a flaming blue feather emblem, captain Jun returned to his seat visibly well amused,“You’re truly something, Miss Yaling. Your courage matches your beauty. Since you managed to convince me I will share some information under one condition.“

Márgerdra crossed her legs. “If it’s related to me keeping my tongue behind my teeth, so be it. That won’t pose a problem to me.“

“That’s not the case.“

The witch cocked her fair eyebrow and pouted her cherry lips. The root of her nose wrinkled slightly but the Lady Wolf Witch did nothing else.

“I suspect your husband must truly adore you. How couldn’t he? Nobody could ever reach your beauty, not even the Lady of the Moon herself. I wonder what you really are. What sort of treasures and flowers you hide under all those garments. What your sweetest fruit tastes like.“

The blonde laughed out loud while her fingertips caressed the bare collarbone. Her provocative eyes glinted in the approaching darkness. She loved every bit of his attempt to chase her. “Men are truly simple creatures! Never ever in my life I’ve heard somebody say something so lewd yet so poetic. Captain, you’re lucky you’re this handsome and you know your way around the words.“

“Is it a ‘yes’, then?“

Bajie stiffened. He was utterly appalled by the soldier’s courage and even more, the witch’s pleased behaviour and playfulness, though the pig demon had been a witness to her foxy manners before.

“What do you think when you see a woman smile in the light of the rising moon?“ She drew closer and waited for the captain’s own response. It didn’t take long for his right arm to envelop her hip.

The crane demon leaned over to whisper in her ear. His fingertips delightfully brushed against Márgerdra’s ear lobe and his breath tickled the side of her neck.

His voice was low, slightly nasal, inaudible for the most part for Pigsy. However Márgerdra heard every single word he aimed at her. The edge hidden in the plain sight of his faint smile also didn’t escape her notice. “My aunt used to be one of the Immortal Cranes on Mount Kunlun. She served the Immortals whenever they came. However she disliked some of their decisions and didn’t appreciate that some of the cranes and dragons weren’t rewarded enough for hard work. You see, we used to carry Immortals, we were their messengers, rides, servants and even protectors if needed. Yet our efforts to cultivate ourselves were never enough. My aunt decided to leave the place and come down to lower regions where she could continue without the Immortals. However, she was considered to be one of the most reliable and capable cranes there. They didn’t want her to leave for she’d even taken an oath. In the end, it led to a rebellion.“

“You keep saying ‘we’. Were you also there?“

“Yes.“ Jun grew more melancholic with each word. “My parents, my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, grandparents. I was only a freshly hatched colt. My aunt was the only one to survive and we both shall never forget that ‘punishment’ of Immortals, the old bastards backed up by the Jade Emperor.“ His spat landed on the floor in front of them. “I hope he’ll get what’s coming for him.“

The conscience was biting onto Márgerdra. She was well familiar with the captain’s pain and sorrow. “Captain, please, accept my condolences.“

For a while, they kept on being silent as two mice. Jun couldn’t help but bitterly sigh upon the memories flooding in. “Good thing the Kinbutcher wrecked the Heavens back in the day before he turned his back on the rest of us.“

The name, which Jun barked out, rang a bell, however Márgerdra couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “I’m sorry. Who?“

“The Kinbutcher,“ another spit flew through the air,“Sun Wukong. One of the mightiest demons in existence. The bastard who cultivated himself until he got strong enough. When the Jade Emperor thought he was too much of a threat he decided to listen to his rats and tame the Monkey King…“

“I know this story, captain. Don’t think I’m that unfamiliar with the local legends,“ Márgerdra rolled her eyes,“I only haven’t heard that nickname. Did I miss something?“

The soldier chuckled, his fingers curled until they reminded of talons. “Sun Wukong turned on us the day the young monk freed him from Buddha’s imprisonment. Since then he's been murdering his fellow demons on sight. One by one.“ His teeth clicked next to Márgerdra's ear. “Hence the nickname. He’s just a puppet now. Both he and the Tang monk be damned. If only we got them as soon as possible. To hear that wretched macaque cry over his ticket to freedom being eaten alive by us is going to be music to my ears. Just the fact he shall finally understand how much he screwed over himself and how far he’s fallen from grace while we ascend thanks to the knowledge and immortality gained from the Golden Cicada’s tender meat…“

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. The pieces of the complicated puzzle started coming together. The witch understood most of his outrage. The betrayal, the sorrow, the hatred and loneliness were old friends to her. But she could not shake off the feeling of dread when she thought of all the spilled blood.

Sanzang had been kind and she could not think of a single day she wished any harm to him. The young man didn’t pretend to be generous. Simply, his soul was indeed a blessing to anyone he spoke to. His disciples were no different despite their flaws. Inside, all the Pilgrims possessed courageous hearts. Just like her little plum Mei. The idea that Jun would go after them in his bloodlust and blind hatred crushed Márgerdra’s soul.

To think she once thought similarly and not only herself but also the one once so dear to her cold wolf heart…

“Captain, your story is a heartbreaking one. I’m sorry to hear about such a tragedy…“ The woman attempted to change the topic despite the fact she was trapped between disliking the captain because of his family’s future plans and feeling sorry for the crane demon.

“That is alright, Miss Yaling. It’s been a long time. Though the Dynasty of the Azure Crane doesn’t forget that easily. We will have our revenge. We just need to wait a little bit longer. You see, the little crane baby wasn’t the only thing my aunty managed to take in all that haste.“

“If so, what was that other ‘thing’?“

“Two seeds of two precious trees. Once was supposed to be a present, a symbol of divine nobility, for the Jade Emperor and Xiwangmu. The other one’s a fig tree which can give up to twenty immortality fruits. Now, the trees are highly guarded in the upper gardens and the palace residents aren’t allowed to freely speak of them. Even Miss Yawen hasn’t been told the whole truth about them, only miserable bits, though the harlot thinks otherwise.“

The shared secrets widened Márgerdra’s eyes. She was finally back on the track and she wasn’t going to let go of her lead, not even in a dream.

She kept her tone gentle like a morning fog, a perfect veil for her real intentions. “Then why are you telling me your secrets? I know I’ve caught your attention. But even the Tang Emperor’s concubines cannot feel safe with him. Is it that you can easily snap my neck if I betray you?“

“Precisely.“ Perhaps for the first time, Jun’s smile froze, he slowly blinked as if to drive away the gloomy thoughts. However, he continued to caress the woman’s cheek with all tenderness. Soon he came back and his sweet whisper went on,“Did I say I’ve never seen anyone with such marvellous eyes like yours? So pretty in colour. Those two splendid shades, my darling. I can’t decide whether I desire the amazing waves to wash over my body in your left eye or to fly high up in the clear sky of your right eye. Your lips, they seem like the sweetest lychee in the world. You can’t imagine how much I desire to explore their divine taste…“

The Wolf Witch grinned. Despite she’d heard such flattery before she couldn’t exactly deny the crane demon didn’t manage to stroke her ego. “Is that so, sir?“

Jun nodded while giving out a silent sigh.

“In that case go on,“ while speaking, Márgerdra brushed her lips against his. At the last second, when the captain was prepared to deepen the fleeting touch, she pulled away, her palm pressing into his tunic interlaced with gold threads, a pleasant change for his usual armour,“but you better hold onto your part of the deal, Captain Jun. Don’t you forget, I’m doing you a favour. I’m still a married woman and my husband’s waiting for me. What’s the real deal about the fig tree?“

“Very well,“ Jun finally pulled away, too, though the eagerness in his glistening eyes remained. “There are twenty fruits in total growing on it. When the right time comes, one can eat them. The fig shall give you additional strength, it shall also grant you immortality. You won’t ever need to worry about old age catching up to you, marking your youth with terrible scars. Instead, your body shall become lighter, eternal, its marvellous beauty preserved forever.“ Jun leaned over and deeply inhaled Márgerdra’s smell. Simultaneously, his hand slipped around her waist again, warming the skin under the woman’s brocade skirt studded with carmine peonies and pink magnolia flowers.

“Immortality?“ The witch snorted. Like a wasp trying to get into the beehive, she was searching for another way to unravel the knot. To make sure her plan would work, her hands once again started rubbing his steel-like shoulders. “Is this vanity all such a treasure holds or are you hiding more from me, dashing Captain Jun?“

The strategy seemed to have worked out.

The captain broadly grinned. His head tilted backwards as if the demon was thriving in the intimate attention. The delight intensified in both when the foreigner started stroking his muscled chest. At first, Márgerdra adored his desperate response to her touch as the captain, equally eager, grasped onto her firm thigh. His thumb massaged the side of it, making slow circles around, something her Ereanth used to do. However, Márgerdra was now seeing the other side of the guard captain. No. Of her former husband. The memories flushed her all at once. She recalled the side she was always turning blind eye to. Something she willingly buried in the back of her mind simply because of her inner desire to achieve peace. To settle down. To start a family. “Who knows, my beauty. Maybe, it’s like you said. It should be added that the fruit can even heal the most fatal wounds, bringing the seemingly dead back to the world of the living. To say the least, it’s quite a win if you get your grasp on it. Unless you eat the unripe fruit. Not only it shall crumble in between your fingers, its ash is poisonous and kills anyone holding it.“

“That, my wonderful darling sir, I can trust you on. But tell me one more thing before our time’s up.“ Getting more nervous about the realisation kicking in again, this time stronger than ever before, she straightened up and drew her neck away from the man’s lips.

“Anything for you.“ Though the words belonged to the captain, all the witch saw was a green-eyed man from her past.

“The trees of the Immortals must be great possessions. How do you supply them, then? I suspect you must be using another source than the river running through the city…“

It wasn’t the annoyance the she-wolf saw there but rather lightning of fury and suspicion. His reply was evenly sharp though Márgerdra clearly heard his effort to stay civil with her. Whether it was out of politeness or out of respect, the witch had no idea. “Yes, there’s a great lake behind the mountain. It’s located on a vast rocky platform with a strong stream. We don’t need to ever fear for it or the lake to run out dry. Thanks to it…“

“...the two halves of the city, the palace and the gardens are equally supplied with enough fresh water with the river being a nice back-up,“ the witch finished the sentence, leaving the captain with wrinkled eyebrows and pursed lips. “If there’s a platform like that right behind the palace, aren’t you afraid of Golden Wind Viper’s attack from there?“

The captain let out a bark of laughter,“The fiend would never dare to cross such a high peak even though he could easily infiltrate Her Majesty’s palace this way. A beast is guarding and tending the stream as it deems the water as its rightful home. The creature is dangerous. Occasionally we can hear its roar every full moon when it comes to scout the surroundings.“

“Aren’t you afraid of it, dashing sir?“

“You said it yourself. I’m a dashing soldier. The fear is the ultimate unknown for me. Her Majesty made a pact with it anyway. We feed it and give it offerings and the beast lets us use the water. You know what they say. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.“

“I see.“ Márgerdra let Jun plant a few kisses on her jaw and neck while she squinted, a sign of a pursuit for another question. When he leaned in to steal a kiss of her own lips, she stopped him once again.

“You’re never going to let me claim my reward, are you?“

“I am, dashing sir. But you woke the curiosity within. What does the beast look like?“

“I don’t know, I’ve only seen it from a distance. It’s probably a distant relative of the Dragon King. Now face me, my beauty, and let us enjoy the last touch of our deal.“

Although the soldier’s desire was undeniable, the Wolf Witch, like a sly fox, tried her luck for the last time,“Do you think you could sneak past it?“

“Of course. Aunty said that the beast recognizes her and me by our scents. She says she introduced me to the stream guardian when I was but a little chick. Since then, quite a long time has passed, a few centuries. But the beast still remembers who saved it from the rock crushing its foot.“

The two looked each other in the eye. Márgerdra was now sure. Ereanth’s stare has turned shallow, vain. The one she preserved a false image of. A made up memory of a person she idealised to fulfil her desperate dreams.

No! This was Jun. Somebody completely else. Somebody whom she didn’t fail. Somebody who didn’t fail her. No, no. Ereanth would never fail her or anybody else. He was a courageous hero. A great husband. It was all her fault they were no more. She didn’t meet the expectations. She betrayed her love.

Jun’s looking at her, his expression soft. On his pale forehead, coal-black brows faintly raised, his lips parted.

Márgerdra focused on that. This was the reality. Jun was real. He was the one with her now.

Márgerdra closed her eyes as she leaned into the kiss and soon she deepened the union. Jun gladly took his chance. He moaned, enjoyed the feel of her tongue pressing against his, her leg hooked around his hip as Jun’s fingers dug into the flesh.

Márgerdra wished to cherish the moment as she’d dreamed since she had first laid eyes on the handsome soldier. But now, she was clutching her eyes just to avoid the disappointing reality, the state of her sorrowful circumstances she landed herself into. She had no idea that Pigsy, the one who now knew what not to mention to his senior brother, was a witness to her silent lament.

In her soul, the woman gritted her teeth. Yet her restless mind always brings her to her husband.

The flower of anguish bloomed inside her heart. Its iron petals stabbed her, cut her, made her bleed like never before. The green-eyed man was looking at her, though his gaze was as hollow as a trunk of a rotting tree. His touch slid past every part of her body and yet he remained so distant as if he wished not to be with her, not to claim the happiness of their wedding night, such intimacy where they finally promise one to another. Then again, he did protect her when needed. He was always there when she was upset or unsure. He even tried to find solutions to many of her problems. Although was there any inner fire beside the friendliness? Was he listening to Márgerdra? Or was he only hearing the witch out? He was an ally, a friend. But was he ever more? A close friend? Though she did care about him, had he been ever something more to her? Had she been more to him?

Did they, in the times of despair, loneliness and hatred, confuse their feelings, tricking themselves into something that could never be?

The cruel truth she knew long ago but refused to admit was deadening. Settling down, it crushed her like thousands of stones which crumbled down the steep slope on the day Wukong saved her.

If only the Sage hadn’t caught her on time. She wished that at least one of the stones had hit her head on that day and for her limp body to be swallowed by the mass of rocks never to be taken out from under the pile just for it to become the next meal for vermin.

A grave without the title, a single name with no surname. A girl that never came to grow up and stand up for her beloved big sister, their gentle master who they deemed a father, her little…

Driving away the anger, the hatred, the sorrow, the regret, she somehow convinced herself to give into the pleasure. That was until she felt something long stroking her nape dangerously close to her golden mane. Before Jun’s hand reached her hair fully, the Wolf Witch broke the kiss, the act which left the breathless crane not only speechless, but his brows furrowed with deep wrinkles by the root of his nose too.

The lamps in the long empty hallway went out. The cold wind rose and claimed even the tiniest flame there.

“Miss Yaling,“ Jun stretched out to tenderly touch the blonde woman who was now looking past his shoulder into the nothingness like the most wonderful statue devoid of any life,“is everything alright? Did I overstep the boundaries?“

He gave her knee a little shake when she kept on being silent. “Miss Yaling, please, say something.“

“No, this isn’t your fault. It’s just that our deal was about a kiss, wasn’t it, Captain of the Guard?“ Her voice was monotonous, yet it carried the unmistakable hint of steel authority.

Watching her stand up all of a sudden, Jun stuttered, confused by her actions,“Yes, it was. Miss, if I truly offended you, please, know that was not my intention.“

“I do trust you, soldier,“ Márgerdra straightened her light blue gown. She walked up to the sitting man. Her hand cupped his cheek and the woman gently brushed his lips with her thumb. The fingertip carefully wiped off the red lipstick from Jun. Without hesitation, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the tempting moment of their last intimate touches. “There you go,“ she whispered and tenderly slid the back of her palm down Jun’s cheek,“make sure to be properly cleaned before you meet Her Majesty.“

“Or Yawen, I’d like to add. She can be quite possessive and get jealous no matter how much the person wants to distance themselves from her.“

“If you say so.“ The waves of blue, red, gold and pink fabric swished through the air and the soldier now saw only Márgerdra’s back. The long skirt like a long veil dragged behind her.

Quickly grasping onto his senses, he shouted not caring if anyone would hear him,“Is this the last time we saw each other?“

The woman replied immediately,“In this manner? Of course. I’ve told you. I’m married. This was just a business. Though it was truly a pleasure to meet you, Captain Jun.“

“Don’t you wish for a divorce? I could give you a better life.“

Márgerdra stopped in her tracks. Deeply inhaling, her eyes darted, her lips quivered. If only you knew I already am…

“I already have a better life. Farewell, captain. I hope to see you soon under other circumstances.“

She quickly marched away. After turning around a few corners, she started arching over. She felt her knees had become wobbly, weak. Soon, she had to grasp on her abdomen.

****

The blonde witch shuffled across the hallway. The blush on her cheeks didn’t leave her. It was a miracle she convinced the princess she was alright and that her sour mood was caused solely by menstruation. The princess, a kind and innocent soul indeed, even offered her another sandbag so the witch wouldn’t fear the one she had received wasn’t enough.

‘Don’t worry, Márgerdra. I still have three left. So if you’re gonna need one more, just say.’ No matter how miserable they were, Mei’s cheerful voice always encouraged the witch. In her thoughts, the Northerner thanked the Heavens she had the luck of meeting the young heiress.

Finally, she was in front of the door to her room. Márgerdra sighed in relief that she could change into not only different clothes but also to change the sandbag she was currently using as the item was completely soaked from her blood.

With a faint hope that the room was empty and waiting just for her, she slid the door open.

The little bit of the happiness from the brief morning interaction with the princess vanished into thin air.

“Brother, no matter how much you’re going to insist that I’m hiding something, you’re never going to be right. I told ya everything. It was merely a brief conversation which ended with the talk about the beast-“

The witch’s sudden appearance in the room cut off Bajie in the middle of his sentence.

Márgerdra gathered the last of her strength and straightened up to show off her full height. She didn’t need to say a word, Pigsy understood everything that was written on her face. Simply wishing a good morning, he used his chance and ran out from the room, leaving the reserved Wolf Witch and the furious Monkey King alone.

She didn’t need to guess twice what his first words would be.

“Where were you?!“

“Chasing the heavenly horses of the Jade Emperor, what did you think?“

“Very funny.“

“Just as funny as you sending Bajie to spy on me.“ Sighing, she took the jug of water and drank from it, not caring whether it looked disgusting or impolite.

“So?“ the monkey folded his arms and began pacing around the room,“You’re giving me a headache, woman. Next time I’m tying a little bell ‘round your neck.“

“Careful with your words, Wukong. That attitude may backfire soon,“ still catching her breath from taking such a sip, Márgerdra nonchalantly wiped her mouth with the narrow-cuffed sleeve, “Now, excuse me. I need to change.“

She stepped out but the Great Sage soon blocked her as he stood right into the middle of her way. “Move away.“

“I’m not your lap dog. Neither am I a circus monkey. Don’t think I’m gonna dance as you whistle no matter how sour your mood is.“ Wukong furrowed his brows even more when the witch paused and observed him in complete silence.

The sunrays were sliding down his cheeks and only now Márgerdra realised why his face looked strange this morning. She snorted through the pain. She had to avert the attention somehow and this was a perfect chance to do so. “Yes, now I see why you’re so unpleasant. You must be missing your eyeliner, don’t you?“

Wukong pouted but didn’t let himself throw out of balance. He offered her an equally mocking reaction,“Yeah, you could use some for those swollen lids, too. I thought Ox-Head came from Hell to say a little hi to me when you walked in.“

It seemed to have worked on the already irritated demoness. She seized the few clothes that were thrown over the armchair, her red nails digging so deep into the fine fabric they nearly tore the skirt and trousers, and marched behind the folding screen in the far corner of the wide bedroom. While passing Wukong, the Wolf Witch didn't forget to growl at him to which the monkey demon only offered a provocative grin. Once she was out of sight, however, his frown was immediately back.

Sliding down the armchair and scratching under his chin, a peculiar iron smell reached his nostrils, however he paid it no attention. The simian barked,“So, are you gonna tell me, blondie?“

All he was met with was a dull silence.

When Wukong was about to smash the armrests with his palms to stand up, Márgerdra muttered under her nose as she hung her blue skirt over the upper edge of the screen,“Jun made me think of something. Let’s say the evening didn’t go as smoothly as I had planned. Though I dug out some information from him.“

The Sage chewed onto nothing. In his mind, scenes of various inappropriate images played over and over and made his skin crawl.“Blondie, I do know you’re a tough one,“ he motioned to his left eye, although the witch couldn’t see a thing,“I know from experience you’re a really good fighter. But I… Did he..y’know…“ The monkey demon had to grit his teeth before finishing what disturbed him the most,“...touch you?“

“Excuse me? Don’t be ridiculous, Wukong,“ she retorted and kept trying to scratch away the dried blood from her skin in the quickest manner possible. Her hand rubbed the rag up and down. She didn’t stop scuffing the skin even when the irritated place turned red and started itching and burning.

“Look, I get this is none of my business but…“

Fed up with the cloth being already soaked with the fluid and new trickles running down her thighs, she raised her voice,“Then why do you keep asking?“

It wasn’t the question which took Wukong back but rather the firmness within. No matter how much Márgerdra pretended to be alright, how much she tried to hide behind the screen or covered her face, the fragile shake under the surface couldn’t possibly escape Wukong’s sharp ears. “I care about you. Can I not know my dearest friend’s struggles and to help you out? It hurts much less when two share it.“

He saw how her shadow, which fell on the bright yellow paper, froze for a brief moment.

Immediately, though, the black silhouette quickly put on a long robe and tied a sash around the waist as the Wolf Witch came back to senses. “This isn’t what I expected of you.“

“What?!“

“Not in a bad way… Sorry, I don’t know what I exactly mean by that myself.“

The monkey lowered his gaze. Suddenly, the painful lump in his throat was easily swallowed with no traces of strange anxiousness left behind. Still, it wasn’t enough for him. “Would you like to talk about it?“

Though they were rather stereotypical, Márgerdra caught that strange friendly warmth radiating from the disciple again who wasn’t even that near to her. The need to hug him and to be hugged back was building up. It was a strange yet pleasant thought which left her tongue wordless.

The Wolf Witch wasn’t the only one who was slowly being driven crazy by the stillness of the moment.

The Monkey King rubbed his hands together. Although it wasn’t the flames of rage burning him like usually. Now, he felt the unfamiliar feeling of uncertainty made him to be of two minds. Thinking he should have chosen a better approach, he tried to calm down by taking deep breaths and massaging his left palm.

Fortunately, she did give him the answer,“No, not now… But thank you. I just…“

“Yes?“

“No, it’s nothing,“ the woman changed her mind at the last second. “Can I bother you with something else, though?“

“Blondie, you bother me with many things, just not with your well-being,“ Wukong uttered while he nonchalantly crossed his arms,“What do you need?“

“Mei had tea prepared for us early in the morning. Please, go and tell the servants to prepare the same mixture again.“

“What mixture?“

“They shall know. Don’t worry about that.“

“Hey, Missy Prissy, stop this nonsense and tell me directly what you need. My patience is running thin. By the way, what’s taking you so long behind that screen today-“ The monkey fell silent in a heartbeat. The smell from before, the one which was coming from the witch’s direction, rose up his nostrils again. His eyes widened, though his curiosity took over him and the simian peeked behind the screen.

The bitter taste of his stomach’s content made its way to his mouth.

But he managed to hold himself back when he caught Márgerdra changing the dirty sandbag for a new one. Her weak and shaking hand tossed the old one into the bowl with water. Though she tried to be careful, a few red drops spilled onto the floor. She cursed under her breath even more when she noticed the hairy head of the monkey demon peeking at her.

“What are you doing, you moron?! Don’t you hate looking at ladies?“

“I do! Just thought you were injured or something!“ He yelled back, never hiding his twitching eye and mouth twisting in disgust.

“You’re going to get injured soon if-“ The witch pulled the long purple robe even tighter to her body and remade the strong knot around her waist so as not to show a single bit of her naked skin. Angry and tired beyond belief, she was prepared to scorch Wukong with a lightning bolt from her palm. However, the simian took her by surprise again.

Straightforward as always, he simply shook his head.

Cocking his eyebrow, he motioned with his chin forward and awaited her silent approval to get closer. Strangely enough, not one of them uttered anything and yet, they perfectly understood their companion.

Márgerdra nodded back. Only then he carefully shuffled towards her. Slowly, he knelt down. The witch gently lifted the hanging brocade. Her right leg showed itself to the Sage to be inspected by the disciple.

Wukong’s fingertips slid down the front of her thigh. Her skin was warm, perhaps even warmer than the sun outside. Under his touch, her muscles flexed and it was only now that Wukong realised how strong her legs actually were and that her kicks could truly become lethal. Upon Márgerdra’s sharp inhale, the monkey demon took a piece of fabric, soaked it in water and began to wash the demoness’ skin.

The Wolf Witch could no longer hide how much his actions astonished her. Wukong, a hot-headed brute at first sight with a seemingly unending amount of sarcastic remarks, was now so tender and discreet, never casting a single look under the robe. Instead, he gathered all his patience, even held back his slight disgust. Márgerdra’s lips and swollen eyelids quivered. During the demon’s first touches she was clutching onto her collar. Now, her hands relaxed and rested by the length of her body. Even more, after a slight hesitation she decided to rest them on the disciple’s shoulders.

The Monkey King didn’t mind the gesture. Quite the opposite, a faint smile played on his lips.

“Fennel and ginger?“ he raised a quiet question as he continued in his slight massage downward towards the she-wolf’s foot and then focused his attention on her left leg.

“How did you know?“

“Blondie, I’m not at all oblivious to the basics of medicine,“ the Sage playfully winked at her. “Though, would you like to try a different sort of tea? If the fennel didn’t help much you could try the ginseng.“

The blonde crossed her arms. “Wukong, you’re on thin ice right now. I might be seven centuries old. But I’m not that old.“

“Blondie,“ he chuckled,“it’s not used just for the menopause. I’ve been told it has a similar effect as fennel. You could give it a chance. If you want I can order some for Her Highness, too.“

“That…would be delightful of you. Thanks.“

Once again, they fell into silence. The Wolf Witch felt like falling asleep under the numerous gentle rubs. At least for a short while, she was able not to feel any pain in her abdomen, a wonderful feeling she wanted to last much longer.

“I guess you can’t join me in training for the tournament today.“

“I fear so too, dear friend. But tomorrow-“

“You shouldn’t force yourself. You better rest now,“ Wukong stood up, washed the cloth for the last time and helped his comrade to the bed. “I’ll bring the tea and you can tell me what your little research from last night brought. I can familiarise you with my own investigation. Deal?“

“Deal,“ Márgerdra slithered her fingers into his palm. “But bring venerable Master and boys, too. And Mei but that goes without further saying, I suppose,“ she added with a weak smile growing on her face, her cheeks appearing much healthier than before.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,“ the Great Sage joined her in the light giggle. “I wouldn’t dare to leave them out.“

The moment he seemed to stand up, the Wolf Witch squeezed the hairy hand. Wukong looked back at her, a clear worry behind the stern expression.

“Jun called you a…name yesterday.“

He offered a flippant grin. “Many call my old hide various names.“

“This one was different, though. He called you…what was the title…a ‘Kinbutcher’.“

The imp as well as his daring smile froze. The sudden silence flooded the vast space, not evening the birds outside dared to chirp or tweet. The time seemed to have stopped. The stare he offered, a deep void consuming everything in sight, was long as if it had no end.

The witch held her breath. She opened her mouth to break off the uncomfortable moment. Soon, she closed it back as barely any sound escaped from the dry throat.

Finally, the monkey demon moved. He licked his thin lips and rubbed his face meanwhile he walked up to the bowl with dirty water.

“Wukong…“ The hurt in the demoness’ voice was unmistakable.

“It’s not your fault.“ Sun Wukong marched out of the room. His demeanour became a perfect contrast, both freezing and boiling hot. Before shutting the sliding door behind himself, he uttered one last phrase not realising the woman had equally excellent hearing. “Just mine.“

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added): @vanessaroades-author @rubywrite @aohendo @rbbess110 @jgmartin @outpost51

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List of chapters:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Epilogue

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andallthatmishigas · 1 year

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When I have a bad day, I don’t like to admit defeat. I will always find a way to create something. So here we go.

@blossom--of--snow

@whatsabriard

Jonathan grinned so much he thought his face might split. Nothing in the world made him happier than surprising Jennifer with something she adored. And he knew this was a big gift.

“I can’t believe it!” Jennifer exclaimed, squealing in delight. She had dropped to the ground, getting on her hands and knees to meet the tiny ball of fluff that Max had on the leash. “He looks just like Freeway when we first found him!”

“That’s because it is Freeway,” Jonathan said, excited to reveal the surprise.

Jennifer whipped her head around to him. “What!?”

“You know all those vet appointments I took him to a few months ago?”

She nodded, remembering. “For his arthritis.”

Jonathan shook his head. “For his dates. Dr. Marshall had a female, so Freeway got a chance to breed. And they had puppies four weeks ago. This little guy was reserved just for us.”

This last year or so had been tough on all of them. Freeway was getting on in years and it was definitely showing. He’d slowed down and didn’t have the same kind of pep. Jennifer and Jonathan and Max had done all they could to keep him happy and comfortable, but it was only a matter of time and they all knew it. Jonathan jumped at the opportunity to have a bit of their baby—and really, Freeway was their baby—live on with them.

“Freeway Junior,” Jennifer said all of a sudden.

“What?” Max and Jonathan asked in unison.

Jennifer scooped the puppy into her arms and stood up. He was already snuggling against her as she kissed his sweet little fluffy head. She up at looked at Jonathan and repeated, “Freeway Junior. That’s his name.”

Jonathan found himself grinning again. “So it is. Freeway Junior. And I think we ought to introduce the proud papa.”

He knew the pair might not have too long together, but it was important for all of them, and Jennifer especially, to have a way to ease the inevitable agony of losing Freeway. She had another baby to dote on now. Max would have a new little buddy. And Jonathan would have the peace and contentment of knowing that the two people he loved most would be happy. And, well, he already loved that puppy, too.

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rhysles · 1 year

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☆ CHRISTMAS 2022 ― gifts from rhys.

☆ DYLAN DUNSMORE. ( @dylandunsmore )

for dylan, rhys seized the opportunity back in october when he’d spent a few nights over at her place to kidnap her favorite stuffed frog plush, taking it with him so he could send it away to have it very carefully and lovingly cleaned and refurbished. he’s returned to his rightful home in a gift bag, nestled between homemade beeswax candles in mason jars ( a side endeavor he’s been working on, she’s the first to receive them ) and an assortment of candies and snacks like he used to stuff her stocking with when she was growing up. under all of it is another small, wrapped gift ― a photo clearly taken on an old, disposable camera many years ago of the three dunsmore siblings out in the backyard of their old house in the middle of a blizzard as children, dylan up to her knees in snow. rhys made the frame the photo is in out of scrap wood he found in the same backyard where it was taken.

☆ ELLIOT DUNSMORE. ( @elliotxdunsmore )

for elliot, rhys spent several months at the beginning of the year collecting wood from finn’s junkyard to repurpose into a bookshelf he built by hand out in the back yard and kept locked away in the shed to hide from his brother for the few more months it took him to build it, working on it for an hour or two here and there when he could. it isn’t wrapped because rhys isn’t sure he wants to fight that battle, but the shelves already have a few books on them, old ones rhys found of elliot’s when he was digging through their childhood things at their pops’ house.

☆ CORA STANLEY. ( @corastanley )

for cora, actual days are spent trying to decide on the right gift. christ, he hasn’t had a girlfriend in how long? he’s rusty, and he doesn’t want to make too grand a gesture ( and he’s not sure how well his wallet could manage one ) but he doesn’t want to disappoint her either, because she deserves something she’ll love. he eventually settles on a necklace, something small and simple that she might be able to wear every day if she wanted to — a fourteen karat gold chain adorned with a tiny bee charm. it’s kept in a small box on his person christmas day until the right moment under the mistletoe arrives that evening and he can gift it to her along with a kiss.

☆ EMMA STANLEY.

for emma, a small stuffed bear with a baby blue cowboy hat to match the one he’d gifted her at the rodeo, and it holds an envelope containing a hand-written coupon good for either one afternoon spent playing games with rhys and her mom at snake eyes or one movie night at the drive in as soon as the weather’s warm enough. in light of the gift she gave him for christmas, it doesn’t feel like enough — he’s only a little bit embarrassed to admit that the drawing of the three of them standing on the lawn outside of cora and emma’s house, all holding hands, was enough to make him tear up in the moment when she gave it to him and actually break down and cry hours later in his truck, pulled into the driveway, after he’s left christmas dinner at the stanley house.

☆ ANGEL O’CONNOR. ( @angeloconnor )

for angel, a hand-bound leather journal embossed with an ornate celestial design and featuring an onyx stone set in the cover to match the lighter case he got her for her birthday and a set of pens to go with it. the journal is empty, save for a note written on the first page by rhys reminding her that he’s always there to listen whenever she wants someone to talk to, but now she’s got a couple hundred blank pages for when she doesn’t. ( or when she just gets tired of talking to an old man. ) the bottom of the page is filled with shoddy doodles of snowflakes and what were supposed to look like snow angels but turned out more looking like crime scene outlines, and of course, love your brother from another mother, rhys.

☆ FINN O’CONNOR. ( @finn-oconnor )

for finn, a bottle of redbreast twelve year and a set of four new whiskey glasses. they’re nothing fancy and didn’t set him back too much for the whole lot, but rhys did take one of them in to a very kind older woman who occasionally runs a stall at the rodeo in the winter who personalizes gifts — typically leather or metal, so it was a long shot that she’d even be able — and found that she could etch a monogram into the glass for him, so it’s engraved with his initials and a shamrock, and he’ll always know which one’s his when any of the rest of the south side hooligans come to bother him.

☆ DANNY ANDERSON. ( @danny--anderson )

for danny, a crewneck that still remains wrapped in his living room, a gift he’d gotten danny before their fight. he hasn’t seen him since, and fuck if he doesn’t miss his best friend, and he’s honestly tempted to just show up on his doorstep with the poorly wrapped, vulgar sweatshirt as a way to start to try and mend things with him.

☆ DJ ANDERSON. ( @dougie-anderson )

for dougie, a copper japanese tamagoyaki omelette pan. it’s small and strange looking to rhys, who hasn’t the slightest clue about cooking, but he knows he did see a youtube video of a guy rolling an omelette with a very similar pan and talking it up, and it seems cool, so he goes with it anyway, pairing the gift with a six pack of a citrusy IPA and a note that he’s gotta break the pan out next time they do brunch or something... is brunch too fancy for the southside? rhys doesn’t know. it’s just an excuse to drink at his favorite meal of the day.

☆ DUSTY ANDERSON. ( @dusty-anderson )

for dusty, rhys didn’t actually have a gift planned and was probably going to offer him a six-pack of beer. until the drunk bastard stumbled into his yard and smashed his beehive one night not long before christmas, that is. in return, rhys decides to get him a small breathalyzer on a keychain so he can carry it around with him and make sure to stay the fuck out of rhys’ yard when he blows a little too high.

☆ SOFIA SILVA. ( @sofia-silva )

for sofia, a handmade wooden boot rack for her mud room that he built over the summer and has spent the past several months trying to convince himself not to give her early because he’s actually really awful for that. it’s hand-delivered to her house with a bottle of wine and a hug a few days before christmas, and a promise to come visit her even more in the new year.

☆ STRIKER CANNON. ( @strikercannon )

for striker, a carton of marlboro reds and a twenty-four pack of beer that he picked up on sale at the liquor store. it ain’t much, but rhys knows it’ll at least be enough to hold him over long enough to have a couple of good nights. or maybe one really good night, knowing striker.

#☆ christmas 2022 #☆ dylan #☆ elliot #☆ cora #☆ danny #☆ finn #☆ angel #☆ dusty #☆ dj #☆ sofia #☆ striker #this is so belated but it took me forever laksdfalkjsd #anyway merry christmas from rhys y'all

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stardiveatnight · 2 years

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young royals season 2

So. I am one day late but I finally had the time to watch season 2 and i obviously, OBVIOUSLY binge watched it in one go.

Allow me to yell for a little bit because what the actual fuck. WHAT THE FUCK.

I have so many thoughts and I am desperately trying to write them down in a coherent way but I might struggle so bear with me (I am still shaking).

First of all, oh hell am I glad that this ending perfectly set us up for another season. PLEASE NETFLIX. I am begging.

The soundtrack. THE SOUNDTRACK. I absolutely adored s1's soundtrack and I love that they reused some of the songs, and all the new ones they added (The Most Beautiful Boy playing in that last scene was another level of painful)

I finished watching, like, five minutes ago and just screamed into my pillow and then paced through my living room – right now I can't think of anything precise that I disliked about this season and even if I could, this is not that kind of post and I just wanna be happy for a little bit, so here we go, everything I loved after my first watch of season two:

Nils. The way he just nonchalantly came out to Wille – I really hope my neighbors didn't hear the strange squeal I let out when that happened. I and others in the fandom obviously wondered if he might be queer but it actually happening, and so early on in the season... I still dislike his classism and the way he talks about Simon and generally everyone who is middle to lower class, but I so very much enjoyed his and Wille's bonding moments/talks and I think they were so important

Now yes, Vincent did annoy the shit out of me (but in an enjoyable way) but I loved that he got more screen time, too. In general, I love how they fleshed out so many side characters and gave them their own little story lines, not too much that it would be distracting, but just enough. I think the second season is always the best time to start doing so as it would have probably made the first season feel too crowded. But yeah. I very much enjoyed Vincent's tiny villain arc

Stella!! Oh my god!! I immediately knew she was the one who gave Fredrika the letter. If there's a season 3 I hope we get a little bit of her finding a partner or even getting together with Fredrika, that would be so wonderful :((

Also queer Rosh confirmed omg. I was so hoping for this and then it happened and I couldn't be happier. And I also like that it was just mentioned on the side like her just like Simon being confident in her sexuality and uuugggh

Just generally speaking Ayub and Rosh being the best and cutest friends omg when Ayub and Simon facetimed and turned their lights of at the same time I melted a little bit

I know I mentioned it already but the soundtrack. Dear god the soundtrack. Currently listening to The Most Beautiful Boy on repeat as I am writing this and I'm feeling all the emotions aaaaall of them

I know everyone on here was dreading a possible love triangle between Wille, Simon and Marcus (I'm pretty sure they spelled him with a k in the show didn't they?) but I surprisingly didn't mind it. I really like Marcus, even though he was an ass to Simon in the end (not trying to excuse it, but to be fair, Simon treated him quite poorly, too) and to me it also didn't feel forced. People who have a hard time with a break up often try to rebound with other people, and I like that they made it very clear from the beginning on that that was all that it was to Simon. A rebound. I like that more than character A being in love with two love interests and the entire time it's just about who he's going to choose in the end. And as I said, I really like Marcus and he kinda deserved better

I loved all the throwbacks at season 1, all the symbolism (like the snow globe), similar settings/different vibes. Things that were set up in season one that were important now (like with Micke's pills). When Wille closed the curtains I had to giggle a bit. This show is written and produced with so much care and thought behind it it's unbelievable. Also I'm always a sucker for the reoccurring clothes aaargh

When Marcus asked if the fish had names and Simon said no

Yes I'm taking my time to talk about Wille and Simon let me collect my thoughts

Overall I think they worked the plot out quite well. Like, there were some of things that happened that people theorized about potentially happening before but I think it all worked out so well. August as the next in line to be crown prince, Sara and August getting together, Wille coming out in front of the school and all of Sweden kind of? But to me it was perfect

I was so happy to see Alexander back. I felt so bad for him, and even though what he did in the end was really shitty, I kinda get it – his whole character was always about desperately trying to belong and the others using him for his willingness to please them. And obviously he was super hurt. Still when that whole scene played out between August, Alexander and Wille I just wanted to scream

Sara and August bizarrely made sense. Like, I know their relationship was set up in season one already, but I was kind of dreading it. Still, even though I was mad at both of them but especially August, their scenes were so cute and I was secretly rooting for them, or more like hoping for some miracle to happen so everyone could just be happy without anyone having to be the bad guy. But I'm still glad they broke up in the end

Though I was a little sad that Felice had less of a storyline this season, I loved how she was there for Wille and I especially loved how she stuck by him and Simon in the end. She is so loyal I love it

This is just a minor thing but I enjoyed seeing Wille with the other boys and them just being friends, like when they showed up at the party? It's kinda nice

Okay. Okay, now let's talk about Wille and Simon. At first I was a little scared it was going to turn into a draining back and forth, on and off thing, but they solved it so wonderfully. When they first met at the party I was sweating so much. So much emotion in their eyes every time they look at each other, every touch, every kiss, it was like I could feel all of it. The way Simon was so tense every time Marcus kissed him and how he relaxed, smiled and melted into the kiss when he and Wille kissed at the ball? – m a g n i f i c e n t

Their hookup?? Oh my god??? the way Wille lifted him up on the table? I was so surprised and ???

I'm so glad they addressed Wille's anxiety (and anger issues?) like yes my boy needs therapy. I loved those talks he had with the counselor. And the way his communication with Simon and everyone else improved throughout the season – his GROWTH, so well done!! And you could tell that Simon was so much more receptive to what Wille had to say once he actually 1: learned how to say sorry and 2: improved his way of communicating his own feelings. This was so so so important, generally speaking and for Wille, too. Otherwise their relationship would never work out

Okay so when they first introduced the shooting range as a setting I jokingly guessed that someone was gonna get threatened with a gun but when it actually happened I was so shocked. But that scene!! I'm a little surprised the others weren't more alarmed when Wille threatened August with a. literal. gun, but that whole scene – broke my heart into a million pieces. The hurt on Simon's face when he found out about Sara, the betrayal, I could actually feel the pain in my chest

Just. God. Simon deserves so much better. It's so fucked up that he couldn't get the closure he might have needed concerning the video, I was so proud of him for deciding to go to the police and then doubling down when Wille told him that not going would be the only way for them to be together (also, can we talk about how wonderful of a plotline that was but also, jesus, I don't even wanna imagine being in that situation. And I love that Wille told Simon to do what's best for him and wasn't mad that he wanted to go to the police anyway. The way they're all maturing–)

I still love the way they never make a big deal of Sara's neurodivergency but still incorporate it into dialogue and plot in such a natural way

Speaking of natural!! Felice's hair!! She's so gorgeous and seeing her grow more comfortable with who she is and not trying to be like everyone else because that's what people expect was so comforting to see

When Wille asked his mother why she couldn't just be his mother for once

The flashback scene with Erik

Simon's solo

Malin

Everyone's acting

Simon getting to write his own song

Linda

Wille breaking the fourth wall

That ending. I don't think I will ever get over it. I felt like I knew where it was going, and then I wasn't, and then I was, and then I was just screaming. Like I genuinely cannot believe Wille did that. And to see Simon so relieved and happy and god maybe, maybe they finally get to be happy. At least for a little bit. Please let them be happy–

Wille spitting on the ground in front of August

There is so much more but this is so long already. But I think I couldn't be happier. I tried not to have any expectation because even though I know the writers are insanely talented, but I think I've been disappointed by second seasons too many times to go into another one without any worries. And I'm just so happy. In my opinion, this was pretty much a perfect continuation of everything they set up in season one

#young royals #young royals season 2 #yr #young royals s2 #yr s2

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my-minds-attic · 8 months

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I'm reading again

It's just recently that I put myself back into book world. Books were a big thing to me when I was a kid. I used to go to the library every Friday evening after school with my friends. We were not even 8 years old, running the 100 meters separating the school gates to our small village library. I remember these days like it was yesterday. I remember Enola Holmes making me hope I'd be as smart and courageous as her one day. I remember Goosebumps giving me, without me even realising it back then, the love, I still have, for horrific stories. And I remember Percy Jackson. Not only these books made me discover the beauty of greek mythology, but these characters kind of became my friends. That sounds lonely. I mean, I was lonely. But...not really.

My older brother has always been a big part of my 'reading journey'. I never really said that to him but, I'm so grateful for the influence he had on my youth. Especially on pop culture. My love for video games, superhero movies, Harry Potter,... All him. Next time I'll speak to him, I'll thank him for asking mom to buy the Hunger Games and the Oscar Pill books. All that to say, I wouldn't be the same person I am today without him. I definitely wouldn't like reading as much as I do.

My teenage years have been punctuated by the different books I've been reading. You know, sometimes you associate a book with a moment in your life or a place. In my home in France, in winter, when it was snowing outside, I was reading Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by the chimney because my mom just gifted it to me for Christmas. I was trying to sit on the tiny protruding edge close to the chimney glass while reading it, and it was burning my back, and my butt hurt, and I heard the wood crackling, and it smelled amazing and I was the happiest ever. This book became my favorite for a long time, and I now wonder if this whole 'reading environment' wasn't a huge part of why.

I moved to Canada for university three years ago now. I had the great idea of making this life-changing decision during a global pandemic. As a result, you're now dealing with a girl who's ten times more anxious and has lost half of her, already low, self-confidence. I've had a year of online classes and wasn't going out at all, except for taking out the trash. I had traveled thousands of miles for this. Nobody could do shit about it though, so it made me feel a bit better. You'd think that all that time at home would have given me the opportunity to read hundreds of books. Well I didn't. And to this day I don't really know why. I guess I forgot for a while the happiness reading could give me. I wish I didn't forget.

I moved to another apartment at the start of second year. Uni was getting a tiny bit more normal. I mean, I was actually seeing people. But, I also had the worst roommates you can even begin to imagine. Crazy, dirty, stinky, drugged, the whole package really. Unfortunately, with the rise of apartment rental prices, I probably had the lowest rent in the neighbourhood. So I stayed. After a year like that, I thought I was going to go crazy, when my landlord finally managed to kick them out. I didn't know before moving to Canada how roommates can affect your day-to-day life. How they could put such a huge shadow on all your efforts to be more confident and positive.

Third year was last year. If bad roommates can darken your life, good roommates can save your life. I'll call them A and C. The first week, with two new guys on my floor, I got intimidated. I kept my old habits of eating in my room, and going into common spaces only when I knew for sure they weren't there. But sometimes they caught me off guard and I ended up getting to know them just enough to realise they were exactly what I needed. I know that's not what I was to them, but they kind of became my best friends. I went out more often, I was laughing like crazy every night, we were making burgers to each other, we had movie nights, and even got dangerously addicted to online casino at one point. C returned to his home in December after four months together. Me and A were scared the new roommate could never be as good as C. Well, let me tell you, the next four months were the best I had in a long, long time. Our new roommate, Alex, she's still with me today. She's just great. I had a really hard time when it was time for A to leave last May. At the airport, he sent me a text : "Thank you for probably the best year of my life". I'm still struggling now not to see him in every single corner of this apartment. Don't get me wrong, I know he's not dead, and that we'll probably see each other again one day. It's just that... him leaving marked the end of one of the best chapter of my life.

Thanks to third year, something finally clicked in me. I realised the old me was still inside. And that's when I found this out that I entered the library right up my street to buy a book. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, the most recent Hunger Games story.

Anxiety is still very much there, but it goes up and down, and I am somewhat certain I'll overcome it one day.

I missed reading so much guys.

Emma.

#reading #books #books & libraries #canada #university #life #booklr #bookblr #books and reading

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jacquievandegeer · 1 year

Text

First letter to Masha

Dear Masha,

Yesterday I wore the same dress I was wearing in Cyprus when we first met. The dress still fits me, my stomach is a bit rounder now that I'm older, the fabric stretches. I remember the photo series: me with you, me with your husband Petr. I remember your little house on the island. The summer weather. I remember the sidewalk step we sat on. I remember how nice it was to discover that we were programmed in the same building to offer our performances there. My performance was based on memories, on what we remember through time, and especially on what we have as a cultural past in our respective countries of origin. Your performance was a variation on this theme. We all played with memories, old objects, souvenirs, photos, etc. It was very hot on the island. My hair was tightly braided and your hair was still very long and wild back then. Loose. Peter had a long beard. Does he still have a beard?

I believe you were still living in Moscow at the time. Later I understood through the photos on Facebook that you had settled in Siberia, in a small house in a small village. It looked rough with a lot of snow and ice. It also had a certain allure, the white icy cold world you inhabited then. I never thought we would meet in Berlin this winter. It was glad to see you, your hair is shorter. The reason we could see each other in Berlin was sad. The war. The dirty mean war. The border that was closed just after you fled your homeland with your dog. Petr is still in Istanbul. Waiting for a visa. Your dog too. Has that changed now? He had been waiting for more than six months. This war, a year now. Who would have thought that a war would be raging at this time in Europe? I remember the wall. Yes, I live long enough to remember that Europe was organized differently. No European Union. An Iron Curtain, Russia was called USSR. A large territory. Many countries annexed. Everything had started after the second world war, a war with a huge impact on how the world was divided after the signed peace. I wasn't there then. But my parents did. And my family. The stories and of course the huge impact on Rotterdam, my hometown, bombed flat twice. By the Germans, while the Netherlands had already capitulated. By the English, a mistaken bombardment.

Now I read daily in the newspapers about the bombing in the Ukraine, it feels strange and sad, powerless too.

Oh my dear Masha, I have friends there, they are all fantastic artists, just like you two.

I don't know how to express the sadness I feel inside me. Sometimes I cry in the morning, like a child that has lost its mother in a crowd. Masha, I am so thankful that you are all still alive. It has become a diaspora again. You are now studying in Halle. Small student town in the vicinity of Leipzig. Leipzig, former East German city full of punks, trees and art. Halle with her Wunderkammer. This Wunderkammer, have you already visited it dear Masha? All colonial souvenirs crammed together in a tiny show room. Sawfish dried, hanging in space. A very popular souvenir at the time, the sawfish were already extinct after a few years. That's how it goes. We travel and take things with us. Collect.

Today I started an artist residency in Mexico City. It is International Women's Day today. I admire the solidarity of the women here, a big demonstration is being organized this afternoon in the center and many institutions are closing their doors for this afternoon. I remember my first women's day, long ago in Rotterdam. All women took to the streets in solidarity. Now the women's day has become a small celebration there. It seems that the need is no longer there. I doubt that: there is still so much to do, what to think about femicide, rape, sexual deprivation, women trafficking, inequality in pay for work, the areas where women are still married off and have no education and training, cannot walk around without male guidance etc. It all seems so okay in Western countries, but we are not there yet. I think. I feel. Dear Masha I am writing to you and by writing to you I am actually writing to myself. I will be 65 this year. Sixty five years. A whole age. It feels strange, this number. It is the year in which many retire. Or start thinking about it. An age that cuts many off from the bustling life: in the eyes of many, being senior means no longer being seen, no longer being heard and filling your time with family, grandchildren and, above all, doing fun things.

Help. I don't want to retire, I love my job, I don't have small children and I live far from my family. I'm already doing fun things. Help. I know I'm exaggerating but still…I still feel young and strong and actually I'm only now feeling a little better about my aging skin. That is confrontational. The body that ages and timidly shows the first signs. Difficult for me, because I've focused so much on my body since childhood, the almost anorexic time since I was fourteen. Always think about being skinny enough. Never been really happy with my body, my skin, my face, my hair and now suddenly I realize that what people generally say is true: Jacquie you are beautiful. I am beautiful. Finally.

I am beautiful with my wrinkles. Yet I still buy the creams that promise me that this process can be stopped, and sometimes I look in the mirror with surprise in the morning. How did this happen? Millimetre by millimetre, gravity does its job. Still, I think I'm more beautiful than when I was so much more. My veins swell, my hands show a river landscape of blue swollen veins, they twist anarchically on the back of my big white hands with her long fingers. My hands are a combination of my parents' hands. The size is my father's, the shape and length of my fingers too. And the nails are sometimes on my father's side and sometimes on my mother's side. But my middle fingers definitely belong to my mother: crooked at the end, yes, the last part is definitely crooked. With her middle fingers too. My mother is no longer alive. Neither does my father. I am orphan. Only child. Alone on the world. I realize that I am next in line: I live on the way to my mortality, death, which awaits me. I get it out of my consciousness but it's quite difficult.

My right leg has all that my mother had: the veins teeming lush and blue, fine network, interspersed with larger veins on the surface of my skin. They sometimes knock a warning sign to me: 'Yes, we are already here, enjoy every day, know that the time you have left is precious.' Time. I was so young and of course never thought about the time. Whole days, whole weeks even I faltered. Smoking. Staring into the distance. How were you dear Masha when you were young? What was it like growing up under communist rule? I was in a family who were immensely grateful to Canadians and Americans. My parents who had been through a war, had known hunger, and they met during a dance evening with music from a dance orchestra: Glenn Miller's In the mood, American music was popular. The music I grew up with: Peggy Lee, Fats Domino, Tommy Dorsey, Ella Fitzgerald and the Ink Spots. A little later Tom Jones, big sex idol, from my mother. The black and white television with two channels. Tom Jones singing on a catwalk, screeching the women and tugging at his tie, leaning benignly over to let them do so. Mama was glued to the tube drooling and I, as a little girl, was so amazed at all this excitement. Later, also on television, Frank Zappa in concert, with groupies showing their naked breasts, my mother laughing on the couch. The years of the sexual revolution, the man with long hair and the women on the anti-conception pill. I timid and prudish. Times of great change. Working women. Birth control. Nudist beach. Pop music. Youth culture. Study possible for the working class. Traveling with the Magic Bus, without a toilet, rocking and sweating to Portugal, three days on each other's lips. The news from all over the world on a small moving black and white square in the living room. I remember the moon landing, I was still young and already in bed. My father woke me up. “You have to see this,” he said, I sat on the chair in front of the television, drowsy. A vague image as it was then. We didn't need sharpness and pixels yet. A man in a white suit, an inverted fishbowl on his head and stumbling through the landscape of the lunar craters with a flag in his hands: stripes and stars. I think the USSR planted a flag there too, didn't you dear Masha? I can google it for us. Google knows everything. I used to think that if it came to the year 2000, we would stop eating fruits and vegetables and bread and cheese and nuts and so on. I thought we'd get three pills a day on a plate and robots would be all over the city, silver shapes with angular movements. haha. The robots, the future as it was visualized at the time. Wi-Fi. That's it. Computers everywhere. The first, plump plastic beige cube with a gray screen and strange sounds. Even weirder what you saw, I couldn't imagine it. Incomparable to the slim stylized lab-tops we know today. The cell phone. I still remember the first time I saw someone with a big piece of plastic in his hand, screaming in the street, it seemed to no one. I thought, "Oh dear, this gentleman needs help, a psychiatrist or something." But no, it was progress. It seemed like a failure to me, this project of communicating without a cord anywhere in a telephone screaming. Intrusive conversations, way too loud. I couldn't imagine people would want this, it would certainly quickly disappear from the street scene. Hahaha. I spend at least a good three hours a day on my phone or computer Masha. You too? And now we have the white chunks of plastic in the ears, cellphone in hand, eyes fixed on a hazy infinity. Sight and sound shielded. What will follow? It is clear to me, probably one day I will stop following all the new technologies being developed. That's allowed, as an excuse I have my age, hihihi. Or not. Who knows. I’ll write you more tomorrow dear Masha, I'm going to find our photos and hug you from afar, you in Halle, me in Mexico City.

Until then!

With love,

Jacquie

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cynettic · 3 years

Note

hi, i hope i'm not bothering you, but i can order a Scaramouche × Kitsune reader, the two met before the vision hunt (and before he was a fatui if you want) the reader was always in the same place, sometimes having a conversation , the good old routine, but with the hunting of visions the reader disappeared not wanting to give up his own vision, and years later a reunion, SFW or NSFW is by your will, thank you, I really admire your work

Summary - Scaramouche met you as a child, growing up with the constant assurance that you would be right there, sitting at your spot where he could meet you with every visit. He isn't happy when you suddenly disappear.

Pairing - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warning - Slight Yandere warnings?

Penpal - Ahhh- hope this is what you were looking for. I couldn't find a spot to put much nsfw unless I considered writing more for the series ( I could, just put a request in if thats what you’re looking for ). But I hope you liked it!! You're not bothering me at all and I'm glad you like my work!

A/N - Alright- so considering that with the 2.1 update with Scaramouche coming in, I just wanna state beforehand that I wrote this prior so I dont know if we learn about his backstory or anything!!

Link for Part 2

Stay With Me

Scaramouche was used to the routine he’d found himself going along with every visit to Inazuma. As a child he’d pass through the wild fields that stretched just beside his hometown, adventurous and curious with all the tenacity of a child.

And of course you, a kitsune that sat perched on the ground awaiting the Kitsune Saiguu, was bound to notice him. Unlike the other earth kitsune statues, you hadnt turned to stone during your wait. Instead, staying in the same place did you interact with travellers and the locals, which included Scaramouche.

“Fox person!” The little boy chanted, pulling at the hems of your clothing. Bright blue eyes bore into your own, and you slowly shifted your head to pay attention to the boy who was on the verge of bouncing on you.

Humming in reply to his excitement, the little boy paused, both of his small hands still tightly clasping the fabric of your clothes. Soft matted hair brushed past his face in a messy manner, calling out the boy for his boundless running and rebellious urge to keep his hair messy despite his parents wishes.

“Play with me!”

Staring at the boy only a moment longer, you simply chuckled at his antics. “I’m afraid I cannot move from the spot in which I dwell~ Perhaps I’ll be able to entertain you if you bring cards?”

But the young boy had made up his mind at the statement to which you couldn't move. A pitiful frown enfluged his face as he cast you the nastiest glare a five year old could muster. “Boring!” He shouted into the distance of the fields, dramatically turning on his heels and bouncing up into a sprint away. You watched his small figure fade away into the background, absentmindedly sighing and returning to your mindless thoughts.

As a child, Scaramouche would pass by you fairly often. Frequent when he asked you to play with him, and storming away with the same expression when you denied him. Nothing out of the ordinary, you’d lived for an exceptional amount of time, and even though grumpy children were not your specialty, you’d grown accustomed to their behaviour.

Growing up, Scaramouche got no better. You soon noticed his violent tendencies before they became an issue, the way the children shied away from him when playing Temari. Hiding in front of a tough exterior, he scared them away and laughed, approaching you later with tearful sob.

“Will you play with me?” He asked again, trying to hide the fact that he still wept when the other children pushed him away.

But your answer stayed the same, helping him wipe his tears and coaxing him into your arms. Not the first time you’d made contact with a human, but the first time you held them in such an affectionate manner.

It was clear Scaramouche was beginning to see you as some sort of pillar of reassurance when he began running away from home to simply ask to be held. You always welcomed him with open arms, urging him to head back to his household and sort things out. There was no harm in simply providing love and comfort for a child who received none was there?

“Now now, hurry back home little one. Your parents must be growing awfully worried if you’re out by this time at night.”

“My parents dont care about me!”

Darkness slowly pooled into the fields, an obscure shade covering the two of you from the tree you were under. Biting back form your normal emotionless statements, you pondered for something to soothe and convince the boy. Misunderstandings and hardships were normal from what youd seen with children, and you could only offer your hand on his shoulder, a promise. “Go back, I promise to stay here if anything further happens. But you shold give them another chance dont you think?”

And so he’d sprint back to his hometown, and you wouldnt hear from him again till he ran up right up to you a few days later. Begging you to play a game with him. The normal you supposed, and with a grin that seemed to stretch wider with every day, you told him the same thing you told him every single time.

“You cant move?!” Scaramouche nearly yelled one time, tiny fists curling at his side. “Thats… thats stupid!”

“It is isnt it?” You only smiled in response.

Unsatisfied with your response, he clawed your arm, pulling you with all his might. Strong, you realized with surprise that he was much stronger than most children his age. Easy enough to tug away from, but strong enough to take you off guard.

Snapping your hand back to your side, you narrowed your eyes. You weren't angry… no, you hadnt felt strong feelings like that after the disappearance of the Kitsune Saiguu. “Do not attempt to move me,” was your curt response, said in the most stern voice you’d used with the boy.

He’d looked at you only a few seconds longer before bursting into tears, turning away and running. You didn't feel regretful for defending yourself, only turning once more with a tired sigh to stare at the distance.

But just as you stayed ageless, Scaramouche grew older. Still, crossing each others pass was inevitable when you sat in the plains, just alongside the path that lead to his hometown.

With a permanent scowl that seemed to stain his face, he still seemed to have mature a tad bit. Maybe hadnt improved in the social department, because he now scared children and adults and alike, but more mature…

“Hm? Whats this?”

Once again, sitting criss cross under the large tree that provided the perfect shade on sunny days, you stared at the boy expectantly. His hands hesitated at your question, but he resumed shuffling. “Cards,” he simply said in response.

A small featherlike feeling flitted across your chest, making you feel lighter and… almost ticklish. A small smile crossed your face, and you recognized the emotion to be one of adoration. For him to have remembered words you’d spoken years ago, it gave you a warmth you’d sorely missed. A warmth akin to watching him and the other children grow up.

“Ew, dont smile like that, its creepy.”

Swatting at his head, he frowned further when you laughed. “You’re more mature,” you pointed out, lazily leaning back. “You need to work on your people skills though, as someone who hasnt moved in years, thats pitiful that I know more than you.”

“Shut it!”

But as he grew up, you hardly got to see much of him. He’d reached your height and then fully disappeared, leaving no goodbye. And much as you hated to admit it, you hardly noticed, not when days passed in a flurry. You were used to being by yourself, entertaining the kids and greeting the people that passed by.

Sometimes, there’d be the reminder of the warmth he’d given you. But it was quickly overshadowed by your duty to remain seated in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. A dedication kept in its earnest, but beginning to dwindle.

Inazuma was beginning to change.

“The vision decree…” you repeated, staring at the traveller who’d mentioned it to you. “Care to elaborate?”

The new archon threatenening to take away visions from every inhabitant of Inazuma. It was preposterous, so much that you didnt move. Your vision meant the world to you, but so did the Kitsune Saiguu. You werent sure just how you weighed the two till you saw civilians passing by you, ones you recognized, ones that didnt recognize themselves.

It was snowing, cold snowflakes melting into your skin while your hair soaked in the water. Unflinching, you hummed to a little tune, awaiting someone to pass you so that you could attempt to strike a conversation of somesort. The unnatural weather distanced all who entered the field though, and you simply waited. For the Kitsune Saiguu, for someone, or for some form of entertainment, you didnt know. You Slowly closing your eyes, you decided not to care.

“Im gone for five years and you’re still sitting here like a dumbass.”

Eyes snapping open, you find yourself face to face with a complete stranger. Dark purple hair with dark blue eyes, piercing and dangerous in a way you dont recognize at all. Fancy clothing that you cant identify or put a name on.

The boy took a step towards you, crouching down to stare at you directly. His eyes scanned over your figure briefly, and he brushed the snow out of your hair and ears with one flick of his hand. In the next, he was offering a coat to you. “Take it, you’re probably getting cold.”

You leaned forward, ignoring the coat he offered you. Gently, you raised your hand to brush the hair from his eyes, centred on the way his pupils widened. Offering a small moment of surprise and one glimpse into the small childlike blue eyed wonder he was. “Kiddo,” you breathed, pulling your hand back and scanning him once again. “You’ve grown.”

“And you havent.”

Snickering at his comment, you took the coat. You didnt need it, but he looked like he didnt either. He was already wearing clothing that kept him warm, and with careful observation and an untouched coat, you settled on the fact that he’d brought it here. Brought the coat here for you.

“Still havent improved with those social skills of yours have you?”

He scoffed, letting himself fall back till he was sitting fully. “I dont want to hear it from someone who refuses to move an inch for years. Lazy ass.”

You open your mouth to retort, but instead laugh at his comment, shaking your head. “Gained some humour on your journeys have you? Bad words too it seems. Anyways...” He had sat down, which meant that he meant fully well to sit, chat, and catch up. That familiar warmth filled your chest, a contrast between the cold snow. “Welcome back.”

It wasnt often that Scaramouche visited Inazuma, but when he did, he was sure to visit you. The two of you would sit down for hours, talking about the most trivial topics. He never mentioned what he did in his time away, and you never asked.

But things began to go downhill when news of the vision decree finally took action.

“Its no joke anymore! The Raiden Shogun has taken custody of almost a hundred visions!”

In that moment you made your decision, weighing your vision over the Kitsune Saiguu. Awfully selfish you knew, but you’d spent decades sitting there in wait.

And for the first time you sat up from your position on the ground, clumsily stumbling upright but gaining balance. It takes a few steps until you’re back to normal, and you begin your journey in order to escape the Raiden Shogun’s vision hunt decree.

_-_-_-_

You didnt expect to see him again.

Long grass tickled at the skin of your legs, making you adjust your footing to no avail. Sun slowly descending past the mountains to mark the start of an evening and the soon approaching night. A normal day of exploring the mountains and islands of Inazuma, observing the constant changing situation, and running away from the vision decree like a favourite past-time.

With the exception of a firm grip on your wrist.

Dark purple like hair, same hate brimmed eyes and lavish clothing. You recognized Scaramouche the moment he had appeared, looking just as surprised as you were. That being before he snatched your wrist and snarled, “You.”

You wouldve considered it pure luck to find him, an unexpected reunion with someone you actually remembered. But no, his tone had some predatorial edge to it that had you cringing. Hard. “Yes, its me.” You answered back with a frown, trying to loosen his hold. “Nice to see you too, is something the matter?”

He only seemed confused at your words, pulling you closer.

“Something the matter?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, to start, you’re not sitting at your damn spot.”

Taken aback for a moment, you wondered if that sole fact was what drove the boy to such lengths. Surely he couldn't be so troubled over the fact that you moved… “The vision hunt decree, I'm sure I mentioned that I was sticking around in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. I decided to wander around and avoid the conflict until I could settle back.”

“You could’ve waited for me,” he stated almost instantly. “I could have protected you.”

You felt your brows furrow quizzically. “Wait for you? Why in the world would I-”

“Why wouldn't I?” He pushed you closer till he could fully grab both wrists, taking a step closer as if his words would resonate clearer in your head. “You took care of me as a child, it would only be fair for me to repay the favour.” But he only seemed to be looking for excuses. “And besides, you can't just up and leave… I didn't know.”

Before you could interject with the obvious answer that he didn't need to know, you stopped. You’d lived decades, nearly centuries if you’d kept count, and you had learned to read people's expressions even when you’d stayed away from them for so long. He didn't know. It hit you in the most unpleasant way that he wasn't aware that it was none of his concern. To him, you were just another thing he needed to keep track of, something he had control over. His face basically screamed, ‘I depended on you to stay in that place.’

Deep breath in and out. You’d lived long, longer than him, you could deal with a child throwing a tantrum.

“Don't worry,” you gestured to the vision ta your side. “I'm strong enough to protect myself, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be back when the vision decree ends.”

Unconvinced, he pulled you closer, just until your faces were mere inches away from each other. “No,” he said in a stern voice. “I’d rather you by my side, where I can protect you. I hate to question what you’re capable of, but you’ve been sitting down for as long as I’ve known you for.”

“I’ve lived decades more than you,” a simple reply, hopefully enough to get by him. You snatched your hands back with ease, ears flinching slightly when a cold breeze swept past you. But you stayed firm, not wanting to look vulnerable against the imposing air he had around him.

Still unconvinced. “You’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not.”

You’d known him as a kid, watched him grow up along with all the other small ones in his hometown. And maybe you admit you cared a smudge bit about the warmth he gave you when settling down to play cards, but he was different. He had changed in the worst way and you weren't about to deal with it.

“So you’re not coming with me voluntarily?” He asked softly, taking a small step to which you responded by stepping back. He had his hands up, as if telling you he wouldn't hurt you. But the way he said voluntarily sent shivers up your spine.

“No.” Hand on your vision, you held your own hand up threateningly.

He took his time when tilting his head, taking a deep breath in, and then appearing in front of you in just a short stride. Too quick to react, you hesitated before you could attack him. You didn't want to hurt him, he was still a child in your eyes, and you paid the consequences for that. He slid his hand just along your neck, and a jolt of electricity seemed to thrum inside you just as you collapsed in his arms.

Scaramouche was quick to catch you, hoisting you up into his arms dearly. “I do hope you’ll come to understand,” he said softly, cradling your unconscious form in his arms. Making sure not to crush your tail when carrying your legs, he looked past the mountains, sigh resting on his lips.

Because Scaramouche liked to have control of the things he held dear. Like keeping all your valuables neat and tidy in a closet, he was happy knowing you were safe and stable in that spot you always sat on.

And he couldn't have you moving could he?

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshot #genshin fanfic #genshin scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #cynshealthysfw #genshin fluff

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1kook · 3 years

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

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