#yes this does happen in the next chapter of Ripe

[kabie-whump]

When Whumper gives Whumpee a strict rule, then puts them in a position where they have no choice but to break that rule, then punishes them for it anyways 🩷🩷🩷

[inkymagpie]

The Star in the Field Pt.2

Chapter Rating: General

Overall Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Slight Angst, minimal descriptions of y/n, reader uses they/them/she/her pronouns.

Chapter Synopsis: Morpheus lets out a surprised scoff and looks at the raven with mild amusement. 

“Is that what you think, that I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.” Matthew hops closer and the Dream Lord comes to sit on the edge of the fountain. 

“I mean maybe? Maybe not. All I’m saying is maybe you should take a day to just I don’t know, relax, go for a walk or something?” 

The Endless looks up at the murky skies that had been bright and clear not a few minutes ago.“Perhaps you are right.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4

One of the things that you absolutely adored about humans was their markets; from food to odd trinkets, you could spend your whole day wandering the streets of south London. Initially Hob had to guide you through the narrow streets and bustling stalls, assuring you wouldn’t get lost or heckled (which happened only once and ended quick enough when the merchant found out you had no money). But now you move through the throngs of people with ease, finding great joy in experiencing the day to day life of humanity. 

When you had first arrived at the New Inn you had nothing but the dress on your body (having been ruined in the fall), no money and no clue as to what you were going to do now bound to live on Earth. Hob had been more than generous, welcoming you into his home, giving you one of the spare rooms above the Inn and offering you a job of sorts helping him with general management. And considering he had started his adjunct professorship and had to teach two days out of the week he definitely needed an extra set of hands. 

You had been nervous of course at first, cautious of the seemingly overly friendly human, especially after hearing of what the last falling star had to endure during her time on earth. However your companion that had dropped you off ensured you that Hob was nothing but trustworthy, and since he had some experience of what lies beyond the veil of mortality he would be one of the few ‘humans’ that would be able to suspend his disbelief of your origins. 

That had been a month ago nearly to the day, and you found yourself finally beginning to settle in …well aside from your sleep patterns, but it was getting there.

“Getting another peck of apples today y/n?” The fruit stall vendor smiles as you walk up to the table brimming with ripe fruits.

“Yes sir!” You hand him your basket before adjusting your sunhat, the sunlight glinting warmly in the balmy September air. “The apple pies have been a big hit it seems.”

“That’s one thing I think everyone can agree on.” He nods as he carefully selects the ruby red fruits; he always gives you the best ones. 

“What’s that?” You ask as he hands you one to snack on while you shop.

“I don’t think anyone could pass up a good slice of apple pie.” He chuckles.

You grin, apple pie is one of your favorite human treats so you couldn’t agree more. 

“If you stop by the Inn on Friday I’ll be sure to have the cook save you a big slice!” He hands you back your basket, now filled nearly to the brim; you hand him a few notes, to which he returns half of them. “What? No, I know they are worth this much.” You try and hand him back the returned money but he raises his hands up with a soft chuckle.

“I’ll take the rest of that payment in that slice of pie.” He replies smiling. 

You blink at him for a moment, money still in your outstretched hand. Your arm lowers and you smile brightly, tamping down the urge to shine outwardly. 

“I’ll accept that deal good sir.” You put the saved money in the pocket of your dress and do a little half curtsy, he laughs heartily and does a theatrical bow back at you.

“Until next time m’lady.” 

There were a few more stops along the way, and even though your arms were now overburdened with items from the market you still stop on the way back to the New Inn to pick up an earl grey tea with milk for yourself and a black coffee for Hob.

“Whooooaaa! Training for a powerlifting competition now I see!” Hob shuffles around a few patrons as you shoulder the door open with a huff. “I don’t know how you managed to carry all this stuff back here in one trip… is that coffee for me?” He takes a few bags from you arms and grabs the drink tray from you as well.

“There is one important thing that I’ve learned while spending time amongst mortals Hod Galding.” You say, tone serious as you follow him to the small but cozy work kitchen.

He eyes you curiously as he sets the bags in his arms down on the kitchen bench. 

“One must never make two trips with groceries.” You reply matter of factly, setting your own bags down and reaching for your tea in the tray that Hob now held.

He blinks at you and then barks out a peel of laughter so sharp that you are certain the customers in the bar area can hear him. 

You sip your tea looking rather pleased with yourself; knowing that Hob took delight in your humor had become one of your favorite things.

“That I believe is the most important lesson any being, this plane or otherwise could ever learn.” He says wiping his watering eyes when he finally settles down enough to speak without pausing to have a little giggle. 

You laugh at that and start to put some of your purchases away.

“Guenevere comes in in an hour, you don’t have to put anything away; not like you bought anything that would spoil sitting out?” Hob leans against the bench and sips at his coffee watching as you organize your purchases.

“I know but I don’t mind helping.” You shrug and continue on, you know that Guenevere would be more than happy to put away the ingredients you had bought for her but honestly… you still felt like you had so much you had to repay Hob for that you pick up any slack around the Inn. 

He leaves for a moment to check with the bartender ‘something about Mad Hettie stopping by and drinking the last of the thirty year old whiskey scotch.’

You finish up your prep and store the basket and bags away, taking a moment to lean against the bench and enjoy your tea…except… your mind keeps drifting to the man in your dreams. 

You hadn’t told Hob about him just that you had dreamt… it’s not like it meant anything, just a weird figment of your imagination, a creation of your own mind after years and years never dreaming. 

It isn’t until you hear Hob greeting Guenevere from the front of the house that you realize you had drifted off into thought again and your tea was now unpleasantly cool.

-

“So a new Star, huh… I always thought they were like giant balls of gas…” Matthew comments as he watches Lucienne leaf through a few pages from another book. There was a picture of what looked like a sun on the cover so he assumes it must be about space…or something?

“Not all Stars are immortal beings, some are in fact, as you put it…giant balls of gas.” Lucienne replies, examining a line of text with more scrutiny. 

“Ya but most of the ones that aren’t balls of gas are balls of hot air.” Mervyn huffs as he works to clean some melted wax off the book ladened table.

“Mervyn…” Lucienne sighs and eyes him over her spectacles.

“What? Thinking they’re too good for the Dreaming and all that.” 

“Too good for the Dreaming?” Matthew asks, curiosity more than piqued at this point.

Lucienne lowers the book in her hand, careful to keep her spot as she eyes the two men chidingly, before turning her attention to Matthew, gaze softening a bit.

“Most Stars are ancient beings, older than some of the gods themselves. Since they have existed for so long and do not require rest in the same way mortals do, many of them do not visit the Dreaming anymore.” She replies.

“They don’t sleep?“ The raven cocks his head. 

“Oh they sleep.” Merv butts in. 

“Stars can sleep, but they don’t require it.” Lucienne ignores the comment from their pumpkin headed companion. “But when they sleep they often bypass the Dreaming.” 

“Why would they do that?” Matthew questions, why would anyone want to circumvent the Dreaming?

“As I’ve said they’ve been around for a long time I suppose when you live for that long you sometimes…lose interest after a few millennia.” She shrugs. 

Matthew is quiet for a moment, contemplating. Lucienne goes back to her book. 

“I didn’t think anyone would ever get tired of the Dreaming, I don’t think I ever would.” He says matter-of-factly. 

“Oh they come to visit every thousand years or so; have a little vacation.” Merv says having finally gotten the stubborn wax off the table. 

“Merv I’m sure there are other tables that might need your attention.” The Librarian says pointedly and everyone knows it’s her way of telling him ‘that’s enough.’

“Ya, ya …” he waves her off nonplussed, but moves to go about his business. “Maybe you guys should start putting’ I don’t know tea cozies' under your candle fixtures, save me some of the trouble of scrapin’ wax.” He says nonchalantly as he stalks off into another corner of the Library. 

Lucienne sighs and shakes her head, the library now finally quiet again. 

Matthew decides to give the librarian some air and goes to find Morpheus, maybe he had found out something interesting (though he doubts it, Lucienne seems to always be a step ahead when it comes to sleuthing.)

He finds him in the castle gardens, the great stone pillars and statues once again in all their former glory, the plethora of flora which he is fairly certain didn’t exist on earth beginning to flourish once more.

“Making good progress boss.” He comments as he lands on the grand fountain, which still has a few cracks but no longer a ruin and ruffles his feathers from the mist of water it produces.

“Yes… so it would seem.” Morpheus comments without zeal. “The dreams and nightmares are beginning to return as well.”

“It’ll be an interesting place when it’s all full again.” 

“The Dreaming is never full, its expanse is ever growing, shifting.” Morpheus comments, his focus still drawn to the landscape before him.

Matthew watches as the Dream Lord waves his hand and a branching hydra of ivy twists and turns its way up one of the archways that lines the cobblestone path that winds through the garden. A burst of shifting iridescent flowers blooming across its tendrils. Then all of the archways that follow repeat the process until the garden pathway is an ever changing cornucopia of colors. 

“You have a question, do you not Matthew?” The raven is sure he sees a small quirk on his master's lips.

“Well I didn’t want to interrupt your hard work.” He huffs, Morpheus can be so smug with his foresight. 

Morpheus waits, knowing that his patience will out last Matthews need to find answers. 

“Did you find anything out about the Star?” He finally asks, this catches Morpheus’ attention, and he turns towards the raven, a frown drawing his face tight.

“I have not.” he pauses for a moment, weighing if he should ask or not. “Has Lucinenne…” he lets the question hang in the air, hoping Matthew will pick up on it and not make him stoop to asking outright.

“No, not yet.” This causes the frown on Morpheus’ face to deepen. 

The air grows a bit chillier and Matthew is quite certain those rain clouds weren’t there a moment again. Ah his boss is brooding again.

“Hey, have you thought about taking a little break, you’ve had a lot on your plate recently.” Matthew says after a lengthy silence where Morpheus stewed in his thoughts. 

“What?” 

“What if you’re making this whole Star thing into a bigger thing than it is? You just got all your stolen stuff back and the Dreaming isn’t falling apart anymore. Maybe you just need a you day instead of acting like the world is ending.” Matthew shrugs or as best he can with wings.

Morpheus lets out a surprised scoff and looks at the raven with mild amusement. 

“Is that what you think, that I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.” Matthew hops closer and the Dream Lord comes to sit on the edge of the fountain. 

“I mean maybe? Maybe not. All I’m saying is maybe you should take a day to just I don’t know, relax, go for a walk or something?” 

The Endless looks up at the murky skies that had been bright and clear not a few minutes ago.

“Perhaps you are right.”

-

It isn’t quite cold enough for the fire to be lit in the parlor but the small room is cozy nonetheless and it has become one of you favorite places to end the day; when most of the patrons had gone home and Hob had completed his not so subtle nightly flirting with Guenevere before she too had left for the evening.

You gaze up from your book, and give him a smug little smile as he enters the room, a small tray of biscuits and two teacups balanced in his grasp.

“What’s that look for, hmmm?” He questions as he settles down in the armchair across from you, pulling some papers from the messenger bag beside the chair. 

“Oh nothing… How is Guenevere?” You ask, reaching for a biscuit and one of the cups, your nose scrunching up as you catch the scent of coffee wafting from the saucer. “It’s past 10pm, Hob.” But you still take the offered drink anyway. 

He sputters theatrically at your gentle teasing.

“I’ll have you know she is doing very well and I am very charming.” He looks rather pleased with himself as he stuffs a biscuit in his mouth. “And it’s decaf, we are out of the Sleepytime tea.” 

You click your tongue as you examine the biscuit between your fingers, you wonder if it will taste good if you dip it in the coffee like you did your nightly tea. You decide to try. 

“I can stop off at the cafe near the market and pick up some more tomorrow.” You say, trying your new biscuit coffee creation which you decide is acceptable. 

“I don’t mind doing that, you already went out today, I don’t want you making another trip just because I was lazy and didn’t check.” He says, neatly stacking the papers he pulled from his bag and clicking his pen.

You wave him off taking a big gulp from your coffee oh! The sugar from the biscuit was a delightful little surprise. “You know I don’t mind going out at all, I actually wanted to do a little window shopping anyway, I keep hearing about ‘fall fashion’ and I don’t want to miss out on what sounds like such an important human custom.”

Hob laughs before settling down and looking over the paperwork in his lap; papers from his students you presume. You settle back in as well going back to your reading.

It’s quiet for a time, save for the sound of Hobs occasionally scribbling.

“I worry about you sometimes.” You look up frowning. 

“About me?” Your companion gives you a small glance but quickly focuses back on his writing.

“About what you said, with the last…Star that fell to earth. That people tried to cut out her heart?” You still find it hard to fathom that he believed everything that you had told him so far about Stars… but Hob was a strange man and not exactly…human himself.

“I mean that was years ago, well over a century. I doubt I’ll run into anyone like that.” You hum thinking back to the story that was told to you upon the return of Yvaine. “Are there even witches like that anymore?”

Hob looks at you with raised brows.

“If there is one thing I’ve grown certain of over the years is that you can never be sure of what’s out there.”

You sit back in your chair with a sigh. 

“I suppose you’re right…thank you for thinking about me, it means a lot, truly.” You give him a genuine smile which he returns before looking back to his paperwork.

“Just let me know if I have to beat anyone off with a stick.” He chuckles.

You snort and shake your head.

-

You turn over in your bed for what must be the hundredth time that night, the alarm clock glowing mockingly in the dark.

1am

You had told yourself the night before that you would finally be getting your routine down tonight… but every time you close your eyes, your mind drifts off. The brief mention of Yvaine weighing heavily on your mind.

She had been the only other fallen Star that you had ever known… and certainly the only one to ever return to the heavens and with her beloved husband no less. Maybe, maybe you could return? If you could just somehow find a candle.

A Babylonian Candle; the relic that had allowed her to return… an artifact so rare that it was a shock she had found it amongst mortals at all, a very gift from the Presence himself. 

You sign and turn over once again, now facing the window that you had once again refused to curtain. 

-

The next morning you’re up before Hob, well having been up all night you're not sure if it really counts that you ‘got up’ before him. You split a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast with jam with him before letting him know that you planned to stop by the cafe by the market before going window shopping.

“At least buy yourself a few things, warm things, weathers going to be changing here soon.” He comments and hands you some notes.

“You don’t have to give me money.” You frown and push it back over to him across the table.

“You’re getting your ‘paycheck’ on Friday anyway, just take it a little early.” He has been giving you a weekly paycheck of sorts, a stipend really, since you started helping him around the Inn. You had initially told him no but when he asked you how you intended to pay for things you had been stumped…and begrudgingly accepted.

You sigh as he pushes the money back to you and you accept it, though you do hand him back the extra fifty pounds he tried to sneak you; he laughs and rolls his eyes accepting the truce. 

You head out once you are sure the stores would be open and oh Hob was right, there is a chill in the air and you run back inside and ask to borrow a jacket. 

Your first stop is the cafe, they do their own blends of tea there and both you and Hob are quite fond of their ‘Sleepytime’ tea. You’re not sure if it actually makes you sleepy but he swears by it and it tastes delightful. You purchase a bag of freshly blended loose leaf tea along with a charming little teaspoon that has a silver sleeping cat on the handle.

Walking back out into the crisp morning air you make your way down to the historic shopping district; a lovely little area with narrow cobblestone streets and shopfronts in brick buildings that had stood for centuries. 

You decide that you can’t borrow one of Hobs jackets every time the weather has a nip in the air so you pop into a little clothing store you had walked past a few times while out and about. The mannequins in the window display all wearing cute, warm looking clothing and accessories. 

You end up with a darling jacket, one that fits you much better than your borrowed one as well as a push scarf and heavy knit socks with foxes on them. 

You stop in a few more shops but nothing catches your fancy enough to purchase; you decide to grab lunch at a small cafe before heading back.

You notice a dessert menu as you finish up your meal and settle on getting a to-go dessert for Hob as a little thank you for giving you your paycheck early. You select a slice of chocolate cake and thank the waitress for her recommendations and pack up to head back to the Inn.

You didn’t really have anything else planned for the day so you take your time enjoying the weather as you walk, taking the long way back past the park. You avoid what looks like a car accident by the park entrance; though you curiously eye a number of ambulances, before giving a quick once over of the crowd before continuing on. 

It’s 3pm by the time you arrive back at the Inn, fumbling with the door as you try to balance your bags as well as the dessert for Hob. Finally you manage to scoot the door open and you shuffle inside, you can see Hob on the far side of the Inn speaking with a man in all black who’s back is facing you.

Hob spots you over the man’s shoulder and grins waving you over; you return his smile but before you can take a step further his guest slowly turns to look at you…

It feels as though time stands still, or perhaps it’s your heart… you distantly hear the sound of the bags that were once in your hands falling to the floor.

It’s the man from your dream.

Taglist: @boofy1998 @gnnnne @deniixlovezelda @oo0lady-mad0oo​

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Nightingale Chapter Fifteen - Choose

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Fifteen: Choose

Word Count: 3037

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

Jensen stole a look at you as the car pulled up to the dreary office building. The very picture of grace under pressure. Resolute and calm. The best damned poker face he’d ever seen, only the icy hand in his betrayed your fear. He released you only long enough for the two of you to exit the vehicle, immediately resuming his hold as you were led into one of the offices.

Part of him was worried that if he let go, you would simply disappear. There were so many aspects of this that were far beyond his control. Everything seemed to be lining up to rip the two of you apart. It took every bit of persuasion to get the agent that showed up to allow Jensen to accompany you, even still the intimidating man kept shooting dirty looks in the rear-view mirror.

The office was sparse. Four walls, a desk and a few chairs. Glaring, overhead fluorescent fixtures provided the only light source, and one wall had a suspicious looking framed mirror.

“Suppose that’s one of those two-way mirrors?” Jensen said, half joking.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you glanced over and gave the mirror a salute.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Suppose they’ll start with the good cop or the bad cop?”

“Good or bad is simply a matter of perception, Mr. Ackles.”

The two of you turned to see a man with black framed glasses and a charcoal suit enter. He was young, maybe a few years younger than you. A wiry, swimmer’s build and a thick mop of unruly brown hair. He carried a file under one arm and a cardboard drink carrier with three cups in his free hand. With the casualness of youth, he kicked the door shut behind him and tossed the file on the desk.

“Non-fat, vanilla latte for Doctor West,” he said handing you a cup then the next one to Jensen. “Coffee, black.”

“Uncle Sam really does know everything,” Jensen said, accepting the coffee.

“Your tax dollars hard at work,” replied the man, dropping into the vacant seat on the opposite side of the desk. He ran a busy hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end, and opened the file, pulling out several papers in seemingly no order.

You frowned down at the paper cup held in your lap. This was not what you expected at all. “Who are you?”

His head popped up in surprise, “Ah yes! Right… sorry. My name is Frank Solomon. I’m the agent in charge of your case.”

“What happened to Agent Jackson?”

“Retired. Last year,” he resumed his paper shuffling. “I hear he spends most days golfing in Sedona. Nice work if you can get it.”

You furrowed your brow as he spread out several black and white mug shots in front of you. “Now Doctor, I need you to study these carefully. Do you recognize any of these men?”

You looked briefly then shook your head, “I don’t understand… I thought you were relocating me?”

Solomon’s dark, brown eyes were sharp and probing. He gave the impression that he could find your every weakness with a glance. He was the hawk and you the prey.

“Do you want to be relocated?”

It felt like a trap, regardless of how you answered. “Do I have a choice?”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Alright!” Jensen broke in with a huff, “Before we go any further with this spy vs spy double talk crap… where the hell have you guys been?”

“Jensen,” you started.

“No! Seriously, she’s been doing her own thing for what… three years now? How does that work? You guys just drop her in a foreign city with a fresh ID and say good luck? Hope the mob doesn’t come knocking!”

For the first time, Agent Solomon looked uncomfortable. It was slight and he recovered quickly. “Typically, the agent assigned to any given case sees it through to its completion. That means keeping in regular contact with witnesses until trial, and sometimes beyond. The longer a case drags out, the less likely it is it will ever go to court.”

“So… time passes, the trail gets cold, Jackson retires, and I was forgotten about?”

“This wasn’t a top priority case, no.”

“You son of a bitch,” Jensen ground out, the muscle in his jaw clenched.

To his credit, Solomon didn’t flinch. He kept his sharpened gaze on you. “Circumstances have changed, you recall the code name Bishop?”

A chill slid down your spine, that old saying about someone walking over your grave came to mind. “That was the name of Colin’s contact.”

“We were never able to get his real name, anyone he met with in person and could provide an ID disappeared. Or wound-up dead, like Colin Garrett.”

He passed a grainy, black and white picture to you. It was a still from a surveillance camera, you recognized the back stairwell from your New York apartment building. And you recognized him.

“Oh… my God.”

“Doctor West, can you identify this man?”

“That’s Arthur Green. He was Colin’s racquetball partner… they grew up together.” You closed your eyes as you realized just how naïve you’d been. “In the neighborhood. Colin was in it from the beginning, wasn’t he? Before he ever became a doctor.”

Solomon laid out more pictures, several of Colin and Arthur in their younger days. “We believe so.”

“So, you’ve got a positive ID on this Bishop guy and that’s reopened the case?” Jensen asked. “That’s why you guys finally showed up?”

“Arthur Green has been in and out of the system his whole life. A typical repeat offender. He was released from Federal prison on parole six months ago. Two weeks ago, he failed to check in with his parole officer, that was when his file came across my desk.”

“I don’t get it… If you guys already had him, why let him go?” Jensen asked with a shake of his head. “What exactly do you do at the FBI? Cold cases?”

Suddenly, briefly, the agent looked even younger. Like a kid caught past curfew. “Until recently, I was part of the surveillance department.”

“How recently?” you asked, afraid of the answer.

“Very recently.”

Jensen choked out a laugh, “Great! The FBI lets Green go and send a rookie to clean up the mess!”

“I recognized his face from a file I skimmed nearly five years prior and found it a perfect match. There was no one working on this case after Jackson retired and frankly, my superiors are not exactly convinced it’s worth looking into now.”

Solomon gestured to the papers on the desk, many of them featured information about you. Your aliases. Your testimony. Every detail of your life tracked by the government, some of it even from before you knew Colin. You really wanted to throw a match on the whole damn thing.

“Arthur Green has been out before now, but this is the first time he’s ever disappeared on us, and I believe that is because of you.”

“Because I blew my cover.”

“I have to hand it to you, spectacular work. That Dateline piece really drummed up a lot of interest. Your sister and her husband even went on the Today show.”

“Husband. Frankie married?”

Leaving your little sister behind was the hardest thing you’d ever done. Harder than walking away from your dream job, harder than moving to a city where you didn’t know a soul. How many times had you picked up the phone, seconds away from dialing her number just to hear her voice? How many birthdays had you missed? Christmases. Graduations. Job interviews. Late nights conversations about horrible first dates. Or amazing ones. Frankie was your best friend, and her absence was something you never grew accustomed to.

Agent Solomon nodded, his expression unreadable. “Married with a two-year-old son.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose in an effort not to completely break down. “Great. That’s… that’s really great.”

Jensen’s heart broke for you. On one hand, that was a successful execution of witness protection, wasn’t it? It had kept you alive and your family safe. It wasn’t easy, but a worthy sacrifice given the stakes. Still, it seemed especially cruel to miss so much just trying to do the right thing.

“You mentioned a choice,” he said. “What’s the choice?”

“Well, we can put Doctor West back into witness protection. Make her disappear, just like every other time. Obviously, your fame and nontertiary makes this tricky, but it can be done. It won’t be pleasant or comfortable, but it will be effective.”

“What’s the other option?” you asked.

“We flush him out.” Solomon leaned over the desk and pulled out a file with Jensen’s name on it. “Mr. Ackles’ celebrity status gives us a unique opportunity. You stay here in Vancouver, engage in all of your typical activities. Maybe go out on the town a bit more, see and be seen. When Green shows we take him in.”

“You want to use her as bait?!”

“Jensen,” you quietly admonished him.

“No! No way!” Jensen was up and out of his seat, taking to pace while his thoughts ran wild. “You’ve got her disappearing God knows where for the rest of her life or stay here and hope this nut job doesn’t kill her while you guys are taking a smoke break. Either way, she loses her life and for what? To give you a win big enough to get you out of the mailroom?”

“You are absolutely right.” Solomon’s tone was even and measured. A counterpoint to Jensen’s impassioned outburst. He looked directly at you, his dark eyes not quite as calculating as they were before.

“Dr. West, do you recall your first interrogation session with Agent Jackson?”

You were still wearing the silk camisole and short set you wore to bed. Colin had bought it for you on his last business trip and you liked to wear it when he was away. A romantic notion that maybe it was lucky, that if you wore it, he would return safely to you. Just like he always had.

You sat in a room so freezing cold that you could practically see your breath. Wearing flimsy night clothes that did nothing to keep you warm and even less to keep your modesty. You felt so exposed and vulnerable. And scared. And confused. It was surreal! Like something out of a movie. You must have been there for hours before someone finally came in and spoke to you. It was Jackson. He gave you a coffee. Lukewarm, without a hint of cream or sugar.

He didn’t ask you any questions. Just laid out the case. File after file. Pictures, confessions, fingerprints. It was all there. Utterly undeniable proof that the man you loved, lived with, wanted a future with, simply didn’t exist. He was a con. A made-up persona and you were nothing more than set dressing in the fake life he used to deal drugs.

“He lied… everything he said, everything we did.” You sat there, numb from the cold and now from this bombshell that had blown your life apart. “I thought he was a doctor.”

“He is,” Jackson said, pulling out Colin’s med school records. “Board certified. Has been for nearly two decades.”

“No.” Two fat tears burned a bitter path down your cheek. You brushed them away with an impatient hand. “Doctors help people. They save lives, they don’t destroy them. They take an oath to first do no harm. The opioid crisis is an epidemic, its killed thousands!”

The grizzled agent shook his head as he shuffled through the papers, “I don’t think your boyfriend thought much about that oath when he took it.”

“Well, I did.” You raised your chin a notch as you swallowed down the tears. “When I said those words, I meant them.”

Jackson met your determined gaze and for the first time, you didn’t see distain or suspicion. You saw respect.

“Whatever you need from me, you’ve got it.”

You nodded, “I remember.”

“You were outraged that anyone who would take the Hippocratic Oath would be involved in something that killed people for profit, let alone someone you loved. You offered us your assistance before we even asked. Your actions were motivated out of the desire to help people, because that’s what doctors do. That’s who you are.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. It seemed like such a long time ago, a lifetime ago. You’d been naïve in your relationship with Colin, and it cost you everything. Even your name. In many ways, it felt like another woman had said those things. An idealistic, stupidly brave woman who acted impulsively and from the heart. A woman who did the right thing because her conscience would never allow her to do otherwise. She was a believer.

God… could you ever really be her again?

“Y/N. The drug ring is done, most of the people involved have plea bargains with the DA or they disappeared altogether. Arthur Green is an outlier; his only motivation now is revenge, and his sole target is you. The only question is, what do you want to do about it?”

You could feel Solomon’s eyes on you, willing you to go along with his plan. Waiting for you to tell him your decision. Your choice. It didn’t feel like it was yours though, it felt like the same choice you’d been faced with seven years ago. The only difference was that you now had an acute understanding of the consequences. Not just for you; for everyone. And it paralyzed you.

Jensen’s voice came from somewhere behind you, “Agent, would you give us a minute?”

“Absolutely,” the younger man replied. He drained his coffee in one, long swallow and tossed the paper cup in the trash can as he passed.

The heavy door clicked closed behind him and Jensen’s hands landed on your shoulders. The steady warmth of his palms helped ground you.

“Every time I think all of Colin’s dirty secrets are out in the open, another one pops up.”

“I know.”

“He’s been dead for seven years and the bombshells are still coming.”

Jensen dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “I know.”

You picked at the hem of your shirt to busy your hands. “I’m still so angry with him, you’d think I’d be over it by now. Its useless to be furious at a dead person.”

“I hate to break it to you, but it’s a pretty normal reaction. I’d be mad too, hell I’d be pissed!”

“I’m more pissed at myself.” You blew out a breath, your head falling back against Jensen who was still behind you, steady as ever. “I should have kept in better contact with Agent Jackson.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, alright?” Jensen came around to face you, “You went above and beyond here. Most people wouldn’t have had the strength to leave their whole life behind. You didn’t even hesitate. That took real guts.”

“It wasn’t guts. It was a complete lack of understanding of the consequences. I thought I’d be gone a month or two at the most. That they’d catch the bad guys and I’d be home in time for Christmas!”

You squeezed your eyes closed, thinking immediately of your little sister. How many important days have you missed? How many times was she alone, mourning you, mourning your parents? She paid the price for your poor judgement, perhaps even more than you did.

“Frankie’s married, she’s a mom! We always said we were going to raise our kids together, you know? After Mom and Dad died… we just didn’t want to be apart.” You dropped your head to your hands, “God! She’s never going to forgive me for this!”

“Baby, I don’t know your sister. But if she’s anything like you, she’s not going hate you for doing what you thought was right. And she’s not going to give up searching for you, she sounded pretty stubborn in that interview.”

“It’s a family trait.” You stood to pace, your mind working over-time only to come to the same conclusion over and over again.

“Disappearing into witness protection was the best option to keep her safe. As badly I as I wanted to take down a drug ring and bring the mob to justice, Frankie was my real motivation. If the mob thought I was dead, she wouldn’t be on their radar. Now that Arthur Green knows I’m alive… she’s a potential target. I don’t care what the Agent Solomon says, she’s in as much danger as I am.”

Jensen studied your determined profile. Your jaw was set and your eyes clear. “Sounds like you’ve made your decision.”

“The only way to make sure the people I love aren’t in the crosshairs, is to put myself there instead.”

He hated it. The very idea of it made him want to throw you over his shoulder and book a private jet to parts unknown. But this was bigger than the two of you. You were right, everyone connected to you was at risk. There was only one way this could go down, but he wasn’t about to let you do it alone.

“Not just you, Sweetheart. This is on both of us.”

“Jensen, I love you. And I know you love me too, but you don’t have to do this to prove it. Even with the FBI backing us up, I don’t know… it’s a risk. A big one.”

“It is,” he agreed, grasping your shoulders. “But there is no risk I wouldn’t take for you. The mob, the drug ring, the damn FBI… it doesn’t matter. You and me together, that’s what matters. I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

You reached up and cupped his face, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. His arresting green eyes locked on yours long enough to silence your doubts. The cold fear you’d felt since regaining your memories melted away, leaving resolve in its place.

“Stronger together?”

Jensen winked, causing you to grin back. “Damn straight.”

“Well then. I guess it’s time for Doctor Y/N West to come back from the dead.”

[deltaruminations]

i love putting deltarune characters in the most mundane Situations. toby fox gives us a brand new vibrant imaginative fantasy world every chapter and im like that rules but also holy shit the light world is a recognizable modern earth society? humans and monsters live together on the surface without significant political strife or prejudice? hell yeah im having characters take a bullet train to some unnamed hybrid of seattle and portland and dicking around Uwajimaya. i’m giving grillby a bun and on-trend mixology pop-ups. im pondering the potential frustrations of being the only person with blood in a tiny town full of magic-dust fucks and needing to buy goddamned tampons. im toiling deep in the dark shitpost mines contemplating crucial worldbuilding questions like "how often does rudy take his daughter(s) camping?" (at least once per season before dess disappeared, once or twice a year after that until… well, you know. gotta take it easy while the doctors run all those tests.) and "where do they go camping?" (varies, but the consistent annual spot is in the berry fields in the mountains two hours out of town. they usually go just before or after the peak of the season, when the crowds are thinner but there are just enough mountain blueberries ripe for the picking that they can harvest a ground coffee can’s worth over the week, griddling them into pancakes and snacking on them fresh while dipping their feet into the clear, cool lake at the center of the campsite. the picking isn’t quite as good in late summer, and the sun burns a little hotter, but the water is warmer and the mountain flies are too lazy to bite. go early, and the lake swarms with frisky damselflies and youth camp kids on canoes and, more than anything else, wriggling black clouds of tadpoles suckling at the shoreline for tiny flies and detritus and bumping indiscriminately into whatever young girl’s hooves happen to get in their way. when noelle was still fairly small, in her first early season, she screamed upon seeing them, sobbing profusely and refusing to join her sister and dad in the crawling water. it took them half the trip to coax her past them, dess bringing her palmfuls of the little things in various stages, rudy pointing out their tiny developing legs and eyes and saying, see, sweetheart? they’re just like little baby froggits. don’t tell me you’re afraid of froggit now, too! how am i s’posed to explain that to them at the next sunday service? and he tipped his head back and laughed as the girls giggled along in suit, sincere in their ease but secretly exchanging glances, aware of how noelle used to shiver and hide behind her parents’ legs upon seeing froggit at the socials after church, recognizing how she still to that day would startle at every sudden jolt from their otherwise friendly, bobbing calm, put off by their too-high hops, the too-fast snap of their tongue as they grabbed another donut from the box. in truth, maybe the tadpoles were easier to tolerate, moving predictably in linear swim, paddling little leggy fins, blowing kisses at the surface of the water and tickling her ankles with their… thin… wagging tails… she let any thoughts of resemblance to horrible, slippery mice scatter away like the frightened proto-froggits around her legs as she finally waded into the water, into her sister’s ecstatic embrace and the clatter of whoops and cheers bouncing across the surface of the lake from their dad, paddling in toward them, his voice betraying a slight break, maybe a choke, before he wrapped his arms around them both and held them close.) and most importantly "does the tv show jackass exist unchanged in this universe?" (yes)

[kxlinthesky]

EPISODE 6 PART 2 LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 5-8 English Translation

“... Leviathan....”

Owl unconsciously whispered the word as he caught a glimpse of her behind Nick’s wings.

Leviathan. The demon of envy. A monstrous sea serpent, perhaps the monstrous sea serpent. Legend said it was created by Heaven and sent down to Earth, and that no weapon could pierce its impenetrable scales.

“For... for her to – to become a Demon like that –” Owl’s spirits sank. He’d thought she was fine, he hadn’t even noticed how she’d been feeling, it hadn’t even occurred to him –

On the other hand, Krinos was the very picture of pride standing next to her. “What do you think?” they hummed. “Beautiful, isn’t she? She was marvelously lucky, you know. I gave her this special form because she told me she wanted ‘a heart as hard as stone.’ She wanted a heart that could not be hurt... by thorns, by spears, or even by words. That is why I chose to grant unto her the form of the Demon Leviathan, and it would seem the pair are quite compatible. She has truly become a living mineral, one that does not require a heart or free will. I have given her a form that does not feel, just as she wished.” Their eyes flicked all across Ritz’s new form, a satisfied smile rising to their face. “And, as a bonus... fish do not reek like animals.”

Nick stiffened. “A heart... that can’t be hurt...?” His mind flashed back to the police station and the agency, back to when the usually bright and positive Ritz had suddenly let her true feelings slip. How she was looked down on and lorded over by others because she was a woman, no matter how hard she worked to prove herself....

“... Ritz,” he whispered in horror. His fingers dug into the bricks below him, blood trailing in their wake. But he felt no pain. Why would he? Compared to the agony in her soul, this was nothing. “Why – why, how did things get this bad, how – you were in so much pain, why –” His bloodied hands rose to claw at his chest. Tears fell freely from his wide, unseeing eyes. “How – how did I not notice...?! Ritz, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...!! I always listened, I always heard you, but I never helped you...! This is my fault...!!”

Ritz stared back at him, utterly emotionless. Her heart truly had become stone – there was nothing that could move her now.

“Owl,” Nick screamed, “you have to fix her, NOW!!” He picked up Owl’s gun, lying on the ground by its owner. His skin instantly began to smoke and hiss as the metal burned cherry-red – the weapon refused to let any but its wielder hold it. Maybe it would be different if Nick was currently human, but right now he was a Demon, and so the gun scalded him as mercilessly as any other.

But Nick refused to relinquish his hold. He pressed the gun into Owl’s hand. “Please, Owl,” he begged. “You can do it, right?”

Owl was silent for a moment, but he eventually gave a single light dip of his head. But he couldn’t muster the strength to lift his hand, not while he was pouring everything he had into the healing spell. And all the while, the bloodstain underneath his head continued to spread.

Still, his violet eyes remained locked on Krinos in a furious glare. “What... what’s your angle,” he wheezed, “turning Ritz into a Demon?”

Krinos tilted their head. “How do you mean?”

“You picked her for a reason, right?” Nick asked. “Made her a Demon so you could use her power?”

Krinos blinked, their head still tilted. “I did require this specific Demon, yes, but it did not specifically have to be her,” they answered. “It simply worked out this way. She appeared before me entirely by chance, and she just happened to possess the sort of soul and disposition required of Leviathan’s host, one ripe with sadness and hatred. That is the honest truth. It would not have been a great loss had she failed to become the Demon I required; there are, after all, plenty of others to choose from.”

“What...?” It just worked out that way? Owl and Nick stared at them, eyes wide and mouths hanging open.

A gleeful voice rang out. “Haha, HAHAHA!! Oh, what a face you’re making, Mr. Great Detective...! Hahaha! Are you frustrated? Does it hurt you so...?!” It was Low, his howling words echoing throughout the building. “AhhahaHAHA! How does it feel, seeing your oh so precious friend turned into a Demon? HAHAHA!”

Owl squinted in the direction of the building, but he didn’t see Low anywhere. The young man continued taunting him in a voice that absolutely dripped with delight. “How does it feel, knowing your dear friend drank poison...?! I’m the one who broke her. I administered it to her with my own hands! I made her into a Demon! Me! I did this! I wrecked someone so near and dear to you! Because you had to fight back against Master Mastema...!” His laughter continued on, growing more and more manic with each breath.

“Shut up!!” Nick screamed. His eyes widened as far as they could go, staring deep into the inky darkness before him. “Detect scope!!” he shouted. “You can’t hide from me!!”

His eyes scanned the walls of the building, eventually pausing on one of the many windows. The room beyond was too dark to see anything, but that didn’t stop him. His pupils contracted until they were tiny dots, nearly invisible against a crimson background. There was no hiding from his sight. “Subject: unknown. Object: demon dog. Assessment: overly tenacious, clingy, dependency issues, and a persecution complex. Jumps on any prey that wanders in front of him. He’s decided that his ultimate joy is to wag his tail for others until the end of his days. There’s no treatment for an animal who’d bite the hand that tried to heal it before!!” Low was trying to conceal himself, but Nick could clearly see the dog’s tail. His hand gripped his crystal staff tight, his knuckles white. “Plan: zero. Owl’s healing would be wasted on you. I’ll burn you to a crisp!!”

Golden light crackled around the tip of the staff. Nick raised his arm and directed it at that tiny pane of glass off in the distance. “Erase all records!!”

And with a grunt, he bodily hurled the staff right at it.

The air shook with a thunderous CLAP as the glowing staff shot through the darkness like a lightning bolt. The earth trembled with a mighty BOOM as the glass shattered in a massive glittering spray that gleamed in the light like a firework. There might’ve been a bestial howl somewhere in between the ear-shattering roars of thunder and the crashing of glass, but the fireworks completely swallowed up any screams and even his existence in its conflagration.

Nick didn’t stop to watch the outcome, though. He turned immediately to Krinos, eyes narrowed. “You...! I’ll burn you too...!” A fresh staff appeared in his hand even as his chest heaved, gasping for air.

Krinos smiled beatifically at him. “Ahh, good, very good. You are just a tad too lovely, though – not very Demonic of you, is it?”

It was an unsettling sight. Nick was usually beaming and cheerful, but now his expression was so twisted in fury and loathing that it was beyond uncanny. Owl could see the remains of his partner’s humanity crumbling away, the last bits of his kindness and affection that had kept his Demonic impulses at bay for so long. “Nick, wait...!” he gasped, reaching out for his friend.

But Nick slipped out of his grasp. “Don’t worry, Owl,” he said firmly, quietly... almost tonelessly. “It’ll all be over soon.”

“No...! You can’t let your emotions get swallowed up anymore!”

“I, I’m going to, get everything back...! I’m – I’m going to – turn everything – that’s broken – back to normal...!” He was turning incoherent. Nick brandished his staff, his wings flaring. A cloud of scales fell from his beautiful blue wings, which spread in the air like a membrane that threatened to envelop Krinos....

... Who simply tilted their head. “My, what a troublesome little poison you have there,” they hummed. “I’ll be needing to rinse it off.” They snapped their fingers in front of Ritz’s face, and a jolt visibly ran through her body. “She may be a fingerling yet, but she has more than enough power. Now, then, by all means, show me yours.”

“... Ah –”

“Let us make the world beautiful.”

Krinos’ voice was barely a whisper on the breeze, but to Ritz, it was an unyielding typhoon that she couldn’t hope to resist, vibrating from her eardrums to her brainstem. “Beautiful – beautiful,” she repeated. “Make the world – make everything – everything – beautiful.” Her tail rose high, stirred by their words. “Cold spiral...” she hissed, faint as a bubble leaking from a goldfish’s mouth.

SLAM!! Her tail, on the other hand, smashed against the ground with deafening force, sending a rippling shockwave through the earth and uprooting a fire hydrant by an alleyway in front of the gate. A pillar of water gushed from the hole where it had once stood, and Nick found himself momentarily blinded.

“Sweep ripple.”

The droplets scattering throughout the air coalesced into one giant, rippling ball of liquid that rocketed toward Nick and Owl like it had a mind of its own, undulating through the air almost like a giant watery serpent. Nick jolted back to his senses and turned. “Owl!!” he yelled. He leaped at Owl and stood like a shield between him and the oncoming water, wrapping his wings around the injured detective.

The giant ball exploded with a bellowing roar, dousing the pair below and soaking the entire area around them. It was like a flood had hit. The sheer volume of water sent the two sprawling, this time all the way to the gate. The carriage parked outside was swept all the way to the other side of the street, though it didn’t tip.

Nick managed to grab the iron gate and hold on for dear life, Owl still ensconced in his wings. “Owl! You alive?!”

“... Yeah,” came the weak response from within. He could speak, thankfully, but as expected he still wasn’t strong enough to stand. The healing spell still glowed around him. “Leviathan is a sea monster...” he said, each word dragging out of his mouth like molasses. “It can control water.”

Of course Owl knew about it. His brain was a treasure trove of knowledge. Nick pouted. “You couldn’t have told me that sooner?” he grumbled.

The corners of Owl’s mouth twitched up. “... You cooled off now, partner?”

In contrast, Nick’s pout deepened. “Was that on purpose?”

“....”

Owl’s breath stuttered.

“Owl?”

It looked like he was trying to say something, but before he could force the words out, his body finally lost the war it’d been fighting against all the exhaustion and pain. The hand he’d been holding to the wound on his head fell limply to the ground as consciousness fled him.

“Owl?! What’s wrong?!” Nick frantically slapped Owl’s cheeks. “No, c’mon! OWL!”

The detective’s eyes stayed shut. The technique imbued into his bloodied gloves was still going, but his fingertips didn’t so much as twitch. Even when Nick shook him by his collar, he remained dead to the world.

Nick’s breath hitched. He dropped his head so his cheek pressed against Owl’s gilet, shuddering. “You can’t leave me all alone right now, you dummy!” he screamed.

“I believe this is checkmate.” Krinos sedately approached the pair. “Your name is... Nick, yes? Your azoth is wonderful indeed. Despair, remorse, rage, and that last little dash of anguish for spice make for quite the quality soul. I believe I will make an offering of you unto the great and powerful Heaven. I must harvest you right away.” A thin smile rose to their face. “Ah, but those wings of yours are a nuisance, what with that annoying little poison. Ritz, cut them off for me. Best to dispose of them before the harvest.”

With another snap of their fingers, Ritz jolted again. Her head tilted up to the sky, eyes hollow and lifeless. “Cold spiral...” she whispered, faint as the popping of a soap bubble. Her tail rose once more, then crashed into the ground again.

SLAM! A gigantic wave of water rose out of nothing and rushed straight for Nick. As it approached, it swelled and shifted into the form of a gigantic sharp sickle, its razor-sharp edge aimed squarely for the base of Nick’s magnificent wings.

It fell.

“For goodness’ sake, and here I thought the detective was the only princess element around here! Did being his partner make you one, too?”

But just then, a voice spoke from right over Nick’s head. He turned to look, a questioning gasp falling from his lips, in time to see several cards falling down to encircle him....

“But well, if the opponent’s using water, it’s better if I take this one.” Suddenly, without a sound, a slender young man appeared standing beside Nick.

“Louis...?!” Nick gasped.

It was indeed Louis, standing there with one finger proudly raised. “I’ll lend you a hand here, Nick,” he said. He traced his fingers along his cards, then hurled them all at the oncoming sickle. Every single card surrounding them released a furious gale of wind. The sickle instantly froze into ice that crackled and shattered into pieces, the shards clattering to the ground in a glittering little hailstorm.

Nick sat there in stunned disbelief for a few seconds before rounding on Louis. “Why are you here?!” he shouted. “It’s dangerous!”

“You’re really saying that to me?... I wasn’t really going to step in. But you landed yourself in such a pickle, I thought, well, guess I should step in. Plus, now you’ll owe me one, and I can collect dividends on that later.” Louis turned to stare Nick dead in the eye and murmured, “And honestly, I really liked fairies. Do you know that story about the boy who can fly and never grows up, the one with a fairy partner? I loved that book as a kid. Read it all the time.” He squinted. “... Just to check, you are Nick, right?”

“Who else?” Nick replied. “No one’s a cuter fairy than me!”

“Oh, yeah, you’re Nick all right.” Louis drew back his shoulders. He glanced down at the unconscious Owl and muttered to himself, “You’re too careless, you idiot.”

“Another intruder?” Krinos lightly sighed. “I’m getting rather tired of this. I don’t enjoy wasteful plans or hinderances like Mastema, you know.” They brushed their bangs to the side, perhaps a little irritably, and turned a cold stare on the newest arrival. “... I believe I’m done. I quite honestly didn’t need to linger in this zoo for as long as I did. I was a fool for trying to understand Mastema’s little hobbies. There’s no point in wasting so much time developing azoth – how foolish I was. But, well, the preparations are complete, so I’ll just harvest now and return home.”

They snapped their fingers. “Come to me, my hunters,” they called. “The entire city is now your hunting ground. Run down your persecutors as you please.”

A high-pitched noise began echoing through the air, high enough to pierce a person’s brain. Nick clapped his hands to his ears, groaning through clenched teeth. That voice reverberated in his skull... and a second later, he found himself about to kneel before Krinos. Somewhere in a different part of his heart, a signal was blaring, telling him, “Obey Krinos. You must obey Krinos.”

“Ears... hurt...!”

“Your ears?” Louis repeated.

“What is, that voice...!” Nick crouched down, moaning faintly.

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!”

A strange voice echoed from inside the building. The pair’s heads snapped in that direction in surprise.

“AAAAHHHHH!!!”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!”

One voice became two. Then three. Until soon there was a cacophonous chorus screeching from somewhere within. What the – what is that? Louis wondered. He peered into the building, through the doorway Ritz had destroyed earlier... and he could see silhouettes shifting within the darkness inside. Many silhouettes. Who are they? He squinted.

And then he unconsciously took a step back as his eyes blew wide. “It can’t be....”

The shambling, stamping crowd of silhouettes that came dragging out of that room... they weren’t human. No, these women were grotesque. Their long, ratty hair spread in thick, stiff clumps around their skulls like coral. Patches of pale blue scales had grown around their cheeks. They no longer had eyelids, their eyes wide and vacant like a fish. Their mouths split down to their throats. Their top halves were still those of human women, but their bottom halves were covered in the same scales as the ones on their faces. However, unlike Ritz and her tail, these women still had two proper legs that alternated as rhythmically as a soldier’s march as they walked along. Furthermore, each and every one held an identical razor-sharp harpoon in their hands. They looked, in short, like a battalion risen from the depths of the sea. Perhaps they were also Leviathans, just incomplete versions?

One thing was crystal clear though. “Demons...!” Louis gasped. There was nothing else he could say. There, before his eyes, was a horde of half-fish Demons. He and Nick sucked in breaths in unison at the sight.

And then a piercing scream echoed through the air, this time from the other side of the gate, followed by the wet thump of someone slipping and falling on the wet ground. “WAAAH!! D-D-D-DEMONS...!” It was a man’s voice, high-pitched and drenched in fear.

Nick glanced over to the lone man and froze. He recognized that guy! “... That’s... that’s Bigmouth Dave!” he screeched. “Hey! Get outta here!”

The guy looked at Nick, promptly let out another yelp, and scrabbled away.

One of the Demons within the horde raised her head a little, and a voice leaked out from her gaping fish mouth. “David...? Ah – David – it’s – you.” She took a step closer to the fleeing man.

The man paused. “That voice... Jane...?” he mumbled. However, when he glanced back and saw the strange figure shuffling toward him, he screamed again and scrabbled away. “H-HEEEELP! Someone! ANYONE! It’s a Demon! My wife turned into a DEMON!!”

The Demon lady raised her harpoon and chased after him. “Wait – wait – a moment – my husband – David – I won’t – ever – forgive YOU!”

“I’m sorry, Jane, I’m sorry, forgive me, please forgive me!!”

“Won’t – can’t fo-for-forgive – why should I – forgive someone – so violent – who cheated...! Who lies! Only – lies! Everything – from your mouth – is a LIE!!!” She caught up to him in the blink of an eye, her harpoon poised to spear him through.

“Ahh, no, not like that, Jane,” Krinos called from where they were watching. The Demon paused and glanced back. “We need to infect him before we can harvest,” they continued, and snapped their fingers once more.

Thick belches of silvery-violet fog poured from underneath the carriage that had been swept off down the road, which was incidentally right near where the man was as well. The rolling cloud bore down and swallowed him whole. He sputtered and coughed even as he disappeared from sight. “Ugh, wh-what is, this...?!”

And it wasn’t just one carriage, either. All of the abandoned coaches across the city were producing their own masses of the strange, wavering fog.

“C-Can’t... breathe...!” David struggled to put some distance between himself and the carriage, most likely realizing that there had to be some places far enough away from them that the fog was still thin.

But then Krinos quietly murmured, “Ritz,” and motionless, hollow-eyed Ritz waved her tail around and raised it high into the air.

“... Cold spiral.”

Every single fire hydrant in the city exploded with a deafening bang. Pillars of water rocketed into the sky one by one, forming a circle around the carriages already encircling the city.

“Excellent,” praised Krinos. “Your talent surpasses all expectations, far beyond that of those half-baked pseudo-Demons behind you. Now, to put the finishing touches on our grand hunting ground.”

The Demon Leviathan slowly raised one webbed hand. “Mist prison,” she whispered.

The water pillars burst into a fine white mist that began to spread across the city like a barrier, forming a solid wall that kept the purple-tinted fog firmly inside the heart of London. At the same time, screams began to erupt all throughout the streets from inhabitants touched by the creeping fog. Apparently there were still people out and about even in the abandoned parts of town. Like David, they fled down side streets, clawing at their throats and desperate for help.

But there was no help to be found. The struggling citizens collapsed where they stood, one by one. And one by one, their skin turned black before their eyes as they lost the remaining dregs of their humanity.

“Ugh... please, help...!”

The violet-silver fog curled around David as he pleaded and soon masked him from view entirely. As the clouds constricted his throat, his struggling hands also began to change hue, his fingertips turning jet-black as if they’d been dipped in ink and spreading up toward his wrists. Even as the darkness crept up his skin, though, he still scrambled to get away from the Demons.

“This is a specially crafted high-density fog that can infect anyone in mere seconds,” Krinos said. They pointed to the gasping man. “Go and help Jane, everyone. The liar shall be your first prey.”

The mob of Demons lurched toward the man as one, unblinking eyes fixated squarely on his pitiful form.

“Cheater – liar – awful – how awful – of you – how awful – for her –”

“Must – have words – must scold – yes – repent – repent – if you – repent....”

Mutters ran through the crowd as they hefted their harpoons.

“If you – repent – you – can be – a jewel – too!!!”

And they hurled their weapons at him.

“NO!!!” Nick screamed.

But his words were nothing more than air. The harpoons skewered David. His screech of alarm pierced the air like a siren. The man was clearly too stunned to realize what had happened at first, but then he looked down and saw what exactly was sticking out of his body, and his scream rose in both pitch and volume until the sound emanating from his throat could hardly be called human. Then, as his lungs depleted and his voice faded away, so too did his body, falling to the ground with a thud and dissolving into dust.

“Huh?”

“What was –?”

Nick and Louis stared at the spot where the man had been, flabbergasted and alarmed in equal measure. Where’d his body go? They had no idea what was going on.

While they struggled to comprehend what they’d just seen, the Demon called Jane reached her hand into the dust that had once been David and pulled a crimson stone from the pile. “Ha – haha – hahaha,” she chuckled. “So – tiny.” The laughter grew more intense, more gratified, as she held it above her head. “Tiny – so tiny – must – hunt more... more – beautiful – gems....”

“Haha – hahahaha....”

“I – will go – too.”

“So – will I.”

The tittering crowd of Demons shuffled off into the city, leaving Nick and Louis to stare after them in stunned silence.

“That was....” Louis couldn’t get the image of the red stone flashing in the Demon’s grasp out of his head. “Refined azoth, without undergoing Demonization? Is that even possible?” His eyes slid to the fog creeping along the ground toward them. “That’s... highly concentrated infectious vapor,” he muttered, his hands balling into fists. “So that’s it, then. Those carriages... all those abandoned carriages across the city, they’re machines meant to spread the Black Rose Disease, aren’t they?”

Nick jolted and glanced up. “What...? They’re spreading it...?! You said you couldn’t extract it, right?!”

“Even if a layperson couldn’t, it’s possible there’s some spell of technique somewhere that can refine them. Like at this very salon, perhaps.”

“... Ah –”

“You said you first saw them around the city a month ago, right? That’s when they put their plan into motion. The note that woman Maud passed me was written on the back of a scrap that came from a map of the area. She must’ve realized the seedy plans in place underneath the veneer of the reformation parade. What the Demon Parade was really spreading about was a hallucinogen, making it easy for people to see imaginary carriages and masking the real carriages... the poison-spreading apparatuses from sight. They’re the reason there’s been an upswing in infectees recently.”

“But... how could they make someone see something so convenient to them –” How did they control people seeing carriages specifically? Nick couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

“That person’s voice has the power to control people. Maybe they sent out a wave with their voice to the surrounding area, using those weird machines strapped to the top of those things, telling people they could see carriages while they were spreading the disease around?” Louis surmised. “Pair that with the psychedelic gas, and you’ve got yourself all the ingredients for a city full of fake carriages rolling around. Everyone would watch out for moving carriages, but not for stopped ones, right?”

“But, but I never saw anything like that, though?”

“Probably because you’re already a carrier. Those women might’ve conducted their parade to keep an eye on things so they’d know the right timing to infect everyone. If the illusions don’t work on people who’ve already got the Black Rose Disease, eventually no one in the city would see them, and then they’d start noticing all the suspicious abandoned carriages, and someone would eventually start saying they should be removed. That was the signal.”

“Signal?”

“That it was time to harvest.”

Nick sucked in a breath, eyes widening.

“And in order to harvest the entire city, they’d need underlings... they’d need hunters, and they picked the downtrodden, abused women to do it...” Louis continued. “Demonization requires a powerful surge of emotion to trigger. They gathered the dissatisfied, sad, pained women of the city and carefully had them doing their dirty work, and then they used their voice to trigger their Demonization. All to make them their hunters to harvest the new infected people in the city.” Louis glanced at Krinos. “Right?” he asked them.

Krinos met the student’s glare with perfect equanimity. “You’re a sharp boy,” they answered. It wasn’t a straight answer, but the meaning was clear.

“Why would you do something like that?!” Nick shouted.

It was Louis who answered, not Krinos. “They’re after azoth.”

“Azoth?” Nick repeated blankly. “What’s that?”

“It’s the crystallized soul within a Demon... or at least, that’s what I believe. Put simply, it’s a powerful energy source.”

“And what’re they gonna do with the stuff they harvest?”

“Who knows? The minds of their kind aren’t for us mortals to comprehend.”

“Their kind...? What do you mean?”

“If Demons exist, it stands to reason that their opposite exists as well, right?”

“Huh? What’re you... that’s....”

Nick wanted to say that was impossible, but Krinos’ whisper cut through their conversation. “There is no need for you to comprehend,” they murmured. “Everything is Heaven’s plan. You all should simply submit yourselves joyfully, unaware that it is your destiny to be offered unto Heaven... or rather, it is the destiny of the jewels growing in your bodies. Now, come to me.”

Nick and Louis tensed. That order... the second that sweet and melodic order reached their ears, so too did a compulsion to obey flood their brains.

“The... voice!” Louis gritted his teeth and shook his head, doing his utmost to resist. “Nick, watch out! Their voice has the power to enthrall you!”

To Louis, this sensation felt strangely familiar. He’d studied techniques to charm people at college, of course, but he felt like he recognized this from even before that... from a long, long time ago, in a place far, far away, when he was just a child. He remembered studying something back then, listening to someone standing in front of him. That voice in his memories sounded just as tantalizingly sweet as Krinos’.

His role hammered into his skull as he was robbed of his senses, like his mind was wrapped in a soft, silk cocoon –

“... Shit!!”

Louis shook off the memories threatening to encroach on his mind. This wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking about back then. He focused his attention on glaring at Krinos.

The salon owner was staring at Louis’ resistance with a strange expression, but they refrained from commenting and said in their usual disinterested way, “Well, it’s fine, I suppose. If I can awaken everyone in the city, my plan will be complete.” They blew out a breath. “... Mastema was unnecessarily concerned with the quality of the product, but that is complete heresy. What is so entertaining about learning human emotions.... It’s horrifically inefficient to focus so intently on raising the purity of a single stone. Quantity is far superior to quality – that is the efficient way. So I will infect everyone equally and harvest them all at once. They may be small, or dull, but I will take them all the same. Yes, superior or inferior, I will leave none behind. That is ‘equality.’ That is ‘benevolence’....”

Their sigh swirled in the air around them, and before their eyes transformed into a glowing sigil. A transmutation circle.

“Let my voice reach out... to the hearses.”

A bright red light shot out of the roof of the carriage sitting near the building, as if moved by their words. High above them, in the sky, an absolutely colossal transmutation circle spun to life, glowing an eerie, ominous red.

Nick and Louis stared up at it in alarm, twin exclamations falling from their lips, as the circle expanded further, as more circles joined the first, as all the circles overlapped and spread until the entire sky above the city was blanketed in that sick glow.

“Is that... an ancient technique...?” The sigils on the circle were old, and he couldn’t decipher everything, but Louis strung together the parts he could read, and that was enough for him to realize what he was looking at. “Is that a high-level sleeping spell?!”

Nick had cottoned on as well. “Hey, that thing’s shining above where those carriages were left! There’s so many... enough to surround the entire city....”

Louis blinked. Then his eyes widened. “Of course!” he exclaimed. “Those carriages... they don’t just spread the infection around, they’re also tools for amplifying the power of that guy’s voice to activate the spell!!”

Krinos shook their head as Louis swiveled their gaze back to them. “I would prefer if you referred to me with some respect,” they admonished. “That is a divine mechanism, one could say, to more efficiently magnify my voice so that I may awaken the people.” Once again Krinos spoke, and once again their words birthed a spell circle above them. “The time has come for the miserable control that plagues the world of man to shatter! When they hear my signal of the end, the buds of hatred growing within them will awaken...!”

As they called up to the great circle above them, their voice was amplified several times over by the machines strapped to the roofs of the carriages with a groaning sound that shook the very air.

“Wah...!” Nick staggered from the sound like it was a physical blow. He clapped his hands over his ears and curled into a ball.

“Nick?!” Louis reached out to steady him. The poor informant was stiff as a board.

Teeth gritted and face twisted in anguish, Nick gasped, “What, is this...? This is, so much, worse...! My brain’s, gonna, leak out my ears...!”

“You would do well to obey me,” Krinos whispered. “Resistance will only lead to suffering.”

The weight of their words slammed into the nearby buildings, filling the neighborhood with echoes of their displeasure. The shockwaves split the night without mercy. And as their voice wound its way through the air, yet another glowing circle appeared, this time twinkling in front of their face.

“Most Demons are slaves to their desires,” they continued. “In this hunting ground, you, little Demon, would be free to rampage as you please. Release your true self from its shackles, harvest the infected to your heart’s desire, and immerse yourself in pleasure.”

Their siren song was so, so tempting. But still Nick resisted, jaw clenched and limbs locked.

The shockwaves rolled through the air, numbing their brains, but Louis saw through their lie. He sneered, “So you’re going to put a megaphone right to everyone’s ears to wake them up? Don’t make me laugh. There’s nothing divine about that! Planting suggestions, brainwashing... no, you’re rewriting what it is to be human on a cellular level...!”

Nick glanced up at him, his face still screwed up in pain. “That, gives me, a real bad feeling....”

“Yeah, no kidding. This is a person who could forcibly turn a sparrow into an eagle with a single word.”

“And, turn a human, into a Demon?”

Louis hesitated. He didn’t even want to entertain the thought, but... he couldn’t afford not to. “If someone is even the slightest bit infected, then yes, they could probably influence the ‘brainwashed cells’ to multiply rapidly and instantaneously transform someone into a Demon. Usually a strong surge of emotion is the trigger for Demonization, but that wouldn’t matter here. Far from it, actually – there’s even a twisted chance that they could even alter a person’s body or their original Demon’s species. Those women all looked like water Demons, for example.” He clicked his tongue. “‘London Bridge’.... So this is what she meant by ‘don’t become like how the song ends.’”

The idea that the smoking watchman in the nursery rhyme became a human sacrifice to hold the bridge up was a baseless rumor, but all around them, people were inhaling smoke and becoming Demons. They truly had become sacrifices to be harvested and offered.

Maud had foreseen what was to come. She had tried to tell them to run.

“Once they give the signal, every infectee within the technique’s range will Demonize at the same time, and the women they already Demonized will harvest the newborn Demons,” Louis continued. “... It’ll be hell on earth, and it won’t end there. Panic will start to spread throughout the country... and across the borders, too.”

“That’s...!” Nick shuddered at the horrific thought. One shaking hand reached out to grip Louis’ sleeve. “What do we do? How do we stop it?!”

Louis quietly shook his head. “We can’t.”

“Huh...?”

Louis raised his hands to the sky in a hopeless gesture. “Without some amazing, heroic special move or something, nothing we do can destroy that gigantic circle.”

 “... No....” Nick’s face crumpled. Then, with a scowl, he lurched up and grabbed Louis by the collar. “What’s wrong with you?!” he screamed. “How can you just say that?! Owl would never!! He’d never give up like that!!”

Louis looked at Nick flatly. “I’m not Owl,” he simply replied. He pulled a pocket watch out of his pocket, checked the time, and stowed it away again. “I’m not a detective, and I’m no hero. I don’t have any secret ultimate skills up my sleeves. I don’t particularly care about saving random strangers. Once all my magic tricks are used up, I split.” He tugged Nick’s hands off of him none too gently.

Nick stared at him open-mouthed for a few seconds. He hadn’t expected him to be... so cold. His teeth gritted. “But you came to save me, didn’t you?” he pointed out.

“Yes, because I thought I saw some merit in it.” Louis smoothed his rumpled collar and adjusted his necktie, then turned once more to Krinos.

They smiled. “Such graciousness is a virtue,” they said, then breathed out yet another transmutation circle. With each new layer they sighed into existence, the energy above them swelled in intensity. “I enjoy rational folk. As a special treat, I will make you a beautiful Demon. You must have imbibed enough of the fog by now.” They held a hand out to Louis. “You have the distinct honor of making direct contact with a holy hand. Be grateful.”

Louis faced Krinos. He took a step toward them.

“Louis!” Nick lunged to try and stop him, but he couldn’t reach.

Step by step Louis approached Krinos. His arm rose, ready to take their hand.

“But as long as I’ve still got a trick up my sleeve, I’ll keep fighting!”

And he slapped it away.

“... What did you just say?” Krinos’ eyes widened at the sudden rejection, the first sign of cracks in their composure since this whole mess had started.

BOOOOOM!!!

An explosion blasted through the air, followed by a flash of crimson light and a dense plume of smoke outside the gate.

“What?!” Krinos whipped their head around to find that their carriage was on fire. A crackling bonfire enveloped the entire coach.

Nick was similarly bewildered. “What just happened...?” he wondered aloud, glancing between Louis and the burning vehicle.

They all watched as the light emanating up from the carriage vanished as it burned. The technique it was projecting into the air was gone. “My divine apparatus...!” cried Krinos. They were fully flustered now.

Another explosion boomed, this time somewhere off in the distance. Then another, and another, until the air fairly shook with the blasts. Another layer of the spell vanished with each successive outburst.

“Ahh, I guess the firepower was a little strong,” Louis commented as he listened, as casual as anything. “I’m not that well-versed in fire alchemy – must’ve gotten the composition wrong.”

As the sigils began to vanish, the voice echoing through the air also faded away. Nick felt the oppressive force keeping him pinned disappear all at once.

Krinos turned a fearsome glare on Louis. “What have you DONE, you miserable wretch?!”

Louis blatantly ignored them to focus on Nick instead. “You know, these cards also have timers,” he said, twirling one such card around his fingers. “I went looking for all the abandoned carriages based on your map and planted these cards inside them. I was running short on time, so I did ask your adorable little red riding hood girl to help, though.”

“... My map...?”

“Yes, because you kindly noted down their precise locations. Your detective’s illegible scrawls were also handy – ‘presumed sphere of influence,’ ‘possible spots to hide carriages near locations of parade sightings,’ and such. Thanks to that, I was able to look for other factories as well, and I visited one such place being constructed by high-level alchemy the likes of which I’d never seen before.” A tiny smile tickled the edges of his mouth for a split second. “Ahh, of course, if nothing ended up happening I was going to disable them all remotely, I’m not a bomber or anything. That said, I’m glad all my effort didn’t go to waste.” He held a folded paper out to Nick. “If I hadn’t found all the stuff in that new factory that revealed what was really going on, it would’ve been a lot harder to destroy everything.”

Nick accepted the paper and unfolded it. It was the map Owl had jotted his notes down on. A tiny gasp escaped him, and for a brief moment a smile threatened to split his face, but in the next second he pulled his mouth back down into a pout. “Did you nick this? Lousy thief!”

Louis clicked his tongue, waggling his finger with each click. “Please don’t call me that? It sounds so crude.”

“A thief’s a thief. What should I call you, then?”

“Well... the best thing would be –”

A whisper through the roaring blaze of flame interrupted him. “My wonderful plan....”

Nick and Louis turned to look at Krinos. The salon owner was standing in front of the burning carriage. They were trembling. “How... dare you ruin my wonderful plan....” They raised their head and glared daggers at Louis with wild eyes. “I have a suitable punishment in mind for those who would defy Heaven’s will...” they murmured. As they opened their mouth wide, another layered spell circle twinkled in front of their face. “For an unforgivable sin such as this, I will turn you into a Demon in the most painful way imaginable and gouge your heart from your chest...!”

They raised their hands in Louis’ direction and clenched them tight. Louis evaded them by a hair and replied with a carefree chuckle, “That’s fine, I don’t need your forgiveness. I know Byron will forgive me, at least. That’s all I really want.”

Krinos paused. “Did you say Byron?” they whispered.

“He’s my parent, and I’d guess he’s you guys’ enemy, too.” Louis twisted his body and raised one leg overhead to deliver a powerful kick to Krinos’ shoulder. As he knocked them off balance, he whipped a card out of his pocket and slapped it onto their body.

“Nngh...?!” The card floated around for a moment, but in the next instant it mercilessly rocketed into the ground with a resounding SLAM, shoving Krinos’ body into the dirt. They wheezed as they scrabbled in place, as firmly stuck as a butterfly specimen pinned to a wall. The card had them affixed to the ground; they couldn’t get back up.

“Ahh...” sighed Louis. “Yeah, earth techniques are hard, too. I still can’t get them properly working. I should study gravity some more.”

“Damn... you...!!”

“So how does it feel to prostrate yourself on the ground like that? It’s probably your first time, isn’t it?”

The card holding Krinos down held an earth technique inside of it, one that increased the effects of gravity several times over. They were obviously thrown for a loop for a moment, but it wasn’t long before they started trying to push themself back up, their chest puffed out. “You think, you can hold me...?!”

“Oi, don’t push it,” warned Louis.

Krinos didn’t stop, though. They struggled against the burdensome gravity keeping them immobile. And as they did, an ominous, almost metallic creaking sound started echoing around their shoulders and neck.

Louis blinked. “Is that machinery?” he mumbled. That sound... that meant Krinos’ body wasn’t human, it was....

“A technique forged by mere mortals could never hope to overpower me...!!”

With a horrifying crack in their spine, Krinos forced themself to rise. The chugging and clacking of gears grinding together emanated from their form. And as they slowly worked their way up, the card on the ground began to smoke and char at the edges. Krinos’ power was warring with the power of the card, and the force was tearing them both apart.

“‘Mere mortals,’ huh...” Louis murmured to himself. He pulled another card out of his pocket. “Well, what if I tossed the power of the divine creation I brought along with me into the mix?” He flicked the card and called, “Come on out! You’re up!”

And then a shadow hopped out of one of the trees around the building. “I’ll help, too...!”

It was a young girl. As she leaped into the air, the card flashed next to her, and she floated down as gently as a feather, as if gravity had decided to ignore her. She gently landed next to Louis and held out her hand. “With my... my power...!”

Krinos saw the young girl clinging to Louis’ back. They saw her red robe fluttering in the breeze. And their eyes nearly popped out of their skull.

original written by Nagaya Kawaji here

[jenny-bridget-writes]

Iota (Part 7)

“Uh, guys,” said Mardan, “There’s something back here.”

“Is it a bear?”

“No, it’s not an animal. It’s… just come and see.”

Mardan’s voice didn’t have its usual excitement. Instead, she sounded somewhat frightened. Ashiko and Sundara followed her deeper into the cave, until the blue light of her glaive was matched by a strange blue glow from a set of runic patterns on the back wall of the tunnel. The glow didn’t come from Scoria. It looked almost like the phosphorescent glow of a deep-sea jellyfish. The black surface the runes were etched into felt smooth like glass to Ashiko’s touch, but it was completely opaque. It was almost like a massive screen.

“Did you not notice this when you came before?” asked Sundara.

“No, it wasn’t there before!” Mardan said, “I think it was when you used your cell phone.”

“My cell phone?” asked Ashiko.

"When you made your call, suddenly the whole rock wall just turned into this thing.”

“Do either of you read runes?” asked Ashiko.

“Not a bit,” Sundara said.

“I’ve never seen these letters before,” said Mardan, “but I can read this language. It’s not Iotan, but it’s in my brain somehow.”

“What does it say?”

“It doesn’t translate directly, but it’s some type of warning. Almost like police tape. It’s something about detecting a signal.”

“You have police where you come from?” Sundara asked.

“Yeah. We have plumbing, too.”

She reached out to touch it. The temptation was too difficult to resist. Like a bald man’s shiny head, it was ripe for the touching. As her fingertips made contact with the smooth surface of what was once a wall, the black material bristled and boiled around her touch. Her hand passed right through the barrier, her momentum carrying her body through the rest of the way. Ashiko reached out to grab Mardan, and her metal fingertips sunk into the reformed black shell. The strange semi-liquid material pushed her fingers back out and closed itself again.

“Mardan!” Ashiko said, “Mardan, can you hear me!” She slammed her metal fist into the glassy black surface, but that did little more than dent her knuckles. She threw her weight against it, but the wall didn’t move an inch. She looked back at Sundara. “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?”

“How do we help?” Sundara said, “We should get back from that thing before it swallows one of us!”

“Is that all you care about? Yourself? Survival?”

“Yes, actually. It is.”

“So if you were Mardan right now, you’d want me to leave you in there?”

“No!”

“You!-” Ashiko stopped herself. Her finned ears laid flat against her head. Arguing would get them nothing but wasted time. She rewound her mental tape-player and reviewed what had happened. “Why did Mardan fall right through it, but we couldn’t follow her? Well, I couldn’t follow her. You were over there.”

“Was that a rhetorical question or do you want my two pence?”

“I have a few ideas, but I want to hear yours first.”

“I think we should leave.”

“Shut up and get me a blowtorch! We’re melting her out of there.”

“Where are we going to find a blowtorch around here?”

“I’ll make one!”

“HOW?!”

“I’LL FIGURE IT OUT!”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Finding Her

Part TWO of The Devil’s Angel :: Part One

Pairing :: soft dark!Matthew Murdock x latine OFC  (gonna try it out for this chapter rn. Let me know what you think about it)

Warnings :: DARK/MATURE THEMES. 18+ Content/SMUT, Slightly possessive behavior(not much rn since it’s the beginning), Religious talk, Religious Imagery, NSFW activities in a CHURCH, Slight depression(reader is sad)

Word Count :: 2,670

Summary :: Matt runs into the mysterious woman from church again

A/N :: YES I GOT THIS UP RELATIVELY QUICKLY. Don’t expect it to happen again, sorry. My motivation and free time comes and goes like the roadrunner from looney tunes.

ANYWAY. I decided to change it from a reader inset to an OFC, but that was mainly because I preferred putting a name rather than (Y/N) when writing in the third person. It just seemed off/broke the flow for me when writing. I didn’t use any physical descriptions of her minus her being shorter than him. Please let me know if you like this or not, if a majority of people don’t like it, I’ll revise it into a reader insert and continue writing it as such. Thank you.

The second Matt walked into the charity gala, an intoxicating scent hit him. It smelled of honey, spice, and ripe apples. At first, he wanted to run straight to the scent until he was pulled back to reality by Foggy complaining about all the suits they’d have to kiss up to and play nice with.

Matt smiled, pretending to listen to Foggy and the men he was speaking with. Meanwhile, his attention was being pulled away by her scent. In a room full of chatter, he easily managed to find her gentle voice.

No longer able to stand idly by, Matt excused himself to find the woman from the church. It didn’t take long for him to make his way through the finely dressed guests of the event and find her. She stood next to a man a few years older than her. Her demeanor was meek compared to him, who carried himself with confidence. She stood only a few inches behind him, clearly uninterested in who the man was speaking with. 

When she spotted Matt out of the corner of her eye, she tensed up and her heart began to beat rapidly. Her hands tightened around the satin fabric on the sides of her dress. She clenched her jaw, upset to see him at the party. She took a deep breath, her heart slowing down as she calmed herself.

The man next to her seemed to take note of her small reaction, glancing over confused to see what had caused this. He smiled once he saw Matt. He excused himself from who he was speaking with, walking over to the lawyer and dragging her along.

“You must be the noble blind lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen, Matthew Murdock of Nelson and Murdock,” The man stated. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Cyrus Itzcoatl-” 

Matt had heard the name ‘Cyrus Itzcoatl’ before once briefly, though he couldn’t remember where. Cyrus Itzcoatl was the head of Itzcoatl Medical and Protection, an organization more prominent on the southwest coast. They helped rehabilitate those with mental disorders while also training guards for special protection services. A rather odd pairing to most, however, not many questioned them due to their stellar work.

“-and to the right of me is my lovely little sister Solina.”

A smile naturally made its way to her face and she greeted him warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murdock.”

“Please, call me Matt, and the pleasure’s all mine.” Matt turned his head towards Cyrus, though he was focused on Solina. “Mr. Itzcoatl-”

“If I can call you Matt, you can call me Cyrus. Feel free to speak comfortably.”

Matt nodded lightly. “Noted. So, Cyrus, I’ve heard a rumor or two that you’re planning on opening up a center here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Cyrus let out a low whistle, nudging his sister playfully. “News sure travels fast, doesn’t it Solina?”

“Indeed it does.”

“Can I ask why? I mean, you sure are far away from home out here.”

“True, we’re out of our comfort zone, but that's good. It means there are more opportunities for us and this city. Violent crime rates drop by about twenty percent in the area’s we build our centers and property crime drops nearly forty percent.”

Matt raised his brows in surprise. “Those are certainly large numbers.”

“Indeed they are. I’d go into the logistics of it, but I'm afraid I’d bore my sister if I did so.” He leaned closer to Matt, whispering, “She’s not very interested in the family business.”

Solina rolled her eyes. “Well in that case, don’t mind me. I’m going to take a seat with Papa Arturo and Mama Mariam so they’re not pestered by the other guests.”

“Alright, have fun with them and remember to behave.” Cyrus sounded playful, but Matt could hear the hint of sternness in his voice. He was ordering her.

“I always do,” She muttered before walking away.

Matt nearly followed until Cyrus began to explain how Itzcoatl M&P was able to lower crime rates. He listened half-heartedly, focused on Solina’s heels clicking against the floor while she walked away.

She headed towards the left-back of the room then walked down a small hallway before entering the stairway. She sat down on one of the steps, letting out a shaky breath. 

“Why are you right…? Why are you always right?” She whispered to herself.

“Some are confused by the agreement we make with the city and its law enforcement, but they stop questioning us once they see the results.” Cyrus patted Matt’s shoulder, dragging his attention back. “Anyway, I’ll see you around Matt. If I don’t see your partner tonight, tell him I said hi.”

“Will do,” Matt replied.

With Cyrus walking away to speak with the more wealthy guests and possible donors, Matt didn’t spare a single second. He got to the stairway as quickly as possible without catching anyone's attention. He needed to figure out who this woman was exactly and how she was engulfing his mind.

The second he opened the door, Solina rose to her feet and turned to see who had entered. She stood strong, hands balled into fists and glaring up at him.

“I warned you to stay away,” She spat.

He let out a small chuckle. “Technically, you said you’d pray for us to never meet again.”

She scoffed. “And you didn’t pick up on the hint?”

Matt licked his lips, his interest in her growing. When he first met her, she was timid, quiet. Now, she was hostile, aggressive. He wondered which part was real and which was an act.

“I’m leaving, and you better not follow me or try to find me again. Or else.”

She tried to step past him, but he wouldn’t budge, blocking her exit.

Matt called her bluff. “Or else what? One of our devils shall consume the other’s angel?”

She let out a small huff, gulping hearing her own words again. She turned, ready to go up the stairs to find another exit.

He grabbed her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. Just like the first time he touched her, a wave of electricity shot through him upon making contact with her skin. Her heart picked up a bit, head snapping around to look at him.

“What do you want?”

“I want answers.”

Solina was silent, thinking. “I’ll answer one question, then after that you let me go.”

“Deal.”

“Good. So, what is it?”

“How come I can’t get you out of my head?”

Her heart picked up again, beating much faster this time. She shook her head quickly, turning her head down. “I-I don’t know.”

Matt lowered his head closer to hers, grip on her arm tightening. “You’re lying.”

She tried to yank herself free in hopes of getting away. Instead, she ended up being dragged closer to him. Her cheeks began to burn and she pressed her hands firmly against his chest to give them some distance.

Matt sniffed the air, noting how she began to fidget her legs. There was now a savory-sweet scent coming from her. His mouth suddenly went dry, an urge to devour her burning in him.

He managed to hold back and instead grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “What are you?”

“A wretch.”

Stunned by the answer, he loosened his grip, allowing her to barely escape his clutches. He pursued her shortly after to no avail. She managed to run away, coming up with the excuse that she didn’t feel well and needed to rest at home.

Matt was disappointed, but he wasn’t upset because now he knew who she was and could easily find her again.

-

Despite being shorter in stature, Solina had Matt pressed up against the wall of the stairway. She used her body to trap him, her chest pushed up against his.

She had one hand reaching up to cup his cheek, with the other slowly cupping his erection through the fabric of his pants.

"Is this all for me?" She asked with a devilish smile.

Matt took a sharp breath in feeling her sink her hand into his trousers and past his briefs. Her hand wrapped around his length, slowly beginning to stroke him.

"You're the only one who can get me this worked up," He managed to breathe out.

She pulled her hand away from his face, slowly sinking down to her knees. She pulled his cock free, continuing to stroke his shaft with both hands.

The second he felt her warm breath near the tip, Matt shut his eyes in anticipation.

Opening his eyes, he woke up, realizing he was having another dream about her. He let out a deep sigh of disappointment. He was starting to get frustrated.

He knew she was hiding something important from him, and despite her not wanting to see him, Matt needed answers.

-

Though Foggy and Karen questioned researching Itzcoatl M&P, the two helped Matt, even if he was refusing to tell them why. The company was clean, nearly too clean.

They helped rehabilitate those deemed harmful to society or themselves, gave criminals the foundations to start a brand new life, and employed former soldiers that were struggling with coming back home. They were secretive as to how their methods worked, insisting it was a family secret.

All the trio could find were two specs of dirt.

The first was the fact that a majority of gangs that were near their centers were either wiped out or sent to prison under the conviction of murdering the other. The gangs that stuck around apparently had members enter the care of Itzcoatl M&P, typically for addiction.

The second was a man named Romero Itzcoatl, Cyrus’ and Solina’s uncle. He was mentioned before in the company up until Arturo Itzoatl took up guardianship of his grandkids. Due to an unfortunate car accident killing the siblings’ parents, they were placed under his care, and shortly after, Romero seemed to disappear.

“Besides a slew of death and arrest following them along with this uncle of theirs, they’re saints,” Foggy said with a shrug.

“Who hires ex-military and trains them for security,” Karen pointed out.

“They want only the best so they can charge a pretty penny.”

“And they’ve set up here. Has gang violence spiked recently since their arrival?” Matt questioned.

Foggy shook his head. “Besides a drunk trucker accidentally running down a slew of bikers, everyone’s been quiet.”

Karen tapped her pen against the table. “Do you think they take care of the gangs?”

Matt let out a small sigh. “It’s just a thought, but gang-on-gang violence isn’t something random. It happens all the time, plus they seem to be picking hot spots.” He stood up from his seat. “Thanks for your help guys.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, there was someone I was hoping to meet up with before it got too late.”

“Be safe,” Foggy said.

“I always am.”

His friend scoffed. “Sure you are.”

-

It was far too easy for Matt to locate a townhome on the outskirts of Hell’s Kitchen that belonged to the Itzcoatls. He was surprised by the lack of security around the home. There were only four lightly armed guards outside, two at the front entrance and two at the back entrance. They weren’t patrolling, merely idly standing by the doors while talking about how cold it was or how the city was a dump.

Inside, he could hear two men talking on the first floor, one being Cyrus and the other an older man Matt presumed was his grandfather, Arturo. The two sat in the dining room with three guards in the room with them. On the second floor, he heard the soft snores and breathing of five sleeping people.

Lastly, on the third floor, there was nearly complete silence minus the faint whistling of a flute. It didn’t sound like it was a recording, nor did he hear the heartbeat of the one playing it. The more he listened to the melancholy melody that was playing, the louder it grew. The whistling grew louder and louder until he could no longer bear to listen.

He pressed his hands firmly against his ears to block the noise, relieving him of the pain from the noise. In this moment of silence, he gained a moment of clarity.

‘What am I doing here?’

Something was off. Not just about the situation, but also about him. There was a strong urge within him, beckoning him to sneak into the house and find Solina. It wasn’t his need for answers, rather a sinful need that could only be satisfied by her.

Her warning rang through his head. “One of our devils shall consume the other’s angel.”

Matt balled his hands into fists, letting out a small growl. He walked away from the townhome, deciding it would be best to keep his distance for now. She knew something he didn’t, and to avoid hurting her, he had to listen to her words.

-

“He’s left,” A guard informed the two men.

Arturo and Cyrus stopped talking, their faces each dropping in disappointment.

“His conscience got the better of him. Pah!” Cyrus slammed his hand on the table.

“Cyrus, calm down,” Arturo said calmly.

“How can I when she’s pushing him away?”

“We merely need to have a talk with the girl and remind her what happens if she doesn’t obey-”

Before Arturo could finish his sentence a blood-curdling cry could be heard all the way from the third floor. It lasted a few seconds before stopping.

Cyrus slumped back in his seat. “No need. It seems they’re already handling it.” He ran his hand down his face, a sigh leaving him. “She’s starting to resist more, the fool.”

“She’ll give up soon, it’s easier,” Arturo grumbled. “She can’t ignore them forever. They’ll drive her insane until they’re obeyed.”

Arturo knew how their family’s gift worked, once being the possessor of said gift until his body had grown too old to keep the divine beings on their leashes. The longer Solina tried to keep them silenced, the stronger they’d get once they were released.

Their voices would ring in her ears, making it difficult to focus on anything besides their screeching. No matter where she went, she’d see a figure of light or a blur of a shadow, letting her know she was never alone. Even when she was asleep, she couldn’t find peace because they would infect her mind.

There was only one place she could go to for peace. A place of worship.

-

The car pulled up to Clinton Church.

“I told you, any church but this one,” Solina reminded her guard.

Rodri turned his head back to Solina, giving her an apologetic look. “Your grandfather ordered me to only let you come to this one.”

She shut her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

‘You can’t fight us.’ ‘We will have him.’ ‘Your fate is already sealed.’ ‘You can’t run away.’

“Fine. Anything for a moment of silence,” She said in defeat.

She walked out of the car, entering the church in a rush to end the constant nagging. She sat in a nearly empty church, spotting a few people out of the corner of her eye waiting for confessional. She thought about the last time she had gone to confess, debating if it was even necessary for her to do so. She was a vessel, unable to make choices of her own free will. Still, the actions she made were hers.

She sat in the small both, staring forward into the darkness.

“Forgive me father, not for the sins I have committed, but for the one I am about to,” She said barely above a whisper. Her eyes began to water, her voice grew shaky. “God has punished me with a blessing that forces my hand to not only obey him but also the devil.”

“What are you going to do my child?”

“Tempt an angel to fall from grace.”

-

Tags  ::

@spookyanabarnes​ @inpraizeof​

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Fourteen)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption.

Notes: This chapter took forever for me to write but then suddenly I wrote it very quickly hahaha. Please look forward to the last arc of the story. Enjoy the chapter:) Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev @marplest @calling-dips-on-j-hope @lecavivien @fancycollectormoon @mawwnsterr @siredsong @happyhrsme @storms-and-stars-blog @mingi-banana @soeur-de-ame

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous---Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“A long, sweet night.”

“A long, sweet night.”

“A long, sweet night.” You decide to repeat out loud. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Well, you know what it could mean. But there’s no way, right? You hold your phone close to your face, your features lit up with the dim blue light. Your eyes squint as you read over his text again and again.

You start to feel the crushing weight of his text, his words causing an undeniable pain in your chest. Your heart beginning to become chipped away piece by piece, each letter of his words cutting at it.

“Now you fight.”

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, her words making you grip your phone tightly in your hand. She’s right. If you don’t fight then you’re running away aren’t you? This is the point. This is the point she is talking about, this is the point where if you do nothing you are now a coward.

“You did the work honey.”

Yes, you did. Growth is forever but you’ve come a long way. You think you have done enough. You are enough. You have done so much and you deserve this, you deserve a happy ending. An ending you have worked for.

You sit at your dining room table, your phone in hand still. You finally click it off and set it down onto the wooden table, it lands with a thump but you don’t even flinch. There isn’t currently anything you can say to him. You have no response. You know that was the end of the conversation. But you know this isn’t the end. It can’t be. It won’t be.

You stand from the table and drag your feet towards the living room and head towards the couch. It’s cold when you plop down onto it, the cushion doing nothing to make you feel comforted. A long, sweet night, huh? Well, you don’t want this sweet night to end.

~~~~~~

“y/n you’ve apologized like 8 times already,” Marcus chuckles, “You don’t have to say sorry anymore.”

“I know, I know.” You bring the croissant to your mouth and take a generous bite. “I really didn’t mean to run out on you though.”

It’s early the next morning, you are treating Marcus to breakfast as a way to apologize for running out on him the night before. He’s kind and understanding as usual.

“So you ever really going to explain?” Marcus murmurs as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Explain?” You peak over the croissant, your eyes finding his. “Explain what?”

“Come on.” He sets the coffee mug down, “Him. Tell me about the guy who…you know, has your heart or whatever.” Marcus looks down at his hands that are firmly gripping the mug, his cheeks turning a nice, soft pink.

“Oh.” You say, “That.”

Your eyes lower until they are set on the floor, you notice little things like the cracks in the tile. You finally bring the croissant back to the plate on the table, it’s half eaten state taunting you.

“Well,” your eyes find Marcus, “That’s a long story.” You admit softly.

“You gave me a very brief explanation the night I asked you out,” Marcus blinks at you, “But I don’t really understand the…depth…I guess you could say.”

“I kind of told you about the island…” That’s where you decide to start, “But I barely got into my trip to Korea.”

“Right.”

“Well, things didn’t go as smoothly as I had wanted.”

“Are you in love y/n?” Marcus turns redder than a ripe tomato. “You don’t have to an—”

“Yes.” You tell him bluntly. “I am.”

Marcus looks taken aback for a moment, his expression slightly surprised until it’s softening.

“I see. Well, it’s not like I didn’t know. But you two aren’t even talking right?”

“Right.” You admit, your breathing picking up just the slightest. “Barely, anyway.”

“He’s an idiot.” Marcus lets the words spill out between his lips.

“Why is that?”

“I just…I wouldn’t ever let…I would never let you go.” Marcus’s blush deepens as he avoids your eyes now. You can’t help but let a small somewhat pitiful smile paint itself on your lips.

“Well…” you bite down on your bottom lip, “It isn’t that easy.”

“Why not?” Marcus shakes his head. “If he really loved you—”

“Sorry Marcus.” You cut in. “But I think you are overstepping a little bit…”

Marcus scrunches his brows together.

“How so?”

“You don’t know the full story or his perspective.” You tell him, your eyes going back to the floor. “I’m not perfect in this.”

“You are perf—”

“No.” you say sternly, your hard eyes going back to his. “I’m not.”

You push the plate forward on the table, the sound of it gliding against the wood making you shiver.

“You just don’t…you don’t know what I put him through…” you say bitterly, “It wasn’t kind of me, I wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t the best, I wasn’t a lot of things. But I have accepted that and moved forward with that.” You tell him honestly.

“Shouldn’t he try harder…if he loves you?” Marcus raises his voice just the slightest, “If.”

“I don’t know how he feels anymore.” You feel yourself grow tired from this conversation, “But it doesn’t change things.”

“Sorry y/n.” Marcus looks down at his hands again. “I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have brought this up—”

“I talked to him last night.” You blurt out. “I want to see him. I want to try.”

“But why?” Marcus is growing tired as well. It’s clear he isn’t seeing things the way you do.

“Because he’s my soulmate.”

~~~~~~~

You lay on your stomach, the soft feeling of your bed making you feel so warm. Your phone is in your hands as you struggle to press the ‘call’ button. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, it’s just Yuna yet you are having a hard time.

“Come on y/n.” you whisper to yourself. “Come on.”

You nibble on your lips, waiting for your fingers to find the courage to press the god damn button. It shouldn’t be this hard, no. If it’s meant to be it should be easy.

You press the ‘call’ button and wait not so patiently as it rings and rings on speaker. She’s taking too long, you think. Then finally—

“y/n!!!” Yuna exclaims loudly, her voice booming throughout your small room. “What’s up girl!”

“Yuna…” you hesitate to say her name, “Your birthday…two weeks…”

“Yes?” She tilts her head to the side through the camera. “It is?”

“Is that offer still on the table?” you gulp. “For my flight.”

“Huh? You mean to fly you out here for my b-day?”

“Yeah…” You gulp again, “If it’s okay—”

“Wait!” Yuna yells out with an excited smile, “Jiwoo, get over here!!!!”

“Jiwoo is with you too?” You can’t help the small smile. “You should have said something.”

“Jiwoo! y/n wants to come for my birthday!”

“What???” Jiwoo’s voice is heard, “Eh?”

“y/n..” Yuna points the camera at her mouth, her lips curving into a wide smile. “You really want to come here?”

You nod your head eagerly, a timid expression on your face.

“I do. I want to see you and celebrate you, of course…but I also…” your words get quieter and quieter as you speak.

“You want to see him, don’t you?” Yuna asks softly, “I’m rooting for you.”

“Me too!” Jiwoo says with her fist in the air, “You got this!”

“Guys.” You whine cutely, “Thanks.”

You chat with your friends for a little while longer, you tell them all about Taehyung’s song and his words to you through text.

“It’s definitely not the end girl.” Yuna pouts, “You guys still have so much more to give…”

“It sounds like your mom really came through too…” Jiwoo points out, “She makes a good point.”

“Yeah,” you agree easily, “I just have to figure out where Taehyung stands in all of this.” You look down at the duvet that covers your bed. “I’m going to really put myself out there but there is a chance I will be rejected.” You tell them with a softness in your voice. “He is moving forward and that could really mean without me.”

“I hate to admit it but I think you are right.” Jiwoo murmurs, “He’s really put a lot of effort to move past everything.”

“I know.” You bite down on your lip, just hard enough that you feel something. “I know.”

“But don’t lose you momentum girl!” Yuna cheers you on, “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you.”

“You think so?” You laugh lightly. “I think I might be the one who loses my mind.”

You swing your legs in the air back and forth until you lay them down on your bed. You nibble on your lips again as you think about it, seeing him. “Yeah. I’m going to lose it.” You laugh again.

“He hasn’t RSVP’d to my party yet…I’ll ask him about it this week when we all go out.” Yuna tells you with a tiny smile on her lips. “I won’t say anything about you coming.”

“Thanks…I’ll tell him myself.”

You finally bid farewell to your friends, clicking the end button on your screen and setting your phone down on your cozy bed. You’re really doing this. This is really happening. Does he really believe you two were just ships in the night? Was your time together really just the equivalent of a long, sweet night?

You roll off your bed and head towards your desk, you pull out your rolling chair and take a seat. Your desk is covered in papers from work, your journal, small decorations, a pile of glittery gel pens and a half drank Starbucks drink. It’s kind of a mess. You decide to clean up a bit and then take your journal and a purple glitter pen and start writing.

“Time and timing is everything in this universe. Everything pans out the way it’s meant to…I do believe that. I have to believe that. I have to have that kind of faith. But I can’t just stand by and let the universe do all the work, can I? I should put some level of effort too…right? Is time in my hands?”

You stop writing, the pen staying still, bleeding its purple ink into your paper. Is time in your hands? You bring the pen to your lips and chew on the end, your teeth digging into the plastic.

“Is it?” you repeat out loud.

~~~~~

Wow, you haven’t felt this nervous in a while. Your nerves are absolute killers right now. They are shaking you to your death and throwing you over a cliff, they are slapping you in the face repeatedly, they are making you feel so completely helpless.

Your hand trembles furiously as you hold your stupid phone, your whole body is vibrating in terror. You fly out in the morning and you haven’t told Taehyung that you are going to Korea yet. He has no idea that you two will be breathing the same air soon. You try your hardest to take a few deep breaths but you fall short, your breathing quick and sharp instead.

The boys promised not to say anything and you’re counting on it. Jimin is on the verge of tears from his excitement, he’s been waiting for you to visit for the past year. Jungkook is anticipating your arrival as well, his bunny grin imprinted in your mind when you told them you for sure were going. The rest of the guys cheered and sent you a million texts about how happy they are. Everyone knows about your upcoming arrival…everyone but him.

After staring at his message thread for what seems like an eternity you finally decide to chicken out. You click your phone off and throw it on your sofa, it slides against the cushions and somehow falls between the cracks. But you don’t care. You’re happy your phone is out of sight.

You decide to take a walk in the city, the evening air is brisk and the sky is glowing in pinks and purples. You tug your jean jacket closer together as you walk through a cool breeze, it feels nice actually. Like you can breathe again. Your phone is still lost between your couch cushions and you couldn’t feel happier about it.

You decide to stroll around until you find yourself at Cozy Coffee, the shop making you feel welcomed and at home. You head to the counter and order a latte, the warm drink making you melt into some slightly pathetic puddle. Only pathetic because at the end of the day you know you are just avoiding what you must do. But somehow you approve. You just want to enjoy this evening before your trip to Korea. You have no idea what this trip might hold. You have no idea of the experiences you will encounter. You just really have no idea.

You sip on your latte in the corner of the shop, your mind starting to ease as you down your drink. Are you really prepared for this? Are you ready to face him? To be honest, you haven’t even thought about what you might say…you just know the first step is seeing him. Face to face.

You finally head back to your apartment, the sky now lit up by the illuminating moon, guiding you on your path. You feel relaxed again, the moon giving you peaceful energy. You know this feeling is only temporary so you try to embrace it.

Your apartment is chilly inside, the air matching the air from outside. You head towards the thermostat and turn it up a few degrees. You rub your arms in attempt to warm yourself as you head towards you sofa, you look at it with disdain as you remember your phone hiding in its cushions.

You take a deep breath and lift one of the cushions up and search for the damned thing. Your hand finds it and you throw it on the other side of the sofa as you place the cushion back in its place. You finally take a seat and reach for your phone, you take another deep breath as you click it on, seeing you have a missed called from Jimin and also your mother.

You decide to call your mom first, you video chat her right away, waiting for her to answer.

“Hi sweetie.” Your moms voice comes through your phones speaker. “I tried calling a little while ago.”

“Sorry…” you mumble lamely. “What’s up?”

“I know you leave for your trip tomorrow and just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Your mouth opens a little…like you are going to speak but really it’s just from the pleasant surprise you are feeling from your mothers words. The past couple of weeks you two have been chatting more and more.

“I feel…” you feel your body tense, you try to take a deep breath but it feels mostly impossible. “Mom.” Your bottom lip begins to tremble, “I’m scared.”

“Things like this are scary honey.” She breathes out, her eyes soft and on you. “But you aren’t living life unless you are taking leaps of faith.”

“There is a strong chance he won’t want me.” You tell her, your breaths shaky. “Can I handle that?”

“Honey…” Your mom closes her eyes for a second before they’re back on you. “You can handle anything. I believe that. I know in the past…it might not have seemed that way but you’ve grown so much. You are so strong y/n. And I know you want to make things work…” she pauses as you try to calm your breathing, you are trying not to cry. “But…” your mother continues, “But you are complete on your own too. And you will find some epic love or whatever no matter with who. You deserve it so therefore you will have it.”

“He’s my love, mom.” You finally feel your eyes wet with tears. “He’s been my biggest supporter this whole journey and he doesn’t even know it.”

“Well y/n.” your mom exhales through her nose as she smiles for you, “It sounds like you have an important mission for this trip. I hope you really convey your feelings and most importantly…I hope you listen as well. Really listen. Listen to his thoughts and feelings too and be considerate.” She softly advises you. “Communication really is key.”

“I know…” you sniffle.

“Did you know…” your mother hesitates to continue, she exhales a long breath before setting her lips in a firm line. “Your father and I were close to divorcing around the time you were born.”

“Wait what?” you blink at the screen, feeling caught off guard.

Your mother slowly nods her head and closes her eyes.

“We just…didn’t feel like we were on the same page anymore. I didn’t know what he was thinking anymore and he had no idea what was going on in my mind either.”

You pull your brows together as you listen intently, your mom’s words making you feel a little anxious.

“We just didn’t click anymore, it felt like. We were struggling financially at the time and you were…an unexpected surprise. It truthfully further strained our marriage…” she tells you honestly. “But we loved you so much. It was the only thing holding us together.”

“How did you work things out?” you ask quietly.

“We talked. Really talked. I remember we went out on the patio after we put you girls to sleep and we just finally looked at one another and knew we had to have…you know, an important discussion.” She takes a moment to breathe evenly. “I finally let it all out…I told him about how lonely I had been feeling, I told him how I missed him…he was working a lot you know…I told him I just wasn’t happy anymore.”

You feel your heart ache a bit at her words, you never knew this about your parents.

“He ended up crying…nodding his head over and over and telling me he knows how I feel. Because he was feeling it too. The disconnect was hurting the both of us.”

“I had no idea…” you admit, still sniffling. “You and dad always seemed so…okay, all the time.”

“We didn’t want you girls to ever worry. Your father and I have shared bumps in the road but we found a way to cope. We expressed ourselves honestly, the vulnerability creating a closeness I cannot even begin to describe.”

“So you are saying…me and Taehyung—”

“You need to share everything…really everything. This is how you truly move forward.”

“Thanks for sharing that stuff about you and dad…”

“I want to help any way I can honey.” She smiles a smile you rarely see on her, it brings you automatic comfort. “Get some rest and let me know when you land. Goodnight.”

You agree and say your goodbyes to your mom as you both hang up. You sit on your couch still sniffling as you think deeply about what your mother shared with you.

After a few minutes you decide to clean your face with your sleeve and call Jimin back. The ringing only goes on for a second or two before he’s picking up.

“He isn’t going.” Jimin huffs on the video chat. “Said he isn’t in the mood to party.”

“Huh?” you blink at Jimin a few times before you’re realizing. “Oh.”

“You need to tell him you’re coming then maybe he will change his mind…”

“Yeah y/n!” You hear Jungkook yell over the phone, “tell him already! It’s killing me keeping this from him.”

“Well, first of all, hi guys.” You wave at the camera. “Second…” you chew on your lips. A horrible habit of yours, you know. “I will tell him when I get there.” You mumble.

“Oh my god, are you fucking kidding?” You hear Jungkook groan. “Just do it now.”

“Chill!” Jimin scolds Jungkook, “But he’s kind of got a point y/n…”

“Trust me…just let me tell him when I get there. Also, Jimin.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re sure it’s fine that I stay with you?” you look into his eyes through the camera and you see his thick lips curve into a wonderful grin.

“Of course my bff.”

“I want to stay over here too…” Jungkook grumbles, he finally shows himself on screen. “We can all have like a …slumber party or whatever.” His eyes slide to the side as he grows red with embarrassment.

“A slumber party?” Jimin begins to tease, “What are you, a 12 year old girl?”

“I happen to like the slumber party idea.” You nod your head approvingly.

“Seriously though y/n.” Jungkook’s eyes find yours. “Tell him you’re coming.”

“I will, I will.” You wave him off, “I’ll send a text before I fall asleep or something. Happy?”

“Yeah, a bit.” He smirks at you. “Right, Jimin?”

“Yeah.” Jimin grins again, “I’m really hoping for the best, girl.”

“Me too guys…me too.”

~

You double check to make sure you’ve packed everything for your week long trip, you then triple check just to be sure. You feel anxious again but somehow you feel okay at the same time. You think the talk you had with your mom kind of helped you.

You had no idea she and your father shared such “bumps in the road” as she had mentioned. Is talking it out really such a magical solution? Will you and Taehyung really be able to share everything…like everything, everything?

You take one huge deep breath as you pull your phone out…you find Taehyung’s name and begin writing your text.

y/n 9:04pm

I’ll be in korea for Yuna’s birthday. Will I see you there?

You quickly click your phone off and toss it to your bed and squeal. Yes, squeal. You finally did it. Now you wait for a response.

~

It’s 6 am and you are sitting on your flight waiting for takeoff, you stare at your screen as you see the fact that Taehyung read your message several hours ago. He left you on read. You could honestly throw up. You’re anxious all over again.

~~~~~~~

“You belong here!” Jimin is squeezing you so hard it’s almost crushing your very bones. “Just move here already.” He whines into your neck as he continues to embrace you. “Please.”

“My turn…” Jungkook huffs, “I said my turn!”

“Patience, brat.” Jimin teases as he leans away from you, his hands still on your arms. “So how was your flight?”

“You’re really going to try to have a whole conversation with her before I get to hug her? Really dude?” Jungkook shoves Jimin to the side before his arms wrap around you. You return his hug with your own arms circling his tiny waist.

“You missed me, Jungkook?” you inhale his scent, he smells of fresh laundry.

“Whatever.” He grumbles with a toothy grin. “So,” he pulls away from you and gestures you to come inside Jimin’s place. “How was the flight?”

“Long as hell. I’m glad to finally be here.” You walk through, setting your luggage in his walkway. “And I am so damn hungry.”

“Well, we can definitely order some food.” Jimin cheeses, “How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.” You take your shoes off and walk further into Jimin’s home. “Smells good in here.” You comment nonchalantly.

“I lit some candles before you got here.” Jimin scratches the back of his neck, “Wasn’t sure if you would like the scent so I blew them out.”

“No, no. I like it.” You find your way into his living room, his black leather sofas taking up much of the space. You find a spot near the window and take a seat.

“So, did you even tell Taehyung? We saw him earlier today and he didn’t say anything so I am assuming you didn’t tell him.” Jungkook says with a serious tone.

“Actually I did.” You pick at your nails, but raise your head as to not look bothered.

“Wait…really? He didn’t say anything?” Jimin questions with the tilt of his head.

“He left me on read.” You say as plainly as possible. “Guess he doesn’t want to see me.”

“He…he left you on…” Jungkook looks over at Jimin, their eyes meeting with curiosity. “But he….?”

“Yup.” You go back to picking at your nails, trying your best once again to look unbothered.

“Well!” Jimin claps his hands together, “What should we eat?”

A few hours pass, night time quickly approaching. You, Jimin and Jungkook wait for Yuna and Jiwoo to arrive at Jimin’s place. You three drinking soju, giggling while resting on the sofas when you hear knocking on Jimin’s front door.

Jimin hurries to answer when you hear the voices of your two friends echoing lightly throughout the place. Yuna appears first, she rushes to your spot on the couch, jumping on you and quickly embracing you. You can’t help but laugh out loud, inhaling her sweet, sweet scent as you two hug one another. Jiwoo joins you both by sitting next to you and wrapping her arms around you.

“H-Hi Jiwoo.” Jungkook quickly stands up when Jimin is coming to his side and nudging his shoulder.

“And Yuna.” He reminds him with his teasing voice.

“Right.” Jungkook clears his throat. “And Yuna. Hi.”

“Hey.” Jiwoo replies cooly, “You guys started drinking without us?”

“You guys took too long!” You slur happily. “We only have had a little, little.” You show her how little with your pointer finger and thumb.

“Sure Miss Drunkie.” Jiwoo laughs, “Yuna I think you can let her breathe now.”

“One more minute!” Yuna rubs her face on your shoulder as she continues to hug you. “Missed my y/n!”

“Yuna!” you giggle. “You have 5 more seconds!”

“Fine.” Yuna pouts dramatically, pulling off you. She sits on your other side and smiles up at you. Her hair is still a pale pink and her eyeshadow is a glittery art work. You look over at Jiwoo with her jet black hair, it’s gotten even longer.

“It’s good to see you guys.” You chirp, “And oh my god, two more days until your birthday!” you point at Yuna excitedly.

“I can’t believe your dad is letting you have your birthday party at the Mondrian.” Jimin takes a seat on the other sofa with Jungkook. “That place is so nice.”

“I’m spoiled.” Yuna sings, “So spoiled!”

“At least she admits it.” Jiwoo deadpans.

You start giggling some more, reaching for another shot of soju. You down it back and smack your lips in satisfaction.

“Yummy!” you sway into Yuna and Jiwoo. “You guys want to play a game?”

“Like what?” Jungkook asks. “I think Hobi said he wants to swing by.”

“Oh! Yay.” You chirp happily, “Can the rest of the guys not make it?”

“We’re meeting with everyone tomorrow Miss impatient.” Jimin takes his own shot of soju.

“But I want to see everyone now.” You jut your lip out. “Jungkook!” you stand up and stumble to where he’s seated. “Call em and tell em to come here. Now.” You plop down next to him. “Pretty please.” You lean into his shoulder and smile for him. Jungkook turns nice and rosy before he’s lightly pushing you away.

“You have to wait y/n.” he reminds you, avoiding your intense gaze.

“Jungkookie.” You whine, “I said pretty please.”

“Wow, she is drunk.” Jiwoo chuckles, “I love it.”

“Same.” Jimin’s eyes turn to crescents as he grins. “She is so…free.” He says quieter, “She’s changed so much.”

“Jungkookie!” You lean into his space again, your big eyes blinking up at him over and over until he’s groaning.

“Fine!” he throws his hands up, “Who should we call first?”

You end up calling the rest of the guys and chatting for a while, your drunken state only worsening. But it’s nothing but a good time. Jimin ends up tucking you in his kind size bed, he brushes the hair out of your face and watches you fondly as you snore in your sleep. He’s so proud of you. Jungkook walks into the bedroom as well and he shares a knowing look with Jimin and Jimin’s smile fades into a frown.

“Want to have a beer on the patio?” Jungkook nods towards outside the room.

“Sure.” Jimin takes one last look at you before he’s leaving you to sleep. Jimin and Jungkook walk past the sofa where Yuna and Jiwoo are knocked out, cuddling each other for warmth. They make their way outside and take their seats on the patios chairs.

“So.” Jungkook pinches his brows together, “He didn’t say anything to us.”

“I know.” Jimin’s frown only deepens. “He’s probably taking his time to process her arrival, you know?”

“Is it that simple?” Jungkook brows pull together even further. “He’s doing so well and maybe he…”

“He just needs time Jungkook. I know him.”

“I know him too Jimin and he acted like she didn’t reach out to him? That’s not…I don’t know, concerning to you?”

Jimin stares straight ahead, bringing his beer to his lips. He takes a few gulps before facing Jungkook.

“Yeah.” He admits. “It is.”

~

The next morning is horrific, the hangover you have is probably literally killing you. Your head is absolutely pounding and your body feels weak. But you have to admit the sheets in this bed feel amazing so you are tempted to stay here forever—or at least until this killer hangover disappears.

“y/n. It’s like 2pm.” You hear Jungkook’s voice hammer in your ears. “Get up!”

“Nooooooo.” You groggily whine, pulling the sheets up over your head. “Want to stay here forever.”

“Brought you some water girl.” Jimin’s angelic voice is heard, he’s gently pulling the sheets down and exposing your tired as hell face.

“Drink it slowly.” He sweetly advises, “And here’s some pain killers.” He hands you two pills and you eye him up before taking them gratefully.

“Thanks…” you murmur. “Holy hell, soju is no joke.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook laughs. “But you hung in there!”

“Where are Yuna and Jiwoo?” you pop the pills in your mouth and drink back some water. The refreshing beverage already making you feel a little more alive.

“They left hours ago!” Jungkook continues to laugh, “You slept through it.”

“Damn.” You grumble, “Wait!” you suddenly raise your head up. “Aren’t the guys getting here at 3 today?”

“Yes.” Jimin smiles, “So maybe you want to shower….and get ready.”

“O-Okay.” You agree, you pull the sheets back off your body and rise from the bed, the room starts to slightly spin and you whine. “I am not drinking this much ever again!”

“You say that now. But Yuna’s party is open bar so.” Jungkook winks.

You gag just at the thought of drinking more alcohol. You drag your feet towards Jimin’s bathroom and your hand reaches for the shower knob and you turn it on, letting the water warm up.

“Okay, I’ll get ready! You two shoo.”

The shower is exactly what you needed, the warm water making you feel relaxed and comfortable. You’re grateful that Jimin is letting you stay at his place for a whole week…you really wish you saw them more often. You really wish you lived here sometimes.

You admittedly love it here…you enjoy your life back home too, don’t get it wrong but something about this place that feels so fitting.

“Almost done in there?” You hear Jimin softly knock on the bathroom door. “Jin says they’re on the way.”

“Be right out!” you call back out. “Almost done.”

You take a look in the mirror and you think to yourself about how nicely you clean up. You got some ripped jeans and a black long sleeve shirt, some light make up and two clips in your hair. You look cute as hell actually.

“Okay. Time to see my friends.” You give yourself an awkward thumbs up in the mirror before you’re chuckling. “Should I practice my Korean on them?” you ask out loud. Then you nod your head and give yourself another thumbs up before you step out of the bathroom, walk through Jimin’s room and enter the living room.

“About time lady!” Jungkook snickers, “What the hell were you doing in there?”

“You shouldn’t ask a girl that!” Jimin swats Jungkook’s arm. “Feeling better y/n?”

“Loads!” you walk towards them and find a place on the couch. “Are they almost here?”

Suddenly, there’s excessive knocking on the front door. You three whip your heads in the direction and you jump up in delight. You race Jungkook to the door and swing it open and as soon as you do so many arms are reaching out to hold you.

“y/n!!!!” Hobi is the first to wrap his arms around you so tightly, he sways your bodies back and forth. “I missed you so much.” He finally lets go when Jin is automatically pulling you into his chest.

“Your favorite one is here now.” He jokes as he squeezes your smaller body.

“Uh have you guys ever stayed up all night on the phone sharing writing tips for hours? I don’t think so.” You hear Namjoon say teasingly. “Come here you.” He’s dragging your arm until your body is being engulfed by his. “About time you visited.”

“Hey, we don’t have any say on y/n’s timing to come here. What matters is that she is here now.” Yoongi stands to the side, waiting for his turn. “But I would like a hug too.” He smiles that gummy smile and you giggle. You leave Namjoon to give Yoongi a tight embrace, he rocks your bodies back and forth before he’s letting go altogether.

“Good to see you y/n.” he says.

“You too. All of you.” You look at the boys, “You have no idea how much I missed you guys. Talking through the phone just isn’t enough, is it?”

“You could always move here.” Hobi offers with a teasing smile. “But you know that already.”

“She does know that!” Jungkook yells over the chatter. “But she’s a scaredy cat.”

“Hey.” You pout towards Jungkook. “Am not.”

“Then move here.” Jimin gives you his best sly smile, “You can live with me.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” you giggle, walking into the kitchen with the guys following behind you.

“Ah y/n, I think your phone is ringing.” Jin points towards the device on the counter. “Should I answer it?”

You raise your brows and head to the counter to see who is calling. Marcus.

“Oh hold on, let me take this.” You announce to everyone before answering your phone,

“Hello?”

“Hey. Just wanted to check in on you.” You hear Marcus’s raspy voice on the other end. “How is it?”

“Good, good. The flight was good. I’ve just been hanging with everyone. Actually I’m with everyone now…can we talk later?” you mumble into the phone.

“Oh.” Marcus chuckles, “Sure. Call me later?”

“Yeah.” He hears the smile in your voice. “I’ll call you later.” And then you’re quickly hanging up, bringing the phone back to the counter. It’s oddly quiet in the house.

“What?” You ask with big eyes, blinking at everyone. They all give you a curious look before you scoff.

“He’s just a friend.” You say sternly. “So stop whatever ideas your guys are all getting in your silly little heads.”

“Just friends….” Namjoon nods his head slowly. “Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“She’s ‘serious’ mhm.” Jungkook nods his head mockingly. “Right.”

“I am!” you groan, “Seriously.”

“She said they’re just friends, guys.” Yoongi puts a hand on your shoulder, “Right?”

“Right.”

“Right.” Jin nods his head quickly.

“Right.” Hobi gives you a thumbs up before he’s giving you one of his signature grins.

“Well,” Jimin comes up to you and reaches for your hand and squeezing it, “y/n is here guys. Let’s make the most of this week. Tomorrow is Friday, aka Yuna’s extravagant birthday ball and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

~~~~~~~

You lay in bed after a long day of hanging with your friends, your phone up to your face as you stare at the screen that mocks you. He read your message and just…never replied. You are trying your best to feel okay but now that you lay alone you start to feel the loneliness creep up. Does he not want to see you? Is he afraid to see you?

You exit your message threads and go to your photos…you find the selfies from your date and you stare and stare at the screen. He’s so strikingly handsome. You feel your chest tighten as you continue to gaze at the photos, you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. Suddenly there is knocking on the bedroom door and Jimin is walking in…you’re quick to click your phone off and pretend you just weren’t staring at the man you love.

“Hey.” Jimin greets you softly. “You still awake?”

“Yeah…” you turn over to face him, you scoot over and pat the spot next to you and he takes the invitation to slide in the sheets.

“How are you doing?” Jimin asks suddenly, his tone is warm and comforting and you almost burst into tears at his question but instead you clear your throat and nod your head a few times.

“Good.” you lie.

“y/n…” Jimin breathes out slowly, “Really. How are you?” his eyes are full of fucking pity and it’s driving you to feel like a god damn burden.

“I said I’m good.” But your voice cracks, and he’s already pulling you into his chest.

“y/n…” he holds you tight as you try to even out your breathing. “I talked to him today.”

“He’s…” you hiccup, “He’s going to come. I know it.” You say into Jimin’s chest. “I know it. Even if he doesn’t reply to me, he’s going to go to the party.”

“…He…said he isn’t going.” Jimin tells you regretfully. “He seemed pretty serious.”

“No.” you sniffle now, “He’s going.” You feel your eyes sting as you try to blink back growing tears. “He’s going.” You repeat pathetically.

“Okay, okay.” Jimin begins rubbing your back. “Okay.”

“I just need a chance Jimin.” You hiccup again, “A chance to show him that I…” your breathing picks up even more, your sharp breaths concerning Jimin.

“Just relax…” He continues to rub your back, “I’m here.”

“Jimin…” your voice cracks again but this time because of a quiet sob that finally breaks through. “I miss him so much.” You cry.

“I know girl.” His soft voice making you feel comforted. “I’m holding onto hope too.” He tells you, his tender tone only making you cry harder.

“Fuck…” you sob into his chest. “I miss him so fucking much.”

You eventually fall asleep in Jimin’s arms after you spent some time crying it out. Jimin has a hard time knocking out, his mind too busy with thoughts of you and Taehyung.

~

“You look absolutely gorgeous.” Jimin has stars in his eyes as he looks at you, “Right, Jungkook?” he hits Jungkook’s arm and Jungkook awkwardly clears his throat.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Thanks guys.” You tug on the material over your stomach and frown. “Are you sure though? This dress looks fine on me?”

“Absolutely. Gorgeous.” Jimin repeats. “Stunning.”

“He’s right.” Jungkook shrugs. “You do look nice. Or whatever.”

“Fine, I guess I will have to believe you two. You also look nice.” You gesture towards the two men in suits. “This is about to be super fancy isn’t it?” you pinch your brows together as you chuckle. “Yuna really went all out.” You look up at the building. The Mondrian is a beautiful hotel, very luxurious. You three step through the rotating doors and enter the main building.

“She can go all out when she’s got daddy’s money.” Jungkook big doe eyes look around him, he’s in awe of the hotel, that much is clear.

“Should we find the conference room and find the bar and you know, start drinking?” your eyes scan around, noticing all the people dressed up walking to the elevators. “She said it’s on the 3rd floor right?”

“What happened to no more drinking?” Jungkook nudges your shoulder. “But hell yeah, let’s go.”

“I second that.” Jimin links arms with you and Jungkook, leading the way towards the elevators.

You three find the conference room and your eyes grow twice their size. This room is huge, many tables set up, people dancing to loud music, the bar is poppin with lines of people waiting for a free drink, it’s beyond what you imagined.

“y/n!!!” You hear the high pitched voice of no other than Yuna. She looks so beautiful it actually feels blinding. Her deep green gown, her pale pink hair, her subtle yet gorgeous make up. She looks like a fairy princess. Jiwoo follows closely behind, a bold, blue dress with her hair pinned up. She looks like a model out of a magazine.

“You look amazing.” Yuna points at you, her eyes full of genuine surprise. “Like, what the heck?” she looks you up and down, her hands motioning towards your body.

“This dress is so…” She blinks at you repeatedly, “Do a turn for me!”

You giggle, feeling a bit shy but you do a little twirl. Yuna pretends to faint.

“AND IT’S BACKLESS?! You’re killing me!” she yells out dramatically. “Jiwoo are you seeing this?!” “You do look so pretty.” Jiwoo chuckles. “Yuna, can you ever compliment someone more normally?”

“You like the way I compliment.” Yuna raises her head up. “You know it’s true.”

“You literally pretended to have a heart attack when you saw me tonight.” Jiwoo deadpans, “who does that?”

“Girls who recognize real beauty.” Yuna states matter of fact. “And girl, you are beautiful.”

“Shush.” Jiwoo’s cheeks begin to heat up, you can’t help but giggle at the interaction.

“You both look lovely.” You tell them sincerely. “And happy birthday Yuna.” You lean in for a hug, its tight and quick and you’re pulling away much faster than Yuna’s liking,

“Thanks girl.” She smiles for you. “You really do look so nice y/n…are you hoping to see T—”

“Yuna.” Jiwoo warns, “Let’s get a drink?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” You say, “Where did Jimin and Jungkook go?” you finally notice they’re absence.

“Probably to their table. With the rest of the guys.” Yuna tells you while she starts leading you girls towards the open bar. “Shots?” She smirks towards you two. “It’s my birthday so you can’t say no.”

“Fine. But you’re trying to kill me.” You laugh, “I’m going easy tonight.”

“One shot.” Yuna pouts cutely, “But you!” She points at Jiwoo. “You have to take two with me.”

“Fine by me.” Jiwoo shrugs. We both know between the two of us, it’s me who’s taking care of you and your drunk ass tonight.”

“Counting on it.” Yuna blows Jiwoo a kiss.

“Ugh, let’s do this.”

You girls wait for the shots, taking them quickly once they’re in your hands. The burn is exactly what you needed to loosen up. You’re nervous tonight. You’re anticipating Taehyung’s arrival. Yes, he never replied to you. Yes, he told Jimin he wasn’t coming. But you feel it in your bones…he’s coming tonight. He wants to see you as bad as you want to see him. At least that’s what you are hoping for.

“You’re too good of a dancer Hobi, I can’t keep up with you!” you whine loud enough for him to hear you over the music.

“You’re doing great!” he tells you, his hands on your waist. “Just move to the music girl!”

“Easier said than done.” You laugh loudly, “Hey, what time is it?”

“Hm..” Hobi lifts his left wrist to look at his watch. “Almost 12.” He tells you.

It’s almost 12? And he’s still not here? No, you know he’s coming. He has to. He will. You feel your chest close in on you, and your heart thumping wildly. You know you’re going to see him tonight. You know it. You excuse yourself and head towards the doors of the conference room. You walk past Jimin who suddenly frowns as he realizes you’re heading out the doors, he tries calling out for you but you ignore him. He doesn’t think Taehyung is going to show up.

But you know.

You stand in the hallway in front of the elevators for who knows how long, you shift from one foot to the other as you wait anxiously. The party is still going hard, but you’ve tuned it all out. The only thing you hear is Taehyung’s deep voice. It plays in your mind, him saying something as simple as your name. You wish you were hearing it for real. You hear the ding of the arriving elevator and go rigid.

The sharp intake of breath your weak body just sucked in has you feeling tense. You knew you were going to see him…you knew this was going to happen but here you are, trying so hard to even out your breathing as you await his arrival. No amount of journaling could calm you, relax you, give you a sense of peace. No amount of alcohol could make you feel looser.

“Jimin just told me…” Yuna catches up to you, out of breath. “y/n…” your name leaves her mouth with pity, “I don’t think he’s going to come.”

“He will.” You say, standing your ground outside the elevator. “He will.”

“At least wait inside…” She gestures towards the conference room, where the party is. “It looks lonely waiting out here.”

Your eyes fall to the tiled floor, the shiny cream colored squares showing a vague reflection of yourself. Maybe it is lonely.

“Okay…” You turn around to face Yuna, a tired smile working itself on your lips. “Let’s dance?”

“Yeah.” She offers a drunk smile.

Then you hear the elevator doors opening, you whip your head in the direction of the doors but inside is only unrecognizable faces.

“Let’s go.” You tell her, trying your best not to feel so disappointed.

You both walk into the room again, the music blaring and the sight of sweaty bodies grinding against one another.

“I need a drink.” You take a deep breath before heading towards the bar. You find yourself downing shot after shot.

“Hey, slow down.” Jungkook’s voice cuts in through the booming music. “Don’t want you to like, throw up.”

“Hey Jungkook…?” You hand him your drink, getting it away from you. “You’re always straight up…”

“Don’t do this.” Jungkook warns you softly, “Not now.”

“Is Taehyung—”

“Is Taehyung…what?” A new voice cuts in, a voice you know all too well. It’s deep, deeper than the fucking ocean. It’s smooth, its charming, You feel your breath get caught in your throat as your ears process the voice they heard. You struggle for a moment, but you finally tilt your head to the side and your eyes narrow at the tall figure.

“Am I what?” he repeats.

Finally, a small gasp leaves your lips as your eyes widen in genuine shock. You knew he would come tonight yet somehow you are as surprised as Jungkook next to you. You don’t notice but Jungkook nods his head towards Taehyung and walks away, leaving you two.

“T-Taehyung…?” you blink over and over, not believing your eyes. “What are you—”

“I’m here to see you.” He tells you bluntly. “And my god woman, you are a sight for sore eyes.” He all but whispers, his expression stiff as he eyes you.

“Taehyung.” You release the shakiest breath as you repeat his name.

“Hi y/n.”

You straighten yourself, trying to show off the fact that you aren’t totally drunk. You look all around the slightly spinning room and search for faces you know. Finally, your eyes lock with Jimin’s. He looks worried but he quickly tries to smile for you. You look panicked to say the least. The room is crowded, loud, hot and sweaty. But all of that fades away when the scent of Taehyung fills your nostrils. You take a second to notice he has stepped forward until he is right in front of you.

“y/n.” he says your name as a command. Your frantic eyes find his and you feel the whole room freeze.

Taehyung studies you, his focused eyes scanning every inch of your body. You watch as he lifts a hand and reaches behind you. Then suddenly you are feeling light fingertips tracing your down your spine. His fingers barely skid across your exposed skin and you slowly close your eyes at the contact. Your breathing slowing as well.

Taehyung’s fingers glide back up your back, his touch so light like he almost wasn’t even touching you. His serious expression beginning to soften as he brings his hand back to his own body.

“This dress is like the one you wore on the island.”

“You like it.” You whisper.

“Yes.” He admits, you two gaze into one another’s eyes until he finally looks off to the side.

“Should we talk?” he asks you, “Or are you too drunk?”

“No, no.” you shake your head, “Let’s talk.”

Taehyung looks you over one last time before nodding his head and turning around to head towards the exit. You gulp as you watch his broad back…you hurry to follow him.

Taehyung glances behind him and he exhales a long breath when he sees you rushing after him, he looks forward again until he’s reaching the elevators.

“Come on.” He gestures towards the open elevators.

You walk quickly, reaching him and the elevator before you’re going inside. He follows you in.

“Taehyung—”

“Wait until we are downstairs.” He cuts you off softly.

“Okay…”

The ride is silent. But your mind is as loud as shrieking ghosts, ghosts that want to haunt and traumatize you. You finally hear the ding, signaling your arrival to the first floor.

“Come on.” He tells you, his voice booming throughout the small space. “Follow me.”

You do as he says, you follow him. Truthfully, you would follow him anywhere. Even to the ends of the Earth.

“Yes, hi.” Taehyung begins speaking to the front desk lady. “I want a room, please.”

Wait, a room? You’d follow him anywhere but a room?

“Taehyung—”

“It’s just so we have privacy.” He assures you, not even looking in your direction.

“It’s expensive…” you slur. “We can just talk outside.”

“It’s fine.” He hands the lady his card, “Which floor?”

“6th floor.” She informs him with a bright smile.

Your eyes find your shoes, somehow they’re more fascinating than anything else suddenly. Then you feel the warmth of Taehyung’s hand wrapping itself around yours, his fingers struggling to intertwine with your own. But then you finally receive the hint and allow him to hold your hand.

“You’re drunk, y/n.” he says, voice laced in disappointment, “I’m sorry for making you wait.” He leads you back to the elevators. You two walk inside and he let’s go of your hand, he runs his fingers through his smooth hair and sighs out in defeat.

“You should just get some sleep.”

“I want to talk.” You slur again, “I have…I have so much to say.”

“We’ll see.” His low voice rumbles. “We’ll see.”

The ride up to the 6th floor is long, but you finally make it out of that small space and stumble towards your room.

Taehyung unlocks the door and you make your way inside…the view is amazing. The city is quite the sight.

“Take your shoes off, I’m sure your feet hurt.” Taehyung loosens up his tie.

“They do.” You admit in a whine.

Taehyung takes a seat on the edge of the made bed and watches you with intense eyes as you get comfortable.

“C’mere.” He pats the spot next to him.

Suddenly you become very shy. You haven’t felt this kind of tension in so long. His eyes boring into every inch of your skin, his eyes trailing along your body and making you feel exposed. Making you feel naked.

“Okay.” You nod your head slowly, “I can do that.” You take your time walking to him, sitting next to him on the bed.

“What is it you want to tell me?” Taehyung gets straight to the point.

“Uh….umm…”

“Words y/n.” he closes his eyes for a brief second, then his sight is back on you. “Why did you want to see me?”

“Taehyung.” Saying his name feels so…exhilarating. You’ve avoided it for so long but now you can say it and it feels like freedom and it tastes so, so sweet on your tongue.

“I don’t know where to start.” You admit. “I didn’t rehearse…”

For the first time tonight Taehyung’s face splits into a small smile as he quietly chuckles.

“Rehearse?”

“Yeah…I didn’t practice what to say.” You slur cutely.

“Just let the words flow naturally.” His eyes light up in slight amusement. “What is it you want to tell me?”

“I miss you.” You blurt out, your hand immediately going to cover your mouth as if you said curse words.

“You miss me?” he repeats your words, “Is that so?”

You slowly lower your hand that covers your mouth and nod your head.

“Yes.” You close your eyes and tilt your head back. “This past year…”

“What about it?”

“This past year I…”

“You?” Taehyung raises a curious brow, “You what?”

“I think I’ve become better.” You slur out your words, “I’m better now.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung asks, his voice low. “I’m happy for you.”

“Taehyung.” You lower your head and open your eyes. They stare straight ahead. “Can we make this work?” your words jumble together as you try to speak. Those last shots sneaking up on you.

“I’ve decided that this conversation is going to have to wait.” Taehyung stands from the bed, “I’m going to get you some water.”

You watch as he walks towards a counter and pours you a glass of water, he comes back and places the cup in your hands. “Drink.” He says softly. “Please.”

“O-Okay.” You bring the cup to your lips, your eyes never leaving his as you gulp back some of the liquid.

“Good girl.” He whispers. “Now, I want you to get some sleep.”

“Are you sleeping with me?” you hiccup.

“No.” he tells you with a tender voice, “But I will stay here until you fall asleep, how about that?”

“Okay….”

Taehyung watches you carefully as you lay down on the bed, your head falling onto the fluffy pillow and your eyes closing almost immediately. He softly groans when you begin snoring only minutes later…his eyes never leaving you.

You’re going to be in Korea? For Yuna’s birthday? Taehyung reads your text like he’s on repeat. He is feeling an array of emotions, he feels good things, bad things, things in the middle. But the bad things…aren’t even very bad. It’s just anxiety…and doubt. Maybe it is that bad.

Taehyung decides not to reply not until he’s talked to his therapist, he wants to thoroughly discuss this over and come to a smart decision. But his heart is fucking fluttering at the thought of seeing you. He really misses you. But are either of you ready to face the other?

The next day Taehyung gets to the old man’s office, waiting patiently outside the door until he gets the signal he can go in. Where does he start? Does he just show the text to his therapist? Does he talk about something else first before nonchalantly bringing you up and this text that is haunting him?

“y/n texted me.” He decides to be straight forward, as usual.

“Ah, really?” the old man peeks at Taehyung through his glasses that rest lowly on his nose. “What did she say?”

“She’s coming here. She asked if she will see me.”

“And will you see her?”

“I…I don’t know.” Taehyung admits between a long breath, “I really don’t know.”

The old man nods his head in quiet understanding, he jots down some notes on his notebook with his pen.

“Taehyung.” The man stops writing his notes to get a look at Taehyung, “What do you want from her? If anything at all.”

“I just want her to live a good life.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked what you want from her?”

“I don’t know anymore.” He tells the old man, his voice low.

“It’s okay not to know. You don’t have to see her if you aren’t ready, you know?”

“I don’t?” Taehyung asks, but then his lips curve upward like he realizes how silly his question is. “I know.” He nods his head, “But it’s not like I don’t want to see her. I do.”

“Then—”

“But I don’t know how to prepare for that. I don’t know how to face her. What will we even talk about? Why does she want to see me? Is she just being polite because we share the same friends? That she knows she’s bound to run into me? Or is it because she does want to see me? But why? Why?” Taehyung begins to ramble. “Can we coexist? Is this just about coexisting? Is that about us? Her and I? Is this about what we can maybe be? But how do either of us know we are ready for that?”

“Ah, that.” The old man sighs out, taking his glasses off. “I know it may seem like cliché words…but you will just know.”

“You’re right. Those are cliché words.” Taehyung says with a straight face.

“But they are a classic for a reason, you know?” The old man points out with a chuckle. “You will feel it. You will feel it in every fiber of your being of what the right thing to do is. You will feel it. Your bones will tell you. Your heart will tell you. You will realize how simple and easy it is to just know.”

“But I don’t know?”

“Because maybe it isn’t time for you yet to be aware. But the time will come.”

“I think for now…I need time to think. I didn’t have enough time to prepare for this.” Taehyung says honestly. “This is too sudden.”

“You have every right to feel that way.”

“But how does she feel?” Taehyung becomes worried, his soft expression becoming more and more serious.

“We’re here to focus on you.” The old man reminds him gently. “In the end, I believe you will do what you think is best. You will do what you think is right. And coming to those type of conclusions takes time.”

Taehyung sits down in a chair across from the bed, gazing at you as you sleep. He thought seeing you would give him the answers he needs but he’s still lost. It took a lot for him to show up here…it took a lot for him to gather the courage to face you. He thought for sure once he saw you he would know everything. He would feel what to do. But seeing you here only confuses him further. What does he want? What is he ready for? Does he even know you anymore?

Finally, Taehyung stands up from the chair and walks to your side of the bed. He reaches his hand to gently stroke your cheek before he’s leaving the room. Leaving you. He sends a text to Jimin letting him know your room number and that you’re fast asleep. Then he is heading back home.

~~~~

“A movie night?” you tilt your head to the side, “I don’t know…can we just—”

“It’ll be a good way for everyone to unwind from last night’s partying!” Jimin whines, “Please! I promise you can choose the first movie.” He offers with a sweet smile.

“Jimin I don’t know…if I’m up for this after last night…”

“Oh? Didn’t I tell you?” the corner of Jimin’s mouth curves upwards. “He said he was going to come tonight.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, said he wanted to hang with everyone. Guess that includes you.” Jimin points out knowingly. “You said you guys didn’t really get to talk so maybe…”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“But you said you were going to give it your all right? This is an opportunity.”

“Oh…” you start pulling at the ends of your hair, “That’s true.”

“So movie night?”

“Movie night.”

You and Jimin clean up his place as you wait for everyone’s arrival. Hobi and Yoongi show up first, then Namjoon and finally Jungkook and Jin. Taehyung still hasn’t shown up and you guys are about to play your first movie. You wonder if he is really coming.

“He’s coming, I just talked to him on the way here.” Jungkook assures you. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed.” You lie, “You relax.”

“He went last night…that’s a good sign, right?”

“I don’t know.” You admit honestly. “We didn’t get to talk.”

Suddenly, you hear the front door unlocking and opening up. You guess he has a key. You freeze on the sofa, you can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. He’s here.

“Hey guys.” You hear his deep voice rumble. “I’m here.” He announces but you keep your eyes on the TV. You feel his footsteps get closer and closer, the pitter patter against the wooden floors making you so anxious.

Then you see his figure in your peripherals, he’s standing on the side of the couch, facing you.

“Hi y/n.”

You gulp, your eyes still on the TV when you remind yourself you’re a brave girl. You slowly turn your head to face him, your wide eyes finding his face. His hair is shorter than you remember, still a bit wavy and still dark. He looks so handsome, so mature. He’s got on some comfortable looking pants and a printed button up, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at you.

“Hi.” You squeak.

“Can I sit next to you?” he asks, his low voice barely heard by the others. “If it’s okay…”

“Yeah!” you rush to scoot over, making room for him. “Sit, sit.”

Taehyung gives you a wide boxy grin and nods his head quickly, he takes a seat next to you, his shoulder bumping yours. Fuck, you feel like you’re in middle school. His shoulder is like, fucking heaven or some shit.

“What movie did you guys decide on?”

“I don’t know, something random.” You tell him nervously. “It just started. You haven’t missed much.”

“I don’t think I’ll be paying much attention to the movie anyway.” Taehyung whispers, his warm breath fanning your cheek from how close he is.

“Oh?” you gulp. “Jimin says it’s good though.”

“I’m not really here for the movies, you know?” He leans into you a little bit and you feel a harsh, harsh blush creep up on your heated cheeks. His fingers find your knee and he taps against your jeans. “Can we talk outside?”

“The—The movie….” You whisper, pointing at the screen. “Let’s just watch the movie for now.”

Shit, you haven’t felt this nervous under his gaze in his long. His eyes study you as you watch the film. You can feel his intense gaze. You can feel how he just stares at you from time to time.

You aren’t sure why you are chickening out…maybe because you’re embarrassed about being drunk last night. How you asked if you guys could work on it, but he said he wanted to save this talk for later. It’s just making you more and more nervous.

“This movie is boring.” Jin yawns. “Let’s pause and order some food? Also let’s go to the store and get some beer?”

“Dude yes!” Hobi agrees, “I’ll go. Who wants to come with me?”

“I’ll go with you.” Namjoon raises his hand.

“You’re right I need your muscles to help me.”

“I’ll order the food!” Jimin offers but Jungkook is quick to volunteer as well, something about not trusting Jimin to get all the good meats.

“Sounds good.” Yoongi brings out his phone and starts playing on it.

Taehyung glances over at you and nods towards the patio.

“Shall we?” he begins standing up, he faces you and extends his hand out for you to take. You hesitate but you take it. The warmth of his hand sending tingles all throughout your body, you wonder if he feels it too.

He leads you out to the patio and you both take a seat across from one another. You nervously shake your knee up and down and Taehyung can’t help but chuckle.

“Will you calm down?” He insists, “You’re the one who wanted to talk, remember?”

“I know.” You find his beautiful, brown eyes. “I do.”

“Then talk.” He gestures for you to go on.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?”

“How has your year been?” this is where you decide to start.

“Hard. Good. Worth it.” He leans back in the chair, “I struggled some days more than others but mostly…really good.”

“Do you think you could…be honest with me? Be open with me?” you nibble on your lips, your knee continues to shake.

“How so?”

“Can you tell me all about your year, what you went through, how you felt. Your feelings in general. Could you do that? With me?”

Taehyung blinks at you in surprise for a few seconds before he is closing his eyes altogether. He leans even further back in his chair and takes a deep breath.

“You want to know me again?” he whispers out. “You want to know me?”

“Yes. And I want you to know me in return.” Your shaking knee finally comes to a stop as you drag your chair closer to his. “I want to…really talk. About everything. I want to understand you. I want…”

“I understand.” Taehyung nods his head before opening his eyes again, they find yours and you’re intimated by his gaze. He observes you for a while, his serious expression making you nervous again.

“What do you want from me?” He asks bluntly. “What is your ultimate goal here?”

“You.” You reply just as straight forward. “I want you.”

“I don’t know.” He says quickly, you feel your heart squeeze in your chest. He doesn’t know?

“I think…” he sighs out, “I don’t think it’s that simple.” And what the old man said is starting to make sense. This is a moment where Taehyung feels it. He feels what the right thing to do is.

“I don’t think we can jump into something like romance, y/n.”

You brows pinch together as you listen to him speak, but you relax your features and nod in understanding,

“Do you want to be friends with me, Taehyung?”

“I think that’s a place we can start.”

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AGOT: Daenerys V (Chapter 46)

Why yes, she does! And you won’t believe what happens next.

I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself as she took the stallion's heart in both hands, lifted it to her mouth, and plunged her teeth into the tough, stringy flesh.

She’s literally eating a heart. Is this really not obvious?

+.+

The heart of a stallion would make her son strong and swift and fearless, or so the Dothraki believed, but only if the mother could eat it all. If she choked on the blood or retched up the flesh, the omens were less favorable; the child might be stillborn, or come forth weak, deformed, or female.    

You’d think this first prophecy going to shit might tip some people off, but nope!

+.+

As the smoke ascended, the chanting died away and the ancient crone closed her single eye, the better to peer into the future.

(...)

Finally the crone opened her eye and lifted her arms. "I have seen his face, and heard the thunder of his hooves," she proclaimed in a thin, wavery voice.          

"The thunder of his hooves!" the others chorused.

"As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name." The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world."    

Hello Drogon.

Maybe we should ask ourselves why this Dothraki woman is trembling and afraid.

+.+

Each of the old women had been a khaleesi once. When their lord husbands died and a new khal took his place at the front of his riders, with a new khaleesi mounted beside him, they were sent here, to reign over the vast Dothraki nation. Even the mightiest of khals bowed to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen. Still, it gave Dany the shivers to think that one day she might be sent to join them, whether she willed it or no.    

What do you mean might? You are entirely too old to believe your husband will always be a khal.

+.+

"My brother Rhaegar was a fierce warrior, my sun-and-stars," she told him 

Nope, not accurate.

+.+

The moon floated on the still black waters, shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it.

Shattering and re-forming as her ripples washed over it. Alrighty.

+.+

When she emerged from the lake, shivering and dripping, her handmaid Doreah hurried to her with a robe of painted sandsilk, but Khal Drogo waved her away. He was looking on her swollen breasts and the curve of her belly with approval, and Dany could see the shape of his manhood pressing through his horsehide trousers, below the heavy gold medallions of his belt. She went to him and helped him unlace. Then her huge khal took her by the hips and lifted her into the air, as he might lift a child. The bells in his hair rang softly.

Dany wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face against his neck as he thrust himself inside her. Three quick strokes and it was done.

Did I delete this from my brain after the first time? Ughhh.

+.+

"The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd."    

The people of the world should not be a herd, and much like Azor Ahai, this sounds more like a warning.

+.+

The crones of the dosh khaleen came first, with their eunuchs and slaves.

x

Alongside the procession, slaves ran lightly through the grass with torches in their hands

x

Dany climbed off her silver and gave the reins to one of the slaves. 

x

A slave knelt before him, offering a wooden platter full of ripe figs.

x

He held out his cup, and a slave filled it with fermented mare's milk, sour-smelling and thick with clots.    

x

He shouted a command. Cook slaves pulled a heavy iron stew pot from the firepit

x

A slave handed him a pair of thick horsehair mittens

There they are again.

+.+

Dany had not known, had not even suspected. "Then … he should have them. He does not need to steal them. He had only to ask. He is my brother … and my true king."    

(...)

"You do not understand, ser," she said. "My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. I would never have known so much as their names if Viserys had not been there to tell me. He was the only one left. The only one. He is all I have."

x

Viserys was weeping, she saw; weeping and laughing, both at the same time, this man who had once been her brother.     

x

"What did he say?" the man who had been her brother asked her, flinching.   

x

Qotho seized the man who had been her brother by the arms.

x

And upended the pot over the head of the man who had been her brother.

Boy, that was quick.

It was funny when the creators pointed to this moment as being the first real tell, and her fandom losing it.

It wasn’t a commentary on whether he deserved to die, they were referring to her quick disassociation during the violence, you muppets.

+.+

He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon.    

Read a book, Daenerys.

Final thoughts:

Imagine not seeing Dark!Dany coming from a mile away from the very first book. Can’t relate.

-> return to menu <-

[kabie-whump]

✧･ﾟRipe, About to Fall - Part 9 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from ‘Liquid Smooth’ by Mitski

Series Description and Warnings

Masterlist, First, Previous

Chapter Summary: Athos has some guests over. Dramaaaa

Chapter Content: references to past child abuse, master/pet dynamics, betrayal, a lot of talk about whipping and branding but it doesn't happen onscreen, drug withdrawl/addiction

Onthyes does not belong to me. He was created by my wonderful gf @sapphicccici and I have kidnapped him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Have you learned your lesson?”

Ventis could barely understand what Athos was saying. The vial of nightspill - the one thing capable of ending his suffering - in his master’s hand captured all of his attention.

He rolled over to expose his arm, the sweat-damp covers twisting around him. He couldn’t remember when he’d been taken to bed. Probably some time after he started hallucinating and sobbing from pain in front of someone important. It’d been a while since then. A whole night, probably.  Athos smells like fresh coffee and a crack in the curtains lets in a sliver of orange light.

“Yes,” Ventis gasped. “Please, I’m sorry. Please make it stop.”

Athos’s expression softened, his hand going to stroke Ventis’s hair. “Oh, my poor little bird. You look a mess. Did you have a hard night without me next to you?”

Ventis nodded, not really aware of what he was agreeing with. “Please,” he whimpered. “It hurts. I need you.”

“Alright, darling. Only since you asked so nicely.”

Ventis sobbed with relief as Athos gently injected the nightspill into his veins. The pain drained away, replaced with a soothing numbness, and his world came back into focus. 

“Thank you, master,” Ventis gasped.

Athos just smiled as he unlocked and removed the cuff from Ventis’s wrist. A wave of static electricity escaped him with a buzzing sound, making the blankets stick to Ventis’s skin.

“I need you to be on your best behavior today, pet,” Athos said as Ventis found a glass of water on his bedside table and chugged it, soothing his painfully dry mouth. “I will be having some guests over for dinner. They are nobles from a kingdom north of here, and it is important to me that we impress them.”

Ventis nodded his understanding, wiping excess water from his mouth with his sleeve. “I’ll be good,” he assured Athos.

“I know you will do your best, darling. However, due to your lapse in behavior a few days ago I will have to enact some preventive measures. First, I expect complete silence from you. Tomorrow you will receive five lashes for every word I hear from you tonight. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“Second, you will be bound tonight. Not tightly enough to interfere with your duties, of course, but enough to serve as a reminder of your place here. I know you are not accustomed to working this way, but nonetheless I expect nothing but grace from you at all times.”

“I understand, master.”

“Good. I have some preparations to attend to, so I will leave you to gather yourself. The next time we see each other I expect silence.”

Ventis allows himself to sit quietly and enjoy the relief provided by the nightspill, a heavy weight squashing down his rebellious emotions. He had spent the last day and night in turmoil; hating Athos, mourning Onthyes, longing for freedom. But everything felt okay again now. He had been silly and irrational for wanting to run away with the first big strong guard to treat him like a person. He didn’t need any of that. He had everything he needed right here with Athos.

Ventis was able to relax into the long process of being prepared for the evening’s events. His hair was styled, his teeth, horns, and scales polished, his clothing carefully selected from a closet that took up an entire room of its own. 

The bindings that were put on him were more for show than anything else. A long, delicate golden chain spilled down from his collar and split to loop around each wrist, which were loosely bound together in front of his body in a similar fashion. His ankles were linked together as well by a chain that left enough room for him to walk slowly but not so much room that he could break into a run. He could probably break the chains if he really wanted to. 

“The master’s guests are here,” a maid poked her head into Ventis’s room to announce. “They’re in the sitting room.”

Ventis took one last look at himself in the mirror, unable to stop himself from smiling at the wave of pride in his beauty. The garment he wore left very little to the imagination as always. This one in particular was open in the back in a way that very clearly showed off the brand Athos had given him. It still looked bad, but not as bad as it had yesterday. 

The symbol had made a clean impression on his skin, clearly announcing exactly who Ventis belonged to.

“Alright. I’m going,” he said, savoring the last words he would speak that night. 

As Ventis made his way down to the main sitting room he could hear voices that made an uncomfortable itch tingle at his spine. He pushed the feeling aside. They sounded familiar, sure, but he was just being paranoid. 

Then he entered the sitting room. His eyes locked on to the two men sitting across from Athos instantly.

No. Gods no.

It had only been three years, but Theodore looked older. His form was bulkier, his horns were longer, and he appeared to be cultivating a beard that Ventis would love to tease him for in any other situation. 

Their shared father looked exactly the same. Tall. Powerful. Stone cold. 

Ventis had rarely seen the man express any emotion other than disappointment and the occasional flash of rage, but the moment that their eyes met something crossed his face that Ventis didn’t recognize.

“What is the meaning of this?” Father’s voice was carefully controlled, but it was echoed by an audible crack of thunder from outside - unusual considering that it was meant to be a completely clear day. The room dropped ten degrees in an instant. Suddenly Ventis was a little kid again, suppressing the urge to run and hide from his father’s wrath.

Athos turned around to look at Ventis and the grin on his face said everything. He’d planned this. This was a punishment. He’d called Ventis’s father and brother here just to humiliate him, and now he was basking in the chaos he’d caused. 

“I-”

“Five.”

Right. Five lashes per word. That conniving bastard.

Ventis shut his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His feet were rooted to the floor. He’d gotten to the point that he didn’t mind being exposed in front of others, but now that he stood in front of his father and his brother he was hyper-aware of every inch of bare skin. 

At least they seemed equally shocked and horrified. Theodore’s eyes were wide, his face bright red as he seemed unsure of where to look. Father was still struggling to contain himself. Raindrops began to thump against the windows.

“Don’t be shy, pet,” Athos said flippantly, turning back around to face his guests. “You know your place.”

Ventis wondered if he’d be able to break the window and throw himself out before someone stopped him. He might just be able to manage it. But instead he let his feet carry him to Athos, where he settled on the cushion on the floor in front of the man.

More thunder. Theodore failed at suppressing a strangled sound. Father had gone completely stone-faced.

Part of Ventis was glad that his father was seeing what he had become. I’m here because of you, he wanted to scream. I’m like this because you banished me. Now sit there and fucking face it.

Athos rested a hand on Ventis’s head, playing with his hair. “This is Ventis, my treasured companion,” he said proudly, pretending to be unaware of the tension that had fallen over the room. “Please, pay him no mind. You were telling me about your efforts to combat piracy on the northern coast?”

Ventis winced, seeing Father’s eyes widen at the use of his name. He hadn’t been going by Ventis before he was banished. 

Father took a single deep breath, composing himself. “Yes, I have put certain countermeasures in place to discourage piracy-”

“I apologize,” Theodore cut in. “Are we supposed to just ignore this?” He gestured towards Ventis.

“Theodore,” Father warned under his breath.

“Oh? Is there an issue here? Do people not have pets in your kingdom?” Athos was lying. There was no way he didn’t know what he was doing when he invited them here.

“This boy,” Father said disdainfully, “used to be my son and Theodore’s half-brother. But there is no issue, because he is no longer a member of our family. He is nothing to us.”

Ventis traced the intricate patterns on the carpet with his eyes.

“Ah, well, you know what they say. One man’s trash is another’s treasure.”

The topic was turned away from Ventis after that. He could almost tune them out and pretend like the two men in front of him were any other guests of Athos’s. 

Almost, but every time Father hummed in that one way he did when he was trying to pretend his conversation partner wasn’t boring him he had to suppress the urge to flinch. And every time Theodore gave in to his nervous compulsion to pick at his fingernails Ventis had to keep himself from reaching out and stopping him with a teasing, “You’ll ruin your manicure, brother.”

Dinner was ready not much later. Ventis took his usual place standing against the wall, a pitcher of wine in hand.

His stomach growled. He hadn’t been able to eat yesterday, the withdrawals tearing at his stomach with a ferocity that pushed him to turn down any food offered to him. A maid had brought him breakfast this morning, but he hadn’t eaten since then and he knew that he wouldn’t eat again unless Athos thought to offer him something. Dinners like this always made him feel like a dog waiting for its owner to drop table scraps.

Athos held up his empty glass, just slightly higher than would be considered casual, and Ventis rushed forward to fill it in an instant. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the man’s signals anymore. Serving him was second nature.

"I have never seen him so obedient before,” Father said, watching Ventis over his own glass.

Ventis tensed, but he finished filling Athos’s cup and stepped back silently. 

“Oh? Did he behave differently as a child?”

“There was a period of time in which I was convinced he was deaf. He never listened. What is your secret?”

Athos barked out a laugh. “It’s simple, really. Ventis serves me because he loves me. I give him everything he may ever want and he gives me his entire self. He belongs to me - body and mind - and he does so willingly because he knows no one else will ever treat him as well as I do. That combined with a heavy hand in punishment when the need arises does well at keeping him in line.”

An amused smirk pulls at the corner of Father’s lips. He knocked back the last sip of his wine, then gestured Ventis over. 

Ventis felt his heart sink with every step he took around the table to his father’s side. He studiously avoided eye contact as he filled the glass. 

Father’s hand shot out as Ventis began to step away, taking his wrist in a tight grip. 

Ventis gasped. He was eight and thirteen and sixteen and twenty all at once. He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes, but he could feel them boring into his face, picking out every single weakness.

“How does he punish you?” Father asked, his voice filled with a detached curiosity. 

Ventis glanced at Athos. He’d been ordered not to speak.

Athos waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be rude, pet. Answer him.”

Satisfied with the permission, Ventis returned his attention to his father. “Lashes, mostly,” he admitted. “He has an enchanted whip. It doesn’t leave marks.”

Father released his grip on Ventis’s wrist and Ventis stepped back immediately, his heart pounding. 

“Sixty,” Athos muttered between bites of food.

No.

Ventis whipped his head around to look at him. “But you said-”

“Seventy-five.”

That shut him up. He should’ve known Athos would do this. The man had given him permission to speak, but he had not revoked the looming threat of punishment for it. 

The rest of the night went by without issue. Dinner was consumed and cleared away, drinks were poured in the parlor, and then Father and Theodore were saying their goodbyes. Ventis didn’t miss the long, loaded look Theodore sent him as they left, but he couldn’t ackowledge it. 

The air was tense as Ventis and Athos retired to the bedroom that night. Ventis had never felt so deeply betrayed by anyone before. He couldn’t even bear to look at Athos as he undressed and joined him under the thick blankets. 

“You may speak now,” Athos said, opening his arms for Ventis to lay on his chest.

Ventis settled against him but did not speak. It was probably another trick. Athos had said before that he shouldn’t speak for the entire night.

“It was an astounding coincidence - your father and brother being my guests tonight. Were you surprised?”

Ventis nodded.

“Words please, darling.”

It had to be a trick. He wasn’t falling for it.

“Ventis.” Athos gripped his chin, forcing eye contact. Ventis barely suppressed a whimper. “Why won’t you speak?”

It took a long moment of silence before realization dawned across Athos’s face. “I am being genuine. Your evening of silence is over now.”

Ventis just stared at him, wide eyed and confused.

“Speak, or I’ll double the number of lashes I owe you tomorrow.”

That did the trick. Ventis would much rather take an extra five or ten lashes than another seventy-five. “Yes, master,” he whispered. “I am sorry.”

“One hundred,” Athos said with a satisfied grin. 

--- Theodore’s POV ---

It had been satisfying to Theodore at first, finally seeing where his brother had ended up after all these years. It made sense that a dramatic attention whore like him would find himself on the arm of some rich narcissist. 

And it quelled any inkling of worry he may have had, any small fear that Jasper had ended up dead on the streets. No, he was fine - dressed up in gold and jewels and lounging at the feet of someone who would never see him suffer. It was a degrading position to be in, of course, but there are much worse fates to be had.

Theodore had never been as smart as Jasper (as Ventis? Athos had called him Ventis. Did he change his name?). But he was still smart enough to pick up the ever growing clues as the night went on. The golden chains on his throat, wrists, and ankles weren’t just jewlery. They were shackles. An angry burn in the shape of Athos’s personal crest stood out starkly against Ventis’s skin. And then there was the way Athos and Father had talked so casually about flogging him.

It made Theodore’s skin crawl, the blatant display of abuse coming from Athos. He and Jasper had always been rivals but they were never enemies. The hatred was there but it was impure, laced with jealousy and begrudging respect and the tiniest moments of adoration. How could father look into the face of what Athos was doing to Jasper with so little care?

Theodore tried to banish the evening from his mind as they said their goodbyes and boarded a carriage to their next destination. Father would be leaving in the morning, but Theodore was to spend the next month studying in Nimbria, living under the roof of the city’s captain of guard, Richard Ventura. He had a son, apparently. A man named Onthyes who was a few years older than Theodore and undoubtedly a good influence. 

He couldn’t let the revelation of what was happening to Jasper distract him from his duties here. After returning home he would be expected to finally take on a real political role in his kingdom. He needed to be ready. He couldn’t disappoint his father.

Onthyes was said to be disciplined and focused, a picture perfect eldest son and shoo-in for his father’s position someday. A man like him will surely help keep Theodore’s mind off of Jasper.

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@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump @sleepyiswhumping

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor... - c.1

Summary: Penny Townsend is going to attend her first criminology class. What she didn’t expect was professor Walter Marshall.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

A/N: I hope you enjoy this Professor!AU -- can you imagine? Walter Marshall as a professor? 🤤

Masterlist // But professor... masterlist // Next chapter

✎ ✎ ✎

My parents hoped that I would become a doctor. I get it—being friends with a lot of successful parents with equally successful children, must’ve raised their standard for me. They however must’ve known that medicine wasn’t it for me and going to law school isn’t my forte either. It must’ve been hard on them, knowing I wasn’t that intellectually gifted, though they tried their best for me to be.

They did a lot for me. At the ripe age of two to five hours, I was placed at the entrance of a church in Maryland. The pastor and his wife discovered me and brought me to the hospital, only to found out I wasn’t just a couple weeks premature, but also had a lot of heroin in my system.

My birth parents barely gave me a chance the second I was born (probably when I was conceived, but okay) and that is why I am so grateful that my adoptive parents care so much about me.

And that’s why I want to make them proud and studying psychology is my best chance at being the successful daughter they deserve, but man does it feel wrong to be here. I know there is another student out there who deserves to be here, who actually wants to do this, yet here I am taking their place.

Psychology wasn’t the greatest choice already, but having to take criminology was an even bigger mistake. I walk into the lecture hall for the first criminology class. My hands shake because of the nerves, they’re even clammy. I’m not good at making friends, so seeing those cliques that has formed after only two weeks of university, makes me slightly jealous and really alone.

I never really fitted in. My teachers would describe me as a sweet young girl, who is painfully shy.

That, of course, is if they even noticed me at all.

It can be hard to fit in, especially when you feel out of place the second you enter a room, like I have felt since I can remember.

‘Take a seat,’ I hear a deep voice say and I look up, to meet the eyes of the professor. He is unlike all of my other professors. He isn’t in a suit or at least some decent slacks. His denim jeans hugs his thick thighs, as he wears a sweater on top. His curls are disheveled and slightly frizzy and his beard is asymmetrical. A deep frown in between his brows.

‘Me?’ I ask in a soft tone.

He nods. ‘You,’ he confirms.

I walk passed him to choose a seat in the back. I take place and look around me, only to meet the eyes of the professor again. While I wonder what made him choose teaching, since he doesn’t look like someone who was born to teach, I also ponder about the fact he is looking at me again.

Why would he do that?

I grab my laptop and open it, opening a new document. I’ve been going to NYU for two weeks now, yet this is my first criminology class. I run my fingers through my hair, pushing up the glasses on my nose bridge.

‘Okay everyone,’ I hear the professor say, when it’s time for the class to start. ‘There is a sheet going around. Find the spot you’re sitting now and write down your name. If I find out you are messing with me, you have failed your class immediately.’

He is not beating around the bush.

‘I’m detective Walter Marshall. I have worked for the MPD, the Minneapolis Police Department. For this semester there are three subjects we’ll cover. Victimology, crime analysis and the psychology of criminal behavior.’

This is not at all what I want to learn. This is too gore for me. I should’ve stood up to my parents and go to cosmetology school like I originally wanted. It’s better for me anyways.

I’m so stupid.

The paper ends up on my table and I try to find my place on it. I write down ‘Penelope Townsend’ and slide it to the person two tables over. Professor Marshall explains how we have a weekly lecture of two hours and how he is available for questions every Friday, since he’ll be in his office.

‘Does anyone have any questions?’

A guy raises his hand. ‘Why aren’t you working for the MPD anymore, sir?’

Professor Marshall sits on the edge of his desk, crossing his muscular arms in front of his chest. ‘I was put on leave.’

‘Why?’

‘There were some issues,’ he says. ‘Between me and suspects.’

I have no idea what he is implying, but the silence in the classroom is so thick, that I have a clue what types of issues came with said suspects.

‘Really?’ the guy asks.

The professor only raises his eyebrows, which obviously means he isn’t joking. You don’t need to have studied Psychology to figure that out. ‘Any more questions?

‘Do we work in pairs for the assignment?’ a girl asks.

He shakes his head. ‘No, individual works only.’

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank the stars, I don’t want to work with others. Really, I don’t.

‘Okay, if that’s all, let me start right away. What do these women have in common?’ He presses a button on his presenter and the screen behind him changes. Three pictures of women appear on the screen. It’s their driver’s license photo.

‘They’re women,’ a guy says, causing a few to laugh.

Professor Marshall grabs the paper with names and says: ‘Does anyone have something less obvious to comment than mister Fitzgerald?’ He seems not amused at all by the words of Fitzgerald.

‘Brown hair, blue eyes,’ a girl says.

He nods. ‘And?’

‘They’re pretty,’ another girl says.

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ he notes. His eyes scan the paper and he looks up. ‘Miss Townsend, do you have something to add?’

Our eyes meet again and I realize that I’m the only miss Townsend in the class. I clear my throat and look at the pictures. Say something smart, Penny. Say something intelligent. Really intelligent.

The obvious things have already been said, so I should stay away from those things.

I swallow hard, press my glasses better on my nose and say: ‘Their left eyelid is slightly droopy.’

I hear some people chuckle a bit, making me feel everything but intelligent.

‘Quiet,’ professor Marshall says and the chuckles die down instantly. ‘Their droopy left eyelid is what made them appealing to the killer.’ He looks up from the other side of class, right at me. His slightly annoyed gaze dissolves for a few moments into a soft one. ‘Miss Townsend made an excellent point here. It took an entire police department to come to that conclusion over the course of two months.’

Oh my goodness, I made an excellent point.

The slides change and I see another picture. This time it’s of a man. It’s a mugshot. I bet he is the killer.

‘Miss Townsend, since you are on a roll,’ the professor continues and I nearly groan. Really? He wants me to answer another questions? ‘What’s do you notice about this man?’

I scan his entire face. He has a crooked nose, blemishes on his forehead and thin lips. He looks like a killer. This would be the type of man I would avoid if I came across him.

‘His left eyelid is also droopy,’ I say.

Is that a tiny smirk on his lips? ‘Correct.’ While professor Marshall continues to explain about how his own appearance is unknowingly influencing his choice of victims, I can’t help but beam a little with pride. ‘Because,’ he continues, ‘if you understand your victims, you can understand your killer.’ The slideshow changes to one word. ‘Welcome to victimology.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Time spend in a lecture hall while professor Marshall teaches flies by. Though he is a bit grumpy and not very welcoming, he is interesting and smart. Much better than my other teachers. I put everything in my backpack, before I get up from my seat. I’m one of the last students to leave the place, mostly because I don’t want to be swarmed by the cliques.

‘Miss Townsend,’ professor Marshall says, causing me to stop misstep as I already passed him.

I turn around. ‘Yes?’ I ask.

He doesn’t look up from his notes. ‘You did well in class today.’

Is this man giving me a compliment? He might be the first one in a teacher like position to ever notice me, let alone give me a compliment. ‘I did?’

‘Yeah,’ he says, now looking up from his notes. ‘Don’t hesitate to say something in class next time. You have great insight.’

‘Or just luck,’ I say.

Professor Marshall shakes his head. ‘No, this isn’t about luck, this is good insight. So, can you promise me to raise your hand next class?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘Why can’t you?’

‘What I said: this was luck and it probably won’t happen again. I have to go. I reserved a spot at the library. If that is all, sir?’

He doesn’t say anything, simply looks at me. It takes a second, maybe two before he nods. ‘If you have questions,’ he says, ‘you know how to contact me.’

I nod, before I walk out of the hall. I see students gathering in front of the door and I quickly slip through them and make my way to the library. I’ve been going to classes for around two weeks now and I’m still up to date as we speak. I decide to at least make a beginning with the assignments of my criminology class, because the sooner I start, the less work and stress I’ll experience later on, because I most definitely will stress about it.

It’s been quite awhile since I opened a book for school for assignments or preparing for exams. After high school, I decided to take a gap year, which ended in two. I’ve traveled with all sorts of groups to different countries, worked at an international cafe in Japan for awhile. It did help me with my social skills. I was happy, social and totally in my element. Those wonderful skills were all forgotten the second I stepped foot back in the USA again.

It was my parents that pushed for going back to college and once they figured out that medicine or law wasn’t up my alley, they agreed psychology, though it wasn’t my thing either.

It’s okay, sure, but… Gosh, I miss the freedom I had during the gap years. I’m not stupid, but is the academical life for me? I have looked at cosmetology school and boy do I wish I was there at the moment.

And not here.

✎ ✎ ✎

I don’t know how long I have been at the library, but my eyes are tired by the time I close my laptop. Besides working on my assignment, I also texted my parents to tell them everything is going fine and checked out multiple cosmetology schools here in the area.

Originally I’m from Maryland, meaning it’s only a three hour drive to see my parents and for them to check in on me. I considered lying about my major, about attending NYU and just go to cosmetology school, but mom and dad are paying my tuition, which is another loophole in my plan.

I put the laptop in my backpack and walk out of the library. Every second my mind wasn’t occupied with university related things, it went straight back to my first criminology class, more specifically my professor. His words. It’s one thing he said those things to me, but another that he looked so handsome while saying it.

‘There she is,’ I hear from behind me as I walk through the hallways to the exit. I turn around to discover it’s Fitzgerald. I forgot his first name, which is weird since we share a lot of the same classes together. He isn’t easy to miss. Pleasant on the eyes, that’s for sure, but he is loud, thinks he is hilarious and that makes him kinda annoying. ‘Miss Townsend,’ he says in a mocking tone.

Okay, change kinda annoying to absolutely insufferable.

‘Hm?’

Fitzgerald walks next to me and he comes a lot closer than I prefer. ‘You’re already the teacher’s pet,’ he continues. ‘Bet the man has a thing for Asian chicks.’

I have no idea how to respond to that implication. My instinct says to get out of here, but the exit is right ahead of me and from the looks of it, Fitzgerald is going there as well. So there is no escape.

‘But let’s say it’s beginners luck,’ he says, ‘because it was actually the first time I heard you speak.’

‘You mind leaving me alone?’ I ask.

‘Why is that, sugar boo?’

Okay, now I’m gonna vomit. Goosebumps run over my spine and the hairs in my neck are standing straight up. I bet this guy’s dad is rich, therefore the only reason he is here. ‘I don’t want you here.’

‘You don’t want me here?’ He starts to chuckle. ‘Sweetheart, everyone wants me here.’

Not me.

‘Fitzgerald, are you deaf?’

It’s professor Marshall.

His eyes enlarge when he realizes that too. ‘No, sir,’ he quickly says.

‘She said she doesn’t want you here.’ He stands in front of the two of us, looking everything but amused. ‘You know, back when I was working, I encountered a lot of guys like you. Did you know they usually peak in high school, do okay in college, but the second they end up locked up in jail—and I promise you, they most often will—they aren’t so tough anymore. They usually end up as someone’s bitch.’

To hear this entire monologue and the word bitch from a professor, was not at all what I was expecting. Fitzgerald’s face is drained from all its color. While Fitzgerald looks like he shat himself, I am utterly amazed. I wish I was this intimidating, I think to myself.

Fitzgerald clears his throat, eyes darting around the hallway, almost as if he is trying to find the closest exit. He shoots out of this place very quickly, meaning I’m left with only our professor.

‘Thank you, sir,’ I say.

Professor Marshall simply nods. ‘You know, if you lowered your shoulders, you’d appear more confident.’

Why do I feel so offended? ‘Oh…’

‘It’s advice, miss Townsend, not criticism.’

‘Oh,’ I say again, this time in a whisper like tone. He could’ve brought it up a bit nicer though. No need to hurt my feelings like that.

Professor Marshall and I both walk towards the exit and I notice it’s raining. Great, guess who didn’t bring her umbrella and also isn’t wearing a jacket with a hood?

Absolutely fantastic.

‘Here,’ the professor says, holding out his umbrella for me.

Is this truly happening? ‘Oh, sir, that’s not necessary.’

‘I insist.’

With some hesitation I grab the umbrella from him and smile. ‘Thank you, professor.’

He politely nods and walks off, leaving me with the umbrella and a little bit confused. Though he looks so handsome and slightly intimidating, he still is nice to me. The only teacher ever. Maybe Fitzgerald is right and—

No, no, no, don’t think like that. It’s not that every man who is nice to me all of the sudden has this fetish. That can’t be it, right?

Maybe, despite my aversion, I am actually good at the whole criminology thing and isn’t it a one time thing. Luck. Maybe I do have something I am good at.

✎ ✎ ✎

That Friday I am still on campus after I spend my entire afternoon in the library. Since I have a question about the criminology assignment, I decide walk to the office of professor Marshall. To kill two birds with one stone, I brought his umbrella with me so I can give it back. I knock on the door and hear a low: ‘Come in.’

I open the door and am met with the professor, who is sitting behind is desk. ‘Sir, I have a question about the assignment.’

He leans back in his chair and gestures me to come in. I close the door behind me and expect to sit, until I notice there isn’t a chair anywhere for me to sit on. How unwelcome of him, I think to myself. Does that mean I have to remain standing?

‘What’s your question, miss Townsend?’

‘I didn’t know which format I had to use for the entire assignment. It’s not really that big of a deal, but I was here in the building and I thought that I could…’ Nice way of getting off track, Penny. As they said in high school musical: ‘Get’cha your head in the game’ and this is  not the game. ‘Never mind. Which format should I use?’

‘That’s up to you,’ he says.

That’s it? That’s the answer he is gonna give me?

‘Right,’ I mumble.

‘Other questions, miss Townsend?’

Yes. I let out a deep sigh. ‘The assignment is just harder than I thought,’ I admit. ‘I don’t really understand it.’

Professor Marshall stands up and holds out his hand. ‘Sit, I’ll try to explain it.’

‘In your chair?’

He simply nods and I walk around the desk, to take a seat, while he leans against the windowsill. Oh, the leather is warm… What a body heat does this man produce. ‘Okay, the point of the assignment is to use some of the example files of—staged—murders. Based on the file you choose, you choose a format. You write out the victimology, try to narrate who the killer is, writing down all your findings and there are things I’m gonna talk about in next classes.’

I nod. ‘That makes it easier, thank you, sir.’

‘You’re already working on the assignment?’ he asks. Why does he sound genuinely surprised?

I nod again. ‘I am. I find it easier to work a bit every day, than to cram it all in one day.’ I realize how that sounds. ‘That sounds dorky.’

‘It doesn’t really. It’s a whole lot better than what I did back in the days,’ he says. ‘What did you think of the class?’

Is he asking for my opinion? ‘Your class was very interesting. Slightly morbid though, but fascinating.’

‘Morbid?’ the professor asks. ‘There was nothing morbid about my class.’

I scrunch up my nose. ‘It was kinda scary. With the blood patterns and all. The peek into the murderer’s mind?’ I shiver. ‘Don’t know, felt too personal and too much into the killer’s brain.’

‘The class you’re taking is criminology,’ he says, ‘you should’ve known.’

I shrug, not knowing what to say to him. He is right…

‘Miss Townsend—’

‘Penny,’ I say. ‘It’s Penny. Penelope officially, but people barely call me that.’ People barely call out for me ever, but that’s a different topic. Total different topic.

‘Penny,’ he says, ‘could’ve known.’

I don’t know what he is implying, but I realize I am totally overstaying. ‘I’m sorry, I should go. Thanks for helping me out. Oh, I brought you back your umbrella. I don’t need it anyways.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘Okay.’

‘I should go. It’s getting kinda dark already.’

‘Let me guess, you don’t do well in the dark.’

I smile almost out of guilt. ‘That obvious?’

For a brief moment I spot a smirk on his face. ‘I’m a detective, I spot these things.’

Okay, not gonna lie, but that’s pretty funny. ‘See you next class, professor,’ I say, standing up from his chair and I walk towards the door.

‘See you next class, Penny.’

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x Oc ) Chapter 4

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! 

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“Dearest, I am  appalled. “ My father said apologetically. “ Jungkook told me what happened at the dinner and I’m beginning to rethink this whole idea. These pups need to be on a leash , if they cannot control themselves to this extent.” 

I was curled up on the couch next to my dad, his fingers gently stroking my hair while he stared at the screen in front of us. It carried all the accounts of the mansion for the week and the numbers made my head swim . So I ignored it, eating the freshly baked macarons that  cook had sent up from the kitchen. 

My father occasionally consulted from a bunch of files spread out on the table in front of him and I shuddered again when I thought about Mingyu. 

“He was an awful choice father. I should have just told you to set things up with Yugyeom.” I grimaced. 

My father nodded at once.

“Of course dearest, I’ll talk to him myself and see if he’s free this weekend. Will that work for you?”

“thank you father.” I said brightly, curling up next to him.

For a few minutes, we both stayed quiet, him humming as he leafed through the files, me munching on a few ripe tangerine pieces. 

“What do you think of Jungkook?” My father said suddenly, making me cough. 

I swallowed, throat dry.

My father felt me stiffen against him and he chuckled. 

“Don’t panic, love. I am way too old not to recognize heartache when I see it. Especially in my own daughter. Your display at the breakfast table yesterday was quite unlike you and I realized, it’s not just a silly infatuation anymore, is it  ? ” He rubbed the back of his fingers on my cheek, soothing and gentle. 

I didn’t reply. 

“I think he’s a good...man.” I finished.

“Ahhh...” My father chuckled. “  Man.  Here I am , trying to foist you off on boys who’ve barely popped their fangs for the first time .... when it is obvious that what you need is someone reliable and in control. Therein lies the appeal, does it not, dearest? ” 

I flushed red, scrambling to sit up , and clutching the fabric of my skirt in a death grip. 

“It’s... it’s stupid. I’ll get over it.” I choked out. 

My father hummed. 

“Have you told him how you feel?” He asked gently and I stared at him.

“You’re not mad.?” I whispered.

My father chuckled.

“Why would I be mad?  I’ve known him for five whole centuries. He’s a fine, upstanding man. Jungkook is fair and strong. He is more than capable of taking care of you and the best part, you would be able to live here forever. I would be lucky to have him as my son in law.” He said firmly. 

I felt my body go lax in disbelief. 

“Somi .. Somi said...That you wouldn’t approve. Because he isn’t from a strong clan. ”

“Somi worries too much about what the others in our clan may say.  Especially your uncle. He’s coming back soon remember? “ My father grimaced. 

I felt a shiver run through me. 

“Uncle Jaebum? He’s coming back?” I whispered, terrified. 

My father hummed, kissing the side of my head.

“Yes he is, love. But don’t worry. I’ll handle him. Your uncle still believes that lineage plays some role in how a vampire turns out but couldn’t be more wrong. i mean , young Mr. Mingyu has single handedly proven  that theory wrong , hasn’t he?” My father shook his head, laughing, “  So tell me, has Jungkook agreed to court you?” 

I groaned. 

“He has categorically stated that he doesn’t want to court me.” I said softly.

My father laughed at that.

“That must’ve been a novel experience for you.” 

I pouted. 

“Father!” I whined. 

“Alright, alright ...dearest. I won’t tease. Did he say why? ” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. 

“Because I’m too young? Possibly.... He said something about carrying too much baggage and not wanting to ruin my life.” 

My father made a noise of impatience.

“The boy is an overthinker. He’s always been that way. He doesn’t look that way but he cares deeply about hurting others. It’s possible he’s only trying to protect you. Albeit in a very misguided way. “

“ Perhaps. But, whatever the reason, he’s not willing to court me. So, no. i don’t think he wants to be your son in law. I wish I could change his mind. ” I muttered, snuggling closer into him. 

“Ah, you know I can’t change his mind for you, don’t you flower? That’s your job...”

I sighed. 

“I know...” 

“If Jungkook does choose to court you. You will have my blessing. I will give you a wedding that will make the world watch in awe. “ He said firmly. 

i laughed. 

“Really? You made Somi marry Jimin in the barn on the estate.” I grinned. 

“Well, Don’t tell your brothers and sisters but you are my favorite after all. “ He whispered conspiratorially and I grinned. 

It was funny because I knew he wasn’t even lying. 

After my mother had left the clan, my father had taken on the role with enthusiasm. Unlike the head of clans all over the world, my father was approachable , friendly and deeply involved in his children’s lives. And he had always adored me. 

“And even if Jungkook doesn’t realize how amazing you are, remember that there are plenty of good men out there. I want you to be happy, dearest. I will not settle for anything less than your complete happiness. “ My father said fiercely and I hugged him closer. 

I loved this man too damn much. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ You’re so good at what you do, Sera .” Lee Minhyuk gave me a seductive smile as he watched me wrestle his one year old daughter into her booties with one hand while i kept the other wrapped around her to stop her from toppling backwards on the small seat. 

 How about you stop flirting and help me dress your daughter , you asshole, I thought angrily, grunting from the effort of crouching for long periods of time. 

When the fluffy blue fur boots were finally on, I gave little Cherin’s squishy thighs a soft squeeze, pressing a kiss to her perfect cheeks. 

“Good bye cherry berry...” I sang softly, waving gently as she hugged her father’s legs before being scooped up into his arms. 

“So, are you free this friday? We could get something to eat?” Minhyuk gave me a wink. 

His wife was out of town. 

I offered a polite smile in return. 

“I’m going to have to pass on that. I don’t date parents, Minhyuk ssi.” I bowed my head lightly. 

Minhyuk looked annoyed but his gaze flitted to the 6′3″ man behind me, and he didn’t push the subject, merely bowing before leaving. 

Behind me Jungkook cleared his throat. 

I turned and he gave me a slow, lazy smirk. 

“You don’t date parents? Does that mean we’re not on for tonight anymore?” His eyes danced with mirth, mischief glinting in the black orbs. 

I flushed red. 

“Stop it, “ i hissed peering over his shoulder to make sure none of the other workers in the daycare had heard him. 

Jungkook smiled a little at the panic in my face. 

“But then , it isn’t really a date is it? You only want my body.” He sighed deeply in faux disappointment. 

I gave him an impish smile.

“It is the best thing you have on offer....” I shrugged. 

He laughed.

“Fair enough. Did you tell your dad about Mingyu? ” He asked as the workers began to leave one by one. Joowon had left with some of the other kids earlier, Jimin and Somi having promised to take the kids in the clan out for icecream. 

I picked up the stray blocks, dropping them into the huge laundry basket repurposed as a toy bag. i got on my hands and knees to peer under the huge wooden dresser in the corner, looking for stray blocks or toys and picking a few. 

 My back screamed in protest and i wondered if I was going to spend the rest of eternity with an achy back. I was just too young to be feeling this old. 

Was Park Jimin onto something with the whole yoga and stretching and exercise and healthy eating ? Should I stop binge eating french fries and possibly start eating salads? 

I sighed, straightening up and twisting my torso a bit only to find Jungkook with his gaze leveled very obviously  on my ass. 

So much so he didn’t even notice I was looking at him. 

I cleared my throat and his gaze left my butt, meeting mine with an absolutely unrepentant look on his face. 

“What?” He shrugged. “ I’m just seeing what I’m going to be working with tonight .” 

I felt my face flame, hating the way an absolutely ridiculous smile was threatening to make its way onto my face. I turned away quickly, crawling on all fours to the next dresser and peering under it too. 

once all the toys were put away and I’d double checked the to do list on the board , We finally closed the day care down for the night. It was just  little past six and I stood by the door, watching while he carefully checked all the side gates and the backyard. 

Slipping the key into my backpack , I began the walk back to the mansion and he fell into step next to me. 

“You didn’t answer my question....” He said softly and I blinked.

“Oh?” I couldn’t remember. 

“ Did you tell your father what happened with Mingyu?”

“Did you?” I retorted. and he shrugged. 

“I had to give a complete play by play report. Your father was incredibly upset.” 

I chuckled. 

“He’s very protective of me..” I shrugged.

Jungkook went tellingly quiet.

I felt foreboding rise inside me. Jungkook inhaled sharply, obviously staring to say something but i cut him off quickly. 

“He likes you!!” I blurted out quickly. “ I mean..he approves of you... Told me he wouldn’t mind you being his son in law.” 

My lack of filter was going to get me  killed  one of these days. 

Jungkook however seemed more amused than annoyed. 

“Well, considering the kind of candidates in the race, I can see why he would prefer me. “ He laughed. 

I frowned. There was something smug in his tone that irked me. He shouldn’t get to be smug about something like that when he didn’t even want to be with me in the first place. 

“They’re not all clowns. Yugyeom is a great guy.” I said sharply.

Jungkook’s eyebrow shot up.

“Is it so?”

I nodded, honest. 

“He’s older... almost two centuries old now and he’s a good friend.” 

“Two centuries? How on earth did he become your friend?” 

“He was one of my tutors during college. So I kind of had a crush on him.... It was all exciting .... You know, teacher and student .....forbidden love and all that “ I smiled. 

Jungkook gave me a cheeky smile. 

“Ahh...ever sucked his dick off under the desk? Or dreamed of it at least? ” He asked casually and I choked.

“ What? “ 

“Why do you look so shocked? isn’t that the most common of fantasies?“

I glared at him .

“No... I did not. That’s indecent.” 

He stopped walking. 

I walked a few steps ahead and paused, turning to stare at him. 

“What?” I demanded. 

“Sera , what the actual fuck do you think we’re going to be doing tonight?” He asked thoughtfully. 

I spluttered . 

“I... Its different. I was too young back then. Of course I know what you’re going to do tonight.” I said impatiently, turning around to keep going. 

But his hand shot out, gripping my arm and pulling me to him. I crashed into his chest, gripping the fabric to steady myself. 

“For someone who was so eager to have me show her the ‘ ropes’ , you’re quite intent on running from me, anytime i bring it up.” He whispered. 

i stared resolutely at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. It wasn’t that I was shy per se. But just looking at his face made me lose my braincells. 

“I’m not running away. I just....” Don’t want to read too much into your flirting. Your teasing. Your interest in me. I have to keep my heart safe and I can’t do that with you offering me all of your attention....

“Don’t be nervous, alright? I’ll take good care of you.” He smiled softly. 

 God, I hated this man. 

I could feel heat pool in my belly, spreading all over my body and the urge to throw myself into his arms was so overwhelming.

“I know you will. “ I said softly, finally looking up at him, pressing my palm to his face. “ You’re a good man. A kind man. I knew the minute I saw you that you’d take good care of me. ” 

The words seemed to affect him and he bit his lips, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away from his face.  

“We should go.” He said shortly, pushing away from me and walking away briskly. 

“Who’s the one running now, Jeon Jungkook?!!!” I yelled after him and he flipped me off without turning around. 

Laughing, I ran to catch up with him again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 10.55 , I stood outside Jungkook’s room, nervous but eager.

 It wasn’t even the prospect of sex, I thought giddily. Just the idea of spending time with him, of listening to him talk, of having him at touching distance .....it was so intoxicating. 

I knocked lightly. 

Jungkook opened the door , a smile on his face and it was jarring, how young he looked like this. 

He was clearly fresh out of the shower. Hair wet and and still dripping a little, he was dressed in a grey hoodie, the sleeves rolled up to show his veiny forearms and grey sweatpants, hands tucked into his pockets as he shook his hair out of his eyes. 

It was a futile action and all it really did was send water droplets flying all around. 

I blinked against the unexpected spray, water clinging to my lashes and my cheeks. 

“Hey!! “ I protested. “ Are you a puppy? Use a towel like the rest of the world.” I mumbled. 

He laughed. 

“Come in, princess.” He grabbed my wrist, tugging gently and I stepped into his room, looking around eagerly. 

He closed the door behind us and I heard him pull the dead bolt into place before turning the key as well.

No interruptions then.....

Good. 

“Your room is actually bigger than mine.” I frowned, noting the big four poster bed, complete with a white curtained canopy. I let my gaze fall to the clean white sheets and my mind flashed back to the beautiful Helena, sprawled on the bed in nothing but her underwear. 

I swallowed the bitter jealousy that threatened. 

Hands wrapped around my waist from behind and he hugged me close, the warmth of his chest heavy and amazing on my body. I jumped a little when i felt the gentle press of his lips on the curve of my neck. 

“You sure about this? We don’t have to do anything at all tonight. We can kiss a little, watch a movie and sleep. But you’re a big girl so I’m gonna let you call the shots.” He lightly grabbed a huge chunk of my hair, lifting it out of the way before kissing the back of my neck. 

“Uh...” I stared straight ahead, already half aroused. “I want....to feel good.” 

He laughed against my skin, his hold around me tightening. 

“That can be arranged.” He said hotly, teeth nipping  at my skin before he gently turned me around in his arms. 

I looked up at him, drinking in his gorgeous face and he hummed, eyes narrowed as though in deep thought. 

“Bed?” He prompted and it was ridiculous, how one word could turn me on that bad. I nodded, making to move but he surprised me, crouching and grabbing the back of my thighs, pulling me up so easily, that I shrieked. I wrapped my thighs around his waist, more by instinct than intent and he laughed at the look on my face. 

“This always gets the ladies going.” He winked and I flushed. 

“Show off...” I muttered, lightly punching his shoulders and he shrugged.

“I don’t hit the gym five times a week to  not  show off darling.” he drawled, walking over to the bed and tossing me on the mattress. I bounced off the surface, squawking in surprise and I scrambled to sit up but he was already grabbing the hem of his hoodie and tossing it off. 

I’d never seen him shirtless but before I could fully appreciate the view, he was climbing on the bed. He grabbed my ankles, tugging me away from the head board and I landed on my back with an oof. 

“Ow. You’re being entirely too careless with me. “ I protested. 

He crawled forward on his knees, closer and closer till he was throwing one leg over my body, straddling my waist. 

“Thought you wanted to be put in your place.” He reminded me and I grinned up at him. 

“I think I’m right where I want to be. Under you.” I said honestly and he nodded.

“It’s where you belong.” He whispered, taking me entirely by surprise .

 My heart began pounding a familiar ache, a familiar pang. I knew it was an illusion. He didn’t for a second believe I belonged here but it was hard not to believe him, when he was hovering over me , looking like a fallen angel. 

God, don’t get emotionally invested. He doesn’t actually mean it, you fool. 

“Kiss me.” I held my arms up and he lowered himself carefully, keeping his weight off me as he kissed me, soft and gentle. I let my fingers tangle in the damp ebony locks, tugging gently as he angled himself better, tongue begging entrance. 

The heady mint taste of him, sent me into over drive and I wrapped both my legs around his waist, pulling him down. 

I took a second to just take him in.

The scent of his skin against mine, clean and woody, slightly sweaty, but mostly just musky. The smell of a man . The weight of him on my body, the hardness of his arousal evident even through the sweatpants. He pulled back to stare at me, his fingers brushing my cheeks. 

“You have perfect lips for kissing. Lush and plump. Like tiny pillows I can sink my teeth into.” He whispered, catching my lower lip between his teeth and tugging. 

“You have beautiful nipples. I want to lick them some day. .” I breathed, running my thumb on the curve of his cheek bones. 

Jungkook stared at me in complete shock for a second and then  laughed . 

“Thats.... a new one. Jesus. “ he shook his head, almost in disbelief. 

“Sorry.” I flushed and he waved off my apology. 

“You wanted to feel good right? Shall I start?” His eyes twinkled. 

I nodded, way too eagerly and he laughed harder. 

“Okay, let’s get you out of these clothes, princess. “  He grabbed my arm, pulling me up to a sitting position before gently tugging the t shirt off my chest. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath and his breath caught s he stared at my breasts.

He stared at them for a second, swallowing before, glancing at me .

“Beautiful.” He said, voice deep and husky. 

“Thank you .” I said primly. 

He laughed again and shook his head.

“I can’t remember ever laughing so much before sex. This is so weird.” 

“Weird bad?” i asked, nervous.

He shook his head.

“Weird good.” He leaned in, kissing my cheek just as he hooked his thumbs into my shorts, pulling them down easily and leaving me completely naked. “ Weird adorable.” 

I crossed my legs, drawing my knees up at once, feeling devastatingly shy. 

His eyes softened. 

“You want me to turn off the lights? “ He asked gently. 

“Yes please.” I said desperately and he nodded, quickly climbing off the bed and fumbling with the light switches. He left a single light on , near the closet. It left the rest of the room dimly lit. 

“Am I the first one to see you like this?” He asked, rubbing his hands together before climbing onto the bed again. 

“Um... after the age of ten, yes.” I laughed nervously. 

He hummed. 

“You’re gorgeous. Toss me that pillow.” He pointed to the one next to my head and i handed it to him.

“Lie down for me darling.” He smiled. 

I hesitated, closing my eyes tight just because it was overwhelming, seeing him in front of me , shirtless and being naked in front of him. 

I laid back slowly, knees still pulled up and feet on the bed, thighs pressed together. 

My heart was pounding , less from nerves and more from sheer anticipation. I’d waited long enough for this to truly feel nervous or want to back out. 

And the fact that it was with Jungkook... I’d pretty much hit the jackpot in first time experiences. 

Hands on my knees made my eyes fly open and I found myself staring up into his face.

“You okay?” He asked gently. 

i nodded.

“Let me between your legs?” He asked sweetly. 

I felt the blood rush to my face, my legs shaking as I spread my knees and thighs, enough to give him space between them. His fingers closed around my ankle lightly, gentle as he ran his hands up and down my legs. 

“Relax alright. You wanted to feel good and I’m going to make you feel good. The only thing you need to do is... well.. feel.” He smiled, impish bunny teeth bright even in the darkened room. 

I nodded, closing my eyes. 

“Don’t wanna watch?” He teased and I shook my head. My pulse kicked up at the very thought of it. 

Jungkook wasn’t anything like I’d imagined, I thought miserably. He had been attractive as the stoic, serious man who wanted to do the right thing but like this : naught and flirty and charming , he was absolutely devastating and i wasn’t sure i could come out of this unscathed. 

I couldn’t fight the feeling that I was making a huge mistake . that this whole thing was going to end with my heart ripped to shreds....

His lips against my forehead pulled me out of my thoughts and I swallowed. 

“I’m going to touch you.” He said softly and I shuddered when his hands closed over my breasts, gentle but firm, kneading the flesh very slowly, thumbs rubbing back and forth on the nipples till they tightened. 

I bit my lips to stop myself from crying out, the sensation overwhelming and foreign because it was someone else’s fingers and not my own. 

“Hey... “ one soft finger pressed against my lips, parting them gently and i sobbed out loud. “ None of that.... You should be as loud as you want to...how else will I know if I’m getting the job done?” 

“You’re getting it done..” I choked out, shaking all over and his kissed my lips again, quick and hard. 

“So beautiful.” He murmured, lips pressing kisses down my chest and across my breasts.

“Since you wanted to lick my nipple, let me uh...return the favor? In advance ?” He laughed against my skin and I inhaled sharply when he nipped at the fleshy mound. 

His lips closed around my nipples, the suction gentle but his tongue wet and insistent .

I went completely still, my hands flying to his hair and gripping so hard he grunted . My hips lifted off the bed at the sensation, every nerve ending on fire as he kept suckling and licking and god, his teeth...he was using his teeth to bite down on the nub... making me thrash my hips , my body completely overwhelmed . 

He kept his lips over the peak, licking the tip over and over till it was tender and wet and hard . He used his hands to knead the other side, thumb rubbing insistently on the neglected nub and I felt my toes curling into th mattress, my arms drooping to loop around his neck as he began to move his hips as well, grinding down on to my thigh. 

I was going to black out from having my nipple played with, I thought vacantly.

“Probably won’t feel this good for me but I’m glad you like it.” He laughed again and I loved the sound of it. Loved that he seemed to be enjoying this too. And I wanted him to enjoy it. Wanted to make him feel good too.

So I let my hand drop, down to his waist and then to the front of his pants.

He froze over me. 

“Sera-”

“I want to.” I said desperately, knowing what he was going to say.  . “ Please , let me touch you too-”

“Hey hey...shush..”He kissed me again quick and heady. “ Remember what I said? You call the shots.... “ He pressed another kiss to the corner of my lips. “ Want me to take off my sweats?” 

I nodded, “ Yeah.” 

He wiggled out of his pants quickly and i cursed myself for wanting the lights turned off. 

I hesitated, rubbing my palm on his pecs and tracing the muscles down to his tightly packed abs and then hesitating. 

“You can touch.” He said hotly and I swallowed, letting my fingers flutter down between his gloriously thick thighs. His skin was smooth and hard , like silk over steel and I let my fingers go lower, past the light dusting of hair to the thick, rigid length of him , my fingers closing over the hardness of his cock. 

Jungkook jerked forward, head burying into the pillow near my head and he swore.

“Fuck...” He sounded strangled and I laughed , gripping him harder but not a lot because I wasn’t sure how much was too much. .

“I have no idea what I’m doing...” I admitted weakly , loosening my grip a little to stroke up and down over the length of his cock. 

“Fuck.. just the fact that you’re doing it is going to make me cum.” He choked out and I laughed, ridiculously flattered.  

He grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away.

“Lick it.” He said softly. 

I went still, my brain grinding to a halt.. Lick....??

 My eyes went wide.  

And so did his.

“Your palm.” He choked out. “ Lick your palm not my..... Your palm. It’s too dry.” 

Oh..  oh.

Lick my palm. Not his cock. Right. Got it. 

“Okay...”I drew my hand up and hesitated , unsure . Jungkook watched me like a hawk, eyes trained on my mouth and I bit my lips, cupping my palm and spitting into it, twice for good measure. feeling absolutely filthy.

“Fucking hell.” He breathed as I took my hand down to his cock again, wrapping my hand around it and it did feel better, easier to jerk him off with the lubrication. I moved my hands up and down , with  no rhythm and Jungkook gritted his teeth. 

“Okay... I’m gonna.. “He shivered a little when I tentatively pressed my thumb to the head, surprised to find him wet , on the top. I gathered the moisture around his slit, spreading it all over the head of his cock, using my fingers to rub circles over the crown , fingers tracing the thick vein on the underside. 

 inside me. This is going to be inside me. 

 I felt my thighs shake, my insides clenching, wetness dribbling out of me as I squirmed. 

“Please... Jungkook , I...”

“I got you...” He whispered, grabbing my hand and pulling it away from his cock. 

“hey-” I pouted but he shook his head. 

“If you don’t keep your hands off,  this'll all be over before it even begins,.” He said dryly. 

I closed my eyes again, my nerves picking up. 

“Listen...” He said suddenly and I blinked, staring at him. “ I’m going to get you wet...” Oh, god, “ With my tongue.” 

My entire body went taut. 

“I..”

“It’ll make it easier... trust me. And It’ll feel good. Wasn’t that the goal today? “ He tossed me a wink, squeezing my thighs a bit. He moved back and grabbed the pillow.

“Lift your hips up for me.” He said gently and I raised my butt, jerking when he folded the pillow in half and pushed it under my hips. And the he was crawling backwards, till his face hovered over my belly button.

“Throw your legs over my shoulders....” He said briskly, gripping my thighs , one in each and spreading my legs apart. I did as he asked, the back of my knee resting on the hard muscles of his broad shoulders and i raised my head a bit to peer down at him. 

The sight of jungkook’s gorgeous fucking face between my thighs got seared into my head and I fell back, already overwhelmed. 

He pressed a soft kiss to my thigh, a little nip my skin and then sucked the skin at the juncture of my hip and thigh. He was breathing in suddenly, a loud, shuddering inhale.  His breathing wavered and i felt the sharp pin prick of teeth. 

“Shit..”He pulled back and I jumped a little, watching him struggle. He glanced at me and I saw the flash of white between his lips. He’d dropped fang...and was clearly struggling to get them to retract. 

“You can do it..” I said feverishly. “ Jungkook , you can.... Drink.” 

He shook his head and glanced up at me and the look in his eyes made me startle .... because it looked like he was going to get up, move away , possibly call off this whole thing and no...no that was absolutely not going to happen. 

I was not letting him back out of this. 

He tried to move, but I grabbed his hair, yanking his mouth back to my thigh. 

“Fucking do it...” I snapped angrily and his eyes widened at my tone, “  do it and then fuck me , Jungkook or I swear to God I’ll  -” 

Sharp, sharp pain lanced through my spine as he bit down, fangs piercing my skin with ease and I felt the rush of liquid as it left my body, filling his mouth as he gulped. 

His venom worked its magic, the pain dulling to a throb, a pleasant heady intoxication....meant to make the bleeding out painless, meant to make death pleasant for the prey but for me it was just pleasure.

 Pleasure because he could have his fill and I would still be able to give him more. 

Pleasure because with me, he could indulge himself, as much as he wanted without worrying about the consequences. 

Jungkook groaned against my thighs, his shoulders shaking as he drank and I stroked his hair, petting the dark strands as I fought the slight lightheadedness, knowing that it would pass soon. 

Jungkook sucked deeper and I parted my legs moaning when my head began to spin, and then I felt his fingers touch my center, parting my folds , spreading the wetness all over his fingers before his thumb pressed down on my clit, rubbing insistently. I felt myself dripping all over the sheets, so wet and swollen and throbbing... 

“Oh, god yes... That feels so good, Jungkook .. I...” I gasped  as he slipped one long finger in, deep and without any resistance. The warm wetness in my thigh began spreading and I heard him groan as he sucked harder, drinking me down like i was the finest wine. 

“Another... give me more...please...” 

He moaned, still drinking, still shaking as he pressed another finger in next to the previous one, deeper still, searching and stroking, tracing every ridge inside me, curling just right, and rubbing down on that spot inside me...the one I could never quite reach by myself. 

Jungkook inhaled sharply, his fang sinking in just a little deeper as he latched on tighter and my legs shook as I cried out. 

He hummed, using one hand to rub soothing circles on my thigh, while he rubbed his thumb across my clit , hard and the gentle and then hard again until it throbbed and ached , over and over again and I was sure the little nub was bruised, that I wouldn’t be able to touch it for a while without wincing. 

I was gushing , my arousal so strong that the sheets were soaked, wet and so damp and the sensation of his fingers, thick and deep inside me while his fangs bit down harder, while he fed from me, was just too much...too much. 

I exploded around his fingers , my orgasm so strong that my hips lifted right off the bed, and he fucked me through it, fingers pounding in and out of my wet swollen walls as he pulled away, fangs retracting and I struggled to get on my elbows , to get a look at him.

He looked completely wrecked, fangs still half out, lips red and dripping blood , eyes flashing scarlet and blazing with lust so potent , I felt my insides churn.,,. i stared at him as I clenched over his fingers and he closed his eyes, shoulders shaking as he tried to get his bearings but I grabbed his shoulders, scrabbling to pull him up and closer. 

“Inside!” I choked out as he tried to get up, looking punch drunk and out of it.” Get inside me.”

“Sera... you’re...” He was slurring his words and I cried out in sheer frustration, scrabbling to my knees and pushing him down till he was flat on the bed. 

 “ Please i need it... need your cock inside me Jungkook, fuck...”  I begged, my thighs aching and walls clenching from how desperately I wanted to be filled. I stuck my hand between my legs , gathering as much of my wetness as I could before gripping his cock, coating him in my arousal.

 There was something so filthy about his hard, thick cock covered in my juices that made my mouth water. I wanted to swallow him down, to feel his cock hit the back of my throat but I wanted him inside me too. 

Maybe next time. 

“Please....Please can I sit on your cock?!! “ i choked out, fully gone. Jungkook groaned at my words. 

“Yes.. fuck... Do it.. Come on baby, take what you want from me.” he whispered.  and I scrambled up to straddle his thighs. Gripping the base of his cock, I pressed the tip against my entrance, closing my eyes to brace myself, digging my knees into the mattress for leverage before sinking straight down . 

“Oh, fuck....” I shuddered, my entire body thrumming as he pressed in, the hard length of him cleaving me so easily there was absolutely no pain to even register. It was just new. Different. 

And so so exhilarating. 

I sank all the way down till my ass hit the hardness of his thighs. 

And then I couldn’t move anymore. My body shook with tremors and My hands began trembling. 

“Jungkook...please... I..”

He responded by reaching out and gripping me thighs.

“Look at me baby...!” He said sharply and I stared down at his sweat slicked face. His eyes flashed red for a second and then he tugged me down, till i was lying flat on his chest. His arms came around my waist, anchoring me in place. 

“Gonna give it to you good. Just stay still yeah?” He breathed against my ear as i buried my face in the crook of his neck. And then he was rolling us both over, till I was flat on my back, his hand closing over my thigh, spreading my legs apart as he pistoned straight in. 

We were both too far gone for any semblance of a rhythm and I stopped trying to move, merely wrapping my arms around his neck, clinging on as he fucked into me, so hard that I could feel him in my gut. I felt my hips ache from the sheer force of his thrusts, my thighs cramping from how wide he had me spread and my clit throbbing from the way his cock dragged across it with every thrust. 

Pleasure swelled, again, this time stringer and I stopped fighting to make it happen, sinking back and letting it crash over me , like a wave breaking over the cliffs. 

Jungkook groaned as I exploded around him, my walls clenching around his cock and milking him and he shuddered in my arms, his cock twitching inside me as he came, filling me up . 

I gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as he trembled through the aftershocks. I felt my walls clenching, over and over again and Jungkook gave me a strangled moan.

“Too much...baby.. please stop... “ He begged and I froze, realizing that he was too sensitive and wanted to pull out. 

“sorry...sorry... “ I willed my walls to stop clenching and he made a noise of sheer exhaustion as he pulled out of me. 

I watched as he rolled off me, collapsing on his back, breathing hard. 

I stared up at the ceiling, feeling the wet mess of his cum, drip out of me and onto the sheets. I had the sudden made urge to stick my finger down there , scoop it up and taste it but I tamped it down. 

“Well.” I began.... 

He turned to look at me. 

I turned to him, still trying to catch my breath. 

“I’m not a virgin anymore.” I grinned wide. 

He groaned and ran a finger over his face. 

“Congratulations, Princess.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note :  Please i need holy water. 

feedback is love. If you don’t tell me you loved this fic i will not write smut anymore. 

taglist :  

@ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo​   

[spencer-reids-adventures]

it's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing - chapter 7

Warnings: Depression, suicidal ideation, referenced drug addiction, mentions of trauma, disordered eating, vomiting, nightmares

Summary: Weeks go by and he feels himself deteriorate, feels the thread he’s hanging onto begin to split and fray, and he starts to wonder how this is going to end for him. At what point enough will be enough.

or,

The one where Spencer goes to the psych ward.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4k

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 - The Enemy Within Chapter 2 - Errand of Mercy Chapter 3 - Dagger of the Mind Chapter 4 - Where No Man Has Gone Before Chapter 5 - The Galileo Seven Chapter 6 - This Side of Paradise Chapter 7 - The Man Trap Chapter 8 - And the Children Shall Lead Chapter 9 - Mirror, Mirror Chapter 10 - A Private Little War Chapter 11 - Wink of an Eye Chapter 12 - That Which Survives Chapter 13 - The Empath Chapter 14 - Let That Be Your Last Battlefield

They’re about to lower Emily’s casket into the ground when Spencer realizes it’s his own grave they’re standing above, the one he was forced to dig in Georgia, the one he never finished. And he doesn’t want Emily laid to rest in a place like that, a place tainted with pain and fear, manufactured sin and forced repentance. This grave is meant for him and him alone, and he wants to yank her away, take her someplace beautiful, but he’s frozen, and he’s weak, and the only tool he has at his disposal is his voice, so he starts to scream, “We have to get of here, please, get her out of here, take me instead, take me, please, just take me…”

He wakes up to a nurse above him, holding his arms and speaking to him firmly, but he breaks out of her grip and stumbles to the bathroom, trying to push the door closed before he falls to his knees in front of the toilet and throws up, tears streaming down his face, pajamas clinging to his skin with sweat. When his stomach is empty and he’s brushed his teeth, he tiptoes back into his room to find the nurse - Jeannie, he remembers - still there waiting for him, Ben thankfully still dead asleep in his own bed. Jeannie helps him pick out a new set of pajamas to change into, then guides him to the hallway and sits him on a chair. The lights are dim, and it’s quiet, and Spencer can’t stop shaking.

“How are you feeling, Spencer?” Jeannie asks, and he just shrugs. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes,” he whispers, twisting his fingers in his lap.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asks. “With some honey maybe? Something warm, to help you relax?”

“Yes, please,” Spencer croaks, and reaches for a book on a little table next to his chair, reading the whole thing by the time Jeannie returns.

He sips the tea slowly, repeating in his head, it was just a dream, Emily is alive, you don’t deserve to die…

When the tea is gone, he lets Jeannie guide him back to bed.

“Do you want something for anxiety?” she asks. “It might help you sleep.”

“No, thank you,” Spencer says, although he’s not entirely sure why, and he soon falls back into a fitful sleep.

The rest of the day doesn’t really get better.

He tried to pick something he knew he’d be able to eat for breakfast, but the oatmeal is too runny and the fruit is all either over-ripe or not ripe enough, and he’s not sure which is more overwhelming, the idea of eating at all, or the shame of stressing this much over something as simple as breakfast. In the end, he manages only a few bites, and soon after breakfast ends, his nurse brings him an Ensure shake. He has a staring contest with it in the activity room until finally all he can hear is his estranged father’s voice in his head, telling him to quit being so dramatic, so high maintenance, so stupid for someone who claims to be a genius. Spencer sighs and chugs the shake, gagging and throwing the empty bottle away with more force than is strictly necessary.

He makes it through half of his therapy appointment before having a panic attack on the floor of the office, and Carol, his therapist, ends up walking him back to his bedroom and settling Maurice the Stingray on his chest to help him relax. This time, when offered anxiety medication, he agrees. Half an hour later, he’s asleep.

He actually doesn’t dislike Carol - she’s straight and to the point, and she won’t let him get away with deflecting or downplaying his feelings or his trauma. Unfortunately, he’s been pushing everything down so deep for so long, excavating it is not going to be an easy task.

Spencer accidentally sleeps through group therapy, which he’s not particularly disappointed about, although he’s uneasy about the fact that he doesn’t know any of the other patients besides Ben, doesn’t know what they’re like or what their names are or - and he knows this is the profiler part of his brain speaking - what they’re capable of.

Lunch isn’t as bad as breakfast. Spencer manages to eat all of his soup and crackers, so there’s no PunishmentShake™ this time.

He’s on edge afterwards, though, and Dr. Coates meets with Spencer only briefly that afternoon, leaving him with a stack of information sheets about medication options that they’ll discuss when Spencer’s a little less agitated, and a promise for occupational therapy the following day.

Spencer spends his time before dinner sitting on the floor in the corner at the end of the hall, rocking back and forth and speaking to no one. When a nurse named Marie comes over and sits down next to him for a check-in, he answers her questions bluntly and honestly and non-verbally, because he just can't manage words right now.

“Are you feeling safe?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“Do you wish to hurt yourself or others?”

"Myself," he signs, and watches to make sure she understands. She does, and he feels himself relax just a little.

“Are you having suicidal thoughts?”

He nods, pounding his fist lightly on his knee.

“Are you planning to act on them?”

He shakes his head.

“Thank you for your honesty, Spencer,” Marie says. “I know you’re having a hard day. I don’t think you need someone assigned to be with you at all times, but I’d like to know your thoughts on that.”

"Don't need…" He hesitates, thinks for a second, then finger spells, "S-I-T-T-E-R."

“Do you think you’d be willing to tell me if that changes?”

“Okay."

He forces down dinner and throws it up 20 minutes later, not really on purpose. He's under no illusion that he won't face some sort of consequence for this, though, and indeed another shake is handed to him right before visiting hours start. He sets it down on a table and waits to see who's coming to visit him tonight.

---

Derek doesn’t know what to expect. He’s never been to a place like this, not to visit a friend, not when he wasn’t working, and even then, it wasn’t… like this. He gets into the elevator and all he can think is, You should have seen this before it happened. You should have been a better friend. You should have checked on him more. You should have…

The elevator dings and he gets out, signing into the ward and leaving behind all of his belongings except Spencer’s coffee. A man leads him to a table where Spencer is seated, and when he sees Derek, he holds up a finger and then dashes out of the room, returning a moment later with a large styrofoam cup. He takes the coffee from Morgan, signing, “Thank you,” and then mixes it in the cup with the Ensure shake that’s sitting in front of him on the table. He takes a sip, thinks for a second, then nods and takes another sip.

“Good?” Derek asks, amused.

Spencer shrugs, then nods.

“Are you having trouble talking tonight?” Derek mentally chastises himself for not knowing more ASL, but Spencer shakes his head.

“No,” he whispers, and takes another sip of coffee. “Just… give it a sec.”

“I can talk first,” Derek suggests, and Spencer nods gratefully. “Kid, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you.”

Spencer frowns and tilts his head.

“I was stuck in my own head about everything after everything with Emily, and I never-- I didn’t support you the way I should have. You’re like my brother, and I can’t believe I let you end up like this without even noticing. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Spencer says, loud enough to surprise himself and Derek. “Don’t do that,” he says, his voice strained. “You didn’t let anything happen to me. You aren’t responsible for me. Don’t you dare convince yourself that this is your fault.”

“It isn’t your fault, either, pretty boy.”

Spencer shrugs. “I don’t know that it really matters whose fault it is,” he says. “The point is, I’m here. I’m sorry you had to come see me like this. I’m sorry for...everything.”

“Reid, you don’t have to be sorry either,” Derek says. “You did the right thing. You called Hotch, and you were honest with him, and you let him bring you here. That’s a huge thing. Especially for you, Mr. ‘I don’t need anyone else’s help’.”

“That’s Doctor ‘I don’t need anyone else’s help,’” Spencer says with a small smile, and Morgan laughs.

“How are you, really?” he asks. “Are they treating you well here?”

“They are,” Spencer says. “Today was a pretty bad day, but… it happens.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Spencer is quiet for a long time, focused on peeling the label off the Ensure bottle.

“I had a nightmare about Emily’s funeral. I don’t understand -- she’s back, she’s alive, so why do I keep dreaming about her death? Why do I keep intertwining it with my own? Why does my envy twist into this weird fucked-up parallel that doesn’t even make any sense?”

It doesn’t take a profiler to pick up on the key word in that tirade.

“Your envy, kid?”

“You wanna know why I went crying to JJ for 10 weeks in a row?”

“Tell me.”

“I would never dream of harming myself around Henry. JJ’s house was the only place where I knew I would never cut myself, or drink too much, or bring narcotics. It was the only place I’d never try to play something off as a slip of the hand or an accidental overdose. I could never do that to my godson.”

“And then Emily came back.”

“She came back, and it turned out my safe place hadn’t been safe at all. I went there at my absolute lowest, and she was lying to my face the entire time. I’ve forgiven her, but it still hurts, Derek. It hurts so much I can’t breathe sometimes. Because I’ve always had this fear, you know, of not knowing what’s real. Because of my mom. And JJ knew that. And she still let me believe something that wasn’t real, knowing that I’d eventually find out the truth. She did that to me.”

“And Hotch?”

“Hotch never told me the truth either, obviously. But he maintained a professional boundary between us. I didn’t pour my heart out to him. I didn’t reach out for him when I wanted to kill myself. It just...doesn’t feel like the same kind of betrayal, I guess. He treated it almost more as a lie of omission. JJ lied to my face day after day. And maybe that’s not fair, maybe I should be equally mad at both of them, but I’m not. And maybe I shouldn’t trust Hotch anymore, but I do. I didn’t even mean to call him the other night. The phone was ringing before I even realized I’d dialed him. So, somewhere in my fucked up head, Hotch still feels safe in a way that I’m not sure JJ ever will again.”

“Kid, how come you never told me you were suicidal?” Derek can’t help asking; it’s the question that’s been on his mind since Hotch had talked to the team.

“Because it’s humiliating,” Spencer says, as though it should be obvious. “I look up to you, Morgan. You’re like a mentor and a brother and a friend all in one. I want you to see me doing my best, not giving up. I want you to be proud of me, not know how weak I am. And...I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upset me how?”

“You’re so protective of me in the field. You’re always worried about me getting hurt. How could I look you in the eye and tell you the real danger is me?” He pulls up the left sleeve of his hoodie, revealing a bandaged wound. “I did that,” Spencer says. “And there’s nothing you could’ve done. And I can already see how angry that makes you.”

Derek tries to relax his hands, which are clenched at his sides, cursing himself for being so transparent.

“You know I care about you, right?” he says. “I care about you so much.”

“I know.”

“You know I’d do anything to help, right?”

“I know.”

“So, tell me, kid. What can I do to help?”

Spencer huffs out a small laugh.

“Derek, you brought me coffee. You let me spill my guts even though I could barely string two words together before you got here. You came to see me in a mental hospital. What more could I even ask for?”

Derek stands up and motions for Spencer to do the same. He pulls him into a hug, wrapping his arms all the way around him.

“We should do this more,” he says quietly. “I love you so much, kid. The thought of losing you, knowing I could have done something to prevent it…” His voice catches and he feels Spencer squeeze him tighter.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispers. “I love you too, I don’t-- I don’t tell everyone that enough, I think. I’m trying to be better about it.”

“We already know,” Morgan promises. “You show us every day. We all took it for granted, but without you in the office, it’s immediately noticeable. You’re the one who always checks on us, makes sure we’re okay. You make yourself available. You’re there for us in a way we haven’t been there for you.”

“I didn’t want you to be,” Spencer says sharply. “Don’t ever think you failed me, Derek Morgan. I pushed every one of you away completely on purpose. I thought it would make it easier for you if I, um…”

“Don’t say it,” Derek says, holding Spencer so tight that he starts to squirm.

“I won’t, but also, I can’t breathe,” he croaks, and Derek releases his hold just a little bit.

“It’s going to be okay, kid,” Derek promises. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m-- I’m trying,” Spencer says. “I promise I am.”

“I know.”

They don’t let go until visiting hours are over and Derek has to leave.

“Goodnight, kid,” he says as he walks out the door.

Spencer raises his nearly-empty cup like a toast, then swallows down the last of his cold coffee with a grimace.

“Night, Morgan.”

[celosiaa]

let me be your shelter

CHRISTMAS FIC CHRISTMAS FIC!! Chapter one is here--many many days after I intended it to be up. It’s not exactly what I want it to be. But I hope you’ll find it enjoyable all the same. Chapter two is coming, I promise :)

“Come on, dads!!”

Calling from far ahead of them, Emma races through the snow, braids flying behind her in the bitter cold wind. Not that she seems to mind—according to the past week of dancing around the kitchen, marking the days off with big red x’s on their wall calendar, and reminding her dads over and over again that this Friday is the day—this was set to be the best day of her twelve-year-old life yet.

“Come on!”

“Just slow down a moment, Em!” Jon calls with a laugh, brushing a wayward curl out of his eyes. “You’re missing a lot of good ones!”

It’s true—she had, in fact, been flying so quickly past the rows and rows of Christmas trees, ripe for the cutting, barely brushing past on her search to find just the right one. That of course, Martin had to remind her could only be so tall, could only be so wide if it were to fit in their flat. And naturally, it didn’t seem she was going to listen.

“I want to find the biggest one!”

“I know, habibti,” Jon calls back. “But remember what Dad said, right? Martin?”

At the sound of his name, his eyes snap to Jon’s, brows lifted as if slightly alarmed.

“What I—said?”

“About the tree, darling,” Jon mutters, slipping his double-gloved hand around Martin’s bare one, grounding him.

This time of year was always difficult for him—the darkening of the sky casting long shadows over his thoughts, which already fill with fog far more often than makes Jon comfortable. Even if he does have a sun lamp at home, something to drive it away for a bit—it has been abundantly clear that the past week especially has been a struggle. Today, however, things had seemed a bit lighter—or at least, so Jon had thought.

“Oh—right. Right, darling, we’ve got to get just a medium-sized one, yeah? Otherwise it won’t stand up straight!” he says, a ghost of a smile playing across his wind-flushed face.

“Ugghh, fine,” she laments, rolling her eyes as far as they will go and widening the gap between them in frustration.

“Is it storming up there, love?” Jon asks quietly, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his gaze with his own.

At the familiar metaphor, Martin obliges—smile drawn up so his cheeks just touch the edges of his glasses, hiding the deep bags that had only just begun to fade from the depressive episode of the past weeks.

“Just overcast, is all. I’m fine,” he assures, squeezing back—and Jon raises an eyebrow in question, doubtful of Martin’s definition of “fine.”

“No, really, I am,” he laughs, bending down to press a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “Promise. Thank you for checking.”

Supposing that would have to do for now, Jon decides to let the matter go—looping his arm through Martin’s as they keep walking down the snow-dusted path.

“Alright,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Martin’s shoulder. “Let me know if the weather turns.”

“I will. Don’t worry, love.”

Of course I will. Always.

“Here! I’ve got one!”

Shouting excitedly from up ahead, Emma waves her gloved hands around in the air, before diving right into the branches to hug the trunk of the tree that was, objectively, the best of the lot. This pulls a true, gorgeous bit of laughter from Martin—the first time Jon has heard it in weeks.

To Jon, there could not be a single thing more lovely.

“That’s a good one, Em,” Jon praises as they reach her, trying very hard not to think about all the sap likely to stick in her newly-plaited hair. “What do you think, Dad?”

“Hmm…”

Feigning a moment of deep consideration earns him an intense doe-eyed, pleading look from his daughter, silently begging. As if he could truly refuse her.

“Well, by my calculations,” he says, winking a bit at his husband, who rolls his eyes fondly. “That should do just wonderfully.”

“YES!!!” Emma shouts, immediately releasing her hold on the tree and wrapping her sap-laden arms around them both. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

It’s the first time the fog has truly cleared from Martin’s eyes in month, and Jon smiles—choosing to cherish it dearly.

—

“Little bit to the left, habibi.”

“Aw, Boss, I didn’t know we were on that level!” Tim grins, helping Martin to straighten out the tree in the corner of their flat. “Should have said something sooner, habibi.”

“Shut it, Tim.”

The winning smile he flashes Jon at his coveted prize—a bit of exasperation from him—sends a pang of warmth spreading through Jon’s chest. Even if it’s been so many years now since…everything, he still feels so lucky to be on the receiving end of Tim’s smiles again. And a bit undeserving, if he’s honest. They’ve talked about it, of course—many times, in fact—but Jon has long since been forced to accept that things will never be quite like they were before.

Though that does mean that things have the potential to be better, and for that…for that, Jon is grateful.

“Could we focus please?” Martin pants a bit irritably, as he bears the brunt of the tree’s weight. “I’d rather not be squashed by this thing.”

“Sorry, Marto! Left it is then, habibi.”

“Stop it.”

“Never.”

—

A few hours later finds them settled around a lovely fire, steaming cups of tea in their hands, courtesy of Martin. Sasha has joined them now as well, curled up with Tim on an armchair with Emma sitting at their feet. Beside him on the sofa sits Martin, his arm wrapped lightly around his shoulders—and as he’s done every holiday since the rebirth of the world, Jon finds himself pondering the fact that he never would have thought this possible. Certainly not for him, for any of them, really. They should, all of them, be dead. Or worse. And yet—and yet. Here they are, making amends. Making their home together.

A family.

“Em, you would not believe the kinds of things your Baba and I used to get up to,” Tim grins, the bit of wine he’s had over the course of the evening painting his cheeks rosy. “Before he became my boring boss, that is. He’s absolutely mad.”

“Tim—“

“You hush,” he bellows, still laughing. “Emma deserves to know about the time we got trapped in that apartment complex, do you remember?”

“You’ve just told me to hush.”

“Hush, Jon, I’m telling a story!”

Rolling his eyes, Jon picks up his own glass again, taking the opportunity to sneak a glance at Martin in the meantime—pleased to see the bit of ruddiness masking the lightest of his freckles, a whisper of a smile planted on his face as he listens to the conversation. Nothing cloudy in his eyes, no fog—just Martin, his Martin. And in Jon’s opinion, that more than warrants the small kiss he presses into the line of his jaw, just beneath his ear.

“Hmm, what’s that for, darling?” Martin asks, turning towards him.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon hums against him,  “Just you. Just this.”

“Well, you won’t hear me complain.”

“Eww, dads!!”

Alas, they’d been caught—a disapproving Emma wrinkles her nose at them from her spot on the floor, Tim and Sasha muffling their giggles behind her.

“Sorry Em, sorry,” Martin laughs, untangling himself a bit from Jon and reaching for his own glass of wine. “Have to forgive us old and gross people.”

“You don’t have to be gross just because you’re old!” she insists, pointing a finger back at her aunt and uncle behind her. “Uncle Tim and Auntie Sasha are old too, but they’re not gross!”

“Hey!!”

Sasha’s look of incredulousness is enough to set Jon into fits—but something seems to catch a bit in his chest as he does, a vise clamping down over his ribcage.

Damn it damn it

His next inhale brings him no relief, merely tightening the grip, everything in his chest folding in on itself as he finds himself in the throes of once again gasping for air. Distantly, he rather thinks the wheezing sound of his breath to be embarrassing—but there is little on which he can focus other than keeping his vision from narrowing, narrowing.

“Jon?”

“M-Mar—”

“Are you panicking, love?”

Air air need air

“Can’t—”

He’s cut off by the closeness of his own airways sending out his breath with a fit of coughing, harsh and painful and—well, there goes his vision again.

“Here, Jon, your inhaler’s right here—”

Air air need air

Can’t breathe

Wrapping a shaking hand around Martin’s, Jon takes as deep of an inhale of the medicine as he can, holding holding holding his breath until it hurts, before letting it out—begging everything not to close again before he can get something up to his starving brain.

“Take it again, Jon. One more, come on.”

It comes just a bit easier this time, the gasping just a bit deepened, letting him pull it deeper into his lungs, opening everything enough to start his vision returning to him again. Even so, it takes a few minutes of just breathing, the room around him uncomfortably silent, save for the fading whistle of his chest, before he can even think about picking up his head again from where he’s braced it against his arms.

“—alright? You with us?”

“Sor—sorry,” he pants, still a bit breathless, shaky, heart racing uncomfortably as it always does. “Dunno—what happened.”

“Alright, Baba?”

Emma rests her hand gently atop his knee, looking quickly between himself and Martin. Lord knows he’s scared them enough times; caused them enough anxiety over his health that the guilt weighs so unbearably heavy on him in moments like this. When his daughter has to be his comfort. When he knows it ought to be the other way around.

Burden burden terrible father burden burden—

“Sorry—ha—Em,” he gasps, offering her a tight smile and a nod. The best he can do for now. “Fine—m’fine.”

“Was it something I did?” an unusually quiet Tim asks from across the room, hesitant to even draw his attention.

Damn it damn it

Of course I’ve got to screw things up again.

When Tim had first reentered their lives, they had found it difficult to process on both sides—the grief and anger and distrust layered up with trauma had proven to be a difficult thing to break down. Unhelped by the panic rising unbidden in Jon’s throat every time Tim had raised his voice, even with friendly teasing at first. Though he would never say, Jon knows how deeply this had wounded his friend—and Jon could certainly understand how upsetting it is for your own voice to become another’s nightmare.

They’d worked on it, just like everything else. Nothing of the kind of panic Jon once felt upon hearing an increase in volume has happened in years at this point, but still—still, Tim is afraid. Afraid of how fragile, how stupid, how unforgiving—

“N-no, no. Promise—not you,” he is quick to assure, snapping his head up to meet Tim’s eyes at once, desperate for his trust in this. “Not you.”

The quiet grief in the darkness of Tim’s eyes betrays his doubt.

“Why don’t you stay here and recover while I finish up with the cooking, love?” Martin offers, already rising to do just that.

“Oh—no, Martin—“

He’s tired he’s tired he’s already tired and spent and still recovering

You make everything worse

“It’s alright,” he smiles down at him, still lined with well-hidden exhaustion. “I’ve got it. Just take a minute, okay?”

“I’ll help,” Tim offers at once, following him into the kitchen. To get out of his sight, just in case he was making things worse after all. Just in case Jon was lying.

Damn it damn it

“Incoming!!”

From behind him, Emma’s voice rings out—and the cat is dropped unceremoniously into his lap, giving a soft mrrow of indignation at such treatment. As soon as Jon gives a small smile and a laugh, however, the Duquessa (for she must be properly titled) begins to purr at once, kneading his thigh a bit before draping herself across his lap.

“There you are, Jon—you’re healed!” chuckles Sasha as she stands, coming to sit beside him on the sofa.

“Quite.”

—

“Alright, love?”

Words a bit muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, Martin gazes down at him with furrowed brows where Jon sits on their bed, lost as usual in the thickest, driest biography Martin has ever seen.

“Mmm.”

“Jon.”

“Hmm?”

His attention is caught at last, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the hungrily-devoured words and toward his husband—hair a mess, in just boxers and a t-shirt, a bit of toothpaste splodged around the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry—sorry, what did you say?” he asks, unable to hide a fond smile as Martin rolls his eyes, turning around to rinse out his mouth and set down his toothbrush. When he’s finished, he meets Jon’s questioning look with a smiling shake of the head—before pulling Jon in to melt into his side, pressing a kiss against his hairline.

“I asked if you were alright,” he repeats, letting his lips linger longer atop Jon’s forehead this time. “You’ve been sniffly.”

“Have I?”

“You hadn’t noticed?”

“Not particularly.”

It is the truth, although a bit masked—if he is, indeed, sniffly, it seems likely to have contributed to his lingering shortness of breath that evening. Not that he had found it especially necessary to mention this to Martin. No reason to worry him needlessly, after all.

When Martin fetches him the box of tissues from the living room, however, he finds himself grateful. Something certainly seems to have built up in his sinuses, and though eased a bit by his ministrations, it seems to be something of which he cannot entirely rid himself.

“Aw, darling,” Martin tuts with concern, pressing the back of his hand against Jon’s forehead, just to check again. “Are you getting ill?”

No no no no

Can’t be ill

Can’t worry him

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assures, offering Martin a bit of a puffy-eyed smile. “Probably just from being out in the cold.”

“Hmm.” Worrying at his lower lip, Martin sweeps his eyes briefly over the rest of Jon’s body. “What about your joints? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon chuckles, rolling his eyes and fondly pressing a kiss against his husbands’ cheek. “No need to fuss, love. You need to get some rest.”

“Fussing is my specialty, though.”

“Don’t I know it.”

A small, lopsided smile spreads across his face—and Jon finds himself flushing at the gentleness of it.

Gorgeous.

“Alright,” Martin murmurs, tenderly tilting Jon’s chin upwards and into a kiss. “I’ll quit fussing, then. If I must.”

“You absolutely must. Or we’ll never get to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best, habibi.”

—

Click.

At the soft noise, Jon bolts awake, heart already pounding—from the shock of being startled awake, or POTS, he could not be sure. Perhaps both.

All he knows is that his heart is racing, and Martin is gone, and he can’t breathe.

Fuck fuck fuck

His lungs are at once too full and desperately empty—useless, vision tunneling as he pants into the darkness, reaching out blindly for his inhaler on the nightstand. Shaky, he nearly loses his hold on it twice before bringing it to his lips, forcing as much air out as he can before drawing a shallow breath of the medicine. But he cannot hold it, cannot keep it in long enough for it to work.

Help. He needs help.

He needs Martin.

“M—ha—Mar—“

He cannot choke out the words, not around the closing up of his throat, forcing him to cough without air. Without the ability to breathe back in. Dizzy, dizzy, can’t breathe, breathe breathe help Martin—

“Jon—oh, shit shit shit!”

Distantly, he hears the sound of running feet retreating from the bedroom and back down the hall—but his vision is starting to grey out, heart pounding out of his chest, and all he can focus on is don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out.

“Alright, here, here—I got the nebulizer, shit. Christ, Jon.”

He loses time for a few minutes. Nothing remains in his memory but a swirling, spinning picture of the room around him, the feeling of something being placed over his mouth and nose. And when he comes fully back around, it’s to the feeling of Martin’s strong arms bracing him forward, keeping his airways as open as possible while the medicine has been allowed to work. To Martin’s shadowed face, bruises ever-deepening beneath his eyes.

Jon does not need the full powers of the Beholding anymore to know that Martin has once again gone without sleep.

“M—sorry—“

“Hush, Jon, just hush,” Martin reassures, rubbing his back when the coughing starts up again, nearly hard enough to vomit.

He won’t be trying to speak again any time soon.

“You’re alright, I’m here.”

As the minutes pass, the breaths come more easily, returning Jon’s awareness more fully. Now that his vision is no longer swirling, he takes stock of the pulse ox clipped on his finger, Martin’s eyes anxiously watching it, the mobile grasped tightly in one shaking hand, ready to call 999 at any moment.

“Martin—“

“Hush, Jon.”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, love.”

But there is, isn’t there? Worry, worry, always worry over him. Deepening his husband’s exhaustion, burden, anxiety.

It seems to be his lot in life to make things worse.

“Doing any better?” Martin asks as the wheezing fades from his exhales, though he wouldn’t dare remove the mask for a few more minutes at least.

“Better,” Jon whispers. “Dunno—what happened.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve woken up like this,” Martin worries, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jon’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “Thought we were managing a little better lately.”

“So did—I.”

With a long, concerned sigh, Martin shifts to sit just slightly behind him, pulling him back to lean against his chest. For once—for once—the warmth and comfort of it all outweighs the guilt of its necessity.

“We’ll figure it out,” Martin assures, the slight tremor of his voice belying his uncertainty. “We’ll get it sorted, love.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh. Just be still, Jon. Just be still.”

Though neither of them may be able to sleep that night— there is a certain rest to be found in just holding each other. And for now—for now, that is enough.

[fragileizywriting]

cooking together (part one)

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chat Noir hasn’t spoken to her since she’s woken up.

To be fair, she doesn’t blame him. She doesn’t blame him in the slightest. How stupid of her to fall asleep on top of one of the most famous, most deadliest demons in the world— sleeping on top of him like he’s nothing more than a pillow. The great Chat Noir reduced to nothing but a cuddle buddy— oh how stupid of her. She’d cried in front of him— she’s done it before to the point where there is nothing of guilt left within her whenever it happens, and he’s never said anything before but comfort her. But sleep on top of him, oh, Tikki— what should she do now? Where does she begin?

They had sat there on either side of their couch, completely silent, each with their faces hidden behind their hands within moments of her scrambling to get off of him. No doubt Chat Noir was absolutely groaning to himself internally about how unlucky he is for getting stuck with a summoner that is absolutely desperate for affection like she is— to the point where she even latches onto him even during her sleep— oh, embarrassing! So embarrassing!

He must hate her, or find her absolutely weird— hell, maybe even find her to be the most incredibly annoying human he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting— oh, Tikki— guide her in what to do next!

He’d slipped away from the couch after a moment or two of silence, changed out of his clothes for something more fitting of the chores to do around their farm life, and had washed up in the washroom— leaving the house while muttering something under his breath about going to go check up on the hens.

She’s only now just gotten ready herself. It’s been a year or so since she’s gotten regular help with lacing her stays— it’s definitely doable by herself, of course, since she’s done it her whole life on her own— but Chat Noir usually helps her, claiming it's his job as a familiar to help her.

It’s always so much easier to do with an extra pair of hands, and no matter how much or how well she ties her hair to the side, she always ends up catching part of her hair in the loops whenever she does it by herself— so she’s been accustomed to being helped in that way. But by herself, goodness— the sensation of lacing herself and tucking the spare bits of string under the stomacher is almost foreign nowadays.

She’s put on her petticoat, too— it’s almost in the shape of a full-body apron, it too snagged at some parts of her hair.

She forgets how easy things in her life are, now that Chat Noir is there to help.

At least putting on her actual dress is a breeze. She’s picked her favorite wine-colored one, the one with the front closures this time, knowing that Chat has made no signs of wanting to return into the house and help her close it in the back. She can dress herself— she doesn’t need a powerful demon for help getting dressed— he’s not a maid. Besides, it’s not as if she’s gotten used to the domesticity.

She sighs to herself in the kitchen, trying not to peek through the window as she hears him corralling the hens outside the coup so he can bring in eggs. Oh, he’s gentle with their chickens, even if it seems he’s out of his element when he does so— he’s learned to behave around them over the year and months they’ve known each other, which is definitely good news. It’s almost as if he wants to be loved by the hens. The thought shouldn’t warm her this much, but it does— oh goodness— she tries beating down the feeling with a little slap to her cheeks, whining pitifully behind her palms.

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid!

She needs to stop thinking about the concept of domesticity with him— oh, goodness, how she needs to stop— he’s a demon— and demons do not live in little, tiny cottages with their summoning witch. Demons do not live happily tending to hens and working on fencing a perimeter out the back of their land so that they can have horses and cows and sheep accessible as the years go on. Demons do not dream of coming home and placing kisses on their summoner’s cheeks and nuzzle with a purr. And demons definitely do not wish to talk about all the latest catch he and Luka got during their fishing escapades, bringing home barrels of fish hoisted onto a carriage so that they can sell and store!

Demons certainly do not entertain any notion of falling in love with a witch— goodness, of course they don’t— she’s certain that Chat Noir would be more excited to be doing actual demon work— whatever that may be— than to stay here and build up the posts for the fence. There is simply no way in hell that Chat Noir would rather be here.

She can stupidly dream and she can stupidly wish all she wants, but the moment that she brings back Adrien, Chat Noir will swallow her soul and disappear. She’s almost positive. After all, Ladybug she may be, but she’s nothing more than a witch that needs his help. A friend, sure— but— this is all just a transaction to him, is it not?

And yet, throughout all of this, she can’t stop herself from wishing. Wishing to wake up every morning in the same manner that she had today— pressed up against him, warm and safe, close enough to him that she could steal a kiss off of him— oh, she’s so silly, fantasizing about what she can’t have!

Maybe she can start with an apology gift— maybe he’ll talk to her then— he did say last night he wanted to try lover-honey cookies, after all.

It’s been years since she’s helped with the recipe, but she’s memorized it— even as she’d learned spells from her textbooks she’d bought off of traveling bookwagons, she also made sure to pay attention to her parents when they baked, just so that she knew how to make it in case they didn’t have any and she wanted to bring some for Adrien.

She’ll have to go into town to find a couple of things, they might be low on sugar— but it’ll be good for her to get out of the house— the more and more she stays inside the cottage, the more she’s bound to get cabin-fever from the amount of thinking that’s going on in her head.

Oh, but…

She leans on her elbows on the counter as she looks at the fire lily in the little vase she’s procured from the cabinets, sighing wistfully. The vase doesn’t do it justice, since it’s been such a long time since she’s decided to cut any flowers outside and bring some indoors— it is a little dusty and a little chipped, but that’s alright. The vase is far too wide to house just a single flower— it almost looks out of place without any surrounding foliage. Maybe she should go out in the backwoods and search for shrubbery or moss to accompany it, after making the cookies— something dark green, so it won’t take away from the flower.

It’s a beautiful lily— she’s never seen such a beautiful blossom before. Usually the lilies she’s seen and planted over the years have been spotted and freckled along the petals— very reminiscent of the freckles along her face— but this one is completely and totally unblemished, favoring instead just a beautiful gradient from orange to dark red at the tips.

It’s nothing like the trumpet-bell-shaped lilies she’s known to grow— this lily isn’t shy in the slightest in its bloom. It curls open, unafraid, desperate to attract bees and other pollinators to the honey-like smell of nectar— she sighs to herself as she continues to admire it.

It is lovely. So lovely.

She’s never received a flower before.

Oh, sure. She’s received many gifts before. Alix with her pocket watches that tick and tock so delicately they must simply be works of magic— Alya with her many books that she lends to her whenever she needs to learn new spells— Nino always buying their lunch or dinner whenever the two of them decide to get food together in town and Chat is off with another competition against Luka.

Oh, and sweet Luka, of course, with his snake oil bottles— with the pearl earrings he’s made for her, even if she can’t wear them because of the demonic seals tattooed onto her ears— the countless of songs he sings and writes for her when he’s finally on land.

But a flower?

How had Chat Noir known to give her one of her favorite flowers? A gorgeous fire lily— oh— if only she could keep it in this vase forever. Nothing compares to the honey scent that the fire lily produces— she smells it softly, bending down more onto the counter to smell the aromatics, taking note of the buds of pollen that are ripe to explode.

“Princess!”

She straightens her spine with a squeak, almost knocking over the vase in an attempt to stand up straight, looking out to the front door. “Yes? W-what’s wrong, kitty-cat?”

She takes to patting down her apron that lays flat across the slim boning of her stays, just to have something to do with her hands, trying not to look as nervous as she feels.

Chat Noir shoulders through the front door, a clucking brown ball under his arm, grinning like a fool. There are black smudges against his feet and pants already, as always, somehow finding a way to succeed every expectation and find a way to stain his clothes. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong— in fact— look! I found her with the other ladies— look— she’s even letting me hold her!”

Henrietta.

“My goodness, you’re right—” She pushes her braid back over her shoulder, making her way over to him and their hen. Henrietta is absolutely tame in his hands for a bird that is notorious for scampering the other way the moment Chat looks at her. Goodness, she’s so small— easily could fit through any crevice of any tree she’d found during the storm— no wonder she’d been impossible to spot during the storm last night after she’d slipped out of the coup.

Marinette takes Henrietta out of his arms once she’s close enough to reach for her, checking her over for signs of injury— but there’s absolutely nothing, sans the slight complaining she gives when transferring into another person’s arms. No feathers missing at the back of her neck, there’s no bleeding, there doesn’t even seem to be any scuffling on her feet or claws— her eyes look healthy and clean. Miraculously, the hen is perfectly fine— even clucking softly as she turns her over to check her undercarriage.

She could cry. “Oh, Chat, this is wonderful! She’s completely unharmed! Blessed be this little hen.”

“I told you she’d be okay,” Chat Noir’s ears twitch as he leans up against the doorframe.

She tucks Henrietta into her side just to have somewhere secure enough to place her. “Where did you find her?”

“She was on the other side of the fence, actually. She was trying to get back in but couldn’t figure out on how to jump the fence or get through the gap.” His smile comes out a little lopsided, diamond green eyes filled with joy.

“I’m so grateful that you found her, Chat. Oh thank Tikki she’s safe and sound,” She wipes at her cheek, trying to wipe away any tears that are threatening to form. Goodness, Henrietta is alright. What a miracle this is— she’d been so hard on herself the night before, wondering why she’d left the gate open— she’ll never do that again for sure. Definitely not, and definitely not during an active rainstorm no less. She’s learned her lesson.

“Oh.” He blinks slowly at her.

“What is it?”

“You—” Chat’s lips twitch on the side with a widening smile. He reaches to her to pet at her cheek with a clawed thumb, and she can’t help but follow his hand down to her cheek with widening eyes, biting her lip. “You have a stain on your cheek.”

“I do?”

He laughs. “Is it from the flower? You know, I’ve been told that it’s good fortune to be blemished by a lily.”

“I—” She can feel her cheeks heat. Oh, Tikki! “I— uh— I never knew that—”

He pauses, and something about his ears as they twitch downwards gives him the appearance of being apprehensive, but she can barely look away as she feels the heat of his hand up against her cheek— she’s so desperate to stop thinking about this being their new normal. What she would give to have mornings filled with loving touches— loving glances— loving moments such as this.

“Do you… not want me to touch you anymore?”

She blanches, feeling her heart sink into her socks. “What?”

“You’re kind of shying away—”

“No— please— I mean— I don’t mind you touching me— my— face. At all. Please.” Oh, Tikki. What did she do to deserve this? How does she make herself stop rambling? “Please continue— I—”

“Are you sure?” His lips thin, his voice quieting. “You… don’t look comfortable.”

“No, I promise, I’m very comfortable. So very comfortable.” She nods as well as she can without accidentally poking her eye out on the thumb that rests at her temple. It would just be her luck to be that careless. Her voice sounds almost weak as she continues to speak. “Extremely comfortable.”

“Are you lying? I don’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable with me, Marinette.”

She squeaks when Henrietta decides to complain about being in her arms, trying to flap out of her grasp and try to fly onto the floor. “You don’t make me uncomfortable at all, Chat! Please don’t think that— I— you could never make me uncomfortable.”

“Here, let me—” He takes Henrietta out of her arms, tucking the little hen close to him.

“Oh, I—” She snaps her jaw shut. “You know, I have to leave.”

His eyes widen. She takes in the snap of his tail as he stands up straighter, his ears going ramrod straight, looking at her with such alarm that it almost shocks her herself— the tattoos on her ears start to burn as his magic flares. It flares more wide than tall, stretching to its limit, encompassing nearly everything around them, leaving her looking at him in awe at the actual expanse of his magic. Just how big of a reach does it actually have? Just how much of a range does Chat Noir’s magic go to? “Leave? Wait, where are you going?”

Oh, stupid! “I mean— I have to leave to go to the market to get more flowers. No— I mean— flour—”

“You’re leaving to get flowers?” He winces.

His magic continues to surge against hers, wider and wider, forcing hers to open up just as much in order to match his correctly. She can feel her magic stretch further than ever possible, trying to meet his from border to border, trying to push up against his in a perfect mirror. Is he… afraid? What is that feeling? She can’t place it at all. Why does her magic continue to try intertwining and swirling with his, trying to soothe him without her even directing it to?

“D-did you not like the lily?”

Oh, stupid little witch!

She takes a step back, noticing the way his eyes shine with sorrow she can’t place, and reaches for his arm. She can’t pull on it, not as he holds Henrietta, but she gives him a squeeze. “Oh, no, Chat, that’s not true at all. I loved the lily. My goodness, I’m in love— er, I mean, with the flower, of course— I’ve never gotten a flower before and I’m just so amazed that you ended up giving me my favorite flower— I just— please, Chat, it’s okay. Please don’t worry. It’s okay, kitty-cat. I love the gift too much to bear, almost.”

His ears flatten against his head. “Please don’t go.”

Sweet Tikki. At what point had her demon been convinced that she was taking back their demon seal agreements? After a full year of preparing for his help— why does Chat Noir believe that she doesn’t want him around for help anymore?

“I promise I’m not leaving, Chat, not permanently. I meant to say that I just need to go to the market to get flowder powder.” She scrunches her face, trying her hardest not to give herself another silly pat to the cheeks. “No— I mean— plowder flour. Oh, sweet Tikki. I need ingredients for the lover-honey cookie.”

“Powder flour,” His face relaxes, finally registering what she’s meant. She watches his relief spread across his entire body, starting from the way his ears sag slightly in a more comfortable position— his shoulders drop a smidge— his tail stops flicking— she can’t help but watch with a slack jaw as his magic starts to curl and coil its way back into shape, tugging at hers in a way that feels like he’s pulling her closer for a hug. She feels warm all over, giddy at having her magic being unfolded, matching his perfectly. She never knew she had so much of a range to her magic— what else is there about their connection that she doesn’t know about? “Do you mean a bag of flour?”

“Yes, flour,” She viciously nods her head, ignoring the curls in their magic as they push and pull against one another. “Do you— do you want to come with, so that you don’t feel like I’m leaving you?”

He perks up. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“Of course I do.” She wants him to stay with her forever.

“Ah. Actually, you know, it’s best if I finish up the post I was working on.” He looks upset at having to take it back, at least, giving Henrietta a loving brush with his claws from her neck down. “We don’t want the girls to keep escaping ever again, right?”

“Right. Yes. You’re completely right.” Oh, she could weep. How in the world did she manage this? “I’m going to go get our coin pouch, but I’ll be back from the market before you know it.”

“Right,” His ears twitch as he tries for a smile. “Yeah. Of course.”

-*-

“Stupid stupid stupid.” She tries not to kick up any of the dirt around her with her boots as she continues to walk down the path towards town. Oh, she’s miserable. Absolutely miserable. She never meant to hurt Chat Noir’s feelings in any way— her day dreams have made their interactions completely and totally awkward.

What is with her?

She needs to get her act together.

She has to.

Chat Noir doesn’t deserve her freaking out at every little touch and glance.

Oh, the way he looked at her, as if she were the one capable of burning him into a crisp, just by the way she had spoken about leaving. How could she ever do that to her Chat Noir? She wouldn’t dare even dream of it. Her earlobes burn at the sensation of having to pull away from Chat Noir’s magic— a curse, unfortunately, of having her soul bonded to the demon. It’s painful like a phantom pain— it’ll go away for a while just to come back and remind her that she’s too far away for their magic to reach and intermingle.

Although, now that she knows that his range can go much further, she’s tempted to believe that it must be psychosomatic. Maybe it’s her own worries being projected onto her own tattoos, but she’s not certain of it.

She stops to wipe at her eyes. Miserable. Absolutely miserable. She’s going to end up losing her friend this way, just because she couldn’t find it in herself to stop behaving like a lovesick girl batting and fanning her eyelashes at the first pretty boy she sees.

It doesn’t help that he’s pretty, either. With beautiful lashes and such a boyish smile that makes her heart rate go up and golden honey-colored hair and perfect green eyes— oh, Tikki! What should she do now?

She turns around, checking to see if she’s far away from the cottage to try to gauge if she can start screaming into her aprons without him hearing, only to see a black cat following along the dirt path with his tiny little paws. He meows at her, blinking slowly at her with green eyes, tilting his head just enough to imply that he’s asking a question.

She stares at him just a smidge.

“Oh. Did you decide you want to come with me?” She steps closer, infinitely grateful that she hadn’t started her desire to bury her face into the fabric of her dress.

Her magic curls against his on sheer instinct, but she registers something odd about it the moment their magic try to interlock. Usually it is nothing short of a perfect shape against each other, like their combined magic were made to fit together— but this feels like there are gaps. Where her magic should be filling in the gaps, instead, she finds her magic hesitating in some spots and areas, as if it is too shy to intermingle. She can’t find the edges to his magic at all, even as she tries stretching hers out manually and she wonders if he’s followed her because he’s afraid again.

Chat purrs when she picks him up. He’s a soft little thing, perfectly sweet and pliable in her arms as she turns him and pets along his chest, letting her hug him tight to her stays. She sighs into his forehead. The poor dear follows her to the market, truly concerned that she’s leaving… how can she ever allow herself to not tell him the truth, since the perfect moment is being presented to her now? “You know, I’ve never been considered a bold person, but I’m always willing to try if it’s for you.”

Chat’s tail flickers, giving her an indication that he’s listening.

“I’m sorry for hurting you today— it was never my intention to make you look so sad. Never in my life did I imagine that you would be upset at me leaving the house— I never want to see that face on you ever again, if we can avoid it.”

Her tattoos on her ears start to prickle at the words I want. After all, part of the rules of being her contracted demon is to take into account her wishes— however, she doesn’t want him to think she’s commanding him. Ever. He is always free to choose on what to do when she accidentally uses those words.

“I need to be honest with you.” She starts, desperate not to look down and attempt to gauge his reaction. “I do not want anything about our relationship to change, even after I say this— I understand. I really do. Please do not think you have to answer, or even give a response, I’d like for you to just listen for a little bit. It’s easier when you’re in this form for sure.”

Chat Noir chirps in her arms.

“I don’t want you to ever think that you make me uncomfortable, because that simply isn’t true. I understand that you want nothing to do with me in the same manner that I do with you— you will always be my familiar and my friend.” She feels giddy, being able to finally say it out loud. “My feelings for you are very strong. You’re my most valuable companion— and— and I— I thank Tikki every day for all the moments I can share with you.”

He butts her on her collarbone, nuzzling into her shoulder.

“The face you had made just moments before I’d left the house— your magic swelling up like a cloud, like it does now— I do not want that to ever happen again. You will never make me uncomfortable— and you never have. I value you so much. Too much. I care about you too deeply. I don’t need to cookies to know that I have feelings for you.”

Chat Noir stops moving.

And that says all.

She steels herself. “Do you think I’m playing a prank on you? Do you truly not believe me?”

He’s almost like stone in her arms.

“I— I would never do that to you. Please, don’t assume things like that. My words are pure.” She sighs to herself when his only response is to flick his tail. “Why don’t we go shopping for the bag of flower so I can make the cookies and prove to you my feelings?”

AO3 | Start Here | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [60]

ii. red queen

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: fighting, violence, angst.

Summary: You and Clarke adjust to your new life with your new family.

a/n: i wanna thank yall for all of the love recently! ive been dealing with a lot of personal stuff and have bad days, but then i log onto tumblr and see the sweetest messages from all of you and I start to feel better so thank you!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You and Clarke quickly agree that you should both teach Madi English. Though you both feel pretty comfortable with Trigedasleng, most of your friends and family don’t know it as well, and you want Madi to be able to communicate with them when you all eventually reunite. When you propose the idea to Madi, she seems eager to learn the language of the warriors. Most of your day is now spent watching Madi point to various objects as you and Clarke teach her the word in English.

One day after spending most of the morning teaching her, Madi drags you and Clarke down to the river, excitedly promising to teach the two of you something in return. Which is where you find yourself now, ankle deep in the water, the sun warming your back. Madi stands in the river between you and Clarke, a spear in her hand, eyes scanning the water around you. You and Clarke watch her closely, trying to take mental notes on her stance, her grip on the spear, her concentration, hoping to learn to catch fish the same way she does. 

Madi spies an approaching fish, and she lunges, spearing it easily, holding it up for you and Clarke to admire. But neither of your eyes are locked on the fish, instead, they are locked on the chain around her neck, which wiggled free during her movements. There hangs a silver chain, a familiar small silver sun hanging from it, swinging around as Madi looks between you and Clarke in confusion. Clarke reaches out for it, trying to get a better look, but Madi scrambles away, still slightly distrustful of you both. She approaches Madi again, much slower this time, letting the young girl know she’s not a threat. Clarke eyes the necklace, checking it over, before whispering in shock. “It’s definitely mom’s. Where did you get this?”

Madi shakes her head at Clarke, not understanding, still working on speaking full sentences in English. You pull your own chain from beneath your shirt, showing her the silver moon, before pointing to the one around her neck. She looks down at it, starting to understand, and she whispers, “Maunon.”

Mountain Men. You look at Clarke, realization already hitting you. “The Mountain Men. You were wearing mom’s necklace when they took you.”

A memory comes rushing back to her, one you hadn’t heard before. “Lincoln told me they leave things everywhere when they disposed of it, but he said they usually stuck to the same few areas, and sometimes you could find some good stuff amongst the pile of discarded things.”

You shake your head in shock, staring at the necklace, the last one in the set from your father, now around the neck of the last child on Earth. You let out a short laugh of disbelief, “What are the odds?”

“It’s like it’s fate. We were supposed to find her.”

You point to the charm and Madi says, “Deimeika.”

You respond in English, “Sun.”

“Sun?” You nod, letting her know her pronunciation is correct, and she repeats, “Sun.”

You smile at Madi and she smiles back at you. “Our very own dazzling sun.”

Clarke pulls up her sleeve, revealing the single star charm from your father, and a second charm, a cluster of stars, handcrafted by Finn. When she shows it to Madi, the young girl says, “Skaifaya.”

“Stars.” Madi repeats the word back to you, and when you both nod in approval, you kneel beside her, holding out your moon necklace, completing the trio. “Natshana.”

“Moon.” 

When Madi repeats the last word, you feel a strange rush of emotion, overcome by an overwhelming surge of love and adoration for your new found family. This next generation of women, the new trio of the sun, the moon, and the stars, who somehow found each other at the end of the world. You wish your dad was here to see it, to witness the legacy that he created and passed on to you and Clarke. You look at your family, a smile stretching across your face, and you whisper Clarke’s earlier words. “It’s fate.”

-

You drive the rover back towards Shallow Valley, home, nearly back from your multi day trip alone.  You and Clarke agreed that the earlier trip to retrieve solar panels from Alie’s field needed to be done, both of you aware of how valuable the rover is to your survival. You volunteer to go alone, and Clarke stays behind with Madi, a back up plan established in case you don’t show up within four days of leaving. You also take your radio and the satellite dish, and Clarke keeps the one walkie talkie with her. Most of the trip takes you out of range of the walkie, but it gives you both an extra layer of assurance that you can reach out if something happens. 

The trip, though, was uneventful. Boring, slightly lonely, but uneventful. Clarke and Madi made sure you had enough food and water for your trek through the desert, and the journey was a lot less awful than the last time you took it. You were able to easily retrieve the panels and attach them to a sled that Clarke rigged up for you, allowing you to safely drag the panels behind you instead of needing to carry them all the way back to the rover. 

When you finally reached the vehicle, it was exactly where you left it, untouched, unbothered. You replaced the panels and put the extra panels in the back before hopping inside and beginning the drive back to your home. You spend most of the drive back talking on the radio to Bellamy, a habit that has stuck with you, even now. And though he never answers, it brings you comfort to talk to him, updating him on everything that has happened on the ground since he left. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you see the sign to the village, and you drive the last few feet into the village, parking in the center. Clarke and Madi must hear you approach, because they come running out of the house, grins on their faces. Madi tears across the field and jumps into your arms, squeezing you in a hug. She whispers into your hair, “I was afraid you weren't coming back.”

You pull away to look at her. “I wouldn't leave the two of you.”

“Good.”

You smile at your twin over Madi’s head and she smiles in return, happy to see you. You turn to the rover and sit Madi in the driver’s seat, her legs just shy of reaching the pedals. You marvel at her height, the few inches she’s grown since you and Clarke found her nearly two years ago. “You’ll be reaching the pedals in no time.”

“And then you’ll teach me?”

You turn to look at Clarke, leaving the decision ultimately up to her, knowing she’s more of Madi’s parental figure than you are. Clarke can't help but smile at Madi’s excitement. “Yes, then we’ll teach you.”

“Until then…” You motion for her to move over and she does, and you jump into the vehicle and pull her onto your lap. “I’ll push the pedals and you steer.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” You look at Clarke, reaching over to hold up Maya’s ipod. “Where to?.”

Clarke jogs over to the passenger seat and pulls herself inside, turning to look at you and Madi as you turn the rover on. “Wherever the road takes us.”

-

You sit at one of the tables in the middle of the village, slowly patching a hole in one of Madi’s shirts. The sun shines down on you through the trees, keeping you warm, but not uncomfortable, and all around you are the sounds of life in the woods. Bees buzzing, birds chirping, animals scurrying through the bushes. The sounds bring a smile to your face, reminding you of a time when you and Clarke stepped out of a lab, greeted by nothing but death.

As you start to reminisce, you see a flash of movement nearby, and you look up just in time to see Madi slinking your way. You can tell by the way she’s moving that she’s planning something, and you put the shirt down on the table, watching her in amusement as she gets closer. She stops behind one of the smaller houses and looks towards you, motioning for you to join her. You suppress your laughter as you walk over to join her, ducking behind a house, out of view. 

“I want to prank Clarke.” She holds up a container of something black and liquidy. “With this.”

You dip your finger into the bowl and taste the liquid, lips puckering when you realize she picked some blackberries from the field, barely ripe, very tart. You smile and nod. “What do you have in mind?”

“Put it on my head and pretend I got hurt.”

You immediately shake your head. “If Clarke sees you bloody and thinks you’re dead, but then she finds out it’s a prank, she’ll definitely kill us both.”

“Fine, then we’ll put it on your head and pretend you got hurt.”

You smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

She leads you over to the clearing, out of view from the church, and directs you on how to lay. Once you’re positioned, she starts smearing and dripping the berry mixture onto your head, and you watch her as she works, face pulled into one of intense concentration. When she finishes, a grin spreads across her face, pleased with her work. “There. Now I’ll go get Clarke and tell her you got hurt, and you just lie very still.”

“Will do, boss.”

She stands and waits for you to close your eyes, so you do, rolling your head slightly to the side for dramatic effect. You hear her feet running away from you, followed by the sound of her retreating voice. “Clarke, Clarke, come quick, ani got hurt!”

You hear Clarke clamber out of the house, and you know exactly when she sees you because her footsteps quicken as she questions Madi. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, she said she was going to check the traps and I went to clean the rover like you told me to. When I got back, I just found her here like this.”

You hear Clarke drop down beside you, and her fingers lift to your face, gingerly tipping your head to look for a wound. “Madi get me a cloth, I need to wipe some of this blood away.”

Madi runs off and you hear her return seconds later, musing, “Maybe something in the trap attacked her.”

“The traps are only big enough for squirrels and rabbits, they’d be too small to attack her.”

You have to work hard to hold back laughter as you imagine a squirrel and a rabbit cornering you and beating you up. As Clarke grabs the cloth from Madi, she must see something wrong because she mutters, “What’s all over your hands?”

You peek an eye open, Clarke turned away from you, staring down at Madi’s berry stained hands. Madi pulls her hand away, trying to keep the prank going, but Clarke grabs her wrist and stops her, peering at her finger to get a better look. The expression on her face is one of utter bewilderment, and you can't help the giggle that breaks free from your mouth, amused by the expression on your twin’s face. Clarke’s head whips towards you in shock, her face scrunching into annoyance when she sees you lying in the grass, laughing at her. Beside you, Madi is also giggling, pleased with the prank she played. Clarke glares at you both, “That’s not funny! I thought you were hurt!”

You sit up and run a finger through the berries on your head, licking the mixture off your finger to prove to Clarke it’s benign. “Just a few blackberries.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and stands, already over the two of you. “Just for that, you both have dinner and clean up duty for the next three days.”

You both start to protest, but she holds up her hand to stop you, adopting her very serious mom tone. “Nope, no complaints. You’ve had your fun, now get back to work.”

Madi turns and heads towards the rover, already obeying and returning to her earlier chores, and Clarke turns to you as she walks away, giving you a smile. You smile back, fighting back a giggle at how well she plays the parent, and Clarke hands you the cloth so you can clean up. “You’re trouble.”

You shake your head, wiping the berries from your face. “She’s trouble, and she drags me into it.”

Clarke snorts, “Yeah, I bet.”

The two of you exchange a serious look, staring hard at each other, but you both break quickly, falling into a fit of laughter. As her laughter dies down, she motions back towards the house, “I have to finish up inside.”

“Yeah, I was fixing Madi’s shirt.”

Clarke starts to walk away, heading back to the house, but she turns around and calls back, “Can't wait to see what you have planned for dinner.”

Your mouth drops, sure that she was joking earlier with the punishment. “I thought you were kidding!”

“Nope! Do the crime, you do the time!”

You laugh and shake your head, calling back, “Fine, but I’m making all the foods you hate!”

“Can't wait!”

-

You peer down at the scar on your arm, given to you by Madi, now completely healed. The scar crosses over part of the scar you got from Clarke’s helmet during Praimfaya, making an X on your skin. You shake your head, your body quickly becoming a roadmap of scars from the various wounds you’ve received since landing on the ground. You’re about to seek out your other scars, prepared to reminisce, when you hear Clarke call your name outside. 

You stand and look around the house you plan to share with Bellamy in the future, smiling at it before you exit, closing the door behind you. You walk towards the center of the village, towards Clarke, and as soon as she sees you approaching, she holds up a dead rabbit. “It’s your turn to cook.”

You groan, staring at the rabbit in your hand. “I hate prepping rabbit, it’s such a pain.”

“I know.”

You roll your eyes, “So you killed a rabbit on purpose then? Just to torture me?”

“No, it’s just the luck of the draw that Madi found a rabbit in the traps today.”

“Right.” You start to reach out to grab the rabbit before you get an idea. “What if we sparred instead?”

“What?”

“We spar, the loser cooks dinner.”

Clarke cocks her head to the side, considering this. “And cleans up?”

“Yes.”

She puts the rabbit down, already stepping into a clearing nearby. “Deal.”

The two of you stand in the clearing, circling each other slowly, fists raised. Clarke goes on the offense, making the first move and stepping towards you, swinging a punch your way. You duck beneath it, her fist missing you, but you don't expect the follow up punch from her other hand, which lands on your face. You pull back in surprise and Clarke grins at you, predatory, a whole different person when she fights. You lunge at her and grab her by the shoulders, holding her in place as you ram your knee into her stomach. She doubles over in pain, slipping out of your grip, and recovers fast enough to swing her arm around and land a hit to your ribs. You jump up and elbow her, catching her in the shoulder, and she grabs your arm as you try to pull away, spinning you around.

She wraps her arm around your neck, putting you in a chokehold, squeezing just enough to get you to tap out. But you’re determined not to give up that easily, and you swing your elbow back and deliver a sharp hit to the side of her face. Her grip loosens and as soon as you’re free you jump away slightly, lifting your fists in a defensive position again. Clarke swings a kick towards you and knocks you off your feet, flat on your back, before she pounces on you. You roll her over easily, giving yourself the advantage, but she uses her feet to push you off her. You both jump up again and stand to face each other, before you run at each other at the same time, swinging your fists and dodging each other in a flurry of movement. Just as you start to get the upper hand, you hear a voice call out, frantic, “Stop! Stop it!”

You and Clarke jump apart, turning to look at Madi, her face pulled into a frown, tears in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Clarke’s mom mode kicks in and she walks over to Madi, dropping to her knees in front of her. “We’re just playing around.”

“So you’re not fighting?”

You walk closer to her. “Just play fighting.”

“Oh.” You see the distress leave her face, quickly turning into one of interest. “Can you teach me?”

Clarke’s disapproval is immediate, “No.”

“But Clarke-”

“I said no.”

You look at Clarke in confusion. “She should know how to fight. More of us probably would have made it when we landed if we knew how to defend ourselves.”

She turns and gives you a sharp look. “No, I don't want that for her. Besides, we don’t have to worry about things like that anymore. Octavia united the clans. When they get out of the bunker, everything will be fine.”

“Clarke the clans were united under Lexa and still fought.”

“We’ll keep her safe.” She stands, already walking back towards the rabbit, ending the conversation. “No more fighting.”

You watch your twin leave, and you shake your head in disagreement, but think that’s it, the conversation is over. Madi surprises you the next day by finding you down at the river, sitting on a rock, enjoying the sun before you catch a few fish. “I want you to train me.”

You look towards her in shock, already laughing at the request. “No way. Clarke will kill me.”

“Ani, I need to know how to fight. If we’re attacked I won't know anything beyond the few things my birth parents taught me for when the Flamekeepers came.”

You sigh, knowing that you agree. Madi’s odds for survival, both now and in the future, are highest if she knows how to defend herself. And though you see Clarke’s reasoning and understand her fear, you still don’t think that’s enough to keep Madi in the dark. War and death ended all of your childhoods as soon as you landed on the ground, something you all desperately tried to get the adults in your lives to understand. It was hard for them to accept that the kids they sent to the ground were no longer kids, but as soon as you started getting picked off, all of your childhoods ended. You understand that Clarke doesn't want that for Madi, but you hated how defenseless you were before you learned how to fight, use a sword, shoot a gun, and you know you don't want that for Madi. “If we do this, Clarke can't know.”

Madi turns towards you in surprise, fully expecting that you were going to say no. “Really?”

“Really. We’ll train every few days in the berry meadow. Clarke never goes out there, and it’ll be safe for us there.”

“Thank you, ani.” She hugs you tight before standing. “I have to get back before Clarke realizes I left, but we can start tomorrow at noon.”

You nod. “I’ll see you there.”

“In the berry meadow, at noon.”

You nod in confirmation and repeat, “The berry meadow. Noon.”

She smiles and runs off and you smile after her, her joy contagious. The dazzling sun, so bright and warm. 

The next day you meet her at the meadow, and every few days after that, teaching her to spar and fight, how to use a sword, and all the basics of guns without actually shooting one. Things go well for a few months, as Madi gets better and better, all without Clarke suspecting a thing. Of course, that doesn't last forever, and Clarke eventually figures everything out. She’s mad at you at first, utterly livid, and she yells at you for at least twenty minutes about how you disobeyed her wishes and went behind her back to do it. But at the end of her speech, she surprises you by saying, “If we’re going to do this, we train her harder and better than anyone ever trained us. We push her until she breaks and then we keep going. We train her until she’s strong. Unstoppable.”

You immediately agree, relieved that Clarke was only mad for a little while. You stand, about to pass the good news to Madi, but Clarke stops you at the door, her voice cold as ice. “Promise me you’ll never go against my wishes for Madi again.”

“I promise.”

You try to leave again, but she stops you. “I’m serious, la lune. If you go against my wishes again, I won’t be as forgiving.”

You nod, mildly concerned with how serious she is, agreeing to it nonetheless. “I understand.”

She finally lets you leave and deliver the news to Madi, who is beyond excited to be trained by both of you. 

And you do exactly what Clarke wanted, pushing Madi past her limits, exposing to every possible scenario you can imagine, preparing her for absolutely anything that would come her way. 

Unfortunately, none of you could have predicted what would happen two years later. None of you were ready for the mystery ship to enter the sky and land in the valley, your valley, your home.

-

You sit in the small house you’ve prepared for you and Bellamy, looking at the stars through the window in the ceiling, lifting the radio to your lips to continue telling him the events of the day. “It’s been 1,923 since Praimfaya. Just over 5 years. I spend most days with my eyes turned towards the sky, looking for you, waiting for you to come back. It’s been three months since it was safe for you to return and everyday that passes without you here is worse than the one before. I got through the five years without you because I knew that when day 1,825 rolled around, I’d get to see you again. Instead, I spend every day waiting for you, disappointed when you don't come.”

You feel tears well up in your eyes, and you reach for the book that lays on the bed near you, brought with you each time you come into this house to talk to him. You flip the cover open and look down at the note, the tears falling down your face as you read through his words, now memorized at this point. “I’m reaching out for you, Bellamy. I need you to come home, because I don't want to do this without you anymore. Madi and Clarke have each other, and I know I have them too, but I need you. Just, please come back to me.”

You drop the radio and cry harder, quiet sobs slipping from you as you feel the pain that has never stopped. Just as fresh and painful as it was in the beginning, now mixed with the hope you’ve started to lose when he didn't show up three months ago. You choke back another sob, but you freeze in place when you hear a sound nearby, somewhere inside of the small house. Your voice wavers when you call out, “Hello?”

You stare at the doorway to the bedroom, waiting, and seconds later a small figure appears in the doorway, looking sheepish and worried. “Hi ani.”

You try to smile at her, quickly wiping away the tears from your face, not wanting her to see you cry. “Hey, Madi. what are you doing here?”

“What’s wrong?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

Unconvinced, she steps into the room, plopping down onto the bed beside you, putting her arm around you to comfort you. The gesture chokes you up and she whispers, “Are you talking to Bellamy?”

“Yes.”

“And he doesn't answer?”

“No.”

“Do you think he can hear you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Clarke told me that you’ve called him everyday since Praimfaya.” You look down at her in surprise, unaware that she knew. Your radio calls to Bellamy aren't necessarily a secret, but you always have them by yourself, and you usually do them late at night, while Madi and Clarke sleep. You don't know why; maybe it’s for the privacy, maybe because you’re worried they’ll judge you for talking to a man who hasn't answered once in five years. Whatever the reason, it hasn't come up since Madi joined your family, and you always assumed she didn't know. “If he could hear you, I think he’d answer you.”

“Maybe. A lot of things change in five years.” It hurts your heart to say it, but the reality of it is true. If Bellamy thinks you’re dead, he’s probably mourned you and moved on. The thought tears you up inside, but there’s nothing you can do about it down here.

“Clarke’s told me how much he loves you.”

You watch her closely, an earnest, sincere expression on her face. “When did she tell you that? Because I don't remember any of her stories saying anything other than ‘Bellamy and ani are dating’.”

“I used to see you sneaking out here by yourself every night and I asked her what you were doing. She told me that you call Bellamy every night and talk to him, because he is your soulmate and you both love each other very much. She said Bellamy loved you as soon as he got to the ground, and he used to be mean to you to hide it. She also told me that you loved him as soon as you met him, you just didn't realize it at first.”

You laugh a little. “Clarke said a lot, huh?”

“Please don't be upset with her. She only told me because I wouldn't stop asking, and she told me not to ask you about it because your heart is still healing, and talking about it hurts you.” She looks up at you, face etched with concern. “I’ve been worried about you. You’ve been so sad lately.”

You’re silent, wondering if you should let Madi into this part of your life, into the hidden parts of your heart where your love for Bellamy lives. But then you look at her, at the worry in her face, the sincerity of her comfort, and you decide this hidden side of you shouldn't be hidden anymore. Because Clarke and Madi are your family. They love you, unconditionally, and would never judge you for calling Bellamy. “I just miss him, Madi. They were supposed to come back a few months ago, and I’m worried that they’ll never come back.”

“I know Skairipa is going to get the bunker open, and I know Bellamy is going to get everyone back down again. He’s coming back for you, I just know it.”

You wrap your arm around her and drop your cheek onto her head, drawing in the comfort she’s offering you. “Thank you, Madi.”

The two of you sit on the bed side by side for a while, spending most of the time reminiscing on your relationship with Bellamy, Madi now able to ask the questions she’s always wondered about. And when you finally fall asleep that night, you have a sense of peace you’ve lacked for a while, brought to you by a little girl who shines on everything around her like the sun.

-

As soon as both prisoners are dead, Clarke turns to you and tosses you your gun. You holster it and your knife as she runs over to Madi, checking on her. Once she’s sure she’s okay, Wanheda takes the lead. “We need to draw them away from here.”

“How?”

She thinks hard for a second, running through her options, before her face lights up. “Madi, do you still have that trap in that clearing across from the west ridgeline?”

“Yes.”

Clarke looks at you. “If you get a prisoner to that clearing and into the trap, the others will go looking for him. We can wait them out at the ridgeline with our rifles, and pick them off as they come.”

You nod. “You two go ahead and go that way, I'll take care of the rest and meet you there in a few.”

“Be safe.”

“You too.”

Madi looks like she wants to protest, but Clarke pulls her away before she can. You watch them leave, making sure they disappear from your sight before you take a deep breath and creep towards the village. You scale one of the trees on the perimeter, watching as the woman from before, the leader of the prisoners, sends them out in groups to search for you, Clarke, and Madi. You watch the groups peel off one by one, searching for the best one to trap, smiling when you see a group of two head into the woods, towards the direction of your trap. 

You slink down the tree and sneak up behind the two men, both of them walking a considerable distance apart, making things easier for you. You eye them both, deciding which to kill now and which to lead into the trap, finally deciding the tall blonde will be better to trap, and the shorter brunette man will be easier to kill. You watch the blonde man pull ahead, leaving the brunette behind, half searching, half trudging through the woods, looking annoyed. 

You sneak up behind the brunette man, pulling out your knife as you approach, and when you’re close enough to reach him, you jump onto his back, slam your left hand onto his mouth to quiet his scream, and plunge your knife into his neck with your right hand, killing him before he even realizes you’re on him. Then you jump off him, letting him slide to the ground. You sneak back into the trees, hidden from view, before you intentionally snap a branch, alerting the blonde to your presence. He turns around, looking around him frantically, his eyes eventually landing on the body of his dead partner. He runs over to him, checking him over, and you sneak ahead of the man, putting some distance between you, pointing yourself in the direction of the trap. 

As soon as you see the man reach for his radio to call for help, you call out, “I wouldn't.”

He looks up at you in surprise, aiming his gun your way, and you take off running before he can take a shot, bobbing and weaving through the woods as the man runs after you, trying to kill you. He follows you, completely unaware of the trap you’re leading him into, and as soon as you break free from the trees and into the clearing, you jump over the tripwire, hidden perfectly by Madi. The blonde man, however, does not follow suit, and seconds later you hear the trap trigger and the man cry out in pain. You turn around, looking at the metal spikes that have impaled him, and you get a flash of a memory, Diggs, impaled by spikes on a search for Octavia. You ignore the memory and run over to the man, disarming him quickly and tossing his gun away, so he can’t reach it. He looks at you, face contorted in pain, and begs, “Please, help me.”

“You threatened my family. There’s no help for you now.”

And then you turn and run off, weaving through the woods again, working your way up the ridge towards Clarke. As expected, the man cries out for help not long after you disappear into the trees, the cries following you your entire way up the ridge. A funny feeling passes over you on your way up, and you realize that the memory of Diggs is still pulling at you, begging to be remembered. You pause in shock when you realize why. Now, you’re the Grounder. You killed a man stealthily in the woods after hiding in the trees, you lead the second into a trap, and now you’re going to watch from afar, just like Lincoln did. It’s a surreal realization, one that leaves you feeling strange, but you don't have time to wonder why, not now. 

Instead, you take the last few steps out of the woods and onto the ridge, sneaking your way over to Clarke and Madi to take your place beside them, both of them looking your way as you set up your rifle. “And so it begins.”

-

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