#though i wonder if they’ll do dragon dances next year for the year of the dragon… hmmmm… only one way to find out ig~~~~~ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jjkpls · 4 years

Text

set your world alight (m)

genre : fluff, smut, tiny lil bit of angst

pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

word count : 24k (eye-)

warnings/content : mentions of bruises, mature language, long haired jaykay, awkwardness & cutesy overload, clumsy frustrating idiot(s), bratty reader, explicit sexual content (fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex), HARRYPOTTER!AU (i cant believe i forgot to precise that in the teasers), jeon as charlie weasley, pretty much.

Jeon Jungkook is a mystery. Master of dragons. Long dark locks hiding a face most have never seen. Skin covered in scars. A brave, unpenetrable, curious being that you don’t know much about for, the very few times you’ve seen him in your life, you didn’t dare talk to him. Of course, you’d have the fatest crush on him.

“If we add roses instead of eucalyptus, wouldn't it turn into a love potion?”

You could have predicted it. If you were to have spent your evening scribbling the course that this morning, with the introducing of a new potion to your year 6 class, would take, solely based on intuition and experience, you would have gotten it right. Down to who's asking the question.

“No, it won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

Are you? After having spent your whole schooling career in Hogwarts, having studied the art of potion-making for five years filled with internships in the four corners of this Earth, in the greatest House of Potions there are, are you sure?

You could say all that. You could even tell to this annoying Gryffindor to shut the hell up because everyone, and you first, can’t stand to hear her voice anymore, interrupting constantly every lesson either with pointless questions or with obnoxious jabber.

But you don’t. Obviously, you don’t.

“For now, let’s just focus on learning what the actual recipe is. We’ll worry about interchanging ingredients later.”

Which is almost a lie. You won’t ever do that with them. You have your tight program, with a limited amount of recipes, that you’re supposed to go through with them. And creating new potions, or adapting already existing one to discover new effects are not on the plan. Not with Mrs Umbridge watching closely over every Hogwarts teachers' shoulders.

If they ever still find themselves obsessed with their dating life and enlarged pores once they'll be done with school, they will worry, on their very own, about creating the magic juices and ointments they need -given their lack of attention, investment and overall talent, you do sincerely hope they drop it because the results might lead to catastrophes but that's beside the point.

Miss Gryffindor sighs loudly. Turning slightly on her chair to roll her eyes to her friends, who snicker along, they’re whispering Merlin knows what about you and you’re just left there, trying to find your way back to the lesson without losing too much of your composure.

It doesn’t take you so much effort because unfortunately you are used to this. This class of Gryffindor is terrible. In your couple of years of teaching, you’ve never fallen upon a class filled with so many disinterested, awfully rude teenagers. Naively, when you just walked out of Hogwarts yourself almost ten years ago, when you were wondering with a certain dreadful desperation, what path to head for, you had finally chosen the teaching one, believing that by the time you’ll become a teacher, you’ll be old enough and teenagers would stop being scary by then, you might even grow a little fond of them, embodiment of a something long time gone, of nostalgia.

You were wrong. At twenty-six, you still feel like a barely done with teenagehood human, hardly an adult yet. The weapons you thought you’d gather along the way didn’t appear in your robe’s pockets as you thought they would.

Instead, you only have one, effective on an immediate use, but pretty useless on the long run: a monk’s patience.

You can ignore them. When they’re being so aggravating, you consider sometimes taking a hundred points away from their house -but you don’t because you’ll have to justify to the very biased Head of Gryffindor and fucking Umbridge-, you can ignore them. It’s the most effective way to react as it doesn’t feed them much, they just get annoyed with your unresponsiveness and decide to contain their disruption between themselves. The thing is, the steam has to blow some way, somehow. It’s fine when you can wake up early and spend an hour or so meditating, to gather all of your monk's potential, or if you ever have a Draught of Peace laying around, that can help too.

These days, it’s just harder to meditate, to try and keep your mind light, unbothered and calmly content.

So much harder that by the end of the class, only fifteen minutes left, you snap and end up taking off ten points from Gryffindors.

There’s a lot of whining, of strident eruptions of indignation, however, you’re smart enough to do it the moment you’re dismissing your class and they have to leave, sulking and hating you with a passion, for their next lesson.

“What have you done?” It’s Taehyung asking. He has a little alarmed look shading his abnormally handsome face, but a tiny little tremble of the corner of his mouth gives him away.

“Ten points.” You state with a bored raised of your eyebrows. What a bunch of babies.

“You suck. They’re going to hate me too, now.”

Which is not true. Immature profiles like them would tend to hate a teacher simply by association -it is to say that Taehyung is well known to be always stuck to your shoes, you grew up together anyway- but they would never Taehyung. He’s too handsome, has a voice way too sultry, too much charisma for anyone to hate him, especially his students. They can't stand his lessons though. He’s the worst option for a History of Magic teacher. He is passionate about his studies, really really passionate. Therefore his classes, in summarise, turn into him ranting non-stop, jumping from the main point to tiny insignificant streams made of pointless anecdotes that leave his students lost and confused, holes in their parchments, hands burning from their poor attempt at trying to take notes. His classes are Hell, made of boredom and confounding. The only upside being that he’s very nice to look at. He’s like an ancient mage stuck inside an elf body.

“Do you know how many times this year I’ve had to tell them that ‘no, this potion that has nothing to do with a love potion can’t be turned into one’? Why do I have to deal with their hormones all the time, seriously?”

“You mean, on top of yours?” It freezes you on the spot You could have heard that coming, with the big old ton-heavy boots. You don’t bother looking up from your papers you are reorganising. It’s pointless because you already know what you’d see. The smart ass’s shit-eating grin, singularly square at the edges, with the mischievous squinted eyes and subjective dance of the eyebrows.

“Shut up.”

“I can’t. I know you love talking about him since you don’t talk to him.”

The shame is burning the back of your neck. It’s climbing up your cheeks, taking over your ears in the process. If there’s one person who does wonders at not-making-you-feel-like-an-adult, it’s Kim Taehyung. Because of course he saw you grow up, and of course, he’s noticed that the timid, coward of a little Ravenclaw you used to be, hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re so mean.”

“Am not too.” He giggles as he leaps from the front table he had been sitting on to your desk, where he takes a seat, not caring about your quill holder that he knocks down. “You’re never going to try?”

“I don’t know, Tae.”

“He doesn’t look mean. A bit gruff but I guess that’s what living like a wild creature surrounded by the wildest creatures makes you look like.”

You hum non-committally. You have come to the same conclusion already. But you hate the idea that you could be right because it gives you one less reason to not dare approach him. “He must be nice.”

“He must?” You cackle a bit. He doesn’t even sound so sure of this statement. Taehyung smiles along, shrugging with a tilt of his head.

“Well, I don’t know. But you have to talk to him. Soon he’ll be portkeying back to his Transylvania-“

“Romania.”

“-you won’t see him ever again. And also, seriously, it’s been like, what, three months since he’s back?”

“Actually, it’s been barely a month.” The idiot is pretending, with a grandiloquent theatrical performance, that he doesn’t believe you, that somehow you’re trying to deceive him. And it’s ridiculous because no matter how dramatic he always aims to be, no matter how long indeed this whole pinning over the pretty guy without having the courage to act on your feelings has been lasting, it still has not been three months. It’s been three weeks and four days, not that you're counting.

He arrived on a rainy Friday morning, you remember it well because the wet weather agitated the frogs an awful lot and you ended up spending your ten minutes of break between two classes, on all fours, crawling along the hallways of Hogwarts to try and retrieve three escapees.

A real joy.

Especially when he appeared at the end of the hallway. Soaked to the bones but not seemingly caring, as opposed to Mr Filch who seemed even angrier than he usually does. You barely recognised him, from so far, looking up from the ground, with the hood of his heavy coat low above his eyes, nothing peculiar in his appearance that would give him away, not a word uttered that could have helped. Until he turned the corner of the hallway, and the emblem of this foreign school of wizardry appeared. With the purple embroidery contouring the white seagull, it just clicked. You remembered the rumours spreading wildly, excitedly around the castle, that despite the very vindicative Mrs Umbridge's opinion, dragons would be introduced this year to the course of Care for the Magical Creatures and real dragons, seen by their master, would be flying to you and inhabit the grounds of Hogwarts for this semester.

And of course, it would be him. With his impressive resume, or that unauthorised biography written about him by that one stingy journalist singing his lauds that you could read anywhere -there was even a version, presented as fiction, that’s been published in the muggle world- and also, his first and last visit to Hogwarts, two years ago, for the Triwizard Tournament when he proved his talent and bravery in front of all by forcefully regaining control over a Horntail that was just about to chew a few students’ heads off after having eluded his chains -and conveniently, it's also the same time when you fell head over heels for the stranger.

It was ridiculous because you never talked to the guy. But two years later, just his silhouette and the bouncing of his heavy head of curls you have to come to the shameful acknowledgement that your heart hasn’t gotten over the crush.

It’s ridiculous.

It precisely why you shouldn’t have talked about it to anyone. It’s just too hard to keep anything from Kim Taehyung though. Even if your life would have been so much easier if you’d only have to listen to your own nagging about this and not his.

“You’re going to end up as a crazy old spinster if you keep acting like that.”

“And you’re going to be late for your class if you keep on bothering me.”

“I don’t have a class.” Taehyung stares, dubiously. Now that you don’t have to face head-on your shame, attention slightly steered away from your useless self, you can stare back, glare even, as you challenge him with a raised eyebrow.

“You do.”

You relish in the sickly white suddenly brushing all over his face. He curses under his breath, grabbing his briefcase with one of his gigantic hands, before he’s flying out of your classroom.

Quite frankly, you’re not sure if he does have a class at the moment. You do know for a fact that he doesn’t know either because strangely enough, for a teacher whose whole subject depends on memory and a good one at that, he’s never been able to memorise his planning.

An easy escape you’ve come up with.

Everyone needs those.

Especially whoever’s having their ears talked off by the crazy old howl, Umbridge, down the corridor. You can hear her from your room, even with the door almost shut close. Her whole monologue is hard to decipher. You do hear that it has something to do with “her disapproval” and someone else's “irresponsibility” and “pure lunacy”.

By curiosity, you lean your head through the thin entrance your door is offering, picking discreetly to see who the victim is.

It's the guy. Jeon Jungkook. Standing with his feet pointing away from Umbridge, hands tucked deep in the pockets of a thick winter vest, you can’t see half of his face because of his hair, as always sitting low down his forehead, but you can tell from the thin line of his mouth, his tensed shoulders and something else, maybe his aura, so loudly screeching annoyance, that he's not having a good time.

It’s him. And for some reason, for the first time ever, you recall words Taehyung has said to you, loud and clear and pressing and inspiring. You don’t want to become a “crazy old spinster”. Therefore you decide to become a crazy something else you don’t bother to identify right this second.

“Oh, Mrs Umbridge!”

“Miss ___, as you can see, I am already-“

“Oh!” The loud gasp, hand clasping on your gaping mouth, wide eyes completing the look. You can’t find the courage to turn to him to reinforce -in case it wasn’t clear enough- that you just, now that she mentioned it, realise the man was here.

Mrs Umbridge has this quality to her. You find her so awfully ridiculous that you turn yourself in a clown, subtly mocking her -though you don’t think she fathoms it since you’ve always acted this way around her- each time you share any kind of conversation.

It can work and you can go along with your usual antics only if you forget the obnoxiously troubling presence of the dragon master.

“I am so deeply embarrassed, I didn’t realise. I’m not wearing my glasses, I’m an incorrigible mole without them.”

“Is that so?” From above the frame of her pink glasses, her beady eyes scrutinize. “You should wear them on your nose then, Miss ___. Now, if you will-“

“I’m sorry, I needed- It’s very important.” You cut her off with such speed and enthusiasm, you know she can't shut you off. “After discussing with my students about the program, I thought about something. Maybe I could introduce a new-“ “Miss ___!” She screeches, the triggering words -”introduce” and “new”- having hit perfectly right. “The program, as you owe to know, has been carefully crafted by the great Minister for Magic and doesn’t need for an airheaded little teacher like you to add any changes to it.”

“Oh yes, of course, how could I forget?”

“It is bad enough as it is that this foolish Hagrid has been able to convince my confreres of bringing a useless study on the most dangerous creatures there is-“ She pointedly glare from the corner of her eyes to the man who remains silent and immobile. His hands haven’t moved from the depth of his pockets, you can’t see his eyes even up close, because the curtain of dark curls hiding them is even thicker than it looked like from the other end of the hallway. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered. You wonder if he’s even listening. Barely swinging on his long legs, waiting for his presence to be dismissed it seems.

“Dragons are quite interesting creatures. I suppose that’s why they were added to the program. The Ministry for Magic must have thought so too since they voted...”

She gnarls at that. She tries to be discreet, conceals a bit of her spite but there’s no doubt in your mind that her mouth's just filled up with a distasteful repellent aftertaste.

Since the main goal was to distract her from him and free him from her claws, you start again with the suggestions for a revised scholar program. Her cheeks grow pinker than her jacket, her eyes start reflecting a fire alike the ones from Hell, her usually perfectly well-combed hair releases a few angry frizzes. She’s beyond herself and without letting you finish your little act, she’s going over all the things that are so wrong about you, about Hogwarts teachers in general, about young people and their disrespectful tendency to want to add their little spice to every tea.

You take the nagging like a champ. Because you’re used to it and to be perfectly fair, you’ve mastered a certain state of meditation whenever she’s coming your way with some complaining.

None of her words successfully reach you to stick around.

She holds strong for a good, fat fifteen minutes. At some point, you even worry that this time, her pit of nonsensical arguments won’t ever show a bottom. Until it does.

She looks all dishevelled from her heated argument. The hair worsened, with now drops of perspiration shining on her forehead. The mean beady eyes are dull, exhausted from the fight as she contemplates the void between you and the man. With a last dismissive wave of her hand, she leaves, stumbling on top of her lacquered Fuschia heels.

How can someone work themselves up so badly with so little provocation -and no further response too?

It leaves you alone with the dragon master and only now, even though you had plenty of time to take in this present, you realise how inconvenient for your coward self the predicament is. You are meant to talk to him now, aren’t you? Maybe the same question raises in his mind however he certainly doesn’t reach the same conclusion. Deeming it unnecessary, he turns his back to you and heads down the hall without much of a look spared to you. Maybe he did check, through or maybe under the impenetrable curtain of hair, for the identity of the idiot that thought he needed help to escape the annoying old owl but you wouldn’t know.

Watching in pure despair, your heart prickling uncomfortably in your bosom, you wonder if you somehow upset him. He did look irked from what you could tell. Anyone else, anyone less grumpy, anyone feeling anything but discomfort or discontent would have said something, wouldn��t they?

That’s what you explain to Kim Taehyung. Emphasising on the fact that you did try to approach the guy. You did. You created the situation, you faced him fully, you did miss the moment when you were probably supposed to say something to him but he left, too soon, and clearly is not interested in getting to know you, and whatever, you’re fine with that you just want your friend to note and remember for later reference that you did try this time.

Taehyung who’s never keen on trusting your words, no matter the fact that you’ve never lied to him -or maybe just a few times so he would leave you alone, but nothing major really- decides that you are wrong. That somehow you misinterpreted the whole thing and surely you need to hop back on the horse and try, again, maybe this time more vindictively.

It takes quite a couple of days for him to convince you. You’re not sure how. It might be from exhaustion, it might come from those three too many butterbeers you drank even though you didn’t remember ordering, back when you were gloomily celebrating your never-ending celibacy in Jjang Jjang -the magical bar held by your friend, Min Yoongi, in the far end of Hogsmead.

You promise that if an opportunity appears to be showing the very tip of its nose, if the universe is kind -and delusional- enough to gift you another chance, then you would try.

It’s funny how the laws of attraction work. Or rather, probably more accurately, it’s funny how Taehyung can be so shameless and volunteer when he has his mind set on something. He has no problem manipulating people and situations as if the universe is his and he decides whatever happens to the little pawns inhabiting it.

A week later, when he, the dragon master, is the curious apparition manifesting itself in front of you when you open the door to let your class free, it doesn’t fall into place right away.

It’s a strange coincidence. Maybe he messed up and meant to find another classroom, any other classroom but yours. He doesn’t budge when he sees you, doesn’t seem startled by your presence. He only takes a step to the side once he realises that a wave of hurried teenagers is about to swarm him in their way out.

“Miss, are we still going to study this potion next time or will we move to something more interesting?” It’s that same Gryffindor. The same as usual. She’s just made of attitudes, eye rolls, hand on the hip and all.

“Once you’ll be able to make it without cooking a hole in your cauldron, we’ll be starting with a new one.”

You’re snarkier than usual, there’s no denying that. It’s your fifth class of the day, everyone seems to have signed an agreement on messing with your patience and he’s here, hearing and seeing an umpteenth attempt to humiliate you from this kid and you’re not having it right now, not today. She grows red on the cheeks, eyebrows frowning dangerously low, they might fall from her face when she barks, “I told you the hole was already there!”

“I understand. Next time, I’ll lend you my old cauldron so there won’t be any issue, alright?”

The angry wands she owns for eyes shoot you a good dozen of curses and she departs, with her friends, as angry as ever.

There’s a heavy silence, setting around you both, engulfing you. The wood of the walls, dark and cold, make it old the more uncomfortable until you can not take it anymore. You’re about to mumble something, maybe point out the end of the hall and suggest he tries there, to find whatever or whoever he is looking for. He beats you to it. Having reached the very limit of handling this silence at the same time as you do.

“Good morning.” He starts, clearing his throat. A husky, quiet yet somehow soft voice that he doesn’t seem to have used quite often. “Here’s the stuff for your potions.”

He holds out a strong hand to you, all veiny and sparkled with tiny bruises, a dark bag made of linen held in his fist. If he can see you, he can undoubtedly take in your confusion. You have no idea what “the stuff” is. If it’s a badly expressed thought. If he meant to say, “some stuff” for your potions. Because you’ve never asked for anything from anyone for your potions -even though, the thought crossed your mind that he, with his magical pets, must have some fantastic ingredients for your searches. You don’t know if it just comes from him. If he thought you may need it and generously prepared this for you -you doubt that one highly. The other reason, way more evident, quite obnoxiously obvious actually, that doesn’t reach your brain which is only working at a quarter of its habitual capacity given his standing here, and his smelling like woods and smoky and something subtler, you can’t pinpoint but feel addicted to as soon as it reaches your nostrils, is that someone -Taehyung- must have put him up for it. He must have gone behind your back, mumble some basic potion ingredients knowledge he owns to him and asked him to bring it to you.

“I put my Norvegian Ridgeback's scales in a separate bag because they’re very sharp -and poisonous too- so be careful when you open it.” He’s done talking, he clears his throat again, this time you’re pretty sure it’s out of discomfort as your gaping silently like a dumb fish must not be the easiest response to receive. A little inviting shake of his fist brings you to your senses, and you reach forward to grab the present. Your arm drops down from the surprising weight of the thing, fortunately, as if he expected it, he catches you before you topple over, a hand on your shoulder and the other encasing yours holding the bag, squeezing around your own as he lifts some of the weight up.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be this heavy.” because you carried it like it was filled with dragons feathers instead -you mean to add.

“It’s fine.” He simply mumbles. You add your free hand to cup the underside of the thing, pressing the whole to your bosom and he lets go there, letting you step inside your room to find a place on a shelf to put it away. You probably take a second to long, your back facing him, as you stand staring at your new possession. It’s the heat remaining on the back of your hand that troubles you. As if not only have his pets decorated the top of his skin with scratches and bruises, they’ve sighed enough fire in his palms for them to forever feel this warm. And he touched you so naturally so. Pressing his large hand around yours that seemed so tiny in comparison. Probably without even acknowledging it while you are shook to your core.

This added to your confusion born from his surprise apparition, are the reasons why, as I said, your brain doesn’t reach its full capacity. Still, the idea that Taehyung is behind it all, that it can’t solely come from this man here, just won’t do in your idiotic head.

You’re enamoured, even more than before, just by a touch and by the gentleness his words hold under the tougher surface. And you decide, that if you turn around and he’s still standing there you’ll ask him out.

You do so, spiralling in slow motion, filled with apprehension. He’s here. His hands back inside the pockets of his jacket, the shadow of a sparkle coming from his eyes, under the heavy protection he’s wearing in front of them.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He’s startled at the call of his name, the top of his mop of hair bouncing slightly and you just find it adorable. Maybe he didn’t expect you to know his name, he must not even know yours. Of course, he could not have expected that you had spent way too long, two years ago, back when he came to Hogwarts for the first time and you had heard his name amid a conversation, trying it out for yourself. Not to wear it out but repeating his name to yourself, appreciating the way the syllabus formed, how they felt so well chosen for each other’s, for him, and the feeling, light heading, that it gave you to pronounce it.

“Would you like to have a drink with me? On Fridays, I like to go to my friend's bar in Hogsmead and I was wondering, maybe you’d like to come?”

More clearing of the throat. It’s stalling the delivery of his answer, you hate it and almost jump to your cooking station to sort out a quick remedy for it. Your heart is beating so furiously, you might pass out and he’s just taking his sweet time to answer. You feel the awkwardness. You don’t see it. You can’t see anything, the bottom of his face not telling any secrets on his feelings. You must look terrifying, red anywhere it’s possible for you to blush, sweating and fidgety like you’re on a Girding Potion bad trip. And he doesn’t show anything. You’d rip the hair out of his eyes if only you could.

There’s only one telling sign that manifests in the form of his hand, slipping out of his pocket to reach for the back of his neck where it scratches for a bit.

It’s no. It must be a “no, I’m absolutely not interested and this moment is very awkward”.

“I have my dragons to exercise. Sorry.”

“Oh. It’s ok.” It is not.

You hope, with all your might, that he doesn’t notice how upset you are. Through your prickling eyes, through the trembling pout you try to hide behind a casual smile.

It is terribly not ok but fortunately, he doesn’t stick around. That’s probably the thing you’re the most thankful for at this moment, his laconic tendencies. Anyone else may have tried to say something else to make you feel better, to make you feel like the rejection isn't worth throwing you off one of Hogwarts high tour. Instead, he just quits, swiftly. Leaving you alone to compose yourself back enough to handle your very last class of the day. You manage to feel fine, sort of numbed out for long enough until you don’t have to pretend anymore and you can let all the emotions out.

Bent over on the wooden tabletop of Yoongi’s bar, you’re crying out your whole soul, face laid in a pool of your own tears, a gentle hand petting awkwardly the top of your head.

“I hate you Taehyung!” It hardly comes out, half mumbled, half coughed out. The hand on your hair still in the air for a second so he must have got the jest of it until it resumes to its previous activity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d reject you.” He sighs deeply. “I didn’t even think you’d ask him out!”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” You rise from the depth of your despair, hidden in the centre of your crossed arms. Yoongi looks extremely distraught. Your face looks awful, you know. But seeing him this shaken upsets you even more. You feel mad and vengeful and you’d like to flood his shitty bar with your tears to teach him a lesson -you’re not sure which, maybe: don’t look so disgusted when your friends look indeed disgusting, that’s mean- but the realisation downs on you that you cried so much you don’t have any tears left. Just the rashness around your eyes and nose, no snot left because Yoongi had maternally cleaned it for you, tiny pathetic sniffling around nothing but heartbreak now.

“He sent him to me!” You bark, punching Taehyung in the shoulder, not caring the least that half of his drink gets spilt everywhere.

“You didn’t have to just ask him out! You could have just, I don’t know (he pretends to think deeply, the tip of his fingers tapping lightly his chin), talk to him! Like a normal person that’s never spoken to him would have done.”

You gasp, eyes burning with fire. “Yoongi, he called me a freak!”

“When have I ever-“

“Normal people, my ass!” You continue, sort of having a lone conversation parallel to theirs. “What do you know about normal people, you fucking Grindylow.” You swallow down your fourth butterbeer, one furious finger indicating Yoongi that you need another one. Taehyung is just rolling his eyes, not taking offence of the nonsensical insult. “I hate you so much, Merlin, how am I supposed to face him again?”

“You do like everyone else’s does. Just start hating him until you don’t care anymore.”

“People do that?” Yoongi asks curiously. He’s slid you a new pint, filled to the brim.

“I know I do.” You slap the back of his arm there, without giving him any explanation, just because you’re sure he’s bullshitting you -the guy surely never has been rejected.

“Doesn’t matter. How could I ever hate him anyway?” A lone survivor tear falls from your lashes into the calm, quiet amber lake topping your glass. It doesn’t hit you there that there’s no foam. Yoongi watches you carefully, one of his hand is patting your forearm.

“Is he really that great?” Taehyung just shrugs. He’s such a dimwit. You nod, heart growing big with sadness before it breathes it out, turning into a tiny, squeezed on itself pained creature. You leave the conversation then. Simply trying to rest with your hurting bosom. It needs nurturing and a benevolent yet firm healing hand to tell it to rest for a bit, and stop overreacting.

[“What's he like?” Yoongi asks directly to Taehyung as he can see, clearly, that you’re not here anymore, for now.

“He’s... uh...” Taehyung starts with very flimsy conviction. “He’s into dragons.” More shrugging.]

Honestly, you might be exaggerating. You do not know much about him. Most of what you believe to know, assumed by what little you do know about him. You believe he is nice and sensible, from the way he treats his animals and the way they treat him.

[“Oh. Holy Dumbledore!”

“Stop saying that! I told you it’s fucking disrespectful.”]

You’ve seen how much respect and trust lay between them. It’s blatant. And to create this kind of relationship with some of the fiercest creatures in the magical world, he must be something else, something exceptional.

[“It’s him. It’s fucking him!”]

And you read about him, a lot, the two books he wrote solely about his creatures. They don’t directly tell much about him but indirectly, they hint his humility and humbleness. It’s not like that stupid Gilderoy Lockhart and his autobiographies on magical creatures. And there are the numerous articles that were written about him and his exploits and alleged character.

[“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

Sharp short nails are jabbing annoyingly in the skin of your forearm. It’s Taehyung, of course, he never stops bugging you. It’s his second passion after the soporific subject he’s decided to teach. You close your eyes, frowning a bit because he won’t stop, trying to annihilate him from your existence, to annihilate yourself from it too.]

Simple, humble, smart and strong. Passionate, sensible and a beautiful set of thick dark locks you want to slip your fingers through as the cherry on top.

“It’s apple juice!” You screech in disgust, pushing your fake butterbeer far away from you. The hocus-pocus, if it irritates you, at least brings you back to earth, and back to the noisy bar. Min Yoongi mouths something about you having drunk enough but his attention is elsewhere, along with Taehyung's.

“Oh, Merlin's beard.”

Of course, he would be there. He’s been back to Hogwarts for over a month now, you’ve never seen him around here, but of course, the day he rejects you, he has to come to your retreat, and witness the mess he's made of you. What kind of sick joke from the stars is that?

“Holy shit. Isn’t he a bit much for you?”

You know exactly what the barman means. It makes you blush slightly under the tipsy flushing already adorning your cheeks.

If Jeon Jungkook may or may not be made of all the qualities you’ve named for him -with or without reasons-, he has some very visible, very obnoxious other qualities to him. Qualities that you’re not proud of pining over because it makes you feel shallow and superficial. The expression on Yoongi's face makes it feel better though. Justified. As if, well, here they are, you can’t deny it. And since you like his imaginary personality, you might as well like the body imaginarily hosting it.

Jeon Jungkook is tall as a tree and as strong as one. It’s hard to tell, from here, with the layers of clothes he’s wearing on his back to protect himself from the cold, to what extent he fills them but it’s obvious he’s broad, wide. He walks with strong determined steps, with his fists tight to his sides, as tight as his jaw, square, sharp.

He’s big. Both in appearance and aura and you can understand how Yoongi wonders if he’s not “a bit much” for you.

“Don’t call him over!” You whisper-yell, digging your nails in the tender skin of Taehyung’s forearm. He whines, curses and tries to let himself free while telling you that of course, he’s not that dumb, he won’t. He doesn’t need to, anyway, because the guy, after seemingly exploring with his gaze the bar, sets his aim on your table, slowly starting to make his way towards you.

“He’s coming.” Taehyung mumbles, bewildered.

You are too. Could it be you misunderstood earlier when he said he couldn’t come because he’d be “exercising his dragons”? It can’t possibly be true. You don’t even know what the heck is up with this excuse. Because it can’t have been anything more than an excuse. Since when do dragons need to be exercised and by a wizard at that?

And now he is here.

Literally, he’s standing right in front of your table, a hand reaching for the back of the empty chair, next to yours, but stops mid-track and backs away to his side.

“Hi. Do you mind if I sit here ?”

You can feel, physically, the two heavy heads of your friends, turning slowly on their necks towards you, like an idiotic audience, not wanting to miss one beat of the drama playing for them.

There’s a little snappy answer that rises to the back of your throat. Something inspired by what Taehyung said earlier, about hating him. You almost tell him aloud that he can do whatever he wants, that you don’t own this fucking chair.

Jeon Jungkook is still raspy but soft voice. With his bruised hand with the fingers red from the cold, not assertive and confident enough to dare grab the chair yet and you can’t do much but nod your head, swiftly sliding your own chair to the side to draw a little distance between you.

It takes forever for the initial tension to drop a little bit. You can’t say anything, Taehyung the chatterbox can’t either, Jungkook probably feels too awkward by your behaviours to find a casual way to start the conversation. It’s Yoongi who realises the successful start. By doing what he does best, serving your new guest the best butterbeer there is in Hogsmead (Yoongi would say that it’s the best in the world, both magical and muggle, but given he hasn’t stepped two feet outside of this village for the past two decades, you wouldn’t give him that).

“My name’s Jungkook, by the way.” He starts quietly, in the direction of Yoongi. The latter nods and smiles a bit too eagerly. He tries to be natural, you can tell. And fail miserably, you must add.

“I’m Min Yoongi. Welcome to Jjang Jjang!” Taehyung cringes visibly. Yoongi leans further, towards yours and Jungkooks side of the table, wanting to ignore at best the unhelpful clown beside him. “You must already know...” With a vague hand gesture, he points Taehyung and you. It makes you want to die, the idea that he knows your name, he knows you. You’re unsure what’s going on. Why he’s here, where this will lead. But it would all feel infinitely better if you knew that somehow, he didn’t know anything about you. It’s hard to remember people without their name. It’s the first thing you learn about someone, really, like a tag they’re wearing on their foreheads and when recalling about them, ever, consciously or not, the name comes always. He knows yours so he won't forget you.

It takes all of you a short eternity to warm up to each other. The bar is still noisy, with its occasional rough burst of laughter from the tough-looking wizards, maybe missionaries, the high giggles of a group of Hogwarts 7th year students hidden in a corner. You’re all nurturing your drinks, even you with your stupid apple juice and the unease is even louder, the silence deafening in the middle of the concert of voices and shatters of glasses.

Until Taehyung says something weird, “So you like dragons, uh?” You don't understand why he persists on making it sound weird, like he's romantically interested in them.

You hit him under the table, a good kick to the kneecap but it’s clear to everyone that his yelp comes from you. That makes Jungkook laughs.

He pretty much giggles, sounding like a boy, head tilted down forward with his locks sadly hiding his smile.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He finally answers, clearing his throat, words coming out sweet and sheepish-like, as if he’s embarrassed from having been caught laughing.

“Oh, that explains this.” Yoongi says, pointing at his skin and the numerous bruises orning it. You’ve never hit Min Yoongi because 1) he’s older than you, 2) he’s a tiny little thing that you’re scared to hurt but you are this close, the width of a hair away, from throwing your foot up again and hit him in the junk. For a second, Jungkook seems awkward. Staring himself at his hands, one sliding over the other, the tip of his thumb grazing with insistence on a deep scar. Until he raises his head again, you assume to let his eyes go over your faces, studying them silently and something he sees there, maybe innocent benevolence -even if Yoongi's comment was lowkey inappropriate, he didn’t mean any ill- and something else, childish excitement probably suffice to relax him. Letting his hands be, one wrap around his pint, the other flat on the tabletop, tip of his fingers drumming quietly every now and then, out in the open for anyone who'd like to to see.

“They tend to be a bit playful.” He says this with a sly smile raising the corner of his mouth. Something ridiculously sexy that makes you choke on your fake beer and back away from him even more. You shouldn’t raise an arm to plant your elbow into the table, as a sort of shield between you two, because it’s rude and lame, but you do it anyway. Because it’s all a lot.

He's a lot.

Yoongi, probably, knows you better than you could ever imagine. Seeing right through you, added to the statement he raised earlier -and maybe he was right, maybe he's a whole lot, and a whole lot too much for you-, he reconsiders forbidding you from consuming any more alcohol. Kindly, he manifests a glass of sparkling juice, right in front of you. It's a light peach colour, from the first sniff of the aroma, you can tell it won't knock you unconscious any time soon. It's more sugar than alcohol but at least, it succeeds to soothe the harsh edges of your nerves. Because your nerves are on the verge of a fucking spontaneous combustion.

"Hey! Why does she get another one?" Since earlier, Taehyung, too, has been switched to a strictly non-alcoholic beverages diet. He's not happy about it but you understand easily Yoongi's train of thought. You need to relax so you deserve a little something -especially given the fact that Jeon Jungkook's appearance had you almost entirely sobered up-, while Taehyung's stupid mouth is way too loose and needs to be fed something soft and safe.

"Because he likes me and he hates you." You mutter, not daring to look up from your glass by fear of coming across your neighbour's attention. Your comment is well received though. You allow yourself to joke like that because everyone, Taehyung included, knows that Kim Taehyung is everyone's favourite. No matter the competition. No one can hate him, even when he's boring as hell, even when he's too loud, too nosy, dumb or annoying. He knows it as well as you do and each time you throw one of these snarky taunts, a glint of amusement sparkles his almond eyes and he loves to act all hurt and offended.

He turns all gasps and bombastic hand movements, claiming unfairness, misery. You start nagging back at him, adding more about how dumb he sounds and stupid he looks, while he counteracts with more dramatic appalled cries, as Yoongi just shrinks onto himself, shaking his head in disconcertment -even though, he's too used to your antics to be any surprised nor confused.

You're so caught up in your childish bickerings that slowly, only you two, and the amusement you're trying to contain in your stomach, matter and exist. Jeon Jungkook disappearing entirely. It has your voice turn louder, mimicking Taehyung's, your insults getting bolder, your face raises as you squint your eyes menacingly at your friend.

It's once Taehyung grabs the wand from his pocket and aims it at you, threatening to turn you into a pile of ghoul's shit if you won't shut up, that he's reminded to you.

The giggles, like earlier. Boyish and rusty, uncommon, that can only be his, ring and bless your right ear. It has you shut up instantly. Startled, you stare at him, only for a soft smile to grow on your lips, fond as you are to see him laugh like that, because of you.

You must look stupid as your eyes jump to Taehyung, silently begging him to acknowledge the wonder taking place just next to you, too giddy, too excited, too blushy to be part of it. He just grins back at you, nods his head even though you're not exactly sure at what, one of his elbows poking Yoongi's side.

"How long have you two been friends ?" He asks once he's managed to calm down his fit with a bite on his lower lip. Your heart is running a marathon and you're not sure for how long it'll keep holding up, you might need to focus all of your energy on the course, on not breaking a leg or pass out in the middle of the run, but you refuse, because he's talked to you again, because your best friends are accessorily here to help out, ease a bit of the burden of having to face the terrifying idea of being rejected (again), of failing at being good enough, somehow, to a guy you don't know much but like a lot.

Therefore you answer, aiming a joking dark glare at Taehyung because it helps to look at him, "Too long." Jungkook sniggers at the answer as Taehyung slips his ugly tongue out to you.

Somehow the tension diffuses itself. As if now that all of you had placed a word in the conversation, played somehow a role in it, it feels better, the ice has been melted and you can all, finally, relax.

Without even realising, your elbow slips from the tabletop, you're still wary, still very much aware of him sitting so close to you but you're fine with it.

As the drinks, more or less loaded, flow, Jungkook's cheeks fill up with mountains upon mountains of the fried wonders Jjang Jjang's beloved house-elf, Seokjin, has to offer, the discussion runs smoothly, tongues untied and excited.

It starts with Taehyung telling a very inaccurate version of your first meeting and blooming of this decades-old friendship (you add now and then, when the exaggerations and blatant lies get too much, little modifications to the tale that have Jungkook snigger and nod his head discreetly to you in secret confidence). It continues with Jungkook, pressured by a very adamant audience (which you are not part of, even if you are probably the most interested in the topic, in any topic that would have him speak a bit more, you don't want to bother him with your curiosity which Taehyung and Yoongi do not seem the least disturbed about) telling about the couple of last years he'd spent all around the world, in the most secluded corners of Earth, where only dangerous creatures like his beloved pets live and where only the foolhardiest or most suicidal wizards dare to adventure. As you expected, he's quite humble about it. He doesn't insist on details that make your heads spin in bewilderment, shrugging his shoulders lightly when you're the one whisper-yelling that "but you could've died?!". After a lot of cooing, from all angles of the table, tiny whispers repeating some of his words like a strange echo as you all try to handle the admiration -and intoxication-, he starts feeling himself, a tiny, discreet but visible smile, slyly redrawing the corner of his mouth. He shrugs a little less, nods his head firmly a little more, voice louder and more confident, shaping in the full form it's able to take.

He sounds lovely when he doesn't care anymore. When he feels unrestrained, comfortable and easy-going. He laughs a lot, you notice. It colours almost every single one of yours and your friends' comments, and maybe the fact that you're all a bit dumbed by shock and interest and starstruck and tipsiness makes it so that they're pretty ridiculous, hence him laughing so much. It's not so much that you're all hilarious, rather than you all being pretty stupid but it doesn't matter. You note how easy his laughter, that you couldn't even picture before hearing it for yourself, can come out. How open he is to meddle with you.

He fits so well in your bubble. This personal place only Taehyung and Yoongi have ever been authorized to inhabit. He matches perfectly. It fills your heart and mind with so much content, you feel your cheeks hurt from smiling constantly without meaning too. It's what he does, you suppose, making you smile. And when you notice the pink tint colouring his cheeks, rounded out lovingly so by a grin, you assume he's feeling the same, enjoying his time with all of you, your heart dips in the warmest bath.

"Dude!" For the umpteenth time, he's trying to wave himself some air with a hand. Taehyung has had enough and just slammed his fist to the table, making everything on it knock against each other, Yoongi's eyes this close to falling out of their sockets. Jungkook just giggles some more, he might be a bit tipsy. "Just tie your hair up, you're making me sweat just looking at your mop!"

"I don't even have-" Taehyung's already up from his chair, he bumps his leg in the process but pay it no attention, marching over his future victim with a little hair-tie that seemed to appear from thin air -probably did too. Jungkook is so lenient with your best friend, too lenient you'd say, you wouldn't even have it in you. When he excitedly reaches forward, his long fingers parting the dark locks in two, he's trying to tie one end into a little side ponytail. Before he's even done with the first one, you roll your eyes, knowing what he's aiming for. Of course, he wouldn't just give him a regular manbun or something.

For the first time, you meet one of Jungkook's eyes, the one uncovered thanks to Taehyung's shenanigan. It's round, dark but warm like rich chocolate, sparkling with exhilaration but concerned.

"What's he doing?" He asks you, unbeknownst to the fact that meeting half of his face for the first time, the endearing pretty thing, stole every single little last word from you. With two fists hold to the side of your head, you attempt to show him the cute girly hairstyle Taehyung has in mind. He winces at that, nose scrunching into itself so high, the round thing turns into something adorable, shaking his head to try to free himself from your friend's prying hands, a grin still on his lips.

"Stop being such a baby!" Taehyung growls, trying for a little while to keep ongoing, his hand desperately holding onto the second bunch of hair. He's soon forced to stop as the victim turns to be too unwilling. "Ok fine! You do it then!"

It's you he is barking to. If the hair tie thrown straight in your eye is any teller. It renders you blind for a second. Until you can blink the stingy discomfort away and you’re greeted by Jungkook and his endearing face with the oh so adorable tiny tail hanging from the side of his head, observing you with great attention, single eye blinking worrisome. He looks cute, half dolled up like a girl, fearful and curious to discover how you’ll treat him. For a second, you are tempted to follow your friend's design. Because how cute would this man look with two ponytails hanging on top of his head, with maybe even tiny hair clips to perfect it all.

He’d be pissed though and wouldn’t keep it probably so what’s the point.

The real point is that you have a hair tie in your hand, fingers itching on instinct to play with the shiny raven locks and the owner of said pretty locks, silently permitting you to do just that.

Maybe Taehyung is not as dumb and as useless as you thought him to be. Your prior reflex would be to assume he didn’t even mean to create this opportunity for you. He’s just invading as a person, touchy-feely and very comfortable with anyone entering his vicinity. You do owe him more credits and you willingly give them to him for this time. Because if he didn’t intend to put your foot on the stirrup, he surely did anyway, with a natural and a smoothness you couldn’t imagine coming from him.

Standing behind Jungkook's chair, hands hovering centimetres away, you feel so blessed, you’d jump over to Taehyung's side to snug him to your fervent heart if you didn’t have better at hand -and if the idea of actually having him this close to you did not fill you with an immense cringe.

Taehyung is watching, over the rim of his glass, with an obnoxious, kid like excited sparks burning you uncomfortably. You curse him out, soundlessly but with such great articulation, he can’t possibly miss the words.

Yoongi who watches all of it notices and understands it all as he always does even when he pretends he doesn’t, starts talking then. Something about Brazil where Jungkook had spent nine months, living alone in the wild forest of Amazonia, and about the curious plants and fruits he heard that could be found there. It’s a nice distraction. Soon Jungkook is on it again, Taehyung partakes a role in it too, leaving you alone to handle the grandiose yet terrifying fantasy that is touching and messing with Jungkook's hair.

The first ponytail comes undone easily, the hair tie simply slipping off with just the tip of your fingers to guide it.

When you timidly start, reaching with two hands to grab all of the hair from him, you feel a rush of blood to your cheeks, heart skipping beats and perspiration bubbling at your temple. Your fingers just have to graze slightly the skin of his neck, all warm and soft, you have to do it a few times even because his pretty locks are rebellious and your fingers too willing to let them run in between them, silky as they are.

There’s a strand refusing your gentle taming, slipping from your grasp and falling in front of his eye. You go to catch it back, meeting hot fingers on his temples. Yours surrender immediately. Jungkook from the corner of his eye, over his shoulder, throw you a glance and a smile. A small one, small but fond.

"Doesn't it get lonely?" Yoongi asks as Jungkook tucks the strand behind his ear.

"Not really. I'm used to it." He shrugs. You take your sweet, sweet time to finish the half-bun, half-tail hairdo you're working on. Somehow something lovely has settled. Something comfortable, domestic. He's not wary of your touch, letting you mess with his hair, not even flinching when, tentatively, just taking a chance, just once, the pad of your thumb stroke the hot skin of his neck. "Dragons can be very affectionate-" That makes Taehyung cackles as Yoongi gasps in disbelief. You have a hard time picturing those creatures as affectionate. Jungkook is different anyway. You need to be different to go after the path he's chosen for himself. "I swear!" Taehyung rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"Have you considered all this time spent away from civilization turned you mad?"

The bun is done, sadly. You made it last for as long as you could but eventually, as every perfect moment, it has to come to an end. You don't even bother to hide your dread as you let your ass drop to your chair, puffing.

"Leave him alone, moron." A few peanuts to his stupid head and Taehyung stops messing with Jungkook, stops acting like he's insane and starts telling about something no one cares about -so much so, Yoongi leaves to go chat up an old goblin who's just entered the bar.

Jungkook turns to you, leaning a bit. Smiling quietly, gently. As if he doesn't realise the face he owns once his hair isn't hiding the majority of it anymore.

It must be a joke. He must know. He must have noticed how his straight, dark eyebrows, with the cut splitting the right one in half, gives an irresistible, dark, mature shape to the roundest, sparkliest set of eyes the world has ever seen. He must know his face is a wonderful work of art, with the tiny little details, here and there, adding charms and depth and uniqueness, that only the greatest, only a special artist would know to use -like this faint scar linking a mole under his lip to the corner of his mouth, or the one craving in the top of his cheek. His colours are splendid too. While you'd always seen him with black everything, black hair, black clothes, quiet sombre aura and a tiny bit of red, you'd catch sometimes, where he'd hurt his hands. Never would have you thought, he's more harlequin than monochromatic. Golden scopes, tipsy patches of red matching the tiny pout he owns for a mouth, eyes not dark but the richest shade of chocolate.

"You," Jungkook starts in a whisper, now so close you have a whiff of his smell, torturous scent of pinewood, of soot, and something else, more natural, sweat most definitely but turns out to be the better element of the mixture, suave, awfully addictive. "you believe me, don't you?" You need a full minute to get your brain's vessels to connect. A full minute during which you have no idea what the hell he's talking about, what words are and how to use them, and all you can focus on is not dying from a heart attack -and also, not show that you are having one.

You shake your head up and down, still unsure to what you're agreeing to. It does not matter that much because he's smiling the way he does. The adorable smile another wonderful novelty, shaped like a bunny one, eating up his upper lip into the thinnest cupid bow. The sparks in his eyes, on his cheeks, from excitement, mirth. He's really here with you, warmer than you've ever thought him able to be, and somehow, different than what you had expected, but thousand times more endearing. Having developed a crush on him previously makes more and more sense by the second.

"Thank you for the invitation." He says quietly. You don't miss a single word, nor the least flinch in his intonation (soothing, genuine), even in the loudness of the bar, because, for some reason, he's never leaned back. He remains there, hardly a dozen of centimetres away from you.

"No problem." You lie, effortlessly after a few gulps of liquid courage. If you're enchanted by the evening, the unexpected turns of events, he still made you go through a short misery for this. He must see your awkwardness, he must notice how you're sweating bullets and swallowing with difficulty. How your eyes keep battling between wanting to bath in his and avoid them at all cost. Jungkook doesn't budge though and it almost gets annoying, almost upset you how he doesn't care -or maybe simply doesn't realise- the effect he's having on you. "I thought you couldn't-" You start, meaning to sting him a bit because he deserves it.

"I finished early, and um-"

"Was it even real?" You ask, genuinely curious to have him clear this out for you. It's not like you're mad anymore. On your face, you only feel a tingle at the apple of your cheeks from how many smiles and waves of laughter you've shared, the desperate tears from earlier long dried and gone. "The excuse, I mean."

"It wasn't an excuse..." Jungkook turns his face away from you then. Biting hard on his bottom lip, a traitorous grin hardly contained. The tip of his ears are flushed, you wonder from what, until you see his hand raising to the top of his head where it flats down hair that doesn't need it. "I- I just-" Maybe it's seeing him this abashed that pushes you forward, literally, scraping your chair to the wooden floor, thigh meeting his in the process. "I was startled when you- asked. When you said my name even, I wasn't- like- expecting it and I'm not used to-" He cuts himself off, a hand vaguely motioning the room.

"To what?" You insist, mimicking his murmuring tone, terrified as you are to pop out the little bubble now only he and you dwell.

"Going out with people or just- hang out, I don't know." He looks inherently embarrassed now. Possibly even a bit saddened, you note. Still, his face remains open, kind, the ever-boyish smile teasing at least the corner of his lips. You don't mean to be so sappy but you wish, consciously, right this second, for this very moment to last an eternity or at least, for your memory to take a picture realistic enough, as in-depth and detailed as possible so that you'll be able to recall and relive it for years to come.

"Oh. Dragons don't like to go clubbing?" He bumps your thigh with his knee, chortling at your words but shaking his head nonetheless. As you stare at his thigh, covered by a cheap black cloth stretched to the very limit, stuck to yours, almost supported by yours, sending a continuous channel of heat from there to the pit of your stomach, it seems like you've reached a determining point. A definite phase where you can handle him (more or less). Enough not to liquefy on the spot at his every glance, while remaining way too aware of him, his smell, his warmth, every sound coming out of his mouth, his lovely, lovely charms.

You really like him.

"My head hurts." Taehyung's half-dead on the table. You're not too worried because as his head lies flat, his hair marinating in a pool of spilt beer, he can mumble with a lot of coherence about how heavy his head feels, and how it will probably weigh this much until Monday. Jungkook grabs a bunch of tissues to try to slip under Taehyung's head as an absorbing pillow, it's no use though, because Taehyung, strangely enough, feels too comfortable in this position to let himself be disturbed. Jungkook seems concerned, a bit bothered even -way more than you are because you are very much used to this depiction of lame- until Yoongi passes by, observing with deep disapproval written all over his face. He kicks on purpose one of Taehyung's chair legs, making him groan, and leaves.

Greediness turns you bold. Knocking Jungkook's leg the same way he did earlier, you call back his attention on you. For some reason, he stares at your legs, touching. You wonder for a second if you shouldn't have. It's not that much, he did it earlier, but maybe you shouldn't have. He's too pensive. Doesn't budge a muscle. In deep reflection. You hit him again, a tiny little push, and a few others to follow, like an annoying bratty kid trying to steal someone's attention. His hand finds its way to your knee then, enclasps it entirely, thumb pressing and you have no idea if any of this means anything, but it does send a rush of jolt straight between your legs. Surely he doesn't mean this use of firmness to turn you on, does he? How could he even guess it having this effect? You didn't even know it yourself.

It does work though. You stop acting like a feisty little brat, patiently waiting for him to be ready to listen to you. He pretends, mean as he is, that the hand won't stay, letting it slide slightly away from your knee. It doesn't go far though. Somehow it's comfortable a bit higher on your thigh. Not very high. It's awfully PG, awfully casual and platonic, but it serves to drive you a little breathless.

With the wide glassy eyes, the small smile that keeps finding its seat on his lips each time he turns to face you, he's all ears, all eyes, just for you. It's infuriating. Galvanizing. You lavish in it.

"You said it doesn't get lonely?" You blurp out, putting all efforts on focusing on the question you are sincerely curious about. If you didn't have it blinking loud and bright in your brain for the past ten minutes, you would have had it long lost and forgotten. He's messing with your head. But you owe to ask. The curious sadness, that you may have imagined for all you know, you saw briefly earlier needs to be addressed.

If it ever were there, it's gone anyway. As he stares into your eyes, seemingly pondering his next words around in his head, there's a gleam shining to you personally there.

"It doesn't when you don't know what you're missing."

"I don't feel too good, puffskein." Taehyung burps out. Thanks to some miracle, he doesn't end up vomiting all over the table but it's obvious he's this close to it and needs to be taken home. It takes all the goodness of your soul, all of it, to control your urge to grab your wand and throw a forbidden curse on his stupid ass.

The asshole makes you out to be an ungrateful friend, appreciation long gone, aggravation deeply grounded. It was going so well.

"Sorry about Taehyung." You start, wincing a bit. Your back leaned against the door of your room, it's late, quiet and badly lit up in Hogwarts' hallways. Taehyung is sound asleep in his bed, fully clothed and wrenching of a burp who turned down to be vomit. You've managed to use your wand on him, something to make sure he'll have a long and safe night and a rather gentler awakening tomorrow.

Jungkook pretty much carried him on his back, all the way to his bed, without much of a complaint, only a growl or two when Taehyung showed himself difficult in the capricious stairs hall -because it's the best and safest place to try and stumble, blindly, drunk out of your mind.

"It's fine. I had a great time."

"Dragging Tae's drunk ass all the way here was fun to you?" You tease, squinting at him. You know what he means. You know that he knows what you mean. You're only trying to earn time. Just a little bit more time. It's late, he's about to leave you for his room, you assume, and you're not just ready for it yet.

"Maybe not this part."

You don't know what to say to make him stay. It's not like you could possibly invite him inside, is it?

Yoongi would say it's way too soon. Another version of you, maybe a twenty-four-hour younger version of you, the one that didn't know him from this close yet, that didn't get to talk and undergo the full experience that is Jeon Jungkook, to feel his hand on your thigh, his pretty eyes -Merlin, there is a time when you didn't even suspect he hid those wonders right here- would agree. It's not your kind, to have hook-ups. You wouldn't even know how to.

That being said, it's not like you often meet Jeon Jungkooks.

You're not that greedy. You're sure of it. When he's leaning himself against the wall, shoulder pressed against it to support himself, head slightly tilted, watching you soundly, the corner of his lips always curled upward. His eyes say it all. Completely black in the shadow, hooded, tempting. Sending heat to your core, shudders along your spine, tingles to the tip of your fingers.

If he says something, if he suggests anything, you'll say yes. He just has to say it. You've been courageous enough already. Asking him out, talking to him, and everything else. You just can't. You can't imagine admitting out loud what you wish to happen now, exposing yourself to him again by asking him if he'd like to stay the night.

And it's too soon, isn't it?

But Hell, you still have the lucid memory of his hair, running in between your fingers and it's become undeniable how bad you'd like to have it again except this time, you could be less delicate.

"I should probably go."

The disappointment is the language you speak because you're too tired to filter the vexation in your voice, "What, your dragons need to be tucked in?"

"Uh?" He chortles. All teeth out, eyes a bit wide, he regards your face, evidently amused. "Is there anything on your mind you'd like to share, maybe?"

"Absolutely not." You're bratty. It's the tiredness and maybe the butterbeer too. Undoubtedly the frustration. Arms crossed, looking away, pouting because somehow you are unable to relax your mouth and need to be so obvious about it all.

"Are you mad at my dragons?" Jungkook asks lightly. If you don't dare look at his face right now, you can guess it. He must have that smirk you've seen a glimpse of a few times tonight. From your peripheral vision, you can tell he's mocking you. Standing away from the wall, a step closer to you, chest puffed out and arms crossed on it.

"Why would I be?" You mumble, ever so vexed.

"Exactly." He's holding back a laugh, you can hear it louder than if he were to let it out.

Continuing, same tone, same pout, squinting harder at the void that is the end of the hall, "They sound awesome, I have no reason-"

"They are. You should meet them."

Startled, you look up to him, eyes wide with both fear and interest. "Should I?"

"Yeah." His tongue swipes swiftly over his bottom lip before he bites on it for a second, pondering. "Go to bed now so that you're in good shape tomorrow and I'll introduce you then."

Of course, he'd be so casual about it but the idea kind of blows your mind. "Really?" You've seen dragons from afar a very few times, during competitions or this one time, with Taehyung at that circus in Wales. But never have you approached one. Like most wizards, at least all wizards holding the basic amount of worth necessary to their life, it's not something you want to do: approach a dragon. You know that for the Care of Magical Creatures class, Jungkook only brings one dragon at a time. The class with their professor standing on one end of a wasteland, and Jungkook, at least a hundred feet away, presents them the animal.

"Yeah," Jungkook says again, bobbing his head along. You're dazzled by the light the grin adorning his face brought. He really wants to show you his dragons. "But early. Like super early. They're tired in the morning so they won't be too... agitated."

"Is this supposed to reassure me?" He shrugs with the same cheerful beaming.

"Did you hurt yourself with Taehyung?" For the third time tonight, you've seen him reach a hand over his shoulder, messily massaging the muscle with a tiny grimace on his face. He hasn't mentioned it so you did not bring it up but the thought that maybe it's your dumbass of a best friend who's responsible awakes your guilt.

"No, it's not Taehyung." He scoffs. Almost offended that you could imply he hurt himself that way. "I had a bad fall."

"On your back? How do you fall on your back?" There are, actually, a lot of ways for someone to fall on their back but somehow, you can only imagine Quidditch players to have the occasion to do so. You haven't fallen to the ground since you were twelve and finally mastered the skill of flying on a cheap broomstick. But Jungkook is different, right?

"Tina. You'll meet her tomorrow."

Tina. One of his dragons. Of course. He sounds so excited to introduce you to a mythical creature who manifestly attacked him, you start to wonder if that's not the thing that is wrong about him. Because everything is too sweet and lovely and perfect about him, something must be wrong -or else, it's not fair. And maybe his thing is that he is batshit crazy.

"Anyway," A clearing of the throat -you almost missed those, "go to bed. Sleep tight. Tomorrow, I want you-" Your heart stops in your bosom. There's the tongue winking at you again, through his pink lips, it's indecent, makes you forget it all about his alleged insanity, "alive and kicking."

You roll your eyes, raising your eyebrows, bewildered by his choice of words. He laughs, again. The boyish one but quieter, as if he's scared to wake the castle or just a grumpy painting possibly hanging somewhere in the dark. It's lovely. "Thanks for walking me to my room. And for Tae." You say, sincerely, turning to your door to open it.

"You're very welcome." Before you disappear in your suite, you glance his way. It's sappy-you again, needing to take a mental picture of his face, with the hair still pushed back, the rebellious strand from earlier curling against his cheek, his handsome everything, his soft expression and charming smile. He doesn't seem to mind. If anything he's doing the same, not hinting to a departure until you take it upon yourself that maybe, it's enough staring at each other wordlessly for tonight and you wave him goodnight, closing the door behind you.

By Merlin's beard, what the hell happened today?

And what the fuck is going on, now?

Your ass down on the hard ground, head dizzy, with a little warm tingling sensation in the crook of your neck.

Jungkook is standing, looking like he’s a thousand feet tall with his long legs, chest puffed out and leaning upward. He’s facing Tina, the infamous Tina, about his height if you put aside the long tail laying flat to the ground in between her legs. She's a bright degraded of a deep purple and a fire red, covered in scales, sharp and standing upwards every few seconds as if they're breathing along with her lungs.

He has a forearm blocking her jaws open, glaring with the most severe set of eyes you could never have imagined on him boring holes in her flamboyant ones. He’s growling things in a language you think you recognise as Romanian, barking in her face as he forces his arm deeper, gagging her, not caring about the sharp teeth digging in his skin.

After a while of the strangest and scariest staring contest you’ve ever witnessed, the tail lying between her legs flap once and she whines a heartbreaking mewl.

His face softens at that, slightly, he frees her from his arm, taking a step back while keeping an attentive eye on her.

Tina snivels more, as soon as her master’s attention hints at leaving her, rubbing the tip of her gigantic snot against his shoulder blade.

“Not now.” He says, sending her away with a pat to the side of her neck.

This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You simply remain there, staring, gaping, trying to process it all.

You’ve been jumped by a dragon and Jeon Jungkook is-

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He still has his hair pushed back in a messier bun than the one you made for him yesterday as if he knows that you like him a lot like that. Therefore nothing is hiding the most pitiful look you've ever seen on anyone's face when he looks down to you. Eyebrows dropping low above shiny wide pearls, his two hands reaching for you, munching nervously on his lip.

-Terrible. You just had the biggest fright of your entire life -and probably, hopefully, the last one of the kind- and all you can think about, is how wet you got from Jungkook growling like an animal, and somehow intimidating the fiercest animal there is to submission.

“She doesn’t- I didn’t think she’d be that excited, I’m sorry, ___.” He mumbles, guilt laced in every syllabus he pronounces. You accept one of his hand, sliding yours against his palm, hot and calloused, sending warm all over your body as he squeezes around your fingers. “It’s my fault. She’s used to playing rough with me and she doesn’t control her strength very well yet-“

He bends over, catching your second hand in his and lifts you, a bit too strongly given how you are entirely made of mush right now. You hit his chest in the process, he has to steady you once you’re up on your wobbly legs. He holds you with a hand to your upper arm, still hot, still firm, it has the blood to your face boil even more. What kind of experience would it be to bathe entirely in this warmth, to have not the least stupid barrier in between yours and his skin, to feel his firm hold grabbing you, his whole body covering you and pressing you down?

You need to focus on the pets.

Tina seems upset, a few meters away, her tail slapping the ground impatiently but her head held low. There are three others, different sizes and spices, quietly laying above the trees forming the forest glade. They’re watching inquisitively, quiet, as cats would, you had no idea they could behave like that but then again, they were raised by this fucking guy.

The guy still holding you close, breathing hard over your forehead, who’s most definitely searching for your eyes you are deliberately not allowing him to meet. You’re not mad. A bit shook still maybe. You’re just soaked, head filled with inappropriate thoughts you're terrified he might hear from how loud they are. And the oblivious idiot keeps apologising and asking if you’re fine because you should not be, you should probably be more traumatised, certainly not aroused as you are, especially when he’s feeling this guilty. You catch a wobble in one of his words and wonder if he could even cry from a guilty conscious.

Therefore you grant him a glance.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. Really.”

He must see something there, hear the subtle tilt your voice, too soft, has taken because he nods, visibly relaxing. His hand departs slowly, fingers grazing your skin.

“Jungkook, I have something for you.” You say it like you know where it’ll lead. Frankly, you have no idea. You can hope, wish very loud and clear in your mind, but you can’t bet on it. “For your back.” You fish out of your shoulder bag a tiny flask. With its shimmery blue content, the tag on it with his name and a short note consisting of wishes of healing you’re somehow embarrassed to show him. “I made it before coming. It should fix your back in no time.”

“That’s very kind of you, ___. Thank you.” He grabs your hand along with the bottle as if he couldn’t take it on its own, and now you’re sure he knows what he’s doing to you. He can’t be innocently stealing all of these touches from you without knowing how intensely pleasing it feels all over.

“Don’t thank me yet, you might not like the... process.” He raises an eyebrow, head slanting to the side. “It’s a bit uncomfortable for like... 30 seconds and then it gets better.”

“How uncomfortable?”

“Well... Nothing too bad. I’m sure you handled way worse.” He can see you’re not completely honest with him. For your defence, looking at all the scars scattered on the very few skin your eyes have access too, he must be used to some kind of pain. It’s not painful per se. It is uncomfortable. Like dipping a firstly warmed up skin in a cryogenic liquid for half a minute kind of uncomfortable. He senses it. Watching the strange liquid carefully, suspiciously, he’s not certain he’ll use it.

“Is it dangerous?”

You scoff, hands raising to your sides, “No, I mean- Not if you apply it correctly, it’s fine.”

“If I-“ He worries at his lip, frowning, mentally debating the subject as if it’s that much of a big deal. Honestly, the risk, is, not that tragic. An over-application can cause a curious discolouration that will, later on, turn into a marble-like blue patch -it might be definite but you’re not sure-, you can potentially burn your skin too but usually, it only happens -and it’s the case with any magical ointment really- if it’s mixed with another ingredient it shouldn’t come in contact with or on a body that’s already under certain charms -which is not his case, you assume-, and of course, an ointment made for local application should in no circumstances be ingested. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t need to look so scared and suspicious.

“For Merlin’s sake, Jungkook! Don’t use it if-“ You aim to snap it out of his hand but he’s quicker, holding up where you can’t reach, the corner of his eyes crinkling cutely.

“No I want to but- can you do it for me? You worried me.”

“You really are a big baby, aren’t you?” He shrugs, doesn’t deny it. He looks cute like that. Dancing on his two feet, munching on his lip, hands deep in the pockets of his pants. “Fine.” You say without meaning it. You wouldn’t say that you’re fine or that you’ll be fine.

When he walks you to his cabin, twenty meters away from the dragons' playground, your heart starts beating hard and fast, more furiously at every step. It might not mean much more than a nurse job. At the same time, would it make any sense for you to not take the opportunity to take a step and make it more than that? Kim Taehyung would turn you into some kind of pile of whatever gross creature's shit if he were to hear that.

The cabin is super tiny, rustic and barely equipped. Wooden floor, wooden walls, wooden furniture -if you can call them that. Mentally, you curse at Mrs Umbridge. If she didn’t plan this on purpose just because she despises the guy and his pets. You can tell he sleeps in it because of the shitty mattress sitting on a pile of wooden boxes, with the sheets unmade. Discarded used clothes in a corner, a little tower made of books that all seem to be about travelling, magical creatures and travellers’ autobiographies. It’s dark, smells like soot with a tint of something sweet, as if the remnants of a pastry made of cinnamon is hiding somewhere.

Jungkook excuses himself for the mess, even if it’s not much compared to the poor condition he must have received the cabin as, jumping to the only window to tear open the dusty curtain.

It brings a bit of light inside, a subdued but warm yellow-ray coming straight from the barely awakening Sun.

It feels a bit stuffy in here. With him taking over the whole space, and your lungs struggling to pump normally. It feels too intimate, to be standing a few steps away from the place he sleeps in at night. Too intimate because you're not used to it, and two days ago, or even fucking yesterday morning, you would have never thought you'd ever be standing here.

"It's cosy."

You comment, humming to yourself, at the same time as he asks, "Should I take off my shirt?"

You almost choke, tilting your head, watching him with misplaced shock. He's already holding the hem of his black shirt higher on his stomach, exposing smooth golden skin, tight on a thin, sculpted waist, a trail of teasing black hair under his belly button, yet looking at you with his wide round eyes, unsure, quite innocent somehow.

"I don't think you need to- the whole thing." Coward-you hurries to answer, trying to divert your attention to anything but him.

Jungkook turns around, giving you his back and raising his hands to the back neck of his shirt, wincing silently, as he lifts the cloth. The back is almost worst than the front. The thin waist you had a glimpse of, the smooth skin with the golden highlights, the cute dimples at the bottom of his back, the developed, beautifully drawn muscles. A dizzying hot flush takes over your head.

This guy is a mystery. Under his thick, oversized clothes, you knew he was well built, but never would you have expected that. It's not like you care about it usually but with him standing in front of you, smelling so wonderful, with this thing, intense and unique, linking and running in between you two, you can't ignore it all. You can't ignore nor deny how attracted you are and giddy and greedy at the idea of seeing it, of touching it all -when most people don't even get close enough to him to suppose what he's hiding.

It's easy to get back to Earth and the present moment with the large, blue hematoma marking his right scapula. It looks painful as hell, so much so you wonder how he's been handling it so far, how he hasn't visited the infirmary yet, how often it happens and if he always simply tighten his jaws and take the pain until it just leaves.

He turns you cheesy again. You'd like to lean forward and press a kiss to make it better. You wouldn't dare though, and you know, for a fact, that the ointment you prepared for him would be an infinite amount of times more effective to heal him.

He shudders at some point. Probably because you're taking a short eternity to do anything, or just say anything, silently contemplating instead.

Gulping hard, you start, "Bear with me, ok? It'll be better in no time." He grumbles something to himself, way too quiet for you to hear over the loud popping of your potion's bottle and the even louder rummaging of your heart in your bosom.

The first drops seem to be fine. He's not squirming under the gentle touch of your fingertips, handling the strange sensation that the potion causes at first, instantly warming up at the contact with skin. He even relaxes, letting you spread evenly all over the bruise, calm and still as the perfect patient. Until he squeals.

"Fuck, what- ah!"

On reflex, he tries to bend and twist, attempting desperately to avoid the inhumanly freezing discomfort burning his skin. You try to hold him still, hands clasped to his shoulders but he wouldn't stop wriggling, whining like a hurt puppy.

For a tough guy, he can't handle much, you decide. It's amusing but concerning as you see him move around so much, you can imagine how he's stimulating the pain coming directly from his injury rather than the ointment.

"Jungkook, stop!" He manages to knock the pile of his books down with a blind kick. "It'll last just a few seconds, calm down!" Your hands fully pressed against his bruise, the heat coming from your overly agitated heart helping, it releases some of the cold. Somehow your tiny hands on his broad back are enough and he sighs in contentment, just a tiny whimper uttered as a remnant of his short but intense torment.

"Are you ok?" You ask after a few minutes. His breathing has quieted down too. His shoulders hanging low, his head relaxed, ease and comfort have taken over his body and mind.

"Yeah. But-" Tentatively, he tests out his right shoulder, rolling it up and down a few times, a tiny impressed 'wow' escapes him and you grin to yourself, enchanted to see him acknowledge your talent. "When you said discomfort-"

"Sorry about that. I thought you wouldn't want to try but it's worth it, isn't it?"

"It is." He has a sudden burst of laughter when he turns around, flashing you a relieved smile. You can read in his eyes that he's a bit surprised, a bit confused himself about what's so funny, probably settling on the little fright the experience gave him. You won't mention that the potion, if it's so effective and this, so quickly, is because it has very highly active ingredients that mess with the organism as soon as it penetrates the skin and his insides might be a tiny bit all over the place for a few moments.

Suddenly, a big whooshing sound comes from outside, seemingly knocking against the front wall of the cabin and making it shake on its hinges. It just makes him chuckle some more, not worried the least and beyond amused by your reflex to step towards him, hands raised, this close to grabbing a hold of his shirt.

"It's just Tina getting impatient, don't worry."

"Don't worry?" You scoff. The mention of her name brings back the memory from earlier. For some reasons, Jungkook's presence now and inside that memory, make it all seem rather mundane but you're sure, you're positive that you should feel traumatized by what happened. A dragon fucking attacked you. Jungkook shoots you a crooked smile you can't say you recognise. With a little bite on the corner of his bottom lip, dark eyes squinted yet shinning mischief.

"You're safe with me." He says, voice low, teasing, as one of his hand reaches for his index and thumb to pinch lightly at your waist.

"Because they're scared of you somehow?" He laughs again, hand now encompassing your side, staring down at you. He looks so inhumanly attractive. You're confused where this intensity comes from. If it's simple lust, coming from a genuine natural place, the same as yours. Or if the potion is not still messing with him, and his hormones, possibly. It shouldn't. It's been a good ten minutes and his build wouldn't entail this long of a repercussion.

"They're not scared. They just know who's the alpha." He explains with the cockiest shit-eating grin you've ever seen. Even greasy Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't have those. You'd find him gross if he was a hundred per cent committing to the act. There's a lurch though, in the way chocolate marbles shine in childish amusement, the tendentious beam turning into a boyish one, biting back something you know would sound like a giggle if he let it escape. You chuckle yourself, hitting him on the chest -because now that he's healed, he can take it. He doesn't budge an inch, doesn't back the slightest away from you. If anything, the hand holding you slide a bit further behind your back, keeping you close. "I'm just kidding." He whispers, voice as soothing as his attentive gaze as turned. So attentive you feel your face burn with shame. As a poor attempt to deflect your focus on this, your hand raises to his chest again, fingers scrapping at a tiny default in his shirt.

"You're not." He snickers. "I still don't understand how you're not scared of them..." The question somehow was never brought up. The whole night, the day before, your friends and you spend your time praising him and asking so many questions about his life and dragons in general, the things he's seen, the things he's done, the reasons that push him to take this orientation -something about adventure and wanting to see where the world ends was the answer however you could tell it wasn't entirely the real one- but you never actually asked how come he's not terrified of these deadly creatures.

"Honestly, your students are way scarier to me than they are." Your eyes grow big with surprise as you simper. You naturally lean a bit back as you laugh, and he follows you, for some reasons, eyes fixed on you, a tiny smile shaping his mouth. "That one girl the other day, the way she looked at you."

"Yeah, they can be real brats sometimes."

"My dragons, on the other hand, are super playful and soft." He sounds like a little boy, trying to brag about his alleged better pet. Of course, he'd be lethally sexy a second and undeniably adorable the next.

"You're a bit weird, Jeon." Jungkook shrugs, not sure what to say to that because he knows you're right. He can also hear in your voice that you don't mind and he's not sure how to say that he's glad you don't. Because he doesn't say anything you force yourself to look up, study his handsome face to read him. His expression is precisely what you expect yours to look like. Content yet expecting for something more, enamoured.

It's just hard to take the first step. Impossible to overcome.

Only now, from so close he can probably feel your breath hitting his neck, you notice he has a thin beard decorating his jaw. There's a patch missing on the left. You press the tip of your index to the tender skin, noting he's probably got burnt.

"That's what happens when a baby with a cold refuses to leave your shoulder." "It sneezed on you?" He nods, grinning. "I could make something for that. And for your eyebrow too." You stare, your finger caressing the soft skin, cheating a bit and slipping to the side of his jaw where there's nothing except a barely unshaven skin. Jungkook sucks in a breath.

"Would you?"

"If you want me too. You'd be losing charm points for sure but-"

"Oh, I have those?"

For some reasons, it’s this moment your memory chooses to recycle your friend’s words. The ones about him being that great. With the pretty gold glimmer coming from his peculiar round eyes, you do not doubt that he is. “As if.” You roll your eyes, jaded by his certain lie.

And the ones about him possibly being a lot, being too much to handle follow quickly behind. He is a whole lot, from head to toes, to the very essence of his character. The thing is he’s dipped in a thick pool of sweet honey, rounding his edges into something so much more accessible, too easy to swallow, how could you not try. “Let’s not fix it then,” He starts, one of his hand roughly rubbing at his short beard. “you already have too many ahead of me.” You give him a doubtful “oh really?” look he greets with an amused grin. He’s pretty smooth for a guy that hardly ever interacts with women and humans in general. You almost ask if his pets give him dating advice but you decide to keep it for later. The cat and mouse game is getting hard to endure. You’re not bored of it but you know you’re both ready for it to turn a little less playful and a little more decisive -also you don’t know exactly what time it is, however, you do know you have a class in the morning. It (whatever it is) won’t happen with you bullying him restlessly. Maybe one of you will get tired of watching so closely the other's face, you both know the details by heart by now, are probably even able to draw them with your eyes closed, and act. There’s a subtle frown messing up his handsome face. A tiny dip of the starting lines of his eyebrows and a pout reshaping his lips. “I’m really sorry about that.” He mutters, shame dripping from his words. The pad of his thumb raises to your neck, grazing ever so lightly the skin surrounding the tiny cut Tina gave you earlier. It’s not that bad. Doesn’t even hurt anymore. When your heart is beating so fast, when your cheeks are burning so high, when your core is quivering so much, you barely remember about the cut on your neck ever hurting. He seems so sorry though. And then he’s leaning towards you, dubious eyes not leaving yours until he’s hidden in the crook of your neck and can’t see you anymore, and softly, presses his lips to the bruise. It feels like a seizure in your heart. It shouldn’t be much but it is, the softest touch, most delicate, also a beautiful promise for more to come.

You relax under him, his arm naturally sliding further behind you, pulling you flush against him. You tend your neck, expecting more, demanding more. He instead breathes in, nose buried in your hair, humming to himself as if the scent pleases him before he’s kissing your neck again, this time a more resolute kiss, with a tough pressure, a louder smack.

You can’t help but giggle, he sniffed you like an animal would, like a dragon would. The giggle turns into an embarrassing fit of laughter, the tension wearing you out probably helping a lot.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asks, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity and a smile translating his bemusement. He backs away for a second, just to see your face.

“Sorry-“ More giggles, he pinches your side, you barely manage to bite your laughter back in your throat. “Sorry but you’re really- I just didn’t realise to what extent you’ve been raised by dragons.”

He’s confused you can tell, frowning in deep thought yet not looking the least vexed. It makes you smile. Seeing him looking so adorable, a little lost, a little embarrassed. You kiss the palm of his hand, the one that’s sitting where it fits perfectly, tucked in the crook of your neck, his eyes grow big for a split second. “Cause I smelled you? Was it weird? I’m sorry, I’m just used to- like- smells are imp-“

He made it so easy for you to press your lips to his. Everything about him, from his smell to his warmth, to his smiles both from his pretty flushed lips and from the wonders he owns for eyes, his voice soothing, welcoming, words always gentle, always soft. He’s both the unknown and at the same time, the most comfortable aura you’ve ever wanted to dip in.

It’s hesitant at first, or more precisely sheepish, like testing the waters. Figuring out where you’re stepping in, noticing you’re barely keeping your nose up and afloat. It’s scary, new and exciting. Requires a little bit of practice, some intended nibbles, some timid lingering.

You’re both unsure, trying until you’re not anymore. Like a button blooming into a rose, suddenly turned bright bloody red, intense and passionate, with fierce thorns digging and scratching at the skin.

You sigh into him, he’s humming as in agreement. There’s a little agitation coming from outside. As if they know what you two are doing, how you’re feeling. As if impatient Tina can tell you’re stealing her human right under her snoot.

He is so willing to get stolen though. Chasing after your mouth when you worry for a second about the ruckus going on just behind the wall, arm tightening around you, hugging you as close as he can, his body melting with yours whenever your fingers dig in his skin.

You’re the first one to slip your fingers underclothes to just have a little sample of naked skin. It’s just past the hem of his sweatshirt, the soft and burning skin of his waist. It spurs him on. As if he was just waiting for you to give him permission, his hands find a home under your shirt. Flat on your skin, so large, so hearty, raw skin from someone who’s worked with those hands a lot, feeling so nice on you, feel like he’s holding you captive in between the palms.

The hand against your back slides up, stopping an instant where your bra is sealed, toying with it as if he’s wondering if he can. Deeming that he can’t, for some unknown reason, he goes further to grip the back of your neck. You’re too busy with his tongue teasing yours, with the growing stiffness digging in your stomach to notice. Have your brain been less occupied, you would probably have the fingers playing with the ends of his hair, pulling a little harsher than they already are. He’s loving it, it seems. Moaning each time you do, groaning each time your nails slip through the hair to scrap at his skin.

Everything is too good. Everything feels made to be, bodies made to meet and make up. It feels like this could be enough. Highly satisfying, more delicious than any make-out session has ever felt because none of those boys before were Jeon Jungkook and never have you liked someone as much as you like him.

But Jeon Jungkook can’t be perfect. You don’t know if he means to be to tease or if it’s just him holding onto some doubts, some insecurities, not wanting to go too far without you explicitly telling him that it’s what you want -because, clearly, it’s not evident enough, the way you’re hanging off of his mouth, limp in his arms, subjectively grinding against his cock can’t be telling enough.

His second hand, the one closest to all the places you want him to invade, won’t give in. Set on your stomach, his thumb retracing the underline of your bra, this hand is the very incarnation of a tormentor. You don’t last long, grousing in your mind, losing your shit and your patience, giving him chances after chances to finally get to it but of course he never does.

Your frustration reaches its limits when you back away from him, hitting his chest with your fist, breathless and frowning.

He’s too dazed, hooded eyes barely seeing anything but your swollen mouth, to comprehend. Until you bark his name, punching him again.

Jungkook takes in your mad eyes, scrunched eyebrows and impatient tapping of your foot on the cabin's floor.

“Touch me.” You whine more than you demand. His light chuckles fill the suffocating air, diffusing a little bit of the tension and maybe it’s not for the worst.

“Is that all?” He asks, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your pouty mouth. “You scared me.”

“I don’t care.” He is so gentle on your lips. The sweetest touch you’ve ever received there. Your heart is growing exponentially, threatens to burst in your chest and you’re loving every single second of it.

“You’re a bit mean when you’re frustrated, you know that?” He can hardly contain his amused grin long enough to kiss you. Explicitly telling you, he doesn’t care much for your moody outbursts. “And,” Another kiss right in the centre of your awaiting lips. “I was touching you.”

“Not enough.”

“What’s enough, lil’ brat?” He mumbles against the skin of your neck, biting a little at it, definitely grinning to himself there. You almost cum there.

“Touch me here.”

You can sense his cockiness drops to the ground when you grab his hands and press them to your clothed breasts. He just gapes, too shocked to act, as if it’s the first pair he’s coming in contact with. You have to do everything on his behalf and really, thankfully for him, you like him that much you don’t hold it against him. Tearing the cups of your bra down and under your breasts, guiding his long fingers to your tender mounds, he takes in a shaky breath, his curious eyes borne into yours.

Tentatively, he wraps his hands around them, weighing them, the pad of his thumb caressing the skin, enjoying taking extra time on the nipple. You can tell he wants it, he’s too willing to touch you, yet his mouth, the stupid thing, starts to stutter, “B-but, I don’t think righ-“

“Please.” And if this isn’t enough, you’re giving up. You’ve tried so hard. Asking, moving his hands for him, pleading with your boobs out and your shirt bunched up over them. If this isn’t enough, you’re giving up and probably kicking him in the dick in your way out.

His puppy eyes fall from your eyes down to your breast, almost reluctantly. He leaves out a tiny whimper of pain. As if he’s the one hurting. As if it’s not you, the one suffering, the one tortured, because he’s been messing with you, shaking your insides upside down, baiting and lightening up sparkles but refusing to feed you accordingly the way you need to. As if he’s not the only one inflicting himself the torment, refusing to give in for reasons you don’t understand.

Until something clicks in his brain, finally, common sense meeting desires, his mouth fall from your neck and straight to your nipple, kissing hungrily. Licking and sucking and nibbling, moaning almost as much as you do. Once both your nipples are swollen and a pretty flush, he senses your sensitivity, deciding to drop from the buds, meaning to cover the whole supple surface of your tits with lovely kisses and infuriating grazing of the teeth.

The position is awkward. Him bent in half, you on your tiptoes, trying to ease the access for him while simultaneously ordering your wobbly legs to keep on supporting you. The task is not easy, so poorly executed he gets tired of it in seconds, big hands seizing you to pick you up, holding you close, your legs wrap around his waist, so comfortable, so natural, somehow more convenient for him, he doesn’t seem to be in the least amount of effort as he feasts gladly on your chest. His hands stay on your ass, fingers digging, occasionally dragging you up and down his front where you can feel him hot and hard against your centre, a few times squeezing and tearing your cheeks apart. If this is not what paradise tastes like, then you don’t know what is.

It’s perfect pleasure, pure satisfaction.

But of course, you’re human.

Soon, it’s not enough, anymore. And more and more you want and you need. You can feel your cunt clench around nothing, drops of honey dripping from the side hems of your panties crotch. He’s so good to you, lavishing and ravishing your breast like it’s the only job he’s ever wanted but you want more. Maybe you’ll let him worship you another day. Place the kisses and paint the marks he wants on every inch of your body.

Right now you need release. Any kind. He’s pent you up to a point, you can’t handle the idea of not letting any steam out.

You’re about to get bitchy again. Getting saltier and saltier at every empty-handed clench of your cunt. If you don’t take a step now, make him take the step, you’ll turn into a sex-deprived gremlin again, this time worse than earlier, and it’s not a good look you wish for him to see -again.

“Jungkook?” You can sense him perk up at the call of your name, even though he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He hums against your nipple, held tight in between his wet lips. “Fuck, Guk- just- uh- your bed.” No reaction. You suspect he didn’t even listen. “Take me to your bed, Jungkook!” It’s the harsh pull on his hair that’s made him look up and pay attention to your words. Like an obedient puppy with unmatching dark eyes, he nods, swirling around to head for his bed, carrying you effortlessly like you're not a full-grown adult hanging from his neck.

You’re about to meet his sheets. You’re about to get ravished and treated so, so right. You can tell from all the promises his hooded gaze has no shame sharing. Anticipation is killing you. The tenderness and affection along with the evident intense lust you read in him are killing you. Your back is just about to meet his sheets when it just doesn’t. He’s holding you centimètres away from it, eyebrows frowned, preoccupation taking over his face and covering everything sexy that fitted it so prettily.

“I can’t have you on this bed.”

“Wha- why?!” Maybe you yelled a bit. He winces. You don’t know what you look like right now, lust turned into pure fury, you just hope if you feel and talk like a gremlin, you still don’t look like one.

“Have you seen it? It’s not even a bed, it’s just a pile of dirty rags probably a thousand years old-“ It’s sweet and annoying, infuriating beyond belief. He’s blushing too. One foot hitting with spite the pile of rags he was given to use as a bed.

You want to cry.

“Why are you so fucking difficult, Jungkook?” You spit his name with venom, forehead hitting his shoulder, defeated as you feel. He’s hugging you closer, hands less sexual and just warm tenderness as they slide along your spine, pressing you closer if it’s even possible. Feels nice. But your panties, the soaked ruined cloth that is uncomfortably sticking to your cunt are reminding you you’re hating this moment.

“I don’t mean to. I- you deserve better than-“

“But you sleep on it!”

“I can sleep anywhere, it doesn’t matter but you’re too pretty to be laying on this.” You huff at that. Too frustrated to just take the compliment and let it shake your belly with the butterflies in it like a kid would a Christmas snow globe. “I’m sorry.”

“Should apologise to yourself, why you’re sleeping in it if it’s shit? Don’t you deserve better?”

He can tell how you feel. You’re kind enough to let everything clear as day, written in a language he mastered in so little time, an intimate one he’s only allowed to see. He sees the disappointment. Also the ease you’re feeling. The lust that’s not left. The despair and frustration tinted by dark shades of anger. You look cute as hell. All pouty and mushy in his arms. Whining and complaining and so angry yet fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck. He can tell you’re bitchy, feel like arguing but probably want something else even more.

“Wouldn’t it be better to use your bed instead? I saw it yesterday, looks nice.” He suggests, kissing your jaw to relax you.

“It is, it’s a troll size.” You lean your head back, giving more space for his mouth, mumbled words hardly falling from your pout.

“I saw that.” He says, amusement teasing the corner of his eyes.

“Professor Jeon!” The amusement completely annihilates from his eyes, his pretty rosy lips falling in a shocked o, along with all colours leaving his face. You gasp silently, wide eyes matching his.

There’s a terrifying succession of thuds shaking the little cabin, the call of his name again. Slowly, he releases you from his arms, making sure you meet the ground without emitting the least noise.

“I told you I had a class-“ he mimes with his mouth rather than speak.

“You never told me that?”

“I mean- I tried to but you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t list-“

“Professor Jeon?” More knocking on the door. You both hear the man outside mumbling to himself, a little commotion and you can tell, he’s trying to find a way to reach the window to have a look through it. Jungkook jumps on it, tearing the curtain in front of the blurry glass.

“Yes- uhm-“

“Are you okay? The class is ready for today’s demonstration! We’re all excited about that Opaleye you’ve talked ab-“

“Hagrid, I- I need to- finish get ready so- if you and the class could wait- f-five seconds?”

You are fuming. Glaring at him with the meanest eyes you own. Smoke probably coming out of every orifice, desperately trying to leave out some steam or else you’ll be spitting fire better than his fucking pets do. Tucking your boobs back in your bra, tearing your teeshirt back down, probably looking as miserable as you feel.

He’s apologetic though. One hand holding yours between gentle fingers, massaging kindly the palm of your hand. Looking guilty as hell, pouty with the watery eyes, a sweetheart.

And you like him. The realisation hits you once again, full force, you like him a whole lot. Frustration fading into compliance, leaving you helpless, about to forgive him wholeheartedly and suggest to come back later when his schedule sees it more fitting.

“Alrighty! I’ll show them that cute baby dragon I see over there-“

Jungkook winces visibly. Even you can tell it’s not a good idea to leave Hagrid alone with kids and dragons unsupervised, his reputation precedes him, unfortunately. He doesn’t hint a gesture towards the door though. Observing you with attentive eyes, the same from earlier, as if he’s trying to memorise your traits with utter accuracy, knowing he won’t be seeing it for at least the whole day ahead. You should suggest he takes a picture, it’ll last longer. But you’re overwhelmed with a vague wave of sadness, suddenly, so close to the parting from him and so unready for it.

You don’t know if he sees it, senses it, if when he kisses you hard on the mouth it’s to make himself feel better or if it’s just for you. It works in any case. Your heart filled up as it’d been, with lust and affection and something that can’t be but is so akin to love.

“I wish you didn’t have a class-“

“Do you want me?” He asks in a breathless whisper. The question is ridiculous, the answer being so fucking evident, you’d hit him to the side of the head if you didn’t like so much how intimate, how sexy he sounds murmuring against your lips.

You nod. Realising as you try and fail that he’s stolen all air from you -and probably a few other things like your heart and sanity along the way.

“Can you be quiet?” His hands have already dropped from your face, attached to the hem of your pants, hurried fingers proceeding to open them up. The situation in its entirety with the environment, with the people outside at most a dozens of meters away, the awkwardness, the everything can’t hit you, can’t take a sensible shape. No information able to be treated because of him, his everything, the whole lot that he is, infuriating, dizzying, shattering, moving. All you know is that you can be quiet, you can be whatever he wants you to be right this instant.

“I’m sorry for being so terrible at all that-“ He starts, sincere but light, amused, comfortable with you -and that’s the nicest look you’ve seen on him. “I’ll make it up to you until later when I- can really make it up to you.”

It’s funny to see the two facades of his personality clash like that. He’s apologising, red in the cheeks, but also a mouth, reshaped by a confident fatal crooked smirk, stating promises as facts.

How does he know he’ll make it up to you? How does he know he’ll make you feel good enough you’ll forgive his clumsiness?

“I’ll need more than five seconds, Jeon.” That makes him chuckle silently, shaking his head and squinting in defiance.

“You’ll need hardly more than that.” He says, dragging your pants and your panties at once, down a few centimetres.

Heat burns your face as air hits your centre. It feels shockingly exposing even if he can't see much from up there, with your shirt down, with little to no light coming from the curtained window and his large hand, that doesn’t wait for a second, slipping in between your thighs, covering your mound instantly as his mouth covers yours.

He’s right. This fucker.

You don’t time but you know he makes you come incredibly fast.

First starting by sliding a lone finger in your heat to quickly realise that you are soaking wet, sloppy to be exact, perfectly able to fit at least two and probably a third one easily. And he obliges so, filling the torturous void, fucking you with them slowly, dragging the pad of his rough fingers along your walls, teasing your sensitive entrance with lovely, lovely strokes. The sound -and he has to slow down to keep it quiet enough- is obscene. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been so fucking turned on. Dripping down your legs and unto his hand.

He spends only a few minutes on that, on fucking you nice and open when you both know he won’t even be able to fill you as you both wish he would until, well, some undefined time. It should be revolting, that thought, sort of a quick, immediate satisfaction for a long term painful wait.

But then his fingers leave your hole to migrate to your clit, as engorged as ever, as it’s not been for a long, long time, all of this for this stupid crush, from this stupid man, from his kisses and his scent, and his purposefully neglecting to give it attention. A few strokes only, fast and hard, messy and desperate with a sweet pet name he’s never used but fits so nice from his lips press to your ear and you’re coming, hole kissing emptiness, it sucks but you're invaded with so much content, legs shaking, heart beating fast, remnants of the orgasm reshaping the whole stance of your body, feels like you've just moved in an entirely new one, and head dizzy, feeling in love.

“Told you.” He’s chuckling to himself. Full of himself as he wipes you clean with a teeshirt he just picked up from an open travelling bag.

“Shut up, Jungkook.” You groan. One hand holding onto his bicep while his owns diligently tie back your pants, fixing you like nothing happened. The orgasm has been so good, it devoided you of all strength and energy you may have had.

You need to leave. Or more precisely, he needs to leave and meet the class, take them away probably in the forest so that you can escape and flee back to the castle. It’s inevitable.

You close your eyes for a second. Trying to empty your head, focus on breathing properly again, hiding how upset you feel. It’s not that dramatic. Surely, you’ll catch him again, today probably, later, tonight, but you feel so upset. Like a little girl. You don’t want to leave him yet.

Jungkook calls your name softly. You open your eyes, biting on your lip to contain all the emotions wanting to spill out right under his nose.

“Do you like me?” This time you have to throw a punch to his side -it hurts your knuckles more than it does him- because how dare he ask and look so unsure of the answer. “Well, I don’t know- I don’t- you never know with women and- and like- I- you never said-“

“I’ve liked you for two years, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Two...?”

You see the gears rolling, slowly, unsettled by big knots of confusion. You’re sweet, you’re generous and you just came in his hand, literally, so you have no issue admitting -with only a slight blush on the apple of your cheeks, “When you first came for the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t-“ Again with the apologies. With the looking so pitiful, with the guilt, with the him being so lovely of a man, especially when he’s so big and covered in all those warlike scars.

“Well you had this in your eyes anyway, would have been hard to notice me.” You joke, stealing one of the locks hiding behind his ear and tickling his eyelids with it. He scoffs, smiling before he slips it back where it was.

“Thanks to Taehyung, I have a hair tie now. So that I can see you better.” He’s beaming, staring at you fondly, it’s insufferable and you look away, embarrassed as ever because those big eyes being just yours, admiring you -for what too?- are hard to handle. You need practice.

“Is it your dragons teaching you all this cheesy garbage-“ He cackles at that, not even letting you finish and you’re loving the idea that it’s you causing that. “You need better wingpets.” He laughs even harder, you’re grinning even harder until a screech, ear-splitting, resonates through the whole surrounding forest. For a second you wonder if it’s not just Tina throwing a fit because she heard how her master is having so much fun with someone else than her but there’s a commotion following and what sounds like a seventeen-year-old Slytherin boy losing his shit, yelling and crying, and alarm takes over Jungkook's face.

“Can I see you tonight?” He asks in a hurry and you nod. “I’ll meet you in your room after I trained-“ A big smooch to your lips. “Actually maybe before, I don’t know, I-“

“Just go, Jungkook.” His eyes say something his mouth can’t, you can read the trepidation, as he sprints to the door, gaze not leaving you.

You can’t be sure a hundred per cent but you’re almost certain he just told you that he really likes you too and suddenly, you don’t feel as upset as you did, knowing you will find him back later.

« Thanks for earlier. »

For a second, you don’t know what he’s referring to. Until he points a finger towards his crotch, a little flush showing on his cheeks, where his hair doesn’t reach.

That makes you laugh. You shrug your shoulders, waving his thank away because of course, you wouldn’t let him run in the middle of a class full of teenagers with a rock hard cock showing through his pants.

Too focused on the possible catastrophe happening in his front yard, he didn’t seem to realise, if any discomfort or pain ever existed he couldn’t acknowledge it but you surely did.

After having it pressed to your crotch, having felt its hardness and its heat, there’s no way you’d be able to just stop thinking about it. Then in the cabin, with your tingling cunt and sticky panties, and the whole day ahead, no matter how far away from him you were, physically and supposedly mentally, it’s just all you could think about.

Blushing incessantly at the least stimulating moments. Gagging back giggles whenever a word, a touch, a smile of his recalled itself to you, and this in front of confused and suspicious eyes.

The whole day was a pain. It simply wouldn’t roll fast enough.

Now here you are, standing in front of him, not recognising him fully. He’s hiding behind his hair again. He’s quiet and awkward like he too forgot how to talk to you.

Maybe that’s what you get for meddling with him so quickly. Suppose you get separated for a short dozen of hours, he becomes a stranger again.

It’s an awful feeling. Seems like maybe you made it all up. The comfort, the noncommittal love and adoration, the ease, the lust, the warmth. Maybe all of it was just a hazy dream. Made up yesterday evening by alcohol and this early morning by fatigue.

Here you are sober and empty of any other commitment and you can’t picture how you could have gotten to that special place and how to find it back if it ever existed.

“You’ve let your hair down.” You simply say. Maybe it’s your way to point out aloud how you feel like you’ve been thrown a thousand steps back. He’s hiding behind his hair, being unreachable again.

“Yeah, I just- they were all staring so I felt awkward-“ You mean to interrupt, let him know because you’re sure that he doesn’t (the boy from the bar yesterday didn’t know) that if they were staring it’s because he is that beautiful and certainly no one has expected that. “I wanted to tie it back for now but I lost the little thingy.” You take a step forward, closing some of the distance between him standing against the wall and you in the middle of your room. The more you hear his soft voice, the more you recognise him. “I hope Taehyung won’t be mad, I can buy a new one for him.” You could probably point out that Jungkook probably did not lose anything. That probably Taehyung used a charm and like any of those, the object you didn’t pay for, that materialised itself from thin air, simply disappeared after some time. Maybe you’ll tell him later. Right now you’re close to him again, so close you can catch a glimpse of an eye under the pretty locks. Your ears recognise him, your nose too, and you’re impatient to see if your fingers would too.

You reach up, catching his fringe in between your fingertips and dragging them behind his ears, opening the silky curtain and smiling to yourself, eyes almost blurry with emotion, when you see his handsome face now on display. With the pretty brown eyes, the rosy lips, the cut eyebrow and that scar on his cheek, just above his timid dimple that shows up only when it wants.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” He squeaks out, flushing. “I must look ridiculous-“ He gestures you his hair your holding hostage behind his ears, taking advantage to caress his soft skin with the pad of your thumbs.

“You look cute.” He does. He looks a bit awkward, like a boy who just finds himself with too much hair and tries to do something about it. “Very cute.” You add, beaming when you see his embarrassment grow.

“Liar.”

He catches one of your wrists in his hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the thin skin of the inner part. Lips soft, eyes soft, voice tender. “I thought about you a lot today...” Somehow he found you back too. He feels comfortable saying this while you’re sure he’s not used to it. Therefore even if you hate it, you can’t help but admit it. That you too, obviously, could only think about him the whole day. “I’m not here to stay forever, ___.”

Your airy smile flatters until it disappears completely.

Way to ruin the mood.

He senses it. Press the hand leaving his face back against his cheek, pressing the second one to his mouth again as if he could bring you back to him and forget all about what he just implied.

Obviously.

Obviously, his life is not here, in Hogwarts. He’s not a professor, he doesn’t want to become one, he’s here for a project that has a defined limited time - Mrs Umbridge made sure of it. He’s an adventurer anyway. He only knows forest and lands and mountains and mythical creatures, extreme weathers and dangerous places.

Obviously, you two only properly met a few days ago, only started to get to know each other less than 24 hours ago, it’s too soon to be in love, too soon to be so attached that a separation would feel that devastating. But even if you’re not, you feel in love. You feel wonderful in his arms, under his gaze, with his pretty smiles lighting on you and his sweet voice rocking your heart.

It’s so upsetting to think about. You don’t want to. Just him hardly bringing it up makes you so upset you could cry.

“But I- I know that you know that already. Maybe it’s clear for you that- we can’t-“ The more he talks the less sense he makes. Every syllabus seems dragged out of his mouth. He struggles so bad, your hand distractingly playing with the neck of his shirt, only because his hand wouldn’t let it go, you can feel his beating heart through the thick vein of his neck. “What I mean to say is- I don’t know what this- could mean to you. If it means anything or it’s just- like- fun,” Your eyebrow ticks at that. How dare he? “either way I don’t mind-“ He’s quick to add. “Really! Whatever you want is fine. I just mean to say that we can’t- I mean- at some point, I’ll be very very far away so-“

“Does it matter now, Jungkook?”

The whole dilemma is not that hard to solve, on your part anyway. There’s nothing you can do about his future departing, is it? All that’s under your control is either you decide to indulge in him, have him the way you crave to, feed in this lovely thing that’s started blooming yesterday evening between you two and later on, deal with the heartbreak you’ll surely have once he leaves. Or will you deny yourself this, still get the heartbreak but way earlier on and have to nurture it for probably less long but in this peculiar case, through a thick coat of regrets.

You hate to think about it all. You hate to think about a time when he’s not going to be around, not even only appearing at the end of a hallway, not even noticing you, not doing anything special except existing and breathing the same air as yours.

It’s clear for you. He’s right here, right now, literally right under your hands, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to consume as much as him as you possibly can, if only he’ll let you.

He looks worried, concerned. Not on the same page as you maybe. Guilty too. While it’s not his fault. It’s your own stupid, unpractical dumbass’s fault for falling for the only guy that lives like a fucking wild animal and is probably inept to leave his wild savage life for more than a couple of months at a time.

An attempt nibble to his bottom lip. Your eyes shut close slowly as to not squeeze a droplet menacing to fall from your eye. He sighs deeply, leaning into your mouth for a moment.

“I guess it doesn’t have to matter now.” He decides, pressing a new kiss to the relieved smile growing on you.

"Cause you had a few things to show me, I believe..." It's subtle. Sort of. The words may be but the eyes you give him are not, demanding, minxy. Your intentions are no secret to him and you can tell in the way he smirks, kissing you again, this time his warm palms holding your cheeks still. He's made up his mind too.

It's all you needed to wash it all behind. Everything that could be too heavy for your shoulders or your heart to carry right now. Anything that could affect this moment, tarnish it, make it lesser than it could be.

It just has to be good. Only good and nothing else. His hands everywhere, on your ass, squeezing, on your breast, fondling. He seems to have remembered what you like. He's not withholding, he's not overly gentle. He's still awfully tender, awfully sweet because it's just the essence of his person, you feel it in every breath you steal from him. The way he carries you so softly, sitting you down on his lap as careful as ever as to not have you tip over and fall off of the bed.

When you're so greedy and almost rude in comparison, lavishing in the position he just offered you, groaning when you feel his thick thighs stretching yours wide, grinding already, sliding forward to feel his hardness anew against you. You touch him everywhere because his body feels surreal. Hard and taut and skin boiling even through his clothes. Your hands disorganized, impatient, start by unbuckling his belt to then jump to the hem of his shirt, dragging the cloth up and off of him.

You hardly catch a glimpse of fair honey skin before the light is shut off suddenly. There's the very recognizable thud of a wand hitting the wooden floor that hints at you that he's the one who did turn it off and you want to whine and complain and maybe even argue a little, and maybe more, enough for him to turn it back on but his wet mouth is sucking at your collarbone, the indignant scold dies into an insignificant, trembling whimper.

He lets you undress him. Even if you're missing the visual, you decide you'll enjoy the touch. His skin is so soft, too soft in a few spots where you guess he's been hurt, uneven, little bumpy traits, here and there, like the trace of a road on a map, scattered all over his chest, his shoulders, his arms. He feels wonderful under your fingers. Hot and soft. He smells heavenly, encaging you as he does, you're bathing in his scent, earthy, smoky, masculine.

You have the push him away, a hand on his jaw, another on his chest to have him quit mouthing at your skin and lay his back down on the mattress. In the very dim light, you catch his shiny eyes, wide and intense as they observe you in the dark. You lean over, pressing kisses you hope as loving as his on his skin, starting from his cheek, you feel moving under your lips from him smiling, descending to his hard belly without missing a spot.

Your mouth turns extra delicate when your lips meet uneven skin, as if you could hurt him, as if he hasn't been long healed and your lips aren't the last thing that could ever hurt him, it makes him gasps and sighs though, each time, you feel his abs tighten under you, his thighs stiffen.

"Am I hurting you?" You ask quietly, even if you doubt it.

"Yeah-" He sighs and you freeze. "I mean no! No, no, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" You insist and he groans in defeat. You might be palming his cock through his pants, which you should be patient enough to wait until he answers properly if you'd honestly like an answer. But the rock hard member has been poking your thigh for too long and you can't help it. He's so responsive too, concealing poorly his groans and his moans, his whole body and cock twitchy under you.

You're close to giving him more. To give him fully what he came for. Nails grazing with intent the line where the hem of his underwears lay but not moving down further, hinting at something more but not giving in yet.

It's exhilarating to have him so docile under you, waiting, hardly patiently, for you to give him what he wants and you can tell, from how hard he is, that he really does want it. He sucks his breath in one more time, loudly, and you snickers above him, excited as you are.

Until he decides it's enough. Raising one thigh fast and hard, pushing at your ass, making you tip over with a squeal. He catches you with the cheeky chuckle you've grown to adore, rolling you unto your back so he can hover over you. You feel so tiny under him, with his strong thick arms encasing you, the line of his wide shoulders barely decipherable in the dark. Your hand follows the line, appreciating him to be so willing to be touched, always leaning onto your fingers. When it stops at his chest, your fingers mean to play a little but you're stopped in your track by the thudding hitting your palm. It takes you a hot second to realise it's his heart, being so loud and agitated, so expressive from where it's hidden. Of course, someone as reserved as him would have a heart that vocal.

"Your heart's beating so hard." You comment quietly. You don't mean to embarrass him. You don't even mean to reverse the power button hanging between the both of you. Yours in your own chest has to be causing a similar ruckus. But it's his that matters right now. You can't get over the fact that it's for you.

"Stop teasing me." He grumbles. He's not even vexed. He's embarrassed, but you hear the slim smile in his voice, a sheepish one.

"I'm not. You should feel mine." He hums against your mouth, then backs away laughing a bit.

"Smooth."

"It wasn't-" You sigh in defeat. It was not a subtle attempt to have him take care of your tits. Seriously. He's too glad to comply though, you're not one to complain.

You only have a vague notion of time passing, of things progressing. Somehow a second he's suckling on your nipples through the thin material of your top and the next, both of you are naked, panting in each other's face. Your nipples erect and still wet, occasionally rubbing against his chest, two of his thick fingers pumping in between your folds, a third one occasionally teasing the entrance, hinting at a stretch you're so greedy to feel even though you're not sure you can take; your hands wrapped around his shaft, pumping furiously, squeezing hard to have him hiss and curse against your lips, with your thumb teasing the slit of the tender slick head.

His free hand is at your neck, resting there, fingertips pressing in your skin, his thumb toying with your swollen bottom lip whenever he's biting too hard on his own to kiss you properly.

"I'm close..." You whimper, nibbling on the flesh of his thumb. He smiles vaguely at you, hooded eyes unfocused, eyebrows scrunched from pleasure. "I want you, Jungkook."

"Like now?" Fuck. You really have to like the guy a lot. He dares stop fucking you too, all attention now driven to your face. You don't say anything, your eyes telling enough. He nods to himself. "Okay, now. But uh-"

"Jungkook, sometimes you're half-useless." You try not to be mean but you can't help some snarkiness to escape. You have patience. You have a lot of it. But he just makes everything so difficult. How can you be sin and temptation embodied and at the same time, be so fucking clueless? He's like the cure but also the disease.

You roll over on your bed, grabbing a condom from your bedside table that a certain friend I don't need to name provided you with, to then face him again, brandishing the foil packet in his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to-" He seems confused for a second, struggling to get the thing open and you wonder if it's been as long as it's been for you since the last time he's been with someone like that, or if it's been even longer. "but-" Growing even more impatient, you jump on your knees, kneeling next to him, taking the thing from him and tearing it open for him. "You're, like, a lot."

You stay silent for probably too long, frozen, hit by his words probably too intensely.

"In a good way! In a- in a, you're- I like you a lot and it makes me all-" He's talking too much you decide. Stuttering the sweetest things you have a hard time hearing while you're both naked in your bed, so near to get even closer, even more intimate to each other in a way you're too excited about to handle any extra pandering -especially given, you know exactly what he meant. Who would have thought? Jeon Jungkook talking so much you'd have to kiss him quiet.

"How do you like it?" He asks in a whisper, kissing your jaw in a way that makes you shudder. He's making you lightheaded, so dizzy, with the stupid jumps between his sexy lust-filled self and the adorable clueless dude he can also be.

"Just- however you'll have me." You answer, ignoring blatantly that it doesn't mean much.

So he decides. Laying you down on your back, hovering you. The thought that maybe you are made for each other hits you full face then, because that's exactly how you'd like him to have you. Just like earlier, so close, so intimate, sort of intimidating, dominating too. All yours and you, even more, his, with his soft locks caressing your forehead, lips so close you hardly have to make any effort to reach, not that he lets you have your mouth for your own for too long anyway, every few seconds, claiming it with lingering kisses tasting of greed. You know you're in trouble as soon as the very tip of his cock squeezes in. It's somehow a tight fit, even with his earlier ministrations, even with the ones from this morning that made you feel loose all fucking day. Jungkook only fucks you with the head of his shaft for a while, feeling you so tight around him, savouring the sensation but also worried he'd hurt you if he were to go further.

You're on edge. On edge of a devastating orgasm, already too fucking close, and even if you could blame it on the foreplay, on your hormones or whatever else, he'd know. He'd know it's because of him, because of how much you like him, of how good he makes you feel, how much he turns you on.

You don't really care. He's already panting in your ear, groaning and moaning with tight jaws about how good you feel and how pretty you are, when he's only half of the way inside and that's more than enough. It's kind of too much. Kind of impossible to handle.

It's a mewl to the shell of his ear and the digging of your nails in his firm ass that push him further and balls deep inside you. It feels like discovering new places within yourself, places you haven't reach before alone or with someone else, brings a rush of excitement to your whole body that translates in a vice tight clench around him.

He fucks you so good, it feels so nice, his cock was made for you. His rhythm steady, rather slow but powerful, sending you a tiny bit higher on the bed at each thrust, with one arm slid behind your back, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to hold you still enough. It's little to no effect but it drives you crazy, having him own you like that. From all those places, his dick, his thigh pressing yours higher, his hands, his mouth, his words. Bewitching, he is. Everything feels and sounds and touches him, the air you breath tastes like him.

You wish it'd last forever but it can't. Like everything that tastes that wondrous.

"Jungkook, I think- uh- gonna come." You lie because you don't think, you know you're about to come even if it's been a couple of minutes since he's started. Conveniently, the moon chooses this very moment to come out of wherever she was hiding, shining right through the only window of your suite and hitting him right in the face to bring clear light to him and to his grin, the smug grin you've only caught glimpses of. Your nails dig deeper in his flesh, he gasps lightly and bites on his lip but the smirk doesn't leave, even though it looks ridiculous with his heavy droopy gaze, his red cheeks and his heaving. He's as affected as you are. And that's that precise revelation that throws you over the edge. You mewl aloud, turned euphoric with how incredible it feels to have him keep fucking you through your orgasm, with his cock dragging along your tight, sensitive entrance with his movements.

Soon he follows. You don't exactly catch the moment, too lost in your own euphoria to decipher when his begins, but you feel the change in his thrusts, sloppy and harsher, skin slapping louder in the quiet room and once you've both bathed fully in the pleasure, came back to the now calmer, quieter Earth, you realise your ear rings with the ghost of a raw, low scream that certainly was his.

Fuck, you need to hear this again but this time with your full, undivided attention.

But another time.

Right now, you're half dead. Your hearts have just started coming down from their high. With him laying almost entirely on you. The most of his weight he safely pressed to your side but he's clinging to you, the round tip of his nose buried in your neck, hands holding you tight against him and legs intertwined with yours. Your hand has found its way to his hair, the ungodly mess, fingers gently massaging his scalp, rolling the curls in between.

"So warm..." He hums against your skin, almost purrs. You smile lazily. "Never wanna leave."

"You don't have to." It's the exhaustion that renders your filter ineffective. You know you shouldn't have said that. You know even more so when he doesn't say anything back. "For now, I mean." You don't even know how much of this is a lie. If you really were only thinking about this moment, this night or if the future you both know too well, ugly but very real just waiting its moment to play out, was also on your mind. You're too tired and concretely, fucked out, to even think properly.

"I still have four months." It's a poor consolation. You don't mean to spoil it all. After having spent such a precious, wondrous time with him, you don't want to fuck it all up but you can't help your heart from squeezing painfully in your chest, your throat from struggling to swallow down the heavy ball that's lodged up there. Jungkook senses it. You know he does by the way he holds you tighter, pressing one of those kisses, the most tender ones, at the corner of your lips. "We'll figure something out." He says with an assertion you didn't expect and don't know the origins of. Yet, you trust him and the lump in your throat decides to leave for now.

Somehow, persuaded that you and your heart are safe with him.

A/N: i can’t believe i finished this fucking monster. i need sleep. i’m sorry if it’s not super well edited, i did the 33 pages in one go and yeah. also it’s been so long since i wrote actual explicit smut, i have no idea how it turned out. 😳 let me know :)

to anyone who’s made it this far, thank you so, so, so much. you have my infinite gratefulness and i sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

i’m off to sleep, i hope you are having a wonderful day. stay safe, lots of lots of love 💜

#ksmutclub #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #ggukienet #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #bts scenario #bts fanfic #my writing #when posting will stop being so scary lmao

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kittydemon9000 · 3 years

Text

Okay so once again, 3 am thoughts have gifted me with yet another au. It is by no means original but screw it: SmithSwap

The only things I’m switching is their ages, so now Nya is the older one, but it. Gets. Fun.

For specifics, as of the Pilots/S1 Nya is 15 and Kai is 11, because I want bebe kai

Now, prior to Wu showing up, it’s pretty much the same as canon only with roles reversed. Nya mostly runs the shop while Kai is trying to everything he can to make things easier for his big sister, and I mean everything. The only one Nya doesn’t stop him from doing is cooking because Kai is the better chef, though neither can figure out why. Nya also likes to tell Kai stories of their parents since he can’t remember them too well, much to his disappointment.

ANYWAY, Wu shows up, Kai gets upset he’s insulting his sister’s work, then Skulkin show up. Kai does get snatched, much to Nya worry and canon continues.

Okay but also tiny spinoff, it also would’ve been hilarious if Nya still got kidnapped because then when the guys meet Kai they’d be like “who is this sassy lost child?”

So then while Nya’s training, I’m actually going to say what happened when Kai is captured.

You see, a side affect of being really freaking old is that your perception of time changes, specifically how long periods seem shorter. Garmadon decided that because of the prophecy it would be best to snatch the Master of Fire, who he thought would be Ray.

So you can imagine his surprise when his Skulkin bring in a kicking, screaming 11 year old child.

He is, understandably, not happy and very confused.

He sends the Skulkin away and tries his best talking with Kai. Like, as little malice as he can in a gentle voice, and he actually learns a few things. 1) both Ray and Maya went missing years ago, 2) these kids have no idea about anything regarding the Elemental Masters, 3) Kai’s sister has been raising him since their parents went missing, and she’s only four years older than him

Understandably, he is concerned, but also sees this as an opportunity. If he raises the Master of Fire to be loyal to him, then he’ll never want to fulfill his role in the prophecy, thus ensuring his victory. also he really misses lloyd and now when he returns he’ll have two kids!!! how amazing is that

So yeah Kai’s stay in the Underworld isn’t that bad. This Garmadon guy is pretty nice, tells him awesome stories about his parents, teaches him a bunch of things(mostly how to fight), and really just acts like the paternal figure he never had(Garmadad is canon, no matter what form you can fight me on this). The only part that sucks in Samukai, but he’s just a jerk and Garmadon makes sure he’ll never actually do anything to hurt him. He does miss Nya a lot though.

Anyway back with Nya and the guys.

They don’t actually know the exact reason why she was here at the beginning. All they know was that Wu originally left for the Master of Fire and came back with her instead. They know she has a brother, but aren’t quite sure how he falls into it.

They learn her full story the night they’re heading to the Temple of Fire, at which when they’re winding down Zane brings up how she never actually told them how she met Wu.

They are very concerned when they find out the whole story and swear they’ll help her get him back, which is nice.

Then she sees Kai But Actually Garmadon, follows, and bam Sword of Fire time. She isn’t able to fully use it, but she’s able to get a few sparks. However, things then start to take a turn for the worst.

Kai is actually here, very confused why Garmadon’s having him tied to the ceiling, but hey Nya’s here! But then oh no he then realizes that Garmadon is the bad guy, which gets him upset and more then a little betrayed.

Seeing him hurt his sister, the one of raised him, actually has Kai pick up the sword and use his powers. Under normal circumstances, it probably wouldn’t have been bigger than a few sparks, however Kai has his big sister in danger, dealing with the betrayal of an almost father figure, holding the Sword of Fire, and being surrounded by his element.

So yeah. Not that small of a fire.

The guys and Wu are actually able to to witness the truly incredible fire blast he lets out from the camp, put two and two together, and start heading over. Wu didn’t follow Nya…..because plot and was the able to help them fight off the Skulkin.

Anyway, it’s more than enough to dissipate the shadows, however it also wakes up the dragon. Garmadon, who is sort of panicking because That Was Not Supposed To Happen, ends up scooping up an unconscious Kai and the Sword and retreating to the underworld, leaving behind a very pissed Nya and an equally pissed Fire Dragon.

But yeah, Nya deals with the dragon, they get the other ones and head to the Underworld with Wu this time, and he’s actually the reason they’re able to get past all the Skulkin.

But yeah, Samukai gets vaporized and Garmadon about to leave when a feverish Kai makes his way in and begs Garmadon to not do it and that they can fix things.

And Garmadon….actually pauses for a second and you can see the conflict in his eyes before he shakes his head and says “there’s no going back for me” and walks through. Kai then collapses and the end up heading back home.

As for what’s up with Kai, who would’ve guessed tapping into a kind of power you aren’t supposed to have access to yet in a high stress situation would be bad for the body. He has a really bad fever but he’s fine after a few days.

The few month timeskip in between the Pilots and S1 is mostly spent training Kai, so they have quite a bit less free time. However when S1 starts and Kai hears about Lord Garmadon, he actually wants to check it out himself first.

So yeah, he meets Lloyd by himself and it actually doesn’t go that badly. Kai actually buys some candy for them to share and they leave the town, and Kai actually starts talking with him. Eventually the topic comes up about Garmadon and Kai gives a rough basis about how he sort of got kidnapped, and then his work in progress plan of making him good again. Lloyd is completely down with seeing his dad again and says how they could probably get his dads attention if their got their own evil army.

And because they’re both stupid kids, neither of which have had parents before, Kai thinks it’s a great idea.

So yeah. That’s why they find the Serpentine here.

Ofc, it isn’t a right away type thing. It takes them about a month before they find the Hypnobrai Tomb, and Kai just plays off all his time spent out as him having made a friend, which they can’t exactly argue with.

Ofc, canon still happens and when Kai was busy training Lloyd ended up finding the tomb and releasing the Serpentine, and they do their regular Canon Nonsense.

However, Kai is not too happy about the whole Attack Villages things and after a bit comes clean to the ninja about their original plan. They very much aren’t happy, but admit his heart was in the right place and they doubt he’d pull something like this again.

Fast-forward a bit more, Kai is mostly chill with Zane’s “weirdness” and unfortunately stays home when the Hypnobrai burn down the Monestary. It’s only because the dragons were able to get out and protect him that he was still alive. Nya’s actually the one who yells at Zane this time around because again. Kai almost died, but it’s all cool later and they find the Bounty :D

Anyway, Canon again continues. Kai is still really good with the dragons and is a little upset they need to leave. He also gets along really well with Ed and Edna. Then when Lloyd joins Kai is a little….well he doesn’t hate him but he does spend a while avoiding him.

Eventually Nya has enough of their dancing around each other and locks them both in the same room so they can talk it out. Turns out the reason Kai was avoiding him was because Lloyd’s betrayal really hurt since they were supposed to do it to find Garmadon, not hurt people. They have a tearful apology, then Kai learns how much of a jerk the Serpentine were and is like “the next time I see any I’ll protect you, since you’re like my little brother and as a big brother it’s my job to keep you safe”

Now it’s Samurai Time :)

You see, this time around Kai has double reasons for being the Samurai. 1) Yeah, he hates being left behind and wants to be involved but also 2) he wants to keep his big sister and big brothers safe

So yeah, that happens. He does think it’s pretty funny when they keep trying and failing to one up him though.

But then :) He gets captured with Lloyd :)))

So yeah, that sucks but it only gets worse because while Kai was able to “summon” his Samurai Mech, he had to send it off to get the ninja away. So that sucks.

Garmadon eventually shows up to help since the Serpentine stole both his kids, much to Nya’s chagrin.

Then comes the freaking Volcano Scene and this one is from Nya when she rescues Kai, then has to choose between Lloyd or the Fangblade. She ends up unlocking her True Potential by essentially leaving behind all negative feels she had for Lloyd and accepting him under her protection just like she did Kai.

The sheer torrent of water easily cools all the lava and thoroughly soaks them. But hey, even Kai has to admit being wet is better than being burnt alive. Also when the ninja start wondering aloud why the Samurai didn’t help Kai bashfully admits he was the Samurai, and this thoroughly impresses the ninja since Kai is like, 12 at this point.

Uhhhh, S2 isn’t too different. Kai is super happy that the dragons are back and is easily Ultra’s favorite. He isn’t hit with either Garms spell nor the Tomorrows Tea, but is there to comfort Lloyd and says that even though he got hit with some magic stuff Kai is still going to protect him since he’s still his older brother. On the Dark Island Kai is heartbroken Nya got corrupted and swears he’ll help fix her. When Garmadon gets purified Kai looses his shit and gets so excited since let’s goooooo not only is his dad not evil anymore they can go out in public together :DDDD

S3, also not too different. During the whole Love Triangle nonsense Kai’s just sitting there so confused. Also Pixal joins team Kai’s Older Siblings. Him getting captured was just him being at the wrong place wrong time. He has a really fun time time in space though, which was nice.

But uh. Then Zane hecking dies, which hits everyone really hard, especially Kai. Only this time, Nya ends up taking Kai back to Ignacia and opens up the forge again, pretty much cutting all contact with the other ninja, Wu and Garmadon. While it might’ve been boring and lonely, at least in Ignacia they were safe.

Kai is…honestly really miserable, but hides it well. He can barely get up some mornings, but does so anyway since he’s desperately trying to act like things are normal, despite how Nya doesn’t talk very much. He misses the other ninja a lot, even Pixal despite not knowing her for very long, but doesn’t want to tell Nya since again, trying to make things normal again. Nya also doesn’t let him out of the house too often, only really if she’s there to watch him.

This routine goes on for about two months, until Lloyd shows up to try and get everyone back together. And Nya.....Nya doesn’t like that.

She and Lloyd end up having a bit of a passive aggressive argument that is progressively getting louder until Kai just. Snaps.

He yells at them to stop fighting, how they’re acting so horribly and that he wished things could go back to normal, how Zane wouldn’t want this and that he’d be disappointed in them.

The two visibly flinch.

Then Kai realizes exactly what he just said and who he said it to. And he runs.

Nya and Lloyd both spend some time in silence, mulling over what Kai just said because he was right. Zane would hate what’s become of the team and how they separated.

Nya ends up being the one to break the silence, asking Lloyd where and when to meet.

When Kai doesn’t return from the woods, she ends up leaving a note before she leaves, explaining where she’s going and how she’s sorry.

Meanwhile, Kai is having a slight breakdown in a Tree Base he made years ago.

But yeah, fast forward a bit and Kai’s getting ready to sneak onto Chen’s Island, but in a slightly different way than canon. Instead he takes a slightly experimental ship that’s basically a smaller Bounty which he calls the Destiny’s Wish. Think of the comparison like a Car vs a Go Cart. Comfortably, it can fit 2 people long term, but for quick trips can carry as many as 10, but it’ll be a tight fit and the Wish might have some trouble flying.

So yeah, he’s on his own and he doesn’t arrive until a few hours before the EMs all get dropped from the plane. Shade is actually the one to find him first, but has a moment of pause since Literal Child and gives Kai enough time to kick him into a tree and run. The whole chase actually lasts about two hours but unfortunately Kai isn’t able to get back to the Wish and gets caught.

Now for the fun part :)

So all the EMs(and I do mean all because he wanted to “thank them for their contribution”) are in the throne room, their powers snatched, when Chen said aloud “But it is such a shame that we don’t have the Master of Fire, the we’d be able to complete the spell.” and for the briefest second the Ninja Fam are relieved but then Chen does a whole “SIKE, WE GOT HIM” and has some of the guards bring Kai out.

The Ninja are, understandably, freaking out. The EMs kinda are too since Child but only a little bit and it’s not personal

But then just as Chen’s about to snatch his fire, Kai starts saying how Chen cheated since Kai never got to play in a match. Chen refutes it since His Game His Rules but then Kai says that age old statement to get siblings to do Stupid Shit: “What are you, scared?”

Chen is not scared, thank you very much. And you know what, since you’re so confident fine, you now get your own challenge!

So yeah, now Kai has his own challenge.

What is it you might ask?

A vertical obstacle course with a time limit. If Kai doesn’t grab the Jade Blade, the exit closes.

Not that bad you might think. After all, Kai’s been training with the ninja for the past year, he’s probably got this in the bag.

Yeah welllllllll, a little bird told might have told Chen that a certain Master of Fire couldn’t swim.....so he uses Nya’s power to gradually fill up the room and forcing him up.

Surprise surprise, it was rigged against him. I’m talking platforms having false bottoms, ladders being oiled, high pressure water jets to knock him off, the works.

Kai is so close to making it. So close..... but Chen can’t have that happen now can he :)

So yeah, Kai ends up falling in and Nya almost drags all the EMs into the water trying to get him.

Luckily it’s at that moment Lloyd bursts in with Garmadon, frees the EMs and gets Chen’s staff. The EMs bust out and just as Nya’s about to dive in the whole thing starts draining, like an enormous whirlpool.

You see Chen actually thought ahead and realized that “hey, if the kid dies he’ll loose his power” so he made a plan that when Kai was going to fall in, he would use one of the tubes that shot water but in verse and suck him in. Luckily he was able to pull it off before the gem was smashed because if not MMM.

So yeh, Kai is now captured, but still on the island. Skylor reluctantly copies his powers(she got sort of close with Nya and this is the little brother she was gushing about), and Anacondrai happens. However, the two are able to escape, Skylor’s actually able to figure out the Summon Dragon thing, and then they head back to the main group.

Then comes the inevitable question of “how did you get here anyway?” and then Kai shows them The Wish. He actually ends up flying back with Garmadon before all the EMs learn how to Summon Dragon so they can warn people about the ensuing danger.

So yeah, they head out, the Pythor thing happens, canon then Sad because Garm still needs to do the whole sacrifice thing D:

That one hits Lloyd and Kai really hard, but they both use each other for comfort so it isn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

But yeah, this is getting long so tbc for a part 2 :DDD

#Smith swap au #kai #kai smith #nya #nya smith #ninjago #info dump

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kellyvela · 3 years

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Hi! I wanted to ask you something. Jon and Sansa thinking about having children and having domestic life with their respective partners is a strong foreshadowing for jonsa. Then there was Jeyne W who also told Cat that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned. While Robb is dead, it's not sure if jeyne is pregnant. Sansa didn't married to Willas and Jon will not gonna steal Val. Do you think it's foreshadowing something?

Before actually answering your question, I think we can't compare Robb and Jeyne, who willingly married, actively tried to have a baby, and were arguably in love, to Sansa and Willas (they never met, they never married, they weren't in love), and Jon and Val (they never had sex, they never married, they weren't in love).

Also, while having the wish to name their children after their late father and siblings, Sansa couldn't stop thinking about Loras, not Willas; and Jon wished Ygritte were alive so he could marry her instead of Val.

And Loras is a stand in for Jon the same way Ygritte is an stand in for Sansa.

. . .

"A king must have an heir."

Jeyne Westerling told Catelyn that Robb was going to name their firstborn after Ned???

Are you talking about this passage???

"Jeyne," she called after, "there's one more thing Robb needs from you, though he may not know it yet himself. A king must have an heir."

The girl smiled at that. "My mother says the same. She makes a posset for me, herbs and milk and ale, to help make me fertile. I drink it every morning. I told Robb I'm sure to give him twins. An Eddard and a Brandon. He liked that, I think. We . . . we try most every day, my lady. Sometimes twice or more." The girl blushed very prettily. "I'll be with child soon, I promise. I pray to our Mother Above, every night."

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn III

Because it was Jeyne who told Catelyn that she (Jeyne) was sure to give Robb twins to be named Eddard and Brandon, and that she thought Robb liked her idea (Jeyne's idea).

We don't know if Jeyne Westerling was, at some point, pregnant or not.

With all the Tully super fertility references, Jeyne could have been pregnant, but, as you can read in the quote above, her mother Sybell Spicer was giving her an abortifacient all the time, and sadly, that's what happened to Lysa Tully in the past... That's why a guilty Hoster Tully repeats "Tansy" in his sickbed several times, since "Tansy" was an ingredient of the abortifacient that Lysa took all those years ago...

The Lannister not only plotted to kill the King in the North, but also to prevent that said king have an heir... Sybell Spicer and the abortifacient were part of the plot.

And if there was still the slightest chance that Jeyne was pregnant with Robb Stark's heir, the Lannister would not hesitate to kill the unborn child and the mother, if necessary.

Actually, I'm afraid that in the next Book Jeyne Westerling will die anyway...

Now, Robb also used the same phrase "A king must have an heir." while later talking with Catelyn about the North's Succession, and guess who were the ones actively mentioned during that conversation? Any thoughts?

The answering is, a "Lady Lannister" (lol) and a "bastard Snow". Let's see:

"I had hoped to leave Jeyne with child . . . we tried often enough, but I'm not certain . . ."

"It does not always happen the first time." Though it did with you. "Nor even the hundredth. You are very young."

"Young, and a king," he said. "A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her." His mouth tightened. "To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north."

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ."

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”

“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”

“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.”

“Jon would never harm a son of mine.”

“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”

“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa … your own sister, trueborn …”

“… and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.”

“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this … this folly. Do not ask it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

As you can see from the quote above, Robb and Catelyn were pushing to prevent Sansa or Jon from inheriting Winterfell and the North after Robb. For Robb, the problem was that Sansa was "Lady Lannister," and for Catelyn, the problem was that Jon was a bastard "Snow," and a brother of the Night's Watch.

Ironically, Robb ended up losing Winterfell and the North, and it will be precisely Sansa (the Lannister by marriage) and Jon (the bastard Snow) the ones retaking the ancestral seat and all the lands of House Stark, and I suspect they will do it together.

Indeed, Robb and Catelyn's conversation is also very telling because Robb said: "By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her". But since Sansa was married to Tyrion Lannister, Robb had to name another heir, Jon.

Robb's reasoning is a contrast to Jon's reaction to the offer of getting Winterfell and the North. Stannis Baratheon used the same argument (Sansa's marriage to Tyrion Lannister) to convince Jon to accept his offer to become a legitimized Stark and Lord of Winterfell, Stannis even called Sansa “Lady Lannister”, but no matter what, Jon didn’t accept Stannis's offer.

And what was Jon's answer?

“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV

Beautiful, isn't it?

And Jon and Sansa could also produce a new generation of Starks, honoring their late relatives by naming their children Eddard, Robb and Catelyn, the ones that are actually dead, because fortunately Arya, Bran and Rickon are still alive, even if Jon and Sansa believe they are all dead.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII

Be still my beating heart!

. . .

So if you're wondering if the sad fate of Jeyne Westerling and Robb, who had a similar wish to Sansa and Jon's wishes, to name their children after their late father and siblings, could mean something negative for Jon and Sansa in the future. The answer is no.

#anon asks #jonsa

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 13)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Goldenrod

Next Chapter: The More You Know

Next SFW Chapter: Big White Lies

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, specify if you're okay with nsfw posts or not, and please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Chapter 13: Home Sweet Home

That weekend you went back home. It was so refreshing to see everyone. You yelped out with joy as you ran over to your cousin “Hiroki niichaaaan~” You jumped into his arms.

He hugged you tight. “How have you been doin lil sis?”

“Very good! I missed you all so much, especially you Hiroki nii." You pouted up at him.

You caught up with your family, had meals with them, and trained with Hiroki. They were most curious about your soulmate, as you have expected.

“What’s he like? Aren’t people from the big 3 clans so stuck up all the time? Even Satoru is full of himself at times, ey?”, Hiroki asked you with a mouthful of food.

“He isn’t too bad to be honest. He’s a gentleman and sweet with me. Decent man. Just, seems a bit like the private type? I mean… Doesn’t talk much about his family even though we are soulmates. Oh I’ve already talked to him about you guys.” You added.

Hiroki tilted his head, “Ehhh… mysterious huh.”

“Give him time. The Kamo Clan aren’t the most open minded people. They’ll feel you out before allowing you in.” Your dad said.

“Even though I’m his soulmate?!” You exclaimed.

Silence. “We don’t know what they’re thinking so we can’t say for sure.”

◇◇◇

“Heh, you’ve gotten better lil sis,” Hiroki dropped low and thrusted out his spear. You jumped and immediately shifted your stance to land a kick on him. He easily parried and slipped out of your range.

Your family specializes in dealing with reverse cursed techniques aside from the occasional esper. Hiroki was only a semi-grade 1, because he trained his ass off for years.

Now that he’s built, he uses cursed tools to help him fight. A strong 185cm man can definitely handle close combat well. And in terms of healing abilities, he was number 1 in the clan.

It was only the women in your family that were able to inherit psychokinesis for some reason. But usually it only applies to a specific thing. Like how your mom can control plants. And your other aunt does with small metallic items like coins and darts.

Mother approached you after your sparring session. "Does he make you happy my dear?" Your mother asked you. Hiroki drank quietly from his water bottle.

You thought about it. The past few months were not easy but really colorful with Noritoshi. Minus the nagging feeling of him covering up his family affairs from you.

But… "He does. I feel so safe with him ma. Like I do with all of you. He is family to me now. I think I really like him and I trust him with my life." You whispered out.

"Then next time, bring him here. We will gladly welcome him with open arms." Hiroki smiled at you and leaned into your side.

◇◇◇

You went to visit your dead older sister’s grave just before you went back to Kyoto Jujutsu High School.

It was just you and Hiroki. You both cleaned the grave, trimmed the weeds, changed the flowers, burned fresh incense, and said your prayers for Sora. It was such a clear day with barely any clouds. The sky was so blue.

Just like her namesake.

Hiroki left you to give you some privacy, saying that he’ll pick you up in 2 hours.

You took a deep breath. “Sora neechan. It’s been a while. Sorry I couldn’t come to see you as often, because I’m currently a student at Jujutsu High.”

“I met this guy. He … So he is my soulmate. The first time I met him, I thought he was pretty. As I got to know him more, I felt as if there was a reason as to why the heavens chose him for me you know? He is really cool, but so warm and sweet with me. I think I’m a little bit in love with him.” You admitted.

“I’m really scared to lose him. After I lost you, I just… it was hard… I try my best to be cheerful and helpful really. But it gets tiring at times. I’m glad I was able to make a lot of friends who understand the life of a Jujutsu sorcerer at least. I tried to open up to Noritoshi a bit more. But it’s hard because he seems so closed off at times.”

You had mixed feelings, because you promised Noritoshi you would trust him more. That means working on anything that bothers you regarding your relationship with him. But can he accept it if you tell him that you want to know more about his family? He already clearly stated he needs more time.

“Am I being too greedy and hasty Sora? I want to support his clan affairs, even if it's just a tiny bit as his soulmate. He seems so troubled with it all the time. Like he wants to carry the burden all alone. I want to help, but he doesn’t really let me. I don’t know. I wish you were still here with me.”

“Last time I asked him about his parents, he snapped at me. Of course he apologized. … Maybe it’s all just in my head. But I do want to meet his family. Eventually. Though at this rate I have no idea when. Everytime I ask about them he just shuts up.”

“Falling in love is way too hard….”

The wind blew as if to agree with you. The leaves rusted in a circular dance just around the grave. You smiled.

You bid farewell to your family after the weekend. Hiroki hugged you tight and whispered, “I hope it gets better for you and Kamo kun soon enough.”

You looked up at him, “Yeah, thanks bro.”

◇◇◇

You texted Noritoshi and let him know that you were on your way back. He said he was free for the evening and that you could come over to his room.

You knocked on his door with anticipation. You opened the door, “I'm back, Toshi!” He pulled you into a tight hug and closed the door behind you. “I missed you. Come in. How was your family? Sorry I couldn’t go with you again.”

“It’s fine! They’re all okay and excited to meet you next time.” You looked up at him. He looked a bit regretful, “Next time I’ll make sure to properly clear my schedule with my father so I can go meet them okay?”

“Ah, okay.” You both walked over to his table and knelt down on the floor.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while,” you started. Noritoshi looked on intently. “I’ve already told you about my family right? Mom and dad and my other male cousins. Ah, what I didn’t tell you before was… I used to have an older sister. I - uhm. Well she died after being attacked by a curse. I … I hope to bring you to her grave one day.”

Noritoshi’s heart dropped. He pulled you in close. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure she is proud of you. Of course I’ll go with you to see her next time.” He was now highly regretting choosing to do some useless tasks for some of his clan’s elders instead of spending the weekend with you.

You gripped his clothes tighter. “Thank you, that really really means a lot to me.” You started tearing up, but you blinked your tears away.

"Oh! My family and I have gifts for you. I'm not so sure if you'll like it. It's a Coral and gold bracelet. Everyone in my family has one. It's almost like tradition for us, and we believe it to have a layer of protection. I also brought Jade here for you." You presented the bracelet alongside the Dragon carved Jade Pendant hanging on a thick white gold chain.

Noritoshi's eyes widened. The jewelry was stunning and looked expensive. He may have been favoured as the heir to the Kamo clan, but even he didn't own so much expensive jewelry.

He sputtered out “I appreciate it but I can’t take something so expensive and precious-”

“Noritoshiiii,” you whined out loud, making him stop talking. “You don’t want to accept such a precious gift that I picked out for you?” you whined with the largest puppy eyes.

“No, I- I am grateful. Thank you, I’ll accept it.” Noritoshi conceded.

Got him. You grinned madly as he shook his head. “You’re a dangerous one,” he muttered under his breath. “What was that?” you asked him absentmindedly as you worked on unclasping the bracelet to put it around his wrist. “Nothing, nothing at all dearest.”

You narrowed your eyes at him before grabbing his wrist and putting it on for him. It was a perfect fit. You thanked yourself for loving to hold his hand so much that you knew his general hand measurements.

His hands down to his wrists were so pretty. You didn't realize that you were playing with and smiling down at his fingers until he opened up his hand and linked his fingers with yours.

Slowly, carefully. Falling in love with you was the easiest thing Noritoshi had experienced. Now that he had embraced his emotions and tried to open up to you, it was a bit better now.

'Is this what love is? I don't know since it's my first time experiencing it.' Noritoshi wondered to himself.

It was in the smallest of things with you. He loved the way you would call out his name with loving eyes. The way you would always greet him first before the other senpai. The way you give him coffee and kisses on late and cold nights of studying.

The way your hair smells. Your perfume. The way your eyelids flutter shut when he kisses you. The tightening of his chest and shortness of his breath made apparent whenever he was with you.

The way you don't ask for too much from him. Just that he shows his love to you either by his actions or words. The comfort he simply feels when he is beside you.

He really just needed some time, and seeing you around more often really made up for it.

He ticked the inside of your palm which made you shiver and yelp. He laughed out loud at this and pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly.

Staying quiet, you buried your head in his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, and it was faster than you expected. But soon it went back down to a steady rate.

"Your heartbeat is so steady, but mine is always wild around you. Noritoshi I feel kinda embarrassed to be honest." You admitted, fingers curling into his kimono.

He smiled and his heartbeat quickened to match yours. You looked up at him in confusion. "Did you just…" He just leaned down to rub his nose against yours. "I am a blood manipulator. I can manipulate my pulse rate darling." You huffed out a laugh, feeling warm and fuzzy.

"I love you." You said suddenly. He stared in shock at your words. You realized that you said it without intending to. But you didn’t take it back.

"Kamo Noritoshi I'm madly in love with you." It wasn't a sudden realisation of being in love. You slowly fell for him again and again each day.

Noritoshi’s brain short circuited.

Suddenly he was kissing you. Tongue slipping into your mouth and playing with yours and rubbing along the roof of your mouth.

You tried to fight his tongue for dominance, but you ended up surrendering, your back bent back with your face turned up towards him.

You clasped your hands around his neck as he pressed deep kisses against the top of your chest. Your face was flushed as you fell limp against him, gasping out heavy breaths. "I'm not going anywhere angel." Noritoshi whispered against your neck, hands tightening possessively against your waist.

‘Please wait a little longer for me. Until I can confirm that these feelings for you are indeed true love.’ His thoughts went unsaid.

The one thing Noritoshi promised to himself is that he would never lie about his feelings for you. To him, the worst he could do was to confess his love without actually being in love with you.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji #jjk fanfic #fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x oc #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk fic #noritoshi fluff #blood bound #red strings of fate

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fenristheorem · 3 years

Note

Hello!

I was wondering if you could write headcanons for Lance during episode 26? Maybe the most significant moments in the chapter but from his perspective and how he felt

Hello there! This is such an interesting ask! I've always considered what Lance may have been thinking through episode 26, but I honestly never actually thought too deep on it. I hope at some point Beemoov gives us a long conversation between Guardienne and Lance in ANE that talks about his perspective in that episode...

Also, sorry this took so long to write. Tumblr ate this ask a few times and spit it back out (I guess it didn’t taste right lol) so I’ve been inconsistent on when I could work on it. Then I somehow ended up re-writing one specific part of this three times over so I had to figure out how to combine all of that information and edit it properly. And then Tumblr freaked out on me and deleted some recent edits - twice - but fortunately I remembered what I did so it didn’t take too long to re-write it. This may also be the longest headcanon I’ve written so far lol. The ask had one hell of a journey in it’s making but I think I love it even more because of that. 😂

~Below the cut~

Lance's POV in episode 26:

Oh how enthralling it was to have Guardienne on his ship! Not only was she his ticket to escape, and a prized asset - therefore collateral - for the guard, but she knew how to access the dragons. He would find his people by using her knowledge.

He knew she had spirit, but he considered sometimes that perhaps he should have thought a little harder on ways to get her to shut up and obey him. He certainly loved the thrill of banter and having her break her persona of peace for him, but by the Oracle was she irritating sometimes. Of course, he already knew she was also pretty amusing as well, with her wild thought processes and ideas. She could have been a bit friendlier with his kraken though...

He wasn't sure if he was surprised by how blunt Guardienne was at times. He had chosen the site in the forest because of its tactical advantage, but when she revealed her bad experience with that area, he could do nothing but apologize. She wasn’t trying to provoke him or stand in the way of his plans at the moment - it was a bad memory for her - so Lance understood her distress at staying there and didn’t wish to put her in further distress. There was no way that they were moving camp though.

Lance had her show him the island, and he was nearly surprised when she didn't try to escape. His attention was held by the ruins for most of the time; she could have tried to slip away thinking he was distracted. He was also quite surprised when she didn’t try to throw him off the cliff - it was the perfect opportunity, but she didn’t even seem like jumping at the chance.

Later on, when Guardienne talked with his mercenaries late at night, he tried to get a read on her. She seemed so unhappy stuck on the island with him, and yet she was so persistent on talking to his followers. She seemed to hate Lance, and yet she was so determined to understand why others decided to follow him. This sent his head spinning. Was she interested in joining him? Certainly not. Was she just curious? Most likely, but the typical person in her situation makes a point to not talk to those who hold them hostage...

He wakes her early in the morning, eager to find the gateway to his people, but his excitement drops when he realizes that Guardienne is in no mood to help him. She had been promising her resistance for many days, why did he expect any different?

This pissed him off of course; he was so close to finding his people and now he had to find a way to get her to comply. Threatening her didn't work too well, but she decided to lead him somewhere anyways. They go towards the library ruins and she leads him through a dark corridor that opens up into a room of alchemical concoctions, cages, and blood spattered walls before stopping. Lance knows immediately that she’s mislead him.

He turns on her, raw fury bleeding into him and coursing within his bones until he’s sure he’ll kill her. However, out of kindness and mercy, he gives her a second chance to show him to the dragons.

Lance didn’t know what he was expecting really, of course she would deny him again. So he takes her to the cliff to threaten her - and then those closest to her once he realizes she won’t crack. He really didn’t want to do this, he wanted things to go smoothly with little damage done, but more than that; he wanted to talk with his people.

She finally gives in and takes him towards the Door of the Dragons, but he nearly throws himself at her when they step into the library ruins again. However, she leads him a different way this time, and he can feel it in his bones that they’re heading the right way as they get closer.

Finally he witnesses the first monument of his people: the doors to their realm.

There’s a weight that settles on his chest and shoulders - after all these years wondering, searching, fighting to reach his people, he’s finally made it. Suddenly he’s aware of the blood surging through his veins, his breathing sharpens and the door is all he can look at.

He knows he's trembling as he reaches to brush his fingertips across the etchings in the stone doors, and he knows that she sees that as well, but he doesn't pay mind to it. In that moment, all that mattered is that he's finally among his people - the ghosts of them at least.

He snaps himself out of the awe the grand doors put him in, turning to Guardienne and requesting her to show him how the doors open. She does as told - finally - but the doors don't open...

Oh like hell he was going to deal with her shit now that's he's this close to knowing his people. She wasn't an issue before, but now she's standing directly between him and his people.

He turns on her again, his blood burning hot and arctic cold at the same time, but she's already explaining that they repeated the ritual the same way as last time. But perhaps... the moon could be an issue?

He's impatient again - there's no way they can stay on that island until the next full moon. Fortunately he brought a few toys to help...

Some time later, after many different attempts to open the door forcefully - all failed and leaving not even a scratch on the ancient stone - Guardienne comes bolting into the room screeching like a psychopath. As if it weren't bad enough that the doors aren't opening, now he has her to deal with again...

He's irritated but holds himself well - there's still the battering ram that may work.

Of course, Guardienne cuts in again, spitting wrath at him about his people and how much of an idiot he is. He humors her a bit, playing the hurt card (even though some bit of it holds true in some ways), and finding his own amusement when she thinks she actually hurt his feelings. Goodness she can be so adorable to fuck with.

The Draflayels come when night falls, drifting in the air with musical trills. Guardienne has found herself entranced at the beauty, but Lance seeths. How dare these creatures mimic his people? How dare they act as a replacement for the dragons?

She stops him as he goes to cut them down, saying that they'll show them something important. If he weren't so desperate to speak with his people...

He lets her lead him to the cliff, following the vile creatures as Lance glares at them, and they gather in sparkling clusters around them, singing their songs the whole time. Lance tenses his whole body and trembles - what he wouldn't do to get rid of these creatures - but then Guardienne steps into the cloud of Draflayels and begins... dancing?

He relaxes faintly, suddenly taken by surprise and slipping into hesitant curiosity as she twirls with the companions. She was so... happy, and carefree. How could she be this joyful with these useless creatures? Didn't she understand that they exist only from the sacrificial genocide of a grand race?

But she still dances with them, entranced by their harmony and twirls, and he's entranced by her as he watches her, careless and free, reminding him of the days where he was like that.

Wasn't it tiring? To be so cold and hateful for so long?

Didn't he miss the days where he ran free and proud, fighting valiantly alongside his brother?

Pain sparks in his chest as he watches her, his face betraying no emotions but the clawing agony welled in his chest and left him breathless all the same. He did miss it...

The Draflayels disperse and Guardienne backs away - straight into him. She's startled for a moment as she looks into his eyes, but he makes it clear that he's no threat.

As he stares at her, a different emotion stirs within him - a wistful wishing, whispered admiration, ghosts of jealousy and bittersweet knowing. She was so beautiful and happy, and he wanted to have that again as well, but he never could - not with everything he knows now.

Brilliant blue essence swam through the air, and Lance quickly turned his attention to it. A ghost appeared - one of his people - and spoke in a grand, cavernous voice to him. Guardienne - and all he once wished for - forgotten, he stepped forward to pursue his chosen path.

He had to argue to be allowed in sooner, but Lance regretted nothing when he was finally standing in front of the Door to the Dragons again, this time being welcomed in as family. However, he hesitated as he stared into the grand doorway; what information would he find hidden within this realm?

He allowed himself to spare a moment to think about his family... he would avenge them, with every bit of brittle, exhausted energy he had, he would avenge them. His heart twisted as he fell among them. These dragons were family...

Fafnir shows him around, and he keeps an eye on Guardienne the whole time - she could attempt to run away. But he wants her to like the dragons and their realm as well, so he keeps an eye on her for her well-being also. She did help him after all...

He argues with Fafnir much of the time, not understanding why the dragon is so steady and accepting about the destruction of their race. Fafnir is calm the whole time, a stable boulder underneath the rush of icy water that was Lance's opinions and emotions. He seemed so sure that Lance would change his mind about his quest for revenge, and even as Lance argues that, Fafnir still continues to show them around.

Fafnir mentions his mother not too long after, noting the similarities between them, and Lance is taken off guard. What would his mother think of him? What did Fafnir want him to know about his mother? Was it true that they were so similar? Would he be able to meet her ghost?

They continue their tour, and Lance knows immediately when Guardienne becomes uncomfortable as they step into the lava realm. Every change in her body language tells that she feels like she's drowning in heat, so he provides a layer of cooled air for her. Whether or not she wanted to, she provided him with invaluable help and remains invaluable as long as the guard is after him, so he might as well try to make her comfortable with him...

As she recovers and looks around, pride blooms in Lance’s chest. This may be the lava realm, but she had a right to stare in admiration at one of the realms of his people. The glitter in her eyes and awe on her face were enough to tell him that she thinks the world of the strange realm, and curiosity suddenly sparks in Lance. She hasn’t seen firsthand the power of the dragons; him and his brother are the only ones she’s been around enough to witness anything, and his brother doesn’t know how to evoke his abilities... What would she think about Lance’s abilities? Would she stare at him with the same look of awe and curiosity?

Lance dismisses his thoughts and probes Fafnir for information on his parents again - first discovering his father's element - but the ancient ghost hesitates when he begins to speak of Tia. Silence fills the air for only a moment before Lance yells at Fafnir to answer his rest of his question.

An ice dragon...

Fafnir compares him to his mother again, and once again Lance is taken off guard. Was he really that similar to his mother?

Lance begins to dig further into the reasoning for their sacrifice, and this only leads down a long path of arguing between him and Fafnir until the ghost finally snaps. They're brought to another location within their realm and Fafnir begins to question Lance's decision of partnering with the demon. Lance is nearly surprised when Fafnir doesn't ask who it is, but the solid weight of... shame? lands on his chest and shoulders as Fafnir seems to scold him for creating a pact with the demon.

So Fafnir knew about that then...

This shame was short-lived, though, before Lance quickly jumped to defend himself and explain the wrongs done to their kind and the foolish decision they made.

Fafnir eventually snapped and Lance quieted, feeling overwhelming irritation at the ancient dragon’s persistence. There was a rift forming that Lance could feel - an expanse hollowing out between him and Fafnir as he withdrew from Fafnir’s knowledge.

Lance watched as Fafnir created a sphere, faint images flickering within, and he was told to walk into the sphere if he wanted to understand the dragons’ decision. He hesitated, suddenly unsure if he wanted to understand in the first place. What if all of this was for nothing? Why would his people - upheld with such esteem within himself and around Eldarya - purposefully make such a foolish decision if it wasn’t forced?

Guardienne snaps him out of his thoughts and overwhelming anxiety, encouraging him to step into the sphere to find the answers to his questions. He hesitates further, but follows her as she steps into the sphere. Lance knew she was right; he came here to find answers, and Fafnir was giving him answers.

Lance isn’t very interested in where the sphere takes them to - it’s the dark-skinned woman who appears that catches his interest. She was talking to a man, pale skin and hair, and Lance quickly caught on to what he was seeing.

His mother and father...

Shocks freezes him and quivers through his body as his throat constricts. He calls out to them. Was he finally meeting his parents? Would they recognize him? Would he be welcomed home by them?

Fafnir quickly explains that they’re only a memory - that they can’t hear him - and Lance’s emotions collapse in on himself. He wouldn’t be welcomed, they probably wouldn’t know who he is, he was left without a family because of the sacrifice and it will remain like that. Pain and rejection hits him in a crushing wave; he finally met his parents, but they’re not even aware of him.

Regardless, he follows them as they fly off, desperately seeking just another second with them - just another facet of information that he could learn from them.

At the cliff, witnessing his mother’s own temper, Fafnir once again compares him to his mother. Lance retaliates again, not wishing for Fafnir to speak so fondly of him or his mother. He could barely stand the idea of not knowing her, but knowing how similar they are and yet not knowing anything about her bothered him in ways that left a yawning hole in his chest.

He starts to think things over - his people willingly sacrificed themselves, but certainly his mother must have known better! She must have been forced by her people! Fafnir agrees that she didn’t agree to the decision, but claims that she still did so of her own free will. In a thunderous state of denial and anger, Lance turns and storms off. He can’t believe that his own mother just abandoned him to sacrifice herself for a decision she didn’t agree with. It doesn’t make any sense!

Fafnir chases him down and, despite his anger, Lance agrees to keep exploring his mother’s past.

They follow Tia to the doorways within the Dragon Realm, where she talks with Fafnir. As much as Lance wishes to ignore it, he notices that her aggressiveness does mirror his own.

His thoughts wander about his mother for a bit while Guardienne and Fafnir talk, until Lance finally has enough with waiting and interrupts to continue on.

Fafnir takes them to the Council Room now, where they see discussion of the Blue Sacrifice taking place. Many arguments take place until Fafnir finally tells him that Tia kept looking for another solution - to no avail.

He’s silent now as Guardienne and Fafnir talk again. Everything tells him that this was the only solution, that the dragons had to do this, that there was no better way, but he couldn’t accept it. If that was true then everything he did was for nothing... If that was true then there was no need to avenge their deaths because it was their own choice...

A cavern of something similar to dread forms within his chest as he wonders if he set out to wage a pointless war, almost afraid of knowing if this was truth. He couldn’t be in the wrong, right? They were his people, certainly they could have thought of something else... right?

Fafnir calls out to make sure he’s ok before suggesting a break, and Lance finds himself nearly running from the memories - almost regretting learning everything he knows and hoping to leave it all behind alongside the confused assortment of emotions that nearly breaks his sanity. It was so much easier when he thought they didn’t have a choice...

He flees to the old camp area and Guardienne follows before calling out to him, asking if he’s alright. He’s heavily shocked when she explains that she does care about him, despite the assumption that he hates her.

After everything he’s done, why would she care? Does she think this will stop him?

She avoids his conflicted gaze before he turns and walks away. He needed time to think everything over; the sacrifices, his parents, even Guardienne’s sudden change in demeanor towards him. Nothing makes sense to him anymore.

Lance realizes that she's not following him. He turns and asks if she’s coming or not. One would think if she’s so worried about him, she would actually bother to follow him.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, not knowing where he wishes to go, but eventually finds himself at the cliff when Guardienne asks if he’d like to talk. Lance turns on her; he’s not in the mood for her to play false nice with him. He knows she hates him.

Guardienne contradicts that, though, claiming instead that she hates his actions but has faith that he can be good again.

Was she right? Was there some possibility of redemption? Did he even want redemption? What about everything he’s done to get to this point? Was any of it even worth it anymore?

Confused questions flood his mind in tidal waves until he nearly has a headache. Hesitantly, he begins to open up to Guardienne. If there was some chance that she could understand. If there was some chance she could help him understand...

He seeks her opinion on why his mother left him and Valk to the world instead of sacrificing them, and Guardienne explains that it’s normal that a mother would want her children to reap the benefits of her actions. Lance says he would have rather died.

Guardienne pauses at this, surprise flitting over her features and she goes to comfort him, asking why this is all so important for him.

Why is it all so important? He’s so confused, unfamiliar with these doubtful emotions now sweeping through him. Why was any of this important? What does he do now? Is everything he learned really true? Would his people actually be ashamed of him knowing he’s hurt others in their name?

She offers an ear to listen to his troubles, and as much as he doesn’t wish to confide in her, he does so anyways. He doesn’t know what else to do.

Guardienne is quiet as he explains their birth and the village, and he relaxes and allows himself to soften - just a bit. It was... nice to finally have someone to talk to. It’s been so long since someone actually sought to truly understand him...

This calm is broken when he speaks of the kind people who raised them - and Guardienne speaks up to explain that every world will have good people and bad. Lance turns on her in anger; what would she know about good and bad? She hasn’t needed to hide her nature because of others! She hasn’t needed to learn about the sacrifice of her people for the sake of these people! She hasn’t needed to suffer her whole life the way he has!

He explodes in anger, forcing himself to take a moment to cool off as Guardienne watches with a conflicted expression, and then turns back to her to reveal the horror of the Guard and faeries hunting down the dragons who survived the sacrifice.

He’s nearly happy when she reels back in disgust, refusing to believe that the faeries could have done something that terrible, but it was true all the same, no matter how hard she refused to believe it.

Lance turns away again - he needs to know more. He needs to know why him and his brother were abandoned to this world alone.

He manages to track down Fafnir and demands to know why, but the only response he receives is to follow and see for himself. They go back and forth, Fafnir pressuring him to witness the memories again while Lance argues it. He can’t see it again, he couldn’t bear seeing the past through memories...

Guardienne startles him when she lays a hand on his forearm.

Why was she doing that? Why did she care this much? What’s the reason for any of this?

She tells him that he needs to keep exploring his mother’s past if he wants to understand and find his answers, and while he doesn’t want to do that anymore - he can’t possibly do that again - he knows she’s right. It’s the only thing he can do right now in the mess of emotions he’s feeling. Guardienne promises that she’ll stay by his side the whole time, but that doesn’t help as she was probably hoping it would. Why is it comforting that she’s promising to stay by his side - he should be irritated at that thought!

Lance agrees, feeling more lost than ever, and ghosts back to the past memories alongside Fafnir and Guardienne with no further argument.

The Blue Sacrifice was being held soon, countless dragons sprawling across the land and swooping through the sky as Tia talked with Fafnir... about a pregnancy test. She doesn’t want to sacrifice her children with her. Then she speaks of her sons - that she had seen them.

She’s seen him and his brother before, can name their hair and eye color, and she thought they were... beautiful.

Lance watches intently as the memory plays out but he still has questions. She could have stayed with them if she had the choice, why didn’t she stay with them?

Fafnir further explains what happens after that - his mother and father leaving for a while and then returning to carry through with the sacrifice - but Lance’s thoughts are still scattered, and he demands that he sees his parents’ final moments. He needed to see everything in order to believe this...

They return to the pathway where the sacrifice will take place. Many different races are gathered, paying their respects to the dragons, and Fafnir points their attention to another group talking to his mother. Humans.

Lance is subtly shocked; why were they there? And why are they so close with his mother?

Fafnir says that they’re family; his uncle had fallen in love with a human, and Tia was hugging his cousin.

He has humans in his close family!? And they had children... Him and his brother weren’t the only dragons then! But Fafnir explains that they’re weakened due to the dilution of the genetics.

Lance doesn’t know how he feels about this. Was he nearly happy that he had surviving family - even if they were human? Were they really considered human in that case, or dragon? Should he be happy that those humans can’t compare their power to his because of their weakened genetics?

Lance is confused about himself again, shifting into anger at the realization that he’s thinking this only because of what happened; his closest living family is humans, and they’re only alive because they couldn’t have been hunted down by the Eldaryans. Fafnir tries to compare this to Guardienne and speaks of her angel genetics.

An angel?

Lance is truly surprised at this; she’s an angel? He has an angel in his clutches?

Fafnir seems shocked that Lance didn’t know, but the ice dragon is busy turning to Guardienne, many of his other questions now being answered. A wave of painful anger hits him, and he feels... jealous? That demon got to spend every day around this female angel - of course he’d be interested in her; they could attempt a revival of their race!

He had said to much. Lance collapses, pain wracking his body as he heaves for breath and clutches at his chest. The pact they made knew he had said too much. His vision fades into black and the last thing he hears is Fafnir telling Guardienne to help him bring Lance back to the real world...

Lance wakes... alone. Why was he alone? Where was the angel!?

He bolts up, cold burning anger flooding through his veins. After all he said to her! After he explained his past and reasoning for this war! After she promised she would stay by his side! She goes and tries to run away!

He quickly finds her urgently walking around - probably looking for some way off this island - and he approaches her in blind anger as she shrinks in front of him. He was glad, pleased, that she was terrified. She should be scared!

Lance can’t keep himself from yelling as he advances on her and draws his sword. He’s been so nice to her up until now, but that time is now long since passed. She cringes as he raises his sword... and stabs it into the ground next to her. Why did he find himself unable to do this?

Guardienne quickly begins to explain her reason for leaving, but he cuts her off. It doesn’t matter why she left - there was no way he could trust her on any account anymore. Of course she would try to escape, she’s still a hostage. He feels foolish for ever having believed she could possibly care for him.

He grabs her wrist and heads back to find Fafnir, thanking him for sharing his energy to strengthen him again. The ancient ghost asks if he understands everything now, and Lance admits that he doesn’t, but he does realize something important now - family needs to defend and stay with family, so he needs Valk with him.

Before anything else can happen the energy of the islands shifts - he can feel it and he knows Fafnir feels it too.

They have visitors, and it’s the guard.

Time is up, Lance realizes, and he quickly takes hold of Guardienne and drags her with him to the beach shores to find a horrific sight awaiting.

There are many boats sailing towards the island - too many for the kraken to take on. Lance realizes that he needs defense lines and orders Orion and his mercenaries to hold the guard back. He needs to find a good place for them to be found at if the guard gets past his lines.

Hints of panic start to crack his steady thoughts - they’re surrounded with no direct way off this island, and how the hell does he get his brother on his side!?

The angel; the thing they came here for! She’s his bargaining chip!

But she’s intent on not making this easy. She spits bitter truths at him that he doesn’t want to hear but knows it true all the same, and he turns on her to shut her up.

He paces around the island with her as the sounds of the battle rage on at the shore and she kicks at him, unbalancing him and tearing herself away as he regains his balance with pain shooting up his leg. Lance doesn’t let her go very far, though. He evokes his powers, pulling her back to him and snapping at her as he drags her around again, heading towards to cliff.

The roar of the waves is drowned out as Lance scans the cliff with screeching thoughts, finding no coverage and then choosing to place himself with her at the edge of the cliff. There’s nowhere else to hide, nowhere he can set traps for the guard, nowhere he can keep her while he attempts to fight off the guard - or even better; bargain with them for Valkyon. He can only stand here and brace himself.

Finally they arrive, and Lance calls to them to stop when they’re a comfortable distance away, holding Guardienne to the cliff for leverage. They stop, but his brother tries to convince him to let her go. Guardienne calls back, but Lance is tried of hearing her input and quickly shuts her up. This was between him and the guard, and if she convinces them to not worry about her, he’ll lose his bargaining chip.

As soon as everything is silent Lance begins to speak, calling out for his brother to join him - but he resists of course, and offers the opposite instead. Lance explains that the guard will kill him in no time, and his brother quickly gives in after that; choosing to join Lance as long as Guardienne is let go.

Just as he had hoped for.

He’s not even bothered as Guardienne cries out anymore, and lets go of her as soon as Valk asks - but he’s sure to keep her trapped on that ledge with a wall of energy. He knew if he just let her go they would attack him, so he assured his safety by keeping her at risk.

They say their tragic goodbyes and Lance rests a hand on his brother’s shoulder as they walk away, elated at the fact that he has his brother with him now. Things are exactly as they should have been since the beginning of this war.

He can hear Guardienne arguing with the others as they walk away, and when they’re a safe distance he drops the wall... letting it take the cliff she was standing on with it as it crumbled away to submerge into the surging tides below. She was no longer needed and it would be better if she were gone now, or at very least it’ll delay the guard from following him and his brother as they make their escape.

Lance learned many lessons from that journey - many things that were useful, and some that were... complicated, and he intended to use all of this to his advantage.

I hope you like this! I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; this ask went through hell and back from Tumblr in it’s creation process, but I love it even more because of the quirks I encountered.

Thank you for asking!

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #eldarya lance #eldarya origins #eldarya lance origins #eldarya lance headcanons #eldarya episode 26 #fenristheorem writing #askfenris

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ardent-musings · 4 years

Text

Pleasure and Paradise

Murphy McNully Smut

Warning: NSFW 18+, my first attempt at a pretty fluff heavy smut. :)

If anyone asked you to recall the events of the day, your mind would start spinning. If winning your last match as the Caerphilly Catapults’ beater wasn’t enough, then you figured the highlight would be Murphy’s proposal to you in front of the entire stadium. It was wonderful and touching but it was the second happiest moment of your life. The first one had to be when you and Murphy initially got together back at Hogwarts. However, that all changed once you were whisked away to the engagement party that very same day.

After Orion invited you and all your loved ones to his private island for your engagement party, you’d say that would take the cake. Being on a large private island with all of your friends and family was a fairytale. Not only were your friends and professors from Hogwarts in attendance, but also the Weasleys, your father, and Murphy’s family were present for your special day. That alone would have been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Without a second to reconsider your situation, both you and Murphy agreed to marry that day, finding the circumstances already perfect. The details of the bronze and blue decorations and stunning scenery of the island garden were too good to pass up. Everything was what you could ever want, down to the gorgeous baby blue embroidered dress you borrowed from Terra.

The actual ceremony was a fog, all you could remember was sitting in front of Murphy, staring at his huge gorgeous grin and declaring your love to your families and each other as Orion officiated the whole thing. You were eye level with your husband, the way you have always been and will always be.

But now you were seated beside him as you were eating your dinner as official newlyweds. Charlie was dancing with Murphy’s grandmother, not surprising you one bit as the older woman swung around the dragon tamer without a care in the world. She was now your grandmother-in-law. She was family, as was Murphy’s wonderful mother, and the idea of your ever growing family brought a smile to your already overjoyed face.

“What’s on your mind, darling?” Murphy chuckled beside you, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles softly.

He looked so good, his hair was perfectly positioned like it always was, but his gray eyes appeared a touch warmer, maybe it was the setting sun that made it so. Nonetheless, your breath caught at the man that was forever yours.

“I just, this is mine. It’s ours Murph. Can you believe it?”

He stared back at you, a soft smile grew on his face as he leaned in to kiss your neck while a hand rested on your knee beneath the table. By now the punch that Tonks has spiked left you both relaxed and warm, feeling just how exhausting yet exhilarating the whole day had been. Everything went by so quickly, but here, sitting with Murphy with just your attention on him made it all worth it.

“I can, Rising Star,” he hummed as he played with one of your scarlet curls. A bit of your hair had fallen down from its hold after all the dancing and congratulatory hugs. You probably looked a mess, but you knew Murphy would never care. “This, all of this,” he motioned to the collection of both of your loved ones, “we created together. It’s all ours because we worked for it. Not to mention we’re a pretty spectacular pair, love. Let’s be honest, a professional beater who ended her career with a Quidditch World Cup is married to a soon-to-be famous commentator, I’d like to think we’re a power couple. The possibility of us ending up with such a good group of people around us boils down to a handsome 94.3%. Although, that number cou-“

His rambling was cut off by your kiss, giggling as he instantly leaned into you, his thumb grazing your cheek. You adored Murphy’s tangents; however, right now you just wanted his lips on yours. To be entirely honest you wanted more than a kiss but you two being in public surrounded by family members proved that to be difficult. That didn’t stop your hand from dropping onto his leg, lightly gripping it as you continued to kiss him. His eyes widened at your touch, chuckling before countering your move by running his hand higher up your dazzling dress.

“Tell me, love. Wanna play a game of chess tonight? Because I think it’s about time I make a few moves on you.”

Your face dropped at his cheesy joke, finding it adorable and yet equally atrocious. His wiggling brows settled your decision, though.

“I think we could arrange that. But don’t forget, the queen is the most powerful player,” you whispered as your hand continued to trail higher up his leg, growing threateningly closer to his hips. Before you could continue your little ruse, Murphy rolled away from the table in a second, beckoning for you to follow.

“Murph! We can’t just leave everyone, they’ll know what’s up!” “Darling, this is expected of us! What freshly married couple doesn’t fully abandon their wedding early in the night? Let’s be honest, Orion and Terra got to business immediately. With the way they’ve been popping out kids, I’d say there is a 98% chance of them leaving early tonight to make another baby! The other 2% is for something dumb, like a bathroom break. But other than that I can assure you, they didn’t waste any time. Besides everyone is getting plastered. Now let’s roll, McNully!”

Despite being barefoot and relatively sober, your feet could not move faster than Murphy’s quick arms, bringing him closer to the suite Orion and Terra had reserved for you two. You were giggling, holding up your gorgeous dress but almost toppled over Murphy as he suddenly stopped.

“Wait! We have to do this right!”

Murphy reached behind him so you stood in front of him before lifting you up and draping you across his lap. If he couldn’t carry you across the threshold, this was his next best option. Still your arms instinctively raised to his shoulders, holding him close as he brought you into the beautiful room, closing it behind you two.

At the sound of the clicking lock, your hands found their home in his golden hair, tugging at it as you kissed him deeply. As if you’ve never kissed the man before, you just couldn’t get enough of him. His hands held you tight to his chest, his grip holding onto your hips desperately. You took your time with him, lightly scratching at his exposed collarbone as you started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. The hard planes of his chest looked so inviting, the skin slightly bronzed from being out in the sun all day. Your lips traced his neck leaving tiny nips with every breath you took.

With your attention fully on him, you were surprised to find your pale aqua dress had been unzipped and the bodice was hanging dangerously low on your chest. Murphy continued to tug down the now annoying garment, growling as more of your chest was revealed to him. You found the sudden air against you chilling, making you shiver as his lips started biting the swell of your breast as one of his strong hands began kneading the other. His touch was electric, making your head dip back at the sensation of him kitten licking your nipple.

“Checkmate, darling.”

His low chuckle was both lustful and cruel; he enjoyed just how desperate you became as soon as his mouth was on your hot body. And there was no escape as one of his hands moved from your breast down to your waist. But you didn’t want to give into him too easily. You were a beater after all.

So with a shift of your hips, you settled your cunt over his thick thigh and slowly started to grind down on him. That alone wasn’t enough to make Murphy fold, but once your hands started to unbuckle his trousers, you knew he was done for. He grunted in frustration as you pulled him out of his briefs, teasingly rubbing your thumb over the most sensitive part of him. The combination of your writhing hips, your hand on his cock, and your fist in his hair, made Murphy whine against your chest.

“Like I said, the queen is the most powerful,” you breathed against his flushed face as you started to fully pump him, enjoying the way his face contorted at your touch while his eyes darkened.

You kept a consistent rhythm against him, mewling at the perfect friction his leg provided your clit. Leaving the rest of the party was a smart choice, you acknowledged as you bit down on Murphy’s shoulder.

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded from Murphy who did nothing to waste your time.

Tiny nibbles brandished his neck as he worked on the last button of his shirt, revealing his golden taunt skin. Murphy’s gray eyes glowed in the reflection of the ocean waves, looking positively beautiful. Your fist worked faster against him, until you released him without warning. His groan was addicting, but you didn’t want him to cum yet. He had to work for that.

Instead your hips continued to swivel on his lap, pressing your breasts into his face as you rid him even harder. The pressure you were putting on him was pure euphoria for you; however, an ache in Murphy’s hip started flaring up with every grind you made. His face twitched in pain, but he wanted you to get off, so he sped up the process by flicking your clit with his thumb firmly. With a fistful of blonde hair and your teeth digging into his strained shoulders, you came quickly, the feeling causing you to buck even harder on your husband as you rode it out.

When you were able to focus again, you could tell that something was off with Murphy. He was suddenly distracted by something other than you, which was not normal for the man who had been enamored with you since you met so many years ago.

You took Murphy’s strong jaw into your hands, thumbs grazing over his sharp cheekbones, “Is everything okay, love?” “It’s my hip,” he huffed disappointedly. “It’s acting up a bit.”

This happened sometimes with Murphy; having to sit for majority of his hours left his hips and spine temperamental at times. Your need to tease and play with Murphy was replaced with the incorrigible need to make him feel better, in whatever way you could.

With a soft smile, you kissed the tip of his nose, giggling when he scrunched his face at your cute gesture.

“You stay here. Okay, honey?” You asked as you stood up, fully dropping the gorgeous dress to reveal your smooth naked body to your husband. Murphy dropped his head back dramatically at the sight of you leaving him and disappearing into an adjoining room.

“No, babe, come back! We just got married for Merlin’s sake!”

The sound of running water perked the blonde’s ears, suddenly intriguing him as to your intentions. He started rubbing the soft curve of his hip, trying to work out any knots and stress that plagued him. After a few minutes, you came back with a skip in your step which made your husband hone in on the way your chest moved as you did. The view only got better once you leaned over to kiss the shell of his ear.

“Follow me, big guy.”

Murphy followed you happily, enjoying the way you giggled as you led the way into the bathroom. It wasn’t giant, but the sizeable tub in the corner was blasting with jets and scented bubbles. You smiled hazily at the heat that radiated off the surface of the turbulent waves and fixed your hair so it was high up on your head.

The large grin that broke out on your husbands face was gorgeous; he lifted himself out of his chair and onto the step by the tub. You knelt down in front of him to finish pulling off his pants and briefs. He always loved how quick you were to lower yourself to your knees for him, but this was different. Still intimate, but it was done in admiration. Your soft hands curved against the muscle of his calves as you placed kisses to the inside of his knee. Murphy liked seeing this soft yet still confident side to you, he never questioned your ability to be both, but it was stunning to see so clearly. That was until you left a cheeky bite to his inner thigh, making him laugh loudly.

You stepped into the tub slowly, checking the temperature and sighing at the comfortable sting. Murphy placed his legs into the tub before slowly lowering himself into the relaxing bubbles, moaning softly as the jets pounded into his stressed body.

His head was laid back on the lip of the tub with his arms resting on the ceramic beside him. The hot pressure made his eyes close and mouth drop as his chest heaved slightly from the painful and relieving water. He looked heavenly like this, mindlessly accepting pleasure as his joints loosened by the second. You couldn’t help but stare at his plump bottom lip, having the urge to bite it, but that would have to wait.

Having to interrupt this moment made you almost physically ill, but you had a plan and nothing was going to halt it.

Murphy’s eyes peeled open once he felt the water level change, noticing you standing up and leaving the tub. His pupils dilated at the sight of your soapy tits, staring at you like a child watching a fireworks show.

“Scoot up, darling.”

Once again, he followed your orders without much thought, but smirked as you sat behind him. You pulled his back to rest against your chest, loving how from this position you could see the sharp point where his jaw met his neck. He was confused for a moment and lamented the fact he couldn’t see you. However, he preened into your hands when you started massaging shampoo into his golden hair, trying his best to get closer to the scrape of your nails.

Murphy’s low moan sent a wave of pleasure straight down your tummy, making you want to bring out more sounds of desperation and comfort from your husband. You took your time, rubbing all the way from his temples, to the crown of his head, and then down to the nape of his neck. With every new area you treated, he let out tiny low groans, finding the jets and your fingers providing him so much release already.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He laid his freshly rinsed hair on your chest, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your breast.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he started to nip at the underside of your chest, mindlessly giving you attention for his own sake.

“I asked you first.”

Once, again you brought your hands back up to his hair, lightly scratching the strands that now smelled of tea tree and coconut. The water around you wasn’t as turbulent as before; the jets had settled to a gentler roar, allowing your touch to affect Murphy even more.

“You said your hip hurt, so I wanna help,” you kissed his temple as he now started kitten licking your nipple hazily. The feeling of his tongue on you was sweet, he couldn’t help but touch you in some way. His hands shifted beneath the water, grasping at your shins, now fully placing his entire body weight against you.

“I’ll be okay, darling. You don’t have to do anything for it. I can handle it,” Murphy mumbled.

That was one thing you absolutely adored about Murphy; he was always so strong. Would rather suffer in silence and figure things out for himself. He never complained about anything, he just found solutions, no matter how hard and long it took to get there.

His resilience was admirable, but everyone needed to be cared for every now and again. No matter how strong they were.

Your hand shifted to his chin, directing his attention from your chest and forcing him to look you in the eyes. His lids were half closed, already so relaxed from the jets and your scalp massage that he could hardly keep them open. You hummed happily at the absolutely blissed out expression on his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek lovingly.

“I know you can handle it, my love,” you cooed into his ear, “You’ve conquered every battle you’ve ever had to face. And that’s possibly one of the sexiest things about you.”

Murphy chuckled lowly at your compliment, staring at how red your lips were from you biting it so many times. But he was taken aback by how gently you are looking back at him. His eyes locked onto yours, the woman he loved before he even knew what love meant. The person who made him excited to wake up and excited to return home. The reason he was as happy as he was.

You were surprised to see his grey eyes suddenly growing misty, his lip quivered for a moment before he craned his head up to your lips. He took his time, relishing in the way your lips molded to his so perfectly, groaning as your hands trailed down the sides of his shoulders.

“You’re the strongest person I know. I just want to make you feel good. Can you let me do that?”

Murphy felt like he should protest, almost as if accepting your invitation was him admitting he needed help, but if there was anyone he would allow to help him, it was you. He nodded appreciatively, which you responded with a kiss to his jaw.

“Hands on the edge of the tub, baby boy.”

With his arms out of the way, your smooth hands had full reign over the firm curves of your husband’s body. You worked at the knots in his shoulders, your lips tracing the skin that was already massaged. This continued down his arms, and down to his hands. It was slow and tedious loving. Something that Murphy had never truly experienced before; his comfort and his pleasure was the only focus.

This was about reminding him that he is more than his aches and pains. He was being positively worshipped by you, arching into your touch as you worked your hands down his tight back. The muscles between his shoulder blades had been built up wonderfully from all the years he spent using his upper body to move the entirety of him. His head rolled back on your shoulder with a gasp, as you continued to the small bit of his waist, starting to kneed at the sore joint that had been impacted from years of sitting. Murphy’s low moans returned, tickling your ear as his breathing grew heavier the longer you touched him.

Your hands were also reaching a part of him that had been abandoned early on, but you planned on relaxing him before getting back to that portion of the massage. Murphy’s hips bucked as you grazed your nails over his v-line, pressing the pads of your fingertips into the dips of his hipbones and down the tops of his large thighs. You could feel the deep scars that marred his skin; some were silver and faded while others remained just as crimson as the day he got them. They were beautiful. Just a tiny screenshot of where he’s been, and how that path somehow led him to you.

Murphy’s breathing was growing more labored, his arms now held onto your thighs that rested beside his own. He mewled at the way you rubbed at the thick muscle, making sure to get out every inch of discomfort he had ever felt.

From your position, you could no longer reach his calves, the length of your arms wouldn’t allow it. However, there was one part of him that hadn’t gotten the attention it deserved that you could reach.

“I’m going to keep making you feel good, okay baby?”

Murphy sighed at your question, nodding his head eagerly. He didn’t know what you had planned, he just wished to feel your touch again, whatever that meant. However, his eyes rolled back as you gently yet firmly grabbed his cock, finding it hard from your extensive massaging. He practically growled as your ran your hand up his length and nibbled behind his ear.

He was so wound up when he first entered the tub, but now his body could barely hold itself up. The only bit of interaction he could muster was grabbing and lightly scratching your thighs as you played with the tip of his cock slowly. Murphy shuddered, barely able to place kisses on your arm as you brought him closer and closer to his release.

“Please, I just- fuck,” he groaned as you held him tighter, working him at a pace that was torturous but so good, “I need to cum.”

“Then cum,” you giggled into his ear, enjoying how helpless he was beneath your expert grasp. “Do it, love. Cum for me.”

The moment you approved, Murphy’s brows scrunched in pleasure as he found it hard to hold back much longer. His chest was heaving from how intense it all was but with a few final flicks of your wrist, Murphy released with a strangled groan. His grip on your arm was tight, but you worked him through his high, enjoying the way he twitched as he came down.

A large, soft grin spread over Murphy’s face, enjoying the feeling of being held by you. However, the water was starting to grow tepid, causing you to shiver as goosebumps arouse over your now cold skin. Murphy took notice of your shuddering body, so he rotated within the tub until he faced you. Neither of you said a word, just basked in the presence of each other while your hands worked in sync, cleaning off any remnants of sweat or sand from each other. It was sweet as you two serviced one another, making sure both of you were cared for.

After you were clean, you hopped out of the tub to grab your robe as you held Murphy’s chair still. He lifted himself into his seat, noticing how much better his hips felt just from your impromptu massage. You were about to hand him a towel until he winked and speed off into the bedroom, reminding you of how you chased him at the beginning of the night.

Lazy and soft Murphy was replaced by his usual playfulness, the mere thought of your husband waiting for you in the other room made you run behind him. You almost slipped on the wet tile, giggling like a lovesick teenager as he laid spread out on the bed. He held out his hands, making grabby motions at you with a smug grin on his satisfied face.

Once you climbed on top of the bed, you yelped when Murphy forced your hips up over his chest and above his shoulders.

“I still plan on having you properly tonight, Mrs. McNully,” Murphy chuckled as he nipped the inside of your thigh, “but I need something to do before I’m ready to go again.”

Without giving you a moment to protest, Murphy pulled you down to his mouth, practically begging you to fuck his face. His eyes were wild as he groaned against your pussy, enjoying the way you played with your chest as the vibrations shocked your entire body. The silk sheets beneath your knees was luxurious and smooth, which was quite opposite to the way your husband was feasting on you like he’d never tasted you before.

You leaned back, resting your hands on his hard chest as he brought his own up to play with your clit. All the while, his other hand snaked around you, stroking himself in order to get himself ready for you.

As Murphy moaned against your cunt, your grinding into his face grew sloppy as you neared your high. The sight of your boy beneath you with his brows furrowed in concentration did you in. With a loud moan, you came on Murphy’s face, still shaking as he continued to rub your clit until you tore yourself away from his greedy mouth.

Your face felt hot from your orgasm, but your whole body flushed at the sight of Murphy stroking himself in preparation for your first night as husband and wife. Seeing Murphy play with himself was sinful as it was, but his smug smirk was enough for you to replace his hands with your own. He happily allowed you to take over, crossing his arms above his head making his biceps more visible despite the room being only illuminated from the moon.

The cool summer breeze cooled your warm skin, making you want to be ask close to Murphy as possible. After a few more strokes, you straddled his hips, taking a moment to rub at the spot that was once sore. Murphy growled in frustration, all he wanted was to finally have his girl after the chaotic day you both shared, so he gripped the back of your neck and collided your lips together in a playful kiss. You giggled against him, feeling fully comfortable and in your element, your thumb traced the smile lines that surfaced as Murphy beamed at you. They weren’t there before you started dating, and you hoped they formed from the years of laughs and grins you’ve shared.

Flashes of your time together at the commentary box in the early mornings, falling asleep on the Ravenclaw common room couches, and the proposal flooded your mind. And little did you know that Murphy was watching you, thinking of your first coffee date together, getting your father’s blessing while showing him the world of Quidditch, and remembering how elated he felt when you said “I do”.

You could’ve fallen into a rabbit hole, reliving all the wonderful little memories that weaved themselves together which created your love story, but Murphy’s hands at the back of your thighs brought you back to the moment. Without another second of hesitation, you placed a teasing kiss at his Adam’s apple before sinking down on him, enjoying how you full he made you feel.

Murphy choked out a grateful chuckle, finding your rocking silhouette mesmerizing in the glow of the moonlight. Your hair glimmered like warm honey, enjoying the way you took it down from its bun and flipped it over your shoulder. His grey eyes drank in the vision of you, baffled by the mere fact that you fell so in love with each other. Every sigh that left your swollen lips sounded like a symphony, a masterpiece that only he got to hear.

Your skin looked so smooth, making it impossible for Murphy to keep his hands off you. Loud moans escaped you as he massaged your breasts, arching even further into his calloused touch as you bounced on his lap. Murphy loved seeing you taking charge of your pleasure, practically using him for your own needs, but he needed to feel closer to you.

In a second, Murphy turned over so you both laid on your sides, chests pressed against each other so tightly that your hearts started pounding in sync. The new position surprised you but you had not time to question it once Murphy started to pump into you slowly but deeply. He adored when you were grinding on top of him, but nothing was better than getting to hold you tightly as he thoroughly wrecked you until you cried against his neck. All he wanted was to look into your crystal blue eyes as he made love to his new wife and you were in no way going to deny him that opportunity.

You moaned louder once Murphy hooked your leg around his arm and brought it higher up his hip, the new angle allowed him to fill you even more which you didn’t think was possible. The friction was so intense, leaving you helpless as he worked his cock harder into you, gaining more satisfaction as you peppered kisses to his hard chest.

Murphy’s moans turned to low grunts once he felt your cunt tighten around him, both of you moved in perfect messy harmony. Your body’s worked together as they had countless times before. It was mindless glorious fucking, limbs intertwined with one another as teeth grazed the skin and nails scratched every burning itch you two created in one another.

The overwhelming feeling in your core made you whine against him, finding it impossible to hold back your orgasm. Your fingers dug into his soft hair, scratching it as you kissed him tirelessly. Murphy groaned against your lips as he worked hard to get you off; nothing was prettier than you crying in ecstasy from his attention.

He once again twisted your bodies so he was on his back as he pounded into you hard. You cried against him muttering nothing but his name as your arms gave out beneath your shuddering body. His motions were unrelenting, ripping the most intense orgasm from you without warning.

“Cum from me, darling,” you stammered as his hips still continued to rock into you recklessly chasing his own high. “Let me see you. Let me see you cum.”

Murphy groaned at your lustful request while your pussy clenched down on him tighly. But the sight of your tear stained cheeks amidst your satisfied smile was what got him to his end. After a few more thrusts of his hips, Murphy released with a strangled groan, panting hard at the feeling of you around him.

You stayed like that, him still in you as you laid on top of his chest, finding comfort in the thrum oh his heartbeat against your ear. Murphy stroked your hair behind you ear, needing to see how you nuzzled tiredly into his chest. His heart felt like it was going to burst at the vision of you sleepily placing tiny kisses to his collarbone.

It felt like you laid like that for hours, not saying anything, just enjoying the comfort you brought each other. Laying in his arms was nothing short of paradise, and Murphy felt the same. As the cool ocean air chilled the room, you decided to lift yourself off of him to unravel the bedsheet so you both could snuggle beneath the covers.

Without a word, Murphy kissed your nose as he held you tightly against him, finding his entire peace with you by his side. Before you fell asleep, you placed a kiss to the side of his neck before whispering.

“Checkmate.”

@kc-needs-coffee

#murphy mcnully smut #murphy mcnully #hogwarts mystery #coffee and commentary #murphy mcnully fluff

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fireemblems24 · 4 years

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Flame Emperor Reveal Analysis

This game is all over the place with this. This level delivered some of the most intense and emotional moments so far, but doesn’t always capitalize on character development and conflict.

I’m playing all four routes in Fire Emblem Three Houses mostly blind. Below is spoilers for all four routes (which I’m learning the names of now). And for the first it’s actually 4!

Crimson Flower & Silver Snow

I lied. Originally I planned on writing a different analysis for Crimson Flower and Silver Snow, but the build up is the same. Only the fallout is different, and yeah there’s a lot to say about how things played out.

The Black Eagles routes have the biggest advantage for this scene because your main character is the Flame Emperor. It does not hold back. All of your students, sans Edelgard and Hubert, are terrified, confused, and hurt. None of them grasp fully what’s going on when Edelgard takes her mask off and orders her army to kill anyone who stands against her. The voice actors do a fantastic job here: Dorothea, Caspar, Bernadetta, and others sell the mess of emotions the Black Eagles experience, and Edelgard sounds stone-cold and in-command. Her betrayal is the gut-punch it should be.

The level presents a no-win scenario. One of your students is willing to kill you and everyone else you’re supposed to protect, and Rhea is out for blood. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, you lose. It’s a heartbreaking, emotional mess of a situation the writing sets up.

Even prior to all this, the dance between revealing to much or to little about Edelgard’s true intentions is fantastic. Where the Blue Lions basically dumps the answer in your lap and the Golden Deer gives little to no hints at the Flame Emperor’s identity, the Black Eagles is the only route where I do not know if I would’ve guessed correctly or had so few clues that I didn’t bother trying to guess.

Edelgard drops enough hints to guess correctly if you’re looking for them. She always questions Byleth about his thoughts on the Flame Emperor, trying to drive a wedge between the Emperor and the heinous actions the masked knight is involved in. Likewise, Edelgard constantly asks Byleth if he’d pick her over the whole world. She also makes alarming declarations that tow the line between reformer and despot. All of these actions make sense in retrospect - she was fishing to see who would and would not side with her regardless of her actions.

The scene in the Holy Tomb builds up to a crescendo, Edelgard is defeated, and Rhea makes her demand to kill Edelgard. It’s a bit telling Rhea needed to go so extreme in order to make siding with Edelgard believable, but it’s counteracted by the game going as far as making Edelgard an enemy unit who can and will kill her classmates. Both women resort to extremes. Rhea is emotional, hateful, and screaming for blood. Edelgard is cold, calculated, and resorting to using victims of human experimentation to kill her own friends. These are two driven, passionate women exposing their ugliest sides in an emotional scene ripe for fantastic character development and conflict.

And then . . . the wrap-up.

Silver Snow

Should you choose to kill Edelgard, you land in Silver Snow. Rhea’s angry rant against Edelgard is fantastically delivered and makes me anticipate further development from her character. Back in Garreg Mach Monastery, Rhea juxtaposes her earlier scene for a softer one. She implies a willingness to sacrifice her life to protect her home, and asks Byleth to take her role should something happen to her. Rhea’s plan all along was to put Byleth (who is connected to Sothis, who is connected to Rhea, though the details are still unknown to me) in charge. After hearing Rhea call for blood, it’s a sweet scene between Byleth and the archbishop. The problem with it is that every route gets these scenes sans Crimson Flower. It’s two great scenes for Rhea, but not unique to Silver Snow.

And here’s the weird part - there is no unique content for Rhea outside of a few initial lines when choosing to kill Edelgard. Instead, we get the Black Eagles upset and unsure about Edelgard’s actions, a few wondering how much she planned all along and how involved she was in every horrible thing that happened during their school year. It’s necessary, but there’s nothing stand-out in anyone’s dialogue to bring home a real gut-punch.

Seteth gets the best unique content in Silver Snow when he offers the Black Eagles a chance to defect to the Empire should they desire. It’s delivered softly with no threat behind it, showing an earnest desire for the students to feel comfortable even if it means they’re going to turn around and try to slaughter him in thanks. Thankfully, none of the students leave. Cyril and Catherine automatically join your team, and Hilda is now recruitable as well to make up for losing Hubert and Edelgard.

The fall out for choosing to stand against Edelgard is . . . fine. For such a unique event in Fire Emblem (siding against your lord, possibly losing two units you’ve heavily invested in should you not know what’s coming), I expected a bit more drama and flare and a lot more Rhea. However, this is only the start, and it gave what it needed to give.

The stage has been well set. Everyone’s in a no-win situation. Should they lose, they and everyone else in Fodlan will suffer an all-out, dragged-out war. They’ll lose their school and have to fight against their home country (sans Petra) where most of their family and friends live. Killing Edelgard ends the conflict, but she is their former friend, classmate, and rightful leader. She gives them no choice - fight for me or die standing against me. Neither option will leave Byleth and the remaining students wholly satisfied, so I foresee more bittersweet confrontations coming, and I look forward to it.

Crimson Flower

Deciding to protect Edelgard lands you on the Crimson Flower path. I have to say, I’ve read and watched thousands of stories and this one scene stands out among all others.

Never in my life have I ever seen characters react to a situation in a way that makes less sense. Even more baffling is how much potential gets tossed out the window. Stories thrive on conflict and character development and this scene is ripe with potential, but instead of even letting the fruit grow rancid they just . . . act like it never existed.

After Byleth picks to guard Edelgard, Rhea loses it and is ready to tear Byleth to pieces before turning into a dragon. The Black Eagles and Edelgard all run away and, not long after, make it back to Enbarr safely. How they escaped a rampaging dragon or successfully fled Garreg Mach is hand-waved away. This is the kind of hand-waving I can forgive. It’s lazy writing, but it doesn’t really impede the story. What I cannot forgive is the hand-waving that comes next.

Edelgard has a brief scene where she tells her classmates her intentions - she wants to rid Fodlan of the Church of Serios’s control, claims that Rhea and her fellow beasts have secretly ruled humanity and held them back, and is going to declare war. She asks who will join her. Predictably, all of them do - except Flayn. Edelgard mentions that Flayn has opted not to stay with the group.

Hmmm. I wonder why. Could it be Edelgard’s lackey kidnapped and tortured her for a whole month, preparing her for blood experiments at the hands of an evil group of mages who just happen to be Edelgard’s allies? Maybe that had something to do with it. The fact the game presents this is as some magnanimous act is hilarious. I believe Edelgard would let someone like, say Petra, turn away too, but she deserves no “brownie points” for allowing someone who she allowed to get tortured and set-up for a slow death as a human sacrifice to leave and not decide to attack her the home where her father still lives. I think this aspect of Edelgard’s character would’ve hit home significantly harder if someone who wasn’t so throughly victimized by Edelgard’s actions had fled, or you actually saw Flayn leave.

No one asks about the Death Knight. No one asks about Flayn’s kidnapping. No one asks about Kostas attempting to kill students. No one asks about the students kidnapped and experimented on or Remire Village or Jeralt. No one asks where the Crest Beasts Edelgard is using came from. No one asks about the fact she just tried to kill all of them, or what she’s going to do with the Crest Stones. No one even mentions the Flame Emperor. No one questions the history she spilled on them, claiming the church was behind the splitting of Fodlan despite not even having enough knights to guard their own monastery and needed students to help out at events.

I could buy the Black Eagles running away with Edelgard. The scene where Byleth chooses Rhea or Edelgard is highly emotional. Things happen quickly and no one is given much of a chance to process anything. Rhea doesn’t give anyone much of a choice by shifting into a dragon. I wish they didn’t rely so much on “Rhea bad” to make any sense of siding with Edelgard, but it is believable. What I cannot buy is how no one questions anything afterwards.

It’s like the whole cast just forgot the first eleven chapters. No one even mentions the Flame Emperor’s existence. The moment the mask came off, it ceased to exist. Everyone mindlessly believes everything Edelgard says, and no one even asks any questions - not about Rhea, not about the history of Fodlan, not about the Flame Emperor’s actions. Barely anyone bats an eyelash at the idea of attacking their own school and killing former classmates, teachers, and friends. Everyone comes across borderline brainwashed. Did the writers have so little faith in Edelgard’s position they were afraid to even attempt exploring it? Even worse is the strategy meeting is just Edelgard, Hubert, and Byleth - the Black Eagles are no where to be seen. It makes them come across like mindless puppets rather than anyone remotely rational - like pawns arranged on a board required for gameplay reasons than actual characters.

Never in my life have I seen a story throw away so much potential character development and conflict. The situation here is intriguing. Edelgard’s stance is fascinating, but everything falls short when all that’s interesting about it is getting tossed out the window because Rhea is secretly evil and nothing Edelgard did beforehand seems to matter anymore. I am seriously concerned about where this route is heading, because despite the massive potential, it seems like it cares less about that and more about making sure Edelgard looks good rather than complex and interesting, even at the cost of logic, character development, and by turning other interesting characters black so Edelgard has someone she can look better than in comparison rather than standing on her own ideals.

Verdant Wind

Am I correct in assuming the fandom consensus is that Verdant Wind had the least impactful Flame Emperor reveal? Because it did.

Edelgard had little to no presence in Verdant Wind. Outside of pre and post class vs class battle banter, her only scene consisted of interrogating Claude and getting and giving no answers. Claude has no connection to Edelgard and neither does Byleth or any of the Golden Deer. When the mask comes off and it’s her face behind it, there’s no emotional response.

The fallout is equally lackluster. Claude demands answers from Edelgard, which she refuses to answer, and she warps away. Afterwards, things play out the same way they do on every route. And that’s the core issue here. Claude and the Golden Deer bring nothing unique to this scene. Elements of surprise that Edelgard is the Flame Emperor, her willingness to kill all your units to get crest stones, and her declaration of war is there on every route. Claude’s character and goals have had no impact on the plot.

Analyzing this scene has brought to light my main issue with the Verdant Wind route thus far. It’s that Claude and friends have done nothing to move the plot forward. Things just happen; no character is making anything happen. You could argue it’s the same for the Azure Moon route, but Dimitri’s clearly defined goals and emotional connection makes it a streamlined story with a sense of forward progression instead of plot points getting dumped in the player’s lap.

It’s too bad, because Verdant Wind could’ve approached this differently. Instead of Claude getting nothing done and shouting about every relic that showed up, he and Byleth could’ve solved mysteries together a la Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boy. For all of Claude’s questioning everything, very little attention was paid to unmasking the Flame Emperor. Verdant Wind guided its players to look at the wrong mysteries - mysteries that ultimately got no answers while ignoring the one part one was actually about figuring out, and if this was flipped, Verdant Wind would’ve had a much more impactful Flame Emperor reveal.

I will give Verdant Wind major bonus points though. It is nice to see a character question Edelgard about her involvement in things. Dimitri’s too caught up in his Duscur trauma (which I don’t believe Edelgard participated in) and neither Silver Snow and especially Crimson Flower question Edelgard’s actions as the Flame Emperor, but Claude throws at her all the questions I wanted to hear: what about Flayn? What about Jeralt? What about Remire? So congrats Claude, you’re the only character and the only route that’s holding Edelgard actually responsible for her actual actions. If only she was the mystery you were investigating instead of one that went exactly no where for eleven straight chapters.

Azure Moon

What’s interesting here is that the Flame Emperor’s reveal is less about who the mystery person is and more about our protagonist’s, Dimitri’s, reaction to it. And that is core reason behind this scene’s success.

Multiple users on here told me to play chapter eleven of Blue Lions first, and I’m both glad and upset I listened to them. Glad, because they were all right, this route had by far the best Flame Emperor reveal, but sad because it all went downhill from there.

The Crimson Flower/Silver Snow routes should’ve had the best Flame Emperor reveal. After all, those are the routes where Edelgard plays the biggest role, but the follow up to the scene is fairly lackluster, especially in Crimson Flower. Azure Moon, on the other hand, did everything Crimson Flower was afraid to - address the elephant in the room.

Characters in Crimson Flower respond to the situation as if Edelgard didn’t just try to kill all of them, nor do they ask any questions about her actions as the Flame Emperor. Everyone acts as if none of that ever happened, and by not bothering to even mention it, those actions stick out even worse than they would’ve otherwise.

The opposite is true in Azure Moon. Everyone is unnerved by Dimitri’s violent outburst. Felix jumps at the chance to tell everyone, “I told you so.” No one knows what to do about Dimitri, nor do they really have time to process anything with Edelgard’s war machine knocking on their front door. However, this is the base expectation of a story - that characters respond realistically to what happened prior instead of teleporting to some surreal dimension where Edelgard isn’t working with people who perform human experimentation.

So what exactly did Azure Moon do to make this reveal so successful? It utilized the route’s unique aspects: Dimitri’s mental instability and desire for revenge, terrible family history, and emotional connection to Edelgard.

Unlike Verdant Wind, Edelgard has an actual presence and relevance in Azure Moon thanks to her connection to Dimitri. He cares about her like family, which makes her betrayal more personal and automatically more impactful than in Verdant Wind. Even more brilliant here is milking the emotional aspect of what happened. Instead of focusing on “shocking” the reader with Edelgard’s betrayal, it drops hints about her secret identity with all the subtly of a lead brick.

You know what inevitable, dramatic, and tragic outcome is coming. Edelgard, Dimitri’s only remaining family (outside of an uncle he’s on bad terms with), is working hand-in-hand with the people who caused the deaths of his family which led to the genocide of a race of people and the source all of his trauma. Dimitri makes it quite clear he’s out for revenge, and that anything related to Duscur triggers his PTSD so bad it seems like a dissociative or psychotic episode. Azure Moon does not build up a mystery, it builds up an emotional conflict - like watching a train wreck that you know is coming and can’t stop.

And that’s the brilliance of it - this scene isn’t about Edelgard being the Flame Emperor, we already know that, it’s about Dimitri, who this route is about and who the player is emotionally invested in during this version of the story.

Nor does this game disappoint here. There’s no softening anything to try and make Dimitri look “better.” He has a full-on violent breakdown. It’s devastating. He is succumbing fully to his demons after fighting against it over and over while getting tossed into triggering situations ad nauseam and getting no help in return (after all, therapy, medication, hell even the concept of mental illness simply doesn’t exist). All the signs that the route has built up explode in an emotional scene, and probably thee best cut scene so far with some of the best voice acting in Fire Emblem to carry it out. Every plot thread comes to a head: Dimitri’s lust for revenge, his unstable mental health, the mystery of the Flame Emperor’s identity, etc . . .

The upcoming battle has more meaning now. It has what is at steak in the other routes - win or lose and the fear of having to kill former classmates - and more. Because it isn’t just about the battle of Edelgard vs the world, but also the battle for Dimitri’s mental health and for his soul. There’s a bit of a catch-22 here, is Edelgard dying really the best ending? Killing her saves many lives, but at the cost of Dimitri’s mental health? What if she dies and he doesn’t kill her, but what if he does? Would he kill himself now that the dead are avenged? Or what if she lives and this drags on longer? No option is good. There isn’t an easy win button by offing Edelgard or taking over the school. Every possible ending is a bad ending. Your lead character is in the middle of a mental breakdown, and giving into his demons and lust for revenge (which is a separate issue exasperated by ill mental health) and the situation only makes it worse and is to dire to properly let anyone deal with said breakdown. The tension, the drama, the sense of foreboding dread, is all so much more here than in all the other routes.

What makes Azure Moon’s handling of the Flame Emperor so good is that it widely succeeded where the other two routes failed. Verdant Wind didn’t make the reveal relevant to anything Claude was interested in or working towards. Crimson Flower completely and utterly failed to address Edelgard’s actions let alone use that to create compelling tension. Azure Moon did both. It made the Flame Emperor reveal relevant to the route, even made it actually about the main character of the route. Nor is it shying away from conflict and tension, even if it means letting it’s main character fall out of grace and risking the player’s infatuation/admiration/whatever with/of Dimitri by having him succumb to his dark side. Because it’s not protecting him, he’s going to turn out a way better character for it.

I will admit though, that I think playing all four routes impacted this a bit. It didn’t benefit Azure Moon, but I think this route spoiling who the Flame Emperor is hurt the other routes. Verdant Wind might’ve had at least some tiny smudge of an impact because it’s the only route where there’s very little way to correctly guess who the Flame Emperor is - the only one where it may be truly a surprise. Crimson Flower/Silver Snow does make it a bit more obvious, but doesn’t quite spell it out for you the way Azure Moon does. Here, the player kind of has to be looking for it. Obviously though, you can only learn this once, and good writing could’ve made all the routes impactful with very small tweaks - have Verdant Wind actually focus on the mystery that’s solved at the end of Part 1 (who is the Flame Emperor) and actually have characters react to and get answers about Edelgard’s actions. I also think the choice between Silver Snow and Crimson Flower looses its tension when you go into it knowing you’ll pick both. Azure Moon easily had the best reveal, so I want to ultimately thank everyone who told me to do this one first - you were all very, very right.

#fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem 3 houses #fe16 #fe3h #am #cf #ss #vw

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

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Playground Love, Chapter 5: Fireflies and Angel Wings

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Aran Trevelyan/Tristan Trevelyan

Summary:

Aran and Tristan are childhood friends. Best friends. Brothers, almost. They’ve been inseparable since the moment they met, one rainy autumn day underneath the maple tree in the school playground.

Best friends don’t fall in love with each other. Surely not.

The new chapter of mine and @oftachancer’s collaborative fic, featuring her OC Aran and my OC Tristan Trevelyan, is up! Where Aran’s first kiss ever isn’t quite what he expected...

Read more on AO3!

#aran trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #aran x tristan #modern au #friends to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #dragon age fanfiction #playground love #oftachancer writes #johaerys writes

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runtedfiction · 4 years

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Home

A/N: for zutara week day 1! i’ve only watched half of korra so i don’t know what actually happens in canon, only that zutara didn’t 😔

AO3

* * *

Toph is the first to leave. Her final wave is larger than life, her smile brighter than the sun, as she and the Bei Fong security team kickstart their ostrich horses. “See ya later!”

Katara watches her go from the steps of the Jasmine Dragon, laughing and crying.

“And so she sneaks in one last blind joke,” Sokka says, rubbing at his eyes. Suki rubs his back. “Those Bei Fongs better take care of her.”

“It’s ok,” Aang says, also wiping at tears. He slips his hand into Katara’s, a quiet show of affection that she knows everyone notices. “This isn’t where the journey ends!”

“How can you be so sure about that, Aang?” she asks. “Sure, there’s lots of rebuilding to do, but I’m not sure if we can exactly do it together and—”

“We can,” Zuko cuts in. Though it’s been so long, she’s reminded of the first time she saw him in the Jasmine Dragon. But now here he is, hair down and shaggy, the happiest she’s ever seen him.

“Aang and I can’t rebuild the world alone,” he says. A glimmer of hope takes root in her heart. “We’re going to need all your help. Aang and I want to hold annual Summit Weeks for the next three years to fully realize our vision of peace; we would be honored to have all of Team Avatar there.”

“Of course,” Sokka says. “No brainer, I’ll be there.”

“Me too,” says Suki. “The Kyoshi Warriors are honored to serve.”

“I’ll be there too,” Katara echos. So much has changed in the past year, and she wonders what will change in the next. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

* * *

Katara, Aang, and Sokka leave Ba Sing Se for the Southern Water Tribe, and Team Avatar’s first year apart begins.

Katara and Sokka set on rebuilding their home, bringing in new technology and infrastructure. They sit next to their father at council meetings, paving paths of future greatness. Aang sticks around for the first three months before he leaves too to restore the air temples. “Just like you’re building a future here for new generations of waterbenders,” he explains, hand on top of hers, “I’m going to do the same for airbenders. We need our homes back.”

He promises to visit once every few weeks, and Katara sees him off with a kiss. He blushes like he always does, and an overwhelming fondness fills her. Aang may be 113, but he’s 13 in her eyes, giddy to hold her close and call her his.

After he leaves, Katara forgets the rest of the world, only remembering it when Aang comes back full of stories. But one morning a messenger hawk is spotted on the horizon. She drops her scrolls to sprint to it-- Zuko . They haven’t spoken since Ba Sing Se, and she fumbles with the red ribbon around the message, shaking with excitement.

Katara,

I know it’s been a while since you’ve heard from me, and I hope you’re doing well. As always, thank you for doing your part in ending the war. I also don’t know how I can thank you enough for saving my life; every day I’m reminded in some way.

Now that I’m settled in, I want to discuss plans for the new era of peace. For the Southern Water Tribe, this means reparations from the Fire Nation and electing a representative as a point of contact for our interim council. I’m drafting proposals and will be sending them over shortly; please let me know if I should be sending them to you, your father, or Sokka.

Again, I hope you’re doing well. The Summit Week will be a few months from now, and I hope to see you there. Write back soon.

Your friend,

Zuko

P.S. I know this letter may sound stuffy, and I’m Fire Lord now, but some part of me will always be the 16 year old rehearsing “Hello, Zuko here” and hoping for your forgiveness. Also, I hope Sokka’s not offended that I only sent this to you.

Sokka sticks his nose in the air when he reads this. “I am offended.”

“Oh grow up,” Katara says, laughing. “Think about how great it’ll be to see everyone again soon.”

Will Toph be taller, or Zuko’s hair shorter? Will Suki and Ty Lee go to the Summit? And speaking of the Summit, what can she advocate for during it? Katara picks up a pen and begins writing a reply, daydreaming about seeing her friends again in the back of her mind.

* * *

“Twinkle toes, I missed you so much .”

Toph runs towards Appa and gives them all a hug as soon as they land. She’s a bit taller, and behind her is Zuko, hair a bit longer, who joins the hug as soon as Katara pulls him in.

“Where’s Suki?” Sokka asks.

“The Kyoshi Warriors insisted on being private security for the event,” Zuko explains. “But Suki, come on out. Your boyfriend is eager to see you, no one’s looking to kill me here.”

“Suki!” Sokka runs to her as soon she slips out of the shadows, and Katara’s heart fills. Everyone’s together again.

Later that evening, Zuko joins them for dinner in their suite. It’s a curious affair--fire flakes alongside stewed sea prunes, cabbage noodles, and tofu. Sokka eats like a vacuum, and Katara is pleased that Aang has so many choices. She wonders if Zuko did research beforehand.

“I hope you’ve all been briefed on the schedule for the coming week,” Zuko says. “And I know it seems like a lot. But rest assured that every event will lead to an action item on my docket.”

“And,” he continues, “it might be boring. Insufferable, even. But to the world, we’re one of the most important teams guiding things forward.”

“Don’t worry, Zuko, we can do it,” Katara says, and he looks at her with a smile. For the past few months they’ve exchanged letters about rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe (they’ll ask the North for funds too), outlawing bloodbending (Zuko promised to help), and the new name of the four nations.

“The United Republic of Nations,” Aang says, digging into his sweet buns. “I like it.”

* * *

During the recess of The State of Bending talk, Zuko finds Katara and places a hand on her shoulder.

“People like Yakone are the worst,” he says. “But it’s going to be fine, don’t worry.”

“He’s pond scum!” Katara hisses. “I hate people who lie like that. And calling me not only a child but also a coward, with that look in his eye--Aang had to stop me from bloodbending him right there and then.”

“He’s pond scum, yes,” Zuko agrees, “but all you have to do is hear him out and make sure the interim councilmembers hear your arguments. I’ll back you up.”

“I know, I know. But still, pond scum!”

“Yup,” Zuko says, a smile on his face. “He’s cold ashes. We can take him.”

“You’re right.” Katara thinks of the times they followed each other into battle. This is no different; if anything, at least they’re not putting their lives on the line. “Thanks, Zuko.”

“No problem.” His smile grows soft. “And as always, I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

He follows her back into the meeting room where she makes history, her eyes glowing with the conviction she soon becomes famous for.

* * *

Almost two years later, after another Summit Week passes and just before the third one, Zuko sends Katara a letter that begins with It’s official! and ends with a copy of the new legislation outlawing bloodbending.

And in the middle of the Southern Air Temple’s training grounds, Katara jumps and yells with excitement.

Within a minute Aang is by her side, concern in his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes yes yes!” She kisses him on the cheek, and he looks confused. “The Council passed that bloodbending legislation! Oh, Aang, this is so great.”

“Oh yeah--awesome!” He says. “I’m really happy for you!”

“I can’t believe it actually worked,” Katara holds the letter close to her heart. “I can’t believe it!”

“I know, this is so good for you,” Aang says, his voice a bit rushed. “And I’m sorry but—”

“You have to go tend to the Air Acolytes,” Katara says. “I’m not in danger, don’t worry! You can hurry back.”

“Thanks for always understanding,” Aang says, giving her a quick kiss. Then he leaves in a gust of air, and Katara sits on the soft grass, feeling the breeze.

Aang resists political involvement, citing the Avatar’s need for neutrality, so it’s understandable that he isn’t as excited as her. Aang needs to preserve the traditions of the Air Nomads, so it’s understandable that he can’t be with her all the time. Aang is constantly called to stop civil wars or investigate malicious spirits, so it’s understandable that Katara sometimes goes a week without seeing him even if he asked her to live with him for a bit.

Katara understands these things, and yet some part of her yearns for the South Pole, for anywhere that feels like home. She’s acutely aware that Aang’s duty is to the world, and yet some part of her feels so small and alone.

At least there’s this letter. It's confirmation that her work these past few years has been worth it. And if the rumors are true, the nation heads are working on a new permanent council to govern the United Republic of Nations.

The era of peace is being fully realized, and Katara wonders how she can ask for a seat on the council.

A few weeks later, just as she begins writing a letter to ask her father if he could recommend her ( I know I’m barely 18, I know I only have experience with our small tribe, but I know I’m the best person for the job ), a message arrives.

I’ve written to your father to ask him to nominate you for the Southern Water Tribe Representative on the new council, Zuko says. If I could recommend you myself, I would. If he nominates you (and I don’t see why he wouldn’t), prepare to defend that nomination at the upcoming Summit.

Katara nearly cries, and Aang places a hand on top of hers. Even the sun seems to shine brighter; a leaf dances in through the window of the study room.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“Everything’s great,” she says. The thought of potentially moving to Republic City as a councilmember (and thereby leaving Aang’s side for some time) briefly flickers in her mind. “I have some great news.”

* * *

The third and final Summit Week comes, and Katara has the daunting task of defending her nomination in front of the nations’ leaders. Even though this really only means speaking in front of the Earth King and Northern Water Tribe Chief (Aang, Zuko, and her father are also in the room, but do they really count?), this is turned against her.

“Your father, partner, and longtime friend are likely going to vote for your approval. You already have three out of five votes secured. What do you say to people who claim nepotism?”

“With all due respect,” Zuko cuts in, a bit angry, “this question seems unfair, and—”

“It’s ok,” Katara says, voice measured. “People are going to say this. And to that I say that my accomplishments in the Southern Water Tribe, from securing and using reparations funds to build our growing nation to advocating for all waterbenders, not just the men, speaks volumes. I also originated the legislation that’s now in place to outlaw bloodbending. I pushed for these initiatives with the help of the people you just named, but ultimately I did it.”

Zuko smiles. He remembers some old campfire story Sokka told about Sapphire Fire as he watches Katara talk her through every sticky question. She’s going to do great on The Council, no doubt.

She’s already amazing.

* * *

Katara sighs in relief when the nation heads confirm her council seat.

Team Avatar celebrates over dinner. Only it isn’t a private room this time, like it was two years ago--this time around, it’s in the Fire Nation palace, in the biggest hall Katara has ever seen. Everyone invited to Summit Week dines together, the golden walls housing the noisy chatter of the most important people in the world.

Zuko prepared formal clothes for them tailored to their respective traditions, and as always, his quiet attention to detail never fails to amaze her.

“Tonight, we feast!” Sokka says, opening their table’s meal with a toast. “To my sister, who has never failed to be annoying and fight for the things she cares about. The Southern Water Tribe and the world are in debt to you, Councilwoman Katara.”

“To Katara!” Aang says, and everyone follows suit. Their glasses clink together, and Katara feels at home for the first time in a long time.

Toph tells them about all the lies she’s heard today (“People even lie about the kinds of tea they like, how weird is that!”), Suki pretends to chi block Sokka when he steals food off her plate, and Aang and Zuko trade friendly insults about who’s taller.

It’s perfect.

* * *

Dear Zuko,

Thanks so much for your support in nominating me to the council. You beat me to asking my father for his recommendation, and your confidence in me means the world. For what it’s worth, the way you and Aang have been dealing with the newly freed Fire Nation colonies is incredible. The world is lucky to have you both.

Moving to Republic City is going to be tricky, but I’ll be there before the end of month. I hope to see you there not only for my swearing in ceremony, but also for advising sessions. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon. Still kind of surreal!

Speaking of surreal things, I can’t believe you’ve been raising a dragon. On the one mission I was allowed to join Aang on, we found a herd of sky bison; they’re not extinct either! Appa’s babies are going to be so cute.

And finally, speaking of cute things, I’ve attached a painting that an Air Acolyte child did of you. Look--the scar is on the right side.

Your friend,

Katara

* * *

Moving to Republic City is tricky because Aang’s schedule collides with, well, everything.

Katara brings it up one night over dinner. “How is visiting each other going to work?”

“I don’t know,” Aang says. He picks up some silken tofu gently with his chopsticks, careful to not let it split. “This next month the Southern Air Temple is pretty set, but there’s two more to fill with Acolytes. There’s still rumors of civil unrest in the freed colonies. Zuko said he wanted an Air Temple Island next to Republic City, right? Maybe I could stay there?”

“Zuko wants your supervision on it, but the Island might not be ready for construction for another year at least. What if you stayed in the city with me for some time?”

“I don’t know,” Aang says with a sigh. “There’s too much to do, and I think the Eastern Air Temple needs full restoration next to establish a spiritual home. I’m really sorry, I know this is your dream and I’m making it difficult.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry,” Katara says. “You’re the Avatar. You serve the world.”

“I wish I could do more for you too though.” Aang looks remorseful, and Katara places her hand over his. He hesitates, then asks, “Do you--do you think you could ever take a week off and find me?”

Katara pulls her hand back. “What? No. The Council has so much to do, I even just wrote this whole Constitution proposal, and I don’t think that I could just leave for a week without that having serious conseq—”

“Oh, yeah, wait, I really didn’t mean to imply that leaving your job to see me wouldn’t have serious consequences.” Aang grabs her hand, and she appreciates the quick backtrack.

But it still stings. “Our jobs aren’t equally important and that’s ok,” she says, “but we have to figure out a system to see each other. Do you know a rough timeline of what next year would look like for you yet?”

“No,” Aang says, quiet. “Like I said, there’s too much to do. All I know...all I know is that I don’t want to feel like I’m losing you because you’re my forever girl.”

“Aang, you’re not losing me.” A beat passes, and she hesitates. “But forever is--forever is a really long time and I don’t know how to think about that, let’s focus on the next few years maybe--”

“I was trapped in ice for 100 years, Katara!” She can see tears brimming in his eyes, and it’s hard to comfort him when she’s the one doing the hurting. “A few years is nothing. I might have been trapped forever, if not for you or Sokka--I know how precious time is, but also how to wait, and I know I want you in my time.”

“I know that’s what you want,” Katara says, voice soft. And the next words to come out of her mouth are dangerous, something she only thinks when she’s alone. When Aang leaves her with a gust of wind. When she thinks about how the Southern Water Tribe might not even feel like home anymore; Sokka says so much has changed in the last year she’s been gone. “If we can’t see each other for the next few years, I’m not sure what I want.”

Aang is silent, and Katara’s stomach sinks. How could I say that?

But also, her heart soars— thank God I was able to say that.

“I understand,” he finally says. He stands and picks up their empty bowls. “You need to find your way. And for now, that isn’t with me.”

Tears well in her eyes. She nods.

* * *

Katara,

Aang told me what happened. I really hope you’re doing ok. When Mai broke up with me, I was devastated, but I understood that she wanted more out of life than watching other people live it. Not to say that’s what you’re doing, but more that I understood her perspective, much like I’m sure Aang will understand yours. (I realize this is completely unsolicited personal advice advice. Don’t worry, I’ve attached suggested edits to your constitution proposal to this letter.)

But really, if you need anything to get to Republic City, let me know. Druk’s gotten big enough to fly now, and the palaces always have empty rooms ready to receive guests. I can also always make arrangements.

Your Friend,

Zuko

(Aang still insists on dropping her off to Republic City, which Katara knows is his way of saying sorry. When they arrive, trying very hard not to cry, she hugs Aang as tight as she can before sliding off Appa.

“Write often,” she says. “And thank you.”

“I will,” he says. “And I should be thanking you, so don’t worry. I’ll see you later.”

He leaves with a defeated look on his face, and that’s when Katara lets herself cry.)

* * *

Living in Republic City still doesn’t feel real. Katara has never had a place to call her own before, and the idea of this apartment being hers is foreign.

At her swearing in ceremony, Zuko and her father are the only familiar faces in the crowd. Sokka, Toph, and Suki are all home as far as she knows, and Aang is at the Eastern Air Temple. But Zuko and her father bring flowers and words of congratulations, and that’s more than enough.

“Your mother would be so proud,” Hakoda says. “I knew even before you and Zuko sent those letters that you’d be the one for the job.”

“Thanks Dad,” Katara says, holding him tight for a hug. “I wish Mom were here to see this.”

“Me too.”

Next is Zuko, holding a bouquet of fire lilies. “I don’t remember if you like flowers, but I figured they’re a nice formality. Congrats, Councilwoman Katara.”

She holds the flowers and pulls him in close for a hug. “They’re beautiful. Thanks.”

A few weeks later, Katara finishes the first official draft of the United Republic’s Constitution. It’s one thing to read the historical documents that shaped each nation, and another to write them herself. Undeniable rights, government structure, due process--it's all she can think about for weeks.

She sends copies to all her friends, looking for advice. But it’s nice to catch up in the letters too; Suki has moved to the Southern Water Tribe for the time being. Sokka says Master Pakku and Gran Gran are disgustingly in love. Even Aang replies--it’s short and Katara can hear the hurt in his voice, but he’s trying, and that’s all she can ask for.

Zuko is the only person whose feedback she can hear in person. When he’s not advising the greater Council or overseeing construction of Air Temple Island he’s in Katara’s office, dropping off scrolls and occasionally serving tea.

"The Jasmine Dragon’s White Dragon,” Katara says, reading the label on the tin that Zuko carefully measures leaves from. He laughs. “What’s so funny?”

“My uncle once drank something thinking it was white dragon, but it was white jade. And you think it wouldn’t be too bad, but he was covered in rashes for days. Everywhere.”

Katara smiles. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s ok, we figured it out.” Zuko’s eyes have a faraway look, one that Katara often sees in herself. So much has changed in the past five years, but sometimes it’s easy to get lost in thinking about what it was like when the world was ending.

“Anyway,” Zuko says. “I have a free night a month from now, and we should get dinner at this new place I hear is good.”

“Kwong’s Cuisine?”

“Yup, that’s the one!” Zuko clears his throat. “Oh, and, to clarify, other people should come too if they’re free. Like, if Sokka is in town, or Suki, or Toph, or Aang. Although, I guess maybe not Aa—”

“Zuko,” Katara says with a laugh. “It’s fine. Kwong’s Cuisine a month from now sounds great.”

“Ok, sorry. Anyway, the Constitution…”

When he leaves, Katara finds herself smiling. Zuko’s cute when he’s flustered.

* * *

Katara only has one set of clothes fancy enough for Kwong’s, and it’s the set that Zuko gave her at the Summit a year ago.

Zuko notices when she arrives. “Are these the—”

“Yeah,” she says. “I guess it might be a bit embarrassing, but I don’t have much time to go shopping.”

“It’s not embarrassing, and that makes sense.” She takes a seat across from him. “If anything, it’s embarrassing how many robes I have. They have stewed sea prunes here, by the way. ”

“My favorite!”

They order a strange blend of Fire Nation and Water Tribe foods, but to their credit, the wait staff says nothing, only bowing deeply.

Katara refills their tea cups. “Speaking of sea prunes--even at the Summit, four years ago, when you had them served for dinner. How on earth did you remember that Sokka and I liked them?”

“You said it one random night years ago,” Zuko says. “And maybe Sokka said it in his sleep. The night we all came to Ember Island, I think.”

Katara’s impressed. “Wow, you remember that so clearly.”

Zuko nods, and there’s that faraway look in his eyes again. “Everything in the days after I joined Team Avatar and leading up to that final Agni Kai I remember very clearly.”

“Me too.”

Katara places her hand over his, briefly, to pull him back in the present. It seems to work.

“But hey,” she says. “Look where we are now! And to be honest, sometimes what I remember most is how mean I was to you in the beginning.”

What she doesn’t say is what she actually remembers most is Zuko jumping in front of lightning for her.

He laughs. “I remember you threatening to kill me if I ever stepped out of line.”

“Hey, hey,” Katara says. “Again, like I said, look where we are now! A valid point at the time though.”

“I know,” Zuko says. He’s handsome when he smiles too.

A few weeks after Kwong’s, Katara replays the night in her head and steps out of the shower, bending herself dry. Fuck, she thinks. I'm in love with Zuko.

* * *

Katara can’t pinpoint exactly when she started having feelings for Zuko, but now that she’s in the thick of it, it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that when she signs the Constitution, he hands her the pen. When rumors of bloodbending start, he helps her squash illegal training camps. When Toph joins the police force, he’s at her side to welcome her on the steps of City Hall.

“Sugar Queen, Sparky!” Toph opens her arms for a hug and Katara sprints into it. “It’s good to see you.”

“Toph, it’s so good to see you.”

“Orientation starts in a few minutes, so I have to go. But Sparky, that life-changing field trip--I still need it. I expect an itinerary by the end of the week.”

Zuko smiles. “You got it.”

The curious thing about being in love with the Fire Lord is that it’s not the grand things that Katara likes. It’s the small things. The way he always remembers to ask her how she’s doing, or how he sends tins of white dragon tea to her office. Even when she doesn’t see him for a week (Katara knows Zuko must be horribly busy and doesn’t understand how he has the energy to fly to Republic City on a weekly basis), thoughts of him live in her mind.

And so it’s terrifying but also easy after their second dinner at Kwong’s to move in a bit closer than she normally would.

“Thanks for flying me home,” Katara says. “I’m sure Druk wants to go home now too.”

“He doesn’t like the city. It’s too dense for him.” Zuko’s hard to read, as usual, and it’s terrifying to bet their friendship on this, but she knows she has to. “It might be ti—”

She cuts him off to kiss him, and for a second, time stops. But then another second passes, and another, and Katara is pulling back because ok, wow, holy shit was that the wrong thing to do .

But then he pulls her in tighter, kisses her more deeply, and happiness fills Katara the way fire lilies drink in rain after a drought.

“I love you,” he says, arms tight around her waist as he pulls her in for a hug. “I love you, and sometimes it feels like I’ve loved you all my life.”

* * *

Fire Nation summers are unforgivingly hot, and in the last few months of her term as councilwoman, Katara finds herself spending more time in the palace with Zuko.

She’s nominated Sokka to take her place on the United Republic Council, and he and Suki are moving to Republic City next weekend. It’s just in time for the unveiling of Air Temple Island. Aang will be the guest of honor, and Toph his security.

“I don’t think we’ve all been together since the summit four years ago,” Zuko says. They’re feeding the turtleducks at sunset, the only time of day when it finally starts cooling down.

She bends little ripples in the water, and the turtleducklings quack with delight.

“It’ll be great to see everyone again,” Katara says. “And I can’t wait for Sokka to start working so I don’t have to anymore.”

“Have you given more thought to what you want to do once you leave?”

She nods. “Yes, but there’s so much to do. I could train new healers or new waterbenders in the south. I could lobby for special interests like the former colonists. I could travel the world for personal enjoyment. Right now I’m leaning towards going back to the south.”

“That does sound like a lot to think about.”

“I know,” Katara says. “And I once fought with Aang about it, but now I understand. Sometimes it feels like there’s too much to do, and it’s easy to feel like you don’t know where to get started.”

“I have a suggestion,” Zuko says, “if it’s hard to get started. You could stay here, with me.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Stay?”

“Stay,” he says, like it’s simple, obvious even, for Katara to uproot her life and live in the Fire Nation.

To be fair, it wouldn’t be much uprooting. All she has is her apartment in Republic City, and even that doesn’t have many things in it.

“Hmm,” she says. “I never really thought about that.”

Zuko takes her hand, laces her fingers through his. Her heart aches at how gentle it is. “Maybe I’m not suggesting so much as I’m asking. You can split your time between here and the South Pole, even just three to four months out of the year here would be fine.”

“You’d really want me to stay?”

“Of course,” Zuko says. It’s unspoken, but Katara knows there’s the possibility of staying in the Fire Nation permanently down the line. And even more unspoken--she’s only 21, after all--is the possibility of being Fire Lady.

“I’ll take your suggestion,” Katara says, “and much like your letters, I’ll give you a response in five to ten business days.”

He groans and she laughs, kisses him on the cheek.

“Yes,” she says. “I’ll stay.”

* * *

A little more than a decade after Zuko’s coronation, Team Avatar reunites in the Fire Nation for a wedding.

It’s an entire day of ceremonies that marry Water Tribe and Fire Nation tradition. Zuko and Katara kneel in front of the Southern Water Tribe, the Fire Nation, and the spirits to bind their souls in marriage. It feels like the world’s oldest love story (Tui and La, Oma and Shu, Zuko and Katara), and in a way, it is. The brilliant blue of her robes pair nicely with his scarlet red, and the world cheers when they raise their hands together.

The dinner party is the first time of day where Katara can talk to Zuko. She tells him how handsome he looks and how much she loves him. She murmurs these words quickly--in the only break with tradition that day, Katara demanded that they be seated with all their friends and not separately.

She does it so she can look around at the people she loves most. Toph, Sokka, Suki, Aang, Zuko --these are the people who bookend her life.

She’s home.

#zutara #zutara week 2020 #zutara fanfiction

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rochiomaru · 3 years

Text

Writing a story inspired by the song My Demons by Starset. It's basically a string of head cannons that I think about when listening to that particular song.... I think Doffy is cruel, but had a lot of layers underneath that fuel his actions. Just wanted to share.

MY DEMONS

I can’t see anything because the villagers are too cowardly to look us in the eyes. They blindfolded us when they took us from the shack we have been staying in. I can’t see them, but I can hear the violent and hateful words they scream at us.

I can feel the heat of the fire from the villagers burning my skin. The rough stone is digging into my back as I hang against it for, god knows, how many hours now. My arms hurt so much from the ropes that are cutting into flesh. I’m bleeding and aching from countless cuts and bruises all over my body.

Why are they doing this? Why are they so mad at us? We haven’t done anything to any of them. I can hear them yelling about things they said we did, but it’s not true!

I’m crying. Crying for so many things. For the things I lost. My home, my security, my status, my mother… MOTHER!

I can hear my baby brother crying and I want to reach out and save him so much, but I can’t even save myself. I’m so tired of the pain. My stomach hurts from hunger, my body hurts from too many beatings to remember anymore, my heart hurts from missing my moth… I don’t want to think of her anymore.

My head hurts from the emotions and thoughts that constantly swirl and tell me to do things. To get back at them. I was born better than the scum that is doing this to us. Do they not know their place? We were born as gods and they are mere humans! I hate them! I hate my father for doing this to us! He is the one that brought us here. He is the reason my moth… He is the reason she is not here!

I don’t want to hurt anymore…

Suddenly I feel a burning sensation in my stomach, but it is not bad. It almost feels alive. The sound of the vermin is fading into the background as I can hear an electric humming in my ears and I concentrate on the sensation growing within me.

Then a sound breaks through. My brother screams as one of their arrows pierces him. I can no longer control myself and I begin to scream at the filthy garbage. I will kill them all!!! I will paint the walls with their blood and dance on their graves! The feeling within my stomach consumes me and overflows.

I now understand it is power. I can feel it lash out at the villagers, and their angry shouts become screams of terror and pain. It feels so good and I love it!! I delight in their horror. I begin to laugh while the night becomes filled with the smell of blood and sound of death.

************************************************

The next thing I know I can see again, but where am I? Where’s Rosi??? Is he ok? Where are the villagers? I can’t breathe!! All of the pain is gone except for the pain in my chest. I keep gasping for air and just can’t seem to calm myself. I look around and realize that I am in my study, and have been dreaming. I must have dozed off while reading again.

I am covered in sweat and still can’t breathe. I rub my eyes with the palm of my hand and after a couple of seconds realize my glasses are gone! Oh, god! Where are they? No one can see me without them! They’ll know if they see me!

I begin to frantically search for my sunglasses. I knock everything off of the desk and tip over the chair looking for them. No one can know! The thoughts continue to attack my mind until I finally find the glasses where they had fallen under the chase lounge I keep for guests.. I place them back on my face, and only then do I feel as though I can begin to breathe.

I feel my heart begin to slow back to a normal pace and the pain in my chest slowly eases. My head is still filled with the sounds from my dream and I can feel the rage building in my soul again. I realize that I am drowning in my own madness, but I don’t know how to stop the descent.

There are days that I step into my role of god and king that I was born to be. I can close my eyes and remember Mariejois. I have heard the words of “family” members like Trebol and Vergo over the years. I was born better than everyone else. I am destined to be king and am divine.

Though, there are other times as I listen to them and it’s just a facade. I know that my family benefits from me, and I just adore having them close to me. It is these times I have to wonder who is truly pulling the strings among us?

I know that I have imperfections, and should a god be allowed to have any? When I was younger, I would ask Trebol about this and he would tell me not to worry. I know that if he saw my eyes, he would see that I am a monster. Would he still claim I’m divine? Or would he know, as I do, that they are proof of how ugly and imperfect I really am? They are part of why I was cast down from heaven.

The other reason I was thrown into the utter darkness with the vermin of earth is that man I once called my father. I still hate him. Trebol gave me the power to claim vengeance for this betrayal, for the atrocities committed to Roci and me, for my moth…

I still cannot fully bring myself to think of her, or say the word even in my own head…

Once I took my revenge, my beloved brother left me too. I could see the hatred for me in his eyes. Could he not see that I did it for our family? He left me because I killed that man for causing us so much pain. He caused my brother to get hurt and he needed to die! Why couldn’t Rosi understand? Why did Rosi love him more than me? Why didn't Rosi love me?

I blinked a couple of times because the dust in my eyes, I'm sure it's just dust, is making them burn.

It is days like today I think of this and the insanity threatens to swallow me whole. The voices scream in my head for blood and violence and death. However, I know that there are vultures circling and waiting for me to slip. To abandon my true self, so they can pick at the carrion of my soul. They want me to lose my colors, so they can crush me forever and finish the work the villagers started. I know in my heart, if I fully break and lose control, I will die or be killed.

I just want a family. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I want the dreams to stop. I want to be safe, but there is no safety for a monster. I must be a monster, or else why would I be so alone? My “family” says I am divine, but I know the truth.

I pause at that thought, and look at my reflection in the window behind my desk. Only the reflection of the sunglasses look back. Slowly the last of these troubling thoughts fade away until they are locked back into the darkness. I silently hope the dreams stay away, so they can remain sealed forever.

A cruel smile finds its way onto my face as my mind falls into place. I can feel that power rolling in my core again and I turn from the window with my rose colored glasses in place. I take my feathered coat and place it on my royal shoulders before heading out of the study to meet with the executives to discuss business for the day.

I am no longer a Celestial Dragon, nor a broken child. I am now a Heavenly Demon here to bring sweet destruction to the world. I will stand atop of everything and rule with an iron fist, as I was born to do. No one will ever hurt me, or those I love again. If they try, I promise to rain such torment and chaos that the world will be consumed in flames, and I will simply laugh in the pyre.

I am Donquixote Doflamingo, and I am god.

#donquixote doflamingo #my Demons #drabbles #song fic

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madam-whim · 4 years

Text

So I decided to try my hand at actually writing something that is not just a headcanon list and here it is! It’s based on @sweetrolls-and-draugr’s post about bards playing a tamrielic version of Jenny of Oldstones while Sheogorath dances through Cloud Ruler Temple. This is my first attempt at writing fanfic in English, which is not my first language, so there will probably be mistakes. Feel free to point them out so I can fix them! The Dragonborn in this one can be whoever you want them to be, but Sheogorath is based on my own HoK, Arri. Oh, and it also turns out I am utterly hopeless as a bard. You have been warned!

____________________________________________________

Dances Among The Clouds

Winter in Bruma is always an uncomfortable affair. It’s too close to the Jeralls, too close to the bitter cold of Skyrim. The Nords don’t mind all that much – they are used to the harsh climate, but no one else ventures outside unless they have no other choice. This goes for Jovian as well, especially with the blizzard outside not showing any signs of letting up. There are worse fates than being trapped inside a tavern, though. He is a bard after all, even if he’s just playing for the owner’s child at the moment, keeping them distracted from the howling of the wind. Children are so easily scared, he knows, but this one, at least, seems to enjoy his songs.

“What’s this one about?”, they ask from their spot on one of the tables as soon as he starts playing again, brown eyes fixed on his hands. Jovian smiles. They’re good with melodies, and they ask about the song whenever it’s one they don’t recognize. “Well, it’s a sad one”, he replies. “I’m not sure you’ll even like it.” “But you’re going to sing it to me anyway! So tell me!”, they pout. He sighs fondly. “If you insist... I don’t know the whole story myself, you see, because this song is hundreds of years old.” The bard watches their eyes light up with interest. “Really?”, they ask. Jovian nods. “It’s sung in Bruma every year, near the end of Evening Star, because that’s when the lady who inspired it appears. She’s a ghost, I think, of a woman who lost her love. Do you know the ruined temple in the mountains above the city? You can see it on a clear day.” The child nods. “The one where the Blades used to live, right?” “Right”, Jovian says. “That’s where she’s appeared every year ever since the Oblivion Crisis ended.” “What’s an oblivion crisis?”, the child asks. They still seem interested, Jovian notes. That one’s definitely not a future innkeeper. “That’s a very long story, little one. It was a war between us mortals and a Daedric prince, and we won. Maybe I’ll tell you more when you’re a bit older. Anyway, my guess would be that this lady lost someone, and when she died as well, she became a ghost and began haunting the temple. There are several songs like that all over Cyrodiil, you know. The Imperial City has one too, and so does Kvatch.” “That’s a lot of ghosts”, the child says, frowning. “Will you sing that song to me now? Even if it’s sad. I want to hear about the lady.” Jovian smiles. “As you wish, little one.” He picks up his lute and starts playing again.

She dances among the clouds each year Her eyes the color of amber To a song that only she can hear When the closing of gates we remember

In robes of purple and gold she’s dressed Her pain they could not be masking Through day and night she’ll never rest As she pays no mind to time’s passing

And when you ask why she is dancing She’ll say she forgot how to weep And when you ask why she is mourning She’ll say her dearest was not hers to keep

The one that she loved, he haunts her still For every room holds a memory She cannot forget and never will Forevermore she remains lonely

And when you ask why she is dancing She’ll say she forgot how to weep And when you ask why she is mourning She’ll say her dearest was not hers to keep

Oh, if you ask why she is mourning She’ll say the dragon was not hers to keep

Many years later, trying to escape from the mind of a mad emperor, the Dragonborn remembers the song.

Sheogorath started rambling almost as soon as they got here, and then they made the mistake of interrupting him. But they can’t help it, when Sheogorath describes Martin Septim’s sacrifice, him turning into the avatar of Akatosh, as ‘hardly sporting’, so they blurt out “Hardly sporting? He saved Tamriel!” They know they’ve made a mistake right away, and they instantly back away, because Sheogorath is... angry, and changing, and something he wasn’t a moment ago. “Hardly sporting indeed”, he hisses, “Because he didn’t even give me a chance to stop him, and then he was gone and dead and he left me and I died too, but then again, I can’t really die and I wanted to -”

And as Sheogorath’s voice rises, the man fades away, and in his place is a woman in a dress of purple and gold, with red hair and eyes like amber, and she’s staring at the Dragonborn, looking like she wants to cry. But the Dragonborn knows with absolute certainty that she can’t, because she forgot how to cry, is no longer human enough to know how to do it, and they wonder if old Jovian is still alive, and if they’ll ever get to tell him that the ghost wasn’t a ghost at all.

Carefully, they take a step closer to the... Madgod? They’re no longer sure who Sheogorath really is. “I’m sorry”, they whisper, because they’re not sure what else to say. “Truly.” “I can’t even dance anymore”, Sheogorath mutters. “They ruined it. They took Cloud Ruler from me, and now the good memories are fading and I...” She trails off, the anger slowly draining from her, and as the anger fades, so does the woman, and within a few moments, the other Sheogorath returns. “Sorry about that one”, he says, as if nothing had happened. As if the Dragonborn hadn’t just found out what became of the Hero of Kvatch, who was presumed dead after vanishing from the Imperial City, and who is dying, yet cannot die. “She still gets out sometimes”, the Madgod continues. “One of the nastier side effects of someone else being you, I suppose. I wouldn’t speak to poor Sanguine for years because of her, too, can you believe it? Years! Now, where were we?”

The Dragonborn leaves the mind of Pelagius Septim III. with the Wabbajack in hand. They are certain they will never have reason to use it, but if they keep it next to the small shrine to Akatosh they have built in their home, well... nobody needs to know.

#oblivion #my writing #sheogorath #hok arri #martin septim #ldb #and a random bard i just made up because i felt like it #long post

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

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Finding You Always

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Chapter 218: The Splendor of Cibola

As they arrived back at the Jolly Roger, they found the two agents. Unfortunately, Agent Brooks was long dead, but Agent Green was hanging on by a thread, as Eva quickly went to work.

"Can you save her?" Emma asked.

"She's lost too much blood. I can heal the wound, but she needs a transfusion," Eva replied.

"Agent Green...do you know your blood type?" Eva asked. The woman swallowed thickly and rasped an answer.

"B positive," she uttered weakly.

"Aunt Regina...can you use a little magic? I need at least two pints. I can magically infuse it into her," Eva said. Regina summoned what she needed from the hospital back in Storybrooke. Eva used her magic to heal and seal the wound, before magically infusing the blood transfusion into the woman. She felt exhausted when she was finished, but didn't collapse.

"She needs rest and she should be fine then," Eva said. Leo picked the agent up and carried her down to the Captain's quarters to rest.

"I'll get us underway for that island," Killian said, as he took to the helm.

~*~

Snow and David were led up the gangplank of a ship that looked like it was a luxury ocean liner and were relieved to see Bobby waiting there with Dr. LaGuerra, Malina, Thalia, and Johnny.

"Mom! Dad!" he called, as he rushed to them and they hugged him between them, as Queen Omaru boarded as well, with her two elite commanders, Louda and Kiyun.

"Oh baby...did they hurt you?" Snow asked.

"No...they just took some blood and they were analyzing it. And they've figured out the magic cuff thing," Bobby replied, as Snow and David saw the needle marks on his arm and the black cuff on his wrist. Seething, David started toward the sick doctor, but Kiyun held up a glowing blaster.

"Another step and I discharge an electromagnetic pulse from this gun that will incapacitate you for the foreseeable future," he warned. David stopped, glaring at them, as Snow put her hand on his arm.

"Charming no...we need you," she pleaded with him and he reluctantly retreated and slipped his arm around her waist. Dr. LaGuerra smirked smugly and David sent him another glare.

"Keep smirking, Doctor...because next time I get my hands on you and I will…" he warned.

"Next time, I won't be breaking your nose. Next time...it's going to be your neck," he threatened. The Doctor tried to seem unbothered by his threat, but it was clearly making him squirm. David hugged Snow close with one arm, while he put the other one around their son.

"It's going to be okay...the others are still out there," Bobby whispered to them and they both gave him a reassuring smile. He was right and they knew their older children and other family wouldn't be far behind them.

~*~

Flashback

Zeus gazed down over the Earth solemnly. His daughter was in love again and it should have brought him joy. But it didn't, for he knew their love, though true and strong, was cursed to end in tragedy. And there was nothing he could do to stop it or save her the pain.

"At least she is happy again, even if only for a little while," Athena mentioned.

"How can you say that? You know the pain that is ahead of her again," he said in frustration.

"Because of this curse, she cannot recognize that Adonis is identical to Anchises. He feels drawn to her, for he is Anchises reincarnated into a new life that will ultimately be cut short in violence as well," he continued.

"She will be crushed by her grief again and I, the supreme God, can do nothing but watch it all unfold!" he ranted.

"Father…" Athena tried to soothe him.

"We watched her mourn Anchises for almost a thousand years and we will soon watch her mourn Adonis," he said.

"If she had just listened to me and stayed here on Olympus...she wouldn't have to go through this!" he lamented.

"Father...nothing can keep her from her soulmate, not even you," Athena warned.

"She never listens…" he complained and Athena chuckled.

"Wonder where she gets that," the Goddess teased.

"I am in no mood, daughter," he warned.

"If she had just married Hephaestus as I implored her to, then she would have been safe from all this pain," he said.

"Safe and unhappy. I know my baby sister...she will choose happiness a thousand times, even if it's only for a handful of moments in her life," she replied. He sighed.

"I have failed my lovely Dione. She would be horrified if she knew the terrible curse placed upon our daughter and the hardships she has and will endure," he said.

"Dione is always with her in spirit...she will look after her from Elysian as much as she can. She knows her daughter is strong and would never deny her love," Athena reasoned.

"Fine...but remind me again why you encouraged me not to smite that fool Collector, like I did his father, with one of my lightning bolts?" he asked irritably.

"Father...you cannot just smite every mortal that gets your toga in a twist. The mortals already think you're...not very nice," Athena said delicately.

"Ooohhh...that's putting it mildly," Hermes deadpanned, as she appeared.

"Very funny, sister. Any luck?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not. I have searched countless realms for centuries and Eros is nowhere to be found," she replied sadly.

"Damn the Black Fairy...she continues to elude us," Zeus cursed. He felt helpless and that was not something that the supreme God took well at all.

~*~

Prince Adonis bowed to the visiting dignitaries, as they filed by his mother's Throne at another ball. He detested these balls, but as his eyes met Aphrodite's across the room, he didn't mind them so much anymore, since he knew he would spend much of the evening with her in his arms.

His relationship with the Goddess was considered scandalous and the nobility in his mother's court was livid at their courtship. They were protesting it with his mother, stating that they would refuse to accept Aphrodite as his Queen one day, due to her immortal status. He didn't care though and his mother, thankfully, only wanted his happiness.

"Prince Adonis, I am Tao Xang Li, advisor to the Dragon Prince, Esteban Zhu Ling, of the great Dragon Empire," the dark haired man said, as he bowed. Adonis followed suit as a show of respect.

Welcome to my Kingdom...though I must say I am a bit surprised that you've traveled so far," Adonis said.

"Forgive my advisor, but we are simply passing through on our way to the Kingdoms to the west," Esteban replied, as he bowed again.

"Ah...you've heard the rumors about El Dorado. I've heard it is but a myth and possibly not even of this land at all, but another entirely," Adonis said.

"And who, pray-tell, told you that little fairy tale?" another voice questioned.

"I did…" Aphrodite said, as she sided up to her love and he put an arm around her waist, glaring at the brutish man before them. She looked stunning, as usual, in a glittering pink gown.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Uh...forgive him, Goddess. He is but our Navigator and has forgotten his place," Tao hissed.

"Navigator? I am the greatest Navigator in all the realms," he boasted, as he bowed to her.

"Antonio de Mendoza...and may I say, you truly are the Goddess of Beauty," he complimented, as he kissed the back of her hand, which she quickly recoiled.

"But forgive me, Goddess, the rumors of El Dorado being in a land to the west is very credible," he argued.

"Of course," she placated, as she looked at her beloved.

"Gentlemen...if you'll excuse me, I owe my beautiful future Queen a dance," Adonis said, as he led her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.

"So…El Dorado? Are they on a wild goose chase?" he asked.

"According to Hermes...it's real, but they call it Cibola. But yes, they'll never find it without a magic bean to take them to a far off realm, reportedly one where magic as we know it is quite scarce," she replied.

"Sounds like an intriguing place," he mentioned, as he kissed her tenderly.

~*~

"Do you think the Goddess knows the location of El Dorado?" Mendoza wondered.

"It does not matter...she is the daughter of Zeus and if she is not offering us the information, then we do not want to press it," Tao refuted.

"Tao is wise and we will heed this advice. If the rumors are true, then Zeus killed the last mortal that wronged his daughter," Esteban said. But Mendoza's gaze on the Goddess told him that he was not done pressing the issue.

~*~

"I understand that, General, but forcing this issue could be an act of war," Major Donovan argued.

"I am receiving a lot of pressure from the people truly in power in this world and they do not tolerate what they cannot control. They want all your Intel and everything you inherited from the one known as the Collector," the General said sternly.

"And if I cannot or will not deliver that?" Patricia asked.

"Then you will be court-martialed," he threatened, as the line went dead and she pocketed her phone, before going up on deck. She knew keeping her superiors out of this wouldn't be possible for long. She had never had torn loyalties before. She had always been eager and willing to serve her country. But she also knew that there was an underbelly in the world and the country of people that really ran things. People that had no loyalty to anything other than money and power. It was why she had chosen to bring David on board to take on Clayton's underground. Because she knew a lot of them were connected to the powerful bloodlines that actually ran the world.

She had also gotten close to David and his family during the two year curse in Boston and she had grown to care about them. Betraying them and unleashing these people on the United Realms didn't sit well with her. It would be a definite war with certain casualties and the thought of some of these evil people that were pushing the General for this power getting access to magic was unsettling to say the least. They already did terrible things with their money and power. If they got possession of the magic within the United Realms, it could have apocalyptic consequences.

She knew her loyalty with them was already in question and she didn't want to say anything to anyone without Snow and David there. She knew that they might be the only ones that would fully believe her that her loyalty might be swaying toward them and away from her once loved, but now corrupt globalist minded government.

~*~

The General took the video call and stared into the room of about a dozen people. They were not well known or known at all really. But they were all descendants of this world's oldest and most powerful bloodlines. They controlled almost everything that happened in this world. Those well known public figures were mere puppets on strings for those really in control.

They had looked unhappy, which wasn't unusual. Today seemed worse though, but he wasn't surprised. There wasn't much that this elite group didn't know about so when they had found out there had been a secretive town, full of magic and mysterious, gifted people in this country, hidden right under their noses, they were livid to say the least.

"General Mendoza...have you spoken to Major Donovan?" one woman asked. Though he was far from a good man, these people even made him shiver. Most of it was their eyes. While they were human, their eyes were all soulless and empty, filled with disdain and hatred for the masses of people they ruled over and often referred to as cattle. Millions of them could die and none of them would bat an eye or shed a tear. In fact, they would probably celebrate the thinning of the herd.

"I have, Madam Stavros...but she seems reluctant," he reported.

"That's unfortunate…" a man said.

"We must have access to the United Realms," Madam Stavros insisted.

"Major Donovan seems to think that they are not a threat to us," General Mendoza interjected.

"That's because she intends to use them to bring us down and dismantle everything our families have built for over a thousand years!" the man roared.

"Mr. Crane is right…" Madam Stavros agreed in an even tone.

"Do whatever you must to intercept the Major when she returns and take control of that magical family," she added. He had no idea how they expected him to do that, but he didn't dare voice this, as the screen went blank.

"You know...I've taken on the Charmings, as they are affectionately called, and they are formidable," a new voice said. The General turned and found a familiar man standing there.

"You…I've seen you. You attacked the museum a few nights ago," General Mendoza said.

"I am Mephisto...and I can help you with your Charming little problem," he said.

"How?" he asked.

"I can get into the United Realms with my unique abilities and there may be someone that can help us break through the magical barrier protecting it," he replied.

"And what would you want in return?" the General asked.

"Just the locations of the fools you were just talking to. They are the most powerful people in this world and by making them blackhearts...then I will easily control everything in one fell swoop," he replied.

"Blackhearts?" Mendoza asked.

"My minions...they have powers bestowed upon them by me, but they are enslaved to me and would be under my complete control," Mephisto replied.

"I am not privy to their locations...but I can promise to get them into the United Realms, then they might foolishly all come to the same place. I know them...they mean to infiltrate and destroy from within. It's what they do to all countries," Mendoza responded.

"I'll get that barrier down...then we'll proceed," Mephisto agreed, as the deal was struck between them.

~*~

Half Moon Island was within view, as the grand vessel approached the mysterious place. The fog was thick and there was something ominous in the air. In response to their new atmosphere, the chalice began to pulse with energy.

"Yeah...that definitely means something," David mentioned.

"We are close to the gates of Cibola…" the Queen interjected.

"And if we open the gates...what then?" Snow questioned.

"The gold will stabilize our power and we will take our place as true rulers of this world," she said.

"Seriously? That's your plan? The old generic rule the world bit?" Bobby commented with an eye roll.

"We are one of the oldest races in existence, boy. It is our place to rule!" Omaru snapped.

"Someone who thinks they are entitled to rule over others are always unfit to do so," Snow argued.

"You and your husband will open those gates," she ordered, as the ship docked. They were forced to disembark and looked at the mossy jungle before them.

"Where are these gates?" Bobby asked.

"On the other side of the island. Move," Kiyun ordered, as they made their way into the thick jungle.

"We need a plan," David whispered to her.

"If I could get this stupid cuff off, I'd have one," Bobby murmured.

"That has to be part of our plan. We can use the chalice for that, but it is still a risk and that's not a risk your father and I are willing to take with your life, honey," Snow whispered.

"Your mother is right," David agreed, as a bird flew by and landed on Snow's shoulder.

"And...we may not have to," she whispered, as she looked at her husband. He saw the bird and realized exactly what was going on. It meant that Leo was near, which meant the rest of their family was as well. He nodded and squeezed his son's shoulder, as they reached the center of the crescent edge of the island.

"There's another island out there," Snow said.

"Yes and upon that small island are the gates of Cibola. We will take these small boats," the Queen said, indicating the small boats that looked like they were made out of some kind of tightly woven reed.

"Yeah...cause those look stable," Bobby commented, as they were ushered into one of the boats with Kiyun and the Queen, while the others manned the other boats.

~*~

"Man...what's with this fog?" Leo asked, as they arrived on Half Moon island.

"I don't know, but we need to catch up to them quickly. Who knows what will happen once Mom and Dad open those gates," Emma said.

"Are there any animals around?" Summer asked. Leo smiled.

"That's brilliant," he said, smiling at his baby sister, as he whistled. A blue bird emerged from the trees and landed on Leo's finger.

"A blue bird?" JJ asked.

"That's my question...how does a blue bird help us?" Zia asked.

"Leo can speak to all animals, but our Mom can speak to birds. He's going to send a message to Mom," Summer explained.

"Wow...your family is something," JJ said, as he smiled at her.

"In a good way," he assured her, as she smiled in return.

"Find my mother, Snow White, and give her our message," he imported to the tiny creature. It chirped at him, before flying off into the sky to deliver their message.

"Let's get moving...we may not have much time," Rumple said, as they began their trek into the jungle.

"You must be excited…" Eva said to Natalie, as they walked.

"You probably think that's silly," Natalie replied, but Eva shook her head.

"Not at all. It's easy to see that you're passionate about artifacts from other cultures and exploring the findings. I feel the same way about medicine," Eva mentioned. Natalie smiled.

"I guess so...I've been looking for Cibola most of my adult life and it's not really about the gold. It's about the find," she said.

"I get that," Eva said.

"Why are you talking to me?" Natalie asked suspiciously.

"Well...you're my Aunt, aren't you?" Eva replied.

"Uh yeah, I guess, but I'm not sure your Dad wants to claim me as his sister," she said.

"You don't know him like we do. Trust me...family is everything to him. He's going to come around sooner rather than later," Eva promised.

"What makes you think I want him to?" Natalie asked.

"Reading people is something I'm pretty good at and I have a feeling that you secretly think that being a part of a big, warm family might not be so bad," Eva replied, as she was silent and left her new Aunt to ponder those thoughts.

~*~

The liquid boiled in the beakers on the Bunsen burner, as Jekyll worked tirelessly in the lab on various experiments. He was frustrated, because wherever Snow currently was, even his nano surveillance technology didn't have access to it. He didn't like being out of the loop and he could feel the fire in his veins burning at being denied seeing her. He had observed all the events in Boston and even those in South America. But after that, the Jolly Roger disappeared from surveillance in the Pacific Ocean. This mysterious place called Mu was protected, even against his technologies. And he didn't like that at all.

To occupy his time, he worked tirelessly on new creations and lately, he had been studying the footage of the battle in Seattle. He had become recently fascinated with the star gems that the Charmings were in possession of. He had done much research and had stolen the book on star gems from Rose's library.

There was a soft sobbing that caught his attention, as his captive was awake at last.

"Ah...you're awake," he said, as he approached her.

"What...what are you going to do to me?" the dark haired woman asked.

"Oh...this is nothing personal, just an experiment. We had a lot of fun, but you were always a pale substitute for the real thing," he replied.

"You paid for my services...and I did what you wanted," she said.

"Yes...you paid the part in my little fantasy, but it was very unsatisfying. I should have known that a whore could never capture the magnificence of the real Snow White though. Some dark hair and red lipstick is hardly enough to be convincing," he replied.

"Fine...just let me go. You can even have your money back," she offered.

"Oh this was never just about sex. You're pretty enough, but hardly the vision that Snow White is. You took the edge off, but also made me realize that nothing but the real article will do for me," he hissed in her ear.

"However, all is not lost, because I have use for you in an experiment," he said, as a machine whined to life and she screamed, as he flipped a switch. A laser went into her chest and burned through her skin, as she wailed in excruciating pain. There was a glow, as the machine did it's part and her star gem floated in front of her dead body. His machine had extracted the gem from her heart, but in the process, burned her heart up.

"So...this is what makes the hearts of people from Misthaven glow when they are extracted," he said curiously. In his reading, he had discovered that all persons from magical realms had these gems within their hearts. But like this gem, most were powerless and insignificant. But the Charmings...they possessed magical ones that could be weaponized. However, his method of extraction would have to be improved.

He used a pair of pliers to carefully take the star gem and put it inside a case for later study.

"I see you're hard at work, as usual, doctor," Mephisto observed, as he slithered into his lab.

"Ah…I see you have obtained a new skin suit. It's as ugly as the last one," Jekyll commented. Mephisto chuckled.

"You're nothing to look at either, doctor. Just ask Snow White...you disgust her," he jabbed.

"What do you want?" Jekyll snapped.

"I have severed my connection to you and kept the power you bestowed upon me. I am not beholden to you," the doctor said.

"Yes…I'll admit, that angered me at first. None of my dark hearts have ever broken free of my control before. It is impressive," he complimented. Jekyll smirked.

"Complimenting me? That means you need my help," he goaded.

"There is a barrier around the United Realms. I want you to use your talents to find a way to nullify it," he said.

"That barrier was created by the Chalice...that won't be easy. It might actually be impossible," Jekyll countered.

"Oh, but not for you, Doctor. I've seen your work," Mephisto said.

"What's in it for me?" Jekyll asked.

"It's a long game...but in the end, Snow White will be in your grasp," Mephisto promised.

"I will see what I can do," Jekyll replied, as he looked at her image, which he kept upon the wall of his lab.

~*~

Flashback

A tear slipped down Adonis' cheek, as he lay flowers on his mother's coffin. The Queen had died in her sleep and the healers had determined that her heart had given out in her advanced age. The Kingdom mourned and Aphrodite was beside her beloved in every moment.

"I knew this would come someday...but I'm not ready for it. I'm not ready to be King," he lamented sadly.

"I know, my love...no one is ever ready to lose someone they love. But I know that you will be a wonderful King," Aphrodite promised.

"Sire...the scribes are here," one of the servants announced. He nodded.

"Of course," he said, as they approached.

"King Adonis...I am Aesop and have come to record your mother's story for the Archives at the library of Andresia," he said, as he bowed deeply.

"These are my assistants...the Grimm brothers," he introduced, as the pair bowed as well.

"Thank you...I trust you'll do justice to my mother's history," he said.

"We only hope that someday we can be permitted to record your extraordinary story as well, Your Majesty, and your courtship of the Goddess Aphrodite. You are the envy of many men in all the lands," one of the Grimms stated.

"Jacob...that is inappropriate," Aesop hissed, but Adonis put his hand up.

"It's okay, Aesop...I am never one to miss an opportunity to tell someone how much I love my future Queen or how beautiful she is," he said, as he kissed her cheek.

"If you'll excuse us," he said, as they walked away arm in arm. She leaned her head against his arm and they were unaware of the Queen's court's disapproving eye upon them.

~*~

They arrived at the massive, golden colored gates, which were adorned with a giant depiction of the sun on them.

"At last...we will finally have everything we need. Open them," Omaru ordered.

"I'm getting really tired of these people," David grumbled, as they joined hands and approached the gates, while Bobby held Snow's hand and went with them. The chalice glowed in response to the proximity of the gates and a pulse of power washed over the giant doors. They glowed brightly, blinding everyone present, as they opened. The sight before them was truly stunning, as an expanse city made entirely of gold was before them. The structures were reminiscent of the pyramids commonly found that had been left behind by ancient civilizations such as the Incas and Mayans. Even the streets were paved in gold and in the center was a very tall tower, glowing like a beacon and the chalice seemed to glow with it.

"Fine...you have your gold. Now you'll let us go," David said.

"That will not be the case, Your Highness. The gold will provide the energy we needed, but it is in conjunction with the chalice that will stabilize our reactor. That means you and your wife will remain our prisoners indefinitely and you will use it to do our bidding," Omaru responded.

"There's no way in hell that's happening," Regina said, as they arrived, encased in one of Summer's bubbles, bypassing the need for a boat.

"Guess we'll see about that," Johnny said, as he stepped forward, armed with his steel skin device. But Summer was ready for him and encased him in a bubble. Regina smirked, as he started beating against the bubble with his steel skin in an attempt to break through. Regina sided up to Summer and put a hand on her shoulder. She released a fireball and gave the bubble an extra layer of protection.

"The only place you're going, Junior, is a lovely cell in the United Realms prison," she said, as Emma dueled Kiyun and Leo fought Louda.

"Stop them!" Omaru ordered, as Killian used his hook to release Bobby from his magical cuff.

"Thanks," Bobby said.

"NO!" Omaru cried, as the power pulsed from the youngest Charming and the ground beneath her was unearthed. Seeing that the control was shifting, not unsurprisingly, Dr. LaGuerra and Malina tried to make a run for it back to the boats, but suddenly felt themselves frozen in place.

"We have prison cells for you too," Rumple said. Bobby raised his hands and vines emerged from the ground, trapping them effectively. Snow stepped forward and punched the doctor right in the mouth.

"Ow! You broke my tooth!" he cried, as blood leaked from his mouth.

"That's for putting needles in one of my babies," she hissed.

Kiyun and Louda stood ready with their army and motioned for them to attack. David joined Emma and Leo, as they charged them. They were outnumbered, but ready for the attack this time. David unleashed the full power of the chalice sword and with two expert swipes, he decimated most of their army. The pure power hit the soldiers and disintegrated them. He didn't like using such devastating power, but he had learned a lot from his darker half. These people had nothing but evil in their hearts and were a very real and direct threat to Snow and his children. And he was done letting people like that get a pass.

Louda sparred vigorously with Leo and managed to get a hand around his neck. She smirked deviously, as she squeezed and he began to choke.

"I'd snap your neck with ease, young one. You're just lucky that our Queen has need of your magical blood," she hissed, but then dropped him, as his body became alive with electricity. He shocked her and the force of the attack threw her into a tree. Rumple waved his hand and binding appeared on her as well.

"Down to one it seems," he said, as Emma dueled Kiyun furiously.

"We have waited too long for this moment! We are on the edge of greatness and not even you will stop us, Savior!" he claimed.

"Look around genius...we've already won," she replied, as their blades clashed.

"Your family has many adversaries...and is still haunted by demons," he said.

"If you're trying to get into my head, then forget it," Emma replied dismissively, as she matched him move for move.

"True love has saved your family...but far too many have designs on all of you, especially your parents. Those demons won't go away...they already plague your mother in the form of panic attacks," he goaded.

"There is nothing that my parents can't handle, because they have each other. My parents are none of your concern," Emma growled.

"Oh, but they are. Among many things, my Queen is a seer. She foretold the demise of the Dragon Queen and her King," he claimed.

"She warned her...but they did not heed her warning and then suffered the consequences," he continued.

"Yeah...screw your prophecy. My parents have faced death before and they always beat it. The evil they have faced has always fallen and always will," Emma refuted, as she used her magic to disarm the warrior and end the fight. Rumple secured him with bindings as well and only the Queen and Thalia remained. Her father was putting Omaru in handcuffs, while Xander approached Thalia with a pair of zip ties in his hand.

"So...you're going to lock me up again in front of our daughter?" she asked.

"I don't want to do that. But you're the one that's choosing Junior over her," he replied.

"Clayton looked out for us...unlike you," she spat back.

"I didn't know! You hid her from me!" he snapped.

"Because I knew you'd walk out on her just the way you walked out on your twin boys!" she argued.

"You don't know that! Clayton manipulated me for years! And looks like he did it to you too. He told you to hide her from me...didn't?" Xander growled.

"Mom?" Natalie prodded.

"It...it was for the best, honey," Thalia said. Xander scoffed.

"For the best? Seriously? Why? What does he get from that?" Natalie asked, as she looked at Johnny, who smirked at her.

"You know what he wanted...the Chalice and he would have done anything to get to it. Xander running off with Thalia and you didn't fit his purposes. Waking up Charming too early didn't fit his plan either," Johnny said, as he chuckled.

"Even dead...my father is still manipulating all of you! He was a master at it and still he worms his way deeply into this family," he continued.

"He hoped to sire his heir with the Goddess Aphrodite," Johnny said.

"There is no way you're Aphrodite's son…" Snow refuted, as David put his arm around her.

"You're right...he, unfortunately, was unable to seal that deal," he replied.

"Instead...he found another bloodline that was suitable. Not an immortal bloodline, but one that hated Aphrodite and everything she stood for. She was only too happy to sire me with my father when she learned that he was going to bring down Aphrodite's champions," he explained.

"Well, that didn't happen," Emma refuted.

"Yet…" he leered.

"And you're not a part of this family," Leo added.

"Oh...but I am, because of her," Johnny said, looking toward Natalie.

"Yeah...no you're not, because we are done," she refuted. He smirked.

"We'll see," he said.

"Can someone please put him on mute?" David asked. Emma waved her hand and he found himself unable to speak.

"You can have your volume back once we get back to Storybrooke and you're in prison," she said, as she joined her parents and they looked at the sprawling golden city before them.

"It's your choice now, Mom. Are you choosing Clayton over me again?" Natalie asked, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I've never chosen him over you," Thalia responded.

"And I'll prove it to you, if given the chance," she said, as she and Xander locked eyes.

"Guess we'll find out in time," he replied, as he didn't arrest her.

"So what now?" Leo asked.

"Yeah...this is an amazing place. It has to be protected," Eva agreed.

"How do we do that? I mean, it belongs to Zia's people, but it would hardly be safe if we moved it to the Andes Mountains. No offense," Summer said.

"None taken...this would attract every greed filled person in the world and people would suffer," Zia agreed.

"Then what about moving it to the United Realms? Is it possible?" Bobby asked, as he watched his parents exchange a glance.

"With the chalice...I think it's more than possible," Snow said. David smiled at her and kissed her tenderly. It was time to prepare to return home.

~*~

Flashback

"Request denied…" Esteban said, as Mendoza's face fell.

"Sire?" he questioned.

"We have allowed many resources to be wasted on your quest for Cibola and it is time we come to the realization that it does not exist," he said, as his new Queen sat by his side, with their adviser, Lord Tao, there as well.

"Your own adviser has spun the tales of his people's guard of this grand treasure!" Mendoza claimed.

"The final writings of the people of Hiva are mere myth and legend, Navigator," Tao replied.

"No...this is her doing! She is keeping the treasure from us!" Mendoza claimed.

"You will not speak to my Queen in that manner, lest you wish to find a new home in prison," Esteban warned. Mendoza bowed.

"Forgive me, My Lord," he apologized, before leaving quietly, where he met up outside with his new ally, John Clayton.

"So now they claim it's not real," Mendoza said.

"They are lying...I've shown you the ruins of Atlantis and Tao is a descendant of the Mu. Trust me, Cibola is real too and she knows all about it," John said.

"It does not matter if we cannot find it," Mendoza replied.

"Perhaps we can. If we cannot implore them, then we will compel the Goddess to tell us. We are leaving for Cyprus," John said.

"How can we compel the Goddess to help us?" Mendoza asked. He smirked.

"By holding the life of her beloved Adonis over her head," John replied deviously.

~*~

The people of the United Realms gathered at the Harbor, having been summoned there by Queen Rose Red and Fandral. Apparently, the buzz was that Snow White and Prince David were returning from their journey had a grand surprise for all to witness.

A spiraling orange portal appeared in the ocean and the Jolly Roger sailed through it into United Realms waters, before docking at the Harbor.

Eva hurried off the ship and hugged Paul tightly, who enveloped her in his arms and they shared a kiss.

"I missed you, but I have a patient. One of the agents from Boston. She's stable, but we should get her to the hospital," Eva said. Paul smiled.

"So that's where those missing pints of B positive blood went," he realized, with a chuckle.

"I missed you too and I'll call us an ambulance for her," he replied

Leo wasn't far behind her and picked Elsa up, spinning her around. Killian and Emma followed, as they were eager to reunite with their daughter.

"Thanks for watching her for us," Emma said, as she held Hope.

"Please...we loved it," Joe replied.

Summer and Bobby followed their parents and the others off the ship, along with Zia and her parents, whom they had picked up on the way.

"So...what's this big surprise?" Rose asked, as she and Snow shared a hug.

"We found it and now, we're about to present the newest realm to everyone," Snow replied, as she showed her a small snow globe. David sided up to her and pointed out into the water.

"That seems like a good place," he said. She nodded in agreement, as they grasped the chalice together. The snow globe disappeared and the island of Mu appeared before them in the water. Most notably though, the burning mountain was gone. Snow and David had used the chalice to obliterate that threat, before encasing the whole place in a snow globe to be transported. And just behind it was Half Moon island and the incredible splendor of Cibola for all to see.

"Whoa...you did it. This is definitely my next story," Henry said, with a wide grin.

"We cannot thank you enough for preserving our ancestor's legacy," Santo said.

"It's our honor and with the amount of magic beans we have, you'll have enough of a supply to come here any time if you want," Snow replied. Santo looked at his wife.

"That is something we have been discussing and now that we have met the Queen of Hiva, it is clear that she and her people are our direct relation," Irina said.

"We have decided to relocate to Mu. Queen Nubia says that our daughter is extremely gifted and is the rightful heir to Cibola. There is much she must learn though if she is to be Queen of Mu and Cibola someday," Santo said.

"So you're moving here?" Bobby asked with hope in his voice. Zia nodded.

"We are," she confirmed, bringing a smile to his face.

"We do have a few prisoners to relocate though," David said.

"I can help with that," Fandral said, as he went to help escort them to their new home behind bars.

~*~

"So...does this place have a hotel or something?" Natalie asked.

"It does, but that won't be necessary. Our castle has plenty of rooms. Xander stays with us and you and your mother are welcome too," Snow replied. Natalie scoffed.

"Why would you do that?" she asked.

"You're David's sister, which makes you family," Snow replied.

"So it's that simple?" Natalie asked.

"Actually yes...people have accused me of being too soft on adversaries and some of them have a point. But I know someone with a good heart when I see one," Snow replied, as they exchanged a glance.

"And I also know unfinished business between two people," she added, as they glanced at Thalia and Xander. Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Then tomorrow, I'm sure that the Ramos family would welcome your architectural expertise and allow you to explore to your heart's content," Snow replied. Natalie looked at her skeptically.

"Really?" she asked. Snow shrugged.

"Why not? I mean, they're going to need a liaison between Cibola and the Atlantis museum, which has been looking for a curator with your kind of experience," Snow replied. Natalie was floored.

"Did you just offer me a job?" she asked.

"Well…Milo and Kida have the final say, but considering your background, expertise, and relation to my husband, you'll be a shoe in, if you want it," Snow replied, leaving her stunned and speechless. Snow smiled and walked away, as David returned from seeing the prison van off.

"It's good to be home," he said, as she slipped his arms around his waist.

"I'll say…" she replied, as they shared a tender kiss.

"Granny's...and then maybe a moonlight walk on the beach?" he asked.

"That sounds wonderful," she agreed, as they shared another kiss.

"And then...home to bed to not sleep," he whispered to her in a husky tone. She bit her bottom lip in excitement.

"No…I don't think we'll be getting much sleep tonight at all, handsome," she agreed, as she hooked her hand on his elbow and leaned her head against his arm. He put his arm around her waist and headed to Granny's to celebrate with their family.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #original season 9 storyline #Rose Red #Fandral the Dashing #Dashing Rose #Prince James #Aphrodite #Prince Goddess #Regina Mills #Rumplestiltskin #romance #adventure #family #finding you always #the epic continues

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