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ktheist · 5 years ago

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pretty girls don’t get hurt | m

synopsis. your mom has been asking you for a grandchild - not even a son-in-law but the baby to said nonexistent son-in-law! and your dad is hitting an age where he can barely work anymore. at some point you’re going to take over his position as the chairman of the family hospital but you know nothing about medicine. that’s where kim seokjin comes in. he’ll marry you and become the chairman so you can keep your ceo position and you’ll get a child out of him too. it’s like killing two birds with one stone.

except there’s one problem: you’ve never met the man and you need him to agree to the marriage first. okay, make that two problems.

muses. heir!doctor!seokjin x heiress!ceo!reader x best friend!heir!taehyung

words. 15.6k

contents. slowburn. sexual tension. impregnation kink. daddy/older men kink. viagra is involved lmao.

warnings. matured content.

verse. knj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

“you want my what?”

seokjin’s jaw hangs loose, brows coming together in a show of frustrated bewilderment. it’s tells you enough that he heard you the first time but then again, you’re not asking him for dinner. you’re asking him for-

“your hand in marriage.” glossed lips curl upwards underneath the pristine white cup of hot coffee from the vending machine.

you watch as his widened eyes narrow. lips smack together and finally anger settles in the muscles of his hardening expression. “you’re joking.”

it’s understandable that he’d feel offended. even more so when it’s coming from a stranger who strode right into his office and introduced herself as the chairman’s daughter - the ceo. that’s probably the only reason he agreed to spare you his time - and you’re spending it for this.

it’d be a lie if you say you weren’t surprised that he didn’t know the ceo of the hospital he’s working at but judging from the way he treats you, like he has better things to do - lives to save, you know he’s that type of person. the mad scientist version of a doctor. doesn’t attend annual dinners. doesn’t take off days. he’s perfect.

“dad’s getting old and he needs someone to succeed him but i don’t know anything about medicine - i’m more of a businesswoman and the board wants someone of a clinical background to continue the tradition. if it were up to me, medical expenses would be much higher per patient but i’m also not a capitalist so i need someone on the field to tell me how things are at the hospital so we don’t overcharge nor do we undercharge.”

his eye is twitching at the end of your words and his jaw is clenched in suppression of agitation. at this point, you’re going to have to keep it short so not to drop the whole bomb on him before he himself explodes. “so how bout it? you marry me and become the next chairman and i’ll take care of all the non-clinical related matters. if you were to decline... i can’t guarantee things will remain the same after dad retires.”

“my break is over. it’s nice meeting you miss ___ but i hope we don’t run into each other again.” the chair screeches backwards when he stands up abruptly before you can even finish your sentence. he didn’t even check the time when he swipes his phone off the table and slips it right into his pocket. his words are as clear as day: this is the first and last time we meet.

“you still have ten more minutes, doctor kim.” for some reason he hasn’t stormed off - dare you say, he’s even taking what you said seriously - good. because you’re not here for a laugh either. you meet his heated gaze with ease. “i’m not sure you understand but you’re the cinderella and i’m the prince charming.”

you take out a single midnight scented card and slide it over to seokjin. “and this is a proposal, not a blackmail. call me when you’re ready to talk about the terms for the prenup.”

it’s been a week since you left your card with seokjin.

now, sitting in your office, the scene keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record. a scream erupts in the otherwise pleasantly silent room as you slump in your seat, hands digging into your hair as though if you rub your head hard enough, the memories would fade away. “taehyung, how did i even get that confidence? a prenup? he didn’t even say yes!”

the aforementioned man spares you a glance from the couch he’s lying on before going back to typing away on his phone. it’s probably yuju - one of his recent acquaintances. if you remember correctly, she’s the daughter of sbs’ ceo.

“boys are simple minded beings, give it another day and he’ll call you.” he casually assures, this time not even look away from his phone.

the sleek back hair and black button down underneath seokjin’s white coat flashes at the back of your mind. you don’t see that many doctors wearing something that needs ironing to work that often. sure there’s a dress code but your dad isn’t strict about it - all that mattered to him is the quality of one’s work. for all he cares, these doctors can come to work in pj’s. it’s you that had to make sure they don’t come in pj’s. collared t-shirts are acceptable. so are sneakers instead of heeled shoes. but kim seokjin was nothing less of button down, a well made tie and polished black shoes.

it shows that-

“he’s a man, not a boy.”

this time, taehyung’s fingers freeze on the screen before he turns his cheeks to you with an unfazed expression - as though he’d expected this but still got disappointed when he hears it. “so it’s his age? you wanna marry him because he’s nine years older than you?”

there’s something about the way he singles out the reason you decided it was seokjin, that makes you look away in shame. but you still force out a laugh in a last ditch attempt to brush it off but it sounds awkward in every octave. “ha ha ha ha what are you talking about? he’s the most eligible marriage prospect - that’s why.”

“there’s another one.” he points out. still unconvinced, “that suho guy - he’s also a fellow. also an only child-”

you speak over him,“-but his background is so-so. civil servant parents. went to an ordinary school. you think he’ll adapt to the pressure as quick as seokjin?” suho’s smiling picture peeks from underneath the documents you’d been reviewing before the flashback of your bold proposal comes and haunt you. it’s his resume along with every physician working at the hospital for more than eight years, that you’d obtained from your dad’s secretary. “you know whoever becomes my husband and assume the chairman position is gonna get chewed out alive by the board. it has to be him - it has to be seokjin.”

a sigh echoes from somewhere across from you as taehyung sits up, brows furrowed together as he rubs his head as if it’ll make the the problem go away. “yeah, but he left the social scene a decade ago. you think he’ll walk back in just like that?”

“his records have been nothing but remarkable. he sticks around and works overtime. he’s been one of the most consistent physicians that worked on every holidays. doesn’t take off days. basically a workaholic who loves his job way too much - he doesn’t need to enter the social scene. not when i’m his wife.” a grin spreads across your face by the end of it - all this time, you’d been reading the report about him but once you’ve actually put it in words, the chances of him saying yes seems to sound more real, “he’s gonna keep working as the chairman and ignore anything the board says. he’s perfect.”

“yeah, okay let’s say he is perfect and there’s no reason for him to say no except one,” taehyung pauses for a more dramatic effect, lips twitching upwards slyly as if he knows it’s already got you on the edge of your seat, “what if he has a girlfriend he wants to marry?”

and that’s when your world comes crashing down like waves against the rocks but you don’t like the smug look on taehyung’s face, “yeah but with his schedule, it doesn’t seem like he has one.”

“you never know - they could very well be living together. plus, it’s not like he has to report his dating life to the hospital and he seems like a private enough man to keep it on the low even from his colleagues.”

his words are barely registering but the longer the second stretches on with your thoughts running wild, the faster your heart seems to race. but one thing’s for sure. taehyung’s here because you’re supposed to be discussing the partnership.

“if you’re not gonna talk about work, then get out.” your eye visibly twitches - all of a sudden your best friend since you were in diapers’ presence serves more as a nuisance than a blessing.

“you’re mad, aren’t you?” a grin spreads across his lips before he bursts into laughter - he’s the only person that would laugh in the face of death, “man you’re full of ego - i guess you should be. i mean, if all else fails, he might just say yes because of your face, right, sparky?”

he’s using that nickname he used to call you when you were kids. your love - or as taehyung would put it, obsession for shines and sparkles in diamonds peaked at the age of ten thanks to your mom’s hobby of collecting dimes. she’d sold everything off after she got bored of them and needed space for the arts she bought - her new found hobby. but you remained true to your love for diamonds and symbol of riches and bought half of her collection.

over time, he starts using it less and less and only for reasons to get a rise out of you. where did that cute boy who called you sparky because he thought you were as pretty as the diamonds, go?

all he is now is a devil incarnate. with that height and silly grin of his, he easily antagonize you. and you always give in.

“you’re supposed to be on my side and give me assurance!” you toss a balled up paper, aiming right in his face but instead of hitting the mark, he easily catches it.

“how’s this for assurance? you’re only gonna hurt yourself if you throw a ball like that.” he picks his blazer off the handrest and makes a beeline for the door when he senses the smoke coming out of your ears, “i’m late for my date, see you later!”

it’s exactly fifteen hours later that you receive a call from seokjin.

instead of meeting up at the cafeteria, he’d directed you to flower child, one of the most coveted fine dining restaurants in seoul two days after the call. it turns out he’d made a reservation - and you’re no fool to the long waiting line to get a table. he must’ve booked it some time after your first meeting.

he’s made some effort into putting on a black blazer and matching pants. hair styled to perfection. he may have cut his family off but he hasn’t completely abandoned the way he lived up till a decade ago. you allow yourself to check him out once - when he’d stood up at your arrival and pushed the chair for you.

thankfully, you’re not too underdressed. a creme blouse and grey pencil skirt suit any kind of formal setting.

“have you thought about what you want to include in the prenup?” you ask after the server leaves with your order.

seokjin seems more collected this time. or maybe it’s the incense and dimmed lighting that gives off a more suitable atmosphere to talk about marriage.

either way, you don’t expect the man to chuckle - a short, wistful one. as though he truly, honestly believes- “why would you want to marry an old man like me?”

you know what he’s asking: there’s got to be a catch. straightening your back and crossing it over your chest loosely, you decide to come clean - the full truth. “you’re only thirty-four but i won’t lie - you have a price on your head, doctor kim.”

the server comes back with a small cart and a bucket of chilled red wine. you wait until he pours a third of both glasses and goes away. but seokjin doesn’t appear all that eager for your elaboration - it’s almost as though he’s already known. or at least expected that much.

“your mother is willing to pay anyone who marries you a whooping ten million if the lucky bride brings you back to your family.” you watch as he studies the density of the wine, twirling the glass gently with a sort of tilt on his lips like a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “but i won’t make you reconcile with your family. i’ve told you my intentions - i need someone who knows the ins and outs of the hospital since don’t have any clinical background and it’d be easier if we were husband and wife.”

it’s in that moment that seokjin tears his eyes off the wine and captures your gaze. in the absence of the sunlight, those brown eyes appear more black, reflecting the dancing fire on the incense. you feel naked and bare as he wedges his fingers in and tear open the windows to your soul. “don’t you have someone you want to marry, miss___? someone you love?”

taehyung’s silly grin flashes at the back of your mind like a solar flare you can’t erase - all you can do is wait until dies out on its own. you don’t realize your unfocused gaze is directed to seokjin in the split second you wait for your thoughts to gather itself. redirecting your gaze to the wayward reflection in your own glass, you let out a breathy chuckle. “yeah, well.”

it’s pathetic and embarrassing but you can’t even conjure up proper words. instead, you bring the wine to your lips, preferring to taste the bittersweetness of the wine than that of your own reality.

all you talk about for the rest of the night is matters pertaining the marriage. what he’ll have to endure and what he won’t have to endure. he doesn’t need to attend any of the social functions even if you’re married. doesn’t also need to concern himself with matters about his family - it becomes tricky when his family catches news of their only son’s marriage and want to be there for the ceremonious day.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you and your family but they won’t be invited if you don’t want them to be.” you fix him with one of your smiles. a tilt in the corner of your lips and a languid flutter of your eyelids before meeting his gaze. it always works - takes away the essence of the conversation and makes them focus on you so if he wants to throw your words back at you, there’s a leeway you could escape to.

until you couldn’t.

“it’s fine. i’ve been running away for the last few years - it’s time i face them head on.” he looks up from the steak he’s cutting - you still haven’t recover from the time he’d look at you in the eye and effortlessly tore your defenses like it was paper but there he does it again, splaying out your scheme like a dish best served hot, “besides, they won’t be invited but you can’t- no, you won’t stop them from showing up, right?”

it’s true. his family isn’t just any normal family. his father is a ceo of one of the most prominent cell phone companies in the world after all. you’d be invincible if you’re in good terms with your in-laws. or at least, if they think you’re on their side and want to help them get their son back.

but seeing as nothing gets past seokjin, you’re only left to either evade the question or full out deny it to keep your pride intact. either way, both options will only serve to confirm his suspicion - he may already know what you’re up to but verbalizing it is a different kind of pride-crushing. your lips curl into a smile - an irony of having been cornered in every direction from the man you thought you could wrap around your fingers.

but because your pride wouldn’t allow you to look like a fool and your ethics wouldn’t allow you to tell a flat out lie (half truths are alright), you decide the first option is much better. “there’s one more thing - i want to get pregnant within the first year of our marriage.”

or else, you’re going to end up like your parents - their bones weren’t as strong as they used to be by the time they got you and their souls were withered from the works they’d put on in their better years of their lives. your mother’s life was risked by the late pregnancy. still, they tried to love you better but there were things you couldn’t do with parents who were hitting 50 before you even reached high school. you couldn’t go camping or bike riding or fishing like your grandfather brought your father to.

it seems to have caught seokjin off guard when he stares at you with wide eyes a tad longer before dropping his head and chuckling to himself, “my, i don’t know if i still have it in me.”

and that’s how you know he’s messing with you - perhaps it’s his own way of reminding you that he’s too old for you and if he’s lucky, it’ll scare you away from the idea of marriage altogether. but the fact that he’s trying to make you give up means that he’s agreeing to the marriage. you let your lips curve into a smile, adrenaline rushing through your veins and into your very core.

you absolutely can’t wait to get married.

the marriage will be held within five months - it’s the earliest you can get. it’d be suspicious if you just suddenly got married without any scandal or news of dating the estranged only child of the kim family. you’ve already hired a reporter to follow you during your first three ‘dates’ - they may very well be the only dates you go on together judging from your packed schedule. it’s been almost a week since that dinner and you’ve made plans to appear in public together - your first date.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait for the light on the handle to turn from red to green - a signal that the owner’s allowed you access. “hey, you ready?” is the first thing you say, even though you know he’s not.

“miss ___, i’m sorry i was working and didn’t realize the time.” he seems to be genuinely apologetic - and there’s an x-ray film and some papers strewn over his desk to verify his claim. “i’ll freshen up and -”

his brows lift in surprise when you lower yourself on his lap just as he pushes the chair backwards to stand up. the usually gelled light brown hair falls over his face in a messy middle part and his button down is less crisped than when you saw him the first time. granted your first meeting with him was at noon - it’s not enough time for the demands of his career to dishevel him. it’s evening now.

his jaw slacks just the slightest bit, resulting for his lips to part - you’ve noticed their plump fullness and it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t wonder about how they’d feel on yours. the taupe acrylic on your thumb digs into the soft pink flesh of his lips before it travels to his chin.

“may i?” two words. and that’s all it takes for something lustrous to take over his eyes. you find yourself smirking when he stares quizzically as your hand leaves his face and brings his own between your lips. his fingerpads are callous from years of surgical training but they don’t tremble under the touch of your tongue. his digits are lengthier than you expect them to be. his middle finger hit the back of your throat easily before you can get them all in but he’s not the only one that’s received training.

you switch to his ring finger, tongue gently curling around it before you drag your teeth over the ridges of its joint. as a finishing touch, you make sure to lick the bottom of your lips all the while holding his gaze. then, you allow the smile to grace your lips as though nothing happened but the way you pretend to struggle to get up, causing your ass to rub against his arousal - defeats that false sense of innocence.

either way, his surprised expression turns to an amused one as he chuckles a low chuckle - an admittance of your victory, “my, i just lost, didn’t it?”

“whatever do you mean?” you blink, lashes fluttering with feigned innocence.

articles are starting to pop up after your personal reporter uploaded hers. it’s not enough to shake the world but it’s enough to catch the eyes of secretaries which in turn tell their bosses and as a result, your phone’s been blowing up and your own secretary has been taking calls since this morning.

“___, you’re leaving already?” taeyeon cups the mouthpiece of the phone she’s been on for the last five minutes, alarms going off in her eyes at the thought of your absence. you don’t blame her - from the way the conversation seems to be going, she might just drag the whole telephone all the way to your desk and make you answer them.

business proposals must be pouring in. you feel bad for your secretary but to be frank, the instant ringing as soon as she held up the last call - has been bothering you to no end as well.

you grin sheepishly, “i got a meeting with dad.” it’s just a coincidence that your dad called you to his office today - he usually does every once in a while just to ask how you’re doing and lament about having to handle your mother’s random burst of hobbies she’s getting into ever since you moved out.

looks like nobody’s noticed the ‘rumor’ yet from the way the workers in the administration department bows and greets you on your way to the office. granted, these people are too devoted to their work to pay attention to the latest business scandals but you expected at least one person to be blowing up the group chat with pictures of you and seokjin’s first date.

there’s a familiar figure leaning against your dad’s desk but no trace of the elder man - he must have went to the washroom or something. you thought it odd when taehyung’s eyes fall on you without the usual grin he would usually offer whenever he sees you - like reflex. at first, you assume his own date with yuju probably didn’t go very well.

“hey, loser. this is the first time you’re here earlier than me.” you fix the man your own grin, happy to be able to see not one but two of your favorite persons. taehyung’s been coming over to play at your house since forever. it was normal for your dad to invite him to his office and take you two to lunch now that you two have grown up.

...until you notice your dad on the couch and another person sitting adjacent to him. it’s easy to miss people when they’re sitting down and easier to have your eyes focus on taehyung’s tall frame.

the tension almost crushes your lungs as soon as you walk through the door. it becomes apparent all too soon that taehyung tried to warn you with his eyes to not be your usual idiot self. now, you’re paying the price for it as all eyes fall on you.

the third person in the room turns his cheek towards you - seokjin. he offers a too polite smile as you come to a stop next to the couch he’s one.

“daddy?” all of a sudden, you’re a child in a room full of adults and calling your out to your dad, as if it would somehow make him explain this situation you just walked in.

the elder man releases a long drawn sigh before speaking, “i’d like a word with my daughter and doctor kim, if you don’t mind, taehyung.”

“sure, uncle.” the aforementioned man offers one of his gallant smiles, pushing himself off the desk without taking out his hands from his pockets.

you grab onto taehyung’s arm as he’s about to pass you - pleading with your eyes for him not to leave you, a mere ant, with the elephants in the room. that’s when his serious facade falls through and he’s grinning at you like a brother would to his sister when he knows she’s going to get in trouble with their parents. your temple throbs with a burst of rage but before you can say anything, he’s already out of the door.

the sweetness of the tea mrs. nam served is tasteless compared to the tangible tension in the air. it’s become apparent that while the more tech savvy staff remain clueless of your updated dating status, your father, is not.

be it as it may, guess you should give credit where it’s due - seokjin’s expression is free of any tautness. it’s perfectly neutral - it’s frightening. you know for a fact you’re not saved from a hard line on your glossed lips and a crease between your brows.

“i heard from my wife that you two are dating.” the elderly man finally breaks the silence.

he’s addressing your mom like that so to make it known that he’s talking to seokjin too - and you’re not the only one in hot water. but seeing as it’s your idea and your proposal, it’s also your responsibility to respond-

“that’s correct, sir.”

-but seokjin beats you to it. it’s not just his expression but his tone is completely at ease. almost as though he’s faced tense situations like this one too many times.

you breathe out before speaking, “i was going to introduce doctor kim to you and mom once we bought our engagement rings.”

your dad finally looks up, eyes wide and mouth slacked for the briefest second before his eyes flutter close. now’s about time for him to be rubbing his temples from the headache but instead, he lets out a sigh. for a split second, you see your dad for the age he is - not the age you remember him as in your earliest memories. wrinkles and smile lines and graying hair.

the seconds stretch on as do the silence. you can hear the distant ringing of the telephone all the way from mrs. nam’s desk from outside, almost clearly.

once your word settles in, then comes the million dollar question, “do you two love each other?”

it’s a no brainer. anyone with eyes can see and answer that for you - or perhaps taehyung already told your dad since he must have gone through a similar interrogation session. and yet, it’s only natural to want confirmation from your own daughter instead of her best friend even though he knows everything about her.

this can only go two ways: yes or no.

but you’ve never been fond of flat out lying, especially to the man who taught you such principles and you’ve talked about marrying for convenience with them ever since you realized that ambitions tend to reward but cheap sentiments like love does not.

yet your chest feels heavy having to go against your parents’ wishes and hopes for you - they want what any parent want for their child. happiness. “no, we don’t.”

“but no one enters into a marriage with divorce in mind. i don’t plan on just being a husband to your daughter just on paper. i’ll care for miss ___ and treat her the way like a queen. that much, i promise, sir.” seokjin holds your dad’s gaze - it’s haunting and charming, you would know. you’d been on the receiving end once too many times already. and you know that’s how he gets your dad.

the older man nods, shoulder line relaxing almost as though he’s been lifted off a dead weight. he’s not the only one - you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you feel your own muscles loosening and you’re breathing out in relief.

until his head snaps up to point out one thing, “you’re getting married yet you’re not on first name basis?”

“sorry to rope you into family drama, i’ll be more prepared next time so you won’t have to leave your work.” is the first thing you say once you’re in the elevator. your dad has made sure to grill you to half-death with his questions. he’s gonna give the immigration a run for their money. the first name basis matter is just the beginning of a series of dread -

‘what’s my daughter’s favorite color?’

‘dad, do you even know my-”

‘shh. do you know my daughter still wets the bed at the age ten?’

‘dad!’

seokjin had taken your dad on in stride. he chuckled when your dad said something ridiculous, borderline false and he listened on when your dad went on about the sob story of a ‘poor father with an undefeatable daughter’. but the way he did it was so effortless - almost as if he was a boyfriend visiting your parents and getting told all the embarrassing stories of your childhood and would tease you about it but at the end of the day, tells you he thinks the kid-you was cute - bed wetter or not.

there’s something that restricts your airway at the thought of sharing a feeling so strong with someone. in no time, you push the intimate image away. you and seokjin aren’t like that - this is marriage is strictly convenience-based.

“i asked a friend of mine to cover for me.” so he knew it’d be long but he didn’t actually said it was okay either. marriage is a tricky subject especially for someone as work-crazed as seokjin. you’re surprised he hasn’t cursed you out for making him miss work. “is it red?”

“what?” you blink, steps halting as you stare up at him with what starts to be mindless curiosity but ends up with a stretched on pause as you study the man’s visage. the plumpness of his lips is a given- it’s the first thing you noticed about him.

“your favorite color.” the corners of his lips lifts upwards before he includes his assertion, “you’re always wearing something red - your lipstick was red when we went for dinner. you have a red blouse on now.”

even you didn’t know you have so much red. but it’s true - your functions and meetings wardrobe consists of red and black predominantly besides the more neutral pastel colors. you have a higher success rate of getting sponsors when you wear the tight fitted red dress.

but it’s not a preferred shade per se.

“no,” you chuckle, “my favorite color is yellow, like the banana.”

seokjin’s brows rises at that. he probably didn’t expect that - nobody expects the fierce and confident woman to like such a bright, clarifying color. “though i understand why you think it’s red.”

his lips curl into a smile - the kind of smile that mimics your own, not the one that he wears to charm your father. though that one was also genuine, this one makes him feel younger. like someone you can crack silly jokes with instead of the ever uptight working man.

before he manages to say anything, your name reverberates across the lobby. taehyung’s shrugged off that ugly grey checkered blazer of his and left it at the sofa as he mini run towards you. the grin on his face gradually falls off when he notices the lack of smile on your face.

“you left me for dead!”

he blocks your fist with a hand around your wrist before sighing as if you’re not just directing every ounce of energy in that punch of yours - but then again, none of your smacks really get to him.

“i didn’t know uncle was gonna ask me about that - i thought it was gonna be the usual lunch. i mean, come on, i waited for you down here even though i have work to do so i can make sure all your limbs are intact!” he looks like he almost meant it. almost.

it’s in that moment that seokjin’s remark reminds you that he’s still there, “you two must be close.”

“huh?” taehyung narrows his eye at you as though you’re no more than gum under his shoes while you whip your hand out of his grasp and scoff.

“nah, i’m her only friend.”

“it’s because he doesn’t have any other friend.”

you both say at the same time.

at least seokjin’s still able to laugh with all the intention-to-kill in the air. before you can elaborate on how taehyung kept following you around like a lost puppy when you were younger, seokjin’s hand finds its way around your shoulder, you thought it odd that he needs to pat on the shoulder farthest from him but it turns out he’s pulling you towards him but by the time you realize it, you’re already craning your neck to look at him. but you barely notice the awkward position of his lips on the spot just above your left eyebrow - his lips really are soft. and warm.

and gone.

before you know it, he’s pulling away, saying something about seeing you later - you couldn’t hear it from the blood rushing in your ears and the heat rising on your face. it’s only after you see his white coat disappear around the corner do you finally take notice of the slyly grinning fox in front of you.

“what did i tell you? simple-minded beings.”

you still don’t know why seokjin kissed you on the forehead.

sure, he told your dad he’s not planning to just be a husband on paper - okay. but he’s nowhere near a husband to you yet and you haven’t even given him an engagement ring. it doesn’t help that your heart keeps racing every time time the image of his sharp jaw and pursed lips before he kissed you, plays at the back of your mind.

he smelled good too - like aftershave and lemon and a hint of disinfectants.

before you know it, you find yourself rapping on his door eight minutes past 7 in the evening. after a whole solid minute of the red light on the door handle remaining the same color, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding. it’s supposed to be past his shift but judging from the lack of response from the other side of the room, you know straight away that he’s still at the wards. it may have been an impromptus decision but now that you’ve walked the distance from your office to the other end of the building, you might as well go the extra mile and actually look for him.

most of the nurses and doctors that pass you recognize you, bowing briefly before hurrying to where they were heading before they saw you. you rarely visit the cardiology department - or any other department for that matter because it’s always a hassle for the staff to prepare to greet you. in that aspect, you agree with seokjin - that they could be doing something better than pushing their schedules on their colleague to accompany a sightseeing vip.

“miss ___?” a young man around your age calls, his brows furrow at the idea that his eyes could be fooling him but when you turn to him, his eyes light up in pleasant surprise, “it really is you. why - i didn’t know you were visiting today.”

“doctor kim,” you don’t forget a face easily - right before you is kim suho. the smile that stretches when you recognize him is telling enough. his past achievements are definitely to brag about and he must have attended the annual dinner if he recognizes you, “good evening. this isn’t an official visit - actually, i’m looking for someone. do you happen to know where doctor kim seokjin is?”

“seokjin?” he repeats the name with a sort of familiarity, coupled with confusion. of course, he’s probably wondering what the work-crazed doctor did to have the ceo come all the way to the wards.

“miss ___?” it’s feels almost deja vu - having your names called out by two different people within the span of five minutes. both sounding equally confused but for different reasons.

“good evening,” you fix seokjin one of your alluring smiles, heart skipping a beat - it’s probably the stethoscope hanging over his shoulder. it compliments the collared button down and white coat, look you usually see him in, “i went to you office but you weren’t there so i came here.”

“let’s talk in my office.” he clears his throat, eyes drifting to look to somewhere on his left before he stops himself. if it’s the whispering nurses at the counter he’s worried about - he shouldn’t be. because you’re about to put a ring on it.

“sorry, i was doing my last rounds but the patient was a chatty one - i lost track of time.” he says, walking into the office and setting the stethoscope down on his desk before he takes a seat behind it.

you notice the way his eyes travel from your perfectly pinned up hair down to your diamonds adorned neck down to the halter strap of your elegant maroon dress that wraps around your body flawlessly. but he doesn’t say a word - and you’re forced to school your expression to not show your surprise and hurt when he doesn’t even let his gaze linger for any longer than necessary as he meets your eyes again.

you take out the suede velvet box from your purse and place it right in front of him. “it just came in, why don’t you try putting it on?”

his eyes twinkle with a surprise not because of the foretelling shape and characteristics of the box, nor the affirmation of the silver band inside it but because it sits snugly around his ring finger when he slips it on.

“how did you get my size right?” the impressed tone laced in his voice makes your chest swell with pride and lips curl into a smirk.

it only takes him a few seconds to interpret your smirk - that time in his office. the ghost of his digit on your tongue still lingers. it wasn’t just for show and you weren’t cruel enough to put a man through that misery if you didn’t have your own reasons.

he shakes his head, ring bluntly glinting as suppresses his chuckle with his hand.

your heart is beating too loudly in your chest - there’s something in the way he’s bearing your claim but you still manage to sound leveled and collected. “since we’re officially engaged, do you mind if i call you seokjin?”

“i’d like that very much, ___.” he’s finally dropped the suffix. ms. this, ms. that. you’ve gotten used to it but it serves to enforce the invisible line between you and him when he addresses you so formally.

your phone buzzes in your purse - it must be taehyung. you didn’t expect to spend longer than ten minutes but he must be waiting at the lobby if he’s texting you now. standing up, you bid him a parting “have a nice evening, seokjin.”

he doesn’t seem like he has anything on his mind but just as your hand covers the handle of the door, he speaks up, “once we’re married, could you refrain from going to these functions?”

it takes you off guard. like a spear that pierces you just as you lay down your armor but you’re not one to let something like this get to you, “i’m afraid that’s not possible.” and that’s it. it’s final.

but you should have known when you decide to use that practiced icy tone, that seokjin wouldn’t just back off the way almost everyone would. the only people who would still have the gal to say something or dismiss it are your parents and taehyung.

“i know you expect me to be an obedient husband and become chairman and do my job. it shouldn’t matter if you attend these functions since you’re not forcing me to go with you.” and there’s those eyes again. tearing into the soul of your window and stripping you bare the way only kim seokjin could. “but marriage is about compromise - giving up one thing for the other. i’m gonna inherit my dad’s fortunes and you’re gonna get that 10 million my mom promised. shouldn’t that be enough to get the projects for the hospital rolling?"

when he says it like that, it seems so easy and simple. “no wonder you’re a doctor. you don’t know a thing about maintaining a sustainable business.” you let your lips curl briefly, “but i’ll think about what you said.”

then, you’re out of his office. heels clicking against the floor as you make your way to the lobby and into taehyung’s familiar sleek black burgatti.

“so he asked you to stop coming to these functions.” the car rolls to a stop right in front of the hall where the birthday party of seollyu’s president is held.

“in essence, yeah.” you say after he comes around the car and your hand automatically tucks itself in the crook of his arm.

“then why are you mad?” the car purrs behind you before the valet takes it somewhere to park it.

some of the reporters at the entrance calls your and taehyung’s names in an attempt to make you look at the camera. there’s too many and the lights are blinding - you just want to get into the hall quickly. at least they won’t be able to follow you past the doors.

“i just - i don’t like that he’s asking me to change, you know? just because i’m married, i won’t get to do the things i usually do before? that’s just bullshit.” you huff in frustration - not bothering to hide your stiff eyebrows and slightly pursed lips all the while you have your pictures taken. at best, they’re going to slander you with jealousy over taehyung’s new budding romance.

“i mean, he did cut his family off and stopped going to these things.” the man shrugs, “maybe he has a good reason - did you even ask him why?”

and that’s how you know you’ve lost the fight. taehyung’s too sensible - naturally, he wouldn’t have his own startup at such a young age, if he isn’t the way he is now. but you don’t want an analyst - you want a friend who would listen to you and let you vent your frustrations before finding the root of the problem and suggesting the solution.

taehyung knows this and he knows plenty of many things, having been your childhood and best friend all in one package. but because he knows you too well, he also knows you’ll end up doing something you would regret if he were too late to point out your mistake. sometimes you want to prove him wrong - that you can call the right shots when it comes to people without having him paint a picture for you to foresee the outcome but so far, there’s limited exhibits of your success. your failed past relationships being the prime examples.

“i hate it when you’re right.” you grumble, letting your hand fall to your side - usually you wouldn’t mind having to cling onto taehyung like a child. you’re all the other has in these functions - everyone has their own reason for attending and just like absolutely everyone, you approach people because of what they can give you. that’s why you see groups of people your age flocking together - they grew up trained to sniff those with ill intentions and those with a mutual interest.

and usually, they’ve known each other at a very young age - the way you knew taehyung for as long as you can remember.

you have other friends too - or rather, they’re people you single out to be of no threat to your business and could even become partners someday. like sowon - her bright amber dress making it seem as though a ball of fire is flitting across the hall. you’re about to wave at her before you notice a more furious fire burns in her eyes.

“you bitch!”

all of a sudden, your neck is craned in an awkward angle. the blaze on your cheek settles a little later than the realization that sowon just smacked you right across the face yet when you turn back to her, hands clenching and unclenching in suppression of rising anger - she’s the one with tears in her eyes. “i trusted you.”

oh boy.

the host hasn’t even made his speech and the crowd’s already excited. the widespread whispers don’t go past you - some of the people in your periphery doesn’t even bother hiding leaning into the person next to them while stealing glances your way. but you doubt the woman in front of you would notice anyone here but you.

“ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around.” taehyung speaks from next to you, his smooth baritone echoing off and reaching anyone within five feet. you know he’s doing this to cover for any other possible misunderstanding - after all, this isn’t the first time you’re trapped in a scandal between taehyung and one of his girlfriends.

sowon loathes taehyung though.

but it doesn’t matter as long as everyone thinks it’s just another day of you getting in between the budding romance of taehyung and his female acquaintance. you can already see the expressions of the guests falling - probably disappointed at the not-so-news news. but there are also those who snicker underneath their breath - probably one of taehyung’s past acquaintances. it’s no secret taehyung would choose you over them in a heartbeat - and it’s been established when taehyung appears at a function with another woman once and appear to the next five with you until a new poor soul takes that woman’s place.

what can you say? your best friend’s a charmer. but the downside is, you don’t have that many female friends at functions. and one of the few you do have, you’ve managed to piss off.

sowon’s sniffle tears your attention away from the crowd. flushed cheeks and puffed eyes. you’re not close but you’re acquainted enough to know she’s a woman of pride and confidence. she wouldn’t lose her cool over a man - well, at least not a licentious man like taehyung. and that’s the only reason keeping you from bitch slapping the pride off her. the sting on your cheek is nothing compared to the injury your pride sustains - all because what’s left of your conscience wouldn’t allow you to return the slap.

deep down, you know you deserved it and more. your insides churn painfully. all of a sudden the dress around your body is two sizes too small. it’s suffocating - the whole room is suffocating.

“after everything i told you - you had to go for him?!” her scream could almost burst your eardrums if it isn’t for the blood rushing in your ears.

it’s easy to think she’s referring to taehyung. somewhere from across the room, the crowd starts clearing out a path - looks like the host has caught wind of the commotion sowon has caused.

you want to curse her too. hurt her with words as much as she hurt you with her physical assault. but instead you find yourself dropping your gaze.

“i’m sorry, sowon.” is all you say before mr. jung and his army of secretaries approach you and bring you two to different rooms. by the time dinner starts, sowon isn’t around - it’s understandable, her pride wouldn’t allow her to let these people poke fun at her.

but you don’t survive this world you’re born in by running away - you survive it by developing skin as untouchable as scales. so you stay until desert, smiling with a sore cheek and conversing with those who you know would be neutral about the incident, like nothing happened.

taehyung sticks closer to you. he doesn’t ask if you’re okay - you’re not. but when you tug on his sleeve and timidly murmur you wish to go home, he does so without hesitation. it’s times like these you’d choose him over the world.

the tabloids love gossip. a sensational, popcorn-worthy scoop. there are two divided groups thanks to that. the first one is devoted to the belief that it’s a love triangle between you, taehyung and sowon. the other one, choosing to dig deeper than what’s on the surface, believes it goes way back. ten years back.

“sorry, i should have told you sowon was my ex-fiance - it didn’t occur to me until i saw the articles that you two might meet at a function.” seokjin finally says, the strawberry ice cream beginning to melt in its paper bowl when he asked you to ‘at least, let me cure your injury,’ - you didn’t, in a - make that ten - million years picture it to be in a form of an ice cream bowl he bought from the mini convenience store next to the cafeteria. it was to hold it on your cheek but you couldn’t just let good food go to waste.

it hurts to even smile but you can’t help it at the thought of the rumored half-mad doctor using his break for something besides working some more. coupled with a shake of your head and the plastic spoon trapped in between your lips, you look just as insane.

your heart still clenches at the recollection of the other night, “i knew you two were engaged.”

his shoulder line straightens just the slightest bit as he lifts one eyebrow, not completely surprised but neither is he unfazed. so you continue, “it was by pure dumb luck that you turn out to be the best marriage prospect for me but i thought she was over it since it’s been years.”

there it is again, the churning in your stomach. like something’s eating you from the inside. if you focus enough, you can hear the voice inside your head scoffing - even if they’d just broken up yesterday, you still would have proposed to seokjin, maybe even the day after said break up.

this time, you don’t look away when his eyes meet yours. you let him strip your armor down to your very core. show him just what kind of person you are - the person who wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her ambitions. wouldn’t dwell cheap sentiments like friendship. even if that made you - as sowon would put it - a bitch.

then, he lets out a heavy sigh - the kind of sigh a parent would do when their kid got in trouble and admitted their fault. so now he can’t lecture you on morals and ethics because you have your own principles.

if anything, it reminds you of the glaring difference in your age - the things he’s already experienced that you’re about to someday. the betrayals. the broken friendships. the choices between what you want and what you need. he’s probably seen this all before.

“is an old man like me really worth all that trouble?” the tiniest of smile graces his strong feature. eyebrows wavering with something you can’t pinpoint.

“well, there’s a doctor - kim suho.” this time, you don’t bother pointing out his not-even-that-old age. the way his eye twitches barely noticeably tells you he doesn’t expect your answer. a moment later, it becomes too apparent, from his troubled expression - brows stiffed and jaws tight, that he doesn’t like the idea of you asking for another man’s hand in marriage. you have to tell yourself to refrain from smiling, not because your cheek might hurt again but because it’s probably not a good time to tease him.

deciding to release him from his own misery, you quickly elaborate, “but he has an average background - no matter how much experience he has, you don’t just get on your knees and start slithering with the snakes. you have to be born into the family. so yes,” you place your ice cream on the coffee table, hand pushing back a strand of hair to appear more delicate and win his favor while you let a furtive smile adorn your face - and there’s a smile he’s suppressing too because he knows what you’re trying to do, “this old man is definitely worth it.”

his shoulder line seems to ease up as he tries to hide a relieved sigh by clearing his throat. but it’s short lived when the crease between his brows returns and a newfound tension settles in space on the couch separating the two of you, “yes, but suho was never the one i should be on a look out for, was he?”

you blink but he’s already shaking his head. a smile on his face, “never mind.”

things seem to settle down - everyone at the hospital knows about you and seokjin now. and you’ve managed to convince him to finally use his off days to spend it on preparing for the wedding. cake tasting. dress and suit fitting. deciding on what color the napkins should be - a month ago, you approached seokjin with the mindset to make him agree to marry you. after all, prince charming was the one who had it all - it didn’t make sense to have cinderella do all the wedding planning.

he was mad at you for some reason - it lasted for quite awhile until you directly asked why he’d been given you the cold shoulders. “you keep playing a two man game by yourself.” he sighed when he said those words - because he saw in your eyes, that you thought there was nothing wrong to be finishing what you started by yourself, “we’re getting married - we’re gonna become a team yet you keep making decisions by yourself.”

ever since then, you started asking if he wanted to join you to the cake and dessert tasting, napkin color picking. you didn’t realize how nice it was to do things with another person than decide it on your own.

and somewhere along the way, you started teasing him more.

“if the saying ‘men age like fine wine’ is a person,” a grin slips over your face as you shamelessly give seokjin is a once over, “then you’d be the embodiment of that.”

he doesn’t seem to mind - rather, he seems like he’s enjoying the attention as he chuckles and shakes his head. probably thinking there’s no saving you and your compliments now.

“come here.” it’s the way he says it - with a smile on his lips and eyes that says you’re all he sees and hand extended to capture yours, that makes you jump from your seat. the front of the dress bunched up in your hands as to not trip over it and right into his arms. just like moth drawn to flames.

he pulls you up over the platform that he’s been standing on and lets you stand in front of him, hand on your shoulder as you stare in front of the 3 part mirror in the boutique. the dress you have on is a light gold dress with a sweetheart neckline that wraps around your curves flawlessly down to your knees and flow out like a mermaid’s tail. seokjin has on a traditional cobalt blue single breasted suit with three buttons fitting around his waist perfectly. his hair is gelled back the way you specifically requested.

he gave you a quizzical look as though wanting you to elaborate on your reason for that request but you’d only left him with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘see you on monday.’

if there’s one thing you learned about seokjin, it’s that he’s devastatingly unaware of his strong features that makes every woman’s legs turn to jelly and every man’s heart skip a beat. and he chooses to hide it under that usual middle parted style.

seokjin’s reflection bends down but his eyes remains on you as he whispers against the shell of your ears, “you look exquisite.”

you have half the mind to push him off and run away in case he’d ear the erratic beating in your chest but he probably already knows from the way you shyly look away. the you from a year ago would laugh at what you’ve become - the kind of girl that gets flustered and can’t form a proper sentence in the presence of a male. but before you can respond, a boisterous voice from the sofa you were sitting at, announces, “alright, next!”

your teeth clench together as you whirl around to face taehyung’s silly grin. that cockblocker - he knew you were having a moment and went out of his way to ruin it. “what are you even here for? don’t you have something better to do?”

for once, taehyung isn’t on his phone. you wouldn’t mind it so much if he’d just ignore you half of the time whenever you hang out. “your mom tasked me to find you a perfect dress since she can’t be here.” there’s a glint in his eyes - something ratchet and devious but his lips curve like that of an angel.

you don’t miss seokjin’s tightened jaw and stiff shoulder line as he helps you down the platform. ever since taehyung showed up ten minutes into fitting, seokjin’s expression has been switching from that suave smile to looking like he has a splinter stuck in his thumb - a human sized splinter that goes by the name of kim taehyung.

you never thought you’d live to see the day when kim seokjin would harbor any sort of animosity towards someone - he’s probably a strict supervisor, but resentful? can’t be.

you chalk it up with the plain fact that anyone who’s not head over heels for taehyung would want to skin him alive on the early stages of getting to know him.

“hm? seokjin’s not here yet?” you ask once you’re back from the fitting room, having slipped into an ivory trumpet shaped dress. it’s a much simpler design compared to the one you had on which makes it a perfect counter part for the after party. “that’s a first, the lady finishing first than the guy.”

“oh, it’s not that unusual.” taehyung snickers. guess that just shows how confident he is with his skills.

“i’ve never been this tired and i’ve only tried on three dresses.” instead of entertaining his remark, you choose plop down next to him.

“sparky, does he love you?” it’s that nickname that gets you.

there are only two circumstances where he would call you that: one, when he wants to annoy you and two, when he’s feeling nostalgic. guess it’s finally hitting him that you’re no longer kids chasing each other around in one of his mansions. you’re both grown up and one is trying out wedding gowns.

“uh, me and seokjin are about to get married, taetae.” you throw in a nickname of your own just to lighten up the mood.

but all it does is lift the corners of his lips into a wistful smile. and that’s how you know you can’t be telling your half-truths. and evading his question isn’t working all that well either. “it feels like we can talk about things more openly now - but no, i don’t think he does. he’s marrying me to become the next chairman and i’m after his money and maybe get a kid out of him too.” a knot forms in your stomach - something about what you said doesn’t sit well with you but this is what you wanted. this is what you prepared for the moment you decided to ask seokjin for his hand in marriage. you shouldn’t hope for more.

the laugh taehyung lets out is reactionary. humorless. “can’t you wait for me? i know i’m in no position to ask - but can’t you?”

two years and three months ago, when you were a little youthful, had a little more stars in your eyes - maybe you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. with every birthday you celebrate, fear rears its ugly head and reminds you that time isn’t an illusion and you know better than to bet on something - someone you're not sure you can win.

your heart aches a similar way it did two years ago - but you know now it’s not because it’s breaking to pieces. instead it’s hurting for the pieces of that young boy you could never hope to complete using yours. it took awhile but you know how to get back on your feet - but it’s not all that simple for taehyung. only he can fix his broken pieces.

“i stopped, taehyung,” you finally say, gaze burning holes inside the lace material of the dress, “the moment you told me you can’t - i stopped loving you. i’m glad i did because it wasn’t love. i was just scared to lose you like you’re afraid to lose me now,” you tug on his hand to get him to look at you and he does - all of a sudden, you’re both eight, inside your own bedroom with your dolls and his remote control cars strewn across the floor, “but you’ll always be my taetae and i’ll always be your sparky - i’m always gonna be here for you.”

you thought he’d changed. it’s nice to know he still uses a fruit scented shower gel when he brings you into a hug. the piercing sweet scent isn’t as strong as you remember it. the hug lasts a bit longer and his body is trembling slightly but you know it’s going to be okay - even if he packs up and leave for a foreign city like two years ago when you told him you loved him and you had to hunt him down through your wits and will (that damned private investigator accumulated a fortune to last him for probably ten years). at the end of the day, you’ll come back to each other. because the bond you’ve formed is thicker than the blood coursing through your veins.

“if he makes you cry, you come to me, okay?” you can’t even be mad when he ruffles your hair before picking up his blazer and shrugging it on. by the end of it, you’re both smiling - though his remains wistful, yours is sanguine.

it’s only after taehyung’s figure disappears through the door, do you notice the feeling of a pair of eyes burning holes inside your head.

“seokjin.”

the man is leaning against the door where his changing room is. you don’t need to ask why his brows are strained and the lips that would usually grace you with a smile, is pressed into a tight line.

“i never knew-” seokjin stops himself, lips pressed together as though he doesn’t want to say it, but he does with a shake of his head, “-no, i did know there was something between you and taehyung.”

you end up in seokjin’s apartment. the whole ride has been stiff silent. it’s the first you’ve seen him so disheveled. his tie hangs loose on his neck as though he’d yanked it without a care in the world and forgot about it. the first two buttons of his button down are undone. what once was his perfectly sleeked back hair disheveled from having been mussed up.

the hot chocolate seokjin made you is losing heat the longer you hold onto to it for the sake of having something to do with your hands. “i proposed to him two years ago and stopped loving him as soon as he turned me down - taehyung, he... he’s got a lot going on. that’s all i can say. i hope you don’t misunderstand what you saw.”

his eyes turn as round as saucers for the briefest moment before they flutter to their original almond shapes. shoulder line shaking from chuckling - but there’s nothing funny about any of this so you keep your eyes on him. if he needed confirmation of the truth you’re speaking, he need only search it in the windows of your soul.

“that’s very like you, ___.” he finally says.

you’re not sure what he meant but you’re not about to ponder on it either, “is there anything else you’d like to know about me, seokjin? there’s no reason for me to lie to you - we’re about to get stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. we should at least be able to talk about our past openly.”

when he doesn’t seem to have any other inquiry, you decide to let go of your pride - the reason you never asked was because you were too proud to be wrong. growing up, there were only a few people that you let poke fun at you and fewer you’d let prove you wrong. it dawned on you some time after you’re all showered and ready to go to bed one night - that you’re about to let seokjin waltz into your life and he’ll bear witness to your most intimate side. he’s about to be said one of the fewer people.

“then, my turn - why did you want me to stop attending social functions? i’ve been doing it my whole life - i’m good at it. and i’m not planning to stop just because i got married unless you have a proper reason for asking me to.”

the way his gaze drops tells you it wasn’t just a baseless request. you reach out across the counter, slipping your hands into his. that seems to have brought him back.

“my parents chose to attend a function instead of staying by my grandfather’s side even when the doctor told them he wouldn’t make it til morning - they weren’t even sorry. couldn’t even stay throughout the whole funeral.” he shakes his head almost as though being hung up over it was ridiculous yet couldn’t move past it either, “it’s ugly what too much wealth does - i just- i’m sorry i asked such a thing from you. it’s my own problem that i have to deal with, you don’t have to stop.”

it’s not hard to put yourself in his shoes. you understand where he’s coming from - you want to tell him that but somehow words are cheap. especially right in this moment.

so without thinking, you slip off the stool and walk around the counter until you reach him. the last thing you see before you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, is his wondrous gaze.

the man doesn’t flinch away from your touch nor does he welcome it in any way. but the longer the seconds stretch on, the more you realize how idiotic and awkward it is to hug someone you barely know - it worked for taehyung but that’s only because he knew you preferred action rather than words.

“i’m not gonna stop completely but i won’t go as often - it’s getting boring anyway.” you nonchalantly say - or at least try to sound like you’ve lost interest in the function on your own. you haven’t been to any since that incident with sowon, waiting out for the rumors to die down is a better choice.

the body in your arms is unresponsive as ever - you would think you’re hugging a dead body if not for the heat of his breath fanning your delicate skin. maybe he’s just too nice to push a lady away. just as you’re about retract your arms, a warm hand rests on your hip. his touch is soft and gentle - as if he’s handling a porcelain doll while you’d just dragged him down to you without even considering how uncomfortable the angle would be given his tall broad frame.

his body vibrates when he lets out a short breath like a brief chuckle, “you’re very generous with your hugs.”

your brain short circuits when the man raises his head from your shoulder and rests his forehead on yours - it reminds you of how woman you are. even when he’s sitting he still hovers over you. his free hand cups your jaw, thumb lightly pressing on your lower lip. so this is what it felt like when your roles were switched - is he going to give you a false sense that he’ll kiss you the way you would him?

“may i?” he’s smiling when he repeats your own words - eyes trapping the ray of sunlight that pours over the wall-window like an illuminate waterfall. for the first time since you know him, you’re scared. not of what he will do but of what you want him to - but he won’t do.

your train of thoughts dissipates along with your worry the moment his lips touch yours. gentle. yet the hand pulling you into him is possessive. something in your stomach churns with butterflies.

you want to say you don’t know how you end up with your stomach pressed against his crotch or how his semi-hard arousal started rubbing into your abdomen. it’s supposed to be awkward but it isn’t and you know he’s refraining from addressing his aroused state to avoid making it uncomfortable for you - even though every time you shift and lean into him, you see his the gentle bob of his adam’s apple. it makes you want him even more. he leans into your touch as soon as you reach for him like moth drawn to flames.

“right.” he declares as if he’s been reminded of something when he comes in contact with one of the ridge of the rock on your middle finger. it’s your own engagement ring you ordered with seokjin’s. when the man spoke about getting you one, you’d held up your left hand and told him you already had one made. in fact, you never took it off since the day you put it on - which was the same day it came it.

understandably, you’re always wearing more than a ring on your hand - it’s easy to mix up between the ring from your personal collection or a ring of promise. especially when you didn’t tell him you got one made for yourself.

the hand on your cheek is warm as it brushes against your cheekbones, your rolls off his tongue like sweet honey, “what did i ever do to make you think i don’t love you?”

you blink once. you heard his words but your mind isn’t registering anything. but it seems your heart has seem to figure it out from the way it’s accelerating, you’re afraid seokjin might hear it. “wh-what?”

all of a sudden, you have this urge to pull the invisible blinds of his wall-window and hide from the peering rays of the sun. seokjin’s airy gaze. your fallen dress strap. the gentle protrusion in his pants. your own mussed up hair - you want to keep this moment all to yourself.

he pecks your forehead one last time. this lips curling into a smile - he knows you heard him. loud and clear and you have a feeling you’ll be hearing it at the most unpredictable moment from now on. so there’s no rush.

“where should we go for dinner?”

seokjin knows they call him the doctor version of a mad scientist. he knows a plenty of many things. like how he’s more strict with the junior physicians under his care. but that’s only because if he treats them below their potential, they’ll end up being that.

but the part where suho jokingly told him that he was crazy for working on holidays - maybe he was.

he’d moved out as soon as he turned 18 and eventually cut off his parents. before, even if it was just for show, he still got to see them during those functions they held.

but by the time he graduated college and started interning as a doctor - he was already erasing part of his existence. and his parents didn’t seem to notice. it made it cutting them off effortless.

but then, loneliness - pure, unadulterated loneliness started to sink its claws into him. so he turned to work even more. built his life around it.

by the time he became a fellow, he had absolutely zero social life. the only human interaction he had was with his patients - but they come and go. sure they’re grateful for him - and since the private hospital he’s working at is frequented mostly by the richest, he’d received gifts like cars or gold bars from one of his elderly patients who were convinced they were going to die - until they woke up from a successful surgery done by seokjin himself. but they eventually forget him.

and of course, he returned those gifts. he’d be no different than his parents - than the people he wished not to see anymore after he left that world. but the one thing he thought he wanted - the one thing he thought would make him happy, started to burn him out. every birthday was just a reminder that he’s half the age his soul is.

he’s worn and tired and losing sight of that man he told himself to be by a certain age.

that is, until you came along. at first, it was just courtesy that he listened to what you had to say - apparently you were the ceo. and quite literally, his boss. at first, he thought you were messing with him when you asked for his hand in marriage - no one just waltzes in and propose to someone they don’t know.

even those convenient marriages don’t go this way. but he’d accepted it anyway.

it has more to do with those eyes of yours than the chairman position. those eyes - they remind him so much of himself. the current him. except where his soul wanes, yours thirsts to thrive. like a dying cactus refusing to dry out.

you had thorns but picking them out wasn’t a problem - you’d been disconcerted at first but you’d quickly learn to use it to your advantage. telling him only the truth or nothing. since evasion and half-truths don’t work on him the way they would work on the people you probably surrounded yourself with. and he knew exactly what type of people they were.

eventually, you started telling him the blunt, honest truth. it threw him off a few times - like when you’d straight out told him that you knew who sowon was and still went for him. and that time when you admitted that he was the second man to receive your proposal - the first being that brat, taehyung. and then, you’d straight out asked him about why he didn’t want you attending functions anymore instead of ignoring his request like his parents would. or flip out of shame for having your lie found out. you were forbearing but firm. sometimes, it felt like you were much older than him.

but then you had a childish side to you too - it was food for his soul. every time he was with you, he felt like himself again. like that boy who applied for a job at the hospital with only his wits and his will backing him up. at first, he’d only saw that side of you in front of your most treasured people. your father. your mother. taehyung.

what you and taehyung have - seokjin will never come close to comprehend. a bond so strong, not even death could tear you apart. it became apparent too soon to seokjin that taehyung dominated parts of your life and he’ll only have a but a crevice of his presence in yours. your smile would always be a little brighter when you’re with the younger man. eyes always drifting away from him to taehyung.

and he was content with that but he thinks you’ve changed. or maybe it’s him that did. because you’re grinning at him now - like there’s something up your sleeves. and there is - his eyes widen at your brazenness. one minute he was admiring the way you lasted for hours in those heels that you just kicked off - you’d been wearing them starting from the ceremony to the reception and finally the after party but the next minute, you were grinning and pulling him with you down onto the velvet sheets. the your dress has ridden up to just below your knees in the process and seokjin’s caressing your exposed calf - he thinks you’re all the more delicate. your skin, too soft. he’s afraid he might bruise you.

“oh,” you speak into his mouth before pulling away without even a peck on his lips - but there’s a twinkle in your eyes when you pick up a small golden box that sat prettily on the night stand, “almost forgot. for you.”

“i didn’t get you a wedding gift.” he announces, pushing down the suspicion dominating his brain but how can he not pull out the ribbon to find out what you’ve prepared for him, when you’re looking at him like that? all grin and proud and saying something like you didn’t need one.

then his face falls and he’s looking at you deadpanned in the eye after noting the too familiar tablet of blue pills. but the frown doesn’t live long - he finds himself shaking his head. a smile wedging itself on his own face, “viagra. really?”

“better safe than sorry, right?” it's not right context - usually, a condom would be involved where that sentenced is used. but you know from seokjin’s dazed stare that he doesn’t get it - but he chooses to admire your features instead.

it takes everything in you not to bury your face in his chest just because his stare is making you feel like a high school girl with a crush. his eyes don’t make you want to reel away from him and cover every scar and lies with a thick blanket anymore. perhaps it has something to do with the fact that there isn’t any that he hasn’t seen. both your flaws and your virtue - if he wanted to run away, there were plenty of chances for him to do so but he stayed and now - now, you’ll never let him go. hold him captive in your castle, smooth criminal. you lean and press a kiss on his lips - just to make him close his eyes.

when you pull away, his lips chases yours. just like moth drawn to flames. you can’t help but giggle - it’s cut short when his hand weaves itself into your hair and bring you down to him.

you barely notice the hand that wraps around your wrist before your back hits the soft mattress. his shoulders appear more broad now that he’s hunched over you like a beast who hasn’t had a drop of water since the drought. at times like these you’re reminded of how man he is and how woman you are. a fact you seem to forget because he’s been playing along with your little games like a well-behaved child.

“hey, no fair!” lips pursed, you cross your arms in a show of protest. but he chuckles that soothing chuckle and he’s standing on his knees while the frame of his belt glints in warning.

your heart skips a beat at the sight of his arousal that was begging to be released from the confinements of his cobalt blue pants. the sigh he breathes out when he pulls down the zipper, sends shivers down your spine.but disappointment makes your face fall when he leaves it like that instead of pushing his pants down along with it.

that’s okay. you tell yourself. we’re married now-

you reach out for him only to have a hand wrap around your wrist, your fingers hovering achingly close to the gentle protrusion in his black boxers but not really touching.

you crane your neck to look at him but when your eyes meet, your words die in your throat. the smile is gone and in its place, is a tilted smirk, “are you sure? once we start i might not be able to stop.”

it’s that question that gets your heart writhing and crying to be set free from the confinement of your rib cages.

“seokjin,” the name tastes delectably sinful tonight, “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

maybe it’s the vow you’re making on the absolutely zero occasion where you’ve been this rapt by a man. maybe it’s your out of character use of the curse - that’s just how much you want this. or maybe it’s both. either way, seokjin’s gripping handfuls of your dress and you wordlessly raise your hands up for him to pull your dress off you.

it’s the way his eyes travel down your body. hunger. madness. lust. they meld together in those darkened eyes of his yet you’ve never felt so safe. he dives in for a kiss. this time, it’s raw and passionate and has no intention to stop halfway - not after he made it clear that he couldn’t and not after you pleaded for him to take you.

your white cotton bra is first to go - you only wore it because the straps won’t contrast too much with the strap of your dress. initially, you were going to tease him a bit and disappear into the bathroom to change into the lacy black lingerie set you’d specifically ordered to be custom made by victoria’s secret. but with the way he’s kneading your breast in his palm and the way you’re clawing against his clothed chest like a ravenous creature - the lingerie can wait.

“take off your clothes.” in your head, it sounded more demanding - but it comes out breathy and begging. a part of you chide yourself for waving the white flag before the game even began but another part of you is tired of being the only one bare and naked.

there’s a godless gleam in his eyes the moment he heard your request and you should have known seokjin wouldn’t make it that easy for you. this is karma coming back to bite you in your butt naked state after all those times you spent teasing the man and him accepting it without any complaint. you thought he was just mature enough to get over it. it turns out he was just a beast laying in wait to claim what he deserves, “what’s the magic word?”

“please.” you answer in a heartbeat.

that same heart stops beating the second he shakes his head. no. wrong answer. “the other one - do you really think i didn’t notice? the way you tease me - the way you know i won’t do anything about it because i’m older, i have to be a bigger person?”

that’s when your pride comes crashing in like tidal wave. walk away, it says. you take back what you said about having nothing to hide from seokjin - there’s one. and you thought you’d keep it with you. let it be buried in your grave. but he knows - like he knows every layer of your existence. your every desire and compulsion. it’s disgraceful and mortifying, for you. but seokjin holds your gaze and wait, wait, wait - he doesn’t seem to share your thoughts - doesn’t look disgusted either.

“daddy.” the moment the word leaves your mouth, you feel liberated. freed. like a long overdue confession. the pleased look on seokjin’s face is everything and more. “daddy, please.”

“as you wish.” he’s your liberator. your freer. and he’s about to grant your one carnal desire.

his clothes hit the ground within less than a minute. you can’t help but gawk at his perfectly sculpted physique. it’s like gods personally descended the heavens and blessed him in his mother’s womb and stayed by his side up until now - only for him to scorn them right in this moment. your body bounces off the bed lightly when his fingers dig in your thigh, pulling you closer like a ragged doll. a small yelp escapes you.

your panties are the last to go. discarded somewhere on the floor along with yours and his wedding attire.

the first whimper escapes the moment he slips into you, but not fully. he lets you take him in, get used to his size and directs your hand to his lips before placing it on his shoulder. as if telling you, you can hurt him, claw him until his back is raw and bleeding.

you wouldn’t at first - opting to keep your hands fisted while you try your hardest to suppress every moan that erupts from your mouth with every stroke. but then he hits that sweet spot. your back arches forward and you think it’s that moment when your fingers break the delicate skin on his back - but you can’t remember. it’s a blur - the electricity coursing from your heart through your veins and curls your toes. the stars you see in the back of your mind and the way you tighten around him when the delectable sound of his moans brushes the shell of your ear as he holds you against him.

he almost crushed him underneath his weight when he pulls out of you. the traces of his arousal pressing in between your bodies as he forces himself up by propping himself on his forearms. his labored breath fans your face and he’s all you see.

there’s still a surplus of tingle in your lower abdomen how high he takes you - almost like cloud nine. and you’re slick with sweat and body fluid but there’s no where you’d rather be than here, in your husband’s arms.

five months ago, you approached him with the objective of gaining a husband to take the chairman position and maybe give you the grandchild that your mother’s been asking you for. you didn’t expect for anything more than what you bargained for. but the first time he told you how he felt - you still didn’t believe him.

it was too surreal. and seokjin probably saw the tendrils of doubt every time he tells you how he feels - at the most sporadic moment. but he kept picking your thorns one by one like he could do this for a hundred years and more. you think i was that day when he found out about your past feelings for taehyung that he started. and he finally picked all of your prickly spikes - and now, he’s holding you like a child. head buried in between your breasts, muscled arms loosely hugging your waist. what a contrasting different to the man he was half an hour ago but so very seokjin of him.

the elated breath he lets out with his sigh is warm on your skin, “you know how to make an old man feel young.”

there he does it again. he’s been saying he’s old even though he’s only in his 30′s. at first you thought he was joking but over time - you think he truly believes he is. but when you agree with him-

“is your back okay? wouldn’t want your ancient bones breaking.” you pat his head sympathetically.

almost as if you’ve pushed a that button with a flashy warning red on it, his fingers twine around your wrist and pull it away from his head. the bed shifts as he hovers over you with an aggrieved glint, “i’m sure there are greater things that little mouth of yours can do than express your concerns for my back, sweetheart.”

your heart skips a beat.

epilogue.

you love being married.

not because you can strut to seokjin’s office and have everyone know you have every right to be there. nor because the board can’t really say anything since seokjin fits every characteristics of a chairman either. but because-

“we’ve been at it like rabbits,” seokjin shoulder line jolts slightly when your arms gently wrap around him from behind but there’s a sort of mirth laced in his voice, “you’re still not tired?”

“what ever do you mean, dear husband?” your voice is sweet but not entirely innocent.

sure, you did it an hour ago and you’re both supposed to get ready for bed but when you stepped out of the bathroom and find the bed empty, you had to wander outside. you know he’d be in the living room reviewing past years’ reports in his preparation to take on your dad’s position. he could just step up first and get familiar with his job along the way - but it wouldn’t have been very seokjin to enter the battlefield without polishing his armor.

he smells like peppermint and lavender. donning a plain white shirt and grey sweats - it’s the second most dressed down you’ve ever seen him in compared to the white-collars you’re so used to seeing him in. the first, being when he’s in bed, of course.

“okay, well, i’m going to bed first.” with a peck on his cheek, you bid him a good night.

but it’s not in your nature to give up without a fight - or rather, without sauntering in front him in your pastel pink camisole. you put on the a black and gold corset on your first monthivasery - it was just an excuse for you to try on the lingerie and it paid off. but there’s just something about camisoles - floral or plain pastels are what gets him prancing on you like a hungry beast. it looks like you’re not the only one with a fetish.

the cleaner comes in every twice a week and you’re not here enough to mess up the place except the master bedroom - like seokjin said, you have been going at it like rabbits. still, you bend down, making sure your ass is perked a little higher as you rearrange the picture frames on the rack under the tv.

a tune of your favorite song vibrates against your throat for thirty-six seconds before you straighten your back and begin to walk towards the bedroom. but something you caught in your periphery halts your steps, “did you just check out my ass then bite your lip? ‘cause if you did we’re having sex. right now.”

that seems to catch him off guard - you’ve been finding new and creative ways to get fucked. some worked. and by worked, you mean it had you moaning and writhing as he took you raw. some failed. meaning he had relented mainly because you were asking and he wanted to please you - at times like those, he was the one lying down, watching you ride him but halfway through, he’d pulled you down and started fucking you missionary because ‘you were good darling, but watching you makes me want to personally fuck you senseless. you can ride me next time, i promise.’

either way, your work life is superb and your sex life is out of this world. especially with a husband like seokjin. guess that dry spell has finally lifted and unleashed the hungry beast in him.

seokjin sighs, eyebrows coming together in a troubled frown but the lump in his pants say otherwise. “when you’re sore and need me to walk you to your office tomorrow, remember you asked for this.”

something in the pit of your stomach churns. your heart races with adrenaline as he takes two steps with those long legs of his and close the distance. a yelp escapes your lips, not expecting him to hoist you over his shoulder like you weight nothing and landing a smack on your ass like he’s reprimanding you.

“seokjin! put me down, i’m heavy!” you cry out, smacking his back in protest. when you wanted him to take you, this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind - it’d be a completely, perfect lie if you say you weren’t dripping with excitement.

“this way’s faster than your tiny little legs, darling.” you can hear the smirk in his voice before he kisses the exposed skin on your hip.

note: and that’s it. but it’s not over yet! there might be drabbles coming up on our fav couple’s adventure as they try to get preggo lmaooo also i’ll be doing a ‘story time’ where i talk about the background of this fic - what inspired me to write it, why i titled it like the way i did and i’d like to dissect and oc and tae’s relationship and so much more. send me an ask if you have something in particular you want me to address from the fic!

if you like this fic feel free to check out namjoon’s version called good guys finish last. i’m also planning to turn this au into a series for every member. taehyung or yoongi will be next!

#bts smut #kim seokjin smut #bts seokjin smut #bts #kim seokjin #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin scenarios #bts seokjin scenarios #bts seokjin fanfic #bts seokjin fic #bts x reader #bts x yn

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 4 years ago

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see this is such a perfect encapsulation of why we need to vote.

let’s ignore Biden for now (though, for the love of god, please vote for him, there is no viable 3rd party for President in this election; that’s work to be done for the future)

let’s work on getting the House and the Senate, and our state legislatures, younger and more progressive. this is something we can accomplish, particularly in the house, in a matter of a few election cycles. we need to vote to push the base of the party more progressive.

there is definitely hope to getting this done; Talib destroyed her more centrist opponent in the primary (after polls predicted it would be very close, it was not at all). if we push the entire base further and further to the left, we can shift what counts as the “center”.

get out and vote. if your state is still primarying, vote for the most progressive candidates down the line.

right now, boomers and gen X has much higher rates of voter turnout than millennials and gen z. naturally they are voting in people who more closely represent them; so its up to us to vote for people who more closely represent us. millennials and gen z of voting age outnumber the older generations by a significant margin. we win if we show up.

WE WIN IF WE SHOW UP. so do it.

#vote #please vote #and even if you hate biden #an establishment democrat #who believes in climate change #science #lgbtq rights #a woman's right to choose #and has a good (though not perfect) record on black civil rights #is better than the fascist white supremacist in office right now #take the lesser of the 2 evils

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blue-writes-things · 4 years ago

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We Don’t Have To Dance

Sirius Black x Wolfstar/Marauders (PLATONIC) | Angst (but a bit of fluff at the end)

“We don’t have to talk, we don’t have to dance, we don’t have to make friends”

| Masterlists |

Words: 2587 TW: Swearing, Alcohol (mentioned)The Prank (mentioned) the word hell is said a lot, yelling/ a fight/ a bit of blood, Walburga and Orion’s A+ parenting (aka mentions of abuse) anxiety A/N: First I’d like to say that this could be triggering, please read the TW and take care if you read, I just started writing and didn’t stop.

Also this is kinda au(?¿?) where Sirius doesn’t run away to James’s house. ALSO there’s quite a few POV changes (sorry)

ALSO I used the song “We Don’t Have To Dance” by Andy Black (lol) as inspiration/prompts, the fic has pretty much nothing to do with what the song is about tho

Feedback is always appreciated! - Blue

-----------------------------

Record scratch; Steve Miller Band Tattooed necks and tattooed hands

Oh, how don't you drown in a rainstorm?

It was the first day back to school and the Gryffindors decided to throw a party for the older students, so once all the young ones were tucked up in bed, all the others placed silencing charms around the common room and got out all the drinks they had stolen from home.

*Remus’s POV*

Parties aren’t Remus’s thing but when the whole tower was loud and to make it to the hallway would mean weaving through people, and he really didn’t feel like doing that. And he couldn’t go to the dorms because Sirius was standing by the staircase, Remus could smell him the other side of the room with people in between, Remus used to love the smell of Sirius, cigarettes, candy, mint and wet dog, it was comforting, but now it just hurt, both from the event before the end of term and the undertones of Fresh regrets and vodka sweats.

The sun is down and we're bound to get Exhausted and so far from the shore

Remus had felt so awful the whole break, and but the looks of Sirius, he didn’t have a great time either ‘stop! He’s not a friend, I don't care about him anymore!’ he was pulled from his thoughts when a hand landed on his shoulder

“MY MAIN MAN MOONY!” A slightly tipsy James, stood next to him, “Hey Prongs” Remus smiled, James started looking between Remus and Sirius, taking a deep breath,

“Remus, I know you miss him, and I know you hate the fact you do” James said in his ear sobering up a little as the pair of them watched Sirius

He was leaning on the wall, a drink in hand, not talking to anyone, not dancing or laughing like he would normally be during these parties.

“Are you a mind reader James Potter? I can’t believe you never told me!” He tried to deflect James, Remus really didn’t feel like talking about it right now, but James is stubborn, very stubborn

“Well maybe I am,” he chuckled “But you’re my best mate and I know you, and I know him”

“No, James, as I keep saying, we knew him, he betrayed me and I don’t think I could ever forgive him for that, and I don’t think I could forgive myself for the things I said to him, I know I was emotional but I stooped so low”

*Flashback*

Remus had been yelling at Sirius for what felt like hours, pacing around the Shrieking Shack. Sirius was standing as still as a statue, looking down, his arms around his middle like he had just been punched in the guy, Remus couldn’t see the tears on as his face was hidden by a curtain of hair, but being the day after a full moon his senses were still on overdrive.

Remus snapped his head to look at Sirius, he hadn’t moved a muscle since Remus started yelling, hadn’t said a word “Are you even listening to me! Do you even care!” Remus said walking over to him, Sirius didn’t respond, not even a nod.

He was listening to every word, each one felt like the knife had been pulled from Remus’s back and went straight to his heart, each syllable felt like someone twisted it.

“You’re such a horrible person Black, you’re exactly like your family, don’t ever talk to me again, I hate you!”

Remus turned to leave but heard Sirius mumble to himself, so quietly that if Remus wasn’t a werewolf he wouldn’t have heard it,

“I know...”

All of Remus’s anger and hurt turned to complete rage and hatred, and he did something he thought he never would, that he promised Sirius he would never do. He turned on his heel and went back to the boy who still hadn’t moved,

Putting his arms out he shoved Sirius’s chest who stumbled back and his eyes widened and he started breathing heavier, then Remus swung at him, punching him square in the nose knocking Sirius to the floor, Remus walked to the door his hand having a splatter of blood on it from Sirius’s nose.

“Your mother is finally going to be proud of you, you’ve really turned into the perfect heir for the noble and most ancient house of Black.”

And with that he left, not looking back, although he almost did when he heard Sirius’s screams and sobs. Nobody saw Sirius anywhere for three days.

*Flashback over*

“Look, Rem, I know our group will never be the same, with or without Sirius, and we’ve all changed as people but I think” James paused for a second, to make sure he got his words right

“I think that life would be easier for everyone, if we could at least be civil with each other, and I know he’s been dying to apologize, well that’s what he said in his letter before he started sending my replies back unopened”

Remus frowned a bit at that last comment, but he was thinking about everything James said, how it would make life so much easier if he could at least say hello to him in the halls, or bare being in the same room as him.

“I- I think that even though our friendship will never go back to where it was, I really do miss him.” Remus sighed looking back at Sirius who no longer had a drink but was fidgeting with his jumper sleeves.

“Ya know what? Fuck it I’m gonna say hello and make uncomfortable small talk” Remus grabbed James’s half full cup of some kind of alcohol and downed the whole thing, James had wide eyes and his jaw had dropped but he was still smiling

“Atta’ boy!” James patted him on the shoulder as they went their separate ways.

*Sirius’s POV*

Sirius really didn’t want to be at the party, but it was better than being alone. Sirius couldn't stand being alone, never could, but now alone meant being stuck with his thoughts and that never led to anything good.

He looked up from his sleeve to see Remus downing James’s drink and walking in his direction. That night in the shack clouding in his mind, and what replayed in his head when Remus hit him.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to distract his mind by focusing on the music.

“Hey, Padfoot” Remus stood in front of him, there was concern laced in Remus’s voice but Sirius didn’t know if his face mimicked it, he kept his head down.

“Hello Remus,” He mumbled and said nothing more, thinking Remus was just moving past him “S-sorry am I in your way?” He stuttered and cursed himself for that, Mother always got mad when he stuttered.

“Oh, uh, no,” Remus scratched the back of his head. “I came over to say hi?” The unsureality in his voice wasn’t very comforting.

“Oh”

Sirius didn’t know what to say, most of the holidays he spent planning a whole speech, with apologies and explanations and more apologies (and if he had a chance, chocolate) but now that whole thing just blanked in his mind. The fact Remus came to him and apparently just to say ‘hi’ through him off

“Sirius, are you ok?” Remus asked ‘Why did he have to be so caring! Merlin I’m such a fuck up, wait he asked something’

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m good, sorry I’m a bit past tipsy” he flashed him his most believable fake smile, but by the way Remus’s eyebrows raised he didn’t buy it. Remus could always see right through him.

“How was your break, Remus?” He was trying to be more animated, hiding his hurt, even though he knew Remus didn’t believe it for a breath

“Yeah it was ok, after the full, me, ma and pa went to Wales to see family, was good to see ‘em again, ya know?” He smiled (internally face palming after he finished, knowing no Sirius didn’t know, and hated his family)

“That’s great! I hope the full went ok” at the mention of family he subconsciously shrunk into himself, as soon as he realised he straightened his back again. ‘Mother’s gonna make me balance books again, probably hexing me while she’s at it’

“Yeah it wasn’t awful, wasn’t great either but ya know, how was your break?”

‘Think Sirius, think! you knew someone was going to ask you, why didn’t you think of something before’

“Yeah It was- it was good, got to annoy Kreature so that was fun” He grinned, yet Remus couldn’t see the spark that was normally there when he talked about annoying people at that house.

“Sirius,” Remus reached his hand out to touch his arm, he may not be friends with Sirius in the way they were, but he still cared about him and hated to think that something happened

But Sirius flinched his arm back, it was a reflex, and Remus looked taken aback, he looked in Remus’s eyes for the first time in months, the concern and worry (and hurt) in his eyes made Sirius look down again,

“Something's not right Sirius, what happened?”

“Nothing happened okay! Just leave it, please” All Sirius was thinking was ‘run, get away, run’

“No, ’m not going to leave it, I know something happened Sirius, I’m not stupid, let me help- ”

“Stop,” he snapped, interrupting him “Stop worrying, stop caring ok? I don’t need help, I’m fine. Just go enjoy the party, I’m going to bed.”

He turned and ran up the stairs, glad he stood by them, he heard Remus call out to him but he just kept going to the dorm and sat on his bed, his leg started bouncing a million miles an hour, his body was a live wire in a puddle of anxiety, stress and fear.

He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths to stop his tears. Mother always told him he wasn’t allowed to cry, he was thankful he could still hear some of the music so it wasn’t completely silent.

Click The door opens

“Sirius” Remus’s soft voice calls from the door, Sirius desperately wants Remus to hug him and tell him everything is ok, that’s he’s safe, but he’s not, he’s never safe, and there’s no way Remus would hug him

“Sirius” he said again sitting down next to him, not right next to him, which Sirius was thankful for, but he also just wanted someone to be close to him “I get that opening up can be scary, I know it’s especially hard f’you, but maybe if you got it of your chest you might feel better?”

“No, there’s nothing to get off my chest I’m fine,” Sirius knew there was no actual point in lying about that, but he really didn’t want to talk “even if I wasn’t, I wouldn't want to be a burden”

“I get it, Padfoot, trust me I do-” But Sirius cut him off (again) losing his temper

“NO! You’re never gonna get it!” He jumped off the bed and started pacing “you don’t understand I'm a hazard to myself, I'll break it to you easy Remus, this is hell!” then he motioned to his head “this is hell.”

“Pads, please calm down”

“And you know what’s the worst part, I’m a hazard to everyone around me, everyone hates me and I know it, I know people talk about me. Even down at the party, you and James, you're looking and whispering, you think I'm someone else, you know what? Yeah I am! I’m not ‘Padfoot’ I’m not a marauder, I’m a coward who can’t keep his stupid mouth shut, and it gets others hurt, fuck I know I deserve all the shit Mother and Father did in the break, but you didn’t deserve to have me tell Severus!” Sirius finally took a deep breath wiping the stray tears away as fast as he could

“Sirius, I know James doesn’t hate you and I’m sure Peter doesn’t, I don’t hate you, yeah sure I’m a little hurt still, but I don’t and never could hate you. But pads, what did your parents do to you?”

“What do you mean? Mother and Father didn’t do anything” Sirius’s heart rate picked up again

“You said you ‘deserve all the shit’ your parents did, what did they do?” Remus stood up and walked over to Sirius, very slowly and gently putting his hands on his shoulders, Sirius flinched a little but didn’t move away.

“This is hell, yes.” Sirius mumbled “Literal hell.”

Remus pulled him to his chest and hugged him, Sirius didn’t hug back but, again, didn’t pull away he rested his head on Remus’s chest and cried, the kind of crying where it hurts and you want to stop, you but can’t.

“Remus I can't take anymore, it hurts, but they don’t stop, I have to learn, I have to listen. I am in hell.”

The boys move to Remus’s bed, and they lay down together, Sirius curled on Remus’s chest to listen to his heart beat, and he tells him everything. From his parents abuse, the cellar, when James stopped replying (Which Remus explained that James just kept getting his letters back unopened and they realised it was his Walbaura not giving them to him)

And Remus was right, it did feel better to get it off his chest, and to cry, and for someone to be close to him and not be hurting him, Sirius and Remus’s friendship still had healing to do, as did Sirius’s with the other marauders.

Sirius had calmed down, a new song started playing and he grinned a little “Why are you smiling?” Remus said into his hair “This is my favourite song”

“Well, the party’s going to end in a few hours, why don’t we go down? Just for a bit, you can say hi to James and Pete?”

Sirius stiffened “Remus, I don’t know if I can do the whole faking smiles and confidence, I don’t think I can make small talk, and be at a party, and face people who probably don’t want to talk to me, let alone make friends with me”

Remus smiled comfortingly at him “We don't have to talk, we don't have to dance, we don't have to smile, we don't have to make friends, we can just stand near the stairs and watch them be drunk idiots? We can come back up here if it’s too much”

Sirius thought for a moment “Ok” he got off Remus and headed to the door but he stopped when he was about to open it

“We don’t have to talk, dance, smile or make friends, I promise” Remus put his hand on the others shoulder, Sirius nodded opening the door, Remus right next to them, he was just repeating in his mind

‘We don't have to talk, We don't have to dance, We don't have to dance, We don't have to talk, We don't have to talk, We don't have to dance, We don't have to talk, talk, talk, We don't have to dance, We don't have to talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk’

But Sirius not only talked to James and Peter, but they all danced together like they did when they were all friends. There was still healing to do but by the end of the night they had all made friends again.

Tag List: @theravenclawgal

I have no clue what this is ~blue

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coll2mitts · 3 years ago

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#28 Hairspray (2007)

Welcome to Hairspray, where a well-intentioned, woke, white teenage girl singlehandedly ends segregation in 1960s Baltimore.

Y’know, after watching Cry-Baby, I wasn’t super keen on revisiting Hairspray, but I figured it deserved a fair shot. I hadn’t seen the original since I was in high school, so I booted up HBO Max and settled in for a long night of old-timey dance moves and racial inequality. Guys... the 1988 version of Hairspray is flippin’ great.

The cast is just to die for. Ricki Lake, who I only knew as a talk show host in my childhood, is a great Tracy Turnblad. My favorite devious sea witch Divine is her mother, and Jerry Stiller is her father. Goddamn Debbie Harry and Sunny Bono are her rival’s parents, and Amber Von Tussle is motherfucking Colleen Fitzpatrick. As someone who has a vested interest in all famous Colleens, I was stoked to see that Hairspray was Vitamin C’s first acting gig.

FUN FACT: According to Wikipedia (which is never wrong), Graduation (Friends Forever) charts on iTunes at the end of every school year. Colleen is also the VP of music at Nickelodeon, so she’s doing just fine.

Anyway, the original Hairspray is campy, edgy and hilarious. If I were Miss Soft Crab 1945, I too would bring it up every chance I got. The story really boils down to two horny teenage girls trying to claw their way to the top, but the charm of Tracy is she’s trying to pull everyone else up with her. The way they handle segregation and racial inequality is over-the-top ridiculous, but somehow more realistic than its updated counterpart (put a pin in this). I mean, a racist white woman shoved a bomb in her hair to own the libs and it gloriously explodes on her head. I haven’t seen the musical adaptation of Hairspray, so my opinions of how true it is to its source material won’t be explored here, but the 2007 movie adaptation, to me, left a lot to be desired.

Hairspray might be the most popular in a recent trend of non-musical movies being adapted for Broadway. I remember back in the 90s when Beauty and the Beast hit the stage - it was so successful Disney now has the movie-to-Broadway pipeline on speed dial. But now we’re getting a shitload of movies with no musical elements being fast tracked to Broadway, like Kinky Boots, Bend it Like Beckham, Mean Girls, Beetlejuice, Heathers, Waitress, Legally Blonde, fucking Groundhog Day with music written by Tim Minchin, just, so goddamn many of them. I love musicals, but to say I didn’t want to see The Heathers threaten Veronica in 3-part harmony would be an understatement, so I’m immediately skeptical to the quality of this content and hesitant to consume it. Unfortunately for me, Hairspray is one of the few who had their *corny* musical adaptation also committed to film, and it is a neutered, earnest, high school choir translation of the original and it made my teeth hurt.

The two positives I’ll give the remake are the sets/costumes are great, and the cast serve their roles well, although I will never be OK with someone wearing a fat suit as a costume. The songs are... fine. Again, this era of music is not my favorite, so I’m never going to get excited over “It Takes Two” or “I Can Hear the Bells”. It’s just the tone is so different from the original, and by the end of the movie I was exhausted and very glad it was over. Writing about it now has required several breaks and side-tangents and I can’t even get to the fucking synopsis of the movie... ugh let’s just do this.

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Tracy Turnblad is a “pleasantly plump” teenage girl living in 1960s Baltimore whose sunny disposition makes her oblivious to the reality of murky situation she is living in. We’re quickly introduced to her obsession, “The Corny Collins Show”, which features a number of far-out teens that love to dance, including multi-year winner of Miss Teenage Hairspray and miss Pitch Perfect herself Amber Von Tussel. Her mother, Velma, played by Michelle Pfeiffer, is the station manager at WYZT, and uses her power to keep Amber featured front and center.

After a girl on the show gets knocked up, an audition is held to replace her. While Tracy’s mother Edna, regrettably played by John Travolta in a fat suit, is afraid that Tracy’s weight will prevent her from landing the gig, her father, puzzlingly played by like a 60-something Christopher Walken, is generally supportive. True to Edna’s feeling, Tracy is fat shamed by Amber and Velma and doesn’t make the cut.

After getting detention for skipping class for an audition that didn’t pan out, Tracy makes friends with a bunch of black students who are all excellent dancers. Turns out her new friend Seaweed is the son of Motormouth Maybelle, the sometimes-host of "The Corny Collins Show”, played by Queen Latifah. Velma, in addition to being a massive bitch, also segregates the station’s black talent from the main show, only to be featured one night a month on “Negro Day”. While Tracy is boogying down, Link, Amber’s boyfriend and one of the stars of TCCS, peeps at her ass and tells her if she shook her rump in front of Corny at the Hop, he’d have no choice but to put her on the show.

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In the original movie, Tracy Turnblad fucks. She moves in on Link and devours him whole, with no mind given to her size. She is a kind of bratty, confident young teenager that isn’t afraid to reach out and grab what she wants. Tracy in the 2007 version is the most innocent cinnamon roll that has ever been baked. Link gives her one compliment and she drifts into fantasies of marrying him. Part of me is annoyed by this, but the other part of me appreciates misguided optimism played as humor.

At the Corny Collins hop, Tracy steals borrows Seaweed’s dance move and lands a place on TCCS council. After declaring she wants every day to be Negro Day, the head of the station declares he wants that “chubby communist girl” off the show. Corny, played by a dreamy James Marsden, sticks his neck out for Tracy and furthermore, says the show should be integrated. As Tracy’s popularity skyrockets, the station shows more leeway to her size and her look, but to maintain some semblance of control, Velma works to completely edge out Negro Day.

Meanwhile, Link is clued into how fun it is in detention, and him, Tracy, and Penny all dance their way to Motormouth Maybelle’s record store for a potluck. When Seaweed introduces his new white friends to his mother, Penny delivers my favorite line of the whole movie, “I’m very pleased and scared to be here.” Amber rats out Tracy’s activities to her mother, and Edna arrives to Motormouth’s with the intention of dragging Tracy home until she realizes that black people are OK because they eat brisket.

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After Edna shoves a bunch of food in her face, the gang finds out that Negro Day on “The Corny Collins Show” has been cancelled. Tracy has the great idea to protest the television station, and all the black people are like, “Why didn’t we think of that?” Link decides to bow out of the march because there’ll be talent agents at the Miss Hairspray Pageant, and he doesn’t want to give up his big shot at fame and glory to fight for a entire race of people’s basic rights.

The next day, Tracy and her mom are the only white people in a sea of black people to march to the station. Queen Latifah sings a very earnest song about the resilience of her community, because this is the Serious Portion TM of the musical. Tracy assaults a police officer without giving any mind to what it would do for all the black people she’s marching with, and runs away to let them handle the consequences. The movie doesn’t show any police brutality because Reasons, and a bunch of protestors are arrested and immediately bailed out by Tracy’s Dad. Tracy eventually ends up back at Motormouth Maybelle’s record shop so she can hide there without considering how dangerous it would be for Motormouth to harbor a fugitive of the law.

The next day is the Miss Teen Hairspray competition broadcast at WYZT, and with Tracy being wanted by the police, they have to sneak her into the station. She bum-rushes the set to sing a song with a now-enlightened Link about not stopping progress, while also inviting Motormouth Maybelle’s daughter, Little Inez, on stage to dance. Everybody calls-in to vote for her because the only racist people in Baltimore run the television station, and Little Inez is crowned Miss Teen Hairspray. Amber is like fine with it even though her mom isn’t, and everyone dances and sings to celebrate that “The Corny Collins” show is now integrated! Meanwhile, I’m left wondering why Amanda Bynes was forced to wear a dress that she can’t move her legs in, even though they knew she would participate in the show’s closing dance number. The end.

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Oh, and there’s also a whole B plot where Velma tries to fuck Tracy’s dad and Tracy’s mom finds out and gets upset for like 30 seconds. This is immediately resolved by a song and dance number among a bunch of laundry.

This movie is fine and competent or whatever, but for some reason it just rubs me the entirely wrong way. Tracy constantly says that the 1960s are changing for people who are different, implying that an overweight white teen also knows what it’s like to be discriminated against in the same way black people are. The movie does roll its eyes at some of her most tone-deaf “I’m an overenthusiastic ally” moments, like “I wish every day was Negro Day!” and “This is afro-tastic!”, but it also goes out of its way to talk about how much Tracy has helped the black community. Like, by doing what? Being fat and on TV? That being said, she does use her privilege to feature black dancers on a major television broadcast, so by the end of the movie she becomes the person everyone says she is. Also, I’m a dumb, overweight, white, middle-aged woman, so I’m not the right person to get all indignant about a well-intentioned feel-good Broadway musical.

Final thoughts: If you love bright colors, cheese, and sincere, glossy reflections of the 1960s civil rights movement written by a bunch of white dudes, this movie is for you.

#100 best musical movies of all time rotten tomatoes #unwarranted opinion

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jyndor · 4 years ago

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You know, the conversation about sea shanties is just another chapter in what seems like the endless story of people of color, in particular black and indigenous people, telling us to learn the history of the things we like and white people hearing that it means we have to lock those things away forever and burn our books and stamp on our records. As if that isn’t what white people have done to black and indigenous stories, to black and indigenous cultures, to black and indigenous arts, wealth, etc for centuries. As if that is what the people of color who are educating us on the things we like are actually advocating for. News flash: part of the history of oppressors is fearing the tables turning, when that is never been the goal of civil rights and social justice movements. Ever.

So fun fact: I grew up loving good ol’ classic rock n’ roll. My first concert was the Allman Brothers Band, which is one of the most interesting rock bands of all time imo. I really love a good southern twangy jam, the way the guitars sing, the bluesy sunny vibe. Ramblin’ Man? Jessica? Simple Man? Carry On Wayward Son? Hotel California? Perfect fucking driving music if you ask me.

If you know anything about southern rock, you know the iconography - the Confederate Flag is everywhere, in the crowds, for many bands it’s in the album covers and the photoshoots, etc. You know what you get when you wade in the Southern rock water*.

The lyrics from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama have been parsed and interpreted in all kinds of ways -

In Birmingham they love the governor (boo-boo-boo) Now we all did what we could do Now Watergate does not bother me Does your conscience bother you?

And yeah, you could read this as ironic or satirical. In fact, that’s what guitarist and co-writer Gary Rossington says according to NPR -

"A lot of people believed in segregation and all that. We didn't. We put the 'boo, boo, boo' there saying, 'We don't like Wallace,' " Rossington said. But he also added that there were "a lot of different interpretations. I'm sure if you asked the other guys who are not with us anymore and are up in rock and roll heaven, they have their story of how it came about."

And yeah, maybe they didn’t like George Wallace or Nixon. Sure. Whatever. I could buy it, actually. Because this song actually is indicative of how many privileged people feel when they perceive being called out, even if the criticism isn’t about them. Call it wjhat you want - white fragility, white liberal sensitivity, etc. This song was written in response to Neil Young’s Southern Man, which goes:

Southern man, better keep your head Don't forget what your good book said Southern change gonna come at last Now your crosses are burning fast

Southern man I saw cotton and I saw black Tall white mansions and little shacks Southern man, when will you pay them back? I heard screamin' and bullwhips cracking How long? How long? How?

Yeah, writer Ronnie Van Zant was so bothered by Neil Young talking about l*nchings, abject sl*very and reparations in Southern Man, a song that isn’t even about them or Alabama in particular, that he wrote Sweet Home Alabama.

Well I heard Mister Young sing about her Well I heard ol' Neil put her down Well I hope Neil Young will remember A southern man don't need him around anyhow

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm comin' home to you

So ironically, even though Neil Young was just talking to racists in the US South, someone who ostensibly didn’t agree with segregation took that song as a personal attack because he liked “southern culture” and his home state of Alabama, despite its flaws.

But Young never says that the South is irredeemable. He just says white southerners need to come to terms with their history (and yes make reparations). In fact, according to NPR he has some issues with his lyrics. “I didn't like my words when I wrote them. They are accusatory and condescending.” I don’t agree. It needs to be said.

So Van Zant and the Skynyrd guys heard a criticism of white Southern racism and at BEST thought, “well that’s an unfair portrayal of me, a southern white man.” Van Zant can’t answer this question for himself since he died in a plane crash with two other band members and their manager in 1977.

In my opinion, knowing how white people can be when confronted with the reality of racism, this feels a lot like every other time a well-meaning white person (myself included) has said, “but not all white people.”

Not all Southern whites supported segregation at the time, but most did - and all white people benefit from the legacy of sl*very. I might not be a descendant of people who enslaved others, my ancestors might have come here as refugees, but after they fled Ireland for New York, they threw black people under the bus for whiteness.

Rock is a genre that owes everything to Black musicians - to blues and spirituals and gospel and yes, Black work songs. Black history is in the DNA of rock music. That I grew up thinking it was white music is mortifying to be honest.

But I don’t really like Sweet Home Alabama and I never have. It’s kind of just meh to me. Not a big loss.

And that takes me to the Allman Brothers Band. As far as I am aware, ABB (through many, many iterations - this is another band plagued by tragedy) has never been cool with racism. According to Vulture:

The Allmans respected not just black art but black players; as kids, Gregg and Duane got lessons from an older black guitarist their mother once refused to allow into her home, and later, they caught hell having Jaimoe and bassist Lamar Williams in their ranks in their adopted home state of Georgia. “If a musician could play, we didn’t look at his skin color,” Gregg wrote in his 2012 memoir My Cross to Bear.

“Nobody around here had seen guys who looked like them,” soul food legend and friend of the band Mama Louise Hudson said in Alan Paul’s 2014 oral history One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. “A lot of the white folk around here did not approve of them long-haired boys, or of them always having a black guy with them.” Southern rock occupied a peculiar axis of Mason-Dixon pride and reverence to blues and soul veterans who were hampered and harangued by the politics of the South. Gregg always pushed back. He didn’t placate audiences’ blind patriotism and racism the way Charlie Daniels and Hank Williams Jr. have. Last year, he spoke out against North Carolina’s transphobic “bathroom bill,” and when asked about the confederate flag in 2015, he told Radio.com, “If people are gonna look at that flag and think of it as representing slavery, then I say burn every one of them.”

And that is great.

But.

Whipping Post. Written by white ally Gregg Allman, bluesy and wild and passionate on a level that is hard to imagine, this is... one of the greatest songs I have ever heard. And it also makes me wonder if it’s maybe belittling a part of slavery.

My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool But I had to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you I drown myself in sorrow as I look at what you've done But nothing seemed to change, the bad times stayed the same, And I can't run Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel Like I been tied to the whippin' post Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.

Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve researched it, I’ve used google. There isn’t a lot the internet has to say about this song that isn’t “this song fucking slaps man!!!” Maybe part of it is the larger context - Allman was staunchly against racism and was taught by a Black guitarist and played with Black musicians and loved Black music. A white man comparing an emotionally abusive relationship with being whipped might feel different without that context.

(Whipping posts being used for people besides enslaved Black people does not mean Allman wasn’t referencing what Black American slaves experienced, so don’t even go there. I know. The Romans also had slaves. It’s different.)

But if some people of color on the internet critique this song someday, the appropriate response is not to act as if “hey here is where this comes from, please be mindful about historical context and get educated” means “never listen to that devil song again,” folks.

It’s about learning our histories so we can do better in the future. Not canceling entire genres of music. Some things are best left in the past but mostly it’s just about understanding what the things we love mean. And these things are more than their aesthetics.

*I also really, really love African American work songs. Always have.

#cait uses her musical knowledge for once #work songs #sea shanties #this discourse is like one side saying read a book or wikipedia and the other side thinking they are being burned at the stake #history #southern rock #music #racism #colonialism #slavery tw #lynching tw #neil young was right he shouldn't have back tracked #but he's also canadian so like fix your glass house honey

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kyotakumrau · 4 years ago

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2020.09.19 ROCK AND READ 091 - interview with utA - translation PART 1/2

'I'll be damned, what was that?!'

Interview: Yukinobu Hasegawa

Photos: Yosuke Komatsu (ODD JOB LTD.)

Translation: kyotaku You can buy the magazine on amazon, tower records etc ฅ( ̳• ·̫ • ̳ฅ)♡

After Kyo, Takumi and YUCHI from sukekiyo, it’s time for the interview with utA.

He’s experienced white collar work in his hometown Niigata, but couldn’t give up his dream of being in a band, so he moved to Tokyo, his band 9GOATS BLACK OUT attracted attention because of their fantastical music yet then disbanded, but because Kyo had listened to their music utA has started a new episode of his music life.

We ask him about the very start of his interest in music and his life until now.

And then... With many interesting stories like the one about the eerie episode when he came to Tokyo, we can show you utA’s odd music history.

utA / sukekiyo: profile & information

birthday March 26th. joined Kyo’s project sukekiyo as a guitarist in 2013. other members are Kyo (vocal), Takumi (guitar, piano), YUCHI (bass) and Mika (drums). their last release is the video compilation ‘LIQUEFACIO’ with the live footage from their show in Nakano Sunplaza in June 2019.

-- First, I’d like to ask you about the time you got into rock and playing the guitar. Were there any significant bands or guitarists for you when you were young?

utA: I think it was around elementary grade 5 or 6, it was X (-Japan). I was born in Joetsu city in Niigata, there was a CD shop stocked with v-kei and rock stuff there. It was a rural town, but at that time, there was a shop that was selling nothing but rock stuff.

-- It seems to be a quite early to start frequenting CD shops as a elementary school student.

utA: Yeah, I think it was early. I had a friend who was playing the piano, I heard him playing songs like “Silent jealousy” from X, I think that was how I got to know X and their heartrending phrases I love. After that I wanted to hear more from them so I listened to their first indies album “Vanishing Vision”. And then their first major release “BLUE BLOOD”.

-- You weren’t playing the guitar yet when you got to know X as an elementary school student?

utA: It was accidental, but my brother was playing the guitar. I think he liked ZIGGY, JACKSONS’N’JOKER, COLOR, BUCK-TICK etc when I was five. So I have seen my brother playing the guitar at home, but he didn’t influence me at all (laughing). I remember he liked to sing by himself while playing, I have this impression that he was a good singer, but didn’t play the guitar that well (laughing). But we were far apart in age, we weren't that attached, I felt if I just grabbed the guitar I could play. So I borrowed it and fumbled trying to play the songs as I listened to them.

-- But playing the guitar was then just something fun to do?

utA: It was definitely something fun, but I remember entering a music studio around junior high. I briefly started a band with friends. I guess there was no proper shape to it, but I wanted to play some songs, gathered friends and we played “Silent Jealousy”. I played the guitar, I tried really hard with the main phrases and so on. But I really couldn’t play well (laughing). My brother taught me things like A chord or E chord, in basic power chords, things like guitar solos came out very shaky. I recorded that. With a very simple cassette recorder with two buttons, play and record. I have no idea what happened with those cassette tapes, but I’d really kill to listen to them now (laughing).

-- To start a band and use a music studio in the junior high, that's quite remarkable. You were driven this much?

utA: Yeah, by X. I was also attracted by their looks and make up. It's not like all my friends were into the exactly same stuff but there were people who liked music. And there was one music instrument shop, I also went there often. The recording on the cassette tape happened at the end of junior high or start of high school. After X came LUNA SEA. It's a bit hard to explain, but in a way LUNA SEA matched my preferences better. Isn't LUNA SEA a metal band? With INORAN's clean guitar and SUGIZO's distorted guitar, this kind of separation was also novel. I got a shock running through me like 'I'll be damned, what was that?' There is such an awesome clean guitar like that? I though cleanly played super impressive phrases were amazing.

-- Your guitarist opinion was born at that time.

utA: That's right. It was a great impact, from creating sound, through phrases all the way to arrangement. I needed to know how do they get such beautiful sound. Until then I kept thinking that guitar sound should be distorted. I also learnt from music magazines etc that with a delay and chorus you will get a nice effect. And I remember listening to late night radio show "Break Out" or it was in some magazine that SUGIZO advised 'you can get our sound if you use an effector like this'. That's why the first effector I bought was the delay and chorus. My brother had the ones to create distortion, so I only had to add the delay and chorus. I also used my brother's Fender Made in Japan Strato(caster), so it was perfect for clean sounds.

-- So when you became a high school student did you get even more friends interested in music?

utA: I did. I would start talking about music right after coming back home. My home was our hanging out place, people were often surprised by the amount of CDs in my house (laughing). Listening to songs, we watched live DVDs and we all talked about the cool phrases we heard. And then I decided to buy a guitar model used by the artist I liked. So then it was exciting to talk about saving up for one (laughing).

-- You were already using a Stratocaster, but had another guitar you wanted?

utA: Now I know well that Fender’s Strato is a really good guitar, but at that time the look of the guitar was very important, it felt like strato was too simple. And that’s why I bought a guitar used by the artist I haven’t mentioned yet, so it might feel like coming out of nowhere, but it was the model used by Shin from Kuroyume. It was a Les Paul Model that came from GrassRoots, with two single coils. One of my friends was a big fan of Kuroyume so I often listened to their music and really got into Shin’s playing style. Les Paul models have nice shape and they can produce both clean and distorted/dirty sounds, so I decided to get Shin’s model. I was torn if I should get INORAN’s model instead, but it gave an impression of clean sound and because I also wanted to produce distorted sound I went with Shin’s. As a stupid kid your whole evaluation criteria is based on the sound created by the musician, right? Ah, but I just remembered that time I chose single coil. Even though for rock you’re much better off with guitars equipped with Humbucker.

-- You’re using the Fender’s Strato with sukekiyo.

utA: I am. I’m also using a Dragonfly, I’m swapping between them with a tap switch. If I had to say which is better, I like the sound of the single coil. I definitely got influenced by the clean sound created by INORAN. Even now I care a lot when creating clean sounds.

-- When JHS students get into bands and guitars, isn’t it easy for them to get easily misguided? They start to neglect their studies, join some band as a bassist, choose their high school based on the chances of starting a band there and so on.

utA: By some band you mean sukekiyo (laughing)? I don’t have an interesting story here, I really did my best studying as much as I could. My parents were so amazingly kind/supportive so I wanted to make them happy. I still feel like this. I didn’t want to give them any shock (laughing). At that time I remember I often felt they would be happy if I got good test scores. And I simply hate losing. I’m not someone for whom studying comes naturally, so I remember studying extra hard before the tests. In the past we also got ranked (depending on the test scores) so it was another motivation not to lose. But well, I ended up losing (laughing).

-- So you properly continued to high school?

(kyotaku: in Japan compulsory education ends with junior high school at the age of 16; high school is mostly for the sake of going to university.)

utA: If possible I wanted to go to the a good high school, but my teacher told me ‘it might be a close call so it’s better to go there’ (laughing). I went to the school they recommended. It wasn’t a normal high school, it was a technical school.

-- You get specific qualifications. So the course of your future was decided then?

utA: I loved music and guitar, but I didn’t see it as my dream future then. That’s why I was planning on going to university. If not I would be starting work, so I wanted to go to university. At the technical school you learn things like civil engineering or construction. So I applied for the referral to the university that had classes like that, but I was rejected. And I came to hate studying for entrance exams so I gave up on university (laughing).

-- Didn’t Takumi go to the university to study designing?

utA: He did. In this we are a bit similar. Our personalities are totally different, but we definitely share some things like our roots and some points. Takumi managed to go to university though, as I failed to get referred I had to look for another way (laughing).

-- And finally we are talking about starting a band?

utA: No, I started to work full time. At a surveying office in Niigata. I worked there for about 2 years. I hated studying for the entrance exams, but I got the national qualification for surveying. I remember I was thinking that if I have to do it then I have to get it and I was studying like crazy (laughing).

-- When you start working full time I think you shift to a totally different mode from being a student.

utA: Yeah, it was like that. But even as I was doing my best at work, after coming back home from work I was just listening to music all the time. And I spent all the money I earned going to music stores and buying up all the CDs. I had meant to enter a different mode but in the end it wasn’t possible. Most of the bands and musicians who were releasing music at the time were the same age as me, or just a bit older.

-- Did you start to feel a bit envious, feeling more that you could do that as well?

utA: Yeah. I started to write my original songs a bit from the end of HS. I was thinking that if I could make music that was my own style I could make it in music. That feeling has not changed until now.

-- If you were to describe your first original song, what was it like?

utA: Simply saying, it was very influenced by LUNA SEA (laughing). It wasn't a metal song, but it had clean and distorted sounds layered. I created 2~3 songs before I turned 20.

-- Did you do anything wanting to release those songs?

utA: So. I'd made a firm decision to quit my job at surveying office. When quitting I said honestly 'I want to pursue music, so please let me go' (laughing). And then my boss and coworkers cheerfully told me 'then do it!' I even had a farewell party with 'let us know when you release something' (laughing).

-- But for parents, there's no way they reacted like that. Like, 'my son who tried so hard, started working and even got a licence, now wants to quit to do music', there's no way a parent would be happy about that (laughing).

utA: You're right. My parents had a lot to say. It was probably the biggest nagging of my life, seriously. It was worse than puberty (laughing).

-- But you didn't change your mind?

utA: No, the need to pursue music was stronger than that. I quit my company when I was around 20, started to look for band members when I was around 21, when I actually managed to start a band I was around 22~23.

-- Did you try contacting your band mates from elementary and jhs times to network?

utA: I stayed in touch with my classmates, but they totally quit music. There was no way for a deep talk there. That's why I had to do it by myself, in a way starting from zero. First I started to look for band members through the music instrument shops. I've made posters about looking, wrote my contact information, the type of posters where you tear off the bottom bit. The shop staff let me post them in their shops.

-- A simple method. If I remember right, people used to post some self-introduction and a description what kind of band they'd like to do.

utA: I will again add another band name, but I listed X, LUNA SEA and La'cryma Christi. I was also hit hard by La'cryma Christi's worldview. Even as I heard about them quite late, I think after I graduated high school. X, LUNA SEA and La'cryma Christi had the biggest impact on me. My 3 pillars. I absolutely adore La'cryma Christi's "Henseifu". The moment you hear the song doesn't it feel like various scenes just come up?

-- Those scenes are stateless.

utA: Exactly, they are stateless, and full of sadness. When I first heard the 7/8 time signature, I was surprised like 'I'll be damned, what was that?' I was totally owned by that worldview. At that time, La'cryma Christi was my number one. For a while now I've been friends with HIRO, was able to play together with them once and even had a photo shoot together.

-- But currently TAKA is working in a jewellery industry, no? By the way, when you posted your 'looking for band members' ad, how many replies did you get?

utA: There were few, but one came from someone with whom we formed a band at the time. In 2013 my own band had disbanded, but I was most surprised when contacted by the guy who then spent all this time with this band. He asked 'please let me join', but I also asked him formally to join. I'm talking about the bassist, hati.

-- This band we're talking about is the visual kei of Niigata that has changed several times?

utA: Yeah. First it was Laypua, after that Layarch, then Rayarch. It was changing keeping the 'Lay/Ray' connection. The live performance activities were focused on Niigata city.

-- From looking for the band members to the formation of the band it took about one year, during that time were you writing original music ?

utA: I don't think we had more than 10 songs, but we had enough for one album. The band that done those songs took about one year to finally start activities. At the time, there was a music club (live house) near Niigata station called Z-1. I think now it's called CLUB RIVERST., my first live performing experience was at that club.

-- So it was the first show as a band that is the first step in following your dream. What was the response like?

utA: I think it was really terrible (laughing). At the time it was when we just decided our form/style, so we just went with 'let's hope this is cool enough' (laughing). I was looking for guitar phrases that would be very me, but I couldn't play them at all. We were trying really hard only with things to show, we also had heavy make up. For the so called artist photos, our vocalist was very skilled with creating great photos, so there was a lot of 'let's do make up more like this' etc, so at the meetings of band members the topic of the vusuals came overwhelmingly more often than music (laughing).

-- Your songs were similar style to La'cryma Christi?

utA: Nope, I loved La'cryma Christi, but our music was more like 'The Visual Kei' style. For our worldview, it felt like there's still more to come. It was quite heavy rock, could be said it was Tsutatsuta-kei (laughing). I was playing in this band in Niigata until I went to Tokyo, for about 4, 5 years.

(*Tsutatsuta-kei was a v-kei subgenre that developed in the early 2000s, as you can imagine from utA's comment it's heavy and fast; and like Nu Metal that influenced the subgenre there's a lot of shouting, and unconventional structures and variety of different styles)

-- If you continued for that long it means you had to have some fans?

utA: In Niigata we did, yeah. I felt 'I can do it' as it wasn't a band with no fans, so from the band's later time I started thinking about going to Tokyo. In Niigata what we could do was limited. So I told the band 'let's go to Tokyo, but most of members wanted to stay in Niigata. Each of them had their own life there.

-- Did other band members have proper jobs?

utA: Nah, everyone was working part-time. All of us prioritized the band. That's why I suggested we should go to Tokyo, but only me and hati, the bassist, were interested. And we left our home Niigata with guitar and bass for Tokyo having only about 40~50k yen between the two of us.

(*400~500 US dollars, 300~400 euro)

PART 2 HERE

#sukekiyo #utA #interview #rock and read #rock and read 091 #translation #9GOATS BLACK OUT

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earnestly-endlessly · 5 years ago

Note

Could you please rec cherik fics where they still have powers but being mutant is well accepted? (Kind of like the Daycare Verse by brillingspoons) THANK U SO MUCH YOURE INCREDIBLE

Hi anon, of course I have a list for you. I am so sorry for the delay. I have been super busy lately with work and home renovations, but I’m back and I have a looong list for you. Now, the nature of x-men as a parallel of the very real fight of minority groups for civil rights makes it pretty hard to find fics where everyone accepts mutants.That’s actually why I love the x-men, because they represent the fight of those who are ostracised. So, some of these might have some social commentary, but the main focus does not lie there. Also, if you love the Daycare Verse check out pocky_slash’s fics (who actually wrote the majority of the Daycare Verse).

------

Cherik ´Still Have Powers Modern AU´ Fic Recs

irreconcilable differences (make for surprisingly good bedfellows) – pocky_slash

Summary: Tonight on The Evening Report with Malcolm Stevens, noted geneticist and mutant equality proponent Dr. Charles Xavier faces off with the infamous mutant rights activist Magneto in a live televised debate over the Genetic Nondiscrimination Act.

(At least, if they can stop flirting long enough to stay on topic.)

Words and Pictures – pocky_slash

Summary: When Lorna's powers manifest early, Charles Xavier's mutant picture books are the perfect teaching tool. Erik just hadn't expected the author to be so young. Or attractive. Or available.

For the Record – endingthemes

Summary: As prominent figures in the mutant rights movement, activists Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are pretty much household names. When a romance scandal between them breaks, their celebrity reaches new heights, and though the increased exposure is great, there’s a big problem -- the two of them are just friends.

Too bad no one believes them.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

(Another segment of this series is posted under the Cookie Cutter fic collection - thanks again, Takmarierah!)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

You Show Me Yours - endingthemes

Summary: When Erik receives nudes in the middle of the night from an unknown number, he's confused and mildly amused. He doesn't expect it to turn into an actual conversation...with feelings.

As if that's not baffling enough, his friend's brother ends up crashing at his place, further complicating everything.

Some Such Place (The Big Screen Classics Remix) - Pocky_Slash

Summary: Erik's spent the last eighteen months having lengthy socio-political conversations and casual sex with Charles Xavier after seeing Monday matinees at a dingy little independent movie theatre in the Village. That doesn't mean they're friends. Or that Erik should have any say in what Charles is going to do with his future.

(At least, that's what Erik keeps telling himself.)

Into Your Tar, Honey - tomato_greens

Summary: Really, Alex doesn’t know why he’s in the damn class.

(Or, the one in which Charles teaches an online Introduction to Biology course, and Alex reads more than he expected to.)

Heli Cases - Black_Betty

Summary: "Heli Cases" is a program on PBS whose aim is to educate on the rapidly increasing occurrence of genetic mutation in the general populous by breaking the complex science down into palatable, easy to digest pieces.

It is also the only thing that helps Erik get his fussy daughter to fall asleep.

(Featuring Dadneto, baby Lorna and the struggles of single fatherhood, and Charles as the host of a late night show about genetics.)

Bound - FuryRed

Summary: Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

An Exercise in Frustration – ikeracity

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr's latest critically-acclaimed film Shame features a full-frontal nudity scene. His long-suffering husband Charles is really very peeved about it.

Eyes on Fire - Black_Betty

Summary: Every once in a while, fashion tycoon Emma Frost invites her favourite male models over to entertain her. And by "entertain", I mean she makes them have kinky consensual sex in front of her....Emma never touches herself when she watches, but she always has a glass of wine with her. Emma likes it best when they eventually forget that she's watching.

Charles and Erik meet each other through Emma...

(I've taken some liberties with the prompt, but all the sex is still there, and it's wholly consensual...and gradually, becomes more than just sex...)

Order Up - ikeracity

Summary: Charles has a terrible habit of multitasking, and that is probably why he absentmindedly tells the pizza man that he loves him when hanging up.

Then the pizza man says it back. And Charles is pretty much smitten from there.

Some Assembly Required - manic_intent

Summary: "Alex and Hank were two teenagers who frequently fight in school. One fight got so bad that the principal called in their fathers (as both came from single-parent families)/ guardians for a conference. This was how Charles and Erik meet."

Limited Release - rageprufrock

Summary: When Alex Summers broke out of supermax to rescue his stupid kid brother, he had no idea it was going to be so fucking complicated.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

PART 2 of Math Reasons

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

apple season – pocky_slash

Summary: "You know," Charles says while they're sitting around the kitchen table reading the paper, "You should take Anya apple picking."

"Don't you mean 'we?'" Erik responds. The silence that follows is enough to make him re-examine his own apple picking memories a little more closely. Uneven ground littered with apples, tree roots, holes, and narrow passage between rows of orchard trees. "Oh," he says.

rooms/shares – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik is single, working a cube job he hates, letting his master's degree in mutant studies collect dust, and living on his best friend's couch. When she kicks him out, he's forced to trawl Craigslist for the least-offensive rooming option within his meagre budget. He never expects a response from the persnickety, high maintenance ad he replies to as a joke, but it's possible this too-nice apartment and mysteriously absent roommate might be the answer to all four of his problems.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

Tough little baby telepath – aesc, pearl_o

Five Part Series

Summary: Teenage telepath Charles Xavier takes a job as a consultant, working with prickly police detective Erik Lehnsherr. Charles is used to being on his own and taking care of himself; he has no reason to think that his relationship with this stern, icy man is going to change any of that.

Frosted hearts – aesc, palalife

Summary: Emma Frost has 99 problems, but a date ain't one. Specifically, she has no time to play the dating game--which is fine with her, because she'd much rather run it instead. From a set of sleek, silver and white offices on Fifth Avenue and with her trusty, stylish, and silent partner Janos Quested, Emma has built Frosted Hearts into New York City's premiere dating service, built on the principle that money, and a sufficiently rigorous psionic scan, can, in fact, buy you love.

Somewhere in Frosted Hearts's server is one Charles Xavier, genius and geneticist, with the kind of nicely-starched good looks that sell well on brochures for New England prep schools. He's also a telepath who's decided to give up pursuing serious relationships and instead spend his thirties doing what he should have done as a teenager: have a lot of sex with random people. Fortunately for him, Erik Lehnsherr, metallokinetic and engineering executive, has absolutely no time in his heart or his schedule for anything more serious than... well, absolutely nothing romantic at all.

Mercy of the Fallen (the AirDrop Security Update 2.0) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr feels defined by his past sins and after years of acting against his own moral compass, he's finally struck out on his own. He's his own boss now, and determined to work hard to help the mutant community and make up for years of doing someone else's dirty work.

Complicating this is Charles Xavier, mutant advocate, genetics professor, unfairly attractive telepath, and owner of the coffee shop below Erik's office. Erik may not think he deserves to be a part of the community he's thrown himself into helping, but Charles has other ideas on the matter, and he's determined to do everything in his power to make Erik see himself as a force for good.

you follow and i’ll lead – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: When Charles discovers how frustrated and self-conscious his best friend Erik is about his ignorance about sex, he's eager to volunteer to help teach him and practice. Charles might not have any more direct experience than Erik, but he does have a telepath's mind full of accidentally picked-up fantasies and memories, as well as knowledge of a few dirty books - and more importantly, he's been madly in love with Erik for years. This seems like a brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he can't pass up.

Now he just needs to manage to keep his feelings in check, and not ruin their friendship forever.

Snail Mail – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex isn't thrilled when his boss, Erik, starts sending him to hand deliver notes to Erik's husband up at the university--that is, until he sees the Professor's hot new TA, and suddenly, the notes can't come fast enough. If only Alex could work up the guts to ask him out....

this is life (and everything’s all right) – pocky_slash

Summary: Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....

Watching the Detectives – Clocks

Summary: Detectives Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are good friends and colleagues. However, when they go undercover at a Christmas party to nab a prime suspect, Erik keeps reminding himself to stay professional and ignore feelings of unexpected jealousy.

Student/Teacher Relations – PoorMedea

Summary: As a TA, Charles knows he can't get involved in all his students' lives. He needs to keep professional boundaries, to make sure that he's an authority figure. But when he accidentally finds out how complicated Erik Lehnsherr's home life is, he suddenly finds that distance hard to maintain.

Fill for the prompt: Erik is the teen dad of adorable baby!Lorna. I just want teen!Erik being a dad, with adorable interactions between him and his baby. Angst is good too since there's always going to be some in such situations, but mainly I want to see teen dad Erik being an awesome dad who loves the hell out of his daughter despite whatever else may be going on.

Conspiracy of Kisses – Alaceron

Summary: Seven-year-old Erik needs to keep his telepathic best friend Charles from finding out that he wants to kiss him. But that's okay, because he has a plan - he'll put on a tinfoil hat.

Favorite Mistake – endingthemes

Summary: Charles Xavier doesn’t think anything of it when he sneaks out without even saying goodbye to his latest one-night stand. What he doesn’t expect is to walk into his new position in the Xavier Industries marketing department and find that his latest hook-up is now his new boss.

Never Take Biology for Granite – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: Charles is an internet celebrity who garners his fame from posting educational, in-depth videos about a different animal every week, though for some reason his viewers are always more interested in his sex life with his geologist husband, Erik, who happens to frown heavily upon all living things.

Except for Charles, of course, whom he's missed these past couple days while attending a geologic convention--though considering the subject material of Charles' newest video, he's wishing he would've stayed away longer.

This Is Not Comedy – baehj2915

Summary: Written for amarriageoftrueminds' prompt for a Cherik version of Louis CK's tangent about the fuckability of Ewan McGregor.

Naturally the similarities end there. I made this about Erik's full on public lust-filled gay revelation, and the chaos that spirals from there.

Snowed In – dedkake

Summary: Charles and Erik have a one night stand, but a blizzard traps them in Erik's apartment afterward.

#cherik fic recs #fic recs #still have powers AU #cherik #asks #earnestly answers #as always I can't make short lists #sorry about that #long post

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sidecarghost · 4 years ago

Text

Suptober20 - Day 27 Banquet

Destiel Fic Summary: Hurt & Comfort, AU where Castiel rebelled against Heaven 10,000 years ago, and he meets an injured Dean that had fallen in a ravine after having a manic episode. And maybe Banquet theme is stretch but I was kind of inspired by theme to do a Little Match Girl adaptation. Ending is happy fluff.

Castiel held his last 3 feathers in his grip, gingerly stroking them between his fingers. He had fallen, and those feathers were all that remained of his former life as an angel of the lord. Castiel had rebelled against Heaven ten thousand years ago. Before that he had been a warrior of Heaven since the dawn of Creation, and he had led armies into battle against demons and abominations. But as the species of homo sapiens began settling into larger towns and developing civilizations, he was called in to the intelligence department of Heaven for reassignment.

The Host wanted more intelligence gathered on humanity. Castiel would have the honor of gathering intelligence for them, because of his stellar record as a loyal soldier that followed orders without compunction. Unfortunately, for angels like Naomi, it seemed that Castiel had a lot of compunction when it came to humanity. After finding a vessel in Mesopotamia, Castiel began his spy work with little concern for the humans that droned around him like ants. But slowly Castiel’s attitudes shifted, and he saw a lot to admire in the people that struggled to do their best when it was so easy to do your worst. After Naomi told Castiel to kill all the first-born children in a village because it was God’s will, Castiel decided he was done performing God’s will. And he fell.

Without angel grace or a soul to burn, Castiel had discovered he could still use his feathers to perform angel magic. Every time he grew old enough for death, he burned another feather to return to youth. He had burned feathers to save friends, and he had burned feathers to smite villains. He burned feathers to change his body throughout the ages to fit in wherever he found himself. He had been male and female and every race and creed. Castiel took one of the black, beautiful feathers and dropped it in a bowl. He reached his wrinkled hands into a cabinet drawer and grasped on to a lighter. The arthritis in his bones made flicking the lighter on difficult. But on the third attempt, a flame sparked and Castiel set the feather on fire.

Castiel’s wrinkles smoothed away in an instant, and Castiel thought he would call his new form that of a holy tax accountant. Castiel had witnessed the marvel of the 20th century as a Caucasian female, and he thought he would try male Caucasian with dark, unruly hair, and blue eyes for the 21st century. Castiel also considered the likely probability that this form would be his final one on Earth given his depleted feather inventory. He tucks his two remaining feathers back in his wings where they immediately reattached themselves. Long ago, Castiel had used up too many feathers to teleport, but he had sacrificed them for friends so Castiel didn’t mind the loss. He had thought he would live forever as an angel, and after he fell, he thought he would be dead in a week. Getting to live among humanity for ten thousand years was an unexpected gift. He reaches into his pants’ pocket and pulls out his new wallet. His new body came with new forms of identification. He is Castiel Novak, and he is 25 years old and a CPA.

Sam was a mess over his brother Dean. His brother had moved in with Jessie and him a few months ago, because he couldn’t hold a job. Dean had lost his driving license from a DWI. And Sam wanted to take care of his brother because his brother had always been there to take care of him. But at this point, Sam felt like he was just enabling Dean, and any effort to protect Dean was just hurting him in the long run. Dean had stolen Jessie’s jewelry to pawn for money. After he had spent all that money on alcohol, Dean shoplifted all the bottles of mouthwash he could fit in his coat from a grocery store. That was when Sam got the phone call from the police department. Dean asked him to come bail him out. Sam told his brother no. Dean yelled at him over the phone, but it was all noise to Sam. Sam’s heart was broken and he couldn’t make sense of the words coming from his brother. Sam couldn’t save his brother, but he could at least set barriers for his own protection.

Castiel drives up to the office park where he works. He shuts his car door and sets the alarm. He hears the chirp of the alarm and begins to head into his office building. But he thinks he hears a whine, like a hurt animal from the other side of the guardrail along the parking lot. Castiel leans over the guardrail looking for the source of the noise and calls out to whatever is below.

“Help! Fuck, down here,” a voice calls back.

“What are you doing down there?” Castiel asks.

“Fucking fell, please God don’t leave me here,” the voice breaks up in emotion.

The other side of the embankment is a ravine with a twenty-foot vertical fall. Castiel has to come around from another side of the parking lot to make it to the bottom of the ravine without injury. On his way around, he takes out his cell phone and immediately dials for emergency assistance. When the emergency operator answers he tells them he found an injured man that fell down a ravine and requires medical attention. He gives the operator the address, and she tells him that an ambulance is on his way. The operator stays on the phone with Castiel, and he tells her he needs to put his phone away to climb down to the injured man. The emergency operator tells him to keep the line open so he can tell her about his condition when he gets closer.

Castiel has climbed to the bottom of the ravine and asks the man if he is alright.

“No, I can’t fucking move my legs,” the man tells him. “I fell here two days ago. And I can’t believe you are real. I had given up hope, are you God or an angel?”

“My name is Castiel,” Castiel tells the man whose body is resting at an impossible angle.

“My name is Dean,” the injured man says and attempts to smile.

Castiel pulls the phone from his pocket and leaves the operator on speakerphone. “The man appears to have a spinal injury, and he says he can’t move his legs,” he tells the operator.

“Don’t attempt to move him until the paramedics arrive,” Castiel is warned over the phone.

“I called an ambulance, Dean. They should arrive to help you soon.” Castiel says.”Can you tell me what happened?”

“I was just feeling so good for the first time in a long time,” Dean responds. “Just goddamn great like for no fucking reason. I left my apartment, and I just needed to run. I saw this guardrail and just the idea of jumping it took hold, and then I ran, and I jumped over. Then I realized it was a mother fucking cliff on the other side. I didn’t have my goddamn phone on me, so at first I wondered how long it would be before anyone found me. But after a while, I just wanted to be dead and get it over with.”

“I’m sorry Dean. The pain you are suffering through now must be tremendous,” Cas says sympathetically.

“Fuck it is. And I didn’t get why my legs wouldn’t move after I fell. I just thought I knocked the wind out of me. But they are still useless. I had to drag my body using only my arms to this filthy puddle, so I could drink. My brother told me I’d have to hit bottom to get better. And I laughed in his face. But it is fucking scary, Cas. You seem like a straight-edge, so take my advice and don’t be a fuck up like me. Keep up your job and be a good husband and tell your kids the cautionary tale of the guy you saved from falling off a cliff,” Dean tells Castiel.

“I don’t think you are a fuck up, Dean,” Castiel says.

“Jesus, you are either the world’s most understanding person or a fantastic liar. I am stuck here in literally my own shit. And God, I don’t want to die. I’m so fucking glad you found me. I heard your voice and I figured Heaven sent an angel and I was going to miss Sammy, but at least the angel was hot so maybe going to Heaven wouldn’t be that bad. I’m sorry if I’m getting you in trouble with your job. You look like a good guy, and I don’t want to drag you down. I just ruin everything,” Dean rambled.

“No, I’m glad I found you too, Dean. And I won’t leave your side if you want me to stay,” Castiel says.

“I don’t know why but I’m so glad you want to stay Cas,” Dean tells him. “I drive everyone away though, so I won’t be upset when you leave. But right now it makes me really happy that you are here.”

Castiel considers the broken man in front of him and his last two feathers. Dean is staring in to Castiel’s face like he is trying to memorize every detail of it in case he wakes up to learn it was all just a dream, and he is still trapped at the bottom of the ravine, cold, hurt, and alone.

Castiel asks Dean to tell him his last happy memory.

Dean responds without an instant’s hesitation, as though it had been something that he had just been replaying in his mind the past two days on auto-repeat. “Thanksgiving 2005, Sam and I were at Bobby and Ellen’s for Thanksgiving feast. It was perfect. We were all together like a family. The next day Sam told me he was planning on going to law school at Stanford, and I just didn’t cope. I thought he was abandoning me, and I don’t know I just gave up and I couldn’t admit that I wasn’t coping well. I just tried to bury every feeling that I had with alcohol to numb the pain. I lost my license, and I couldn’t keep a job. Sam tried to support me, but I just lied and stole from him.

“I have been thinking a lot about that Thanksgiving. I had been a mess before that too, but after that I just gave up trying. I never dealt with anything in a healthy way. I wish I could tell 2005 Dean to be kinder to me. To look for help, and to admit I wasn’t coping on my own. I’d wish he would have a better than life than me.”

“I can grant you that,” Castiel slowly tells Dean.

“You can grant me that?” Dean looks questioningly at Castiel.

“I am not an angel, but I was a long, long time ago. I have two feathers left and I can use one to send you back and another to fix your body and remove your traumatic memories,” Castiel tells Dean.

“Holy shit! For real? That would be so awesome,” Dean looks up at Castiel. “But I can’t accept it.”

“What? Why not Dean?” Castiel asks tilting his head and squinting at Dean.

“Because those are your magic feathers. And you can’t spend your last two on a fuck up like me. You should end world hunger or wish yourself a better fitting trench coat,” Dean says.

“It would take a lot more than burning two feathers to end world hunger. And I like the way my trench coat fits,” Castiel responds. “I have made my peace with this being my final form. And I’d like to use my final feathers to bring someone else joy.”

“Well, I won’t go back to 2005. I don’t want to leave you,” Dean says.

Surprisingly, even though Castiel has lived with humans for ten thousand years, he had never really fallen in love with anyone. Maybe because he had burned through so many feathers now, he was able to fall in love for the first time. Castiel didn’t know how else to describe the way talking to Dean made his heart feel like it was being clenched in a fist.

“Is that the only reason Dean?” Castiel asks quietly.

“Yeah, if I wasn’t stuck here in my own piss and shit. I would definitely be flirting pretty hard right now,” Dean tells Castiel. “And I think a second chance sounds wonderful, but I think you are wonderful too. And if I get to have a choice I would choose you.”

“What if I went to 2005 with you Dean?” Castiel asks while holding Dean’s gaze steadily.

“Yeah, if you can come back to 2005, that would be just so awesome Cas. You are such a straight-edge like my brother Sammy. You will love him. You will love Bobby and Ellen Singer too. They raised my brother and me, after my mom died and my alcoholic dad took off,” Dean tells Castiel.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, we can both go back then. I can heal your body, but I won’t have enough magic to clear your painful memories. So you’ll remember the past 15 years and all the pain and trauma you’ve experienced,” Castiel tells him.

“S’Okay Cas, falling helped me find you,” Dean says softly.

Castiel can faintly hear the sound of the ambulance sirens now. He reaches for his last two feathers, and he pulls a lighter from his pocket. Dean watches the proceedings, with a look that seems skeptical as to whether his new friend actually has supernatural abilities or is just bat shit crazy.

Castiel mumbles some Enochian, and he sets the feathers on fire. Dean blinks and he is standing in front of Bobby’s house with his hand in Castiel’s.

“Holy Shit! I can stand,” Dean beams at Castiel. Castiel’s final magic had transformed Dean physically back into the 26 year old he had been in 2005. He wasn’t sure what happened to 2005 Dean, maybe he just popped out of existence. Time travel always messed with Cas, and he was happy this had been his last time travelling through time.

“So you told me all about an amazing feast waiting for us here. Are you going to invite me in, or did you oversell it?” Castiel deadpans.

“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Dean teases. Dean walks through the door leading Castiel by the hand. “Bobby! Ellen! I’m home!” Bobby and Ellen burst through to the entryway, and Dean gathers both of them in tremendous hugs.

“Whoa, Dean,” Ellen chuckles, “We just saw you this morning, but I do like the affection. I was just telling Bobby I thought you had been acting so withdrawn lately. So I’m glad to see you so happy.”

“Don’t be rude, Dean,” Bobby chides. “Are you going to introduce us to your guest?”

“Castiel, this is Bobby and Ellen Singer. They have raised my brother and me since we were little, and they are officially the world’s greatest parents,” Dean says. “And Bobby and Ellen, this is Castiel. He is awesome, and well we haven’t really talked about what we are to each other yet…”

“I was thinking boyfriend, if you’d like Dean,” Castiel says smiling softly to Dean.

“Yeah, Cas I would really like that,” Dean smiles back. Then Dean turns to Bobby and Ellen who have been watching the two of them talk with some amusement. “Castiel is my boyfriend.”

“In that case, welcome to the family,” Bobby tells Castiel and pulls the young man into a hug. Ellen tells Bobby not to smother the poor thing, and then she pulls Castiel into an even bigger hug. “Oh yeah, and you call me the smotherer.” Bobby chuckles.

“Come on, boys. Jo, Sam, and Jessie are all in the living room. They will be so excited to meet you Castiel,” Ellen says.

“Okay, we will catch up in a minute,” Dean responds. Bobby and Ellen head back towards the kitchen to finish the meal preparations. Once Dean and Castiel are alone, Dean turns to face Castiel, “Are you sure you are okay with this Cas?” Dean asks. “Like I was kind of out of my mind in pain when you found me, but you don’t have to be stuck with me. I’m not going to let myself fall this time. I’m going to admit I need help, and I’m not going to waste my second chance.”

“Well, I’m out of feathers so there is no going back now. But no, I guess this sounds weird since I just met you, but I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you, if that’s okay.” Castiel confesses.

“Whoa, those are some good lines Cas,” Dean smiles. Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean, and Dean laughs good naturedly. “Yeah, I was just kidding. That is probably the most earnest thing I’ve ever heard, but I kind of feel the same way about you. I’m not sure if it’s a real thing, or just because you know you swooped in like a literal angel to save my life just now. But I’d like to find out.”

“Dean, are you going to keep your boyfriend all to yourself or are you coming to the living room so we can all meet him?” Jo yells across the house to Dean.

Dean grins and offers out a hand for Castiel to hold, “Ready to have your mind blown by the best Thanksgiving dinner of all time?”

“Yes, I’m ready,” Castiel nods. After wandering the Earth for ten thousand years, Castiel thinks he has found something that he never knew he was missing. He feels like he found his soulmate, and he holds on to the hand Dean offers and hopes that he never has to let it go.

#suptober20 #destiel #destiel fic #spn

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sunflowerhae · 4 years ago

Note

She plays bass with jaehyun pls!! Also your music taste is *chefs kiss*

| 📣 > > ty! I quite like my music taste as well🥳😌 follow my spotify if u wanna see my playlists lmao (( @coolangelgwen - lowkey hate myself for this one but no regrets, right?!? )) I tried to make a more realistic conversation style, but idk how I feel abt it. Lemme know! Also~~ last thing, I promise - this isn’t proofread lol so sorry if it’s bad

Send in your own requests! 🧚🏻‍♀️🐮

“Hey, won't you call me back? ‘Cause I've been waiting for a text back. It hurts my brain - This chick who plays bass”

“Jesus Jaehyun, simp much?” Jaehyun reluctantly drew his line of sight from the unlit screen of his phone to the eyes of his best friend.

“What? No, what do you mean?” Johnny rolled his eyes and glanced around the coffee shop the two currently sat in, not focusing his attention on anything specific, before returning his gaze back on the hopeless romantic in front of him.

“I know you’re waiting for her to text you.” At the ~truthful~ words thrown across the table in humor, Jaehyun rolled his own eyes with a “psh” - trying to play off the fact that Johnny was unfortunately right.

“Her” was in fact Y/l/n Y/n, a girl he met at the NCT party that his frat held the previous night. Jaehyun didn’t usually enjoy or attend them, but he had a feeling (some unknown feeling) that he should maybe go to this one, so he found a calming spot in a corner, hunkered down with a beer and a bowl of chips, and prayed that the party would end soon. Friends came by and talked to him, girls came by to seduce him, but Jaehyun’s ass stayed firmly cushioned on his seat in that little, calming corner.

The corner just so happened to be near the food table, so people were coming and going; you were not privy to this fact. You - much like Jaehyun - didn’t usually attend these events. It wasn’t that you had anything against them, you just felt there were better ways to spend your nights. However, Haechan - your best friend - practically begged you to come, stating that,

“it’d be nice to have at least one other cool person there!” And when the younger boy used his pouting charms on you, you found yourself agreeing to his request.

It was lame, though. Haechan had been stuck like glue to you the whole night, prancing you around to his frat brothers and with the obnoxious, “see - I told you she was real!”, he enjoyed seeing the fire of joy ignite in his brothers eyes the more they got to know you. Haechan claimed it was because you were quite known on campus for being the cool, quiet skater girl with good fashion, and everyone who had a conversation with you came out better because of it. You would just respond that he was the Leslie to your Ann (which he would just laugh at, joking that he has scrapbooks of your friendship - thus scaring you more). What was lame, was the party. There was no reason or organization, which you didn’t really care about, you just hated the amount of people, thus lessening the amount of air flow. One glance at the food table that had basically no one by it, and you were telling hyuck you were going to get food and heading that way.

When Jaehyun first saw you, his mind immediately registered who you were. Y/n. The girl that skated through campus, and had dyed hair, and always had butterfly clips in. He had always wanted to meet you, but was never courageous enough to act on it. It was funny, girls practically killed for a conversation with him, yet the one girl he actually wanted, never even looked his way.

That was until now.

You turned your body out to the crowd and glanced around; eyes landing on the little, calming corner, and on the boy who was already looking straight at you. You knew him. Jaehyun. A lot of people liked him, but you specifically knew him as a member of this frat.

“Hi!” You smiled, and he looked surprised that you were even talking to him.

“Hey,” he waved back, “y/n, right?”

You moved closer to him, “yeah, Jaehyun, right? You know Haechan.”

“Oh, yeah I do. You know Haechan?”

“He’s my best friend.” You both nodded at this, but Jaehyun looked a bit surprised.

“Wow, how do you know Haechan? Aren’t you older?”

“I mean, yeah. How do you know I’m older?” You had a playful tone, which calmed Jaehyun’s nerves a bit.

“Oh, we have a class together. Environmental Impact on Civilization with Professor Cilinado?” Your eyes went wide, and even with the strobe lights going off, Jaehyun could see the blush that projected itself onto your cheeks.

“Shit, that’s right. Hi!” You both laughed, “um, I don’t know, Haechan just kind of came up to me once and started talking like we’ve known each other for years and I went along with it, and I guess the rest is history.” The memory of meeting your best friend made a smile cross onto your face, and Jaehyun couldn’t help but think you were beautiful.

“Yeah, that seems like him. Weird I’ve never met you, though.”

“Yeah, I don’t really come to this stuff.”

“Same, what do you like to do?”

“Um..listen to music, I like to play my bass, skate, I guess.”

“Wow, you play bass?” Jaehyun’s eyes went wide in surprise, and you laughed at his taken aback expression.

“Yeah, why, do I seem like someone who wouldn’t?” Jaehyun felt idiotic for once more saying something insensitive, but you, again, had a smile on your face.

“No! Yes? I’m not sure, it’s just always cool to hear that someone plays an instrument. And the bass is so cool.”

You start to respond, but turn your head instead at the sound of Haechan calling your name. “Well, can’t keep the devil waiting. Speaking of, if you want you can get my number from Haechan, text me!” Jaehyun eagerly nods, but you’re already walking away; your back turned around.

Johnny has to literally snap his fingers in front of Jaehyuns face to shake him from the memory of last night, and the moment Jaehyun saw Johnnys amused face, he knew he was caught.

“What’d I say - simp.”

“She plays bass, she plays bass. Nothing matters 'cause we're both in space”

Y/n (4:57pm) hey Jaehyun! I’m happy u texted me! Yesssss let’s totally do something together!! What did u have in mind??

And that’s how you and Jaehyun - basically strangers - ended up on the hood of his car at 1 am; eating chicken nuggets from McDonald’s and looking at the stars together.

“Everyone knows the buffalo sauce is the best, Jaehyun!” He laughed at your counter argument, but shook his head none the less.

“No, honey mustard is superior!”

“No, because you could get that anywhere-“

“-you could get buffalo anywhere! And why is it orange, and why does it taste the way it does?” You were both laughing in between arguing your respective sides, and if it weren’t for the slightly uncomfortable position of laying on the hood of a car, this moment would have been picture perfect (but really, it was anyway).

You were thankful that the college you went to wasn’t directly in the city, so when Jaehyun picked you up and drove to a good star gazing place, it was easy to see the night sky.

“Sometimes, I like to close my eyes and imagine I’m floating in space. It feels kind of trippy.” Jaehyun turned his head at the sound of your voice, but you continued staring at the sky.

“How do you do that?” He asked.

“Well, I have to be in a completely dark and silent room. Then, I just unfocus my gaze and I don’t move my body at all. It’s how people become, uh..Jesus what’s the word? When they get like, controlled?-“

“-hypnotized?”

“Yeah! I watched a video where he hypnotized the crowd and the viewers to see their past life - it was crazy.” Through out your small speech, you waved your hands a lot, and Jaehyun took notice of the fact that you spoke with your hands; it was something small, but he tucked it into the back of his head, and kept it to think about for when he needed to smile.

“What was your past life?”

“I lived at an old korean palace - like 19th century. I wasn’t a high position, but I was wealthy. I wore red a lot.”

“Send me the link?” You finally turned to lock eyes with Jaehyun.

“Yes, of course.” You both smiled at each. Nothing was said, but both of you could practically feel yourselves making room for each other in your hearts, the longer you sat on the hood of Jaehyun’s car; staring at the stars.

“How I wish we could just date - So you can teach me how to be more like you”

Jaehyun could feel himself fidgeting slightly while he waited for you to open the door to your apartment. After gazing at the stars, you offered him a tour of your place and a beer or two, and Jaehyun didn’t admit it, but he didn’t care if you said you wanted to kill someone - he would have agreed if it meant spending more time with you.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess! I was going to clean it on Wed...” your voice continued going, but the farther you walked away, the less Jaehyun heard it, so he just chose to instead look around the main area of your apartment, and what he found left him in awe.

A black bass sat snugly in the corner of your living room, surrounded by plants. Behind your couch framed, vintage movie posters decorated the wall, and fairy lights, records, and books sat on the shelf above your tv.

You came out of the kitchen with a wine bottle and two glasses, and you sat them down on the coffee table while Jaehyun took a seat on your couch. “I like your apartment.”

You looked back at him with a smile while pouring yourselves drinks, and sat down next to him while laughing, “thanks. Like I said, it’s kind of messy,” you paused to take a drink, “But it’s home. Bleh, wine makes me feel old.” Jaehyun nodded while laughing, and the air became thick with quietness, which teetered between awkward and calm leniently. Jaehyun - as slyly as he could - stared at your side profile while you started talking about the movie posters hanging behind you. You had an aura of chill vibes, and it seemed that whatever you talked about, you managed to make interesting. Jaehyun was debating whether he wanted to date you, or be you, until he came to the conclusion that he wanted to date you so he could learn to be like you. Although it was the beginning of what he hoped was a new relationship, Jaehyun already had so much respect for you, and as you joked around with him about whatever the two of you could think of, Jaehyun’s excitement for the the future held only increased more and more.

Past life video

That was my actual past life btw! Lemme know what y’all get 😩 also just go on the website if you get a lot of ads - bc that can fuck w ur hypnotization! It’s not scary, I promise. The dude has a super nice voice. It’s vv trippy. If you’re a skeptic - do it anyway. Worst case scenario, you get a good laugh.

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talpup · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 85

“You done heaving there, Teris? Good. Run.” Greywright barked, not waiting for answer.

Hands on knees Teris glared over at the Magic Knights Commander. Greywright sat on the ground, legs kicked out, ankles crossed. Straight arms propping him up, the Commander's head lolled forward, eyes closed. The only reason he knew she had stopped running was because one of the three magically created army men that stood guard around the fields perimeter had seen.

Even though it was an hour or so before sunrise and the spring air was chill, Teris was overheated. She was soaked through with sweat and exhausted. They all were. Greywright had them work till they were about to fall over, gave them a ten minute break, and made them work some more. They had been at it all night. Running. Holding their arms out at their sides. In Yami’s case holding weights. And all sorts of other physical exercises. There wasn’t a muscle in Teris’ body that didn’t ache. There were muscles Teris hadn’t known she had that ached.

One of Greywright’s army men appeared behind Teris. It grabbed her by the back of her tank top, her button up blouse long since discarded, and moved her along.

“Run.” Greywright commanded, mercilessly.

Nozel passed her as her feet slowly began to move. The cold, distant look he’d been giving her at the start of their torture session was long gone. The Silver Eagles eyes were now glazed over with fatigue, pain, and a dazed focus as he endeavored to put one foot in front of the other and not fall over.

Teris saw Yami up ahead. He wasn’t struggling as bad as Fuegoleon, Nozel, and she. Though Yami had slowed considerably and took multiple stutter steps as he jogged. Just before completing another circuit Teris paused to help Fuegoleon to his feet. Nozel reached them and extended a hand to the Crimson Lion, the two pulling Fuegoleon to his feet.

“That’s enough. Come on over.” Greywright called, seeing the charitable act.

Yami cut across the field and saw some of the gouges that Teris and he had made during their first year as Magic Knights training here with Greywright. He was so tired he couldn’t even smile at the memory.

“Cool down. Drink some water. And get some sleep. I’ll wake you in a couple hours.” Greywright told.

“How is this--”

Greywright’s eyes snapped to Yami, silencing him. “Run another ten.”

Yami ground his teeth and took his pace back up.

A ghost of a smirk pulled at the corners of Fuegoleon’s parted, panting lips. He cast Teris a sharp look as he shouldered passed her.

If the Crimson Lion thought he could get away with it cause Greywright wasn’t looking, he had another thing coming. One of his army men having seen, Greywright said. “You can run another seven, Fuegoleon.”

Yami turned back and complained. “Why do I get ten and he--”

“Make it twelve, Yami.” Greywright said.

Yami’s lip curled in a snarl. He glared at the Magic Knights Commander wanting to argue; but knew it would only lead to further laps.

One of Greywright’s army men saw Nozel’s smug pleasure. “Another six for you, Nozel.”

Teris was afraid to move least the Knights Commander send her back out.

“Have a seat, Teris. Catch your breath. Cool down. Drink up and get some sleep. We’re far from finished.” Greywright said.

85.1.2

Yami awoke to a splash of frigid water in the face. His arms were so sore he fumbled at unsheathing his katana. Seeing one of Greywright’s faceless army men standing in front of him holding a bucket Yami pushed the half pulled blade back into its scabbard. He smelled food and his stomach growled in response.

“Water. Bread.” Greywright clipped, his army men throwing them each a small loaf and water skin. “You want more than that, you have to answer my questions and earn it.”

The Knights Commander saw Teris shivering in the now muddy ground, and regretted the freezing temperature of the water he had doused her with. He had forgotten that her regular temp ran higher than normal and that extreme cold effected her that much worse than anyone else. Yami was the exact opposite. He ran lower and though he preferred it warmer than most, unnaturally higher temps got to him quicker. It was one of the things that made their ability to tolerate each others magical extremes of heat and cold that much more intriguing.

The memory of the disturbance last night washed away any urge Greywright had to apologize. The fact that his favorite had been part of such a ruckus angered and disappointed him. He knew Teris had a temper and quite a ways to grow yet. But if she was to have a chance of one day taking his position, like she wanted and he was silently rooting for, she couldn’t openly fight with her fellows. Events like last night could never happen again.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.” Greywright commanded.

Teris’ eyebrows knitted together. She cast a glare at her cousin then looked back at Greywright.

“I know you want more than bread and water.” Greywright urged.

“That’s not a question. You said— Son of a—damn it!” Yami cussed, in pain.

Greywright smirked at Yami’s twitching jerk, the Vice Captain's hair standing on end of a brief moment. He showed them the charm he held. “Small charge of lightening. Nothing fatal or injury inducing. But it hurts like hell. Especially if your wet.”

“You’re telling me.” Yami grumbled. His tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth. He tasted air. Could one taste air? Did air have taste? Not wanting Teris to suffer that thing, Yami looked at her. “Say something nice about your cousin.”

Teris glanced at Fuegoleon again. After a moments thought, she finally said. “He has pretty colored eyes.”

Greywright tried and failed not to sigh. He was use to managing the Captain's, who often bickered and acted like children in their own right, but this was ridiculous. “Let’s stay away from the physical. Focus on who he is. Traits. Personality. Try again.”

Teris glared at the Magic Knights Commander. “You could have been more specific at the—Ow! That hurts!”

Nozel and Fuegoleon tensed seeing Teris in pain. But it was Yami who moved. Greywright pointed the charm at Yami. Yami’s lip curled in a silent snarl, but lowered his bottom back to the ground.

The Magic Knights Commander looked across the four Vice Captain's. “You are here to learn how to behave, obey, and get along. And not a one of you is leaving until you all have shown me you are capable of these things.”

“I’m going to die here because of an ill tempered foreigner who—“ Fuegoleon’s mutter cut short in a sharp grunt of pain.

“Hurts doesn’t it.” Yami grinned, seeing the Crimson Lion get some. He was left gritting his teeth against the buzzing, burning sting. Yami glared at the Knights Commander.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.” Greywright said again.

“He’s a good older brother to Leo.” Teris quickly snipped.

Greywright sighed. That wasn’t what he was looking for, but it was good enough for now. “Fuegoleon. Say something nice about Teris.”

Fuegoleon looked at Teris out of the corner of his eye. “She’s smart. Most of the time.”

“Let’s not add any caveats at the end.” Greywright said. “Nozel. Say something nice about Yami.”

Nozel’s eyes widened. Why was the Knights Commander asking the impossible of him?

Greywright pointed the charm at him. “You heard me.”

The Silver Eagle blinked rapidly, trying to think. “He might be a brute but his strength can be useful.”

Greywright rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to zap the royal. It was his own fault. “No stipulations of any form anywhere. Understood. Good. Yami.”

Yami looked at the Commander his expression one of expectancy.

“Your turn.” Greywright growled.

“Teris is a fine, strong, capable fighter and leader.” Yami said.

Greywright pointed the charm at the Black Bull.

Yami growled at the zapping pain.

“You deserved that one.” Greywright said, feeling a short burst of gratification. “About Nozel. Yami. Say something nice about Nozel.”

“He’s the epitome of what it means to be royal.” Yami said.

It wasn’t exactly something Yami considered a good thing and knew the others would know that as well; but there was little Greywright could do unless he was willing to go on record in front of three royals saying that calling someone a perfect example of royalty wasn’t a nice thing to say.

Greywright sighed, feeling tired and defeated despite the small measure of success. “Eat up.”

Greywright knew what the problem was between Yami and Nozel. There was no fixing the issue anytime soon. Hopefully once Teris turned twenty and the decision she had to make came to a head, things would settle down between the two men. Till then, the best they could hope for was Yami and Nozel not turning on each other on a battlefield and the most basic civility.

As for Fuegoleon and Teris. Greywright had no clue what they were fighting over; but he intended to find out and see that it was fixed. He might've blamed Teris for instigating something, given the smell of alcohol on her breath last night. But the fact that Fuegoleon had responded in kind meant there was more to it.

The Magic Knights Commander decided to give them the choice. “We can sit here and Fuegoleon and Teris can tell us why they’re fighting. Or you can run till you drop.”

Nozel looked up. “After eating, running would--”

“I didn’t say it’d be fun or good for you.” Greywright cut over the royal’s words. He looked over the four Vice Captain's. “Choose.”

“Hearing why they’re fighting.” Nozel said, eyes moving between Teris and Fuegoleon.

“It’s cause the Lion Cub’s an--” Yami fell silent seeing Greywright lift the charm.

“Yami’s right. It’s cause Leon’s a--” Teris snapped her mouth shut when Greywright pointed the charm at her.

“Running it is.” Greywright said, with forced cheer.

“Wait.” Fuegoleon said. “They’re not wrong. At least not completely.” He looked at Teris. “I was wrong. Lord Nova wouldn’t be ashamed of you.”

Teris’ expression softened.

“He would be ashamed of what you’re doing.” Fuegoleon went on.

Teris pushed to her feet and kicked a clod of mud at the Crimson Lion.

Greywright resisted the urge to zap all four of them. Damn the royals pride. They had been so close to making a positive step. “Run.”

“I hate you.” Nozel grumbled at Fuegoleon as they got to their feet.

“It was because of what you told me that I went there in the first place. I was doing it for both of your sake's.” Fuegoleon snapped.

Nozel spun around to face the Crimson Lion. “I don’t require your assistance! Teris is my Intended and--”

“I’m not going to marry you! Will you just stop! I have less than a year and a half left before you both finally see I mean what I say and hate me. Can we not--” Teris blinked, feeling woozy.

“Teris?” Nozel took a step toward her and fell over.

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon reached out and fell over as well.

Ahead of them, already at a steady jog, Yami stopped and turned around. As he did he noticed Greywright’s army men had disappeared. His eyes darted to the Commander and saw Greywright had fallen forward from his seated position on the ground. He turned to Teris to find Nozel and Fuegoleon were also on the ground. Thankfully they weren’t dead, his sense of Ki telling him so.

“Get them out of here!” Yami ordered Teris, unsheathing his katana, eyes and other senses scanning the field of their foe.

“I can’t.”

Yami was already sprinting back to her and their fallen comrades. “Don’t argue! Just do it!”

Teris wished the world would stop spinning at a blur. “No, Yami. I can--”

Yami rushed the last few steps, catching Teris as she collapsed. His heart hammered in his chest. He lowered Teris to the ground and cloaked his katana in darkness.

Teris had said she couldn’t light travel. Was that because she was weakening and loosing consciousness? Just because he could still use his magic didn’t mean that this wasn’t Calen’s magic. The Agents of Chaos had toyed with them before.

Yami saw movement in the distance. He counted three figures. They disappeared and reappeared six paces in front of him. It wasn’t spatial magic. It was some other form of travel.

“Unless you want to die. I suggest you leave.” Yami growled, trying to focus his fuzzy head.

A man pointed at Yami and Teris. “That’s them. I sensed their power last night. It had to have flooded at least a quarter of Castle City.”

“Pay him.” Said a woman with green glowing eyes.

Yami watched the second man form a shadowy spear and thrust it through the first man. It wasn’t that Yami had wanted to stand by and do nothing. But he couldn’t hold the dark magic cloak on his katana. He could barely even hold his blade up.

“You still using your toxin magic, Lila?” Asked the man who had killed the other.

Lila continued to stare at Yami. “Can’t you see my eyes glowing, Sorn? Why ask what you already know? He’s just that strong.”

Sorn tilted his head, inspecting Yami. “Interesting. There might just be something to those fanatics beliefs after all.”

“You can’t be serious. Magical science will explain this. Not magical religion.” Lila watched Yami stumble as he tried to fight through the toxins effects and stay standing.

Sorn nodded. “Of course. I only meant-- Never mind he’s fading.”

Yami fell to the ground.

Sorn looked down at the man he had killed. “He didn’t say three others would be here. What do we do with them? Leave them?”

The glow in Lila’s green eyes faded. Her grimoire snapped shut and fell into her hand. “Two royals and the Magic Knights Commander? We take them. Rayla will be pleased.”

85.2

“Light cannot survive without Darkness. For without Darkness how would one know what Light was?”

“I don’t have time for this Creepy.” Yami rumbled. “A man and woman took us out. I need to wake up.”

“You are the Lord of Destruction. The final end.”

“Can we not use that name. It reminds me of a certain dead bastard.” Yami said.

“Your time is coming. The Darkness grows within.”

“Yeah. I kinda figure we got it wrong and they didn’t want us for the Winter Solstice. If only we realized it sooner…” Thinking of Bronn, Yami muttered. “The things that happened didn’t need to happen.”

“You must possess the Ray of Annihilation if you hope to triumph.”

“You mean Teris? Yeah, even when I finally marry her I don’t see much possessing going on. She’s kind of her own person. It’s one of the things I like that about her. Anyway, if I’m this dark destructive force, why would I want to triumph? Wouldn’t that be a bad thing?”

The voice started up with another riddle.

“Stop! I don’t have time for nonsense I won’t remember. I need to--” Yami woke-up to someone tapping his cheek. His eyes opened to find an unknown face too close to his.

“There we are. Last to go down. Last to rise. Hello handsome. I’m Rayla.” She saw Yami pull against his bindings and told. “Don’t bother. Those are unbreakable.”

“I’ve heard that before.” Yami said, continuing to pull against the cord holding his wrists together above his head.

“Fine and feisty.” Rayla ran her fingers along Yami’s arms and chest.

“And taken.” Yami told. “Don’t go for older women anyway.”

“A shame. We older women know things those pure virgins don’t.” Rayla leaned forward and breathed into Yami’s ear. “Is she watching? Your girl. Does she look angry? Jealous? Let’s give her a good show, shall we.” She grabbed Yami from beneath his jaw fingers digging into his cheeks and pressed her lips to his, tongue trying to force its way into his mouth.

Yami bit her tongue. He jerked his face free of Rayla’s grasp, and spat out the blood and taste of her.

Rayla stepped back and pointed something at Yami. “Maybe later.”

Yami’s mouth opened to fling insults and demand what she wanted; but he found he couldn’t speak. He tired again. Tired yelling. But no sound came. He had wondered why he hadn’t heard anything from the others and realized Rayla had likely done the same to them. It was unnerving.

Yami looked at Teris who was bound against the opposite wall from him. Fuegoleon was tied in the same fashion to Teris’ right. Yami turned his head seeing Nozel to his left and Commander Greywright on the Silver Eagles other side. Even though they were all bound and rendered speechless, at least they were all together and alive. For now.

Rayla moved in front of Greywright. “I must say, you’ve turned into an exceptionally fine specimen. Though not as fine as those two.” She looked over at Yami and Teris, eyes closing and breathed. “The mana coming off of them is intoxicating. The young buck especially. Shame on you and your Wizard King for trying to keep them all to yourselves. Shame on my King for letting you.”

“Your King didn’t want his kingdom to face the consequences.” Greywright said, feeling Rayla give him the ability to speak.

Rayla laughed. “What consequences? Do you mean the threat that you’d use those two as the weapon they could be? Everyone, including my King, knew that as a lie.”

“So he let you have your way.” Greywright surmised.

“Hardly. I’ve learned there are times when it’s better to beg forgiveness, preferably with results in hand, than wait for permission.” Rayla said.

“You’ve made a grave mistake. Taking Yami and Teris would’ve been bad enough. But to take two royal princes? The Silva’s and Vermillion’s will want their heirs back untouched and unharmed. We would’ve sent select teams of Magics Knights to retrieve Yami and Teris. But for Nozel and Fuegoleon. There will be war.” Greywright told.

“I will be returning both you and your four Magic Knights. But I can’t guarantee they’ll be returned unharmed. That all depends on them. As for untouched...” Rayla smiled, wickedly. “I’ll have my hands all over all four of them soon enough. As for your threat of war. It won’t come. My King hasn’t sanctioned this. He isn’t aware I have you. Nor will he until I’m done. So you can come off your threats Commander. They’re as futile as the one Jorah gave my King about using those two against us should we make a move for them.”

85.3

The Black Bulls Captain had been fetched by Cob and told that Sir Jorah wished to see him. At first he had thought it was for a stern talking to about his Vice Captain's behavior last night. But at the sight of Julius standing beside Kess outside of the Wizard Kings office, he was no longer so sure.

Tapping down his concern, Jax stopped near the other Captain's. “What’s going on? Cob was smiley and useless as usual. I swear there’s something wrong that man. No one’s that happy all the time.”

“He’s behind you.” Julius said.

Jax turned and saw the Spatial Mage. “Shit. Sorry, Cob. Please don’t transport me into a volcano.”

Though his smile wasn’t as wide, Cob still wore one. He waved goodbye and turned away. “Have a good afternoon.”

Jax watched Cob disappear down the hall. “Yeah. That man’s not normal.”

Julius almost said it was because he was use to Bronn’s surliness but caught himself.

“I don’t know. I think he still might portal you to the bottom of the sea.” Kess smirked.

Jax turned to her. “Look at you. Making snide comments. Only a week in as Captain and you think you can disrespect me?”

“Leave her, Jax.” Julius turned to Kess and told. “It’s his way of saying he’s proud of you.”

Jax gestured to Kess. “Considering you’re here, I’m figuring our rowdy delinquents are to blame. What’d they do this time? Gang up on Greywright and escape whatever hell he was putting them through?”

Kess blinked. Nozel was far from rowdy and no delinquent. The royal certainly wouldn’t ever gang up on the Magic Knights Commander.

Julius shrugged. “Don’t know. But Mereoleona’s in there with Sir Jorah now.”

“Then why aren’t we? Don’t tell me Teris kill Fuegoleon.” Jax said.

Julius raised a humored brow. “Doubtful.”

“Nozel wouldn’t have done anything.” Kess said, in defense of her Vice Captain.

“Right.” Jax drawled. “Cause your little royal prince of a Vice Captain was innocent of any wrong doing in the first place. Well except for the spear of mercury Greywright said he had primed and ready above Yami’s head.”

Kess frowned. “If your--”

“Silence!” Jorah commended from behind his desk.

The three Captain’s turned to see the office door had been opened by Ellara.

“It’s no wonder your Vice Captain’s were caught behaving like heathens with you for examples. If we didn’t have something more troubling to deal with I’d personally give all three of you a lesson on decorum. Now get in here.” Jorah ordered.

The three Captain’s lined up beside Mereoleona who stood before the Wizard Kings desk. Ellara closed the door and moved to stand behind Sir Jorah’s left shoulder. She didn’t miss the way Julius and Jax watched her, though she was too upset to care.

Eyes on his Captain's, Jorah informed. “Mereoleona visited the training grounds Greywright had taken the four Vice Captain’s to. Instead of finding the Commander and Vice Captain's, she discovered an unknown dead man. He’d been speared through the head by some as yet unidentified type of magic. Leona reports there was no signs of struggle. Magic Investigations was immediately sent to the scene but so far have yet to find anything that would tell us what happened.”

Whatever nerves Kess had felt disappeared in her concern for her Vice Captain. “Are you thinking they were taken? All of them? Nozel. Commander Greywright.”

“That’s what it looks like.” Jorah said.

Julius glanced at Ellara, certain this was the Agents of Chaos’ doing. But the Advisor appeared truly unnerved. Apprehensive even.

The Wizard King looked at the four Captain’s before him. “We have not received any messages for ransom or any other kind. Neither have House Silva or Vermillion. With no messages and no clues found, we have no idea who took them or why.”

“To take all five of them without a fight, let alone a struggle. It had to have been done through passive means.” Jax said.

“Someone they knew?” Kess theorized.

“Sleep magic. Toxin magic.” Julius said, thinking aloud. “Spatial magic would have left a sign. Small almost imperceptible. But a sign nonetheless. Same with a dimensional shift. There’s marionette magic. Or even blood magic. But Commander Greywright has dealt with both enough to fight against it, if not break through such control. There surely would’ve been some kind of sign of him doing so.”

“Yami and Teris too.” Jax said, thinking Yami especially given his dealings with not just Iban but the Witch Queen.

“There are too many passive types of magic. And that’s if one was use. We can’t go rounding up everyone with such types of magic. We can’t even question them all.” Jorah said, concern for his Commander making him wish he could.

“Let me go, Sir.” Julius said.

Jorah knew what the Captain was thinking. “Magic Investigations timed the mans death. It’s been too long for you to see anything, Julius.”

“The least I can do is try. We have no leads. We have nothing. Please, sir. Let me try.” Julius pleaded.

Ellara held her breath, hoping the Wizard King would agree.

Jorah nodded and rose to his feet. To Ellara, he ordered. “Fetch Cob.”

Ellara nodded and exited the office.

Neither Julius or Kess made a joke about Jax being transported to the bottom of the sea. Ellara returned with Cob in tow.

“The scene if you will.” Jorah commanded.

Cob opened a portal and they all walked through.

Jax took in the barren field. The nearest hiding place was a tree line over three hundred meters away. Unless the abductors had an invisibility mage, or Magic Investigations had messed up and missed the sign of spatial or dimensional magic, there was no way anyone could’ve sneaked up on them. He wished he knew the range Yami could sense of someones Ki; though Jax knew it had a lot to do with Yami’s focus at the time.

Jax looked back at Julius seeing his friend had wasted no time in starting the spell. Depending how far back he looked, it would leave him exhausted and empty of mana. But if it gave them some clue as to what happened. Some direction to begin their search. It was worth it.

85.4

Useless as it was, Greywright pulled at his bindings. He’d do anything to protect his Magic Knights. “Rayla! Don’t do this.”

“It’s a simple test, Commander. Every hopeful in the Spade Kingdom must complete it if they are to become a Sorcery Lance.” Rayla smirked haughtily at Greywright. “Are you saying that your Vice Captain’s are incapable of surviving the most basic of tests?”

“We won’t play your sick games.” Nozel told.

Rayla’s eyes flicked to the royal. She left Greywright and stepped in front of Nozel. “Once you’re in there you play or you die, Handsome. While it would be a shame to lose you so soon. It really is no matter to me. But, I suggest you and Teris complete the trial sooner rather than later. For his sake.” She looked to Nozel’s right at Yami and moved to the Black Bull, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh my.”

Yami jerked at the touch, not having noticed Rayla coming to stand before him. He thrashed, trying to shake off her hand.

“You’re not doing so good. Are you?” Rayla questioned in mock concern.

Vision blurry, Yami glared at Magical Scientist. Taking in an unsteady breath, he panted. “I’m doing well enough to kill your ass. Your so fond of tests and trials. Release me and--” He blinked, spotty vision tunneling. His lolled.

“Yami!” Teris fought against her bindings with renewed vigor. She growled at Rayla. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s not what I’m doing to him. It’s what he’s doing to himself. You see those bindings are doing so much more than holding you in place. They’re holding your mana in place. Giving it no way to naturally breathe and release. Instead, it’s building up inside you.” Rayla turned to Teris. “You must be feeling it’s effects too. A feverish sense that’s making you tired, weak, and achy. Almost as if you’re sick with a cold.”

Teris paused, realizing Rayla was doing the same thing Cin had done. Did that mean Yami was close to losing himself and having the Darkness inside him take over? After everything Greywright had put them through she was naturally tired, weak, and achy. No doubt they all were. But the feeling had grown considerably worse. And now that she thought about it, this feeling was all too similar to how she felt when Cin had taken her.

Smiling at Teris, Rayla reached back running a hand over Yami’s chest and stomach. “Having a full store of mana is a good thing. Overflowing with mana is amazing. But having no way for mana to breath can be deadly. Think of what would have happened if the mana building in you on the Summer Solstice had no way of getting out. Beautiful sight by the way. Such an impressive display of power. Wish I had been there to see it, you must’ve been glorious. But, you had your time.” She turned, looking at the near unconscious Yami. “His time is still coming. While I don’t full understand it or agree with those nut cases, I intend to find the reasoning behind it. Magical science can and will explain this.”

Teris watched Yami. He was shivering, the beads of sweat on his brow frosting over. “Let the excess mana out of him and I’ll play whatever game you want.”

“Teris!” Nozel yelled.

Teris glanced at him. Nozel didn’t understand. She would’ve done anything for Yami. But in this case it wasn’t just about Yami. In a way she was doing this for Nozel. She was doing it for all of them. If Yami lost control and the Darkness inside him took over, they all might die. She looked at Greywright who gave her a less than pleased nod, seeing no other way.

“No.” Rayla said. “First you pass the test. Then I’ll give his building mana release.”

Teris pressed her lips together. Yami wasn’t looking good and she had no idea what this test of Rayla’s entailed. So much for bargaining.

With one last look at Yami, Teris fixed her gaze on Rayla. “Fine.”

85.4.2

Next thing Teris knew, she and Nozel were standing in an arena, hands unbound.

Wanting to explain, Teris scanned the place and apologized. “I’m sorry. It’s just--”

“Not now.” Nozel snapped. He stepped quickly to her, eyes darting about the arena. “Can you light travel?”

Even if Teris was willing to leave the others, she couldn't light travel. She shook her head, rubbing her raw wrists. That’s when she noticed it. A metal band around her right wrist.

Nozel frowned at the foreign item around Teris’ wrist and inspected himself, finding he wore a similar one. “Probably limiting or blocking our magic.”

Unable to pull the thing off, Teris raised her hand. She launched a blast of light that tore a hole through the arena wall. She tried to see passed the opening; but there was nothing. It was similar to dimensional space, but different too.

The wall rebuilt itself.

“Probably limiting us to a point.” Teris agreed. “It would hardly be an accurate test if our magical abilities were limited too much. And I think she truly wants to see what we’re capable of.” She focused properly on Nozel for the first time. “Are you okay?”

Though Nozel’s wound, where Rayla had cut a chunk out of him had stopped bleeding for the most part. It still seeped.

“Yeah, cause you look so much better.” Nozel said, looking over in her wounds.

Due to the nature of Teris’ magic her wounds had slowly cauterized themselves. At least that’s what Nozel supposed the reasoning was. But the gouge and two deep cuts still looked quite painful.

Nozel looked down at his cut opened, stained shirt. Beneath was the still oozing wound where a piece of him the size of a child's fist was missing from the left side of his abdomen. “As soon as I start moving this thing is going to open up. You think you can burn it closed without burning me to a crisp?”

With the heightened level of mana that was raw and storming from both her emotions and having been bottled up, Teris couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t burn more than needed. But she would do her best.

“The only way to know is try.” Teris said.

Nozel gave her an ill-humored look. “That’s hardly reassuring. Do it.”

Teris reached out tentatively. “You—uh. You need to lif—lift your shirt. That is unless you want fabric burned into your flesh.”

Nozel looked at her. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it, exposing a part of him he never thought he’d show her until they were married.

Teris’ eyes darted to the side, unable to stare into his crystal blue eyes any longer. She thought about Yami and how they had to hurry. “Ready?”

Teris gave Nozel a second to tuck his tongue and grit his teeth. She glanced at his uncovered stomach, looking away as soon as her hand was positioned over the wound. Her hand began to glow. Teris’ nose wrinkled at the smell of burning flesh that filled her nostrils. Just as she pulled her hand away, Nozel’s eyes went from a squeezed pain filled grimace to wide, worried surprise.

Nozel grabbed Teris. He pulled her into his arms and turned, shielding her with his body in case he hadn’t been quick enough and something got through his mercury shield. Teris didn’t even have a moment to take a breath before she sensed another attack coming. She pushed Nozel down and didn’t bother taking the time to raise her hand to aim, the light appearing out of nowhere to hit it’s target.

85.4.3

Rayla watched a projection of Nozel and Teris on a vaporous cloud in the center of her lab and explained to her captives. “Usually Sorcery Lance hopefuls will face such a test in teams of six or eight with one, maybe two individuals out of every dozen or so teams making it through unscathed enough to consider as having passed. But, seeing as these two are royals and Magic Knight Vice Captain’s I upped the level of difficulty and did away with the safety measures. At least one of them should make it through alive.”

Fuegoleon snarled. “You sick--”

Rayla turned to Fuegoleon silencing his voice. “Don’t worry, my Prince. You’ll have a chance to prove yourself soon enough.”

“Rayla! You have to let Yami’s mana release.” Greywright said, truly worried.

Rayla looked over her shoulder. “I set the rules, Commander.”

“Meaning you can break them.” Greywright said.

He knew he might’ve just set a dangerous precedent. But at the moment it didn’t matter. Yami’s body was burning up as his mana built. Greywright could feel the near overwhelming power. No physical form was meant to house that much raw magical force. No mortal body could contain it and survive. At least not for long.

Rayla tilted her head as if considering the Knights Commander’s words.

“Yami’s your greatest interest. If he dies all your questions go unanswered.” Greywright reminded.

The Magic Knights Commander had a point. With reports of Teris’ magic seeming to have normalized after the Summer Solstice. Rayla’s main interest was in Yami, and the connection Yami and Teris’ magic had. It was the entire reason she had gone against her King’s command and sent Sorn and Lila to the Clover Kingdom.

Looking at Greywright, Rayla walked to Yami’s listless form. “I tell you what. I won’t release the bind that’s bottling his mana. But I will give him a reprieve. It should afford Teris and the Silva Prince an extra twenty minutes to clear the test or die trying. After that, it’s up to them to save Yami’s life. And Yami’s willingness to hold onto that life until they’ve completed the trial I’ve set them. You understand how these things work, Commander. You’ve been in my lab before. Without consequences, even ones that disappoint me, there is no obedience.”

Rayla grabbed a fistful of Yami’s sweat drenched hair, pulling and lifting his head. Yami’s closed eyes barely fluttered.

She looked over her prized lab rat and cooed. “You really are bad off. Aren’t you, handsome?” Never taking her eyes off Yami, she told. “I was wrong, Commander. Your battling Vice Captain's have ten minutes, possibly less.”

Rayla lined up her mouth up with Yami’s. She pulled in close, centimeters apart. Mouth opening, she took in a deep breath. A dense, dark purple, almost black cloud billowed out of Yami’s mouth and entered hers.

Greywright relaxed. Even though Yami didn’t do more than take in a deep shuddering breath, Greywright sensed sizable portion of excess mana leave the younger man.

Rayla stepped back sputtering. Her body felt as if it were bearing an infinite weight. Her lungs burned from a biting cold. She coughed out the mana she’d taken in, gasping.

Fuegoleon’s breath caught at the sight of Rayla’s eyes. They were black. Even the whites of the woman’s eyes were black. Then she blinked and her eyes were back to their normal watery grey.

Shaking off the disturbing sight, Fuegoleon looked at Yami. The Black Bull still didn’t look good. Then again with as much as Rayla had cut into Yami, no one would. While Yami had received most of Rayla’s focus, none of them had been spared. None but Greywright that is.

While Fuegoleon wouldn’t wish such torture on anyone, he had wondered at the Commander’s exclusion. That was until Rayla mentioned Greywright had been in her lab before. If Commander Greywright had been in Rayla’s captive custody once before, that meant he had escaped. Though Rayla had likely learned from the escape and taken measures to stop it happening again, it still gave Fuegoleon hope.

He looked away from the vaporous screen that showed Teris take a hit that sent her flying. Turning back, Fuegoleon saw an attack break through Nozel’s mercury shield as if it wasn’t even there. He grimaced in sympathetic concern when three magical spears pierced Nozel’s side, thigh, and shoulder.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow, his vision blurred for a few heartbeats. Fuegoleon wondered if this was the first sign of the effects Rayla had mentioned. If his own mana was beginning to build passed his body’s tolerance. He looked at the Knights Commander to see him shivering with what he assumed was the same, only further along.

Greywright turned away from the image of a barbed chain wrapping around Teris’ arm and throwing her against the arena wall. His eyes met Fuegoleon’s, noticing the Vermillion's color and sweat. “You have to keep con--”

Rayla silenced Greywright’s voice. “Let the young ones learn to survive on their own, Commander. You did. Think you’re better than this fine royal specimen?” She moved to Fuegoleon. “I always wondered about you Clover Kingdom royals. Naturally endowed with such extraordinary mana and magical ability.” She placed a hand on his chest. “What else are you greatly endowed with?”

Fuegoleon jerked when her hand ran down his chest to his stomach.

Rayla plucked at the waistband of Fuegoleon’s pants. “Care to show me the full weighty might of a royal prince?”

Fuegoleon saw Teris take another hit, and glared at Rayla. “You’re dampening their magic.”

“I have to sweet one.” Rayla said.

“Because you’re afraid they’ll win your little game?” Fuegoleon accused.

Rayla bristled. “I fear no one and nothing. Not even death.”

“Funny you should say that. Shall we put it to the test?” A voice asked, their figure appearing in the middle of the lab.

Rayla spun around to face the intruder. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

“I am Death.” Alowishus said, as if that should’ve been obvious.

“Lila! Sorn.” Rayla called.

Alowishus gave a small, slow shake of his head. “They can’t hear you. They’re dead. Which conveniently answers your second question. How we got in here.”

Rayla’s eyes narrowed. “We?”

Alowishus looked to the screen which showed three others had joined Nozel and Teris in the trial arena. “No one can leave until the trail is complete or all the combatants are dead. Yes? I wouldn’t have bothered sending in three of my people. One would have sufficed in putting an end to your little game. But, I couldn’t trust that Teris wouldn’t end up fighting her helping hand. Even with her magic dampened to such a level. She is a force that should be respected.”

Despite his getting in, Rayla was dismissive in her magics attempt to control the intruder.

Alowishus stared at her. “You cannot control Death. No one can.”

Snarling, Rayla extended both her hands and tried again.

Alowishus looked back at the image of the fight. “My people are nearly done with your little test. And I’m done with you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s impolite to play with anothers toys? At least your King understands.” At Rayla’s expression, Alowishus raised a brow. “What? You thought your King feared that empty threat Jorah gave?” He took a step and was in front of her so fast it was like he disappeared and reappeared. “Yami and Teris are mine.”

Rayla fell back sensing the mans power. It was more than Teris’. More than Yami’s. Possibly more than the both of them combined. How had he managed to hide such a power; shield it from her senses until now? What was even more frightening was that Rayla didn’t know if this was the full extent of his power, or if he was only showing her a hint of it.

Rayla scooted away from him. “You—you can have them. I’m sorry.”

Alowishus stared down at her without expression. “No you’re not. But you will be.”

Rayla gasped and begun to writhe on the floor.

Fuegoleon watched the horrifying scene, unable to look away despite his revulsion. Rayla had experiment on them. Tortured them. She laid hands on and humiliated him. Despite all that, Fuegoleon struggled against his bindings with renewed vigor in an effort to free himself and help her.

Rayla deserved to spend the rest of her days in prison. She might have even deserved to be executed. But that was for a lawful trial to decide. She didn’t deserve to slowly wither and decay to nothing.

Rayla screamed and convulsed until she no longer could. Even after she stopped, her eyes moved in their hollowed sockets. Her body twitched, mouth still open in a silent wail of agony.

Fuegoleon watched Rayla’s eyes lose their sheen of life and stare vacantly at the man who had called himself Death. Just when Fuegoleon thought he couldn’t be repulsed further, Rayla’s form cracked and crumbled to dust.

“From the earth you came. So to the earth you shall return.” Alowishus intoned, staring at the pile of dust that had been a living human mere moments before. He turned and stepped to Yami, the hem of his cloak sweeping through Rayla’s remains. “Look what she’s done to you, my boy. Magical science.” Alowishus scoffed. “Unworthy, disbelieving fools. This wouldn’t have killed you. But it would have set you off before your time.”

He placed a hand flat on Yami’s chest and took in the excess mana. Alowishus shivered, wracked with pain as his body initially rejected Yami’s mana. A purple-black cloud billowed around him. Alowishus gritted his teeth forcing his body to soak the mana back in.

Slowly the dark cloud disappeared, drawn in by Alowishus.

“After being weakened from taking in the Light Bringers essence, I needed that.” Alowishus muttered. He looked over his shoulder at the scattered pile that had once been Rayla. “I suppose your foolishness was good for something after all.” He pulled off the charm on Yami’s bindings that stopped his mana from naturally releasing then made his way to Greywright and did the same. “I trust you’ll recover in time to see the Vermillion prince is released before he burns up and dies. Or not.” Alowishus lifted a shoulder. “It makes no difference to me.”

Greywright tried to break free of his bindings but was too weak. The built up mana released from him far too slowly for him to regain the physical power or clear thinking that would allow him to access his magic.

Three Agents of Chaos appeared with an unconscious Nozel and Teris.

Alowishus looked at Yami and Teris, and told Greywright. “Take better care of them, Commander. I’ll be forced to take them away if you don’t. Trust me. None of us wants them in my extended custody.” He moved to his followers and ordered. “Misandre.”

“Master.” Misandre lifted a hand, Bronn’s hand; and she, Alowishus, Himmel, and Yuric stepped through the portal.

Comments and reblogs are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day; so as a 'tip' for reading this free work please leave a comment if you enjoyed reading it.

Next chapter snippet:

“Death should not be here.” The voice said, sounding offended and confused.

Alowishus looked about the black void that was somehow both substance and space. Eyes fixing on Yami, Alowishus said in awe. “This is you. Or a representation of the force within you.”

#yami sukehiro #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #julius novachrono #mereoleona vermillion #Black Clover #light in the darkness spoilers

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headoverhiddles · 5 years ago

Text

Go On, Smile - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: You and the band terrorize the local mall. AKA The totally fictional, fucked up origins of the samples from Cake and Sodomy.

Notes: Portrait era! Warning for intentions of assault (not from Manson) and general immature debauchery.

There's nothing left to do in this town.

You, your boyfriend, and a few members of his band that aren't still sleeping, are wandering around the small town they're set to perform tonight. The venue's gonna be tiny, just like the town, but at this point, any gig is a good gig. They're touring their asses off to promote their first studio album, an album nobody thought could possibly get produced. Lots of touring meant a few shitty stops (okay, a fair amount), and it meant days of either doing drugs in hotel rooms, pasting flyers around the city, or trying to do normal things.

"We could vandalize buses," Jeordie suggests.

"There's only one bus that comes by here, once every hour at half past sharp," Pogo replies, staring at the palm of his hand. "I've been watching it."

"What about the mall?" you suggest.

"Does barbie want to go shopping?" Pogo mutters. You throw a crumpled up fast food bag from the ground at him.

Brian finally speaks up. "The mall's not a bad idea, actually. There might be makeup stores there, I can swipe some pancake shit for tonight's show."

Now that their fearless leader had spoken, everyone grunted their own form of agreement, getting up off the park bench.

Making it to the mall, Jeordie runs over to the directory. "I'm going to the candy store." Pogo seems to like that idea, and the two walk off. Brian calls after them.

"Assholes! Meet us back at the doors by six, we've got a show to get to!" He turns to you, taking your hand and rolling his eyes. "As if they don't get enough drugs. Now they need sugar highs too."

The two of you walk toward the drugstore to check out the makeup. Brian immediately heads over to the lip aisle, and starts pocketing some reds and plum colours.

"You know... I wouldn't mind a bit of candy," you tell him, swinging your hand with his, "A nice, big lollipop."

Brian licks his lips. "How would you lick it, baby? Swirl your tongue over the tip?"

"I'd get it all into my mouth, then when it hits the back of my throat, I'd swallow all that sweet sugar." Brian groans, starting to walk toward the candy store with you too, and you shrug. "But I'd settle for some sugar babies."

"You get the sugar babies," he smirks, "I'll get the sugar daddy."

"You are not a sugar daddy," you laugh. He scoffs.

"I could be!" He slides his hand down to feel up your ass. "I could be your daddy, babygirl."

"You're the same fucking age as me, and you've got no money."

He shakes his head. "Just give this record a little more time. Once Interscope pushes it and Portrait sells a billion copies, stadiums all over the world'll want Marilyn Manson to scare the crap out of their upstanding citizens. We'll be in demand! Then I can buy you all sorts of weird relics."

"Special," you smile, "Normal sugar daddies buy their babies diamonds. No, I get prosthetic hands and Eichmann's aluminum dentures."

"You love it."

"I do," you giggle, and his eyes suddenly take on that mischievous glint.

"Photo booth."

"Bri, really?"

"We gotta go in, and do a porno shoot."

"What?!"

"There's nobody around but us. Come on baby, let's take really fucking dirty pictures."

"You know, they probably save these somewhere to print them, right?"

"Good, you can flash your tits, make the mall cop jack off. Here, we can record, and put it on the new single, Cake and Sodomy! It'll be perfect."

You blush, and he pulls you into the little tent in the middle of the pathetically empty strip mall. He sets up the camera, closes the curtain, and you keep giggling.

"You go here," he sets you up on mark like a master movie director, and you check the screen, making sure the star anatomy is properly centered. Then you reach down and pull your top over your head, unhooking your bra. Brian bites his bottom lip.

"Shit, you're gonna make me have to jack off." You knee him lightly in the crotch playfully.

"Focus on the shoot, Spielberg." He puts his hands over your breasts from behind, and you yelp.

"Jesus Christ, Brian!"

"What?!"

"At least warm your hands up a little. God, it's like being fondled by the Grim Reaper!”

“Geez--”

“Boobs are very delicate things, okay, they're not like dicks, you can't just whip them out and expect--"

"Okay, alright, there. There! All warmed up. You happy?"

"Yes," you pout, and he kisses your cheek quickly, before darting forward to press capture and resuming his position. The first flash goes off, with Brian's hands grabbing your breasts. Second one begins to count down.

"What should we do, quick, what should we do?!" you squeal, laughing, and he looks around. He gets on his knees, bringing his face up, and sucks on your nipple for the third shot.

"Get your dick out," you urge, "Hurry, do it!"

He unzips his pants, and gets his dick as close as he can to the camera.

For the fifth shot, you get on your knees this time, holding Brian's dick and licking the tip as the last flash goes off. He presses play on his tape recorder, and you stand up, kissing him and making the sexiest noises you can.

"Alright.... mmm... mmmm!"

The two of you are laughing uncontrollably like children as you exit the booth with the printed strip. "Gorgeous," you nod, inspecting it.

"We're hot. I'd wanna fuck us," he says.

"God, same."

"We should use these as album art."

"Go for it," you shrug, "I'm sure it'd help sell all those billions of copies you promised." You bite your pinkie nail, looking back at the booth. "What if there were cameras that were watching inside, though? Like other cameras?" He massages your shoulders as you walk.

"I told you, there probably were. I already shoplifted, might as well be arrested for public indecency as well. It'll help my, uh... dangerous rock star image."

You groan, hiding your face in Brian's shoulder as you two keep walking.

You meet up with Jeordie and Pogo in front of the candy shop, Brian having shoved the strip down his back pocket. Jeordie has a bag full of sweets.

"What did you get?" you ask, burrowing inside it. He hands you some laffy taffy.

"I know you like this stuff."

"Jeord! I absolutely love you!"

"I know." He grins. "Hehe, Star Wars."

Just then, a big, hairy motherfucker of a security guard approaches you four quickly. He's an imposing figure, even on your 6'1 boyfriend.

"I promise I paid for all these gummy worms," Jeordie begins to tell him, but he looks at you and Brian.

"You the kids from the photo booth?"

You're too shocked to speak, so Brian, ever the antagonist, nods, sizing him up. "Yeah. Is there a problem?"

"You're going to have to come with me," the portly guard says sternly, and Brian shoves him off.

"Like hell, buddy."

The guard starts to take something out of the back of his belt, so before either of you can find out what, you stop him.

"Wait! Wait, it's okay. We'll go." You lean in to Brian pleadingly. "The most he can do is give us a warning. Don't get your show banned here over some stupid, bloated mall guy with a bone to pick."

"Fine." You and Brian turn, noticing Jeordie and Pogo had fled the scene. "Great friends," Brian mutters, and the two of you start walking.

The guard leads you into a dark, grimy room down some steps under the mall's CVS, where you see a bunch of security camera feeds, and... your topless photos displayed on one of them. It smells strange down here, like spoiled chicken and vaseline. The guard sits down.

"So. You think creating pornography in public is funny, do you?"

Brian lets loose a stream of vitriol you knew had been simmering. "I do. In fact, I think it's the most goddamn hilarious thing I've ever done, you stuffy old dickhead!"

"Brian..."

"You wouldn't know much about that though, since you're probably so miserable working overtime for a mall who sees the local crackhead walk through maybe once every month or so and that's it--"

"Brian."

"--Getting paid to sit behind a desk in the dark, eat donuts and creep on people like a glorified cam-stalker--"

"Brian!"

"I bet you liked looking at my girlfriend's tits, huh? You like em, you fucking pervert? Why don't you--"

The guard finally has enough, and gets up out of his chair, walking behind Brian and tying a gag around his mouth. You go to stop him, but he grabs some duct tape, and sits you down, tying your wrists behind the chair. He does the same to Brian, restraining him. Shaking in fear, you sit still, paralyzed, as the guard sits back down in front of you two.

"You kids now and your alternative lifestyles. Think that acting outlandish and wearing black, Satanic clothing that never would've flown in my day is the way to give us civilized folk here in this good, god fearing little town the middle finger, huh?"

He sneers down at your leather miniskirt, and then to Brian's thick platform boots, looking him up and down. He's not really helping disprove the man's point about outlandish clothes, with his lipstick and shaved eyebrows. You think you see Brian fiddle with something in his back pocket, but your attention is directed back to the guard.

"Performing sexual acts in my mall. You won't get away with that."

"What are you gonna do?" you whimper.

"Put on a little show of my own," he starts to smile sadistically. You start to feel cold all over. He doesn't mean...

Brian's eyes close. Of course the two of you had found the Buffalo Bill of mall cops. Fucking lucky. Well. It'd be a story for the show.

The man sits back. "Smile."

Brian watches the guy closely. "You touch her..." your boyfriend warns. You struggle to pull your restraints free.

"Smile for me," the guard repeats, growing impatient.

You swallow. "Just let us go. We're really sorry about the photos!"

He finally stands up, cracking a fist. "Go on smile, you cunt!"

Brian jumps up, and though his wrists are still bound like yours, he turns around to grab you, pulling you both to the door. He spits the gag out. "Run."

The two of you dash out the side entrance to the mall, and keep running until you can't hear the guard yelling anymore.

Jeordie and Pogo come out of the woodwork, quickly gathering around you.

"Fuckin' redneck tyrant!" Brian shouts back, grabbing and tossing Jeordie's milkshake at the building. Jeordie stares in longing at the destroyed strawberry goop on the ground, debating if the 5 second rule worked for drinks too. Pogo takes a switchblade out to cut you two loose.

"I got the perfect sound bites on tape we can sample for Cake and Sodomy, of you moaning like a whore and that guy being a general asshole," Brian tells you, and you roll your eyes.

"After nearly being killed by a psychotic mall cop, that's all you have to say? Typical."

"What did you guys even do?!" Jeordie asks.

You dig out the photo strip from Brian's back pocket, and pass it to the other guys. Pogo nods, stroking his goatee like a critic.

"That's art."

186 notes · View notes

punkandsnacks · 4 years ago

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Six; Hopes.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: !!! Brief mentions of violence and gore in this chapter !!!

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

Hellford park was a domineering house. It was as proud as it was beautiful.

A high and grand edifice of squared buff sandstone with the very same in all its trimmings. The roof is welsh slate. And the front of the house echoed it’s Palladian and baroque design. The Doric order pillars out front hold up a looming triangular outset to the building. There are three floors. Three towering floors all full of windows.

The house sits vast in its horizon. Dominating. She had walked up through the woods from Pembleton. A good twenty minutes of walking down the front drive merely to get to the place. Through a resplendent wrought iron black gate that looked nearly eerie in the morning fog. The cawing of throaty crows echoed around the tall dark trees that nearly eclipsed the sun. She opened that creaking gate and slipped on through. Feeling like a doomed trespasser on Lord Ren’s land.

When the walk along the paved road clears of the governing country nature, each side of her not now lined with massive oaks, and the dark wood thinned out, the sun shone down on her in speckles through the spreading tree tops.

She listens to the cooing call of wood pigeons in the far off trees. The sizzle of wind ruffling the dead leaves on their branches. Sizzling and spitting and rattling in the air. And the cold bitter landscape seems buttery warm, the colour of dandelion sunshine lifts every facet of nature. Melts the snow. Makes the countryside all merry again. Thaws it from the unfeeling and cruel fingers of frosty winter.

Though she can still see wisps of her breath flutter the air. And she tugs her rabbit lined gloves up her wrists to keep warm. Her soles crackle along the road in the misty frost.

She’s on yet another errand this morning. In her battered blue wool coat, her quite hopeless brown boots. She hadn’t seen the need for a bonnet, and now her ears are feeling the price of such a poor decision. Tipped with icy pink.

The dappling sun tangled in her hair. Where it’s scooped back off her face in a semi braided coiffure. She had her plain wool dress on. It was a boring shade of chowder grey pinstriped with white. But it did it’s occupation of keeping her warm better than her old pelisse did.

She comes up to the view of the house. Admiring how vast and proudly it stands. Resolute even under the strong sun. The sky behind its roof is a net of crepe cotton blue splashed with smeared white clouds.

From the vantage point on the road, where she is, far far far down below the humongous beast, the vast wall of windowpanes wink icy in the sunlight across at her. The huge pond to the front of Hellford Manor, is deep glass green, and navy skipped with gold from the mirrored reflection of the sky.

Her steps rap sharply on the hard road, clapping off the house and bouncing back to her. Mingled in with sounds of the woods, of the birds and the trees and the wind ruffling through it all.

She steps up to the cavernous entryway and the door that’s eight feet taller than she is. Doesn’t know if she’ll get a reply knocking here- she hopes she does.

She knocks her gloved hand loud and clear on the door. Taps her knuckles loudly three times. Hears it ricochet off the house behind and in front of her. Probably drifting through that elegantly extensive marble foyer that was bound to be inside. Manor this grand was bound to have a colossal foyer for entertaining.

She stares up at the great big white painted door in fervent hope. A few seconds pass. Nothing but the silence of her own anticipation.

She’d brought Lord Ren some welcoming gifts that high society hereabouts has decided to bestow on him. The ladies and matrons of prominence are thankful for his mentioning he’d keep an eye open for the terrorising wolf on his land.

Mrs Phillips sent him a box of Turkish dried fruits and sticky figs drowned in honey. Miss Smith sent a bottle of port and a selection of sweet meats. Her own mother had declined to send him anything.

Iris was affronted at her sudden distant behaviour when days before she’d been clamouring for her daughter to prostrate herself at his mighty feet. So she snuck to the kitchen earlier and secreted away two dead partridge’s when she wasn’t looking.

Cook was on her side covering for her. She’d spin Mrs Ashton a cunning tale that the cat got into them and she had to discard them. Let’s hope Iris’ mother didn’t decide to take action against the innocent tabby.

She’d also put in some of cooks chutney and her famous jam. She was a crass red faced, battle axe Irish woman of stout size and many years. But she liked making sure the people around her were well fed. She was a kindly woman to Iris.

Many times as a scolded young girl, belittled for improper behaviour, or something petty Caroline nitpicked over, she’d find herself hiding from mama in the kitchen. Wedged between the stove and the butchers block. Red faced and sobbing tears.

Cook - Mrs Murphy as she doesn’t like to be commonly known as - would crossly stop whatever she was doing. Whatever soup or sauce she was preparing, whatever un-plucked game bird awaited stripping by her hands, or whatever haunch of meat needed seasoning, she would stop.

Wiping her hands on her grubby apron. She’d pour Iris a cup of chocolate, sit her by the open stove and put a warm rug around her shoulders. Tell her to dry her eyes on her handkerchief. She always had one to hand. “There now. Dry your eyes. Pet.” In her soothing County Kildare, Irish brogue.

“Here’s to hoping the road rises up to meet you yet.” She’d always say. Her way of wishing all the pain and obstacles to her happiness be plucked free right out of her life. Mrs Murphy knew, even back then, what strain Iris was being put under to be the perfect daughter. Drowning under expectations at such a bonny young age.

So when Iris went to her this morning, interrupting her making her brown onion soup and scotch collops ready for supper, she asked for some donations to a man whose been kind to her, and to the scared flustered hens of matrons in the village. Cook raised a brow. “I see.” She said cannily. With an all-knowing understanding to her tone.

Steered Iris into the cold larder and gave the game, the jam and some other goods. “This wouldn’t be that infamous Lord I’ve been hearing whispers about, now, would it?” She asks with a hand on her hip. Iris blushes.

“He’s- merely an acquaintance.” Iris insists sweetly.

“Aye. And I’m the goddess queen of the upper Nile.” She smarts flatly.

“Be off with ya now pet. Before your mother gives you what for.” She says gruffly. Plonking two rosy pink apples in her hands for her journey to Hellford park. Before jabbing her thumb the back door over her own shoulder. Continuing rolling out her pastry with sticky-flour and buttery hands. She watches Iris head out with the baskets. One on each arm as usual. She smiles when she leaves.

A good girl she was- much rounder temper than her silly sisters. Cook loves Iris like a daughter. And in damn sure more of a maternal way than her dragon of a mother ever did.

Surprisingly, Iris didn’t have to wait too long at Hellford’s grand oak door before it is shuddered open with a whine from the other side.

The very pleasant face of Kylo’s butler greets her. A red dastar turban covering his head. His arrowhead shaped goatee was black shot through with silver. Straight as a yardstick. And oiled finely. He appears very well groomed and meticulous. A fine warm scent of lime blossom and something like citrus or oranges woven into his cologne.

She smiles warmly at him. Hands across her calling card through the gap of the door. “Good Morning. I’m so sorry to disturb you- but I’m just paying a call to deliver some-”

His warm face breaks into a warm beam. One of honesty and recognition. “He told me we should be expecting you, Miss Ashton.” He smiles gladly. Already apprised of her being here. Widening the door for her.

“Please do come in...” He urges. Iris likes the warm cadence to his voice. The distinctive accent of his sounds like honey syrup or spiced cloves. Comforting and rich. A voice that promises nothing but warmth and friendliness in its offering.

Where he widens the door, Iris catches a glimpse of the exotic threads of his clothing. Something akin to a silk coat covers his top half. Indigo ink silk with buttons that glimmered like raindrops in rain. It’s almost military style in its fashion. He is a lean, towering man with broad shoulders. Though not as powerfully foreboding as the man he serves. His coat covers most of his legs. His knees are clad in loose fitting black trousers of thin substance. Puffy at the knees. Tucked into impressively shiny black boots.

The sun catches on a bangle on his right wrist when he moves. Hitting against the silk of his peacock blue sleeve. When she stopped in, she sees the coat is embroidered with twirls of silver thread stitched into vines. It was such a beautiful garment. She’s in awe of it.

She steps in from the cold, thanking him, and the huge house engulfs her. It’s warm for such a colossal place. And she was right. The foyer is entirely marble.

Marble pointed tile floor. Walnut panelled walls and wainscoting coat the house. Set with gilded gold frames resting on them, surrounding impressive paintings. Black votives of candles stand lit and flickering amber flame. A gigantic mouth of a limestone fireplace is directly ahead on the wall. It’s twice as big as her bedchamber, that one hearth alone. Roaring flames lit within. Around the neatest pile of logs that blazed. Not even a spec of ash was out of place. There’s no decoration. Hardly any vases or relics. That’s strikes her as odd.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Ashton.” He bows his head respectfully and tucks his hands behind his back. “I am Raajaa Jomar. Lord Ren’s butler.” He introduces himself.

“Pleasure to meet you. Mr. Jomar. I only called by to give Lord Ren a few tokens of gratitude from some local families.”

He smiles and accepts the baskets from her. “Of course. How kind. Do follow me to wait in the parlour. I will see to finding his lordship.”

He leads her through the impressive house. Walking her deeper into the expensive bowels of the place. She walks demurely behind him. Aghast at the display of wealth that lines every wall. It hangs in the dripping crystal and spotless chandeliers. The way the tiles underfoot gleam like they’ve been scrubbed mercilessly.

Paintings ooze oil and grandeur dour wealth from their spots on the walls. Ancient portraits of powdered wigs and styles of the 1700’s. Robes a la Francaise and beauty spots on powdered faces and craggy noses, casting a disapproving eye out at her.

He brings her to a double door entrance of a richly furnished parlour. Decorated with red and white. Fire roars in the pearl marble of the hearth. She steps onto the fine cushion of a scarlet Aubusson rug. Sees her reflection in the huge antique mirror above the mantel. The room is trimmed in old French antiques. Side tables and end tables around the garnet red settees that bleed gold gild at their tops.

“Do please make yourself comfortable Miss Ashton. I will arrange for a tray of tea and refreshments be brought to you.” He bows his head politely again.

She feels like calling out to stop him. She was only here to pay call delivering a basket after all. Which she now sets both things down on the immaculately polished low table, set before her. She sinks into the luxuriously soft settee. Plump velvet feather cushions catch her back and prop her up.

She feels rather nervous. Here, in this grand place in her shabby coat and ragged boots.

She’s looking out the white glass of the terrace doors into the finely trimmed dutch gardens. Neat shrubs arranged in symmetrical patterns with paths cutting through to the lawn. A fountain crowns the central spoke of the flowerbeds. Blooming waxy tulips in summer spring up there. In punching reds and fierce oranges.

In no time whatsoever, a waify scurrying maid appears in the doorway. Thin arms laden with a silver tray of a tea service. She smiles a beaming polite grin over at Iris. Who bids her a good afternoon. She sets the tea and a plate of warm jam tartlets before her, and they discuss the weather. She bobs a cute curtsey when she’s done and nods a parting and a good afternoon at Iris.

She found it slightly odd to have someone curtsey to her. Sat here in her shabby boots and too-small-pelisse. She almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. Not in cruel jest to the sweet maid’s behaviour- just that in her household, she barely outranked their maids. She helped out with the cooking, the cleaning, as did her sisters.

That didn’t seem to place her worthy of a curtsey. She had no title after all. Was likely never to bare a title or be among nobility.

She drinks some of the excellent tea. A fine rich blend no doubt. She nibbles the corner of a sticky jam tartlet and listens as the carriage clock on the mantel strikes twelve. Dinging softly around the opulent room. Along with the crackling of the fire spitting spewing out embers and ash in the hearth.

She idly awaits company- drains another cup of tea. And stands to better admire the frosted gardens from the big windows. Lifting the scarlet red curtain out of her sight as she admires.

A different maid enters across the room. Clunking the heavy door. “If you please, Miss. I’ll take you to his Lordship. Mr Jomar says he’d do it himself only on account of him getting caught up chatting to the cook.” She explains.

Iris leaves her baskets in the parlour on the table. She goes directly with the girl. Who leads her through the house and out across a courtyard, and points to a little track road down to the working stables. She apologised that she had to skip back to the kitchens to attend to some errands. Iris says it’s quite alright. She can find her way from here.

She walks up the pea-shingle paved road. Seeing the U shaped courtyard ahead, under the stone arch of the gates leading into the stables. Stalls surround the shape of it. Running around the perimeter. She can smell hay and animal sweat and the stench of hops. As she walks closer a repetitive clunking noise rings in her ears. The clatter of wood tumbling onto stone. Coming from the direction she’s intended toward.

She passes under the arch, cool shade of it tickles the back of her neck. She comes into the clearing of the cobblestoned courtyard. Horses stamp and shift in their stalls surrounding the walls. She spies Erland in his stall. Munching on something he’d recently been fed. Carrots most likely.

She comes into plain view of the whole stable- and then she lurches right to a sudden stop. A gasp punched out her lungs. Chest seizing up.

She’s now stood facing a very shirtless Lord.

Chopping logs with a heavy axe. Blade of it glints wicked sharp in the sun as his thick arms swing it over, crossing it over his body to strike sharp down the centre of the log before him on the stand. The wood tumbled and clunked to the ground.

Chest gleaming slipping shimmering with sweat from his exertions. Stood in his obsidian breeches and boots to match, even in the winter cool of the courtyard. His shirt lay discarded on the nearest stall door. Folded cotton crumpled there.

She idly wonders as her eyes take all of his naked state in, why he was doing this himself when he probably had tens of hundreds of servants who could do it for him. She knows she not supposed to look. But she’s seen the bare beauty of him now and her eyes don’t wish to be rid of it-

She didn’t have any concerns that his frame was in any way unimpressive. But seeing him in such a bare manner merely reconfirmed what she already knew. He is broad in the shoulder, wide at the waist.

His chest doesn’t taper it remains a solid stack of muscle. His thick thick build of his arms flex. The trapezius lines slipping outwards from either side of his neck are intimidatingly big. As is the reach from his shoulders down over his pectorals.

He is a hugely broad warrior of a man. Crude. Monumental.

A few seconds have passed since she stumbled onto the sight of him. Though it felt longer. He raises his eyes to the movement of her. Though he hadn’t needed too. He could sense her walking up the front drive to come to him. Felt her presence here ever since she set foot on his land.

He unsticks the heavy axe from where it lodged chipping into the wood block stand below the logs he’s cutting up. He lets it hang down by his side. Grins wickedly across at his guest. Wall of muscular chest panting. Abdominal muscles flexing. His breath spirits silver out his smile up into the bitter air.

His smile is sinful and his eyes are shady with promiscuous motive. “Miss Ashton...” He greets her rakishly.

Fully aware of what the sight of him will do to her. How much it will stir her blood, get her blushing. The potent effect of him enchanting her lust. Dazzling her weak mortal senses.

“Your lordship. Do forgive me. I’d no idea you were-um. So-“ Her eyes flicker across to his chest again, darting away quick. But he saw her snatch a look through blushing hot cheeks.

“Informally attired?” He finishes for her confidently.

She gulps and nods. “Yes- I do beg your pardon.” She’s now turned three quarters away from him. Giving him a ample view of her profile. Looking rather like she wants to scamper back to the safety of the house. Those pink cheeks and her flustered breathing that pulses out her neck in a sudden unexpected rush of lust... It gets his temper straining at its hold when he senses it.

It’s captured the side of him that she should absolutely not want to rouse.

He lays the axe down. Standing it against the brick wall near the log shed. Shifts closer. She can hear his boots scrape on the cobbles. Dusted with hay and splintered wood chipping’s from his laborious work. His fine booted soles crackle and shift with it. He brings his shirt into his free hand. Leaves it folded down by his side.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He seeks smugly.

Her brain malfunctions. Caught on his choice of word. Pleasure. Pleasure. Pleasure-

She wills the impertinent thought away.

Feels him coming closer. The way his eyes stab into her coat. Rake along the back of her neck like dragging flint knives being drawn along her skin. She tries not to shiver too much at the not-entirely-unpleasant sensation.

“I just paid a call to deliver some tokens of gratitude from obliged Pembleton residents.” She offers.

“There’s um. Port and figs in honey. Some partridges. And some very excellent jam... Miss Smith, The Phillips and us Ashton’s all send our compliments.” She babbles.

He chuckles warmly. Stepping ever closer. Sparing her blushes and gazes. He slips the rumpled cotton of his shirt over his head and lets it fall, untucked, down to his thighs.

The open v neck tips to hang between his nipples. Dusky bronze discs of them. And the coarse smattering of dark hair brushes his chest too. She shouldn’t know that about a man.

“That’s very generous of you. I’m very fond of partridge. Do be sure to thank your family for me. For such a thoughtful offering.” He insists in a drawl that gets her smile increasing.

She chuckles. Feeling safer about meeting his eyes now. “Miss Smith was delighted. With your assurance of looking out for the murdering beast. She has decided to forgo the extra bolt on her bedroom door.” Iris explains.

“I fear she’s now quite enamoured with you. She said she means invite you over to take tea, very soon.”

Kylo raises a brow that instantly told Iris how very ridiculous and inconsequential her found the always-flustered Miss Smith.

“I might accept the invitation on the provisory condition that you accompany me. To keep me from beating my head against the wall in sheer desperation.” He smarts.

Iris chuckles lightly. She tries to swallow it down but she can’t.

“She is a little trying.” She confesses. She was a harmless woman. Just admired the sound of her own voice rabbiting on too much. And she fretted about every beast, man, and creature put on this earth. Everything was cause for suspicion with Miss Smith.

“She’s the most trying woman in all of the British Empire.” He declares lowly. His smile crooks up on one side.

Iris thinks for a second. Looking down at her shoes. “I do so hate to disagree with you, your lordship. But I fear that title must instead be awarded to my mother.” She smarts.

He chuckles rightfully loud. It’s warmer than all the winter sunshine that slopes down on them. Crinkles form near his eyes and his divots beside his mouth.

“Anyway-“ She begins. “I should take my leave. I’ve lingered far too long. You must have matters to attend...” She smiles. Dipping into a short curtsey. Flicking her eyes back up to him after she does.

“Nothing so urgent could possibly draw me away the honour of your visit.” He insists. Making unabashed eye contact with her. Face so open and genial. Eyes all melting honey and granite.

“I wouldn’t wish to importune you.” She says crossing her hands and holding them in front of her.

One ink brow curves up. “From my incredibly laborious and eventful morning of, chopping firewood?” He lets her infer her own conclusions.

“Well. I do have errands to take heed of. Back at Westwell.”

He smiles like the devil. Like he knew how Satan himself leers- which he very truly almost does. He’s seen the closest thing this earth knows to a demon, grin at him. White pearly smile so savage and handsome.

“Defer them.” He presses nicely. “I promised you a tour did I not? Come take a ride of Hellford Park with me and Erland.”

Iris swallows. “You wish me to- spend time with you, alone? unchaperoned?” She checks.

His eyes glow with that savage glimmer once more. The one that makes his eyes look like the most melting shade of black imaginable. Oh yes he did.

“I promise to be the very saintly soul of propriety.” He pledges. Cupping a hand over the black vacuum where his mortal heart once laid in his big chest.

“I won’t stand for indulging in any behaviour on my part if it severely discomforts you.” He vows seriously. She believes him. He was respectful enough to let her truly escape this endeavour if she wanted. He would never inopportune a woman for the benefit his own comforts.

Even if she stirs him up so violently like the way this woman does-

She tries not to follow where his hand lay on his body with her eyes. Tries not to look at that divine sticky chest again. Her head swims with comparisons of marble Greek gods swimming in salty tepid seas. Emerging dripping from the cobalt ocean.

She blushes. Yet again her silly female heart betrays her. She hesitates for a second- she should say no. A polite girl would be a shrinking violet and scurry away at such a bold suggestion.

She should turn her back and apologise profusely, head on back toward the house. She should walk home, the cool air stinging at her hot cheeks. She should go and think about scrubbing their curtains back home. Or arranging flowers. Or donning her apron and helping cook on with peeling the maris pipers in preparation for supper.

She looks at his eyes again. Words fly from her mouth before her brain comprehends how it came to an answer. He truly was an enchanting creature.

“I’d be delighted.” She nods bravely.

It wasn’t what should be done. But it’s what she so desperately wanted to do.

Westwell has had 23 years of her looking after everyone and everything in it. They can miss her for a meagre few hours whilst she finally puts herself first.

“Allow me to briefly adjourn and attire myself correctly. Then I’ll see to having the horses tacked up.” He excuses himself. Smiles all wicked, and turns to head for the doorway in the brick wall near the logs he was cutting up.

She flushed and almost fell faint to a dizzy spell. Seeing his finely muscled back as it lumbered away from her. Slicked with sweat.

She watched the savage blades of his shoulders, as sharp as that axe blade he’d been swinging. Her eyes stuck on the three slashes of scars that rake deep over the left jutting bone hill of his scapula. Where an animals claws had long ago cut and torn into his skin.

If she knew just precisely how long ago- she’d faint.

A time she can’t even comprehend. An age away. An age she’s only studied in books. An age he can moderately remember anymore. It was several centuries past him now.

He remembers towering pine tree tops scraping at the sky. How bitter bitter snow blazed and churned between the tips. The ruddy tang of houses back then cast solidly out of timber and roofed with straw. The smell of the sticky sap bleeding out the wood. The ash from the open fires and the clog of acrid woodsmoke sunk into the fur pelt he wore around his shoulders. The beast that had scarred him on his back and left him to rot away with fever of the wound. Left Kylo clinging desperately onto life by his dirty fingernails.

He found that creature. He sunk his knife into that brutes belly and gutted it. He wore that black pelt with savagely earned pride. The gloom of longhouse where feasts, battles, births and politics were celebrated. The place that reeked of ash, the stench of smoking meat and the sour reek of stale urine from the odiferous tannery, when the frigid wind blew and shuddered into the village in the right direction.

Back breaking labour was crucial for survival. Farming and hunting and warring. Truer dignity in hard work than any of these perfumed dandies of the fashionable ton knew about.

He’d been brought up in those freezing acetous lands. He’d farmed for oats and barley and rye in the summers. Then one winter, he trained as a soldier. Upholding the honour of his family and willing to go and to defend his people.

Then he went to war- His fate was violently and horribly rearranged.

He’d marched right on in to fight a battle from which he’d never return home. Never would he be the same man. He was offered instead, a sweet mercy of a deathless death. And he greedily snatched it with both hands- glutted himself on its chance.

It was all so different back then. Life was so brutal. Compared to the pomp and ridiculous circumstances the narrow minded people in this village are governed ruthlessly by, by things they think matter.

When he thinks of the contrasts to the two societies it makes him sick. All the stuffy airs and graces and endless bowing and scraping. Veiled insults cloaked as compliments. Velvet draped over daggers.

He vastly preferred this world back when it was a more feral one. Atleast then he knew where he stood.

When there were no falsehoods or lies floating out sugared words from simpering sickening smiles. Here, when one thing was said to his face, quite another was hissed behind his back when he turned. Maybe he was just a relic of a time long since over-maybe maybe maybe.

He goes into the stable rooms, where he left his jacket and other attire earlier. Luckily there’s a washroom out here that was used on hunts if the work got bloody. He washes himself down from the basin and jug of cold water, and clears away the salt of his sweat. Pats himself dry and redressed in his fine jacket, white shirt and white cravat. Atop a burgundy waistcoat.

When he steps back out, buttoning his thick wool jacket. Silver buttons blazing proud in the sun, he sees Miss Ashton at Erland’s stall. The stubborn animal nudged into her shoulder again as she strokes his handsome velveteen forehead. Remembering her. Thinking she had more treats to bestow.

He comes across and chides his horse in the Bavarian tongue he was trained by. “Nett Sein. Erland.” Kylo barks across low at his horse as he walks over. Be kind.

He then adds, chiding him, that he shouldn’t be disrespectful to ladies. Croons to him. Speaking fluently in his own language. Stroking his nose as the horse turns and nibbles at his masters coat shoulder and snuffles his hair with his hot, hay scented breath. Kylo pats the chunky meat of his solid corded neck.

She strokes a hand over his silken mane. Hair harshly stiff and bushy under her gloves. Parted to one side over his neck and shoulders as the animal bows his head down for the handful of oats Kylo held out for him. Erland snuffles them up in a mere matter of seconds. Chews on the cud’s and almost headbutts his master for more.

Miss Ashton laughs. “You were right about his stubborn blood. So I see.”

“One of the most obstinate beasts on four legs.” Kylo promises with a grin.

“Would you mind riding one of our mares, Miss Ashton? They are generally easier of temper.”

“Not at all.” She accepts.

He steps back and urges her over to the next stall. Here, a shimmering white horse awaits them. Brushed coat glistening the way untarnished snow lays sparkling in the sun. Bright and pure.

This horses mane and snout is an ash grey. The same colour bleeds up past her fetlocks. There’s some dappled patches of pebble grey also on her flanks and rear. She was the sweetest mare with the softest temperament. She stays in her stall but gently cautiously seeks Kylo’s hand to eat the food her offered her. He strokes her neck fondly.

“This is Kana. Shortened from the old Norse word for Birch tree.” Kylo’s introducing her. The mares ears twitch with her mentioned name. “So named, if I recall because her coat resembles the colours of the trunk.”

“She’s beautiful.” Iris insists. Rubbing up the flag bone between her eyes. Kana appreciates the caress with an equine little snort.

Across from them. The stable boy has brought Erland out his stable to tack him for their ride. Kylo and Iris stay stroking the sweet white mare. Stood at her stall.

“Do you ride them out often?” She asks.

“Every morning with Erland if I can manage it. Sometimes at night too. If sleep evades me.” He tells. Sleep always evades him. The one curse of immortality.

“This poor old girl deserves as good a chance as any to stretch her legs.” He smiles.

Another stable hand comes out and gently leads the white mare from her stall. She stands quietly as she’s tacked. Erland however? He pounded the cobbled floor with a scraping hoof and was twitching with excitement to be ridden. He bays and snorts and huffs until he gets his way.

When his bridle and bit are slipped on, Kylo steps over and soothingly rubs his shoulder. “You, are an intemperate old beast.” He chides to his horse, as the stable boy lifts the fender to secure the cinch strap around Erland’s strong belly.

After they’ve tacked her mare, the stable boys see to their other work. Bidding them a good ride. Kylo leaves Erland for a moment and steps around Kana to help Miss Ashton safe into the saddle.

He takes her hand as she holds her skirts decently and levies herself up to her horses height via a handy wooden footstool. There is still a shimmering spark of contact when his hand closes around hers to hold. Even though they are both wearing gloves. The thrill of it is wilder and more potent than ever.

She sets herself side-saddle. Takes the reins in her gloved hands. Gets used to the sturdy solid weight of the animal beneath her.

Lord Ren heads back to Erland and hoists himself onto his strong back. In all his tall glory he didn’t need assistance into the saddle.

He leads their walk out under the stone arch of the stables, and into the winter sunshine. He pulls Erland up flush to her and Kana’s side when the path widens out.

They walk a to a slow paced trot through the dewy grass, that follows along the merry ash and taupe brown of the silver and white of birch winter woodland to their right. He was entirely correct about Kana. The sweet horse was gentle and unassuming in her nature.

Iris sighs happily as she sees the sunlight cast an enchanting amber through all those pale trees. The waxy nectar of tulips drifting in the air from the Dutch gardens nearby. It was like something beautiful out of a dream.

“You were right about the beauty of the ride. Your Lordship.” Iris remarks as she watches the amber stripes slope through the birches.

He turns his head and catches that very same view she’d remarked on. He’d seen a million woodlands in his life. Over numerous centuries. And the place he spawned from was between tall pines and a ground eaten up thick with snow. He’s seen every copse of nature on every continent that exists. This view was stale to him. But he appreciates her admiration of it.

“I suppose it is.” He says offhand.

“What made you choose to settle at Hellford Park?” She asks him. “If that’s not an impertinence.” She adds. Smoothing her grey gloved hand over Kana’s neck.

He smiles. “The house seemed of a decent size. The land holdings were vast. And I appreciate having my own space away from society. My worst nightmare is being wedged into a modern townhouse in London. With all the smog and the ton being rammed down my neck. I far prefer the country. The quieter pace of life.” He tells her.

“Easier for hunting and sport...” He adds.

“I feel easier knowing nature is on my doorstep. I need only walk out and be in it.” He explained.

“I can’t bear the thought of a town life. I bless every year that my family haven’t the capital to rent a place in town.” Iris tells him. Probably not something she should admit. But she felt like her honesty was safe with him.

“The most of town I’ve ever seen is a season in Bath when I debuted at sixteen. We managed to stay with my aunt and cousins. I thank heavens we’ve never repeated the experience.” He makes a firm sound of fond agreement.

“I’ve seen the way you take to country life.” Kylo smiles at her. She nods across at him.

“Same as you. Your Lordship. I appreciate the peace and quiet. Able to go and walk in the woods and be where my thoughts and wishes are my own. No one else’s expectations get forced upon me.” She says.

“Nothing I like better to soothe my mind than walking around the Hampshire wilderness...” She comments as they head along a lane under a glade of golden elm trees.

“I hope you don’t going adventuring out after dark, Miss Ashton. Even such tame country places can grow afoul after nightfall.” He warns her. Even in this genial little village he’s glimpsed the vile echelons of scum hereabouts.

“Oh. I never run errands outside Westwell after dark.” She puts his mind at ease. “Mother thinks my evenings are best spent extensively reading of the Mirror of the graces and better improving my embroidery.” She tells him.

He’s honest in his answering remark. Where most men she associated with would call her fine and sensible for indulging in etiquette novels. Kylo can’t think of anything more intrepid.

“I can think of a million better ways in which I’d rather indulge my evenings.” He offers sincerely.

“I don’t tell her that I often escape to my room to read my Johnathan Swift novel and to get a bit of peace away from her and my sisters.” She says with glad derision.

Kylo smiles at her. “A far better use of your time, I’m certain.” He tells her.

“Do you have any family?” She asks. And then she winces. “Sorry if I’m irritating you with nagging questions-“

He smiles. He’ll answer any question she aims his way.

“I did. A long time ago. It’s just me left now.” He imparts.

She glances back at the gigantic house of Hellford. Save for staff, he had no one in it.

“Doesn’t that ever get lonely?” She’s asking.

“Don’t you?” He questions back nicely. Melting eyes catching hers. Sunlight spun them to amber glowing off dark walnut.

She can’t help but nod. She doesn’t have many friends in this world. She has a greek harpy for a mother - talons, scales forked tongue and all. Her sisters were about as dense to understand as a Chelsea boot. Air headed and with no substance. And her father, loving though he is, is usually preoccupied in his study or being bullied down by mother. She doesn’t really have anyone.

“I’ve never been left alone a day in my life. I’m permanently surrounded by noise and people yet- I’ve always felt... lonely.” She admits. Looking down to her hands where she held Kana’s reins.

“It’s a privilege to finally have liberty to be able to express that to another living creature.” She smiles gladly at him.

Kylo looks over at her. Brow furrowed. She does so many things for other people. She cares after every member of her dratted family. And she’s got this two tonne grey weight of sadness pressing down on her shoulders.

It’s no secret he doesn’t care for the piddling and idle emotions of fleeting mere humans. But he so cares for her.

“You never have to feel lonely if you don’t wish too.” He offers.

“You have my confidence. And all that my acquaintance and friendship can offer to you. Miss Ashton.” Whether she likes it or not- she does. She has it. He firmly and fondly tells her so.

“I’m very thankful for it. Vastly thankful.” She promises. “I could use a friend just now. With all the terrible circumstances happening in Pembleton.” She relays with a note of grimness.

Erland snorts. Kylo pats his neck to sooth him. “Yes. The uh- madman Miss Smith raves about.” He recalls. “I’m sure it is the imaginings of her overworked mind.” He tells.

Iris supposed that was a very accurate statement. Kylo had only met the awful woman once, too. And he already had sussed her flighty panicked character. That spoke volumes of her temperament.

“Not to make mention of the supposed wolf thats said to be stalking these parts...” She adds.

“An exaggerated tale, do you think?” He asks.

“Well. I do subscribe to my fathers notion that wolves did die out centuries ago- but who knows? An animal that big and vicious, I’m all astonishment it hasn’t been spotted before now. This is a farming county. There’s poultry and livestock for the taking. Why would it bother with drunkards in the middle of the forest.”

“Easier to stalk. And pick out- I imagine.” He smiles just a little. His gleaming eyes hold back his many dark secrets.

He hears her inhale a shaky breath. He hears her throat pulsing next to him.

“You know, you shouldn’t be afraid.” He starts. “Of the alleged wolf. If, heaven forfend, there is one.” He surmised.

“Why ever not?” She searches. Face pulled back. A little shocked.

“Because wolves are not just blood thirsty beasts. They are intelligent and sociable animals. They are more likely to be spooked by a human than want to kill them. The reason those men were attacked? They were half clumsy, gone on drink and weakly vulnerable.” He tells.

Iris swallows. Brings Kana to a stop. “Lord Ren...” She gulps. “You talk as if you-“

She takes a deep breath to fortify herself. “As if you know of such a thing...” She finally remarks.

He stops Erland and doesn’t shy - from her glance or her question.

“I know merely how wolves operate. Miss Ashton. Nothing more.” He says openly.

Of course he does. She thinks stupidly. His home. Back in Bavaria. He said it was surrounded by wolves. He’s no doubt seen some people succumb to the packs of them.

There’s silence for a minute as Kana and Erland chew at their bits. Clacking and shifting its crunch in the air. Erland leans his head over and snuffles Kanas snout. The creak of leather eases out in a squeak from The reins in Kylo’s hands.

She nods. Cheeks beating. The shame of foolishness slithering up her spine. “Forgive me-“

“I would if there was something to forgive.” He smiles.

She ducks her head. Cheeks pink as she tips her chin to her chest. She sighs in bliss as she looks out at the open field before them. Before she gets a niggling flare of a brilliant yet stubborn idea in her head.

“For once in my life...” She insists, almost angrily, Kylo’s eyes shift to how she shoves herself, adjusting on Kana’s saddle. She bunches her skirts. Leans back and he sees a flash of a white cotton chemise and pearly wool stockings as she swings her legs over, the both of them now astride the saddle.

“I intend to do something completely and utterly dishonourable and unfeminine.” She says.

Kylo’s smiling at the sight of her skirts draped up almost over her calves where she’s sat on the horse. He watches her adjust the reins in her hands and skip her feet into the solid stirrups.

With a gentle kick into Kana’s flank she braces herself on the horse, as the mare proceeds to lurch into a gallop, breaking into the frosty meadow in front of them. Her blue coat flaps behind her. Kylo smiles after her lead. Adjusts Erland’s reins and spurs him on after her.

For just that afternoon, for just those heart pumping minutes of uninterrupted bliss- Iris feels the sun bleaching onto her face, and the wind stinging and ripping at her hair. She feels her body and her soul stirring. For just those few minutes, she doesn’t feel like a trapped suffocating girl. Like a toy being manoeuvred in the dolls house that was her strict life.

They gallop up the field and through another one. Coming up a trail that rises onto a hill in the sunny wood. She slows down when she gets to the top. Lord Ren catches up behind her. Erland could really get up a speed when he got going.

She comes to a stop where the hill levels out. Looking across all the acres of Hellford park. She’s still winded from the ride. Sun and wind having kissed her cheeks a bright pink. Where she ducked past low branches in the forest, Kylo spies a green leaf nestled captured in her hair. Making her comparable to some frolicking wood nymph.

He draws Erland up by her and Kana’s side. Listens to her panting as they take in the view of Hellford together.

“Truly is a beautiful house, your lordship. I hope you’ll be very happy here.”

“A truly fine prospect.” He agrees. Looking out at all his wealth. All his grandeur and land.

“Finest land holding in all of England I expect.” She smiles. Still panting for breath. He can hear how her blood beats like sweet syrup around her body. He can smell her skin and he is just- a man whose found heaven on earth.

“Indeed it is. Nothing quite like it.” He admits. Iris doesn’t see how he turned to look and admire her rather than the view. Intoxicated by the tug and pulse of the artery her throat. It thunders her neck and it’s all he can hear or think about.

Kissing her. Tasting her neck. Her skin. The subtle perfume of her body. Her caresses.

He might aswell be a man half starved-wild at this point.

They ride back to the stables. Slowly together. Conversing along the way. She changes back to side saddle as they get closer - didn’t wish for his stable hands to catch sight of her and remark on how unladylike she’d been.

Kylo slips off Erland and hands him across to be untracked. He marches up to Kana’s side and takes Iris’s hand to help her slip down from the mares saddle.

Only, fate seems determined to drive them into each other’s arms at every foreseeable opportunity. Her skirts snag on the pommel and this makes her fall onto her feet too fast.

Kylo’s there to catch her. She’s once again, wedged now between Kana’s back and his chest. She thuds down to the ground with a soft “oof.” Escaping her lungs.

That escalated when she looked up and found him so, brilliantly close. He towers over her, he’s twice her width in his shoulders alone. But he’s gazing at her so tenderly. His hand had shot to her waist to steady her outside her coat. The span of it reaches from her ribs almost to her hip.

It’s somehow more dizzying to be nearer him now she’s seen what form lies under those clothes. The sheer immensity of this man.

He looks up into her hair and smiles a tipped up curl of a crooked grin. His fingers reach up and skim away the leaf caught in her hair. She blushes and laughs a little when he shows her.

She touched over the spot his fingers had skimmed. The skin still burned with heat and cold from the leather of his gloves.

“I had the most pleasant afternoon.” She encourages. Swallowing nervously again. He can smell her hot throat. Her hot bare throat and it’s addictive- to be so close as this to his biggest temptation.

“Thankyou very much for your hospitality, Your Lordship.” She adds.

“And you for yours.” He thanks her for the baskets she’d bought. He breaks the trance. Turns back and calls to one of the stable boys to ready the carriage to take Miss Ashton home.

“Oh, please. You needn’t bother. I don’t mind the walk.” She tries to fuss

“I insist on seeing a lady safely home. It is all of five miles from here to Westwell.” He announces. She smiles in gratitude.

He parts with her at the coach door, after it’s brought around. He holds her spare hand as her other clutches at her skirts and she steps up into the scarlet black box of it- to think on all that had passed between them since she first saw this coach mere days ago.

If only she knew how much-

He kisses her hand in parting. “A delight as ever, Miss Ashton. I do hope you visit Hellford again.” He urges.

“As do I.” She beams back. Leaning forwards to look at him through the carriage door. He smiles before he steps away. Hands behind his back again. He nods to the driver, who cracks the whip on the horses and the coach lurches away. Takes her home. Safe away from him.

She passes the ride to Westwell in his comfortable carriage, remarking with a sly smile to herself about the pleasantness of the afternoon. Looking out the window as the carriage shakes and cracks and tumbled speedily along the road, she noticed how the sun is dipping low into a evening sky. Misty purple and burnt peach copper. She wonders if she’s been missed at all.

As soon and she alights the coach, thank’s the driver and slips inside Westwell’s front door. No sooner than she pushes the door shut, flat to her back on the wood to close it. And she is ambushed by her mother.

The foyer is dark save for the amber fire. Daylight dies in the window frames. Here there is gloom waiting for her. Her crushing boa of a life wraps around her neck again.

She is greeted with a pursed thin lipped glare of displeasure. Mother rips herself up to a stand from the armchair by the fire and snaps her book to slam shut. Loudly. Like a slap. Looking across at her daughter.

Happiness shatters in her chest like a glass vase being dropped. The splinters and shards clog up her once happy heart.

“Where in the devil’s name have you been?” She demands to know.

“Paying call to Lord Ren.” Iris says. Moving into the house. Intending for the stairs. She doesn’t wish to be bitten by this poisonous viper. Not tonight. She’s had such a wonderful day to reflect on.

“I beg your pardon?” Her mother remarks.

“You heard me perfectly well.” Iris says flatly.

“I dropped off the basket Mrs Phillips and Miss Smith sent to him in gratitude.” She adds in explanation.

“I can’t think what gratitude they could possibly owe to that man.” She curses.

“Why do you think so ill of him? What possible vexation has he caused you?” Iris accuses.

“Pray tell why do you praise him so?” Her mother narrows her eyes.

“He is a kind man. And he has the phenomenal benefit of having a working brain unlike all the preening idiots I usually have to comport myself in front of.” Iris explains.

“I will not tolerate anymore stupidity. Think of our reputation to uphold. You were gone half of the afternoon. And I’d no clue as to where. And now you’re telling me you were in the company of a man, unchaperoned?” She shrills.

“Yes I was.” Iris spits out plainly. “And there was no impropriety in it. Before you start accusing me of that.” She adds.

Lifting her skirts and beginning to stomp away up the stairs. Mouth bitter and full of anger dashed with sadness. Mourning her beautiful day.

“Do you have any idea what this could do to us? To our family name? Running around unsupervised with a man like that-”

Iris turns back. Fuming. Hair wild. Eyes bright with rage. Glittering spitfire red from the hearth.

“For once in my life, mother. I did not think! And I was glad of it! I did not need reminding of the fact you use me as a chess piece for this family’s hopes. Seizing my skirts and dragging me from square to square to make sure I catch a man of fortune and hale breeding.” Iris fairly yells. Voice scraping hoarse through her throat.

Her mother stands in the foyer like some grim harbinger of doom in her plum muslin dress that looks black in the gloom. Her face sternly cross and icy at her daughters outburst. Her pale claw of a bony hand gripping the banister.

“You will not associate with him again.” She tells stonily.

“I wrote to Armitage Hux today. He travels back from London tomorrow and I’ve stated he is excessively welcome to come to tea.” She explains.

“You will put on your best dress and make him welcome. And let him entertain the idea of a marriage match. Don’t be a fool Iris. A man like Lord Ren would never wish for your hand. Learn that now and be done with it. It’s time you took our family situation seriously.” She comments with finality.

She takes her hand off the banister and walks away. Words ringing in her ears like knives stabbing at her brain.

Iris’ pounding heart hardens over with grey nausea and glass shards that stab her lungs. Her eyes flood with quivering and filling up of silvery tears.

She slips up the wooden stairs to her room and collapses into great fits of tears. Muffling her sobs with her hand. She wipes off her face and her stinging eyes.

Kylo felt her dread, all those miles away at Hellford Park. He felt it like a punch to the gut.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

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