#''ah this is nice. just sitting here enjoying nature :] no agenda or plans...''

[aromanticasterisms]

literally cyno and cyrus family moments are killing me. they are so...

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #6

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 5.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: reader is confused about feelings, so that’s frustrating lol. the boys are annoyingly perfect as per usual. other than that, fluffy as always.

a/n: HAHA. well, ngl, this date came for me. pls nobody kill me after reading this lol. as always, your feedback is encouraged and GREATLY appreciated. please let me know your thoughts! also, we are getting down to it! only one more date to go!! so exciting!

also, an official copy of the Pact will be up on Wednesday! so you’ll get two updates next week!! enjoy! 

Date #6

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You’ve been staring at this thing for way too long.

You can already feel the hint of a headache creeping behind your eyes, and it’s enough to have you setting the copy of The Pact that you stole from Jin down on the coffee table. Groaning as you clamber to your feet, you take a long moment to stretch and fight off the exhaustion that’s attempting to settle over you.

Tired mind somehow managing to continue limping on in its endless speculation, you yourself limp over to the kitchen. Staring at the kitchen sink with a few dirty dishes waiting, you consider splashing some water on your face.

Glancing up at your reflection in the window that’s just above the sink, you decide against it. Not when you’ve just managed to get completely ready for this date.

Your date should be here in about an hour, leaving you with too much time to sit and think. With a sigh, you begin to fill up one side of the sink with hot soapy water, deciding to do something productive with your time while you wait.

The soap bubbles that grow before your eyes has your mind wandering off again. This time, it’s remembering last week and a similar soapy view. However, you’d been side by side with Seokjin. And that song had been playing in the background…

“What are you daydreaming about?”

You shriek, dropping a plate in the sink and facing the onslaught of sloshing dishwater and stray soap bubbles.

Jeon Jungkook resembles a caught crook outside the kitchen window. You consider breaking a plate over his head, especially as his typical wide eyed gaze has been replaced with a knowing smirk.

“Just thinking about throwing something at your head,” you sigh. Pulling the plug on the drain, you watch as the soapy water disappears. Hopefully it takes any evidence of your thoughts with it, but you have a feeling that your reddened cheeks have already given you away. “Why are you creeping outside my window?”

Jungkook’s golden laughter makes the corners of your mouth turn up. “Ah, I tried to knock. I don’t think you heard me, though.”

You blink. “Oh.” Has it already been an hour?

Did you just spend an hour washing the same plate while daydreaming?

“Oh is right. Now, are you gonna let me in?”

Wiping your hands on a dish towel, it’s one with stitched stars on it that Yoongi gifted you a couple of years ago, you hurry over to open the door. The second you do, Jungkook is stepping inside and locking you in a bear hug. Your squeal is muffled as you’re buried in his embrace, but you can’t quite find it in yourself to complain.

He smells like vanilla.

“Happy Saturday,” you stammer out. From where your head is pressed up against Jungkook’s chest, you can hear how his heart is hammering against his ribs.

Taking a step back to see what’s wrong, you frown as he looks at you with a fairly calm expression. There’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes which you’re sure is mirrored in your own.

“Happy Saturday to you, too. Ready?”

No, not really. Not since you’ve been planted at the sink, little beads of sweat forming due to the steaming water.

“Give me five minutes to freshen up?” You ask with an apologetic smile. Jungkook waves you off, pulling up the sleeves of his black, long-sleeve shirt and heading toward the kitchen.

“Sure, take your time. We don’t have a strict schedule tonight.”

Without waiting to see what he intends to do in your kitchen (pilfer snacks being the most likely course of action), you hurry to your bedroom.

There are hints of them everywhere you look.

One of the flowers from Jin’s bouquet is hanging upside down to dry above your dresser. You felt a bit like a teen doing that, but a small piece of you wanted to keep some sort of memory of last week’s date.

Jimin’s music box sits beside the books you bought with Namjoon. You’ve found that listening to the music box while reading is quickly becoming a habit of yours.

Of course, that means you snack on the walnuts that Taehyung left for you while reading. You hadn’t even realized that he left them until this past week. They’d been hiding in your cupboard, and you’d taken quite a liking to them. Either that, or the small sticky note that was attached to the bag.

A single heart traced in bold lines and scribbles.

Slipping on Hobi’s bracelet has become like second nature, making you smile as you twist it around the face the right way.

“Ok,” you breathe out with a glance toward the mirror. You smooth out your hair, straightening your blouse and black jeans. “Here we go.”

Of course, you can’t forget the biggest reminder of the boys.

The copy of the pact that you stole from Jin last week, currently atop your dresser-

“Oh no,” you breathe out as soon as you remember that the pact is not where it’s supposed to be.

You’d taken it out earlier for some light perusing, and had left it out on the coffee table. As far as you knew, none of the boys were aware of your thievery. Yet.

Sneaking out of your room and tiptoeing down the hall, you hear Jungkook humming to himself in the kitchen. Trying to remain as quiet as possible, you make a beeline for the front room.

You let out a sigh of relief when the pact is still undisturbed on the table. Swooping down to grab it, you turn on your heel and-

“AH!!!”

“Ah!” Jungkook yells back, towering over you.

“Why would you-” you hit one shoulder “sneak up-” you assault the other “on me like that?!”

Jungkook grabs your wrist, nose scrunching up as he looks at you like you’re some sweet woodland animal and not a crazy woman.

“Why so jumpy today?” He croons, doing his best to get under your skin. Then he frowns, releasing your wrist in exchange for stepping a little closer. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, gripping the pact in your free hand behind your back. “I just have to put something away and then we’re good to go, ok?”

He assesses you for another minute before stepping aside. “Sounds good.”

Rushing to your room and closing the door, you rest against it for a moment and close your eyes. So far, so good. Right?

Stuffing the pact into a drawer in your dresser, you grab your things and double check yourself in the mirror.

Why are you so jumpy today?

Perhaps the fact that all of this is coming to an end very soon is what has you on edge. The fact that Jungkook is here means that there’s only one date left.

And then what?

It’s a question you don’t know how to answer. And yet, you’re the only one that can.

Taking a steadying breath, you salute your reflection and head out.

Jungkook waits for you by the door, looking…well, looking like Jungkook. Black shirt, drawstring army green pants, thick boots. His hair looks a little windblown, which you know has become a recent sort of addiction for him. The thought of him driving with the windows down makes you grin. No doubt he looked like some sort of excited puppy with his hair flying in the wind.

Jungkook, unaware of you train of thought, just grins back.

“You look great,” he mumbles out, a tinge of pink giving him away. For all of your antics that you have a tendency to get into, you sometimes forget that Jungkook is one of the shyest out of all the boys.

“So do you,” you respond. Turning before you can spot the smile on his face, Jungkook opens up the door and escorts you outside. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”

“Well, that depends,” Jungkook skips down the steps, shoving his hands in his pockets. He reaches the car before you, pulling the passenger side door open. “What do you wanna do?”

You pause before sliding into the car, noting that it’s the same one you took with Namjoon. It’s an SUV, much more spacious than the smaller cars you drove in with Hobi or Tae. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Jungkook heads over to the other side of the car before hopping in. You finally get in as well, looking at the boy quizzically. He fiddles with the keys, glancing over at you before resting his hands atop the steering wheel.

“This is your sixth date,” he muses. “I figured that this might be nice, for a change. You say the word, and I’ll take you wherever you wanna go. We have…” he squint at the clock, which reads seven o’clock. “Approximately five hours.”

“Huh.” You lean back against your seat, staring out at the road with a dumbfounded expression. “Really? Did you just not plan anything?”

Jungkook looks offended. “Of course I did! I have a backup plan if you can’t come up with anything. I don’t know…I just thought it might be nice. Let’s go do whatever you want.”

The gears in your mind begin to turn and you’re half tempted to just go with whatever Jungkook has as his backup plan, until you remember something.

“You mean it?” You ask, wiggling your brows at Jungkook. “Whatever I want?”

Jungkook stares in disbelief at the rundown building, a smile fighting its way onto his cheeks. “This? This is what you wanted?”

He must have thought that you’d choose something a bit more daring than this. However, you nod happily, slipping out of your seat and wandering over to his side of the car. He still remains inside, looking at the building with absolute confusion. With a sly grin, you open up his door and gesture for him to exit.

“C’mon, let’s eat.”

Together you make your way inside the open air restaurant, taking in the sight and smells. You wave at the worker behind the front counter, who grins and waves back at you.

Taking a seat in the far corner at a plastic chair and table, you can’t help but laugh at the awestruck expression on Jungkook’s face. The lighting inside is poor, it doesn’t quite reach your corner of the room. However, just enough of it reaches Jungkook to highlight the shadows on his face and occasionally catch on his eyes.

“This place has the best lamb skewers,” you explain. “I haven’t come out in a long time.”

Jungkook’s expression melts into one of adoration as he looks at you, and you wonder if he realizes it. “I love lamb skewers.”

“I know.”

When you’re ready, you call out your order to a passing worker. They nod, rushing to the back to pass it on. A few people are scattered throughout the restaurant, most of which are too enraptured by their food or their friends to pay any attention to you two. Jungkook blends right in, except for his giant boots that set him apart. Hopefully nobody will pay them any mind.

Settled across the table from Jungkook, you let out a sigh of relief.

“What?” Jungkook immediately asks, ever the intuitive one. “Are you sure everything’s alright? Maybe I should’ve come up with something fun to do instead of make you choose-”

You hold up a hand, waving him off. “No, I’m happy. This is…nice.”

Jungkook blinks, and suddenly you’re reminded of a date you went on in middle school. He somehow manages to revive those same butterflies when he looks at you like that.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you reassure. “Although I am a little surprised that you aren’t the final date. Didn’t you decide the order?”

“Ah,” Jungkook leans back, forgetting that he’s sitting on a stool. He nearly topples over, making you lurch forward and grab his hand. “Uh, thank you,” he mutters as he sits up straight.

“Careful,” you quietly chide, going to sit back down. You attempt to take your hand out of his grasp, but Jungkook latches on. Intertwining his fingers through yours, he gives you a soft smile which has you relaxing in his grasp.

Resting your hands in the center of the table, Jungkook speaks up again. “Anyways, yeah. The order. I was planning on going last, but then the thing that Yoongi has planned didn’t work out for any other weekend. So we swapped.” He takes up tracing the outline of your knuckles, resting his chin in the palm of his free hand.

“I see.” The way that the shadows are playing with Jungkook’s features has you remembering a different time when you two were stuck a in dark room. “So…uh…” you try to come up with something else to say in order to fight off the memory of Jungkook’s arms around you.

You suppose that’s when it all started. And that’s traitorous question which had popped up into your mind in the haunted house, when you wondered if Jungkook was about to kiss you.

And you wondered if you’d let him.

Sitting across from him now and seeing how his eyes widen with excitement as your food is placed before you, you try and fail to fight off a similar question. One that’s been plaguing you for weeks now.

“These’re ‘mazing,” Jungkook coos as he takes another bite of the lamb skewer. “Why haven’t you told me about this place before?”

Chuckling at his reaction, you grab his wrist and angle the skewer toward you. Leaning forward, you take a bite of the food and watch as Jungkook visibly swallows.

You shrug. “It didn’t seem like something worth sharing at the time.”

“Mmm,” Jungkook appears to be scolding you, but the words aren’t quite coming out as food keeps going in. “Mm-mmhmm.”

You burst out laughing at his impressive performance, leaning back and-

Thwack!

Stool slipping out from under you, you collapse onto the ground in a fit of laughter. Jungkook throws his food down, jumping up to his feet and looking concerned until he sees that you’re still laughing. Shaking his head, he extends his hand and helps you back to your feet.

“It’s gonna be a miracle if we make it out of this place without a concussion.”

You wipe fake tears from your eyes, settling back down on your chair. “Promise me you’ll pay for my hospital bills?”

“I’ll consider it.”

When you gasp in offense, he points to the food. “Hey! It’s not my fault that you were keeping vital information from me! That really threw a wrench in my trust for you!”

“This is what you consider vital information?”

“Hey, don’t judge me.”

“I’m just saying…it’s a little concerning.”

“Don’t we tell each other everything?” Jungkook shoots back with pleading eyes. To an outsider, it looks like a typical lover’s quarrel. Little do they know, you’re bickering about lamb skewers.

You shoot him a pointed look. “Oh-ho, you really wanna talk about sharing everything? Need I mention a certain pact-”

“No, you do not.”

“Hmph.” You cross your arms. “That’s what I thought.”

“In my defense, I did tell you. Eventually.” From the way he begins chewing on his lips you can tell that he’s remembering the circumstances in which he told you about the pact.

However, it’s the way his eyes dart down to your mouth that have you recalling a feeling of unfinished business with Jungkook. You’re not quite sure what it is, but it’s there.

“After two years.”

He points a finger at you. “Hey, two and a half- oh, wait.”

“That didn’t help.”

“No yeah, I see that now.”

You snort, grabbing some food. It’s all too easy to slip back into your familiar banter with Jungkook. You’ve missed it.

Jungkook looks a little lost in his thoughts as he munches on his lamb skewer, a pout forming on his face. You nudge his knee under the table, shooting him a questioning look.

“What’s up?” You ask quietly.

He resumes chewing on the inside of his cheek, staring down at his food like he’s about to interrogate it. “Do you regret it?”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s referring to, but either way it leaves a knot in your stomach. “Regret what, Guk?”

Jungkook shrugs, his pout only growing. “Finding out about it? Agreeing to all this?”

Setting your food down, you ponder for a moment over the past six weeks. Perhaps a small part of you does regret knowing. However, it’s more for the fact that you know things can’t return to normal. Not after all you’ve experienced. Not after the way certain people have managed to lodge themselves into your heart more than you’d care to imagine.

“This,” you begin, and without thought you find yourself reaching across the table for Jungkook’s hand. He reads your thoughts, meeting you halfway. “Is the most terrifying thing I think I’ve ever done. It’s weird, and new, and frightening.”

Jungkook nods, seeming to have expected this. Before he can come to some silent understanding within his mind, you continue on.

“But I wouldn’t change it for the world. These last six weeks have been…” you shake your head, struggling to find the words.

How do you put this into words? Those small moments between breaths, the way you felt from the way some of the boys looked at you. How do you explain that you have never before felt so loved in your life? That despite the worries and improbability of it all, you would never change it for the world?

“…perfect.”

Blinking up at you, Jungkook looks a little shocked. “Perfect?”

“I’m glad you told me,” you admit, voice coming out a nothing more than a whisper. “I hope you don’t regret it.”

Jungkook’s eyes trail down to where your hands are interlocked. “I’m glad I told you, too.”

You feel so warm, sitting here. The food is half gone, the restaurant is loud and busy. Jungkook keeps one hand in yours as he takes up his skewer again, making sure to give you a bite every once in a while.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the rain that begins to fall. It drizzles at first, however when a clash of lightning strikes, you jolt. Jungkook squeezes your hand.

“Eat up,” he mumbles. “What do you wanna do after this?”

The rainfall seems to quell your thoughts, finally silencing them as you focus entirely on Jungkook. “I’m not sure…how about you choose? I already chose the food.”

Jungkook harrumphs his agreement, jumping up to go pay while you finish off the remaining food. It’s utterly delicious, even more so than you remember. Truly, your love of food knows no bounds.

You snort at yourself, probably looking like an idiot but enjoying your own company. Jungkook wanders back over, a half-smile already on his face at your state.

“What’s so funny?”

You shake your head, pointing to the platters of food. “I swear, I’m just using you guys so I can eat whatever I want. It’s amazing.”

Jungkook lets out a startled laugh. “I can’t believe you. Using us like that.” There’s no bite in his words, which only makes it all so much better. “C’mon, we’ll have to hurry to the car. It’s pouring out there.”

Indeed it is. Together the two of you sprint toward the car, cursing the fact that you didn’t have to foresight to at least bring a jacket. Instead you fend off the rain by throwing your hands over your head, heart melting a bit when you feel Jungkook trying his best to lean over you to take the brunt of the attack.

Once you’ve leapt inside the car it’s only a matter of seconds before Jungkook is on the other side. He shakes out his hair as he starts up the car, making you shout in protest.

Naturally, he does it a bit more.

“Yah!” You shout. “I surrender!”

This seems to sate him, making him smile at you mischievously. “Good.” Pulling out onto the road, he takes off toward an unknown destination. “Sit tight, we’ll be there in a bit.”

It doesn’t take long to get there. It’s a little difficult to tell where you are exactly due to the heavy rain, but you can just make out a pond and grove of trees beyond the downpour.

“Stay right here,” Jungkook instructs before diving out of the car.

Like, literally dives. You’re fairly certain he goes headfirst, making you burst out into peals of laughter. He reappears a second later, already drenched while he begins to lay the seats down. You’re dying to ask what he’s doing, but you’re not sure if he would be able to hear you as heavy raindrops thud against the roof.

Once he’s managed to get all of the seats down, he makes his way to the trunk. He glances up to where you watch from the front seat, a look of determination shining in his eyes.

“Close your eyes,” he orders. It’s hard to hear him, but it’s easy enough to read his lips. They’re glistening with raindrops, which he hasn’t bothered to lick off yet-

Er, it’s not like you were staring. Nah. No. Nothing like that. Just happened to notice them.

Yeah. That’s what it was.

Despite your curiosity, you turn around to face the front and close your eyes. It’s hard to tell what’s going on behind you, but you occasionally catch the sound of Jungkook crawling around.

It feels like an eternity later when Jungkook opens up your door, making you jump at the sudden onslaught of rain. He grins at you from behind his soaked hair, extending his hand.

“Hurry!”

Jumping out of the car, you chase after Jungkook who keeps a firm grip on your hand. He leads you around to the back of the car, where he hurries to open up the trunk.

You hardly have time to take in the sight the unfolds before your eyes before Jungkook wrapping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into the car. You push your hair out of your eyes, about to crawl forward when a hand on your ankle stops you.

“Shoes!” Jungkook shouts, apparently past the point of speaking in full sentences. Turning around to sit down properly, you get to work on one of your sneakers while Jungkook takes the other. Once they’re off, you crawl up to the front to toss them onto the floor.

Once they’re safely stowed away, you turn around and take a look at the back of the car.

Somehow, in the span of just a couple of minutes, Jungkook has transformed the back of the car into an impromptu paradise.

As he clambers in and brushes past you to toss his shoes up front, you gape. A couple of pillows are propped up on the edges of the car, looking like clouds amidst the sea of the comforter. The blanket itself is soft to the touch, and you spot another blanket folded in the corner. Hanging from the latches on the ceiling are battery powered string lights, dowsing you in a fairy-like dreamland.

The hatch remains open, providing a breathtaking view. Sure enough, there’s a pond. Just beyond the bond stands a grove of tall trees, hardly wavering in the rain. The entire view is nothing short of ethereal. It’s enough to leave you wondering for a moment if you’ve unintentionally wandered into some strange remake of A Midsummer Night’s Dream because you’ve become that there’s no way magic doesn’t exist.

And there’s Jungkook, sitting across from you with a timid smile while he delves into one of his many pockets in his cargo pants. A second later he produces a deck of cards, tossing them between you where they land softly on the thick comforter.

“This,” he says a touch breathlessly, “was my backup plan.”

There are no words left in your brain to describe this moment. The way water droplets drip from the long strands of Jungkook’s hair has you mesmerized, and you force yourself to reach out for that deck of cards and slide them from the box.

“This,” you stammer out, “is the best backup plan ever.”

Jungkook is radiant as his smile grows, nose scrunching up and a soft chuckle leaving those lips. “Thanks.”

You’re not sure how long you’re in the back of the car, playing Egyptian Ratscrew until tears are running from your eyes as you laugh and squeal. Jungkook inevitably wins, probably due to your vision being impaired by said tears. Eventually you decline a 33rd round (he says that it’s only the eleventh but your throbbing hands say it’s definitely the 33rd) in favor of laying out and watching the rain.

Jungkook joins you where you sprawl out on your stomach, watching the ripples in the pond as the rain continues. It’s let up a bit more now, but the sound of rain on the roof is enough to lull you into a tired trance.

Leaning into your side, Jungkook loops his arm through yours until his hand is resting on your own. You automatically rest your head against his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

“Your hands are so red,” Jungkook whispers. You snort, examining your abused hands.

“Yeah, I told you that you slap hard,” you whisper back furiously. Jungkook chuckles, making you shake along with him.

“Don’t act all innocent. You about killed me,” he replies, showing off his reddened hands. “I forgot how brutal that game is.”

“Me too. But it’s so fun.”

“Mmm.”

“I mean, when else do I get a free pass to slap you?”

Now Jungkook laughs in earnest, the sound going straight to your heart. “You’re ruthless.”

“Hey, you’re the one that has a thing for ruthless women.”

“Touché.”

Soon the rhythm of the rain fades into the background as Jungkook takes up a melody, humming softly. Your eyes drift shut, taking in the sound.

It would be so easy to stay here forever. The blanket is so soft, Jungkook is so sweet, the view so perfect.

Your lips form the words before you completely comprehend what’s going on. “…wanna stay here.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook asks, his voice coming from above you. He shifts, arm resting along your back and wrapping around your waist. “What’d you say, jagiya?”

“I wanna stay.”

“We can stay a little longer,” he reassures gently. You shake your head, nuzzling deeper into his side.

“Forever, though.”

“You wanna stay forever?”

“Mhmm.”

Jungkook brushes a hand through your hair before running a finger along your jawline. “Back here, with me? And the blankets?”

You hum in agreement. “And the lights and the rain.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “It can’t rain forever, jagiya.”

“Why not?” Your brain isn’t completely coherent at the moment, but you don’t try to stop it.

“We’d float away.”

“Oh.”

“Ok?”

“Mm.”

Eventually the rain turns into a light drizzle and Jungkook deems it time to head back. It’s already late, but you find yourself wanting to bask in the soft glow that the string lights provide for just a moment longer.

Jungkook reassures you that he won’t put the seats back up yet, but that you need to head up front. Getting up and moving seems to kickstart your brain, and you’re much more awake when you settle into the front seat.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the radio quietly singing. You two sing along, and you stare out the window as you drive down the streets of Itaewon. You pass the spot you ate earlier, making you smile.

All too soon, you’re turning onto your street. It’s enough to make you attempt sinking through the seat, but Jungkook parks the car and comes around to your side.

“Welcome home,” he mumbles as you slide out of the car. You turn your face up to the sky, allowing the light rain to wake you up a bit more.

“Thank you.”

Jungkook takes your hand in his as you head up the stairs to your apartment, and you wonder for a moment if that’s your racing pulse you feel or his own. It’s that question that has you racing back to reality.

The doorstep.

You reach your door, turning to face Jungkook. You haven’t even tried getting your keys out yet, the thought hasn’t crossed your mind. Instead, you stare up at Jungkook only to find him chewing on the inside of his cheek and staring down at the ground. He massages the back of his neck, looking for all the world like he’s forgotten how to speak.

“Thank you,” you repeat for the second time in less than a minute. “I really enjoyed it, Jungkook. I…” your words trail off as Jungkook takes a step forward, hands reaching around you to wrap around the railing of your porch.

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened…” Jungkook’s eyes snap up to yours, and they betray his next words as they drift to your lips. “If I had kissed you that night?”

A sound comes out of your throat, however you’re not sure if it was a half-formed word or simply a reaction to the way Jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip as he tilts his head to one side.

He takes another micro-step, effectively trapping you between him and the wrought iron railing. “Because I do. Every day.”

Again, that question comes flying back from the catacombs of your memory. Right now, you wonder if he’ll kiss you.

You wonder if you’d let him.

The fact that this question has been on your mind for so long makes you realize the answer to his question.

You’re not sure how you manage to speak as you feel Jungkook’s hands slide onto your waist, but you do. “Y-yes. I do.” Taking a deep breath you utter out, “Of course I do.”

Another step, a bit of rain slipping down the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’s stopped breathing, but you wonder if that’s only because you’re holding your breath.

He’s leaning down, eyes so focused on yours that you feel as though your soul has been laid out before him. Finally, once he’s mere millimeters away, he takes a shaky breath.

“Just once.”

You wonder if it was meant more for himself than for you, but you don’t have time to entertain the thought for long before he’s pressing forward.

The first touch of his lips against yours reminds you of the paradise you were in just minutes ago. His lips are soft – so soft – against yours, reminding you of resting on a cloud. His lips are hesitant, so unlike the iron-like grip he has on your hips.

Some part of your brain is screaming at you, although you’re unsure of why. What could the consequences of such a beautiful action be?

It’s beautiful enough to make you frown when Jungkook pulls away, the raindrops on his lips long gone as you taste them on your lips. He looks down at you sheepishly, taking a single step back.

“I- I…” he chokes the words out, looking like there might be an internal war going on in his head as well. For a moment, he wins. “One more,” he whispers, the words almost lost to the soft pitter patter of the rain.

He’s much faster this time, throwing caution to the wind as he closes in on you. One hand tangles itself in your hair, the other caressing your cheek as you sigh against his mouth. The kiss is a little sloppy, the force of it nearly making you stumble backward. You cling to his shirt in an effort to remain upright, attempting to somehow crawl closer despite your already close proximity.

One more quickly turns into two, then three. All you know is the feel of his lips against yours and the rain gently falling, having lost count a while ago.

Everything is Jungkook, Jungkook-

Completely unbidden, someone else floats into your train of thought.

You gasp as your thoughts take an unexpected turn, eyes flying open. The sight before you completely wrecks you.

Jungkook leans forward once more, hair a mess and cheeks rosy pink. There’s a dazed look in his eyes, and you realize that he must have assumed you just needed to breathe before falling into you again.

He leans in, quick to turn your thoughts toward him again. Soon it’s him, all him in your head.

And yet-

You stumble back as though struck by lightning, then jump in earnest as lightning does strike. Jungkook stares at you, but for a brief moment as his features are lit up by the lightning, all you can see is him.

What does that even mean?

“I- uh…” you’re practically panting, fighting with all you have to not reach out for Jungkook as he takes a step back. His eyes clear a bit, and you can already see the guilt festering in his eyes. You attempt a joke. “Aren’t you breaking rule #5?”

Jungkook blinks at you. “What? I…that was…a lot. I’m so sorry…rule five? What?”

“You know…the pact, rule five-” you throw a hand over your mouth, realizing that you may have said too much.

“How do you know that’s rule #5?” Jungkook asks, but you’re already pushing him off your porch and fumbling for your keys. “Wait, have you read-”

“Thanks again, Jungkook!” You shout over your shoulder, throwing your front door open. “And, er, I liked kissing you- wait, that’s not normal-”

Jungkook laughs, although still looking concerned. He frowns, and you do your best to avoid noting just how much pinker his lips look now. “I hope you’re ok-”

“Great! I’m great!”

You’re not. You’re a little frantic at the moment, but great.

With that, Jungkook waves goodbye and turns away, bidding you goodnight.

It’s a long time before you move out of the front room. Instead, you take up camp on your couch, staring off into the distance. Replaying, rewinding, reliving what just happened.

In the end, you’re more confused than when you began.

main masterlist

please let me know what your thoughts are! You don’t necessarily have to be rooting for one of the boys specifically, but let me know who you think has the best shot/who you really swooned over! ;) and yes, it’s ok to be confused. like, what the freak just happened. *nervous laughter*

I’ll see you guys WEDNESDAY with a copy of the pact for you to read as well as next Saturday for our final date! thank you for reading!

taglist is open, click on the link at the top of the post or let me know if you’d like to join!

taglist: @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou@protontippens​ @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton​@thecaffeinatedscribbles​ @moon-write​ @fangirl125reader​ @heishichoulevi​ @knjkitten​ @sacha-cff​ @vik7797​  @eusticenatalie​ @hesmyphenominiall​​ @miriamxsworld​ @kayahay​  @delacyrose224​  @luvtaeha​ @fanfictionreader05 @oknymz​​ @dreadity​  @starlight-night0​ @luzaroon​ @seaoffangirling​​ @prachi05 @fangirl125reader​ @bluehairedotakugem​ @hunnibxbe​ @kayahay​ @fanfictionreader05 @seokjinmoonfics​ @littletinyhobi​ @honeyhalcyon​​ @yoontaethings​​ @herrmionejgranger​  @beepbeep11​ @extraordinary_reads @hitsussi

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 14)

Natsume has been putting himself on the line for his sister. He's currently manipulating his way into the Hana Hime den, completely unaware that he's falling for a trap set for him. At the same time, his manipulations involve spending a lot of time with Mikan, and how his feelings of love for her complicate things.

Chapter Fifty-Six

The boys dutifully dress in girls’ kimonos, even if they are embarrassed. Natsume will do anything for his sister, so dressing in drag is really nothing compared to all the other stuff he has done and will do for her.

Upon arriving at the house for the party, Mikan is very excited, waving her hands (including the one not-actually-stuck to Natsume) and dragging him all over, which he surprisingly allows.

Yeah, yeah, the scans are low-quality, but what matters is LOOK AT THEM. She's so excited and dragging him around and he just lets her! I'm obsessed.

They enter, escorted by Shizune, who leads them past the party on the first floor, which is open to all Middle school girls. They are headed to the more exclusive party on the second floor. Many of the Middle school girls gossip about the group headed up the stairs, but Mikan is happy to notice Misaki and Nobara in the crowd. Nobara is excited to see her, until she sees Natsume there too. Her mood changes from excited to scared, asking why Natsume has come to this place and warning Mikan to get him out because he won’t be safe there.

Nobara is surprised to see him, but also scared for him, which gives off the impression that either she didn't think Natsume would fall for the trap or she wasn't aware that there was a trap at all but knows that the Hana Hime den is a dangerous place for him anyway. With this in mind, we can see that something very dangerous is awaiting Natsume. If he does find his sister, it won't be easy getting her out safely.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Almost immediately after arriving, Hotaru is able to separate from Ruka and Youichi, which spurs Natsume to finally give up Mikan’s hand as well. The MSP is obviously peeved by the boys’ presence and the role she was forced to play for Persona.

The flower princesses have decided to cheer the MSP up by choosing one of the incoming group to bully. Hotaru is absolutely out of the question, as she is the only one the MSP actually intended to invite. The boys are not chosen either, as Natsume is to be sacrificed to Persona and the princesses find them all cute. That leaves Mikan, who is immediately obnoxious and loud, the perfect target for ridicule.

Mikan is very excited about the traditions and rituals of the flower party, but she is very persistently excluded from each one. Even the boys get flower names (other than Yo-chan), but Mikan is ignored when she asks for one.

She is then excluded from the feast, with all the dishes purposefully taken from her and placed in front of other people. She is then given a “medicine” which only makes her smell bad so the other attendees want to stay away from her. Hotaru seems to be distracted by the special treatment she was so looking forward to, but Natsume is visibly bothered by the strange way in which the flower princesses are treating Mikan.

The games they play either exclude Mikan, mock her, or both.

In no time at all, she is thoroughly lonely, depressed, and hungry, her face painted all over.

They all sit around for another game, and the flower princesses decide that Mikan shouldn’t be invited for this one at all. Though Ruka and Hotaru are put off by this, Natsume has had enough, so he leaves the circle completely. Hotaru's way of defending Mikan is to get back at the girls through a game she invented, but Natsume's technique is a bit more straight-forward.

Natsume doesn't even like these people. Mikan, on the other hand...

Natsume has gone to fetch a dumpling for Mikan, a chestnut kuri kinton shaped like an orange. Perfect for her, he says. He then says he’s unbothered by the smell of her medicine, especially compared to the perfumes sprayed all over the place. Natsume doesn’t care about being polite and courteous to the MSP. He’s here to save Aoi, and standing by while these girls bully the love of his life won’t exactly help him save Aoi, so why should he do it?

So they end up bickering over something stupid again, and Mikan seems all cheered up.

She even seems sad to see him go to the bathroom, telling him to hurry so they can eat and spend more time together.

Pretending is so much harder when he can see that she actually enjoys spending time with him. How is he supposed to be okay with his fate when this is so much more pleasant?

He shuts her down, like it’s no big deal, but it is, of course, like everything else he borrows.

But he can’t have her waiting for him when he knows deep down there’s a chance he might not come back. He’s here for a reason after all, and that reason is sadly not to eat kuri kinton with Mikan. It’s to save his sister, who might be captive in a dungeon somewhere.

The MSP warns him not to explore too much, as she won’t be responsible for anything that happens to him.

He begins by looking for a bathroom, but there are no boys’ bathrooms, so he wanders around. His attention is immediately grabbed by some girls talking about “Yuki Aoi”. This is a trap, of course, just like everything else. He follows the girls downstairs into the basement, trying to look for Aoi, but the girls quickly report to Persona that it’s all going according to plan. It almost seems like too obvious a trap, but Natsume is desperate. He hasn't heard from Aoi in too long. He's so eager to find her that he doesn't see the warning signs, like that all the hints about Aoi are a bit too obvious.

Now is time for the Dangerous Ability Discipline Squad to be deployed.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Natsume descends into the dungeons, perfectly aware that he could end up staying there forever, and that he’ll be horribly punished for sure. There isn’t a lot of Natsume in this chapter actually, but his friends grow concerned about his long absence from the party, and wonder if Natsume has perhaps been punished as the MSP warned, for wandering where he shouldn’t.

We learn that the MSP has a very strong barrier alice, one that protects the whole school, and that it is very powerful in the dungeons, where Natsume is.

When we do see Natsume again, he has only gone deeper into the basement, when he sees a cell with a girl in it. He quickly rushes to her side, convinced that it’s his sister, but is disappointed to find that it’s actually Nobara with a wig, unconscious.

The problem is, now he’s locked in a cell.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Nobara, desperate as she was to make sure Natsume was okay, took Tsubasa with her into the dungeons, only to be isolated and put into a trance state. Natsume knows what the trance state means: it’s the only way she can be made to use her alice on missions, as she is usually good-natured.

He knows he’s in danger now, that the DA class has trapped him and that he might have to fight. And just like that, the Discipline Squad is there: Rui, Hayate, and Yakumo, all waiting for him.

Natsume has been acting out of line for quite some time now. He’s been going on missions that go against the agenda of the school, all to help his friends, specifically his "kitten of a different color". He’s been smiling and joking more, happy when he’s supposed to be eternally despairing. The higher ups don’t like that, and this is his punishment.

Rui explains what’s going on, since Natsume goes on missions on the outside and isn’t familiar. The Discipline Squad is a subdivision of the DA class to punish people who aren’t toeing the company line. The Hana Hime den basement is where they usually do their work. Tsubasa was once victim to Rui’s alice specifically as a punishment for his troublemaking, hence the curse mark under his eye. Natsume’s punishment will likely be much more severe.

Persona then appears, holding the unconscious Nobara, informing Natsume that this was the final test: that Natsume should have been obedient and not wandered down into the basement. However, he has failed the test and stepped out of line once again, and this is the last straw.

Ah, how nice to see the Discipline Squad, my beloveds. And Natsume looks so pretty in that kimono.

Natsume is immediately on the offensive, grabbing Persona and demanding to know where Aoi is, but Persona uses his alice on Natsume’s wrists so he pulls away. Persona then instructs one of the Discipline Squad to go and get rid of the four new intruders who have descended into the basement, so now Natsume knows he has an extra responsibility beyond simply rescuing Aoi (not that rescuing Aoi was ever going to be simple).

Despite always putting others first, he never considers that his existence matters to people, and that if he's in danger, his friends will come to protect him.

The squad decides Hayate will go, although he complains because he had apparently been waiting a very long time to be able to beat Natsume up. We can see that Natsume isn’t popular in the DA class either, and perhaps that Yo-chan is the only one who might admire him, even in a class where they’re all in a similar boat.

The silly antics and childish jabs of the Discipline Squad too are very interesting. They act big and tough, and were perhaps given heavy responsibilities, but they’re still children. Every single person in the DA class is a child, someone forced into these actions in some way or other, whether through emotional blackmail, physical coercion, or manipulation. All of these kids are under the illusion that they are more important than they are--simply pawns obediently doing their duty for the school’s benefit.

It’s an effective tactic to pit oppressed or victimized people against each other so they don’t focus on the real enemy, Persona and the ESP. The DA class demonstrates this quite well. Back in the day, Luna was pitted against Yuka. Natsume hates most of his classmates except for Youichi. He can lash out at Nobara, who is loyal to Persona, because he can’t lash out at the man himself. And all the other kids hate each other, get mad at each other, argue amongst each other. Hayate getting angry that Rui is calling the shots even though the real person in charge is Persona (and even further up, the ESP) is a great example of this. They are all so busy being mad at each other that they don’t realize the person pulling the strings is the one they should be angry at.

Anyway, Persona warns Natsume that because four new people have entered the fray, he might want to submit. After all, the dungeon has the highest concentration of the MSP’s alice, and he isn’t accustomed to it, like the Discipline Squad is. But if he refuses to submit, then Persona will give him answers if, and only if, he can defeat all three members of the squad. If he cannot defeat them, well, he’ll be trapped in the dungeon for the rest of his life. Naturally, Natsume has no choice but to agree to the deal. His sister’s safety is at stake, after all, and he would do anything for her, including possibly allowing himself to be locked in a dungeon forever.

Chapter Sixty

Persona leaves Natsume alone with Rui and Yakumo, and Natsume thinks to himself that this is an impossible situation. His upperclassmen are very powerful and their alices suit the name “dangerous ability”. At the same time, he realizes that he has to win, because he wants to save Aoi and avoid being locked up. But Rui decides to take off, sensing Tsubasa in the dungeon, so Natsume is left with only Yakumo, which might make things easier. One on one is easier than two on one, after all.

But Natsume is actually not relieved. If Rui senses someone he’s marked, then there might be another person down with them. In any case, he doesn’t want Rui to meet his friends. Hayate is one thing, but Rui is far more dangerous, and they might be in serious danger if he decides to use his alice. After all, Natsume can hardly use his alice properly, so even if his friends had a chance with their alices, they’ll be at a serious disadvantage in the dungeon.

Yakumo tells him to snap out of it, to stop being distracted, because then Natsume will certainly lose. So Natsume has no choice but to hope for the best for his friends and that the mystery fifth intruder will protect them in his place, and focus on his fight with Yakumo for now.

This translation is a bit unclear, but he's pleading for the mystery intruder (Tsubasa) to protect his friends because he can't.

It’s interesting, from what we see of Yo-chan standing up for the other intruders in the dungeon, that Natsume told him to look out for the others in case something happened. Why did Natsume entrust such a task to a toddler, and not to Ruka or somebody else? Well, for one, Natsume has been entrusted with caring for everyone around him at a young age too. It was his job to be the serious and mature one after his mother died, taking responsibility to be as adult as possible and protect his father and sister, even though that shouldn’t have been on his shoulders at all. He won’t think it’s unfair to ask Yo-chan for this, because he’s been through it too and it’s normal for him.

Another thing is that every kid in the DA class is extremely powerful. To be in the DA class, it’s not enough to have a potentially dangerous alice, or many other kids would be in it. Tsubasa could have been in sooner, or Ruka could have been enlisted. Even Iinchou’s alice could be potentially terrifying if used in the right way. But they’re not DA students, because the alice has to be powerful enough to exploit. Yo-chan isn’t just in possession of a creepy alice; he’s a prodigy as well. He has control of his power and can do terrifying things with it. He’s been put on missions and trained too, even as little as he is, and he can do much more with his alice than the others can. Natsume trusts Yo-chan because he knows how dangerous these situations can be and he’s the most qualified to protect his friends.

Natsume please. He's just a baby.

It’s tragic, but it’s the truth. The DA students are living very different lives from the rest of them, much better acquainted with the school’s darkness than anybody else could comprehend.

And Natsume might be locked inside it forever.

Chapter Sixty-One

We learn that Yakumo has insect pheromones. Natsume is fighting hard, using his alice to protect himself, thinking hard of Aoi to keep himself aware of what he’s fighting so hard for.

There sadly isn’t much Natsume in the chapter. He’s busy at a stand-off with Yakumo and the battle isn’t really going anywhere.

Something of note is Narumi, looking at Ruka’s postcard from his mother, pondering why the children haven’t returned yet. He knows something is up, and has no doubt known the whole time at the very least that there were too many coincidences involved in the banquet to be mere coincidences. At most, he was somewhat aware that Persona was planning on punishing Natsume. With Narumi, it’s hard to tell.

And he was right all along...

Narumi recalls saying that Mikan could be the key to Natsume’s future, because he’d had the hunch that Mikan would become Natsume’s light. Natsume has, after all this time, realized that as well. Nobody wants to be locked up forever, but he especially doesn’t after he’s found something that helped make him happy again. So he will fight hard, because he wants to see Aoi again, and because he wants to see Mikan again too.

Conclusion

Natsume is ready to fight his hardest to find Aoi and keep from being locked away forever. He was aware before that he might not be able to easily make it back out, but it's become harder than he had imagined. Now that he knows Mikan and the others have followed him, he has even more to consider.

It’s a shame that I won’t be talking about Natsume and Ruka’s backstory in this essay. I brought up what I wanted to at the very beginning of this essay, and I won’t say much more than that here. I’ll touch on it in the Mikan POV essay, and I’ll go into every detail I can when I eventually analyze Natsume and Ruka’s relationship, but for now, there’s not much I’ll say.

This may be surprising! No Natsume backstory analysis in a Natsume essay?! But I’d be repeating what I’d said in the beginning. This isn’t just a Natsume essay after all. It’s a ship analysis, and I’ve said what I needed to already. I’m sad to skip it because it’s one of my favorite arcs in the whole story, but I’ll beat it to death in the future, so all is well.

I'm sorry if this was underwhelming. Like I'd said before, this arc is all about discovering Natsume, and Natsume... is Natsume, so he doesn't need to discover anything. I don't want to repeat myself or beat a dead horse just to fill up space. I reckon there will be one more part to this arc! I'm also sorry for posting this kinda late. I got very busy this morning and now everything is off-schedule. I'll try to post at a normal time tomorrow.

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[aliypop]

All Roads Lead To Nowhere

Wordcount: 2,757

Character Count: 15,189

A/N: This is part 7 to Empatia I hope you guys enjoy it!

Warning: Usual Hannibal tendancies 

"Sorry, i'm bleeding on your couch," Abigail grunted as she tried to ease herself in a more comfortable position. Hannibal pressed the gauze pad over her wound, "What was that... I couldn't hear you over the gaping hole in your chest," he looked at the young woman. While holding his hand out for his assistant to give him his surgical needle and thread, he couldn't help but wonder how his wounded deer found its way home. Shanel, on the other hand, watched his hands move, guiding the needle and thread gracefully against the wound area. It was almost like cooking to him a second nature in the form of many talents. 

"What were you doing out there.." Shanel asked in a motherly type of tone.  Watching the way Abigail had reacted almost brought back memories from her upbringing when she would try to "escape" Christoper.

 "I was trying to outrun my past.." she looked up at the other woman hoping she would understand what she meant by her phrasing. Shanel gave her a nod and a teacup, "You'll need it, to take your mind off that troublesome past a bit.." she smiled, walking back upstairs. Hannibal looked back at her then at Abigail as he felt that for one moment in his life, he had everything he could have asked for, but sometimes happiness came with a price that not everyone was ready to pay.

 As the night got darker, the silence in the room became thicker. One with Shanel pondering on how to lean the evidence on Chilton, and two how to set Will free and back to his habitat, 

Hannibal, who had agreed to take Will's place for the remainder of his cases, laid there thinking as to how he could get away with all of his beautiful masterpieces, as he pulled Shanel closer towards his person. 

"How would you like to-"

"No." Shanel turned to look at the maroon eyed killer.

"No?" he asked, shocked that she even answered before he finished asking.

"Murder is not on tomorrow's agenda, Lecter.."  she laughed, her hand dangling off the bed.

"It's not on anyone's my pet.." he laughed, kissing her nose.

"Oh no, it's on mine, just not until Thursday." she half-heartedly joked, cuddling deep into the warmth of his skin, taking in his fresh scent of clean linen with a hint of lemon. "Why Thursday?" he asked, taking her hand to his lips, giving it a nice " passionate" nip." If you must know.." she watched the way his lips parted, "Hey, if you're planning to eat me at least make me into a nice alfredo," 

she laughed, seeing his eyes go into complete shock, 

He had never met a woman so full of life and dark humor that he would kill for except for maybe his aunt, who he hadn't heard from in years. "Does your mother know about your agenda." he gave her a soft, tired laugh.

"Good night Hannibal.." she rolled over, giggling at him.

"There's food in the refrigerator, books in the study, of course, in any case of an emergency-"

"Call you or Hannibal," Abigail said, her hands behind her back, watching Shanel pick up her keys from the kitchen counter, "And if we don't answer?" she paused to look at the teenager, 

"Code butterfly," she smirked.

"That's my girl." Shanel smiled, kissing her forehead while walking out the door. 

When she entered her office, she saw two things. One was Carl flirting, and the other was the tattle crime magazine on her desk. "WHO LET LOUNDS IN!" her voice nearly booming through the halls of the building. Susana ducked down, hearing the rage in her voice. Animalistic brown eyes made their way to the younger woman while the room around them was deathly still, "I trusted you.." 

"You can't blame me for your mistake." Susana gave a small chuckle while Carl turned away, "And besides, are you not Will's love toy-" Shanel grabbed her throat, hearing the sweet sound of life mangled in beautiful sounds of struggling,

 "I know where you live.. and I'll kill you if you speak to me again like that.." Shanel laughed, whispering in her ear, taking a nice lick of her ear, "Good, you're scared of me." she heard the other woman whimper under her like a hurt dog. "Y-you're hurting me.." she felt her let go. Although Shanel's day was a bit rough, it wasn't as bad as Hannibals. Playing Will Graham was becoming a challenge, so many ingredients for a  presented in front of him yet so little time to sneak away and take a prize for himself in front of him was a beautifully preserved body apart of a feast for sight. Yet he would do anything to get his hands on it to take a bite of the juicy flesh covered in resin. The aroma was practically killing him to fight it as he dwelled into the scent. Jack stood behind him, watching the way he observed the body almost like it was art.  "Well, did you find anything doctor.," he asked as Hannibal looked behind himself, 

" Preserved while still alive..." he examed some more of the body, "A rare case that can happen," he asked, watching the way Jack looked it over. Hannibal was pleased, to say the least, that he was blending in so quickly. Back in the office, however,  Shanel had quite the news to tell Hannibal about mostly because her receptionist had now gone missing. Which was something Hannibal would have found exciting, but as she saw it, he was busy.  

"Well... this is lovely.." Abigail stood behind the two adults, a butterfly knife in hand just in case she had to kill them both, "Simonetta would have been so proud.." the older woman who resembled Shanel whispered, looking at the portraits on the wall. Next to the woman was a man, he had short brown hair and glasses, 

"Do you think she'll be surprised.."  he asked, watching the way his lover looked him, "Amore, we are her surprise." she kissed him on the cheek. Abigail crept closer, trying to take a slash at the couple.

Abigail wasn't quick enough as she felt the pain surge into her arm. "I wouldn't do that piccola ragazza." he laughed, with a dark expression on his face. As the door creaked open, he leaned in closer, "Let us pretend you didn't try to kill me." he winked, watching her nod. 

Shanel and Hannibal walked through the door exchanging, their interesting days as she took off her suit jacket, not noticing how quiet the house was around her while on the other hand, Hannibal could sense that someone was there the scent of Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue went past his nose, 

"Rosalina.," he whispered to himself, hearing the sound of her voice, he hadn't seen her in years though he didn't know that his dinner exhibition had made news to Italy. Sitting in the living room was Shanel, who had made it her duty to relax first before she had gotten all dressed up for the occasion. But sneaking up behind her was someone that she knew very well. The footsteps behind her were silent, and his breathing was non- existent. Before she could turn around and he could plan his attack, she grabbed him into a hug filled with laughter and love. "Il mio piccolo guastafeste!" he nearly squeezed the woman. Shanel chuckled, shaking her head, "I am not a trouble starter, Milo." Hannibal, on the other hand, was stuck with Rosalina.

 "Taking care of my Shanel.." she asked, holding him by the arm. 

"She is my first concern, your highness." he turned to look at her, hist face aglow at the woman who once made him feel like home in his times in Italy.  "You don't have to call me that here," she smirked, taking in his more mature features.  Hannibal couldn't help but laugh at the way she looked at him. Turning his head, he could hear the cold metal clanking of swords in the living room and the sounds of grunts and laughter, "Ah, they've picked up where they left off.." she gestured for him to walk in.  Abigail,  who was keeping track of their score, looked over at Hannibal like a concerned child looks at their parents. 

"Like daughter like father.." Rosalina smiled, not noticing what she had just let slip from her mouth. Shanel looked over at her mother in disbelief. "Like who.," she asked, hoping she didn't hear the phrase correctly. In her mind, it didn't make sense for Milo to be the big F word in her life. It wasn't possible, and she refused to believe that her mother's butler was her dad, but if he were, he would have some explaining to do, like sitting there when her life was slowly leaving her, or sending her away to boarding school when she would have been home, let alone the wards and hospitals. 

"I have so much to do... Hannibal come with?" she ushered upstairs. 

"Shanel, wait!" Milo said, watching her slowly walk out his life again.

Hannibal sighed, watching as she threw another knife, this time catching it. He knew that at times she was one to lash out in anger, and luckily it was something he was good at, "You're taking this a bit hard, Ms. Mahone, what to do we do when we are angry." seeing the look of a shark smelling blood, he realized that his old tricks would no longer work. "Lets, talk this out perhaps." he ushered for her to sit on the bed. She looked up at him playing with her fingers, shaking her leg the things she used to do when they had first started therapy. 

"Well, I was thinking about us.." She got behind him, taking her pearl necklace from behind him.

"Changing the subject, are we.." he nodded, knowing that in time she would take it out on one of their victims. " No.." she looked away from and then back. "Yes..but the point is.." Hannibal sighed, growing impatience with her struggling. Though he couldn't say, he couldn't relate to it.

"DON'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING!" she burst out, hands almost hitting his chest. Hannibal grabbed her wrist, a blank expression on his face watching the way she acted like a spoiled child, not getting her way. She had been excusably rude in the past, but this was going to be his last straw. As she tried to fight, she felt a sharp prick in her thigh.

"Shanel... dove sei.. where are you?" A familiar voice said.  Sat in the middle of the woods was Shanel, covered in blood. Butterflies flew past her, but each one was different.  "Where am I?" she asked, looking towards the sound of familiar footsteps. A hand covered her lips as another one grabbed her waist. As the grasp got tighter, she felt as if they'd rip her in two. Blood began to drip down her dress as she watched from afar two creatures feasting on what looked like her eight-year-old body. Standing there was a Wendigo and a Butterfly Moth creature eating away her eyeballs. 

"Help me! don't let them take me away HEL-"

Shanel jolted out the bed, her mouth dry and eyes wide. Her breathy was unsteady, and she knew why. "Vistaril.. nice.." she began getting drossy again as her head hit the pillow and into a slow thickness of blood. 

" Must I denounce myself as a monster while you still refuse to see the one growing inside you?" the familiar voice said, blood gushing into her lungs and out her mouth. In her hair even was blood but by her feet was the body of Albert and Christopher. Hannibal, who looked at her stone-cold, had in his hand a slaughter knife while the other reached out to grab her. "Well, must I... " he  asked, watching her  reach for the knife, 

" If I kill the rude. While another detests the righteous, what will you have left in my pantheon," he asked.

"The wicked.."

Another prick of pain hit her as she stood up, deep scars on her arm, as she laid there a bit. " Parasomnia.," he mumbled, realizing why she had has tended to squirm around whenever he'd leave her side while sleeping. "Someones up.."  he smiled, "And in time for dinner.," he added, handing her dress over to her. Though something confusing was going on in his heart every time he watched her struggle, it was a pain that made him want to hold her tell her everything would be alright, much like he wish he could with his sister Misha a stinging pain in his arm when it rains. Looking down at his feet, he saw trails of blood mostly from Shanel. Taking his finger to get a taste, he had noticed something different about the blood "Low in iron.. " he smiled to himself, "Perhaps I should fix things.." he then made his way into the bathroom. 

"Why did you do.." 

"To relax you, you went into hysterics  .." he walked closer towards her watching her body language, "It's nar-"

"I know what it is.. you wouldn't be the first to inject me." she rolled her eyes, feeling insecure about her response, "You would know that..." she got dressed, her eyes looking down and away from his. "I was happy once as a kid.. you know I wasn't always a psicopatica." she turned her back towards him, and he felt that pain again, but this time in his heart. The trust he had built was fading. He walked closer towards her trying to hold her hand.

"GET away from me!" she pushed him aside.

"I can't do that." he looked into her brown eyes seeing something he had never seen before reflecting at him. "And why can't you."

" Sometimes, I think of the sun and moon as lovers who rarely meet. Always chase and almost always miss one another." he smiled, helping her zip her dress,

 " But once in a while, they do catch up, and they kiss." he looked at her reflection. "And the world stands in awe of their eclipse." his voice went hoarse while his heart stung in a long-forgotten pain called love. Shanel turned to look at him catching his eyes for her own. She could see it in his eyes that cupid hit him in his murderous heart. " Say it.." she nearly whimpered, her eyes on his lips. 

"I love-"

"Dad... um, Mr. Lecter, the guests are arriving," Abigail mentioned. 

"We'll finish this later?" he looked over at Shanel, who gave him a sigh and a nod.

 Everyone who was anyone showed up at the luxurious dinner party. There wasn't a soul in there that Shanel didn't know except, of course, her parents. She and Hannibal had been socializing all night. It seemed like forever since she had even sat down. That, of course, was until Hannibal had gestured for everyone to migrate like birds to his set to theme beautifully Greek pantheon dining room. Shanel giggled a bit watching, as she noticed the details in Hannibal's food decor of pomegranates, hers having six seeds next to it. "Some say that this very feast is what Persephone didn't eat upon," Hannibal said, standing behind Shanel, his pitch-black suit matching her soft spring pink dress traced with roses in the fabric.

" The story of Hades and Persephone is one of the most well-known love stories in Greek mythology." he pulled out Shanel's chair, waiting for her to sit. "Hades, was known for rarely ever leaving the underworld," he laughed a bit. "But one of the few times he did, he came across Persephone, and he fell instantly in love." Hannibal kissed Shanel on the forehead, his hand resting on her shoulder. "  But Demeter would never allow her daughter to marry the god of the underworld." he then looked at Rosalina and Milo. 

"With each pomegranate seed, I proclaim my love to you." he smiled, holding out a box kneeling on one leg, "With this ring, I confess my dying need to l'amore della mia vita." he kissed her hand. 

"What do you choose, my pet," he asked.

Shanel looked around, her heart fluttering with many emotions eyes staring her down. Her mother and apparent father both looked at her as she looked at the ring. She could hear the mumbling going on from her mother.

"Yes."

[queenlifesupport]

Behind The Scenes (Ben! x Y/N)

@mhoodx “maybe something where ben has a crush on roger taylor’s daughter which is the reader ?”

WORD COUNT : 2,080

I really tried with this one, I’ve been writing so much I’m kind of tiring myself out so I’m very sorry if this lacks “umph”. But I do hope that someone enjoys this! Thank you for reading! Oh and I went through and edited it, I sadly might've missed a few, fair warning 

WARNINGS : Language and horrible writing :)

"Dad please just let me get to work." I shook my head slightly while laughing over the phone, this was a normal occurrence between us.

"Okay, okay, I'm glad you're doing this though Y/N. I'm really proud of you."

"Yeah, okay. I'll call you later?" He hummed in reply, then we both said our goodbyes. My dad was a little, what's the word, obsessed with me. But at least I knew he cared, he's definitely the best father I could ask for. I took in a nervous breath, taking a look in the mirror making sure I looked somewhat professional. I left the counter I stood in front of, making my way over to the production team, patiently waiting for what tasks I needed to finish.

"Y/N, they should be coming any minute, could you make sure all the dressings rooms are prepped along with the hair and makeup booth?" Someone in the group gave me the directions, I replied with a yes and then went off to do my duty. I enjoyed working here, a lot, I loved the studio, I loved the behind the scenes aspect, everything was so exciting to me although I had only started not long ago, and I needed something captivating. I quickly checked in all four rooms, closing the doors behind me and taking a look on my clipboard to make sure the outfit matched with the names written on the door. All seemed just fine. There was a sound of energetic attitudes in the main room, lasting for a few minutes while I stood by the marked off areas. Soon the chatter seemed to move down the hallway, only now revealing the source, the 4 main guys of the current Bohemian Rhapsody film. I’ve heard my father chat about them quite a lot so it felt as if this wasn’t my first time meeting all of them.

"Welcome! Each of your rooms has a name board on it, make yourself at home. I will be in shortly once everyone gets situated." I said with a bright smile while looking at each one of them. I knew everyone's name I just didn't have a face to put it to, but I did know 'Ben Hardy' would be playing my father. They all thanked me and entered the correct room while I stood outside distracting myself for 5 minutes. I knocked softly on the first door, Rami Malek, playing as the one and only Freddie Mercury. I heard a light come in, signaling me to open the door. "Good morning, Mr. Malek." I said as I shut the door.

"Good morning, Miss?" He waited to receive my last name.

"Taylor." I replied, setting down my clipboard on the red velvet couch cushion.

"Ah, Rogers daughter, got it - so what do we have today?" I walked him through the outfit, also helping him with some pieces he struggled with. At the end, he looked like Mercury's part in Break Free, but without the classic wig and makeup. "Perfect." He laughed while clapping his hands together at his reflection.

"I'll leave you alone, you can come and find me if something is wrong." And with that I left the room. I got myself prepared for the next room while scribbling down notes and marking off things on my to do list. To my favor, Ben Hardy was next in line, I was excited to finally meet the man who was playing as my dad. I gave the door a knock like the one before and anticipated an acknowledgement at the sound, the door opened while Ben stood there slightly confused. "Hardy?" I snickered lightly at his expression.

"I recognized you when I came in, do I know you from somewhere? I could never forget a face that beautiful" He inquired, looking me up and down,

"You probably do." I chuckled once again, entering the room. "You know my dad very well, in fact, you're playing him." A look of realization echoed on his face. I have to say, he's pretty attractive, but that's probably not the best thing to say about the guy who's acting as your father.

"I haven't seen you around much, and I'm quite surprised, I thought you'd be joining your father for some shoots." He made his way over to the lit up vanity, picking up a few stray pieces of paper, flipping through them.

"I've been away to Ohio, graduating from one of the many beauty schools in America. It's actually supposed to be the best there. I've been working here for about three weeks now" I said slightly softer than my sentence before, following after him to the mirror. He looked up at me through the cheval glass, catching my eyes. He had beautiful eyes, a gaze that made you desire to be unraveled in his mind, even a blink made your heart flutter.

"I assume thats why you're in the studio then? Finally able to work here?" He smiled softly, taking the side of his lip between his teeth.

"You got it right. Enough talking though - lets discuss the outfit and components." I conveyed as I escorted myself to the opposite end of the dressing room. Gently placing the materials over my arm, then shuffling back over to Ben. "The tights are easy, roll the whole leg down to where you'd put your foot in." I demonstrated the process by showing him how to roll them.

"Mhm..." He hummed, I looked over at him about to say another sentence but realized he was gawking at me.

"Are you even paying attention to anything I'm saying?" I let out a breathy laugh, more annoyed than amused. He yet again smiled while looking down, then shook his head as an answer. I went over the instructions again, forcing him to pay attention this time, once he understood everything I walked to the corner to direct my attention on the wall so he could change into the costume. After a few minutes he gave me approval for turning back around. The white button up was not buttoned up at all, along with not tucked into the black mini flare skirt, the rest seemed fine. I made my way over to him, so I could assist. "Can't you button your own shirt?" I asked, slightly frustrated while folding his collar.

"I mean - I can, but with a pretty thing like you, I'd rather you get it for me." He sure was flirty, and he had what seemed to be no shame. I attempted to roll my eyes with a mean look plastered on my face but failed, ending up still rolling my eyes but with a grin. "I saw that smile." He said with an achieved look playing upon his face. I started buttoning the shirt up, feeling his gaze directly on my face, I was too nervous to look up for I knew we'd lock eyes again.

"Tuck it in." I adjusted the tie and laid it down nicely, then taking a step back to give him space.

"I don't know how to." He said with a fake frown.

"Bye, Ben." I breathed out in my best 'sweet' voice, I didn’t want to deal with him acting stupid in order for me to help him.

"Bye, love." He marveled before tucking the shirt in.

I had helped all 4 men with their 'drag-ish’ costumes, now working as one of the two makeup artists, not having to do this all on my own, luckily. I set up my iPad on the white plastic makeup counter, I used the piece of equipment for notes, references, and scheduling, which helped me due to needing to pull up reference photos for each look. I felt my phone buzz in the pocket of my black apron, notifying me my father just got here, earlier he told me him and Brian would be coming to the studio to help direct some of the scenes and he would text me when he arrived. Soon natural light flooded the room, causing everyone to look over, the two of them entered, stopping to chat some with others. I went about my business, getting all my colors and brushes I needed all set out in an organized fashion. The only thing on the agenda was Joe and Rami, just as looking over the plan I directed my attention to the dressing room hall, watching all four members of the makeshift 'band' walk over to the two booths. I excused myself for a quick second, approaching my father and my non-blood related uncle, embracing both of them with a hug.

"I see you still haven't cut your hair!" I exclaimed to Brian, using my hand to scrunch it ever so lightly.

"I see you still can't shut up about my hair!" He beamed back, earning a laugh from all three of us.

"Well, if you follow me you two can help with the looks or just venture around the set." I reported, then listening to them debate on what to do, they decided to take a look around the studio. I happily walked back to my booth, inviting Joe to sit down in the black spiny chair. "You ready?" I asked him through our reflections.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

After an hour and a half of makeup + a wig, his look was complete, I was pretty proud of myself for I matched him completely to John Deacons original look. He admired himself in awe, then thanked me and walked off to go chat with Roger and Brian. I turned around to grab the disinfecting container for the brushes so I could soak all the used materials. I turned around to call out for Rami so we could get right onto it but I was quickly stopped.

"Ben, get out of the chair, you're with Mescelia." I rolled my eyes while crossing my arms. Both his hands held onto his phone while he focused his gaze down. "Hello? Hardy?" I waved my hand in front of the screen.

"No, you have me." He said lazily without looking up from his phone.

"Oh really? Let's see here." I sassily grabbed the iPad, going to my agenda, placing the technology in front of his face. His eyes slowly scanned it.

"Yeah, right there, Ben Hardy with attachment images." He looked up at me while reciting what was 'said' on the screen. I quickly flipped it over, letting myself see on my own.

"I swear it said Rami not even 2 hours ago."

"I guess someone changed it." He shrugged. It was him, that little fucker. I huffed, this guy was a real pain in my ass. I grabbed the wig from the other station, taking my time to put it on him where it would stay. Every time I looked at his reflection to see what I needed to adjust I always saw him looking at me through the mirror too. Once the wig was secured I added some light foundation for he didn’t need much, using a beauty blender to smooth out the application. I knew making this absolutely perfect would take some time.

Another 2 hours passed, leading me to the final finish, lipstick.

“I have to say, you make a beautiful woman.” I whispered slightly so only he heard me as I concentrated on shaping his lips.

“You’re a beautiful woman. Maybe let this beautiful woman take you out on a date? Beautiful woman to beautiful woman.” He said while barely moving his lips, I looked at him as he looked from my lips to my eyes.

“What happens if I say yes?” I questioned with a sly smirk. What was I even thinking, this guy was frustrating the hell out of me earlier.

“I’ll show you my tits.” He joked, letting out a small laugh.

“You aren’t afraid of what my dad would think?”

“Well are you?”

“I’m afraid for you.” I winked at him after taking the lipstick applicator off his lips.

“So is that a yes?” He asked after rubbing his now pink lips together.

“Let’s see how you do today and then I’ll answer the question.” I gave him a small smile as he stood up, using the arm chairs as support.

“I know it will be a yes.” He called out while strutting away. I rolled my eyes at his annoyingness, yet he was adorable at the same time, especially as a woman.

{TAG LIST // @michael-langdonahs }

MASTERLINK

[chaotic-good-hawke]

Gymnophoria - From Another Perspective

prompt originally from @that-cat-over-there from this post. (thank you again, friend!)

Part 1 can be found here. 

I was inspired to write the scenes from the other perspective. 

Link to work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16329293

Kirkwall, 9:31 Dragon

Marian Hawke downed her first shot of the night, feeling the cheap burn at the back of her throat.

The Hanged Man was filled with its usual crowd of miscreants and ruffians, the best of which were sitting with her at their usual spot. Varric sat at the head of the table with his legs crossed and set on the table, nursing his beer. Fenris was next to him and was reluctantly drinking along. Aveline had just arrived and took a seat next to Fenris, still in her city guard armor. Isabela was next to Hawke, already several shots in and in peak Isabela form.

Varric was shuffling the cards. They were going to play Wicked Grace once Carver arrived with Merrill (Maker, how did she manage to get so lost?) and Anders found his way from the clinic.

It promised to be a good night.

“Deal the cards, Varric!” Isabela exclaimed.

“Be patient, Rivaini, we will start when the whole crew is assembled.” Varric said, continuing to shuffle.

“I am bored! Someone distract me.”

“What do you want to do, Isabela?”

“Do you have to ask, Sweet thing? We could go back to my room and entertain ourselves.” Isabela said, trailing her finger along Hawke’s arm. Hawke laughed, but did consider it.

“Whore, do you ever stop?” Aveline asked.

“No.” Was all Fenris said.

“Spoilsport, Captain Manhands.” Isabela grumbled into her cup.

“How about a bet? There is a dart board over there.” Varric suggested.

“But no darts, Varric. And last time Corth yelled at us when you fired Bianca at the board from across the bar.” Hawke said. “We don’t want to get thrown out THIS early.”

The group went silent for a minute considering their options. “Well, how about this then. I bet you 50 silver that you can’t pick up someone from this bar.” Isabela suggested.

“I can do that easily, Bela.” Hawke said with confidence. “You’re on!”

“Hawke, are you really going to do this?” Aveline asked.

“Yes, Hawke, are you?” Fenris asked, with thinly veiled curiosity.

“Of course!” Hawke downed another shot. “Varric! You like me, right?”

“While I am flattered-”

“No, it can’t be someone you know, Hawke.” Isabela protested.

“You didn’t specify that!”

“Well I am now!”

“Fine!”

“Will you two please stop shouting?” Aveline asked, rubbing her temple. “Maker, why I associate with you…”

“You love it, Aveline.” Hawke said, then, turning back to Isabela. “Fine, someone I don’t know.”

Hawke surveyed the bar, trying to find a likely candidate. Most were drunks, or regulars, or regular drunks.

There has to be someone suitable here…

But then, Hawke spotted a perfect mark at the bar. He had golden hair, muscles, from the looks of it, and he definitely looked lonely.

“Him, I will pick that guy up, using my incredible skill and then you will owe me 50 silver.”

“Hey, I want in on this bet.” Varric said. “50 silver says Rivaini manages to steal him out from under you.”

“Varric! Have you no faith in me?” Hawke said, dramatically.

“I’ve seen you try to flirt, Hawke. It was sad.”

“That was for a job, this is entirely different.”

“Whatever you say, will you take that bet?”

“Yes! Just to spite you!” With that, Hawke waved Nora down and requested a drink be send over to the gentleman.

She waited for the drink to be delivered. When it was, she forced everyone to look away, to not make it obvious.

She looked across the bar at him and waved. He looked concerned or confused. Hawke elbowed Isabela. “See, already he is looking my way.”

“You do know how to pick them, Hawke. He looks very fit, indeed.” They took a moment to eye him, imagining how his obvious muscles looked underneath his clothing. The man looked away and downed his drink.

“Ah, getting his courage up?” Isabela purred.

“We shall see. Now is my chance.”

“Honestly, Hawke…” Aveline said, shaking her head.

Hawke rose from the bench and started towards the bar, with her best sashay. The man watched her. Suddenly, he rose from the stool, threw down some coins, and practically ran from the bar.

Hawke heard Varric laughing behind her.

“Sweet thing! You scared him off!” Isabela exclaimed and Hawke made her way back to the table. “I think that means I win.”

“No one is to mention any part of this to Carver.” Hawke said sulkily, handing over the coin to Isabela.

“Not a word, Hawke, not a word.” Varric said, still chortling.

Maker, I will never live this down.

Haven, 9:41 Dragon

Dorian strolled around the small village of Haven. It was quaint, in a Southern fashion. The villagers side-eyed him as he walked, whispering and gawking. You would think he was the Elder One the way they acted.

He heard the sound of clanging steel and wandered on down the steps through the gate. He found before him a glorious sight. The Commander was fighting another rather strapping fellow, both of them down to their shirts, which, sweat soaked as they were, left little to the imagination. Well, many people’s imaginations, Dorian found he could come up with a few things.

Their bout came to an end and the commander moved to a side bench, lifting a ladle of water. Some of the water trickled down his body.

Bless the Maker.

The commander turned and met his eyes. Dorian raised his brow and cocked his head to the side, giving the man a long look. The man in question looked down and, if his eyes were not deceiving him, the Commander was blushing.  

“You are looking quite intent about something, Dorian.” Lavellan said, stepping beside him. The Dalish mage had taken to him, after their jaunt to the future. She was one of the only ones to even treat him like a person in Haven.

“Just enjoying the wonderful view, darling.” Lavellan turned and seeing where his gaze fell, touched his arm lightly and started laughing.

“Oh, I see. Just enjoying the natural wonders of the South, huh?” She said, the laugh still in her voice. She looked towards the Commander and waved, a wide grin of mirth on her face. He gave a half-hearted wave back before turning and walking away.

“Ah, you scared him away!” Dorian complained.

Lavellan playfully slapped his arm. “I did not! It was probably your leering at him!”

“I was not leering! I was admiring!”

“Of course, dear Altus. Of course.”

Skyhold, 9:41 Dragon

Lavellan left the rotunda. She had just left a shocked and delighted Dorian on the second floor. He was the first one she told about her night. About her amazing night.

She was a cheerful person by nature, but even for her, she found herself grinning more than usual. As she greeted various people in the hall on her way to the war table, she found an extra bounce to her step and had to keep from outright whistling.

Cullen was cautious about a relationship. He was so adorably awkward and sweet at times. She understood that he was struggling with his lyrium withdrawals and that made him want to take things slow.

Lavellan had been fine with taking things slow. With the Inquisition, it was almost impossible to spend any time together, but they had made it work: a chess game here, a walk in the moonlit there. Then, last night, Cullen made a move, a much bolder move than she had been expecting.

Lavellan reached the door to the War Room and entered, hearing the now familiar creak of the hinges. She quickly looked to Cullen and she felt herself smiling again.

“Good afternoon, everyone! What’s on the agenda today?” She asked, looking to the other advisors.

“Ah, Inquisitor, yes, we have several Orlesian nobles visiting that wish an audience with you…”

Josephine and Leliana started detailing the meetings she would have throughout the days and the information she would need to talk to the nobles. Really, they were invaluable in that department.

“Lady Bellington can be a bit…verbose at times.” Josephine said.

Lavellan laughed at that, “Verbose? Why, Josephine, you never cease to amaze me with how you manage to make even the most awful nobles sound nice. I remember Lady Bellington from Val Royeaux and verbose is putting it mildly.”

Josephine and Leliana then started debating about whether Lavellan should speak to her alone or if they should have a messenger interrupt them.

Lavellan looked to Cullen and found his eyes intently on her. She ducked her head and felt a blush coming to her cheeks. He most certainly was not focusing on the meeting.

She met his gaze again and raised her eyebrow just so, before letting her eyes trail across his armored form, communicating that she was quite pleased with what she saw and what she knew was underneath all the armor.

“Commander?” Josephine asked. Lavellan started suddenly, straightening and refocusing.

“Yes, Josephine?” Cullen asked in reply.

“Did you have any suggestions to add?”

“No, I think you and Leliana have it well in hand.” He had recovered quickly, well done. Lavellan felt a smirk on her face.

“Excellent, Commander, now if we move on to this other matter…”

Lavellan focused on the meeting and took some notes on her upcoming meetings, but she did notice that Cullen was pointedly not looking her way.

Poor man, I am so very distracting.

The meeting came to a close and Leliana and Josephine left, talking about some recent gossip. Lavellan leaned against the doorframe and waited for Cullen to leave. He finished gathering his notes and looked up at her. He instantly smiled at her and Lavellan couldn’t help returning it.

How can one man do this to me?

As they left the room, Lavellan took his hand in hers and gently tugged him down to her. She had a wicked glint in her eye and she whispered into his ear, “Tonight, you can undress me for real, not just with your eyes, Cullen.”

She saw him freeze, her words taking hold.

Oh, yes. I have plans for you tonight. She thought, pulling the still dazed Commander through the hall.

[delirioussirius]

Back again

In the Department of Mysteries in Harry’s fifth year, when coming to aid his godson in the battle against the Death Eaters, Sirius gets knocked down unconcious. When he wakes up, the Ministry officials have appeared and they assume Sirius was there to fight for the Dark Lord. Naturally, they arrest him immediately. And since they need a trophy after this disastrous incident, they decide to give him the Dementor’s Kiss soon after. After spending some time in Azkaban re-living his old nightmares, he gets a visitor. 

The sound of footsteps approaching woke him up from a light doze. Yes, food! he thought, since food was always brought by a human - contrary to two years ago, when dementors were the only guards in the prison (maybe they didn’t completely trust them anymore) - and dementors didn’t have footsteps. But when he sat himself up in his tiny prison cell and listened more closely, he identified two sets of footsteps. Maybe even more. Sirius guessed the delivery of a large banquet probably wouldn’t be the case - unfortunately - so something else must be going on. Maybe a new prisoner? Or were they letting someone out? ‘Cell 311, sir,’ a young squeeky voice said down the hallway. It was the young guard that had brought him food the day before. He was accompanied by someone who only responded with a muffled “Hm”. Sirius moved his head closer to the bars of his cell to try and see who was doing them a pleasure of visiting. “Them” meaning the prisoners, who generally preferred a visit from any human life form with a sane mind gladly over the soul sucking creatures who usually visited them. Ministry people visiting usually meant the dementors would be gone for a while, which was always a pleasant change. In front of Sirius’ cell bars appeared a small group of wizards. Dorian was accompanied by a very familiar face; Cornelius Fudge. With him were three very tall and broad looking men, carrying their wands in a defensive manner, and some pencil pusher carrying a clipboard. Something serious was happening here, that was for sure. Somewhat to Sirius’ surprise the guard, Fudge, and his four men army halted at his cell. Apparently he was the one in cell number 311? Sirius had never bothered to take a look at his cell number. Being a number himself had been bad enough. What was the Minister for Magic doing here? It wasn’t friday already, wasn’t it? Had he miscalculated the days? (The day of his execution would really be the worst deadline ever to misplace in his agenda.) ‘Merlins beard, we can’t show him to the public like this,’ Fudge said with a look of repulsion on his face. ‘We’ll have to clean him up in London.’  ‘I agree, sir,’ the pencil pusher replied, making a note of it. What, London? What was he talking about? Why would he have to be cleaned up and moved to London? Then it dawned upon him: they were going to make this a public thing… ‘Are you giving me my own show, Cornelius?’ Sirius said teasingly but sharply, his voice coarse from not speaking for such a long time. The young guard made a little startled movement, as if scared by the sudden noise from the cell that had been silent most of his shifts. Fudge seemed a little taken aback too, but quickly got himself together and faced Sirius with an unpleasant political smile. ‘Ah, I see you are as attentive as usual, Black,’ he responded. ‘Well, let us just say you might be what the public needs right now. Your death I mean, of course.’ So that was their play. A public execution to show the wizarding community what a great minister Fudge was. ‘And I guess you want me to look extra nice for “the people”, right? Wouldn’t want anyone to suspect anything about how you run this place, wouldn’t you?’ Sirius replied, sitting himself a bit more upright against the wall. Fudge didn’t respond to Sirius’ question, but turned towards the guard: ‘Make sure he is ready for transportation in fifteen minutes.’ And then to the pencil pusher: ‘See to it that you make note of everything that happens.’ He paused for a second. ‘Everything we would like the people to know.’ Fudge gave Sirius one last demeaning look and then vanished into the hallway, leaving his people behind. 

‘So, what are your plans concerning transportation?’ the young guard asked the group of armed aurors hesitantly. ‘Broom,’ one of the aurors answered. ‘Williamson will take the prisoner and we’ll form a convoy. We’ve taken the appropriate measures.’ Measures Sirius obviously wasn’t supposed to know. But now he did know he had to survive a broomflight over the North Sea that probably would last several hours. He knew that was the regular way to visit the prison, since the place was unplottable and not connected to the floo network. But Sirius had hoped he could have travelled by apparition. Well, maybe he would just fall of his broom and have an easy death. It sure would beat being publicly robbed of his soul at the Ministry. His cell door opened and the three men entered the small space in which he had been living the past few months. They grabbed him by his skinny arms and dragged him up. He’d been fasting the past weeks, trying to get thin enough to squeeze himself through the bars of his cell. He realised he really was an idiot sometimes. His legs could barely hold his own weight anymore. ‘Just… Be careful,’ the young guard said. ‘He hasn’t eaten in about a week. I don’t know how well he would survive such a long flight.’ Sirius didn’t know if the boy was actually being concerned with his welfare or if he was just afraid of what Fudge might do if his trophy would die on the way to the exposition. Either way, the aurors seemed to agree with the young guard and loosened their firm grip on his arms a bit. Unfortunately they still made him wear those awful heavy shackles around his wrists. They left the cell, dragging Sirius with them, and left the young guard behind. Sirius gave the boy one last glance and then just let his head hang. So this was it. He was either going to die of exhaustion on his way to London or have his soul sucked out on arrival. Neither was anything he would want. He wanted a warm bed. Some food. Someone to tell him it would be alright. Someone to tell him he was safe and he’d never have to be locked up again. Anywhere. Ever. Even though they’d left the area where the dementor’s roamed, Sirius still felt empty inside. Almost numb, if it wasn’t for the gnawing feeling in his stomach and the heavy irons cutting his wrists. They entered a room with almost no furniture, apart from a rack with several broomsticks on it, all marked with the Ministry’s logo. They were all secured to the rack with chains, so no escaped prisoner could grab one and take off with it. Every auror took a broom and unchained it with their wands. Then Sirius was set upon a broom which had two seats; his seat facing backwards. They shackled his feet now too, and tied the chains firmly to the broom using a binding spell. ‘Why do you even bother?’ Sirius asked. ‘It’s not like I can run off or something. I might fall of though.’ He mustered up a grin, but the aurors only responded by putting a linen bag over his head. Great, now he wouldn’t even be able to enjoy the ocean view. When in the air, a cold wind gave Sirius’ skin a burning sensation. But nevertheless, he could still feel that the sun was shining, even though he could not see a thing. Being sat backwards on the broom, he was able to rest his back against the back of the auror riding the broom. The chap sure didn’t like it; he tried to push Sirius away a few times. But eventually he gave up and just let his prisoner enjoy a semi-comfortable backrest. Sirius had never known how long the flight from Azkaban to main land had taken - technically he’d only ever flown the other way, two times - but it felt like hours. Being away from all the dementors and the constant reminder of his false imprisonment he was able to feel a tiny bit of hope. Hope that maybe the aurors were new members of the Order he hadn’t met yet and they were flying him to the Burrow. Hope that maybe Moody, Tonks and Remus would come to rescue him in mid-air. But no such thing happened, and eventually all hope faded again when he heard the sound of the city and then felt solid terrain beneath his shackled feet. It was nice to hear clear human voices again though. Even when they were shouting orders like “tighten those chains, I don’t want him escaping again” and “Gallopin’ gorgons, he smells terrible. Did you have to put up with that the whole journey?”. Yeah, because a bad smell was so much worse than being wrongfully imprisoned, being held in the worst place on earth for the second time in a lifetime and having your soul sucked out in only two days. But of course they didn’t know they were doing this to an innocent man. Or they just didn’t want to know. ‘Get him inside,’ the voice who’d been complaining about the smell said. ‘And don’t take off the bag until I’ve joined you.’ He was being grabbed by his arms again and guided to another location. Some secret Ministry building, he guessed by the long way he had to walk and the many stairs they had to take. Every once in a while the sound of a lock opening and then closing again sounded. And then Sirius was pushed into a hard wooden chair of some sorts. His shackles were removed, but quickly replaced by manacles that kept his arms and feet tight against the chair. He sat there for a few minutes. Maybe alone, maybe with some very stealthy aurors guarding him. He didn’t know, because that bloody itching bag was still over his head. He wanted to say something witty to evoke a response from any possible life forms that were with him, but he couldn’t come up with anything to say. So he just kept silent until eventually a voice called his name. 

‘Sirius Black,’ it said. ‘I expected you to be… well, more. There’s hardly anything of you left. But I’m here to fix that. Let’s see what we’ve got.’ Footsteps sounded and in a swift movement the bag covering his head was pulled away. The sudden light blinded his eyes and for a moment he could only see light and dark shapes floating around him. Slowly things became clearer: He was in a room made of stone with no windows. Surrounding him were three guards that didn’t seem familiar. And in front of him stood a tall and skinny man with short blonde hair, wearing light grey robes. He wasn’t a guard for sure, but not an official of great significance either. Or Sirius would probably have recognised him. ‘So you’re here to make me pretty?’ Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘Good luck with that.’ The man laughed with a shrill, high pitched voice. ‘Oh no, not pretty. I’m here to make you look like you’ve suffered just enough but are still a very dangerous man. The suffering part you did great on yourself,’ he said, pinching in one of Sirius’ cheeks as if he was a fat aunt measuring his cuteness. ‘But you don’t look very dangerous anymore. It’s a shame.’ He supposed he didn’t look very dangerous indeed. He had never considered himself to look dangerous. Angry maybe. But he had every right to be. Now he just felt tired. And probably looked that way too. With a whip of his wand, the man changed Sirius’ ragged old prison robes to a set of slightly newer ones, but darker in colour. The man mumbled something and Sirius felt his cheeks glow a bit. Apparently rosy cheeks were the new dangerous? Or maybe it was just to make it look like he was more alive than he actually was. Then the man started tucking on his hair. It was like he was going to a beauty salon. A very uncomfortable beauty salon, though. But that was kind of how Sirius had always imagined beauty salons to be. Suddenly there was a short knock on the heavily guarded door and a moment later it swung open, revealing Fudge who had been standing behind it. ‘Ah, I see you have already started. Excellent. Just make sure all the spells last until friday,’ Fudge said to the beautician chap, who seemed now to be examining the tattoo’s and scars on Sirius’ upper body. ‘Yes, of course Minister,’ the blonde man replied with an almost slimy voice. The beautician was clearly an arse-kisser.  ‘I assume everything else has been arranged?’ Fudge continued, looking at the guards. They nodded and answered with a “yes sir”. ‘Good, good…’ the Minister said, while inspecting Sirius with his gaze. ‘I’ll see you friday, then,’ he then said, turning to the beautician. He then walked back towards the door, straightening his jacket. When stepping over the doorstep, he suddenly stopped as he had forgotten something. As he had turned around again he took a quick look at Sirius’ head and then said: ‘Oh, and could you cut his hair? I’d like for everyone to see his face when it happens.’ The bastard. Like he hadn’t taken enough from him yet. As Fudge closed the door behind him, Sirius clenched his fists in anger. He wasn’t very vain when it came to his looks - he had had the luck to be quite handsome when he’d been younger - but his hair was something he had always liked about himself. Maybe because not every boy or man could pull off longer hair like he could. Maybe because it showed he wasn’t someone you could just dress up and cut like everyone else. Or maybe because it was very convenient when he wanted to hide his face from the world when he was angry or sad. Either way, it was his hair, and Fudge shouldn’t have any say in it with what haircut he was going to leave this world. But apparently he did. And apparently it was going to be short. And short it was. About fifteen minutes later Sirius was alone in a dark cell with only an inch or so of hair left on his head. They had given him a meal and he had gobbled it down like a hungry stray dog. (Technically he actually was a hungry stray dog.) He hadn’t seen daylight in quite some time and there was no clock in here, so he didn’t have a clue how many hours there were left in the day. Nor how many hours he had left in his life. He would have liked to spend his last hours somewhere in the warm sun or at night by a fire, drinking a butterbeer with the people he loved. (Or even better, drinking an actual beer with the people he loved.) Thinking about Harry, Remus and Tonks and the little kid they were going to have, he also started thinking about what he would leave them with when he was gone. They could have Grimmauld place if they wanted, if it was still any use. And Sirius hoped he had given Harry some valuable life lessons to remember him by. (Like: “it’s not breaking the rules if you don’t get caught” and “you can always bribe Remus with 80% dark chocolate”.) As for Remus, he would be giving him a peaceful life with Tonks and their baby. No more annoying Padfoot having a potential bad influence on their offspring, no more whining about being cooped up in the Order’s headquarters. Because even though they had been very best friends throughout their lives, Sirius had to admit that he himself had been quite a pain in the arse sometimes. He just couldn’t help himself. That’s probably why he ended up being single, instead of being with the one he always considered his best relationship option. And it was probably why he was here in this cell, waiting to have his soul sucked out. In the end, all he would leave his loved ones was an empty shell that was once his body. And it wouldn’t even have nice hair.

Thank you for reading! It really means a lot. It’s been a few years since my last fanfic. And this is actually a modified post I wrote for a HP RPG. (In the RPG, Sirius is arrested and imprisoned at the Department of Mysteries, instead of dying like in the books. While he is in Azkaban, Tonks dies in a mission for the Order, not long after giving birth to Teddy. Remus is knocked into a coma at the same mission, making Sirius the acting parent for Teddy. But since he isn’t really in a position to care for an infant - being in prison and all - Harry is the next in line as a godfather. We’re playing the story out from there, the excerpt above being a (modified) post I wrote not too long ago.  I hope it’s not too confusing! And I especially hope you enjoyed reading it :) 

[kuriquinn]

Gal Friday [3/?]

First Page & Disclaimer

After ending the first call of the morning, Sasuke feels a little more like himself.

The pulsing headache is still there, but the caffeine has helped and he feels a little less punch drunk. Deciding he no longer intends to simply react to his day as it happens – or certain pink-haired dynamos – he logs onto his computer and begins to check his email.

It is not surprising in the least that the first one to show up in his unread messages comes from the aforementioned individual. Neither is the fact she has his email at all, despite him not being listed.

Clicking it open, he skims the – admittedly impressive – CV, barely glances at the attached cover letter and begins to open the other attachments. Letters of references, it seems. She hasn’t indicated who they are from, and it’s only by opening each one individually that he gets a clue.

With every click of the mouse, his eyebrows rise a little higher, until the last one prompts him to grab his phone and punch in a number from memory.

There are two rings – she always picks up on the second ring – and then a familiar voice answers without even a greeting, “Make it fast, I have a meeting with Kenzo in ten.”

Yamanaka Ino could make Anna Wintour seem cuddly by comparison. Having met both women before, Sasuke is only slightly more comfortable with Ino because they were once involved. That relationship was short-lived, given they both have a competitive nature and a need to be in control. In the end, they came to a mutual agreement that she would be better suited to someone of a more…malleable personality.  

They still have relationship of sorts, however, and he feels no societal pressure to be polite when speaking to her.

“Senju International I can understand,” he tells her apropos of nothing, “they’re a big name in medicine. So is Nohara Scientific. So why exactly does Haruno Sakura think I’ll be impressed that she was the personal assistant to the editor-in-chief of some fashion magazine?”

“Oh, Sasuke-kun, as if you didn’t know the answer to that,” Ino purrs.

“Don’t be so familiar.”

“I’ve seen you naked. I can be as familiar as I want.”

“Your husband might take issue with that.”

“My husband would watch and take pictures.”

Sasuke shudders. That’s exactly the type of thing Sai would so.

Artistic types creep him out.

“You never write letters of reference,” he tells her. “Not unless there’s something in it for you, or unless you’re trying to sabotage a competitor. So unless she brought you in a multi-million-dollar client or single-handedly saved your business from collapse, why do you endorse her?”

“You didn’t even read her cover letter, did you?”

“I never read those. It’s a waste of time, and mostly they’re pure lip service anyhow. That’s why I’m calling you,” he tells her, rolling his eyes impatiently. “How did a woman whose interest is apparently in the field of medicine end up in the world of overpriced shoes and ridiculous hair pieces, with you willing to speak for her?”

“They’re called fascinators, you uncultured swine, and for your information, there’s no agenda here. I simply decided to hire the ugly girl for once and hope she was more confident than the usual empty-headed fashionistas that froth at the mouth whenever I offer an internship,” Ino sniffs. Sasuke shakes his head. He will never understand fashion – or women – because to his eyes, Sakura is far from ugly. “When it came time to part ways, she impressed me enough to merit a reference. Simple as that.”

 “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t call me to answer that question, and you know it. She’s clearly impressed you already.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m impressed or not – corporate is different from that rag of yours. It takes a certain type of person.”

“Haruno Sakura is the most stubborn, forward-thinking and competent assistant I’ve ever had, despite the mutant forehead,” Ino informs him. “And you would be a fool if you let someone else snatch her up.”

“Hm.” Sasuke nods. “That sounds a lot more like you than this bullshit letter you wrote about her.”

“Ah, so that’s the reason you called,” Ino simpers. “You just wanted to hear me say it in person? Oh, I knew you missed me.”

“I never said that.”

“Please, you call me up just to check a reference? That’s not your style, Sasuke-kun.”

“Stop being so familiar.”

“And you stop being so dishonest,” she lectures him. “Now, what else do you want? My driver is going to have to break several speeding laws as it is for me to be fashionably late…”

“Tell me why she’s no longer working for you – especially if she was such a jewel in the eye of your organization.”

“She has a plan that doesn’t involve fashion and I saw no way to convince her otherwise. It happens.”

“You never give up that easy. You’ve ruined careers for less than someone trying to strike out on their own.”

“And you used to be a man of few words, yet here you are grilling me about a woman that I bet is already sitting in the desk outside your office dealing with your paperwork,” Ino muses. “You sound…dare I say it…intrigued.”

He frowns. “You always did read into things that weren’t there.”

“And you are the king of denial,” she sighs. There’s a pause, and he can almost picture her shifting out of her waspish, fashionista exterior. “Business and personal matters need to be kept separate, darling. And at the end of the day, I decided I preferred keeping a good friend instead of entrapping the best personal assistant. The former is so rare in the world we inhabit, don’t you agree?”

Sasuke actually pulls away from the phone to glare at it.

“Now, now, don’t make that face,” he hears the distant, tinny voice say. “You know I’m right, as usual. And I really have to go now. We should catch up some time – meet for coffee. Get Forehead to schedule it for us one day – buh-bye!”

Click.

Sasuke holds the phone against his ears for several seconds, trying to parse what Ino just said. Although he’s gotten the information he wanted, he feels unsettled, as if two conversations were just happening at once and he was only party to one.

And he still hasn’t come to a concrete decision about Sakura.

On the one hand, if she’s practically hired herself – convenient, if a little presumptuous. On the other hand, if she ends up not working out, he’ll have to go through the whole interview process for another contender anyhow.

Luckily for him, fate chooses that moment to intervene.

Sasuke hears him before he sees him.

The exuberant ball of energy that is Uzumaki Naruto, loudly joking and laughing his way through the hallways. As he strides into the waiting area, Sasuke quickly grabs his phone and cradles it against his shoulder, typing nonsense onto the screen of his computer. Looking busy hasn’t been known to stop the blond man from disturbing him, but it’s all Sasuke can manage on such short notice.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sasuke watches to see how Sakura will deal with this new development. Just as discreetly, he

“Hey Tayuya, I’ve got to just duck in here and – whoa. You’re not Tayuya.”

“Keen eyesight,” Sakura says. Both their voices are somewhat dulled through the glass separating Sasuke’s office from the outside world. “I’m Haruno Sakura.”

“Nice to meet you, Sakura-chan – Listen, I won’t bother you, I’m just going to slip in here and –”

“You don’t have appointment,” Sakura tells him.

“Sure I do,” Naruto says, smiling at her with his usual charm.  

“No, you don’t. See, I spent my morning meticulously organizing this schedule for optimal efficiency instead of enjoying my soy caramel latte with whipped cream while contemplating the universe,” Sakura explains cheerfully, “and nowhere did I see the name Uzumaki Naruto. Ergo, no appointment – though, I can pencil you in two weeks from Thursday.”

“No, but you see, it’s sort of a standing appointment, and – hey, wait – you know who I am?”

Sakura sighs through her nose, her eyes flick up at him and she says, “Ramen stain on your tie, your voice could probably break the sound barrier and you’re wearing the same Ralph Lauren suit you did when you defended the company in the defamation case two years ago, I remember seeing it on TV. Obviously I know who you are.”

“Wow – you are so much smarter than the last one,” Naruto says, impressed.

“Obviously.”

“Which means you’re probably a flexible thinker and can wrap your head around unofficial rules,” Naruto points out. “And Sasuke always lets me jump the queue. Perks of being BFFs.”

Sasuke’s eye twitches and he has to hold back from getting up and shoving Naruto’s head through a wall.

That would probably expose him as an eavesdropper.

“Maybe he did before, but now that I’m here, we follow his schedule,” Sakura replies pleasantly, a smile on her face but a warning edge in her voice. “If we didn’t, chaos would ensue and possibly the end of civilization as we know it.”

“Wow, dramatic much?” Naruto teases.

Sakura raises one eyebrow at him.

And then, to Naruto’s (and Sasuke’s) shock, suddenly bursts into tears.

“It’s my first day!” she sobs. “And you’re going to get me fired…because you know how he is…and all…all I want to do is a good job, and you’re…just…you’re so hurtful –!”

Naruto turns pale and jumps back a pace.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa – hold on, don’t – Jesus, are you actually crying?” he demands, his voice going high-pitched and creaky. He looks around quickly as if to see if anyone is watching, then lowers his voice into a placating whisper. “Listen, listen – I’ll make an appointment, okay? Just…put me in the next available slot and I’ll come back, I swear – no need to go crying at me, okay? I hate it when girls cry.” He reaches over her desk to grab a tissue and hands it to her as she hiccups.  “When is it?”

Sakura’s head snaps up and her shoulders straighten. “Two weeks from Thursday.”

Her voice is utterly controlled now, and despite the single tear running down her cheeks, she beams up at Naruto.

Son of a bitch, Sasuke thinks, not sure if he is impressed or appalled.

Naruto gapes for several seconds, clearly trying to process, and then a huge grin breaks out onto his face. “Oh, you’re evil. We’re going to be friends.”

“I think so, too,” Sakura replies warmly.

“So, I’ll just…” he begins to edge toward Sasuke’s office.

“Come back during your allotted time,” Sakura finished.

“But I –”

“Are you not a man of your word?” Sakura asks, blinking up at him with those beguiling green eyes of hers.

“I…” Naruto swallows. Then he shakes his head. “Damn.”

He turns and walks away, looking more than a little shell-shocked.

Sasuke snorts.

Far be it from me to judge someone for using other people’s weaknesses against them…

His intercom beeps and he clicks the button. “Yes?”

“Size six, Louis Vuitton. No stilettos and you can never go wrong with black,” Sakura tells him.

Sasuke blinks at this. “What?”

“Nothing. Just a hint,” she replies innocently. “For when it comes around to bonus time, you know?”

“Go back to work, Sakura.”

It takes him almost an hour before he realises the ease with which her first name rolled of his tongue.

つづく

Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, if you are in a supportive mood, I have a tip jar through ko-fi located at the top of the page! Thanks for your interest in my work!

クリ

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