#anyway good luck I know it's a pain to get through lessons

[misc-obeyme]

hellooo!!! may i ask about your cards to reach lesson 48? 👀 like what kind of cards do you have in terms of rarity and at which level are they??

Hi there, anon!

I will tell you the quick answer to this question, but I feel the need to preface by saying that I pay for the VIP subscription and occasional additional devil points (this is rare, the sub is usually enough for me to get what I want lol).

Fast answer: For demon cards, I have three UR+ cards for each sin, all of which are somewhere between level 90 and 105. For memory cards, I have three UR cards for each sin, levels between 80 and 90. I unlock as much of the devil's tree as I can, but if I only have two skill levels, then I only do that much.

This allows me to skip the lesson battles if I use the strongest version of Ruri's shovel thing. I can't remember what it's called at the moment adklfjf but you know, it's the little shovel item? If I use one of those, I can clear the battle at rank A which means I can skip. I think this is a VIP thing, too, but I don't remember for sure.

That means I'm not entirely sure exactly how high the levels of your cards need to be to pass in general. Because I spent so much time between lessons in OG trying to level everything up enough to pass battles, I have been meticulously building my cards ever since NB was released. I just didn't want to have to wait MONTHS between lessons lol.

That being said, my lovely mutual created an amazing tool to help you level up your cards! You can find it here! I highly recommend using it, especially if you're an f2p player!

I know getting through the levels can be difficult if you're not spending money on the app. And even though I try to spend as little as I can, I'm still using real money which gives me extra resources to get all those cards and level them up. I just happen to be lucky enough to have a little extra to use on silly things like this.

I hope this helps a little, but if you (or anyone else!) have any other questions, please feel free to ask me!

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about French gendered terms and Zoro trying to suss out if Sanji’s into men and I had some thoughts and oops now i wrote a thing so here you go:

In the early days Zoro drives himself nuts trying to figure out if Sanji bats for his team too or not. He listens in intently whenever the conversation steers the cook towards talk of his past dalliances, but, just his luck, none of the words used indicate their gender. And there ain’t no fucking way in hell he’s asking him or anyone on the crew directly, lest they immediately understand how bad he has it for the stupid cook.

He bides his time, surely someday he’ll slip up and mention something about the people he’s slept with, right? And sure enough one day, at a feast, a drunken Usopp starts asking what people’s types are. His face still schooled into a nonchalant, neutral expression, he does his best to hide how desperately he waits for Sanji to speak up about his type, only to once again be met with more general terms about people- someone with a kind heart, dependable, an equal… he’s so concentrated on trying to pick out any gendered terms he doesn’t notice the weird look Nami throws his way at each new descriptor in Sanji’s list of desirable traits.

He’s always known Sanji speaks French, finding it endearing whenever the cook curses (even at him), whenever he goes into small little rants to himself, or the face he makes when he can only think of a word in French, rapidly snapping his fingers until it comes back to him. But it’s only when they get to a town where Sanji starts speaking to a vendor excitedly about his produce that he realizes just how much this thing, this endearing thing that’s always been there, truly affects him, and his face burns at how different the cook’s voice sounds when he actually speaks it, how enchantingly low and throaty the foreign syllables ring in his ears.

Attached to living another day, he decides that stealing a book from Robin is a bad idea, and resigns himself to ask her directly for a favour. He swallows his pride and asks if she can lend him a French learning book and a dictionary, curious as to whether he can learn it a bit, and understand whatever the hell Sanji keeps cursing and muttering about around him, and what kinds of insults he’s been throwing his way. With her ever mysterious smile plastered on her face, a chain of Robin’s arms retrieve two books from her library and hand them to him. “Do come to me if you have any questions, Mr. Swordsman. My French is pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He’s out of the room, red as a beet, before she even finishes that sentence.

Learning the curse words comes to him unsurprisingly quickly given how often he hears a litany of « putain de merde », « fait chier! » and « enfoiré! » spilling from the blonde’s distracting mouth.

He’s very happily surprised when he learns that French is apparently a heavily gendered language- and that he can glean someone’s gender just from whether the adjectives applied to the subject are masculine or feminine. Now if the stars aligned and the cook would talk about his love life in French…

Zoro starts by going through the basic first chapters, taking great pains to hide and quickly dissimulate it in his haramaki anytime someone walks in on him- especially the witch. It definitely changes his usual routine on his watch in the crows nest, he muses to himself.

Weeks, months pass, and he advances further in the lessons, his vocabulary slowly growing, while he often goes to his dictionary for the more… colorful insults Sanji throws his way. He never says a word of French himself, not knowing how he could even justify knowing any without looking suspicious, and pretty sure his pronunciation would be way off anyways. But he starts to really enjoy it, being able to understand even a tenth of the things Sanji thinks he can say without the crew (save Robin) understanding.

And then Saobaody happens. And now he doesn't have time to think about learning French, not if he wants to get strong enough. Not if he wants to protect his crew.

He's at the table with Mihawk and Perona when his mentor asks for the salt (Passez moi le sel, s'il vous plait), and he executes himself without thinking. A quiet settles over the room and he looks up to see those intense red eyes boring into him, unnerving as ever.

"You speak French?"

"Not really," he grumbles, not wanting more excuses to think of the shitty cook, and his shitty cooking, and his stupid curly brow.

"Then you will. Consider this a natural continuation of my trying to beat some manners into your brutish mind."

Two years later, and he can't wait for dartbrow to show up. His pronunciation may still be shit, but he can't wait to use his newfound skill to his advantage.

With his now solidified grasp of the language, he slowly begins to understand that what he at first though was a mistake on his part- that he must’ve missed a part of a sentence, or mixed up some words- was not an error at all. It turns out, some of the French things that Sanji yells at him aren’t insults at all.

In fact… they’re sometimes downright complimentary.

And that's definitely a problem for Zoro, who now not only needs to keep pretending that he doesn’t know what Sanji is saying, but needs to pretend he doesn’t understand it when Sanji screams at him that he has a “stupidly pretty face” or that his “tits are even bigger than Nami’s and how is that even fair” . He doesn't know what to make of it.

And then one day… the stars align.

It’s another post battle party, and the cook has been drinking a bit more than usual, a tightly gripped glass of wine in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Zoro is nursing his very own barrel of Ale when he hears the conversation turn to more gossipy topics, as it usually does the further into the night they are.

“Chopper was really into that nurse on Zou, wasn’t he?” Usopp starts to poke fun at the crew’s youngest member, laughing as the reindeer turns all red and tries to deny it.

“I mean it makes sense that she’d be his type! Right Nami?”

Nami nods at him, grinning wickedly. “Yeah, not all of us can be into rich little blonde girls can we?”

“You’re right, some of us are into rich blue-haired princesses,” he shoots back.

"At least I had the balls to do something about it before I left her island-"

Zoro is already tuning them out when Sanji sits down next to Robin just a few feet away, across from him and the campfire, his tongue loosened from a few too many refills and unconsciously reverting to his native tongue.

"Ils ont de la chance, ces deux là." he gestures to Usopp and Nami. (They're lucky, these two.)

Robin smiles at the cook, wordlessly prompting him to continue his thoughts.

"Qu'est ce que je donnerais pour pouvoir avoir quelque chose de plus qu'un coup d'un soir." Sanji sighs wistfully, lighting his cigarette. (What I wouldn't give to have something more than a one night stand.")

Robin chuckles. "Ne sont-ils pas satisfaisants?" (Are they not satisfying?)

At this point Zoro has tuned everything out, intensely focused on hearing what the blonde has to say, and not at all feeling a small churn of jealousy in his stomach for whoever shared Sanji's bed. His heart initially skips a beat at the plural masculine pronoun ('ils') used by Robin before remembering its actual neutrality in this context, as it's referring to the ""one night stands", a masculine word. Damnit. French is so dumb.

"Tu sais bien que je ne dirais jamais de mal à propos des belles demoiselles qui ont bien voulu m'accorder ne serait-ce qu'un baiser ou une étreinte. J'ai de la chance rien que d'avoir pu exister en leur présence."

(You very well know I'd never say a bad word about any of the beautiful ladies who've been kind enough to give me even a kiss or an embrace. I'm lucky just to have existed in their presence.)

Zoro feels his heart drop, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He's always known the pervert cook has been into women. Why was this confirmation hitting him the way it was? His eye darts up at his two crewmates, confirming that only Robin has noticed his eavesdropping. She opens her mouth to say something but Sanji continues, the glow of the flames dancing against his flushed skin beautifully.

"Et dans mon état normal tu sais que, par respect pour les sensibilités d'une dame, je ne te divulge pas beaucoup de détails sur ceux qui font l'affaire le temps d'une nuit. "

(And in my normal state you know that, out of respect for a lady's sensibilities, I don't divulge many details about those who do the trick for a night.)

Ceux. That's a masculine word for "those", isn't it? Zoro shakily takes another sip of his drink.

The archeologist's smile widens. "Oh, ne te fait pas de soucis pour mes sensibilités. Je brûle d'envie d'en savoir plus, et ne m'épargne pas les détails..."

(Oh, please don't worry about my sensibilities. I'm burning to know more, and don't spare me the details...)

"Je ne suis que ton humble serviteur...si ça peut te faire plaisir" (I'm but your humble servant…if it pleases you). Sanji's cheeks seem a tad more flushed than before. "En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants...c'est qu'il ne sont jamais... assez."

(It's not that they're not satisfying…it's that they're never...enough.)

"Ah? Et que recherches tu? Qu'est ce qui serait..."assez"?"

(Ah? And what are you looking for? What would be… "enough"?)

The cook exhales another cloud of smoke, and nervously looks around. His eyes settle on Zoro, and indecision flits across his eyes for a second before continuing. Zoro can feel his gaze, can almost make out the deliciously unfocused expression on the blonde's face in his peripheral vision as he continues speaking French. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage.

"Lui." (Him.)

Zoro forgets how to breathe.

Part 2 up now , and part 3 part 4

[ariespetal]

i heard you wish to be talked to about komahina. my time has arrived. i’m going to use this as an excuse to dump postgame headcanons on you :)

i think they take care of each other in a lot of really subtle ways. hajime for sure overworks himself a lot so nagito will trick him into taking breaks by asking him for help with little unimportant things like crosswords or choosing which book he should read next- then once he’s got hajime’s attention he gets him to sit down and chat and bam now he’s taken a break. he’s also like the only one who can get hajime to go to bed when he’s up way too late working on something. along a similar vein hajime will make sure nagito is eating enough by bringing him fruits and nuts and such :) he for sure gets lectured about drinking enough water especially since he still insists on wearing a jacket on a tropical island

they’re both migraine sufferers but nagito in particular is prone to getting auras with his migraines. they are very used to keeping their cottage dark and quiet when someone’s feeling under the weather and they go through painkillers faster than anyone else on the island (which is almost concerning bc they are far from the only ones on the island who deal with chronic pain)

hajime naturally runs warm and nagito naturally runs cold. as a result hajime sleeps in just his boxers whereas nagito has a whole pajama set he changes into each night. hajime will sprawl out in his sleep and nagito clings onto him like a koala. it’s actually a very efficient system for them they regulate each others’ temperatures

they help each other through their rough days and are better equipped than any of their peers to help each other. it’s the mutual understanding and seeing themselves in each other. when hajime’s dissociating or feeling especially guilty nagito’s able to help remind him of who he is and all the people he’s been able to help since getting out of the nwp. when nagito’s doomspiraling or feeling especially worthless hajime’s the only one who can reliably snap him out of it and remind him that he’s loved and safe. they’re not perfect and they both still struggle but they’re able to bring each other comfort

their arguments can be NASTY (especially at first when they’re still just starting to recover) but they’re bad at apologizing with words so they find other ways to make it up to each other- usually acts of service or little gifts. when hajime feels bad he’ll bring nagito his favorite snacks or recommend him new books or try to find ways to upgrade the spaces on the island he knows nagito likes to use. when nagito feels bad he’ll clean and organize spaces meticulously and try to use his luck to find something important hajime would be able to use in a project. eventually when they start learning to communicate with each other a little better they start doing silent apologies with little acts of physical affection- they’ll sit down next to each other and gently lean against each other or place their hand over the other’s and squeeze, etc. they never get good at saying “i’m sorry” but they get good at showing and understanding it

nagito once tried to make hajime a cake for his birthday. it was a miracle he didn’t burn anything down and the end result was inedible but hajime really appreciated the sentiment anyways. nagito was banned from being in kitchens unsupervised after this, which he agreed was reasonable. hajime (and teruteru probs) has since tried to give him cooking lessons but he just. he isn’t good at it. he’s trying his best but dear god is it bad

when they’re lounging nagito will just. drape himself over hajime like a cat. it is very common to find nagito resting his head on hajime’s chest in a lounge chair or laying across his lap reading a book on a sofa. it embarrasses hajime a little bit when nagito does this in public but they’re both so touch starved that he doesn’t say shit bc he knows they both need the affection. (and if he not-so-secretly enjoys running his hands through nagito’s hair and feeling him relax, well, who can blame him?)

ok this is getting rambly i’m gonna stop here. i love talking about komahina and i love postgame komahina especially so thank you for enabling me there. hope this helps satisfy the itch in your brain as well. it’s all about the learning to heal and love and grow happy together to me. waaaaaauuuughh they’ve been through so much they deserve to be able to do nothing together <333 komahina,,,,, yeagh

YESSSS these are all so good I live for post-game komahina 🥺

They’re so wonderful for each other, I love the idea of them getting over their disagreements and taking care of one another, literally soulmates dude :’)

Anyways I’m rotating all of these headcanons around in my brain thank you for this 🙏🫡 (and I just had to draw out koala-komaeda, I’m glad everyone agrees this is how they sleep)

[sanniedaysmarsnights]

Dark and Twisted Threads of Fate | Series 5 - Mafia!ATEEZ x reader Part 8

Masterlist

First chapter

Previous chapter (chapter 7)

A/N: Omg I was so stuck on this bit for ages but thanks to @haet-sal I finally managed to make my way through!! Boy let me tell you are we up for some feels after this. Good luck reading <3 <3

Tagging: @baekmond @whyme11 @atiny-99 @twilightwei @lovelyaegyo @hongjoongs-rightpinky @nervousbasementtimemachine @jjangsaebyuk @diyanamira @soytrash

Word count: About 2,5K :)

Warnings: Brief non-con (not to reader), some murder and torture, a nice bucket of trauma, stockholm syndrome and then some fluff. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK- THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION; I DO NOT CONDONE *ANY* OF IT

Anyway, enjoy!

Life continued on as always, the seasons shifting gradually towards autumn. The trees on the estate gradually turned their leaves to orange in preparation to let them fall. The cooling temperatures didn't seem to have any effect on the proceedings of ATEEZ, the mansion always buzzing like a bees nest. You had always wondered if Hongjoong was truly so busy that he would rarely make an appearance in his own living quarters, or if he was simply avoiding you. But as hopeful you were to see more of him after the recent events, that didn't change either.

Hongjoong's absence made you question things. It was one thing to confide in his most trusted members, but to put your faith into the lead man himself like that? What were you thinking?

You told yourself that they must have once been very much like yourself, backed into a corner with little choice but to lash out. But now they so clearly thrived, even basked in the gore and glory. Another sting in your gut. Perhaps it was not so much that they might have been like you, but that you were starting to become like them instead. 'They must have a good motivation behind what they do.' you told yourself.

You had learned a lesson about snooping around the house, but these days you were becoming so bored you decided to look for company of the boys in the interrogation basement. It wasn't a big deal. You had joined the boys down there several times before to either watch them interrogate somebody, San looked incredibly sexy when he revelled in some torture here and there to get the information out of the enemy, and had even tried your own hand at some hands on interrogating before. Your hands were getting used to being covered in blood too, you realised.

You had tried your hardest to cling to denial, pretending that this situation had somehow been different. But different how? Hongjoong was an even bigger, more powerful mafioso than those little street rats who had bothered you in the past. Why would you decide to trust a man who you knew damn well must have dozens of gallons of blood on his hands, and that was not even counting all the indirect kills he must be responsible for. You knew damn well what kind of people you were living with, after all. Were you becoming one of them? Numb to the pain of others, numb to the sting of guilt in the back of your conscience? You knew very well how addicted you were to the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of power. How beautiful the world could seem when you pushed your body to its limits, executing a perfect kill. Rather than asking yourself what you were becoming, perhaps you should ask yourself what you already became. You didn't want to know.

Nobody would declare you sane if they ever found out you felt safe in their company, Hongjoong's company. People knew Hongjoong as the manic and irrational, terrifying boss of ATEEZ. They didn't back down from the toughest challenges, and pulled off tactics nobody could predict. Everyone thought Hongjoong was simply the power at the top of the organisation and that Seonghwa was the one to come up with all of these plans by himself, but you had learned that it was very much a two man job. Together, they ruled the most powerful partition of the underworld for almost a decade now. And you were living right under their roof.

But then suddenly all of that safety and respect you had for Hongjoong was gone.

It took you a while to mentally process exactly what had gone on in that basement.

Walking in on Hongjoong fucking one of their hostages down the throat harshly. You stand in the door opening, frozen in place, petrified by the monstrous exhibit before you.

Even when his neck turns you are unable to shy away and hide yourself. You knew you should be afraid, fear what this monster might do to you for finding out, for seeing forbidden things.

You felt disgusted, stomach twisting at the visions of when you had pleased him. You had been pleasing a ruthless monster. You had always had your rational suspicions that, being leaders of a widely feared gang, they had committed heinous crimes. But to you what you saw in front of you, was the worst crime of them all. You had known all too well what it was like to be the victim of such savagery.

It had felt like hours had passed as you felt Hongjoong stare into your soul, not a trace of malignancy in his eyes. His gaze was only briefly broken as sweat that was dripping from his hair which was plastered to his forehead, forced him to blink the foreign fluids from his eyes. The sole thing that presented that, in actuality, only a split second had passed, was Hongjoong's breathing. It was rapid and laboured. Two, three breaths you had counted now.

Then, a smile graced Hongjoong's lips. You couldn't tell if it ever reached his eyes as he had finally turned his gaze back to his victim. With one swift- seemingly almost too trained and effortless- motion he retracted his hips from where his hilt had still been deeply burrowed in the man's face, and snapped his neck. The eerily loud 'crack' that reverberated across the thick stone walls was revolting.

 "Now now, don't be afraid sweetheart. They had it well and truly coming." Your mind stuttered.  "They?" you had barely whispered the question, still processing Hongjoong's words. Then, as you finally unfroze enough to look around, you saw that the floor was littered with several other corpses. Two males and three females, you counted. The brick in your throat was so painful it prevented you from breathing. You desperately tried to swallow the brick- tried to swallow the whole scenario. Without realising it you had begun taking several steps backwards. You had no idea where you were going or what you were going to do, but you simply had to get out of there.

You were almost sent to the floor when your back collided with a strong chest, its arms quickly coming up to catch you.

 "Careful now," you heard the gruff voice from behind you speak, Yunho. You were not quite certain if you should be thankful for his presence or frightened. But your dazed mind had no answer, it was too busy fighting to stay conscious in the first place. A part of you believed that this was all just a bad nightmare, finally relaxing into Yunho's arms as they wrapped around your body snugly.

You don't remember much after that point. Yunho had picked you up in a bridal style and walked you out of their basement, through their mansion. This room had woken up in was probably somewhere in their home. You did not recall seeing it before, but then again their house was so enormous you doubted you could find every little room in it even after a year. Old mansions like this were also bound to have secret rooms- or basements.

Dread coiled back into your stomach as you recalled what you saw in the basement that night. It couldn't have been real. Right?

You were being kept captive in that room for a long time, as they visited you regularly. They had explained what you saw and that they could now no longer let you go. You knew too much. Most of them seemed so sad, they really did not want to harm you. They hated seeing you like this, feeling physically pained by the sight of them. Eventually your eyes didn't even seem to recognise them anymore.

You eventually forgot why they were visiting you, or who they were. It became too much for Wooyoung to continue to visit you, to see you falling apart until so little was left over. It was eventually Yeosang who convinced him to return, telling him about how his absence would only make you suffer more. And he really didn't want that. They all hoped that if they continued to keep you company, one day you would remember their names.

After that, Wooyoung made it a point to visit you every week, and eventually every day when he could. He would bring board and card games among other entertaining things to do and would do his best to cheer you up. But he could tell that you were not the person that they had known before. It was merely an empty shell that you had left behind.

Eventually you could feel his pain. You were not sure why he was always there to spend time with you or why he was so sad, but it hurt to see him like this. It tortured you to such an extent that you begun acting happier for him too, no matter how exhausting. You played along with his little games, and when the spring came he even got to take you out for some walks in the courtyard outside of your windows.

Months must have passed by then, and you knew that even when you got to go out, there was not a single way to leave. For whatever reason you were kept here, you were not going to find a way out.

In their sick, twisted ways they cared for you, and slowly you began to care for them too, living in your doll house. Especially San, Yunho, Wooyoung and Yeosang had a special place inside your heart. You also cared for Mingi, but as he was very busy you got to see him significantly less. Seonghwa mostly just came on visits to share the fancy teas that he brought from outside, along with tasty and exotic treats. Occasionally he would also gift you jewellery, insisting that you should wear it for him sometime. The thing that set him apart from the others, was how his smile seemed genuine, gentle.

He was often distant, but some part of his care towards you, touched you. You knew that he was trying to be respectful of your space, not wanting you to feel a captive of your own 'home' as they called it. Eventually you had to admit that you were even looking forward to Seonghwa's visits. You knew that his care for you was heartfelt, and he had a unique gentleness to him.

One time you fell ill, and despite Yeosang monitoring, and taking care of your health, Seonghwa had refused to leave your side for almost two entire weeks. Every day he would be called away for a couple of hours to address his most pressing duties, but you always awoke to the sight of him either sitting reading reports, or slumped over sleeping by your bedside.

You gently caressed the side of Seonghwa's cheek, admiring how soft and defenceless the grown man could look when he was asleep. A pang of regret bubbled from your insides, wishing you wouldn't worry him so. You could see how the crease lines had started to deepen in his forehead ever since you had fallen ill, and you knew how exhausted he must be.

You decided to both thank the man and reprieve him, in your own way, once you were feeling a little better. You didn't dare to be upfront with it, unfamiliar with who these men really were, but deep inside you felt like the kindness they had shown you without fail, deserved to be repaid in some way.

The closer you grew to them, the more you felt as if you had already known them before, as if from a previous lifetime. You felt deep down how much you could trust them, knowing that they would never dare let any harm befall you. You wondered if that was why they kept you in here. They all adamantly respected your space and privacy, never making any moves on you. In a way that even saddened you. You began to feel that perhaps they were the ones upholding the barriers to a more personal connection, rather than you. It seemed as if some of them were too afraid to be too close to you. The thought was gnawing at you, but perhaps it was just the confinement playing tricks on your mind. Maybe you were really nothing more than a duty to them.

The guilt was a strange feeling. The sensation first pained you whenever they visited you, in turn dejecting your visitors. Then when you overheard Yeosang whispering to Yunho about how concerned they were for your wellbeing, fearing that you were falling back into a depression as when they had first confined you, that you changed your mind. Even if you were guilty, burdening them further was only going to make matters worse for everyone.

You ought to repay them for their kindness, not make them suffer for it.

From that day, the boys began to notice a change in you. Slowly, you had begun opening yourself more to them again. Most of them had reacted with shock and disbelief when you had let your fingers gently, by so called accident, graze against theirs. It was as if they were holding their breaths, squaring themselves for the blow that your fright would bring them, but that moment never came. Instead they wondered if their eyes had betrayed them, or if you had actually blushed softly after it.

Seonghwa had been rather taken aback when you had taken the initiative in a spur of a moment, insisting on pouring the tea for him. Since he was the expert on tea, he had always been the one to serve you. It was an oddly endearing sensation to him, though he tried his best not to make any assumptions. After all, it might just have been an insignificant gesture in your mind. Shortly after though, his hopes promptly grew further.

He had been admiring how you had laughed softly "I am sorry I cannot pour the tea as properly and elegantly as you do Seonghwa" your eyes met his, and your compliment made his heart flutter. You wondered if you had caught the man off guard, if that was even possible for men like him, before Seonghwa finally smiled and replied.

 "Don't worry about that my dove, having you pouring tea for me like this already does me a great honour." Your heart fluttered unexpectedly at his new pet name for you, as you had to admit you kind of liked it.

 "Then perhaps," You hesitated, suddenly feeling shy under his heady gaze "would you teach me art of tea?"

 "I would love nothing more." Seonghwa was captivated by you, he realised, in a different way than ever before. You, neither he, were sure what he was truly talking about, the tea or you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, nothing makes me happier than to interact with you guys, so please don’t hesitate to pop anything into the comments! Lots of love <3 Reblogs are very berry welcome too~ <3

Masterlist

Next chapter (part 9)

[ina-nis]

Hmm... I guess the perceptions of feeling myself as unwanted and unlovable - while knowing with certainty they're untrue - are probably other of the many symptoms I'll likely have to deal with for the rest of my life, huh?

I can't quite pinpoint where they come from. I don't really know if it would make any difference? Oh, maybe it's the Complex PTSD, even obsessively ruminating from OCD, or AvPD's rejection sensitivity and inferiority complex. It could be all that, too.

I've been trying to get around my head how is it possible to have a good self-esteem and still feel that way (since, supposedly, your self-esteem will make things like that improve).

My reaction (after the fact) has improved, a lot.

I still get these feelings triggered. They still cause bad meltdowns. It doesn't last for days anymore, thankfully.

I'm able to get back up almost right away because I know they're untrue, because I know my worth, because I know it's not about me or not about anything I'm doing wrongly, etc... it just is.

I'm not unlovable, or unwanted, or uninteresting and I know how special and unique I am - me and each other person, too. Everyone is important simply because they exist.

Dealing with people triggers those feelings all the time.

Even though I've been trying my hardest to just not take it personally, to start seeing it more casually and not looking into things too deeply, I find it extremely difficult... if not, straight up impossible...! And I can, at least, understand why.

Complex trauma rewires the brain.

I'm sure most my disorders originated from it.

Considering it's (still) an ongoing issue, considering I've been mostly unable to tilt the scales for long enough, with good enough experiences... it just keeps on digging deeper and deeper in my skin.

So... ultimately, it doesn't really matter how much I love myself and tell myself how wonderful I am when that doesn't translates into real life experiences outside of myself.

My individual, personal experiences with myself are but that: individual and personal experiences starting on me towards me. There are environmental and social factors and influence, too, obviously, but this is something I mostly go through in the solitude of my own mind.

This is, I think, where AvPD thrives a lot...

Good luck getting out of your head once you get to that point... the alienation and disconnection will only get worse and worse as that goes one - I know it did for me, I eventually stopped caring because it was just too exhausting and dissociation-inducing to care I guess.

Ironically... here I am! My self-esteem has never been this good, I have never liked myself more (and never been happier with my life overall) and yet... I can't shake off these feelings. I can't help but feel unwanted and unlovable with every rejection, perceived or not; I can't help feeling unimportant and disposable even though I know my worth; and so on...

Even when I do understand where these feelings come from - and it's so frustrating that I do! - even when I understand that taking a more casual and not-letting-it-get-to-me approach would be the way to go, even when I understand this is natural and part of social relationships, even when I understand most connection are not what I'm looking for (so I need to keep on looking anyway!)... even when I know all these things, I can't really help my feelings.

I can't wish them away, I can't pretend it doesn't hurt and even if I try to reframe it or look on the bright side, see it as a lesson, etc, it doesn't really address the pain, it doesn't really make the hurt go away - oh goodness, do I even want to "reframe" these things? No! It sucks, it hurts, it feels awful.

The pain is made so much worse because I know how lovable I am.

The pain is made so much worse exactly because I know my worth.

But yes, most people don't really care? And that's fine. Most people don't really see all that in you either, which is also fine. I can understand that too.

Where are the people who will love me in the way I need to be loved?

Where are the ones who will actually want me? Who will choose me?

Where's that someone who will think I'm invaluable, so important they won't want to lose?

I already know I am that person for myself, that doesn't change my predicament because it doesn't address this emotional loneliness that withers me.

[rafor]

Chapter 51 - Poison - The Glitch

A gentle nibble on my arm roused me from my slumber. I groaned and muttered, “Oh, please, let me rest, I’m still tired.” But Freya was persistent. “You’ve been sleeping for a whole day, little adventurer,” she said in a teasing voice. I pulled my arm back into the hammock and buried myself under the blanket. “Please, it’s been a rough day,” I pleaded.

She softened her tone and said, “Erebus said that he wants to teach you a new element with the help of Siveth.” I sighed and said, “Please tell them that I will later.” She paused for a moment and then said, with a sincere and grateful voice, “Thank you for saving me.” I felt a pang of guilt and said, “You’re welcome. I couldn’t just let you go. I’m sorry for bringing you on this mission.” She shook her head and said, “Hey, I chose to follow you. I made it clear enough.” She sounded cheerful, but I could sense a hint of pain in her voice.

“Did they tell you what happened?” I asked. She chuckled and said, “Yeah, you’ve been beaten quite badly. Hahaha.” I frowned and said, “It’s not funny. It was terrible. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up. I think some of their poison got into my throat.” She laughed again and said, “Hahaha, hey, I’ve been bitten too, not like that, but I didn’t even get a chance to fight back.” I said, “Freya, they bit me multiple times, one of them right under my throat, with both teeth and fangs. It’s awful. You were bitten almost on your shoulder. It’s different.” She shrugged and said, “Alright, fine. Anyway, now that you’re awake, are you going to join Erebus and Siveth?” I said, “No thanks.” She pouted and said, “Not even if I ask you nicely?” I gave in and said, “Ok, fine.” I left the hammock and the tent. Outside, the rain had stopped.

She led me to a clearing in the jungle, where Erebus was waiting for us. Beside him stood the same female dragon with the massive fangs and the deadly skills. He greeted me with a smirk. “So, are you ready to resume your lessons, little prophecy kid?” I frowned. “Please don’t call me that. We’re just passing through. We can’t stay here for long.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And where are you headed?” I decided to tell him our mission: “We’re looking for Akira and Fyrenthos.” He snorted, unaware that they had returned. “Oh, they’re probably somewhere in the unknown world after years of wandering. Good luck finding them.” I corrected him. “They came back about a month ago. They were on a mission in the lands of the Hidden Shadows. You know the place, don’t you?” He looked puzzled. “What? They came back? How?” I explained briefly. “They came back with some new discoveries. Weapons, technologies. Akira and Fyrenthos are an amazing team, and they call themselves ‘SunFlares’ now.” He shook his head. “Okay, you’ll have to explain that better later, but for now, how about we get started? What do you say?” I asked him nervously. “Get started with what? Freya mentioned a new element.” He clarified. “It’s not exactly an element, but more of an ability. You can shapeshift, right?” I nodded, wondering what he was getting at. “Yes, why?” He grinned wickedly. “You might want to add something to your arsenal.” I tilted my head. “What do you mean? Sorry, I don’t get it.” He said it bluntly. “You need to grow fangs and use them to poison your enemies.” I gasped. “What? No, I’m not going to bite like a savage, no way.” Siveth, who had been listening, chimed in sarcastically. “So biting is savage for you, huh?” I defended myself. “Well, yes, I have other ways of fighting.” She retorted. “Yeah, we saw that, and how did that work out for you?” She had a point. It didn’t work out well at all, and maybe if I had bitten them with a venomous bite, I would have escaped sooner. But I wasn’t sure if they would have been affected by the poison anyway.

I gave a curt answer. “Not good.” She raised her scaly like eyebrows and said, “Good, then how about we teach you that?” I sighed and asked, “Fine, but how do I summon these fangs?” Erebus explained, “Well, I think it’s like shapeshifting, but instead of a whole new body, you just add something.” I frowned and said, “I don’t even know what those fangs look like, honestly. I only saw the damage they did.” Erebus gestured to Siveth and said, “Show him your fangs, please.” She grinned and said, “Oh sure.” She opened her mouth wide and displayed her sharp teeth. She ran her tongue over them to show how big they were. I shuddered at the sight, and the idea that I had to learn how to use them as part of my arsenal was as bizarre as everything else here. Erebus urged me, “Touch them. She won’t bite.” I shook my head and said, “No way, I’m not touching someone else’s deadly saliva-covered fangs. No thanks.” He persisted, saying, “If you want to get a better sense of them, you should.” I retorted, “I think I have a good enough sense of them. I felt them when they pierced my skin.” He coaxed me: “Come on, don’t leave her hanging. She’s doing this for you, and they’re probably dry by now.” I asked nervously, “What if she bites me?” He reassured me, “She won’t, and besides, you know it won’t kill you.” Freya was watching the whole scene and trying not to laugh out loud. I noticed her and said, “What’s so funny now?” She replied sheepishly, “Oh nothing, I’m just amused to see you so scared of this. Come on, just do it already.”

I said hesitantly, “Please, if you aren’t afraid, do it too.” She took my words as a challenge and turned to Erebus. “Can I?” she asked him. He nodded. “Go on.” She approached Siveth and said, “It’s me, just setting an example for my husband.” She touched the fangs fearlessly, exploring every inch of them as if they were specimens to be examined. Then, to show off, she ran her fingers over each tooth of that monstrous maw, and Siveth seemed to enjoy it too. I said, “Please stop. Fine, I’ll touch the fangs.” She backed away from Siveth. I said nervously, “Please don’t bite.” She hissed just to make me more anxious. Then, as I was trying to touch her fangs too, she made weird noises to intimidate me further, so I said, “Please don’t. You’re not helping.” She chuckled. The fangs felt like bones, but thinner, hollower, and lethal. While doing so, I must have touched a sensitive spot near the gums, and she started spitting venom everywhere. I jumped back in horror and shouted, “Eww, what the hell, it’s on me too.” The venom burned my scales. She closed her mouth and said apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose. Anyway, you’ve had that stuff inside you multiple times yesterday.” I replied disgustedly, “Don’t remind me. How much venom is that?” She replied casually, “Oh, I don’t know, enough to kill a dragon, but this is not even half of the amount I usually use, like when I tried to finish you off, eheh.” I replied indignantly, “Please, you sound like you enjoy saying this.” She replied teasingly, “It’s so fun seeing you like a scared prey that I could catch and kill in seconds. Even if you are actually invulnerable.”

Erebus heard that but said nothing. I turned to him for some support and asked, “Can you please say something about this?” He only echoed her words: “She’s right. You’ve got to be ready to face such an opponent and not be intimidated by it.” I cursed him inwardly for his sage advice. And if you think this was the most bizarre part, wait until you hear what happened next.

I had been trying to change the colors of my claws, just as an experiment to personalize something about myself that wasn’t a mark. After some time of scratching myself, they glowed and turned red, as I had intended. Then I reverted them to their original color. Erebus suggested, “Great, you should do the same thing for the fangs.” I objected, “I just changed the color. I didn’t add anything.” He countered, “Then add something, like spikes, for example.” That sounded like a good idea, so I attempted to add a spike to my knee, using the same technique of touching the spot where I wanted it and imagining how it would look. Two spikes shone on both of my knees and then materialized. Since I didn’t want to keep them, I removed them in the same way. I announced, “Ok, I’m ready.” Siveth replied, “Oh, I can’t wait.”.

I attempted summoning fangs until I felt a strange itch in my gums, where I longed to have teeth like Siveth’s. Her fangs seemed so useful and powerful, unlike my dull ones. I scratched the spot with my tongue, hoping to stimulate some growth. After a while, I noticed two tiny bumps emerging from the flesh. They were barely visible, but they were there. I showed them to Siveth, expecting her to be proud of me.

She looked at them and burst into laughter. “Hahaha, they look like baby teeth!” she exclaimed, pointing at my mouth. I felt embarrassed and defensive. “Hey, it’s something,” I said, trying to sound confident. As I spoke, I felt a surge of energy in my gums. They swelled and throbbed, and the bumps grew into sharp points. I opened my mouth again to check, and I saw two enormous fangs protruding from my upper jaw. They were so long that I could feel their tips with my tongue even when not exposed. Siveth stopped laughing and stared at me in awe. “Wow, now we’re talking,” she said, admiring my new fangs. “Congrats, those are some nice fangs.” I smiled awkwardly, feeling the weight of them in my mouth. “Thank you, but how do I use them? They’re just…there.” She grinned and said, “Open your mouth as wide as you can.” I obeyed, stretching my lips as far as they would go. “Like this?” I asked. She shook her head. “More, much more.” I strained, but I couldn’t open any wider. “I can’t do more than this,” I said. She looked annoyed and said, “Again, open your mouth.” I did as she told me, and she quickly grabbed my jaws with her hands. She forced them open even wider with a strength that surprised me. I felt a sharp pain in my bones, as if they were cracking under the pressure. But then something changed in my jaw structure. It became more flexible and elastic, allowing me to open my mouth even wider than before.

She pushed my jaws forward until they matched hers and said, “Ok, hold it like that.” She released her grip on me, and I managed to keep my mouth wide open, mirroring her. She nodded and said, “Ok, now wait, let me check your fangs.” She examined them with her fingers—well, claws—just like Freya had done with hers. I hated the sensation, and it made me squirm. I felt invaded. Then she touched the gums where I had accidentally poked her, and instantly poison dripped from the fangs and splashed on the ground in front of me.

I was about to close my mouth when she placed one of her hands in the gap and warned me, “Close it and you’ll bite my hand, then I’ll bite you back.” I didn’t want to risk that, so I complied with her demand. She pressed on my gums and remarked, “Look how much deadly poison you can produce.” She continued this for several seconds, then her voice turned anxious. “Wait, when does it stop? This is not normal.” But she didn’t stop either, and neither did the poison. It flowed out of my mouth for a whole minute until she forced me to shut it. The fangs retracted, and I avoided biting myself with them. On the ground, there was a pool of venom. She exclaimed, “No, this is not normal at all. What do you think, Erebus?” He replied, “I told you he was special.” She nodded. “I see that, but something like this could be used to fill an entire tank. It’s incredible.” I struggled to speak. My mouth was sore after being open for so long, and after undergoing so many changes, moving it felt very different. I asked, “What now? Are we done?” Erebus answered, “Not quite. Siveth, proceed to step two, please.” Siveth then explained, “Now you need to learn how to bite with your new fangs.” I said, “I hope not on someone.” She glanced at Freya and suggested, “If you want...” I said, “No, I don’t.” Freya teased me, "Oh, come on, bite me.” I said, “Are you kidding me?” Siveth chuckled and said, “Of course we are. We’ll start with this: a fruit.” She held up a huge fruit with a thick peel. She said, “This is not the same as biting a dragon, but it will do for a first attempt. Try biting it as you normally would. Just bite.” I didn’t really know how to bite like she instructed, but I gave it a try anyway. I opened my mouth wide and clamped it down on the fruit. Juice squirted out of it all over my hands, followed by venom. My own venom burned my skin, and I withdrew my fangs quickly. They still dripped some drops of venom that landed in my mouth, but they didn’t affect me there. Something was preventing me from feeling it. It just tasted salty. She said, “Good job. Let me see that.” She took the fruit from my hand, careful not to touch the venom. Then she said, “That’s a good bite mark, and I think your fangs are as big as mine. We should measure them later.”

Erebus spoke up. “Do you want to take a break before step three, or do we move on?” Everyone waited for my reply, so I said “Let’s do it once and for all.”. I regretted my decision later, as step three was not as pleasant as step two. It was a mock duel to see who could bite first, between me and Siveth.

She explained the rules. “So, let’s say I’m your opponent, trying to bite you, and after that, you lose. Whoever bites first wins, and that’s it. Be quick and try to avoid my attacks.” I hesitated. “Ehm, are you sure about this? What if I bite you first? I don’t like to poison someone.” She shrugged. “I saw you heal your queen. You can do the same for me.” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t take that as a guarantee if I were you.” She grinned. “Then I’ll do my best to bite you first.” I gulped, afraid. I knew how it felt.

Erebus said, “So, Freya, do you want to kick off?” She nodded. “With pleasure,” then added, “Ready?” I protested. “Wait, I’m not in position.” I was still inches away from Siveth. But she ignored me. “Oh, well, good luck. The match starts now!”

I took the opportunity when she said that to run away and gain distance from my opponent. The ground wasn’t like an arena. It was slippery, and every step was hard for me. Siveth was fast and menacingly quick. She was already on me, trying to bite me with her jaws wide open. I dodged her in the first five seconds and then tried to bite her from behind, but she hit me with her tail and sent me flying. Now that she was again trying to catch me, this time without her jaws wide open, she had other plans. I tried keeping my distance, but the space wasn’t really enough, and with her tail, she grabbed me from one of my backlegs and made me fall to the ground, then lifted me up in the air. She said, “I got you, ahaha.”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I reached for her tail using my wings, and I bit it. She let go of the grip and shouted, “Agh, well, that doesn’t count as a bite.” The poison, anyway, was quickly doing its effect on her tail, and all around where I bit her was turning dark. I replied, “Damnit, I bit you, but you still fight.” She said, “I won’t stop at your first bite, newbie.”

I didn’t reply, and this time I was attacking first while she was making fun of me. I tried to aim for her neck, and as she tried to bite me while I was staring at her, I turned into a shadow. Immediately, Freya shouted, “No, that’s against the rules. Don’t use your elements.”

I got back to my form and said, “Oh, come on, but that’s what I’m good at.” Erebus replied, “She’s right. You should avoid using your elements now to improve.”

I didn’t reply, but Siveth did. “You’re a fast little dragon.”

I replied, “And you are much stronger and bigger than me. How can we put it?”

She chuckled and then said, “We’ll talk bit by bit."

I felt myself getting too immersed in the thrill of the duel. I launched another attack, darting behind her, but she whipped her tail at me, trying to ensnare me. It was wounded and weak, however, and I easily slipped out of its grasp. She spun around in a flash and snapped her jaws at me, but missed. She was as swift as a viper. She repeated this maneuver while I retreated, dodging her strikes, until I found myself backed into a corner. Then I used the one advantage that she lacked. She had no proper wings to fly. I soared into the air and took a new position. She snarled, “Stop running away and face me!” I retorted, “With pleasure,” and swooped down towards her. She reached for me with her tail again, but failed. I smacked her with one wing as a diversion. She bit into my wing, but I had already aimed for her neck. I clamped down hard with my fangs, injecting my venom into her flesh. She let out a horrible hiss as she tried to shake me off, but it was too late. I released her and flew away, then said, “Done. It’s your call now, Siveth.” She tried to say something but couldn’t. Then she staggered and collapsed on the ground. I felt a pang of pain in my wing too, but the venom was not enough to harm me. She lay unconscious, and Freya said, “Step 3 completed successfully?” Erebus replied, “Yeah, but you should heal her if you can. She did all this to help you.” I said, “Fine, I was going to do that anyway.” I approached the serpentine dragon and examined the wound on her neck, blackened by the poison. Her breathing was faint. I placed my hand on the injury and healed her. She didn’t wake up right away, and after a few minutes of waiting, I asked, “Sorry, what do we do now? Do we take her back or something?” Erebus said, “Yeah, take her back, please,” then headed back to the village. I called after him, “A little help, maybe? She’s huge. I can’t carry her by myself.” He didn’t answer, but Freya came to my aid and said, “Come on, let’s take her back together.” I thanked her and added, “Little judge of the duels.” She smiled at that and chuckled. We lifted the massive dragon by her stubby wings and dragged her back to the village. She was very heavy, and when we finally laid her down in a tent on the ground because we couldn’t reach one of the hammocks, we were exhausted. I was so tired that I didn’t have the energy to scold Erebus for his lack of help.

Freya and I exchanged a glance. “Back to the hammock?” I suggested. She nodded and smiled. “There’s one for two, you know?” she said, taking my hand. “Oh, really, where?” I asked, curious. She led me to another tent, marked with the same symbols as the previous one. Inside, there was a huge hammock, big enough for both of us. We climbed into it and snuggled under the cozy blankets. I felt my eyelids drooping and soon drifted into sleep. Freya did the same.

We were unaware of the world outside until we heard Siveth’s heavy footsteps approaching. She must have been tired too, because she didn’t bother to check who was in the hammock before jumping in and landing on top of us. We woke up with a start and groaned. “Aaah, get off us, please!” we protested. She looked down at us and blinked. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were there.” She didn’t move, though. She just shifted us to the sides and squashed us against the hammock’s edges. Then she added, “Nox, or Raphael, whatever you prefer to be called, you did great!” She sounded exhausted and closed her eyes. For some reason, we were too tired to argue or escape. We just accepted our fate and fell asleep again. We ended up sleeping on another dragon.

[floopers]

Snake in the Light

Series: Octopath Traveler II Pairing: Throné/Castti Word count: 8028 Rating: T Summary: What did she know of warmth? Snakes were cold-blooded; they sought for warmth that they did not have. Throné would slither on the ground in the shadows for the rest of her life, seeking what she could not have.

[AO3]

thought a little more about castti's story a bit and thought of the idea of throné and castti meeting pre-canon and decided to run with it

SOME SPOILERS for Throné's story and also references to certain things you only learn at the end of the game

"The target is still alive."

Throné slowly turned to Father. Though her expression betrayed nothing, even she couldn't hide the disbelief in her voice. "What? How? We saw him drink the poison." She had seen Donnie slipping it in into the target's cup while she distracted them. A strange immunity, then?

Father rubbed his chin. "We got unlucky. An apothecary saved him in the nick of time."

Throné frowned. The poison they used was lethal within a day as to be untraceable, and once it acted, it moved fast. Minutes were all an apothecary had if they were trying to save someone, if they knew exactly what it was in the first place. There should have been no chance for saving... and yet.

"Eir's Apothecaries... they're making quite the name for themselves. If people like them are running around, we'll have to lay low for a while. Or..." He smiled as he flipped a knife in the air, catching it with his hand as easily as though he tossed a pen instead, "we'll have to teach them a lesson."

"No," Throné said immediately. "It'll be too obvious," she added when Father looked at her.

"... you're right. I guess we'll have to go back to good old knives for now. Can't fix a heart with a hole, right?" Father laughed as if he made a joke. Throné remained silent. Better for him to think that. "Still, you've failed your mission. Mother will be displeased," he finished, and left her with that warning. Throné watched him go and took a deep breath afterward. Pirro had offered her and Donnie some expensive wine he managed to get his hands on tonight, but it looked like she needed to postpone her plans.

And hours later, she staggered through the dark alleys, the lashings still fresh on her skin. She'd been extra rough tonight, not that it mattered to Throné. Mother had ordered the other Snakes to keep her from returning to her room so she couldn't lick her wounds in peace as more punishment. Her back ached and throbbed, more uncomfortable than painful at this point. She knew she could hide at Pirro's but if anyone found out, he'd be punished too. The last thing she wanted was to owe anyone a favor, even Pirro... and Donnie would be hiding there already too anyway, for his part in being her partner. And Scaracci... he was always too nervous to keep his mouth shut.

Up on the roof, then. There, she would find peace. She... just had to get to it first. Throné moved through the alley before stopping to lean against the wall, grimacing slightly. How many days would it take to heal... she hoped Father did not give her any missions tomorrow.

"Miss? Are you okay?" A voice called out before she heard the sound of footsteps running down the alley. Throné froze up. The people here were used to the Snakes—they knew better than to willing approach her, not with the snake on her hand.

"Oh! You're hurt."

Throné looked over her shoulder to see who'd spoken. A woman she had never seen in the city before loomed over her—the concern in her eyes made Throné snap her own away. Being kind like that here only got people got killed. She hoped this woman was only visiting.

"Miss?" The woman crouched to her, blue sneaking into Throné's vision—

Blue. Throné glanced back.

The cloak the woman wore was blue, as blue as the sky itself.

Eir's Apothecaries.

... just her luck.

"... I'm fine, don't worry about me," Throné said, waving away the woman's hand. Mother's whip barely hurt but she needed to remember it left marks. The people who lived here were used to seeing them and knew to keep their distance from the Blacksnakes. This woman... she was new, and the reason Throné had these lashings in the first place. She didn't blame them—as Father said, they were simply unlucky. An assassin's job was to kill, and a healer's job was to heal. That was it.

"No, you should get that looked at." The apothecary reached into her satchel and pulled free several herbs. She set down her mortar and pestle and began to grind. Throné watched her for a moment, surprised that she had simply begun to mix her concoction without waiting for any word from Throné. This was the perfect chance for her to slip away though—

"Wait," the apothecary commanded.

Throné waited.

She watched as the apothecary crushed and grinded the herbs. It all looked the same to her but when she pulled certain ones out, the smell was pungent, made Throné wrinkle her nose. But underneath... she could smell it, the lingering stench of blood that no one could ever seem to erase no matter what. It followed this woman too.

But she was not the same as Throné.

"There we go." The apothecary stood up and gestured for Throné to turn around. "It might sting a bit with your wounds but it'll speed up the healing process and help keep it from getting infected."

Throné only looked at her, unable to fathom why this apothecary was going so far for a complete stranger who hadn't even asked for her help. She had only seen Throné staggering through the alley and come running over.

"Please, turn around. I only want to help you," the apothecary said, her voice soothing enough to almost convince Throné. But that meant she had to turn her back, show her back to this complete stranger who had every opportunity to put a knife into her instead. Perhaps this was an act; a good act, if Throné had ever seen one.

"No tricks, I promise," the apothecary spoke again, opening her palms even. "Would you like me to test it on myself first? I can do that as well." She rolled up one of her sleeves and there was a bandage on her arm. Before Throné could even speak, she had already taken out a small pair of shears and cut through it. "Had a run in with some of the ratkin outside before arriving," she explained plainly as if she were speaking about what she had eaten for lunch, but all Throné could do was stare, because what even was this woman doing? Underneath the bandage revealed red skin, the wound closed but still healing, also smelling strongly similar to what the woman had just made as well. She took some of the poultice and slathered it on carefully and then smiled up at Throné.

What was Throné to even make of this situation? Never had she had an apothecary demonstrate this in front of her. How could she even be sure the apothecary wasn't immune to whatever she had applied? But the fact that she was willing to go so far to show Throné that whatever she had made wasn't dangerous... Throné didn't know if she was brave or foolish. Both, most likely.

"Looks okay, I've made the right proportions," the apothecary muttered, examining her arm. She began to redress her wound as Throné tried to wrap her mind around the sheer bravado of this woman.

"Thank you for waiting, I needed to change the bandages today so that felt like a good opportunity as any." She smiled, as if she hadn't just done something outrageous and gestured for Throné to turn around. "Now, your turn please." And though Throné still felt that anxious put of showing her back to a stranger... she turned around.

The apothecary made a sound. Whatever it meant, Throné did not know. She was holding her breath, waiting, to see if she would live through this encounter, if she had fallen into some sort of trap. But instead of a knife she was still expected, she felt a hand. The apothecary's fingers were rough and callused, blunt nails scraping lightly against her skin as she slathered the balm, refreshing cool on her sore skin. Her lashings were still fresh though so Throné still winced.

And even so, it was the gentlest touch Throné had ever known. It came close to that same feeling... of when Father would pat her head when she was younger, when she was only as tall as his legs then... of the time before she'd been forced to kill.

She hadn't realized that she had no longer felt this... and that she even missed it in the first place.

"There!" The apothecary stepped back, and Throné realized a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Whatever she had put on though, the throbbing and ache seemed to have subsided for now. Throné rolled her shoulders, humming under her breath when she felt nothing.

"How is it?" the apothecary asked, and Throné looked away from that knowing look in her eyes.

"... all right," she answered.

"Not one for conversation, are you?" The apothecary smiled at her. "That's fine." She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small container. With a wooden spoon, she scooped the remaining poultice into it, twisting a cap onto it before handing the concoction over to Throné. "The most dangerous thing is inflammation and infection, you'll want to keep putting it on until your wounds feel better. You can have the rest."

Throné stared at it and then slowly back up at the woman. Apothecaries were just like any other jobs in the world, right? She would need to pay for this service. Throné didn't feel like she wanted to owe a favor to anyone, in any case. Perhaps this was why this apothecary ran to her, to render her aid onto Throné and extort payment from her. She reached into a pocket, grabbing her leaves—

"No, no, you don't need to worry about that." The apothecary reached out, taking her hand and putting the container inside, even curling Throné's fingers around it too. "Just think about getting better, all right?" She seemed to think to herself first before continuing. "I'm not sure how long I'll be in the area but if you run out, you can come to the inn." She smiled with a gentleness Throné had never seen on anyone here, her eyes crinkling slightly. "Just ask for Castti, and I'll be sure to remember you."

Throné watched her leave. She looked down at her hand, opening her hand to look at the container in her hand now. With a shake of her head, she staggered off, her back no longer aching.

Of course, her meeting reached Mother's ears. She always knew, somehow. She pulled Throné to the parlor again, forcing her to her knees in front of all the Blacksnakes. "A little snake hissed to me that you've received healing for your wounds. Were my lashings too rough for you, finally?"

Throné didn't answer, eyes trained on the floor. She had never risen to Mother's provocation and she wouldn't do so now.

"And not just any healing, but from the very same group that made you fail your mission!" The whip caught Throné across her back, over the same area she'd been struck.

Later, when she laid in bed, she held up the container she'd been given. When she opened it, a thick and pungent smell assaulted her nose. Reminded her exactly of apothecaries, really, the smell of herbs and healthy things. Smells that were markedly different than the filth of New Delsta.

"Just ask for Castti and I'll be sure to remember you."

"Castti, huh." Throné tested the name on her lips and laid her head back on the pillow. She had to lay on her front tonight. Her hand held onto the container tight, and she slept through the night.

———

"The hell's your problem, lady? I'll cut you up if you keep pushing me!"

Throné watched atop a roof, overlooking the lower levels. There was that apothecary—Castti—flagging down one of the Snakes, who now held his knife out toward her. Throné's fingers twitched. That particular Snake, he had a problem with his temper. Even Throné didn't like dealing with him for an extended amount of time.

Castti was entirely unfazed at his threats though, a wry smile on her lips even now. "Just allow me to patch you up before you do so, then. Your arm looks ready to fall apart!"

He gaped at her, more than taken aback. "What the hell's wrong with you? You've got a death wish?" He kept his knife held out toward her. Castti raised her hand—and he pointed it at her. "Get away from me!"

Without any fear, she slowly pushed his arm down and patted his hand as if she were merely soothing a child. "Just something for your arm. It'd be a shame if that got infected and you had to amputate it, right?"

He stilled, and Castti took that opportunity to apply the balm she already held in her other hand to him. It was different from the one she had made for Throné, a much different color. When she finished and let him go, he pulled his arm back as if he'd been burned instead.

"You should refrain from using that arm for a bit," she told him. "Feeling better though?"

He said nothing, only looked down at his arm and back up at Castti. He scowled at her but put his knife away.

"Thanks," he said and walked away without another word. Castti watched him leave, a smile on her lips somehow despite how rude he'd been.

What a strange apothecary, Throné thought. Apothecary, or person? She didn't know. There were apothecaries in New Delsta but most of them refused to treat them once they saw their tattoos, refusing to be involved. Some of the Snakes had learned on their own to treat each other with crude and rudimentary means, and that was it.

This apothecary... she made no distinction. If someone were in pain, she would run to them. Even when she saw the tattoo, she never wavered. Perhaps it was because she didn't live here, didn't know the true significance of that symbol. Maybe, if she learned, she would think otherwise. That other apothecary she traveled with, that white haired man, even he looked skittish when he saw their tattoos. Unlike her, he felt more like he would crumple to the ground if pushed. He treated them still but he did not have the unyielding strength that Castti did.

It took a certain amount of willpower to remain unflinching like that. Throné wondered how long Castti could keep at it.

Castti looked up then and Throné quickly slipped back into the shadows, off to her next mission.

———

The shops at New Delsta had gotten new wares in. Throné looked through the window, eyeing the accessories and clothes laid out. She looked around at the nobles and merchants around her, seeing who would be an appropriate target—

"Hello!"

Throné recognized that voice. She debated taking off into an alleyway to disappear... and turned around instead.

"Ah hah! I was right, it is you!" Castti gave her a smile, like she wanted to see Throné. She looked pleased, for what reason, Throné did not know. "How's your back?"

"... fine," she replied. "You're... still here."

"Yes." Castti seemed embarrassed. "I didn't mean to extend my stay here but a lot more people require the services of an apothecary more than I've realized. I can't simply walk away when they need my help."

"... hm." She was exactly the sort of person Throné thought she'd be. Always ready to run into danger, if it meant she could help someone. When was the last time she had found someone like that in New Delsta? Did people like that exist? Doing that here in this city was the surest and quickest way to being wrung out and left for dead, with no one to mourn for them.

Castti looked at her then, curious. "You've never told me your name—"

A cry from nearby interrupted her. Castti immediately spun in the direction of the noise, feet already carrying her off. Throné remained there, listening. It had sounded like a child but even children could be part of the Snakes... she cautiously followed, keeping her distance to survey the scene.

An elderly woman had collapsed in the middle of the street, next to a little girl crying out. She watched as Castti pushed through the crowd, crouching down to them. The woman had strange blisters on her arms and a flush to her that made her moan with agony, and a smear of blood across her head from where she'd fallen.

"Oh dear, she's got a fever," Castti said. She looked around the crowd. "Can someone help me carry her?" she called out to the crowd gawking at them. No one offered to move, some of them grimacing at the marks on the woman's skin. Castti looked through the crowd again... and then her eyes landed on Throné.

This should have been Throné's opportunity to disappear. She should have slipped away, left her there to learn how cruel New Delsta was, left her there to...

Instead, with a heavy sigh at first, she stepped forward, moving through the crowd. She noticed others looking at her tattoo but she thought nothing of it, reaching down to grab the woman's legs as Castti took the woman's arms. Castti smiled gratefully at her and Throné quickly looked away. People like Castti didn't smile at Throné like that—they shouldn't.

"Well? Where to?" Throné asked, looking at the little girl who suddenly seemed unsure. When she met Throné's eyes, she yelped and froze.

"Where to, my dear?" Castti asked, her voice gentler, and the little girl seemed to jump. She looked at Castti and Throné could see the immediate change, the way she relaxed and began to lead them down the street.

Later, Throné waited at the doorway to the room she had helped carry the elderly woman to. The girl and Castti were inside, at her bedside. She didn't miss the way the girl kept glancing nervously at her though, constantly going to her hand where her snake was.

"Your grandma is just sleeping now and she'll be okay. I'll stay here to help watch over her for a bit, okay? Don't worry, I won't let anything else happen to her!" Castti spoke gently, and she watched as the little girl held onto them, taking comfort. It was the way Castti spoke, that reassurance, that kindness, that warmth that made the little girl believe in her words... and maybe even Throné might have felt that twinge inside of her too.

Throné left them.

———

The sky was threatening to pour when they found it. Throné leaned to peer at the strange creature before gasping, falling to her knees now as she reached out.

"It's hurt," she said, cradling the bird in her hands. Its wing was bent strangely and it chirped so pathetically that even Throné felt something tug inside of her. She wanted to fix it. How could she do that?

"I think the wing's broken," Pirro said, leaning down next to her.

"Just leave it there, it's as good as done!" Scaracci scowled at them. "We've got worse things to worry about than a bird! We gotta steal something or else we're not getting dinner tonight! Donnie's already waiting for us at the theater!"

Throné glared at him and he yelped, backing away from her. "G-Geez, Throné! Just reminding you about tonight!"

"Mother keeps the bandages in her room though..." Pirro said, nervous.

"I'll go steal it then," Throné said, immediately heading over to the parlor. She was never afraid of Mother, not when it seemed like she was always out to punish Throné for every transgression she could think of.

"W-wait, if we're caught we'll be whipped!" Scaracci ran to block her path but she pushed past him.

"... you don't have to follow me," she said, and continued without waiting for his answer. She heard him yelling at her but she ignored it. She had something more important to do. If she didn't hurry, the bird wouldn't be able to get better.

Thankfully, Mother wasn't in her office when Throné sneaked in. She picked the locks and pulled the roll of bandages free. It would be obvious if she took the whole thing though. She ripped a small part of it carefully and put it back.

She went back to the bird and with Pirro's help, managed to somehow wrap its wing. The bleeding stopped, it looked like. If only she could take it back to her quarters, but there was no hope in hiding something like this when there were four other girls in the room, all of them eager to rise through the ranks of the Blacksnakes and also keenly aware of the favoritism Father had for her. She didn't care about any of it, but she couldn't trust them.

Scaracci and Donnie managed to steal something for the both of them in that time and they returned to the parlor with their spoils. But somehow, Mother knew about her sneaking into the closet and gave her a whipping for the night. How, Throné would never know, nor did she care. If she was caught... then she was being sloppy. Maybe in her hurry to treat the bird, she left clues and tracks. She needed to be more careful next time.

Next time... Throné went back to the bird still. It looked stronger, and she fed it berries she had stolen from the fruit stands. Soon, it was strong enough to stand on its feet, move its good wing though unable to fly. She would take care of it, until the bird got better, until the bird was strong enough to fly away, until the bird would soar through the sky... and leave Throné back on the ground.

When she came back to the bird at the end of the week though, the bird was dead. Why, she couldn't figure out. She wasn't a healer. As she looked at it, she felt nothing—death would come for them all, and birds were no exception. She sat there for a while, looking up at the sky. What else did she expect would happen, though?

The only thing her hands were good for was killing.

Throné woke.

———

"... you're still here."

Throné came upon her sitting on a bench near the theater. Castti looked up, and when she recognized Throné, her face broke into a smile.

"Thank you for your help the other day," she said, scooting over to make space for Throné. She looked at Throné so expectantly so Throné felt compelled to sit. She stared at it first though, debating... but allowed herself to sit.

"... I didn't do much. Just helped you carry the body."

"And that's exactly the help I needed in that moment," she said just as easily. "No one else stepped in so I'm glad you did."

"... hm."

"You don't need to do much to make a difference," Castti said, smiling at Throné. "Just reaching out your hand can be enough."

Throné said nothing in return. Just reaching out a hand... sounded too optimistic for her. People here always expected something in return. There was only take, take, and take. It was the only way Throné knew how to live... and she suspected the way she would die too, used up to the very last drop of blood in her body.

"You won't be seeing much of me for a while though," Castti began to say, "my colleague hasn't come back since foraging at the mountains nearby so I'll have to go check up on him to make sure he hasn't gotten his head stuck in the clouds."

Oh. Right. That scrawny white-haired man that was also part of Eir's Apothecaries. Throné hadn't seen him for a while and forgot he was also... there. The demeanor between him and Castti were far too great.

"Then, we'll head back home to our village. Ah..." Castti's smile turned apologetic, clearly reminiscing. "We're a little overdue for when we said we'd be back, I hope Malaya won't be too upset with us this time." Despite her worry, there was a fondness in her voice when she spoke. Was it for home? Was it for the person she mentioned?

Throné wondered how that felt. New Delsta was always filthy and suffocating to her. It was home, the only place she had ever known... but it never felt like a home. What even was... home?

"Leaving, huh." Throné hadn't realized she had spoken aloud until she heard a giggle from Castti.

"My apologies, I didn't know you enjoyed my company that much," she said, a teasing smile on her face now. Throné frowned; had she... been? She couldn't tell.

"With our kind of work though, it's imperative that we travel," Castti began to explain. Maybe she had taken Throné's expression the wrong way. "People cry out for help... and some don't realize they are, or they're unable to. Those people deserve help too."

"... how noble," Throné could only say.

"You think so? Helping people just feels like the right thing to do, doesn't it?"

Throné said nothing again. What could she say? In the face of someone so... bright like Castti, everything Throné felt was... she didn't know. She had never met anyone like Castti before. Was this how apothecaries were like?

Or was it... just Castti? Castti, who had the freedom to think this way? Castti, who had the freedom to do as she pleased? Castti, who had the freedom... to live how she wanted?

She rose to her feet and looked down at Castti, who seemed to know this would be their final conversation.

"... safe travels," Throné said, and left.

Days would pass and just as she said, she wouldn't see Castti around the city. Her missions kept her busy in the meanwhile.

There was never anything for her to look forward to in her days. Blood, death, decay—it was the only thing Throné ever knew, and it would be the only thing she would know. The Blacksnakes would grind her down until she was nothing but bones; what other future was there for her? There was no escape she could see, not with this collar still on her. And the only way to get rid of the collar...

Throné took out her knife, stared at the blade, and wondered if a future could even be possible for her.

———

There was only a second of warning before she whipped around, her knife parrying Father's own strike. He met her frown with a satisfied smile, backing away though he still held his dagger in front of him.

"Good, Throné, still sharp," he said. "I was getting worried."

"... about?" She eyed him warily, wondering if he would strike again at her.

He only chuckled instead of answering, but he put his knife away. Though she still felt wary, Throné sheathed her dagger as well.

"Throné... allow me to ask you something. What do you think is something that can't be stolen?"

"... what?" Even Throné couldn't help but stare at him incredulously. Was this one of his antics again? She never understood when he talked like this. She didn't answer him, never in the mood to humor him when he was being like this.

Father only smiled, never explaining. "You've got a mission, only just for you."

"What is it?"

Throné felt in her gut rather than saw, ducking to avoid Father's swipe at her head. Her dagger was already in her hands, but he had already backed away, a knife pointed straight at her. Throné's heart pounded as she stared at him, waiting, coiled like a snake.

"You remember Eir's Apothecaries, don't you? Your mission then..." he smiled with all of his teeth, "is to kill the woman."

Throné kept her face impressively still but her grip on her dagger turned white. "Why?"

"Let's just say she was somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, and made some powerful enemies," he said. An understatement. Powerful enough to have Father order for her assassination, for whatever reason.

"Leave her colleague though. Your orders are only for her." His gaze seemed heavier than usual, and it also felt as if he knew something she didn't. Why he looked at her like that though, she didn't know. "So you'll do it, won't you, Throné?"

Throné still met his gaze without hesitation. "Of course."

———

No one on the roof when Throné stepped off the ladder. The way was clear, as she'd been told. She slipped into the building, old and abandoned already. There would be no one else here. A perfect spot for cleaning.

"We'll make it easy for you. Someone like that sticks her nose into everyone's business," Father had said, chuckling darkly. "It'll be easy to lure her somewhere, tell her that there's someone in pain and needs her help, and she'll come running like a lamb to the slaughter!"

Throné didn't care—as long as she was given her orders, she would carry them out. At least this way would make disposal easier.

Third floor, fourth room to the right... her steps were silent as she crept to the room. She waited, listening. She heard heavy boots thudding around inside and knew.

The door was locked and Throné easily picked it. She stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind her. When it did, Castti turned around.

"You..." Castti's brow was furrowed but there was no confusion. "You're here to kill me, aren't you?"

"... what makes you say that?"

"In the mountains, there was a village and... a man... with Trousseau, he..." Castti trailed off, looking at her as if still searching for answers but Throné only stared back, expression blank. A village? She didn't know anything about that.

But she didn't miss the way Castti flicked her eyes down to her tattoo. Ah, so now she knew. Throné pulled her knife from its holster on her leg. Castti held up her hands, backing away from her.

"Must we do this?" she asked, her voice soft yet still firm. She wasn't pleading or begging like most people did when Throné pointed her dagger at them. She met Throné's gaze and there was no fear in her. Even now, she was still unwavering. She would have made for a perfect assassin, Throné thought, and quickly banished the thought from her mind.

"Don't take it personal," Throné only said, and lunged.

Castti threw herself to the floor and dove at her instead. Before Throné could kick out, she felt her knees being grabbed and she fell to the floor now as Castti pulled on them. She was flat on her back and Castti had grabbed her wrist before she could use her knife. In her other hand was a canister with a strange colored liquid—Throné was not keen on finding out exactly what was inside.

They struggled for a bit, Throné finding Castti much stronger than she thought. Soon though, Throné managed to find an opening and flipped them over, and Castti gasped as her head hit the floor. She still held tight onto Throné's arm though, but now the knife was inching closer and closer, her strength no match against both Throné and the pull of gravity.

Closer, closer, and closer, the knife's edge crept, the tip of it touching the palm column of her skin. A single prick of blood dripped out, flowing down the side of her neck—

Throné froze. She watched that drop slip down and stain the skin, watched... and watched...

Castti shoved and kicked her away. The knife flew out of her hands and Throné was now the one on the floor, curling up on herself from the kick. She had barely felt it but her body was reacting on instinct. Her knife was just barely out of arm's reach but before she could grab it back, Castti swiped it off the floor. Now, she was the one who stood over Throné, staring down at her with a knife in her hands. The moonlight from the window behind them seemed shine on the metal of her dagger, setting it aglow.

So a healer would judge her. That… didn't sound so bad. Fitting, almost. Throné closed her eyes and waited to take her final breath.

She waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing came... except for a quiet thud.

Throné opened her eyes. Castti had sat down next to her instead, placing the knife back on the floor. If Throné wanted, she could easily move and kill within the same second.

"You're still here," she only said.

"I am," Castti replied. Though she put on a brave front, she sounded slightly shaken. Not many people went through assassination attempts, Throné could guess. Went through one and lived though Throné's attempt was terribly shoddy. Her friends would have said she never even tried. Maybe she hadn't. She should have come in through the open window, surprised her with a slit to her throat and she would have been none the wiser. And yet...

"You should kill me. I could kill you right now without you realizing," Throné said.

"And yet, you haven't," Castti answered back. "Why did you stop?"

Throné wondered. Why had her hands shaken? She had killed healers before; some were drunk on the power they had over others... and others were also simply good people in the wrong place and wrong time. Her knife made no distinction.

"Killing you wouldn't have been a cleaning job," she breathed out. Her hands were already so dipped and stained with blood... to add one more body was merely a drop to everyone she had killed. And yet...

She saw Castti reaching out. Her hand touched Throné's shoulder and that touch, as light as it was, let her feel the full weight of Castti's compassion and kindness. It sapped all of the strength out of Throné, and she laid there now, staring at the blade of her knife.

Tired. She was... tired. She was tired. Tired of it all. Just... tired. Nothing else mattered to Throné in this moment than to lay there. If Castti decided otherwise to end her life, Throné wouldn't even have resisted. Her gaze remained fixed ahead of her, looking at nothing... feeling nothing.

Since she had failed her mission, there was nothing but punishment waiting for her if they did not decide death would be her punishment. She had thought she would cling to life, cling to it like a shadow that would never come to light, cling to it like how the smell of blood would always cling to her lungs. To be able to experience such warmth when she never had in her life—how could she live after? How had she lived?

What did she know of warmth? Snakes were cold-blooded; they sought for warmth that they did not have. She would slither on the ground in the shadows for the rest of her life, seeking what she could not have.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" Castti asked.

"... you're asking me?" Throné laughed though it was a humorless sound. "I almost put a knife through your neck and you're asking me if I'm fine?" She laughed again but her laughter trailed off into a whisper. "You... you should've been running away already. Get away from here. If you start now, they won't be able to catch up to you. Past the Brightlands, they won't be willing to chase after you. Don't ever come back to New Delsta."

"What will happen to you, then?" Castti asked, her voice soft. It made Throné feel sick, hearing that kindness even after everything she had done.

"... who knows if I'll be alive after tonight."

Another silence followed until Castti asked. "Then, why not try to run away?"

"We don't forgive and forget traitors who run away. And the collar I wear… if we try to force it off, it will poison and kill us."

Castti looked over at her collar now, as if seeing it for the first time. "In what way? Through fumes? Acid?"

"... I don't know, but I've seen what happens to the body when someone tries." Throné swallowed, "I couldn't recognize who it was until they told me."

Another silence stretched between them until Castti spoke again. "May I... examine it?"

Throné took a breath and slowly nodded. Castti reached out, gingerly touching the collar. Throné tensed, her insides coiled tight. All Castti had to do was take her knife and cut it open and the collar would break and her life would be forfeit. The thought of Castti being the one to break her collar though... perhaps, from someone like Castti, it would be considered an act of mercy.

"If only I could extract the poison, I could figure out an antidote," Castti murmured. Her hand fell away, and Throné could finally breathe easy.

"I couldn't tell you anything about that either. All I know is that it comes from the western continent."

"I'll make a note of that then. When I'm able, I'll venture out with my group to the western continent, see if I can find out more about it. And then—"

"No need for that," Throné interrupted, "since I won't know if I'll live to see the dawn."

Death—it wasn't something she feared. It was always an inevitable; it only came faster and messily for them as a Blacksnake. Still, she thought she could stave it off for as long as possible. Even when it felt like all she could see was darkness in her future... she still wanted to...

She had thought she wanted to live a long life but that would remain what it would always be: an afterthought.

"Just... just leave," Throné breathed out. "Someone like you... someone like you shouldn't even bother with me. All my hands have ever done are kill but yours... yours are for healing. You should go back out there to do good."

"And you are someone who needs help, too!" Castti said, her voice unexpectedly fierce. Throné blinked and finally looked over at her. She looked angry—for what? At her? At herself?

"Why? Even though I almost killed you, you think I'm still worth helping?"

Castti met her eyes, undaunted. "I did not become an apothecary to be a judge. I became an apothecary to extend a helping hand to those in need."

Throné tore her gaze away. She couldn't look at her anymore. It… it hurt, being looked at like that. What had Throné done to deserve that kindness? All the blood on her hands—none of it could ever be washed away no matter how hard she scrubbed. Even if she stopped and put her knife away, it didn't erase all the lives she had taken. Her life in the shadows... it was all she knew. Why, then... did Castti still look at her with so much kindness?

"Just as everyone's hands can kill, they also have the power to heal. Life and death are merely two sides of the same coin, if you think about it." Throné heard Castti rustling through her satchel and she pulled out a container. It looked the same as she had given Throné the first time they had met. She placed it down next to Throné. "For your wounds, and... if there's a chance we can meet again, Eir's Apothecaries are always open. We're always in need of more hands."

"... you would still take someone like me?" The thought was absurd to Throné. She couldn't fathom it. Why? Who could look at her and think her hands could heal?

"The line between life and death is so thin and... we both understand that more than anyone. If you are willing to learn, then I could think of no better person to be an apothecary," Castti answered, speaking so assuredly that… even Throné could believe in her words. "And perhaps, then, you'll be able to give me your name."

Castti reached out, placing a light touch on her arm, before she stood. She left the room, and Throné listened as she left, listened to her footsteps echoing down the hallway, listened for a long time even when the footsteps had long faded away.

Throné laid there for what felt like an eternity. The collar on her neck... it felt even tighter now, as if it was pulling itself through her skin until it would one day sink through her and rest on her very bones and tear through them. The light touch Castti had placed on her—it still felt warm, so warm. They would most likely never see each other again, and yet... for some reason, Throné wanted to cling to that hope.

Just as she was about to finally pull herself up, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

She recognized those anywhere. If he wanted someone to hear him, he would allow himself to be heard and so, Throné knew exactly who it was.

Father stepped into the room. Her back was to him. If he were to plant a knife in her right now, it would be the best time for it. Instead, he walked around her and sat down in front of her, just as Castti did.

"Throné... those apothecaries left town. I thought you had your orders?" His voice betrayed no emotion from him.

Throné didn't answer him. What else could she say? She had failed her mission and that was it. No excuses, only results mattered.

"What's my punishment?" she asked him instead. "Death?"

And Father laughed. "Throné... oh, Throné, Throné, Throné..." His chuckle faded away and he watched her for several long minutes, silent. It felt as if he was studying her, for what, she didn't know. Perhaps looking at her one last time before punishment. "You've tasted it, haven't you? Ah, what a fool you are... just like me."

Then he sighed and sat down. In that moment, he looked just as tired as she felt, a quiet resignation and an unknown sorrow as he looked at her. No, there was a faraway look in his eyes now, as if he was looking at someone else instead. Who, Throné would never know—he would never tell her even if she asked. He placed his hand on her head and the touch was so soft that it made her feel as if she were a decade younger, to when she used to hug his knees, to when he would pick her up to show her the street performers when the crowd was too big, to when... she killed for the first time.

When he spoke again, there was a grief to his voice that she wouldn't understand until she held his hand for one last time. "Your punishment is that you know what it means now to yearn for the light."

———

Throné left a single flower for each of the three new wooden markers that had been erected. She allowed herself to remain there for a moment, reflecting. Out of all of them, she never thought she would be the only one remaining. She would never see them or hear their voices again... and she would remember what Father and Mother had done. It was the final push she needed to realize what she truly wanted. This damned collar would be freed from her neck no matter what, she finally swore.

A bark interrupted her and she looked down, to see that same puppy. A smile came to her lips and she leaned down, reaching into her pocket to pull out a dried strawberry. The puppy eagerly took it, tail wagging up at her. Good. Dogs were honest, unlike people, Throné knew how to deal with them.

"I'm gonna be gone for a while. You'll be a good girl while I'm gone, right?" she spoke even though she knew it wasn't able to answer. Things were always happening in New Delsta and she only hoped this puppy would survive as she did, out here in the streets.

A loud bang startled the both of them and the puppy ran away, scared from the noise. Throné pushed herself up, debating whether to follow after it, or leave on her journey. It was good that it had found her first though, she did mean to feed it one last time before heading out.

There was a sudden yelp though and Throné took off, dashing for the puppy, hoping that it hadn't found trouble in the few minutes she had left it. She rounded the corner—

Throné slowed to a stop because there, in the middle of the street, with the puppy at her heels... Castti looked up at her.

Heavy bags sat under her eyes, and she looked haggard. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows and Throné would see the hints of blackened marks peeking out from underneath, scars that had never been there before. There was a heaviness to her shoulders too that she never had... like a woman haunted.

And when she gazed upon Throné, there was no recognition in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, is this your puppy?" Castti smiled but there was barely any light to it. The warmth that haunted Throné for so long... it was gone.

"No, she's a stray," Throné answered.

"Ah... she's a good girl." Castti leaned down to scratch it behind the ears. The puppy leaned up to lick her mouth and she laughed. She stood back up and looked at Throné, an odd expression crossing her face now.

"I realize this might sound strange but... do you happen to know me?"

Throné blinked. "... I'm sorry?"

"I've... I've lost my memory, and I've been traveling to see if I might find clues about myself," Castti said slowly. "I... forgive me, that was a strange question to ask a stranger."

Throné pushed her lips together. "You said you've lost your memories?"

"I-I know, it sounds hard to believe but I didn't even remember my name!" Castti laughed but there was no humor in her voice. Frankly, it sounded hard to believe but... it had to be true, unless Throné considered the alternative, and that was she had forgotten her time here.

But perhaps, that was for the better. Nothing good came out of New Delsta. Throné released a breath before she spoke again. "No, I don't know who you are, and I've never seen you around here either. You would've had better luck heading the other way."

"Oh..." Castti's face fell. "Thank you then, for that information. I'm sorry to bother you with such a strange request... My notes did say I had stopped by Winterbloom... I'm not sure why I stopped here..." She turned around and began to head toward the entrance.

Throné watched her go. She leaned down to give the puppy one more pet and treat, and stepped forward after Castti. She followed her until they stopped at the entrance, and Castti turned around, eyes widening when she saw Throné there.

"Oh! Are you heading out too?" Castti asked.

Throné didn't answer her right away. She looked up at the sky, watched as a bird soared through the clouds, out into blue skies, and then looked back down at Castti. "Traveling by yourself is going to be dangerous. As it turns out, I happen to have some business in Winterbloom too."

Throné held out her left hand. "I'm willing to lend you a hand if you like."

Castti looked down at her hand and when her eyes landed on the snake, something seemed to flicker in her eyes but as quick as it had come, it was gone. Castti nodded, the corners of her lips curling upward. "It would be nice to travel with someone and... I don't know why but I just feel like I can trust you." She reached out, taking Throné's hand. Her grip was firm—her strength was still there, Throné noted. Her strength... and a flicker of that warmth. "My name is Castti, pleased to meet you. What's your name?"

"Throné," she finally gave.

[lostacelonnie]

Thank you! I kinda just. Realized i pay for all my own stuff & have for years so whats stopping me y'know. Oh we love to hear about the fall of far right leadership i hope that turns out well & you can get your eventual hrt as well. Oh yeah i never wear swimsuits to the beach typically. Always been with people i dont like or too many strangers for my liking. But i like to find seashells & stuff. Oh? English is such a weird language having a partner to learn from who's fluent is like. Required almost. So im glad you had one. I appreciate when people are chill as long as you try its nice & leaves room for mistakes that'll happen inevitably. Got confused for a moment & the concept of having a birthname you dont have listed in your bio lost me like. What do ya mean you had any different name what. Both mine are easy so i dont have that as a first name problem. Where is tromso? I wish you luck in that fall/winter trips are so nice. I especially love to go camping in them because less people so more space. Oh she just gets all the counters wow. Gonna have to focus on her a bit for sure. I dont know if i have enough for guaranteed kafka but i will probably try. Just to see what happens. If nothing else i hope bronya or welt come home for you. Fontaine is one of the regions im most interested in so ill stick through for it but i might squeeze a break in towards natlan honestly. Chasm was. A pain anyways i do not blame you for skipping it honestly. Thats an average day in warsaw? Wild. Ohhh that sounds like it was a blast please pass belated birthday wishes to avery for me. Hair dye is such a fun thing to do congrats on the red! I wanna dye mine again soon. Eyeliner is a thing i wanna teach myself to do too ive just been. Forgetting a lot

yeah thats very understandable!!! and thank you!! after a long time i finally feel at least a little hopeful ab this countrys future but well see. yeah i have the exact same thing but at the same time drying a lot of clothes is Annoying [esp on camps since thats the main place i actually go into the water on] so i often just put regular clothes over a swimsuit. win-win situation. seashells ARE fun to find but i always forget to bring sth to carry them sjdjflksjf plus its pretty hard to find actually nice ones, over here at least. YEAH god plus the way english is taught in polish schools does NOT help so honestly if i didnt have additional lessons i probably wouldnt have learned anything despite studying for a looooong time. and yeah its that way with almost anything isnt it. AH I DO THAT EXACT THING SO OFTEN i genuinely forget that people Have birthnames. or even names in general i just treat usernames as first names a lot of the time. tromso is the place in norway i was in!! pretty far up north but very charming. thank you!! ahhh i almost never go camping but perhaps One Day..... yeah clara has been my best friend ever since i got her. shes so fun to use. thankies and good luck to both of us!!! already got 106 pulls ready + the 9 more from the login event + 20 days left to grind so while i defo wont get enough for guarantee i think it might be possible for me to get her. honestly the region im most excited for is snezhnaya and thats gonna be the last one released iirc so. still a while until that happens. but at least when/if i come back im gonna have a lot of stuff to check out so thats fun. i unfortunately suffer from having to see everything thats new Immediately so i often speedrun new versions in 3 days and them im like....... What Now........ until the next update and then the cycle repeats. ah i should play more games that arent released this way. but yeah while the chasm was quite pretty imo and the story was. well. it wasnt STUNNING but it was fun. but the exploration aspect SUCKED good lord i hated how i could never quite tell if im in the region displayed on the map or below it. agh. glad thats over. and well yknow how it is with big cities, at least i live in a fairly peaceful part so we dont really have big stuff like that often. i will!! and thanks!! i agree hair dye IS very fun but unfortunately my hair texture makes it really hard for dye to stick so it washes off quickly :'] but alas. and yeah fair jdjfklg i have the same thing PLUS. its annoying i can never get it even

[earlgreydream]

indecency.

| loki x reader | smut | fluff |

cw: dark!loki -> soft!loki, spanking, edging, slight degradation, angry!loki

You knew better.

You knew there was no way you were going to get away with it. You knew there would be consequences to your actions, but you were so pent up with need, you had fooled yourself into thinking you could get away with breaking one of Loki’s rules, and benefiting from it. 

Loki was strict, and had little patience for indecency and insubordination. He demanded obedience, and enforced it with punishment.

It was incredibly dangerous to test Loki. Loki was a lot of things, but merciful was not one of them. Any infraction required discipline, often severe. 

One of Loki’s rules was that you were his, and his alone. All pleasure had to come from him, touching yourself without permission was strictly forbidden in his castle. He wanted to be the one to inflict all of your ecstasy, everything to come from him. Occasionally, he would give you permission, often so he could watch. Aside from that, it infuriated him when you touched yourself secretly.

You knew this, and yet you’d chosen to defy him anyway. There was no way it would be worth it in the long run, but you were desperate and in need. Loki had been neglectful of you over the last few days, busy and overwhelmed with royal duties. You spent the week a ball of pent-up sexual frustration, and if you didn’t take care of yourself, you were going to explode. 

Loki’s anger burned through him like wildfire.

He’d returned to your chambers after an incredibly stressful morning, his only desire to rest with you. Asgard was demanding, and he was tired from ruling, craving the feeling of sleeping with you in his arms. Instead, when he had entered, he found you on the bed, your small fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. You were writhing on the bedsheets, moans mixing with the lewd noises of your fingers. Your head was thrown back and your spine arched, pushing your breasts out as you fucked yourself.

Loki stood utterly still for a moment, unnoticed by you. He couldn’t deny that the sight was incredibly arousing, but it was overshadowed by the anger toward your disobedience. He strode toward you, fed up with your misbehavior.

Your startled scream echoed off of the arching ceilings as Loki’s hand gripped your jaw. Your eyes snapped open, and you were met with sadistic green eyes that were filled with irritation.

“You believe you can pleasure yourself better than I? Or are you just an insolent brat?” Loki snarled, and you were too frightened to answer. Your eyes were wide, and you immediately pulled your fingers out of yourself. Your thighs twitched at the sudden loss of stimulation, and you sank into the mattress, failing to put distance between you and Loki.

Regret washed over you, fear prickling through your naked body. Loki was seething, and terror seized your veins. The fear and his anger added to the heat in your belly, upping your arousal. You loved to see Loki mad, even when it scared you. 

“Since you’re so comfortable being indecent, you’ll take your punishment on the throne!”

“No!” You shrieked, making the god’s fury spike. You’d said it just to be a brat, unable to resist to dig yourself in deeper with his patience. You immediately wanted to take it back, realizing you made it much worse by objecting. You struggled to breathe under Loki’s threatening gaze, both of your wrists gripped together in one of his hands.

“If you dare to disobey me again, I’ll let the entire realm watch me beat your ass raw,” Loki’s threat was not an empty one, and you closed your mouth. A shudder rolled through your spine, and Loki rolled his eyes, slapping your ass as he dragged you up. 

You nearly tripped over your feet as Loki hauled you from the bed, parading you through the halls and throne room, naked for the entire castle to see. Tears obstructed your vision, but you knew any more disobedience would result in far more catastrophic punishment.

You were red with embarrassment, nauseated by the knowledge he hadn’t truly begun to punish you yet. You were tripping up the golden steps to the raised throne, feeling like you were on a stage. Loki dragged you over his lap on the throne, his entire royal guard and Valkyrie present to witness the consequences of your behavior. You were fully exposed and on display for everyone, left with no chance of concealing yourself.

“I’m sorry!” You cried out as he struck you. Servants winced as the noise echoed off of the golden walls, thankful they weren’t in your position. 

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and they didn’t understand why you kept doing things to get you in this position. Nobody wanted to be at the mercy of Loki’s wrath, and they couldn’t imagine the motivation behind your actions that you knew resulted with these consequences. They were blushing for you as you got spanked in front of everyone, choked tears blinding your vision and making it hard to breathe.

Loki knew you secretly loved it. 

“You will be,” Loki’s voice was like ice, and he had you sobbing within minutes. You were burning with shame, struggling on his lap from the pain of his assault on your ass. He’d conjured some kind of leather strap that bit into your tender skin, leaving red welts in its wake. Your cries and squeals of pain echoed off of the high ceilings, and the court couldn’t look away from you. 

Your skin was stinging from Loki’s unforgiving blows, the leather a deep green against your red skin. He got twisted pleasure from watching bruises blossom to the surface of your skin and running his fingers along the raised welts he was creating. Your body jerked forward and you yelped in pain as he slapped you with his hand, irritating your backside further.

“Loki, please!” you shrieked, begging for reprieve. The leather cracked against your skin before it vanished, and he dragged you to sit up and straddle him, your skin burning as it rubbed against the fabric of his armor. Your face was streaked with tears, and he raised an eyebrow at you. He cupped your sex, making another wave of heat wash over you.

“Why are you crying when I can feel how soaked it made you?” Loki mocked you, squeezing your throat as a broken moan escaped you.

“Answer me.”

“Because I’m a slut,” you whispered, knowing what he wanted. You were done pushing your luck, and you wanted to be good, not wanting him to inflict any more painful punishment. A smirk pulled at his lips, and he kissed you roughly. Your hands carefully wrapped around his forearm, stabilizing yourself. He held back a smile at the action. It made you seem innocent, and Loki loved your midgardian fragility. He loved the way you gripped onto him, even when he’d just tore your ass up, only making you more clingy and needy for him.

“Do you intend to obey your king now?” Loki asked, bouncing his knee and making you gasp from the friction on your clit, your small hands squeezing him at the sensation. 

“Yes, I’ll be good!” you insisted, pouting your lips for a kiss. Even when Loki was furious, he wasn’t one to deny you of affection. Familiar with what it felt like to be unloved, he never wanted you to feel the same.

Loki’s clothes disappeared with magic, and he grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. You winced at the pressure on your tender skin, and pushed against his chest.

“Knock it off, or I’ll turn you to face the court.” 

You shook your head vehemently, wanting to hide in him. You knew he was going easy on you now, and you didn’t want to ruin it. You hid your face in his neck, leaning into his chest. You knelt above him, and you felt his tip brushing through your soaked folds, jumping as he came into contact with your nerves.

Loki sank you down into him, holding your hips and guiding your movements. Your head rested on his chest and he bounced you on him with rough thrusts. You whined into his shoulder as he rubbed your nerves, building pressure in your abdomen. You dragged your nails down his back, your body tensing and heat started to spark through you. 

You were close to your orgasm, but Loki had other plans for you, none of which included letting you come. He was proud of how well you’d taken the punishment up to this point, but he wasn’t finished with making you learn a lesson.

Loki pulled his hand from in between you, thrusting all the way into you and holding you still on him. You squealed and writhed on him, trying to get some friction. He didn’t have it, and you were forced to hold still with his thick cock buried deep inside of your throbbing heat.

“Be good!” Loki snapped, and you yelped as he slapped the side of your thigh in warning. You realized he hadn’t gone easy on you, and was now going to edge you on the throne while everyone watched.

Once the burning in your nerves subsided, he rocked you against him again, building the pressure back up. Every time you made a noise you were rewarded with a red handprint on your thigh, the pain sending shocks through you and pushing you further toward the edge.

“I’m going to absolutely ravage you,” Loki growled into your neck, making your eyes roll back and a grin pull at your lips.

You had gotten exactly what you wanted, but now you were desperate for the release you craved. 

“Loki, please let me-” you were cut off by a particularly rough thrust upward, making him smirk.

“Let you what, darling?” He teased, slamming into you every time you tried to speak. He edged you for nearly an hour before he finally decided you’d had enough. You had been good, taking it without complaint, other than pathetic whimpers that echoed off the golden ceilings. 

You were aching and throbbing, every small touch making you writhe at his fingertips. Loki knew your limits, and he was pushing them, watching your eyes turn glassy. He’d sank into your mind, filling it with images, memories, of him railing you and making you come a thousand times over. His sick use of magic only made you melt more, completely pliant to all of his demands, letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

You were unable to sit up off of him or speak, only making soft breathy pleads. Your body shuddered from the stimulation, and you sobbed weakly when he finally let you orgasm. You involuntarily jolted in his arms, a low whine humming through your chest. Waves of exhausting ecstasy crashed over you, the hour of edging turning into a powerful release.

Loki let you catch your breath for a minute before sliding out of you, easing you to rest on his lap. The subjects in the throne room looked away, knowing better than to continue watching when Loki was finished punishing you.

He wrapped you in his emerald cloak, concealing your exhausted body. He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you out and back to his chambers. The silky fabric was cool and smooth against your abused skin, and you relaxed into his arms.

“Are you still mad?” You whispered into his chest, your cheek resting against his cool skin. Your head was cloudy, and your thoughts were unclear, needing Loki to reassure you that it was over.

“No, my darling. Never with you,” he kissed you lightly, bumping his nose against yours. You tightened the green silk around you, and he smiled into your hair as he sat down with you curled up in his lap.

“Was that all just to get my attention?”

You nodded shyly, embarrassed that he saw right through you.

“If you want pleasure, you need only ask me, I will be more than happy to give it to you.” 

Loki was no longer teasing or mocking you, and he gently tilted your chin up so you were looking into his deep green eyes. You nodded, and he kissed your rosy cheeks. 

[soramei]

From Resentment (hhj)

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader (she/her)

Summary: After a fated meeting involving a cute and fluffy puppy, you found yourself drawn to Hwang Hyunjin: the school prince. Everybody in high school loved him. It was hard not to. Not only was he rich, smart, and athletic, but he was also incredibly kind-hearted.

However, one day seemingly out of the blue, everything that you thought Hyunjin was came crashing down.

Now a freshman in university, you were excited to live out your dreams. That was, until Hyunjin came hurtling back into your life like an uncontrolled meteor. His presence threw a curveball on all your plans, and would eventually change your perspective on everything that you thought you knew.

Genre: studentl!hyunjin au, angst, enemies to lovers

Warnings: cursing, tw puking

Word Count: 8.8k

Masterlist

A/N: Not an Intentional update but a hyunjin oneshot!! disclaimer: no aspect of hyunjins personality here was drawn from real life — irl hyunjin is a ray of sunshine <3

You looked at your math homework, proud that you got all the answers correct. Since it was a slow afternoon at your job today, you had extra time to focus on your homework. The boss at the convenience store you worked at allowed you to have your homework out, as long as it was hidden behind the cash register.

As you stared at the rest of your homework, you started to feel the weight of tenth grade pile up on you. Because it was your first year of high school, you were still trying to adjust to everything; your grades, your teachers, and all the new students walking around the halls.

You stuffed the rest of your homework in your backpack. It was the end of your shift, and you wanted to go home as soon as possible to start with the rest of your studying. Crap. No matter how hard you tried to zip up your backpack, it wouldn’t close. After trying one more time, the zipper tore from your backpack.

You cursed under your breath. You couldn’t afford to buy a new backpack right now.

You had just been able to afford your new school uniform by taking up extra shifts at the convenience store, and you still needed money for your grandmother’s prescriptions. You sighed, annoyed to have another monetary stressor weighing on your shoulders.

Walking outside with your now torn backpack, your eyes widened at the group of boys in front of you. You immediately recognized them from behind.

The school princes. These three seniors were all known for three things: being extremely smart, handsome, and talented.

On the left was Seungmin, and from what you’ve heard, he was the smart and quiet one. He was always helping the teachers, being the class president and all. Any time a girl or a boy needed academic help, Seungmin was there and happy to assist.

The person on the right was Jisung. With his charming and charismatic personality, he had dated tens upon tens of girls in his grade. Just in the last year. It helped that he was really good looking — and also stinkin’ rich. His father was a notorious restaurateur, and with him being the first son, he was basically given unlimited spending rights.

The only person richer than Jisung was the boy in the center of them both: Hwang Hyunjin. This boy was the school prince. The prince of princes. He somehow managed to participate in music clubs, engage in study groups, and captain the soccer team all the while keeping up excellent grades. Every girl that Jisung had dated was said to have been rejected by Hyunjin first. That was his only flaw: he was notoriously cold to any and all romantic confessions.

You followed behind the three princes, staring at your torn up sneakers. You knew you didn’t exist in their world, but even being near three handsome and rich teenage boys made you nervous.

Suddenly, you heard a whimper coming from behind a bush to the left of you. It sounded like a hurt animal.

Worried and curious, you walked over to the bush to see what it was.

It was a puppy. Small and fluffy, it looked up at you with it’s beady black eyes and cried out. His paw was bleeding.

You panicked. Having never seen a hurt puppy before, you had no idea what to do. You called out for help.

“Help!” you cried, hoping that somebody had heard your call for help. You desperately wanted to help this hurt puppy, but you hesitated to touch it, afraid that you would hurt the animal even more.

The puppy howled in pain, making your panic rise. You were about to call out for help again, when you heard somebody running up behind you.

“What is it?” The voice asked.

“I-I don’t know. I just saw this dog here, and-and his paw is bleeding,” you anxiously stuttered.

“Here, let me take a look.”

You heard the voice behind you, so you shuffled over to make room.

It was Hwang Hyunjin. The person that responded to your cry for help was the most popular and well-liked person in the school. You were shocked, a bit intimidated actually, so you silently moved to the side for him. His black hair shone in the sunlight as he bent down to examine the dog.

“Come here, boy,” he chirped. The puppy listened, and started limping to him. “Something hurt you, didn’t it.”

He stood up, picking the puppy up along with him.

“C’mon,” he gestured with his head, “my vet isn’t too far from here actually. We can make it by walking.”

You silently nodded and followed him.

He was right. The walk to the veterinarian clinic, though very awkward, wasn’t too far. The clinic was empty at this time of day, with the receptionist being the only person in the room.

“Hyunjin! Always a pleasure,” the receptionist beamed. It seemed like Hyunjin’s likeability wasn’t only confined to your school. “My, what do we have here?”

“There’s something wrong with his paw,” Hyunjin tried to show the receptionist where the blood was coming from, “is the doctor free right now?”

“As a matter of fact, he is,” the receptionist said whilst checking the schedule. “I’ll take this little boy to the back where he can get prepped for the veterinarian.”

Hyunjin handed the puppy carefully to the receptionist. The receptionist took out a crate for the dog, put him in, and then disappeared through the back door. The two of you were now left alone in the waiting room.

“Uhm,” you coughed, “thank you. I know you probably want to get back to your friends, so you can leave now.”

“No, I’ll stay,” he looked at you and smiled, “those idiots are just playing LOL at the PC room anyways. Plus, I want to see how this little boy turns out.”

You smiled back at him, nodding your head. A few moments of awkward silence passed.

“I’m Hyunjin by the way,” he said.

“I know. I’m Y/n.”

“You’re in your first year, right?” he said, looking at the colour of your uniform.

“Yeah, it’s so hard to get used to though. I’m trying my best with my homework, but I think this school stuff just doesn’t click with me,” you rambled.

“Oh?”

“I want to go into dance. I’ve never been able to afford professional lessons, but I’ve always wanted to go to university for dance. My grandparents said they would let me if my school grades were high.” You didn’t know why you were giving your life story to Hyunjin. He just had this natural charisma that made you want to spill everything to him. It was the way he looked at you with those cat-like eyes.

“I know what you mean. It took me forever to convince my parents for me to major in dance. I got in by early admittance, but I’m sure they still have their reservations about my major.”

“You’re majoring in dance?” you asked, eyes wide.

He smiled. “I’ve loved dancing ever since I could remember. It’s my passion, and truthfully, the only thing I’ve got going for me.”

You were shocked. At school, Hyunjin was known for so many things other than dancing. Hell, you didn’t even know he enjoyed dancing and you thought you’d heard everything about him already.

The two of you chatted for a while longer before the vet came out with the now happy looking dog.

“It seemed like this little guy got into a fight with something, and he got a pretty large gash on his paw. Luckily, it wasn’t bleeding too much so I just gave him some anaesthetic and stitched it right up.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god he isn’t too hurt.”

“Yes, it’s good that it wasn’t too bad,” the veterinarian agreed. “I’m assuming this is your dog? As soon as you finish with the bill, I can release this little guy and the both of you are ready to go.”

Oh yeah. The bill.

Although you knew you couldn’t afford to pay the vet bill, you didn’t know where this little dog would go if you couldn’t take him home. You did the mental calculations, and if you worked some extra shifts, you could probably be able to pick up the bill today. Buying a new backpack could be saved for another day.

“Sure, where can I pay?” you asked.

“Just over by the receptionist.” The veterinarian pointed.

You walked over to the receptionist, and she handed the bill over to you.

You almost fainted.

Just the anaesthetic and the stitches alone cost over two hundred dollars. This was extremely over your budget, and probably even more than the amount in your savings. You felt uneasy.

“Uhm, actually, I don’t think I can-”

“Do you take cash?”

Hyunjin had interrupted you, walked up to the receptionist, and pulled out his wallet. He peaked over your shoulder and took out a huge wad of cash to hand to the receptionist.

“Hyunjin, you don’t have to,” you begged. You felt bad that this guy you didn’t even know had just offered to cover you for over two hundred dollars.

“Think of it as a good luck gift from a fellow dancer.” He smiled.

That was when it clicked. You didn’t know what clicked, but it just did. It was his smile. It was the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up and how the corners of his lips pinched at the end. You now understood why all the girls at school were in love with him. He was quite literally perfect.

You thanked him profusely, even after the two of you had left the clinic. With the dog in your hand, you walked side by side with Hyunjin.

“So,” he started, “have you thought of a name for this guy yet?”

Oh yeah — he was your dog now. “Hmm, I don’t know yet.”

“What about Coco?”

“Coco?”

“Yeah, let’s see if he likes it.” Hyunjin leaned in and cooed at the little puppy. “Hi, little Coco!”

The puppy’s eyes lit up, and with his tongue stretched out, he started panting.

“I guess he likes it,” Hyunjin smiled. God, his smile could melt all of Antarctica.

“Coco it is.” You poked at Coco’s nose.

Hyunjin was about to say something back to you when his phone buzzed. He took a peak, rolled his eyes, then smiled. “My friends are god awful at games. I swear, they can’t even win one round without me. You’re okay with going home alone?”

He was going to walk you home? Could he be any more perfect?

You nodded your head. “Thank you, Hyunjin. I’ll pay you back for the bill one day.”

“No need,” he winked. “Like I said, it’s a good luck gift. Oh, and you can ask me if you need help with any school work. Anything to help a fellow dancer.”

He waved goodbye, then went running off in the other direction. You held Coco close to you, heart pounding. Although you didn’t want to be like all the other girls who fell for him, you felt like you were already falling for Hyunjin.

-

The next day, you had planned to go shopping for dog supplies after school. After a really long and arduous debate with yourself, you decided to sacrifice all of your savings in order to buy everything that Coco needed. You knew Hyunjin owned a dog himself, so throughout the whole day, you worked up the nerve to ask Hyunjin to come with you.

At the end of last period, you gathered all your stuff from your desk and headed to the soccer field where you knew Hyunjin and his friends would be. Whilst you crossed the field, you noticed Jisung staring at you. You found his stare intimidating, but you tried to brush it off. He then whispered something in Hyunjin’s ear.

“Hi, Hyunjin,” you said anxiously, biting your lip. “Umm, do you want to come with me to shop for Coco?”

He stared at you for a couple seconds, then, a look of disgust appeared on his face. “Why? So you can use my wallet again?”

You stared back at him, wide eyed. Who was this person? It wasn’t the Hyunjin that so graciously helped you out yesterday.

“W-what? No!” you exclaimed. “I-I just wanted your opinion…”

“Sure,” Hyunjin smirked coldly, “opinion my ass.”

“Hyunjin,” tears were pooling in your eyes, “I don’t understand.”

“If you need money so much, here.” He reached in his pocket and turned up a wad of cash, throwing it at your feet. “Just don’t come to me next time. And buy yourself a new pair of shoes while you’re at it.”

You looked down at the money, trying to hold back your tears. Why was Hyunjin being like this? You didn’t understand. His two jockeys beside him didn’t even bother to stop him. As you tried to stop yourself from crying, you felt your sadness turn into rage.

“I don’t need your stupid money,” you said, kicking the cash back to him. “Maybe you can use your daddy’s money to buy yourself a new personality.”

Hyunjin’s two friends tried to hold back their snickers at your words. Hyunjin heard, turned around, and gave them both death stares.

You didn’t bother to listen to whatever he was going to say next and simply stomped away, rage burning inside you. Everything about him was a lie. His charming and charismatic personality, his generosity, his kindness. They were all lies. He really was nothing but a rich, spoiled boy living with his father’s money.

There was rage behind every step you took. Wiping away your tears, you headed to your locker. You didn’t need him anyways; it was better to realize his true personality earlier rather than later. Hands shaking from anger, you dialed the combination to your locker.

“Hey, sorry about what happened earlier.” A voice came from behind you. “He can be a real jerk sometimes.”

It was Jisung. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t want to see him either.

“Why didn’t you do anything about it then?” Your voice came out shaky. It was obvious that you had cried.

“Once he starts, there’s no stopping him. It’s usually better to let him finish uninterrupted, or else he will get more mad.”

“Oh,” you said. Your hatred for Hyunjin grew even more.

“I could come with you, though. I don’t know much about dogs, but I can help you carry your bags.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon, no way you can carry everything by yourself.”

You hesitated. “Okay, I guess.”

And so, you left for the pet store with Jisung, still confused about everything that had happened. It was strange with him. He was nice and cracked a joke every now and then, but it was just different from being with Hyunjin. At least he was nice, you thought.

Your trip went well. You managed to buy everything you needed for Coco. In a turn of events, Jisung had actually come in handy as he offered to carry the huge bag of dog food you bought. He even offered to buy you a coffee.

“Thanks for all your help, Jisung.” You stood outside the door of your apartment, smiling at him.

“No problem, gives me an excuse to work out my guns.” He pretended to flex his arms.

You choked back a laugh.

“You should get going now. It’s late,” you said.

“Alright,” he started to leave. “Hey, if you see me in the halls, feel free to say hi.”

You nodded and waved to him as he turned and walked away, remembering his words. Every time you saw Jisung in the school hallways, you gave him a small wave in which he happily returned. However, whenever you saw him walking with Hyunjin, you made sure to purposely avoid them. You didn’t want any negativity in your life.

You kept up the waves, and soon, waves turned to small conversations which soon turned to flirting. By the end of the semester, you and Jisung somehow ended up as a couple. Jisung was polite and sweet, unlike a certain person. With every free moment you had, you hung out with Jisung — all the while avoiding Hyunjin.

The two of you stayed a couple for the rest of Jisung’s senior year. Somehow, the two of you had even kept up your relationship throughout your whole high school experience. It was hard at times as he went to university, but with a lot of effort, you had made your relationship work out. You barely had time to talk with him, but you enjoyed the little time that you did have. Jisung had never even once mentioned Hyunjin when you were together, and with time, you had totally forgotten about that jerk. You weren’t even sure if they were still friends.

You worked hard in school and reaped all the benefits. Your rank had consistently been in the top twenties amongst all the other students, and you even had time to practice your dancing. You remembered the day that you received your acceptance letter from university. Hands shaking, you had barely managed to open the letter all the way before you screamed. You had gotten into university with your dream major: dance.

Because of your excellent grades, you were able to pay a lot of your tuition with scholarship money alone. You hesitantly decided to quit your job at the convenience store to focus on university. Although quitting meant that your bank account would take a big hit, you decided that it would be best in the long run. There was a lot in your savings, and you even had a little extra to buy a new outfit for your first day of school.

Jisung had been busy on the first day of university. He had previously promised to show you around campus, but with him being a no-show, you wandered around by yourself to try to find your classes. You had trouble with the campus map at first, but after walking around for a bit, you were able to find all your classes with ease.

Your first few classes were a snore. Because they were all theory, you had to down two cups of coffee in order to stay awake. Somehow, you managed to take coherent notes despite being bored out of your mind. You just wanted to dance.

The good thing was, after sitting through many classes, your time to dance finally came. Your last class of the day was an introduction to dance course, and you couldn’t wait to go. You wanted to know your teacher, your peers, and most importantly, express yourself.

The dance class was in a studio in the university’s fitness center. It was huge, way bigger than the tiny gym in your high school. Upon entering the studio, you were immediately met with the sight of students, exactly like you, already stretching. You chose a spot in the room and started stretching as well, making good use of your time before the instructor comes in.

After some time, most of the students — including you — had finished stretching and were sitting in silence waiting for the instructor. The door swung open, breaking the silence. The instructor had come in.

“Hello new students,” he said, “welcome to Dance 100. Today, I will go through the curriculum with you as well as introduce your final project.”

The instructor whipped out a projection of the curriculum and started explaining the purpose of the course, what you would be graded on, and how you would be graded. He then read through his class expectations before moving to your final project.

“This final project will act in place of a final exam,” he explained. “You will be required to create a dance that includes everything we’ve learned in class and write an essay explaining all the elements in your dance. It will be worth half your grade.”

The class gasped in surprise. Not only did this project sound extremely difficult for a first year course, but the fact that it was worth half your grade made it borderline unfair.

“I know it might seem difficult, but worry not, you won’t be doing this alone. Every year, the first year dance students get mentored by the third year dance students for the final project. Each student has already been assigned a random mentor which will be introduced this class.”

The whole class murmured, talking amongst themselves and expressing their opinions on this project. It was definitely an interesting project. You hoped that you would be paired with a good mentor that would actually care about how well you did.

There was a knock on the door.

“Ah, this must be them.” Your instructor opened the door and a wave of third years came flooding in. Each one of them had a name tag pinned on their shirts. “Class, these are the third year students.”

You all politely greeted them.

“Now,” the instructor continued, “I will put the class list on the projector, and each of your names will correspond to a third year mentor.”

The instructor put out the list for display. You scanned down the list of names, eventually finding yours. Following the dots to your corresponding mentor, you almost choked on air when you saw yours.

It was Hwang Hyunjin.

You were at a loss for words. Just when you thought he was out of your life forever, the man that was so incredibly mean to you — the man you hated with your whole soul — was now your mentor. Just the thought of being in the same room as him filled you with disgust.

You scanned the sea of third year students, and your eyes immediately found him. He was staring back at you with the same shocked expression that you had on.

He looked different. Not only had he grown taller, but he had lost all his baby fat as well. His hair was different too. It was bleached blond and it almost hit his shoulders. What was the same, however, was his intense stare and his plump lips.

You walked over to him.

“You look different.” His eyes scanned up and down.

“So do you.” You clenched your jaw and sighed. “I guess we have to work together.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said flatly.

“Listen,” you copied his tone, “I’m not excited about this either, but I want to get a good grade for this class. If you don’t wanna help me, just say so and I’ll just work alone on this.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he rolled his eyes, “this is part of my grade too. I can’t let you fuck this up for the both of us.”

You rolled your eyes back at him and pressed your lips in a thin line. Ignoring what he said, you asked, “where do we start?”

“Let’s find a time to meet every week.” He pulled out the newest iPad model from his bag. Of course he would have the newest iPad. “I’m busy every day except Saturday, so let’s meet then.”

Way to consider your opinion. He was lucky that you weren’t busy on the weekends.

As Hyunjin worked on sorting his schedule, you took your time to look at how he had changed. With his hair blonde, he looked like a completely different person. You didn’t understand why he kept his hair long though. It kept falling in his eyes.

“Stop staring at me. It’s freaking me out.” He narrowed his eyes at you.

“I wasn’t.” You crossed your arms, defending yourself.

“Whatever.” He tucked his hair behind his ear and put his iPad back in his bag. “Don’t be late on Saturday.”

And with that, he left. You looked around the class. Most of the other students were still with their mentors, presumably getting to know each other and discussing the project. You almost wanted to ask your instructor to switch with somebody else, but that would mean passing on the nightmare known as Hwang Hyunjin onto a perfectly innocent person. You had your moments, but you weren’t evil.

The interaction with Hyunjin had left you in a sour mood for the rest of the day. You tried to study, but you were too distracted by the thought of having to work with that monstrosity for a whole semester. It was worth so much of your grade, too. You had just hoped that Hyunjin was as good at dance as he previously told you. You remembered him saying how dance was his passion in life. That was when you still liked him. Who knows, maybe he only said that so he could play you like every other girl he played with.

For the rest of the week, whenever you thought of the dance project, you were filled with dread. You tried to ignore it, and sometimes it worked, but most of the time it kept reappearing in your mind like a virus. The way Hyunjin had infected your mind bothered you to no end.

Time passed fast though, and before you knew it, Saturday had already come. Searching through your closet, you picked out a simple outfit for practice today. You slid on your tattered old sneakers and headed off to the studio that Hyunjin had told you to go to.

Entering the dance studio, you noticed that you were right on time. However, Hyunjin was not. Great… He made such a big deal over you being on time that he himself forgot to be punctual. You sat on the wood floors and started to do some stretches to warm up.

Eventually, after you finished your stretching, he entered the studio. With a girl. Holding a textbook, Hyunjin handed it to the girl and put on his signature deceitful smile. His ugly, perfect smile. The girl batted her eyes and waved her fingers goodbye before strolling out the door. You rolled your eyes at this, feeling bad for the girl. Hyunjin was playing her right in front of her own eyes and she didn’t even realize it.

“Were you really late because of a girl?” you sneered.

“Why do you care?” he retorted, flinging his bag to the corner of the room.

“I don’t.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Not wanting to waste time with that childish banter, you decided to end the conversation then and there. “Okay, well anyways, I’ll show you what I learned in class this week.”

Hooking up your phone to the speaker, you chose the song that you’ve been practicing with for the whole week. As the song progressed, you found it hard to not get lost in the music. Just dancing was the easy part; incorporating everything learned in class was another story. Although it was fairly difficult, you thought you executed everything very well as the song came to an end. Finishing up, you panted from exhaustion and looked at Hyunjin for his comments.

He stood, with his arms crossed across his torso, leaning against the speaker. There was a blank expression on his face.

“Not bad.” He started to walk up to you.

“But?”

“But you’re too stiff. You’re too focused on perfectly executing the technical moves that you forget to just move your body. Do what you did half-way through the song again.”

You turned the music on, trying to do the dance with Hyunjin’s criticisms in mind. Looking in the mirror, you did your best to show as much emotion as possible, all the while moving more fluidly. The room was filled with heavy bass and the squeaks from your sneakers.

Suddenly, the music was abruptly cut off.

Hyunjin had stopped the music and was making his way over, face still unreadable.

“You’re still trying too hard and it shows.” Hyunjin shook his head.

Clenching your jaw, you did your best to hold back your anger. Were you just not supposed to try? This annoyed you. Just because he didn’t need to try to be good at anything didn’t mean you couldn’t.

“Well,” you tried to say calmly, “how can I do this then?”

“You have to relax.” He put one hand on your hip and started to guide you. “Don’t focus on each individual aspect, but try to imagine everything as a whole. Then, things will come naturally.”

You followed his hand, allowing Hyunjin to guide you to his own rhythm. After a while, every movement felt so fluid and you didn’t even notice that your face started to match your movements. Glancing at your reflection, you gasped, noticing how different your dancing looked. You whipped your head to face Hyunjin, the two of your inches apart and breathing heavily.

“See,” he mumbled, looking down at you. “Once you stop thinking, everything just comes naturally.”

You looked back at the person inches away from you. It almost felt as if he was being kind. But you knew the type of person he was. You weren’t going to let this happen again. Snapping out of what weird trance you were in, you pushed him away in an act of self perseverance.

He didn’t say anything.

“I’ll try again,” you said.

Hyunjin strolled over to the speaker and turned on the music. This time, you didn’t think about anything you learned in class or Hyunjin’s criticisms. You just trusted in your body. Everything else was blank.

Taking a step forward while still in your trance, your shoe lost its grip on the floor, causing you to fall right on your knee. You cried in pain, holding on to your knee.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin hissed. He ran over and bent down to your level. “Can you move it?”

“I think so.” You tried to straighten your knee. It hurt, but you were still able to do it. There would most likely be a nasty bruise there the next morning.

“You’re still wearing those scraps that you call shoes? They’re literally coming apart at the seams. This is going to happen again if you don’t get new ones.”

You blushed in embarrassment from his remarks. “I’m not going to spend money on things that I don’t need.”

“Well, you need shoes. Just go buy a new pair later.”

Was he being serious? Or was he just spoiled?

“Hyunjin, not everybody can just go spend money whenever they want,” you loudly sighed. “Unlike you, I need to consider my budget for most things.”

“Well, why can’t you ask your boyfriend to buy it?” he sneered. “Seems like you’re good at doing that.”

How did he know you were still dating Jisung? What did he mean by ‘good at doing that’?

“What?” You crossed your eyebrows. “Do you think I’m with him just for his money? Do I really look like that kind of person to you?”

“You used me for my money,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What?” You couldn’t hear him right.

“Nevermind, rehearsal's over.” He stomped off, leaving you alone in the practice room holding on to your injured knee.

-

You busied yourself with everything and anything you could do over the weekend in order to forget what happened during rehearsal. However, no matter how hard you tried to forget, Hyunjin’s comments on your shoes stuck in your mind like glue.

During your shift at your job, you couldn’t help but keep staring at your worn sneakers. You never paid attention to your shoes before until now. They did the job, so why would you need to buy a new pair? Still, you unconsciously paid attention to every step you took.

On Monday’s dance class, you decided to go early. It was always nice to warm up in a room with other try-hards. They felt less judgemental than the others.

The studio barely had anybody in it this early before class. Everybody was either stretching or had already started going over what was taught last week. Shuffling your way over to your locker, you couldn’t help but compare everybody else’s shoes to your own. You’ve never cared about trivial matters such as shoes, but you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious as your worn-in sneakers squeaked its way over to the lockers.

Opening your locker, your eyes widened, shocked at what you saw. Inside was a box containing a brand new pair of sneakers. It was an expensive brand as well, a brand that you never thought you would be touching in your life. You turned your head around, scanning the room. Everybody seemed to have been busy with their own thing.

Did somebody put these in your locker by mistake?

Taking the shoes out, you noticed a small slip of paper fly out. You picked up the note.

Keep these. I was a jerk.

You knew who had sent this. It was Hyunjin. You didn’t know what game he was trying to play at, but you weren’t going to fall for it like you did that day in high school. Gingerly putting the shoes back in your locker, you decided to return these back to Hyunjin at your next practice.

-

“No, I gave them to you as a gift.” Hyunjin turned his nose up at you, refusing to take back the shoes.

“Why would you give these to me if you think that I only use people for their money?”

“Because,” he rolled his eyes, “if you’re unable to dance then my grade is screwed as well.”

He made a good point, but you were stubborn. “Still…”

“You know what? Keep it, give it away, sell it, I don’t care. Let’s just start practice.”

After that dance practice, you threw your old shoes in the trash.

-

It was midterm season a month into school. You thought you had gone to hell and back with high school, but this was even worse. Each day consisted of waking up, studying, and going back to sleep. You lived on coffee and toast. It wasn’t much, but it gave you the energy to sit at the library for hours to study.

You didn’t see anybody during the midterm season, Instead, you chose to hermit yourself up at the library for days on end. This meant that, at least for a couple of weeks, your dance practice with Hyunjin was put on hiatus. Not that he minded, of course. He happily deleted the practices from his schedule.

You also didn’t see much of your boyfriend, Jisung. Ever since school started, he seemed to always be missing in action. He would almost never have time to be with you, and with the few moments that he was, it seemed like he was always so apathetic towards you. You brushed this off as stress though, as you finally knew what it was like to experience university exams.

It was a clear and sunny day on the morning you finished your last midterm. Leaving the exam room, you looked up to the sky, basking in the sun. Today was going to be a good day. Not only were you now stress free, but you were also invited to an end-of-midterm party for your dance class tonight. You had never gone to a university party before, so when a classmate asked if you wanted to go, you eagerly accepted.

Wrapping up your dance class, you stood at your locker, gathering the rest of your stuff.

“Hey.” An arm wrapped around you.

“Hey, Jisung.” You smiled, turning around to face him.

“You’re done all your midterms?”

“Yup.” You nodded happily.

He took a look at your shoes.

“New shoes?”

You hesitated in answering his question, not knowing where Jisung was with Hyunjin in terms of friendship. It was better to be truthful now rather than apologizing later.

“Hyunjin gave it to me.” You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. Why were you afraid of Jisung’s response?

“Wait, what? Hwang Hyunjin? Like from high school? Y/n, I thought you hated him.”

“I did! And I do,” you tried to explain, “but he had a reason to give me this.”

“Bullshit, Y/n. You’re really gonna believe any reason he pulls out of his ass? I thought you actually matured from high school.”

“Well, you would understand if you were around more often!” you yelled. You knew it was wrong to address other problems and blow this out of proportion, but you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was clouded with anger.

“What does this have to do with anything?” Jisung barked back. “What we’re talking about is how you, no matter how shitty of a person Hyunjin is, keep going back to him! Y/n, all that man does is take. He takes from you and he sure as hell takes everything from me. I won’t let that happen this time.”

When had he taken anything from you? All he had done was give.

“Jisung, let’s end this.”

“You’re right. Let’s cool down and talk later tonight.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I mean, let's end us.”

Jisung looked at you in disgust. “It’s Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

“No,” you vehemently denied, “Jisung, you never have time for me, and the little time we do have together you act like a different person. And now you’re being all possessive just because Hyunjin gave me a gift? I’m sorry, I just don’t see us recovering from this.”

“Fine, whatever.” Jisung turned around. “We’re done. But Y/n, don’t come running back to me when Hyunjin screws you over like he does with everybody.”

After Jisung left, you stomped your foot on the ground, tears pooling in your eyes. It was for the best — breaking up with him. For the past month, you hadn’t been happy with where your relationship was going, but this wasn’t the way you wanted to end an almost three year relationship.

Wiping away your tears, you tried to compose yourself before heading over to the pub. Jisung wasn’t worth the tears.

The walk to the pub wasn’t far as every establishment catered to students was a short walking distance from campus. For your entire walk over, you kept your head down so as to not receive looks from others. The headache from your cries and a blush of anger still lingered with you. Hopefully you’ll look somewhat normal by the time you reach the bar.

Checking your reflection once more in your phone camera, you fixed your hair a bit before going inside.

The bar was filled.

With students from both your dance class and the third year class, there was not an empty corner in sight. The music was loud, but the sounds of chatter coming from the students were louder. The place was dark, with the only source of light coming from very dim, bright blue LEDs.

It was surprising to see everybody in a different setting. You were used to the sight of your classmates being only in sweats and workout clothes, but now that they actually had time to get ready, everybody seemed like a completely different person.

You saw a few of your classmates wave at you, beckoning you over to where they were sitting. As soon as your butt landed on the chair, they spared no time to push a shot glass filled with clear liquor in front of you. You gladly took the drink, wanting to just let go and forget about everything that happened today. Holding back a cough, you scrunched your face as you felt the alcohol burn in your throat. It had been so long since the last time you drank.

After five you stopped counting. Partly because you knew you were going to drink more, but mostly because your head couldn’t even count to five anymore. Scrunching your eyes, you tried to focus on the blurry figure of your classmate complaining about her professor. Bored out of your mind as her mindless babble went on forever, your eyes started roaming around the bar. As your eyes wandered, you noticed somebody behind your classmate staring at you.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Even in your inebriated state of mind, you knew that it was Hyunjin. What other university student had the balls to bleach their whole head blonde? Your eyes met, and he ran a hand through his golden locks. Why do the most beautiful people harbour the most wretched personalities?

You tried to ignore his staring by focusing your attention back on your classmate, but eventually, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. He was still looking at you.

You saw a girl come up to him. She was the same girl that showed up with him on your first ever practice session. Because of the dimly lit bar and your drunken vision impairment, you had to really squint to make out what was going on. The girl, all smiley and giggly, put her hand on his shoulder, making Hyunjin break his eye contact with you. He smiled at the girl, mouthing words that were drowned out by the music. For some reason, this made you furious. Why was he so nice to everybody else but you? What had you ever done to him to make him hate you so much?

You kept your eyes on the girl, knowing full well that you shouldn’t have. You hated that — even on your night off, even when you had just broken up with your boyfriend — Hyunjin was still in your mind like an unkillable parasite. You hated the way he tucked his hair behind his ears. You hated how the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled at her. You hated him.

You watched as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear, causing him to laugh. That was the last straw. In a drunken haze, you took your phone and bolted out the door, ignoring the concerns of all your classmates. Maybe it had been a mistake breaking up with Jisung. Maybe he really did know what was best for you.

Stumbling out onto the street, you tried to dial Jisung’s phone number. It proved to be too difficult of a task, however, as your drunken fingers could only tap on random numbers on the screen. You cried out of frustration.

“Y/n.”

The voice coming from behind you startled you, causing you to lose your grip on the phone. It dropped on the cement with a loud crack. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bent down to pick up your phone. There was a huge crack right down the middle of the screen.

“You cracked my phone,” you said, trying to keep your composure.

“So? It’s not like it’s worth much anyways. Just ask your boyfriend to buy you one.” Hyunjin’s evil eyes squinted down at you.

“Why are you still on about this? Hyunjin, I’ve never used anybody for money and I never will!” You couldn’t control the tears flowing down your face. “Plus, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I broke up with Jisung today.”

You didn’t know why you were spilling your guts to the last man in the world you would trust. Surely, it was the alcohol.

“Y/n.” His tone had completely changed. He almost looked — concerned?

“Whatever, Hyunjin,” you slurred. “Just leave me alone. You can go back to that girl and have your fun with her.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t care.”

“Y/n, why do you care?” His tone got louder.

“I don’t!” you yelled at him. Your tears made everything even more blurry.

“Y/n! Tell me, why do you care?!” He spat back at you with just as much fury.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. News flash, not everything in the world revolves around you and your rich and prestigious life. Maybe you wouldn’t be so toxic if you would just understand that.” You screamed at him through your sobs. “Also, I don’t know where you got this stupid story of my being a cash whore from, but I will say this one last time: I have worked for everything in my life and I have never and will never use anybody for their money.”

Hyunjin looked back at you, shocked. You stared back at him in disgust. Not wanting to waste anymore time on him, you stumbled down the street to look for a taxi. However, as you wobbled down the pavement, everything became even blurrier than before. You felt nauseous. You couldn’t control it anymore.

You threw up. All over the sidewalk. You couldn’t stop. Every time you thought that it was over, more and more came out. Your throat burned, and it wasn’t just the alcohol.

As you hurled out all the remains of today’s lunch, your hair was held back.

“Get away from me, Hyunjin,” you groaned. You didn’t want him to see you this weak.

“Who else is gonna take care of your drunk ass, idiot,” he mumbled.

That was the last thing you heard before everything went black.

-

It was a blinding white light that woke you up. You groaned, trying to block the light with your forearm. Cracking your neck, you tried to holster yourself up.

You were on a leather couch. Squinting, you surveyed the room you were in. It was clean, spacious. The floor was a white marble — there wasn’t a single speck of dust to be seen. Across from you was an incredibly wide TV with many game consoles scattered around it. You looked behind you. There was a large kitchen island illuminated by warm pendant lights. Sitting at the island, on his laptop, was Hyunjin.

“Wh-what happened to me?”

“You’re the worst fucking drinker I’ve ever seen, that’s what happened.”

You rolled your eyes.

Hyunjin ignored you, standing up and leaving for another room. Less than a minute later, he reappeared with a toothbrush and a roll of toothpaste.

“Go clean up. You look disgusting.”

You snatched the toothbrush from his hands. He pointed over to the bathroom and you trudged your way over. His bathroom was huge, almost bigger than your bedroom at home. You felt as if you were in a hotel.

“Your bathroom is huge.” After washing up, you felt not only cleaner, but more awake. “You’re really living the life with your family’s money, huh.”

Hyunjin sighed, slamming his laptop shut causing you to flinch. “Why, after everything, do you think I’m this rich, pretentious fuck?”

You rolled your eyes. Not this again. “Well, why do you still think I’m this money hungry monster?”

“You really wanna know why, Y/n? It’s because Jisung told me so. He was the one who told me that all those years ago.”

You were shocked. Jisung was the one who told him that? Your ex-boyfriend that you had loved and dated for almost three years? You didn’t want to believe it, you really didn’t, but there was this tiny whisper in the back of your mind telling you that it was true. He had a reason to — Jisung was always going on about how Hyunjin always took from him.

“But Y/n, I-” He stopped mid-sentence.

“You what, Hyunjin?”

He pressed his lips to yours, caressing the back of your head. You were shocked, but almost autonomously, your lips parted feeling the heat of his breath against yours. He pressed his body to yours, running his hand down your waist. His lips, the same lips responsible for his perfect smile, felt so soft against your own. You heard the thuds of his heartbeat as he held you closer.

You broke apart, gasping for breath. The realization of what you had done just hit you.

In a panic, you used your whole strength to push his body away from you. “I-I have to go.”

“Y/n, wait!” Hyunjin called.

You paid him no attention. Instead, you ran across the marble floors, hoisted the front door open, and sprinted out. Hoping that Hyunjin wasn’t following you, found your way outside and took a taxi home.

You sat in silence, trying to process what had just happened. You had just kissed Hyunjin. You had just kissed Hyunjin. Hands shaking, you grasped at the ends of your hair, trying to calm yourself down. Did that just happen?

You were more mad at yourself than at him. How could you have just kissed Hyunjin? You hated him. He was nothing but rude to you, never smiling and always accusing you of things that were clearly lies. He made you feel self conscious, nervous, and everything in between. You hated him.

But he was so sweet on that fateful day in high school. He gave you a new pair of shoes when you had slipped during practice, and he held your hair for you when you were drunk. His hair glistened in the sunlight, his smile made your heart race, and his lips ignited sparks of every colour in the rainbow in your chest.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated how fast you became infatuated with him on that day in high school, and no matter how much you tried to deny it, you hated that your feelings haven’t changed ever since. You hated Hwang Hyunjin. You hated that you loved him.

Curling up in your bed, there was no stopping the tears flowing down your face. You cried and cried upon this realization, and you remained this way for the rest of the day. The effect Hyunjin had on you was bigger than you ever expected, and you hated it.

-

At school, you tried to avoid as many people as possible. The kiss you had shared with Hyunjin was plaguing your mind, distracting you and igniting the fire that was your inner turmoil. Even the thought of Hyunjin put a strain in your heart. It was the way his breath fanned over your nose, gently tickling it like a bird’s feather and the soft silk of his blonde locks brushing up against your cheeks.

You shook your head, trying to erase any and every thought of that man. Walking to your locker, you were stopped in your tracks, the dam in your eyes starting to crack. You couldn’t do this today. You turned around to go somewhere else — anywhere else.

“Y/n, wait.”

You sniffed, wiped stray tears from your eyes, and picked up your pace.

“Y/n.” He grabbed your shoulder, turning you around to face him.

“Hyunjin, please, I can’t do this today.”

“Are you… Are you crying?” He touched your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Y/n, why are you crying?”

You shook your head. You were scared of what would happen if you opened your stupid mouth.

“Y/n, please.” Hyunjin begged. His voice was shaking. “Tell me why.”

You shook your head again.

“Y/n, please.” His voice cracked.

“Hyunjin,” you paused, taking a shaky breath, “it’s because I love you. I’ve loved you ever since the first moment you smiled at my pathetic ass. Even when you hurt me more than anyone has hurt me before… I never had a choice, Hyunjin. It’s always been you.”

You tore yourself away from Hyunjin, embarrassed to your core. That was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever done, but at least you had closure now.

“Y/n…”

“No, Hyunjin. You’ve torn me down and humiliated me enough already. What more could you possibly want?” You demanded, aware that everybody around you was staring.

“Y/n,” Hyunjin rasped, “It’s only ever been you. I’ve spent the last three years miserable knowing that you were with someone else. I’ve-I’ve never even been with another girl in the past three years. I know you have no reason to believe me because I was such an ass. I am such an ass. Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for projecting my insecurities on you, I’m sorry for accusing you of things I know you’ve never done, and I’m sorry for anything else I might have fucking done. Y/n, I love you. Please, I don’t fucking deserve it, but is there any way you could forgive me?”

You stared at Hyunjin’s bloodshot eyes, tears freely flowing down your cheeks, and before you could even think, you found yourself pressed against his lips. Your eyes closed, savouring the feeling of his soft lips touching your own. His wet cheek pressed against your own, and with a nudge of the nose, Hyunjin deepend the kiss with a raw passion in which you’ve never felt before.

You cradled his head, relishing in his silken blonde hair as you brushed your fingers through his locks. He sighed in response, his breath tickling against your cheek. You were fully aware that everyone on campus had seen both your messy confessions of love, but you didn’t care. All you could do was replay the moment that Hyunjin had said those words — those three tiny words — over and over in your head as you ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his soft, honey lips.

[army-author]

jungkook scenario | the alchemy of amor

❝ jungkook is the arrogant son of the duke. you’re a humble alchemist just trying to make a living. unfortunately for you, jungkook seems to have taken a strange interest in you. when a dangerous wager involving a love potion spirals out of control, you find yourself flung into the deep end of emotion, and it becomes difficult to decipher genuine attraction from magical aftereffect... ❞

➝ prompt: i’m a witch who’s been experimenting with love-potion formulas, but there’s been a bit of a mix-up, and now the love-potion has somehow ended up in your hands, and you’re drinking it, and - no, please stop!

➝ pairing: jungkook x female reader

➝ genre: fluff, fantasy au, enemies to lovers

➝ requested by anon | 15.5k words

➝ warnings: profanity, mild injury, implied smut, some characters express misogynist sentiments

➝ author’s note: i hope you enjoy it! i had a lot of fun writing it. as you can see from the word count, i got a bit carried away. i can’t help it, i love enemies to lovers!

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

You are not wont to pray, but in circumstances such as this, with your life unravelling before you in tattered ribbons, your mind recalls the goddess you so often forget. Watching in horror, your supplications come thick and fast, as Jeon Jungkook downs the phial of rose-gold potion, and with it, swallows the hours of work you had invested into those shimmering contents.

Normally, you would not be so perturbed by the wasting of a potion, even one as rare as Impetus Amor. Ingredients can always be re-bought, potions can always be re-brewed. But something about Jungkook’s cocky expression as he sets down the vial, and raises a brow at you, overwhelms you with the heat of irrational fury.

“Mighty goddess above, what is wrong with you?” you spit venom more potent than your potions. “You know very well how long that took to brew!”

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough.” He smacks his lips together, “Looks like the potion doesn’t work anyway. And on top of that, it tastes bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

How does he know what dried roses and soap taste like?

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you retort through gritted teeth.

You know that the potion does work. After all the work you invested - collecting rose-petals, gold shavings, and pegasus feathers, all to be brewed on a blue moon, and then carefully distilled – there was no way that the batch of Impetus Amor was unsuccessful. But every alchemist worth their gold knows that the finicky love potion takes a few minutes to take effect after ingestion.

Which means that in a few minutes Jeon Jungkook, the man you hate most, will involuntarily fall in love with you.

How could I let this happen? You cast your mind over the unfortunate events that had led you to this low point, while you stifle a scream.

✽ ✽ ✽

[Several days ago]

It starts when one of your customers steps into your potions shop, in the town of Sientha, with a peculiar order.

She wears a red hood that covers most of her face, and clutches a purse tightly in her gloved hand. Glancing furtively around the shop, she walks over to your counter, and slips a note between the demijohns and ampuls that crowd the area where you work.

Upon unfolding her note, your eyes widen. The note reads: ‘One vial of Impetus Amor’. You focus your eyes on the client, who keeps her head down. You can just make out shapely lips and a dainty chin below the lowered hood.

“I know it’s a difficult potion to make,” she says in a hushed tone, “But I’m willing to pay whatever you need for it.”

You study her intently. Below the cloak, you can see an expensive dress, and jewellery sparkling at her neck. It’s clear that she has the means to pay. In most circumstances, you would object to the use of Impetus Amor, but it is not your responsibility to tell your customers how to use your potions. You simply get on with brewing, and ask no questions. That’s how you make a living. This case wouldn’t be any different.

“Okay,” you say, “I must warn you that it will take quite a while to make, and most of the ingredients are quite rare, so the wait may be long.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

You nod, leaning against the counter, as you tally up how much the potion will cost in ingredients and labour. When you finally name your price, the woman is silent for a moment, contemplating, before she nods, and rummages in her purse. She takes out a small brown sack, heavy with coin, which she places in front of you. Counting up the money, you nod in satisfaction. “You’re in luck. There’s a blue moon soon, and the potion should be ready not long after. Roughly five weeks,” you advise, “Come by to collect it when you’re able.”

Satisfied, the woman leaves the shop, while you gape at the sack of coins on your counter top. You hadn’t had that much money to your name in a long time.

Impetus Amor – the potion is infamously difficult to create, but you’re ready for a challenge. Spinning around to the shelf of tomes behind you, you scour the tittles until you find the one you need. You pull the tome down from its shelf, holding your breath as a fog of dust descents around you. So it begins.

✽ ✽ ✽

The first mistake you make is accepting the request from the mysterious woman who came into your shop.

Your second mistake is letting Jungkook into your shop. Or letting Jungkook anywhere near you at all.

Jungkook is the only son of the duke of Braewyth, the duchy you reside in - a hobbyist alchemist and your tormentor in his spare time. When he had first barged into your potion shop, and declared that he wanted to learn the art of alchemy, you were led to the conclusion that he was a pretentious prick. This suspicion proved to be correct, as after a few lessons from you – out of the goodness of your heart, and the impossibility of saying ‘No’ to the heir of the duchy – Jungkook believed himself to be better than you with your fifteen years of experience. He was now convinced that the two of you were rivals, and you were convinced that he was a pain in the arse.

As you work on crushing down dried rose petals for your new project, Jungkook barges into your shop once more. He doesn’t seem to know of any other way to make an entrance into your tiny business. He leans over the counter, his eyes burning on your skin as you work.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Preparing ingredients for Impetus Amor.”

His nose wrinkles as he leans back on the counter, crossing his arms over his overcoat, embroidered with the emblem of the duchy, a snow white stag on a blue shield. “Ah, the potion of love,” he muses, “I’ve heard that one’s incredibly difficult to make.”

“I know,” you grimace, as you continue to grind rose petals to a fine red dust in your stone mortar. “What of it, Mr. Jeon?”

The duke’s son gives an impartial shrug. “I’m merely stating that it’s a laborious potion to perfect. I’m surprised you’re attempting it.”

You bite down on your cheek to stop yourself from speaking indecently to Braewyth’s heir. “My customers respect me, and know that I’ll carry out any requests with the utmost care,” you cut back with thinly veiled anger.

Jungkook leans back lazily, his elbow brushing dangerously close to a decanter filled with Verum Serum, a silver truth potion you’ve been working on. “Well then, my little apothecary, why don’t we make a wager?”

You raise an eyebrow, setting down your mortar, and waiting for him to continue.

“I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to finish the potion,” Jungkook says, “In fact, if you finish it, and it works, I’ll pay you in gold.” He grins.

“And if I can’t?” you enquire. It’s an unlikely option, but you need to know what you are dealing with. You find it difficult to refuse the offer of money, especially if it’s a loss for Jungkook, but you’re wary of the consequences on the (very low) chance that you are unsuccessful.

“Don’t worry,” Jungkook raises a hand, “I know you can’t pay much gold.” Your cheeks heat up. “But if you lose, then I demand a kiss from you.”

Biting down a retort, you take a deep breath, and remind yourself that it is unacceptable to call the son of the duke a ‘Bastard’, no matter how much you want to. Instead, with your fists balling, you reply, “Very well, Mr. Jeon. But please be prepared to lose.”

His eyes glitter under your gaze, “Okay.”

You know that there is no way you can lose. Still, the very thought of admitting defeat and letting him kiss you has your blood boiling as it churns through your heart. You ought to show more respect to the son of the duke - to most a kiss from him would be an honour - but your find respect hard to muster when he does nothing but flirt with the ladies about the town of Sientha, strutting arrogantly down the streets with a different girl handing off his arm each night.

It’s Jungkook’s loss for certain. You’ll make sure of that.

✽ ✽ ✽

Despite your confidence, Jungkook does everything he can to get in your way.

The next morning you raise yourself early from your bed to head into the mountains in search of pegasus feathers. Jungkook catches you on your walk between your shop and the stables, with your satchel slung across your back, and a grenadine-coloured cloak covering your riding boots and trousers. He saunters across the cobbled street to greet you. “Look at you. Out and about. It’s not often I see you step out of the comforts of your shop.”

“Perhaps if you were up earlier, it wouldn’t be such an irregular occurrence for you,” you chide, as you make for the bridge to the east, leading out of Sientha, “I often go out in the morning to track down ingredients.”

“My apologies that I don’t know your schedule by heart, little alchemist,” Jungkook ripostes, keeping pace with you, short steps for his longer legs, “I’ll have you know that I have many duties that keep me in the Braewyth manor until later in the day.”

Uninterested, you reach the stables where your ebony mare waits, whickering in recognition when you reach her stall. You begin saddling up, annoyed by the presence of Jungkook behind you, which you try to ignore – but like a fly buzzing around an empty room, it gets too irritating too quickly. “Are you planning on following me around all day like a cur in heat?” you ask, and Jungkook smirks, clearly amused to have scratched at some deep seated vexation inside you.

“That’s no way to talk to me, little alchemist,” he reminds you, waggling a taunting finger.

You sigh, adjusting the bridle on your mare. “Please excuse me, my good sir,” you lace your voice with sarcasm, “It wan’t my intention to offend. I was simply surprised to see someone like you showing an interest in my humble activities.” You offer him a sickly sweet smile, before hoisting yourself up into your saddle.

Ignoring your mockery, Jungkook looks up at you from under your dark lashes, “Well, where are you headed today?”

You bite down on your instinctual reply, thinking better of telling him it’s none of his business. “I’m going to the mouth of the River Waye. It’s rumoured that a pegasus has nested there, and I need its feathers.”

“For the Impetus Amor?” Jungkook’s eyes gleam.

You bow your head in a nod.

“Excellent. I’d love to come with you,” Jungkook sates, “I’ve never seen a real pegasus.”

As you open your mouth, ready to deny him, he interrupts, “You offered to tutor me on alchemy after all. Ingredient collection is a vital part of the hobby.”

I never offered to tutor you, you simply thrust your cumbersome presence upon me. Before you can say any of this out loud, Jungkook is calling for one of the stable hands to saddle up one of their horses. “Mr. Jeon, need I remind you that this hobby is a source of income for some,” you’re left to respond, somewhat hopelessly, as Jungkook stares up at you in your saddle.

Your mare shifts restless, unsure why she’s still cooped in her stable.

“If it’s such a burden to earn a livelihood, then I’m sure you could find some kind husband who’d be more than happy to take care of you,” Jungkook responds, “With looks like yours, you’d never have to work another day in your life.”

Your blood boils in frustration. You bite down on your lip, watching in cold silence as the stable hand brings a chestnut stallion over to Jungkook, handing him the reins. Your horse senses your unease, and with a prick of your heels in her side, she’s all too happy to trot out of the stable and into the harsh sunshine of the winter morning.

Jungkook follows behind, his stallion’s horseshoes clacking on the cobblestones.

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Jeon,” you say, controlling your tone as best you can, “I’m perfectly content making a living for myself, and am in no need of a husband.”

“And what of it?” Jungkook spurs on his horse, overtaking you as you reach the bridge out of Sientha, where the town guards immediately part, recognising the duchy crest on Jungkook’s overcoat.

As you follow over the bridge, Jungkook casts a look over his shoulder at you, “You wish to spend your whole life brewing potions, and die an old maid?”

“I know of worse fates,” you say, “I would rather live as a lowly alchemist than the chattel of some rich cretin such as yourself.”

Jungkook falls into silence, face frosty, and you wonder if your pushed things too far.

As you continue down the road, the quality of the surface worsens, with more potholes appearing the further you travel from Sientha. Fallen mute, you and Jungkook pass fields, appearing empty after the harvests of autumn.

It’s a long way to the mouth of the River Waye, which lies in the valley between two mountains, Mount Cantre and Ayn Blanch. The two peaks rise above you in the distance. As you branch off the main road onto a dirt track, you allow your mare to break into a gallop, and Jungkook urges his horse on to keep up with yours. You cast a glance over to him as he keeps stride beside you, his jaw set and his brows furrowed over dark eyes. With your gaze fixed, you almost miss the shouting, until the ruckus is directly behind you. Snapping your neck around, you see a group of Braewyth soldiers approaching on horseback. You pull on your mare’s reigns, attempting to bring her to a halt, but the soldiers are already upon you, passing by on the narrow track. Your skittish mare rears as the soldiers rush past, and you find your view turned upside down. Thrown from the saddle, you land on your rear in a soft pile of moss. You’re lucky to have nothing but your pride bruised.

Jungkook brings his horse to a halt next to you, and leaps down from his saddle, catching your spooked mare’s reigns, before she makes to bolt. Soothing the black horse with hushed murmurs, Jungkook leads her to a nearby tree, where he ties the reigns to a low hanging branch. “Are you alright?” he turns his attention back to you.

You wince, and take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Yes, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.”

“Good.” His voice is gruff, “Those bloody soldiers. I wonder if they realise who they just overtook. I’ve a mind to report them to my father.”

“Don’t bother,” you dust down your cape, “Everyone knows the Braewyth soldiers are bloated with pride after the last success in war.”

Jungkook snorts. “That war was three years ago. Their only responsibility now is to protect the people of the duchy, and they can’t even do that!” He heaves a sigh, eyes cast to the sky, where the harsh sun shines down from an empty winter sky. “No matter, we’re wasting time here. If you’re sure you’re alright, then we should crack on.”

You walk over to untie your mare, who has now calmed down and is happily grazing on some grass by the side of the road. Hoisting yourself into your saddle, you edge her on with a soft nudge of your heels. Ahead of you, Jungkook has already mounted his ride, patting the neck of his stallion. You’re almost in a mind to apologise to Jungkook for calling him a “cretin” earlier, but you bite back the words, pride getting in the way.

You continue the journey in silence. The path is long, and as your altitude increases, the temperature plummets. Shivering, you pull your cloak closer around you. Your mare huffs out puffs of warm breath as she trots down the winding track, weaving between the smaller hills that spread towards the Braewyth mountains. Further ahead, Jungkook is hunched down in his saddle, looking cold, but staying stubbornly silent.

At last, you come to the edge of the valley, and begin to follow the track next to the shallow section of the River Waye. The banks are padded with moss, and you spot the sleek shining bodies of carp flickering in the crystalline water.

Slowing your mare, you slip off your mount, and tie her to a barren tree at the edge of the water. Ahead of you, Jungkook, having noticed you have stopped, dismounts as well. “Are we there?” he asks.

You nod, putting a finger to your lips. With a hushed voice, you respond: “Nearly. But we need to proceed on foot. Pegasus are incredibly skittish. We’ll be quieter without the horses.”

Passing Jungkook, you follow the winding path next to the Waye, stepping on the spongy moss to silence your footsteps. The two mountains rise up on either side of you – on the left, Ayn Blanche, its peak capped with snow, and on the right, Mount Cantre, sitting squat in Ayn Blanche’s shadow. The valley in between is adorned with scree; clumps of heather dot the otherwise drab landscape.

You slow to a stop when your sharp eyes catch sight of what you were hoping for – hoof prints and loose white hairs caught on a bramble. Leaning down, you pick up a strand of hair, running your fingers over it. Course and thick, there’s no denying it. The hair from a pegasus’ mane.

“There’s a pegasus somewhere around here,” you inform Jungkook in a hushed tone, pointing out the hoof prints to him.

Staying silent, oddly obedient, Jungkook nods, eyes scanning the area.

Carefully, you make your way along the trail of hoof prints. Ahead of you, you spot an opening on the steep flank of Ayn Blanche, a few meters from the base. It appears to be the perfect spot for a pegasus nest, tucked away from the wind that normally sweeps through the valley. Walking to the base, you search for a good foothold, and begin to hoist yourself up the craggy slope to the opening.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Jungkook breaks his unofficial vow of silence.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you huff, “I’m getting up to the pegasus’ nest.”

“Isn’t that dangerous work for… well...” Jungkook trails off. Probably for the best.

“I’ve climbed my fair share of rock faces,” you assure him, “Alchemy isn’t just about sitting daintily at a table stirring tiny beakers and keeping one’s hands soft and free of callouses.”

“But won’t the pegasus be angered if you enter its nest?” Jungkook worries from below.

As you stretch to reach for a rock that juts out above you, you grunt, “You know, Mr. Jeon, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were concerned for my wellbeing.”

You’re disappointed that you cannot look down to see the pout that is so evident in his voice as he retorts, “Well it wouldn’t look good if I were to go out with a young maiden, and return back with her maimed. People might talk.”

“People will always talk, regardless,” you say, pulling yourself up to the ledge at the front of the opening. “Don’t fear, Pegasus are only aggressive to those they deem to have a wicked soul. Which means I’ll be fine. But you might need to watch out.”

Before Jungkook can shoot back a reply, you turn your attention to the opening that houses the nest. The space is large, big enough for a pegasus. Peering in, you see that the nest is empty of any life, but the small cave is filled with exactly what you need – feathers caught on the rocky outcroppings. Pulling out a bottle from your satchel, you scoop up a few feathers, and preserved them in your glass. The feathers sparkle slightly in the sunshine that throws slanted rays into the cave. Satisfied with your find, you get ready to climb back down.

Just then, you hear a shout, and peer down to see Jungkook waving his hands at you from the bottom of the steep rock face. He gesticulates wildly, pointing downstream. You look in that direction, a spot the white shape of a pegasus, just before it plummets down with a splash into the Waye.

Quickly, you scramble down the rocks, and sprint to the river, where you see the water running red. An arrow is sticking from the flank of the pegasus, which raises its head above the water, straining to get up, before it flops down again. Horrified, you scan the area, trying to figure out where the arrow was fired from. It doesn’t take you long. Two poachers approach, a net swinging from their hands.

“Oi, get away from that creature,” one of them shouts upon spotting you.

“What are you going to do with it?” you ask, moving your body to block the pegasus.

“We’re going to make a fortune peddling off it’s body parts to alchemists,” the shorter of the two informs you, “Those occultists pay a hefty price for hair and feathers you know, not to mention a fresh heart, or a vial of blood.”

You grit your teeth, standing up straighter, “It’s a negative stereotype that alchemists use blood and hearts in their potions. And the hair and feathers are only useful if they’ve come from a living creature. You’re wasting your time if you think you’ll make money killing and harvesting this animal.”

The taller one laughs – an ugly sound that sends a shudder through you. “And what would you know about alchemy, wench? If I have questions about my cooking, or my laundry I’ll come to you.  So how about you keep your mouth shut on things you know nothing about?”

Stifling your rage, your bite back, “I’m not letting you near this creature. Not one step further.”

“Oh, well, aren’t you just a darling bloody saint. Protecting the innocent fauna of the land. I don’t remember asking for a sermon on the morality of killing dumb animals.” Your eye catches the movement of the taller man’s hand to the hilt of his sword. “Now, I would suggest you get out of the way, before I make you get out of the way.”

You size the two men up, and swallow. You have a small dagger on your hip, usually used for cutting plant shoots. Not much use against two swords. Still, you bring your hand to your hip in anticipation, unwilling to back down.

“I order you to stop!”

You glance towards the source of the voice. Jungkook is standing behind you with his rapier raised, his stance indicating years of training in fencing. With two calculated blows he could puncture the stomachs of both poachers. The two men blanche.

Nonetheless, the shorter of the two poachers blusters on, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you two gentlemen that pegasus are considered an endangered species, and it’s a criminal offence to poach them, punishable by a good flogging in Sientha square.”

The shorter poacher swallows, his hand wavering.

The taller of the two is only all the more incited. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not a king. Not even a prince. Just some lesser noble with a silver spoon shoved up your arse. What are you going to do, report me? We’re out in the middle of fuck-knows where, and you’re outnumbered, two to one.” He raises his sword.

“Actually, it’s two against two,” you correct him, unsheathing your dagger.

“Well that seems fair then, doesn’t it,” Jungkook purrs, “Fine, I suppose I’ll just have to punish you myself, seeing as we’re in the middle of “fuck-knows where”, as you so eloquently put it.”

The shorter of the two gulps audibly, and then turns tail and begins running in the opposite direction, slipping over the mossy rocks by the Waye’s bank.

A wiser man would have retreated, but it appears that the taller poacher is somewhat lacking in cognitive ability. With a roar, he lunges at Jungkook, who easily pirouettes out of reach, leaving the lanky man to swipe at thin air. Growling, the man rights himself, and launches at Jungkook, but the duke’s son easily parries the blow with his blade, a metallic clang echoing in the valley. The poacher stumbles back, grimacing. Seeing that he has underestimated the “lesser noble”, the poacher makes a grab for you instead.

You attempt to duck out of the way, but slip on the wet rocks, and feel a clammy hand grab around your wrist, pulling you into the hard body of the poacher. Up close, he smells of onions and beer. You struggle against him, but upon feeling cold steel at your throat, you freeze.

“Not another move,” the poacher growls, “Or this wench gets it.”

You glance at Jungkook, who stands poised, with rapier raised. An expression of fear flashes across his face, like a fleeting cloud on a sunny day, passing so fast, you could convince yourself you imagined it.

The poacher’s plot could have worked out for him, had he not underestimated your strength.

As he leers at Jungkook, you grasp at the advantage of surprise. With a sudden twist, like a striking viper, your hand – still holding the dagger - snaps up, and strikes the man on the side of the head with the hard wooden hilt. The man crumples with a screech.

You leap away. At the exact same instant, Jungkook jumps forward. You turn to see the son of the duke standing over the poacher, his rapier raised to the tall man’s stubbly throat. The poacher whimpers, with one hand clutching his face where you struck him. A trickle of blood trails down the wrinkles of his face.

“Now listen carefully,” Jungkook says, his voice low and dangerous, “I could kill you right here. But I’m choosing to spare you. I would suggest you get off your sorry arse, get up, and run away. Take your possessions, your wife and children – if you have any – and flee this duchy. Because know that you are a wanted man while you remain in the borders of Braewyth. I know your face, and soon ever guard in our troops will know it too. The punishment for poaching endangered creatures is flogging. The punishment for an attempt on the heir of the duchy’s life is the gallows. There will not be mercy the second time. Do I make myself clear?”

The man nods, slowly and carefully, his throat strained below the point of Jungkook’s rapier.

Jungkook lifts the blade. “Go.”

The poacher does not need any more prodding. Scrambling to his feet, he flees, glancing behind him every so often, as if he is scared that Jungkook will change his mind and follow after him.

Jungkook breathes a sigh, sheathing his rapier. The sweat on his neck is the only indication that he was at all shaken by the encounter. Your return your dagger to the holster on your hip, and turn your attention to the pegasus which still lies in the shallow portion of the river, breathing heavily. You carefully walk over, and inspect the damage.

There’s one arrow lodged in its side, but from the other gashes on its white coat, it appears that several other arrows hit, but subsequently fell out, leaving the creature to bleed from multiple open wounds. The pegasus lets out a distressed whinny as you approach, and makes an attempt to get up. Its legs shake, and it collapses back with a splash, too weak to run away. It has already lost a lot of blood.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I’m not going to hurt you.” You know the creature can’t understand you, but you hope your tone is at least soothing. The pegasus thrashes in the shallow water, but realising it is too weak to move, it resolves itself to its fate, and lays its head down.

You crouch next to it, ignoring the cold water that soaks into your boots and riding trousers. Carefully, you pull a bottle from your satchel, and uncork it. You are thankful that you often carry first aid potions around. Wafting the bottle under the pegasus’ nose, you watch as it inhales the scent of your soothing potion and relaxes. With the creature sedated, you pull the arrow from the skin, and apply pressure to staunch the flow of blood that follows. Hunting in your satchel, you pull out a second potion, filled with healing balm. Pouring the thick green liquid onto your palms, you begin massaging it onto the pegasus’ open wounds. The smell of lavender and sage emanates from the balm, covering up the bitter metallic smell of blood.

Straightening up, you back away from the pegasus. The creature tentatively stands up, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Strengthened and emboldened, the pegasus canters forward with a whicker, its large wings ruffling as it takes flight.

“What did you give it?” Jungkook asks, watching the pegasus soar towards its nest.

“A simple Salutare Decoction,” you tell him, “Made to soothe and heal wounds, and-”

“And restore vitality. Yes, I know the one,” Jungkook interrupts, “I’ve never seen it used in practice.”

You flash him a cocky smile. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re impressed by my talents, Mr. Jeon.”

The heir of the duchy grimaces, “I’ll be impressed if you can actually make the Impetus Amor.”

“Oh, you of little faith. Are you allergic to admiring anyone who isn’t yourself?”

“Don’t get too arrogant, little alchemist.” Jungkook tramps back to his horse, his back a silhouette of irritation with shoulders hunched and head lowered. “Don’t forget who saved you from those poachers, you ungrateful wench.”

You snort,  walking back to your mare, “Some help you were when I had a blade held to my throat...”

“If you had been alone, you would have been slashed to ribbons,” Jungkook parries, hoisting himself into his saddle. With a dig of his heels, his stallion canters forward before you can get another word in.

By the time you’ve swung yourself into your saddle, Jungkook is far ahead, and you know there’s no way your mare can catch up with Jungkook’s brawny stallion.

Clucking at your ebony horse, you encourage her into a trot, muttering insults that Jungkook will never hear while you weave down the path back to Sientha.

✽ ✽ ✽

With the necessary ingredients, you’re finally able to start work on the Impetus Amor once you return to your shop. There’s no sign of Jungkook as you work throughout the rest of the day, and of that you are glad.

If you never see his cocky face again, it’ll be too soon for you. Yet, as you crush down thin sheets of gold into fine dust, his visage clouds your vision. Even as you watch the pegasus feathers steep in rose water, the shimmering sheen slowing leeching from the feather into the liquid, you cannot shake his sure smile and steadfast gaze from your clouded thoughts.

Dazed, you extract the feather from the liquid, leaving behind the opalescent rose water. The ingredients are ready. You simply have to wait. The next blue moon will be soon – a lucky coincidence.

Your luck is sure to run out eventually.

✽ ✽ ✽

On the night of the blue moon, once your shop is closed for the evening, you begin to prepare for the brewing of the potion. You start by getting your ingredients together, setting them up in a semicircle around your caldron. While you may have no control over your own life, you can easily command ingredients to do your bidding, controlling the brewing process and modifying as you go. The whole process is a soothing ritual for you.

At least it would be, if it weren’t for an irksome knocking coming from your door.

Sighing, you leave your ingredients by the caldron, and go to the door. You slide back the wooden latch, and outside you see -

“Jungkook?”

He stands, illuminated in a halo from the lanterns outside.

You wrinkle your nose. “What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet the heir of the duchy?”

Rolling your eyes, you open the door to him, “Mr. Jeon, what an honour to see you at the threshold of my humble shop. Please make yourself at home. Is that any better?”

“A little,” Jungkook steps inside your shop.

You’re already seething, and he hasn’t even been in your presence for more than a minute. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I needed your expertise on something,” Jungkook says, sauntering over to your counter, and leaning against it.

You snort. “I find it hard to believe you think anyone besides yourself has any expertise.”

“Your words sting, little alchemist,” his eyes drag across the supplies lined on the shelves of your shop, before finally coming to rest on you. “I came here for some advice. Yes, yes, take time to gloat if it makes you feel better.” He waves a dismissive hand.

The gloating wouldn’t feel so good with his dark eyes piercing yours. You swallow, and stay silent.

“I need a potion to help me stay awake,” Jungkook admits.

You raise your brows. “It’s not healthy to stay awake for long periods of time, Mr. Jeon.”

“Well of course. It’s a one-off, naturally,” he shrugs at your concerns, “I’m just a little tied up you see. I promised a lovely lady that I’d take her dancing this evening, but I also have a commitment to the duchy, and that means being in attendance at an early morning meeting tomorrow. I was quite hoping to spend some quality time with the lady tonight, if you understand my meaning.”

“Are you sure it’s not an aphrodisiac you’re after instead?” you quip.

Jungkook raises his brows in feigned surprise. “What do you take me for? Some kind of cad?”

“Are you not a cad?” You examine him skeptically, “I see you around town with a different lady each day. What conclusions am I supposed to draw?”

“Well, perhaps you’re not so wrong,” Jungkook grins, “Just don’t tell the ladies that.”

“Don’t worry. They’re all too posh to speak to me, let alone believe my accusations that Jeon Jungkook is a good for nothing bounder who only cares about the delicacies that hide beneath their petticoats and pantaloons.”

“Can you help with the potion or not?” Jungkook has grown bored of your jokes.

Stepping behind your counter, you begin to rummage around the shelves. “Luckily for you, Vigil Concoction only takes a few minutes to brew.” You grab a jar of rhodiola rosea, along with a fine iron powder, and the scales of a mermaid. Crushing the aquamarine scales to a fine dust, you mix the ingredients together with a drop of lime juice. Jungkook watches, fascinated, as you pour the ingredients into a clean caldron, and bring the concoction to a boil. The smell of brine mixed with lime cuts through the air.

Jungkook's eyes wander over to the ingredients set aside for the Impetus Amor. “I see you’re finally going to be brewing it tonight,” he nods at the ingredients.

“Yes, I was about to before you interrupted,” you say, stirring the Vigil Concoction.

“So if it’s brewed tonight, it should be ready in a few days, correct?”

You sigh, and affirm, “Correct.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll just have to wait until then to see if you were actually successful.”

You wince. You had been hoping that Jungkook would forget your wager. Instead of continuing that train of thought, you change the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, why not cancel your plans with this maiden, and attend the meeting. Any lady would be more than willing to change her plans for you.”

Jungkook sighs, “Actually, meeting with her was my father’s idea.”

You pause stirring the concoction to eye Jungkook with curiosity. “I didn’t take the duke to be the type to encourage copulation with fair damsels.”

“Wether I have sexual relations with the women does not matter,” Jungkook blushes, “My father is insistent that I find a wife.”

You splutter, and his dark eyes flash.

“Did I say something that amused you?”

“No, sorry,” you focus your attention on the potion, “It’s simply difficult to imagine you settling down with a woman.”

“What can I say. Most of the women I meet are a bore. Perfectly satisfactory in the bedroom, but useless outside of it. I struggle to hold a conversation with any of them. I need a lady with more substance if I am to wed her, not just bed her.”

“It must be such a chore being forced to spend time with all those beautiful women,” you tease, decanting the potion into a vial and corking it. Handing it across the counter to Jungkook, you warn, “Wait until it cools down before you consume it.” Your hand brushes against his as he takes the vial.

“Listen,” his voice is quieter, and despite yourself, you find you are trapped in his gaze, “I do not want you to think less of me for this conversation. When I find the right lady, I’ll settle down. I won’t be a cad. I..” he trails off, pocketing the vial. “I… well. Thank you for your help.”

You nod, unsure how to interpret his words. Taking on a professional tone, you say, “The concoction will work for about twelve hours, and will keep you alert and sleepless in that time. Once the twelve hours are up, you may find yourself dozing off quickly, so do be mindful of that.”

“Thank you.” With that, Jungkook leaves your shop. You stand in your empty store, thrown off by the unexpected distraction he caused.

Shaking your head from your hazy thoughts, you get back to the business of brewing Impetus Amor. You sit down in front of the cauldron, with enough ingredients to make several batches. You carefully measure each ingredient out, pouring them into the caldron’s black maw, while the light from the blue moon shines in through the shop window. You murmur a few words as smoke begins to rise from the caldron. The words come from an ancient civilisation, now long dead. The accent is strange and heavy on your tongue. It is the words that are the most demanding part. One wrong inflection, one stutter, and the potion’s strength will wane, or even fade completely. You’ve practiced each phrase thoroughly, just to be safe. As you stir, the liquid in the potion changes from pale translucent to an opaque pearlescent pink. A success. Working quickly, you pour the mixture into an alembic to distill.

Now all that’s left to do is wait.

✽ ✽ ✽

The days pass quicker than you expect, with nothing much to note, apart from the weekend, when a young lady wanders into your shop with a tear stained face, asking for a potion to mend a broken heart. You could have sworn you had seen the lady with her arm strung through Jungkook’s the previous day. You do not comment as you hand her a bottle of Cor Integro.

At last, the Impetus Amor is ready, and right on cue, so is Jungkook. He walks into the shop as you are bottling the love potion.

“Is that it?” His eyes flash over the contents of the glass bottle.

You nod.

“May I?” He holds out a hand, and you hesitate, before relinquishing the bottle to him.

And so concludes the list of bad decisions you made concerning Impetus Amor.

He holds it up to the light, inspecting intently. “Well, it certainly looks convincing. But I suppose we won’t actually know if it works unless we test it.”

The bad feeling forming in your stomach has arrived too late to warn you. Jungkook is already pulling out the cork, and downing the contents of the bottle.

This is how you end up with Jungkook, the one man you cannot stand, drinking your love potion. The first person he looks at will be the one he falls for. He’s looking at you.

Oh goddess above, please not this. Anything but this.

“Mighty gods above, what is wrong with you? You know very well how long that took to brew!” Your attempt to restrain your tone is unsuccessful. Anger pours freely from your words.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, “Tough. Looks like the potion doesn’t even work anyway. And on top of that, it tasted bad. Like dried roses and soap.”

“It wasn’t intended for you,” you remind him. “In one hour, it will begin to take effect, and you will be reduced to a fawning dolt, drooling over my every move.”

“That will only happen if the potion actually works. Which it may not.” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you, so sure of himself it makes you want to scream. “I cannot have you selling snake oil to the people of Braewyth.”

You are physically trembling with anger. “That potion is incredibly expensive. You’ll have to pay for it.”

“Fret not, you’ll get your money… if it works.” He swivels around, and is about to make for the door, but you dash in from of him, blocking off his means of escape. “I won’t allow you to leave,” you say, “You’ll make a complete fool of yourself if you’re free to roam the streets under the influence of a love potion.”

Jungkook blinks – innocent – and then laughs, “Come now. It won’t be that bad.”

“Yes. Yes, it will be that bad,” you insist, “I’m keeping you here until I can cure you. The last thing we want is for you to cause a scandal.”

Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobs, finally realising that you’re being serious. “What will the potion do to me?”

“You should have asked before you drank the potion.”

“Perhaps,” he concedes, “It might not work. We still don’t know.” His eyes are wide, like a deer that’s spotted a hunter with an arrow aimed at its heart. “What will it do?”

“It will make you fall in love with me,” you say, “Of course. On top of that, it will cause you great physical pain any time you are not close to me. It will make you desperate for physical contact.”

Jungkook swallows thickly. “Well… let’s… uh… hope you got it wrong then, hmm?”

You frown. “I’ve half a mind to throw you out into the street to make a complete fool of yourself, screaming your love for all bystanders to hear.”

“Surely you’ve got a cure,” Jungkook pleads.

You grit your teeth. “You can’t expect me to simply fix every problem with a magical potion, Mr. Jeon. Alchemy doesn’t always work like that.”

“I’m sorry!” Jungkook blurts, “There, I said it. I’m sorry! I know I’ve cocked up. And I know I take your abilities for granted. I underestimate you all the time. I’m sorry, alright? But you have had it out for me from the moment you met me. You hated me before you even knew me. I don’t know why, but I’m sorry for that too. Now can you please stop piling on the blame and help me?” He holds up his hands, plaintive, “Please. I can’t do this by myself.”

Your shoulders slump. You want to be angry. All you feel is pity.

“Aright, Jungkook,” you concede, “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” his voice is soft.

You set the sign on your shop door to ‘Closed’, and bolt it. Then, you move across to your shelf of books. You know that one of these tomes must contain an antidote for a love potion. It’s not something you’ve made before, and you cannot remember which volume it is in, but you know it must be there. You scan the indexes, the pile of rejected tomes towering taller as you search through each book for any help it may provide.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sits on a stool by the counter, fidgeting awkwardly. 

At last, in your copy of Payne and Nash’s Antidotes for Advanced Alchemy, you find a potion called Aphrodite’s Cure – an antidote for love potions and aphrodisiacs.

Your finger mechanically runs down the list, checking off each one.

Extract from a siren’s tongue

Sap from a cherry tree

Crushed topaz

You have all those items in your shop. If you believed in the goddess, you would be praising her now. Your finger stops, hovering over the brewing time, spelled out in black ink. Two hours.

“Well, Jungkook...” The duke’s son looks up at the sound of your voice. “I’ve found a cure I can brew, but it will take two hours.”

Jungkook’s hopeful expression falls. “Well, I suppose I can bear being in love with a pain in the arse like you for two hours. Even if you are… the most… the most... beautiful maiden I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leaps up from his stool.

Your heart pounds, animalistic instincts telling you to run far away.

Still you remain frozen to the spot, while Jungkook makes his way around the counter to grab at you, pulling you close. Your chest presses against his, while his hands grip your waist.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook murmurs, “Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

Your curse silently, caught in Jungkook’s ardent gaze. Your potion had worked wonders... unfortunately. “Does this drivel normally work on the maidens you woo?” you ask, pushing him away.

He winces as you part. “Please, my dear, it hurts when you force us apart.”

You remember the side effect of Impetus Amor embodies itself as physical pain when a couple is not  close to one another. Despite your disdain for Jungkook, you feel a pang of pity for him. “Okay,’ you say, “You may stay near my side. But you can’t get in my way while I work on an antidote for you.”

“But I don’t want to be cured,” Jungkook retorts, “I’m in love with you, and it feels wonderful. I never realised how good it would feel to experience true love. You truly wish to part me from this happiness?”

“Yes. You asked for this. Remember that.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My past self did not know what he was talking about. I wish to stay by your side, forever..”

“No matter what I do,” you say, “The effects will wear off in a week. I’m merely expediting the process to save you the embarrassment that will follow.”

Firmly, you move away from Jungkook, fetching a bottle of siren’s tongue extract from the top shelf behind your counter, before you dig out your crushed topaz and cherry tree sap from a cupboard. You sit down in front of your caldron and let Jungkook take a seat beside you. His hand comes to rest on your knee. You startle at his touch.

“You said I could stay close to you,” he says, “Sorry, is this too much?”

You shrug. “Do what you need to. Just don’t get in my way.” As you pour the potions into the caldron and begin stirring over a low flame, you try to ignore the heat in your body, shooting up from the spot on your leg where Jungkook’s palm rests. The ingredients begin to bubble in the caldron. You watch carefully, smelling the steam that rises, hoping to discern clues on the quality of the brew. When the scent of caramel begins to waft from the caldron, you remove it from the heat, and allow it to sit for a few minutes before you transfer it to a flask where if will sit for two hours, allowing the ingredients to cool and fully incorporate into Aphrodite’s Cure.

“Well, Jungkook, now we wait.”

He huffs, “I already told you, I don’t want to be cured.”

“Tough,” you tell him. “Eventually you will be, whether you like it or not. Then you’ll be on your own to deal with the shame that follows. I’m not helping you with that.”

He bristles. “I don’t find being in love with you shameful. Not at all. After all, you’re strong-willed, and intelligent, not to mention beautiful! You have more wit and personality than most other women I have wooed. If I were to be embarrassed at the idea of loving you, I ought to cringe at the idea of having bedded the other women.”

“Well, you shan’t be ‘bedding’ me,” you say, “You can’t get between my legs just by flashing me a favourable look.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “You wound me, my dear. You truly believe I only have carnal pleasures on my mind. Do not worry. I know you need respect and commitment before you would allow a man to  crawl between the sheets with you.”

You feel your cheeks burning with a blush. “Let me guess – you wish to be the man who will show me that respect and commitment, and will crawl between the sheets with me?”

“Listen,” Jungkook diverges from your pointed question, “I know I need time to prove myself to you. I haven’t shown you my best side while I’ve been around you. I can only ask that you forgive me, and let me show you how much better I can be.”

“I’m used to the way you treat me.” You move away from Jungkook, but he grabs onto you, hands desperate.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I just need to get on with work. You may have forced me to close my shop, but that doesn’t mean I can sit and twiddle my thumbs for two hours until you’re cured.”

“But I want to sit here with you,” Jungkook whines. The potion doesn’t seem to have just struck him down with love, but also to have turned him into a pouty brat with the attitude of a spoiled toddler.

Give me strength. “Let me guess,” you say, “You want to hold me, and kiss me? Am I right?”

Jungkook’s face turns red. “You shame me my dear, for it seems you have been reading my thoughts. Forgive me, but how can I help but dream of such things, when you are so comely.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Men under the influence of Impetus Amor are intolerable.

You catch a hold of his hand, which is grabbing your right wrist, and wrench him off you. “Jungkook, I am refusing you for your own good.”

“I do not believe that to be true,” Jungkook says as you pry yourself from him, and begin to scour your shelves for any bottles that appear to be running low. The duke’s son follows you around like a lovesick puppy while you pull out a piece of parchment and begin walking along the shelves taking note of vials and containers that are running empty, so you can get fresh ingredients at the next opportunity. Your hands need to be busy. You feel hapless otherwise.

“I truly believe,” Jungkook pipes up behind you, “That even when this potion wears off, I will still be in love with you. I believe that I have been in love with you for a while.”

You snort a laugh, “You truly do amuse me, Jungkook.”

“Is it so hard to believe I could fall for you?”

You spin around to face Jungkook. He is much closer than you anticipated. A gasp breaks your lips.

“Listen, little alchemist,” his eyes bore into yours, as you step back, your spine pressing against the shelf behind you, “I’ve been trying to fight these feelings, for I know my father would not approve of a woman who is not noble-born, yet I still find myself drawn to you. I wander aimlessly to your shop, just to catch a glimpse of you, just to feel the warmth of your company. And you would scoff at this?”

Your mouth goes dry, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. The words are difficult to get past your teeth. “You’re lying. It’s just the potion talking.”

“Why would I lie?” Jungkook’s eyes are troubled, “I’ve been falling slowly, ever since I met you. I tried to push off the feelings by treating you harshly. I tried to forget them in the arms of another lover. But still… I always find myself coming back to you.” He lifts a hand, fingers gentle against your cheek. You shiver at his touch. “It’s always you, little alchemist.”

Your lips curl in amusement. “You almost convinced me Jungkook. You speak so earnestly…” You take his hand in your own, pull it away from your face, and let it drop to his side.

His eyes cloud over. “Being unable to touch you, it hurts me physically, you know.”

“I know.” A shard of sympathy embeds in your chest. “It won’t last long though, I promise. I’ll cure you soon.”

“While we wait,” Jungkook’s eyes are dark, “Could you spare me one kiss? Just to ease the pain?”

“Jungkook,” your hand goes to his chest, rising up to rest on his shoulder, “The potion worked. You lost the wager. You were only to get a kiss if you won.”

“Please,” the word falls soft from his mouth.

You stand transfixed, stuck between your shelf of potions, and Jungkook’s body. His face is mere inches from your own. A dreadful curiosity sweeps over you, one that you know you should ignore. Yet, Jungkook is here before you, eyes urgent, and you are tired of fighting him.

“One kiss,” you murmur, “That’s all I’ll allow.”

His hands find purchase on your waist as he moves closer. Your eyelids flutter shut as his breath fans your cheeks, smelling of rose and gold dust. His lips are warm as they settle on your own, mapping out your mouth. You fall captive to the sensation, and suddenly, you understand the appeal that draws countless women to Jungkook’s side. He may be a pain in the arse, but he is wonderfully skilled when it comes to kissing.

Pressed against the shelf, you give in to the affections from a man you were sure you hated. You promise yourself, as his lips part from yours, that you will wipe this feeling from your memory. Yet, even as Jungkook draws back, the ghost of his warmth haunts you.

Lost for words, you blink in the dim light of your shop, suddenly too bright after the dark of closed eyelids. Jungkook leans back against the counter, eyes fixed on you. You struggle, unsure what to say. Instead of saying anything, you simply return to the chores you had assigned yourself, mechanically checking off ingredients on your piece of parchment.

At the counter, Jungkook is suspiciously silent. After a long pause, he finally asks, “What will happen to me when the effects of the potion are cured?”

You turn back to him. “You will forget most of this. It will all feel hazy, like a dream. And you’ll feel a little unwell. Headaches are normal after such strong potions take effect. Some people also suffer nausea, but that depends on one’s constitution. You’ll only suffer for an hour or so, then it should wear off.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Jungkook says gently.

You swallow, understanding, “Your feelings will depart. Whatever you are feeling for me now will be replaced with your genuine feelings, so you’ll go back to hating me I suspect.”

Jungkook’s face falls, “I don’t hate you.”

“Well then you’ll go back to mild indifference,” you say, turning back to your shelf to continue working, while Jungkook sits down at the counter, silent.

The hours drag on, with Jungkook’s eyes following your every move. Occasionally, he expresses a desire for physical contact to stop the pain. When he does so, you return to his side, and gently press your palm to his. The action seems to be enough for him.

At last, the hour glass has run through twice, and the potion is ready. You carefully decant it into a vial, and set it in front of Jungkook.

He catches your gaze, “I… I don’t want this.”

“Jungkook, please,” you press your hand to his one last time, “You need to. No matter what, the Impetus Amor will wear off. I’ll still be here when you’re cured.”

His face firms into an expression your don’t recognise, and with a resolute, swift motion, he tips the contents of the vial into his mouth in one go, swallowing with a groan. “You did not warn me that it would taste repulsive.”

“You were already reluctant to take it.”

Jungkook groans again, lowering his head so that his forehead rests on the wooden counter top, “By the goddess, I feel like death. Do you have a potion for a headache?”

“Not one caused by the after effects of Impetus Amor,” you say, “But I do have herbal tea.”

“Yes please.”

Glad to have a task to distract you, you busy yourself with boiling the water and fetching tea leaves.

From his spot at the counter, Jungkook moans, “I embarrassed myself greatly, didn’t I?”

Watching a pleasing golden red spread out from the tea leaves into the boiled water, you reply, “That depends on what you deem to be embarrassing.”

Jungkook grimaces as he lifts his head slightly, then, upon reconsideration, lowers his head again. The colour has drained from his face.

“I imagine you were acting the way you normally would around any fair lady you intended to woo. You were fine. Quite respectful, actually.”

“Please, I don’t wish to remember,” Jungkook moves his head so that his cheek now rests on the counter.

You pass a cup of fresh tea across to him, ‘That should make you feel a little better,” you say.

“I owe you a ‘thank you’,” Jungkook raises his head to blow on the steam rising from the tea cup, “And an apology as well, I fancy.”

You pause, not expecting to hear those words from him.

“I’ve been an arse,” Jungkook says.

“It’s not often you and I agree on something, Jungkook.”

He laughs wryly. “Well, I can’t deny it, can I? I wasted your time and energy today, and for that, I am sorry. From, Jeon Jungkook, son of the duke of Braewyth, to you, master alchemist and potions-brewer extraordinaire, as my equal, please accept my sincere apologies, and my humble gratitude.” He bows his head.

You are unsure how to react, throat tight. All you can muster is an insincere chuckle, and a feeble “No need to be so formal... If you really want to apologise you can give me the gold you promised since it would appear I won this wager.”

“Oh, right!” Jungkook digs in his pockets.

Suddenly, strangely, you feel unsure of yourself. “Listen, I was just joking. I don’t need the money. Really...”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook dumps a sack of coin on the table. “It’s yours, fair and square.” He grins at you and takes a sip of his tea. “This brew really seems to be helping.” As he downs the rest f the cup, you busy your hands with the bottles on your shelf, straightening them so they stand in a tidy row. Jungkook glances through the window of your shop, where the sky above the roofs of the town is turning gold with the setting of the sun. “I’d better head off,” he says, “My father arranged a ball for the eligible women of Braewyth to attend, and he’s hoping I’ll meet someone there. And by someone, I mean specifically Lady Antille from the province of Armestice.” He grimaces. “I’ve heard she’s a dreadful bore. Not to mention there’ll be lots of business men at the dance, hoping to make a good impression, and get funding from my father’s treasury. So overall, I have a very pleasant evening ahead of me.”

“Do you think you’ll ever find a woman you’re happy with?” you ask.

Jungkook wavers on the question, “I’m… not sure. I think I’m cursed by the fact that most noble women are not at all appealing to me.”

You shrug, “It’s all just a pantomime isn’t it? Performing the proper etiquette. Perhaps once the women have a chance to drop the pretence of politeness, you’ll get to know them for who they truly are, and you’ll realise they aren’t as bad as you think.”

“Perhaps,” he looks unconvinced, “But I doubt I’ll have the time for that. My father is hoping I’ll drop down to one knee and propose as soon as I lock eyes with the right woman.”

“Maybe Lady Antille will be the lucky one,” you say.

“The longer this goes on, the more I worry my father will simply pick a lady for me, and force me to marry.”

“I hope not.”

He nods, “Yes. So do I.” He turns for the door.

“Enjoy your evening, Jungkook.”

He pauses at the door, and turns back to look at you, with a gentle smile. “You’ve started calling me Jungkook instead of Mr. Jeon,” he notes.

“Oh, sorry,” your hand springs to your mouth, “Is it improper?”

“A little bit improper,” He smiles, “I like it.”

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye...” He looks into your eyes, sunshine bathing him from the windows, and your name is soft on his lips. Not ‘little alchemist’. Not ‘wench’. Not ‘my dear’. Just your name. A warmth spreads from your stomach through the rest of your body.

You smile as he closes the door behind him, leaving you alone with the smell of herbal tea filling the shop.

✽ ✽ ✽

As darkness descends on your shop, the sun sinking lower, a lady enters. You recognise the red hood, lowered over her eyes and nose.

“Good evening,” you welcome her as you would all other customers.

Rather than greeting you, she simply asks, “Is the Impetus Amor ready?” Her tone is hushed, despite being the sole customer in your store.

Thankful that you had the foresight to create more than one batch of the potion, you fetch it from your cupboard and place the vial on the counter top in front of her. The potion shines, pearlescent in the fading sunshine.

The lady pushes back a blonde lock from her face, and her shapely lips smile below her hood. “Wonderful. Thank you.” She tales the vial, and places it into her purse. You notice her splendid gown beneath the folds of her red cloak. Only a rich lady could afford such a potion. And such expensive silk. You sigh, despite yourself.

The lady tosses another pouch of gold onto the counter top. “I trust that you will not tell anyone of this exchange.”

You pause, wondering what she means. “All my customer’s orders are confidential,” you assure her.

She nods, satisfied, and swivels on her heel, exiting the shop. As she leaves, she bumps into an older lady who is making her way into your shop. You recognise the older lady, Myrrh, who is one of your regulars. The younger lady’s red hood slips down as she passes Myrrh, revealing a head of golden curls.

“Oh, sorry dear,” Myrrh says.

The golden haired lady bows her head, quickly pulling up her hood again. “Think nothing of it.” With that, she slips into the darkening evening.

Myrrh approaches your counter, while you retrieve her order from the shelf behind you – Fons Iuventae, for aches and pains afflicting old joints. “Well, I never realised you got such fancy clientele in your store, dear,” Myrrh observes, as she counts out her silver coins for you.

You smile, “Her appearance here surprised me as much as it did you, Myrrh.”

The older lady chuckles, ‘Imagine! Lady Antille, in this shop! The store will be the talk of the town soon, I’m sure.”

“Lady Antille?”

Myrrh gives you a strange look as she hands her coins across to you. “You didn’t recognise the Lady of Armestice?”

You shake your head.

“Ah, well now you know,” Myrrh says, “Imagine, me bumping into her like that.” She takes her bottle of Fons Iuventae and heads for the door. You follow behind her, and flip over your store sign to ‘Closed’ once she leaves. The last dregs of sunlight seep through the window. With the shop shut for the night, you go and sit behind the counter, thoughts running at a thousand miles a minute. You know that you should not concern yourself with your customer’s potion usage. After all, you simply provide. You are not responsible for the actions that follow. Yet, you cannot help but have your suspicions.

Before you realise what you are doing, you pick up a vial of Aphrodite’s Cure from yoru counter. Your body leads you to the door, grabbing your satchel, and your cloak, pulling it around you before you step out onto the cobbled street. Your feet lead you to the stable, where you quickly saddle up your mare, and spur her into the dark of night.

The road that leads out of Sientha winds down towards the large mansion where the duke of Braewyth resides. Everyone in Braewyth is familiar with the sugar white house that stands tall, behind a maze of rose bushes. As you ride towards the mansion, rain begins to pelt down, stinging at your cheeks. You continue regardless, pressing your heels into your mare’s side, encouraging her on. You push her harder than you’ve pushed her before, hurtling down the road at a frantic gallop. The mare’s breathing is hard, foam flies from her mouth. Dirt flies from her hooves, kicking up the mud washed onto the road.

Ahead of you, past the sheets of rain, you spot the lights of the Braewyth mansion. Reigning in your mare, you stop her a few paces before the gate, and tie her by one of the trees. She’s breathing heavily, and you give her a reassuring pat before you make for the gates.

A guard, who was leaning lazily against the gate, stands to attention when you approach, raising his spear. “Halt.”

“Please,” you hold up your hands to him, showing that you are unarmed, “I wish to speak with Jeon Jungkook.”

The guard squints at you through the rain. “And who might you be?”

You hesitate. “I’m his alchemy tutor.” Technically not a lie.

“I wasn’t told you would be arriving,” the guard says, “Do you have an invitation to the ball that you can show me?” He sweeps a skeptical gaze over your trousers, flecked with mud, and your fur hood, soaked with rain.

“Please, it’s urgent,” you say.

In the gloom, you see the guard raise his eyebrows.

You wrack your brain, “I have a potion for Jeon Jungkook. He asked me to deliver it to him personally before the ball began.”

“He never told me of this plan.”

Just then, by the mercy of the universe – or perhaps the goddess – Jungkook appears at the other side of the gate.

“Ah, Mr. Jeon,” the guard smiles at you gleefully, hoping to have caught you in a lie, “Have you met this wench before?”

Jungkook walks up to the gate, “Of course. Let her in at once.”

The guard’s mouth hangs open for a slit second, before he quickly corrects his expression, and bows to the heir of Braewyth. “Yes. Right away!” He opens the gate, and scurries to get out of your way.

You hurry over the threshold, and begin walking with Jungkook towards the Braewyth mansion.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asks, once you are out of earshot of the guard.

“What about you?” you say, “Do you make it a habit to walk around the garden while it’s tipping it down with rain?”

“I needed some fresh air, and I heard a commotion from the gate,” Jungkook explains, “But I really think you’re the one who ought to be explaining yourself.”

“I...” you’re unsure where to begin, “Has Lady Antille arrived yet?”

“Not yet,” Jungkook says, “Now, will you please stop answering my question with more questions.”

“Sorry,” you swallow, suddenly realising how silly your reasoning will sound.

Jungkook waits, while you remain silent, walking down the path through the rose bushes.

You take a deep breath, “This may sound mad, but I have reason to believe that Lady Antille plans to use Impetus Amor on your tonight.”

Jungkook’s expression turns frosty. “You’re not jesting?”

You nod. “I could be wrong. But the lady who purchased Impetus Amor was Antille. I did not recognise her at first. I suppose it could merely be coincidence, and she is using it for someone else, but I wanted to warn you, just in case.”

Jungkook is grave. “I suppose it would make sense. After all, a marriage into the Braewyth duchy would be beneficial for the province of Armestice.  The province is too small to defend itself, so would be willing to seek the protection of a more powerful duchy.” He turns his eyes to you. “Will you be able to stay here with me tonight? I must be in attendance at the ball, and avoiding Lady Antille there is out of the question. If she does try anything, will you be ready to help me?”

You nod, “I have the cure in my satchel, just in case.”

Jungkook nods, taking your hand, and leading you up the marble steps to the mansion door. “Alright, if you’re staying, then you need to get changed.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not mean to offend, but your trousers won’t be acceptable attire for the ball.”

You swallow as you step into the house. The hallways are greater – both wider and taller - than you had anticipated, with lush white carpets that your feet sink into. You wince at the mud trailed in by your boots.

“Whyn!” Jungkook calls, and a flushed looking maid appears on cue, bowing before him.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”

“Can you help my lady friend? She needs to be cleaned up, and needs more appropriate attire for the ball.”

“Of course, Mr. Jeon.”

Before you can even get a word in, you are being herded down the corridor by Whyn, who appears overly eager to do Jungkook’s bidding. You’re pushed into the bathroom, and the last you see of Jungkook is his smile as Whyn closes the door on him.

The bathroom is lavish, tiled with white marble. Ornate sculptures depicting gryphons stand at each corner of the room. Steps lead down to a pool of warm water, from which steam rises, smelling of lavendar. A statue of a stag stands proudly at the centre of the water, with a beautiful woman depicted standing beside him, naked. She holds an urn above the pool, and water pours from the urn into the large bath.

Without any warning, or any chance to protest, Whyn strips you down, and pushes you to the water’s edge. “Quickly, m’am,” she urges, “The ball will be starting soon.”

Grumbling, you step down into the water. However, it’s impossible to continue complaining as the warmth envelops you, easing all the aches in your body. You sink down with a sigh, dipping your head under, and letting your hair become fully soaked.

However relaxing the bathing experience is, you know you need to get back to Jungkook quickly, so after a quick once over with soap, you reluctantly leave the embrace of the sweet smelling water.

Whyn is ready and waiting with a warm towel. She starts drying you off, and you complain that you can dry yourself, but she shushes you stubbornly. “Please, ma’m, let me do my job!”

Once your hair and body are towelled dry, Whyn helps you into the ornate dress she has picked for you. You’ve never worn a dress this fancy before, and until this point, you never understood why ladies needed maids to help them get dressed. Now, as Whyn scurries around you, lacing up your corset, and adjusting your petticoat, you understand. The dress has so many buttons, clasps, and ribbons, that it would take an eternity to dress yourself.

The maid finally helps you pull back your hair, pinning it off your face, so it curls elegantly to frame your cheeks. She steps back to admire her handiwork, allowing you to take in your full reflection in the mirror beside the bath. It’s surprising what a maid’s touch can do. You barely recognise yourself. A regal lady stares back at you from the mirror in a shimmering sapphire-coloured dress, with golden stitching around the bodice, detailing embroidered roses.

“Is it alright, m’am?” Whyn asks, “If you don’t like it, I can find another dress.”

“No, thank you, Whyn,” you smile at her, “It’s perfect.”

The girl flushes and bows her head.

You find your original clothes folded neatly in the corner of the room. You rummage in your satchel, and find your vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, tucking it under your corset for safe-keeping. You turn back to Whyn. “I’m ready.”

The maid leads you out of the bathroom down a snaking maze of corridors, until you reach a set of grand mahogany doors. She pushes the doors open for you, and indicates that you should go in.

You whisper your thanks to her again, and then walk into the ballroom. Inside, the dancing has not yet started, and the room is filled with groups of people, conversing with one another. You spot Jungkook at the far corner, by a set of wide windows that look out onto the garden, which is illuminated by lanterns. You walk over, and a smile erupts on Jungkook’s face as soon as he spots you. He steps forward to greet you.

“Whyn has done a fine job,” he says, casting an admiring glance over you.

You feel you face heat up, unsure how to respond.

“If anyone asks,” Jungkook continues, in a low voice, linking his arm through yours and leading you along the ballroom floor, “You are my personal friend. You needn’t give any more information than that.”

You nod, glancing around nervously, “Has Antille arrived?”

“I haven’t seen her yet,” Jungkook says. “I truly hope your fears are unjustified. But if they’re true, I want you by my side, okay?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on wandering off alone.” Looking around the room, you notice many of the people staring at you. “Why are they looking at us?”

“Well, you are walking arm in arm with the heir of Braewyth, who’s rumoured to be in the market for a wife. People are going to be gossiping about our betrothal as we speak.”

You blush at the thought, allowing Jungkook to lead you around the room, stopping every so often to speak with groups of important sounding people.

Every so often, the door will open and someone will announce the name of the eligible young lady who has entered. The lady will smile and curtsey, and then everyone will go on about their business.

You find yourself stuck in an arduous conversion with an old noble, named Lord Chaperlet, about the effects of increased wheat tax, when the doors to the ballroom open once more, and the announcer cries, “Presenting to you, the Lady of Armestice, the honourable Antille.”

You raise onto your tiptoes to catch a glance at the lady over the heads of the crowd that has gathered.

She’s wearing a gold dress that trails across the floor like spilled champagne , her hair curled perfectly around her face. Lord Chaperlet stops wittering on about wheat tax to stare at the young Lady. “Antille truly is a beauty, is she not?” He winks at Jungkook, who gives a diplomatic chuckle, and says, “Now, now, Lord Chaperlet, what would your wife say if she overheard you?”

The older man gives a hearty laugh. Jungkook’s arm remains interlocked with yours, and shows no sign of budging. You swallow your nerves as Lady Antille approaches.

The lady pauses momentarily upon seeing you by Jungkook’s side, and a flash of ice glazes her gaze before she corrects her expression to a polite smile, and makes her way forward.

“Jeon Jungkook,” she coos, “How are you? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You look as handsome as your portraits portray you.”

Jungkook gives a courteous smile, “I’m wonderful thank you.” He takes the hand she proffers him, kissing her fingers, as is the custom when greeting noble women. “And how are you?”

“Fantastic,” Antille smiles, “Although the coach journey here was frightful! The rain was atrocious. Hence my late arrival, you see.”

“Fashionably late, I would say,” Jungkook replies, and Antille giggles behind her white-gloved hand.

You are out of your depth, silently observing this display of courtly manners.

Antille finally glances your way, in the manner one might glance across at an old dog scratching its fleas in the corner. “And who is this?”

You swallow. You may look different in your gown, but you know she has recognised you from your potions store.

Jungkook answers in your silence. “This is my personal friend.” His arm is still slung through yours. His reassuring fingers squeeze you.

“Is that so?” Antille worries her crimson bottom lip with her teeth for a second, her gaze lingering on you, sizing you up.

It’s a relief when Whyn passes with a tray of glasses filled with champagne, moving between you and Antille. “Would you like a drink?” The maid keeps her head bowed.

Antille takes a glass, and hands it to Jungkook, before taking one for herself, “Might as well enjoy oneself.” She raises her glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook brings the glass to his lips. A flash of worry sparks in your head – the only reason you are here is to stop Jungkook from ingesting any potion. Yet, Antille seems happy to drink the champagne...

Instinctively, your fingers tighten around Jungkook’s arm.

A vague scent of rose water and crushed gold floats towards you.

Jungkook glances at you, confused, before understanding floods into his eyes.

Wracking your brain for a good excuse to leave, your hand springs to your neck, feigning surprise. “Oh, I’ve just noticed! My necklace is gone. I was wearing it when I arrived here, but now it’s gone.”

Jungkook picks up on your cue. “Perhaps it fell off in the hallway by the entrance when you took off your cloak. I’ll help you search.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Antille chimes in. “Your friend can manage by herself. After all, everyone in this ballroom is here to speak with you personally, Jungkook. People might talk if you were to leave.”

Seeing Jungkook struggling, you begin sniffing, forcing your eyes to water. “The necklace belonged to my late mother. I can’t believe I was so careless...”

Jungkook hands you a handkerchief so you can dab at your fake tears, and before Antille can say anything else, he escorts you out of the room.

Once the doors of the the ballroom close behind you, you give up your act, following Jungkook down the twisting hallways.

“This is bad,” he mutters, “I should have been more careful. And after your warned me as well!” His hand is firm on your wrist, leading you up a set of stairs, before he slips into a room and quickly bolts the door shut behind him.

You find yourself in a lavish bathroom, this one different from the one you bathed in. Cherub angels are carved into the white frosting-coloured ceiling.

“You need to stay calm,” you tell Jungkook. “It’s going to be okay.”

Jungkook grimaces, “Don’t you understand? That glass came from Whyn’s tray. Antille must have specifically asked her to spike the glass that she would then give me.”

“Maybe Whyn didn’t know what it was,” you suggest.

“Even if she didn’t, a maid shouldn’t put anything into a drink they serve. She’ll loose her job. It’s a shame, I liked her.”

“That’s not the main issue right now,” you remind him, rummaging in the folds of your dress for the vial of Aphrodite’s Cure, “You need to take this.” You hold up the glass to him.

Jungkook smiles, “I’m glad you’re so reliable.”

“I do my best.”

Jungkook makes to take the vial from you, but you pull back, “Wait. You need to take the antidote after the potion actually kicks in.”

“How will  I know when that is?” Jungkook asks.

“Even if you don’t notice, I will,” you say, “You’ll start talking gibberish about how in love you are. And you’ll feel a sudden rush of emotion for the first person you looked at after you drank the potion… which was me, I think.”

“Right, of course. A rush of emotions.” He presses his lips together. “Perhaps, for the sake of clarity, I should confess something in that case...”

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“The trouble is,” Jungkook continues “I believe I have already developed feelings for you.”

When you open your mouth, he holds up a hand to stop you. “Before you say anything – no, the potion hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ve felt this way for a while. I just didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, so I’ve repressed them.”

Your heart rises in a flurry of childish giddiness. You don’t know where the feelings come from, but are surprised to find that you desperately hope he is telling the truth. “Perhaps we should wait until you take the antidote, and then we’ll talk about this...”

His eyes glaze over, strange and distant, “My dear, these feelings will remain unwavering, I promise.”

You press the potion into his hands. “Drink,” you command.

He nods, uncorking the vial, and tipping the contents into his mouth. “Goddess, that tastes vile,” he groans. He sucks a breath through his teeth. With his head lowered, he takes a few seconds to recover, before he murmurs, “Thank you.”

You remain silent, not sure what to say. Your mind is still racing over Jungkook’s earlier confession. He said it wasn’t the potion causing the words to fall from his mouth. Yet, you cannot be sure. A part of you is unexpectedly sad at the though that his profession of love was simply the potion speaking.

Somehow, despite your determination to hate him, you are surprised to find that you love him.

Jungkook raises his head, eyes fixed on yours, “Without you I would have made a complete fool of myself. Not to mention, I probably would have ended up betrothed to Antille, which...” he blows out a sigh. “Let’s not dwell on that. Thank you for all your help. I know I’ve treated you poorly in the past, but you’ve still helped me regardless. That’s the sign of a good person.”

You bite down on your cheek, “Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“What you said...” Once you start, the words keep spilling, “Before the potion kicked in. About being in love with me. Did you mean that?”

“Sorry, it was improper of me to simply dump that upon you all of a sudden,” Jungkook says, “I suppose I should have kept that to myself. I’ve tried to ignore these feelings, since my father would not approve of someone who is not noble-born. I tried to push the feelings away by treating you brusquely, by distracting myself with other women, but none of it worked.”

“So you mean?”

His gaze is inescapable, “I love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

Jungkook chuckles, but his tone is earnest, “Sorry, you look like a startled deer. I know it’s improper to confess without suitable courtship first, but our relationship has always been a little unconventional. Spending my time with you, I was fascinated by you. And that fascination turned into something I’ve never felt before. I’ve never been so open or honest with anyone else. You’ve seen the worst parts of me, and you’ve stuck around despite all that.” His cheeks colour, “I truly am just rambling now, please feel free to tell me to shut up.”

You’re still waiting for the part where Jungkook suddenly says, “It’s merely a jape!” His face is serious.

“Jungkook, I… I don’t know what to say...”

“Then don’t say anything, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to, I just… the words evade me...” you bite your lip, “Your confession certainly came as a surprise, although not an unwelcome one...”

Jungkook’s eyes shine. 

“I’m very happy,” you say, “I would be lying if I said I do not have similar feelings for you. I never thought it would be okay to fall in love with a noble, so I never allowed myself the liberty of even thinking...” You hesitate, “Is it really okay for me to love you?”

Jungkook nods, “Nothing would make me happier.”

“But your father?”

“It’s okay. We’ll make it work. The tradition of nobles courting nobles is ver old-fashioned anyway. I never liked it. Eventually, my father will accept whom I choose. And I choose you.”

He takes your hand, delicately bringing your fingers to his lips. The action is so simple, so gentle – a far cry from the kiss you had shared earlier – yet it feels so strangely intimate with his eyes drinking you in, while his warm mouth caresses your skin.

His lips work their way up to your wrist, then your forearm, then your shoulder, then your cheek, then grazing the side of your mouth. You let him kiss you properly, melting into his warmth, while the carved cherubs smile down at you from above.

Parting, Jungkook sighs, “I wish I could enjoy this without the after effects of Impetus Amor... My head’s killing me...”

You smile, “Don’t worry. There’ll be time for all of this later. I’m not planning on leaving your side.” You hold his hand tight in your own. “For now, let’s go to the kitchen, and see if we can find some herbal tea for you.”

✽ ✽ ✽

After a cup of strong tea, Jungkook has perked up, ready to return to the ballroom. He holds your hand in his own as you make your way down to the main hallway. You can hear string instruments harmonising to a waltz from the ballroom. The dancing seems to have started in your absence.

“I hope you’ll dance with me tonight,” Jungkook says.

“Won’t people talk if they see us together?” you ask.

“Let them,” Jungkook says. “I’ll announce our relationship when you feel ready, and not a second before.”

You smile, “In that case, I’d love to dance with you.”

As you enter the ballroom, Antille glances over at the two of you and blanches. Jungkook lets go of your hand, and walks over to her, asking if she is willing to speak with him.

Antille looks around, as if considering her escape routes, but agrees to go with Jungkook – with obvious reluctance. Jungkook draws her to the edge of the room, away from the dancing couples that glide around the ballroom floor. Where the two of them stand, you can hear their conversation well, although they are tucked away from the rest of the ball guests.

“Antille,” Jungkook says, “I know what you have attempted to do.”

Antille glowers, “Attempted to do? What are you talking about?”

Jungkook continues, “I have enough proof to have you publicly disgraced, but I am willing to let you leave with your dignity intact, so long as you never set foot in this house again.”

“Threaten me all you want,” Antille hisses, “But know that you have made an enemy of Armestice today.”

Jungkook’s face twists into a frown, “That’s not a game you want to play, Lady Antille, believe me. The duchy of Braewyth is not one to be messed with.”

Antille is pale. Her eyes fall to you, and anger flashes vividly in her irises. “I thought I made it clear that my purchase was to be kept a secret.”

Jungkook steps closer to you, “Don’t, Antille,” he warns, “Your quarrel isn’t with her.”

The lady, visibly flustered, turns on her heel towards the door. You watch as she leaves the room.

Jungkook turns his attention to you. “Please don’t worry about her. I know what Armestice is capable of, and it isn’t much. Her threats are simply to stir up fear, but she won’t act on them.”

You smile as he threads his fingers through yours, “Now, would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

You are aware of the eyes boring into you from all sides as you step onto the dance floor with Jungkook, but in that instant, you don’t care. Jungkook is beside you, his eyes on your face, and a smile on his lips.

For now, that’s enough.

✽ ✽ ✽

It’s a cold morning, but the early spring sunshine is shining stubbornly despite the chill as you walk back to your shop. You have a basket of fresh herbs in your hand, picked from the mountain side.

As you turn the corner onto your street, a smile breaks across your face, recognising a familiar figure standing by your door.

You run over to Jungkook, setting down your basket of herbs, so you can freely fling both arms around him.

He grins, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Good morning.”

You unlock the shop door, and let him enter. It’s still an hour until your shop will open for business.

“How has your morning been so far?” you ask Jungkook, throwing off your cloak, and hanging it by the door.

“Good,” Jungkook says, “The new maid prepared a wonderful breakfast. Eggs and bacon and fresh bread.”

“Sounds much better than the oatmeal I had,” you say.

“Once our relationship is officially made public, you can move into the mansion with me,” Jungkook says, “Then you can have all the eggs and bacon and fresh bread you want.”

You begin sorting the freshly picked herbs into piles on the counter, while Jungkook runs an eye over the potions you have sitting out from brewing last night.

“That will be nice,” you say, “Although I will miss this old shop.”

“I’m sure we can set up a room in the mansion where you can have a workshop to continue brewing potions. People would pay well for potions brewed by the heir of Braewyth’s wife.”

You blush at the word ‘wife’, a thrill travelling through you. 

Jungkook eyes some of your older equipment, “We can even get you some new tools. Some of these seem a little… rusty.”

“They’ve served me well, I’ll have you know.”

“Just a suggestion.” He sticks his tongue out at you.

You grin at him, “So what did you want from me this morning? We could continue your alchemy lessons… or...”

Jungkook moves around the counter to be by your side. His hands find  your waist, pulling you closer. “Well I had a few plans of my own.”

Your fingers curl through his charcoal hair. “I’m listening.”

Jungkook ducks his head down, his breath ghosting against your ear as he whispers his plan with words that make you blush scarlet. Desire pools inside you as his lips trace a path down your neck to your collar bone, “Don’t think you’re getting out of your alchemy lesson later.”

“Yes, m’am,” he grins, taking your hand in his own.

You let him lead you from your shop up the creaky stairs to your living quarters. You are happy to forget all responsibilities for the next hour, completely lost in Jungkook. You never believed a love potion could lead to true love – yet here you are, completely enveloped in Jungkook, overwhelmed by feeling. You don’t believe in the goddess but you thank her now, thank her that she decided to ruin your life by thrusting Jungkook into it.

The man you hated more than anything in the world has now become the man you love more than anything, and you couldn’t be happier for it.

- THE END -

➝ author’s note: thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it. 

[merakiui]

hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!

cw: angst + heartbreak  note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Xiao] 

One Call Away—

The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.

“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”

“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”

Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”

“No!”

Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.

But now he’s stuck with them.

“No?”

“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”

He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.

“Fine.”

And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.

Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”

“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”

Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”

“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”

The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.

So then why are you so sad?

Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.

Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.

“Is...something wrong?”

He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”

“You’re not sad?”

“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”

Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.

“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”

But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.

Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.

Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.

[Scaramouche] 

To Mend a Broken Heart—

You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.

“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”

“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”

“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”

Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.

“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“

“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”

“I get it. I’m not a good person.”

“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”

Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.

“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”

“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”

“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”

Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Hm?”

“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”

It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”

Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”

Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.

You feel the same, right?

No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.

“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”

And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.

Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.

You Must Break Another.

[honeyabyss]

When Mc gets sick

Lucifer:

will scold the hell out of you

"didn't I tell you to take care of yourself?"

you can have only a slight cold and he will insist on you staying in bed for the rest of the week

humans are weak and die easily, and you're apparently stupid on top of that for getting sick even after his warning

will constantly sigh, scold and act like it's a huge nuisance taking care of you

says he doesn't care

actually cares a lot

keeps his brothers away from you, so you have peace and silence to recover

if your condition worsens he will grow panicked, he doesn't want to lose you!

will take you to a human world doctor so you can get the right treatment

after your recovery, he will be so paranoid and overprotective for the first few weeks, will wrap you up in blankets, constantly makes sure you drink and eat enough, will put his coat over your shoulders if he even just gets the idea you might find it cold

Mammon:

"that's your own fault!"

someone like the great Mammon would never get sick

leaves the room only to come back half an hour later panting and packed with bags full of medicine and other stuff you might need

he didn't know what you need so he got one of all

there isn't the right thing among it? oh well no worries he'll get you whatever you say

after all he cares a lot for his human, even though he denies it

he will keep you company and try to distract you from your pain through telling you about his new money making schemes, or try to get you to laugh through telling you about stories where he failed and received Lucifers punishment

he doesn't like that you  have to go through this so he tries to help you however he can

if you'll ask for some quiet time, he will struggle, it's not like he doesn't want you to have some rest to recover, it's just he is so worried and confused, he feels more at ease when you talk to him or laugh about his stories, if you answer that is prove you're still alive and breathing

once you've recovered everything goes back to normal, Mammon will be confident in his ability to take care of you...for now that is, it's probably diffrent once you're actually sick again

Leviathan:

stupid normie! An otaku like him doesn't get sick, because he never leaves his room and avoids interactions with others

he, of course, secretly cares though

"Mc? I brought you these anime that we can watch together to pass the time"

"oh and in case you want to rather read something in silence, I brought you some manga recommendations, but please don't sneeze all over them..."

does the online RAD lessons with you as he stays at home almost everyday anyway, so he can show you how they work and help you

he will awkwardly sit next to you on the bed, trying to keep a small distance between the two of you A) because he is shy and nervous and B) because he can't get sick, he would miss all his in-game raids

will ask if you want to play games as well, but soon realizes that you two won't be making much progress with your current reaction time, so he chooses an easy and fun game for you

he wouldn't admit it but he might have set the game to the easiest settings and he himself plays slower for you

he is actually kind of disappointed when you recover so quick, he will miss you now that you visit RAD again instead of doing the online lessons with him, but he is glad you're feeling better again...maybe you could stay home more often with him though?

Satan:

he will buy and read every single human medicine book so he can find the best solution to your illness

will obviously read them in your room, because he can't leave you alone in this state

makes sure to keep you warm and makes you herbal tea depending on your symptoms

will skip school in favour for your well-being, especially keeps this behaviour up when Lucifer gets mad about it

will yell at everyone who dares to try and enter your room while your still sick, how dare they disturb your rest

will get embarassed about yelling and actually being the disturbance to you himself, will apologize and leave your room to keep reading somewhere else, still checks up on you occasionally and brings you light novels to read so you don't get bored

will come in stumbling into your room with the perfect medicine to cure you, only to find that you're already feeling better

gets embarassed yet again, but says it was worth reading all these books as he can now react faster the next time you get sick

will keep a check on your health and make sure you're always taking care of yourself

Asmodeus:

keep your snotty face away from him, but also come cuddle

he is very conflicted, because getting sick is not good for his skin, but he also wants to make you feel better with his hugs

will wear a mask so he doesn't get infected that easily

Asmo doesn't know much about medicine but he knows that certain herbs are good for your health, so he'll make you a nice herbal bath to boost your healing

also will take over your skin care routine and adjust it while your sick so your skin doesn't get worse, says he will only buy a refreshing face mask, comes back with more stuff though... I mean what did you expect from him?

will stay in bed with you and constantly cuddle so you don't feel lonely

he will most definetly whine if you ask him for some space or alone time, but does comply...fo at most half an hour, look this is hard on him too! His darling is sick and he can't do anything but be a moral support for you

if you thought he stops to cling to you once you've recovered, then you're mistaken, he will give you so many kisses and hugs having missed being able to do that

Beelzebub:

"Will food make you feel better?"

"You don't feel like eating?"

the poor boy is so confused, you're going to die if you don't eat! He will ask Satan what humans need when they're sick

will make yoou the perfect meal based on your symptoms, he'll even hold back on eating from it

he has a huge smile on his face while he watches you eat what he prepared, he is so proud that you like what he made you

eat as much as you can, Beel will eat everything you can't, all this boy wants for you to eat at least a bit so you have enough strength to recover

you get cold? cuddle time!

there is no way Beel will leave your side for as long as you're sick, he'll hold you close and share all his warmth and food with you

is so happy when you're better again. Will celebrate it with inviting you to a restaurant

Belphegor:

being sick is like being sleepy right?

he will just go back to sleep next to you as if nothing happend

wakes up because of your coughs and pretends to be annoyed, but is actually worried

will leave the comfort of the bed to get you some medicine, before wrapping you up into a blanket burrito and cuddling into you

don't expect to be getting up any time soon, he wants to sleep...you better not have to go to the bathroom

sleeping is best medicine but Belphie takes this a bit to literally, you two will almost only sleep

once you're better he will still want to sleep using you as a pillow, good luck getting out of that situation

Diavolo:

"Are you dying Mc?"

"Barbatos turn back the time before Mc got sick! -Wait you're going to be okay?"

Don't scare him like that! He is always ready to save you from death!

He will let you live at the castle for the time being and appoints the best doctor to take care of you, because he still isn't completly convinced you're going to make it

Does his work in your room, so he can keep a check on you

will not do much work much to Barbatos dismay, Dia is just so worried about you and will constantly ask if you need anything

his breaks consist of hugging you gently and drinking some tea with you

he will literally cry and almost crush you in his hug, when you're finally healthy again. This man was so anxious about losing you, even thugh he could've commanded Barb to just turn back time

Barbatos:

*smiles*

he knew you were going to get sick, so he's prepared

knocks on your door in the house of lamentation, before you're even able to tell anyone that you're sick

made himself a very strict schedule for everything so he can help you and still attend to his duties as a butler

gives the brothers various tasks so they can indivdually take care of you in the time he isn't able to be there for you

he will get back to you in the evening after having finished all his work for the day

will make you a light dinner and sit next to your bed

stays with you until you fall asleep stroking you hair and holding one of your hands, when you wake up the next morning Barb await you with a small breakfast, if he stayed over night or left and came back in the morning will stay a secret of his

is relieved and at the same time sad when you've recovered, will miss coming over and seeing you, maybe you can return the favor and visit him at the castle sometimes...

Solomon:

is a human so he knows what to do...

but magic is quicker!

he tries to heal you with a spell, but he just end up making it worse

"Oh no Mc I'm so sorry! Let me make it up by taking care of you!"

undefined matter soup a la Solomon, "eat this", he said, "You'll feel better", he said ...you don't feel better...

the brothers will get so angry and throw him out of the house, he is only allowed to come back once you've recovered, actually scratch that he's not setting foot anywhere near you again if it were for the demons

but Solomon finds his way into your room through your window...will stay over the night, cuddling you and constantly apologizing

will laugh about the whole ordeal once you've recovered

Simeon:

he is so calm, like yeah? Humans get sick, but they recover soon if taking care of correctly

Simeon is just the best!

he knows the right food to make for you, will give you the best medicine and make sure you're taking it at the right time

will make sure you're always comfortable

bored?  "let me get you a book!"

tired?  "let me fluff your pillow so you can sleep better!"

he will sit next to you the whole time looking so calm and confident

he will pray for you to get better quick so you don't have to suffer too long

promises you to take care of you again if you get sick in the future, this man just wants to be there for you

Luke:

"Are you dying Mc?" Version 2.0

no seriously are you? Will you become an  angel? We can live together in the celestial realm and bake desserts for Micheal!

Mc why are you so angry? No you misunderstood I don't actually want you to die!

Is so sorry he couldn't protect you from getting sick, he will feel so helpless

Simeon and you will cheer him up and tell him there wasn't anything he could have done to prevent it

Luke will bake you light desserts so you can eat some sweets while recovering

will visit you daily with Simeon after school and tell you about the day

crushes you in a big hug once you're healthy again

[astrologyandlife]

jupiter and saturn together in the natal chart

i have noticed that, in many of my readings, people have both jupiter and saturn sitting in the same house of their natal chart. this makes sense because a conjunction between the two occurs every 20 years. and to me, this signals an important theme: the need to overcome struggle to unlock the opportunities of that house.

first house - there's difficulty expressing yourself fully. it's like you want to be optimistic and have faith in yourself, but something is holding you back from that. you are almost afraid of being let down. as a result, you carry around this fear and caution about everything. you doubt yourself. when people first meet you, these struggles can be visible to them. the important thing here is that you are the cultivator of your experience, and when you can work through your feelings about yourself and your environment, you will notice that you attract good luck and opportunity. you have the power to consciously change how you approach the world around you through a smile, a little bit of faith, and a more positive attitude. second house - growing up, you lacked some form of security in your life. this could have been in the form of coming from a poorer background, or having a parent(s) that did not consistently care for you in some way. and because you were not valued by those in your early environment, you struggle to ascribe value to yourself. you may develop habits of holding onto things out of fear that you will never have them again. the lesson from this placement is to understand your own worth, and to know that you are entitled to a comfortable, happy, satisfying life. using this framework you will attract wealth and opportunity. third house - the hardest part about this placement is that you feel as though you are somehow "stupid" or your ideas aren't worthwhile. you could have struggled in your early school years for various reasons ranging from not understanding the material to being in an environment that refused to accommodate your needs. you rarely share your own ideas, and you fear being rejected, wrong, or made fun of by others. you must let go of this hesitation and remind yourself that you have valuable ideas to share with the world. you have the power to persuade, to motivate, and to invigorate. in fact, once you stop second-guessing yourself, you will notice that your genius shines proudly. fourth house - your early childhood experiences were, and still are, challenging for you. you could have experienced hardship as a result of being treated poorly by your parents or even going through some trauma in the home, especially if saturn makes aspects to mars or pluto. you have fears stemming from your childhood that hold you back. what is going to be important for you is building a home for yourself that is safe, secure, and stable. in doing so, your chosen family will grow and provide you with the support you need to flourish. fifth house - you have artistic and creative talents, but it is possible that when you were younger, you received heavy messaging that these talents were in some way invaluable or unimportant. As a result, relaxation and self-expression on a creative level is severely restricted. you feel like you always have to justify the things you love. however, you are allowed to simply exist and enjoy things for their sake. once you allow yourself to be creative to the extent you are capable, you will find that it will bring opportunity and happiness to you. sixth house - i definitely get the sense that you have had to be responsible from a very young age, taking care of the chores around the house, watching over yourself, etc. perhaps your parents were particularly strict with you and imposed a lot of restrictions on your daily life. these lessons instilled within you have lead you to desire routine and organization, because you fear chaos. you also tend to put too much on yourself, leading to burnout and extreme stress. here you must unlearn any negative habits or routines you have created for yourself, including overworking yourself. in doing so, you will feel much more calm and collected, which will help you physically and mentally. seventh house - there is a lot of stress and anxiety that comes from long-term relationships. the biggest fear here is the fear that you will never find someone who can fully love and commit to you. though you have a lot to offer, you feel completely

inexperienced or as though you are nothing special. there can be a tendency to downplay your own gifts and strengths. as a result, you feel very lonely in your early life and may be distrustful of love. you are afraid of opening yourself up to rejection and pain, so you avoid forming strong attachments or giving too much of yourself. having faith in yourself and what you have to offer, as well as being confident, will attract people who have an abundance of love and affection to give to you. eighth house - this placement can be heavily indicative of one or more life-changing, traumatic experiences, namely when pluto is involved. this experience has transformed you in some major way, likely inducing a fear of change or the unknown within you. you hold on to these memories and this pain in your heart, which stunts your growth as a person. the second half of the healing must be a conscious act by you, wherein you decide that you have what it takes to continue surviving. there is definitely a need for complete rebirth here. once you have come out on the other side, the magic of life itself will be revealed to yourself. you will become resilient in ways you could never imagine, and you will have the strength to overcome anything. ninth house - i have the feeling that your early life was extremely narrow and did not allow you to explore the world around you properly. perhaps your parents were extremely overprotective of you, or overbearing in sharing their opinions with you, and this was a very suffocating feeling. your own opinions and ideas were not welcome by the people in your life, and often they were even shut down. so you must start anew with your independence. remain open and take time to immerse yourself in anything you can, especially ideas radically different from your own. by opening your mind, jupiter will reward you with a wealth of knowledge and experience from which you can draw. tenth house - early on in your life, ideas of what it means to be successful, accomplished, and a productive member of society were heavily pushed on you by the people in your life. you almost feel as though you aren't meant to have agency in your own future, because you are trying to do what you are "supposed" to do. your parents could have been a bit overbearing in trying to prepare you for the future. trusting yourself and forming your own ideas of success and fulfillment will lead to you experiencing much more opportunity within your career. you must overcome a fear of failure here. eleventh house - on a deep level, you feel completely alone in the world. you feel as though it is impossible for anyone to truly understand you, or that they would even want to try. you are a deeply lonely person at times. i could see this placement as indicating that you were a social outcast or somehow distanced from others in your youth, leading to you believing there is something fundamentally wrong with you that prevents you from forming meaningful relationships. you doubt yourself, thinking, am i boring? am i too plain? am i unlikeable? here, you must cast these thoughts away and put forth effort anyways. twelfth house - the biggest struggle with this is that you feel unable to let go of the past and to forgive yourself. the biggest obstacle here is yourself. you have these feelings like you have done too much bad, or something you have done in the past is irredeemable. you may find that, in times of particular stress, you have nightmares or trouble sleeping. the twelfth house challenges you to let go of all of these things, to forgive yourself. you have to look at your pain and grief and allow yourself to feel it, then to let it go. in some way, you have to completely allow yourself to dissolve. after you do these things, you will find that your life as a whole improves, and you can handle anything much better.

some notes as well:

the closer to conjunction the two are, the more intensely this is felt by the native

if they aspect the sun, moon, or angles, these lessons will come up in the individual's day-to-day life

if jupiter is closer to the beginning of the house, it can lessen the impact of saturn

[sokkastyles]

hi :) u up 2 talk about Azula? i wonder what kind of help she could get. what do u think? also - names to mental stuf in a pre-dx world?

Hi! Happy V Day <3

First of all, I've said before that I don't like diagnosing fictional characters with mental illnesses at the best of times. In a pre-DSM world, it's almost impossible. I've also said before that I don't consider Azula to be mentally ill, especially not in the series proper (the comics don't exist, shhh.) Unless you mean in the sense of having CPTSD due to prolonged abuse, but like, Zuko has that, too.

One main difference between Zuko and Azula is that Zuko actually recognized that he needed help. Even when he didn't know it himself. Everything he did was a cry for help, even (especially) when he was like NO I DEFINITELY DO NOT NEED TO CALM DOWN WHY WOULD YOU SUGGEST THAT I AM PERFECTLY FINE!!!!!

That's the whole thing about Zuko's speech where he talks about Azula being "born lucky" versus his "lucky to be born." I love that speech so much, as you can probably tell if you have been following my blog because I talk about it all the time. If you've been with me on my personal you probably know that speech was the moment I started to love Zuko as a character. And people who talk about Azula and Zuko's relationship talk about that line a lot, but rarely focus on what Zuko says after:

I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight and that's made me strong. It's made me who I am.

This is the thing. This is what makes Zuko redeemable. The way Dante Basco delivers these lines is so good. There's a lot of false bravado, but also a lot of pain. Building an identity around having to constantly struggle caused Zuko a lot of pain but it also prevented him from falling into the mindset Azula was in, and ultimately the lessons he learned about picking himself up helped him to rebuild himself in the end and become a better person. Azula built her identity around being "born lucky" so that was always something she had to maintain, and the idea that she was superior by nature was fed by her father and her country's violent fascist ideologies. We do see that she struggles to maintain this mask of perfection even from the moment she is introduced to us, but what she doesn't ever do is admit that she struggles to maintain it.

That attitude is also seen in her speech to Long Feng about being a born leader. To her, it's a zero sum game; if she isn't born to win, then she loses.

I think help for Azula would need to involve first and foremost admitting that she needed help, and she really isn't in that place until she hits rock bottom. And she is in that place by the end of the series, but not before.

Think about all the steps Zuko had to go through to get redemption. Leaving the Fire Nation, humbling himself to the gaang, admitting that he'd lost his firebending. Can you imagine Azula doing any of those things? Zuko jokes about how Azula would just threaten them, which actually she wouldn't, she would manipulate, but anyway, the point is that she could never sincerely bring herself to that point because she has to WANT to do that, and more importantly she never learned how to. Zuko is able to humble himself enough to change partly because of being forcibly humbled throughout his life. Zuko knows what it feels like to hit rock bottom, and thus learned how to build himself up again, even if it took him a while to do it right.

Now, I'm also not saying that redemption necessitates suffering. That was also something Zuko internalized that was an obstacle for him to overcome, but it was because he learned how to grow from suffering that he was able to build himself back up. Azula has definitely suffered, but I don't think she would have considered any of the crap Ozai put her through as hurting her (even though it did) because she also believed the lie about her own superiority. That's why she built a fake wall around herself and who she was. Zuko talks about who he is; Azula says that she's a monster. Azula has no real idea who she is. That's what she needs to find out in order to get help, and she has to want it.

If it weren't for Aang and co., though, Azula would have still considered herself lucky. That's another difference between her and Zuko. Zuko would have denied that he was hurting like he did in the beginning of the series, but he would still know that he was. I don't think Azula even knows that she was hurt. At the end of the series, to her, the source of her suffering is something she blames on everyone else except 1) Ozai, and 2) her own toxic worldview. Remember when Zuko also had to admit that he was angry at himself? Azula would need to do something similar. Not to sound trite, but the first step to getting help is admitting that you have a problem, and as hard as that was for Zuko, it would be even harder for Azula because she was fed her whole life on a steady diet of her own superiority.

[laceymorganwrites]

you already simp for him so do whatever you want with this statement:

Hisoka waking you up at 3am

Word count: 1,670

Warnings: smut, swearing

A/N: I wanted to write reader just domming the shit out of him but halfway through insecurities hit and I was like: I give up

Being in a relationship with Hisoka Morow was exhausting in every single way.

He had mood swings, not that that was a bad thing, not at all, after all they were never as bad as that you couldn´t handle them.

Of course time was a big factor as well, with his line of work he´d just disappear randomly, sometimes for months only to show up again like nothing ever happened.

Sure, you knew that from the start but you were just human, it was only natural to feel sad and disappointed from time to time because of it.

He always made up for the lost time when he was there though, he always made sure to spend a lot of time with you before he had to leave again.

Still, this time it´s been four months without him. It was rough.

You couldn´t really sleep that well and distracting yourself only got you so far…

This night was just like any other, going to bed alone, being unable to fall asleep, when you finally did it was restless.

Of course Hisoka had to wake you up in the five minutes of peaceful sleep you got. “Did you miss me?” he grinned when he sensed your nen, it was so immaculate, he loved the sensations he got from just it alone.

“Why the fuck did you wake me?” you growled, not even bothering to turn around and look at him, he should know how pissed you were at him right now.

“I´m horny, babe… it´s been so long” he whined, a suppressed moan slipping from his lips as he started rubbing himself against you.

“And why the fuck should that be my problem? Just take care of it yourself” you tightly hugged your blanket and turned away from him in hopes of catching at least a bit more sleep.

“It´s your duty as my girlfriend, it´s been way too long”

But he still wouldn´t give up, Hisoka really was insufferable. Such a pain. The audacity made you turn around again just to glare at him.

“My duty? I don´t have to do shit, just let me fucking sleep” you growled, gritting your teeth, if looks could kill… though you both knew that´d just get him off even more. “Come on! We both know you can´t resist me~” he purred in your ear, trailing his fingers over your spine, a smirk decorating his lips.

“Fuck you, because of you I´m awake now” you hissed at him, abruptly sitting up in bed, arms crossed and looking mighty pissed. Just what he wanted. And you knew it. You hated how right he was about not being able to resist him. But you just couldn´t help it, he was such a brat. Who else was going to teach him a lesson?

“I´ll do everything to make up for it, my queen~”

You scoffed. Of course he was. Because he knew better than to disobey you in that state, to be honest Hisoka has never seen you go all out in a fight, he´s never once seen your full power. And that intrigued him, it made him so curious, leading him to testing all your limits. He was well aware how stupid that was but nobody did it quite like you.

Your whole relationship was like a fight to him, exciting. It never got boring, he wondered why himself all the time. After all everything else got boring to him, he liked to stir things up, not even being loyal to his friends.

But he was always loyal to you. Not because he had to but because he wanted to.

He wanted to be yours and you to be only his. There was nothing better he could ever imagine.

Oh and when you were pissed at him just like you were now, to a point where you just couldn´t control yourself, where your nen was so overpowering… he got excited just thinking about it.

Of course Hisoka could have returned earlier, in fact he could have made enough fuck time before you went to sleep. But that wouldn´t have been so rewarding.

Neither to him nor you, he thought. After all not only did he love nothing more than getting punished by you but he knew just how much you loved putting him in his place.

“You fucking better…. You know how shitty I sleep when you´re not there, next time you´ll let me sleep and wake me up in the morning” you grumbled before pulling him close for a rough kiss. You bit his bottom lip before gently tracing your tongue around your bite marks and then slowly making out with him, forcefully keeping the pace slow and gentle.

You made your anger known, now it was time for him to serve you, to make up for everything.

Hisoka moaned into the kiss shamelessly, trying his luck in grabbing your ass but you just flicked his hand away. He wasn´t allowed to touch you just yet.

You had to admit it was quite cute how impatient he was, you weren´t going to be too rough with him, it would be such a bother to get the ropes and leash, you just wanted to fuck and then sleep.

Too tired to think, working on just instincts and how much you indeed missed him, but you were just too stubborn to admit it, especially now. Why would you give him the satisfaction he wanted to hear when he was the one who woke you up so rudely?

Still, before you knew it your hand was angrily pulling at Hisoka´s shirt. He grinned at you before he quickly discarded it, his lips on yours again before you could admire his toned body.

You didn´t care, you could look at it later, screw order and doing things patiently, you have been patient long enough.

Your hands raked through his hair, pulling and tugging at it roughly, making him moan even more, your tongues playing with each other, rougher than it needed to be, but who needed air anyway?

Hisoka slowly put his hands under your shirt as well, rubbing his thumbs over your hardened nipples and massaging the sweet flesh of your tits.

You sighed contently, pushing him away again to quickly discard your clothes as well, now being fully displayed for him. At the same time Hisoka also took off his pants, now hovering above you, a sly grin on his face.

You both knew you were too impatient to punish him properly tonight, but you both also knew that now wasn´t the time for roles, it wasn´t about who would dom who, who would sub, who would be obedient and what a brat needed to be tamed.

No, none of that mattered now, all that mattered was the sex itself. The pure and utter ecstasy and lust you both built up over the course of the last four months. It was hell. And finally you could relieve yourselves.

Hisoka´s hair long since fell in your face as his hands wandered down to your hips, your leg was hooked around his waist as you just pushed yourself closer and closer to him.

Oh, how you missed your skin touching his… this familiar warmth, his body was like a map only you could follow, after all you were the one that drew it, the one who knew every little secret spot and what he liked the most.

Hisoka was your proudest work yet.

His lips moved to your neck as one of his fingers easily slipped into your wet cunt, moving immediately. You made him more space on your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin, his hot breath against your throat and your hitched breath.

It didn´t take long until Hisoka could enter a second finger, moving them deeper inside, curling them just the right way to make sure to hit your spot, the pad of his thumb was rubbing circles on your clit.

Your whimpers didn´t only grow louder but also more impatient as you squeezed your leg tighter against him, feeling his hard cock against your inner thigh. Your eyes were hazily looking up at him with a hunger that only he could instill in you.

“Stop teasing me already” you whined, pulling him down towards you, resting your hands on his chest and digging your nails in.

Hisoka moaned obscenely and immediately slipped his fingers out of you, sucking them dry himself, he grinned at you, his teeth still glistening with your juices.

“My, my, how impatient you are… not that I can blame you though, I´ve been waiting for so long to finally be inside you again” he husked, grazing his teeth along your neck, you could just feel the excitement radiating from him.

You laid back a bit, spreading your legs for him already. At this point both of you were starving, you just needed to be one right now in this moment, the other stuff could wait.

It didn´t take long for Hisoka to capture your lips again, his hands holding up your legs as he slowly inserted his cock, starting to move immediately. His moans were loud as he cried out your name, why would he hold back when you felt like heaven?

You clung onto him, hooking your legs and arms around him as good as you could, letting him ravish you and relishing in the feeling yourself.

This.

You missed this so much, all those things you wanted to tell him, those emotions that built up over the months, none of that mattered, none of that needed to be said in words. Sex was your form of expressing it and for him it was the same.

Hisoka wouldn´t shut up during sex, curses would fall from his lips like air and he wouldn´t stop praising you. That´s how you knew he was close, he could tell you were too by the way you clamped down on him, tightening up for him just right.

Fuck, how did he miss you!