#also if you’re curious they have the same mars for the most part because they were all born around the same time

[girlhorrible]

ojamajo doremi astrology placements

all the ojamajos have canon birthdays! so here’s the astrological placements for each witches birthday 🎂🎉🎊:

Doremi Harukaze - July 30th 1990

Leo Sun ☀️♌️

Scorpio Moon 🌕♏️

Virgo Mercury 🎙♍️

Cancer Venus ❤️‍🔥♋️

Taurus Mars 🤜 ♉️

Hazuki Fujiwara - February 14th, 1991

Aquarius Sun ☀️♒️

Aquarius Moon 🌕♒️

Aquarius Mercury 🎙♒️

Pisces Venus ❤️‍🔥♓️

Gemini Mars 🤜♊️

Aiko Senoo - November 14th, 1990

Scorpio Sun ☀️♏️

Libra Moon 🌕♎️

Sagittarius Mercury 🎙♐️

Scorpio Venus ❤️‍🔥♏️

Gemini Mars 🤜♊️

Onpu Segawa - March 3rd, 1991

Pisces Sun ☀️♓️

Libra Moon 🌕♎️

Pisces Mercury 🎙♓️

Aries Venus ❤️‍🔥♈️

Gemini Mars 🤜♊️

Momoko Asuka - May 6th, 1990

Taurus Sun ☀️♉️

Libra Moon 🌕♎️

Taurus Mercury 🎙♉️

Aries Venus ❤️‍🔥♈️

Pisces Mars 🤜♓️

Pop Harukaze - September 9th, 1994

Virgo Sun ☀️♍️

Scorpio Moon 🌕♏️

Libra Mercury 🎙♎️

Scorpio Venus ❤️‍🔥♏️

Cancer Mars 🤜♋️

Hana “Makihatayama” - March 25th, 2000

Aries Sun ☀️♈️

Sagittarius Moon 🌕♐️

Pisces Mercury 🎙♓️

Pisces Venus ❤️‍🔥♓️

Taurus Mars 🤜♉️



[elizabethemerald]

DP/DC Imbalanced Light

AO3 

PREV

Duke was one of the first back to the Batcave when the message came through that Bruce was bringing in an injured child. He was quickly joined by the rest of the family. Most injured parties were brought straight to a hospital, no matter their age, so the entire Bat clan were curious about what made this case stand out. A potential new sibling was an all hands on deck sort of event. 

Cass and Steph joined next, Dick was picking up Dr. Thompkins, Tim had been coordinating the Bats from the Cave so was already there. Jason and Damian would probably join later, they had been further out when the call came in but Duke doubted even the two angriest members of the family would miss out on the excitement. 

Everyone currently in the cave gathered close when the Batmobile roared into the cave. Though they easily parted to allow Alfred through to Bruce’s side. The two of them pulled a young boy out of the side seat of the Batmobile. Duke grimaced behind his helmet. The kid may be the same age as Tim, or thereabouts, but he still looked far worse for wear. There was blood coating the front of his shirt and he looked far too small, like he hadn’t been eating properly. 

With a gasp the boy in Bruce’s arms was jostled awake. He tried to squirm out of his hold, but Bruce managed to keep him in hand. Eventually the boy’s wild eyes settled on the Batfam and seemed to calm. He reached a shaky, blood covered hand out to the group as Bruce carried him toward the medical room in the Batcave. 

“Signal? Wait, I need to talk to Signal! Signal!” The boy desperately cried, trying once again to fight his way out of Bruce’s hold. 

Duke was honestly surprised that the kid was calling for him. Signal was hardly the best known of Gotham’s heroes and he felt like most kids were either interested in talking to one of the Robins considering they were usually closest in age, or to Nightwing because Dick was friendly. However with a kid clearly in distress Signal followed as Bruce carried the kid into the medical room. 

“I need to talk to Signal.” The kid was telling Bruce, trying to push Alfred’s hands away from him. 

“Danny, please-” 

“No! I have to talk to him! I have to talk to him alone!” 

Alfred looked carefully at the kid, Danny apparently, then stepped back. 

“Please make the conversation quick. You are still in need of medical care, Master Daniel.”

“It’s Danny, and fine.” 

Alfred and Bruce stepped out and the glass door of the medical room closed behind them. Duke however had eyes only for the kid in front of him. Danny was obviously in pain. He kept one hand pressed tightly to his chest, and a grimace on his face. There were also several scars that ran up his neck, the worst of which was the Litchenberg figures that crept up his neck and scattered across one side of his face, even going through one of his eyes. To Duke’s Ghost Vision the scars seemed to glow and pulse, as if still remembering the electricity that had caused them. 

Danny looked at him desperately, fear marring his face as he nervously glanced towards where Bruce and Alfred had stepped out before meeting his gaze again. Duke wasn’t sure what he needed, but wanted to get this conversation over with before Dick arrived with Dr. Thompkins. She didn’t appreciate being kept waiting when she had a patient. 

“So, your name is Danny right?” Duke asked. 

“The forums say you’re a meta.” Danny asked instead of answering. His voice came out quiet and low as if he were telling a secret. “Is that true?”

Duke put out his hand, and created a small firework display across his palm with his photokinesis. It was the same trick he did when he ran into small scared children as Signal. Just something light and silly to break the tension and it did seem to bring Danny’s focus off his injuries. 

“Yes, I’m a meta.”

“Everyone knows Batman hates metas.” Danny said, glancing nervously at the door again, his voice dropping further into a whisper. “Does he hate you? Are you forced to help him? Does he… do experiments on you?”

Duke let his hand drop out of sight of Danny as he lay on the bed in the med bay. He clenched his hand into a tight fist. Dammit Bruce. You and your stupid rules. He could see that Danny was clearly just about out of his mind with fear and just as obviously had some bad experiences that were weighing on him. Duke needed to calm him down enough for Alfred and Leslie to take of him and quickly. He took a deep breath and kept his voice soft as he started speaking. 

“Batman doesn’t hate metas. He doesn’t like other heroes like Superman coming into Gotham when they don’t know how this city works. Many of our rogues are simply humans with mental illness. Even most of the goons are just poor people who are desperate for work. They don’t need some super powered demi-god smacking them down. And he’s eased up on that a lot recently.” Duke took a moment to gather his thoughts. He could hear Dick’s car driving into the cave and knew that Leslie Thompkins had arrived. “Batman has been nothing but kind to me since my parents died. He’s trained me to help protect the city I grew up in. He may not be perfect, but he won’t hurt you, and I won’t let him if he tries.” 

Danny nodded a few times, his eyes downcast, as if trying to convince himself of something before he finally looked back up at Duke. 

“I’m- I’m sort of like you.” Danny whispered. “I’m like a meta.”

The words seemed like they were physically painful for Danny to say, and considering how tightly most metas held onto the secret of their powers that wasn’t too surprising. Duke didn’t have the time to puzzle out what exactly “like a meta” meant as opposed to just being a meta, but he knew at least he could provide Danny with some comfort. 

“Well, Danny, one meta to another, I promise you Batman won’t hurt you because of your power. While you’re here you’re safe.” Duke looked up as a knock sounded at the door to the med bay. He could see Leslie and Alfred standing on the other side of the glass door. “Agent A has helped me a lot when I’ve been injured and Dr. T has cared for a lot of people, including metas that have come through her clinic. You’ll be safe with them. May I let them in?” 

Danny took just a moment longer to think about it before he nodded. 

“Will you stay with me?” His words sounded so pained and scared that Duke couldn't help but agree immediately. 

He opened the door for Alfred and Leslie, then turned his back to remove his helmet and apply a paper surgical mask. He scrubbed his hands just as the other two did before rejoining Danny at the bedside. Once the door was closed and the older two were getting ready, Duke addressed Danny. 

“Is there anything about your physiology that would be different from a non meta?” He said the words loud enough to clue in the other two. Danny nodded and gripped the rails on the patient bed tightly in fear. 

“My core temperature, heart rate and respiration rate are lower than a standard human’s.” He recited the words like he had rehearsed them many times. “My blood is considered a hazard and needs to be destroyed, preferably by incineration.” 

“Is your blood radioactive?” Thompkins asked, her experience helping other metas would be invaluable with helping Danny. 

“Radioactive?” Danny seemed confused by the question for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s uh, corrosive I think? Jazz didn't mention radioactivity when she gave me the script to memorize.” 

Leslie carefully cut Danny free of his blood soaked hoodie and shirt. Duke again had to clench his hand into a fist at the sight of a Y shaped incision that spanned Danny’s entire torso. Like an autopsy. Or vivisection. The cut had been messily stitched and stapled closed, but Danny had clearly popped a few stitches when he panicked after seeing Bruce. Surrounding the largest injury were numerous scars. Small burns, stab wounds, the Litchenberg figures continued across his torso and several precise cuts that could only be the result of deliberate torture or experimentation. 

Alfred raised his eyebrow, but didn’t comment as the two of them set to work examining the injuries. Leslie’s lips pressed into a thin line and she also kept her comments to herself. Danny seemed grateful for their reticence. Duke knew he had seen a lot of the worst of the worst during his time as a vigilante in Gotham, but this still pushed it to another level. Danny was as scarred as any of the Robins except for Jason. 

The two healers worked quickly cleaning and dressing each of the wounds, though the largest still needed more work. The lights over head flickered with each deep breath Danny took as they cared for his injuries. Duke used his powers to keep the lights steady for their work. 

“Master Danny, we will need to remove the old stitching and staples to properly close and stitch your largest injury.” Alfred said. “We can apply an IV to let you sleep through the procedure.”

Danny was already shaking his head. 

“Doesn’t work on me.” He hissed out past his gritted teeth. 

“We have meta-strength-”

“Doesn’t work on me.” Danny shook his head again. “Even the strongest painkillers and anesthetics burn off almost immediately.” 

“You have an enhanced metabolism?” Leslie asked. 

Danny shrugged, then pressed his head back against the pillow. “I was awake when mom did this to me, I can handle you fixing it awake too.” 

He refused to look at anyone else in the room even as looks of fury and rage crossed each of their faces. He reached out blindly and Duke took his hand to hold. Leslie and Alfred grimaced but nodded. If they didn’t want Danny to bleed out they needed to fix the slap-dash stitches and staples. 

Danny didn’t scream while they worked and while he gripped Duke’s hand tightly, he clearly wasn’t using even a portion of his full strength. The metal of the bed frame squeaked and whined in protest as he gripped it hard enough to leave a handprint in the metal. 

Whatever Danny’s ability was combined with his own Ghost vision to create disturbing images flash around Danny’s body, like an after image on a dark night. Neither Alfred nor Leslie reacted, so it was clear Duke was the only person who could see them. Each lingered in his eyes for a moment before fading to nothingness before being replaced by the next. 

He saw two people, one a woman and the other man with a build similar to Bruce’s leaning over Danny’s body, blades in their hands and macabre smiles etched into their faces. He saw a flaming crown burning in the air over Danny’s head. He saw two teens Danny’s age and someone only slightly older trying to lift and carry Danny while obviously fighting with someone. 

Frozen fractals appeared in the afterimages, growing with each after image into twisting and writhing tentacles. This was the most painful part of the operation as the two healers worked to pull out a staple that had gone through his skin into his sternum. Danny arched his back, his breathing coming in slow pants. When he opened his eyes they glowed like Jason’s did. Danny’s ears grew pointed and where he was biting his lip to keep from screaming his fangs grew long and pointed. Finally Danny couldn’t take any more and blacked out fully, his eyes rolling back into his head. 

For a short time the afterimages still burned their way into Duke’s vision. The fractal tentacles continued to writhe before fading. A man appeared before Duke, looking down at Danny’s body in distress. He was wearing a long, hooded cloak. In the next flash he was suddenly an old man, looking beaten and worn by the passage of time. Then he was suddenly a young child, younger even than Damian, staring down at Danny with that same distress clear on his face. Finally the man returned to his original age and looked up to meet Duke’s eyes. His head tilted to the side in curiosity before he glanced down at a pocket watch that was hanging from his cloak and gave it a firm nod and disappeared. 

The last of the flickering images slowly vanished as well, Alfred and Leslie still not noticing them at all, as the two of them finished their work and settled a blanket over Danny’s heavily bandaged torso. Duke patted Danny’s limp hand with his own before he left the med bay. The rest of the Bat fam were gathered around, but Duke made his way straight to Bruce. As he went Cass came and put a supportive hand on his shoulder. He wondered idly what his body language was telling her that had her reaching out at this moment. 

“You need to do some serious PR work on Batman’s views of metas.” Duke said shortly to Bruce. He didn’t really care what his mentor’s motivations were, they needed to change and they needed to let the public know. 

“The kid’s a meta?” Jason asked, leaning forward. 

Duke nodded, still not taking his eyes off Bruce. 

“I don’t know what he thought you would do to him, either run him off or cut him open.” Duke hesitated as he examined the momentary grief that appeared in Bruce’s eyes. “Again. Cut him open again. Someone vivisected him.”

A sharp noise sounded as something snapped in Jason’s hands. Red Hood had green light blazing in his eyes as Dick immediately moved to grab his shoulder, whether to comfort him or to hold him back, Duke didn’t know. Bruce leaned forward, his face once again stoic. 

“What are your thoughts on his abilities?” He asked. 

If Duke wasn't so suddenly exhausted he would either roll his eyes or join Jason in trying to tear Bruce a new one. Of course when he’s distressed he falls back on old, bad habits. Examining threats and planning counter plans. 

“Alfred and Leslie know enough about him to care for him for now. You can ask about the rest of his powers once he’s up and about.” Duke said. He wasn’t going to reveal Danny’s clearly hard fought secrets. “The one thing I will say is that while we can expect him to be fragile, we cannot treat him with kid gloves. Danny’s got more scars than anyone I’ve ever seen who isn’t a bat. He’s clearly a fighter and deserves to be treated like one.” 

Duke turned away. He needed to be done. He needed to just shut his brain off for a little. 

“I’m taking the next couple of days off patrol. Can someone cover for me?” 

He was half afraid that someone would accuse him of trying to cheat his way into the spot of best brother for their new potential sibling. Instead Stephanie and Dick immediately volunteered to help cover some of the daylight patrols. 

Duke walked away, calling the shadows of the cave to him. With a family half raised or trained by ninjas they were all used to using the shadows and darkness to their advantage. But none of them could command the shadows and make the darkness answer their call like Duke could. The darkness of the cave swallowed him, hiding him completely from sight as he searched for some place to sit and think about everything he had just seen. Everything that Danny must have gone through. 

@starkcravingmad, @blacksea21090, @rainybyday

[hoseoksssangels]

Synastry aspects that I’ve experienced 🫂🍫

Note: These experiences are both romantic and platonic!☝🏼

Don’t copy/steal my work!!!!

🍭Sun conjunct the Ascendant: yassssss please. Literally is in my top five. Amazing understanding between both people. It feels like both partners are on the same wave when it comes to life and their own personalities in general. I’ve also noticed that the sun person admires the ascendant person A LOT. They’re their biggest fan. 10000/10 recommended. Green flag in any sort of relationship for me 🔝

🫀Venus conjunct the Descendant: I had a strongggg strong crush on the Venus person. He wasn’t my type, but something about him still drew my attention. The feelings are mutual tho, even though the Venus person might catch feelings later on and not directly. They will start to like the Descendant person as they get to know them. This is because Venus would be opposite the Ascendant, so with this aspect the attraction is not immediate like Venus conjunct the Asc (on Venus’s part). But still the romantic attraction will be mutual 100%. Puppy love.

🦋Moon in the 12th house: idk. Idk how to feel about this placement 😩 The MOON PERSON CAN READ THE HOUSE PERSON LIKE A BOOK. The house person can do the same, but usually it is stronger on the Moon person’s side. The moon person gets to know the house person very easily. I have a funny example for this: I was once talking to a classmate and I lied to him about the homework lmao. I told him I didn’t do them. I had them but they were at home so I just told this white lie. At first he was like “okay” then later on he came to me and said “ you’re lying to me I’m sure you have done something” …when I tell you I was shocked 🧍🏻‍♀️ I was like: HOW DOES HE KNOW🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️ (well his moon was in my 12th house lmao) I was too stunned to speak because usually i can lie/hide things pretty well when I have to.😭😭 On the negative side of this placement the house person can’t never fully trust the Moon person no matter how truthful/loyal the Moon person is.

🔥Mars opposite Pluto and the Ascendant: The sexual attraction….not for the faint hearted. But I’d watch out for JEALOUSY on Mars’s side. Pluto can get pretty annoyed with Mars’s behaviour. Now with Mars being opposite the Ascendant it means that is it conjunct the Descendant. Usually the Descendant person finds the Mars person sexy. Meanwhile the Mars person’s attraction towards the Descendant will grow as time goes by. The Mars person will most likely take the lead in the relationship.

🕊Moon opposite Moon: not my favourite honestly. At first I was very curious about this aspect and as I got to experience it, I got slightly disappointed. The more “passive” Moon sign will view the more “aggressive/dominant” Moon sign as too much for them. Because this means that they’re literally the OPPOSITE of each other. Let’s suppose one feels safe being at home in their room alone, than the other one will feel safe being outside all day long with their friends. Even tho “opposite attract”,after a while it will cause some sort of conflict. It might be exciting at first and you might seem to balance each other out, but after a while it will eventually cause some arguments because both parties will never be on the same emotional wave.

���Venus square Saturn: yikes. Don’t get me started please. This aspect has no mercy. NONE. This is usually the “right person wrong time” type of situation. The Saturn person is usually the one who breaks Venus’s heart, but it’s not something that is wanted from Saturn either. It even breaks Saturn more. Usually some type of situation on Saturn’s side will make it impossible to start something with Venus, even if it’s desired from both sides. I was Saturn and no matter how much I liked Venus, I couldn’t be with him because life didn’t allow it to me the moment I met him. Tore me apart in million pieces. BIG RED FLAG. Not recommended if you don’t wanna get hurt.

[your-astro-mami]

Plz.suggest some good books on western astrology🙂🙏

I have been reading Astrology books for the past 8 years and I cannot really pick one single favourite. Some have better explanation on Houses, some on aspects, etc. However if you are new to Astrology and want to learn more, I answered this question a year ago and I will copy my answer here:

"As a beginner, I liked Linda Goodman’s books. Searching  about a placement, then reading about it on every blog that showed up in the first few pages of Google search also helped a lot. Mars in different signs, Venus in the houses, etc. Different interpretations, explanations help you understand the overall meaning. I don’t recommend reading just one blog, even if you like their way of writing the best. Same for Tumblr. The search bar is helpful because it shows a variety of explanations for the topic or placement you are interested in.

Then, forums. The Linda Goodman forum is great, you can ask questions there and you’ll get many answers most of the time. There are many topics that have been discussed - aspects, overlays, rulers of houses in natal chart,synastry, pretty much anything you can think of. Transits are greatly covered too. I think it’s a great place to interact with others interested in astrology and see different perspectives, different analysis about the same thing. What I find incredible about astrology is that everyone can share their own idea of a certain topic.

In general, I don’t think that sitting and reading just one book, no matter how much it covers, helps you understand as much as constantly reading from different sources. You shouldn’t force yourself to learn everything at once, you just have to be curious, focus on a subject at a time and then try to see how you personally understand the information you received.

Now for books. I used  Openlibrary as it has a variety of astrology books that are free to borrow and some other websites. There aren’t many foreign astrology books available in my country and I don’t want to read about astrology in a language other than English. 

The Twelve Houses ( Howard Sasportas), Lunar Nodes (Celeste Teal),  Hayden’s Book of Synastry, Predictive Astrology: The Eagle and the Lark, Saturn: A new look at an old devil - this is the book that made Saturn my favourite planet to learn about. There are many books and one thing I recommend is searching for what you’re interested in learning about, then going to the Books part of Google search and seeing the books that cover it.

The order of learning I’d recommend for those starting now:  Signs, Planets, Houses, Aspects, then rulers of houses, asteroids and everything else. Honestly, understaning the basics makes it easier to understand everything that comes after. 

For Vedic Astrology. I don’t specialize in it, even though I used to be very interested in learning about it. If you know the basics in Western astrology, it will be easier for you. I admit that for it I used Youtube as a main source for information: KRSchannel and Joni Patry."

[sagittarxus]

house degrees

the degrees of your 4th and 10th house and what that indicates for your maternal and paternal figure!!

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

aries degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures were resilient and relentless. very passionate, the mars ruled degree indicates independent, fast paced figures. kind of authoritative made sure you came out as independent as them. moody, could burst into flames at any moment however have the same energy into loving you. your parents drive for greatness is what you may have inherited.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

taurus degree on the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures knew how to nurture your senses. they had the right smells new how to provide the right warmth when you were cold. they were secure and a bit unconventional. probably had inside jokes that only you two would get. shopping trips were a must they would not allow their baby to go out looking a fool. knew how to hold their ground! your figures style from their easy going mannerisms to their amazing fashion taste is what you may have inherited.

.˚ . :*. : ✼✿　　✿ :✼✿ ୭. ୧ ୭

gemini degree on the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures were mischievous. they were naturally playful but they were always devising some form of plan. most likely talked s*** about other people behind their back’s and had a lot of communicating going on whether it’s bad or good. but there was a very specific form of communication in your household that others may not have gotten. not good with planning and scattered! your parents tongue whether you spoke their native language or just generally having a distinct speaking flow is what you inherited. + good gossiper

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

cancer degree on the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures had the need to make sure you’re ok and were a bit vengeful. they may have been a bit overly moody but also wanted to provide an emotional safe space for you. they deeply cared about you. a bit mysterious however like do you really know them? may have a warm presence. they wanted you to so badly be comfortable and feel comfortable enough to share as much as you feel. you inherited the ability to create a home for other easily and their welcoming energy.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

leo degree on the 4th/10th house axis:

your parental figures indulged you in so much love. they basically bathed you in their love. they love the attention they got and love sharing that attention with you. oh how they love it when you make them proud. basically shared their ego with you.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

virgo degree on the 4th/10th house axis:

y’all had self aware parental figures. they were calculated and also scattered it’s that mercurial energy though don’t blame them. they definitely had their critiques and had that side eye (if you have a parent with a virgo placement you know). they made sure every part of your day was flowing the way it’s supposed to and that may have been how they showed their love, by being attentive to your needs and foreseeing possible obstacle and ensuring you don’t have to deal with them. let’s just say they were prepared for the worst.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

libra degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures were relentless in a more fair way. you may have had to give a really good reason for things and provide an argument. appeal to them making sure that they knew your decisions are beneficial. they loved you through providing balance in your life. your parents style in cosmetics, garments, and way of life affected you.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

scorpio degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures was unconventional, authoritative, and may have easily affected you emotionally. they are so good at providing a space for you emotionally and want to know what’s going on in your head 24/7. they are so curious about what you could be hiding. you or your figures may have inherited something distinct or are good at reading energies/inheriting energies.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

sagittarius degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures are knowledgeable and were deemed as “chill”. wise ones with sarcastic jokes, however they may have been insensitive of your emotions. despite this they had a bright aura. you may have been more socially aware because of them compared to other kids growing up. you had a completely different perspective and your parents may have a good education. your figures beliefs affected your moral scale.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

capricorn degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures got their s*** done. they had a presence that screamed authority. they knew how to play their cards right and were maybe a bit stoic. despite this they knew went to live it up and when it was grind time! they gave a lot of energy into their public image and spent a lot of time thinking about how other view them.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

aquarius degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

ok cool calm and collected much? your figures had this like eccentric and cool persona. they loved attention…would they admit to it though??? mmmm…no. they may have been innovative and have such out of this world ideas. revelations that could have never dawned upon you unless this parent brought it up. networked so well and gave you the proper connections when you needed it.

ₓ˚. ୭. ୧ .˚.ₓ. ･*. :༅. ｡ .｡. ₓ˚. ୭ ˚. ୧ .˚ ₓ

pisces degree in the 4th/10th house axis:

your figures were understanding. they may have been hard to reach. maybe physically away or lost in their own mental plane. they found beauty in everything and may have given others too many chances. super willing to give away everything, and waste no time to save their child when they perceive that they are in danger. may have had a huge subconscious affect on you that you only started noticing later in life.

thanks 4 reading!! lyt , sisi

[mrkcore]

𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 - 𝐡.𝐫𝐣

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: huang renjun x reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fairy(faerie)!renjun, human!reader, academia aesthetic, royalcore, medieval setting

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you meet renjun one night. from that time on, you wait patiently for him every night.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): none

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨: talking to the moon - bruno mars

𝐚/𝐧: renjun fic because it’s his bday :3 (i researched a lot about faeries and fairies, but none of them fit the concept i planned, so i kinda just merged some stuff i saw, so this probably isn’t the most accurate, and it is fiction so yeah) i tried to be a lot more descriptive in this one (cuz i’m really bad at that), so pls gimme feedback that would really be appreciated tyvm <3

a part of @nakamotocore​​‘s cliffhanger collab!

(comment here to be added to the taglist!)

another day has come to the end. you’re finally back in your room, sitting at your desk, trying to finish the work you didn’t finish from your classes.

you sigh. even after lighting all of the candles in your room, you’re still feeling unmotivated to continue your language work.

so you pull up your mythology textbook, and take a sneak peek at tomorrow’s topic: fairies.

“fairy, also spelled faerie or faery, a mythical being of folklore and romance usually having magic powers and dwelling on earth in close relationship with humans. it can appear as a dwarf creature typically having green clothes and hair, living underground or in stone heaps, and characteristically exercising magic powers to benevolent ends; as a diminutive sprite commonly in the shape of a delicate, beautiful, ageless winged creature dressed in diaphanous white clothing, inhabiting fairyland, but making usually well-intentioned intervention in personal human affairs; or as a tiny, mischievous, and protective creature generally associated with a household hearth.”

reading on, you’re slowly feeling your eyes droop, tiredness flooding your system. before you know it, your eyes close and bring you to a quiet slumber.

something is tickling your nose, and more is tickling your arm as well. 

did you forget to close your window? or is it the dust from your shelves coming to haunt you for not dusting them for over a month?

you get up drowsily, trying to find the source of the disruption.

your candles are still lit, but it’s still dark outside, so it’s probably not morning yet. you turn around to grab the shawl you discarded on your bed, and put it on.

you reach out to close your window, but to your surprise, there’s a boy. sitting on the ledge of your window. 

and he has wings, sparkling transparent wings.

you’re in awe. from this angle, the moonlight shines just right for his beautiful wings to glisten as they flutter. 

you don’t realize, but you’re slowly walking towards him. your body gravitating towards the strange but stunning creature. 

he hears the floorboard creaking underneath your feet, and turns around to look at you.

you’re shocked by his appearance. 

he’s heavenly. his round, gentle doe eyes are iridescent, sparking while he’s staring at you. dainty, plump, parted lips, and a button nose. you’ve never seen anyone’s features as pretty as his. 

“oh, you are awake now.” his mouth turns upwards into a smile. you’re baffled. “i hope i was not the cause that woke you, how did you rest?”

the creature turns around and flies right next to you. you instinctively sit down on your bed, and he follows suit. 

“i-, i slept well?” you answered hesitantly. you check your watch discreetly, displaying the time, 1:35 am. the boy–or being, sitting besides you catches the action, and leans in to view the interesting gadget. 

he scares you a little bit, and you quickly scramble to put it back into your pocket. he looks at you with great curiosity.

you wonder if he’s ever been in contact with humans before.

“so uh, what is your name?” you try to strike up a conversation now that you know he is able to speak. 

“i do not really have one, but you can call me renjun.” he beams. “and you? what should i call a beautiful lady like yourself?”

you’re blushing with how polite, charming, and poised he is.

“my name is y/n.”

and that’s where it all began. 

renjun came to your window every night when the moon comes at its brightest. it became part of your routine, and thankfully you didn’t have a roommate, so you stay up every night just talking to him.

for some reason, your lack of sleep did not affect you as much as you thought it would. the headmaster, teachers, maids, they always told students to get a full night’s rest so you’d be at your fullest learning capacity. but you’ve never felt better. you never asked what renjun was, it never came up during your late night discussions. you knew from his appearance that he was somewhat like a fairy, but you never asked him about anything, even though you were always curious. 

renjun’s sudden arrival into your life made you feel so bubbly and warm every single day. all of the girls in your class have noticed, so has your homeroom professor. 

“y/n! y/n!” they called to you during lunch break the day after your first encounter with renjun. “you seem so happy today even though we had an exam, what are you smiling so brightly about?”

you wanted to keep him as your little secret. so you just smugly smirked at them.

“none of your business.” you bite back before turning around to walk away.

they all squealed. 

“it’s a boy!”

“definitely a boy.”

“nothing else would be as exciting!”

whispers went around the classroom, and the girls were happily gossiping amongst themselves. your teacher even giggled a bit when she thought the class wasn’t looking. your classmates ask every single day, but you don’t cave. still pleased with the spectacle you’ve stirred up.

but it’s true, you’ve been much happier. strolling the school grounds with a skip in your step, a cheerful mood during class every day, and finishing your homework (renjun insists you do it before he visits so you are free to talk).

you’re so excited for your late night chats with him that you rush to your room to finish your work for the day. surprising all of your teachers of your newfound burst of productiveness.

you feel over the moon.

until he disappeared.

renjun stopped showing up at your window one day, out of the blue. no explanation, no nothing. it’s not like you had any other form of communication with him. so he completely went off the grid. leaving you by yourself.

for the first week, you didn’t accept that he just left. so like usual, you patiently waited for his arrival with the moon shining brightly.

but he never came. for weeks and weeks, you’d wait to no avail of his presence. 

you know he’s somewhere out there. somewhere far away. you want him back. 

your neighbours think you’re crazy. 

sitting at your open window, staring at the moon, and barely getting any sleep.

but they don’t understand. 

no one had ever listened to you as attentively as he did. no one cared to listen to you talk about your hopes and dreams, how your day went, what colour you found the prettiest (if you were wondering, it is green, renjun’s wings are a pretty light green), what pastries you enjoyed stuffing yourself with, your comfort book, no one. 

he’s all you have.

so like a hopeless, smitten, lovestruck girl, you sat quietly with the cold breeze blowing into your room at night from your window.

weeks go by, and you’re still waiting for his visits. at night, when the stars light up your room, you sit by yourself, talking to the moon. trying to get to him, in hopes he’s on the other side, talking to you too.

you’re feeling like you’re famous, the talk of the town.

your bright spirit you had before was gone, and you kept your head down at day. 

everyone was talking about how you got dumped, or got your heart broken by the boy you were head-over-heels for. they say you’ve gone mad; yeah, you’ve gone mad.

but they don’t know what you know.

‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back.

around 3 months later, you’re sitting at your desk, finishing work. you look up, and suddenly, the moon starts lighting up brighter, flashing.

you’re in disbelief, did the moon just, blink at you? 

then, a shadow of a figure with wings appears, and waves at you. 

that familiar figure, renjun.

was this renjun reassuring you that he hasn’t abandoned you? 

this ignites that spark inside of you. not thinking rationally anymore, no longer somber, you instantly get up to scramble to the window to sit down.

while you’re speaking, the moon blinks, as if he’s talking back.

so again, at night, when the stars light up your room, you sit by yourself, talking to the moon. trying to get to him.

until that stops too. 

the moon stops responding to you. no signs of anyone, and the moon looks more dull than before.

you wonder to yourself, “am i a fool, who sits alone, talking to the moon?”

you still stay up to mindlessly talk to the moon, in hopes he’s on the other side, talking to you too. does he ever hear you calling? ‘cause every night, you’re talking to the moon, still trying to get to him.

then, one night, you fall asleep again. 

trying to study for your project, your mythology textbook is still open. you don’t mean to, but school has been tiring, and you couldn’t help it.

but you wake up to the familiar tingling sensation on your arm. you open your eyes, and see renjun’s gaze on you. head rested on his hands, with his arms on your desk.

is this a dream? you feel faint. is this really happening? was he really in front of you? 

your eyes roam renjun’s face desperately. his eyes, his hair, his moles, his nose, those kissable lips. all the same like you remember.

“you’re awake.” he says. “i’m sorry i was gone for so long, i had some complications and was unable to travel.” 

renjun smiles, apologetically.

“i’ve missed you, sweetheart. how have you been?” 

your eyes zoom in on his lips.

“kiss me.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. renjun seems surprised as well.

“sweetheart, are you sure you want th–” 

before he even finishes, you crash your lips onto his. 

they’re as soft as you imagined. his lips taste sweet, like the nectar of the beautiful flowers in your school gardens. 

he deepens the kiss, and you let him. feeling over the moon.

when the both of you pull away, things go back to normal. renjun is diligently listening to your rambles, and you’ve never felt better.

when the moon starts to disappear, you realize it’s time for him to go.

“you should probably go home.” you said, sadly. “you said you had some important things to do, so i must not distract you from your work.”

“oh sweetheart,” renjun chuckles. “but i’m already home.” he says with a eerie smile that makes you stop.

“pardon me?” you reply, slightly terrified by his change in tone.

“you heard me little human,” he licks his lips menacingly. you flinch when his hand travels up to your face to caress your cheek. “i’m already home.”

tears are flooding your eyes as renjun’s fingers grow longer into claws and he wraps them around your airway.

“you humans think you can just come into our homes and destroy our land, families, our lives.” he growls. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM US.” 

renjun screams, his hand forcing you to look at him. his eyes are no longer the soft doe ones you knew, filled with rage and hurt as he poured his emotions onto you.

“now we’re taking it back.” he snickers. “this stupid building you built upon our old home, it will be gone.”

his hand squeezes tighter on your neck and you’re quickly losing consciousness.

“and we’re starting with you.” renjun taunts, his normal hand coming up to your face to caress it again. 

“it’s a shame thought,” he shrugs, seemingly defeated. “i kinda liked you.”

he drops you on the floor, and you’re gone. 

tears still flowing out of your eyes as renjun walks out of your room.

“unlike the fairies, faeries are considered to be evil, horrid, and mischievous creatures. the faeries are evil, unfriendly, and cruel spirits. the faeries are a bit dangerous also. humanity destroying most of their lives, they seek revenge to take back what once was theirs.”

©mrkcore, 2021.

[mythicamagic]

Unorthodox: a Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome is pleasantly surprised to receive a present from Sesshoumaru for White Day... until she glimpses the contents inside her gift box.

AN: Written for the Sesskag 2021 Big Bang event on tumblr! @chierafied​ 

I was paired with @milomai-art​ and here’s their lovely artwork: https://milomai-art.tumblr.com/post/648766972634513408/unorthodox-mythicamagic-inuyasha-a-feudal

Rated K+

Words: 3,000

You can read it on Ao3, Dokuga or fanfiction.net. 

Unorthodox

Valentine's day had come and gone, with a notable difference this year for Kagome compared with the last lonely three;

Her return to the Sengoku Jidai.

To celebrate reuniting with her beloved friends, she'd gone all out. Everyone received gifts, right down to Myoga and Jaken; no one had been excluded.

For all her efforts, however, she expected nothing in return. Though she'd explained the concept to the Inutachi, Sango and Miroku were much too busy looking after their children to keep track of dates, Shippo was often away at Kitsune school and Inuyasha had been absent as of late. Besides that, since their relationship had ended, the subject of Valentine's had become an awkward one. She'd had to stress the platonic intent behind her gift to him.

Therefore, Kagome had pretty much forgotten all about White Day by the time it rolled around.

Exiting Kaede's hut with a tub of water in her arms, intending to give the old miko's horse a good scrub down, she dug in her heels the second exquisite silks, armour and a fur pelt registered- having blinked into existence before her. Kagome gaped, swaying. Water sloshed, some spilling to their feet.

"Uh hi," looking up at grave, handsome features, she arched a brow. Sesshoumaru stared at her fervently. "Nice to see you, Sesshoumaru," adjusting her grip, Kagome sidestepped him and flashed a warm smile, used to his minimalistic approach to conversation by now. "Do you need something? Inuyasha isn't here. I think he's helping the next village over repair a-"

"I am not here for him."

Kagome noted his succinct tone, sounding more defensive than usual. Setting down the wooden tub carefully, she straightened, tilting her head. "Then what are you here for?"

"White Day."

"White... ah!" Kagome gasped, "that's right! How did you know about that?" she blinked, noticing he looked extra grumpy today. His jaw ticked, golden eyes narrow. Slowly, the miko brightened. "No way. Did you... get me something?" she breathed, strangely touched.

Of all people, Sesshoumaru had remembered? Was she dreaming?

A hand thrust out stiffly towards her, balancing a small box upon his palm.

Accepting it with thanks, heat touched her cheeks. Weird. She really shouldn't be indulging this- or feeling kind of happy. It didn't mean anything to be pleased, right? Was she even allowed to feel warm and fuzzy towards her ex's brother?

Opening the lid, Kagome tried to squash her excitement- peering down. Slowly, she reached in, retrieving a silky soft thing.

It appeared to be made of something long, silver and fine, the material woven into a pretty design. A bracelet of silk, if she could hazard a guess.

"Um, thank you," Kagome raised her gaze. "What's it made of, out of curiosity? It's very soft."

Sesshoumaru appeared pleased, preening a little. "Only the finest material."

"Really?" she stroked it. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble on my account."

He scoffed, midsummer gaze smiling slightly as his tone became haughty and prideful, "it was no trouble to use this one's own hair."

Kagome dropped the bracelet back into the box. "Whut?"

Lithe fingers combed indulgently into his fall of lustrous silver hair, "you need not be alarmed. The strands grew back quickly."

That isn't what's alarming me, Kagome silently screamed. Now that she was paying attention though, the pale bracelet really did resemble the demon lord's long flowing locks.

Her hand recoiled a little from the box. "W-well, um... thank you very much," Kagome said thinly. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Truly."

Sesshoumaru's keen, piercing eyes roved over her strained features, voice deepening. "If you do not wish to accept it-"

"N-no, I do! I'll wear it right now!" Kagome grabbed it madly, fiddling with the thing while repressing a shudder. She tried and failed to secure the clasp, stiffening when large hands closed over her hand.

The demon lord leaned forward- that same hair currently being secured around her wrist falling free from behind a pointed ear. Silver strands draped down like a gossamer curtain, tickling her flushed, sensitive skin.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, expression unreadable.

Shifting her wrist, Kagome observed the threads of hair wrapped around it. His bracelet felt odd, the concept totally foreign. However, she could feel how much the gesture meant to him. She didn't fear offending him because of his dark temper- more because she cared about his feelings and wanted to nurture any hint of a bond between them.

"Thank you," Kagome said. "No one else brought me anything today, so I'm...I'm grateful."

Even if it was the weirdest thing she'd ever received. A bracelet made of hair wasn't exactly traditional.

Straightening, Sesshoumaru's lips thinned as his eyes flickered with confusion.

Kagome blinked, wondering what else he'd envisioned her saying.

"Hn," inclining his head regally, he pivoted sharply and began stalking away quickly, giving a swift kill to the conversation.

---

Without a frame of reference for how long he desired her to wear it, Kagome tugged her sleeve down to hide the bracelet from curious eyes during the next few days. She tried to ignore the sensation of hair continually brushing her skin.

"I wonder if it means something important," Kagome examined it while sprawled out upon a grassy hill, taking a break from her miko duties Kaede had started dishing out ever since her return.

Sesshoumaru had seemed extremely serious while giving it to her. Then again, the gift could've meant nothing. Maybe his hair was just THAT valuable in the Daiyoukai's opinion. She snorted, twisting her wrist and watching silver threads catch on sunlight, making it shine white. "His ego is big enough. I'd believe it. Heh, maybe he'd also give me one of his eyelashes, or a fingernail or..."

Why was Sesshoumaru heading towards her?

Sitting up and fussing absentmindedly with her hair- removing a few stray leaves- Kagome felt heat flood her face.

Okay, no- she shook herself, putting a firm lid over the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Too strange. Enough of that.

The Daiyoukai stopped a few feet away, expression detached. Kagome knew by now to ignore it in favour of looking into his eyes. They were intent and unblinking today, hinting at his seriousness.

"Hi," she said, patting a spot next to her. "It's rare for you to visit the village again during the same week. What's up?"

Sesshoumaru cocked his head to the side at her odd term. Kagome bit her lip, finding it endearing. Her attention strayed, noticing yet another box sitting innocently upon his hand.

She paled. Oh no.

Gracefully sweeping himself down onto one knee- he thrust the new box out towards her, giving Kagome a dizzying sense of Déjà vu.

I was joking about the fingernails. Please be something normal. Please.

Accepting it gingerly, blue eyes flicked up towards him. "White day is over, you know."

"This one is aware."

"So...why the new gift?"

Sesshoumaru pretended to be interested in the gentle bubbling stream not too far away. "Because it pleases me to give it to you."

He was so difficult to figure out. Not wanting to squash his newfound sense of generosity, Kagome carefully removed the lid.

The contents did not look promising.

Trying not to jump to conclusions, she reached in and removed the long necklace. A single solitary tooth hung from the chord.

"Ah," Kagome squinted. "Open your mouth a sec."

Sesshoumaru's lips parted wordlessly, mouth opening wider to reveal a gap where one of his sharp canines used to be.

"This...is yours?" she asked weakly.

Sesshoumaru closed his mouth and nodded primly. "It will serve you well, should you have need of it."

In what way would I ever have need of a tooth? a wrinkle marred her brow as she considered it, coming to a small realisation. "To make a sword from?"

"Hn."

Well, that explained a small piece of the puzzle. In a very 'Sesshoumaru' way- it almost seemed a little sweet, practical even.

However, this did not help assuage her naturally squeamish reaction while looking at the freshly plucked tooth.

"Thanks," she said lamely. "I-I'm sure it'll be very useful if I visit Totosai in the future."

Her answer didn't seem to be what he was looking for. Sesshoumaru's gaze flitted from her to the dangling fang. "Females... prefer jewels, make-up or clothing, I suppose."

Kagome scratched her cheek, "depends on the lady- but you really don't have to worry, Sesshoumaru," laying a hand over pale knuckles resting upon his knee, she gave a squeeze. "I'm touched you're being so thoughtful. There's no need to give me anything else though, I have more than enough."

His nostrils flared, jaw setting stubbornly. He drew himself up to stand, "you are too modest."

Feeling thoroughly discombobulated, Kagome could only watch as he pivoted with all the grace of a dainty dancer, stalking away with billowing sleeves.

---

For two weeks, Sesshoumaru continued visiting the village at random intervals. His flair for turning up at the most unexpected times made it difficult for Kagome to anticipate his visits. Sometimes he'd arrive bright and early, others- nearing nightfall. Occasionally he'd visit Rin, but their interactions seemed distracted. Rin would whisper fiercely to him while gesturing in Kagome's direction, but he'd ultimately leave without speaking a word to the miko.

It was odd, confusing. She'd used to think of Sesshoumaru as a fairly straightforward demon. As of late, he'd been downright unpredictable and... flakey. She kind of missed their previous easy interactions when she'd pick herbs and prattle on while he occasionally offered a word or two. His silence had felt comfortable rather than awkward.

I don't know how to get that back, Kagome thought sadly.

A chilly wind passed by, breeze rushing around her exposed neck. Adjusting her miko garb, she sneezed, shivering a little. Autumn would soon be on its way.

The heat of an intense stare sent a new chill down her spine. Kagome turned, sensing it- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing at her intently.

Was it her imagination, or did he seem absurdly pleased? As though struck by a revelation.

As was typical behaviour for him, the demon lord began walking away without a word.

---

Trudging back from training in the woods, Kagome shouldered her bow while walking around a thick tree- only to quickly stop, almost bumping straight into polished armour.

Sesshoumaru stood before her, holding another box. This time it was larger, more of a rectangular shape.

"M-more?" Kagome squeaked. Her heart thundered. It felt like so long since they'd last spoken.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head gravely, "hn."

Biting her lip and somewhat dreading what cast-off part of him could be inside this time, Kagome grasped the lid and removed it- only to slam it abruptly back down.

"What… what is that?" she asked thinly.

Sesshoumaru's lashes fell shut and slid open in an unruffled blink.

"My fur."

I thought as much.

Kagome removed the lid with trepidation once more, lifting out the lush, soft coat. Even while her hands sank into the cloud-like material, blue eyes remained wide with distress.

Sesshoumaru seemed to guess her line of thinking. "It is discarded fur that I have shed, not cleaved off. Do not worry."

"O-okay," she said thinly. It's still weird though. Too weird. Imagine if I'd made a coat of shed skin.

It was so odd that Kagome felt a line needed to be drawn, placing it back into the box and numbly accepting it from him. "Sesshoumaru… I have to put my foot down now. I appreciate your gifts but I can't accept any more."

He stiffened, the burning embers in his eyes freezing into glassy orbs.

Kagome rushed to explain, "it's very sweet of you, and I appreciate the thought. I'm just not, uh…sure they're suited for a human. Besides, you seem to be worrying about what to get me instead of talking to me. I'd rather we just spoke like old times instead of this awkwardness."

"I see," he said stiffly.

She took a step forward, eyes widening when he took one back and turned. "This one did not intend to give you things deemed inappropriate and unwelcome. Farewell."

"Wait-!"

Too late, Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hand.

Kagome grit her teeth, sighing and balancing the box on one hand. Damn it.

Slowly, Kagome lowered the box onto a tree stump and gingerly lifted the coat. It felt lush and divine, her hands disappearing within the sheer volume of fur. Sliding her arms into the sleeves and putting it on, Kagome wrapped it around herself, feeling like she were enclosed in a giant fluffy cloud. His static youki brushed her skin intimately, fanning out from the strands.

It was big. It was a little ridiculous. It was wonderful.

Kagome groaned, burying her face in her hands. Sure, the idea of him collecting his shed fur to sew into a coat was strange by human standards, but actually wearing the coat, she now understood his simplistic intent.

He'd just wanted her to be warm.

"You're such a weirdo," she grumbled, blushing and dipping her nose into the fur. It smelled like him; wild forests, with the hint of refined smoke from a pipe.

Maybe she was weird too.

---

He was absent for an entire month.

Sesshoumaru figured it would help ease the sting of rejection. The second he caught Kagome's fragrance, however, it was like an old wound had been ripped open again.

His lips thinned, firmly keeping all emotion locked tight behind a placid mask as he visited Rin.

Chatting with the girl allowed him to soothe his stung ego for a while, distracted by Rin's news about the village and her training. Occasionally she would mention the miko and his chest would tighten again. How pathetic of him.

Once his cup lay empty and Rin mentioned the need to leave in order to assist the older miko, Sesshoumaru took his leave.

Stepping foot outside Kaede's hut, however, he froze.

Kagome stiffened before him, swathed in furs- his furs- he dimly noted.

More than that, lithe fingers curled around the fang resting at her collarbone. The silver bracelet of his hair caught the light before disappearing beneath the length of her sleeve.

Kagome's cheeks heated, and she thrust out a box, letting it rest on her palm.

"I asked around," she muttered. "Inuyasha was clueless, and Shippo kept laughing whenever I tried to ask him what was going on. Luckily Myoga happened to stop by," blue eyes pinned him in place. "You could've told me what all the gifts meant instead of leaving me in the dark."

Sesshoumaru did not accept the box just yet. "I thought my intentions were achingly clear."

Embarrassingly so, for a proud demon.

"Not for humans!" she huffed, lowering her hands a little. "I was confused the whole time! How was I supposed to know that you were giving me a betrothal bracelet, or that the fang was for any half-demon children I might have when they need a sword? I kind of figured out the coat, but I didn't know it represented your intentions to provide for me."

Sesshoumaru stared. Oh. Perhaps he should've listened to Rin about courting the miko after all.

Cheeks scarlet, Kagome sighed, lifting the lid of her box off and removing something from inside.

"May I?"

Sesshoumaru nodded dazedly, golden eyes widening. His entire being thrummed, heart picking up speed.

Shifting closer, Kagome pushed some dark locks behind her ear, the length slightly shorter than usual. Sliding a black bracket around his striped wrist, Kagome swallowed. Her hair had been woven into a band much like his, though nowhere near as intricate.

The demon stared at it, fixated. Baser instincts purred.

Molten gold eyes slowly raised to pin her with a disarmingly reverent look. He spoke no words of poetry, no love or longing, but it was there, he hoped. Abundantly clear. Kagome seemed to recognise it for what it was now.

She smiled a little, hugging her arms and scuffing her foot. "Don't get the wrong idea; I'm not saying I'll jump into marriage with you, but it turns out I'm kind of interested in dating you. Really... interested," Kagome forced out, obviously embarrassed but soldiering on. "If it's okay, we could...do that," she finished lamely.

Sesshoumaru took a step forward, invading her personal space. She blushed exactly the way he'd hoped she would, babbling. "So the uh- think of the bracelet as a dating bracelet! Maybe down the line it could...it could become an engagement thing," she murmured, voice dimming in the wake of his proximity.

"Hn," honeyed eyes smiled, careful claws unfurling to find her chin. "That would be pleasing," he uttered in a faint rumble, tipping his head down. "I accept."

Satisfaction rolled through him fiercely as she tilted her head just so- lips meeting and brushing feather-light against his. Emboldened, Kagome's hands found the collar of his hankimono just as he took her by the waist as though entering a dance, tightening.

Sesshoumaru let his eyes flutter shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. He could smell her so bright and clear—the sweetness of tangerines, faint, exotic soaps—and her mouth so warm. Kagome kissed him, firmer, hand finding his hair- fingers curling. His breath began to roughen the longer their kisses went on. His heart chanted the truth of it all- 'yours.'

If the foolish woman wanted him, he'd already given himself to her. The ticklish brush of her hair claiming his wrist made him smirk against her mouth, glimpsing his own band of white around hers and revelling in a plume of possessive pride.

Perhaps it was unorthodox by her standards, but they were not exactly normal themselves. And so, Sesshoumaru drowned himself in the curious, raw newness of the strange miko, surrendering to all the oddities that would likely follow during their strange courtship.

End

[atmostories]

Your Yandere!Terry Silver ficlet was positively amazing and just so very detailed, nuanced and in-character that I absolutely must request more if you're willing to write more. Really, whatever comes to your mind, doesn't even matter, so long as you grace us with more material (greedy grubby hands) - Reading about this dark, evil man just being so sweet for someone melts my heart. 🖤

A gift to my dearest anon, @kingkarate and @villains-are-sexy​ ♡ ♡ ♡ The first time he noticed you was after Margaret had laid out your employee file in front of him. You'd been working in the logistics department for two years, your record was clean, all of your performance evaluations were very good, if not exemplary. Margaret had personally recommended you so really that was all the evidence he needed that you had at least some value. Her team needed an extra member due to an increased workload and a reorganisation of staff. Margaret was going to retire in a few years and needed to find a replacement before she left.

Terry tried not to think about her being replaced, it irked him greatly to be losing such an asset, and a good friend. There was still plenty of time, for now. You were moved into Margaret's team on a trial basis in order to assess your suitability. Whenever Terry would look across the office, you were always working. You seemed to speak to other coworkers only when necessary. At first he assumed you were being studious and trying to make a good impression for Margaret, but he soon realised that that was simply how you were, quiet, withdrawn. You also treated people the same, no matter who they were or what sort of social rank they held, you would give the same polite smile to him as you would to one of the office cleaners. It was odd. He expected you, like most other rational people, to show him greater respect, he did own the entire company after all. A few words from him and he could render you jobless and homeless, begging for scraps out on the streets. And yet you seemed so unphased by the power he yielded. He got into the habit of calling you into his office for updates on the various projects you were working on. Margaret would always keep him informed of the latest developments, but he liked to hear how you would describe them. He also liked hearing you call him Sir. He'd corrected you when he first met you in person. "Thank you, Mr. Silver," you had said. "No. . .thank you, Sir," he murmured softly, hoping to provoke some reaction. "Of course. Thank you, Sir" you replied plainly. No one else called him Sir. He wondered how long it would take for you to notice that. During your lunch breaks, rather than head off with other coworkers or go to the staff room, you would leave by yourself to take a walk when the weather was decent or you'd eat at your desk. Before you were offered a position at DynaTox Industries, a background check had been carried on you to ensure that you would be. . .malleable if certain circumstances arose. If you found out something you shouldn't, you would be in a weak position, easily blackmailed. Terry requested a more in depth background check and was rather pleased when one of his private investigators handed him a sizeable file containing all of the facets of your life, along with a fortnight's worth of photos while you were under surveillance. It outlined where you went aside from work and as anticipated, it was all very dull. Your financial situation was practically destitution in Terry's eyes. What was most intriguing about your file was your ex who was currently in prison for assault and battery. You were the unlucky victim. As he read the police report and saw the pictures of your injuries, he ignored the swell of anger in his gut. The transcripts of your interviews detailed the abuse you had endured. Was this why you were so withdrawn? So focused on your work rather the people around you? While you were at the office, he broke into your apartment for further investigation. It was comically small. Your possessions were, he supposed, modest for someone so economically challenged as you. Your taste in music was not as sophisticated as his own, hardly surprising. There wasn't much food in the refrigerator or in the kitchen cupboards. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a hundred dollar bill. Perhaps you didn't see these very often. After scrunching up the bill, he threw it haphazardly onto the floor, wondering whether there would be a smile on your face when you found it. What was he thinking, of course you'd be happy. He made a note to bump your salary enough so that you could move somewhere else, somewhere safer, somewhere which didn't automatically make him want to shower and scrub himself clean. Rather than have Margaret give you the good news, you were called into his office. Terry explained that you'd be permanently assigned to Margaret's team due to your performance. He mentioned a report you did the week prior, highlighting that it was good work. Rather than thank him, you responded by saying that the conclusion needed to be improved and you weren't sure about certain aspects of the analysis. “I said it was good work,” he told you with blunt finality, giving you a harsh stare. Your lips parted open slowly, your eyes were wide, your expression almost one of disbelief. Was it so difficult for you to accept a compliment? To accept praise when it was given to you? “Did I not?” He asked, prompting you to speak. “Uhh, yes. I'm sorry, Sir,” you mumbled back, shoulders hunching even further. Something seemed to twinge in his chest and he wasn't exactly sure what it was. Was it pity? No, it wasn't that, it was almost disappointment, like seeing wasted potential. He invited you along to an executive meeting, his excuse to include you was to take minutes, but really he wanted your opinion on the people who were present, their behaviour, their opinions. Terry wanted to assess how observant you were of other people, and he also wanted to test how candid you would be with him. The meeting went on as usual, dull, insipid. At least your presence offered a little distraction. After it was finally over, he invited you to join him for lunch at one of his favourite restaurants. He could see you eyeing the place curiously, taking in its lush décor and finely dressed staff. The purpose was to put you on edge, to make you feel abysmally underdressed and out of sorts. He had the whole corner of the restaurant cleared for just the two of you, he wanted to examine your every reaction without any disturbance. With drinks and appetisers ordered, he began his questioning. “Do you think Mr. Elroth would be suitable for the New York merger?” He asked, sipping some champagne. “I don't think he likes you,” you responded without hesitation. He pulled the glass away from his mouth, rather taken back by your honesty. “Why do you say that?” “He didn't like listening to you. He kept looking away, he even rolled his eyes a few times.” “And why do you think that is?” “Well. . .maybe it's because you're too young and you're too willing to take risks. He seems very traditional and set in his ways.” “Hmm.” Terry drank the rest of the glass, motioning to a waiter for a refill. He continued to ask questions throughout the main course and dessert. Your answers were always honest, you didn't try to soften any of your responses for him. He liked that. You reminded him of Margaret. Unblemished opinions were hard to come by for someone like Terry. They were always marred by people wanting to impress him, people trying to make the best impression possible, people looking for favours. He was beyond the grasp of normal society and yet you sat in front him, eating several courses which cost most, if not all, of your monthly salary, totally unphased and giving your opinions freely. He'd never once thought it possible for Margaret to be replaced by someone of her calibre, but perhaps he'd been too quick to make that assumption. When you moved into a new apartment, he had a forged deposit and contents insurance rebate drawn up and sent to you. The next day you had actually gone out and bought lunch rather than bring your own. He'd followed you to the little cafe and he noticed a small, satisfied smile on your face as you tucked into the food. How curious that something so insignificant would give you such joy? Was it really so difficult for you to get by? He bumped your salary again, you were supposed to be happy, but instead Margaret had told him that you went straight to the finance team to query it as a mistake. He scoffed out a laugh, incredulous at your behaviour. Was it so hard to accept when something good happened to you? He had you brought into his office, explaining to you clearly that any future queries regarding your salary would be directed to him personally. “But it's almost triple my original salary, I'm not sure that. . .” you trailed off when he stared down at you. He watched your throat as you swallowed nervously at his proximity. Raising an eyebrow at you, he waited for the proper response. “Thank you, Sir.” He didn't bother to stop himself from smiling. A few seconds later, a shy smile pulled up your lips. Financial security might have offered you some peace of mind, but Terry knew there was more work to be done. He looked over the police reports again, thinking about disposing that piece of trash who had hurt you. Surely that would make you happy? No longer living in the same world with the person who had almost beaten you to death? He had Dennis make some enquiries, found a trustworthy guy who was in the same prison as your ex. After that it was simply a matter of payment for services rendered. He had requested a slow, painful death and the photos from the autopsy showed just that. The unfortunate incident happened over the weekend, ensuring that you would have found out by Monday morning. Instead of happiness on your face, you seemed sad, lost even. He called you into his office, trying to hold back the rage growing in his gut. He had gotten rid of someone who had inflicted so much suffering on you, why weren't you happy? Why weren't you pleased? Surely you couldn't still care for that bastard? Did you really love so carelessly, so irrevocably? “You're distracted,” he stated. Your eyes were focused on the floor, you were making an effort to stop your leg from shaking. “I'm sorry, Sir. I received some. . .news yesterday.” “Bad news?” “I'm not really sure.” “Tell me what happened.” You looked up at him, your eyes were filled with hurt. This wasn't meant to happen, why the fuck were you upset? “Someone I knew. . . passed away. But he wasn't. . .he wasn't a good person.” “And you're grieving him?” “No,” you replied softly. “I should but. . .is it wrong to feel glad when someone's died?” “Not when they're bad.” You nodded a few moments later, a small grin finally lightening your expression. Terry had to repress a laugh. The only thing you were upset about was that you didn't feel upset, you didn't feel bad at all. The thought made him preen in delight, he'd done right by you after all. It took a while, but you were finally starting to lose that heavy burden you'd been carrying all this time. The change in you was not particularly obvious, you didn't start to suddenly make friends with everyone in the office. Your smile was a little wider, you walked with more confidence. In one of his meetings, as you sat right next to him, he whispered an amusing observation about one of the investors into your ear, and you snorted out a laugh, barely able to contain yourself. A week after that, something unexpected happened, something he still didn't quite know how to feel about. Mr. Elroth stood in front of Terry, blabbering on about nothing of interest. He'd gestured for you to come over to give him a point of interest. You stood dutifully by his side, but when Mr. Elroth reached out his grubby hand, about to touch Terry's forearm, you quickly stepped in front of him, blocking Mr. Elroth from touching him. You interjected yourself into the conversation, successfully distracting Mr. Elroth and causing him to lower his arm. Terry dismissed him a couple minutes later and pulled you to one side. “What was that?” “I thought you might have wanted a distraction, I didn't mean to be rude, Sir.” “Why did you move in front of me?” “Mr. Elroth was going to touch your arm,” you explained like it was obvious. “And?” “You. . .you don't like to be touched.” “Excuse me?” “You always initiate, you don't like it when other people touch you. I'm sorry if I've made the wrong assumption. It wasn't my intention to cause any offence, Sir.” He continued to stare at you, letting the words sink in. Margaret most conveniently called you away like she could read his mind and Terry nodded at her in thanks, thinking that he'd have to review her retirement plan, add in a couple more vacation options, maybe an extra masseuse for the weekends. He didn't know how he felt. He was agitated by what you had said, almost uncomfortable. That wasn't something you were meant to notice. Terry took great lengths to not show any kind of weakness, and shying from physical contact was certainly one. For you to not only see it, but then to try and protect him? Even though you’d been abused in the past? Even though you shied away from physical contact yourself? He clenched his fists, his heart aching in a way it never had before. That night, he broke into your apartment. It was thankfully a significant improvement to the last one. After looking over the kitchen and the living room, he went to your bedroom, watching you sleep soundly and peacefully. Part of him wanted to sink his hands around your neck, make you experience every bit of discomfort that you had made him feel. He slowly sat down on the mattress, his gloved hand gently caressing your cheek. You cared about him, but how much of that was the same sort of empathy and respect you'd show to everyone else? How much of it was just for him? He needed all of it, your heart, your mind, your soul. He'd been so used to taking everything he ever wanted, there'd never been anything worth his patience. . .but you? Watching you emerge from the shadow you used to be gave him a deep satisfaction that nothing else came close to. Destroying you would be too easy, you were already so broken, even now. Making you whole again? Now that was a challenge he'd accept, a challenge that he was going to excel at. No one else was going to hurt you again. He recognised the value of your devotion, craved it like nothing else. His fingers traced over your lips as he imagined the moment you were going to kiss him of your own accord. What a sweet, precious moment that was going to be, he would wait for it. He was going to wait for you. And when you were his, he was never going to let you go.

[purplebass]

How Does it Feel

Since everyone talked about Jesse meeting his uncles Gabriel and Gideon (and his aunts too), I’ve decided to write a fic about this. 

Rating: T Words: 1779

The day Jesse Blackthorn returned to London, he never thought he would get this much attention. Well, he did expect people to be shocked. He was alive, after everyone had known he had been dead for years. But he never expected the affection, considering how Will and James Herondale had glared at him during most of their time in Cornwall, while they tried to convince Lucie that the best thing to do was going back. 

“Why are you stubborn, Lucie? You’ve never been stubborn,” Will told her. “You, please, say something,” he told Jesse, who hadn’t interfered, thinking that it was better if he didn’t voice his thoughts if no one asked him.

“Lucie,” he said gently. “Your father is right. We should go back to London. We can’t stay here forever.”

She glanced at him, and he could read the panic in her eyes. “If we return…” She left the phrase hanging, but he knew what she was thinking. Once it was known to everyone what they did, there would be consequences. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he tried to comfort her. “We are going to be okay.” He longed to touch her cheek, but he decided that it was too much to do in front of her family, considering that they might believe it was his fault that she was far from home. He was sure that they didn’t hate him. That it was just a father and a brother who were bothered from their daughter and sister running away with a guy, unmarried. 

She nodded at him, and then looked at her father. “Then I guess we should leave.”

Jesse remembered the crestfallen expression on Will’s face as Lucie left them and got ready to go. He turned to him and managed a smile, and that was when he realized that he had probably gained his trust. 

There were a few people waiting outside of the London Institute, the evening they were finally back. He knew who they were because he had seen them, but they never did. He recognized Lucie’s mother Tessa, speaking to Cecily Lightwood. His aunt. Her husband, Gabriel, was folding and unfolding his hands in front of him expectantly, while his brother Gideon was telling something to him. He turned his head towards the carriage when he heard the noise of the horses coming closer to the entrance. His wife Sophie also glanced towards them. James had probably told them they were on their way, since he had taken off with one of the horses once they arrived in London.

“They’re all here,” Lucie commented, and touched Jesse’s hand. Her father had fallen asleep during the ride home, that was why she did it. “Is that alright?”

“We can’t control people, Lucie,” he grinned. “And why wouldn’t it be alright? Do you not want to see your uncles and aunts?”

“Of course, I do. I’ve missed them,” she said. “I meant you.”

“What about me?”

“I’m sure they’re also here for you. And you,” she paused. “Might want to be alone.”

He still forgot how it felt to be alive, and to be seen. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see them now. He had been curious about them for years, and only dared to watch them from afar while in his ghost form. He had only met his uncle Gideon once, years ago. He felt a little overwhelmed, but he didn’t say anything. He offered her another smile, then squeezed her hand. Her father cleared his voice and frowned, but Lucie rolled her eyes at him. 

“I hope Bridget is already preparing something because I’m starving,” Will said, as the carriage stopped in front of the Institute, and he got off.

He left his side of the carriage open for them, and Jesse took a breath before he also exited the vehicle. He extended his hand to Lucie, whose eyes widened because she didn’t expect it. They had never ridden in a carriage before, in the real sense. He had kept her company in there several times, while he was a ghost. But he had always vanished before she could get off. And he hadn’t been solid - he couldn’t have possibly offered his hand. He realized his hand was sweaty, but Lucie was wearing gloves. She wouldn’t notice. 

“We thought you wouldn’t arrive anymore,” Cecily said. “James was here long ago. We were freezing.”

“Nobody asked you to wait outside, Cecy,” Will replied. He was half hugging his wife when Jesse and Lucie turned towards the group of people waiting for them. They caught them kissing, but the others didn’t seem to mind. 

“We’ve been,” Gabriel then said, calmly, as if he couldn’t find the words. “Waiting. Waiting for you. Both of you.” He was watching them intently, especially Jesse. He had to look away, his cheeks were surely red by now. “We missed you.”

“Thanks, uncle. I also missed you all,” Lucie said giddily. “May I introduce you to Jesse?”

There was an awkward silence at first. For some reason, no one talked. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Jesse said, his voice didn’t waver like he expected. “Mrs. Herondale, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, and Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood.”

“We’re very pleased to meet you as well, my dear boy,” Sophie said, smiling. 

“Yes, we’ve wanted to meet you for a long time,” Gideon echoed. 

Lucie squeezed his arm to encourage him. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” uncle Gabriel said. He didn’t give him time to answer, because he enveloped his nephew in a hug. 

Jesse didn’t know how to react to that. He didn’t expect all of this excitement, this warm welcome. So he just patted his uncle’s back until he was ready to let him go. Once they separated, Gabriel seemed quite moved. The thought that someone other than Lucie and Grace cared about him to the point of tearing up, made him want to cry as well. He felt tired. He grinned, trying to hold back the tears. 

“Why don’t we all get inside? They’ve travelled a long way, they should rest,” Gideon suggested, and the others nodded in agreement. 

The group split once they got inside. Tessa greeted them and went her own way with her husband, letting everyone know that they would not join them for dinner, but they would surely see each other later. Jesse wondered what dinner, since it was likely after nine, but he had to admit he was hungry. He’d missed being hungry. 

“Bridget has prepared dinner for you,” Cecily said, once they gathered in the drawing room. “She also prepared something for James, but he fled on his horse after he told us you were coming.”

“Do you like chicken soup, Jesse? That’s what she said she’d made,” Gideon added. “But with that woman, you never know,” he shrugged.

“I like everything,” he answered. “Anything is fine.”

“Would you like to stay with us?” Gabriel inquired, making everyone turn in his direction. Cecily seemed to glare at him, murmuring that he had just returned from a long trip and to give him a break. 

“Wow, Gabriel. You didn’t even let him rest. You don’t have to respond now, Jesse. And, by the way, that offer also stands on my part,” Gideon said.

“Gideon!” Gabriel huffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Please, do not argue over me, Mr. Lightwood. I do not wish to be the cause of your discussion,” Jesse replied solemnly, silencing everyone.

“Don’t worry, no one is arguing in this room,” Sophie said. “They always bicker like that.”

“Yes, we do,” Gabriel said, crossing his arms on his chest. “And we’re also both very serious about this offer. Promise you’ll think about it? Do not feel pressured.”

“Yes, Jesse. Take your time choosing between me and uncle Gabriel. Or choose no one, for that matter. Just know that we are here for you.”

“Thank you,” he simply answered, not being able to say much more. He knew that they both meant it, and he was grateful. He couldn’t have put into words if he tried to. But it was too much for a day. Jesse managed the unpteenth smile of the night. He never thought he would smile so much in one day, that he’d feel his jaw hurt. Was this what it felt like to be loved by your family?

“I’m so tired, I guess I’m going to bed,” Lucie said, standing up from the spot next to his. She probably understood that he was done for the night, and wanted to be alone.

Everyone stood up, and said goodbye. Jesse greeted everyone with formality. His uncles and aunts didn’t tell him to call them by their names. They probably comprehended that he needed time, that this was too sudden, and they had never seen each other. They were strangers in his eyes, even if he didn’t seem to be a stranger to them. 

Uncle Gabriel told them he would tell Will or Tessa that they were going, and that they were alone in the drawing room. Jesse didn’t think his uncle knew about their relationship, but perhaps he suspected there was something. He was still a stranger in there, a stranger in the same room as an unmarried woman. 

“It was easier, when I could fade. Whenever I didn’t want to talk anymore,” Jesse said, when everyone left. “I could just disappear.”

Lucie nodded, sitting down on the sofa again. He followed her. “Do you miss it?”

“Being a ghost? No, Lucie, no,” he replied with confidence, caressing her cheek. “But I have to admit, all of this,” he shook his head. “Thank you for making them go.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know they would come, or else I would have told them to go. I’m sorry, Jesse.”

“It’s not your fault. Not theirs, either. I just - feel. I felt their interest, their fondness of me. And it,” he sighed. “And I don’t know if I deserve it. It is odd. Being loved by someone. Receiving affection from people who share my blood, even if we never met before.”

“Everyone deserves love,” she said. 

At that, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came freely. They marred his face with water and salt, something he’d never thought he’d feel again on his skin. Lucie opened her arms, letting his head settle on her shoulder. His hand grabbed one of hers, while her other hand brushed the side of his arm to soothe him. She let him weep in silence until he had enough. And in that moment, Jesse felt very lucky to be so loved and understood.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed, send me a PM): @princesslucinda @kit-12 @immortal-enemies @lucian-evander @esa-emery @danieldyers @blackthorn-trash @rinadragomir @fortunesandfables @itsdaughterofthemoon @silvenys@thomastair3 @livvyheronstairs @ holding-infinity-and-a-book @lovelaces @axoloteca @autumnangel20 @cordelia-cardale

[yoonjinkooked]

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien | Jimin

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka, who was also my #1 helper and support through the torturous 10 month journey that this story was. 

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut, romcom

Warnings: explicit sex, slight exhibitionism (fingering, out in the open but not in public, boat sex, oral (f and m receiving) brief but gory painting description, a lot of cursing, Jimin will end you Word Count: 19k+  Summary: You keep meeting a handsome stranger in Paris. One coincidence after another leads to the most amazing trip of your life A/N: This shit took 10 months to write. Thank @flajka, Kehlani and Jimin’s sexy Paris photos.  Spotify playlists for this fic are: 1 / 2 / 3  - I had to separate them because you can’t put Edith Piaf on the same playlist as Ace Of Base.  Hope you enjoy! 

Looking up from the screen of your phone, you blink once, twice, three times – you are not where you are supposed to be and Google maps are the stupidest invention ever.

It took you two hours to find your Airbnb apartment yesterday, all because Google maps were not quite user friendly. Not to mention that your sense of direction was utterly pathetic.

Yet despite all of that, you were absolutely positive that finding ‘Shakespeare and company’ would be an easy task – after all, you were so close to it, having just spent 10 minutes mourning the fact that the Notre-Dame was still very much unapproachable. From there to the bookstore, the route should have been easy to follow but alas, it was not. Somehow, you have managed to confuse yourself even further.

Looking around in place, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the green doors and a sign that tells you that perhaps your sense of direction isn’t as bad as you think it is – ‘Shakespeare and Company’.

There it is, the bookstore with such rich history, one of your must-see places in Paris, something that the ‘Midnight in Paris’ lover in you had to tick off the list – there it is, right before you and very much closed. You check the time, finding that it is almost nine – a quick Google search, which is something you should have done before leaving your apartment – tells you that it opens up at half past nine.

You don’t have time, you absolutely don’t have time to sit around and wait for it to open. It’s going to take you some time to reach the 7th Arrondissement and once you do get there, two museums await. Wasting time, waiting for a bookstore to open is not a luxury you can afford right now.

Perhaps you will have time before you leave. After all, you still have a week to spend in the city of light and although your plans are pretty strict and well-organized, you are aware that some changes are bound to happen. But you will leave that for the last day – right now, you only have a few minutes of your life to offer to a closed bookstore.

As you take photos of the famed location, you recall the comments your mother made before you left, about how a young woman shouldn’t travel alone in a foreign country. She had a point – one shouldn’t travel alone if they want to have at least one photo of themselves on the memory card. It sucks a bit but you don’t let it dampen your mood – you don’t need photos to preserve the memories. A selfie stick was always an option but it was also beneath you – something you’ve decided when they first appeared.

“Is it closed?” a voice asks from behind you, making you jump a bit, as you weren’t aware that you had company. The man looking at you seems to be about your age and a tourist, if the camera around his neck is anything to go by. The brief once-over you give him lets you know he is also unnaturally attractive.

“Yeah,” you tell him, offering him a compassionate smile when you see his expression sour. “It should open soon though – about half an hour, if Google is correct.”

“Thanks for the info,” he smiles, before he lifts up his camera and starts taking photos. You realize that the chit-chat is over, so you resume taking photos as well. Just a few seconds later, his presence gave you an idea.

“Hey, would you mind taking a photo of me?” you ask sheepishly, smiling when he nods his head at once. “I’m travelling alone and I just want at least one photo of me in the folder, you know?”

“I can relate,” he chuckles as he takes the camera from you. “How do you want to take it? Casually touristy, right in front of it or artsy, with you looking up at the sign in awe?”

“Artsy,” he laughs at your immediate response, to which you simply shrug. “When will I be artsy if not in Paris?”

“Touché,” he agrees, before directing you so that he can take a decent shot. “Turn a bit to the left.”

A few seconds later, it’s his turn. After settling your own camera around your neck, you take his and take a few photos of him as he stands in the same spot you did, looking up at the sign in fake awe. This gives you a chance to properly look at him for the first time. He is indeed handsome, insanely so. Dark brown hair swept away from his face, insanely clear skin and a jaw that could cut right through glass. Looking right at him is almost blinding and you rush to take the photos.

“All done,” you smile as you return the camera to him. “I think you have a few decent shots there.”

“Thanks,” he smiles as you adjust your backpack, ready to take your leave – Shakespeare will have to enjoy your company some other day. “Enjoy the rest of Paris.”

“Yeah, you too,” you smile back at the man, mumbling under your breath as you leave because it serves you right to meet the most handsome man ever half-way across the world.

By the time you finally escape the Parisian metro, you are dead tired. Musée Rodin was just as beautiful as ‘Midnight in Paris’ made it seem to be. You’ve spent the good part of the morning roaming it’s gardens, before finally moving onto Les Invalides, which housed the tomb of the oh so great Napoleon Bonaparte. That was arguably less exciting than Musée Rodin, with you actually giving up on it completely as soon as you saw his tomb. The comments you thought of while admiring the size of the tomb and him obviously carrying his complexes into afterlife were left to you alone, making you chuckle at random times and earning a few curious looks from your fellow tourists.

Your tourist escapades ended at Champ de Mars, with an impromptu picnic which included sitting on your jacket and eating a marvelous French feast made up from pre-packaged Starbucks caramel macchiato and salt&vinegar chips – mmm, so French it hurts. Originally, you wanted to wait for the infamous light show to start but after just an hour, you have already given up and made your leave, hoping not to get lost in the metro yet again.

Luckily, you didn’t. You were so tired by the time you got to the place you rented in the outskirts of Paris that you barely had the energy to shower. And tomorrow, with Versailles being your top priority, your day was bound to be even more tiring.

You are fuming, absolutely fuming, wanting nothing more than to curse out loud and stomp on the ground. You have been tricked and that was just the drop that made the glass overflow.

You woke up with a massive headache and after forcing yourself to eat a bit, you could finally drink medication. By the time you were ready to leave your rental apartment, the timetable you made for today was already long forgotten – you’re at least an hour late.

But that isn’t a problem. It’s not even the ever confusing metro, because somehow, with a lot of help from locals, you’ve managed to figure out where you should wait for the right ride to Versailles. All of it was a bit stress inducing but definitely not a problem. The real problem occurred when you were in front of the magnificent golden gates, which you couldn’t even see because of the massive line.

Clutching your fast pass ticket, you approach a smaller line leading to the entrance, hoping and praying that you weren’t wasting your time waiting there instead of in the massive crowd, hoping that your fast pass can actually let you pass, fast.

You were mistaken. Apparently, every single human being waiting in the long ass line also had the fast pass ticket. How long do people without a fast pass have to wait is a question you don’t even want to know the answer to. With a few huffs and puffs, you took your place in line, annoyed at anything and everything, starting from the stupid agency who sold you this worthless ticket, right down to your best friend who suggested taking this trip together, only to bail on you to let her boyfriend take her to Ibiza.

As if all of that was not enough to ruin your mood, rain had started to fall, damping your clothes enough so that they match your mood.  At least you were ready for it, having read up about the unpredictable early summer rains of Paris and making sure to never leave the apartment without your hideously yellow umbrella.

An hour and a half later, you finally put the damn fast pass into use and enter the extravagant home of some Louis – you’re not ashamed to admit to not know which one. After all, you were about to learn.

The inside of the magnificent palace left you with mixed emotions, in all honesty. On one hand, it truly is as grand and striking as you had always imagined it to be. On the other hand, the crowd was killing you. Teens running around and touching things they shouldn’t be touching, people looking at everything through the screen of their phones and cameras instead of actually looking… It all left you feeling a bit on edge and wishing you had a chance to attend a private tour or something. Knowing that you will probably experience the same thing later today in the Louvre wasn’t helping either.

Every time you would pass a window, you found yourself wanting to be outside and after an hour of torture and not being able to enjoy anything, you have finally given up – fuck the rain, fuck it all – most people are still inside to avoid the rain after all and you do have your trusted umbrella with you.

Stepping into the gardens of Versailles was the best decision you could have made and you regretted not making it sooner. There were very few people outside and even the light drizzle could not ruin the experience of such a beautiful place. It’s fascinating, really, to look from the balcony above and to not see the end to all the gardens, green labyrinths, with many fountains and statues placed at nearly every corner.

It was almost impossible for you to decide where to start, so you just decided to roam freely, with no end goal in mind. You don’t even bother with your camera much, once you reach the seemingly endless green maze. The view from higher ground is magnificent but as you walk around, all you see is green hedges, incredibly tall green hedges – a very literal maze of plants. The smell is comforting – a mixture of the familiar smell of rain and of plants – more specifically, grass.

You wander around, enjoying the peace and quiet. There are more people in the maze but they are far from you and compared to the crowd you were in just minutes ago, they are ignorable, unless they are heading directly in your direction.

You recognize him instantly – other than a few locals you’ve asked for directions, he is the only person you exchanged more than one sentence with – it’s the guy from ‘Shakespeare and Company’, walking towards you. Your fear of awkwardness makes you lower the umbrella so that you can pretend that you simply didn’t see him. You only lift the umbrella up when you see his feet walk by you.

It would be weird and awkward. What do you say to someone you recognize but don’t really know? Hey? What if he doesn’t remember you and you embarrass yourself for no good reason? No, this was completely ignorable, luckily for you.

You are not fast enough the second time. The next crossroad in the maze leaves you making eye contact with him, as he is standing parallel to you, with a solid distance in-between. Solid enough for you to still pretend you do not recognized him. The eye contact made you feel a bit uneasy because what if he remembers you too? The awkwardness you’ve wanted to avoid might have just doubled.

So you walk on, taking a left turn as soon as you find one, finding the first ‘hidden room’ of the maze and a breathtaking, extravagant fountain that all but begs for you to take photos of it. Consciously steering away from the direction he seemed to have been taking, you walk along.

Left, straight, left again, straight, a bit to the right – you even manage to lose track of your surroundings, hoping that you are heading towards the gigantic fountain you’ve seen from the upper balcony.

Yet somehow, you still manage to see him again and much to your dismay, make direct eye contact. He is standing parallel from you and before you turned around and started walking, you could see what looked like mild confusion on his face.

Crap. He must have recognized you to a certain extent and now you’re making it painfully obvious that you are running away from him. For no good reason, too. You could have simply said “Oh hey, I remember you from yesterday, enjoy Versailles” or something along that line and made your exit but no, god no, you just had to make a fool of yourself.

You’ve never taken pride in your title of awkward social potato and this little mishap has to rank pretty high on your list of embarrassing moments. Sure, weird eye contact isn’t that big of a deal but the fact that it could have been easily avoid it and wasn’t only makes it 10 times worse.

Surprisingly enough, as soon as you realize that you’re being ridiculous, you have a chance for a do-over.

By the time you’ve reached the grand fountain, with a very confusing yet majestic statue of horses in the middle of it, you see him again, standing right on the edge of it, luckily not looking your way. Once again you are reminded of just how good looking he is and it’s not helping you with what you are about to do, since insanely attractive men tend to make you nervous and tongue tied.

“Well, at least the Versailles was open,” you try to sound as casual as possible as you stand a few feet away from him, watching as confusion disappears from his face as he puts two and two together.

“I thought I recognized you,” he laughs and you realize that his laughter is as melodic as his voice. Damn him. “They opened yesterday minutes after you left,” he tells you and to that you shrug.

“Nine days in Paris aren’t enough – I had museums to see,” you tell him, watching as he nods in understanding, still smiling at you. “I hope you enjoyed it, though.”

“I did,” he tells you. “Since you’re here, would you mind taking a photo of me?” he sounds as sheepish as you did yesterday. “You’re the only stranger I’d trust with my camera,” he adds. He makes a simple sentence like that hit you like a full force flirt and by the time you actually take the camera from his hands, you are positive you are blushing.

You take a few photos of him, his insanely good profile in particular, hoping that you are not drooling all over yourself. “Return the favor?” you ask, lifting your own camera, to which he laughs and extends his hand to you.

Posing is always awkward, period. Posing to a hot stranger is borderline traumatic. You do it anyways, looking away from the camera because you’ve had enough “eye contact” with him to last you a lifetime. Awkwardly standing in front of him, you wait as he checks the photos before smiling up at you and offering the camera back to you. “Perfect.”

“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of Versailles,” you casually announce your departure, feeling relieved and regretful at the same time as you walk away from him, backwards. In all honesty, the kind smile on your face made you want to stick around for a while longer.

“Thanks, you too.”

You turn around and walk away, taking a deep breath to relax yourself. The Louvre awaits – hot strangers will have their turn some other time.  

Four days in Paris were enough for you to start your own list of unpopular, maybe even popular, opinions about the city. You were always interested in the city but never obsessed with it, like many are, so you’d say that your opinions are unbiased, at least to a certain extent.

For example, Parisians are nice and they actually do make an effort to speak English if you ask them something. Of course, not everyone has the same experience but the urban myth of them being condescending, rude and downright ignoring people who speak English was proven to be false.

Yes, the city is gorgeous but it has so much to offer beside a fairly tall tower.

And last, but certainly not least – the Louvre is overrated.

After waiting in rain, again (not the museum’s fault, obviously), you finally got inside, only to proceed and get lost four times. Actual four times, you had no idea where you were and where you were supposed to go next. You were nearly trampled in front of the Mona Lisa, all while watching in shock as the people were pushing each other to try and take a selfie with the iconic painting behind them. That was the first instance when you thought how much you hate people. The next one was when you saw a grown adult, a man in his 30s, grabbing an antique Greek statue by the balls.

It was at that point that the museum walking became torture to you. Paired with its confusing layout and the employees who either truly had no idea how to help you or simply didn’t want to bother with helping a pesky tourist, you ended up wandering aimlessly, looking at everything and nothing at all, wondering how much it would cost to get an exclusive, chaperoned, after-hours tour of the Louvre. Probably too much for someone who’s keeping cheap ramen in their rented apartment.

Muse d’Orsay, your present location, is something else entirely. It is painfully obvious that at least a third of the yesterday’s crowd only went to the Luvre because someone told them they should, you overheard a few say as much, and compared to that, the visitors of Muse d’Orsay came here on their own accord. It is decently full, but not crowded. The only place where you actually had to wait in line was in front of Van Gogh’s artwork, which was to be expected.

The entire place is casual, yet sophisticated, far less confusing compared to the gigantic mess that is The Louvre. You can take your time and go wherever, without having to consult a map and pray that you’re not confusing yourself even further. You can also sit and relax for a little while, which is something your tired feet are extremely grateful for but in a very unusual way, the people around you are making you feel uncomfortable. Most of them are casually sitting and sketching the gigantic clock, the centerpiece of Muse d’Orsay and while observing that is beautiful, it also remindes you that you are, to put it nicely, talentless in the same field.

So you keep on roaming, until you find your place on a bench set before an enormous painting. Definitely three times, if not four, your height, The Women of Gaul has your full attention. The piece is as eerie and hauntingly beautiful as it is confusing – like many times over the last couple of days, you’re not sure where to look first. What catches your attention, bizarrely, is the center character – a woman, standing tall and proud with an angry look on her face and holding a dead baby by the arm.

It appears as if she has killed the baby on her own accord – she’d rather lose everything she has than surrender. Admirable and scary at the same time. With all due respect to the masterpiece, she looks ready to bitchslap some soldiers.

“We meet again, stranger,” you only realize someone is talking to you when they sit a few feet away from you and you nearly choke on dry air when you realize it’s him – the Shakespeare guy, the Versailles guy, your unofficial photographer, in all of his ripped jeans glory.

“Wow,” you laugh. How big is Paris? How many people live here, how many tourists roam the streets every day? And yet three days in a row, you see him. “We keep bumping into each other.”

“Looks like our travel itineraries keep overlapping,” he chuckles. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he adds, before the silence turns awkward. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he offers you his hand, which you accept instantly.

“Y/N,” you shake his hand. “So, how’s Paris working out for you?”

“I love it,” he admits, looking away from you to focus on the much less friendlier woman in the painting in front of you. “I like it more than I thought I would, in all honesty.”

“Same here,” you admit, finding it quite easy to talk to him, given that you are usually definitely more apprehensive when it comes to people you don’t know. But hey, you know his name now – that counts, right? “From word of mouth alone, I thought it was a bit overrated but it has its charms. Plenty of them, actually.”

“Museums or city streets?” he asks, turning to look at you again. He has striking, dark eyes that have no trouble looking directly at yours – you, on the other hand, swallow a lump. “Which do you enjoy more?”

“A bit of both, depends on the day,” you sound way more casual than you feel. “You?”

“City streets,” he answers, focusing on the painting again. “Art is amazing but art is art, wherever you are. While cities… they’re all different. Each city has its own thing and as much as I enjoy looking at artwork, I’d rather pick… exploring the city, breathing it in. Polluted air and all.”

“Makes sense,” you agree, knowing just how right he is. A museum is a museum, whether it’s in Paris or the tiniest of towns. It’s fascinating but it’s still a building with four walls and a roof – outside, the streets, the people, the charm distinct to each city – that’s where all the fun is at.

“Have you seen the impressionism area?” he asks.

“Not yet, why?”

“Me neither,” he laughs, confusing you a bit. “Travelling alone is fun but at times it can get painfully dull. I thought maybe you’d want to look around the museum a bit more and then we can go somewhere?”

Oh. Okay. He wants your company. Surprising, yet flattering.

“I’d love to,” you find yourself answering, ignoring all the possible red flags you probably should have not ignored – after all, this is fairly similar to the plot of Taken, and you don’t have a Liam Neeson waiting to rescue you. Mr. Ripped Jeans Jimin has a point – travelling alone can be very dull. With how the two of you have been running into each other for days now, it seems like the universe wants you to have someone to talk to for a while. “Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”

“Montmartre?” he suggests after considering your question for a few seconds. “The stairs in front of Sacré-Cœur are always a good idea?”

He isn’t wrong - Sacré-Cœur is very much on your bucket list – scheduled for tomorrow, right on time to see the sunset. But at the same time, you have no specific plans for this afternoon and Jimin does seem like he could be good company.

Why not?

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, feeling a metaphorical punch to your gut when his face lights up once you agree with his idea. “Let’s see those impressionists first, shall we?”

The language barrier is quite something. Despite knowing a few basic French words and phrases, your pronunciation is so damn tragic, no transaction was possible without the use of English and sometimes, like right now, lots of waving and pointing.

Jimin was looking at you in amusement while you desperately tried to explain that you need one chocolate croissant. By the point the lady behind the counter understood what you wanted, you were more than happy to leave with whatever the hell she’d give you, even if it’s not your precious croissant.

“Do you want something? Are you hungry?” you ask, wanting to treat him to some food since he insisted on paying for the bottle of wine that is currently in his backpack.

He nods, proceeding to speak to state his order in what sounds like fluent French. “I got some for you too,” he tells you as he elegantly stands in front of you, taking out his wallet and smiling as he sees that you are about to protest. “No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m paying – I ordered more. Besides, if you are buying the chocolate croissant, you obviously have no idea what you’re doing.”

A comment like that could have sounded extremely condescending coming from anyone else, but from Jimin, with his kind smile? No way. “You did not just diss a chocolate croissant!”

“Oh, yes I did,” he chuckles as he rushes to offer money before you can – defeated, but a little glad, you return your wallet into the bag, thinking how maybe you will treat yourself to more than instant ramen for your lunch tomorrow. “I love chocolate as much as the next guy but the raisin one? Hell, even the plain one – much better,” he tells as he takes the bag and exits the bakery, leaving you to follow him.

“I’m all for experimenting but come on – it’s a chocolate croissant. It can’t be bad.”

“I’ve never said it was bad,” he laughs at you as you finally catch up with him and the two of you walk side by side. “I’ve just said others were better, which you will confirm once you try them. Now – do we walk or do we waste money on the lift?”

How can a question so simple be so complicated? Your feet hurt, you’ve walked more since you landed in Paris than you have the whole last month – of course you want to take the lift and avoid unnecessary stairs. On the other hand, stairs pretty much guarantee that you will have more time to spend with Jimin and so far, he’s been a decent companion.

“How about… we take the lift to go up and we walk on our way down?” you suggest.

“Deal.”

He didn’t have a chance to see Montmarte either, he tells you on your way up. Much like you, he had a schedule and he kept to it. Until today, when he spontaneously dropped his plans and invited you to spend the rest of the day with him. You did not have solid plans to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a change, save from the fact that you were in good company.

And good company he was – surprisingly, there weren’t many moments of awkward silence as the two of you tried to find a place that fits you both – that was a challenge, seeing as many people have gathered to enjoy the view, a nice drink and an impromptu performance by buskers. In the corner of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowd, the two of you sit and it’s a matter of seconds before Jimin is opening the bottle of wine with a swiss knife he pulled out of his bag – a bag that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent – not that you were paying any attention to it.

“So…” he starts, pausing to smile at you as he gives you your cup, before moving on to fill his own. “Tell me something about yourself. I only know your name and that we live in the same city.”

“And yet somehow we’ve met on a different continent,” you add, smiling when he ‘clinks’ his plastic cup against yours. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything,” he shrugs, nodding in approval at the taste of the wine. “Why Paris? Why alone? What’s your favorite color? An actor you hate but can’t explain why? Tell me anything.”

“Why Paris? Why not Paris? There are so many places I want to see, cities I want to explore and it all had to start somewhere. My friend had wanted to see Paris while I was pretty much up for anything. Of course, she then decided that Ibiza with her boytoy sounds like a better idea than Paris with her friend,” you add, sounding just a little bitter. It’s not the nicest thing she has done but you’ll get over it.

“And your boyfriend was not interested in the beauty of France?”

Now you are confused. His raised eyebrow and tiny, barely there smile, tell you that he is absolutely asking about your boyfriend for no other reason but to confirm whether or not you have one. However, this wouldn’t be the first time for you to completely misread signs and confuse flirting with casual conversation. You decide to play it safe and not waste time on reading between the lines.

“Don’t have one,” you shrug, looking away from him and focusing on the buskers. “It does get quite boring after a while. It would be nice to have a travel partner.”

“And if you don’t, you can always ask a random, kind stranger to take your photos for you?” you join in on his laugh, glad that you spoke up that day in front of ‘Shakespeare and Company’. If you hadn’t, chances are you wouldn’t have a conversation in Versailles, which then would not continue today.

If he can do it, so can you – the can of worms is wide open. “And what does your girlfriend say about you traveling without her?” you asks, before backtracking quickly. “Or boyfriend. Or one of each, really,” you add, making him laugh.

God, there really is no smooth way to ask about the relationship status of someone you barely know, someone you’re not even completely sure you like. If two are at a club, where the music is loud and they can’t even keep a conversation, ‘are you single’ is completely acceptable. And that setting is perfect for a rejection – if they say no, you just dance away to your drink or to the next person.

This? It’s a warm day in Paris and you are surrounded by people of all ages, families even. You have been talking about the city, travelling, art and now what, ‘are you single’ or ‘would you be interested in sleeping with me’ is the next topic of conversation? No, it doesn’t work that way. Especially when you’re not even sure what you want, much less what he wants.

“Well, I don’t have either of the two so I can’t really answer that,” is that a hint of a smirk you see on his face? Okay, you may not be a champion at flirting but it looks like things are heading that way.

“Interesting,” you mumble, earning an eyebrow raise from him. Shit. You panic and focus on the plastic cup full of wine, hoping that if you drink enough of it fast, the blush that is taking over your face can be attributed to the alcohol. It doesn’t help – you move the cup away and meet his eyes, only to find him obviously waiting for you to explain your comment.

“Are you going to explain why that’s interesting on your own or should I ask about it and force you to elaborate?” he asks and you immediately turn to your cup, making him laugh, loudly, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole body move.

“I’m awkward, please don’t make it any worse,” you tell him, a part of you hoping he won’t hear you.

“As you wish,” he is still laughing and you still want to die of embarrassment. That being said, him teasing you is a good sign, you think. Now, you’re fairly certain that you absolutely are in the flirting territory and while that doesn’t make things easier for you one bit, at least now you know you perhaps won’t make a fool of yourself if you are more straightforward. Or maybe you will. Who knows?! “Y/N, do you believe in destiny?” he asks and while you’re glad the topic is changed… really?

“That’s such a broad question,” you chuckle, pausing to think about it for a second. “I suppose I do, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. What kind of destiny?”

“Okay… first, do you believe that it’s all planned out? Like, your entire life?” he asks.

“Hardly,” you answer immediately, having thought about that already, many times in your life. “I suppose that to a certain extent, it is destiny. Like… the situations that you will be put in. But your reactions to said situations are your own. Destiny can’t control how you, or the people in your life, react to something. So I guess… no?” you try to sum it up, laughing at your own rant.

“Makes sense,” he agrees as he leans back, now almost lying down on the staircase, propped on his elbow as he looks away from you and towards the magnificent view of Paris. You realize once again that he looks like a full course meal, skinny jeans and all, and you reach for your plastic cup for solace, again. “Some things are set in stone… like where you’re born, who your parents are, maybe even who you’re going to be in life. But not the tiny details… like what kind of friend you are, if you can cook or not, who will be your first kiss and so on… Is that what you meant?” he asks, suddenly turning his eyes on you and faced with them, you nearly choke on the drink you’ve been hiding behind.

Damn him and his eyes. And his smirk. And yes, his ripped skinny jeans too.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And what about us?” he asks, smirking your way again. “We’ve been running into each other all over Paris… that’s why I thought that there has to be a reason behind it… don’t you agree?”

“Could be,” you agree, knowing that no matter how skeptical you might be about the concept of destiny, even you have to admit that the amount of times the two of you have crossed paths this week is something unusual. “You think it was destined for two of us to meet and hang out on these stairs?”

“Why not?” he laughs, sensing the trace of skepticism behind your words, even though you mostly agreed with him. “I can accept that not every cute girl I meet is destiny playing its tune but we couldn’t have avoided each other even if we tried, could we?”

You’re cute. Okay. You can live with that. You can definitely live with that.

“What else does destiny want us to do?”

You’ll admit it, you feel bolder now, knowing how shamelessly he had admitted that he obviously thinks you’re cute. Sure, you’re not nearly as bold as you wish you were but… step by step?

“Well, there’s this party down at the 8th Arrondissement that I thought of going to. Nothing huge, just a regular club. We don’t have to, if you don’t feel like partying. If you do, we can sit here for a while longer and then take a cab down there or something?” he suggests.

First he thinks you’re cute. Then he wants you to go clubbing. Sure, he isn’t hitting on you per se, but he obviously wants to spend more time with you and knowing that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Maybe it’s the butterflies that you’re feeling now, after ages of them being MIA, maybe it’s the way Jimin looks at you, with the tiniest of smirks gracing his face, or maybe it’s just Jimin himself – you’re not sure and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, he wants to spend more time with you and despite you not really giving a shit about destiny, you do want to spend more time with him too.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

And then he goes and bites his lip, mid-smile.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell you’ll survive clubbing with him. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try.

It didn’t take you long to realize that Jimin is a piece of work, in the best ways.

He is confident when approaching strangers, whether it was you, earlier today, or a random person to ask if the two of you could join their table. He can handle his drink and he does, in fact, drink quite a bit. His behavior doesn’t change – he’s still smiley, friendly, his words never slurring, his walk as perfect and sexy as it was when he was 100% sober – the only real change in his appearance is that three tequila shots in, he’s red in the face.

You? You’ve stopped drinking one shot ago, not wanting to push yourself into the state of ‘please fuck me in the alley behind this park, Mr. Stranger’ because you do tend to turn clingy after drinking a bit too much. No, this time around, you’ve kept yourself tipsy enough to throw away some inhibitions but sober enough to not jump on the guy in the middle of a crowded club.

And lord almighty, it is crowded.

You would have never thought that Parisians and a couple of tourists would be this into 90s trash music but here you are, dancing the night away with a hot as hell stranger to the tune of ‘Be My Lover’. You’ve been dancing nonstop for what feels like hours, the only break happening when he goes to the bar to get the two of you drinks and you take that chance to lean against the wall to catch your breath.

You want to chastise yourself for trusting a stranger with your drink but after debating it while you were still sober, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re going to trust said stranger. 

Taking a deep breath, you rummage through your bag, trying to find something to cool yourself down with, settling for a brochure you had picked up in Musée d'Orsay earlier today. You fan yourself, staying comfortably away from the crowd that’s dancing like their life depends on it.

It’s hot, it’s crowded, you’re tipsy and if you’re being completely honest, you’re turned on. Yes, in a tiny, dark, hole of a club, with a 90s eurodance song in Spanish blasting through the speakers, you can still manage to feel that way and it’s solely because of him.

For the past two hours, he has been flirting with you in ways that make you wonder if he’s actually flirting of he’s a hallucination of your deranged mind.

He hasn’t stopped touching you all night, but he does so in ways that are not… obvious. He holds your hand while you are walking through the crowd. He puts his hands on your waist while you’re dancing, but they’re positioned in a way that makes you think he just enjoys having a dance partner, not that he wants to fuck your brains out. He is close, but not close enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wants to kiss you. It’s driving you insane and you’re feeling hot – literally and metaphorically.

The song changed to something a bit more bearable for listening, but still trashy enough, when you finally felt your body relaxing and calming down after the onslaught of senses it has been through in the last two hours. However, the moment you think you’ll manage to cool your head, you see him.

It’s not that he is hot. Sure, he is hot as hell and nice on the eyes, which is something you see others noticing, as they turn their heads while he walks past them, drinks in hand. It’s not that he is so damn charming, although that plays a part too. What’s really getting to you is simply the way he looks at you.

Even now, in the crowd, as he makes his way to your little makeshift hideaway, his eyes are directly on you. He’s not even paying attention on if he’s spilling your drinks or not – nope, he is looking right at you. And despite the feeling of panic that causes, you can’t look away. You can’t hide from it, you can’t fight it – you just have to keep eye contact with him, even though you feel like weak prey.

You’d lie if you say that there weren’t moments when his eyes would look… elsewhere. Your lips, your neck or at the tiny trace of cleavage your shirt lets him see (is that one a blessing or a curse?)…  That you could deal with, as much as you were figuratively on fire. But a man with confidence to look you directly in the eyes, all the time? Yeah, you’ve kind of wanted die.

Especially now, with him sliding through the cracks between people, smiling your way, eyes burning into yours. With mere seconds to get yourself ready for him, you take a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that he looked away, enough to put your drinks on the table next to you.

“I know you didn’t want anything, but I got you a cocktail in case you change your mind later,” he tells you and the only reason you actually understand every word he is saying is because you are staring at his lips. The music is loud, loud enough to make you want to come closer to him and ask him to repeat his words but at this point, you are a certified lip reader because good god, his lips.

“That’s okay.”

You wanted to say more, you really did, but the moment he put those drinks down, his hands were on your waist and he was close now, closer than he was before, with just an inch of space between your face and his. And even this close, even with a damn inch between the two of you, he stares into your eyes, directly into your eyes, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. And frankly, he most likely does.

“Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You let him take you down into the crowd again, not even noticing the loss of your precious brochure you’ve used as a makeshift fan. You let him stay close to you and you let him keep his hands on you at all times. You let him take over your entire mind, knowing that at this point, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him.

Where? Where are guys like these? Where are guys who are confident, funny, charming and sexy, without trying to get into your pants like desperate teenagers? He has the right amount of everything and a part of you wonders where are others like him? But with him in front of you, directly in front of you, with barely an inch of thin air between you, does it really matter?

You’ve given up, totally and completely. You let him eat you up with his eyes, sway your hips to the beats of bad music in any direction he wants, smiling back at him when he smiles at you.

He is closer now, even closer than before, your noses brushing against each other every other moment. He is closer and you feel like you’re going to faint if he doesn’t do something, anything really.

It’s a weird feeling to describe. You don’t know what you want but you want it, bad. And while in theory, it would be easy to take the last step and just kiss him, you can’t do it. What’s stopping you – you don’t know, you really don’t. Yes, he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants you to do anything but his actions speak enough on their own. You could close the space between the two of you and end the misery but you can’t. Something is stopping you and at this point, it feels suffocating.

All of it. Him, the crowd, the sweaty bodies all around you – it’s too much. You need fresh air. Right now.

“What time is it?” you yell at him and you can see he’s surprised – you’ve mostly been quiet, overcome with everything else to form rational thoughts. Not only that, but you’re asking about time, of all things.

“Almost 1:30AM,” he tells you, after glancing on his wristwatch, before returning the hand back on your waist. “Why? Do you want to leave?” he asks and for one second, one damn second, you see a trace of something other than pure confidence on his face. It’s not insecurity or worry, not even disappointment. It looks like a mix of all three and something else, but it’s all very faint and lasts for barely a second before he smiles at you. “It’s okay if you do. Truly.”

“It’s not that I want to leave,” you mumble, before remembering you’re in a damn club. So, you close the space between the two of you and put your lips to his ear, brushing his skin as you speak. “It’s not that I want to leave. But I need some fresh air. We can come back if you want to.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks as you pull away and you nod. “You sure?” he asks, looking at you with worry in his eyes. He’s questioning it, if only a little bit, probably worried that you’re running away and he’s being pushy. Which isn’t the truth. You are running away, but not from him, not exactly.

“Yes,” you laugh, taking his hand, as if to show that you mean it. He smiles back at you and leads the way. You think he’d go back to your borrowed table, so that he can finish his drink but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he leads the way to the area where you left your bags in exchange for 5 euros.

Seeing as you are the only ones leaving this early, the exchange for your stuff is quick and by the time you are breathing in the cool Paris air, it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since you’ve expressed your desire to leave. And the cool air helps. Well, it’s either the cool air or the fact that Jimin isn’t attached to you at this moment. With a bit of distance between you, you can actually use your brain.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he watches you take deep breaths. “We can walk it off if you’ve had too much to drink? I can walk you back to your place if you want to leave?” he suggests.

“No,” you smile at him, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by how helpful he is, as well as worried. “I’m not wasted. I don’t even know if I’m tipsy anymore,” you tell him. Sure, you might not be tipsy from the alcohol but he is a different story – you are very much drunk on him. But you won’t tell him that. “I just needed a bit of air. Maybe we can walk? Then come back or something?”

“Sure, yeah,” he nods and you lead the way. “You know, we don’t have to come back here because of me. I’m perfectly fine with just walking around. We can go somewhere else or find a bench to sit on. I can call a cab for you if you want to go back to your place.”

“I’m enjoying tonight very much,” you reassure him. There are… so many other things that you’d like to say, about him and the way he makes you feel, but you just… don’t have the balls to do so. So you simply settle with reassuring him that you’re enjoying the night. “Let’s just walk around and then figure out what we want to do next. The same goes for you – I’m fine with doing whatever you want to do.”

“You know, the last light show of the night is at 2AM,” he tells you, glancing at his watch quickly. “We can still catch it, if you’d like to. Maybe we even have time to go to the tower itself but we can definitely make it to Trocadéro on time?” he suggests and even though you normally refuse to be such a basic tourist, a huge part of you is excited at the thought of seeing the tower light up.

“I haven’t seen it yet. You want to go?” you ask, continuing with the tradition he had started of questioning everything for whatever reason.

“Sure, let’s go.”

There are people roaming around the area – of course there are, it’s Paris, there are tourists in every nook and cranny of the damn city. However, the numbers are smaller than they were when you went here the other day. You were definitely not alone but you did manage to find a section of the fence where no one was waiting with their cameras ready. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing now, waiting to capture the perfect moment of the tower lighting up.

You’ve been fairly quiet since you’ve left the club but it wasn’t the negative kind of silence, not at all. It was the silence that comes after a slightly overwhelming moment. You’re not sure if Jimin feels the same and if he does, he sure didn’t show it, but he was quiet along with you, speaking up only when you do, smiling your way whenever you’ve felt brave enough to make direct eye contact. It was comfortable and it made you realize just how much you have let this total stranger get under your skin.

“Doesn’t this feel a bit like the New Year’s countdown?” you ask, adjusting your camera so that the tower is right in the center of it – as much as Jimin is overwhelming, you still want to capture a decent photograph. It’s a once in a lifetime event. At least for us, non-Parisian commoners.

“It does,” he chuckles. “Ah, here we go!”

It’s impossible not to laugh at all the sighs of wonder you hear coming from around you. Yes, it’s a beautiful sight but… come on! It’s not a natural phenomenon; it’s a tower with lights on it! You sense Jimin reacting to it the same way you do, laughing a bit at the amazement of everyone around you but still taking a photo and enjoying the moment.

“Wait, let me take a photo of you,” he tells you and to your surprise, he doesn’t ask for your camera – he simply steps back with his. You don’t say anything and you try not to think too much of it but at the very least you are now expecting an exchange of social media or emails, knowing that you now have a perfect excuse of contacting him. Unable to hide a smile at the realization, you try to strike a casual pose, all while feeling like a complete idiot because he is looking at you again. “Wait,” he suddenly says and walks back up to you, reaching his hand closer to your face. “May I?”

You nod, not even sure what exactly you’re agreeing to here. Gently, he runs his hand through your hair, similar to the way he runs it through his own hair a few times a minute, messing it up a little bit. You don’t exactly have a mirror on you right now, but you imagine it’s the cute kind of messy, not the messy kind of messy. Why would he want you to look like shit for the photo? So, you let him, trying to ignore the way your pulse races because of him being so close. “There,” he steps away from you, smiling.

“Messy enough?” you joke, laughing when he does.

“It’s not messy, it’s sexy,” he tells you and yeah, your stupid heart is in overdrive, the butterflies in your stomach wilding and your face absolutely blushing. “It’s cute, natural. It’s more you than the preppy pose you’ve just tried to pull off,” and now he kind of insulted you.

“Hey!” you snap back, unable to keep a straight face when he starts laughing again. “You’ve known me for a few hours, how do you know preppy poses aren’t my thing?”

“I just know,” he shrugs. “Now act natural. Smile.”

You wanted to fight him back in a passive aggressive way and remain preppy but you just can’t – not with him making you smile. So you smile and giggle, pretending like he doesn’t have a camera in front of his face. If he wants you to be natural, you’re going to be natural.

After a few shots, he moves the camera away from his face and gives you the most blinding smile he had given you so far.

“Your turn,” you order him, unsure how you can even talk anymore. You feel like jelly on the inside and it’s actually quite worrying, seeing as you haven’t felt like this many times in your life. Of course, you liked people, you dated people, hell you’ve even loved a guy or two! But god good, they’re not Jimin. The guy has it all and all of it is affecting you in ways you didn’t know you could be affected.

You swallow a few lumps as you try to focus on the tower too, and not just him, because yes, it kind of needs to be in the picture too and that is the whole point of this, isn’t it? It takes you a few tries but you end up with a good shot. No matter how tonight ends, you’ll have a palpable memory of Jimin saved in your camera and you’d be lying to yourself if you say that doesn’t make you feel a bit more at ease.

“How can something be so tacky and so breathtakingly beautiful at the same time?” you ask while walking back towards the fence, letting the camera dangle around your neck as you stand next to Jimin.

“It really is amazing, isn’t it?” he chuckles. This time around, you are the one shamelessly staring – he is too preoccupied with looking at the tower. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s Paris, or just tonight or maybe even you, but everything feels so… I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he’s in disbelief. “I guess I’m just… really enjoying tonight.”

Here he is, this… beautiful, hot, kind, charming stranger, right next to you. Just a few days ago, he was no more than a fellow tourist. Just a few days ago, you didn’t think much of him. Today was a different story. Today, he didn’t let you push him into the back of your mind. Today he had made himself the focus of your day, night and quite frankly, this whole damn trip.

You don’t have to see him ever again if you don’t want to. If destiny keeps messing with you, you might run into him back home but by then, enough time would have passed for you to be able to keep your cool. If it goes good… it’ll go good. And if it goes bad, you can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened, and that your whole Parisian escapade was not Jimin centric. It might be easier said than done but you’re a tough cookie. You can do it.

Why not go for it? Seriously Y/N, why not go for it?

So you do.

You step closer to him and reach your hand out, putting it on his cheek and turning him to face you – he doesn’t have enough time to react properly but you can see the flash of surprise on his face. There is no time for him to say or do anything, because you lean in and press your lips to his.

Fuck it. Seriously, just fuck it. You’re here, he’s here and with doing practically nothing, he’d made you feel more than you’ve felt in months. As tacky as it is, you truly do only live once and you know yourself well enough to know you’d end up regretting not doing this.

You might regret it anyways, who knows. But you’d eat yourself away if you hadn’t gone for it.

You’d be lying if you said that the kiss is magical. Really, it’s awkward. Your lips are not much in comparison to his beautifully plump ones and while that could be overpowering, he technically isn’t moving. What you thought would be a kiss that would rock your world, ends up being nothing more than one slightly longer peck because he isn’t moving.

You can feel it – you’ve fucked up. You went for it and in hindsight, you shouldn’t have. Feeling absolutely mortified by his lack of response, you pull away, feeling even worse when you see the way he’s looking at you – no awe, no surprise, no excitement. He doesn’t look pissed either, or confused. It’s difficult to describe it but he’s almost… scowling at you.

You’ve fucked it up. But that’s okay. At least you won’t wonder about the ‘what ifs’.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him quickly. As much as you’re trying to reassure yourself that it’s better to know than to wonder, you’re absolutely dying on the inside. If there’s a hole near here in which you could hide, right this second, you’d go there. Alas, you’re out in the open and have to deal with the mess you’ve made. “I guess I’ve misread the signals. I-“

With his hand on your back, he pulls you smack into his chest, not leaving any room between the two of you whatsoever. All that you see is him leaning into you with his eyes closed.

It’s not a peck – it’s anything but a peck. His lips guide yours to open and not even a second later, you feel his tongue moving against yours. He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies practically stuck together, with your hands squished between you. You feel him run his other hand through your hair, turning your head a bit towards the side so that he can have more access to you, as if he hadn’t had enough to begin with. His tongue is relentless and you’re absolutely sure that you’re about to faint, knees barely managing to keep your body standing.

You have never been kissed like this. Definitely not in public.

He pulls away slowly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. He’s not scowling like he was moments ago, but he’s also not the cute, smiley Jimin he was for the better part of the day.

And you? You’re honestly struggling to breathe. A kiss is a surprise itself but a kiss like that is not something that’s easy to survive. You’re well aware that you’re practically panting because of him but it’s hardly something you can hide. You’re affected and you’re going to be affected, no matter how embarrassed you are about it.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his voice is low, much lower than before and it’s not helping your situation at all. “You should kiss me like you mean it.”

Fuck everything.

You grab his shirt and pull him towards you once again.

Life works in mysterious ways. Just this morning, you were a regular tourist, doing regular tourist things, sticking to your itinerary as you try to cram all of Paris into one week. And now? Now you’re pressed up against a wall of a random building in a part of town you haven’t ventured into before, making out with the hottest guy you have ever met, who is also pretty much still a stranger.

You don’t even care about how uncomfortable you are in this position – him kissing you makes it all better, very literally. He is a marvelous kisser – hungry, but not overpowering, with lips for days. He smells of cologne you have never smelt before but somehow know you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Even the soft cotton of his white shirt that your hand is digging into feels heavenly.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. All you can focus on is Jimin, to the point of even almost managing to ignore a whistle directed towards the two of you.

You’ve had it coming, really – almost dry humping in the middle of the street. When Jimin starts to pull away, probably because of the wolf whistle, you still chase after him, desperately trying to keep your lips stuck together. He still moves away but not too far – he nuzzles into your neck, leaving you gasping for air at the feel of his lips attacking your neck.

Is it too far? Maybe. But too far is the exact direction in which you want to go.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” you suggest. You’ve never directly propositioned sex to someone you weren’t in a relationship with and while you were internally panicking, you also know he probably won’t refuse you. Unless the thing you’re feeling against your thigh is his phone and not him being happy to see you. “My airnbn is a bit far but we can go there?” you suggest, not wanting to be too direct and invite yourself to his place. Honestly, you’d even go into a public toilet at this point, but you’ll keep that bit of information to yourself.

He doesn’t respond immediately and you would have worried about it, if he wasn’t preoccupied with biting your neck, with enough force to leave marks and make you want to crumble. You shudder, actually shudder with pleasure as you feel his tongue run over your skin. “The place I’m staying at is just a few minutes away,” he finally speaks up, stepping away from you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do you want to go there?” he asks.

The way he looks at you tells you he’s asking you more than to just go over to the place he’s staying at. You know it, he knows it. Even though it was your suggestion, he is still checking in with you, despite probably already knowing that you’d agree to pretty much anything. You laugh at his question.

“Jimin… I’m… I’m more than fine with going to your place, yeah,” you settled for that. Letting him know that you’d let him fuck you in the middle of the street, right here, right now, might be a bit too forward of you. Incredibly accurate but perhaps too forward.

The beaming smile you get from him when you agree serves like a confirmation to yourself that no, this is absolutely not a bad idea. This is everything you’ve hoped for but didn’t think would happen. This is the brief romance that novels are written about, a story you might remember when 30 years from now, your 20something-year-old daughter goes on her first trip to Paris and you remember him. Jimin will be your story, one that you might revisit often, depending on how the night ends.

Taking your hand in his, he leads the way and you follow blindly, enjoying his touch even during simple handholding. You want to do more, so much more, but if you do, you’ll never get to your end destination. Jimin must have sensed that, because the two of you are walking faster than you did this whole day – now you actually have a goal in mind. And what a goal that will be.

“Not to bring the mood down but we could have been going to your place a lot sooner if you’d kissed me back in the club,” you admit. Maybe that was a little bit unnecessary but you want to break the silence between you – and if you can compliment him in the process, why not?

“Hmm, maybe,” he sighs, suddenly letting go of your hand, only to hug you around the waist and pull you into his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re not the only one that was worried about misreading some signals. I wanted to be sure, so I consciously waited for you to do something.”

“Thank fuck I did because that was a close one,” you laugh in disbelief, amazed to know how close you were to this simply never happening.

“Not gonna lie, I was worried,” he laughs too, giving you another quick peck. You’re positive that you’re blushing again. Every time he kisses you, your stomach does somersaults, excited at the thought of him wanting to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. Which is a lot. More than a lot. “I’m glad you mustered the courage to kiss a guy that’s quite obviously wanted to kiss you all afternoon.”

“For future notice – be more direct,” you warn him through laughter. The lucky girl who gets to experience him next deserves to be spared the inner turmoil you’ve went through. He spent the entire night dancing on the line between being very direct and not direct enough. One step in either direction would have settled your dilemma, so hopefully the next person will have more luck.

“I’m a bit preoccupied with you right now, thanks,” he chuckles as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it shamelessly. You jump up in surprise but don’t feel particularly troubled about being in public, seeing as there is no public around you, at all. It’s just the two of you, walking along the river, the boats moored along the way seemingly empty. Feeling brave, braver than you ever remember feeling, you’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, making sure to show him how much you want this. You move slowly, enjoy the feeling of taking the lead and the lazy movements of your tongues, interrupted only when you feel the need to bite his bottom lip, which is way more often than you’d be willing to admit. Somehow, you once again end up being sandwiched between him and the half wall behind you. Seizing the opportunity, you sit on the half wall, pulling Jimin towards you by the belt – his hands find their way to your waist as he situates himself between your legs. This time around you’re sure it’s not his phone you’re feeling. It’s a very prominent bulge, noticeable enough to make you salivate at the very thought of what’s hidden. You’re not the only one acting braver – for the first time tonight, Jimin’s hands find their way under your shirt, eliciting goosebumps on your back almost immediately.

It’s when his fingers move to the front and graze your bra that you remember the two of you are still very much out in the open. And while at this point you wouldn’t particularly mind letting him have you here and now, the last thing you want to add to your Paris story is being arrested for indecent exposure.

“If you keep kissing me like this, we’ll never get to your place,” you warn him and contradict yourself immediately, attacking his neck with bites that make him sigh and shudder.

“Thank fuck we’re already here.”

You reluctantly detach yourself from his neck, looking around in confusion – you don’t see a house around you, at all. There’s nothing but the walkway and the park across the street. And as much as you like Jimin, you’re not going to fuck him on a bench which he sleeps on. He sees your confusion and nods towards the river. It takes you a bit too long to connect the dots.

“You’ve rented a houseboat?!” you ask in surprise and he gives you a quick kiss, pulling away with a smile.

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Hotels are boring. Boats are awesome.”

“Who even rents a boathouse?” you ask in wonder, all the while feeling slightly pissed at yourself because why the hell didn’t you think of that? It sure would beat your tiny airbnb, with a building that has no damn stairs – nothing but an elevator. Why would you be locked in such a claustrophobic space when you can have a damn boat? Lesson learned.

“I do,” he smirks at you. “And tonight, I’m going to fuck a very beautiful girl on that boat. So I guess it was a good call. Don’t you agree?”

“Yep. Wholeheartedly. You win.”

You know you’re going to die of embarrassment when he realizes just how wet he’s made you but you’re past the point of caring. With the words he says and the way he kisses you, you and your pussy never stood a chance.

Before you can kiss him again and prolong the wait, he takes your hand and leads the way, first down a set of concrete stairs and then towards the second houseboat in a row; it’s close to the ones on its side, but not too close for comfort. Climbing up the stairs that lead to the impromptu balcony on the boat, you immediately realize the appeal of choosing housing like this – once you can take your eyes away from Jimin’s ass, that is. No, once you are not looking at it, you can appreciate the view the boat has – you can even see the Eiffel tower, a bit down the river. The deck has a huge table, a few chairs and way more plants that a boat deck needs. It looks comfortable, beautiful and with how easily accessible it is, just a bit dangerous. All the words you can use to describe the man who is now kissing your neck, standing behind you as you reach and lean yourself on the boat rail, hoping it is safe.

“I see you’re an exhibitionist,” you laugh when he pulls you back so that your ass is right against his crotch and good god, you can feel how hard he is as he rolls his hips against you.

“No. Maybe just a little,” he chuckles. You laugh too, until you feel one of his hands leave your hips and reach for the button on your jeans. You gulp, eyes widening and as if he can sense your alert, he doesn’t unbutton them immediately. “You?” he asks. God, consent is so fucking sexy.

You’ve never dabbled in it, never really thought about it either but now, in this predicament? “Maybe just a little,” your voice is low as you give him permission. You weren’t joking when you thought that he can do anything he wants, were you? It doesn’t matter, because you said yes and holy fuck, his hand is going down your pants.

You jolt immediately and how could you not, when he went straight for your clit, right off the bat. Jimin does not play around, that much is obvious. You can only pray the fence is secure enough to keep you out of the water.

“Didn’t think you’d be this turned on by foreplay in public,” he laughs directly in your ear because the moment he ran his fingers against your slit, you threw your head back to lean onto him more, afraid of your legs actually turning into jelly because of him. “I’m proven wrong.”

“You don’t know me well enough to assume my sexual preferences,” somehow, you manage to laugh and remain sassy, thought that is cut short the moment he returns his attention to your clit, circling it very, very slowly. “But I suppose you found out some.”

“And I have the whole night to learn, don’t I, Y/N?”

“You do,” you bite your lip to hold back a moan because he started rubbing his fingers against you, the sudden change from slow to fast catching you off guard.

“You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” he presses a quick kiss against your neck, pushing you more into the rail as he rubs himself against your ass in a manner that almost has you begging for more. You are, internally, but not aloud. Not yet, at least. “I don’t think anyone could hear you down here. And I know I want to.”

“Duly noted,” you moan out because he presses his fingers into you harder – with the pressure and the speed, you know you’re going to fall apart way sooner than you’d though.

There has to be some flaw, right? He cannot be this perfect, no human being can be this perfect. If you were to stick around long enough, maybe you’d find a personality trait of his that makes him less perfect than what he is now, in your eyes, but you won’t be staying long enough to find out. For tonight, you’re more than fine with letting him be your little perfection.

“Let’s go inside?” he suggests as he drags his hand away from you and that is by far the worst thing he had done the whole night. You never want him to stop touching you, but that can be arranged at a more appropriate location. You nod, or so you think you do, unsure of your movements and thoughts, and you let him pull you by the hand and towards the door, pausing to fumble with the keys.

He opens the door and you stumble inside as he puts his bag on a hallway table – you choose to throw yours on the ground, waiting for him to turn on the lights. The moment you can see him clearly, the passion takes over you.

Driven by it, you all but slam him into the wall, almost laughing as his eyes widen in surprise. You don’t though – you don’t laugh, you don’t say anything. You simply reach for the hem of his shirt and lift it up slowly, making sure that your fingers cross every inch of skin you uncover. Seeing him shiver is worth the torture you’re putting yourself through, because a part of you wants to drop to the floor and start unbuckling his belt. You fight your own instincts, wanting and hoping to give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he had given you just moments ago.

Soft to the touch but very well defined, his body is a work of art that could rival those that you have spent the last few days observing. The tattoo you discover on his ribs serves as a perfect imperfection, a blemish on the canvas that somehow looks so right. Gulping, you let him take off his shirt and as soon as he does, you’re against him, kissing those lips of his again.

You don’t stay there long – slowly traveling under his chin, down his neck and all over his chest, staying there long enough, pressing soft kisses and licks until he is properly panting. When his hips roll, subconsciously looking for any kind of friction, you decide to move further down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, looking up at him, enjoying the sight of him so visibly… distraught. The moment your eyes meet, he closes his. And now you know you’re doing it right, if for the first time he is the one afraid of eye contact and how deadly it can be.

“You’re killing me,” he chuckles nervously, his voice breathless. And you simply smile, slowly unbuckling his belt and pushing the pants down to his knees as slow as you possibly can. You want to offer a remark about how he’s clearly enjoying it but his cock is one major distraction, in the best way possible.

He’s hard and ready, the sight filling you with instant pride because you know that you did that. You made him like this. A little bit pliant, a little bit breathless and very much not ready for what’s about to come. He’s hard, twitching under your gaze, making your mouth water. You still take it slow, enjoying the pace set to tease him – slowly licking the tip of his dick, smiling as you watch his Adam’s apple bob from above you – he still can’t look at you.

“I love how you’ve been staring me down the whole night and now you can’t handle looking at me,” you admit as you slowly drag your hand up and down his cock. Of course, now he opens his eyes and looks down on you but the lump he swallows shows you that even though he responed to your challenge, he is still very much affected and you’re living for it.

“I see you like to tease,” is what he says, making you smile.

“Very much,” you nod, giving him a quick lick that is followed by another muffled curse coming from him. “But I can be kind too,” you conclude, before finally taking him into your mouth properly.

It’s a bit of a challenge but you are more than happy to take it, slowly sinking your mouth up and down his dick, enjoying the symphony of noises that is coming from him. Every sigh, every curse, every moan – it all just makes you even more adamant to give him the best head of his life.

“Fuck Y/N,” he barely manages to say, moaning as you speed up your movements. He gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly starts guiding you faster, eyeing your reaction, despite being momentarily distracted by the sight of you taking all of him into your mouth. “Fuck, you look so… You’re gonna make me come,” he lets out a slightly panicked laughter, gently pushing you away from him, to which you pout. Despite not being that big on blowjobs, giving one to Jimin felt somewhat like a privilege and you wouldn’t admit that lightly. Not wanting to stop completely, you squeeze him in your hand, slowly moving up and down, watching as he goes through another crisis. “Y/N,” he laughs in warning, making you stop, albeit reluctantly.

“Isn’t it the point to make you come?” you ask but still stand up when his hands grab yours by the elbows and he lifts you up to stand next to him.

“Absolutely,” his eyes don’t leave your lips and he gives you a quick kiss, biting into your bottom lip hard enough to earn a moan. “But not like that, not before I fuck you. Not before I have my way with you.”

The smile on his face looks sinister enough to make you even wetter than you were moments ago. He doesn’t sound like a man who makes promises lightly and you get your confirmation as he puts his hands on your hips and starts pushing you back towards the room behind you. You’re too fucked out to notice anything other than the fairly modern design of the furniture around you. Before you can notice anything in particular, your ass slams into a hard surface and you jump up, letting him settle between your legs again and kiss you even harder than he did all night.

You’re the target now, and good god, you’re loving it. His lips alter between being gentle and harsh, kissing you with so much passion before biting, as if he wants to show you that he’s the one in charge. And you let him. By god, you let him.

He takes your shirt and bra off quickly, not wanting to drag it out like you did, but the moment you’re half naked before his eyes, he slows down. If him staring you down made you feel nervous before, you are positively burning right now because he is eating you up. He doesn’t even have to touch you – just the sight of him, looking like he’s about to ruin you is enough to cause goosebumps to form all over your body. He comes closer, attaching his lips to your chest. You are losing your mind because he is purposely slow, kissing you all over before finally attaching his lips to your nipple, taking it into his mouth and slowly rolling his tongue against it. You swear you can feel him smiling, but you’re too far gone to check – especially not when his hand reaches for your other breast, squeezing it shamelessly. You’ve been able to control your noises for a little while, but the moment his teeth come out to play, you’re a goner. With his fingers and lips moving at the same time, you can only moan, reaching towards something, anything to hold and settling for his hair. You grip it, perhaps a bit too harshly if his moan is anything to go by – but he doesn’t stop you. In fact, he simply sucks harder, making you arch your back towards him.

He’ll ruin you. He will absolutely ruin you and you are perfectly fine with it.

After what feels like an eternity, he detaches his mouth away from you and your eyes meet. He truly is a sight for sore eyes, especially now when he looks so blissfully fucked out. His hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and sucking, his torso a work of art. He looks so fucking hot, you moan. At the very sight of him, you moan. He’s not touching you, he’s not teasing you, he’s not doing anything but looking at you and that is enough to make you moan, moan and rut your hips in his direction, looking for friction which you find in the form of his thigh. He lets you, he lets you move against him. Your moment of pleasure doesn’t last long, because he steps back, fumbling to unbutton your jeans. You lay down, ignoring the cold of the table against your naked back, lifting your hips to help him undress you completely. Unlike the slow, sensual moves that you used on him, he is quick, taking them off as fast as he possibly can. When you’re left in nothing but your underwear, that is when he slows down again, crouching down out of your sight.

“Fuck!” you gasp in surprise when you feel him nuzzling his nose against your clothed center – you can feel how wet you are and you know, you know he can smell it, feel it, see it and you absolutely do not care. In fact, you’re even more turned on by the thought of it – he clearly is enjoying it and you want nothing more than to let him know how good he’s making you feel.

He doesn’t torture you for too long and other than a muffled curse, he doesn’t comment on how wet you are for him. Instead, he goes right down to business, using his fingers to move your underwear to the side and he immediately attaches himself to your clit, sucking on it harshly, with the same fervor as when he was sucking on your nipples.  

“Fuck, Jimin!” you moan out, gripping his hair with all the strength you have, knowing that that must have hurt – again, he shows no signs of having a problem with it. Fuck, he probably even likes it.

“What is it baby?” he asks, not waiting for your response and instead choosing to lick up your center. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you manage to reply, momentarily distracted by the feel of his finger sinking into you.

“If you let me, I’ll eat you out for hours tomorrow morning,” he tells you, pausing to bite on your thigh, a bite that you know will leave teeth marks, but you don’t protest. “As much as I’d be willing to do it for hours right now, I really need you on my cock.”

“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, biting your lip at the feel of him sinking another finger into you, slowly dragging them in and out as he stands up, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. You say nothing more – you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You move your hips in time with his fingers, riding them like you would, and hopefully will, ride his dick in a matter of moments.

“Bedroom?” he suggests as he stops his assault on you. You nod, somehow managing to sit up, nearly laughing at the sight of him. Half naked, with his jeans still hanging right above his knees, his member standing up proudly. How he could wobble you towards the table in that state is beyond you. You don’t have a chance to ask, too distracted with the sight of him licking his fingers, all while looking directly into your eyes. He’ll be the death of you, that’s for sure.

You stand up, leaning against the table as he loses the last articles of his clothing – you barely have the time to take a few deep breaths before he starts kissing you again, his tongue overpowering yours as you moan at the taste of him. You don’t bother opening your eyes, letting him lead you towards the bedroom, trusting him that you won’t end up overboard, hoping that if you do, you wouldn’t be too turned on to notice. You hit a wall and a door on your way there, giggling by the time he is pushing you onto a bed, finally letting you breathe. Standing above you, he somehow manages to look both menacing and hot at the same time. His eyes tell you to wait, which you gladly do, watching him as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You choke on your own breath when you notice his ass, for the first time without the barrier of skintight jeans – it’s a sight, alright. You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase, smiling at him when he turns around, waving a condom at you.

No matter how much you’re into him, there’s no way he’s fucking you without protection. You’re glad he’s on the same page, not even stopping to suggest going bare. While you’d like that and you’re guessing so would he, it’s simply not happening. He walks towards you, not putting the condom on immediately, instead choosing to give his member a few strokes, enjoying the view of you on his bed, naked and waiting. Though your lip bite was an unconscious reaction at the sight before you, he is affected, grunting at the sight – the moment the condom is covering his dick, he is rushing to get on top of you, finally letting you feel his whole body against your own.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you before kissing you passionately, flicking his tongue slowly as he settles between your legs. He doesn’t enter you immediately, instead choosing to grind onto you, making the both of you moan into the kiss. You’re the one who pulls away, if only for a moment.

“Please,” you moan out, enjoying the feel of his dick rubbing against you, pushing you closer to the edge – too close, considering you didn’t even have a chance to feel him inside of you. “Please just fuck me.”

“Gladly,” he gives you a quick kiss before finally sliding into you. Slowly and with ease, he fills you up in a way that makes you moan – louder than you did the whole night, feeling absolutely shameless. You don’t care, you don’t care where you are or who can hear you, if anyone – he feels that damn good.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, taken by surprise with him slowly rolling his hips into you. It’s as if he can tell you need no more time to adjust to him, he starts moving a bit faster with each roll of his hips, making you curse out as you grab onto him, your fingers digging into his skin. It seems he enjoys you being rough with him, showing him how good he’s making you feel because he isn’t complaining and you know it has to hurt. He wastes no time, dipping down to take your nipple into his mouth, never stopping his dick from moving in and out of you in the best of ways.

“God,you’re so tight baby!” he grunts as his thrusts become harder and faster, so much so that you faintly notice the sound of the bed thumping into something, most likely the wall. You don’t care, you really don’t – you pull him closer to you, blindly reaching for his lips, enjoying the way he overpowers your senses, even smell - he smells like sex and expensive cologne, the most mouthwatering scent you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling. The moment your lips touch, you feel his hand graze your clit, eliciting a particularly loud moan for you. Unable to focus on anything, you give into pleasure and let him do whatever he wants with you, the onslaught on your senses killing the little sanity you had left.

You dare and think it can’t get any better than this and right as you do, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, pinching your clit between his fingers at the same time. You weren’t ready – you weren’t ready for it at all and with his actions catching you by surprise, you lose the little control you’ve had, coming hard. The orgasm washes over you stronger than any orgasm in your recent memory, making you gasp and moan, holding onto him with all the strength your body has left. He is losing his cool too – his hands give in and he’s pressed up against you completely, lips grazing your ear. “Just like that, come all over my cock,” he urges you through your high, his words making it even harder for you to calm down.

Body shivering, you somehow calm down your breathing – it’s a challenge, seeing as he still hasn’t stopped moving completely. He slowed down enough not to send you in complete overdrive too soon. Even his consideration is a turn on – almost as strong of a turn on as him using your body to pleasure himself, still rolling his hips into you and moaning softly, directly into your ear, the moan turning more high pitched when he feels your nails running up and down his back.

Turning your head towards him, you search for his lips. He kisses you eagerly, stilling himself inside of you for a moment, as if he wants to focus on the kiss and kiss alone. Slowly, he moves away from you and leans back, running his hand up your thigh. He raises his eyebrows as he pushes your leg up, asking you for permission. You nod, moaning as he moves your leg towards the side. Quickly, you turn to your side completely and judging by the moan he lets out, that’s exactly what he needed you to do.

You want to do more, you do. You want to ride him till you can no longer move but he is so damn overwhelming, all you can do right now is just… take it. And you’re not complaining. Slowly but surely, the pleasure builds up again and you realize there’s a strong chance you’ll come again. Suddenly brave again, you look at him, directly at him, as you put a hand between your legs and start rubbing yourself. The moment he realizes what you’re doing, he looks down, lifting your leg up so that he can have a better view. “Fuck,” is all he says, followed by the sexiest groan you have ever heard a man make.

“I’m so close,” you warn him, wanting to feel all of it again but somehow not wanting it to end.

“Come on baby, come for me again,” he urges you on. As much as you want to, you really don’t want it to be over anytime soon - the buildup was so damn hot and you simply don’t want to stop. Thinking about his earlier promise about eating you out for hours is what pushes you over the edge. Feeling Jimin and think of the dirty words he whispered in your ear is enough for you to come again, your entire body shivering with pure pleasure. Looking up at him, you notice the way his face scrunches, the way his voice is deeper and his moans never stopping… he takes over you again.

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, making you remember that he can’t come inside of you and fill you up, which is something you would really, really like. You settle for the next best thing.

“Come on me,” you tell him, moving your leg out of his still firm grip, and spreading your legs as much as possible, now having a perfect view of him slamming into you, much faster than he did before. “Come anywhere you want,” you urge him, biting your lip as his hips lose rhythm at your suggestion. In the speed of light, he slips out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more, more of him, more of his dick, more of anything he’d be willing to give you. You watch as he takes the condom off in the speed of light, still rubbing yourself and ignoring the overstimulation you are feeling, absolutely urged by the hottest sight you have seen in your entire life: Jimin, stroking himself with a firm grip, moaning loudly as he closes his eyes, his face scrunched in pleasure.

You watch in awe as he finishes all over you, the streaks of his cum reaching all the way up to your breasts. You have never, never in your entire life, experienced anything hotter than this. You know now, there is nothing hotter than watching Jimin orgasm. And you have never in your miserable life had sex nearly as good as the one you had now.

Jimin’s body gives up and he falls directly on top of you, making you chuckle. Your hands roam his back, as if you are comforting him through the aftermath, completely ignoring the fact that his now softening member is still rubbing against you. Both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered in his cum but you don’t care and neither does he. Once he is finally able to move, he simply leans a bit to the side, just so that he can look at you. And he does. With the brightest, sweetest smile that shouldn’t belong to a man who fucked you as hard as he just did.

“Hi,” you speak up first, shocked at how rough your voice sounds. Perhaps you were a bit louder than you thought you were. He smiles and you feel yourself melting again, accepting that you are whipped for him, way more whipped than you should be for someone you barely know. He doesn’t make it any easier on you when he leans in for a kiss, his lips slow and lazy and yours following suit, ignoring the butterflies that are going berserk in your stomach again. You ignore it all, shutting your brain off and enjoying the post sex glow that he is radiating with.

He pulls away but not before caressing your face and pushing hair behind your ear – a very sweet action for someone whose mouth can do all those dirty, lovely things.

“That was… wow,” he admits and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you see a blush on his face – a blush that isn’t caused by alcohol, that is. Is he suddenly shy? Is it the post sex blush? You don’t know and you don’t care, as long as you can keep looking at him.

“Wow seems appropriate,” you agree, joining in his laughter. He is still chuckling as he nuzzles into your neck, giving you a few quick pecks before pulling away.

“Do you want to stay the night?” he raises his eyebrows, giving you a way out if you don’t want to take him up on his earlier offer. “I could call you a cab or even walk you back to your place. I’d like you to stay the night though.”

“Good, because I don’t think I can use my legs at the moment.”

It wasn’t supposed to be such a funny remark but for some reason, he laughs hard and after fighting it for a few seconds, you can’t help but join in. If you look past his hotness and the ease with which he communicates with people, he really does have a comfortable aura around him – if he laughs, it’s contagious and you don’t mind joining in.

The two of you calm down and after a few moments of silence, he runs his hand through your hair again, pushing it away from your face as his eyes focus on different parts of it – first your eyes, then your lips, then your cheeks. It looks as if he is trying to memorize you and to that you can relate because this is one night you’d never want to forget, not one part of it. And not one part of him. “Let’s go and get cleaned up?” he suggests.

You’ve lost count of how many times you have let him take you by the hand and lead the way for the both of you. You are yet to regret those decisions, gladly letting him lead the way now, knowing that wherever he takes you… it’s going to be good.

You wake up feeling content, well rested and sore, all at once. With a dumb smile on your face, you giggle and bury your face in the pillow – it smells of him, making your memories of the night before even more vivid.

His promise of devoting hours to you and your body this morning did not wait until dawn. It all occurred the night before, with you still kissing one another by the time sun had started to rise and the birds had started chirping.

It all comes back to you in flashes, the bath you took together, the way he caressed your skin as he was washing you up, before his hands went a bit further south. Both the sweet words and the dirty talk are engraved in your mind forever, just like the way he made you feel all of last night.

You knew it before, you’re sure of it now – he has ruined you. He has absolutely ruined you, in the best way possible. And you don’t want it to end.

You knew it had an expiration date. This is a trip romance – short, sweet, steamy and memorable. It had an expiration date the moment the two of you shared the first smiles in front of ‘Shakespeare and company’. While the thought of it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you’re a big girl and you can live with it. Smiling, you decide to enjoy the morning, or early afternoon, with Jimin. You’ll deal with the negative side effects later.

“Afternoon, beautiful,” you hear him, turning around towards the direction his voice is coming from – he is leaning against the doorway, smiling at you, looking too hot for his own good with gray sweatpants, a white shirt and a part of his dark hair pulled back in a makeshift bun. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” he smiles as you close your eyes and shamelessly yawn, remembering a second too late that you should put a hand over your mouth. You open your eyes just in time to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your naked thigh and slowly moving it up and down your skin. It’s not as sexual as his touches were last night – in fact, this feels more comforting than anything else. “How long was I out? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept like a log. And it’s 2PM now, so you’ve had a few hours.”

“2PM?” you’re shocked to realized you’ve already lost half the day. It was very much worth it, though.

“You have somewhere to be?” he teases you, probably unaware how he makes the butterflies in your stomach go nuts. You have a sneaky suspicion that he’s not aware of your dilemma – do you go, do you stay? Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay? What are you even supposed to say now?

“No, not really,” you shrug, cowardly throwing the ball into his court. You’ll admit it, you’re a whimp and you are more than happy to let him decide if you should be on your way or stick around a bit longer.

“Well, I’ve made us some quick lunch. I wanted to order something but wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around for food… so I figured I’ll make something and eat both portions if you bolt,” he admits through laughter and you’re immediately relieved – you weren’t the only one uncertain about everything.

“I don’t have to bolt. And I’m also kind of starving,” you admit, shuddering when you remember that the last thing you ate was a croissant almost a full day ago – you’re absolutely starving.

“We can eat on the deck if you want?” he suggest, before breaking out into a sudden smile.

“What?” you ask, confused with how he’s looking at you. You either have something on your face or he’s going to make this whole thing 20 times more difficult and you’re afraid the second situation is more likely.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that,” he shrugs as you let him run his hands through your hair.

“Half-dead and messy looking? I’m sure I am,” you roll your eyes.

“Not messy. Sexy,” he corrects you, the same way he did last night. With a sigh, he pulls away and stands up. “I’m starving too, so you’d better hurry up if you don’t want me eating you up instead.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that, to be honest,” you admit, hiding your face in his pillow, knowing that you no longer have the dark to hide the blush that appears whenever you say something a bit more straightforward.

You expected him to say something or maybe laugh – you absolutely didn’t expect to feel his teeth on your right ass cheek. You jump up in surprise, nearly hitting him in the head when your leg jerks, but that only makes him laugh. You’re smiling way too wide for someone who’s just been bitten on the ass and you decide to scream into the pillow once he’s away enough not to hear it.

“Your clothes and underwear are dry and clean but feel free to steal that shirt from me,” he winks at you. “I’ll wait on the deck.”

With that, he leaves you alone to get dressed, try to gather your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, control your emotions a little bit. It would have been a lot easier if he was the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kind of guy but surprise, he’s not! No, he fucked you like a full-fledged sex god, giving you the best night of your life, while caring enough to throw your clothes into the washer and drier and even wanting to feed you the next day. Nope, still no flaws in sight for Park Jimin.

You wash up quickly, slapping yourself a few times for good measure, hoping to calm yourself down enough to be able to turn around and leave very soon. You still don’t know if it had worked but your bag is packed and you join him on the deck, dressed in your jeans and the shirt he wore yesterday that he generously let you sleep in and steal for good.

He doesn’t notice you immediately, leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. The sight of him sitting like that, with his dark hair pulled back and tied, his neck in full view and all but glowing in the sunlight makes you want to cry. The man is actually so goddamn pretty it almost brings tears to your eyes. It doesn’t help when he notices you and smiles at you, pointing at the two bowls set on the table.

“I know it’s just noodles but honestly, I’m too pretty to know how to cook,” he explains as you take a seat. You burst out laughing at his comment.

“Cocky yet very true,” you nod in appreciation. “Don’t worry, I love ramen.”

“It’s lame but I at least I’ve added poached eggs,” he tells you, looking oh so proud about adding an extra ingredient.

“Nothing beats instant ramen,” you reassure him. “It smells of youth, not having enough money and artificial flavoring. I’ve never felt more at home,” this time around, it’s he who laughs, wishing you a good meal as the both of you dig into the food. You weren’t lying when you said it’s more than okay – you just need some food in the belly and it’s not like you’ve expected him to greet you with a full course meal. It’s the thought that counts and it’s more than enough. Actually, it might even be too much.

Halfway through your lunch, the silence between you turns slightly uncomfortable. It isn’t anything that either one of you did – it’s just the entire situation. The clock is ticking, the both of you know it and neither one of you is quite sure how to act about it. You can’t stay here for another day, even if you wanted to – your stuff and a huge chunk of your money is back at your airbnb. Even with that little detail aside, you’re not even sure if you want to say – not to mention, if he wants you to stay or not.

But it feels… wrong. It feels wrong to leave just like that, pretending like he hadn’t given you an amazing night. Not only was the sex mind-blowingly good… even before that, he was a perfect travel partner yesterday. He’s good company and knowing you’ll be saying goodbye to all of that… it doesn’t sit well with you.

Despite avoiding eye contact for a few minutes now, you fail and the moment your eyes meet from across the table, you know you’ve reached that page of the little novella the two of you wrote. He knows it too, setting away his chopsticks, sighing as he leans back into the chair. You say nothing, watching him as he stares you down, slowly shaking his head.

“I don’t want this to end,” he admits. You stay silent, following his suit as you put away your own chopsticks and lean back into the chair, completely shutting down the rest of the world – you no longer hear the birds or passing boats. You don’t see the tourists walking along the river, you don’t even feel the subtle waves that gently sway the boat you’re on – you can only focus on him, on his face, on the way he looks bothered by this. “It feels wrong to end this but at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the only proper way to go about it? Am I making any sense?” he asks, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Yeah,” you nod immediately, assuring him that you do understand it. “It feels good, it feels right, like it would be a shame to walk away from but… what else can be done?”

“Exactly,” he agrees, leaning towards you. “It feels equally right and wrong. What are we going to do?”

You can go back to get your stuff and spend the rest of the trip here with him. You can exchange numbers and meet up back home. It could lead to something beautiful, a continuation of a marvelous chapter one, just as easily as it can lead to a complete disaster. Life’s unpredictable and you don’t know if it’s worth it to possibly ruin this amazing… encounter.

How can you even find an answer to that? Not like this whole thing hasn’t been…

“You believe in destiny, don’t you?” you ask him, suddenly putting two and two together, smiling at the confused nod he gives you. “We met here so many times. Different days, different times, we somehow ended up together. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” you ask.

“What are you suggesting here? To… see if we meet again?”

“Exactly,” you nod, feeling proud of the solution you’ve come up with. “You believe in destiny and I don’t. If we meet again, I’d be willing to question that belief. We go our separate ways. If it ends up being a onetime encounter, we’ll remember it with smiles on our faces. And if we meet…”

“I don’t let you walk away again,” he smirks at you. You don’t say anything as that smirk turns into a genuine, real smile. He means it, he actually means it. And if you meet him again… you will too. “What happens if we run into each other back home?” he asks.

You remember how you talked last night, realizing that the two of you were hanging around the same places before, perhaps even at the same time. It made you wonder how many times you have passed one another, without a second glance, thinking of other things, of other people. Running into him back home seems more likely than seeing him again here in Paris.

“Then we say hello and see where that takes us,” you answer adamantly.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

He offers you his hand from across the table and you shake it firmly, suddenly a lot more hopeful than you were moments ago. No, you don’t believe in destiny but if there’s someone that could make you question that, it’s Park Jimin himself.

“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath as you wrestle your way through the crowd – for the first time since you’ve arrived in Paris, you were stuck in the metro during rush hour and you have never felt so many backpacks smacking your face in such a short amount of time.

Trying to get Google Maps on, you make your way up the stairs and into fresh air, taking a deep breath when you do. If your phone is correct and based on your previous experiences, it’s probably not, you’re a five minute walk away from the Luxembourg Gardens.  A perfect way to end your last full day in Paris – outside and hopefully away from any kind of crowd.

You walk in the direction your navigation deems right, checking every few seconds if it had started spinning out of control like it did yesterday – there is nothing more stressful than your GPS telling you to turn right and once you do, immediately telling you to take a sharp left.

It’s the smell that makes you take a detour – it’s always the smell. Sure, you could continue to sheepishly follow your navigation but when the smell of freshly baked pastry smacks you in the face, you know where you’re heading. The bakery is fairly empty and you test your poor French as you order a plain croissant.

Damn him and his plain croissants. Something that should be so simple and so irrelevant now irks you, almost to the point of you changing your order to a chocolate one. You don’t, already knowing that you’re nowhere near proficient enough in French to explain your change of heart.

The lady behind the counter is a bit of a bitch, not waiting for you to put your wallet away before she hands you your meal, giving you a dirty look when it takes you a second too long to take it from her. Offering her a sour, kiss-my-ass smile, you take the pastry and head towards the door, now trying to juggle your food, phone, wallet and the door handle, all at once.

You’ve just managed to close the door behind you and turn around, nearly avoiding a collision.

“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, gripping your phone and the pastry harder, stopping them from flying out of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. You slowly look up, scared of both confirming and denying your suspicions, unsure which one would hurt more – him being here or him being a product of your imagination. You know that voice and you know it well.

It’s him, looking panicked and checking if you have a hold on your things. “I’m sorry, I…” he goes mute once his eyes meet yours and he realizes it’s you.

Jimin stares at you, not saying anything. One second before the encounter turns uncomfortable, you watch in amazement as he grins at you, a grin so wide and genuine your heart skips a beat.

“I… I could have dropped my croissant.”

He huffs a small laugh at your horribly timed Vine reference, pursing his lips as he tries to hide his smile – why, you don’t know and don’t care to find out because he can’t do it. He can’t hide his smile and it’s evident that he’s happy to see you. So are you, thanking and cursing at destiny at the same time.

Taking your empty hand in his, he says nothing as he intertwines your fingers and starts walking, slowly leading you away with him. You follow him, desperately thinking of what to say, of what to do but somehow too panicked to actually do anything. It feels like one of you should do something and apparently, he thinks the same because he suddenly stops and turns your way.

He puts his hands on your face, pulling you in for a kiss. The moment your lips are pressed against his, you remember how much you’ve wanted to do this since the last time you’ve kissed him, before walking down the steps of his boathouse. The relief that fills you as he deepens the kiss makes you a reluctant but firm believer in destiny.

No words are needed, you know that now. So when he leans away and smiles at you, you smile back, reaching for his hand again. He leads the way and again you follow, knowing you’re definitely not going to regret it this time either. THE END

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Disclaimer that I am not a therapist nor bipolar but I have had a therapist so I’m hoping it’s not too awful of a depiction. Also want to add a minor content warning for the ending scene for homophobia, nothing explicit or even verbal, just a woman with an icky vibe.

Wednesday, 16:04

Song: Haux - Youth

Sander tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the fan in the corner. It drones in slow circles, doing little more than disturbing the air right in front of it. It still makes the air in the room chilly enough that Sander is glad he’s wearing a sweater, though.

Between it and the window is an ‘abstract’ painting of the brain. Abstract in that the supposed organ is actually scattered in pieces throughout the canvas, all in various states of destruction. One has trees growing out of it, for example. Another is on fire; it’s Sander’s favourite.

He’d stared at it with an absurd sort of fascination in his first session, almost two years ago now, and his therapist, Agathe, had simply smiled at him and asked if he liked art. It was a sneaky way in, but he supposed that was the point. These meetings have gotten fewer and farther apart over that time, now that he can supposedly manage himself to a high enough standard on his own. Well, not quite enough, he supposes, or he probably wouldn’t be here at all. He can practically hear Agathe’s rebuke that they are just ‘casual check-ins’, and Sander is free to go whenever he pleases.

At every one of those reminders, Sander debates doing exactly that—getting up and going. Instead, he usually ends up slumping sullenly for a few minutes before Agathe prods her way back in.

They haven’t been mandatory in a long time, these sessions, but now there’s just something...reassuring. There are still times he doesn’t bother making an appointment, but knowing he can, and knowing that someone with the right knowledge doesn’t see any reason to worry about him, leaves a pretty damn good sense of relief.

And he did have a bit of a blip, at the start of the year. A few days in which he had to be prodded and coerced into just taking a drink of water, and had spent the majority of in his room. It had overlapped the holidays, so he’d let Robbe come and cocoon himself with him for a good chunk of the time.

It hadn’t made him better. But it made him...safe, or something similar, and that was the most he could hope for.

It was the coming-out-of-nowhere aspect that had shaken him a bit. He’d felt better, just keeping up his sessions then, being sure that he was at least doing alright with his medication. It’s working okay, the sitting and talking, so he shows up and just lets Agathe keep making sure.

The door cracks open now and she slips back in, dropping into the couch across from Sander and shooting him her usual calm, too-happy smile through light lipstick. It brings out her dimples. She’s not yet marred by wrinkles, but there’s something soft and aging about her face, anyway. Maybe it’s the graying roots. “Sorry about that, I forget this thing way too often.” She holds up the clipboard she’d carried in with an exasperated sigh, murmuring under her breath as she flicks through it and gets settled.

It’s all painfully familiar. It makes Sander smile.

He does like her. He’s never bothered denying that.

“So, how are we today?” It’s the same way she always starts, though it’s usually accompanied by—ah, there we go—clasped hands and another smile.

“Good,” Sander says. It’s automatic, but he also means it. Today is fine. It’s good.

She raises her brow when he doesn’t offer anything else. “Alright, good. Belated birthday wishes are in order, I believe?”

“Yeah, thank you. Just yesterday.”

She nods, and Sander does not think about how that was dumb when she obviously already knows. But she just settles back and crosses her legs. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

Sander’s lips finally stretch in a smile of his own. He thinks it’s probably a little dopey, a little lovestruck, and she probably knows exactly what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I had breakfast with my parents because Robbe took me out for dinner. Then he had a surprise party planned at our friends’ flat.”

“A party on a school night?” Agathe’s brows raise, and she shakes her head with a small laugh. “How do they deal with that today?”

“No clue,” Sander breathes out a huff of his own, trying not to feel overly amused by how Gilles had been in the class they shared with Sander earlier in the day. For once, they hadn’t said a word, just sat with their head down for the entire lecture, wincing every now and then when Sander laughed. He hadn’t even heard from any of the others, but Robbe had looked dead on his feet this morning, as well. He’d sent Sander a slightly sunnier selfie about half an hour ago, though, so he’s probably fine. “Not very well, I imagine.”

She tilts her head. “You seem well enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t drinking,” Sander shrugs.

At this, her serene little smile returns and her nod seems approving, and even though Sander hadn’t been looking for it, he grudgingly admits that it feels good. “I know that can be a difficult choice, and I’d rarely be able to make it myself,” she laughs again. “It’s great that you feel strong and comfortable enough in that group to do your own thing.”

Sander can’t help a little snort. “Are you kidding? It was one of them that had me drinking mocktails.”

“Really?” Agathe grins.

“Yeah, but then he got kinda drunk, and the last couple he made me were just disgusting because he thought these awful mixtures would be a really good idea.”

She laughs gently. “Well, it seems like it’s not the worst. ‘He’ isn’t Robbe?”

Sander shakes his head. “No, but one of his friends.”

“And what about Robbe, then? How is he?”

“Good.” A soft smile steals over his face. “The best, as always.”

“Treating you well.”

Sander’s smile widens, and he raises his brows without saying anything.

Agathe points at him. “Not what I meant, and not what I need to know.”

“I thought we can talk about whatever I want in here,” Sander says innocently.

“Alright, then,” she acquiesces. “Tell me all about it.”

Sander blanches. He thinks about it, opens his mouth, and then thinks about it some more. Closes his mouth again.

Her smile is downright devious. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffs. “It’s very healthy, just so you know.”

“I am sure.”

“Explorative. Always consenting, of course. Frequent.”

“All very normal and well for teenage boys,” she nods, and it would be completely serious if Sander couldn’t see her eyes twinkling. She pauses. “Although, I can’t call you that anymore. How does it feel to be twenty?”

Sander narrows his eyes. “Nice change of subject.”

“Oh, if you had more to say, please continue. Just a thought that occurred to me, I don’t mean to steer you, you know that.”

He does know that, and it makes him pause, because. How does it feel to be twenty? He realises he hasn’t thought about it. He realises that’s probably a good thing—that he didn’t get stuck on his birthday this year, that it was something he just enjoyed. Maybe it was simply going to sleep next to Robbe that helped, but no anxiety had taken over at the end of the day.

Even after his conversation with Jens. It’s not the most prominent part of the day of Sander’s mind even now. Instead he finds himself tucking his hand into his pocket and grasping Robbe’s key, running his thumb over the already familiar ridges.

He hadn’t even been worrying about his major fuck-up with his assignment. He’s still not.

He’s not really giving himself the chance.

Should he be?

“It feels the same as being nineteen,” he says finally. “I didn’t become a different human in a day, sadly.”

He can see her latching on. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“‘Sadly’?”

“It’s just...a joke.”

“Okay. But why do you think it’s funny?”

It annoys him, because she’s not judgmental. She’s neither amused nor disappointed. Just curious, earnest, all focused and attentive as she gazes calmly, patiently at Sander. Even his attempt at throwing her off, making her awkward, hadn’t shaken her. She remains unfazed, as always. It’s annoying.

“I don’t,” he admits, “I guess. I don’t know what I’d consider it.”

Agathe nods, softening in her understanding, and it makes something twist in his chest. “Are you not happy with the human you are, Sander?”

He gives her a bland look. When she keeps waiting, he shrugs, gesturing at the room.

“I know,” she says gently, “that of course, you feel you would be happier without your illness. But who you are now—what you study, what you’re passionate about, who you surround yourself with, how you live your life day to day. Do you wish all of that was different?”

Sander doesn’t have to think about it quite as much. “No. But I—“

He cuts himself off, hesitating. She raises her brows and nods, prompting him onwards but not pushing. If he really wants to wait her out, she’ll move on.

“I just wish that it was easier,” he says.

She tilts her head. “Easier how?”

“I messed up. At college. I completely missed an assignment because I mixed up the dates with another one.”

She winces in sympathy. “And what happened in that case? Does that mean that assignment is marked as a fail?”

“No,” Sander admits. “He gave me the time I thought I’d have to do it. Marked it down as an extension. It’s due on Friday now.”

“And is it going alright?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t struggling with it too much?”

“No.”

“Then it seems like a fairly simple mistake. Easy to make and also, thankfully, easy to fix for you. It’s not unusual. But do you see it as an effect or consequence of your illness? Is that why it bothers you?”

Sander is quiet.

She sets her clipboard aside and leans forward, clasping her hands again as she considers him. “You have to remember, Sander, that all humans are not without fault. That regardless of who we are or what we may have to deal with, we will inevitably make mistakes. Not every slip up is a reflection of you, or a sign of failure, of failing health. You’ve actually been doing very well for a long time, now. But this belief, or this worry, that it is taking a hold of you again can sometimes help it take on that direction. Do you know what I mean?”

He takes a moment to absorb the words before nodding, knowing that if he answers too quickly she won’t believe he’s listening. But he does know. He understands. He hates that she’s probably right.

“So in a situation like this,” she continues, “do you not think, that it is more beneficial for you to focus on correcting your mistake and the fact that you have that ability? Not only mentally, but overall. That your professor is so understanding must mean he thinks well of you.”

He shouldn’t ask. He does anyway, quietly. “You don’t think it’s just pity, or something?”

“No,” she huffs. “No, I do not. Did he give you the impression that that was why he was doing it?”

Sander rolls his shoulders, adjusting his position. “No.”

Her smile returns. “I think,” she says slowly, “that this all shows just how well you’re doing. That you can acknowledge your doubts are likely just that—doubts—and that you take responsibility when you mess up and try to rectify it. Do you not think those are all good things? Things just as healthy as your sex life?”

It shocks a laugh out of him, and he sees her eyes crinkle. “Maybe,” he allows. “But it really is very healthy. I don’t know if anything else should be forced to live up to the standard.”

She represses a smile. “I remember there was a time when you would never have even spoken about this in such a kind way.”

She’s right. It still freaks him out, sometimes, the hypersexuality that can be induced by his mania, and it even made him hold back from Robbe after his episode, at the beginning. The last thing he wanted was to freak Robbe out, or disgust him, or make him uncomfortable. Then Robbe had seemed downtrodden for about a week before hesitantly asking Sander if he’d done something wrong or if Sander wasn’t actually attracted to him, and Sander had corrected his doubts and behaviour fairly quickly, because how dare the most beautiful boy in the universe think that?

“How do you feel you’re doing, Sander?” Agathe asks. “Because although I can observe, only you can feel what you feel. If you are genuinely worried, we can talk about it.”

“No,” Sander admits, after a moment. “I think everything is okay, actually.” Which is the best it can ever be, really.

Now her smile is genuinely happy. “I think so, too. And I think, even if it comes about that it’s not, you have a better support than ever. Do you agree?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“It’s important to remember,” she adds, “maybe more than anything else, that if a lapse or an episode or whatever does occur, it’s not the end of the world. It’s also not a reflection of you, or a failure. Bad days, bad weeks, that’s all a part of life, and something we know you’re more than capable of dealing with and getting past. I’ve watched you do it many times before now and it’s an admirable, wonderful thing.”

Sander doesn’t actually know what to say to that. He just swallows, and feels oddly emotional, and offers her a slight nod.

The rest of the session passes in a lighter atmosphere. She lets him ramble about his assignment to alleviate what stress he does feel over it, and they spend the leftover minutes discussing his party.

Sander considers talking to her about the other thing on his mind, but ultimately decides against it. She’s already taught him how to work through that, and he really doesn’t think it will help to be putting it back into open air. Instead he leaves with a fairly upbeat farewell, and heads in the opposite direction from home.

Robbe had texted him about where he was meeting with Yasmina for a study session, and it takes Sander less than ten minutes of walking to get to the small cafe from his appointment. He sees the two of them as soon as he enters, but neither of them notice him, so he moves to the counter to buy himself a coffee before making his way over.

He’s a couple of feet away when Yasmina catches sight of him and offers her bright smile, and then Robbe is looking over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Sander greets them both, grinning as he cups Robbe’s cheek and leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “I can see we’re very busy.”

Robbe has his hand wrapped around Sander’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. He turns his head and presses a sweet kiss to Sander’s palm, nuzzling lightly against it. Sander lets his fingers slip over and tug gently on the boy’s earring before Robbe tangles their hands together and offers Sander his crinkly smile. “Hi.”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Yasmina says dryly, but she’s still grinning when Sander glances back at her.

He raises his hands; well, his free one. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t, really, he’d just wanted to be here when they were done to take Robbe home. He always likes being in the other boy’s company after a therapy session. Despite them not being quite so heavy at the moment, it’s always draining. Robbe is always able to replenish him with soft touches and soothing kisses, providing Sander with a silent, comforting company.

“Don’t be silly,” Robbe rebukes, predictably, swinging Sander’s hand idly now. “How are you?”

Sander squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m surprised you look so healthy, though.”

Robbe groans and buries his face against Sander’s arm. “Don’t. I’m suffering in silence.” He tilts his head ‘subtly’ at Yasmina.

Yasmina raises her brows at him, somehow managing to look wholly unimpressed and teasing all at once. “At least you can stave it off with sugar and coffee.”

Robbe has the sense to look sheepish, ducking his head in a nod. “You’re right, sorry, sorry.” He lets out a sigh. “You’re on too high of a level for me, Yasmina.”

“Queen shit,” Sander agrees, just to earn one of the girl’s unimpressed glances for himself. “Should I run now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just sit down and drink your coffee. And keep your hands to yourself, if you can manage it? I still need my study partner, thank you.”

Sander grins and obeys, swinging a seat from the next table around to join them, dropping into it happily. He doesn’t place it as close to Robbe’s as he’d like, but Robbe leans into him for a moment anyway before refocusing his attention on his friend.

For the first while, Sander is content to listen and sip his coffee, feeling tiredness begin to creep into his bones. He lets his head loll against his own shoulder, trailing his eyes over Robbe’s profile and drifting into a sort of daydream. He can see the boy’s lips moving, but he has no idea what either of them are saying. They only let out the occasional comment, trading questions and answers and sighs and mutters. Robbe’s eyes are still red and a little puffy, a sign of his lingering exhaustion. He rubs at them absently as he looks down at his book and lets out another sigh, and leaves an eyelash on his cheek.

Sander reaches out and gently swipes it away with his thumb, an entirely mindless action that has Robbe looking at him in surprise before breaking out into a smile. He catches Sander��s hand before Sander can withdraw it completely, laying it on the table next to him. Instead of holding it, Robbe runs his hand along Sander’s sleeve, rubbing the soft seam between his fingers as he continues his work.

For some reason, it makes Sander blush. He’s sure his smile is unbearably happy, and he flicks a glance at Yasmina just to make sure she doesn’t know, only to catch her eye. She’s already smiling at him, and she purses her lips and raises her brows, teasing. Sander pulls a face at her, and she simply shakes her head as her smile widens.

“Can you work on your assignment while you’re waiting for us?” Robbe questions suddenly, drawing Sander’s attention back with a tilt of his head.

Sander glances at his bag, which he’s carried with him all day since he had to go straight to his session from a class. He considers for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. With yesterday being an exception, he usually prefers working at night—and when it’s not cutting into time he could otherwise spend admiring Robbe. “I’ll work on it when I go home,” he promises. Then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re too distracting.”

Robbe’s grin is small, and exasperated, but he yearns towards Sander, leaning across the table. Sander meets him and presses a quick kiss to his lips, then his nose, his cheek, before resolutely sitting back and waving at the textbooks and notes strewn in front of them. Robbe’s grin turns into a pout for half a second before he squeezes Sander’s wrist and focuses again.

Sander sinks back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Robbe’s fingers brushing against his wrist and skimming his hand, but he doesn’t feel quite as settled. There’s a prickle skittering over his neck, and he looks to his side and finds a woman staring at him.

Her nose is screwed, and there’s a vague curl to her lip. The disgust in her expression only heightens as Sander meets her eye and she flicks her gaze down to where Robbe’s hand rests over his. Sander can only stare back, dumbfounded.

When she looks at his face again, he raises his brows, as utterly bored as he can manage, and it only takes a moment for her to look away and get out of her seat across the cafe.

Sander tenses as she gets closer, hand enclosing around Robbe’s entirely, but she merely offers him another look before leaving. He deflates, squeezing Robbe’s fingers. It’s only when Robbe squeezes back that he panics again and quickly looks at the boy. But Robbe is in the middle of asking Yasmina a question, neither of them having noticed a thing.

“I meant to wish you a happy birthday,” Yasmina says, breaking him out of the moment. His mind has fogged over, and it takes him a moment to process the words. By then, she’s already moving on. “How was the party, anyway?”

Robbe and Sander share a look, and Yasmina waits. “Jens hardly said a word to me the whole day,” Robbe tells Sander, but he seems more amused than upset, so Sander allows himself to laugh.

“You didn’t tell him we didn’t actually do anything?”

“I did!” Robbe raises his hands. “He didn’t believe me.”

“What, what did you do to Jens?” Yasmina asks, confused. Then, after a second, “You know what, no, I probably don’t want to know.”

She cringes, and Robbe apologises profusely as Sander bursts into laughter, the weird incident from moments ago already forgotten.

Totally forgotten.

~^~

previous/next

[forever-rogue]

Of Princes & Berries - Part 1

A/N: Yeah, so I have like zero self control, and I’m so deep in my Pedro feels and Oberyn is one of my og loves. In this family we throw canon out the window. Canon? I don’t know her. Anyways, this will probably be like 2-3 parts, y’all will get some sexy times, so hold tight. As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know! xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: slight language

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Popping a few of the fresh, succulent berries into your mouth, you received a tut and playful glare from the chef that was busy preparing various foods for feasts throughout the day. You gave him an innocent smile before putting a finger to your lips.

"Those are for the prince," he reminded you playfully, passing a jug of wine towards you, "those were imported just for him, best not eat them all."

"Oh relax," you gently bumped him with your hip as you loaded everything onto your serving tray, "our esteemed guest won't be missing a few of them. Besides, these are so much mode delicious than the ones we have here. Ours are so lackluster and have no flavor. These are practically bursting with juice and flavor. Maybe the best I’ve ever had!”

"Why do you think he specifically asked for them?" he turned back to the pot he was stirring, giving you a little sigh.

"Because he's the fucking prince of Dorne?" you started to lift the tray up to carry it to the gardens where he was no doubt waiting, "and he's got impeccable taste. Looks, taste, people throwing themselves at him left and right? What a life he leads.”

"Just make sure this gets out to him," he insisted and you gave him a small salute as you headed out of the dim kitchens, “and no detours to eat more berries!”

A small sigh escaped your lips as you stepped into the daylight and felt the sun's rays hit you and instantly warm you up. Everything felt lighter already. Most days in King's Landing were overcast and not this beautiful, at least not during this time of year, and you planned on taking full advantage of it. Perhaps later, when you were done with morning duties, you’d go and set by the sea for a while. It always relaxed something deep within you.

As soon as you spied the prince, staring out into sea, a smile grew on your face. You'd spoken to him a few times here and there, mostly in passing, since his arrival at King's Landing. He was a bright spot, a welcome interruption in our normally monotonous and drool days.

He always spoke to you in a kind manner, taking the time to ask your name, how you were doing, small things. But unlike most people in the court, he seemed genuine in his actions, kind even. He truly listened when you spoke, rather than just blowing you off.

As you approached him, a smile stretched across his handsome features when he realized it was you, causing a small flutter in your heart.

"Good morning, Y/N," he stood and offered you a small bow as you set the tray down on the table in front of him. It was a sign of respect; reverence. Proprietary would have you bowing to him, but he never was one for rules, "how are you on this fair day?"

"Your highness," you beamed at him, pushing a plate of berries at him, "I dare say my day has been much improved. What good luck it was that they sent me to serve you."

"Good fortune, even a wonderful twist of fate," he sat back and watched you intently, "or perhaps I made a simple request."

"A request," you raised an eyebrow as you sneaked a berry, which just made him chuckle at you. Normally, with almost anyone else, you'd never be so bold. But with Oberyn...it felt normal, right even, "you asked for me?"

"You sound surprised," he mused as you leaned against the table, trying to soak up as much sun as possible, "why does it surprise you so?"

"I don't know," you said quietly, "I just never thought I'd make that much of an impression on anyone. I prefer to pass by quietly, generally."

"You've made quite the impression on me, sweet girl," he said softly. You caught your bottom lip in between your teeth as his words fell over you, "I'll take every opportunity I can to look at that lovely face."

"You flatter me," but a content sigh escaped your lips nonetheless, "it is I who am in awe of your beauty, your highness. Surely."

“Now you’re just flattering me, fanning my ego like everyone else,” he waved his hand at you laughed at him, “I didn’t specifically ask for you just because you fall in line like everyone else.”

“I’m sorry then,” you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, “I shall never flatter you again. Nothing but complete honesty.”

“A simple request, no?” he teased, letting his fingers linger near yours. You studied his hands, the few scars that had marred the warm, tan skin. He was really was beautiful, such a sight to behold in your otherwise dreary life, “can I ask you something...perhaps too forward?”

“Yes,” permission was given without hesitation, and worry. Nothing about him worried in you in that sense. Sure, he was the Red Viper, deadly, feared, and brutal in his own way, but you saw past that...he was also kind, gentle, surprisingly soft spot and quick as a whip, “anything.”

“Have you been with a prince before?” 

“I’ve been with many men who call themselves all sort of things,” you shrugged your shoulders as you poured more wine into his goblet, “kings, princes, knights, lords. You name it and I’ve been with one.”

“And have they lived up to your expectations?”

“Hardly,” you grabbed a berry and popped into your mouth, and raising an eyebrow at him, “the only time I’ve experienced true pleasure, it has certainly not been at the hands of a man.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” you sat down across from him, far overstepping any boundaries that remained. But Oberyn was different; he wasn’t like all the other princes and lords who spoke down to you like you were some sort of mere peasant. He treated you like an actual person. That in itself was enough to keep you intrigued; his delicious, warm accent didn’t hurt either. It was like music to your ears, sweet like the wine that flowed freely throughout the court, and much more pleasant than the harsh accents of the King’s Landing that you’d have grown accustomed to.

“You prefer the company of women?”

“I do enjoy the company of women,” you gave him a lazy half smile, “very much so. They’re beautiful creatures, soft, and warm, kind. Unlike men, they know how to touch other women, how to make love and make it a pleasurable experience, not just spend five minutes pounding into you until they’ve found release like a common barnyard animal. And then again, if all else fails, there is also the undeniable pleasure you can give yourself.”

“Very valid points,” he eat a few of the fresh berries, his dark eyes never leaving yours. A smile played on his features as relaxed in his seat, letting the sun warm him, “clearly you haven’t been with the right men.”

“Do you think you’re different?”

“I know I’m different.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “you’re very sure of yourself, my prince. Is your reputation well deserved? Are you as good of a lover as they all say?”

“I am,” a small smirk played on his lips as he crossed his legs, gauging your every reaction closely. He was curious, almost deathly curious to see what you hid under your cool exterior. You acted like you belonged in the court, under the direction of the Lannisters, but he could see through right through you. He knew you weren’t fully invested in your job or life here; hells, anyone that spared you more than a passing glance could see that much, “do you care to find out?”

“I appreciate the forwardness,” you gave him a wicked little smile of your own, “but surely you’ve got better things, and individuals, to shower in your worship. I am a simple servant, not worthy of anyone’s time, something I am made sure never to forget.”

You didn’t wait for a response before standing up and brushing your skirts off as you turned to head back inside. You’d been gone for some time now, surely you’d be attracting some unwanted attention any minute. You’d only been meant to serve the prince, not converse as though you were fast friends, shamelessly flirting in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

Oberyn was a welcome change to the cold atmosphere of the court you were used to. He brought a certain liveliness, warmth, and you swore more sunlight, with him. You could only imagine how wonderful it must be back in Dorne, where he got to spread that same radiance day in and day out. 

“Where are you from?” he asked as you turned to leave. You paused and tensed up, surprised by the sudden question. He didn’t move as he waited for answer; part of you was tempted to pretend that you hadn’t heard him, but you knew better than to defy the prince.

“I’m just a servant, your highness,” you gave him a saccharine smile as you watched his expression falter slightly. It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, “I am from wherever I am situated. My job isn’t to have a personality, it’s to serve others.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he grabbed a particularly plump looking strawberry, took a bite before standing up and striding over to you. His caramel gaze was focused on yours as he gently grabbed your jaw with one hand raised the berry to your lips. It was a question of sorts, to see if you trusted him. Without hesitation, you parted your lips slightly, letting him pop the berry into your mouth. You let the juices coat your mouth before swallowing, your eyes never leaving his. Oberyn traced his thumb delicately along your bottom lip, wiping away the small bit of lingering juice, “where are you from, my sweet girl?”

“Your highness-”

“It’s a simple question,” he let go of your jaw, his face moving into a softer expression as his eyes slowly raked over you. If it had been almost any other man, you would have been disgusted, but there was some gentle about when it was Oberyn. 

“Honeyholt,” the name of your birthplace fell off your lips almost like a whisper, and your eyes darted around to make sure no one had heard. When you worked for the Lannisters, personal matters as such were best left unsaid; they paid you, albeit barely, for your service, not to moan about your previous life. 

“That’s rather far from here,” he mused and you shrugged lightly. You were a a child, a mere young thing the last time you had visited your place of origin. You didn’t remember enough of it to truly miss. King’s Landing had been your home since, “what brings you here, to the harsh life of the court?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you bit your lip, unsure of how far he wanted you to go into detail, “I...was brought here by parents. They needed the money, and I was their only source of commodity. For them it was an easy decision. I haven’t seen them since.”

“I could tell you were not from this forsaken place,” you wondered what he meant, how easily he could tell you were different. You’d spent most of your life trying to blend and not stick out, you’d thought you’d been doing a fairly decent job. Most people didn’t spare you a passing glance, unless they desired something from you.

“And just how is that, if you don’t my asking?”

“You’re much too beautiful to be from here,” he answered and your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. You turned your head, gaze intently trained on the cracked ground of the aging palace as you avoided his inquisitive looks. He reached over and with a few gentle fingers tilted your chin up to face him, “do not shy away from your beauty.”

“I do not,” your voice was but a whisper, “people do not usually show me such...reverence.”

“You have kind eyes,” he carried on, “the sweetest smile, hair fair more beautiful than the Lannister gold they love so much here. Your accent gives you away, it is very slight, but anyone with a keen ear will be able to pick up on it. These barbarians here no doubt have come to ignore it.”

“You...” no one had pointed out that fact that you have a slight lilt to your voice in years. You’d lost the majority of any accent as a child, having come to court as such a young one, and being surrounded by nothing but the gruff voices of the crownlands.

“And if you don’t mind my saying so,” he took a step closer and ran a gentle hand down your body, fingers grazing down your side and sending a shiver down your spine, “a figure that any man or woman would be blessed by the gods to know. Beautiful breasts, a round bottom, lovely thighs, I can only imagine how exquisite everything I’m not seeing is.”

His large hand gave your ass a firm squeeze, and a small sound escaped your lips; a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He was forward, there was no doubt about that, but nothing about it felt...wrong, or unwelcome. You could tell he was making sure every touch and word off of his lips that he was making sure you were okay with it. And you were. Everywhere he went, women, and men, fawned over him, dying for even a bit of affection and attention from the prince. Here you were, having down nothing and you were the object of his desire. 

“You flatter me far more than I deserve, your highness,” your cheeks were on fire as he smiled at you, trying to reassure you that his affection was well deserved.

“Please,” he insisted, bringing a hand back up to your face, “enough with the formalities. Oberyn.”

“Oberyn,” you repeated, enjoying how it felt on your tongue, so sweet and foreign, much more interesting than anyone you encountered through your daily duties.

“What was your name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insisted, but he was not fooled by your attempts at deflection. Instead, he leaned against the carved marble pillar, arms crossing his chest as he analyzed you, “you know my name.”

“My dear, sweet little one,” you sighed lightly at the sound of his voice, so rich and warm, hitting each last nerve within you, “everyone has a name. It means something, even if that of a bastard.”

“What if I don’t want to have a name? What if I want to be no one?” you shrugged as you leaned against the column facing him, “what if I want to hide in the shadows?”

“Y/N,” your name had never sounded more lovely or magical than when it came off of his lips. It sounded pretty, beautiful almost, “it matters. You should be proud of who you are...unless you are some sort of monster, which I already know you are not.”

“You already know my name.”

“And you know exactly what I’m referring to you. I am a prince, sweet one, not a fool.”

“Flowers,” you gave him a soft smile, “just like all bastards of the Reach.”

“But you’re not a bastard,” he pointed out as you nodded, “so why do you claim the name?”

“So I can be no one.”

“You, my sweet girl,” he was by your side again in no time, leaning only mere inches between the two of you. He smelled warm and sweet, likes spices and exotic fruit. Enchanting. Lovely, “are destined to be so much more than no one.”

“I assure you, it doesn’t matter,” you said after a few beats of silence, “my family was once one of the many great houses, just like so many others. But they fell and were broken apart over the years. The remainder of them are common merchants now. It’s easier to claim the name of a bastard than to receive pity for your family’s misfortunes from the likes of Lannisters and Starks and whomever else.”

“I am sure you far outshine them in every way,” he pushed a few locks of your hair out of your face, “your kindness is fair greater.”

“I...I know why you’re here, your hi- Oberyn,” you were scared that you had overstepped your boundaries, but weren’t able to hold back your tongue. He was so forward and open with you, surely he wouldn’t mind if you did the same. 

“And why is that?” his curiosity was piqued as he tried to read your expression.

“Your sister,” you answered softly and he shifted on his feet, shoulders tensing slightly, “I used to work for her...when I was just a child...before. She was the kindest woman I had ever met, gentle and sweet to everyone she ever encountered. Beautiful to no ends and her smile could light up the entire kingdom. Her babes were just as sweet, they would grown up to be the kindest people.”

“You knew Elia?” he was quieter now, and had a soft pang to his voice. He still missed and longed for his sister. Even though she had been gone for some time now, he still mourned for her and her children every day.

“She’s probably the reason I’m still alive,” you admitted, “she took me under her wing when I was brought here. I miss her too. I cannot imagine the sadness and burden it must have placed upon you and I would not dare to imagine. But I know how hard it was on someone like me, just a servant.”

“I think of her every day,” he admitted, “I know I cannot get her back, but it doesn’t dull the pain; Dorne has mourned her loss every day. Instead we must honor the memory of those we’ve lost, instead of letting grief consume us, no?”

“Yes,” you agreed, placing a small smile back on your face. You hadn’t meant to bring the mood down, but you wanted to let him know where you stood, that you were on his side, “I...I blame myself some days. When they attacked...I just ran and hide. I ran and ran and ran until it felt like I couldn’t breathe and then I hid and waited, waited till the smoke had cleared and it was safe to come out. I didn’t even try to help her or her babies. I just wonder if...I had stayed if I could have done something.”

“You were a child,” he could imagine the horrors you had seen, all the thoughts and emotions that had stayed with you throughout the years, “it was not your place to do anything. You protected yourself; it is our instinct to flee and hide, especially as children.”

“I was a coward.”

“You were a child,” he repeated firmly, “you were not a coward and it was not your duty to protect anyone. They should have protected you.”

You weren’t even aware of the fact that a few tears had rolled down your cheeks, but Oberyn was quick to wipe them away. He brushed a thumb over your cheeks, in such a soft and intimate gesture, offering you a small, reassuring smile in return. You put your hand on his wrist and gave it a firm squeeze, “thank you.”

“Y/N,” you almost jumped out of skin at the sound of Cersei’s grating voice. Swiftly wiping the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand, you took a step back from the prince, who seemed completely nonplussed, “surely you’ve got other duties to attend to. I’m sure the prince’s wine and berry need has been satiated for now. We know where to find you if we want more. Go on and apologize to his highness for your folly and distraction.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you let out a shaky breath and gave her a nod. She had her trademark smirk on her face and you wished you could slap it off of her pinched features. She really was cruel down to her core, and you often wondered when the last bits of humanity had left her. You wondered how much she had seen or heard. Hopefully not enough to warrant any sort of punishment. 

Instead, you gave her a nod and small bow before turning back to Oberyn, “I apologize for my indiscretions, your highness. Please let me know if I can be of service at any time.”

“What did I tell you, my sweet girl, call me Oberyn,” he was not bothered by Cersei in the slightest and her jaw dropped in surprise. You couldn’t hide the small smile that crept onto your face, “and do not apologize for a conversation I have initiated. Surely even the lovely Cersei can understand that people enjoy conversation.”

“I...yes,” you returned his warm smile, unable to contain yourself and enjoying the little thrill that defying Cersei had placed in your bones. He reached for your hand and placed a kiss, chaste kiss to the back of it. You knew Cersei must have been dying on the inside at the exchange, frankly, so were you, “thank you, Oberyn.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, making it a point to look directly at Cersei, who was fuming silently. If she had been a kettle, steam would have been exploding out of her ears, “I’ll find you.”

Just before you could turn to return to the kitchen and go about the rest of your daily duties, Oberyn trailed his fingers over your face, letting his gaze linger on your lips, “until later, dear Y/N.”

You turned to go back inside without another word, a bounce in your step at what had just happened. But just before you got inside, you heard him call after you, “I’m glad you enjoyed my berries, sweet girl!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @yourealegendroger  @thesecondlastjedi  @bitemerog  @rogernroll  @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @dinkiplier @starrystarrybabe  @onexlittlespark  @benhardyseyes  @marvelstuck  @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes  @wonderwich  @a-kind-of-magik  @lv7867  @itissnowingandimstuckinside  @dessert-hardy  @rogertaylors-lipgloss  @rogerfxckingtaylor  @queenbbarnes  @drowseoftaylor  @persephonesnebula  @mamaskillerqueen  @theimpossiblehologramtree  @loveandbeloved29 @meddows-rose @onceitbubbles @wonderwoman292 @moondustmemories @spacedustmazzello  @queenlover05  @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @el-lizzie  

Oberyn Taglist: @rosetophighlander​  @someplace-darker​  @hystericalmedicine​  @fioccodineveautunnale​  @huliabitch​

[lilbabycee]

georgia // steve rogers ✈️

↳ summary: after a mission, the reader comes back with some serious injuries and steve doesn't know how to handle it.

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 2.9k

↳ warnings: near death experiences, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, another overused trope

↳ author’s note: more steve for you because i love this man - enjoy! <3

You’re curled on one of the sectionals in the common room, watching the sun peek out from a blanket of clouds not unlike the ones that you’re lying under right now. The sky is swathed in purples and yellows and oranges and you take the time to enjoy the unobstructed view from the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Avengers Compound. You can feel yourself sinking into the grey ocean that is the obnoxiously large sofa beneath you and you think that if you drown then this would be a hell of a way to die.

He isn’t speaking to you. He hasn’t even seen you in weeks, harboring a grudge so strong that you think the weight of it could crush even his super soldier body. Leaning the side of your head on the couch, you find yourself momentarily distracted by the picturesque scene in front of you, but then your eyelids droop and you are snapped back to the reality of your situation. You can’t sleep without him and he knows that. After all of these years you still don’t know exactly what it is - maybe a product of the Red Room, maybe years of murdering innocents coming back to haunt you, but you can’t sleep alone. You were used to it for years, not getting more than two hours of sleep - if you were lucky - most nights. But long gone are the days of sneaking into bed with Natasha, because once Steve came along, you didn’t need it any longer.

Steve. You sigh in frustration, one hand wiggling out from underneath the fluffy white blanket to rub at your eyes and run over your face. Maybe you’re being dramatic. After all, waxing poetic about your boyfriend wasn’t going to bring him back from wherever the fuck he was in France right now. Prior to a few years ago, you only had yourself to look out for and nobody else. You had become accustomed to it, doing whatever was best for you and not having to take anybody else into consideration because, ultimately, you worked alone. But then you joined the Avengers, became a part of a team, and then you realized that you were surrounded by people who valued your life more than you did.

It was jarring to say the least, but on top of that, you met Steve. It was instant, the connection that you two shared. There was always a sense of admiration that went both ways, and you brought each other a sense of normalcy in a world that was otherwise chaotic and often unbelievable. You love him more than you love yourself on most days, you find. But his Captain persona has a tendency to spark arguments with the intensity of a forest fire, igniting the fire within his belly but in contrast, you become cold and withdrawn and defensive.

It doesn’t happen often, but when you do fight, the entire compound knows about it and the team is forced to witness the tension between you two for days, weeks. This was especially painful for both Sam and Natasha, as they are both so close to the both of you and they always feel as if they had to pick sides.

You miss him, you realize, when rare tears prick at your eyelids and you close your eyes to try and ward them off. This time of the year is especially hard for you, having to watch families and children and happiness and beauty all around you. You can’t stand it. It just reminds you of all of the things that you decided that you couldn’t have, things that can’t fit into the lifestyle that you have so carefully perfected over the years. You’d been spiraling over the last couple of days, truly spiraling and the only person who had noticed was Natasha. There was so much of herself that she saw in you, having grown up the same way without love and affection and comfort.

Steve would comfort you. He’d tell you that your feelings are valid and that you have every right to feel sad and that you’re not alone in your emotions. He’d come cuddle you and call you baby or honey or doll and kiss you so hard that the whirring freight train of despair on a circular loop in your head would come to an abrupt stop and you’d forget about all of that, at least for some time. But he isn’t here so you’re stuck the way you are: sad and cold and tired and alone.

Your ears perk up and you can sense somebody standing behind you. It’s not Steve - you would know - and you peel your eyes open slowly, turning around regardless, curious as to who else could be up at 7:20 a.m on a Sunday and not training. Your eyes meet green ones and you exhale a laugh. Those verdant eyes are flooded with concern and what looks like a hint of… guilt?

“‘Tasha,” you greet slowly, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “You’re not training. Everything okay?”

“I feel like that’s what I should be asking you,” her voice is soft and filled with that same concern, unnoticeable to somebody who does not know her as well. “How’re you feeling?”

You bark out a laugh again, wincing when you feel the soreness of your throat and idly rub at the smattering of bruises that mar the skin on your neck. You become acutely aware of the deep cuts on your legs and your bandaged wrist, sighing when you remember how long you’ll have to spend in medbay with Dr. Cho to change all of them.

“I’ve been worse,” you shrug, slowly becoming increasingly aware of how every small movement comes with a sharp sting of pain. You were no super soldier: you still healed like a regular human being, although people often seemed to treat you like you weren’t one as a result of your extensive spy training. It’d been weeks now and you still aren’t fully healed, something that frustrates you to no end as you were just about tired of sitting on your ass. “I’ll get over it eventually, but it’ll just take a couple more weeks. At least, that’s what Dr. Cho said.”

“You know that’s not what I was referring to,” Natasha gives you a deadpan look and you hold her gaze because you’re nothing if not stubborn.

You know who else is stubborn? St-

“-and Steve,” she continues. You snap out of your slight daze and focus on maintaining eye contact with her. “I spoke to him and told him to come speak to you - he doesn’t know how bad you’re doing.”

“You know that after Georgia he doesn’t wanna speak to me,” you’re surprised at how soft and resigned your tone is.

“He doesn’t wanna speak to you or you’re not giving him the chance to?”

“You know perfectly well that that’s not the case, Nat,” you shoot her a murderous glare and she smirks, walking around the sectional to sit next to you, lifting a corner of the blanket to sidle up next to you. You drop your head on her shoulder and close your eyes again, feeling a strong pounding sensation at the front of your head. A groan leaves your lips and you bury your face into the redhead’s shoulder.

“Steve is absolutely one of the most stubborn people I have ever met,” Natasha starts slowly. “But he also has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I’ve ever met. You and I both know that for a fact. You have to put yourself in his shoes. Imagine how he felt when he saw you like that, blood pouring out of your head and laying on a table on the quinjet, helpless. If that was him, you know how panicked you would have been.”

---

three weeks ago...

You’d thought that you’d taken all of them out, running next to Sam and turning the street corner back towards the quinjet. This part of the country had been virtually abandoned, a true ghost town. It had taken several hours to fly from New York just to do some recon, even in the quinjet.

Steve and Natasha were running several feet ahead of you, and they had disappeared out of sight, turning another corner, when it happened. It was supposed to be a quick and simple in-and-out, not meant to take any longer than a few hours, so the relief that it had all gone to plan was almost palpable in the air.

That was until a massive man rushed you with a dagger, obviously desperate and probably out of ammunition. He went for Sam first, a swift and split-second stab to the side - a wound which ended up being non-fatal, thank God - and continued to attack him when you jumped on him from behind. You knew that you were out-muscled - the man stood at over 6’5 and was built like a tree - but you managed to get him away from Sam. You were sure that you could overpower him with purely your agility and skill, but he fought dirty. After tackling you to the ground, he grabbed you by your neck in an attempt to asphyxiate you and damn he was strong. You struggled to pry his hand off of your neck, the intense pain making your vision cloudy and your head spin. Taking advantage of your temporarily incapacitated state, he stabbed you in the shoulder and then repeatedly in the legs, crushing your wrist by putting all of his weight on it. You came to the realization that he was trying to get you to lose as much blood as he possibly could, wanting to drag out the experience. You faintly heard Sam struggling to speak into the comms and hoped that Steve and Natasha were coming back.

The man, with a wicked grin on his face, proceeded to smash your head repeatedly against the concrete sidewalk. The last thing that you distinctly remember was hearing Steve’s heavy boots sprint over to where you were.

You were told that after that, Natasha took care of your attacker while Steve carried you back to the quinjet in a panic. Nat was able to help Sam limp there, surprisingly it really was more of a flesh wound and hit no vital organs. You had been in a medically induced coma for four days after your heart had stopped because of the gallons of blood that you had lost. They tried to restart your heart several times and when they finally succeeded, they wanted to make sure that you were healing in the way that you were supposed to be. When you woke up to Steve sleeping, slouched in a hospital chair beside your bed with your hand gripped tightly in his, you gave him a weak squeeze to wake up. He jumped up and immediately started crying while calling for the medical staff.

After you were left alone, Steve walks back in with a far sterner expression on his face than when he first came in. You try for a weak smile, but you are severely concussed and struggle to form coherent sentences so you are not in the mood to fight with your boyfriend. But it looks like he is in the mood to fight with you.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he begins, standing at the head of your hospital bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

You roll your eyes and heave a sigh. “Steve, can we do this another time? I’m really not feeling up to-”

“No, Y/N,” he barks, effectively silencing you. His Captain voice has made an appearance and your frustrations start to arise. You know that this won’t be a quick scolding. “We’re a team. And you have to make decisions that are best for the team. What you did was unnecessarily put yourself at risk when Natasha and I were readily available to help you. Instead of communicating with us, you took on the task by yourself and look where that’s gotten you. I know that it’ll take a while for you to recover from these injuries but I don’t want you coming on missions for another month after your recovery. It’s-”

“Captain Rogers,” you interrupt him, your defensive walls up and your tone frosty. “With all due respect, sir, I did what I thought was best at that moment. I was protecting Sam. I don’t know what taking me off more missions will do for the team, or me, for that matter. I was trying to protect Sam from death-”

“You died, Y/N!” he shouts at you, voice cracking slightly, and your mouth snaps shut. “You died and I saw you die. Forgive me if I don’t want that to happen again.”

He clenches his jaw and his eyes dart around, a sign that he’s trying to avoid tearing up. Your expression has softened considerably and as you open your mouth to speak, he pins you with a glare so fierce that only air comes out.

“You’re off the missions. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

That’s all he says before swiftly turning on his heel and slamming the door behind his retreating figure.

---

Starting to speak, you look at Natasha’s side profile as she stares directly ahead of her: “I know. But he’s acting like Sam wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t helped him. It’s just that I’ve gotten over this. And I’m in pain, Nat. I’m tired. I’m exhausted and my throat hurts and I feel so weak but he’s not here.”

At the end of the sentence, your voice cracks and Natasha’s hand comes up to rub comfortingly at your back. Your body is too busy shaking with sobs for you to realize that Steve just walked in. He sees Nat and smiles at her before his eyes hone in on your fragile - a word that he’s never used to describe you before - body. His smile drops abruptly and he rushes to your side, his stubbornness be damned. Steve had no idea just how badly this had been affecting you, because he was too concerned with waiting for you to come and apologize to him.

“Baby,” he coos softly, gently caressing your cheek. Your head lifts and his heart sinks when he sees your bloodshot eyes and dark bags, coupled with your shaky hands and severe bruising. He hasn’t even seen you in the weeks since the hospital - he took a mission in France with Bucky almost immediately after - and he feels like crying himself when he sees how much the lack of communication has broken you. He’s always considered you the strongest person he knows, untouchable and tenacious. But this, this. It breaks his heart. “Hi, baby.”

You only sob harder as Natasha shoots him a look and stands up, presumably heading towards the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. Steve takes her place after mouthing a thank you - to which she responds with an eye roll - and takes care to wrap his strong arms around you without pressing on any of the more severe bruises.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I was bein’ hard-headed and selfish and I didn’t even think about how hard my best girl has it. But you shoulda seen yourself, babydoll. I thought I had died right along with you on that table…”

Fuck it, you think as you throw your arms around his neck. Sharp pain shoots through both of your arms but you don’t give a fuck because your Stevie’s here and he’s apologizing (?!!) and he’s so warm.

“Stevie,” you sniff, almost childlike in your need for affection. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help Sam and I thought I could take him.”

He chuckles, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes serenely as his lips linger and he starts caressing the side of your bruised neck with his thumb.

“That’s okay, doll,” he smiles. “You probably coulda taken him and I know it was a tough situation. I just want my baby to feel better. I’m sorry I haven’t been here; I needed to clear my head because I was just so damn scared. My worst fear is losin’ you and having that realized, living through that… I couldn’t bear it. But I’m here now and we can make sure that you rest up. You been sleepin’, sweetheart?”

You shake your head - too fast because the pounding in your head intensifies and you groan - and lean up to press a kiss on his cheek. His cheeks warm and you smile fondly at him, pleased that even after all this time you have an effect on your man.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that, won’t we honey?” he smirks as he easily lifts you up with your arms wound around his neck. He starts striding towards your shared quarters and lays you in the bed. “Cold, baby?”

You nod and make grabby hands at him, feeling especially needy - a side that you could never show to the rest of the Avengers because they would bully you for the rest of your life. He only laughs, whipping off his shirt and joining you in bed.

“Comfortable?” he asks, looking down at you. You snuggle up to his chest - fuck your broken wrist and crushed windpipe - and feel yourself drifting already. You come to realize that this is where you belong - wherever your super soldier is, whatever he does, you know that you’ll love him to the ends of the earth…

...or at least all the way to Georgia.

tagged: @literaturefeen​

[mirrinbelde-shitposts]

hey girl💐i’d luv a chance to guess ur Mercury sign.. my guess is Capricorn Mercury, ur writings are very organized n straight to the point, smart too. Whether or not I’m right, i wish u a nice day/nite👑

this my chart;) thank u, take care!

Hey! You got it right, congratulations! Have a good day too ^^

Welcome to your reading. Please remember to send feedback.

First impressions when looking at your chart: sea-saw chart shape; MC-IC axis at anaretic degree

SUN IN TAURUS

Your Sun sign is Taurus. You embody the Venusian energy well: you enjoy the finer things in life. This sign is best known for being stubborn; with this amount of Taurus energy, I’m sure you’re quite stubborn, which is a more negative way of saying determined. When you get an idea in your head, you won’t rest until you achieve it. You’re quite friendly and probably enjoy gossip. You’re reliable and hardworking. Being a fixed sign, I’d say you’re most likely not great at dealing with change; you prefer things staying the same. Comfort is important to you, be it literally or figuratively. You are very attached to your earthly possessions; furthermore, I’d say you have a bit of a radical mindset when it comes to money: you’re either too frugal or you spend too much money. Beware of possessiveness and laziness.

SUN IN THE 4TH HOUSE

This placement is somewhat similar to Cancer Sun. I'd say family life is very important to you, as is your home, emotional security and harmony. In order to grow as a person, you should take your time cultivating your positive traits. You may struggle to understand who you really are: the answer is inside, not outside. At the same time, there may be a tendency to emulate behaviours of those closest to you, which may contribute to the aforementioned lack of self-knowledge. Focus on yourself; practice mindfulness. There may also be some sort of conflict with your father or another father figure. Perhaps this person was overly dominating toward you, which may hinder your journey to self-discovery. You may, in time, develop those same characteristics. However, this placement may start to manifest more strongly later in life.

MOON IN TAURUS

The Moon is exalted in Taurus. Placed here, the Moon is quite happy, for this sign goes nicely with its characteristics: family-oriented, home, comfort, calm, familiar things, loving and caring. As with Taurus Sun, you may place a big importance on material things. With the Moon, however, it’s a bit different: you may develop an emotional attachment to some belongings of yours, perhaps because they provide you security. You’re the kind of person to stay home and enjoy a hearty meal, cuddle in front of the fireplace and enjoy sleeping in a comfy bed. You’re quite calm and caring; however, expressing your emotions may not be your strong suit. You should work on your deep attachment issues because they can destroy you if the object of that attachment abandons you.

MOON IN THE 4TH HOUSE

Once again, the Moon is quite happy here, which is the house it rules. This placement ensures that you have a strong connection to your roots: namely, family and home life; it could also be interpreted as your geographic location. Unlike the Sun, 4H Moon wants to feel like a part of the family structure. Your home is probably your refuge when things get difficult. You want harmony and safety in your everyday life. You are probably sensitive and caring and these traits make you someone appreciated both at home and in the workplace. Also, this is a good placement for parents. However, you may lack objectivity, often letting your feelings influence your opinions. You feel deeply.

MERCURY IN GEMINI

This is one of the two signs ruled by Mercury. Gemini embodies the more chatty, talkative side of Mercury. You are curious, intelligent and love to possess and acquire knowledge of every kind. You are good at both writing and speaking; however, speaking is probably the thing for which you are known. Gemini is known as the sign that never shuts up; this is particularly true in your case, with Mercury in this sign. However, since your mind is always racing, you may lack an attention span, always going from one thing to the other. Staying committed to tasks and goals may be a problem for you because you get tired of things quickly. You are good with words and love to socialize. Emotions may be rationalized.

MERCURY IN THE 5TH HOUSE

This is a great placement for artists, especially those whose fields are ruled by Mercury, such as writers. It allows you to pour all your creativity and originality into your craft. Your many ideas are expressed in fun ways and your show a jovial way of seeing things. You may enjoy puzzles or other activities that involve strategy, as well as sports (yes, because sports also require tactics). Basketball, for example, would be a good sport for someone with this placement. Additionally, it's a good Mercury position for someone who works with kids or teenagers, as well as parents. You are creative and fun and it shows.

VENUS IN GEMINI

As is the case of Air Venus, Gemini Venus requires a partner that will spend hours with them talking about anything. You seek a partner that is intelligent and educated and who can hold a conversation. If the other person cannot keep up with you intellectually, it will probably be a huge turn-off. You want someone who is as smart as you, someone who makes you laugh and accepts your quirky nature. However, it may be difficult to find such a partner. You are not great at expressing your emotions, so connecting head and heart is a way to help this. Also, you tend to not show you truly think and you're always joking, so people probably wonder about how you actually feel about them. You are probably quite indecisive when it comes to love and relationships.

VENUS IN THE 6TH HOUSE

Here, Venus gives great importance to things associated with Virgo: routine, health, job. It is important for you to have your routine and to plan things. Once you acquire a habit, it is difficult to let go of it ("Old habits die hard."). Similarly, it is important that you incorporate activities with your partner in your daily schedule. Funnily enough, it is routine that makes you miss things you no longer have: for example, if you lose a friend, you may miss them more because you used to talk every day. You enjoy working on projects that make you feel like you're doing something meaningful; your chosen profession must fulfil you. You want a harmonious workplace that makes you feel happy to work. Also, you have an eye for detail. There can be a need to obsess about your health, as well as your loved ones'.

MARS IN GEMINI

Gemini Mars, to me, indicates that your battlefield is words. Your “attack” is how you think, connect the dots and put your opinions into words. This placement makes me think that you have vast knowledge in almost everything and you’re willing to debate with anyone about anything. I’d say you’re also good at multitasking and bad at routines. You could do with a bit more determination; Gemini is a sign known for its indecisiveness, so you may struggle with carrying out your thoughts and ideas. You have many different interests and can change them up quite a lot, sort of similar to Gemini Mercury. You would do well to be a little more committed to your interests and ambitions.

MARS IN THE 6TH HOUSE

The planet of action has its joy in this house, according to the principles of Hellenistic Astrology. Mars strongly wants to take action, but the 6th house forces it to be more methodical and less impulsive. Your workplace may become your figurative battlefield. You need to be active in everyday life, but you also want to feel that what you're doing is meaningful and makes you feel useful. Mars here acts strongly and concretely in areas of life that are related to work, mainly career, as I mentioned. This seems to be a good position for a leader in the workplace. Similar to Venus, 6H Mars may worry a lot about the body. A great deal of your energy may be directed into taking care of it, perhaps going to the gym is an activity you enjoy.

JUPITER IN CANCER

Jupiter is exalted in this sign. The planet of expansion and luck finds in Cancer a good means of expressing its energy, for the sign is a sensitive one. Whilst Cancer is already sweet and caring, Jupiter expands these traits even more. You are generally a calm person, who empathizes with people's feelings and has a need to both listen and talk to others. However, you can become very fierce when someone messes with those you love. You probably have a very motherly side to you that draws people in. Additionally, I have said that Cancer is the most intuitive sign: Jupiter in Cancer only makes this even more so. Listen to your intuition, which is quite accurate; learn to trust your gut feelings (for example, you guessed my Capricorn sign correctly :D).

JUPITER IN THE 7TH HOUSE

This placement is a highly auspicious one for relationships and partnerships of any kind. It elevates even more Cancer Jupiter because it allows you to fully connect with people on a deep level. You possess the ability to communicate with others and understand their feelings, which makes you someone quite great around which to be. It also favours the expansion of knowledge. All of this applies to romantic relationships as well. You may get into them easily and seem to usually enter the right ones (Jupiter grants you luck). You are quite a caring, sweet partner and bring a very good, calm energy to your relationships. However, this can be a paradoxical placement: on one side, you want that security with your partner and want them to be dedicated to you; on the other, you need your freedom. Balancing these two can be quite tricky, so your partner must understand both of these sides of you.

SATURN IN GEMINI

Saturn here may cause you to be unsure about the themes of Gemini: communication, thinking and expressing yourself. This can cause you to be afraid to speak in public or to withhold voicing your true opinions. You may delve into the study of every area of life or, on the contrary, avoid it at all costs. You probably ponder your words before you speak them. You may have a tendency to be introverted due to this. In a past life, you may have misused your voice, so your purpose in this life is to learn the power of your words. Also, you probably struggle with order, discipline and setting realistic goals. Saturns wants you to learn how to deal with these topics in this lifetime. You may have a lack of self-esteem due to the problems aforementioned. It is important that you work on these blockages.

SATURN IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You can feel responsible for other people, especially your coworkers, even if you struggle getting along with them. There’s a need to serve, to be of use to others; you may find it hard to relax. You are quite organized, so you’d do well to make use of it. You could also be the type to help others in the way to their goals. However, you should also understand that, sometimes, you should just let go and go with the flow. Not everything in life is about hard work, routines or responsibilities. Find something that excites you; try some meditation. There may also be some health issues, perhaps you had them in your childhood. ⬛

[alienisticxo]

X Angel - Chapter 3

Elon Musk x Reader

{Authors Note} I am considering taking requests, so if you have anything Elon-y that you’d like me to write, feel free to send them in my asks <3

I hope you continue to enjoy! You can also find this on AO3 and Wattpad. xo

Warnings: None

My security team immediately took one step closer to me as though this were some sort of communicated threat. But a strikingly cool grin crossed Elon’s lips— one that told he clearly didn’t care what anyone else thought about the matter.

“You can’t try the merchandise before you buy, sorry,” Jett retorted with no actual indication of being sorry.

“That’s not it,” he assured with a light laugh. “I’d like to see her without being under so much pressure.”

I eyed Elon then, a metallic eyebrow arched. While I was very much everyone’s golden child, cash cow, etc., no one had ever made an attempt at considering my own feelings in any situation. I was only to do as I was told. My thoughts or emotions were the least of everyone and anyone’s concerns, even though I had very much capitalized off of their fear of my denying their requests. At the end of the day, I was just another toy to play with, and that had all become very clear, very quickly. Coming to terms with the fact that they seemed to have fooled me more than I thought I was fooling them was going to be another story altogether. Still, to hear Elon say something like that surprised me-- almost making me as skeptical as everyone else suddenly was. What would the real reason be? On another hand, I was in disbelief that he might also be as kind as I hoped he would be on top of it all.

“Mr. Musk,” began one of the men who remained at the table nervously, “Please don’t make this difficult.”

They were clearly afraid of saying the wrong thing to him, walking on eggshells so to speak. To keep from risking the successful purchase of myself, however, they must’ve felt they had to confront him regardless of their fear.

“I’m not making anything difficult,” he said plainly, beginning to approach me then. “These beings are far more intelligent than we are, clearly capable of mimicking human emotion. You’re all poking and prodding her and she’s programmed quite authentically. She looks…” he paused, his hand lightly motioning toward me as he kept a polite distance. “Well, she looks nervous.”

I immediately checked my facial expression and posture, loosening up the best I could without giving away that he was correct. He had been watching me the entire time without saying a word, studying me to a tee without catching anyone’s attention. So much so, even I hadn’t noticed him standing in the corner until he made his presence known. I should’ve expected he'd been doing so the moment my eyes landed on him, but I had been so preoccupied in my own thoughts about the entire ordeal. Now I still couldn’t shake the shock of his way of treating me… like a person.

The man sighed through his nostrils, clearly exasperated at the request. But the other men paused and exchanged thoughtful glances, seeming to begin to understand where Elon was coming from.

“Hm… I suppose you’re right,” one said, causing the original man to clench his jaw.

“No dice,” said Jett flatly.

The man who’d examined me’s eyes seemed to light up then, and he turned to Jett, suddenly yearning to oblige Elon. I decided it was because of Jett’s insistence on not allowing it, so he himself wouldn’t appear to be the ‘bad guy.’ However, the others seemed genuinely curious themselves once he’d mentioned the notion.

“Perhaps if not alone with one of us, we can put her behind a glass of some sort,” one spoke up convincingly. “See how she acts without any outside influence whatsoever. Either way, it’s very important. We can’t expect someone to be with her twenty-four-seven on Earth to make sure she's still the bright and shining star we all know and love. It would be impossible.”

Elon breathed a laugh then, shaking his head as he reached a hand into his jacket, revealing a holographic card only seconds later.

Jett’s eyes shone like crystals in the sun the moment they set on the translucent object, his attention quickly caught and his interest extremely piqued. He pretended to mull over Elon’s offer with a hum.

“I guess we could cut a deal, Musk,” he said, feigning contemplation. “How much we talkin’?”

How fast his voice grew gravely and intrigued again. I wondered how much he was making off of my purchase as I stood like a statue, only able to watch what was happening from what felt like miles away. I wasn’t sure of his intentions, but I felt compelled to allow him the request. I hoped it was for something important. Maybe even something that could help me get out of the situation I now found myself in. At the very least, I just wanted the opportunity that so many dreamt of- to have time with him, no matter what it was about.

“However much you’d like,” was all he said. “But I’d like to see her for myself in a more natural situation— a one on one setting.”

I bit my tongue before gathering enough courage to speak confidently in a room full of intimidating people, unsure of whether or not my tactics would still work.

Here goes.

“There’s no need for that. Let Mr. Musk do as he wants, Jett,” I demanded, holding my hand out in a gesture to push the card Elon held down. “Or I walk from Astra before you have a chance to sign me away at all.”

I didn’t mean to backhandedly mention their signing me away, but I couldn’t help it. It must’ve worked in my favor, as Jett’s nostrils flared, and if looks could kill, I wouldn’t have needed to walk. I would’ve dropped dead right there. Cybernetic stars didn’t demand much of anything, ever. But I certainly had a tendency to threaten to cut all functions when I didn’t get what I was after, and Astra needed me far too much.

Or at least, they did.

Who were they going to replace me with?

But I digress…

My human requests and reactions were a major part of what made me so lifelike to everyone I deal with. It was unheard of among the others and they just weren’t sure if I was bluffing or not. That was what made me the only one like me. The special one, the star I was. It was what purchased my penthouse with the idyllic view and each one of my Tesla’s; what kept me living in the lap of luxury and able to help those I needed to help. Though of course, I always had to play my cards right, using my demands only in opportune moments. That was what kept me afloat with Astra as well.

A.I. was just tricky that way, and while no one knew for sure, Jett knew better with me. I was tempted to use this strategy in the situation I was dealing with now. But I knew better, too. No one would want me if I opposed it altogether, and I’d be left to the crime ridden outskirts like a few before me had been, too. It was obvious I was no longer an asset to the label.

Jett pushed past Elon then, clearly fuming over my interference with his under-the-table payment.

“Five minutes,” was all Jett said as he approached the doors to leave the room, not turning back to look at anyone.  

There was a brief smirk on Elon’s lips before he nodded for the other men to follow Jett, who quite willingly did so, and before too long, I was alone with the only man I’d ever admired.

I knew I was supposed to be more at ease with the sudden lack of eyes prying into my entirety, but my nerves continued to get the better of me. How could they not when standing next to someone as awe inspiring as Elon Musk? Maybe to any other person who didn’t care, it would’ve been easy, a relief. But I found myself trying my best to keep my composure even though I’d pushed for the request.

Not sure what I was expecting, I remained silent, my metallic fingernails clicking against each other in front of me. I felt like a child who was waiting for punishment. But the silence wasn’t as awkward as I was waiting for it to become. That was clearly his doing and not mine, as he was cool as ever. I waited for him to speak first, my voice too caught in my throat, anyway.

He turned towards the beautiful view before us, looking out over it into the night sky. The bright lights cast the same glow they had when he stood beside the window, but slightly dimmer, adding a sultry shadow to his features that I damned myself for noticing. He exhaled audibly, but not dramatically, eyes scanning over the skyline.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” He asked.

Small talk. Odd.

“Yeah,” I responded quietly. “One of the reasons I wa-“

I caught myself, noticing his green eyes glance in my direction without facing towards me completely. Pausing a moment to feign an error, I started speaking again, facing out over the view myself, then. “One of the reasons I love it here so much.”

He either suspected it was an error, or wasn’t concerned as he continued the conversation with no reservations.

“Earth isn’t so terrible,” he said. “Sure, we’ve fucked it up pretty badly, but it could be worse.”

I smiled. He was absolutely correct.

“Aren’t you headed for Mars, anyway?” I piped up next, unable to conceal my admiration.

“You’ve heard about that, huh?” He asked, turning to face me then.

I discreetly stiffened up again as he studied my features, the slightest furrow in his brow. I could tell he was trying to figure me out; figure out who could’ve pieced me together. What kind of rival company he might be up against without even knowing it. A.I. lifeforms were lifelike, damn near realistic, but it hadn’t advanced to the point I exhibited yet. Most people didn’t think twice, just saw how phenomenal I was— the walking, talking, cybernetic pop star that everyone wanted to be just like.

Elon was far, far more intelligent than that.

“You’re synonymous with space travel,” I responded a bit flatly, as though I was simply pulling the information from a database in my mind instead of revealing I just knew about him. “Mars was your first target. NASA pushed for X, and here you are now.”

He lifted a brow, an almost amused expression on his features as he let me speak.

“Why are you here? Buying a pop star hardly seems like your forte,” I continued, not wanting to sound as confused and even a little hurt at the notion as I was.

His response was a chuckle. He was certainly amused now.

“You’ve got a point there. I’m here to figure you out, Miss {Y/L/N},” he said, wobbling his head to one side a bit. “You’ve been all the talk back on Earth. The latest and greatest A.I. creation. You’re scaring people, to be quite frank, and I’m interested in.. picking your brain, so to speak.”

My face fell. Something about that gave me an uneasy feeling. I hadn’t exactly put together that I was feared while everyone I encountered adored me for all that I was. Or.. All they thought I was. The last thing I wanted was to scare people-- It wasn’t even the last thing, it wasn’t a thing I wanted at all. I knew I was something of a puppet to pertain to the masses in order to get messages across, but being completely frightening wasn’t on my to-do list.

“Scaring people?” was all I could manage, the slightest twinge of hurt in my voice.

“You move, speak, act and react as though you are a human being. No company, and certainly no one, has been able to package all of this kind of complex engineering into a real, walking, talking cybernetic human form. At least, not without it looking completely fake. Other cybernetic celebrities, while convincing enough to the untrained eye, haven’t been able to hold a candle to your authenticity,” his expression was serious as he held my gaze. “You must realize the kind of trouble that could put humanity into.”

He paused, thinking for a moment.

“More trouble than we’re already in,” he finished then.

All at once, I was lost for words. What I had expected to be making an impact in a monetary way was only frightening people in other places. I wondered if Xian’s felt the same way, or if they just turned a blind eye to the fact that I was the way I was. Perhaps they felt as though Planet X had simply had it all under control with the advanced technology they were known for. I had questions, of course. Who wouldn’t? But I had to keep my own front up. I responded the only way I knew how.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m just here to be a star,” I forced a smile.

He breathed another quiet laugh then, his eyes dropping before looking back out at the view for a moment. He picked up on my programming side holding my guard up at the question. “Of course you are,” he said quietly.

I suddenly felt crushed. I didn’t want him to dislike me, or feel as though I was a threat to mankind or anyone who may have crossed my path. I also didn’t want him to feel as though I were nothing more than another dumb pop star that was so well-known around celebrity culture. A million things ran through my mind at once, but I couldn’t voice any of them. I was caught between what I should say and what would happen if I did. While I didn’t know him from anyone, I felt quite obligated to be honest with him. It seemed as though so far, while only a few sentences in, he had been nothing but honest with me. There was something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on; something I couldn’t get past. The desire to let him in was overwhelming, but I pushed it away, chalking it up to the grave admiration I felt for him and nothing more. I didn’t know him, after all.

His hands were in his pockets, but after a few more seconds of silence hanging between us, his eyes met mine again before averting to my neck. Looking as though he wanted to say something, I studied him with a fervent curiosity. He lifted a finger quickly then with an inhale, softly gesturing towards my hair.

“May I?” He asked gently.

I knew then what he was after. He wanted to check for an indication of a company himself, knowing where they usually hide their numbers and letters in etching rather than stamping it on in ink. I wondered if that was the only reason he wanted to get me alone in the first place, and tried not to feel the faint pang of hurt in my chest.

While the idea was clever, he wouldn’t find what he was looking for, and I knew this all too well. Still, playing ball as I knew I had to, I obliged.

“Of course,” I nodded once, tilting my head a bit to allow him more access to the area he was to begin searching.

With careful hands, he moved my hair, his fingers gliding under my ear and to the nape of my neck, delicately feeling for any indication of an etching. I could hear his hand brush against the cold metal of my body, and instead of the previous hurt, a sudden, surprising pang of longing struck me as I deeply wished I could feel the warmth of his fingers.

My brow furrowed just slightly while I sat with the unforgivable thought as he continued his hunt. His cologne seemed to emanate around me, and the scent alone relaxed me without my noticing at first. There was something kind about his hesitance, his desire to treat me as not something that simply made people made money, but someone, with feelings and opinions. The notion was something I’d have to get used to, but not unwelcome in the least. I couldn’t help but notice he was certainly attractive, even more so up close than I’d casually noticed in photos, and his consideration for me alone spoke volumes— asking my permission, the gentle touch he used when I allowed it; it was admirable in and of itself. Cybernetic beings were seldom cared for in such a way. He seemed to treat me as an equal.

“Hm,” he finally contemplated, taking me back out of my thoughts once more. “I don’t feel anything,” he thought aloud.

“Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t just create myself,” I joked, my voice airy as I tried to keep the mood light.

But he wasn’t laughing as he carefully removed his hand and let my {H/C} hair fall back into place. I’m fact, his countenance read quite grave as our eyes met once more.

“It’s troubling,” was all he said as the doors swung back open, slightly startling us both.

[aktiophis]

Timing by the Stars: Days, Hours, and The Moon

This will be the first in a little miniseries of posts on astrological timing, specifically as it concerns the making of Talismans, but the principle could equally be applied to a one off ritual. Originally, I was just going to write one post but it got quite unwieldy to talk about so many different concepts all at once, so instead I’m starting at the beginning. I’ll get into more complicated things whenever I feel like writing them frankly, and I’ll probably edit this post with links when I do. (This part alone is long enough Jesus Christ)

It can be useful to think of the election you choose for a Talisman to be its time of birth. Someone born with a very dignified Venus will most often have an easier time doing Venusian things, to be very, very broad with the astrology. But the gist is; planet is more better=person is more good at planet things. Naturally, then, a Venus Talisman made when Venus was very strong and well placed will also be very good at Venus things, and thus good at whatever it’s purpose is. This is the basis of talismanic magic using astrology.

First, though, I’m going to talk about the barebones of astrological Talisman timing, namely the days and hours. I’m including the moon also because it’s the other key consideration for astrological magic generally.

The Days and Hours

[Credit: Digital Ambler]

It isn’t a coincidence that the planets in Romance languages are named after the planets. Even in English (and I would assume other Germanic languages although I’ve never checked, but if they don’t I’d be very surprised), the Gods for each day line up with their Greco-Roman approximate counterparts. As such, each day has an affinity for its namesake planet. That’s why so many spells call for a Friday, and so many curses for a Tuesday or Saturday. At the very most basic level of astrological timing, with no knowledge of anything else, this is how you would time a spell or Talisman, probably at some auspicious time like dawn.

Something not as well known by non-occultists is the concept of planetary hours. Unlike civil hours, these aren’t regular in length and have nothing at all to do with what time it says on the clock for the most part. Planetary hours are divided into two sections. Here are some points to get you the gist before we continue:

The planetary day starts at Dawn, so even if it’s 2:00am on Tuesday, you are in a planetary hour of Monday

The first hour of the day always corresponds to the planet the day is named after, in our example, at Dawn on Tuesday the first hour is Mars

There are 12 day hours, and 12 night hours. The day hours begin at sunrise and end at sunset, while the night hours begin at sunset and end at the sunset of the next day.

Each day hour is exactly 1/12 of the time from sunrise to sunset, and the equivalent for night hours.

The hours cycle in the Chaldean order, which is ascending mean speed:Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus, Mercury, the Moon

 As you can see, there isn’t much the same between civic hours and the planetary hours. You can calculate these by hand, but if you’re like me and use them a lot there’s no need to bother because there are dozens of apps. For those curious, the Placidus house system can also be used to find the planetary hour, as each half of a house corresponds to a planetary hour. I deeply dislike using Placidus for natal astrology but for that reason I sometimes use it to find the planetary hours (not the houses, though).

These two things are the most basic considerations for Talisman making. For a Solar talisman, the hour of the sun on Sunday. Bam. Specifically, the first hour is often considered the best because it coincides with dawn/sunrise, i.e. the daily birth of the sun and illumination of the world with spiritual light etc. but any of the correct planetary hours will do the trick.

One thing to note is when I start getting into more complicated electional stuff, you might find a great election that isn’t in the right day or hour. By no means disqualify it because the day doesn’t fit. If Mercury is at the most powerful it will be for the next few months after but it’s a Friday and the hour of Mercury doesn’t fall within this very specific timeframe (Like say it’s Cazimi in Gemini, in its bounds conjunct the midheaven, or something, Idk), do it anyway honestly. You’ll never get everything to be just as you want it, and frankly days and hours come every day/week, and some things only happen once every 20 years.

The Moon

[credit: Honestly no idea]

That’s right, it’s not just for Wiccans! The state of the moon has been a big consideration for ceremonial magic, folk magic, you name it, for a long ass time. Even in astrological Talismans not concerning the moon, as the planet associated not only with magic but also with collecting and reflecting the ‘astral light’ onto the Earth, the condition of the moon is an important consideration.

Anyone who has read a 101 book on magic will have seen that “waxing to increase something, waning to decrease” thing, and that’s the gist honestly. For Talismans though, you want a waxing or full moon. The talisman might be protection against evil, but f you did it when the moon was a waning crescent it wouldn’t be the evil decreasing so much as the protective Talisman. I’m not going to discourage people from doing stuff in a waning moon, I do all the time, just be aware it’s not necessarily the best, especially in the case of Talismans and astrological magic. To be quite frank I feel like this can sometimes be overlooked as a factor, but if it’s an important thing it can wait until the moon is growing

Now, with just that and the days/hours you’re honestly pretty much set, but I’m writing this to eventually get onto more complicated things so there are some more bases I’d like covered.

The Lunar mansions are the obvious thing to talk about next. The Zodiac Wheel of 12 signs is intrinsically a solar schema for astrology. The beginning of the Zodiac at 0 Aries is at the moment of the Spring Equinox, when the days are equal to the nights. All of the cardinal signs, in fact, are so called because the next season of the year begins as the Sun enters them. There is, however, a similar system for the moon, of 28 mansions, each of just under 13 degrees, starting also with Aries. The Picatrix is what I’d direct you to if you want to read more about them specifically, especially since I haven’t used them in very much in practice.

The mansions were widely used in Arabic astrology, apparently quite often in electional astrology generally, not restricted to magic (as a side note, by all means study in the hour of mercury and treat-yo-self in the hour of Venus, even without magic. Tune into the rhythm). One mansion might be good for travel but could also cause strife between friends, while another might bring ill health but be good for buying livestock, that type of deal. It’s always worth checking if the time you have in mind for a Talisman happens with the moon in a favourable mansion for that purpose.

I will touch on this passingly because it really belongs in my next post, but if the moon is in a hard aspect with Saturn or Mars that can also be a bad omen for an election, although if the moon has good aspects or is particularly strong otherwise I would personally still do the thing because otherwise I would probably only do astrological magic once a year waiting for the perfect time.

Void of Course

This is something that frankly puzzles me to no end because half the resources I could find when I first looked into it clearly were using the phrase without having a clue what they meant, and the other half gave me a number of different definitions. I personally use the definition as given by the medieval astrology guide, whose site I’ll link at the end, because it makes the most sense to me.

All definitions of a Void Moon stem from the same basic idea, which is that the Moon will not perfect an aspect to another planet any time soon, sort of as if the moon is running in the dark on its own. The most common modern definition says the moon is void if it doesn’t perfect an aspect before leaving the sign it’s in, which basically means it happens every couple of days like Clockwork. I use a different definition (when I even remember to consider it) that is, the moon is not within orb of perfecting an aspect, without consideration as to the sign. So, by my definition, if the moon was leaving a sextile aspect with Saturn at say, 29 Aries, and was applying to a trine with Venus, even if it didn’t make a perfect trine before entering Taurus, the moon wouldn’t be void of course, because it was still in an applying aspect at the time. More broadly, I only consider a moon Void when it isn’t applying to an aspect (look into moiety for more on what I mean as far for more details on application). I encourage you to come to your own conclusions about this though, so don’t take my word for it.

[credit: Skyscript.co.uk]

A Void moon is generally bad for magic because to be literal the moon isn’t really doing anything much, at least as far as aspects go. That being said it isn’t something I look at unless I’m planning an important thing and I wouldn’t stress about it unless you were doing an important thing too. To be frank I often forget to even check what the moon is doing even for some slightly more important stuff.

And that is about it or what I wanted to cover, I think. The next post will probably be about Essential and Accidental Dignity, which was really what I wanted to write about in the first place, but here we are.

TL:DR

Time for the day of the planet

Time for the hour of the planet

Time for a waxing Moon

Avoid the Void moon

Some Useful Links/Sources (Some I didn’t even reference but they’re still good so I’m including them)

The Picatrix

www.sykscript.co.uk

www.Medievalastrologyguide.com

Secreti Geomantici (Great little geomancy book, also has useful things on timing. Thanks @nightjasmine for reminding me about it)

Hellenistic Astrology: The Study of Fate and Fortune, Chris Brennan (not about magic but this is just a great book on astrology overall, especially Hellenistic)

www.Rennaissanceastrology.com (I have issues with some of Warnock’s work, but his information is accurate and his site is great for these purposes)

 (Looking back I suppose I could’ve just made a post of resources but I’m in too deep now).