#most importantly she has BOOKSHELVES

[natreads]

omgggg my coworker is gonna rent out her apartment and I mentioned that I'm interested, please please please let it happen and let the rent be reasonable

[nochukoo97]

we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - teaser

pairing: childhoodfriend!jk x childhoodfriend!oc

summary: you and jungkook have been friends since birth, and as you both grow into teenagers, you can’t help but have some sorr of longing feeling towards him. but after a turn of events, you move away from your home town, growing apart from the boy you onced were close to. almost a decade later when you decide to move back, there’s someone familiar yet unfamiliar waiting for your arrival… was this the universe giving you a sign about him?

warnings/tags: story starts off when the both of them are children, but most of the plot is when they are adults :)), eventual: kissing, an emotional rollercoaster 🥲, they’re stuck in a ‘what are we’ moment, playing a waiting game of who confesses first, a little bit of angst, smut, but fluff too hehe

a/n: IM BACK 🥲 after being in writers block sighhh but i am back hehehe hope u r excited for this!! anyways this is just an intro for the actual fic, its more of what happened before the present which will be in the main part hehehe

TAGLIST OPEN!!

(this is the introduction, the main part is coming soon :)))

MASTERLIST

23 July 2007

You’re currently wedged between two bookshelves in the living room of your house, eyes trained on the words in your book, giggling to yourself when the plot takes a funny turn. Meanwhile in the background, Jungkook and your brother Taehyung, both a year older than you, the two ten year old boys play fighting in your parents backyard, their game was way too rough for you to even watch, you decided.

That’s always the way it’s been since you were young, Jungkook’s mum dropping him off at your parents place as he spent time with your brother, mostly roughhousing like they are now, and you, at nine years old, simply tucking yourself in another fairytale, which to you seemed like a much better way to past time.

You never truly spent a lot of time with the two of them when Jungkook would come over, besides the once-in-a-while moments where your parents would make you guys bond a little through board games or card games which the two elder boys would never take seriously, the games always ending in them either throwing the board game pieces at each other or stacking the cards into a pyramid.

When it came to school, you tried your best to stay away from bumping into your brother at school, but you’d always end up being teased in front of your friends by him and Jungkook, making fun of your two pigtails or your very glittery pink bag you had just gotten as a birthday gift, but you were used to it anyways, having grown up with a brother.

12 August 2011

Four years go by and now you’re finally completing your last year in middle school, Jungkook and your brother having moved on to high school, and as expected, they end up attending the same school, as they have done their whole life.

But since four years ago, a lot has changed. You’ve grown much closer to Jungkook, having gone on quite a few trips with his family, and you could even consider him a close friend. Most importantly, he’d grown from being a kid to a teenager, even though he was only a year older than you, the 14 year old boy suddenly became someone you always wanted to hang out with. To you, you saw him as someone cool. Instead of teasing you along with your brother, he now would defend you from your brother’s teasing, treat you to ice cream on the weekends and even teach you the video games he played with your brother.

“And then he let me get as many toppings as I wanted,” You tell your friends, clicking the buttons on your phone to show them the picture of your ice cream, filled to the brim with all sorts of toppings because Jungkook said you could.

“You’re so lucky, I wish I had a boyfriend like that,” Jiyeon sighs, pouting her lips as she sulks.

Your face turns red, tip of your ears warm as you quickly deny, “He isn’t my boyfriend! Just a friend… In fact he was my brother’s friend first,” No, you couldn’t even begin to try and imagine Jungkook as someone more than your friend!

“Well, but you should definitely confess to him on valentine’s day, it’s in like six months,” Yuji twirls her hair, nudging your leg slightly as she giggled.

To the three of you, as 13 year old girls, having a valentine was a big deal, especially since the whole idea of a crush and all was new to you guys as teenage girls.

“No! I don’t have feelings for him! He’s just nice to me I guess,” You frown at Yuji, just because she confessed to her crush and now apparently has a boyfriend, doesn’t mean you need to do it too, you decided.

You didn’t have a crush on Jungkook right?

You push away the thought quickly, this whole topic was so taboo to you, it made you feel squirmy thinking about it. No, you didn’t have any sort of feelings towards the older boy, never.

-

So that day when you arrived back at home, spotting Jungkook and Taehyung sitting at the table and doing their homework, you decide to take a seat away from the certain boy.

“Huh? Why are you sitting all the way there? Come back here,” Jungkook hums, pulling out his earphones in bewilderment, you had always sat next to him whilst the three of you would do homework together after school, nudging him here and there to ask for help with a math problem.

“I- okay,” You scooch towards the chair next to him, dragging your books along the table as you avoid eye contact. Your cheeks heating up again as you remember your conversation with your friends in school earlier, it made you feel all tingly inside, but why were you being so weird in front of him?

“You’ve been staring at that math problem for ages, need help?”

You jump up in surprise at Jungkook’s voice , letting out a small yelp as your brother snickers at you from across the table, you kick his shin in response, sending his hands flailing to the injury, mumbling some cuss word you don’t understand.

“Yeah,” You only muster out a whisper, handing over your pencil to the boy, who finds your behaviour a little off but nonetheless, doesn’t comment on it.

And while he explains the solution and working to find the value of X, you can only notice his eyes, his nose, the mole under his lips, the scar on his cheek from when he fought with your brother years ago, his lips.

And then you for yourself to snap out of your daydream when his eyes lock with yours in confusion as to why you’re staring at him instead of your workbook.

03 January 2012

But then five months later, opportunity for valentine’s day didn’t even come for you anyways, as you pack your bags to move miles away from the place you once called home, since your father had been posted to a new country for his work.

The whole idea of leaving your life behind and all the people you’ve ever known since young was such an overwhelming feeling that you didn’t even think once about your feelings for Jungkook anymore, or maybe you did once, but it didn’t matter.

So when you tugged your luggage and watch your brother sadly hug his best friend goodbye at the airport, reality struck, you wouldn’t ever get a chance to even properly assess your feelings for Jungkook anyways, so you simply wave him goodbye, not looking back so you don’t think further than a goodbye.

He did make sure to exchange his Instagram and Facebook with you, promising you and your brother to keep in touch, which you agreed to. Maybe there was a part of you that wanted to cling onto the idea of him, but you didn’t let yourself believe that anyways.

[batrachised]

Buckle up, kids, and settle in, for I'm about to share the tale of what went down in the batrachised household last night. There were battles...bonding...bloodshed (well, not really)...batrachised has been forever changed. Exaggeration? Yes, but let me have this.

My roommates and I live quite contentedly in a Patty's Place-esque arrangement: young women, striking out on their own, cozied up in a little residence we all love quite a bit. It's a darling place, full of nooks, crannies, bookshelves! (of very high importance). It has green spaces; airy rooms; bright kitchens; crocheted frogs; what more could we ask for?

Despite our idyllic situation, there has been one slight mar, only one, on our little hobbithole ideal. Wasps. During the summer, we had to battle wasp nests outside with frequency. To give you a sense of how bad it got, the brave savior deserving of a martyr's crown who normally helped us remove them (roommate's dad) took a look at one giant nest and shook his head with a whistle. We had to hire professional help to get them removed - which, not too bad, just pest control in the end. But still, the wasps were fruitful and multiplying in a biblical fashion.

Enter fall. Enter cold. Most importantly, enter death. Death for wasps, as bugs, to quote calvin and hobbes, died by the bucketful. We were free - or so we thought. Oh, how naive those who have never walked paths of treachery and pain are.

One fine fall day, we found a wasp in the living. Horrible, but manageable. It was dying. I finished the job with glasses, a mask, a jacket, shoes, a broom, and significantly, lots of poison, looking like Don Quixote of the broom closet. Finished. Done deal. I patted myself on the back for being a brave household savior. Really, this was the proof that I was a strong independent woman. Good on you, batrachised, I thought.

Then, a second wasp appeared.

Horrible, and less manageable. One wasp is an accident - a door left open too long, a window with a ripped screen. Two wasps is a pattern. Two wasps means more wasps.

However, this wasp was very dead from the get go. I pondered. What to do? Then as so many other fools have done throughout history, I chose to blind myself to the truth. Two wasps - what a freak incident! A pattern, to be sure. But how could there be more? We never saw any buzzing around. Odd. Horrible, But still manageable.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next. Another one appeared, this one alive and angry. Clifford roommate got home at 1AM and had to fend off an angry wasp with a broom and poison, until it disappeared and she decided to throw up her hands and go to bed as was necessary, right, and just. We could no longer ignore the reality in front of us. I called pest control.

The pest control man arrived. He was a cheerful, gregarious man who smelt strongly of cigarette smoke. I decided he was a man to be trusted, most especially when he chipperly let us know that no, we shouldn't pay pest control at all! What a waste of money! The wasps, you see, are in the chimneys. He could remove them for several hundred dollars and the inability to access our house for several hours, or...we could just start a fire. It would get hot in the chimney, they'd get uncomfortable, and they'd leave. Smoke theory and all that.

Great. Fantastic, even. We save several hundred dollars, and get to have a cozy fire! Win win. Maybe we could even make hot chocolate and put on Christmas music! Perfect for the Christmas season. We decided tonight was the night. A half hour of our time, then done.

We received two warnings though.

First, the gregarious pest control man had let us know to be careful when opening the flue, as wasps can fall. "Just jerk your hand out quickly," was what he sagely said in so many words. I repeat, we decided this made sense. After all, we could close the metal curtains. That would keep those ol' darn wasps away. Still, we approached the flue carefully.

Second, my little sister. She listened to our plan skeptically. She gravely said (paraphrasing), somber as a small child, "But these are southern wasps." I laughed. Why shouldn't I? We had heard from our dear friendly expert. She finished with a (paraphased again) line of "What if the wasps go down instead of up?"

Well, there's a fire, little sister! Surely they wouldn't!

Flashforward to us in front of the fireplace. My roommate reaches and opens the flue. There's a thud. The sound of something falling. But nothing swarms out. We release a breath.

Neither of us have lit a gas fire before, so we don't know how and have to look it up--and then, in the meantime, my roommate notices:

A wasp.

In the (unlit) fireplace. Nestled in the fake logs. Looking cozy as a demon thorn with wings can.

We decide worriedly to tape the metal curtains shut. They would protect us, remember? These curtains of chain metal (you might be familiar with chain metal as the one full of holes). Tape them shut. I run to get tape. My roommate watches the wasp. The curtains are taped shut. Ah, another sigh of relief. We continue our research into gas fireplaces.

When we look back, the wasp is on the outside of the curtains.

Reader, here I will be honest: if you're expecting a giant nest to fall down, and us to have to run for our lives, this does not happen. Or at least, it has not happened yet. But in that moment, that trembling, unsteady moment, we knew that anything was possible. We didn't know that a giant nest wouldn't fall. But we did know that we had committed. We had opened the flue. We had woken the beast.

Fear strings through the air tensely, but we continue. Roommate bravely lights the fire. Half an hour. Half an hour, then we're safe.

My memory of the next few minutes is shaky, but I remember one clear, bright detail gleaming out among the rest:

We saw more wasps.

One flew through the air. Slow, lazy. Unhurried. But assuredly directly headed for us.

Both of us scurried out of the room like we'd seen the girl from the ring.

Reader, the wasps had come down instead of up.

Three wasps, to be specific. Even as I sitting here writing this, it's possible we missed more. There was a fire roaring that would hopefully prevent more. But that did little to assuage our fears. I now understand what it's like to live in a horror movie. Around every corner, danger lurks. Danger lurks behind the curtains. Danger lurks in the lights. Danger lurks in the blankets. Nowhere is safe. Anything can happen at anytime. There are creatures in your house, waiting to attack for no reason. It's not your house at all, in fact: it's theirs. The house is on their side. It hides them, cloaks them, shelters them, and in doing so, destroys you (well my mental stability anyway).

Half an hour, and then we're safe. The problem was, that whole half an hour factoid didn't seem to ring quite true anymore. What I was realizing with a cold, gripping understanding, was that there might not have just been one wasp nest in that chimney - there might have been many. If not a downright giant hive. And we had lit a fire, right under their home.

It was time to discuss backup plans. We came up with an escape route on the off chance it was a big swarm. We grimly got out the wasp spray. And most horribly of all, we waited. Waited sturdily. Waited fearfully. My roommate made soup, then froze. "Did you hear that buzzing?" No, I hadn't. Did she hear a distant buzzing in the chimney?? No, she hadn't.

We scoped out the enemy's territory. There was a scout on the ceiling, still except for the occasional shift. Another lazily flew through the room. We had been invaded.

All throughout, that waiting for the worst, something was edging through the back of my mind, snaking through

We were going to have to turn the fireplace off and close the flue. Or, in other words (1) enter the wasp territory (2) turn off the wasp deterrent, and (3) stick our hand up the wasp-infested chimney. It was very much the moment in the horror movie when they realize the only way out is through. We had our velociraptor in the kitchen, except it was a ton of wasps in the chimney. What's more, we had our chosen weapon of poison, but our chosen weapon couldn't be used because the wasps were coming from the lit fireplace, unless we wanted to start a chemical fire.

Half an hour passes. We decide to wait longer. Better to be safe than sorry.

Finally, after an hour, we glance at each other. We have a somber discussion, akin to tributes from the same district about to enter the hunger games arena. How long to run the fireplace? Would more time matter at this point? Who would close the flue?

I decide if I go down, I'm not going down without a fight. Much like a few weeks earlier, I grab a jacket. I make sure I have my glasses on. I grab a mask to cover my face. I have shoes on my feet. I get an extra shoe to put on my hand. I have a potholder on the other hand to close the flue. Don Quixote (Don Avispa?) has returned.

We march into the enemy territory. The enemy watches from above. Bravely, we steadfastly ignore it. I ask my roommate to watch my back and cover me as I turn towards the side of the room. First step: close the windows. Visions of thousands of wasps hiding behind the curtains dance through my head (at this point you should have realized i have no common sense about wasps and would die immediately in a zombie apocalypse). I ripple the curtain gently. Nothing. One window down. Next window: again, nothing. Another window down.

Now, time for the fireplace.

Wizard Hat roommate insists on sacrificing herself to the flue. She's done before; she has the muscle memory. Both of us are concerned that closing the flue will jostle the wasps and cause more to fall down - wasps that if still living, have to be very angry. I hand her the potholder.

The flue closes without incident.

We wait, holding our breath.

No more wasps.

With not a little relief, although still edgy, we make our way to the other room. We still have wasps in the house, but for now, the risk of having a torrent of wasps come down the chimney seems to have abated. I will never forget, though, that time period of waiting.

We decide to stay up a little longer. Just in case. The fireplace is cooling down now, so in a way there's more risk of wasps.

We go to the other room and sit, making conversation quietly. It's not unlike the ending scene in Jurassic park where they're in the helicopter, bruised, worn, but still alive.

It's then I look up. And heading straight for me, straight and low, is a wasp.

We leap up. I hear its buzzing in the room, and I grab the poison. Enough is enough. This wasp is dying tonight.

It feebly lands on the fireplace, and we see that it seems to already be dying. The Lord is merciful when he wants to be. Unfortunately, its proximity to the fireplace means that I can't spray it safely. We talk, waiting for it to move, but then we lose sight of it. My roommate briskly goes to cover her chicken soup. "I don't want a wasp to fall in it." Wise words, and wiser priorities.

It's when she finishes that she notices it on the floor, still somewhat feebly dying.

I have to admit, I'm not the coolest head under pressure. We could have just waited it out. But I had had enough. Wasps? Wasps in my house?? Wasps that had tried to divebomb me??

I went a little berserk, even trigger happy, and sprayed the ever living bejeesus out of that wasp. The spray said it killed on contact, which did not turn out to be true because that wasp was KICKIN'. On the floor, but still kickin'. I sprayed it again. And again. And again.

Finally, it stilled. RIP, wasp. (Rest in Poison).

However, we then faced the fact that I had created a giant puddle of poison smack in the middle of the floor that we now had to clean up. We got out rubber gloves (I noted them for future use of fighting wasps, more armor), and paper toweled away. Once done, we had to face the issue of where to soak the poison-coated gloves, and decided in a plastic tub on the counter.

And so this tale comes to end (for now). We decided wearily to go to bed. We were done with the day. More wasps may come, but we'd shut the door.

The final cherry on top of the sundae though, was the fact that Clifford Roommate was not home during all of this. This means that she got a series of increasingly frantic texts that looked something like this (I invite you to consider the fact that these wouldn't be out of place in a doctor who episode):

We lit the fire and wasps came out be careful!!

keep the doors shut! we have to keep the wasps out!!

don't turn off the light in the living room...the light distracts them

we've closed the flues. the fire is off.

there's one in the room with us now

we're trying to kill it!!

DO NOT touch the gloves in the kitchen, they're covered in poison

Drums, drums in the deep.

All this to say, if ever you decide to light a fire to chase away wasps, be prepared. They might just come down instead of up.

[baejax-the-great]

Holy balls 👀 looking VERY forward to your Thanzag/Grindr story

Ahaha, okay here's the start of it.

Thanatos has never spent much time engaging in the masculine arts of plumbing, woodworking, or car upkeep. He could blame it on growing up without a father, but the truth is Nemesis could put together a motorcycle engine in her sleep in the garage she built with her bare hands and Thanatos never took her up on any offers to learn.

The closest Thanatos has gotten to being “handy” is putting together particle board bookshelves, which he feels pretty confident he can do as well as anyone else, so when Charon handed him a tool box as gift when he graduated from high school, he could probably only accurately name three of the tools in it. Seven years later, and he can confidently name five.

The toolbox is bright pink. The plastic handles of the matching set of tools have glitter in them. Charon did this on purpose, grinning like an imbecile when Thanatos pulled it out of the bag. Thanatos wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of being upset about a sparkly, pink present, deciding that graceful acceptance made Charon look like the bigger idiot in the end, and he’s also not one to throw away perfectly useful tools, particularly when he uses those tools at most twice a year. Seven years on, and the kit is still in almost pristine condition, dutifully sitting in the back of Thanatos’s closet, waiting to be used.

His screwdriver is missing.

He can’t think of the last time he would have used it. He’s lived here for over two years, and he hasn’t bought shitty furniture to fill the place in at least six months. He can’t think of where he would have put it away that was not exactly in the empty spot where it goes, because he puts everything away in the exact spot where it goes.

Most importantly, he can’t think because his socks are soaking wet because his bathroom is flooding.

He doesn’t need the screwdriver to turn off the water to the bathroom, so he does this. He calls the emergency maintenance line for his apartment, but unsurprisingly for a shithole with an exploding sink, he gets no answer. He really needs to move when his lease is up.

[oohnoniall]

Dirty Thoughts.

Steve has it bad for next door neighbor and best friend's little sister Emily Munson.

WARNINGS; SMUT, MINORS DNI. masturbation, perv!steve.

There were about a million and ten reasons why he should not be doing this. For starters, it was completely wrong morally, ethically, and most importantly legally. She had a boyfriend, one who treated her like shit and one that didn’t deserve her, but a boyfriend nonetheless. She was his best friend’s little sister, only by five minutes. But most importantly, Emily Munson hated him. She’d deck him if she ever caught him.

But fucks sake it felt as though she were teasing him.

He sat at his desk, bent over another college admissions essay. He was reapplying to state schools, not the Ivies his parents had demanded but it would be college nonetheless. It wasn’t like he was trying to look into her window. Steve was being a good guy, honest.

Emily stood with her back to the window, black hair tickling her shoulder blades. He tried not to think of how nice her thighs looked in her stupid fishnets. Tried not to imagine kneading the doughy flesh and making her whine.

He dropped his pencil when she slipped off her t-shirt.

She was teasing him.

She had to be.

Her head moved to the side, shoulders tensing. She shouted something. Probably her brother’s name. 

He watched as she shrugged on her Hellfire shirt, cropped to just below her bra. His fingers twitched, imagining running his fingers up and down her sides, cupping every single inch of her body. He wondered if her breasts would be heavy in his palm, wondered if anyone had ever worshiped her the way he wanted to.

She walked out of her bedroom. Steve couldn’t focus on his essay. Not when Emily Munson had walked out of her bedroom and had walked right into his thoughts.

God, Eddie was going to murder him if he ever found out.

But Steve could handle hiding it for as long as it took. He could handle the fighting, the raging, the way she looked at him as though she daydreamed about skinning him alive. He could take it as long as she was looking at him.

He pushed himself away from his desk. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on those essays anyway. Not when his mind was plagued with thoughts about Emily Munson and the way she smiled brighter than the sun. The way her plump red or black painted lips would look wrapped around him. The way she’d look bouncing on his cock, her perfect tits swinging and her head tilted back in pleasure. Steve knew he’d ruin her, knew she’d whine and cry and beg for more.

His cock swelled at the thought.

He knew it was so wrong, so so wrong to think of her.

But how could he not?

Emily Munson was the sun. She was the universe. She was the only thing that have ever mattered to him, and yet, she didn’t even realize just how much he wanted her. Didn’t realize how much he needed her. How much he craved her. If she did, she had never made a move to acknowledge it. Had never made a move to acknowledge him.

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, facing his window that faced into hers. Her lights were off. But the fairy lights gave a gentle glow on her bookshelves. Bookshelves that he had put together because Eddie couldn’t be trusted with a hammer. His handiwork in her room. His mark.

God, he was pathetic.

It didn’t take much effort to picture her lounging on her window seat, in that little pajama set that Steve loved so much. Black lace that clung to her curves, that showed off every inch of her body. Her thighs always looked so plush, so creamy and ready for him to bruise when she wore it. 

A shudder went down his spine as he shifted further up his bed, his pants falling to the floor.

She’d be reading, a pen or a cigarette between her lips. She’d chew on the tip of whatever it was absentmindedly. His cock twitched at the thought of it. At the thought of how her eyelashes would flutter against her cheekbones. About how her lipstick would leave a stain on that cigarette.

He spit into his hand, regret already forming in his mind but he didn’t care.

He had tried so hard to be good. He had tried to ignore the way she looked at him like she was going to eat him alive. He tried to ignore the fact that he wanted her to. He tried to ignore the way he couldn’t stop picturing how her ass jiggled when she ran up the steps. He tried to ignore every racing thought, but he couldn’t.

Steve was going straight to hell.

“Em,” he groaned softly as his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He tugged gently, his mind picturing her hand. The way she would struggle to wrap around him. The way she would blush and stutter upon first seeing him.

His eyes closed, head tilting back.

She was there, breasts spilling out of her shirt and waiting for him to paint in his cum. She’d beg for it. Beg for him.

The little brat would be tempered for him. 

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you? Staring through my window huh? Just hoping you’d catch me doing something, weren’t you? Fuck,” his pace quickened, matching what she did in his head.

He knew Emily would be a wildcard. Knew that she would bite and scratch and make damn sure to mark him up throughout their time together. Damien was evidence enough of that. There had been so many days where Steve had to bite down on his jealousy, when Damien had worn Emily’s markings with pride. Possessing her. 

Damien didn’t realize that Emily was not a creature to be possessed, was not a creature to own. She was perfect. Perfect and otherworldly. Steve would worship her, either from afar or to her face. Whatever she gave him, whatever she allowed.

She controlled him. Not the other way around.

“Such a good girl for me, Em.” If he did get to dominate her like he dreamed of, it would only be because she allowed it. Because she wanted it.

Steve needed her to want it. Steve needed her to need it.

His mind played with him, showing him the Emily he wanted to see. The one who was begging for him, the one who wanted to choke on him. The one who wanted him to fucking destroy her.

Steve cursed loudly at the image of Emily laying on his bed, thighs spread and looking so bashful before him.

Stevie please. I’ll be good, I promise.

He grunted as he came onto his hand. The thought of Emily begging sending him over the edge.

He had to stay like that for a moment. Just breathing, trying to figure out what was wrong with him mentally. 

There had to be a lot considering what he had just done.

Steve opened his eyes, moving to sit up so he could clean up. However, he quickly froze. 

Standing in the window, her knees on that window seat, was Emily Munson. Her mouth open and a shocked expression on her face. She looked away once she realized he was staring at her.

Oh yeah, Eddie was gonna fucking kill him.

[november-rayne]

Chapter Eighteen: Home

Summary: Loki and Sigyn decide where they are going to live after the wedding. The sexy stuff starts after the second break.

Word Count: 4800

Rating: Explicit for smut

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Tags: Explicit descriptions of hand stuff

Chapter Index

“There are many empty apartments available. To avoid touring all of them, why don’t you tell me what you are hoping for.” Fredrik, the head of household management, dipped his quill in his ink and smoothed his parchment out before him.

Loki and Sigyn exchanged a look. They sat across the desk from him. The Queen and Lady Anderson were seated on the settee against the wall. “Well,” Loki started, “most importantly, would be space for my beloved’s many dresses and shoes.” Sigyn rolled her eyes at him.

“Many of the newly renovated spaces have had closets added. So, we are not limited to wardrobes anymore. Easy enough. What else?” Fredrik scribbled a note on the parchment.

“Bright, lots of windows and light. South facing, perhaps? With a large balcony, if possible?” Sigyn looked to Loki.

“Sounds lovely. I would also like a large dining area open to the lounge.”

“Large dining…” Fredrik scratched the parchment, “Table size? Six? Eight?”

“Twelve, minimum.” Loki said, “Sixteen to twenty being optimal.”

“Very large, got it.”

“Indeed.”

“Excuse me, Fredrik, but are you familiar with modern Midgardian bathrooms?” Sigyn asked.

“Yes, My Lady.” Fredrik looked up from his desk and smiled at her. “If that is what you desire, I have just the apartment for you to tour.” He placed his quill down and sat back in his chair. “Newly renovated, bright, open, and spacious, four bed chambers, five bathrooms, an office with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, separate servants’ entrance, very modern. Would you like to see it?”

Sigyn bounced in her seat and looked at Loki, “Can we? Do you have time?”

“Of course, my love. Let us go.”

Fredrik gathered his notes, selected a golden keyring from its hook on the wall, and led everyone to the hallway. “We are headed to the top floor. Follow me.”

“If you do not mind,” the Queen said, “I need to talk to Lady Anderson privately. Loki, can you escort Sigyn to my garden when you finish here?”

“Of course, Mother.”

“But…” the Lady motioned towards Loki and Sigyn.

“They will be fine.” Frigga waved dismissively, “Besides, it is quite a long walk just to see some big empty rooms. I would much rather like to see it once it is furnished. Come with me to my garden. We can talk and wait for them there.”

“Right. Of course, Your Majesty.”

They bowed as the women headed off in the opposite direction. Fredrik led the way, the key ring jangling from the clasp on his belt. Sigyn clung to Loki’s arm with both hands, and he would occasionally pepper her forehead with kisses throughout their journey.

“This is the same wing of the palace my parents live in,” Loki stated as they passed pair after pair of guards stationed throughout.

“Yes, Your Highness. Their chambers are on the North side, and we are headed to the South side.” Fredrik said as he made a sharp right turn.

They walked a little further before Fredrik stopped in front of a nondescript door. “This is the closest nursery to the unit,” he opened the door and stepped inside, “if you will be requiring one.” The couple followed him inside. “It has not been used in quite some time. It would need some updating.”

“Hmmm.” Sigyn looked around, “This is depressing.”

Loki opened one of the doors to a bed chamber and looked inside.

“The windows face the courtyard, so it does get some light. There are rooms for two nannies and a wet nurse, a large bathroom, and enough space for four to six children,” Fredrik supplied.

“Hmmm…” Sigyn said again.

“Give me some notes before the first blessed event, and I can have my team get started with any changes.”

“Right. I will think about it.” She gave Fredrik a small smile.

Loki placed his hand on the small of Sigyn’s back and led her out into the hall. He kissed her lightly on her forehead before taking her hand in his and catching up to Fredrik.

The apartment was opulent. The front double doors were gold-plated. Inside was a small foyer with a cloak closet on one side and a small alcove with shelves on the other. The living and dining areas were open to the second floor. The back wall was made entirely of glass windows and doors that led out to the extra-wide balcony. The floors and pillars were marble.

An office had glass-paned double doors with gold hardware. A sweeping marble staircase ran up to the second floor.

Fredrik opened the double doors with a flourish and walked to the center of the great room. “Open living and dining area, three guest rooms on the second floor, each with a private bathroom, and…” he walked over to the fireplace, “just look at this beautiful work of art.” He ran his hand along the mantel. “I can picture your family portrait right here on this wall.” He gestured above the fireplace.

Loki wrapped his arm around Sigyn’s waist and looked down at her as she took it all in. “This is beautiful.”

Fredrik opened the double doors to the office, “Plenty of space here for a large desk and chairs.” Mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the left and right walls. The back wall curved outward, and there was one step up to a raised floor for the desk to reside. “We can paint these two walls whichever color you choose, Your Highness.” He motioned to the front and back walls.

Loki released Sigyn and stepped up onto the raised section of the floor. He ran a hand along the bowed wall, and it immediately turned to a rich forest green. “This goes quite well with the mahogany, don’t you think?” He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Perfect.” Sigyn beamed at him.

Loki waved his hand, and the illusion disappeared. “This will do nicely as a home office. What else can you show us, Fredrik?”

“Follow me, Your Highness, My Lady.” He led them to the balcony next. The doors were extra tall, opening out to the large stone terrace. It was wide and ran the length of the apartment. “This is a corner unit, so the balcony wraps around to access the main bed chamber. Look at this view.”

Sigyn ran to the balustrade and looked out over the expansive south lawn of the palace. “Oh, Loki, look! There is the hedge maze. And look at the fountains and the topiaries. They look so small from up here.” 

He walked up to her slowly, admiring the shape of her body in the dusty rose-colored dress she wore. Her hair was loose this day, parted down the middle with a dainty crystal barrette on each side, pinning her hair back behind her ears. He slid one hand around her waist and placed the other hand on top of hers on the railing. She pressed herself back into his body. “Do you love it?”

He kissed her temple, “Yes, I do.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles a few times, then ran his fingertips up her forearm. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she shivered. Loki smirked as she turned around and pressed herself against the length of his body. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I think I will enjoy having you on this balcony, in broad daylight, hearing you moan my name as it echoes across the lawn.”

She dug her nails into his tunic and rubbed her thighs together. “Do not tease me, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to see the bedrooms next?” Fredrik asked from the doorway.

“Ah, you are reading my mind,” Loki answered without looking away from Sigyn. She licked her lips and accepted Loki’s hand as he led her back inside.

The primary bed chamber was almost as large as the living room. It also had a massive fireplace and glass-paneled doors to the balcony. 

“As you can see, there is plenty of space for a sofa and chairs in front of the fire. You could place your bed along this wall and have a view of the balcony or along this wall and look at the fireplace. These walls are extra soundproof.” He gave the wall a few bangs with his fist. “But the best part, through these doors, is the en suite you hoped for.” Fredrik opened the doors wide.

Sigyn’s eyes immediately went to the giant sunken bathtub in the back corner. Then to the large glass shower in the other corner. A long bathroom vanity with two sinks and a hair and make-up vanity lined the back wall. The other wall had three doors along it. Everything was bright, marble with gold fixtures.

Sigyn squealed as she kicked off her shoes and ran to the bathtub. She got in and threw open the large window above it. Loki laughed out loud as she sat in the empty tub, fully clothed, and exclaimed, “My stars! This tub is spacious enough for four of me! Loki, come see.”

Loki was still laughing as he said, “I see, sweetling.”

Fredrik opened the shower door and stepped inside, “Steam shower with multiple showerheads, bench, shampoo shelf. Plenty of room for two.” He wagged his eyebrows as he exited. “His and hers walk-in closets just over there.”

Sigyn squealed again as she made her way out of the tub with a hand from Loki. She ran to the first door to find a small room containing the toilet and bidet. “Oh, clever.” She shut the door and opened the next one and found a large closet with a few rods for hangers, built-in dresser drawers, a shelf for boots, and a valet stand. “This one must be yours, love.”

She opened the third door and started bouncing on the balls of her bare feet. This closet was three times larger than the last one. In the back was a three-sided full-length mirror. There were shelves for shoes, built-in dressers, a built-in jewelry case, and row after row of rods for hanging dresses. She walked into the closet and ran her hands over every surface. She squealed and bounced again, unable to contain her excitement.

“We’ll take it,” Loki told Fredrik as he grinned widely at Sigyn.

“Did you want to have a look at the upstairs bed chambers?” he asked.

“No,” Loki held his open palm to Fredrik, “Keys.”

Fredrik fumbled at the clasp on his belt, unhooked the keyring, and placed it in Loki’s hand.

“I will return these to you later. Leave us.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“My betrothed and I wish to discuss furniture options. In private. Go back to your office. I will drop off the keys and notes for any changes we wish to make later.” Loki ushered Fredrik to the front door.

“I appreciate your time today, good sir. And if anyone asks, you were with us the entire time.” He shoved two gold coins into his palm.

“Yes, Your Highness.” He bowed. “Thank you.”

oOXOo

Loki locked the door behind Fredrik. The ‘click’ of the lock echoed loudly through the ample space. He turned and sauntered out of the foyer. A devilish grin widened as he saw Sigyn leaning on the bedroom doorframe.  He spun the keyring around his finger as he slowly stalked across the vast room.

“Furniture options, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” Loki smirked and dropped the keys into his pocket.

“Our mothers are expecting us in the garden.” Her heart rate was picking up.

“I bought us some time.” Loki walked to where Sigyn stood and kissed the back of her hand.

“I would like to right a wrong that I caused. If you would permit me, My Lady.” He kissed her palm and her wrist. He then ran his lips lightly over the skin from her wrist to the crook of her arm and back again.

“You have caused no wrongdoing to my knowledge.” She watched as he placed a feather-light kiss on the tips of each of her fingers.

“Did you not have to retire to your room and pleasure yourself with your own hand after our lunch date?”  He put the tip of her index finger to his lips and licked the pad of her finger.

“Mmmm, yes. But…” he added her middle finger to the onslaught of kitten licks, “can I tell you a secret?”

“You can tell me anything.” He put her first two fingers into his mouth, closed his eyes, and sucked on them whorishly.

“That was not the first time I put my hands on my body and imagined they were yours.”

His eyes shot open. Sigyn used her free hand to slide the strap of her dress over her shoulder, letting it slip down her arm slowly until most of her breast was exposed. Only her nipple remained hidden behind the structured fabric.

“Touch me, Loki.”

He obeyed.

More gently than he wanted to, he slid the other strap over her shoulder and let the top of her dress pool at her waist.

His hands squeezed her hips, as he stared at the gentle slope of her full breasts. Her nipples peaked, anticipating his attention. A rose pink contrasted against her tanned skin.

‘No sun lines...’

He groaned and palmed her breasts. Resting his thumbs on her sternum, he kneaded them upwards and lowered his mouth to one of her waiting nipples. He drew it in deep, his jaw opened wide; needing to get as much of her in his mouth as he could. He sucked on her and moaned as large hands massaged her.

“Loki…”

He tore himself away from her breast and landed on her mouth. A frenzy of teeth and tongues and lips.

He walked her backward until her back was pressed against the wall.

Loki embraced her and kissed her deeply as he ran his large hands over the bare skin of her back. She was pulling and tugging futilely on his tunic, trying to bring it over his head, but his arms were like a steel cage around her.

“Please, Loki,” she breathed in between kisses. He reluctantly released her, only long enough to pull his tunic off and throw it to the ground. He was rewarded when he felt their bare chests come together. The skin-to-skin contact sent heat through his entire body. Sigyn’s soft hands ran over his back and shoulders. “Yes,” she moaned, “Oh Gods, yes.”

Loki ran one hand through her hair and held the back of her head as he kissed her. His other hand massaged her breast and rolled her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Sigyn’s hands traced every dip and curve of his body that she could reach.

He pulled back slightly so he could take each breast in hand again. She made a quiet whimper of protest as he broke their kiss. “I want to see you.” He told her as he took a step back. She instinctively moved to cover herself with her arm, but Loki gently took her hand in his, “By the Norns, Sigyn, you are so lovely.” He whispered as he drank in the sight of her, exposed to him from the waist up.

He reached over and gently ran his index finger around the emerald stud above her navel. “Does this hurt?”

“No. Initially, yes. But not anymore.”

“It is pretty.”

“Thank you.”

He put both hands on her waist, slid them up to her breasts, and kneaded her gently. “These are very pretty as well.”

Sigyn laughed, “You can thank my parents for those.”

“I think I will; the next time I see them together, I will say: ‘My Lord, My Lady, thank you for fucking and creating the most beautiful, perfect woman ever to have drawn breath in the Nine.’’

Sigyn giggled, “Ewww.” She playfully slapped his shoulder. “You know how to kill the mood.”

“Once again, you have distracted me from my mission.” He grinned at her as he released one of her breasts to wrap an arm around her waist.

“Oh, yes. Of course, the mission.” She had one arm around his waist, and the other hand was running over his chest. “What exactly was today’s mission again?” She kissed his neck and shoulder.

He traced her cheekbone with the tip of his nose and whispered close to her ear, “I want to make you come, sweetling.”

Sigyn’s knees almost gave out. A tight pulling sensation started low in her belly. He placed a hand on the side of her neck and gave her tiny kisses under her ear. “I want my hands to bring you pleasure. Would that be all right with you?”

“Oh, Loki…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and crashed her lips onto his. He kissed her until she was panting and breathless, then grabbed handfuls of her chiffon dress until it was up to her thighs. He hooked one of her legs around his waist and pressed her more firmly into the wall. He held her leg up by the knee with one hand and rubbed her thigh with the other.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Please do not stop.” She kissed him deeply.

Loki continued to kiss her urgently as he slowly stroked her with his fingers over the top of her panties. The fabric was hot and damp. He wanted to throw her to the ground and fuck her senseless right there on the bare floor. But he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and refocus on his task. Today was to be about her.

He slipped his hand into the waistband of her panties and cupped her naked sex with his palm. He left it there and kissed her sweetly for a few minutes. Watching her face for resistance, he slowly began tracing his index finger back and forth along the cleft of her sex.

Sigyn closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder, relishing the tender affection of his gentle finger. He pulled his hand away just long enough to wet his middle and index fingers in his mouth. He pulled her knee wider and pressed into it with his hip as he slid his hand back into her panties. He nudged his first two fingers to her entrance. He massaged her clit a few times with his thumb before he slowly pushed his fingers inside.

She let out a long low moan as his long fingers moved into her. The sound reverberated around the large empty room.

That sound alone almost made Loki come undone, not to mention the wet hot heat that encircled his fingers. He paused for a moment to regain control of himself. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo as he rested his head against hers.

'Today is for her. Focus,’ he reminded himself.

He slowly pulled his fingers back and then pushed in again. He pulled them out once more and used the slickness there to lubricate her clit before pushing them inside of her again. He slowly started pumping his fingers more rhythmically as he gently added pressure to her clit with his thumb.

“Is this okay? Sigyn, look at me, sweetling.”

Her eyes were still closed as she lifted her forehead from his shoulder; her lips were parted. “Please do not stop.” She panted as she opened her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide. She wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him desperately. She started rocking her hips forward, matching his rhythm. She abruptly broke their kiss, “Ahh.” She squeezed her eyes closed tightly. “More, please… ahh.”

He moved his hand faster and made gentle circles around her swollen bud with his thumb. “Does that feel good, pretty girl?”  She nodded wordlessly as she matched his pace with her hips.

The sounds echoing around the room were downright obscene. Loki was on the verge of losing control again. The stimulus on his senses was overwhelming. She was so tight and warm around his fingers. He tried not to think about his cock inside of her, but he could not help himself. His rhythm faltered only slightly as a shudder rocked through his entire body.  A sticky, wet heat spread slowly in his trousers.

Her moans started becoming more wanton. “Yes, Loki… don't stop…” She was clinging to his shoulders. “Don’t stop… so close…”

“Are you going to come for me, pretty girl?” Eyes closed, she nodded. “Use your words, kitten.”

“I… ahh… ahh…”

“Look at me, sweetling. Let me see your pretty face.”

She raised her head and looked into his eyes, “Lo…ki…” Her hips stuttered pace, and Loki felt her walls flutter before her pelvic muscles clamped onto his fingers. Her cunt pulsed. Her head fell back, her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her fingers curled on his shoulders, dragging her nails across his smooth skin.

“That’s a good girl, coming undone on my fingers. You come so prettily, kitten.” He slowed his pace, easing her from her ecstasy and stroking her languidly.

Sigyn’s legs were shaking, her heart racing; she was panting. “Oh… oh fuck…”

Loki gently pulled his hand out of her panties and hoisted her other leg around his hip so that both legs were wrapped around his waist. He held her up by her bottom as he pressed her into the wall. He kissed her neck and shoulders, “Are you all right, sweetling?”

Sigyn let out a breathy laugh, “I am a mess. That was,” she shook her head, “That was intense.” She arched her back to press her chest into his, “Thank you, love.”

“My pleasure, My Lady.” He kissed her deeply.

“Let me…” she ran her hands over his shoulders, chest, and abs to the top of his trousers. “Let me make you feel good too.”

“Today was for you, my sweet. Seeing you come undone did make me feel good.”

She tugged at his laces. “Let's make today about us. I want to.”

“There will be plenty of time for that another day.” He pulled her away from the wall, walked her to the center of the room, and spun her around. “This is the room where we will make our babies,” he added, trying to distract her.

She looked around the large room, a broad smile on her face. “We could start today. The wedding is soon enough.”

Loki laughed and shook his head. “When I make love to you for the first time, you will be my wife. And it will be in a bed, not up against a wall or on a bare floor. And it will not be hasty. I want to cherish you how you deserve to be honored.”

“Oh Loki,” She kissed him sweetly, “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetling.”

“You can set me down now, love.”

“Are you sure?”

She giggled, “No.” She kissed him deeply, pressing into his body and wiggling her bottom in his hands.

“Minx!” Loki laughed as he gently guided Sigyn’s bare feet back to the floor.

Still topless, she curtsied, “Apologies, Your Highness. Your presence makes me want to misbehave.”

He cupped her chin in his hand, “So it is my fault that you are so wanton?”

“Entirely.” She grinned up at him, but not before noticing the wet spot on the fabric of his trousers. A pang of guilt wracked through her. She stood and wrapped her arms around his waist. She started kissing his neck as he ran his large hands over the bare skin of her back. “I want to kiss you.”

Loki placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her mouth sweetly. She kissed him back briefly before whispering, “I want to kiss you, Loki.”

“You are kissing me, sweetling.”

“No, I want to kiss you here.” She moved her hand and stroked him through his trousers. Loki’s breath caught in his throat. She felt his cock stirring beneath her fingers. “Let me make you feel good too.”

He struggled internally; he felt greedy for wanting this. Her gentle fingers kept teasing his cock. “Ok,” he lamented, he unfastened his trousers, and his cock sprang forward, “Like this.” He guided her hand back to his length.

“But I want to taste you.” Sigyn pouted as she took him in hand.

Loki groaned, “Ah… there will be time for that another day. Just your hand today, sweetling. Mmmm… fair is fair. Oh…”

Her caresses were gentle, like a breeze on his skin. Her tender touch was thrilling. It was a stark contrast to the aggressive way he handled himself. She started slowly, savoring the way he felt in her hand, warm and heavy. She slowly increased her pace, enjoying the little sounds of pleasure he was making. Soon he was panting.

“You have the most beautiful cock I have ever seen. Look at you. So big and thick. I can barely get my hand around you.”

“Uh… uh… ah… S-Sigyn.” He had one hand on her shoulder, and the other was playing with her breast.

She stroked him with one hand and ran the other over his hip to squeeze his ass. “My Gods, Loki. I cannot wait to feel this inside me. Buried deep inside me. I wonder if I will be able to take it all.”

“Oh, ffffuck…S-Sig...” He started bucking his hips as she picked up her pace.

“You have never looked more handsome than you do right now. Lost in your pleasure. On the verge of making a mess in my hand.”

He released her breast, took her head in both hands and pulled her into a kiss. He kissed her urgently, desperately. She kept up her pace as Loki groaned into her mouth. She felt his cock throb in her hand before she felt a wet heat streak across her bare belly.

She grinned against his lips. “There you go. Well done, my love.” She eased her rhythm as Loki’s body shuddered beside her.

“You have a filthy little mouth on you, kitten.” He pulled back slightly to look at her.

“Oh, you have no idea.” She grinned up at him, her mischief dancing in her eyes. “I cannot wait until we do not have to sneak around to be alone. You will be so grateful that I have such a filthy little mouth.” She winked at him and squeezed his balls.

Surprised, he jumped a little as he stared at her in disbelief, “By the Norns, Sigyn… I never believed that I would ever meet my match. But here you are. Standing right in front of me with my manhood in your hands.”

Sigyn kissed him again and took a step back. “Can you please stop ogling and magic me clean, Your Highness?”

“Let me enjoy my handiwork first, woman.” he grinned. He stared at her half-naked body and the mess he left on her as he fastened his trousers. “Come here.” He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her as a shimmer of green light flowed over the both of them.

“Thank you, love.” Sigyn moved to pull her dress back up, but Loki stopped her.

“Do not be so hasty. Allow me to say a proper goodbye.” Sigyn laughed as Loki took both of her breasts in each hand again. “Until we meet again.” He kissed the right one and rubbed his thumb over her nipple. “Goodbye for now.” He kissed the left one and gave it a quick squeeze.

“You are too much,” she said as she pulled the dress back up and slid her arms into the straps. She returned to the bathroom to retrieve her shoes and adjust her breasts in her dress as she looked in the mirror. “Not a hair out of place.” She studied her reflection. “If you could teach me how to do that, it would save me so much time getting ready.”

Loki was tugging his tunic back on as he walked up behind her. “If you promise to spend all that extra time on me, I would be tempted to.” He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. They stared at each other’s reflections in the mirror.

Sigyn took a deep breath, “This apartment is way too big for just the two of us.”

“It will not be just the two of us forever. I don't know about you, but I do not like the idea of our babies down the hall in that dark old nursery.”

“Oh, Loki, I was thinking the same thing.” She turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You would be all right with them living here with us?”

“We certainly have the space for them here. If they sleep in their own cots and we keep our bed for just the two of us, nothing would make me happier.”

“You say that now. Have you ever spent time with a baby?”

“They are tiny and powerless. How hard could it be?” He shrugged.

Sigyn shook her head as she suppressed a laugh, “We had better get going.”

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XOXO - Rayne 💚

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[sentinelpri]

Of Pride & Conviction

Hermione Granger is beautiful.

It’s a fact that Draco Malfoy doesn’t mind admitting to himself. He didn’t mind admitting it to himself back then, either; back when they were in school together at Hogwarts. The real issue was getting him to say it out loud, which he never would. His pride held him back from doing the right thing, just like it always has. So, he was mean to her instead.

They’ve since graduated. It’s been about ten years. He still sees her regularly. She’s the Minister of Magic while he’s simply one of the aurors who serves her and the head auror, Harry Potter. It was admittedly worrying to have Hermione in charge of him at first, as it gave her ample opportunity to get revenge for all seven years of torment that he put her through, but for whatever reason, she chose to be merciful instead of taking advantage. Hermione treats Draco like any other employee of the Ministry of Magic. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does. 

Then again, there’s a lot of things that bother him about Hermione that shouldn’t bother him at all. For example; the fact that she’s engaged to marry Ronald Weasley, or the fact that he tries his best to get her attention with his work every day, and most importantly, the fact that he’s been in love with her since their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

There’s nothing he can do about it.

The two are stuck together in Hermione’s office, drafting some paperwork. Something about legislation to better the treatment of house elves… Or something. Draco doesn’t know. He hasn’t been paying enough attention to have any idea what’s going on. Hermione’s rambling, which he normally listens to rather intently when he gets to hear it, falls upon deaf ears. Hell, he doesn’t know why Hermione wanted his help in the first place, to be honest. He isn’t educated in legislation regarding magic, let alone house elves. He’s much less qualified than her to review such a matter. She should’ve picked Potter to be here, if anyone. But for some reason, he’s here instead.

Hermione’s office is about what you would expect. It’s clean and immaculate, a little bed for her cat in the corner and a large cage for her canary in the center of the room. While the orange cat she owns lies lazily in its bed, fast asleep, the bird is settled on a floating perch set up by the windowsill. The floors are made of dark wood and adorned with a gold and red rug, while the walls are painted crimson and lined with bookshelves that are stuffed to the brim with different magical texts. On Hermione's desk is a large lamp that bathes the room in an ambient warmth, as well as a framed picture of her, Weasley, and Potter. 

“So, what do you think?” Hermione asks, snapping the auror out of his daze.

Draco blinks.

“I, erm,” Draco catches himself before he can stammer too much, clearing his throat. He knows that Hermione is intelligent enough to see through his facades, but he makes an attempt regardless, lest he have to admit that he wasn’t listening to a thing she was saying. “I think it sounds good.”

“You weren’t listening to me at all, were you?” The brunette sighs and shoots him an exhausted glance.

Her big brown eyes pierce straight through him. Draco shifts uncomfortably where he stands by her desk. There’s a chair across from hers, but he’s never been comfortable enough in Hermione’s presence to sit with her in her office like they’re equals. They’re most certainly not, and it’s something he has to remind himself of frequently.

“I was not,” He confesses, steely eyes avoiding her coffee brown ones like they’re the plague. The first thing that catches his attention is her hands, which are intertwined with each other. Her elbows are resting on the desk. Something looks different, though, and he spends a few seconds trying to figure it out before it finally clicks. Hermione isn’t wearing the gold band with the large ruby stone that Weasley proposed to her with. Her engagement ring is gone, nowhere to be seen. Draco hopes that they’ve ended things, but he suspects that she’s not wearing it for a different reason. Perhaps she needed to get it resized or altered somehow, or maybe she decided not to wear it to work anymore in fear of it getting damaged. Hermione and Weasley have been together for more than a decade. There’s no way that they broke up… Right? “You’re not wearing your ring.”

“Well, Malfoy, I’m not engaged anymore. If I’m not engaged, I don’t need to be walking around wearing an engagement ring, now do I? I’d hate to give anyone the wrong idea,” The brunette says with a tight smile and a matter-of-fact tone. Draco’s heart drops and he’s not sure why. Hermione being single is an opportunity he’s fantasized about for a long time. Now that it’s happening, however, he’s struck with a pang of unshakable guilt. No wonder Hermione appears so exhausted; no wonder she’s asked for his help today. She probably figured he’d be the one person who wouldn’t care to ask about her personal life, as his romantic feelings have been the one thing he’s successfully hidden from her over the years. “Now, let’s start again. This law will require anyone who owns a house elf to only have them work a maximum of ten hours a day each day for five days a week and to pay them a minimum of two galleons per hour. House elves will be given a system where they can report any violations through aurors that will visit them once a week and ask them about their working conditions, and anyone who has a house elf that isn’t following these guidelines will have their privileges revoked if they’re found to be in violation more than twice.”

“I don’t think the board will pass that,” Draco sighs, though his mind is as far away as possible from house elf rights. His mind is on Hermione, who looks pale and tired and a little lighter than before- whose soft red dress is unusually wrinkled, whose hair appears unwashed and even more unkempt than usual. “People have been using house elves for centuries and no one is going to want that taken away or drastically changed. You should start smaller; a maximum of twelve hours instead of ten, seven days a week, at a galleon per hour.”

“That’s not-”

“I know, it’s not fair,” Draco cuts the minister off and rests a palm flat on the desk. He takes in a sharp breath through his nose. The room reeks of alpine and butterbeer, no doubt from the lit candles that line Hermione’s office shelves. “No one except for you cares about whether or not things are fair, Granger. Not everyone is as morally righteous as you. I guarantee you that ninety nine percent of the population doesn’t give a damn about house elves.”

“You-”

“I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just telling you that’s the truth. You can’t get everything you want all at once. Pass the altered version, then once that’s settled, give it some time and alter the law to make it however you want. People need time to adjust, and compromise is imperative.”

“Fine, I’ll amend it,” Hermione relents and casts a spell to erase the written words on the paper. Draco watches her start to rewrite them with steel grey eyes full of confusion and uncertainty. She doesn’t look okay. Why the hell is she working if she’s just gone through a break up with Weasley, her boyfriend of over a decade and close friend of nearly twenty years? “Thank you for your input.”

“Granger… Are you-?”

“Don’t,” Hermione insists with a pained look and a shake of her head. She won’t even look in his direction, pretending to focus on the magic legislation even though she stopped writing a solid thirty seconds ago. She sets her pen down and holds her head in her hands. Draco wants to reach out, to take her into his arms and make it all better, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t want her to snap and push him away like he knows she should were he to do such a thing. So, Draco stands there, frozen, unable to remove his eyes from Hermione’s now-shaking form. “Have a pleasant rest of your day, Malfoy.”

“You as well.”

With that, Draco nods and excuses himself.

‘What a day…’

~

When Draco goes to Hog’s Head Inn in the middle of Hogsmeade later that evening, he’s surprised to see no other than Hermione herself, sitting at the counter with a cheap-looking glass of butterbeer clasped between her delicate hands. She’s still in the same wrinkled dress that she wore in her office even though it’s freezing cold and disgustingly dry outside. The dress appears to have no tights underneath and is a simple short-sleeved garment. Though the Minister of Magic looks gorgeous in everything, Draco’s worried about it not being weather appropriate.

Most of the time, were he to see Hermione in public, he wouldn’t talk to her. One, he doesn’t think he deserves her attention or her affections. Two, he knows- or at least strongly suspects- that she’s smart enough to avoid any relationship with him outside of work after everything he’s done to her. Three, and arguably the most important thing, he has no idea what to do or say and doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself in front of Hermione, whose opinion matters more to him than life itself. Tonight is different, though. Hermione appears to be struggling for once and now that Draco has developed a conscience, he wants to help if he can.

So, he makes the approach. He walks to the counter at the bar, sits in the stool right next to Hermione’s, and looks over at her.

The engagement ring is still gone.

She doesn’t spare him a glance.

He talks to her anyway.

“Granger, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I can’t say I was expecting to be here tonight either,” The brunette sighs and shakes her head, seemingly at herself. Then, after what feels like forever, she looks at him. “What do you want from me, Malfoy?”

“...I don’t know,” Draco shrugs, unsure of what he wants as well. It’s understandable that Hermione would be frustrated with him. Still, he can’t help feeling somewhat bitter about it. “I’ll leave if my approach is that much of a bother to you.”

Draco starts to stand up from the stool, only for Hermione to put a hand on his shoulder and interject. Her touch on his clothed skin practically makes him shatter into tiny little pieces on the bar floor. 

“Wait, you can stay… If you don’t mind. I’ll even front you a drink. What would you like?”

“Hm,” Somewhat uncomfortably, Draco sits back down on the stool he was sitting in before. He struggles to keep his posture straight underneath the weight of his nagging anxiety about this whole Hermione thing. Lectures from his mother about how a ‘good Malfoy’ should sit up straight with their elbows off the table ring through his ears incessantly. “I suppose I’ll take a daisy root draught.”

“Very well,” Draco hums and dares to rest his elbows on the table. His eyes remain on Hermione, who awkwardly raises her hand to get the bartender’s attention so she can order for him. Draco isn’t sure how he feels about that. “One daisy root draught for this gentleman, please. Put it on my tab.”

“Thank you, Granger.”

“We’re not at work and we don’t despise each other anymore,” Hermione points out with a roll of her coffee brown eyes. Draco finds himself slouching a little. Apparently, even after all these years, Hermione has no issue calling him out. “Why do you still insist on addressing me by my surname?”

“It’s only fair,” Draco responds casually as the bartender serves him his daisy drought. He hadn’t thought about it before, but he figures calling Hermione by her last name is just another defense of his. If he keeps up all the walls of formality between them, she won’t be able to see his true feelings for her. “You address me by mine.”

“You’re not wrong,” Hermione sighs into her class of butterbeer and finishes it in one solid swig that makes Draco’s steely grey eyes widen.

The name thing bothers her more than Draco would’ve initially suspected. He can tell by the bright red dust that blooms like roses across her cheeks, by the downcast look she focuses on her empty drink. 

“Hermione,” Draco murmurs between sips of his daisy root drought. It’s a little sweeter than he usually prefers it to be, but he doesn’t complain. “You may call me Draco.”

“Okay then, Draco. Are you happy?”

“Are you?” Draco asks with a quirked brow, more in reference to her mental state following whatever happened with Weasley than anything. The offended glance he receives as an answer has him backtracking quickly. “Ah, never mind.”

“I should get going. I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?” Hermione’s voice wavers. She refuses to look at Draco any longer, simply standing, grabbing her brown purse, and slamming a handful of money on the table- more than enough to cover their tab and a decent tip. “I need you in my office again first thing in the morning.”

Briskly, Hermione walks away. Draco stands up so he can follow the witch and catch her by the wrist before she exits the building.

“Ah, wait, are you walking?” Draco asks and lets go.

Hermione looks back at the blond and answers.

“Well, yes. I’m not drunk, but I really prefer not to try and use magic when I’ve had even the slightest amount of alcohol.”

“It’s late,” Draco points out with his eyes flickering to the clock on the wall of the bar. It’s almost ten o’clock at night, and while Hermione is more than capable of taking care of herself, it’s freezing cold and there’s tons of people on the street. Draco doesn’t feel comfortable with her walking alone. “I’ll accompany you.”

“I don’t need that,” Hermione replies and exits the building with Draco following close behind.

“I know you don’t need it, per say, but I’m offering. Will you accept my offer or not? I don’t care either way,” He snaps even though he does care, a little impatient.

Hermione is just as prideful and just as stubborn as ever. Though unsurprising, it has the wizard disgruntled.

“I think you do care. I think you’d rather be with my company than without it, and I think you’re feigning indifference to protect yourself,” Hermione calls him out.                                                                                                                         

“Well, you’re thinking incorrectly and making baseless assumptions,” Draco tilts his nose up at the brunette as they start to walk in pace with each other, side by side, perhaps a little closer than two people who are merely co-workers should be.

“Is that any way to talk to your boss, Draco?” Hermione laughs, which has Draco looking at her with wide eyes. She’s never pulled rank on him like that. Before he can say anything, however, Hermione offers a dismissive wave and continues. “I’m just kidding. I’ll accept your offer.”

“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.”

“And I didn’t know you cared enough to walk me home.”

“It’s cold. For you to not wear another layer within your office is one thing, but it’s far too chilly out here for you to be in a short-sleeved dress and heels with nothing else,” Draco points out and shrugs his coat off of his shoulders. He’s cold, but he tries not to pay it any mind. He offers Hermione the heavy green garment. “Here. Take my coat.”

“I don’t need your coat. I feel just fine.”

“You won’t feel fine two days from now when you catch a cold, so take it. I’m not asking.”

“And what happens if I don’t meet your demand?”

“Nothing, really,” Draco responds, and to his surprise, Hermione takes his coat and slips it on over her body. It’s a little too big, but not ridiculously so, though it clashes with the dress she’s wearing quite horribly. He doesn’t mention that, instead furrowing his brows when Hermione suddenly stops in front of a home he doesn’t recognize. “Is this it? Did you move recently or- oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then…” Draco awkwardly trails off, standing just off the edge of Hermione’s porch. He watches her unlock her door. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Hermione.”

“You best.”

Draco turns, ready to go back to Malfoy Manor. Before he can get very far, however, he’s being grabbed by the wrist and whirled around. He’s chest to chest with no other than Hermione, who gently rests her hands on his face. 

They’re close. Too close. Despite the panic that ensues from the Minister of Magic holding his face like he’s made of some sort of fragile glass, Draco has a moment of clarity. Hermione, even with her know-it-all, temperamental nature, is bright and warm like the sun. She is what inspired him to become a better person, to live a life beyond the death eaters and the dark mark- beyond the fact that he’s a Malfoy. Hermione is nothing less than enlightenment itself, and Draco could not be more enamored by her. 

Obsessed with her.

In love with her.

Hermione’s touch melts the icy cold that has been nipping at his face since he left the bar at the same time that her lips adorn his with the taste of rich butterbeer. She’s kissing him. She’s kissing him in a way that’s soft and sweet, lips moving gently against his. Draco freezes initially. What if his breath is bad? What if his lips are too chapped? After a little too long, he decides he can’t throw this opportunity away. It’s fleeting. So, he wraps his arms around Hermione’s waist and tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Then, as fast as it starts, it ends. Hermione is pulling away and turning to go inside her home. Draco objects with an awkwardly outstretched hand. He wants to reach out for her desperately, to wrap his arms around her and pull her back.

“Wait, I-”

“Do you mind if I keep this for now?” Hermione questions in an unreadable, even tone that makes Draco think he might be going insane as she pulls at the coat on her small frame.

Did the kiss even happen, or did he just imagine it?

He licks his lips to remind himself of the taste of butterbeer and honey chapstick.

It was definitely real. Hermione Granger kissed him and is now choosing to pretend that it didn’t happen. For now, Draco follows suit.

He blinks, then answers.

“Not at all.”

“Alright, then. Thank you,” Hermione nods and takes a step back. Draco’s outstretched arm falls to his side. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Hermione…”

~~

The next morning, just as he was instructed to, Draco shows up in Hermione’s office. He isn’t sure what to expect. 

An apology? A love confession? A pink slip? 

None of it happens. When he walks in, Hermione looks better than ever, almost as if she hasn’t both suffered a terrible break up with her best friend and partner of over a decade, moved houses, and kissed her former enemy within the span of one week. She’s dressed in a striped pantsuit with her hair tied up and her face full of energy again. It’s almost as if none of it happened- the break up, the bar, Draco. If Draco hadn’t worked so hard to burn the image of what occurred between them last night into his occipital lobe, he would swear the whole thing was a dream based on the way Hermione is treating him- so nonchalant, almost as if it didn’t happen.

She dares to smile and invite Draco to sit across from her, but he doesn’t. He does what he’s used to and stands across from the Minister of Magic, twiddling with his thumbs. 

“So, today I need your help with-” Hermione starts, to which Draco cuts her off by placing his hands on the front of her desk and speaking.

“Are we not going to talk about what happened last night?” Draco demands.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione ignores his question and continues what she was trying to say before Draco interrupted.

“-this proposal I’m working on for the board of magic-”

Draco debates whether or not he should allow this to continue. On one hand, Hermione seems pretty determined not to talk about the kiss. On the other hand, Draco can be determined, too, and after a sleepless night resulting from what happened between the two of them, he’s determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Seriously, Granger- Hermione-”

“-for a new policy that will-”

“You kissed me,” Draco finally raises his voice- loud enough to make Hermione finally look him in the eye but not loud enough for anyone outside of her office to hear him. “Why in Merlin’s name did you kiss me?”

Hermione’s eyes flicker to the floor, then back up to Draco’s face. 

“Did it upset you?” She asks.

Draco blinks.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Did that offend you?”

“No, I’m just… Dumbfounded. Are we going to talk about this or not?”

“I suppose we can if it’s bothering you that much,” Hermione relents, then stands up from her chair so she can stand in front of Draco, just inches away.

“I have to ask this first, how long has it been since you and Ron separated? What even happened?”

“Six months,” Hermione states plainly, as if it doesn’t matter.

“Six months…!?” Draco manages to whisper out the words between the gasp that falls from between his lips.

Six months. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley have been broken up and separated for nine months, and somehow, Draco had no idea of that until now. For whatever reason, Hermione neglected to make it apparent until this week. Almost as if she’s reading his mind, Hermione explains.

“I’ve only made it known in the past couple weeks to anyone who wasn’t Harry or immediate family, so it’s understandable that you’re shocked, Draco, but as the Minister of Magic, I have a reputation to uphold. Breakups don’t look that great, so I was putting off the inevitable for as long as I could. Ron and I split mutually and amicably; he got the home we bought together, I took most of what was in our savings account since I’m the one who contributed the majority of it, and we went our separate ways.”

“But- but why? Everyone always said that you two were perfect-” Draco argues, to which Hermione interrupts once again.

“Well, we weren’t. He apparently needs someone less bossy, less stubborn… Less powerful,” Hermione murmurs. She leans back against the front of her desk and taps her fingers against the wooden surface. “And I need someone who can take care of my needs and listen to what I have to say without whining about it. We should’ve stayed friends, to be honest. I don’t have any ill will towards Ron, and he will always be a good friend, but we weren’t ever meant to be anything more than that.”

Draco doesn’t know what to say. He wanted to talk about the kiss initially. Now, he’s getting information about Hermione’s break up, too. Though he’s the one who asked about it in the first place, it’s proving to be overwhelming. He doesn’t know much about Ron or about their relationship struggles. Really, it’s not his business. He knows he shouldn’t ask anything else, but he doesn’t want to just stand there silently either.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then-

“I don’t know why I kissed you.”

Draco pauses. He isn’t sure of how to respond. He opens his mouth to speak, only for nothing to come out until he forces two words off of his tongue.

“You don’t?”

“Well, I suppose I do, logically. Part of me has always had a spark for you, and I think you feel the same way- you kissed me back, after all,” Hermione starts to ramble. “But back then, I couldn’t say anything. You were my childhood bully, it would’ve been humiliating to put my pride aside and tell you the truth, only to get rejected and made fun of. I didn’t think I had real feelings for you, anyway, I just assumed that I was so enthralled by you because you were forbidden and exciting, but even after all these years… I thought that the friendship Ron and I had was true, romantic love. I thought that you would never amount to more than a fling, even if I did act on the feelings I harbored for you. Somehow, though, with all this time that’s passed, Ron and I have fallen apart, and my feelings for you have only grown stronger.”

“So, you love me… And you’ve loved me for years,” Draco slowly talks as he puts the rest of the piece of this complicated puzzle together. Meanwhile, Hermione nervously paces around the office, walking circles around Draco. “And that’s why you kissed me last night.”

“I suppose that would be the case, yes.”

“I’m not just a rebound for Weasley?”

Hermione firmly shakes her head with a furrowed brow.

“Absolutely not.”

“Do you really not hate me?” Draco asks, just to be sure.

Hermione stops pacing to look Draco in the eye and shake her head once more.

“I don’t.”

“After everything I did to you, I don’t deserve your love. You should hate me,” Draco reminds her.

“I know, but I don’t.”

Admittedly, Draco is insecure, untrusting, and terrified. He expects to wake up from this dream any moment now. He expects for Hermione to laugh in his face and tell him that this is some sort of cruel scheme she’s concocted to get revenge for everything he did to her back when they were in school, that she never loved or even liked him, that she’s still engaged to Ron and doesn’t plan on changing that any time soon. He expects Hermione to get scared, change her mind about all of this, fire him, and demand that he never speak to her again. 

After all these years, Draco still expects Hermione to loathe him. Yet, she doesn’t.

“Would you not be embarrassed to be seen with me? Draco Malfoy, the vain, cruel, narcissistic, death eater, trust fund baby?”

“No, I wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with Draco Malfoy, who has changed quite a bit since he attended Hogwarts,” Hermione answers in a very matter-of-fact tone without so much as skipping a beat.

Draco gulps.

“Very well, then.”

“What does this mean for us?”

“As if I have any idea?”

“You seem much more sure of yourself in this situation than I am,” Hermione huffs and moves to sit on the front of her desk.

Draco, daring to be bold, takes a few steps forward and slowly takes Hermione’s hands in his. She doesn’t object- rather, she intertwines their fingers. Both of them stare at their locked hands, then at each other’s faces.

“Hermione, I don’t think you understand. I’m falling apart from the inside out right now at this- this idea that you could love me, that to you, I’m somehow lovable after everything I’ve done.”

“As prideful as you are, I thought you’d have more confidence in yourself,” Hermione says with a small chuckle.

“The pride is a shield. You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then let’s stop pretending.”

“Let’s.”

Draco lets out a sigh of relief. All of this- the kiss, today’s discussion, their laced fingers- it’s proof that this is very much real and that Hermione is genuine in these feelings that she has for him. He has so many more questions to ask, so much he wants to know.

“Is that why you’ve been calling me in here to help you with paperwork? Because you have feelings for me?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you worried about what people will think about you having moved on within weeks of making your break up known?”

“Of course. Just not worried enough, you might argue.”

“Certainly.”

“Where do we stand, then?” Hermione stares up at him, her coffee brown eyes burning into his steely grey.

“I think we should take things slow and keep this private considering your circumstances, but… Would it be wrong of me to say we’re officially dating now? Or is that too fast?”

Hermione just smiles.

“Not at all.”

Then, she’s kissing him again. This time around, it’s much warmer. Draco immediately allows himself to lean into it, whatever worries he may have about this chased away by Hermione’s lips molding into his.

[symphonic-scream]

Oh some more stuff for the queer au that has yet to gain a name!

The Quad apartment is large, like penthouse type shit. Ann pays for it for all of them, she's still. Very rich. She and Shiho share one room, Ryuji and Yusuke each have their own, and then. There's the closet room. It's a room that's just, a collective closet for everyone (mostly Ann) and where she takes her friends for makeovers

Hifumi ends up living with Makoto and Haru for a few years actually. She tries to offer to move out when they have their son but honestly, she's become family, and they ask her to stay, if only to help cover the shop while Haru recovers

After 2 years, Sae Niijima even offers their last name to Hifumi. A "third sister", Makoto claims when they go through with it

Ryuji and Makoto work out together! They're gym buddies! Runs every other morning, gym on the others- it happened once as Ryuji trying to find a way to bond with "Akira's new friend" and it caught on. Makoto runs every morning with Johanna anyways, but she finds it to be much more fun with Ryuji

Yusuke always invites the whole group when he gets a painting in a gallery or something like that. Ann gets everyone dressed up, and it's a whole thing. They then hit up crossroads, where most get drunker than they should, with everyone crashing at the nearest place

Haru always smells like fresh bread and coffee, and she wakes up at dawn to get started on the bakery side of her business. She's crawling back into bed just as Makoto's leaving for a nap, and wakes up just after the lunch rush to work until close. Then she and Makoto have dinner with Hifumi, head to bed, and it all starts again. She's hired a few college students and even two high schoolers, though she promotes one of her workers to manager when she has her son

Grease monkey Makoto! She does her own repairs to her motorcycle, does all the upkeep, all that. She has a pair of coveralls she wears that are stained from oil, but she's been working on her bike since she graduated high school, it's her passion project

Yusuke has a little cactus he's had since he began transitioning! It was his mother's favourite plant, and he hopes to keep it alive with him as long as possible

Futaba's room is like. Half of it is monitors, her gamer chair, light up keyboards and mousepads with some busty anime woman on them (Futaba is asexual in this! She just. The irony is amusing to her). Then she has her mattress on the ground, with bookshelves filled with manga and figures

On a different note- ahem. Yes I am team Ryuji ADHD, but also- ADHD Makoto. Inattentive presenting, really. She found out after graduating, working as an assistant to a counselor and stuff, and. Listening to him talk to one of his patients made it click for her

"Baby I think I, might have what Ryuji has"

"oh, yes. Are you only finding out now? I'm sorry but you two talk in code when you're together"

I have many thoughts and feelings about this au but most importantly it needs a name, please help me out I can't think of one

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 4

Part 1 | Part  3 | Part 5 | Full list of Again series links inc AO3 Link

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock

Thank you to @callme-keys for all their help with this 💚💚💚

================================================

Two weeks later, Steve is pulling up to the library again. However, this time his and Zee’s (the new name change Mackenzie has adopted) emotions are totally reversed. It's Steve, who is nervous and in need of reassurance, and Zee, who is excited by the prospect of something new. Entering the same room as last week, it looks mostly the same, with three long tables with five seats around each one and a suitable amount of space between them. Steve’s eyes scan around the room. They were the first ones here. Some polo-shirted kids from last week are the only people wandering around.

“Ok then, Dad, see you later.” Zee smiles up at Steve and looks over to the door again.

Steve looks at her, surprised, “You, er, you want us to leave? You don't want me to stay like last time?” he folds his arms, desperately using them to cage in his disappointment.

“Well, like you said. Eddie will be here. I’ll be fine.” She tilts her head and gives him a warm smile, “Besides, what are you gonna do here for the next few hours?”

“Yeah, Harrington. Whatever will you do for the next few hours whilst your daughter embarks upon an adventure of the most incredibly dangerous proportions?” A voice rumbles playfully from behind him. Steve turns a little to open up their circle of conversation to him. He doesn't think he’s been this relieved to see Eddie since they found him at Skull Rock all those years ago, and it must show because Eddie scans his face offering the sweetest smile in return. For a few seconds, time sort of pauses, and something shifts within him. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it again because the sounds have got lost somewhere.

"Well", Eddie springs from living statue into action as he grabs for the backpack behind him, "I thought maybe you could help me out. Can the great King Harrington wield a paintbrush?"

Eddie pushes the backpack towards Steve and gestures with his head to the bookshelves behind him, "I set us up a table out of the way. You know, so we don't cramp their style."

“King Harrington?” Zee laughs at the impossibility of Steve ever being anything more than a massive dork of a Dad.

Steve can see that face of mischief bloom on Eddie. His wide eyes dart to the side at Zee, the excitable smile tensing on his face, and his cheeks suck in a little. Steve’s memory throws him back in time, standing next to Eddie, draped in his vest. He was the centre of attention, being the answer to everyone’s prayers in Max’s Trailer before they were about to steal someone’s vehicle and home. The face was exactly the same, just a few more creases here and there, and Steve couldn't help but feel how privileged he was getting to see Eddie’s wrinkles, something, at one point, no one thought would happen.

“You don’t know about the great King of Hawkins High?” Eddie rubs his hands together and giggles, and Steve knows he should absolutely put a stop to this, but then the penny that Eddie’s suggestion was embossed in drops, and Steve finally realises.

"Wait…what? You aren't running the game?...you won't be in the game?" Steve blinks rapidly at Eddie

"Just take the bag, Steve", Eddie laughs gently, nudging him with the bag again. Steve looks between Eddie and Zee before, unwillingly, his body walks through the shelves to a smaller table. Steve selects a chair that means he isn't directly looking at the game table Zee has sat at, but if he cranes his neck, he can see her clearly. He tests it out and sees her sit at the table with her book and binder. She was chatting with some of the boys around the table, but most importantly, she was wearing that big smile. That might be Steve’s favourite thing he shares with his daughter. It's much easier to read a smile when it's your own. The shape of her eyes, nose and face were all her Mom. But that smile, eye colour and hair were all like his. 

He leans back in his chair, takes his cell phone out of his pocket, checks the battery level, and puts it on the table where he can see it. His fingers tap on the table a few times, and then he quickly reaches for his phone again and straightens it a little before folding his arms for a few seconds only to unfold them again. He puts the bag Eddie gave him on the table. It's got some weight to it. Steve wonders what kind of paints they’d be, oil, watercolour, maybe even acrylics. Was it even safe to have paint in a library? When would something as simple as potential destruction stop Eddie from doing anything? What would they even paint? Maybe there were some photography books around here? Steve looks around at the bookshelf behind him. FICTION, well, so much for that idea.  His eyes get drawn to a lower row with brightly coloured spines, and he picks one up. A Firey Baptism, the protective cover of the book, has a white piece of card where the cover should be, making Steve frown at the book. Do they keep damaged books here? Weird. Steve opens the book at random and starts reading. He’s a few paragraphs in when it suddenly dawns on him that the reason this book had something covering the front was that it was one of those romance novels, a spicy one.

“Getting some pages in, Harrington”, Eddie's voice rings out. In alarm and embarrassment, Steve throws the book in the air behind him, and it softly bumps to the floor on the other side of the bookshelf. Steve is glad that some poor soul hadn't been standing there when he threw it.

“Really, Eddie?” Steve says in disbelief, but primarily to hide his blushes. “You sat us in the Erotic fiction section?”. Steve licks his lips, then presses them together in annoyance and takes a frustrated deep breath at Eddie, who only offers an impish smile in return.

“Now, Steve, all I did was choose a table where you could keep an eye on your kid. Also, I thought this was the Romance section. You just got lucky with your pick. I guess” He chuckles and sits in the seat next to Steve, who, despite his years, is blushing. “Also, keep your voice down. A library is a hallowed place of learning, Harrington, the kids might hear. Speaking of kids, where is the little chatterbox?”

“Oh, Corey? He’s at a birthday party, so it's just Zee and me today,” Steve says, straightening his phone again and craning his neck again to check the game table. The mistimed movement makes him bump into Eddie’s side, who is out of his chair leaning across the table, taking other smaller containers out of the backpack. The accidental collision causes the air between them to fill with a waft of whatever Eddie has on today. Steve thinks it might be a body spray of some kind, and for a second there, it is quite a head rush. Steve’s eyes can’t help but move over Eddie whilst he has a chance. Eddie is still very lean for the most part, but he’s more toned now, not just sinewy. He is the same height as Steve, but Eddie has always seemed smaller than him in the past. His eyes move up to his side profile. The longest part of the front of his hair grazed his jawline, but from this angle, the back had a bit more length. The swirling tendrils spilt down the nape of his neck and rested on his collar. The bangs were gone. In their place, a curl-packed side parting, the waves that used to travel down to the ends of his hair were more like curls, and the volume had increased somehow. How could someone have less hair but have more? It made no sense. Steve’s hand instinctively runs through the side of his hair where he’d found his first grey hair a month ago, and he looks down at the little bulge of softness developing where his defined abs used to be.

“You ok, Harrington?” He finally hears Eddie say and turns to him with a few blinks as he arrives back into the real world and out of his thoughts. Eddie looks over his face, smiles, and nods his head downwards, “I’m guessing you didn't hear anything I just said?”

“No, Sorry”, Steve stops himself from saying, That happens sometimes. This was only the second time he’d seen Eddie in forever, and though he wasn't strictly speaking a stranger, he kind of was. 

“Hey, no worries. I do tend to talk a lot. It would be inhuman if you managed to take all of that in” Eddie laughs at his self-deprecation, “Anyway, I was saying that the activity I planned might look a little weird now without Corey with us.”

Steve pulls a confused face at Eddie, who tucks his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment, before quickly picking something up from the table in front of them.

It's a character figure, no taller than Steve's thumb, he looks at Eddie for assistance, and then his eyes catch the small army of them lying in boxes in what looks like foam packaging. Steve gets out of his seat a little to inspect further. Each figure has its own little cutout space in a chunk of foam that it fits into precisely, another thinner piece laid horizontally across them like they've been tucked into bed. Each one has two names and a date stuck to it. Steve lets out a little laugh. Incredibly, a man who lived in chaos, listened to music that sounded like chaos and was usually the centre of generating chaos had something as organised and careful as this in his possession.

"Why do you have so many? Are you, um…is it an army…like a war game thing? I've seen them in hobby and gaming shops sometimes." Steve knows he could have just asked Eddie why there were so many, but part of him wanted to show he wasn't totally ignorant of these kinds of interests.

"You-...ah…you know about, like, wargames?" Eddie stumbles over his words a little, blinks at Steve and swallows.

"Know is a bit of a stretch. I've just read the boxes, honestly. So is that what we're painting? Eddie Munson's army?" Steve's own brand of teasing smirk spreads across his face, and he fires it directly at Eddie.

The dimples puncture Eddie's subtlely stubbled cheeks, and he casts his eyes down to the figure in his hand and says softly, "Well, yes and no. It's not for a game like that, but they will be used in combat." He nods his head towards the main tables in the room. 

Steve's eyes cast over the many boxes, and he wonders how many monsters there are in this game, but then his eyes look more closely at the character in Eddie's hand. Something about the pose of the thing shouts hero into Steve's mind.

"Wait, these aren't all the kids' characters?" Steve says, almost with a huff of disbelief.

Eddie shifts awkwardly in his chair and looks back to the character, "So, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me with the base coats? I already primed them all…." And Eddie continues to talk. His hands gestured at little pots around the table. The base of the mini figure is still held between his thumb and forefinger as he does. Steve is trying to listen, truly, but his brain just puts a soft filter lens over the scene and cuts the sound for some gentle instrumental piano music. Steve feels himself involuntarily lean onto the table and rests his cheek on his fist. Where did they make him? Why was he so fucking sweet? After everything he'd been through his whole life, he took the time to make sure all the kids had a figure of their hero. He was crazy. He must be. Who does this? He probably did this for his own kids and decided to do it for the others too. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie with kids. Steve had caught a glimpse of it in a few of his interactions with kids here and his own, and he remembers Dustin telling him how tough High school was, and Eddie had been the one person to be nice to him and Mike. He looks at Eddie's left hand; the only one of his fingers without a ring is the one where a wedding band should be. Steve sits up and looks at his own hands, devoid of any jewellery.

Sound and vision wash back into Steve's mind. "Sorry, I'm talking too much again, right? Probably boring you to death. Er…anyway, here are some paintbrushes for you." Eddie hands steve a set of 3 of the thinnest paintbrushes he’s ever seen and then proceeds to press a cup with a suction cup on the bottom onto the table, filling it with water from an Evian bottle. “Only the best for us today, Steve”, Eddie remarks, putting the bottle away.

Steve laughs, causing a big smile to spread across Eddie’s face, “I’m guessing this proves my suspicion that painting in a library isn’t allowed?”

Eddie tries to look as innocent as possible, trying to hold back the full intensity of his smile, “I can’t imagine what you could possibly mean!”

“Ah, the fact that you could have just got some tap water from the bathroom, but that would mean walking past one of the librarians with a cup of water? Maybe that's what I mean.” Steve laughs, “Do you just see a list of do-nots and mentally make them a to-do list, Eddie?”

Eddie's face looks a little smug, “Depends who’s on the list, I guess.”

Steve is not ready for that one and immediately straightens his paintbrushes to line up neatly next to one another.

"Shit, sorry man. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I gotta dumb sense of humour sometimes, you know?" He makes all the right moves and sounds of a nose laugh, but Steve can detect the genuine concern behind it.

"I'm not uncomfortable", Steve lies with a well-practised, everything-is-just-dandy smile for Eddie, but by the time he’s turned his way, Eddie is already scanning him with those big brown lie detectors he calls his eyes.

Eddie's brow furrows a little, and he gives a half smile, "Yeah. Course not", and reaches for one of the foam squares out of the tub. He takes the figure out and places it on the table, revealing a piece of paper with a sketch of the character that indicates what colours should go where, "So, um, I've planned each one, and all of the paints are numbered, sometimes the names are a little weird, and I thought that might be a level of geek too far for you, maybe."

"Yeah, I think that ship sailed quite a number of years ago. I'm not gunning for your King of The Nerds crown, but I am versed in the basics of Geek, by osmosis or something," Steve says fondly. He only learned all these phrases because of his kids. Steve cranes his neck to look over at the game. He can see Zee staring intently at someone at the head of the table, her pencil scribbling away on her pad before her eyebrows raise in surprise, and he can see her consulting the other players on something. Steve shifts his seat a little to see who is at the head of the table. He sees the familiar cardboard screen that he saw when her old group played at their house. Looming over this one is a sleeveless shirt wearing Morgan. He seems to be a lot more articulate now. Talking animatedly with his hands, virtually climbing onto the table, and dramatic expressions on his face, he's creating a world where the players around the table hang on his every word. Something about his energy is familiar…Fuck, is he Eddie's kid??! Now Steve feels like a real asshole. He didn't look like him at all, but the mannerisms were there. Donating genes doesn't make you someone's Dad, though. Steve knew that only too well.

[missbumbleb33]

Unforeseen and Unconditional Sacrifices: Chapter 1, Defying Expectations

"Good evening, 47."

Diana's usual voice chimed in the agent's ear. 

“I must say, I’m relieved that our target is living in such a congested city like Brooklyn. Makes it much easier for me to find viable network connections for our devices.”

He noted his environment. The outdoors exposed nothing especially noteworthy—a typical scene in a non-romanticized urban life. The dark sky barely illuminated anything around, the moon hazy and the stars nonexistent. Dirty posters of community events fluttered with the cool autumn air like tumbleweed. The sight contrasted coldly with what seemed to go on inside the target's home. The warm scene, viewed through the was illuminated by lamplights and veiled thinly by dark figures, not yet able to be identified completely. Perhaps what could've been a figment of the little match girl's imagination. Though knowing his usual marks, he understood that his target wouldn't be one to make such a dream come true, even with all the power they may have in the world. An old poster caught onto his shoe, struggling against the weak breeze. 

“Angel does it again by writing and directing The Peach Kingdom ! Available in theaters-”

The agent released his foot on the poster, letting it take its course. Coincidental enough, his target indeed was the acclaimed playwright Angel. 

Well, the upper crust understood her as ‘Daisy Bennett’, anyway. He wasn’t sure if that name was entirely hers anymore. Lawrence Bennett, former business tycoon and her late husband, had died just a few days ago. More importantly he was also a member of Providence, which made Daisy a high suspect for his successor. 

It was the whole point of the mission in the first place. 

47 noted the security guards posted at the front door, though this turned out not to be an issue. After scoping the perimeter, he found an open window that led to an open bathroom. He realized the vague stench in the air once he climbed through, though he wouldn’t be an assassin at all if he were bothered by such things. The strings of uncontrolled events have allowed this opportunity, and he was thankful for it, in his own way. Almost similar to how the leopard would find gratitude when approaching a calf strayed from its herd. The townhouse was much smaller than the past missions he's been dispatched to, which meant it would be harder to remain unnoticed.

The walls were lined with frames of all different shapes and sizes. Most were occupied with various works of art. Some, however, were left empty. 

"I must say, it's quite rare for anonymous public figures to have such a meticulously maintained incognito status. Of course, that didn't stop me from finding out bits of her history--hardly textbook, though I suppose that's the case with all anonymous targets. It’s a bit suspicious that any trace of her visuals has been wiped clean. Especially with an... innocent alias." 

He stepped into the lounge. The agent fit in well with the mild crowd—though it was a bit odd that a presumably young woman would throw a formal party for middle-aged individuals. The area itself was stylishly cluttered so that one may feel rather claustrophobic even without the people. He took note of the chandelier made of barbed wires and mason jars.

Barely heavy enough for pacification. Not worth it. He sauntered over towards the bookshelves, aiming to blend in as a guest. He leafed through the texts, its flaxen pages scratching against his gloved hand. 

"She's a flower in a greenhouse at best, based upon what’s written on her records.  It's likely she's only a puppet of Providence—From what I note she barely has any business experience other than nonprofit collaborations. Nevertheless, I expect this to be an easy mission-" 47's eyebrows knitted faintly as Diana's voice cut to static. ICA equipment typically wasn't subject to trivial network issues, especially in such an urban area. 

"Mic check, one, two, three..." The foreign voice was soft against his ear. His suspicions were confirmed. 

"Well. You're here for me, right? I suppose I can't fight with that. You might have to get a bit more creative to reach me, though." The voice said. "After all, angels don't take kindly to sinners."

He offered silence as an answer. He wasn’t a man of small talk. She didn’t seem to mind, though, as she talked right on. 

“A bit of a low move to try and kill a widow at her husband’s funeral, don’t you think?” He detected the slightest echo in the earpiece’s noise relay. He slid the book back in its spot and slunked around the ground floor of the apartment. Unless this apartment had a basement he didn't see from the blueprints, his target had to be located in some sort of bathroom.

“Speaking of Lawrence, I believe he’s talked about you once.” 

‘How so?’ She paused as if he’d actually asked the question. 

“Yeah, I believe he mentioned some creep who preys on trophy wives. Trying to fulfill some sort of messed up fantasy, y'know?"

47 could feel the shit-eating grin through the earpiece. 

The only other bathroom was occupied by an elderly woman fixing her makeup who had jeered at 47 when he barged in. 

“Goodness sake, don’t you know how to knock?!”

‘Voices don’t match. Turn back at once, agent.’ Angel’s giggle drummed against his ear as he returned back out the hallway. 

“Gotta choose one, dude. Can't be an old lady perv AND a professional hitman, can we?" She tut her tongue.

He approached the staircase, guarded by security. The man blocked his entrance, extending his palm out towards him. 

"Sorry sir. Friends and family of the widowed only. Do you have anything to prove your relation to the madam?" 

A prerequisite was expected, though unfortunately 47 didn't prepare for the question. He held one hand to his ear to muffle the earpiece's mic.

"I must have left my cell phone in the parlor. I'll return soon." His tone was stoic as ever. Still, the average person failed to be keen enough to garner enough suspicion from it to actually do something against him. He walked out of sight from the bouncer, instead opting to head towards a less occupied direction. 

Though it took the risk of sauntering through a catering-occupied kitchen (taking off his suit jacket provided a rough disguise through the busy area), he found the room he was looking for. The utility closet was cooped with laundry devices, pipes, and general items you wouldn’t want to boast to your guests. 47 only cared for the fusebox, however, as he shot the locked case open with his silverballer. A small, cardboard box fell over and spilt its contents upon the bullet’s contact on metal. 

A copy of Lawrence Bennett’s death certificate, a velvet capsule containing both a golden band and a diamond ring, various receipts dating back to 2001, and other puzzle pieces 47 could not put together. One of these was a wedding photo of a man at the cusp of his elderly stage and a much younger woman. Though he had never caught sight of her before, he could recognize her instantly.

Daisy Bennett.

She appeared much different from what he had expected. The East Asian woman did not carry the air of riches and assumed power most of his targets had. In fact, the figure could be better labelled as a girl rather than a full-fledged woman, despite her form-fitting dress and mature makeup. Her expression read stoic and indifferent, yet her white-knuckle grip on the bouquet told otherwise. The agent’s arctic eyes softened ever so slightly. The entirety of her reminded the agent of-

Victoria. She reminds me of Victoria. 

The backside of the photo revealed pencil scratchings in flighty penmanship. 

June 18th, 2004

There is no turning back

on a social contract. .

“Don’t tell me you’ve given up already.” the voice teased. 

47 gingerly placed his findings inside his sleeves for safe keeping. 

“Trust me. I’ll find you.” He replied, before throwing his earpiece into the washing machine. He flicked off the knobs on the fuse panel that powered the second floor, and prompted the washer to run before leaving the room. 

As expected, the guard had taken off to figure out the source of the growing complaints. Knowing he wouldn’t be gone from his post forever, 47 slipped through the unsuspecting folk and climbed up the stairs. 

The area he had stumbled into held a different atmosphere compared to what went on downstairs. A much more youthful set of guests were in attendance. In fact, hardly anyone 47 saw were around his own age. He never thought much about it anyway. As his health assessment in Hokkaido indicated, his age was simply chronological. It was sure enough, however, that the witnessed demographic hadn’t experienced any wrinkles upon their skin as of yet. This fact became even more clear as the lights returned to illuminate the floor. 

“Hey, man!” 47 turned to face the stranger. The fellow pushed his frames up his nose, to which the agent realized had no lens inside of them. 

“Guess there was a bit of a power outage, huh?” He chuckled casually. The agent offered a curt nod. 

“So, I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a friend of Angel’s?” 

“I’ve worked with her.” 

“Associate, huh? Gotcha. Yeah, I’ve been on the writing team for one of her musicals. Have you watched Eau de Toilette before?”

“No.”

“Cool,  cool…” the man scratched his arm and looked down at his loafers, before talking again. “Pretty sad what happened to Angel’s husband. I’m not even married yet, but I really wouldn’t know what I’d do if my partner just stopped existing…”

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” 

“Oh! Yeah!” He gestured towards the door secluded at the end of the hallway. “I think Angel is using it right now, though-” 

47 didn’t wait around to make more small talk, as he ambled straight towards his goal. 

Sure enough, a figure of long hair worked at a laptop balanced on a sink. The agent seemed to be too eager to finish the mission, however, as when the body hit the bath tiles after pacification he realized the figure had a mustache. He dragged the body into the tub and dragged the curtains shut, before checking out his screen. Sure enough, there was evidence that the man had hacked into the ICA device and overridden the control panel for the earpiece. 47 disabled the program used, allowing Diana to connect back onto the devices. The earpiece had to be disposed of, but at the very least the handler would be able to watch his surroundings through the hidden camera. 

The man’s phone lit up with a notification. 

VINMO: SH has sent you $850.00 with a memo!

💻 🦾

As he pocketed the device, 47 noticed a cool breeze coming from the open window. A small figure in the distance seemed to stare up at him, before disappearing down a corner. 

The agent shimmied down the adjacent pipe and took off towards them. 

He found himself in the midst of a quiet shopping district. Most of the establishments were closed until sunrise, and places that were open remained few. 

The dimly lit bars and lounges did not host any clients that matched his target. He stepped out of the nearly empty tattoo parlor, racking his head on where she might have gone. Brooklyn was a large city. She could be hopping from one place to another, or have gotten out of town altogether. Hell, with the sort of money she would have inherited from her late husband she could be on an airplane right now, going to who knows where. 

As 47 thought of his next course of action, the hacker's phone lit up with another notification. 

One text from: SH

"Hey, you alright?"

The agent skimmed their past conversations, before responding. 

"yuppers. wbu?"

"A lil stressed. All good tho lol"

"dw. anything else u need me to do"

"If you could tell Molly how much I appreciate her that would be amazing🥺 also I think I may have lost her keys😭"

"lmfao gotcha"

47 scrolled through the stranger's contact list, filtering through the "M" section. He soon found the "Molly" he was looking for and filtered through their conversations. 

"Thanks so much for the website update! Looks amazing."

"had to. circlespace doesnt have the best UI imo. changed your url too"

He pressed the embedded link, bringing him to a website for a stationery shop. Keeping the provided address in mind, he sauntered briskly towards the building he was looking for. As soon as he saw the darkened store he cut into its alley. He didn't have to shoot the lock this time. The target's missing key was still stuck into the knob. 

The warmer air greeted him softly as he stepped inside the seemingly empty store. The streetlights outside barely irradiated the floor. The darkness proved to be helpful, however, as 47 easily noticed the light under the door beyond the shelves of writing utensils. 

He didn't make it halfway until he felt something cold against the back of his head. 

"Hey, you creep."

He recognized the voice.

"Daisy Bennett."

"You'd know that's not my name."

"What else should I be calling you?"

She pressed the gun against his skull. 

"I don't think it matters anymore."

Despite her calm demeanor, 47 could feel her rapid pulse through the vibrations of metal tapping against his skin. His mind ran through different routes he could go about this situation. 

"You'll hear my name in court, anyway." She spoke with an effort for confidence.

Turns out he didn't have to worry about a headshot, after all. 

"You're the one threatening me with a firearm."

"This is self-defense. You've left me no choice." She took a deep breath. The agent felt her heartbeat slow ever so slightly. "Who hired you? One of Lawrence's children? Lafayette Productions? Providence ?"

"It's unlikely such an organization would kill off their newest associate."

"IS THAT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT?!" She roared. Her pulse spiked, and he could practically see her hand tensing up around the grip. 

It was his turn to strike. He flipped around with the intention of knocking her to the ground. 

"I'm not part of that STUPID allia-" she choked on her words as she felt herself off balance, dropping the pistol to the ground. 

47 had made a mistake. 

He haphazardly extended his hand towards her waist and spun her around. His body crashed into the shelf behind him, pouring the hundreds of pens and pencils onto the ground with a giant crash. The woman's forehead smacked against his chin, though he couldn't focus on any sort of pain at the moment. 

It was silent for a while.

The former target remained frozen in his arms, until he tapped her arm to get up. She rose quickly and straightened out her shirt, before offering a hand to help him up. The agent ignored it as he stood up himself. Aside from the mess their collapse had made, both seemed to be largely uninjured. 

The woman rubbed her forehead. 

"Are you alright?" She asked. 

"I'm fine."

Another moment of silence. 

"You better help me clean up."

The evening turned to night as the store’s digital clock struck 12. The agent reassembled the broken shelf, and his former target cleaned up the broken products and picked up the usable remnants. They worked without talking, with the occasional laughter and passing conversation interrupting their otherwise consistent quietness.

"It's Sarang, by the way." Sarang broke the still air. 47 looked up from the ground to face her, his hands working diligently without his attention. He recognized its meaning. 

"Is Daisy from The Great Gatsby ?"

She shrugged. 

"It was his favorite novel growing up, apparently." Her voice softened. 

47 left his portion of the compensation by the cash register, along with Molly’s key.

Next Chapter

[zeloinator]

Oohh, shipping trope #7, #18 and and #38 please!

THANK YOU SK MUCH!!!! These asks are sooo fun to do!!!

7. Polyamory or Monogamy?

I lean more towards Polyamory than monogamy! But also I love writing both because they both create such wonderful dynamics that are soooooo fun to explore!!

18. Who confessed?

With Sadu and Zee, Sadu confessed first! After the Nadaam, during which Sadu fell in love with Zee, she confesses to Zee once theyre away from others but makes sure to rub it in Magnai’s face soon after she has her answer (of yes)~

38. Describe their ideal home.

Ooooo this is a tough one!! For Sadu Zee and Erenville their ideal home would be somewhere in between them all, a large (in-game) house so when others need to stay there are plenty of rooms for them (Ell and Hilda often will spend time in the house, Love Bird and Sidguru not so much after they get a small house in Ishguard to help there when they are needed)! Inside there would be lots of plants and lots of windows to let light in, a mix of Steppe and Sharlyan furniture and decor, a big bathroom with a big tub so Zee can soak in the hot water to help her aching muscles and help with any phantom limb syndrome Zee is experiencing with her arm or leg stumps. A place that is meant to heal and rest and relax, and most importantly a place where Zee is NOT the warrior of light but where her party members and her can be just themselves and recuperate from the stress and pain of fighting.

Erenville, Sadu, and Zee’s bedroom would be spacious, easily maneuverable in a wheelchair when Zee wants to be prosthetic free. Plants everywhere again, lots of color, and several bookshelves with a cozy reading nook to cozy together. Their big bathroom attached to it so they can have privacy all together. The room is bright and cozy, somewhere where all 3 feel completely at home~

Love Bird and Sidguru’s room is decorated in a mix of Ishguard and Viera-n type furniture, a room for Rielle connected to theirs with a door locked on her side to let her have her own space but also so she can open that door when she wants/needs. Love Bird and Zee take Rielle shopping for her decor and furniture, wanting to make it a home away from home when her dads are needed, so she doesn’t have to stay in their Ishguard home by herself but still feel completely comfortable in a space of her own! Sidguru let Love Bird decorate their room, Love taking his husband’s tastes into account with low lighting while still making the room be a sanctuary away from their own home. While not as many plants as in the common areas of the house, Love Bird decorates with foliage and several vases of flowers which he grows himself (when not busy working with Zee or helping out in Ishguard or Old Sharlyan). The mix of foliage and the stonework details make the room a perfect cozy spot for the couple. Their bathroom is shared with Rielle but it has a good amount of room so the 3 share it without any issues.

Ell and Hilda’s room is decorated in Ishguard style as well, having a medium sized workshop attached so Ell can do any and all repairs needed, as well as craft most of her prosthetics and mobility aids, needing to visit Old Sharlyan to do some of the more advanced magic infusions. Hilda has a little desk corner that she uses to help plan things for Ishguard and the Brume specifically, often times she and Sidguru will work together when theyre both at the house and leaving on their projects together. While Ell is busy traveling with Zee Hilda will take little ‘vacations’ to the house to relax, and to help keep it in order (with the help of others staying of course) while the party is away. Hilda and Rielle spending time together quite often this way, Hilda becoming like an Aunt to Rielle fairly quick. Zee decorated the room for them when both Ell and Hilda expressed disinterest in splitting their time between their work and having to decorate their own space. If you ask them both they would say she did perfectly, making a calm environment that can also be used for their ever busy work! Their bathroom is much smaller compared to Love Bird, Sidguru, and Rielle’s but big enough to have a large hot bathtub for relaxing together in.

The scions each have their own rooms as well, Zee offering to decorate or buy/make the furniture they’d like for their spaces. Several taking up Zee’s offer to decorate (Thancred, Alphinaud, Estinien, and Y’Shtola) but the rest wanting to make their space up themselves!

I only have made Ell and Love Bird who are canon party members to Zee in her Warrior of Light business, often working with the scions as well, though never becoming an official scion. But Zee has a full party of non-scions she works with, I just haven’t made the 5 others just yet! But they all have rooms in Erenville, Sadu, and Zee’s house!

Shipping ask meme!

[nymphassociationheadquarters]

Nymph Association's Researches and Adventures Episode 1

The sun is up in the sky over Snowbelle City in the Kalos region, emitting its light in a way that makes it seem like the snow on the ground and trees is shining.

I come out of my house... and almost slip because of the ice on the ground.

- Goddam- I may have been living here my whole life, I'll never get used to this. Who decided that opening a Gym that emits air so cold the whole city is constantly snowy was a good idea, anyway ?

My name is Oceane, 19 years old. And today, I'm making one of the biggest steps towards my goal. I do not wish to become a Pokemon Master, nor to complete that god awful Pokedex.

Partially because I am in fact against the use of Poke Balls.

I don't like the fact that it not only forcefully makes Pokemon docile, but most importantly, I hate the fact that Poke Balls are powered by Pokemon Life Force.

I want to fight against that, as draining Pokemon Life Force is an horribly painful process that can lead to the Pokemon's death if taken too far, and that big companies like the Devon Corp. and Silph Corp. still use it on a daily basis.

And so I spent most of my life studying at Santalune City's school, learning about Pokemon in order to try and find something that could help me fight against the use of Pokemon Life Force.

At this point, I'm a living Pokedex, I know a lot of Pokemon's typings habits and habitats by memory, though I'm bad at remembering basically everything else.

And recently, I've heard about a group located in Canalave City in Sinnoh called the Nymph Association (or Nymph Asso. for short), that claims to want to stop the use of Pokemon Life Force, just like I do.

I messaged them, and after a while of online chatting, the founder of the association, Selio, offered me a place in their group. So now, I'm ready to leave my hometown Snowbelle City.

Well, ready is a bit of an exaggeration. I'm still extremely anxious just thinking about going out in the world on my own. But I have to do this. It'll all be worth it in the end.

- Don't stress it Oceane... Everything's gonna be fine... Let's go.

I go through Route 21 and 22, as both of these Routes are straightforward paths where it's easy to avoid the tall grass, and I go towards Santalune City, reminescing about the times when I was walking this path in order to head to school.

Once I reach Santalune, I decide to stop by the school in order to say hi to my old teacher, who somehow made a much better parental figure than my mentally abusive parents ever did.

I enter, but before talking to my teacher, I decide to head for the bookshelves. I love reading, and the fantasy books in these shelves are my childhood. I kept reading them over and over.

There's that book with a little girl and a Shiny Gyarados that can't fly searching for an old man that can grant wishes by following the hints left by the folklore...

That one where the protagonist originates from another world where people can make their imagination come to life, and when she accidently comes back to this world, she gets chased by Scyther-looking creatures because of her power.

This one is a bit hard to explain in a short summary but it's my favorite book ever. Too bad that the author died in an accident before he could make the end of his last trilogy...

I snap out of my thinking when I realize that my teacher noticed me and is standing behind me.

- O-Oh, hi, sir... It's been a while.

- Hi, Oceane. Yes it has been a while. What are you doing here ?

- Oh well I... wanted to say hi. I've found a group that wants to fight the use of Pokemon Life Force just like I do, so I'm heading to Sinnoh to meet them, and since I'm passing through here, I decided to visit this place again.

- Sinnoh ? That's a bit far. You're sure that you can handle it ? You've never been very... autonomous.

- I know, I know... but I can handle it. I have a ticket for the boat trip to Sinnoh in Coumarine City. I can do this.

- Alright, good luck then. I hope you succeed with your goals, and that you'll get along with your co-workers.

- Yes... Thank you very much, sir.

After this interaction, I go north, towards Route 4 and Lumiose City. As I walk through the Route, I see a bunch of Flabebe and Floette playing around in the flowers, which puts a smile on my face.

I then reach Lumiose City, and I'm a bit afraid of getting lost because of how big this city is. Hopefully, there are maps available for everyone to see in the Pokemon Centers, and now I know where to go.

I traverse the South Boulevard and reach the door leading to Route 13. It's a desertic Route. There are Ground-type Pokemon on it, but I should be able to avoid them if I'm careful since we can see them approaching when they dig underground.

I pass through the door, and at first, traversing is simple as the path is paved and the Pokemon don't approach. But for the second half of the Route, there's no path.

I have two choices here. Go slowly hoping that they don't hear me, or just run for it. They would definitly hear me but I should be able to leave before they attack me.

As I'm considering the good and bad of the two options. Someone approaches me. I turn around to see them, and it's a backpacker. He proposes to help me pass with his Pokemon.

I'm about to accept, but then I spot the Poke Balls attached to his backpack. Of course. So I decline the offer.

- I'm sorry, but no. I prefer going myself rather than accepting help from someone who uses Poke Balls. I can't support the thought of Pokemon being taken away from their homes and families just for stuff like this.

- Oh er... okay, he replies. Good luck with traversing then.

As he leaves, I hear him mumbling "Weirdo..."

Who is he calling a weirdo ?? Okay, I do things my way and okay, I don't have Pokemon since I'm against catching them and I'm not a cliche anime protagonist that all Pokemon want to join because they're just oh, so great.

But my morals are in the right place, and I'm not an ignorant about the true nature of the so called wonderful world we live in, like this guy seemingly is. I'm about to call the backpacker out about this, but I change my mind.

I've tried arguing about this before. People either don't believe me or don't care. Sometimes even both ! So what's the point ? I just go back to thinking how to traverse Route 13.

I opted for the slow approach, except I had to use both approaches in the end.

I walked slowly to avoid getting noticed by the Pokemon underground, but sometimes they did, so I started running away until I lost them, and then walked slowly again.

I did that several times and I finally reached the end of the Route, exhausted. Yeah I'm not a big fan of physical activities. I think it's clear by now that I'd rather sit on a couch with a good book or video game.

But that doesn't really matter right now. I finally made it to Coumarine, and I still have some time before the ship I'm taking departs.

I take the monorail since it leads to the Coumarine Harbour, and I just sit on a bench, waiting for the ship to arrive. I take my tablet out of my bag and I play video games in the meantime.

When it's finally there, I see that quite a lot of people are going on that ship. After all, it is pretty big. I still can't believe that the Nymph Association sent me the ticket to take it just like that. It must have been costly.

I join the crowd and then head to my cabin. I have this mix of excitement and nervosity. Are the members of the Nymph Association gonna be nice ?

I know that they don't have many members. Sadly, I'm not surprised about it, and it sucks for the cause. But at least my social anxiety shouldn't be too bad since they don't have that many members.

I spend the entirety of the cruise playing video games, eating at the buffet (I love eating food), and resting while watching the scenery. The trip is 18 hours long after all.

As my name Oceane may imply, I really like water. It's my favorite natural element so I'm glad to be here. It's my first boat trip ever, I never really explored outside of Snowbelle and Santalune before.

My favorite type is not Water though, it's the Bug type. Not the most appreciated type, I know.

I must admit this backpacker was kinda right when he said I'm weird. But not in a bad way like he said. I'm unique. Well that's what I try to tell myself when my self esteem is getting low because of people like him.

After these 18 hours, I finally reach Canalave City. It's a charming little town. I like its vibe. I downloaded a map of the city on my tablet in order to know where the Nymph Association building is.

I'd rather do that than having to get the courage to ask a complete stranger for directions. I'm not good with social interactions, and I'm very self-conscious about the things that come out of my mouth.

After searching for a while, I finally find it. I slowly push the doors and enter. There's someone at the counter. She raises her head, seemingly surprised to see someone enter.

- Yes, what can I help you with ?

- Oh um, well, I uh... Your boss Selio offered me a place in the association.

- Oh, I see. You must be Oceane. No need to be so shy. Also Selio, the boss ? I mean, yes that's what he is, but sometimes, it doesn't feel like it.

- What ? Is he a bad boss ?

- Oh no no no ! What I mean is that, with him, it doesn't feel like anybody is higher on the hierarchy. I mean there's only four of us, so I guess it's not that hard.

- Oh, I see. Well, that's a relief. Where can I find him ?

- His office is behind the door to your left. He'll tell you where you'll sleep and what you'll have to do.

- Alright, thanks, uh...

- I'm Jewelia.

- Thanks Jewelia.

I head to the door Jewelia indicated. I knock, and I hear Selio telling me to enter. I do so, and I see that he was filling some paperwork.

- Yes ? What can I- Oh. You're Oceane, aren't you ?

- Yeah... that's me.

- I'm glad you made it here. Did you enjoy the trip ?

- Oh yes. Yes, thank you !

- Alright, so let me tell you a bit more about we're trying to do. From what you told me, you've tried convincing people that the use of Poke Balls is a bad thing, but they didn't believe you, right ?

- Yes. Several times, even.

- People don't like to be wrong. They'd rather consider you to be wrong than put their personal view of the world in question. We can't convince them like that.

- Yeah, I figured...

- So, the main goal of the Nymph Association is to bring undeniable proof of why that Poke Balls and many other things are powered by Pokemon Life Force and that it's a bad thing. Because of course Silph and Devon won't openly tell everyone that they make Pokemon suffer for profit.

- Yeah and they won't tell about the bad effects capturing Pokemon has on the ecosystem and the Pokemon themselves.

- Exactly. We go on different missions around the world to try and gather evidence, but we didn't go very far for now.

- Around the world ? Wow. Sorry if I'm too curious, but how do you pay for all that ? Just the expensive ticket you gave me surprised me.

- I graduated from the Castelia University, and I managed to convince them of the importance of this association for the future of Pokemon, so they're funding it. We study the nature of the bond between humans and Pokemon as well.

- That's interesting. I'd be happy to help with all that.

- That's great. But you just arrived from a long trip and it's getting late, so for now, I'll introduce you to the other members and I'll show you your room. Just like I told you in our previous discussions, you'll be paid and accomodated here.

- Right. Thank you so much. I really feel like I'll be able to properly help Pokemon here.

- Alright. Follow me to the first floor. That's where all the rooms, the kitchen and everything is.

Selio gets up and leads me outside of his office. Jewelia is still sitting at the counter. Selio walks towards her.

- Hey, Jewelia, can you bring Timeo here, please ? He must be in the garage.

- Sure thing, boss !

- Why are you calling me boss all of sudden ? You've never did that before.

- It's Oceane, when she arrived, she called you "my boss", even though you don't like being called that. It made me laugh.

- Just go look for Timeo, please.

- You got it !

Jewelia leaves. I can't help but feeling like this is my fault, so I apologize.

- I'm sorry about that...

- What ? It's not your fault. Jewelia just likes messing with people, sometimes. But she stops pretty rapidly and doesn't do it with the intent of being mean. She knows that the best jokes are the shortest.

- Oh yeah. We have a saying that says just that in Kalos.

- I see. Well, lets go up the stairs now.

- Right.

Selio leads me to the living room on the first floor, and Jewelia quickly arrives, followed by someone who I assume is the Timeo that Selio mentioned earlier.

And then there's... a girl with the messiest hair I've ever seen. It's even messier than mine, even though I don't brush my hair very often. Selio introduces them to me.

- So, Oceane. You've already met Jewelia. She's a pretty good cook, so she cooks the food for us.

- Oh no, not another mouth to feed... says Jewelia dramatically. Just kidding, I can't to see what you think of my cooking ! I'm also a Pokemon Coordinator. I'm not the best Pokemon Coordinator this world has ever seen, far from it actually, but I'm still pretty good.

- Then, there's Timeo, adds Selio. He has a knack for creating vehicles and machinery in general. He's pretty shy, kinda like you, so you could get along pretty well.

- Hi.

Yeah, just "Hi". I can feel this guy's timidity just through that. Selio's probably right, I could get along with him.

- And finally, there's Selene, says Selio while looking at the messy-haired girl.

Selene raises her head at the mention of her name.

She's my sister, and a wild child. I've been separated from her when I was very young, but a few years ago, I finally found where she was. She was living in the depths of the White forest in Unova. She was raised by Pokemon, and even though she can't talk, she has slight psychic powers that allow her to communicate. She's basically our mascot.

- And she's also my girlfriend, added Jewelia.

- Yes, and when Selene decided to follow me, the Pokemon who raised her accepted to come live here so they can stay with her. They live in our backyard continued Selio.

- Wow, that's really interesting ! Well... I'm happy to meet you all, and... I hope we'll get along.

Selio then leads me to my room, and I go to bed. I usually don't fall asleep easily, but with everything that has happened today, I fall asleep almost immediatly, while wondering what tomorrow will be like.

[romanoffsbish]

… Live For Me

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Die For You… Previous Part

Nat's POV

As I ran into the hospital, looking absolutely insane, nurses ran towards my shouting.

They immediately took Y/N back to emergency surgery, and then I found myself alone to drown in my thoughts.

This mission that just got us here only ever happened because of me. I caused her to run, I yelled at her to leave me alone, and then I couldn't even survive 24 hours without some contact. Talk about clingy...

Before I spiral out I realize I should text Fury, and the team. However, my phone is dead, so I have to use Y/N's. Before I unlock it I take a second to look at her lock screen. It's a candid photo she had taken of me surrounded by cats on our third date.

"Natty!" Y/N shouts from the living room of the compound.

"Natty!" Y/N shouts from the living room of the compound.

"Yes detka?" I shout back from the kitchen where I had been making a post workout smoothie.

"Go get ready, I'm taking you on a date, a very special one if I might add." Y/N excitedly says as we meet in the middle.

"Where are we —." I try to ask

"No! It's a surprise. Meet me at the car in an hour." She ushers out, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek and running off a giggling mess, preventing me from pushing any further.

—————

"Close your eyes Natty." Y/N says as we approach our secret destination.

"No.." I whine.

"Then I guess I can just turn around and cut this date short." She teases.

"No!" I shout, then reluctantly close my eyes, not before catching the smirk forming on her face.

She parked the car, and gently helped me out while placing a hand over my closed eyes to prevent me from peaking.

Y/N wraps her left arm around my waist and walks us forward until she brings us to a stop.

"Ta-da!" She whisper shouts, removing her right hand, and motioning towards a cafe.

I stand there confused, she brought me out for coffee and acted like it was a super sacred place.

"Coffee?" I question, then immediately cringe at my lackluster tone, and instantly regret my approach. 

She chuckles in response, and reaches over me to open the door.

"No-no. Not just coffee... It's coffee and —."

"Cats!" I gasp out at the sight, cutting Y/N off.

The cafe was outstanding, then there were several secluded corners full of bookshelves, with comfy seating, and most importantly the building is flooded with cats.

Cats of all types: chonky boys, fluffy girls, some of them were missing limbs, some blind, then there were pigmy cats. My God, my heart burst at the sight.

"Detka, this is just perfect. Thank you so much for keeping it a surprise, even with all my begging." I say grateful, gripping her hand impossibly tight.

"Of course Natty, this place was a tough find, but once I heard about it I knew it was an experience you had to have." She replied, guiding me into the building.

"Go find us a spot and I'll get our coffee." She commands with a kiss to my cheek, and a slight shove.

She doesn't have to tell me twice! I found a collection of cats huddled together and I gingerly approached them. I sat myself in the middle and a chunky calico found its way into my lap and I was in heaven.

It was in this moment that I realized how inconvenient it is to only have two hands, it'll never be enough.

I was in such a calm and serene state that I didn't see my beautiful y/h/c snapping photos.

"Here's your cup of joe." Y/N faux gags, interrupting my serene state.

"Hate all you want, but being plain is much better than insane like you with your cup of sugar." I reply

She rolled her eyes and picked up a beautiful pigmy cat, and she held it up in front of her, and then bumped noses with it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/N has always had me pegged, because had it only been coffee I would've been just as excited. I was only so initially lackluster because her secrecy and enthusiasm about a coffee shop had confused me.

All moments with her were special to me, I'm still not sure how we ended up where we are now in the first place.

The addition of the cats on this date just solidified to me how in she was. She had still been so hesitant at this stage in our relationship, but her walls were slowly breaking down for me.

Jesus, here I am getting distracted, granted it's a welcome distraction to remember happy memories. At the same time though she's going to be okay so reminiscing is not really warranted...

I entered our anniversary into her phone to unlock it and it worked, bringing me a sense of relief.

However, the list of contacts just plunged me back into a sense of chaos. I basically have to decode this list, and it's honestly offensive. She seems to have ranked us, and some got really offensive names.

My girlfriend is honestly insane, but the list actually seemed pretty self explanatory. So I called "Goose's Bitch," to inform him he's an idiot and of Y/N's condition. Then I texted the group chat a simple "We're at *sends location*, Y/N's in critical condition. Will update you when I know something."

Then I moved on to "The Better Widow." Very offensive, and now that I think of it I'm sure Lena's the one who helped Y/N create these contact names.

"Hello? Y/N? Are you okay? What did Natalia do this time?" I hear Yelena speak into the phone.

I clear my throat to make it clear that it's not Y/N and indeed me.

"A lot actually... I really messed up Lena." I reply, not even trying to keep my resolve up.

"Where are you Natasha?" Yelena asks, and I can hear the anxiety in her voice.

"*Your local* Hospital."

"I'm on my way!" Yelena shouts, then disconnects the phone.

Y/N and Yelena have been the best of friends since we took the Red Room down together. It's literally made me the happiest to know how much they genuinely love each other, and the lengths they would go to, to protect one another. However, it's also led me to many horrible messes that I was expected to clean up ...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I walked into the living room to see Y/N cuddled up to Yelena, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight. My sister and the love of my life being that close fills me with glee, especially when Yelena's not one for physical contact. Then the happiness I was feeling faded into deep worry when I saw guilt swirling around in Yelena's eyes. Then I notice the unconscious state my girlfriend is in.

"Shit! ... Y/N/N, wake up."

"You weren't supposed to drink that."

"Nat's going to kill me.."

I cleared my throat and I could see Yelena's body stiffen.

"Natasha." She whispers while jumping up and facing me in a defensive stance. As she stands I see Y/N topple over and the sense of worry deepens.

"Yelena, explain to me why my girlfriend's unconscious and at a loss for control of her motor functions."

"Well, you see, I might've made a dangerous concoction of booze in the hopes that Bucky and Cap would be shit-faced tonight. You know since they don't really feel the affects by nursing their beers. So, I mixed God knows what up and funneled it into the beers they usually drink. Not expecting anyone else to touch them. I walked into the living room, and saw Y/N had downed two of them, and then she was a goner." Yelena stumbles over her words.

"You are an idiot... Y/N better be okay!" I shout while carrying Y/N to the medbay and giving her IV fluids.

After an hour of waiting I hear Y/N groan, and then hiccup.

"Detka, are you okay?" I rush out as I make my way to her.

She looks at me like a deer caught in headlights, then she began to sob. Before I could even try to console her, her sobs morphed into giggles, and then she was back to hiccuping.

Definitely NOT okay...

"Hey, can I tell you a secret?" Y/N 'whispers' to me.

"Yeah, of course." I actually whisper back, smirking down at her as I'm preparing for her to unintentionally snitch on herself.

"Okay, just don't tell Natty." She giggles, oblivious to her surroundings, and begins spilling the beans.

"Last week, Yelena told me to help her pull a prank on Bucky. I told her it was a bad idea, but I can never say no and disappoint my little blondie. So, we stole Bucky's arm from Tony's lab, since he had been repairing it. She snuck Peter in to help her rewire it. So, at the party on Friday, they're going to have it programmed to fight himself." She giggles out mischievously.

Oh shit... Today's Friday, and said parties currently taking place.

I kissed Y/N on her forehead, then told Friday to make sure she doesn't get into trouble. To ensure it I handcuffed her to the bed.

I walked into the party and looked around, it appeared normal at first. Then I saw Cap and Bucky, and they were actually shitfaced, so Yelena's plan worked. If it didn't cause Y/N any problems, like potential liver failure, I would actually find this sight hilarious.

Then, within the blink of an eye I saw Peter and Yelena in a corner in a fit of giggles, then I witnessed Bucky punch himself in the face.

I was too late, so I slowly left, making sure there was no trace of me there to begin with.

They can handle themselves, I already had one drunk lunatic to handle. Plus, who knows what else she might say if I stay...

——————

"Natasha!" I hear Clint shout, clearly angry and apparently about to make it my problem..

"What?" I question frustratedly.

"Your sister and girlfriend have a death wish is what!" He seethes

At that I finally look up from my book, and though I'm trained to stay stoic, I can't fight the need to burst out laughing.

"Oh God.. Clint.. What.. What happened?" I mutter out through my laughter.

"Ask your children." He growls and walks out in search of them.

I compose myself, and decide I'll watch the footage of today's events before I do anything else.

"Friday, playback the footage of whatever it is Y/N and Yelena did to Clint today please." I instructed the AI.

"Of course Miss Romanoff."

The footage starts with Yelena whispering to Y/N, and then Y/N throwing her head back, then attempting to shake it to say no.

Then she eventually concedes, and is dragged to the weapons room by an eager Yelena.

Yelena's basically the little devil on Y/N's shoulder.

I'm not able to see what they do exactly, but I can see Y/N standing guard while Yel's tampering with his specific weaponry.

Then Friday cuts to the next clip, where I find Y/N, Yelena, and Clint in the compound's gym. Clint's at the archery station preparing to train. Y/N and Yel are tucked away in the corner with a camera of their own, and wearing lab gear on their face, and a poncho.

He's a trained spy, and doesn't see them?

At this point this is on him.

       3. Clint aims

                   2. He pulls back

                                   1. He shoots

                                                    BOOM

Then the next thing I see is him being thrown back by a strong blast. Then the cloud forming around him is hues of pink and purple. He jumps up, and storms off, a cloud of pink and purple glitter following him as he does.

I close my laptop, and open my book back up.

Like I said, he's a spy, this is on him. He can handle it...

——————

Their litany of pranks is never ending. They put dye in Peter's webs, they once switched the salt and sugar around—never trying anything like that again though, Wanda handled them. They once hacked Friday, and made her speak and only respond to Russian, it took Tony hours to override them. Once, Y/N took Mjolnir, and hid it from Thor. He was too drunk to think to call it, and he began to wail like a baby.. She felt bad after that one and returned it along with a box of his favorite pop tarts. At least my girl is worthy...

It was clear that no one was safe, well except me—they wouldn't dare.

Most of the pranks would end in me scolding Y/N, but then she'd pout, and I'd find myself mad at whoever it was that snitched on her. She was my precious baby, who could do no wrong!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Natasha!" Yelena whisper shouts, while waving her hand in my face, snapping me out of my endless memories.

I looked up at her with teary eyes and a pout.

"You look like shit." She mutters before pulling me up and into a hug.

"Shh.. моя сестра. I got you, Y/N's going to be okay. She's too stubborn, and loyal to die."

"Yelena.. What if.."

"No!" She coldly asserts.

"She doesn't get to leave us. It's against my rules. Y/N has to outlive us, I won't survive that loss, and neither would you." She continues, doing her best not to break.

I just break out into a full sob, knowing she's completely right, and Yelena just holds me tighter in response.

"Miss Romanoff? You're here for Y/N Y/L/N correct?" The nurse says as she approaches us.

Yelena and I immediately unravel from one another and turn to face her.

"Yes we are!" Yelena states, speaking for me when I clearly can't.

"Follow me please, surgery went decently, she's stable, but she is still unconscious."

Yelena and the nurse begin to walk away, it takes me an additional ten seconds to register what was said and I then sprint forward to catch up.

As I walk in I see Yel with two fingers to Y/N's pulse point, and her eyes locked on her chest. Clearly not trusting the nurse or the machines to be truthful.

"She's alive." Yelena whispers in confirmation, doing her best to keep it together.

I make my way towards Y/N, and pull a chair up to her bed.

I moved the hair out of her face, and just took her relaxed features in.

"Detka, I need you to wake up please. You don't get to just die on me." I whisper in her ear, then move up to kiss her forehead.

"Or me, ." Yel adds, and lightly punches her arm.

"Hey! Don't touch my baby." I growl.

She rolled her eyes, then she grabbed onto Y/N's other hand, and kept her eyes focused on the rise and fall of her chest.

"We still have to finish our ever growing list of pranks Y/N/N. Like sledding with Cap's shield, and hacking Sam's wings.. We have so much left to do together." I hear Yelena whisper, and see the single tear running down her cheek.

I lock eyes with Yelena, and can see the desperation in her eyes, it matches mine.

"We're not done yet baby... I haven't been able to switch your ring to a more permanent fit. We haven't even scratched the surface of our lives together. We still need to get married, well engaged, then married. We need to get that cabin in the woods we always used to talk about. Then we obviously have to go get our cats from the cafe. Then there's that family we are meant to start, or should I say add on to. You, and Yelena are my family.

Our story doesn't end here moya lyubov. Please, live for me..."

"Us!" Yel interjects, while reaching for Y/N's pudding cup and receiving a glare and slap to the hand from me.

"Don't you dare." I growl.

"Watch me!" Yel challenges.

Y/N's POV

"Put the pudding cup down!" I vaguely hear someone growl, as I am coming to.

"Why? It's not like it's of much use sitting there, and I'm hungry." I hear more clearly, it's my devious blonde bestie.

"It's for Y/N is why! When she wakes up soon, she'll be hungry and she can't eat much else. Go to the cafeteria if you are hungry. " I hear my beautiful redhead scolding her.

I just listen to them bickering, finding it amusing like always. Then I hear a crash and instinctively try to sit up to see what's wrong.

Big mistake, because all that gets me is a sharp pain surging through my body, and a groan falling past my lips.

I hear scuffling and am soon met with my girlfriends concerned face, and my guilty best friends who's covered in chocolate hovering above me.

"Detka? How do you feel? Don't try to move again. I'll go get a nurse!" Nat frantically says, but before she goes I grasp her wrist to halt her.

I intertwine our fingers to keep her there, then I glare at Yel, and she looks panicked. I nod to the water and she frantically gets me a cup and aides me with drinking it.

"I'm tired Natty. I don't want this anymore."

I mumble, trying to catch my breath.

I can see the fear in her eyes, so I gulp more water down, catch my breath, then I continue with a squeeze to her hand.

"Calm down love." I say with a squeeze to her hand.

"I just want more than this constant fighting, and the paperwork. I want to live Natty, I want to be selfish, I just want more and I want it all with you." I croak out.

"Not you though, you pudding thief." I add on, playfully glaring at Yel.

"I'll go get more." Yel quietly mumbles with a pout, and I squeeze her hand reassuringly as she walks out.

Nat doesn't reply, she just stares at me, but I can see the gears turning. I think she might just combust.

I pull my hand out of hers, and she snaps her attention to the movement. Before she can spaz out, I reach my hands to her face and gently cup it.

"Natty, breathe! It's a lot to consider." I say, stroking her cheeks with my thumb.

She reaches up to grasp my wrists, and gently places them back down. Then she lowers her face to mine and rests her forehead to mine, and sighs in relief.

"Don't move. Rest." She whispers.

After a minute of silence I can hear faint whimpers, but most importantly I can feel Nat's tears on my face.

"Natty.." I whisper against her lips as our faces are directly aligned.

Her eyes open and she stares back into mine intensely, and then she attaches her lips to mine in a gentle way. Before we got to the point where the urge to deepen it presented itself she pulled away, and I whined in response.

She pulled back slowly, chuckling lightly at my response. Then her face immediately turned soft, and her eyes were glossy and screaming with love and adoration.

"Marry me!" She states—not questions, and she does so with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

"Nat.." I hesitate.

"I'm serious Y/N/N! This is all I've ever wanted with you." She says while lifting my left hand up to her lips, and kissing my ring finger.

"Really? This isn't just because I almost—." I anxiously begin to question.

"Don't... Please.." She pleads with me to not even question such a thing, and I nod.

"Well, my answers yes, it would've been the same if you asked me last week, or the week before that, and so on." I beam, and she kisses me deeply, and while we're kissing I feel her slip my promise ring onto my left hand.

"Place holder" she mumbles against my lips, pulling back with a cheeky grin.

I scoot over slowly, and painfully in an attempt to make room for my fiancé.

She hesitated, but she slowly climbs into the spot I created for her. She reached her arm behind me and wraps it around my neck, then she kissed my temple.

"So, how do we do this?" I ask

"Well, we plan the wedding! I'm thinking outdoors, in the fall, and maybe we do it at Tony's Cabin. Then we start house hunting now, because we shouldn't live where we work anymore, it's not healthy. I'll also talk to Fury, you'll retire from Avenging and I'll get you a sweet position."

"You can possibly train the new recruits, or do whatever it is you please. I just know you like to keep busy, but you can be my live in wife if that's what you want." She laughs out, and winks at me.

"Outdoor weddings perfect Natty! We should keep it small, I don't need anything big, just you and me would even be fine." I agree

"I also think we need more than what a cabin can offer us. I'm thinking a four bedroom farm house, we can buy land near Clint. Not next door though, because Lord knows he'd be over all the time." I laugh out

"Four beds?" Nat questions with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well duh! There's our room, your office, Yelena's room, and our future fur babies and baby babies room." I say as if it's the most obvious thing.

Nat smiles wide at my dreams for us, and then she leans up on her elbows, turns her body, and places a kiss to my nose, then my lips.

"Sounds perfect." She mumbles while pulling back.

"Wait, did you hear me while you were under?"

She says while laying back down

"Bits and pieces, but I just simply remembered our cabin dreams."

"We can have both, we don't have to give up any dreams." She states seriously

"That's sweet love, but it sounds awfully expensive." I laugh out.

"Since we plan on having kids, both a house and cabin is probably not in the cards." I continue to rationalize.

"False! Kids means mean we definitely need a getaway. Tony will gift it to us." She deadpans.

"Oh, I'm sure he—."

Before I can continue Yel runs in, out of breath with her arms full of jello, ice cream cups, and different puddings.

"I'm back." She pants out

"Yeah, we see. Did you happen to steal the entire contents of a mini fridge?" Nat questions.

Yelena sheepishly nods in response.

"They were moving too slow, and running around me, so I took matters into my own hands." She replies, absolutely serious.

"Yel, it's a hospital, of course they're busy. My need for pudding didn't require you to become a doubled down thief." I deadpan

"Too late, it's been done. Now pick!" She states while dropping all the options onto the tray.

I just giggle in response, and point out the vanilla ice cream cup.

"Is that a ring?" Yelena gasps while looking at my hand.

"Mmhmm." I hum, enjoying the treat that Nat's spoon feeding me.

"Wait! You're tell me I missed the proposal? Unfair!" Yelena grumbles, while shoveling pudding into her pouting mouth.

"Life's unfair." I state with a smirk.

"Well, cheers." She shouts, clinking her pudding cup with our ice cream cups.

We fall into comfortable silence and as I found myself falling asleep on Nat's shoulder, I heard Yelena mumble.

"I better be the flower girl!" With a dramatic huff.

This right here is the beginning of the rest of our lives, and I'm happy to be going into it laughing my ass off.

—————————————————————

The Story of Us (Part 3)

3,974 words

[rosy-cheekx]

Heard you were looking for prompts :) 1 of 2 - From favorite tropes: Blind date set up by mutual friends! And maybe combined with "I'm speechless you're so beautiful" from the fluff & kisses (and other stuff) prompts. Go wild with it!

This will go to AO3 soon, but it was a lot of fun to write and a nice distraction from any hypothetical realities the TMA fandom may be experiencing. 

Double-Blind: 5K

Martin smelled like espresso. He wrinkled his nose and dusted his hands on his apron uselessly, as if doing so would rid himself of the months of coffee, cinnamon, and hazelnut baked into his skin.  It wasn’t all that bad, he supposed, except what was the point in using cologne if it was going to be immediately overpowered?

The bell above the door jingled and Martin jumped, pulled from his thoughts on cologne and what he would like to smell like, given the opportunity. Sandalwood, maybe? Tobacco and vanilla? The musky-sweet smells are nice, they have a nice mix of feminine and masculine to them, almost—

“Ahem.” An exaggerated clearing of the throat, once again whisking him from his distractions. Martin locked eyes on the woman across the counter from him, grinning mischievously. “Welcome back to Earth, Martin.”

“Oh! Oh. It’s just you. Hi, Georgie.” Georgie Barker, a regular customer, moderately well-known podcast host, and most importantly, one of Martin’s favorite people to see at the tiny coffee shop he spent more time in than his own flat.

“Just me? Excuse me.” Georgie pouted and crossed her arms, coily hair bouncing around her face as she shook her head. “I’ll have you know you should be grateful to see me this fine afternoon, Martin Koffee Blackwood!”

Martin grinned and dropped the act. “I always am, Georgie. But I told you, there’s not a—”

“Like I said, you should be happy to see me.” Georgie barreled on. “I have good news.” She cocked her head and pondered the chalk-covered board behind the counter. “Two chai lattes, please. And make one of them extra spicy?”

Martin rang up the order and passed two cups down to Rosie, all the while checking the door surreptitiously, ensuring a little chat wouldn’t hold anyone up. “Okay? Spill.”

Georgie’s phone was in her hand, and she waved it at Martin like it contained the secrets of the universe. “D’you remember my roommate, Melanie?”

Martin nodded, pursing his lips. “Vaguely. I thought you guys were dating.” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.

Georgie waved a hand dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Not the point. Anyways, she has a friend of a friend-“ Georgie frowned for a moment, “…of a friend who is looking to get back into dating. Mel says he’s short and nerdy and prickly until you get to know him. Apparently a real pain to work with according to the friend.” Georgie smirked and pulled a sticky note from her back pocket. “Thought maybe you’d want his number.”

Martin grimaced at the blue piece of paper as she smoothed it to the counter with a firm motion. “Wow, George. Really selling it.” It was his fault; they had bonded over being queer back in July when Martin had worn his gay and trans pride buttons and Georgie was proudly sporting her own pansexual patch firmly affixed to her laptop case. One lunch break discussing quirky exes later, their friendship had been sealed. Mentioning offhandedly that he was on dating apps and hating every minute of it seemed to have rooted itself in Georgie’s mind and had grown like weeds until she had taken it upon herself to become his personal wing woman.

“Do you even know his name?” Martin asked, regarding the string of numbers on the piece of paper in front of him.

Georgie blushed, shrugging apologetically. “Friend of a friend of a friend. Sorry mate. Melanie said he likes cats, documentaries, and-” she made air quotes with her fingers, “-being uptight.”

“Wow.” Martin chuckled in disbelief. “Really selling it here.”

Rosie sidled by Martin and set down Georgie’s lattes, who shrugged and picked them up after dropping a few coins in the tip jar. “You have his number. Just think about it, Blackwood. Melanie’s friend doesn’t spread the word about someone unless they’re something special.” She blew a kiss (clumsily, considering the cups requiring the attention of each of her hands) and made her way to the door.

“I just want you to be happy!” She called out as the January winds pulled her out the door and into the grey afternoon.

Martin chewed on his lip as he considered. January was always a tough month for him, and he had been feeling a little lonely recently. He really didn’t see anyone besides his coworkers, customers, and his mother. As much as he enjoyed his job, he wouldn’t call anyone there a romantic interest. He folded the sticky note and stuck it in his pocket as his next customer approached the counter. He did like cats, after all. Maybe that would be a good starting conversation.

--

Jonathan Sims groaned and shifted the stack of books in his hand as he inspected the knee-high table that was buried amongst the fiction books. He hated working the children’s section of the library. Although no food or drink was allowed, there always seemed to be crumbs everywhere. He was starting to wonder if children just manifested them. He made a mental note to come back with disinfectant wipes after putting the stack of child-suitable biographies away and turned, nearly walking straight into the chest of one Timothy Stoker.

“A-ah!” Jon jumped instinctively backward, clutching the books closer to his chest in an attempt to keep from dropping them. “Tim! Good lord, there’s really no need to be sneaking up on me like that.”

Tim grinned wryly and shrugged, taking half of the books from Jon’s arms. “Sorry boss, thought you heard me.” He gestured for Jon to lead the way through the half-sized bookshelves; an unnecessary act seeing as Tim worked the children’s library much more frequently than Jon did.

“I’m not your-” Jon sighed, deciding this wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on today. He made his way through the shelves, sliding books into their correct placements with practiced hands. “Do you need something?”

“Actually,” Tim checked a Dewey code and slid a book into a shelf a few rows down. “I don’t. But you do.”

Jon stared blankly, uncomprehending. Tim chuckled and gestured with a cock of his head towards the research section. “Melanie said she has a friend who has a friend she wants to set up on a date. And while normally, I’d jump at the chance-” he waved his left hand, the silver ring inset with tiny diamonds flashing in the fluorescents, “I’ve been wifed up and I don’t think my dear Sash would appreciate my going on a blind date with a stranger.”

Jon frowned, setting his stack of books down and eyeing Tim. “What, so I have to?”

Tim shook his head, a patient smile on his face. “No, no one is forcing you. I just think—well. It’s been a while since your last relationship and you’ve been a little…testy, recently.” The look on Tim’s face dared Jon to contradict. “Melanie says he’s apparently a really good guy, very kind and sweet and patient. I think his name is Melvin? I kinda tuned out after she wrote down the number she got from her friend.”

Jon scoffed, pushing his glasses up his face as if that would help him comprehend the absolute ridiculousness of what Tim was saying. “Y-You want me to go on a date with this guy, Melvin? Because I’ve been…grumpy? That doesn’t seem very kind to this mysterious date.”

Tim pursed his lips. “I just think you could benefit from seeing someone who doesn’t work here. I mean, we love you Jon, but god, you need to get a social life. I’m practically begging you.” Tim’s purse elongated into a pout, eyes going big and starry. Jon inwardly groaned. Tim was his oldest friend here at the library and he really never learned how to resist that face. Maybe he should ask Sasha.

“One date,” Jon promised. “I’ll do one date. And then you never set me up again.”

Tim grabbed the rest of the books Jon had set down and added them to his stack before whisking himself away down the aisles. “If we’re lucky, I’ll never have to!” He called down the aisles, grinning madly. Jon sighed and grabbed a small pink sticky note that had been stuck to the countertop, running his eyes over the numbers before slipping it into his pocket. He’ll call later.

--

Martin stared resolutely at the numbers on the blue sticky note, running his thumb over the curled edge of the paper, slightly stained from some sort of milk during the shift. Even his apron pockets weren’t foolproof. The underground was busy and he was jammed between an older woman who smelled weirdly like salmon and a man who seemed utterly too well-dressed to be on the tube. Elbows crammed into his side to keep from nudging anyone, he pulled out his phone and stared at the messaging app for what felt like several minutes. He typed the numbers into the message bar and watched his cursor blip in the body of the message.

Hey whats up?

No, that would be so weird.

Hiya, this is martin!

Georgie never said the man’s name, would this mysterious date know his?

Hey I think the alphabet is missing I and U together.

Gross. Just gross. Martin grimaced inwardly and chewed on his lip, thinking carefully before typing.

Hi! My name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, I get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

As he finished typing, he heard the familiar robotic voice of the tube announcing his stop. Quickly, Martin shoved the phone in his pocket and carefully forced his way through the crowd and onto the platform, mind cast to what he had accessible for dinner.

----

It took Jon a few days, until Saturday, to remember to call the phone number they had been given. They could text, they supposed, but they always appreciated hearing someone’s intonation a little better. Especially a stranger, ugh, they shuddered at the idea of not being able to decipher the tone of this Melvin. It was half-past 11 when they decided to call, hoping this would be late enough in the morning to not wake him up.

The phone rang momentarily before a surprisingly feminine voice answered the phone. “Hello. This is Rosie. You’ve reached Swirl Café and Bakery.”

Well shit. This was not what Jon expected. They stumbled over their rehearsed speech, trying to scramble words together in a way that made sense. “Uh-sorry, I must have the wrong number. I-I was trying to speak to Melvin?”

“Mmm, sorry. No Melvin works here. We have a Martin, but he’s off the clock. Would you like to speak to our manager?” Rosie’s voice was clipped and courteous, but Jon could hear the bustle of voices in the background. It must be their weekend rush.

“Ah-uh, no, no thank you.” Jon shook their head into the phone, before remembering that did not translate aurally. “It’s alright. Thank you anyways.”

“Sorry, mate. Thanks for calling!” The dial tone droned on for a moment before Jon hung up, sighing and pressing the heels of their hands into their eyes. That was a waste. Melanie must have been playing them; Jon knew they generally didn’t get along, but they didn’t realize she would stoop so low. Honestly, shame on themself for getting excited about a date.

Later that evening, Jon was cooking and listening to music through the speaker that balanced precariously on a shelf next to their stove. The music was low, with a variety of orchestral instruments and sultry, smooth voices. Jon’s eyes were half closed as they stirred the curry in the pan in front of them, letting the music and heat of the kitchen entangle them in a sleepy feeling relaxing their whole body. As the cello in the song dipped low and resonant, Jon stood still, letting the music sweep them away—

They jumped as the ringer alerted them through the speaker that they had received a text, glaringly electronic compared to the rich notes of cello and viola that had been so rudely interrupted. Sleepy feeling gone as adrenaline washed through their body, Jon sighed and retrieved their phone, checking for the message.

An unknown number flicked across the screen:

Hi! my name is martin. my friend gave me your number, hope thats okay. she said you were really nice and recommended we try a blind date. if this is too weird, i get ignoring it. but if youre game, I am! :)

i meant to send this a few days ago but I never hit send. sorry ab that! rosie said someone called the café asking ab me and i assumed that was you bc i wasnt expecting anyone else and no one involved in the blind date thing ever asked for my mobile number.

if it wasn’t you, oops! either way it reminded me that i had never texted you. :)

Jon squinted at the screen as they read the messages a few times over. That was…a lot of words. So his name was Martin. It was certainly nicer than Melvin. Jon agonized over their words as they typed out a response.

Hello Martin. That was me who called the café…I hope it didn’t cause problems for you. Blind dates aren’t usually my thing, but my coworkers think I need to get out more. I’d be happy to meet you for dinner or coffee. Even if we don’t get along, we can say we’ve done it.

Unless, of course, you’re rather sick of coffee. I prefer tea anyways.

…not “done it” done it. Just. Had the blind date.

Jon winced at their follow up texts. God, that was embarrassing. Martin probably didn’t even take it that way until they bothered to clarify. They shook their head, warding away the growing anxiety in their chest and tucked their phone in their pocket as they turned their attention back to the simmering curry. Jon had embarrassed themselves enough for one night.

----

Martin chuckled at the texts that came through; one slow and the two follow-ups rapid. He could feel the awkwardness through the messages, desperately trying to give a good impression. He chuckled to himself as he set down his dinner plate.

dinner sounds perfect. but same about the tea! and about the coworkers tbh, my friends think im making friends with the espresso machine. which, i am, but only bc its good company haha.

btw i never got your name?

Martin’s phone was silent the rest of the night, as he plodded his way through a mediocre dinner and shower before settling into his armchair, desperate to work on his poetry. Words came slowly to him recently, thoughts about the world and darkness and the intersection of fall and winter. He really should up and move to somewhere warmer, he thought to himself, before laughing the notion away aloud. Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the poetry prompts book he had found at the charity shop. “Use noncolor words to describe a color.” Great. Martin settled back and tried to focus, but kept finding himself checking his phone impulsively, the foamed latte art he’d photographed, one of a cat he was particularly proud of, stared back at him judgmentally.

As he drew his evening to a close, Martin almost missed the buzz of his phone, now plugged in by his bed, as he brushed his teeth.

Congrats on the espresso machine. And my name is Jon. Anywhere you want to go for dinner?

________________________________________________________________

Jon hesitated, thumb hovering over the icon that would open a video chat with Tim. He didn’t want to come off nervous, but… he was.

Texting had been going well. Martin was good at keeping the conversation going and genuinely seemed to enjoy the long texts Jon had sent regarding his irritations with the research he was conducting as a part of his master’s in literature, asking him questions about details Jon had added for context. Martin was easy to talk to, too, he always seemed to have an opinion on subjects but always ones Jon was happy to hear, even if he was objectively wrong about spiders and oolong tea. Martin had sent an awkward text, letting Jon know he was trans and that if that was a dealbreaker he should tell him now, one Jon had blushed over and responded that he was nonbinary himself, and that it certainly wasn’t. The “okay fantastic! :))) remind me of your pronouns? he/him for me.” that followed it up had made Jon’s heart sing.

They had agreed to meet at an Italian place, equidistant between their flats and not too fancy. Martin had commented about getting ice cream after, but Jon wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, since it had also been a jab about Jon’s preference for rum raisin. Thus, he was staring at his wardrobe, paralyzed with indecision. Tim had offered to help, which Jon had initially rejected since he’s “not a child Tim, I’ve dated before. And I know how to dress myself.” But lord if he wasn’t wishing for someone to lay out his clothes and tell him to behave. He grimaced and jabbed the video chat button, bracing for the onslaught of teasing to come.

----

Martin adjusted his collar for what must have been the twelfth time, sucking on his lip as he waited at the reserved table. He hadn’t been there long, no more than five minutes, but his anxiety had been building up all day and a part of him was absolutely certain Jon wasn’t going to come. Neither of them knew what the other looked like; what if Jon saw him and had dipped out immediately? He was wearing mint green, as he had promised, so Jon would recognize him, and brought a bouquet of daisies, mostly because it felt weird not to bring anything, but he didn’t want to be too romantic. Not roses or anything. Besides, Jon said he liked daisies, said they reminded him of an old friend. Martin hoped it wasn’t too weird. He brushed his auburn curls out of the way of his eyes, part of him regretting not having gotten a haircut first, but he tucked those thoughts aside as he surveyed the restaurant from his vantage point.

He blinked in confusion as he watched long curls make their way towards him. Dark black hair, streaked with white, half bunned up in the back and rest left to hang loose, skimming purple-covered elbows. Martin wasn’t sure if they were wearing flowy grey pants or a skirt, but either way, the faint black pattern to them was stunning and Martin couldn’t help but watch the swoosh of the hemlines. As the person got closer, Martin realized they were tiny, stylized eyes.

“Ah-you’re Martin, right?” It took Martin a second to realize this absolutely beautiful person was talking to him.

“hmm—Oh! Yes! You must be Jon.” Martin stood, unsure whether he should shake Jon’s hand or hug him or? But Jon solved the problem himself by sitting, and so Martin did as well. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, that is,” he added, grinning shyly. “You look lovely, by the way.”

Jon blushed. “Ah, thank you. Y-You too. O-or handsome, whichever you prefer.” He sipped his water and fidgeted with his hands, eyes flicking around the room nervously before coming around to rest on Martin.

Martin shrugged. “A compliment is a compliment, they all work. Speaking of—what pronouns are you feeling today? I remember you saying it varies.”

Jon shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to pitch a fit either way, but ‘he’ is just fine.” It was nice to be asked. The library respected his pronouns, of course, but something about Martin going out of his way to make sure he was on the same page was… It made Jon’s heart thud deep in his chest.

They made small talk about the travel, the weather, Italian food preferences until the waiter came and relieved the tension. Martin felt his shoulders relax after they both ordered; it felt more real somehow.

“So,” Martin asked, sipping his water demurely, a smile tinged on his lips. “Melvin, huh?”

Jon choked on air for a moment. His mouth gaped open and shut again and Martin couldn’t help the grin overtook him. Jon’s embarrassment was sweet; his cheeks flushed and he bowed his head slightly. It was a lovely look on him. “For the record, that’s what I was told by my coworker, Tim.” Jon made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Melvin or something.’ Who was I to question your name?”

“Right, and I’m glad you respect names ‘n’ all. But Melvin?” Martin chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not the decimal system guy.”

“Nn-mmm,” Jon shook his head, nose wrinkled in a way Martin found particularly cute. “That’s Melville. Melville Dewey.” Jon emphasized, back straightening. “Distinctly different. I’m a librarian, actually.”

“Oh!” Martin blinked. “That makes sense. You work with Melanie, then, I assume?”

Jon grimaced again. “Unfortunately.”

“She’s not that bad!” Martin insisted. “I’ve met her once or twice and she’s been very polite.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “For someone who’s getting a degree in parapsychology, she seems very judgmental.”

“Oh? And what are you studying again?”

“English Lit-hey!”

Martin grinned behind his glass of water. “Just saying, I haven’t met an English Lit student who wasn’t obscenely pretentious.”

Jon faltered for a second and slumped his shoulders in defeat, though his voice still seemed to carry humor, albeit dry. “Unfortunately, I am no exception.”

“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Dinner arrived smoothly, shrimp scampi for Jon and eggplant parmesan for Martin. They ate slowly, chatting more about Jon’s graduate degree, Martin’s affinity for fiction and poetry, and their shared interest in tea.

“So, are you vegetarian?” Jon gestured to the eggplant on Martin’s plate. Martin wobbled his head slightly, not quite a negatory shake of the head.

“It’s complicated. My mother has—had—a sensitive stomach so we didn’t eat meat growing up. I think that turned me off the taste. And there’s something about the texture,” he shuddered. “Weirds me out.”

Jon’s eyes were sharp, boring holes into Martin’s in a way he should have found alarming, but instead found soothing. “Mine, too.” His tone—softer, almost reverent, clued Martin in: he wasn’t talking about being vegetarian.

Martin nodded, and gently placed a hand on Jon’s, the one that hovered near his drinking glass. “I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a moment, Jon’s hand was small and warm under his, and Martin could feel a thin silver bracelet clinging to his wrist. Martin was amazed by how perfectly his fingers rested over Jon’s, how nice it must feel to hold hands with him on a walk or side by side against the world. Jon cleared his throat suddenly and reached for his glass, gulping down water while staring steadfastly at his plate.

Martin felt his own blush rise through his cheeks and pushed a stray noodle around his plate. “So, here’s a question,” he began, eager to clear the tension. “You said earlier your friend Tim gave you the number to Swirl, right? I don’t know a Tim. So how did he know me?”

Jon frowned, cocking his head. “Technically, I got the number from Tim but that was via Melanie. She said her roommate was friends with…well, friends with you.”

“Mmhmm, that makes sense. I know Georgie from the coffee shop.” He was about to continue when he saw absolutely paralyzed look on Jon’s face. “You…you alright?”

Jon was stock still, pausing the forkful of shrimp that was en route to his mouth. “Sorry, Melanie’s roommate is Georgie?”

Martin nodded slowly. “Yeah, Georgie Barker, that podcaster. She gets her an extra-spicy chai latte from Swirl most days and that’s about the most I know of the relationship. Why, you know her?”

Jon put the fork down, shrimp forgotten, and sighed, running his thumbs along the bridge of his nose, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses up to his eyebrows. “Y-yes, she’s kind of…my ex.”

It was Martin’s turn to freeze. “Sorry?”

“Mmm, yeah, we decided we were better as friends. It was back in Oxford. But I don’t exactly see her often much anymore.” Jon winced at his own words, as if he knew how bad they sounded.

Martin sat back in disbelief, chuckling to himself. “Y’know, she said you were a ‘friend of a friend of a friend.’ D’you think she even knew it was you?”

Jon cocked his head in thought. “I guess not. I mean, I think the whole library staff has been gunning for me to relieve some tension. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been looking for a blind date for me for months now.”

Martin grinned, eyes sparkling. “Well, no matter. It was lucky for me.” Lucky again, was Martin, when he was rewarded with Jon’s warm blush.

----

The bill had been a painful affair, with both Jon and Martin vying for the privilege of paying. Martin struck a deal: he’d pay for the dinner, and Jon would pay for ice cream. Jon knew the differences would widely outweigh when it came to cost but he relented, and the self-satisfied smirk that blossomed over Jon’s face was payment enough.

Martin pointed out the ice cream parlor was a few blocks away and, though it was January, they decided to walk. The fresh snow on the ground glinted against the orange street lamps, and Jon laughed under his breath at the way Martin took great care to step on any unusually large clumps of snow, like he had a personal vendetta. When Jon’s chuckle had made it past the scarf he had wound round his neck and mouth, Martin had glanced over, embarrassed.

“I like the sound of it,” he mumbled, suddenly very meek for a man his stature. It was, regretfully, endearing. Martin was tall, but he was big too, and it was obvious underneath the layer of soft cashmere and chub, there was rigid muscle, and beneath that still, a gentle heart. Jon was struck by him, in more ways he had prepared himself for, and it felt second nature to slide his gloved hand into Martin’s and give it a solid squeeze of acknowledgement.

“Do you think it’s too cold to get ice cream?” Jon asked, watching a cloud of breath float by his lips.

Martin shrugged. “Technically? Yes. But who’s going to tell on us?” Jon swung their entwined hands a little. “Unless…you don’t want to?” Martin added, eyes locking on Jon’s before his head followed.

Jon shook his head. “No, I want to. I believe we have a debt to settle and I have a personal score involving rum raisin.” Martin beamed, clearly pleased, and Jon was certain the snow around him melted right off with the warmth of his smile. Jon leant into Martin’s side a little, and they continued in silence until they reached the ice cream parlor, the entrance to which glowed with pink and white LEDs.

Jon smugly ordered a scoop of rum raisin and was delighted to find Martin “didn’t hate it,” though he insisted his mint chip was better. That was genuinely the best Jon could hope for; not even Georgie in all her unusual tastes enjoyed his rum raisin sensibility. “My grandmother loved it when I was a kid,” he explained between bites, stirring the ice cream with his spoon. “It was the only flavor she kept around the house.”

“Not even vanilla?” Martin gasped in mock disbelief. “Any sensible person would say you’ve been tricked into enjoying it.” Jon chuckled and elbowed Martin mildly.

Jon found himself lingering over the bowl, realizing that the end of their dessert meant an end to the date. Martin seemed to be acting similarly, putting his spoon down between bites and taking more and more thoughtful swallows between their bouts of conversation.

“You-you took the tube here, right?” Jon asked, setting his finally-empty bowl off to the side. At Martin’s confirmation, Jon clenched his fist below the table. “Do you want to walk to the station together?”

Martin’s eyes lit up, nodding eagerly. “I had meant to ask, actually! I wanted to make sure you got there safe.” Jon winced at the blush that overtook his cheeks, though it was easy to blame it on the chill of the ice cream and the frigid night.

The walk to the tube was longer and the pair, heavily sated by pasta and dairy, were quiet, making soft comments about the snow or the odd remaining Christmas decorations, hands clasped tightly and shoulders pressing into the other. The fluorescents of the underground shone brightly, normally a beacon calling travelers home in the night, but to Jon it felt like a dreadful curse. He truly hadn’t expected to enjoy his evening with Martin so much, but they had just clicked. It felt like a shame to let it go.

Swiping their cards, Jon and Martin passed through their respective turnstiles and stood at the bisecting tunnels through which the various lines waited to take them home. They faced each other in silence, hands still interlocked, unsure of how to begin.

“If you’d like to,” Jon murmured, eyes shifting focus to Martin’s curls, plastered to his forehead from the snow; his collar, peeking through his coat; the way the shell of his ear seemed to have a nick missing (was it from a childhood accident? Just the way it was grown?). “I’d like to go out again.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand, and Jon’s eyes flitted back to Martin’s own; they were grey-blue and reminded Jon of his childhood sea. “Mmhmm, yeah.” Martin rolled his eyes at his own words and tried again. “Yes, Jon, I’d love that.” Martin moved to hug Jon, a gesture Jon eagerly accepted, relishing the warm arms encircling him and the feel of Martin’s chin resting on the crown of his head. As they pulled away, Martin’s eyes flitted across Jon’s face and the hand around his back moved, cautiously, to rest on the side of Jon’s neck.

“I…I don’t want to presume,” Martin said quietly, and Jon was distinctly aware of how empty, how big, the station was. “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Jon blinked rapidly, nodding wordlessly, before clearing his throat. “Ah, um, yes. Please.”

Martin’s smile was soft as he pressed his lips to the apex of Jon’s cheekbone, almost into his hairline. Jon was sure the blush that rose across his face this time certainly couldn’t be explained away by the snow, but he honestly wasn’t really sure he cared.

[thegirlwhomoanedwolf]

Lust spell

Dark lord x reader

virgin reader does a sex spell after giving up on waiting for the dark lord... guess who shows up ;)

Warnings: 18+, hair pulling

(Y/n) sighed tapping a pen against her soft lips. She laid on her stomach books spread all around her large bed. Reading the page of the demonomicon again she tried to deeper understand its meaning. She wanted to know everything she could about magic and most importantly the dark lord. She was at the top of her class before she graduated from the academy of unseen arts and truly lived to make the dark lord proud. Realizing she wouldn’t learn anything else so exhausted from hours of reading and writing any new findings she moved from her bed grabbing her books placing them back on one of the many bookshelves in her candlelit room.

Deciding to get ready for bed she moved into her eclectic bathroom and began to fill the enormous claw foot tub with steaming hot water. She looked over to the cabinet of oils and dried herbs an idea coming to her mind. (Y/n) was beautiful and had the attention of everyone at the academy when she attended but none of them ever caught her eye. This didn’t mean she didn’t have desires like everyone else but she was saving herself for the dark lord. She knew it was unrealistic but if she had enough faith maybe he would listen. It had been years of thinking this way and pleasuring herself trying to keep the will power to wait for him. Her need was becoming too much. She needed real release.

Walking over to the wooden cabinet and grabbing handfuls of dried roses, baby’s breath and lavender she sprinkled them into the tub beginning to set her intention for the spell. Stripping her clothes she grabbed the most important part of the spell. The ornate glass bottle felt warm in her hand as she poured the oil over her chest. The feeling sent tingles through her body. The lust oil made her desire stronger than usual which would be necessary if she wanted the spell to work. After rubbing the oil all over (y/n) stepped into the tub fully submerging her glistening body.

After performing the spell she lay in the tub and prayed to the dark lord. (Y/n) continued to soak in the tub when a loud knock on her front door startled her. There was no way the spell worked that quickly she thought as she stepped out of the tub and threw on a black silk robe. Curious as to who was knocking on her door so late she opened it. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted her. The most gorgeous man she had ever seen towered above her practically nude. All he had was a small cloth tied around his waist and she realized he was covered in dirt. Maybe her spell had come true so soon.

“ Hello miss I hope I didn’t startle you, your house is the first one I’ve come across and I’m not sure how I got here,” the man spoke in a voice that was innocent yet pure sex. This was definitely the spell alright.

“Please come in,” (y/n) said as she stepped out of the doorway quickly. Lucifer came inside hiding his smile at how easy it was for him to lie to her and how for all her prayers and devotion she couldn’t tell it was him. Trying to be kind to the man (y/n) asked “ are you hungry?”

“ very,” Lucifer said as he looked over (y/n)s body the the meaning changed by the way he said it. “ I’m filthy though and would like to clean up first if possible?” He asked pretending to be a gentleman.

“ of course, I was actually just taking a bath and it’s still hot if you wouldn’t mind that.”

“ I can tell,” he said looking her over. Her skin was glowing from the oil on her body that was only covered by a small bath robe and he couldn’t wait to see what was underneath. “ a bath would be wonderful.” He followed her into the candlelit bathroom watching as she bent over to add more hot water.

“ I’ll leave this running so you can turn it off when it’s hot enough.” (Y/n) pressed her thighs together trying to stop the ache this beautiful man was creating.

She began to walk out of the bathroom looking back to shut the door behind her stopping in her tracks as the toned man removed the small piece of cloth his muscular ass fully on display. Paralyzed by his beauty she couldn’t look away. He turned slowly to step into the bath his large member now in view. ‘oh my satan,’ she thought biting her lip disappointed when he sunk down into the tub. Lucifer smirked hearing her prayer and looked over to her. “ Would you mind helping me with my back ?”

“I don’t mind ,”she responded breathily and grabbed a cloth walking over to the tub. Getting on her knees to be at the same level Lucifer thought of what he really wanted her to do on her knees and could feel himself begin to grow. “ (Y/n) dipped the cloth into the water then onto Lucifers back watching as the dirt wiped away easily. Sitting behind him she so badly wanted to run her fingers through his curly hair and decided to wash it as an excuse. Ringing the cloth in his hair she then added soap and began to lather it. As she massaged his scalp he let out a moan.

“ That feels incredible,” he moaned again causing butterflies in her stomach. (Y/n) continued wanting to please him in more ways than one. She grabbed the cloth again ready to rinse his hair but he slid under the water giving her a full view of his nakedness. ‘ oh my fucking satan’ she thought his member now fully erect and even bigger than she had seen before. Explicit images formed in her mind as he sat back up and turned to her, “ would you like to join me?”

( y/n)s heart beat in her chest knowing what was to come. He motioned to the tub and she slowly stood silently accepting his offer. She was ready to completely give herself to him. Standing at the edge of the tub she looked down at him biting her lip. He moved to the edge his fingers on the silk bow of her robe pulling and slowly undoing it. ( y/n) let the robe fall off of her and saw the desire in his eyes. Lucifer ran a finger over her nipple enjoying the small tremble it caused her. He held out his strong hand helping her step into the tub her back toward him. She sat turned away from him leaving enough distance so that they weren’t yet touching.

Lucifer moved his arms around her pulling her back against his chest. (Y/n) gasped now feeling his large member against her back. “ relax,” he whispered softly and she let the tension leave her body. Lucifer moved his hands to her thighs rubbing them and began to move even higher up. He moved his mouth to her neck kissing below her ear. “ so beautiful.” His hand traveled to her clit keeping still as she moaned softly at the sensation. “ no one has touched you here before me.” He stated.

“ no,” (y/n) replied thinking it was a question.

“ I will give you pleasure no other could,” He whispered as he began to rub her clit.

“ oh yes,” (y/n) softly moaned, his fingers doing magic against her most intimate spot. Lucifer kissed her neck and shoulder loving the reactions he was pulling from her body. He could feel her tensing slightly and knew the pleasure was going to overtake her soon. He moved his other hand to her opening teasing her folds with a finger.

“ I wish to be inside you so badly,” he slowly thrust a finger inside his eyes rolling at her tightness. He worked her with his finger the other hand circling her clit. (Y/n)s walls were starting to flutter around his finger so close to letting go. “I wish to feel you shake around my cock giving in to the pleasure.” She began to shake almost there, “ give in (y/n) .” With that her orgasm ripped through her. A shriek left her lips and Lucifer smiled excited to see how she would react to his member.

( y/n) lay back against Lucifers chest breathing heavily coming down from her orgasm. The cloudiness from her mind disappearing a realization hit her and she tensed nervous this time. “ how did you know my name ?”

“ I know all my children’s names (y/n).” He turned her face to look up at him the shock was evident on her face. “ You are very special though, I wouldn’t just leave hell for anyone. How sweet you were planning to wait for me.”

She looked up at his beautiful face still in shock, “ dark lord I’m so sorry... I .”

“ Do not apologize,” he said sternly interrupting her. Lucifer looked deep into her (y/e/c) eyes filled with worry, “ show me you still have faith,” he said sweetly and seductively. Just like that the worry of upsetting him was gone and (y/n) knew how to prove her loyalty. Adjusting herself quickly in the tub she pressed her lips to his her hand wrapping in his hair for balance. Lucifer wrapped his strong arms around her possessively pulling her as close to him as possible while exploring her soft mouth. Now that she was seated above him he leaned forward and wrapped her legs around his waist holding her tightly as he lifted them from the water. He continued to kiss her as he carried them out of the tub and into the hallway. She squirmed in his arms desperate for more bringing out the beast in him. Moving to her bedroom quickly he kicked the door open and laid her down on her overly cushioned bed hovering above her.

“ please dark lord,” she whimpered as he moved to kiss her neck and chest. Years of waiting and she was so close yet so far. Reaching down between them she wrapped her small hand around him causing him to pin her hands to the bed quickly. (Y/n) looked up at him her chest heaving as she watched his gaze travel over her body. Her need for him was overwhelming, “ I need you so bad it hurts.”

With that he let go of her hands and they wrapped around his back as he leaned down and kissed her gently. He grabbed his large member in his hand lining it up with her glistening opening. (Y/n) gasped at the feel of his skin against hers as he ran his tip up and down her folds teasing her. ‘ oh dark lord please I can’t take it anymore I need you’ she prayed knowing he would hear. He pulled his lips away from hers and she looked at his angelic face as he softly spoke “ I will show you mercy.” He sunk into her forcefully causing her to cry out his large member stretching her more than she thought she could handle.

Lucifers fingers found her clit caressing it roughly as he thrusted again slowly this time filling her completely. The added sensation on her clit made her eyes roll in her head. The pleasure was too much but she didn’t want it to stop.

“ yes dark lord!” She exclaimed encouraging him even more. “ you feel amazing.”

Her words stroked his ego as her pussy stroked his cock. “ you are hell on earth (y/n),” he grunted as she tightened around him even more. He thrusted slow and hard reveling in her. He looked down at where they were connected and watched as her folds gripped him tightly bringing him close to release. Lucifer began to rub her faster his thrusts picking up pace along with her moans. (Y/n)s legs began to tremble and he looked down at her in awe of her beauty. “Cum for me little witch.”

An earth shattering orgasm overtook her body and soul. She never wanted it to end and it seemed like it wasn’t going to. Lucifer groaned as her walls began to milk him and he thrusted into her prolonging both of their orgasms even further.

He laid on top of her still enveloped by her and kissed her cheek sweetly. “ That alone was worth being kicked out of heaven”

(y/n) blushed not expecting his kindness and worriedly asked, “ will you be going back to hell now?”

“ of course I’m the king,” he said arrogantly. Caressing her bottom lip and kissing her Lucifer pulled away and added “ would you like to be a queen (y/n)?”

[ggukcangetit]

Name of the Game: ksj fic (M)

title: Name of the Game

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre/au: Anastasia AU, fluff, mystery, a bit of angst, smut, comedy

rating: 18+

word count: 14.2k

warnings: lost identity, slightly graphic description of a car accident including mentions of blood and dead bodies, minor character deaths mentioned, mentions of nightmares, mentions of past trauma, y/n gets lost multiple times, sexual content including oral (f and m receiving), kissing, grinding, fingering, breast play, nudity, unprotected sex (PLEASE USE PROTECTION).

summary: The Hotel -Strange, The Manager - Far Too Charming, The Situation - Dire, The One in Trouble - You.

a/n: here’s my adaptation of the 1997 animated Anastasia film! the idea of the hotel was inspired by the Spanish tv series - Grand Hotel! i didn’t manage to finish this by the deadline. but it is finally over. i’m not very happy with how this story turned out but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless. this was part of the Wish Upon A Star collab featuring some incredible writers and their brilliant adaptations/interpretations of different stories from our childhood. 

The address seemed correct. You had asked three people on the way over, and they had all pointed you in the same direction, accompanied by a knowing look. And in a way, they were completely correct. Concordia was a Gothic style castle, standing tall in the midst of acres and acres of lush green fields - a foreboding structure lost in time, separated from the rest of the world by sheer distance. In fact, the nearest payphone and gas station had been almost 100 miles away -  which you had used to phone the Mins.

“I think I’m almost there,” you spoke into the phone, surveying your surroundings doubtfully. “I asked a bunch of people and they all told me it’s just a few minutes away.”

They had lied. It took you at least 3 more hours to bike there.

“You sure you aren’t lost, kiddo?” You could almost see the teasing grin on Yoongi’s face.

“Oh, would you look at that? My time’s almost up” - you rolled your eyes at Yoongi’s giggles filtered through the receiver - “I’ll give you a call once I find accomodation, Yoongi! Take care, and don’t swipe any more tangerines from the shop!”

“Look out for yourself, kiddo.”

You had lived with the Mins for the better part of your 21 years of existence. They had found you almost 12 years ago, sitting under a large tree, bawling your eyes out. You had no memory of how you had gotten there, or who you were - just your name and a very battered piece of sheet music in your pocket. It was solely due to the kindness of a young couple who ran a modest cafe that you were even alive at this point. Their only son, Yoongi, preferred to lord his 4-5 year age difference by calling you ‘kiddo’. You would rather die before admitting it, but you really adored the nickname. 

Living life without an identity, without any roots, without a past - it was inconvenient at best, and unsettling at worst. You were eternally grateful to the Mins for everything they had done for you, but the first indication of financial distress arising from difficulties at the cafe had prompted you to pack your bags and leave in search of a job. 

Concordia was a name everyone knew. It was one of the oldest hotels in the country, passed down through 4 generations, known for its grandeur, luxury, and exquisite service. But most importantly, the food at Concordia was absolutely legendary. People saved up money throughout the year, so that they could travel to the hotel and try the food just once. And as a person who didn’t have much to lose, you decided that this would be the perfect place to apply for a position in the kitchens. 

What you hadn’t expected was to come across a gigantic looming structure, more suited for housing a reclusive vampire with horrible mood swings or a flamboyant literary figure prone to wild fantasies and nights of debauchery. Or both. 

You had almost turned back after seeing the castle for the first time - it didn’t seem like a place you’d want to spend more than a few seconds in. But something inside you kept nudging you forward.

There were two men standing at the main doors, looking equally formidable and archaic as the building they were guarding. After a few terrible attempts at convincing them to let you in, you gave up on the idea.

You looked around carefully. Surely there was another way of getting in. Once you were inside, you could convince whoever was in charge to give you a chance. You just needed one chance to prove yourself. Just one. 

Just then, a couple of people walked out using some kind of side entrance - a magnificently dressed woman and a young man with a certain swagger in his steps.

You crept over towards them, hoping that something from their conversation would help you out.

“I don’t understand why that silly girl creates such a fuss about bringing food to my room!” The woman rolled her eyes and brought a cigarette to her lips.

The young man took a lighter out of his pocket and lit the cigarette with a practiced sort of ease. “I’ll have a word with her, don’t worry.”

You strained your ears, trying to figure out just what they were talking about. Something to do with the hotel?

“But Mr. Kim,” she continued, taking a step closer to the young man. “Why can’t you bring my food up to my room?” The tone of her voice had most definitely changed, dropping a few octaves as she tilted her head to one side. 

“Now, now, Mrs. Trent,” he replied, with a hint of a chuckle. “You know that’s against hotel policy.”

With that, he took a definite step back. 

“Shame,” she continued, sweeping her eyes over him. “Make sure Kate doesn’t make any more mistakes with my room service.”

“Will do, ma’am,” replied Mr. Kim. He bowed to her and showed her back inside using the side entrance.

This was your opportunity. 

You followed behind them, making sure to maintain a decent amount of distance, and slipped in before the large door slowly creaked shut.

The inside was comparatively more inviting than the exterior. Lanterns at every few feet provided soft, warm lighting, and the decor looked a lot more modern and familiar than expected. The side entrance opened into a sort of lounge area, filled with comfortable sofas, small wooden tables, and a few dozen bookshelves. A record player -

“Can I help you?”

You hurriedly stepped back from the person you had bumped into - the man from earlier, Mr. Kim. 

“Uh…” You floundered for words, caught off-guard by how handsome he was. Chocolate brown eyes, devastatingly plump lips, ridiculously broad shoulders, and strong eyebrows - one of which was quite beautifully arched as he sized you up.

“I-I got lost. I wandered away from the lobby. C-could you”- you straightened your posture, mustering up all of your confidence - “direct me back there? I need to complete my check-in.”

Mr. Kim stared at you for a few moments. He seemed to be considering your words. You weren’t dressed half as extravagantly as the woman from before - who was probably a good example of the hotel’s usual clientele - but you somehow resisted the urge to tug at your clothes self-consciously.

“Of course,” he flashed you a brilliant smile, gesturing towards another part of the hotel. “This way, ma’am.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, quickly turning it into a cough as he turned towards you inquiringly. 

“Sorry, my throat is absolutely parched.”

He smiled again. “I’ll get one of the staff to bring out some water and refreshments for you.”

You nodded weakly and stood there, trying to look like you belonged. 

As soon as Mr. Kim was out of sight, you headed in the direction he had gone. Hopefully it was towards the kitchens. If not… well, you didn’t want to think about that.

It was soon evident that you were lost. Whatever this corridor was, you had no idea where it led or whether Mr. Kim had headed that way at all. Perhaps you should have waited near the front desk and thought your plan through…

“Are you looking for something?”

You whirled around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. It belonged to a middle-aged woman, with a soft kind of beauty that had aged gracefully. You probably should have stuck to your story about being a guest who had gotten lost in the hotel. But something about her kind eyes encouraged you to tell her the truth.

“You want a job in the kitchens?” she asked, sounding a little skeptical. “My dear, there’s a way to apply for such positions. Why don’t you go back home and look at some proper avenues to apply for hotel internships?”

“Please,” you tried to keep the desperation out of your voice. “Just give me a chance. If I’m not capable, I’ll leave. But please, don’t turn me away.”

She sighed. “What’s your name, child?”

“Y/n.”

“What?” Her eyes seemed to well up for a moment, but she gathered herself quickly. “Y/n… Umm, alright. We’ll give you a try. One week. And if things don’t work out, you have to leave without a fuss.”

You beamed at her. “Thank you! You won’t regret it -”

She shook her head with a resigned smile. “Call me Yuna.”

Your first impression of Concordia had been spot on. There was something definitely off about the place. At the end of your first day working there, you noticed that all the staff seemed to get along with each other but there was a certain tension whenever the owners of the hotel were mentioned. Nobody said anything, but an uneasiness hung in the air every time. 

“So tomorrow,” Yuna turned towards you. She was the head chef and you had spent the entire day observing her as she directed everyone in the kitchen. “I’m going to ask you to help Kevin with the breakfasts. It’s not too tough - but in my experience, you can tell whether someone has potential by the way they cook eggs.”

You smiled. She had a subtle sense of humor, and everyone working with her absolutely adored her. She was the mother hen and head chef all rolled into one. 

“And about your accommodations-”

An interruption arrived in the form of the last person you wanted to see.

“Do we have any strawberry pastries left?” Mr. Kim asked, sauntering into the kitchen like he owned the place. 

You busied yourself with some dust that had miraculously lodged itself into your left eye at that very moment, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. But unfortunately, those piercing eyes had spotted you.

“Look who it is,” he drawled, walking over with slow, deliberate steps. All the amiable attentiveness in his eyes had been replaced with a calculating smugness. “Our lost check-in.”

“Ah, Seokjin,” Chef Yuna interrupted your staring match. “I see you’ve met our newest recruit - y/n. Y/n, this is Seokjin - my son.”

You gulped. “N-nice to meet you, Seokjin.”

“It’s Mr. Kim or Manager Kim to you, Lost Check-in,” he said, with a definite sneer. “Mum, forget about the pastry. I have a meeting with Madam Iris in a few minutes.”

With that, he walked off, leaving you a humiliated mess. Chef Yuna opened her mouth to say something but you were off without a second thought. Manager or not, how dare he speak to you like that!

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim! KIM SEOKJIN!” you all but screamed, finally catching his attention. Although, if he hadn’t been ignoring you so obviously, he would’ve turned around sooner.

“What is it, Lost Check-in? I have more important things to do,” he asked, huffing much louder than necessary.

“Why did you speak to me like that?” You glared at him, trying to keep your temper in check. “I know I lied to you before but that’s no way to talk to another human being.”

He stared at you for a few moments, and once again you got the distinct impression that he could see right through you. It took all of your determination to not break eye contact.

“Because,” he whispered, leaning in closer. “You aren’t a guest here. So I don’t need to be nice to you. Do you understand, Lost Check-in?”

You stood rooted to the spot, goosebumps breaking out all over your body. 

“S-stop calling me that!” you yelled, long after he had walked off.

Concordia belonged to the Chavalenet family. Madam Eva Chavalenet, the matriarch of the family, was silent, formidable, and barely ever seen by any of the guests or staff at the hotel; Madam Iris Farrow, Eva’s daughter, was intelligent, graceful, and extremely beautiful. She ran the hotel along with her husband, Anthony Farrow, who was the family’s solicitor. Iris and Anthony had an eight year old son - Ryan - who was an absolute terror, and someone Seokjin did not like having around. 

Unfortunately, management meetings meant that he would be seated at the antique dining table in the Chavalenet’s residential quarters, trying his best to avoid whatever it was that the young heir would try and lob at him, while the boy’s mother rattled off a long list of things for him to take care of. Seokjin couldn’t understand why none of the members of the family attempted to, or even wanted to, keep the child under control.

“Seokjin,” Madam Iris began the meeting, pulling out her expensive looking reading glasses out of her equally expensive looking purse. “The last few months have not been good for the hotel. We will need to have some layoffs.”

Seokjin kept his expression neutral. This wasn’t the first time staff had been laid off over the past year. Whoever was managing the hotel’s accounts was either doing a terrible job, or the expenses had truly outrun the income they generated from the guests. The former was the more likely possibility because people paid a pretty penny to come and stay at Concordia, and as far as he could remember, business had been booming since he had been promoted to manager two years ago.

“We’ve reviewed the staff’s evaluation forms and come to the decision that housekeeping and kitchen staff need to be reduced by 8 overall. We’ll leave it up to you to make the final decisions.” She looked up from the stack of papers in front of her and gave him a small smile. “It’s going to be difficult, so make sure to consult Chef Yuna and get her opinion on the matter as well.”

Management meetings always proceeded like this. Madam Iris gave him orders, Anthony Farrow agreed to every word she said, and Madam Eva remained unyielding in her silence. Previously, the Assistant Manager would also join these meetings - but ever since the position had been terminated, it was always the four of them. And that annoying brat, of course. 

“Before I forget,” Anthony said, turning his gaze towards Seokjin. “Make sure the sheets in our room are washed with the new ultra fine formula detergent.”

Seokjin’s jaw ticked in irritation. Anthony Farrow had married above his station, doing everything that his wife and mother-in-law asked him to do. It was only while interacting with the hotel staff that Anthony found his voice and used it with incredible high-handedness.

“Darling, don’t bother Seokjin like that.” Madam Iris understood the strategy of appeasement very well. “I will speak to Helen when she comes up to our room tomorrow morning.”

Usually, this was when the meeting would end and everyone would head back to their rooms. 

Today, however, there was an unusual interruption in the form of-

“I’m so sorry! I got lost on the way to the kitchens!”

Seokjin stared in astonishment as you hastily tried to explain why you had quite literally stumbled into the management meeting. It wasn’t that you were doing a bad job of it, per se… It was just a very tough crowd. 

“How long have you been working here, girl?” snapped Anthony.

“I’m new,” you answered, shortly.

Before Anthony could express his outrage at the tone of your response, Madam Iris stepped forward and surveyed you carefully. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

Something flickered in her gaze but she masked it quickly. “Well, y/n, this is very disappointing indeed. Usually our staff know how to conduct themselves in front of the guests and the owners. I’m afraid-”

“Let her be.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Madam Eva who had spoken for the first time that night. In fact, Seokjin couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken voluntarily in the first place.

“Mother?” Madam Iris looked confused.

“The meeting is over. No need for unnecessary fuss.” Her tone was final and no one dared say anything after that.

Seokjin wasn’t sure if you understood the significance of the moment. But before any further damage could be done, you had excused yourself with an apology and left the room. 

You woke up early the next morning, partly because of another nightmare and partly because you were anxious to get to work on time. Chef Yuna may have taken on a complete stranger the day before, but you were pretty sure her kindness wouldn’t extend any further if you messed up.

On your way to the kitchens, you found yourself lost once again. It was the hotel’s fault, really. It was far too large and had one too many winding corridors. How did the guests find their way around without getting hopelessly lost? Was there some sort of map that was given out to them at the time of check-in? 

A sudden movement from a few feet away caught your eye. It was a shadow - which meant that there was someone moving about in the alcove. 

Curiosity got the better of you and your feet headed towards the person, wondering who it-

“Mr. Kim?!” 

There was no mistaking those broad shoulders. Kim Seokjin stumbled slightly, startled by your presence. 

“I-I can explai-” he stopped abruptly when he realised it was you. “Oh, it’s just you.”

You glared at him, offended by his tone. “What were you doing just now?”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” he shrugged, attempting to leave without divulging any more information. 

“So you just skulk around dark alcoves indulging in shady behavior for no particular reason?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was so easy for him to regain control of the situation with that penetrating gaze and intimidating body language. “But more importantly, what are you doing in this part of the hotel?”

“I got lost again,” you muttered, looking away in embarrassment. 

“And instead of being thankful that you bumped into someone who could help you find your way back, you’re accusing me of - what was it? Ah, that’s right, ‘indulging in shady behavior’,” he emphasized the last few words with air quotes.

“As if you would have helped me!” you retaliated. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you sent me off in the complete opposite direction and made sure I never found my way back again!”

“I wouldn’t have,” he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “But now that you’ve brought it up, I’m going to do precisely that.”

You gaped after him. What exactly did he have against you?!

“If you don’t take me back to the kitchens,” you said, making him slow down. “I’ll tell Madam Eva that you were lurking about in places you have no business being.”

It was a long shot. But something about the atmosphere the previous night had indicated that Madam Eva’s approval was hard to come by. And the entire room had been quite shocked when she had asked for you to be left alone. 

Seokjin stopped and turned around slowly. Your threat seemed to have done the trick because he didn’t look quite as smug as he had a few moments ago. “Fast learner, aren’t you?”

You held your ground, determined not to be shaken by his intimidation tactics. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” He began walking again, in a different direction this time.

You held back a grin and followed behind him.

“But if you ever” - he whirled around suddenly, taking you by surprise - “think of blackmailing me again, things will not end well for you. Understand, Lost Check-in?”

Overall, your second day working at Concordia had not been very eventful. Chef Yuna had been very pleased with how you had prepared the eggs and potatoes for breakfast. She was looking more inclined to keeping you on permanently. Besides that, not much had really happened. You found out more about your coworkers - Kevin, Michelle and Laila. All three of them had been working there for more than two years and seemed likeable enough at first glance. 

Chef Yuna herself was something of a genius in the kitchen. While she didn’t cook often, her instructions were impeccable, and the one dish that she had cooked for dinner had been so incredible that five guests had sent back compliments to the chef. On top of that, her pleasant personality made her a hit with almost everyone. 

You could see where Seokjin got his charms from. He had a way of drawing people towards him with a combination of beautifully arranged words, intuitive actions, and overall handsome aura.

Although, there was something slightly sinister about the way he operated. You realised that the incident with Mrs. Trent had not been a solitary one. Manager Kim regularly charmed gifts, favours, and cash out of the guests. You had observed him on more than a couple of occasions, just chatting with some guest, and before you knew it there was something small being passed into his hands. And it wasn’t just women who gave him things either. 

“I hope you enjoyed the classical music session in the grand hall last night, Mr. Cowen,” said Seokjin, talking to the elderly gentleman seated near the balcony. “There’s another one scheduled for the end of next week, if you’re still staying here at that time.”

Mr. Cowen seemed utterly delighted to hear this, and not only extended his stay at the hotel but also pressed a rather thick envelope into his palm. No doubt, this was a regular occurrence because Seokjin was just incredibly smooth at handling everything that people handed to him. 

You made it a point to avoid him as much as possible. And your little stunt that morning had also ensured that Seokjin left you well alone. All in all, it was an arrangement you were quite happy with.

“Y/n, don’t forget about tonight!”

You turned towards Laila, confusion lining your expression. 

“Tonight?”

Laila rolled her eyes. “I told you about it yesterday, remember? We have a staff gathering every Friday evening! It’s basically a small party where we eat, drink, and dance to music on the manager’s boombox! It’s a lot of fun!”

You scrunched up your nose at the mention of Seokjin. But Laila looked so excited that you figured it was worth going to. Not that you had any other grand plans for the evening…

“Sure! Where does the party usually happen?”

“There’s a large unused room below the lobby,” explained Laila, eyes sparkling in excitement. “The Chavalenets don’t keep any hotel events there because it’s on a lower level, so we take advantage of that and have a good time there instead!”

“Sounds fun! I’ll be there!”

“Oh, and don’t forget to dress up!”

You stumbled on thin air. “Dress up?”

“Of course! It’s a party, y/n!” 

“I don’t have any fancy clothes…” you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

That did not seem to faze Laila. “Well, it’s a good thing I have tons to spare!”

Later that night, you walked into the forgotten room below, dressed in a knee-length, midnight blue dress courtesy Laila. She had insisted on you wearing a pair of sparkly earrings as well, claiming that you absolutely could not proceed without it because it matched the little sparkles in your dress. 

You were quite glad that you had followed her advice because everyone else clearly took these small Friday gatherings very seriously. In fact, this party turned out to be the most free-flowing gathering you had encountered since stepping into the hotel. Gone was the stiff, unnatural feeling that usually clung to the atmosphere. Replaced, instead, by normal conversations, comfortable interactions, and a general feeling of warmth and comfort. 

“Y/n, you look beautiful!” Chef Yuna walked over to you with a big smile on her face. 

“Thank you! Though, I’d say most of the credit goes to Laila for letting me borrow her dress.”

Chef Yuna laughed and pointed you in the direction of the snack table. Your eyes sparkled at the sight of every dish sitting there - shrimp appetizers with a subtle garlic dip, baskets full of freshly baked bread rolls, two large bowls of salad, slices of turkey, chicken, and salami, and a very delectable looking cake with fresh cream and strawberries.

“Y/n, where did you learn to cook? Do you have any formal training?” Penny, who worked at the front desk, had only spoken to you in passing before. 

“Oh, the family I lived with owned a cafe,” you said, sipping the punch slowly. It was a little too tart for you. “I used to help out a lot here and there, and eventually got quite interested in cooking. But I don’t have any formal training.”

“That’s odd.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Penny shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t have any training or experience, but Chef Yuna still hired you. I can’t see why.”

“Well, I’m grateful that she gave me a chance,” you said, a small frown gracing your features. “Otherwise I’d be unemployed and homeless.”

Penny took this as an indication to leave. You wandered around the room, avoiding people, and mulling over her words. It was a bit odd that you had been hired. Although you had tried to keep yourself from overthinking the reason behind it, now that Penny - a relative outsider - had pointed it out, you felt a little uneasy. Surely, there wasn’t a sinister motive involved…

“Shoot! The tape’s jammed!”

Kevin fumbled with the boombox, trying to open it and take the cassette out. A mass of wriggly black tape shot out after a few moments, startling him enough to make him lose his balance and fall on top of Laila. 

“My dress!” Laila yelled, as the punch spilled on her cream colored outfit. 

“I’m so sorry!” Kevin hastened to get off her, and looked around helplessly.

“Let me take a look at it,” you came over, inspecting the tape and boombox. “I can fix this but I’m not sure about your dress, Laila.”

Kevin was relieved that the tape emergency was over, but one look at Laila’s furious expression wiped the relief off his face. Chef Yuna placated Laila with promises of a home remedy for the stain, while you busied yourself working on the boombox.

Yoongi’s obsession with music, and any and all technology related to music, meant that you had seen him fixing countless tangled cassette tapes before. The boombox hadn’t eaten any of the tape, thankfully, so you looked around for a pen or pencil with which to wind the tape back into place. There didn’t seem to be any in the room, but Michelle told you that there was plenty of stationary in the backroom of the kitchens. 

While walking up the stairs, you noticed something moving about in the shadows. Was it Seokjin being shady again? Surely not…

“UGH!!!!!”

Alas. It was exactly that.

Well, not exactly. This time around, something had frightened him so much that he had let out an almighty shriek, jumped two feet into the air, and accidentally hurled a large bunch of keys in your direction. 

You realized it was accidental because a few seconds later, Seokjin’s frantic voice could be heard searching for the keys.

“Where is it?” he muttered, crawling on all fours. 

You contemplated giving him back the bunch without any fuss. But the image of his annoyingly handsome face staring at you condescendingly made you reconsider your course of action.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, walking up to him slowly. 

Clearly, the man didn’t do well with sudden noises because he let out yet another loud yelp and fell on his backside. 

“What’s wrong with you?!” he demanded. “Why would you sneak up on someone like that?”

“I was walking by when I saw you being shady again. And for the record,” you added, kneeling down beside him. “It wouldn’t feel like I was sneaking up on you if you weren’t sneaking around yourself.”

He frowned at you, and you realised that he was still in his formal work clothes. Although, you could tell that he had been rummaging about for quite a while because his shirt had come untucked and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You tried not to let the pronounced veins on his arms distract you. The last thing you needed was for his obnoxiously large ego to become even more bloated by realizing that you found him extremely attractive.

But really, you didn’t need to worry about him realizing anything. For Kim Seokjin was busily trying to comprehend the fact that you were wearing a relatively short dress and kneeling down next to him. Never before had he contemplated how long and slender your legs were - but now that he had caught more than a glimpse, he couldn’t quite get those thoughts to leave him.

“What were you doing, anyway?” you asked, realizing that no one had spoken for a significant amount of time. “I’m beginning to think you’re either a sleepwalker or a very clumsy pervert.”

That seemed to snap him out of it. He got up quickly and dusted his pants, glaring at you the entire time.

“Neither. And you need to mind your own business, Lost Check-in.”

It was your turn to frown. “Stop calling me that.”

“Stop getting in my way,” he retorted.

“Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Or else what? You’ll get me into trouble?” he sneered.

You smirked and brought the bunch of keys out from behind your back. “Not at all. I’ll just keep the hotel’s main set of keys to myself and watch you get yourself into trouble.”

“Give that back!” He lunged at you, trying to get the keys back.

You should have thought this through more thoroughly. The initial advantage you had was now gone, and instead, the man before you was able to use his height and ample shoulders to his full advantage and trap you against the wall. You held the keys behind your back, determined to keep them away from him as long as possible.

Now that you were backed up to the wall, Seokjin had to press himself flush against you in order to get closer to the keys. His hands moved wildly, trying to feel for the keys and brushing against your thighs instead. 

The sudden contact made you jolt upwards, knocking both your heads together and temporarily ceasing the fight. 

Although, if anyone had seen the two of you, they definitely wouldn’t have thought you were in the middle of a fight - the angles and movements were much more like two people feeling each other up very heatedly.

“You’re such a pain,” Seokjin muttered, rubbing the spot on his forehead you had bumped into. The tips of his fingers were placed very gently against his forehead, but somehow the movement itself was extremely aggressive.

The image was so bizarre that you burst into giggles, doubling over and collapsing onto the floor. He stared at you for a few moments before the corners of his lips started twitching upwards as well. Sighing slowly, he sat down next to you.

“You’re very strange,” he said, though it lacked the usual crisp annoyance.

“You’re one to talk. Lurking in shadowy corners on more than one occasion,” you retorted, giving him a pointed look.

He sighed. “If you must know, I’m looking for the treasure.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Growing up at the hotel, I had always heard about rumors of a great treasure that was hidden somewhere here. Mind you, no one really knew anything concrete about this treasure. But the rumors were always fantastically exciting.” He paused, leaning his head back against the wall.

“If you’ve known about it for so many years, why are you searching for it now?” you asked.

“Because I don’t think the hotel will be running much longer.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Why not?”

“Financial problems. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s not been looking good for the past year.” A sad smile graced his features. “This hotel is my home, and it feels weird to think about a time where it won’t be a part of my life anymore. But I have to plan for the future, look ahead and make sure there’s a plan b in case the worst comes to.”

You remained silent. How were you supposed to respond to this?

“Anyway,” he continued. “Can I have the keys back?”

You looked at him, surveying his features closely. Once you moved beyond how handsome he was, you could see the determination in his eyes as well. This man was a survivor - just like you. That’s why you decided on your next course of action.

“I’ll help you.”

He blinked a few times. “Huh?”

“I’ll help you,” you repeated, handing the bunch of keys to him. “I’ll help you look for the treasure.”

It had been a week since you had started working at the hotel. Chef Yuna was satisfied with your work and hired you on a six-month contract.

“That way,” she said, while passing the contract to you. “You are free to leave the hotel if you find somewhere else you want to join. If not, we can just draw up another contract for you to continue.”

You smiled at her. She really was a very kind and compassionate person, who always looked out for the people around her. Unlike her son… 

Although maybe Kim Seokjin wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought he was.

“Lost Check-in! Don’t you look lovely today!”

Correction: he was just as bad as you had thought.

“Can you not breathe down my neck, Manager?” you said, through gritted teeth. He was currently standing right behind you, staring at the soup from over your shoulder. The close proximity meant that you could feel his breath on your neck - which was extremely unsettling.

He backed away a little and stared at you with mischief dancing in his eyes. You frowned and crossed your arms across your chest, anticipating some kind of sabotage. And sure enough, he suddenly leaned forward, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Do you know where the gummy bears are?” He pulled away slightly, tilting his head and gazing at you inquiringly.

“The gummy bears…?” you repeated, slightly dazed by the sensation of his lips on your ear.

He grinned and flicked your forehead softly. “I’ll just ask Laila.”

Apparently, Seokjin had a slight gummy bear addiction. Chef Yuna had banned any sort of gummies from the kitchen for that exact reason. Somehow, Seokjin managed to overcome that obstacle as well - he would ask the grocer to smuggle in his favorite rose colored gummy bears, even going as far as saying some guests had requested it but wanted it kept a secret. 

Laila, who you thought had a pretty obvious crush on Seokjin, was chosen as the gummy guardian in the kitchen, and occasionally, Kevin also helped hide the stash when things got too chaotic. It was only Michelle who would possibly disapprove, and therefore, was kept completely in the dark. 

“What was the manager talking to you about earlier, y/n?” Michelle came over to you after tea had been prepared for the guests. 

“Oh, uh-” you saw Laila desperately shaking her head from behind the counter. “Nothing in particular. He was just being tiresome.”

Michele frowned but nodded her head. “Okay. Just don’t fall for what he says, okay? Do your job properly and listen to Chef’s instructions. Everything will be fine that way.”

You nodded your head. What a curious thing to say… You wondered what had brought about this response from Michelle. Everyone in the hotel seemed to be very fairly fond of, if not incredibly smitten with, Seokjin. This was the first time you were witnessing such an explicitly negative response towards him. Even Madam Iris and her husband maintained a level of aloofness associated with the upper class. 

“Why does Michelle hate you?” You were standing next to Seokjin as he tried to jimmy the lock on a random cupboard in some random room. You still hadn’t been able to figure out what his process for finding the treasure was - it just seemed like a bunch of inaccurate guesses. But at least he had finally relented to your persistent nagging and asked you to join him on his next escapade.

“Why do you think she hates me?” he asked, frowning as the lock wouldn’t budge. When you didn’t respond, he turned towards you and chuckled at the skeptical expression on your face. “Okay yes, she isn’t particularly fond of me.”

“I figured that much out myself, funnily enough. What I’m asking is why?”

He hesitated a little, as if trying to find the right way to explain the situation. “Michelle and I were - uhm - we had a brief dalliance a couple of years ago. In fact, it was right after she had started working here. Things didn’t end well…”

You pressed your lips together, desperately trying to keep a straight face. It didn’t help that the tips of Seokjin’s ears had started to turn red as he finished recounting his story.

“You played her, didn’t you?” 

“No way! I would never-” he stopped, realising that you would not fall for his stories. “Yeah well, it’s not like I promised to marry her or something! We just kissed a few times and she helped get a couple of persistent guests off my back.”

“Yeah, you played her.”

He sighed, pushing past you on his way out of the room. “Whatever.”

It was incredibly amusing to see him annoyed and flustered like this. You made it a point to find out a few other things that would possibly elicit the same reaction from him. Maybe there was a particularly scandalous gummy bear story you could wedge out of Laila. 

Just as you both rounded the corner, something small and fidgety dashed into you, successfully knocking you off your feet. 

“Hey! What the hell?”

The bane of every hotel staff’s existence, the reason why a large crate of tomatoes had rolled down the main flight of stairs, the culprit behind the large pudding stain on the special ivory tablecloths, the spoilt young heir of the hotel - Ryan Farrow sat on the floor opposite you, seemingly delighted about the fact that he had managed to topple a new victim.

“Watch where you’re going, kid,” you said, trying to keep your temper in check. You had heard dozens of stories about the terrors unleashed upon your coworkers by this child, and even though this was your first direct interaction with him, you were already extremely annoyed.

“You watch where you’re going, old lady!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet and sticking his tongue out. 

“I am not an old lady!” you yelled, chasing after him as he began running off in the direction he had come from. “Hey! Get back here! You should say sor-”

The sight of a very displeased Madam Iris stopped you in your tracks. Ryan grinned at you from behind his mother, made a series of unfortunate gestures, and ran off before you could chase after him.

“Y/n,” Madam Iris spoke with a calmness not reflected in her eyes. “I’m not sure I understand what you were doing just now.”

You stood still, knowing that she had more to say, more excessively long sentences to use, more haughty expressions to display. 

“I can’t imagine that you’d be chasing my son around the hotel,” she continued, raising a thin eyebrow. “Yelling at him to apologize to you. What exactly would my son need to apologize to you for?”

“I wasn’t yelling at him,” you replied, stiffly. “He was too far away so I had to speak loudly. Also, he was running through the corridors very fast and could’ve hurt himself along with someone else. I was ju-”

“How dare you?” she frowned at you. “How dare you think you have any right to tell my son what he can and cannot do? This is basically his hotel. You work for him as much as you do for me and my mother.”

You bit your lip harshly to stop yourself from saying something that would land you in further trouble. 

“If I ever see you treating my son like that ever again,” she looked you up and down with a disdainful expression. “I will have you sacked immediately. Understood?”

You didn’t trust yourself to say anything more. Madam Iris gave you one final look of disapproval and walked off. 

“That was quite something.” 

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t feel like listening to your bullshit right now, Seokjin.”

After getting no response, you removed your hands from your face, only to be greeted by a large hand full of rose gummy bears. Seokjin stood in front of you, wiggling his eyebrows and nose, trying to indicate that you should take some of the gummy bears from his hand.

He looked cute. 

“Is there something wrong with these gummy bears?” you asked, once you had recovered from his oddly endearing actions. 

He frowned, a soft pout forming. “I’m appalled. Whatever differences we may have, Lost Check-in, I would never put my precious gummy bears in danger.”

You remained unconvinced, so he picked up a single gummy bear between his thumb and index finger, and popped it into his mouth. After a couple of chews, he thrust the gummy bears towards you, gently bobbing his head up and down to signal to you that it was safe to try some.

You rolled your eyes and picked up a couple of them. Seokjin was watching you intently, trying to gauge your reaction to his favorite treat. 

Your first instinct was to say that you hated it - it would be so much fun to watch his disappointment. But his large brown eyes were filled with a clear emotion - anticipation - the kind you feel when introducing your best friend to something you love. At least, that’s what you’d imagine the feeling would be, because you never really had a best friend before. 

“I like it.” It was a simple statement but somehow, it managed to earn a full-blown smile from him.

“Excellent! I knew you’d like it!”

Your face felt hot as he grabbed your hand and shoved the rest of the gummy bears into it.

“Oh, and I got this for you.” He reached into the inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a battered looking document. “It’s a map of the hotel - it’s quite old but I’ve scribbled down any new additions or structures that may have been added more recently.”

“Where’d you get this?” you asked, trying to avoid the more pressing question of why he was going out of his way to give this to you.

“Madam Eva gave it to me,” he replied, simply. 

“Madam Eva? Why would she give you a map of the hotel? Didn’t you grow up here? Why would you need it anyway?” The questions poured out before you could really check yourself.

“Oh hush, Lost Check-in,” he tutted, shaking his head. “I got it from her to give to you. So you wouldn’t keep losing yourself in dark corridors. I wouldn’t want you to bump into someone else like you did with me.”

“Huh?” was your very intelligent response.

Corridors. So many corridors. None of them leading anywhere. Just an endless path. No destination in sight. No doors on any sides. No rooms. Not a single person around. You were all alone. A single object far away. Too far away. The corridor doesn’t end. A figure in black. Growing larger. It was coming for you-

“It was a nightmare… thank god...” You woke up in a cold sweat, breathing harshly as you struggled to gather your surroundings. 

You were in your room, the gentle sounds of Michelle’s snores calming you down while you got up to get a drink of water. It didn’t seem like you would be able to get to sleep anytime soon so you decided to study the map Seokjin had given you. 

It was no wonder you kept getting lost in the hotel - it was massive and there were a number of rooms within rooms whose existence you wouldn’t be aware of unless you specifically knew where to find them. 

Your eyes wandered over to the top left corner of the map. That particular section of the map was much more faded than the rest of it, making it hard to decipher exactly what was there.

“Seokjin!” You burst into his room just as the clock struck 6 in the morning. “I think I know where we should be searching next! Th-”

You nearly collided with the table in the centre of the room as you realised exactly what you had stumbled upon. 

Seokjin doing his morning stretches. Seokjin, with bed hair and rosy cheeks, doing morning stretches. Seokjin, wearing a peach colored t-shirt and tiny pink shorts, with bed hair and rosy cheeks, doing morning stretches. Seokjin, whose ears were now a bright red, wearing a peach colored t-shirt and tiny pink shorts, with bed hair and rosy cheeks, doing morning stretches.

“Y/n?” he asked, looking very confused.

“Thigh- I mean, hi!” You looked away from the lower half of his body, donned in the most ridiculously tiny pair of tennis shorts you had ever laid eyes on. “I have an idea.”

“Okay? Is it related to knocking before you burst into someone’s room at the crack of dawn?” he replied, grinning cheekily.

“Shut up!” you scoffed, turning away from him. You didn’t need him to see how affected you were.

“Okay, just gimme a minute.”

Soon, he was back, appropriately dressed and smelling like strawberries. Of course he smelled like strawberries…

“So what was your great idea?” he asked, sitting down on the floor.

“I was looking through the map of the hotel,” you said, opening it up. “And this place right here on the top left corner of the map - I think this place would be worth a shot.”

“No.”

“No? Why not?!” You were slightly annoyed at how quickly he dismissed your suggestion.

“Because,” he said, pulling the map closer to himself. “This is where the Chavalenet suites are located.”

“Oh…” You frowned at the map. “But that means there’s a greater chance of finding the treasure over there! Have you looked there before?”

“No, because only select staff are allowed there during fixed hours. Madam Iris insists on it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I think we should check it out. Come on, we’ll be very careful! They’ll never know we were there!”

The earnest look in your eyes seemed to make Seokjin waver. He stared at you for a few moments before shaking his head resignedly. 

“What’s the worst that could happen… Ah, fine. Let’s plan on exploring that section of the hotel while dinner is being served. I know that Anthony requested a special performance by that famous children’s magician, so they should be occupied for much longer than usual.”

You grinned, collecting the map and getting ready to leave the room. “I’ll meet you outside the kitchens at 7!”

It was exactly twenty past 7 when you rushed out of the kitchen, nearly colliding with Seokjin in the process. He tapped his watch a few times, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly.  

“I hate that woman!” you huffed angrily, slipping into your jacket. “She actually requested that I peel all the potatoes for tonight’s dinner. Do you know how many potatoes were served tonight? 200!”

“You peeled 200 potatoes by yourself?” Seokjin raised his eyebrows in alarm. 

“No,” you sighed. “Chef Yuna got Laila to help me out but Madam Iris kept popping in every few minutes so she had to go back to doing something else. Mind you, I might not have finished at all tonight if she hadn’t helped me. But it still took an insane amount of time.”

The two of you walked towards the Chavalenets’ section of the hotel. It was located at the back of the building, effectively cut off from the usually busy portions of the hotel. 

“Why is this family so weird?” you complained, picking at a thread on your jacket. “One doesn’t speak, one is an evil tyrant, one is a spineless asshole, and don’t even get me started on the kid!”

Seokjin chuckled softly. “They weren’t always so weird. Especially not Madam Eva.”

“Really? I don’t believe it. She just sits there and watches her daughter do whatever she wants.”

“No, it’s true. She was a very powerful woman - used to command the attention of everyone in the room. Everyone respected her and she really cared about everyone in the hotel - staff and guests included. In fact, she was the one who introduced special events for guests during the evenings. She also had part of the hotel renovated so that there were more staff quarters.”

“So what happened?”

“A couple of things. About 15 years ago, Madam Eva’s husband passed away quite suddenly. Everyone was pretty shocked, but in hindsight it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. He liked to live it up - smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, and ate everything the doctors specifically asked him to avoid. Anyway, around the time of his death, rumors about the treasure started circulating. There was speculation that he had left something behind but hadn’t told the rest of the family. Overall, his death created a lot of upheaval in terms of property and inheritance issues.”

Seokjin paused, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

“It was about two years after that that Madam Eva’s son and his family died in a car crash. Adrian, his wife Sophie, and their little girl - who funnily enough had the same name as you.”

“Really?!” you asked, eyes widening in surprise. That would explain why Chef Yuna and the Chavalenets had reacted so strangely when they had heard your name.

“Yeah,” he said, turning towards you with a sad smile. “I still remember that day clearly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Madam Eva as devastated as she had been that day. The police barely managed to stop her from going to the crash site. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if she had managed to get there - apparently, the explosion was so bad that only a few body parts were recovered.”

“Wow…” You didn’t know what to say. The story sounded horrible on its own - what must it have been to actually have to live through it?

“Anyway, here we are” -Seokjin pointed at a couple of large doors next to each other - “that’s Madam Iris’ study and her and Anthony’s bedroom next to it. On the other end of the corridor is Madam Eva’s room and an empty ballroom where they sometimes hold meetings.”

“Okay, let’s start with the study.”

Madam Iris’ study was a very well organized room. There was no way you could rummage through it without moving something out of place. Seokjin suggested that each item should be returned to its place as soon as it was inspected, making sure that nothing was left to be put back at the end. It seemed like a pretty efficient system, but unfortunately, there appeared to be nothing useful that could point you towards the treasure.

“I knew it!” Seokjin stood up and waved a large paper notebook frantically. “I knew she was tampering with the books! There’s no way the hotel could be doing as badly as she claimed!”

You frowned and took a quick glance at the notebook. Not being familiar with any of the accounts, you looked at Seokjin for some help. He began explaining every single mistake with a feverish excitement, his words coming out faster as he got more excited. 

Suddenly, you heard a noise from outside the room. 

There was no need to check who it was - in whatever scenario, you and Seokjin could not be caught rifling through the papers in Madam Iris’ room. 

“Seokjin!” you whispered frantically. “Shut up! There’s someone coming!”

He wasn’t paying any attention to you, excitedly rattling off different things from the notebook. The voices were getting closer and in a last desperate attempt, you pulled him behind the large red curtains and smashed your lips to his.

That seemed to shut him up for a moment. But as he realized that your lips were on his, he attempted to pull away. There was no way you could risk letting Seokjin talk right now. So you moved your lips over his, kissing him fast and hard, while your fingers frantically tapped a pattern onto his left arm. Hopefully he would notice the pressure on his arm and understand that you were trying to tell him something - that you were trying to tell him to shut up for a few minutes.

Thankfully, he stopped struggling after a few taps on his arm, focusing on kissing you instead. 

You nearly missed out on the conversation happening at the other end of the room because Seokjin’s lips were just so damn powerful.

“Iris,” you recognized Madam Eva’s voice, low and stern. “I’m running out of patience. When is that lawyer husband of yours going to be done with the new staff contracts?”

“Mother, please, have patience. Anthony can’t just rush through such an important task. We need to everything is absolutely perfect before handing it over to you.”

“You have until the end of the month,” Madam Eva said, her voice ringing with finality. 

The door slammed shut and the sound of the two pairs of footsteps slowly receded into silence.

It took you a few seconds to realise that the coast was clear. Pulling away from him hastily, you took in the sight of his bruised lips and dazed expression. Pushing aside the delighted feeling blooming in the pit of your stomach, you brought his attention to the conversation you both had just overheard. 

“Sorry about that - I had to find some way to shut you up quickly! But more importantly, we need to find those contracts! Did you hear what they were saying? I’m sure Iris is planning something sinister!”

Seokjin had not, in fact, heard anything that had been said. His brain had started glitching as soon as your lips had descended on his. But it was only when you started tapping his hand, did his world come crashing around him. 

“Y/n! We aren’t supposed to be here! I’ll get into trouble if they find me here!” 

9 year old Seokjin had quite a few reservations about raiding the special chocolate cabinet that was kept locked and stored inside the grand ballroom. 

“Shh!” you whispered, pouting at him. “If you keep screaming like that, they’ll definitely find us!”

“What?!” Panic seized his entire body, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could think about them. “I knew it! This is a disaster! I’m going to be in so much trouble! Mum is gonna-”

The feeling of something soft on his cheeks made him halt his word vomit. Your lips, to be precise. 

Before he could overreact to this as well, you began tapping his forearm rhythmically. The movement snapped him out of shock, alerting him to the fact that two of the hotel staff were currently taking away the old centre pieces on the tables. 

He pulled away from you slowly, nodding his head to let you know that he would be quiet until they left.

It was a good 15 minutes later that the coast was finally clear. However, Seokjin’s ears were still red and his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Sorry, Jin,” you apologized, grinning at him mischievously. “I had to shut you up quickly!”

It came back to him in a rush. A pile of memories, falling from the sky and burying him under the emotions he had kept locked up for more than a decade.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. Madam Eva’s beloved granddaughter was still alive. You were still alive. You were Madam Eva’s granddaughter.

“I can’t believe I kissed him like that!”

You were currently having a mini meltdown inside your room. Thankfully, Michelle was still working so you had the whole place to yourself to rant about your ridiculous choice of actions.

“I could’ve just covered his mouth with my hand!” You buried your face in your hands. “But NO! I had to use my mouth to cover his mouth! What was I thinking? No! What is he thinking?! Fuck!”

This was getting too much. Your face felt unbelievably hot, and you couldn’t make sense of your own actions. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t kissed a guy before - in fact, those sloppy kisses you had shared with Yoongi’s best friend, Hoseok, had been quite enjoyable. But that was after Hoseok had said that he liked you - you hadn’t just jumped him out of nowhere!

“I’m such an idiot!” you groaned. 

There was no point screaming to yourself inside the room. Perhaps a walk around the hotel would help you calm down. You’d probably get lost again and it would take hours for you to find your way back. The perfect distraction!

The walk was beginning to do the trick - you were so busy examining the different paintings and statues lining the corridors that you ended up at some random part of the hotel, too immersed in what you had found to overthink the kiss.

“A piano?” You walked into the small room, marveling at the beautiful ivory piano situated in a corner. 

“It looks like no one’s used this in years,” you muttered to yourself, opening the keylid and lightly running your fingers over the keys. “Shame… it looks so magnificent.”

An idea popped up in your head. When the Mins had found you 12 years ago, the only object in your possession had been a roughly folded set of sheet music. Yoongi had saved up enough money to buy a second hand piano - but there hadn’t been enough keys on it to play the last page of the sheet music. 

But this grand piano would do nicely. 

Sneaking a peak around the room, you made sure that no one else was there. The last thing you needed was for Madam Iris or anyone from her family to catch you here. 

“Okay, let’s try this.”

The first note sounded rich, and the tone was definitely of more superior quality than the one you had practiced on with Yoongi. As you continued playing the piece, your thoughts wandered over to the Mins. A wave of homesickness hit you suddenly and images of the cafe sailed through your mind - you wondered how they were doing. Was the cafe managing a little better now? Maybe you’d use one of the hotel’s telephones to call Yoongi and see how they were doing…

“Huh?” You stopped playing, confused by the sound coming from the key you had just played. 

You were now on the last page of the sheet music - your right hand on the highest scale available. The e flat key did not sound right, and you checked the sheet music to make sure you were playing the right one. 

“No… this seems right. Why does it sound off?” you wondered, pressing the key a little harder this time.

All of a sudden, there was a loud creak and one of the wooden panels behind you sprung open. You nearly fell off the piano stool in shock, just barely managing to hold on as you waited for someone to jump out from the shadows and attack you.

Thankfully, no one did. But the panel remained open, subtly inviting you inside.

“What’s the harm in checking it out?” you reasoned with yourself. “No one’s going to find out.”

And so, you stepped through the opening, walking into a very large room filled with trunks of different sizes, a few large cabinets, and dozens of pictures set up all over. It almost resembled some kind of store room. Upon closer inspection, you realized that all the pictures were of the same people - a young man with a soft smile, a very beautiful woman standing next to him, and a little girl who never seemed to be facing the camera when the picture was taken.

They looked so familiar. Like something out of a dream. A dream that you were struggling to grasp at as it slipped away into your subconscious. 

With every picture you examined, the ache inside your chest grew. Soon, there were tears falling from your eyes as an overwhelming rush of memories hit you like a ton of bricks. Your father showing you the different keys on the piano while your mother fussed about not having enough time to teach you how to write. Your grandmother talking you on walks through the property, telling you stories about how there used to be deer and rabbits before most of the greenery was cleared away. Your family showering you with so much love while you raced about the hotel making new friends, playing hide and seek, and dragging your best friend along with you.

“It can’t be…” you wiped away your tears furiously. “How can this be true…”

You sat down on one of the trunks, burying your face in your hands. Your head hurt. Your chest hurt. Everything hurt. You wanted to cry. You also wanted to punch your way through the hard stone walls. 

You felt… lost.

“Are you sure?” Anthony asked his wife, the fear very apparent in his voice.

Madam Iris snapped at him. “Of course I’m sure! Would I be joking about something like this?”

Anthony gulped and looked down at his hands. “So Adrian and Sophie’s kid is still alive… what if they are too?!”

“No, they’re not,” she replied, shaking her head definitely. “I saw their bodies in the crash. It was just that pesky kid I couldn’t find…”

“You don’t think she’s back for revenge, do you?” 

“I’m pretty sure she has no idea about her true identity,” Madam Iris contemplated. “But it’s better to not take any chances - we should get rid of her quickly. Before someone else realizes who she is.”

Anthony stared at his wife doubtfully. “Doesn’t that seem a little extreme? I mean… she’ll probably never figure it out if she hasn’t already.”

“My darling,” Madam Iris sat beside him and took his hand in hers. “How many times have I told you not to use that little brain of yours? It’s landed us in a fix quite a few times already. So please, leave the planning to me. And just do as I say.”

“You aren’t joking, right?”

Seokjin sighed and shook his head. He had been trying to explain everything to his mother for the past half an hour - but every few minutes, she would give him a skeptical look and ask if he was playing some kind of elaborate prank.

“Why would I joke about something like this?”

Chef Yuna rubbed her forehead tiredly. “It did catch me by surprise when she said her name was ‘y/n’. My mind immediately thought of the little girl running around the hotel, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Seokjin smiled softly, recalling all the memories he had of you when you were both children. 

“Including yours, if I remember correctly,” his mother teased him.

Seokjin’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat loudly. “I don’t know how to tell her… that she’s part of the Chavalenet family. Probably even the next heir if we consider the inheritance laws.”

Chef Yuna nodded her head. “The oldest child of the oldest child will inherit the property.”

She looked at her son who was busily examining the skin around his fingernails - a habit he had picked up around the time of his promotion. It signaled a great amount of anxiety inside him. 

“Maybe you should talk to Madam Eva about this,” she said, gently. “It’s probably the best course of action right now.”

Seokjin nodded his head. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that Madam Eva would have to be told about this revelation. It was the next logical step - she would be the best person to tell you the truth.

But his heart felt heavy. On one hand, he was incredibly glad that you were still alive - his childhood friend, the only person he ever remembered being really close to. On the other hand, this meant that both of you belonged in separate worlds - worlds which were leagues apart, worlds which didn’t have any place for each other.

A part of him, selfishly, wanted to keep the truth to himself, and be able to stay by your side for a bit longer. Over the past couple of days, he had come to the startling revelation that he had feelings for you - and the thought of never being able to act on those feelings made his heart clench painfully. 

He wanted to kiss you again - properly, this time. But now, even if you somehow managed to return his feelings, there was no way the two of you would ever work out.

Life was quite unfair sometimes.

Madam Eva had tears in her eyes as she hugged you tightly to her chest. Soft sobs wracked her entire person, and you patted her back awkwardly.

“My sweet child,” she managed to say between sobs. “My sweet y/n. I can’t believe that you’re here in front of me! That you’re alive! I missed you so much!”

Truth be told, you were very overwhelmed by everything that had been going on the past couple of days. You had even briefly contemplated running away and going back to the Mins. 

But then Seokjin had told Madam Eva the truth - the truth you had no idea he was aware of.

And that had stung.

“How long have you known?” you asked him, once things had quietened down a little. 

“Two days,” he replied. His eyes looked sad and that annoyed you even more. Why was he sad?! He was the one who had figured out your identity and then revealed it to your family without once thinking of telling you anything! If anyone should be sad, it should be you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your tone was clipped as you tried your best to control the anger underneath.

“Huh?” 

You uncrossed your arms from over your chest. “If you knew, why didn’t you tell me? I should’ve been the first to know! I’m the one it affects most! How could you not tell me?!”

Seokjin recoiled a little. “I- uh- wasn’t completely sure. I didn’t want to confuse you.”

You let out a mirthless laugh. “How considerate! You didn’t want to confuse me? Well how do you think I feel now?! I was ambushed by a family and a past that I wasn’t prepared to confront! I was barely able to wrap my head around the memories that suddenly assaulted me when the whole hotel came crashing down on me in tears and embraces! HOW DO YOU THINK I FEEL, SEOKJIN?!”

You were yelling now as tears streamed down your face. Seokjin attempted to reach out to you but you brushed his hand aside roughly.

“Don’t touch me.” The words felt like they were choking inside your throat. “And don’t talk to me. Ever.”

You didn’t have much time to yourself as the hotel began preparing celebrations in honor of your return. The first item on the agenda was a bonfire organized by your grandmother. Everyone was very excited about it because it had been years since she had actively taken part in any hotel event. 

“Feels like the good old days!” Chef Yuna said, barely able to contain the excitement in her voice. “You lot have never been to an event organized by Madam Eva - they’re really a once in a lifetime kind of experience!”

It was just around dusk that everyone gathered around a large bonfire, prepared for an evening of song, dance, and wonderful food. The guests along with the hotel staff were extremely excited about the bonfire, but there were three faces that looked like they would rather be anywhere else but here.

The first was Madam Iris, whose hazel eyes burned with a cold anger as she watched everyone fuss over you. The second was her husband, Anthony Farrow, who looked pale and kept glancing at his wife nervously. And the third was you, who felt like you deserved none of this and couldn’t reconcile whatever was going on with what you had known for so many years.

“It has been many years since my heart felt any kind of joy,” Madam Eva began, looking around with a bright smile. “As many of you know, I lost my husband 15 years ago, and shortly afterwards, my son and daughter-in-law were killed in a car crash. All these years, I thought that I had lost my darling granddaughter as well - but somehow, the heavens have granted me a miracle. It’s been so many years since I last saw you, my dear y/n, and I cannot express how happy I am to see you again.”

Everyone clapped and cheered as she gave you another hug. Maybe you didn’t deserve it, but it felt nice to be showered with so much love and affection. You just wished you could remember something more - you had absolutely no memory of the car accident that had killed your parents even though many other little details about your past were very clear. 

“Please, everyone help yourselves to the food and drinks prepared by our talented Chef Yuna and her incredible team!”

Halfway through the event, everyone had scattered to different parts of the grounds. Besides the main bonfire, a number of small heating devices had been set up so that people could stay warm outdoors. 

You had just finished a small plate filled with dishes Chef Yuna had made. They were all incredible but everything felt like sandpaper in your mouth. You wondered when it would be okay for you to go back inside without it looking too impolite. 

Trudging back to the bonfire, you noticed that only Madam Iris was sitting there. You were in no mood to interact with her - she hadn’t been subtle about expressing her dislike towards you even after finding out who you really were.

Just before you could turn back, she stood up and walked over to pick up something that had fallen on the ground. She was wearing a billowy black cloak over her expensive clothes and the bonfire behind her illuminated her silhouette like…

The air is full of smoke. You cough and sit up, looking around for your parents.

“Mum! Dad!” you yell, coughing furiously. “Wh-where are you?!”

The smoke is getting in your eyes and you rub at them to try and clear your vision. You try and get up but the shooting pain in your left leg stops you. There’s a huge gash below your knee, red and brown as the dirt on the road mixes with your blood. 

“Mum! Dad!” you scream again, hoping that they might finally hear you. “Help me, please!”

Suddenly, a huge explosion rocks the area, sending you flying into the nearest obstacle. 

Your back hurts as you try and sit up again, trying to see where the explosion came from. Your eyes catch sight of a brilliant orange light, roaring against the night sky. 

A fire. 

And in front of the fire, stands a figure in a black cloak, looking so frightening that you start crying in fear.

“HELP!” you yell, struggling to get to your feet. 

The figure is getting closer and something inside you knows that you need to get away from it.

“HELP ME! PLEASE!” You have somehow managed to stand up, but fear keeps you paralyzed in place.

A sudden gust of wind blows through the night, shifting the direction of the embers, and you catch a glimpse of their face.

Suddenly, the ground beneath you wobbles and you find yourself hurtling down the side of the road. You try desperately to grab onto something but your momentum is too strong. You finally come to a stop after crashing into a tree, the last of your consciousness slipping away as the face comes back to haunt you.

It is your aunt, Iris.

“It was you!” you screamed, as the memories came back - the car crash, the chase that led to the crash, your parents’ frantic voices, your mother pushing you out of the car before it crashed. “You were there that night! You were chasing our car that night! You’re the one who watched us crash and didn’t do anything about it! You killed my parents!”

Madam Iris glared at you with unbridled hatred. “Shut up! Just SHUT UP! You ruined everything, you stupid little bitch! I was this close to getting everything!”

A fight ensued as Iris attacked you with all her might. At one point, Anthony joined in as well, and you were worried that you would be outnumbered. But somehow, Seokjin managed to find you and subdued Anthony quickly. After that, it didn’t take long for you to get the better of Iris - a few punches and she was down. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked her, panting for breath. 

She sat down by the tree, exhausted, but spitting venom from her eyes. “Fuck you.”

It turned out that Iris didn’t need to say anything. As soon as your grandmother had looked at Anthony sternly, the frightened man had opened his mouth and spilled each and every one of his wife’s secrets. It was quite a sad story overall. 

On that fateful night, 12 years ago, your father had found the ‘treasure’. Both he and Iris had been looking for it for days, believing that it was either a lot of priceless jewels or some very important property papers. After your father had found it, he had tried his best to keep it hidden, but Iris had found out about it anyway. A huge argument had taken place, following which your father had decided to run away with you and your mother. You had all snuck out in the middle of the night, driving off in a car with some of your belongings. Iris had given chase and watched as the car had crashed and then burst into flames. She had also believed that you had rolled down the edge of the road to your death. 

Over the past 12 years, she had tried to find out where your father had hidden the treasure, but did not succeed. In fact, it was you who had stumbled across it the night that you had found the hidden room behind the wooden panel. 

Alas! The treasure was not so much a treasure as a horrific surprise. Your grandfather had apparently sold off the hotel a few days before his death - and hidden the fact from everyone, including his wife and children. However, he had hidden the legal papers so that neither the new owners nor his family would ever be able to prove the fact. It was one last ridiculous game he had played before succumbing to all his vices. 

Iris’ grand plans of selling the hotel citing financial losses - which she had orchestrated herself - had also been foiled by the discovery of those papers. She and Anthony had been taken into police custody for further questioning. 

Your grandmother had taken the news of the sale relatively well. She had immediately packed her bags and left to visit the new owners, hoping to garner some goodwill in the process.

All of this had happened in a matter of a few hours, and you had completely forgotten about the injuries you had sustained from fighting your aunt. So, that was why you were currently sitting in the room behind the front desk, trying not to fidget as Seokjin tended to your wounds.

“That was… an interesting series of events,” he said, trying to ease the tension in the air. “I never really liked that woman but I definitely didn’t think she was that crazy.”

You remained silent. Seokjin continued to clean the cuts and scrapes carefully. Once again, you noticed how he gently held the cotton swab but then shook it vigorously to get the excess antiseptic off. It was strangely endearing, and made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Jin?” you used your nickname for him. 

He looked up from the cut on your knee, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Do you have any rose gummy bears?”

He blinked a few times before smiling and nodding his head. Quickly finishing up with the rest of injuries, he asked you to wait while he raided the secret stash. 

“Here.” He handed you a small bag full of his favorite gummy bears and sat down next to you.

You gave him a small smile and took out a couple of gummy bears, swiftly popping them into your mouth. Seokjin said nothing, waiting patiently for you to finish eating as many as you wanted.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, after a while.

“Of course.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

Seokjin’s ears turned red as he stared at the wall in front of him. His side profile was so gorgeous, soft lines defining his strong features. 

“Can I?” you asked, making him turn towards you. “Not to distract you. Not to prevent people from finding us. Nothing like that. Just” - you tilted your head to one side - “because I want to.”

He nodded his head slowly, giving you the permission you hadn’t asked for the last time. 

You drew him closer and softly kissed his lips. After a few seconds, he responded as well, cupping your cheek with his hand, and returning your kisses with enthusiasm.

“Why do you want to?” he asked, in between kisses. “Why do you want to kiss me?”

You pulled away and frowned at him. “You’re an ass. Why do you think I want to?”

He grinned, kissing you behind each ear and starting a slow path down your neck. “Indulge me.”

“It’s because- ugh!” you gasped as he nipped at the sensitive spot near your collarbone. “Because - because -”

He stopped his assault on your neck, eyes twinkling playfully. “Because?”

“Two can play at this game,” you muttered, incredibly embarrassed and equally turned on. You moved over to sit on his lap, grinding against him while leaving open mouthed kisses along his neck. Once his entire neck was sufficiently covered with light nips, you moved back to his lips, kissing him deep and hard.

“Y/n,” he gasped into your mouth. “I’m going to explode.”

“Are you now?” you whispered, swiping your tongue into his mouth and feeling your insides curl with pleasure. “Good.”

“I’m serious,” he managed to say between some very loud moans. “I’ll ruin my pants if we keep going like this.”

“Fine,” you said, hopping off and making quick work of his belt buckle. “Take it off then.”

“W-what?” he choked, unable to believe what he had just heard.

“Take off your pants.” You raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down carefully. “Do you know how many times I've thought about seeing that cock of yours after walking in on you doing morning stretches? Why the hell would you wear such tiny tennis shorts anyway?"

If possible, Seokjin's ears turned even more red. "A-are you sure? We don't need to rush or anything."

"Yeah, we don't. But I want to. So," you said, rubbing your palms along his legs. "Take off your pants."

Seokjin grinned, the cheeky glint back in his eyes. "If you insist. But I'm not going to be the only one losing their pants."

"With pleasure," you replied.

The pants were off and soon, the two of you were back to kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. His tongue ravaged your mouth while one of his hands dropped down between your legs and started rubbing you over your panties.

"Feels - mhmm - so good." You matched the rhythm of his fingers, bucking your hips into his hand. Your hand also moved down from his neck and palmed his cock, drawing the most delicious moans from him. Very soon your top and his shirt joined the pile of pants, leaving you both in just your underwear.

"Y/n," Seokjin groaned, taking in the sight of your breasts. "You're so hot."

The two of you remained like that for a bit, almost completely naked, tongues down each others' throats and hands rubbing each other into ecstasy. You felt wetness between your legs, clenching violently when he parted your panties and stroked you between your folds.

"Fuck..." you moaned into his mouth.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" he mumbled into your mouth. "Do you want me to use my mouth?"

Your brain could barely process what he had said, but you nodded anyway, senses hazy with pleasure.

"Okay, lie down for me, y/n" he said, pulling away from you. "Let me make you feel good."

You lay down on the sofa, legs parted, as Seokjin hovered over you. "So beautiful. So wet."

He began peppering your inner thighs with light kisses, making you squirm in pleasure. Making his way to your core at an agonizingly slow pace, he finally removed your panties and licked a stripe between your folds.

"Jin! Fuck! I-" Your hips shot up at the intense feeling.

He paid no heed to your moans, licking and slurping your pussy until you were absolutely on the edge.

"I'm close! Please!"

Seokjin plunged a finger inside, using his other hand to keep your legs down. The sensation of his long, slender finger inside you combined with the sight of his head between your thighs was enough for you to reach your climax.

Stars exploded in your vision as the orgasm rocked through you. Seokjin continued his beautiful work on your pussy until you breathed a shaky sigh of pleasure.

"Did you like it?" he asked, teasingly. There was no way he could've missed your screams of pleasure.

"How about I show you just how much I liked it?" you asked, sitting up and playing with the band of his underwear.

Seokjin smirked and quickly shimmied out of his underwear. "Be my guest."

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock - it was huge. Would he even be able to fit?

"Tell me what feels good," you said, licking long stripes up and down his length. Precum was leaking from his tip already, and you used your tongue to tease him further. Seokjin moaned, gripping the fabric of the sofa as you sucked his cock a few times.

"Don't tease, y/n," he managed with a lot of difficulty. "I don't think I can control myself for much longer."

Pressing a few small kisses to his tip, you leaned back and positioned yourself in front of him. "Okay, I think I'm ready."

A pained expression crossed his face as he took in the sight of you kneeling on your knees, waiting for him to cum.

"Maybe next time," he said, pulling you up to him and placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Right now, I want to be inside you."

"Are you sure?" you asked, returning his kiss.

"Yeah, but let's hurry," he mumbled, taking his throbbing red cock in his hand.

You laid down on the sofa again, spreading your legs for him. He positioned the tip of his cock in front of your entrance, rubbing you a few times before entering slowly.

"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered into your ear, before placing kisses all over your face and neck.

"Mm hmm,"you mumbled, getting used to the stretch.

Seokjin moved his mouth from your neck to your breast, placing sloppy kisses on the mounds before taking one of them in his mouth. You shuddered with pleasure as his tongue swirled around your nippled.

Your senses were getting overwhelmed again - Seokjin had started thrusting into you while simultaneously moving his mouth onto your other breast.

"Is this okay?" he managed between thrusts, his voice hoarse and delightfully sexy.

"Y-yeah, just do what you need to," you said, gripping his biceps with all your might.

He grunted in response, increasing the pace of his thrusts. The room was filled with the sounds of both your moans, and you knew that a second orgasm was building.

Just then, a shrill ring sounded through the room, startling you both. Seokjin barely managed to keep himself from falling off the sofa, placing a hand over his chest as he looked around wildly.

It was the telephone.

Seokjin sighed and pulled out of you, quickly going over to pick up the receiver.

"How can I help you?" he asked, standing there in his full naked glory.

You bit your lip as you drank in the sight of him - from his rippling shoulder muscles to his abs to his tapering waist and dangling cock.

"Of course, madam. But it is currently 2 in the morning. Please call after 7 am in order to make a reservation. Thank you. Have a good night."

Clicking the receiver in place, he rushed back to you, jumping onto the sofa with a smirk.

"Now where were we?"

this took me 2 hours to format on the site T_T i am exhausted. please give it some love! i would love to know what you thought of this story! please like and reblog! thank you! tagging @yoongsgguktae​ @sugamonster22​ @anglofmrcy​ @blue1928​ @jinpanman​ @thatlongspringnight​ @thatmultifandomhoe​