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pooma-bible · 1 year ago

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Greetings in the matchless Name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

VISION 04: The Eternity of God: The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem (Part 02) – The New Jerusalem, The City of God (Part A): Its Description!

Rhema Word: Revelation 21:9-11 (NKJV) “Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls filled with the seven last plagues came to me and talked with me, saying, “Come, I will show you the bride, the Lamb’s wife.” And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me the great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God. Her light was like a most precious stone, like a jasper stone, clear as crystal.”

Let us pray. Our Gracious Loving Father, thank You for giving us an opportunity to meditate Your Word today along with Your children who have been called to live a holy life, Father. I commit everyone who are all meditating this message into Your mighty hand Father. Bless them and give them the oneness of Spirit and make their heart as a good land to receive each Word which is living and active Father. Thank You Holy Spirit for helping us to understand the in-depth treasure of Your Word and helping us to live a life as per Your Word Lord. We give all the Glory and Honour to You only Father. We pray in the mighty Name of Your beloved Son Jesus Christ. Amen.

DIVISION OVERVIEW: What will eternity be like? What will it be like to live with God forever and ever? This chapter of Revelation tells us. All the bad and negative things of this world are going to be conquered and destroyed. All the pollution and impurities, all the ungodliness and evil, all the suffering and pain, all the corruption and death – it is all going to be erased, eliminated, and done away with. The day is coming when there will be no more (a) impure government; (b) corrupt religion; (c) bad leaders; (d) painful suffering; and (e) sin and temptation.

This is the glorious message of Revelation. God is going to take satan and all the ungodly and evil of this world and destroy them. God is going to make a new heaven and a new earth. God is going to make all things new. And when He does, there will be (a) no more tears; (b) no more mourning; (c) no more crying; (d) no more pain; and (e) no more death.

We have been meditating this great chapter of Revelation in following three parts, from last week:

VISION 04: The Eternity of God: The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem (Part 01) – The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem!

VISION 04: The Eternity of God: The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem (Part 02) – The New Jerusalem, The City of God (Part A): Its Description!

VISION 04: The Eternity of God: The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem (Part 03) – The New Jerusalem, The City of God (Part B): Its Citizens and Provisions!

The new heavens and earth will have a capital city, a specific place where the presence of God will be centered and where the Lord Jesus Christ will live and rule the universe. Scripture gives us the city’s name: it is the New Jerusalem. Actually, Scripture gives several names by which the capital city will be known (a)The New Jerusalem; (b) The Heavenly Jerusalem; (c) The Holy City; (d) Holy Jerusalem; (e) The City of My God; and (f) The Great City.

What will the city be like? It is indescribable. How could anyone possibly describe the city of God and of Christ? Think of the stars in the sky, the billions of galaxies scattered throughout the universe. Picture them for just a moment: the vastness, the enormity, the endlessness of the universe. Remember that God is the Creator and Force of the universe, the Sustainer of all things. He is the Intelligence and Power that made all things and keeps all things operating. How could human language describe God? How could human language describe the city where God’s presence is centered and where Jesus Christ dwells? This is the problem that John had in trying to describe the New Jerusalem. The city and the presence of God within the city are so glorious that they are just indescribable. There are no earthly things beautiful enough nor valuable enough to be a part of God’s city. Therefore, John did all he could: he used the most beautiful and precious things upon earth to describe the city. This passage tells us about the city of God. It tells us what God showed John, what God wants us to know about the New Jerusalem, the city of God, the city where Christ will live and where the presence of God will be centered in the new heavens and earth. Note how it stirs our hearts when we study this passage knowing that we shall be a part of so glorious a future. God has given us the wonderful privilege of being a citizen of God’s great city, the wonderful city of Jesus Christ. This is the description of the New Jerusalem, the city of God.

We have meditated the First Part last week. Let us try to meditate on the Second part VISION 04: The Eternity of God: The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem (Part 02) – The New Jerusalem, The City of God (Part A): Its Description! on the following, with the help of our Holy Spirit, today:

(1) The Last Vision Given to John:

(2) The Glory of the City:

(3) The City’s Walls: Perfect Security:

(4) The City��s Twelve Gates:

(5) The City’s Twelve Foundations: The Names of the Apostles are Inscribed in them:

(6) The City’s Shape and Size:

(7) The City’s Materials are Precious and Priceless:

(8) The City’s Worship is Focused Upon God Himself and the Lamb:

(9) The City’s Light is Provided by God’s Glory and the Lamb:

(1) The Last Vision Given to John:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:9-10 “Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls filled with the seven last plagues came to me and talked with me, saying, “Come, I will show you the bride, the Lamb’s wife.” And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me the great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God.”

This is the last vision that God gives John, and it is the most glorious of visions. God shows John the New Jerusalem, the great city of God that will be the capital city of the new heavens and earth in the recreated universe. Note who it is that God sends to take John the city: one of the seven angels who had cast one of the bowl judgements upon the earth. There is symbolism in this: God has a message of warning for the earth – judgement is coming. But God also has a message of hope and glory for the earth: the New Jerusalem, the city of God’s very own presence, is also coming to earth; and every person can live with God in the glory of that city. Citizenship is available to all if they will believe in the Son of God, the Lord Jesus Christ, and seek to live in the city with God and His Son.

The angel carries John away in the spirit to a high mountain and shows him the glorious city of God. Eight descriptions are given.

(2) The Glory of the City:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:11 “It shone with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal.”

There is the glory of the city. The glory is the very glory of God Himself.

The glory of God gives light to the whole city. God’s glory is full of so much light and shines so brightly there is no need for the sun nor for any other heavenly body to give the city light. Just imagine the power and radiance of God’s glory – so bright that it is more forceful than the laser beams of light flowing from the sun! It is the glory of God that gives light to the city.

=> The glory of God shines all throughout the city, the city shines and has a sparkling sheen to it.

=> The city shines like the green of a jasper, but it is as clear as crystal.

=> The glory of God glitters off the city as though the buildings are crystal clear – everything glitters in the most beautiful green of the jasper.

Lesson: If you have ever walked in a mountain forest when everything is covered with ice from an ice storm, you have walked in the midst of a crystal ice palace. Everything sparkles and glitters – the green needles of the pines, the bare branches of the trees, the small branches and trunks of the saplings, the bushes close to the ground, the leaves lying on the ground. As the glory of the sun strikes the mountain forest, the ice crystals that cover everything in the forest sparkle and glitter just like a crystal ice palace. This is one of the most beautiful sights on earth, a crystal ice forest. Imagine how beautiful the green jasper glistering off the ice crystals would be. This is a faint idea of the sparkle and glitter of the glory of God throughout the crystal-clear city of God.

The Bible says in Luke 2:9; Acts 7:55; Psalm 19:1 “An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.” … “But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” … “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”

Apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 3:18 “And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”

(3) The City’s Walls: Perfect Security:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:12 “It had a great, high wall with twelve gates, and with twelve angels at the gates. On the gates were written the names of the twelve tribes of Israel.”

There are the city’s walls (v.12). The walls are great and very high. The idea is that of protection, of perfect security. When believers reach the Heavenly Jerusalem, they will be behind the walls of perfection. They will be secure from all the evil and enemies of the physical world.

Our Lord Jesus Christ says in John 17:11 “I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one.”

Apostle Paul says in 2 Timothy 1:12; 4:18 “That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet this is no cause for shame, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.” … “The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom. To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.”

Apostle Peter says in 1 Peter 1:5 “Who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.”

The Bible says in Jude 1:24-25 “To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power, and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.”

(4) The City’s Twelve Gates:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:12-13 “It had a great, high wall with twelve gates, and with twelve angels at the gates. On the gates were written the names of the twelve tribes of Israel. There were three gates on the east, three on the north, three on the south and three on the west.”

There are the city’s twelve gates (v12-13). Three things are said about the gates.

(i) The gates have the names of the twelve tribes of Israel upon them. This symbolises that the only way to come to God is through the Messiah of the twelve tribes, the Messiah of Jews, the Lord Jesus Christ. Scripture says in John 4:22 “Salvation is from the Jews” (John 4:22). God sent His salvation, His own Son, into the world through the Jews. Therefore, the entrance into the Heavenly Jerusalem is only through the Messiah of the Jewish nation. No person can enter the heavenly city unless he comes through the gates of salvation provided by God.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in John 4:22; 3:16; 6:35; 67-68; 14:6 “You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews.” … “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” … “Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” … “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” … “Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

The Bible says in Acts 4:12; Hebrews 8:6; 9:15; 24; 12:24 “Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.” … “But now He has obtained a more excellent ministry, inasmuch as He is also Mediator of a better covenant, which was established on better promises.” … “For this reason, Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance—now that He has died as a ransom to set them free from the sins committed under the first covenant.” … “For Christ did not enter a sanctuary made with human hands that was only a copy of the true one; He entered heaven itself, now to appear for us in God’s presence.” … “To Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.”

(ii) The gates are guarded by twelve angels: this symbolizes that the entrance to the city is protected. No person is allowed to enter the city unless they are approved by God. A person can enter only if he comes through the salvation that God gave through Israel, through His own Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.

(iii) There three gates on each of the four walls of the city, twelve gates altogether. Every direction on earth has three gates:

=> The east has three gates.

=> The north has three gates.

=> The south has three gates.

=> The west has three gates.

This symbolizes that everyone on earth is invited to enter the city. There is a wall that faces everyone in the east, and everyone in the north, and everyone in the south, and everyone in the west. And there are three gates facing everyone. Everyone on earth can enter the city. There is no discrimination or prejudice, no partiality or favouritism shown by God. All can come and live as citizens of the city. The only requirement is that they come through the Messiah, the Saviour of the world, the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Bible says in Acts 10:35; Romans 1:16; Galatians 3:28 “But in every nation whoever fears Him and works righteousness is accepted by Him.” … “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek.” … “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

(5) The City’s Twelve Foundations: The Names of the Apostles are Inscribed in them:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:14 “Now the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and on them were the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.”

There are the city’s twelve foundations (v.14). They have the names of the twelve apostles inscribed upon them. Note: the twelve apostles are clearly identified as the apostles “of the Lamb”. This means that the foundation of the city is the testimony of the twelve apostles, the testimony that declares Jesus Christ to be the Lamb of God. It is the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ as the lamb of God that makes the city available to people.

=> Unless Jesus Christ had died for man – unless He had taken the sins of man upon Himself and sacrificed His life for those sins – no person would ever be free of sin and made acceptable to God. No person could ever enter the city, for every person would still be bearing his own sins.

=> Unless a person believes in the Lamb of God believes that Jesus Christ did sacrifice His life for his sins, that person is not acceptable to God. He will never be allowed to enter the city.

The very foundation of the city is the testimony of the Lamb declared by the apostles. Therefore, a person must build his life upon that testimony.

Apostle Paul says in Ephesians 2:19-20; 1 Timothy 6:19; 2 Timothy 2:19 “Now, therefore, you are no longer strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, having been built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief cornerstone.” … “Storing up for themselves a good foundation for the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life.” … “Nevertheless, the solid foundation of God stands, having this seal: “The Lord knows those who are His,” and, “Let everyone who names the name of Christ depart from iniquity.”

(6) The City’s Shape and Size:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:15-17 “ And he who talked with me had a gold reed to measure the city, its gates, and its wall. The city is laid out as a square; its length is as great as its breadth. And he measured the city with the reed: twelve thousand furlongs. Its length, breadth, and height are equal. Then he measured its wall: one hundred and forty-four cubits, according to the measure of a man, that is, of an angel.”

There is the city’s shape and size. Three facts are given:

(i) The city is square. There is one side each facing to the east, north, south, and west. Again, the city faces in every direction. Citizenship within the city is available to every nation, city, tribe, language, and person upon earth – available if a person will approach the city through the salvation God Himself has provided for the earth.

(ii) The city is enormous and, as we would expect of the heavenly city, its size is beyond anything we would ever dream (v.16). It is 1500 miles long and wide and high. It towers 1500 miles high! This is a total of 22,50,000 square miles or 337.50 Crores cubic miles (almost 3.5 billion cubic miles)! Picture a huge space station that man might build in a century or two and orbit around the earth. If Jesus Christ delays His coming long enough, the idea that man might be forced to build a large city in outer space to handle the population has already crossed the mind of man. Yes, the God who created a moon to orbit around the earth and planets to orbit around the sun has created a city that is far more beautiful than any city man will ever build. It will someday descend from heaven to earth and be the capital city of the universe. God is going to reclaim the earth from all the evil that has engulfed it, and He is going to do the most marvellous thing: make the earth the center of the universe, the place where His very presence will be centered. The earth will be the throne of the Lord Jesus Christ. And the capital city of His rule and reign will be the New Jerusalem. What a glorious picture of the great salvation and sovereign majesty of God!

(iii) The thickness of the wall and gates is 144 cubits or 216 feet thick (v.17).

The Bible says in Isaiah 45:22; 55:1; Revelation 22:17 “Look to Me, and be saved, all you end of the earth! For I am God, and there is no other.” … “Ho! Everyone who thirsts, Come to the waters; And you who have no money, Come, buy, and eat. Yes, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” … “And the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” And let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely.”

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Matthew 22:9; John 7:37 “Therefore go into the highways, and as many as you find, invite to the wedding.’” … “On the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, “If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.”

(7) The City’s Materials are Precious and Priceless:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:18-21 “The construction of its wall was of jasper; and the city was pure gold, like clear glass. The foundations of the wall of the city were adorned with all kinds of precious stones: the first foundation was jasper, the second sapphire, the third chalcedony, the fourth emerald, the fifth sardonyx, the sixth sardius, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, and the twelfth amethyst. The twelve gates were twelve pearls: each individual gate was of one pearl. And the street of the city was pure gold, like transparent glass.”

There are city’s materials. Note the spectacular beauty and variety of colour in the city. The stones seem to be as follows:

(i) The walls are made of jasper: a crystal-like rock that is green in colour. The crystal green walls sparkle with the most beautiful colour as the reflection of God’s glory strikes them.

(ii) The city is made of pure gold, a gold that is as clear as glass. There is no gold on earth as clear as glass. Imagine a city many times bigger than any major city being made out of pure gold, a gold so pure that it would be crystal clear. Imagine the dazzling gold colour of the New Jerusalem as the glory of God strikes it.

(iii) The twelve foundations are decorated with every kind of precious stone (v.19-20).

(iv) The twelve gates are twelve huge pearls. What magnificent beauty!

(v) The streets are made of pure gold, but again the gold is transparent, as transparent as glass.

Lesson: This is a staggering picture of beauty and variety. Imagine the fiery brilliance and splendour as the gory of God reflects off the glistening stones. The beauty is bound to be the most dazzling and staggering sight in all the universe. Do the stones and colour symbolize anything? There is bound to be at least this meaning behind such magnificent beauty: the heavenly city is worth any price to enter. It is priceless. No matter what a man has to sacrifice, he is a fool if he does not give up everything, he has to enter the heavenly city of God.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in Matthew 13:44-46; 6:20; 19:21; Luke 12:33 “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid; and for joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls, who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it.” … “But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal.” … “Jesus said to him, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.” … “Sell what you have and give alms; provide yourselves money bags which do not grow old, a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches nor moth destroys.”

The Bible says in Revelation 3:18 “I counsel you to buy from Me gold refined in the fire, that you may be rich; and white garments, that you may be clothed, that the shame of your nakedness may not be revealed; and anoint your eyes with eye salve, that you may see.”

Apostle Paul says in Philippians 3:8; 1 Timothy 6:18-19 “Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ.” … “Let them do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to give, willing to share, storing up for themselves a good foundation for the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life.”

(8) The City’s Worship is Focused Upon God Himself and the Lamb:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:22 “But I saw no temple in it, for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple.”

There is the city’s worship (v.22). There is no temple in the heavenly city, for both God and Christ are there. Their presence will be so manifested….

=> that the very atmosphere will be heavy with their spirit;

=> that every person will be filled with God’s Spirit, perfectly filled;

=> that every person will be perfectly conscious of God’s continued prence.

No believer will be without the full and perfect knowledge of God’s Spirit and presence. Therefore, there will be an unbroken worship, communication, and sharing with God and Christ. No matter what service or work the believer will be performing, and no matter where the believer is serving throughout the universe, he will be in unbroken fellowship and communion with God. Therefore, there is no need for a temple and its ceremonies and rituals to pull the human mind into the worship of God.

Our Lord Jesus Christ said in John 4:24 “God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth.”

The Bible says in Psalms 1:2; Isaiah 26:3; Revelation 19:1 “But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in His law, he meditates day and night.” … “You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.” … “After these things I heard a loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying, “Alleluia! Salvation and glory and honour and power belong to the Lord our God!”

Apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 10:5; Philippians 4:8 “Casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ.” … “Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.”

(9) The City’s Light is Provided by God’s Glory and the Lamb:

The Bible says in Revelation 21:23 “The city had no need of the sun or of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God illuminated it. The Lamb is its light.”

Yes, the glory of God gives light to the whole city. God’s glory is full of so much light and shines so brightly there is no need for the sun nor for any other heavenly body to give the city light. Just imagine the power and radiance of God’s glory – so bright that it is more forceful than the laser beams of light flowing from the sun! It is the glory of God that gives light to the city.

=> The glory of God shines all throughout the city, the city shines and has a sparkling sheen to it.

=> The city shines like the green of a jasper, but it is as clear as crystal.

=> The glory of God glitters off the city as though the buildings are crystal clear – everything glitters in the most beautiful green of the jasper.

Let us introspect ourselves.

Shall we thank our God for infusing us a hope – a picture of victory of the Lamb of God, of His beloved Son Jesus Christ?

Shall we thank our God for showing visions that show the glorious triumph that lies ahead for those who follow His beloved Son Jesus Christ and endure to the end?

Shall we thank our God for giving us victory through His beloved Son Jesus Christ over evil and bringing righteousness and godliness and His Kingdom to reign upon earth?

Shall we thank our God for giving a vision of warning of judgement and hope and glory for the earth?

Shall we thank our God for revealing the fact that citizenship is available to all without any discrimination or prejudice or partiality or favouritism to live in the New Jerusalem, the city of God’s very own presence and glory, if they would believe in the Son of God, the Lord Jesus Christ?

Shall we thank our God for making it very clear that unless a person believes in the Lamb of God and believes that Jesus Christ sacrificed His life for his/her sins, that person is not acceptable to Him and will not be allowed to enter the city?

Shall we thank our God for revealing the fact that His glory is full of so much light and shines so brightly there is no need for the sun nor for any other heavenly body to give the city light?

Shall we submit ourselves to our God for helping us to TURN TO HIS BELOVED SON JESUS CHRIST FOR SALVATION BEFORE THE END COMES?

Let us Pray: Our Heavenly Gracious Father, we thank You for helping us to understand about VISION 04: The Eternity of God: The New Heavens and Earth and the New Jerusalem (Part 02) – The New Jerusalem, The City of God (Part A): Its Description, today, Father. We thank You Father for infusing us a hope – a picture of victory of the Lamb of God, of Your beloved Son Jesus Christ, showing visions that show the glorious triumph that lies ahead for those who follow Your beloved Son Jesus Christ and endure to the end, giving us victory through Your beloved Son Jesus Christ over evil and bringing righteousness and godliness and Your Kingdom to reign upon earth Father. We thank You Father for giving a vision of warning of judgement and hope and glory for the earth, for revealing the fact that citizenship is available to all without any discrimination or prejudice or partiality or favouritism to live in the New Jerusalem, the city of God’s very own presence and glory, if they would believe in Your beloved Son Jesus Christ, Father. We thank You Father for making it very clear that unless a person believes in the Lamb of God and believes that Your beloved Son Jesus Christ sacrificed His life for his/her sins, that person is not acceptable to You and will not be allowed to enter the city, for revealing the fact that Your glory is full of so much light and shines so brightly so that there is no need for the sun nor for any other heavenly body to give the city light, Father. Father, we commit ourselves wholeheartedly today and help us to TURN TO YOUR BELOVED SON JESUS CHRIST FOR SALVATION BEFORE THE END COMES. We thank You Father for filling us with Your joy, peace, and hope, for accepting us when we approach You through Your beloved Son Jesus Christ besides being merciful on us and loving us so much and predestined us to receive Your promise of glory through Your beloved Son Jesus Christ, Father. We give all praise, glory, and honour to Your Holy Name. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.

God bless you all.

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ladyartemesia · 4 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

6K notes · View notes

poptod · 3 years ago

Text

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them. also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

#jack kline x reader #supernatural #spn #jack kline

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theasstour · 4 years ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟐𝟎.𝟐𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

A/N: Thank you so incredibly much to each one of you angels who voted for ST in the 1D Craft Awards 🥺 You continue to take my breath away with all your kindness, support and love 🐚🌊✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 7! x

Saturday, 25 July

The phone vibrated against the wooden table, jolting Y/N out of her focus. She blinked a few times, looking over at Fatima who turned the timer off and looked at Y/N with expectant eyes. Y/N shook her head and Fatima’s face visibly fell.

“What you mean?”

“I didn’t finish, did I?” Y/N groaned, running her hands over her face, hiding it from view for a few seconds before she sat back in her chair and looked at her laptop in front of her. The two were sitting at Olive’s Café on Island Square, seated on lime green chairs outside, the morning sun beating down on them as each of them tried to do work; Fatima looking through the curriculum she was going to teach this coming year, and Y/N doing her UCAT work. Fatima was a teacher for fourth graders, so she knew how to make things easy to understand, how to pull things apart and study properly. When Fatima had suggested that the two of them take a day together to just study, Y/N had jumped at the opportunity. Now, they had met to do exactly this a few days in a row and Y/N was really starting to feel the effects.

The thought of the UCAT exam coming closer and closer made her want to hurl. September 10th didn’t seem that far away anymore, something that absolutely terrified Y/N. Not only did she need to be out of St Ives by then, leaving her entire life and friends here behind, but she didn’t know where she’d even be. Would she even have enough money? Would she still be in Cornwall? Would she have crawled with her tail between her legs back to Winchester, asking for forgiveness for leaving them all behind?

Fatima pursed her lips, tapping her pen against the top of Y/N’s laptop. “Is it ‘cause you’re stressing too much?”

“Probs.”

“It’s hard not to when it’s important to you.”

Y/N sighed heavily, nodding her head in agreement. “This practice exam… well, it was hard.”

“They usually are, the practice exams,” Fatima explained. “Not necessarily so to scare you, more so that you’ll be aware that this will be hard, but the actual exam isn’t that bad. They never are.”

Y/N gave Fatima a little smile. “Taken the UCAT before?”

“Obvs, I’m the smartest bitch in all of the UK, if not Europe.”

Y/N laughed, quickly sighing again as she looked down at her laptop again. This was the first practice exam she had ever taken; Fatima had timed her to see if she’d make it in the estimated time it took to complete the UCAT, but Y/N hadn’t managed to. She supposed she still had a lot of time to study and prepare herself, but it still made her feel like all her studying had been for absolutely nothing. One failure, even if it didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, always seemed like the most important thing in the world. How had the world not shifted? How was not everyone around her crying like she felt she should be doing?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Y/N. I promise you’ll be fine.”

She nodded, knowing deep down that Fatima was right. The universe would balance itself out eventually, everything would be alright in the end even if her current world was crumbling right before her eyes. Maybe she was just being dramatic, maybe it wasn’t that deep and she had just not been focused enough, but Y/N felt like giving up now.

“When I feel like I’m failing at life,” Fatima started, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. “I pick up a pillow and I just scream into it.”

Y/N blinked.

Fatima grinned.

“You just scream? How?”

“Just like you’d normally scream,” Fatima chuckled, demonstrating by pretending to pick up a pillow, burying her face in it, and silently screaming. “And after that, I feel better.”

“Like a proper scream?”

“Like you’re being chased down the street by a man in a clown costume holding an axe.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head some. “I’ll do that when I get back to the Inn. Immediately.”

Fatima laughed just as someone came up beside them, asking the man sitting beside them if the chair opposite him was taken. When the tiny, short-haired blonde sat down beside them, she beamed from ear to ear. There was something about Ellie’s presence that just made everything better. She was so round, so small, so joyous all the time that it felt wrong to be in a sulky mood when she was around.

“I heard you’re studying,” Ellie said, perching her yellow sunglasses on the top of her head. “And by the looks of it-“ Ellie mimicked what Fatima had just done with the scream. “-It’s not going so well.”

“Y/N’s studying for that dentist test and she tried one of them practice exams, didn’t go so well.”

“Aww.” Ellie pouted. “I’ll buy you a cupcake to cheer you up. I always eat tons when I’m sad, especially sweets. Especially, especially cupcakes.”

“Thanks for the offer, but-“

“-Ima, you want a cupcake as well?” Ellie put her purse down on her chair as she got up, holding onto her card. “Or a new iced latte?”

Fatima brought a hand to her chin, pretending to think about it, making exaggerated thinking noises till Ellie blurted a “today!” that made Fatima chuckle and say, “Both please, babe.”

Ellie smiled. “Girls, you know what I think we should do after this?” She waited for a few seconds for either of them to say something, but when they didn’t Ellie went on. “Go to the beach! You can’t be sad when you’re at the beach! We’ll sunbathe, have a bit of a swim, and then go for a Cheeky V at the pub after.”

Fatima smiled a little, looking at Y/N to see if she’d be into that.

Though all Y/N wanted to do was go back to the Inn and scream into her pillow, she smiled up at Ellie. “Yeah, why not? Have a bit of a girls day.”

“Oh, my gosh, that’s exactly what it is as well,” Ellie gasped, grinning from ear to ear. “BRB, ladies, I’m getting us something sweet.” Ellie was off into Olive’s Café greeting an acquaintance loudly before she went over to talk to them. Fatima only shook her head some, turning back to the book in front of her.

“You’ll figure it out, Y/N.”

“The UCAT?” she asked, looking at her laptop again, feeling her stomach drop at the sight of the practice exam again.

“Everything,” Fatima answered with so much conviction that for a moment, Y/N almost believed her.

“Alright, crew,” Dax called as they pulled into the farm, its lush and green landscape opening up around them. “Just warning you now, I’m gonna absolutely crush you tonight. I go for the title of champion even if it means I’m gonna have to lose some friends.”

“Sad, that,” Fatima sighed. “Seeing as you’ve never won before, what makes you think you’re gonna win this year?”

Amir turned to look at them from where he sat shotgun. “Dax, you may try to win, but we all know the former singer and frontman of Astronaut Lions will go home champion tonight.”

“You are a terrible singer, Amir. Dunno why we let you even sing,” Jo groaned.

“’Cause I’ve got a silky-smooth, delicious, fantastic-“

“-Shut up, mate!” Ellie groaned, making Jo laugh and give her a high five.

Harry stopped his van, killing the engine before Dax got up and opened the door for everything in the backseats. Y/N made sure no one could see her bum as she descended from the car, keeping her hands by her buttocks to keep her pleated lilac skirt from showing too much of her skin. She put her purse on her shoulder, letting it hang over her white crop cardigan. Music could be heard from the large barn, some awful singing streamed out from the open entrance as people walked out, laughing and carrying empty plates. The farm was just as beautiful as Y/N remembered it, now smelling of delicious barbeque and sounding of hens, chatter, and the occasional failed high-note. The karaoke night seemed to be under full way, the courtyard brimming with people, the same went for the inside of the barn it seemed.

Y/N, Fatima and Ellie fell into step beside one another as they walked over to the gate, Harry opening it for the rest, gesturing for them to walk in before him. When Y/N reached him last he gave her a little smile, eyes falling to the gravel under his feet.

“Harry!” Grace yelled, running from the grill where Uncle Tim, Jessa, and lolo stood looking at the food. “Harry, Harry, Harry!”

“There she is!” Harry bent down as Grace came running, wrapping his arms around her and spinning her around, her feet dangling in the air.

“Alright, Mr Flores?” Dax asked as he walked up to the grill, putting a hand on lolo’s shoulder. Lolo grinned up at Dax, saying something that Y/N didn’t catch as Amir let out a loud groan hitting his chest with both hands.

“Let’s go! Gonna belt Material Girl in approximately five minutes, everyone come watch to have your life changed!” Amir ran into the barn, shouting something as he met a few familiar faces inside.

“After a few pints he’ll try Gentleman,” Fatima sighed. “Someone should cover Gracie’s ears then.”

“That SL song?” Jo asked. “Nah, he better do Wiley Flow, or else I’m gonna have to challenge him to a rap battle.”

“Amir’s got no chance of keeping up with any of Stormzy’s songs,” Ellie pointed out matter-of-factly, scrunching up her nose. “Anyway,” Ellie stopped Jo before they started talking. “We’re doing Sugababes, yeah? About You Now?”

“Obvs!” Fatima exclaimed, offended that Ellie might’ve thought otherwise. “And Y/N’s joining us.”

“Oh!” Y/N raised her eyebrows, chuckling a little as Fatima wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard a Sugababes song.”

“They’re immense, aren’t they?” Ellie grinned. “I used to listen to Push The Button on repeat when I was like 12.”

“Was more of a Too Lost in You type of girl,” Y/N said, making Fatima gasp and Ellie bring a hand up to her chest.

“We’re doing Too Lost in You!” Ellie clapped her hands frantically. “Oh, my life! Legendary!”

“Of course,” Fatima smiled. “You wanna sing, yeah?”

“Let me down three ciders and I’ll be good to go.”

Jo laughed, gesturing for Y/N to follow them over to the main house where the four of them helped themselves to something to drink. Y/N glanced out of the kitchen window at the Styles-Flores family where they stood by the grill, sipping her cider. Grace sat on Harry’s shoulders, hands in his hair as she giggled at something. Harry had both his hands wrapped around his little sister’s ankles, holding her in place. Jessa was grinning at the two while Uncle Tim stood talking by the grill, asking lolo if what he was doing was alright, not having grilled this specific type of Filipino dish before. Dax stood chatting to one of Harry’s aunts, if it was Rachel or Abby, Y/N could not for the life of herself remember, but she noticed Harry’s aunt’s kids running around the grill, shouting at one another and laughing.

Y/N had never experienced a dynamic like this before. This family was so welcome, so big, so loving, and it made her happy to just watch them and know that, for a split second in time, she had been part of it. Maybe not a real part of it because this was not her family after all, but she had been touched by their warmth and been their guest for a time being. She would forever be grateful for that. Love tasted like Jessa’s lumpia, radiated like lolo’s approving smile, smelled like Grace’s hair after she had been out plucking wildflowers, and felt like Harry’s arms wrapped around her. Nothing would ever be quite like this.

“Let’s go to the barn,” Ellie said.

“I’ll just go say hi to Jessa,” Y/N announced, giving them all a smile before she walked outside and over to the grill where everyone was standing.

“Y/N!” Jessa exclaimed, opening her arms for her. Y/N grinned, walking over and doing the mano po on both Jessa and lolo. “How have you been? Don’t feel like I’ve seen you in ages.” Jessa swatted Harry’s arm, making him flinch away. “He’s keeping you all to himself, isn’t he?”

“I’ve been busy, nanay!” Harry said, furrowing his brows at his step-mum.

“Karaoke is huge in the Philippines,” Jessa explained, as she linked her arm with Y/N’s bringing her over to the grill where lolo and Tim were standing. “It is an understatement to say that Filipinos love karaoke, I daresay. Almost every Filipino home has a karaoke machine, Harry’s dad bought ours when we first moved here, but we put it out in the barn ‘cause we don’t really use it unless there’s a karaoke night, like tonight.”

“How nice, this is a tradition then? Each summer?”

“Yeah, we have a karaoke barbeque night every summer, everyone’s invited!” Jessa beamed. “It’s a fantastic way to just relax, forget about everything for a little while, belt your heart out to some of your favourite songs.”

Y/N smiled, eyes landing on the grill.

“Alright, Y/N?” Tim asked, smiling at her. “We made some tempeh for you, some Filipino barbeque sauce on it that’s out of this world. Not surprised, though, when Jessa made it.”

“Oh!” Jessa waved her hand as if to dismiss the compliment, but squeezed his shoulder. “I’m excited to see what you think. It was either tempeh or baos, thought you might like this a bit more.”

Y/N took a plate and a fork and watched as Tim put some food on her plate, thanking him once it was done. She picked up the tempeh and blew on it before she took a bite out of it, chewing it thoroughly and smiling at Jessa after swallowing.

“That’s brilliant.”

“Ahh! You think?” Jessa grinned, looking from Tim and back to Y/N, then at lolo. “Amá, Y/N liked the tempeh we made.”

Lolo smiled at Y/N and looked at her plate, nodding slowly. “You have to come and make some food with us once. You are part of the family now; we can show you our secret recipes.”

Y/N chuckled some before swallowing her bite of tempeh. “Wouldn’t say I’m part of the family, but thank you-“

“-Nonsense!” Jessa exclaimed, shaking her head furiously. “You are here, you’re making Harry happy, and since you’ve come to St Ives, the world’s been a brighter place. You’re where you need to be.”

For some reason, Y/N couldn’t quite believe what Jessa was saying. She knew it was coming from a good place, that she meant that it was nice to have Y/N there, but her family was in Winchester, she couldn’t possibly come into a new one and then ruin that one as well. This family she was visiting in St Ives would do just fine without her when she left in August. No one would miss her once she had been gone for a week, that was just a fact. Y/N was so bloody lost, she did not know what to do once her and Harry “broke up”, but she knew she would not disappoint and make any of the people around her sad, she refused.

Instead, Y/N smiled as she took the last bite of the tempeh, chewing and swallowing before she said. “Harry said something about an end of summer party.”

“Yes! I wanted to talk to you about that! Because, on the topic of food,” Jessa smiled back. “If you could give me some of your favourite vegetarian dishes, I’d love to make them for you! It would be amazing for many others to try something new as well.”

“I’d be more than happy to help out,” Y/N said, looking over at Grace as she sat on Dax’s back, the blonde man running around in circles as Harry ran after them, growling and acting like a disformed monster of sorts. She smiled a little at the sight, he looked absolutely ridiculous. How was he still cute? “I’ll bring the veggie food and I’ll show you how to make those, and then you show me how to make some Filipino dishes as well.”

Jessa placed a hand over her heart, beaming at Y/N. “You are an absolute treasure, me lover.”

Y/N smiled, eating some more of the tempeh. “When should I come and help out?”

“Are you free Tuesday?”

“Yeah, I don’t have any plans as of now.”

“Great! Harry will drive you here then. It’ll just be me, amá, Gracie, and Harry, and now you.” Jessa put her hand on Y/N’s arm, squeezing her lovingly before she turned to answer a question Tim asked her about the food he was currently grilling.

Y/N looked in the direction of Harry, Dax and Grace again, now walking towards the house. Jessa must have noticed Y/N staring in their direction because she linked her arm through Y/N’s and the two walked in the direction of the house as well.

“There’s more food inside,” she explained, grinning from ear to ear. “We do grill a lot, but Tim’s not really the best with the grill and he always insists on grilling at these gatherings, I don’t really have the heart to tell him no.” Jessa led Y/N into the dining room where she remembered all the food had been served at Grace’s birthday party. Again, casserole upon casserole stood spread over the dining table, covering it completely. Most of the dishes were all dug into, some almost completely wiped from the casseroles.

“Here,” Jessa said as she led Y/N over to the table. “I made your lumpia, there’s a few other vegetarian options as well.”

The fact that Jessa thought of this, thought of Y/N’s preference and made life a little easier for her, was so greatly appreciated that it nearly brought tears to Y/N’s eyes.

“This is biko,” Jessa explained, pointing to a casserole filled with banana leaves, a brown dish resting in it. “It’s a rice cake made from malagkit, or sticky rice, coconut milk, and brown sugar. Like other rice cakes, it is referred to as kakanin, taken from the word kanin which means rice, and is often eaten as a dessert or meryenda, meaning a mid-afternoon snack.”

“It looks lovely,” Y/N said, reaching for the spoon to get herself a slice before it was all eaten up. “Know we’re probably not set for dessert just yet, but I might just need some.”

Jessa laughed, smiling as Y/N took a bite of the biko. “What do you reckon, darling?”

“Heavenly, Jessa.”

Jessa clapped her hands together in delight, grinning from ear to ear as Y/N went in for another bite. “You have to try the buko pie next.”

“Which one’s that?”

Jessa pointed to a golden pie, not waiting for any sort of reply before cutting Y/N a small piece, placing it on Y/N’s plate. “It’s a sweet and rich pie made from young coconut meat.”

“Oh?”

“Buko pies are mostly sold in southern parts of Luzon in the Philippines. There’s this specific store down there called Collette’s that serves the best buko pie. I will never be able to replicate it, but I will try my hardest, every time I make a buko pie,” Jessa smiled. “We need to take you to Luzon, Y/N, you’d love it. Once we’ve saved up and all that.”

“This is the best buko pie I’ve ever tasted at least,” Y/N said, and Jessa laughed again looking out through the window only to sigh deeply.

“I need to go out there, it seems Tim is struggling and amá cannot be asked to help him out.” Jessa sprinted out, shouting something at Tim that Y/N didn’t catch but by the look on all the relatives standing around and Tim’s face, it couldn’t have been good. Y/N smiled a little, eating the rest of her pie before she realised she heard music. This wasn’t the type streaming out from the barn, this was coming from inside the house. And it was coming from the piano.

Y/N walked into the kitchen and placed her now empty plate on the kitchen counter before walking over to the dining room again, walking over to the doorway leading into the living room. With Grace on his lap, Harry was sitting by the piano, playing a tune Y/N had never heard before. It was both hopeful and very sad, unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. There was no note sheet in front of him as he played, his eyes were only on the keys in front of him. Grace sometimes leaned forward and pressed a key she wasn’t supposed to, looking up at Harry while she giggled before leaning into him again, listening to the rest of the song.

“Can you play that other one?” Grace asked as Harry continued to play.

“What other one? There are quite a few, Gracie.”

“She means the one about me,” Dax grinned, standing beside the piano with his arms crossed, a massive grin on his face. “Go on, Hazza. Play that one inspired by Sexy Back.”

“Watch your mouth,” Harry hissed through gritted teeth, making his best friend laugh.

“Noooo!” Grace laughed. “The one you wrote after you, me and Y/N went to St Austell. The one about that trip.”

“Ahh, haven’t heard that one before,” Dax said, walking over to sit on the sofa beside the piano, watching the two siblings as they settled in again. Grace pressed one of the keys, looking up at Harry who smiled down at her and shook his head. He took her hand, bringing her finger over to the correct starting note, pressing it down for a long while so she’d get the feel of it. Then, he brought her to the next one, slowly playing the melody out before Grace motioned for Harry to take over for her.

What Harry produced just pressing a couple of keys at just the right moment was so breath-taking that Y/N almost felt dizzy. There was something to this melody that words weren’t ready to properly convey yet, something that was too powerful for a simple human brain to comprehend. Y/N understood why Harry wrote songs now. This melody captured that day perfectly. Her heart knew that melody. It had played that melody itself that day; it had been there with Harry while he came up with it as well.

She was thrown back to walking along St Austell, spending the day in the sunshine with two people that she had come to care so incredibly much for. Thrown back to standing side by side with Harry, talking about music, walking along the market, eating ice cream, laughing till her sides hurt. A lump suddenly appeared in her throat.

“What the fuc-“

“-Dax,” Harry said, stopping immediately. “No.”

“I’ve heard that word before, Harry,” Grace said.

“What, when?!”

“Harry, that was insane,” Dax said, grinning as he stood up from the sofa again. Before Y/N could be noticed, she stepped away from the doorway and walked outside again, feeling every inch of her chest hurting.

“Y/N!” Jo called. “Come in here!” They stood by the grill with a plate filled with food, waving her over so the two of them could walk in together.

She grinned over at Jo as she made her way over, them walking in the direction of the barn together. She waved at people she recognised – Florence from Bessie’s knitting club and Dax’s mum, was one of them. The inside of the barn was decorated with plenty of fairylights, giving the old interior a yellowish and homely glow resembling candlelight. There were small tables and chairs all around so people could sit down to eat, drink, and chat, while a huge screen was positioned by the furthest wall, two microphones attached to what looked to be a high quality karaoke machine of sorts. Jo showed the way and they sat down with the rest, it didn’t take long for Harry, Dax, and Grace to join them. Y/N got out of her chair and tapped Grace on the shoulder.

“Haven’t gotten a hug yet,” Y/N said and Grace jumped off the ground, throwing her arms around Y/N’s neck. She laughed, hugging the little girl to her for a few heavenly seconds before she stepped away. “You look nice today.”

“Nanay told me not to spill anything on it,” Grace said as she gestured at her pink, sparkly dress. “I told her I can’t promise that.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’re doing well so far, I’d say.”

“Thank you!” Grace beamed. “Anyway, Harry’s drinking that drink that makes his breath smell awful.”

“Gracie,” Harry warned from where he now sat beside Ellie, but the little girl did not appear to want to hear what he had to say.

“How can you kiss someone with bad breath, Y/N?” Grace asked and Y/N’s heart dropped at little as she thought about kissing Harry again. How they weren’t going to kiss again. How she wanted to kiss him, but not because they were fake dating. It took everything in Y/N not to look in Harry’s direction, because, judging by his little utterance of his sister’s name before, she knew he must’ve heard this as well.

“You don’t care if they’ve got bad breath if you really want to kiss them,” Y/N answered, giving Grace a smile.

Grace grimaced. “I would never kiss someone if their breath stank.”

“Don’t talk about kissing, you’re seven,” Harry said, sipping his pint.

Y/N raised her eyebrows at Grace and Grace did the same back. At Grace’s instructions, Y/N sat down in her seat so Grace could sit in her lap. Grace watched the people singing intently, sometimes singing along and nodding her head along to the music like she couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to smile at the sight of it, Y/N simply cared for this little creature so much it was hard for her to fully comprehend it. Grace, though young and Harry’s little sister, was the closest thing Y/N had ever come to a sister. They didn’t have a deep connection through thoughtful conversation, but they just understood and went along. There was an emotional and meaningful connection that, though not talked about, had appeared because they enjoyed and appreciated each other’s company.

Grace ran over to a nearby table to get herself some water, leaving Y/N sitting in the chair alone, her lap feeling oddly cold. On the other side of the table, Amir was talking loudly over the karaoke battle that had just begun.

“When I go back up to London for work in two weeks’ time, I feel like I’m just gonna make a right fool of myself, yeah? Normally takes a week for me to turn my weird off after I’ve been home.”

“Gonna be weird when you and Jo are off again,” Ellie said. “Why do you two have to work in London? Why can’t you just stay in St Ives?”

“Bit liberating to leave this place for another one every once in a while, not gonna lie,” Jo admitted, sipping their beer.

“Makes you realise all you’ve missed,” Fatima nodded. “Was the same when I came home for uni breaks, now I’m just really happy I ended up here. Might be underpaid as a teacher, but-“ Fatima shrugged her shoulders. “-I love living and working here, it’s home, after all.”

Y/N hated that she had never experienced that feeling; of coming back to something you had missed. Of coming home.

“Bum that,” Dax said. “I want my mates home at all times! I don’t care you’ve got a job!”

Y/N chuckled, the conversation around them commencing as she looked down at the table, picking at a stain on the table. Grace came back just then, but she didn’t get to sit down before Dax said her name.

“Wanna go up and sing your heart out?”

Grace squealed and took Harry’s hand. Harry downed the rest of his beer and stood up, walking with Grace, Dax, and Amir up to the karaoke machine. Y/N rested her chin in her hand, smiling as she watched the four of them discuss what song to do. It had to be an easy one that Grace already knew, it might be hard to find the correct one. They took some time to decide, but suddenly, the drums to a song Y/N recognised from Harry’s favourite’s playlist started playing. She remembered how Grace really loved that playlist.

“Uptown girl,” Grace sang into the microphone as she perched on Harry’s hip, sharing microphone’s with him. “She’s been living in her uptown world.”

Dax and Amir joined in as well, singing along with Grace who was still unsure of the lyrics but tried to read them as best she could on the screen in front of them. Harry moved them to the music, Dax throwing an arm around Amir’s shoulders as they started singing their hearts out. It was simply impossible not to smile as you watched the four of them, dancing and singing along to Billy Joel’s song.

“God,” Fatima sighed as she scooched her chair closer to Y/N’s. “I wish someone looked at me the way Harry looks at you.”

Y/N halted a little at Fatima’s words, looking in her direction as Amir, Dax, and Grace sang “And now she’s looking for her downtown man, that’s what I am”.

“Pardon?”

Fatima grinned. “Oh, you know-“ She placed her chin in her head, looking off into the distance with exaggerated doe eyes, a dreamy look on her face. For a split second, Y/N’s heart seemed to lurch out of her chest. Harry… Harry looked at her like that? He glanced at her? Surely, Fatima was not being serious and she had simply caught Harry smiling at Grace when she sat in Y/N’s lap.

Y/N laughed. “You’re taking the mick, that’s not how he looks at me.”

“Wouldn’t know, would you? Always happens when you’re not looking.”

“Harry,” Grace said, not even bothering to hold the microphone away as she spoke to him in the middle of the song. “You need to sing, the song’s for Y/N, remember?”

Y/N glanced beyond Fatima and at the group in front of the screen, a rush of adrenaline streaming through her veins. Laughter could be heard throughout the room at Grace’s words, many turning in Y/N’s direction to look at her, all with smiles and curious looks on their faces. At once, Y/N’s face seemed to be too hot for its own good. She bit her bottom lip, continued to watch the gang, ignoring the heat in her cheeks.

Harry seemed to take a deep breath before he started singing with Amir and Dax, both of them doing a miserable job of doing the song any sort of justice. Neither were impressive singers, but Y/N knew Harry was.

“Uptown girl, you know I can’t afford to buy her pearls,” Harry sang, voice so effortlessly breath-taking that Y/N felt like she was doing a pretty good job of imitating the dreamy look Fatima had demonstrated earlier. “But maybe someday when my ship comes in, she’ll understand what kind of guy I’ve been, and then I’ll win.”

Grace joined in then, wrapping her arm around Harry’s shoulder and leaning her head against his. They all continued to sing along to the song, Y/N not paying any sort of attention to the conversation between Fatima, Ellie, and Jo. She watched as the four of them cheered once they were done singing, bowing to the small applause they got before returning to the table.

“I need to go tell nanay!” Grace shouted, running off outside to Jessa and the rest of the family.

Y/N smiled at Harry as he came back, getting a tight-lipped smile back before he picked up his, Dax’s, Amir’s and Jo’s empty beer cans, walking over to get them all a new round. Grace came back with Halo Halo, placing herself on Y/N’s lap as the two ate, talking non-stop. The little one disappeared after a little while, Y/N suspected it was because it was getting rather late. As the night went on, Y/N realised that the only two that would be able to stand by the end of the night were her and Fatima. The others got very drunk, talking loudly about everything insignificant and nothing they would remember in the morning. Harry kept looking at the watch on his wrist, clearly making sure that they got back to his at a good hour so he could report at 3am. When Harry’s speech got a bit more slurred and his eyes a wee hooded, Y/N started looking out for him. Using the time on her phone, she kept an eye out, making sure that Harry returned to his cottage before then so he could sleep off most of his intoxication.

Talking amongst themselves as the rest chatted loudly, Fatima and Y/N agreed that Fatima would be the one to drive everyone home. It would be easier to drop Harry off last as this was his van, and Fatima didn’t live too far away from the lighthouse, the two then decided Y/N would sleep at her place that night, it would be nice just being the two of them. She loved how closed she was getting to Fatima and Ellie. There hadn’t really been a time before when she had made proper good friends, but everyone around that table were currently climbing very fast and very high up on her list of favourite people in the entire world. She genuinely appreciated Fatima’s help with the UCAT reading earlier that week, it had really helped her along, even though the result hadn’t been the best. That was Y/N’s fault though, not Fatima’s teaching skills.

At one point, Dax got all of them up from the table, bringing them over to the screen, telling them over and over again how they needed to do this. Y/N was unsure if they really did, but she didn’t bother telling a very drunk Dax that as he handed out microphones, telling people to share. Y/N scooted up next to Ellie, watching Harry as he put an arm around Jo’s shoulder, patting them as the two of them along with Amir watched Dax search for the song.

“We need to know what song we’re gonna embarrass ourselves to,” Amir exclaimed as Dax was taking his time typing.

“I’m not about to do a Union J song, mate,” Ellie said.

“Alright, I liked one of their songs ten years ago, Ellie!” Dax looked over his shoulder at her, a deep furrow to his brow. “Carry You is a belter!”

“It’s not.”

“Jo, back me up here,” Dax said, turning back to write something into the laptop standing there.

“Dax… don’t make us sing Union J or The Wanted or JLS or anything like that, we don’t need that,” Jo sighed.

“The fact you’re embarrassed about our boyband period in 2013 hurts.” Dax glared at Jo.

“Right, then, what’s the song we’re singing?” Harry shot in, nodding at the laptop again. “We’re just standing here lookin’ stupid now.”

“Looking stupid?” Amir tutted, shaking his head. “Couldn’t be me, mate. Model material, this is. Look like I’m straight off the runway.” He gestured at his body and Fatima feigned throwing up, making the five drunks howl with laughter.

“Ultraviolet, Stiff Dylans.”

Y/N gasped at Dax’s words, bringing her hand up to her chest as the others around just looked at her, afraid something had happened. She grinned at Dax. “That used to be my favourite song!”

This seemed to be shocking news to absolutely everyone.

“What?” Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging was revolutionary.”

“Too right,” Harry said. “But… were you…” He blinked a few times. “Were you even allowed to watch it? Not a film I reckon would’ve been allowed in your house.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say, I used to be a rebel.”

“Yes, Y/N!” Dax grinned, giving Y/N a high five. “Now, bum God Save the Queen, this is Britain’s national anthem! Someone record this, history in the making!”

The familiar music started up and Y/N was taken back to a time when she had a massive crush on Aaron Taylor-Johnson, hiding her obsession with this film from her parents, and listening to this song on repeat. The whole gang started singing, Amir doing a horrible job of keeping up with everyone else, but it was fun to watch him get annoyed with himself for not getting it right. Involuntarily, Y/N’s eyes fell on Harry. He was singing his heart out, sounding better than everyone else, but in his drunken state he seemed to have forgotten some of the lyrics. However, everyone knew the song and it felt very good to be with people she adored, singing a song all of them knew and loved, together. She felt part of something bigger than herself in that moment.

Maybe that was why she did it. Because, looking back, Y/N did not quite know what came over her in that moment, but she loved herself for it. As the song started nearing the end, Y/N took the microphone out of Ellie’s hands and started singing at the top of her lungs, taking absolutely everyone by surprise but she did not care. Ellie started laughing and the rest joined in again towards the end, matching Y/N’s volume.

As she turned around after the song, grinning from ear to ear as she glanced at her friends, basking in their applause and cheers, she caught Harry’s eye. That crooked smile of his was on his face along with a look she wasn’t sure she had ever really seen before, maybe only once. Amusement tangled up with adoration, forming a sort of emotion that had yet to be given a word; someone on the cusp of surrendering themselves completely to the overpowering concept of love, yet still holding back in fear of the unrequited. As soon as their eyes met, Harry looked away, scratching at the back of his neck as he walked back over to their table, everyone following suit.

The time came for them all to leave and Harry gave Y/N the car keys, claiming that he was not fit to drive, though she had not needed him to tell her that. Y/N gave them over to Fatima and all of them made their way over to the van. The night sky was black, brimming with glinting stars and the moon hanging big and yellow over Cornwall, wishing them all a good night. Y/N walked over to Jessa and thanked her for her hospitality, asking her where lolo and Grace were. She explained they’d gone to bed a long time ago, lolo had probably read Grace a bedtime story and fallen asleep himself, he sometimes did that when he stayed the night at the farm.

Y/N ran over to the van, opening the passenger door to see Amir sitting there, a bag in front of him in case he should throw up on the way home. He gave Y/N a peace sign before she closed the door and opened the door into the backseats.

“There you are,” Jo said through a yawn. “Let’s go, Ima.”

“Y/N!” Harry called from further back in the van, making Dax groan and mumble a “shut up, mate” that Harry did not hear. “Y/N! My flower! Come back here, I saved us the whole back backseat!”

Y/N glanced in Fatima’s direction, only to see her friend raise her eyebrows at her, nodding her head. “He made a big fuss.”

“Y/N, come here, I want to tell you something,” Harry said, words slurring a bit. Y/N stepped into the van properly, closing the door behind her before she walked back to Harry, sitting down in the seat right beside him by the window, even though there were three seats in the far back of the car. The car jolted a little as Fatima started driving, steering the car up the gravel round and towards the centre of St Ives.

“What’d you wanna say?” Y/N asked Harry in a hushed voice, hoping he’d mimic her.

“I… I wanted to say something that’s been on my mind for a while now,” he said, whispering back to her, his face mere centimetres from her own. She felt hot all over, adoring their close proximity but also remembering the rule they had made some days ago. As they drove by the white fluorescent streetlights, Harry’s face lit up for a few seconds, making him appear almost angelic. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Okay.”

“It’s got to do with you.”

“Figured as much.”

Harry giggled, looking down at his hands where they rested between his legs, sliding his thumb along his other. “You’re very smart.”

“Thank you.”

“Smartest person I know.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “I doubt that.”

He pursed his lips as he thought. “You do that a lot.”

“What?”

“Doubt yourself.” He stared back at her, moving a little closer so their sides were flush against one another. “I think you’re great. I’ve never doubted you.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither knowing what to say as the world around them seemed to disappear completely. For a single moment, it looked like he was going to tilt his head to the side, almost as if he were getting ready to study her like he had done at Porthgwidden. He stopped himself, staring back at his hands.

“I don’t have any cucumber left,” Harry mumbled, this made Y/N giggle a little. “This ain’t gonna end well for me tonight if I don’t get that cucumber.”

Y/N giggled some more, bringing her hand to her mouth as Harry looked at her again, his crooked smile appearing on his face, dimple showing.

“What?”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re talking about a cucumber when you say it like that,” she said.

“What then?”

“Well… what’s kind of shaped like a cucumber?”

Harry furrowed his brows, thinking hard.

“You have it, I don’t.”

“A cock?” Harry mouthed, looking absolutely gobsmacked that Y/N would suggest such a thing, which made Y/N laugh again.

“Yeah, dildo or summat.”

“Y/N Bernadette Angelica McKay,” Harry gasped, shaking his head as his eyes fell on the road through the window beyond Y/N. “Saucy git.”

“You started it.”

“Well, you made it sexual.” Harry crossed his arms, pretending to roll his eyes to make Y/N laugh, which worked effortlessly. “Wouldn’t mind a dildo, not gonna lie.”

“Harry!”

“What?! It’s the truth!”

Y/N laughed again, watching as Ellie and Jo jumped out of the car once Fatima stopped it, waving at everyone before they started walking in the same direction. Fatima started the car over again just as Jo stumbled and almost face planted, making everyone in the van – including the two outside – crack up. Y/N settled into her own seat, looking down at her thighs as they drove off again, giggling a little to herself as she replayed Jo’s near-death experience in her head.

“I…” Harry started, and when she glanced up at him, he was smiling that very small smile back at her. It was barely there, making his dimples show ever so slightly, and it made every single butterfly in Y/N’s tummy flutter their wings madly. “I love the sound of your laughter.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

“It makes me happy.”

She knew that if she continued to look at Harry and he continued to look at her, she would just start feeling more for him. Though she knew it was inevitable, she would fall in love with him sooner or later, she wanted to slow the process out so that she didn’t end up spending too much time with him while she loved him.

“When you said you watched Angus, Thongs earlier, it kinda shocked me a bit,” Harry admitted, talking as if it was all part of his stream of consciousness. “Not that I think you’re innocent or anything like that, you don’t seem innocent- and when I say it like that it sounds weird.”

Y/N bit her lips together, trying not to laugh.

“From what I’ve heard your parents were very strict so…” Harry shrugged his shoulder, looking away from her again. He tilted his head a little to the side as he caught eye of Amir in the front. “Amir! Oi! If you throw up in my van I’m gonna murder you!”

“Shut up, Haz,” Dax groaned. “Y/N, why the fuck is your boyfriend so loud when he’s plastered? Bloody hell.”

“I’m not loud, I’m passionate.”

“About Amir not throwing up in your car?” Dax rolled his eyes. “Brilliant.”

Fatima stopped the car, shouting at Dax to get out and help Amir home. Dax slowly walked around the car and took Amir’s arm over their shoulder, the two walking off as Amir started singing a song that had been sung right before they left the farm. Fatima sat there and watched the two walk up the street, making sure they got inside Amir’s place where Dax would kip before she started driving towards the lighthouse.

The three were quiet for the last part of the drive, Harry seemingly about to doze off all of a sudden, humming Ultraviolet under his breath as they started driving up the gravel path to the lighthouse. Y/N just barely saw the light of the lighthouse before it disappeared, but did not pay any more notice to it as Harry leaned over her, glancing out the window as if to see his house. Once Fatima stopped the car, Harry reached for the seat buckle, fumbling for it in the dark before he finally got free.

“Help me inside?” he asked Y/N, making her lose her words a bit at first in surprise, but she quickly loosened her own seatbelt as Fatima turned around, about to jump out of the van as well.

“Just gonna help him get to bed, it’ll take five minutes,” Y/N told Fatima as Harry slid the backdoor open, getting out of the car.

“Ten if can force a cuddle out of her,” Harry said, chuckling a little to himself as he watched Y/N get out of the car and close the door behind her. She only raised her eyebrows at him, holding her hand out for his keys, which he gave her eagerly. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle him for ten minutes, she’d take cuddles for one minute if that’s all she got, but she knew he was only saying it in front of Fatima to make her believe them even more. He took his time walking to the front door, as if to drag the time out, while Y/N walked on inside, turning the lights on for him. It took some time for him to get his shoes off and while he did that, Y/N looked through his fridge, not seeing any cucumbers but a few tomatoes could maybe do as post-party food.

Harry put his rucksack with his camera down by the sofa, strolling over to the bathroom to do whatever he needed to do. Y/N put the tomato on the counter, making Harry a glass of water like he had made her last time and putting that along with the tomato on the dining table. Once he walked out of the bathroom, he rubbed at his eyes, giving Y/N a smile as their eyes met.

“Are you staying?”

“No, I… I’m going home with Fatima.”

Harry nodded. “You two…?”

Y/N chuckled some, feeling her cheeks get a little hot as she shook her head. “No, we’re friends. I’m kipping at hers.”

“Okay, good.” Harry nodded, biting the corner of his upper lip as he said, “I don’t like it when you’re alone.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what you said about your dad, that he was a bad man and all that.”

Y/N felt a sort of panic rise in her chest and she looked out the still open door, seeing Fatima sit by the stone fence circling the lighthouse, watching its lights. Harry yawned, lying down in his bed and glancing over at Y/N, his eyes trailing down her body. She felt herself blushing, both because Harry was staring at her like that and she did not want to talk about her dad, especially not while Harry was drunk.

“Can you stay?” His voice was soft, speaking with a meaning that went beyond the cottage and tonight.

“I’m going with Fatima.”

“I want you to stay, flower.”

She wanted to lay down next to him, slide her hand through his hair and watch as he closed his eyes, smiling ever so slightly and humming in total and utter contentment. Fall asleep next to him, feel his breath on her skin again, know that he was there to protect her if anything were to happen. She suddenly remembered how safe she had felt waking up here, how she had never slept as good as she did that single night she spent at Harry’s cottage. Never again would she feel like that, Y/N realised. Once she left St Ives in a couple of weeks, all the safeness and the sense of belonging would be ripped away from her. It would surely be like someone ripping off her arm.

Harry sat up in his bed as if he sensed a shift in the air around them, looking up at Y/N with slight worry but also a sort of desperation, silently asking her to please consider his offer. God, in that very second, it was very hard to resist him. Because when he looked at her like that, so attentive, so devoted to everything she did, she simply wanted to do nothing but lay down next to him and do what he asked. But she couldn’t, and with each passing second where they just looked at one another, the tension between them grew and she felt goosebumps up her back. She cleared her throat some.

“You wanted to tell me something earlier, was that it?” Y/N asked, wanting to get them talking about something else.

“What?”

“In the van, when I entered it, you said you had something to say, what did you have to say?”

“Oh,” Harry said as if suddenly remembering. He glanced away suddenly, scratching at the back of his neck. “No, it was… I wanted to tell you that… I know we haven’t spent much time together since the whole… since Terraland… last Saturday- so like, a week ago…”

She nodded, encouraging him to keep going.

“I’m sorry for that. I don’t… The last thing I’d ever do is hurt your feelings or make you uncomfortable.”

“I know, Harry.”

“I just…” He watched her, taking in every single one of her movements as if he would forget what she looked like when she left. “You and me, you know… we were sitting there together and… you were so pretty when we sat there at Porthgwidden, I couldn’t… I had to kiss you. Spur of the moment kind thing, I suppose.”

Y/N did not want to look at him, did not want to hear him say anything else. Had all the nice things he had said at the beach also been just “spur of the moment” then? So nothing was real? Not that she had thought it was, but that kind of just underlined it, didn’t it? She didn’t know what to think anymore, everything was so blurry, nothing seemed to really make sense. Everything was for the fake relationship, it always was.

“Y/N!” Fatima called from outside, Y/N glanced at her. “Say goodbye so we can leave!”

When she glanced back at Harry, Harry seemed to get a little desperate, not wanting her to leave just yet. But Y/N couldn’t stay.

“Y/N,” Harry said, maybe realising that what he’d said might’ve been a bit much. “I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

She gave him a smile. “We’ll talk soon, yeah?”

Harry just nodded, and she walked out the door and toward Fatima who was smiling at her. With one last glance over her shoulder, she saw Harry in the window over his dining table, looking out after Y/N and Fatima as they walked along the gravel path toward town. His hand was resting by the tomato she had laid there for him, hoping that it could somehow be a good second to his usual cucumber tradition after nights out. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as a slight cold breeze blew past them and Fatima audibly shivered.

“Yeah, would you look at that,” Fatima said as Y/N glanced her way. “Left me out in the wind, you did. Now I’m freezing.”

Y/N laughed, nudging Fatima’s shoulder with her own. The two friends went on back to Fatima’s place, acting as two old friends would.

Monday, 3 August

This was the first time Y/N had ever witnessed rain in St Ives since she arrived in June. It was not pouring down as one would assume after a long drought, a slight pitter-patter fell onto the grass around her as she walked along the gravel path, falling onto the hood of the yellow rain coat she was wearing. The sky was a dull grey, not something one should be worrying about, but there were a few darker clouds hovering somewhere in the horizon and she was sure that with this high of a temperature and the promise of pouring rain later on, lightning would occur as well.

Once she reached the lightkeeper residence, she knocked three times, waited a minute for Harry to open, then peeked her head in when he didn’t. Harry was sat by the dining table, looking through an instruction manual in front of him, frowning down at the pages as if he was reading a language he did not understand. At the sound of the door opening, he looked in Y/N’s direction, giving her a little smile.

“Saw you approach just now,” he said before looking down at the manual before him again.

“So you didn’t bother opening the door for me?” she asked, smiling over at him, but Harry did not answer. This was what she had been afraid of.

Ever since the karaoke and barbeque night at the farm, Harry had not met her gaze. Whenever she had come over to study, he wouldn’t spend too long in the cottage with her and he would rarely make her tea as he usually did. There was something not subtly cold, but different. He still welcomed her to sit in his windowsill and would still talk to her, but he wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t stay around for long enough so they could talk properly. Y/N had tried, even suggested they go down to the Bakery to buy a pasty and walk around St Ives, go to the Candy Shoppe, or to the pub to have a few pints, but Harry had turned down all her offers, told her they could do it another time. He never really gave an explanation for why he didn’t want to hang out and Y/N was afraid of asking for one. But they had to talk. She didn’t want to go on like this, especially when Harry had come to mean so much to her.

“What’re you up to, then?” She took her coat and boots off, walking over to where Harry was seated by the dining table.

“I’m about to change the bulbs before it starts getting dark out and the lamp’s turned on,” he explained, furrowing his brows as he ran his finger over the page, concentrating on reading a specific line. Y/N stayed silent as not to disturb anything. He got up from the chair, sipping the last of his tea before he shoved the manual down in the back pocket of his denim shorts. He slipped his red knitted jumper over his Elton John tee shirt, the same one he had given to Y/N to wear after Dax’s birthday party when she slept over for the first time.

“Can I help?” she asked, giving him a smile she hoped he’d lay his eyes on her to see.

And he did, lips parting a little as if he was surprised by the suggestion. This puzzled Y/N as she had always expressed her willingness to help him, no matter what.

“Go on, then.” Harry nodded. “Just needed a cuppa before I started, it’s well past 6 after all.”

“You’re going to bed soon?”

“Yeah, and the lamp gets turned on in about an hour.”

Y/N smiled as he walked past her. “You’ve been procrastinating all day, have you?”

“Not all day.”

She laughed and she thought she saw the flicker of a smile on Harry’s lips at the sound.

“I’ve done other things as well, but I need this done now and quickly.”

Y/N nodded, putting her rain boots back on as Harry got his trainers on, the two then jogging in the direction of the lighthouse as not to get soaked in the rain that was starting to fall harder around them. Harry held the door open for her, then locked it once they were both inside. They started their ascent, Harry leading them past his little office floor, past the bedroom like room, up and up and up, till they finally reached the bell room. Even though Y/N was wearing a short white sundress with her green oversized boxy high-neck jumper along with her mid-calf black rain boots, she walked up the ladder leading to the bell room. She remembered how she had been reluctant to walk up wearing a dress that first time, but now she didn’t really care. Harry needed to change the bulbs and she said she was going to help.

Along the way, Harry had brought a toolbox with him, placing it up on the floor of the bell room before he walked up the ladder, letting Y/N go on up after him. For some reason it shocked Y/N when she came up to see that the lamp – the only thing inside the bell room – was not moving. She had imagined that the light in lighthouses moved around, and though Harry had explained what offshore and shore-based lighthouses were, the pattern of a lighthouse and the like, he hadn’t really explained how the lamp worked.

“It doesn’t rotate,” she said, walking up to the relatively small lamp in the middle of the room.

Harry was rummaging through his toolbox, stopping momentarily as he glanced over his shoulder at Y/N, unsure what she was referring to first, then let his eyes fall to the lens. “It flashes.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, walking around the lens to get a good look at it, studying the ridges and different colours of it, blank and red. “flashes?”

Harry pulled a screwdriver out of the toolbox and started working on the screws around the lamp. “It’s to identify it when it’s dark out, sailors can’t make out the white lighthouse when it’s night-time.”

“Makes sense.”

“Most lighthouses, especially shore-based ones like Clodgy, rhythmically flash or eclipse their lights to provide an identification signal. The particular pattern of flashes or eclipses is known as the character of the light, and the interval at which it repeats itself is called the period.” Harry tipped the plastic lens to reveal the five lightbulbs under it; Y/N was surprised to see it wasn’t made of glass. She supposed it was more convenient. “Essentially, a lighthouse may display a single flash, regularly repeated at perhaps 5-, 10-, or 15- seconds intervals. This is known as a flashing light. Clodgy is one of them.”

“What are these then?” Y/N asked, pointing to the red streaks.

“Basically, if someone is on sea and they are driving in the direction of sharp rocks or land, they’ll see a red light flashing instead of a normal, yellow one.”

“Danger, danger.”

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a box and putting it on the little space underneath the lamp.

“How many bulbs are there?” Y/N asked, looking at the different ones all attached to a round object in the middle of the lens.

“Five, they usually don’t have to be changed out. You gotta do so every 15-25 years, depending. This little thing-“ Harry pointed to the small bulb between them. “Lights up 15 miles using these lenses. It’s incredible.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, seeing a tiny and amused smile on his face as he talked. This was the most she had heard him talk in over a week; it made her heart do a silly fluttery thing.

“When one of these five bulbs go out, the apparatus knows that the bulb no longer works and it will rotate and-“ Harry placed his finger on the side of the bulb, rotating it to the right so that the apparatus turned, clicking as another bulb fit into place at the top. “-Click to a new bowl, it’s on automation and all that. So, we rarely change the bulbs.”

She bit her bottom lip as she watched him, not able to help herself. It was just so endearing to watch him like this, so amazing to hear him talking so unfiltered to her again. Right then, talking about bulbs and apparatuses and what not, he was so engulfed, so eager to tell her everything, that he did not care how he sounded. He was comfortable. She could tell.

He must’ve noticed how he rambled off, because he cleared his throat and stood up straight again, running a hand through his hair as a slight pink colour appeared in his cheeks. He quickly started to change the first bulb, putting a new on in its stead. Y/N just watched him, finding the sound of Harry working, the slight clicks, the quiet patter of the rain against the windows surrounding them, very relaxing. He seemed to be relaxed as well, so she thought this might be the best time as any.

Inhaling slowly, she leaned her hands on either side of the slight counter the lamp was standing on. She looked over it at Harry, his bottom lip between his teeth as he put the second bulb in its new place.

“Harry, we…” she started, swallowing thickly. “We need to talk about… things.”

Harry sighed. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

Knowing he felt the same way about that made it easier to breathe for a reason. At least she wasn’t going into this the same way she had been going into the Emilia situation after Dax’s birthday.

He started on the third bulb as he started talking, beating Y/N to it. “I, uhm… I want to tell you about my dad.”

This came as a shock to Y/N who was left raising her eyebrows at him for a second or two before saying, “Yeah, alright.”

He glanced up at her over the lightbulb. “You didn’t see it coming?”

“We’ll talk about your dad first,” Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “We have time. We’ll always have time.”

“But that’s the thing…” Harry trailed off, switching out the fourth bulb, not meeting her eyes. “We don’t. If there’s one thing we won’t always have, it’s time. There won’t ever be enough time spent with your loved ones, there just won’t. No matter how much time you spend or how much time you spent with someone, you’ll always want more time. Always. What you got is never enough.”

The rain outside fell a little harder against the windows of the bell room, the wind a little harsher.

“Two years ago, my dad went on a fishing trip. He usually did this, took a few of his mates and then set off out wherever. They were never gone for more than a day tops, they always returned at night with tons of fish and I remember how Jessa would be so delighted and then invite our whole family over for barbecues and the like.” He paused as he started on the fifth and last bulb. “One day, September 4th to be exact, he didn’t return. Jessa and I sat up for hours waiting for signs of him. She started calling the spouses of the others on the boat, no one else had returned either.”

Y/N absolutely hated that she knew where this was going but she hadn’t told Harry that yet.

“Dax ended up sleeping at the lightkeeper house with me for a month and some after that, just didn’t want me to be alone, you know? He’s sound like that.” Once he was done putting the bulb in place, he reached for the lens and put it back where it belonged. “I think most of my mates and the people in my family’s life tried to keep our minds off it, ‘cause the more days went by, the more likely it was that… you know… he was dead.”

Harry sighed, reaching for the screwdriver, taking a little pause in talking as he screwed everything back into place. Y/N took a few steps back, watching him do his job and make himself ready to talk again.

“The boat was found October 14th, no one and nothing was in it.” Harry still wouldn’t look at her, put the screwdriver back in the toolbox and kept his back to her for a few seconds before turning around again. The bell room was starting to get relatively dark; she supposed the light would turn on soon, and she could barely make out the slight glassy expression in Harry’s eyes.

“I went absolutely mad. There are big chunks of time that I don’t even remember from that time, my brain has just… erased it from my memory, it was the darkest period of my life. They didn’t find any of the passengers’ bodies, there were three of them as well. It had been a turbulent and stormy night, so a sea storm took them out, drowned them all. But I… I…” Harry inhaled hugely, breathing shakily. “I didn’t… I still kinda don’t want… want to believe it. My dad is laying somewhere, far away from me, far away from Jessa, Gracie, from… from home…” He looked down at the ground, blinking rapidly. “It doesn’t fucking feel real. It’s not supposed to happen. This… He was a good sailor; he didn’t drown at sea.”

Y/N felt something starting to sting behind her eyes, she bit her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. The storm outside seemed to pick up, sounding rougher than a minute before.

“I took over after him because I thought… I thought that, if no one else could, I could help him find the way home. I could shine that light; I’d take care of the lighthouse till he came back home. I’d show him the way, I’d light up the path for him, and he’d come home to me again. Where he belonged, where he should’ve been all along.” He took a deep breath, slowly looking up again, eyes falling to the lamp in the middle of the room. “It was a way for me to ignore the fact that he was truly dead. He wouldn’t come back. I didn’t really… I didn’t realise how… I didn’t realise how true it was that my dad, my constant, was gone, until Emilia left as well.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, a sort of rage filling her again. She had never been this angry before. There was something burning inside her, a sort of desire to protect Harry from everything evil in the world. No one deserved to hurt, but Harry least of everyone.

“I met Emilia at one of Astronaut Lions’ gigs the year before. I remember standing at the bar and she came up to me, asked me if I was Amos’ son – that’s my dad’s name, by the way - to which I said yes, and she told me her dad used to lend my dad and his mates his fishing boat sometimes. My dad and hers knew each other. So, we got talking, and, I want to say it’s ‘cause our dads knew each other, we got pretty close, pretty fast.”

Talking about Emilia brought Y/N’s gagging reflex into full force, but she composed herself.

“When my dad died, she was around, but not as often as Dax, Amir, Jo, Fatima, Ellie, or my family. She visited and stuff, kept me occupied, but the gang spent a lot of time at my place, occasionally rotating. It was nice, I didn’t want to be alone. I love being alone, but I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts then.”

Harry leaned against the window, eyes falling to the floor. Y/N continued to stand where she had, watching Harry carefully.

“We had been together for a year and some then. We hadn’t really fought much, I don’t really like confrontation, it makes me very uncomfortable, so I usually just let her say what she wanted to say if she was annoyed with me and didn’t bother arguing. Fatima kept telling me how unfair it was on her and our relationship, and also on myself, that I never really stood up for myself when we fought. It’s, like… I wanted it to work out so much that I wanted to ignore the things that didn’t. I didn’t want to do something that might cause us to break up.” He sighed heavily. “We were good for each other, we did have some good times, and she was my first ever proper girlfriend that broke my heart, but… but these last few weeks I’ve come to realise that she never really wanted what was best for me the way all my mates did.”

Y/N wanted to walk over to him and hug him. She wanted to console him; tell him she was there if he needed anything.

“I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about that part of my life, you know? I’m aware that breaking up with someone ‘cause they’re bad for your mental health is valid, but what she did really affected me. It made the grieving process worse. I had never really felt truly alone till then.” He furrowed his brows some. “I didn’t have dad; I didn’t have Emilia… I knew I had my mates, but… Emilia and dad meant so much to me, losing them both in such a short period of time… broke me.”

Y/N swallowed a lump in her throat, hoping he couldn’t hear how sad his story made her. “Harry, you don’t have to elaborate if it’s hard for you.”

“No, you deserve to know. Emilia’s back, you’re my… my supposed girlfriend and you… I want you to know.”

Y/N nodded, clutching at the hem of her jumper.

“I know it was a naff move on my part when I went with her to get her that cup, I know I should have understood why you were rightfully upset right away, I know I shouldn’t have been too friendly when she came to Terraland…” Trailing off, he balled his hands into fists at his sides. “The reason why I’ve been so reluctant to push her out of my life is… I know it’s fucking mental; I know I sound right mad, yeah? But… I figured that if she could return, then maybe… then maybe dad…” Harry didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.

Y/N shook her head as the only thing in the bell room that was audible was the sound of the rain and wind outside, sounding eerie and strong against the top of the lighthouse. “It’s not mental. It’s a very valid and normal reaction to grief, clinging onto the last shred you have of someone, hoping that one day they might come back to you.”

Harry looked at her feet, not ready to meet her eyes yet.

“My dad and I have never been close. I used to love being around him when I was little, I remember associating him with goodness and warmth. He would play with me and make me laugh, do things that my mum hated him for.”

“Like?”

“Throw me in the air, let me jump from a bunk bed and onto the mattress on the floor below, that sort of thing.” Y/N almost smiled at the memory. She hadn’t thought about that in ages. “However, as I grew up, my dad just got colder. He was still nice to me, was still protective and a dad, but he wasn’t the same.”

Y/N could tell by the slight breath Harry inhaled that he wanted to ask what changed but stopped himself. She was grateful he did. She could not go that far just yet.

“But… though it’s not the same as you, I respected my dad’s wishes to stay in Winchester and do as my mum; become a stay-at-home mum who didn’t need education or anything like that. He wanted me to marry well and learn how to be a mum; learn how to be safe at home and mostly indoors at all times.” She furrowed her brows some. “I believed him when he told me I wouldn’t be fit to become a dentist.” She paused for a moment. “You know when you’re scared, and you believe every word your parents say to you ‘cause you don’t know what else to do? They’re older, wiser, got more experience, so of course they know better than you, they know the best thing to do in any given situation.”

Harry nodded slightly.

“Before… Before I came to St Ives, I hadn’t really parted from my family at all. It wasn’t really like I had a choice. They were just always there, and I was expected to be there, too. I was terrified when I left; not only didn’t my parents know I was leaving, but I had just disappointed them in every way possible anyway, so I… I couldn’t stay there.” Her eyes fell on the lamp that yet hadn’t turned on.

Harry cleared his throat, eyes still on the lens in the middle of the room. “Your parents don’t know you’re here?”

“They do now.”

“You told them?”

Y/N felt her heart pick up its speed, she swallowed thickly, continuing to avoid Harry’s eyes. “What I’m trying to get at is that I haven’t, and probably won’t, tell them about the UCAT, or the fact that I’m trying to become a dentist. Part of me wishes that I did, but I know the reaction I’m gonna get… And the other part of me… That part is longing for that loving and warm father to return, the one that helped me fly when I was little.” She leaned against the window. “It’s not the same as you by any means, but it’s-“

“-It’s just as valid, Y/N.”

She shook her head some, looking out at the tall waves below. “You ever get the feeling that, no matter what, you won’t really be good enough, and you settle down with that thought? It’s not this hopeless feeling, but rather you’re just… content with that. You’re average so you’ll get average back.”

“You’re not average.”

She looked over at him, and for what seemed like the first time that day, their eyes met.

“Did your parents make you feel that horrible about yourself?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “In what way?”

“That you were average? Not destined for good things? That you didn’t deserve proper happiness?”

“I was satisfied with life in Winchester.”

“Satisfaction and happiness are two vastly different things.”

It seemed like he wanted to take a step forward but stopped himself, taking a deep breath before settling against the window again. Y/N pushed slightly away from the wall, standing closer to the light.

“It’s like the whole thing with me and Emilia again, innit? There were times when I was happy with her, but I think that’s more to do with the fact that I knew she was there. I could always rely on her. But bottom line is that being with her didn’t bring me instant and constant happiness like-“ He stopped himself, as if remembering there were things he wasn’t supposed to say. “She didn’t make me happy like she should’ve. I was satisfied.”

“Isn’t being at peace good? If someone or something brings you peace, isn’t that good?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders some. “There are different kinds, though. Your life and the people in it should be able to make you feel something, you know? Not being excited to see someone or to be somewhere or to do something, it does nothing. You don’t grow if you’re satisfied ‘cause you’re not moving, you’re not evolving.”

“Being happy isn’t a constant, though. You can’t always be happy, sometimes you’re just… not.”

“How boring would life be if you felt the same way, did the same things, saw the same people every single day? How boring would it be without change?”

Y/N felt herself smiling. “You’re a lighthouse keeper, you do the same things every single day.”

“I don’t, though,” he said. “I might be stuck here in St Ives most of the time, but I never do the same thing every single day. And besides…” He trailed off, biting his bottom lip some. “Besides life’s been anything but ordinary lately.”

Y/N glanced at her arms in front of her. “I… I hated change.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“To a degree,” she said. “I’m happy with the decision I made to leave my old life behind, but now… now I don’t really know what to do. I’m going to apply for University, but what if I’m too old? I’m 25, way older than everyone else there will be, and I… I dunno. I feel like I have to figure myself out all over again now that I don’t have my parents around me anymore, it’s like I don’t know who I am. Once this summer is over and I leave St Ives – ‘cause St Ives, you, and everyone here, are genuinely what’s keeping me together right now – I… I dunno how I’m going to survive. Will I have myself when I don’t even know who I am? Is it too late for me to get a fresh start? Who- Who will be there to help guide me in the right direction if I have no one in my life?”

There was no trace of hesitation as Harry said, voice deep and low, “You’ll always have someone.”

“Will I? I feel lost, Harry.” She blinked a few times, hoping to prevent possible tears from falling. “I’m so lost. Where do I even go from here? I don’t and can’t go back to how life used to be, where do I go?”

“Don’t go.”

She glanced up at him, the lamp beside them suddenly coming to life with a massive blink. Though the suddenness of the light had scared her, Harry’s words had been what got her heart racing. The light blinked in the direction of the sea, the other side from where they stood so Y/N couldn’t see it directly, only the dark back that was facing the mainland. However, she could not care less for the light as Harry stared back at her, right into her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever. She felt herself relax at the sight of him, but his words still reverberated through her head, making it spin slightly.

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeated, stepping away from the window. “Stay.”

Her arms fell to her sides. “You… You want me to stay in St Ives?”

It took a few seconds, as if he was building up the courage to say something he thought was obvious, but, seemingly, not so obvious to Y/N. “Yes.”

“But I…” She trailed off, blinking a few times as if she were trying to regain composure. “You’ve never said.”

“’Cause I’ve always been afraid of your reaction.”

“My… my reaction?”

“If it would scare you.”

“Why would that scare me?”

“’Cause someone telling you they care for you more than… more than they care for anyone else, and you not feeling the same way… I don’t want to scare you.”

Y/N was sure she had not heard him right. And if she had, she must have misinterpreted his statement, because surely he had not just said what she thought he said. The light blinked its usual pattern, lighting up the darkening bell room as the two just stood staring at one another.

“I thought you only felt like that for Emilia.”

Harry frowned, shaking his head as if what he’d just heard was absurd. “Emilia?”

“Well, then… then that you used to feel like that for her, that you two used to be close. I’ve been jealous of that, after all.”

“You’ve been jealous?” Harry’s eyes were wide, intently staring at Y/N as she continued to explain. “How do you mean?”

“Dunno…” Y/N said, knowing that she probably sounded like an absolute plonker. “You’ve always seemed pretty caught up on her. That you still have feelings for her.”

He studied her, mouth falling shut as he let his eyes scan her face, saying a soft, “I don’t.”

“But- But why do you blush when she’s around, then?”

At the mention of him blushing, a red colour appeared in his cheeks and he glanced away for a few seconds, running his hands through his hair. Y/N could not help a small smile on her lips, biting at the corner of her mouth to stop herself from doing so.

“I get flustered, don’t I? It’s not like I can help it,” Harry explained, gesturing at his face as he took a few steps forward. “She’s my ex, it’s weird being around her.”

“You act so shy, though. Isn’t that how you are around people you’re nervous in front of?”

“I acted like that with you as well, did you notice?”

Y/N felt a breath hitch in her throat, something about Harry admitting this made her entire body hot. Part of her did not believe this could be true, it was just too good, while the other urged her to keep going, see what happened next. She shook her head slightly. “I-I dunno.”

“I was so bloody nervous,” Harry said, chuckling a little to himself. “It was genuinely hard for me to form sentences ‘cause I didn’t want to make a right twit of myself, yeah? I just… I wanted to impress you so bad, but it was so hard.”

She pressed her lips together, heart hammering hard, hands feeling clammy with anticipation.

“I’m not nervous around you anymore, though.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I feel safe with you now. I don’t care that I make a fool of myself ‘cause you won’t mind.”

She smiled a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He gestured around him with a soft jerk of his chin. “You’re a light room.”

Y/N wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but stopped herself when their eyes met again. She wanted to walk to him, to be near him.

“It’s like…” Harry started, pausing for a few seconds before he went on. “It’s weird being around someone you thought meant a lot to you and you realise they didn’t. But with you… that’s…” He glanced at the ground again, tugging at the hem of his red jumper. “It’s different.”

She continued to just look at him, afraid that if she said anything he would stop.

“It’s… it’s like I… like-“ He cleared his throat, suddenly blushing uncontrollably, and it was as if he knew how ridiculous he must look because he let out a small laugh. “You were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen and I wanted to impress you, I didn’t want to embarrass myself and have you not want to be around me anymore.”

His eyes fell to her feet, moving up over her bare legs, landing on her tummy as he continued to find the words lost somewhere within him. He took a deep breath.

“I’m not good with words, so explaining how much you mean to me is hard, but I know that I… that you…” He drifted off again, meeting her eyes. “You were the person I wanted to be in the arms of at Terraland, when I was all shaken up ‘cause of that ride, not Emilia, no one else but you. And you’re the only person I want to be in the arms of right now, tomorrow, and probably every single day after that. I like it when you hold me, when you’re around. That’s all I know.” His eyes fell to her lips for a second, meeting her eyes as if he remembered that was forbidden territory. She had said as much. “I like it when we touch, everything seems at once much simpler but also so much more important and grander because of you.”

Biting her bottom lip, Y/N walked closer to Harry, and at the sight, he took two more steps closer as well, meeting right beside the lamp that was still occasionally lighting up the bell tower and the entire coast along with it. Standing right there in front of one another, something that could only resemble magic passed between them and circled around them, drawing them closer to one another. They were meant to be close, meant to be right here, with one another. It was wrong to be anywhere else than with Harry. She didn’t feel as lost when he was here; there was a sense of reason, of purpose, when they were together that was so great to the point of invention, there was no other way of explaining it. This, what was between then, was beyond anything. Limitless, unfathomable, immeasurable; infinite.

“I want to touch you,” Y/N said, her voice almost a whisper as she, once again, glanced at his lips.

“Touch me. Please.”

Slowly and gentler than she had ever been before, she placed her hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over the slight stubble before she slid the tips of her fingers to the back of his jaw and then forth again. He closed his eyes, leaning into her.

“Please, touch me,” he repeated, the breath of his pleading words falling against her hot wrist. “Never stop.”

She studied his face, loving the calming effect she had on him because it matched the one he had on her. Though he made her heart race and had her overthinking everything, he calmed her down and made her feel at peace. Exhilarated her and confused her; overwhelmed her and elated her. He made her feel everything all at once, and Y/N thought at last, wasn't that what love really was? When you felt like the feelings inside your body transcended everything, made you see everything around you in a new light? When it changed your world for the better?

Y/N’s hand slid down Harry’s cheek and his neck, and at the change, he opened his eyes to look at her again. She took another step forward, leading him toward her as her eyes fell to his lips, meeting his eyes as they hovered dangerously close to one another. The light blinked on and Y/N pressed her lips against Harry’s. They melted into each other instantly. Harry placed one of his hands to her neck and the other one to her hip, bringing her closer. She breathed against him, the rest of the world around them disappearing completely as they drew out the kiss.

His tongue traced her bottom lip, making a shiver run up her spine. Gently, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, making sure she did not overwhelm him, that it was okay. He instantly complied, stroking his against hers, swirling his around hers sensually, lighting Y/N on fire. She moaned into him, gripping at the hair at the back of his neck as their mouths opened wider, welcoming more of the other to enter and entrance them completely. She ran her other hand over his chest, wrapping it around him, while Harry’s slid down along her back, stopping just before he reached her bum, squeezing her a little as if he wasn’t mentally ready to go down there just yet tonight. The bell room continued to illuminate up, shining its guiding light out across the ocean, helping sailors home and to their final destinations. However, neither Y/N nor Harry could even remember where they really were as they continued to kiss one another. She felt his moan on her tongue, a slight whimper that he had not been able to hold back as they deepened the kiss. They instantly got more frantic; desperate, harder. She pushed against him more forcefully, wanting to taste and feel all of him.

For an instant, and what felt like for the first time since they had known each other, Harry took control. He pressed her against the bar with the lamp, keeping one hand on her neck, thumb at her chin, and the other on her waist. She gasped at the suddenness, her entire body aflame as Harry kissed along her jaw, tilting her head as to get better access. She could not help the contented sigh that left her lips, pushing him even closer to her, wrapping her left leg around his right one as to ensure he did not step away from her.

He whispered her name against her neck, leaving wet kisses along the skin that was exposed and that he could reach without removing the high neck of her jumper. He kissed the tip of her jaw, sucking lightly, and she could not hold back her whimper. It seemed to have had an effect on him that she herself had not anticipated, yet absolutely adored. Between them, pressed against her tummy, she could feel him. It seemed to have startled him as well, maybe not having anticipated it to happen that quickly, but he kissed along her neck again, seemingly not really caring anymore. He wanted her to know just how much power she held over him. He came back to her face, lips hovering above hers. They panted against one another, not letting each other go as the rain outside picked up, thunder rumbling in the distance, and the light that Y/N was pressed up again kept lighting up the ocean ahead.

“I, uhm…” Harry stared down, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry ‘bout… that.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head slightly. “Don’t apologise for that.” She brought her leg further up, twining it more around him to bring him closer. As if it was instinctual, Harry reached for her thigh, helping her bring it up to his waist. She let out another sigh, loving how he drew closer to her in the process of yanking her leg up higher. Their eyes met again, and she leaned her forehead against his.

“I thought we agreed on a ‘no kissing rule’,” Harry mumbled, lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “I thought you didn’t want to kiss me.”

“I want to kiss you; I just don’t want it to be part of our fake relationship.”

“This has nothing to do with that.” He moved to kiss her again and spoke against her lips. “I need to ask you, though, before anything more happens.”

She watched him, the sight of him slightly blurry but she did not care.

“There’s… There’s a bed… downstairs if you'd be interested in… you know…”

She smiled.

“In what?”

Harry smiled, giggling a little as he leaned his forehead against hers again. “I don’t want there to be mixed signals, so I’m just… I’m just gonna fucking say it.”

“Say it.”

He gripped her knee tighter. “Do you want to have sex with me? ‘Cause I… I mean, it’s not the sexiest way to go about it, just asking like that, but I… it’s very obvious that I would like- very much like to… you know, if you’d like. I don’t want to-“

She chuckled and Harry stopped talking, smiling at her. “I think asking is very sexy. Mixed signals aren’t sexy.”

“You’re right.”

She leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“Flower,” he mumbled, voice rasping ever so slightly, making heat instantly pool between her thighs. “Would you let me make you feel good?”

“Do you think you can?”

Harry met her eyes, a crooked smile coming to his lips. “I’ve had no complaints before.”

“No complaints from Emilia?”

A slight furrow appeared between his brows before it lifted, his smile came back and it got wider. “You really were jealous of her.”

“She got to be close to you.”

“Well,” Harry said, eyes fluttering to her lips. “You’re close to me now. You’re closer to me than anyone’s ever been before.”

Y/N squeezed him closer, biting her lip before she said, “Yes.”

“You… you want to go downstairs?”

“Yes.”

Harry’s smile grew so wide it was hard for him to fight just how giddy he was getting at her words. He stepped away from her, taking her hand in his. They left the blinking bell room, climbing down the ladder, Harry securing the hatch before he turned to face Y/N again. Once they were in the near darkness of that room, they kissed again, desperate to feel one another again. This happened almost on every single floor – pressing each other up against a wall, needy to feel, to taste, to be close – as they could simply not help themselves.

Once they reached the floor, Y/N instantly recognised the door and where they were headed. On her first trip to the lighthouse, she had seen a bed in that room, the door had been half open, but Harry had closed it on their way down. Now, Harry opened it for her, letting her inside. It was tiny. A twin bed stood at the far end, its white sheets made neatly over it, while the desk – which stood perched right under a small window that was being attacked by harsh rain - was filled with photographs of Harry’s family. Him, Amos, Jessa, and Grace. There was a dresser with a vase on top, a bouquet of dead flowers in it that it seemed Harry had forgotten completely about.

Harry closed the door behind them. “This used to be my dad’s room. When it was stormy, he’d stay in here. The door sometimes opens on its own, logically I know it’s just a draught, but…” He shrugged his shoulders and Y/N knew what he meant.

Instead of focusing on that – because they could talk about this in the morning – Y/N said, “Kiss me.”

Harry wasted no time. He marched over to her, pressing his lips hard against hers as he started walking her backwards toward the bed. He let her lay down first, taking her rain boots off before she wiggled up to the top, watching as Harry crawled his way up to her, hovering his lips over hers as to tempt her. She tried to lean up to kiss him since he was taking too long, but he moved further away.

“Twat.”

He chuckled, grinning down at her. “How long do you think you can stand not kissing me?”

She brought her hand up to his neck, bringing him down towards her lips. They kissed again – finally. She felt Harry smile against her lips.

“Needy.”

“You were taking too long.”

“You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

She wanted to roll her eyes at him, but he was correct. She wrapped her legs around him, bringing his core down onto hers. Harry groaned into her; his erecting cock pressed against her heat. He melted into her instantly, burying his hands in her hair.

“Neither can you,” she whispered back, making Harry let out a breathy chuckle.

“I also just want to make it clear,” he said against her lips. “If anything I do is not working, doesn’t do anything for you, doesn’t feel good, or if you want to try something new, a new position or anything like that, tell me, yeah?”

She smiled, nodding her head as they kept kissing. “Yeah. Same goes for you.”

“Do you have a favourite position?”

Y/N froze a little, thinking to herself and blushing when Harry looked down at her.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve… only ever really done two.”

“Two… positions?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, did you enjoy them?”

“Yeah, I did. Sex was never really been about enjoyment as much as it was about closeness.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “You should enjoy sex, Y/N.”

“I know, I know. I just… I used to set fire to myself to keep others warm. I realised that was not what I should be doing, which is why I ended up in St Ives. With you. Here.”

Harry leaned down again, pressing a lingering and deep kiss to her lips. “You will enjoy yourself and feel real fucking good tonight, yeah? We’ll find something that works for both of us.”

She smiled. “Time will tell.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I’ll feel real fucking good.”

Harry halted a little as he heard that word slip from her lips. He had never heard it before. She felt the effect it had on him against her. “I’ll show you, flower.”

He reached down to the hem of her jumper and the two got it off her, throwing it to the floor before they started kissing again. She wrapped her legs around him again, resting her heels at the top of his bum, urging him closer to her. Slowly and deliberately, Harry grinded against her, revealing them both of a small fraction of pleasure, increasing the anticipation that was building in the air around them. Hard against her most delicate spot. She felt a desperate need to reach for him, to feel him right there, as ready for her as she was for him, but she liked this much better. Feeling him moan against her, the slow waves of his hips as he stroked his growing erection against the heat between her legs that was aching. His promise lingered in the back of her head, making her nipples perk at the thought. You will enjoy yourself and feel real fucking good tonight.

Harry’s hand slipped down the front of her white summer dress, lingering over her breast where he felt her already hard nipple. He squeezed her breast, bringing what he could of the nipple between his index and middle finger, squeezing lightly as he started kissing down her jaw. An uncontrollable moan left her mouth as he kissed her neck, chest, between her covered breasts. She felt hot all over as he kissed his way down, leaving no spot untouched by his swollen lips. He reached her thighs, kissing up her right one, leaving wet spots that got cold in the crisp air of the lightkeeper room.

“Turn over,” he said, sitting up on his knees to make the process easier for her.

She did as he told her to without hesitation. Again, he leaned over her, nose nuzzling her hair as he kissed her exposed shoulder. Each one of the kisses he trailed down her shoulder place, and back felt like a declaration of love; felt like a promise of forever, of safe keeping. Right in that moment, she realised she had never felt more appreciated or more turned on. She felt so seen, so important, as Harry kept kissing her back, sucking on her skin, humming moans of absolute delight into her that made goosebumps appear all over her. He reached for the zipper of her dress, kissing her shoulder before he whispered, “Okay if I undress you?”

“Please.”

Harry unzipped her dress, leaving a lingering kiss to her shoulder as he shoved both the straps off her shoulders. She took them off, letting the dress hang loosely over her breasts. Just because she felt like it, she lifted her arse off the bed, pressing it against Harry’s hard-on. It took him off guard and he gasped a little into her ear, but quickly took a grip around her waist. He pressed down hard on her, parting her bumcheeks as his protruding cock could now be seen, and felt, outside his denim shorts.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he grinded against her. His hands slipped down further, hovering over her centre, laying a slight pressure on her over her dress and knickers that was exactly what Y/N needed right then.

“Harry,” she whimpered, feeling him moan at her utterance.

“Dreamed about you saying my name like that,” he mumbled, kissing her shoulder again. “Sound even fucking better than I could’ve imagined.”

He placed more pressure on her, making her gasp and throw her head back slightly, leaning it against Harry’s beside her. They grinded against one another, absolutely lost in this seductive dance that they would have no problem doing forever. Panting a little, Harry kissed her shoulder again, knowing that they could not go on like that, no matter how much they wanted, because he would surely not be able to handle much of it before finishing. The heat between Y/N’s legs was excruciating, she could barely take it as Harry pulled her dress completely off her, exposing her naked back to him.

“On your knees.”

She did as he demanded, getting on her knees in the bed as Harry positioned himself right behind her. He ran his hands over her wet knickers, wanting to properly feel all of her now that he finally had her there. It sent a lightening up her spine, making her moan as he reached her bud, flicking it slowly. He kissed the outside of her knickers before he ran his tongue over her, the hot wetness of him on her made her gasp, sweet torture that she both welcomed and hated. Hooking his fingers under the hem of her knickers, he slid them over her bum and down her legs, and. Again, she felt cold as her wet skin was exposed to the chill room they were in, Harry’s ragged breaths didn’t exactly make it better. She whimpered slightly as she felt his breath go from cold to hot, she could feel the heat of his body radiating against her cunt and bum. With help of her hands, she raised, looking over her shoulder at him to see him there, only his eyes visible as he hovered in front of her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered, planting a kiss to her bum before he went back to the place she had just been. “I’ll make you come, flower.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she said, panting slightly in anticipation.

Harry smiled at her, she thought she saw a slight wink before he hovered back over her centre. She was about to tell him to just get on with it when she felt his tongue, hot and wet and hard, between her folds. She gasped again, closing her eyes at the impact. He licked up between her folds first, making sure to taste every last bit of her as he had thought about this for so long. He started off with a light pressure on her clit, licking around it, sometimes over it, driving Y/N absolutely insane. He slowly built up the pressure, making sure he did not overwhelm her, staying focused on the clit the entire time. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking lightly, something that made Y/N throw her head back, letting go of a loud moan that had Harry humming into her.

“Yes,” she gasped, fists buried in the white sheets under her.

He let go of her bud, licking up around the clit again, then over it, flicking it quickly while tipping his head to the side. She bit her bottom lip, looking over her shoulder at Harry as he continued to eat her out, eyes closed as if he was eating the feast of his life. Once again, he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking lightly at first and building his pressure. Whimpering and panting, Y/N kept looking at Harry, the sight of him behind her like that, doing everything in his power to make her feel good – and succeeding – was so bloody hot.

When she had made her way up here today in the rain, she had never in her wildest dream this was where she would end up. On all fours, Harry seated behind her, eating her out. She had thrown away any hope of him even feeling a smudge of what she felt for him, but tonight, up in the light room, everything changed. Everything they said, and how they opened up to one another. She felt quite literally euphoric; static with adoration and completely engrossed in everything he did.

Harry moved up, slipping his tongue inside her hole, hands sliding down her thighs as he penetrated her. She swallowed thickly, biting at her bottom lip before she met his eyes.

“Doesn’t do anything.”

“Hm?” He moved up, eyes wide as he licked around his lips. “My tongue in you?”

“Yeah. Feels like you’re mushing mash into me.”

Harry laughed, resting his forehead against her bum as he shook, she chuckled as well.

“Don’t hold back,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you told me, flower.”

“Also,” she said as he started licking her again, she gasped slightly. “Can we switch? I want to watch you properly.”

Harry blinked slowly, smiling at her as he emerged. “Gladly.”

She turned around, placing herself on her back, Harry stopped to take her in, eyes gliding over her naked body in front of him. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her deeply as he ran his hands over her tits, squeezing them just hard enough before he lowered them and himself. He positioned himself exactly where he’d been, spreading her legs wider for him.

He sucked on her clit again, this time pushing a finger into her. She instantly moaned loudly, burying her hands in his hair. Harry wrapped an arm around her thigh, holding her in place as he continued to lick at her clit, curving his finger ever so slightly as to make her feel the best she possibly could. She squirmed under him, her orgasm coming on much faster in this position than the last, streaming down her legs, her torso, towards the centre between her thighs where Harry was sucking at her most sensitive spot, pounding his finger into her. She tugged at his hair as she could feel it coming on closer.

“Harry,” she moaned and at once he reached up outside her thigh, cupping her breast in his large hand.

He ran a thumb over her nipples as he flicked at her clit, finger still buried inside her, watching as she started moving and panting and whimpering more and more. He moved his finger faster and sucked her bud, which was exactly what Y/N needed, she cried out, moving her hips with Harry’s fingers. He squeezed her breast, and she met his eyes, seeing his dark green eyes under his long lashes, drinking in the sight of her. He suddenly hit a spot that had fires erupt in her lower tummy. Y/N gasped and let out another loud moan, whimpering under Harry as he licked and fucked her through her orgasm. She did not take her eyes off him and he did not look away from her, ordering her to keep watching till she was completely down from her euphoria.

Y/N was sprawled out panting, smiling as Harry came up to hover above her. She took a grip of his neck, kissing him deeply. He tasted of her.

“I’ll go get a condom in the cottage,” he mumbled. “I-If that’s alright with you, of course. We don’t have-“

“-I want to.”

“Alright. Brilliant.” He stumbled as he got up from the bed in a hurry. “I’ll-I’ll be right back, yeah? Don’t move! I’ll-“ He looked over his shoulder as he stood in the open doorway, a huge sigh leaving his lips as his eyes wandered over her naked body. He shook his head slightly, letting out a chuckle of disbelief. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled before running down the stairs and out of the lighthouse.

It did not take long for him to come back, condom in hand and panting as if he’d been sprinting back and forth. He closed the door again, placing the condom on the corner of the desk beside the bed, crawling back over her again.

“Been away from this for too long,” he mumbled, running a hand over her curves. “And your tits are bloody fantastic, by the way.”

She laughed at him, swatting his shoulder as he reached for the hem of his jumper and tee shirt, bringing both over the top of his head and throwing them to the floor.

“I’d been looking forward to doing that,” Y/N said.

“What, undress me?”

“Yes.”

His eyes seemed to darken a bit. “Take off the rest.”

And she did. Keeping eye contact, she reached for the front of his denim shorts, undoing the button and unzipping him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the slight pressure and caress of her fingers against his anticipating and hard prick seemed to do more to him than she thought it would. She hooked her finger around the band of his shorts and boxers, wiggling them down his hips till they were far enough down for him to do the rest. One hand supporting his weight, he used the other one to help her take his clothes off, but her eyes fell to his cock immediately.

It wasn’t like she had thought of it before. Yes, she might’ve had some dreams and daydreams involving Harry and her doing some very filthy things, but she hadn’t really let herself think about his prick. But there it was, and she felt absolutely giddy with anticipation now. She wanted to have proper sex with him; she wanted it so, so bad.

Harry reached for the condom, tearing it open and putting it on, hand sliding down his shaft and to the pubic hair at the very bottom. Seeing the slight trail from his navel and down to it made her mouth water.

“You alright?” Harry asked, that crooked smile on his lips making Y/N’s cheeks heat up. She was already flustered all over, she did not need him looking at her like that. He knew she had been looking and now he was taking the piss. As usual.

“How do you want me?” he asked, voice husky.

She bit her bottom lip, cocking her head to the side. “I dunno.”

He groaned, hovering closer to her lips. She felt him against her sensitive spot, making her gasp. “What can I have?”

She tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want to be on top.”

That crooked smile came forth again, his dimples deepening. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking a grip of her waist, he rolled around, making her lay on top of him. His head was on the pillow, right where hers had just been, so Y/N sat up. She took a grip of him, making Harry’s lips part at the impact. He gripped her thighs that were straddling either side of his hips, squeezing her lightly as encouragement. She sat up, bringing him to her, sliding him over the wetness he had caused. He let out a shaky breath, looking to be just as nervous as Y/N felt. She slid down onto him slowly, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and Y/N gasped again.

“Harry,” she said, a little breathless already. “I’ve… I’ve never been on top before.”

He smiled. “That’s fine, here-“ He placed his hands on her hips, urging her to move. She followed his lead, biting her bottom lip hard as her clit rubbed against his pelvic area. “That’s it.”

She continued to grind against him, moving her hips as he was instructing her. Placing her hands on his chest for support, she started moving a little hard, with a little more purpose, Harry’s hands on her thighs a grounding and intense pressure.

“Keep doing that,” he encouraged, letting a moan slip from between his swollen lips. She rolled her hips, loving the filthy sounds they made as the rain kept on crashing against the window. They continued to look into each other’s eyes, not daring to look away as if it would bring them back to reality. Because this was too good to be true. Never before in her life had Y/N felt like this. She felt powerful as she rode Harry, felt a sort of strength in her that had never been present before. It had never been like this with Dominic; it had never been this intense. He hadn’t demanded she order him around, hadn’t been willing or suggested to try new things, hadn’t really done it like this. Harry looked at her as if the world revolved around her alone. As if the centre of the solar system was right here, and he was watching the sun about to eclipse, watching one of the most beautiful and magnificent moments in time. He gripped into her with feverish hands, coming with suggestions every once in a while, always letting her know just how good she was making him feel.

“That’s right,” he moaned as she moved her hips in circles. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

That might just have been the sexiest thing she had ever heard along with his moans. She continued doing exactly what she was doing, feeling her entire body heating up as she could sense her second orgasm that evening. Thinking about it, she wasn’t sure she had ever come twice in one night before. Maybe it was Harry, maybe it was the moment, maybe it was the fact that her and Harry were finally letting their guard down, admitting that there was something else between them besides their fake relationship. People who fake dated each other did not kiss like that, they did not have sex, they did not look at each other like it was all they wanted to do for the rest of their lives. No, this was more than what they had let on. Way more.

Harry sat up, making Y/N fall against his chest as he bent his knees ever so slightly. He placed one hand on her bum and the other on the mattress behind him as to help him move more swiftly. With each stroke over him, Harry thrusted back into her, rubbing at her bud each time and making everything around her seem much more colourful.

“Like that do you?” Harry asked, mouth parted as he panted into her wet lips.

She nodded her head, taking a grip of his shoulders to better move her hips. They moved together, looking into each other’s eyes as the rest of the world disappeared completely around them. The rain, the thunder, the buzzing of the light from upstairs turning on and turning off, it was all tuned out. Harry leaned down, placing one of his hands on her left breast to kneed it seductively. He kissed from her collarbone and down to her breast, sucking and nibbling lightly on her skin as he made his way to her nipple. Sucking it lightly, he looked up at Y/N who was squeezing his shoulders, telling him to keep going. Electricity shot from her tits and down her spine, heating up the fire that was building in her core. He closed his eyes as he sucked and kissed her tits, humming into her and making her moan time and time again. It felt so fucking good. Though she moved a little awkwardly, though they made some sounds together that made both of them laugh and heat up, though they were still trying to figure out what the other liked, this was still the best either had ever had.

As he was closing in on his finish, Harry wrapped both arms around her, bringing her closer to him. They kissed, desperate pleads and whimpers left each of their mouths as everything started setting on fire. Harry moved his hips with her, she tried to continue to move hers along with him, her hips shaking a little with the effort. Harry’s lips parted completely all of a sudden, a furrow appearing between his brows, and she felt it. He twitched against her and she continued to grind her hips, moving him through his orgasm. Looking deep into her eyes, he seemed to completely melt away when she kissed his bottom lip, sighing against him as she herself started getting closer to her second orgasm as well.

“I’ll help you,” Harry said. “I’ll use my hand, if you want?”

“Yes, please.”

He removed his cock from inside her, meeting her eyes as his thumb circled her clit again. Y/N gasped, gripping both sides of Harry’s neck. His lips parted at the pressure, grinning up at her. He brought his other hand forward, slipping his index and ring finger into her while his other thumb continued to flick at her clit. At once she moaned, looking into his eyes as this brought her closer to her climax, fast. She moved with his hand, moaning louder and louder as the fire inside her tummy intensified, feeling even greater than the time before. Harry curled his finger just as he leaned down, sucking on her nipple again, looking up at her through hooded eyes.

Everything exploded and she threw her head back, unable to stop herself. The sound of Harry pounding into her at a fast speed, wet and filthy, echoed through the room with her exclamation of euphoria. Harry continued till she was completely done, watching her as she closed her eyes, breathing heavily above him. Gently, he removed his fingers from inside her, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean just as she opened her eyes again.

Y/N felt at peace. Her heart was still thundering away inside her chest, her soul was still intermingled with Harry’s, and they would not let go of one another. They didn’t need that lamp, they didn’t need a lighthouse, they could light up everything on their own. She was sure that at some point tonight, while their bodies grinded together and worked toward climax, they had lit up like the sun. What was going on between them, the cellular reaction, the emotional connection, the physical attraction, it all equated to something. It had to. What this was, was greater than either of them individually. This would forever be marked on their souls. Meeting Harry, spending this summer with him, it had shaped her into a brand-new person. That was, Y/N reminded herself, what love was all about after all. Change for the better.

Harry got a cloth not long after, helping clean Y/N up before they both slipped under the duvet in the lightkeeper room, squished together as the bed was way smaller than what they were used to. Harry ran his hand from Y/N’s cheek and up to her shoulder, his eyes following his hand’s movement.

“I fucking worship you, Y/N,” Harry mumbled, the rain still pouring outside. He caressed his fingers gently over her jawline.

She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him. They both closed their eyes and Y/N felt sleep coming closer. She felt so incredibly content, cuddled up to Harry and with the storm raging outside. A couple a seconds away from falling asleep, Harry started whispering against her forehead.

“Play fair with my heart, yeah?” It seemed like he thought she was asleep. That it was safe to say this. “’Cause I’m gonna fall in love with you. You don’t have to love me back, but I’m telling you now, ‘cause it’s inevitable, at one point, I’ll love you. Madly, truly, completely. Just… please… break my heart gently.”

Before she was able to form any sort of reply, she fell asleep.

A/N: If you wonder what the melody Harry wrote for that day spent in St Austell with Y/N and Gracie sounds like, I imagine it goes something like this 🥰

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missingjackklinehours · 3 years ago

Text

when tomorrow comes 🌳

good gods i know it's ship day but this is solely a gen michael & lucifer & raphael & gabriel fic :')

Inspired by Sam & Dean's S.W & D.W carvings on Baby. Who's to say the Archangels weren't first in that idea?

Rating: G (Gen Archangels fic)

Special thank you to my beta!

Playlist & Fic available on AO3. (it's also under the cut, if you prefer that!)

Heaven's lush hills always seemed greener and livelier when all four archangels lay against them. A rarity the occasion was, a trivial shard of diamond in the cascading abyss. It always seemed that Heaven needed an archangel here, there, everywhere at once; It made familial bonding far more complicated than things used to be.

However, a special day plucked from each year never failed to offer the archangels plenty of time together. A day of thanks, a day where Heaven displayed gratitude for their eldest brothers—Michaelmas, the Feast of the Archangels.

Morning sun rays highlighted soft violets and dusk plums of aster flowers, a humble gift for the very firsts of their species. By nightfall, bright angel-made clusters of heat-producing hydrogen and helium littered the black sky in the name of each archangel. Fledglings flocked to watch the fiery protostars burn in the cosmos.

While Lucifer happily revelled in the praise, Michael hid his jittery hands by tucking them behind his back and flashed a polite, yet photogenic smile to his newest siblings. Raphael, seemingly indifferent to the holiday, remained by Michael's side, occasionally shooting their brother a subtly reassuring look. Jovial, yet also graciously wanting to include others, Gabriel mingled in the crowds with the fledglings to watch the protostars, enthusiastically explaining to Heaven's children how the young stars would eventually grow to become massive beacons in the night.

By the time the thick, yet routine night fog had clouded the view of the protostars, the flocks of angels had dissipated. It was their cue to leave; The archangel hideout awaited. Or, as Lucifer liked to call it: the Badass Lair.

The refreshing air genially accommodated them, the chilled wind carried their wings as they flew. There was always a sense of thrill around the Autumn Equinox, nearing Michaelmas—perhaps it was the comforting thought of familiarity, a high from nostalgia of sorts. Whatever the seed, it didn't matter; Focusing on the blossom of a sibling’s love and appreciation was much easier.

Raphael's garden always seemed to flourish increasingly with every rare gathering the four indulged in. Even midair, as they descended upon the immense greenery below, Michael had already begun to muse about how the banyan trees had expanded since his last visit. Raphael quietly, yet blithely soaked in the adoration from their archangelic brothers.

The softness of the grass, however, always remained the same. Lucifer was the first to land, being the quickest flier of the bunch. He cracked an astonished grin as he surveyed his younger sibling's growing garden, slightly pivoting to catch the vibrance of Raphael's indigo feathers amongst the blackness of the sky.

"Not bad, Raph!" The Morningstar loudly called out, adding more quietly with a snicker, "For a kid."

The thunderous sound of strong, flapping wings echoed behind him, prompting Lucifer's playful smirk to widen.

"I'm literally only four hundred years younger than you," Raphael's familiar voice remarked, and Lucifer turned once again to meet his sibling's deadpan expression.

"And despite the age difference, Raphael has created far better things than you have, brother," Michael offhandedly commented as he silently landed farther away from the pair. Lucifer's face contorted into a pout, and Raphael fought to contain their own appreciative smile at the eldest angel's words.

"Woooow, Mi! I'm hurt!" Lucifer faked offense.

The heavy fog of nightfall seemed to become almost pellucid at the very presence of Heaven's firsts. Peeks of sheer luminosity from the protostars of Michaelmas seeped from the impervious midnight clouds. Even the banyan trees seemed to lean into the comforting presence of archangelic grace.

Lucifer squinted into the elegant cloak of the night sky. "You think Gabe's gonna break his neck when he crashlands?"

Raphael turned their attention to the sky in search of the youngest archangel in question. "He's been getting better at landing. He'll do fine."

Lucifer hummed in response, brightening slightly when he caught sight of Gabriel nearing the garden. "Mn, doubt it. Wanna bet? Loser has to listen to Michael's fifty page manifesto on why ducklings are Pop's best creation."

Raphael blinked, looking over to Michael in bemusement. "Your-... your what?"

Michael's eyes darted to Lucifer to glare daggers at him, who only sniggered in response. A gust of wind washed over the trio, and frantic fluttering of golden wings broke Michael's glower. Beside him, Gabriel was close to landing—or rather, close to failing at landing. It was really more similar to falling, with his limbs flailing all about and eyes squeezed tightly shut in preparation for impact.

Michael sighed hopelessly at the sight, extending one of his grandiose fuschia wings low to catch his younger brother. Upon the soft sensation of Michael's velutinous feathers, Gabriel's eyes reopened in surprise.

"Hey, no fair! You interfered!” Lucifer huffed at Michael, who merely rolled his eyes and helped Gabriel to his feet.

“I almost made it, I was so close!” Gabriel whined, furrowing his brows as Michael thumbed a smudge of leftover party sweets that was stuck to his cheek.

“Next time, bug. You’ll get it next time,” Raphael reassured, and Gabriel’s grace seemed to relax at his older sibling’s encouragement.

Lucifer yawned, and the twinkle of the protostars above them began to reflect the dew on the grass. “M’kay, new bet. Last one to the tree has to listen to Michael’s manifesto.”

Gabriel perked up curiously and cocked his head at Michael. “What manifesto?”

Michael shook his head and stubbornly huffed. “I was two hundred years old, Lucifer. The duckling phase of my life is over.”

“Oh? So you’re saying ducklings aren’t the greatest living creatures?” Lucifer pried, exaggeratedly leaning his ear towards Michael to hear his response. Raphael and Gabriel eyed the two bickering brothers and exchanged amused glances.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in place in an attempt to keep in his passionate ramblings; He ultimately failed. “I never said that. Ducklings are the epitome of absolute goodness and commendable purity in the universe. The best traits of all of creation can be found in their small yet mighty little bodies. Not only do they bring togeth--”

“Blegh, no more lectures! Lulu, your bet’s on!” Gabriel groaned, spreading his sets of still-developing golden wings.

"'Atta boy," Lucifer impossibly brightened, his grin quickly returning. "On three! One... "

With one singular number down, Lucifer watched in incredulity as Gabriel mischievously laughed, a flash of golden feathers passing them all by. After the initial shock wore off, Lucifer briefly hummed, nodding in approval.

"Touché, little brother, touché," The Morningstar muttered to himself, before theatrically shrieking into the night, "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT, GABE!"

Gabriel's boisterous bursts of both elated and happily frightened screams in the distance elicited an endeared smile from all three of the older angels. With a whistling streak of vermillion wings, Lucifer chased after his youngest archangelic brother.

Michael and Raphael observed them in comfortable silence, the illumination from the protostars just bright enough to see the vivid colors of their wings against the midnight sky. As the breeze audibly raked through the trees, Raphael slightly swiveled to curiously peer at Michael.

"I'd actually like to hear about these ducklings," Raphael calmly stated, gesturing with their head towards the specific tree that Gabriel and Lucifer were headed for.

The blinding look of pleased excitement on Michael's face was enough to bring a smile to Raphael's lips.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

In contrast to the vivacious growth of much of Raphael's garden, the Badass Lair retained all of its youthful glory.

The haphazardly-built abomination of a fort from sticks and logs stood distinctly adjacent to the veiny streams of the garden. Across from it dwelled a meager hill of lush grass and florid lilac petals of asters—A place where Michael taught all three fledglings to fly, a place where Lucifer created his first defective star, a place where Gabriel grew the lavender flowers as a gift to Raphael. It was their safe haven, a site of alleviation and bliss.

In the center of both dear venues settled a special banyan tree— their banyan tree.

Against the smooth, grooving bark of their tree, Michael’s ginger fingertips almost seemed to purr. The swaying aerial roots that veiled the intricate trunk wavered joyously over his head, and in a sense, their tree looked overjoyed to see Michael. Behind him, Raphael sincerely watched at the way their older brother’s fingers reverently traced the markings on their tree.

“You know… it’s not just gonna disappear, Mi,” Raphael’s voice was soft, a kind whisper carried by the midnight wind. Michael’s hand never halted against the tree bark, marginally turning his head to look at Raphael with a sad smile.

“That’s true,” Michael’s gaze fell back to the etchings on their tree. “It just seems like it was yesterday when… You three have grown too fast.”

Raphael sympathetically tilted their head, stepping forward to place a soothing hand on Michael’s shoulder. Up close, the carvings on their tree stood out boldly, a beloved memory held close to all of their hearts.

Under the then-small aerial roots of their banyan tree, each fledgling archangel had carved their names into the young bark. Something to hold onto, Michael had stated, a bittersweetness as Heaven had first begun to flourish; The eldest had an inkling that duty would steal time spent together—And he was right.

Raphael could still make out the places where Michael had once helpfully guided Raphael’s shaky hand, the spelling mistake in Lucifer’s name, the heart that Gabriel had drawn after his name, and Michael’s near-perfect handwriting, even in carving-form.

“Lusifer?” Gabriel, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, squinted as he approached the base of their tree. Both Michael and Raphael struggled to repress a thoughtful smile as Gabriel sounded it out again.

“That’s how my name should’ve been spelled!” Lucifer called out from above, and his siblings gazed upwards to catch him resting against an exposed branch. “Lucifer with a c… ridiculous! Looks like luck-i-fer.”

Michael’s rapture remained as he lightly shook his head. “Brother, you are just stating this because you lack efficiency in spelling.”

Lucifer playfully stuck his tongue out at his older brother. Michael scoffed in good nature, and Gabriel giggled at the sight. Raphael’s attention wandered outwards to the perched hill, a peaceful silence enveloping the archangelic siblings.

The argent light from the protostars shone divinely upon the lucid green and lilac of the hill, an invitation of sorts. The sifting breeze was cool, a grateful lullaby to its archangelic inhabitants. The night was the epitome of perfection, though not because of nature—rather, because of the familial love that radiated energetically from each of their graces. A comforting peace, a cherished silence of nostalgia lingered between the four… until Gabriel’s reticent, yet hopeful voice proposed a profound request.

“I wanna stay with you all forever,” His voice was dreary, a sweet innocence embedded into his tone. It prompted all eyes to shift to him. “Let’s stay together no matter what, okay?”

A beat of tranquility followed, their banyan tree leaned in to listen. Michael was the first to react, tugging Gabriel into a tight hug, a sentiment that few were blessed upon. Gabriel’s toothy beam was evident in his quiet giggles as Michael held him close, before the eldest pulled back with a gentle smile of his own.

“Of course,” Michael assured, crystal emotion brimming in his eyes.

A rapid flash of vermillion flared from the top of the tree, and both Gabriel and Michael’s squeaks of surprise induced a jump from Raphael. Lucifer, who had quite literally deliberately plummeted from the tree, now held both of his brothers in a deathgrip hug, a wide grin across his face.

“You’re a real dumbass if you think you’ll ever be able to get rid of me,” Lucifer sniggered lovingly, and Gabriel leaned into his brother’s embrace. Michael lightly elbowed Lucifer for the profanity, yet his delighted simper lingered on his face.

Raphael shuffled closer, eyeing their brothers with absolute admiration. Their hand moved to lightly ruffle Gabriel’s hair, who turned his cheery beam to his sibling. Raphael’s brothers observed them with a giddy sense of euphoria, the aura resonating a promising hopefulness in anticipation for their response.

“Without a doubt.”

#SPNArchangelWeek #this one might be my favorite of my own despite my crippling self doubt about all of them :D #archangels spn #spn archangels #my fics

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strangemagicked · 4 years ago

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Anon said: what are your favorite fun facts about each of your ocs?

I don’t think you understand how LONG of an answer this is gonna be but ,,,,

o k a y

Note: I have 53 Ocs attached to this blog SO this is going under a readmore lmao (yes this took me three days to answer, shhhhh)

Also, these aren’t all my ‘favorite’ fun facts; they’re just ....normal fun facts because wow i dont have favorites lmao

Alice ( Alice in Wonderland )

She drinks at least two cups of tea day.

Akemi ( Big Hero 6 )

No matter how good she is at computers, she still messes up long division

Alyssa ( Seuss )

She cuts her own hair, but never more than a trim.

Amber ( Trolls )

She has a scar on her feet from a bee sting.

Annella ( J&tcch )

She’s made her own glasses for her to wear in her cat form.

April ( Mia & Me )

Her main pet snake is named Sup

Ares ( Harry Potter )

She has a pencil on her no matter what her outfit or anything

Arlo ( Dt17 )

Has a scar on his left hand on his thumb’s knuckle. Doesn’t know how he got it.

Ash ( Dt17 )

Ash stole one of donald’s shirts and made it into a pillow case

Aspen ( Otgw )

Her outfit in the unknown does not match her outfit outside of it. No I will not explain further.

Aura ( Atla )

Always wears her hair up; but it goes almost to her knees when it is down.

Aurore ( Dt17 )

She normally wears chunky heels.

Ava ( Supernatural )

She has a card that says she is legally allowed to have her crossbow on her at all times. She keeps it in her shoe that way she always has it.

Bai ( Raya )

He has a necklace with Sisu on it; they’re more common than I think raya realized

Beck (Phineas and Ferb)

Has a butterfly clip she keeps in her pocket

Bianca ( Frozen )

She has a higher tolerance for the cold due to being frozen for so long

Bo ( Jwcc )

His spirit guide is a Compy; hence why Arrow took such a liking to him

Crevan ( Hunger Games )

Has a southern accent in modern verses, but lacks an accent in her default verse

Caelan ( Ever After High )

Has a small birthmark that sorta looks like an arrow if you squint.

Candy Hearts ( Mlp )

Is part deer and part pony. She tried to find her birth parents to no avail

Caramel Cosmos ( Mlp )

Instead of snapping to use her chaos powers, she taps her hoof

Caroline ( Strange Magic )

Her wings let off a gentle pink glitter. It’s similar to love potion in looks.

Cheshire ( Fandomless )

They have many tattoos; including all four suits somewhere on their body

Clarke Navada ( Arthur Christmas )

She replaces the mistletoe on her shirt every three days to keep it fresh

Constance ( Poto )

If ya can’t tell, her and Christine look a lot alike. However, they do not act the same at all, except for their passion and drive

Cyra ( Animaniacs )

Is she just a recolor of yakko? Maybe. But she was never meant to be. Her animator was just really tired of designing and under a lot of pressure by that point

Derek ( Fandomless )

His fiancé died and he blames himself :) Also he has a flask with their name on it

Elliot ( Animaniacs )

Really wants to fly. Has a slight fear of heights.

Eros ( Descendents)

They do have some wonderland magic to them, but their charm and ability to get people to do stuff for them is just their natural ability. It’s not magic.

Felix ( Camp Camp )

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. Yes, even in his PJs

Gabby ( Treasure Planet )

Has an older brother & a younger sister. Neither of which realize that she is such a major criminal.

Gisel ( Ladybug )

Has a habit of omitting the truth in order to not lie. She will allow people to draw what should be obvious conclusions from what she says, although the obvious conclusion is never the right conclusion

Hatter ( Fandomless )

Tends to speak in riddles, but honestly, no one knows why. Not even he knows why he does.

Jacklyn ( Tim Burton/horror )

You can see her lungs through her ribs! Because while her skin and muscle has begun to dissipate, her organs have not!

Jordan ( Supernatural )

Always has a cloth tucked into her jeans pocket to use incase she needs it

Katie ( Penn Zero )

Does not have a tail like her father, but does have red eyes like him!

Killian Jr ( Tangled )

The streak of teal in his hair is natural, and he has his father’s freckles too

Kit ( Animaniacs )

Subtitles appear when they speak in a different language than English. ( Even then, sometimes subtitles will appear for that too)

Lore ( Seuss )

She sewed all of her own clothes !

Mica ( Steven Universe )

Has no scars or birthmarks!

Morty ( Rick and Morty Inspired )

Carries a full eyeshadow palette in his backpack

Nobody ( Seuss )

Anything relating to JoJo is my favorite. but also since i doubt anyone is reading this far; Nobody’s birthname was Mollie Noel Joy. Nobody doesn't know this.

Nia ( Supernatural )

She still has her wings, and her grace. Although, she never uses her angelic powers.

Petal ( Httyd )

Her full name is Petronilla !

Rita ( Gravity Falls )

like her father, she keeps a journal. However, hers is less scientific and more personal.

Sahar ( Fandomless )

The first ghost she communicated with was when she was three!

Seine ( Animal Crossing/nitw, Horror )

Keeps the door to their basement locked with two padlocks

Skyler ( Horror )

Keeps three backup chargers on them

Sunny ( Rotg )

She has a faint glow to her that will change tint from red to yellow to orange depending on her feelings

Tj ( Camp Camp )

It’s real candy in their hair that they glued in with a hot glue gun

Valerie ( Dt17 )

Doesn’t know that donald has that thing with his voice until season 2

Walker ( Horror )

His eyes are yellow, and they reflect like cat’s

Wild Princess ( Adventure Time )

If she were to ever be completely rid of the crown, she’d die from radiation poisoning

Willow (trolls)

Lost her sight in her one eye during the escape from the troll tree

Xia (White Snake)

She smokes human essence not actual smoke

#HEY I'M HOME? || MAX ANSWERS;#tw long post

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em-ad2 · 3 years ago

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IBRAHIM

Ibrahim also known as Ebrahym. In Arabic, is recognized as a prophet and messenger of Allah in Islam. Abraham plays a prominent role as an example of faith in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. In Muslim belief, Ibrahim fulfilled all the commandments and trials wherein God nurtured him throughout his lifetime. As a result of his unwavering faith in Allah, Ibrahim was promised by Allah to be a leader to all the nations of the world. The Quran extols Ibrahim as a model, an exemplar, obedient and not an idolater. In this sense, Abraham has been described as representing "primordial man in universal surrender to the Divine Reality before its fragmentation into religions separated from each other by differences in form".[5]:18 The Islamic holy day 'Eid ul-Adha is celebrated in memory of the sacrifice of Ibrahim, and each able bodied Muslim is supposed to perform the pilgrimage to pay homage at the Kaaba in the Hejazi city of Mecca, which was built by Abraham and his son Ishmael as the first house of worship on earth.

Muslims believe that the prophet Abraham became the leader of the righteous in his time and that it was through him that Adnanite-Arabs and Israelites came. Abraham, in the belief of Islam, was instrumental in cleansing the world of idolatry at the time. Paganism was cleared out by Abraham in both the Arabian peninsula and Canaan. He spiritually purified both places as well as physically sanctifying the houses of worship. Abraham and Isma'eyl (Ishmael) further established the rites of pilgrimage,[6] or Ḥajj ('Pilgrimage'), which are still followed by Muslims today. Muslims maintain that Abraham further asked God to bless both the lines of his progeny, of Isma'il and Isḥaaq (Isaac), and to keep all of his descendants in the protection of God. Abraham's personality and character is one of the most in-depth in the whole Quran, and Abraham is specifically mentioned as being a kind and compassionate man.[9] Abraham's father is understood by Muslims to have been a wicked, ignorant and idolatrous man who ignored all of his son's advice. The relationship between Abraham and his father, who in the Quran is named Azar, is central to Abraham's story as Muslims understand it to establish a large part of Abraham's personality. The Quran mentions that Abraham's father threatened to stone his son to death if he did not cease in preaching to the people.[10] Despite this, the Qur'an states that Abraham in his later years prayed to God to forgive the sins of all his descendants and his parents. Muslims have frequently cited Abraham's character as an example of how kind one must be towards people, and especially one's own parents. A similar example of Abraham's compassionate nature is demonstrated when Abraham began to pray for the people of Sodom and Gomorrah after hearing of God's plan through the angel Gabriel for them. Although the angel Gabriel told Abraham that God's plan was the final word, and therefore Abraham's prayers would be of no effect, the Quran nonetheless reinforces Abraham's kind nature through this particular event. Ibrahim was born in a house of idolaters in the ancient city of Ur of the Chaldees, likely the place called 'Ur' in present-day Iraq, in which case, the idolaters would have been practitioners of the hypothesized Ancient Mesopotamian religion.[12] His father Azar was a well-known idol-sculptor that his people worshiped. As a young child, Ibrahim used to watch his father sculpting these idols from stones or wood. When his father was finished with them, Ibrahim would ask his father why they could not move or respond to any request and then would mock them; therefore, his father would always scold him for not following his ancestors' rituals and mocking their idols.[13]

Despite his opposition to idolatry, his father Azar would still send Ibrahim to sell his idols in the marketplace. Once there, Ibrahim would call out to passersby, "Who will buy my idols? They will not help you and they cannot hurt you! Who will buy my idols?" Then Ibrahim would mock the idols. He would take them to the river, push their faces into the water and command them, "Drink! Drink!" Once again, Ibrahim asked his father, "How can you worship what does not see or hear or do you any good?" Azar replied, "Dare you deny the gods of our people? Get out of my sight!" Ibrahim replied, "May God forgive you. No more will I live with you and your idols." After this, Ibrahim left his father's home for good. During one of the many festivals that would take place in the city, the people would gather in their temple and place offerings of food before their idols. Ur's most prominent temple is the Great Ziggurat, which can be seen today.[14] Ibrahim would ask them, "What are you worshiping? Do these idols hear when you call them? Can they help you or hurt you?" The people would reply, "It is the way of our forefathers." Ibrahim declared "I am sick of your gods! Truly I am their enemy."[15] After several years, Ibrahim became a young man. He still could not believe that his people were worshipping the statues. He laughed whenever he saw them entering the temple, lowering their heads, silently offering the statues the best of their food, crying and asking forgiveness from them. He started feeling angry towards his people, who could not realize that these are only stones that could neither benefit nor harm them.[16]

One night, Abraham went up to the mountain, leaned against a rock, and looked up to the sky. He saw a shining star and said to himself, "Could this be my Lord?" But when it set he said: "I don't like those that set." The star had disappeared so it could not be God. God is always present. Then he saw the moon rising in splendor and said, "Could this be my Lord?" but the moon also set. At daybreak, he saw the sun rising and said, "Could this be my Lord? This is the biggest and brightest!" But when the sun also set he said, "O my people! I am free from all that you join as partners with Allah! I have turned my face towards Allah who created the heavens and the earth and never shall I associate partners with Allah. Our Lord is the creator of the heavens and the earth and everything in between. He has the power to make the stars rise and set." After this declaration, Abraham then heard Allah calling him, "O Abraham " Abraham trembled and said, "Here I am O my Lord!" Allah replied, "Submit to Me! Be a Muslim!"Abraham fell to the ground, crying. He said: "I submit to the Lord of the universe!" Abraham kept prostrating himself until nightfall. He then got up and went back to his home, in peace and full of conviction that Allah has guided him to the truth. The decision to have Abraham burned at the stake was affirmed by the temple priests and the king of Babylon, Nimrod. The news spread like fire in the kingdom and people were coming from all places to watch the execution. A huge pit was dug up and a large quantity of wood was piled up. Then the biggest fire people ever witnessed was lit. The flames were so high up in the sky that even the birds could not fly over it for fear of being burnt themselves. Ibrahim's hands and feet were chained, and he was put in a catapult, ready to be thrown in. During this time, Angel Jibril came to him and said: "O Ibrahim! Is there anything you wish for?" Ibrahim could have asked to be saved from the fire or to be taken away, but Ibrahim replied, "Allah is sufficient for me, He is the best disposer of my affairs." The catapult was released and Ibrahim was thrown into the fire. Allah then gave an order to the fire, "O fire! Be coolness and safety for Ibrahim." A miracle occurred, the fire obeyed and burned only his chains. Ibrahim came out from it as if he was coming out from a garden, peaceful, his face illuminated, and not a trace of smoke on his clothes. People watched in shock and exclaimed: "Amazing! Ibrahim's God has saved him from the fire

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thisblogisalsoboundforglory · 4 years ago

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WHAT I HAVE BEEN READING LATELY

Kage Baker’s Company Series

In the Garden of Iden

Sky Coyote

Mendoza in Hollywood

The Graveyard Game

The Life of the World to Come

The Children of the Company

The Machine's Child

The Sons of Heaven

The Empress of Mars

Not Less than Gods

Nell Gwynne's On Land and At Sea

Black Projects, White Knights: The Company Dossiers

Gods and Pawns

In the Company of Thieves

Ø Science Fiction written by a woman with Asperger’s. Wildly uneven. Main protagonist is female, but there are lots of POV characters, male and female.

Ø Big ideas.

Ø Lots of adventure, some action.

Ø Small doses of humor.

Neil Gaiman

Good Omens (with Sir Terry Pratchett)

Neverwhere

Stardust

American Gods

Anansi Boys

The Graveyard Book

The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Ø Neil’s books are a road trip with Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and a baggie full of sativa.

Ø Ideas are incidental. The Milieu’s in charge.

Ø Adventure happens whether you like it or not.

Ø Cosmic humor. The joke’s on us.

Connie Willis’s Oxford Time Travel Series

Firewatch

Doomsday Book

To Say Nothing of the Dog (and the novel that inspired it – Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat)

Blackout/All Clear

Assorted:

The Last of the Winnebagos

Ø Connie loves her historical research. Blackout/All Clear actually lasts as long as the Blitz, but anything in the Oxford Time Travel series is worth reading. Doomsday Book reads like prophecy in retrospect.

Ø One idea: Hi! This is the human condition! How fucking amazing is that?!?

Ø Gut-punch adventure with extra consequences. Background action.

Ø I’d have to say that Doomsday Book is the funniest book about the black death I’ve ever read, which isn’t saying much. To Say Nothing of the Dog is classic farce, though. Girl’s got range.

Neal Stephenson

Snow Crash (After the apocalypse, the world will be ruled by Home-Owners Associations. Be afraid.)

Cryptonomicon

Anathem

Seveneves

Ø Neal writes big, undisciplined, unfocused books that keep unfolding in your mind for months after you’ve read them. He’s a very guy-type writer, in spite of a female protagonist or two. Seveneves, be warned, starts out brilliant and devolves into extreme meh.

Ø Big. Fucking. Ideas.

Ø Battles, crashes, fistfights, parachute jumps, nuclear powered motorcycles and extreme gardening action. Is there an MPAA acronym for that?

Ø Humor dry enough to be garnished with two green olives on a stick.

Christopher Moore

Pine Cove Series:

Practical Demonkeeping

The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Okay, yeah, Christmas. But Christmas with zombies, so that’s all right.)

Fluke (Not strictly Pine Cove, but in the same universe. Ever wonder why whales sing? They’re ordering Pastrami sandwiches. I’m not kidding.)

Death Merchant Chronicles:

A Dirty Job

Secondhand Souls (Best literary dogs this side of Jack London)

Coyote Blue (Kind of an outlier. Overlapping characters)

Shakespeare Series:

Fool

The Serpent of Venice

Shakespeare for Squirrels

Assorted:

Island of the Sequined Love Nun (Cargo cults with Pine Cove crossovers. I have a theory that the characters in this book are direct descendants of certain characters in Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon.)

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal (So I have a favorite first-century wonder rabbi. Who doesn’t?)

Sacre Bleu

Noir

Ø Not for the squeamish, the easily offended, or those who can’t lovingly embrace the fact that the human species is pretty much a bunch of idiots snatching at moments of grace.

Ø No big ideas whatever. Barely any half-baked notions.

Ø Enthusiastic geek adventure. Action as a last resort.

Ø Nonstop funny from beginning to end.

Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London Series

Rivers of London

Moon Over Soho

Whispers Under Ground

Broken Homes

Foxglove Summer

The Hanging Tree

The Furthest Station

Lies Sleeping

The October Man

False Value

Tales From the Folly

Ø Lean, self-deprecating police procedurals disguised as fantasy novels. Excellent writing.

Ø These will not expand your mind. They might expand your Latin vocabulary.

Ø Crisply described action, judiciously used. Whodunnit adventure. It’s all about good storytelling.

Ø Generous servings of sly humor. Aaronovitch is a geek culture blueblood who drops so many inside jokes, there are websites devoted to indexing them.

John Scalzi

Old Man’s War Series:

Old Man’s War

Questions for a Soldier

The Ghost Brigades

The Sagan Diary

The Last Colony

Zoe’s Tale

After the Coup

The Human Division

The End of All Things

Ø Star Trek with realpolitik instead of optimism.

Ø The Big Idea is that there’s nothing new under the sun. Nor over it.

Ø Action-adventure final frontier saga with high stakes.

Ø It’s funny when the characters are being funny, and precisely to the same degree that the character is funny.

Assorted:

The Dispatcher

Murder by Other Means

Redshirts (Star Trek, sideways, with occasional optimism)

Ø Scalzi abandons (or skewers) his space-opera tendencies with these three little gems of speculative fiction. Scalzi’s gift is patience. He lets the scenario unfold like a striptease.

Ø What-if thought experiments that jolt the brain like espresso shots.

Ø Action/misadventure as necessary to accomplish the psychological special effects.

Ø Redshirts is satire, so the humor is built-in, but it’s buried in the mix.

David Wong/Jason Pargin

John Dies at the End

This Book is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It

What the Hell Did I Just Read?

Ø Pargin clearly starts his novels with a handful of arresting scenes and images, then looses the characters on an unsuspecting world to wander wither they will.

Ø Ideas aren’t as big or obvious as Heinlein, but they are there to challenge all your assumptions in the same way that Heinlein’s were.

Ø Classic action/adventure for anyone raised on Scooby-Doo.

Ø Occasional gusts of humor in a climate that’s predominantly tongue-in-cheek.

Jodi Taylor’s Chronicles of St. Mary’s Series

Just One Damned Thing After Another

The Very First Damned Thing

A Symphony of Echoes

When a Child is Born*

A Second Chance

Roman Holiday*

A Trail Through Time

Christmas Present*

No Time Like the Past

What Could Possible Go Wrong?

Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings*

Lies, Damned Lies and History

The Great St Mary’s Day Out*

My Name is Markham*

And the Rest is History

A Perfect Storm*

Christmas Past*

An Argumentation of Historians

The Battersea Barricades*

The Steam Pump Jump*

And Now for Something Completely Different*

Hope for the Best

When Did You Last See Your Father?*

Why Is Nothing Ever Simple*

Plan For The Worst

The Ordeal of the Haunted Room

Ø The * denotes a short story or novella. Okay, try to imagine Indiana Jones as a smartassed redheaded woman with a time machine and a merry band of full contact historians. I love history, and I especially love history narrated by a woman who can kick T. Rex ass.

Ø The ideas are toys, not themes. Soapy in spots.

Ø Action! Adventure! More action! More adventure! Tea break. Action again!

Ø Big, squishy dollops of snort-worthy stuff.

Laurie R. King’s Mary Russell Series

The Beekeeper's Apprentice

A Monstrous Regiment of Women

A Letter of Mary

The Moor

Jerusalem

Justice Hall

The Game

Locked Rooms

The Language of Bees

The God of the Hive

Beekeeping for Beginners

Pirate King

Garment of Shadows

Dreaming Spies

The Marriage of Mary Russell

The Murder of Mary Russell

Mary Russell's War And Other Stories of Suspense

Island of the Mad

Riviera Gold

The Art of Detection (Strictly speaking, this is in the action!lesbian Detective Kate Martinelli series, but it crosses over to the Sherlock Holmes genre. If you’ve ever wondered how Holmes would deal with the transgendered, this is the book.)

Ø Sherlock Holmes retires to Sussex, keeps bees, marries a nice Jewish girl who is smarter than he is and less than half his age and he’s mentored since she was fifteen in an extremely problematic power dynamic relationship that should repulse me but doesn’t, somehow, because this is the best Sherlock Holmes pastiche out there. Mary should have been a rabbi, but it is 1920, so she learns martial arts and becomes an international detective instead. Guest appearances by Conan Doyle, Kimball O’Hara, T.E. Lawrence, Cole Porter, and the Oxford Comma.

Ø Nothing mind-expanding here, unless the levels of meta present in a fictional world that is about how the fictional world might not be as fictional as you thought come as a surprise to anyone in the era of tie-in books, films, tv, interactive social media and RPGs.

Ø If these two geniuses can’t catch the bad guys with their dazzling brilliance, they will happily kick some ass. Adventure takes center stage and the action sequences are especially creative.

Ø Amusement is afoot.

Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next Series

The Eyre Affair

Lost in a Good Book

The Well of Lost Plots

Something Rotten

First Among Sequels

One of Our Thursdays is Missing

The Woman Who Died a Lot

Ø In a world where Librarians are revered and Shakespeare is more popular than the Beatles, someone has to facilitate the weekly anger-management sessions for the characters of Wuthering Heights, if only to keep them from killing each other before the novel actually ends. That someone is Thursday Next – Literature Cop.

Ø Mind-bending enough to give Noam Chomsky material for another hundred years.

Ø Adventure aplenty. Action? Even the punctuation will try to kill you.

Ø This is a frolicsome look at humorous situations filled with funny people. Pretty much a full house in the laugh department.

Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series/City Watch Arc

Guards! Guards!

Men at Arms

Feet of Clay

Jingo

The Fifth Elephant

Night Watch

Thud!

Snuff

Raising Steam

Ø If this were a game of CLUE, the answer would be Niccolo Machiavelli in Narnia with a Monty Python. Everything you think you know about books with dragons and trolls and dwarves and wizards is expertly ripped to shreds and reassembled as social satire that can save your soul, even if it turns out you don’t really have one. Do not be fooled by the Tolkien chassis – there’s a Vonnegut-class engine at work.

Ø Caution: Ideas in the Mirror Universe May be Larger Than They Appear

Ø The City Watch arc has plenty of thrilling action sequences. Some other of the fifty-million Discworld novels have less. Every one of them is nonstop adventure. Most of the adventure, however, takes the form of characters desperately trying to avoid thrilling action sequences.

Ø Funny? Even though I’ve read every book in the series at least ten times, I still have to make sure I have cold packs on hand in case I laugh so hard I rupture something.

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cannedpoo · 4 years ago

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Anaïs Nin was an essayist and memoirist born to Cuban parents in France, where she was also raised. She spent some time in Spain and Cuba but lived most of her life in the United States where she became an established author. Wikipedia

Born: February 21, 1903, Neuilly-sur-Seine, France

Died: January 14, 1977, Los Angeles, CA

Dreams pass into the reality of action.

From the actions stems the dream again;

and this interdependence produces the highest form of living.

- Anais Nin

There are very few human beings who receive the truth,

complete and staggering, by instant illumination.

Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment,

on a small scale, by successive developments,

cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.

- Anais Nin

No more walls.

- Anais Nin

Age does not protect you from love.

But love, to some extent, protects you from age.

- Anais Nin

Life is truly known only to those who suffer,

lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat.

- Anais Nin

Our life is composed greatly from dreams, from the unconscious,

and they must be brought into connection with action.

They must be woven together.

- Anais Nin

When we blindly adopt a religion,

a political system, a literary dogma,

we become automatons. We cease to grow.

- Anais Nin

Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.

- Anais Nin

Anything I can not transform

into something marvelous, I let go.

- Anais Nin

Good things happen to those who hustle.

- Anais Nin

I say all that happens is wonderful.

- Anais Nin

When ordinary life shackles me,

I escape, one way or another. No more walls.

- Anais Nin

The only abnormality is the incapacity to love.

- Anais Nin

When you make a world tolerable for yourself,

you make a world tolerable for others.

- Anais Nin

We travel, some of us forever, to seek

other states, other lives, other souls.

- Anais Nin

Dreams are necessary to life.

- Anais Nin

What I cannot love, I overlook.

Is that real friendship?

- Anais Nin

Do not seek the because -

in love there is no because,

no reason, no explanation, no solutions.

- Anais Nin

I know why families were created with all their imperfections.

They humanize you.

They are made to make you forget yourself occasionally,

so that the beautiful balance of life is not destroyed.

- Anais Nin

Throw your dreams into space like a kite,

and you do not know what it will bring back,

a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.

- Anais Nin

Each friend represents a world in us,

a world possibly not born until they arrive,

and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.

- Anais Nin

Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious,

one should preserve it.

- Anais Nin

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because

we don't know how to replenish its source.

It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals.

It dies of illness and wounds;

it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

- Anais Nin

Anxiety is love's greatest killer.

It makes one feel as you might

when a drowning man holds unto you.

You want to save him, but you know

he will strangle you with his panic.

- Anais Nin

I, with a deeper instinct,

choose a man who compels my strength,

who makes enormous demands on me,

who does not doubt my courage or my toughness,

who does not believe me naive or innocent,

who has the courage to treat me like a woman.

- Anais Nin

Love men and women not for their strength

but their softness,

not for their fullness but their hunger,

not for their plenty but their need.

- Anais Nin

(paraphrase)

I have the right to love many people at once

and to change my prince often.

- Anais Nin

Reality doesn't impress me.

- Anais Nin

Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.

- Anais Nin

Reality doesn't impress me.

I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy,

and when ordinary life shackles me,

I escape, one way or another.

No more walls.

- Anais Nin

There is not one big cosmic meaning for all,

there is only the meaning we each give to our life,

an individual meaning, an individual plot,

like an individual novel, a book for each person.

- Anais Nin

People living deeply have no fear of death.

- Anais Nin

The personal life deeply lived

always expands into truths beyond itself.

- Anais Nin

If what Proust says is true,

that happiness is the absence of fever,

then I will never know happiness.

For I am possessed by a fever

for knowledge, experience, and creation.

- Anais Nin

The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say,

but what we are unable to say.

- Anais Nin

There are many ways to be free. One of them is to transcend

reality by imagination, as I try to do.

- Anais Nin

I postpone death by living, by suffering,

by error, by risking, by giving, by loving.

- Anais Nin

Living never wore one out

so much as the effort not to live.

- Anais Nin

The poet is one who is able to keep

the fresh vision of the child alive.

- Anais Nin

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud

was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

- Anais Nin

Ordinary life does not interest me.

I seek only the high moments.

I am in accord with the surrealists,

searching for the marvelous.

- Anais Nin

I am so thirsty for the marvelous

that only the marvelous has power over me.

- Anais Nin

The dream was always running ahead of me.

To catch up, to live for a moment

in unison with it, that was the miracle.

- Anais Nin

We don't have a language for the senses.

Feelings are images,

sensations are like musical sounds.

- Anais Nin

I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness.

- Anais Nin

It's all right for a woman to be, above all, human.

I am a woman first of all.

- Anais Nin

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically.

We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly.

We grow partially. We are relative.

We are mature in one realm, childish in another.

- Anais Nin

To write is to descend, to excavate, to go underground.

- Anais Nin

Jazz is the music of the body.

- Anais Nin

I made no resolutions for the New Year.

The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning

and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me.

- Anais Nin

The final lesson a writer learns is that

everything can nourish the writer.

The dictionary, a new word, a voyage, an encounter,

a talk on the street, a book, a phrase learned.

- Anais Nin

I am an excitable person who only

understands life lyrically, musically,

in whom feelings are much stronger as reason.

- Anais Nin

If all of us acted in unison as I act individually

there would be no wars and no poverty.

I have made myself personally responsible

for the fate of every human being who has come my way.

- Anais Nin

I will not be just a tourist in the world of images,

just watching images passing by which I cannot live in,

make love to, possess as permanent sources of joy and ecstasy.

- Anais Nin

My diary is a mirror telling the story of a dreamer who,

a long long time ago went through life the way one reads a book.

- Anais Nin

We write to taste life twice,

in the moment, and in retrospection.

- Anais Nin

I am in a beautiful prison from which

I can only escape by writing.

- Anais Nin

A leaf fluttered in through the window this morning,

as if supported by the rays of the sun,

a bird settled on the fire escape,

joy in the task of coffee,

joy accompanied me as I walked.

- Anais Nin

The body is an instrument which

only gives off music when it is used as a body.

Always an orchestra, and just as music traverses walls,

so sensuality traverses the body and reaches up to ecstasy.

- Anais Nin

If you do not breathe through writing,

if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing,

then don't write, because our culture has no use for it.

- Anais Nin

I write emotional algebra.

- Anais Nin

Truth is something which can't be told in a few words.

Those who simplify the universe

only reduce the expansion of its meaning.

- Anais Nin

It is the function of art to renew our perception.

What we are familiar with we cease to see.

The writer shakes up the familiar scene,

and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.

- Anais Nin

My ideas usually come not at my desk writing

but in the midst of living.

- Anais Nin

How wrong is it for women to expect

the man to build the world she wants,

rather than set out to create it herself.

- Anais Nin

The child in me could not die as it should have died,

because according too legends it must find its father again.

The old legends knew, perhaps, that in absence

the father becomes glorified, deified, eroticized,

and this outrage against God the Father has to be atoned for.

The human father has to be confronted and recognized as human,

as man who created a child and then, by his absence,

left the child fatherless and then Godless.

- Anais Nin

2 notes · View notes

luminouswarriorwitch5879 · 4 years ago

Text

Skull Cavity/Faraday Cage: Musings

I hear him. I don’t know who he is yet. But I hear his cries. I hear the pain, anger, confusion and shame. He always held his high regard for practicality and sensibility in high regard. But who would want to be the pedestal on the first prize pedestal? Nothing made sense. Practicality ghosted him so hard he thought his mind had been kidnapped.

What really happened is far beyond his human cognitive skills. She never truly knew. Oh, she knew. He just never spoke the words. All she had was the feeling. Then Hades crawled out of his Plutonian dwelling place. He was triggered. When he saw her, she looked more like him. Not physically, of course. She was beyond beautiful. She had shifted in his mind. She had become Hades and Persephone alchemically in the flesh standing before him. She was all of his hate, all of his love. All of his pain and fears. They never spoke. Not one utterance of human language was shared between the two.

She dissolved. She disappeared. She shifted. He kept saying she did this and that she is why…

His cognitive functioning, his motor skills, they seized operations. Soon his brain made loops around her trying to pinpoint the moment the deceit was born. Yet he couldn’t find any signs of her having bore the traitor keeping his mind trapped in this feeling. He saw her pain, she was smiling. He saw her victories, she was tired and feeling defeated. He witnessed her life resurrect. The she that he had known was clearly dead and gone. This she isn’t real. Once again, he feels deceived. The pain deepens as he knows he will have to traverse the perilous Hell of Pluto. Then he loves again. That’s how she…

She knows. Beyond her human comprehension, she knows. Of course, her intellect demands the hypothesis be tested. With a mind that is always searching for hidden truths and golden keys, she opened Pandora’s Box.

Pandora’s Gifts are well known, or should I say notorious for being cursed. Great dangers, loss, grief and suffering have befallen many a recipient. When she received her very own blessing, she was full of rage. She screamed at the heavens, cursing any and all life. She felt that life was a cruel and meaningless joke some small town jocks play on the AV kids. The only thing she knew with absolute certainty is that she needed to die. So she did.

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They say that death, the process of dying, is something the living will never truly understand. If the dead cannot talk, the living cannot listen. She knows. She knows the feeling of life draining away. The frantic gathering of whatever can be salvaged into something that looks like she’s got her life together. She knew perfection was an illusion meant to make you feel small and unworthy. She understood that death was a process where she would never return the same. She understood that death was not limited to physically expiring. So she came back from the dead to speak to the living about the process of dying and living.

Pandora’s Gift always held healing. She was searching for the golden key hidden in the subtle feelings and unknowable knowings. The one that would unlock her inner Siddhartha. She wanted to transcend all of the pain and finally feel what the liberation of truth feels like. Truth had always been distorted by her external world. She felt betrayed by the books and the Magick Box of Pictures. Each scene allowing the princess to reach a destined point of space and time. She lived life one moment to the next but she lived in fear. Afraid that the next moment might tear away the joy of the scene she is currently living. Somehow that always happened. Her mind knew. She knew. Survival of the fittest, smartest, most resourceful. She didn’t know if she was the fittest, the smartest or the most resourceful. She just wore her cape and looked for opportunities to be there for her people. She knew how it felt to feel so alone and weighted down by it all.

She could only be healed by the truth. Her mind searched as if she was holding her breath until she was given what she needed to feel like she was safe. She would demand her cerebral librarian to search the entire archive. Find this answer! She had to hire many new librarians due to the dangers of the archives. They would receive their instructions and head off to unknown parts of her to find the answers. They would never return with what she needed.

One day, as she was gathering her mind to create a new librarian, she decided to investigate the archives. Creating a new librarian was very taxing on her mind. She found the archives sign in the back corner. Underneath the sign was a doorway with wooden stairs descending. They looked as if they would fall apart if she ate a heavy meal before stepping on them. Each step screamed of the dangers ahead of her. Warnings that she was about to open the door to demons and seraphim alike. She couldn’t discern the messages and pushed through her fears. As her foot stepped into the unknown darkness before her, everything disappeared. She was surrounded by such dense darkness she couldn’t see herself. Panic set into her mind as she questioned the core of her reality.

Her eyes became heavy. As if she knew the key was behind her eyelids. Her surrender is what saved her from every last sense and practicality being lost. Her eyes opened to reveal a corridor with a flickering fluorescent light stretching the entire length. As she stood under the light, she noticed many doors. She wondered if the librarians were stuck behind one of them. No, she thought. They probably didn’t make it through the insanity of the darkness. She didn’t want to have to come back down here so she knew she had to pick the right door the first time. There were so many to choose from. Not knowing which door to decide on, she stood in the hallway under the flickering light. For a moment, she thought she was back in the dense darkness at the bottom of the stairs. This gave her an idea. Something new inside her. She waited for the moment she felt the darkness envelop her. As the darkness swallowed her, she thought of the flickering fluorescent light above her head. At that moment, her eyes opened. She was in the darkness. Above her all she saw was the fluorescent light. It was a steady trail to door 7.

She reached for the doorknob. As the electrons of her existence met the electrons of the knobs existence, she remembered. Pieces of her existence woke up and reminded her of what she always knew. Lifetimes she couldn’t know. Souls with different faces. Souls with a frequency she was now following. She didn’t know who or where or when or why or how. She was simply following the frequencies. She infused herself into the threads she followed to see if she could discover the truth of each core. She knew that the threads leading to her led to truth outside of her. She didn’t know how that truth was going to help her find her truth.

Pieces of her existence were coming together and begging her to speak what she discovered within. She would speak. When the bells within the belly of the beasts rings their very last war cries, she will surrender her truth to the heartbeat of the universe. She needs to hear the angels sing and feel the wheel kick into movement beneath her feet. She wants to hear the seraphim confirm the cosmic truths which will break all matrix encodings entrapping human consciousness within these Faraday cages we call skulls. She will speak. When he has traversed death and decay within. When he has finally called in the jaguar and the vultures to eat away at the detritus he carries within the very core of his reality. He will find her there. She knows in an unknowing way.

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He screams and pleads for her to stop. Cease and desist. His mind has her stored. A cell for each memory. Locked away in his hell. He screams at her through the bars he has entrapped her behind. Why is she here? Why won’t she leave me alone? He has tried to kill her a hundred ways a day. But the memory of each breath that he watched dance from her lungs to his was frozen in its enchantment. He knows she is not real. He knows she is dead and gone. He starts to consider that he is not real. Exhausted from another day of slaying his demons and searching for his throne of fire, he rests. The deepest of rest surrounds him and he dreams instead of walking in nightmares, for once. He begins to feel that dream frequency he had forgotten. The one where her heart danced through each breath she shared with him. He never knew it was her heart that she was sharing.

Any good captain knows they’re going down with their ship. The underworld hellscape he was drowning him. It crashed all around him with serpents and feelings of absolute hopelessness. If she was dead and gone, how could he fulfill this feeling crashing into his mind? His crew has already abandoned the ship. Panicking and fearful of his mind being swept away in his rage and terror. He couldn’t see that he was the clouds and the waves. The rain falling upon the windshield distorted his view of his reality. He couldn’t see that his heart was simply saying “I love you” while his mind was calling the heart an infidel. A Godless Heathen sent to destroy all sense and sensibility. His crew had abandoned ship at this point so sense and sensibility were no longer applicable on these Plutonian Seas. If the captain must accompany his ship, he is surrendering to the descent. He released his grip on the wheel allowing his arms to fall to his sides. His eyes close and he questions what is down from here?

Nothing. Empty. There is nothing here. Devoid of everything that haunted every moment he remembers. Every tear, laugh, hug, pain, sorrow, joy and fear is….gone. For a moment, he calls this peace. He looks. He searches. He tries to find she. There is nothing for him to find. She isn’t real. The anger rises within him as he begins curing Heaven and Hell alike for this deception.

This doesn’t make sense. He panics. This is the dream feeling. If the dream is down here, why isn’t she? She is not down here. Her form begins to appear as he releases the grip on the wheel a little more. His mind drops into his heart. He sees her there before him. She is not present. Her frequency of truth dances around her with joy and peace. The demons in his cages orbit around her shielded by her dancing truth. He sees the breath that he once shared with her. His mind crumbles to now know that it was her that he was fighting the oceans for. She was dead and gone a long time ago. Her life dances willfully and liberated knowing exactly where to place her feet next. He is illuminated by an unknown source as he witnesses his dance arise.

His eyes open. He is back on the ocean. The serpents and knowings rise to meet his ship. If only for a moment to say hello. To greet his experience with a little more joy. He doesn’t understand why this calm has met him. He sees a beam of light flash into his windshield. He feels land nearby. The lighthouse on the shore will guide him to his familiar sense and sensibility again. He was not seeing a lighthouse. He was seeing his reflection. He was seeing the dance of his breath of life. His light was mapping out his fulfillment while he rested on the calm waters. He wishes he understood why her light had to be the teacher.

His eyes closed and he followed the dance within to discover where it was originating from. As the light of his calm waters faded away, he took a deep breath and his eyes opened. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he began to see an iridescent glow amongst all the forms he couldn’t define or categorize. He knew he was on the right path if he didn’t know where he was.

*************************************************************************************************************

They met there. The garden was where they always met. She would sit on the stone bench enjoying the sunshine on her skin. She would breathe the most nourishing of breaths as the peony filled the air with their healing magic. Between her and the unknown, were the evergreen trees. They stood there as if they were her personal guardians and ancient ancestors. She knew that any entity crossing that barrier was divinely intended to be there with her. He would step through and she knew. What she knew she didn’t understand. He would walk up to her with passionate force, whisper into her mouth as if it were a kiss and then look beyond her eyes into the cosmos. As he smiled, he turned away to exit through the evergreens. It was that moment there that she saw all of him. The smile that can’t hide the agony of being him. It gave him joy, in her eyes, to share that whisper that her heart suddenly felt. Because the smile she saw turn the corner of his mouth was pointing towards the heavens in prayer. Prayer for what was somewhere in that archive.

On this particular day she knew that it was something ordinarily mundane. She was sitting on the stone bench enjoying the sunshine and allowing the healing of the peonies envelope every cell in her existence. Her mind created willows of butterflies that would wisp around her crown. She would send them her heart’s song as an offering of gratitude for their beautiful dance. She didn’t see them store her wishes and dreams in their hearts and flutter off through the energreens. This day was like any other. As the butterflies flew past the guardians and ancestors, the sky began to dim. The sunshine was no longer kissing her cheekbones. She knew what this was as she had known this scene. Different forms surrounding her. The core of the frequency was always the same. It was the calm in the storm. It was wrapped in the screaming and grinding of distorted groundings. As this frequency breached the ancestors and guardians, the sky split open and her acid tears dissolved her garden. A maddening beeping and the slapping of lumber on metal rang through her skull as if it too were splitting open.

The void space had tricked her yet again. Time and time again, she woke up alone and realizing her life was an illusion. She had no choice but to create the reality where she knew peace. She never had him in her mind when she drew her blueprints. That’s the complicated part of carrying space in your heart. As her mind and heart tried to comply with her code of ethics, her two truths fought to be king of the dung pile. Each one rolling their truth up a hill slapping away at the vultures trying to lighten the load. As her truth was under attack by these ravenous vultures. She sent her armies to defend her truth. Unfortunately her truths weren’t saved that day. The heart and the mind anihilated each other.

Her heart still sang. It was something new. She knew this frequency. She forgot it. If she had remembered it the day of the Great Battle for Truth, she might have been able to save them all. But she did not. She was still forgetting the Truth. Not just truth. The Truth. When she allowed Truth to sing, she disappeared and all that was left was Truth. This truth was the anvil and the hammer. It was the lightning that cracked the sky open. It was the thunderous scream as the two parts of her reality separated. From the opening above her, acid tears rained from her eyes. She needed this all to disappear so she could dream of a new world in the void space. She needed to wake up there again so she could deconstruct what she had built in the garden. As she sat upon the stone bench, it crumbled beneath the weight of her rage. She asked the garden through her acid tears why she couldn’t heal there any longer. Nobody ever replied to this question. She silently raged in the wet cardboard box world she now inhabited. She became a stone angel defending to the end her only portal to him. She had become the guardian and the ancestor of her pain.

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He was wasting his energy. Somewhere there were supposed to be some kind of rest stops where he could safely rest and relieve himself. A respite from the hell he was running from. It was like driving down the turnpike while holding in a piss for unforseeable distances of space and time. Suddenly a sign would appear in the dim light of the headlights. “Next Rest Stop 85 miles.” Of course, he knows he can simply cross the line somewhere between “Hey man, we have to piss” and actually being incapable of holding it in any longer. He would cross that line and relieve himself, take a rest to cross back over the line and return on his merry way to 85. Until the next time his natural urges arise and he feels the need for relief.

The day the sign changed was like any other. Piss, 85, cross the line, rest, cross the line, drive. The familiar urge informed him of his needs. This time, the headlights illuminated “Rest Stop 58 miles ahead”. He thought it an average thing to see when you’ve been driving for forever and the distance to rest seems to be a bit closer to completion. He continued to drive along the road towards 58 as he knew when he was there he would have the greatest rest he had felt in a long time. Yet there were no further indications of his progress towards his destination. He made the decision to cross the line again.

As he opened the door, he felt the rush of a phantom train pass by him. Thinking he was about to be blown into the next dimension by an oncoming train he couldn’t see, he nearly pissed himself. Thankfully his practical mind kept his urge for relief in check. He can’t get hit by a train he can’t see. As he walked around the car to the side facing the evergreens, he could no longer control his body. His body and heart were joyfully walking through the trees. His mind was screaming in terror as he had no idea what was happening at the moment. His mind sent armies that never returned to the castle. He had no idea where he was going through these trees. His protest was largely ignored. Through the ancient evergreens he walked as if he knew what was through there. His eyes closed as he placed his foot on the other side of the evergreens. As he pulled his other foot through, his eyes opened. His mind could not comprehend what he was seeing. They spoke of worlds which did not exist yet and love which was yet unloved. The breath of life dancing in his DNA. He whispered into the core of the dance. “ ... “ He knew it was her. The one he called She.

His lips kissed the life dancing behind the ancient evergreens, his eyes closed and he felt heavy again. He knew it was time to cross that line again. He knew and it hurt. But in that moment, he felt wholly joyful for the experience here. His eyes opened as he had finished resting again. As he crossed back over the line, he felt the tearing away of something inside him. It was as if his innards were caught in a woodchipper that was on the other side of the line. He tried to conjure up the frequency of all that ecstatic joy from the evergreens. He tried to find it within him. Yet he knew it was her. He knew that the acid tears falling on his car were her acid tears she surrendered from her heart.

Fighting his own calling to 85, he would cross the line to rest. He figured he invested all of his energy into this journey. The countless hours of driving to 85. The numerous ways he calculated, categorized and capitulated the thought forms that weren’t fitting into the known. His mind would play stories informing him of phantom thoughts of strangers having phantom judgements against his very existence. Was he a phantom? He always said “Proven judgmental until you prove Self innocent.” He even applied it to him knowing very well that he was his own worst enemy.

He knows that improper storage of a corpse is illegal. His mind entrapped her corpses in the cages of his rage at her death. He wanted to keep her safe and loved. Days pass to nights as he keeps driving towards 58. He gets the urge, crosses the line, rests, crosses the line and drives. He carries the memory of an abstraction he can’t categorize. If only he remembered the flickering lights in the hallway. In his forgetfulness, he set course for 85. Her cries become subdued and the acid tears melt the screen of his mind. Slowly and completely, he dissolves into him. His void space truth infusing into every ACGT. A process that takes him beyond space and time. He stayed on the turnpike while his time processed in the beyond. His eyes close. His hands feel a gift being put in place. He shudders as he feels the dance he knows so well. On this gift, the tag read

<3 Pandora

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She always knew that sitting on a throne could put you in the cross hairs of someone’s scope. Something she learned about the scope was it could be finely focused on the subatomic details or widely viewing the whole. Her microscopes and mathematics allowed her to year things apart and look at the patterns. Pandora sure loved the patterns. It was in the repeating events where the scenery had been changed yet the fracture screamed the same frequency. Try with all her intellect and frustration, the lid would not go back on the box. The screams of this fracture were too powerfully unleashed for the powerless lid.

*************************************************************************************************************

He always knew that everyone was judging him. His mind projected all of the deep analysis of his every last hair out of place and wrinkle in his shirt. Surely, he was only steps away from full blown schizophrenia. As he walked by another face, regardless if it was printed or human, he could see their judgements. Not with his eyes. But he saw their face flash a grimace as he walked by. The same grimace he would make when he saw his own reflection. He grew to understand how to hide it. How to hide himself. Like deer piss on a hunter, he walked through this world disguised to make him feel secure.

As he parked the car within the confines of a painted parking space, he sat for a moment preparing his mind for the adventure ahead. He had made it to 85. Or was it 58? He couldn’t be sure at this point. He was deeply occupied in the art of disguise and placate to consider the destination he finally made it to. The opportunity of a soul’s journey. It was very often that a traveler on their own journey crosses by the sign above the entrance. There were very few that could see the sign above the entrance. It was as mundane looking as a toaster on a kitchen counter. For him, on this particular day, it radiated. He nearly lost control of his mind as he looked up and his mind perceived it. As simple as it was, it said that he had arrived somewhere significant.

∞

There was a feeling ringing throughout his body. He couldn’t understand what it was. It was like running a mile and sitting down to feel your heartbeat still trying to calm. The heart gets so excited to supply you with the nourishment you need! His urge for rest, and the reason for coming here, had faded. His mind was starting to wonder why he was here and what he was doing. His heart started to envelop his mind with a sensation of complete newness. He felt new in that moment. He closed his eyes. He felt for the handle of the door and as his hand touched it, he melted into him. Into the endless existence of him.

The beginning of it all is hard to pinpoint. They say that there was nothing to consider in existence prior to the Big Bang. We’re nearing 15 million years ago. As much as our science and math and logic has been a tool for huge advancements in human consciousness, they’ve also restricted us. He knew that. He knew that the limited world of facts and concrete knowledge held him back from the dreams of music and travel and art, beauty. He walked the line of hedonism so seductively that he nearly seduced his heart into thinking this was all real. Every now and again the truth would arise in him again. He would see massive catastrophe as a part of him was ripped away by rogue planetary development. That’s why he loved plans. Concrete knowledge. If he had known that the collision was imminent, would he have been able to save that part of him from also becoming a rogue? He thought of some “...bard and a rogue walk into a bar…” joke and chuckled a bit. He wanted to be here all the time. He wanted to be able to rewind and review so that he could course correct. The symbols and the messages weren’t making any sense at all. Even the musings deep within him were just too contradictory to what he knew to be concrete. She was dead and gone. He had never spoken to her. So how could she be musing him to feeling this way when she was no longer emitting her frequency?

He knew it was coming from beyond his mind. From spaces she was thrown into. His mind reeled from the thought of her alone in that cold darkness. Away from his warmth and the loss of her glow. He honored her and mourned her but he knew that he had to continue his own existence. That was concrete. She was not returning. Her song still rang through him. Like the heartbeat after a mile. It had infused within him and he felt her hugging his heart.

*************************************************************************************************************

She wanted to understand but she knew she couldn’t. Her heart was speaking and she gave her heart the stage. She sat in the front row and closed her eyes as her heart sang a song. She allowed the song to audition in her mind. The thoughts that began to dance were fantastical at first. Sheer miracles of love. Memories have a habit of creating this molasses dense trap along the neurons. The spots where ghosts haunt the current joy and fulfillment presented to us. The ghosts were pulling away at the molecules of this glorious song and dance the heart and mind had begun. She knew her heart could heal these ghosts and allow them to reach liberation through this dance of life. So she let her heart sing and her fantasies dance.

Within the neurons lie the memories of her pain. They’re nothing but memories at this point. Like a library section titled “Things Human Do To Hurt Each Other”. Her intellect knew she could figure out the reason and the rhyme. The cause and the effect. When she did find her answer in her library, she couldn’t reconcile what she had discovered within her archives. She knew it was him in her archives. He was not him. The one that had left the molasses trap in her neurons. But it was. Like a ship at port to restock on supplies, pillage and depart for the stormy seas again, he taught her more than he knew.

Her life had been a continuous series of events which confirmed to her exactly everything she had known. It also fortified the fractures and their detrimental deepening with each attempt at loving this world. Like a wedge meant to split wood and pile it up pretty for burning in the stove, her love had always been through the filter of what she knew and what the world confirmed for her. She didn’t know that her heart had the power to heal and love and protect her. She searched for someone in the world who had the sense and sensibility to be able to love. But love doesn’t follow sense or sensibility.

Sometimes she’d allow herself to day dream these stories of finding her place in all of this existence. But she felt like she was floating in the middle of nowhere all the time. She knew that void space is where thoughtforms and the emotional dimension meet and coordinate the creative process with the rest of the universe. She knew that if she could just rest for the time it took for the universe to coordinate all of their ends, what would be carried out of the void with her would be pure divinity. She knew that within the very creative process of her heart, mind and the universe working in synergy together, they could create something with graceful power.

What she could not see is that she was the creation. She had died and was sitting in the void space for so long she couldn’t discern between herself and everything else. When she saw the world of forms surrounding her, she saw nothing but the light of life itself swirling and dancing and living to the beat of the heart that powers the creator mind. How could she possibly be the one carrying divinity into the world of forms? It was in this question that she realized: She is the divinity in the world of forms.

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He couldn’t comprehend this calling. His feet had carried his so far without a fight. It was an automatic response to the world at this point. He would enjoy the things life had for him and then his mind would start spitting in his face. So he lost her.

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The journey is never something to take for granted. From the mundane everyday events which we find ourselves bored of to the grand awakenings that shake the very core of our existence. Every single day is something that brings to you an opportunity to live. How you live is entirely up to you. The thoughts that are processing in your mind are simply programmings which need to be removed and repaired. But repaired, I really mean neutralized. Much like being plugged into some command central explaining to you false prophecies of what life is, your mind has been programmed to operate in a way that is wholly detrimental to your living essence. There have been many events which have carried the essence of living for you to witness. Yet the density of your reality pulled you into its core. This is essential for you to know as part of this story is to warn you of the entrapments of gravity.

As you grow and amass more gravity, you will pull in frequencies which you do not understand yet. These are ancient frequencies we have forgotten. I will not categorize or define what it is for you because it is your responsibility to hold yourself accountable for that. Living, being alive, is to create. What are you creating? When you get an idea to create something in your life, what excuses are you using to support the programs which tell you that you cannot? How you live is entirely up to you. It is essential for you to really know that. You truly get to choose if you are going to be a decent human, a hero, a tyrant or a lesser than worthy human. Every single moment in your life you get to set the tone for who you are and what you represent in the eyes of divine life force. It doesn’t matter who told you what in your childhood. Nothing you have been told applies to your reality at this point in space and time. You are safe and your family is safe. There are always moments where we cannot see our way to peace. It’s vital for you to remember these moments are the spaces where our surrender to divinity and love creates unexpected solutions. I heard a collective scoff at “Love and light”. I am not all love and light. I am rage and terror and love and a destroyer. It is your perception of what the words do to your stable reality that causes you to recoil.

Sacred Rage can sweep the minds of a nation into revolution for equality and peace without war destroying the love of a collective. Terror is the edge of the cliff that the fool blindly bounds off of knowing so firmly that regardless of the fear welling up inside, the fool will get back up and continue on their journey. Love for the experience of reincarnation allowing us to arrive closer towards home each opportunity we discover.

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multiverseforger · 4 years ago

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Born in Milbury House in Victorian London, Nathaniel Essex was the son of Admiral Erasmus Essex and his wife Mary Essex. Earning a full scholarship to the University of Oxford, Essex becomes a biologist in 1859 and married his wife Rebecca. A contemporary of Charles Darwin, Essex becomes highly interested in theories and research regarding evolution and "survival of the fittest." He concludes that humanity is undergoing increasing mutation, due to what he calls "Essex Factors" in the human genome. After the loss of his four-year-old son Adam due to birth defects, Essex becomes more obsessed with his work. While he dreams of evolving the human race to a greater state of being, he is also frustrated that his peers do not agree with his methods due to moral constraints, arguing that science is beyond morality. His research methods and ideas lead to mockery and finally ousting from the Royal Society and the scientific community. Angry and bitter, Essex decides he will accept becoming a "monster" in the eyes of others if that is what is necessary to achieve success in his work.[2]

Essex later hires the criminal Cootie Tremble and his gang, the Marauders. The Marauders kidnap homeless and neglected people off the streets of London as test subjects for Essex's experiments, including a man named Daniel Summers (an ancestor of the X-Man Scott Summers AKA Cyclops). Two years after Adam's death, the Marauders awaken the immortal Egyptian called En Sabah Nur ("The First One," known in later years as Apocalypse), whom Essex believes is the first of a new race of mutant humans. Holding similar beliefs regarding "survival of the fittest", the mutant villain Nur offers an alliance in order to aid Essex's research.[2]

Cyclops and Phoenix, heroes from the future, arrive via time travel to stop Nur from conquering 19th century England, though they also hope to find a way to prevent Dr. Essex's future transformation into Mr. Sinister. Nur defeats Cyclops and Phoenix, leaving them for Essex to experiment on. Phoenix explains to Essex that continuing his work with Nur will lead to worldwide destruction. Sensing truth in her words, Essex decides to leave behind his research and dedicate his life to family instead, as his wife Rebecca is pregnant once again. Unknown to him, Rebecca Essex investigates his lab and is shocked to discover imprisoned human test subjects and the remains of their son being experimented on. Freeing the prisoners and reburying her son, the strain and stress evidently cause Rebecca to go into premature labor. When Nathaniel arrives to explain he is leaving behind his unorthodox research, he finds that the unborn child has died in stillbirth and Rebecca is now dying as well. Nathaniel asks for forgiveness, but Rebecca refuses, saying with her dying breath, "To me, you are... utterly… and contemptibly… sinister!" Following Rebecca's death, Essex allies with En Sabah Nur, becoming the villain's first "prelate." Using alien technology at his disposal, Apocalypse subjects Essex to a painful genetic transformation, turning him into an ageless being with chalk-white skin and gifting him with a form of telekinesis. When En Sabah Nur tells the transformed scientist to shed his past identity and choose another, Essex decides he will now be "Sinister."[2] While claiming his humanity has now been carved out of him, Essex continues to carry Rebecca's photo until 1882.[2]

Another encounter with Cyclops convinces Sinister that the hero knows him from the future. Cyclops and Jean Grey then leave before Sinister can get further answers. When Apocalypse demands Sinister create a deadly plague that they can unleash on Earth, the scientist refuses, arguing that cruelty without purpose is ignorance, thus the enemy of science. Appreciating that Sinister has shown strength through defiance, Apocalypse returns to his hibernation state but promises that when he returns Essex will be his servant and they will reshape the world.[2] Following the death of Charles Darwin, Sinister travels to America and assumes the identity of obstetrician "Nathan Milbury" (taking the name of his ancestral home), head of the Essex Clinic in New York in the 1890s. There he continues secret experiments on people in order to learn more about genetic manipulation and improve his own biology. He comes to understand more and more that certain people are born with an "X-factor gene" or "X-gene", making them mutants whose powers and abilities often manifest during puberty or trauma. One early test subject is a mutant with a long lifespan named Amanda Mueller. To see how her children will be affected by her genes, Sinister has Amanda marry his former test subject Daniel Summers (who recently became the first of his family to immigrate to America). With each birth, Amanda feigns a miscarriage and secretly brings the baby to Sinister, who compensates her. Seeing great potential in the Summers family line, Sinister monitors the family for over a century to come.

Around this same time, Sinister encounters Courier and Gambit, two mutants from the future. Sinister takes a cell sample from the shape-shifting Courier and is able to implant its genetic traits into his own body, gaining complete control of his form's appearance and allowing himself to regenerate from damage. Before Courier and Gambit leave, Sinister sees evidence that he has (or will) perform surgery on Gambit at some point in the future.[10]

In 1899, Apocalypse emerges from hibernation again and is pleased with Sinister's work, including the development of a deadly techno-organic virus. Sinister then injects the virus into Apocalypse, but it only weakens the villain. As Apocalypse returns to hibernation to heal, he promises to kill Sinister when next they meet. Sinister decides his genetic research must now include the possible creation of a mutant who can kill Apocalypse.[11]

20th CenturyEdit

In 1907, Sinister works at the Ravencroft Institute and employs the mutant killer Sabretooth as an agent. Sabretooth brings him the mutant called Logan. Sinister experiments on Logan but the man is then freed by coworker Dr. Claudia Russell (ancestor of the werewolf Jack Russell). Sinister then leaves Ravencroft and Logan's powerful mutant recovery abilities eventually heal the damage he suffered.[12] In 1912, Sinister encounters Grigory Rasputin and encourages him to father many children, promising they will have superhuman potential. These descendants later include the mutant warrior siblings Colossus, Magik, and Mikhail Rasputin.[13] A few years later, Sinister grants shape-shifting abilities to Jacob Shaw (father of the X-Men villain Sebastian Shaw).[14] It has been implied that during the 1920s, Sinister gave Dr. Herbert Edgar Wyndham information regarding how to map and break a human genetic code, thus leading to his career as the master geneticist called the High Evolutionary.[15]

During the 1920s, Sinister lives in Los Angeles as "Nathan Essex" and befriends radio comedian Faye Livingstone. Realizing Faye's genetic potential to have mutant children, he keeps her prisoner and experiments on her for some time, then one day releases her. Faye never has children and develops cancer. When both her mind and body break down, she become a patient at a hospital in San Diego for the rest of her life, her treatment apparently provided for by Sinister himself, who visits her once a year in his human guise of Essex.[16]

During World War II, Sinister works with the Nazi Dr. Josef Mengele. Others who see Sinister nickname him "Nosferatu." A young Max Eisenhardt (who will grow to be Magneto) encounters him at this time and realizes that Sinister is experimenting on children, then killing those he deems failures or no longer needed. During this time, Sinister sometimes plays a favorite piece by Franz Shubert, and decades later Magneto still associates him with the music.[17] During his work with the Nazis, Sinister creates a clone of the Atlantean warrior Namor, the Sub-Mariner. The clone, N2, is defeated by Captain America and Sinister soon concludes that it's time for him to leave the Nazis behind, as they will soon lose the war. Sinister's research during World War II is later recovered and used by the scientists behind the Weapon X project.[18]

Following World War II, Sinister adopts the name "Dr. Nathan Milbury" again and works on Project: Black Womb with Dr. Kurt Marko (the father of Juggernaut) and Dr. Alexander Ryking (who, like Marko, is a friend and colleague of Brian Xavier, father of Charles Xavier), as well as the precognitive mutant Irene Adler. They conduct research on many mutant children and take note of several families that may produce mutant children later, allowing Sinister to monitor them for decades.[19] In 1968, during the Vietnam War, Scalphunter brings soldiers and civilians to Sinister's new lab in Saigon for experimentation. Sabretooh, working as a mercenary, is hired to find the truth about the "White Devil" and his connection to reports of missing people, as well as the rumors of "monster men" appearing. Scalphunter tells Sabretooth to leave him and Sinister alone, offering money and teasing that he will let the authorities know the mercenary has been killing prostitutes during his investigation. Sabretooth agrees to leave with the money and Scalphunt indicates that he and Sinister will recruit him in the future.[20] Some years later, Sinister returns to England as Dr. Milbury, becoming a professor at the University of Oxford. His students include Moira MacTaggert and the mutant telepath Charles Xavier, who realizes he cannot sense Dr. Milbury's mind or read his thoughts.[21]

Years after Sinister's time back at Oxford, and during the time that Charles Xavier is first befriending Magneto while both are living in Isreal, a version of the heroic mutant Hank McCoy from an alternate timeline (known as the "Age of Apocalypse") enters the mainstream Marvel reality. Known as the Dark Beast, this version of McCoy is an amoral geneticist who worked for years under the mentorship of his reality's version of Sinister. Dark Beast eventually makes his way to New York City and experiments on many mutants, using techniques Sinister taught him. Several of his surviving test subjects become deformed or disabled by their own abilities as a result, choosing to hide underground and join a sewer-dwelling mutant community known as the "Morlocks" (taking the name from the subterranean race of the novel The Time Machine). Years later, Dark Beast's experiments indirectly lead to Sinister ordering the "Mutant Massacre."

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dfroza · 4 years ago

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this world will not always be.

but there is a True and pure Kingdom coming that will endure forever. and this is our hope of rebirth that we’ve been given from our Creator that is illuminated in the Son.

Today’s reading from the Scriptures is chapter #2 from the book of Hebrews:

That is why we ought to pay even closer attention to the voice that has been speaking so that we will never drift away from it. For if the words of instruction and inspiration brought by heaven’s messengers were valid, and if we live in a universe where sin and disobedience receive their just rewards, then how will we escape destruction if we ignore this great salvation? We heard it first from our Lord Jesus, then from those who passed on His teaching. God also testifies to this truth by signs and wonders and miracles and the gifts of the Holy Spirit lighting on those He chooses.

Now clearly God didn’t set up the heavenly messengers to bring the final word or to rule over the world that is coming. I have read something somewhere:

I can’t help but wonder why You care about mortals

or choose to love the son of man.

Though he was born below the heavenly messengers,

You honored the son of man like royalty,

crowning him with glory and honor,

Raising him above all earthly things,

placing everything under his feet.

When God placed everything under the son of man, He didn’t leave out anything. Maybe we don’t see all that happening yet; but what we do see is Jesus, born a little lower than the heavenly messengers, who is now crowned with glory and honor because He willingly suffered and died. And He did that so that through God’s grace, He might taste death on behalf of everyone.

It only makes sense that God, by whom and for whom everything exists, would choose to bring many of us to His side by using suffering to perfect Jesus, the founder of our faith, the pioneer of our salvation. As I will show you, it’s important that the One who brings us to God and those who are brought to God become one, since we are all from one Father. This is why Jesus was not ashamed to call us His family, saying, in the words of the psalmist,

I will speak Your Name to My brothers and sisters

when I praise You in the midst of the community.

And in the words of Isaiah,

I will wait for the Eternal One.

And again,

Look, here I am with the children God has given Me.

Since we, the children, are all creatures of flesh and blood, Jesus took on flesh and blood, so that by dying He could destroy the one who held power over death—the devil—and destroy the fear of death that has always held people captive.

So notice—His concern here is not for the welfare of the heavenly messengers, but for the children of Abraham. He had to become as human as His sisters and brothers so that when the time came, He could become a merciful and faithful high priest of God, called to reconcile a sinful people. Since He has also been tested by suffering, He can help us when we are tested.

The Book of Hebrews, Chapter 2 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 8th chapter of First Chronicles that documents the Family Tree of Benjamin, son of Jacob (Israel)

The Family of Benjamin (Continued)

Benjamin’s firstborn son was Bela, followed by Ashbel, Aharah, Nohah, and Rapha—five in all. Bela’s sons were Addar, Gera, Abihud, Abishua, Naaman, Ahoah, Gera, Shephuphan, and Huram.

These are the families of Ehud that lived in Geba and were exiled to Manahath: Naaman, Ahijah, and Gera, who led them to exile and had Uzza and Ahihud.

In the land of Moab, Shaharaim had children after he divorced his wives Hushim and Baara. From his new wife Hodesh he had Jobab, Zibia, Mesha, Malcam, Jeuz, Sakia, and Mirmah—sons who became heads of families. From his earlier wife Hushim he had Abitub and Elpaal. Elpaal’s sons were Eber, Misham, and Shemed, who built Ono and Lod with all their villages.

Beriah and Shema were family chiefs who lived at Aijalon. They drove out the citizens of Gath. Their brothers were Shashak and Jeremoth. The sons of Beriah were Zebadiah, Arad, Eder, Michael, Ishpah, and Joha. The sons of Elpaal were Zebadiah, Meshullam, Hizki, Heber, Ishmerai, Izliah, and Jobab. The sons of Shimei were Jakim, Zicri, Zabdi, Elienai, Zillethai, Eliel, Adaiah, Beraiah, and Shimrath. The sons of Shashak were Ishpan, Eber, Eliel, Abdon, Zicri, Hanan, Hananiah, Elam, Anthothijah, Iphdeiah, and Penuel. The sons of Jeroham were Shamsherai, Shehariah, Athaliah, Jaareshiah, Elijah, and Zicri. These were the chiefs of the families as listed in their family tree. They lived in Jerusalem.

Jeiel the father of Gibeon lived in Gibeon. His wife’s name was Maacah. Abdon was his firstborn son, followed by Zur, Kish, Baal, Nadab, Gedor, Ahio, Zeker, and Mikloth. Mikloth had Shimeah. They lived in the neighborhood of their extended families in Jerusalem.

Ner had Kish, Kish had Saul, and Saul had Jonathan, Malki-Shua, Abinadab, and Esh-Baal. Jonathan had Merib-Baal, and Merib-Baal had Micah. Micah’s sons were Pithon, Melech, Tarea, and Ahaz. Ahaz had Jehoaddah and Jehoaddah had Alemeth, Azmaveth, and Zimri. Zimri had Moza and Moza had Binea. Raphah was his son, Eleasah his son, and Azel his son. Azel had six sons named Azrikam, Bokeru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah, and Hanan. His brother Eshek’s sons were Ulam his firstborn, followed by Jeush and Eliphelet. Ulam’s sons were warriors well known as archers. They had lots of sons and grandsons—at least 150. These were all in Benjamin’s family tree.

The Book of 1st Chronicles, Chapter 8 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Thursday, january 7 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A set of posts by John Parsons that illuminates our Hebraic roots in faith & hope:

The name for ancient Egypt in Hebrew is “mitzrayim” (מִצְרַיִם) a word that can be translated as “straits” or “narrow places” (i.e., -מ, "from," and צַר, "narrow"), suggesting that “Egypt” represents a place of constriction, tribulation, oppression, slavery, and despair. The Hebrew word for salvation, on the other hand, is “yeshuah” (יְשׁוּעָה), a word that means deliverance from restriction, that is, freedom and peace. As it is written: "From my distress (מִן־הַמֵּצַר), i.e., from "my Egypt," I cried out to the LORD; the LORD answered me and set me in a wide open place" (Psalm 118:5).

But why, it may be asked, did God tell Jacob: “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt” (Gen. 46:3)? Why did God allow this excursion into “heavy darkness” that Abraham clearly foresaw (Gen. 15:12-13)? What is there about Egypt that prepares us to take hold of our promised inheritance? Joseph become a prince of Egypt; however, he was still a captive to Pharaoh, and later, after Joseph died, a “new Pharaoh arose” that did not acknowledge his contribution to Egyptian history (Exod. 1:8). All that remained of Joseph were his bones – a chest of bones that were carried out by Moses (and later buried by Joshua in Shechem). These “bare bones” of Joseph represented the essence of his faith, as he foresaw the time when God would rescue the family from Egypt and raise him up in the land of promise (Gen. 50:24-26; Heb. 11:22).

A general principle of spiritual life is that we must descend in order to ascend, or the "the way up is the way down" (John 12:24). As Yeshua said, "Whoever would be first among you must be slave of all" (Mark 10:44). Becoming nothing (i.e., ayin) in this world is the condition for seeing something in the world to come. Unless a seed falls to the ground it abides alone (John 12:24). But we become “nothing” by trusting in the promise of God, not by trying to do it ourselves... This is not another venture of the ego. Life in the Spirit means trusting that God will do within you what you cannot do for yourself... We can only take hold of what God has done for us by "letting go" of our own devices (Phil. 2:13). When we let go and trust, we will be transformed, carried by the “Torah of the Spirit of life” (i.e., תּוֹרַת רוּחַ הַחַיִּים, Rom. 8:2), The way is not trying but trusting; not struggling but resting; not clinging to life, but letting go...

God's way of deliverance is entirely different than man's way. Man tries to enlist carnal power in the battle against sin (i.e., religion, politics, etc.), but God's way is to remove the flesh from the equation. The goal is not to make us stronger and stronger, but rather weaker and weaker, until the ego is crucified and only the sufficiency of the Messiah remains. Then we can truly say, "I have been crucified with Messiah. It is no longer I who live, but the Messiah who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:20). The word "Hebrew" (עִבְרִי) means one who has "crossed over" (עָבַר) to the other side, as our father Abraham did when he left the world of Mesopotamia (Gen. 14:13). Likewise it is on the other side of the cross that we experience the very power that created the universe "out of nothing" (i.e., yesh me'ayin: יֵשׁ מֵאַיִן) and that raised Yeshua the Messiah from the dead. [Hebrew for Christians]

1.6.21 • Facebook

The exodus from Egypt (יציאת מצרים) is perhaps the most fundamental event of Jewish history; it is "the" miracle of the Torah. In addition to being commemorated every year during Passover (Exod. 12:24-27; Num. 9:2-3; Deut. 16:1), it is explicitly mentioned in the first of the Ten Commandments (Exod. 20:2), and it is recalled every Sabbath (Deut. 5:12-15). The festivals of Shavuot (Pentecost) and Sukkot (Tabernacles) likewise derive from it (the former recalling the giving of the Torah at Sinai and the latter recalling God's care as the Exodus generation journeyed from Egypt to the Promised Land), as does the Season of Teshuvah (repentance) that culminates in Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement). Indeed, nearly every commandment of the Torah (including the laws of the Tabernacle and the sacrificial system) may be traced back to the story of the Exodus, and in some ways, the entire Bible is an extended interpretation of its significance. Most important of all, the Exodus both prefigures and exemplifies the work of redemption given through the sacrificial life of Yeshua the Messiah, the true King of the Jews and the blessed Lamb of God.

The deeper meaning of exile concerns blindness of the divine presence. The worst kind of exile is not to know that you are lost, away from home, in need of redemption... That is why Egypt (i.e., Mitzraim) is called metzar yam - a “narrow straight.” Egypt represents bondage and death in this world, and the exodus represents salvation and freedom. God splits the sea and we cross over from death to life. Since Torah represents awareness of God's truth, Israel was led into a place of difficulty to learn and receive revelation (Gen. 46:1-7). Out of the depths of darkness God's voice would call his people forth. Likewise we understand our "blessed fault," the trouble that moves us to cry out for God’s miracle in Yeshua... Indeed the New Testament states that Yeshua "appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus (τὴν ἔξοδον αὐτου) which he would accomplish at Jerusalem" (Luke 9:31). [Hebrew for Christians]

https://hebrew4christians.com/

1.6.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

January 7, 2021

A Help in Sorrow

“And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” (Isaiah 35:10)

Christians have received great joy and hope for the future, but make no mistake, there are troubles in this life. Christ promised that even if we “weep and lament...your sorrow shall be turned into joy” (John 16:20). The third verse of “Jesus! What a Friend for Sinners” expresses this well.

Jesus! what a Help in sorrow!

While the billows o’er me roll,

Even when my heart is breaking,

He, my Comfort, helps my soul.

Our text shows that even when Israel was about to be captured and exiled, Isaiah still anticipated their return and ultimate victory. “Therefore the redeemed of the LORD shall return, and come with singing unto Zion; and everlasting joy shall be upon their head: they shall obtain gladness and joy; and sorrow and mourning shall flee away” (Isaiah 51:11).

In this life He has not left us without comfort, for Christ promised His disciples, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27). Even when death and separation are imminent, “I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

And in the next life, the “forever” life, “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away” (Revelation 21:4). JDM

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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