#Wait does that fit the twice your age + 7?

[neon-vocalist]

Everything Cheri does is so damn entertaining. I love her fr

[for-a-longlongtime]

Guilty Pleasure (2/7) - dbf!Joel x reader

After having gotten yourself off twice to the thought of Joel, your paths cross again in the kitchen. Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, mdni Series warnings (tba): Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 42), masturbation (f), use of sex toys, oral sex, PiV, anal, hair pulling, dirty talk, getting caught, playful use of 'daddy', outrageous flirting, groping, reference to m/m, Joel's arms should always come with a warning. No outbreak!AU. Word count: 2.6K A/N: Thank you to everybody who commented on and/or shared part 1! It's quite a trip writing this, but I appreciate the support so much. Part II took a little longer to post due to circumstances, I promise you that part III will follow a little quicker.

< part 1 | series masterlist | main masterlist

“... it’s a responsibility we don’t take lightly. We’ve made a commitment to not just look after the citizens of Texas, but far beyond that. In our work as…”

You roll your eyes at the sound of your father’s voice coming from the tv. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you mutter as you head into the kitchen, already feeling exasperated about hearing him a lot more often than you’d like to. “Does that need to be on?” You brush past Joel who is leaning against the kitchen island, his eyes on the large tv screen on the living room wall, who seemingly is a lot more interested than you are in what is being said.

The urge to touch him, or pretend to bump into him and feel his body is more than just tempting. Even passing this close is enough to smell a whiff of his cologne again, the scent making your nipples hard as you think about the welcome hug you got from him earlier. Frankly, it’s challenging enough already to not blush in front of him right now. 

It was barely five minutes ago that you were fucking your own hand, coming hard while thinking of Joel eating you out to then rail you into your mattress until you were gasping his name. You may not know yet just how big he is - but something tells you that nothing on this man is small. Not those broad shoulders, or those large hands, and definitely not his cock. You can’t wait to discover that by yourself some time soon.

So you try to distract yourself for now, pretend that you don’t feel flushed by this man who made you weak in the knees from the moment you saw him - perhaps really saw him for the first time ever in your life. You nod at the tv, irritation already creeping under your skin as you watch your father speak during the televised press conference. “Blablabla. C-SPAN would be more riveting than this crap.”

Joel scoffs for a moment, turning to look at you questioningly and perhaps somewhat surprised. Raising his eyebrow like that truly shouldn’t be so attractive, nor should his lips look so plush and tempting when he speaks to you. “What? He’s doing good work.”

“Work?” You imitate his scoff from earlier, which amuses him apparently, judging by the smile in his eyes. “He’s just standing in front of a camera in an ill-fitting suit to say some meaningless words.” 

Joel glances back at the tv. “Pretty sure that’s tailored, actually,” he says as he meets your eyes again, and the smile you saw earlier is now a proper smirk, tugging at his lips.

“It’s still - jeez, not the fucking point, Joel.” You shake your head as you grab a glass from one of the cabinets, making sure to reach for one on a higher shelf that requires you to put in some effort. You know that your skirt is probably riding up your legs, giving him something to look at, and you wonder whether he’s an ass or tits kind of guy. But did that really matter in the end? Any guy his age would gladly take a good look at any part of you, so you’ll make sure to give him plenty to look at. “Want some water?”

You notice how it takes Joel a moment to respond, and you smile to yourself when you hear him clear his throat before he speaks. “I’m good, thank you.” The hoarseness in his voice that wasn’t there a moment ago almost makes you giggle, and you’re pleased that he definitely seems to like that skirt on you. “Y’know, should probably cut him some slack,” Joel continues. “I’ve known your dad for a long time. He’s always worked hard. For you and your mom, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s a real fucking hero,” you sigh as you fill your glass with ice water. The last thing you want to talk about is the man whose absence is always just as noticeable as his presence. But you do want Joel to keep talking, to get to know him more. Not to mention the way his voice is sexy as hell. 

“How long have you known each other anyway?” You hop on one of the barstool at the kitchen island, making sure to sway your legs just enough that he may notice it. His eyes quickly flick over your body, absolutely lingering on your legs and skirt - and this time you can’t help but smile, because that’s the second time he’s checked you out. “I don’t think I remember, just that you were around a lot. And that you have a brother.”

Joel tilts his head, thinking it over as he studies you for a moment. “Quite some time,” he then says, a smile playing over his lips. “Over twenty years, before he even met your mom. There was a period we didn’t see much of each other because he was so busy with everything - work, life, and you were born.” You’ve seen pictures of both your parents from that time, of course, but none with Joel as far as you remember - there also aren’t any from back then on the large photo wall at the stairs.

“Got back in touch when you were about four. You were…” Joel’s laugh pulls you out of your thoughts, and he shakes his head. “A bossy little thing. Pigtails and that stuff. Following your dad all around the house and his office whenever you got to join him there. Saying you wanted to work there, too. It was cute.”

“Over my dead body would I ever work there.” But it’s not as snarky as it normally would be, because goddamn - that smile of his is really doing something to you, making you weak in the knees and more mellow than you prefer to be. “Tell him that if it ever comes up.”

“Yes, ma’am. ” He gives you a mock salute. “See? I told you. Bossy back then and it never went away.” He pauses when you reach into your glass of ice water, pulling out an ice cube with your fingers and then bringing it to your lips so you can suck on the refreshment. Yes, you know you’ve dripped water over your top with that - and that you’re being rather slutty with that ice cube. You’re also really hoping that move will work. “But look at you now,” Joel says almost absentmindedly, eyes watching you closely as you part your lips and slip the piece of ice into your mouth.

“Yeap, still bossy. And look at me now indeed.” You try to ignore the fluttering feeling inside of you that squeals with excitement about him having such clear memories of you, even if you only were a kid back then. Not to mention the ‘look at you now’ comment that made other parts of you respond with even more enthusiasm. You crush the last bit of the ice cube, chewing on it as you let your glance slowly travel over him, once again admiring the outfit as you did earlier. 

The worn out jeans, the shirt that just might be a size too small - either deliberately, or because he’d bulked up -, and messy hair, which you hadn’t really noticed before, but now couldn’t keep your eyes off the few curls that clung to the back of his slightly sweaty neck. It’s then that you realize that he’s letting you look freely - maybe not exactly inviting it, but not shying away from it either as he clearly doesn’t seem to mind the attention. 

“Well, maybe you should see me in pigtails now,” you say as you use your best innocent voice, brushing some imaginary dust off your shirt. It works, because his eye is drawn to the movement almost immediately, even though he tries to not show it. So you take the opportunity to tug a little at the fabric, adjust the top on you, and make sure he’s got a good view of your cleavage. “Less cute. But definitely… hot.” 

You bite your lip and smile when you see his eyes widen slightly, and you can’t help but wonder if that’s something he’d be into. Your hair in pigtails and a short little skirt paired with a top that would clearly show your tits. Or maybe a lacy bra, no shirt. Your ex sure had gone nuts for it, and even wanted you to call him daddy, which you did. But there’s not much about a 22 year old boy that makes him actually feel like a daddy dom, not even if he spanks you good. Now Joel, on the other hand…

You look up when you’re interrupted by your mom entering the kitchen. “There you are, honey!” she says happily as she wraps you up in a hug, and you have to force a smile on your face to greet her with similar enthusiasm - even though you’re seething about being interrupted, just when it felt like you were getting somewhere. But it is nice to see her again, you can’t deny that. Your mom was plenty busy with her job on most days, but the major difference with your father was that she always found a way to make some time for you. Her working from a home office instead of being stuck at some firm certainly helped with that, too.

“I’m sorry that I’m so sweaty, I just got back from the gym,” she explains while grabbed a bottle of water for herself, offering one to Joel as well. He dismisses it with a slight shake of his head, grown noticeably quiet since she entered the kitchen, but the look in his eyes almost makes you shiver. Especially when his eyes meet yours, only to quickly look away again. 

Yeah, Joel is absolutely into this. But it’s no surprise that he doesn’t want to let on anything around your mom - it would not go over well. You try to hide your smile as you consider what would happen if you’d get caught with him. The way your father’s head would explode, his facade perhaps crumbling at last. That alone would already be worth the effort of getting into Joel’s pants. 

“... and I got you those mango popsicles you love. Hey. Sweetheart?” Your mom’s voice interrupts your thoughts as she hands you a popsicle, pressing one into Joel’s hand as well. He shakes his head as he tries to hand it back to her, but she won’t have any of it. “Oh c’mon Joel, give them a try. You’ll love them too,” she insists, waving away his hand as he tries to protest. “Alright, I’m gonna go shower and take a power nap before my meetings. I finish at six tonight and maybe we can get some dinner?”

“Sure, six is great, thanks mom,” you say absentmindedly, sucking on the cool treat as you lean back against the counter - it’s delicious and perfect in this summer heat. You wait until she’s left the room, then bring your eyes back to Joel. “What was it we were talking about?”, you ask him in a flirty tone of voice, then take a long, slow lick of your popsicle. “Oh, God. Joel. This is so good. Really hits the spot…”

You see his jaw clench for a moment, his eyes following your every move, but he then shrugs as he bites a piece off his treat. “ ‘s okay. Not my favorite,” he says after a moment.

You give him your brightest smile, as you once again lick your popsicle, this time also catches a spilled drop or two that had dropped on your finger. “Oh don't be ridiculous, Andrea. Everybody wants this,” you sigh, this time holding his eyes as you suckle on the fruity ice some more, and you see the confusion creep onto his face.

“The- what? Who?”

You can’t help but giggle at his confused face. “Fuck me, you really are old,” you tease him. “Miranda Priestly? The meme? Devil Wears Prada?”

“Don’t know what any of that means, darling. Sorry.” For a moment he looks awkward, flustered even, as he slips the rest of his popsicle back into the wrapper and pushes it aside. You can’t help but be disappointed - it would’ve been a pretty sight to watch him eat it all the way, even if he did it in that gruff manner. What kind of psycho bites into a frozen fruit bar? 

Applause sounds loudly from the tv, and closeups of people - including your father - shaking hands with each other fill the screen. Joel’s eyes slide back to the tv for a moment, and you can almost hear him thinking, trying to find a way to change the topic - a reason for him to not look at you licking the fruity treat. 

“We were talking about your dad’s work.”

“Mmhmm. Screw that. Like I said, it’s bullshit.” You suck on the tip of your popsicle, mentally willing him to look back at you. “Him, and the others too. I don’t like those boys in suits or corporate gigs,” you offer, thinking back of your ex and several of the guys in your classes this past semester. Too clean. Too proper. No, what you want is exactly what you had seen on Joel’s Instagram. A big strong guy like him, sweaty and dirty and intensely focused - you just knew that he’d be that same way when fucking you. That glorious collection of unfiltered videos and photos for his business had gotten you wet right away and you would definitely revisit them later to masturbate to again.

“I like *real men* who work with their hands, you know?” you continue. “Not afraid to get dirty while laying some pipe.” Almost as if on cue, you hear water running through the pipes somewhere above you, indicating that your mom got into the shower, and you try not to laugh at how that coincides with your words.

Joel’s jaw clenches again as you take another slow lick of your mango treat, your eyes still locked onto him. He shakes his head as he reaches for the remote and turns off the tv, blissfully removing your father’s voice from the room. “Your dad actually is good with his hands. Y’don’t even know,” he says as he picks up his mostly uneaten popsicle, throwing it into the trash bin. “I know you’re pissed at him, but-...”

“I’m not pissed at him,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even stop them, your voice so sharp that even Joel looks surprised. “I mean, I don’t even care about what he does,” you try to recover, dialing it down. “Why would I? It’s not like he’s ever even home.” 

“Alright, darling. Whatever you say.” Joel gives you an amused look as he washes his hands, then dries them on a towel. “I’ve gotta get ready to head out and meet Tommy, so I’ll see you later. Welcome home to Austin.”

You watch Joel leave the room and head upstairs, and you sigh as you throw out the wooden stick of the popsicle you devoured. “Whatever you say, darling. I’ll fucking show him”, you repeat his words mockingly, rolling your eyes as you grab your phone to text your friend. 

“Got cock blocked earlier by mom. He’s totally into me, just seems scared. Will try again later,” you write, then fill up a whiskey glass with ice before you wander over to the liquor cabinet.

Time for that drink now.

next: part 3 >

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[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[valeriianz]

Dreamling Week June 7: 'Fake Dating' | human au

This was a mistake.

Dream sits outside the fitting room, back against a mirror as he waits for Hob to come out and show him his next choice. They were going to a wedding together, which in itself was fine, but the context behind it…

Dream should have said no. Should have scathingly told Hob to grow a pair and just deal with his family’s judgment. It wasn’t a bad thing to be single, but apparently in Hob’s family, being single at 35 years old, and for the past nine years, was a problem. 

Dream had often wondered how Hob had remained single for such a long time, he knew his friend was a catch. Charismatic, wicked smart, and roguishly handsome to boot. Dream couldn’t deny how he’d often catch himself staring at Hob, looking twice at him when they went out with friends, his smile wide and posture loose from a couple drinks. Or while Dream would help him build lesson plans, peeking sideways as Hob’s glasses began to slip down his nose and his hair would fall in his face. 

Or while he was trying on suits for his cousin’s wedding. Where they would be attending as a couple.

“Hob…” Dream had given him a flat look, controlling his features into something unreadable while his heart threatened to burst from his chest. “This is absurd. Could we not attend as we are– as friends?”

“That’s the easiest part!” Hob’s eyes were wide and imploring. “We’re already friends! They won’t even question it.”

And then he’d gone on a tirade that Dream was quite familiar with, having been Hob’s friend for so long, about how his family had moved on from being subtle to outright dogging Hob about his love life. Why hadn’t he settled down yet? Who was going to continue the Gadling name, if not their only son? At your age… With your talents and charms… Such a waste… on and on and Hob, understandably, was sick of it.

Any further complaints had died on Dream’s tongue. He should have tried harder to convince Hob that this was a stupid idea. That his family’s opinion didn’t matter. That Hob should keep living as he had been in spite of it all. Because honestly, in what universe could this possibly work? How does this not end with Dream vulnerable and weak and wanting?

Because Dream was head over heels obsessed with Hob. No, he wouldn’t say the L word. It wasn’t like that. He knew better than to fall into that trap again. It was easier, somehow, to be a little more deranged about it. A little unhinged… delusional.

Especially as he watched Hob walk out of the little changing room for the third time now, eyes stuck on the jacket around Hob’s shoulders, broad and strong, accentuating the lines of his arms and back, cinched slightly at the waist. His thoughts tripping and staggering as Hob’s long legs move to a full length mirror across from Dream, unashamedly staring at Hob’s thighs, firm and thick, and up to his ass, which the dark blue slacks hugged so well. 

Hob is pulling on the collar, turning this way and that, oblivious to the war raging inside of Dream.

“I don’t know about this one…” Hob is murmuring, tugging now on end of the sleeves. “Not sure if blue is my color.”

Blue is absolutely Hob’s color. Dream wants to say how fetching it looks against Hob’s golden brown skin, how it makes him look regal yet soft. How great it would look on the floor of the hotel room they would be staying at– oh fuck, Dream had forgotten about that. They’d be sharing a room.

Dream stood just as Hob kicked a leg out, looking down.

“And the pants are too long.”

“We can get that hemmed,” Dream kept his face impassive as he stepped up behind Hob, briefly meeting his eyes in the mirror before looking at the jacket.

He brushed his hands across Hobs shoulders, dusting off invisible lint, then down his back, straightening out invisible wrinkles. Before looking up again at the floor length mirror across from them.

They are nearly of height, Dream has maybe half an inch on Hob and can see how he stands behind Hob in the reflection. Can see how Hob has stilled and his eyes locked onto his. How he is staring back at Hob, his pupils shaking slightly, like he’s staring at something delicious. Dream swallows, letting his imagination wander.

He thinks about pressing up against Hob’s back, so his groin would slip comfortably against that perfectly round ass, how it might feel to get his hands on Hob’s waist, pulling so he could feel the way Hob’s shoulders fit atop Dream’s chest.

How Dream’s hands would slip around to Hob’s front, getting his fingers inside the fitted jacket and pressing them incessantly– intentionally, along the soft cotton of the white button down, how Hob’s skin might feel against it. How Dream’s hands would trail up to his chest, undoing those buttons as he went, revealing the thick dark hairs there and getting briefly distracted enough to comb his fingers through that mane, tilting his head to growl in Hob’s ear as he tightened his fingers and pulled just to hear what noise Hob would make in return. 

And while Dream’s lips were at Hob’s ear, he’d trail them down to his neck, biting into the unmarked flesh, tasting the salt and aftershave with his tongue, peppering kisses even lower as he pulled the fabric of the shirt and jacket off his shoulders completely and imagining the eager, wanton grown that would tumble from Hob’s lips as he tilted his head back, getting his own hand around the back of Dream’s head to pull him in for a sloppy kiss–

Dream blinked and found himself still standing behind Hob, who was fully dressed and looking back at him and– was he breathing heavy?

The daydream only lasted a second, just a flash of a fantasy Dream indulged in, but now he wonders if he’d been too obvious. He’s staring back at Hob, pupils dilated and lips parted slightly, like a panting dog about to pounce.

Dream clears his throat and looks down the length of the mirror, accidentally settling them on the seat of Hob’s pants and distractedly averting his gaze again to Hob’s back, the dark blue fabric before him.

“You look good, Hob.” Dream manages to force the words out, his voice lower than usual, hungry. “I think this is the one.”

“Yeah.” Why does Hob sound breathless? “Yeah I like this one.”

Dream nods and forces every cell in his body to step back, away from Hob and allow him to turn back to the fitting room. He keeps his gaze down, waiting until Hob is conveniently out of sight before he allows the heat he can feel crawling up his neck to make its way to his face.

[for @watercubebee and our shared obsession with seeing Hob in nice clothes and wanting Dream to tear them off of him *handshake*]

[yoursleepingbaby]

How to Encourage Independent Play | Sleep Training Tips

One of my absolute FAVORITE activities that I incorporated into my kid’s day when they were young was what I called playpen time. I was taught this by a friend that at the time had 8 children of her own. Yes, I said EIGHT. And not just 8 kids, but 8 WELL BEHAVED, GENUINELY HAPPY, OBEDIENT children! It was amazing to be around her and watch how she interacted with her kids and how they responded to her. From the oldest to the youngest they were all enjoyable kids to be around. Which, if you’ve had a child for any length of time you know this doesn’t happen by accident! So I knew that basically whatever she was doing could be replicated, (8 kids gives you a ton of credibility!) For me, this meant that anytime she talked, I made sure to listen. After all, who doesn’t want enjoyable, happy, obedient children? Like the kind that are enjoyable to OTHERS and not just you. But more on that later…

What playpen time really was, was a way to encourage independent play, increase attention span and provide a safe place to play while I was able to get some things done. I used that time to shower, cook dinner, make phone calls, tidy the house, nurse the baby etc. It ended up being something that served me well for MANY years. Because play pen time turned into room time as my kids got older. I wasn’t willing to give it up just because they no longer fit into a playpen!

Playpen time is a time that you set aside each day, (or twice a day) where you are placing your baby or toddler into a small contained area to play independently. You can use a playpen, play yard, pack n play, gated room that is small and safe or a crib. Here are a couple of my favorite play yards https://amzn.to/3lSdeiw, and this one https://amzn.to/3LN4tRv

You put a few toys (around 2–4) into the playpen or small play space. Too many toys overwhelms kids and they are more content and will play longer with less. Then you turn on some fun music and set the timer (here’s a favorite https://amzn.to/3lKfmsX and walk away. (Using a timer is super helpful, especially if you are starting with an older baby or toddler). You can walk in and out of your child’s sight. Don’t feel like you need to be OUT of the room the entire time. Or IN the room the entire time. Your child will learn to accept you coming and going.

If you are starting with an older child (one who is already mobile) start with 5–7 min about 3–4x per day and then increase by a few min every few days. The goal is to work up to 45 min- 1 hr. of playpen time 1–2x a day. This may take some time based on the age and disposition of your child. Remember you’re starting with a small amount of time.

So, any crying that happens will only last for a few min. And remember to wait to get your child out until AFTER the timer goes off. Your child will learn to understand that it’s the timer that signals when playpen time is over. You will see after 2–3 days your child will learn that this is a safe, fun place for him to play and will learn to love this time to sit and play uninterrupted. The protesting will stop and the playing, learning, and growing will begin!

When you initially start, if your child does protest for the entire 5–7 min. This won’t happen if you start BEFORE your child is mobile. Make sure you use a timer and that your energy is positive and upbeat when you go to take him out. You should have a smile on your face and say something like “play pen time is over, you did such a great job!” Then turn off the music (the timer will have already gone off) and scoop him out and continue on with your day. Don’t give any energy, attention or emotion to the fact that he was protesting for a few minutes. That will go away within a few days.

You can also have a bucket within the play pen and teach your child to clean up his toys when he is done. This will be super easy as there will only be a few toys to put in the bucket. If your child is too young to help clean up, do it for him but talk about what you’re doing as you’re doing it. Then as he gets older, cleaning up his toys will already have been introduced to him as a normal part of the playtime routine.

The best time to start is when your child is young and is not yet mobile. It may seem odd to place your baby in a playpen or play yard when they are very young, but by doing this you will be teaching him that this is a normal part of his day. Then once he becomes mobile this will be extremely helpful, as playing in the play pen and being contained, will already be a NORMAL part of his day. Then there will be no need to protest. This can also be helpful when you have a newborn and a toddler in the house. Because sometimes keeping the newborn safe from the toddler is a necessity.

First, it teaches your child to learn to play by himself. It also teaches them to focus on one thing at a time, for an extended period of time. This is SO GOOD for our kiddos brains as they learn and explore with no interruptions. This is why we only give a few toys rather than lots of toys. It increases their attention spans little by little and teaches them that they CAN entertain themselves.

It also teaches kiddos to be CONTENT being contained. This is a VERY valuable skill to learn. If you are a mom of an older baby or toddler you know what I mean! Learning to be contained is a necessary part of life. If your child learns this at a young age there are many areas of life that this will transfer to. Sitting in a grocery cart, car seat, being held and not allowed to get down, sitting on an airplane, etc. It also provides a safe place to play away from other siblings. Where he doesn’t have to worry about toys being taken and you don’t have to worry about siblings interacting negatively while you are trying to get something done.

The benefits for mom are multifaceted as well. Mom can now plan 2 times into her day that her child is occupied and safe. And a time when her child is not going to need her attention. She can use this time to shower, make dinner, make phone calls, rest, or get things done around the house. All without having to have all eyes on her mobile baby or toddler. It’s AMAZING what a mama can accomplish in a short time when she’s uninterrupted! The timer will help you as well! I know I can get a ton done when I’m racing against the clock!

You can also use the play pen at other people’s homes or when you are traveling. Because they are already familiar with this space, using it for sleeping away from home is an easy transition. There are many times when it is very convenient to be able to put your child in a play pen or pack n play and have him contained.

When my kids were little I used it when we went camping, went to the beach, in hotel rooms, outside in our yard, when I was nursing the baby, etc. It was a wonderful tool that came in very handy ALL the time. It made life with young children significantly easier. I knew that I had 2 blocks of time in my day ( not including naptime) to do whatever it was that I needed to do. This allowed me to be more focused and present with my kids for the rest of the day. It also allowed me to get dinner on the table each evening. (playpen time happened every day at 4:00!)

Once your child is old enough (usually around 2 ½ -4 yrs. old) he can graduate to playing in his room with a gate at the door. The room will need to be safe to play unattended. The gate will still give him the physical boundary that he needs at that age. Small spaces with physical boundaries give kids a ton of security and generally make them happier and more content. A young child who has too much physical freedom many times can get out of control. They can also be whiny/fussy all the time. The simple act of bringing in their physical boundary makes them feel safe and secure. That’s why people who own larger homes with young children need to have gates within their home. Young children shouldn’t have the run of the house. It’s just too much physical freedom for them to handle.

I hope that this was helpful and that you are excited to make this a routine part of your day. I think you’re gonna love it as much as I did! (and thank goodness for mamas with 8 kids who know things…)

Let me know how it goes and reach out if you have questions!

Toddler Nutrition & Sleep This is THE Key to Successful Sleep Training Top Sleep Tips for Traveling with Young Kids

[fairytheo]

enhypen as your boyfriend.

boyfriend!enhypen x gen!reader. fluff. 1.9k. curse words. mention of bugs, food. not requested.

🐈 ⸝⸝ HEESEUNG ˙𐃷˙

super-duper caring !!

he’s so whipped for you — he smiles just by thinking about you

also very giggly around you

LOVES lending you his beanies

(aka. you stealing them..)

+ you steal his earrings as well ! not that he minds

absolutely adores singing for you / he loves singing you to sleep :D

hold up, is being heeseung’s s/o just being his personal ramen cook 🤨🤨

he aaalwaays bugs you to play games with him (especially wii and nintendo switch lmao)

either that or you’re playing animal crossing while eating takeout at your dinner table

you’re the only person in the world who he’ll ever do aegyo for. 

he secretly enjoys it, but shhh you didn’t hear that from me

i think he likes calling you names like cutie, cutiepie or just a shorter version of your name <3 (if there is one !)

booping your nose is on his everyday to do list ☝️

lowkey therapist & boyfriend in one ngl

WAIT he loves making playlists for you two,, 

“y/n! i made another playlist, do you wanna listen to it? i made it while thinking of you.” <//3 

the type to write cheesy lyrics about you, then later cringes at his own writing bUT then leaves it like that because you like it !

you have his cover of lauv’s “i’m so tired” either set as your alarm or play it on loop everyday 

(random but for some reason i can picture him giving you a cassette with his cover on it just for the vintage vibes)

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAY ˙𐃷˙

the mom-and-boyfriend in one ;] 

f a s h i o n  c o u p l e 

you are literally fashion icons. no disagreements. 

you have matching clothes or accessories ! even if it’s really subtle, the gesture behind it is super adorable <//3

cooking pt. 2 :D but this time there’s a gorden ramsay in your relationship

i can just SEE how you both two impersonate gorden ramsay while cooking which makes everything 10 times funnier !! checks every 5 seconds if the food is ready tho because he doesn’t wanna risk anything

never cleans up afterwards, either you do or no one does

since you’re both fashion icons your social media followers are going 📈📈📈

literally couple goals.

he loves taking pictures of you,, but also wants you to take pictures of him 

jay gets flustered easily so please make him flustered with sudden compliments, hugs, kisses, etc. !!

he’s also the only member i can really see calling you babe

confident but shy about pda at the same time ??? he’s both LOL 

you always tease him with his RAS moments and randomly quote them when you’re in the middle of a conversation with him lmao

random and idk if this fits here, but he likes making your lunch — leaves you encouraging notes too <3

last but not least: jokingly gets angry at you when he wants something from you, and you do the same thing back ♡

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAKE ˙𐃷˙

sweetest and softest boyfriend to ever exist. i’m so soft for him JSHSHS

definitely calls you sweetie and darling. 100%. fight me if you think otherwise. 

shows you pics of layla everyday (it’s become routine for him >_<)

a tiny bit cliché BUT lends you his jacket whenever you’re cold (even when you’re inside !!)

random thought: jake puts his hands in your hoodie pockets...

💔💔💔

it’s his personal goal to peck your cheek and forehead at least twice a day — gets pouty if he wasn’t able to do that ))):::

talks in english a lot because you love his accent !!

if you’re an english speaker, you’ll have conversations in english all. the. time.

if you’re not an english speaker, no worries, he’ll teach you !

+ reads you bedtime stories in english (jake’s australian accent >>>) 

dreams of travelling with you to australia <33  

if there’s a bug in the house you better know that jake will NOT be removing them and runs out of the house

WILL stay over at one of the other member’s houses untill that bug is REMOVED . 

so if you’re afraid of bugs as well,,, i’m sorry bae, but it’ll be your task to remove these little... creatures 😐

ngl you have more photos of layla than of him on your phone lol

(spams you with her pictures and captions them with “y/n!!! look!!! layla with a flower!!!! layla with a butterfly!!!!” it’s just so sweet aaa)

we need some “””drama””” so you make jokes about him being a “🥶💸🔥💪” boy a lot in your relationship LMAO

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNGHOON ˙𐃷˙

ice skating dates.

this has been mentioned in other headcanons a lot already but i just HAD to include it,,

convinces you to eat ice cream after your date LOL even if it IS winter

btw. fashion couple nr. 2 !!! 

MIRROR SELCAS

MIRROR SELCAS 

ugh the visuals and the power you two hold,,,, i can’t,,,,,

has better clothes than you ngl so you share clothes lmao

it started with him lending you his sweatpants, but then you didn’t want to return them forgot to return them and BOOM 💥 here we are

extremely awkward and shy at first — don’t worry though, he becomes much more chaotic in the later phases of your relationship

he teases you SO MUCH. LIKE. SO MUCH.

always has small smile (smirk?) on his face when he’s about to make a cocky remark (so beware)

you tease him back just twice as hard which 1.) results in him in becoming flustered 2.) fails LOL

off-topic but he’d love a s/o that has a similar style to him ??? a more elegant, classy, dark style perhaps

when he’s away / busy he’ll send you some selcas and captions them with “how r u doing??” “did you eat yet?” “cheer up :P” 

kinda shy about pda but likes showing off too ???

i mean,, men... 🙄🙄 /lh

whenever someone mentions your name near him, he’ll just try to hide his smile while biting his lip (yk what i’m talking about???) and you’ll see his dimples and the affectionate look in his eyes and just AAAAA

the type of boyfriend that calls you love~

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNOO ˙𐃷˙

skin care routines with sunoo 24/7 🤝

he does your hair (if your hair is long enough to do different hairstyles with it ofc !!) 

send you daily weekly skin care products he thinks you two should try out / that’d be good for your skin <3

spa nights every friday at 9pm — he only lets you in if you wear a stylish pyjama LOL

you buy him peach items because they just remind you so much of him (｡•́︿•̀｡)

SELCA TIME !!! his phone is always ready !!! (apart from his storage maybe?)

PARTICIPATES IN SELCA DAYS OF YOUR FAVOURITE IDOLS AAA

loves to go on walks w u

does A LOT of aegyo,, 

and i know that you knew that this point will be in this headcanon.

for eg. instead of saying goodnight or bye he’ll just do aegyo for you not that anyone minds tbh

stages of sunoo flirting (?):

a — tries to compliment you (it sounds more like a flirty remark tbh)

b — realizes then blushes

c — cringes and runs away LMAO

playfully acts jealous, so you know it’s a joke but deep down he’s actually jealous

you two match each others vibes a lot — if one is sad, the other is sad as well

+ tells you your posture is bad when you sit like a banana or tells you to go to sleep early and when you don’t listen to him, he’ll show you an article that proves that (abc) and (xyz) is bad for you and says “i told you so.” 💀

🐈 ⸝⸝ JUNGWON ˙𐃷˙

impresses you by doing kicks (does the kick cap challenge on tiktok and/or you play kick it by nct 127 for the funzies) 

poking his dimple is a MUST . 😩😩

though gets super shy when you kiss him and also if you buy him gifts !!

cheers you up whenever you feel down or are upset

compliments you a ton ))): will randomly come up to you and tell you that your fit is cute or that you look brighter today,,, little does he know it's because of him ;]

HUGS!HUGS!HUGS

poking his dimple comes first, then hugging

the other members tease you two everytime you’re over LOL it’s like there are two koalas clinging onto each other

our yang garden gained another sheep +1

you two randomly play sheep,,,, like,,, everyday ???? sheep cosplays 👍

idk why ig it’s just fun to imitate sheep and go “mmmeEeEeeEhh” to annoy others

talking of that, even THOUGH he is a responsible leader he will not hesitate to do stupid shit with you

“hey how about we ring on that house there and yell “sheep for sale!” do you think they’ll open the door?”

“i don’t know... let’s find out!” 🤝

let’s just say that this didn’t end well..

also kinda bullies you (in a loving way ofc !!) pand teases you nonstop

either calls you asshole or love aHA

in conclusion: a very unpredictable relationship,, would 10/10 recommend.

very random but i feel like his love language is acts of service

🐈 ⸝⸝ NI-KI ˙𐃷˙

oh look it’s our tsundere 😼

can’t go a day without dancing so you two have vibing sessions at 2am everyday ft. the others telling you to go to bed

you’re the only one that can make him soft lol

if you’re older than him, you would definitely take care of him like your own baby !! 

if you are the same age as him or younger it’d be awkward for him at first, because he isn’t used to taking care of someone younger, so he’d treat you as if you were his best friend at the beginning

you love to watch him dance !! it’s so satisfying,, LITERAL asmr.

pranks you 24/7. boy has NO mercy. will not care if the others will scold him later. he will do the prank smoothly (?) — doesn’t care about the consequences LMAO

probably sets your alarm to someone screaming or a cringy aegyo song <//3

wants to film dance covers with you !! you don’t have to be the best dancer either !! as long as you have fun ^__^ 

the other members find you really cute but are also vERY TIRED OF YOU,, two energized teens in a relationship was not a good idea ☝️

likes to randomly hold your hand and swing it around 

probably distant at the beginning of the relationship because a.) he doesn’t want to pressure you/make things awkward b.) he doesn’t really know what to do either ???

(if you’re not japanese or don’t know how to speak japanese) he’ll definitely teach you some japanese phrases and words !! introduce you to his culture as well :DD and he really wants to know more about your culture too <3

teaches you phrases like “sunoo is a dumbass” for the funzies LOL

randomly makes micheal jackson impressions,,, it’s hilarious LMFAO

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 8)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: underage drinking, angst, hoseok’s bare abs

Word Count: 10,705

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“Okay, even you have to admit this is too soon.” Finn stared, appalled at the chalkboard. “It’s not even Halloween!”

Laughing a little, you looped your arm around his to drag him towards the back. Plopping down in a chair, you placed your order number in the center of the table. Seating himself across the table from you, Finn began to undo his coat.

“Come on.” He grinned, brown hair flopping when he leaned forward. “Admit it – this is too early for holiday drinks.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little early,” you acquiesced. “But Halloween is tomorrow! They probably just put up the holiday drinks so they don’t have to do it on Sunday.”

“Laziness!” he cried, jabbing a finger in the air.

Shaking your head, you smiled when Namjoon, the barista, placed a pumpkin soy latte before you.

“Thanks!” you said, pulling this towards you.

“No problem,” he said, flashing his dimples before he turned to leave.

Taking a long, slow sip of your drink, you groaned. “Oh my god. This is it. This is heaven.”

Finn laughed. “Is that seriously your first pumpkin drink of the season?” Sadly, he shook his head. “I remember our senior year, you dragged me out of bed at 7:00 AM on a Saturday just to get the first pumpkin drink of the year.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I’ve needed the extra caffeine jolt each morning. Sweet drinks just don’t cut it anymore.”

“Ah, the first step in addiction.” Finn nodded sagely.

Smiling, you settled back in your seat as he took the first sip of his black coffee. It had been two weeks since your fight at the club and since then, Finn had been on his best behavior. For about a week, things between you had been awkward but slowly, your relationship was returning to normal.

Seated in the corner of your favorite coffee shop, you drank from your cup and glanced around the room. This was what you’d pictured when you imagined you and Finn living in the city together. Coffee dates, going on new adventures and continuing your relationship where it had left off.

Of course, this morning was only possible because Miss Britt’s ballet class had been cancelled. A contemporary master class had been scheduled for the afternoon, but your day before then was free – something you’d immediately taken advantage of by calling Finn. It was becoming easier to fit each other into your schedules, more like second nature, but things were still tense whenever things didn’t line up.

None of this was eased by the burgeoning whatever-it-was you’d shoved to the back of your mind regarding Jimin. Since the day of Mr. Vlad’s ballet class, you’d managed to keep your emotions in check, but were constantly on the lookout for dangerous situations. You and Jimin were professionals, obviously, but you were also only human. It was reasonable to have subconscious wants and desires, but these weren’t important unless you chose to act upon them.

You didn’t tell Finn about it because honestly, there was nothing to tell. Okay, so you’d felt an errant spark one day during a lift. Big deal. Finn had been your boyfriend for over two years – it would take more than that to threaten your relationship. A relationship which, frankly, had been getting stronger as of late. Telling him something as inconsequential as a spark you had with Jimin would only take you further down the wrong path.

“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing separate things tomorrow?” Finn interrupted your thoughts. His brow furrowed. “It is Halloween, after all.”

“Ah, yes.” You nodded. “Halloween, the internationally known couple’s holiday.”

He laughed. “Okay, point made – but still.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. This was something you’d already been over. “It just makes sense like this! Your friends are going to that off-campus party and I promised Noelle I’d go to this club thing with her.”

“Right, of course.” Finn grinned. “I’m bummed I’ll miss seeing you as the Powerpuff girls, though. Who’s going to be the third one, again?”

“Well, I’m Blossom – obviously.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Miss Responsibility.”

A twinge of annoyance went through you, but you pushed it aside. You didn’t think you were always the responsible one but admittedly, you’d been more on edge than usual lately.

“Anyways,” you continued with a roll of your eyes. “I’m Blossom, Noelle is Buttercup and Irene is going as Bubbles. It’ll be fun! Aside from the whole club part, of course.”

“It does sound fun,” Finn admitted, a tad mournful. “Meanwhile, I’ve been roped into the classic college bro costume of Ghostbusters.”

“Oh, come on! That is classic! You’ll be super cute in your… suit? Cargo pants? What do Ghostbusters wear again?”

“Knowing Ben, something tragic from Party City. Pray for me.”

“I’ll light candles.”

Finn grinned, sipping his coffee again and your conversation slipped naturally to other topics.

Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, which meant every college campus was gearing up for some epic parties. Noelle had managed to snag tickets to a club fancy enough to require an RSVP. Apparently, said brother she missed was a DJ and could get tickets to a lot of things if Noelle bothered to ask.

A bunch of people from Russet were going, which made you excited. There hadn’t been many parties with your classmates so far this semester. Despite technically being in college, your classmates were all under the same intense pressure, only made worse by constant early morning ballet.

This week though, even your teachers seemed to have decided you needed a break. Aside from the master class you had this afternoon, there were zero Russet classes until Monday morning. The break in schedule meant you could actually go out – and drink – if you so decided. You and Noelle were planning on attending a ballet class tomorrow, but your entire day after would be free.

You’d originally planned on seeing Finn during the day, but then he’d been invited to a Halloween darty (day party) starting at noon. Despite not seeing Finn on Halloween, you weren’t feeling stressed. It was only one holiday and not even a couple’s one, as you’d said.

After coffee, you kissed Finn goodbye and headed to class at Danley Hall. The atmosphere was different as soon as you entered the classroom – all of the students were buzzing, excited by the prospect of the weekend ahead. The excitement only grew when coupled with the fact that today’s class was contemporary.

For nearly two months, your training had been mostly ballet. This was the foundation of all western dance, and where most dance students were expected to start. Finally though, you were being given a chance to show off. Today’s teacher, Luna Jordan, was a well-known contemporary choreographer across the globe.

You’d done a master class with her once back in high school and honestly couldn’t wait to learn from her again. She wasn’t alone, though, you noticed as you walked in – an unfamiliar, dark-haired guy stood beside her, stretching lithely before the room’s mirror.

“Holy shit,” Noelle whispered as she came to a stop. “That’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Startled, you looked twice and saw she was right. You hadn’t recognized him without his bevy of followers, but Jeon Jungkook was known in the dance world. A child prodigy, he’d been on America’s Got Talent at age eleven and finished in second place. Following this, his family had moved to LA and he’d been in high demand for movies, music videos and performances ever since.

You remembered hearing he worked with Luna Jordan, but the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before now that he might be here.

Noelle cocked her head to one side. “He’s hot.”

“Noelle,” you hissed, trying to shush her.

“What!” A devious grin spread across her face. “Am I supposed to be blind, as well as mute?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Alright, everyone!” Miss Luna clapped her hands together. “I know everyone is excited for the weekend, but we unfortunately have an hour and a half together before then. Everyone spread out for warm-ups!”

A few people laughed, spreading out on the floor as class began. Noelle wriggled her eyebrows, pulling you towards the front in order to get the best spot. Hiding a smile, you ducked your head and settled beside her into a stretch.

Noelle was nearly as excited as you were for the opportunity to dance contemporary. Most of your classmates knew this to be your forte – you caught glances from the corner of your eye while you warmed up, trying not to let their attention get to your head.

Jimin was also near the front, although on the opposite side. You suspected your class was equally excited to see him perform – as talented as Jimin was at ballet, there was a reason you hadn’t thought he’d be at Russet this fall. Jimin’s strength in jazz and contemporary was unparalleled. You would’ve thought he’d gone to LA to become a dancer like Jungkook.

Speaking of whom – Jungkook really was attractive; that much couldn’t be denied. He had dark, wavy hair pulled into a bun and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. When he glanced up from his stretch, his gaze somehow found yours and he smiled.

Eyes widening, you stared until you caught sight of Jimin behind him. Glancing between the two of you, Jimin’s expression soured before he looked away. Lips parting, you felt the sudden urge to say something, but there was too much distance between you.

“You ready?” Miss Luna called, an upbeat pop song blasting from the stereo. “Let’s go!”

She launched into isolations, leaving the rest of the class to follow. Warm-ups passed quickly and before you knew it, you were gathered at center to learn the combination. Miss Luna’s style was right up your alley. The steps came easily and, once you’d learned the whole chorus, she left you alone to practice.

You were helping Ari with a difficult move when you caught sight of Sabrina as you turned. She’d positioned herself near the back, which had to be a first. Usually, Sabrina was front and center to allow for maximum receipt of teacher praise.

The decision to stand near the back could’ve been strategy – sometimes, dancers did that at conventions. Conventions were giant weekends of competition with teachers from all over the globe who taught master classes to hundreds of dancers in hotel ballrooms and convention centers. Space at the front tended to be limited, so some stayed at the back, where there was more room to dance and be seen. You had a greater likelihood to capture the teacher’s attention when you had the room to do incredible leaps.

Sabrina’s decision didn’t seem strategic, though. While you watched, Sabrina stumbled transitioning from one move to the next. A brief twinge of pity went through you.

It was easy enough to spot ballerinas dancing anything but ballet. Although ballet was the root of modern westernized dance, it could be hard to translate into other styles. Ballet was more rigid than contemporary, jazz or hip-hop. In ballet, each position was defined, individual style was limited, and dancers were expected to all look the same. Standing out in the corps de ballet was equally frowned upon as missing an entrance.

Not that ballet wasn’t important to all dance styles, mind you. Even hip-hop dancers took ballet to improve their balance, core strength and general understanding of the body. There was an element of individuality in other dance styles, though, which lacked in ballet. Contemporary and hip-hop dancers were expected to have relentless technique all while creating their own, unique flair.

Just looking at Sabrina you could clearly see the holes. She was trying so hard to emulate the moves of Miss Luna, she was kind of missing the point. When Miss Luna did a certain flick of the wrist, it wasn’t a defined part of the choreography, but rather an individual choice.

Without thinking, you took a step forward – only to stop. Sabrina wouldn’t want your help; she’d already made that abundantly clear. Besides, you knew her friend Katie to be a contemporary dancer. She could help Sabrina and yet, when you looked, you saw Katie practicing near the front with Jungkook.

Jungkook obviously knew the steps, since this was probably the tenth time he’d learned the combination. Dance teachers often did that – selected a dancer to attend classes with them, traveling to different cities to demonstrate the combination and help when they weren’t free.

Before you could decide whether to help Sabrina, Miss Luna clapped her hands again.

“Let’s do groups!” she declared. “I’ll count you off into groups of four, and each group will showcase. Sound good?”

It wasn’t really a question so much as an announcement. The rest of the class nodded, waiting while Miss Luna counted you off. You ended up in the same group as Irene, Paulo and a few others. Jimin and Noelle were in the group two, while Sabrina was in the group after theirs.

Jogging off to the side, you waited while the first group took center. You were part of group four, which meant you’d be amongst the last to dance on the floor. When the music began, you closed your eyes and began to mark the combination. You tried not to focus on what anyone else was doing, but this became difficult once Noelle’s group stepped up.

Noelle had trained in jazz and contemporary, although she’d stopped in high school to focus mainly on ballet. Still, her artistry shone in her movement. She could definitely stand to loosen up a bit but was still one of the best in the bunch. You found yourself smiling when she landed a turn, silently cheering her on from the side.

While you were watching, Jimin cut across your vision.

Dropping to the ground, he rolled and arched as his forehead brushed wood. His quality of movement was breathtaking and for a moment, you felt like you were back in high school.

Suddenly returned to those dimmed auditoriums, you watched Jimin take the stage like an otherworldly being. His body seemed to move before your mind could comprehend. Barely did he finish one move before he was starting another, the steps flowing endlessly together like unhindered water. Although you knew the combination and knew how you would dance it, watching Jimin perform was a different experience entirely.

Ballet required dancers to stay on the beat but in contemporary, they were expected to lag. Extensions were all the more breathtaking when they clung to the last second, seeming as though the dancer might not make it before they caught up. Jimin was an expert in this, knowing exactly when to hang precariously over the edge and when to pull back.

Watching him dance, that pesky, strange something bloomed in your chest again.

Squashing this quickly, you looked away and resumed marking the combo. The end of the song was improvisation though and, unable to stop yourself, you found your attention drifting to Jimin again. He was ridiculously beautiful – you nearly didn’t hear when Miss Luna called for them to stop. As she turned off the music, she applauded the group while they walked from the floor.

Breathing heavily, Noelle came to a stop alongside you and – somewhat guiltily, since you hadn’t been watching – you gave her a high-five.

“That was awesome!” you said with a grin. “You definitely stood out in the group.”

Noelle snort-laughed. “Not with Jimin up there, but that’s okay. This is his specialty – and yours,” she added with a wink. “I’m psyched for group four.”

“Ah,” you groaned, rubbing your neck. “Too much pressure.”

Noelle laughed, shaking her head as group three took the floor. Both of you fell silent to watch, your curious gaze finding Sabrina in the back. Sabrina looked almost nervous; an emotion which seemed out of place on her features. It made her look almost human.

As soon as the music began, you stifled a wince. Sabrina stood out from the group, and not in a good way. She had the combination down but moved with a woodenness you would’ve expected from someone half her age. It was enough for you to glance at Miss Luna, wondering if she had noticed.

“Wow,” Noelle whispered, looking almost gleeful. “Sabrina is terrible.”

“Noelle!” you whisper-laughed.

“What? After everything she’s done? After everything she’s said?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Sabrina deserves this.”

Despite privately agreeing, you couldn’t help but feel bad as Sabrina continued. Not wanting to watch any longer, you turned towards the front and resumed marking the combo. As soon as Miss Luna cut the music and polite clapping ensued, you turned back around.

It was time for group four. A shaky, sick feeling entered your stomach as you walked to center. So many eyes were on you, but it had been so long since you danced contemporary. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were as good as people seemed to imagine. Surrounded by so many dancers at Russet, surely your own talent would pale in comparison.

As soon as the music began though, everything faded. Insecurities slipping away, a lightness entered your chest as, eyes falling shut, you slowly inhaled.

Taking a step forward, you opened your eyes and began.

To you, dance had several phases. The first was learning, where you memorized each step and put them in order. The second was understanding, where your muscle memory began to take over and the combination felt smoother. The final phase, performance, was when you thought not of the steps, and were free to just dance.

This was your favorite phrase. In this phase, your mind separated from your body, leaving you only with sweat and emotion. Dance was the only art form composed solely of the body. An odd combination of physical strength and artistic beauty, it was both a testament to human capability and human emotion.

Losing yourself in the music, you ebbed and flowed through the combination until the choreography ended and improvisation began. Finally, you let go and held nothing back. Raw, unbridled passion poured out as you lost sight of yourself, so consumed by the movement.

When the song finally finished and you came to a stop, you were panting for breath. Glancing up, the first person you saw was Jimin.

He stood off to one side, leaning casually against the rungs of the barre, but his expression was anything but. Focused on you, his gaze had turned dark in a way which made you catch your breath.

Miss Luna clapped both hands once again, returning your attention to her. Blinking, Jimin shook his head and in your peripheral, you saw him straighten.

“Very good!” Miss Luna scanned the group. “I know our time is nearly at and end, but why don’t we have a few students come out and demonstrate?”

Again, this was fairly common in master classes. After learning the combination, teachers would often single out students to perform as examples. It wasn’t always the students with the best technique who got chosen. Oftentimes, it was as much for passion and performance quality.

Taking a step forward, Miss Luna began to call out names. You were one of the first – setting your water down, you jogged back to center. Jimin was the next person called, then Noelle, much to your excitement. Jungkook was also instructed to join on the floor.

Turning the lights halfway down, Miss Luna pressed play and let you improvise until the combination began. Jungkook started dancing and honestly, he was beautiful, but you couldn’t linger on him for long. 

Catching sight of Jimin again, you were once more transported to earlier times. This wasn’t the first time you’d been called out together. Oftentimes, this had happened at conventions but back then, your mind had been too clouded to see him for who he was.

You’d always wanted to beat him in high school, but now, you were consumed by the oddest desire to see him do well.

Glancing up, Jimin caught your gaze and he smiled – but then, the combination began.

By the time you were finished, you could hardly catch your breath but somehow, you felt the most alive you’d been in ages. Back in your own element, surrounded by some of the most amazing dancers in the world – this was what you’d imagined when you came to Russet.

People around the room clapped, some of them begrudgingly. You got the impression many of your classmates weren’t used to not being chosen. As you walked from the floor, you saw surprisingly, Sabrina wasn’t amongst them.

Instead, Sabrina simply looked tired – as though she’d tried her best and it hadn’t been enough. You knew that look. You sympathized with that look.

The look lingered in the back of your mind while you packed up your things and listened to Noelle discuss Halloween tomorrow. When she mentioned Ari had decided to visit her family this weekend, an idea began to form in your mind.

“Wait,” you interrupted, looking up. “Ari can’t come tomorrow?”

Noelle shook her head. “Her brother just turned eighteen, so her whole family is having a party or something.”

“So… her ticket is free, then?”

“Yes…” Noelle paused. “Why? Y/N, what are you planning?”

“Okay. Hear me out,” you said as you shrugged on your coat. It was cold enough now for the coat to be necessary.

Noelle sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Glancing away, you saw Sabrina packing her things on the other side of the room. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you returned to Noelle.

“What if we invited Sabrina?”

Noelle snorted. “Pass.”

“Noelle,” you laughed, reaching out for her arm. “Come on! Do you really think she’s doing anything for Halloween?”

“Probably not. And that’s her own fault.”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at Sabrina once more. “But how could it hurt? We have an extra ticket, there’ll be tons of people tomorrow night. She’ll probably say no – at least this way, you can claim a write-off on your way into heaven!”

Noelle upper lip twitched. “Oh, is that how write-offs work?”

“Well, I can only assume.”

Finally, she laughed. “Ugh, fine. You can invite her – but only because it’s Halloween, and Halloween is a time for peace. And slutty costumes.”

“Thanks, babe,” you said, squeezing her waist in a one-armed hug.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Noelle waved aside your thanks. Hiking your bag higher, you began to make your way across the room. As you closed in on Sabrina, you began to rethink your choice. It had been nearly a month since anything bad had happened between you but still, you found yourself feeling wary. As tough as you pretended to be, rejection hurt you just as much as the next person.

Still, dancing with Jimin had been a reminder of just how bitter your relationship used to be. If that relationship could change, you had to imagine things with Sabrina could, too.

Coming to a stop at her bag, you waited for her to look up. When she finally did, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What?” Sabrina asked, sounding defensive. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You couldn’t really blame her for her suspicion. Had your situations been reversed, you would’ve been equally distrustful. It was likely Sabrina thought you were coming over to gloat, or say something to do with class today. Another twinge of pity went through you as Sabrina zipped her bag shut to stand.

“I just wanted to know what you were doing tomorrow,” you said, trying to smile. “Noelle has an extra ticket to a Halloween party, and we thought you might like to come.”

Sabrina stared. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” you said, a bit slower. “You know – when we were kids, it was all about costumes and candy. Now, it’s about costumes and booze?”

Sabrina failed to crack a smile. “And you want… me to come to this party?”

Something about the way she said this made you sad, as though she genuinely thought this might be a joke. As though at any moment, someone might jump out and yell SIKE.

“Yeah,” you said, softening a little. “Look – it’s not a big deal if you can’t make it. A bunch of our class is going though, so we thought of you.”

Sabrina hesitated, then glanced at the door. “Okay,” she said, looking back. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come.”

Stifling your surprise, you nodded. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet us tomorrow before the club. Wear a costume,” you added before walking away. “Noelle said it’s required.”

“Alright,” Sabrina said, so quiet you almost missed it.

Walking away, you were nearly at the door when Jungkook popped up before you. Flashing a smile, he fixed a loose strand of hair away from his face. Feet fumbling to a stop, you could only stare.

“Y/N, right?” he said, sounding shy.

Unable to find the words, you blinked in response. The way Jungkook danced had been so confident, you’d only assumed this to be his off-floor persona, as well. Hearing him sound shy was unexpected. 

Also – you hadn’t expected him to know your name.

“I… yeah, that’s me.” Shaking your head, you smiled. “Jungkook, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I just wanted to say I’m such a big fan of your dancing. It was great to take class with you today.”

Without meaning to, a laugh escaped your lips. Jungkook stared at you, baffled until you quickly waved him off.

“Oh, no – no! Sorry,” you said. “I’m not laughing at you! I’m just laughing at the ridiculousness of you saying you’re a fan of me.”

Some of Jungkook’s wariness disappeared, and a small smile played across his lips.

“Well, I am.” His grin widened. “I used to assist on the convention circuit, too and I remember you being called out all the time. You and Jimin,” he added, glancing across the room.

You looked, too and saw Jimin still packing his things. His back was stiff, pointedly not looking in your direction. Lingering on him a moment, you returned to Jungkook.

“Still,” you said with a laugh. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say we took class together when you’re the teacher’s assistant.”

“True.” Jungkook paused. “Well, next time you’re in LA, let’s fix that. Let me know if you’re ever in town and we can take a class together.”

Despite yourself, your brows raised. It was harmless, but Jungkook was definitely flirting with you. He was attractive, sure and seemed nice, but he lived in LA and you had a boyfriend. You should probably leave before things had the chance to go any further. The last thing you needed was another complication. Adjusting your bag, you gave Jungkook a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before turning away.

Jungkook chuckled from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”

As you joined Noelle at the door, she stared over your shoulder.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop.

Noelle’s gaze moved to yours in disbelief. “How?” she demanded as you exited class. “How do you have all these men just… tripping over themselves for you?”

Heat rising to your face, you shook your head. “That’s – I,” you sputtered. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” Noelle grinned. “First Jimin, now Jungkook… and all this while having a boyfriend.” 

“I… you... Jimin is not tripping over himself for me!”

Both her brows shot way, way up. “Is that the only part of the sentence you took objection to?”

“Shut up,” you groaned and shoved her in the side.

Noelle laughed but nodded. “Alright, fine! I’ll stop. Did Sabrina say she’ll come?”

“She did.”

“Great. I still don’t like her,” Noelle said, pushing open the door. “But I guess you’re right, I have an extra ticket. It’s nice to be nice.”

You laughed, pulling your coat tighter as you walked outside. “You’re a saint.”

While you walked, your phone dinged and pulling this from your pocket, you saw a notification on Instagram. Jeon_Jungkook97 has followed you.

Shaking your head, you returned this to your jacket as you continued. While it was nice of Jungkook to compliment your dancing, his approval didn’t mean as much as certain other peoples had. This realization stuck in your mind, making you wonder about Noelle’s teasing jibe.

She had said Jimin flirted with you, but that wasn’t true – was it? You would have known if Jimin were flirting. It was hard to pick out though, since Jimin was friendly with everyone. That was just who he was; as he’d said earlier, he liked to be liked. A note of uncertainty entered your thoughts though, recalling the ballet class with your chest pressed to his. Shoving this away, you forced yourself to focus on the upcoming weekend.

Halloween was a night for fun, for letting loose and enjoying yourself with your friends. You refused to let the night be spoiled by any lingering feelings – either from you, or towards you.

The next night was perfect Halloween weather.

Chilly, but not cold enough to risk snow falling. There were several Halloweens from childhood you could recall trick-or-treating with a winter coat flung over your costume because the temperature had dropped below freezing.

You, Noelle and Irene showed up to Paulo’s house around 8:00 PM, shivering a little while you stood on his doorstep. Paulo was one of the few freshmen who lived off-campus, having known several upperclassmen before he came to Russet. The brownstone he lived in was cute, with window boxes you imagined hosted flowers in the summer.

Tugging your pink and black minidress down, you adjusted your bow as Paulo opened the door.

Blinking, he took in your costumes. “The Powerpuff girls!” He cheered, raising an arm overhead. “Try not to take down any of the villains upstairs, yeah?”

“No promises,” said Irene, flicking hair over her shoulder.

Entering the house, you heard thumping bass from an apartment upstairs. Paulo lived on the third floor and as you climbed the steps, the music grew louder. It took Paulo two tries to shove open the door – “warped wood,” he explained – but once you were inside, you saw familiar faces.

“The Powerpuff girls!” Jasmine cried, jumping up from the couch. “Finally! Thank god – can you take down Eamon? He came here dressed as a potato, or something.”

“It’s an avocado!” Eamon shouted from the kitchen. He was dressed in a round, green costume with a halo overhead. “I’m ‘holy guacamole’ – get it?” he said, pointing at the halo.

Jasmine stared at him a moment. “That’s terrible. Worse than mine,” she said with a wave down her body. “I’ve been Princess Jasmine for the past five Halloweens. It’s easy to remember and I already have the outfit.”

Laughing, you shrugged off your coat and added this to a pile on the couch. “It’s a classic,” you agreed as you turned.

Noelle had managed to procure at least twenty tickets to the party tonight, so a lot of your freshman Russet class was in attendance. Including Sabrina, who stood in the corner, talking to Louis over cups of red punch. She looked up when you entered, pausing before she gave a small wave. Surprised by the gesture, you did the same.

“No.” Noelle groaned, coming to a stop alongside you. When you looked, you saw she’d already removed her coat. “Tell me Sabrina didn’t come to this party dressed as a ballerina.”

“We did invite her at the last minute,” you laughed. “Hard to find a good Halloween costume in a day.”

“Hey,” Noelle argued. “There’s no we here. You were the one who invited her, and you’ll be the one to accept the consequences should your social experiment fail.”

“Done,” you agreed. “Speaking of social experiments though, I’m ready to get drunk tonight. Where’s the alcohol?”

“Kitchen!” Irene called, brushing past. “Or – that’s where Brian disappeared to when we entered, so I can only assume.”

Telling Noelle you’d be back with drinks, you wound through the room towards where Irene had pointed. The kitchen was tiny, on par with most city apartments. There was only room enough for one or two people, so you were lucky it was deserted when you entered.

Surveying the counter, you found the usual party staples. A bowl of red punch, a bunch of beer and various liquor bottles with chasers. Skipping over the communal punch bowl, you reached for a bottle of diet coke and coconut rum.

“Oh,” a voice said as they entered the kitchen. “Sorry – I didn’t know you were in here.”

Glancing up, you saw Jimin and froze.

He’d dyed his hair black – that was the first thing you noticed. Jimin’s hair was no longer blonde, but completely dark. His outfit confused you at first – a frilly, white blouse with slicked-back hair and dark trousers – until you saw his bright red contacts and the dribble of blood at his mouth.

“A vampire,” you said, finally recovering your voice. Scanning his body, you frowned. “Where are the teeth, though?”

Jimin blinked, his gaze jerking up from your waist.

“Huh?” he said, sounding a bit strangled.

Cheeks heating a little – your dress was pretty short – you repeated yourself. “The teeth,” you said, pointing at your own lips. “Don’t vampires have fangs?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin dug around in his pocket – fuck, were his trousers tight – to produce twin fangs. “I took them off when I got here. They’re really hard to talk in.”

“Go on then, Park,” you said with a grin. “Put them in.”

“One second.” Twisting to face the wall, Jimin popped them in his mouth. Turning around, he bared his teeth. “Sexy?”

With the teeth in though, the word came out more like shex-shie and you burst into laughter. “So sexy,” you agreed, reaching past him for a cup.

Jimin stiffened when your arm brushed his front. Unbidden, you thought about what Noelle had said – Jimin had been flirting with you. Pulling away, you resumed making your drinks and tried not to look in his direction.

Even so, you remained aware of his presence. Jimin inched his way behind you, reaching for the whiskey on the other side. His arm brushed your elbow as he went, right knee nudging yours in an intimate gesture.

Glancing up from the counter, you accidentally caught his gaze. Despite your earlier joking, he did look sexy. Devastatingly so. Even the blood-red contacts weren’t enough to deter the shiver which ran down your spine.

Shaking yourself free from your trance, you grabbed both cups and pulled back. 

“So, what’re you drinking?” you asked. 

You decided it was best to steer the conversation away from how sexy Park Jimin was or was not.

Seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jimin poured whiskey into his cup. “Whiskey and coke. Can you pass me that bottle?”

“Sure,” you said, leaping at the chance to prevent him from walking past you again. “Here you go.”

Pushing this forward, you watched Jimin pour both drinks all the way to the brim. He paused near the end, staring into the depths before he looked up. He seemed to be warring with something, debating whether or not to speak whatever was on his mind.

“So…” He paused. “Do you know Jungkook, or something?”

You blinked. “Jungkook…?”

“You know, Miss Luna’s assistant. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh! Jungkook. No, I don’t really know him.”

“You were talking to him at the end of class, though?”

Hearing the curiosity in his voice, both your brows raised. “And?”

“And nothing,” Jimin said, sounding uncomfortable. “I just… I didn’t know you knew him, that’s all.”

“I mean, I don’t.” You paused. “But even if I did, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” His cheeks began to redden. “It’s just – ah, never mind. We don’t have that great a history, that’s all. He’s kind of the reason I’m at Russet this year.”

You stared at Jimin a moment. “Wow, what a tragedy,” you said, stifling a laugh. “To have been forced to attend one of the most prestigious dance institutions in the world.”

His upper lip twitched. “It’s not that. I was deciding between attending Russet and accepting a job offer out west. I was asked to join this pop star on tour… anyways, Jungkook’s never liked me much. It’s a long story.” Jimin’s brow furrowed. “My offer was rescinded at the last minute. The artist never said why, but I always got the feeling he had something to do with it.”

You stared at Jimin a moment, unsure how to respond. Jungkook hadn’t seemed like that kind of person, but you supposed you’d only talked to him for a few minutes. If that was true, what happened to Jimin sucked and yet, the next words from your mouth nearly had you face-palming.

“And here I thought I was your biggest rival, Park,” you said.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Are you… jealous, Y/N?”

He sounded almost pleased by the notion, which sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

“Not at all,” you said quickly, turning back to your drinks.

Jimin made a soft tsk-ing sound, as though he didn’t believe you.

“That sucks,” you continued, determined to change the subject. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah. Maybe it was all for the best, though. Things happen for a reason, right?”

Looking up, you caught Jimin’s stare. He didn’t look immediately away and you got the oddest sensation he meant more than what he said. Hastily, you pushed this feeling aside, clutching your drinks as you entered the main room. Jimin followed close behind, two cups in his hands.

“When did you get here?” you asked. “Been here long?”

Jimin shook his head. “Nah. Hoseok and I got here like, ten minutes ago. He should be around here somewhere, he –”

“Y/N!”

You looked up just in time to see Hoseok, Jimin’s roommate, barreling towards you.

“It’s been so long!” Crushing you to his chest, Hoseok wrapped you in a hug. “Hope Jimin isn’t boring you to death,” he stage-whispered before he pulled away.

“Just for that.” Jimin arched a brow. “Both these drinks are for me.”

“No – wait, wait. I’m sorry!” Hoseok pouted. “Hand over the drink, Park. It’s been the longest fucking week.”

Jimin grinned and relented, handing Hoseok his cup as you laughed. Hoseok was a newer friend, but he was close to Jimin, so he’d gradually bled into your latest gatherings. Despite not being on the ballet track, most of the dancers at Russet knew of him. Hoseok had that way about him.

Glancing down at your outfit, Hoseok held up a finger. “Let me guess – Blossom,” he said, turning to scan the room. “Which means… aha! Irene is Bubbles and Noelle is Buttercup. Makes sense.”

“And you are…” Pausing, you squinted at his outfit. “Someone at the spa?”

“Sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “Honestly, I just wanted to wear a bathrobe.”

Said bathrobe was paired with only boxers, the front of the robe open to display his toned abs. The costume didn’t surprise you, based on past interactions with Hoseok.

Casually, he twirled the robe tie in a circle. “Impressive, no?” Hoseok glanced away. “Whoa, wait – they have beer pong? See you all later!”

Hurrying off, he left you alone with Jimin. Shaking your head, you glanced in his direction and saw Jimin down his whole drink. Arching a brow, you were about to ask why when Irene called your names from across the room.

“Y/N!” She waved her hands. “Jimin! Get over here, you two – we need more for flip cup!”

You found yourself pulled in this direction despite your insistence you didn’t do well under pressure. Jimin ended up at the other end of the table and you lost sight of him when you started to play, paired with Jasmine for a partner.

By the end of the first round, you discovered you weren’t as horrible a player as you’d imagined. Then someone suggested mixed drinks for the second round, and things became fuzzier. There were more people present than just current students of Russet. One of Paulo’s roommates knew Seokjin, so you saw him in the room, along with Sana.

You chatted with both over the course of the evening, in addition to a guy who’d recently debuted on Broadway, Kim Taehyung. Apparently, there was already buzz around him for a Tony. Taehyung was nice, but it was sometime during this conversation you realized how tipsy you were. Apparently, not drinking for several months and then going ham made for very low tolerance.

Collapsing onto the couch, you joined Irene and Brian’s conversation. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Noelle – a terrible flip cup player, she’d roped Hoseok into giving her private lessons, but these seemed to be going terribly. Or perhaps very well, given how much the two of them were laughing.

You completely forgot about Jimin until you spotted him across the room talking to Sabrina. Seeing them together, you straightened. Both seemed fairly comfortable, which struck you as odd. Since that morning in Jimin’s dorm, you hadn’t really seen them hang out together.

Despite this, Jimin was laughing at something Sabrina had said. Tearing your gaze away, you forced yourself to focus on the conversation at hand. It didn’t matter who Jimin spoke to, or even who he decided to go home with tonight. He was your dance partner and friend, nothing more and besides – you had a boyfriend.

Blinking, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone. To your disappointment, you’d gotten no texts from Finn since this morning. You assumed he was still at his party but didn’t know for sure. Shooting him a text, hey, you waited for a response and when you got none, returned your phone to your purse.

Across the room, you heard Noelle yell your name. “Y/N!” She cupped her mouth with both hands. “We need another person for flip cup!”

Laughing, you pushed yourself from the couch and were immediately roped into your fourth game of the night. The night blurred again after that, turning into a pleasant hum of conversation and booze. At some point, Ubers were called to bring you to the club. As you rushed downstairs, you realized you forgot your coat as soon as you stepped outside.

Shivering violently, you rubbed your arms and cursed yourself for poor foresight.

“Y/N?” Jimin came to a stop alongside you. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“Inside,” you said through chattering teeth. “I-it’s fine, though. I’m fine!”

Jimin gave you a look. “Where’s Paulo?” he said, glancing around. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”

“The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued, grabbing his sleeve to drag him towards the curb. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”

Jimin sighed but gave in, following when you rushed to the grey SUV. Irene had claimed the front seat, so you and Jimin pulled open the middle door – Noelle and Hoseok were crowding behind you, so you and Jimin ended up together in the backseat.

Collapsed in a heap, you giggled as Jimin tried to squish himself in a corner. “Sorry,” he said, trying – and failing – to keep his knees separate.

“Jimin.” You snorted. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”

Jimin’s lips parted, shocked, but you were already hoisting yourself over the middle seat. Draping your arms next to Noelle, you begged her to play your favorite song on the radio. Had you been more sober, you might’ve recognized your position to be precarious – perched on the edge of your seat, your ass hovered inches away from Jimin’s face.

Plopping back down, you glanced sideways at Jimin and found him frozen. Suddenly, you realized the visual he’d had.

“Um, so what happened to the teeth?” you blurted, determined to change the subject.

Jimin blinked and managed to meet your gaze. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”

“That’s true.” Jimin arched a brow. “Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”

“Lucky for me? Lucky for you,” you retorted. “My blood is about half alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”

The idea of a silly vampire made you laugh – even more so when you pictured said vampire as Jimin. He seemed much too coherent for your liking right now.

“A silly vampire, huh?” Jimin looked on, amused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”

“We’re here!” squealed Noelle, throwing open the door.

A blast of cold air hit you and you shivered, wishing you’d worn your coat. Jimin’s gaze remained steady on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said lowly. “I can give you, uh…”

“Your shirt?” you said dryly, lifting a brow as you brushed past. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”

Jimin chuckled before he followed suit, although you cursed as soon as you left the car. He was correct. It was freezing, even with your alcohol-induced blanket.

“Come on!” you yelped, following Noelle towards the entrance.

Bypassing the line, Noelle walked straight towards the bouncer and showed him her phone. He nodded and waved her past, counting your friend group who followed. Not everyone from Paulo’s place had gone to the club, but enough for you to make quite the entrance.

“Y/N!” Noelle doubled back to link arms with you. “Come on – this way! That guy’s going to show us to our table.”

“Table?” you asked her, wide-eyed.

Tables in a club on Halloween night were ridiculously expensive, but it seemed Noelle had downplayed her brother’s connections. Your group was led right to the front of the upper balcony, getting a coveted spot overlooking the dance floor below.

This was undeniably the coolest club you’d been in. Not that you’d been in many, mind you, but this one had to take the cake. A half-circle of tables took up the top floor, with twin staircases descending to the main room below. Most of the lower floor was for dancing, although you saw additional tables pushed to the sides. Fluorescent bars and dance platforms were dotted throughout and above all was the DJ booth, blasting the latest songs.

“Whoa,” you breathed.

Noelle grinned, squeezing your arm to pull you into the booth. As soon as you settled in, Jasmine leapt up and clapped her hands.

“I want to be in one of those!” she said, pointing to a glowing cage at the center of the dance floor.

“Oo, me too!” Irene leapt up to join her.

“Me, three!” said Paulo, clambering out of the booth.

“Awesome.” Irene beamed and glanced your way. “What about you, Y/N? You in?”

The idea was tempting for a moment, but then Finn flashed through your mind. You highly doubted he’d be on board with you gyrating for a room full of strangers without him. Somewhat dejectedly, you plopped back on the bench.

“That’s okay,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”

Irene frowned but nodded, following the rest when they left for the stairs. About half the group went, clearing out the table while you stared at the dance floor.

Jimin slid into the bench alongside you. “You don’t want to dance?”

Startled, you glanced in his direction. While you watched, Jimin began to undo his cuffs, casually rolling the sleeves of his shirt. His hair, which had been slicked back at the start of the night, was starting to fall. Several dark strands hung over his forehead, although this only seemed to make the look more appealing.

“No,” you said, crossing your legs. “I just… don’t really feel like it.”

“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”

“Kind of.” You laughed. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”

“It is when you’re at the club with all dancers,” Jimin pointed out, nodding towards the floor.

Following his gaze, you saw Jasmine dancing full-out in a lit-up cage. She wasn’t so much gyrating as she was creating choreography on the fly. The mere mortals around her looked on in awe. Fighting a smile, you returned to Jimin.

“Okay, that does look like fun,” you admitted. “The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”

Jimin blinked. “Sorry – what?”

“In the cab,” you said, leaning closer in order to be heard. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um, the night you came and picked me up.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, as though contemplating something important. Abruptly, he stood and held out a hand. You blinked at this like he’d offered a football.

“What are you doing?” you said, glancing up.

“Taking you down to the dance floor.” Jimin retracted said hand. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”

“Hey!” In disbelief, your mouth fell open. “You said you’d forget all about that!”

His smile turned impish. “Seriously, we can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”

“The sprinkler?” Starting to laugh, you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”

“Nah. My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”

Snorting, you shoved him in the arm before following Jimin to the dance floor. It didn’t take you long to spot your other friends, clustered near the front and around the DJ booth.

“Y/N!” Noelle cheered, breaking off from the pack. “You made it!”

She nearly spilled her drink while she danced, catching herself just in time as she spun around. You grinned, entering the circle with Jimin by your side. He did, in fact, pull out the criss-cross – Hoseok joined in and soon, there was a Fortnite dance battle between them. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve seen a TikTok dance-off between two semi-professional dancers.

This ended with both declaring mutual defeat, and Hoseok disappearing to buy the next round. Noelle shimmied her way over to Jasmine, accepting the hand given to stand on the platform.

You laughed at their ridiculous dance moves, choosing instead to stay on the ground. The crowd around you had thinned since you’d joined. Eamon disappeared a few minutes later, saying something about needing a drink upstairs. Before long, Irene had joined Jasmine and Noelle on the platform, leaving you alone with Jimin on the floor.

Under other circumstances, you might have felt uncomfortable, but Jimin was so good at putting you at ease. Determined to keep you in the present, he came up with more and more complicated dance moves which had you snorting with laughter.

On a particularly flamboyant spin, Jimin accidentally smacked the drink from someone’s grasp. Blue vodka splattered everywhere, drenching its owner – a burly man in leather who snarled in frustration.

Looking up, he met your gaze and his eyes narrowed.

“Shit. Run!” you blurted out.

Grabbing Jimin by the arm, you dragged him into the crowd.

“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin tried to twist around. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”

Once there was suitable distance between you and the guy, you came to a stop. Laughing so hard you nearly fell over, you turned sideways to face him.

Bodies pressed against you from every side but rather than feel claustrophobic, all you could think about was Jimin before you. His hair had become thoroughly mussed during the night and you fought the sudden desire to smooth it down.

Although your breath came hard, the club around you seemed to slow. The music somehow had narrowed to pinpricks, a heady thump of bass while everything dulled.

What you should’ve done was taken a step back – but you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze drifted across his face. Jimin stared back, something intense to his gaze you couldn’t quite name. Breath caught in your throat, his eyes dropped to your lips.

Before you could react, someone bumped into you from behind, sending you careening forward. Jimin caught you easily, one arm around your waist and your chest pressed to his. You could feel every hard line of his body, his thigh wedged between your legs while you grasped at his arms. Heart thudding traitorously against your ribcage, you tried to ignore the emotions which followed.

It was impossible. 

The song playing was slower, sexier than the one which had inspired the dance-off. Without meaning to, your weight subtly shifted. This caused your hips to move against his as Jimin quietly sucked in a breath. The effect this had on him was instantaneous. His grip on you tightened, gaze heady with desire and something more. Before you could second-guess what you were doing, you moved your hips again – this time, on purpose.

Jimin’s eyes darkened. Without looking away, his grip on you tightened as he slowly dragged you up his thigh. Suddenly breathless, your hands gripped him tighter while your eyes fluttered shut. The heat of his body on yours, the faint smell of cologne and sweat, the tension in his limbs and the knowledge of what he could do to you – it all left your head spinning.

“Y/N,” Jimin murmured, low in your ear.

You weren’t used to him saying your name like that.

You were used to him saying your name in every other way, but not that. Sharp with dancer’s critique, brusque with instruction, light with teasing – but not like something heavy was lodged in his throat. Maybe his heart.

Panicked, your eyes flew open.

What were you doing? This wasn’t some random stranger and this sure as hell wasn’t your boyfriend. This was Jimin. Stumbling backwards, you broke from his hold. Jimin seemed equally stunned, staring at you on the dance floor.

“I have to go,” you blurted and whirled around.

Shoving into the crowd, you heard Jimin emit a soft groan. Despite this, he didn’t immediately pursue, for which you were grateful. Stumbling through strangers, strobe lights flashed brightly overhead. You squeezed between someone dressed as a go-go and another person dressed as a werewolf. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the floor, you scanned the room and saw no one from Russet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Jimin now followed. Panicking again, you began to move. Beside one of the bars, you spotted a hallway labeled restrooms. Heading in this direction, you quickly disappeared inside the door marked women.

Once inside, you locked yourself in a stall, lowered the lid and sat down. Head in hands, you slowly exhaled. You were a coward; that much was clear. Jimin was probably out there looking for you right now, but you’d rather hide in a bathroom than face him.

The fluorescent lighting overhead was too bright – it made you feel overexposed. After a long moment, you fished around in your purse and pulled out your phone. Flipping to your thread with Finn, you saw he’d sent no response since your text. Complete and utter silence.

Heart cracking a little, you slid this in your bag and stared at the door. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. When you imagined you and Finn at college, you’d always pictured you together, attending the same parties and sharing the same adventures. Tonight though, had proven to be anything but that. Finn hadn’t once glanced at his phone judging by the unread mark next to your text.

Dimly, you wondered why you weren’t more upset about this. It should bother you that Finn hadn’t called or even texted throughout the day. Sure, he was out with friends, but so were you and you’d reached out – as soon as you thought this, your heart sank.

You weren’t sure you could call Jimin a friend after what had just happened.

Sure, you’d only danced, and it had only been for a second but still, guilt bloomed behind your ribcage. The idea of Finn doing the same thing with anyone else made your heart twist. You wouldn’t feel that way if what you’d done wasn’t wrong.

Groaning out loud, you lowered your head to your hands. After several minutes, you felt calm enough to stand and pretend-flush the toilet. As you exited the stall, you walked to the sink and began washing your hands. Staring at yourself in the mirror, a million things ran through your mind.

Clearly, the situation with Jimin was worse than you’d thought. The spark you’d felt kept returning, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Maybe the only solution was to find a new partner. The very idea made your heart sink, but you couldn’t deny things had gotten out of hand.

Before you could seriously consider the option, the door to the bathroom flung open and banged against the wall. Sabrina stormed in, wiping both eyes with the heel of her hand. You froze, staring at her in the mirror but she didn’t seem to notice your presence.

When she finally lowered her hands and took a deep breath, she saw you and froze.

For a moment, you both only stared at each other and then – you coughed. Awkwardly, you began to dry your hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tentative.

Sabrina stiffened. “I’m fine,” she muttered, walking to the sink.

You watched her wash her hands, struggling and failing to control her expression. Sabrina’s hair was a mess and you stared, wondering where she’d been. You hadn’t seen her since you’d entered the club, but had assumed she’d stayed on the second floor.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, remembering your night at the other club. “You know, you can –”

“Will you… just stop.” Sabrina closed her eyes. “Will you … stop pretending like we’re friends, or something?”

Struck with disbelief, you could only stare. “I… are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” You shook your head. “Just wow.”

Her lips tightened and finally, she whirled around. “What?” Sabrina demanded. “What is it?”

The look in her eyes was familiar. Her frustrated, angry look was mirrored in your expression, but you found you didn’t care. Sabrina was clearly going through something, but her rudeness to you was the final straw. Tired from Finn, Jimin and the constant pressure you were both under, something about Sabrina’s words made you break.

“Why are you always such a… such a bitch,” you blurted, hurling the word like a knife. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you always act like you hate me so much?”

Sabrina’s upper lip curled. “Why do you always think this is about you, Y/N? Maybe I just wanted one second of peace and instead, here you are. Like always.”

“Here I am, in the public restroom of a club we’re all at?”

“No. Here you are in my life,” she snapped, pushing herself from the sink. “People won’t talk to me? It’s because you’ve run your mouth about things you think I’ve done. I’m falling in the class ranks? It’s because you’re after my spot. Jimin doesn’t want to be my partner? It’s because of his feelings for you. I’m sick of turning around and always seeing you there!”

“Okay, but none of those things – I, Jimin doesn’t have feelings for me,” you sputtered.

Sabrina gave you a look. “Oh, please, Y/N.” Her laughter was harsh. “Why else would he turn me down?”

“Um, maybe because he’s a decent human being? Unlike yourself.”

“Great, yeah.” Sabrina glared. “Make me the bad guy again.”

“I’m not the one doing that,” you huffed. “You are. You want to blame me because no one wants to be your friend? Maybe try reaching out first. Maybe don’t talk shit about people behind their backs. And I’m improving because I’m taking extra lessons. No thanks to you, of course.”

“Don’t try and make me feel bad because I didn’t have time to give you lessons.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to explain why I’m improving and you’re not.”

Sabrina bristled. “Are you saying I don’t work hard, too?”

“No.” Mirthless, you laughed. “I know you work hard – maybe even as hard as I do. But you know what the big difference is between you and me?” you said, drawing yourself to your full height.

Sabrina’s eyes glimmered while she stared you down. Still, she retained her aloofness when she said, “What? What’s the big secret?”

“You think everyone’s out to get you,” you said, stepping closer. “You think not asking for help makes you stronger, but it’s the exact opposite. At least I’ve improved since the start of the year. What have you done?”

Not waiting for an answer, you pushed past Sabrina and walked out the door.

Shoving it wide, you entered the hallway. Dance music flooded your senses and you winced, remembering where you were and what you’d been doing. Luckily, Jimin was nowhere in sight. He must not have seen where you’d disappeared to.

Shoulders slumping, you pulled out your phone and dialed a number. Walking to the front, you concentrated on breathing while you waited for them to pick up. Coming to a stop beside coat check, you didn’t leave the club – a lesson you’d learned the hard way.

Noelle answered on the third ring. “Babe?” she yelled, barely audible over the din. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Are you…” Closing your eyes, you paused. “Can we leave?”

Noelle paused, then muffled her phone with one hand. “Irene!” you heard her yell. “You good to get a ride home for these people? Okay, cool. Bye!” Her phone became un-muffled. “Where are you, babe?”

After explaining your location, you hung up and hugged yourself with both arms. Noelle burst into view a few moments later, scanning the crowd like a mom on a mission. When she saw you, she rushed over – and you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, no!” Pulling you into a hug, Noelle began to rub your back. “No, no, babe! Don’t cry! What’s going on? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Hearing Jimin’s words said by Noelle only made you cry harder. Wisely sensing this to be a problem not easily solved, Noelle continued rubbing your back while walking towards the exit.

The two of you went outside and, as luck would have it, saw a group of people arriving at the club. Noelle snagged their taxi, helping you in the backseat and giving the driver your address. As you settled against her, your head on her shoulder, Noelle kept rubbing your arm and waited for the tears to stop.

You weren’t really sure why you were crying.

Of course, Sabrina was terrible, as was the situation with Jimin, but it was more than that. Dancing with Jimin hadn’t caused problems in your relationship with Finn. There had been problems in your relationship Finn and so, feelings had crept in which led you to dance with Jimin.

More than that though, you couldn’t help but notice Noelle had come to your aid much faster than Finn ever had. Even Jimin had dropped everything when you asked, and he was someone you’d once called your enemy. Noelle had been having fun, but she’d cut her night short because you were upset. This knowledge crushed you and for the very first time, you realized your relationship with Finn might be unfixable.

Curled up on the backseat, you let yourself cry a bit more. You could be calm and rational in the morning, you decided but for now, you just felt defeated.

When you finally climbed into bed at your dorm at night, you looked at your phone and saw Finn still hadn’t texted.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[threeletterslife]

All You See is Blue

→ [3/7] of the Society Series

→ summary: It's true. The skies are so beautiful here when you look up, a vast expanse of cerulean blue stares right back at you. You're in paradise. Right?

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 100% soft angst (🥺✨but make it lowkey 💀🥀⛓) | prince jk!au

→ warnings: underage drinking, death, believing in multiple deities

→ wordcount: 9.2k

cr.

You sniffle.

You sniffle again.

You're about to sniffle a third time when your mother jerks her head towards you, shooting you an unappreciative look.

"But mother—"

"Hush, Y/N. The crops aren't going to harvest themselves," she retorts. "Stop sniffling. And stop daydreaming about the damn sky. You're becoming delusional."

"But mother," you insist. "Today's the Choosing Ceremony! I need to get cleaned and dressed. I'm filthy—"

"You will not be chosen." Your mother turns her back away from you, hunched over and tending to the sprouts that had somehow miraculously found purchase in the dry, dusty soil. "You were not chosen last year. Nor the year before that. Nor the year before that. I could continue on, child. You're 19, now. This year will do you no favor once again. Throw away your foolish high hopes, Y/N. The royal family will not look at you twice."

You grit your teeth, scrutinizing the dirt clinging to your only pair of shoes before scoffing out loud. "It's my last year to make an impression."

"Don't waste your time."

You throw down your basket, glaring at your mother's backside.

"Stop being such an ungrateful child," she says without turning around to face you. "Who will take care of the fields with me if you are chosen? You can miss the Choosing Ceremony. Would you want to abandon your family to live with the spoiled royals?"

Yes.

All your life, you've daydreamed about being admitted into royalty. To spend endless hours looking up at the beautiful blue skies of the blessed Cerulean Kingdom. To admire the dazzling fireworks in the night sky and the glamorous rooms of the castle. To feast on the towers and towers of bountiful food. You want to do whatever you want whenever you want.

To honor the villagers who work tirelessly in the fields, every year, the royal family takes in one lucky girl from ages 13 to 19 under their wing and lets them live lavishly for the rest of their life.

A lavish life is what suits you. You're no good at housework and just barely decent working in the fields. But you tend to daydream often, staring up at the alluring blue sky—before your mother scolds you for sticking your head up in the clouds, that is. You doubt you're helpful in the household. You might even be more helpful when you're gone.

If only your mother understands.

She won't be able to change your already made up mind.

"Mother, I'll help you later." You stretch your back, shading your eyes from the sun beating down upon you. You squint at your mother's hunched back in pity. Years and years ago, she hadn't been chosen in the Choosing Ceremony either—stood through seven ceremonies in silence, clapping bitterly when every year, a girl who wasn't her was chosen. She's still bitter about it. But she should just move on. Let you take one last chance. Shaking your head in dismay, you bite your lip. "Um, I'll be back in an hour."

"Y/N!"

You don't turn back as you run away from the fields. This is your last chance. And something about this year feels good. If you played your strings just right and caught the royal family's attention... then maybe... just maybe, you might become part royalty.

You'll never have to be covered in dirt. And you will have all the time in the world to admire the cerulean skies.

"The prince is coming this year!" the girls chortle giddily.

They're the fifteen-year-olds who hope to snag a chance in the ceremony. You are indifferent to them and their gossipy antics. But the rumor of Prince Jungkook coming does make you straighten your back and stand in your best posture. It's not often the prince comes out in public—his parents raise him as if he is a fragile diamond. Prince Jungkook is their only child, after all. To be frank, you don't think you've ever seen him before in person. But you've heard of him and his devilishly handsome looks.

The easy key to the royal family might be to catch the eye of the prince. If the village rumors are true, he is looking for a wife. Self-consciously, you smooth out your only dress, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves to get rid of the bare strands of thread. The dress is brown. The color of the mud. The dirt. The dust. Consequently, it is also the color you see most often. The color you absolutely despise.

But you try not to let it affect you very much. With your head held high and an alluring smile pasted on your face, you try to act like royalty as much as you can. The other girls are starting to gossip about the last chosen girl. You forgot her name. But she was a beautiful, pale-skinned, daughter of a poor widow; a girl who was notorious for sitting in the house and weaving all day. She (the natural beaut) caught the eye of the king last year. And so she was paraded away in the royal carriage and straight up into the castle.

No one's heard of her since.

In fact, none of the chosen girls ever visit the village again. Of course they don't. Who wants to see dirt after seeing gold?

The girls' chortling grows louder when the familiar carriage rolls up at the very end of the two lines everyone is ordered to stand in. You hold your breath as the inhabitants of the vehicle step out.

The king emerges from the carriage first. He looks regal. A bit older than he was last year, of course, but he's aged like fine wine. The royal crown sits on top of his white head, bedazzled in blue jewels and shining diamonds. He murmurs a few sharp words to the knights behind him, and they immediately dart forward to carry the train of the king's long mantle. The king huffs, nodding in approval before dusting off the bit of dirt that had fallen at the side of his clothes. Then, he turns, calling for someone else inside the carriage.

True to the rumors emerges Prince Jungkook. He's breathtaking. Twenty-two years old. Fairly young. Handsome. Tall. Fit. Majestic. He bears no crown on his head but instead a dainty, silver circlet. His warm, chocolate eyes make you want to melt. And when his face hits the glint of sunlight, his silvery, dangly earrings gleam, drawing your eyes to his neck, where a delicate necklace rests—a sun-shaped pendant that lies between his collar bones. When you've admired his jewelry enough, your eyes trail back up to his face. His lips are colored with just a dash of light pink and his cheeks are flushed with a rosy tint. Gods, his jawline...

You find yourself staring.

Until he meets your eyes. Gasping in shock, you would've looked away immediately—if he hadn't expressed interest in you too. But he does.

The prince's soft doe eyes scan your face, and the corners of his lips lift into a subtle smile. He gazes into your wide eyes, his own pair sparkling in the warm sunlight. He doesn't look at anyone else. Only walks toward you.

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, and you stay frozen still. This is it. This is it!

You hold your breath.

But Jungkook doesn't spare you a second glance; at the last minute, he turns away from your direction with a barely noticeable crease on his forehead and he occupies himself with looking at his other options.

You let out a deep breath in time with your plummeting heart.

You're beginning to think your mother is right. Why did you think this year would be any different? You weren't chosen for six years straight. What made you think you'd be chosen this year?

You dejectedly sigh, gripping the sides of your dress as you stare at your dirt-covered shoes. Maybe you weren't pretty enough for Prince Jungkook. He did frown as he walked away from you. Ha. And you thought you'd caught his attention.

Pathetic. Maybe he was marveling at how filthy you looked, though you thought you made a good attempt of scrubbing all the dirt and dust off of your face. Maybe you missed a spot on your arms?

I hope they choose someone and go. You're already starting to dread the spiteful words that will spill from your mother's mouth when you come back home. Unchosen. Abandoned.

That's when you see a shadow overlapping your feet, turning the tops of the dirt-covered surfaces even darker than they already are. Your breath hitches when you look up to see the king of the Cerulean Kingdom staring right at you. Nearly wobbling over, you force yourself into a deep curtsy, keeping your head hung down. "Y-Your majesty."

"Her," the king mutters, motioning to the knights who had accompanied him. "You," he says. "Your name?"

"Y/N, your majesty."

"Y/N!" the king warmly smiles. He reaches out but does not touch you. With your eyes wide and heart temporarily stopped, you wait for him to utter the words you've wanted to hear your whole life. "You are chosen," he declares, clapping his hands. The other girls, though clearly disgruntled, clap along politely.

Your head spins. Suddenly, the heat of the once warm sunlight feels scorching, beating down on your head, and the roaring applause makes your knees nearly give out. You've never been congratulated for anything in your whole life.

The king gestures to you in a paternal way, his eyes, though wrinkled, offering you a welcoming smile. "Come, my child. We must get you ready for the celebration of your inclusion to the royal family."

"O-Oh," you gasp when the knights take you by the arms and start to march away. "Oh!" Your eyes light up as your heart feels like it's about to leap out of your throat. Amidst your happiness, you manage to remember your manners. "Thank you, your majesty! Thank you!"

"No, thank you, child," the king answers grandly. "For you will contribute great things to our kingdom."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook staring at you. A frown is etched on his face.

You have never been surrounded by this much luxury in your whole life. The castle walls are made of white marble. The floors stretch on with off-white tiles and the velvet curtains cascade down to the ground, letting the floor-length windows bare. You stare out of them and up to the clear, blue sky.

Immediately, some maids dressed in pale blue usher you away to a bathroom that is larger than your home back in the village. They scrub the dirt that had eternally been embedded in your skin and wash and condition your hair with soaps and fragrances that smell of blossoming flowers. Then, they bathe you in rich oils that feel too smooth for your skin. You are buffed and shined until when you look at yourself in the mirror, you look like a goddess.

"You will be wearing blue, miss, to honor the emblem of the Cerulean Kingdom," a maid tells you. "And there will be a party held in your honor later tonight."

You can only nod your head, dazed and slightly giddy. The thought that you will be living like this for the rest of your life puts you to the heavens. You won't ever have to hunch over and work in the dirty fields ever again.

It is precisely at 6 o'clock when the celebration begins.

You're escorted to the very edge of the stair steps of the royal courtyard where the party awaits for you at the very bottom. In your sky-blue dress and your hair up with pure-white ribbons, you blend in with the sky.

Men line up to dance with you. The music is lively, only enhancing the entertainment as your feet never cease moving. You never get to learn the names of these men either. They seem to come and go. But you don't mind.

Everything blends in bright colors and happy faces. When the sky turns black, the party turns livelier than before; the stars that had once adorned the night sky are hidden away when they start the fireworks. You've had too many glasses of an amber, bubbly liquid and had one too many dances with merry, attractive strangers.

The white slippers around your feet start to dig uncomfortably in your heels. So you throw them off to the side and continue to dance. The curls in your hair have died down and you've lost some of the white ribbons somewhere, but you don't care. You're the life of a party.

You dance until one o'clock when there is barely anyone left except old men and women who hardly look up to vigorous dancing. That's when you wipe the sweat off your brow and take a deep breath. The night air is refreshing, and now that the fireworks have stopped, the sky looks empty. But even so, the castle twinkles in the moonlight.

You find your white heels under a bush and take both in one hand, walking to the edge of the castle walls and looking out to the village that you had just left today. The Cerulean Kingdom rivals its day-time beauty in the night.

There's a piece of white ribbon that keeps trailing across your back, so you tug it out of your hair and admire it in your hands. It's the purest, silkiest piece of material you've ever held in your life, glowing in the darkness as the delicate ends of it flutter in the night breeze.

You exhale, your breath slightly trembling. A small part of you feels guilty for leaving your mother to fare without you while you bask in these luxuries. But you wave the guilt away. I'll just request for food to be sent to the family. Besides, you were chosen. You belong here, now. Staring up at the sky... Lavishing in regal parties... You shouldn't feel guilty about it... right?

It's a miracle on your part—from peasant to royalty. How funny luck works. I better go to sleep to really test if this isn't just a dream. You're just about to turn around and head to your expansive bedroom when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

Whirling around, you see the prince.

Without a second thought, you drop down in a low courtesy. "I-It's a pleasure to meet you," you stutter, "your highness." You're slightly wary, especially since at the Choosing Ceremony, he hadn't spared you a second glance. If you close your eyes, you can probably see him frowning at you again.

The prince gives you a slight nod so you stand up straight, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your rather disheveled state.

"I saw you at the Choosing Ceremony," Prince Jungkook says. He pauses, gazing at you from under his thick lashes. "You're beautiful."

You flush. "Thank you, your highness." It makes you wonder why he didn't pick you himself. Or why he frowned at you.

"How do you like it here so far?" the prince inquires, stepping closer to you. You notice that he maintains heavy eye-contact with you, and feeling flustered more than ever, you almost stumble backward.

"I-It's amazing, your highness," you manage to say. "The sky," you breathe, gesturing to the black emptiness above you, dotted with nothing but the twinkling stars and the shining moon, "has never been this beautiful."

Prince Jungkook smiles. He steps forward again, making your breath hitch. Seamlessly, he takes the white ribbon out of your hand. "Oh, there are things that are more beautiful than the sky, darling."

"O-Oh?"

He turns you around wordlessly, softly taking the strands of your hair and tying the ribbon back in. "Follow me, dear," he whispers, taking your hand.

And he leads you away in the darkness. Careful step by step, you're taken away from the royal courtyard and into the back gates of the massive castle. The more you walk, the better it feels to be out in the dark with only the moon and prince to guide you. It's starting to smell nicer too—a nice, natural scent from flowers and trees.

Prince Jungkook stops walking, smiling gently as he looks ahead. You follow his line of sight. "This," he announces proudly, motioning his hands across the expanse of the beautiful green flourished with blue and purple light, "is the royal garden."

Oh, gods. He's right. The garden is absolutely enchanting.

The flowers glow in the moonlight, twinkling almost as dazzlingly as the stars in the sky. Soft blue light rains down on the water lilies next to a pond. There's a quiet sound of trickling water, and you turn your head to follow the noise. When you see it, you gasp.

"A water fountain!" You point excitedly at the majestic stream of blue-lighted water falling into a shallow pond.

"Would you like to dip your feet in there?" Prince Jungkook smiles. "They must awfully ache."

You turn to him in surprise. How did he know...?

"Darling, you have quite the stamina," he laughs and it sounds like shimmering silver chimes. "You were dancing all night, weren't you?" He points at your slightly swollen feet as if showing you proof.

You duck your head down. He's right, your feet are probably going to be sore tomorrow morning. But... "Your highness, I didn't get to dance with you."

The prince chuckles. "I don't like public events. I rather stay inside and watch."

He must be sick of them. After all, he was born into this life, unlike you.

"It's much quieter here, isn't it?" the prince says. He cautiously takes your hand, leading you into the pond. The water is refreshingly cool and so clean that you can see your feet. "I come here often."

"I can see why, your highness," you breathe, marveling at the clear waters and the beautiful lights that surround you. Everything is beautiful. Even the people. You steal a glance at the handsome prince.

His lips are parted, water droplets from the fountain cascading down his chiseled face. His eyes gaze up at the night sky. "You'll have the best time around here," he tells you.

"Thank you, your highness."

The prince grins, looking sideways to stare fondly into your eyes. "We'll become well acquainted."

Your heart leaps in your chest. The prince! Is! Interested! In! You!! "I hope so, your highness."

"So I'd very much like it if you can call me Jungkook."

Your eyes widen and you glance unsurely at the prince who casually sits next to you. But he doesn't take back his statement so you believe he's being serious. "O-Oh," you stutter. "Of course, your h—I mean, um... Jungkook."

The prince laughs. "I look forward to meeting you again... Y/N."

"M-Me too, Jungkook."

The young prince smiles to himself. "I'll see you tomorrow."

It isn't a question, but a bold promise.

You sleep in a grand, mahogany bed with a soft mattress and warm covers. It's the best sleep you have ever had in your whole life.

Waking up with the birds chirping outside and the sunlight beaming in the room is something you can definitely get used to. When you turn your head, there is a bouquet of flowers on your nightstand that definitely wasn't there the night before. You pick up the bouquet and smell them. Roses.

A smile stretches across your lips when a note drops out amongst the sweet flowers.

Meet me in the garden for breakfast.

You don't have to be a genius to find out who that handwriting belongs to. There's only one person who knows you've been to the castle gardens. The prince. And he's waiting for you at the bottom of the steps.

"You look beautiful," he compliments, nodding at your royal blue dress and taking your hand. "I see you received my gift."

You clutch the bouquet of roses in your hand. "Thank you, Jungkook. I love them."

"My pleasure," he says, squeezing your hand. "Come, darling, I've arranged a picnic for us." He begins to lead you away into the depths of the royal garden and you follow him, entranced by his voice, his charm and his face.

Sure enough amongst the healthy bushes and towering trees and blooming flowers is a little white blanket spread out. On it are plates full of all kinds of delicious pastries. You drool just by the sight of it.

Jungkook laughs when he sees you subconsciously licking your lips.

"I wasn't sure if you liked fancy pastries, but now I'm not so worried anymore."

You're broken out of your hungry trance and you giggle. "Well, I've trained myself to eat anything in the village, so you won't have to worry again."

"Anything??"

"Um..." you pause, thinking heavily. "Well, maybe not anything. I've refused bird carcasses, caterpillars, spiders..." you trail off, becoming self-conscious as Jungkook starts to shift uncomfortably in his seat. "Sorry," you apologize sheepishly. "Probably not a great image to paint before eating this, right?"

"It's okay. I don't mind," Jungkook soothes. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry... I didn't know the village was like that."

"Not all of the village." You shrug. "Just the poorer part."

Jungkook's cautious, his head dipping down and his voice raising an octave as he asks, "W-Were you a... um, part of the, uh, poorer sector?"

"Well... I guess," you admit, awkwardly fidgeting with your hands. "I mean, objectively, yes."

"Objectively?"

"In my head, I was already here, in this castle, watching the blue skies without anyone having to nag at me to work." You giggle, gesturing toward the open sky and sighing. "And now I'm not so in my head anymore."

Jungkook laughs. "You can have all the food you want here. And also look at the sky for hours without distractions."

"And I even get you to talk to!" you exclaim. "It's like I've reached paradise... Though," you pause, "you probably think I'm overreacting, maybe."

"I'm used to that reaction."

You raise your eyebrows but don't say anything.

"I know what I have is a privilege," the young prince says slowly and surely. "And I'd give anything to find the courage to spread the wealth evenly..."

"When you become king—"

"It won't matter," Jungkook interrupts. "It never does. I won't be king for years. And by the time I am crowned king, I'll probably rule just like my father."

"Well, I think your father is fair."

"Really?"

"He's the reason I'm here!" you laugh. "Jungkook, he chose me at the Choosing Ceremony!" While you didn't, you want to add. But you don't. "He's generous, Jungkook. I admire him. If you rule just like him, I don't think there will be any problems."

Jungkook stares at you for a very long time. You start to squirm under his gaze.

Then the prince seems to shake out of thoughts and sighs. "I suppose so..." But there's something about the way he says it that you don't think he actually 'supposes so' at all. And then there's another long pause before: "Let's pray to the gods and enjoy our breakfast."

Jungkook clasps his hands together and closes his eyes shut tightly. Though you've never prayed before, you follow his actions, only opening one eye to see him murmuring prayers underneath his breath. It occurs to you that you don't even know how to pray.

And you're not very sure if the gods even exist.

But you stay silent and respectfully wait until Jungkook opens his eyes. He grins at you, holding up a pastry. "The god of sky blessed this meal for us. Especially for you."

"O-Oh. Thank you..." You take the pastry, marveling at the way the fruit sits perfectly on a well-toasted piece of... bread?? You're not even sure what that is, but it looks delectable. "I'm honored. Really."

"Go on, try it," Jungkook says. He doesn't touch the food, waiting eagerly for you to take your first bite.

So you do, careful not to take a large bite that will end up in you embarrassingly spilling crumbs and fruit pieces everywhere. Immediately when the fruity, tarty taste hits your tongue, your eyes light up. "Oh, gods," you groan, chewing slowly before swallowing. "This is amazing."

"Have as much as you want," Jungkook urges. "And then we can go to the kitchen later for lunch," he offers. "We have cakes and chocolate and candies there."

"Yes, please!" The thought of more delicious pastries and baked goods makes your mouth water—even with good food right in front of your face.

"Or I'll just give you a tour of the whole castle," Jungkook hums. "A different room every day. How does that sound?"

The crown prince! Giving you a private tour! He's really turning out to like you! Maybe the gods are really up there. "That sounds amazing, Jungkook!"

The prince smiles proudly. "Usually, I don't like to subject myself as the tour guide but..."

"But?"

"But I have a feeling we'll get along well."

After an extended breakfast, you and the crown prince walk around the gardens, talking and talking until your stomach growls embarrassingly loud. Jungkook had been telling you about the worst tutors he'd had in the castle and how he had pranked every single one of them. To see him reveal the sillier side of himself is adorable—and quite hilarious.

Under his formal, prince-like behavior is a young adult who is oblivious to the outside world; he's been stuck inside the protective walls of the castle for twenty-two years—of course the only problem he'd know is an intolerable tutor. You don't blame him.

It doesn't really matter when the prince is kind. He makes sure to ask you questions about yourself, but you much rather talk about his life, instead. Jungkook catches on fast, and he's been talking about his annoying tutors ever since.

You're actually sad that the fun conversation about Jungkook's heinous geography tutor has to come to a stop because of the rude interruption from your stomach. But Jungkook offers something even better than a story:

"I think it's time for a trip to the kitchen, darling." He grabs your hand and the two of you dash, side by side, back inside the castle. The open double doors reveal a massive kitchen that boasts hundreds and hundreds of royal chefs and bakers—both dabbling in their specialties of savory food and the sweets. The sight and gods, the smell overtakes your senses.

"Oh my gods."

"Right?" the prince grins. "The best bakers in the kingdom live in the castle to bake for us. Look!"

Jungkook resembles an excited child—his cheeks are flushed as he practically dances around the kitchen. "Come on!!" he exclaims, showing you around the massive kitchen and letting you taste-test everything. By the time you leave, you feel like you've gained fifteen pounds and acquired an extra stomach. You and Jungkook are both covered head to toe in flour as well.

"Well, you're quite the sight," Jungkook laughs, gently bopping your nose. He wipes a bit of flour off your chin, his fingers lingering. He coughs politely, drawing his hand away almost sheepishly.

"Thank you," you say, smiling. "But you're quite the sight too!"

Still, you have to admit, something about the prince's disheveled hair and the streak of flour across his cheek is adorable. You would've reached forward to clean him up but Jungkook beats you to it, quickly rubbing his arm against his cheek and subsequently getting rid of the flour stain. He even looks embarrassed about it too.

"Want to wash everything down with wine?" he suggests, shrugging casually. "I'll take you to our cellar."

"Wine!" It's a delicacy you've never had the privilege to try. The day keeps getting better and better.

"I'm assuming that's a yes." The prince takes your hand again and the two of you run down the empty halls of the towering castle. You pass by countless open doors, each promising a new world upon entering. A library, a drawing room, a theater room, a swim room (topped off with a hot tub too) and hundreds and hundreds of guest bedrooms (where the other chosen girls must be)... However, there is one door, you notice, that is locked with heavy chains from the outside. It looks like you'd need a key to get in. Which is strange, considering all the other rooms are open for access.

But your wondering is cut short when Jungkook halts to a stop in front of an open door that leads to what looks like the royal cellar. You squint, trying to get a glimpse at the bottom of the seemingly endless stairs. "Watch your step," Jungkook says in his dulcet tone, holding your hand as he guides you down a rather dark staircase. "The room's dimly lit, but it's worth being in the dark." He turns around to smile. "Wine has a way of relaxing you."

"I'm already the most relaxed I've been in my entire life!"

Jungkook laughs. "Fantastic. Keep that up, darling."

But the prince is right. You thought you were relaxed until six sips of a burgundy-colored liquid, and you've proven yourself wrong. Your head feels like it's resting on the clouds. Jungkook's equally relaxed as you, his legs spread out in front of him (a posture that his nanny would kill him for) as he has a lazy arm around your shoulder. Instinctively, you lean into his chest, letting out a soft whine of approval when he begins to pet your hair.

"Usually I drink by myself," the prince confesses in a low but mellifluous voice. It's almost as addicting as the deep garnet wine left in your crystal glass. "It's nice to have company."

You can smell the wine on his breath when he speaks. Nodding leisurely and pensively, you take another slow sip. "But one day you'll meet a princess from far away and you'll drink with her," you reply thoughtfully. "You're charming. And she'll be charming too. You'll do more than enjoy her company."

Jungkook laughs. And this time, it doesn't sound like silver chimes but dreamy, drawn-out heavy bells. "I'm not going to marry a princess," he snorts. He deliberately runs his fingers through your glossy tresses, shaking his head in denial. "There's nothing outside the kingdom except barren wasteland, darling."

If you weren't so relaxed, you'd think this was bigger news. But you merely laugh, nodding your head drunkenly. "Interesting."

"Quite so," Jungkook draws out slowly. "Well," he hums, pausing dramatically. "There are two neighboring kingdoms. But they don't call themselves that. It's a shame. No kings, queens... no royalty of any kind. They worship nothing. Heartless souls."

"Heartless, yes, heartless," you agree passionately.

Jungkook smiles. "Heartless, indeed."

You reach for your wine glass again but Jungkook stops you. "Come, let's get you to your room. I think you've had enough to drink for today."

"But—"

"We'll have some more tomorrow, darling. How does that sound?"

You nod eagerly. Jungkook looks at you fondly before helping you walk up the stairs and guiding you toward your bedroom. You collapse on your bed, handings splayed on your stomach.

Jungkook sits down at the edge, watching your face unabashedly. A giggle erupts from your lips so suddenly, the prince jumps.

"Jungkoo?"

The prince smiles at the new nickname. "Yes, darling?"

"Will there ever be a new queen?"

"Maybe," he slurs. "Not in a long, long time, though."

"Hmph."

"Why?"

But when you don't answer, Jungkook looks over to find you asleep. He'll have to call over some maids to cook you some hot soup for dinner—if you awake by then, that is. The soup will surely make you feel less queasy. And it's Jungkook's job to make you feel safe around here. As long as you don't ask too many questions, you'll be happy until the day you die.

He carefully tucks you in bed, letting your hair splay around your head in a neat circle. You'd called him Jungkoo. His heart leaps in his chest with the memory. The prince has been trained to stay rigid, regal, formal. He's not supposed to chase after a village girl, but even the gods can't stop him from liking you.

As of now, that is.

It is morning when you wake up to the smell of something delicious. A steaming hot bowl of soup and neatly cut slices of avocado sit on a tray on your nightstand. Though your eyes feel a little dry and there's a mysterious thumping in your head, you seem to have had a good night's sleep.

The breakfast in bed is delicious as expected. But now, you're not too sure what to do. Yesterday, Jungkook had written a note for you. Today, there is no such note anywhere in your commodious bedroom. So you dress in a pastel blue gown, fix your hair with a single white ribbon and begin to wander around the castle by yourself.

I figure I have to get used to this place. I'll be living here for the rest of my life.

There's a part of you that wants to meet the other chosen girls and see how they've been living in wealth. But another part of you wants to find the prince.

Since Jungkook's nowhere in sight, however, you end up knocking on all of the guest bedroom doors in hopes of finding a friend. Soon, it occurs to you that none of the girls are in their rooms. The castle is vast so they must be relaxing in some of the other commodious chambers the royal family has to offer.

It doesn't really matter, anyway.

Alone time is much appreciated too. The ceilings of the hallways are made of glass, letting the morning light flood in and bounce off of shiny decorations, making everything sparkle. You stare at the blue sky in awe.

The gods have blessed the kingdom with clear skies and good weather for years. It's no secret the royal family worships them. You, on the other hand, never had the luxury to worship anything when you lived in the village. Maybe Jungkook can teach you a thing or two about praying to the gods so you can finally thank them for creating something so magnificent.

When the sun starts to sting your eyes, however, you're forced to look away from the ceiling. Your eyes fall upon the locked door you had seen just yesterday. The chains look daunting, almost challenging you to a match. As if in a trance, you walk towards it, hands grazing against the silver doorknob. You suck in a breath.

There's something behind those doors. Something grand. An enigma for now, but maybe you'll find out later. You place your ear against the surface of the white door, trying to listen for anything that might be inside the mysteriously locked room. But all you hear is the light whispers of the wind. Inside, there must be an open window. Which means the sky would be in view.

Interesting...

"Darling, step away from the doors, please."

You gasp, stumbling back several steps upon Jungkook's soft but stern demand. His eyes morph from narrow slits to his normal, alluring doe eyes. "O-Oh! I didn't see you there."

"Of course you didn't," the prince soothes. He grabs your hand. "Come, let's enter the library. I have wine waiting for us there."

"Ooh, wine." But a frown morphs across your features. You look up at the handsome prince curiously. "Why are those doors locked, Jungkook?" He's being so defensive all of a sudden.

"Behind those doors is the sky room," the prince says. There is a cold tinge to his voice that makes you flinch. "The ceiling is wide open and the floor is flat with gravel."

He seems done talking, but he hadn't answered your question. "But—"

"Let's go to the library," he interrupts. You don't protest when he begins to drag you away. After all, you have years and years to figure out that secret. And right now, wine sounds very promising.

Everything is hazy again. Wine on your tongue and ancient texts in your head—it's quite a new feeling.

You and Jungkook share a seat on a regal-looking couch with a book in one hand and a wine glass in the other. Reading isn't exactly your forte, though you do know how to do it. So after a few minutes of staring at the small-print texts, you switch to admiring the pictures. Jungkook pours you wine glass after wine glass until you've drunken more than half of the bottle.

"I think that's enough drinking for today," he tells you. Today, he's not slurring his words. You notice that his wine glass sits barely touched in his hands.

"I am relaxed," you sigh. "I love it here."

Jungkook smiles, setting down his drink and book to wrap his arms around you. "Th-That's... That's wonderful."

You're so drunk you miss the way he stutters.

It's important that you stay relaxed here for the rest of your stay. Jungkook wishes he could do something... anything to help. But he can't mess with fate and what the gods have ordained for the kingdom.

"Do the gods really exist?" you mutter.

The prince jumps. It's almost as if you've read his thoughts. "Of course they do," he answers automatically. "They are the ones who help the kingdom prosper."

"If the other... neighboring kingdoms don't worship the gods..." you trail off, lazily reaching for Jungkook's sun-shaped pendant and playing with the necklace chain. "Does that mean the kingdoms... don't prosper?"

"Yes," the prince answers. "It might as well be a barren wasteland."

"That's unfortunate," you huff. "They should worship the gods."

Jungkook places a hand on top of yours, causing you to pause fingering his dainty necklace. "They should..."

But internally, Jungkook's glad they don't.

You giggle, blinking slowly as you unknowingly bat your eyelashes at the prince. He's trying to maintain self-control, watching you slowly drag your tongue across your lips to taste the remnants of the wine.

"Jungkoo..."

"Yes, princess?"

The nickname has you soaring. "You... At... at the Choosing Ceremony..."

Jungkook gulps. He knows what you're going to try to talk about. And while you're drunk, which saves you a lot of embarrassment and awkwardness, he isn't.

"You didn't choose me." Your lips pull out in a full pout. "Your father did."

"I am not allowed to choose," Jungkook says, petting your hair and holding you close to his chest. "It is not up to me."

It's half true.

But if Jungkook was given the chance, he'd stop his father from choosing you as well.

You wake up to a morning in a foreign bed that only smells familiar. Everything last night is still blurred in your mind. How did I get here?

"Darling? Are you awake?" Jungkook comes into view, holding a tray of pastries in his hands. He smiles at you charmingly, setting the tray down on the bed and sitting across from you. "You fell asleep in the library and my room was closer so..." he trails off, handing you a buttered croissant. "I hope you don't mind. I slept on the couch."

He also hopes you don't remember the conversation you had yesterday with him. He hopes you don't hold grudges against him for not choosing you. But maybe that thought is always at the back of your head. It's why you'd so suddenly brought that up to him yesterday. Being drunk on wine gave you courage.

"Oh..." you answer, rubbing your head. "Thank you, Jungkook." He grins when you take the croissant and bite into it. "Mmm!" you exclaim. "I'll never get used to the food around here."

From the looks of it, you don't remember yesterday's conversation.

Jungkook laughs with both relief and endearment. "So...? What do you want to do today? Something special?"

You chew thoughtfully on the pastry. "What if we just stay in your room?"

The prince frowns, making you wonder if you've crossed the line. "My room? Are you sure you don't want to go anyplace else? The stables... The pool... Not even the garden again?"

Of course, the offers sound welcoming but—"I just want to... rest."

Jungkook thinks you couldn't have chosen the worst timing. But he relents. He can't but let you do whatever you want. Especially when so many other things are out of your control. "Of course, darling. What would you like to do here?"

"I don't know!" you giggle. "Maybe... talk?"

"We've been talking for nearly three days!"

"I... um, don't exactly remember much from those conversations."

Right. You had been drunk. Thank the gods. Jungkook thinks conversation with you is easier when either one of you is drunk.

The two of you finish breakfast with leisure, laughing and giggling about childhood stories and memories. There is no serious talk—only happy tales and funny narratives.

The more Jungkook learns about you, the more he realizes how naïve you actually are. Almost as if the trauma you've faced in the village has activated a self-defense mode in you in which you close off reality and live in a bubble by yourself. But it's better this way. He wishes he were as naïve as you. Oblivious. Happy. Dreamy.

You talk about your mother—who wasn't really your mother, but a woman who adopted you so she could have an extra pair of hands on the field. A woman who would spend the day ordering you around and at night, send you back to the orphanage so she wouldn't have to feed you.

Not once do you explain this with a look of scorn on your face. You tell the story as if you're completely detached from it. Like it's a dark comedy. But you're safe inside your own bubble of comfort. Because in your own little world, you can look up to the bright blue skies. Depend on that to be your solace.

Thinking further makes Jungkook think about how unfortunate it is. Discomfort creeps up from his stomach to his throat, but he can't bring himself to say anything. So the two of you are left in comforting silence.

Then:

"I never got to thank you for keeping me company, here," you say, shyly, cautiously as if testing the waters. The prince smiles.

"Well, it's been a long time since somebody from the village offered good company," Jungkook confesses. "I don't normally come out of my room."

"So this must be like one of the other days..."

"It's better," he says. "Because I'm usually stuck here alone getting drunk."

"Why don't you like the other girls?" you ask. It's an innocent question that isn't laced with any malice or judgment. "You could easily spend time with them too."

"But I pity them."

"Pity?" You raise an innocent eyebrow.

"Yes." The prince doesn't offer more explanation.

"When can I see them?" you ask eagerly. "Maybe I can help you get acquainted with them."

If you weren't so excited, you would've noticed Jungkook flinching. "You may see them tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!"

"Yes..."

You turn your head to stare at Jungkook. He looks a bit lost, eyes glossed over and mouth set in a stern line. "Is something the matter?" you whisper. "Jungkook...?" You place a hand on his arm.

The prince shakes his head, blinking away his haze to look at you. "I'm fine, thank you, darling," he says. "Sometimes, don't you wonder though? What's really outside the Cerulean Kingdom? Beyond the barren wasteland, maybe?"

"No, not really." You laugh, shrugging. "I imagine nothing outside the kingdom."

"But in the slight chance that there is..."

"Are you suggesting we run away, prince? Have you forgotten your title?" you giggle.

"It is merely a title," Jungkook says. "Sometimes I want to escape this place."

"The beautiful skies? The perfect weather? You want to leave that?"

"Especially that."

You huff. "I wanted to leave the village to see the sky. And you want to leave the kingdom because of it."

"You'll understand soon," the prince says, his hand reaching out to play with your silky tresses.

"In a few years?"

"Tomorrow," he answers. His eyes gloss over again but this time, frown lines stretch across his forehead. But you don't see it. Too busy daydreaming about the morning skies and mulling over Jungkook's last words to notice.

If you had been attentive enough, you would've run away with him.

The rest of the day with Jungkook had been almost uneventful. The conversation had flowed easily and comfortably—especially after the prince introduced a new bottle of wine. He had let you fall asleep after pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, mumbling a slurred goodbye which you had accepted, not thinking it was that special at all.

To Jungkook, it meant so much more.

In the morning, you find yourself being shaken awake on your bed in your own room. The maids are urging you to get out of bed. When you reach for a midnight blue dress, they swat your hand away and replace it with a silky white gown that falls past your ankles and trails a few centimeters away from your bare feet. You insist on white ribbons in your hair, but the maids silently shake their heads. Instead, they style your smooth locks in loose curls that cascade down your back. They keep your face bare too, even though you would've liked a little bit of color on your lips and cheeks.

If you didn't know any better, you think they're trying to get you ready to meet the other girls. You didn't know the gathering would be so formal. Jungkook had glossed over the details the other day, so you're not too sure what to expect. Something tells you a delicious breakfast will be involved, though.

You wonder when you'll be able to see Jungkook. And even though it was hazy, you still remember the kiss he had left on your forehead last night. Will your relationship with him ever develop into something... more?

Your daydreaming is halted when the maids who usher you out of your room are replaced by knights in silvery armor. The swords laced into their belts are daunting, but maybe they're trying to keep you safe? They urge you down the beautiful hallways of the castle and stop right in front of the locked doors.

You look questioningly at the knights but their faces are hidden behind their silver helmets. "Are we having breakfast in there?" They don't answer. Biting your lip, you wait for the knights to unlock the door. When they finally reveal the room to you, you realize the Jungkook was right. This is the sky room.

The light breeze you had heard is a result of the ceiling that is nonexistent. The sky gazes back at you. The blueness of it is absolutely mesmerizing. You sigh out in complete contentment.

If you had been less naïve, you would've seen the crowd stands against the sides of the wall. You would've seen the chains bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. You would've seen the traces of dried blood on the rough gravel.

Your daydreaming is put to a screeching halt when the loud chattering of people behind to fill the room. People, the same people you've danced with at the celebration party, flood into the sky room with blank faces. They are dressed in sky blue—the same cerulean color of the sky. It appears you are the only one wearing white.

"Hello!" you try to greet them. "It's nice to see you again!"

The people grumble back their salutations, leaving you feeling a bit rejected. What is going on?

Almost as if the gods answered your question, Jungkook comes practically flying into the room. Immediately, you frown. He doesn't look too good. His usually glowy skin is pale and he looks sick. When the prince catches sight of you, he rushes to pull you into a firm hug.

"Y/N..." he breathes.

"Oh!" you yelp. "Is there something wrong?"

Jungkook doesn't answer, digging his face into your pure white dress. You notice he's wearing a tailored sky-blue suit with golden cuff links. Silver suits him much better.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers in your ear. "I'm so, so sorry... I wish it weren't like this."

You pull away from him, giggling. "Like what? Are you okay, your highness?"

Jungkook doesn't think the situation is funny. Instead, he grasps your hands and pushes them on his chest. You can feel how quickly his heart beats. "Y/N, darling... From the first look, I knew..."

"You knew...?"

"I-I'm sorry," the prince stutters. He desperately looks around. "I should've snuck you some wine."

You frown. It scares you that his usually composed aura is in shambles. "Jungkook...?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep—"

Before you can finish your sentence, you're ripped away from the prince. The knights forcefully pull you, your bare feet dragging across the gravel on the ground. Their disrespect appalls you for a split second before you holler a frustrated, "Wait!"

But they don't listen.

That's when you realize the people have gathered in their seats. The seats that surround you. Like they are an audience to a show. Suddenly, you feel vulnerable. As if your white gown is invisible and you're left bare for everyone to stare at and scrutinize.

Your protective bubble pops.

"W-What's going on?" you ask the knights. They're silent.

Instead, they force you on your knees, then push you so your back is against the uncomfortable gravel. "What's going on?!" you yell louder. Your voice seems to echo in the ceiling-less room. Nobody dares to answer. They all stare at you.

The clinking of metal makes you turn your head in shock. They have chains. You scream. When no one answers, you scream Jungkook's name. There are a few murmurs but no one comes to help you.

"Jungkook!" you shriek. "Please!" He watches with a pained look on his face. Unable to lose eye contact, he slowly backs away. Finally, he finds purchase on a special seat bedazzled with blue jewels. And he still watches, biting his lip nervously and clawing at his tailored suit.

The knights chain your limbs to the ground so you're left completely immobile. All you can do is look up.

That same sky you were barely able to gaze at for the first nineteen years of your life... it's all you can see, now. It's easily the bluest sky you've ever seen. For a slight moment, you're pulled into its beautiful trance again, momentarily pausing your struggling against the chains.

There is not a single cloud in the sky.

You are the only one in white in the vast sea of blue.

Your eyes shake when they catch sight of the paintings on the walls. There are graphic pictures—horrifying pictures—of death, blood and... the skies opening up with two outstretched hands. Dead girls with their internal organs spilling out. A cloaked figure holding up a bloody heart to the sky. The crowds mumbling their prayers.

Chills run down your spine.

That's when it hits you.

This is where you're going to meet the other girls.

How could I have been so foolish?

You're a sacrifice.

For the gods.

And when Jungkook said you were going to meet the other chosen ones, he had meant it. You'll surely meet the girls in the afterlife once you're dead.

You feel gutted. And you will be in a few minutes. A deep pain rings in your stomach as if they're ripping you apart right now. The sky looms over you sinisterly. You feel dizzy. Your ears begin to ring.

It's the feeling of betrayal. Tears sting your eyes as you struggle to look at the young prince. The glint in his eyes shows you that he's close to tears too, but he looks away before you can surely tell.

I trusted you, you want to scream at him.

But maybe it's not his fault, though. You weren't his choice at the Choosing Ceremony. He'd liked you from first look... but he hadn't chosen you on purpose. He'd walked away. He'd wanted to keep you safe.

Your attention shifts to the king of the Cerulean Kingdom who sits next to the young prince. There is not a single bit of remorse in his dark eyes. You want to wipe the smile off of his face. He had chosen you. Not Jungkook. He had brought you to your impending demise. Angry tears roll down the sides of your face. You thought he was being generous. You thought he saved you. But he was only putting you to death. A sacrifice for the good of the kingdom.

A man cloaked in a deeper shade of cerulean blue enters your line of sight. He holds a glinting dagger by his side. You suck in a breath. That was the man depicted in the paintings. He's going to kill you.

Your worst suspicions come true as he begins to recite in a piercing voice the offering of your heart to the god of the sky. The cloaked man thanks the god for another year of sunshine and blue skies.

You should've run away with Jungkook yesterday. Or you should've drunken some wine before this. Your senses are too sharp. You'll feel the pain when he rips out your heart.

I should've had wine.

Your eyes meet Jungkook's for a split second before you turn away. You should've run away with him. It's definitely too late now.

Everything he had told you makes more sense now. Why he wanted to explore the outside of this cursed kingdom. Why he didn't want to rule like his father. Why he couldn't possibly marry you—a sacrifice. Why he's so lonely... because he shouldn't get attached to the girls who will die in front of his eyes in three day's time. But he made a mistake with you. His curiosity and instinctive tendencies and your naïveness and blatant trust had been a recipe for disaster.

Now both of you are suffering from it.

But Jungkook is the least of your troubles now.

Your eyes begin to water again when the cloaked man brings up the knife above his head. It glistens and shines excruciatingly brightly. You're just seconds away from your death. Unless the process is slow. But you doubt even the king is that heartless to make you suffer.

You slowly move your head to the side where the cloaked man isn't blocking your view of the sky. The boundless, blue emptiness stares back at you. Mocking you.

This is the price you'll have to pay. You're finally giving what you owe for admiring the cerulean skies.

When you close your wet eyes, you aren't encompassed with a black darkness; bright blue light still filters through.

Gods, you wish to see anything but blue now.

—a/n: to read my behind the scenes thoughts/notes on this story, click here!

—masterpost

—masterlist

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9

- Chapter 10 -

Everyone did believe that Meng Yao had been robbed in love. It even got to the point that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen – both somehow taken by surprise by it, he had no idea how, given that it was so obviously the result he was aiming for – spent a great deal of time behind doors trying to make sure Meng Yao didn’t feel bad about it, which was very nice, if unnecessary, of them.

He assured them that he didn’t mind the gossip at all, but, well, if they were offering to spoil him…

More importantly, Wen Ruohan believed it, too, just as he’d hoped, and his belief that Meng Yao belonged to him was shored up to the point of being nigh-unbreakable, just as Meng Yao had intended. His comments on the subject, made in a small break during a Discussion Conference when Nie Mingjue was enduring a lecture from Lan Qiren, were sticky sweet and suffocating and revolting to the point that it tested even Meng Yao’s well-practiced façade.

Interestingly enough, Wen Ruohan didn’t seem to be jealous of the relationship, or even to mind its existence, as Meng Yao would have expected given his now years-long obsession. Unfortunately, he also didn’t stop his usual antics – which probably formed part of the basis for Lan Qiren’s lecture, come to think of it. He seemed to regard it as little more than a childish lark, a passing whim scarcely worth noticing; as if it didn’t matter what Nie Mingjue did because he knew, or thought he knew, how everything would end.

It was, Meng Yao reflected, the sort of thing that would drive a lesser man up the wall with rage.

Wen Ruohan did express a mild curiosity as to how far things between Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had gone, but luckily was just barely self-aware enough not to ask the supposedly jilted Meng Yao to find out more details for him.

As a result, Meng Yao was able to nod along with his recruitment speech without having to swallow back too much bile.

“You’ve always been very kind to me, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, his voice as sincere as he could make it. “I find that I’m often overlooked, given my status, though of course Sect Leader Nie’s needs must come first…”

“That is not necessarily true,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “You are just as worthy as he, with as many needs; are you not human, too? Why should you be the one overlooked?”

“Qinghe Nie values strength of arms,” Meng Yao demurred. “And mine is – lacking. There can be no comparison.”

“It must be difficult to be somewhere where you don’t fit in,” Wen Ruohan said sympathetically, as if he had any notion of such a thing. “Especially when you know there are places where you would fit in much better, if only you had a chance.”

Meng Yao heaved a sigh. “I have long ago given up hope of – other places,” he said, dropping obvious hints with his body language that the hope was merely dashed, not gone. “One should be content with one’s place.”

“Never be content with anything,” Wen Ruohan told him, his own voice slightly more sincere than usual, and it might be the only honest thing the man had ever said to him. His own personal motto, no doubt. He dropped his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should make more time for yourself – there are some areas in Qishan where you could go night-hunting to earn some glory, and I think you would find the game there to your liking. Especially, oh, around the end of the month?”

Meng Yao allowed himself a small victorious smile, and let Wen Ruohan think that he had convinced him that he had wanted the recruitment all along – a perfect catch, after years of setting out lures.

“That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” he said, and even meant it. “My skills have grown rusty, staying in the office so much…though I only fear I do not know the way. You know that Sect Leader Nie does not trust me at the border.”

He did, of course, but what would be the point of sending him there? Meng Yao’s skill was in logistics and management; while that was useful in active battle it would be utterly wasted in patrolling their well-armed borders to help pep up morale. But it was easy enough to make it appear to be a slight.

“You are capable of doing anything you put your mind to,” Wen Ruohan said encouragingly. “But you are right in acknowledging limits, and should not fear to turn to – capable guidance, when you find difficulty in finding your own way.”

Meng Yao lowered his eyes, full of triumph – for real, this time. “I am honored that Sect Leader Wen is willing to instruct me.”

Wen Ruohan patted him on the shoulder again, then went off his own way. Meng Yao turned to do the same, and abruptly saw Lan Wangji standing in the distance, looking out a window at the sky; it gave him a start, wondering if the younger man had seen. Hopefully not, or at least he’d hopefully know to keep his mouth shut – Meng Yao would have to go feel him out later.

The work never ended, he thought to himself with a sigh, and returned to Nie Mingjue’s side before his sect leader broke something trying to keep his mouth shut while talking to Lan Xichen’s uncle about righteous conduct, a subject on which the Lan sect seemed to think they had the final say and on which Nie sect principles were wildly and fundamentally different.

(Lan Wangji seemed to act the same as always when Meng Yao talked to him later – which was to say, virtually expressionless except for whatever it was that Lan Xichen claimed he could read in his posture, and still hilariously distractable with news of Wei Wuxian, who he’d met for all of a few months during the lessons in the Cloud Recesses that Nie Huaisang had finally passed – and that was a relief. The less Meng Yao had to think about what he was doing when he wasn’t actively doing it, the better.)

Getting permission – and publicly – to go out night-hunting was easy enough, since Nie Mingjue actively enjoyed slaughtering evil beasts for the good of mankind and thought that everyone else did too; he only needed to casually mention that it had been a while since he’d had time to go out to stretch his legs and Nie Mingjue immediately suggested that he go out on a night-hunt.

Convincing him not to come along with was slightly more difficult, especially when he mentioned that he’d heard some whispers of a demonic presence near the border with Qishan – Wen Ruohan was certainly demonic enough, in Meng Yao’s opinion – but with his position it wasn’t difficult to juggle the paperwork schedule to ensure that there was far, far too much work for Nie Mingjue to accompany him.

Arranging that Lan Xichen come to visit shortly before he left was an extra perk that Meng Yao included for both of them – for himself, getting to spend a wonderful day in the presence of someone infinitely more relaxing than Nie Mingjue, and for Nie Mingjue, getting to spend time on paperwork with someone infinitely more sympathetic than Meng Yao, who truly enjoyed the process of comparing long lists of received goods with each other to see if something was missing.

He’d miss Lan Xichen’s departure due to his night-hunt, but that was good, too – him going off to an atypical night-hunt would be understood by the majority of the cultivation world as a huffy retreat to avoid having to see his former lover and his superior together, and no one would think twice about it.

Once it was all set up, it was only a matter of waiting.

Wen Ruohan was confident in him, Meng Yao knew, and rightfully so: if he’d really been the person he’d been displaying in his presence since childhood, Wen Ruohan’s tricks would have snared him without question. A fool with an endless pit in his heart, greedy for affection and too stupid to be able to realize that no amount of glory would satisfy that greed, cunning but having no heart to see the bigger picture…dumb enough to agree to go meet Wen Ruohan, but smart enough to demand a measure of trust before he did.

A measure of trust – like the guide he’d insisted on.

Like the identify of whoever it was that had been so-cleverly dropping off all those letters, over all those years. Whoever it was had to have a considerable position in the Unclean Realm since the time Lao Nie had been in charge, and corrupted by Wen Ruohan since way back then; someone who had the freedom of the interior parts of the fortress, someone trusted, with good enough martial arts to avoid being spotted even when Meng Yao was specifically looking to identify them.

He’d run some tests and confirmed to his satisfaction that it seemed to be the same person each time, so there was only one high-level spy he needed to be concerned about – there were others, of course, but Meng Yao knew about those, and what he knew he could manage.

Or, well, Nie Zonghui could manage, he supposed. Nie Zonghui was technically the one in charge of managing personnel, or at least he was whenever he wasn’t stuck on some type of body-guarding duty – while they hadn’t shared classes due to the age gap between them, Nie Zonghui being older, Meng Yao knew that they’d had all the same ones, preparing them for much the same role. Between the two of them as advisors, Nie Zonghui was better suited for fighting and advising on situations involving imminent death, and they'd generally divided the work accordingly, but he was more than competent enough at managing spies and Meng Yao had handed the job off to him with great satisfaction. It worked very well.

Well, as long as Nie Zonghui didn’t turn out to be the traitor, anyway.

Meng Yao sincerely hoped he wasn’t. Nie Zonghui’s hobby was learning saber forms, and he spent all his free time on it to the point that he made Nie Mingjue’s training schedule look reasonable – Nie Mingjue was still the more powerful of the two, but only because he had ridiculously high cultivation for someone his age.

(That high cultivation had made his position as sect leader secure and allowed him to earn a name and a title and respect throughout the cultivation world, but Meng Yao wasn’t the only one that worried about how Nie sect cultivators died of qi deviation once they got too powerful. But Nie Mingjue was fairly stable for the moment, despite his rapid advancement, and Lan Xichen had devoted himself to trying to find a way to keep it that way – Meng Yao thought he might allow himself some room to hope.)

It turned out that the traitor wasn’t Nie Zonghui.

It was Wu Bixian, one of the army commanders, which was not quite as bad but only slightly.

Wu Bixian was from a smaller sect very close to Qinghe, a part of the Nie clan by marriage to one of the closer cousins. He was a good warrior, a tolerable commander, and had once had the occasion to save Lao Nie’s life in their youth together – he had been in a position of trust for a long time. He was wealthy, in the way most members of the Nie sect were with the sect’s treasury at their back and night-hunts to their name (Nie Mingjue’s comment as a child that the money ran free and easy once you started night-hunting wasn’t wrong) and he had a good wife, a few children, a saber of his own, moderately strong cultivation that was slowly gaining in strength…He had never shown any interest in acquiring more power than he had, no lust for domination, nothing like that.

He seemed content.

He was one of the ones that made snide comments about Meng Yao’s mother and had initially tried to refuse to take Meng Yao’s orders, even the ones that came straight from Nie Mingjue, until Nie Mingjue had personally told him to cut it out or else accept a demotion in favor of someone who could follow orders, but given how early the letters had started landing on Meng Yao’s desk, his betrayal must have happened far earlier than that incident and could not be the inciting factor.

Meng Yao had no idea what sort of things had Wen Ruohan offered to turn him, but whatever it was, he hoped Wu Bixian had enjoyed it while it lasted because he was going to kill him.

“It is kind of Commander Wu to take time out of his day to assist me,” he murmured, lowering his eyes to hide his rage even as his voice remained sweet and gentle.

“Sect Leader Nie wanted to make sure you were safe,” Wu Bixian said, and for half a second there Meng Yao wondered if it had been some sort of terrible miscommunication because he could see Nie Mingjue doing that, but then Wu Bixian continued, “I thought it would be good for someone like you to have a proper guide to teach you.”

If he had used anything like that language around Nie Mingjue, he wouldn’t have been allowed to come help, and that meant that Wu Bixian was in fact the right contact.

“I will follow in your footsteps,” Meng Yao said, still playing cautious. He saw a smirk steal over the other man’s face, smug and arrogant, and they left without another word between them.

With Commander Wu with him, finding a place to cross the territory line into Qishan without being spotted was easy – and worrisome, of course – and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the forest glade where Wen Ruohan was waiting for them.

His retainers had already set up a place for them to take tea, with him sitting above and them below, and even his traveling chair resembled the throne to which Wen Ruohan believed himself to be entitled.

Before they left the woods, Wu Bixian elbowed Meng Yao in the side, hard. “None of the backtalk you sometimes give Sect Leader Nie,” he instructed. “You ought to count yourself as very lucky that Sect Leader Wen has come himself to meet with you – he puts a high priority on the affairs of Qinghe Nie.”

That meant that Wu Bixian thought himself better than Wen Ruohan’s other spies in other territories, which were probably only good enough to report to a Wen disciple, or maybe Wen Xu if they were especially prominent.

Arrogance was good. Meng Yao could use arrogance.

He knelt in front of Wen Ruohan, giving him the deference he longed for – he’d only ever knelt to Nie Mingjue once, when he’d sworn an oath to him as part of becoming an official disciple of the Nie sect, and it had been outrageously awkward for them both – and Wen Ruohan smiled.

“You made a wise choice,” he said. “Qinghe Nie will not remain standing and independent for much longer. Only those that realize the truth will have a chance to influence the future.”

“Sect Leader Wen’s strength is undeniable,” Meng Yao said, because his mother taught him how to say the words that men wanted to hear. His mother as she used to be, before Sisi came back into her life and made her happy – his mother, who now spent some time being mistress of Qinghe, some time traveling, some time merely visiting other places with Sisi at her side; his mother, who asked him if he was happy with Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, who accepted his answer and sought to aid him as much as she could; his mother, who loved him, well if not always wisely. “I do not wish to be on a sinking boat when I could join the rising tide.”

There was a bit more of that, mostly mutual ego-stroking and puffery, but finally Wen Ruohan got to the point: “What is it that you want?”

“My rightful inheritance,” Meng Yao said, because it was the safest thing to ask for. He didn’t really care if Wen Ruohan got rid of Jin Guangshan, after all, and Nie Huaisang’s reports hadn’t been especially positive in regards to Jin Zixuan – Wen Ruohan would probably just disinherit him in favor of Meng Yao, and leave him alive to cause Meng Yao too many problems to have time to rebel. And it was much safer than asking for anything else. “The venerable Sect Leader Wen is above such petty matters as gossip, of course, but he undoubtedly already knows…my father…”

“The Jin sect is a pearl of great value,” Wen Ruohan said lazily. “Do you think your service can justify such a reward?”

“I am sure of it,” Meng Yao said, full of confidence.

“And there’s nothing else you want?”

Meng Yao hesitated, having not anticipated that question the way he had others, and Wen Ruohan laughed to see him. “I told you before not to be content,” he said with a smile Meng Yao did not trust. “You have chosen wisely to trust in the power of the sun, and in the heat of its rays, from the ashes of the old ways, too stiff in their rules to change, you will be rewarded with your heart’s desire.”

Meng Yao smiled. “I await your excellency’s benevolence with eagerness, to give me light where I have been blind.”

He bowed and took his leave, heading back to Qinghe with the heads of some fierce corpses to show as the results of his hunt – Wen Ruohan was thoughtful, in some ways – and left Wu Bixian behind to discuss further matters to which Meng Yao was still too new to hear: an excellent people management stratagem to whet Meng Yao’s jealousy of Wu Bixian’s position, while also assuaging any concerns Wu Bixian had regarding his primacy.

The second he was out of sight, he pulled Chiwen out of the qiankun pouch he’d tucked into his sleeve – sabers generally disliked small places like that, but Chiwen had always been extremely understanding of the indignities one had to suffer to achieve greatness – and threw him down, leaping on top of him and hurrying forward at break-neck speed, and even so he only just barely managed to catch Lan Wangji before he disappeared back into the woods.

(He hadn’t realized that Lan Wangji was suspicious at first, despite him having coming willingly to the Unclean Realm alongside Lan Xichen and being even less social than usual; it wasn’t until that very morning, when he’d murmured some denial about having plans for the day – and Lan Wangji always had plans for the day – that Meng Yao had realized that he might need to keep an eye out for a tail.)

Lan Wangji was stiff as a board, his hand already sliding to Bichen on his waist; Meng Yao ignored it.

“You need to go back to the Cloud Recesses,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

Lan Wangji paused. “Why?”

“Because Wen Ruohan is going to burn it down,” Meng Yao said flatly. “The Lan sect doesn’t have the ability to stop him, but if you go now, you can pack away your sect’s most valued treasures and hide them away somewhere safe before they do.”

“Why?” Lan Wangji asked again, still wary, only this time he meant why are you telling me this.

“Because you have to make sure Lan Xichen isn’t there,” Meng Yao said. “He’ll hate it and he’ll fight having to run away with every ounce of will he has, but he can’t be there – or else everything will be so much worse.”

“Sect Leader Wen told you?”

“He all but promised me Lan Xichen as a prize for my cooperation.” Lan Wangji flinched, and Meng Yao nodded grimly. “Make sure he has a safe place to go. The Nie sect will come to your aid, nominally, but the real purpose will be to make it seems as though the Wen sect has defeated two Great Sects in one blow – it will be devastating to the morale of the smaller sects, and convince many of them to just give in to Wen domination rather than fight back...listen, come up with whatever reason you have to in order to convince them, but don't explain where you learned of the information. You understand?”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly. “You plan to spy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Meng Yao said, because he was far beyond planning at this point. But he knew, as Lan Wangji might not, that the elders of the Lan sect would never listen to Sect Leader Jin's bastard son or Sect Leader Nie's aide, so recently jilted in love - they weren't like Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen, who would understand. “Listen, empty the Library Pavilion in advance, wait until they’ve started burning the other buildings, and then set fire to it yourself. If you defend it as if it’s full, maybe you can convince the Wen sect that they’ve done more damage than they really have.”

He shook his head – he’d been hoping to have more time, but the winds of war always came more swiftly than hoped. “Good luck, travel fast, and above all tell no one.”

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #135: Martha (Ruler)

Summer goes by so fast, doesn’t it? Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the last of the summer 1 servants, Martha! By the end of this build you too can punch a dragon so hard people on the other side get hurt.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Mana prism power make up!

Race and Background

Martha’s still a Human, but since this is a variant of her normal build this is also a Variant Human. That gives her +1 Wisdom, +1 Constitution, proficiency in Animal Handling if the Tarrasque gets too uppity, and the Crusher feat. That nets you +1 Strength, and once per turn you can move a large or smaller creature when you hit it with a bludgeoning attack. Also, dealing critical damage with a bludgeoning attack gives advantage to all attack rolls against that creature for a round. We haven’t even hit level one yet and you’re already breaking bones.

Like last time, you’re still an Acolyte, giving you Insight and Religion proficiency. I don’t think I have to explain why those skills are good for Saint Martha.

Ability Scores

Despite everything you’re still a woman of the cloth, so your Wisdom should be as high as possible. Like I said in the opening your punches pack a punch, so Strength is second. Third is Constitution. Your Natural Body means you can shrug off poisons pretty easily. After that is Dexterity, because if you’re going to fight in a bikini you’d better be fast. Your Charisma isn’t great, mostly because we couldn’t make everything an 18, but we’re dumping Intelligence. It’s not like the other summer servants will notice.

Class Levels

1. If you want to punch through a dragon, monk levels are a must. First level monks get Martial Arts, letting you make an unarmed attack as a bonus action after you attack with your main action. There’s monk weapons too, but we’re just here for unarmed attacks. You can also use your dexterity instead of strength for attacks, but we’re not gonna do that. You can also use your martial arts die when you make unarmed damage rolls, and it grows as you level up. You also get Unarmored Defenses, giving you an AC of 10+ your wisdom mod + your dexterity mod to help with the whole “bikini armor” thing.

Finally, you get proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as two monk skills. Athletics for a beach body, and History because you’re a servant, so duh.

2. Second level monks get Ki points, a number per short rest equal to your level, that you can spend to dash, disengage, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action. You also get Unarmored Movement, increasing your walking speed as long as you’re only wearing a swimsuit. If the other players ask, it’s absolutely necessary.

3. Third level monks seek out a monastic tradition, and we’re going for a real throwback this time- the Way of Tranquility will give us all the holy power we need, and eventually, fists strong enough to tame a dragon. When you set down the Path of Tranquility you can cast Sanctuary on yourself for free once per minute. Any creature that tries to attack you must first make a wisdom save (dc 8+your wisdom modifier + proficiency) or redirect the attack. The effect still ends if you make an attack, but creatures that break through the effect are immune for an hour. 

You also get Healing Hands, giving you the same effects as a paladin’s Lay on Hands, but you get 10 times your level in healable HP each long rest. You can also replace a flurry of blows attack with this feature when you use it. Slap your party back to life!

You can also Deflect Missiles, reacting to incoming arrows and the like to reduce the damage you take. If you reduce it to zero, you can also spend a ki point to throw it back as a part of the same reaction!

4. Fourth level monks can Slow Fall, spending a reaction to reduce damage taken from falling. You also get your first Ability Score Improvement, bumping up your Wisdom for a higher AC and stronger Sanctuary.

5. Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack each attack action, and can turn their attacks into Stunning Strikes by spending ki, forcing the creature they hit to make a constitution save or be stunned for a round.

6.  Sixth level monks have magical hands thanks to their Ki-empowered Strikes, letting them get around resistances. Tranquility monks also become an Emissary of Peace, giving you advantage on charisma checks to calm down people, as long as they aren’t deception or intimidation checks. You also get proficiency in the persuasion skill.

7.  Your Evasion supercharges your dexterity saves, meaning you take half damage on failures and no damage on successes. If you’re going to tame a dragon you’d better get good at dealing with fire breath. Your Stillness of Mind also lets you end charms or frightening effects on yourself as an action. Honestly, you’re kind of the one who does the frightening around here.

8. Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for stronger and more accurate attacks. Now we’re talking.

9. Your Unarmored Movement Improvement lets you run on water and up walls, as long as your turn ends on solid ground. Perfect for those long walks on the beach.

10. Your Purity of Body makes you immune to disease and poison. Ki manipulation is really similar to being a cleric, now that we’re looking at it. Ah well, just makes it that much easier to reflavor it.

11. Eleventh level tranquility monks can Douse the Flames of War, using your action to force a wisdom save on a creature you touch. It automatically doesn’t work if the creature’s missing any HP, but if it does work it can’t deal damage or force saves for a minute, or until it’s attacked, takes damage, makes a saving throw, or sees its allies do any of the above.

12. Use this ASI to grab the Tough feat for a free 24 HP, plus two extra every time you level up. If you’re going to brawl, you’d better be ready to take some hits. For the lord, of course.

13. The Tongue of the Sun and Moon means that you now effectively speak and understand every spoken language. I mean, yeah, I guess that is technically a power Jesus gave to people, so it kinda fits. It also means you don’t have to wait for the translations Type Moon is never going to do on most of their work, so I envy you.

14. Your Diamond Soul gives you proficiency in all saving throws, and you can spend a ki point to re-roll a failed save. Pretty easy to reflavor that as god’s favor tbh.

15. Your Timeless Body now suffers no negative effects of old age (not that there’s any to begin with RAW) and you can’t be aged magically. Honestly that’s a really good thing considering we’re still sticking to the bikini.

Also you no longer need food or water, save it for your guests.

16. Use this ASI for more Strength, so you can punch even harder and nothing else. Stronks are always valid. You also get one point of Dexterity for... later.

17. If you’ve read this far, you’re probably thinking, “Fateandphantasms you dolt! You forgot to make this build super good at punching!” Hahaha, wrong. The final ability tranquility monks get is the Anger of a Gentle Soul. If you see a creature take someone else down to 0 HP, you can use your reaction to gain a damage bonus against them until the end of your next turn. That damage bonus is equal to your monk level. You can use this once per short rest.

18. Now that you can finally punch a hole through a Tarrasque, it’s time to diversify. As a Fighter, you get a Fighting Style: The Mariner fighting style gives you +1 to your AC, and you get a climbing and swimming speed, the perfect fit for a deserted island.

You also get a Second Wind, healing yourself as a bonus action, but honestly your healing hands are probably better.

19. Second level fighters get most of the reason we came here, Action Surge! Tack an extra action onto your turn for extra punching!

20. If you really want to powergame I’d suggest taking echo knight here for the extra attacks, but we’re sticking to character here, so go the way of the Champion for Improved Criticals. Now you deal critical hits on 19s and 20s!

Pros:

There’s a reason this UA isn’t really used any more. Adding a +17 modifier to your attack damage for a round means you can do ridiculous amounts of damage in a very short time. Toss in that action surge and a flurry of blows and you’re dealing 6d10+126 damage. That can ko a couple of builds on this account before we even start rolling!

Having proficiency on every save, nearly permanent Indomitable, and near permanent Sanctuary means you can just kind of ignore enemies if you don’t feel like fighting them. That doesn’t even get into the fact that you can shut them down on a save too.

You have more healing than a paladin, and you can move 110 feet in a round to administer that healing. If someone goes down, you can probably be there to help them back up. Or just kill whoever did it, either or.

Cons:

As a stronk, your AC isn’t amazing. It’s not even that bad, but when you’re a frontline fighter who can explode without warning you’re doing to bring a lot of attention on yourself, and that bikini isn’t going to help you here.

Playing to character means you’re only using your fists, which have a range of five feet. Flyers are going to be an issue, as are any monks who stuck it out until at least level 18.

A lot of this build is dependent on really old UA, so odds are most DMs aren’t going to let it slide for your average game. Ah well, Summer’s almost over anyway.

[jenivi7]

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE!  Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories! 

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses. 

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch." 

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not. 

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair.  It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time."  Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention.  He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board.  "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.) 

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written! 

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

[blouisparadise]

Here are some great bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of June. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Until You’re Home | Explicit | 1039 words

Louis lives in London, Harry lives in Tokyo. They make it work.

2) He Holds My Paradise | Mature | 1332 words 

“What is it that you want, baby?”

“Your dick” Louis breaths out, choking on his own words, neck still covered by his boyfriend’s hand.

“And where do you want it, baby?” the Devil asks him, a satisfied smirk painting his lips. “in my pussy, please.”

3) Morning | Explicit | 1428 words 

Harry and Louis wake up and have a 'productive' morning in the shower ;)

4) Let's Go To The Beach | General Audiences | 1489 words 

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it. This is a sequel. Part one of this fic is #6 on this list. 

"Louis," Harry repeated.

"Right," Louis sighed. "He tried to scent me."

or the one where Louis has a meeting with an aggressive alpha and Harry calms Louis down.

5) Sweet Relief, Pretty Please | Not Rated | 1840 words 

Louis is drunk, sad and alone, and Harry is a wanker.

6) Hey Moon, Don't You Fall Down | Mature | 2574 words 

Note: The sequel to this fic is #4 on this list. 

"Make me yours," Louis opened his eyes and put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I'm ready, alpha, always been ready for you. Since the first day we met, I was yours. Please," Louis gasped as Harry slid his fingers out of him.

or the one where Harry and Louis finally bond.

7) Nothing Like Anything | Explicit | 2614 words 

Harry is bored of his frat parties. No one interesting comes anyway.It's always drunk people, grinding in the living room, strangers trying to catch his eye. He's about to leave, just to ease his pounding head when he sees him, sinful on the dance floor and suddenly the party isn't so bad.

8) Over Exposed - Part Two| Explicit | 2840 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

Harry and Louis take a quick break from Harry's tour to attend the VMAs, then have a night out at a club.

9) Sweet Vanilla Cream | Explicit | 2896 words 

Harry fights to resist his roommate's new omega boyfriend, Louis. Louis maybe doesn't want him to resist.

10) Take Off Your Glasses | Mature | 3742 words

Louis was enjoying his time, as he decided to spend his weekend clubbing, Louis knows no one in there, yet someone wanted to mess with him to know who's Louis the attractive boy in the black skirt.

"It’s Louie.. Sir."

11) Rose’s Fortune | Mature | 5055 words 

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut but since it’s a/b/o we’ve decided to include it in this monthly roundup.

Omega Louis takes one of his siblings to the doctors (check up, possible broken bone or possibly injections?) and the new Dr is Alpha Harry. Harry is great with kids and Louis is smitten. Harry is smitten too but attempts to act professionally and keep his distance whenever Louis visits the Drs with his siblings or to pick up his prescriptions. But Harry realises there is no reason for him not to make a move as Louis isn't under his care.

12) Dare You To Move | Not Rated | 6060 words 

The one where Harry falls in love with the omega who is the brain behind the omega march he joined.

13) Savage Garden’s Song Rules Sometimes (While Yours Always Reign Supreme) | Explicit | 6261 words 

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

The morning after one too many nights of isolation for Louis Tomlinson and his hot & dangerous boy.

Aka how insanely adorkable Harry Styles could be after a sulking episode. [wordplay edition]

14) I Can Feel Your Blood Pressure Rise | Explicit | 9292 words 

"Hello, your Highness," Harry heard a familiar voice coming from behind him. Chills ran down his body as he felt the coldness of something sharp poke the back of his neck, "Turn around slowly or I'll hurt you,” the voice said in a teasing tone.

Where Louis is some sort of Robin Hood and sneaks into the King's castle, only to be fucked hard.

15) You Know What They Say | Explicit | 10323 words 

Nice guys always finish last.

16) Teenage Dream | Explicit | 10333 words

Harry and Louis get reintroduced to each other by their friends. It’s an instant connection. Now they’ve just gotta get to know each other.

17) Move So Petty (You're All I See) | Explicit | 10548 words 

Harry’s pretty content with his life. He loves his job- a veterinarian at a local clinic who’s already built up a name for himself despite his young age. He loves his gorgeous flat with its wide, open space and minimalistic, yet still homey feel. He loves his family who he talks to and visits as much as possible, not bothered by the long hours of driving to Holmes Chapel from London he endures multiple times a month. He loves his friends and his coworkers and his neighbors- especially Allison, the little old lady next door who brings him and Louis cookies on holidays and who always comments on how “strong and handsome you are, Mr. Styles,” everytime he sees her.

And most importantly, he loves Louis, just- maybe in a slightly different way.

18) When Tomorrow Comes | Explicit | 11111 words 

The one where Louis is an Omega who has been keeping himself pure for his Alpha, Harry is a traditional Alpha focusing on his studies while he waits to find his bondmate, and Niall is a sneaky bastard who keeps borrowing Louis’ clothes and never returning them.

19) Smells Like Omega Spirit | Not Rated | 11769 words 

Note: This fic contains no explicit smut, but since it’s omega Louis, we’ve included it.

Louis is an omega doing a test run on neutralizers for a class project. Every time he talks to Harry he smells completely different.

Harry is an alpha who can't figure out if he's going crazy or his sense of smell is broken, but all he wants to figure out what Louis' real scent is.

Somehow they figure it out.

20) You Kill My Mind | Explicit | 13181 words 

Harry has always been ashamed to reveal his kinks to friends and partners alike. One day he meets a man who seems perfectly designed for him and they embark on a wonderful, sex-filled exploration journey.

21) In The Heat Of The Moment | Mature | 15743 words 

When Louis unexpectedly goes into heat in maths class it takes him way too long to figure out why (it might have something to do with a certain curly haired boy sitting next to him).

22) Was In No Hurry, Had No Worries | Explicit | 21485 words 

The year is 1999 and Harry can’t stop dedicating songs to Louis on the radio. Or the one where Harry hits Louis with his car.

23) You're The Smell Before Rain, You're The Blood In My Veins | Explicit | 21945 words 

“It was him you talked about, when you used to call me late at night, saying you were missing your ex? Was it him, your important five-year long story? Was it him the person you had thought about proposing, one day?” Nick asks with a low voice, almost inaudible, almost like he’s talking to himself “He’s my boyfriend…” he whispers again, without looking up.

“I know! And you shouldn’t worry, because you don’t have a single reason to do so. He’s yours now, he’s with you. I really don’t understand why you came here, honestly” Harry says defending himself out of instinct, even if he has no reason to react like that. He just- just wishes for Nick to leave his room and go back home to Louis. Because at this point Nick has Louis and fuck, why can’t he just go fuck off for once? Doesn’t he have enough shit do deal with already? Does he really need to get into this as well? Right now?

24) Like The Earth Around The Sun | Explicit | 23600 words 

The one where Harry bursts in on Louis in heat and things only get more complicated from there.

25) The Blood of Love | Explicit | 25273 words 

Harry is a nurse and Louis is a painting worth more than a thousand words. As desire and darkness encompasses him, Harry has to learn the secrets of Thorne Hills manor before he succumbs to the mystery that surrounds him.

26) Habit | Teen & Up | 27095 words 

In which Louis is a Donna who has a soft spot for alpha Harry.

27) Let Me Carry Your Weight | Explicit | 28633 words 

Louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

28) Robbers And Cowards | Explicit | 33237 words 

A modern day Robin Hood AU where Louis and Harry (don’t really) hate each other but they hate greedy billionaires more.

29) Caves End | Explicit | 39711 words 

The one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

30) Soaked In The Blood Of Angels | Explicit | 40867 words 

The boy looks drugged, caught between a man who’s almost twice his size and a girl who looks like she wouldn’t even break a sweat snapping him in half despite her small stature, eyes closed and mouth open as he pants, arching up between them almost as if he’s trying to escape.

Normally, Harry would ignore it and continue on his search for someone to drink from, someone who wouldn’t mind his sharp teeth and rough hands. He’s seen plenty of boys like this one, ones who picked the wrong playmates, and if he stopped to rescue every single one of them he would have died from thirst a long time ago.

This one, though. There’s something about this one, the sheen of his bright blue eyes as he blinks slowly, looks around as though he doesn’t know where he is, the weakness of his hands as he tries to push the girl off of him and make his escape.

31) With Stars Of Brightest Gold | Explicit | 41109 words 

Louis Tomlinson is the premier courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. In his dreams, he has always wanted to be a famous stage actor. Locked into his contract, he has little means of escape until a handsome duke promises him freedom with a romantic alliance. Due to a case of mistaken identity playwright Harry Styles is thrown into the mix, compelling Louis to choose between his head or his heart.

32) We Both Got Nothing To Hide | Explicit | 43811 words 

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

33) In A World Alone | Explicit | 50787 words 

Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him.

Because the swan is gone.

And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen.

A Swan Lake AU.

34) Hunting Ground | Not Rated | 583658 words 

Note: This fic is the third part of a series. Part two is #38 in this list.

Louis Tomlinson didn’t know how complicated life could be until he became a werewolf. And until he was mated to Harry Styles, the son — and enforcer — of Liam, the leader of the North American werewolves, he didn’t know how dangerous it could be either...

Louis and Harry have just been enlisted to attend a summit to present Liam's controversial proposition: that the wolves should finally reveal themselves to humans. But the most feared Alpha in Europe is dead set against the plan — and it seems like someone else might be too. When Louis is attacked by vampires using pack magic, the kind of power only werewolves should be able to draw on, Harry and Louis must combine their talents to hunt down whoever is behind it all — or risk losing everything.

35) The Wrath of the Emerald Eyes | Mature | 85205 words 

His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his lower lip.

His smile widens as he answers Louis' question, ''My name is Styles, but you will call me Captain."

Pirate AU.

36) Cry Wolf | Not Rated | 85205 words 

Note: This fic is the second part of a series. Part three is #36 in this list.

Louis never knew werewolves existed, until the night he survived a violent attack... and became one himself. After three years at the bottom of the pack, he'd learned to keep his head down and never, ever trust dominant wolves. Then Harry Styles, the enforcer—and son—of the leader of the North American werewolves, came into his life.

Harry insists that not only is Louis his mate, but he is also a rare and valued Omega wolf. And it is Louis' inner strength and calming presence that will prove invaluable as he and Harry go on the hunt in search of a rogue werewolf—a creature bound in magic so dark that it could threaten all of the pack.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[yocchannk]

If you are still alive can i request a yohariko 7 minutes in heaven? Yohane dom ofc

*i had to search up what 7mih was lol

setting: in university/college

ages: 15-20

Aqours looked on curiously at the beer bottle in front of them. 

“Uh, Mari..” Kanan said questioningly. “Are we playing Truth or Dare or somethin’?” Mari grinned, “Why no~ We’re in college, Kanan, we don’t play such baby games.” She said as if it were obvious. Dia puffed “Whatever you have in store will be worse..” “Aww you’re no fun Dia~” Mari stuck her tongue out, teasingly.

“What are we playing then?” Chika asked, toying with her braid boredly. “I think I know...” Yoshiko grumbled, laying down tiredly. “I don’t get enough sleep to deal with your shit...” You laughed, “Now now Yohane, no need to be a debbie downer.” She said to Yoshiko.

“The last time we played this you always rigged the game anyways, Mari! It’s no fair!” The other girls looked questionably at Riko who whined like a little girl, all thinking the same thing, “You’re gonna ruin my manicure.” Mari rolled her eyes at the second year. “Riko, why don’t you take care of the sleepy demon over there for a change.” The golden eyed groaned, walked over to the grumpy fallen angel, and sat on her.

“Get off me.” Yoshiko glared at Riko.

“I’m sorry, I don’t talk to weirdos.” Riko flaunted haughtily, paying more attention to her pink nails than the girl she sat on.

Yoshiko pushed her torso up, being the more well built person, easily sliding Riko into her lap for a change. “Shut it, bitch.” “Why don’t you do that yourself, idiot?”. The two glared at each other, then started arguing and cussing each other out.

Hanamaru and Ruby stared smugly. “They look like girlfriends!” “Yoshiko doesn’t even notice the position they’re in zuraa~” They murmured to each other, giggling. The other second years sighed, “What happened to the old Riko?!” Chika shouted, though Riko herself didn’t hear. “I know right?! This Riko is so mean!!” You screamed in equal exasperation, dramatically.

“I bet she just wants to impress Yohane, with all her make up and fashion trends.” Kanan teased, which Dia, surprisingly, nodded in agreement to. “Yesterday on campus I saw her mocking and arguing with a girl who just touched Yoshiko the other day. When did Riko become such an attention hog.. She was doing so well too..” Dia sighed. 

Unfortunately, Riko just barely overheard, and spun around to face them, not making much effort to get out of Yoshiko’s lap. “I am not trying to impress this freak.” She said, though her red ears showed otherwise. “I bumped into that girl and she spilled her drink on my shoes, she deserved it.” She smiled, almost believing she had won already. “That girl was Ayumu, excuse me. She has a name.” Yoshiko said matter of factly. 

Riko cocked her head around, her jaw clenched and her smile from earlier far more fake now. “So? Is she your girlfriend or some shit?” Riko said coldly, emphasizing the word girlfriend. Yoshiko looked confused, “Wait, what? When did I say that?” She asked, looking at the redhaired for answers.

She fumed furiously, either from anger or complete embarrassment for revealing her true thoughts to the minor. “Can we just play the stupid game already?” Riko asked aggressively, dodging the question. 

It worked, as Mari immediately sat down and clapped her hands promptly. “That’s right! We’re playing a game!” She remembered, to which the others rolled their eyes at. “The game is called 7 Minutes in Heaven! Basically we spin the bottle twice, and whoever it lands on has to go into the closet over there,” Mari pointed at the large closet that just barely would be enough to fit two people. “and stay in there for exactly 7 minutes, you can do whatever, like kissing.. Or making out..” She threw a look at her fellow Guilty Kiss members, “Or just talking! Everybody get it?” Mari finished with a question. Ruby raised her hand. 

“Ruby?” 

“If me and onee-chan get picked, does that mean we have to?” Mari shook her head. “You two can do whatever you want, but if you want, the only thing you can do at max is maybe hug.” Ruby nodded understanding.

“Anyone else?” No one. “Alright! >Let’s starting!!<” Mari shouted in her typical shiny manner.

Mari crawled over and spun the bottle excitedly.

It landed on Yoshiko and Riko, who both groaned in unison. To which the others giggled at knowingly.

The two got up without saying anything, Riko got in first, and then Yoshiko.

“They do know that the bottle probably was meant for only one of them, right?” Chika asked, giggling into her hand. The others laughed out loud and immediately hushed once the timer started.

--

“Fuck! Tsushima give me some space!” Riko whispered loudly, her face red as the back of her head rubbed against Yoshiko’s chest. 

“Why don’t you give me space?! You’re the smaller one here!” Yoshiko rebutted, her face equally as red as she felt Riko’s ass grind against her. 

The two hushed quietly, the close distance starting to get to them.

“...Yoshiko.”

Said girl gulped, already knowing what was coming. “Your...”

“Yes! Yes I know, please don’t!!” Yoshiko whispered loudly, feeling Riko on her.

“Oh my god..” Riko said into her hands, something digging into her ass becoming more apparent, which she hoped was just her panties giving her one hell of a wedgie. 

--

Seven girls were perched against the closet, listening on to their conversation, trying not to burst out laughing. 

“Oh my god.. Yoshiko has a--” You chuckled into her hand, cutting herself off, wheezing silently.

“I’m going to die..” Dia said, who even she, was laughing quietly at the two. 

“Onee-chan?” Ruby called, to which Dia hummed to. “What does Yoshiko have?” Ruby asked, to which the others froze at. “Uh.. come here Ruby..” Dia commanded, nervously pulling her aside to explain.

--

Riko would be lying if she said she wasn’t horny right now. 

Yoshiko was already aware her horniness was already showing. 

In short, the two were desperate to get off. 

“...Lily...” Yoshiko whispered weakly, rubbing herself against Riko’s ass needily.

“You better not fucking use me to masturbate..” Riko whispered through her teeth, feeling her panties already wet as is, leaning her arms and head forward, no longer in contact with Yoshiko’s chest.

“Lily.. I--” 

“Fine! Fine..” Riko whispered aggressively, “Flip my skirt up and do whatever the hell you want.” She was too horny to argue.

Yoshiko hastily complied, flipping the girls short skirt up and seeing the innocent pink color that was soaked in something not-so-innocent. 

She slid down Riko’s panties until she could see the swollen privates of the older. “Holy shit...” Yoshiko looked wide eyed, before amusingly playing with her like a toy, eliciting small moans from said girl.

“F-Fuck you...” Riko said under her breath, trying to keep quiet before their groupmates hear. 

She slid a digit in Riko, grinning as she saw her flinch, biting into her arm. Without much preparing, she slid in another two fingers, making Riko moan just a tad louder. 

Yoshiko smirked, “Does it feel good, Lily?~” She leaned forward a bit awkwardly, thrusting her fingers in and out of her. No response, her moans muffled by her own pride. “Lily~” Yoshiko teased, digging deeper into Riko. “You’re so tight~” She whispered.

Riko mumbled something inaudible.

“Hmm?” Yoshiko hummed.

“...Out...”

“Huh?” Yoshiko cocked her head confused, her movements slowing down.

“..Take...”

“Take?” Yoshiko repeated.

“Take it out..!” Riko whispered loudly. “I need it, Yocchan! Please!” She whispered exasperatedly, bucking her lower half deeper into Yoshiko’s fingers.

“You...” Yoshiko blushed, knowing exactly what she meant, pulling out her fingers and licking off the remnants of Riko, then she started unbuckling her pants.

--

Suddenly, a loud, unfiltered moan, came out of the closet.

The girls flinched, panicking. 

“Holy shit-- Are they actually fucking in there?!” Chika shouted quietly at her other groupmates. “Mari! How much time do they have left?!” Kanan asked desperate, the smell of sex seeping out of her closet. “My poor closets gonna smell for weeks!” 

“Let me see...” Mari fumbled, before looking wide-eyed at her phone. “Woops...” “Sus, zura.” Hanamaru squinted. “Very sus.” Chika and You nodded. She put her phone up, revealing the screen. Dia fumed angrily. “You set it on Stopwatch?!!” She shouted, before being muffled by the others. “It’s been going on for 17 minutes..” You looked at the phone.

“It’s too late now..!! They’re already going at it!!” Kanan cried, “I’ll have to get a new closet!!”.

They rolled their eyes at Kanan, clearly unamused.

--

Yoshiko panted, hard, as she thrusted upwards into Riko, who moaned from her movements.

Holy shit, Yoshiko thought. She’s tight as fuck! She groaned, using the redhaired’s arms to thrust herself up again.

God, Riko felt stuffed, whining like a bitch in heat as she felt Yoshiko kiss her womb for a brief second. Their position was a little uncomfortable, with herself sprawled out on the wall, while Yoshiko’s head and top leaned on the opposite side, while her lower half balanced itself against the corners of the closet.

“Ha-Har-Harde-er..” Riko mumbled weakly, but just loud enough for Yoshiko to hear, causing her to pull out, and slam into her far rougher than before. Moans escaped Riko as she felt the thrusts speed up and go farther inside her, filling her entirely.

“Ahn~ Y-Yo-Yocchan!!” Riko screamed, where they were vanished from her mind everytime Yoshiko was inside. Their moans synchronized and the wet clapping sounds of their lovemaking increased with every pound.

“L-Lily..! I’m.. I’m..!!” Yoshiko warned, on the brink of release. That’s when Riko snapped, still moaning aloud. “Y-Yo-Yoccha-anng..!! Do-Don’t! Not in-inside!!” Riko cried between moans and grunts. “P-P-Pull.. Haah! out!! Yoccha-an!” Riko screamed, every attempt to separate futile as her wet pussy sucked in Yoshiko subconsciously, holding her orgasm as long as possible.

F-Fuck! She feels too good..! Riko thought, her cries dying out as her mind started turning to her insides building up, just about to break. It feels so... so.. good.. 

“I-I’m cumming..!!” Riko screamed, tears stained her eyes as her back arched, and her pussy caved in on itself, sucking Yoshiko in whole, spurring the bluette to release into the blissful second year.

“Lily..!!” “Yocchaahn~!!”

--

All sorts of lewd, loud, noises came from the closet, and surely, everyone nearby could hear. Of course, that was obviously the rest of the Aqours members.

“Nothings happening... Nothings happening...” Kanan and Dia whispered, clutching eachother on the floor with a clear face of distress with the closet. They both thought of how bad their dorm would stink after this.

Mari also looked a bit stressed, and regretful, despite her horny nature. Hanamaru and Ruby were so lucky, and they were blissfully unaware of why, Dia sent them off to chill with their other colleagues. 

Chika and You? Well, they were stuffing their ears in pillows, desperate to get their friends moans out of their head.

They all silently agreed to never, ever, do this again.

--

Semen and her cum dripped out of her entrance, as Yoshiko’s load continued to flow into her. Breathy sighs and hitched gasps replaced the erotic moans and grunts from before, and through it all, Riko’s soaked flower garden clenched tightly onto Yoshiko, preventing any movement to escape.

When Yoshiko finally finished, it seemed the girl loosened around her, slowly pulling out of Riko while she moaned.

The two stood there doing nothing but catching their breaths. Riko spun around (As fast and smooth as she can) and stared straight at Yoshiko, who almost immediately punched her lips with her own.

Messily, Yoshiko pushed Riko up against the wall, lifting her legs and hurriedly stuck herself back into the redhead’s insides, a loud moan escaping the girl. 

Yoshiko started again roughly, almost telling Riko that maybe, she wasn’t quite satisfied by the first round.

“Yo-occhan..?” Riko whispered weakly, feeling the familiar stuffed feeling once again, her arms gripped around Yoshiko’s neck. What a long night it would become.

--

2:AM Dia and Kanan could not sleep.

Not with the awareness they shared of how their friends were still fucking just a door away. 

The front door knocked. They groaned, hilariously right at the time a loud moan from the closet was heard.

Both of them walked sleepily to the door. Another noise complaint, it seemed.

They opened the door.

“Where. The Hell. Is Tsushima?” Maki asked frustratedly, Mia behind her, obviously not caring hell about the situation, headphones jammed in her ears while scrolling through her phone.

“Uh.” “You see Maki... she’s... um, quite busy...” Dia said nervously. “Who cares, I know she’s fucking, and I know who she’s fucking. Right Mia?” Maki asked her roommate, who nodded.

“Uh, yeah, like, shit man, look.” Mia said, showing her phone to the roommates. A very, very, very, uncensored, explicit live video of Yoshiko and Riko fucking within the confined space.

“Bloody hell!” Dia and Kanan screamed, covering the traumatic sight from her eyes.

“Yeaaaah. I sort of installed a tracking system and all sorts of other finnicky tech stuff when Yoshiko asked me to fix her phone, and when she didn’t come back to the dorm, I unlocked it through mines just to find it stepped on and cracked.” Mia grimaced, “She’s worse than Boss, sometimes. But anyways,” Mia continued, “I managed to get her screen onto mines, and am recording the whole thing for mock material.” Mia finished.

“Was that necessary?”

“No. But yes. But no.”/’

Maki slapped her face, “Oh my god, Mia. Really?” “Yes, really.” Mia rolled her eyes. 

“Whatever, the noises are killing me, let’s get Tsushima and her little pussycat and we’re outta here.” Mia snorted, waving them off and heading to the sex-filled closet.

Maki groaned, “Fucking New Yorkers..”

--

“Fuck.. Lily..” Yoshiko huffed, ruffling her hair as the redhaired sucked and licked her off. 

Riko’s mind was hazy while she bobbed her head up and down against Yoshiko. She payed little mind to those thoughts, focusing only on cleaning the semen and her own juices off of it.

Precum dribbled down her chin, staring up erotically at who she was sucking off, almost as if it were a porno.

Riko slid her tongue around her length, before gripping onto Yoshiko’s pants and stuffing her throat with it. I guess having no gag reflex has it’s perks..

Paying no mind to the footsteps getting louder, Riko continued to deepthroat the hell out of Yoshiko, the feel of her throat being filled whole surprisingly a turn on.

A thirst for dominance suddenly filled Yoshiko, gripping Riko’s head and slamming it back onto her length, eliciting moans from her, and snuffed moans from the redhead.

With her movements being took in control by Yoshiko, Riko slid her right hand down and stuffed her needy cunt with fingers. 

It was hard to focus, it was hard to think, hell, they didn’t care, what they did felt good, and that was it.

Yoshiko sighed, that pit in her stomach flushing out and her spunk flowed into Riko’s mouth. “Aah..” The bluette relaxed, releasing Riko from her hold.

Riko backed away, smiling as a string of cum followed.

“So, you two done yet?” 

The two glanced at each other, panicked, how long have they been in there?!

Mia opened the closet door smugly. “Hello, horny ‘lil shits.”

Maki pushed Mia away aggressively.

“Yoshiko.”

Yoshiko gulped, completely forgetting about she and Riko’s uncovered privacy’s. “...Maki..”

“You...”

“Left us...”

“In the FUCKING hallway, waiting for you...”

“JUST for you to go in a FUCKING closet to FUCKING FUCK piano pussy.” Maki screamed angrily, “You KNOW we lost our keys to the dorm, and you go off to fuck because why the fuck not, huh?!! What happened to the brocode?!!” She kept screaming. 

“Hey Yohane, learn to keep your dick in your pants!” Mia shouted, laughing with the humor of a 15 year old (Which, she is).

Yoshiko and Riko blushed, she fumbled with her underwear and zipper, but the embarrassment got to her, leaving her groaning in frustration from being unable to fix herself up.

Riko mumbled something, before pulling Yoshiko back in to the closet, leaving the Mia and Maki glancing at each other.

“Oh fuck.”

--

“Wa-Wait what?” Yoshiko asked, confused as Riko aggressively jammed her dick back in her pants, zipping it back up and buckling her belt. Then, Riko spun around and bent down and pulled her panties up snuggly covering her privates.

Then, to top it all off, she slammed her lips onto Yoshiko’s, “Mnh--!!” Riko furiously battling with Yoshiko’s tongue.

Yoshiko could hardly process what was going on, but still managed to grip Riko’s hands and lift them above her head, holding both in one hand while the other snaked around her waist. 

The fight for dominance was easily won as Riko quickly gave up, allowing Yoshiko full entrance into her mouth.

When the two departed from each other for air, a trail of saliva followed, before breaking from the quicker, gentler kiss Riko gave again.

“H-Huh..?” Yoshiko looked dazed, making Riko look at her sweetly and giggling. “For all this time, that was our first kiss, you know?” She said timidly, smiling up at Yoshiko.

“Fwuah?” 

She giggled again, “You dummy.”

--

“The hell?” Maki grumbled, clearly not enjoying waiting.

Yoshiko smiled, Riko smiled, there was only one answer to this: “Sus.” Mia said, “Super sus.”. 

“Nothings sus, Mia.” Yoshiko rolled her eyes at her roomie. “You want to sleep or nah?” She said waving her keys in front of them.

Maki scoffed, not saying anything and walking out the room, Mia following.

Maki and Mia passed Kanan and Dia, who were waiting at the front door, glaring with sleepy eyes.

“You owe us a new closet.” Riko rolled her eyes. “Ask Mari, she’s the rich Kiss.” She answered, with Yoshiko’s arm sliding onto her shoulder, who kissed her head while looking directly at the two smugly. Kanan and Dia glared as the two walked off, presumably to Maki, Mia’s, and Yoshiko’s dorm.

--

two months later

“Darling..”

“Hm?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Yoshiko looked at Riko wide-eyed, both in bed and clothes discarded on the floor.

“WHAT?!!”

[samtheflamingomain]

25.21%

I've been sober for 3 months today. 92 days. 25.21% of 2021.

I could've posted more updates, more milestones (it took a LOT not to post on Day 69) but I wanted to kind of save it up for a Big Day. It was also a decent way to continue to incentivize my continued sobriety: a full pass to do a shameless, hardcore bragging sesh.

Anyway, this post comes in 2 parts: the TL;DR for those who only want the gist, then more in depth on my ability to stay sober, the lasting effects of rehab, etc.

I tried my damnedest to pare this absolute novel down, but it's long, so feel free to dip out if you just get bored. Onward!

TL;DR: I went to rehab the beginning of July for 3 weeks and haven't had a drop of alcohol since. I've lost weight, I'm more healthy, my daily anxiety level went from 8 to 2, I haven't had an anxiety attack in 3 months, and everything generally just seems... easier. My memory and concentration have improved. I've been productive and I've been meditating every day. I'm saving money, and while I sometimes fantasize about getting drunk, that's usually all it is.

Honestly, it's been much easier than I expected, but I think a lot of that is because for the first 3 weeks, the time in which I would usually break down and start drinking again when trying to get sober myself, was spent behind a locked door. So far I haven't had any days where I was close to giving in. I haven't had many days where I've been depressed about it, missing it or really tempted. Maybe 3-4. I've basically just gotten on with my life as if alcohol doesn't exist.

To wrap up the short version for those ready to peace out, I'll leave it with a bit of advice.

I don't feel qualified to give any specific advice, because my story feels very unique to me, and I honestly don't think what worked for me will work for MOST people. Sometimes people spend a year in rehab and still drive straight to the liquor store on their way home.

That said, there's one thing that I've found pretty universally true: you have to really want it. For a while, I floated about without much of a "reason" to stay sober. I don't have a spouse, kids or a job I've been fired from, so I didn't see the point.

It's taken me a while, but after not being "convinced" by a few superficial "reasons" like weight loss and saving money, I thought I needed something more... permanent? Consequential? I now realize that my "reason" for getting sober at a young age after only a few years of alcoholism is that I don't want it to get to a point where I'm hurting other people, drinking myself into multiple lasting health problems... I don't want it to become permanent or consequential.

Anyway, that's my two cents. If you do have something like kids or trouble keeping a job, definitely use that as your reason. But for anyone who's a pretty "functional" alcoholic like I was, "not letting it go on long enough to become disfunctional" is a good enough reason.

This is going to get stupid long, so feel free to walk away now, just glad you read this much and it really does mean the world when people listen to what I have to say.

Now some more things in depth. I'll go in chronological order: what made me get sober, what I took from rehab (and what I left), and how it's been the past few months.

I started drinking when I got kicked out, manic out of my mind and homeless unable to sleep. It took a while until I was able to sleep without alcohol, but by then the addict brain had taken over. I'd tried a few times to get sober myself, but I never made it more than a week without, and always got back to daily drinking after a few months maximum.

Some people need a "wake up call", a "last straw" or a "rock bottom". Something external to make them realize they can't go on as they are. For me, the catalyst was my health, which is more of an internal reason I suppose. I didn't have a heart attack or liver failure, but my anxiety was getting uncontrollable and I knew it was directly tied to my drinking.

My life had been starting to feel tolerable, and I was more financially secure than ever before. Things were looking up... except for the alcoholism. This is a weird analogy but the only one that makes sense to express why, if I was doing so well on paper, I decided to go to rehab: you have to sweep before you mop. If I hadn't been in the place I was, I don't think I would've been successful at rehab. I had to sweep up the cat turds from the floor of my life before I was able to mop up the shit stains with sobriety. I know, I'm a true wordsmith.

When I finally called the hotline that hooked me up with a bunch of different rehabs, I knew I was in for a wait. It was about 5 months from that call to checking in, which isn't too bad considering I've been on the waitlist for a neuropsychiatrist in ALL OF CANADA for 4 years.

That brings us to July 12th, Rehab Day One. I've gone in depth in multiple other posts but to touch on it briefly, if I had to describe my experience in a sentence I'd say "the place I went to got very lucky with me".

What this means is that, of the 5 people in my group, I think this exact program was only ever going to help me. At the same time, I didn't even know what I would need, but this exact program was 90% of it. I didn't think 3 weeks would be long enough, but for me it was. The hours-long, repetitive, basic-ass CBT groups held 5 times a day 7 days a week was absolute torture for everyone but myself. While it was a drag to spend an hour on defining what a cognitive distortion is, the routine and repetition, something I've never gotten out of any outpatient program, helped me to really absorb the information and let it rewire my brain.

I've always said that I'm someone who should be spending an hour a day with a therapist for the rest of my life, and while that's not even remotely feasible, this was as close as it's ever gotten, and it proved me right, because it worked. I've done biweekly therapy for a short time but even that didn't come close to the way my brain changed in those 3 short weeks.

This program required absolute commitment and open-mindedness. This isn't because it was hard work or difficult concepts, but quite the opposite. While I hate the entire concept of art therapy being used as a cure-all for mental illness, I willingly got out of my bed, went downstairs and tried doing a dot mandala for an hour because I'm willing to try anything to get better. A lot of people might think they are, but really aren't. To use the mandala as an example, one guy was really into it, I wasn't, but we both finished. The other 3 tried, messed up a few times, and then scrolled through their phones. When I say this program necessitates complete engagement, that's not a compliment. It shouldn't be a chore to engage with the program. It shouldn't take me actively saying "I know I've known this basic concept since 4th grade, but maybe hearing it again will help" to get something out of a rehab program. So again, in every way, I got lucky, and so did they.

Before I finish with the rehab section, having had a few months to reflect on the whole thing, I now have an endless list of things wrong with it. I arrived, greeted by the most jaded and disillusioned of staff, and quickly became disturbed and at points concerned with just how negligent the staff are.

Maybe it's because I've been on the psych ward where they won't even let you have shoelaces and shine a flashlight on your face every half hour through the night, but it could've been so incredibly easy to sneak in alcohol. I brought 2 full water bottles, fully expecting to have to dump them out upon arrival, but they said "nah it's fine". Is it though?

Then there were actual counsellors there who were... okay. I recall one, the one I thought was the smartest, reading a handout aloud and coming across the word "delve" as in "let's delve into..." and stumbled, then said she doesn't know that word. The room was silent. As she pulled up Google on the screen I said, "it means to dive into it". She Googled it anyway. Synonyms include "dive in". If that was the only example I wouldn't mention it, but this was the first of at least 10 words she had do Google, none past a 10th grade level, from HER OWN MATERIAL. From that point on it became clear that they had no fucking idea what they were doing.

We had one last one-on-one counselling session before we left and the counsellor just filled in boxes to questions on her computer, rephrasing everything I said to fit into the buzzwords and "lessons" we'd "learned". Example. Me: I do think I'm better able to catch myself thinking 'oh I can just have one drink' and say 'no I can't'." Her: "Okay, so would you say that you can recognize negative cognitive distortions like permission-giving thoughts and counter them with a more rational and less emotional mind?" Like girl, blink twice if your boss is holding your family hostage. She gave me some papers, detailing all the online courses they were signing me up for and options for more treatment they'd be sending me, a phone number to call and a phone appointment for the next Monday. I never got that call, the phone number is a hotline, I never got a single email from them, and given how shitty they really are at their jobs, I didn't feel the inclination to try and get those resources. If they even exist in the first place.

In summation, it was a place where it was physically impossible to get alcohol. That's really all I can say in its favor. Oh, and they let you have your cell phone.

Now on our timeline I'm back home. I want to kind of analyze why it's been easy for me.

I often said that my main goal of going to rehab was to lock me away from alcohol long enough for it to reset my brain. Most people thought that was naïve, but that's exactly what happened. But I'm well aware that my experience of "instantly became sober and literally hasn't had a single hard day in 3 months" is absurdly unusual.

I put this down to a few things. Firstly, I'm on seven different meds for my mental health. Almost all of them have their effects dulled or even eliminated when you drink. So when I noticed my mood, fatigue, memory, concentration etc all getting better at once - right about as I left rehab, I don't think it would be a stretch to say that all those meds started working properly.

Secondly, I've been keeping myself busy, but that's something I've always been good at. Now I specifically choose to undertake projects that will eat up a lot my time and put me in a state of flow. I recently made an entire card game from scratch, and let me tell you, I didn't think of alcohol for a week.

Thirdly, my other goals now get in the way of alcohol. I'm getting old and my body is deteriorating. But I've always wanted to do just one last season of gymnastics. Well, I need to lose weight for that to happen. I've already lost 35 pounds, and after another 20 I'll be ready to go. Also, I used to spend more on alcohol per month than rent. Even though I've done a few shopping sprees lately, I haven't come remotely close to how much I was spending before.

I want it more than anything. I want to be sober more than I want one night of "fun" that will more likely than not lead me back to where I was a year ago. I never want to need anything as much as I needed alcohol.

Lastly, just a few more random thoughts.

A lot of people, myself included, worried about the fact that I work at a bar as a cook, but honestly the entire time I'm there I'm thinking about food, not alcohol. If I'm hanging out with some regulars before/after, I can watch them drink and be perfectly fine with my coffee, because the coffee is $2, and I used to spend $20 after every work shift.

I also decided in rehab to start taking better care of myself as best I could. This started with getting my second vax which I'd been putting off, then an eye appointment, then new glasses, then a dentist appointment where I was informed I need to do $3000 worth of work on my implant that's erroding my bone matter, so that sucks, but I caught it early. I've also been meditating every day. In just 3 months, I've made pretty big improvements to my self-care and my daily routine.

One of my fears about sobriety was "missing out" on "having fun". A few days ago, all my housemates got together to play Mario Party, and it was kind of my first night doing something social while sober. It was a breath of fresh air - I wasn't constantly running to piss, I didn't worry about running out of alcohol, I didn't get sloppy and obnoxious as I can sometimes do. I even came very very close to winning my first game of MP. When I reflected on the night, I realized that, if I'd been getting drunk the whole time, I would've sucked at the minigames, been a hindrance to anyone unfortunate enough to be teamed with me, and likely would've stopped caring about the game itself after the first few turns.

Yesterday I was making my 4th pot of coffee of the day when I realized there was a full glass of wine just sitting on the counter. I had absolutely no idea where the hell it came from - nobody in my house drinks wine. I shrugged and poured that sweet sweet bean juice. It was only when I sat down and took a sip of coffee did I find myself thinking automatically, "this tastes so much better than wine". I only realized then that it had been rose wine, the only kind I've ever been able to tolerate. It was the ultimate moment of possible temptation, and the thought of just chugging that glass - as I may've done in the past - didn't even cross my mind.

I'm so glad to be where I am. I'm about to undergo some serious financial changes - i.e. going absolutely broke - but drinking isn't gonna help that, so I'm cautiously optimistic.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[kyra-bane]

the old guard - kinktober day 7 - make your choice

rating: explicit

pairing: joe x nicky; andromache x quynh (very background)

prompt: sharing a bed

extra tags: PINING; pre-slash; pre-canon; mutual masturbation; jealousy (only a bit tho)

word count: 4058

notes: this one was requested by @gentlesleaze and i hope you enjoy it!! follows on from across the fire, which follows on from (not) sight unseen - this mini-series should be wrapping up with prompt 26 😏

read on ao3 or keep reading below

It is all getting a bit much for Yusuf.

He had thought, after the first time, that Nicolò would insist they should talk about it, that he would be so riddled with guilt that he would be able to do nothing else.

Only, Nicolò had not said a word. He had been gone before Yusuf had woken for fajr and had returned after, hair damp, his smile soft. They had not spoken about it that day and Yusuf had thought about broaching the subject when they lay down to sleep that night, but that had not seemed like a good time, either.

Instead, he had waited.

And waited.

And then when he had worked himself up again, which was entirely his own fault, of course (though he cannot help it; his eyes are drawn to Nicolò’s strong hands, to the way the muscles in his arms tighten when he swings his sword, to the ever-shining light in his eyes), he had excused himself one night, like before – and, like before, he had heard Nicolò’s hitching breaths along with him.

It has been six months since that first time and now Yusuf is lying on his back, hand on his cock, and his grip tightens when he hears Nicolò whimper. They did not speak, last time – a sudden fit of pique had overcome Yusuf, when he had heard Nicolò rustling around on his bedroll – and that was the first time he had seen Nicolò concerned, the next morning, eyeing Yusuf as though he might disappear.

“What are you thinking of, Nicolò?” Yusuf asks tonight.

Nicolò hums. They have never done this in daylight, never with the fire still burning, and Yusuf craves the sight of him. He has seen Nicolò naked, naturally – they have been travelling together too long for him to have not. But it would be different to see him in the throes of desire, even if he did not touch.

“I ache, down there,” Nicolò says, and oh, he is already so close, Yusuf can tell. “I want to be full, I want to feel his hands on me, holding me where he wants me…”

He lets out a choked-off moan and Yusuf breathes deeply through his nose. He still has not asked who Nicolò thinks of – perhaps it is no one at all.

He hopes Nicolò thinks of him, but after all this time, it seems unlikely.

Still, he imagines it along with him; imagines digging bruises into Nicolò’s pale skin, considers how hot and tight he would be around him. He would have to go slow – he would never wish to cause Nico pain – but their bodies heal so quickly that he would likely be used to him in seconds. He would hold him down and he hopes the first time would be loving and gentle and everything Nicolò would want from him, but he suspects if he ever did get the chance, he would lose all semblance of patience very, very quickly.

“Tell me,” Nicolò says, breathing hard now, “Tell me what you think of.”

Yusuf’s heart skips a beat. This is new. He spreads his legs a little wider, slows the glide of his hand on his cock. “He’s beautiful,” he says and Nicolò’s breath hitches. “Not soft, not really, but pliable under my hands. And when I push him down he spreads his legs for me, begs for me, like he might just die if I don’t fuck him, then and there.”

Nicolò groans. It’s a throaty sound and Yusuf shudders. He’s close – but then he always is, when they do this together.

“And then?” Nicolò asks. He sounds strained, like he’s holding off his own orgasm, and Yusuf licks his lips.

“And then I do. He’s already slick, already fingered himself open for me, so I can just slide right in. We fit together like we were made for each other and he tries to pull me deeper even as I fill him up because all we want is each other.”

“Fuck, Yusuf,” Nicolò says and Yusuf keens, comes with a sudden, short shock, because it’s not only the first time he’s heard Nicolò curse when they’ve been doing this – it’s also the first time Nicolò has said his name.

From the sound of it, Nicolò has heard him, is stroking himself faster until he comes, too, his moan a noise that Yusuf will never tire of. He stares up at the sky. Every time they do this, he thinks he should go back around the fire. Nicolò is probably a boneless mess; he could lick him clean, coax him into sharing all his fantasies and work to make them come true–

Only, he can’t. He doesn’t know whether Nicolò was ever truly celibate, but he is certain he never had relations with a man, at any level. He has to take the lead from Nicolò on this and trust that he will get there.

“Good night, Nicolò,” he says.

Silence. Not just silence; a lack of noise that indicates Nicolò is thinking, before he replies, “Good night, Yusuf.”

Yusuf is not sure how much longer he can take this.

***

He lasts through the rest of their journey, though he wakes up plastered to Nicolò’s back, hard as a rock, on more than one morning. If Nicolò notices, he does not say anything.

He lasts, too, when they are protecting a merchant’s caravan and are forced to share a cramped tent. Of course, that is easier – there are people enough around and although Yusuf has no qualms about exactly who he is, he knows others are more hesitant, even hostile.

He lasts even through Nicolò’s increasingly curious glances, because a look is not intent; or at least, not yet. A romantic, optimistic part of him says it will be, in time: that they will be together so long that knowing how to love one another will come as easily as knowing how to breathe.

For now, there is still that space between them. Yusuf fears filling it with the depth of his own feelings and leaving no room for Nicolò’s.

Occasionally, he does not think of it at all.

They travel from city to city, and when they reach this one, when they are told there is a room, yes, but it only has one bed, Yusuf does not hesitate in taking it. They are travel-worn, tired; it has been a long few months and he wants to rest.

Still, he eyes the floor when they enter the room. Aside from a handful of times, they have not spent the night apart in years, but that has always been a matter of choice. One bed is not a choice.

Nicolò lets him wash up first, though he, too, is dead on his feet, and then stumbles through his own ablutions. Yusuf sets out his bedroll and Nicolò turns, one eyebrow quirking at the sight.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I would–”

Nicolò’s lips twitch. “Are you not too tired for that, tonight?”

“Not that! I thought you might like the bed.”

“I mean, I know we are safe here but if you do not wish to sleep beside me, you could–”

“I do,” Yusuf says without meaning to, an honest admission, and Nicolò smiles.

“Then get in bed, Yusuf,” he says, and the note of command in his voice has Yusuf nodding despite himself.

He supposes Nicolò has made the choice, then.

Yusuf settles on his side, pressed back against the wall, and Nicolò climbs into the bed in front of him a few minutes later. When Yusuf still maintains the distance between them, Nicolò huffs, reaching back until his fingers land on Yusuf’s arm.

He tugs him forward and Yusuf goes, sliding his arm around Nicolò’s waist. Only then does Nicolò appear to relax, all the tension seeping out of his neck and shoulders. Yusuf rests his forehead against the back of Nicolò’s neck.

“Good night, Yusuf,” Nicolò murmurs, halfway to sleep already now, it seems.

“Good night, habibi,” Yusuf replies.

He does not fall asleep until after Nicolò’s breathing has evened out. When he does, he stumbles immediately into a familiar scene.

They have been having the dreams ever since their first deaths. They were one of the first things they connected over, actually; once they knew well enough how to communicate with each other, at least.

The two women are like them, Yusuf is sure. They are both warriors, and sometimes he feels their age so keenly, he wonders how they can bear it. His dreams are never coherent, flashes of death, of laughter, of fury and stolen moments and he wonders if he will meet them, one day.

Tonight is both familiar and not, all at once.

He already knows the women are in love. Nicolò knows too, though they have not spoken of it. It is clear in the way they are when they are together, in the brush of skin Yusuf feels against the back of his hand, the bright close up of smiling eyes.

Tonight, they are celebrating their love. Yusuf cannot call it anything else. They kiss and he feels a phantom of it on his lips; hands roam and his skin prickles. He wakes when one bites the other on the thigh, then grins softly, and realises two things straight away.

He’s hard.

Nicolò is awake.

The only reason they both are apparent is because Nicolò has gone so still he does not appear to be breathing, except where he is pressing back against Yusuf, hips twitching.

Yusuf lets out a heavy breath and Nicolò turns in his arms.

“I saw–”

“I know,” Yusuf says and Nicolò kisses him. It’s frantic, messy, but Yusuf doesn’t have the sense to slow it because he can feel Nicolò pressed against him and he’s hard too, deliciously so. They rock together, pant into each other’s mouths, and when Yusuf squeezes Nicolò’s ass, Nicolò goes boneless, letting out a little whimper.

Something about that knocks Yusuf back to his senses. He lifts himself up and wonders when they rolled because Nicolò is spread out beneath him, hair mussed, eyes still heavy with sleep, lips swollen from where Yusuf bit him, at least once.

“The dream,” Yusuf says and Nicolò blinks once, twice.

“The dream?” he repeats.

“We are…” Yusuf waves a hand between them. “The dream. It got to us.”

Something like hurt flicks over Nicolò’s face. “Oh,” he says and his voice has gone small but Yusuf will not have him regret this, in the morning. “I thought…”

He chews his lip and Yusuf wants to kiss him again. He pushes the desire firmly aside. “It was the dream,” he says. He will have Nicolò make a conscious choice; there is too much to consider, otherwise. “We should sleep.”

Nicolò takes a deep breath, but nods. “Alright,” he says and when Yusuf climbs back to his place on the bed, Nicolò turns his back. Yusuf reaches to put his arm around him again but Nicolò tucks in on himself, all that tension back in his shoulders, and so he withdraws his hand.

He does not turn his back. He watches Nicolò’s breathing until he has to get up and pray.

***

They go to Malta not long after that. It is a pleasant island – more than pleasant, really – and it is not long before they carve out a quiet life for themselves. Yusuf knows it will not last forever, but he enjoys that there are people who know them here, that they have goats and chickens and a little house they can call their own.

Nicolò goes to the market every other day and almost always returns with a small treat for Yusuf; sweets or oil for his beard or quill pens and ink, so he can draw. He does, nightly, often as Nicolò prepares dinner. Sometimes, Nicolò’s eyes on him are heavy, so much so that Yusuf cannot breathe.

It has been months since that night in their bed and they still sleep side-by-side, Yusuf’s arm around Nicolò’s waist. Nicolò is always awake and out of bed before Yusuf, ostensibly to feed the goats, and Yusuf fears, one day, that their time is running out.

Maybe they need time apart, he thinks, as he watches Nicolò move deftly around this small space they share. Or maybe he does… Nicolò does not wish to approach the subject, clearly, and if it is because he does not know how to let Yusuf down gently, then Yusuf can solve that problem himself.

Only, he does not wish to leave Nicolò alone, either. Anything could happen – and he trusts that Nicolò can take care of himself – but if something were to go terribly wrong, Yusuf would have no one to blame but himself.

They climb into bed that night and Nicolò makes a contented sound as Yusuf presses up behind him.

“Are you going to the market tomorrow?” Yusuf asks. Nicolò’s ribs rise and fall under his arm.

“Yes.”

“Can I come, too?” Usually he would find something to do in the day; there is always something to be done. But if he is going to leave, then he would prefer to spend more time with Nicolò, first.

It is counterintuitive and will make everything more painful, but he cannot help himself.

“Of course,” Nicolò says. He sounds surprised; probably because Yusuf is asking. It is not as though they have never gone to the market together before.

“Thank you,” Yusuf murmurs.

He is sure Nicolò wants to say something else but he does not, and Yusuf sleeps lightly as a result. When he wakes before dawn, Nicolò is still in bed beside him. His brow is furrowed, even in sleep, and Yusuf wants to smooth the lines out with his fingers, kiss them away.

Instead, he climbs out of bed and prepares for fajr.

Nicolò wakes sometime after that and they tend to their morning chores before setting out for the market just before midday. Yusuf knows Nicolò wants to ask what has changed, but he does not, and they spend the walk talking about erstwhile things: the goats, who all have individual personalities but one thing in common (they all vaguely dislike Nicolò), the good summer weather, what they might have for dinner…

The market is busy and they both get to work, separating only to find each other again. Nicolò is not quite as good at striking a bargain as Yusuf would like but he does appear to have improved from when they first met. Yusuf secures some baklava, which he knows Nicolò will enjoy after their dinner, but when he turns this time, Nicolò is nowhere to be seen.

Yusuf turns in a circle, then starts walking through the stalls. Nicolò would be easy enough to spot, in most other places, but Malta is such a mix of people that it takes Yusuf longer than he would like.

When he finally does see Nicolò, he stops. He is speaking to a merchant – or a merchant’s son, perhaps, as the man is younger than both of them, albeit not by much. They clearly know each other, standing close, smiling, and when the stranger touches Nicolò on the arm, Nicolò does not push him away.

It is clear Nicolò has been caught up in their conversation enough that he has forgotten Yusuf is there and Yusuf wonders if he should leave.

No. Nicolò is not being rude; Yusuf is being irrational. He sighs and walks toward them.

The stranger sees him first, smiles up at Nicolò, and Nicolò is beaming when he turns, making Yusuf feel twice as bad about his thoughts.

“Yusuf!” Nicolò exclaims. “This is Amir. Amir, Yusuf.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Amir says and he seems to mean it. He speaks the same Arabic as Yusuf does, Yusuf notices, though he probably knows a handful of other languages, besides.

This becomes evident when he turns back to Nicolò, says something to him in Ligurian, far too fast for even Yusuf to follow. Nicolò shakes his head, the tips of his ears going pink, and Yusuf is not sure he wants to know what he is missing.

“I, uh, am going to head back,” he says, shifting the baklava from hand to hand.

“Oh!” Nicolò nods. “Of course, we should go. It was good to see you again, Amir.”

Amir does not seem put off by Yusuf’s attitude – does not seem surprised by it, in fact. He says his goodbyes to both of them and Nicolò follows Yusuf back through the crowd in apparently high spirits. He chatters to Yusuf all the way home and Yusuf dwells on what he saw – Amir’s smile, that casual touch, obviously welcome, and the simple fact that Nicolò has never made it clear to Yusuf that he wants him. Wants more.

By the time they reach the house, Nicolò appears to have realised something is amiss; but it can wait until after the chores are done. Yusuf leaves the package of baklava on the table, his fingers sticky from it, even through the paper, and sets to helping. Hours later, everything is done and Yusuf stops Nicolò before he goes to make dinner.

“Yusuf, I am hungry–”

“Then have some of this,” Yusuf says and presses the baklava into Nicolò’s hands. “But we need to speak, first.”

Nicolò frowns and sits. Yusuf paces and so Nicolò eats a piece of the baklava, eyes fluttering shut at the first taste. Yusuf looks away, his mouth suddenly dry, and forces out, “I am going to leave.”

“We have to leave so soon?” Nicolò replies. He puts the baklava down, licks honey from his fingers. “I thought we would manage a few years more, at least.”

“No, Nicolò, I am going to leave.”

“What?”

Yusuf shrugs, trying to look calm even though his heart is pounding and he almost can’t catch his breath. “I think it is time to… I should find those women we dream of. Bring them back here. You can stay, it is safe, and then we will all be reunited.”

Nicolò just stares at him, and the look on his face is similar to many of the times Yusuf stabbed him – shocked, and in pain – and Yusuf flees into the bedroom. He pulls out the bag he last used on their journey here. He needs to pack; now that he’s said it, he needs to be out by nightfall.

Yusuf digs around for clothes – his clothes – and suddenly realises they’ve been sharing; they’re both of a height, both built similarly, and he isn’t sure what to take.

When he turns, Nicolò is looming in the doorway.

“You are really going to do this?” he asks. He sounds hurt and sad and angry.

“You will be fine here, without me,” Yusuf replies. “You have friends here, you will pass a few years in peace…”

“You told me you would always be here for me.”

That stops Yusuf in his tracks. It was not quite what he had intended by what he had said, but it was true all the same.

“I cannot be,” he murmurs and he’s staring at his bag; he can’t look at Nicolò. “Not right now.”

“Why not?”

Yusuf looks at Nicolò and Nicolò stares steadily back. Can he really not see it? Did he not feel it, that night, how much Yusuf had wanted him – how much he has wanted him, even before Nicolò saw him with that stranger?

“Because this is killing me, Nicolò,” he all but shouts. “And I need a break, I need some time away so that I can trust myself to be around you.”

Nicolò takes a step into the room. “I told you I was ready, Yusuf,” he says. “Or, maybe not told you but I think I made it clear enough. You certainly made it clear you thought I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You were half-asleep, Nicolò, I cannot take advantage of you like that!”

“I kissed you,” Nicolò retorts. He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you trust me with your life, Yusuf?”

“Yes.” No hesitation; he knows it in his bones.

“Then give me the courtesy of trusting me with my own.”

Yusuf sighs. “I could not be certain–”

“I have been trying to show you every day since,” Nicolò says. “Everything I see you might like, every bit of news I think might lighten your heart – and I didn’t want to ask again because I did not wish to be rebuffed like someone who did not know what he was asking.”

“But you and Amir…”

Nicolò rolls his eyes. “He is from your homeland. And yes, I am sure you saw the way he looks at me, from the way you greeted us, but it meant I felt secure in telling him how I feel about you and he has been helping me to find gifts for you.”

Yusuf thinks he might actually die. He has assumed the whole time that Nicolò’s silence represented disinterest; instead, here he is, presented with full evidence of that interest, because Nicolò has been trying to give him space, just as he has been trying to give it to Nicolò.

Nicolò sighs, all the fight draining out of him. “We need to talk about this,” he says. “Are you still leaving?”

Yusuf looks at his bag. It is small and sad on their bed. “No.”

“Good. Then I will make dinner.” He glances to the window. “It is almost time for maghrib.”

He leaves Yusuf in there, alone. Yusuf prays but his heart is not in it; his mind spins around what Nicolò has just told him, and he knows they are both at fault but he has been assuming that Nicolò’s inexperience is the same as naivety and they are not the same at all.

Yusuf stays in the bedroom until dinner, not out of cowardice but because he is turning things over in his mind. What if he had trusted Nicolò, after the dream? What if he had rounded the fire, any number of times?

They eat in silence and Nicolò cleans up, after, as Yusuf fetches his sketchbook. He draws Amir from memory – which turns out to be an unflattering sketch, tinged as it is by his hurt and jealousy, and Nicolò nibbles at the baklava, watches him from under his lashes. Yusuf sets down his quill, once, opens his mouth, and Nicolò shakes his head.

Yusuf has a thousand questions, a thousand thoughts, and as his quill flows across the parchment, he orders them in his mind. By the time they are readying themselves for bed, he almost knows which question he wishes to ask first.

Nicolò indicates for Yusuf to climb in first and then lays in front of him. Yusuf doesn’t reach for him and so Nicolò huffs, turns on his side so they face each other.

“We should talk about this,” Yusuf says into the quiet space between them. It is dark, sure, but there is light enough from the moon that he can see Nicolò’s eyes.

“Not tonight,” Nicolò replies. “We say too many things in the dark, thinking they do not count that way. This conversation will have meaning, Yusuf.”

Yusuf lets out a sigh and Nicolò reaches, stroking soft fingers along his cheekbone. Yusuf wants to kiss him – it would be so easy to lean in – but holds himself back.

“I’m sorry,” Nicolò says. “I do want you to know that, tonight. I should have said something sooner.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Yusuf replies and this simple exchange of apologies loosens something in him. “For a lot of things, but especially for not trusting you to know your own–”

He cuts himself off. Nicolò takes his hand.

“I know my heart well enough to know who it belongs to,” he says, and the words are sweeter than anything he has brought Yusuf, these past months. “Sleep now, ya albi. We will talk about this tomorrow, I promise.”

Yusuf pulls Nicolò closer, tangles their legs together and when Nicolò’s arms go around him, he is not sure whether he wants to cry or laugh or both, really. Eventually, he falls asleep, his face buried in Nicolò’s chest, his love’s heartbeat against his ear.

[sencire]

I can see right through you

There's a package in her bag and a plan to spend the night. There's a beautiful stranger who is lost. And Clarke is not sure what the hell they're even talking about. But it's making her hot.

Featuring a very mischievous Lexa, a very flustered Clarke and a very innocent container of lubricant.

Chapter 1

Read on ao3 instead

Clarke Griffin is lost in music, dancing along the sidewalk and humming to her favorite song. She’s eager to get home and in an exceptionally good mood. The bag of groceries dangles on her shoulder, bumping into her hip every now and then. It’s Friday afternoon and inside her bag, underneath her groceries is a package she has just picked up from the post office, ripped open impatiently the second she stepped outside. Now she wants to go home quickly to open it properly.

She looks up at the dark clouds with a frown and that’s why she notices the woman standing there barely a split second before she crashes into her. The force makes them both stumble but the stranger catches herself first and Clarke feels strong arms around her hips to support her. It doesn’t help with the grocery bag though which slips off her shoulder and empties its contents onto the side walk.

“Fuck.”

Now she has to go buy more eggs, she gathers after a look at the broken eggs on the side walk. Lifting her head, she meets green eyes that study her, with thin wrinkles around the corners as a visible sign of amusement.

Clarke drops her eyes down to lips that move but she can’t hear any words. Pulling her ear buds out, she apologizes.

“God, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

The woman shakes her head.

“I was more afraid of you falling actually,” she says and with a look down at Clarke’s spilled groceries, she adds: “I’m sorry about your groceries.”

Clarke shrugs.

“That’s what you get for walking around with ear buds. I didn’t even look where I was going.”

“No, you were dancing.”

The woman is beautiful. Clarkes takes a moment to appreciate the fact. She’s probably around her age, maybe a little older. Slightly taller but that might be the shoes. Clarke is wearing sneakers. For her quick run to the store she also chose an old pair of sweat pants and a simple white t-shirt. Her day-off-look. Not quite the outfit to meet strangers.

Clarke points at the map the woman is holding.

“Are you lost?”

The woman sighs deeply.

“Actually, I am. I cannot seem to make sense of this stupid map!” She flaps the map against her thighs. “And everything looks the same. This guy gave me directions too but I still have no idea where I am or where I’m supposed to go.”

She gives a little smile, holding the map out to Clarke.

“Can you help me out?”

Clarke can’t help but notice her hands. The woman looks fit, probably works out a lot or maybe just lucky. Much unlike Clarke who has to work hard to keep her curves just right. Which is pretty much all she’s been doing lately with nobody to care about her curves but herself. It must be a year now, she muses, and Raven is already making fun of her. Why, of all times, does she have to run into the most beautiful woman she has ever seen right now and in an outfit that is anything but sexy? But then, she already has plans for tonight. She’ll be okay.

Oh shit.

“I’ll just need to pick up my stuff and then I’ll have a look,” she says quickly but the woman beats her to it.

“Oh. Oh, right. Yes, of course. I’ll help you,” the woman says, already bending down to pick up the box of cereal. She hands it to Clarke who quickly picks up her bag to stuff it inside. She can tell by the woman’s widened eyes that she wasn’t quick enough though.

“I’m afraid the eggs didn’t make it. But the milk and the bread survived the fall.”

The woman bends down again and holds both out to Clarke who stands frozen in her spot. She slowly takes the milk, then the bread. She can feel a slight panic rise up her throat when the woman comes up with the last item. Gulping, she watches as the woman looks at the lubricant.

It was meant to be a really quick run to the store to get the bare necessities. A little food to bring her over the weekend and, well, something to help her enjoy her new little friend that she was planning to get to know intimately later. She’d been looking forward to it. Now she only feels embarrassed.

“It’s very good.”

“Huh?”

“The, uh, lubricant. That’s a good one.” She holds it out to Clarke.

Clarke stares at the woman and gulps. That was a wink, wasn’t it? She wonders if she likes girls. Blonde girls. Girls that think she’s really hot.

“Thank you.” She stares at the small container for a moment after taking it from the woman’s hand. Warily lifting her eyes, she sees the green eyes study her but the woman’s face is unreadable. Despite her chiseled features, there’s nothing hard about her. Her eyes have a bright shine to them and look like the next wink is already trying to push out. She seems to be very sure of herself but it’s no surprise. Someone who looks like that has every reason to be confident.

“I know.” Clarke twists the container in her hand and the woman grins. It gives her something mischievous and Clarke likes it a lot. She realizes she’s staring and the woman has noticed. She doesn’t seem to mind though.

“So,” Clarke clears her throat, “where were you headed?”

The woman looks at her but doesn’t say anything. Clarke waits, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well,” the woman finally says, holding Clarke’s gaze. “I asked a guy for directions a little while ago but I guess I misunderstood him. I think I’m in the right area but all the streets look the same. I’m looking for …”

She finally drops her eyes and Clarke lets out the breath she’d been holding. The woman unfolds the map again and scans it.

“Where the hell are we?”

She holds out the map for Clarke to have a look. Stepping closer, Clarke takes the map from her, finding the right spot. She turns so that the woman can see as well.

“We’re here,” Clarke tries to point at the spot but when she lets go of one side of the map, it collapses. She reaches for it the same time the woman does and their fingers brush. It makes Clarke blush.

“Sorry,�� she whispers, too aware of how close the woman is to her suddenly. She smells divine. Maybe Raven is right and Clarke just really needs to get laid. Taking a deep breath, she lets the woman hold the other side of the map and points.

“We’re here,” she repeats. “Where do you want to go?”

“Oak Street.” The voice is too close to her ear and Clarke turns her head.

The woman’s lips look extremely kissable. She catches Clarke looking at them and smirks. Clearing her throat, Clarke quickly looks away.

“Hey, I live on Oak Street. You can come with me,” she says, letting go of the map.

The woman licks her lips and Clarke can’t help but stare again. She feels hot all of a sudden. God, she’s pathetic.

That’s when the rain starts.

“Ah, fuck, I didn’t bring an umbrella,” Clarke groans. “We’d better hurry.

“I’m Lexa,” the woman says as she folds up her map and puts it away. “And you are?”

“Clarke.”

“Nice to meet you, Clarke,” she gives her a long look. “I’ll come with you.”

It’s the way she says it that makes Clarke wonder if she’s heard her right.

“You’re cute when you’re blushing.”

Ah. She did hear her right.

“If we stand here any longer,” she says, “we’ll get wet.”

“Uh-huh.” Lexa inhales deeply, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I guess so. I don’t mind getting a little wet.”

Clarke’s jaw drops. She feels herself blush again and heat creep into other areas. She really needs to get home.

They set off in slightly awkward silence. It’s raining harder now and they start to run. They turn into Oak Street after a few minutes and by the time they reach her house, Clarke is panting and soaked. Lexa has fared better but she’s wearing a light coat that holds off most of the rain. And she’s not even breathing harder.

“This is my house,” Clarke says, trying to catch her breath. “Which house are you looking for?”

“Number 7.”

“That’s just a few houses down the street on the other side.” Clarke points in the direction. The house Lexa is searching for is just around a little bend.

“Do you want me to take you? I could take you,” she says eagerly. She wouldn’t mind spending a little more time with Lexa.

“Do I want you to take me?” Lexa repeats slowly. Her eyes search Clarke’s face. Clarke feels her heart beat in her throat. Should she ask her in?

“Nah, I think I’ll manage,” Lexa says the moment Clarke opens her mouth. She closes it again and presses her lips together, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Well, good luck and maybe I’ll see you around,” she says finally, letting the grocery bag slide from her shoulder. “I’d better get inside.”

“Yeah,” is all Lexa says to that. Clarke can't take her eyes off her face. Long seconds tick away before Lexa speaks again.

“Thank you for your help.” The smile she gives Clarke is blinding. Lexa tilts her head slightly. “Maybe we’ll meet again. You know what they say.”

She pauses, lowering her eyes for a moment before meeting Clarke’s gaze again.

“You always meet twice. Enjoy yourself.”

“Huh?”

Lexa laughs. Her laugh is clear and melodious and it comes from deep inside. Clarke feels herself relax at the sound of it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I thought we were on the same page.”

“On the …,” Clarke starts but trails off.

“I saw the package. And I saw the way you look at me. Never mind. I’ll go.”

She leans in closer.

“Have fun with it. I’ve enjoyed our little innuendo.”

Lexa turns around and saunters off. She has almost reached the bend before she looks back over her shoulder. Clarke is still glued to the sidewalk outside her house. When Lexa lifts her hand to wave, Clarke hugs her grocery bag in front of her to wave back. She only moves when Lexa has finally disappeared around the bend.

***

“Oh fuck.”

There’s a large mirror just inside the door. Clarke puts down the grocery bag on the dresser below it and looks up. She is horrified by what she sees. Her shirt is transparent, wet, clinging to her skin and very clearly outlining her breasts with extra emphasis on her nipples pushing through the fabric.

And she's not even wearing a bra.

“Shit.”

She can feel the tips of her ears burn, the burn sinking slowly down across her whole face.

Lexa saw her like that. And she didn’t even flinch. So that was that last look she gave her. Oh god, how embarrassing. Not that she’s ashamed of her breasts. Quite the opposite. Still, the whole thing was so damn pathetic.

Leaning her head against the mirror, she closes her eyes and groans.

Continue with chapter 2 on ao3