#If someone read my WIP and said “the room is just grey”-
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pageturner001 · 3 months ago
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"Idk man, maybe the curtains are just blue"
Me, a writer, who painstakingly described every single object in a room as grey to give the reader a sense of the lack of emotion in the room: "hahaha... are you sure?"
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kithtaehyung · 2 years ago
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seven days (m) (teaser) | jjk
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POSTED HERE JULY 22ND, 2023!!  upcoming series: seven days (m)  pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x reader(f) genre/rating: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; roommates to lovers au  summary: you dump yet another guy that wasn’t up to your “ten day standards,” which leaves your cocky ass, very off-limits roommate to tease your single status yet again. but the teasing is always expected. what’s not expected, is the bet that you make without thinking. the bet that even though you give ten days, he wouldn’t even last seven. warnings: cursing, alcohol/vape mentions, parties, he wears glasses sometimes😔👍, chains bc it’s tradition atp lmaooo, cocky!jk, feelings🤕, big big big jk, flirty!jk, baddie!reader😌, multiple explicit scenes🫠, jk constantly in grey sweatpants and nothing else :))), full lists to be revealed each chapter! notes: …so this song called seven dropped and— notes 2: but really there was a fic that had been in the wips for a minute, and i just so happened to have a burst of energy to expand on it so here we are! making it a series to allow myself time to dedicate meaningful energy to each scene and not rush them💕 est. chapters: prologue | mon | tue | wed | thurs | fri | sat | sun | seven days est. running dates: july-september 2023 taglist: sign up here (i check every entry so read the rules!) teaser: below the cut if you want a taste 🩵
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“Sure did,” Jungkook puffs before stepping away, taking all the tight space with him and letting you breathe again. “But all I’m saying is, you gotta lower your standards or—” 
“No.”
“Or,” he continues, giving you a look, “Not complain if they’re too high.” 
“Well, thank you.” With your nose grazing the sky, you point out, “I’d like to think they’re just right.” 
“What even are they anyway? All you’ve said is something about ten days.”
“That’s basically it,” you murmur, resting your arms on the island as to not have your chest in full view. “If I still like someone after ten days, I know I’d be fine dating them for real.” 
There’s silence when you finish. When you finally look, the gawk you’re getting in return almost makes you laugh. “What?”
“You mean those days are only a trial run?” 
You do break into laughter this time, burying your face in slight shyness. “And what about it!” 
“Are you serious—?” Jungkook rounds the island so that he can speak directly at your hidden features. “Has anyone even gotten past all ten with you?”
You pause, breath fanning the granite top beneath you and wisping around your face. When you lift your gaze above your arms, you keep it trained on the countertop instead of his curiosity, 
“No.” 
He doesn’t say a word. 
“Not since my standards changed.” 
And you think that’s the end of this conversation. Because what else is there to say? You know your expectations are impossible but you think this is a hell of a lot better than—
“I could do it.” 
“What.” A glare is shot. “Absolutely not.” 
“Why not?”
“You? No.” You shake your head. “You wouldn’t even last seven.” 
“Try me,” he challenges, and you still can’t take him seriously despite the fire in his eyes. “I’ve lasted a lot more than that as your roommate, right?” 
“But that’s—this is—this is different! Be for real, Kook.” You vacate the island and head to your room, having enough of his teasing for one morning. 
But you get stopped at the doorway, a bare chest and chains blocking your vision and sending your mind into a frenzy. When you flick your gaze to his face, he simply says, with the straightest expression,
“I am.”
--
--
--
tbc. :))
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🦋 soooo how do we feel !! | wanna be tagged? 🩵
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a/n: yeah idk what happened to me. one moment i was saying i wasn't gonna get bitten by the seven bug, and the next.. well. this happened lol. anyway! taglist is on a form so that i can easily keep track of who to tag. pls make sure to either tell me ur age in the survey or to have it on your blog bc i check all entries when tagging. prologue is already written and will be up soon! ++ ⇥ masterlist
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago
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End Game 9
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.
Characters: Andy Barber
Note: this wasn't my planned update but here we go.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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Your grandmother is where she always is. In her chair reading her book. She doesn’t look up and you don’t bother saying a word. She’s getting exactly what she’s always wanted and she doesn’t even realise it. She’s getting rid of you. Another thing you’ve done for her that she’ll never acknowledge. 
You go into your room and look around. You sit on the bed and examine each wall. You’re not going to miss this place, just your freedom. There is no illusion left around Andy. He’s shown how far he’ll go to make his will your own. You don’t expect him to ‘take care of you’ as he keeps promising, not in the way it sounds. 
You huff and hold your head. You’re not going to sleep. You don’t have time to. You have to figure out what to take with you. What do you tell your grandmother? She won’t care either way, will she. She’ll finally have her empty nest. At least someone will have what they want. 
You don’t have much to your name. Your switch, your headset, controllers; that’s the expensive stuff. Your clothes are mostly used, easily replaceable. You’re not really worried about dressing up. 
You spend the hours going through every little nook and cranny. You’re not sentimental, you don’t have much that it more than material. Only a box of keepsakes from the few years of your life; a friendship bracelet the neighbour girl gave you before she moved away, some meaningless award you won in grade school for attendance, and the only thing left to you by your parents, besides resent; a baby sweater you wore when they thought they could love you. 
You fit everything you’re taking in a single bag. The rest you box up and drag out to the curb. In the early hours, the house is quiet and you try not to make too much noise. Your grandmother’s snores stir from her room. She’s blissfully ignorant just as always. 
You strip the bed and put the sheets and blanket in the wash. Hopefully you can switch it over before you go. You wipe down the furniture with a wet cloth and dust the corners and the empty closet. You’re covered in sweat and breathless by the time you have the entire space barren. You’re so tired you’re dizzy but closing your eyes only brings Andy’s voice to mind. 
There’s a creak and you raise your head as the ripples dissipate. Your grandmother slouches as she clings to the door handle and scowls. She looks around the room and her grey brow twitches. 
“Eh, what’re you doing?” She growls, “making all this noise.” 
“Leaving,” you shrug. 
“Leaving? To where?” 
You’re dumbfounded she’s even asked. You sit up and show your hands, “gotta go back to school soon anyway so I’m going to crash with Kara. I’ll leave money on the table when I go.” 
“Oh.” 
That’s all she says before she goes. She believes you only because she doesn’t care enough to doubt you. You hang your head and sigh. You can’t help but think of what Andy said. You hate to admit it but he’s right. There’s no one else who wants you. It doesn’t make him a better option, just the only. 
Thinking makes your head hurt. Or maybe that’s the lack of sleep. You check your phone and wrap up the charging cord. Morning already. Nearly 7am. You spent hours clearing out your old life; a life that was never really living. 
There’s a message waiting for you. Two. Both from Andy. The first is a good night you never answered and the second from just twenty minutes ago, asking if you’re awake. You send a thumbs up. That’s all you can handle right now. 
The call comes almost as soon as the message sends and the check mark turns blue. You answer without hesitation. Your so numb to the inevitability of it all, there’s no sense in avoiding any of it. You just want this over with even though you know it won’t be. 
“Morning, sweetheart,” Andy purrs from the other end. Your throat clenches and your cheeks tug into a frown. “How are you?” 
You go to speak and cough, your mouth dry. You clear your throat and rub your forehead as it throbs with the effort, “awake. Packed.” 
“Oh, honey, you sound tired.” 
“Mm,” you hum flatly. 
“I couldn’t sleep either,” he says, “I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” He pauses, waiting for the lies you won’t give him. “Well, when do you wanna head out? Do you need a little more time?” 
“Ready,” you utter. Not really ready but resigned.  
“Sure, sweetheart, I’ll just get myself together and be over in twenty minutes, how does that sound?” 
Why is he asking you like you have a choice? You garble an agreement and hang up. You put the phone down as you sit on the naked mattress and stare. Your head is swimming with fatigue. As you close your eyes, the fear returns. You’re really doing this. 
You fold over your lap and whimper. It’s over, not that it ever really begun. Not that you were ever really expected much. You just wanted to be your own person, have your own space, make your own way. For once in your life, you just wanted to be you. 
Andy isn’t going to let that happen. You don’t know him but you know he wants you to be something you aren’t. Whether it’s delusion or cruelty, you don’t know, but you know something isn’t right. It can never be right. 
You get up and unlock your phone. You key in a message with the last of your strength; ‘meet me at the corner’. You don’t think she’ll bother herself but you wouldn’t want your grandma to see the truth. You’re not sure she’d even care enough to judge you. 
You come out as she grumbles into a coffee cup. You roll your bag behind you and grab your jacket from the hook by the door; a light canvas one you wear in the mornings when the dew chills the air. She stares at the television as the news blares at her. 
“Here,” you take out the little bit of cash you have left to your name and place it on the table at her elbow, “I’m... going now.” 
“Erm,” she grunts and slurps the coffee. She doesn’t even look at you. Should you tell her you’re not coming back? You leave your keys with the money 
You just turn and pull your bag after you to the door, stopping only to put your shoes on. You open the front door and step out into the soft hues of morning. It would be a beautiful day if the world hadn’t gone gray. 
Your bag wheels scratch the pavement behind you, the whole thing jostling at the end of the long handle. You head down to the corner and park yourself on the curb, waiting as your eyes rove the area. You take it all in; the fences, the hedges, the cracked birdbath, and the few welcome signs on doors. 
The low whir of an engine approaches. You know without looking it’s him. But you do. You have to face it. 
“Hey,” Andy steps out as you stand on the curb. “Let me get this, sweetheart.” 
He reaches back inside the car and hits a switch. The trunk opens on its own. Is it pathetic that you’re kind of impressed by that? You’ve only seen trunks that you open with your hands. He lifts your bag inside easily and taps another button, the hatch closing slowly behind him. 
“Come on, you look beat,” he touches your shoulder and you flinch, curling inward as you shake his hand away. “I brought you a coffee. Not the hotel brew, the good stuff.” 
You numbly follow him around to the other side. He opens the car door and you stare at the interior. You take a breath and grab the trim of the door and haul yourself inside. You drop heavily into the seat and your head bounces against the rest. 
He lingers. You feel his gaze on you. He’s expecting something you can’t give him. Not yet. You don’t know if ever. You let out a murmur as he leans in to kiss your cheek. You fight not to show your disgust. 
“Just relax. I’ll drive, you get some sleep, sweetheart,” he caresses your arm. You don’t react. Not a look, not a flinch. 
He shuts the door and walks along the hood. You watch him through the windshield. He’s wearing one of those suits. Dark navy slacks and white shirt with a black tie. You let your head loll and see the matching jacket folded neatly in the back seat. 
He gets in the car, his weight felt in the axle. He hits the button to wake the engine and buckles his belt. He glances over. 
“Hey, safety first.” 
You huff. He's acting like the dad you never had. You click the seat belt into place and turn your face to the window. He inhales deeply and lets it out slow before he puts the SUV into gear. 
“You say goodbye to grandma?” 
“Mm... mhmm,” you grumble. 
“She’ll miss you, huh?” 
Your lip curls and you hide your face as you focus on the houses rolling slowly by. Why is he playing this game? Did he not throw her apathy in your face to get here? 
“Did you bring your switch? We could play some at the hotel,” he offers. 
You close your eyes and ball your fists. It takes everything you have left not to scream and hit him. It’s like he’s rubbing it in. He won! He won! 
And you lost. Just like always. 
“What about Kara?” You ask crisply. 
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re hoarse. Try some of the coffee,” he reaches to flick the top of a travel mug. You narrow your eyes as you follow the gesture. The purplish pink metal is topped with a white plastic lid. On the side, the outline of a game controller is patterned on the multicoloured finish. “It’s a good brew. Only a few places I’ve found have it. I’ll take you to the shop back home once you’re settled.” 
You’re not arguing with him. You’ve seen how far that gets you. You take the cup and pop the tab on top. You take a tentative sip as you feel the heat within. 
“I added some sugar,” he says. 
“I don’t like sugar,” you snap the lid shut and put the lid back. 
“Oh, sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “guess we have a lot to learn about each other.” 
“Kara,” you insist again. 
He sighs and taps his fingers on the wheel, “I called last night. They’re holding her so we can pay the bond.” 
We? He’s not subtle. You sniff as your back racks with the sort of achiness that comes from being so tired. 
“I’ll talk to them. Get the charges knocked down. If anything, I can get them piled onto that boy she keeps around. He’s trouble, if I’ve ever seen it--” 
“Seen?” You echo, “have you... seen him?” 
He hesitates and his cheek dimples under his dark beard. He stares at the road ahead as his lips move as if he’s talking silently. Finally, he answers. 
“I only wanted to make sure you were safe. I know better than any that hanging out with the wrong crowd can get you into a lot of trouble--” 
“No, Andy, tell me. Were you watching her too?” You sit up with effort. 
“You should sleep, it’s a long drive,” he girds. 
“Andy, tell me--” 
“I had too. You cut me off and I had to be sure you were okay,” he insists. “And you weren’t. Not really. Sweetheart, things are going to be a lot better. Together. You just can’t see it right now because you never--” 
“Oh, I know what I’ve never had,” you fall back and slump against the door, “you don’t need to keep reminding me.” 
A roiling silence fills the compartment. He exhales again and slows as his blinker clicks noisily. He turns onto the next road as you feel his anxiety. Or maybe it’s your own. 
“I’m sorry. I only want...” he trails of as he measures his words, “I want to take care of you. To give you all that stuff. I don’t want you to feel bad.” 
“I’m tired,” you snip and fold your arms. 
“Right,” he says tensely, “yeah, get some sleep. Easier to talk after.” 
Talk? You’re done talking to him. He only says the same thing over and over again.  
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loriane-elmuerto · 5 days ago
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—WIP FRIDAY (whatever we ride)
got tagged by the lovelies @imogenkol and @d-esmond to share the latest and hottest i'm working on, thank you so much!!! 🥰🥰 warning: it's long
a little character study ft @shellibisshe's amazing oc Blythe <3
gonna tag (taglist to opt in/out for future content if you want!):
@viktorgf, @ghostfvcker, @roofgeese, @queennymeria, @florbelles, @jackiesarch, @risingsh0t, @countessrooster, @lucky-107, @unholymilf, @cryptcombat, @cptcassian, @thedeadthree, @carrionsflower, @frankwoods, @shadowglens, @sigmatiqvevo, @auricfog
There are several facts that can be treated as an undisputed and universal truth about the residents of the Lighthouse.
Firstly, Blythe Mercar has a soft spot for her friends. A couple of days prior, Jehan had very sweetly (read: dropping some key phrases such as "I'd be happy if you'd keep me company" and "we haven't had a chance to spend time together, just the two of us") asked the woman to accompany them to the Hossberg Wetlands in order to check on the surviving Grey Wardens. Blythe couldn't say no, there was something out there that made her fond of those dark and terrifying bogs.
Which is how she found herself sitting in the Lighthouse kitchen at the earliest hours of the morning, with dawn barely breaking out. Blythe, personally, would've preferred to wake up at least an hour or two later, but Jehan noted that their work may last through the entire day, and they did not want to get stuck in the bogs at nightfall.
The fireplace in front of her was casting a comforting, easy warmth, definitely not helping with the current dilemma of catching a few more winks or staying awake at all costs. Listening to the crackle of the wood, Blythe felt her mind slowly drifting. Maybe, if she breathes deep and closes her eyes for a minute, she'll—
"Mind if I join you, Rook?"
There goes that dream.
With her mind still trying to catch up to her, the mage slowly turned her head to the side, only to see Lucanis standing beside her, seemingly right after morning exercises, with a fresh cup of that hot chocolate drink in his hands. Which was now extended to her as a peace offering for disturbing her... Meditation. Allowing some of the frown to ease away from her forehead, Blythe took the cup and focused her attention to the fireplace once more. Lucanis took that as a sign of approval and sat down on the chair closest to her.
As the silence stretched on, the woman started to believe this would be their only interaction today, which was more than enough for her.
Unfortunately.
"Is there a problem between us?" Blythe had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes and groaning in response.
The second universal truth is that Lucanis Dellamorte has atrocious timing.
Seeing how the man was not planning to leave his spot any time soon, the mage decided to indulge his little interrogation.
"Is there?"
"You tell me. I've been on the receiving end of this... Attitude," Lucanis made a sweeping gesture with his free hand, "Ever since we met. We cannot be in the same room because you choose to leave every time I'm visiting someone else. And I've overheard what you've mentioned about me to the others, especially within my earshot." Blythe spared a glare in his direction and this did not escape the assassin's attention. "The walls can become thin when they want to be."
Rook could not deny these words. All of this had happened and more than once, from the moment they said their greetings, right until now.
But he was not the only wounded party here. Taking a sip of the hot chocolate, her eyes remaining fixed on the fire, she spat back, "And you did not hesitate, even once, to criticize me, in my face, around other people as well. Especially when we're out on the field. If I recall, your words were "impatient, impulsive, a danger to herself and others if left unchecked". Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"
Silence fell once more between them. Judging by the way Lucanis's head slowly lowered besides her, Blythe decided she won this duel. Was it a low blow? For a bystander, perhaps. To her, it was an equal swing, one of many they've been trading for months now. Seemingly, the intimate brush with death did little to change their opinions.
"I'm just trying to look out for you, you know."
Well that was unexpected.
The mage mentally patted herself on the back for not flinching in reaction to his confession.
"You're doing a shit job at it, then."
Lucanis was not quick to answer. He knew he had to choose his next words carefully. Otherwise, this relationship would not be one that can be salvaged any longer.
"I know. I've never been... Good with words, and I will be the first person to admit it. But I do not wish you ill, Blythe. Outside of the Lighthouse walls, I trust your abilities, and I always try to look out for you, just as I do for the others. Including Davrin, because I can see how important he is to you." The last sentence was a gamble on his part, and yet Lucanis dared to look at his companion, to see openly what her reaction will be.
In truth, Blythe did not have it in her to actually hate the man. Was he a nuisance and a daily annoyance? Unfortunately, for him, he was.
However, there was a truth to his words. Blythe had taken notice that Lucanis played no favorites, despite swirling rumors suggesting otherwise. More than once, she had found herself saved from a deadly enemy strike thanks to his keen eye and quick calls on the battlefield, not to mention his deadly abilities and swift daggers, always striking true. The woman would rather be caught dead than admit it out loud, but she has come to see Lucanis as an older sibling, who didn't hesitate to push her to her limits. Never out of sheer malice, always worried in his own, indecipherable way. The whetstones he bought her during one of his many trips to Treviso with Isadora was also in active use. The man always had an eye for quality.
Maker, why did she agree to this discussion at this hour?
After a few precious heartbeats, Rook met Lucanis's look with one of her own.
"Listen, I... Appreciate your efforts Lucanis, and I have noticed them, for whatever it's worth. But this discussion we're having right now? It happened because you decided to take a swing at me, and I will always swing lower. So if you want for us to not "have a problem", something needs to change with both of us, not just me."
Lucanis could physically feel a weight dropping from his chest. His relationship with Blythe has been a topic on his mind even before Aldonza demanded for the team to get their act together following the tragedy of Weisshaupt, yet he could not find the right words or the right time to approach her. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was afraid of the outcome.
"I agree. Here's to a better communication between us," Lucanis raised his cup, and Blythe met it with hers in the middle with a quiet clink.
Hearing the armoured footsteps approaching the dining room's doors, Blythe downed the remainder of her drink, set the cup on the table, and got up from her seat. Looking one last time at the assassin, she muttered a low "Thanks for this."
And she was off.
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c-c-cherry · 7 months ago
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Teru fic??
EDIT?** I've actually posted the full fic that this snippet is from. You'll probably have a more fulfilling time just reading it lol --> Click!
This is a response to the little wip "challenge" I posted a little while ago. Askbox is still open for those! (there's a few I still need to answer too) :)
Sorry this took so long! I wanna say…good choice? Probably because I’m almost done writing this one and then I can move onto editing. Assuming the Area Hysteria people reading this have also read Tenacious Terrain (building on one of the memory flashes involving Ritsu but also works as a standalone fic), this one follows a similar format.
I’ve been treating it as my warm-up to get back into Mob after awhile while simultaneously trying to write for the main AH storyline. But I also think publishing this story first might help with what I want to do later between Reigen and Teru if that makes sense? I think it fills a lot of unspoken gaps that I've really wanted to explore in the hysteriaverse so I've been having a lot of fun getting into it.
I’ll shut up now — here’s a snippy!
***
The pair walked down the street just as the sun started dipping below the trees. Reigen didn’t ask if Teru's parents were waiting for him at home, and he was grateful for it.
Teru usually found himself talking endlessly when going out with Kageyama or even Ritsu, just to fill up the fact that both usually didn’t say much at all. There was no need to do that with someone like Reigen. His energy could silence a room. Teru had seen it with Claw, the way everyone turned and gave him total control back when they first got captured. 
Reigen was evidently powerful in both the psychic world and the business world, but his words alone still poked through the sharpest of swords, more than Teru’s power ever could.
“Mob and I come here if we end up working past dinner,” Reigen held the door open for him, and Teru watched as the man greeted the host as if he knew her. He took off his jacket and gestured for Teru to follow. “This booth has the best view. It’s great while it's raining, but sunny weather will do just fine.”
The man rolled up his white sleeves and sighed in content. Teru attempted to relax his shoulders and calm his heart, pretending he wasn’t having dinner with Reigen Arataka, 21st century’s greatest psychic and Teru’s new temporary boss. Thoughts about what to do with that daunting guardianship form still plagued the back of his mind but he forced himself to push it back further and look up at the approaching waiter.
“No bowl-cut today?” she asked curiously, passing out the menus, “I haven’t seen the two of you come around here in a bit.” 
“Who, Mob?” Reigen chuckled, “The kid’s got a marathon at school to run. I’ve got a few of his friends helping me out.”
Teru melted into the foam booth, letting it press up against his back as the two conversed. It had been awhile since he’d felt this cozy. He wondered if it was the ambience of this place, or Reigen’s mere presence putting him at ease.
“Before I forget,” Reigen rummaged through his briefcase once they had both ordered and pulled out his phone. “I’ll give you my number so we can keep in touch. I might need you earlier or later depending on exorcism appointments. It’ll be nice to have you filed away for when I need you this week.”
Reigen wanted his phone number? Teru stared down at his food piping hot in front of him. He wondered if Reigen would pay for this, too. Based on what Kageyama had said about him, the man would no doubt slip a few bills on the table regardless of whether Teru pulled out his card to cover his half of the bill. Reigen would probably walk him home too while he was at it. 
“Sure, I-” he stuttered, trying to find his voice. This wasn’t like him. Reigen must have known that too, despite barely knowing him at all. The man leaned over and placed his hands up defensively, his rolled sleeves slipping back down and grey jacket discarded beside him.
“Unless you think that’s overstepping. I just like to have everyone’s names on hand. If you aren’t comfortable with it, don’t worry about it. I don’t have to have you on-call all the time like I do with Mob…though it would be pretty helpful for emergency exorcisms…” 
Teru didn’t wait around to hear what else the man was saying. Reigen was so confident, so powerful, so cool, and all Teru wanted to do was impress him. 
Be reliable. He could be reliable. 
Teru pulled out his phone, flipped through his contacts and tried to find the phone number that he still hadn’t memorized after getting a new number a few months back. His father had paid for it, of course. He hadn’t seen his father’s face in years, but the man still paid for everything so long as Teru could forge his signature.
His head went back to those stupid forms in his bag. To think the school had waited this long before asking him to prove his parents’ existence outside of a signature.
“Here,” he pushed his phone over to him, pulling a grin over his face. “I’d be happy to help you out in Kageyama’s stead as much as you need.” He’d even be willing to skip school, maybe never show up at school again if it meant no one would interrogate him about his familial situation. But perhaps that was a different kind of commitment. 
Reigen smiled back, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. “That was quick. Thanks a bunch, Hanaza—"
“—Teruki,” he corrected, before realizing that he’d interrupted Reigen Arataka, 21st Century’s Greatest Psychic and the only adult who had ever asked him for his number to make sure he was around and alright. “Teruki’s fine. Or Teru.”
Reigen snorted, taking his chopsticks and dipping them into his bowl. “Teruki for now. But don’t think you can just go around calling me Arataka…at least, not in front of Ritsu. Sometimes it feels like that kid is just trying to find his footing before pouncing on someone like me.” Reigen’s eyes locked onto him, suddenly serious. “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for a dead man…would you, kid?” 
“Oh,” Teru’s face surely looked stupid, the way it glowed. “No, I would never—”
“Kids these days are so dense! I’m just messing around,” the man snickered back, followed by the slurping of noodles. “Mmmh..this place never fails to amaze my taste buds after such a long day.” He banged on the table softly with his fist. “Well, eat up! Here’s to a very productive first day.”
A thought grazed Teru’s head as he tipped the bowl up to his lips. 
It was a very selfish, self-serving thought. One that accompanied a methodical plan that slowly began to form in the back of his mind. Reigen was a responsible, giving person. He was mystical, busy, a very busy man. He lived here in Seasoning City. If Teru could guess, he was almost at the age of 30—a very responsible age for a very responsible, reliable, busy man. He was a model citizen, really. He even went above and beyond to inspire others around him.
As of this moment, Teru worked alongside Reigen. He had access to his files, which probably contained most of his information if he looked around hard enough for it. Maybe this would finally get the school off his back. 
And who says the man even has to know?
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tavyliasin · 1 year ago
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“Pain doesn’t scare me, Abdirak. It is my constant companion, it seeps into every bone, every muscle, it rears its head and bites at me when I least expect, it twists my nerves to the point I should rightfully scream…but even agony can’t sustain a scream that lasts a lifetime.” You found yourself becoming more poetic, an easy cover for the deep aches that even now threatened to steal your senses. It was easier to rely on a lifetime of masking, turning whatever harmed you into something creative, something beautiful, always a vain attempt to deny the reality around you. “Besides, I can barely walk across the room, let alone think of running.” “Dearest One, I can feel it from here, now. Your eyes speak it clearer than your precious voice…” His eyes did not leave yours, softening with understanding as he read the truth from you like an open book. “Agony is a cloak that you wear, an armour you cannot remove, it is as bound to you as the guilt you feel for its very presence. I envy you…but you did not choose this path. Your guilt does not serve you.” He took the empty glass from your hand, the brief touch of his fingers reminding you of the feelings you had when you first saw him on a screen. He was…warmer than you expected. “You’re welcome to my nerves, I’ve had quite enough for one lifetime.” You smiled, almost falling back on the fake laugh you forced whenever you told someone you felt fine on a day your bones felt like they were trying to tear free from your flesh. The empty glass was now back on the table, and he was in front of you once more. Closer, this time. His hand reached towards you, fingers curling as he stroked your cheek softly with the back of his hand. “You need not of my penance, no, you need a different hand to alleviate the weight in your soul. I can show you what else your body can feel, if that is what you wish.” You stayed silent, he was so close now you could smell the slight scent of coppery blood and hot leather, mixed with a warmer note…a perfume?... Unexpected, but it was something akin to a spiced rum. Rich, heated, and a little dangerous.  “You may consider it a gift, for the generosity of your soul screaming out to the beloved Maiden of Pain, you can sing in a different tune so all the gods may hear it.” His hand caressed the line of your chin, cupping your cheek in his palm. You leaned your face towards the warmth instinctively as he brought his lips to your opposite ear with a low whisper. “Would you like that, Dearest One? To let the heavens and hells echo with the voice I can draw from within you?” The heat rose through you like a furnace, the sound waves ricocheting through your mind and body with the promise in his words. But there was one word more important first. “Reality.” You said as calmly as you could manage, his lips pressing a kiss to the edge of your ear with a surprising softness. “That is my safe word, when I want to return to Reality I will say just that, or I’ll hum this tune.” A simple melody from an old song you loved rumbled through your throat, perhaps a little off key, but the notes and pattern would be instantly distinguished from any passionate noises. “Of course, your word is my command. It shall be as if Loviatar herself whispered it to me. But I need to hear it from you clearly,” he kissed your cheek before guiding you to face his cool grey eyes. “Do you want what I wish to offer you? The love of the Maiden, along with my own?”
A little preview of a side fic I'm writing. I have about 4 WIPs on the go right now but I'm chasing the inspiration where it arises~ This one is Abdirak x Reader, and will be a dedication to all those in the community who live with chronic pain like an unpleasant roommate who refuses to move out. Abdirak understands pain, and carries a softness within him for someone who has such an intimate relationship with agony. So, darlings, how would you answer him? I'm going to finish this one when I wake in a few hours, then go back to writing Abdirak x He Who Was, which is currently over 6,000 words and about halfway done~ See you on the other side, loves, may Loviatar show you mercy.
EDIT - FULL FIC LINK HERE
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pjisskullourful · 10 months ago
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this wip doesnt have an official title, so read it& vote in the poll to help me pick!
its the thomas knife kink fic& its at 2.4k words
Not many people knew about Thomas' collection of knives. Everyone collected something and for your boyfriend, it was different types of knives. He had them in every possible type, from all different price ranges, in varying degrees of ornateness. It was more than you could have possibly imagined when he offered to show you his 'little assortment' on your fourth visit to his apartment.
To someone else this might have been a scary moment, it could have been perceived as a threat. But by that point you had been well on your way to falling in love with him. You were captivated by him, fascinated by every detail you learnt and greedy to know them all. You had enjoyed the pride on his face as he showed the collection off to you, neatly and safely stored away.
There was a lot to admire in his catalogue. Your eyes had been especially drawn to the daggers with elegant and unique handles. But you also appreciated the blades with appearances so modern and streamlined that they almost looked like they were from the future.
Some had been made especially for him, which was seriously impressive. He had offered to teach you how to throw knives, a skill his dad had long ago shared with him.
He had let you hold a few of his favourites from the collection. You had liked the way they each felt in your hand, instantly getting the appeal of owning such an item.
But what you had liked most of all was the way the knife looked in his hand. It had prompted staring. What you had seen on his face was the calmness of a man confident in the control he wielded. It was somewhat similar to the look he wore when performing a guitar solo before a huge crowd, when he tapped into his talent and let his instincts lead the way.
It had also reminded you of the look he got when he was sexually dominating you. Once the knives were returned to their safe holds, you had put the moves on him. He had gone along with your seductive efforts, resulting in you getting fucked against a wall in the room where the knives were kept. That had been the first instance of him (or anyone) spitting on you, and your immediate reaction had been to say ‘thank you, Daddy’.
At the time, you had assumed it was the look on his face that had gotten you so enticed and insatiable.
But when he got home from a shopping excursion with Victoria, talking about the new knife he had purchased and your first reaction was to get very excited - it seemed a deeper assessment of the situation was necessary. You admitted to yourself that it was more than wanting him to show off the possession, as you would with a new jacket, or another thrift store find.
This wasn’t about seeing the dagger. This was about seeing him with it, what he would do with it. You wanted to watch him harness the danger, wanted to witness him exerting the control.
“Show me your new toy.” You said, moving in closer to where he had joined you on the sofa.
He paused, not diving his hands into the shopping bags within reach, instead giving you a look bordering on stern. “My love, the knives are not toys, not even a little bit.”
“Well I know that. I just meant that the way you collect them is like how people collect toys. And you wanna show it off to me like a kid with a new toy, don’t you?”
This got him to begin subtly smiling. “I do wanna show it off. Especially this one, it’s sick.”
You smiled, watching as he picked up the bag that held his new dagger. He pulled it out and brought it out of the provided fabric sheath. The handle was brushed metal with some patterning that drew the eye to a skull print centrepiece, in a darker shade of grey. The darker grey pattern carried through onto the base of the blade, which was polished silver. He told you that this shape was called Wharncliffe, but this particular blade was longer than what was standard. You nodded along - it was impossible to tell if you would retain any of this information, but you loved getting to hear it all.
He held the handle out to you. "Do you wanna hold it?"
"No, I don't need to hold it. I can see it fine from here." You said.
He gently gestured through the air with it and you couldn't help noticing how sharp that long blade looked, catching the overhead light. "Are you sure? 'Cause you're really looking at it, studying it, I'd say. So you can look at it closer, if you need to."
"I'm not-... I like watching you with it." You said, your voice a bit quieter than before.
He smiled and placed the end of the handle beneath your chin, maintaining enough pressure to ensure that you couldn't look away from his gaze. "You like it? What does it make you feel?"
You bit your bottom lip. "I don't know how to say it in a way that won't make you think I'm weird."
"When have I ever thought you were weird, or judged you for feeling a certain way?" He asked.
"You've never done that." You said.
"That's right, so tell me what you're feeling. Don't make me wait, my love." He said.
You shifted in your seat. "I don't really know how to explain it correctly because I'm still figuring it out for myself."
"It doesn't have to be eloquent, it should just be honest." He said.
You nodded your head, though the movement was more restricted than usual. "I'm feeling like I'm vulnerable, really vulnerable. But I don't hate it, in fact I think it's making me horny. I'm really concentrating on everything that's happening, like, I'm not the least bit distracted. And I'm so, so aware of how much my heart is beating." 
"That wasn't so hard to tell me, was it?" He asked.
"No."
"Maybe we could explore this a little more?" He asked and that had your breath coming in quicker. “What’s your safe word?”
“Cheese.” You obediently provided, knowing that his goal wasn’t to push you to the point where you had to say it.
He took the knife away from your chin, holding it closer to his own chest for the moment. In a flash, he had repositioned on the sofa, putting his feet to the cushion as he crouched. His empty hand went to your hip, guiding you to face him all the more. Then he was leaning his body weight into you, pushing your back down to the seat.
You happily went along with this, hurrying to kiss him back as he climbed on top of you. The room shrank down to just this sofa as his body perfectly overlapped yours. You took your first opportunity to wrap your arms around him, holding him close as the kiss drew on. You felt him apply his hips to yours. He supported himself with both hands on the sofa, the knife held in the hand that was on the backrest.
“Is this helping with that horny feeling you were telling me about, my love?” He asked.
You began to push your hands in under his shirt, feeling the need to answer with actions as well as words. “Definitely.”
There was a smile on his face as he tilted his head, moving in closer again. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were anticipating the next kiss. He surprised you by instead dragging his tongue along your upper lip.
As he drew his tongue back into his mouth, he also brought your upper lip in as well. He concentrated his kisses just on this lip before progressing to sucking. You moaned in response to feeling the graze of his teeth on your tender flesh, he teased you with a hint of pressure and you wanted to assert that the lip belonged to him, along with the rest of your body. The prospect of his continuing nibbling doing damage to the lip prompted an excited heat to spread beneath your skin.
When he pulled back you were breathless, feeling your neediness rising up as a tangible presence within your body. As the wait for his next move continued, you opened your eyes.
That was when you saw the knife, it was directly in your line of sight. Your breathing immediately shallowed when you saw how he had brought it towards your face. The room shrank down even further as you stared at that blade closer than before. He was holding it by the handle, perfectly in control of the weapon inches from your face. He twirled it in his hand, allowing you to watch the blade slowly turn in a complete circle, drawing your attention to how sharp it appeared.
He licked his lips as he smiled. “Are you still feeling really vulnerable?”
“Yes, yes I am.” You said.
“Great, ‘cause that’s how Daddy wants you.” He said and you squirmed through your mounting anticipation. “You’re so sexy like this.”
He moved the knife a little lower, now directed toward your throat, but the distance between the blade and your skin was comforting. You trusted that the only threat was for the sake of play, so you could concentrate on returning his next kisses.
His kisses were slow and sensual. It wasn’t like when he rushed at you in a frenzy of passion, seemingly hellbent on robbing you of any breath. He was moving carefully, probably testing at your patience for his own amusement. His lips lingered and you were feeling only brief touches from the tip of his tongue.
It was lovely, but you needed so much more. You followed your yearning because you knew how much it turned him on to see you desperate. For a pause his mouth left yours and you felt him ease back a little. But you refused to accept this. With your eyes shut, you began to lift your head, determined to recapture his mouth.
Before you could reach him, you felt something cool and thin reach the skin on your throat. You furrowed your brow at this unexpected, solid item touching you.
You opened your eyes to the sight of him smiling, looking even more pleased now. From your point of view, you couldn’t see what he was holding against you. But you could see his fist and what his fingers were wrapped around. The handle of his brand new dagger.
You laid your head down again, your breath stopping for a moment. The look in his eyes was of control and certainty. He was confident in what he was doing, possessing all of the authority that he needed.
“Bella, should we keep playing?” He asked.
“Play? But I thought you said they’re not toys.” You said.
“The knives aren’t toys. But you- you’re my toy.” He clarified, making your heart flutter. “Get it?”
You just nodded your head, your concentration going to committing what he had just said to memory. It was instantly going into your mental Hall of Fame as possibly the hottest thing ever said to you. You would be thinking about this (and the tone of his voice and the way he was currently looking at you) long after you left his home next. This was as significant to you as the first time he had said I love you, maybe it was just as flattering.
His gaze softened momentarily. “Do you want to, or need to stop playing?”
“No.” You said at once. “I trust you, Thomas.”
You saw how this pleased him before the firm dominant took over again. “Do you wanna kiss me?”
“Always.” It felt like you were stating the obvious.
He remained leaning just outside of what you could reach to kiss, continuing to hold the knife hovering above your skin. “Come on then, come and give me a kiss- or thirty, or however many you want.”
You didn’t try to get a look at the dagger. Instead you kept your eyes on your goal - him.
There was some intimidation, which he was certainly aware of. But the arousal was so much stronger, it was overpowering, in fact. You needed him so badly that you would do whatever it took. You lifted your head and leaned forward.
The dagger touched your skin and you were determined to push through the trepidation. There wasn’t any pain when it pushed against you and then you got to his lips.
He kissed you back with as much intensity as before and you were feeling like you had genuinely claimed a prize. His unoccupied fingers caressed the side of your face as you savoured just how connected your bodies felt.
But then you started to notice the distance between your mouths. He wasn’t as close as you needed and little pauses separated one kiss from the next. This could have been time to catch your breath, but you would have much preferred to feel his lips and tongue. He brushed his nose against yours, then didn’t follow this up with a kiss.
So you extended yourself again, making the kiss happen. The blade was now firmly pressed into your skin, rigid and unyielding. But this wasn’t the detail that you concentrated on. You lived for the collisions of your mouths, he was letting you suck on his lip a bit.
He stroked your skin and it seemed ultra-soft in contrast to the sting that the blade had begun to bring. Your heart was thundering in your ears, but you couldn’t stop to acknowledge this.
He brought about the next stop. Sensing that he had moved a bit too far this time, you unhappily opened your eyes. The knife was just as close but he had propped himself up and entirely out of kissing range.
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danceswithdarkspawn · 2 years ago
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First Ten Lines
@axolotlsupremacyowo tagged me for this interesting game I haven't seen yet. Big Heckin' Open Tag because it's still way too early and I need more sleep.
Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway!
Bear with me because a lot of these are sitting in my drafts waiting to be edited. >.>;
The Queen of Swords (WIP)
It started with a proposition.
It was on a day she couldn’t quite remember, maybe a week or better after returning from Adamant. Elisabeth sat in Skyhold’s gardens, reading and rereading over the same three paragraphs of a letter. It arrived early the previous day, sat in squalor upon the Inquisitor’s desk, before she finally snatched it. And how she dreaded it, because it was filled with pretty words from pissed off nobles, dancing around displeasure over the Inquisition’s actions at Adamant.
So when the sun cast a long shadow over and beyond her, she looked up, squinting harshly, and found the Iron Bull, all greyskin and muscle, towering over her. His good eye peered at her from over his crossed arms, but his face remained otherwise neutral.
“Hey, boss.”
“You’re blocking my light,” she said, and looked back to her papers.
Two of Swords
To say that the events at Adamant were demoralizing would be…insufficient.
True, Elisabeth Trevelyan gave Inquisition forces and the remaining Wardens a rallying speech once she emerged from the Fade. She made an appeal to the Wardens to unite under the Inquisition’s banner, to fight the common enemy that brazenly showed its face there. And to her credit, it worked. Even her companions who opposed the idea acquiesced to the prospect, however unsavory.
But the fragile quiet could only last for so long. The adrenaline that carried the Inquisitor through the siege, the Fade, through that impassioned speech for change…By the time the Inquisition made its way back to their outpost at Griffon Wing Keep, Elisabeth wanted nothing more than to collapse in her tent.
A Small Victory
One of my earliest memories is the first day Eran taught me to pick up a sword.
It was just after my sixth nameday in the waning days of summer. Eran woke me in the small hours of the morning, way too early for any of my small-self sensibilities. I remember him dressing me in the dark and taking me by the hand, leading me out into the dirt path street and to the quietest corner of the alienage that he could. I remember the smell of the final gasp of the season’s wildflowers, remember feeling the heaviness of the air. A promise of a sweltering day.
Stricken Canticles (M, NSFW if clicking through)
The glittering tiles of the Grand Cathedral are immaculate, but they cannot compare to the stars in her eyes.
She leads me away from all the fuss and flurry, navigating rooms and corridors known only to the privy. The walls are gilded but so is she, resplendent in the moonlight that reaches through stained glass windows.
A Letter to Swallow (WIP)
The days meld into one another, as they have every day for what feels like Ages on end.
19th of August. 9:41 Dragon. I keep track in a journal if only to remind me of the passage of time. Of how many days, weeks—years have gone by since I saw her. A reminder, also, of the time I have left. 
Mourning Dove (WIP)
“I came here seeking Grey Warden recruits,” that shem had said. What was his name—Duncan? “It seems it may have found what I seek. Someone who can show restraint is a valuable asset to the Wardens, especially in times like these.”
I wonder if Duncan thought the same when I delivered my sister and the others from Arl Kendell’s estate. Bathed in blood, wild-eyed and furious doesn’t strike me as the image of restraint.
Remove The Mask (WIP)
Everything was too much.  The grandeur of it all made her teeth ache.
The lights were too bright. The heat was too stifling. The string quartet sounded like dying darkspawn, regardless of the melody it played. Innumerable voices speaking in hushed whispers, low like the thrum of insects, grated against the inside of her skull.
For the Love of Nugs
"Nug breeding, eh?" 
Leliana looked over her shoulder at Ariel as they walked through the gardens back to the villa. "You sound like that's unexpected."
Ariel shrugged. "I'm just wondering what kind of monster I made wrangling Schmooples all those years ago."
Broken Bird, Chapter 1
We clash together in the predawn grey, as we always do after the events of Ostagar.
Eran moves with all the calculation of an eagle, shoulders squared, as he lunges towards me. His sword comes down from his shoulder in an arc, exacting where I will be when it crashes. I catch it in time between the cross of my swords; it was a light-hearted swing and he knows I know this. I shove him away with a frustrated grunt.
Griffonheart, Chapter 1
"Leliana,
Situation at ritual site in the Approach was as bad as it sounded. There was blood magic. They were using Wardens to summon and bind demons. That's where the demon army I was told about in Redcliffe will come from.
We neutralized the Wardens and demons at the site but the person behind this bullshit got away. Hawke has a lead on Adamant Fortress.
Corypheus planted false Callings in their heads. They were terrified. Attached are some notes from affected Wardens, courtesy of Stroud.
I don't know what else to say except it's fucked.
-R. Lavellan"
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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago
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Intro and masterlist
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✨about me ✨
this is a mature blog, I trust all minors to be responsible and avoid everything marked NSFW!
NSFW sideblog: @pervstash-spencer
Hi! my name is emily, I'm 23 she/they
Capricorn, bisexual, non-binary, autistic, and I have fibromyalgia ✌🏻 overall just a fun time y'know.
ao3
i love: supernatural, star trek, marvel movies, criminal minds, this is us and grey's anatomy !!
Accepting requests for Spencer Reid x Reader fics currently
all my tags are listed below if you want to see other posts about said fics, also here is my Spotify for the fics <3
Dad!spencer Masterlist
First times Masterlist**
all links to my fics below the cut!
Updated: July 28th, 2021
** for smut
~~ for angst
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Spencer Reid x Reader fics
Hypothetically**~ Ao3 | Tumblr -- 27 chapters, complete. 89k
reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.
friends to lovers, case of the week style story
touch me**~ Ao3 | Tumblr 5.8k
Spencer is incredibly touch-starved and hard on himself since coming home from prison. Luckily, the medical examiner in this small town is really good at reading people, and exactly what he needs.
amethyst you so much P1 Ao3 | Tumblr 6.4k
Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.
of quartz i will P2** Ao3 | Tumblr 6K
after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.
Amoreena**~ Ao3 | Tumblr Completed 83k
Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.
Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.
Seven* Tumblr WIP
Summary: Spencer’s been married to Y/N for 7 years now, they have 7 children together and each one is going through something different. Spencer’s always wanted to be the best dad, now he gets to figure out how to be.
the guy at the rock show Ao3 | Tumblr 5.6K
Y/N lost their parents when they were 17, finding a new home and solace in Penelope Garcia and taking the Garcia name. They're the top forensic specialist in D.C, in a band and they drive a motorcycle... not to mention they are madly in love with the cute doctor who works with their sister.
journey to Camelot** Ao3 | Tumblr 3.8K
When Penelope introduces Spencer to online games, he expects to be spending his nights alone. Yet, somehow every time he comes back from a bad case, he logs on to chat with the ever so lovely user FairlyGwen and getting a lot more than just a helpful tip from her.
Exploration** Ao3 | Tumblr 4.7K
request: season1/2 spencer walking in on reader while she's watching porn in their shared hotel room
Expedition** Tumblr 1.2K
Summary: there's a first time for everything... including joining the mile high club with your boyfriend on the work jet.
10 Days Ao3 | Tumblr 1.4K
it's spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are.
ain't it fun?** Ao3 | Tumblr Masterlist 11K
reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.
I'm not kidding!** Tumblr 6K
Spencer keeps getting little notes from a secret admirer, they're nice and sweet at first as they tease him with their crush until she's sending him notes about all the dirty things she wants to do to him
Perfect Timing** Tumblr 1K
spencer and reader have been spending the last month together in the same hotel room during a pretty brutal case. tension has been rising and she's completely in love with him.
what happens when they both think the other won't be back for a while and they want to shower?
Redamancy** Tumblr 5.4K
the co-op librarian at the FBI Academy has been secretly crushing on the smartest agent in the Bureau, TA, Doctor Spencer Reid, and he's been crushing on her too.
Being Neighbourly** Tumblr 1.9K
Request: reader is Spencers neighbour and she can hear him masturbating every night that he's home how do you have her deal with that?
Professional Hair Dresser (Ph.D)** Tumblr 6.4K
summary: after Spencer's knee injury, he starts visiting a salon every week to get his hair washed
36 Questions to Fall in Love Tumblr 8K
Summary: When Derek bets Spencer that he cant make someone fall in love with him in a week, he doesn’t expect Spencer to marry the girl the next day
New Romantics** Tumblr 23k
Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.
Million Dollar Man** | Tumblr WIP 5k so far
summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.
Sugar, Honey, Ice Tea** | Y/N version | 1-4, 5-9, Epilogue 25.6k
Summary: Fix-it-fic: Dr. Y/L/N and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.
Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Prison, Prison Violence, Assault, Blood, Depression, Murder, Self-Hatred, Hurt Spencer Reid, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Drug Addiction, References to Drugs, Drug Use, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Romantic Tension, Forbidden Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Requited Love, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, past abusive relationship, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Spencer x Ethan
Ruin it.** Tumblr 5.4K
Summary: Spencer never had sleepovers as a kid, so now that he's an adult he's always sleeping over at Ethan's house, ad he'll take any excuse to crawl into bed beside him.
Warnings: mutual pining, love concessions, blowjobs, handjobs, anal sex (both top and bottom spencer in this), childhood friends to lovers
400 Celebration fics
Reid Me Tumblr 2.5K
Spencer has noticed a beautiful woman at a spirituality booth at the farmers market every Saturday for almost a whole year now. he finally asks her to give him a reading.
mystery of love Tumblr 700
Spencer surprises his wife with a trip to Italy.
Spy Kids Tumblr 900
Spencer and Y/N's kids think that they are secretly spies and request a mission story before bed.
a father's greatest weakness Tumblr 1K
Princess Y/N is betrothed to the Viking king in an effort by her father to keep the peace between their countries, he doesn't expect her to join in the fight to free Scottland.
Luke x Reader
Best Dad Ever 2.8K
Request: angst with a happy ending, reader and luke have been divorced for a few years but have a child, she tries and tries to fall out of love with him but he's around so often that she can't
Spencer x OC
Sugar Honey Ice Tea** Ao3 | WIP 9/10 chapters complete 25.6K
Fix-it-fic: Dr. Beth Pattinson and Savannah Hayes have been best friends since their medical internship at Bethesda General. When she receives a frantic call that Derek's best friend is being transferred to the prison she works at, an unlikely friendship bubbles.
Eventually falling head over heels for the innocent man.
Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It Ao3 | Tumblr WIP 6K+
Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.
Criminal Minds x Mindhunter AU
Spencer x OC Peggy Carr
Franklin x Reader
Voulez-Vouz** | 3.2k
Summary: in a small town, everyone knows each other… or at least they think they do.
Warnings: porn with plot, smut, Dom reader, Sub!Perv!franklin, making out, teasing, face sitting, oral (female and male), hand jobs, overstimulation, prostate message, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, let me know if I forgot anything.
Chip x Reader
forever is the sweetest con** | 6.2K
Summary: Reader’s dad is a carpenter; sometimes he takes on apprentices and sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get his daughter’s number at the end of their training. Chip Taylor, however, hits the jackpot when her father invites him over for one of her homecooked meals.
Warnings: reader’s mom passed away, mentions of parental death, strangers to lovers, random acts of kindness, mutual pining, falling in love, steamy make-outs, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, sub!chip, food mentions, praise, love confessions.
Raymond x Reader
Alone Together ** | 2.4K
Summary: Raymond moves into a haunted house and ends up sleeping with the ghost who lives there... only he doesn't know that when you fuck a ghost you also become one.
Warnings: details of suicide and murder, blowjobs, pegging, bottom!raymond, top!reader, becoming a ghost, major character death.
Star Trek Masterlist
Star Wars fix it fic
Supernatural masterlist
thanks for all the love, as always,
-Emily <3
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a-detraque-barista · 3 years ago
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Seorilian
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Yandere Alien Kim Namjoon x Alien Reader
Genre: Space au, yandere (later), joonie’s kind of a dicc in this
Word Count: 1.7k+
A/N: this has been sitting in my wips for a w h i l e, but here is the first part of my new series <3
The tell-tale bright red light flashed over and over, alarming all those around that an emergency is occurring. A faint robotic voice speaking in a language you can’t understand.
Maybe something along the lines of “a prisoner has escaped” or “the Martian has broken out of their cell and took down three, now five guards”. You would’ve known if you hadn’t skipped over the universal language course.
Now how the fuck were you supposed to get off this ship? It’s a maze with no end. Countless guards and soldiers try to stop you but you take them down just as you had been trained to do. The last thing you want is to be taken back to their planet and questioned for whatever objective they wish to achieve with capturing a Martian. By the looks of the written language along the endless corridors, you think it’s Seorilian, home of the intelligent yet brutal extraterrestrial race.
You laugh at the sight of two guards running into each other as if they were in a cartoon. This made the Seorilians even angrier due to being mocked, something that didn’t happen often. With newfound anger and motive, the guards chased after you as you ran down yet another hallway. Blindly turning again and again until sliding down a flight of stairs that appeared to lead to the lowest level of the ship. 
Your eyes still had not adjusted to the stark contrast in lighting so you ran towards, hoping it would lead you to an exit of some sort. Your irises finally adjusted to allow as much light in as possible, to let you be able to see the door you were running towards.
If only you were able to read what the sign on the door said. It could be anything from an escape pod room, to a waste dump, or to even where off-duty guards and soldiers waited for their next shift. 
You could only find out if you could open the door, that was locked with a voice scanner security system. Meaning, you would have to sound like someone of authority on this ship and speak their language. 
Your lungs burned and the muscles in your legs were twitching from the strain you’ve put them through. You were tired and there was no other visible way out. The beings behind you were yelling at you. 
So you slowly raise your hands for them to see, surrendering to the ones who were going to take you to be experimented on.
The Seorilians were always ones to study the unknown. Picking apart their subjects to see how they work and what secrets may lie beneath the surface. Seorilians were never able to get their hands on a Martian before, so you being the first was most definitely not something to be proud of. Who could blame you though? Being taken straight from your mentor’s grip as all she could do was reach out for you. She was an Earthan, being restricted to however long her oxygen tube would reach. You just hope she was able to alert your fellow warriors.
Your hands were immediately restrained in heavy iron cuffs with a chain attaching to the cuffs around your ankles. The guards dragged you to the pilot’s den, throwing you in the steel cage they kept for more violent and dangerous prisoners such as yourself. The cage was small, there wasn’t even enough room for another being. The Seorilians went on and on about something you couldn’t decipher. Their language is one of the most complex tongues in the universe. 
It took merely ten minutes to arrive at their home planet. The dull grey planet was in the middle of its winter season. Thin clouds began to collide with others, making them a shade darker every time they fused with more. A climate feature only the Seorilian planet contained. Mars rarely ever got clouds, you wonder what they look like from underneath them.
Your thoughts were interrupted when civilization was now in sight. Countless beings roamed around, advanced technology helping some, other spaceships flew around and past the one you were in. You’ve never seen so many people in one area before. You couldn’t help but lean against the bars to try and take a closer look out of the window. Your eyes were filled with wonder and curiosity.
One of the crewmen noticed your movement and found himself staring at you. He’s never seen someone so excited to see his planet. Then again, he’s never seen a Martian in person. His eyes scanned your appearance. Your skin had a red tint, contrasting their porcelain-like skin. Your eyes were like what Earthans call ‘demons’. Your eyeballs were black and your irises were red, surrounding your black pupils. Your scaly tail was bound to your torso by a separate chain they had wrapped around you. He’s never seen a being like you before. He was borderline entranced by you. Their leader was going to like you very much.
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“Begin research on the Martian immediately,” the translator deciphered to you from the words the Seorilian leader had announced.
The leader being, Kim Namjoon, as the translator introduced you. His dark eyes were, without a doubt, intimidating. The way they looked right into you with nothing but irritation was terrifying. His men could beat you all they wanted and he wouldn’t care. The leader would suck in his cheeks ever so slightly, giving the effect of him looking pissed. Once the guards told him you were a Martian, his stoic face turned sadistic. 
“A fine specimen to experiment on,” as the translator said.
Your crimson eyes bored into his amber ones, refusing to show your fear. You wouldn’t let this fuck with your mind just yet. You can hate yourself all you want when you get back home safely. Whether that be with the help of your kind or by yourself.
The translator gave you a look of pity before you were taken away to a lower level of the palace. Screams, yells, and cries could be heard as they dragged you down the long and dark corridor. There were too many species to count. Every single one had their own cell, yours being down by the end.
One soldier held a gun to the back of your head while the other undid your shackles. Pushing you in the cell, they chuckled while making their way back to the lift. Your cell consisted of a scratchy mat on the floor and...a hole in the floor across from it. 
There’s no way in Pluto, you’re going to be staying here. One thing Martians were known for was being able to improvise. You took the mat from the floor and wrapped it around two of the electric bars holding you in the cell. The mat was thick enough to absorb the right amount electricity so you can only feel a light zap every now and then.
These bars were made with a flaw. The bars were weak from the constant energy running through them. So you wrapped both of your hands and your tail around the mat and pulled with all your strength. The bars broke causing sparks to flow around the cell but you jumped through opening and ran towards the lift you had been brought down on.
More yells and shouts came from the other prisoners but you didn’t slow down. You remember which floor you entered the castle on, hopefully there was a back entrance where you can avoid the majority of the soldiers and guards. You had no idea how you were going to get off this planet. You couldn’t even manage to get off one of their ships.
You quickly made your way through what seemed to be the kitchen. Knives and pans were thrown at you, all missing their target. Just as you had hoped, there was a back door to this place. Swinging it open, you were met with none other than Kim Namjoon. His smirk grew before knocking you out with some kind of laser gun.
Namjoon looked down at you on the floor. The fact you managed to even get out of the cell was impressive, he had to admit. He’s beginning to see why Martians were always so good at avoiding him and his constant attempts to capture at least one of you. The universe knew very little about your kind but Namjoon was going to change that. He’s going to find out everything he can about you and your planet. Obviously, locking you up wasn’t going to work. 
He’s going to have to gain your trust, no matter what.
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Your eyelids fluttered open, burning from the intruding light. You were no longer laying on the ground. Instead, you were laying in a plush bed, covered in soft blankets. This was more comfortable than your own bed at home. You sighed, this was nice.
Right, this wasn’t your bed. You shot up and looked around the room. The walls were an iridescent color you’ve never seen before. The floor matching the walls. A large circular window was in the wall to your left, showing all the spaceships, flying cars, and magne-trains that were passing by.
Amazing. You’ve never seen such advancement on one planet before. Mars only really had hover-bikes and bullet trains. Martians focused more on economic and environmental improvement.
“Finally, you’re awake,” Namjoon had snuck in through the door and watched your awing expression with amusement.
Your head snapped to face him. Now that he wasn’t sitting or ambushing you, you finally realized just how tall he was. The natural sunlight hit his porcelain skin at an angle in which it caused his skin to look almost as iridescent as the walls.
How pretty…
“Come on, you’ll have time to ogle at me all you want over lunch,” he turned around to leave but you stayed in your spot on the bed.
Lunch? As if you were going to join this bastard in a meal. He wants to experiment on you, not caring about what will actually happen to you. He probably wouldn’t care if you died during one of the experiments. He’d just say, “Ah well, time to get another one.”
He noticed your lack of movement and gave you one of the scariest death stares you’ve ever received. Quickly you kick the blankets off while stumbling to your feet. You had to stay alive long enough for you to escape. Even if that meant getting humiliated for the time being.
@mwitsmejk @kooksmataes
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rataltouille · 4 years ago
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[start id / a photo of a bronze-coloured statue on a brown background facing a golden globe of yellow-white light. over the image, in serif font, is the text “a million homes and none of them is yours” / end id]
A MILLION HOMES AND NONE OF THEM IS YOURS: WIP INTRO
[this is my original work, do not use / repurpose / plagiarise in any form]
GENRE: literary fiction with speculative elements / fabulism [aka a Vibe]
SETTING: south india / a weird other dimension.
FORM: second-person pov, present tense. told in vignettes that are sometimes poems, sometimes recipes, sometimes full scenes and sometimes a single chunk of fancy description.
STAGE: drafting. expected wc: 30k.
TONE: harsh, quiet, seething.
THEMES + AESTHETICS: girlhood vs motherhood, freedom, fear of change, the feeling of missing something you’ve never experienced. red lights, nights with no moon, dimly lit motel rooms, reaching for something and finding only air, dust hanging in abandoned rooms, endless roads, dark forests, silence.
CONTENT WARNING: toxic relationships, intense discussions of motherhood and pregnancy, violent thoughts and mentions of death.
SYNOPSIS:
When a young college student returns to her hometown on her mother’s request, she doesn’t expect to stay long, doesn’t expect to be wanted back permanently, doesn’t expect her mother to be freshly pregnant and doesn't expect to learn that her father has been dead for days—her mother selfishly keeping the news from her. Mid-confrontation, the earth below their feet splits open and the two find themselves in a strange, red-tinted world with eerie sounds and skies with no suns. With a mere two weeks left until the mother’s child is due, the two must work together to navigate their way out and back home, whether it knits them closer or cleaves them apart.
aka what i refer to as “mommy issues: the novella”
CHARACTERS:
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[start id / a collage of three pictures placed horizontally next to each other. first image is a shot of two hands reaching for each other against a grey backdrop; second image is plain white with black serif text that reads “the daughter”; third image is a shot of a city at night with silhouette of buildings, the central building illuminated in golden lights / end id]
THE DAUGHTER
our second person narrator!
tfw when you think you’re the shit but also you hate yourself
moral compass is messed up oops [understatement]
all she wants is stability in life but life said fuck you babe
don’t think she sleeps for more than three hours a day actually
is a med student! decided she’d be working to be an obstetrician because it ties in with motherhood and i’m pretentious like that
mitski album of her life is be the cowboy
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[start id / a collage of three pictures placed horizontally next to each other. first image is a shot of someone’s hands on a windowsill looking at a sparse garden; second image is plain white with black serif text that reads “the mother”; third image is a shot of a road at night with parked cars and yellow lamposts / end id]
THE MOTHER
that one judgemental aunt in your family
why?? does she keep lying??? for what joy??? i’d love to know
no chill whatsoever but this def runs in the family
does she actually know she’s a person whose actions have consequences? idk, she makes good food though
accidentally started associating her with crabs after drafting this one scene and it is such an image to live with actually
aggressively atheist [we stan]
mitski album of her life is lush
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[start id / a photo of a woman standing in a dark room facing a beam of light that illuminates the top half of her face. over the image, in serif font, is the text “You’re both so similar that it prickles. You know she thought you an anchor. You know she needs to touch skin to believe she’s real. You know she’s just as lonely as you. You hope.” / end id]
AN EXCERPT: She almost smiles at you. You almost smile back. You don’t remember when you stopped making jokes out of everything or when she stopped laughing at them, don’t remember when you started pushing limits to see how far you’re truly allowed to reach, to snap, to be, and when she started letting you, started seeing you as another body in her house, started thinking of you in portions rather than person, started touching her neck and face and heart on Sunday mornings with the curtains still up and the windows still whispering from the night draft to convince herself that at least she’s a real. You’re both so similar that it prickles. You know she thought you an anchor. You know she needs to touch skin to believe she’s real. You know she’s just as lonely as you. You hope.
and that’s all for now!! i literally impulse started this wip a month ago and it’s been super fun because the only rules here were that there were no rules and the story can suck as much as i want, which is something my perfectionist brain really needs. here’s the tag for everything about this project and here’s the playlist. you can send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist !
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wangxianficrecs · 4 years ago
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Follower Recs
Stories I haven’t read yet, but clearly need to put on my ever-expanding List.
~*~
Welcome back queen [Thank you, it’s so lovely to be back!] if ur still doing follower recs I gotta recommend I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett it’s soooooooo good
[This one was actually recced to me by two different people, the other of whom said, “ Maybe I'm crying a little so I feel like a should recommend ‘I would wait for a thousand years’ by bleuett on ao3.”]... it’s def. on my List!
I would wait for a thousand years
by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian)
Summary:  During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair.
“Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.”
“I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.”
“And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.”
~*~
I just read a great fic by aisthuu "every love story is a ghost story", didn't see it in your recs so wanted to recommend it! LWJ is a guqin composer and teacher, buys a cheap guqin off eBay which ends up being attached to WWX's spirit from canon era. It's bittersweet, LWJ deals with Lan's homophobia (implicit in a Lan way) and his feelings towards the ghost. This is author's only ao3 fic and honestly I don't remember how I stumbled upon it, but I'm happy I did and hope you will enjoy it too!  [I’ve recently read this one, and loved it!]
every love story is a ghost story
by aisthuu (M, 59k, wangxian, my bookmark)
Summary:  The man is in Lan Zhan’s bed. Did they—he begins to wonder, eyes trailing to where the man’s body lies under the blanket. Had Lan Zhan—?
Then the sleep-fog clears and Lan Zhan realizes that the young man isn’t quite opaque around the edges.
“You’re a spirit.”
The spirit narrows its eyes. “I’m so much more than that.”
(Lan Zhan buys a guqin off eBay for a suspiciously low price, only to find that it’s haunted. And now there’s a ghost in his bed.)
~*~
Ok so I absolutely have to rec "see you yesterday" by glyphic. It's a wip, but it's currently at 101k so there's a whole lot there, and it's terrible and wonderful and beautiful all at once. The way the backstory of canon events is adapted to the modern-with-cultivation setting is brilliant, and then there's the amnesia, and then there's the time loop. This fic lives permanently rent-free in my brain.
see you yesterday
by glyphic (M, 101k, wangxian, WIP)
Summary:  
Wei Ying 21:09 hey lan zhan what’s the weirdest way youve died
Lan Zhan 21:11 Falling encyclopedias.
Wei Ying 21:12 omg no way that’s so rude turning books against you???
Lan Zhan 21:13 A betrayal I will never forget.
On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.
~*~
If you are looking for recs for yourself I absolutely love (the complete!) story Just as the Snow Melts by draechali on AO3. It's a canon divergence where everyone lives, even WWX! ~ @airmidcelt
Just as the Snow Melts
by draechaeli (T, 67k, wangxian)
Summary:  Like a snowy mountain top in spring the residents of the Burial Mounds trickled down the mountain and joined the flow of society.
“I went to the Burial Mounds,” Lan WangJi said.
“Ah, yeah… I’m sorry Lan Zhan,” replied Wei WuXian, “I hadn’t thought anyone would come to visit. I am still not sure how it happened; I brought A-Yuan to Yiling to play by the river and then ended up somehow teaching a bunch of children swimming and writing along with him.”
~*~
Hello! It's come to my attention that you have not as yet read Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation! Please do! It's the only thing that gave me joy during 2020 😆 like proper belly laughs and disney villain style cackling. It is a wip, and it is long but so so worth it!! The author has reworked the entire canon through these message crystals and still conveys complex characters despite the tricky format. It's just so good!! Highly highly recommend it! ❤ ~ @theladypeartree  [Oh!  I’ve been subscribed to this one, and know that @swaglexander-the-great is a reliable provider of Hilarity, so I’m excited for it to be finished!]
Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation 
by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 49k, wangxian, WIP)
Summary:  The Untamed universe is exactly the same, except everybody has magical crystals that have a suspiciously familiar messaging system. The story is pretty much the same as the show, except everyone lives!! (so minor changes).
or in which Wei WuXian tries his darndest to date Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng possibly has a aneurysm, Jin ZiXuan is still the most awkward human alive, and Xue Yang makes me write some VERY cursed things. Written in chatfic format! :3
~*~
Chomrafy on AO3 deserves love and encouragement; she’s written a body of compact, poetic, and eloquent shortfics each of which can stand alone, but that comprise an intricately cross-referential and mostly internally-consistent universe. They’re grouped as chapters in works according to theme; for example, “in cupped hands” focuses upon Jin Ling and his second-generation baggage; “Departure in Autumn” portrays the last years of WWX’s first life. Follow the tag “Chomrafy’s MDZS shortfics.” [I don’t see this tag?]
in cupped hands
by chomrafy (G, 2k, wangxian)
Summary:  Of secrets, of futures, of love. A Jin Ling-centric collection of 200-word fics.
Ch.1: Jin Ling repays a debt (JL, JC, & WWX). Ch.2: Jin Ling and a ghost in the mirror. (JL & JYL) Ch.3: A matter of friends (JL & the other kids) Ch.4: In this house we don't keep dogs (JC & WWX) Ch.5: In the end, he remains silent (JL & uncles) Ch.6: A first night hunt, of sorts (JL & the other kids) Ch.7: Jin Ling, forgiving, forgetting (JL & LXC & JGY) Ch.8: Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling argue (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.9: Jin Ling and his father (JL & JC) Ch.10: Jin Ling speaks up (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.11: Jin Ling and a piece of home (JL, JC, & WWX)
Departure in Autumn
by chomrafy (not rated, 6k)
Summary:  Four perspectives. A steady march to the end.
Ch.1: Because if anything happens to them, Wen Qing would never be able to heal with these hands again. Ch.2: As long as this is still home, Jiang Yanli will wait as long as she needs to. Ch.3: Five times Jiang Cheng reaches for Wei Wuxian, one time he turns away. Ch.4: Whether the road is broad or narrow, bright or dark, they would have to keep walking. Wei Wuxian digs Wen Qing's grave.
~*~
Hello, hope all is going well. I don't have an ask, by I do have a recommendation. I read this fic a while ago and found it again. I just wanted to recommend this for everyone. Let me know what you think please. Thank you. [Oh!  This one’s in my To Read list, but  I’d forgotten about it.  Mmmm, fox!wwx and dragon!lwj.]
Ten miles of Lotus Flowers
by Yukirin_Snow
M, 274k, wangxian
Summary:  He was a mischievous fox spirit, wreaking havoc where he went, about to depart on a journey that would span centuries.
He was a heavenly prince, a proud dragon destined to ascend the throne to become emperor.
Neither expected their paths to collide over the span of three lives.
~*~
I forgot if it was your blog 😥 that recommended “Bestseller” (when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528316/chapters/51318766)
But OMG IT WAS HILARIOUS!!! I LOVED IT!! And if it wasn’t your blog, I’m so sorry for how weird this sounds 😭😭😭😭 I just loved this fic so much that I have to tell it to someone 😢 [It’s on my List, but I haven’t read it yet!]
Bestseller
by pupeez4eva
M, 8k, wangxian
Summary:  He had written the book to prove a point. It was never supposed to be a big thing, and he certainly never intended for everyone — Jiang Cheng, Zewu-Jun, the Juniors, literally everyone— to be reading about his sex life.
Oh God, he definitely needed to make sure Lan Zhan didn’t find out about this.
(Or, when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit).
~*~
I’d like to rec On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake! by @blackwiresgrowonherhead
It’s one of my absolute favorites and I laughed out loud so many times when reading it
on your marks, get set, bake!
by BlackWiresOnHerHead
G, 41k, wei wuxian & juniors
Summary:  Jin Ling resumes thumping on the door to room 721, and the small collection of freshmen starts chanting “Senior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!” with increasing volume until finally Wei Wuxian opens the door.
“Yes?” he says with his widest, most innocent eyes.
“Senior Wei!” demands Lan Jingyi, shoving himself to the front of the group. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a contestant on this year’s season of The Great Gusu Bake Off?!?”
--
Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.
~*~
If you're in the mood for v. short ridiculous fun fic, may I suggest My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los It's 2k modern cultivators AU, featuring WWX calling LWJ's sword Bitchin' [omg I’m laughing so hard] and I think it's more fun going in blind?
My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio
by x_los
T, 2k, wangxian
Summary:  Lan Wangji finds he doesn't even need to call for help for Wei Wuxian to come running.
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randombtsprincessa · 5 years ago
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Blackthorn Creek
Author: Randombtsprincessa
Characters: Park Jimin x Reader (2nd POV)
Words: 24.1k
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU! Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Smut!
Rating: NC-17 ranging till 18+ during the last scene, just to be safe.
Warning: Curses, magic, violence, conspiracy for treason, heavy insecurities, imprisonment of sorts, animal attacks, description of blood and injuries, mob mentality, invasion, stabbing, falling from heights, death, marital sex, first time, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (be careful folksies!) And a whole lotta cheese cause it’s Jimin and I love him.
A/N: The following work is part of the Twisted Fairtytales: Members in Distress for @ksmutclub​ I had the idea for this story sitting in my WIPS and thankfully, the project came at the perfect moment! I hope you all like it as much as I loved writing it! 
A major thank you and a glomping hug to @cuziloveyou7​ and my amazing best friend for all their support for the fic!
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The night was chill.
Pale, gossamer links of snow knitted across the glass of the castle, the granite of the stairs seeping the cold through to the skin.
A light chatter was interrupted when the front doors thudded – once, twice and then another time.
It was late, after all; much too late for any visitors, too rude for guests to show up…
The King, a benign man, stood from his seat near the fire, guards surrounding their liege. The Queen looked up at her husband, worried but the King patted her shoulder, beckoning for the doors to be opened.
It would be rude to leave the doors barred too, of course. It could be someone in need.
He watched, curious, as his Maitre D’, Seokjin, walked slowly to the doors. His arms flung the heavy oaken doors open, a flourish to his actions.
“Welcome,” Jin spoke in his exaggerated voice, “to the Castle of Blackthorn Creek. To what do we owe the pleasure, and to whom, may I ask?”
There was silence, much too thick, much too tense to be someone in need, to be a friendly visitor.
“I am here, to see your King. Bring me to him.”
Seokjin stuttered in his vigor, an unnerved stance taking him over as he glanced back to the royal couple, a question to his eyes.
The King cast an eye to his right corner, where his trusted advisor sat, his shoulders visibly tight. Namjoon cleared his throat, a warning sound. “I will see him.” The King said instead, knowing it would be better to see what the stranger wanted.
His guards circled him, his wife remaining behind as he approached and stood behind Seokjin.
“You are in the presence of our Lord and King.” The man announced, drawing away with a stiff bow – unlike any he had performed before.
The King stepped forward, and looked at the man who stood at his doorstep. The man, in turn raised his head, allowing for the dark hood atop his head to fall back. His head was cast in shadows, the whites of the eyes visible as he spoke.
“Your Majesty, I have come from far lands for the pleasure of your company.”
“Consider the pleasure ours, please do come in. What can we do for you?” The King waved a hand, dismissing the surrounding guards as the stranger tilted his head, walking in with his head still held high. He stopped right inside the threshold, as the inmates of the house gazed with wonder and some horror at his visage.
His head was shaven, dark marks etched into the near blue-white skin of his face. His arms bore similar marks, sheathed in crimson robes that were certainly not the fashion of those times.
“Well,” The King pressed.
The stranger slowly blinked his unnerving eyes, a flash of green lighting them. “I hear tales of your kingdom, your generous reign in my homelands. I must say I am not disappointed.”
He finally turned his head to where the Queen sat. “I also hear tales of a beautiful daughter. Your little Princess,”
There was a ringing silence. Guards shifted in their positions, Namjoon and Seokjin drew closer to the Queen and the King froze. To all but the mysterious stranger’s eyes unknown, a small figure crouched at her mother’s skirts, face turned curious to the sudden tension in the air.
“What do you want?” It was the Queen who spoke. Her crown glinted in the firelight, her body clenched on her chair. The stranger didn’t look at her when he answered the question.
“I come with a proposal. I offer my hand in marriage with the Princess.”
There was another pause, albeit much less tense as movement started.
“Preposterous; she is but a child.” This came from Namjoon.
“I am willing to wait.” The stranger said coolly.
“Then you will be waiting forever. I will not give my child to any godforsaken man who happens across my door and throws around absurd ideas. You will never have my daughter.”
“I will be a good husband, and a good king.”
“My Liege; do we have permission to draw arms?” The guard closest to the King asked, his hand already drawing closer to his sheathed sword.
“Nay, no bloodshed; just throw this madman out to the snow.” The King spat, his cloak whirling as he turned to go back to his family.
Behind him, his men converged, arms raised to push the stranger out the palace gates.
Time seemed to slow as the men gathered around his form, which had straightened to as tall as he could get.
“You’ll find you’ve made something of a mistake…Your Majesties.”
A cruel smile curled his lips, hands cupping near his stomach. His large sleeves gave way, revealing the etched marks and even as they pulse green, his form erupted in green light, exploding out till it engulfed the entire estate.
The King buckled, his arms wrapping around his wife and child as the men began to shout, and darting away from whatever it was the demon man unleashed.
“Hear me, O great King; for your impudence, I place your most beloved under this curse. You will be reduced to nothing but a fixture; your entire household will be mere pawns to be used by commoners. And your daughter,” The smirk widened, finding the small girl who still hid, now visible to everyone as their horrified gazes found the young princess.
“Your daughter will be left all alone. Her beauty will now be gone, her temperament destroyed. She will be feared, loathed, a monstrosity that will live with your enchantment.”
“She is a child! You are hurting a child!” Finally, an anguished wail escaped the Queen but the wizards over spoke her, drowning her words.
“At the age of twenty and three, she will be rendered thus permanently. Not a thing but the truest of love can rescue her and break my curse. Only the one who will look past her form will win that honor.”
The light faded with the man’s silhouette, the only thing that remained in the blazing glimmer of the settling curse. Movement ceased, the fire died into its embers…
“You will soon find that I am the only man who is merciful and worthy enough.”
These last words echoes in the halls, sealing through the stone and glass until another sound replaced it.
The screams of a terrified little girl…
Time seemed to flow like water after the screams died.
Nobody took courage to go up to the Palace, find their rulers…the town forgot they even had rulers. Administration moved into common hands, spread to the citizens and the legend of the lost royal family became a ghost story.
The path to Blackthorn Creek remained abandoned, silent, and derelict.
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In the town of course, the ghost story didn’t matter. Life had moved on, become busy, become full of bustle.
Park Jimin threw the doors of his father’s work room open, sticking his head in to check once on the aging man.
“Father, I’m out to the baker’s. Shall I bring back something?”
There was no answer from his father, just a distant sigh that said there was nothing that could be brought back that would satisfy him.
Jimin drew back, unable to curb his rising disappointment. There was something in the slump of his father’s shoulders, ever since they’d moved into the developing town of Blackthorn Creek that, as much as the exuberant Jimin tried, he simply couldn’t shake.
Perhaps, it was his mother’s death that took their house and worldly belongings. Perhaps it was the sinking of his father’s patent ship, causing such debt that there was no hope to pay it back with nothing to put up for interest.
The Park family had to relocate from their luxury in France to the eastern countryside, to this small place. It had taken all the merry from his father’s life.
Jimin, however, worked hard to keep his spirits up. This was a setback yes, but his father was a genius. He was sure to come up with another pitch that would work out. And even if he didn’t; well, Jimin would always be there to take care of his beloved father.
A basket in hand, Jimin cocked his hat, setting out for the day.
The town, as small as it was, was full of life around midday. The market bustled, the streets running with people and the pub was always open, till as late as it could get.
But even through the color, there were shades of grey. The cheerful Creek had one mighty legend; one of the local royals’ disappearance. There was a long winded street that was barred from the public, leading up to a small hill, behind which there was said to be the palace.
He had taken these myths with a small smile, aimed at the person trying to call for his attention with these stories.
But even he had to admit, such tales of mystique piqued his fancy in the most delightful way. France had been exciting, especially for a young man such as himself. Plucking him out and placing him in a much smaller world where things were…stagnant, did cause something of a blow to his vigor.
Jimin stopped, contemplating the bookshop that lay just at the edge of the forbidden path. He had a few books still remaining back home, left to be read – but perhaps, he could squeeze in another couple?
“My boy,” The shopkeeper chuckled at the frown on the young man’s face. “Are you done with those piles that you took already?”
“Not quite, sir,” Jimin grinned. “I might just pop by again soon enough.”
The shopkeeper gave him a toothy grin, watching the man glance in some wonder at the blocked off road. The mountains had already started to grow slick with frost – sign of another passing winter. “Here,” he said suddenly.
Jimin stuttered in his forward steps, retracing back to where the stooping elder held out a pale bound tome from the front window. “Sir,” he raised his eyes in puzzlement.
“It’s a little something special I had lying about collecting dust. It was surprising that this one hasn’t caught your eye as of yet but I’m sure you will enjoy it.”
Jimin gave the friendly man a smile, letting the soft book fall open upon his palms, sifting through the delicate pages. “What’s it about?”
“The very thing you’re so curious about; lost princesses, brave knights, curses, fairies…” The book keeper burst out laughing at the soft blush that crept along Jimin’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be coy, son. Our little legend is bound to attract someone.”
“I must thank you sir. I will return it as soon as I’m done.”
“Oh by all means, keep it. It’s better suited to your hands than the shelves in this old place.”
Jimin blinked. “That’s a generous gift. I hope I do it justice.”
“I’m sure you will. Now off with you; the market isn’t going to stay open all day.” The man waved Jimin off, returning to his shop.
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Jimin found himself quickly immersed in the fantasy, the short stories of courage, chivalry, sacrifice and fire keeping his nose well buried in the musty pages as he found the daily shopping that he was required to do.
All was well, until the book was snatched out of his hands, a giggle soon to follow.
“Hello stranger.”
“Hyebin,” Jimin sighed, looking around to where the young girl had snapped the book shut decisively.
Hyebin had been the girl to whom Jimin owed most of his knowledge of the town. Raven haired, slim and tall, she was the beauty of the town, sister to one of the most renowned hunters in the nearby vicinity – Kai. He and his sister had taken over most of the social scene of the town, near to becoming the law itself.
And Hyebin had her eyes set on Jimin ever since he set foot within the pub; by proxy, leading her brother to pester him with offers of her hand.
“May I have my book back?”
Pale glimmering lips pouted at him, the book still clutched in her hands. “You never pay attention to me, Jimin. Not when you have books about,” she said.
“Of course that’s not the case.” The man said smoothly.
“It is so. What’s so special about books anyway?” Hyebin took a step further back, too quick for Jimin’s reaching fingers. She pried the book open rudely. “They don’t lead to too much around here.”
“There’s more to books than just material gain, Hyebin.” Jimin was becoming impatient – his eyes fixed on the way her nails dug into the delicate binding.
“If you say so, when we’re married; would you still pay more attention to books than me?”
Jimin dearly wanted to say that that would never happen but he settled for resignedly bouncing on his toes. “What if I read to you?”
“I’d fall asleep.”
“I see.” This time Jimin moved fast, hands grabbing the book from Hyebin’s distracted hold long enough to fall back a safe distance. “I need to go back home. Give your brother my best.”
By the time he got home, his father had put away his new working equipment, instead pacing about in the handkerchief living room.
“Father,” Jimin greeted, putting up his hat.
“Son, how…how was the day?” His father stopped marching, coming up to take the basket of shopping from him.
“Normal, had to dodge Hyebin as usual,” he muttered, making his father chuckle.
“One of these days that girl will marry you still.”
“Such a horrifying thought,”
“Then let me put you to ease.” Mr. Park put his hands on Jimin’s shoulders, making his son look him in the eyes. “There has been some development. The ship that I lost at sea, a year ago, has been heard from. I have been called to attest to it.”
Jimin took a moment to process the news, watching his father’s eyes light up with something that was fearfully hopeful. “Do you mean that --?”
“Possibly; if it is true, we can go back to our old lives again! Think of it, Jimin! Paris, France, the beautiful sprawling house that we had to give up. Your education…” The man smiled affectionately, “We’ll have to find you a lady to wed who is at par with you.”
“Father,”
“I set off tonight! It will be a day’s journey but I know you can watch over things here.”
Jimin watched as his father hurriedly moved to the door, a coat and hat finding their way on his body and his cane and horse whip clasped to his breast. “Wish well for us, my son, our lives could be soon close to change. Do you wish for me to bring you anything back?”
“No father, just you,” Jimin bid farewell to his father, watching him disappear within the small stable to gallop away.
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When Mr. Park had set out for the harbor, his spirits had been up soaring in the clouds, visions of his life returning to him in his previous splendor. Now, stood at the wooden ledge, watching crestfallen as merchants, traders, moneylenders, once his friends but now…now they had gathered around his returned goods and scavenged and distributed everything among themselves.
“Your debts are clear, Park.”
“Jimin won’t have to be in debt to us anymore, sir.”
“Go back home sir,”
Just words…nothing more, no comfort found his heart when he straddled his horse again, starting the long trek home.
The horse wouldn’t gallop, possibly sensing its master’s indolence and Mr. Park was overcome with a sudden wave of gratefulness for the animal. After all, he would have to strengthen his bones; he had to deliver the news to Jimin.
The idea of disappointing his son was probably more harrowing than that of losing his wealth yet again.
At least now they were free from debt.
There was a small whinny, attracting the older man’s attention as he looked up to see which path he was on. It was long, thin, winding up a hill he had never seen before in his life.
“Hey boy, I think we took the wrong way.” He patted the horse’s head, before getting off, grabbing the reins. “Let’s find a way out.”
A few miles in, Mr. Park stopped, short of breath.
“Where in the world are we?” He growled low, ignoring the shuddering animal behind him as he trudged on when a high, pitched sound made them both freeze.
A wolf’s howl…
There were wolves around. Mr. Park was alone with no weapons and no idea of where he was. His horse let out a sound of protest again.
“Damn it all too hell,” Mr. Park quickly climbed the horse, kicking it to speed. “Take off, boy; we don’t have any time to lose.”
His ride raised back its front legs, before racing down the way they had come.
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Jimin had been anxious all day, toiling in the small garden that his father had managed to build in the front of their house. Sweat had gathered his dark hair into clumps, matting his eyes so when he hear the familiar whinny of Geureum, the horse, he smiled naturally – relieved that his father was finally back home.
“Ah father, nice to –,” he turned, his smile vanishing slowly when he saw the horse alone, pawing his hooves into the dirt, snorting impatiently.
“Geureum, where is he?” Jimin grabbed for the horse’s reins, pulling it closer to soothe it. “Where is Father?”
All Geureum did was shake his head roughly, stepping back and forth.
“Can you show me where he is, huh, boy? Come on,” He slipped his foot in the stirrup, hauling himself into the saddle. “Take me to him, Geureum.”
Geureum stopped only once when he reached a huge, wrought iron gate, roses and swans intricately welded to the metal, now rusty from disuse.
Something had prickled Jimin’s hairline when Geureum had approached the blockaded hill up to the legendary Blackthorn Creek palace but the horse had circumvented it, riding up a much thinner path up.
Jimin slipped off of the horse, patting Geureum on the side. “Stay here, boy.”
And then…with a creek that echoed through the cold night, he entered the palace, walking through huge oaken double doors to find his father.
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He had to admit, for a second, standing in the atrium of the castle, he was struck by how grand it must have been. The ceiling peaked, now broken in with many of the granite slabs gone, the starry night sky clearly visible. Dirt and mud had accumulated on the marble floors, muffling the clicks of his boots just a bit.
“Father,” he called loudly before cursing to himself.
What if someone heard him? He wasn’t exactly supposed to be here.
Jimin shook his head. Who would hear him? It was a deserted castle with its family long gone. There probably had never been a family; the town had probably spun a yarn to make it special to tourists.
He crept up grand staircase, sticking close to the rails.
“Father,” he called again.
“Jimin…?”
He whirled, looking around for the source of the sound. “Yes, father it’s me.” He ventured, noticing a hand slipping out from the bars of a door. “Father!” He dropped to his knees in front of the door.
“Jimin, what are you doing here? You can’t be here, you have to leave!” His father was wailing from within, his hands grasping air in search for Jimin.
“What are you saying? Of course, I had to come! Who did this to you?”
“No! Don’t you see, Jimin? It’s true, the legends, the stories, they’re true!”
“What is true? Father, tell me who did this to you?”
“The monster; there is a monster in this castle!”
Jimin paused in trying to pry the door open, widened eyes swiveling to his father’s outstretched hands. “What?”
“It’s true! Please you have to leave! It’s dangerous!”
“Father, that can’t possibly be true!” Jimin said adamantly only to be proven wrong the next second.
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A roar that sent Jimin’s hair rising to its ends erupted, echoing around the cavernous halls. A heavy weight landed on his shoulder, throwing him away from the door.
“What are you doing here?”
If there was a god, Jimin had better start praying to it, he thought, cowering away from the hunkering shadow that loomed over him. All he could discern were bright yellow eyes, slanting dark pupils glaring at him and the appendage his father had left hanging out the bars.
“Jimin!” His father chose to shout at the very moment.
Jimin watched the – the – thing – rise upon its legs, prowling further in but still remaining in the dark corner. “What are you doing here?” It asked again.
Jimin blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. Here he was, in an allegedly cursed castle. His father was locked up, raving about monsters and now he was face to face with what appeared to be a huge animal…only, it talked like a human.
“I…I came for my father.” Jimin stuttered, trying to push himself back up.
The yellow eyes flickered, between Jimin and his father, before creeping back into the shadows. “You came in vain. The prisoner will not be released.”
“No wait!” Jimin called, shuffling to his feet as the figure began to draw back. “You can’t keep him here like this! He’s an old man, he’ll die!”
“THEN HE SHOULDN’T HAVE TRESPASSED IN MY HOME!”
Jimin froze at the sudden roar, managing to grab onto his father’s hands finally. This was real. The legend was true. The people living in the castle were monsters, cursed.
“Your…please – I’ll do anything.”
“No! He’ll stay here, locked up because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” The monster began to disappear.
“Take me.” Jimin took a step forward.
The figure paused.
“What, Jimin, no – no, listen, you can’t do this!” His father yelled.
“I mean it. You take me, let him go.” Every word strengthened in his throat, conviction pushing him forward till he was barely a meter away from the monster.
“You – You’d do that? You’d stay here, in exchange for him?”
Jimin met its eye. Bright yellow to Jimin’s deep brown, when it stepped finally into the small lighted part.
Coarse, shaggy fur coated a huge, lumbering form. The bright yellow eyes that seemed so unnerving were set in a canvas of a ferocious face, the fur streaked with grey and black, a huge snout for a nose and huge fangs that protruded from its mouth.
A lesser man would’ve burst a lung screaming at the horrifying sight but Jimin managed to hide his face, backing up till he could feel his father trying to clutch at the back of his shirt.
“I…I would. Let him go and you can take me.” Jimin finally said and he was proud to say that his voice remained steady.
There was a ringing moment of doubt, flickering in the golden orbs of the monster, before with a growl it raised its paw. Jimin flinched, cringing away from the blow but it never fell. Instead, he heard a dull, metallic thunk and the heavy padlock fell to his feet.
Mr. Park fell out; the door giving way under his weight and he clung to Jimin. “No, no, please, don’t take him, keep me – I have nothing to live for anymore but my son has a whole life.” His father begged to the monster but the only reply they got was a ferocious roar. “GET OUT! If you value your life and your son’s, leave; or I will kill you both!”
The monster turned on an enormous heel, stomping back into the darkness.
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The tower that Jimin was pushed into had one small window, a little too high for him to reach, but he managed to hike his nimble body up till he swung from the ledge. His fingers reddened from the strain but when he finally peeked through the window, he just barely caught the end of a huge cart, led by a snorting and neighing Geureum.
He dropped from the ledge, landing squarely on his feet upon the uneven flagstone and cursed, running two hands through his ruffled hair.
“Hello sir,”
Jimin jumped, whirling around at the smooth voice that sounded nothing like the awful grate of the monster’s growl.
“Right down here.”
Jimin backed up as far as he could against the wall before casting his eyes downwards. There was nothing on the floor, soft moss growing within the cracks with one slightly buffed up candelabrum left behind.
“Hello,” the voice said again.
“Where are you? Look, I’m not scared of anything anymore so you’re doing nothing,”
“Of course not, sir, it’s me…Kim Seokjin, the…” a sigh, “the candle holder.”
Jimin took a shuddering breath, before very slowly diverting his eyes to the golden instrument on the ground.
It wasn’t very huge, just barely above average but the sweeping extensions made it seem bigger than it needed to be. Dripping wax clung to its arms where the candles stuck, the gold sheen pale yet glinting in the bare light. Just on the handle, there was an etching…just like one of a face. Even as Jimin watched, the candles lit up, making him flinch.
“Please follow me, sir.”
Jimin gulped.
“Follow you where?”
The candelabrum, to Jimin’s astonished eyes, seemed to turn on the base.
“The Mistress is installing you in a room of your own. The household doubts you want to stay in the tower.” There was something caustic about the smooth tone of the thing. It made Jimin almost bristle and refute before he looked around the tower he was put in.
It was one of the spindle shaped ones, too thin and a little rickety. The window that he had tried to peek out was the single one allowing light in and he could feel some vertigo setting in already, if the nausea was anything to go by.
“Fine – lead the way.” He said.
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Jimin had already gauged that the palace had been luxuriant in its time but now, walking quietly through the long hallways with…an animate object bouncing along in front of him, he had to admit; that the ruin that now faced him didn’t seem adjacent to what the palace must have been before.
The stone, now greenish grey had gnarled carvings etched into them. The statues that stood at corners had most of their heads broken or missing and the small beam that the candles gave off only made him all the more unsettled.
“We know it’s a little…dull – around here but we hope you’ll like it.” It was as if the thing knew what was going on in Jimin’s head.
“You said ‘we’…and ‘household’ before…but except for you…and…well, the monster,” Jimin stopped talking when the candelabrum winced.
“You…might want to be careful about that. The Mistress is sensitive and none of the people in the castle will appreciate you calling her that.”
Jimin nearly tripped on his feet when he finally processed something. “That…that thing is a she?”
He was ignored. The candelabrum stopped in front of one of the doors, double door, handles of glum silver. “This is going to be your room, sir.” Jimin didn’t answer, quietly reaching for the handle and turning it, letting himself in cautiously.
The room wasn’t lighted, most of the darkness only marred by the light streaming from a glass window. He could spy a bed at best.
Jimin was about to step in further, squinting his eyes when he heard a loud creak, possibly a considerable weight upon a floorboard and then the clink of metal.
“If you don’t like the room, we can move you.” He heard but instead of the smooth, cool voice of the candelabrum, it was gruff, low and sullen.
He whirled to see a huge part of a shadow standing well back into the room. A heavy cloak wrapped up the body, concealing it further within the darkness.
Jimin didn’t speak as the form lumbered to the open door.
“Your needs will be seen to here. My servants will attend to you.” There was a pause before it took hold of the door. “And you will meet me for dinner; every night.”
The slam of the door made Jimin jump; his immediate reaction was to run to the door and look through the keyhole. There were footsteps and a murmur of conversation but aside from that, the entire palace seemed silent.
Jimin huffed, walking over to the window to open it, casting a furtive look outside and letting out a scornful laughter. He was a good way up the ground. Jumping from the window would mean certain death and even if he only escaped, it would be with broken bones and with no horse.
He doubted the ‘Mistress’ would nurse him back to health.
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“My sweetest sister,” A finger brushed under the supple cheek of Hyebin, turning her attention to her brother who loomed over her at the counter of the pub. “What has you down?”
Hyebin pouted, throwing Kai’s hand off. “I went by Park Jimin’s house this evening to see if he would take a turn with me. He wasn’t there. The house was empty.”
“Maybe he went off with that father of his.”
“Why would he? There is nothing to do for him.”
Kai cast a glance at his grumpy sister, feeling the brewing of an odd emotion that he had had for her for months now. It was a mixture of pity, annoyance and yet the unyielding need to present whatever she wanted on a golden platter. He knew that Jimin did not return even half of a quarter of affection that his sister had and while he was annoyed at her overzealous devotion, he knew that she would never falter.
She got her stubbornness from him, after all.
Now, there may be better men for Hyebin than Jimin, but she wanted him and Jimin would marry her – Kai would see to it.
“Sister,” he began.
“You promised, Kai! You promised me you would make him marry me. You don’t love me. You can’t even do this much for me!”
“Now, now, dearest,”
Hyebin’s face had reddened; her hair crackling as she swelled like a bullfrog, ready to rail at her brother when the doors on the pub crashed open, with Mr. Park falling, raving against it.
“Help,” he panted, grasping at whatever was close at hand to heave himself up. “Help, my son, my son please.”
Heads turned, eyes falling to the soaked man as snow melted and pooled around his boots, the cloak wet and snug around his head. His eyes shifted from one astonished face to another, growing more restless.
“Please! I need help. My son has been taken by a monster!”
Behind him, Kai heard Hyebin’s squawk of indignation die down, releasing instead a dainty gasp. He watched the loony man walk around, trying to clutch at the sleeves of the patrons who shook him off with scoffs until he neared the siblings, finally tumbling at Kai’s elbow.
“Please, Kai, my last hope – you…have to help. My son, my only son – gone! – taken! – I can’t take this.”
Hyebin shrunk away from the delirious old man, bundling her dress to her knees even as Kai shook his arm free. “What’s the matter, Mr. Park? Be a little clear.”
“The monster of the palace took Jimin! Trapped him in the big castle on the hill…I couldn’t do anything!”
There was a pause as Kai furrowed his brow, before a patron shouted. “Leave him, Kai. He’s probably mad with the cold!”
“I am not!” Mr. Park immediately protested, wringing roughly at the coat before slumping his head and walking out the pub, defeated. They could hear wails of anguish in the cold winds outside but none were met with sympathy.
“He ran away!” Hyebin finally screeched, sinking her nails in her brother’s arms, ire flaming again.
Kai didn’t answer, letting his arm lax while his thoughtful expression slowly merged into that of a smirk. “Hyebin, my sweet; you might just get to marry Park Jimin after all.”
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Jimin didn’t know when he’d dozed off. It must have been the exhaustion of the day, the pressure, the sorrow but he had curled up in one of the dusty armchairs, closed his eyes for possibly a second, only to gather his thoughts. Now he woke up to a pitch black room, stars visible from the window and he knew it was very late into the night.
His back had cramped in his position, obliging him to get off when he heard the gentle knock on the door. He took a wary stance, waiting for the doors to be barged into but to no avail. It was probably Seokjin the candle holder, Jimin decided, going to open the door.
“My now, I thought you’d wait for all the milk to go cold before you opened the door.”
Anticipating it, Jimin was already looking to the floor, only to be met by what looked like a tea set. He watched eyes boggling as the tea pot, a tall, sleek work with a rotund belly hobbled into the room, followed by a cup, and a sugar bowl.
“Um, what…who – are you now?” He asked.
“I’m the head cook, boy. Min Yoongi’s the name, also known as the best damn teapot in the kingdom. This right here,” the snout of the teapot tipped down to the cup, “is Taehyung, the assistant cook but not the best cup even in the room because he can’t keep himself on one stupid shelf.”
“Yah Hyung,” the cup opened at its seam, as if they were lips. “Don’t be mean.”
“I wasn’t going to come at all but I can’t leave you alone. Now then to business, boy; the Princess is taking a late supper so you can eat with her. You can have some milk before you go. You look like you’ve been crying and you’re just going to upset her.”
“Upset her?” Jimin glared, as the tea cup, filled with milk jumped into his reluctant hand. “I am the one trapped here.”
“Look on the bright side.” The teapot waved its spout and all the tea materials gathered in one line, heading out the door. “There’s a splendid welcome supper to be had. Come Taehyung.” He called as he exited.
“Oh but,” the tea cup sloshed some of its content onto Jimin’s hands when it jumped down, skidding across the stone before the door shut again. The sounds of the tea cup’s protests reached Jimin even through the heavy door.
Jimin wiped his hands of his trousers, grumbling at the way he made a mess when he backed against something large.
“No need to worry, young sir. Wardrobe is always here to help!”
Golden but dusty doors banged Jimin on the face, nearly tossing him onto the floor as the wardrobe advanced, rows and rows of pristine, shiny outfits ready to be worn. Jimin gasped, clutching his nose in pain as he shook his head.
“Many apologies! It’s been a while since I’ve been opened for any event at all. I am Jung Hoseok, the royal master of robes. Please do look through the selection to pick something out. I daresay you’ll want to change out of your outfit for dinner.”
“No thanks,” Wincing, Jimin managed to get to his feet. “I’m not going to dinner with Princess Monster down there.”
“Oh dear,” he heard the wardrobe as he crossed his arms, turning to the window to glare out of it.
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The long dining table had been decked out for the first time in fifteen years. Silk cloths had been draped over the mahogany, candles put up, torches wiped and lit, plates and tableware sparkled in the dancing flame of the fireplace.
Yet, none of the chairs had been pulled back.
Seokjin and Yoongi, watched, anxious as the Mistress of the Castle, their Princess prowled in front of the table, each paw taking further weight from your animal bulk.
“Your highness, perhaps…you should sit and wait.” Seokjin suggested.
“No; I will wait for the man.” You said. Your voice had dipped down to a warning growl but your household items…your staff had never been very afraid of you.
Maybe they had, once, when you had first transformed and not taken to what you had become. A monster, a huge, hunkering loathsome thing which wanted to claw and destroy anything that stood in its wake…
It had taken years, but you had somewhat been ‘tamed’ since then.
“Princess, please, do consider that if we play our cards right, this man could be your salvation.”
“You think I don’t know that? I do…I know that but…how can he be if he won’t even come to dinner?”
“Perhaps also take into consideration that the boy is trapped here. He won’t see his father or his previous life again.” Jin’s statement wasn’t met with any geniality, instead the candelabrum found himself in the vice grip of his Mistress.
“Then what should I do? Do I throw him out? Let him leave so he can bring back a mob? No! I won’t do anything and if he wants to be difficult, I can be too.”
“We know that, your highness.” Yoongi said, his spout quivering. “We just have to remember to keep our tempers in check.”
The last statement was spoken pointedly and the monster blinked its huge yellow eyes, looking down to where you were almost squeezing your Maitre ‘D. You dropped the candle holder, Seokjin bouncing back a few steps when the door to the dinner room opened.
“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi’s belly turned, the porcelain splitting into a smile.
You turned, eyes trained in anticipation but what peeked in was an ornate long grandfather clock, its rose gold arms clasping the door in trepidation.
“Namjoon, where is the boy?” Seokjin asked immediately.
The royal advisor hemmed, glancing anxiously at the bunched up bulk of the Princess. “He says, he won’t be coming, your highness.”
There was a ringing silence, torn by the groans of Yoongi and Seokjin before you stood up, your clawed feet digging into the stone floor so hard it hurt.
“Fine, if he wants to be so stubborn then let him have his consequences too. Yoongi, you will bar the kitchens. He will not eat anything unless he first comes to me.”
“Princess, we can’t woo a dead man.” Namjoon said calmly but you were already dropping down from an upright position to what you were used to, on all four feet, crouching.
“I don’t care! Just…just let him starve! I don’t care if we find bones in his room.”
The three items converged, all talking together and you slammed a paw on the table, shredding the cloth. “Enough; let me go!” You roared before taking off, leaping over their heads so you could head and lock yourself in your quarters.
The silence that brushed up and closed around you as soon as the doors shut behind you and automatically locked was bliss. Yet your mind was anything but.
Hateful thoughts swirled in your mind, mostly aimed at yourself, some at the enthusiasm that your staff seemed to show for this new addition to your home and finally, venom spilling out to the man who had now entombed himself in one of your best rooms but couldn’t even show the decency to come down for dinner.
What was so difficult about dinner?
And why was he allowed to shut himself in his room when all your life you had been told to never hide yourself from the rest of the house?
Granted, all your people were now objects, magical but still just objects. Your parents had been turned to statues, forced to weather out in the overrun gardens and you had been raised by Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok and Namjoon mostly. Children your age; Taehyung and Jungkook had hated you in the beginning and you had never sought them out yourself.
Over time, Taehyung had forgiven you but Jungkook turned to a Duster never saw you, working quietly where you would never tread.
The rest of your household never came forward and said it; having never witnessed the event that had transformed you all but the malice was palpable. The rejection hurt, you were a child shunned and you sprouted claws much too early for anybody’s liking but you had tried.
You had tried, before giving up. You gave up because nothing happened. Fifteen years and no prince came; no fairy godmothers pointed their wands at you. The wizard never came back to see if his spell wrecked you.
All the stories that showed that Princesses would be rescued fell short at one crucial juncture.
No one told the story about the cursed princess who was ugly, who was a monster, who wasn’t the pale skinned beauty in a glass case or silk bed.
No, nobody came to save the ugly princess and over time you learned to see yourself just that.
This man – this Jimin, would be no exception.
“After all, what’s to love?” You muttered.
You vowed not to weep. Not for a man, not for the humanity that judged who was worthy of love.
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Jimin had dozed off again. When he woke, it was with a start, groggy and fumbling in his movements. This was a bad habit. He needed to collect his wits about himself. Maybe it was the magic of the castle but he had to remember that he wasn’t safe in here, no matter how friendly and polite everyone…everything was being.
Somehow, in his slumber, the torches in the room had been lit, casting the place in a dazzling golden glow. The chair he had fallen asleep in again was pushed right to the edge of the room, near the window. He spied that the bed had been made with brocade bedding, surfaces had been dusted and to his surprise there was a pool at the very centre, filled with clear, almost glittering water.
Jimin’s stomach, having refused dinner with the Monster out of pride was already protesting, tossing him out of the chair in the direction of the pool. Maybe a cool drink would cheer and lift his spirits.
He sat at the engraved stone border, looking down at his haggard expression in the water, running a hand through the pool, cupping the soothing liquid up to his lips.
The minute the water passed his lips, a new sense of relief and rejuvenation passed his body, coursing through him as though adrenaline itself. Jimin got to his feet, looking about if he could ask the Wardrobe – Hoseok – where he could go to find food.
He found the spot empty, instead there stood a mannequin. On it, hung was a brand new outfit; a white spotless shirt, black trousers and blue silk coat. The mannequin stood lifeless even as Jimin stripped it, and then with apprehension brewing at his belly at accepting the gift, himself. However, unease had to wait; he was soaked, cold, and soiled. He would fall sick at that rate and then all his plans of escape would shatter. He also didn’t want to be indebted to the castle in any way.
So with a bite at his pride, he put on the outfit before pressing his ears to the door, listening for any movement. He couldn’t hear the pounds of the Princess’s paws, the clatter of any objects moving, no conversation, nothing at all.
Wary in his gait, he stepped out, keeping a light foot to lead him on when something whimpered from his side.
Jimin jumped, whirling in anticipation of roars, of overwhelming friendliness but instead a small pair of eyes beamed up at him from behind a moth eaten curtain. Running a hand over his panicking heart, Jimin’s lips tugged into a soft smile.
“Hello there,” he cooed at the pup that ventured out the curtain with three more at its tail.
“Oh, wow, puppies.” Jimin wanted to laugh at the simplicity, at the adorableness but the pups only let out soft gurgles, wrapping paws around Jimin’s legs, trying to nudge him along.
“What is it? Where are you taking me?”
Jimin allowed him to be prodded and nudged along by four small dogs, along the hallway, down the stairs and through another until he was pushing open a door, clearly the kitchen.
“Oh my,” his eyes fell first to the teapot on a wooden table, followed by the grandfather clock and candle holder he’d seen already. “What are you doing here? How did you,”
The teapot stopped when he saw the four puppies cuddling around Jimin’s feet, something of a softness melting the intricate seam of it. “Ah, of course,”
“Forgive me, I didn’t know. I was just hungry.” Jimin shyly dipped his head, knowing he was probably trespassing on some late night gossip among the staff.
“No, no, of course you’re hungry, you did show some nerve. It must’ve made you ravenous.” Seokjin bobbed towards him, wrapping a gold arm around his coat tails, dragging him to the table.
“Don’t worry, sir. We’ve spoken with the Mistress. She’s going to show some leniency. She won’t come down to dinner the same time as you do…unless you request it.” Namjoon the clock lied smoothly.
Jimin was sat at the table by Seokjin, a napkin pressed at him by the teapot as dishes and plates of food began to dance around the length of the table, piling upon the plate presented to him to eat.
“I…thank you.” Jimin frowned, unable to think of anything more to say.
“You may also wander the castle and grounds as you wish. One of us will always be found around and the Guides,” Yoongi pointed its spout at the four pups that stood lined near the door, “will be your companions mostly.”
Jimin looked down at the hearty meal in front of him before digging in. “That will be very nice. Thank you.” He said around a mouthful of potatoes.
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True to their words, the castle and grounds were left wide open for the curious Jimin. He woke up to a wonderful outfit slung on the mannequin; suits, coats, wonderful silks and soft cashmeres to drape over his body. The wardrobe – Hoseok, had returned, helping Jimin dress for the day’s adventures.
Jimin would eat breakfast in his room, sitting at the edge of the pool where – he wondered if it was his imagination – the water seemed to move to entertain him. He would climb over stiles; sniff the glowing flowers, count stars and fireflies if he stayed out too late. The castle, upon inspection was vast. Huge statues imposed upon him, Grecian, roman and baroque architecture worked itself seamlessly in the palace and he had fun listening to Namjoon talking about each was worked in or acquired.
He was very rarely alone.
The Guides, as the staff called the small pups were always with him. He had learned their names from Taehyung, the tea cup. The fluffy brown one was Holly, a pair of small Pomeranians that shaded darker was Mickey and Yeontan and then finally a pure white one named Monnie.
They led him in and out the lands, sometimes through a grotto where the only thing that nestled was a pair of entwined huge statues. He had stopped and stared up at them for quite a while. They were probably the biggest in the entire castle, both wearing a pained, sorrowed expression that bore Jimin’s own heart down. He didn’t venture in that particular grotto again. It felt too…private somehow.
Jimin was given dinner in the main dining room, the long table decked out only for him. He would sometimes cast a look upon the opposite chair, feeling lonely even if he had multiple entities to talk to.
The Princess never came upon in Jimin’s presence for days. He could sometimes hear the paws of her feet on the floor when he was roaming about, but she never once tried to impose herself on him. It was almost as if she watched him watch her home from afar.
Something in Jimin tugged when he thought about home, how he had completely left behind his straggly little town for this palatial world. He missed his father terribly yes, but here in the estate that he was free to roam, with people whose knowledge he was free to peck at, the silence had turned blissful very quickly.
Thoughts of escape never strayed further from his mind but for now, he wanted to stay cocooned in this silence.
It was almost two weeks till he was made aware of the very real presence of the mysterious Princess. He was used to her being a phantom by now so when the Guides playfully nipped at each other, chasing down a corridor, Jimin followed at ease, not feeling the pricks of unease until he reached the darker end of the corridor.
It was a whole quarter, possibly belonging to one of the royal family. He peeked into the empty bath before venturing further into the darkened opening.
The palace that had been warmed by fire for their new guest – or prisoner, however Jimin wanted to look at it had failed here. There was an odd chill running through the walls, as if someone had sucked the temperature and doused the room in ice.
The furniture was all dusty, clearly not attended to, and silver and cream paint peeled from the walls. He could almost spy the moss that collected in the cracks of the walls before he came to stand in front of the wall of paintings.
Each and every face on the walls, Jimin noted had been slashed. It was a brutal mutilation, clearly from the Princess’s claws. There was one painting that remained, of what had to be the royal couple. A tall, regal man stood at the side of an equally prim lady who sat on an armchair. One of his hands clasped her shoulders while hers held on to a young child, poised delicately upon her knee.
The child, a girl wasn’t having it though. He could tell the struggle of her flailing arms and kicking feet yet her face was void of distress. Instead he stared at the laughing, playing child, baby curls fluttering around her ears, thick fingers and chubby cheeks – the full deal. A small golden tiara nestled upon her head, crooked from her movement.
The picture was so happy; it brought a catch to Jimin’s throat, looking back up at the couple, tearing his eyes from the once human Princess. There was something hauntingly familiar about the faces yet Jimin couldn’t put his finger on it.
So engrossed he was, in staring at the pictures, moving on to where he tried to put together shredded pieces of the painting together that he failed to notice the silence. There was no yapping of the puppies to be heard and this silence was anything but comfortable.
When the door squeaked open, Jimin turned, coming face to face with the monster who had been diligently avoiding him. Half her furry face was shadowed, but he could tell from the single wide open yellow eye that he wasn’t an expected sight.
The eyes darted from his face to his hands, placed upon the paintings. Jimin had barely opened his mouth, to apologize, to explain, perhaps to snap but the Princess had already dropped to her haunches, a low growl ripping through the back of her throat.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? HOW DARE YOU COME HERE?”
Jimin stumbled back, pressing against the wall as the monstrous Princess leapt, scrambling towards the paintings and covering them up.
“I…I was just,”
“LEAVE! I WANT YOU OUT. GO! NOW,”
Jimin had heard enough and it presented a brilliant opportunity to him. She wanted him to leave. He could leave.
So quick he was, sidestepping the crouching girl that he had no time to see her fall to the floor, the cloak that covered and hid her body wrapped protectively around as a whimper replaced her roars. The Princess’s sobs never reached Jimin’s ears.
He didn’t wait to find any of the household staff. He knew that they would ultimately attempt to stop him, try to make sense of the Princess’s commands. So he hurried down the stairs and out the side to where he’d found the stables.
His own Geureum was gone, with his father but he yanked on the reins of a white stallion; titled Jjangu on his crest. Jimin saddled the panicking horse blindly, patting it only once to soothe it before he was mounting and taking off in the distance of the town.
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Your roaring yells had reached the ears of the household, of course. Namjoon was the first to respond, sliding into the royal quarters; his wooden stand skidding as he found you curled up under the one painting that you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy.
It was your family portrait, commissioned just two years before your lives would change forever and while you had torn up every picture of your face that hung up, you couldn’t destroy your parent’s.
Namjoon could tell from the shudders that shook your form that you were just finishing crying. Propriety dictated that he wouldn’t trespass on a royal in distress but you were his charge, he had raised you, taught you, attempted to feed you since he could bring your fear and panic at being transformed into a beast to heel.
“Princess…Y/N,” He coaxed, golden bars running through the shaggy mass where your hair would be. His heart ached at the soft sniffles that sounded too loud because you…you weren’t human after all.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. And it’s okay to not be, you won’t be less of a person for your troubles.”
You raised your head with a deep scoffing laugh. “I am not a person, Namjoon. I’m a monster; a loathsome creature.”
The clock ticked angrily but didn’t prod the issue. “The boy -,”
“Left; I scared him off. That’s that then.”
Namjoon shook his head, casting a glance out to where the snow had become wilder, until only white could be seen. “Your highness, he left in a terrible condition. He’ll get lost.”
“I don’t care.”
“Princess, Namjoon,” Two heads turned to where Seokjin rushed in, candles burning on his many wicks. “The boy, Jimin, he has taken off on your horse! He’s taken Jjangu.”
“WHAT IN THE WORLD?” You screeched loudly enough for both grown men…objects to flinch. “MY HORSE…HOW COULD HE DARE, HE -,”
“Princess, the wolves, if the wolves find them, it will be too late,” Seokjin murmured softly.
There was a heavy pregnant pause in which Namjoon and Seokjin stared at their Mistress, holding her shaggy head aloft as if she was praying for pity. Finally, under the gaze of your caretakers and advisors, you slumped, admitting defeat.
“Alright, alright, I suppose we can’t leave him to die in the blizzard.”
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When you had first transformed, a howl had been the first thing that had scared you. Your small hands and feet had turned into paws, huge claws protruding from the nails. Your hair seemed to grow everywhere until you were taught that it was fur, too coarse and too matted to be what had been a well taken care of head of hair.
Your first memories after the transformation had been running away, tripping and falling multiple times because you weren’t used to your new body until Namjoon and Yoongi had found you, cowering under a broken branch. Howls had pushed you into a scared ball and when they’d found you, they’d spoken. You could still remember a clock and a teapot trying to act brave as a single wolf, too big and gleaming in the moonlight curled back its lips, issuing the threat that had locked you in your castle forever.
Of course, with age and your guardian’s patience you had honed your new abilities; speed, agility, strength and keen senses.
It was easy finding your fearful horse and Jimin, running on all fours as if a wolf yourself. Your ears pricked, picking up the yells of the man and whinnying as wolves surrounded your charges on all sides.
It was stupid to charge in head first, but when you saw a wolf snap Jimin’s weapon, a single stick in two between its jaws, it was exactly what you did.
Your first powerful spring, landed you clean behind Jimin’s now buckled body. The wolves immediately halted, intelligent eyes darting from the curling boy at your feet back to you, tongues rolling perversely.
You felt rather than saw Jimin raise his head, wondering why the wolves hadn’t ended him already. When he felt the larger presence behind him, he turned, gaping up at you as you placed one paw to the front, marking a line, marking a territory.
Loud snaps surrounded you, the wolves reorganizing till they circled you now, ready to attack from every direction.
Your eyes, however, sought one wolf out, finding its way back, sitting on its hind legs, tail wrapped around them. You snarled at it, the wolf obviously smirking at you before it rose up, stalking over to the head of the pack. It gave a short yap and the wolves, in once sleek, collective move, pounced.
You only had time to jump over Jimin, drawing the attack away from the human and your precious horse before you felt the first swipe of claws at your back. You whirled around, your own paws frantically hitting and lashing out, trying to bat away as many wolves as you could with as much force as you could muster.
You knew you couldn’t kill them, of course but it wouldn’t be for the lack of trying.
The wolves landed as many blows as they could on you, punishing you, sinking in teeth around your wrist, snapping around your ankles until you could smell the warm, metal in the air, from mostly your wounds.
“Enough,” You finally heard the one wolf, it’s comrades backing away with one word until you were left, swaying, eye to eye with its imperious gaze.
“Back off.” You growled but the only reply you got was a rough snicker, animalistic and feral.
“We would, just to see you fail in this attempt, Princess. We still wait for our master, and the day he becomes King, we shall have the boy for dinner. Another time,” The wolf tipped its tail at you, before turning and trotting off.
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Jimin only raised his head when the sounds he could hear was the stamps of the horse’s hoofs, the whistling of the wind through his hair. When he peeked through slatted eyes, he could see you, tall, bulky, standing up to your full height as he caught the wolf farther away, dainty steps carrying it till it melted in the snow.
Jimin’s black robes that he hadn’t changed when he rushed out where wet, dirty again and he picked himself up, trying not to make too much sound lest you turn and put him through the same assault as you had the wolves.
He had heard the heavy thuds of your paws, the throwing around of the wolves as they banged against trees and rocks. He knew you could shatter his skull with one paw but then he’d also heard your screams of pain, each singing through him as you tried to keep the wolves away from him and your horse.
He reached the reins, about to climb on when he saw the horse’s eyes for the first time. They were wide, the neck bobbing as it tried to free itself from Jimin’s holding.
Jimin frowned, turning from the horse to where you stood and for the first time, he saw the damage inflicted upon you. Your heavy cloak had been ripped to tatters, hanging off of you in ribbons that exposed him to you. You wore pants, to contain the large hind legs, a simple men’s shirt. It was now smeared in stark red, the crimson pooling from your feet and arms into the pure snow below.
He watched as you tilted to the side, your weight finally tipping extreme and you collapsed, snow and blood flying from the impact.
Jimin turned to the horse again, reading the pain in the horse’s eyes.
It loved you.
Jimin once again turned to where your body lay, shivering just so slightly.
You were just a child, a cursed little baby girl.
Jimin’s mind flooded with images of a small girl in the painting, phantom giggles in his ears.
You saved him. He couldn’t leave you to die.
Jimin dropped the reins, his feet sinking into the inches deep snow as he ran over to you, kneeling down to turn your face towards him.
Your eyes were long closed, your mouth parted just enough for him to see the fangs within but he looked past that. Your fur was wet, both from the melting snow but also from your blood and as he cupped your huge head, he knew you wouldn’t last in this cold. Already, your breathing was erratic, your chest falling further with each exhale.
He looked to the horse that trotted closer, responding to the man who was helping his owner. It took severe effort, hefting the Princess but Jjangu was unexpectedly strong. The Princess lay across the horse, feet and head dangling and swaying as Jimin took the reins again, deciding to walk as he made his way back to the Castle, your home.
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If the household staff was surprised to see Jimin back again, especially with an injured Princess lobbed across her horse, they didn’t express it. Instead they swarmed, concerned around where Jimin heaved and unceremoniously dropped the Princess at the base of the stairs.
While a coat rack took a shivering Jjangu back to the stables to be fed and warmed, Jimin helped the rest of the objects drag their Mistress to the sitting room.
“Great, what’s she gotten into now?” He heard as he unbuttoned his coat, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
“Not now, Jungkook; she’s injured badly, near death. Either help, or stay out of the way as always.”
Jimin tilted his head towards the sullen reply, straining to hear. “Gladly, if I never see her face, it will be too soon. She’s the reason we’re like this, or have you forgotten?”
“Jungkook, that’s enough!” He heard the low angry rasp of Namjoon’s voice when there was a shuffle in his eyesight.
The Princess seemed to be able to tell that she was safe again, grunting and whining as she sat propped up in a huge winged armchair. Her tattered robes had been shed off, her modesty preserved by the fact that she was entirely covered in fur but Jimin kept his eyes averted respectfully anyway. Her large legs were drawn up as she clutched her wounded, slashed appendage close to her body.
As Yoongi hobbled over, full of hot water, followed by medicine bottles on a spidery tray that clattered, Jimin ripped bandages. He filled up a golden bowl with the steaming water, dipping medicine and cloths in it.
The moment he stood up, intending to nurse the Princess, she flinched, surprising Jimin as she cowered away from him. She turned her back, and he could hear a distinct whimper, as she licked at her injuries.
She’s not used to being vulnerable, Jimin realized, his slack frame pushed to movement with the fear that her licking and prodding would infect and worsen the slashes.
“Now, now, don’t do that.” He moved too fast, grabbing a hold of the Princess’s shoulder and was immediately met with a wide open maw, her ferocious roar shifting his hair back.
Jimin dropped his hand, scowling at the stubborn slump of her arm, drawn back to her tongue. “You’ll make it worse. Just let me help.”
“It hurts.” She snapped when Jimin leaned right over her, attempting to wipe at the mangled arm.
“If you hold still, maybe it won’t.” Jimin tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to snap at the already pained girl. Her screams at the biting and slashing wolves were still too fresh in Jimin’s mind. He wanted to show some kindness but she was just so…pigheaded.
“Maybe if you hadn’t run away, I wouldn’t be hurt.”
Jimin raised his eyebrows at her petulant tone. If he wasn’t already aware, he would’ve believed the Princess to still be a child at the sullen note of her voice. Something tugged at the corners of his lips as she attempted to cross her arms; the clawed up one still dangling in his hold.
“You told me to leave, remember?”
“I didn’t mean the castle.”
Jimin dropped the bloodied cloth in a waste bowl. “I suppose the lesson here is that you should watch your temper, isn’t it?” He made an exaggerated show of dipping another cloth in the medicine bowl, ignoring the Princess as she huffed and dropped her huge head on an equally huge paw, distinctly pouting.
“Please hold still now, this is going to pinch some.” He used the same tone as he would on his father, concentrating at digging out some remaining bits of grime from the claw marks. A few of his swipes made the Princess cringe and try to pull away but not once did her strength win against his sharp glances and sudden tightening of grips as he repeated the process on her feet.
Finally as he did the bandages he spoke again.
“Thank you, for saving my life.”
The Princess was quiet for so long that Jimin had to chance a look up, catching her quickly smoothening her expression into one of nonchalance. “You’re welcome.” She growled lowly.
But Jimin had already seen the bitten lips, the downward slope of her brow and the glassiness of her eyes.
He stayed right there, on the floor at her feet for a while, until the Princess, who had been staring into the fireplace had her eyes drooping. He stood when he was sure she was asleep, snores shuffling the fur near her mouth and nose.
Jimin folded back the sleeves on his muddy shirt. He knew he needed to change his clothes if he wanted to stay well, if he was sick as well, who would take care of the Princess? He hardly thought Seokjin’s candle hands or Namjoon’s golden bars would be able to change soiled bandages and he could already feel a chill coming.
Placing a huge blanket on the sleeping Princess, he went up to his room to change.
“How is she?” Hoseok asked immediately, as he shuffled inside for something to wear.
“She’ll have a few days with that bandage. It’ll probably scar.” Jimin answered tiredly, dropping his clothes and entering the bath where Yoongi was already pouring hot water in the tub.
“Thank you,” Yoongi said as he stood by. Jimin turned his head to look at the gleaming pot in question. “For not leaving her to die,” Yoongi clarified.
“Of course not…I will admit I had the thought but, I couldn’t. Not after she’d risked hers to save mine and Jjangu.”
“Jjangu was a gift foal from her father. She loves the animal more than anything.” Jimin heard before with a click of the bathroom door, he was alone.
He sighed, laying his head back along the porcelain edge. He was desperately exhausted, aching and needed to sleep, but there was a gnawing in his chest. He knew the Princess was in good hands now; he would only be needed when she needed her bandages changed and he knew she could manage that herself but he found it difficult to not be worried for the girl that somehow seemed so small and scared in all her ferocious enormity.
“Maybe…maybe I could try to be her friend.” Jimin mumbled, more to himself than anything as he closed his eyes.
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Jimin took his vow seriously.
The first thing he did when his eyes popped open and fell on the customary outfit left for him; a simple powder blue shirt and black trousers – was to jump up and get dressed even before Hoseok had opened the eyes on top of it.
Quietly, he made his way down to where the Princess was still snoozing in the chair, flinging open curtains and inching closer just in case she woke up and panicked.
“Princess,” Jimin called gently, her head moving just so. “Your highness, wake up.”
With a groggy groan, her head fell towards his direction, yellow eyes blinking open in the filtering morning light.
And to the Princess’s dawning wonder and shock, Jimin gave her a beautiful, wide grin; possibly the most beautiful sight she had ever witnessed in her life.
From then on, both Jimin and Y/N tried to make an effort.
Y/N still felt her temper flare up quick as a snake’s attack but she quelled it in fear of the look on Jimin’s face. Jimin learned that despite her age, the Princess was still just a sheltered child who knew only what had been told to her.
Jimin tried to get you to participate in various activities. He taught you a few card tricks with a very old battered set that Seokjin unearthed, he told you stories of France, his life, what the world had to offer outside of the small town that had forgotten and abandoned her, he even tried to paint with her – although that ended in a disaster that had Yoongi steaming from his spout, Taehyung quickly sent to supervise the cleaning.
You, on the other hand, took Jimin outside.
Even though, Jimin had had the Guides to lead him places, no one knew the Castle and its grounds like you did, having spent fifteen years prowling and growing in it.
You allowed him to ride Jjangu while you walked, sometimes raced him. He had to change your bandages multiple times during these rides, noting with some joy that you healed faster than a human.
With four wild puppies and Jjangu, you took him to the top of a stile where in the falling night; he could count a multitude of stars and constellations. You threw Jimin in fountains; let him sift through flowers in the crumbling greenhouse, taste the fruits from the Grottos.
“My parents,” you pointed with a clawed finger, up at the huge entwined statues that had haunted Jimin before. He looked, focused on their faces more now, recognizing them from the portrait.
“Are they…gone?”
“No, just left frozen, to watch over what happens to me,”
Jimin turned to see you staring down at your palms, the story of the curse now making him enraged for your sake rather than sad. However, he kept mum, afraid of upsetting you rather than providing comfort. Instead, he took your huge gnarled hand, leading you quietly back.
Jimin and you took meals together now, lunches and dinners. He had unintentionally grimaced when he saw you simply lower your face and devour the food directly from the bowls and plates. In time, once he saw you try for him sake, he realized that your hands were simply too big for the dainty silverware and fragile glass goblets that fitted so perfectly in his.
So the next meal, Jimin surprised you by asking Taehyung to simply not provide any at all, raising his own bowl to his lips to eat as you did.
Your smile, huge, fanged, fur creasing in the corners of your mouth yet so happy, golden hue shining in your eyes, made him make it a habit to accommodate you, rather than ask you to change for him.
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“Can I open them now?”
Jimin followed the trail of your cloak, sight barred by his hands as you attempted to lead him off for a surprise. You had been excited, the morning you simply strode into his room before he was even dressed. He had rushed behind Hoseok, who laughed at the pink of his cheeks and flustered backing away from you, until you claimed that ‘it was ready’ as he hurriedly put some clothes on.
“Not yet,”
Jimin heard the creak of doors, the clangs of curtain rings and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin.
“Okay, open them.”
Jimin dropped his hands with an indulgent smile, first looking at where you stood at the window, paws clasped together, and a nervous grin on your animal face. Your ears stood on point, waiting for his reaction as Jimin’s eyes wandered…and then widened till they were ready to pop right out.
It was a library.
A wonderful, glorious library, better than the dingy bookshop in town, better than any he’d seen in Paris. This was better than anything anyone could create in the whole world. Towering till the eye could see, with ladders and actual staircases leading up, his neck strained trying to fathom just how many books there were there.
“Oh my god,”
“Do you like it?”
Jimin looked down at where you were nearly vibrating with nervous energy.
“I had it cleaned, that’s what took so long. Seokjin told me you loved reading so I thought you should have this. I don’t know if everything is alright, but I checked last night and,” You stopped rambling when Jimin said your name. It was just a soft whisper but it tore a shiver through you at the tenderness, the fondness in it.
You had never heard anyone speak to you like that – not even your caretakers.
Jimin was practically aglow. His eyes shone as if someone lit coals underneath, his teeth blinded with the power of his smile, before his eyes turned to invisible slits.
“I absolutely love it, Y/N. Thank you; no one has ever done something like this for me before. This is perfect.” He strode forwards, his hand reaching for your face where his fingers nestled within the shaggy fur on your cheeks. He kept his smile fixed, nails gently scratching as your breath caught at the affection.
Jimin stared up at you, his own eyes and face sobering at the wide eyed look on your face. His fingers slowed till they just rested there, the both of you staring at one another.
“Ahem,” Jimin finally cleared his throat, removing his hand from your face. Was that disappointment he saw across your face? He turned to the shelves. “What shall we read first?”
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Something thudded in Jimin’s chest, racing his blood with adrenaline as you and he sat on the floor in the sitting room, books strewn around you and the fireplace bathing you in heat.
“…and they lived happily ever after.” Jimin finished, closing the fifth book.
He had laughed and placed his head on yours when he discovered that you loved stories as much as he did. You had demanded him to read for you with one, two and the next three books. Jimin had happily obliged, enjoying the way you now sprawled on your front, arms cradling your head, looking at him with such a rapturous expression, he could melt.
“Read…one more…?” Jimin looked down to where you slid another book in his lap. Your eyes were big, hopeful and the rush of emotion that swirled in Jimin’s stomach was nowhere polite. He thought back to Hyebin, wanting to be married to him and yet knowing that she would fall asleep at the one thing Jimin was so passionate about. He cursed himself for the comparison. There was none. Hyebin wouldn’t even occupy the shadow of who you were.
“Y/N…I’m tired. How about you read for me now?” he leaned back on his arms, nudging the book back at you.
You paused, sitting up slowly before taking the book in your huge hands.
“I…I’ll rip it.”
“I’ll fix it back for you.” Jimin said immediately.
Your face fell as you opened the book, taking some time to flip it to the first page. Jimin watched; somewhat concerned as you slowly read the first of the fairytales.
“Once…up – on, a time…”
“Y/N, love,” Jimin had no time to worry about the endearment that slipped his mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“I…I can’t,”
“Can’t…read…?” He guessed.
You nodded quickly, fearfully.
“Oh, I thought Namjoon taught you.”
“Alphabets, a little book of stories and history…but I…I can’t read big literature. I can’t even hold books.”
Jimin’s heart cracked as you glared fiercely at your hands again.
“No matter, I’ll teach you, here, come now. I’ll hold the book for you.” Jimin grabbed the book, holding it open for you as he slowly, pronounced the words, you following him.
Behind you, unbeknownst to both of you, Yoongi, Namjoon, Seokjin and Taehyung sighed dreamily.
“Think they’re in love yet?” Jungkook drawled from behind them.
“Not just yet, I suppose, but they’re getting there.” Namjoon said.
“They need one more push.” Yoongi muttered.
“And what better than…a ball,” Seokjin glanced at Taehyung, wearing identical smirks.
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Hyebin lay on her front, draped along the chaise in a manner that would have most men in the town be willing to do her bidding. The one she wanted, however, hadn’t even gone past the town in ages. She was bored; dejected from the lack of attention and her brother – she cast a venomous look to where her older sibling paced in front of the fireplace – hadn’t done a thing for her.
“Don’t look at me like that, Hyebin. I’m thinking.” Kai said, catching her eye.
“Well, perhaps you could think later. Isn’t this the time for action?” Hyebin cupped her face.
“Not yet; your impulse is what ruined your chances with the boy in the first place.”
Hyebin scowled.
“But don’t you worry your pretty head, darling sister, for your brother has a wonderful plan in mind.”
“Which is…?”
“Never mind you, you will go about ruining things and Jimin won’t marry you as well. You will only blame me.”
Hyebin slammed a small fist on the chaise. “Kai…tell me!” She whined but Kai only walked to the door, opening it as he tossed her a cloak. “Come on, we’re going to play nice and talk it out with Park Jimin.”
Much to their disappointment, however, and to Hyebin’s rage, when they arrives at the cottage of the Parks, it was completely dark. Not even one candle had been lit on the porch.
Kai knocked; once, twice, thrice even yelled for both Jimin and Mr. Park but the only thing to reply was the keening silence.
“They’re not here.” He mused.
“You don’t think they…left, do you?” Hyebin whispered.
“All their things are still here.” Kai’s eyebrows creased, flickers of annoyance and true anger flaming in his own eyes. “Well, we won’t stop. They have to come back some day. We’ll be ready.” He ignored the smack of his sister’s hand at his back, striding back towards the pub.
He needed a drink.
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When you entered your quarters after a day of playing in the gardens with Jimin, watching him weave a crown of roses and dandelions which he placed on your head, you weren’t expecting to see Seokjin standing there with a bunch of standees and mannequins that used to be ladies in waiting for your mother.
“Um…Seokjin,” You queried even as you were swarmed with too many ceramic hands.
“’Tis the day, your highness, it is the day of your birthday! We have to have a ball in the honor!” Seokjin exclaimed.
You were shoved in a tub full of hot water and bubbles, the soap soaking into your fur. The words were enough to shoot a tendril of doubt through your heart, snaking till it looped around and squeezed. Your breath deepened as the mannequins began to scrub at you, rubbing in the water and soap till it reached the skin underneath.
It was your birthday already? No, it couldn’t be. You would remain a monster for all eternity otherwise. You would be condemned to live like this. Loveless, because who would look at you and feel anything but disgust and terror?
“Seokjin, my birthday isn’t till one another day.” You reminded the Maitre D` from behind the screen.
“The actual day isn’t of import, Princess. Besides,” He lowered his voice, “the day of your birthday will be the last day of the curse. It is make or break for us. You have to tell Jimin of your feelings for him and he has to return it. We simply cannot leave these things till the last minute.”
You remained silent, watching the mannequins use huge metal buffers to file and shine your claws.
“You…you do – you do have feelings for him, don’t you Your Highness?” Seokjin asked, misreading your silence.
You sighed, dipping further down into the water. Of course you had feelings for Park Jimin. Only an idiot would have a man like him around and not fall for his kindness, his generosity, and his open mind. Also, the small slants of his eyes, the way his lips split to reveal a gleaming smile that could halt an army, with shiny dark hair that fell into his eyes.
He was an angel.
And you were a hideous beast…
“It’s not my feelings that are a problem, Seokjin. How can someone like him ever feel for me, unless it’s fear? Maybe I haven’t earned his affection still.”
“Ah phish-posh, you forget, dearest Princess; we have all watched you and him very closely. We have seen the way he looks at you. Only a man that loves someone will have such a beam to their face.”
You sunk down further, Seokjin’s words easing the nervous grip in your chest a little. Perhaps…you did stand a chance. You could tell him of how you felt, he would tell you what he felt, and maybe you and your people can become human again.
You held the hope close as you were ushered to your own wardrobe, gowns that you had never once had the occasion of wearing, now shoved against your body and you into them, made to twirl in front of a huge mirror to check for anything to improve.
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The time had come.
The gown that both Seokjin and the lady in waiting had chosen was approved by Hoseok finally, him making you swish the skirt and twirl in front of it, while pins and needles were floating around you, just in case things needed to be loosened or tightened anywhere.
You, who for almost all your life had only donned on the left behind clothes of your father of the male staff had almost giggled at the fancy attention, enjoying the feel of silk and gossamer curling around you and pooling out from your waist.
The dress was a pale gold and silver, shimmering with crimson jewels strewn about the skirt. A heavy diamond brooch glittered to where the bodice and neckline fell in a waterfall of fabric and your hair had been lifted from the mass of fur at your neck, rolled up elegantly till it lay in a soft mass on top of your head.
“Your highness,” Seokjin said finally and you were surprised at the sniff he let out discreetly. “You look beautiful. Come, your gentleman waits.”
You followed the candelabrum, exiting the room as Seokjin led you to the ballroom, to where the stairs led up to where royals made their grand entrance. You could hear light conversations down below and if you close your eyes, you could almost imagine that it was really a ball of people come to wish you good fortune on your birthday.
Maybe, if you could put aside your doubts and the harsh truths that crushed hope in your chest, you could have it someday soon.
You heard the Maestro, now transformed into a sprawling Organ, strike up a tune and Seokjin swished a golden bracket, gesturing you to walk down.
You lifted up the enormous skirts, praying to anything divine that your claws, now shortened down and sparkling, wouldn’t rip the dress anywhere and walked down the stairs, seeing everyone gathered at the base of the staircase, smiling up.
Mostly, though, you only noticed Jimin.
It was true, you hadn’t paid much attention to what kind of clothes Hoseok had been putting on Jimin for the duration of his stay here. Before, it used to be rich fabrics and embellishments that glimmered with his movements. The moment of your friendship and he began to step out had caused for simple cloths, sans coats and cloaks unless it was snowing.
Now, Hoseok seemed to have pulled all stops.
The suit that Jimin wore was all black, form fitting with studded rubies along the lapels and buttons the same shade as yours. Gold lace wound around his neck and his hair shone with the same effort, as if he’d undergone the treatment you had as well.
He smiled widely when your eyes met his, stepping forward till he reached you.
“You’re stunning.” He said and you could only muster a shaky smile, fluttering from the sincere compliment. “Happy Birthday, Y/N,” he whispered, bowing as he extended a hand for you to take.
You let your paw rest gently on his, deliberate and careful not to let him feet the real weight of it. “Thank you,” you managed a smile as wide as his, before the rest of your household gathered around you, wishes poured out and rushed words carrying you off to the cake.
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Jimin was excited to see the cake, three tiers of it. Y/N’s eyes popped open wide, gaping at the sheer size of it but even as he grabbed her hand, leading her to cut into it; she was looking down, trying to muffle a smile.
He had to commend Yoongi and the entire kitchen staff. The cake was rich, fudgy and even he was rushing after that very last crumble. Finally, he felt the nudge of Taehyung, the cup around his ankle and he moved into action.
“Could I request for the birthday girl to bestow me a dance, your highness?” He stood up from his chair, slyly winking over to where Y/N put down her plate quickly, looking almost as if she was going to laugh.
“Of course, kind sir but I should warn you – I may step on your toes.”
Jimin chuckled, pulling her onto the glittering marble dance floor. “I don’t mind; you can step on my toes anytime.”
Y/N blinked down at him, Jimin could feel her breath catch at the way he would his arm around her waist and clasped her hand and couldn’t help but smile. She tried not to, moving slowly along with the way he led her, her attention focused down mostly to keep from actually crushing his feet when he stopped moving.
“Come on, let’s go look at the stars. Tonight, they’re as much more gorgeous than ever, as if they’re shining solely for you.”
He walked back with Y/N in tow, opening the balcony doors and letting her go out first before he shut them again, turning to see her stand at the rails, looking up where the stars mirrored in her golden eyes, twinkling in the sky and on the earth alike.
“So,” Jimin cleared his throat, gaining her attention again. “Are you enjoying your early birthday festivities?”
Big eyes blinked yet again at him, something shifting beneath as they were lowered. “I am, much more than I would usually, I suppose. I haven’t had a birthday in fifteen years.”
It was Jimin’s turn to blink, only in horror. “Not one in fifteen years?” he asked.
“Well, Taehyung tried, for the first two years, but then…I had no one to share it with. I had no one.”
Jimin closed in to where she stood with her back to him. His hand ached to rest along her cheek, turn her so he could look at her face but he resisted. “You have me now.”
She still didn’t turn. “Jimin…” A breath was drawn, as if steeling her for some deep resolve. He watched as your shoulders, clad in golden shimmers he wasn’t used to seeing her in slumped finally. “Are you happy here, with me?”
Jimin’s first instinct was to blurt out a simple ‘yes’. Was he happy here? Yes, he had everything he could possibly dream of and more here. He had the library, the gardens, the long winding hallways, the grottos…the silence, oh god, the blissful silence where no one bore down on him, no one judged him for not eyeing girls, not being interested in hanging out around the pub, not being Kai’s lackeys.
Was he happy with you? Of course, he, for the first time, felt someone was completely understanding and kind to him. No matter that he was perhaps the first to show her human kindness too but she let him be when he needed, listened to him read, asked him questions and challenged him. She fulfilled him in a way no one had.
No, they were two whole people. They had just found fulfillment in each other, and he was happy to call her home as much as the castle. He was happy. He was content.
Y/N didn’t seem satisfied. Her head turned fractionally, peering at him in such a fashion as to confuse Jimin. “Wouldn’t you ask for anything else, if you could? There must be something more you could ask for.”
Jimin hesitated, once again hand hovering over her but unable to touch. “I…yes,” he sighed, dropping his hand. “I would ask to see my father again but,” he quickly rushed on, lest she be upset. “I know I can’t, so I won’t press for it.”
She turned finally, too fast for him to not be startled. “There is a way. You can see your father.”
Jimin frowned, crossing his arms, more to protect himself against the temptation than defiance. “How?”
The Princess quietly walked by him, opening the doors and carrying on, Jimin taking a moment to follow hurriedly after her, still confused and a little worried before he realized that they were tracking a familiar path to his room.
“You had a way of seeing your father all the time.” Y/N spoke, stopping by the pool in the centre of the room. She bent down over it, gesturing for Jimin to join her. “You can call out for the waters to show you what you wish for. The waters even have healing abilities. The Wizard’s token, left behind to torment me with everything I can’t see but still so that I wouldn’t be able to harm myself in any way.”
Jimin heard it all; unnerved by the way someone could hurt a little child. Yet, the allure of seeing his father was way more than the urge to console the Princess. He sat at the edge as Y/N drew away to give him space.
“Please, show me my father.” Jimin said, his voice sounding desperate even to his own ears.
The water swirled clear, one turn, two turns before deepening into a whirlpool. Images swirled at the very bed of the pool, bubbling up till they hovered over the spin of the water. Jimin watched eyes tearing from horror as his father stumbled from one tree branch, to another, panting, struggling to stay on his feet.
“Oh no, father.” He nearly shouted, before remembering his father couldn’t hear him.
“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” his father chanted before finally dropping down into the snow, shuddering and curling up in the frigid ground.
“No!” He sprang to his feet, the illusion breaking with his movement, subsiding into the waters again, still and clear. “My father, he’s sick. He’s alone, wandering the woods, looking for me. He could be dying. Y/N, the wolves…what if the wolves find him?”
Jimin turned around to look at you, facing the window, silent as before. He wondered if you had heard him at all.
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You had heard him.
Your ears pricked, flattening against the side of your head as you processed the frantic desperation to Jimin’s voice, your mind racing with a million thoughts.
You thought back to your childhood, soft smiles and misty words now fogged with time…and then all you remembered was pain. The pain of changing and growing too many sizes too big, the eruptions of the fur, claws, having to get used to them. The pain of being unable to eat and the consequent process of starvation until Namjoon figured out how to feed you – like a dog.
The fear of being hunted mingled with the uninterrupted loneliness that no matter how much your staff tried to ebb, would never cease.
You remembered back to spending hours upon hours with the statues of your parents, wailing when it got too much, with even your own people afraid to approach you.
Then you thought back to the first day you’d met Jimin; brave and strong and so sacrificing, martyring himself for his father to stay here…with you; showing you kindness, helping you, teaching you, and even saving your life.
He’d sparked companionship for you.
How were you repaying it?
By holding him captive here? You had seen the devastation on his face that first night, the same pain that had been your constant. How could you claim to feel anything for him when you were hurting him?
You had lost everything as a child, and you had grown up used to it. You couldn’t put Jimin through the fresh agony of it. He had a life to get back to, loving people to help him.
He was human. He didn’t deserve to live with a paltry princess living in a curse.
And with that came the final blow…
How could he love someone who had torn him apart from his father? How could Jimin be fond of someone who had basically subjected his father to a pitiful, lonely death?
So you quelled the cry of your heart, steeling bands of iron around it until you could nurse its break alone. You made the decision simply because it was already set in place.
“You should go. Go back to him.” You said quietly.
There was a pause.
“What did you say?” You heard him, too close to you and you flinched away from his proximity.
“I grant you your freedom. You’re no longer my prisoner.” You turned to face him, grateful for the fur that absorbed any stray tears before they were obvious.
Jimin’s eyes were shiny as well, but you knew they were tears of joy. He gaped, his breath catching before he spoke, choked up – “Thank you.”
You watched, leaning against the window as he hurried to take off the heavy coat, instead shrugging on a simple, heavier cloak. He pulled on boots, easier to wade in the snow.
You, on the other hand, went to one of the dressers, unearthing a vial and moving to the pool, dipping and collecting the water in the shimmering glass.
“I’ll be back before you know it, Y/N. I think I’ll have to bring my father along sometime – convince him that you’re actually a big softie, none of the roaring monster that you were so kind enough to act as.”
His voice was teasing; light, even jovial as he eagerly approached you. You remained silent, handing him the vial.
“Here, take this. It’ll be useful to you. If you need to be healed…or it can help you remember me.”
Jimin’s smile faltered, looking from the proffered container back up to your eyes, now obviously dripping.
“I’m not going to be very long, Y/N. At least, not long enough for me to forget you.” He laughed, still pocketing the vial when you didn’t withdraw it. Sighing, you shook your enormous head.
“No…you can’t come back. You have to stay away. Stay with your father.” You refused to meet his eyes.
“Wait, what…what are you saying? What do you mean I have to stay away?”
“It means that you shouldn’t come back to the castle.” Your voice broke. “You have to stay in the town, maybe even go back to Paris. Live your life, Jimin; you have the rest of it. You deserve much better than living in a dilapidated castle with a monster.”
“No! No, I can’t…Y/N; you’re part of my life. I can’t…I can’t just, let you think that of yourself and your home. Y/N, you’re so important to me.”
He was reaching for you, his hand going to wrap around yours but you backed away quickly, unable to let him touch you lest you break down and beg for him to come back, to stay with you. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t subject him to that.
You loved him too much for that.
Instead, you fled, turning on your heel and exiting the room on all fours, ignoring his rough calls of your name. You knew he wouldn’t waste time chasing you, not with his father in that state, not with the threat of the wolves hanging about his head.
When you entered your room, your whole staff was already present, with expectant beams on their faces. You even spied Jungkook in the midst, the feather duster nearly reeking of disdain.
“Well, how did it go? Did he say it back?” Seokjin nearly shook from excitement.
You dropped your head, already dreading their reaction. “I…I let him go. His father is sick. He needed to go back.”
There was a silence so deep, so disappointed; you inwardly cringed even when Jungkook broke it with a caustic snicker.
“But…but we were so close. Why would you do that, Princess?” Namjoon asked.
You walked to the window, throwing them open to see the last vestiges of hooves vanishing in the snow. “Because, I love him,”
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Y/N had been right. There had been no time for Jimin to process what had just transpired in his room, not when the cries of his father echoed through his head. He mounted Jjangu and sped off in the direction he’d gleaned his father would be. He had to be single-minded for his father for now, he decided. He couldn’t take care of the old man if his thoughts were littered with questions, with confusion, with hurt as to why it was so easy for Y/N to just tell him to leave. Did she not feel the same for him as he did her?
He knew he couldn’t disrespect her by showing up with his sick father at her doorstep after she’d told him to leave. Perhaps, after his father was healthy, he would map the course again, ask for answers, and plead to stay with her. Perhaps, he’d hurt her somehow and this was her way of protecting herself…?
Jimin sighed, laying his father back before warming water, laying thick cloths soaked in hot water along his forehead to fight the cold back. It took him back to when he’d patched Y/N up after the wolf attack and he had to shake off the thought when his father stirred, looking blearily up at him. “Jimin…you’re back!” His father sat up too quickly, holding his son at arm’s rest to check him before pulling him to his breast.
“Ah, son…I never thought I would see you again. But how…how did you escape the monster?”
Something tugged in him at his father’s tone, making him pull away from the man. “She’s not a monster, father. The legend of the Castle is true. She’s the cursed Princess…” Jimin sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes taking on the sheen of reminiscence as he recounted his journey with her till he was told to go back to his father.
He hoped perhaps, that his father would encourage him to go back, but he needed him to be stronger first, so once his tale was over, his father still gaping at how Jimin made the monster who had imprisoned him and his son sound so human, he fell asleep.
Jimin, however, didn’t. He paced back and forth from the fireplace to the bed, interrupted only by a quick, sharp knock on the door.
Scowling at the late hour, Jimin opened the door, not too pleased to see who it was on the threshold.
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“Jimin,” Kai beamed, almost too familiarly as Hyebin tipped her hood back, studying Jimin as if she was planning to gut him. Her nails were digging into her brother’s arm and Jimin wondered how strong Kai had to be to not wince.
“Kai,” Jimin modulated his voice coolly. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Entirely too late, my good man,” Kai turned his head to his sister. “Didn’t I tell you it would be rude to show up right now?”
Hyebin didn’t answer.
Jimin ran a hand through his hair, frustration making him further annoyed. He needed time and space to think, to process things. His father was sick, he had been a prisoner in an enchanted castle where he had found more solace and acceptance than he had in freedom, he had fallen for a cursed Princess who might or might not return his feelings but had forbade him to return to her. He needed to make plans for his future.
He couldn’t be discourteous though, not when they’d taken the trouble of coming by.
“Come in please; my father is ill and sleeping so if you could keep your voices down and be quick about this…” He let the door fall open further. Kai and Hyebin walked in as if they weren’t going to take no for an answer anyway, shedding off their cloaks and making themselves at home.
“Well Jimin, I must say it’s a relief to see you. Your father had been by the pub, you know, raving on about you being kidnapped and all by some monster and imprisoned. We dropped by a few times later to see the house empty.” Kai said. “We all thought he’d gone mad, or you’d run away and he was just lying to make us all look for you.”
Jimin didn’t look at the taller man, feeling the pinpricks of anger flare again at the accusation. “I…yes, I’ve been away. I was at the castle. My father wasn’t lying, neither is he mad,” He said coldly.
There was a silence in which unbeknownst to Jimin, Kai and Hyebin exchanged looks.
“Wait, you’re talking about the palace? The royal palace on the hill…that’s where you were and the monster is real?” Hyebin asked, bug eyed.
“Yes, the monster is your Princess and she’s not vicious or anything, Hyebin, unlike how you described her when you told me the story. She doesn’t devour children and she doesn’t make their bones into furniture.” Jimin snapped, crossing his arms before sighing as he glanced into the fireplace, eyes and voice softening. “She’s a little short-tempered, yes but she’s kind hearted and caring and intelligent and curious. She’s my friend.”
Kai watched Jimin calculatingly, while Hyebin clenched her jaw.
“It sounds like you like her.” She said finally.
“I do. Also, it’s really late. I think I should go to bed as well.” He said. His voice left no room for argument.
Kai gave him a tight smile, his too white teeth glinting almost maliciously in the firelight. “You think…it wise to harbor such feelings for a monster, Jimin? Need I remind you this…thing is cursed and is a bad omen in our town?”
“No Kai, she isn’t. Now please, I am tired.”
For a second, he thought that Hyebin would refuse flatly but even as he steeled himself to assert himself yet again, she was standing and with Kai in tow, moved out without another word.
Jimin puffed a breath of relief, moving to douse the fireplace. The swab plunged the living space in darkness and he stretched his arms above his head, arching his back, already looking forward to his bed when he heard the hushed conversation not too far from the house.
The one thing about living so far from the town and right in the middle of a disused farm was that there was nothing to absorb sounds. Each and every noise reverberated and echoed loudly in his house, enough for him to never be startled.
He went to the window, keeping back enough to see Kai, now holding his torch above him and Hyebin, talking. While Hyebin didn’t bother to lower her voice, Kai was trying to shush her, low and hissing but even his voice carried back to Jimin’s focused ears.
“…you didn’t see his eyes, Kai. He doesn’t just like this bitch. He loves her. He won’t even hear any truths about her!” Hyebin screeched.
“You sure know how to pick them, sister. A man who’s into bestiality,” Kai snidely replied, stopping when Hyebin grabbed his collars.
“This isn’t funny. You have to talk sense into him…or…I don’t…I don’t know, we have to kill this Princess of his.” Hyebin said.
“Keep your damn voice down, will you? Is that all you can think of in your pea brain? Jimin, Jimin, Jimin; all the time…it’s annoying.” Kai snatched away his coat from Hyebin. “Think of it like this, little sister. This girl is a Princess. She is our Princess, a royal. We cannot truly establish a government because a monarch is alive.”
“What the hell does that matter?”
“Darling sister, do use sense. Jimin is here, which means this Princess doesn’t have a man around right now.”
“So…?”
Jimin heard Kai snap his jaw. “So, sister, I go and I marry her. Simple, and effective; I become King, all powerful and she is out of your way. I will command Jimin to marry you and since you will be royal; he cannot hope to refuse.”
“You…you cannot be serious, Kai. I mean, are you really going to do that? She’s an animal.” Hyebin’s shock was palpable even to Jimin.
“Well, of course I don’t intend to honor the marriage wholly. I’m a hunter, aren’t I? Think of it like my greatest hunt, one that makes us the most powerful pair here. Plus, who’s to know…? Maybe the Princess meets a little accident a few days after our wedding. At least the kingdom will have a king they know and trust; they will only see it more as a sacrifice on my part.”
“You’re…despicable, brother.” Hyebin’s lips trembled before stretching into a cruel smile that looked odd on her beautiful face. “But a genius,”
“I know that. Now hurry up, we need to go to the pub and collect a mob. I cannot go alone in case the Princess tries to get aggressive. I’m going to need witnesses just in case we need to come back and convince Jimin his lovely Princess was actually a monster after all.”
Jimin was moving even before the fleck of light completely vanished from sight.
All thoughts and feelings of exhaustion melted from his body, arms and legs regaining energy as he burst into his father’s room. The old man started awake from the sound, jolting and clutching the sheets as he looked at the manic light in Jimin’s eyes.
“Son, what – what’s the matter?”
“I have to go father. I have to go back to the castle. Y/N is in danger.” Jimin rushed his words, tossing things from dressers till he found a bag, throwing some matches and a torch into it. He patted his pockets for the vial of pool water Y/N had given him, about to turn for the door when his father clasped his shoulders.
“No! I just got you back; I cannot let you go back there!”
“Father, you don’t understand. Kai…he’s taking a mob to her! They’re going to kill her, all because I opened my mouth.”
Jimin’s father wavered, his grip loosening only slightly.
“Come with me, then. See for yourself.” Jimin moved past the old man, not waiting for him to follow. However, when he reached Jjangu, who raised his head quizzically, his father, was right there, climbing on behind his son.
Praying that he wouldn’t be too late, he leaned over to Jjangu’s ear.
“Come on boy, we’re going home to our Princess.”
Jjangu whinnied, rising up on his front legs and then they were racing from the stable, in the direction of the palace.
Jjangu thankfully took the way that they were most familiar with, through the woods. Even as they surpassed the town, he could see the lit fires, domestic weapons of all sorts raised as cries and shouts filled his ears. They were breaking down the blockade; he realized when he saw the closed bookshop, going only the way they knew.
His fault…his fault…
Jimin shook his head, nudging Jjangu to go faster. He had to reach Y/N before Kai did, or he would never forgive himself.
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The fire leapt high and powerful, licks of warmth flaring out against where you sat with your back to the muttering and mourning gossips of your royal staff.
You knew that the moment you’d spilled out the truth about how you’d sent Jimin away, even forbidding him to ever set foot back in the castle, you’d basically condemned your entire household and yourself to a grim fate, but could you condemn him to one as well? No, you couldn’t. Besides, you were used to this now, used to living like an animal. Jimin shouldn’t have to live in company of one for the rest of his life.
Behind you, Jungkook led most of the ranting. “I’m telling you; this was the plan all along. Get the Mistress all soft and mushy so he could get out of here first chance he could get.”
“Jungkook,” Yoongi sighed. “His father was sick.”
“So, all our families are probably dead now. We won’t ever get to see them now, or even to see their gravestones.”
You knew he was right. Maybe it was ok to live with yourself like this, but sacrificing your own people to this curse made guilt creep up your throat tenfold.
“Perhaps, we shouldn’t have gotten as attached to him as we did, even before knowing what his obligations were.” Seokjin said.
You were about to turn to snap at them all to get back to their chores when Namjoon suddenly squeaked, the clogs of his clockwork chiming anxiously.
“Wait, wait, there’s someone coming…OH lords above! Princess, Princess, it’s the townsfolk, invading the castle gates. It’s a mob!”
“Wait, what…?” You nearly fell off the chair, confused when the doors to the sitting room were flung open again, a squad of soldier armor leading a panting Jimin in.
“Y/N…mob, people are coming for you…run!” He managed to puff out before leaning his weight on his knees, drawing heavy breaths.
You blinked quickly. Didn’t you tell him not to come back? But he was here now, come to warn you about the mob…worrying for your safety.
“Jimin…” You breathed, “You came back.”
You drew closer to the wheezing man, a paw running along his smooth cheek.
“Of course, I did. I had to warn you.” Jimin looked up at you, time slowing as your gazes remained suspended. He placed his own hand on yours, squeezing it even as Jungkook broke it in his rasp.
“Well now, that’s sweet. So, are we to assume you led the mob here before promptly losing courage?”
You and Jimin both turned to look at the feather duster now propped up on a dresser, eyeing Jimin with as much disdain as you had seen him do you. Jimin gaped, flabbergasted while you were ready to rip out all his feathers.
“Jungkook, he came to warn us. Don’t be an idiot.” Namjoon said roughly.
“I can’t believe you’d lap that up, sir. He left here, went back home to tend to his ill father, so he said, and now he’s back…with encroachers on his heel. Why would you believe him? Because of the pool; the waters are also subject to imagination, Namjoon, or have you forgotten?”
“Enough, we cannot fight amongst ourselves, we have to protect the castle and our Princess.” Yoongi said. He turned to the soldiers, ordering for them to gather the rest of the household up and prepare for defenses.
“Ask him, Princess. Ask your dearest if he told them or not.”
You rolled your eyes at Jungkook, turning, however, to Jimin. It was better to put this to rest. “Tell him, then, tell him you didn’t.”
Jimin was still looking at Jungkook, a peculiar expression of conflict gathering his eyebrows together.
“Jimin…” You prompted.
“I…” He looked at you then, and just the look in his eyes – wide, pleading, had your hand slipping from him.
“See,” Jungkook said, as Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi and Taehyung gaped at their friend. “I told you, he told them.”
“Jimin, tell me you didn’t.” You whispered.
“I – I did, but I had no idea -,”
“That they were going to take advantage of the fact that a whole castle was left unattended and come to loot it? Or that they were going to come to kill and behead the Princess so they could mount her head upon their walls?”
“Why…how could you?”
Jimin looked at you again, away from the brewing anger and distrust of the staff. “Y/N, try and understand. I only told the truth, I told them you were harmless.”
“You’re lying.” Jungkook hissed.
You watched his hand try to reach for you, pull at you, but you drew away, cringing away from his touch. He stuttered in his steps, looking at you, beseeching.
“Princess,” Namjoon called softly, “what are your orders?”
You looked away from Jimin, reminding yourself you had duties to perform. “Keep safe the castle. My parents…they shouldn’t have to see their home seized in front of their eyes.” Your anger flared as you glared at Jimin finally. “Remind them that there still is a monster in the castle.”
Without another word, you dropped down on all fours and leaped clean over Jimin’s head, bounding for the roof from where you could see everything and lead stray invaders away from your people and home.
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Your orders were followed to a tee. Thousands of household goods launched an attack on the people who were mostly comprised of men, having no idea how to operate the basic home wares.
Drawers smacked into jaws, hot water and oil were poured on head, knives and burning torches chased men around until they thought it better to just leave the castle alone and crawl away, defeated.
You stood on top of the parapets, watching your subjects nurse and curse over their bruised and burned extremities, retreating from your home. Perhaps, there would be no reason for the monster to show up after all. No legends would pass around; no one would spread talk to lure hunters and thieves to your home.
You didn’t go down though, instead, curling into yourself on the edge of the roof.
As happy as you were about the prospect of people leaving you alone, you had to contend with the fact that it was Jimin, the man you trusted, the man you loved who had ruthlessly allowed people to come hunt for you. You had mattered nothing to him. It would’ve been better to have someone draw a knife through your heart now, it might’ve hurt less than the betrayal.
“Oh Princess,”
Your ears pricked.
“There you are. You know, when I didn’t see a huge, hunkering monster down below I was worried Jimin might have lied.”
The voice was unfamiliar, nasty and it grated on your nerves so you stayed still, hoping the person would mistake you for a statue and pass by.
“Apparently, the poor boy hadn’t lied. He was so in misery you see, had to come back, leaving his little lady behind. Someone had to convince him that a princess needs a real man around for a husband.”
You frowned, feeling it draw closer.
“So I have a proposition. You marry me and we live happily enough. I’ll even throw in a wedding kiss.”
The footsteps behind you stopped, and you hoped that your silence had fooled him enough until they started again. “Now, Princess, it’s rude to not acknowledge a man talking to you. Turn around; let’s see what got Jimin so dewy eyed. I have to see if you’re worth all the talk.”
You remained still.
“Turn around now.”
You ignored him.
A sharp, plunging pain ripped through your back, making you gasp and seize up. Something pinched at the centre of your back, protruding out and you knew it was an arrow, turning to see the tall man, draw another from his quiver, placing it on his bow.
“Well now, looks like we’ve found our communication link. Are you going to be nice, now?”
You flailed, clawing behind to draw out the agonizing spike from your body.
“No use. I have perfect aim. Now, stop dancing and listen unless you want another to keep it company in your chest.”
He drew back the bow string.
“KAI, STOP!”
You stopped as well, seeing the man – Kai – turn around to look at where Jimin stood on the top most balconies, leaning almost all the way down. You took advantage of the momentary distraction of the hunter, throwing your full weight at him.
Your muscles and joints screamed at your movements, huge as they were, weighing you further down as the man turned quickly to you, trying to aim the arrow towards your body. You gripped his hand, twisting it out of the way.
“This is a nice surprise! Seems like you really are a monster, and here you were hoping for a human companion!” The Hunter laughed maniacally, shaking hair out of his eyes.
You growled, pulling the hunter close enough to snatch his bow, snapping it with a simply pinch of your fingers. “Get out of my house.” You gripped his throat, squeezing just enough for him to be able to tell. “Never come back…or I will kill you.” You flung the man away from him as the disgusting being that he was, backing away.
Adrenaline fading, the fatigue of blood loss raised its ugly head again, faltering your steps and blurring your vision.
“Y/N, here, come here, you’re hurt.”
You turned once again to where Jimin stood, his hand extended for you and stumbled towards him, shaky feet nearly throwing you over the edge more than once. You reached near him, raising your hand to grasp his and began to climb.
“You’re still here.” You choked.
“Of course, I had to clear things up.” Jimin smiled, eyeing you carefully.
You made to return the smile when another scream of pain tore through you, making Jimin jump before he saw the knife embedded deep in your side.
“NO!” He roared, feeling you slip from his fingers when he saw Kai’s added weight clinging to your cloak.
Your back curved backwards; Kai gripping the back of your cloak and hair in a tight fist. His lips split in a wide, sinister smile. “Go on Jimin, pull us up. You save her, you save me.”
Jimin snarled a curse at Kai, eyes darting from your drooping eyes to Kai’s bright ones. He couldn’t save Kai, he knew that. Left alive, he’d keep coming back again and again. You would never truly be safe with Kai alive.
“It’s okay…”
Jimin’s eyes snapped to Y/N, narrowing at the small smile tugging at your lips in puzzlement.
“It’s okay; you have to let me go…”
“What, no, I’m not going to -,”
“It’s better this way.”
“Y/N, no, Kai let her go!”
“I love you, Jimin. I’m…I suppose this is goodbye.”
Jimin opened his mouth to shout for you to hold on when all sound stopped short. You opened your paw, his own hand too weak to hold up all the weight of your body and Kai together. He watched, too slow to move, too stunned to understand as your eyes closed, still smiling while Kai’s eyes widened, almost comically, smile fading and mouth opening in a silent scream as you both fell.
There was no time for Jimin to even scream for you.
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Everything was numb. Everything was silent.
Well, in all actuality, a battle had waged around him, promptly won by the small but mighty objects of Y/N’s household. Cheers of victory and joy could be heard from the lower rungs of the Castle. It was just that Jimin’s eyes could only see Y/N’s last smile, hear her last confession and feel her hand slipping from his.
All he knew was that Y/N was down here somewhere – ironically, falling right into her parent’s grotto – and he had to reach her. Nothing else mattered.
The soft grass of the grotto crushed and crumbled under Jimin’s boots, as he walked and broke into aching jogs as he spied the huge mass of fur on its side, reminiscent of when he’d seen Y/N topple over after saving him from the wolves. The memory stung his chest now.
“Y/N,” he gasped seeing Kai’s body almost completely trapped under hers, his fist still closed around her clothes.
He bent over, ripping his hand away and rolling his dead body away till it lay feet away, open eyes dead and unseeing, his laughter finally fading into nothingness.
Falling to his knees, he heaved Y/N’s head onto his arms, propping it against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed as well; smile gone and he could spot a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth into the fur. His hand trailed down to the knife in her side, slowly, gently easing it out and tossing far away from her as both arms came to wrap around her, rocking.
“Y/N, hey, it’s okay, come on wake up. He’s gone. Kai’s dead and every one fled. You’re safe now.” He hushed.
She lay still, too still, not even shifting a little in answer to his voice.
“Y/N,” Jimin vowed now to give up so soon. She had to be alive, she was probably just unconscious. He tapped her cheeks, ran his fingers through the mass of her hair and fur.
“Y/N, please, I’m so sorry.” He buried his head against her neck, taking in a whiff of the musk that he was so used to now. There was a change now; it smelt too metallic, too…sodden. “Please, wake up.”
She couldn’t be dead…she couldn’t leave him like this; not after saying she loved him and pulling off such a ridiculous stunt.
His body shook, feeling the chill settle in. Somehow, Y/N’s body that radiated so much warmth normally wasn’t enough to keep the cold away now. Jimin shuddered, drawing her closer before closing his eyes finally. A sob choked its way out his lips, followed by a sound that was too close to Y/N’s own agonized ones.
“Please, come back, Y/N, please, I love you too. So much, so much, please,” he rocked faster, more to keep himself moving than to shake her awake. He couldn’t stop moving, it would only mean for him to accept that Y/N wasn’t moving as well and that she was…she was.
His tears soaked through her fur.
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“Now, this is quite the unfortunate situation.”
Jimin hiccupped, looking up to where someone new had joined them in the grotto. For a wild second he thought that it was Kai but no. This man was much taller, skinnier, even unhealthy looking.
A snap echoed from behind him and he jumped, looking about to see a very familiar pack of wolves surrounding him, grinning and tongues lolling. He pulled Y/N closer but the wolves didn’t seem to intent on attacking, instead collecting behind the new arrival.
Jimin squinted, wiping off the blurring tears to see the man was known to him.
“You,” He said at the bookseller who peered down at the cursed Princess with something akin to bitterness.
“Me,” The old man hummed, turning to face the wolves and Jimin was astounded to see that a wave of this man’s hand was enough to line them neatly up.
“How…I thought you never left the bookshop. Did you come with Kai?”
“Kai?” The bookseller laughed, caustic casting a cursory glance at the dead man feet away. “That pathetic excuse for a human and you think he’d have any sort of influence over me?”
Jimin watched as the man drew himself to full height before light erupted out from somewhere in his chest, blinding Jimin and making him feel colder than he did before. Once he felt the light fade from his screwed up eyelids, he peeked through, gaping in disbelief.
Long black robes swirled around the now, considerably younger man, almost as if it was sewn directly from the shadows around him. Long sleeves fell back to reveal tattoos in a language Jimin had never seen before, glowing even till the skin of his bald head and face.
“Not quite who you expected, I see.” The man said.
Jimin was still trying to put together the old bookseller who had been so friendly to him transformed into this being when with a clatter and loud clangs they were surrounded with more things – this time on Y/N’s side.
Namjoon’s clock chimed angrily, Seokjin’s fiery wick gleaming in the dark as they caught the man standing over Jimin and Y/N. “The Wizard,” They gasped, followed quickly by Yoongi and the others who skid to a halt.
“Be gone, monster! You have killed our Mistress!” Yoongi clattered.
“You’re the one who cursed Y/N.” Jimin said, realization dawning over him like a pot of cold water. However, there was no fear in his voice. After all what was the use? Y/N was dead, neither she nor he could be hurt any further.
“Now, now, calm please. Is that any way to greet the man about to grant you salvation?” The Wizard raised his palms.
“You cursed us too swine!” Namjoon yelled.
“I did. And I fully intended to come back on her birthday to remind her that she owed herself to me if she wanted to have her life and loved ones back. It seems,” He looked down at Jimin cradling her body and again there was strange bitterness to his gaze, “I have been rendered useless. She has found love…I didn’t think it would’ve been possible.”
He looked up.
“So now, here, my word means something in the world.” Light shone again, only this time it was blue.
Jimin watched the light move out from the Wizard, creeping slowly to where Y/N lay against him. The light cocooned her, moving forward till it had surrounded everyone present in the grotto and on and on till all he could see was blue.
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Jimin’s proximity helped in seeing Y/N, and he clasped her protectively, worried the light was going to further cause her harm. Only, it didn’t. Instead, her weight began to ease up off of Jimin. Fur receded and fell off from her body to reveal smooth skin, wet and smeared with visible blood, fangs shrunk back, and ears flattened and became smaller.
The huge mass of a creature began to slowly shrivel, until all that remained in his arms could no longer pass off as an animal. No, this was laughably, astonishingly, human.
Jimin raised a hand inquisitively, running it through the strands of hair that were now free from the matting of fur, his hand coming back red.
“She’s…”
“Back to normal…or rather what she would’ve grown up to be; that’s about as normal as I can make her.” The Wizard snorted at his own joke.
“Is…your highness,” Jimin turned to see that there were people in the grotto, no longer just objects.
A tall tanned man stood foremost, dimples poking out as a wondrous smile lit up his face, hands running over his suit. “I…I’m a man again!”
“Or how much you were before,” Another spoke, taller than the first, golden hair falling into his eyes.
“Gentlemen, calm down!” A shorter man barked.
These were strangers to Jimin, or maybe not. He looked back up at the Wizard, ignoring the joyous reunions behind him. “She’s…still dead.”
“Yes, but then, the way to bring her back to life is with you, isn’t it?”
Jimin was about to ask what he meant when he remembered the vial. The vial full of the pool water, that Y/N had said had healing abilities.
He delved deep, bringing out the mercifully intact vial before upending it completely into Y/N’s open mouth.
He waited, with bated breath as moments passed. And then – skin knitted back together, the grey pallor of her face smoothed till a healthy glow seeped in her cheeks.
With a huge shaky breath, Y/N opened her eyes again, fumbling with her body as if it scratched at her.
“Y/N, hey, Y/N,” Jimin grabbed her hands, much smaller and claw less, fitting into his easily.
Big, wide, fearful eyes met Jimin’s. “J-Jimin?”
“Yes, it’s me.” Jimin placed his head against hers, taking in a deep inhale that wasn’t of musk but of bloodied skin, of sorrow, or uncertainty. Closing his eyes and hoping for the best, Jimin turned his head to place his lips swiftly on yours.
There was no reciprocation at first, worrying Jimin that perhaps, he’d pushed you too far too fast. However, he felt your small hand move past his neck into his hair, entwining with the strands to hold him against you.
He moved away from your face, reminding himself that you still needed time and space to learn physical love when your eyes, now bright with unshed tears landed on something behind him.
It took him a bit to register the utter silence, hushed conversation behind him and he turned to see that the huge statues that used to be the only decorations in the grotto were no longer there, instead right behind him stood a couple, too familiar.
“Mama! Daddy!”
Y/N fled Jimin’s arms, instead throwing herself into her parent’s arms. Jimin fell back from the impact; quickly picking himself up to see the pair wrap their tight arms around their daughter, tears streaking through dirty, muddied faces.
The man was tall, his wife regal as they still retained the glow of youth, having spent their lives inanimate. Their daughter may have grown in front of their eyes but there was near to no difference in ages, Jimin noticed. He turned his head, but the Wizard and his pack of wolves were long gone.
Y/N shirt and pants were also now tattered, too huge on her now smaller body. Jimin tugged off his coat, wrapping it delicately around her shoulders when a hand stopped him from moving away. He looked at the queen, small crown still perched into her mussed hair who smiled at him.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, tugging him closer till he was hugging Y/N from the back as well, and Jimin couldn’t be more grateful at the gesture.
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The moments, hell, the days after the…incident, or rather your birthday had been all muddles and stumbling through time. As a cursed monster, time had seemed to stretch, with you craving love and companionship simply because you’d been told that they would break your curse. The very notion of these emotions had become a means to an end.
You had so much to learn, you realized when you stepped back into a castle that had no broken ceilings, no gaping holes, no smears of dirt and growing moss. The stones gleamed, jewels sparkled, sculptures loomed, just as they had in your distant memories.
Everyone stared, even the members of your household who had lived with you forever. You supposed you weren’t the only ones in need of reacclimatizing.
Chamber maids and maids in waiting dragged you and your mother away almost immediately. You were washed, scrubbed, hair oiled and washed and scented, similar to the ball but only this time the gown they put you in felt too big, too airy for you. Your skin, used to being protected by masses of fur and hard muscles shuddered at the gauzes and weightlessness of your new things.
Mirrors and portraits, previously smashed or torn by your claws had been reinstated and you had spent hours just staring at the unfamiliar face in the reflection. You weren’t a child anymore; you weren’t the beast you were used to seeing in cracks of glass and shards of mirrors. You had grown into a young maiden and you had no idea who you were.
The resurgence of a bustling royal palace, with many of the staff setting out to locate their families had created a buzz. Kai, the hunter had been dragged away and Hyebin, his sister as Jimin told you had been tried for conspiracy for murder.
Of course, things hadn’t become hunky dory fast. Things still needed to be sorted out, a monarchy had to be established because the so called government that had put Kai in charge in the first place was found now corrupt, seeing how easy it had been to rile up the public on the word of one man with no proof at all.
You left your father to handle these matters. Your mother had something much more stressful for you to think about.
Whether or not you wanted to marry Park Jimin…
You knew he was in the palace somewhere, along with his father. He’d come seen you but there hadn’t been much conversation. You had been too unsure of your own self, of your new or rather old body and you wondered if Jimin liked you as a human as much as he had when you were a creature.
“Don’t be silly,” Jimin had said, once on a slow walk around the garden. Your steps were much slower now, smaller feet tended to do that but none of you were in a hurry. It seemed Jimin was as eager to know the new you as you were. “I loved you when you were covered in fur and I love you now, even though I must say I was hoping to introduce a few of my friends to my beastly fiancée.” You had smacked his arm, unsettled at the joke even though he wrapped his arms around your waist.
“Don’t worry so much about this. The curse is past. No one and I mean it, will ever hurt you now. They’ll have to go through me.”
The burning sincerity in his eyes and voice left no room for you to argue or doubt.
And so, you shyly visited your parents that very evening, hand looped in your lover’s, asking for their blessing to marry him.
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Your engagement to Jimin lasted longer than any a royal was supposed to have, stretching out for months as you relearned human life. You were taught to walk properly on two legs, carrying things with a tiara affixed to your hair. For days you would bat at your hair when the pins keeping it in place pinched or pulled at you.
You learned how to dress yourself, how to put on various forms of jewelry, how to take baths and resumed your studies and royal duties.
Suffice it to say, you were now missing your animalistic life at times, you were so exhausted.
However, Jimin was a constant, learning with you, talking you through the harder aspects, supportive, encouraging, and absolutely perfect. It was also getting hard to keep your hands to yourself when it came to your private moments.
Physical love was one aspect that you absolutely dreaded touching upon. You wondered if you would be good enough, if Jimin would find pleasure in you or if you would find pleasure in him. He did place chaste kisses against your skin and lips when he thought it was okay to do so and you had only found him losing control once. It had been late at night when he visited you and had read to you till you were drowsy. With only a mind to gently kiss you goodnight, he had leant in only to be trapped by your hands, trying to get as close as you could to him.
He’d gripped at you, trying to pry out of your touch but had melted fast, molding and pressing you to your mattress. You had felt him growing aroused against your pelvic bone, rutting against you, gasping when he pulled away, blinking and shaking hair out of his eyes.
“Now now, love, we have time.” He’d pecked your cheek, disentangling himself from you before almost limping out.
Soon enough, it was time for the main event of your life.
Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jungkook returned in days time, bringing what was left or added to their families and they stayed on till after your wedding took place.
Jungkook had mellowed in the face of his parents being alive, fifteen years older of course but delighted to have him back. He’d wished you well, but not apologized for his earlier behavior – you didn’t expect him to either.
Your parents had gone above and beyond for the wedding, throwing the lavish event for the entire town and further to come attend. Your gown was created for weeks, Hoseok personally supervising the process so that when you walked down the altar finally, upon your teary eyed father’s arm; you erased all thoughts that you had been a monster for most of your life prior.
You left the palace for your honeymoon, following Jimin’s advice to leave the royal duties to your still young and hearty parents while you took some time with your husband, so you could acquaint yourself both to him and to the world that he wanted to show you.
You knew where to start the journey of course, with your groom’s lips twitching at the very first words that tumbled out during the ceremonial dance.
“Please,” you’d whispered, laying your head close to his heart.
“Anything for you, darling,” Jimin had whispered back, smile obvious in his voice. “Paris it is.”
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Jimin might not ever get used to the feeling of you fitting into his arms, you thought to yourself, glancing at your now husband, ever so often.
He’d lifted you up into his arms the moment you’d stepped off the carriage, beaming about something called the threshold ceremony, carrying you through the doors of the French villa carefully.
“Satisfied?” You asked when he stood still, eyeing the windows in contemplation.
“I’m wondering if I’m missing something but I can’t think of anything as of yet. So yes, here you go.” He placed you down, letting you walk through the house while he watched over the servants who carried through your luggage.
A late meal later, you stood at the mirror in the bedroom, painstakingly pulling out the multiple pins from the up-do your hair had been twisted in, your husband peeking in with a mischievous grin.
“Having fun?”
“No,” You grumbled, your arms dropping from the strain. Jimin walked up behind you, beginning to quickly pull out the multitudes of metal from your hair that would make a magnet drool. “Why are there so many?”
“Look on the bright side,” Jimin muttered, delving deeper into your scalp, “For the rest of our honeymoon, you could be completely free from all of this, until of course we have to go back.”
You glanced up at him quickly, seeing the darkening expression brooding on your husband’s face as he dropped the final pins on to the dresser.
“I was thinking.”
“Yes,” you squeaked out embarrassingly.
“Well, we’re all alone now, so we don’t have to be worried about anyone walking in on us.”
You turned around completely, confused. “That’s what you were worried about?”
“Of course,” his smile flickered. “What else would I be worried about?”
Your eyes fell, feeling all sorts of stupid now. “I just thought…maybe you didn’t…you know, feel that way about me now.”
A finger brushed under your chin, tilting your face back up. “Love, I married you.”
“Yes but,”
“Mm, but nothing, come on; let me show you what I feel for you.”
Jimin’s arms, much stronger than you had given him credit for swooped under your thighs, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist swiftly. As a monster, you had never given thought to how powerful Jimin really was, but now when you were human, much more fragile than you were used to, he was blatantly flaunting his strength.
You couldn’t fault him for that.
Your husband dropped you onto the centre of the massive bed, arms balancing his weight over you. “Are you okay about this? I don’t want to force you into anything that you’re uncomfortable with.”
“No,” you reached for him, winding arms around his neck. “I’m fine, I want to feel you. I want to learn this with you.”
Your eyes closed automatically when he kissed you, sweetly but strongly, tongue laving over your lips, slipping between with less to no battle from you. Your mouth parted easily for him, letting him plunder moans from you.
“Fuck,” Jimin breathed, pulling away before his eyes were widening. “Oh, I’ve never cursed like that before.”
His cheeks were so red, you couldn’t help but laugh. “No worries, I’ve never made someone curse like that before either.”
Jimin’s fingers trailed to the ties of your night shift. “Perhaps, we’re a bad influence upon one another.”
“Perhaps,” your breath caught in agreement, Jimin’s fingers pulling at a peaking nipple while his head lowered to suckle on the other. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, my darling wife,” his lips were curved wickedly when he resurfaced; sitting up to remove the cotton night shirt he wore and tugging off the gown from your body right after.
You lay naked under him, open for his perusal and taking. Your hand shifted up, trying to pull the sheets up to cover some of your modesty until Jimin caught up, taking your hands to place them right there.
“There,” His mouth opened, tongue rubbing over his swollen bottom lip. “Do you feel that? That’s what I feel for you. You don’t need to hide from me love, never ever. I have loved you before, I love you now and I will continue to love you more for all our days to come. Do you understand?”
You meekly nodded.
Jimin’s eyes flashed down your body, knees parting yours before his hand touched your bare core, running over the nub in circles. “Am I understood, love?”
“Yes-yes,” you gasped, neck falling back for him place kisses even as a finger slipped through inside of you, thick but gentle, stretching you just so.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” Jimin removed his hand, placing the digit in his mouth, eyes still firm between your legs. Normally the lecherous look on any man would have you burst with rage but Jimin had you nearly quivering in anticipation, especially when he finally pushed down his trousers.
You had never seen a cock before, never having any contact with a human male, but you had to say Jimin’s was an impressive specimen. Thick in girth and flushed a sensuous red, the head throbbed in need before he was guiding himself to your body.
“Ready, love, I need you to breathe with me.”
Jimin dropped low on you, lips tugging and pushing at yours, his spare hand clasping your breast to distract you as he pushed in. your knee bent, curving over his hip as you gasped, eyes watering at the sharp pinching sensation deep within you. Your husband halted, waiting for the expression of discomfort and pain to pass from your face, fingers brushing away any stray moisture from the corner of your eyes.
“I…I’m okay, please move.” You told him, Jimin studying you carefully before he drew back, thrusting in experimentally. The first drags of his hips, followed by the slow plunges still made you bite down your lips, screw up your eyelids before you found your rhythms.
Jimin ended up with his hand at your nub, rubbing it in gentle circles, lighting sparks in your nerves with the motion of his lovemaking, your nails digging into your lover’s back and shoulder, trying to get as close as possible.
The first jolt of climax nearly made you cry out, burying your face in his neck to muffle the sounds when he followed, heavy grunts falling unabashed from his lips, hands twining with the strands of your hair to seal your lips in a clumsy kiss as he spilled deep into you.
Rolling over, with your head safely clasped in the nook of his arm, Jimin sighed contentedly, warm hand against your back.
“Jimin,”
“Yes, love.”
“So…what happens now?”
Your husband turned his head to give you a sleepy grin.
“Now we’ll live happily ever after.”
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cluelesspigeons · 4 years ago
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Writerly ephemera
I didn’t even know this was a thing until the lovely @nv-md tagged me in her post where she shared little bits and pieces of her life she incorporated in her stories. It wasn’t even until today that I actually stopped to think I’ve done this too. Multiple times even. Here are some examples, though I’m sure there more:
Downhill
Harry, on the other hand, absolutely adored the hot weather. Despite the way he had been feeling over the last few months since the end of the war, summer always made him feel more alive and he found himself smiling more often.
Even now, as he was watching the outside world through the open window in the sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry relished in the warm breeze that brushed against his face, occasionally sipping his sweet Earl Grey tea. He could sit there for what felt like eternity.
This is from a WIP I started posting back in August? September? I absolutely love hot days in the summer. Most of my friends think I’m crazy but I rather be too hot than be too cold. And also, Earl Grey tea is my absolute favourite type of tea. It reoccurs in multiple of my fics.
As Tender Is The Moon, So Fierce Is The Sun
Raising a scolding eyebrow at the first part of what Teddy had said, Harry asked, “Did you read those forbidden books from Gran again?”
This is from a little Halloween fic. I remember when I was little (not that I’m very tall now) that I always read books I shouldn’t or watch scary videos on YouTube even though my mum clearly said I shouldn’t. It always ended up with me being too scared to go up the stairs alone cuz I thought there was a scary monster coming to get me.
Bloom
“Aaarrrgghh! Yes! Yes, Harry! They are supposed to bloom by now. But they aren’t doing it now, are they?!”
Whenever I’m frustrated cuz something’s not going the way I want it to and someone asks me a stupid question, this is the way I react. Most of the times. I just… explode? But then I cool down again and everything’s fine.
Androgynous
“Harry, love, you know I love you but… it’s three in the bloody morning. I have to wake up early for my shift at Mungo’s and you’re reading in that book again instead of cuddling with me.”
Little reference to me reading fics until the wee hours of the morning? Nah, don’t know what you’re talking about.
Better than fighting
“Dad!”
“No, Albus! Sshhttt! Don’t call Dad!”
“Daaadd!!”
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to happen! Now shush before we’ll get into trouble.”
“Dad! Scorpius has torn one of my books again!”
Perfect example of me and my brother fighting when we were younger. I’m pretty sure when you have siblings you know how this goes.
If you’re curious where this idea came from, you can find the original post from @the-starryknight here. This is absolutely such an amazing idea!! And I loved going through my fics and see little bits and pieces of myself in there.
I’m tagging some people too: @drarrymybeloved @hbee & @mxstyassasxin. Idk if you’ve already been tagged but there’s absolutely NO pressure in doing this :))
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theewildflowers · 4 years ago
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dramione fanfic recs
I’ve fallen into the Dramione fanfiction hole lately due to a friend’s recent obsession with Dramione and Draco Malfoy tik tok, so I wanted share some favorite stories I’ve read, especially with those who are also new to the pairing. Many of the fics below are pretty popular within the fandom, but maybe there will be something new as well for those who come across this post.
I’ve included the rating and word count in parenthesis, and the fics are set in the magical universe unless otherwise noted. Please mind the tags when you click through—many fics may have triggers. Happy reading!
wait and hope by mightbewriting (M, 95k) “Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?” Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events. “He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”
Part of the Wait and Hope story universe. Draco’s POV, Beginning and End, is a WIP. (I’ve read and reread Wait and Hope multiple times in a few weeks span, so it’s safe to say that it’s my favorite Dramione story universe.)
the politician’s wife by Pir8fancier (M, 66k) This story is set twenty-three years after the fall of Voldemort. Our main characters are Ministry employees, middle-aged, and the majority of them not very happy. (This was the first Dramione fic I’ve ever read and is still one of my favorites)
the right thing to do by LovesBitca8 (E, 176k) Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. Part of the Rights and Wrongs story universe (highly recommend Draco’s POV, All the Wrong Things, as well).
remain nameless by HeyJude19 (E, WIP) The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence.
seeker fit by selinyu and etlithien (T, 2.6k) “Will the Head Girl grace the pitch with her presence for today’s match?” The timbre of Malfoy’s cool lilting drawl slid down Hermione’s spine. I recommend all the fics in the SenLithien Dramione Collaboration collection.
breath mints / battle scars by Onyx_and_Elm (E, 148k) For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes.
apple pies and other amends by ToEatAPeach (M, 76k) It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing:  she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.
clean and marked by olivieblake (M, 118k and 178k) Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising." Basically a sixth year retelling.
the best of me by MrsRen (E, 148k) Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.
fortuitous by MrsRen (M, 93k) Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need.
bring him to his knees by Musyc (E, WIP) Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.
looking glass by kyonomiko (M, 99k) No one knows what happened to Draco Malfoy in the final battle, but, when his portrait shows up at Harry Potter's house, it's readily assumed he didn't make it. Hermione's perspective on the wizard starts to change as she learns more about who he really was. The more she knows, the more tragic his apparent demise seems to be.
isolation by bex-chan (E, 264k) He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!"
thirty-five by raven_maiden (M, 2.3k) It's Draco Malfoy's birthday, and you'd think he'd have some say in the matters concerning his birthday. Then again, the will of four other Malfoys is hard to overcome. Part of Meet the Malfoys collection.
apples & cream by LovesBitca8 (E, 1.4k) She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed.
universal truths by scullymurphy (E, 145k, pride & prejudice inspired AU) Hermione Granger is a woman of intelligence and spirit. Draco Malfoy is a man of wealth and privilege. When they meet again, a decade after the second great wizarding war—they are not impressed. But when circumstances throw them together, dislike turns to attraction, attraction turns to passion and passion may turn into something more... If they can stay out of their own way and let love take its course.
my brown-eyed girl by PacificRimbaud (M, 2k) "Give it up, Granger. We've had our N.E.W.T. results for a week. What can possibly have earned your continued academic devotion in the last four days of term?" Draco and Hermione have a lazy snuggle in the grass behind the Quidditch pitch.
bite marks by provactive_envy (E, 19.4k, muggle AU) Draco’s mouth falls open. He clutches his cookie and ignores the shower of crumbs littering his grey cashmere fingerless gloves. He can’t decide if he wants to fuck this girl or fight with her. Maybe both? Maybe at the same time?
thirteenth night by Nelpher (M, 78k) When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever.
familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8 (E, 7k) “You are at St. Mungo’s. You were in a coma.” He looks me over again, taking a pause. “I am a Healer here now,” he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I’ve thrown mud at him. Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, “What’s your name?”
bone mortar by mightbewriting (M, 10k, muggle AU) Draco clenched his teeth, forcing sharp, shallow breaths through his nose as he ripped open the door to his usual lecture hall only to find— someone at his desk. Well, he supposed it was technically less his desk and more the desk as he didn’t actually own this particular classroom. But since he’d taught in it for the last four semesters in a row he at least felt like he’d earned common law ownership of some sort.
of mongolian fireflies and russian sharpclaws by barnettdidit (T, 37k) As colleagues for the F.A.U.C.E.T. (Fetching And Uncovering Creatures Experiencing Terror) department, Draco and Hermione have had their fair share of arguments. When they face their hardest case yet, mixed with an odd swarm of fireflies that glow in the colour according to how they feel about each other, Hermione is struggling to keep a straight mind.
a muggle-born magic by Musyc (M, 50k, regency era AU) Physician's daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father's debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true' magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius' history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.
aurelian by BittyBlueEyes (T, 255k) Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.
malfoy shrugged by uselessenglishmajor (E, 11k) February 14th is just another day at the office for Hermione Granger. Shame no one else got the memo.
distance by In_Dreams (T, 138k) She’s a novice Unspeakable trying to earn her stripes. He’s a shafted Auror desperate to prove himself. When they end up forced together on a shared assignment, neither is willing to back down. But when the mission pulls them into an ancient world of mystery and adventure, they find themselves depending on each other in a race against time.
nonscents by In_Dreams (M, 10k) Granger's Amortentia smells like him and Draco can't understand why. More importantly, he can't let her figure it out.
correspondence by olivieblake (T, 5k) Every year, Draco insists that Hermione take a picture for their Christmas card. Why? Hell if she knows, but if it will make him happy, so be it.
sandalwood and gardenias by secondbutton (E, 9k) A balanced fragrance of sandalwood and something musky and earthy followed him like a shroud. Draco Malfoy smelled like a magical forest’s best kept secret. Like the moment following a storm when the sun peeks back over the clouds and living beings stop what they’re doing and pause to marvel at being able to roam outside again. It was a crisp top note with more robust undertones, and just a hint of sweetness. She thought she might love the scent if it lived on anyone else other than him.
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melisusthewee · 3 years ago
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WIP Wednesday - Let’s Talk Music
Thank you to @cleverblackcat @kittynomsdeplume @noire-pandora and @morganlefaye79 for tagging me!
I don’t have any writing to really offer today.  I’ve been trying to work on that Haven fic but unfortunately Aloysius hasn’t been co-operating with me despite all my best efforts to make him speak.  I may take a break from writing and pivot towards completing some art memes, but Wednesday just sort of crept up on me and here we are.  So instead, I’m sharing something that both is but also isn’t a work in progress?
It’s “in progress” because while I’m happy with where it currently is, I’ve said that about playlists and soundtracks before and later changed them.  I’ve worked hard on this and talked several friends’ ears off about songs I’ve heard or artists that seemed to work and thanks to their feedback I think this is a really good one.  It’s gone through several edits as well, and may potentially even go through more down the road.  So I’m saying this counts for today.
If you give it a listen (and I hope you do because I’m very proud of it so far), I hope you enjoy it and maybe discover an artist you didn’t know before.  It clocks in at around 51 minutes and features 13 tracks which span Quinn Trevelyan’s story and important events of the main game through to Trespasser.
If you are interested, below the cut is a list of tracks and a brief blurb or description about who or what they’re meant to represent.  I was going to go into things in more depth and talk about how I built it, why I picked the songs I did, and the B-Sides that were left on the cutting room floor, but after realizing I had written nearly 4 pages about just as many songs, I realized it was too much for anyone to read.  So below is just a very brief summary and I think that most of the music would speak for itself, but I’m happy to expand more on anything that anyone finds either interesting… or confusing.  (There is also Solas content because I knew a few of you love that.)
You have to click on this sentence to go to the playlist because Tumblr’s coding for “Read More” seems to be conflicting with the HTML code to embed a functional playlist.  Because of course it is.
Quinn’s tarot card is the Wheel of Fortune as his story is a series of unpredictable highs and lows.  What the Maker giveth, He also taketh away.  The playlist follows that trend of highs and lows with upbeat songs followed by darker or more mellow ones.  Whenever I create a playlist, I try to think of a general tone or sound that I want to be carried through the soundtrack.  I want the overall genre or sound to tell the story as much as the individual songs.  Because of that, you’ll see artists repeat a couple of times, and when they do it’s always intentional.  You’ll also notice that most of the vocalists are male.  This was again intentional because this is Quinn’s story, and he’s a man.  They are his songs and I wanted the vocals to reflect that.
The Cult of Dionysus - pre-Conclave Quinn
Quinn at his most basic and stereotypical before any character development happens whatsoever - poppish, upbeat, and maybe just a little obnoxious.  He smokes, he drinks, he fucks, and nothing else matters.
The Sound of Silence - Aloysius’ Theme
I like Aloysius as a more practical view and examination of Quinn and the cult that grows around him.  He affords an opportunity to look at Quinn both as the Herald but also as just a person.  He is stoic and mild-mannered, a dutiful soldier, and an excellent foil for Quinn.  This is also absolutely a reference to an Arrested Development joke.
Isle of Dogs - Quinn’s true theme
Quinn is a walking disaster constantly falling victim to his own hubris.  There’s a morose sort of resentment to the lyrics, of someone who is constantly struggling against the tide.  In a lot of ways, this is basically a reaction or push back to all the crap I have put him through.
Providence - “In Hushed Whispers”
There are no Templars here.  The first few lines relate a lot to the dismissal the fledgling Inquisition receives from what remains of the Chantry, but the rest of the lyrics are very much about the mages and Fiona’s dealings with the Venatori.
Seven Devils - “In Your Heart Shall Burn
No male vocals in this one to symbolize the change in perspective.  This is both a bit of an easy and obvious choice for this story beat.  Female vocals for Corypheus might seem strange, but when I created my Warden’s soundtrack I tended to use powerful choruses and female vocals for anything related to Blight, Archdemons, or the darkspawn.  I carried that idea over to this as Corypheus is one of the seven Magisters.
Caesar - becoming the Inquisitor
This is a softer and quiet interlude in the wake of the loss of Haven and struggle through the snow.  If the previous song marks the end of the first act, this song marks the beginning of the second.
King - “Here Lies the Abyss”
In my written world state, Alistair is both the king and the Grey Warden contact (this goes back to that longform fic I am working on).  I suppose it’s a bit unfair because in the end that has a major impact on why Quinn makes the decision he does at Adamant (a rather threatening letter from the Warden helps too).  Think of this as a duet between Quinn and Hawke.
My Type - the love interest
“Here Lies the Abyss” was completed first, then a romance triggered, then “Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts”.  This is that sort of inbetween interlude and is very much inspired by how I may have flirted with multiple characters a little too much and basically triggered several romances at once.  I also went into Quinn’s playthrough having no idea who I was going to romance and just let him shop around.  And it came down to a coin flip in the end, so “you have a pulse and you are breathing” is pretty much the only standards he has.
Boheme Supreme - party at Halamshiral
All I have to say is that I love techno swing, every single lyric in this song is perfect, and I want you all to picture Quinn Trevelyan walking into the Winter Palace with his Inner Circle entourage around him, dressed up in that outfit I drew with that peacock feathered cap and having a drink in his hand throughout the entire night’s affair.
Hell’s Coming With Me - “Doom Upon All the World”
This is the climax of the main game, the rematch between Quinn and Corypheus which I have to imagine is more impressive in concept than it was in game.  I chose the dialogue option when Corypheus calls Quinn an imposter, “I am the Maker’s chosen” as his final challenge.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget that this main is actually very Andrastian.  But he is, and the lyrics, “I am the righteous hand of God/And I am the Devil that you forgot/And I told you one day will see/I’ll be back I guarantee/And that Hell’s coming with me” are the perfect declaration.
Paradise - Jaws of Hakkon & The Descent
Another interlude song.  If the previous one is triumphant than this one is the beginning of a bad turn.  In the interim between the events of the main game and the Exalted Council, things begin to go wrong in little ways.  His relationship with Cassandra begins to break down, eventually ending in the two of them having frequent spats and going their separate ways after returning from the Frostback Basin.  This song is deceptively sarcastic about how good things are.
I Still Love You, Judas - Solas’ Betrayal
Solas… oh, Solas.  Does this song indicate a very complicated and layered relationship between Quinn and Solas?  Yes! Have I attempted to unpack any of this?  Nope!  Have fun with this one!
Tagging for this week: @kita-lavellan @silvanils @nivenor-krosis @drag-on-age @rosella-writes @inquisitoracorn
Battle Cries - Quinn and Cassandra
I saved this one for the very end because it is a story within a story.  It is sad and bittersweet, but also not.  This entire thing feels to me like a duet between Quinn and Cass on what was good, what could never last, and that it’s all over now but that’s okay.  Because “this isn’t a breakup, dear heart, it’s a season finale.”  Does this mean that Quinn sounds like Joey Batey when he sings?  Sure, why not.
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