#(should be noted I am choosing to attempt this a fourth time instead of working on a crochet project my s-i-l specifically requested)

[cultivating-wildflowers]

I have decided to start this crochet project over for the fourth time.

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Thank You For Your Service IV (M)

Thank you @7stars-aligned13 for the beautiful mood board!!  Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: smut, angst, fluff Warnings: mentions of trouble conceiving, lots of time skips, squirting, face fucking, dom!Jimin, slight role play, impreg kink, dirty talk, fingering, cream pie Word Count: 24,500

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

You hiccup, already crying fat tears before you’ve even heard the news. You fear those words, feel the emptiness, and it hurts your soul. The straight faced doctor takes her time coming into your room, letting out a sigh once she sees your face. It’s from exasperation, but you would like to interpret it as sympathy. She stands at the foot of your bed, waiting until you calm your breathing enough to hear her.

“As I am sure you have guessed, you are not with child.” Those words break your heart for the sixth time and you break down into sobs, hiding your face in Jimin’s pillows.

Six months. It has been six long months since you were wed and you still are not pregnant. Even after all those late nights, early mornings when you’d send the servants away before your schedules began, the remedies and special foods, the slightly uncomfortable positions and pillow mountains, you still are not yet carrying your husband’s child. And it crushes you.

Yes, you know having children is not all you are good for, but it is one of your duties as a Queen. Having heirs is something that only you can do and the entire kingdom awaits expectantly for the news of an incoming prince or princess that they can idolize and adore, so you feel the pressure at all times of day— as well as guilt in regards to your barren womb. You should be fertile at this youthful time in your life. Both you and Jimin have passed every physical examination and remain in excellent health, which is why it is so perplexing to you that you are having trouble conceiving. Rosé, Queen of the kingdom just north of yours, is already pregnant and she was wed to her husband an entire month after you. Twins, you hear she’s having. You’d hate to fall behind her kingdom in any aspect, even in such a trivial competition as having children. She has nothing to do with your family, and yet, you still feel so inferior because you do not yet have one.

“To put it bluntly,” Your doctor begins, looking down at the paper she’s holding, scribbled with notes. “I believe the cause of your current condition— or lack thereof— is due to the poisoning you endured several months ago. It is possible that the potion affected your reproductive organs in some imperceptible way; your kidneys exhibited symptoms of its effects for nearly a month after your recovery, so we cannot completely rule out this possibility. But, Your Highness, the only way I would be able to test this hypothesis is through surgery to visually inspect your organs.”

You shudder at the thought of being cut open, shaking your head animatedly. Maybe you would consider this “inspection” after a year of effort and failure, but you would not take such drastic measures this early. No matter how much the constant failure hurt.

“If my infertility is due to the poison-“ You swallow thickly when your voice comes out as a mere whimper.

“Let us not be so hasty in calling it infertility, Your Majesty.” She interrupts, stare lightening just slightly. She’s learned the tiniest bit of respect since working under Jimin, his low tolerance for rudeness and spiny disposition during medical examinations slowly beginning to unnerve her cold discourse. Many a time has he reprimanded her for speaking to you informally or for her lack of sympathy, and you are finally starting to see a change, though she still interrupts you to interject.

“If my current inability to conceive is because of the poison,” You try again, “Are there any elixirs or pills I could take to lessen its effects? There must be something!”

“Because we do not know entirely if this is due to the poison, I am hesitant to give you treatment— sometimes getting pregnant is difficult for some people and there is nothing medically wrong with them. For now I can only give you advice on conception: try to lower your stress levels, eat more fruits and vegetables for vitamins, and do not over exert yourself. That is all for today, I will be back in a month for your regular check up unless I am needed sooner.” With that she turns and leaves, not waiting to be dismissed and leaving you alone in your room.

It is the middle of winter and the bone-chilling winds whip against your windows. The palace is heated by fire, but you refuse to light your fireplace, choosing to sit and suffer in the cold alone as you wallow in your gloom. Jimin has been busy all day with kingdom affairs, out and about performing duties that not even your father cared enough to get done. The people love him, love how involved he is and how much he cares, and they never hesitate to alert him to any problems they might have that Jimin could take care of. Of course he doesn’t mind, you knew he would never be able to stay inside these sheltered walls for long when he was so used to the excitement of training and battle, but you wished he would spare a little time to cater to your issues. His absence during your monthly checkups is not unusual. For the first three he held your hand and sat with you, on the fourth he left in the middle due to an urgent matter, and these last two he has been out of the castle altogether. Since your third appointment, when your hopes of being pregnant were at its highest, he seemed to have a very negative attitude toward your checkups. He told you he did not intentionally avoid these meetings, and you think that is partly true, but you know that he must hate the constant rejection and is deliberately making himself unavailable when he thinks you will be rejected again. He would much rather hear the bad news from you instead of your cold doctor.

When you asked your father to accompany you, he sort of grimaced and then politely declined. You understand, the thought of addressing the fact that your daughter has not only been deflowered, but is being repeatedly taken in the efforts of bearing fruit is sickening to you, too. Also, he is not very adept at comforting you when you break down like this, face buried in your husband’s pillows and shoulders shaking with sobs.

Telling by the ache in your skull and the completely soaked through cushion beneath your head, a long time has passed by the time you finally raise your face at the sound of Jimin shuffling into your bedroom. He shivers once the door is closed again, expecting warmth but being met with bitterness.

“It is freezing in here.” He rasps beneath his breath, ignoring you momentarily to light the fireplace, moving to shed the outer layers of his clothing once the fire is of decent size. The single glance he took at you upon entering is all he needed to know what has transpired, and he is in no rush to hear the devastating words. It’s only until he is in comfortable attire that he turns to face you, easing your head onto his chest with a curled bottom lip before he’s even settled properly on the mattress. “My love...”

Your tears flow freely onto his chest and he says nothing, sighing into your hair because by now this has become a common occurrence.

“She said it might be,” You snivel, “because of the poison.” He closes his eyes, having suspected the same thing but praying that it was not true. He wondered if the poison would have any long lasting effects on you, or on your future offspring, but dismissed the thought immediately. Although he knows nothing of what the doctor has said, he feels discouraged nonetheless. His past failure to protect you continues to circle around his head like a vulture, tormenting him to no end and making its appearance to pick at his wounds whenever he starts to move on from it. Six months feels like a long time, but it is apparent that his emotional scars need far longer to fully heal. And for that he owes to Jinwoo.

“I am s-sorry for being s-so weak.” You wipe your nose, face red and puffy from both tears and embarrassment. “Half a year ago you had not yet seen me shed tears, and now...” Almost as if the word itself had summoned them, fresh droplets fall from your eyes, looking pitifully up at the man who had stolen your heart. Only, he must have given it back to you at some point because you feel too much these days and you are tired of hurting like this. God, you probably look so ugly right now, you can feel how swollen and red your eyes and cheeks are, your self confidence plummeting to an all-time low.

“You are beautiful and strong, (Y/n), do not ever think less of yourself. You have good reason to feel the way you do, please do not think that you have to be stoic in front of me.” Like always, Jimin says exactly the right thing to ease your mind, using his hand to wipe your wet face and burrowing into the sheets with you attached to his side, his heat warming the icy sheets that drowned you when you had been alone.

You retired to bed early last night, which is why you can afford to wake up with the sun this morning. Jimin sleeps soundly behind you, but his presence is felt stiffly on your ass between the thin layers of clothing. Snow twinkles on your windowsill, probably the last snow of the season, but you find the sun beaming as brightly as ever to illuminate the room. With the weather beginning to warm in preparation for spring, you’ve grown accustomed to the gentle sound of melting snow dripping outside your window. Mornings like these are scarce and you plan to make the most of it.

You attempt to turn and face your beloved, but his arms tighten around your waist, locking you in your position. A sleepy groan tickles your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver through you.

“You’re up early.” Jimin mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His voice is always so deep and raspy in the mornings, his dialect coming forth with a yawn. You could listen to him speak like that forever, but all you can think about at the moment is how good his moans would sound with the added rumble of bass that comes from sleep.

“So are you.” You snort with a sly wiggle of your hips. The twitch of his length against you sends a flash of exhilaration through your system— time has been short lately and it has been far too long since you’ve last felt him. Apparently he feels the same way, his hand effortlessly gliding up your rib cage to palm at your clothed breast with a deep sigh. You can tell his eyes are still closed due to the laziness of his movements, but it doesn’t matter when his tender touches set your body on fire like this.

His lips find their way to your neck as he shifts closer, kissing and sucking gently enough not to leave marks but to get your heart racing with need. “Take this off.” You follow his instructions and promptly shed the nightgown from your body, leaving you nude against him as he presses himself to you once again, this time slipping a hand between your legs. Your nipples harden from the brief chill of the room before you adjust the covers over your shoulder again, and Jimin takes advantage of this with two fingers, twisting the bud between them to send a spike of pleasure down your spine.

You muffle a groan once his fingers begin to tease at your lower lips, spreading them and toying with the outer skin just to build your anticipation. He wants you to drip before he’s even touched you properly, to whimper into the sheets until you can’t take it anymore and call out his name in frustration. Your clit gets pinched between his fingers when he squeezes them closed, trapping the bud as he continues to rub you up and down, and you find yourself panting in a matter of seconds. Soon, his fingers start to get coated in the essence that seeps from you. It’s so sexy that he can barely stand it. Jimin loves to feel your warm juices trickling out of you, working you up almost feels better than tending to himself, and his breathing hitches too when you begin to wiggle in his grasp.

“Look at my gorgeous Queen, getting soaking wet from just a few light touches. So cock hungry this early in the morning.” His words make you quiver and whine, the teasing quality of his voice right up against the shell of your ear driving you absolutely insane. “I’ll give you what you want if you tell me~” You hadn’t expected him to be so playful after just waking up, but it’s a pleasant surprise.

“I want you to make me cum,” You breathe out between pants. “Then I want you to pump me full of your seed. Please, My King.” Your words have their own special effect on him, evident by the lustful groan he releases into your hair and how his hips subtly shift behind you. Immediately, his fingers move to your clit to lightly graze over the hood until you buck into him, only then does he add pressure. Your back arches into his palm as he continues to play with your nipple, having turned his attention to the other in order to provide the same treatment, pulling and tweaking at it, working the nerves until they’re raw and sensitive enough to have you gasping with every flick.

Jimin doesn’t need to be able to see you in your entirety to know how you look right now. You’re completely helpless to his touch, he can feel you writhing against him and heating up the space between the sheets as your temperature rises. He can feel your heart beating hard against your chest— and he wonders if you can feel his from his position pressed against your back. It has been a while since he’s allowed himself to indulge in these fantasies. He’s pleased to know that he still has every inch of you committed to memory and is able to so easily have you at his fingertips, quite literally. These past months, your focus has been solely on procreating in the bedroom and rarely for the fun of it, so this is refreshing. But he still asks anyway.

“You want me to spill my seed into you, hm? Are you fertile right now?” His words slip past your ears as you lose yourself to the circles he draws into your bud, but somehow you manage to catch them at the last second.

“It does not matter, I want you anyway.” The answer is no, you aren’t at your most fertile at the moment, but this isn’t about that. Regardless of if anything will come of it or not, you want to feel Jimin paint your walls white with his love, something you think you’ve become addicted to. You bask in the feeling of having him throb and twitch and lose control while at the mercy of your tight walls, even when he’s pounding your weak frame into whatever surface he’s decided to take you on, and the thought has you galloping toward your peak faster than expected.

His leg slips between yours to prop them open, two of his fingers dancing their way into your clenching entrance, the intrusion pulling a loud moan from your lips. They glide and twirl within you much to your delight, but before you can enjoy it fully, they pop out and slither back up to your clit with a thick coating of your own slick. It doesn’t bother you, you could cum like this easily, but what really makes you gape is the feeling of Jimin’s hard member grinding against your ass. You can feel that his briefs are now damp with a mixture of precum and your wetness as you continue to drip down your thighs and make a mess of yourself, and you can’t help but rock your hips into his motion. You grind into each other with sensual synchronization and soon he’s panting along with you, the swollen head of his cock peeking out from his briefs to wet your cheek, teasing you endlessly.

“Jimin,” You whine, praying that he’ll let you cum quickly this morning despite his teasing mood. Every buck into his fingers shoots jolts of pleasure through you and every press against his hot cock has you throbbing at your emptiness. It’s a never-ending loop that has both of you moaning in no time, and it isn’t long before the coil in your stomach tightens to its peak. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” You whisper quietly, your breath being stolen away by the feeling of your orgasm. Your husband groans behind you, forcing his own hips to jerk to a stop as you roll against him to ride out the waves. He can feel you pulsing against his fingers and suddenly craves to feel you around his member, removing his hand from between your legs to push away his bottoms.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” He whispers with soft kisses to your shoulder as you begin to relax again. His tip glides effortlessly against your drenched lips and the fire inside you reignites instantly.

“I am always ready for you, my love.” Turning your head, you find his lips and savor the passionate kiss you share, a warmth blooming in your chest that saves you from the cold of the bedroom. Ever so slowly he pushes inside you, bringing a hand up to hold your face to his as his tongue slips between your lips. Vibrations mingle throughout your bodies as you both moan, the insertion tight as he stretches you open in the early morning light, his morning wood always so sensitive especially with your recent bout of abstinence. On the first thrust his fingers intertwine with yours, and this is the most intimate moment you’ve had with him in a long while. It feels like ages have passed since you’ve indulged each other in slow sex and you are starting to realize just how much you’ve craved it. “I missed you.” You mumble against his lips, barely wanting to pull away to look at him.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Jimin smiles, his eyes still closed but hand still caressing your face. He uses it to skim down your figure, hooking under your leg to lift it over his own and allow him deeper into your cavern, angling himself until you squeeze his hand with a shaky moan.

He honestly thinks he could stay like this forever: wrapped up in your warmth, surrounded by blankets, giving you all the love and pleasure he can provide. Things have been so hectic these last few months, an odd tension growing between you two that he can always feel but can’t quite put his finger on, but in these calm moments before the chaos of the day, he feels completely safe and at ease. Being King is no easy task, this he expected, but this is the only time he gets to shed the expectations, the pretenses, the pressure and just be your lover. Just like at the beginning of your relationship— and how things were 8 months ago, when the Crown was first placed in his hands.

You feel almost like a rag doll in his arms as he snaps his hips into you, allowing him to take you and guide you to bliss. Your hips rock back into him subtly, inner muscles squeezing around his shaft and gripping onto him, begging him to stay buried inside to occupy your lonely walls and empty womb. Pressure builds in your lower abdomen again, accompanied by a flush that takes over your body and warms you uncomfortably under the sheets. Jimin tosses the coverings aside when it gets too much, sweat slicking where your bodies connect. Your nails dig into the flesh of his ass when you reach a hand back to rest on the muscle, groaning at how you can feel every movement whenever his hips surge forward, his strength jolting you with his slow, powerful strokes. His length curves perfectly inside you, touching all your favorite spots and it becomes increasingly apparent that you won’t last long like this. He encourages you with gentle sweet nothings tickled against your ear.

“My lovely wife, always so good to me.” Jimin nuzzles his face in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as his hand returns to your breast. “Always so soft and wet around my cock, darling. Are you getting close again, my love?” You whimper loudly and nod, not trusting your voice entirely when you’re feeling so breathless. “You sound so sweet moaning for me like that. Shall we let the entire castle know what a splendid morning we’re having together? Let them hear how well your King takes care of you.”

“Jimin~” You croon as he picks up pace, hips slapping against your backside and filling the air alongside your heavy breathing. Removing his bottom hand from yours, he props himself up on his elbow to look down over you, opening his legs wider to gain as much leverage as possible to fuck into you. The speed and power he achieves like this has you crying out into the open air, uncaring of who hears how wrecked you sound. You’re certain that the guards keeping watch at your door are uncomfortable by the display of lust, but who are they to judge when Jimin touches just the right places within you to have your body coming apart at the seams?

“Cum for me, my love,” Your husband’s voice feels distant as your thoughts float away. You are not aware enough to marvel at the sheer strength and endurance of his hips, his pace not faltering even once. Crumpling the sheets beneath you, you turn your face into the pillow as your body starts to quiver, a warm hand gripping onto your hip to keep you in place against the onslaught of pleasure. “There you go, milk me of my seed.”

Just the simple thought he plants in your mind’s eye is enough to send you into heaven, your walls clamping down around him with a scream of bliss, just as he requested. Feeling him so deeply makes your eyes roll, every stroke kissing the entrance of your womb and you pray he gives you every last drop he has. With only a few more pushes of his hips, you feel his body tense behind you and shiver, an overwhelmingly sexy groan breathed right into your ear.

It takes several moments of gentle thrusting before he’s satisfied, your body sufficiently full of his sperm and skin tingling with the aftermath of a beautiful orgasm you happily shared. Jimin kisses his way down from the side of your cheeks and neck to your shoulder and arm, ignoring the thin layer of perspiration that dries quickly in the brisk morning air. Though soft, he remains inside of you as he settles himself back against the mattress and holds your body to his, lifting the sheets to cover you before the chill returns. You feel safe. Completely and utterly safe and comfortable in your lover’s arms as you drift back to sleep.

But the peace is short lived because just as you begin to dream again, you feel Jimin pull out of you and shift away, attempting to be as stealthy as possible as he slips from bed. He winces when you turn to your other side to face him, sleepy eyes watching as he pulls on his underwear again. You are unable to return the sweet smile he offers you, already missing the way his skin felt against yours.

“Will you not stay to cuddle me?” You ask quietly, unable to understand why he must leave so soon. The smile on his face turns sad, eyes flickering to the door as several consecutive knocks sing on the wood.

“I have many duties to fulfill today, my love.”

‘And no time for me...’ You think with a poorly concealed frown, burrowing deeper into the bedspread when he opens the door for your servants, who get to work on preparing him for the day immediately. Deep down you know you likely will not interact with him until nightfall as he scrambles around the castle and kingdom serving his duties, but you try not to feel the distasteful irritation in your chest and send him off with a kiss when he makes his exit. Sometimes, though, you cannot help but think he was more eager to be with you when he was merely a soldier.

Jimin sits at a round table meeting with his advisors to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, in which there is not much to report. This is a mandatory meeting they must have weekly and they rarely last long. Most of the time, the conversations divulge into unrelated, off topic subjects just to pass the time, and Jimin has no problem with this on most days. He has a good relationship with his advisors and there is almost never any need for him to use his status as King during their discussions. Today, however, his fuse is a little short. It may be because of the all too frequent restless nights he has been experiencing, or from the lack of quality time he has spent with you, but he is far more irritable than usual. All he can think about is how disappointed you looked when he left and how much he’d rather be cuddled up back in bed with you instead of sitting in front of this counsel.  

“Do not worry, the Queen has already taken care of it.” Someone says, he does not know who said it because he is barely paying attention.

“Pardon my coarseness, Your Highness, but it is my understanding that Her Majesty has not yet conceived.” The man presents this in a questioning manner, but Jimin can hear the underlying condescension.

“You are correct.” He replies in a low voice.

“It has been 9 months since your matrimony. She should bear your heirs with haste.” The room swells with voices as his advisors begin to talk about you, each taking their turn to put in their opinions and criticism. He can hardly believe what he is hearing. They speak as though it is your fault that you are not pregnant, as if you are being defiant by not bearing him children, like it is a choice that you have made consciously. Anger bubbles in his chest, blood boiling as they continue ranting about you right in front of him as though they were not saying terrible things about his wife. He stands abruptly upon hearing someone tell a story about how his wife refused to birth him any more children because he “was acting like one” himself. Jimin interrupts just as the man is about to make a comment about stubborn wives, his voice billowing from his throat like heavy plumes of smoke that quickly engulf the room.

“How dare you speak of my wife— your Queen— in such a disrespectful manner! Do you accuse her of treachery against me? Against this nation? You have the gall to insult her efforts on something she cannot control, to doubt her intentions and loyalty to this kingdom and her own family? I should have you all removed from this castle permanently for suggesting such a thing, what do you have to say about that?!” He looks around the silent room at each of their faces, all of them looking utterly shocked by his outburst. Jimin has never needed to assert his authority over them like this, but they have gone too far today. Though he is the youngest in the room, he is easily the most intimidating when angry, regardless of if he were the King or not. Drawing in a deep breath, he tries to calm himself, running a hand through his hair as he takes his seat once more. “It is my fault anyway, not hers. It is my duty as well.”

It is quiet for a long while, the men around the table hesitate to speak again until one man builds up the courage to break the stillness.

“Do not despair, Your Highness, you are both still young, there is plenty of time to have children.” He reassures, followed by similar comforting phrases from the others. Jimin does not respond as he stares out of the window, a solemn look overtaking his face in place of the relaxed and neutral expression he normally wears. He wonders if you face this criticism regularly wherever you go, if people who are supposed to be your supporters are slowly losing hope in you. You already beat yourself up about not being pregnant, he fears what would happen if those thoughts were validated by others. Something must be done about this immediately.

It is silent for another long pause. “You are all dismissed.” He says with a flick of his hand.

*** *** ***

Your servants follow you around quite stubbornly, attempting (and failing) to be as unnoticeable as possible, but their presence is the only thing you can focus on. If you sigh too heavily they all come scurrying over, asking what was the matter, offering to take care of whatever task you had set out to complete. Yes, it was your mother’s dying wish for you to accept your loyal attendants, and it was your father’s order for them to look after you, but you cannot help but feel that this treatment is a bit excessive. It is almost laughable when you reflect on it: how just a year prior you were known largely for your independence, and now you could hardly find a moment to yourself. The only times you can get away with having minimal supervision is when you go out into town, where you may request only one or two guards or servants to accompany you.

Since becoming the official Queen of this nation, you have taken it upon yourself to care for the nuances of your society, to help individuals and keep a close relationship with the people. Jimin was focused on many of the larger issues that affected groups of citizens, like rebuilding one of the marketplaces that suffered damages in a fire last week, as well as handling international business with neighboring kingdoms. Naturally, everyone took a great liking to him and his policies and the people offered him immense support, but your job as Queen was to support the people. So, every week you go into town and buy a book from a novice writer, read it, then publish an unofficial review for the stories you enjoy. Not only does this boost the writer’s credibility, popularity, and sales, it also allows you to communicate with your people. Your presence in town never goes unnoticed, and often times people give you great recommendations on stories you should interest yourself with. It is the highlight of your week since all you can do is read in the quiet moments within the castle.

It is now early spring, trees budding with sweet smelling blossoms and the beginnings of greenery, displaying their proud potency in brilliant hues that bleach you into the gray of a dead willow. Still, your spirits are beginning to lift the farther you distance yourself from the castle. Walking through town, you breathe in all of the scents around you. Street vendors sell an array of foods that you do not see within the castle often and your mouth waters as you step up to one, picking out a pastry covered in sugar, something that you can easily pull apart with your fingers without the need of utensils. Before you can lift it to your mouth, the guard beside you stops you, plucking a small piece for himself to taste for poison. As a royal, you always thought this job was unnecessary and ridiculous before, but after the catastrophe at your wedding, you now understand it’s significance. That does not stop you from pouting, however, as you are forced to wait at least 5 minutes before the stiff guard allows you to dig into your snack.

You continue through the market, admiring crafts from artisans with masterful handiwork and struggle to keep your hand out of your purse whenever something catches your eye. This market is not the closest to the palace, in fact, it is quite far from it, but you have found that the most valuable work comes from the honest workers that live in smaller homes and lead honest lives, not from the traders and merchants who buy their goods from others and claim them as their own in the wealthy districts. The people who live on the outskirts work harder, and they are the ones you need to support the most.

“This would look beautiful hanging from the palace walls, don’t you think?” You turn toward Lilian as she browses the collection of jewelry that sits beside the tapestry you are holding, her eyes inspecting it briefly.

“I think it would look lovely in one of the sitting rooms.” She grins. Lilian always accompanies you on these types of trips. You value her opinion and reason and sympathize with her lack of outside interaction. Both of you are in the palace at almost all times and you are sure you both would go crazy if not for these couple hours outside those claustrophobic walls.

“I think so, too!” You agree, turning to the guard who continues to survey the area. “What do you think, Kyungsoo?”

He looks at it for a while, then at the others around it, finally bringing his eyes back to yours. “Whatever you desire, Your Majesty. My opinion is insignificant.” His answer causes your face to fall, rolling your eyes at him because he always says that. This is another reason why you bring Lilian along.

Sauntering into your favorite bookstore, you cheerfully greet the clerk and begin browsing for newly released books. Not long after, two women approach you, one of which you recognize to be the bookkeeper’s daughter and a new friend of yours. She always comes to talk to you about the store’s newest additions, and it gives others around her the confidence to speak to you as well. Today she is with a slightly older woman who she introduces as a rising author.

“I believe I have read one of your books before; remind me, which ones have you written?” You prompt, making the woman blush and brighten.

“Snowflower is my most popular work. It is all thanks to your review that I was finally able to get noticed in the writing community!” She beams, sparking conversation with you and Lilian about the book that the two of you enjoyed so much. It must be more than 15 minutes later that you finally decide on what to purchase, you have been listening closely to all that the ladies have to say about each author and the summaries of each story. There were multiple that piqued your interest and you could not decide so you ended up with 3 books in hand as your friend walked you to the register. One of them happens to be a story following the trials and struggles of a mother who becomes pregnant during a war. Of course you hadn’t picked this book for its theme of motherhood. It promised to be a good read— though you had overlooked it many times before today— and you certainly did not choose it because it was the closest thing to a lesson on pregnancy you could get without purchasing the entire series of “Preparing for Parenthood”, perched on a shelf that you found yourself eying the majority of your stay in the store.

Your friend talks mindlessly as she rings you up for your books, inspecting your odd selection. “So tell me, Your Majesty, are you with ch- ow!” The woman beside her pinches her arm just out of your sight, offering up a tight lipped smile when she turns to pout at her. A short flash of realization crosses her face before she returns her attention to you.

“Am I with whom?” You ask, confused.

“Are you with t-the children! Have you- have you come to see the preschoolers perform today?” She covers quickly with a nervous smile. Lilian glares at her when you are facing the other way.

“Oh! I recall hearing that they will be performing a play today, I nearly forgot!” The people around you sigh in relief at your obliviousness, resuming conversation as though nothing had happened. They give you instructions to the school and you rush there, Lilian carrying your books and Kyungsoo leading the way.

When you arrive, there are only parents and family members filling the auditorium, signifying that the play has not yet started. They chat amongst themselves in a rumble of murmurs, but the noise quiets quickly once you are noticed by a teacher that stands near the stage area.

“Her Majesty!” She gasps. “Welcome, welcome!” She practically runs to you, approaching clumsily while Kyungsoo moves to shield you with his body, stopping the woman before she can get too close. You gently move him aside to allow the woman to see and speak directly to you. “I had no idea that the Queen would be visiting today! To what do I owe you the pleasure?”

“I have come to see the children perform. It is imperative of me as Queen to support our kingdom’s youth.” You smile, noticing a weird look that crosses her face for a moment before smoothing out. Lilian has a tight smile spread across her lips just out of your peripheral.

“Of course! Well, you are just in time, the show is about to begin.” She tries to clear the front row of parents for you, but you insist that the parents of the children should get the best seats, settling for the chairs she pulls up for you at the sides of the small theater.

The moment the toddlers waddle onto stage in their costumes, your heart liquifies. They are the cutest things you have ever seen. Some of them look confused, some are pouting, but most of them are excitedly waving at their parents in the crowd, nearly tripping over each other from not looking at what’s happening in front of them. Even more heartwarming is the reactions of the parents, each and every one of them sitting up straighter and beaming with joy at the sight of their offspring, even the parents who had previously looked bored. Your attention is split between what is happening onstage and in the crowd throughout the entire play, watching the silent interactions between child and parent. You could always tell which tot belonged to which parent because of their reactions. Every child had their own lines, and whenever one stepped up to speak, the parents would lean in closer to the stage or straighten up to send a thumbs up to the wide eyes that stare back at them.

At some point, you had begun to imagine what it would be like if your own child were up there. You scan the faces of the toddlers, determining that a shy little girl bears the closest resemblance to your future baby, and you watch her the entire rest of the play. Her finger reaches into her nose several times during the performance, something your toddler would be forced to learn not to do, and she appears to be quite hesitant to say her lines. You and Jimin would act just as her parents are now, waving at her and mouthing words of encouragement when it seems like she will not speak at all, smiling proudly after she executes her parts flawlessly. Jimin would probably hold your hand as you watch her and you would be able to feel the sweat on his palms from how much he would worry for her, whispering to you how he hopes she will not cry because of how shy and quiet she tends to be. And you would whisper back that your baby is talented and will do great because she is very mature for her age, being a Princess and all.

Your eyes do not leave the girl for a minute and you are so caught up in your fantasy that you almost miss when everyone stands to clap at the end of the show. You rise slowly and offer your applause, cheeks hurting from smiling too much, but you cannot ignore the bittersweet feeling in your chest that comes when all of the children disperse and run into the arms of their waiting parents. And you are forced to remember your situation. The teacher begs you to make closing remarks and you take your place on the empty stage to address your people. Unable to focus properly, you barely know what you are saying; you thank the students and teachers for a great show, repeat a total of 4 times how adorable the children were, speak at length about how much you enjoyed everything, and once you notice that you’re rambling, you conclude quickly and move from the spotlight awkwardly. The families don’t seem to notice as they return their attention to gushing over their babies.

Just as you are about to make your exit, someone runs up to you and stops at your feet, her hair barely reaching the bottoms of your knees as she looks up at you. It is the girl you had been watching, and her arms reach up to be held once you make eye contact with her. At the approval of her parents, you lift her light body and rest her on your hip, the position comfortable and natural despite you having held a child only a few times in your life. You congratulate her and she smiles at you, turning to look at her parents as you try not to marvel at how perfectly innocent and sweet her face is.

“Your Majesty,” Her mother greets with a bow. “I was very surprised to see you here today. I had heard that you often come to these parts of town, but I would have never expected you to grace us with your presence on an occasion like this.” She is very polite, noting how the little girl has taken a liking to you already.

“I believe it is important to keep in touch with my people, and what better way is there to connect with you all than to attend a performance of my kingdom’s children?” You grin.

“I heard rumors that lately you had been feeling quite under the weather.” At this you quirk an eyebrow. She continues. “Many had assumed you were pregnant, so word spread that the King would not allow you out of the palace and that is why you had been absent for the past few weeks.” As if Jimin could tell you what to do. Yes, it is true that you had not gone outside of the palace in about 3 weeks, but that was of your own accord.

Jimin’s mother had taken a short vacation to your home upon your request after you detailed to her your troubles with conceiving in a lengthy letter, and she spent those three weeks improving your physical health with things like yoga and kegal exercises, as well as offering you very blunt and personal advice that you were almost too embarrassed to put into practice. Jimin warned you of how she was unafraid to talk about intimate topics, recalling a specific conversation she had with him in his teenage years, but you were still unprepared for the sheer amount of information she gave you during that time. You simply did not have time to go on your weekly shopping trips.

“That is... not the case.” You reply, adjusting the girl on your hip.

“Oh, then you are not pregnant?” The woman seems surprised and Lilian seems almost outraged, cutting in when you open and close your mouth with no other response.

“We have not been to this part of your town yet, are there any places you suggest we visit?” Lilian’s voice sounds through her teeth, swiftly changing the subject. You didn’t think you would have trouble talking about this, but here you stand, blinking away tears at her question. The girl’s mother seems to realize her mistake when she takes in your watery eyes that you try to hide with a fake smile. You let Lilian continue her conversation as you wander away a few steps, pretending to inspect your surroundings as you gather yourself, until a nearby newspaper catches your eye. On the cover are the words “KING’S NEW ORDERS! PROTECT THE QUEEN” and your heart jumps at the suddenness. You bend carefully to turn the page and read the article, a mix of emotions rushing through your body that almost makes you lose grip on the child in your arms when you understand their significance. You quickly return her to her parents, excusing yourself from them on the pretense that you had to be back at the palace for important business, and you instruct Kyungsoo to guide you back to the carriage to head home.

Upon entering your bedroom, Jimin finds a note on the bed in your writing, reading it with curiosity. It leads him to a familiar place and he hurries there with mild concern, mind rushing with thoughts of what your note could have meant.

Curled up in your favorite chair, he finds you reclining with a new book in hand as you look through the window of your Secret Library. Your servants know nothing of this place, you and Jimin have made certain that it’s location remains hidden, so this is the only place you can truly be alone. To his knowledge, you only come here when something is troubling you or when you need to think, and his mind jumps to all of the worst case scenarios of what could have happened.

“My love, you wished to speak with me?” He asks, approaching urgently as according to your urgent letter. But you remain relaxed and unresponsive as you continue to flip through the pages of your novel. He looks down to inspect your choice reading, taking note that it speaks of a woman who, in this current scene, is just learning that she is pregnant. You take your time reading it, only turning to him after the chapter is finished. When you turn to him your eyes are blank and unreadable.

“Why have you placed a censorship on our people, My King?” You ask suddenly, and it takes him aback.

“A c-censorship?” He stutters out.

“Yes, you recently placed a censorship on the people of this kingdom, have you not?” You look him in the eyes and find that he can barely hold eye contact, his entire body tense. It is difficult for him to respond, especially since you were not supposed to know about this, at least not this soon.

“It is not a censorship.” He evades.

“Really? So you have not ordered our people to be silent about anything pertaining to pregnancy and children around me?” He fidgets under your piercing tongue, unsure of how to respond. “That sounds quite close to censorship to me.”

“It is only to protect you, My Queen,” He relents, stepping closer to you as you snap your book closed. “People can be very insensitive and I did not want you to be hurt by their words.”

“Hurt by their words? What words would they have said to me? I am not a child, Jimin, you need not protect me from words!” Your volume rises along with the redness of your face. “Are the people criticizing me in some way? What have they said? What have you heard to make you so wary of words?”

“Their words hurt me, (Y/n).” He says quietly as he lowers himself to his knees and takes hold of your hands when he sees the worry in your eyes. “What I heard hurt me, and I could not bear the thought that you may hear such things too. I did not do this because I think you are not strong enough to endure it, I did it because you do not deserve to hear such negativity.”

“Even so, how dare you make such a rash decision without consulting me.” You remove your hands from his and he does not reach for them again. “You saw me directly after your council meeting last week and mentioned not a word of this to me. If you had asked, I would have told you that none of this is necessary, that I can handle whatever my people have to say about me because I am the Queen!” Your voice cracks annoyingly as you fight back hot tears. “I should be able to answer them when they ask me questions. And maybe I should hear what they say about me. Because they are correct, I am not pregnant and I do not know if I can ever become pregnant and maybe they should be worried. My sensitivity should not warrant their silence.”

“You are not sensitive, my love, you have every right to feel the way that you do.” You ignore him.

“But what troubles me the most is how you so easily excluded me. You acted without my consent and planned to keep this from me indefinitely— you even made sure Lilian was the first to know so that she could keep watch over me today! What happened to our communication, Jimin? We should be able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but instead you felt the need to keep something so important a secret from me. You could have simply talked to me and told me how you feel. It feels as though we have not spoken in days, it is almost like you aren’t trying anymore. It feels like you have given up.”

The fire in your tone dies down until all that is left is pain, and Jimin realizes that it is he who has hurt you the most.

Lilian told him about where you went today and how you acted. She told him of the lost and pained look in your eyes as you watched the children, even though you were smiling. Most importantly, she relayed your exact reaction when that woman asked if you were pregnant. It was just as he had feared. Putting these pieces of information together with the book you had been reading, Jimin knows that this argument is about more than what you’d like him to believe.

“This is no longer about the censorship, is it?” He asks cautiously, guilt leaking onto his features. You appear shocked at first, not having realized your own subliminal shift from the topic, but then your face twists with emotion and you bite your lip and turn your head from him in an effort to hold yourself together. You are tired of crying in front of him.

“You-“ Sniffling, you try to control the shakiness of your voice. “You do not talk to me anymore. I never know how you are feeling these days because you have been avoiding me.”

“I do not try to avoid you, my love.” He frowns, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“It feels like you are. You do not come to my health examinations anymore, you can never seem to make time for them.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. “I am always forced to go through them alone and I sit there the entire time wishing that you were there to hold me or reassure me, but I’m always alone. And it may be easier for you to hear the bad news from my mouth, but it hurts me more every time I am forced to tell you that I have failed once again. And we haven’t tried in a long while, I am beginning to fear that you no longer want to touch me.” Your eyes convey a deeper pain than your words can communicate, and the earnestness in them when you look at him breaks his heart. He didn’t mean to make you feel this way, it‘s the last thing he would want.

“I still very much want you, My Queen, I always will. I have been hesitant to initiate anything with you as of late because you seemed so disheartened and dejected and I did not want to further upset you with inappropriate timing. I have also been struggling to keep my optimism, forgive me for my misjudgment.”

“That is another problem,” You sigh, knitting your eyebrows. “I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling. You always comfort me and tell me that I can be open with my emotions with you, yet you do not listen to your own advice and tend to lock up around me. It will not lessen my sadness, but to know that you are just as affected by this as I am and that I am not overreacting would give me the tiniest bit of comfort. But when you force yourself to appear unaffected, it feels as though I am the only one who cares.”

“But I am the King,” Jimin starts, conflicted. “I cannot afford to show weakness or lament in our misfortunes. I must be strong for the people.”

“Strength is not the only trait of value!” You hiss, irritated that he has this perception that is so inaccurate. “Emotion does not always entail vulnerability and the people will see that. They adore how much you care about them, how you grieve with them when you learn of their losses, so why would it be inappropriate for you to care about me? Do not forget that you are also my husband. That is what you signed up for on our wedding day; you married me and the kingdom followed. Why is it that I am never your priority?!”

Sadness transforming into boiling rage, you stand and push past him toward the exit. This is your first real argument with him and it seems that everything that has been bothering you for the past few months is now exploding out of your mouth. You did not mean for your words to be so harsh, yet you could not control them and figured that you should let everything out while you had the chance. Much of your frustration is about your own incompetence, but you redirect it toward him because you cannot handle anymore mental self-abuse. A tiny part of you wants him to yell back at you and affirm everything you already thought about the direction of your relationship just so you could be right about something for once. Most of you, however, wants him to run after you, take you into his arms, look you in the eye and dispel all of your worries by pouring out his heart to you.

And that is exactly what he does.

“My love, do not run away.” He says gently, grabbing your hand before you can even make it 3 steps past him. He moves to the front of you, taking your face in his palms so he can stare into your eyes, hoping they can fill in the blanks between his words. “You are always my priority and you always will be. I-“ He sighs, looking away for a second before returning to you. “I do not always make the best choices, and for that I apologize. Being your husband and a King is far different than being a military general, and it is taking longer to adjust than I anticipated. I love you so much, to the point where I am afraid of making mistakes and losing your heart somehow, so I try too hard to be perfect. I take care of your kingdom because it was yours before it was mine and I know how dearly you hold it’s people. I try to be as tough as possible for you because I thought you would expect it of me when you were feeling weak.” His hands fall to your shoulders. “As a General, I learned that the only way to gain respect and love was to work hard and solve all issues, but it appears that I will need a different mindset in this situation. Because it seems I have become too consumed with work and too busy to show my love for you, and I know I will need to change that if I want to be a good father to our children.”

“You do not need to change at all, Jimin. Who you are trying so hard to be is not the same man you were when I met you. Yes, you were strong in front of others, but you never closed yourself to me. I do not want you to change or pretend to be tough, I want you to be you, because that is who I married.” This causes him to think back to how he has behaved in recent months. Maybe he was avoiding your appointments purposely so he wouldn’t have the chance to break down in front of the doctor or Lilian. And maybe he had been ignoring you so he wouldn’t have to face his own pain that you reflected. He’s been treating you unfairly in an effort to play a role that doesn’t exist, and he welcomes the guilt that slaps him in the face at the realization. He hates that he ended up like this even after all that you went through in the aftermath of your wedding. It is like he had forgotten all that he promised you.

“I apologize for everything, My Queen. I will remove the censorship immediately.” His head bows with heaviness. “I do still want a family with you, but maybe we should take a break from trying, just for a little while. Maybe this building friction between us and the stress it caused has been affecting our fertility. Maybe we are trying too hard and should take your advice to just be ourselves. A baby should be made from love, not by expectation. I do not want-“ He thinks about his next sentence carefully. “I want to improve our relationship first, before our attention is shifted to other matters. We are young and have not yet been married a year, my love, we will have plenty of time to conceive. Let me make up for the neglect you have suffered these past months. Let us take it one day at a time.”

He’s right, your relationship has been strained, and it is not only from the fact that you are not pregnant. The discord between you two has taken a toll on your body: you are constantly exhausted, your head pounds with headaches most days, and the loneliness has changed your positive attitude into one of sulking and disdain. It has changed you. So how could you think of bringing a child into this world when you are at this level of dysfunction? Things needed to be resolved first, and here he is, willing to work everything out with you after accepting his faults. You couldn’t possibly reject him.

It’s been nearly a month since your argument, and things have taken a turn for the better. You helped Jimin realize something he didn’t quite understand before: that as King, anything he says goes, so he has been taking frequent days off to spend time with you. He’s taken you on many dates around the kingdom, showing you his favorite places to go when he was a child, exploring different towns you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet, he even accompanied you on your shopping day to meet some of the friends you’d made. Being able to spend time with him like this reminds you of what it felt like in the beginning of your relationship. The novelty of seeing him and the excitement you’d feel in the pit of your stomach. Except this excitement is now from your curiosity of what activities you’ll do with him that day and not from the thrill of possibly being caught together by servants.

You’ve kept things fairly innocent these past few weeks, focusing on rebuilding your emotional connection instead of being physical. You’d lost a lot of weight during the months you were at odds with Jimin, but you’re happy to say that you’re gaining it back now that you’re paying more attention to your health and happiness and not the crazy diets and detoxes that people recommended to you to help with conception. What’s more, you’ve been keeping busy by accompanying Jimin on his political duties instead of remaining put away in the palace. He didn’t want to involve you in political affairs to keep your stress levels low, but you remind him that you’ve been involved in things like that since you where a young princess, so this is the norm. So now you happily travel with him out of the kingdom to attend meetings with neighboring rulers and assure them of your health.

This is the first trip you’ve taken, and it feels absolutely liberating. Seokjin insisted that you and your husband stay in his family’s vacation home located in the area— one of many acquired throughout his travels as a collector and salesman— and it is arguably nicer than the one offered by the royals of this kingdom. Perhaps not as luxurious (though very close to it) but certainly more private. You’d take any opportunity to escape any hovering servants. Your eyes sparkle as you walk through the doors, taking in the modern furniture, high ceilings, and breathtaking view of the green valley and hills surrounding you. The altitude is quite a bit higher than you’re used to, the kingdom poised along a mountainside and sourcing its water from the river that flows through the valley below.

You blame this altitude for the sick feeling in your stomach and the lightness of your head, trying your hardest to keep your etiquette and not plop face first onto the huge mattress. You sit gingerly on the edge, aided by Jimin, who kept hold of your arm ever since he saw you swaying when you stepped out of the carriage. He fusses over you, letting out a disgruntled grumble when you remind him that you saw the doctor before your departure and she found no troubling conditions within you— not even pregnancy, which you were disappointed to hear, but not surprised. The symptoms come and go and you assure him that all you need is some rest and you’ll be back on your feet, and he leaves you under the watch of Lilian and Kyungsoo (who accompany you everywhere) while he travels to the castle to greet the King and assure him of your safe arrival. You nap while he’s away and awake just in time for dinner, feeling refreshed and symptom free, much to his relief.

Being away from the palace and kingdom is sure to do wonders for your physical and mental health. Just being here with the people you love is a breath of fresh air, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face. Seated at the table accompanied by Jimin, Lilian, and Kyungsoo, you feel this is the closest thing you’ll have to a family dinner for a long while. As your servant, Lilian never eats with you at the same time, let alone at the same table, but you begged her to join you and fill the evening air with casual chatter. Kyungsoo is your favorite guard and you’ve always wanted to get to know him, but he remains relatively quiet throughout the meal and never lets his guard down, taking the farthest seat from his monarchs to silently observe. Typical. With your energy levels still quite low, Jimin and Lilian do their best to raise your spirits by showing off their goofy sides, telling stories and making you laugh almost nonstop. But just seeing them bond so well is enough to make your heart swell. You wonder if Jimin will have this type of relationship with your children, one where they can joke freely and build trust with each other without being hindered by the forced power dynamic. You hope their relationship will be better than the somewhat estranged one you have with your father.

“Are you comfortable, my love?” Jimin asks as you settle in for bed. This mattress seems to be made from the clouds of the heavens, you’ve never felt relaxation like this. You’ll have to purchase one for your own bedroom.

“Yes, My King.” You return, grinning at the way his cheeks lift. He climbs in behind you after blowing out the lanterns, the scent of smoke wafting gently through the room.

“How are you feeling? Better?” He sounds tired and you have no desire to keep him awake with your troubles, so you nod.

“Yes, after my nap and dinner, I feel just fine.” You don’t mention your growing headache because you’re certain a good night’s sleep will resolve it. You’re feeling uncharacteristically tired, exhausted even, and it’s most likely from the long journey here. Hopefully, you’ll wake up refreshed and energized in the morning.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything tonight.” He whispers, already starting to drift off.

“I won’t trouble you.” You assure him, sinking into slumber.

“Are you sure you are well enough to go out today?” Lilian sifts through your clothing, trying to decide what to dress you in for today’s events, accounting for the warm mid-spring weather. She is alone in the bedroom with you, Jimin having stepped out to give you privacy while getting ready.

“Yes, I am feeling much better.” This isn’t a lie. Although you felt extremely sluggish upon first waking up, you now feel great. Jimin had asked you about a thousand questions before leaving bed this morning and at breakfast, and you dispelled each one of his worries with confidence.

“I am glad to hear that, but please do pay attention to your condition, Your Highness.” She says this as she holds up a pristine gown for your approval, handing it to you when you nod both at her words and fashion choice.

She doesn’t need to vocalize what’s on her mind, you know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you’ve been having the same thoughts. But your doctor was very clear that you are not pregnant when you saw her before the trip. Also, you bleed 2 weeks ago, and though it was short-lived, it was accompanied by cramps and headaches, dutifully reminding you of your empty womb. So you ignore Lilian’s concerns and move about your day like normal, smothering the tiny bud of hope that tries to bloom in your chest.

“Are you excited for today’s meeting?” Moving away from the topic, she smiles at you through the mirror at the way your face lights up, beginning her work on your hair.

“This is the most excited I have felt in a long while! It will be my first diplomatic duty as Queen.” Finally, you feel useful.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” What she means is ‘would you like me to keep an eye on you to make sure you are feeling okay/ nothing bad happens’ but you pretend not to notice.

“No, Lilian, I want you to treat this as a vacation of sorts. You work so hard my humble, loyal friend. Go and explore the towns, have fun while we’re away from the kingdom.”

“I do not want a vacation, I want to make sure you are alright.” She responds quietly, blushing. You hum.

“Respectfully, I do not need to be looked after like a child.” You chuckle. “I can do well on my own. Besides, Jimin and Kyungsoo will be there if anything happens.”

“Then I will take my leave tomorrow after I make sure you are alright today.” She says stubbornly, not meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I cannot relax in good conscience without being assured of your safety.” Nodding, you accept her terms with a smirk.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Queen (Y/n).” King Jackson smiles at you, bowing his head in greeting. You grin widely as you sit across from him and his wife at the large conference table, Jimin placed closely at your side.

“You as well, Jackson.” Last you saw him, he was a prince. In fact, he submitted the first marriage proposal you’d ever received, asking your father for your hand in marriage as soon as he heard you were of age. He is a little less than 4 years older than you, handsome, bubbly personality, likable and charming on all fronts, and you had no qualms with marrying him, but you also had no desire to leave your kingdom to rule another. As King, he would have you move into his castle and be at his service where you would likely not hold any power or say in most matters involving the people, something that deeply displeased you, so you turned him down. Now he has a wife and several small children, as well as the throne and an entire kingdom to lead. And as of your coronation, he is your kingdom’s closest ally.

“No need to be so formal, Queen.” He jokes, immediately setting a relaxed atmosphere. You are meeting to discuss and update the terms of a treaty between your allied nations, one that your fathers had written and agreed upon many years ago, but legally needs to be reviewed thanks to the recent shift in power. Your father is quite close with Jackson’s own, therefore you have a good relationship with the young King from years of getting acquainted during your childhood. Jimin, however, has no such history with the man and seems rather tense around the lighthearted playful. “I was disappointed when you refused by marriage proposal, but it seems that you have chosen a handsome and competent spouse in my place, just as I have.” He grins, winking at his wife, Lena.

“It was never ‘your place’, do not be so big headed,” You roll your eyes but he ignores your quip, eyes trained on Jimin.

“We spoke yesterday evening, but I am intrigued to get to know more of you, King Park. May I call you Jimin?” Jackson barely waits for a reply before continuing. “I must know more of the man whom I am to be allied with, and the man who married the ever-so-independent princess.”

“I must admit, I am curious about you, too. But if my beloved trusts and acknowledges you, then I will do the same.” Reaching under the table, Jimin’s hand finds yours and you smirk, pleased that he won’t let the other King intimidate him.

“Regarding the treaty;” Jackson pulls out a long document, skimming over the lengthy script that you are both irritatingly familiar with. “Will our kingdom’s continue to remain allied during times of war, help financially and provide resources in times of natural disaster, respect the borders set by each nation without the intention of gaining territory, and continue to keep trade borders open?” He reads off the major points of the list, you and Jimin answering with a ‘yes’ to each. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“Not that I can think of.” You respond, Jimin saying the same. Feeling satisfied by your responses, Jackson signs his name under the print of your fathers, passing the document to you for your signature. But you slide the paper to your husband, whose name appears in ink now instead of yours. Surprised by this, you can see the unfiltered comment bubbling out from the brazen King’s dome.

“I would not have expected, (Y/n), that you would submit the powers of your status to a man.” It is obvious that he has already assumed that your action means that you no longer hold the highest authority in your own land, but you are both quick to correct him.

“You are mistaken.” Your voices harmonize into one as you say this, Jimin continuing on to explain. “My Queen has not yielded even an inch of power to me. As I am sure you know, she is fully capable of handling affairs such as these, any responsibility she has shifted to me has been due to her own discretion.” Though his tongue is quick, Jimin is sure to keep a light, non-malicious tone so as not to offend your friend. You’d much rather focus on internal public affairs, leaving international and business related issues to your husband. But it seems others have the wrong idea about you.

The man across from you blinks at this, raising his eyebrows, and you know Jimin has just gained a large amount of respect in his eyes. You find it quite flattering to see him so defensive of you and you give an approving squeeze of his hand.

“As expected,” Jackson hums with a grin, receiving the document as Jimin passes it back to him. “Well, it seems that our business here is complete! Shall we have champagne to celebrate this swift agreement?” He doesn’t realize his error until his wife nudges him in the ribs and he looks up to see your faces pulled into wide-eyed frowns. “Ah, yes— my apologies,” He scratches his neck bashfully. “Then, may I interest you in some exercise?” Eyes boring straight into Jimin’s, he asks this as the men share a look.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Lena beams, nearly bouncing in her seat as you both observe from a bench on the side of the field. Somehow you hadn’t expected this when Jackson offered his proposal. Your husbands are standing in a marked area with protective gear covering their bodies and gleaming swords, preparing for a sparring match in the warm weather. The sun beats down on you as you squint at them, using your hand to shade your eyes before Lilian appears with a parasol to place over your head. “Have you ever seen your husband fight before?” She asks, staring at your side profile.

“Never.” You respond. “This should be interesting.” Admittedly, you tend to shy away from violence, resenting the thought of people battling each other for bloody glory. Though you are in charge of the military, you never ask for too many details, and skillfully avoid any training grounds near the castle. It may be ironic, then, that you married a General who has seen more battles than he’s cared to mention and carries more scars than he’d care to explain. But you must admit that you’re intrigued by the spectacle he’s sure to put on for you, comforted by the fact that this is completely safe.

“Jackson has been training sword for most of his life, but has never seen an actual battle. I wonder how their skills will compare.” Lena states proudly, sipping from the drink one of her servants comes to offer, dismissed when you decline.

“I hear that you were a General, King Park.” Jackson checks the cap at the tip of his sword, nodding to the instructor that stands at his side.

“I’d like to think that I still am one.” Jimin responds as he stretches out his stiff muscles.

“Even after being promoted to Commander in Chief?”

“I’ve done nothing to earn that title but get married.” The man before him hums.

“I assume you are quite skilled with a sword then, have you practiced fencing before?”

“Of course, it is taught as the basics of sword fighting. Though, I would not say I am a master.” Humbly, your husband lowers his head to inspect his blade, shaking his head at Jackson’s outcry.

“Nonsense! Any man who has done battle for his life is surely a master. Though, I do ask that you do not hold back on me here; I certainly will not do the same for you.” A wolfish grin creeps up onto both Kings faces, mirroring each other as they pull down the hoods of their face guards.

“You’ve said nothing of your own skill thus far, I will not make the mistake of underestimating you.” The match starts swiftly after they take position, Jackson lunging forward and barely missing Jimin’s side as he dodges out of the way.

Your mouth falls open as they move, each motion calculated and precise. You know nothing about fencing, but it is clear that they are both highly skilled. You’ve never seen your lover move this way before, so dynamic and captivating as though he were performing a dance. Powerful and graceful in every step taken toward his opponent, wielding his blade as though it were an extension of himself. He is beautiful to watch, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest as you are enraptured by the display. Both King’s are even in size and capability, but you can see the ease of movement Jimin possesses compared to Jackson’s deliberate strokes, almost as if he were teasing him. Lena cheers from beside you, but you can’t make a sound. Seeing him like this— completely in his element and moving so gracefully— has your body heating for another reason unrelated to the unrelenting sun. You’ve married an amazing man.

“You’re quick.”

“That is a great compliment, coming from you,” Jackson grunts, keeping Jimin on the defensive with his bold attacks. “But I can tell you are merely playing with me.”

“Not playing.” Waiting. One thing Jimin is an expert at is waiting. Patience is his strength, in fighting and in his daily life. He was patient when it came to you, taking his time with each step of your relationship until he was entirely sure that you were ready, that you wanted him. He was patient with each of his military promotions, climbing up the ranks with hard work and diligence until he was recognized. And he will continue to be patient with the next stage of his life, trying his best not to lose hope that you will become pregnant one day, so he will deal with the disappointment and trials with you for as long as it takes.

As soon as Jackson falters he takes his shot, attacking with swift consecutive swings until his opponent is pushed far back on his side of the space and leaves an opening, one decisive lunge ending the match. They both pant as Jimin’s sword makes contact with the center of the other King’s chest, the cap pressed into the padding protecting his flesh. There’s silence for a beat before they both drop their guard, retuning to the start position. Jimin turns his head to make sure you were watching, lifting his mask to wink at you and smirking salaciously when you blush.  

“Well done.” Jackson nods. “But I won’t let you get the better of me next time!”

“Your husband is a bit intense, no?” You ask Lena as she giggles, humming in agreement.

“And it seems your husband is a bit competitive.” You also nod, the heat drying your mouth as you watch her sip her drink again. She calls over her servant when she catches your stare and they hand you a glass— Kyungsoo swooping in annoyingly to try it first before you can taste the sweet liquid. “He seems very fit and possesses a beautiful physique, I’m astounded that you have the willpower to leave bed with a man like that, especially as newlyweds.”

You choke on your drink mid-swallow, nearly spitting it out because of her words. Jackson has a notoriously dirty mind, it is no surprise to you that his wife shares that quality— she’d have to, in order to tolerate him. She laughs as Lilian takes the drink from you as you wipe your mouth, turning the comment back on her.

“I could say the same to you, Jackson is just as built.”

“Oh, trust that he kept me in bed for months after our wedding date. It is no coincidence that I have this many children now.” Her eyes shift back to the men on the field, seemingly satisfied with the rosiness of your cheeks. Recovering, you address her once more.

“Speaking of, may I meet them?”

“I’ve known (Y/n) for most of my life,” Jackson speaks up during their final round. “Though I submitted a proposal, she’s grown to be like a sister to me over the years.”

“Is that so?” Jimin grunts, their swords clashing loudly.

“I was skeptical of what kind of man she had chosen when word spread of your betrothal. Wondered if you would be able to protect her as she tends to venture out and do things on her own; sometimes-” He jumps back as Jimin closes in. “-befriending the wrong people. I worried when I heard of the catastrophe at your wedding ceremony.” The cap of Jimin’s sword touches to his opponent’s chest once again, ending the sparring match. They both remove their helmets and masks, breathing heavily as they look at each other. “I truly empathize with what you were forced to experience. I could not imagine being in that situation with my wife.” Both men turn to look at you and Lena, their 4 children surrounding you as you hold the youngest in your lap. It is a sight that simultaneously melts and breaks your husband’s heart. “Nonetheless, after meeting you, I am confident that she is in good hands. I like you a lot, Jimin, and though my approval may mean nothing, I think you are an excellent match for her.”

You look up to see them shaking hands, both of them walking over to you with content looks on their faces. The child in your lap looks up as his father approaches, making grabby hands at your friend until he reaches down and lifts him from you. You watch with starry eyes as Jackson props the child up on his hip, kissing over his chubby cheeks and forehead, but then your attention is pulled away when Jimin stops to stand in front of you.

“Did you win?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, My Queen,” He bows dutifully, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It should be offensive how sexy he looks right now, standing in the sun with his wet hair, skin shining with hard work and eyes landing lazily on your figure with a lazy smirk. Your heart jumps and you have to look away before your mind slips even further away. “Do I get a victory kiss?” He bends down toward you, puckering his lips, and you push lightly at his chest with a laugh.

“But you’re all sweaty!” Your nose wrinkles at him but your eyes still lock onto his lips, even as you continue to swat at him.

“No kiss for your King?” Jackson quips, turning to his own wife who is already shaking her head in disgust. “Lena~ Don’t I get a reassurance kiss after my defeat?” The same look Jimin has on his face is contagious to the other King, who grins at Lena as she shields her face with another one of their giggling children, peeking out from over her shoulder. Both men approach with puckered lips, causing their Queens to squeal at their playfulness— you even hop up from the bench to avoid him, taunting him as Jimin chases you around the field. It’s rather immature, but you feel no need to pretend here or uphold appearances in front of your hosts. Lilian and Kyungsoo look on fondly, never having seen you so carefree.

“You never minded my sweat before, my love.” Jimin whispers to you when you finally allow him to give you a peck on the lips, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You don’t respond, rolling your eyes at him with a barely hidden smile.

“You seem to be getting along nicely with Jackson.” You comment as you rummage through your luggage, searching for one specific item. Jimin replies from behind the partition of the bathroom, bathing away the grime of the day in preparation for the night. You had both sent Lilian away when she offered to help and she took off to explore the nighttime activities of the kingdom, one of Jackson’s male servants offering to be her guide. You’ll be sure to ask her for details in the morning.

“Yes, he is quite an interesting character. He gave me his official approval to marry you, which I suppose I am grateful for.” Hearing the smile in his voice, you giggle, silencing the gasp that leaves your chest when you pull out the delicate lace garments, your heart rate speeding up. You aren’t sure why you feel so anxious about this. It’s not like you to get nervous about being intimate with Jimin, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since you last had him, the recent abstinence keeping your body on edge. Or maybe you are worried about what he will say when he sees you. Embarrassment colors your face as you quickly slip on the set, covering yourself with a robe when you are finished.

“He gave you his blessing to marry me?” You chuckle.

Stepping onto the tile of the partitioned washroom, you stand before the full length mirror to inspect yourself before tying it closed. The robe covers you from Jimin’s viewpoint behind you as he finishes washing up, and you try to appear productive as you move to moisturize yourself. When he is finished, your husband approaches from behind, a towel hung low on his waist as he comes to wrap his arms around your midsection. You can feel his sturdy body pressing into you as he pulls you closer, his eyes staring into yours through the glass when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“His ego hasn’t shrunk an inch since I last saw him.” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two of you sway gently together.

“Well, he is a King.” Jimin reasons in a whisper.

“But so are you.” His arms loosen around you when he feels you start to turn, both of your eyes open now as you peer up at him with glittering eyes, gingerly locking your fingers behind his neck. Your heart kicks up as you watch the easy grin on his lips, the absolute and unwavering adoration he holds for you so evident in his gaze. It reminds you of earlier times, his expression the exact same as when he first confessed that he was in love with you and you reciprocated, kissing him so certainly. Now, you kiss him with practiced ease and press ever closer into his warm body. Jimin’s tongue dances with yours, both of you getting lost in the moment until you are forced to pull away for air. “You were amazing today, General Park.”

The use of his former title makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It isn’t like he doesn’t like the name, it is simply that he never expected to hear it come from you again.

“I did not realize that you were so agile and powerful, I was very impressed with what I saw.” One of your fingers trails down his chest, playing in the dip of his v-line before coyly tracing back upwards with each slow word you speak. “That is not to say that I was unaware of your capabilities, you have found great success in protecting me and my kingdom, but watching you was eye opening... and quite arousing.” His breath hitches in a way that gives you more confidence, courage swelling in your chest that helps you ignore the redness of your cheeks.

“Is that so?” Jimin swallows, curiosity lighting his gaze.

You hum in affirmation. “You must work extremely hard to become that skilled, so I thought it appropriate to give you a gift to show my appreciation for all that you do.” Taking a step back, you play with the ribbon of your robe, amused by the sudden change in Jimin’s expression. He watches you like a predator stalking it’s pray, detailing every movement of your nimble fingers with a heaving chest as you move at a snail’s pace to untie your robe. You decide to tease further once the ribbon is finally untied, only revealing the tops of your shoulders from the silk, holding yourself in modesty until it looks like he’s going to go insane before you open the from to reveal yourself.

Jimin feels like he could faint from what he sees when the robe drops. You are decorated in a lacy white lingerie set that is quite transparent, your nipples visible through the designs of the fabric. The bra of the set extends downwards under your cleavage and he feels his hands lifting to rest on your ribs to touch the material, following it delicately until he cups your breasts with his palms. Maybe it is due to the design of this expensive undergarment, but you fill out the bra much more than either of you would have expected, your breasts round and pushing at it in all the right spots. This is the lingerie set that Jin had hidden behind your commissioned painting as part of your wedding gift, and Jimin had completely forgotten that it was in your possession. He chooses not to question how Seokjin knows your body measurements in order to purchase the present. Eyes trailing down, Jimin takes in the equally scandalous panties that adorn your hips, all parts solid white except for the crotch that remains lacy and see-through giving him a view that makes his mouth water.

You look absolutely stunning, and he tells you in as many words as possible.

“Your gift is not yet complete, General.” The look on his face is everything that you had hoped for, and you wish to shock him even further with your next move. Hooking your fingers into the towel at his waist, you unravel it and expose his growing length, sinking down in front of him.

Quickly, he grabs your arm once he realizes what you are doing, preventing you from going lower. You pout up at him. “My Queen, a woman of your status should never kneel on the ground for any man. You must remain dignified.”

“My dignity,” You half scoff at the notion, rising to look him in his beautiful brown eyes. “I have neither dignity nor pride. You have it all, my love; I have given myself to you completely.” You allow yourself to break from your role play just this once, he needs to know that your words are true. If there is anything he should know by now, it is that you hold no reservations toward him. With him, you are equal and you trust him completely. It is not like you have never serviced him before, but he has never seen you on your knees below him due to his own beliefs and you would like to change that tonight. “I want to do this for you.”

This time when you lower yourself, he allows you to drop until your knees rest on the ground. The view he has is undeniably sinful. You can tell how much he enjoys it by how rapidly he hardens in front of your face. But when you look up from your own spot on the floor, you find that your view is equally as jaw dropping. Jimin looks down at you from over his nose, the damp hair on his head sticking to his forehead and dangling over his eyes, shadowing his features into sharp lines. Every inch of his body is chiseled to perfection, displaying the hours of training he has undergone over the years to get to the level of skill you witnessed today, and if it were not for you already kneeling on the marble, your knees would have buckled right from under you. He is like a statue carved by the gods. And he is all yours.

“If a Queen wants her soldiers to keep performing for her she must reward them, and you are the very best, so I will be sure to give you special treatment.” Lightly grasping his member, you take the time to feel how he grows in your grip. Just the feeling of you running your fingers over his plush balls has him almost fully erect, the muscles of his abdominals tensing as you lean forward to slide him into your mouth, caressing the underside of his cock with your tongue without closing your lips just yet. You’ll work him up slowly, you decide, wanting him to savor this rare occasion in hopes that he will allow you to do it again sometime. Your palm smears your saliva around his shaft and starts to steadily pump him up and down, the simple action causing a groan to tear from your lover’s throat.

Jimin does not know where to look in this moment. Should he focus on your hands as the diligently work to pleasure him? Your tongue when it peeks out from your lips to tease at his slit? The dip of your cleavage that lie in his direct line of sight, framed so perfectly by the underwear you don? Or perhaps those smoldering eyes you stare up at him with, those plotting, gorgeous eyes that call to his deepest desires? You look as if you would do anything for him at this moment— you have intentionally put yourself at his feet to show how vulnerable you are willing to be with him, that you trust him to the utmost degree and you would sink this low, literally, to demonstrate that.

“Shit,” Jimin curses, eyes trained on the way your lips wrap around his reddening tip. You sense his hands fidgeting at his sides, so you take them to place on top of your head, nodding encouragingly until he weaves his fingers into your hair. He throbs in your mouth and you fight back a smirk.

Working meticulously, you take the time to circle your tongue around every sensitive place at his cockhead, licking slowly over his frenulum and flicking over his slit as it starts to leak. The flavor is slightly salty and entirely him, and it makes your legs press together from where your knees dig into the polished marble. Your lips and tongue play at his upper half for a while, one of your hands rubbing whimsical patterns along his tensing thigh while the other tends to his aching base, pumping in time with your mouth with a slight twist to your wrist that has his fingers tightening against your scalp.

“Are you enjoying your gift?” You break away to speak, twirling your tongue around the line of saliva that connects you to his tip in the most lewd way possible.

“Yes,” Jimin pants, clearing his throat when his voice comes out raspy. But the sound makes you drip into your designer panties, the flimsy material doing little against your increasing wetness. “How did you become so skilled at this, My Queen? You are such an angel but possess devilish talent with that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I had an excellent teacher.” You wink up at him, hoping he was imaging all the times he guided you when you wished to taste him, becoming more confident as time passed and you no longer feared your gag reflex. You figure now is a good time to demonstrate just how well you absorbed those lessons, you finally sink further down on him until he touches the back of your mouth, collecting your spit to slick him before pushing him deeper and into your throat. Your stomach quivers as you hold back the urge to gag, but he sees none of that because when you look up his head is tossed back in ecstasy and concentration. He must focus so he doesn’t cum so soon.

“Just like that.” Biting into the plush of his bottom lip, Jimin falls into the trance of your movements, bobbing up and down on him with his tip lodged in your throat. The first moan he lets out has a shiver crawling up your spine, deep and loud so it echoes against every surface of the room. Drool slides out of your mouth as you continue to suck him but you pay no mind to it, only focused on the way your lover’s body reacts to you. His chest heaves for breath and you can see perspiration beginning to coat his chest and neck, Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. The hand that was previously occupied with the rest of his length moves to his balls, kneading and massaging the sack gently as more moans pour from his mouth. Your clit throbs the longer you suck on him, his cock now at full length and hardness and feeling so thick and heavy on your jaw that you can’t help but fantasize about feeling it inside you again.

His hips eventually begin to twitch and rock into each of your movements, but you can tell he is restraining himself from bucking into you fully. When his eyes connect with yours again, you nod as best you can, pulling off slightly to take a few deep breaths and kiss along his silky skin. Once you have your breathing back to normal, you poise yourself with your mouth open wide and tongue poking out, the sight of you inviting him into your warmth while dressed so scantly and looking up at him with such confidence making it incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure. Here you are, his Queen, the ruler of an entire kingdom by birth right who possesses such elegance and high esteem, sitting below him and offering your throat for his pleasure. This is something that no one else in the entire world will ever see and he feels something similar to pride swelling in his chest at that fact. He knows what you are silently asking him to do, so he does not keep you waiting a second longer before inserting himself back into your mouth and easing his way in until your nose is nestled in the trimmed hair above his pubic bone.

Curses leave him in a continuous string as he takes time to adjust to the sensation, a lightness filling your head that makes you feel like you are floating through the clouds. And that feeling only increases when he starts to move, pulling his hips back for you to take in air through your nose before thrusting in again. Jimin fucks your mouth slowly at first, warming you up to it before he starts to get a bit rougher and visibly more eager, his lips sucked into his mouth as he glares down at you. In any other context, you would think him angry if he ever peered at anyone this intensely, but now you only feel the pool of arousal that builds in your core and gushes out of you at the intimidating glower. Still, his muscles are rigid with hesitance.

“May I go faster?” He breathes, never pulling out to free your mouth to respond. You moan out an answer as best you can, running your tongue against him in approval until he finally releases his tension and follows the urges of his body. He doesn’t aim deep into you, but his pace is quick, surely bruising your esophagus, yet you cannot bring yourself to be bothered. The sensation is indescribable, his hands cupping the back of your head and the sheer heat of his body almost overrides the lack of oxygen in your lungs— and simply imagining the pleasure he is feeling because of you has electricity shooting down to your core. Jimin has his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth, but they quickly shift when your hands find their way to your chest to pull down the bra just enough so your nipples poke out, both hands pushing your breasts together to give him a sight that almost causes him to lose his load right then and there. His hips lose control, stuttering and twitching as his eyes widen comically at the dream-like image of you, and he is forced to pull away after little over a minute of fucking your face. “Fuck-!”

“Is something the matter?” You ask innocently, knees screaming out from your sustained position. The veins in your husband’s hand bulge as he grips himself so tightly his knuckles turn white, his length jumping every time he opens his eyes to look at you. His use of hard profanity is enough to tell you how much you have unraveled him and you revel in the accomplishment.

“Get up here.” He pants, taking your arm in his free hand and helping you to your feet. You hear him click his tongue at the redness of your knees, but don’t have much time to dismiss it before his lips are on yours. Jimin kisses you deeply as if your face is not sloppy with saliva and his precum. He kisses you like it could save lives. And above every filthy thing you have done with him, this kiss is what makes you feel a bashful heat color your cheeks when he pulls you closer.

“Am I to assume I performed well?” You mumble against his lips, eyes crossing slightly to see his smile.

“You were outstanding. So much so that I nearly came down your pretty throat.” Smugly, Jimin unclips your bra, parting from your lips after several minutes of kissing to trace his tongue down your neck until he reaches your chest, forgoing all teasing to wrap his lips around a pert nipple.

“Oh-“ A surprised yelp leaves you and he has to use his strength to keep you from falling over, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly. Your fingers card through his drying hair, tugging at the unbothered man as he has his fun marking and sucking at you. As always, his mouth works miracles, but you have never felt anything like this before. Each swipe of his tongue around your nub has you moaning out his name, when he twists at the other nipple your head falls back in absolute bliss. He’s not doing anything extraordinarily notable, but it is like your body has reached a sensitivity that is completely new to you both. Jimin certainly is enjoying it immensely. His eyes are closed but you can see how they crinkle gleefully at the sides, his cheekbones high almost as if trying to conceal his amusement at your reactions. With puckered lips, he suctions one of your nipples before pulling back to speak.

“I can’t wait,” He grazes his teeth over your other tit before continuing. “-until these fill up with milk for our baby. I’m sure you will look incredible carrying our child inside you— even more amazing than you already look, my love. So round and plump... your cute little womb filled to the brim with my cum and baby.” Your eyes roll when one of his hands slips down your panties to tease at your lips. A growl resonates in his chest at the feel of your wetness. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? What would the people say if they found out that their elegant Queen got soaking wet just from sucking cock and thinking of getting her pussy stuffed full of cum? Hmm? Surely they will know how filthy you are once they see you swollen with my child, walking around the kingdom so shamelessly after getting marked by my seed. They’ll know just how good you’ve been for me, darling.”

“I want them to know I’m yours; I want to be pregnant with your baby so badly!” You sob, hips bucking into his hand as soon as he makes contact with your clit.

He soothes you with soft kisses along your face, ending with a lick to the corner of your mouth as you pant out loud moans for him. “I know, love. The time will come soon enough.”

Once again his lips return to your chest, and the combination of his mouth and fingers has your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. Even after he removes his hand from your panties to hold you closer to him, you feel the building of an orgasm. Your body is completely taken by his tongue and teeth as they suckle cherry blossoms into your skin. And when his wet fingers travel up to twist at your unattended nipple, you feel your body careening off the edge unexpectedly.

“J-Jimin, I-“ Your sentence is cut short by a long whimper, mind going blank at the pleasure. You are able to feel how your walls snap open and closed, each pulse growing more intense as the high drags on for what seems like an eternity to you. Jimin groans at the sounds you make and he looks on in awe from where he still laves at your breast as you bite down on your lower lip to ground yourself. He doesn’t mind the way you tug at his roots in your bliss. The pain only adds to the throbbing of his cock.

“So sexy,” He murmurs as you regain your senses. You seem embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes, and he questions it.

“I have never-“ Averting your eyes to the ground, you look for words in your scrambled mind.

“You’ve never cum like that before?” For some reason you find it slightly humiliating and you have no idea why. Were you really that sensitive from not having sex with him for a few weeks? Your nipples were never that receptive before. Nodding in agreement, you hide your face until Jimin lifts your chin with his finger. “Do not shy away from me, My Queen. You look gorgeous when you cum.” Before you can process it, his hands are yanking down your ruined panties, drenched all the way through and dripping. Your back connects with the wall next to the mirror as you are pinned against the surface with his weight. His fingers slide over your clit and you jolt, attempting to close your legs, but he is faster and jams his thigh between yours to hold you open. “In fact, you look so good that I want to see you do it again.”

Without warning, he plunges 2 fingers knuckle deep into you, searching with little trouble for that spongey area inside you. You are wet enough to lubricate his fingers until he drips down his hand, the slick part of his palm beginning to rub harshly against your clit when his fingers curl upwards.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp brokenly when he reaches your spot. Feeling you clench, Jimin hums and goes to work massaging the area with the pads of his fingers, pressing his other hand to your lower stomach to increase the pressure. Since the first time you squirted he has been almost obsessed with the sight, working diligently to figure out how to make you do it again. There have been many nights dedicated solely to that cause— nights that you endured with bright red cheeks each time he made fun of your fucked out expression and hoarse voice— it is to the point where he now knows your every weakness and can manipulate your body with mastery. He knows exactly how much pressure you like when his fingers are deep inside you. He knows just the right way to massage that sensitive area to get you to fall apart again even if you feel overstimulated. He knows how to move his entire arm to hit that spot each time without fail, his technique flawless as he moves rapidly inside your clenching heat. Almost like a balloon filling with water, you feel another high building up in your core frighteningly fast and the lewd squelch coming from between your legs soon becomes the loudest noise in the room.

“Let go for me,” Jimin encourages into your skin, burying his face in the crook of your neck and panting hot breaths. It is easy to tell how easily he gets himself worked up when pleasuring you. His hard, wet cock twitches incessantly against your thigh, teasingly close to where you want him, and the feeling alone has you galloping closer to your second release. “You look so beautiful like this, pushed against a wall and taking my fingers. I bet you are just starving for my cock, aren’t you, My Queen? I’ll give it to you right after you cum for me. I want you to show me how badly you want it by soaking my arm with your sweet juices.”

The filthy words he feeds you only add to the hunger you feel for him. One of your legs lifts to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as the balloon in your core continues to grow. Your heart is in your ears, beating rapidly, and you have no other choice but to listen to him and release your pleasure. With one synchronized prod of his fingers and circle around your clit, you descend into depraved ecstasy and let the balloon pop. You black out slightly, ears ringing and body numb to the world except for everywhere that your husband touches you, but you are aware of the satisfied moan he gives at your obedience. Whispers of delicate praises tickle your chest as he rests his forehead on your collarbone to watch you soil the floors and his lower half with your clear cum. The sound of it splashing and splattering against each nearby surface is quite embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to think of it when your legs are shaking this hard and your body is tingling with joy.

“Good girl,” You hear Jimin groan, pulling his fingers from you to wrap his arms around your waist so you don’t topple over on your wobbly leg. He figures it may just be easier to keep you up if both of your legs are off the wet floor, so he moves your other leg to wind around his waist before carrying you out of the room and away from the mess to the bed.

Your glazed eyes take him in as he stands above you, a hand running through his disheveled hair as he studies you as well. His face is flushed and sweaty and his chest rises and falls quickly, but you’re sure that is only partly due to the effort he has just put in. There are claw marks on his shoulders and you gasp. You hadn’t realized you were gripping him so tightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind the marks at all, focused entirely on the throbbing member between his legs. Your eyes drop down his toned body to where his hand leisurely strokes up and down his shaft, purposely avoiding the tip to keep himself on the edge. It is almost purple with built up pressure, likely painful by this point, and you will yourself to move your weak limbs to reach out for him, pulling him closer to invite him between your open legs.

He takes his place at your center, one hand pressing into the soft mattress beside your head as he leans over you. You want him to kiss you so badly, but you want him inside you even more. He acquiescences this by sliding into you smoothly before swooping down for your lips.

“Mm~ Jimin!” The thick girth of his shaft stretches you perfectly, ignorant of your ticklish sensitivity as it searches for the deepest spot within you. In no time at all Jimin’s hips are flush with your ass, lips and tongue swallowing your moans into his own mouth.

“(Y/n)-“ He moans in response. Eyes squeezed tight, he forces himself to remain still. “I lose my breath every time I take this dripping pussy of yours. I’ll never get used to it.” Flattered, you hide your face with his by pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you stay like this for a long while, adjusting to each other’s bodies and basking in the intimacy of the moment.

“My love, please move.” You whine when the stillness becomes unbearable, yet you grieve at the loss of his heat when he leans away to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

The first thrust of his hips already has you squirming. Your slick makes it so easy for him to pump into you that he barely has to put in any effort at all, his hips snapping sharply into you from the beginning. You let your legs fall farther apart at his sides and bite your lip when Jimin’s eyes land between your thighs, staring intently at the place where your bodies connect. You’re sure he can see everything, from the way your lips spread open around his wide member, to the shiny streaks of your arousal that quickly slick the inside of your thighs. It’s like you can feel his gaze caressing you, your body feeling sensitive everywhere he studies. You moan unabashedly at the sensation.

“Do you like it, My Queen? Does this feel good?” He prompts, eager for your praise.

“Y-yes, I-“ It has been so long without his cock inside you that you can’t think clearly. All you can do is shout his name and cling to the bedsheets as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds them flush against his front. The angle makes you stutter, his tip touching somewhere sensitive that has your thighs squeezing closed. “P-please, harder. Use me.”

“Keep these fucking legs open.” Jimin growls, thrusting more harshly now. You attempt to follow his command and unclench your thighs, but they shake violently as soon as they part and it takes immense focus for you to hold them there. Looking up at your lover, you see the dark look that overtakes his features, dominance radiating off of him as he gets lost in you. You haven’t seen this look on him in a long while, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole and leave not a morsel of you left until he’s had his fill.

Watching Jimin gain so much pleasure from you takes you to another level of bliss. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pounds his cock within your depths, determined to pull more desperate sounds from your throat, and his teeth bite down on his plush bottom lip in concentration. Sweat now trickles down his brow from the humid heat of the room, undoing the bath he took prior and replacing the soap with the scent of sex that leaks from his pores. This man is undeniably the hottest person you have ever laid eyes on and you can’t help but clench around him at the visuals he’s giving you.

Feeling you clench, Jimin moans, dragging his eyes up your figure until they land on your breasts. They jolt with every harsh thrust he gives you and dance flirtatiously in front of him— he can’t look away. Suddenly, he leans down and snatches up your hands, pinning them above your head with his fingers intertwined with yours, nearly drooling at how delectable you look under him. Your breasts certainly look different, the shape has become rounder and they jiggle slightly more than he can remember, but Jimin doesn’t think much of this as he focuses on delivering hard strokes. You shiver when his tongue licks a stripe up your damp neck, sucking a spot just below your ear before nibbling the lobe. He knows this is a weak spot for you, and just as he expected, your walls tighten around him once more. You push against him, trying to free your hands, but he has them locked sturdily in his grasp, silently forcing you to submit to him. You probably want to wind your fingers in his hair or grip onto his biceps, but he won’t give up an ounce of power at the moment. Not while he is ravaging you like this. So you settle for squeezing his hands and soaking in their warmth, gasping breathlessly as he takes you. You are entirely at his mercy and you absolutely love it.

One of his hands moves down to grip your thigh and push it open, unlocking you from where you have been clenched around his hips. Both of your wrists now held in one hand and still pinned against the sheets. The bed frame creaks noisily as he changes pace, abandoning his hard and fast thrusts for a slow and deep grind that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something feels different about you, about the way you feel around him as the head of his cock licks at your cervix. It’s softer than usual and open for him, almost begging for his sperm, and he thinks this is the perfect time to get you pregnant. He aims to stay deep inside you. Each powerful movement is purposeful, everything down to the slight arch of his back that allows his pubic bone to grind into your clit, and you feel like you’re going crazy.

“Oh fuck, Jimin! I’m close again!” Your voice is strained in your throat and he smirks at the sound. He can feel it, the swell of your walls around him as you near your third high, and he swears it’s tighter than usual. Your muscles begin to tense up and push against him, preparing for your inevitable release. And just because you feel like pushing his buttons today, you allow your thighs to attempt to squeeze closed again.

“What did I say?!” The depth of his voice shocks you briefly and your eyes snap open to look at him. His jaw is tight as his stare bores into you with deadly intensity. “Keep your fucking legs open. Or do I have to hold them for you?” You let out a whimper, not daring to move your hands from their raised position when he drops your wrists to push open your other thigh, leaving you dripping and exposed in front of him. Your skin dimples where his fingertips dig into you— though he is careful not to bruise you— and he seems to hit even deeper like this. “You used to be so well behaved, My Queen. Are you acting out just to get a rise out of me?”

You dodge the question. “Please, Jimin, please make me cum again.” You can hardly hear anything aside from the slap of his balls against your ass and the squelch of his cock pushing through your warm walls.

“You think you deserve to cum? What will you do for it?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat when he sees you genuinely thinking of a response, biting so hard on your lip that he fears it might bleed.

“Anything.” You breathe. You’re unsure of how long you can hold back your orgasm, he feels so good fucking you like this, pushing his whole length into you without mercy.

“Anything, darling?” A lecherous grin plasters itself onto his mouth at your expression. “Hm, are you just saying that because you’re desperate? I can tell it feels good, you’re leaking all over me. Do you like it when I go deep like this?” You nod with a whine, eyelids pressed closed to hold back from cumming. “Open your eyes. Look at how deep I am inside you.” Peeling your eyes open, you peer down at yourself upon his command and see where his own eyes are glued. A small bulge presses against your lower abdomen every time he pushes in, disappearing when he pulls out only to reappear with the next thrust. Neither of you can take your eyes off of the sight, absolutely mesmerized by it.

“Please, I’m so close!” You groan loudly.

“You say you’ll do anything, my love?”

“Yes!”

“Will you be a good girl and let me put my baby in you? Let me cum right here against this fertile womb and get you pregnant with my baby?” The effect of his dirty talk is immediate and you clamp down on him, barely holding back as his hand rests over the bulge in your tummy, adding the tiniest amount of pressure to it.

“I will! Please!” Tears wet your doe eyes as you look up at him, digging your nails into the soft sheets above your head to keep from moving your arms from their position. He notes this with a hum, speeding up his hips in reward for your obedience.

“I know you will. Now cum.” On command, your body lets go of all the pent up pressure in your core, gripping onto his length with unbearable strength. Your walls pulsate with so much force that you nearly push him out, and when he finally pulls out of you, you squirt once again over the ledge of the bed. His hands on your legs do nothing to quell the wild tremors that overtake you and the streams of tears that flow over the apples of your cheeks. You are truly a sight to see, flushed red and glowing with the aftermath of yet another ferocious orgasm. Your sensitivity once again shocks him into silence. He didn’t even need to touch your clit for you to climax.

His stiff member bobs like a flagpole in the wind as he takes you in. It’s so hard that it stands straight up against his abdomen, jumping with its own pulse. When you open your eyes it is the first thing you see, and your body heats up again.

“Can you take any more, my love?” Jimin questions with concern, tracing his hands up your waist soothingly.

“Always. I can always take more of you.” Despite the screaming in your limbs, you sit up abruptly and pull him down to the bed, rolling the two of you over as you lock lips. Jimin seems surprised but not opposed to the shift in power dynamics, sensing that you want to take the reins for now. Your fingers wrap around his base and line him up with your slit, showing not even a moment’s hesitation before dropping down and knocking the wind out of both of you.

“You do not have to-“

“No, Jimin, I want to. I am supposed to be treating you after all, let me make you feel good.”

Fuck, you’re hot. Not only do you look amazing on top of him, but your pussy feels much hotter than usual. And it’s so tight, as if it’s greedy for every inch of him and eager to suck out his release. He won’t last long like this, that is for certain. His hands support you as you shift into a squat above him— and maybe it’s the novelty of the position, but he swears it’s never felt this good before.

“I imagined this so many times, but I never thought I’d actually get to see you riding me like this.” He confesses in a strained breath. You press your palms into his chest to lift yourself up, lowering yourself experimentally before repeating the action with less restraint.

“Am I living up to your expectations?” It could just be the angle, but his cock feels unbelievably deep inside you, and you half expect it to hurt yet you feel no pain. There is not even the slightest bit of discomfort as he nudges at your womb and you attribute this to the three incredible orgasms you have already reached tonight.

“God, yes.” He can’t look away from where you impale yourself on him, your shaky legs spread wide to let him see every second of the erotic display. From the way you grip him every time you lift up, to the strings of your arousal and cum that weave a sticky web between your ass and his pelvis, and even to the way your clit swallows in delight, he almost goes lightheaded as he takes it all in. His throat bobs as he gulps, back arching off the sheets under your warm hands.

“Faster?”

You don’t wait for a response before you start speeding up. He’s close, you can feel it in the way he swells against your walls and see it in the way his neck and chest color that pretty pink color you adore so much. Your limbs are aching for relief and it takes all of your remaining energy to keep up your efforts, but you wouldn’t dream of stopping. No, you are determined to bring Jimin to his end no matter what. The high pitched moans he lets out for your ears only are more than enough motivation to keep going, but you are working for a prize much more valuable that the lovely sounds he makes for you. You want his cum. You want it so badly that it is the only thing you can think of, so despite the pain in your fragile legs as you bounce yourself as hard and fast as you can, you continue for him. You’ve never been afraid to put in a little effort, and this is something you are willing to work for.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna cum!” Jimin’s dialect shines through strongly as he grits his teeth through the pleasure you bombard him with. You know it must feel different for him, the pleasure is always so much more intense when you aren’t the one doing all the work, and this is the first time you’ve pinned him down like this. It’s the first time you’ve dropped yourself down to clamp your knees on either side of him and wrap yourself around his upper body as you pant into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses and coaxing him toward his high with whispered words. Now that the roles are reversed, you can see just how wrecked he is for you— the usually composed king now lies spread in a heap of matted hair, sweaty skin, and bitten lips, completely speechless and grasping onto your thighs in a desperate bid to hold onto his sanity. “Please, I- I-“

“Cum for me, My King,” You are sure your body has just about reached its limit, but you feel no pain or fatigue when you look into your lover’s eyes and find an unraveled man. “I promised I would take your cum and let you get me pregnant. Give it all to me, my love, I want it. Cum inside me, Jimin.”

Bucking his hips, Jimin loses all control and throws his head back in anticipation as he aids your movements with his strong arms. When he feels your lips on his chin, he leans forward and allows you to swallow his groans of pleasure, both of you starved for breath but unwilling to pull away from the kiss. Everything you have done for him tonight— wearing sexy lingerie, getting on your knees to please him, squirting not once but twice— culminates into this one moment and he doesn’t think he can take take it. It’s all too much. With three sharp thrusts from both of you, he climaxes with a shout, lifting you up along with him as his hips rise off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” Maybe you shouldn’t feel this way, but you giggle giddily at the state of rapture he’s in because of you. The veins in his neck pop out of his skin as he dumps spurt after spurt of his semen into you, and you think this is the biggest load he’s ever given you. It takes a long time for him to come down from his high and for a moment you wonder if he will be okay with the way he twitches and shivers as your hips roll to a stop.

He doesn’t seem to mind your weight resting on top of him, nor does he react to the light kisses you press to his drenched skin. He does, however, wrap his arms securely around you when you shift to roll off of him, holding you on top of his body until you both have caught your breath and can open your heavy eyelids enough to look at each other with tired smiles.

“I love you.” You grin, running your digits through his disheveled mop of hair.

“I love you more, My Queen.” He pulls you down for another kiss to silence whatever rebuttal you surely have prepared at the tip of your tongue because he knows what you will say. And the thought makes his heart swell.

It seems like hours pass before both of you can work up the strength to part from each other. You have to be carried to the bathroom because your limbs feel far too weak and Jimin is not yet willing to let you go from his embrace. He is mindful of the puddle that you left on the floor as he carries you to the bath, and both of you sink into the depths together to wash away all your sins. You stay like that until your toes are pruned and the water is slightly cooler than lukewarm, the time flying by as you talk freely about everything you can think of: your hopes for your future family, your day with Jackson and Lena, gossip about Lilian and her whereabouts— she has not yet returned to the lodge even at this late hour and you hope that she is safe, but more importantly, you hope that her night with that handsome male servant ends similarly to yours. She could afford to take tonight and tomorrow off to unwind a bit, you feel a tad guilty that her needs may be neglected in the kingdom as she tends to you nonstop in the castle. Sleep finds you both easily and you cannot drop the smile from your cheeks as you cuddle up with the man you love.

This afternoon would have been perfect if not for the way you were feeling. Sparse clouds float through the sunny blue sky, the mountains surrounding you blossoming with vibrancy, but the beautiful scenery is dulled in your bleary eyesight. The lightheadedness you’d felt upon arrival two days ago has returned, along with a pounding headache that dampens your mood.

Jimin and Jackson walk ahead of their queens, talking casually as though they had been friends for years. The sight makes your heart grow warm and you use it to distract you from your discomfort as you walk along the outside pathways to a different section of the enormous castle. Lena notices the shift in your demeanor fairly quickly, commenting that you look less energized than yesterday.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” She implores, her brow creased with worry.

“I had a very restful sleep last night, but it feels like my body is dragging behind.” You try to keep yourself from rubbing at your face. Royals are not supposed to show weakness and vulnerability in public, and even though you are only surrounded by Kyungsoo and a few of Lena’s servants, you wish to uphold your appearances. “I do not feel sick, however, so I do not think it is caused by illness.”

“Would there be any other reason for you to feel fatigued? We did spend quite a considerable amount of time in the heat yesterday.”

“Well,” The guards and servants lag behind you far enough for them not to hear your conversation, but you still lower your voice in modesty. “Jimin and I were intimate late into the evening...” You figure your late night activities are also the reason for the tenderness you feel in your breasts, your tight undergarments causing slight pain as they bind your chest.

“Ah, I see!” She beams back at you, giggling. “You were not used to such strenuous exercise. I have experience with that— one time Jackson kept me in bed for so long that I nearly fainted from dehydration! Jimin seems like he would have a lot of stamina, be careful with that one.” The wiggle of her eyebrows lifts your spirits a bit. Speaking of such lewd subjects is seen as unladylike, especially for royalty, but you find yourself uncaring of that when you are with Lena. You have never had a woman of your same age and status to converse with before, no one could ever relate or felt comfortable enough to speak freely with you. This closeness you have with her is a novel feeling— and it is likely that Jimin feels the same with Jackson.

“I’ll be sure to be mindful of that.” You smile, staring at the back of his head. Your husband turns to look at you when he feels your eyes as he passively listens to the other King recall a story, sending a wink your way before returning his attention to the man beside him.

“Is there any other possible explanation for your symptoms?” Redirecting your gaze to Lena, you catch how her eyes flicker down to your stomach, a small smile on her lips. As soon as you realize her meaning, you stiffen, legs nearly bringing you to a halt.

“No,” Your eyes fall to the ground. “I... do not think it is pregnancy. Before I departed from home I was examined by my doctor and she-“ You sigh. “I am not pregnant.”

“Hmm. Well, I have been pregnant 4 times and have experienced many symptoms with each of my children. What you described to me sounds familiar. Do not dismiss the idea just yet, (Y/n).”

Before you can even open your mouth to form a reply, you are hit with a wave of dizziness that makes the world spin. Kyungsoo is by your side in an instant, stabilizing you as someone asks if you are alright. You are led to a nearby bench where all of the servants crowd around you, Jimin rushing over when he hears the commotion.

“(Y/n)?! What’s the matter?” The world spins a little less when your eyes are closed, so you do not look up at him, but you can imagine the almost sickly worry covering his lovely face. You know he has been especially traumatized by the events of your wedding and you never want to put him in a situation like that again, but you can’t help the way your body feels. Distantly, you hear Jackson order a servant to get the doctor, footsteps skittering away as he comes to squat down in front of you.

“Are you ill?” Jackson’s voice calms the anxiety you weren’t aware you were feeling. It is frightening not knowing what’s going on with your own body. Lena’s words ring in your mind.

“N-no, it is just the altitude. I just need to rest for a minute.” Your excuse is almost convincing, but no one moves— except for Jimin, who moves closer to you on the bench to support your back. After a few minutes, your head begins to clear, though your vision remains blurry. Eyes silently peer at you from all sides and you can feel them hot on your skin, embarrassment now the prominent emotion you feel. “Please do not worry about me, I am fine, really.”

“Are you certain? We can rest here for a little while longer.” Jimin suggests gently, but for some reason this irritates you.

“I said I’m fine.” You snap, earning an even more concerned look from him. Just then, the doctor approaches, slightly out of breath and sweating. “I don’t need a doctor! I’m feeling better already. Look.” You no longer feel dizzy anymore so you attempt to stand, rising quickly from the seat to come face to face with Jackson as he rises as well. Jimin still has his arm around you, both men watching you closely. “See?” But as soon as you’re stable on your feet, the spinning returns as if on cue and you come toppling forward into Jackson’s arms, everything going black.

“You don’t need to do this, Jackson, I told you I feel okay now.” You grumble as he carries you to the infirmary inside the castle. He took you into his arms without hesitation when you fell, offering to carry you because Jimin was rapidly descending into distress. While you were only out for about 2 minutes before you regained consciousness, everyone had reacted as if you were dying.

Looking at your husband now, you can see how unnerved he has become. Because he is a General who has seen many battles, he has trained himself not to react emotionally in stressful situations— but you can read the look in his eyes as clear as day as he walks alongside you, watching you more closely than what is in front of him.

“That is what you said earlier, and then you fainted immediately afterwards. Do not worry, I don’t mind carrying you. I needed a little exercise today anyway.” Always a jokester, you crack a smile at his comment, rolling your eyes as the doctor leads him into a room to rest you on the bed. The doctor works quickly, taking a blood sample from you and leaving for the lab, having already taken your vitals when you initially passed out. “We’ll be waiting outside.” With that, Jackson takes Lena’s shaky hand and exits the room, leaving you in bed and Jimin hovering over you awkwardly.

“Please sit down, you are making me nervous.” You breathe. He blinks and nods absently, perching himself on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” He laughs dryly. Jimin bites his lip when you give him a sympathetic gaze and take his hand. Your words from the argument you had nearly a month ago echo in his head. This is a chance for him to open up to you about his emotions and seek your comfort, your expression shows that you are expecting it of him, so he takes a deep breath. There’s no use hiding his emotions from you. “Truth be told, I am a wreck. You fainting brought back some rather unpleasant memories.” He confesses.

“I’m sorry.” You really are apologetic, stressing him out is the last thing you ever wanted to do.

“It is not your fault. I just worry about you so much. I cannot bear to lose you, my love, and I feel so helpless when things like this happen, it feels like I always have to wait for others to come to rescue you.”

“Would you like to become a doctor so you are more prepared, then?” He wasn’t expecting that response and snaps his head up to look at you when you laugh. “You cannot control everything that happens to me, Jimin. It is okay to let others help. All I need is for you to stay by my side, your presence is more than enough.” He nods at this, accepting the kiss you plant on his cheek and squeezing your hands.

Long seconds of silence pass as you wait for the doctor to return. Then, a sudden thought pops into your mind that makes you groan aloud.

“Lilian is going to be pissed at me.” You can’t help but chuckle at the circumstances.

“Why is that?”

“I told her to take off today and enjoy her time here, but she was worried about me so she initially refused. I assured her of my health this morning before we left. I can only imagine to look on her face once she finds out what happened.” You do feel a bit bad, Lilian knows you better than anyone and it is clear that she could tell something was off, but you convinced her that her instincts were wrong and now you find yourself in the infirmary. She will surely put herself down over this incident because of her absence when you most needed her.

“You can worry about her after we confirm that you are okay. For now, let us focus on this.” Just then, the doctor enters the room again, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed as you and Jimin look up at them with expectant eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest. You’ve become so used to hearing bad news from doctors, you are almost conditioned to be nervous and guarded around them.

“(Y/n), I have determined the cause of your sudden collapse.” Jimin squeezes your hand tighter and you can feel the sweat on his fingertips. “It appears that you are pregnant! Congratulations! The blood tests showed high levels of-“

“Pardon?” You interject with a raspy voice. Your brain is having a hard time processing the words and you blink slowly for a few seconds, unaware of Jimin’s shell shocked expression. “I- H-how can this be? My physician tested me right before I left and she said I was not pregnant.”

“Well, it is entirely possible to get false negative results, especially when it is early in the pregnancy. I don’t think it reflects poorly on your physician, these things just happen sometimes and are completely out of our control. But looking at my test results and the symptoms you have been experiencing, I am certain that you are about 6 weeks pregnant.”

“B-but I bled last month.”

“For how many days?”

“One or two...”

“Then that was likely implantation bleeding, which is to be expected. Dizziness and even fainting are also fairly common symptoms, so there is no particular need to worry about today’s incident— though I recommend that you make sure to get adequate rest and nutrition to avoid complications in the future. Once again, congratulations.”

Finally, you drag your gaze over to your husband who has been silent since the doctor appeared, and his eyes are filled to the brim with tears when they connect with yours.

“You- (Y/n), you’re finally pregnant!” He whispers, and the way his voice cracks causes the dam to break within yourself and all of your emotions come flooding out. Before you know it you’re wrapped in his embrace, both of you simultaneously sobbing and laughing into each other’s necks from pure joy and surprise as the doctor excuses themselves from the room. It is like all of the building frustration from the past several months has been crushing you slowly and now that weight has been lifted, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time. Jimin feels similarly. He has been holding back so many of his emotions since you first started trying to get pregnant and that has taken a tremendous toll on his mind and body, but for the first time, he can finally release those emotions and let himself feel the heaviness of it all. He is crying harder than you are, soaking the top of your dress as you cradle his head to you and hold him there. His hands ghost over your waist and lower abdomen so delicately, as if protecting the growing life inside of you.

When you’ve both gotten yourselves together enough to allow Jackson and Lena to visit, they rush in without hesitation.

“Is everything okay?” Lena is by your side first, immediately noticing your red and puffy eyes. You’re a little bit hesitant to tell her because you know she’ll gloat about her “sixth sense”.

“Yes, I’m alright. We just found out that I am pregnant.” The room erupts into noise, the two of them sounding like an entire circus as Jackson nearly jumps on Jimin in a bear hug and Lena squeals excitedly beside you.

“I knew it! You dismissed me so offhandedly and it turns out that I was right! I have a sixth sense for these things, you know; you should trust me more often.” Just as expected.

“And here you were, just telling me how worried you were about not yet yielding an heir to the throne,” Jackson throws a heavy arm over Jimin’s shoulder. “I suppose we should celebrate before you depart in the morning. I will throw a lovely ball tonight in your honor!”

“Oh, I must oversee the preparations then! Get some rest, (Y/n), and congratulations again!” And just like that, the couple is gone, rushing back out of the room and leaving you and your husband giggling.

“I am sorry, Lilian.” You apologize for what feels like the thousandth time. She continues to pout as she helps load your belongings into the carriage, barely sparing you a glance.

“I knew I should have stayed; I had a feeling something would happen.” She turns to scowl, not necessarily at you but it is in your direction. “I cannot believe I missed such a huge announcement as well! Both Jackson and Lena found out before me, this is so unfair.”

“You sound like a child,” You snicker, taking Kyungsoo’s hand as he helps you into the carriage behind Jimin.

“Yes, well I think I am allowed to throw a tantrum just this once.” You catch Kyungsoo crack a grin at her, the first time you’ve seen any emotion from him, and it brings a smile to your own face.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kyungsoo found out after Jackson and Lena, too.” Jimin comments, taking your hand and pulling you into his side.

“It does not make me feel better because he still found out before me!”

The sun is still low in the sky but slowly rises as you depart from the kingdom. Once you return to the castle, there are many duties that you must take care of, and many traditional processes you will have to go through now that you are pregnant— you are carrying a possible future heir to the throne after all. But you have never been happier. For now it still feels surreal, even though you have waited nearly a year for this moment, but as soon as the people of your kingdom come to greet you and celebrate the news of your conception, the reality of the situation will hit and you are sure you will be overwhelmed with new challenges. Pregnancy is not an easy thing, but at least you will have Jimin with you to help you through it all, just as he has always done. You rest your head on his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

“So Lilian, how was your date the other night? You seemed rather cozy with that young man at the ball yesterday evening.”

“It was not a date!”

[teacup-set]

Giants

Summary: 'Thank you for the recipe', her note says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does. [SSS family]

Read on: AO3, FFN

x

The sun is low on the horizon and the sky looks like it's on fire. The contrast of the world has shifted, and the aged rust-orange of the hokage tower looks burning red like its early days. The villagers often joke that the sun burns brighter these days because there is a flame-fanning uchiwa in the hokage office, that the will-of-fire that was once a flickering flame is now a ferocious katon. 

In her office chamber, Sarada feels much more muted, heaving under the weight of the faith people put in her. This had always been her dream and she harbored no disillusion about how difficult it is to be hokage. And yet, she is crumbling. The kage summit that she is organizing looms on the horizon, and every half hour there seems to be a new logistical difficulty without fail. Just the administrative nightmare that is hosting the world's most powerful dignitaries in an event that is without a doubt a beacon for those with ill-intent has eaten up all her time. She hasn't even gotten to thinking about the delicate issues and negotiations she has to raise at the summit. She is overwhelmed, but people depend on her so she can't let it show. Part of her wants to run to her parents home, because there she is still a child, free from the weight of the world on her shoulders. There is no time for that though. Her parents, along with the Uzumakis, moved out from Konoha some years ago, choosing to spend their retirement away from the shinobi world in a rural part of Fire country. It would take too long to make the trip, and there is still much to do for the summit. 

Sarada eyes the phone on her desk. 'I could call, I suppose.'

Without thinking about it too much, she dials the number. By the second ring, she remembers to cough and clear her throat lest her voice gives away her frustration. By the fourth, her mother picks up. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, mama!" says Sarada, forcing cheer into her voice. 

"Sarada! How are you sweetie?" Sakura chimes. Already, Sarada feels lighter. 

"I am good, mama. How are you and papa?" asks Sarada, resting her chin on her palm. 

"We are both well sweetheart, though you and the others should drop by once in a while," her mother's voice becomes fainter as she speaks, like she is turning away from the mouthpiece, "Otherwise your father and uncle Naruto will keep trying to fill the void by acting like children themselves." and Sarada imagines her mother is eyeing some mess they have made in the background. She laughs. 

"Okay, okay, I will try to make a trip soon." she concedes. The line is silent for a second. 

"Sarada, is everything okay?" Sakura asks, and immediately Sarada wants to kick herself for thinking she could ever fool her mother. Both her and her papa agree, they could give the whole world the slip, but mama knows them by heart. 

"Yeah, of course." Sarada attempts, and from the silence from the other end she knows she has failed. "It's nothing, mama. Just stressed. The hokage summit is next week and Konoha is hosting." she admits in defeat. 

"Oh darling, that's a lot of work. Are you holding up okay?" 

Sarada wants to refrain from worrying her mother, but it is a chance to finally vent out all that she has been holding in and she is verging on desperate so she bites. 

"I...don't know mama. There is a lot to do." she starts, "I am still trying to take care of all the security measures. There is tension between Kumo and Hoshi, and they will not allow the Raikage delegation to cross into the land of fire." 

"Iwa and Oto have also been bickering. I really hope they will behave at the summit, otherwise I don't know how I'll handle them." she sighs and continues as Sakura patiently listens, "Even beyond the kage summit there is more to do. There have been a few bad harvests near the south east border, and sending provisions from the center's stock takes too long. Most of it rots by the time it gets there. The Fire Daimyo asked the Daimyo of Tea country to help since they are closer, but they refuse. Apparently we have 'a history of not interfering in each other's affairs' and that's how they want to keep it. Can you believe that?" she huffs angrily. 

"Sarada, is this line secure?" Sakura asks, her voice level. 

"Uh, yeah. I am calling from my office." Sarada replies, taken aback by her mother's sudden question. 

"Okay." Sakura begins, "The daimyo is wrong. Fire country and Tea country don't interact because of Tea country's reluctance to interact with nations that have shinobi villages. But during the time Lord Second was Hokage, Tea was experiencing tensions with Sea Country. Something to do with ships from Sea Country intercepting the cargo from Tea, I think? Anyway, they had requested help from Fire country then." 

Sarada sits up straighter, listening attentively. 

"They requested the Leaf to assassinate one of the people involved. They happened to be a higher-up in Sea country's government, and if the responsible party was discovered it would have caused a scandal." Sakura explained, "An ANBU unit was dispatched to take care of it, without any official mission report or paper transaction to make sure it would not be traced. But just in case they were discovered, to ensure that the Leaf would not be held responsible as the perpetrator, the Second kept a signed declaration from the Tea Daimyo sealed away. You should be able to find it in Lord Second's section of the records room. Not only is it proof that Fire and Tea have been involved in each other's affairs, this is information that Tea would very much like to avoid from entering the public domain. It might help you make your case, though I can't imagine how wicked someone would have to be to refuse to feed the hungry." Sakura finishes, sounding angered. 

Sarada is stunned. After quickly jotting down a note to check the records room, she pauses. Then slowly realization dawns. To her, mama is mama. Mama who braids her hair, always overcooks the fish, and doesn't believe in separating laundry by colours. But mama is also Uchiha Sakura. She was trained by two hokage, and was also on the same team as one (-and a half). For the longest time, she was also the director of the hospital and one of Konoha's most prestigious diplomats. There is perhaps no one in the village who has been in and out of the hokage building more than mama has. Of course she would know. Mama always has the answers, after all. 

"I...thank you, mama." Sarada stumbles, still basking in the awe of her belated realization. 

"Shh, sweetheart, don't thank me." from behind her, Sarada hears movement in the background, and then her papa's voice- 

"Who is it?" Sasuke inquires, asking Sakura. 

"It's Sarada, my love." Sarada blushes slightly, still embarrassed by her parents' affections towards each other, as she listens to her mother catch her father up on their conversation. In the next instant, her papa is on the phone. 

"Sarada. There is an alternate route from Kumo to Konoha through a set of islands near Whirlpool. I am sending you a map, await my hawk." her father's steady, reassuring voice carries through the phone. 

Once again, Sarada has to reckon with who her parents really are. Her memories of her father revolve around eating breakfast in the early mornings, packing lunches for mama, and throwing Kunai in the afternoons. But her father has traveled the whole world, and not just this one. He has inherited knowledge from the founder of the shinobi world itself. There is so much in this world that only he knows. 

"I will, papa, thank you." Sarada says, in a daze. 

"Hn." her father replies, satisfied, and then her parents have swapped the phone again. 

"Sweetie, is there anything else we can do?" worry rings in her mother's voice. 

The laundry list of tasks she has to complete is still infinite, but suddenly Sarada's heart is inflated again. She is ready. 

"No, mama, I can handle the rest." she says with confidence. 

She hears the smile in her mama's voice. "Of course you can, love." 

"You're doing a much better job than the idiot." Her father mutters in the background. 

Sarada gazes at her reflection in the window of her office. Staring back at her are her father's eyes, and the purple diamond on her forehead passed down from her mother. Her eyes trail to the hokage regalia hanging next to the door, but instead of feeling daunted, she is reminded of her earliest memory of them. The same cloak and hat, hanging on the back of a dining chair in her childhood home, first when Lord Sixth would come over for dinner, and then Lord Seventh. The same cloak that would hang between her father's dark one and her mother's lab coat, the same place it still belongs. It dawns on her simply. She was born to giants. She was raised by giants. And she is a giant too. 

Her reverie is broken by her mother's voice carrying through the phone. 

"Sarada, have you eaten dinner?" 

Suddenly Sarada wants to burst out laughing. Only her mother could go from delicate, high-risk politics to dinner without a pause. 

"No mama, not yet." she answers, smiling. 

"Sarada!" her mother exclaims, and her father clucks his tongue in disapproval. 

"You must eat, Sarada." her father's stern voice reminds her, and Sarada feels her heart soar. Some things are still simple, and for that she is grateful. 

"Oh, Sarada! Your father and I tried a new silken tofu recipe! You will like it, I am sure. I will send it with your father's hawk!" her mother gushes, then turns to her father, "Darling, do you think we could send some of the cucumbers we harvested, too? They will pair well." 

Her father grunts in approval and already Sarada can hear him walking away, no doubt to ready his bird. 

"We won't keep you anymore sweetie, you have work to do. Just make sure you eat!" her mother chides. 

Sarada wants to tell her, 'You aren't keeping me from anything. I will make time for you always. I love you with all my heart.' Instead she says- 

"Okay, mama. I will see you both soon." because she will, and then she will tell them. 

"Alright then. Bye sweetheart." Sarada savors the cadence of her mother's voice and then the phone disconnects, leaving her in the silence of her office. 

Outside the sun has set, but Sarada's heart is ablaze anew.

x

The hokage summit is completed, treaties are negotiated, the famine is tackled, and just as it always has been, new problems swiftly replace the old ones. Sarada is unflinching, she knows she will solve them, just as she always has. 

She finishes tying an envelope to the messenger hawk she is sending her parents’ way. Inside is a photograph of the silken tofu she made, and a note. 

'Thank you for the recipe', it says, but what she really means is 'thank you for raising me, thank you for making me who I am.' She knows mama will know what she means, she always does.

Fin.

AN: Inspired by the poem “My mother texts me instructions to cook silken tofu” by Sue Zhao, and my general dislike of being grown up. 

[lailoken]

“The Green Sojourn

In many traditions, the procuring of magical plant material from the wild is a rite unto itself, which sometimes reaches its apotheosis in a plant pilgrimage. Rites of ritual harvesting are an essential component to Green Sorcery and the Arte of the Philtre. These mindful praxes are a necessity for harvesting from the wild, and are rendered here as The Protocols of the Green Sojourn.

The first of the Laws of the Green Sojourner is the Protocol of Purity, which demands cleanliness of body, mind, tools, and intent prior to stepping foot in the wild. Every foray into wilderness is Exile, and thereby the domain of Cain. This hallow'd act entails a magical separation from the common, profane world and an entry into Earth Self-hallow'd; it also speicifcally mirrors the perpetual stance of the sorcerer as opposer. Thus awareness of this state of separateness should be cultivated and held at one's centre.

Before sojourning, clarity of intent should be first be formulated. Let the Verdant Magician be well-educated and cunning of craft regarding the species being sought: let all brothers and sisters of Arte discern keenly the status of the plant: know if it be endangered or overharvested; an aggressive introduced species or a precious native one. Knowing the Land is essential. If unfamiliar with the environs, let the land first be scouted, noting impressions received from the Genii Loci , plant communities, and apparent human impact. The Magician's Design should be humbly spoken to the local sprites, followed by an honest read of the place: any work of Green Sorcery can be thwarted by offended Land Spirits. As much as one may desire to harvest from a vigorous patch of Nettles, the Arte will be profaned if ill omens go unheeded and the Tabu of the Wildwood is violated.

As much as the aforementioned considerations of Purity of Intent, cleansing of the Sorcerer's very corpus should commence prior to the Green Sojourn: the Protocol of Purity demands Immaculation , both of the body and the Tools of Arte. For the physium, let a ritual bath be undertaken, as well as a fast. Physically cleanse all regalia by fumigating with smouldering tree-resin or an incense compounded from the plants growing in the locale to be wandered. The Mind may be purified and attenuated by observing that most noble of virtues, Silence. Traditional herb-gathering methods prescribe certain taboos prior to gathering plants, such as avoidance of sexual activity or alcohol. Both of these prohibitions are of incalculable value, chiefly for the homeostasis of the Aethyric Body as a precondition for the Arte Magical, as well as a gesture of devotion and respect. In addition , supplication of one's Grand Famulus prior to The Work is well advised. Finally, the Protocol of Purity demands that the land , and thereby the plants taken from it, be pure. As a general rule, the further removed from the influence of mankind the better, but of course there are exceptions to this, as some Herbs prefer haunts close to the habitation of humans, or graveyards, or amid the ruinous settlements of men long dead. Avoid picking plants by heavily traffick'd roadsides; many Herbs will absorb some of the corrupt principles of these besmirched byways, shun as well ditches fouled by agricultural venoms. Paradoxically, it is plants virtuous in accumulating healthful minerals from the earth, such as Nettle, which also store poisons.

The second protocol, The Protocol of Presence, is a magical obligation of pure and total focus when gathering Herbs, in the Garden as in the Wild. When sojourning into Wasteland and Thicket , the Man of Arte must become as the Wild: elsewise one is an intruder. This requires consideration of the magical goal, namely the Herbs being sought, but also the locus in which they dwell: in this moment, the Sojourner enters Hallowed Ground, stepping into a mansion of many beings. The Sojourn can be interrupted or tainted by the presence of obnoxious and loud persons; avoid them at all costs.

Third is the Protocol of Hailing. Prior to harvesting the Herb, let the Green Sorcerer announce his intent in a respectful way to the individual. A greeting and prayer of request to the plant is largely a matter of the sorcerer's own choosing. There are numerous examples of this from varying magical traditions. From the ancient Graeco-Aegyptians we learn of a curious rite of herb-gathering . It begins with the purifying his body. He then sprinkles natron for purification and circumambulates the plant three times, fumigating the herb with pine resin. The wortcunner then burns the best Kyphi incense, prays, pours a libation of milk, and pulls up the plant while invoking the name “of the daimon to whom the herb is being dedicated and calling upon him to be more effective for the use for which it is being acquired.” The plant is then addressed with the solemn incantation:

You were once known by Kronos, you were conceived by Hera, you were maintained by Ammon, you were given birth by Isis, you were nour ished by Zeus the god of rain, you were given growth by Helios and the dew....As you have exalted Osiris , so exalt yourself and rise just as Helios rises each day. Your size is equal to the zenith of Helios, your roots come from the depths, but your powers are the heart of Hermes, your fibers are the bones of Mnevis, and your flowers are the eye of Horus, your seed is Pan's seed. I am washing you in resin as I also wash the gods even (as I do this) for my own health....I am Hermes, I am acquiring you with Good Fortune and with Good Daimon both at a propitious hour and on a propitious day that is effective for all things.

Following the incantation, the herbalist fills the hole vacated by the plant with seven seeds each of wheat and barley, mixed with honey, then with earth. In the Domain of English Wortcunning, Nigel Pennick reveals a simple, potent, and artful tree-hailing from praxes of East Anglian plant-wisdom, spoken prior to cutting an Aspen branch, which, as noted , can be adapted for any tree:

Karrinder!

Hail to thee, O Aspen tree.

Old lady, give me some of this wood,

And I will give thee some of mine,

When I grow into a tree.

Send your virtue into this branch,

That your strength will flow through it

For the good of all.

Ka!

There is much to be gain'd by tailoring each Hailing individually to suit the plant . Considerations of the character of the Genius, the nature of the magics for which the Herb is intended, and some form of gratitude are paramount.

The Fourth Protocol of the Green Sojourn is The Protocol of Appropriate Harvesting. A clean cut, made with a sharp knife, is far more respectful of the plant than simply tearing off a leaf or a branch. Indiscriminate ripping of parts creates jagged wounds, rendering an Ally susceptible to infections. To assure both hygiene and quality of plant material, clean the blade after each use with strong alcohol.

For cutting, the Tool of Our Arte is the working knife, sometimes called the Knife of the White Hilt, its handle inscribed with the sigils and talismans of the Green Sorcerer's famuli, having, in some traditions, a crescent blade. Better than any knife or sickle, however, is a good hand pruner, duly consecrated to The Work. Such tools are crafted by horticulturists with the health of the plant in mind, and fashioned to cause minimal damage, rather than subjecting an Herb or Tree to the clumsy cuts of a knife. Some traditional wortcunners recommend avoidance of iron blades for this purpose, as iron is thought to offend the plant.

This Tabu of old has some credence, especially as relates to smaller, dainty plants with delicate stems or blossoms such as Violet or Forget-Me-Not. For such worts, iron and steel are perhaps excessive in terms of their metallic potencies. However, the vast majority of horticultural hand-pruners are made with steel, so the possession of bronze, silver, or gold knives must needs arise by the sorcerer's own ingenium and the Good Favour of Tubalo-Cain. It should be remembered that stainless steel, in order to render it incorruptible, contains appreciable amounts of Nickel, Chromium, Vanadium, or Titanium.

Appropriate harvesting for trees is especially important. If taking bark in any significant quantity, attempt to locate a newly-fallen tree, perhaps felled by a recent storm. If such cannot be found, remove bark in small quantities from younger lateral branches. Girdling, that is to say, circumscribing the trunk with a cut, can kill a tree. Leaves from trees should be gather'd in early to late spring, as their Virtues change with the advent of Summer, and they begin producing Bitter Principles to ward off insects. When harvesting branches for wands, avoid cutting branches arising from the dominant trunk; instead, take branches from lateral leaders.

When all plant materials have been gather'd, let them be wrapp'd in silk and put into a bag specially encharmed for carrying freshly-gather'd Herbs. By no means allow the material gather'd to touch the ground, as its sorcerous Virtue escapes downward into the earth and renders the material unsuitable for use in our Arte.

The Fifth Protocol, that of Numbers, governs the amount of material taken. Never harvest an Herb if it is a single individual standing alone. Look for large, well-established populations, and gather variously-aged individuals. Leave the largest and most healthy plant; petitioning this individual directly for specific needs before proceeding to gather, being alert for ill signs.

In general, the following numbers apply to gathering plants in the Wild:

If harvesting an entire plant, a maximum of one tenth of the total individuals in one location.

If stem or root, one sixth of total individuals. When taking roots from perennials, strive for lateral root-branches and leave sufficient vertical and other lateral roots to ensure the plant's survival; cutting too close to a plant's crown can kill it.

If bark, harvest sparing material taken from divers, smaller branches or from trees downed by recent storms. Avoid taking bark from the main trunk of a tree.

If flowers or fruit, harvest from one fifth of total individuals present.

If seed, harvest from one-fifth of total individuals, scattering some of the seed harvested.”

—

Ars Philtron

by Daniel A. Schulke

[rainbowsky]

Final round-up of fan fic asks

I've gotten a few more interesting responses to the fan fic discussion so I'm going to round them all up here. This will be my final post on the topic until/unless there's a dramatic new development, or a particularly notable response I want to highlight. Thanks to everyone who brought their thoughts and experiences to the topic. I hope everyone at least feels heard.

The biggest piece of advice that I would like to offer is for everyone to focus on what they love rather than what they hate. If we all did that, the world would be a better place. Alongside that, I'd like to remind everyone to please support authors whose work you like. It's so important. Give them a kudos, give them a nice comment, recommend their work to others. You never know what kind of grief and harassment they are dealing with to bring you these great stories, and our support means a lot.

This is in reference to previous posts here and here.

Anonymous asked:

With regard to fandom and fan fic issue, my years of experience being part of very large fandoms has led me to believe that big accounts are v important in facilitating and enforcing the general consensus of the whole fandom. Unless there will be big accs who'll remind everyone of being respectful & just not being a dick over other's preferences, nothing will change.

This is also the reason why I think certain solo fandoms have adapted weird and twisted narratives as their general fandom story because no big acc has tried to police them & and say hey pls be rational. Whether we like it or not, in a place where how far voices, ideas, tweets, posts get heard is based on the number of followers you have, big accs will have the power and influence in creating/curating/shifting the narratives.

So, if you want to know why your/our fandom thinks like this in general, look at what big accs are tweeting/posting, look at what ideas & values they follow, look at their preferences or how strongly they react to certain situations. it's taxing and toxic for big accs given the nature of social media these days, but it's also the reality of system, the more followers/audience you have, the more influence you will have.

So to anyone reading this I hope we all practice more restraint and reflection before we post anything. Remember that words, no matter what medium you write it in, will always carry weight.

So true. It is easy - even for myself who spends a fair chunk of time answering people's asks - to forget that people can sometimes be impressionable and what we say can influence people whether that's our intent or not. I get used to thinking of myself as a regular guy just doing my own thing when sometimes my thoughts and words go well beyond where I initially posted them.

I think it's important for us to be careful what we say, and it's equally important to be careful what we take from what other people say. Especially when it comes to big claims. Always get a second, third, fourth opinion and don't be afraid to ask for clarification if something doesn't sit right or sounds confusing.

It's also important to reflect on how our words and actions might affect other people's experience of fandom, and err on the side of 'live and let live' wherever possible. It's great to have our own preferences and to champion them, but we should try to do so in a way that leaves space for other people and perspectives.

The more unique perspectives and the more friendly, open dialog there is, the healthier the community will be as a whole.

There's nothing wrong with encouraging and guiding growth in the particular areas we are interested in, as long as it doesn't step on, oppress or attack those who are peacefully enjoying something different.

Anonymous 2 asked: bjyx fans attacking gdgdbaby for including zsww/lsfy dynamics in an event named bjyx then turning right around and attacking the zsww/lsfy event organizer for excluding bjyx? god, can you hear my facepalm and sigh of resignation and incredulity from over there? im genuinely not surprised that they're trying to drive an entire part of the fandom out by disgusting them (and me) with these immature tactics. i believe what im about to say next will sound quite bait-y and i respect your decision 1/?

should you choose not to post this. but i do know that it is not only me, in fact there are many out there, that is of this opinion. we just dont talk about it on twitter to avoid the potential mess it will bring lol. okay, here goes nothing. (do note that im talking about the majority here, not every single person is like this) so bjyx fans tend to be cishet females whereas zsww/lsfy fans are more diverse in terms of age and gender, and most of them are part of the queer community too 2/?

i would like to clarify that most of these zsww/lsfy fans are not dynamic exclusive (in the sense that they are friendly and interact with all ggdd fans) they just prefer to "identify" themselves as zsww/lsfy fans (on twitter specifically) just to form a distinction from bjyx fans who mostly are dynamic exclusive (as in; they do not consume non-bjyx content, and straightup refuse to interact with non-bjyx fans, often blocking them). as a result, id say that the zsww/lsfy communiy is way more 3/?

mature and respectful (after all, they're mostly queer people talking about a queer ship) whereas many problems in this fandom, such as the homophobia, adamantly insisting on "drawing lines" between dynamics, stem from the bjyx exclusive fans, comprised of cishet females who "may not know better". so, it is of no surprise to me that they're resorting to these immature tactics of calling gg unsavory names, and organizing retaliatory events with controversial topics in an attempt to "purify". 4/4

I trust that you have arrived at that theory through your own experience and observation. I haven't personally spent much time immersed in this stuff so I can't claim to have any real insight or expertise. If you say that's your experience of it, then at the very least that's how you've seen things up to this point.

I just want to say that I think we should always be careful about making assumptions about people's age, gender/gender identity, etc.

There are plenty of good reasons to avoid doing that; because those assumptions could be very wrong, because those assumptions are often laced with ageism, sexism, etc., because those assumptions - even when correct - might not be an accurate basis for the conclusions we draw.

But the primary reason I recommend avoiding those type of assumptions is because anything that enables us to clump a group of people together in our minds like that will tend to make them easier to demonize and dehumanize. They are no longer individuals who are each responsible for their own unique perspectives, they are now 'the X group' who is known for 'A B C series of easily attackable ideas or behaviors'.

If we attribute undesirable traits and behaviors to a group of people we feel opposed to in some way, that makes us feel more righteous and justified in behaving unfairly toward them, dismissing their humanity and warring with them. It's just risky behavior to engage in, even when it's well-intentioned.

There might actually be some truth to what you're saying. It could very well be that most of these people are young, inexperienced, heteronormative, etc. but if that's the case then we should try to use those traits to better understand and empathize rather than to better dismiss and discredit.

Just my two cents on that.

It can be really frustrating dealing with what feels like other people attacking us, trying to oppress us, etc. - especially when there are more of them than there are of us. In my experience the best solutions to that sort of problem are generally the ones that focus on what we are doing and want to do rather than what they are doing that we don't want them to do.

As I am always preaching, we can't control what other people say, do or think. The only thing we have any control over is what we say, do and think (and how we respond to what they say, do and think).

I have found in my experience that the moment I step out of a conflict mindset and instead step into a problem-solving mindset, everything starts to come together. I feel better, my outlook is more positive, I can begin to see solutions and allies rather than problems and enemies, and most of all, I become more focused on what I am doing than what others are doing.

So I would recommend everyone who is invested in resolving these conflicts focus on that. "How can we best showcase and encourage the types of stories we enjoy?" instead of "How can we stop these other people from doing things we dislike?"

Anonymous 3 asked:

Hello again! It’s anon #3 from the fanfic post. I really do appreciate reading your thoughts on various issues like this, so thank you for always taking time to write in depth. As for supporting without going to war, the simplest way has always been to just show appreciation for the creators, hype them up. Kudos are the easiest way on ao3 but comments in addition are great. This goes for all content—art, fics, vids..etc. Creators love to see and read how people react to their content. Sharing is also great, fic recs are very helpful, just be cautious with art and reposting though. Hope this helps a bit!

Thanks so much, Anon. I think this is excellent advice. And it's true that appreciation is great, but helping to expand the audience is also great. Recommending stories, pointing people to the pages/websites of artists we like (as opposed to reposting), sharing our own ideas and approaches, encouraging people to try new things... all of this helps build healthier communities.

And here's another one: WRITE! DRAW! CREATE!

I urge anyone with creative interests or talents to bring their voices to the community because we all can benefit from hearing from you.

Thanks again everyone for sharing your thoughts on this issue. I hope that over time we can all work in positive ways to improve the situation.

I think this subject has been well-covered now so I'm going to retire it for the time being. If anyone still feels they want to discuss it further please feel free to message me privately. Thanks.

[a-monsters-love]

The Air Between Us: Part 1

[Prologue] [Part 1] [Blurb 1] [Part 2] [Blurb 2] [Epilogue]

Zuko x A!Reader:

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mild swearing

Word count: 7742

Time line: Takes place when the Gaang goes to the Fire Lords beach house with Zuko on Ember Island. I changed it from them going to see the play about themselves and go to a circus instead; I extended the time they were on the island to fit everything.

A/N: If your reading this I hope it lives up to any expectations, the prologue got so much more love than I thought it would. This is my first fan fic, the reader was originally written as my DnD OC so I apologize if she’s written wonky. I hope I wrote Zuko’s character well, I was worried I wrote him too OOC but I’ve read so much Zuko x Reader fanfics that I felt like it wasn’t that bad lmao. I am my own proof reader so please message me if I messed something up. Also I don’t know how to write Sokka or Suki’s character, I’ve never met anyone like Sokka and Suki has so little dialogue in the show that I feel like she’s just happy to be there.

(Y/N) = Your name (S/C) = Skin color (H/C) = Hair color (E/C) = Eye color

————

“SSHHUUUUUUU.” A loud, terrifying, growl hissed through the Fire Lords vacation home. Echoing into an almost animalistic growl.

“Ah.” Shu looks over to Katara, ”Sounds like (Y/N) is awake.” Probably also waking up everything else in the greater vicinity. Based on the ferocity in your voice they decide it’s probably best to rush over to the room you’re now resting in.

You’re alone, in a hastily cleaned dust covered room. You don’t know where you are. You aren’t aware of how you got here or what day it is. You’re sticky, you reek of herbs, and everything HURTS. These are facts you listed as you woke up. You hear the softest knocking on the door, “If you are not my brother or with him I will rip you to shreds.” You snarl at the door, it’s been a long time since you’ve been this mad, you can hear the hand that was on the door knob let go and take a step back, not going much further than that. Exhaustion starts taking over but you were determined to stay awake until you received your answers. You hear large familiar foot steps run over to the room you’ve been placed in. When the door finally opens you see your twin brother, Shu with Katara, and a very nervous looking Zuko up against the wall behind them. You determined he was the one you threatened. Your (E/C) eyes flick from the nervous fire bender to your brother, “You’re late and I have questions, little brother.” You hissed menacingly.

——

It’s been less than 24 hours since you passed out. In that time, you’ve managed to win over the Gaang and somehow sort out the choices your brother made for the both of you. Neither of which you disagreed with however you barely remember anything that happened after the end of the fight at the circus. You blacked out, this wasn’t a first, but it was a first from blood loss. Katara has been working on healing your wounds every 4-6 hours, letting the salve do its job before cleaning you as best she could through the fear that you might not have made it otherwise. She looks exhausted.

The night prior, when Zuko escorted you to the evacuation area, the Gaang had received the full disclosure on your wounds, your history, and your goals. During your first healing session you were face-in-lap of the Fire Prince, as he received endless teasing. Katara, all though giving him the ‘all knowing’ look the entire time, was the only person to have his back. You lost so much blood you needed to stay as warm as possible until your body regulated, and what’s a better hot water bottle than a fire bender?

——

“Hey Sifu Hot Water Bottle!” Toph hollered down the hall, Zuko groaned. Knowing he will never be able to live this down, but was it worth having you nuzzle into his lap like a sick turtle duck? Absolutely.

“What, Toph.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms at the tiny earth bender.

“Shu and Katara are getting herbs so you should keep your princess company~” Toph grinned from ear to ear, knowing his reaction, even if she couldn’t feel it through the hardwood flooring.

Zuko’s cheeks flushed brightly at the comment, letting out a forced ‘groan’ in an attempt to get the better of the girl. He, however, quite liked the idea and rolled around options in his head to see if he could do anything for you without needing healer expertise. He decides to prepare tea. He remembered a recipe for a pain killer tea that his uncle had made for him, it tastes like crap but he knew it could help.

Walking up to your door, no problem, walking in? That’s another story. You were passed out, why is he suddenly so nervous? Then he heard it, well he heard you. He’s never heard such a terrifying savage sound escape someone, let alone a person of your stature. He lightly knocked on the door as not to surprise you but received a threat regardless, this was new. “WHAT DID YOU DO??” Toph whisper yells from down the hall, Zuko not wanting to give up his spot, while not disturbing you he throws his hands in front of his chest indicating ‘I don’t fucking know’ quickly remembering she’s blind.

As if saved by the bell, Shu and Katara rushed up the hall to your room, “I didn’t wake her, I got here after the roar.” Zuko whispers before they open the door. He sees your bandaged body and has the desire to help but decides it’s best to stay out of the way. His gold eyes meet your own (E/C) eyes, causing him to remember the night prior, a blush dusts his face and he looks down.

Shu and Katara enter the room, leaving Zuko in the hall. “In or out, princeling.” You state dryly. He decides to walk in and sit against the wall, opposite to your brother and the water tribe girl. Setting down the tea pot he prepared. You can feel warmth radiating from him, Fire bending perks, you noted. “Someone help me into an upright position…please.” Your tone changes, almost begging for help. You’re tired and in pain and in need of answers. Zuko and Shu both gently help you lift yourself from laying on your chest to sitting upright. Zuko grateful for the bandages looks into his hands after letting go of you. Katara hands you a cup of tea. You look between the healer and Shu, “So… I barely remember anything after the battle at the circus, please fill me in..” You take a sip of tea without even flinching at the taste, to Zuko’s surprise.

“What?? What’s the last thing you remember?” Katara seems mind blown by the idea and Zuko looks as if he’s the one who lost too much blood.

You sip your tea slowly and tilting your head back and fourth trying to stitch together the memories. “Well, we trapped all the Fire Nation soldiers, Shu and I high-fived and that’s when things started getting hazy,” You stopped and tried to pull pieces to your mind, “I had said.. something to you guys and then my legs went weak and Zuko caught me.” You pointed at him, your ears turned red at the thought. “After that, nothing. Last time I blacked out that bad was in Omashu, like 2 years ago, and that was a party.” You ramble on, still a bit delirious from blood loss and medication.

Katara watches you, thinking over your condition. “Well, you did lose a lot of blood, if we knew sooner then maybe we could’ve done something.” She shakes her head and looks between the two boys before explaining the context of the night prior. She then comments that neither you or Shu gave goodbyes to anyone before you left, which she found weird.

You and Shu exchange looks, and erupt in laughter. To the shock of both Katara and Zuko, who found himself confused but smiling seeing you laugh. You groaned and held you sides, laughing hurt. “We’re circus kids, don’t worry about ‘goodbyes’ we have our means. Since we left them that means Auntie and Uncle are probably retiring.” You move your attention to your brother, “Did Uncle give you anything?” You finished your tea putting the cup down for a refill. You let a small shiver consume you.

“He gave me a box and told me to open it when your up and-or well,” He rolls his eyes. “Whatever that means.” He leans over and refills your glass.

“We’ll need that in the up coming war, so don’t lose it,” You seem back to you matter-a-fact like self. Looking back to Katara, “What’s the status on my wounds?” You ask, picking up your cup for another sip.  

She sighs, “It should only take a couple more sessions for it to not hurt so bad and to get you up again” She looks at the ground almost in an ashamed way, she glances at Zuko briefly while choosing her words. “I wasn’t able to prevent the scarring, you will forever have a large scar that stretches from the middle of your back up your neck and down your shoulders to both your hands.”

The room is quiet from Katara statement, you can feel the tension from her words. Noting the look she sent the scarred prince but keeping a calm face you nod, “Well, that’ll look badass.” Taking another sip of tea, “I wonder if it’ll be a problem with Aangs training, Air Bending masters get tattoos, right?” You start thinking aloud. You shrug at the thought, “Well, either way, when can we get to the next healing session? Because I’m cold and everything hurts and I’m hungry, this tea is helping but I can’t eat in this condition.”

Katara smiles brightly at your quick resolve and ushers the boys out to start the healing session. Zuko was replaying how quickly you came to a resolve about your scar in his head not noticing Katara trying to get his attention. “Hey.” You snap your fingers close to his face, causing a small breeze. “Are you gonna watch or are you gonna leave? I have to strip for this.” Zuko’s face was immediately red at the thought of what you just said and stumble-ran out of your room. And so, your first session while awake starts. Followed by every curse word and obscenity you can imagine escaping your mouth. This isn’t healing, this is assault!

Due to the depth of the wounds and the concern of Katara, you had multiple ‘healing sessions’ throughout that day. The day following you were up and running again, for the most part. You found yourself mostly watching Zuko and Aang train, much to Zuko’s dismay but he took note of the a light blush that dusted your face and he redness of your ears when he took his shirt off. He started taking it off earlier in his matches with Aang to see if he can get a reading out of you. Your angelic poker face is not something he could win against. That small smile is constantly plastered on your face.(*1)

However much you enjoyed seeing him with his shirt off, you enjoyed studying their sparring session more than anything. Both Zuko and Aang had multiple different influences in their bending, there are time Zuko’s moves look like that of a water bender. You have never seen anything like it, however you’ve only ever practiced with Shu, an earth bender, so you weren’t one to talk. You asked Aang the occasional question about air bending basics. Things to practice so you can find the middle ground you needed to have control of your bending better. You sit on the patio while they trained practicing your control, letting Aang correct you when needed.

——

“What about bending? When can I start fully practicing that?” You ask Katara while making a fresh pot of jasmine tea, it’s one of your many favorites.

Katara hums at the question, “You should be okay for now. BUT!” She looks you in they eyes. “No heavy lifting, and no going past your limits. If you start feeling sore or exhausted you must take a break.” You almost spat at the statement but stifled your laughter, you’re an air bender. Is air heavy? You jokingly thought, knowing how hilarious that sounds.

“Awesome,” You cough to hide your ongoing laughter. “Can you help me then? I want to change to practice.”

Katara agreed and followed you to your room. She had tied your (H/C) hair back, neater than you’ve ever tied it. You’re still in full bandage but you have a halter top exposing your bandaged midriff, and your most comfortable short harem pants, you liked the way they hugged your hips and sat comfortably at your knees. You walk out barefoot to the training grounds to Toph, who almost hit you with a boulder. “Hey, lightfoot! At least make sure you have a presence for me, you could’ve been back in bed!” She scowled in your general direction, “Katara would’ve blamed me!” She huffed.

You make sure both feet are flat to the ground and walk to the girl, “Could you help me with something?” At Aangs references and Sokka’s bad memories you try to describe the Airball court and the type of game that was played in it. “If we make one out of stone you can ‘watch’ me and Aang play and it’ll give me good practice to handle my air bending without creating an actual tornado or by using my fans.” Toph rolled the idea around in her head, “If we get a fire proof ball we can get Zuko in on the game?” You further suggest.

Almost like a light bulb goes off in Toph’s head she lights up, “(Y/N)! You’re a genius!” She runs off to look for the ideal location.

You go find Aang, catching him before he starts his sparing session, “Hey, Aang!”

Aang sees you calling and perks up, “Hey (Y/N), what up?” The young nomad asks, meeting you halfway.

“Okay, so,” You clap your hands together holding them in front of your chin. “Can Airball be played with 3 goals or does it have to be 2?” Your (E/C) eyes are almost glowing at the question throwing the boy for a loop, you’re finally acting more like yourself again.

“Well, since Air Nomads are traditionally pacifists I’d say only 2 goals to avoid having 2 teams ganging up on 1 team.” He smiles remember the times he played back in the Southern Air Temple, then his brow knit. “Why do you ask?” (*2)

You smile putting your hand on his small shoulders, “I’m having Toph use her bending to build an Airball court so I can practice my bending and I thought it could give you and Zuko a different type of field to spar on.” That last part you made up on the spot but it is a valid option. Aangs face lights up, “Do you want to grab Zuko and show me the ropes?”

You both grab Zuko, and a random empty metal box from the vacation house. He begrudgingly follows, being pulled hand in hand by two Air Benders, what has my life come to? He thought to himself while not shaking off either hand so he can keep holding yours. Aang explains the game rules and how it’s played on the way.

You follow the noises of the court being built by Toph and you hear her call, “(Y/N)! What were you thinking to use for the ball??” You can see she had stone and river rock options behind her however you didn’t want to risk the damage to you or Zuko. (*3)

“How ‘bout this?” You hand her the metal box, “If you metal bent it to the shape of a ball we can leave it hollow so it’ll be easier to move for me as an ‘inexperienced’ air bender and for Zuko who will have to use his flames to actually propel it.”

You can see Toph physically frown, “Hey, I’m not an earth bender, and as much as I wouldn’t mind taking responsibility if he got hurt, throwing boulders at him is not in my job description.” You both laugh and Toph agrees. You suggest Aang and Zuko use the court first for training then you can get to the game.

Toph has lifted a platform to the height of the court, “You’re pretty good at staying balanced on moving boulders.” She comments.

“Yeah, well, having a giant but strong Earth Bender for a twin your whole life does wonders for your balance.” You joke, pushing your elbow into Toph who is trying to stifle a smile at the mention of Shu.

While watching the boys jump around so gracefully reminds you a lot of the circus. You feel a bit sad at the thought and Toph picks up on it. “What’s wrong, lightfoot?”

You don’t hate the new nickname as much as the others seem to hate theirs, you lean back a bit on the platform holding your knees to keep your balance. “I was trained in all sorts of circus and show performances, piano, guitar, gymnastics, acrobatics, juggling, tight rope walking, and contortionism-“

Toph would have spat out her drink if she had one, “YOU’RE A CONTORTIONIST?” She gaps at you causing Zuko to blush, losing his balance and Aang to give him a big stupid grin.

“Ah-well-“ You stammer, blushing hard because no one outside of the circus ever seemed to be interested in the things you trained in. “Ye-yeah I was trained in all sorts of things-“ You look down at your knees to avoid making eye contact with the boys and not wanting to look at Toph, regardless of her being blind. “Watching them dance around reminds me of home.” You chuckle sadly.

Toph talks your head off with all sorts of questions about the circus and what you can do, once your embarrassment subsides you find yourself passionately talking about it. Before you realize it, the boys are done sparring and Aang asks if you’re ready.

You nod and hop to the court, trading places with Zuko. You accidentally bump your shoulder with his arm causing him to grab your hand in case you slipped, sending a hot sensation up your arm from where he held you. You smile softly and embarrassed “Sorry.” You rub the the back of your neck and squeeze his hand.

He lets go quickly. “Ah, yeah.” He stammers, “It’s fine, (Y/N).” Shooting a subtly smile back. You blush loudly, realizing this is the first time he’s said your name to you. You scurry to get to the center of the court.

“S-sorry if this isn’t as great as the courts you had at home. My instructions were vague.” You tell Aang, he shakes his head with a smile, he doesn’t care he’s just excited to play. You practice spinning the make shift ball in a web of air. Before throwing the ball at Aangs hoop.

——

The game starts between (Y/N) and Aang, and Zuko can’t take his eyes off of you. You don’t look like someone who can’t control their bending. Just watching you spin, flip and dance around from post to post is like a choreographed show. Even when you throw or kick the ‘ball’ consumed by air. “So, when are you gonna ask her out, Sifu hot water bottle?” Toph snickers, getting a general idea of the game, enjoying it none the less.

“What? What are you talking about?” Zuko scowls at the girl who just sarcastically snaps her neck in his direction.

“Really? Dude, your attention is on her every move and reaction.” Toph cheers loudly for you, making you a bit embarrassed missing your footing. You slip off the beam you aimed for but you push off the side of it just to hop on the top of another, Aang claps saying you’re a natural. “See, your heart rate just spiked at a little slip. Just ask her out, the worst she can say is no right?” Toph shrugs suggestively, “Maybe she likes you back.”

Zuko scoff at these comments before actually thinking about them. “Shut up.” Toph laughed and punched him in the arm. “What was that for!”

Toph smiles, “Thats how I show affection.” Her face beamed as she moved to the ledge of where they sat and waved at the on coming footsteps.

——

Aang has 3 points on you and you haven’t even scored yet, to anyone else you’d say it’s fine, it’s the first time you’ve played. You on the other hand are fairly competitive, and according to Aang you seem to have the rules down. You have the ball in your hand now and decide to throw all cation to the wind, literally in this case. You air bend something close to a funnel weaving around the posts and throwing the ball into it. Your hand twirling lightly to keep it moving. This does not work as planned, as the funnel created so much momentum that the metal make shift ball flattens to the stone hoop. You gasp putting your hands on your temples, “Oh spirits!”

Aang laughs a little too hard, Toph laughs while grumbling about ‘all her hard work.’ Zuko lets out a chuckle, this embarrassed you but your glad he seems to be having fun watching the mess you call a match end. “That was great (Y/N)! I’ve never seen you have that much control with your bending!” You hear Shu say, you didn’t even realize the rest of the Gaang had made their way to watch.

“I was trying so hard to be delicate, agh why don’t I know how to be delicate!” You groan, “I couldn’t even make one shot!” Ruffling you’re hands in your hair.

“There’s the competitive little sister I know,” Shu snorts, you made a tiny ball of air at the tip or your finger and shot it at him, hitting him in the center of his forehead. You laugh anyway.

“I can control little things and big things with my bending, the in between is where it gets hard.” You stretch letting out a barely audible whimper from your burn wounds.

“Hey, that was a lot better than I remember from first time Aang made me and Katara play,” Sokka snorts.

The only one who heard your whimper was Zuko, but that’s because you never lost his attention. Which annoyed him to no end when you were unconscious, but now? He just felt lighter having you around. He couldn’t pin down why, maybe it was the way your laugh was contagious, or that you always knew how to say the right thing? Even when it wasn’t directed at him. Somehow your flaws made you more wonderful to him. Competitive? Generally sarcastic while sounding like an Angel? Even when you’re cranky he wants to be around you. He just liked it, a lot more than he anticipated. He thought at first he wanted to be more like you, now maybe it’s not that.

He let the thoughts run around his head as the Shu and Toph earth bend the platforms everyone was sitting on back into the ground. You head back with Aang, Zuko and Toph, who was dragging Shu by his hand, talking about the game and how to improve the court. Aang laughed explaining that it’s great for training but Airball posts were general made of soft woods, you face palm at that lack of knowledge. Letting out another small whimper from your wound. Zuko hesitates but decides to put one of his hand gently over top the biggest part of the wound. With his generally high internal temperature he figured the heat might help. Your back stiffens in surprise and he starts to pull away, you grab his forearm gently indicating that it’s okay and look over towards him. You mouth the words ‘Thank you,’ your general angelic poker face now replaced by something more relaxed and dusted with blush, you look away hoping he doesn’t notice that your ears turning red. He does.

——

Later that evening everyone was heading to bed, you were more sore than you let on but you weren’t tired. You’re finally starting to feel some energy come back to you after ‘working out’ today. You couldn’t do your normal stuff but you weren’t upset, understanding the situation. Katara was the last person you said good night to after she helped you bathe, you had your healing session in the water. Now with a fresh pot of jasmine tea you sat on the porch staring at the scenery, less than a week ago you lived such a hodgepodge lifestyle with the circus. Albeit this is temporary, you couldn’t imagine your life any other way at this point. You hear soft foot steps come from behind you, you pay no mind until you hear them speak. “You know, you should probably have a blanket or something with you, it’s cold in the evenings here.” It’s Zuko, you smile up at him and offer him tea. Seemingly ignoring his comment about the weather you pat your hand at the space near you, suggesting he sits.

He sits down and pours himself a glass, jasmine. His favorite, he wonders if you knew. “Jasmine tea is one of my favorites,” You say.

“Really?” He sips the tea, and watches you. Your seemingly angelic demeanor is gone, you look like you’re in your own world now.

“Well, actually I haven’t met a tea I didn’t enjoy.” You chuckle and hold the glass in your hands to keep yourself warm, you were relishing in the cold but for some reason now you craved warmth. Maybe since he pointed it out? You don’t think too long on it, you focus on your breathing. Aang taught you a special breathing technique that all Air Benders use to regulate their body temperature. “There is an older gentleman who would visit my aunt and uncle when our travel schedules aligned, he made the best tea.” You smile into your cup, “He’s the one who actually taught me how to make tea.” You chuckle, knowing you’re not nearly as good as him. A shiver overcame you.

You made him think of his Uncle Iroh, he has a lot of regrets to work through regarding that matter. Zuko looks down and adjusts the teapot, scooting closer to you after noticing your small shivers.

“You remind me of myself in a lot of ways.” You said, still taking in your surroundings. Zuko didn’t understand the statement, that was clear on his face when you glanced over to him, not realizing you’re start to lean towards his warm arm. “For an assortment of reasons.” You start to explain. “You always come off as super grumpy and quiet, but you’ve never seemed grumpy to me. Earlier you were the only one to notice I was sore. It felt amazing and honestly I was just grateful you didn’t make a scene about it.” Zuko thinks on this for a bit, realizing that the angelic demeanor you have is a facade, this was (Y/N), and outside of maybe your brother it seems like he’s the only one you’ve shown your true self to. Regardless of the reason, Zuko smiles softly.

Now realizing your arm is leaning up against his. “Great Spirits you’re warm!” You cover your mouth realizing how loud that might’ve been. You chuckle.

Zuko laughed quietly and leaned back into your arm, “Fire Bending perks.” He said, he felt embarrassed touching you earlier but for you to say it felt amazing? He blushed hard thinking about it, grateful for the night sky.

“I knew it.” You murmur playfully as you sip your tea.

You pull back from Zuko’s warmth to stretch, groaning.

He hesitates to ask, “Does it hurt?” He wants to touch you, maybe this fire in him is good for something.

You sit back next to him, maybe a little closer than before. Trying to consume his extra heat, “Of course it hurts, but the pain isn’t something to be bitter over.” You bump his leg with your knee at the comment.

Hesitantly he moves the arm pressing against you and leans on it now close behind you. Your arm now touching the side of his abdomen and his arm touching your back, with his hand on the floor. He doesn’t respond. You lean into his side thinking, “Yes, it was a terrible thing that happened to me, but there’s no changing it and the pain is temporary. Why should I be bitter about it? That only makes the aggressor look powerful.” You know you both have terrible scars, yes yours is bigger but yours isn’t on your face. You thought to yourself. “Those who attack people smaller or weaker than themselves are nothing but cowards.” You mumble. Zuko leans his side into you, as a sort of silent response. You stayed like this for sometime before deciding his warmth is making you sleepy. “Has anyone ever told you, you make people sleepy?” You yawn at him.

A smirk raises to one side of his mouth, “Just once,” Remembering your face nuzzling into his lap the night you collapsed.

You raise an eyebrow but don’t question him, you smile though. “Well here’s a second, your natural warmth is cozy and I’m getting sleepy.” You got up to head to your room, when Zuko gently grabs your bandage covered fingers.

“I-uh, usually have a hard time sleeping,” He admits. “If you ever have a hard time sleeping you can come sit with me.” He was looking at your hands sadly, as if they received the worse kind of treatment.

You giggle, knowing you’re always out here before him. You squat down to his level from standing and give him a soft smile, “I naturally don’t sleep much so you can always come get me if you’re lonely.” You squeeze the hand that’s still holding your fingers before making your way to your room. Your skin is buzzing from where his heat once was. “You know where to find me.” You flick your hand up in a lazy peace sign.

——

At lunch the next day Toph and Sokka were trying to figure out who was the oldest twin. “Seriously, who’s the oldest.” You and Shu move in unison looking from each other to Sokka.

“Yeah! You keep calling each other older or younger! What’s the deal.” Toph pouted next to Shu, as she continued eating.

You twins laughed, “Ancient family secret.” You both said.

“Come on, Toph!” Sokka continues, “One of them has to be lying!” The two started to bicker. Suki and Aang can’t stop laughing from you and Shu doing and saying everything in unison, from blinking to eating. This was something the two of you had perfected at a very young age.

You and Shu glance at Aang, “You okay, Sifu Twinkle Toes?” You both go, the room erupted in laughter.

——

The days continued like this. Aang would give you something to practice, you started training with Toph or Katara. Shu and Toph started to trade training tips on metal and magma bending or would practice sand bending together on the beach. You had your healing sessions and a bath afterwards and once the sun was down and everyone was off to bed you started spending your evenings with Zuko.

You always seem to be waiting for him, you decided rather than staying awake in your room to just sit on the patio. Part of you didn’t want to wait to see if Zuko would actually come find you. You heard him walk up on cue, “Tonight’s tea is chamomile.” You say tilting your head towards him. He wore just a shirt and loose shorts, you imagine these are his pajamas.

He smiled and sat in the same position he had the night prior, arm around your back hand on the floor and the side of his abdomen pressing firmly against you. You poured him a cup this time. The two of you would talk for sometime before retiring to bed.

——

One night Zuko found his way to the patio and you weren’t there, he waited where he usually sat with you for some time before he realized the tea pot was gone. He walked to your room, lightly knocking before opening the door. You weren’t there. A sort of panic washed over him, he decided to look around for you before alerting anyone you were gone. Zuko walked down to the beach when he found foot prints, a sigh of relief left him when he found you sitting in the sand. Knees pulled to your chest, face down, cold tea pot and cup sitting next to you. He watched you for sometime before deciding to walk up. “So this is where you’ve been.”

A small sniffle comes out as you wipe your face, “Ah- Yeah.. Sorry..” You force an awkward chuckle. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t sure you were looking at anything when you finished wiping your eyes.

Zuko sat down beside you, he wasn’t good at comforting people. He tried to think of something his uncle would say if he knew you. “My uncle told me once, that sometimes the best way to solve your own problems is to help someone else.” He spoke quietly, not really sure how to help. “I don’t really know how to comfort people but if there’s anything you need, you can ask..”

A small smile made its way to your face, you were pretty sure he had no idea what that statement meant. “I just uh-“ You looked up at the sky, “I feel guilty. And shameful.” You mutter. You could tell he was confused by this statement but you didn’t say anything for sometime. “You heard my families history, Jesa had an excuse. Sure it wasn’t a good excuse but..” You trailed on. Your voice was getting louder and more shaken with every word. “I was always so ashamed of my bending because it put my family in danger. I was ashamed that my family didn’t fight to defend the air nomads!” The air started stirring aggressively around the two of you. Tears started bubbling up in your eyes again and you pushed yourself from the ground. Zuko grabbed at your hand. You roared at the ocean in front of you, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, bending so much force in frustration waves flew up high before crashing down as you fell on your knees in front of Zuko.

His eyes wide, jaw slacked at the raw power you possessed. He’s never seen Aang use his air bending in such an aggressive manner. You were squeezing his hand, this pulled his attention from what you had just done. He squeezed your hand back before gently pulling on it, coercing you to come closer. You did, you ended up in his lap. You were between his legs that wrapped around you, your knees pulled up, leaning your side and head against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his chin your head. Zuko hushed you until you calmed, and the air around you two had settled into the stale ocean breeze.

His warmth calmed you, he didn’t have to say anything. You’re frustrated with yourself, you didn’t realize you’d bottled up so much. You buried your face into Zuko’s chest, “I feel guilty for being..-“ You hesitated, “For being so happy. Knowing my people have been eradicated.” This stings Zuko’s heart and he just holds you tighter.

Zuko’s history plays through his head, finally understanding what you had meant the other night. ‘You remind me a lot of myself’ you told him. He tilted his head down, pressing his nose and mouth against the top of your head. “Maybe that’s why your family made it. Because of what-“ He thinks of how to put it, “the Fire Nation did to your people. So that you could be happy, so that you could be here and build your people up again when this horrible war ends.” He didn’t know, but you were quiet.

You moved and held onto his bicep that rested between your thighs and bust, you’re both tired and wide awake now. (Y/N) never thought about it that way. That maybe being here, after everything, was your destiny and not just a selfish desire. You squeeze his arm softly, “Thank you, Zuko.” You mumble.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of the night. Not when Zuko heated up the tea pot and your glass, not about you staying in his lap. You both had the nights events and words playing in your head. Zuko realized what his uncle told him was right. Zuko told you what he needed to hear.

——

Zuko was always the last to sleep and the first awake, these were old habits he couldn’t break. However he didn’t mind it so much since (Y/N) has been around, you’re like him. Last to sleep first to rise, at first it was a constant surprise as you’d daze around the kitchen making tea at dawn. Your pajamas leaving very little to the imagination. A short but loose fitting top and loose shorts. Your bandages helped him not look like a bigger fool than he felt he already was. You never teased him about it though, you always just offered a smile. This house was starting to feel like a home again. The early mornings and the evenings were becoming his favorite time, these were times when you were yourself and when you leaned on him. You did this more than he mentally prepared himself for, the first time you did it was when Zuko was preparing tea for the morning, you lazily made your way into the kitchen and poked around him realizing he was doing what you had planned to start. You ended up leaning against his back while holding on to the edge of his shirt and commenting about the warmth before moving to pour yourself a glass of tea. The mornings that followed that one he started to notice you’d seek him out in a tired stupor. Clinging onto him regardless of what he’s doing, warming yourself up for the day, before making yourself a glass of tea and walking off.

He’d watch your beautiful figure laze around with your tea until you found the patio and sat down. You always manage to look back at him with your bedroom eyes expectantly. This always causes him to blush but he makes his way over and sits with you. He’ll watch you from the corner of his eye as you start to wake up.

He missed your presence during his training sessions but was always able to catch a glimpse as you train with one of the girls. Your control over your bending was exceedingly better than it had been when you first met.

“So. Sifu ‘hot water bottle’” A voice says mockingly. Zuko scowls and tears his attention from you and turns around to see Shu. His expression quickly dropped, not wanting to get on your brothers bad side.

“Uh, hey Shu.” Zuko says nervously, “What’s up?” He starts rubbing the back of his neck trying to temporarily purge what happened at the beach from his mind, you letting him wrap you up in his arms and lap was engraved in him. Shu waves him over to follow him.

He follows him until they’re out of your line of sight, “If you like my sister you’re going to have to fight me first.” Shu states pointedly and crosses his arms.

“Wait-wait. What??” Zuko throws up his hands, “I don’t want to fight you, we’re uh,” He stops at the word but shakes his head. “We’re friends, sparring is one thing but I can’t just fight you.”

Your brother flares at him and slides his foot, bending just enough earth under Zuko to knock him down. “I’m not just going to hand my sister, whose like,” He throws his hands up. “An international secret! To someone who can’t protect her!” Shu hisses. This is fair.

His glare drops and he offers a hand to help Zuko up, confused at the quick demeanor change until he hears you talking to Katara and walk past the scene. “Think about it.” Shu quietly hisses before walking away. Zuko stood there dumbfounded for quite some time.

“Your healing session today will be the last for your arms,” Katara tell you. “Your back will take some time but unless the wound gets struck again you shouldn’t have to worry about it opening on its own.” This was the best news you’ve had in some time. You can start actually exercising again.

That night, Zuko was the first to the patio. You stared at him for a bit, something about the moonlight hitting him makes your stomach flop about. You finally walk towards him, realizing he looks uncomfortable. “You okay?” You ask as you sit down beside him.

He looks over at you, he doesn’t say anything but just stares. Examining the lack of bandages on your arms and the concern in your face before speaking. “I’m trying to take all the right steps to make right all the wrongs I’ve done.” He looks away.

You keep looking at him, the gaang has already told you about their history with Zuko when you and Shu asked them how Team Avatar came to be. Zuko hands you a cup of tea before continuing, “I did some- a lot.. of awful things that I can’t take back. I can’t even apologize to my uncle for betraying him.” This statement causes Zuko to put his face in his hands. “He probably hates me now.”

That statement stings you, you’ve only ever seen the Team Avatar version of Zuko. You hesitate but decide to put your hand on his back, running your hand up and down his spine, making shapes with your fingers. “That might be true,” He flinched at this comment. “However. If you can get a group of people you literally tried to kill, to actually like and appreciate you and to care about you. I doubt it’ll be too difficult to get someone who’s always loved you to forgive your actions.” You smile and lean your head on his shoulder still rubbing his back. “From what you’ve told me and what I’ve heard from the others I can imagine he’ll be so proud of you for doing the right thing.”

Zuko doesn’t reply for sometime, replaying the words in his head. Replaying what he told you at the beach. He did do the right thing, he has changed. But what if it’s too late, he wants to ask but he already feels foolish for his actions. He lifts his head and looks over at you before resting his cheek on your head. “You don’t think it’ll be too late to apologize?”

You straighten up and smile at him, and cup his face with your hands. “If you truly mean it when you apologize then it’ll never be too late.” You leave a small kiss on his cheek and then smile at him. Zuko pulls you into him, holding one hand firmly around your shoulders and one around your waist. This caused you to gasp but he doesn’t let go. He needs this, you think. Hugging him back with your arms around his neck and a hand brushing his hair with your fingers till he’s ready to let go.

As much as he needed a hug the second he hugged you he was extremely embarrassed. Embarrassed that he wanted to pull you into his lap again and not let go. Especially after you kissed his cheek. He feared letting go as you would see his blushing face. Not realizing you can feel his blush as his body temperature rose. It wasn’t until you held him back and pet his hair that he started to savor the moment, engraving it in his mind before letting go and looking at the sky. You watched him carefully, you wanted to kiss him more and find all the reasons as to why everything would be fine. “Your brother told me I have to fight him.” Your face snapped away from his, you knew what this meant, but why would Shu say that to Zuko? Why wouldn’t he talk to you first? Did he tell Zuko how you feel? You were panicking.

(Y/N)’s ear are red, Zuko noticed. She seems embarrassed. Was she embarrassed of Zuko? Was it her brother? Or something else? He couldn’t get a read from you, “D-Did he say anything, ah,” You started. “About me, uh, when he did..?” You couldn’t make eye contact with him.

His face turned bright red, yes the whole thing was about you! He’s thinks your embarrassed about your brothers actions. “Well, ah,” he stammers, “I kind of, uhm, brought it upon myself.” You both look away from each other. “He told me to think about it.”

You sigh putting your red face in your hands, “I am so sorry.” You groan. Embarrassed that you thought this was about you.

“No no it’s not your fault!” He stammers, “We should uh, we should head to bed.” You nod at him and take the hand he offers to get up.

Your fingers touch his as he walks you to your room, “Uhm. Good night Zuko.” You smile and whisper to him as you separate, he watches you as you disappear behind your door. He wants to follow you in, realizing what you mean to him.

When he got to his room he closed and slid down the door. “Good night, (Y/N).” He sighed, “What am I going to do.”

——

A/N:  Holy smokes, guys! We made it through Part 1! If you’d like to be tagged in this series please feel free to message me or comment on this post! Here are my starred notes: (*1) Imagine that customer service face we all have, you know the one (*2) When I wrote this line for Aang it ended up destroying my whole plan for the rest of this scene because I was like “Shit Aang would actually say something like that” (*3) Did you know river rocks explode when they get too hot?

Tag List:

@coalsmind @bucky-blogs @fanficflaneuse @cutiepoo16 @eridanuswave @grapesauze @theblueslytherin @coolpenguingoddess @royahllty @whalerus @shewritesseashells @lammello @ditu-m9 @kryptidkova @gxrleexis-arctic-monks

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Berry Blast

Berry Blast Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: TodoMomo Summary: TodoMomo Positivity Week Day 3 Prompt Fill: Direct partner piece for my previous day fill [here] but can be read as a stand alone. After agreeing to an anniversary picnic, Momo begins stressing about what she should bring along. She isn’t exactly the most domestic of women, after all. Thankfully, she has a little bit of help of her own to get things sorted out. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

When Shoto had first suggested to Momo that they spend their first anniversary having a little picnic together, she’d been delighted. The idea of the two of them settling in for a homemade lunch together was something straight out of one of the shojo mangas Mina and Tooru had gotten her hooked on! And to think that Shoto had insisted on preparing all the food himself? Well, that had her swooning all over again. After all, what could possibly be sweeter than a boyfriend preparing a humble lunch for his girlfriend?

And then the thought struck her; shouldn’t she bring something as well?

Drinks seemed simple enough, so she made a note in the back of her mind to pick some up on her way. That, however, seemed far too simple. And impersonal. She wanted to do something just as sincere and thoughtful as what Shoto was doing for her! Then, her mind jumped over to the idea of sweets. They were the most frequently offered gift when a young lady was interested in a young man. That thought then led her to the conclusion of dessert. Why, she could surely bake something to bring along! A homemade dessert would be a perfect partner to a homemade picnic lunch!

And so, she got to work!... And very quickly hit a few roadblocks.

Her initial thought was to make something like a strawberry shortcake. She remembered that Shoto enjoyed that strawberries were a mix of sweet and tart. He liked sweet things on occasion, but he had expressed that too much tended to give him an upset stomach. She had picked up the ingredients but then read another article online that expressed that the one-year mark was something that warranted going that extra little bit to make it even more spectacular, that often times this anniversary could make or break a relationship.

So she cast that idea aside and decided to try something different.

Upon looking into things more, she selected macarons, as they could be various flavors and colors, meaning she could customize them as she wanted. She encountered trouble with separating the egg whites and then with consistency issues. She scrapped that and then moved on to making chocolate souffles. She tried two separate batches but couldn’t get them to rise properly, regardless of what she tried. Momo changed gears at that point and decided to pick a treat that was a testament to her partner; baked Alaska! She had figured that he could be able to safely set the treat on fire once they were actually ready for it. However, when she tried to bake in the ice cream, it completely melted. And that wasn’t even covering the problems she encountered trying to prepare the meringue for the dish!

So, then she decided to try a lemon meringue pie instead. That, she reasoned, would also be a bit more Shoto’s style, as it was a better blend of sweetness and tartness. She had heard that pies could be incredibly tricky to an untrained hand, but she wasn’t worried. After all, it couldn’t be half as hard as fighting villains or training under Aizawa-Sensei! She had done those things with the greatest of ease so she could rise to this occasion!

Or so she’d thought when she started. Instead, she ended up hunched over the counter, on the verge of frustrated tears, unable to miss the whispers of the kitchen staff just outside the kitchen proper.

“Should we be concerned?”

“That’s, what, the fourth attempt she’s made?”

“Well, at least this time she didn’t set anything on fire?”

“No, instead she just managed to under cook it to the point it’s more liquid than anything else. Like, it is as runny and drippy as my son’s nose gets when he’s got a cold,”

“Oh, hush! The young miss is trying her best!”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, taking a deep breath to calm herself and try to block out the commentary. Yes, she didn’t have a lot of experience with baking, but it couldn’t be that hard! Sato-Kun at school baked all the time and never had nearly as much trouble as all this! He made treats like these for their peers all the time! That was many more people than she was aiming for! So… Why? Why couldn’t she get this right?

She jumped when there was a gentle hand patting at her head, followed by a familiar voice asking, “Now, what’s all this, Momochi?”

Momo pushed herself up and looked at the older man beside her in shock. “Father… I thought you and Mother were going to be away for four days,” she said in lieu of a proper greeting.

He chuckled, shifting to lean more heavily on the cane in his other hand. “Ah, well, you know how your mother can be. She tends to push projects along to a more streamlined process,” he said before reaching out and brushing a thumb under her eye to wipe away the tears threatening to spill. “Now, what’s got you so distressed?”

She felt heat creep up along her cheeks. “I-I was… Well, uh, you see-!”

“Honestly, Momo,” Another voice chimed in, “what is all of this fuss about? And this mess! If you wanted to have some kind of exotic snack you should have asked one of the chefs. We hired them for a reason.”

Momo averted her gaze to her hands, fingers fiddling with the edge of the messy apron she was adorning. Of course Mother had opinions about this. “I was… Trying to prepare something on my own,” she mumbled.

“What for?” she asked with a raised brow.

“My boyfriend and I are having our one year anniversary tomorrow,” she explained, her fidgeting getting worse as she spoke, “So I wanted to make something myself to share with him.”

Mother’s face screwed up in confusion, her head tilting slightly. “Boyfriend?” 

“Yes, dear! Shoto-Kun, remember?” Father said, already moving to and fro in the kitchen as best as he could with the cane. He was rummaging through one of the pantries in search of something but perked back up as he closed the door. “Well, I suppose you wouldn’t. We only know of him from Momochi’s stories and the sports festival footage. We really should work to fix that. If you two are committed enough to be together for a year, it only makes sense we have a dinner at some point to meet him properly.” He nodded to himself at that before opening another drawer and plucking out the matryoshka doll-inspired measuring cups he’d bought shortly after Momo’s Quirk had manifested.

Back then, before Father fell ill, Momo remembered spending afternoons in the kitchen with him while he prepared all manner of snacks for her to choose from. Those measuring cups had been selected specifically to be used for her treats and her treats alone.

“Ah, that’s right… Endeavor-Sama’s boy,” Mother said, clearly remembering at least one conversation they’d had about it before. She then scowled as she watched Father continued rummaging through the cabinets and drawers. “Umeo… What are you doing? You are supposed to be resting.”

“And I’ll rest after helping Momo with this, Mikan,” he said with a small smile as he set the measuring cups down on the counter in front of Momo. He turned to face her with a bright smile on his face. “Our daughter will only get to celebrate her first year anniversary with her boyfriend once, you know.”

Some of the harshness in Mother’s expression dwindled at that, some of her sharper edges dulling. Father always seemed to have a way about drawing that expression from her. “... Very well. But I am going to have someone here to monitor that you do not overdo it,”

“Of course, of course! Now, let’s see… I know I left the recipe book around here somewhere,” he grumbled, moving to open another drawer. 

Mother shook her head, a small smile turned up on her lips as Father released a satisfied cry and held the book up appraisingly. Her gaze shifted back to her only daughter, maintaining that same delicacy that Father had brought out. “And, Momo?” She nodded tentatively at being addressed. “Congratulations on reaching such a significant milestone in your relationship.” With that, Mother squared her shoulders and walked back out of the kitchen, pausing briefly to nudge one of the eavesdropping chefs in to monitor things.

“Thank you, Mother,” she called after her. When she turned back around, Father had replaced the cook book she’d been using with his own and was flipping pages. “Ah, Father! I’m going to be doing this on my own!”

“Oh, my apologies! I promise I’m not trying to step on your toes or take charge; just getting the section pulled up for you, Momochi,” he said before carefully moving to a chair the assisting chef hurriedly dragged over. Sometimes she was astounded at how a man so ill could still be so spry.

She instead turned her attention to which section in his recipe book he’d opened to, tilting her head slightly. “Hmm? These are… So simple,”

“Simple, yes, but always a crowd pleaser,” he chuckled.

“But… I wanted to do something… bigger, I suppose? These are just… incredibly basic,” she said, unable to mask the disappointment in her tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with something simpler, dear,” he said, motioning her to approach him. When she was close enough, he took her hands and gave a small squeeze, smiling widely up at her. “Love isn’t always about grand, sweeping gestures or flashy gifts. Sometimes, the most significant shows of love are in the simple, in the basics.” There was something in his smile as he glanced from her to the entryway where Mother had left through. The gleam in his eyes was one of pure adoration, she knew, and couldn’t help but feel a small smile turn up on her own lips as he turned back to face her. Of all the things Momo knew in this world, the love between her parents was the most comforting to her. “When you’re young and inexperienced, love always seems like something that’ll solve everything, make every day good. That’s what movies and books and everything else tells you, after all. And… That’s only true to some extent. Sometimes, Momo, love is about comfort and familiarity. After all, when you love someone, you know them as well as yourself. Sometimes the best shows of love are in remembering little things, like how they take their coffee.”

She blinked before squeezing his hands in return gently. “Shoto-Kun likes strawberries, so… I want to make something with those in them,”

“Ah, I think I know something that’ll be perfect for you then. I believe it’s on page 53,”

She did as he said, lighting up at the recipe she found, before scurrying over the the fridge to make sure she had all the necessary ingredients to get started.

……………………………………………………………..

Momo let out a small, contented sigh as she took a small sip from her lemonade. “Thank you so much for the lovely lunch, Shoto-Kun,” she hummed happily, placing her empty bento in his waiting hands.

“To be honest,” he said, a faint blush to his cheeks as he started putting their things away, “it wasn’t all me. I had help from Fuyumi-Nee and Nezumi-San. I wanted to make sure the food was actually… Well, edible.”

“I’m sure it would have been fine, regardless,” she argued politely.

He flashed her one of his signature dead-pan stares. “You have too much faith in me, Momo,”

She giggled a bit before turning to rummage through her own bag of goodies. “Well, if we’re being honest… Father helped me with the cookies. Or, rather, Father helped me decide what to make and then assured I followed the proper process to make them,” she said as she pulled out the tupperware container and peeled the lead off. She held it towards him, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest. “Here, please try one.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking one and looking it over. She saw how his eyes lit up when he noticed the strawberry chunks sticking out. The recipe wasn’t anything revolutionary - just a simple strawberry shortcake cookie with cream cheese filling - but she hoped that the care she’d taken in their preparation would make up for that. For as much as Father had reassured her about the gesture not needing to be extravagant, she still couldn’t completely quell her nervousness. She watched as he took a bite, eyes widening as he chewed, before tossing the rest of the cookie into his mouth eagerly. “These are delicious. Really delicious.”

“You like them?”

“Very much, yes. The combination of strawberries and cream cheese is just sweet enough,” he said while grabbing to take out two more cookies, taking a bite out of one the second the words left his mouth. He swallowed his bite and smiled at her. “Thank you for preparing these, Momo.”

“My pleasure, Shoto-Kun,” she hummed, plucking a cookie out for herself and resting her head against his shoulder. As she took a bite, she sent a silent thanks to Father for both the recipe and his advice.

[halothenthehorns]

THE HOUSE-ELF LIBERATION FRONT

I was originally going to save the opening for this chapter for the end of the book, but then I was looking at my notes and saw I already had a crap ton for that, and this really is a pressing enough question to get in now. Thanks for all the lovely reviews and support!

HPHPHP

Try as they might, even in the face of the dragon nightmare from the last few chapters, neither Sirius nor Remus had forgotten their intentions to try and have a private conversation regarding what they'd finally had confirmed for them in Moody's first lesson. Something had happened to Harry the night his parents were killed, something involving Lily and her ability to save her son, and the two desperately wanted to try and talk about it out loud in hopes sharing some ideas would make some sense, but without the others around. They loved Lily like a sister and this was going to be hard for them to focus on, neither of them wanted the other three around as it would only be worse.

Neither of them had a clear idea what could even be said, but they'd always come up with their best ideas spit-balling to each other, so Remus decided to get the worst of it over as he blurted, "have you ever heard of anything that Lily could have done to save Harry?"

  Sirius chewed on his answer for a few minutes, denying that he was holding back a yawn, as he said softly back, "nothing comes to mind, and I've been trying to figure it out since I first heard about this. Nothing can block the Killing Curse."

"You don't think it's just something undiscovered," Remus tried to wheedle, "not even a rumor that you can work with?"

Sirius shook his head and insisted, "not a peep, and I can't imagine how that would change in the next year. I wish we'd said something about it to Harry in the Shack," Sirius' face twitched with the most base hatred one can hold at the mention of that place before continuing and ignoring it, "but at this rate it doesn't look like the three of us are going to be in the same room for a while. Merlin knows if we even know then."

Sirius knew quite a few things the others didn't from his Black heritage. As a child, he'd questioned one to many things and if they regarded their ancestry he usually got an answer, though the vile nature of them really have led him on the path he was now. The fact that Dumbledore had suggested the Fidelius Charm for them to hide under meant that this must be the most powerful thing Dumbledore could find to keep them alive, so it clearly wasn't any good magic that had saved Lily. Then again, it had been Dumbledore who said that Harry had been saved by the love of his mother, and even back in the first chapter it had been implied Dumbledore might have some idea of what had happened, but hadn't shared it with Harry.

It was another of those questions where they just couldn't help but wonder what their old headmaster was doing to their lives. Did he know and was keeping it from them, to what end? Did he figure it out after the fact, and decided Harry was too young to know? Not unreasonable, but still information Dumbledore shouldn't even be the one to share, it should be Sirius' decision at least now.

They talked for as long as they could until they couldn't take it any longer. The vision of Lily dead in front of her wailing child was most certainly going to feature in their nightmares tonight as long as they had lingered on the subject, so while neither wanted any rest, sleep took them before either had even made it to the stairs.

James grinned as he came down the stairs the next morning, with the baby in his arms, to see his two friends passed out on the sofas. He'd known from the moment he'd left they were going to stay behind and talk about something, and he knew his friends well enough to guess the topic. The sight wasn't even that unfamiliar, in school they'd often gone down to the common room late at night to pick apart each others brains and fallen asleep down there.

Remus slept like an Inferi, dead until activated, but Sirius was usually a light sleeper so even as James tried to creep past them into the kitchen, Sirius began stirring. James only just got Harry into his highchair when Sirius entered from behind.

The two chatted in sleepy mumbles for a few minutes before Sirius shook himself hard to fully make sure he was awake before he dug in for something he knew he needed to talk about.

"Alright Prongs, out with it," Sirius sighed, hopping up onto the counter and swinging his legs around in an attempt to just look bored, but the tense set of his shoulders made it clear Sirius actually thought he was in trouble.

James frowned, struggling for a moment before plastering a grin on he knew full well Sirius wouldn't buy, but hoping his friend would take the hint and stop asking anyways. "Don't know what you're talking about."

Sirius eyed him for a moment, clearly considering this very thing, as he knew that there weren't many things James wouldn't tell him. If he wasn't talking without some hard prodding, then it was either something about Sirius himself, or James wanted to handle it himself. Sirius had just decided he really would drop it, if James wanted to be silently jealous then Sirius wasn't going to keep at him, when Ron's face flashed across his mind. Sirius had never even met Ron, but he could understand where Ron was coming from in his anger. He was more frustrated the boy hadn't stood by his mate, but Sirius didn't want something to linger in James if he could get it out of him. So instead he pressed, "go ahead and have a yell at me, something. I know my interacting with Harry is bothering you."

James groaned as he leaned on the counter beside him and muttered, "I'm not angry Sirius, not really. What can I even say? Fine, I'll admit it bothers me that you're the one Harry's been looking to for advice, but it's not like I'm there and he's choosing you over me, I'm just not there." The pain that tore out of James' throat even as he got that last part out made Sirius all the happier he and Remus had their conversation last night without Prongs around. He didn't need any other stress on his life right now; and since it hadn't done them much good in the end, it really would have just made things worse for him right now.

Even as the rest of the house stirred James and Sirius managed to keep up a lighter and friendly banter between them now, even having gotten it out in the open had made James feel just slightly better.

The two looked far happier than they did going in as they sat down for the next chapter. Everyone took the spots they had before, James even passing the baby to Remus again while Lily sat next to him.

It was Lily's turn to pick up the book where they'd left off, which she did with only a slight tilt of unease. Harry had just survived the first task, surely nothing too bad was going to happen in the very next chapter.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were heading up to the Owlery in search of Pig,

"Nice to hear the trio of names again," James smiled.

so that Harry could send his letter to Sirius about how he'd gotten past his dragon.

"Best letter I'll have gotten in ages," Sirius smirked, before catching sight of Harry and quickly adding, "not that I'll have any doubts you could do it even without my advice."

Harry was filling Ron in on everything Sirius had shared with him about Karkaroff, and while at first shocked at the news, Ron quickly agreed he was an obvious suspect.

"Didn't miss this though," Remus grumbled testily. He may have forgiven Ron, but his attitude was going to still bother him for a while longer.

Pointing out what they'd heard on the train about Malfoy saying his dad and Karkaroff were old friends, now they knew from where.

"Got a point there," Lily sighed, remembering back to that moment and how they'd hoped they were just being paranoid in thinking the same.

Ron did add though that if it was Karkaroff doing this, he'd be feeling stupid now, Harry had only got a scratch from the first task.

"Hopefully that's the worst you do get," Remus agreed.

They found Pigwidgeon, but Harry began having difficulties tying his letter to the minute owl.

"Got to love the little guys enthusiasm," Sirius grinned, still unrepentant he was the reason Ron had that particular owl.

Ron had to snatch him out of the air to hold him still long enough before releasing him again, Ron still babbling about his confidence now Harry was doing so well he had no doubts Harry could win this tournament,

"I'm more focused with you living through it, then fourth place would seem like a blessing," James huffed.

While Harry agreed, he couldn't quite seem to do so out loud, something of what Ron said lingering with him. He couldn't have really won though, right?

he was being serious.

"No, I am!" Sirius blurted with the proudest smile on his face like he'd just made the end of all jokes.

Lily knew ignoring him wouldn't actually make him stop, but it was still better than retaliating and letting him keep going.

Harry knew Ron was being overtly kind because of his previous attitude,

"Not that it's really helping," Remus grumbled.

but Harry didn't deny either that he smiled in appreciation.

Hermione frowned at Ron though, reminding Harry had a long ways to go before he should start thinking like that

"She's such a buzzkill," James snorted.

seriously.

"I still don't believe she could do any sort of believable impression of me," Sirius sniffed, this time James did reach around and smack him for it.

Ron told her to stop being such a sunshine.

"It's good to be agreeing with Ron again," Lily chuckled.

Harry watched Pig soaring away with a heavy roll of parchment, his letter to Sirius had been filled with every bit of detail Harry could offer about his match with the dragon.

"I can imagine that giving me a combination of heart failure and pleasure," Sirius nodded.

"I'm just glad you didn't get a chance to make an appearance," Remus scoffed, "you would have pissed yourself in the stands and drawn attention to yourself."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at him.

Ron caught his attention by saying they should head downstairs for Harry's surprise party.

"Well it's not a surprise now!" James threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Wish the surprise was they hadn't done it," Harry rolled his eyes.

Ron was right, the moment they stepped into the common room they found it decked out for a party. The twins had gathered everything they needed from food to entertainment, plus Dean had used his art skills to put up posters such as Harry's battle with the dragon, and a few of Cedric's head on fire.

The Marauders gave appreciative laughs at that, though Lily and Harry couldn't find it that funny. At least Cedric was okay for it.

Harry finally felt able to laugh along and chat with everyone, Ron and Hermione by his side all night. He hadn't felt so happy in months, and he wouldn't have to worry about anything again for months.

"All bright spots that I will cherish as long as I can," Lily agreed.

Lee had come over to talk to Harry, and had grabbed up his golden egg to investigate it, then asked Harry to open it for all of them to hear what was inside.

"Now that would have to be classified as cheating," Remus raised a surprised brow. "Getting the whole of your house to help you with that."

"I wouldn't put it past anyone else to be doing the same," James waved him off with honest curiosity of what this was going to be.

Hermione tried to say that was against the rules, but Harry quietly reminded her so was her helping him past his dragon, too which she grinned.

"I just love it when Hermione points out the rules when they don't relate to her," Sirius snorted.

After more prompting from the rest of his house, Harry did indeed open the seal on the egg, and it fell open with a wail of noise. The high pitched shrieking was horrid, the only comparable noise was the saw music at Nick's deathday party.

"That sounds like a pain in the ear," Remus winced in sympathy, rubbing at his own ear in just the thought.

"What on earth would be making that noise?" Lily asked as she tried to guess what this had to do with the tournament's second task.

"Banshee," Sirius offered with a frown.

"No, I heard that once," Harry corrected, thinking of Seamus' boggart, "and this wasn't that."

"Hard to really guess since we can't actually hear it," James pointed out with a pout.

Harry had to struggle to get his wits about him before shutting it back, everyone now watching him with a bit of fear. Seamus pointed out it sounded kind of like a banshee, maybe Harry would have to go against one of those next.

"I'd still take that over a dragon," Sirius shivered.

"I don't think that's it though," Lily frowned, "the tournament usually has three separate events, not the same thing like getting past a creature every time."

Neville stuttered that it had sounded like someone being cursed with the Cruciatus.

"You can't fight that," James shivered in disgust at the thought.

"And there's no way that would be in the tournament," Remus agreed.

George told him that was ridiculous, they wouldn't use a curse like that on the champions. Then he offered it had sounded like Percy's singing, maybe Harry would have to go after him in the shower.

"I like his suggestion the best," Harry grinned as they all burst out laughing at that suggestion. For some reason what George had said seemed to linger in Harry's mind. Why would Percy be a stand out at his next task though, he shouldn't even be there.

Fred then offered Hermione a jam tart to change the subject, which Hermione did not take.

"Why?" James asked innocently enough. "Do the twins often spike the food?"

"Rule number one of the Gryffindors," Harry shrugged, "don't take anything the twins offer you without expecting something."

"Now where have I heard that before," Lily rolled her eyes as the Marauders all smiled at that.

Fred grinned at her, promising he hadn't done anything to them, it had been the custards he may have tampered with.

"Which clearly means he's done something to those tarts," Sirius' smile widened.

"Unless he was trying to double cross them," Remus grinned as well. "The twins wouldn't tell what they'd spiked, so of course people would be fooled into thinking the creams are okay, then they'd eat those anyways."

"You boys worry me," Lily told them before James could continue the convoluted idea.

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out.

Causing all five of them to cackle. That could have been the joke all along of course, just to make someone think they'd eaten anything.

Both twins laughed at his response, before promising it was all a joke. Hermione took the offered food, but then asked how had they gotten all of this? Fred quickly said that it had all come from the kitchens, the house-elves had been begging to give it to them. They'd go fetch him something exotic if he asked for specialties.

Sirius smacked his lips in appreciation. He'd loved testing them to the limits to see what they would bring him, and they'd never let him down.

Hermione asked where the kitchens were.

"I see Hermione's taking your advice," Lily grinned. She really hoped Hermione would meet these house-elves and see how most were treated.

Fred at first went into all the details of it, before cutting himself off as he scrutinized Hermione and asked why she wanted to know.

They'd been so stressed for so many chapters in a row, that perhaps they're continued giggling of anything the twins did was possibly being exaggerated, but no one seemed likely to stop soon either.

Hermione quickly tried to act innocent, but George wagged his finger at her, telling her not to go getting ideas of rebellion into their head.

"That could be some potential mayhem," James smirked.

"Kind of wishing we'd thought of that," Sirius agreed.

"You value your meals to much to try and put the house-elves up to anything," Remus snorted.

Fred agreed they'd all be pissed if she put them off their cooking.

"Unless Dumbledore specifically told them to stop, nothing would actually put them off their cooking," James corrected, shuddering in horror at the very idea.

Neville caused a distraction by sprouting the feathers of a canary.

Which drove any talk of house-elves back out the window and a nice new round of laughter, no one in doubt it had been the twins.

In between his own laughter, Fred managed to apologize and admit it had been those creams he'd hexed. Less than a minute later and Neville had molted, then joined in the laughter.

"Good to see he knows how to laugh it off," Remus said warmly, thinking of previous times something like this had happened and very glad Neville had never once seemed to turn bitter about this.

Several people were murmuring in curiosity at the twins idea, as both boys quickly called to all listening ears that they were selling these Canary Creams for only seven Sickles.

"I can not put into words how excited I am they're still on about this!" Sirius squealed, bouncing in his seat at this new idea of the twins.

"They clearly have a gift for it," Lily agreed.

They went up to bed much later, and as Harry was laying down in his bed he pulled out his miniature Horntail and placed it on his bedside cabinet.

"Wait, so you kept that little dragon!?" Sirius asked in disgust.

"Yes," Harry shrugged, "but he ran away that night. I don't really know where he went either, I always wondered if Crookshank's ate him."*

"I hope so," Sirius muttered, while Remus went a little wide eyed and demanded:

"Did you say a dragon got loose in your common room, and you never reported it, or even looked for it!?"

Harry looked honestly confused as he asked, "Ah, no. Why would I?"

Lily suddenly released a burst of laughter and gasped, "Oh Merlin, I'm just picturing that thing getting out and going to live in the forest or something."

"I hate you right now," Sirius scowled at her. Even if he did know the magic of it would make it vanish after a few months, he didn't even want to picture running across one of those in his Forest.

Harry watched it curl into itself and begin to snooze, thinking as he drifted off himself Hagrid wasn't all wrong, they weren't all bad those dragons.

"Yes, yes they still are," Sirius grumbled mutionisly. He didn't care Harry had got past his, he still wanted nothing to do with the beasts.

December was hitting the castle with icy winds and mounds of snow. The warm fires and thick walls managed to keep the worst of it out inside the school, but Harry pitied those from the Durmstrang ship.

"Oh I'm sure they have it charmed on the inside to be plenty warm," Lily corrected, at least hoping Karkaroff would do this for his students. Even an old Death Eater had to at least pretend to care for his students, right?

"Even if they don't," James rolled his eyes, "don't they come from somewhere even colder? This can't be anything new to them."

Beauxbatons didn't look much better in their caravan, though Hagrid was commonly seen making their stay as comfy as possible. So far he'd kept to the task of providing their horses with their prefered drink of the single-malt whiskey, the fumes of which often drifted across the grounds and made the Care of Magical Creatures class going lightheaded. This was not helpful, as they still needed their wits about them around the skrewts.

"At least their blast ends will keep you warm," Remus muttered as he tried to repress a smirk.

Hagrid began a lesson by pointing out that he wasn't sure if they hibernated,

"Hagrid's extensive knowledge of these things really keeps me warm," James frowned. He liked Hagrid as a person, but that didn't change the fact he really wanted his son to drop both of his extracurricular classes lately.

so he'd prepared some boxes for them to try out, all they had to do was lead them inside. There were only ten of them left, apparently their kill drive had not been walked out of them.

"At least their dropping numbers is encouraging," Sirius chuckled.

The class did not look encouraged to be trying to force the brutes into pillow lined boxes.

"Can never deny Hagrid's enthusiasm though," Lily murmured in an almost affectionate tone.

The task did not go as planned, as the moment the skrewts realized they were being nailed inside mayhem broke loose, and soon the ground was strewn with smoldering blankets.

"Sounds like a disaster zone," Remus raised a brow, still unable to wipe his own smile off his face.

"Sounds like a party," Sirius agreed, both boys half regretting Kettleburn never did get these for their class. At least they'd know the end result of whatever Harry was dealing with.

The majority of the class took off running, Malfoy and his group in the lead as they hid inside Hagrid's cabin, but a few stayed out to help round them back up.

Hagrid was trying to convince his students not to go frightening them as Harry and Ron were forced backwards, throwing sparks at the skrewt advancing on them, the stinger on its back quivering to strike.

"I am genuinely certain the skrewt isn't the one frightened in this situation," James's brows just kept traveling up his forehead, like he was torn between wanting to laugh along with his mates at something involving these fascinating beasts, and the ever perplexing question of Hagrid's sanity regarding them.

They were momentarily distracted by noticing Rita Skeeter leaning against Hagrid's fence.

"I really wish Hogwarts had a stricter visiting policy," Harry snapped. He'd been quiet and only mildly concerned about his well being with the skrewt around, at least he felt safe in the knowledge Hagrid would handle it in the end, but the moment she was mentioned his annoyance went right back up.

Hagrid jumped onto the last skrewt then, pinning it to the ground long enough to loop a leash around it before turning his attention to Skeeter and asking who she was.

She quickly stated her title, and Hagrid frowned at her as he stated Dumbledore had banned her from the school,

"Ha!" Sirius released a bark of righteous laughter. Finally, Dumbledore really was still good for something!

"I think Hogwarts needs security," Lily sniffed, "guards around the school or something to stop her waltzing in the front gate, especially as Dumbledore specifically said she wasn't allowed in."

"Guards on gates yes," James approved, "but inside the castle and on the grounds? Come on Lil's you'll kill all the fun."

'As if Harry needs any more fun,' Lily mentally grumbled, thinking it would solve a few of the problems they'd had, but wasn't going to argue the point for now.

as he dragged the last skrewt to its comrades.

"That should really be telling us how indestructible those things are," Remus shivered, his mind still slightly distracted from Rita by those things. "Hagrid, landing on that with his considerable weight, and it's still able to walk!"

"I really wish Hagrid would tell already where he got those things," Sirius agreed.

Rita pretended not to hear that as she asked what these creatures where, and Hagrid told her with some pride.

Rita was confused, saying she'd never heard of them and asking where they came from.

Hagrid flushed in shock and didn't immediately answer, leading Harry's heart to sink as the question first occurred to him.

"His answer's just all kinds of encouraging," Lily muttered. They'd already guessed sure, but his not answering wasn't improving their mood.

Hermione stepped in by diverting attention to Harry, asking him how interesting he found these creatures.

"Why would she draw attention to you!" James spluttered in outrage. "That's all you need is for her to launch another article soon as she catches sight of you!"

"I can't blame Hermione," Harry sighed, "I'd have done the same thing if I'd thought about it long enough, to divert attention away from Hagrid."

Harry quickly agreed after a prompt stamp to his foot from her.

"That wasn't necessary," Remus snorted, he knew Harry would have agreed without it.

Rita was very pleased at seeing him again, at once launching into questions for him, such as was this his favorite class?

Harry agreed at once, noticing Hagrid beam.

"Still true," Harry grinned unabashedly. DADA may have been one of his best classes, but Hagrid would always be his favorite teacher, no matter err, the interesting things he brought to said class.

Rita asked Hagrid how long he'd been teaching, her eyes lingering on the still fearful students inside Hagrid's place and the remaining ones outside who were all slightly injured from the ordeal.

Hagrid admitted this was only his second year.

"And he's off to a great start," Sirius couldn't help the sarcastic spew. "Nearly sacked his first year, clearly up to something at least minorly illegal this year."

"Got to love Hagrid," Harry agreed without the same tone.

Rita was definitely interested now as she asked Hagrid if they could set up an interview.

"She's insane!" Lily scowled. "Hagrid will know that's a mad idea just from what she's already done to Harry!"

"You'd really think she'd take a hint," Remus agreed.

She wanted to pick his brains for their Wednesday article on zoological creatures for the Prophet, perhaps feature these Bang-Ended Scoots?

"Think I like that better than Hagrid's name for them," James snorted.

Hagrid quickly corrected their proper name, but did indeed agree this sounded like a good idea. Harry got a very bad feeling as they set up a later time to do this, but didn't know how to warn Hagrid with Rita watching.

"Don't know what you're bothering to be subtle about," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I'd shout it in her face what a terrible idea that was."

"I knew the moment I really said anything to her she'd twist it," Harry sighed, "if I had told Hagrid not to in front of her who knew what she'd put in her next article about me."

Considering she'd most likely be doing it anyways, Harry's caution most likely wasn't going to be useful, but they couldn't blame him for trying.

The three of them headed off to the castle uneasily, wondering what Rita was going to say about Hagrid. Hermione was worried Rita would find out Hagrid had imported those skrewts illegally.

"Yeah, I absolutely believe that," James sighed as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"Hagrid wouldn't admit to that though," Sirius reminded with plenty of confidence.

Ron did remind though that Hagrid had been in trouble before and Dumbledore hadn't done anything against him, worst that could happen was Hagrid would have to get rid of the skrewts.

"Worst?" Remus repeated with a light smirk. "I'd think he'd call that a good thing."

Then Ron corrected he'd meant best.

"Is there an echo in here?" Sirius snickered while Remus rolled his eyes at him.

They all laughed as they headed off to lunch.

Harry found Divination that afternoon very enjoyable again.

"There's something I never thought I'd hear," Lily laughed.

"Don't know what you're talking about," James told her with an almost straight face, "I think she's a lovely one."

"For a laugh," Sirius tacked on before they all started laughing again.

They were still tracking planets, and Trelawny was still trying to insist all the horrible ways they were going to die, but now that Ron was his friend again, they were a snickering mess as Trelawney went into the details of Pluto.

"Well that is the Roman planet of the Greek God Hades, lord of Death," Sirius rolled his eyes, "wouldn't surprise me that's her favorite."

She tried to keep up her mystic tone as she watched Harry reprovingly, stating how some would find it best to take her class without the frivolous attitude.

"And I would think," Lily shot back, "that you would take a bleeding hint, and realize Harry doesn't give a single care of you're bleeding predictions."

"Some people just can't take a hint," James told her with an earnest smile, making Lily give an indulgent grin back.

She trailed off into how just last night she'd been absorbed in her orb, gazing into its powers, and whispered to the class if they could guess what she'd seen.

Ron muttered under his breath a reflection of a glittering bat.

Lily had to actually pause for several minutes the boys were all laughing so hard. A combination of all the pent up stress leading up to the dragon, and this by far being the most lax chapters they'd had since Harry's name had come out of the Goblet was making them all a little punch drunk with giggles.

Harry fought to keep his laughing repressed even as Trelawny dramatically finished with, death! She finished with an obvious look at Harry again, who yawned.

"That was a kind response to what I was thinking," James wheezed out.

"Still didn't get through her thick skull," Sirius snorted.

As they were leaving, Harry was complaining that it may have had more of a hit if she hadn't used the same line over a hundred times now.

"My point exactly," Lily shook her head.

Pointing out if he'd died every time she said so, he'd be a walking miracle.

The good mood was still persistent enough that they all chuckled at Harry's comment, but it didn't quite erase the reminder that he'd actually had some pretty close calls that made them feel Harry wasn't exactly wrong either.

Ron agreed he could be some new kind of ghost.

"Your own original species," Sirius nodded in agreement.

"No thanks," Harry shook himself, he didn't like to think about dead things much.

Ron was at least pleased that they didn't have homework from her, hoping Hermione did as he always loved not having to do any while she did hers.

"Always something to lord over your friends," Remus agreed.

Hermione didn't meet them for dinner though, and though they went to the library to find her, she wasn't there either. They did find Krum, and Ron at first began a whispered debate of whether he should ask for their autograph, but then he caught a group of girls doing the same and lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

"Don't see why," Sirius stated, a wide grin creeping across his features. "I'd think it would actually encourage him to go get that autograph, go back to the girls and show off-"

Remus begged Lily to cut him off before they had to hear anymore.

The two boys had just made it to Gryffindor tower and had opened the portrait to go inside when she caught up to them, at once trying to drag Harry back off and babbling that he had to see something!

James spluttered a bit in shock, unable to stop the worry as he demanded, "now what!?"

"Relax," Harry soothed with his head cocked to the side, he felt nothing bad for this. "Hermione looked excited, not upset."

Lily eyed him for a moment, gauging how truthful that was, but when Harry clearly meant it she did keep going with honest curiosity.

Harry tried to ask what was going on, but she just wanted to show them!

They ran off after her, the Fat Lady calling behind them in annoyance that they shouldn't bother apologizing for leaving her open!

"Has anyone?" Sirius rolled his eyes. She was testy this year.

She'd just stay here wide open until they got back.

"Fairly certain she's not allowed to do that," Remus snorted.

Hermione dragged them all the way back through the castle, down to where the Hufflepuffs came up for their meals.

"Ooh," the Marauders said in understanding, though they remained just as confused as before. Hermione must have found the kitchen, and the house-elves, but that really didn't explain her excitement. Harry hadn't shown any enthusiasm for her S. P. E. W. gig.

Harry still remained as baffled as the others, but when understanding struck and he realized where Hermione was taking him, he also couldn't stop some happiness bubbling up in him as well. Something good was going to come of whatever was going on, he was at least sure of that.

The passage was brightly lit, with all sorts of paintings of food lining the walls.

"I don't know how the Hufflepuffs stand it," Remus said tragically, "having to walk past food so many times a day, how can they not be constantly hungry."

"Glad I don't have to know," James grinned, "though I bet they're on the best terms with the elves out of all the houses."

Harry realized where he was just as Hermione stopped in front of a large painting, asking if this was more spew stuff? Hermione tried to say it wasn't, but something else, but Ron laughed and asked if she'd finally changed the name to House-Elf Liberation Front?

"HELF?" Sirius snorted, "honestly that one's not as bad. Least it would be a little harder to make fun of."

Hermione promised this had nothing to do with that, she just wanted to show Harry something.

Harry was watching them all curiously, but clearly they had no more idea than him what was so exciting Hermione was going on about it.

She turned back to the picture of fruit, tickled a pair, and a handle appears which she quickly wrenched open and pushed Harry inside.

Harry only got a glimpse of the enormous kitchen, with all sorts of cooking supplies and a warm fireplace,

"Ah that brings back the best memories," Sirius' grin kept stretching wider.

"That place was as familiar to us as the Forest by the end of our first year," James agreed.

when something tackled him around the middle, squealing about Harry Potter!

Lily blinked down at the pages in shock as her mind tried to process what elf would be down in the kitchens squealing over Harry, none of them should have even met him.

When she looked up at Harry to see if he had any ideas, she saw him blinking in shock, his mouth flopping uselessly, and though she had a curious idea as the only elf this could be, she still read.

Harry glanced down at the elf hugging the life out of his middle as he gasped out Dobby.

"Wh-what!" Sirius spluttered, his face quickly flipping from shock to outrage the fastest. Despite his pleasure in the justice Dobby had dished out to Malfoy, Sirius still held no love for the critter that had genuinely tried to maim Harry at some point.

"I knew it!" Harry yelped in relief, clearly noticing no such feelings pouring off of his godfather. "I just knew I'd run into Dobby again! What on earth do you think he's doing there?"

"Best guess?" Remus offered indulgently at Harry's clearly laughing features. "Dumbledore might have hired him. Last we heard he was looking for a paying job, Dumbledore would be the first in mind to indulge in such things."

"I think that's brilliant," Lily agreed, ignoring the still flabbergasted James and stone faced Sirius.

Dobby agreed it was indeed him as he released Harry and stepped back so that he could properly see him. Dobby still had the same features as the last time Harry had seen him, but looked much different in the clothes.

"Yeah, like the fact that he's wearing clothes," James chuckled as he shook off his own disbelief.

He'd done an even more odd job of putting together an outfit than most wizards at the World Cup.

"And that's saying something," Lily giggled.

Wearing a tea cozy for a hat, a tie with horseshoes over a bare chest, kids soccer shorts, and one black sock Harry identified as the one he'd given the elf to earn this freedom, plus the other which was orange and pink striped.

Sirius couldn't keep it up any longer, he cracked and started snickering with the rest of all the garments, but Sirius' was still tinged with unease. Last time Harry had been in danger, Dobby hadn't exactly been helpful. This year Harry was actually in more danger than he had back in his second year, and Sirius was kind of terrified what the little elf would do when he found out this time.

Harry asked what Dobby was doing here, and Dobby squealed his excitement that he was working for Dumbledore now, he and Winky!

"And Winky?" James did a double take in surprise.

"I never thought about it," Remus cocked his head to the side, "but what does happen to house-elves when they get sacked. When Harry said he knew he'd see Dobby again I didn't think about it much, but Winky?"

"Honestly, I don't think anyone has a clue," Sirius shrugged absently. "It's so rare to even fire one, what Crouch did really was an extreme."

Harry finally noticed Sirius' disinterest in Dobby, and frowned slightly at him. He'd really been hoping that Sirius had officially gotten over his hatred of Dobby, but clearly he wasn't fond of him either. At least he wasn't spouting death threats again, yet.

They were surprised to hear about Winky as well, so Dobby led them over to see for themselves.

Winky was sitting on a stool in front of the fire, also wearing clothes, but unlike Dobby's odd put together Winky's matched well with a blue skirt and matching blouse.

"So elves do have a sense of clothing," Lily giggled, her fondness for Dobby managing to increase as she realized he just enjoyed standing out.

However, Dobby's were so well cared for they all looked new, Winky's were stained and burned in several places.

"Ooph," Remus winced for the poor thing. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would be going through an elves mind at being separated from a master they'd so clearly loved. Hopefully Winky's state would impress upon Hermione what most elves were really like, freedom did nothing good for them.

Harry greeted her kindly, but she merely burst into tears.

"I feel like that happens frequently," James cringed at the idea of a girl, even a female house-elf, crying.

Hermione tried to comfort the little thing, but Dobby took no notice and kept beaming up at Harry, asking if he'd like some tea, having to speak a little louder over Winky's cries.

"Oh that sounds lovely," Sirius managed to chuckle amidst all the still strained faces at hearing about Winky.

Harry agreed, and almost instantly six elves appeared with a platter of treats and fresh tea.

"Do they just have all that in waiting?" Harry asked in surprise.

"It's prepared in advance, and then kept magically at temperature in case Dumbledore, or any of the staff, ever have a call for it," Remus shrugged.

Ron was impressed at once as he took some, but Hermione just frowned and declined.

Harry asked Dobby how long he'd been here, and Dobby said it was his first week.

"Ah, well at least I feel slightly better," Sirius muttered under his breath. He gained stunned looks from the others as they finally guessed where his mind had been, but Sirius just shrugged and really did relax back. He hadn't been able to help it though, if there was something powerfully magical enough to con the Goblet, he'd put money on a house-elf. Dobby had done some pretty deranged things in his stride to help Harry before. Clearly though, Dobby really hadn't anything to do with this.

The others wanted to call him out on such a strange train of thought to them, but Harry was so relieved to see Sirius didn't look so uptight at the mention of Dobby anymore he pleadingly waved his mother on, who heeded him.

Dobby had come to speak to Dumbledore, because he hadn't been able to find a position anywhere else. It's very difficult for a dismissed elf to find more work.

Winky's volume continued to increase at that reminder.

"I can imagine that being a sore spot for her," Remus winced, kind of wishing Dobby would take this conversation elsewhere as it was clearly upsetting the poor thing.

Dobby kept going with his explaining, saying everyone he'd talked to just shut the door in his face when he said he wanted paying for his work now. The elves that had been helping them started to edge away from Dobby at his saying that, like they thought he was being rude.

"To them it is," James agreed.

Hermione was happy for Dobby though, praising him for being like this. Dobby gave her a happy smile as he agreed, but reminded that all the other wizards had been much ruder about it.

"Ooh that poor thing," Lily frowned.

"What was he charging?" Sirius suddenly started smirking. "I honestly might have taken him up just to piss off me own. Kreacher would go mad if he had competition, well more barking."

The boys laughed along, even Harry not because he found it funny, in fact every time Sirius mentioned Kreature lately he got a nasty twist inside his innards, but just happy to see Sirius had quickly jumped right back to his old joking ways.

Dobby liked his work, but he wanted to wear his clothes, because Dobby liked being free.

"Anyone would love being free after living with the Malfoy's their whole life," Remus shuddered in full agreement.

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious.

"Doesn't seem to be gaining him many friends though," Lily frowned in sorrow for the poor thing.

"Like he cares," James scoffed, "most house-elves don't care about friends, Hogwarts is actually unique in having more than two on hand. Like Dobby said, they live for their work, so long as he's getting that he'll be more than happy."

Winky just kept up her crying as Dobby mentioned having gone to visit her and finding out she was free as well, to which the girl threw herself off her stool and began beating the ground in misery.

Lily was fidgeting terribly as she kept going, the worst feeling was that she didn't even know how to help Winky. She had no idea how to go comforting any elf, she'd never heard of one in this state! It was not a comfortable feeling for Lily who had always strived to help as many of those around her.

Hermione dropped to the ground beside her, still trying to comfort her, while Dobby continued with a bright smile of Winky's screeching.

Sirius really couldn't stop the uncontrollable shaking of his shoulders as he imagined this scene, Dobby just ignoring the fact that Winky was having a breakdown and just chatting casually with Harry.

It was then Dobby had the idea of where two elves could find work, Hogwarts of course. Dumbledore had been more than willing to pay Dobby for his work, a Galleon a week and one day a month off.

"Ouch," Remus winced, "didn't expect Dumbledore to cheap him so much."

"I don't think I'll blame him for that," James disagreed with a curious look, "think about this, it's the first time I've ever heard of a house-elf even being paid, maybe what would be considered normal for us would give the little guy a coronary. He'll most likely build up to it, I hope," he concluded, waving Lily on curiously.

Hermione was shocked at such low wages, but Dobby quickly disagreed and said it had been him beating Dumbledore down from his original offer of ten Galleons a week and weekends off. Dobby shivered in fear at the very idea of so much riches.

"There you have it," James's smile turned downright smug at having guessed this.

"Wipe that look off your face, it's not that hard to work out," Sirius snickered with no force.

Dobby liked being paid, but he liked his work more.

Hermione kindly asked if Winky was getting the same,

"Eesh, this isn't going to go well," Remus winced. If Winky was losing her mind over talking about this, he couldn't imagine discussing such other things like paying would help.

but then Winky switched. She stopped crying, but looked to Hermione with outrage. Winky was properly ashamed of being dismissed and would be doing no such thing as pay.

"There's the typical attitude," Sirius nodded, wiping his brow as if relieved the world still worked right.

"I still don't get it," Lily grumbled. "Crouch was horrible to her, what's she got to be so upset about?"

"Their minds don't work like that," James gently reminded. They'd gone over this a bit, so he didn't press his point, and neither did Lily.

Hermione was shocked at her, stating Crouch had been terrible and Winky should be happy, but Winky wouldn't hear it as she pressed her hands over her ears.

Lily still couldn't help but mutter a few bitter 'brainwashed,' comments in between reading that.

Dobby explained for them Winky was having troubles adjusting, she still didn't realize she could say anything she wanted about her old master.

Harry asked in surprise that house-elves couldn't do this.

"You haven't figured that out," James shook his head. "Remember how Dobby acted the last time he almost spoke ill of the Malfoys, and they're the definition of bad wizards."

"I was just confirming for all of them, not just Dobby," Harry defended.

Dobby quickly agreed they weren't allowed to do this at all very seriously.

"Never had a house-elf try to be me," Sirius smiled, ducking on instinct when James made to swing at him again.

It was part of the house-elf law that they were never to speak ill of their masters. Dumbledore hadn't forced this though, he'd told Dobby he could call him a barmy old codger if he liked.

"I think he's been called worse recently," Remus chuckled, "but he's got a point."

Dobby gave a frightened giggle at the very idea before quickly saying he had no want to do so, Dobby loved working for Dumbledore and was happy to keep his secrets.

"Most people would for him," Sirius muttered with a frown starting to edge out his good mood, he didn't want to think what all secrets Dumbledore was hiding.

Harry couldn't stop a smile himself as he reminded that Dobby could say whatever he liked about the Malfoys now.

"This could get fun," James still stayed in an optimistic mood, he didn't want this good chapter to be ruined just because of Dumbledore.

Fear crept into Dobby's eyes as he agreed he could do this, if he wished. Dobby even squared his shoulders and admitted that the Malfoy's were bad Dark wizards.

"Well it's a start," Remus indulged.

"Give it a few more years and he might even call them really bad Dark wizards," Sirius rolled his eyes.

Dobby seemed to realize what he'd said though, and rushed to the nearest wall and began beating himself over the head for it.

"Oh that poor thing!" Lily groaned. Even freed of those Malfoys, poor Dobby was still forced to act like that.

"I'll stop him," Harry said with confidence, he'd had plenty of practice.

Harry had experience with Dobby doing this though, so quickly seized him and didn't let go until Dobby stopped. Dobby thanked Harry, admitting it was still hard to do so, but Harry encouraged he'd get better with practice.

"And I'm sure Harry'll be happy to help," James grinned.

Winky was furious at the pair of them, telling Dobby off for speaking like that about his masters.

"I think not," Remus sniffed. "If we have them enslaved, the least they should be able to do is speak their minds."

"You keep that in mind if you ever meet mine," Sirius rolled his eyes in disgust.

Dobby stated back that they weren't his masters anymore!

Winky glared at him as she called him a bad elf, then bemoaned her poor Mr. Crouch. What would he be doing without her! Her family had always belonged to the Crouch's, her mother and her grandmother, oh what would they say to bad Winky!

"Wonder why they've had all females," Lily asked.

"Some just prefer a gender," Sirius shrugged when he realized he was expected to answer, "I'm sure it doesn't actually have any difference."

Hermione tried to be firm with Winky, telling her it was Crouch's own fault and he was doing just fine without her.

Winky slightly perked up at the information someone had seen Crouch, and Hermione agreed he'd been coming around because of the tournament, he and Bagman.

Winky looked very angry at the mention of Bagman, stating Crouch had told her all about that bad wizard.

"Well that was extreme," Remus cocked his head.

"I don't like him much anymore," James agreed, "but he's irking me. What has Crouch had to say about him?"

"Guess Winky took Crouch's complaints about how he runs his department literally," Lily offered with a shrug.

Harry couldn't help disagreeing with them, he really felt like there was something he was missing about Bagman, something Crouch would know about, and he really hoped Winky would elaborate on this.

Harry tried to ask what she meant, but Winky refused to speak anymore, saying she would keep her master's secrets, then started sobbing again. Dobby didn't seem to notice as he chatted with them some more about what he planned to do with his wages.

"What would house-elves even do with their money?" Sirius suddenly asked as the idea had never occurred to him.

"You ask just as I'm fixing to read," Lily rolled her eyes at him.

Dobby had plans to buy a sweater next. Ron heard this, and seemed to have decided to taking a liking to Dobby,

"He grows on you," James agreed while Sirius still tried to deny that was getting more true the more Dobby showed up.

and offered his Christmas jumper, so long as Dobby didn't mind maroon.

"Well that was sweet," Remus grinned.

"Though sort of agitating," Lily grumbled, his mum probably went through a lot to make those and Ron was always complaining about them and now he was just giving it away. At least it was for a good reason.

Dobby couldn't have been more pleased as Ron agreed they'd have to shrink it a bit, but it would go with his tea cozy.

"There's a sentence you don't get to hear much," Sirius grinned.

They made to leave then, the other elves popping back up and trying to give them more sweets. Hermione refused, but the boys stuffed their pockets.

"Never had a more memorable flashback to my school years," James beamed.

"This ought to become a regular occurrence now," Sirius agreed.

Harry called a goodbye to Dobby, who quickly asked if Dobby could come visit Harry, which Harry agreed at once.

"Aww, I honestly can't wait," Lily beamed, at least there was something good to look forward to.

Ron was laughing as they left about the twins, who'd always made it seem like a task to get stuff from the kitchens, but they all but gave it away.

Hermione wasn't really listening as she said what a good thing it was for the other elves to have Dobby around. They'd see how happy he was and realize they wanted the same.

"I, yeah no I can't picture that one bit," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"They'll treat Winky with more respect than him," James agreed, "and she's in disgrace, but at least she's embracing it."

"In fact hopefully this'll help Hermione more than anyone," Remus added hopefully, "she'll realize Dobby's the odd one of his bunch, maybe look into the ideologies and mindsets of the common house-elf and see how much damage she could do with this running group of hers."

Harry hoped they wouldn't take a long look at Winky instead.

Hermione tried to insist that she'd just cheer up once the shock wore off.

"It's already been how many months?" Sirius raised an odd brow at Hermione, "I think she's fooling herself."

Harry wondered what Winky's, and Crouch's, problem with Bagman could be. Hermione offered it may have something to do with Crouch complaining about how Bagman ran his department.

Ron scoffed he'd rather work for Bagman than Crouch, at least the first had a sense of humor.

"A good point I can't deny," Sirius nodded along. He was an annoying bugger when he came to Harry, but still leagues better than Crouch.

Hermione laughed as she told Ron not to go letting Percy hear him saying that.

Ron agreed Percy wouldn't work for anyone who could take a joke, since he wouldn't recognize one if it danced naked in front of him in Dobby's tea cozy.

Causing one last release of laughter in the room, a very good omen for how this morning was going as Lily passed James the book.

HPHPHPHP

*Was anyone else insanely disappointed when this thing was never mentioned again? I think it would have been adorable, or at least had a few funny moments if it had just popped up once or twice again.

[primatechnosynthpop]

I'm Gonna Be The Anti-Hero (So I Can Save You When The Time Comes)

"You have to choose now. Beat me senseless and uphold your 'law', or go back to being the Ryan Murphy we've all come to know and love."

That seemingly earnest plea rang in Ryan's ears like a bomb going off as he tried to sleep. It wasn't exactly warm in the alleyway, but he didn't have the means to afford a secret vigilante base (yet; he'd have to look into that in the future) and, well, there was nowhere else he could go. Well, no, that wasn't true. He could always just go back to his own house. But that would go against his pride.

Where he really couldn't go back to was the clubhouse. Not anymore.

He had been about to tug his hat and mask off in shame, to denounce the crime-fighting lifestyle. "I choose to be your friend"... those words had been on the tip of his tongue. Even now, his heart ached with an infuriating ferocity when he thought back to it. But then.

The crunch of footsteps on the pavement behind him had snapped Ryan to attention, and he'd whirled around to see Neil sneaking up behind him with a bottle of chloroform. All at once, Ryan had understood what was really happening here. Kevin's words had just been a distraction so they could apprehend him. And then what did they plan on doing with him? Handing him over to the cops?

Well, he wasn't going to wait around to find out. In one swift motion, he knocked the bottle out of Neil's hands and pinned him to the wall with a hand around his neck.

"You…" he growled, being sure to use his vigilante voice after having momentarily slipped out of it before. "You traitor!"

"R-Ryan, wait," Neil gasped, hands scrabbling to pry Ryan's hand off of him. Ryan loosened his grip, something he wished he could say he regretted doing now, but instead he felt he would regret it more if he hadn't. "We still want to be your friend! Weren't you listening to Kevin just now?"

"I meant what I said, Ryan," Kevin put in, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. Ryan flinched away from the touch.

"Yeah, the chloroform was just, you know…" Neil gave him a nervous smile and shrugged, apparently trying to seem casual even as his throat jumped beneath Ryan's gloved hand. "A backup plan."

Even now, replaying the confrontation in his mind, Ryan wondered if he should have believed them. If he just went along with what they were saying, took his mask off and went home with them, wouldn't that be so much easier? Whether or not they really liked or respected or trusted him, at least they were going to pretend they did. He could pretend too, couldn't he?

No. I'm not going to play along anymore. His hands curled into fists, just as they had a few hours prior as he faced down his so-called friends.

"If you value your own wellbeing, get away from here and don't come back." He released his hold on Neil and stepped back, looking between him and Kevin with a glare. They lingered in place, looking back at Ryan with wide, frightened eyes. "Now! Get out of here and leave me alone!"

"But Ryan--" Neil began, stepping toward him with his now empty hands extended.

"Don't," Kevin told him quietly, holding an arm out in front of Neil. He leveled his gaze at Ryan--not quite a glare; the anger in his eyes was too heavily outweighed by sadness. "He's already made his decision. Haven't you, Ryan?"

Have I made my decision? Even now, Ryan wasn't sure he had. It felt more like the decision had been made for him. But if this was really how these people felt about him… that he had to give up part of who he was in order to keep being their friend… well, then it wasn't much of a decision in the first place, was it?

In the end, despite having told them to leave a moment ago, it was Ryan who turned and ran from that alley. He didn't want to spend any longer looking at the expressions of hurt and betrayal etched deep across his friends' faces. Not that it made any difference, because those expressions were engraved in his mind now; he saw them every time he closed his eyes, and he could tell that he was going to be seeing them for some time yet. But only in his head. He wasn't going to see them again in person, not if he could help it. Even if that thought made the persistent ache in his heart grow even sharper, he couldn't go back.

Now, as he sat with his back against the wall of another alleyway on the other side of town, eyes clenched shut in a futile attempt to get a decent night's rest, his mask was still on. And it would be staying on for the foreseeable future.

*

Mere seconds after Ryan rounded a corner and disappeared from view, Kevin groaned and shook his head.

"Oh man, what am I saying? He didn't make his decision yet."

"He didn't?" Neil asked skeptically, rubbing his neck. It wasn't even particularly sore, but it was the principle of the thing. "His mind seemed pretty made up to me."

"No, see, I told him to either beat me up or go back to being our friend," Kevin explained. "And he didn't beat us up, so…"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Neil muttered. (Never mind that Ryan's hand had been around his neck a minute ago. They'd pretty much all screwed each other over at some point; it was probably only fair. That was just how friendships worked, wasn't it?) "Should we go after him, then?"

Kevin didn't respond immediately. He stared down the alleyway to the street where Ryan had taken off. It probably wouldn't be too hard to chase him down if they went after him now, but the longer they deliberated, the more opportunity he had to outrun them. And what would they do when they caught him? Guilt stirred in Neil's gut as his gaze drifted down to the discarded bottle of chloroform. He knelt down and picked it up, then turned the bottle over in his hands. Should I apologize?

Almost like he could tell what Neil was thinking--probably because he was thinking a very similar thing--Kevin laid a hand on Neil's shoulder and gave a slight, hesitant shake of his head.

"Let him run off if he wants," he said. When Neil's concerned frown deepened, he added: "Don't worry, he'll come back soon enough. Our bond can't be broken just like that."

"Right," Neil sighed. He wished he could have Kevin's confidence… although, from the way he didn't quite meet Neil's gaze, he had to wonder if Kevin was really that confident either or just pretending. Either way… "And when he does come back, let's not chloroform him. I think that part was a mistake."

Even as he said that, Neil tucked the bottle back into his pocket. He didn't want to have to use it, really. He didn't take any pleasure from the idea of forcefully knocking Ryan out. He just…

Well, after reading those news reports, he hadn't expected Kevin to be able to talk Ryan down so easily. If Neil had listened a little more closely to the exchange, been at an angle where he could watch Ryan's expression change, then maybe he would have thought better of the chloroforming part of the plan. But what was done was done. And now… now Neil had to wonder if the same trick would work twice. If they did run into Ryan again and he wasn't so friendly, would they be able to get him to come home with them without using force?

"It won't come to that," Neil told himself, as if muttering self-directed reassurances under his breath would lighten the weight of the bottle in his pocket. "It's like Kevin said. We're still friends. Ryan's gonna come back."

*

Ryan didn't come back.

On some level, that was exactly what Kevin had expected. He tried to keep up a positive attitude, for Neil's sake if nothing else--he'd given up too quickly before and been proven wrong, after all, so there was always still a chance--but after two whole weeks with no word from their friend, it was hard to imagine Ryan just strolling back into their clubhouse any day now like nothing was wrong.

At least they knew for a fact that Ryan was still okay, physically speaking. The newspaper articles about vicious attacks by the "crazed vigilante" just kept coming. As much as those articles made him cringe, their continued presence in the paper was kind of a relief, too. He read enough comics to know that crime-fighting could be pretty dangerous, and if anything bad happened to Ryan… well, he didn't want to think about it.

To make things worse, it seemed that people had taken to throwing bricks at them. This only came to Kevin's attention when Neil held up one brick with a note attached to it and proclaimed that it was "another brick from those people who keep throwing bricks at us!" Without acknowledging Kevin's bewildered response to that remark, Neil jumped into reading the note, which announced the addition of a…

"Hmm," Neil said, tilting his head as he read over the note. "It looks like they crossed out the words 'fourth member' and changed it to 'replacement member of your team'."

"Replacement?" Kevin echoed, immediately wary. He got up from the couch and walked over to read the note over Neil's shoulder.

"I know, that's weird, right?" Neil muttered. "Who could possibly replace Ryan?"

Before they could read any further, an unfamiliar voice rang out from behind them. "'Sup, bros, I'm that new rocker kid!"

They turned to see a guy in a hulkamania t-shirt grinning smugly back at them, hands in a finger-gun position. Kevin and Neil exchanged an uneasy look. This didn't bode well…

*

So, Cynthia, remember that filmmaking studio I was telling u abt? They partnered me up w/ this pair of total frados. We're gonna have a fishing sesh now even though fishing is totally midtown. So not deck.

While Spencer was typing out this text message, being sure to select only the most infuriatingly nonsensical slang terms, the foliage above him rustled. He rolled his eyes and swatted a falling leaf away from his hair without taking his eyes off his phone screen. Okay, now to take some gnarly selfies… He leaned back and, after selecting an appropriately pretentious black-and-white filter, held his phone out in front of him and started snapping photos. He tilted his head to one side, then the other… Hmm, what angle makes me look smartest? He stuck his tongue out in contemplation, all the while making sure to keep his vape in the frame.

Just as he pressed the "send" button, a sudden flash of motion in his periphery made him jump. He turned to gawk at the masked man who had just appeared as if out of thin air--although, Spencer quickly realized, he'd probably jumped out of the tree that Spencer had been leaning against a moment ago. Huh, that was weird. Spencer took a puff of his vape and blew the smoke in the masked man's face.

"Hey, what's with the costume, bro?" he asked. "Are you wearing that ironically or what?"

"Vaping in the middle of the woods," the stranger growled in response. "Do you have any idea how much damage that can do to the ecosystem?"

"Woah, chillax, dude," Spencer laughed, holding up a hand in a gesture of surrender (but, like, only ironically, because raising a hand to indicate surrender was so mainstream). "Hang on, let me get some pics of you in that--waugh!!"

He broke off into a yelp as the masked man grabbed him by the collar and tugged him behind the treeline, well out of those lame filmmakers' line of sight. In a series of terrifyingly quick movements, the masked stranger wrenched the vape pen from Spencer's hand, clocked him over the head with it, and then kneed him in the groin. Spencer doubled over with a moan.

"D-dude… so not cool…"

The masked man harrumphed. Without another word, he grabbed Spencer's head in his hands and gave it a forceful twist sideways. The last thought to go through Spencer's brain before it permanently shut down was that the forest twisting around backwards like that would make a sick album cover.

*

Through some miraculous twist of fate, Spencer apparently wandered off during their walk through the woods and never showed back up. Evidently he'd decided that he didn't want to hang out with Kevin and Neil any more than they wanted to hang out with him--a small mercy if they'd ever seen one. That was one problem solved without them even having to come up with a solution.

But the main problem, the real problem, still wasn't solved--that problem being that they had a hole in the team that the studio saw the need to fill in the first place. And that hole did need, desperately, to be filled. But not with an annoying hipster. With the missing original member of the group.

Another few weeks went by. Autumn turned to winter. Soon there was snow on the ground, and the overnight temperatures were low enough to implant a freezing panic whenever the newspapers went a few days in a row with no reports of vigilante attacks.

"Say, Neil… you designed Ryan's vigilante costume, right?" Kevin asked one frost-covered morning, his hands clenched tight enough to rip the front page of that day's paper.

"Yeah, I helped put it together. Why?"

"You think it's warm enough?"

"Oh, uh, it's pretty well-insulated." Neil smiled, but there was a strained twitch to his expression that made it obvious that he knew why Kevin was asking. As if to banish those thoughts from both their minds, he forced his smile a little wider while twisting his hands anxiously under the table. "Ryan's gonna be fine. And if it gets too cold, then he knows where to go, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Back here."

Kevin didn't bother saying what they were both already thinking: that if Ryan wanted to come back to their clubhouse, back to them, then he already would have.

*

Ryan held his breath as he crouched atop the apartment building's fire escape. If he exhaled, then his breath would puff out in front of him and give away his location. His body already ached from having to stay frozen in that position for as long as he had, and the cold was only making matters worse. He was deeply grateful for his gloves; he didn't think he'd be able to stand gripping the frost-coated metal with bare hands.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the door to the apartment beneath him opened and his target stepped out onto their balcony. The target--a middle-aged woman with graying hair dyed pink--leaned over the balcony railing with a heavy sigh and reached into the pocket of her winter coat. A moment later, a puff of smoke filled the air around her--not just her breath made visible by the frigid December air, but cigarette smoke. Not technically illegal out here, but it should have been. What if there happened to be a plant or animal out on this balcony? There wasn't any that he could see, but… in any case, it went against Ryan's sense of justice, which many would argue was as incomprehensible as everything else about him.

With the agility of a cat in an acrobatics competition, Ryan leapt off the fire escape and dropped through the air, cape fluttering behind him, to the smoker's level. He came down on her feet-first. A loud, squawking cough erupted from the smoker as Ryan planted a kick to her back. The force sent her falling against and nearly over the rail; Ryan caught her by the hood of her coat and flung her back toward the door.

"Smoking in public," he spat. "Disgraceful. You're a hazard to everyone around you."

The cigarette dropped from the woman's dangling jaw as she gaped at him. It went out as soon as it landed on the snow-dusted balcony, but Ryan stamped on it and ground it beneath his heel anyway for good measure.

"Wha… you…" Her gaze flickered over Ryan, landing on his mask. "Oh, christ, are you that vigilante who's been going around beating people to death over nothing?"

"No!" he snapped, inadvertently using his natural voice. Upon realizing his mistake, he flushed with embarrassment, cleared his throat, and tried again in the proper gravelly tone. "Not over nothing. I make sure every criminal in this city receives their punishment."

With that, he lunged toward the smoker with his hand tightened into a karate-chop position. He made short work of her, as he did with all his targets. Within seconds, she was sprawled unconscious on the ground, with several bones twisted out of place. (Can't you see how crazy this has all gotten?) Was it harsh? Of course. (We're afraid of you.) Harsher than was strictly necessary, even? Maybe. (You're a horrible fascist.) But it was what he was meant to do, and… well, there wasn't much severe crime in Plymouth, so he had to make do with fighting what was presented to him.

The smoker had left the door to her apartment open behind her. Ryan dragged her back inside before taking off. Didn't want to just leave her exposed to the elements.

After that, he had to get out of there as fast as possible, which in this case meant descending the fire escape three steps at a time. Although he didn't think anyone had seen him, you could never be too careful with big buildings like this. There was always a chance someone could have seen and called the cops. Ryan had dealt with the police around twelve times too many in the past month, and it hadn't always gone well--he could begrudgingly admit that he probably owed his life to being held up in a jail cell over a couple of the colder nights recently, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

While he was running through the apartment complex's courtyard, muscles coiling in preparation to jump the fence, a high-pitched laugh from nearby caught his attention. Ryan froze up, a chill running through him. He turned to see a strange man in a bowler hat leaning against a tree, twirling his mustache.

"My, how marvelous," the stranger crooned. "You certainly gave that miscreant a run for her money."

Ryan approached the stranger with narrowed eyes. "Who are you?" he inquired, trying not to let any apprehension reveal itself through his growl.

"Why, you haven't heard of me?" The stranger raised his hand and snapped his fingers, only to pause and frown when nothing happened. "…Ah, right, the background music is only rigged up for when I'm in my lair. Well, anyway! I'm the Misery Meister, and I believe my goal in life is remarkably aligned with yours. What do you say to the two of us teaming up?"

"Teaming up?" But vigilantes work alone, don't they? Then again, maybe not all of them did; Ryan had never actually met another crime-fighter before. He decided to err on the side of caution with his next question: "What's in it for me?"

"Oh, all sorts of useful things… room and board, for example. I've been watching you for some time now, Mr. Murphy, and you don't have a proper home base, do you?" The Misery Meister laughed, in a tone somewhere between a giggle and a cackle, at the way Ryan squirmed at that question. "That won't do if you plan to keep up this crime-fighting business all through the winter. You could freeze to death without a lair to go back to at night, you know."

As if to accentuate that point, he raised his hand--also gloved, Ryan noticed; he felt a faint twinge of kinship toward this strange person--and gave a wriggle of his fingers. A bluish-white glow began forming in the Misery Meister's palm, and the temperature of the surrounding air suddenly dropped a few degrees. Ryan shuddered.

"If you work with me, I can keep you safe and secure up on Misery Mountain." As he said this, the meister closed his hand, and the ball of ice energy disappeared. "In return, you can… hmm, do a few favours for me. Simple things that I'm sure you can manage. Does that sound like a fair arrangement?"

Ryan paused to consider the offer. He knew all too well the dangers his current lifestyle posed, from bad weather to the police--even now, as he thought this over, he was tensely surveying the area to make sure there were no flashing red and blue lights coming his way--to the possibility that one day he'd encounter a more serious criminal who could hold their own against him in a fight. Teaming up with someone with… ice powers, it seemed?… and apparently a secure place of dwelling could certainly help him out. And, he rationalized, if this Misery Meister fellow turned out to be untrustworthy, Ryan could always just stop working with him.

"Alright," he decided, extending his hand for a shake. "Partners in crime-fighting."

It was only once they were already en route to the Misery Meister's mountaintop hideout that Ryan realized the meister had never actually mentioned crime-fighting. But he had to be another vigilante, right? After all, who else would dress and act like that, and have supernatural powers?

*

The truth was that this arrangement had very little to do with Ryan's abilities or his innate potential as a human being or anything ridiculous like that. It was just that, after spending weeks remotely monitoring everyone in the area, it was clear that this so-called vigilante was the most consistently miserable person in Plymouth county. That made him the perfect specimen to extract DNA anticultures from in order to concoct an anti-happiness elixir. Naturally, someone as powerful as the Misery Meister had other ways of obtaining DNA samples. But if he could obtain those samples while also getting a capable bodyguard/servant to carry out his evil bidding, well, that was just a convenient bonus.

He made sure to start Ryan off slow so as not to scare him off right away. Housekeeping, shooing away hapless trespassers, finding new traffic signs for him to spray paint--things like that, that anyone could do. If Ryan was bothered by being assigned such simple tasks, he did a good job hiding it. Clearly he was more desperate for a place to call home, not to mention some direction in life, than he'd let on.

A few days into their arrangement, one of his monitors started going off. "What?" he gasped. "Somebody's happy in Plymouth?!" Sure enough, the words "happiness alert" blinked on the green-tinted screen beneath live footage of two young men--around Ryan's age, by the looks of it, but that didn't seem relevant or noteworthy--one of whom was petting a dog. It didn't take long to discern that the dog was the source of the young men's happiness. Which meant there was an easy way to deal with it…

"Ryan, come in here," he called, tapping his finger against the little bell he'd installed on his desk to summon his servant. "There's an errand I want you to go on."

Ryan entered quickly, obedient as always. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, as he always did when addressed by name, but he had yet to come up with any monikers that he would rather be called. "What is it, sir?"

The Misery Meister motioned to his monitor. "Look at this. The dog is making these boys happy. I want you to remove it."

To his surprise, when Ryan leaned in to look at the monitor, he stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath. His lips moved, apparently mouthing a name, or multiple names. The Misery Meister raised his eyebrows, intrigued. Ryan didn't know these people, did he? …Ah, but if he does, that could be a new opportunity to spread even more misery…

"Sir, you want me to…" Ryan looked at the monitor and visibly gulped before looking back at the Misery Meister with a poorly hidden grimace. "You want me to kill Roc--I mean, the dog?"

"Kill it? Oh, I didn't even think of that! Should I have you kill it? …No, that's not necessary," he decided. "Just capture it and bring it back here."

"Capture it. Right." There was an audible waver to Ryan's deep, gravelly voice that made the Misery Meister wonder, not for the first time, if maybe that wasn't his natural voice. Still, Ryan clenched his jaw and gave a stiff nod. "Yes, sir. I can do that."

*

Ryan didn't stop thinking about what he saw on the monitor for the rest of the day. Watching the men who he had considered his dear friends smiling and laughing amongst themselves… admittedly, some part of him was glad for them. But later that day, as he replayed the footage in his head with some details slightly distorted by memory, a painful twinge of jealousy stirred in Ryan's gut. It was accompanied by a residual pang of betrayal--a startlingly poignant sensation even a month after the fact.

Look at them, carrying on like that. Like everything was normal… well, maybe everything was finally normal for them now. After all, I was the weird one, wasn't I? With me out of the way, things are probably better for them.

With that thought, the roiling mix of emotions swirling within him calcified into a hard, cold bitterness thick enough to choke on. Yes, it all seemed so obvious now. He had made his choice to leave his former friends behind, and now both himself and those "friends" were doing better than ever. Maybe having ever become friends with those two was a mistake. Clearly they didn't need him, and he certainly didn't need them, either.

*

What Ryan didn't see, looking at low-res footage on a computer with the volume muted, was that the happiness detected by the monitor was diluted by melancholy. In fact, just a few short minutes before the happiness alert started going off, Neil had been on the verge of tears.

He'd been trying to figure out a holiday cookie recipe, but even though he was following the recipe to the letter, the results just weren't turning out how they were supposed to. He could only assume that Ryan had some sort of secret ingredient to make them taste right. Even though it had been several weeks already, his first thought upon coming to this realization was, Oh, then I'll just ask Ryan what that ingredient is. Of course that wasn't how secret ingredients worked, so Ryan probably wouldn't have told him even if he had been around--heck, if Ryan was around, then he could be the one doing the baking like usual and they wouldn't be in this situation.

But none of that would cross Neil's mind until later. In the moment, upon having that thought, he poked his head out of the kitchen and opened his mouth to call Ryan's name, only for it to die on his tongue when he remembered that his friend wasn't around anymore.

"Oh, hey, Neil," Kevin greeted him from his position on the couch. "Everything going okay in there?"

"Not really," Neil admitted. He wiped his flour-coated hands off on his pants and moved to sit down next to Kevin. He noticed there was a newspaper on the end table--unsurprising; Kevin had been very vigilant about keeping up with the news lately. Neil picked up the paper and thumbed through it. "Any more reports of vigilante attacks?"

"Not today."

That was the answer he'd expected. It had been a few days now without any reports of vigilante activity, and at this point they were both pretty worried. Although Kevin's countenance was outwardly calm now, Neil had seen him pacing around the living room muttering to himself earlier. That was what had prompted Neil to try baking something in the first place--an attempt to cheer them up and get their minds off things.

"Well, at least…" Kevin added after a moment in a quieter, more weary voice, "There's nothing in the obituaries, either."

Neil grimaced and looked away so Kevin wouldn't see him tearing up. That effort was probably undone, though, by the warble that he couldn't keep out of his voice as he rattled off the same empty assurance that the two of them had been repeating back and forth to themselves and each other for a month now. "Right, so… there's no reason to think anything bad happened to him. He's fine."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, with the only sound being the faint rustling of the newspaper as Kevin picked it back up and started looking through it again, as if searching for any relevant news he'd missed the first time around. Neil realized after a minute that he'd left a batch of cookies in the oven and they were going to burn, but he didn't bother getting up to take them out. They probably weren't going to turn out very good, anyway. Just like how their last webisode, the one about fishing, hadn't turned out very good. The studio had said it was boring because nothing interesting happened in it. If Ryan had still been onboard their team, he could have come up with a way to add conflict to the narrative, but without him… it seemed like nothing Neil or Kevin did was turning out properly.

However, as soon as the oven's timer beeped, there came the scuffle of paws against the kitchen floor, followed by the sound of the oven opening and the clatter of the tray being removed. Neil gasped in delight as Rocky trotted up to them, tail wagging, with the tray of cookies in her mouth.

"Hey, there's a good girl!" Kevin reached down to scratch her behind the ears while Neil took the tray and set it atop the end table.

"Let's see how they turned out," said Neil. He was admittedly still skeptical that this batch would have turned out any better than his previous seven attempts (he'd been at this baking thing all day; was it any wonder he was getting a little frustrated?) but Rocky showing up to help like this felt like a good sign. She tended not to get involved with lost causes, which might have been why she didn't usually help them out with their webisodes.

And to his pleasant surprise, when he bit into a cookie, he found that it tasted… if not exactly like the ones Ryan made, then at least the closest to it that he'd gotten all day. Similar enough that he could close his eyes and imagine that it was Ryan who had made them, and that he was sitting right there next to them, and they'd all apologized to each other and everything was fine. As quickly as that illusion faded when Neil opened his eyes, it lingered just long enough to implant a genuine comforting warmth within him. For what must have been the first time in weeks, he smiled.

"It's a good thing we've still got Rocky, huh?" Kevin murmured, vocalizing what Neil had just been thinking. As if to punctuate that statement, the dog jumped up and licked his cheek, prompting a little huff of laughter from Kevin and subsequently from Neil as well.

"Heh, yeah, we can always count on her to lift our spirits!" Neil reached over to give her a pat on the head, eliciting a happy bark in response. "Things don't seem so bad when she's around."

Things were still bad, of course, and this moment of semi-cheerful respite wouldn't last long. But when their beloved dog was jumping up on the couch to clamber onto Kevin's lap even though she was much too big to fit there comfortably, it was hard not to laugh. It was hard not to be happy, even if it was just for a minute.

*

Freshly fallen snow crunched beneath Ryan's boots as he made his way through the forest at a quick pace. According to the monitor in the lair, his target was currently in this area. Out on a walk, no doubt. He tried to ignore the acidic sting of guilt that rose higher in him with every step. In his pocket, his hand curled around the drugged hot dog he was supposed to use to capture the target. He wouldn't use it, he decided. Not unless he had to. Unlike some people--the image of a bottle of chloroform flashed through his mind, and his scowl deepened--he would only stoop to such tactics as a last resort.

It wasn't long until he heard a set of all-too-familiar voices coming through the trees up ahead. Despite going into this mission knowing full well that he was going to encounter his old friends, hearing them in person from what couldn't have been more than a few metres away froze Ryan in his tracks. Holding his breath, he ducked behind the closest tree as their voices grew closer.

"What about that one?"

"That's a rock."

They were out looking for a tree, he realized. Yes, just as he thought--carrying on just fine without him. Keeping his back pressed flat against the tree, Ryan cautiously turned his head as far as he could to catch a glimpse of them without revealing his presence. His heart was pounding all the while. While his vigilante outfit had served him well for prowling the streets late at night, it didn't do much for stealth in broad daylight against all this snow. Luckily, they passed him by without noticing. Their canine companion, however, paused to raise its head and sniff curiously.

The dog. The target. An it, not a she. Yes, that was how he forced himself to think of it, the terms he had to conceptualize this mission with. If he stopped lying to himself for even a second, if he let himself acknowledge that these were his friends and their dog--that this was Rocky, and his mission was to steal her from Kevin and Neil… then he wouldn't be able to go through with it. But he had to do this.

(Why did he have to do it? What was he trying to prove? Hadn't he told himself a few short days ago that he didn't have to keep working for the Misery Meister if he didn't like it? Ryan didn't want to think about those questions, either. He just wanted to get this mission over with and get back to the lair.)

While his former friends were busy picking out a tree, Ryan stepped out of hiding and made a soft clicking sound with his tongue. Rocky immediately perked up and ran over to him, tail wagging. The dog's utter lack of apprehension at approaching him only made the vice of guilt squeeze tighter around his heart. But she must not understand, he told himself. Despite being a fervent animal rights activist (at least according to the unauthorized biography that Kevin had written about them with the claim that he was going to show it to his grandkids one day) Ryan had to imagine there was some discrepancy in the intelligence of humans compared to animals. Rocky probably didn't understand why he had left, and she surely didn't know his intentions for showing up again now. If only his human friends shared the same willingness to approach him, maybe he wouldn't have had to leave…

He banished those thoughts with a shake of his head. This wasn't the time to stew in resentment towards either himself or his friends. But he could use Rocky's naive trust to his advantage.

"Come on, girl," he whispered, patting his knee. "Follow me."

Rocky barked out her agreement loudly enough to make Ryan wince.

"Ah, no, don't bark," he told her in a whisper. "Quiet, okay? Good girl."

He realized with a twinge of discomfort as Rocky obediently shut her muzzle and set off after him that this was the first time in days (or was it weeks?) that he had intentionally used his natural voice. At this point, a normal person's throat would be irrevocably wrecked from constantly keeping up that intimidating vigilante growl. But he slipped back into his original voice all too easily. It was like his very biology wanted him to drop the vigilante act. It's not an act, though, he reminded himself. It's who I am. Anyone who can't accept that isn't really my friend.

Although Rocky initially trotted after Ryan without hesitation, she slowed to a stop once he got a few metres away. When he realized that the sound of her pawsteps behind him had stopped, he turned to see her sitting in place, tilting her head to look back the way they came.

"No, we're going this way."

She whined and thumped her tail against the ground. Ryan sighed and shook his head. He walked over and looped his hand through Rocky's collar, then gave a gentle tug to urge her forward. She didn't budge; he tugged harder on the collar, but all that accomplished was making her whine louder.

"I know, girl," Ryan murmured, running a hand over her back. He wished he could take his gloves off so he could feel the soft silkiness of her fur, but that would be unprofessional… maybe back at the lair. "But Neil and Kevin can't come with us. I know you think you need them, that they're your friends, but…" His hand clenched tighter around her collar, and he stuffed his other hand back in his pocket, where it wrapped around the drugged hot dog. "They're not our friends. We don't need them. Let's just get out of here, and I can introduce you to someone who really understands what's important."

Rocky blinked and tilted her head, the picture of confusion. It would be cute--well, it was cute, but he'd be able to appreciate that cuteness better under different circumstances. As it was, the dog's puzzled expression only served to tighten the noose of guilt around his throat.

"Come on," he whispered one final time, with a desperate plea hidden just below the surface of his words: Don't make me drug you. Don't make me stoop to their level.

In the end, Rocky took one last reluctant glance at the clearing behind them and then followed after Ryan. Whether that was because of anything he said or just because she smelled food in his pocket, he couldn't say. Either way, he arrived back at Misery Mountain with the dog in tow, and the Misery Meister ushered her into a kennel and praised Ryan for completing his mission.

*

Ryan tried to ignore the persistent stirring of unease within him as he watched the news report displayed in the Misery Meister's flickering magic screen. While his employer cackled with delight next to him, he couldn't bring himself to smile at the sight of his former friends in such an obvious state of stress and anxiety.

"One trillion dollars for the return of our dog…"

"What do you think, Ryan?" the Misery Meister asked, laying a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Quite the pathetic display, isn't it? Those 'new kids on the rock' will never see their beloved mutt again!"

"Right…" Ryan tore his eyes away from the screen and glanced over his shoulder at the caged dog behind them. Yes, it was a cage, not a kennel. He could acknowledge that much, even if it made him uncomfortable.

He had no idea what the Misery Meister planned on doing with Rocky, if anything--as much as his employer liked to loudly announce his plans to himself when he was alone, he was highly secretive about everything when asked directly. But it would be okay, Ryan told himself, although he had trouble believing it. Rocky was still being fed--mostly by him--and he would stick his hand through the bars of the cage to pet her whenever the Misery Meister wasn't looking. And if the meister's plan did involve hurting her at some point… well, Ryan wouldn't let any harm, direct or otherwise, come to the dog. Even if protecting Rocky would lead to him being exiled from the temporary home he'd managed to secure for himself, even if he wound up back on the streets… that would be worth it, right? Or would it?

Ryan wished he could be more certain of where his priorities lay. As it was, he was kept awake at night by all the questions plaguing his mind like a swarm of hornets.

On the screen, the news report concluded with Neil looking into the camera and delivering a speech.

"We've already lost one good friend this year. We really don't want to lose another. Ryan Murphy, if you're out there watching this, please come home. We miss you a lot, too. And if you know where Rocky is, then please bring her home too. Thank you."

Ryan flinched at the mention of his name. He stole a glance at the Misery Meister to see if he had registered it, but his master's icy smile gave nothing away. Neil's wide, plaintive eyes stared back at him from the screen. His speech sounded every bit as heartfelt as Kevin's speech to Ryan in the alleyway had sounded all those weeks ago. And if that speech hadn't been earnest after all, why believe the sentiment behind this one either?

Still, on some level he couldn't help but hope that Rocky would miraculously escape and find her way home somehow. He couldn't be the one to let her out of her cage, because the Misery Meister would know it was him and probably punish him for it. And despite all the promises he made to himself about moral codes and priorities, Ryan couldn't afford to go back to life on the streets and risk freezing to death overnight. This arrangement only sat worse with him with each passing day, but there weren't any feasible alternatives.

It was almost a relief when, a little less than a week after capturing Rocky, the Misery Meister announced that there were a pair of intruders on the mountain. Ryan didn't need to see the footage on the monitor to guess exactly who those intruders were. So they really do care about her, he thought, and inwardly smiled--an expression he didn't dare make outwardly, at least not in front of his master. Maybe that means they really care about me, too… no, now's not the time to be thinking about that.

"Dispose of them for me, will you?"

He nodded, obedient as the dog he had so easily captured a few days prior. "Of course. Right away, sir."

*

"Man, my head hurts," Kevin groaned, rubbing at his temples with a grimace.

A few steps ahead of him, Neil muttered his agreement. "Yeah, that was a pretty rough landing. But at least we're here."

According to Frosty, the spell of channeling their happiness would have worked better with an additional person. With only two of them, he had to drain an increased amount of happiness from each of them, leaving them feeling weak and dizzy. Kevin almost felt like the happiness was still leaking out of him--either that or it was internal bleeding. Hopefully not the latter. Either way, not a great condition to be in while heading into the lair of a potentially dangerous villain. But it was too late to turn back now.

While they made their way up the twisting mountain path to a building that looked like a large warehouse with a lighthouse-esque spire, they stopped to grab a couple of makeshift weapons off the ground. Kevin selected a stone that fit comfortably in his hand, while Neil picked out a branch. Kevin was worried that it was a bit too small to make a good weapon, but Neil assured him that it was deceptively sharp. Once they got to the building, they paused outside the door and exchanged an apprehensive look. What now? It couldn't be as easy as just marching in there and getting their dog back. If they had learned anything from the past few weeks, it was that things could be difficult and have lasting consequences. Still, they had to try. Kevin gave a stiff nod: No way around it. Let's do this. Neil returned the nod with a grim expression that looked jarringly out-of-place on his face, and together they pushed the door open.

The building looked about the way you'd expect a villain's lair to look. A cursory glance around revealed various electronics including a control panel with a flashing red light, but no sign of Rocky. Kevin was about to ask whether they should split up to look for her when a rough, gravelly snarl rang out from across the room.

"Get out of here, intruders, before I make you leave."

Kevin's head snapped up to stare in slack-jawed disbelief at the figure standing in the nearest doorway. Fog of indeterminate origin swirled around his feet as he marched towards them, posture tense but stride confident, masked face set into a scowl. If it weren't for the familiarity of the costume, not to mention the ponytail swishing behind him as he walked, Kevin might not have even recognized him. An unparsable mix of emotions jolted through his system--shock, amazement, confusion, relief, terror.

At his side, Neil gulped and raised a shaky hand to point at the approaching man. "H-hey, isn't that…?"

"Yeah. It is." Kevin addressed the vigilante through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here, Ryan?"

"I'll have you know that I work here," Ryan growled. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yeah, we do," Neil retorted with an accusatory jab of his finger, "Especially if you're the one who kidnapped our dog!"

Ryan came to a stop a few feet ahead of them, close enough that Neil's outstretched finger nearly brushed against the front of his vigilante costume, and crossed his arms. "Rocky followed me here willingly. She must have finally figured out the same thing I did: that you two aren't her real friends."

His voice audibly wavered on that line, although he quickly caught himself. Neil slowly lowered his hand away from Ryan's chest and took a couple steps back. Kevin moved to stand in front of Neil, assuming a defensive fighting stance that he hoped he wouldn't have to use.

"Ryan, seriously, listen to us," Kevin said slowly, doing everything in his power to maintain outward composure even though his heart was hammering hard enough that he wouldn't be surprised if Neil and Ryan could hear it. "We've been really worried about you. We've missed you, a lot. All we want is for you to go back to being our friend."

"And, uh, I'm sorry about the chloroform thing," Neil interjected. "I shouldn't have… I mean, listen, I thought you might be dangerous. I just wanted you to come back with us, whatever that took. We still want that, Ryan, more than anything."

A high-pitched note of pleading crept into Neil's voice at the end there; Kevin thought he could see the beginnings of tears glistening in his friend's eyes. He placed a steadying hand on Neil's shoulder as they watched Ryan's reaction. For a moment, Ryan just stood still and stared back at them, his expression unreadable behind the goggle portion of his mask. He slowly raised a hand toward the mask, as though he was going to take it off, and for a moment hope reignited… but then he paused, lowered his head, and dropped his arms to his sides with his hands clenched into fists.

"I'm sorry. I can't do that."

*

There was no way around it. Ryan had to fight them. He went into this confrontation, such as it was, knowing he had to fight them. They were traitors, liars who never really cared about him, discarded fragments of his worthless former life… even just looking at them now, listening to their pleas, ignited a seething resentment in his chest. How could they still pretend to genuinely care about him?

(Unless of course they weren't pretending, and they really meant it, and he was the one in the wrong and he could fix everything here and now by agreeing to go back home with them… No. No, he couldn't start thinking like that. Even if Neil and Kevin really did want to be his friends again, it was too late for that. Ryan had his orders.)

"This is your final warning," he growled. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword--a weapon whose existence he frequently forgot about altogether, because he'd never encountered a tough enough opponent to warrant drawing a blade. "Leave this place now."

I don't want to have to hurt you, he didn't say. Part of him wondered whether the Misery Meister was monitoring this exchange. If so, he was probably already annoyed with Ryan for letting these trespassers remain unharmed for this long.

"Sorry, but that's not how we operate," Kevin said sharply. He tossed a small object in the air and caught it like a baseball as he spoke--a stone, Ryan realized. Was he planning on using that as a weapon? "We're not leaving without our dog, and we're not afraid to fight to get to her."

"Yeah," Neil added, jabbing his own makeshift weapon--a thin stick, practically a twig--in the air for emphasis. "We're not messing around here!"

Under his breath, Ryan let out a huff of incredulous laughter, although under these circumstances he didn't find it very funny. If he'd been in their position, he'd have at least brought a full-sized brick to fight with. But he wasn't in their position; he was positioned across from them in what was about to become a battlefield. There was no way around this. Ryan took a deep breath, unsheathed his sword, and sprung toward them.

Neil intercepted his first strike with the branch he wielded. The sword sliced through Neil's makeshift weapon like the twig it was, and could have easily sliced his hand off if Ryan had let the momentum carry the blade any further. It still wound up grazing him. Neil yelped and stumbled back, clutching his bloodied hand, while Kevin lunged forward to throw a punch. Ryan swerved to avoid the attack, then raised his sword above Kevin's head and let it hover there for a second. It would be so easy to kill them if he wanted. And then he would never have to worry about them again. Wouldn't that be easier? Wouldn't that be better?

"No," Ryan whispered aloud, his hands almost involuntarily weakening their grip on his blade. "No, I don't want that."

No sooner had those words left his mouth than something sharp poked into his shoulder. With an indignant yelp, he looked behind him to find that Neil had jabbed him with what remained of his stick. The moment Ryan turned to swat the stick away, something hard connected with the back of his head--the rock. Not a very strong hit, but it was enough to momentarily stun him. He stumbled forward, directly into the path of another jab from Neil's branch. This one struck his cheek, and it actually stung. Ryan rubbed at his cheek with a grimace and then took another swing with his sword. This time Kevin knocked the blade aside with the stone. Ryan let the sword clatter out of his grasp and made no move to pick it up; likewise, neither of his opponents made any move to grab it for themselves. Instead Kevin hit him with a punch to the jaw, nowhere near as hard as he could have, and Neil jabbed him with the broken twig again.

Ryan groaned, out of frustration with himself rather than from pain. Obviously none of them wanted to be doing this, so…

"Why don't you just leave?" he asked through gritted teeth. "Rocky is fine. You don't have to worry about her. Just get out of here before I get serious."

"Oh, only getting serious now, are we?"

Ryan froze, a shiver running down his spine, at the sound of his master's lilting tone. The Misery Meister stepped out from behind a piece of machinery, watching the tableau before him with steepled fingers and a manic grin. Looking at his employer's countenance, Ryan was once again reminded of himself. Was this how he appeared to others? Well, of course it was--that was how he tried to appear most of the time. But did it delight people, or did it actually scare them in an unpleasant way? Ryan had always thought that he was only spooky in a fun way, but now he had to wonder…

"I see you've met my servant here," the Misery Meister went on, laying his hands on Ryan's shoulders and flashing Neil and Kevin a menacing grin. "It's such a shame he's not on your side anymore. Well, Ryan?" He traced a finger across Ryan's face to tilt his chin up; Ryan shuddered at the touch. "Are you going to take care of these intruders, or do I have to finish the job myself?"

"I told them to leave," Ryan mumbled. He looked back at his friends--former friends, he reminded himself, but that bit of mental recitation did nothing to ease the tension that permeated his body and calcified into a knife in his heart. "Sir, can't they just have the dog? We're not doing anything with her anyway, so--"

"What? Of course not!" the Misery Meister gasped, reeling back and laying a hand over his heart. "That would increase the total amount of happiness in the world. I would sooner die than let that happen!" Then something flashed in his eyes, and a wicked grin spread over his face. "Speaking of dying… heh, yes, I know just how to deal with these little pests…"

A chilling spike of dread jabbed through Ryan with those words. He grabbed his master by the sleeve and shook his head vehemently, lips drawing back in a grimace.

"S-sir, what are--no, no, you can't," he stammered, his vigilante voice dropping away in this moment of panic. "You can't kill them!"

"Oh, can't I?"

Still grinning, the Misery Meister reached into his pocket and drew out a sleek pistol. The weapon gleamed as he leveled it at Kevin and Neil, who gasped and recoiled at the sight of it. Ryan's eyes widened behind his mask. No! The Misery Meister was making some villainous speech now--yes, villainous, he was so clearly a villain, how could I have been so willfully ignorant?!--but Ryan didn't hear a word his master was saying. His senses were laser-focused on that gun, and the hand wrapped around it, ready at any moment to--

The Misery Meister's finger twitched against the trigger. Too quickly to formulate a single thought, let alone consider all the potential consequences, Ryan moved on pure instinct. He grabbed the Misery Meister's arm and wrenched it to the side as hard and fast as he could. A loud crack rang out in unison with the echoing bang of a barely misfired gunshot, and the Misery Meister shrieked.

"Why, you… you just broke my arm!"

Ryan offered no snappy comeback to that remark the way Kevin or Neil might have. There was no room for words in his mind; in that moment, it was reduced to a void of rage. He moved on instinct, with all the force and swiftness that the meister would have had him attack his friends with: a karate chop to the neck, a punch to the stomach, a kick in the shins to knock him off balance. At some point the gun went off again; a loud metal clang indicated that this time the bullet found its mark in the spray-painted stop sign hung up on the wall. He didn't let up for a second. Soon he had the Misery Meister backed into a corner, bloodied and gasping. The glint of fear in his eyes gave Ryan a vindictive thrill as he drew back for one final decisive strike. That's what you get for threatening my friends.

Then the Misery Meister pressed his wrists together, and a flash of blinding blue filled Ryan's vision. He flinched at the sudden shock of cold, and then…

*

Neil watched the fight breathlessly, heart hammering with equal parts fear and excitement. This was just like before, he thought, when Ryan had fought off that thug who wanted to steal their ice creams--the encounter that had started this whole mess in the first place. Sure, the stakes were a whole lot higher now (that was where the fear part of the fear-and-excitement came in, because holy crap that guy has a gun we're all gonna die) but at the same time, it was like everything was coming full circle. And Ryan, he realized with a slowly forming incredulous grin, was defending them.

"You see that, Kevin?" Neil whispered. "He really does still want to be our friend!"

"Yeah…" Kevin gave a slow nod, just as wide-eyed as Neil but with a little more apprehension. "I just hope he comes out on top."

"What are you saying, of course he's gonna win!" Neil grinned and clapped Kevin on the back as a bullet whizzed by a few feet away from them and lodged itself in the "stop smiling" sign. "I mean, look at him, he's totally kicking that guy's--"

There was a flash, and the room's temperature suddenly dropped several degrees. Neil flinched and rubbed his eyes. The sight that met him when his vision cleared made his blood run cold.

Ryan was frozen mid-lunge, arm poised above his head to bring down a finishing karate chop. Frozen, in a very literal sense. His body was encased in glowing blue ice, vigilante cape hanging stiffly behind him and all.

Neil and Kevin screamed in unison, while the Misery Meister cackled. Before they could turn and run, the meister stepped out from behind Ryan's frozen form and, with his non-broken arm and nothing in the way to redirect his shot this time, fired his gun at them. Thinking fast, Neil grabbed a random object off the nearest surface--a handheld mirror--and held it up like a shield. He let out a sigh of relief as the bullet bounced off the mirror and flew back across the room…

…Directly into Ryan's back.

A shrill scream split the air; it took a moment for Neil to register that the sound came from his own mouth. The mirror slipped from his fingers, which turned suddenly numb along with the rest of him. Countless shards of shattered glass scattered in a hundred different directions when the mirror hit the floor, just like the explosion of blood-soaked flecks of ice where the bullet tore straight through Ryan's frozen body, leaving a gaping, crumbling hole in its wake.

"Ah… ahhh…" Neil raised his trembling hands slowly up his face to clutch at his hair. He took a step back and then promptly dropped to his knees as his incoherent screams crescendoed into a wail. "AAAHHHH!"

"Get ahold of yourself, man!" Kevin told him, clamping a hand on his arm. "We can help Ryan after we deal with that misery moron."

"Help him? No, we can't… can't you see?" Neil shook his head wildly, while his nails dug into his scalp hard enough to sting. An image of a dark alleyway flashed through his mind, of him standing there with a bottle of chloroform still in his hand and watching Ryan run away, making no move to go after him. Of a hidden room with pictures of Ryan's ancestors, and a lie Neil made up on the spot just to mess around, not thinking anything serious would come of it. And now… "H-he's dead! And it's all because of me, I--I killed him, Kevin!"

The bullet's force--the bullet he had redirected--had shattered the area of impact like glass. Now half of Ryan's back was gone, reduced to a pile of blood-soaked slush on the floor. The gaping crater around where the bullet had hit narrowed into a roughly fist-sized hole that went the rest of the way through him. More of that ghastly slurry of half-melted ice and human tissue dribbled out through the hole. Spreading out from the hole itself were dozens of cracks, some just hairline fractures, others wide enough that they were bleeding too… if you could call it bleeding. Bleeding, melting, whatever it was--the structural integrity was collapsing.

"My, how excellent," the Misery Meister trilled. "It seems that in your moment of brilliant self-preservation, you disposed of my traitorous servant for me!" He flashed his maniacal grin over his shoulder at the half-shattered chunk of ice that had been Ryan. "Don't worry, my brave little vigilante, your precious friends will be joining you very soon."

As he said this, the cracks in the ice spread out until there was nothing holding Ryan's body together. At that point, the frozen figure collapsed in on itself. Chunks of ice and flesh crumbled apart and came crashing down into a pile of sludge on the floor. My fault my fault he's dead and it's all my fault--

Kevin grabbed Neil tight by the shoulders and shouted something, probably another attempt at reassurance, but Neil couldn't make it out over the blood rushing in his head. All he could do was scream and cry and shake beneath the crushing weight of the realization that he had gotten his friend killed.

*

"Neil? Neil!" Kevin grabbed his friend by the shoulders and jostled him, but Neil just kept wailing and shaking his head. "Damn it… he's totally out of it."

A shrill laugh diverted his attention back to the Misery Meister, who was now walking slowly toward them, still aiming his gun. "One down, two to go," he said in a lilting, sing-song tone. "Let's see… which of you wants to join your friend first, hmm?"

Kevin gritted his teeth and glared back defiantly at the Misery Meister. His already burning rage toward the villain, now further ignited, clashed with surging panic. What are we gonna do? The mirror lay broken at Neil's feet--couldn't use that trick a second time. Kevin's gaze swept across the room and landed on Ryan's discarded sword. If he made a quick enough dash for it, maybe…

He sprinted for the weapon like an athlete trying to score a touchdown in the last five seconds of the game. Two gunshots rang out, prompting a wince from him as he ran; one bullet whizzed so close over his head that he was pretty sure it skimmed off a couple hairs. He grabbed the sword and charged straight into the path of a third bullet. This time the bullet bounced off the blade, leaving a crack in the metal which Kevin paid no mind to. He didn't have any long-term plans for this weapon, and besides, a broken blade with a jagged edge could make just as good a weapon as an intact one.

"This is for kidnapping Rocky!" he proclaimed as he slashed the blade across the Misery Meister's chest. The blade shattered upon impact, leaving him with half a sword in his hand but every bit as much rage to drive him.

The Misery Meister stumbled backward with a hiss, firing another shot as he did so. This time the bullet grazed Kevin's shoulder. He clutched at the injury with a pained hiss, while with his other hand he readjusted his grip on what remained of the sword. He couldn't let a minor injury slow him down now. One more press of the trigger followed by a click and a string of curses revealed that the Misery Meister was out of bullets. Kevin smirked. He charged forward and took another swipe, this time slashing the jagged strip of metal across his opponent's face.

"That's for making Neil cry! And this…" He drew back the blade and, with all the strength he could summon, thrust it deep into the Misery Meister's chest. "This is for Ryan!"  

"My heart," the Misery Meister gasped, eyes widening as he stared down at the hilt of the blade protruding from his chest. "My heart…."

With that final pathetic declaration, his body spiraled in on itself and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Kevin coughed and waved the smoke out of his face, only to yelp at the pain that shot through his grazed shoulder when he moved that arm. It was just a surface wound, he'd been hurt worse just from playing sports, but it sure stung like a bitch. He backed away on unsteady feet, face twisting into an agonized grimace as blood seeped through his sweater and onto the hand he clutched his shoulder with. His other hand, dangling at his side, released the broken blade and let it clatter to the floor. He wouldn't be needing that thing anymore. And, well… neither would Ryan.

Silence fell over the room as Kevin trudged back over to Neil and helped him to his feet. Neil seemed to have stopped shaking and crying, but there was a glassy look in his eyes now, and he was unresponsive to Kevin's assurances that they were safe. When Kevin followed Neil's shell-shocked gaze to the crumbled pile of melting ice and flesh, his stomach heaved. The whole sickening mess was seeping into the floorboards now, leaving a glistening stain in its wake--a person, their friend, reduced to that.

"…Come on, Neil." Swallowing down the choking grief in his throat, Kevin put his arm around his friend's quivering frame and guided him across the room. "Let's get Rocky and get out of here."

As he walked past the remains, while being sure to steer Neil's head away from the sight, he could have sworn he saw a detached blue eye blinking up at him before it dissolved into red-tinted slush and disappeared.

***

-FOUR MONTHS LATER-

In the most luxurious mansion in all of Plymouth county, a young man in a finely-pressed suit reclined in a state-of-the-art gamer chair. On the widescreen monitor before him lay a virtual world with the most dazzling 3D graphics the 21st century had to offer. And it was his, all his, for he was the only kid in town who could afford such a high-end game.

"Ah, how being rich pays off," Mitch said to nobody in particular, smirking as he pressed the series of keys that would deliver a devastating finishing blow to his virtual enemies. If only he could enact the same level of violence against those who opposed him in real life… Hmm, perhaps I'll look into hiring a bodyguard.

After playing for a while (he wasn't sure how long exactly; it was so easy to lose track of time when he had all the time in the world to do whatever he wanted) thirst began to claw at his throat. He reached for his glass of the finest wine in the world, only to find that it was already empty--and all his servants were busy with the dishes and laundry right now, so he couldn't summon one of them to refill it. Mitch regarded the empty glass with a scowl. Did he have to do everything for himself around here?

With great irritation, he paused the game and went over to the kitchen to grab the wine bottle off the counter. His annoyance only grew as he realized that the kitchen sink was running, but nobody was currently manning it. Did his good-for-nothing servants want to flood the place?

"That settles it," he decided. "Their pay is getting docked again this month. And if this keeps up, I'll have all the staff laid off and replaced by someone more competent!"

However, when he tried to turn the tap off, he was startled to discover that it wouldn't budge. A steady stream of icy water--far icier than the faucet's position indicated it should be--poured into the sink until it threatened to overflow. Then, when Mitch leaned over the sink to figure out what on earth was going on, a hand shot out of the sink and grabbed him by the throat.

"Gah! Wh-what--aughh!!"

He screamed and flailed, but the hand had a solid grip despite seeming to be made of water. As Mitch looked on in heart-stopping horror, another hand reached out, and then both appendages extended into arms… and then a full body, stepping gracefully out of the sink as it took solid shape. Mitch found himself face-to-face with a masked vigilante clad in a hat and cape, and gloved hands squeezing painfully tight around his neck.

"Wh-who are you?!" he managed to choke out.

"My identity is not of your concern," came the vigilante's reply, halfway between a growl and a gurgle; the voice didn't even sound human. Mitch shuddered. "But your actions are inexcusable. Die."

*

Local Deadbeat Millionaire Found Dead-- Third Mysterious Drowning This Month, the front-page newspaper headline proclaimed. Attached was a full-colour photo of the drowning victim in question, facedown in a bafflingly large and ornate kitchen sink. There was something on the counter next to the sink… Kevin squinted at the photo, holding the paper closer to his face. Was that a strand of long brown hair? It wasn't high-definition enough to tell.

"Hey, Neil, you don't think…?"

"What?" Neil glanced up from the four-leafed clover he was absentmindedly fidgeting with. The plant didn't seem to be giving him much luck so far, but it gave him something to keep his hands and by extension his mind occupied, and the bright green leaves provided a nice splash of colour against the dark clothes he'd taken to wearing since that tragic December day.

Kevin looked back at the paper and skimmed through the article. There was no mention of the hair strands by the sink; apparently the consensus was that one of the victim's servants was responsible for the murder, because the mansion had such tight security that there was no way in or out. "For it to have been an intruder, they would have had to literally come in through the sink," one member of the household staff was quoted as saying. "And as we all know, that's impossible." Kevin lowered the paper with a sigh and shook his head. He didn't know what he was doing, jumping to conclusions based on such flimsy evidence. That was supposed to be Neil's thing, wasn't it? Then again, Neil hadn't exactly been cheerful enough to fill that role lately.

"Ah, never mind. Just wondering what the guy did to piss one of his staff off enough to kill him."

"Well, at least we know we'll never have to mess with him," Neil replied with a weak little half-smile. Then he lowered his head again and went back to silently twisting the clover between his fingers.

"…Yeah, guess not."

Still, for some reason, Kevin couldn't stop thinking of the similarities between this new series of mysterious drowning cases, and the string of "mysterious" vigilante attacks that had come before. And although he wasn't usually one to get his hopes up, he couldn't help but wonder.

-- END -- [....TO BE CONTINUED??] -- [Edit: read the follow-up here!]

[lululawrence]

lululawrence’s Fics Posted in 2019

Master Fic Masterpost / Buy me a Coffee?

2019 was a bit crazy, but I’m so proud of the fics that I’ve been able to write and publish this year! There were quite a few of them, so here they are in order of when they were published. I hope you enjoy!

Hey Look, Ma (9k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“I’m so sorry,” a deep voice said.

Louis made sure he’d only dropped his hat, reached down to pick it up, and was dusting it off when he finally looked up.

“It’s alright...mate…” Louis had seen this man before. He was gorgeous. He lived somewhere in the area, because Louis would often pass him on the street heading home from the tube or the nearest bus stop.

And now, here he was. Standing in all his fluffy, curly haired glory in front of Louis, apologising for nearly bowling him over.

“I really am sorry, though. Let me get you a coffee to make up for it?”

Or the one where Louis is a hybrid who agrees to go on a blind date with his neighbour's colleague's son the same night he literally runs into his dream man. Surely this isn't going to end well... or is it?

Charisma (5k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love.

Drabbles for Harry's Birthday Drive 2019 (25k) - Various Pairings

Each chapter is a different drabble dedicated to a person who donated to Harry's birthday drive! The prompt requested as well as the pairing are in the author’s note for each chapter as well. There are multiple pairings due to various pairings being requested by the donors, so please pay attention to that information in each chapter! Pairings include Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam,, Grimmy/Louis, Greg/Louis,  Zayn/Louis, and Niall/Shawn.

It’s the Climb (25k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis stretched out his back and turned around, startled to see the most beautiful man he’d ever encountered in his life riding towards him on a horse.

He had to still be asleep. This was one of those super weird dreams people had where the knight in shining armor (or in this case, red sleeveless flannel) literally rode up to them calling their name.

The Hannah Montana AU where Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer. In her attempt for Louis to get back to his roots, he just so happens to reconnect with Harry, and things never go quite as Louis expects them to.

It Was Only a Kiss (16k) - Various Pairings

I participated in a kiss prompt drabble challenge on Tumblr, and ended up writing thirty-three drabbles! Because of the amount all for one challenge, I decided to post them on AO3 to save them. Each prompt exists on its own without relation to others, so pick and choose as you like.

If You Want To Be Loved (0.5k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Greg can't sleep. For once, he doesn't really mind.

(Something’s Been) Hiding In My Heart (26k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“My eyes must be deceiving me,” Harry said in his slow drawl. His voice was deeper than Louis remembered. Maybe some things had changed after all.

“They aren’t deceiving you. I’m here because I need you to finally sign these papers,” Louis said before he dropped the stack of paper on the hood of the car and held out a pen to Harry. “Just do it, Harry. Get it over with and then I’ll be out of your life forever, alright?”

Face blank of all emotion outside of a sneer Harry said, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“God,” Louis groaned. Harry just couldn’t let this be easy. His pride wouldn’t allow it. “You know, I never really understood that phrase, but no. I am not ‘shitting’ you. Just sign the damn papers.”

“Ya know, I don’t think I will,” Harry said before turning back to the front door.

When the screen door slammed behind him, Louis realized Harry didn’t have anything else to say.

Or a Sweet Home Alabama AU where Louis comes home to finally get his divorce from Harry finalized so he can move on with his life. Alderford holds its own set of challenges when he returns, but by facing his past maybe he can find the healing he so desperately needs.

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) (36k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

You Turned Up (Like a Friend of Mine) (10k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis padded downstairs, feeling incredibly thirsty. He filled up a glass of water and was about to take a drink when a loud knock sounded at the door accompanied by some yelling and ringing of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” Louis muttered, setting his glass on the counter and rushing towards the door.

As he got closer to the door, though, his mind stopped whirling because the voice was one that was etched forever in his mind, but one that he never thought he would ever hear again.

“Why’s the door locked? Did you seriously go without me? And who’s car is in the driveway? Lou, I knew you’d be late to get me. We’re going to miss-”

Louis whipped the door open, sure that he was just imagining things. There was no way…

Except there was. Standing on the front step was the curly haired, boy-faced Harry Louis had last seen ten years ago today.

Or the one where Harry disappears on graduation day only to show up on Louis' door looking exactly the same ten years later. Through a series of strange events, maybe they can finally figure out that they're destined to be together, no matter what.

Stealing Flowers (4k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

When Louis finally arrived, he walked in and grabbed an apron. Without even saying hello, he immediately approached Jesy and said, “Sexy Stranger steals flowers.”

She kept pouring the Tanqueray shots she had lined up in front of her, but her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m sorry, he what? Did you finally talk to him and that was what you learned?”

He nodded to another couple of tourists and welcomed them to the Way Station as they eagerly made their way to the Tardis restroom.

“No, I didn’t actually talk to him, but—”

“Then how do you know he steals flowers?”

She was wiping down the bar and stacking the empty glasses to take back to the dishwasher when Louis realized maybe he should help too. After all, he was there to work, not just talk to her about his maybe crush.

“I saw a poster.”

Or the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

Yellow, Is It Me You’re Looking For? (3k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Standing in the mess Greg’s shift had left behind, Louis decided he would start small. He’d organise the paint colour cards that displayed the names and then get started on the sample tins. It wasn’t until he started opening the boxes of colour cards that Louis started to wonder whether Nick had been the one to name the paint after all.

Yellow, Is It Me You’re Looking For? was along the top left corner of a mustard yellow card. Nick was as big a fan of puns and music as anyone, so while it was unorthodox, Louis didn’t think too much of it. Part of the appeal of Annie’s Hardware was that they didn’t take things too seriously while always maintaining professionalism.

The names that followed did leave Louis to wonder if Annie knew exactly what the chosen paint names were, though. The Colour Of My Tears When ‘FRIENDS’ Ended for a soft white, Barneys Blood for a pale purple, and Blond. James Blond. for a sand tone had Louis convinced that it was a different co-worker who had renamed the colours.

Or the one where Louis has pined after Greg for what seems like ages, but when Greg renames the company's paint colors, something might finally be ready to give.

Like a Lighthouse On The Coast (I Need You) (19k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis placed his order with the server and was about to type up some possible lyrics when he heard the music being piped in go silent and a throat was cleared into a mic.

Oh God no. If Louis had known there was going to be live music, he would have chosen somewhere else. Why did they have to ruin what was truly the perfect ambiance for Louis with some sub-par wannabe singer-songwriter?

“Hello, I’m going to sing some songs for you tonight. I hope you like them.”

The voice was deep and smooth, slower than Louis had expected. It made him want to look up at the singer rather than cower into the corner of his booth.

So he did. The man didn’t look nervous at all, but he didn’t look like the cocky asshole Louis had been expecting either. Louis continued to brace himself as he took in the simple Ramones shirt and jeans the man was wearing, when something Louis hadn’t been expecting happened.

The man began to play his guitar, and he was good.

And then, the man began to sing.

Or the one where Louis has all the pressure of his sophomore album and none of the inspiration, but maybe all he needs is someone like Harry Styles to turn all that around.

Oh Honey, Honey (4k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis hated honey. He didn’t like the flavour, he didn’t understand why some liked it in their tea, he hated when it was put on sandwiches or cake or anything really. But, standing stock still in front of a rather large display of honey in that 24-hour Tesco, Louis found himself grabbing the largest jar of “100% pure London-local honey” and adding it to his trolley, simply because he knew it would make Harry smile.

Louis always wanted to make Harry smile.

Or the one where Louis pines after Harry, Harry is passionate about helping save the bees, and a late night shopping trip gone wrong doesn't end quite as horribly as Louis imagines.

You Don’t Care About Me (One More Night) (60k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

“Nick. You’re into guys. What should I do?”

Nick snorted. “You think just ‘cause I’m gay, I know what you should do?”

Louis blinked at him and Nick admired his eyelashes against his will. “Well. Kind of, yeah.”

“That is not how this works,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s not like you can just go and suck someone’s dick to be sure you like it the way I did. You’re too famous to try it my way.”

Louis’ expression changed to one of awe. “That’s how you figured it out? You sucked some random’s dick?”

Nick shrugged. “Yeah. Basically. I mean, I knew for pretty damn sure before that, mind you, but that did solidify the matter for me.”

“I need to suck a dick,” Louis said, turning to look at the wall of Nick’s room.

“You could suck mine, if it would help,” Nick offered before he could stop himself.

Or the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

A Taste of Honey (3k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Louis opened the door expecting someone with Deliveroo. Instead his gaze lifted so he could look at a very frazzled, incredibly fluffy haired Greg James who was inexplicably holding out a very large jar of honey.

“Hello, Gregory,” Louis said slowly.

Shifting around, Greg stepped forward and held the honey out towards Louis again. “This is for you.”

“Erm, alright,” Louis said before carefully taking the heavy jar from him. “Thank you?”

Greg flashed a wide grin, nodded, and then without another word walked back out the front door of the building.

Or the one where Louis has been pining after Greg ever since he started his job. Greg randomly showing up at his flat with a jar of honey might be just the push Louis needs to finally talk to the man.

Just Like Honey (3k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis opened the door and he looked so soft and beautiful. He was in a ratty pair of grey joggers and that was it. Harry had never seen him look so good.

When Harry finally raised his eyes from Louis’ chest, he realised Louis had likely said something.

“Uh,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Smirking a little, Louis crossed his arms and popped his hip. “I said, ‘Hello, Harry. What brings you here so late on a Saturday?’”

Then his brain kicked in.

“Right, fuck. Hi, Louis. I just wanted to give you this.”

Louis’ brows creased as Harry held the honey out to him. Taking the jar from Harry, he said, “Honey?”

Nodding, Harry said, “Yep. Hope you have a great night!”

Fisting his hands at his sides in frustration, Harry left the building as quickly as he could.

Honey, Honey, How You Thrill Me (3k) - Greg James/Harry Styles

Harry knocked once more before coming to the conclusion that knocking for longer than that was rude.

He’d just decided to leave when the door opened.

“Fuck, you were asleep, weren’t you?”

“Well, it’s past 8, so yeah, basically,” Greg said with a yawn.

God, he’d been asleep for over an hour. Harry was the worst.

“I’m so sorry. Here. Take this and get back to sleep. I’m so incredibly sorry for waking you up,” Harry babbled, shoving the jar of honey into Greg’s hands.

Greg looked at the jar then back up at Harry, still not saying anything. Probably because his brain was still asleep just like his body would’ve been if Harry hadn’t been a fucking idiot.

“Sorry again!” Harry said before giving a lame wave and rushing off to the nearest tube station.

Or the one where Harry pines after fellow Radio 1 DJ Greg James but doesn't know how to start a conversation with him...until he gets the needed inspiration.

Our Love is Timeless (6k) - Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes

He rinsed out his shampoo and began to scrub at his body. Turning around to rinse his back and wash his front, Shawn was not prepared to be met with a cursing blond Irishman.

Letting out a rather loud, high pitched scream and covering himself as best he could, Shawn backed up into the wall behind him, which also turned off the shower.

“Thanks, mate. Was hoping not to get my clothes entirely soaked,” the man said as he began stepping out of the shower stall. “Say, what year is it?”

“I...what?” Shawn sputtered. “You just show up, fully clothed, in a stranger’s shower and your first question is what year it is? How the fuck did you get in here? Why my shower? Who are you?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so. I’ve not quite got a handle of the whole time traveling thing yet.”

Or the one where Shawn falls for Niall, who just happens to be a time traveler. The course of true love never did run smooth.

Like Honey to the Bee (3k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

Nick didn’t even remember knocking, but suddenly the door he also didn’t realise he was leaning on opened and he started falling inside Louis and Harry’s flat.

“Fuck,” Nick blurted as he tried to right himself. He was caught by Louis, which was great because he was exactly who he wanted to see and he didn’t really fancy dropping a massive jar of honey on his doorstep.

“Nicholas?” Louis asked.

Nick couldn’t help it. Hearing Louis call him by his full name made him shiver. He usually hated it, but there was something magical about Louis Tomlinson that made the usual negative association suddenly become an incredibly positive one.

“I brought you honey,” Nick blurted as he handed Louis the jar.

“I can see that,” Louis said, sounding confused. “Thanks?”

“Of course! It’s what friends do, yeah?”

Or the one where Nick has been trying to find a way to get past the banter stage with Louis for ages, and honey might be just what he needs to finally do so.

Rings and Things (2k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Niall: I know you’re a lesbian and all, but this is fast even for you

Or the one where Harry wakes up after a night of drinking to find her bed isn't empty and there's a ring she's never seen before on a very important finger.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded (28k) - Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

A Halloween M(ass)hap (1k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was never going to forgive Niall. He’d been so distracted by his roommate’s cleaning and fussing while he had been looking for the perfect trousers for Liam’s annual Halloween fancy dress party that he’d not realised the black leather trousers he’d chosen to complete his vampire look were arseless.

Of course there was a no return policy, so he’d done the only thing he could do in order to not waste the money he’d already forked out online for the damn things: he added a cape.

Surely, nothing could go wrong.

I Wanna Love (Like You Made Me Feel) (28k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

By the time Harry and Louis are eighteen years old, they've known each other all four years of high school. Through those years, they never have a real chance to spend time together just the two of them. The summer after graduation gives them that chance, and it changes just about everything.

Ten years later, Louis returns home feeling like a failure after losing his job and not knowing where to go next. He never expects to run into Harry again, much less rekindle their friendship. Could this finally be their chance to finish what they started all those years ago, or did they really miss their chance at love?

Swipe Right for a Clean Flat (3k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was done. He was over this shit. He literally only asked his flatmate to do one chore, and that was the washing up. He couldn’t even handle a few plates and cups. Harry obviously overestimated him.

Louis wasn’t that bad. It was just that he only did the washing if he was going out to pull and wanted to bring someone home. If the dishes were put away, that was how Harry knew to vacate the premises. There was no way he was going to listen to yet another girl moan Louis’ name while Harry laid in bed and wondered what it might be like if only Louis liked men.

Glaring at the full sink and debating washing up himself - again - Harry finally turned and stalked to his room.

“Dire circumstances,” Harry muttered as he picked up his phone and unlocked it.

Or the one where Harry and Louis are flatmates and Harry is tired of Louis not doing the washing up. He figures signing up on Tinder as a hot girl might be just the fix for this issue.

You’re a Nightmare, I’m a Disaster (7k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

As Nick scanned the shelves, his eyes caught on a bright blue binding. Snooki, it read, A Shore Thing.

“Oh my God,” Nick mumbled, trying not to laugh as he picked it up. He’d watched bits and pieces of Jersey Shore way back in the day.

Without bothering to look any further around the store, he headed up to the counter where Blue eyes was watching him. Nick cleared his throat nervously and set the book on the counter and the man immediately flashed him a look of disdain.

“Seriously? Out of everything we have available, you chose the book we special ordered for a customer?”

“Well, it can’t be that bad if someone specifically requested it, right?” Nick said, trying to keep a teasing tone.

“Why do you think we still have it if it was a special order?” the man asked with a scoff. “They returned it after reading something like three pages.”

Nick frowned at the book. “Well that doesn’t seem very fair.”

Or the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don't exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.

The Goat Guy of Bethlehem (26k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“What a pretty little thing!” a voice cried, catching Harry's attention.

Harry looked up, assuming it was a merchant talking to Gemma or some other “citizen” of Bethlehem, but when he did, he found a woman with bright eyes and long dark hair walking over to him.

“Me?” He wasn’t sure what to expect from any of this since she wasn’t a merchant he had met before.

“Yes, you! I think you’d make a very good husband for my son. Are these your parents?”

“Uh, yes?” Harry said, almost like a question. Robin and his mom just watched on with amusement, much to his chagrin.

Turning to Anne and Robin, the merchant woman said, “I’ll give you six goats for the marriage of your son to mine.”

Or every year, Harry and his family attend a church festival called Bethlehem. Harry's freshman year of high school Bethlehem expands, bringing in new vendors, including one that just might change everything for Harry. But first, he has to see if Anne and Robin are willing to part with him for the price of a few goats.

[vostara]

hypnophobia — 03

drei — wherever you bite, black scabs grow

pairing: ares x original female character (beatrix)

blurb: “You should be focusing your attention on me.”

word count: 6.2k+

title inspiration: tarantulas - akira the don, jordan peterson

A quick, special shoutout to my friend Tati for proofreading this chapter for me. Thank you for listening to me cry for a week straight about how much editing needed to get done for this piece lol.

Please read the author’s notes at the end of this chapter! It contains important information regarding a specific aspect explored in this chapter.

This work is cross-posted on AO3.

... | 02 | 03 | 04 | … series masterlist

Beatrix had left the bar, confident that she would be seeing the return of her lipstick in just a couple of days. But each evening, when she approached the front desk of the Continental, she was told that she had not received any mail. And as each day drew to a close, Eli’s patience with her was falling at a steady, but rapid, decline.

During one of their meetings, secluded in the privacy of his hotel room, Eli had backhanded Beatrix across the face. He had yelled at her. He had screamed that she was wasting not only the client’s time, but his time, as well.

What the fuck are you doing?

Beatrix had uttered a simple, I’m handling it, in response.

Eli had not responded favorably to those words. He had snaked his fingers into her hair and tugged at the roots so hard that Beatrix released a small gasp of pain.

Don’t fuck this up, he hissed into her ears.

But as the clock shifts from 11:59pm into 12:00am, Beatrix enters her sixth day awaiting a response from Santino D’Antonio.

She had planted her seed, hadn’t she?

Left a bait that should be too tempting to ignore.

And yet, she had heard absolutely nothing.

It shouldn’t take this long. It had never taken this long before. People were always a little too quick to jump on opportunities of extreme convenience.

But not Santino.

Has he rejected her proposal? Did she actually fuck up this time? Misread his signals?

But he must know that she would be doing him a favor, eliminating Angelo. It would be easy for him to avoid the blame. She would take the fall and no one would even bat an eyelash in Santino’s direction.

Beatrix needed Santino to be squirming in his seat, impatient for the bliss that will arrive after this thorn is finally plucked out of his skin. She needed him to be ready to have this trigger pulled, to have this headache relieved before it has a chance to bloom.

What had she done wrong? What had she left out? Why was he—

A phone rings, pulling Beatrix away from her thoughts.

The woman blinks.

She lifts her head off the back of the plush gray armchair and shifts her eyes away from the popcorn texturing of the white ceiling. Beatrix focuses her stare in the direction of the bedside table, almost entranced by the constant ringing from the hotel’s black phone. The alarm clock sitting beside it displays a glaring red 12:27am.

After the fourth ring, the woman stands up and approaches the phone. She holds it up to her ear. “Hello,” she answers.

“Good evening, Miss Amsler,” a woman responds. “I am so terribly sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night. However, there is a gentleman here and he insists that he must speak with you immediately.”

Beatrix sighs and rolls back her shoulders. “Could you tell me that man’s name?”

A momentary pause of silence.

Finally, a response. “Santino D’Antonio.”

“Tell him that I will be with him shortly,” Beatrix smiles, “and that I will meet him at the bar.”

“Of course, Miss Amsler. Do have a good evening.” The woman hangs up.

Beatrix places the phone back in its proper position and glances at the open doors of her closet.

~ ~ ~

Dressed in a black pant suit that is trimmed with navy edges, a pair of white high heels, and a fresh spritz of perfume, Beatrix approaches the bar just ten minutes after the phone call. At this time of the night, the bar is far from crowded, but there are several lingering patrons. All of whom are focused on individually squashing away their sorrows with sips of fine brandy or shots of smooth vodka.

Upon entering the bar, her eyes dart straight to Santino. The man is sitting at a small table in the center of the room. His fingers circle around the edge of his glass, which contains an untouched serving of bourbon.

Beatrix flicks her gaze away from Santino, to focus on the table behind him. Ares is occupying the space. Her legs are crossed and her left arm is pulled back slightly behind her, resting on top of the chair. Her right hand is placed on the table, allowing her fingers to repeatedly tap against the dark wood.

Her eyes are focused on Beatrix, analyzing every tiny detail. She notes the woman’s breathing patterns. The way her eyes take a sweeping glance to gauge the room. She notices how Beatrix’s first reaction is to ignore Santino, rather than approach him.

The assassin walks towards the bartender and orders herself a glass of Riesling wine.

After he places the requested glass in front of her, she pulls a gold coin out of her pocket and sets it on the bar. Beatrix smiles at the man and wraps her fingers around the stem of the glass. She steps away from the bar and heads directly to Santino’s table.

The man raises his head as she approaches, locking himself in unwavering eye contact.

Beatrix remains quiet, as she pulls out a chair and takes a seat across from the man. She brings the wine glass to her lips and takes a long sip, before placing it on the table.

The corners of her lips are curled downward, marking her face with open confusion. “When I told you to send me the lipstick,” she begins, “I assumed you would understand my hint of discretion.”

Santino lifts his own glass, and takes his first sip of the bourbon.

“Instead,” Beatrix continues, “you choose to come here in the middle of the night. A location crowded with people that are guaranteed to recognize you. And some of those people are likely to recognize me. Does any piece of this scenario indicate a discrete means of contact, Mr. D’Antonio?”

The Camorra man reaches into the right pocket of his navy dress slacks. He pulls out a familiar tube of lipstick and places it in the center of the table. “Beatrix Amsler,” he says, “it is surprisingly difficult to track down any information about you. Your known resume is barely five years old.”

So that had been the reason for delay. A background check.

“You’ve been researching me,” she states. Beatrix picks up the lipstick with her right hand and twirls it between her fingers.

Santino reaches across the table and wraps his fingers around the top of the woman’s left hand. He gently turns it over, exposing the inside of her wrist to him. His eyes dart down towards the area, focusing solely on the black ink that is etched into her skin. A delicate rose, no larger than a half-dollar coin, is tattooed. In the bottom right petal, an “L” blemishes the simplicity.

“I was under the impression that Lilith didn’t allow her girls to seek out their own contracts,” Santino muses.

Beatrix tries to maintain her composure, but she isn’t able to stop her body from instinctively tensing up. She raises her eyes to look at Santino and attempts to ignore the knots forming in her stomach.

“Lilith also cheats her girls out of proper compensation for their work,” she says.

Santino responds with a soft chuckle. “I don’t imagine your boss would be too pleased to hear those words, no?”

Beatrix lowers her gaze back down to her wrist, distracted by the thumb rubbing against her skin. “Do you plan on ratting me out?”

The man shrugs and ignores her question. “Where is your handler?”

Beatrix does not respond.

“I’ve heard that they tend to keep a very close eye on their girls,” Santino continues. “Should I be expecting extra company tonight?”

The woman blinks and then pulls her wrist out of the man’s fingers. “You should be focusing your attention on me.”

“Is he watching?” Santino questions.

“He’s preoccupied.”

Santino retracts his hand back onto his side of the table. He picks up his glass for another sip and then leans back in his seat. “You’ve arranged a distraction?”

“Are you here for business?” Beatrix questions, with a tilt of her head. “I told you that I was interested in your money.”

“You did,” the man agrees.

“Yet, it seems that you’ve only called me here to sate your curiosity.”

Santino leans back towards the woman, pressing an elbow on the table. “Why take the risk?” He asks, after a prolonged silence.

“You’re much more inquisitive than I anticipated,” Beatrix says.

“Lilith despises me.” The man narrows his eyes. “But here you are, pursuing the man that she hates the most.”

“You flatter yourself,” the woman remarks.

Santino’s lip twitches, irritation bleeding through his calm facade. “How do you think she will feel about you, once she finds out?”

“Does it matter?” Beatrix lifts her glass and swirls the liquid inside.

The man quirks an eyebrow, confused.

“I am the one making this decision,” the woman elaborates. “I am the one choosing to help the enemy of the person who keeps me wrapped, oh so tightly, between their fingers.” She stops briefly, to take a sip of her wine. “Life is just boring, without a little risk involved.”

“Are you really this desperate?” Santino rests his glass on the table and inches his body closer to the woman. “Are you truly so bored that you would risk doing something so profoundly stupid?”

The assassin leans forward and laughs in the man’s face. “Do you really care, Santino?”

He pauses, mulling over his response. “Lilith will do more than kill you,” he says. “She will torment you, ruin you, if she finds out.”

“Is that not where the excitement originates from?” The woman’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “The possibility of if? If I get caught, I’ll certainly be terminated,” she pauses, “in a more permanent manner. But if I don’t get caught, I’ve got quite the little secret hidden in my resume.”

Santino takes a moment to ponder her response. He then raises a hand and snaps his fingers.

Movement behind the man causes Beatrix to dart her eyes away from him. She focuses on Ares, whom had risen from her seat. The woman approaches the table and positions herself next to her boss.

“I need Angelo to disappear,” Santino states, “within the next two days.”

Beatrix glances back at the man. “And the price on his head?”

“That depends.”

“Oh?” The woman raises an eyebrow.

From the corner of her eye, she watches as Ares reaches into the pockets of her dark charcoal colored trousers. When she pulls out her hands, her fingers are wrapped around a couple of knives. The very same ones that she had taken from Beatrix, the night they had met. Ares sets the items gently on the table, right in front of the assassin.

“I see that your loyalty to Lilith is,” Santino pauses, “thin, but will the chord be completely snapped?”

Beatrix reaches forward, brushing her fingers against the handles of her beloved weapons. “Do you wish to break it?” She wonders.

The man sighs. “I won’t deny the truth. There is a certain… convenience in having an outsider perform the tasks that neither I, nor the Camorra as a whole, can be associated with. Should you complete this request, I can provide you with more lucrative opportunities.”

The woman smirks. “You’re turning Angelo into a job interview.”

“An employer should always confirm if one’s skills are up to par.”

Beatrix raises her glass of wine and then brings it to her lips. Throwing her head back, she drinks the remaining Riesling. After setting down the glass, she wraps her fingers around her knives, and slips them into her pockets. She rises from the table and, while staring down at Santino, she says, “I look forward to continued employment, Mr. D’Antonio.”

~ ~ ~

Approximately twenty-four hours later, Beatrix is perched on the same stool she had occupied at this bar, just a week prior. With a glass of Pinot Noir gripped in her left hand, her eyes are glued on her target for the evening.

Angelo Ricci.

A man who refuses to blend in with the shadows.

A man who boasts about his status, who flaunts his wealth. The moment he had entered the bar, Beatrix had focused her attention solely on the man. He had waltzed in, dressed in a maroon three-piece suit, a matching tie, and a collection of chunky silver rings decorating his long fingers. He had strolled by her, failing to notice the assassin, and proceeded directly to his reserved booth. Within moments, he was showered with the finest liquor and several women in skimpy outfits.

As the night progressed, the man had grown more disheveled. Brunette hair, that was once pulled up in a neat bun, had escaped from its place to hang loosely around his face. Shot after shot of smooth tequila had warmed his skin and introduced a red flush to his cheeks. His jacket and tie had been discarded, allowing one of his playthings to unbutton his black shirt and expose the artwork inked on his chest. When Angelo had rolled up his sleeves, a smug smile plastered on his face, the women had thrown themselves all over him, cooing at the newly revealed tattoos.

It doesn’t take long for Angelo to notice the woman observing him. When the blonde beside him plants her lips on his neck to place open-mouthed kisses, Angelo makes a point of meeting Beatrix’s stare. A cocky grin sewn on his lips, he winks at her and lifts his fingers to send a small wave.

And even though the blonde’s hands have traveled beneath the table to slide up the man’s leg, Beatrix maintains her pointed gaze. She brings her glass of red wine to her lips and takes a long sip of the liquid.

Angelo chuckles and shoves the woman away from him. He leans back in his seat, laughing, and shoos everyone out of his booth. The man turns to look at one of his guards and gestures for them to approach the table.

The guard leans down towards Angelo. After the boss shouts something into his ear, the guard nods his head and turns his attention to Beatrix.

The woman sighs and chugs the rest of the wine, as the guard draws near. She places her glass on the counter, before giving him her full attention. “Does Angelo wish to play?”

The guard’s expression remains stoic, unamused. “Mr. Ricci would like to speak with you,” he says.

Beatrix hums. She stands up from her seat and brushes by the guard, walking towards the booth.

When the woman is within hearing distance, Angelo exclaims, “My dear sweet Beatrix!”

“Angelo,” Beatrix responds, with a slight tilt of her head.

The man raises his arms and drapes them beside him, across the tops of the booth. “Come on, baby, relax. Have a seat.” He nods at the empty space on his left side. “It’s been awhile since you’ve spent time in this city.”

Beatrix slides into the booth, sitting just close enough for Angelo’s left hand to brush against her right shoulder. “I was here last week,” she pouts, “but you ignored me.”

“Really?” He enquires. “Not sure how I could have missed you.”

“You were probably too busy,” the woman shrugs, “being a prick.”

Angelo grins. “You’re still upset with me.”

A pause, then, “I’m disappointed.”

“Babe, it’s been, what, five years?”

Beatrix places her forearms on the table and leans into them. “Four years and seven months, actually.”

“You counting the days, too?”

The woman blinks. “Thirteen.”

Angelo smirks and lowers his fingers, rubbing them against the woman’s shoulder. “You are definitely still pissed.”

Beatrix responds with silence.

“Why are you so upset, huh?” The man frowns. “It was all just business, right? You? Me? All of those fun nights between the sheets? Everything was a fucking business transaction.”

The woman turns her head to glare at him. “You fucking shot me.”

“Oh, baby,” Angelo smiles again. “But you’re still alive, ain’t you? Still fucking breathing and shit. Life must feel fantastic, compared to the alternative.”

“Yeah, fantastic.” Beatrix rolls her eyes and shifts her gaze away from him.

One of the bartenders approaches the booth. In one hand, he holds a bottle of champagne. In the other, he carries two glass flutes. Carefully, the man places the glasses on the table. A moment later, he pops the cork off of the bottle and pours the liquid into the flutes. With a nod of his head, the bartender places the bottle on the table, before making a brisk walk back to the bar.

Angelo lifts his arms from the booth and reaches for the glasses. He slides one of them towards Beatrix.

The woman hesitates, and then reaches out for it.

“I mean, it’s gotta be, right? Must be full of some wild fucking shit, if it’s got you waltzing right back into Romano territory.” The man smiles and raises his glass for a toast. “That was one of the hottest things about you. You did whatever you fucking wanted to, babe. Just bat those pretty lashes of yours and you’ve got everyone wrapped around your tiny fucking fingers.”

“It worked on you,” Beatrix comments.

“Might have worked a little too well.” Angelo takes a sip of champagne.

“Not well enough, considering the bullets you sent my direction.”

Angelo shrugs, brushing off her comment. “I missed your vital organs,” he responds.

Beatrix shifts her eyes towards the man. As she raises her own glass to her lips, she notes that Angelo’s eyes are focused on her wrist tattoo.

“Lilith’s rose is untouched,” he says. “You still one of her girls?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

The man gives a slight nod of his head. “I’m surprised the bitch hasn’t killed you, yet.”

Beatrix chuckles and sets her glass on the table. “It’s just a matter of time, really.”

Angelo wraps his hand around the woman’s right arm and tugs her towards him. Using his free hand, he reaches for her and tucks soft strands of her hair behind an ear. The motion exposes a large sapphire gemstone, dangling from a delicate gold chain. “Eli still has you chained up,” he mutters.

The woman inches closer to Angelo, briefly brushing her nose against his. “I doubt that anyone else would want to take me.”

Angelo shakes his head. “Baby, they want you. They just don’t want to start a war that they can’t win. Everyone knows you’re his favorite.”

Beatrix hums.

Angelo presses his hand against her throat, gently grasping onto the soft skin. “Does he know that you’re here?”

Silence. The woman’s eyes shift away from him.

But he’s persistent. “Then what are you doing here?”

Beatrix closes her eyes and sighs into his touch. “Visiting an old fling,” she says.

His grip against her neck tightens. “I’d hardly consider us a fling. You were nothing more than a whore, pretending to love me. I may not have paid you for those countless nights in my bed, but someone else was.”

The woman releases a soft gasp and wraps her hand around the man’s wrist. When he loosens his grip, she says, “Many of those nights were of my own choice. I wasn’t being paid for all of the fun we had.”

“Is that why Eli hates me so much?”

Beatrix smiles. “No, he just thinks you’re an arrogant son-of-a-bitch.”

The man chuckles and pulls his hand away from her. “Beatrix, you didn’t come all the way to Chicago, just to see me, the man who shot you.”

“I was told to leave New York for a little while,” she says.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the end of October.”

“Clearly,” Angelo scoffs, “you weren’t really missing me that much. Not if it took you nearly two months to get on the damn train.”

“I was,” Beatrix pauses, “seeing someone.”

The man leans back against the booth. “For work or pleasure?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Things didn’t really work out.”

Angelo takes a sip of champagne, examining the woman. “What did you do?”

Beatrix takes the glass away from the man and sets it on the table. She slides herself closer to him and leans in to whisper into his ear. “I shoved a knife straight into his pathetic beating heart.”

“Are you here to kill me?” He grins.

Beatrix moves her hand, resting it against the man’s thigh. “Do you want to find out?”

~ ~ ~

Before the door of the apartment is able to slam shut, Angelo is busy shoving the heavy black coat off of the woman in his arms. His hands dig themselves into her waist, before snaking behind her to tug at the zipper of her ruby dress. The straps slide off of her shoulders and the material descends to the floor. With a hand against her chest, Angelo slams the woman against the black wall. He smiles, as he leans down to capture her already swollen pink lips with his own.

Beatrix slides her hands up the man’s torso, fingers fumbling as she attempts to unbutton his shirt. She sighs into the bruising kiss, and for a single moment, she is able to forgive Angelo for his retaliation against her. The bliss of his lust clouds her memories of the excruciating pain she suffered. Clouds the memories of when the doctor had shoved his tools into her stomach, rushing to dig out the bullet lodged within. She forgets how she had cried until her throat was raw. How even though tears had blurred her vision, she could still see and feel the utter disappointment radiating from Lilith. And how Lilith had ignored the woman's screamed apologies for her failure, ignored her pleas for the anesthesia, that the pain would kill her, that she couldn’t take it anymore, help me please, help—

Angelo pulls his lips away from her, opting to dig his teeth into the crook of her neck.

The woman releases a surprised gasp and melds her body into his. Hoping to accelerate the pace, she rips open his shirt. The remaining buttons scatter across the floor, creating a mess that goes ignored by the distracted couple.

Succumbing to his impatience, Angelo wraps his hands against the back of the woman’s thighs, and lifts her up.

Beatrix responds by instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. She tugs at his hair tie, releasing his long strands from the messy bun. Fingers bury themselves into his hair, desperately clinging onto whatever they can.

Angelo moans into another heated kiss and proceeds to stumble his way down the dark hallway. When he enters the bedroom, he tosses her onto the black sheets of the king-sized bed. He stops to unbuckle his belt and then climbs on top of her. His mouth dives right back to the side of her neck, determined to leave dark bruises that will linger for days.

Beatrix opens her eyes, taking this opportunity to examine Angelo’s new home. Unlike his previous apartment, this upgrade lacks the charming chaos of his mis-matched furniture and scratched oak floorboards. The current decor is sleek, modern, all black. His dark walnut flooring is spotless. The apartment feels empty, void of any distinctive personality. The black walls are bare of decorations. No pictures. No posters. No fancy tapestries. It feels too perfect, too much like a model home. There is nothing reminiscent of the Angelo she had once known, of the Angelo she had pretended to fall in love with.

Angelo’s hand presses against her bare stomach. As he moves to grip onto her waist, his thumb brushes against a scar he’d never felt before. He pauses and pulls away from her slightly. Holding himself above her, his fingers trace against the edges of the blemished skin. A permanent reminder of what transpired between two false lovers.

Beatrix reaches for the man’s hand and tentatively wraps her fingers around it. She brings it up towards her face, drawing his gaze upwards to meet hers. “I think we should put this on pause,” she says, “just for a few moments.”

“I’m sorry—” he begins.

“No,” Beatrix interrupts, “don’t say it.”

Angelo removes himself from the woman and lays down beside her. Together, the couple stare at the eerily smooth black ceiling. It’s devoid of the cracks, the scuff marks, and the water stains that had permeated his previous bedroom.

After a several minutes pass, Beatrix sits up and crawls to the edge of the bed. “Where’s the bathroom?” She asks, placing her feet on the floor. She leans down to release the buckles that confine her feet inside of the black heels.

Angelo runs a hand through his hair, smoothing the disheveled strands. “Turn right, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Beatrix settles her bare feet on the cold floor and lifts herself off of the bed. As instructed, she turns right when she enters the hallway and follows the dark path. Her eyes focus on a large door at the end of the hallway. Three locks are turned to keep the door shut in place.

A back entrance.

When she enters the bathroom, she quietly shuts and locks the door. She reaches towards the sink and turns on the tap for cold water. Taking a moment to compose herself, Beatrix takes a deep breathe, traps the air inside of her lungs, and then releases it. She presses her hands onto the black marble countertop and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She needs to breathe. Needs to calm down. Needs to focus on the task, the mission.

Zwei.

Sieben.

She inhales.

Eins.

Zwei.

And exhales.

Zwei.

Null.

Null.

Vier.

During the course of their seven month arrangement, she had examined Angelo’s every move. Beneath his mask of unyielding confidence, resides a budding cluster of paranoia. The man kept a hidden weapon in each room of his home. Weapons that were discrete, but quick and easy to grasp in an emergency. Unless his habits had changed in their years apart, Angelo had a self-defense mechanism somewhere in this room.

Beatrix reaches for the medicine cabinet and pulls it open. Aside from one electric razor and a couple bottles of medicine, it’s empty. She pulls open the top drawer beneath the counter. A tube of toothpaste and a nail clipper. The drawer beneath it also holds nothing useful. She crouches down on the ground and opens the cabinet beneath the sink. Leaning down, she peeks her head inside and scans the top surface of the area.

Just beneath the sink, near the pipes, is an object. It is held securely in place with a couple pieces of tape. She reaches forward, pressing her fingers against it, and feels the cool metallic edge of a blade. Grasping it firmly, she pulls the knife out of its hiding spot. Beatrix rips the tape off, fully exposing the small, but useful weapon.

A knock on the door captures the woman’s attention and she quietly closes the cabinet doors.

“You okay?” Angelo calls.

“Yeah,” she responds, “I’ll be out in a minute.” Beatrix stands from her crouched position and shuts off the tap. Tightening her hold on the weapon, she angles her hand so it is tucked behind her. Certain that the knife is hidden from Angelo’s immediate view, she reaches forward to unlock the door. She wraps her fingers around the doorknob and twists it open.

The door rushes towards her, smacking her in the face. She stumbles backwards and lifts a hand to check her nose for blood.

“What the fuck?” She screams.

But a body barrels its way straight at her. Long fingers wrap themselves around her throat, constricting the air flowing into her lungs. She opens her eyes and she’s confronted by the face of an irritated Angelo. The woman wraps a hand around his wrist, digging her nails into his flesh.

“Babe,” he hisses, “you’re not as fucking unpredictable as you wish to be.” Without easing his grip, the man shoves her back, until she’s pressed against the cold tiles of the wall.

Beatrix lifts her knife, ready to dig it into his jugular. As she swings the knife at him, Angelo wraps his fingers around her wrist and slams it against the space beside her head. She releases her grip on his wrist and shoves her hand into Angelo’s face, attempting to push the man as far away from her as she possibly can. Then she lifts her right leg and slams her knee straight into his groin.

The man’s grip loosens momentarily, but it’s enough of an opportunity for Beatrix to force her body off of the wall. She slams herself into Angelo and he stumbles backwards. When his body collides with the countertop of the sink, Beatrix buries her knife into his left shoulder.

Angelo releases a pained grunt.

Quickly, the woman pulls the knife out of his flesh and moves to stab him once again.

He twists his body, catching her wrist with his right hand. When she looses her balance, Angelo slips away from her reach and forces her body to bend over the countertop. Gripping her hair, he slams her head against the mirror. He pulls her head away from the broken glass and tilts her back until she is staring up at him.

She turns the knife in her hand, repositioning it. But right as she moves to stab Angelo in the face, the man slams her head back into the mirror. Dazed, the knife slips out of her fingers and falls onto the counter.

“Damn,” Angelo wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her off of the ground. “I was really hoping I could get laid first.” He throws her body into the oversized bathtub, before climbing inside.

“What—” Her eyes are blurry and she feels as though the world is spinning too fast. “What are you doing?” She mutters.

Angelo reaches forward, plugging the drain, and then turns the faucet to release the freezing water. “You once told me how you wanted to die,” he says. “That you didn’t want it to be quick, that you didn’t want to experience a death with no suffering. That—”

“I wanted to feel every moment, every emotion, in this once in a lifetime opportunity,” Beatrix finishes. “You remember.” The water creeps towards her and when it grazes the skin of her throbbing skull, it causes a chill to run down her spin.

“Because it’s the only truth about you that I know.”

Beatrix releases a soft chuckle in response.

“What are you doing here?” Angelo asks.

The woman’s smile fades.

“You here for revenge?”

A thin layer of water inches forward, quickly coating the bottom of the tub. Beatrix shivers and goosebumps appear on pale skin. But the chill of icy temperatures helps clear the blurriness clouding her vision. “I didn’t realize you thought I was a petty person,” she says.

A moment of realization erupts on the man’s face. “You’re working.”

“I’d say it’s more a job interview.”

Angelo leans down, reducing the space between them. “With who?”

The woman’s gaze drifts away from his face, in favor of examining the tattoos that cover his body. When they had first met, his collection was small. Just a few random pieces, placed separately apart on his chest and abdomen. But now his torso was painted with ink, tiny splotches of bare skin bleeding through.

Her eyes linger on one piece in particular.

Simple lettering.

Her name.

“Are you going to kill me?” She wonders.

Could he do it?

Would he fulfill those orders he had failed to complete once before? Would he stop her beating heart? Take away the air trapped within her lungs?

He presses his hand against her throat, but not with aggression. Angelo frowns, as his thumb brushes against her jawline. He opens his mouth, but his words don’t escape. Instead, he lifts her head out of the water, and crashes his lips against her own.

Beatrix tangles her right hand into his hair and grips the edge of the bathtub with her left. With Angelo’s help, she lifts the rest of her upper body out of the water. When he pulls his lips away from her, she opens her eyes and brushes her nose against his.

“Angelo,” she whispers with a smile. She tightens her grip on the tub. And using the object as leverage, she uses her right hand to crash the side of Angelo’s head into the tile wall.

He releases his hold on the woman, instinct forcing him to lift his hands to check his head for bleeding.

Beatrix shoves the man, using his distraction as an opportunity to pull herself away from him. Her hands grip onto the right side of the bathtub, allowing her to pull her body out of the space. She presses her feet against the side of the tub walls and uses it to hurl her body over the edge. The woman releases a pained gasp when her back slams against the black marble, but she forces herself to flip onto her stomach. She props up her body on her hands and knees, and takes a moment to breathe, before staggering up onto her feet.

Before Angelo is able to fully comprehend what has happened, Beatrix digs her fingers into his scalp. She pulls his head towards her and then, with all of the strength she can muster, she slams it back into the wall again, and again.

Angelo groans and slumps down into the tub.

Blood coats the walls, sliding its way down towards the water.

Beatrix untangles her fingers and takes a few shaky steps backwards, until her body hits the doorframe. After giving herself a moment to regain her composure, she exits the bathroom and makes her way back to the bedroom. The woman heads straight for the bedside table and pulls the drawer open.

As expected, there’s a gun tucked inside. Beatrix picks up the semi-automatic pistol and makes sure that it’s loaded and ready to shoot. With the gun poised in front of her, she exits the bedroom and reenters the bathroom.

Angelo’s hand is gripping the edge of the bathtub, as he attempts, but fails, to pull himself out of the water. His blood is smeared all over his face, and when he notices Beatrix, an amused smile taints his lips. “I should have fucking killed you,” he says.

“Probably,” Beatrix responds. She fires the gun, lodging a bullet into the chest. Automatically, she repositions the weapon, and sends a shot right into the center of his head.

The man’s body collapses.

Without a moment to spare, Beatrix sets the gun on the counter. She sprints down the hall, towards the main entrance. Spotting a chair in the kitchen, she grabs it and shoves it underneath the handle of the door. The woman twists both of the locks, ensuring that the door is secured in place.

Picking up her discarded dress, she slips back into the material. While pulling up the zipper, she is interrupted by loud pounding against the front door. Beatrix freezes, taking a moment to assess the situation. A voice shouts for Angelo, followed by more fists banging against the door. There’s more than one person outside.

Beatrix glides her arms into her coat and then snatches her purse up from the floor. Racing down the hall, she makes a quick stop in the bedroom, to pick up her shoes, before heading back to Angelo’s body.

She steps around the pooling blood and reaches for the man’s right hand. Beatrix pries off one of his rings, a large silver signet, with a lion’s head etched into the metal. A gift from the head of the Romano family. After placing the ring inside of her purse, she slips the high heels onto her feet and tightens the straps at her ankles.

By the time she steps back into the hallway, the shouting and the pounding of the door has increased in urgency. Quickly, she proceeds down the hallway and unlocks the back door. She slips outside before Angelo’s men ever enter the apartment.

The winter air coats her damp hair with a layer of ice, causing Beatrix to shiver and pull the coat tighter around her body. Her wet stockings become stiff, introducing her legs to the inconvenience of painful chills and the beginning embers of numbness. She fights through the discomfort as she descends the backstairs, heels clattering against the wooden steps.

During her last few steps, she glances at the street. A black car is parked on the other side. Beatrix can see the outline of a person sitting inside. And though she can’t make out any of their facial details, she can sense that they are watching her, studying her every move.

Beatrix pauses at the bottom of the stairs. She reaches into her purse and her fingers grip onto the handle of a pocket knife. She tucks her armed hand into the pocket of her coat, before approaching the car.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Just to throw this out there, in case anyone is curious, I will not be exploring or truly addressing Beatrix and Angelo’s previous relationship. That particular relationship is irrelevant to current events. Though I do want to assure you that Lilith and all that jazz is going to receive further development, which should hopefully provide enough context clues to figure out how Bee got involved with Angelo.

If you happen to be curious about Beatrix and Angelo, you can go ahead and shoot me a message and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have!

Once again, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, it would really help me out if you could reblog, like, and/or send me a message letting me know! 

If you would like to be informed when future updates are posted, send me a message and I’ll personally send you a message every time a chapter is posted! :)

The writer’s notes for this chapter will be posted tomorrow, May 24th. You can check out the notes for the previous chapter right here.

anticipated release date for chapter 4 is June 6th.

[ghost-town-story]

FebruarOC Day 3: Calipsa

Calipsa could count on one hand the number of times she had been at a loss for words.

The first: When Eric had kissed her. Admittedly, they had been close since childhood as the children of the queen and one of her advisors. But even as they grew up and duty tried to pull them apart, they stubbornly clung together. Therefore, when Eric finally kissed Calipsa under the moonlight, it only came partially as a surprise. At the very least, it was a pleasant one.

 The second: When they had finally learned who exactly their father was. For years, the rumors had been circling about Jupiter; The general consensus was that he was too strange to be human, even looking past his golden eyes. But even the rumors couldn’t prepare Calipsa and her siblings for the news that their father was the last of the Celestials, the ancient race of immortals who had ruled Astral before they were born.

Hand in hand with that announcement was the revelation that, since Pandora and Jupiter didn’t know if their children were also immortal, Yavin would not inherit the throne after Pandora. Instead, Pandora would choose Eric as her heir, to ensure the throne would not be in potentially immortal hands.

Calipsa wished she had understood then the ugly look on her brother’s face when he whirled out of the room.

 The third: Yavin’s assassination attempt. Calipsa had known Yavin and Europa were plotting something. She never saw her brother anymore without fire in his gaze, and Europa hardly left his side.

One night, she woke to Io by her bedside, golden eyes wild. “You have to stop them,” was all that Io would say. Even when Calipsa pressed for details, Io just repeated the same phrase before abruptly darting out of Calipsa’s room.

But even with all the warnings, Calipsa could have never guessed just how far Yavin would go to reclaim what he thought was his birthright. She never thought Europa would poison their mother while Yavin attempted to murder Eric in his sleep, or that Io would disappear the same night leaving behind only a note apologizing for being unable to tamper with fate.

Calipsa thought she had known her siblings. But standing in the aftermath, she had to admit to herself that maybe she had never known them at all.

 And now, the fourth time: Eric proposing to her, in the same gardens, at the same fountain where he had first kissed her. Calipsa wished the question didn’t feel like he’d taken a knife and driven it into her.

After a long moment, when Calipsa showed no sign of responding, Eric spoke again. “Cali?”

Calipsa tore her gaze away from him, instead focusing on her hands, twisting in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—I can’t.”

“Okay.” Eric stood from his crouched position and sat next to Calipsa on the edge of the fountain. The ring was quietly slipped back into his pocket. “May I ask why? I thought…” He trailed off, hesitantly reaching out as if to take Calipsa’s hand but second guessing the action.

“I do. I do care—I do love you Eric, I just—” Calipsa paused, taking a moment to breathe and compose herself. “Do you know why Mother chose you as her heir?”

“I don’t,” Eric answered. “She never told me, and I never wanted to push the issue. Especially not after Yavin…”

“Tried to kill the both of you,” Calipsa finished. “So she never told you about Father.”

“No.”

Calipsa nodded, keeping her eyes focused on her lap. “My father is the last of the Celestials. Or was, I suppose. I believe he left Astral after Mother’s death.”

“Oh,” Eric breathed. “And you…”

“We don’t know.” Calipsa shrugged. “But Mother didn’t want to take the risk of us inheriting Father’s immortality and Astral’s throne.” She let out a humorless laugh. “She was probably right to deny Yavin, at any rate.”

“Is that why you can’t? Because you don’t want to go against your mother’s wishes? Because you don’t have to be queen if you marry me, if you don’t want to.” At Calipsa’s startled glance, Eric finally committed and grabbed her hand. “I love you Cali. And I’m willing to work out whatever loopholes necessary so you can keep your promise to your mother and marry me.”

Calipsa felt once again like something had driven all the air from her lungs. She looked at their joined hands, then squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t,” she repeated. “Eric, if I am immortal, I refuse to pass that curse onto my children.”

“Cali.” Eric’s free hand cupped Calipsa’s cheek, turning her to face him. “Cali, look at me.”

Calipsa opened her eyes. She was glad that tears were blurring her vision, because she didn’t think she could handle seeing Eric upset.

“If your mother could get away with announcing me as her heir, ignoring her four children who should have had more right to the throne than me, then I’m sure nobody will bat an eye if I adopt my niece as my heir.”

Calipsa blinked, her vision clearing just enough to see Eric’s honey-brown eyes watching her gently. “I—What?”

“You don’t have to be queen, if it means obeying your mother’s wishes,” Eric told her. “We don’t have to have children, if you’re afraid of cursing them with immortality. But I still want you by my side as my wife, not just because you think you need to protect me from your brother.”

Calipsa let out a strangled laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” Eric turned her hand palm-up in her lap. He pulled the ring out again and set it in her palm, then curled her fingers around it. “Just take some time. If you think of any other objections, let me know so I can try and figure out another loophole to make you more comfortable with the idea of marrying me.” Calipsa laughed again at that and was rewarded with one of Eric’s brilliant smiles. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

Calipsa nodded. “I will.”

“Okay.” Eric pulled her close and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’ll leave you to it then. I love you Cali.” With that, he stood and walked away, heading for the entrance back into the garden maze.

Calipsa looked down at the ring in her hands, turning Eric’s words over in her mind. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he had countered all of her arguments so easily. He’d always been like that, determined to solve every problem he could, and over the years Calipsa had found the trait to be equal parts endearing and exasperating.

This time, endearing won out.

“Eric,” Calipsa called.

Eric paused and turned to look back at Calipsa.

“Yes,” Calipsa said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”  

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Telling Valdo Marx that Jaskier's music might be better than his, resulting in smutty times

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Valdo x ReaderWord Count: 1,730Rating: ETaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection  a/n: I tried my best nonny. This is my first Valdo Marx smut piece and I kinda tried to do a Feral!Valdo thing here but I also really wanted to make sure he had his own Style of Smut. I dunno, this has been an attempt. Hope you like it and please know that @heroics-and-heartbreak is an aces Valdo content creator as is @the-novel-on-the-left if you’re left wanting by this one

“What did you just say?”

You looked up from your cup of ale, wiping away the foam from your upper lip as you met Valdo’s eyes. The usually bright, twinkling emerald eyes glowered at you darkly and you sighed.

“I said Jaskier is playing exceptionally well tonight,” you said defiantly, daring Valdo to challenge you on this with a look that would have turned away a wiser man. Valdo was many things, but wise wasn’t one of them.

“How can you call this prattle good, let alone exceptional?” he snarked.

“You don’t have to like someone to acknowledge their talent,” you argued.

“Oh, is there talent around here?” Valdo asked, making a big show of looking around the room while you glared at him, “Present company excluded, of course.”

This was a fight you’d had before. Jaskier was a longtime friend of yours and when you began seeing Valdo you had hoped the men might put aside their differences to some extent. There were some things even the deepest love could not make happen it seemed. You rose from the table and sent Valdo a parting shot.

“You’re just bitter because he’s a better bard than you are.”

You didn’t wait to see his reaction, turning swiftly on your heel and sending Jaskier a parting wave as you made your way to your room. You’d half expected Valdo to run after you but you were able to get inside and shut the door behind you. You’d just pulled off your boots, still fuming but a little bit regretful of the cheap shot you’d thrown, when the door flew open. His nimble fingers dug into his emerald silk cravat and tore it away, exposing the graceful length of his neck. He threw it to the ground and went to work on the tiny, intricate buttons of his doublet, bottle green eyes darkening with anger or lust or some exciting blend of both as he looked at you.

“So,” he said, “He’s a better bard than me, is he?”

You sighed, not in the mood for another fight.

“Ok, that was maybe a bit of an exaggeration-”

“Exaggeration?” Valdo echoed with a scoff, neatly folding the doublet and resting it on the little bureau before pulling off his boots.

“I’m not going to say that Jaskier isn’t a good bard, Valdo, so if you came here to try and get me to do it you may as well just leave now,” you said, turning around and angrily tugging at the laces of your dress. You half expected to hear the door open and slam shut but instead there was just the sound of fabric rustling and then footsteps padding across the wooden floor until you felt Valdo’s dexterous fingers take the laces from your hands and disrobe you with grace and efficiency. He turned you to face him, eyes scanning your body possessively before recapturing your gaze for a moment before yours fell to his lithe frame. He was lean and toned and brought to mind memories of nights where his agility had awed you. He licked his lips and drew your attention back to his eyes.

“I’m going to wash his name out of your mouth,” he growled darkly, “The only name on your lips tonight will be mine. I’m going to make you scream it, moan it, and whimper it before the night is through. I am going to use you so thoroughly that when you fall asleep there will be no thought in your head but me and my many, many talents.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, swallowing hard and trying to sound defiant and immovable though his words alone made you embarrassingly wet. He lowered a hand, roughly parting your legs and brushing against you deftly, pulling a strangled moan from your lips that made him smile smugly.

“Already so eager,” he teased, his voice a low purr against your ear as his lips brushed against your jawline. The dark curls of his hair tickled your neck and he slowly walked you back towards the bed. The back of your legs hit the frame and he nudged you back. You bounced as you landed and he threw himself down next to you, a quick, playful smile that turned wolfish as he crawled towards you.

“Since you have made yourself the arbiter of bardic talent, you’re going to sing for me tonight. The moment you stop singing, I stop too,” he said.

“Stop doing what?” you asked.

“Whatever I want,” he replied briskly, seizing you by the ankle and pulling you under him, lean body pressing against yours.

“I’m not a bard,” you argued.

“No, but you can still sing, can’t you love?” he kissed the question against your collar bones. His hand ran the length of your body, touching you everywhere but where you wanted him the most.

“Ok,” you said, hoping your agreement would lead to some satisfaction, “What should I sing?”

“Don’t care,” he replied, suddenly thinking better of it, afraid you’d choose one of Jaskier’s songs just to taunt him, “Sing me a bawdy tale about a naughty little bitch who thought it was fun to test her lover.”

He began to kiss his way down your body and you watched the slow progression, the way that he looked at your body as he kissed it, reverent even while enraged. He paused at your navel and looked up at you, the keen, forest hued eyes watching you expectantly as you remembered the game.

“Oh there w-ohh”

Your words melted immediately as Valdo rested his tongue flat against your mound. As promised, he pulled back and fixed you with an annoyed look, as irritated at being interrupted as you were at him moving back.

“Going to do better than that, love, or we’ll be here all night,” he teased. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, hoping that losing the image of him between your legs would help keep you focused on your song. You fared a bit better, letting him get so far as to stroke your length a few times with his agile tongue before your words bled away again. He stopped what he was doing but didn’t move this time, enjoying the way you tried to grind against his face, nose barely brushing your clit. You sang in fits and starts and he grew to enjoy the game as much as you hated it, your frustration satisfying the vengeful part of him who wanted you to suffer as he had when you’d expressed a preference for his rival. He kept you teetering on the edge of release, slowly circling your swollen, tender nub as he inserted two long, dexterous fingers that knew exactly where to probe.

“I can either sing for you or I can come for you but I can’t do both,” you spat out angrily after the fourth, agonizing edging.

“Oh, you’ll do both,” he growled, “You’ll sing my name loud enough for everyone in this fucking inn to know who’s making you feel this way.”

Before you could speak again he began to stroke you in earnest and you forced your moans into melodies, his name an aria on your tongue as you came for him. His own moans of satisfaction at your pleasure were muffled by the sound and before you’d finished the note he flipped you over and aligned his slender cock at your entrance.

“You sang so sweetly for me, my filthy little songbird. Something new, now. Something a little less bawdy and a little more… epic,” he suggested, teasing you with the head and leaning back out of reach as you tried to arch into him.

“Epic?” you echoed questioningly.

“Yes, perhaps an operetta? Show the people you’ve got the range,” his sentence ended in little grow that sent a tremor up your spine and he punctuated it with a swat before seizing a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers and opening you wider as he stared at you lewdly. You did as asked and even managed to keep the notes going as he entered you in one quick thrust. He fucked you in pace with the song you sang, following the ebbs and rises of the notes in a way that made you laugh at times and you could’ve sworn you heard him giggle as well though he tried to act stern, taking a handful of your hair and using it to pull your face back to look at him.

“Sing,” he commanded before releasing you, and you sang for him. You grew more adept at turning your cries into crescendos and whimpers into wordless riffing that he seemed to accept as long as there was a tune to it. His thrusts grew punishing, digging into you deeply and grazing the spot that would be your undoing. Your song began to crack, your song devolving into sounds a broken music box might make, but he didn’t ask for talent, just obedience. You began to whimper his name as you neared your release, a pleading sound made in a repetitive rhyme that was music to Valdo’s ears. You’d hoped that his name would be lyric enough and he showed you mercy, not stopping as you cried out his name the final time, surely notifying everyone around you outside and inside the inn what was happening and who was causing it. Valdo rode you through your climax into his own, leaning over to bite the back of your shoulder as he did, one final, possessive act for the night. He kissed the spot before pulling out of you and pulled you into his arms.

“Now,” he said, panting from exertion as he tried to regain his breath, “You were saying something about talented bards.”

You chuckled and raised your eyes to look into his once more, already starting to fall asleep as you planted a kiss on his lips.

“Valdo Marx, Bard of Cintra, is my most favorite, most talented music teacher and bard I have ever known. Unless saying the contrary will get me more of what just happened in which case…”

“Don’t push your luck,” he growled, kissing your fiercely and then pulled you against him so the last thing you heard before falling asleep was his heartbeat and the sound of his voice, humming a wordless tune.

[crimes-and-gelato]

Title: Leave Room for the Unexpected Rating: M Pairing: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian Chapter: 1/5 Tags: Mpreg, A/B/O, Fake Dating, Modern Setting AU Summary: Wei Wuxian would be anything but ordinary. And being second gendered as an omega doesn’t stop him from bending the laws of society on what to expect from his kind. He might say he’s just applying his adopted family motto — “to attempt the impossible” — but many would say that, naturally, he’s just unrestrained for an omega. Sometimes he himself thinks that maybe in his past life he was an alpha, he clearly has the traits of one. That’s why some people call him unorthodox. But nonetheless, he will live his life as he likes: untamed by what is expected of him.

‘And having a baby is another attempt at defying society’s expectation. How exactly?’ Nie Huaisang, another omega, raises one delicate eyebrow at Wei Wuxian, taking a sip of his tea.

or Wei Wuxian asks Lan Wangji to be his baby Daddy, but things go different from what he had planned.

Chapter 1: Starting at the Beginning with You

I tried to write you a love poem but it ended up looking like a grocery list 

an inventory of all the things we’d need for breakfast. I tried to write you a love poem but it ended up looking like a thank you note tucked underneath the heart shape fridge magnet.

I still don’t know how your name found its way into my prayers

how your silence ripened into something this soft and pure

how this sky is no longer mine but ours.

-Mariah 

***

Wei Wuxian would be anything but ordinary. And being second gendered as an omega doesn’t stop him from bending the laws of society on what to expect from his kind. He might say he’s just applying his adopted family motto — “to attempt the impossible” — but many would say that, naturally, he’s just unrestrained for an omega. Sometimes he himself thinks that maybe in his past life he was an alpha, he clearly has the traits of one. That’s why some people call him unorthodox. But nonetheless, he will live his life as he likes: untamed by what is expected of him.

‘And having a baby is another attempt at defying society’s expectation. How exactly?’ Nie Huaisang, another omega, raises one delicate eyebrow at Wei Wuxian, taking a sip of his tea. The four of them — Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning — are gathered outside of Wen Ning’s bakery, enjoying cupcakes and afternoon tea, and the rare sunshine of mid-Spring.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes and licks his fingers free of chocolate icing from the cupcake he’s eaten. ‘By not having to tie myself to an alpha,’ he explains in between licks. ‘While having an offspring of my own.’ He wipes his hand on a napkin. ‘Just how many single parent omega is there? Most of them are widowed. There are no omegas — that I know of — that have kids just because they can and want to, since the rest of the world thinks an alpha is needed to be a parent. And don’t get me started on their endless praises on alphas who choose to be single parents. They act like it’s the world’s most heroic decision.’

‘So, you’re starting a propaganda,’ Wen Qing points, merely stating a fact and not at all condescending like most alphas. She supports Wei Wuxian’s progressive lifestyle as long as it’s not him being an idiot, which is often since Wei Wuxian has some complicated hero complex that gets him hurt for the sake of those he loves. Sometimes, she wants to either wrap him a blanket and protect him, or stick her needles into him so he cannot move and make rush decisions that would send him to an early grave. Not that she’s ever going to tell him of the first because she’s got a reputation to uphold, that’s why she often threatens him with the latter.

Wei Wuxian shrugs. ‘Not really.’ He takes a bite of his new cupcake. ‘I just want to have a baby without an alpha.’

‘How is that even possible?’ Wen Ning asks innocently, because he is their group’s youngest member and their sweet summer child. The beta looks very confuse as if he’s recalling what he learned in Biology class in case he has missed something about reproduction.

Wei Wuxian sighs and focuses on his cupcake instead of answering the question.

‘Wait a minute.’ Nie Huaisang stops Wei Wuxian mid-bite of his treat, hand clasps on Wei Wuxian’s wrist. ‘How _really _are you going to have a baby without an alpha?’

He glares for a second at Nie Huaisang and pulls his arm away to eat his dessert in peace. ‘I’m gonna have sex of course,’ he says in frustration and rewards himself with a bite of his cupcake.

‘That we know,’ Nie Huaisang points out. ‘To whom is the underlined question?’

All three pairs of eyes curiously focus on Wei Wuxian as he chews his cake. The father of Wei Wuxian’s child should be a big deal. He can’t just get someone despite him being one of the most sought after omega because of his family background and his genius brain.

‘To create an offspring that would put all other offspring to shame, because let’s be real, any child of mine would be the paragon of beauty and intelligence,’ he announces haughtily that has Wen Qing and Nie Huaisang rolling their eyes. Wen Ning gives a small nod because he’s supportive like that. ‘I have found the perfect seed to match mine. And together our offspring will be perfect.’

His three friends all wait with bated breath for Wei Wuxian to say who, only that the arrogant bastard keeps prolonging it too much.

‘Wei Wuxian, if you don’t say it this instance I will stick my needles in you,’ Wen Qing threats.

‘It’s Lan Zhan, okay?’ Wei Wuxian answers abruptly because he doesn’t doubt that she will surely follow through since she’s often with acupuncture needles on her person. Wei Wuxian believes she’s some sort of Black Widow spy in her past life. And if he leans away from Wen Qing it’s because he’s smart enough to be cautious than be sorry.

All three have their mouths gape at Wei Wuxian, he doesn’t notice, still wary of Wen Qing.

‘Lan Zhan as in Lan Wangji?’ Nie Huaisang inquires just to be sure he heard it right. ‘He agreed to be the father of your child?’

‘Only biologically,’ he explains. ‘I just need his genes.’

‘And he agreed?’ Wen Qing’s eyes are wide, eyebrows almost up to her hairline.

‘What are you implying?’ Wei Wuxian frowns at the question. ‘Lan Zhan and I are friends. Best of friends actually. He’s been very supportive of me since the beginning when people don’t see omegas beyond their second gender.’ He smiles at the memory of being rivals with Lan Zhan in high school and university. The other man had always been respectable to Wei Wuxian and other omegas, never seeing Wei Wuxian as someone who is beneath him or fragile like others do just because Wei Wuxian is an omega.

‘What exactly did he say?’ Nie Huaisang prompts, edging closer to Wei Wuxian. ‘And how did he take it?’

Wei Wuxian shrugs again. ‘He just agreed.’ He takes another cupcake from the plate. ‘We made a contract so it’s all professional and all that… Plus, I think I wore him down after whining to him about it for so long. I even had to make a back-up plan, if in case he doesn’t agree within my time stamp.’

‘And what exactly is your back-up plan?’ Nie Huaisang reaches for his tea blindly, still trying to absorb the news, and holding himself back from the other questions he wants to ask. 

‘I’ll either ask Da-ge or Xichen-ge to make the baby with me.’ He ignores how Nie Huaisang chokes on the tea and the Wen siblings’ saucer eyes. ‘I told Lan Zhan this just so he doesn’t have to feel pressure, and also, so that he knows I’m serious about this whole pregnancy.’

None of Wei Wuxian’s three friends move, still processing the shock of their friend���s news. They dumbly blink at him as if to make sense of his existence and the insane information he’s sharing.

‘Lan Zhan agreed after that,’ Wei Wuxian states, ignorant of his friends’ current turmoil. ‘I believe he also realised that his genes and mine would be extraordinary.’ His lips form a smug grin. ‘He was my first choice to begin with. And he would know better how right I am since genetics is his field of expertise. Right?’

All three of Wei Wuxian’s friends groan in frustration on Lan Wangji’s behalf. And he ignores them, thinking that they’re mocking his brilliant idea and instead focuses on his third — fourth? fifth? oh, who cares — cupcake.

‘Oh, right.’ He wipes his fingers again and unlocks his phone. He’s quite pleased with himself that none of his friends have yet to notice the change in his scent. ‘Do you guys want to see the ultrasound?’

There’s a lot of screaming after that.

*****

6 months ago…

‘Lan Zhan,’ Wei Wuxian greets, all formal and business-like, sitting across Lan Zhan’s wooden desk. They’ve decided to do the contract signing in Lan Zhan’s home office because Wei Wuxian is often at the alpha’s estate than he is at his own penthouse.

‘Wei Ying.’ Lan Zhan’s eyes never leave his as he pulls the manila envelope closer to himself. He fishes the document inside: two A4 white paper, not quite filled with scribbles. He already knows what it contains but reads it thoroughly nonetheless.

‘My heat is coming next month,’ Wei Wuxian states as Lan Zhan reads, the man continues on but Wei Wuxian knows he’s heard him. Despite it being the end of their work day, Lan Zhan is still looking all pristine in his baby blue turtleneck and white blazer. Lan Zhan had always been unfazed since Wei Wuxian knew him in their youth. Not even his schedule at teaching in university and doing research in his lab seems to fluster his ever-so immaculate countenance. Wei Wuxian loves how sturdy Lan Zhan is all through the years he’s known him. Anyone would be lucky to have such a dependable alpha. ‘I think it’s the perfect time. Don’t you agree?’

Lan Zhan looks up to him, eyes wide but not in panic. There’s something in there that Wei Wuxian cannot fathom, he thinks it’s because of the low light in Lan Zhan’s study that’s only coming from the desk lamp which hinders his ability to read Lan Zhan fully. He’s sure it’s not because Lan Zhan is having second thoughts about their arrangements since the man’s usual scent of sandalwood and grapefruit remains pleasing. He fervently hopes not, because he really wants Lan Zhan’s baby and no one else, even when he did voice out before that he’s willing to try with Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen. He’s not above begging the two older men. Wen Qing, despite being an alpha, is out of the question, she’ll probably skin him alive before he can even finish his request. Plus, she’s like a sister to him.

‘Lan Zhan?’ Wei Wuxian is slightly nervous, for reasons he doesn’t know of. He’s never felt so helpless in a boardroom full of alpha and beta who looks down on him for being an omega. ‘You’re not changing your mind, are you?’

Lan Zhan shakes his head slowly and composes himself, the unknown expression is changed into Lan Zhan’s normal jade-like profile that some would call: cold. He thought of it, too, before, when they weren’t close friends as they are now. But it’s just Lan Zhan’s normal face — well, if you can call an ethereal beauty normal, but that’s just Lan Zhan and his older brother, Lan Xichen — close off because he doesn’t say much or when he does it remains the same. People often brush things off that they don’t understand, or when it’s not in their taste of normal, not knowing that it creates a gap between individuals that turns into prejudices, or worse: hate.

Wei Wuxian’s quite intimate with these biases ever since he’d presented as an omega, and an orphan at that. He was luckier than others when he got adopted into the prominent Jiang family since his late father was close friends with Jiang Fengman.

Other orphaned omegas are usually wedded off immediately by eighteen to any capable alpha, that is if they’ve never gotten adopted. And most often they are not since it’s hard to raise an omega; too many responsibilities and they need a lot of taking care of especially that they have heats once every three months. They need suppressants, too, to keep off their smell and so that they don’t get pregnant.

So, maybe Madam Yu will never win Best Aunt Award — ever — but at least she tolerated Wei Wuxian’s and took him into her household, and never once complained about him being an inconvenience because he’s an omega. As an alpha, she has more power in the Jiang family than her beta husband and it would have been easy to kick Wei Wuxian out if she wished to. But she let him stay. And Wei Wuxian will forever be grateful for her benevolence, however little it may seem to others, it meant the world to him.

He’s not the one to look at the gift horse in the mouth, so he’d never actually asked Madam Yu why she never turned him away even when she clearly wasn’t happy with his presence since she’d always been jealous of his mother, Cangse Sanren, for being Jiang Fengman’s first love (as cheesy and childish as that sounds). But he’s heard of Madam Yu’s older brother, an omega, who was sent away by their parents — wed off to the richest alpha who proposed since these were the older days when omegas don’t have much rights. He’d like to think it’s because of that dear brother who had to leave because their parents were tired of having an omega child. Too difficult. Too needy. Too much.

‘Wei Ying?’ Lan Zhan calls.

‘Huh?’ He can’t believe he got lost in his own thoughts again. He needs to stop thinking of things that he can no longer change and focus on what he can do now. The sad reality of omegas before — and even until now — will only upset him and it certainly won’t aid him in fixing what he wants to improve.

‘Are you okay?’ Lan Zhan’s put down the contract, all his attention on Wei Wuxian.

He beams a smile at Lan Zhan. ‘Just thinking of who the baby will take after,’ he lies half-heartedly, wanting to erase what he’s been thinking and also realising that he’s quite curious about his baby with Lan Zhan. ‘What do you think, Lan Zhan?’ He puts both arms on the table, enjoying Lan Zhan’s startled expression at the topic. ‘Will they have your eyes? I wish they would... And your features? I would love that... Can you imagine how cute they will be if that happens? A mini you pouting about wanting sweets and whatever strikes their fancy that are totally bad for them.’ Wei Wuxian can already imagine them and can’t help the smile growing bigger on his face.

‘They’d look cuter if they have Wei Ying’s smile,’ Lan Zhan states seriously.

Wei Wuxian’s heart tripped thrice in his chest as he tried to process what Lan Zhan had said. Lan Zhan sounds genuine with his declaration, golden eyes focus on Wei Wuxian. Sometimes he forgets how honest Lan Zhan can be that often it does weird things to his chest. He had to visit a cardiologist thrice to be sure that there’s nothing wrong with his heart.

And his only excuse right now is that he’s making a big decision with his best friend, so it’s possible to be nervous and easily flustered over simple words. That’s it. He doesn’t need to be weird about it because that would be uncomfortable to Lan Zhan if Wei Wuxian thinks too much of it, the alpha is already doing him a big favour.

‘I think any kid of yours and mine would be cute,’ he adds casually because he’s not going to be weird about it, and missing to notice the reddening of Lan Zhan’s ears.

[crazyrandomfucker]

Marichat May Day 15:

Summary:

The story behind Chat Noir becoming friends with Marin after accepting him for who he really was, and not the disorted image he had initially formed in the beginning.

----------

If Chat Noir had to pinpoint when did his friendship with Marin truly began and when had he finally buried the hatchet, he would most likely choose that time when Marin got himself under an akuma's attack and stubbornly kept himself on danger just to look for someone he wasn't even friends with: Adrien Agreste, a.k.a. his rival of sorts and also Chat Noir on his free time. The story went pretty much like most akuma incidents: Someone was feeling rather sad, Hawk Moth decided to manipulate those feelings to turn the victim into a fearful akuma and the akumacaused havoc. The only difference? The akuma was attacking a fashion show.

That day, Marin was working as Adrienne's personal designer and was outside of the building with Adrienne when the akuma attacked. People went out panicking, some shouting that the akuma had trapped the male models on the changing rooms, others proclaiming that the akuma was turning the models in marble and even some people was saying that Chat Noir was already on scene but that he was getting beaten up without any reinforcements. Worried about it, Marin escorted Adrienne into the limousine were her bodyguard Orangutan could keep an eye on her while Marin rushed in to check if there were people trapped inside of the building, but not before sending a message to Ladybug.

He went inside the building and saw lots of marble statues, comfirming one of the things he had heard. Then, he turned his head just in time to see a flying Chat Noir coming at him backwards. Marin reacted on time to get out of his way and got a good look of the akuma. The akuma was a strange sort of black dragon-like snake with golden greek decorations along it's body, its size roughly about nine meters and it had some dangerously-looking spit falling out of his mouth. Marin quicklydid a barrel roll and pushed Chat Noir when he saw that the akuma was about to spit out something, barely managing to evade an attack.

"What are you doing in here?! Get out of here!" says Chat Noir as he stands and launches himself to attack the akuma.

"I can't! There are people trapped! I'm going to try to get them out!" says Marin as he runs away into a hallway.

"Dammit Marin! This is not the time to play hero! You have to remain safe for Ladybug and Lordbug, remember?!" says Chat Noir pursuing Marin.

"I am Drakon! I will turn the beauty of everyne into stone to preserve it forever!" roars the akuma, but is ignored y the boys.

"I'm not waiting with my arms crossed until everything finishes! There are people trpped that could get injured as colateral damage during your fight!" says Marin. "The lucky charm can't heal physical injuries!"

"That's why you have to get out of here! If you die while I'm battling the akuma, you'll be dead forever!" says Chat parrying the tail of the monster.

"Then focus on mister scaly back there! I'm trying to evade dangerous spots, but if you pursue me it will come towards me as well!" says Marin.

"Then get the hell out of here! What is so important to risk your life like this?!" asks Chat dodgin a spit attack.

"People lives are important! And there is some people in there that are important for someone I know! If I didn't help him I know about at least six people who'd get sad" says Marin zig-zagging between statues.

"Who is that guy that he's so important?!" asks Chat Noir.

"Someone I don't get along with! But my sister, my friends and his sisters would be in pain if something happened to him! He's the model boy, Adrien Agreste!" says Marin.

"And you're risking yourself to save him! You don't even like him at all!" complains Chat Noir before jumping onto the monster, trying to distract it.

"We may not be in the best terms! But if I did nothing to help him I'd be garbage that doesn't deserves to live!" says Marin.

Chat was for one second moved, thinking once again that maybe he was mistaken with Marin, but he had to focus again on attacking and distracting the akuma. Marin got to the changing rooms where the male models where supposed to be, but the entrance was filled with the remaingings of the ceiling, making it impossible to open the doors. Pleads from the models could be heard from inside, some of them even crying out loud and banging the doors without doing anything. Marin began to search for something to move the detritus with, but he heard the akuma roaring, saw Chat Noir pass him by flying against a wall and had seconds to react and to evade an atack from the beast, which cleared the detritus. but the akuma was  now blocking the entrance instead.

In a desperate attempt to catch the attention from Drakon so it wouldn't enter the changing rooms and attack all the models, Marin throwed a rock to it's head, making it loose balance for a second. But the akuma recovered quickly and turned it's head towards Marin, glaring at the boy and hissing. The akuma moved its head back to prepare to jump towards Marin and swallow him whole, openning wide it's mouth, but Chat Noir charged at it using his baton as a spear and effectively knocked away the akuma, who forgot about Marin and began to pursue Chat Noir in an angerous fit. Marin took the opportunity and opened the doors of the changing rooms wide open, instructing the models to get out safely and searching inside the room for Adrien to no avail. He began to run inside the building as he tried to phone Adrien, always getting the voicemail instead.

Desperate, Marin searches the whole building, stopping by any statue that might resemble Adrien to check if it's him without achieving anything. Then Chat Noir, Ladybug and the akuma burst through the ceiling. The akuma spins and hits Chat Noir with its tail, sending him flying again, but this time making him hit Marin and both guys end up flying to one of the hallways, straight into some soffa. Chat Noir gets up and shakes his body, making several of his bones crack,, before he turns around and flips when he sees Marin on the soffa. Worried, Chat Noir inspects Marin to see if he has any injury.

"I'm okay, thank you for worrying" says Marin. "I'm sorry I didn't react quickly enough to evade you".

"What the hell are you saying! And why are you still in here!" says Chat Noir still inspecting Marin.

"It's Adrien, he wasn't on the changing room and he doesn't answers the phone" explains Marin. "I was looking for him when you bursted through the ceiling".

"I think I saw him getting outside" says Chat making up an excuse. "You should quickly get out of here as well. We'll distract the akuma, so use the stairs and leave the building as soon as you can, I don't think this building will last long thanks to the akuma's sturdy and heavy body".

"Are you sure that you saw him? You're not just telling me so to make me leave?" says Marin.

"God Marin! Don't be so stubborn and leave! I know it was him! Blond hair, dark green jacket, black jeans, white shirt with a black tie. Sounds familiar?" says Chat descriving the outfit that he was wearing as a civilian.

"Okey, I'll trust you then. Good luck with that akuma" says Marin giving a pat to Chat's back before running away.

"I was definitely wrong about him" mumbles Chat Noir to himself. "He's no gold digger, he's a madman!"

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

After defeating the akuma and having used Ladybug's Miraculous Cure, the heroes took some moments to escort back some people that were participating in the fashion show. But Chat Noir disappeard midway and appeared behind Marin to take him to the bathrooms. Chat Noir gave Marin a note and then fled through the bathroom's window as his miraculous beeped for the fourth time. On the note, Chat Noir simply said that he'd pass by Marin's rooftop that same night, also hinting that maybe he'd take Marin invitations from a while ago to play cookies and eat some treats. Marin was amused by it as he returned to Adrienne's side, who was quite curious about Marin's satisfied smirk.

That same night, Chat Noir stopped by on Marin's rooftop after having patrol with Ladybug, as he had promised Marin. He saw that the trapdoor to Marin's bedroom wa open and he smelled the appealing scent of cinnamom, honey, apples and baked goods. Chat Noir knocked on the trapdoor before entering, to make sure that he wouldn't scare off Marin or interrupt anything, but Marin simply told him to come inside. Without having a chat about the akuma incident of the day or aything else, Marin offered a controller to Chat Noir and engaged on some rounds of UMS, both boys winning some of the matches and enjoying playing against the other as if they were two childhood friends playing games together.

After playing and devouring the trait filled with pastries that Marin had prepared, Chat Noir looked seriously at Marin's eyes. "I must say Marin, that I'm sorry".

"For what?" asks Marin.

"For having a wrong impression about you and not trusting on you" says Chat Noir. "This morning you proved to me that you're a great guy who literally puts his life at stake in order to save other people".

"Thank you I guess" says Marin. "I guess I'm happy to know that your opinion on me has improved".

"Well, if I had any doubts left about you, after having so much fun playing games with you they are all gone" says Chat Noir. "Plus, you proved to be a great friend this morning, worrying about the brother of your friend".

"Don't tell him, but I actually respect him quite a lot for thekind-hearted type of guy he is" says Marin.

"Then why are you on bad terms with him?" asks Chat Noir curious.

"Let's just say that someone close to me is in love with him" says Marin. "And I don't want her to confess to him and get hurt if he rejects her".

"Wait, that's your reason?" says Chat surprised.

"Yeah, I would never like to see someone dear to me be hurt because of someone who doesn't knows how to express his feelings correctly" says Marin. "Like, there is ths girl in his class that clings to him and makes him uncomfortable, but he didn't tells her off. He should opnely tell her that it's making him feel uneasy".

"I'd never had thought that your whole relationship with Adrien was based on his lack for expressing himself and your protectiviness" says Chat, reevaluating a lot of the things that had happened along the years.

"Well, I think that if it wasn't for that we could be great friends" says Marin. "We share a lot of things in common and as my sister and Adrienne say, we're both equally dumb".

"I'm sure you could be great friends. I think I'm beginning to see why Lordbug values you as a friend" says Chat Noir.

"Thank you" says Marin. "You know, we could be friends as well".

"You know what? It doesn't sounds bad to me" says Chat Noir and offers his hand. "What do you say? Are we pals now?"

"Of course" says Marin taking his hand and giving him a determined handshake.

And just like that, a lasting friendship flourished between both boys, not simply being pals, but respecting ach other as men. Sure, they didn't have the bromance Marin had with Alen, but it was still a great friendship that both of them valued a lot.

[thefalconwarrior]

Everything Looks Better in the Morning

Tim doubts the validity of that statement. Right now, he’s just glad for a momentary respite with his brother.

********************************************************************************

It hadn’t quite been a fight, but it could have been. Jack had certainly been yelling enough. If Tim had yelled, even spoken back, it might have been a fight.

But Tim was too tired. Too tired to be the repentant, respectful son. Too tired to drag some vaguely plausible explanation out of his brain. Too tired to fight back. He just let Jack’s words wash over him, face dangerously close to what Conner and Bart referred to as his “zombie face”. Emotionless and empty. A Robin thing. Something he probably shouldn’t be letting his dad see.

The problem, Tim reflected, as he ducked a knife, was that Jack had every right to be angry. He’d noticed Tim’s odd habits, how little time he spent in the house, his late nights and early mornings interspersed with days he slept in until noon. Jack wanted an explanation. Tim could never give him one that satisfied him.

The problem, Tim knew as he kicked a would-be robber in the knee, was that Tim felt guilty. He really was being dishonest. He was keeping a secret, lying to explain away his odd routines. Of course Jack would start to make his own conclusions. But there was no way he could just tell his dad about Robin.

Tim whacked his bo staff against the side of the last man’s head, sending him to the ground.

If Tim was the one at fault, what right did he have to be upset?

“Good job, Robin.”  

Batman’s gruff voice sounded behind him, and Robin whirled around, momentarily too startled at Batman’s presence to be surprised at the explicit praise, before it settled in. Tim felt his face heat up. A compliment was nice...but he must have seemed like such an idiot, showing his distraction not a millisecond after.

“Thanks,” he muttered, unsure of how else to answer. Batman studied him.

“Call it a night,” he said at last. He gestured at the attempted burglary posse that surrounded them. “I’ll finish up here.”

Robin nodded, pulled out his grapple gun and swung up to the building in front of him. He ran across the rooftop. He had a bike stashed three blocks east, but he turned north. He didn’t want to go home yet.

Dana had knocked on the door maybe half an hour after Tim barricaded himself in his room. She’d given him a tiny smile and sat down on the bed next to him.

“He’s just worried,” she’d whispered. “I’m sure he didn’t mean everything he said. You’re a good kid, Tim. I know that. Jack does too. He didn’t really mean it. He just...he just wants you to trust him.”

Tim just nodded wordlessly.

“He’ll calm down a little,” Dana assured him. “By tomorrow, he’ll be thinking a bit more calmly.”

Tim didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d spent more years with Jack Drake than Dana had. Then again, about three fourths of that time was time that Tim was at boarding school while his parents traveled. Maybe it was a moot point after all.

Dana smiled again and stood up. She’d always told Tim she wouldn’t try to be his mom, but he supposed he appreciated it, that Dana was trying to make sure both he and Jack were okay. “You should get some sleep,” she advised as she left the room. “Things always look better in the morning.”

Tim didn’t get any sleep. He lay on top of his blankets with his Robin comm hidden in a fist, wondering if he should tell Batman he wouldn’t be patrolling tonight, if there was a chance Jack might come knocking in the middle of the night.

But as the glowing red numbers on his clock twitched into 12:00, Tim, still lying in the same, now uncomfortably warm section of the bed, staring at the ceiling, decided he couldn’t take another minute there with the tsunami of thoughts and emotions in his head, damn it all. He slipped out his window and to the entrance of the tunnel that led to the Batcave. Bruce had been at the computer, and spared him a small glance and a nod as Tim headed for the changing rooms. Three minutes later Batman and Robin were leaving the cave in the Batmobile.

Tim stopped to stare out at Gotham below him. In this part city, the streets were dark and quiet. No criminal activity, he noted almost absentmindedly, but in spite of that the tension in the air was as thick as oatmeal. Unless that was just the humidity, he thought wryly.

Everything looks better in the morning.  

Did Gotham look better in the morning? Tim supposed it did. In the mornings, when the sun was out and shining, Gotham could look like any other city, not the most crime-ridden major city on the East Coast. The thugs generally faded back into their hidey-holes and what shady figures did walk the streets could blend in amongst all the other bodies bustling through the streets.

Come night, again, and the thugs and robbers and murderers returned to the open, ready to try to rule the streets. Work hours for Batman and Robin.

Do things get better in the morning, or do they just look better? Until next time?

“Hiya, Robin.”

Robin jerked around (why couldn’t they make at least a miniscule amount of noise?) to face a smiling Nightwing. That was the first thing Tim noticed, actually. It’ wasn’t a carefree, sunny grin. Nightwing’s smile was small and maybe a little...sad?...but no less warm for it.

“Nightwing?” ‘What are you doing here” sounded too rude, so he carefully rephrased his thought. “What’s brought you down to Gotham?” That still sounded awkward, but oh well.

Nightwing shot Robin a grin as he joined the younger vigilante at the edge of the building. “What, I’m not allowed to just come home to visit my family?” he asked teasingly, and Robin felt his lips quirk up as he eyed his “older brother”.

“Y’know,” he said, “I can never tell whether or not you’re serious, when you say that.”

Nightwing laughed, bouncing a little on his feet. “I had something I needed to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

Nightwing grinned and clapped his shoulder. “You’re it!” And with that he flipped over the rooftop. Robin was only startled for a second before he released his own laugh and grappled after him.

About half an hour later Nightwing and Robin sat on the edge of a rooftop, with pre-packaged ice cream bars from a nearby gas station. Robin could see the faintest glow of blue in the horizon. Sunrise today was 3:42, he recalled, the earliest of the year. Still too early for an early bird.

“So,” Nightwing said suddenly, and Robin glanced at him to find him eying him sideways. “You wanna talk about it?”

Tim didn’t bother to deny that he was upset. Dick would see right through him. Instead, he sighed, studying his ice cream and wondering where to begin.

“My dad thinks I’m in a gang.”

Beside him, Nightwing made an odd sound. “A gang? Really?”

Tim stared out at the city and shrugged. “I guess it’s a suspicion, really. He can’t figure out what I’m up to and he doesn’t believe anything I tell him, so he made his own conclusion, I guess. It’s not like my own stories weren’t usually pretty stupid.”

Dick pursed his lips, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just--” Tim sighed and looked up again. “He’s right. I am keeping secrets. I am lying. And I honestly kind of hate it, that I have to lie to my dad. But at the same time...I’m proud of being Robin. I feel like I’m doing something good. Something right. And also...” he paused a moment, and glanced a little shyly at his older brother. “Robin is...it’s something special to me. It’s a part of who I am, now. I don’t want to give it up. Honestly? I’m not sure I even can give it up.”

Dick smiled a little. “I think I know the feeling.”

Tim flashed him his own smile, but it faded quickly. “The thing is, if Dad found out, he’d make me stop. And I don’t want to. I can’t.”

Dick nodded slowly. “He wouldn’t quite see it the same way, would he.”

“No. But I guess when it comes down to it...I’m mad at him, to be honest. For always trying to drag the truth out of me. But. He’s my dad. So he deserves for me to tell him, doesn’t he? So am I the one being unreasonable, by not telling him? If I have to keep it a secret—am I doing something wrong?”

Dick set his popsicle stick down on the rooftop and leaned back on his hands.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I think...being Robin was a choice you made for yourself. And I believe it was a good one.” He looked at Time and smiled warmly. “Choosing to help people always is.”

Tim nodded. Put like that, it sounded so simple. But the moment he thought a millimeter beyond that...

“The thing is, you know the risks, and you chose to accept them. Your dad, well, he’s your dad. For him, the acceptable amount of risk is pretty different. Maybe...he’s not quite used to the idea that you’re used to making decisions and handling things yourself.” His expression soured, just slightly, but the moment was gone so quickly that Tim wondered if he’d imagined it. “Adults don’t usually trust kids to make their own decisions. Doesn’t always mean they’re right.”

Tim nodded and put down his own ice cream stick. “It hurt, though, anyways. That he thinks I would join a gang.”

“It’s not usually a bad assumption in Gotham. But in this case, it is pretty dumb.”

“He was really mad, though. I think he really believed it. He said I’m not allowed to leave the house. No calls, no internet. No friends over. I’m not exactly sure what he expects I’m gonna do otherwise.”

Dick sighed and wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “Hang in there, little brother,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Tim nodded. The wriggling mass of anxiety that he hadn’t realized had settled in his stomach had eased somewhat. The sun was higher yet. 4:30, he mused absently. How early would a brooding Jack Drake wake up? If he found Tim’s room empty, Tim would be paying for it once he got home. But he didn’t really want to head back. He was happy where he was (and that made him stop, for a second, realize that he really, truly was. Away from his house and his worries, Dick at his side. Happier than he had been in a while, even though he’d never realized he’s been constantly sad.).  

He really should go, though. As much as he’d like to prolong the relieving lightness in his mind. It would only be worse for himself, if his dad realized he was gone. Even though he really doesn’t want to spend even a moment more than he had to in the house.

“We used to wake up with the sun, back at the circus,” Dick said suddenly, softly, and Tim blinked up at him. “It was just something we did, my parents and I. We’d just sit down, the three of us, and watch the sun rise.”

That settled it.

Tim let his head drop against Dick’s arm, settling in. Dick squeezed his shoulders, holding him a little closer.

They didn’t speak again. They didn’t need to. They sat together in companionable silence, in a tranquil moment stolen from the chaos that was Gotham and hero-ing and life like a wallet slipped from a purse by a veteran pick-pocketer. Beneath them, the empty streets were washed in the pink of the rising sun, the shadows of the night beginning to fade away.

In a little while, Tim would have to head home. In a little while people would begin to trickle back out into the streets. Soon enough the city would be full of cheerful voices and genuine laughter and skipping footsteps alongside the arguing and cursing and whispering. The streets would be full and lively while Tim would be sitting in his room, calm and composed as he read a book or did homework or engaged in some other mundane activity while his dad woke up and decided he wanted to talk.

Some things look better in the morning, but Tim still worried this might not be one of them.

***

"There’s something wonderful that happens between true friends when they find themselves no longer wasting time with meaningless chatter. Instead, they become content to just share each other’s company. It is the opinion of some that this sort of friendship is the only kind worth having. While jokes and anecdotes are nice, they do not compare with the beauty of shared solitude. ~Jonathan Auxier, Peter Nimble and his Fantastic Eyes