#I personally can’t imagine losing both my arms which are my main sources of touch

[glassofoj-twitter]

Post part 3 story that I want to build upon (read tags for more info)

[sunrisefairy]

Annoying

Paring: Remus Lupin x fem!reader Warning: NSFW! MDNI 18+ unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of oral sex. If I’ve forgotten anything let me know! Summary: Remus finds the reader so annoyingly distracting.  A/N: for the anon that wanted a mix of enemies to lovers and Remus losing control near the full moon. I hope I did it justice.  Requests are open!

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Remus Lupin isn’t one to hate people, sure there is only a select few people that he actually likes spending time with and considers his good friends but that doesn’t mean that he dislikes everyone else, he just doesn’t have time for a lot of people, especially annoying people. And some people are just more annoying than others and most times those people don’t even realise they’re acting as such. Except for the girl who is basically in every one of his classes, you. Remus is certain you know how infuriating you are, especially when you shoot your hand up to beat Remus to answering a question or how a smile will stretch across your pretty lips when you finds out you scored higher than Remus on a test or how you always seems to giggle a little louder when you knows Remus is nearby. Remus finds it irritating how you seems to know exactly how to get on his nerves, you know precisely how to make his cheeks heat up in anger and make his blood boil and his cock hard, okay maybe you don’t realise you’re doing the last one but still. But the thing that annoys Remus the most is you don’t seem to care.

Being friends with James Potter and Sirius Black, Remus has learnt to obtain the patience of a saint. He finds no trouble in zoning out their constant chatter and ignoring their mindless bickering. However, as it gets closer to a full moon, Remus’ tolerance wears thin and the marauders quickly learnt to simmer down and be wary of Remus around a full moon, unless either one of them wanted a smack to the back of the head. As it gets closer to his transformations Remus’ senses are heightened tenfold, it’s as if he can hear every sound, smell every scent and everything he tastes is 10 times more intense.

His joints were aching more than usual last night so that combined with Peters constant snoring ensured minimal sleep which resulted in Remus being extra irritable today which would have been manageable if he didn’t have a class first thing with you. Beautiful, cute, annoying you.

Remus thought if he could just spend the lesson concentrating hard enough on the professors dull voice that you sitting in the same room as him wouldn’t be an issue, it wasn’t like he sat next to you anyway, James or Sirius always occupied the desk next to him eager to ‘share’ his notes. Expect this day was different, because Remus got little sleep last night he slept through his alarm and somehow even slept through the booming voices of the Marauders when they were getting ready this morning. Remus started off the day jumping out of bed and rushing to get ready, having no time for breakfast (which added to his already foul mood) and practically falling through the classroom door only to find his usual seat was pre-occupied by some girl Sirius was trying to woo and James was sitting next to Pete.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin. How fantastic to see you have finally decided to join us. Please find a seat so I can continue on with my lesson,” the Professor states before continuing his lifeless lesson.

Remus quickly scans the room for a free chair to rush to, he spots one in the far corner of the room but falters in his step when he notices who is seated next to the free space, you. Remus groans when he realises this was the only free chair and very obviously drags his feet before plopping down beside you, he can only hope you decided to not be annoyingly distracting today.

“How scandalous that Mr. prefect is late to class,” you whisper, chuckling when you see Remus roll his eyes, a usual reaction of his.

Remus comes to the conclusion that the best point of action is to just pretend you don’t exist, which goes according to plan until 3 quarters of the way through the lesson. The thing is, Remus hasn’t sat in such close proximity to you this close to a full moon before and he’s struggling to keep his focus on the jumble of words in front of him and not on the way you’re obnoxiously twirling your hair between your fingers. Whatever perfume you sprayed on yourself is suffocating Remus’ nostrils and he can’t get enough. Within no time Remus thoughts are straying away from his textbook to more filthy thoughts surrounding you. The main image that is burning a hole in his brain is the thought of burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent and sinking his teeth into your perfect skin, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

Remus manages to write 2 more messy sentences down before glancing in your direction and noticing the way your lip is pulled between your teeth and he can’t help but fantasise about biting your annoyingly pretty lips himself.

“Stop doing that,” Remus grits through his teeth as he speaks.

You meet his gaze confused, “stop doing what?”

“That!” Remus whisper yells, pointing at your lips as you once again pull your bottom lip in between your lip. “It’s distracting.”

You mumble an apology and go back to writing your notes. You’re so engrossed in reading the selected chapter you don’t even notice you’re bouncing your leg up and down rapidly until a rough hand stills your movements. You’re expecting Remus to remove his large hand once your movements stop, however to your surprise he keeps his hand resting firmly against your bare knee. Mouth agape and staring down at where Remus is touching you, the way his thumb is stroking at your skin seems innocent enough, so why is your stomach in knots?

Remus leans dangerously close to your ear, which thankfully goes unnoticed by the rest of the class given the fact the two of you are seated at the back of the room. “You are being very distracting right now bunny, it’s making me angry.”

A visible shudder runs through your body, feeling Remus’ hot breath fanning the side of your face makes your mouth dry. Remus’ low teasing voice makes you whimper immediately a heat rushes up your cheeks because even though your whimper was quiet Remus is so very close to you right now, you know he heard.

“Come with me,” Remus squeezes your knee and moves to rise from his seat.

You halt his movements by grabbing onto his bicep, “we can’t just leave, we’re in the middle of class.” Your eyes dart to the front of the room to see if your professor has witnessed Remus’ half standing and planning his escape.

“What’s life without a bit of risk bunny, now c’mon.” his tone demanding and firm. Without even a second glance Remus walks out of class, making you wonder if he’s done this before. The odds are high, given that he’s one fourth of the infamous marauders clan.

You look away from the door Remus just so carelessly walked out of and to the front of the class at your professor, he’s sitting at his desk reading over papers and very obviously trying to stay awake. The chances of him catching you are slim but that isn’t what you’re nervous about. You’re nervous about what will happen if you do make it out of the classroom unnoticed, you’re nervous about what Remus will do to you. The endless possibilities are both thrilling and exciting. There’s no way you could stay seated not when there’s a wetness pooling in your panties just from Remus’ hand on your knee.

Carefully you slip out from your seat and rush to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when you successfully make it out into the corridor. Looking around you notice the corridor is empty and there’s no sign of Remus, you begin walking down the hallway in search of the boy.

“Remus?” you’re met with nothing but silence. Just as you’re about to turn and head back to class you feel a strong arm grip yours and tug your harshly into a tiny room.

“Ooft,” your body slamming into someone’s hard chest; if only there was a light source in this closet? yes it’s definitely a closet, if only it wasn’t so dark in here you would be able to figure out who decided it a good idea to scare the shit out of you by pulling you in here with them.

“Took your fucking time,” the other person grunts, Remus you thought, you knew that voice.

“Remus, what the hell? Care to explain why your dragged me out of class and into this dark broom closet?” Although there is no light in the tiny closet you can vaguely see Remus’ outline towering over you, you gulp realising how close the both of you are standing to each other. Remus’ hot breath fans your face and you’re very aware that if you were to angle your head further upwards and stand on your tiptoes you could connects your lips. The thought itself has you shuddering.

“Couldn’t wait.” Remus replies, stepping closer, invading your personal space even more, not that you minded.

“Couldn’t wait for what?”

“Merlin you’re dumber than I thought if you don’t know.”

You scoff defensively, “I am not dumb, do I have to remind you I bet you on the last Charms essay? and on the transfigurations one so-”

The words die in your throat, Remus cutting you off by connecting your lips in a needy and desperate kiss. Immediately you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer by the hair. Remus rests his hands on your waist pulling your hips flush against his, you whimper feeling his hard cock pressing against your stomach.

Remus breaks away from your mouth and starts sucking and licking down your jaw and neck while his hands move to grope at your breasts over the top of your school shirt. “We don’t have much time before class ends.” Remus mumbles into your skin, his mouth is salivating when he breathes in deep, his nostrils filling with the sweet scent of you, it’s so intoxicating and immediately images of you are accompanying his mind, some more sinful than others. Remus wastes no time in sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of your shoulder, his cock twitching at the sound you make.

“Then you better hurry up and fuck me Remus,” you smirk, loving the way Remus groans and narrows his eyes at you. His pupils have seemingly expanded and darkened, his eyes are scanning over every inch of your face leaving you feeling vulnerable.

Your pussy has been throbbing since Remus firmly rested his hand on your leg back in the classroom and you know your panties are soaked by now with the way Remus is rutting his hips against yours but it’s not enough. It won’t be enough, not until you know what it’s like to have Remus’ skin against yours and his cock inside you but even then, you think you will always be wanting more of him.

Your hands are fumbling at Remus’ pants trying to get them unbuckled as quickly as possible, Remus understands the rush and helps you, skilfully undoing his pants and pushing them along with his boxers down his legs with only one hand, the other creeps under your shirt and rests delicately on the small of your back. Just the feeling of Remus’ skin on your back makes you melt further into him, your desire to have him fuck you hard and fast is becoming unbearable. Remus’ cock is sitting hard and angrily between your bodies, desperate for any sort of attention and Remus wishes you had more time because he would love to push you down to your knees and finally force you to shut up by pushing his cock into your sweet mouth and make you gag and choke around his length until you’re crying. But time isn’t on his side right now so instead Remus wraps his strong arms around your arse, silently signally you to jump which you do with no hesitation and lock your legs around his waist.

Remus reaches his hand down to flip your skirt up, he be damned if he couldn’t see the cunt he’s spent way to much time thinking about. Remus pull your panties to the side groaning when his fingers graze your wet dripping core, another thing he wishes he could do is to taste you. He just knows you taste sugary and sweet just like the sounds you’re making as he teases your entrance. He wants to bury his face deep in your cunt inhaling your scent while he licks and sucks until you’re screaming his name, maybe another time.

“You gotta be quiet for me kay bunny? Think you can do that?” Remus’ voice is thick with lust and a condescending tone is laced throughout it.

“You think that highly of yourself?” you retort trying to rile Remus up like you normally do, it seems to be working judging by the way Remus pinches the flesh of your arse.

Without breaking eye contact Remus lines up his cock and drags your hips down until he’s deep inside you, his balls pressed flush against your skin.

Remus isn’t sure if it’s because it’s close to the full moon but he hasn’t even started moving yet and the way the soft velvet walls of your cunt is gripping and hugging at his cock feels so intense and heavenly, he thinks he might cum right there.

Along with a lack of patience around this time of the month Remus also struggles to control himself and his urges. It takes every ounce of self-discipline in him to hold you against the rough wall of the broom closet and slowly rock his hips into yours, feeling the need to control the situation. Remus is very conscious of not gripping your hips too hard and not slamming his hips up into yours too roughly, he doesn’t want to let go mentally and hurt you.

You can tell Remus is holding back, the authoritative tone used in the classroom is vastly different to his actions right now. He’s supposed to be fucking you hard and fast and making you scream, not this.

Although the pleasure from Remus’ rocking into your cunt is great you know he can do better, can fuck you better. “Remus,” you whine, pulling his face away from your neck, forcing him to look you in the eyes. There’s clearly an internal struggle behind his eyes. “Remus, I need you to fuck me properly. I can take it, you won’t break me, promise.”

Remus does pick up the speed slightly, but you can clearly tell there’s still some hesitance on his behalf and you asking nicely didn’t seem break that. You’re desperate for Remus to let go. A smirk breaks out onto your face, an idea forming. Based on your previous interactions you know exactly how to get under Remus’ skin, what to say and do that would have him clenching his jaw in annoyance, after all it was a hobby of yours, annoying Remus Lupin. “Guess we don’t have to worry about me being quiet if you fuck like this. Pity, was kinda hoping you’d have me screaming.”

Something deep and primal in him snaps, blame it on the full moon or how you’re silently challenging him, he doesn’t care, all he cares about right now is proving you wrong, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had you trembling and shaking.

His grip on your hips tighten, nails threatening to break skin as Remus pushes your further into the wall behind you so hard for a second you think you might go tumbling right through it. You’re grateful for the material of your school top slightly soften the rough texture of the wall behind you. With no warning Remus starts slamming his hips harder and faster into yours, clearly set on making you squirm against him. Each thrust is harder than the last and his cock is poking your g-spot repeatedly. The sounds you were making were positively indecent and only fuelled Remus on. Neither of you cared that anyone walking by the broom closet could possibly hear the sound of skin slapping together or yours and Remus’ moans. None of that mattered, not when the two of you felt this good.

The vigour of Remus’ pace was unmatched and all you could do was hold on tight to Remus’ shoulders and take every powerful thrust. You were hypnotised with the feeling of Remus’ cock inside of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what other parts of his body like his fingers or tongue, would feel like when fucking you.

“Fuck Remus, so good. I-I” you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say, all your thoughts were jumbled and bouncing around in your brain, all you knew is you never wanted Remus to stop.

“You feel amazing,” Remus’ body was on fire, every inch of him alight and burning, his annoyance of how his day started was far from his mind. All he could think of was you and how you were clenching around him. He chokes out a strained sob when he hears you chanting his name in time with each rough snap of his hips, you sound both angelic and sinful at the same time, Remus’ wishes he had one of those muggle voice recording devices so he could record your whines and listen to them when he’s alone in his dorm room.

Using his free hand Remus reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit edging you closer and closer to your release. Your orgasm is fast approaching much like a freight train heading straight for you, sirens blaring but you can’t move, the pleasure is too intense and too powerful to do anything except take it.

Remus’ face is pressed back against your neck and he quickly decides it’s his favourite place to be, if someone offered him 1,000 Galleons to never bury his face in your neck, he wouldn’t take it. Remus can hear the squelching sounds of your soppy cunt as it helplessly takes his fat cock. He’s leaving sloppy kisses and hickeys wherever he can get his mouth. It’s right when Remus’ digs his teeth into your neck and bites down hard do you fall apart, your pussy clenching and spasming around him, right in this moment you’re thankful for Remus holding you up against the wall, your legs are shaking and tensing and you know if you were standing the intensity of the orgasm would have brought you to your knees. Remus’ name is the only word you seem capable of saying as the coil inside your stomach snaps and rapidly unravels as you come undone.

“Remus, Remus, Remus!”

You connect your lips with Remus’ in a lame attempt to shut yourself up, the kiss is rushed and your teeth clash together but you don’t give a fuck. Remus’ name is still spilling from your lips and into Remus’ mouth as your body begins to come down from the high.

The boy holding you up hasn’t faltered in his movements at all, determined to fuck you through your orgasm. There’s beads of sweat dripping from Remus’ forehead, his mind is whirling and thoughts of you are spiralling around his brain, he thinks he might pass out and he’s certain he does for a second when you whisper and bite his earlobe.

“Want you to cum inside me Remus, fill me up,” half a thrust later and Remus’ hips stutter and he’s spilling into your cunt groaning your name as he does so. His vision blurs around the edges before he closes his eyes and he lets out a moan so deep, primal and loud. Remus continues to rock his hips milking his own orgasm until the last drop is squeezed from his soften cock. He stills his movements but doesn’t dare pull out just yet, relishing in the warmth of your pussy and the way your hand is brushing the sweaty hair off his forehead. You rest your forehead against Remus’ sweaty one, pecking his lips, once, twice then three times.

“That was…” you drift off unable to find the right words to describe what just happened.

“Intense?” Remus offers breathlessly.

You nod, “in the best way.”

It wasn’t until you hear the sounds of students outside signalling the end of class do either of you move, Remus helping you clean yourself up. And it wasn’t until the two of you were certain the coast was clear did you exit the closet with the promise of doing that again very soon.

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Locked and Reloaded [Ch. 5]

Marvel AU

TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gun Violence, Implied Abusive Household

Genre: Action, Light Comedy, Angst

Pairing: NCT Dream x Reader

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

(5/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Locked and Reloaded Masterlist]

Word Count: 6.5K

Notes: It’s about time these members entered the story. I’m dropping this now instead of a Saturday upload because I’m getting my second dose of vaccine in about nine hours, and from how both of my parents reacted something tells me that I’m going to be incapacitated for the next two days, so I decided to finish this bad boy up now! Currently next on my list to work on is Infatuation, so I’ll see you in that update!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.

“That’s stupid,” you told your older brother. Baekhyun just laughed. You had just finished ranting to him how a majority of the premise of chemistry was ridiculous, being founded on one key theory that could be amended at any moment, something now set in stone or put to law. It was a theoretical science that clashed with the lawfulness of physics and the puzzle of biology. “Chemistry is literally the weakest link.”

“I don’t quite think so, songbird,” the nickname was sweet in his voice, it was one you had had for as long as you could remember. He leans against your desk and he points at the picture. “It’s just atomic theory.”

“Yeah, and it’s stupid. Imagine, all of this work, all seven hundred of these pages and countless other books could get proved incorrect if someone disproves it.”

“You read this entire textbook and that’s all you have to say about it?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Wah, you’re so amazing and you don’t even know it,” he hugged your head to his stomach and you pushed him away.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you wiped the sweat from your face. “At least shower before coming into my room! You’re disgusting when you use the gym.”

“And miss my darling sister? No way, that and I came to congratulate you!” He points at the certificate on your desk just under your coffee mug. “Not every day you win the science fair… again.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you put a textbook over it. He was right, but it was hardly an achievement for you at this point, it was an expectation.

“What did you do this year?” None of them even showed up, the only person there to help you with your project was Jeno, but he was always there whether you liked it or not.

“You don’t know?”

“I was at the conference, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you sighed. “It was just an observation on bees.”

“Whoa! Bees are great! They’re so helpful for pollination, for honey, and so much more!” Baekhyun smiles. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up, right? Fourteen? Oh god, oh no, my songbird? A teen? I don’t think I can handle this.”

“You’re overreacting! It’s not like I’m going to be any different. Plus, I’m already a teen.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you have no idea. Thirteen is the one year free trial before you start having to pay to be a teen. Once you turn fourteen, ugh, I don’t even know how to say this,” Baekhyun fake cries and wipes away the invisible tears. “It’ll be like you’re a whole different person.”

“Stop that! Why are you acting so weird?” You laughed and turned to him. Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest and your smile dropped. You knew that look on his face better than anyone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I leave tonight,” he says.

“How long?”

“Maybe a week this time, dad wants to show me the properties over in Zone 8.”

“Seriously? What for?” The factories that far out from the city were nearly ghost factories, they just handled building the smaller removable parts of the weapons your father developed. You couldn’t think of a possible reason why Baekhyun would have to go out that far.

“I have no clue, maybe he just wants me to see the Byun system at a smaller scale,” Baekhyun sighs. “Will you be okay here?”

“Will I be okay here? Don’t make me laugh,” you slammed your textbook shut and stared at him. “She hates me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“She does! You’ve seen the way she talks to me when you’re not around, Baek, I genuinely think that woman wants to get rid of me.”

“She’s your mother.”

“No, she’s your mother.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did. But you could genuinely say that you never felt anything from her aside from the obvious disdain she must have held for you. But what could you do? You’d hate you too. If one day your husband showed up at your doorstep with a kid you didn’t recognize telling you to treat her as if she was your own, you’d despise that child’s existence. All you were was proof of infidelity, and your stepmother made that very clear. You were her daughter on paper alone, but in reality, you were nothing more than a freeloader. “I’m just the bastard kid from dad’s mistress.”

“Do not,” Baekhyun held a finger up and stared at you with an intensity you’ve never seen on his face before. Seriousness wasn’t something that Baekhyun often used, especially around you. “Do not ever reduce yourself to that. Do you understand? You are so much more than that and you can’t let anyone who says that to you bring you down, you cannot let that weigh on you. Who even told you that?”

“She did. Who else?”

“God…” Baekhyun looked away and huffed. He held his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Keep in touch with me, okay? Just one more year and I can take it to court.”

“Forget it, Baek,” you waved your hand. “It would never work. We have no proof.”

“Well,” Baekhyun pressed his lips together and placed a tape in front of you.

“A tape? Seriously?”

“Don’t hate on old tech, they’re still around for a reason. I have a walkman in my room, second drawer on my desk. Listen to it later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you placed the tape in your own drawer, out of sight and out of mind.

“Just wait for me, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay, just go, dad’s probably waiting for you,” you opened your textbook again and stared at the passages on it. You had a really bad feeling about tonight, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Love you, songbird.”

“I know.”

~

“Sungchan! Four o’clock!” You shouted towards the agent. Sungchan, moving a second too late was met with the spine of a book to his face, promptly knocking him out. “Aw, geez,” you shoved your bag under a table, hoping that it would be somewhat okay after the fight, and threw a metal tray, the circular object blocking one of the flying weapons from hitting Shotaro on his way to Sungchan.

“Thank you!” He shouts. He leans next to his best friend and tries to wake him up while the fight continued.

“I’ll try to keep you guys covered, but you might need to fill in for me eventually, Reaper’s not doing too good over there,” you stumbled over to the two and handed Shotaro one of the pillows from the couch. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked out, but I have to watch him just in case… you know.”

“I do, just make sure he’s fine.”

With Jeno’s sudden appearance the Sanctum became a new battleground. Ancient artifacts were being used left and right for battle, whether they were used correctly or not, and with incoherent shouts filling the previously calm room. Strange was doing his best to prevent anything potentially world-threatening from happening, the Sorcerer Supreme understanding the laws of the universe, as well as any of you did, while the Maverick worked to bring down Vulture. The surprise attack rendered them at an unfortunate disadvantage. Strange was more concerned with keeping the battle within the Sanctum than he was helping any of you out, which was entirely understandable.

“I got it!” Peter shoved back the bookcase that was about to fall on you.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Just so you know I am so sorry I did not mean for any of this to happen I didn’t know.”

“Oh goodness, no hard feelings, Peter, it happens to the best of us,” you said to him. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Thanks, (Y/N), that means a— Watch out!” He pushed you out of the way just as a shield lodged itself between you, you turned towards the source and saw Vulture, and you had to stop yourself from getting any more frustrated than you already are.

“Fucking hell,” you clapped your hands together and jogged in place. “Stretching before fights is good for you, Peter, don’t forget that,” you said to him. Then you saw Cap waving his hand. You pulled the shield from its spot and threw it back to him.

“Nice arm!”

“Don’t lose your shit!” You moved your head to the side just as a bullet whizzed past you. “And watch where you’re aiming!” You dodged another bullet as it ricocheted off of one of the metal artifacts of the Sanctum.

“I am,” Jaemin’s voice was steady despite the chaos. “Reaper!” Jaemin tossed one o the artifacts towards the other, particularly a sharp one, and Jeno drove it into the wall next to Vulture, just barely grazing the Follower. Vulture grabbed onto the back of Jeno’s neck, the razor claws on his hands emerging and sinking into the half-demon before Vulture slammed Jeno’s head through the wall.

“Urgh, I felt that,” you rubbed the back of your neck as the phantom pain shot through it. You quickly stepped back just as an eldritch whip snapped in front of you.

“Mr. Wong?!” Peter gasps.

“That one isn’t in our database,” Jaemin grabbed onto the whip as it went towards you again, ‘Wong’ staring at him with a slight confusion, to which Jaemin just tugged it away from the other’s hands, watching the concentrated energy dissipate.

“Well then add him later, dammit,” you charged towards Vulture but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You looked at the portal next to your foot and the hand around it. “Ew! Oh my god!” You yanked it out of ‘Wong’s’ grasp and shot towards him, the bullets disappearing before they could get anywhere close. No wonder it was so fucking convenient, you hoped whoever the real Wong was and where he was currently wasn’t too horrible.

“We should name this guy,” Jaemin dodged the eldritch disk that nearly sliced his throat. “I’m thinking Frisbee.”

“Oh come on, let’s stay true to tradition and wait for Hyuck,” you pulled a sword from the suit of armor next to you and blocked the whip again. You turned the hilt in your hand and smiled. “Ooh, I like this. You know my ex used to be an expert fencer.”

“I almost forgot about that one,” Jaemin hums. “What’s with sleeping beauty over there?”

“Got hit in a face with a book.”

“Oh that’s good, one less bomb we have to worry about.”

“That’s rude,” you scolded him.

“Can someone help me over here?!” Jeno’s pissed off voice came from the office. He pushed himself up from the rubble and cracked his neck before his knuckles. “I’m going to kill this guy, fuck the Agreement.”

“Does the Agreement even apply this far out?” You asked. Jaemin pulled out his phone briefly. The Agreement was offered by the D98 Avengers, basically promising not to do any dimension altering things, but it was just a promise, nothing was set in stone and thus was lacking in any legality. It was a gentleman’s promise, so to say.

“Technically it doesn’t, D62 is far out of D98 bounds. And since none of the Avengers are here…” Jaemin let Jeno fill in the blanks himself.

“Good,” Jeno tapped his wrists together, a blood-red magic circle appearing between them.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” You looked around while skillfully parrying evil Wong’s attacks.

“Hear what?” Shotaro was nursing the passed out Sungchan while blocking any projectiles that made their way towards him.

“It kind of sounds like screaming,” Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.

“No, it sounds like… no, of all the members to send,” you groaned. Then the sound of doors crashing open accompanied the chaos that was the Sanctum while a familiar face ran in head first, literally, screaming his head off, and rams into Dr. Strange.

“I got this one, V! Don’t worry!” Chenle shouts.

“You idiot he’s on our side!” Jeno grabs a polearm from a nearby suit of armor and whacks it over Vulture’s head, the polearm breaking in half right after and really just pissing off the Follower more.

“Oh is he? Sorry!” Chenle detached himself from the sorcerer.

“Looks like we’ll be having a change in plans,” Strange murmured and disappeared from the room.

“Did the wizard just dip?!” You yelled.

“I think so!” Chenle yelled back, despite being right next to you.

“Why are you even here?!”

“We were talking to Fury when Jeno just fell into a sudden pool of blood! I followed your tracker here because I figured you’re in trouble. Be grateful!”

“I never said I wasn’t?!” You heard a pang next to you and turned to your side, a circular shield blocking your vision for only a brief moment before connecting with Other Wong’s abdomen.

“Thanks,” you nodded towards Steve.

“No problem,” he says. “But where’d that bullet come from?” Cap looks around the room. Jaemin rushes next to you and grabs something, pointing it upwards. Within a few moments, someone materializes next to him. A classic cloaking spell, of course, right when you needed it most.

“Monsieur,” her voice was hoarse.

“Lynx,” you saw him grimace while the woman drove a knife into Jaemin’s side and twisted it harshly. A loud groan left the man’s throat while you darted next to him and tackled the woman to the ground.

“I like your D62 version better!” You pressed your gun to her head and she threw you off before you could pull the trigger.

“Nat!?” Steve blocked another gunshot from her with his shield.

“Not Nat,” Bucky answers.

“Where have you been?”

“This thing’s still glowing,” Bucky held up the crystal.

“Give that to me!” Chenle appears next to them and grabs it. “You meaty idiots don’t know what to do with this.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Apperio!” Chenle ignored the Captain and chanted the charm, a magic circle appeared around the crystal. Following the ripple of two blue circles that expanded throughout the room, two more people appeared.

“There’s more of them?!” You shot Vulture in the leg. Before you were two other notorious members of the Elite. Arachnid, who you fought before, and Dead Shot, someone you were hoping not to run into in this dimension. “Someone get Parker out of here as soon as he touches Arachnid it’s over!” You shout.

“Oh please, I wouldn’t even try that. What good is this mission if any of us blow up the dimension while we’re at it,” Arachnid catches the flying dagger and flings it back towards Jaemin, who easily dodged it.

“We have orders to keep you alive, Vendetta, comply and the others will live,” Dead Shot spoke in his trademarked mechanical voice.

“Fuck that,” you pointed your gun at Arachnid and click. Click, click. “Well, this is awkward,” you chucked the magnum at Arachnid, the handle of the gun hitting the area between the mutant’s eyes and stunning him briefly, while Dead Shot released a flurry of bullets. You ran along the wall to dodge them, looking for something to shield yourself with now that Cap and Bucky were busy with Lynx, Jeno had Vulture busy, and Jaemin moved over to Arachnid so that Peter could handle Evil-Wong instead.

“Surrender or be forced to, Vendetta.”

“Well, shit,” you held a book in front of you while Dead Shot went through consecutive rounds.

“How could you not know a Follower was here?!” Jeno was pushed back next to you while deflecting Vulture’s attacks.

“How the hell was I supposed to know?! I didn’t even know that those three were here until a couple of minutes ago!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“No, I’m not kidding you because if I was we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“It has been thirty minutes! I let you and Jaemin go for thirty minutes and this happens!”

“In our defense,” Jaemin gets pushed back to the other side of you and clears his throat. “Peter brought us here.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Peter brushes off the embers on his suit. “Aw man, how am I going to explain this to Mr. Stark?”

“Explain? Have you been reporting us to him?!” You asked.

“Uh… no,” Peter’s phone goes off and he answers it. “Hi, Mr. Stark, there’s kind of a situation going on right now—”

“Tell them not to come here! If any of the other Followers show up it could tear the fabric of reality apart!” Chenle shouts. A magic circle appears under Peter’s phone and it short circuits. Chenle adjusts the watch around his wrist, a much larger magic circle appearing from it.

“Vocavi te ab umbris,” at the utterance of the words the shadows in the room gathered together to a much larger amalgamate. “Go, Vendetta, I’ll keep them handled.”

“Fuck,” you spotted your backpack, which was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.

“What now?” Jeno asks.

“Backpack.”

“What about it?”

“There’s something really important in there,” Jaemin sounded disappointed. “We could hole-in-one it, V.”

“We could,” you said. “But that risks shaking it up too much.

“Hot potato then?” Jeno offers.

“Who would start it?”

“The closest person is Shotaro, if he throws it far enough I could probably catch it,” Jeno says. “Pass it over to Jaemin.”

“Then I’ll pass it to you. But by then you need to be in that hallway,” Jaemin says.

“Got it, I can do that.”

“And if anything goes wrong?”

“Wing it.”

“We’re going to die in this dimension, aren’t we?” Jeno frowns.

“On the count of three, break,” Jaemin says, ignoring his best friend’s words. You hand Jeno the old sword, which he took without question. “One.”

“What do I need this for?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need it.”

“Two.”

“Wait, are we even on the same page?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Three!” Jaemin shoved you forward and you took off, dodging literally everything on your way to get out and probably get some more help.

“Shotaro! Pass me that backpack!” Jeno shouts over the gunshots. Shotaro perked up and grabbed the black bag, chucking it towards Jeno, who caught it easily. “Monsieur— Fuck, too far, Apollo! Pass this over to him!” Jeno tossed the backpack towards Chenle, the heavy bag slamming into the magician mid-spell.

“What the hell?!”

“Pass it here!” Jaemin knocked over Lynx and used her head the propel himself up and grab the backpack after Chenle threw it. He ran over towards you and threw it. Right as your hand grabbed the strap, it was yanked away from you.

“Fuck!” You looked back at who had it now, seeing your backpack in the hands of the last person who should have it. You were about the run over to him, but the bullet that landed too close for comfort reminded you that you had to leave now. “Arachnid has it!” You’d just have to put your trust into the three that were already here.

“Got it,” Jeno bashed his knee into Vulture’s head, finally incapacitating the Follower and switched targets. You turned around and ran into the hallway. You just had to call one of the other members to run over here with some extra materials. You hit the side of your phone, which only frizzed at the motion. Chenle must have jammed the signals to prevent more reinforcements from coming, great. You couldn’t run around forever, Dead Shot always hit his targets in the end, you continued down the hallway, not bothering to look back, but when you found yourself cornered against a hallway, you forced to figure out a solution. With the smell of smoke and the sounds of bullets hitting the ground— Wait a second. You looked down the hallway, bullets hitting metal and ricocheting towards you but never hitting any intended destination, there wasn’t even a bullet hole in sight, instead there were just empty shells on the ground. But in your analysis you failed to notice the stray bullet that was right in front of you. Then you saw someone’s closed fist in front of you.

“Did I get all of them?” He panted. He opened his hand and twelve bullets fell out of it.

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re just in time, I don’t remember you being this fast either,” you caught your breath and hugged the speedster, separating quickly. Mark pat down the smoke on his boots.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast…” He stretches his back and kicks the bullet shells aside.

“How’d you even get here?”

“The sorcerer guy called Baekhyun and asked us to come right away. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good so I came first, told them I’d scout the area. It’s a good thing I came, otherwise you’d look like Sponge-Bob…” He laughs awkwardly. “You’re at your quota, aren’t you?” He looks down at your feet. You followed his gaze and saw the rusted knife sticking out from it, then you noticed the bloody trail you left behind. You sighed and pulled the old thing out.

“Remind me to get a Tetanus shot.”

“You are at your quota,” he gasped.

“Can’t afford to possibly die right now,” you shook your head. “I thought since the dimension was far enough it’d get me some leeway, but I guess not,” you grimaced.

“Shit, it really is a good thing that I came just in time,” Mark looks over his shoulder. “Dead Shot should be on his way, you didn’t make it hard to find you.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me right now, Mark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry about that,” the speedster ruffled his blue hair and unzipped his jacket, pulling out a book from it. It was heavy, no doubt, leather-bound with metal embellishments around it. The book had lived through as many eons as it did dimensions. You had asked Mark to try to get it for you if he could, but nothing more than that. Better to leave him in blissful ignorance. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to say this,” he says while he hands it to you.

“Just spit it out.”

“I was looking into that thing you asked me about and here, this is all I got,” he says. “Whatever you need it for it’d better be important, I almost got turned into a frog for it. The guy I got it from warned me not to read it though.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, something about corrupting the person who reads it.”

“Oh shit, I should have Jeno read it then.”

“True, you can’t corrupt a demon.”

“But then again he is only half.”

“Look, (Y/N), I only got you the book because you were so insistent on it. Just reassure me and tell me that you won’t do anything stupid with it.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid, Mark. When are the others coming?”

“I just gave them the signal to enter, they’ll be taking care of the Follower problem here in a bit. But you’re going to have to explain why you’re here to them, and I’m afraid that it might involve you revealing your identities this time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why else would you be in D62 being housed and paid by this dimension’s Avengers?”

“Fair enough—” you were cut off by the bullet grazing your ear and landing in the wall behind you. Another one rang out and Mark grimaced, holding his hand to his shoulder

“Argh! Come on!” He grunts. He puts a hand on your back and one behind your neck.

“Why?”

“Whiplash,” you blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the Avenger’s Compound.

“Mark, don’t you dare!”

“Sorry! Jeno’s orders! I’d rather a pissed off you than Jeno!”

“Mark, I swear if you zoom out of here—” but the speedster was already gone by the time you turned around. “Dammit!” You kicked the wall and winced immediately, you completely forgot that it was the same foot that had a knife driven through it earlier.

He was right, you’d reached your quota. There was a certain amount of times you were allowed to “die” until it would be too much, and you knew you’d be at this quota when your body would stop healing itself, it was getting ready for its original host to return. You just didn't think you’d reach it soon, and who knows until the number resets? It was always a varying number, and until it did you had to lay low. It was such a hassle that you always tried to avoid it, but coming to this dimension seemed to have expedited the whole thing. You heard a bag of chips drop behind you.

“(Y/N)? When did you get here?” Jisung stared at you while he picked up the bag.

“Mark.”

“Mark’s here? Where?” Jisung looks around.

“There was a complication at Dr. Strange’s place,” you limped towards him, he rushed over to you and reached for your hand to help you, but you tugged it away. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Jisung gave you a little more space, but still walked next to you, sporting that easy-to-read concern. “Do they need help?”

“No. The Avengers are coming.”

“Oh… oh no,” Jisung caught onto why you were being short now. “Oh no, oh no, we won’t have a choice then.”

“No, we won’t,” you heaved the large book under your arm. Jisung looked at it but chose not to question you. “I’ll be in my room, I have a lot of thinking to do before we explain ourselves to the lapdogs so, if you need me, I’ll be in there,” Jisung says.

“Oi, (Y/N)!” Haechan held his hand up and Jisung furiously shook his head. Hyuck pressed on regardless. “Think you need this,” he waved the small box in his hand and you did a doubletake.

“Where did you get that?!” You rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands. “Be a bit more gentle with it!”

“Whoa! What’s got you pissed? Jeno drowned and dropped this. Changmin said to give it to you so I figured it’s important, damn.”

“The Avengers are coming.”

“Like… these Avengers?” He points around the room. “Or our Avengers.”

“The second one,” Jisung nods. “Right, (Y/N)?” You didn’t answer, you were already halfway to your room. You tossed the book on your bed and you opened the small box, pulling the vial of iridescent liquid from it. You twisted it open and downed its limited contents in one gulp. You felt all of your muscles relax at once and you sat on the bed. The wound on your foot closed quickly.

“Postponed, at least for now,” you stretched your arms. “But not permanently,” you placed the vial back in the box and you grabbed the book. As you held the two sides in your hands, ready to open it, you recalled Mark’s warning. Then you remembered the words of the Demon King himself.

“If you know what’s good for you, and what’s good for the world you reside in. Do not seek more than you already know about yourself.”

The times you spoke to Jeno’s father were limited, and your best friend liked it that way, preferred it actually, but the times you did talk they were always pleasant. Save for that warning. He knew something you didn’t, the both of them. You acquired this book without any of their knowledge. For years you just went with it, there’s a quota for death, there’s a reason why you can’t die, there’s a reason why you should avoid stepping near the Seraph, but now in this new universe, you had to know. There was something calling out to you in this dimension, it was very faint, and you didn’t truly notice it until you walked into the Sanctum.

You put the book away, sliding it under the bed.

Trust is mutual, if two very powerful beings are telling you to stay in your lane you probably should. You knew the bare minimum of your condition, so to say, you knew what you had to. Die too many times too close together and something else will come and reclaim its host, and all you knew about that entity was that it was some eldritch creature that took a millennia to finally contain, and for some reason, it had some affinity for you. That is where your knowledge stopped and your curiosity began. What could be so powerful that even the all-powerful Demon King wanted to keep it contained, and what did it have to do with you? Your answers were under your bed. But you risked too much by simply opening the book on its own. You hit your head lightly on the wall behind you. The liquid in the vial would extend your quota by at most three, you had to use them carefully. If you were going to attract a horrific monster, it would probably be best to not do it in a world that you didn’t belong to.

There was a knock at your door.

“What do you want, Renjun?”

The door opened slowly, and someone else stood at it.

“Is now a bad time?” Stark asks. You shook your head.

“It’s your building, come in,” you sighed. He walked in at your invitation, sitting at the table to the side.

“So this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. meant by living accommodations,” he laughs.

“What did you need, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony’s fine, thanks,” he says. “Sorry, it was eating away at me, I had to ask.”

“You wanna know about what you’re like in my dimension, right?”

“I’d appreciate it, but, something tells me I should come back later.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Probably getting their asses kicked, but I’m here instead,” you shrugged. “Honestly, you’re not that different. Maybe a little less depressed, but that’s about it. For what it counts, to our knowledge, you aren’t a Follower. You work closely with the Seraph, if they found out then you would’ve been executed on spot, at the very least.”

“Oh yeah? Crazy leader or rational one?”

“Bit of both,” you leaned forward on your bed, kicking the book further under your bed. “Want to know anything else?”

“I was wondering if you could walk me through your Traveler of yours, is it anything like Time Travel?”

“Let’s call it two sides of the same coin.”

“How so? What do you use? Cosmic strings? Möbius strip?”

“Have you heard of the infinite cylinder theory?”

“Also known as Tipler?

“Yes!”

“Then yes, I’m aware.”

“How about Schrödinger’s Equation?”

“We’re talking hamiltonian operators?”

“Bingo. If you can manipulate those two concepts, you can get time travel, but it’s not perfect. So manipulate them differently, add a few more concepts because you have to take relativity into account, and bam. Dimensional Travel.”

“That easy?”

“Yeah, well, no, but in theory sure.”

“And you never went to high school?”

“What’s that got to do with it? If you need a degree to prove you’re right then you’re probably not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you shrug. Tony opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. “Something tells me you want to ask me something more specific though, Peter let slip that he’s been sending you updates, so I’m sure you’re here for a different reason.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help us?”

“Don’t really know how to answer that one, Tony,” you placed your ankle on your opposite knee and rolled out your ankle. “Usually we just take whichever job pays the most, but Changmin asked us personally to take this one, so how could we say no? The guy rarely ever asks us favors, and it was the least we could do.”

“That simple?”

“What? Did you want me to say that we wanted to meet you guys? I mean, it’s certainly a plus. Most of your team happen to be carbon copies of the same one who wants to kill us, so there’s that, we’re observing the ways you act, maybe it’ll help us in the future, maybe not. It’s like a two-way deal, you get your Traveler, and we get data.”

“Data,” Tony scoffs. “I can see why you’d come to that conclusion.”

“What can I say? It’s helpful. But, I can definitely say that we might be relieved of our duties soon, we’re technically here illegally, I’ll have you know,” you said to him. “We’re supposed to get official approval from the Secretary of Travel before jumping dimensions, but we’re not exactly law followers so we never did. But now that an official government team is on their way, hoo boy, my greatest rival is yet to come. Paperwork,” you made light of what would otherwise be a very very bad situation.

“I heard, so we get to meet the other Avengers.”

“Yup. And, let me tell you right now, they’re not the nicest people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just you wait until I tell you about them.”

~

The shadow amalgamate shattered into what it once was, scurrying back to their original positions, once Chenle had the wind knocked out of him by Lynx. He landed harshly on Jaemin, who then lost his balance and sent the two tumbling down to the first floor of the Sanctum.

“Sorry,” Chenle rolled off the top of Jaemin.

“It’s fine, call it even for the incident with the banshee.”

“Agreed, ugh, my head’s doing cartwheels…”

“Cartwheels? I feel like mine is being churned,” Jaemin holds his head. Chenle and Jaemin lay next to each other for a moment, trying to stop their spinning heads when someone stood over them.

“Are we bothering you, gentlemen?”

“Ugh, these fuckers are here,” Jaemin covered his eyes with his arms. “Tell me when they’re gone, Apollo.”

“That’s kind of mean,” Mark frowns. Jaemin moves his hand.

“Mark’s not a bad person, actually, Tony. I feel bad because I encouraged him to join the Avengers when they asked, but the other guys saw it as a complete betrayal. But he’s loyal, he doesn’t hate us and we don’t hate him, or at least I don’t.”

“Oh look! The traitor!” He lazily points at him. “Do you know how much shit we’ve been through since you left?”

“All the dishes we’ve had to wash?”

“V won’t even let us take your room because she thinks you’re coming back! You dumb traitor, what happened to our friendship bracelets, Mark?! Huh?!”

“You guys, don’t call me that, come on! Look I’m still wearing it!” Mark whines.

“Go away! You left us for your cooler friends who can legally blow things up, go! Go have fun with them!” Chenle points an accusing finger towards the speedster.

“Just leave them there,” Mark whispers.

“We’re looking for Strange,” a deeper voice says.

“Oh my god, is that Wong Yukhei?” Jaemin asks, his blurred vision not helping him at all. “You know, Vendetta has a cardboard cutout of you, I think she talks to it sometimes,” he laughs, his words slightly slurred as a result of the head damage received when he fell on the hard floors in the first place.

“Flattered,” Yukhei responds.

“Wong Yukhei, decorated soldier from the order of war and the first in the super-soldier experiments. Actually not a bad guy, but feels the need to flex his bravado every now and then because of the team he’s on, and honestly, I kind of relate to that.”

“The hatless wizard is somewhere upstairs,” Chenle points up and lets his arm drop to his side. “We’d help, but you guys look like one big ugly walrus right now.” Jaemin starts cracking up and the two high five.

“Do we have to work with them?” Another voice snapped.

“Li Yongqin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, Lee Youngheum, he has too many names to remember so people usually just call him Ten. He was a perfect student in the military academies, which I’m guessing where his nickname comes from. But he’s pretty impatient, rather ill-tempered from my experience."

“We don’t have a choice,” a more suave on this time.

“Ooh, Lee Taemin. He's an interesting one, Tony. We’re actually pretty close, or used to be at least. He’s very good at what he does, he has years of experience under his belt, but it’s pretty scary. He’s probably done his research by now, be careful, he knows you better than you know yourself. Don’t argue.”

“Gentlemen, let’s end this, we have clearance from the Seraph to exterminate the Followers,” a more powerful one.

“Oh, oh, Lee Taeyong! He’s great. I’ve seen him work a couple of times, I think he’s shot me in the head before. Don’t ask. I have a great deal of respect for him, but he’s kind of anti-social, not easy to get along with him, but I think it’s all miscommunication in the end. I think if we really got to know each other we’d hit it off, but otherwise, I think I’m just a person with a bounty on her head in his eyes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jaemin pushed himself up, his eyes finally focusing. “Exterminate? Yeah, you guys do that, but let the Maverick leave first, we don’t want to get caught up in your deathmatch again,” Jaemin hits the side of his head a few times.

“Where’s the Vendetta?”

“Not here! She left because Reaper was being a little bitch!” Jaemin laughs again and Chenle joins him.

“We’re wasting our time here with these idiots,” another person says. Chenle squints his eyes to make out the figure.

“Now there’s Kim Jongin, he’s one of the people who started the Avengers project and got them all together. He’s an indispensable member, in my opinion. But when you’re in a team with that many star-studded members who are constantly in the public eye, it’s easy to get lost in the lights. But he knows how to keep things according to itinerary.”

“Who are you again?” He asks. “I thought the Avengers only had six members,” he stifles back a laugh.

“Dude that’s low!” Jaemin cackles. Mark swallows down a laugh when Taemin looks over at him, both of them trying to be respectful to their teammate.

“I know that’s why I said it!” Chenle hits his teammate’s arm and Jaemin winces, but the two continue in their little circus.

“Forget them, let’s just go,” Jongin. The team ascends the steps.

“Enter, the Avengers,” Baekhyun smiles.

“And finally there’s their leader. Byun Baekhyun— yes, he’s my older brother, no we don’t talk, and I don’t think he even knows I’m alive. He’s similar to you in some aspects, he pays for all of their shit. But he’s manipulative. He knows how to get into your head. Be careful with him.”

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[dindjarindiaries]

Resist

summary: You’re Steve’s cousin and you have a secret relationship with Javier—which you know will be much to Steve’s distaste. (requested by anon)

note: translations included at the bottom

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

warnings: swearing (obviously), a little bit of fluff, angst? idk how to describe it

rating: R

word count: 3.872k

masterlist

“Javi!” you exclaim between kisses and giggles, pushing your boyfriend closer and closer towards your apartment door. “I’m—serious! You have—to go—before Steve—gets—suspicious.” You leave a firm and final kiss on his lips before pulling yourself away completely, still finding yourself trapped in Javier’s arms.

“Pero no quiero dejarte,” Javier mumbles, trying to convince you by planting fervent kisses down your neck.

“You’re… always there… well before us.” You struggle to get the words out, having to intermittently swallow the breaths of pleasure that try to escape your throat.

“Puedo decir que me desperté tarde.” Javier pulls away but leaves his face just inches from yours, looking deep into your eyes with his alluring dark gaze.

Damn, he’s good at this.

“Usa tu inglés.” You earn a chuckle at that. “They can’t be suspicious, Javi—especially Steve. He’ll kill us.”

“He’ll kill me,” Javier corrects you, causing you to scoff at him. You swallow that sound right back when Javier pulls your body tight against his, smiling down at you. “But it would be worth it.” He leans down to kiss you once more before pulling away. “I’ll go just to make sure we can have more of a future.”

You smile up at him, momentarily losing yourself in his dark pools of affection. “Muchas gracias, mi amor. Te veré pronto. Te amo.” You run a hand over his cheek as you speak.

“Adios, amada. Te amo mucho.” Javier leaves a soft kiss on your forehead before he pulls away from you completely, opening your apartment door and closing it quietly. You secure it behind him, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath and let your smile persist.

You haven’t been this happy in so long—but there’s limitations. The thing is, the embassy would not be as happy to know you and one of your DEA partners are dating. And Steve, well… it was going to be hard to convince your closest cousin that you and Javier made a good couple.

You and Steve had grown up very close together, and he was the closest thing you had to a brother. It’s how you both ended up in the same career field. You trained together, confided in each other, and you even worked together—when Steve’s partner got killed. You and Connie were his main sources of strength during that time, and so, naturally, Steve asked you to come to Colombia with him when he was reassigned. You were hesitant at first, but you agreed, and you soon found yourself living right down the hall from him in a Colombian apartment building.

A building in which you soon discovered your other new partner lived: Javier Peña. As utterly handsome as you thought the man was, your first impression of him was… not extremely flattering. Steve had warned you about his tactics, and you could easily see how he operated like that. The man oozed sex appeal, from the tight shirts he wore to the excessive buttons he left open on his chest. Not that you had noticed or stared at those details perhaps a few moments longer than necessary. Still, it’s not like you were one to make judgments on his love life—or lack thereof. His gruff responses and know-it-all nature were enough to make you extremely wary of him.

Long story short, you got to know him much better—thanks to encouragement from Connie, who invited the two of you to many events to force you to actually interact with him—and you soon found yourself falling for more than just his physical appearance. You noted the way he deeply cared about not only his job, but the people, and how he always put everyone’s safety first. He became especially protective over you, beginning to stick closer by your side on any outside ventures and offering to accompany you whenever you had to go somewhere outside the embassy or your apartment.

It happened on a day when you hadn’t read the weather forecast. You’d needed to do some grocery shopping, and as you were leaving your building, Javier caught you and asked if you wanted a companion. You agreed, craving his presence at that point, and found yourself lost in conversation with him the entire trip. Soon after you’d finished your shopping, thunder had rumbled in the distance, and rain followed it quickly. With no jacket and no umbrella, you found yourself completely vulnerable to the harsh rainfall—but Javier wouldn’t accept that. He’d taken off his own jacket and given it to you, holding your bags for you so that you could hold the jacket over your head. By the time you’d gotten back to the apartment building, you were semi-dry, and Javier was soaked. You felt terrible, and you offered to have him over for some soup and coffee once he’d gotten himself dried off. Of course, he obliged.

That gesture alone had told you that Javier likely felt the same way about you that you felt about him, and so it wasn’t a surprise that after your dinner conversation had sidetracked greatly, you somehow came to the topic of what’d happened. The feelings came out—on both ends, surprisingly for you—and you found yourselves making out on your couch soon after. Javier had promised to wait for more as soon as you were ready and had also promised that as long as he had you, he was done rendezvousing with his informants. You’d also agreed that absolutely no one could know, especially Steve—who was still skeptical about Javier as far as his personal life went.

Now, it’s been months, and you’ve somehow kept your relationship successfully under wraps. Sleepovers are a regular thing for you both, typically at your apartment—since Javier’s was directly under Steve’s—and you try to get Javier out for work at the usual early time he shows up so no one suspects anything. If you arrive together, it’ll just be obvious that you’re operating on the same schedule. Also, Javier’s been teaching you more Spanish, so that you can speak to him around Steve and Connie and not have them pick up anything too obvious. Since Steve’s Spanish is shit, you find yourselves communicating easily without fear of him finding out what you’re saying. It’s all been working perfectly, but you know the secret can’t last forever.

Steve’s been acting a bit different around you two, now. You try to act as natural as you can when you go out with him, Connie, and Javier, but you can’t help wondering if he can sometimes see yours and Javier’s hands entwined underneath the tablecloths, or the two of you hiding in the dark corners of the bars to dance together. He’s been asking you a lot of questions about your life outside of work, more than usual, and you’re beginning to run out of excuses. You always tell each other everything, and so you also feel a pang of guilt for not telling him about a major part of your life. But you know it wouldn’t be good for anybody if he found out, so you continue keeping it to yourself.

You think of all of this as you exchange one of Javier’s shirts you’ve been wearing for an appropriate work outfit, humming one of Javier’s favorite songs under your breath as you get ready. You find yourself going faster than usual, already missing Javier’s presence. The room still smells of him, a scent you pick up especially when you finish making the bed. It’s a strong smell of his cologne mixed with a touch of smoke, and you find it intoxicating. You can’t help laughing a bit to yourself at the way you’re thinking and acting. You hadn’t imagined in a million years that you’d be head-over-heels for the man the day you met him.

You’re ready a few minutes earlier than usual, but nevertheless, you find Steve waiting for you when you walk out of your apartment. He jingles the keys in his hands, giving you a nod before you walk out of the building together. He always drives you over to the embassy, since it’s your chance to have some conversation before the workday begins. It’s just another one of the many reasons why you have to kick Javier out of your apartment so early every day.

Your drive begins in silence, but it’s soon broken by Steve as he does a double take over at you. “Hey, you dressin’ to impress today or what?” His question is accompanied by a scoff, and you look down at your outfit to see what he’s getting at. You curse mentally as you observe that, because he was all you could think about throughout your morning routine, you had subconsciously dressed to impress Javier. Your three-quarter-sleeve button-up’s one of your tighter-fitting selections, the first few buttons exposing just enough to leave any observant man satisfied at the sight. The dangling pendant necklace that Javier had gifted you doesn’t help to avert anyone’s gaze from the sight, either. Your pants also fit tightly, but that’s your typical style, so you don’t think too much of it. “And I don’t think I’ve seen that necklace before. Where’d ya’ get it?”

“I found it at a marketplace,” you inform him, bullshitting as best as you can. “And this is one of my only clean shirts right now. Maybe it’ll help us get someone to tell us something.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as he stares at the road. “No, I don’t want people to use you like that.” He looks over at you again. “Especially—.”

“I know, Steve, I know.” Your words come out in an exasperated sigh as you roll your eyes. “Don’t worry. I feel the same way.” It almost pains you to say the words.

“Well, hopefully he does, too, ‘cause he’s been looking awful suspicious to me lately.”

You try your hardest to keep your expression from changing at his words. “What do you mean?”

“Javi hasn’t gotten any information. Haven’t you picked up on that?”

You crease your brow, feigning confusion. “And?”

“And? Where does he usually get his information from?” Steve looks over at you upon hearing your silence, and all you can offer him is a shrug.

“Maybe he’s just… sick of being used and using people.”

Steve scoffs. “Javier? Being sick of gettin’ laid? Not a chance.”

You look over at him in a frustrated manner. “Then what do you think he’s up to, Steve?”

Steve shrugs, releasing a sigh as he stares at the streets ahead of him. “Honestly, I don’t have a goddamn clue. But… I’m afraid he might like you.”

You choke on air, trying your best to transform your panicked reaction into a surprised one. “Like me? Steve, you’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious. Connie thinks so, too.”

You chuckle, crossing your arms as you look out of the window. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“This is Javier Peña we’re talking about. You think he could ever give into feelings like that, especially for a coworker?”

Steve’s silent for a few moments, and when you look over at him, you can see that you’ve won the battle—for now. “Well, either way, I’m still cautious. Just… be careful, alright? You never know what he’s gonna do.”

Oh, I know full and well what he does. You manage to keep the retort in your head as you nod instead, resisting the urge to take a breath of relief as you and Steve park at the embassy. You head inside in silence, hoping that the stress of the conversation goes away. Yet, as excited as you are to see Javier again, you know it’s only going to make you think of everything Steve’s just said—and that stress won’t go away easily.

As soon as you and Steve are in sight of your tri-desk setup, you can see Javier look up from where he’s been sorting through some files. His eyes light up at the sight of you, and he holds back a smile with difficulty. This is something that only you, hopefully, can notice. You also notice that his eyes drift down a bit as they look at you, and you try not to let your cheeks heat up as you remember what your shirt is revealing.

“Eyes up, Peña,” Steve quips, causing your blood to run cold for a moment.

Javier scoffs, shrugging as he gestures with his head towards you. “Then tell her the same thing for me.”

You chuckle, punching Javier’s shoulder playfully as you sit at your desk. “Don’t flatter yourself like that, Javi. I was just making sure you actually wore a shirt to work today.”

You can hear Steve snort in amusement, and as soon as his attention is averted, Javier sends you a sly wink. You shake your head at him, looking down at the work you left on your desk for yourself yesterday. A few minutes go by, during which you try to forget the ever-present tension between you, your cousin, and your boyfriend. It’s all spent in silence, but it’s suddenly interrupted by Javier’s phone ringing. He picks it up, and you try not to stare at him as he talks. He hangs up quickly, directing his next words at Steve.

“Murphy, Messina needs you for a few minutes,” Javier informs your partner.

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Did she say why?”

Javier shakes his head. “Probably somethin’ I’m not allowed to know.”

Steve chuckles, rising from his desk with a sigh. “Wish me luck.” He then walks off in the direction of Messina’s office. Javier immediately looks at you, his dark eyes sparkling. A smile begins to tug at your lips.

“Agent, I’ve got something you should see,” Javier says, gesturing with his head towards one of the vacant soundproof offices near you. “I’ll show Murphy when he gets back.” He stands up, grabbing a random file folder and beginning to walk in that direction. You follow him, attempting to bite back your smile as you walk.

As soon as the office door is secured behind you, the folder’s tossed lazily on the desk and Javier’s mouth is on yours, and you laugh into the kiss as you find yourself trapped between him and the wall. He pulls away soon after, giving you a smile. You can’t help returning it, feeling elated to see him so joyful after all the dark shit he and you have both seen recently.

“You have no idea how excited I am to see you, querida,” Javier mumbles, his gaze drifting down as his hands crawl up your sides. “And it looks like you wanted to make me extra excited, huh?”

You let out a small laugh, using one of your hands to tilt his chin back up to look at you. “It wasn’t exactly intentional,” you tell him. “But it was you.” You use that hand to brush your thumb across his cheek. “And it’s nice to see you too, amado.”

Javier’s smile persists, and you see a flash of it before he wraps his arms completely around you, burying his face in the nape of your neck. “No quiero trabajar hoy, amada. Quiero pasar todo mi tiempo contigo.”

“What did I tell you about your inglés, Javier?” you tease, running a hand over his hair. He chuckles, tickling your skin at the sensation of it. You let out a sigh, resting your chin on his head as you think of your drive to the embassy. “We gotta be careful, Javi.”

“Why?” Javier’s question is gruff, but he still leaves his head where it is.

“Steve was talking to me on the way here. He said that he thinks you like me, and he’s suspicious of you.”

Javier finally lifts his head at that, smirking at you. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

You shake your head, trying to hold back a chuckle. “I’m serious, amor. He could be onto us soon if we’re not careful.”

Javier sighs, stepping back and taking both of your hands in his. “I know. I’m trying my best. It’s just… so hard to resist you, amada.”

You give his hands a squeeze. “I feel the same way. But, remember, for our future.”

Javier nods to agree, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek before he begins to walk back out of the office. He picks up the folder on the way, returning to his desk as if nothing’s just happened. You do the same, and thankfully, you’re able to make it last throughout the workday. It’s a slow day, anyway, and so much of it is just spent flipping through files and trying to see if you can come up with any new intel.

You finally feel free by the time you’re back to your apartment. Steve drops you off with a quick embrace, insisting that he would’ve offered to take you out with him and Connie, had she not been so exhausted from her own workday. You assure him that it’s alright—you already have plans with Javier anyway, though you keep that to yourself—and you’re soon practically skipping around your apartment. You get comfortable, slipping that shirt of Javier’s back on and releasing your hair from where it’s been pulled back all day.

Soon, you’re stepping back out into the main part of your apartment, and you’re about to crack open a fresh bottle of wine for you and your boyfriend when you hear muffled commotion coming from downstairs. Panic climbs inside of you, and you hurry over to the door. You press your ear against it to listen for what’s happening.

There’s a vicious knocking against one of the downstairs apartments. It’s soon followed by a harsh, “Open the fuck up, Peña!” You wrinkle your brow at the sound of it. Steve? Why the hell is he bothering Javier so aggressively?

You hear the knocking stop, and you assume the door’s been opened as a new voice appears. “Murphy? What the hell—” Javier tries to ask.

“What the fuck, Javi?” Steve yells, and you hear a thud as if something’s been shoved into a wall. “What are you doing with her?” Your eyes widen at the obvious reference to you.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Murphy?” Javier tries his best to retort with confusion. “I haven’t done anything with her!”

“You’re a shit liar, Peña!” Steve laughs almost maniacally, and you hear another thud. “You haven’t done anything, huh? Then why do you stare her down every day? Why are you bringing her into the office so often? And why did my wife see you come out of her apartment this morning?”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Oh shit.

“Steve—.”

“She’s like my sister, Javi! What the hell is wrong with you?” Your eyes are widened to twice their usual size, and before you can think more about it you whip open the door of your apartment. You rush down to Javier’s apartment, seeing the door still open as Steve pins Javier against the wall of his small entryway. He’s too angry to notice your sudden presence, and Javier’s too busy trying to rack his brain for excuses to notice you, either. “She’s not one of your whores! She’s like goddamn family to me!” He pauses, grabbing Javier’s collar with both of his hands as he hisses the next question. “Are you just fucking her, Peña?”

“No, Steve!” you interject, catching both men off guard as you break them apart. “Calm the fuck down!”

Steve starts saying your name, but stops himself when he observes your outfit, his eyes darkening even more. “Is that… Javi’s shirt?”

You let out a breath, raising your chin a bit as you nod at him. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Steve nearly gapes at you, his brow raising in disbelief. “What the hell is going on?”

You look over at Javier, seeing his dark eyes widened at you. Your lips curve up into a smile as you step closer to him, reaching for one of his hands and securing it in yours. You then look back at Steve. “We’re together, Steve.”

Steve’s speechless for a few moments, looking as if he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him. “You two? Together? What…” He trails off, evidently at a loss for words. You look back over at Javier, seeing his slight nervousness at the situation. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze before looking back over at Steve. “How long?”

You swallow hard. “Almost four months.”

“Four months?” Steve’s voice comes out almost like a squeak. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he runs his hand over his hair. “Damn. I can’t believe you two managed to hide this for four months.”

“To be fair, you were just starting to get suspicious,” you say, causing him to laugh a bit more comfortably.

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve then sighs, looking between the two of you with just a hint of happiness. “Sorry, Javi, I guess I was a little harsh on you. As long as you make her happy.”

Javier nods earnestly at his partner. “Of course, Murphy.”

Steve then narrows his eyes at him. “But if you ever hurt her, Javi, I swear to God—.”

“Steve,” you hiss, raising an eyebrow in warning. “It’ll be fine.”

He lifts his hands in surrender, stepping further away from the two of you. “Alright, alright, I’m just sayin’.” Steve pauses again, looking between the two of you with a growing smile. “Damn, I can’t believe it was her who got you to crack, Javi.”

Javier shrugs. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”

You scoff, turning around to slap his shoulder with your free hand. “¡Pendejo!”

Javier laughs, and you see Steve chuckling a bit. “Well, I’ll leave you two to… um…” Steve trails off, as if he can’t conceive of what you could possibly be doing. You and Javier laugh as he stumbles out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

You let out a heavy sigh, facing Javier fully again. “Holy shit, that was terrifying. Are you okay?”

Javier smiles down at you. “I thought Steve was gonna try to beat my ass, but you saved me. So, yes, I’m okay.”

You return his smile. “Good.” You reach for his other hand, giving them both a squeeze as your smile persists. “Well, I’ve got a brand-new bottle of wine upstairs, and I know we could both use some right now.”

Javier pulls you against him, holding your waist delicately as he brings his face close to yours. “All I need is you, amada.”

You shake your head at him, brushing your lips against his as you speak. “Eres demasiado encantador, amado. Te amo.” You press your mouth fully against his, letting the overwhelming feeling of affection and pleasure run through you before Javier pulls away.

“Te amo más, amada.”

translations:

Pero no quiero dejarte = But I don’t want to leave you

Puedo decir que me desperté tarde = I can say that I woke up late

Usa tu inglés = Use your English

Muchas gracias, mi amor. Te veré pronto. Te amo. = Thank you so much, my love. I’ll see you soon. I love you.

Adios, amada. Te amo mucho. = Goodbye, sweetheart. I love you so much.

querida = dear

No quiero trabajar hoy, amada. Quiero pasar todo mi tiempo contigo. = I don’t want to work today, sweetheart. I want to spend all my time with you.

¡Pendejo! = Asshole!

Eres demasiado encantador, amado. Te amo. = You’re too charming, sweetheart. I love you.

Te amo más, amada. = I love you more, sweetheart.

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, lesson 4: Power and its price

Lyssa’s presence changed our day-to-day slightly, about one hour before meals the witch would ask one of us to do chores such as looking for food(I was more adept at gathering, roots and fruit, while Lyssa had an easier time hunting), and she would use the time to teach the other one.

What made me curious was that from what I’d seen, we were not being taught the same things, while I had by this point been Morgana’s apprentice for a few months and she’d taught me next to nothing about combat, though she’d given me a knife, mostly for cutting ingredients, I had yet to touch a sword. Meanwhile Lyssa was already about as good of a swordsman as any from my home town, though she’d prefered to use two shortswords instead of the witch’s one.

When asked about this during one of my own lessons, My master, her unequivocal tone giving an impression closer to a consultation with an ancient goddess than a questioning of a human teacher, told me “When you asked me to take you on, did you ask for my power? Was your wish to match me as a fighter, or as a scholar? What you begged me for was wisdom, so that’s what I am attempting to give you, knowledge of the properties of all sorts of natural and supernatural, one day you shall be able to see as deeply or more than I am into the forces most struggle to even comprehend. However, I am myself a multi-faceted creature, and what Lyssa needs from me isn’t the knowledge you crave, that won’t help her protect herself from greed, hate and weapons from people whose reason for attacking her can’t be circumvented without fighting back. Right now, she needs to become a warrior, she wants to become a guardian, so her mastery of the blade is more important than that over the land. Of course I want to have you know how to defend yourself and her know how to use subtler methods than swordfighting, but it is better to prioritize.”

While I took in her explanation, her expression softened as she sat down close to the fire and ushered me to do the same. She took a deep breath, then spoke once more “It is good that you asked me that, it reminded me of something I feel I should tell you, and I’ll explain later why I do not plan on doing the same for Lyssa yet,” she stared into the flames, “It’s about how I got these hands, and the power they hold.”

“I grew up in the village of Krymmen, a place that no longer exists, outside of the reach of the duke that owns this tenure, I do not know how  much you’ve heard about him, maybe less than I, since I assume his rule is all you’ve known, but the common way of doing things here and now hasn’t always existed. Where I was born there was no use for silver and gold except for fighting werewolves and making accessories, there was enough food and housing for all of us and all who contributed to the community had access to it. My function, much as it is now, was to protect people from supernatural threats and their effects on body and mind.”

“One day, emissaries from “duke Louis of Drakenguard”  appeared, we hosted our visitors well, interested in what knowledge they could have to share with us. But they were measuring us up, learning about our defenses and armed forces, making sure they could easily destroy us. They came back, with numbers and weapons, an emergency exodus was declared. Me and my comrades stayed behind to hold them back, we were fierce fighters, but there were too many of them, we drove them back, just barely, but I was the only survivor, and it would not be long before they caught up with the civilians after the next wave was done with me.

“So I got desperate,” she clenched her fist, “There was a legend in Krymmen, about a cave from which none who ventured returned, the stories told of a slumbering dragon, at least as large as an elephant and as smart as a person, I headed to the cave, planning to beg the beast to protect the people who had coexisted with it for all of our centuries long history.

“Once I arrived, I was awed by the creature’s bright red scales, gigantic wings and terrifying maw. However its eyes surprised me most of all, they were orange and slitted like those of a crocodile, but they regarded me  with such superiority, curious interest at best, like how a man may look at a cat. It gave me time to say my piece, but seemed to disregard it entirely, instead lazily turning to my sword and offering it’s own proposal. It’s deep grumble echoing through the cave’s chambers.

“I have no intention of concerning myself with the squabbles between you pitiful creatures. Still, I can feel some fire within you, if you wish for my assistance, prove to me you are worthy of my time,” it stood from the pile of bone and discarded armor where it sat, “If you are capable of landing a single blow upon my flesh, I shall grant you a morsel of my power.”

“For many moments it was all I could do to stand frozen still, its glare made it clear that the moment I moved forward, that could be the end of my life, still it was my only chance to protect the Krymmen people, and if my comrades could give their life for that before, so could I now. I started to dash forward, but the dragon’s claw was even faster than I could expect, I did my best to deflect it with my blade, but the force from the clash still sent me rolling over the ground. The dragon simply raised its head and looked down on me as I scrambled back onto my feet, as if waiting for me to continue the challenge it had issued. I felt as if it had held back on the last strike, trying to bring the most out of me, and to be honest, it made me furious, I was determined to prove the power of humanity.

“I sprinted forward, goading it into striking before quickly stepping back, then dashing ahead once more, It’s next attack I evaded by rolling behind a rock, using it for cover by crouching. The beast lowered its head, and I beheld it open it’s enormous jaws and a bright orange flame gather inside it, too wide to dodge to the side and too powerful for my stone cover to protect me. In a final desperate gambit I climbed onto the rock and, as it approached to launch its attack. I lept towards it, plunging my blade onto its snout with a fierce battlecry.

  “The sword pierced only a few centimeters through  my foe’s scales, but it ceased its fire breathing, and for a few instants, we were both so still we could only hear the dimm whistle of the wind through the cave. I saw the dragon stare towards me with something entirely foreign in its eyes, recognition, perhaps even respect. It lowered me gently to the floor, backing away as I pulled my blade from its snout.

“Very well,”said the dragon, “you’ve proved yourself tenacious and brave beyond any human I’ve seen before. I shall offer you a magnanimous offer, accept the pact, and you will be given power over the most powerful element in creation. The flames that herald both oblivion and rebirth, there is but one condition.

“Though after such an arduous trial almost nothing could deter me from accepting, I still asked “What is the condition?”

“The dragon explained, “You will yourself become forever bound to the changing winds and the flicker of the flames. If you ever fall idle, without a mission or destination, the very powers you will be given shall turn agains you, destroying your body”

“I nodded, accepting these terms, “Very well,” spoke the dragon, “extend your arms, and the pact will be sealed,” I did as I was told, and did not back down, even when the beast opened its maw wide, waiting for a moment, as if precisely measuring  its position. Before snapping its jaws closed in but a split second. I felt immense pain, like my arms had been cut in half, before a powerful burning sensation accompanied by the same orange light Inside the dragon’s mouth I’d seen before. I clenched my teeth so as not to scream, and in a few seconds, the dragon released my arms, satisfied, revealing that, from the forearm down, my arms were now as black and hard as coal, and I could feel heat like never before emanating from them.

“You’ve risen closer to a dragon than most could ever hope, the last thing I have to give you is my name. Names have power, child, so when you wish to use your new power, remember the name Gorchfygwr and all flames shall obey you.” The dragon explained.

The witch clapped her hands and turned to me. “And that’s how I got these hands, I apologize for not telling you sooner, but I needed to be sure to not give information about the source of my power to someone who would get themselves killed trying to obtain them, or worse, who would be able to gain this sort of power and use it for evil. In time I learned more about pacts like these, they are the main way for humans to obtain power beyond our physical limitations, but, and you may consider this your fourth lesson, power always has a price, and with time I learned the dragon had truly been relatively generous with mine, likely because he had gotten his entertainment out of testing me first. Some creatures, like demons and fae may cause their lords to lose their minds or commit atrocities they could never imagine.”

I nodded in agreement. “I understand. There are some questions I wish to ask, if you’ll pardon my curiosity, What did you do after sealing your pact? Did you face the duke’s armies once again? And why did you not want Lyssa to know this story?” for all that her fierceness had unnerved me initialy, my “colleague” did certainly seem to have good motives, more surprisingly, she was gentler than I’d imagined, never once commenting on my obvious lack of strenght when compared to her and offering to guard me from possible dangerous animals when searching for food.

Morgana sighed and turned back towards the fire. “I killed them, I went back into my ruined village and I slaughtered wave after wave of those soldiers until the futility of expecting them to stop coming solidified in my mind. By now there was no way they’d catch up to what remained of my people, there was no longer any reason for fighting. I felt so purposeless I just… wandered. Eventually I learned that I could use the skills from my old profession to earn a living and help people still, and memorized the optimal routes I could use to travel from town to town.”

She continued, her head hung low, betraying a fatigue I hadn’t before seen. “I’ve been doing this for years, familiar, long enough to obtain a large arsenal of magic not as powerful as what I received from the pact, that’s how I could make you my familiar. In some way I feel I’ve been delaying an inevitable direct conflict with the duke, I mean, look at Lyssa! aren’t I one of the only people with a chance to stop this for good? As for why I’ve avoided informing Lyssa of the source of my flames, I have no doubt her reasons for fighting are good, but with her current fervor, I fear she may seek out a patron before she’s ready and put herself and others in danger, although I have a feeling she may inevitably attract the interest of one by living the eventful life she is currently seeking. It is a difficult balance I am attempting to strike, too soon and her haste may be her doom, too late and she won’t be aware of the consequences when she receives an offer.”

I was a bit hesitant to question my master’s judgement, but still I couldn’t help but ask “don’t you feel you should put a little more trust in her prudence?”

She turned to me and smiled. “That may be so, still It’s best to be cautious. Thank you for telling me this. It’s part of a familiar’s function to council the witch in times of decision. Now scram, you, I see Lyssa coming back and we’re gonna need some fresh water from that creek to cook the hares she brought,” she waved me away gently.

As I walked away, Lyssa greeted me, her muscles had been steadily growing more defined as she’d been training for combat, I also noticed she’d been binding her breasts recently and respected her commitment to agility. “Hey… cat, can I call you cat?” she asked, a bit embarassed, to which I smiled and nodded in agreement, “alright, cat, did Morgana say anything about me? I haven’t exactly been apprentice to a witch before, and she did tell me a familiar is something different, but you’re my best point of  comparison and I’d like to know if I’ve been doing well.”She seemed excited to compare our experiences, and I felt a pang of guilt about witholding some information from her.

“Don’t worry, she’s very impressed with your growth, thinks you’ll soon be a match for her at this rate, though your parry could use some work.” I answered, and it was true, despite me omitting the witch’s concerns about her impetuosity. “Now get going, master’s waiting for you and she doesn’t like to wait. .” I told her, continuing my towards the creek.

“You too.” She said, and I could tell my answer had made her happy.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Daenerys Targaryen & Varda Elentári

This post is more for my own pleasure than anything, as someone who loves both Dany and Varda. It basically sums up the similarities and/or parallels that I see between the two characters. Anyone else who has anything to add is free to do so.

[Source]

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Known as the Queen of the Stars and the Star-Kindler, among other titles, Varda is the queen of all of Arda, a planet of the universe Eä created by Eru, the Creator and All-Father, which the Valar and many of the Ainur inhabit. She is the wife of Manwë and considered one of the most powerful beings in the entirety of the Tolkien universe. Varda is intensely beloved by the elves especially due to the fact that she created the stars. It’s said that she’s so beautiful that she can’t be described in words, and that the light of Eru shines from her face.

Not much is known about Varda personally, as the direct appearances that she makes in Tolkien’s works are few. Off the top of my head, I can only recall her being mentioned in person in The Unfinished Tales and The Silmarillion. In all other instances, she is only prayed to, but one can get a pretty good understanding of just how revered she is.

The following is a Sindarin poem directed to Varda, A Elbereth Gilthoniel, by the elves, which they were heard by Frodo saying as they departed to the Undying lands.

Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear! O Queen beyond the Western Seas!  O Light to us that wander here  Amid the world of woven trees! 

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth! Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath! Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee In a far land beyond the Sea. 

O stars that in the Sunless Year With shining hand by her were sawn, In windy fields now bright and clear We see your silver blossom blown! 

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! We still remember, we who dwell In this far land beneath the trees, Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

—The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring

With a basic idea of who Varda is, let’s get into the similarities between the two. Some of these are likely just a coincidence, but I find it fun to explore anyway. 

Beautiful

This one is the shallowest, and the easiest to draw comparisons when it comes to the two characters. Varda is said to be unbelievably beautiful:

With Manwë dwells Varda, Lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä. Too great is her beauty to be declared in the words of Men or of Elves; for the light of Ilúvatar lives still in her face.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

Dany, too, is extremely beautiful, described as some to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

Her silver shied as the merchant prince Xaro Xhoan Daxos rode up to her; the horses could not abide the close presence of camels, she had found. "If you see here anything that you would desire, O most beautiful of women, you have only to speak and it is yours," Xaro called down from his ornate horned saddle. 

—A Clash of Kings, Daenerys II

The most beautiful woman in the world, thought Quentyn. My bride-to-be, if the gods are good. Sometimes at night he lay awake imagining her face and form, and wondering why such a woman would ever want to marry him, of all the princes in the world. I am Dorne, he told himself. She will want Dorne.

—A Dance with Dragons, The Merchant’s Man

Granted, many times, people are trying to flatter Daenerys when calling her that. Nevertheless, Valyrians are known for their otherworldly beauty, and Dany is also undoubtedly beautiful. 

Good judges of character

I can confidently say that Varda is also probably quite a good judge of character. Before any of the other Ainur, she was able to see the darkness of Melkor, a Satan-like figure in the Tolkien mythos who was once the most powerful Vala but rebelled against Eru out of pride and became Morgoth. Thus, Varda distrusted Melkor, rejected an offer that he made to her, and Melkor was said to see her as his greatest rival. 

Out of the deeps of Eä she came to the aid of Manwë; for Melkor she knew from before the making of the Music and rejected him, and he hated her, and feared her more than all others whom Eru made.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

This is pretty impressive, considering that it’s possible that at the time referenced, when Varda “knew” Melkor, even Melkor didn’t know that he was heading down a path of evil. Yet Varda could see the darkness inside him. Besides, Melkor is said to be very good at deception, so the fact that Varda could see through this is a testament to her skill in gauging other people. 

Dany is also a good judge of character. At just thirteen, she’s able to see through much of Illyrio’s flattery and lies when her significantly older brother Viserys was unable to:

"They are your people, and they love you well," Magister Illyrio said amiably. "In holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water." He gave a massive shrug. "Or so my agents tell me."

Dany had no agents, no way of knowing what anyone was doing or thinking across the narrow sea, but she mistrusted Illyrio's sweet words as she mistrusted everything about Illyrio. Her brother was nodding eagerly, however. "I shall kill the Usurper myself," he promised, who had never killed anyone, "as he killed my brother Rhaegar. And Lannister too, the Kingslayer, for what he did to my father."

—A Game of Thrones, Daenerys I

She’s also aware that people are much more treacherous than depicted in the books she reads:

"I'm cold," Dany lied. "Bring me the book I was reading last night." She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

—A Storm of Swords, Daenerys VI

Opposition to evil

Significantly, Varda’s realm of power is the light:

With Manwë dwells Varda, Lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä. Too great is her beauty to be declared in the words of Men or of Elves; for the light of Ilúvatar lives still in her face. In light is her power and her joy.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

Other titles for Varda, besides Queen of the Stars, include Snow-White, Lady of the Stars, and Star-Kindler. There’s an obvious association with light here, especially because stars are the most beloved form of light by the elves, not to mention the earliest sources of light in Arda. 

Melkor, meanwhile, being the overarching villain of the entire Tolkien universe, is associated heavily with darkness. 

Last of all is set the name of Melkor, He who arises in Might. But that name he has forfeited; and the Noldor, who among the Elves suffered most from his malice, will not utter it, and they name him Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World.

—The Silmarillion, Valaquenta

Other titles for Melkor include The Black Foe, The Corrupter, The Marrer, The First Dark Lord, and Lord of the Dark. It’s pretty glaringly obvious how strongly Tolkien meant for us to picture him as being the embodiment of darkness. 

This places the quite literally brilliant Varda in direct opposition with him in terms of their elements. In other words, she is heavily associated with and symbolizes something that is the very antithesis of everything the main evil of Tolkien’s works is associated with. 

Just like Varda is heavily associated with light, Dany is heavily associated with fire. It is the element of her house, but beyond that, it’s a personal element for her.

They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany's head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. "Ours is the house of the dragon," he would say. "The fire is in our blood."

—A Game of Thrones, Daenerys I

No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

—A Game of Thrones, Daenerys X

Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind. "Mother!" they cried. "Mother, mother!" They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them...

—A Clash of Kings, Daenerys IV

Especially in the above quote, Daenerys is the embodiment of the fire, as acknowledged when she gives “herself” to the slaves that need “the fire”. In addition, fire as life is an ongoing theme in the A Song of Ice and Fire series. It’s shown above in the quote by “the fire, the life”. And the force in direct opposition to the fire is the ice, the cold, the death, which also stands for the undead, who are the main antagonists of the series. 

The real enemy is the cold.

—A Game of Thrones, Prologue

Similarly to how Varda, light, symbolically stands in opposition to Melkor, darkness, Daenerys stands in opposition to the Others, death, thanks to her association with fire, life. Their positions as important, central figures of goodness and hope are expressed through their association to certain elements which contrasts them directly with the elements that the great evils of their respective series are associated with. 

[emospritelet]

Pixie Dust - Final Chapter

Well, this is it. The end. Thank you to everyone who has commented on this fic and has left kudos or sent me asks on tumblr. You all rock.

I have loved writing this story, and I love these incarnations of Gold and Belle. This may be the only version of them that I've written where all the angst in their relationship comes from outside sources rather than their own stupidity and lack of communication. I think they deserve a happy ending, so here it is.

AO3 link

Gold woke in the middle of the night, his leg causing him enough pain to steal his breath, and he scrabbled at the nightstand for his painkillers, knocking over the glass of water Belle had set there.

“Shit!”

There was a rustle of bedclothes beside him, and Belle’s lamp turned on, filling the room with warm light.

“What’s up?” she asked sleepily.

“I need my bloody pills and I just threw the sodding water everywhere!” he said, pain and irritation making him snappish, and he could sense her rolling her eyes.

“Let me get you some.”

“I can do it!” he insisted, sliding his legs out of the bed, and Belle’s firm hand came down on his shoulder.

“I’m sure you could,” she said evenly.  “But it would be quicker if I do it, now wouldn’t it?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already up, trotting to the bathroom with a speed and grace that made him scowl.  She returned in a trice, a glass of water in her hands, and raised an eyebrow at him.  Gold ran a hand over his face with a sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Just take your pills and stop being an idiot,” she said, not unkindly.

He sighed again, but opened the bottle of pills, swallowing two and drinking them down with water.  Belle got back into bed, kneeling up behind him and rubbing his shoulders with a soothing motion.  He set down the glass, letting his head roll back with a sigh, and she kissed the top of his head.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Pain’s making you cranky, hmm?” she said knowingly.

“It’s bloody agony,” he agreed.  “And - and this is bloody frustrating!  I can’t even get up for a bloody piss without needing the damn crutches!”

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly.  “I guess it’ll take some getting used to, that’s all.”

“I don’t like that you’re having to wait on me hand and foot!” he added, and felt her smile against his hair.

“Maybe I could get a sexy maid’s outfit,” she suggested.  “That could make things interesting.”

He snorted in amusement, and she giggled, kissing him again.

“We’ll be okay,” she said.  “In a few months’ time the cast will come off and you won’t have to use the chair or the crutches at all.”

He slipped his legs back into the bed, settling back against the pillows, and Belle flicked off the light and snuggled into his side, sliding an arm across his chest.

“It won’t be the same though, will it?” he said quietly, the darkness giving him courage to voice his fears.  “I won’t be able to walk unaided.  We won’t be able to dance, or—”

“We’ll be able to dance just fine,” she said firmly.  “Okay, so you won’t be doing the jive, but I never thought rock n’ roll was your thing anyway.”

He chuckled at that.

“Maybe slow-dancing then.”

“All the better for me.”

She glanced up at him with a grin, eyes gleaming in the darkness, and he kissed her gently.

“I thought I might go up to the school tomorrow,” he said.  “Just to say hello.  I don’t start back until next week, but it would be good practice with the chair.”

“D’you want me to come with you?”

He hesitated, but shook his head.

“No no, I’d rather do it myself.”

Belle stroked his chest with gentle fingers.

“I - I thought I might go to Boston,” she said tentatively.  “The rest of my things are still at Gaston’s place, and I’m supposed to collect them under the terms of the divorce.”

“Right.”  He was silent for a moment.  “Are - are you sure you want to do that?  Couldn’t you send someone else?”

“Carrie’s said she’d come with me,” she said.  “And Dove.  And yes, I think I do need to go myself.  I think - I think it would be closure, you know?”

“Right.”  He could understand that, certainly.  “When will you leave?”

“First thing after breakfast,” she said.  “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.  Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her.  “I’ll explore Storybrooke and complain loudly about the lack of disabled access in every establishment until someone loses patience.”

Belle giggled again.

“I can see you’re gonna be the most popular person in Storybrooke,” she teased.

“No change there, then.”

Belle fretted a little over leaving him alone, but as Gold had assured her that he would be fine, and she had brought down whatever he needed from upstairs, she tried not to worry.  She left him drinking coffee in the kitchen, with a hurried kiss to the cheek and a promise to call when she reached Boston.  It was a bright spring morning, and she reached Carrie’s offices at just after ten-thirty.  Carrie was waiting for her, in a sleek black dress and jacket with large sunglasses hiding her eyes.  Dove loomed by her side, bowing his head to Belle as she hurried over.

“We’ve brought boxes, cases and a van to transport them in,” drawled Carrie, kissing her cheek.  “I have my car, too.  In you get, darling.  Dove’s agreed to be the designated driver for the van, so if it all gets to be too much, we can stop for cocktails and call Jasper to drive us home.”

“It’s a little early for me,” said Belle, amused, and Carrie waved a languid hand.

“Always plan ahead, that’s my motto,” she said.  “How’s that man of yours?”

“Frustrated and in pain, but I think he’ll be okay.”

She sniffed.

“Yes, I can’t imagine him being the type to want to depend on others.  Too nurturing.  Doesn’t want to be a burden.”  She linked her arm through Belle’s, drawing her down the street with Dove trailing behind them.  “Are you sure you want to do this yourself, darling?  I could easily get some professionals in.”

“No,” said Belle.  “No, I need to do this.”

“As you wish.  I’ve cleared it with Legume Senior, by the way.  “We have until two this afternoon.”

“That should be enough time.”

Driving out to her old house, the place where she had lived with Gaston and never really called home, made Belle nervous.  Carrie drove them in her car, with Dove following in a small van, and Belle felt her heart thump as they turned into the long driveway, the red brick mansion just as she had left it that night when she had leapt from the bathroom window and fled into a storm.  She stepped out of the car, looking up at the house and chewing her lip.  The windows scowled down at her, and she jumped at the touch of Carrie’s hand on her shoulder.  She took a deep breath, squaring her jaw.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said.

Mrs Potts answered the door, almost crying on Belle’s shoulder as she babbled about how good it was to see her, and Belle talked to her in gentle tones for a few minutes until she had calmed.

“We were told you’d be coming today, but we didn’t dare to hope,” she said, sniffing and patting her neat grey hair.  “Lumiere will want to see you.  The house hasn’t been the same since you left.”

“I’ll make sure to speak to him before I go,” promised Belle.  “We’ve been given until two to remove my things, did you know?”

Mrs Potts sniffed again, wringing her hands a little.

“You go on then, Miss Belle,” she said.  “Let me know if there’s anything you need.  I’d better see to Mr René’s lunch.  Not that he’s eating much.”

“He’s here?”

Belle looked around anxiously.  She hadn’t expected her former father-in-law to be in the house.  Not that the two of them had been on bad terms, exactly, but she suspected that he wouldn’t want to see her, given the divorce, and what had happened to Gaston.

“He’ll be around somewhere,” said Mrs Potts.  “In his room, I should think.  He barely leaves it.  He’s - he’s not quite himself, Miss.  The shock, you know?”

“Right.”  Belle hesitated, bouncing on her toes, and Carrie’s hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Perhaps we should start with your clothes?” suggested Carrie gently, and Belle nodded.

“This way,” she said, and made for the wide staircase.

Her room was just as she had left it, and Carrie made noises of approval when she opened the closets.

“Some fabulous things here, darling.”

“Most of it can go,” said Belle vaguely, making a start on the shoe collection.  “I’m not likely to be wearing designer ball gowns in Storybrooke.”

“But - but - the clothes!” protested Carrie, and Belle looked up with a grin.

“They can go to auction,” she said.  “I thought the proceeds could go to a domestic violence charity, or a women’s shelter, or something.  Same with the shoes.”

Carrie let out a strangled noise at that point, and Belle giggled.

“Oh, I’ll take some of it,” she said.  “But I don’t live in a mansion in Boston, and I don’t spend my evenings bored out of my mind making small talk at the country club.  I live in a small town in Maine.  I don’t need glamorous, I need cute and practical.”

“At least take this.”

Carrie lifted out a dark green dress with diamantes around the neckline, which Belle recognised as the dress she had been wearing at that fateful party, when she and Gold had danced in Gaston’s study.  At least the memories of that outfit weren’t entirely unpleasant.

“Alright,” she agreed.  “I’ll take that one.”

In the end she took two cases of shoes and clothes, the far larger remainder being packed into boxes by Lumiere, who had bustled up, beaming at her and kissing her on both cheeks.  He carried the boxes out to the van, her expensive designer outfits gone forever to adorn some other woman, in some other life.  Belle couldn’t say that she would miss them.  They were a reminder of the expensive, shallow emptiness of her world before Gold, and she was far happier with a simpler existence.  Her books were another matter.  She couldn’t bear to leave a single one behind, and the trunk of Carrie’s car was soon weighed down with boxes stuffed full of novels and classics and first editions of her favourites.  Some of them would have to go in the van with Dove, to be collected at a later date.

“Anything else?” asked Carrie, with a wry expression.  “You could probably start your own library with this lot, but still…”

Belle hesitated.

“There are a few in Gaston’s study, I think,” she said.  “I won’t be a moment.”

She grabbed one of the empty cardboard boxes and trotted off to the study, pushing open the heavy door and slipping inside.  The room was still dark and somewhat oppressive, the heavy wooden furniture shining in the sunlight coming through the blinds.  It smelt of beeswax and leather, and the cloying, chemical scent of some sort of artificial vanilla fragrance.  Belle shivered a little, the room holding too many memories of Gaston for her to feel truly comfortable in there.  But she knew that some of her books were here, mainly historical non-fiction that his father had liked to read.  She hurried to the bookshelves, running her eyes over the spines until she found what she was looking for, and began pulling them from the shelves and dropping them into the box.

“Gaston never was one to learn from past mistakes.”

The sound of René Legume’s voice made her jump, and she almost dropped the box she was carrying, clutching it to her chest as the books rattled inside.  She turned to face him, to see him leaning against the opening to the other part of the study, where Gaston had liked to putt golf balls and badmouth his business rivals.  Belle chewed her lip.  Her former father-in-law looked as though he had aged twenty years, more grey in his hair than she remembered, his face haggard and drawn.

“I - I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she faltered, and he waved a hand, as though he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I wasn’t planning on being here, it’s just - well, I can’t seem to bring myself to go outside right now.”  He gazed at her soberly.  “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you.”  She couldn’t honestly return the compliment, so she didn’t.  “Um - how are you?”

“Not all that good, since you ask.”  He smiled thinly.  “Scandal makes for a dip in share price, whatever you may hear about no publicity being bad publicity.  I was hoping to retire next year.  Hand over the reins to my son.  Funny how things never work out the way you think they will.”

There was nothing remotely funny about what had happened, as far as Belle could see, but she said nothing.  Legume sucked in his cheeks, glancing around the room.

“I presume you heard what happened to him?” he said.  “That woman he was seeing?  Of course you did, it was all over the papers.  How could you not?”

“I did.”

Legume grunted, running a hand through his hair.

“I told him to throw her aside months ago, you know,” he said.  “Unstable, I thought.  He never would listen to me.  Not in respect of anything that mattered, anyway.  And now he’s dead, and it’s too late.”

“It—”  Belle closed her eyes before flicking them open.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“He should have stayed faithful to you,” he went on.  “I never did think you’d put up with it.  Maybe if he could have controlled himself he’d still be here.  And you.”

Maybe he would.  Would I?  Would I ever have been happy with him?

“I guess we’ll never know,” she said, and he nodded resignedly.  Belle shifted, feeling awkward.

“I - I only came to get these books,” she said.  “I should get going.”

“Just a minute.”

Legume turned, going into the other half of the office for a moment, and she frowned, wondering what he was up to.  He returned after a brief moment, holding something up to her that made her brow crinkle.  The silver music box she had given him so long ago.  The one she and Gold had wound up and danced to in the few brief, peaceful moments that the party from hell had allowed them.

“Here,” he said, holding it out, and Belle shook her head.

“That was a gift.”

“I want you to have it,” he insisted.  “It’ll only make me sad to keep it, Belle.  Please.  Take it.  Take it, and - and maybe you’ll dance to its music.  Someone should.”

She swallowed hard, hesitating, but set down her box of books on the desk, walking over to take it from him.  The music box was cool against her fingers, and he flicked her eyes up to meet his.  They were dark with grief, heavy with loss, and she felt a rush of sympathy for him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I know he wasn’t a good husband to you, Belle, and I’m sorry.  I should have taught him better than that.”

She didn’t know what to say, because she knew that he was right, and she knew that he had been a cold and ruthless man, but at the same time the devastation in his eyes for the loss of his son was difficult to witness.  She stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek instead, feeling the stubble of several days beneath her lips, and when she sank back down onto her heels he sent her the briefest of smiles, a flicking upwards of his lips.

“Be happy,” he said, and turned to shuffle out of the room, his head bowed, a broken man.

She watched him go, tugging at her lip with her teeth, and then set the music box on top of the books she had collected.  It was strange to leave the dark and dismal house with the box in her arms to step out into the bright sunshine, and it felt almost like being reborn.  She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with clean, fresh air, and Dove took the box from her, setting it in the back seat of Carrie’s car.  Carrie was standing with her car keys in hand, straightening her sunglasses.

“Ready, darling?” she asked, and Belle nodded, still a little subdued.  Carrie gave a brisk nod, turning to Dove.

“Drive everything over to the office, there’s a good chap,” she said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dove bowed his head again, smiled at Belle, and went over to the van that was filled with the things she was giving to charity, and the books she would need to collect.  She sighed to herself, giving the house a final glance before getting into the car next to Carrie and buckling up.

“Storybrooke, then,” said Carrie brightly.

“Would you like to stay tonight?” asked Belle.  “We could have dinner.  I’m sure Alistair would like to see you.”

“Consider it a date.”

Gold was tired after making his way around Storybrooke in the chair without assistance.  In the end he had decided not to go out to the school; it was on the edge of town and he hadn’t yet gotten the hang of getting into his car from the chair, much less getting the chair in with him, so instead he pushed his way around Storybrooke.  The lack of wheelchair accessible doors soon became apparent, but he could at least get a coffee at Granny’s, and Merida gave him a bear claw on the house, so it wasn’t all bad.  The townsfolk were curious about his injuries; he and Belle had remained tight-lipped about what had happened, but one of their residents being shot by a jealous husband who had gone on to be murdered on his own boat had, unsurprisingly, been the talk of the town.  He was forced to be less than polite with some people who wouldn’t mind their own business, and eventually Merida started shooing them away from him.

He made his way home after his coffee, hands pushing at the wheels of his chair, and was surprised by how exhausted he was when he made it through the door.  After taking more painkillers, he lay down on the couch for a nap, waking with a start at the sound of a car engine outside.  He scrabbled for the chair, almost overbalancing as he struggled to get into it, and was breathing heavily by the time he could wheel himself out into the hallway.

“We’re back.”  Belle held a cardboard box out of the way as she bent to kiss his cheek.  “Carrie’s staying tonight, okay?”

“Of course,” he said, as Carrie swept in to kiss his other cheek.  “Although I’m not exactly in a position to cook dinner.”

“It’s fine, I’ll cook,” Belle called over her shoulder.  “I’m just putting these books in the study.”

“Oh, and if you think this is the last of it, you’d be wrong,” added Carrie, hefting her own box of books.  “We couldn’t fit them all in the car.  I suggested opening a library.”

“Well, the one in Storybrooke’s been closed for years, maybe we should consider it,” he said, amused.

Belle poked her head around the door, grinning at him.

“Maybe I’ll hold you to that,” she teased.

Once all the boxes and cases were in the house, Belle made baked cannelloni with a beef ragu fragrant with herbs, and thick bechamel sauce topped with cheese.  They ate it spooned from the dish with a crisp green salad and drank a bottle of red wine.  Gold had to wave the wine away, much to his disappointment, but he supposed it was a small price to pay for pain relief.  The medication merely dulled everything to a constant, throbbing ache, but it was better than nothing.  He wondered if the pain would ever go, or if it would always be a part of him.  Belle’s hand ran over his thigh, and he glanced across to find her smiling at him, her eyes sparkling with love.  Worth it.  Worth every agonising moment.

“I’m delighted to say that at least one good thing has come out of this whole sorry mess,” said Carrie, spearing a piece of tomato with her fork.  “Daddy has agreed that young men these days are not always what they seem, and has softened on the idea of me dating Ursula.  I’ve invited her to dinner this weekend.  No doubt my stepmother will be a nightmare, but that won’t be anything new.”

“Congratulations,” said Gold, sincerely.  “I’m happy for you.”

“Yes, well, you’re partly responsible, of course,” she said, winking at him.  “When I told him you and I had broken up he wasn’t sure whether to celebrate or show me some sympathy.  Either way I got to have a few drinks, so it didn’t really matter.”

“So you won’t be wanting me to attend any more parties and play the obnoxious gambler, then?” he asked with a grin, and she shrugged.

“Oh, I may still want to see him from time to time.  Always useful to have a Bastard-For-Hire, you know.”

Gold chuckled.

“I’ve heard back from the Legume’s lawyer regarding our damages claim, by the way,” she added, taking a sip of wine.  “It’ll take some time before his estate is dealt with, of course, but they won’t contest the claim.  The settlement should be very generous.”

“Thank you,” said God, reaching out to squeeze Belle’s hand.  “That’s a load off my mind, it really is.”

“More than enough to move somewhere with better accessibility, if you were so inclined,” she added, and he shook his head.

“I think not.  This has been home for a long time, and I’d prefer not to leave unless I have to,” he said.  “Besides, I won’t be stuck in this bloody chair forever.  As soon as I can I want to be on my feet and moving around.”

“Well, until then,” said Carrie.  “Sit back, relax, and think about what you’ll do with that money.”

Gold shared a look with Belle, and smiled.

“Oh, we’ve already decided on that,” he said.  “We’re using it for our family.”

“Stop fidgeting.”

Gold scowled at the top of the doctor’s head, wincing again as the cast came off and he could see his leg for the first time in months.  The skin beneath was sickly-pale and scarred, the bone lumpy where the pins and steel rods held it together.  He wanted to cringe at the sight of it, but at least he had kept the limb.  There was that.  And now his cast was off and he could put weight on it.  With the aid of a cane, at least.

“You can use this,” said the doctor, his tone dismissive.  “It’s adjustable, and I’ve put it on the shortest setting, so you should be fine with it.  Let’s see you walking.”

He proffered one of the plain metal walking canes the hospital used, its handle coated in rubber, and Gold glared at him again.  His usual doctor was on leave, and so he had this young man who looked as though he was barely old enough to be qualified and had the bedside manner of a prison guard.

“Thank you for reminding me of my debility and short stature,” he said dryly, and the doctor nodded as though it was genuine gratitude.

“Up you get, then,” he said.

Gold pushed to his feet, a little unsteady.  He gripped the handle of the cane, his knuckles turning white.  His first, shuffling steps were awkward, his leg feeling weak after months of not putting weight on it, but gradually his pace improved, and he limped back and forth, letting the cane take his weight.  It was surprisingly tiring, but he made himself keep going, wincing at the pain.

“You’ll be fine,” said the doctor.  “Try not to overdo things for a few days.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You shouldn’t need regular painkillers going forward,” he added.  “Although I suspect it’ll give you a few twinges when the weather gets bad.”

“At my advanced age I’ve come to expect that,” said Gold sardonically, and the doctor nodded in agreement.

“Well, everything looks to have healed up nicely,” he said.  “You’ll need to come back in a few months.  Don’t use it as an excuse to sit around.  The sooner you get up, the sooner you can start building some strength in those legs.”

“I’m so glad you’re here to tell me these things, Doctor.”

The doctor looked up sharply, as though suddenly realising that he was being sarcastic, and Gold sent him a thin smile.

“Right,” said the doctor.  “I think you’re all set, Mr Gold.”

“Oh good.”  Belle’s voice from the doorway made him look around with a smile.  “I’m just in time to take you home, in that case.”

“This your daughter?” asked the doctor, and Gold wanted to grind his teeth as Belle giggled.

“Thank you for the adjustable cane, Doctor,” he said, with a touch of asperity.  “I’m sure I’ll manage to walk out of here in one piece.”

“Oh, you don’t need that ugly thing,” Belle said impatiently.  “Neal, give him the present.”

Neal entered the room, holding up a long, thin item which ended in a sharp angle.  It was wrapped in gold paper with a ribbon curling from the end.

“Bet you can’t guess what this is,” he said, with a grin.

Gold unwrapped it, revealing a slender cane made of polished ebony with a gold handle.  It was beautifully patterned, and fit perfectly in his hand.

“It should be the right height,” said Belle.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” he said, and grounded the cane to test it, limping across the room a couple of times.  “Perfect height.”

“Way better than that other thing,” said Neal.  “You look kind of distinguished, Pops.”

“Right,” said the doctor.  “I’ll leave you to it, Mr Gold.  Remember to keep moving.”

Gold didn’t bother responding to that, and the doctor nodded and ducked out of the room.  Belle took his hand, smiling brightly.

“No more wheelchair,” she said.  “How does it feel?”

“Better,” he said truthfully.  “It’s going to make teaching easier, that’s for sure.  Not being able to walk around when I spoke was hard to get used to.”

“You still do that pacing back and forth thing, huh?” said Neal, and Gold shot him a look.

“Are you mocking my personal style?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Neal.  “Just wondering how you managed with the chair.”

“It felt weird,” grumbled Gold.  “And I swear some of the little buggers dropped things under the wheels on purpose.”

“Well, now you can stride around the classroom at will,” said Neal.  “And you also have this really cool weapon in case any of them piss you off.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Neal chuckled, and leaned in to hug him.

“Look, I gotta run,” he said.  “Class starts soon, I just wanted to come over and see the big reveal.”

Gold hugged him back, smiling as Neal turned to kiss Belle on the cheek.

“Come home this weekend,” she said.  “If you have time, that is.”

“Love to,” he said.  “See you guys on Friday.  With laundry.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Gold dryly, and Neal grinned.

“Love you both,” he said, and sauntered out.

Belle glanced at Gold, a tiny smile on her face.

“What?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Nothing.  Are you ready?”

“To go home with you and leave that bloody chair here?  Absolutely.”

They walked out into the bright June sunshine, and although Gold found it awkward and a little painful to limp along, he suspected that it would get easier the more he did it.  At least he didn’t have to fight the wheelchair to get in and out of his car now; he certainly wouldn’t miss that.

They arrived back in Storybrooke that evening, and despite feeling tired from the effort of driving and the seemingly constant pain, Gold was relieved to be able to get out of the car and walk into his house.  Belle hurried ahead of him, assuring him that she had dinner under control and that all he had to do was sit down and relax.  He was happy to do so, slumping on the couch and rubbing at his leg in an effort to ease the pain.  He listened to the sounds of Belle rattling around in the kitchen with half an ear.  He really needed a painkiller, but he wanted a glass of wine, and so he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the stabbing sensations in his lower calf and ankle.  He’d gotten better at that, of late.

He wasn’t especially hungry; the pain meds made him a little nauseous, and he had lost weight over the past few months.  The food smelled good, though; Belle made spiced roast chicken with roasted potato wedges, salad and garlic mayonnaise, and he managed to eat more than he had in days.  It seemed to please her; he was aware that she had been fretting a little over him getting thinner, and it made him feel good to put a smile on her face as he helped himself to more potatoes.  He drank a glass of cold white wine, which tasted like nectar after weeks of having nothing but tea and water.

“It’s good to have you back home and walking around again,” she said.  “I’ll have you making my favourite pasta before you know it.”

“I know I haven’t been pulling my weight with the cooking,” he said.  “It’s been tough trying to get around the kitchen with the chair.  We should be able to get back to normal now, though.  The new normal, anyway.”

“I’m looking forward to the new normal,” she said, taking a sip of wine.  “Neal’s tuition’s all paid up, including those summer classes he wanted to take, so I think you and I deserve to take some time for ourselves, don’t you?”

“I do,” he agreed.  “Maybe we can go out to the cabin.  I can at least walk in the woods with you now.”

Belle speared a piece of chicken, giving him a wicked little smile.

“I was thinking of other things we could do out there, but have it your way.”

He grinned at that, taking another drink before dipping a piece of potato in the garlic mayonnaise.

“And I think it’s time I cleared out some old things,” he added.  “It’s time to break with the past, and look to the future.”

Belle looked at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” she asked, and he smiled.

“It’s time for Danny Devine to retire.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Belle was eyeing him over a pile of clothing in her arms, the sleeves of two expensive suits and numerous silk shirts, the summer sun making her hair gleam with reddish highlights.  Gold opened and closed his fingers on the handle of his cane, and nodded, gesturing to a patch of earth he had cleared in the back garden.

“It’s symbolic,” he said.  “That part of my life is over, and I don’t want it back.”

Belle dropped the suits in a pile on the ground, stepping back with a sigh.

“Fine, but we may have to get you a new suit,” she said.  “You looked so good.  I’ll never forget that time I opened my door and there you were.”

“i seem to recall being very surprised myself,” he said.  “I thought how beautiful you were, and how I couldn’t possibly be that lucky.”

“Oh, I think we both got lucky that night,” she said, leaning over to kiss him.

He kissed her back, gently probing with his tongue, and she opened her mouth, leaning into him with a contented sound.  Gold put an arm around her waist, his lips pulling at hers as the kiss ended, and smiled.

“Ready?” he asked, and she sighed, handing him a bottle of barbecue lighter fluid.  

He sprayed some over the pile of clothing, letting it soak into the wool and silk, ensuring that it would easily burn.  Perhaps it was ridiculous to feel this way about a set of clothes, but there were too many bad memories wrapped up in them, and the times he had spent with Belle couldn’t wholly compensate for that.  Burning the trappings of his alter ego would be closure, of a kind.  He handed Belle the lighter fluid, and she gave him a box of matches.  A lit match dropped onto the suits sent a wave of flame tippling over them as the fluid caught, and Belle took his hand, squeezing it.  The smoke drifting upwards made dark swirls against the summer sky, and he hoped that some of his bad memories would go with it, drifting away to float on the breeze.

“Well, we couldn’t burn the contents of your bag,” remarked Belle.  “So - what about the toys?”

“We can recycle those,” he said.  “There’s a place in Boston, actually.  I’ll take them in next time we go.”

“Good,” she said, and shot him a wicked grin.  “We can buy some replacements while we’re at it.”

He laughed aloud at that, but nodded agreement.

“When people ask how we met, what are we gonna tell them?” he asked, with a grin.

“I don’t know,” she said, turning to face him.  “Maybe something near the truth.  That we met in Boston, and got talking over a drink.  We don’t have to say that we were mostly naked at the time.”

“Or that you paid me thousands of dollars with your cheating husband’s credit card.”

“No, I definitely won’t mention that part,” she said, with a giggle, twining her arms around his neck.  “Although you were worth every cent.”

“Hmm.”  He was amused, but kissed her gently.  “Well, if you want me to get another suit, I’m certainly not averse to the idea.  Perhaps in time for Neal finishing those summer classes he’s taking.  He’s supposed to be staying with Milah for a week before he comes to us, but I see no reason why we can’t all go out for dinner to celebrate the end of his first year.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, and kissed the tip of his nose.  “We’ll get you a gorgeous three-piece and a silk shirt and you can ravish me on The Sea Witch afterwards.”

Gold grinned widely.

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

It was a warm day in early August that Belle and Gold found themselves in Boston, staying overnight on The Sea Witch, which they planned to take on a week-long trip along the coast before heading back to collect Neal and return to Storybrooke for another two weeks.  Gold had purchased his new suit, and a black silk shirt to go with it, a dark grey tie knotted around his throat.  He was surprised how comfortable it felt, or perhaps it was just that these clothes held no baggage from his old life.  These clothes would only be taken off him by Belle.  She was sitting on the bed in a pretty blue sundress, watching him button his jacket with an expression of approval on her face.

“You really do look very good, you know,” she said.  “Almost too good to let out of this cabin.”

He grinned at that.

“Unless you want us to be late for lunch, I’m afraid you’ll have to behave yourself.”

She pouted, making his grin widen.

“So, I get to meet your ex-wife?” she remarked.  “Should be interesting.”

“Yeah, and I get to meet her boyfriend,” he said, with a shrug.  “They’ve been together awhile now, but I don’t know the man.”

“I guess it’s nice that he’s involved enough to come and collect Neal with her,” she said.

“I suppose.”  He frowned at himself in the mirror.  “I’ve never been great at small talk, though.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed.  “I seem to recall you made yourself very agreeable at that party I hosted.  To some of the guests, anyway.  Weren’t you an obnoxious antique dealer or something?”

Her eyes were gleaming, and he grinned at her.

“I promise I’ll be polite,” he said.  “I’m sure we can find some sort of common ground.”

Belle bounced up off the bed, looking him over approvingly before picking a speck of lint from his sleeve.

“He has a boat, Neal said,” she said, straightening his tie.  “If you run out of things to talk about, you can tell him about The Sea Witch.”

“That’s true,” he agreed.  “I’ve no idea what he does, and Neal didn’t seem to know either, but I’ve no doubt we can all get along for the space of two hours.”

His hands smoothed the front of his jacket.

“There,” he said.  “Will I do?”

“You look good enough to eat,” she said, and rose up on her toes to kiss him.  “A fact that I’ll remember later tonight.”

He grinned wickedly, and she giggled, kissing him again.

They had agreed to meet Neal, Milah and her partner by the end of the harbour.  There was a good seafood restaurant there, and Milah had informed him that she and Killian would be coming by boat and would leave in the same way.  As Gold and Belle were also on their boat, it seemed the obvious meeting place.  They strode along the waterfront at a sedate pace, Belle’s arm linked through his, sunglasses keeping the glare from his eyes.  He had gotten used to the cane; he still limped, but his stride was more fluid and graceful, and he was surprised at how quickly he could move given a bit of practice.

“There’s Neal,” observed Belle, pointing to where Neal was waving at them.  “I guess that’s Milah and Killian, hmm?”

Gold looked over, seeing Milah clutching the arm of a tall, dark-haired man who was somewhat younger than her.  His eyes widened in shock as he recognised him as a fellow employee of Blue Star Escort Services: the man who called himself alternately James Hook and Long John Silver.  Hook’s face had blanched, his mouth falling open a little, and Gold wanted to laugh out loud.  He managed to wrestle his mouth into a toothy grin as they approached, and hugged Neal before stepping back and grounding his cane.

“Alistair?”  Milah’s eyebrows had shot up.  “Well, well, I see you found someone to dress you at last.  That suit looks expensive.”

“It’s worth paying more for quality,” he said blandly, fixing Hook with an amused look and receiving a glare in return.

“A lesson I believe I tried unsuccessfully to impart,” she said, with a smirk.  “Did you finally realise that teaching was never going to pay you enough to make a decent living, and get a different job?”

“No.”  Belle squeezed his arm with her own, smiling sweetly.  “He just found a rich divorcée, didn’t you, love?”

Milah looked Belle over, seeming to bristle a little before recovering.

“You must be Belle,” she said.  “Neal told me about you.  This is my partner, Killian Jones.  Killian, this is my ex, Alistair.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” said Gold smoothly, holding out a hand.  Jones, I have to remember to call him Jones.  Could be awkward, otherwise.

“Likewise,” said Jones stiffly, taking his hand and squeezing it perhaps more than was strictly necessary.

“Killian works in security,” Milah went on.  “Top-flight assignments only, of course.  He has some very high-profile clients.”

“Lot of night shifts, are there?” asked Gold mildly, and Jones shot him a look that promised retribution later.

“That’s the only downside,” Milah admitted.  “We don’t see one another much during the week, but the money really is superb, so there’s that. Killian is an excellent provider.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” said Gold, showing his teeth.  “It must make you tired, Mr Jones.  All those late nights.  Not knowing what you might be walking into.”

“You sound as though you speak from experience, mate,” said Jones, glaring daggers at him.  Gold’s mouth pulled up at one corner.

“My days of working after hours are over, I’m afraid.”

“Are we gonna eat, or what?” asked Neal loudly, and Gold grinned, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Lead the way, son.”

In the end the lunch wasn’t too bad, although the conversation was somewhat stilted.  Gold stopped teasing Jones, figuring the man probably felt awkward enough about his other life without him reminding him of it.  He and Milah did seem happy, though.  The conversation turned to boats, and ended with Belle inviting them to take a weekend trip on The Sea Witch with them.  Gold wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened, but Milah accepted readily, and he and Jones eyed one another, no doubt each wondering how he could get out of it.

Lunch over, they walked back along the harbour again, and Gold and Belle hugged Neal goodbye, promising to collect him in a week’s time, and getting aboard the boat.  Belle steered it out of the harbour into the sea, and once they had been out in the ocean for some time Gold went to make some drinks, carrying her gin and tonic through to the lounge area and waiting for her to join him.  Eventually he heard the engines slow until they were just ticking over, and looked out of the window at a coastline fringed with forests.  Belle had steered the boat into a calm, deserted bay, and he recognised it as the one they had stopped in on their first weekend on the boat, what seemed like years ago.  He smiled to himself, gazing out at the orange sunset sending bronze and copper lights across the rippling water.  The engine cut out, and the anchor was released, the boat tugging against the anchor chain for a moment before settling, its movement in the calm waters barely noticeable.

He shrugged off his jacket, leaving himself in waistcoat and shirt above the pants, and Belle came through from the bridge, smiling up at him as she bent to pick up her drink.

“Well, Mr Gold,” she said, taking a sip before setting it down.  “It appears we’re alone.”

“It does indeed.”

He set down his own drink, and reached to the shelf above the couch, where a small antique music box sat.  The same music box that he had admired at a party so long ago.  They had kept it in the study at home, but Belle had been loathe to leave it there to be unused, and so Gold had suggested that they take it on the boat, a reminder of the early days of their relationship, wrapped up in a beautiful silver-chased shell.  A simple turn of the key, and music began to play: a waltz, tinkling out into the cabin as dusk fell.  He turned to her with a grin, laying his cane to the side and holding out a hand.

“Care to dance?”

Belle broke into a smile, moving close to him and taking his hand, her other sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulder.

“I thought you weren’t going to dance again,” she whispered.

“Slow-dancing only, remember?” he said softly, and she chuckled.

“Sounds promising.”

He grinned, and began to move them in a slow circle, Belle resting her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.

“I love you,” she breathed.  “And I’m so glad I met you.”

“Yes,” he whispered.  “And I love you, too.”

The music tinkled on, bright, pleasant notes as they swayed together and the sun slid towards the horizon, and Gold pressed his nose into her hair to breathe in her scent as he pulled her close against him.  She was perfect.  She was his.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The 7th Prince (XI)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / GOT7

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4,809

Genre: Royalty!AU

Summary: A land under a curse. Seven mysterious princes. A decision that will make or break the Kingdom. (idea from this post here, by@cyjsgirl)

As you sit there, lost in your own thoughts, you wonder what this means. Youngjae, born with magic. Jinyoung, exhibiting signs now. The power he speaks of sounds like prophecy. But if that’s so – a chill crosses your spine. You can’t help but think of his premonition. You, wrapped in shadow. Consumed by the night.

When you think about this, there’s only one person who comes to mind.

Mark.

Over the next few days, things lose steam. The momentum gained during the Council meeting slows, the air of Morsus rife with the mixed tension of politics and favors. Duo decides they no longer support an attack, not unless their commerce tax is approved. Quattor refuses to give in though, since the tax would further hurt their annual grain sales. And so on, and so forth, until you’re about ready to collapse with exhaustion. 

You do collapse at night, burying your head in your pillows and falling asleep. You don’t know how your parents do it, day in and day out. Don’t know how the other rulers do it, either. Each morning is the same – the same meetings, the same conversations, the same concerns. Always a new crisis to solve, never anything to set aside until tomorrow. Everything life or death – each problem has a person's face and the weight of their problems is now your own. 

After the masquerade, you spend one day in bed. Only one, thanks to Youngjae’s healing - but since that night, you haven’t had a moment’s rest. Yugyeom sat beside you the day you rested, watching you regain your strength.

The second he entered your room, you threw back your covers. “Yugyeom,” you gasped, before he wrapped his arms tight about you. Hugging you quickly before letting go, sinking into the chair Youngjae vacated. 

Your brother’s gaze traveled your face, making sure you were okay before leaning over to punch you in the arm. “What the hell, Y/N,” he ground out, pushing hands into his hair. “You scared the hell out of everyone.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” you protested, though it kind of was. You were the one who left the ball, you were the one following Mark. “I’m sorry,” you amended, somewhat guiltily.

Yugyeom looked at you for a long moment before he sighed. “Apology accepted. So,” he said, barely able to keep from smiling. “Magic. Y/N – magic.”

You spread your fingertips over your comforter and nodded. “Youngjae has magic,” you said, then looked up at him – curious. “Did you know?”

Yugyeom shook his head. “No. I wish I had. I – ah,” Yugyeom covered his face with both hands. “You’re going to be so mad,” he mumbled. “So mad, that I didn’t tell you.”

At this, you squinted. “You can’t just say that and not tell me, Gyeom-ah. So go on, get it over with.”

Yugyeom peeked from between his fingers. “Well,” he sighed, sitting up. “You know Bambam. You know how he’s uh, connected?”

That put it lightly. Bambam possessed the unique talent of reading other people – of taking one look and knowing their exact motivation, that amount to trust them and what questions to ask. It was a gift. Nodding mutely, you kept your gaze on your brother.

“Well,” Yugyeom flushed. “For the past year or so, Bambam has been turning his network of people into a sort of… community.”

“Community?” You weren’t sure who, or even what Yugyeom meant by this. “For what? For whom?”

“For,” Yugyeom hesitated. “Well, magic.”

Your eyes widened. Not at the action itself – Bambam always had a big heart, it didn’t surprise you, him starting something like this. No, what was surprising was that they kept it secret. Kept it a secret from you. It was confusing, since you’d hardly heard Yugyeom mention magic before – let alone hint that he knew about it. Yet there he was – the leader and mastermind behind some secret, underground society.

“I don’t understand,” you said, brow furrowed – and Yugyeom explained.

They called it the Knot. It began about a year back, when Bambam met a girl. She lived in Quinque, was the daughter of a cook in the palace kitchens. Bambam noticed her because of the sparks. Literal sparks – he was walking home from Senary one night and saw bursts of light bouncing over hedges. Bambam paused, approached – and nearly got his eyebrows burnt off, in the process. 

Her name was Nicole, and she was magic. Both figuratively and literally, to Bambam. As he fell, he witnessed firsthand the discrimination. The constant fear she lived with. Nicole existed in terror, that the wrong person would find out what she was, what she had. More than that, she was scared of losing control, of the the power she held. 

Bambam decided to help. 

“You know Bambam,” Yugyeom expressed your thoughts out loud. “He’s always had a certain talent for truthfulness, for discerning the reality of things. It’s why he’s so skilled with his information – he wanted to use his talents to start an underground network. At first it was small,” Yugyeom confessed. “It was just Bambam, myself and a few others. But now – it’s more.” Yugyeom’s smile was uncontainable. “Anyone who sympathizes with magic can come to the Knot. Magic didn’t disappear, Y/N – it just went underground.”

You listened to all this, eyes wide. “You didn’t think to tell me?” you asked, more than a little hurt by this. “I could have helped – could have assisted! I,” you hesitated then, unsure if you would have. Before you met Mark, you’re ashamed to say you thought magic more trouble than it’s worth.

Yugyeom reached out for you, grasping both hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he looked into your eyes. “I tried to tell you, a few times – but didn’t think you’d understand. Didn’t think you’d agree. With your birthday coming and the Council meetings,” Yugyeom sighed, trailed into silence. “I didn’t want to add to your problems.”

“You’re my brother,” you snorted, nudging his shoulder. “You’re always a problem.”

Yugyeom offered you a smile. “I’m telling you now,” he said quietly. “I want – I need your help. I think,” Yugyeom paused, searching your expression. “I think this could change the war.”

You just blinked, as his words sunk in. Searching for a retort, finding none. You should have seen this before, should have noticed. This was the witch’s main advantage, after all: her magic. The one front you could not and would not prepare for, the one aspect you always lost. If the witch decided to ride into battle, who would stop her? 

If you have magic, though – here, you inhaled, the sound of it sharp. “Gyeom,” you grinned, grip tightening. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

Yugyeom smiled back. “Yeah?” He seemed sheepish, though earlier he was resplendent. “You don’t think it’s too... out there?”

You nodded. “Oh, it’s definitely out there. I think it’ll be hard to change the Council’s opinions,” you frowned.

“It will be,” Yugyeom agreed, leaning back to rest his chin on his hands. “But then – think of how many city-states magic touches.”

You fell silent, considering this. It’s true – there were many. 

“There’s Quattor,” Yugyeom ticked the name off his finger. “Obviously, since Youngjae is magical. Quattor is also more magic-friendly than the other city-states. Many moved there, after the curse took effect. Imagine if we had all their spell-castors, on our side.”

You nodded. You could see it then – you did see it. “Right. Then our parents,” you nodded, looking at Yugyeom. “They know Youngjae, they let him heal me. I think they’d be open to magic as well.”

“Right.” Yugyeom raised his second finger. “So, there’s Senary and Quattor. Kingdoms across the sea trade in magic, I think we could convince Duo based on that. Throw in Quinque, because of Bambam,” Yugyeom lifted two more fingers. “And that’s four of the seven.”

“Tribus,” you added, watching Yugyeom frown. “Add Tribus to your list.”

“Tribus?“ Yugyeom paused. “Y/N, I know he’s your best friend but – Jinyoung? You really think he would agree to use magic?”

“I think he would,” you said to him softly, and Yugyeom shrugged.

“Okay,” he sighed. “You know him better than I. Add Tribus.”

The rest of the day you spent in careful conversation, struggling to figure out what next. Yugyeom appeared relaxed, for the first time in a long time. It made you think about all the times he stopped himself from explaining. All those times he offered vague information, never revealing his true source. It was Bambam, sure – but more than that, it was the Knot.

Now it’s your turn to help. That’s what you think about, dressing yourself this evening. Tugging on long, silken gloves which go to your elbows. Not to protect yourself from magic (or others from yours), but because those in attendance might want to stay anonymous. Yugyeom tells you that some of Bambam’s parties are just that – parties. Some though, are something else entirely. They’re smokescreens, frivolity which distract from their true purpose. 

This party you tonight, is one of the latter. You’ll be attending aware of the danger, of the magic which lurks within. Yugyeom left the castle earlier than you, needing to be one of the first people there. Jinyoung is your date tonight, instead. You haven’t forgotten about your promise to him – you’ll help find answers for him, and this seems the best place to look. A gathering of magical individuals.

Jinyoung meets you at Senary’s palace, dressed entirely in black. He blends into the night sky, with his star-kissed skin and ebony hair. Holding out his arm while you walk down the steps. “You sure you don’t want to take my carriage?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. “It’s not a problem, Stanley just went in to chat with the other drivers.”

You shake your head as you continue. “It’s not far to Quinque,” you explain, all the while leaving out the true reason. When you leave, you plan on making a detour. Plan on leaving without Jinyoung, convincing him to return to Tribus alone. 

You refuse another day, another night to go by without speaking with Mark. If you must, you’ll walk the entirety of Senary. The entirety of Septum. All the god-damned city-states if necessary, because this game has gone on long enough. After the masquerade, Mark owes an explanation. He needs to explain who he is, what he wants – and why the hell he keeps trying to see you. Never mind the fact that you also keep trying to see him.

You need to know how Mark feels.

Gripping Jinyoung’s arm tighter, you wind your way through the darkened path to Quinque. Bambam doesn’t answer the door himself, a servant takes your coats instead, gesturing down the long hall. The décor of the palace has changed, now dressed in ruby and gold, the color of sunset and gemstones. 

Entering the same room as before, you descend this time with Jinyoung. You’re grateful, for Jinyoung beside you. Grateful for the way he supports you, because far too many gazes turn your way when you enter. Your dress trails behind you – you falter, realizing the hostility in their eyes. These are people pushed aside their entire lives, broken and told that they’re wrong, told that they’re bad.

All by the monarchies. You move forward slowly, certain these people know you’ve never cared. Or - not that you didn’t care, you just never thought about them. Worse, in some ways. You thought magic dangerous, which it is. Life is dangerous, though. Shame clouds your thoughts, enough so you can’t look people directly in their eyes.

It’s only when Bambam steps forward that you relax. Hand falling from Jinyoung’s arm, you stop when Bambam bows. “Y/N,” he smiles. “Thank you for coming.” Turning questioningly to the rest of the party, Bambam arches a brow. “Why did the music stop – is this a request for me to sing? Gladly!” Bambam crows, dramatically flicking his hair as he walks away.

At the bottom of the staircase stands a girl – she laughs, extending a hand towards Bambam. Wrist completely bare sliding her hand into his. Bambam doesn’t flinch, smiling while grasping her tight. They move until reaching the musicians and when they start up again, Jinyoung touches your arm. “Should we find Youngjae?” he murmurs, already scanning the crowd. 

You nod, trying to keep your sense of composure. The lights above are dim, muted and golden. Ruby wine adorns the tables, and people mingle and talk in all corners. As you walk forward, you note the difference in atmosphere from the last party. That one had an air of mystery, of enchantment – the dark promise of night, unspoken lure of shadows.

This is something else, entirely. People are talking more than dancing, and there’s a sense of purpose in the air. You remember Yugyeom saying these parties were held for celebration, yes – but also for networking. They’re for magic users to meet their own, to seek out counsel and guidance of others. With formal training outlawed, users are mostly left to their own accord. Left to discover their talents for themselves – a thing which sometimes ends well, sometimes not. 

That’s why these parties exist, though. They’re opportunities for magic users to interact, to discuss. To learn and grow, which is when you realize – these people aren’t just discussing magic, they’re using it. Sparks dance through the breeze overhead. Somewhere to one side, a woman waves her hand and the wine in her glass twists with snake-like movements. Light slides over curves in mid-air, and the guy standing next to her seems impressed.

Then he waves a hand, and all the liquid splashes unceremoniously back into her cup. 

Jinyoung’s eyes widen. His expression is tinged with something like awe and – more. Curiosity. You recognize this expression, having seen it often throughout childhood. You should have known Jinyoung would love something like this. Magic, though intangible, does exist. It exists, which means it can be studied – Jinyoung has always loved a challenge.

He moves forward, arm breaking from yours to lean forward. Very gently, he taps the woman on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” Jinyoung asks politely – always politely, – waiting until she turns around. “Could you show me how you did that?”

The woman seems surprised, glancing up at his crown. “What kind of magic do you have, Prince of Tribus?” she asks, glancing at Jinyoung’s hand upon her sleeve. “What brings you here tonight?” 

Jinyoung raises both shoulders, lets them fall. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

The woman looks at him, her interest piqued. She nods, wine from her glass lifting once more. “I command the elements,” she says, smiling. “Water, to be exact.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widen. “May I?” he asks, and she nods. 

Jinyoung’s index finger breaks through the stream of wine and you turn to scan the room. You’re searching for Youngjae, though you don’t see him. Bambam said he’d reach out to the Prince of Quattor, said he’d extend an invitation – but you aren’t certain Youngjae will come. Just as you’re starting to fear he wouldn’t, your gaze lands on an unexpected form.

Jaebum is slouched against the wall. His arms firmly crossed while scanning the crowd – sword hanging from his waist. A hood half-covers his expression, but his profile is clear. Turning away, you see Jinyoung still engrossed in his conversation. Assuming he’ll be occupied for some time, you leave without him. Moving through the crowded hall to Jaebum.

When you reach the Prince of Unum, you lean next to him. “Hi,” you greet, glancing sideways.

He doesn’t look at you. “You’re alright,” Jaebum observes, taking a sip from his wine. “Thank god.”

You nod. “Yes,” you agree, turning to look at him. “Thank you, for telling Jackson to bring me to Youngjae.”

Jaebum doesn’t react, though he inclines his head. “You’re welcome,” he allows. When he looks at you, his gaze is dark, harsher than he usually is. “Youngjae is my best friend, Y/N. He doesn’t want his secret known.”

“I know,” you say softly, understanding the meaning. “I promise I won’t tell.”

Jaebum stares for a long moment. “Good.” He lifts his wine then, taking a long sip. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he confesses, frown deepening.

You arch your brows. “Oh? Which part?”

“You asked how I knew that I loved her,” Jaebum explains gently, and you don’t need to ask who he means. 

Some of the noise in the room fades, when you face him. “How did you?” you ask, suddenly curious. 

Jaebum lowers his glass. “If I had been given the choice, I don’t know I would have picked Katherine.”

Your eyebrows arch higher. “No?” That’s not what you expected.

Jaebum smiles, shaking his head. “No. If you’d asked me to write my ideal person – it would have been nothing like her. But,” he shakes his head. “That’s not love. People don’t exist to be lived on paper. You want someone who challenges you, someone who makes you stronger, someone to give you strength and courage. Someone who, when the rest of the world turns it’s back – they fight alongside you.”

You think he’s done then, think he’s run out of words – but then Jaebum’s gaze lifts, lightening.

“It’s the person you look for,” he says quietly. “Even when you know they aren’t there, they can’t possibly be there – but still, you look. You can talk to them for hours, it feels like minutes. It’s not something to describe,” Jaebum says, voice catching. “It’s something you feel.”

You realize then, that you’re staring. Staring, because Jaebum’s words, his expression are things you’ve only felt for one other. “Jaebum,” you start – but stop, spotting familiar blonde hair. “Youngjae!” you blurt, waving him over.

He sees you and waves back, smile wide making his way through the crowd. Youngjae is dressed simply, white shirt over plain trousers. He stops beside Jaebum and grins, clapping him once on the shoulder. “So,” Youngjae glances around. “This is the secret underworld of magic?”

Jaebum looks at Youngjae’s hand on his shoulder – completely bare. Jaebum starts. “Youngjae! No glove, at last. A historic moment. Wine?” Jaebum offers, holding out his half-drunk glass.

Youngjae’s pays no attention to this, hand reaching to touch the leaves of a nearby plant. He watches them brighten beneath his fingertips. “Yes,” Youngjae muses, trying to hide his smile. “I have to say, oddly satisfying.”

Jinyoung appears, close enough that your shoulders brush. “Jinyoungie,” you grin, and he winces.

“Prince Jaebum,” Jinyoung bows. “Prince Youngjae. Please to make your acquaintance.”

To your surprise, Youngjae arches a brow. “We’ve met at least ten times before, Jinyoung. Call me Youngjae.” 

A flicker of a smile crosses Jinyoung’s lips. “Alright, then. Youngjae.”

Jaebum shifts, moving away from the wall. “Well met, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung’s gaze moves to the Prince of Unum. “Well met.”

When you cough, all heads turn your way. “Youngjae,” you nudge Jinyoung in the side. “I think Jinyoung has some things to ask you.”

Now it’s Youngjae’s who looks curious, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “Oh?”

Jinyoung swallows. He stands frozen, until your hand closes around his own. Jaebum’s eyes lower to the movement. “Y/N explained,” Jinyoung starts, hesitant. “She said you know things about magic. She said magic is born, not made and that you have magic from the time of conception. Is that true?”

Youngjae nods, his gesture slight. “As far as I know, yes.”

Jinyoung licks his lips, suddenly dry. “If someone were to exhibit magical tendencies, at a later point in time. It would be strange, no?”

Youngjae stares at him, tilting his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

Looking your way, Jinyoung straightens. He turns back to Youngjae and declares, “I think I’m developing magic.”

Jaebum frowns. “Developing?” He looks at Youngjae. “Is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Youngjae shrugs. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” 

Jinyoung deflates, just slightly. “Ah. Then… perhaps it’s just my imagination.”

Youngjae lets out a low laugh. “I doubt it,” his gaze roams the room. “Usually when people have daydreams, they imagine themselves in possession of something they truly want.”

“Just out of curiosity,” Jaebum interrupts, gaze unmoving from Jinyoung. “What kind of magic do you think that you have?”

Jinyoung’s gaze finds the Prince of Unum’s. “What kind?”

Jaebum nods. “What kind.”

There’s a slight challenge to his words, and Jinyoung blinks. “I see things,” he mutters, defensive. “People, places – I see them before they happen. Or maybe after? It’s hard to tell, occasionally,” Jinyoung pauses, shaking his head

“What does it feel like?” he asks, automatic.

Both you and Youngjae look at Jaebum. “What? Why?” Youngjae frowns.

Jaebum doesn’t look away. “Before your premonitions,” his words are slow, struggling. “What does it feel like?”

Jinyoung pauses, just a moment. “The air chills,” he confesses. “It feels like I’m drowning. Like I have no form, no substance – then I snap back to the moment and feel weaker. My body tires, and I see things.”

Jaebum’s eyes narrow, though Youngjae speaks next. “That’s not – quite what my magic feels like,” he frowns. “I feel weaker after my use, but the energy comes from within. What you just described sounds as though it’s coming from someplace else.”

Jaebum exhales, the sound shaky. “I,” he looks into his drink. Pausing, which both Jinyoung and Youngjae stare. “I,” the Prince of Unum shakes his head, refusing to meet their gazes, “I experience something similar.”

Now it’s your turn to look surprised, your hand dropping from Jinyoung’s arm. “You … what?” you ask, alarmed.

Jaebum falls silent. “When I go into battle,” he admits. “When I’m facing insurmountable odds. Something just... comes over me. It’s indescribable,” he admits, gaze flicking upwards. “Although Jinyoung did a good job describing it. I feel weaker but somehow – I force outcomes to happen.”

“You… what?” Youngjae just stares. “That sounds like will. The power of will. It’s very rare.”

Jaebum’s gaze skims sideways. “Maybe? I don’t know,” his voice is flat. “It’s not something I can control, I always assumed I was imagining things. But,” he hesitates, looking at Jinyoung. “If you experience something similar.” 

Jinyoung stares back, an odd expression on his face. “Maybe we’re not crazy.”

Jaebum nods, just once before he looks your way. 

“No,” you say, before he can ask. “I’ve never experienced something similar. Nothing like what you, nor Youngjae said. I don’t think I have magic.”

“I don’t know enough to answer,” Youngjae interrupts, drawing your attention. “I don’t understand what’s happening, but if you both experience the same thing, then yes – I doubt you’re crazy, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung’s face softens, if only slightly. “I suppose it makes sense,” he admits. “It would be strange indeed, for Jaebum and I to share the same hallucination.”

The two exchange a look, moment broken when Bambam enters the circle. “I see you’ve met,” he grins, cocking an eyebrow. “Youngjae – you’re wanted in the next room. I think we may have found someone else with healing power.” 

At Jaebum’s surprise, Youngjae shrugs. “I told Bambam.” He looks excitedly sideways. “Another healer? Where?” Seeming to remember your prior conversation, he adds, “I have a mentor. In Quattor. He taught me everything I know - granted, that’s not much. He knows more though, he might be able to offer explanation.”

Jaebum nods, needing no more. “Let’s meet the man.”

Jinyoung exhales, then nods as well. “Fine. I’ll do until then,” he adds, eyes alright. “There has to be something in Tribus’ libraries, something on curses and magic.”

Youngjae looks as though he wants to say more – but then Yugyeom appears. “Did you tell Youngjae?” he asks Bambam and, upon seeing the entire circle – his eyes widen. “Y/N! What do you think of the Knot?”

Looking up, you realize you haven’t thought about it much. You’ve been fairly focused on Jinyoung and the others. So concentrated on them, you barely had time to think about where you fit in. How you can use all this. 

Glancing around – you see it. You see Bambam’s vision, Yugyeom’s vision. This dream of having people come together – magic on the side of good, not evil.

“Where have they been?” you murmur, gaze returning to Bambam. “Since the curse, what have they been doing?”

Bambam’s smile falters. “They’ve been in hiding,” he explains quietly. “Nicole said once, Morsus was the stronghold of magic. People came from all over to study in Quattor, in Tribus,” he glances at Jinyoung. “When the war began, people didn’t know who to trust. The witch was powerful within the magical community. Many magicians went with her, she was banished. It’s why her army is so powerful. It’s not just her, but all her spell casters – some of whom are the most knowledgeable of the age. We lost much,” Bambam admits, looking down. “By banishing magic, we lost not just its resources but the people. The people, and their knowledge.”

Jinyoung straightens, motion minuscule. You know that he’s angry – not at Bambam, but at the idea of ignorance. Jinyoung loves learning. Loves to understand, loves to grow and thrive and change things. For knowledge like that to be discarded – he must be livid. 

“That’s terrible,” Jinyoung’s gaze hardens. “It should not be allowed.” Bambam’s gaze meets his. “Jinyoung,” he says carefully. “I didn’t think you’d feel like this.”

Jinyoung, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed. “I might not have,” he admits, words slow. “Were I not exhibiting magic tendencies myself.”

When you look at Jaebum, he remains silent. Merely takes a step back and sips from his wine. From what you know of him, you imagine Jaebum wouldn’t want to divulge until he’s ready. Jinyoung’s story likely shocked Jaebum into admitting the truth – but Jaebum is a general. A soldier. He can’t be keen on admitting what he likely sees as a weakness.

Bambam looks surprised by Jinyoung’s admission; even your brother takes a step forward. Yugyeom reaches for Jinyoung, touches his shoulder. “If you like,” he says, nodding, “We can try to find people you can talk to.”

Jinyoung glances at Youngjae. “I think I’d like to hold out, at least for a little while.”

Youngjae nods, knowing he wants to meet his mentor. “That’s fine.” 

“Do you want to stay here awhile longer?” you ask, looking at Jinyoung.

“I think I’d like to explore,” he nods, glancing at Bambam. “If that works?”

It’s as he’s speaking, that someone taps Yugyeom on the shoulder. Your brother turns, and you notice for the first time that Youngjae and Jaebum are deep in conversation. “Yes,” you shoo Jinyoung away. “You go. I’ll get Yugyeom to take me home later.”

Jinyoung grins, looks at Bambam. “Let’s go.” 

Bambam nods. “Yes?” he says to Jinyoung, tilting his head to one side.

For the first time, you see Bambam isn’t holding a drink. His hair is clean-cut, clothes a darker shade than usual. He holds himself confidently, staring over the crowd and you realize how much he’s grown. He’s still like a brother to you, but now you realize he and Yugyeom are no longer little. They’ve made this place, pulled these people together and your heart swells with pride, looking out at the room.

Jinyoung looks to Bambam. “Who should I meet?”

Bambam raises his eyebrows. “Follow me.”

You watch the two of them leave, watch them go but as he passes – Jinyoung suddenly tenses. Eyes drifting sideways, unfocused and faltering.

“Jinyoung?” you reach out, alarmed.

He turns suddenly, eyes refocusing, hands clasping yours. “Y/N,” he breathes, voice low. “I – how do you plan on getting home?”

You look back at him, surprised. “I don’t know,” you confess. “Yugyeom came here in a carriage, I think.”

Jinyoung’s grip relaxes and he looks to your brother, nodding. “Ah. That should be fine, I think.” Frowning, he continues to survey you.

“Jinyoung,” you lean forward, so no one else hears. “Did you have another vision?”

Jinyoung blinks, then exhales. “I don’t know,” he confesses. “It’s too unclear, too dark. I saw you, definitely you – in Senary?” Jinyoung queries, frowning. “There were shadows though, Y/N. I could barely see.”

Before he can say more than this, Bambam appears. Doubling back when he realizes Jinyoung hasn’t followed. “Jinyoung?” he glances from you to him. “Are you still up for this?”

Jinyoung nods, eyes not moving. “Go home with Yugyeom,” he instructs, releasing your arm. “Promise?”

You nod, struggling to think of a response. “Okay,” you nod – well-aware you’re lying.

Jinyoung nods, disappearing after Bambam. When you look sideways, Youngjae and Jaebum are deep in conversation. Yugyeom speaks to the same woman who interrupted and no one watches you. Slowly, you step backwards.

Continuing on, until reaching a curve in the wall. You slip beyond this. Hurrying down a stone-damp hallway, glancing over your shoulder as you leave. You’ve known your way around Quinque’s castle since the time you could walk. You know the in’s and out’s, know this path will lead past the kitchens. It exits into the gardens – which lead you back to Senary.

Rather than deter you, Jinyoung’s words have given you hope. 

Tonight, you find your shadows.

Tonight, you find Mark. 

And tonight, he tells you. Everything.

[Master List]

[hishotandhaywireheart]

Survey from Esther~

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? Janina Gavankar - Don't Look Down The Irrepressibles - Two Men In Love The Irrepressibles - The Arrow Flor - Warm Blood Shearwater - Animal Life Bastille - Laura Palmer 2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? I'm overwhelmed by this question and can't pick a single answer, sorry lol. This is like asking me what my favorite Pokémon is. 3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. I'm in a dog boarding facility's kitchen at the moment, no books in sight, I'm afraid. But I am reading the first book of the Raven Cycle series in audio form, if that helps 4: What do you think about most? What a question. Art? Animals? 5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? It's my boyfriend saying he's going to sleep :3 6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? *Gamagoori voice* I sleep in the nude 7: What’s your strangest talent? Even though I am not a smoker [unless you count a couple of hookahs per year], I can tell the brand of a cigarette by the smell of the smoke. The smell on someone's clothes, I know immediately what brand it is. Mixture of childhood exposure, sensory sensitivity, and the jobs I've worked lol. 8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) Girls are powerful. Boys are powerful. 9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? I dunno. Maybe? 10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? Uhh. Not a thing that occurs to me to do, to be honest lol 11: Do you have any strange phobias? Big phobia of hypodermic needles, or generally anything like a splinter, tiny shard of glass or hook getting underneath my skin. Phobic of getting pregnant. I guess those are weird. 12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? Uhhh probably? 13: What’s your religion? What a complicated question lol. Simple answer: I'm pagan. But there is literally nothing simple about my endless thoughts about spirituality 14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Taking a walk in the woods, or sitting by a stream or body of water [water sources are especially sacred parts of nature for me] 15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? Both. But I love taking photos and nobody really takes any photos of me. So I guess behind. Especially when it's behind a Polaroid. 16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? Shearwater. Honorable mention to the Irrepressibles. 17: What was the last lie you told? Fuck if I know 18: Do you believe in karma? Not really. But as always I believe in the awesome power of the brain. 19: What does your URL mean? It's my name with "Irrepressible" after it, in the style of Jamie Irrepressible, the vocalist of, well, you can probably guess which band. 20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? Weakness - I'm extremely prone to gaslighting and self doubt about my own reality. Strength - I might not be a fan of abrupt change, but I am very adaptable, given time to adjust. 21: Who is your celebrity crush? None 22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? No, sadly. Remember what I said about my irrational fear of stepping on hooks or sharp objects? Interferes with my sacred need to swim in every lake I see. 23: How do you vent your anger? Ideally, art. Drawing, writing, even recording myself ranting to my microphone about it. 24: Do you have a collection of anything? I collect retro Pokémon merchandise and certain old video games. :> this makes me sound like a massive genwunner but rest assured, it's just an Aesthetic™ 25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Text, to be honest. Us auties generally do better communicating in text based media. Skype calls are useful at times but I've always found them too awkward with delays and such to use reliably. 26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? Hmmm. Tentatively, yes? 27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? Sound I hate: male voices shouting. Sound I love: music bouncing off walls and becoming ethereal and far away. 28: What’s your biggest “what if”? What if I don't understand what this question is asking me? 29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Ghosts, no. I talk about them a lot though because the idea of them is dear and important to me, but literally, no, I have no belief in some vaporized version of your personality that goes on after death. Aliens, I assume are a matter of inevitability. But I don't believe we will probably ever find or meet them in the foreseeable future. Humans think they are much more fascinating than they actually are. Aliens are not crawling all over themselves to build technology just to come fly over to our house and meet us. Sry 30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. Air both times lol 31: Smell the air. What do you smell? The heat coming on at work because morning is here. Faint dog poop smell. Gonna have to tidy that up lol 32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? Buttfuck nowhere, West Virginia 33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? East Coast, if we're talking america 34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? I don't have an opposite gender 35: To you, what is the meaning of life? To create something meaningful and beautiful, and to enjoy myself to the fullest while helping others whenever possible 36: Define Art. If it makes you think about whether or not it's art, then it's art. 37: Do you believe in luck? Uhh. Like as an actual outside force that decides whether good or bad stuff will happen to me, no. 38: What’s the weather like right now? Coldddd 39: What time is it? 6 am. Time to get off work! 40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? Yes, I drive, don't love it but glad I am able. No, but I did run over a bin once 41: What was the last book you read? A book about the history of heterosexuality as a concept, fascinating read actually 42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? As a kid I liked it but it's kinda gross now 43: Do you have any nicknames? Many 44: What was the last film you saw? Can't remember a film rn but I am currently watching The Story Of Film which I CANNOT recommend enough, it is a documentary series about, well, the history of cinema and even if you don't care about movie making... It will absorb you completely and make you not only care but be totally fascinated. I adore it. 45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? You know, I've been really lucky. Never broken bone or needed stitches or even like, been to the hospital, lol. I think I chipped my shin bone on a brick stair once. And a couple years ago I missed a stair going down and sprained my ankle, and my work refused to let me spend any time off my feet so I was crying from pain in front of customers lol. But it healed fast once I had a brace. No problem. 46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? I dunno. I was taught as a child that if you touch their wing dust even a little, they will lose their flight and die. So probably I haven't. Even though I now know this isn't quite true. 47: Do you have any obsessions right now? The Story of Film, some bands, getting sucked back deep into my lifelong love Pokémon again lol 48: What’s your sexual orientation? Pansexual, or: Why Are Gender And Genital Shape Our Main Social Indicator Of Romantic Or Sexual Preferences, Of All Things, That's Really Weird And I Can't Relate, Please Save Me From This Bizarro World 49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? Oh yes, plenty back in school 50: Do you believe in magic? Ahh. I believe in the power of will. I believe in the ability to make your own life full of magic via willpower. I believe in the harmless use of willpower to try and cause a change in your environment. I believe the force exercised by children known dismissively as "imagination" have incredible power to influence the mind and soul. I have no belief in a metaphysical force in the universe called "magic" that could describe basically anything and everything unknown to current science. If you ask me flat-out, I will say yes, I believe in magic. But this is more of what I mean. I don't believe in "magic", except that I do. Adamantly. 51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? I do not tend to forget. Forgive is a matter of situation. But I don't forget. And I am quite the talented ice prince when it comes to freezing someone entirely out of my life. This includes immediate family. I only speak to my little sister out of my entire family. 52: What is your astrological sign? Taurus-Gemini cusp! 53: Do you save money or spend it? Spend :T 54: What’s the last thing you purchased? Bread, milk and a couple very cheap, very pink, very glittery nail polishes. My weakness. 55: Love or lust? Yes. 56: In a relationship? Yep 57: How many relationships have you had? Uhh... Many? Serious, deep romantic relationships, which I suspect is your real question: three. 58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? Nope 59: Where were you yesterday? Home, and briefly out at the store. 60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? My nails are pink and glittery. 61: Are you wearing socks right now? Yep. I wear two pairs to work because my super comfy work shoes are just the tiniest bit too big. 62: What’s your favourite animal? You asked the impossible question. Today, your answer is: praying mantis. Specifically praying mantis godmothers. Ask me again in two hours for an entirely different answer. 63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? Sorry, too socially awkward for this prompt 64: Where is your best friend? In bed, it is very late and/or early. 65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. Don't really have favorites? Just people and stuff I like. 66: What is your heritage? Whitey white. Scots Irish, English, a bit of German, and like everything else you can expect from a family that's been in America about as long as a white devil could possibly be. My mother is a hobbyist genealogist, so this isn't just typical white folks bullshit, I'm vaguely more educated on my roots. I am in fact a distant cousin of notable American politician of the 19th century, Henry Clay. 67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? Playing Pokémon Blue! Beating the game for literally the first time ever! 68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? Uh. Um. Oh god, I don't know lmao 69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? Yes, everyone has, normalize it 70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Hmmm. Yes. 71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? Lose my job bitches, and maybe hope to go viral and boost my chances of getting a new job for doing this thing lol 72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? A-Maybe. At least a few people. B-Travel, make good art, write my will, get my affairs in order. C- Yes, for a while. 73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. Trust obvs 74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? Many. First one that comes to mind is Empire by Jukebox the Ghost 75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? Nope 76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Being best friends and trying to understand one another and willing to be open and honest, no ego in the way 77: How can I win your heart? Buy me sushi. 78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? Yes. 79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? To not have children. 80: What size shoes do you wear? American size seven in men's, nine in women's. Sometimes half a size up or down. 81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? No idea. I should get thinking on that. 82: What is your favourite word? Don't really have one favorite tbh 83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. Glowing lights, core imagery 84: What is a saying you say a lot? Hell yeah 85: What’s the last song you listened to? Maxiimo Park - Going Missing 86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? Long story short: indigo. 87: What is your current desktop picture? Some Pokémon, I forget which. 88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? A random white supremacist, maybe, but honestly, I probably wouldn't press it 89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? No idea rn 90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? I'd be quite disturbed because I cut my teeth on Ocarina of Time and was very creeped out by ReDeads 91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? Shapeshifting. Always my answer. Covers being an animal, or being a child, or flying, or swimming. 92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? First thought is a marching band performance from high school. Second thought is back in that car in the vast moonlit Utah desert. 93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Bad math teachers. Gave me a complex about math and didn't improve me as a person in any way like most of the others did. 94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? No interest 95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Japan motherfuckers 96: Do you have any relatives in jail? Not that I'm aware of but I couldn't care less tbh 97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? If I have, I must have been very small. 98: Ever been on a plane? Yep, just twice. 99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? If they actually absorbed what I had to say? Love yourselves. Love each other. Endeavor to understand each other. Try to figure out what you were taught wrong about yourself and your fellow humans, and unlearn those things. Embrace humanity in all its diversity. Open up and be vulnerable.